#Health effects of Holi colors

[asthmabhawan-blog]

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[micksture]

hello i’m back on the grind and today i bring you the fullbody refs i nearly did a backflip over 🌞 hope you’ll like em

notes under the cut

CHARLIE

- Former Princess of Hell. She resigned from her role and place in the royal home because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to fulfill her dream of redeeming Sinners. Her parents had different plans and expectations for her, and deem her as an embarrassment. Charlie lived in a dingy apartment and worked a couple of jobs for a few years to gather money. She struggled, but she finally earned enough to afford an empty, run down building. At the start, she and the gang will have to start rebuilding and renovating it to make the hotel she planned to build :p

- More goat motifs (ears, nose, horns, pupils, legs and hooves)

- Doll-like joints, which make her movements awkward and robotic at times

- Fangs and buck teeth <3

- Fluffy, puffy hair!!! The color is a mix of Lucifer’s hair back when he was still an angel (golden) and the hair he has now, after falling (red)

- One snake on each side of her head. Both of them are different species and have different personalities. They’re also super venomous, but she doesn’t rlly use that ability

- A mole under her left eye because I just couldn’t help myself hehe

- Tail that she can’t retract and has all the time. It’s a bit too short and just bothers her most of the time by accidentally knocking stuff over

- A blue ‘blouse’ (it’s actually a long sleeve top with buttons printed onto it, kinda like those silly faux tuxedo t-shirts) and shoes with accents of the same color, as any variant of blue is a vital part of the very loose dress code for the hotel’s workers. She also wears blue earrings and always adds a bit of blue to her makeup :3

- Other than that I think her outfit is pretty much similar? At least to the Pilot one

- I tried to sneak in some hearts to her design and just overall make her look friendly and awkward lolz

VANHI

- Former Exorcist angel. She gained consciousness during an extermination and was discarded solely because of that fact. Exorcists are programmed to be killing machines that feel nothing and don’t ask questions, so when they gain consciousness (which is very rare), their higher ups – so Lute and Adam – get rid of them. Vanhi was found by Charlie two days later, miraculously still alive. Charlie rushed her back to her apartment and slowly nursed her back to health, recognising her as an angel, but not an Exorcist. They’ve known each other for 3 yrs now, and they took some time to grow fond of each other but they’re getting there

- Obviously, the name change… She did used to be called Vaggie (when she was still an angel), changed it after being banished from the holy troops and left behind in Hell

- STRRRONG 💪💪💪💪 probs the strongest one out of the main six characters, at least physically

- Lots of scars all over her body from previous battles

- Long teased hair put up in a high ponytail for practical reasons. The black tips are dyed. Also RACOON TAIL!!!!!!!!

- Some moth motifs, like the antennas that mimic a bow and also her hair kinda resembles the wings of a moth when it is down.

- A funky ahoge (I think that’s what it’s called..) that looks like a halo :3

- A different eyepatch + protective gloves

- She wears a pink and white striped pullover under her blue shirt and she also has mismatched socks 👾

- Angelic spear, obvi.. its’ handle is a little bent in the middle, because Adam tried to snap it in half for dramatic effect and failed LMFAOJEBW BOZO

ANGEL DUST

- He’s a famous pornstar under Valentino’s contract, and he has been for some time now. Before that, he’d perform in clubs

- Lots of Valentino’s influence in his choice of clothing: shorts, boots, the black top, pink gloves + fur scarf, rings and the collar. The only thing that wasn’t gifted to him by the overlord is the pinstriped shirt and hat that he’s had since the very arrival in Hell. ALSO SHOUTOUT TO MY FRIEND FOR THIS IDEA: the buttons on his suit are little flies because he’s a spider!!!!!!

- Six eyes, four arms (but he can also grow out two more), pedipalps and abdomen to rlly play into the spider theme

- His teeth are stained with Val’s red saliva

- He has lots of toned pink spots all over his body. I couldn’t rlly decide on an exact design for his markings and I felt like there was already a lot happening on him so I just went with little pink speckles

- Very fluffy :v

ALASTOR

- Powerful Overlord that came back from his seven years of radio silence to invest in the biggest flop of a project in Hell and stick around, seemingly just to laugh at its’ failure

- Toned down colors yay

- Long, pinstriped crimson suit worn over a beige dress shirt, 1930s inspired shoes (they still have the silly hoof prints on the bottom don’t worry) and a tie because I’m sick of the bazillion bowties 👿👿👿

- Voice box located between the top of the knot of his tie and the bottom of his high neck ruff. He often uses it to speak without moving his mouth

- The two sharp ridges that peek from under his neck ruff and have a white glow to them are actually a part of a collar. He’s forced to wear it because of his deal. It’s made of angelic metal, so he can’t really take it off anyway

- For the deer features, I changed his ears to be a little more deer-like, made his antlers bigger and gave him a deer nose :p He has a tail and hooves too but he hides them as much as possible

- No fuckass bob 🙏

- Couldn’t help myself and gave him a pencil mustache 🕴️

- Staff inspired by a 1930s microphone. It can be shortened to a regular mic or expanded to work as a cane!! It's a sentient being and it often adds to situations/conversations by playing sound effects. And yes it does have tiny antlers hehe

- Different monocle

- Some green accents because his magic is green idk

HUSK

-A former Overlord, long past his prime. His enjoyment of Alastor’s 7 year absence was short lived – now, he has to deal with even more annoying people in the hotel. He works the bar and because of Charlie’s request he’s allowed to only fix up mocktails instead of real alcoholic drinks

- Based his design on a mainecoon cat, so he’s super fluffy. Lots and lots of fur, which is unkempt because he gave up on trying to care for it a while ago

- Owl wings. His right wing is clipped (because of the deal with Alastor) and he can no longer fly. He can’t even expand this wing to its’ full length without having to painfully strain it to get it to move out even a little bit

- boy why u so eyebrow…….

- I live for chubby Husk <3

- A bunch of scars

- A rough beard and a droopy mustache

- A stained, patterned blue shirt with rolled up sleeves and a missed button at the top, tiny magician hat, black pants + suspenders and a green cloth to wipe empty glasses

- Give this poor man a break…

NIFFTY

- Used to work at a tailor shop and one day, she came across Alastor when he went in to get his suit fixed after a fight. Rather than being presented with a deal offer, she offered her soul to him herself. He agreed, of course, but he was so weirded out by this that he decided to spare her life to further observe her antics. They’ve grown fond of each other and now have a father-daughter relationship of sorts

- I rlly leaned into the idea of her being a bug… She’s a grasshopper/ant mix, so she has antennae and mandibles

- Fluffy, glowy hair that she curls with hair rollers every day

- Green eye (same shade as her dress)

- Freckles :3

- Big patterned dress, a matching head scarf, blue apron and blue cleaning gloves

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 5

A/N: Holy hell, this chapter got hands. I sincerely apologize for it taking me almost two months to update. Buckle up -- we got some unsettling bullshit brewing within this one. As always, thank you all for your continued support, and please mind the tags. Happy reading!

Rating: Explicit Word count: ~8.2k (I'm rounding up) Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named) Warnings: 18+, minor character deaths, depictions of murder, dark romance, pregnancy mention (of course), manipulative behaviors, toxic relationship, jealousy, abuse mention, minor references to suicidal ideation and overall mental health struggles Summary: Tav awakes after the events of the prior evening alone, confused. Having overheard a discussion between the servants, she makes her way down into the depths of the manor and uncovers a shocking secret.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

She awakens; startled.

Her eyes snap open and Tav springs up from the plush cocoon of linens she's wrapped in – white sheets and a cream colored duvet envelop her. She looks around, frantically searching a room that is unfamiliar. There’s a crick in her neck as she turns her head too fast. She winces then raises a hand to rub over the spot. Raised scabs cover the two signature pinpoints in her neck as she continues to soothe the aching muscle.

There's a heaviness to her head as the events of the prior night swim to the surface of her mind, panic starting anew. 

‘He bit me,’ Tav remembers, urgently. She extends both arms in front of herself for inspection, flipping them over again and again. At this moment, Tav cannot recall what her usual skin tone is – her chest heaves with labored breath as she looks hurriedly around the room for a mirror. In the corner, alongside the wall, sits a vanity. She bolts from the bed, rushing urgently to the mirror.

Grasping the edges of the vanity, Tav snaps her head up to meet the glass.

Her reflection…stares back at her.

Astarion had kept his word – he did not turn her.

She sighs, collapsing into the seat stationed at the vanity. Autonomic tremors wrack her body, adrenaline beginning to take effect. Closing her eyes, Tav focuses on her breathing. She takes a deep breath in through her nose, blowing it out through her mouth. Again. And again. As she rides the choppy waves of her anxiety, a sharp twist in her stomach has her laying a hand over her lower abdomen. With the palm of her hand, Tav rubs soothing circles over the plush softness of her growing belly.

“Glad to see you're okay,” she says affectionately to her stomach, lips curling up into a smile.

How did she end up here? Where is here? Peeling open her eyes, Tav gives the room an honest gander. It's not large, but not necessarily small, either. The room hosts hunter green walls with natural pine wood flooring. There’s a glass door to the front of the room, adjacent to the bed, with two smaller windows on either side; Tav can only assume it leads to a balcony. Beige drapes hang over the windows, parted gently down the middle and tied to the wall by golden holdbacks. There are plants – so many plants – throughout the room. Marbled pothos in hanging pots, a small belladonna on a stand; various other flora and fauna act as decor for the quaint bedroom.

She rises and walks back to the bed, noting that her belongings have been placed neatly along the bottom edge. Tav pokes through them, revealing each layer; her satchel, scarf, and hat are all present. Personal items are all accounted for as she rummages through her bag. It isn't until she notices her dress folded under her bag that she’s aware of her current attire. Somehow, she's now wearing a beige silk slip gown, the hem stopping just above her knees. The top and bottom of the dress are embroidered with white lace; a small bow is positioned right between the beginning of her cleavage.

Tav scans the room again and finds a matching bathrobe hanging on a hook behind the bedroom door. She quickly gathers the robe and throws it over herself, catching from the corner of her eye, what appears to be a note on the nightstand adjacent to the bed as she turns around. A vase of freshly cut red roses also resides atop the table.

Tav picks up the note and inspects it. The handwriting is Astarion's – of that, she's certain. The note is addressed to her. It reads,

‘Tavaria,

My apologies that you will wake alone with only this letter  – I'm in rather high demand, today. I am hopeful this note will provide much needed clarification.

It seems as though we’ve had a repeat of our first encounter, yester eve. For that, I owe you an apology. I was overzealous. Truly, I'd forgotten how much I savor your blood, and just how easy it is to lose myself to it.

Rest assured, as soon as I'd realized you'd lost consciousness, I stopped. Everything. Nothing further occurred during your incapacitation. I gathered us both and brought you here, to your bedroom, to rest. I hope you don't mind my giving you a change of clothing; not sure how you'd feel about falling asleep in your day clothes. You did always make it a point to change before retiring for the evening.’

Tav smiles as she reads over the letter. He was right; she never fell asleep without dressing down for the evening. When he had asked her why, she'd told him that it would invite horrid dreams, were she not comfortable during sleep. 

