#am i just making up all these difficulties and is it just my own stupid brain that's inventing things? Who Knows!!

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

how to not be overstimulated

[boreal-sea]

So something I realized watching a few videos and reading a few articles is that most of us aren’t angry at the idea of AI in general. Many of us are excited to learn about AI systems that can identify cancer better than doctors, for instance.

What we’re angry about is generative AI being used to destroy the jobs of artists (and I mean all creatives here), who have already been dealing with their work being devalued by modern society.

And I’m not sure how to deal with it. I do remember learning that when photography became a thing, many painters were horrified and terrified of would erase the art of painting. It didn’t obviously, and in fact photography because a whole new art form.

I grew up during the birth of digital art. I distinctly remember the phase digital art went through where many people declared it to not be “real art” and that it was “cheating” etc. I’m sure other millennial artists also remember this transition. But graphic designers pretty quickly adopted digital tools, and websites like DeviantArt popped up, and I don’t think there are too many people nowadays who would say a digital painting isn’t “art”. Still, I do imagine there is a gulf between how some people would view the “artistic merit” of a 3 ft tall oil painting hanging next to a 3 ft tall print of a digital painting, even if the subject and styles were similar. So the worries that digital art would erase physical painting was also proven false. And for the record, I think digital art is 100% art. The merit of digital art is equal to that of physical art.

On the other hand, I can’t say these changes didn’t affect older forms of art. Like, photography did affect the world of painting. I don’t have statistics, but it seems like it probably affected the world of portraiture the most. And I wonder if many of the 20th century art movements were influenced by photography. None of my art history classes touched on that and it’s kinda weird to me. There is definitely something about a Dada or cubism or surrealist painting that transcends beyond what a traditional photo of a landscape or a portrait can do. There is no location in the real world with actual melting clocks or people whose faces show multiple angles at once.

And then there was the digital photograph that changed everything again! Film has become a niche art form.

There were specific kinds of jobs lost due to the digital transition, too. I’m thinking of things like murals being replaced by printed banners, or book covers often being done in photoshop. Oh, and that’s another tool that was faced with fear: Photoshop! There was a fear it would destroy the need for professional photographers because everyone could just fix their own photos. Turns out nope, and in fact people skilled in photography and photo editing are still in demand. And of course there’s the loss of 2D animation in favor of 3D animation, the loss of practical effects for digital, etc.

And you might argue that in some of those cases people can tell corners are being cut and that they won’t stand for it, but Marvel movies still make billions of dollars so…

So I don’t know what’s going to happen with AI art. I am NOT saying “all current artists are stupid and wrong, in the future history students will laugh at how stubborn they were to resist this idea”. AI art is not comparable to photography or digital painting.

With a photograph, you still need to compose the image in the frame, you need to position yourself in the real world, you need to know your equipment, whether you’re using film or digital. You also need to know how to process that photo either in the dark room or in Photoshop. These are skills the average person does not have. You cannot tell an AI “that shot was good but can you increase the contrast?” It’ll just produce a completely new image.

I read an article about an art director who was encountering difficulties as the department tried to incorporate AI. They got back first drafts of art ideas from the people employed to work with the AI, gave critique, and the second round was just completely new images that didn’t include the suggestions… because they couldn’t. AI does not understand color theory. It does not have the ability to take critique. It can’t slightly alter the layout of a design.

And all of that applies to painting too. AI (currently) can’t do what a trained art student can do. It doesn’t know that to create a sense of atmosphere you should make distant objects bluer. It doesn’t know how to use human physiology and psychology to draw a viewer’s eyes across a large painting to reveal a story.

AI also can’t replicate INTENTION - and intentionality is a HUGE part of art. WHY an artist chose those colors, that medium, that composition, those tools, why they chose to display it a certain way, why the composition is like this instead of that - all of that adds meaning to the painting that you can’t get with AI.

(Yes, there is an absolutely valid field of art critique that evaluates a piece of art on its standalone value and the message it conveys without the context of the artist’s intent, but that should be compared to the analysis that DOES include the artist’s intent! That comparison can bring about so much understanding!)

Anyway I’m going to end this post now because it has gotten WAY too long. I focused mostly on painting and photography in this post because those are my particular fields of speciality, but this applies to ALL ART. It applies to music and writing and scripting and acting and composing music and just. Everything. All art.

I don’t think there are any forms of art AI doesn’t threaten. Now granted, AI can’t currently pick up a paint brush. It can’t use a crochet needle. It can’t hold a camera. And maybe there will be some sort of return to physical media in response to AI produced digital art. Or maybe there will be a response in digital art to stylistically distinguish it from AI in a way AI can’t reproduce. I’m not sure what will happen. Maybe some proof the image was digitally painted by a real person, somehow. Or that it’s a real photo, or a real article. I saw someone mention there may end up being labels like “100% human made” like we do for organic food lol. Maybe work in progress videos or photo metadata will become more commonplace as evidence of authenticity.

Anyway, NOW I’m ending this post. Whew.

[mrshesh]

thinking about "the distraught father adopting an orphan daughter" trope but with price and ghost :( like imagine, the reader is a younger girl in the task force, and she has kind of become like a daughter to them but they've never really disclosed it, and one day she just mutters "i love you, dad" to them (individually) :(( how do you think they'd react?

"i love you, dad." - simon "ghost" riley x reader

overview: calling simon "ghost" riley dad for the first time

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gender neutral reader, platonic

genre: fluff, angst

a/n: hi anon! i looooove this request :( i've actually been thinking of this exact scenario for sooo long! however, i couldn't really think of anything for price. so if someone can help me out by sending some ideas & headcanons to me privately, i will make a price version asap! and, as much as i love the father-daughter trope, i decided to keep this gender neutral, so everyone can feel included. i hope you love it.

TW! mentions of abuse and torture. proceed with caution.

Simon’s father was the devil personified. His dad is the epitome of evil to him, even more so than his captor, Roba. He cringes when he sees a dad and son being affectionate with each other in public - it pains him to think about what could’ve been, how he could’ve turned out. He knows most of his trauma stems from the abuse his father put him through, which has forever shattered the image of fatherhood in his mind. 

That is until you came along. 

Simon immediately felt drawn to you when you joined the Task Force. Being the youngest member had difficulties, yet you took it like a champ and kept toiling while still being so bright, colorful, and full of life. He admired that about you. 

He found himself worrying for you more than he liked. If you were reckless on a mission, he’d pull you aside and yell at you, scolding you for pulling such stupid stunts at the risk of your being. But after every talking-to, he’d give you a gentle pat on the head with shaky hands. “You need to be more careful, mate.” He’d mutter, feeling a pit in his stomach. Why does he care so much? And why does he feel the need to protect you? 

He would keep an eye on you at all times. He’d ensure nobody got too touchy with you and that everybody on base treats you with the respect you deserve. If he saw you getting mistreated, he would use his authority to punish the person hurting you. He would then turn to you, his eyes softening as he stares at you through his balaclava. “You tell me if anyone’s hurting you, alright?” 

The day Simon realizes he loves you like his own child is the day you open up about your past to him. At this point, you’ve known each other for a few years. 

He has always known that he has a special love for you, but he never came to terms with it until this day. 

When you tell him about all your painful experiences in life, he can feel his heart tear open and get shredded into millions of pieces. Regardless of what you’ve been through, his soul aches for you. That day was the first time Simon ever hugged you, and he vouched to care and be there for you as long as he was breathing. 

Today, you’ve had a difficult time falling asleep. Tossing and turning in bed can only get you so far, and the thought of drinking warm milk at this time makes you physically ill. You’re in the comfort of your room, but you don’t feel the amenity. You need someone to talk to. 

You know that Simon is usually up during this time - he who deserves sleep the most gets it the least. Insomnia’s a bitch. 

You decide to send him a text. 

You: “You up?” Read, 3:38 AM.  Simon: “Yeah. Why are you awake?” Read, 3:38 AM.  You: “Can’t sleep. Your sleeping habits have rubbed off on me.” Read, 3:39 AM.  Simon: “Welcome to my world.” Read, 3:39 AM.  Simon: “Is everything okay, though?” Read, 3:39 AM. You: “Yep. Just need someone to talk to, that’s all.” Read, 3:39 AM. Simon: “So you decide to text me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “I would’ve texted Johnny, but he fell asleep at midnight.” Read, 3:40 AM. Simon: “What’s so wrong with me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “You’re a grumpy, old man.” Read, 3:41 AM.  Simon: “Thanks, mate. 🐶” Read, 3:41 AM. You: “You’re welcome.” Read, 3:41 AM.  You: “Don’t worry, though. I like that about you.” Read, 3:42 AM.  Simon: “Not enough to be your first texting option.” Read, 3:42 AM.  You: “Don’t hyper-fixate on that, I’m begging.” Read, 3:42 AM.  Simon: “It’s funny.” Read, 3:42 AM. You: “It’s not. 🙄 It’s so boring I’m starting to feel sleepy, actually.” Read, 3:43 AM. Simon: “That’s good. Go to sleep, mate.” Read, 3:43 AM. You: “Yeah, might as well. You should sleep, too.” Read, 3:43 AM.  Simon: “I’ll try.” Read, 3:43 AM.  Simon: “Goodnight.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Night. I love you, Dad. ❤️” Read, 3:44 AM.  You: “Hold on, before you go! I have a question.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Hello?” Delivered, 3:50 AM.  You: “Simon?” Delivered, 3:55 AM.  You: “Did you fall asleep?” Delivered, 4:01 AM.

You sit in your bed anxiously, not knowing whether you fucked up. You know Simon had a rough past with this father, but you didn’t even think about that when you sent that text. You feel an instant regret wash over you, rereading your messages hundreds of times, hoping Simon will open them. 

Your spiral of uneasiness is interrupted by a hurried knock on the door of your room. You can hear breathing, almost panting, through the door - you immediately know it’s Simon. 

You walk to the door, hesitantly opening it, only to be met by Simon’s bare, tear-stained face, and the whites of his eyes have turned a bright red. You stare at him in shock, only stepping aside to let him in your room. 

You close the door behind you after he enters your accommodation, and you turn to look at him right away. Your eyes meet instantly, and you feel a cloud of shame pour down on you, coating you in an aura of grief. “I’m sorry.” You instantly whisper, and your own eyes sting. “I shouldn’t have… said that.” 

He doesn’t respond, only looking at you as if you’re the only matter in the universe. Everything else has become nonexistent - a vacuum. 

“No.” He sniffles, stepping closer toward you. He had a panic attack right after you called him dad - and you know it. “No.” He repeats, his tears spilling out of his eyes. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispers. He reaches out to you hesitantly, his trembling hands gently gripping your shoulders. He holds them there for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling. 

Before you know it, he pulls you into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck and weeping quietly into you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him cry. Ever. 

He’s stiff as he embraces you, his shaking body telling you everything you need to know. Your heart breaks for him, resulting in you biting back your tears - you’ve got to be strong for him. But you can’t.

You let your sobs fill the air, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close to you. 

You stay in each other’s embrace, pouring out your emotions for one another. You don’t even dare to speak until Simon has calmed down slightly, his breathing getting slower and softer. 

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, kid. More than you know.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, this is probably a stupid question but would it make sense/be accurate for an autistic character to have, like,,,,, normal facial expressions, at the correct time (like when they're happy or sad) like a neurotypical person? Without having to mask and intentionally force themselves to make those faces?

I'm autistic but I don't think I do this. I don't talk to people unless I absolutely have to and my memory is dogshit so I can't recall any times when people have commented on my facial expressions, and I definitely do make expressions sometimes, just maybe not in the right contexts or not very often.

I'm making a comic and one of the characters is autistic and very based on my own symptoms (she's the main character so since she gets a lot of screen time, I figured it would be easiest if I already knew how to represent her).

My reasoning behind wanting her expressive is:

There are already two other characters with autism who are pretty blank and expressionless.

It's a comic and I want to draw a lot of fun expressions, I want her to be able to smile softly and snarl and look baffled and make all kinds of faces, without her having to mask and constantly be miserable.

But my problem is that I want her to actually have autism. And when I look up posts online from other people, I'm really not seeing a whole lot of "Oh yeah I can emote and make facial expressions exactly like a normal person, in the correct contexts, automatically without masking."

So I'm not sure at this point if this is something we can even do? I've seen quite a few autistic people say that our brains literally do not work this way.

Maybe, would it be possible that she has the opposite problem most autistic people do? Most of us are sort of blank and expressionless and have to mask and make ourselves look happy/surprised/angry.

I thought that instead, she could be TOO expressive, so she would have the correct expressions at the correct times (looking angry when she's angry) but she wouldn't notice this, and would make the wrong expression at a bad time?

For example, if she was at a funeral and found something funny, she would unintentionally smile/scrunch her face up and everyone would get pissed because "Omg girl their grandma got killed by a dragon and you're laughing?"

So most autistics = masking to create expressions

But her = masking to remove expressions

I hope this makes sense It's midnight and I need to sleep lmao

Hi asker!

I just wanted to say that it is, in fact, possible for autistic people to be naturally expressive. A flat or flatter affect might be more common, and many autistic people mask to create expressions. But that doesn't mean all!

