#meditation in the marketplace

[pgoodnight]

The World is Where the Work Is - Osho

In the land of money, power, designer drugs like ecstasy and enlightened insurance, many of your sannyasins are now working, with a job, and earning their livelihood. Laughter, a sense of humor, and a deep love and gratitude towards you, keep us all connected with each other somehow. With your people in the world now and physically so far away, has your work with us taken on a new…

[paultakeuchi]

Découvre Paris sans a priori pour faire le clair dans ta tête… Les idées préconçues, les leçons apprises par cœur, les cartes postales chics qui te montrent le côté investi par les promoteurs pour séduire les touristes… La, on est sur la marketplace, à côté du marché le moins cher de Paris avec une foule le jeudi et le dimanche qui apprécie le choix et les prix… Mais c’est pas la seule place qui soit… Pense à30 secondes à l’impensable… Tu pourrais faire autrement ou pas ? #culture #marché #memes #marketplace #plateforme #decision #entrepreneure #commercant #artisan #autoentrepreneur #influenceuse #influencers #meditation #conscience #strategiedigitale #strategie #dietetique #artdevivre https://www.instagram.com/p/CpX39yooyHj/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[astra-ravana]

Liminal Spaces in Witchcraft

'A liminal space' refers to a place or time that is a period of transition between two phases. These are usually places where reality feels altered because you are neither here nor there.

The word "liminal" originates feom the Latin word, "limens", meaning threshold. These places often give off a sense of time standing still, a reality shift, or slipping in into a different dimension.

In magick and witchcraft these spaces are considered to be the boundary between our world and another, known as the 'In-Between'. These places are considered areas of great and powerful magick, since the veil is so thin there. As such, they are great spaces for divination, spirit work, ritual magick, hedge-riding or astral travel, and meditation. Liminal spaces are believed to be neutral/grey zones, undesignated and unclaimed, which makes them fantastic spots to make contact/work with entities like the Fae, elementals, the dead, spirits, djinn, demons and gods.

Examples of Liminal Spaces

• Crossroads

• Caves

• Rivers and creeks

• Shores and beaches

• Hallways, corridors, stairwells, landings

• Doorways and windows

• Graveyards, cemeteries, and burial mounds

• Fairs, festivals, and marketplaces

• Hedge rows

• Abandoned or empty places

• The edges of vallies, forests, and glades

• Swamps, bogs, and marshes

• During dawn/dusk, the afternoon and midnight

• Mirrors

[skarlitt]

About the "Keyboard Method"

I fundamentally do not believe that this 'keyboard messaging' thing works. I don't use Tiktok but- I've seen the videos. If you've had a positive or profound experience with it and did it respectfully: awesome! I'm glad you've learned something. But I can assure you, if your deity (or otherwise spirit) is quoting Tiktok trends, or making vulgar/suggestive comments towards you through your laptop, it's because it's not coming from them.

Firstly, I've been in witch/pagan circles for a while (7 years as of December). Any group ritual, meditation, or coven event I have attended have had firm rules about cell phones or headphones entering the sacred space- they were never allowed in the room we worked in because the technology itself (and its EMFs, radio waves, etc.) are known to fuck with energies. Spirits do not like your laptop nor want to use it to communicate. I'm sorry if I sound like I'm generalizing but in nearly all of my experiences, spirits and deities could care less about our technology. They have their own ways of communication, I strongly suggest you honour them and learn all you can about them.

If you want to speak with deities: get an actual divination medium (tarot, Ouija, scrying board, etc). FB Marketplace has plenty of used ones for cheap. Spend time actually developing your intuition. Learn which type of 'clair' you are and expand on it via meditation. and THEN utilize it to develop your relationship with your deity of choice. They will appreciate it FAR more than you attempting a vain little Tiktok trend with them.

If you want to attempt a writing method of divination and allow a spirit to use your actual physical being as a vessel for writing a message on the physical plane... you need a pen and paper for that. Also: that's an advanced form of magick you are trying to pull off. I don't mean it in a gatekeepy way; I say it's advanced because it's fucking hard to do. I've attempted it numerous times (starting like 3-4 years into my craft) and have gotten successful information exactly once. In my case, it required complete darkness, and for me to go into a deep meditative state. Don't expect to write actual words- you'll be interpreting shapes, lines, images...whatever the entity gives you. It's not as simple as hovering a necklace over your laptop and typing while you think about the version of Apollo in Epic the Musical or whatever.

TLDR: Ghosts and deities are not toys for you to test witchtok (or hell, witchblr/ paganblr) trends out on. Listen to THE SPIRIT, not the internet. Your relationship with your deity is what comes first, not the internet's commentary on them or how they speak with them. I implore you to tune out of this noise if you truly want a fulfilling spiritual journey.

[smilesatdawnmain]

For all the monkey children, what are some headcannons you have for them as siblings? Things like favorite sibling, rivalries, any 'middle child' syndrome, etc.