She continues reading,

‘I've tasked Magdalena with helping you around the manor. You need only ask that of which you desire, and she will assist. I suggest taking your morning tea out on the balcony overlooking the courtyard garden. The roses I've left were cut fresh from one of our many bushes this morning.

Tav looks to the glass door leading out to the patio. She catches a glimpse of the small courtyard beyond the ledge of the balcony. Various shades of pink and red roses line the courtyard walls; they're no doubt the source of his gift.

Although the urge to sequester you all to myself is an incredibly formidable one, our time is sadly not yet. You are free to leave whenever you desire. Simply inform Magdalena of your wish to leave, and she will escort you.

I do hope you make a habit of coming to visit. It would be lovely to have you at future events.

I ever so miss having you near, my dearest spitfire.

A. A.

Spitfire – his old moniker for her.

The first time he saw her charge headfirst into a group of Gnolls, he bestowed that name upon her. She'd yelled orders from her frontal position to the back line, the pack dropping quickly from their combined onslaught. All piss and raw vinegar as she cut them down, screaming with each swing of her great sword. For Astarion, it was exhilarating to watch the woman he was newly involved with take the initiative. He would later tell her it was a deciding factor in how he inevitably fell for her.

Tav places the note back on the table, raising her head toward the windows. She approaches the door to the balcony, placing a hand upon the handle. It turns with relative ease and Tav pushes open the door, stepping out onto the patio. The sun bathes her skin in a comforting warmth and she takes a moment to enjoy the sensation. Despite it being morning, she can already tell the weather will be unbearably warm by midday. Yet, for now, this is fine. This will do nicely to help soothe her worrisome heart. At least, for a short while.

Looking out beyond the balcony, Tav is greeted with a full view of the courtyard garden. She sees the rose bushes from before clearer, now. Various colored tulips outline the brick path cut down its middle, along with lavender and catmint, creating a dazzling display of color. Tav closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. A sweet floral scent meets her nose and she instantly relaxes, shoulders falling into a more comfortable position.

She recalls Astarion's surprise when they reached Baldur's Gate. “You forget just how much color there is in the world,” he told her. Seeing first hand how much vibrancy the garden possesses, it's no wonder he speaks so highly of it.

As she looks down at the grounds below, Tav sees gardeners trimming hedges. A couple look up and wave, having caught her in their periphery. She waves back as a kind gesture, and returns back to the bedroom. There's knocking on the bedroom door – three short taps with the back of a knuckle, just as she closes the door to the balcony.

“Lady Tavaria? Are you awake?” comes a light voice from the other side of the door.

‘Magdalena.’

“Y-yes! I'm up,” Tav answers. She walks to the bedroom door but doesn't open it. Instead, she chooses to stand in front, awaiting a response from the servant.

“Ah, wonderful!” Magdalena exclaims jovially. May I come in, my lady?”

Tav worries the inside of her cheek, hesitantly raising a hand to the doorknob. The woman is harmless, she knows, yet her heart still wavers. With a brief shuttering of her eyes, Tav draws in a deep breath again and opens the door.

Magdalena stands just outside the door, a tray of tea and finger sandwiches in her hands. “Brightest of mornings, Lady Tavaria,” she greets with a short curtsey. Her signature smile is widely on display. “I've brought tea and some breakfast, at the behest of Lord Ancunín.”

Tav nods and steps out of the way, welcoming Magdalena into the bedroom. The older woman places the tray on top of a wooden dresser along the wall. “Thank you,” Tav says, walking over to the tray. 

Her stomach growls as she looks over the sandwiches. It dawns on her that she hasn't eaten since lunch the day before. As she reaches for a piece of sandwich, Tav notices a small scroll rolled up on the tray next to the tea pot. Choosing to forego food at the moment, she picks up the scroll and starts cautiously untying the binding. “What is this?” Tav asks, glancing up toward Magdalena.

“A scroll of Lesser Restoration,” Magdalena explains. “The young Master insisted you’d have need of it.”

Tav opens the scroll and reads over the incantation. During their travels, it wasn't uncommon for Tav to ask this of Shadowheart, especially after nights with Astarion. Shadowheart would scold her for taking things too far yet again with their vampiric companion, but would heal her, nonetheless.

“That's very thoughtful of him,” Tav answers, flatly. She recites the spell laid out within the scroll, a faint blue aura enveloping her. The scroll disintegrates within her hands as the aura clears. Her head suddenly feels clearer, her body stronger. Tav never quite understood how the spell works, but she chooses never to question it further. For now, she'll enjoy her breakfast, pouring herself a cup of tea before choosing a piece of sandwich.

Magdalena smiles again as Tav begins eating. “May I run you a bath?” she offers. “It will be done by the time you finish.”

“Ah, no,” Tav answers while chewing, raising a hand to cover her mouth, “that's quite alright. I think I'll just slowly get myself together.”

Their eyes meet as Tav lifts her head toward the older woman once more. For a moment, the servant's eyes glow. Tav furrows her brow as she studies Magdalena’s face. She's seen this look before, but not since Cazador was still master of the palace. 

Suddenly, it clicks.

She's actively conferring with Astarion.

Magdalena's eyes return to their usual hue almost as quickly as they changed. Tav resumes her breakfast, feigning innocence of her discovery. 

“Of course, Lady Tavaria. That would be no problem at all,” says Magdalena. The servant makes toward the bedroom door, but turns around before exiting. “Please feel free to call for me, if you have need.”

Tav nods again while taking a sip of tea. “Of course, Magdalena. Thank you, though there's one question I have.” She motions toward the note lying on the nightstand next to the bed, seeking to prove her prior theory correct. “Astarion said in his note that I may leave whenever I please.” She places her tea back down on the tray, locking eyes once more with Magdalena. “Is that true?”

A brief moment passes without a response. Faint glowing rings appear around Magdalena’s irises once again, then fade within seconds. “Absolutely!” the woman exclaims, positively. “You’re free to come and go as you please. Master Astarion would never keep you here against your will.” The smirk on her face is not her own but that of Astarion’s, a blatant display of his compulsion over the older woman.

Tav draws in a shallow breath, deeply unsettled. “Thank you, Magdalena,” Tav says quietly, placing her cup of tea down. Magdalena bows before taking her leave of the bedroom, the door shutting with a soft ‘click’ behind her. Tav stares at the back of the door, mind beginning to race. 

Why spy on her if she's free to leave? Why offer her accommodations if Astarion has zero intent to keep her here? She winces as a sharp throb shoots through her neck. The scroll may have cleared her mind, though his mark is still very much present.

“He's hiding something,” Tav says aloud, raising a hand to rub the side of her neck. The scabs brush along her palm as she smoothes over the skin. She begins to ponder the night prior. The look on his face… His liar's smile. Tav knows the look well. He's used it on her and countless others across the duration of their journey together.

But why? It's her, after all. He can trust her, can't he? He can confide in her.

“You left me, remember?”

The words echo in her mind. She hates to admit it, but Tav broke his trust just as much as he broke hers. The exact moment of Astarion’s triumph is when she pulled away. When he finally achieved all he lusted after, she left. Rejected entirely the man he became, truly, for her. Sold the very essence of his conscience in a diabolical contract to achieve the confidence, power, and strength to protect her, to protect them, for the rest of eternity.

She drops her hand to her stomach, rubbing over the small bump of her lower belly. That same circumstance is the exact reason she's in her current position. It surprises her, though Tav believes Astarion is still somehow unaware of her condition. If he were, he would have half the manor waiting on her hand and foot. The best clerics and healers would be brought in from all around Faerûn. But above all, he would demand that she stay here. Tav has little doubt he would be an attentive and caring partner. Yet, it would mark the end of her freedom. There is no doubt in her mind about that.

Tav inevitably makes her way to the bath, stripping herself of the silken nightgown. She cleanses her skin thoroughly with care, looking delightfully at the array of soaps and oils provided to her. When she steps back out, she assembles her outfit from the day before. 

With one more small bite of a sandwich and a sip of tea, Tav heads out of the bedroom and into the large hallway. She's unfamiliar with this wing of the palace – not somewhere that was accessible to during their initial visit. It's entirely possible Astarion had this built during the renovations, though the marble carvings within the walls state otherwise. Plush red carpeting lines the hallway, leading to a grand wooden staircase.

Looking around, Tav notes that there is barely a presence on this floor. She begins making her way toward the staircase, noting that even the floor below looks just as deserted. The gears in her head begin turning; where could everyone be? It's barely mid-morning – certainly the servants have chores?

Upon reaching the bottom of the steps, Tav hears soft echoes of voices coming from around the corner. She believes this to be the main floor of the manor. Is he having a meeting in the foyer? The ballroom? She travels down the hall and hugs the corner wall. Slowly she peaks her head over the corner. No one is present in the manor foyer, yet when she turns her head toward the ballroom, Tav quickly pulls herself close to the wall in an effort to avoid being spotted.

Cautiously, Tav again looks around the corner, staying as flush with the wall as possible. There's a gathering of sorts within the ballroom. Maids and servants are arranging table sets, ornaments are being strung from the walls. One servant is up on a ladder hand-wiping each crystal of the delicate chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. 

Ah, this explains why the manor is so deserted. They're all here, seemingly preparing for an event. Tav looks around and quickly notes Astarion’s absence, yet catches Magdalena fussing with another servant.

“Why’s it we who have to do all this?” complains the young man. He's tall, thin, with shortly cropped ears. A half-elf, perhaps? Maybe even less. “Why's the Master get to sit all pretty while we're here working?” He's holding a silver teapot, polishing it with a soft, white cloth.

“Oh, Thaddeus,” Tav overhears Magdalena sigh, “Lord Ancunín trusts that everything will be up to his expectations, so long as it is us who do this.” The basket she holds comes to rest on a nearby table top as she turns to her companion. “You can hire just about anyone to do anything. But those finer details that have people talking for weeks?” She raises a hand, wagging a finger toward the young man. “Those can only be found by knowing your clientele. And we do.” She nods her head. “He knows that.”

Tav begins to pull back along the wall but stops once she hears the young man speak again, “You know him a long time, don't you?”

“I do,” Magdalena answers confidently.

“Was he always this arrogant?”

The pensive look in the woman's eyes gives Tav pause once again. “He wasn't always in a position to be otherwise,” Magdalena replies quietly.

Tav finally pulls herself back along the wall, looking down to the floor. It's how he survived Cazador. The slavery. The whoring. The hunger. All of it. “Spite made me who I am!” She remembers the venom laced within those words, having pushed him too far. Her heart skips in her chest as it floods with unsettling heat.

“Do I really have to go down there?” the boy from earlier says from around the corner. “It's cold down there. And smells awful.”

Tav listens closely as Magdalena responds, “Oh fine, you don't have to go right now. But someone must go down before tomorrow night’s banquet.”

‘Down?’ Tav ponders. The only thing she remembers being under the manor is the crypts. Those were left empty after the ritual, having sacrificed all those lives in the Rite. Nothing remained but the stench of death and stale air. What could possibly be down there that they need to check on?

In a split decision, Tav peers quickly over the edge of the wall again. The path is clear; every servant is occupied with their tasks at hand. She then dashes to the opposite wall, hugging it close as she listens to the activity within the ballroom.

Nothing. Just the same chatter as before.