Me, personally, I'm autistic. I've been called expressive pretty often. I generally smile when I'm happy, frown when I'm pissed off, widen my eyes when I'm surprised – expressions you'd consider normal. This happens less often the more tired I am, and in my diagnosis debrief I was told that what I do that isn't normal is that I don't direct expressions to people: basically, that I don't use expressions to communicate with others, they just sort of happen. Which surprised me, because I saw communication as kind of a side effect of expressions as opposed to the main purpose, if that makes sense?

One of my adult family members is autistic as well. They are also very expressive, in fact kind of too expressive like you mention your character could be. They can't really hide the facial expressions they do (that generally correspond to typical expressions) and so can't really hide what they're feeling, even when it would be better to hide it. Their version of masking would be working to remove these expressions, which they don't actually do, but that would be the case.

That's two examples of people with autism that are pretty typically expressive, yet still show social/communication difficulties even in that. So: what you're describing is definitely possible.

As a side note:

Autism is two-fold: social/communication difficulties, and restrictive/repetitive behavior. Everyone who has autism experiences those two aspects. However, autism is also very varied in how these things present, so be wary of anything or anyone that says something (other than those two things) applies to either absolutely all or absolutely no autistic people. Sure, some presentations are more common – like a flat affect, or lack of eye contact, or how hand-flapping is a common stim. But no single presentation is universal. And on top of that, 'difficulties with social communication' doesn't have to mean 'difficulties with every single aspect of this.' It can! But it doesn't always.

Also, wow, I have typed the word "expression" so much that it barely seems like a real word right now!

– mod sparrow

[jahiera]

Please,,,, please more rambles about astarion and him healing and his slowly changing relationship with (-tav-) Sex and intimacy and choice and-

LISTEN BUDDY...

Okay gonna talk about the Grave Scene. this scene truly lives in my head rent free. I've been rewatching it a few times and every way it plays out is so touching. Especially the way he.. hmm... expresses himself here? There's such earnestness to him that frankly is unimaginable to the person we met in act 1. He really went from being both so sly & yet obviously lying ("[you trusted me...] an objectively stupid thing to do.") to someone who admits and lists the way Tav makes him... feel.... SAFE? and held? and I understand why it's not something a lot of people focus on but I actually am so heart-touched by how complex and intricate his journey to reclaiming sex and desire is at the end of this conversation. None of it is gratuitous. None of it is for show. The blending of the nonsexual intimacy, and openness (the grabbing of the hands, the showing of the grave, the raw admittance of so much vulnerable material he gives to Tav; all things he would never have even CONCEIVED of offering up in even act 2.)

("I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again." ... "With everything that life has to offer.")

It's an extremely nuanced and thoughtful approach to an SA survivor rediscovering & reclaiming what they want to make of their desires, their sexuality, in the aftermath of what was done to their bodies without their consent. It's so thoughtful & beautiful imo. Finally here at his grave, he tells Tav that they're someone he feels safe & accepted with, & he can experience intimacy on both sides with someone who has put forth the effort, the time, the willingness to learn and wait and watch and care for his own desires in a manner no one else EVER has.

("I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that.")

It REALLY... gets me in the heart here. It doesn't avoid the difficulties of sexuality in the aftermath of abuse, and it ultimately shows one individual's journey toward reclamation and reconciliation with autonomy on their own terms. That's so vital here, that he reaches out, chooses to make the step forward, HIS choice. There's no lingering gratuitously on the trauma, if that makes sense? the descriptions and vulnerability are raw; Tav is grounding person here, Tav gives him room to speak. The true balance of intimacy in verbalizing his feelings, intimacy in being close physically with Tav, intimacy in discerning for himself what he desires, intimacy in accepting touch, contact, affection, togetherness. It's all so... [BITES INTO FIST SCREAMING]. And the ending. Where he and Tav get to set off on another adventure. Get to explore who they are truly now, with each other, without any higher powers looming over and putting a yoke around their necks. I'm personally partial to the "finding a way for you to be in the sun," ending myself but all of them are just ... so delightful. He really SHINES in a way that exceeded my expectations so completely in act 3. he went from totally closed off and locked away and unaware of how to navigate his own personal relationships, no idea what a "relationship," even was, no idea how to express boundary or unravel his complicated ideas and feelings around his body, what it was forced to do for Cazador, to:

("For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.")

also laying a flower on his grave and all he says is "cute." but there's such a minor moment of tenderness there. I weep I wept I will weep.

[lovezbrownies]

(MYandere! Superhero x GN!Reader)

Masterlist

(Decided to make an oc strictly non-sexual, so he is asexual, I noticed I've been making a lot of sexual fics lately and wanted to change it up :) have fun! Also made my posts prettier )

Synopsis: You don't check the news often enough, so when civilians were warned against walking near or through a certain area you were none the wiser... Giving your stalker a chance to save you from doom.

Luminary x Reader.

Warnings: Mentioned stalking, kidnapping, not edited at all :(.

You had a routine. Get up bright and early for your 7 AM office job, get to work, come home at 2 PM, relax for 2 or so hours, then go out for a short walk at the park near your apartment. You never really deviate from your usual walking pattern, yet today you felt adventurous– Ironic, of all days to be adventurous and wander off to a new path that same exact path ends up being infested with blood-lusted slime creatures from the dark abyss of this world.

Obviously you thought something was off but you just could not put your finger on it! Sure it was creepy how as you kept walking the area got quieter, lonelier, darker, but you just thought that there was some superhero nearby and everyone wanted a picture with them, that has happened before. Or maybe today just wasn’t your day, your natural ‘hey this feels dangerous let’s turn back’ system may be experiencing some difficulties… And now you find yourself running faster than you have ever run in your life. Leaping away from the hungry monsters attempting to catch you and devour you.

These slimy demons had popped up a few decades ago, a few years after the sudden appearance of super humans. No one knows where either came from, how they sprung, or the exact science behind their sudden appearance. But now they’re here, not a lot of people get blessed with super powers, and those who do immediately get enlisted, either by their own will or their parents force them to when they’re young. Some people don’t enlist even with superpowers, some people have such rare superpowers that they’re forced into the work field, those people mostly being healers and supernaturally intelligent people.

You were none of those, a normal average human, with a normal average job, and a normal average routine. And here you were, endangering your life, for your stupid physical health. Not like you’d have any of your physical health after this, you’re going to be in a monster’s stomach in about 5 minutes. You already were slowing down, the constant zig zagging decreasing your stamina fast. Looking back at the monsters chasing you.

What you didn’t expect was to stumble over an exposed cable, falling flat on your face, your ears start ringing, blocking out the noises of your own panting and whimpering as well as the monster's evil noises. You immediately huddled into the fetal position, as if it would minimize any of the tormenting pain you’ll be feeling soon but… nothing, no ripping of the skin, no crushing of the bones, no hearts being slowly devoured by evil monsters. None of it. 

Yet you kept your eyes clenched shut, maybe the monsters are confused with your stupidity that they just stood there processing before they finally have at it. Slowly the ringing in your ears subsided, and you heard nothing, no growling monsters or anything, nothing other than your own panting, as well as… footsteps? The sound of a sly chuckle startles you, causing you to crack open your eyes and you were greeted by the shining bright smile of the world famous superhero, Luminary.

Luminary– A man of unnaturally strong power, he was invincible, untouchable. You liked him enough for saving the city many times before but didn’t really idolize him, superhero or not he still was a human with human emotions, whatever people say about him online can still affect him. So you kept to yourself when it came to superhero affairs. But from the short snippets you’d see online you had a lot in common with him, shows, interests, hobbies. You always thought that it was all a carefully crafted lie to make him seem more relatable to the average plebeians, or whatever who knows.

You were star struck, ironically enough you wanted to act normal around him but you couldn’t even form words. Luminary’s shining smile still pointed towards you. He held out his hand, intending for you to grasp at it and use it to steady yourself up. “Hello there! I take it you haven’t seen the news this morning, huh? Haha! No worries, your trusty hero is always there to save you.” You just sat there gaping up at him, the personal embodiment of a star. 

Maybe it was the exhaustion, the shock, or the superhero in front of you, but you fainted, completely collapsed, thankfully you didn’t hit your head since you were already lying down.

Luminary had watched you run for your life from the creatures earlier. But he couldn’t care less of them, his eyes were on you, the person he’s had a crush on since the 11th grade, you never knew of his existence but he didn’t care, he’ll eventually weasel his way into your life but right now he’s content on stalking you. Or so he thought, until you endangered your life and almost got yourself killed when you tripped.

Seeing the once in a lifetime opportunity to weasel his way into your life. Luminary picked you right off the dirty ground, his heartbeat accelerating, every little part of you he touches feels like electricity. Years of one sided obsession and just now is he making contact with you, practically committing himself to abstinence just for you. Luminary felt like a schoolgirl as he giggled at the sight of you resting your head on his shoulder.   Luminary’s flight home was delightful, you smelt amazing, and you even snuggled into him in your sleep! He could just explode! Once he entered his humble abode, Luminary placed you on his bed, his eyes practically turning heart shaped at the thought of late night cuddles with you…

[drtanner]

God. I'm pissed off again and you're all going to hear about it.

Some of you may know that I'm finally in a position to get my top surgery done on the NHS. I've been on their waitlist for a full year and it's finally my turn! But god, they're being asses about my BMI.

Some context: If you're trans, you can get top and bottom surgery on the NHS, but they have some really strict rules about BMI. Most top surgeons and all surgeons who perform bottom surgery require your BMI to be below 30. A few top surgeons will take you if your BMI is below 40, but you'll have to travel to see them and appointments are limited and hard to get. Over 40 BMI and you've got no options. The stated reason for this is that it's supposedly harder to get good results if they have to excise too much fat during the surgery. I'll let you decide how plausible that really is.

My BMI is a little over 40, by about 3.5kg, so not a huge amount. My fat percentage is a bit under 34, so it's not that I'm terribly fat, I just have a lot of muscle and very heavy bones! The surgeon himself - as well as every other medical professional who sees me - was surprised at how heavy I am given my size when he examined me last year and took Before pictures. My upper body is actually very lean and they know this because they've seen me! However, they're still being shits about my BMI, because BMI doesn't discriminate between muscle and fat, or how broad someone is, or how heavy their bones are or anything else, and apparently that's the only metric they go by. I've always had difficulty losing weight, probably because there really isn't that much to lose, so being told that I've now got to find a way to lose at least 3.5kg by October or have my surgery date pushed back isn't ideal and I'm getting really strung out about it. I've spent most of the last 15 years trying to get my BMI down without losing the muscle I worked so hard to build up or cut my leg off with fuck all success. I've been stable at my current weight for most of the last decade but now I have to figure out how to drop down to 121.5kg within three months.

The amount of hoops one has to jump through to get access to any kind of trans healthcare is absolutely ridiculous, a direct result of all the stupid handwringing about "permanent, irreversible surgeries!!!" and so on, as if I can't make choices about my own body.

Only, all of this bullshit about my weight and my BMI reminded me of something else: About ten years ago, when I was also getting shit about my weight (again, despite not being terribly fat, just heavy!), I got referred to a weight clinic. After seeing dieticians and being put on a drastically restricted calorie intake to no avail, I got shuffled off to the weight clinic, where they did the same blood tests that my GP had done before she referred me, saw that they came back normal again, unsurprisingly, and then promptly offered me bariatric surgery.

This was presented as the only treatment they were able to give to help me with my weight loss, to cut out part of my stomach and staple it back together to make it much, much smaller, because they didn't believe me when I told them I was controlling my diet. Like, oh yes, you say you aren't overeating all the time, but just to make sure you can't eat too much, we're going to make your stomach tiny so that you physically cannot fit food into it anymore. I've never heard anything good about bariatric surgery from anyone who had it. Every story is a horror story, from people who can't eat without stomach pain anymore, or keep down anything heavier than soup anymore, or who suffered through all of this only for what little weight they lost to come back in a few years' time. That was the only help they were willing to offer me.

I got up and left, and didn't go back again after that.

So, contrast these two situations. On one hand, I'm grappling with the NHS over my top surgery for entirely stupid reasons because it's ludicrously difficult to access any kind of trans healthcare, but especially surgeries, because they're "permanent and irreversible!!!" and "you might regret it!!!!" or whatever. Meanwhile, they couldn't throw bariatric surgery at me hard enough, just because my BMI was high. Is cutting out a huge piece of my stomach to make it smaller not "permanent or irreversible"? Might I not regret that? Especially when there's no guarantee that it would achieve the desired result at all? I know what I'm likely to get from the top surgery, but somehow that's the one nobody wants me to have.

Anyway, sorry about the long post. It's a fucking dogshit situation and I'm fucking sick of it.

[anneapocalypse]

I have really complex feelings about the idea (often implied or tacitly agreed to be true even when it's not stated outright) that realism in sex scenes (and specifically sex scenes in fanfiction because that's what I'm thinking about) is always preferable and desirable. That it's always better to be more realistic, and any kind of unrealistic or fictionalized portrayals of sex are inferior--or in some cases, worthy of contempt and an indication of the inexperience/immaturity/poor writing skills of the author.

