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thedevilssinner · 10 months ago

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Sanguine Hearts

Pairing: Astarion x gn elf Tav (it was first written with a female tav in mind, so let me know if I accidentally forgot to rewrite it somewhere)

Warning: angst - but with somewhat happy ending?

Story is based on mix of THIS and THIS headcanon, set mainly before the BG3 plot and Tav and Astariona are thiramin - elven word for soulmates. It's from Tav's POV and mostly about how they try to deal with the loss of Astarion and their reaction when they meet someone who 'looks like him' after the Nautiloid.

I also gave Tav a last name but it's only used once and only for the purpose of the story. The last name is Ignotus = latin for unknown.

Hope you enjoy 🩷 and big thanks to @yeoldtrashcollector for helping me with this. I really apreciace it 🩷🙏

The Upper City's bustling streets overflowed with people. Some hurried to their workplaces, others diligently carried out their job duties, and a few of them were enjoying the splendor of a beautiful sunny day. Among these fortunate souls were two elven lovers who found a serene spot by a fountain. The man sat there, his eyes closed, face upturned to bask in the sun's warmth. His companion nestled beside him, leaning slightly against his shoulder. They watched with amusement as a cat, not far off, playfully attempted to catch a fluttering butterfly.

After a while, their gaze shifted to their partner, a mischievous grin crept across their face as they watched him bask in the sun. Their fingers dipped into the fountain's cool water, and with a playful flick, they sent a shimmering spray in the direction of the elf beside them. Startled, he jolted, the styled curls bouncing around his face as he turned his head towards the other person, an unamused expression on his face.

Then he suddenly attacks, as a cat, reaching out to catch his companion, his intention evident. Yet, the other elf evaded his grasp, leaping away from the fountain, their laughter carrying through the place.

The silver-haired elf shook his head in disbelief but promptly gave chase, the sound of their shared mirth echoing through the city streets. He finally closed the gap between them and encircled their waist with his arms. Turning them to face him, he whispered with a triumphant smile, "I've got you."

Their laughter persisted, though they attempted to free themselves from his embrace, their efforts proving futile. "You do," they gave up at the end, sighing.

A mock sternness colored his features as he mused, "I should have you arrested for disrespecting the Magistrate."

The elven lover responded swiftly, their confidence unwavering. "You wouldn't do that."

Arching an eyebrow, he inquired, "And why do you think I wouldn't do that?"

“Because you love me too much for that." They replied immediately.

The white-haired elf sighed, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Even though I don't understand why, with how much you tease me all the time… yes, I do love you."

"I love you too, my lovely magistrate." they murmured softly, wrapping their arms around his neck.

Astarion couldn't help but reciprocate their affectionate gesture, pulling them closer. The world around them faded into a distant hum as they exchanged a tender gaze. The streets of the Upper City, the bustling crowd, and even the relentless sun all seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in a world of their own.

His lips curved into a gentle smile, as he whispered, "My darling Tav, you’re making me love you more and more every day."

Tav's eyes sparkled with an undeniable love as they leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Their embrace spoke of shared laughter, stolen moments, and the profound bond that had brought them together in this vibrant city.

Moments later, they pulled away from the kiss, their foreheads touching, their breaths in harmony. Astarion spoke softly, "We should probably end this soon. The council meeting is approaching, and the magistrate should not be late."

Tav nodded, their expression a mix of reluctance and understanding. "You're right," they conceded. "But let's savor this moment a little longer."

They remained locked in their embrace, cherishing the warm, sunny day, the love that bound them, and the enchanting beauty of the Upper City. Their laughter and love echoed through the city, a reminder that even the Magistrates could find solace in the arms of love.

A few months had passed since that idyllic moment by the fountain when Tav was awakened by an insistent knock on their door. They groggily crawled out of bed, hastily donning a soft robe, and shuffled toward the door. Upon opening it, they were met with the sight of a city guard who visibly stiffened upon seeing them.

"Are you Tav? Tav Ignotus?" he inquired, and Tav, still half-asleep, confirmed their identity.

"Yes, that's me. Is something wrong?" they asked, their sleep-induced haziness giving way to a sense of unease.

The guard pressed on with a heavy expression, "Are you in a relationship with Magistrate Ancunin?"

Their uneasiness rose. "Yes, I am. Please, what's going on?"

With a somber expression, the guard delivered the devastating news. "I'm very sorry, but Magistrate Ancunin is dead. You were listed in his records as someone to be informed if something happened to him."

Tav's world seemed to crumble at those words. The silence was heavy, broken only by the frantic pounding of their heart. Stumbling backward, Tav leaned against the doorframe to steady themselves, disbelief washing over them. The guard extended a hand to support them, but they could hardly process it. "No, this... This can't be true," the elf muttered, shaking their head in denial.

"I know it must be difficult to accept, but unfortunately, it's true. Our patrol found him this morning. I'm really sorry," the guard offered sympathetically.

Tav clung to him, desperation in their eyes. "What... What happened?" they managed to utter through a constricted throat.

The guard hesitated but then responded, "He... He was beaten to death."

"What? But... by whom? Who would do something like that?" they asked, though they already had a painful inkling. Astarion had his share of enemies – those who disagreed with his judgments and the families of those he had sentenced.

"We don't know, though we're trying to find out, I promise. I'm really sorry about what happened," the guard repeated, offering his condolences.