If she has any hope of making it to the crypts, Tav remembers she needs the ring. That accursed fucking ring, engraved with the Szarr family sigil. She doubts Astarion has changed the enchantment, as evidenced by the heavy metal doors of the ballroom. ‘But where to find the ring?’ she ponders. Tav recalls a matching set – one within Cazador's possession, and the other…

Godey. 

Astarion returned the duplicate back to fucking Godey. Or, really, what was left of him. Once obtaining Cazador's ring, he returned the prior to the skeleton before departing the palace. 

“I very much deserve the real thing. Not some cheap imitation,” he says. As Tav watches him kneel before the corpse of his tormentor, he gives pause. They’re the only two occupants of the room, the others choosing to stay above in the foyer. The room smells horrid; fetid. Nothing but the stench of death and decay permeates the air. Astarion sits with his head bowed low, hands balled into tight fists on his thighs. Tav refrains from speaking, letting Astarion have his moment. Eventually, the newly ascended vampire lord reaches into his pocket and produces the duplicate ring, dropping it within the pile of bones that was once animated. As he rises, Astarion turns to Tav and says, “I’m done here.”

She quirks her brow. “Are you sure?” Tav asks in concern. “We should really talk–”

“I’m done here,” Astarion repeats again, more sternly. He walks past Tav without making eye contact and heads for the stairs. Tav looks back at the room briefly before exiting, then follows Astarion up the stairs.

Looking around, Tav realizes the layout of the manor has changed. “But has he changed the structure underneath?” she whispers to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she finds it – a small stairway at the end of the hall leading down and–

‘Aha; there it is.’

Tav quickly scans the hall and upon realizing the way is clear, dashes toward the staircase. She hurries down the stairs, halting momentarily at the bottom to perform another quick surveillance of her surroundings. 

Having Astarion as a teacher certainly helped improve her stealth. His two-hundred years of experience shined brightest as he glided about the night, lifting coin purses and trinkets with finesse so smooth they'd all be right out of earshot when the shrills of the victims finally rang out. Tav would stand in awe as he'd then pawn the hot items, using every smooth edge of his perfectly sculpted face to its full advantage. It was often that he'd come away with more gold in hand than the others during these exchanges, leading to the group agreeing unanimously that Astarion barter with all merchants.

The way looks clear once more and Tav ventures into the hall. This floor looks little changed; the…entertainment…quarters are off to the left, which means the kennels are still to the right. Tav turns her head as she approaches the threshold of the kennels. The blood-stained mattresses from months prior are still strewn about the floor of the room, coupled with the shackles welded into the stone. What makes her breath catch is Godey’s skeleton, lifeless on the ground. It's laying in the exact same position it was left in when he was slain. 

Astarion hasn't touched it. 

No one has touched anything in this room, let alone on this floor, from the looks of it.

With a heavy sigh, Tav steps through the doorway and enters the torture chamber. The air still carries the horrid scent of decay, but not nearly as strongly as the months’ prior. She kneels before the pile of bones on the floor that once was Godey, and without much hesitation, begins rummaging around for the ring. She finds it under his ribcage, nestled between his pelvis, and quickly stashes it in her satchel. Tav tries rearranging Godey’s remains as respectfully as she can, then rises from the floor.

She's quick to leave the room, not affording herself a glance back, and slinks back up the stairs. A servant passes as she reaches the top of the stairs and Tav halts, watching them intently. Thankfully, they fail to notice her presence, and she continues up into the hallway. Her next challenge is to somehow sneak into the ballroom, to the doorway off to the left that houses the elevator shaft. Astarion taught her an invisibility spell during their lessons, though her grasp on the spell is crude at best, only being able to hold the veil for half its usual time. 

She'll have to be quick, is all.

Tav hugs the wall once more as she makes her way back to the ballroom. Silently she prays no changes have been made to that wing of the manor. She whispers the incantation for the invisibility spell to herself; her form blinks out of view and she dashes into the room. Holding her concentration as best she can, Tav nearly collides with a maid as she turns the corner. The spell flickers for a soft moment, threatening to collapse entirely, before she inevitably regains focus. She looks around briefly – no one within the ballroom seems to have noticed her mishap, and she quickly slips behind the door leading to the elevator, closing it promptly behind her.

Exhaling in relief, Tav releases the spell, retrieving the ring from her satchel as she walks toward the elevator. The gate opens as she approaches and she steps in. As she raises the ring to the corresponding sigil etched within the metal wall, Tav winces, hoping that the activation of the elevator doesn’t trigger an alarm. Ancient gears begin to wind, feeling the vibrations under her feet, and the gate closes. The elevator begins to draw down, and Tav sighs in relief.

The air shifts as she further descends down the shaft. An uneasiness takes root deep within her chest as the temperature shifts; she shivers, and suddenly, the elevator stops with a jump. The gate swings open and Tav steps off. She's assaulted by the scent of rotting organic matter and stale blood. Her stomach churns, half in nausea but also hunger. Curse the child growing within – already having such a twisted moral compass. Most befitting of the union between a vampire and a Bhaalspawn.

Her footsteps reverberate loudly against the tall stone walls of the dungeon. As she looks around, Tav realizes that this, too, has been left untouched during the renovations. Making her way to the main hall, she ponders where Astarion would keep his secret hidden, were there one. She turns off to the left and heads to where the remains of Vellioth lay; where most accounts from all prior lords of the manor reside.

Entering the stone room, Tav immediately notices the two sarcophaguses off to the right. They, too, are made of stone, their lids decorated with intricate carvings. She quirks her brow, drawing closer to the structures. These look new; a fine dust has settled on the ground surrounding each, most likely shaken off the while being placed.

A quick memory flits across her mind, of the two men mentioned within the Gazette. Evidence of fangs marks marring their necks, vanishing from the crime scene without a trace. Again Tav's stomach churns, queasily this time. 

Perhaps these are Astarion's new sleeping chambers? Her brain is trying to form a positive explanation. Maybe he's grown tired of satin and feathered beds, craving the comforts of solitude. 

She winces, seemingly staring out into nothing, and pulls her head to one side. ‘No,’ Tav thinks, ‘not after that particular event…’

She approaches the first of the tombs, cautiously extending her hands to the lid. With a breath, she pushes, the bellowing sound of stone grinding against stone cutting through the heavy silence of the crypt. Finally, the cover drops to the floor with a loud ‘thud’, the ground shaking briefly beneath her feet.

Closing her eyes, Tav leans forward over the lip of the stone coffin. She wills her eyes to then open observing the contents inside.

Her mouth drops open, breath arresting in her chest by what she finds.

Within the stone coffin lay a man in hooded black garb. Of elven lineage, most likely – not much older than a hundred. As she scans his form, Tav notes a discolored bruise on one side of the man’s neck. A trail of blood leads down his chest, obscured by the collar of his garb. Reaching into the coffin, she gently pushes the hood to the side, allowing her a better view of his neck.

Her pupils grow wide.

Within the blossomed bruise, two pin marks decorate the man’s skin. Tav raises a hand to her neck and traces the distance between each of her scars. She extends her hand over the man's neck, keeping her fingers aligned. 

She gasps – the marks line up near perfectly with her fingers. 

‘No…’

A surge of heat crawls throughout her body, her heart drumming loudly within her ears. Tav darts her eyes to the second stone coffin and sets to work on shoving off the lid. With one final groan from Tav, the lid hits the floor, ground shaking again from the impact. Quickly, Tav peers over the ledge.

Another young man in hooded black garb – a dragonborn. Tav reaches down to push the hood over, revealing the man's neck to her eyes. He, too, possesses the same pin marks as the first.

“Somehow I knew I'd find you here,” comes a smooth voice from beyond the corridor. 

Tav halts, a shiver running down her spine. She knows that baritone voice, all too well.

Him.

Footsteps echo off stone flooring, the sound increasing in intensity as he walks down the hall. He emerges from the shadows and into full view; he's chosen his red and black doublet today, with a simple pair of black slacks. His loafers are the same as the day's prior. Not a single strand of hair atop his head is out of place. Perfectly poised, per usual.

“Shouldn't’ve taught me your entire repertoire, then,” Tav retorts with slight annoyance, swiveling her head to address him over her shoulder.

He smirks as he closes the distance. “Half, little love,” Astarion chides with a wag of a finger. “I taught you half of what I know.” He stands just within the doorway’s arch, crossing his arms over his chest. Astarion then tilts his head to one side, pulling his face into a questioning scowl. “Why exactly are you here?”

Silence hangs heavy in the air while Tav conjures a response. She narrows her eyes, shooting Astarion a searing glance.

“You lied to me, Astarion,” she accuses, raising a finger at him. “And I knew you did.” Looking to the twin coffins lining the walls of the room, Tav shakes her head. “I overheard the servants talking about something here within the crypts, and I–”

Astarion drops his brow. “Who did you overhear?” comes his stern response, laced within a deep growl.

Tav shrugs her shoulders. “Does it matter?” she suggests. “The damage is already done, Astarion. I know the truth.”

He's quiet as she walks toward him; stoic. He stops breathing, having no true need of it, and he’s a living statue before her eyes. Ivory skin with just the faintest hint of life. Piercing red eyes. A strong, sharp nose. Hardened jaw clenched tight… 

Tav is quick to rid her mind of the creeping lust that threatens to bloom within.

“But what I don't understand is why lie to me, Astarion?” She continues to argue her point, pounding a fist over her chest. “What do you gain? What do you preserve?”

Astarion doesn't answer immediately, likely trying to piece together a sound reply. He shifts his weight onto one hip and sighs. “Has our dearest friend Wyllyam not told you of our arrangement?”

Tav shifts back a step, turning her face toward the side only minimally, eyes still fixated upon him. “What are you implying?”

Astarion’s resulting smile oozes malice. “Oh dear, you really don't know.” He drops his arms from his chest and closes the distance. Tav flinches as he leans toward her, dropping his voice to a purr, “And here I thought you were just playing the part.”

“Know what, Astarion? Speak plainly,” demands Tav.

Again, a momentary lapse in response. He stares blankly, expressionless as he says, “Awfully surprised this hasn't come up during pillow talk.”

Tav blinks in genuine shock. ‘Pillow talk? What in the hells–’

Suddenly, her brain mulls over the thought and she scowls. “Astarion, are you asking if I've ever slept with Wyll?”

He leans back, shifting his head again to one side. “I'm not quite sure, love,” he says, feigning innocence. “Perhaps you could tell me?”

Flabbergasted, Tav shouts, “He's the Duke, Astarion! I report directly to him!” She shakes her head in disagreement. “No, our interactions are strictly professional.”

“Of course, but old habits die hard, my dear. Surely you know that,” Astarion retorts.

The sentence churns within her brain. Tav recalls the events of their journey against the Absolute. Every dinner, every laugh, every intimate moment shared.

‘He can't possibly be referring to…’ 

Her attention snaps back to Astarion, who waits patiently as she unravels his meaning.

“We shared a kiss, Astarion,” Tav explains, mildly annoyed. “You and I pledged ourselves to one another soon after. You know this.”

“You both shared a rather intimate dance, as well.” He begins to circle her; Tav keeps her head on a swivel as she tracks his movement. “What else, I wonder, did you share in our time away from one another?”