I have mixed feelings about it because I do think there's a place for realism. There are things that add realism to sex scenes that I really enjoy. I enjoy watching certain characters communicate their desires and negotiate activities. In some scenarios I like seeing characters employ safer sex practices like barriers. I will always enjoy when an author takes the time to figure out a form of lubrication that's appropriate and believable in the setting! I can even enjoy when a character gets up to pee after sex before returning to bed to cuddle; it's a very human touch to the scene that can itself be comforting and enjoyable to read. I like it when people who have experience with certain types of sex create helpful guides to writing those things, offering details you might not think of or know about if you haven't had that type of sex. It gives authors more to work with! It's a tool. Realism is a tool, and one that can absolutely enrich scenes and make them more interesting and fun to read.

And at the same time, something really does rub me the wrong way when I see posts that express contempt for a realism gap in fanfiction and imply that anyone writing it that way must be a) stupid, b) inexperienced (while kind of implying that writing about sex when you haven't had sex is inherently a problem, which I object to fundamentally), and c) completely unaware that what they're writing isn't realistic, which kind of points back to A. It's less on the nose than it would have been like ten years ago, when a lot more people were willing to just come right out and mock "stupid girls writing stupid fanfic" (and all the assumptions that go along with that) but still... that tone lingers. I won't even get into some of the smug posts that used to circulate about anal sex that ended up coming across as "don't you know anal sex is GROSS" in a way that was kind of lowkey homophobic, intentionally or not. Nor am I going to get into the prevalence of queer people telling other queer people they're doing queerness Wrong (in fanfiction, in original writing, in life in general).

To bring a personal angle to this, I'm a nearly-40-year-old bisexual cis woman, married and monogamous, chronically ill, and with some lifelong undefined sensory issues that I don't have any kind of diagnosis for so I'll just call them that. For me personally, due mostly to sensory issues and some physiological quirks, sex can take a lot of energy. Sometimes it's just a lot of work! That doesn't mean I don't want it or enjoy it, or that my partner is failing in some way; I have an active and fun sex life with a very thoughtful and caring partner (and I am not looking for advice on this post, so let's not get sidetracked). There's just challenges! And sometimes I wish my own body made it easier!

So sometimes, when I'm writing smut which is definitionally for fun and primarily for me and my own enjoyment, I find myself caught between: do I want to make this character's experience of sex very realistic in a way that's relatable to me? or do I just want to indulge in the fantasy of sex being easy and low-effort?

At this very moment I'm having difficulty answering that question about some things! There's pros and cons to both, and I don't think either one is wrong. Because at the end of the day, my own enjoyment is the goal of this piece of fiction. It's self-indulgence either way. No matter what I write, these pixel people I'm writing about are not real and their sex scenes are still a fantasy. It's just a question of what kind of fantasy I want to indulge in.

There was a good post I saw recently about the fact that a lot of problematic tropes are problematic not inherently but by scale--in other words, because their prevalence reinforces ideas and narratives harmful to specific groups. And I will be the first to acknowledge that even in the realm of fanfiction--a sphere with relatively low impact on the culture at large--it can be frustrating to constantly run into the same tropes that we find unrelatable or just plain unenjoyable, whether it's rigid top/bottom roles or easy vaginal orgasms. I don't want to come across as like, scolding anyone for just being annoyed, or venting about that sort of thing. It's fine. Some people's forms of self-indulgence are irritating to me, and my self-indulgence is undoubtedly annoying to someone else. I also want to reiterate that talking about what is and isn't realistic in the context of fiction is fine and good and there's absolutely a place for it, and that I enjoy a lot of elements of realism in fiction. I just also want to leave room for fiction to be fantasy. I think that's okay. And everyone's gauge for just how much realism is enjoyable is going to be different. I think that's fine too.

[t0ast-ghost]

Episode 30 (Operation Annihilate) WE MADE IT! Though I had a bit of difficulty with this post because they fucking deleted my draft and then brought it back. For no goddamn reason.

Here we go:

- Kirk is staring straight into the sun

- As always kids when avoiding things in space, go to the left

- JIM HAS A BROTHER???!???

- Yelling at Uhura will get you a punch at most Jim. If she can’t do something about the comms then no one can

- It looks like a college building. Imagine going to college and you see the landing party just appear like that

- “They tried to brain us with these clubs.” Brain you?? Yeah, Jim?

- Spock and McCoy being there for Jim after his brothers death

- Aurelan’s fucking SCREAM (props to that actress)

- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT FUCKIN THING

- IT FUCKING BIT SPOCK. Kirk is losing everyone today...

- McCoy looks so concerned for Spock while operating on him

- As soon as Spock gets on the bridge he pushes McCoy lol

- “These restraints will no longer be necessary. Neither will your sedatives, doctor.” Spock says this with the most pain in his voice, McCoy just crosses his arms and gives him a look like 'nuhuh'

- “I am a Vulcan… There is no pain.” No gain but seriously I can hear it in your voice- damn there goes the restraints

- BADASS SCOTTY MOMENT YEAH

- Bones is fucking furious. He wants to help Spock but the only way he can do anything for him is to have him rest in sickbay

- As soon as Spock is within arms reach of Bones again, he’s scanning him

- gentlemen.. what is this

- “I understand your concern. Your affection for Spock.” Why don’t you just call him out then, Bones. Takes one to know one.

- The fact that Kirk found the answer and that it was fucking light. If I were McCoy or Spock I’d be pissed off

- Continuing on that… what is this???

- “Do you know what one million candlelight square inch can do to your optic nerves?” He asks this like ‘are you stupid?’ But it’s full of care cause he thinks it stupid that Spock is going to sacrifice himself

- Bones is so so worried I can’t I can’t what

- Everything Bones does to try and get Spock out of it is that he gives Spock the chance to get out himself, tries to give him goggles, makes a frowny face the whole time, says that Spock is the best first officer (he shouldn’t be put in danger), he bargains with Jim a bit, and he still has to do this :(((

- aheem

- “Uh Oh.” WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN UH OH, MCCOY

- Don’t be mad at Bones you bitch, that decision was just as much yours as it was his. I swear to god they all fucked up but holy crap he’s feeling terrible already

- They’re gooping. (edit: I don't know what this means anymore)

- “Bones, it wasn’t your fault. Bones. Bones.” Kirk comforting McCoy. It’s so tense and it breaks my heart. They won’t be truly fine until Spock is fine.

- “We tend to ignore it as you ignore your own appendix.” Good line and I'm glad Spock is okay now but also that's so so convenient

- And now: The last couple minutes of conversation between Kirk, Spock, and McCoy that had me squealing and giggling

Kirk walks over: Mr Spock, regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I presume, felt nothing.

Spock: Quite the contrary, Captain. I had a very strong reaction. My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy bending over me.

McCoy: Hmm, ‘tis a pity brief blindness did not increase your appreciation for beauty, Mr Spock.

Kirk (as if he didn’t start this): If you gentlemen are finished, would you mind laying in a course for Starbase 10, Mr Spock?

Spock: My pleasure, Captain.

McCoy while leaning against Kirk’s chair: Unusual eye arrangement. I might have known he’d turn up with something like that.

Kirk: What’s that, Doctor?

McCoy: I said, please don’t tell Spock that I said he was the best first officer in the fleet.

Spock turns around dramatically: Why, thank you, Dr. McCoy. (Spock gives him the raised eyebrows)

This episode is so…

Masterpost

Episode written by Steven W. Carabatsos

[reasonsforhope]

Thank you, stranger, for making this blog. You are truly a kind, beautiful soul. Thank you for existing for the world. Many of us appreciate you!!!! Thank you!!!!! /vvvvvvvgen

...now to me. I'm sorry for adding for your huge askbox as is, genuinely...

I naturally, without thinking, don't act like my real personality because it's been shunned dozens of times across my entire life. It's not fundamentally flawed (I know that, 100%--we all have flaws, ad I absolutely wasn't a terrible person for expressing them). Nonetheless, all I know is that the person I act like everyday of my life since I finally snapped and started doing this whole thing two years ago -- almost three -- is not who I really am. You know when you put on a shoe that, while your foot can fit inside and you can walk around just fine, you know it's just not your size because it doesn't feel right at all? That's me and my "personality"...people thought I was weird when I showed my genuine personality. I was just...pretty different than most. some comments I've got on my old personality:

"You're ...... Weird." (said with a thinly hid derogatory tone)

"Stop. You're not one of us."

"Why are you talking like that?"

"Sensitive. No one likes you."

And the one that finally made me snap:

"Stupid." (the person who said this then continued top he conversation as normal. Not acknowledging my stunned reaction.)

In addition, for a couple months I got treated like a dog. A literal dog.

I basically got treated like an outcast.

I know the personality I've left buried for so long has grown on its own, with me. It wasn't totally neglected and in fact is still here. It's just hidden behind this mask...which I can't take off. Because I literally don't know how. It's become such a habit to be someone else that I don't even fully, consciously know who I genuinely am today...it's hard. I hurt. A lot. I'm terrified of being vulnerable in any way, now. Just curled up in a shell.

...what am I to do? Where am I even going to begin? I feel lost. All I know, in the depths of my heart, that there is hope. There is always hope yet. That is something I've always known.

So what now? I'm scared, tired, and unsure. Is there anything I can do, anymore, at all? To figure out, and then be, who I know I am, deep down?

Thank you for reading, if you did. From the bottom of my heart--thank you. Thank you.

Sincerely,

#🎈🌠🐘

<3 <3 <3

Thanks so much <3 And fwiw for anyone wondering, it's not HUGE huge, I've got like 45 asks and dms to get to, but it still feels pretty big for me, a person who has def never had that happen before. Hoping to try to answer a batch of 2-4 of them on the weekends

Also, in terms of the rest of it.... Sorry if I'm overstepping, and definitely not to do that "diagnose people over the internet shit," but have you ever looked into whether you might be autistic or some other flavor of neurodivergent. Because as an autistic person, I see a Lot of my own experiences in what you've written

Regardless of whether you have or not, and whether you're autistic or not, I definitely know what it's like to deal with that kind of shit and bullying, and how trying to mask your own differences can twist you up inside. I had a problem with compulsively lying for a while in high school because of how ingrained "covering for myself" became - so I get how unsettling it feels when this shit becomes something you can't consciously control

Because there's so much overlap, I'd actually recommend looking into books and resources from the autistic community in masking and the difficulty of unmasking, regardless of whether you're autistic or not. A lot of the traumas are similar, too, so if you're at that level of "burying," I really think you'll be able to get something out of it no matter what

(This applies to anyone reading this who has also had to deal with that kind of shit or has found themselves doing something similar.)

Also, you should definitely look into trauma work (and "complex PTSD") and see if there's anything helpful to you there--there's a lot of really effective, evidence-based stuff out there about how to untangle your nervous system, because that kind of social rejection and isolation is absolutely/inherently traumatizing

Some Resources

Masking stuff:

Seven Steps to Unmasking as a Neurodivergent Person

What Is Complex PTSD (C-PTSD)? from Healthline

Autism Masking: To Blend or Not to Blend from Healthline

This is an assessment for social masking. It's written about autism, but I think a good amount of it would be applied to other types of masking like this.

Trauma stuff:

What Is Rejection Trauma? from TherapyMantra

Healing from Rejection Trauma from CPTSDFoundation.org

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk

What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma by Stephanie Foo

And if none of that helps you...there's definitely a lot of other stuff out there. There's things like journaling, which are a huge help with this sort of thing. Figuring out who you are underneath it all takes time and feels super weird and it's not easy, but I have faith you can do it. Don't give up, just keep moving forward

[yuymayd]

I know, probably, nobody will read this, but I NEED to say this somewhere. I just despise how people treat both Yang and Ruby and their development throughout the show. It almost looks like people are not watching the same cartoon as I am. Also, the fact Ruby and I have a very alike household and story of life makes everything hit stronger to me. So, I will make a small analysis of some aspects of Ruby and Yang throughout the series based on my pov and on the information we were given by the series.

After Summer left and ended up dying during her mission, everyone was crushed in pieces. As we saw in Red Like Roses part II, Ruby always had the feeling her mom would not come back home someday. To a little kid, waking up and getting to know that your worst fear turned up to be real is devastating, especially when it comes to losing someone that it's the glue of the house and is your mom. After that, Tai was so broken that he couldn't even be a functional father and Yang, who was also a kid, had to pick the responsibility of taking care of Ruby. In my vision, both Yang and Ruby blamed themselves from all of this bad situation, one thinking that because of her Summer left them and the other trying to compensate all the time for being a "burden" to others. In their household, it looks like everyone didn't use to talk about their feelings or about everything that has happened (as we saw Yang and Tai arguing in the volume 4). With all of this, it's crystal clear why Ruby and Yang have so many difficulties in talking about their struggles and their difficulties.