Im personally most curious about Qi Haoyu and Qi Bao as the oldest and youngest

Oh my GOSH I just want to gush about this cute little Monkey Family! To the point I was writing a lot. So I am going to do it in sections. This first part will be just about Haoyu to start, and then I'll post each sibling separately to highlight other connections. You'll still get a lot of good insight about all of them through this :D 

—-

Haoyu: 

Rivalries are non-existent. Perhaps because he is the oldest, he doesn’t feel this with any of his siblings. Though outsiders like to gossip and theorize that MK and him are rivals to be Wukong’s “true successor”, in truth, both never view it that way. Haoyu is tall, so his siblings often climb on him like a tree to see further away, or just to talk to him. Haoyu doesn’t smile often. Or show much emotion, a very stoic monkey. His Siblings know how to make him laugh. He has the most expectations on his back as the first born, often heavily compared to Wukong. Many try to gain favor from him due to this, and he struggles to tell the difference from honest intentions to dishonest ones. 

MK and Haoyu often train late into the night together, taking the training the most seriously out of all the siblings. Whatever MK doesn't understand from his training with his Baba and Dad, it is Haoyu that can often make it clear. When MK is stressed about their “Destiny” it is Haoyu who can assure his worries, being someone the world looks at in a similar fashion. While MK is nervous to reveal his worries to everyone else, because he doesn’t wish to worry them, he does confide in Haoyu and Xiaohua the most. 

Xiaohua and Haoyu both love to seek out new land. While Xiaohua is more in for the views and new people, he is eager to help Haoyu’s treasure hunting obsession, as Xiaohua also likes shiny things. It is thanks to Haoyu that his parents let him go on adventures even before he is an adult, so long as he doesn’t leave his big brother’s side. Both are similarly naive to marketplace “Deals”, but Xiaohua at least can tell when demons and celestias try to trick his big brother into “helping” them. Haoyu does hit anyone who calls Xiaohua “Little Flower”. 

You would often find Sying clinging to Haoyu’s back when they were younger as whenever she got upset, she would go to him and rant about her feelings. He was a good listener and continued to train even as she clung to his back. You will sometimes still see her do this. She goes to Haoyu for advice on relationships, and other issues. Helps Sying with her training as he is literally a wall. So she practices the swing of her fan by trying to move an immovable object- her brother. When discovering her laser eyes, she accidentally gave Haoyu a not so flattering haircut and singed his fur for a while. 

Haoyu knows of Savage’s secret girlfriend and keeps this knowledge to himself. Haoyu once left home to explore and was 3 days away before he realize Savage and Rumble had hid in the shadows below his feet. Not long after turning around, Wukong realizes what must have happened and met with Haoyu half way. There is a reason Rumble and Savage were born as they are but have never been told why by their parents. Haoyu knows the reason why, but has never told his parents he knows this knowledge. Haoyu like to play board games the most with Savage as his little brother makes him laugh the most. 

While Haoyu can speak some words and is not completely deaf, he often only speaks to Rumble through sign language. These two often like to meditate together in complete silence, enjoying the peace. If Haoyu were to admit he has a favorite, it would be a heavy tie between Rumble and Savage, as these two tend to be the ones to make him laugh the most. Rumble often shares many of his interests. When Rumble and Savage were little, you would find the two sneaking out of their beds to have sleepovers with many of their siblings- Haoyu being the most common sibling to find the two in his bed the following morning. Out of all their siblings, Rumble hides the most in Haoyu’s shadow. 

Haoyu is often dragged around by Xue to go shopping and carry her bags for her. She likes to design clothes, so due to Haoyu’s ability to stand perfectly still for long periods of time, he is her mannequin. She discusses politics with him, though it is mostly her doing the talking and Haoyu nodding quietly. He doesn’t speak fondly of politics, but he at least understands them unlike the rest of their siblings. Haoyu’s nails are often new shades of color and cutely designed because of Xue. She makes all of his outfits, and the rest of her siblings. Haoyu gets pouty sometimes because Xue is very good at tricking him. 

It was extremely difficult for Haoyu to properly bond with Bao, but not because of their age gape. It was due to Haoyu often using sign to speak, and Bao being unable to read sign due to being blind. They found a system to resolve this. Haoyu has a small hand drum that his Baba used to use to calm him down when he was little and overwhelmed. It’s a noise he can hear clearly and likes. He keeps this drum on his hip when home, so Bao can always hear when he is approaching/so that Haoyu doesn’t accidentally startle Bao. Haoyu also use his index finger to write on Bao’s palms to talk. Rumble does a similar thing for Bao. Haoyu is protective of Bao, but often shows this quietly, by removing foes or obstacle to Bao long before Bao even realizes they are there. When Bao was an infant, if their parents had to leave at the same time, Haoyu was entrusted to hold, feed, and change Bao. 