Tav's world was shrouded in silence once more as they tried to process the horrific news. They gazed at the guard with a desperate determination. "Can I see him? Can... Can I say goodbye?" they implored, voice trembling, the glimmer of hope that this was all a mistake still lingering deep within them.

The guard hesitated, reluctant to grant their request. "I'm not sure if it's the best idea. Magistrate Ancunin... he... It's not a pretty sight," he warned.

But Tav's grip on his arm tightened. "Even so... I... I need to see him. I need to know if it's really him. Please," the elf begged, a note of desperation in their voice.

Eventually the guard agreed, leading them to the place where Astarion's body was being held until the funeral arrangements were made. He unveiled only his face, the rest concealed beneath a sheet. Tav saw the battered features, the bloody lips and nose, dark bruises all over, and they couldn't bear to imagine the rest of his body.

Seeing Astarion's face shattered their last glimmer of hope. They recognized the pallor, the snow-white hair, and the familiar features, despite the injuries. It was him.

At that moment, Tav broke down completely, tears streaming down their cheeks, uncontrollable sobs wracking their body. The guard had to lead them away, offering words of consolation that they couldn't even hear. Tav felt apathetic, angry, and desolate, a whirlwind of emotions tearing them apart. They didn't want to bury Astarion; it was unthinkable. Their lovely little star… gone.

Back in their apartment, Tav's eyes landed on a painting of the two of them, created by a street artist. Their heart ached at the memory of their happier times. What were they supposed to do now? How could they possibly cope with this unbearable loss?

In search of some comfort, Tav discovered one of Astarion's discarded shirts he left in their home and crawled into bed, burying their face into it, to inhale his scent. It wasn't the same as having him beside them, but it offered a small measure of comfort in the midst of their overwhelming grief.

And then Tav cried again.

Tav existed in a state of numbness, unable to face the world outside. They hadn't mustered the strength to attend Astarion's funeral that was happening on the same day they discovered his death. They heard that an anonymous benefactor had taken care of the arrangements but despite that, they couldn't go. The thought of watching their beloved being lowered into the cold unforgiving ground was simply too much to bear.

Their days blended into nights, a mess of irregular sleep, missed meals, and a profound sense of loss. Astarion's shirt, which they clung to desperately, no longer carried his scent, but it was their last tangible connection to him.

Concerned friends, aware of their suffering, took turns visiting them. They offered condolences and support, attempting to coax the devastated elf into eating and taking care of themselves.

Tav barely noticed their presence. The weight of their grief keeping them locked in their own world.

When one well-meaning friend tried to gently pry Astarion’s shirt from their clenched hands, it led to a visceral reaction – screams and tears – as Tav withdrew further into their emotional cocoon. They were a mere echo of the vibrant person they once were, their soul yearning for Astarion's return.

It was getting out of hand, so Tav’s friends decided to contact their parents and it made their hearts ache to hear about their child's heartbreak. When they arrived at their home, the sight of Tav in their grief-stricken state shattered them. Tav’s father held them in a tight, protective embrace, cradling them like the little child they still were in his eyes. Their mother sat beside them, her gentle hand tracing comforting circles on Tav's trembling back.

And Tav cried once more, the tears flowing as they clung to their father, calling out for Astarion and pouring out their agony.

The parents recognized that their child could not remain in the city or in their current state of self-neglect. They faced the difficult decision of taking them back to their village, their childhood home. It was their hope that the familiarity and solace of their roots would help Tav find some semblance of peace. With heavy hearts, they began the process of gently coaxing them away from the city and toward the heaven of their village, a place where perhaps, in time, their shattered soul might start to mend.

The journey to their childhood village was long and somber one, with Tav still clinging to their parents, episodes of tears coming and going like unpredictable storms. The forested surroundings of the village welcomed them, the familiar sights and sounds enveloping their senses. The soothing embrace of nature that once surrounded them, combined with the echoes of their past, offered a glimmer of hope for solace. Their parents hoped that the serene village would help mend their child's shattered spirit.

But Tav felt disoriented.

They were now far removed from the bustling city and from the places that reminded them of Astarion. His loss continued to haunt them, an ever present pain that seemed impossible to bear. They left the village a long time ago to explore life beyond its borders, an adventure that had brought them into Astarion's life and led to their love.

Now, they were back, but he was gone, leaving them feeling utterly lost.

Grief is a peculiar thing for anyone and could change a person in many ways. Tav's mourning lasted over fifty years, not that long of a span for their kind who could live for centuries, although their prolonged sorrow still raised eyebrows.

But most also understood that their love for Astarion had been genuine and profound. Shared souls that were ripped apart by death.

In the beginning, their parents played an active role in ensuring Tav ate and took care of themselves until they regained some semblance of independence. They coaxed Tav to join them on walks through the woods and gently encouraged them to engage in household chores.

Slowly, Tav began to reintegrate into the life in the village. They offered their assistance to the village in any way they could, participating in tasks when they felt up to it. Yet, the sight of happy couples still caused a painful constriction in their heart. In time, however, they grew accustomed to it, and the raw grief evolved into a dull, enduring ache. They could now think of Astarion with a mix of fondness and sadness. Bittersweet mix that stays probably forever inside of them.

Tav believed that nothing could ever be similarly devastating as the loss of their beloved. But some 200 years passed and during an unexpected and fateful encounter, their existence took a perplexing turn.

Snatched from their life by a Mind Flayer's ship and a tadpole implanted into their brain wasn't something they expected. Their journey on the ship was fraught with danger and confusion. It was there that they met the fierce Githyanki warrior Lae'zel and then freed another named Shadowheart.