Ruby always felt like she was a burden to other people (and I think it's because she feels guilty that Yang had to kinda put her need before her own and she blames herself for Summer's d3ath), so she tried so hard to be the best leader and to make the best choices, but EVERYTHING was crumbling and, with more and more choices to make and with all of the weight of the world on you shoulders because everyone is counting on you, she started to lose herself and feel like she's incompetent. She truly felt like she had no value and that she was completely alone. Since the beginning, she wasn't the kind of person that would ask for help when she was struggling (she tried to figure it out by herself) and, with the situation getting more complex, she had the feeling she needed to do everything on her own. When they were in Ever After, all of her trauma hit her like a truck: the absence of her mom; Penny having one moment of living like a human and, just after that, her life ended because she needed to pass the powers; the weight of her choices, including the people who died in the middle and all of the destruction it caused; and all of her mistakes. Everything was too much for her to handle and she felt like she failed to everyone. Thinking about all of this, it makes sense why she was so broken and why she didn't have hope for things to get better. To everyone saying she was being selfish, she was not. She was really having her first real mental breakdown in her life. In this kind of moment, everything is extremely intense and it's sooo hard to see that there are people who you can rely on by your side. She's just a girl who has to fight in a very unfair battle she didn't ask for.

Now, about Yang. I've seen people from the fandom saying she is not really intelligent or even calling her stupid, but she's everything but those things (of course she can act silly and be goofy, but she's not dumb). Yang grew so freaking much when it comes to fighting and she thinks a lot before making some decision, even on battle or in her private life. This girl tends to bottle up her feelings and she puts all of her teammates and other people before her. She would sacrifice herself without even thinking twice because she cares more about other people's well being than her own (and this is something I would love to see being discussed in the next volumes). I think she does this because, to her, it's better to lose herself than losing people she loves (almost thinking she's replaceable). And, I mean, she had to sacrifice a lot of stuff for other people's sakes, especially for Ruby. Being a young kid and having to parent your younger sibling can change the way you see everything and even you own self worth. To everyone who said she doesn't care about her sister, please, watch the last three volumes again. She asks Ruby a couple of times if she was okay and, when Ruby made the theory about what happened to their mom, Yang pulled herself together after sobbing a little and pulled Ruby into a hug, trying to comfort her little sister instead of letting all of her emotions out. If Ruby doesn't talk to Yang what's wrong, she cannot do anything about it, she doesn't have a crystal ball to tell her what's happening with other people. Yang always showed to be someone reliable and tried her best to tough for everyone else's sake. Don't say she's a bad sister when she isn't.

Well, this was just my small rant about these two sister I love so much! I have more things to say about this but I think the rest is more projection :') and I'm too tired to write more hehe

[thatstupidpotato]

JUST A MOMENT

Shuri x reader

idek what this is but eh right :)

also this will all be in reader's pov.

i apologise for the grammar :" but enjoy:)

It was getting dark as i walk slowly. She was walking infront of me. I looked at the ground, trying to think of something to say, something that wouldn't make me look like an idiot. But then again, i decided that i should just stay quite not wanting to have an awkward conversation with her. I was pulled out of my chain of thoughts when she stopped and looked back at me. 'Can you please walk a bit faster?' I just stare at her awkwardly before nodding and walking fast. Working together meant having to spend time together as well. We were just returning home after meeting Riri. I excused myself and walked out after wishing her a good night and Shuri followed after me and we started walking home together. She was my best friend and then something more but things didn't work out so we went back to being best friends. We had been together for almost a year before we decided to break it off.

She said 'I don't really think we're working out.. It'd be better if we're just friends right?' I couldn't tell her anything. I just stupidly nodded my head. And that was it. The end of us. I couldn't tell her that i didn't wanna break up that i didn't wanna be alone but i couldn't bring myself to say those words. We could never go back to being the stupid best friends that we once were. She always walked me back home whenever we were out and she said that it was a habit now. But never once after our break up did we have a single conversation walking back home and today was not any different. She would be walking all on her own as I would too.

We were just walking side by side. Our hands awkwardly brushed against each other. My heart was racing, and i didn't know if it was because of her or if it was because i was trying to desperately keep up with her long legs. 'Wait,' she says. I look at her confused as she walks towards the edge of the sidewalk and takes out her phone, talking pictures. She was a good photographer and really good at everything she did. I felt kind of stupid just standing there looking at her, so i started walking. After a little while, i look back to see that she was still there, so I stop and just stand there looking at her. I looked at her for a while before quickly looking away, not wanting to be caught. I couldn't help it, so i looked back at her again, only to see that she was already looking at me with her phone held up, ready to snap a picture of me. I looked at her weird, and she gave me that smile. That damn smile that fucked me up in the first place. I couldn't help but blush. She walks up to me with that same smile still plastered on her face 'Let's go' and then with that she walks infront of me again. I kept looking at her trying to sort out my feelings. What is it that i feel? Why am i feeling this? Am i still in love with her?

She turns and raises an eyebrow, 'Come on stupid, we'll be late.' I walk up to her as she waited for me to catch up to her. We walk in complete silence, and no matter how much i tired, i couldn't calm my heart from racing. And at this point, i knew that it was because of her. At some point of time, she noticed that I was having difficulty trying to keep up with her, so she slowed down her pace for me. That little gesture made my heart skip a beat. I don't know if she could feel it, but there was this weird tension around us. The kind of tension that makes it hard to breathe. And on top of that, our hands keep brushing against each other. I was about to tell her that i could go home alone from here, but she must have also noticed the tension because i felt her slide her hands down mine before intertwining them together. She had this habit of stroking my thumb whenever we intertwined our hands together, and the last time she ever did it was moments before she broke up with me. I look at her with wide eyes only for her to look at me with those soft eyes that hold so much love and sadness. She gave me a bittersweet smile before slowly blinking twice and tapping my thumb three times. It was our own little gesture that meant so much to the both of us. I am in love with you and nothing will ever change that.

I honestly did not know what to say to her, so i just looked away with tears in my eyes, and we continued walking. Because i knew that once both of us would be in the warmth of our comforts, we would forget this ever happened. We will continue the rest of our lives pretending this meant nothing. Pretending that we are not two dumb people who are in love with each other and will be for the rest of our lives. We will just always steal glances at each other when we think that the other isn't looking. We will grit our teeth as we see the other move on with someone else. We will cry ourselves to sleep because of what we can't have and what we could have had. We will always be the broken people who know nothing but that we love each other so fucking much that it hurts. We will bury this memory deep in our hearts and never look back at it again. But for now at this moment with our hands intertwined together we will be nothing but safe. I know that i will love her for the rest of my life and i know she will too. But for now this is all we need. For now just a moment is all we need.

______

this is all :>

[dujour13]

During my little holiday I wanted to get back in touch with my main muses and wrote some Act I stuff, just messing around with a different kind of pacing. I might insert it into L&C but it would take some retrofitting so just throwing it out here while I decide.

Warning - it's long, 2000 words under the cut. No one is under any obligation to read this 😂

Cross-legged on his narrow bed in the Defender’s Heart, using his flipped-over guitar as a writing desk, Siavash sat staring into the distance. The last few dozen letters he’d written to Kristov had ended up in the fireplace instead of the post, tearstained and torn up for shame. He didn’t even know how to open this one. “Dear Kristov” was too cold, “My dearest” worse, and no diplomatic training could prepare him for how to break terrible news to an ex he was supposed to be over. Tears of grief, frustration and no small measure of self-pity burned his eyes as he restarted for the third time.

He pressed his thumbs to his eyes and asked himself once again whether he really needed to write personally, knowing even as he did that there was no getting out of it. The Ambassador’s attaché had been a good friend to both of them; surely letting Kristov find out about her death without a word from him would be cruel. Yet every time he set pen to parchment he caught himself wanting to spill his whole heart.

I don’t understand why everyone’s dead and I’m not. I’m wounded and it won’t heal. Demons have besieged the city. It’s cold in Mendev and all they drink is terrible beer. I’m alone. I’m scared.

I miss you.

Maybe what he really missed was someone intimate enough to complain to. It had been two years since they separated and it wouldn’t be fair to put all this on Kristov. He needed to fight the urge to write things that would hurt or upset him, just as he had when writing to his own family about his wonderful adventures in Mendev.

For someone with no shortage of friends and even less difficulty making them, it was surprising how empty he could feel at times, especially haunted by the faces of his friends and colleagues who had died in the demon attack. What a merry band of Andorens they would all have made, leading the city defense like itinerant heroes, bonding over the bad beer and the glaring example Daeran made of the dangers of nepotism. And oh, how he would be fawned over with his strange (and still quite painful) wound.

Instead, the awful task fell to him to write letters to their friends and families bearing tidings that would destroy them. And here he was, still alive for no good reason.

Hovering, his pen let a black drop spill onto “My dearest.”

Stupid. He was over Kristov, as much as could be expected. It was just a childish need to be felt sorry for. He gave himself a wan, condescending smile. Just write the damn letter, play a sad song, cry a little and buck up. There are things to do.

Just when he had it under control, the Count walked right into his room and tossed his coat on the other bed like it was his own. “Weeping again?”

“Lamenting what’s become of the last of Mendev’s great families,” he returned with a brittle smile, shoving the parchment aside. “That bed’s occupied. You’re just helping yourself to it?”

“I am indeed moving in. Don’t take it personally; I’ve rather had my fill of sappy Desnans.” He patted his stomach and grimaced as if he’d overdone it on the sweet rolls. “In fact, what would it take to get you to push the beds together and clear out? Your former roommate went for six months’ salary. He’s sleeping on the floor in the common room for that and the dignity of the realm, so that my precious person should not suffer calumny.”

“I thought heaping calumny on your family name was your favorite pastime,” said Siavash. “Anyway no luck, Daeran. I’m wounded. I’m keeping my bed.”

The Count gave an annoyed sigh. “Fine. Well, I suppose one learns to make do in a siege. Go ahead and push the beds together, if you’re so keen.”

“You’ll have to find someone else in need of a couple months’ salary I’m afraid. You know, the more you open your mouth the more you reinforce my opinions on hereditary wealth.” Siavash grabbed his guitar and headed for the stairs in search of more agreeable company.

“Opinions we happen to share,” laughed Daeran behind him.

As he padded down to the common room in his stocking feet he was only half aware that he was seeking a certain charcoal-blue face in the crowd, someone he was sure could cheer him up.

There he was—the tiefling Woljif, chatting animatedly with Father Rathimus in the corner. Selling the priest something at a siege mark-up, no doubt. But just as Siavash headed that direction, Seelah beckoned loudly from the bar. “Hey, if it isn’t the best bard in the house.”

“And the worst,” he winked. He glanced again at the tiefling across the room, who quickly shifted his gaze away when their eyes met, but not without a spontaneous brightening of the smile he was putting to work on the priest.

“Need something to grease the wheels before you get started?” Seelah signaled the bartender.

He hesitated. Not only did he balk at the beer, he would rather trade tall tales with Woljif than play a set, although the tiefling seemed occupied anyway. Still, Seelah’s grin was hard to resist. “Sure, thanks.”

She passed him a mug. “Boy am I glad some god or other tossed a bard into the mix. Gotta keep morale up for another couple days until we can mop up the Gray Garrison.”

“I’m not sure I feel so lucky,” he chuckled, forcing down a mouthful. “Glad I can do my humble part though.”

“Ha, you mean besides brandishing an angelic sword at the head of the heroic city defense?”

“Come on, all I’ve been doing is aiming everybody else in the right direction and shouting encouragement from behind you.”

Seelah winked. “Got news for you. That’s what leaders do.”

“Hey chief, you gonna play a tune?” He hadn’t even seen the tiefling make his way over to the bar but there he was, wearing a surprisingly unguarded expression, tail flicking eagerly.

“I was thinking about it,” Siavash said, suddenly much more interested in playing than he’d been a few minutes ago. “Looks like this crowd could use some cheering up.”

“You oughtta charge,” Woljif said. The shifty, calculating look was suddenly back. “Or at least pass the hat around afterwards.”

Siavash laughed. The man was a paradox. At times undisguised innocence, like looking forward to a little music or demanding an apology from Sister Kerismei, and at other times three steps ahead of everyone devising a scheme to lighten someone’s purse. “With a captive audience that’s likely to damage my popularity,” he said. “Unless I pledge the coin to a charity reconstruction fund or something.”

The tiefling’s eyes lit up. “Hells, you’re good at this, chief. Sit tight, I’ll find you a hat.”

He settled on an empty mug instead of a hat. After the first set Siavash saw him making the rounds and decided not to say anything about it, just to see where it was headed. Thus as he sat with Seelah choking down another beer he was surprised when Woljif came back and threw a leg over the bench next to him, carefully pouring the jingling contents of the mug onto the table and sweeping the coins together with both hands, eyes glittering.

“Whaddaya say, chief? Good catch. So I was thinkin’, I’ll set aside fifty percent for the charity and cut you in ten.”

“And the other forty?” he asked out of curiosity, just to see what the tiefling would say.

“Overhead.” Woljif waved a dismissive hand.

“Where are you planning on setting aside the charity money? Under the floorboards?”

“Nah, I’ll invest it. Great opportunities with the city in this condition.” And Woljif proceeded to explain how fresh food transport was currently at a standstill except for a few more intrepid ox-drivers—by which he meant smugglers—who could be prevailed upon to make the risky journey given a sufficient injection of capital.

Siavash listened rapt. Woljif seemed to “know a guy who knew a guy” for just about anything and could turn a profit on a minimum of risk all while getting desperately needed food into the city center.