(I’m debating between gold and blue eyes. Blue because of… certain reasons. So for now, his eyes are blue. This may change)

All siblings

(Next sibling) - MK

[butchreyes]

@carlos-in-glasses @strandnreyes and @heartstringsduet tagged me in seven sentence sunday.... how about the whole thing instead?

jet-setters / 3.9k / rated e

carlos and tk take their second honeymoon, and tk is a spoiled brat (affectionate).

Carlos tips his head against the edge of the jacuzzi, his eyes closed against the late afternoon sun, warm water lapping at his neck. He’d only meant to take a quick soak, something to soothe his muscles after a long day of hiking. But the tub has a certain hypnotic effect— the low rumble of jets are like white noise, lulling him halfway to sleep. He’d been happy to indulge TK with this vacation after their dud of a honeymoon, which Carlos spent sitting by the pool in monastic silence, pinned by the weight of his recent loss. TK had been patient with him then, for the most part. He tended to Carlos like a wounded bird; bringing him drinks garnished with huge pieces of fruit, poking him occasionally to test his reactions. This was probably all just as much for TK’s entertainment as it was for Carlos’s own good. Still, Carlos felt he owed his husband a do-over.  They picked up a few brochures featuring local attractions in the resort lobby, and have been steadily crossing them off since their arrival: guided tours of ancient ruins, marketplaces where the locals charge exuberantly for woven bracelets and colorful rocks that supposedly possess healing powers. The novelty of it all delights TK, and Carlos has been following his lead— the doting, obedient husband, his fanny pack stuffed with sunscreen and bottled water, haggling with vendors over whatever cheap souvenirs TK points at. All the while, TK keeps looking at him with that hopeful smile of his, trying to gauge whether Carlos is still having fun. Of course he’s having fun, Carlos tells him— he always has fun with TK. But they could have fun anywhere. They could have fun back home in Austin. Carlos would much rather take advantage of all the things they don’t have at home: breakfast brought right to their door, rose petals on fresh linens he doesn’t have to wash himself, a private patio with a jacuzzi long enough to span the full length of his body. He stretches his legs and lets his feet float to he surface, toes poking out into fresh, cool air. It’s nice enough, he thinks, just to float here. Surrounded by warmth; unburdened by the weight of his body, the sound of his thoughts. It’s almost meditative.

read the rest on ao3

tags under cut!

@paperstorm @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @emsprovisions @alrightbuckaroo

@mooshkat @carlos-tk @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @welcometololaland @rmd-writes

[rambheem-is-real]

Karna vs the (Modern) World Pt 2

pt 1 here

Karna just wants one day. One good day.

(btw all of these stories are also on ao3!)

-

Karna focused back on the world, coming out of his midnight meditation with a sigh. It had been a few days since the drive back to Kasi, a sight that Karna didn’t think he’d ever forget. He hadn’t been able to stop the horror of seeing Mother Ganga all dried up from bleeding out into their shared consciousness, and heard Bujji grow even more worried as Bhairava of all people shed an involuntary tear. 

As they drove further into the city, the more angry and afraid Karna got. What had happened to Kasi? He saw a bustling marketplace, but recognized none of the wares. He saw people, but didn’t recognize the fashion. There were signs, but he didn’t recognize the languages other than a food sign in Tamil. And speaking of food, he didn’t see a single appetizing thing on the pictures outside the businesses. Crime, slavery, thievery, all of the sins were clearly visible just from the few minutes they spent driving through Kasi. Karna had retreated into Bhairava, unwilling to see more. 

In the days that followed, he resurfaced to explore the world quickly before disappearing again. He would taste the first bite of the shrimp noodles Bhairava ordered, take a few breaths of the polluted air, and get his fortune read by some hack and his fake bird. Although, to be fair, the man could be pulling out the sun card every time because of Karna and not just to impress Bhairava, so maybe not a hack. 

Not all of his experiences were unpleasant, however. Somehow he figured out how to use one of the numerous digital interfaces (he gave up and asked Bujji) to locate a book in Sanskrit on the Mahabharata War, as they called it now, to read over the events that happened. The text was mostly accurate, to which Karna was grateful. The text also described his death in detail, which he tried to forget about. He then went outside to hold short discussions with passersby. Karna was used to being ignored anyway, but delighted in the fact that for all of the people who didn’t know who he was, the same number of people didn’t know who Arjuna was, either. We’re both irrelevant losers now, he thought, then sobered as he realized these people didn’t know Krishna either.

He also figured out how to use Bhairava’s mental knowledge, being inside of him. Procedural memory was a beautiful thing. Karna couldn’t go too deep, without Bhairava feeling the intrusion, but he was now able to do basic things such as comprehend the different languages they spoke around here, type on the glowing blue screens, use Bhairava’s flying boots, and wield chopsticks. 

He could also choose to view Bhairava’s dreams, lingering on the edge of his reality. Karna often saw a man alternating between treating Bhairava lovingly and cursing him out for a betrayal, stuck in what looked like a jail cell. He saw a scantily clad woman that Bhairava liked to fantasize beating him up in various ways. Karna would retreat from the dreamscape to give him some privacy, but also in guilt, as the woman’s clothes (or lack of them) reminded him of another woman he had seen disrobed. 