“I already told you, our relationship is strictly professional. I harbor no additional feelings for Wyll.”

Astarion's raises his hands in defeat, bowing slightly at the waist. “I'll accept what you say as truth.”

Somberly, Tav looks toward the two stone coffins holding the unfortunate victims. “How does Wyll have anything to do with this?” she questions. “I doubt he'd take murder lightly.”

Astarion huffs a laugh. “Oh, my darling, how wrong you are. They aren’t dead.” Astarion moves toward the first sarcophagus, stopping just next to it. “And they're not innocent. I can assure you of that.”

She whips her head toward Astarion, bewilderment painted clear up on her face. “Not dead?” reiterates Tav. “Astarion, I'm sure of what I saw. Those two men are dead; gone of this world.”

“Did you touch them?” he inquires, lifting a brow.

“No,” she admits, shaking her head, “why would I?”

Astarion lifts his chin, nodding toward the coffins. “Touch them,” he dares. “Go on.”

Tav holds his challenging gaze for a moment before bowing her head. Cautiously, she walks toward the coffins again, choosing the one that holds the elven man. Quickly she looks to Astarion, who nods his head again in encouragement. Tav raises a shaky hand over the lip of the coffin, reaching for the young man inside.

The hand connects and her eyes grow wide.

‘His skin…it's…’

“Cool, but not chilled, yes?” Astarion comments smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tav quickly retracts her hand, shooting a heated glance at Astarion. “What the hells is this, Astarion?” she yells. “What kind of enchantment is this?!”

Knitting his brow, Astarion says, “Tell me, darling – does this satisfy your desire to paint me as some type of devil?” Slowly he stalks toward her, like a predator encircling their prey. Instinctively, Tav backs away, desperate to create more distance. “Does this prove your preconceived notions correct?”

“Astarion…” Tav says in a small voice, but she halts her retreat – a wave of rebellion overtaking her. She stands steady, watching his every movement.

He stops before her, heavy breaths rippling through his nostrils. “Will you fly from me again?” he asks, jaw tight. He leans forward, adding in a growl, “Do you fear me, now?”

He’s spiraling.

Backed into a corner, he's poised to strike. As she studies his face, Tav notes the tension set deep within his features. “...Not unless I have reason to,” she challenges. Tav narrows her eyes in question. “Do I?”

The tension eases somewhat, Astarion's face softening. He straightens his posture, placing a hand on the lip of the coffin for support. “Of course not,” he admits, looking off to the side. Astarion worries at his bottom lip. “I would see this entire city burn, if you willed.”

A cold shutter runs down the length of her spine. “I would never ask that of you, Astarion,” Tav states, cocking her head to one side.

“I know,” he smiles, lips pulling into a smirk, “but my offer still stands.”

Despite offering to raze an entire city in her stead, Tav realizes he still cannot call this what it truly is. 

Love.

How much he loves her. Loves the idea of them. His worst fear realized, Tav comes to understand, is her turning her back on him again. Walking out the door, never to return. Astarion still cannot admit to himself that he longs, desperately, for nothing more than them being together, for as long as the accursed Gods above allow.

But, she knows. She sees it – sees him.

Her eyes wander back to the elven man in the stone coffin. Tav turns to face the coffin and dips her hand once more, placing the flat of her hand against the man’s cheek. “How is it possible that they still live?” she asks, curious. “You bit them, didn't you? Drained them?”

“I did,” agrees Astarion with a slight nod of his head, “however, that's only the first part. They haven't yet reached the final act.” His chest rises as he draws in a breath, exhaling with audible force. He meets her eye as he says, “Currently, they lay between.”

Tav's jaw drops in silent question. “How do you mean between, Astarion?” she asks, mortified. “Are you implying they're in a sort of stasis?”

“Somewhat, yes,” confirms Astarion. “To create a vampire spawn, the victim must be buried under six feet of dirt. After which,” he continues, gesturing with a light twirl of his wrist, “they awaken the following night. Beckoned, by their new master.” A hollow look sets on his face, eyes dropping to the floor. “Bound to them. Forever.”

“This happened weeks ago,” Tav is quick to argue, the soft burn of panic igniting within her chest. “You've kept them here this entire time? In this state?”

Astarion shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance, adopting a sort of apathy as he says, “Not much else to do, unfortunately. Not until I decide otherwise.”

A heavy sense of dread looms overhead. Tav can hardly believe how seemingly detached he is from the severity of the situation – willfully keeping these men in limbo, until he, essentially, gets around to settling the matter. 

Completely at his mercy.

“This is hardly fair, Astarion,” says Tav, voice quivering.

“And what makes you think they're deserving of such a gesture?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

“Everyone is,” she states in an urgent breath, “especially in death.”

“You’ve no idea who your heart bleeds for,” Astarion counters in a low growl, teeth clenched.

In a display of confidence, albeit foolishly, Tav approaches the vampire. “Did these men give themselves to you willingly?” she asks, pushing forward. Taken aback, Astarion steps away. “Did they pledge fealty to you? Or did you take it?”

Still stepping back, Astarion says quietly, “That hardly matters.”

“No, that's precisely what matters,” Tav insists, forcefully. She halts her frontal assault, choosing to meet his gaze. “Answer me, Astarion – did these men give you permission to turn them?”

They stand, eyes locked in a heated silent exchange, before Astarion finally admits, “No.” it's a one word response, yet it holds the weight of an entire mountain within its meaning.

The fire within her chest threatens to burst into an inferno, and Tav can tell Astarion is feeling the pressure, as well. There's a sheen to his eyes that only appears before the fall. Before a breakthrough.

“Is that the sort of master you want to be?” she pushes. The consequences of such an accusation can leave her in the same position as the men in the coffins, though this is another test of their bond. “One who takes without consideration?” Tav continues. 

Can he withstand moral objectivity? Criticism? ‘Comparison,’ she thinks to herself, ‘to Cazador?’

“I would not wish to create spawn of those unaware of this life,” Astarion states mournfully.

“But if you complete the process, they become your spawn, correct?” infers Tav, continuing to lay on the pressure. “You would have the ability to compel them.”

Astarion shoots her a side glance. “I would never do that to them,” he snarls defensively, his limit quickly approaching.

“No, but you would still have the option. Just as he did. And they would know that.” Astarion's nostrils begin to flare as Tav encircles him, his face screwing up into a tightly disapproving scowl. “Just as you did.”

“Tav,” Astarion growls out in warning, fists clenching with fevor. He follows her path around him, eyes glued to her form.

“That at any moment,” she continues, “you could bend them to your will. Just as he did.” Astarion's chest is heaving by this point. Strong, ragged breaths tear through his chest.

Yet, Tav goes on. “How long do you think you'll have before they rebel? Before they seek to reclaim the life you unjustly stole from them?” Tav stops just before him, craning her neck to one side as she says, “Does that sound like a familiar story to you?”

“I am not him!” Astarion shouts, hunching over. His fangs are bared, his palms splayed wide. His eyes flicker a bright gold for all but a second, but it's a second too long for Tav to not take notice. Astarion drops to his knees and Tav backs away, startled by the display before her.

Astarion's nails dig deeply at the stone floor below. He's snarling – saliva now drips from his mouth as his body gives over to a fit. Panic settles within Tav’s chest, though her feet refuse to carry her any further away. Astarion whips back his head – pupils blown wide – and their eyes meet; a thin ring of ruby red encircles them. 

“Astarion…” Tav sighs. She eases herself to the floor, but doesn't reach for him. Instead, she sits attentively – an unspoken display of trust that he will not take advantage of her vulnerability. Hoping that somewhere, deep within, he's still the man she came to love.

A low rumble rises from Astarion's chest as he studies her face. His eyes roll into his skull and he sits back, blinking rapidly. Raising a hand, he swipes it down the front of his face, then shakes his head.

“...Are you back?” Tav asks, timidly.

Astarion gives a knowing glance, nodding his head in silent agreement.

“What was that?” she asks.

Settling his gaze on the floor, hanging his head, Astarion confesses, “I…I don't know,” His chest rises and falls with labored breaths. “Forgive me; I meant you no harm.”

Somehow, she knows. Trusts in the one impenetrable fact that he will always protect her. That no harm will ever come to her, either by his own doing or by others. Tav doesn't fear him, nor what he is capable of.

“I know,” Tav says, confidently. She holds out her hands, palms turned upward, in offer to Astarion. They don't have to talk about what happened just yet. For right now, they must move forward.

He gives pause at her gesture, but then readily accepts, enclosing his hands over hers. They aid one another in rising off the floor and stand, keeping their hands interlocked just a moment too long.

Tav speaks first, saying, “You have to do something with them, Astarion. You can't just leave them here and pray they'll go away.”

His hand finds one of hers again, entwining their fingers once more. “...What would you suggest I do?” he asks, unsure. Astarion looks to her from under his lashes, brow knit tightly in a concerned scowl.

Tav squeezes his hand encouragingly. “Show them the mercy you wish was afforded to you.”

Astarion lifts his head, eyes widening as he looks to her. “...You would allow such a thing?” he asks with a hint of desperation in his voice.

Tav brings their interlocked hands to her lips, placing a gentle kiss to the top of his. “I support you doing what's right, Astarion.”

His eyes flutter momentarily, somewhat surprised by the intimate gesture, before he dips his head in a short nod. “Fine,” he says, “I'll do it.” 

Releasing his grip on her hand, Astarion moves to the coffin holding the young elven man. He reaches for his side, under his doublet, and Tav hears him unsheath his dagger from its hilt. Seconds later, Astarion pulls it free from his hip with a skilled jerk.

With a shaky breath, Astarion takes the opposite hand and begins tracing down along the breast bone of the unconscious man beneath. He feels, under the pads of his fingers, for each intercostal space, stopping once he reaches the fourth. Now moving his hand slightly to the left of the sternum, he dips his fingers again to confirm proper placement. The man's heart beats slowly under his touch; Astarion releases his breath, and looks again to Tav.

Tav sees the trepidation in his eyes. He's asking silently, again, for her permission to continue. If what he’s about to do is tolerable. Will she turn and run if he goes through with this? Would it be too much for her to witness him at his worst? 

She nods almost instinctively, taking notice of her own heightened state. There once was a time when the call of blood and sinew thrilled her; though now, the adrenaline coursing through her veins exists for a different reason entirely. Her heart beats strong against its cage, flooding her ears. 

Astarion means to kill these men. Mercifully, yes, but kill them, all the same. And she's allowing it. Encouraging it. Guiding his hand toward a path of resolution. A chance at redemption for his soured soul, all but forgotten by every God.

It's no matter to her, really – she longs to be his sanctuary. The savior of his damned existence. She wasn't strong enough then, during the ritual, but by the Gods she will never make that mistake again. Stop at nothing now to save him. To give him a new chance at life.

One where they all can exist together. Him, her, and the blossoming love that grows within.

Receiving the answer he sought, Astarion turns his attention again to the man’s chest. He raises the dagger, replacing his fingers with the tip of the blade. He pauses for a second, then begins pushing the knife forward.

A deep, agonal groan rings loudly against the crypt walls the moment Astarion's blade pierces heart. A shiver passes over Tav as she traces the movements of Astarion's arm. He twists the dagger within the elf’s chest, another garbled sound slipping past the young man's pale lips as Astarion carves through myocardium.