Not to mention the way the corner of his mouth curled appealingly in a conspiratorial smile, and the way his eyes shone excitedly in the lamplight as he talked. Although some might see in his yellow irises the touch of the Abyss, Siavash saw only a golden gleam of intelligence and that occasional surprising softness. Hope. An eagerness he kept forgetting to hide.

Which in turn brought out Siavash’s most reassuring manner, his gentle yet soul-penetrating smile that said What is good in you is safe with me. And what isn’t strictly good too. He watched him count out the coins, sorting them into small stacks, and wondered if he’d already pocketed a handful or two of “overhead,” but also, interestingly, whether this “investment” could actually help keep the halted economy of the city alive until the demons could be chased out.

Just one detail. “Sounds good. Except I think ten is a little low for doing all the heavy lifting.”

Woljif looked up from his stacks of coins and searched his gaze, eyes narrowing slightly.

“All right, chief. Twenty-five, that suit you?”

“That’ll do. In fact, I’ll tell you what—keep it and invest it for me.”

There was that look again: clear-eyed and hopeful. “You can count on me, chief. I’ll double it for you.”

“You’re trying to pull a profit in a city under siege?” Seelah huffed, knocking her mug on the table with a frown.

Something in Woljif’s gaze shut down. He leaned back and sighed.

“We need food, Woljif needs money,” shrugged Siavash. “Sounds like a win-win to me.”

Woljif blinked at him.

“Are you serious?” Seelah echoed the look but for a different reason.

“Yes, and I think you should invest too.”

She glanced back and forth at the two of them. “You know what? Fine. I’m gonna trust you on this one. Don’t make me regret it.” And she placed a handful of coins on the table, which Woljif quickly swept into his stack.

This time when his and Siavash’s eyes met they were both on the verge of bursting out laughing.

Siavash helped himself to a couple coppers. “Let me get you a drink, Woljif.”

“Uh—sure.” Woljif watched the coin disappear and this time he really did laugh. “Tea, lots a’ honey.”

As he headed for the bar, Woljif caught himself eyeing the chief—not for the first time—and wondering if he could actually have found the real deal, the business partner of his dreams.

Yet even if so, Desnans didn’t tend to linger in one place for long. The chief had hinted to Seelah he might stay on a bit and see through whatever mission the Andoren government had sent him on here, but he’d be off to Andoran again soon enough and that would be the end of it. Or would it? Maybe that was even better! An excuse to head south to warmer climes. His ticket out of here on a whole other level.

But of course, it was only a matter of time before the partnership went south, and not in the geographical sense. On the other hand by then maybe Woljif would be set up—a tidy investment fund and a few connections around Inner Sea ports from Augustana to Merab, some new business partners on the horizon.

Or… maybe… maybe it wouldn’t go sour. That was supposed to be possible, like in the ballads or the storybooks. Sure would be nice. He could get used to that smile, that music, the nice way the chief listened and didn’t interrupt.

Hells. Last time he thought he had himself an actual, well, business partner, reality had punched him in the mouth. Literally. Repeatedly.

He decided he’d have to keep a close eye on the chief, figure out his angle. See how the pieces fit together: the bardic charm, the angelic sword, the Desnan visions, the sensible approach to morality. And not get his hopes up.

The moment the chief turned his way with the tea Woljif realized he was staring, and whatever expression he was wearing it earned him the most dazzling smile he thought he’d ever seen in his whole life.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Sixteen (Part 2)

As final term goes on I seem to have a lot less time to socialise than I used to, spending late evenings in the computer room polishing off my digital art piece, or down in the life drawing studio compiling my best drawings from the year, or in the library composing my critical cultures essay, hours spent pouring over books to cite, researching and learning all about my chosen topic, which is the fashion and textile of Asian tribes. 

For most of this time I am alone, but for the times I amn’t, it’s because I’m with Dean. Whenever he has time off work he’ll join me in the lab or the studio or the library and we’ll sit there together silently working through the evening, ankles intertwined beneath the desks as we pore over books about contemporary ceramics, ancient civilisations, Iranian cinema, pop art and the frescoes of Pompeii. The clocks change in late March, and even as April comes and the sky is bright until late into the evening, we stay until the sun goes down and the light fades from the room and all that’s left is the fluorescence from the lamp on the table between us to light the pages of our books. 

“Do you ever get sick of this?” He asks me quietly one evening as I organise my bibliography on my laptop. I lift my head to look at him, hand fisted on his cheek as he stabs his own keyboard with one finger. “Sometimes.” I say. “But I think my essay is finally coming together.” 

He huffs. “It’s so stupid that we have to do this writing shite, this is supposed to be a fine arts degree.”

“Yeah I get that but it’s also an academic degree. There has to be some sort of essay portion, I don’t think you’ll ever get away without having to do it.”

“I’m terrible at writing.” He frowns. “And I’m so sick of reading these stupid books about fucking pottery, the words they use are such bullshit, it’s like these writers are having a contest to see who can make their book the hardest to understand.”

Dean’s education, as I’ve learned, is a touchy subject for him. He left school when he was fifteen because he had either some difficulties learning or a lack of interest. It isn’t clear to me which, but either way he struggles now because of it. I tried to ask him about it before but I only ended up irritating him and he shut down, so I’m careful before broaching it again. “If you need help with anything just let me know.” I say. 

“I don’t.” He goes back to typing something aggressively onto his laptop for several minutes before he whacks the backspace key in frustration and sits there with the heels of his hands dug into his eye sockets. I clear my throat nervously. “Dean, like, I mean it if there’s anything I can do-”

“I don’t need help.” He repeats. “As in, I don’t need you to help me, do you not get it?”

“I get it.” I say quietly. I try to go back to my own citation list but I seem to have lost where I was, my focus having been thrown by him. I scroll back up to the beginning of the bibliography and start checking it again. After several more minutes, he sighs and drops his hands back to his lap, and while I don’t dare look over at him, from the corner of my eye I see him drop his head and shake it from side to side. “I’m so sick of this.” He says. “I’m so tired of spending all of my time in this building. I just go from college to work and back to college again over and over. Everything is shit.”

“I know it’s hard right now.” I attempt. “But soon it’ll be over and you’ll have so much more time to relax during the summer. At least then when you’ll only be working in Primo you’ll have every afternoon free.”

“Yeah.” He says flatly. I know that it’s more than just pure exhaustion with him, more than just college. It’s his family, his father’s death, his sister, his aunts, all of these things that I can’t even begin to relate to or even know how to comfort him about, things that feel so far out of the scope of my experience that they only serve to remind me of the worlds between he and I, a terrain between us that I can’t traverse. It makes me feel weak, small, ineffective and childish. “I don’t know how to make you feel better.” I tell him. 

He sighs and beckons me towards him. “C’mere.” He says, and when I hesitate he repeats himself. “C’mere.” I get out of my seat and walk around the table to stand in front of him. He slides his hands around my waist and links them at my back, and then rests his cheek against my belly. For a moment I’m not sure what he wants me to do with him, but he hums with approval as I lift a hesitant hand and run it through his hair, the dark roots an inch long now and the bleach turning brassy yellow, beginning to grow long over the tops of his ears. It’s so silent in the empty library, nothing but the buzz of the lightbulbs and the gentle whirr of Dean’s laptop fan. He lifts his head and kisses my ribs, gazing up at me with honey coloured eyes that I am immediately knee deep in. Despite the sharp anglesthere really is something so lovely about his face. He takes me by the hips and pulls me easily down onto his lap.

“What?” I whisper. I stroke my thumbs over his dark brows and kiss him gently on his nose, and he looks back at me, eyes travelling over my body as he says “just let me kiss you.” He lifts my hands away from him, and the feeling of his fingers on my wrists makes my skin tingle with awareness. Heat flashes in his eyes and the weight of his gaze makes my breath catch in my throat, and when he kisses me he crushes his mouth against mine so suddenly that I want to gasp. He lets go of my wrists to hold my face and I’m free to touch him again, so I sink one hand into his thick hair while the other sweeps down his chest, then his hands grasp at my waist and pull me even closer to him. 

“Is this helping?” I murmur as he begins kissing my throat, and I’m sure that he can feel the flutter of my pulse against his lips. 

“Mhm.” He says, and guides me backwards so that the table edge presses into the base of my spine. He lifts me off him so I’m sitting on it, impatiently shoving his laptop and his books out of the way to make some room. I pull back to look at him, enjoying the way that his gaze sweeps over me before he takes me by the jaw and kisses the side of my mouth, his hands travelling to my chest, breath shuddering out of his nose as he captures my mouth again. “The things I want to do to you…” He says between hungry kisses. “If I told you about them they’d make you blush.” He moves his hands underneath me so he can hold me to him, right in the place that he wants me, his knee sliding between my legs until I can feel his thigh…

“Wait.” I whisper. 

His voice sounds hoarse and strained. “Evie… please.”

“We can’t be doing this here. Not in the library.”

He sighs against my collarbone and I feel him resign then, resting his forehead in the curve of my neck. His hands return to my waist. “Okay, it’s just, I think we should keep going.”

“And I think we need to stop.”

He sighs heavily and slumps back into his chair, his mouth a little swollen from kissing me, his amber coloured eyes expectantly fixed on my face as if waiting for an explanation, and I don’t really know what to say, so I just repeat myself. “Not in the library.”

“If not in the library then where? This is where we always are lately.”

“It’s not true, we go to the park together, we’ve gone to the cinema and to the harbour that time.”

“If we did what I wanted us to do in any of those places then we’d be arrested.”

I feel my cheeks flushed with heat. “Oh, well, I know, but-”

“And I’m not allowed in your apartment either, you’ve made that clear, since you’re hiding me from your housemate, and you won’t come home to my house either.-”

“You live in Kilbarrack.” I reason. “It’s too far away.” He also lives with three very intimidating sounding men with intimidating nicknames, one in particular that they ominously call Bones who I don’t feel ready to be in the presence of.

“So what do you want from me?” He insists, struggling to keep the impatience from his tone. The impatience that’s been steadily growing over recent weeks. “What is this to you?”

I hesitate. “We’re just getting to know each other.”

“We’re not really, not in the ways I want to get to know you. I just don’t get it. You’re so open with me about everything, your art, your family, your friend Kelly from school who was mean to you, why is it so easy for you to show me all those parts of you but when it comes to sex you’re a closed book?”

“Because that’s private. I’m the kind of person who likes to wait a while.”

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and looks right up into my face from beneath me. “It’s been a while.” He tells me. “And I don’t get it.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Why does it have to be all about that for you? Can’t we just keep doing what we’re doing?”

“No.” He says. “Because you aren’t my girlfriend.”

“So unless I’m your girlfriend, it’s impossible for you to care about parts of me that aren’t the ones hidden by my underwear?”

“No, Evie.” He says, letting out this intense, frustrated little sound as he clenches his fist and throws his body back into the chair again. “Stop twisting everything and acting like the victim, I’m just asking you why you’re so closed. It’s not like you’re a virgin with no experience.”

I nod. 

“So is it something about me? Is there something off-putting?”

“No!” I cry. “It’s not that, it’s nothing to do with you at all, I just get nervous.” Distantly, I hear my phone buzz from inside the pocket of my coat that’s draped over the chair behind me. I ignore it. 

Dean continues. “So let’s have something to drink first, let’s just relax and I promise that I’ll be nice to you, I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I know you’re not.” I say in a quiet voice, and he takes my hand, softening his expression as we interlace our fingers, his thumb gently stroking up and down the inner part of my wrist. “Look, Evie.” He says. “If you don’t want to, just say that, and it’ll be grand. I’m not here trying to force you to do anything. I was just asking the questions.”

“I want to.” I say, and the way he looks at me makes my stomach lurch with anticipation and unease all at once. “But not right now, not tonight, and not here.”

“Okay.” He says, watching me carefully. 

“On Thursdays.” I swallow. “My housemate always stays over at her boyfriend’s house in Clonskeagh. I’ll be alone.”

“Thursday.”

“But if I chicken out and I don’t want to do it…”

“Obviously, Evie, then we don’t have to.” 

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Look, I’m going to go home now, I’m tired of being in this building, I feel claustrophobic in it, and my neck hurts.” He stands up and I move out of his way as he snaps his laptop shut and begins gathering up all of his books to put them back onto their corresponding shelves. I stay leaning on the table and watch him as he does it. “It’s going to be fine.” I say, and he looks over his shoulder at me. “Your essay.” I clarify. “You’ll get it done.”

“Oh, that.” He says. “It’s just about the last thing on my mind.” Stuffing his laptop back into its case he says “My essay will be… whatever it ends up being, like. If I cared about it I’d probably be staying here longer. Here, are you gonna leave too? Do you want to walk to the bus together?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay another while and just finish up what I was doing.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow, so.” He takes me by the neck and plants a kiss on my cheek. 

“Bye.” I say to him, and he waves over his shoulder as he exits through the swinging doors and is swallowed into the dark hallway. 

Sighing, I resume my place in front of my laptop, jiggling my finger on the touchpad to wake it, and the screen flicks back to life and displays my bibliography in the exact disappointing state that I left it in. I start moving things around more, checking for spelling mistakes, and then I suddenly remember that I missed a message on my phone earlier, and eager for another chance to procrastinate I dive into my coat pocket for it. I feel my heart expand a little bit when I see a message from Jude. 

