#but its difficult to replicate just from memory

[soapeter]

i will finalise a johnny design at some point ppllllls bare with

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

okay so i'm the anon who first brought up memory wiping shifter!stan and i just need to ramble because this more canon-adjacent version of the timeline has been festering in my brain now.

- the stealing of ford's identity part is fun bc now stan can actually perfectly replicate his appearance, extra fingers and all. probably makes it into part of his gimmick at the shack (why does he need the shack if he has money in this au? idk man i haven't figured that out yet but he has it). that does create an issue when dipper finds the journal and brings it to stan bc of the finger thing, but stan just flat out denies any connection to it. he can't just confiscate the thing though bc that would be suspicious as fuck, so he spends a significant amount of time trying to get his hands on it to make copies without the kids noticing.

- he probably loses a bit of his shifting flexibility due to having a more permanent shift (he's at least less flexible than he was during his drifter days) but he still does some stretching down in the lab. i also imagine that when he's down there he uses his shifting as a way fidget/stim while he works. he also probably uses it to keep an eye on the kids a non-zero number of times.

- i'm imagining the reveal happening in scary-oke, similar to the canon reveal there. this is also when he can finally take the journal for a bit, using the excuse that dipper did something actively dangerous with it and this is the punishment. he still gives it back when he has his copies.

- looking over that journal he finds out about shifty and he is immediately staging a rescue

- ford probably finds out about stan's shifting when he comes out of the portal and stan has 6 fingers. it's... tense.

- i think if maurice is involved they probably know about the whole situation from investigating stan's fake death and/or stan just telling them bc if there's one person stan can trust with that information, it's probably them. stan continues to call them twice a year and they continue to pretend they aren't invested. maybe they can get in on freeing shifty.

i'm just!! foams at the mouth because i can't write for shit but oh man. oh god. this au is killing me

Shapeshifter Stan is so fun. I'll probably write the next (and maybe final) chapter when i'm done with the next cat Stan short.

More under the cut, because it got very long

Stan stealing Ford's identity is definitely him becoming Ford in a very literal sense, letting his original base form disappear forever at 17. Because he thinks Ford knows he's a shapeshifter, and he'll just seamlessly transition them once Ford gets home. I imagine it followed the original timeline with him showing up with his face covered, then quickly shifting to look like Ford with minor differences and revealing his face so he wasn't embarrassed about his baby face. He makes the shack to launder his own money so that it doesnt appear that Ford just got a million of dollars from nowhere, and because he doesn't want to continue his brother's research without him. So from an outside perspective Stanford Pines had a mental break, and started giving tours (just like canon lol). Stan makes everything fake, because he doesn't want to get on the bad side of any real supernatural creatures hanging around. As for the journal, I imagine Dipper runs up and shows it off, and Stan says its nonsense from when he 'went crazy in the eighties! nothing to worry about!' but he also can't take it without looking suspicious. Now the b plot becomes not 'who's the author' but 'what happened to Grunkle Stan that he forgot all his amazingly real research.' Stan still has to try and steal the book without notice, but can also shapeshift into the twins so its not an impossible mission, just very difficult.

Stan definitely becomes less flexible, but not terribly so. Limbs have always been his bread and butter, and he makes himself stronger and fireproof while working on the portal. Gives himself extra hands to multitask, the ability to climb better to reach the higher mechanics. The portal probably looks better the OG Stan's, just because he has more maneuverability. He also 100% spies on the kids in the 'hands-off' stalker raising technique he was raised with. Closes the Shack down and turns into people to follow the twins around and keep an eye on them.

In keeping with the 'no one realizes he's a shapeshifter until his mind is wiped' angst, the reveal is that he "did" write the books, but that they became dangerous, similar to Stan's 'this stuff is dangerous I'm not an idiot' speech. He still takes the journal to 'reminisce' but gives it back, saying that he knows the kids have been using it to keep themselves safe. Claims any lapse in memory as 'it was the eighties and I went through a rough patch and forgot a bunch of things'. Dipper thinks cult (blind eye that falls through) Mabel thinks mental break (official story but also wrong).

Now the question about Shifty is tricky, because Stan would want to rescue the poor kid his brother treated as a pet(Which is weird, because Ford knew about shapeshifters, but maybe he didnt realize they were the same species because he never saw the form Stan was born with), but I think it would happen after the bunker episode, so that the kids still get that shapeshifter experience. Stan goes down, sees poor Shifty is still a popsicle, and calls a bunch of his circle to help him out, as this is a special case. They'd probably come in, unfreeze him, then get him out of Gravity Falls and rehabilitate him in a more social Shifter group. Stan wouldn't use Fords form here, as he wouldnt want to cause a scene, but would explain that the man who sorta raised him isnt around anymore, and to try and find a new life out on the surface.