Astarion stands, near perfectly still, in the same position until the sound dies down. Only then does he pull the dagger free. He wipes the flat of the blade against his thigh, moving toward the dragonborn in a seamless transition.

A final groan spills from the older man. It reverberates within the crypt, drifting off into a dull dum. Astarion carefully removes the blade from the man’s chest, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor with a loud ‘clang’. Astarion drags a hand down the length of his face and begins stalking backwards. “It's done,” he comments, turning on his heels and heading toward the exit. His head hangs low as he passes Tav.

She hardly acknowledges his passing – she’s too transfixed on the scene before her. 

Finally, the two men lay dead. Her nose picks up the faint scent of their blood as it slowly trickles from their wounds, though the smell is not as fragrant as that of a fresh kill. The scent envelops her once more and her stomach lurches in disgust.

��It's rancid!’ she cries to herself. Tav places a hand over her abdomen, rubbing soothing circles over her belly, hoping to calm this sudden wave of nausea.

The crushing reality of the situation begins to set in. Tav had encouraged Astarion to show these men mercy. Mercy that wasn’t shown to him. She knew he'd likely choose this option, but the why escaped her. 

Until now.

“Astarion,” she calls out in a shaky breath, beginning to understand, “does this mean you…?”

Astarion halts just before stepping beyond the room's threshold. He turns slowly, looking at Tav as he says, “I'm holding a charity ball tomorrow evening. In Wyll's honor.” His voice is flat – devoid of its usual flair. “You should come. Speak with him. He can explain this better than I could ever hope to try.”

He's already rebuilding his walls.

Tav shifts to meet his gaze. A single tear tracks down Astarion's face and he quickly wipes it away, but she sees. Sees the bob of his neck as he swallows. Finds the hollow look in his eyes as he meets hers. “You did the right thing, Astarion,” she states, trying to provide reassurance. Give him an encouraging hand.

Yet, he's quick to refuse it.

“Then why doesn't it feel that way?” Astarion confesses, sternly. He promptly turns again and heads once more to the doorway, disappearing beyond the threshold.

Tav stands alone within the crypt. Her knees suddenly grow weak as the evening's events finally catch up to her. She guides herself softly to the floor, supporting her weight on a single arm as she leans to one side. Tav brings her other hand to rest over her chest and feels the crazed beating of her heart. The crushing weight of the evening settles deep in her bones.

Part of Astarion…wishes that were him.

[windvexer]

Hello, it's the anon with alexithymia! And. huh. Everyone I've talked to before have basically agreed I'm naturally going to be real bad at the stuff. That witchcraft naturally requires you to be in tune with that kind of stuff and there's very little that I specifically could actually manage because of it. No one's suggested before that it's all unrelated. So thank you. I'm having one of those "have to reconsider everything I've ever been told and holy crap I've been making it way harder for myself than I had to this entire time" moments

I think if we sit down with the idea that "you must be in tune with emotions to practice witchcraft," and ponder it for even a second or two, we might realize that it doesn't make a lot of sense.

I mean bear with me for a second here, Anon. Let's say that I'm a very emotionally healthy neurotypical person, and I'm practicing witchcraft well for 10 years. I'm so good at it because I can tell when I'm angry versus just hungry.

But then I get into a car crash which was very scary for me, and it triggers some other long-term anxieties, and I've got to go on an antidepressant for a little while until things get sorted. And as a side-effect of this trauma and medication, I become disconnected from my feelings.

So... that's it? My spiritual and religious practice that's been my foundation for 10 years is gone when I need it the most, because I'm in a bad mental health place for several months? My gods and spirits aren't going to listen to me because I'm in a bad place? The spell that's worked 100 times is going to stop, because I can't compel myself to feel the right emotions during the casting, or receive emotional input during the casting?

That's a fairweather faith if I've ever heard one. Imagine your witchcraft not being there for you because you've got a lot of stuff going on and as a side-effect you've been cut off from your feelings.

I imagine maybe you've fallen in with some people who believe that "shadow work" and self-therapy are synonymous with witchcraft? Or, people who have genuinely not untangled the idea that feeling!emotions is separate from feeling!energies.

Like even regarding what you were saying in the last ask about feeling the vibes of the room and empathy. It's not like you have to be emotionally receptive and articulate to develop psychism where you can confidently conclude, "that person's aura is the color red and they will be agitated if I get too close to them." Sure, you can receive that information through emotion. Or you can receive it as colors and words. Etc.

Anyway, best of luck to you.

My advice: don't get too caught up in trying to sense/perceive external energies and inputs just at the beginning. This is somewhat akin to a writer sitting down to start their first novel at the cafe, and constantly pausing to figure out if someone walking down the street might be a literary agent.

[witchofthesouls]

Oh~ I just saw your latest post about cybertronians and human dances and I love it!

As a former ballerina, I loved the admiration from the audience but over time grew to hate the process of ballet dancing. Between the cut-throat competition, the EDs, the amount of toenails that have fallen off and lost, and the fact that I don’t really have much feeling left in my feet due to the 15 years worth of ballet that damaged them.

I still love dancing, I just don’t put it above my peace and health anymore, so I can look back at my ballet career and all the stuff that happened and laugh. Trust me, my story isn’t unique among the thousands of ballet performers out there.

I think that cybertronian would be kind of horrified about the ‘smile behind the pain’ and ‘there is beauty in pain’ aspect of ballet, especially the medics and especially about the falling off toenails 😂

Ohhh, thank you for sharing! I actually had some thoughts about this since my mom is a nurse with patients who were professional dancers and holy hell, the kind of injuries that could happen! Ballet feet, indeed.

First Aid would be absolutely horrified and feeling guilty that he enjoyed the performances when it brings on that much damage. He didn't think such beautiful, effortless movements could do long-term damage. The poor thing will start digging into things to learn about the human body and how to mitigate injuries and fall into a weird spiral of "what?! No... What?!"

(It's Skyfire that needs to drag him out that funk since xenobiology on Cybertron was a massive field with so many specialties without going into different species.)

Ratchet, on the other hand, isn't surprised. He's ancient compared to a lot of the crew. He definitely remembers when professional dancers on Cybertron had to have their latches sanded or permanently removed, so it wouldn't catch the costumes or hurt their partners when their bare frames glided together. Luckily, the tech improved, but there are still common injuries like pulls and stains and breaks, especially without proper warm ups or among those without the trained flexibility on an intense choreography or heavy costumes. They still have long term-health impacts as well.

Professional dancers from Cybertron have issues with hyperflexiblity since armature has a key role in protecting joints and ligaments and cables from overusing and overextending. Very set or old professionals have a knack in popping back their parts without a grimace. A must know trick, especially during a performance. The younger ones have masks during the shows until they can master that necessity because crowds don't want to see dancers in pain. Unless it's part of the script. It can get to the point where it severely impacts their own lines (fuel, coolant, lubricant) and need either invasive corrective surgery or retirement.

They also have issues with their sensory perception. Quite a few feel too contained or claustrophobic with proper plating to the point that they're basically in root-mode all the time, so many high-end tailors leverage that. Or use really specialized plating that tricks the outside eye that it's thick when it really isn't.

Another common injury is protoform burn, especially among the dancers that do aerial performances with rigs since the straps are set deep into their base, and they're in direct line of fire of special effects. This can lead to deformations and scarring, which messes with their sensation. Many dancers see this as a matter of pride in their craft and take to highlighting their scars as a calling card or a showing at performances.

Similar to the gladiators' war paints, dancers would utilize specialized paints upon themselves to create a variety of effects: trailing mirages, bold streaks, color shifts, gradients, fog trails, and so on. Some power couples and cohorts among them coordinate their own scarring and preferred effects to create memorizing and stunning visual masterpieces.

Those of the Artisanal Caste were/are very intimate between the fine line of passion and pain.

[brain-bumbler]

hey. hey. you know that one au you did? where dion got a job in the mailroom? think about it again. think about its wonder and greatness. and gimme deets 🤲

oh that is my greatest work ever. i will forever have so much to say about it.

Dion starts out not enjoying the job or looking forward to it, just doing it since his mom won't stop talking about how proud she is of Raz and Frazie, and he needs something to do to fill the hours. Plus a paycheck is nice.

But despite his reservations, the minute Raz walks into the mailroom Dion has his feet up on the table smirking like his swivel chair is a throne. Big brother instinct to show no weakness.

Raz is torn because this is sort of his brother making an effort to ger more involved in psychic stuff. He genuinely wants Dion to do better and learn to cope with the changes in their family.

But also, he's ten. The Psychonauts is HIS thing in his head. He wants Frazie to join him because she was his secret psychic buddy that he probably trauma bonded with and he wants to heal the divide between them. I think it'd be normal for him to not be 100% stoked about it. Like oh great, maybe the mailroom is where evil villains are made and Dion's gonna decide to turn to the dark side.

At first Dion is jumpy and standoffish with people. But luckily he unlocks the pure dopamine of sorting objects for his repressed adhd-autism brain. He completely zones out during his shift and then snaps back an hour after closing time when the packages stop coming. Holy shit stacking boxes of different sizes into cubes like tetris and then sorting them based on color, he's not showing it but his brain is just enjoying it So Damn Much.

He gets so hyperfocused that he forgets to slack off and act superior and grumpy. He clears out the blacklog in 3 days and then designs a new sorting system. It needs revisions but that just means more stacking and sorting fuck yeah!

Gisu was expecting him to skip work to come see her but he's in the ZONE and its hard to break him away from it. But after awhile it is easier to leave because he needs variety in his day, which makes flipping across the Motherlobe and finding new ways to deliver mail great.

He makes up challenges for himself. Can he sneak packages to people from the vents like a spy, something he'd never admit to thinking was cool? Can he do deliveries while playing "the ground is lava" in his head?

Also he keeps writing letters to Gisu that have to be "hand delivered" so they can meet up. Hollis lets it slip since he solved their budget crisis by discovering Nick was stealing money, and Dion is insanely effective at his work. If only she could get him to wear anything business casual.

Dion's biggest bad habit is skipping meals. He doesn't like eating in the Noodle Bowl without someone he knows, it makes him nervous. So if he doesn't bring lunch he ends up skipping it, or even if he dues he just throws it away without telling anyone.

He makes the mailroom the most popular part of the Motherlobe tour by putting on an acrobatics performance that enthralls all the visitors. Maybe he slips out some pamphlets for the Aquato circus, it never hurts to advertise!

Having the alone time and investing in something not related to his family is really good for his personal mental health and boundaries.

[anchalgrav]

Elevate Your Home's Spiritual Aura with the Divine Narmadeshwar Shivling for home: Discover Authentic Narmadeshwar Lingam at Affordable Prices

In the realm of spiritual artifacts, the Narmadeshwar Shivling holds a place of unparalleled reverence and significance. Originating from the sacred Narmada River, this divine symbol of Lord Shiva is not just a representation of faith but also a harbinger of peace, prosperity, and positive energy. If you are looking to enhance the spiritual ambiance of your home, incorporating an authentic Narmadeshwar Shivling can be a transformative experience.