Rate me? 

Following the message is a mirror selfie of him in his Top Gun costume. He’s doing a very Tom-Cruise-accurate pose, turned to the side with his shoulder to the mirror, his arm lifted to give a thumbs up to the camera, but also to show off the big red white and blue TOMCAT patch that he ironed onto the sleeve. We’ve talked extensively about this costume over recent weeks, trying to figure out the best ways to make it as authentic as possible, not because there’s a prize for the best costume or anything, but because, as Jude explains to me, he has an insatiable need to be the best at everything he does. 

“It’s a sickness.” He told me last week. “I absolutely cannot be outdone.”

I grin at the photo, feeling proud, and partly responsible for how well it turned out, seeing as I was the one who searched Ebay for three out of the six patches on that costume, getting a kick out of finding the ones most like those from the film and for the best prices.

Just to tease him, I text back:

6 out of 10. Where are the aviator shades??

He replies just a moment later with another photograph, this time of him wearing them, doing a silly duck face. It looks like he’s out already, as there’s a handful of people around him out on the city streets, random arms and legs and elbows filling up the edges of the screen.

Happy? 

Yep, now that’s a 10 out of 10. 

Because it covers more of my face, is it?

Yes 100%, uggo. 

And when he texts back again I forget all about my essay. Thumbs zooming over my phone keyboard, mouth quirked up in a smile as I think of a hundred clever things to say to him, texting, laughing and texting until my laptop screen gives up waiting for me and fades back to black. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) – Chapter 6

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, smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster, mobster AU

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

Map of Waterdeep: here

According to the game, sussur flowers nullify nearby magic and smell of honey.

The poem's my own, but inspired by "A Kiss" by Howard Simon (and the Mizora romance option).

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

The autumn night was still warm and Astarion strutted through Waterdeep with the leather jacket thrown over his shoulder.

In the Dock Ward, he entered a non-descript corner house without difficulty. The perks of entering a house who's owner was long dead – or better said undead.

Cazador had bought the safe house a couple of months ago to do his stupid scheming about his stupid plan in this stupid city.

Astarion sighed, leaning against the door.

"Took you long enough," said a sharp voice.

Astarion startled, then, he huffed in annoyance.

"Really, Aurelia, have a bit more faith in me."

The addressed snorted deprecatingly, retorting: "Faith? In you? Don't be silly."

"Hey, I did as I was told and seduced him."

"Yes, that's the only thing you're good at," the other vampire spawn replied coldly.

Astarion glared at her angrily and crossed his arms.

"So what now?"

"Now, you stay Dekarios' bed warmer, gather information and then..." Grinning nastily, Aurelia handed him a collar. It was made of soft but sturdy black leather and smelled slightly of honey. As soon as Astarion touched it, his knees went weak and he felt the bit of magic that was in his undead body wane.

"What the hells is this?" he gasped.

"A collar with dried sussur flowers sewn in between the layers of leather," the tiefling explained. "You know what it's for."

Astarion felt instantly sick. Aurelia's grin grew wider and nastier.

"Master's already waiting for his powerful meal." She patted his cheek in a mockery of affection. "Don't mess it up, brother, or you'll regret it. But don't worry; you know I'm very talented and skilled at skinning and breaking bones. Toodeloo."

And with these words, she exited the house, leaving a miserable elf behind.

What am I doing? Astarion thought, his legs trembling. I can't – I don't want to – but I have to. Damn it.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

Everything will be fine, he told himself. I'll manage. I don't have any feelings for him. None at all. He's just another conquest.

But he knew, of course, that it was a futile effort to delude himself. Astarion was fucked.

He fed on some rats that were kept and bred for exactly said purpose in the basement of the safe house. Another one of these unsettling living skeletons – like Godey in the Szarr Palace in Baldur's Gate – took care of them and kept the house tidy. Astarion hated to be in its presence. It reminded him of all the times spent in the kennels being punished for his disobedience.

Upstairs, in the spawn's quarter, Astarion packed his bag, and before he left, he took a bath and dowsed himself in his signature perfume.

Be brave. Everything will be fine.

Shortly before dawn, he left the house, locked it, and walked a few blocks down the street. Then, he pressed the teleportation stone against his chest and murmured: "Gale Dekarios, Archmage of Waterdeep."

The air around him shifted, it felt like falling from a great height and then, Astarion found himself in a familiar corridor. Panelled wooden walls with paintings, red, plush carpets, potted plants lined up like soldiers, and a welcoming oakwood door right in front of his nose. The Dekarios Estate. It had worked. Astarion sighed in relief and knocked on the door of Gale's suite.

"Come in!"

The vampire spawn involuntarily smiled and entered the cosy quarter. Gale stood in front of the balcony door, a cup of tea in his hands, dressed only in an half-open robe. It was a breathtaking view. The wizard beamed at him and placed his teacup on the round table.

"Hello, Astarion, I'm glad to see you."

"I'm glad to be here," replied the addressed coquettishly and strutted towards the wizard, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I missed you, darling."

The kiss was slow but passionate, and Astarion took his time, exploring Gale's mouth, running his tongue over the hot palate. The wizard moaned and pulled the vampire spawn closer.

So predictable, so easy, so...

Astarion broke the kiss and gazed at Gale from underneath his lashes.

"I missed you," he repeated with a purr.

"I missed you too," replied the wizard, blushing slightly.

How adorable. Astarion grabbed Gale's robe and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor.

"Take me to bed, darling. I want to make you feel good."

Relief flooded through him when Gale didn't ask any stupid questions, but led him straight into the bedroom.

At last. All he had to do was fuck the wizard's brains out until he ate out of the palm of his hand. Easy-peasy.

Astarion let himself be manhandled, making his mind go blank and fuzzy. No need to think, no need to feel. Just let the body do what it supposed do.

He moaned right on cue as Gale kissed his neck.

"Do you like this?" asked the wizard. "Tell me what else you like."

To the hells with Gale and his damn mouth. Couldn't he just shut up and not ruin everything?

"Stop asking questions and put your mouth on me!" Astarion snapped, too sharply, but he was running out of patience.

"Alright..." Gale sounded taken aback. "Where do you want –"

"On my cock."

The wizard moved downwards and engulfed him, and finally, finally, his mouth was too occupied to talk.

Astarion moaned and rolled his hips up.

Usually, his marks didn't go down on him. Gale was the first in nine years to do so, and Astarion wanted to enjoy it. Mewling, he arched off the bed and into that clever mouth.

"Mmh, yes! More, darling!"

The vampire spawn whined when the wizard wiggled a finger into him. It was slippery with oil and Astarion had no idea when or how that had happened.

Gale opened him up gently while running his tongue along his cock. It was almost too good to be true. Astarion buried his hands in the wizard's hair, writhing.

"I'm so close," he whined. "Gods, please..."

Gale hummed and that was it. With a loud moan, Astarion's hips bucked up and he spilled down the wizard's throat. Urgently, he dragged Gale off his cock and smashed their lips together. The vampire spawn could taste himself, but he didn't care. It was amazing, perfect even. The best sex he'd had in over a century.

"Fuck me," he groaned. "Fuck my brains out."

"Astarion..."

"No. Please, now, Gale."

The wizard complied, of course he did, and Astarion gasped when he was entered.

He didn't like it when people towered over him. It always felt too claustrophobic. But not with Gale.

Astarion gazed up at the wizard's blissed-out face, revelling in the latter's moans and gasps. He wrapped his legs around Gale's waist and his arms around his neck.

"Fuck me, darling," he demanded.

And Gale finally started to move. Slow but precise thrusts, using just the right angle. Panting, the wizard bent down, their lips slotting together in a messy kiss. Astarion moaned, arching his back. His mind threatened to slip away.

"Poetry," he gasped. "Quote a poem for me, darling."

"Now?" groaned the addressed.

"Yes."

Despite his sex-muddled mind, Gale recognised the urgency of Astarion's words. He didn't know why and he wondered about the cause.

"Please, Gale, now," pleaded the vampire spawn, fighting the urge to close his eyes and float away.

"I'm… thinking," panted the wizard. "Not the – mmh! – easiest thing right now."

Astarion wheezed out a laugh and Gale tried his best to think clearly. He rested his head on the vampire spawn's shoulder and, after another moment, complied to his wish.

"'The fire of passion burns in me like the Nine Hells,

desire and longing are not tameable with any spells.

The flames of lust enwrap me like a devil's embrace.

I shed my shame, climax and release is what I chase.

I break my heavy shackles in the prison of craving,

churning and roaring like the River Styx, cascading.

No longer can I keep my bottled up emotions at bay.

My appetite's insatiable, like a predator's for prey.

I want to devour you, flesh and bone,

and kiss away every gasp and moan.

A flurry of bodies, limbs, hands, lips, and tongue,

in this moment of passion, we're forever young.

I give in to the burning inferno of love,

but I don't fear the wrath from above.

Every kiss, every move, is a salute to the carnal art,

filled with beauty and awe, and sunshine in my heart.

We're floating on ecstasy as time stands still,

every time anew, sex with you is a pleasant thrill.'"

Astarion climaxed with a guttural cry, his sharp nails digging into Gale's back and scalp, as he shook and shook, and almost passed out because of the intensity of his orgasm.

Never before did he feel this way. Never before did anyone bring him this much bliss. Never before did he –

"Gale..." panted Astarion. "My love..."

The wizard's breath hitched before he moaned and came, collapsing onto the pale elf. His hand found its way into Astarion's hair and it just rested there while Gale panted against the vampire spawn's neck and shoulder. Harsh, hot, humid puffs of air. Astarion should be disgusted, it always had been, but right now, he didn't mind. Because it was Gale. Not a random stranger he had to bring back to Cazador. Not a mark. Well... Astarion's undead heart ached and he turned his head to capture Gale's lips in a lazy but desperate kiss.

Cazador wasn't allowed to have him. Gale was his.

[smgsecretsanta]

A gift from @galaxyzone to @qusok!!!!

Text under the cut

A/N: I really liked the request for a summer camp fanfic, so I thought I would give that a go! Just a disclaimer that I haven’t written fanfiction in years, but I am very confident in my writing ability, so I hope you enjoy it! Also, this story is essentially a Summer Camp AU and is not tied to the canon game, as the characters are all about the same ages (except Charlie) instead of there being like a 6-year age gap between Erin and Kate, for instance. In this story, Jamie & Erin are 14 while Kate & Mark are 16. I also may have incorporated some of my headcanons about the characters, as well as some headcanons I’ve seen from other people because I liked them! Oh, I also have included a little easter egg referencing The Quarry if anyone happens to catch it. It’s very subtle but let me know if you find it! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it! <3

Jamie always hated these things. The stupid orientations on the first day of camp where the adults go over the rules & regulations, give sleeping arrangements, discuss the “itinerary” of activities instead of actually doing said activities, talk about the code of conduct, etc, etc. It was already hard enough for any teenager to sit still for a prolonged period of time and listen attentively while monotone adults droned on and on, let alone a teenager who already has difficulties with attention regulation such as Jamie. As the counselor moved on to talking about how meals would work, Jamie huffed and slouched even lower in her chair.

As she scanned the room, she recognized only 2 familiar faces. One was a man, one of the counselors, who was sitting up at the front with the other counselors, flipping through a stack of papers. Charlie was the director of activities, which Jamie considered a joke since she was pretty sure the man would lose his own head if it wasn’t already screwed on. Actually, Jamie questioned if it was even screwed on tight enough, or possibly even a little too tight. That would explain his constant stress responses to every little hiccup he encounters. The other face Jamie recognized belonged to a boy, another camper whom Jamie knew from both her previous 2 years at camp. He was wearing a well-loved gray hoodie and had his favorite camera strapped around his neck. During their first year at camp together, Jamie and Mark didn’t know each other too well. Jamie was extroverted and liked socializing and getting into trouble with the other kids, whereas Mark was more introverted and preferred keeping to himself and his camera. However, all of the kids that Jamie had hung out with during her first year did not attend camp the following year, leaving Jamie to make new friends. One of the only faces she recognized was Mark’s, so she decided to adopt him as her designated introvert, as many extroverts like to do. Even though they were different, the two of them got along pretty well and Jamie was happy to see that he was back.

Just then, the girl sitting next to Mark leaned over and whispered something to him. She had auburn hair and was wearing a beanie that looked almost as well-loved as Mark’s hoodie. Jamie didn’t recognize her. Was she someone Mark knew from school? Jamie shrugged and resumed slouching in her chair. She bent her head back, looking up at the ceiling, and heaved a sigh. These stupid things always dragged on.

After the orientation finally ended, Jamie quickly found her cabin and was surprised to already find another girl inside. She didn’t notice Jamie come in, she had her back turned towards the door and was rummaging inside her bag.

“Hey,” Jamie gently greeted the girl to get her attention.

“Oh!” The girl spun around, holding something in her hand. She greeted Jamie back with a small wave, “Hi.”

The girl was wearing a yellow t-shirt over a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of headphones around her neck.

“I’m Jamie,” Jamie stuck her hand out for the girl to shake.