For the portal reunion, Stan explains he 'got an extra finger' and Ford brushes it off as a fake or medically transferred in a way too try-hard move of stealing his identity. Because Stan wouldn't look exactly like old man Ford, as he's had to guess how Ford's changed over the years, so his hairs still full grey and he looks slightly different. Ford 100% does not realize Stan's a shapeshifter at this time, but Stan doesnt realize that Ford doesnt know either, still making vague references to being a shapeshifter that aggravates Ford because he thinks Stan is being childish, then Stan thinks that because of Fords experience with Shifty that maybe he doesnt like Stan anymore in a big circle of miscommunication.

Maurice 100% knows whats going on (maybe not about the portal specifics, but enough) and only some of that is from Stan calling them. The rest is from his constant spying on Stan. So they know that Ford is missing in such a way that Stan is working on retrieving him, just not about Bill and the doomsday device in Stan's basement. Maurice does get his two or more phone calls a year and calls on birthdays. Probably also helped find a circle to adopt Shifty, since they're fairly well connected. There's a fifty-fifty chance Stan has a younger spawn-mate at this time as well, but they wouldn't come into the story more then "please let me talk to them, i want an actual shapeshifter sibling, please please please!"

EXTRA: Stan would not have any spawn at this point, because he'd be focused on the portal and getting Ford back. Maurice becomes the 'and when am i going to see you spawning? you have a very rare talent you might be able to pass onto future spawn.' parent, always nagging Stan about his lack of spawn, despite being 'very genetically desirable' (Their way of saying attractive lol, because of Stan's limb growing). The parent who demands grand kids basically.

[metalomagnetic]

Snippet for It runs

So, I injured myself, and it's difficult finding a comfortable position that would allow me to write, however, since I am now unable to work, I am doing my best to finish the chapter for It runs.

Unfortunately, I can only bear to sit up when I take my pills, and my pills make me a little...ugh...high, so I'll have to revisit what I write when I'm clear of mind.

Until then, here is a little snippet of a tortured mind on pain pills and muscle relaxants.

***

It’s an early afternoon, he’s seated at his desk, and he knows he has to take the ring off, he knows he doesn’t have much longer, that the Horcrux is gaining too much power, too quickly.

So Sirius tries removing it, and he slides it upwards, all the way to the second knuckle-

He blinks, and he’s in Tom’s flat again. His head throbs, he feels nauseous, disorientated at the change of scenery, from day to night, from his office to Tom’s place.

Tom kneels before him, crying. “Don’t abandon me,” he begs. “Please, don’t throw me away! I’ve been alone for so long, Sirius, in the dark, blind, deaf and cold. Please, please don’t throw me away!”

Snap out of it, Sirius tells himself. Wake up!

He blinks, and he’s in his office, collapsed near the desk and his chair.

It’s frightening the ring has this level of control already, that it can control him even when he’s not sleeping-

“Please!” He’s back in the flat, before he knows it, Tom still kneeling, holding on to Sirius’ legs, much like Harry does when he wants something. “I’ve been alone all my life. No one wanted me. No one ever wanted me! Not even him! He threw me away, too- Sirius!”

It breaks his heart, even as something weak and fading fast in his mind yells at him that it’s all a trick, that it’s just a dark artefact using everything it can to keep its hold of Sirius.

But-

He can’t ignore it. It might be a Horcrux, but Voldemort is real, Tom Riddle was once real, and alone, and Sirius cannot abandon him.

It knows it, too, that is why it’s using the word ‘alone’ so much, because it knows it’s something that Sirius always associated with Voldemort, that it always hurt him to imagine him as a child, with no one in his corner.

“You have to stop,” Sirius tells him. “You’re too aggressive, you’re taking too much.”

“I’ll be good,” Tom begs. “Please! You won’t even know I’m here anymore, I’ll stay hidden, anything you want, just don’t throw me away!”

Sirius kneels in front of him, and Tom is so quick, throwing his long arms around Sirius’ neck, hiding his face in Sirius’ shoulder.

“You’ll possess me,” Sirius says, so, so tired.