The Sacred Origin of Narmadeshwar Shivling

The Narmadeshwar Shivling, also known as Narmada Lingam, is formed naturally in the Narmada River, one of the seven holy rivers of India. The river's flow over centuries has shaped these Shivlings, imbuing them with a unique energy that is believed to be directly connected to Lord Shiva. This natural formation process is what sets Narmadeshwar Shivlings apart from other man-made Shivlings, making them exceptionally powerful and spiritually potent.

Why Choose a Narmadeshwar Shivling for Home?

Spiritual Upliftment: The presence of a Narmadeshwar Shivling in your home can significantly elevate your spiritual practices. It serves as a constant reminder of the divine, fostering a deeper connection with Lord Shiva and enhancing your meditation and worship routines.

Positive Energy: The unique vibrations of the Narmadeshwar Shivling are known to purify the surrounding environment. It helps in dissipating negative energies and replacing them with positive, healing vibrations. This makes your home a sanctuary of peace and tranquillity.

Cultural Significance: Owning a Narmadeshwar Shivling connects you with the rich cultural and spiritual heritage of India. It is a symbol of timeless devotion and a testament to the enduring legacy of Hindu traditions.

Health Benefits: Beyond spiritual benefits, many believe that the positive energy emitted by the Narmadeshwar Shivling can improve physical and mental health. It can help reduce stress, promote emotional balance, and enhance overall well-being.

Enhanced Meditation: Meditating near a Narmadeshwar Shivling can deepen your practice. The calming energy helps in achieving a state of inner peace and concentration, making your meditation more effective and fulfilling.  

Finding the Right Narmadeshwar Shivling

When looking to purchase a Narmadeshwar Shivling, it's important to ensure its authenticity. Here are some tips to guide you:

Source Verification: Ensure that the Shivling is sourced from the Narmada River. Genuine sellers often provide certification or a detailed description of the origin.

Quality and Craftsmanship: Authentic Narmadeshwar Shivlings are known for their smooth, naturally polished surface. Each piece is unique, with variations in color and patterns, reflecting its natural formation.

Size and Weight: Narmadeshwar Shivlings come in various sizes. For home use, a 2-foot Shivling is ideal as it is manageable yet substantial enough to make a significant spiritual impact.

2 Feet Narmadeshwar Shivling Prices and Genuine Quality

While the spiritual value of a Narmadeshwar Shivling is immeasurable, finding one at an affordable price is important for many devotees. Prices can vary based on size, quality, and craftsmanship. It is advisable to compare offerings from reputable sources to ensure you get the best value without compromising on authenticity.

Compare Vendors: Look at different vendors and compare prices. Ensure you are not overpaying for a piece by understanding the general market price.

Check Reviews: Reviews and testimonials from other buyers can give insights into the authenticity and quality of the Shivlings being sold.

Ask for Certification: Reputable sellers often provide certificates of authenticity that guarantee the Shivling’s origin and quality.

Caring for Your Narmadeshwar Shivling

Once you have brought a Narmadeshwar Shivling into your home, proper care is essential to maintain its sanctity and energy.

Regular Cleaning: Clean the Shivling regularly with water and a soft cloth to keep it free from dust and impurities. Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive materials.

Abhishekam (Holy Bath): Perform regular abhishekam with milk, honey, yogurt, and water to keep the Shivling spiritually energized.

Offerings: Offer fresh flowers, fruits, and leaves (especially bilva leaves) to the Shivling as a mark of devotion and respect.

Prayers and Chanting: Recite mantras and prayers dedicated to Lord Shiva to invoke divine blessings and maintain a strong spiritual connection.

Conclusion

Integrating a Narmadeshwar Shivling into your home is a powerful way to enhance your spiritual journey and create a space filled with divine energy. As you embark on this sacred addition, remember to seek out authentic pieces that resonate with your spiritual aspirations and fit harmoniously within your home. The divine presence of Lord Shiva encapsulated in the Narmadeshwar Shivling, will undoubtedly bring peace, positivity, and profound spiritual growth into your life.

Embrace the divine and let the Narmadeshwar Shivling elevate your home's spiritual aura, creating a sanctuary of serenity and sacredness. Discover the authentic Narmadeshwar Lingam at affordable prices and invite the divine blessings of Lord Shiva into your abode.

[nina208-journey-to-consistency]

oppenheimer thoughts (spoilers!)

initial thoughts (left the theater 2 hrs ago, these are v rough impressions):

- holy fuck that was good

- the scientists i studied are all here! go quantum mechanics :)

- the subtle acting all throughout the movie was tremendous

- it is such a beautifully shot film, love the color scheme decisions

- i wish some of the characters (the women) had more to do almost (it seems as if a lot of characters didn’t get a lot of dialogue and we don’t know much about them.)

- cillian murphy. that’s it, cillian murphy (amazing)

- i didn’t really feel like there was a specific heart to this movie, but more a weight and a ponderous thoughtfulness that is presented to the viewer due to the gravity of the situation

- i loved how it didn’t really paint oppenheimer as a “great man”. walking out of the theater it seemed like the movie was more about the phrase “actions have consequences” and how diff people lived with the impact of that

- the sound design and score of this movie is one of my favorite things

- i also like that it humanized science, almost. like, giant decisions were being undertaken by people who, at the end of the day, were uncertain about stuff but had to make decisions anyway. and highlighted the difference and common ground between politics and science (and how both can really affect people’s lives). as a scientist myself it made me think more about the actual impact of my work and the value of doing your due diligence (triple checking stuff, thinking about who you will serve, and what potential ripple effects there are) 

(but also that the decision had a catastrophic human toll. throughout this entire movie i couldn’t forget the fact that so many people’s lives and health (EVEN TODAY) are so horribly impacted by the atomic bomb. the movie seemed like it wanted to make the viewer confront that too which was good. but truly not enough. they just glossed over how los alamos was created as well as the impact in japan)

- it made me feel like i was at the trinity test site (the silence right when i didn’t expect it and the insane visuals made my jaw drop. then the reverberations i knew were coming still made me jump)

this is a movie i need to watch again and discuss before adding more detailed thoughts. had an incredible time :)

[alpimerealmsystem]

Mkay so help me out please

SO, here's a list of all the poetry I need to write AND all of the otherkin/alterhuman/therianthropy/non-human/ so many others/ stuffs I need to write PUT THIS SHIT IN MY ASK BOX PLEASE. TELL ME WHAT Y'ALL WANT ME TO WRITE ABOUT. Anything that y'all want me to write I'll get around to it quicker, but because I don't wanna ask more people about what they wanna see, I need others to motivate me to write, does that make sense? Basically seeing someone request shit mentally encourages me to write about that stuff. SO enjoy the lengthy list (I will do 3, one for poetry, one for werewolf stories cause why not, and one for non-human rants I can do)

First list, poetry:

Busy calming down

Wasting time (what I'm doing rn)

Something that makes you feel unreal (and tell me what makes you feel unreal if you request this)

Broken toys (but compared to humanity)

Sickness

Being able to put yourself first

Butterfly effect

Misunderstood

The Nimona book/movie

Nothing left anymore

Food magic

Demons

Going crazy

Out of originality

Too much of life

Losing a loved one

Silence

Rebirth

Love at first sight

Shouldn't have let someone in

Home

Small things that bring you joy (and tell me what does if you request it)

Fire

Aftermath

War

Controlling Fate

Any color (if you request it's your choice)

Full moon

Stranded on an island

Religion

Overcrowded

We always want what we don't have

Habits develop into character

Snow white

Ariel

AND THATS JUST SOME OF MY POETRY IDEAS (holy shit I'm going crazy)

Next list: The stuff people want to see written about non-humanity more (I am using this as an umbrella term)

We're normal people y'all

We have feelings

The day to day life of being alterhuman

Alterhumans complaining about humans ruining everything

Bugkin

Primatekin

Non-humanity being influenced by mental health

Species dysphoria

Kintype loss

People who are alterhuman due to zoanthropy or plurality

Ockin

Non-otherkin alterhuman Identities

Hearthome and otherlink

It's not a mental illness

Objectkin

Psychological kin experiences and about psychological otherkin

Transspeciess

Otherhearted representation stuffs

Fiction folk

Other vague representation

Multiple studies have come to the conclusion being non-human requires accommodations not fixing

Fictionkin representation

Otherkin being "disrespectful" with their identities

Respecting non-humans

The history of otherkinity

There's an interview I need to write up and post- if anyone wants to see that right away (it's with someone who has two spirits in one body)

The feral side of being non-human and the struggles that come with it

Relationship between neurodivergance and otherkinity

Recipes for alterhumans and their kintypes

The general pros and cons to being nonhuman

Otherkin not getting bullied (stories)

Not being comfortable in your own body

And that was a portion of the list I have for that :') NOW last list I promise. This one is for so many different werewolf stories (that I haven't gotten around to, I'm a failure, ik)

A werewolf ripping clothes they just bought due to transforming

A werewolf having to wear certain clothing to hide body parts when they're partially transformed (ex, a beanie for hiding ears, gloves for claws, etc)

A werewolf forgetting it was full moon

A werewolf growling at a dog cause it growled at the werewolf (also same thing for howling?)

A werewolf having to deal with stupid jokes

A werewolf having to explain claw marks around the house aren't from a pet to their landlord

A werewolf having to resist buying pounds of meat since they can't afford it

A werewolf doing dog stuff and not realizing it

a werewolf losing weight due to turning on the full moon

A werewolf not realizing their strength and accidentally hurting people

Werewolves with disabilities

These are all just portions of lists I have, anyways REQUEST ME STUFF FROM THEM. I will not shove it in my queue, it'll get posted as bonus content and also I will do anything outside of these lists to. I will write any short stories just nothing including nsfw stuffs or heavy gore (although I'm fine with some) and yeah. Please request because it will give me more motivation

[sofiadragon]

for Va'pak; Uzhau,

how did you get the idea for it? like it's so well thought out, in the writing style, and it feels so intelligently written, and you come out with an update pretty quick, for a fic like this. i just wanna know, like, what do you think when you're writing? oh yeah and it's a bloody fantastic fic btw

Two ideas started this fanfic:

Vulcans require mental bonds. Being without them is like sensory deprivation. Any surviving orphans would be at massively high risk for self harm or other mental health issues.

Spock and Jim in Iowa. (All elaboration redacted for spoilers.)

I wrote chapter 5 first. It built from there. My fix-it for the odd characterization choices in ST09 with Jim being a felon got added. The Vran from my other story gets a cameo. I like worldbuilding so mostly my stories build up either from "How do I explain [canon thing] and how does that explanation effect other stuff?" Example: Season 1 of TOS says Vulcan has very little free sodium salt, with what a human would consider "freshwater" oceans even if the evaporation rate would make it very mineral rich/hard water. The fannon about Vulcan food being bland to humans would therefore be because there is no salt in the seasoning, meanwhile Vulcans think human food is way too salty! Both species agree on sweets, with strawberries and cream on toast with nuts being a canon Vulcan breakfast served family style!