“Erin,” The girl replied as she softly took Jamie’s hand and gave it a gentle shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Erin.”

“You too,” Erin gave Jamie a soft smile.

Their hands lingered a little longer than normal, still awkwardly and slowly shaking for a good couple of seconds before Jamie chuckled and retracted her hand.

“What were you looking for in your bag? You forget something?”

“Oh, no, I was looking for this,” Erin held up a blue inhaler. “There’s probably a lot of dust and stuff at camp, so I wanted to make sure it was accessible, because the last time I had an attack and didn’t have it on me, it was— well,” She stopped herself short. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too much information, i-it just helps me breathe.”

“You’re good,” Jamie gave a small, amused chuckle. “I don’t mind, I like learning things about people. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care.”

“Oh, well that’s a relief,” Erin plopped down on her chosen bed as Jamie set her bag on the other bed and started to unpack. “I’m just so used to people getting annoyed with me for sharing too much.”

“Those people are lame,” Jamie said in such a blunt tone that caught Erin off-guard, but in a good way. She wasn’t used to other people immediately having her back in such a confident manner like the one Jamie exudes.

“Yeah,” Erin giggled. “I guess so.”

“Go ahead, say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say, ‘those people are lame.’ It’ll make you feel good, promise.”

“…Will it?”

“As someone who’s been saying it practically my whole life, yes. I guarantee.”

“O-okay… Those people are lame?”

Jamie stopped rummaging in her bag and turned to Erin.

“Mmm, no. Like you mean it.”

“But what if I don’t mean it?”

“Come onn, just say it.”

“Okay, those people are lame…”

“Louder.”

Erin looked around, unsure of herself, as she was a much more quiet and reserved person than Jamie was. It would appear that Jamie had found her designated adopted introvert for the summer.

“I won’t judge you,” Jamie encouraged her. “In fact, I’ll think you’re pretty cool. Go ahead, let it out.”

“Alright… Those people are lame.”

“One more time.”

“Those people are lame!”

Jamie chuckled, “Pretty good, does that feel better?”

“A little,” Erin admitted with a sheepish smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Good! Sometimes you gotta let that stuff out instead of letting it bottle up, y’know?” Jamie finished unpacking most of her stuff before she turned back towards Erin. “You wanna go look around?”

Erin looked up at her, “Don’t you still have to finish unpacking?”

“Eh, that stuff can wait, I wanna go see everything. Wanna join me? It’ll be fun!”

Erin, wanting Jamie to continue to think she was cool, shrugged and placed aside the book that she had gotten out.

“Sure, I suppose. Where are we going?”

“Anywhere! I wanna see what kind of activities they have set up.”

Jamie headed for the cabin door and Erin followed after her, inhaler in her pocket and headphones still around her neck.

At another section of the camp, Mark sat on a bench and pointed his camera at a small family of ducks floating in the lake across from him. As one of the ducks popped back up from the water and shook its head, Mark clicked his camera and took a couple of quick photos. After a short succession of shots, he took the camera away from his eye and reviewed them, determining which ones to keep. As he clicked through them, the auburn-haired girl strolled up to him.

“Get anything good?” She asked him.

“Just some trees and ducks,” He turned the camera screen to show her his favorite from the bunch, which was a snap of the duck shaking off the water.

“Looks good! Is that a new camera?”

“My mom got it for me for my birthday. She gave it to me a little early so I could have it at camp.”

“That was sweet. How is your mom?”

“She’s good. She says hi.”

“Ah, well, tell her I say hi back! You know… when you get back home, of course…” She trailed off before letting out a sigh as she sat next to him. Mark chuckled and turned towards her.

“For sure. You all unpacked?” He shut his camera off and put it back in his camera bag.

“Yup! Ah, so, Mark… I—”

“I’m really glad you could come along this summer, Kate. It’s a lot of fun and I’m pretty excited to finally share it with you.”

Kate gave him a soft smile, “Me too, Mark. I’m really happy we get to have a fun summer together. There’s just, um…” Kate looked at her hands, picking at the skin around her fingernails.

“Who knows, maybe if you enjoy it just as much as I do, we can come back next year and be counselors or something.”

“I thought you had to be eighteen to be a counselor.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re probably right. I just assumed that because sixteen was the cutoff for campers, that meant that seventeen was the eligible age for counselors. Although maybe there’s a junior counselor option? I don’t know, it was just a thought.”

Kate gave him another warm smile, “Well, you should definitely look into it, I think that would be really great for you. Maybe you could teach these kids about photography!”

“You think I could?”

“I don’t see why not. You’re a really good photographer, Mark.”

Mark couldn’t help but blush a little. “Thanks, Kate. Maybe you could teach them about journalism or something!”

Kate smiled at him again, although this time it was more of a sad smile. He was so excited and she was so happy to see him thinking about the future, especially since the Mark she’s used to usually just lets life happen. How was she supposed to tell him about her mother’s new job and about how it would take her away from him?

“Mark, I have to tell you about something—”

“Hey, Mark!” Kate was cut off by Jamie, who was waving and walking up to them with Erin at her side.

“Hey, Jamie, good to see you again!” Mark stood up and caught Jamie slightly off-guard with a hug.

“Oh, hey, yeah, you too!” She patted his back before they let go.

Mark, realizing he had to make introductions, awkwardly gestured to Kate, “This is Kate, we go to school together. She’s that friend I told you about last year.” He then turned to Kate and gestured towards Jamie, “Kate, this is Jamie, she was my friend last year at camp.”

Kate stood up and shook Jamie’s hand, “Nice to meet you, Jamie.”

“You too. Mark told me a lot about you last year. In fact, sometimes it seemed like he wouldn’t shut up about you.”

Kate looked at Mark, who opened his mouth to object, clearly blushing. “Really?”

“I— I wouldn’t say I wouldn’t shut up about you, that’s… an over-exaggeration, I just had a lot to say about… school, and… stuff…”

“Uh huh,” Kate smirked before turning back to Jamie. “Well he told me a good bit about you too, he said he had a lot of fun last year.” Kate then turned to Erin, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Erin.” Erin awkwardly lifted her hand, unsure of whether or not she should hold it out for Kate to shake. When Kate extended her own hand, Erin clumsily took it and gave it a small shake. “I’m just… Jamie’s roommate. Or, uh, cabinmate,” she said before she awkwardly folded her arms just so she could have somewhere to put her hands, which she was suddenly overly conscious of.

“I’m taking her around, showing her all of my favorite spots, telling her which places to stay away from, et cetera,” Jamie jumped in, taking the attention and pressure off of Erin.

“Did you show her the waterfall?” Mark asked.

Kate echoed, “Waterfall?”

“There’s this little lake that we all used to go swimming in, and above it there’s this stream that has a mini waterfall flowing into it.”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Jamie answered. “I was actually heading that way now when I saw you guys. You… wanna join us?”

“Sure! Kate, you wanna go?”

Kate hesitated. She knew that she shouldn’t put off what she needed to tell him, but she also knew that she technically had all summer. She figured it was best to not dump it on him right away, so she said, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

“Alrighty, campers, let’s goo!” Jamie started leading the way, Erin right behind her, and Mark and Kate behind Erin.

When the four of them made it to the waterfall, they laughed and talked about everything they thought of, simply having fun getting to know each other. They splashed around in the water a bit, but Mark was resistant to getting his favorite hoodie wet while Erin was protective of her headphones, not wanting them to get ruined. They hung out for about an hour or so before a counselor came looking for them.

Later that night, after dinner, Kate knocked on Mark’s cabin door just as he was finishing getting unpacked. Because the doors had mesh windows on them, Mark could see Kate standing outside under the glow of the lantern that was mounted on the outside wall.

“Come in, Kate!” Mark called to Kate, and she opened the door to let herself in. Mark was organizing his camera bag for what Kate could only guess was maybe the fiftieth time since they got to camp that day. Mark’s roommate was sitting on his own bed on the farther side of the cabin, listening intently to something on his phone with earbuds in his ears. “Hey,” Mark greeted Kate, “What’s up?”

“Hey, Mark, do you have a minute?”

“Luckily I just finished unpacking, so yeah! Why?”

Kate shrugged, “Wanna go on a walk? It’s really nice out tonight.”

“Sure,” Mark finished crewing a lens on his camera. “Should I bring my camera?”

“I don’t know how good the lighting is here at nighttime.”

Mark looked down at his camera, contemplating what Kate said. “Good point,” he said as he put his camera back in its bag and zipped it shut. “Okay, let’s go!” Mark grabbed his gray hoodie and wrapped it around himself, zipping it up, before following Kate towards the door. Before leaving, Mark turned to his roommate and said, “I’ll be back, man.”

His roommate gave him a small thumbs up as an acknowledgment before Mark followed Kate outside and let the door swing close behind them.

“Where to, m’lady?” Mark asked Kate, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Anywhere, really, I just thought it’d be nice to look at the stars. It’s so much easier to see them here than back in the city.”

Mark followed Kate’s gaze up towards the sky, where he could indeed see more stars than he had ever seen back in Chicago. “Think you can recognize any constellations?”

Kate chuckled, “No, I’m not really familiar with any constellations.”

“You’re not?”

“No, not really. What makes you think I am?” Her tone wasn’t snappy at all, she was genuinely curious as to why he thought that about her.

Mark shrugged, “I dunno, I just thought since you’re into crystals, that you would be into all of that kind of stuff.” Mark gave her a sheepish smile, which Kate returned.

“Nah, not really my thing. I do like astrology and studying the zodiac signs, but I’m not really a constellations girl.”

Mark let out a chuckle and said, “Fair enough.”

The two of them walked in silence a bit longer, appreciating the night sky and the sounds of the crickets around them. They eventually made it to a little hiking trail that led away from the main camp. As they started walking down the trail, Kate looked at Mark, who was still admiring the night sky. Kate smiled to herself. She was going to miss this big dork a lot.

“Mark, I kinda have to tell you something.”

Mark looked back to Kate. “What’s up?”

“Well, firstly, nothing is wrong,” Kate reassured, not realizing how strange of a statement that was to start off with until Mark gave her a weird look.

“O-okay? Is everything ok?”

Kate was suddenly very aware of the cool breeze that was blowing through the trees around them.

“Y-yeah,” Kate let out a shiver. “Everything is f-fine.”

Mark, noticing Kate shivering, immediately unzipped his jacket and, without saying anything, removed it from himself and wrapped it around Kate’s shoulders. She gave him a sweet, grateful look before graciously taking it and putting her arms through the sleeves. What was she ever going to do without this big meatball? Once Kate had the hoodie on, Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him so she could share his body warmth. Kate had always been one of those people who got cold pretty easily, and Mark was always more than happy to warm her up.

“What did you wanna talk about?” He asked.

“S-so,” Kate let out one last shiver before relaxing into his embrace. “You know how I told you my mom was looking for a new job?”

“Yeah, she wanted better pay and a better work environment, right?”

“Right… Yeah, so… She, uh, she found one.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great!” Mark smiled at Kate, who still looked nervous, which seemed strange to Mark considering the good news she just shared. “So how come you don’t seem happy?”

“The job is in Georgia.”

Mark stopped walking and loosened his embrace on Kate.

“What?”

“The job is located in Georgia, which means… We have to move,” Kate gave him a sad look. Mark dropped his arm and turned to face Kate fully.

“You’re moving?” Mark searched Kate’s face, looking for some type of indicator that there was hopefully some good news to balance out the idea of them having to split up. “When?”

“At the end of the summer. When we get back home, I basically have to start packing right away. Our flight is August 28th.”

Mark felt like someone had just jabbed a needle through his chest.

“So…” He started, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing. “What does this mean, then? For us?”

“It, well… It means we have to break up,” Kate’s voice hitched as she said that. She hated the idea of them having to break up, but she hated the idea of a long-distance relationship just as much. “I’ve never done long-distance before, and to be honest, I don’t think I could handle it. I just think it would be even more painful than just being friends, which I don’t wanna do either, I want to be with you, I just… I don’t have a choice. Not until I’m an adult with my own job and can stand on my own feet.”

“You have a job.”

“I mean a real job, one that pays an actual living wage.”

Mark looked down at the ground, not wanting her to see the pain on his face. Mark was one of those people who hated the feeling of sadness so much that he would rather feel anything else, even if it was anger. To him, it was easier to be angry than it was to be sad. It was like an unhealthy coping mechanism designed to suppress his feelings rather than regulate them.

“Is this why you came to camp with me this year? Because you felt bad that you’ll have to leave me?”

“No, Mark, I wanted us to have a good summer before I have to go! I didn’t want to dump it on you right before we leave, which is also why I thought I should tell you now instead of at the end of summer. That way, I figured we could just focus on having a good time before, y’know…” Kate trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

“Kate, how am I supposed to have a good time when I know that it’s going to end when we go back home?”

“Because we can make the most of it, you know, knowing that it’s… our last few months together. We can go all out— water balloon fights, hiking, scavenger hunts, swimming, all that stuff!”

“But knowing that you’re going to leave doesn’t make me wanna do that stuff, it makes me just want to reverse time or find a way to keep you here. Or, well— not keep you here, at camp, but I mean— like, keep you in Chicago. With me.”