Together, they somehow managed to crash the ship, surviving who knows how.

Now, Tav stood on the shore, with Shadowheart by their side and the Githyanki nowhere in sight, the blazing sun bearing down on them and the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid smoldering in the background as they began to explore. It was then that a man's voice called out for help, drawing Tav's attention. Eager to assist other survivors, they approached, but what they encountered was beyond their wildest imagination.

There, before them, stood Astarion. Or at least, someone who appeared to be him. His eyes were crimson, and his complexion even paler than Tav remembered. Their emotions swirled into a turbulent mix of sadness and anger. How dare anyone impersonate Astarion after their beloved had been dead for two centuries? And do such a bad job!

Without hesitation, Tav lunged at the imitation, a fierce cry escaping their lips as they tackled him to the ground. They straddled his body, a dagger pressed to his throat. “How dare you?! How dare you take his form?! Show me who you really are... now!” Their command was laced with fury, even surprising themselves with their own actions. But Tav couldn't stop when someone was using Astarion's face for an unknown purpose. Shadowheart behind Tav was looking surprised and confused, trying to call for Tav to ask what the hell is happening but with no avail.

The shapeshifter under their form seemed taken aback but replied, “Darling, there seems to have been a little misunderstanding. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d appreciate it if you’d remove the dagger from my neck.” His voice is smooth and flirtatious and so unmistakably Astarion’s that it hurts, and Tav presses the dagger a little harder against his neck.

“Shut up, shapeshifter!” Tav snapped at him, their eyes locked on the face that was so familiar yet different. “Where did you even get his face? His voice?” Their grip on the dagger shook. “You have no right to pretend you're Astarion when he's... when he's gone. And to do it so poorly!” Beneath their anger, a deep-seated sadness could be heard.

The imposter's eyes widened, revealing fangs that sent a shiver down Tav's spine. The terrifying thought that he might not be a shapeshifter but something far worse began to take hold.

“Tav?” The fake Astarion finally spoke, voice filled with longing, as though he had just remembered something long-buried in his mind. His flirtatious tone had vanished, replaced by confusion. “You are them, aren't you? Gods, how could I forget... so beautiful.” His red eyes traced their face, and he lifted his arm tentatively toward them, fingers twitching with the yearning for touch but withholding.

Tav's resolve wavered as they listened to the shapeshifter. The voice, the face, everything about him screamed Astarion, and their heart ached. But they knew, or at least they thought they knew, that it couldn't be him. “No, stop! Stop it! You can't be him. You can't... he's dead, and your eyes are wrong. You're wrong!” Tav cried, their entire body trembling, dagger still dangerously close to his neck.

The shapeshifter easily took hold of Tav's wrist and moved their hand away from his neck. He wrenched the dagger from their fingers and discarded it, his lips forming a sad smile. “That's what vampirism does to you, my love,” he admitted softly, his voice heavy with pain and sadness.

And just as if the universe wanted to show them the truth, their tadpole stirred, connecting them to Astarion's. They could feel pain and see through his eyes a bloody hand, his hand, reaching up towards a dark figure, red glowing eyes looking down at them.

The figure kneeled down, revealing a man with dark hair and a cruel smile, fangs bared. Before they could comprehend what was happening, the man sank his teeth into their throat, and everything plunged into darkness.

“No... no…” Tav's voice quivered, tears welling in their eyes as the connection ended, throat tight with emotions. Their beloved was still somehow alive, transformed into a creature of the night. “Astarion…” They whispered his name with a shaky breath, their hands clutching his shirt as tears streamed down their cheeks. Their Astarion, their little star, was alive.

Astarion, too, seemed disoriented by the shared connection. “What in the hells was that?” he asked, confusion etched across his features. His hand reached up, finally touching them and wiping off the tears from their cheek, his touch cold, so devastatingly cold.

Tav struggled to compose themselves, wiping away the rest of the tears. “It's the Mind Flayer’s worm - it connects us which means that you… you were on the ship too.” they came to a revelation.

Astarion nodded, confirming their words. “That worm, of course. That explains things. Somewhat.” he said, sounding defeated.

Silence falling over them for a few seconds, until Shadowheart’s voice reached them. “Can someone finally explain to me what just happened?”

And that was the end of their meeting, at least for now. There were so many questions forming in both of their heads but no time to ask them. Not when there was still burning Nautiloid behind them and possible death creeping in their heads, so any conversation they wanted to have, they kept to themselves for now.

Meanwhile, Tav tried to explain everything to the best of their ability and comfort, to Shadowheart. Leaving huge chunks unsaid, because they'd only known each other for a few hours and the dark haired half-elf didn't seem like a very sharing person herself.

Still, both Tav and Astarion knew they would have to talk as soon as they had the chance. For 200 years they thought Astarion was dead, and Astarion had completely forgotten their existence... that definitely leaves plenty of topics to talk about, especially when you add in their new situation and the fact that Astarion is now a vampire.

So far, they had only exchanged a few glances from time to time as they continued to wander along unfamiliar paths, waiting, yearning and hoping. Hoping that this meeting would bring them at least something resembling the happiness they had felt all those centuries ago.