“No, no, I won’t! I promise! I’ll be good-“

“You’re lying,” he whispers.

Tom is an impression of Voldemort, an amalgamation of his traits and memories, but he’s not the real deal. He doesn’t lie as smoothly as Voldemort.

Maybe because he was too young when he made the Horcrux, or maybe it’s just that a Horcrux could never be as complex as a real human being. Whatever it is, Sirius sees through his lies.

But he can’t stay indifferent to Tom’s pain, his desperation as he hugs Sirius.

That is real, even if Tom isn’t. It’s Sirius’ pain and fear manifested through Tom, stolen by Tom, replicated to perfection, and Sirius cannot stay indifferent to it.

“Let me go.”

“Don’t-“

“I won’t throw you away, but I need you to let me go, now. If you don’t, I’ll pull myself out and then I will take the ring off. I’ll throw you into the fucking ocean.”

Tom draws back, and his eyes are clear, calculating, even as tears are drying on his face.

“You threw him away. He’s suffering, and you won’t help him. Is it not enough you abandoned him? Now you want to get rid of me, too? He gave me to you, trusted you with my safety, and now you’re thinking of betraying him again?”

“I didn’t betray-"

“I know your every thought, all your emotions. You cannot hide from me. I’m meant to absorb it all. And I did the same when he wore me. I saw his every thought, I absorbed every feeling you awoke inside him. His trust in you was unwavering. He didn’t doubt you for a second, when he decided to give me away, when he took me off and transferred me to you. He loved you.”

Tom’s eyes narrow. “Traitor,” he whispers, and he pushes Sirius, hard-

Sirius blinks, and he’s on his back, in his office. He’s shaking, and it takes several tries to stand up.

But it’s quiet, he feels alone, Tom retreating, diminishing his influence over Sirius.

He breathes easier, and he hadn’t realised it’s been hard to breathe lately.

[bowlofmie]

some of my favorite DS games I never see people talk about (as a DS owner of 15 years) :

Petz Rescue Endangered Paradise

this is a random one, but it's genuinely really good. the characters have a lot of depth and are interesting. the characters design is really nice and I love the colors. teaches a lot about environmentalism and has an interesting story that plays with modern science and indigenous land. worth a play!

Tetris ds

such a cool version of tetris! i love all the extra modes and the classic NES Nintendo theme! lots of fun, and up there as one of my favorite versions of Tetris, and that's saying something.

Peggle ds

oh yeah. I had a peggle moment. that lasted a hot minute. thanks Doug Doug. I literally couldn't sleep because I was thinking about this game. and I really like this version of it! there's an extra kind of peg that isn't in the regular version and I think it's a nice addition, and it's every bit as satisfying but completely portable! not to mention it comes with both peggle and peggle nights!

Diddy Kong Racing ds

I have extremely vivid memories of playing this until my ds lite died, charging it, and then playing it again. i love that you can explore an open world in this game. it's the main thing that kept me coming back, but the racing is also lots of fun and the graphics feel so nostalgic and fun. I may have even played this solo more than Mario kart DS.

Mario Party ds

when I think of Mario party, this is what I think of. being able to play with one cartridge and 4 people anywhere is absolutely unmatched. and if you're alone, the solo play and puzzle games are really fun on their own! i still play this game with my little sisters regularly, and it was a classic in my childhood friend group. probably the most popular game on this list, but I wanted to mention it.

NYT Crosswords

such a cool game! the graphics are really well done and so are the sound effects. I love that there's a multiplayer option so you can solve a puzzle with a friend. I used to play it with my partner and it was lots of fun. the puzzles are a lot more difficult than modern day nyt crosswords, but they have a hint option if needed.

Bejeweled Twist

I got this game at a GameStop for like 5 bucks when I was a kid and I was genuinely hooked. I played it constantly. there's more to it than regular bejeweled so it kept my attention, but there's also lots of levels and puzzles

Art Academy

as an art student, I have to say that this game and it's sequels on the 3ds can function as essentially a semester or so of art school. they teach a lot of the basics in a really approachable way, and I learned a lot from them. also a big fan of how they replicated traditional media digitally. super charming and cute recurring characters, like Bacon the dog, make it feel more grounded. the lessons are really good, but it also just feels nice to doodle.

Gardening Mama

this was my favorite of the ___ing mama games when I was younger. I actually learned a lot about real gardening that ended up being helpful irl. it's a simple game, but being able to make your own garden and harvest from it is such a fun extra feature.