The other way I worldbuild is more "out of whole cloth, but color-matched to canon." My Jotenheim story is mostly this. I look at the overall framing and details and extrapolate, then build on that extrapolation until I have a complete living culture. Spock has a statue of a death god in a little meditation area of his room. Even as XO, the cabin space on a ship is at a premium. He loses almost all his storage space in the living area to have this instead. It is no great leap to say it is wildly important to him that he have this connection to his culture and religion. That alter means that much to him. Oh, he's wild, out of pocket, sassy, and indulgent at times, but he says his prayers and observes the holy days like a good boy when he's done. At least for his family, we can be sure this is a huge part of their lives... but what is that religion like? What does it say? What can I reverse engineer from canon and what can I make up to fill the voids? Then: how does that impact the story.

As for update speed and quality? Behold:

Never post the last thing you have written unless it is the end. Always have at least one more drafted and some kind of outline or plan before publishing fanfic. I use Scrivener so I have a place for a synopsis for each of these "pages" and you know what? Some of them move. I've taken 5k words and shuffled them like a deck of cards in some of my drafts because after writing it all I realized the story would work better otherwise than how it was.

My first drafts are quite rough, messy grammar and dialog that perfectly fits the "he wouldn't say that" meme.

I just keep on working it until it works out. I've been writing fanfiction since the late 1990's, and I do my best not to rush it.

[fe14festivalofbondstranslations]

Hoshidan Festival: Mozu and Ophelia Parent-Child Conversation

Well, it’s nice to post again after a few years! I’m still grappling with the effects of an intense form of chronic fatigue and numerous other problems that have wrecked my health and made me a complete homebound invalid since I got Covid-19 back in 2020, but over the last year or so I think I have learned to cope with my limits a little better. In the last year and a half I’ve been dabbling into writing fanfiction again, and decided it was time to try to tackle translation! Just....it now takes me a week or more what I used to be able to do in a single day, but hey, that’s better than simply doing nothing, right?

Mozu’s accent is an important aspect of this conversation, which is a bit of a problem because her accent in the English version doesn’t vary much from everyone else. I tried to get that across as best I could. In the Japanese version, Mozu speaks with a Kansai accent, which is used in much the same way as a Southern US accent might be used here in North America. 

Ophelia: “Hey, Mother. There’s something I’ve always wanted to talk with you about.”

Mozu: “You wanna talk with me? C’mon, out with it.”

Ophelia: “People generally say that I take after Father, don’t they? But I would really like to manifest more of your blood, not just his.”

Mozu: “What’s this? What’re you talking about?”

Ophelia: “Well, as an example, when I’m about to let loose with an impressive attack, I will usually preface it by shouting:‘Awakening Holy!’ But that makes me just like Father, doesn’t it? And ‘My maiden heart flutters!’ and ‘I am Ophelia Dusk!’... All of those are said in a style that resembles Father’s.”

Mozu: “Yeah. That’s true. But… The way I talk is really plain. Isn’t it better to use a more colorful, showy style like Odin’s?”

Ophelia: “No! This has nothing to do with being showy or plain. It’s just that, I’m not only Father’s daughter, I am also your daughter, Mother!”

Mozu: “…… You’ve grown into a really kind kid.”

Ophelia: “Huh?”

Mozu: “No matter how you look at it, you’ve mostly taken after Odin. But are you tryin’ to say that you were worried that’s not fair to me?”

Ophelia: “That’s not really…”

Mozu: “It’s all right. Thank you. I don’t know if I could exactly call this a reward, but once we get rid of these bandits, why don’t we enjoy the festival together?”

Ophelia: “Oh! That’d be great!” (T/N: She speaks with an unmistakable accent here. Mozu speaks with a Kansai accent, which is often used for people from farming or rural areas, much as a Southern US accent might be used in American English. Mozu doesn’t really manifest an accent in the English version, but I imagine Ophelia saying this with a sudden, syrupy Southern US accent.“Thaddud be guh-reat!”)

Mozu: “Hm? ‘That’d’?”

Ophelia: “…Ah.”

Mozu: “That’s the first time I’ve heard you talk like that. It really warms my heart to hear that.”

Ophelia: “Well, if that makes you happy… The next time I am locked in combat, I shall shout: ‘Awakenin’ Holy!’ and ‘Mah maiden heart flutters’!”

Mozu: “…No, I think it’s better if you don’t do that?”

[maewing]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN HOLY SHIT

I got the perfect halloween tame, I'm still not over it. After getting my ass kicked all day (cant find a doedic + found a 174 anky that got fucking annihilated during taming so only ended up with like 50% effectiveness)

I fully accidentally ran into a 180 rex. My exact reaction was "fuck" because I did not want to tame one yet. I do not have a finished base, I don't even have anything to cave with, I don't even have a longneck, I am not ready for this. Also, it was surrounded by Allos and another rex.

But I went FUCK IT cause i couldnt NOT tame a 180 especially when it spawned right next to my base and got some shit for a trap together and what ended up happening was the entire universe got together to get me this rex

The rex moved to the beach area instead of further inland toward mountain area so there was a lot less chance for a predator to come by while I was shooting it

Of all the things surrounding it when I first saw it, there was just 1 allo and the other rex left

The other rex and it completely fucking ignored me while I was trying to build a trap. It went so far that I just built dino gates around the rex when it ran into a tree. It didnt even notice me.

I have no fucking clue where the other rex went while I was trapping it. I havent seen it since. Everyone just...left me alone?

I have an ascendant crossbow from a drop that does REALLY good damage and it reduced the amount of tranqs I needed to fire drastically. The drops are so much better in this version. I think they might even be a bit overtuned? But for the love of god dont change them back WC theyre also more annoying to get

It got trapped easy. It went down easy. It's got halloween colors. It came out with a whopping 55 health stat. I am so happy

[mani-healthy-spices]

Health Benefits of Spices and Medicinal Herbs for Weight Loss and Immune Boosting

In our quest for vibrant health and wellness, nature has bestowed upon us a treasure trove of spices and medicinal herbs that offer a multitude of benefits. At ManiHealthy Choice, we believe in harnessing the power of these natural ingredients to optimize our well-being. Join us on a journey to explore the remarkable health benefits of spices, medicinal herbs, and their role in weight loss and immune-boosting.

Health Benefits of Spices:

Spices are not just mere flavor enhancers; they possess an array of health benefits. Turmeric, known for its vibrant yellow color and active compound curcumin, is renowned for its anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties. Cinnamon aids in regulating blood sugar levels and may contribute to weight management. Cumin aids digestion and may boost metabolism. Incorporating these spices into your diet can elevate your health to new heights.

Medicinal Herbs for Optimal Wellness:

Medicinal herbs have been used for centuries to promote overall well-being. From the calming effects of chamomile to the immune-boosting properties of echinacea, these herbs offer a natural approach to health. Holy basil, also known as tulsi, is revered for its adaptogenic properties, which help the body adapt to stress. Moringa, a nutrient-dense herb, is packed with vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants that support immune function. Embrace the power of medicinal herbs and unlock their potential for optimal wellness.

Spices for Weight Loss:

Struggling to shed those extra pounds? Look no further than spices to spice up your weight loss journey. Cayenne pepper contains capsaicin, a compound that may boost metabolism and promote fat burning. Ginger aids in digestion and can help suppress appetite. Black pepper contains piperine, which may interfere with fat cell formation. Adding these spices to your meals not only adds flavor but also supports your weight loss goals.

Immune-Boosting Herbs:

In today's world, a robust immune system is of utmost importance. Thankfully, nature provides us with immune-boosting herbs that can fortify our defenses. Echinacea is renowned for its ability to enhance immune function and reduce the severity and duration of cold symptoms. Astragalus root stimulates the immune system and may help prevent respiratory infections. Incorporating these herbs into your daily routine can strengthen your immune system and help you stay healthy.

At ManiHealthy Choice, we strive to bring you the finest selection of spices and medicinal herbs. Our commitment to quality ensures that you receive the maximum benefits from these natural wonders. Explore our range of products and embark on a journey towards a healthier, more vibrant life. Let nature's bounty be your ally in achieving optimal well-being.

[pillaicentermindscience]

Yantras – A Lost Science

Yantras are integral to astrology. 'Yan' means ‘to control’, ‘curb’ or ‘influence’. 'Tra’ means ‘tool’. Yantras are tools or diagrams that illustrate a sacred geometrical arrangement in a symmetrical design. Supposedly, it emits positive energies, curbs negative energies, and also releases spiritual vibrations.

 The Devi Bhagawatam says, 'Archabhave Tatha Yantram'. This means that the Yantra symbolizes divine power, and so people worship it as a deity. Yantras are three-dimensional in nature. But they are two-dimensional when drawn.

 The complex geometrical arrangement is rich in meaning. For instance, a Swastika denotes prosperity, fortune, and spirituality, and a lotus flower petal symbolizes 'vritti' or the psychic quality of a chakra. An upward triangle of shatkona represents masculinity (Shiva) and action. A downward triangle represents Shakti and introversion.

 Yantras have been in use since 3300 B.C. They were found among the Harappan ruins. There are temples in south India that are in the shape of Yantras. Yantras are often prescribed as astrological remedies for various planetary afflictions.

 Yantras have associations with certain gods, planets, etc., and people use them to gain some specific benefits. It is achieved through meditation or by installing it at a particular place.

 Uses of Yantras

 In a horoscope, planets occupy different houses, which represent the different aspects of life, like health, wealth, education, career, love life, etc. Some planets have positive effects, while others have negative effects. Some alter their nature as per the house they occupy. The constant movement of the planets in the houses of the birth chart can affect one in a good or bad manner. Astrologers prescribe Yantras to pacify malefic planets and reduce their adverse effects on one’s life.

 People use Yantras during a special Pooja to attract positivity. They are also used for regular worship. The Yantras in temples are often energized with Mantras which are written on them. Yantras used to manifest desires are made of special materials like rice paste, flowers, ashes, etc.

 Once a Yantra is energized, it acquires life. To make it work better, one should chant Mantras relating to the Yantra daily. Respect it, keep it in a clean place, and offer ghee lamps, flowers, fruits, etc. But it also needs your unalloyed faith and devotion. An energized Yantra is like a car, while meditation is like fuel. Both are necessary to reach your goal. Also, get the yantras re-energized once a year, at least, during occasions like Diwali, Holi, Navratri, or other auspicious times.

 Copper, Silver, Gold, Bhojpatra, Panchdhatu, and Ashtadhatu are more auspicious for making Yantras. Some Gurus make customized yantras for their followers on cloth, which also have a good effect.

 Some Dos and Don’ts Regarding Yantras

 Don’t touch the Yantra with dirty hands. Do not let outsiders touch the Yantra. Women should keep their distance from the Yantra or remove them (if worn) during their menstrual period. Do not drink liquor or eat non-vegetarian food. Do not make love while wearing the Yantra. Keep the Yantra in the Pooja room or a clean place. Don't keep the Yantra in the bedroom. Do not take it into the toilet.

 Significance of Yantras

 Yantras can enhance the intensity of our prayers by helping us focus on them. It helps to achieve resonance and boost the flow of energy and vibration. It attracts positive energy and eliminates negative energy. Yantras can reduce mental clutter.

 Structure of Yantras

 Yantras come in many shapes – circle, triangle, hexagon, octagon, or lotus petals. It may be drawn on paper or engraved on metal. Specific colors are used to make Yantras. The colors represent specific ideas or purposes for which the Yantra will be used. It helps one to connect with the conscious. The center point of the Yantra is the Bindu which represents the main deity associated with it.