Aside from a few memories of the Complex (which even Karna had been stunned at seeing, knowing how the people outside were living) and a few scenes made up in Bhairava’s imagination, the last figure was a faceless woman that sounded like Bujji. They bickered in Bhairava’s dreams just as much as they did in real life, but there was an undercurrent of something else as well. He tried to not think about it. 

(Karna refused to accept that Bhairava had a thing for Bujji. No. It was an artificial being, for God’s sake.)

And speaking of Bujji, Karna warily glanced around the room as he stretched his limbs. From what little he had researched, aware that the thing was probably looking at his search history, Bujji seemed to be capable of anything. She didn’t have a physical form, but that made it worse as she could be anywhere. 

Karna had learned that the hard way the other day when he had flopped onto his mat outside of the residence, wanting some fresh (or as much as he could get here, anyway) air. He had just wanted to be away from Rajan and Bujji for one night so he could gather his wits, just one night. 

At that time on the roof there weren’t many people around. Karna let out a breath of relief, then broke down, going through his entire repertoire of Sanskrit swears. It was extremely poor conduct for a member of Duryodhana’s court, but there was the problem. Duryodhana wasn’t here, and Karna had no idea how to get back to him. Aswhatthama was here, but Karna had no idea how to get to him either. He was all alone in an entirely new time. Maybe he could try escaping Bujji? Going on the run? 

“Bhairava?” the voice had come from the generator a few feet to the side of him, planted into the roof. Karna yelped in surprise. What the…? “I didn’t know you knew… all those words.”

“How are you even here?” Karna had scrambled to try to piece himself together again.

Bujji paused. “I’m… everywhere, Bhairava. I’m an AI. You know this.” Karna got the impression she was frowning. “Do you want me to.. leave?” 

Karna winced. The being sounded hurt. He didn’t want that, actually. “No, Bujji. I am just.. out of sorts right now.”

When no other words came from him, Bujji accepted that. “Ok. I’m watching over you, don’t worry. You won’t get snatched by any of your debtors up here.”

Debtors?? Snatching him up? The night was for resting, these people had no honor if they would attack him at this time. When did the rules of dueling go out of fashion? Maybe the rooftop nap was a bad idea. But Bujji did say she was going to protect him. Watching over you, his mind reminded him, which he tried to ignore. Karna had sighed and dropped into sleep, feeling stupid and lonely and homesick.

But that had proven Bujji could be anywhere. Karna hadn’t figured out her limitations yet, but it wasn’t like he could just look it up on the servers that she was also on. For all he knew, she could be watching him right now, judging his midnight meditation. Reading his heartbeat, because yes, that was a thing she was capable of apparently. Then he looked over at Bujji’s car body in the center of the room. Or rather, the lack of a body. 

He frowned. 

Bujji had said she was going to take the car for a ride a few hours ago, whatever that meant. She still wasn’t back. He got up and wandered over to the table, littered with spare parts and Bhairava’s scribbled notes. Was there a way he could figure out where she was, the same way she could somehow track him? The tools he had near him didn’t make much sense to him. 

But maybe Bhairava knew the answers. Karna sighed and gave Bhairava back control. 

***

Bhairava blinked. And then cursed. This had been happening too many times lately, waking up in a different place than what he slept to. He would think he developed a sleepwalking problem, but he didn’t think he was falling asleep during the day either, for short minutes at a time. Something else was happening, but he had no idea what.  

Bhairava remembered this all started in Shambala, when he woke up with the girl from the labs, and the freshly speared and barbequed corpse of Commander Manas a few feet behind her. Now he woke up in front of his table, feeling well rested and more peaceful than usual. 

His table. 

Which was currently missing the car in front of it. 

“Hey, Bujji?” he tried. “Where’s your body?” There was no response. “Are you mad at me? Giving me the silent treatment again?” Bujji still didn’t answer, and Bhairava tensed. Bujji was never this quiet. If she was upset at him she would let him know, be passive aggressive about it until he figured out what he did wrong. She’d never been offline at any point, connected into all of his systems. If she had a software update she’d leave a note, and Bhairava briefly searched the table for anything he had missed, maybe when he was sleepwalking, but nothing popped up. 

Had she.. left him again? Like the time she tried to escape? 

“Bujji if you wanted to leave you could’ve just told me,” Bhairava said again, shoulders drooping at the silence. It was true that he stopped Bujji from leaving years ago, but that was before everything they did together. He had hoped they were comfortable enough with each other in their partnership now, comfortable enough that Bujji would trust him not to go after her if she left. 

And he would, Bhairava thought to himself. If that’s what Bujji really wanted, even if it would tear him up inside, the loss of his one and only true friend- no one loves you everyone leaves you never change this is what’s needed for this world- he loved her enough to let her go. 