#astarion fanfic #astarion angst #astarion x gn tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion x elf!tav #elf tav #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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blueiscoool · 1 year ago

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Vatican Experts Restore Ancient Gilded Hercules Statue Struck by Lightning

Scaffolding in a niche of the Vatican Museums’ Round Hall conceal from view the work of restorers who are removing centuries of grime from the largest known bronze statue of the ancient world: the gilded Hercules Mastai Righetti.

For more than 150 years, the four-meter-tall (13-foot-tall) figure of the half-human Roman god of strength has stood in that niche, barely garnering notice among other antiquities because of the dark coating it had acquired.

But it was only after removing a layer of wax and other material from a 19th-century restoration that Vatican experts understood the statue's true splendor as one of the most significant gilded statues of its time. Museum-goers will be able to see its grandeur for themselves once the restoration is finished, which is expected in December.

“The original gilding is exceptionally well-preserved, especially for the consistency and homogeneity,” Vatican Museum restorer Alice Baltera said.

The discovery of the colossal bronze statue in 1864 during work on a banker’s villa near Rome's Campo dei Fiori square made global headlines.

Visitors drawn to the ancient wonder at the time included Pope Pius IX, who later added the work to the papal collection. The statue depicting Hercules after he finished his labors had the last names of the pope — Mastai — and of the banker, Pietro Righetti, added to its title.

The inscription FCS accompanying the statue on a slab of travertine marble indicates it was struck by lightning, according to Claudia Valeri, curator of the Vatican Museums department of Greek and Roman antiquities. As a result, it was buried in a marble shrine according to Roman rites that saw lightning as an expression of divine forces.

FCS stands for "fulgur conditum summanium, a Latin phrase meaning “Here is buried a Summanian thunderbolt.” Summanus was the ancient Roman god of nocturnal thunder. The ancient Romans believed that not only was any object stricken imbued with divinity, but also the spot where it was hit and buried.

"It is said that sometimes being struck by lightning generates love but also eternity,’’ Vatican Museums archaeologist Giandomenico Spinola said. The Hercules Mastai Righetti “got his eternity … because having been struck by lightning, it was considered a sacred object, which preserved it until about 150 years ago.”

The burial protected the gilding, but also caused dirt to build up on the statue, which Baltera said is very delicate and painstaking to remove. “The only way is to work precisely with special magnifying glasses, removing all the small encrustations one by one,” she said.

The work to remove the wax and other materials that were applied during the 19th-century restoration is complete. Going forward, restorers plan to make fresh casts out of resin to replace the plaster patches that covered missing pieces, including on part of the nape of the neck and the pubis.

The most astonishing finding to emerge during the preliminary phase of the restoration was the skill with which the smelters fused mercury to gold, making the gilded surface more enduring.

“The history of this work is told by its gilding. … It is one of the most compact and solid gildings found to date,’’ said Ulderico Santamaria, a University of Tuscia professor who is head of the Vatican Museums' scientific research laboratory.

By Francesco Sportelli.

#Hercules #Gilded Hercules Mastai Righetti #Vatican Museums’ Round Hall #statue #gilded statue #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient rome #roman history #roman empire #roman art #long reads #Vatican Experts Restore Ancient Gilded Hercules Statue Struck by Lightning

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witchrog · 9 months ago

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As twilight surrenders to the deep night, the Moon, rising gracefully, begins its celestial dance, obscuring the majestic Regulus, as it reaches its zenith along the meridian. Blessed Full Moon!

Regulus (Alpha Leonis) is a quadruple star system and the brightest object in the constellation of Leo currently found at 00°09’ tropical Virgo, 05°06’ sidereal Leo. Regulus, latin "prince" or "little king," the Greek "Kardia Leontos" translating to the "Heart of the Lion'' stands as a beacon in the Leo constellation. Across civilizations, from Babylonian reverence as "Sharru" and "Lugal" to Persian recognition as "Miyan," the center of their cosmic quartet, Regulus commands attention. Its significance extends to the 10th Lunar Station, the "Brow of the Lion," ancient elections for matters of conquest, construction, childbirth, and healing.

Regulus, rules temperance, royalty, and victory. Its talismans, provide solace from sorrow, quell wrath, and bestow favor upon the wearer, as one of the most fortunate of the 15 Behenian stars. Elections with the Moon here were done for the destruction of enemies and the incarceration of captives, for the completion and fortification of buildings, for the ease of childbirth and the curing of infirmities. Virtue cannot be bought or stolen; it must be earned.

In his Three Books of Occult Philosophy, Agrippa says of Regulus talismans that they “make a [person] temperate, keep anger away, and give grace.” As the moon waxes towards its full splendor, though not in direct alignment with Regulus, it still traverses its Lunar Mansion, casting an ethereal glow over the night. And amidst this celestial spectacle, keen observers may catch a glimpse of Alphard, adding another layer of cosmic intrigue to the nocturnal canvas.

Photos from the web and dearest @orphicastrology

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tyklianzi · 5 days ago

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Hii love your translation to pieces! How have you been? Have you been reading/watching any other media (aside from TYK) recently that u would rec?

Hello! Thank you so much for your message! I'm kind of in the mud trenches rn but I am very happy to be remembered ❤️❤️❤️

I am going to ramble a lot so sorry about that and thanks for giving me permission to do so.