 Types of Yantras

 Many types of Yantras are available, both offline and online. They are customized for specific needs, like success in career, prosperity, good health, etc. One should always see a good astrologer to find out which Yantra you need based on the planetary positions in your birth chart.

 The most popular Yantras are as follows:

 Shree Yantra to boost one’s name, fame, and personality.

 Kuber Yantra to boost one’s wealth.

 Ganesha Yantra to accomplish life goals and attract luck.

 Navagraha Yantra to pacify all the 9 planets and enjoy a smooth life.

 Dhanvantri Yantra for good health and relief from ailments.

 Pratyangira Yantra and Sudarshan Yantra for protection from evil spells, black magic, etc.

 Benefits of Yantras

 It can reduce the adverse effects of malefic planets.

 It attracts good luck, success, and prosperity.

 It spreads positive energy.

 It can bring profits in business.

 It protects one from black magic, evil spells, witchcraft, etc.

 It creates inner harmony and peace.

 It gives us better focus in life.

 It can rectify Vastu Dosha.

 It boosts the positive effects of the Lagna (Ascendant). Surya Yantra, for example, can intensify the Sun’s energy in your birth chart and zodiac.

[katyspersonal]

Some recent 🅱️loodborne ideas notes reflecting my internal creative workings:

1) I was drawing Yurie with dark hair and only later learned her data has blonde hair, plus her name is correctly translated as Julie ( x ), so that kept bothering me... But honestly? Despite blonde color, she is bald, so like... What if I call it that she IS blonde but got early balding (like Patches xd), but was self-conscious and wearing a wig that just happens to be dark. I already was drawing her with different hairstyle every time as a gag, so like... This honestly wrote itself and makes too much sense ;-; gfjhjvhj

2) I decided I will actually split Caryll into two characters - one is this very smart scholar guy that created the alphabet for sounds of Great Ones, and another is the witch from Hemwick that invented the tool that burns runes in the mind and thus was honored by Old Hunters as statue in workshop and explored dungeons! They worked together as the witch got surgery to put literal eyes on her brain to listen to more sounds - while Caryll was writing them down and making sense of them! The fact that Hunter can learn a rune by killing someone or standing next to Adeline during her insight or something tells me being close to who perceives the sound could make you hear (see?) it too! I think even though Caryll is also a mistranslation and character's name is Karel (explicitly male name), giving him the Caryll works better as I opt out for localized names too. But I could name the witch Carolee - a variant of name Caryll (not name Karel!) that still avoids the confusion. Funny enough - 'runesmith' is ALSO a mistranslation, as Karel is actually 'transcriptor' in Japanese original. But runesmith fits her better, meanwhile transcriptor fits him better! Yeah, what else can I say except...

3) Gratia note! In real world, gigantism only effects males, and in Bloodborne lore we also notice that Pthumerians have gigantic variants... only found within male enemies. I also already safely assumed pthumerians and humans can mix (like vilebloods and BB Patches are easily mixed species), so this 'gene' might persist here too. Okay lets smoke harder - within the canon, particularly RED type of ginger hair is only shown in Gratia and females of Cainhurst, and if Lost Giant Children (known as 'abandoned at birth' in internal files) having whiplash scars on their backs means anything - this 'gene' could be considered a birth defect back I'm pthumerians and now vilebloods too. Gratia might be not just soulsbornishly tall - she might be 'giant'! Very strong and hulking but dimwitted (legit word used in Japanese). So basically, being born a woman with this anomaly is a miracle comparable with male calico cats (that are technically intersexual, and alas can't breed). So uh... Intersexual Gratia, anyone? Alas, most likely orphaned by Cainhurst.

4) I think I smoked THE strangest idea for Amelia's second parent and that came from NOwhere o_o But I mentioned that I think the white church woman at Surgery Altar was her mother? Okay like... I can't quite explain it, it wrote itself, but father could be Logarius. It just came to me on its own without any logical chain, by intuition, but after I looked at how I designed Amelia it made sense and I HATE it gdjjgjhh Vasylissa (the white church hunter lady) basically more or less used him specifically to get pregnant, as he appeared 'not TOO repulsive' in her eyes back then as just an intriguing local Evil!Ludwig rambling weird shit and being brutal hunter, nor she really wanted/planned to tie her life with a man in familial way. Raising the child with a (future) wife, on the other hand.... He was good for ensuring lack of lasting emotional attachment on his side as well, her concern was 'very good health for the baby' at most - she certainly didn't plan to die early and leave Amelia orphaned, though... Also for basically everyone else father is not known - nobody would believe Vasylissa as 'stop trying to dirty a HOLY man's name, he is ABOVE things like sex! >:(' .Granted, she didn't really want to talk about THAT herself either.

5) Izzy I wrote as a female character originally, much later learning she has male name originally too (variant of George basically). I still haven't decided whether to just change the character to be a feminine man, to have an intersexual parents named a male name thinking she was a boy for not having much medical knowledge, or to roll with 'well mom/dad wanted a boy and thus raised me as one'. I will see which one of the three works better as time goes by, but the latter probably flows the best - let's me not change much, and gives cathartic value to her 'at last' using silly ribbons and flowers and other feminine things like she was denied, even if she is an adult and looks like a brute from violent past and wrestling too many bears with her bare hands. XD Last option just... explains my design of her that was created intuitively - a strong, big, scarred woman but with even childish feminine accessories! Looks like interesting psychological situation - and that design came randomly! In either case after beasthood insight arc the character uses he and she interchangeably! But bottom line, I decided against the option of using the fake name that stuck, it just feels better if her name is her name! Plus Patches already grabbed the 'using a nickname that stuck' card. Nobody calls their child PATCHES fhhhghnkg

[cellobotomy]

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A comic by T Kingfisher, referred to from here out as TK. Each panel's background is a different color of alcohol-ink pattern.

Panel 1. The Saga of Bob: How I Got Boob Cancer And All I Got Was This Lousy Tumor

TK Speech Bubble: Must we?

Text Box: So I had a breast lump. But I have tons of lumps. This one felt like all the others, except it was sore.

TK: Dammit, I bet I’m gonna have to get that drained.

Text Box: I ignored it for a month but it didn’t go away.

Big Text Interject: SHOCKING!

TK: Don’t you start.

Panel 2. Text Box: Finally I had some spare executive function and made an appointment to see my doctor. She was impressed by its size.

GP: Holy Crap!

TK: I know, right?

GP: Two and a half centimeters. Let’s get you a mammogram.

TK: You can’t just pop it now?

GP: No, you need a specialist for that.

TK: (emphasis) Nuts.

Big Text: Three Weeks Later…

Panel 3. Background sounds: Whirrrr, Thunk Thunk Thunk Thunk.

Tech: Now take a deep breath… and hold it…

TK: Hhhnngh!

Tech: …And breathe.

TK: Hey what are these wormy-lookin’ things?

Tech: Those are lymph nodes.

TK: Do they all look like worms?

Tech: I can discuss anatomy, but that’s all.

TK: So I should Google “Do lymph nodes look like worms?”

Tech: Thaaaat might send you down some rabbit holes…

Panel 4. Big Text: Then it was Ultrasound Time.

TK: But there’s lots of things that are dense with blood vessels, right?

Tech: Oh, sure.

TK: I’m not worried. If it was a tumor that size, it’d be, like, doing something by now.

Tech: …Mmm.

Big Text: “We Need A Biopsy.”

Panel 5. Background sounds: Ka-chunk! Ka-chunk! (repeats)

Text Box: For the biopsy, they numbed up my boob, then used what sounded like a staple gun on it. (emphasis) Fifteen times.

MD: Looks like three centimeters.

TK: I’m not worried.

MD: Mmmm.

Big Text: “Someone will call you back in two business days.”

TK: It’s fine. (emphasis) I’m not worried. Also my boob bruised like cheap tie-dye.

Panel 6. Big Text: Two Business Days Later…

Text Box: I drove to the lake so that I could pretend I wasn’t watching my phone more effectively.

TK: Man, I’m gonna feel so silly for worrying when it turns out to be nothing. Just SO silly.

Sound effect: Ring-ring

TK: Hello! Hi! Yes! Speaking! Uh-huh. (pause) …Oh.

Panel 7. Text Boxes: The nice woman on the phone assured me that breast cancer was extremely treatable and that most people got a “Happy Ending.” I did not make the joke that I desperately wanted to make, but it was a near thing. 

We made an appointment to meet the cancer surgeon five days later. She told me not to google “Triple Negative” breast cancer because I’d only scare myself. I promised I wouldn’t.

I lied, obviously.

First, though, I just sat in my truck by the lake and (big text) Had Cancer.

Apparently I’d had it all along.

TK: Well, Fuck.

Panel 8. Text Box: I went home and cried on my husband.

Mr. TK: Oh Shit. Oh Shit-

Background sounds: <Gross Sobbing Sounds>

Mr. TK: We’ll get through this. I promise.

TK: *sniff* I know we will, but I’m too busy to have cancer!

Big Text: I had deadlines, dammit! Seriously, if the tumor had just scheduled ahead, I could maybe have worked it in sometime in 2025.

Panel 9. Big Text: Why me?

Big Text: …No. I had health insurance and savings and people who loved me. Better me than someone who didn’t have that. 

Big Text: Besides, I was happy and successful, and I’d always known sooner or later the universe would notice.

Panel 10. Big Text: It was a long five days.

Text Box: I Googled too many things. I told people. I cancelled travel. I cried occasionally.

Big Text: Also I named my tumor Bob.

TK: Fuck you, Bob.

Text Box: The weirdest thing was that I would go about my life and get groceries and watch movies and in the back of my head, all the time, a little voice kept saying “You have cancer. You have cancer.” It was like having a song stuck in your head, except, y’know, with (emphasis) Crushing Existential Dread.

TK: Die in a fire, Bob.

Mr. TK: Also not a fan, Bob.

END IMAGE DESCRIPTION]

Warning: Long post about something very near my heart.

About three inches from it, give or take.

Tumblr, meet Cancer-Bob. (Bob, this is Tumblr. They’re lovely, but they’re gonna hate you.)

I got diagnosed with Bob about six weeks ago. (It’s fine, I’m not gonna die, I’m just gonna have a really shitty few months.) As is the way of my people, I started doing a comic about it. Except it’s not really a comic, because there’s only one picture in it, but it’s more a comic than it is anything else. A comic made entirely of words, I guess?

It’s mostly me screwing around with Typorama and word balloons and the alcohol ink tools in Procreate. I knew that if I had to draw hamsters or wombats, I’d never keep up. My energy levels are, uh, variable. But it’ll tell you the saga, or at least some of it, and I got really into making it, and I commit some spectacular atrocities with fonts.

(It’s ok to laugh, by the way. Some of it’s hilarious.)

(Also I’m very sorry, I can’t do alt text for all these. If someone wants to type them out, I will embrace you as a savior, but it’s just…a lot.)

This is only part one of rather a lot, but Tumblr has a 10 image limit from the app. I’ll put up more tomorrow. And I only just started chemo in real life, so there’ll be more. And then, if fate is kind, someday there won’t have to be.

I love you all, you know that?