Unless… he was feeling sad for no reason and she had been taken instead? Against her will?

Bhairava buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to freak Bujji out, and make it seem like he just wanted his car back. If she truly wanted to leave on her own, Bhairava wouldn’t go after her. But what if she was hurt? What if someone had taken her?

Bhairava tried to push back the images of Bujji’s body chained up in a garage, some guy splicing through her code and doing who knows what to her mind. 

“Arghh!” That’s it, he made up his mind. Bhairava was not a man who thought things through, and Bujji would probably yell at him for it in a few hours, but at least they would be together again. 

He would find Bujji. He would make sure she was safe and okay. And if this was what she wanted, he’d leave. If not, he’d beat the shit out of whoever dared to lay a hand on Bujji. 

Bhairava walked over to the screen and flipped on the secret tracker that he put onto Bujji’s body years ago. It had been a painstaking process to keep it a secret from Bujji herself, but it had been necessary when they were still learning to trust each other. As the years had gone by Bhairava resolved to ignore it, vowing to never use it, but these were exceptional circumstances. 

Sorry Bujji, he thought to himself. But I’m coming for you, whether you want me to or not.

-

@n0tm3g @mahi-wayy @i-exist-solely-for-the-drama @celestesinsight

[bitchalotl]

Reinier and Berial headcanons:

-Berial would definitely bang the pots and pans while Reinier sleeps.

-Berial would flip the monopoly board over just as Reinier leaves him bankrupt.

-Reinier would try to do some meditation or yoga, and Berial would come to bother him and make faces and noises (like a cat)

-Reinier grabs Berial by his puffy neck thing or his tail when he gets pissed with him.

- "Nuh uh" "FYM nuh uh!?" Dynamic.

-Berial would take Reinier's stuff and hide it in his hat.

-Every once in a while Reinier just throws Berial out the window.

-Berial keeps fake flirting with Reinier to piss him off, and Reinier just thinks he's being unprofessional.

-The only thing they can do together (in peace at least) is trash talk celestials, like old women at the marketplace.

[crazerk]

Of course im taking the captive route and being just pissed at how everyone treats me like livestock. The spitting at the disgusting sellers face at the marketplace scene was funny.

Here's me hoping im gonna get a knife somewhere to defend myself at some point.

How would the ros react if I suddenly cut my hair really short after having it first be to my mid back just to spite everyone.

I wish I could say the challenges for captive Mc end there but alas, they’re only just beginning. A knife will be needed.

As for the reactions I guess it depends on your relationship with them? For this instance I’ll pretend you’re on good terms.

Kaz would call it childish but his lips would twitch in amusement. He’d ask that you bring up your frustrations before taking drastic measures in the future.

Fang admires your boldness and wonders how the harem mistresses reacted? He laughs when you tell him they were aghast and says he would do anything to see the looks on their faces. He tells you if you’re willing to dress up as a boy there’s a tavern he could take you to…

Persa would try to be supportive but she wonders if this is the best way to regulate your emotions. You should try meditating with her. Perhaps you’d like to talk about it? Maybe over a cup of tea?

Cutting one’s hair is seen as a symbol of renewal/religious purity so Ignasia would find it ironic you’ve done it to be spiteful. She thinks you look good with short hair.

[kanerallels]

I will keep to a semi consistent posting schedule if it KILLS ME (it's not even that hard I'm just dramatic)

First lines under the cut, as always!! It's time for a POV that I've been avoiding for a while (which is very uncharacteristic of me, considering how much I love him)

Taglist: @accidental-spice @day-to-day-thots @auroramagpie @heckin-music-dork @opalknight

@seleneisrising @cassie-fanfics @ana-cantskywalker @lothalnyx (DM me if you want ot be added or removed to the tag list!)

The first thing that he really registered was that his head was killing him. His face in general, really, especially his jaw. This never meant anything good for him.

The second thing that he registered was that he was laying face down on the ground. Gritty earth dug into the side of his cheek, his mask was missing, and he was vaguely aware of noise around him. It was strange—he wasn’t used to this kind of noise. Atollon was quiet, peaceful. Most of the sounds came from the base. This was more of the kind of buzz you heard when you were in a busy street—people walking and talking, passing speeders, vendors hawking their wares.

Wait. Where am I?

Kanan scrambled upright—or rather, tried to. Pain shot through his head, and he bit back a groan of pain. Catching himself before he face planted back into the dirt, he took a few steady breaths, his head spinning.

He was not on Atollon. That much was clear. Everything was off—the sounds, which were clearly that of some kind of marketplace, the smells, the decidedly chilly breeze tugging at his hair. Even the dirt felt different—which, a few months ago, Kanan would have thought sounded crazy.

But he’d spent enough time out on his own, meditating on Atollon, that he knew the difference. Somehow, he’d wound up on a planet far from home.