I would have a hard time putting together "recs for someone who enjoyed TYK", because I think it's an unusual type of story. It's about a protagonist who's so tired of being a main character (or even a secondary character). All he wants is to be a side character who enjoys himself and isn't important enough to get hit by plot shrapnel. I remember @specialability making the astute observation that TYK has a lot in common with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. What do side characters do, when the main characters aren't on stage? But TYK emanates joy that you don't find in the other existentialist stories I've read (which may say more about my own deficiency than the genre itself). Zhou Zishu is dying, but he finds a lot of happiness in spending every day exactly as he wants to. Taking care of Zhang Chengling, untangling the Glazed Spiral mystery, and messing around with Wen Kexing: this is all meaningful to him because it's how he wants to spend the rest of his life. However short that life may be.

That being said, since you gave me permission, I'm going to talk about what I've read recently!

One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcìa Márquez) left a really strong impression on me. I guess because the characters in the Buendía family (the novel tells this family's story) trap themselves into lives that they don't enjoy at all. Some of them live for a hundred years or more, but they never find the companionship and happiness that they crave. I wish I could say more about this story, but it really made me want to read more magic realism, and learn about Latin American history to understand the context.

I watched AMC's Interview with the Vampire and it ate my brain. One similarity between the Vampire Chronicles and Faraway Wanderers is that their television adaptations tore apart the source material to make something new. And I love what they did with Interview with the Vampire, because they kept what was so interesting from the books: the struggle between a vampire's murderous, predatory nature, and their moral sense as a sapient being. The show also makes explicit the parallel between this struggle and Louis' struggle with his queerness: should he live in hypocrisy, condemning his true nature even though he can't change it? Or should he abandon the moral scruples that (in his mind) connect him with his vestigial humanity? It makes sense to me, and I love the story of the show. There are some elements I miss from the books, but to me, the show surpasses the sum of its parts.

I'm currently reading Tolkien's Silmarillion! I guess one thread that unites the three works I've mentioned today is "unbelievably messy family drama". Which again, is notably missing from TYK...but it is one of my personal favorite ingredients. Elf aristocratic infighting goes off the chain like nothing else. The Silmarillion is a tragedy, you know? When you read the Lord of the Rings, you feel that the most spectacular days of this world have passed already. You see those splendors in the Silmarillion and know that they're doomed. It's a lot more gothic than I expected. I have to space out how much I read at a time. I've just started Beren and Lùthien, which promises to deliver something of a breather.

Sorry again for this massive wall of text. I love to chat. Come back again anytime. Haha!

#askbox

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fimproda · 4 months ago

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Elucien Week 2024 - Day 7: Tension/Healing

Read Splendor Solis on AO3

You little foxes at @elucienweekofficial knew exactly what you were doing when you chose to celebrate Elucien in the summer. And in the same week as my birthday, no less.

It seems fit, then, that I was able to overcome my almost one-year-long slump by writing an Elucien OS set in the Day Court.

For anyone who should stumble upon this post before reading Splendor Solis, stop now and open AO3, then come back here; I'll include a link in the end notes.

To those of you who have already read it, please hit the button that will show you the entire post and let me yap a little about what this story means and how it relates to Under the Stars.

First things first: the title. Splendor Solis literally means "The Splendor of the Sun" and refers to an omonymous alchemical text from the 16th century. I found out about it when I was researching the title of my upcoming Elucien longfic, which I eventually named Sol niger, "black sun". Since Splendor Solis is an illuminated manuscript, there's a handy little image of the black sun that suits this whole vibe just fine:

And also, you know, Day Court = sun. It's as simple as that.

Another Latin name in the story is Stella Maris, which is an epithet attributed to the Virgin Mary and means "Star of the Sea", referring to Her protection over fisherman and sailors.

(I'm pretty sure the church near the beach I'm writing this post from is dedicated to Maria Stella Maris, but I'm too lazy to check.)

In my fanon, Stella Maris is the name of the High Lord's palace in the capital of the Day Court. More on this in Sol niger — which, to be honest, could be said about the whole story.

Speaking of which, the reason why Lucien and Elain have a dog named Astra (derived from aster, "star" in Ancient Greek) will also be explained in Sol niger, as well as why Elain and Lucien had to go to the Day Court and how Eris finally came to be High Lord of Autumn.

Laoise — an Irish name pronounced "Lee-sha" — is, of course, the Lady of the Autumn Court. I chose Irish names for every unnamed Vanserra, since the Autumn Court is Irish/English-coded in my mind. Don't ask me why.

Splendor Solis is set, more or less, a decade after the events narrated in Sol niger. This timeline has allowed me to write about Elain and Lucien as an established couple, who have already overcome any and all major obstacles in their relationship and have, in one word, healed. Therefore, I think it's a fitting story for Day 7 of Elucien Week, even if it's more an introspective/worldbuilding piece more than something centered on Elucien themselves.

I put together every post I made about Sol niger under this link, if you're curious and would like to know more; I already had many occasion to talk about the Mediterranean elements (especially Italian, since I'm Italian myself) I decided to include in the story and use as basis for my worldbuilding.

Thank you so much for reading thus far! I'd love to hear your thoughts about all this 🥰

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itsagrimm · 1 year ago

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Writing Castles and Palaces

Every once in a while I see reverences of castles in writing with stories set there and characters frolicking through castle gardens. As someone growing up in a region with a castle on basically every bigger hill and at every corner, I would like to offer my support how to write stories in Castles and castle-like buildings:

Pick a place

Depending on the region and time the story is set in, the castle and its conditions will look very different. Castles or fortified buildings with some military or representative value are a near global phenomenon. So it's important to think of a place to set the castle in: is it a castle from Europe like the Tower of London? Is it a Castle like the one in Osaka, Japan? Maybe a fort in Africa like the Cairo Citadel or Chapultepec Castle in Latin America?