Kate gave him another sad look, not entirely knowing what to say. It wasn’t her choice to leave him, she very much wanted the opposite, but her mom needed this new job to better make ends meet.

“I’m sorry, Mark, I wish I had a choice. You know how much my mom needs this job.”

Mark sighed, feeling his anger wash away as soon as he looked into her eyes. From just one glance, he could instantly tell just how much this was tearing her apart. That was the thing about Kate’s eyes— they always did the best job at portraying her inner thoughts and feelings, even more so than her words sometimes. That was one reason she often wore sunglasses when she could— they allowed her to be mysterious whenever she was around people she didn’t fully feel comfortable letting in. Mark, however, was not someone she felt the need to keep a guard up around.

“I’m sorry, too,” Mark took Kate’s hands. “You’re right, I know that, and I know you don’t have a choice, I just…” Mark sighed again. “Tell me there’s a chance that it’s not goodbye forever?”

“Oh, definitely not, you know I couldn’t do that,” Kate pulled her right hand free and used it to cup Mark’s face.

Mark looked back down at the ground, feeling slightly overpowered by the emotion glistening in Kate’s eyes, afraid that he would fully break if he were to continue looking into them; but it was too late. A tear started rolling down his cheek, which Kate promptly wiped away upon feeling it reach her fingertips.

“Hey,” Kate said softly. “We still have all summer before we have to worry about it. Let’s have fun, okay? I want you to show me everything you love here, like Jamie was doing with Erin. I want to see all your favorite spots, I want to do your favorite activities, I want to do dumb, reckless teenager stuff before we have to deal with boring, shitty adult stuff. Can we please do that?”

Mark nodded, “Yeah, of course.”

Wanting to ease the tension a little, Kate joked, “Good, because I’m really looking forward to crushing your ass in a water balloon fight.”

Mark chuckled. “You wish,” he said.

“Is that a challenge? Alright, buster, well we’ll just see who crushes who then, won’t we?” Kate gave him a playful kiss, which Mark quickly melted into, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. The two of them deepened the kiss, not wanting to let each other go. They could have stayed like that for hours if it weren’t for their need to break for air. When they finally parted lips, they kept their faces close together and leaned their foreheads together. They held that position for a good minute or so, feeling more connected than they ever had before. Neither of them was sure what they would do without the other, but they both figured they would put that thought off for as long as possible. For now, they just wanted to be present together, keeping company in each other’s warm embrace.

Back at the cabins, Jamie and Erin were chilling in their respective beds. Erin was reading a book, while Jamie played with a baseball, bored out of her mind. She suddenly looked over at Erin, who was still wearing her headphones around her neck.

“I’m bored,” Jamie said, getting Erin’s attention. “Do you wanna do something?”

Erin, sensing that Jamie wanted her full attention, placed a bookmark in her novel. “Like what?” She asked.

Jamie pondered before suggesting, “I kinda wanna go back to that lake. You feel like swimming?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I’m not much of a swimmer.”

“Do you know how?”

“I do, I just… don’t do it very often.”

“Well, why not do it now? Did you pack a swimsuit?”

Erin wasn’t sure why, but she felt herself blushing at the question. Erin wasn’t the most comfortable person in swimming attire, especially not around someone she just met, and especially not around someone as intriguing and alluring as Jamie was.

“I-I, well, I— I mean, I did, but—” Erin stuttered.

“Okay!” Jamie popped off her bed. “Then let’s go!”

“Oh, uh, r-right now?”

“Yes, silly, that’s why I asked if you wanted to do something,” Jamie said in a light-hearted tone to let Erin know she was joking and not actually making fun of her.

“Oh, o-okay, sure!” Always the people-pleaser, Erin put her book aside and got up to get her swimsuit.

Jamie took a quick moment as she observed Erin rummaging through her bag. There was something adorable and charming about Erin’s awkwardness that Jamie couldn’t really explain. Jamie had been aware of her attraction to girls for a while now, but this attraction was especially interesting to Jamie because Erin wasn’t typically her type. She was used to being attracted by the girls who exuded even more confidence than Jamie did, but there was something about Erin’s soft and caring nature that Jamie couldn’t help but be drawn in by. Though Erin likely saw herself as an open book, she was somewhat of a mystery to Jamie, who couldn’t wait to learn more about her.

Once the girls both had their swimsuits on underneath their camp clothes, they started on their way back to the lake. They walked in silence for a few minutes, appreciating the nighttime ambiance, before Jamie noticed that Erin still had her headphones around her neck even though they were going to go swimming.

“Hey, can I ask you about something?” Jamie asked.

“Sure.”

“What are those headphones for? The ones you’re always wearing?”

“Oh,” Erin blushed as she looked down at said headphones, not even realizing she was still wearing them. “I guess I just get so used to having them on me, sometimes I forget to take them off when I don’t need them.”

“Have you ever fallen asleep with them on?”

“No…” Erin chuckled before a realization hit her. “Wait, yes…”

Now Jamie chuckled. “Yes?”

“Yeah, I forgot that one time I— well, it’s kind of embarrassing…” Erin trailed off.

“You can tell me,” Jamie reassured, “I won’t judge you. Trust me, I’ve heard plenty of crazy stuff from plenty of people, nothing really fazes me anymore.” Jamie and Erin both chuckled.

“Well, sometimes I use them for noise canceling. You know, to drone out overwhelming noise?”

“Yeah, lots of people like noise-canceling headphones.”

“Right, and, well… One night I heard… some people arguing and it just got to be a little too much for me, so I put them on and curled up in my bed, trying to ignore it, and I… eventually just fell asleep,” Erin let out a sheepish chuckle, not sure if she was sounding dumb or crazy or both.

“Ah, I’m sorry those people were arguing so much,” Jamie frowned.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

From Erin’s demeanor and tone of voice, Jamie could sense that the arguing wasn’t just annoying neighbors, but likely possibly coming from somewhere within the same house that she had been in. Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, Jamie changed the subject.

“So, what do you wanna do when you grow up?”

“Me? Oh, I don’t know…” Erin pondered the question before replying, “Well, I like doing sound editing.”

“What does that entail?”

“Sound editing? Well, it’s kind of like how movie editors choose certain sound effects for their scene, or how they’ll balance their channels so that the music doesn’t overpower the dialogue or vice versa. I’ve been doing it for a little while by making edits and things, but I’m just getting into doing it for shows. This past year, I helped with the sound design for a show that the theatre department put on at my school. It was really fun, and they said they’re always in need of more tech people, because, y’know, most kids want to do acting, so I said that sounded great, and…” Erin suddenly realized she was probably rambling. Feeling self-conscious, she quickly finished her thought, “Anyway, yeah, sound design! I like it,” she let out another sheepish chuckle.

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Jamie smiled at her genuinely, allowing Erin to relax the tension she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’m glad you’ve already found something you’re so passionate about, not everybody has something like that.”

“What about you?”

“Nah, not really. I kinda like art but I have no idea what I’d do with it, you know?”

“Well,” Erin started, “I think the thing about art, is you can do anything you want with it, really. What kind of art do you like?”

“I dunno… I like colors.”

“Have you thought about technical theatre at all? Maybe you could do lighting design. They use colors all the time, depending on the mood and atmosphere of the scene.”

“I hadn’t really thought about that, no. Maybe I’ll look into it,” Jamie smiled at Erin, who returned the smile.

When they finally reached the lake, Jamie stood up on a rock that looked much too slippery to Erin.

“Careful, Jamie!”

Jamie chuckled, “I’m fine, don’t worry.” She looked at Erin, who looked even more captivating under the moonlight shining through the trees. “You know, you’re cute when you worry about my well-being like that.”

“I just don’t want you to—” Erin cut herself off, realizing what Jamie had just said. “Wait, cute?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Jamie said, not backing down from her very true observation regarding Erin’s adorableness.

Erin’s cheeks suddenly felt very hot. “I— I don’t—” Erin stuttered, hoping that it was too dark for Jamie to see just how red her face had turned. “I don’t know what you’re—” Unsure of what to do with her body, Erin awkwardly shifted her feet, accidentally stepping on one of the wet rocks. “Oh!”

Erin suddenly slipped and stumbled forwards, into Jamie’s readied arms.

“Whoa! You okay there?” Jamie chuckled as she helped Erin get reoriented on her feet.

“Oh, y-yeah, thanks…” Erin started blushing even more, which she hadn’t even thought was possible. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Of course,” Jamie replied as she sat down on one of the drier rocks. Erin slowly followed suit, making sure to check that the rock was dry before sitting on it. When she was seated, she let out a small huff.

“How are you so…” Erin trailed, searching for the right word.

“Awesome?”

“Cool. I mean, like— chill.”

“You mean how am I so confident?”

“Y-yeah, I— guess that’s the word I was looking for.” Erin smiled sheepishly.

Jamie shrugged, “I don’t know, I guess I just learned how to fake it really well.”

“You mean, you… don’t actually feel confident?”

“Well, no, I do— but I didn’t always. I guess my dad kinda helped me with that. He’s an actor, so I guess it kind of runs in the family… even though I’m adopted,” Jamie cocked an eyebrow, realizing how silly it sounded for her to have inherited something from someone she wasn’t biologically related to. It was the first time that day that Erin had noticed Jamie double-guessing something she said, which made her seem a lot more relatable than she originally did.

Erin smiled at her. “That still makes sense, though, if he taught you.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jamie returned the smile.

They both made direct eye contact for the first time that day and instantly found themselves looking into each other’s eyes for longer than anticipated. Neither of them could quite place their finger on just what exactly was so intriguing to them about the other person, but they were both experiencing the same butterflies and racing heartbeat. They weren’t sure what gravitational force was at play when they found themselves slowly leaning in, suddenly much closer to each other.

Jamie broke the silence, “Am I crazy, or do you feel something too?”

“I-I don’t know, I mean… I feel— something, I just— it’s new to me,” Erin admitted, having little to no experience with crushes or the like.

Jamie smiled at her. “It’s new to everyone at some point. I can help show you if you want,” Jamie said, not wanting Erin to feel pressured.

Erin blushed again. The idea sounded so daunting to Erin, but in a completely amazing and incredibly tempting way. She had never received this type of attention before and she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Not knowing how to respond, Erin simply nodded.

“Okay, only if you’re sure though,” Jamie reassured.

“Y-yeah, sure, I’m sure,” Erin stuttered, causing Jamie to emit a small chuckle.

Jamie looked back into Erin’s eyes, ensuring that she was good, before finally closing the gap and tenderly touching her lips to Erin’s. Erin quickly leaned into it, giving Jamie the greenlight to deepen the kiss on her end as well. Her hands swiftly moved to Erin’s face, placing each palm on a — still very red — cheek. Erin placed her hands on Jamie’s upper arms, not completely sure about what to do with them. The two of them both leaned into the kiss more, but Erin must have leaned in a little too far because she suddenly slipped off the rock she was sitting on and plopped onto the ground, breaking the kiss and catching Jamie off-guard.

“Oof,” Erin grunted as she dropped to the ground.

“Oh, are you okay?” Jamie asked with a hint of amusement in her tone.

“Ugh, yeah… I should have figured that would happen to me,” Erin said, chuckling at her own misfortune. Jamie joined in her giggling, slipping off of her rock and joining Erin on the ground.

“Maybe we can try again later, when we’re in a drier environment,” Jamie suggested.

Erin perked back up. “Y-yeah, that would be— great. Maybe there’ll be fewer rocks, too,” she joked, and the two of them giggled some more.

“Well,” Jamie said, leaning back on her hands and looking up at the night sky, “Maybe for now, we can just admire the stars and listen to the crickets.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Erin smiled as she joined Jamie in looking at the sky. “It’s so beautiful here. You can’t see the stars anywhere near this well back in the city.”

Jamie looked at her. “What city are you from?”

“Chicago.”

“Dude, no way, that’s where I’m from too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should definitely keep in touch after camp is over. If you want to, of course.”

Erin giggled, “Yeah, I think I’d love to.”

The two of them smiled at each other, both even more excited for the summer they were about to have than they originally were. After a moment, they turned their gazes back to the clear night sky.

Jamie pointed up at something she saw. “Is that a shooting star?”

Erin looked at where she was pointing and squinted before giggling. “No, I think that’s just a plane.”

“Oh,” Jamie said, disappointed, as she put her hand back down on the ground behind her. “Can’t believe I was just about to make a wish on a plane,” Jamie joked, earning an even heartier giggle from Erin, which of course made Jamie smile.

The two of them sat in quiet for a moment before Erin asked, “So, uh… Were we going to go swimming? I mean, like, did you still want to?”

‘Yeah, for sure, I mean… if you want to,” Jamie looked at Erin, who returned the gaze.

Erin shrugged, “I dunno, I mean… I’m pretty good just looking at the stars, but I don’t know about you.”

Jamie smiled. “I’m good with that too.”

Erin smiled back at her. “Cool,” she said before catching Jamie’s eye.

They both leaned in and shared another gentle kiss before pulling back, Erin feeling her cheeks get flushed once again. After a moment, they both gazed back up at the twinkling stars and sat there for a good while, simply enjoying each other’s company and the atmosphere around them.