[tadpole-apocalypse]

OC MEME

tagged by @vspin. Thank you fren!

name: Morgan. Just Morgan.

nickname(s): someone probably called her freckles a few times?

pronouns: she/her

star sign: not applicable

height: I hadn't thought about it honestly...a little bit shorter than Astarion since that tends to be how I draw them.

orientation: Pansexual, but prefers men due to them being a forbidden fruit for most of her early life.

race: Human. Probably.

romancing: Astarion and Halsin

fave fruit: Pears

fave season: Winter, less work to do and more time to play in the snow!

fave flower: She doesn't know much about flowers, but she likes the white ones that look like bells.

fave scent: Fresh bread. It's nostalgic for her, she was tasked with being the Baker Mother's assistant and helped with making everyone's daily bread. She likes walking through food markets near her shop in Baldur's Gate to smell all the fresh pastries and bread products.

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: hot chocolate because caffeine sets off her wild magic, but she'd really prefer a nice sweet wine.

average sleep hours: normal human sleep hours

dogs or cats: No, her and her Vampire lover have normal pets, like a brain that is also a Kitty and 4 undead ghoul servants they named Gortash, Ketheric, Orin and Brain.

dream trip: She'd like to see another big city someday! She likes the bustle of the crowds, the local marketplace and food scene, various festivals for all sorts of holidays she never knew of, for races she is still learning about.

amount of blankets: Everyone who sleeps loves many blankets, this is known, and her boyfriend generates no body heat and actually steals all of hers. I feel like the blanket situation during most of the early acts is pretty poor, they probably have something basic to keep off the worst of the chill but nothing cozy until they get to the city proper. Then the Elfsong Tavern has all these thick, furred blankets and she just cocoons herself and hisses when Astarion tries to touch her with his ice cold hands.

random fact(s):

(stealing your fact about languages >:3c) Morgan's native tongue is an obscure dialect of Elvish that is spoken mostly by Feywild Eladrin. I feel like she should have an unusual accent because of this but I kind of just like, write her with a valley girl accent because that's how I talk, lol.

her wild magic is very active and tends to surge in response to her emotions. She's learned to control her emotional responses pretty well and is a fairly zen person overall. She took up meditation after accidentally setting loose a couple of cambions in the marketplace during a heated haggle. Oxus is who suggested and taught her the techniques! Then during the events of the game, she starts joining Halsin in his morning meditations, which is how they start to grow close.

tagging @withersily, @collegeoflore, @eeblingtheshade, @grandmother-goblin, @thebearmuse and @bl3ss3dbyt1amat or like, anyone else that wants to do this ofc!

[cchickki]

Get to know my Tav!

wasn't tagged, but I saw @sardoniqueen101 do this and wanted to do the same for my Tav 💜

Jeha | Asmodeus Tiefling | Monk: Way of the Four Elements | she/her | 28 or 29

Favorite Weapon: her fists, since she's a monk she's very skilled in martial arts hand to hand combat

Style of Combat: offensive mostly, although she can weight out a situation well it isn't unusual for her to throw the first punch or kick

Most Prized Possession: when she joined a temple for monk training as a young teenager she gave up all possessions

Deepest Desire: as much as she tells herself she wishes as a monk to achieve enlightenment, deep down she wants to live her life free with Astarion

Guilty Pleasure: sometimes she just wants to let her hair down and be wild for a night, but her strong sense of self-discipline she constantly fights with

Best-Kept Secret: her past relationship with Rhol (now Queen Rhol the Despoiler)

Greatest Strength: her perseverance and empathy

Fatal Flaw: very naive and at times quick to anger

Favorite Smell: scent of jasmine and eucalyptus

Favorite Spell or Cantrip: she doesn't know spells, mostly ki actions

Pet Peeve: the condescending way her mother's side of the family speaks to her

Bad Habit: when she needs her space for meditations, she can get easily irritated when she is interrupted

Hidden Talent: part of her wishes she was a bard, she can play the drums pretty well, and is also good at lanceboard

Leisure Activity: meditation, nature walks and (light) training/exercise

Favorite Drink: to her nothing beats fresh mountain spring water

Comfort Food: vegetable soup with extra tofu

Favorite Person: Astarion (her dad and grandma are also up there lol)

Favorite Display of Affection (Platonic and/or Romantic): hugs, hand holding, touching foreheads (both to friends and lovers)

Fondest Childhood Memory: her father taking her to the Marketplace in the central part of Baldur's Gate

[paultakeuchi]

Découvre Paris sans a priori pour faire le clair dans ta tête… Les idées préconçues, les leçons apprises par cœur, les cartes postales chics qui te montrent le côté investi par les promoteurs pour séduire les touristes… La, on est sur la marketplace, à côté du marché le moins cher de Paris avec une foule le jeudi et le dimanche qui apprécie le choix et les prix… Mais c’est pas la seule place qui soit… Pense à30 secondes à l’impensable… Tu pourrais faire autrement ou pas ? #culture #marché #memes #marketplace #plateforme #decision #entrepreneure #commercant #artisan #autoentrepreneur #influenceuse #influencers #meditation #conscience #strategiedigitale #strategie #dietetique #artdevivre https://www.instagram.com/p/CpX38WJtdRl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[rayan12sworld]

💙A Thousand Things

By:tickertape

Summary:

Wei Ying can’t find his words. “What would I do in Gusu?”