2. Pick a time

Castles changed a lot in their appearance depending on the time frame they are set it. In Europe the early medieval castles had a high military value and were an expression of feudal power. That meant those castles were not build to be comfortable but primarily military bases. Later post-medieval castles function more as representative palaces yet often get called Castles in English as well. Those types of Palace-castles tend to be more liveable but also often lack the militaristic purpose. Outside of Europe the time of the castle build also matters a lot. Is it a castle build by Locals? Is it Europeans with an imperial intend? Or is it some rich guy replicating a castle on his private island?

3. Pick a function

As aforementioned Castles changed a lot during time and space they are set in. But they also look very differently depending on their function. If it's a prison or holding a vault the Castle will look more intimidating and there will be very little regard for its living conditions except for possible guards or high value prisoners. If it's a military installation it will hold more comfortable living quarters for personnel as well as more workers to maintain the fighting force. And if it's a representative building like a kings castle then there will be a lot of pomp and splendor like elaborate decorative gardens, various buildings with entertainment purpose, plenty of nice living space for the higher class, and living quaters for the personnel. Obviously functions can overlap - a military castle can also serve as a prison, a representative Palace can also include military installations. If those functions are combined they affect the appearance and liveability of the castle so that needs to be kept in mind when writing those.

Medieval European Castles

To show you how time, space and function impact a castles conditions, I'll stick to European Castles bc that's what I know most about and bc I know those castles and can describe their feel.

A military Castle

Altdahn: build in the 13th century in Palatina-Rhine as part of the defense for the Diosese of Speyer. It is part of a group of castles surrounding the town of Dahn. The castle saw military action several times, got burned, rebuild and adapted a lot during its time of use. It also served as a family manor for the von Dahn family line however they relocated in the 15th century into a more liveable palace. Like most military Castles Altdahn had 2 courtyards and a belfry tower. Also it's always very cool up there in the rooms with wind and the massive stones making it very unpleasant to be in for a longer period. Since glass was expensive, it's likely than not all rooms had proper windows so in plenty of rooms it would have been cold or dark from closed window shutters. Living there must have been hell, especially in winter. So those who had the misfortune to be there all the time must have dressed up very warmly and likely picked every chance to get down into the town or were able to invest in the expensive logistics of constantly carrying up firewood up there as well as opting for expensive carpets and tapestry to add warmth. (picture below)

A prison Castle

Fort Königsstein: Most of its time in service the fort was used as a garrison, prison and vault due to being situated on a plateau high above the surrounding area. The fort is far away from bigger cities like Dresden and used to be somewhat isolated in the mountains before the building of modern infrastructure. It went through several changes over time to make it more palace like and nicer to live in. However, even the cultivated forest on the fort plateau served as a reserve in case of siege; the bleak stone walls and the massive entrance complex make the forts purpose as a militaristic and isolating prison abundantly clear. Königstein was known as an infamous prison during the reign of the Saxon kings and even after the end of the kingdom of Saxony in 1922 the fort held prisoners of war up until the end of WW2 in 1945. Depending of the part of the castle the feeling is pleasant to isolating and cold due to the wind and the thick stone walls. Also walking there from the next bigger settlement takes a while. (picture of Königsstein below)

A Palace-Castle

Castle Schwerin: While some form of fortification existed on this spot since the the 9th century as part of a Sorbian settlement, the castle in its now existing form hardly passes as a pragmatic military fortification. Remodelled from 1844 to 1857 it served as the main residence and representative Palace for the Mecklenburgian dukes and Grand-dukes. The Castle is in the middle of the town Schwerin and surrounded by grand gardens. Its previous fortified outer walls have been mostly removed. The Castle still has a courtyard and towers. Yet those do not serve any primary logistical or military purpose. The castle rooms were regularly lived in by the duke's family and serve now as the local parliament halls. It's very pleasant and warm inside with the castle being a more modern build and not as exposed to the elements. The throne room and ministerial offices were within the castle. The building includes enough space to house not just the family and its servants but also higher guests, their entourage and castle guard. The castle feels fairytale-eske because it's supposed to as a rich and pleasant representative residence for the feudal family right in the middle of the city. (picture Castle Schwerin below)

Honourable mentions of European Castle types and similar buildings:

Hunting castles - serve no purpose except to house hunting parties.

Fortified Churches - a Church that doubles as a military sanctuary in times of (medieval) need.

Monasteries - were sometimes fortified.

Villas and Manors - depending on the build they serve similar functions as castles. Often excluded when using the label of castle.

#grimmwriting #castles #writing #creative writing #könig #au writing #medieval #medieval europe #medieval castle #castle #burg #festung #fort

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mswyrr · 11 months ago

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I love this scene from Homicide: Life on the Street (from 2x04, "A Many Splendored Thing") and the surge in puritanical thought and purity policing language online keeps making me think about it.