The man’s mouth quirks in what Wei Ying cannot interpret as anything but a tiny, smug smirk. “Learn.”

Wei Ying has made a fine life for himself. He’s got his jiejies and his talismans; he doesn’t need anyone’s charity. But spending a whole year in Gusu? That’s hard to turn down.

Chapter:11/11

Words:108,237

Status:completed

(Wei Ying isn't adopted by Jiangs)

...Lan Qiren has been a teacher for many years; he’s seen his share of naturally gifted students. Wei Ying, the scruffy, arrogant, waspish boy from the marketplace, is something altogether different. He watches from a distance as his nephew and Wei Ying sit together at a table in the library, discussing a text on advanced meditation techniques. Wei Ying is slovenly, completely slouched over the book, gesticulating wildly. The end of his brush is gnawed on, his fingers ink-stained. His words are rapid, too loud. His hair is a mess. Wangji is watching him like he hung the moon. Despite himself, Lan Qiren also finds his gaze gravitating repeatedly towards the bright spark that has the usual Cloud Recesses balance spinning off-kilter. There’s something about him that’s difficult to look away from. Something familiar. His smile, his laugh, and something in the way he moves his hands as he writes. It sparks something deep in Lan Qiren’s memory. It isn’t until he watches him spar that suddenly things click into clearer focus. His quicksilver motions, instinctive and foxlike. Cangse Sanren.

~

he will know of his parents one day; Lan Qiren could not deprive him of that. But just for this year, he wants to watch and see. He could not articulate it if he tried, but he watched his brother be destroyed by their sect’s rules and agendas. He has seen good men dig their own righteous graves, and callous men abuse the integrity of others. Wei Ying has come from nothing, as far as he or the world knows, and to go from that to bearing the weight of all that came before him is more than Lan Qiren would wish on anybody. So when Jiang Fengmian visits to discuss trade treaties, Lan Qiren does not tell him. When he marvels at their new disciple’s capabilities in the field, Lan Qiren does not tell him. When he mentions blithely over dinner that the boy seems almost familiar, Lan Qiren does not tell him. He has a sense that, no matter how much his old friend may think himself balanced and impartial, the desire to guard and guide Cangse Sanren’s son would prove too much for him. It would just lock Wei Ying in the same cage of well-intended but misplaced expectations. Lan Qiren has been a teacher for many years; he’s seen his share of naturally gifted students, and he’s seen his share of tragedies, both the preventable and the inexorable. Wei Ying, the scruffy, arrogant, remarkable boy with too many ideas and too much heart, has the potential to be something altogether different. To watch how high he can soar without a tether, if just for the moment— it might be something to behold.

~~~ wow he really didn't tell him

Wei Ying makes it all the way to Destroy the five poisons before he can’t concentrate any more. He drops his brush onto the table with a clatter, exhaling loudly. “Trouble with the precepts, Lan Zhan?” Lan Zhan freezes, his eyes still cut towards Wei Ying. He gently lowers his brush onto the stand and adjusts his sleeves. “You… seem upset.” Wei Ying fights the urge to just punch himself in the face. “I’m tired.” This just sends Lan Zhan’s brows furrowing lower. “You didn’t come to the jingshi.” “I was out.” “Are you having difficulty sleeping due to nightma—” “No.” Wei Ying jolts the table, sending his brush tumbling to the floor. “And even if I was, it’s not your job to— to make me sleep, or whatever.” He breathes out hard through his nose, aiming for ‘calm’ and probably missing by about a thousand lǐ. Lan Zhan’s properly frowning now. “Wei Ying—” “Drop it, Lan Zhan. Finish your work.” But he doesn’t return to his text. “Wei Ying, whatever is upsetting you—” Yesterday’s hurt flares up in him in a burst. Lan Zhan’s words; It’s not about his conduct. It is about him. He does not belong here. Wei Ying grips the wooden table in front of him, trying not to raise his voice. “—is my business.” He finishes for him through gritted teeth. Lan Zhan reaches for him; too close, too much, too little, and that’s the last straw. Wei Ying slaps his hand away, the smack resounding loud and sharp in the stiff silence of the library.

~~ 🫠

“Wei Ying.” Ah, there he is. Wei Ying is pretty sure he’s heard his name spoken more times today than ever before. “Lan Zhan.” He responds dryly. There’s no response for a few breaths, and Wei Ying risks a glance. Lan Zhan’s dark hair is damp, curling at the ends, and there are tiny droplets of shining water caught on his eyelashes. He really seems like a jade sculpture. Unfairly beautiful. Lan Zhan worries at his lip, and Wei Ying watches that, too. “I have upset you.” He says, finally. Wei Ying exhales, breath furling out before him like dragon smoke. He wants to be angry. There’s so much burning up in him, but...Maybe Lingxin is right. “Yeah. Yes. You have.”

Lan Zhan nods, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere in the water between them. “I... admit that I do not know what I did, or have done. But I am sorry.” Wei Ying doesn’t know what to say— how much to say. “Thanks,” feels safest. Because no matter how good the advice was, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants Lan Zhan to unsay it, unfeel it. Cold, fierce tension runs through him in jitters, locking his jaw painfully tight. Wanting is pointless. Lan Zhan did say those things. No amount of misinterpretation can make that an untruth. He turns away to hide his face, which he can feel contorting with emotion. He doesn’t want to think about this any more. But then Lan Zhan’s voice comes from beside him, painfully tentative. “Was— was it our conversation at the inn? Did I misspeak about your intentions towards cultivation?” Fuck. Lan Zhan had been so gentle with him on the balcony, more than he had needed to be towards someone putting such unnecessary strain on his life. Wei Ying shakes his head, feeling the corners of his mouth wobble. The cold is beginning to feel stifling. He needs to go to bed. “Was it about coming home?” Wei Ying’s heart clenches in his chest. He whips around, furious tears welling in his eyes. “Home?” He says, voice strained. “What home, Lan Zhan? You said I didn’t belong here.” Lan Zhan looks stricken. His eyes go wide. “I—” “I heard you speaking to your brother. Wei Ying is not a Lan. He will never be one. He doesn’t belong here. I heard you.” Lan Zhan stares, mouth agape. Wei Ying can’t stop. “It’s only until the conference, Wangji! I can’t— why? It’s one thing to feel like that, but to— to—?” He flails his arms, trying to find his point. “Just tell me that you think I’m worthless, that you hate me. It would have been easier.” His words break off with a crack, and he slams a fist into the water. Icy droplets splash miserably onto his face. He sniffs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The night sits still and frigid and still around them. It drains the last of Wei Ying’s anger, and he sinks into himself, feeling hollow and… sad. He’s sad. Hurt. He wants things to go back to the way they were.