BAYLISS: Tell me that you don't find all of this porno stuff, all this phone sex and S&M stuff, disgusting. PEMBLETON: Well, Bayliss, that's just the way of the world. It's been this way forever. When they dug through the ruins of Pompeii, they found, written on the walls: 'An vere fama susrrat grandia te medii tenta vorare viri.' It's a long, roundabout way of saying 'fellatio.' St. Ignatius High, New York City. Yeah, I had to do something to make Latin class interesting. BAYLISS: Granted, listen, perversion has existed since the beginning of time. Alright, we see it everywhere, but that doesn't mean that I am willing to accept that. PEMBLETON: Well, in any given ten square feet of this great country, there are people who think it's perverted for a person of your color and my color to sleep together. BAYLISS: No, Frank. I'm not talking about prejudice. What I'm talking about is kinky sexual acts. Dehumanizing acts between two human beings, alright. Sex is love. Period. This I believe. PEMBLETON: Oh, yeah right. So if a beautiful woman passes you on the street, you smile at her. Ooh, she smiles back. You're not thinking about marriage, you're thinking of her in a French maid's outfit. Bent over a straight back chair – BAYLISS: No, no, I don't. I don't think that way, Frank. PEMBLETON: Oh, well you're either a liar or you're a moron. If you're a liar, then fine. At least you've got a chance. But if you're a moron, then you're just a bore, y'know. I'm gonna have to take you out back and shoot you just to put you out of your misery. BAYLISS: Wait a minute. I don't think dirty so I can't understand the criminal mind. Is that it, huh? I mean….I…I…I don't want to kill someone, so I can't get into the killer's head, is that it Frank? I don't think about molesting some child so I don't how to investigate Adena Watson's murder, is that what you're saying? PEMBLETON: Then you really are a moron, aren't you!? BAYLISS: No, I'm not a moron, Frank! PEMBLETON: OK, let me tell you something. We're all guilty of something. Cruelty, or greed, or going 65 in a 55-mile-per-hour zone. But you know what? You want to think about yourself as the fair-haired choirboy, you go ahead. BAYLISS: Alright. OK, so, what're you saying, huh? PEMBLETON: I'm saying you got a darkness. You, Tim Bayliss, you got a darkness inside of you. You gotta know the uglier, darker sides of yourself. You gotta recognize them so they're not constantly sneaking up on you. You gotta love them 'cause they're part of you. Because along with your virtues, they make you who you are. Virtue isn't virtue until it slams up against vice. So consequently, your virtue's not real virtue, until it's been tested. Tempted.

Being terrified of one's own darkness/sins and eagerly seeking to live in denial about their existence is actually one of the ways that extremes of politics and religion capture people. (That and the disgust based morality Bayliss displays in this scene). That kind of obsessive purity is something I was raised with in fundamentalist Christianity. It doesn't lead to goodness; it leads to hypocrisy, lies, hiding and concealing and cultures of fear. It motivates people to actively prevent rather than support real goodness and sincerity and truth. It leads to people displacing and projecting their own darkness on others instead of having a healthy relationship with it.

#homicide: life on the street #quotes #my meta #purity culture #frank pembleton #one of my favorite characters of all time

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wheretheharekissesthefox · 7 months ago

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Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) – Chapter 4

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, graphic description of violence, non-con/rape, smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster, mobster AU

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

An explanation for the translation of Astarion's scars can be found here.

The poem's an original written by me and the fictional poet's name's inspired by my username.

(Coella comes from the Galician word "coello" (origins in Latin "cuniculus"), meaning "rabbit". Foxington is self-explanatory.)

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

"Why do you have Infernal written on your back?"

The question made Astarion tense up again and Gale feared he'd overstepped the boundaries.

The vampire spawn kept quiet for a moment, then he asked tentatively: "Infernal? Are you sure?"

"I mean, I haven't seen it yet, but I could swear I made out an Infernal letter with my fingers."

Slowly, Astarion sat up, his gaze intense.

"Would you... would you take a look at it and tell me what it says?" he whispered.

Gale understood that this was a big thing for Astarion, especially since he couldn't see himself in a mirror. He nodded and the vampire spawn, hesitantly, climbed off of his lap, and slowly turned around.

The scar was huge. It wasn't just one, but dozens of small ones that formed one big picture.

Gale frowned.

"It looks like a fancy letter."

At that, Astarion snorted.

"Well, my master called it a gift. A poem. But I've never seen it and I wasn't allowed, and therefore literally not able, to look at the scars mirrored at my siblings' backs."

"He did this to all his spawns?" Gale asked, his voice a dangerous growl. An intense wave of protectiveness surged up in him and almost made him shake in anger. Astarion nodded and pulled up his shoulders as if to make himself smaller. Gale wanted to comfort him, but knew the elf didn't like his back being touched. After a short pause for thought, Gale leaned in to kiss Astarion's shoulder before getting out of bed.

"I'll go and grab my dictionaries," he explained when he caught the elf's look of confusion. "I'm not fluent in Infernal, but that's definitely not a poem, but something like a contract."

Astarion looked shocked and Gale was convinced that if it had been possible, the vampire spawn would have gone pale. Hastily, the wizard threw on the robe that was hanging next to the bed, and rushed into the living room.

"Good morning, Mr. Dekarios. You have company, it seems," Tara greeted him, purring impishly. "It's time you finally move on from that Gods-awful woman and find happiness."

"Thanks, but not now, Tara," mumbled Gale while his eyes and fingers flitted over the hundreds upon hundreds of books.

"I beg you pardon!" hissed the tressym indignantly. "Don't talk to me that way! I deserve respect, and I only want what's best for you!"

"I know." Gale looked at her apologetically. "You have my sincerest apology, dear Tara, but right now, is not the time for such words."

With a sound of triumph, the wizard pulled the two dictionaries out of the bookshelf. Tara cocked her head to the side and asked, curiously: "What do you need Infernal translators for?"

"My guest has some... concerning scars on his back," Gale explained. "I'll help him figure out what they mean."

"Oh, my! That sounds dangerous," said the tressym, worried. "Don't play with fire, Mr. Dekarios, even if the flames look oh-so pretty."

The addressed hummed and nodded before walking back to the bedroom.

Astarion was where he'd left him. Sitting still like a marble statue. And the wizard was reminded of the fact that the elf was undead and didn't need to breathe.

Gale lifted his hand which held the books and sat down on the bed. Astarion looked intrigued and scared in equal measure. Which was understandable, really. The wizard opened the first dictionary, the bigger one, and mumbled: "Now, let's see..."

The message was... concerning to say at the least. It made Gale's skin crawl. He took another look at the sketch he'd drawn of Astarion's scars and cited: "'This lowly soul swears no oath by fire, lest these words be spoken, and this changes within the realm.'"

"What - what does that mean?" asked the vampire spawn and shuddered. "It doesn't sound good, that's for sure."

"As suspected, it's a contract," the wizard explained, "but only a fraction of it, if my theory's correct. And I'm confident that it is. The other spawns must have the rest of the contract on their backs and thus, all of you together, complete it."

"But why?" Astarion pondered aloud. "Why would he go to such lengths to - to - do whatever it is that he's scheming?"

"Maybe splitting the contract was part of the deal," Gale offered, "or perhaps your master wanted to make sure that nothing would go wrong, even if something happened to one of his spawns. He could simply replace them."

Astarion snarled angrily at the thought.

"We're not toys! We're not –" He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'll never be free of him, will I? Ca- My master will always own me in a way."

They remained silent until Gale handed Astarion the sketch.

"Here. I know my drawing skills aren't splendid, but it's better than nothing, I hope."

The vampire spawn took the paper and gave him a small, sad smile, and said: "Thank you, Gale. This is a gift, you know? I won't forget it."

He gazed at the sketch for multiple minutes, silent and still again. Gale, who could never just sit still and do nothing, started fidgeting and got up to stow away the books. With a deep sigh, he slumped down on the sofa and ran his hands through his hair.

What a mess...

"Uhm, darling? Could you close the curtains, please? I don't fancy bursting into flames," Astarion said, clearly trying to lift the mood.

Gale chuckled and uttered a spell. Immediately, the curtains shifted and the room was cloaked in darkness.

"Thank you, darling." Astarion slinked closer and placed his hands on Gale's chest. "I just realised that you never got your relief. Let me repay you, darling."

Without waiting for an answer, he dropped to his knees and parted the fabric of Gale's dark purple robe. Someone made themself known and the wizard jumped.

"Tara!" he squeaked, quickly fumbling his robe close.

"Who?" asked Astarion and it took him a second to spot the calico tressym that sat on the floor next to the kitchen door. The vampire spawn grinned. "Oh, hello, darling. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The addressed huffed and haughtily threw her head back. If cats could speak...

Astarion chuckled.

"Of course, Tara. Apologies," said Gale hastily and helped the vampire spawn back onto his feet. "Tara, Astarion. Astarion, Tara." He gestured between them, and then gave the elf an apologetic look. "She's hungry and demands her breakfast." In this moment, the wizard's stomach growled loudly, and he blushed a bit. "And uhm... so am I, it seems."

"Don't mind me, darling," laughed Astarion. "Go and eat your breakfast, I'm hot on your heels."

Gale chuckled and placed a kiss on the vampire spawn's cheek before he made his way to the kitchen. Astarion followed him at a leisurely pace, looking around curiously. The kitchen faced north, thus, he could enter without any problems.

It was a cosy, little room, filled with pots and pans, and herb bundles dangling from the ceiling, the smell of stew and fresh bread in the air. Astarion immediately like it here. He observed how Gale fed Tara, brew lavender tea, and devoured a homemade cinnamon bun. It was so absurdly domestic, it made the vampire spawn chuckle.

"'The world is small in these four walls,

with joy and laughter filling the halls.

Our world is reduced to our home,

on the shelves, tome follows tome,

the kitchen is well stocked,

that's the place we always flock

to warm up in front of the hearth

which is better than any cloister garth.'"

Gale smiled at him, an incredibly soft look on his face that made Astarion's heart ache.

"Beautiful, but you forgot the last line. 'The world is small in these four walls, with sympathy and love filling the halls.'"

"Oh, what would I do without you, darling?" teased the vampire spawn.

The wizard smirked and took another cinnamon bun while asking: "Who's it by?"

"Coella Foxington, the most beautiful Elven bard who ever lived. Allegedly."

Gale smirked around his pasty.

"Allegedly," he agreed.

Astarion spotted a painting on the wall and moved over to look at it. It showed Gale and an elderly woman. The vampire spawn immediately noticed the resemblance.

"Is this your mother?"

"Yes. Morena. My lovely, intimidating mother."

"You share a lot of similarities."

"That we do," smirked Gale. "It's almost a bit scary sometimes."

Astarion grinned and wanted to know: "Do you and your mother also share your taste in men?"

"I hope not," laughed the wizard. "As long as you aren't a lying, cheating bastard, we're good."

Astarion joined his laughter, but it sounded strained. Gale was too distracted to notice.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #lavender and starflower #mobster au #astarion x gale #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #tara #tara the tressym #mind the trigger warning #mobster monday #tara's an icon

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