~~~😭😭

“You kissed me.” In a whisper, barely leaving his tongue: “We kissed.” Lan Zhan freezes, and Wei Ying can hear the way his breath catches in his chest. The way the hand resting over his tenses. Shit. Shit, he’s ruined it. He has to backtrack— “It was silly, I—” “No.” Wei Ying bites his tongue with how hard his jaw snaps shut. “Not silly.” Lan Zhan says, and it comes out a bit choked. He seems to be scrabbling for words. His Lan Zhan, scrabbling. “I— I had thought I dreamt it.” Wei Ying feels time stop. Feels his world tilt a little bit, as Lan Zhan gazes imploringly at him. “It would not have been the first time.” And then, all in one breath, like it takes everything in him: “Kissing you is all I have ever wished to do, since we first met.” The air seems to leave the room in one big rush, taking the breath from Wei Ying’s lungs with it. Lan Zhan wanted to… kiss him? Lan Zhan wanted to kiss him. Has been wanting. Just like Wei Ying has been wanting. Except longer. Longer, Wei Ying realises as he watches the tense line of his brow and mouth, the dark intensity of his golden eyes as they search his face. Lan Zhan wanted to kiss him the night of the festival. And before. “All this time?” He whispers. Lan Zhan gives the faintest nod. He’s so beautiful. Even nervous, even when he’s radiating apprehension. Lan Zhan has been wanting. He’s been staring at Wei Ying’s mouth right back. Like Wei Ying, he’s been wondering how the wine would taste shared between their tongues, how his hands would feel reaching underneath Wei Ying’s robe, touching his bared skin. Heat rushes through him; a dam bursting over shallow fields, dancing over his body in goosebumps. Wei Ying parts his lips to call out for him, but Lan Zhan is already there, barely a breath away. He’s there and his face is so close that Wei Ying can smell him. Sandalwood and cool, clean linen. And a new note; deeper, muskier.

[sudharsanuniverse]

Though you have a good writing plan, staying focused on it for a longer time is quite hard.

It is human nature to get distracted while working on something.

But you can enhance your concentration level by practising meditation, embracing nature, and bypassing multitasking.

There are also apps available in application marketplaces that can help you keep focused while writing.

Apps like

-Todoist for task organization.

-Forest for minimizing distractions.

Bonus:

-Grammarly for improving writing quality.

Try these apps while you writing. These could improve your focus & writing quality as well.

[mountain-sage]

"I would like you to become so capable that you can remain in the marketplace and yet meditative. I would like you to relate with people, to love, to move in millions of relationships - because they enrich - and yet remain capable of closing your doors and sometimes having a holiday from all relationship... so that you can relate with your own being also."

Osho