Retro Game Challenge

you get sent back in time and have to beat classic video games to get back. so much personality. it had me actually laughing at some points. the graphics are so classically DS and I love them. lots of fun!

G. G Series Wonderland

an Alice in wonderland themed top down shooter? uh yeah?? really fun and fast paced! i like to play this one mindlessly.

G. G Series Hero Puzzle

really cool! almost a tetris rogue-lite? there's combat and upgrades and weapons and its really fun!

GO Series Bass Fishing and Fishing Resort

my favorite fishing game!! so much personality! so many cute little mechanics and the characters are so cute! begging on my hands and knees for more people to play this game!!

Picross 3D

thank you to Best Buy for having this game on a tester DS back in the day. i love love love this one. the graphics are classic DS, and look so clean and fun. the puzzles themselves are so well designed, and I love the sound track. i have so many hours in this game it's maybe embarrassing. gotta say I was a little let down by the sequel because there was so much less personality, but it was still fun.

Over the Hedge: Hammy Goes Nuts

got this game with my original ds lite when I was around 8. I was so obsessed with it lol. there's a lot to do, and I always felt like I was exploring a big world. (not to be confused with the game of the same name on the GBA. for some reason that one is a golf game?)

DK Jungle Climber

genuinely very confused that I've never seen anyone talk about this one. it's a lot of fun and it was one of my favorites as a kid (my L button was broken though so it was a bit rough to play at the time lol) lots of personality, satisfying gameplay, and lots of fun levels to play!

Alice in Wonderland

reminds me a bit of a Metroidvania. cute characters and interesting dialogue. lots of interesting mechanics and fun to explore.

Wario Master of Disguise

i love the wario land games and this one is a fun one I never see lumped with the rest of them. there are some touch based micro games but I think they're fun and as is the case with every wario game, great level design and so much personality.

Sims 2 Castaway

try to pry this game out of my dead hands. try. i love this game. i have so many hours in it. lots of depth and fun things to do! the PSP version is also lots of fun!

Sudoku Ball

this is a funky one. solve sudoku puzzles that are in a big ball and also solve mysteries at the same time. a little bit layton-esque? also reminds me of detective Conan for some reason.

Tinker Bell

almost reminds me of animal crossing or stardew with lots of little mini games. one of my childhood faves.

Pac Pix

another childhood fave. you draw pacmen (? pacmans?) and catch ghosts. cool graphics and fun gameplay.

SEGA Super Stars Tennis

my favorite tennis game! so fun! the graphics are really cool, love all the character options, and the gameplay is so fun.

Tamagotchi Connection Corner Shop 3

build up little shops in a tamagotchi town! my mom used to get so mad because I used to play this game at full volume because I loved the sound effects lol. i particularly love the archeology game and the piano game, but they're all lots of fun.

[lifeofpriya]

Lessons and Kisses - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: this was inspired by @pyotrkochetkov and i's chat about what jack would be like when he's teaching his partner tennis 🥺😩

summary: while trying to teach you tennis, Jack's attention is constantly drawn away and struggles to keep his eyes on the ball and his heart on the game...

"Jack, I swear, I can't hit this ball to save my life," you say, laughing as the yellow sphere sails past you once again.

Jack chuckles and strides over to you, his footsteps echoing gently on the pristine clay court. "You're overthinking it, that's all. Just like when you worry about work or what to wear on our dates." He takes the racket from your hand and demonstrates a smooth, practiced swing. The air whispers as the ball zooms towards the opposite end of the court. "It's all about muscle memory and not psyching yourself out."

You watch him, the way his muscles ripple under the sun-kissed skin, the determination etched into his features. "Easy for you to say," you reply, your voice laden with playful sarcasm. "You've been playing since you were a toddler."

Jack smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. "And you've been captivating people since you were born." He gently places the racket back in your hand. "Now, let's try this again. Remember, watch the ball, keep your eyes on it, and swing when it's right in front of you."

You nod, trying to focus on the lesson, but the warmth of his touch lingers. The scent of freshly cut grass and his subtle cologne fills your senses, making it difficult to think about anything else. The sun casts a soft glow on his medium brown hair as he takes his position opposite you. The light breeze whispers through the leaves of the trees surrounding the court, carrying the distant sound of a dog barking.

Jack serves the ball. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to concentrate. The racket feels heavier than before, as if it's a part of you now. You watch the ball intently, tracking its path through the air. Just as Jack instructed, you swing when it's perfectly aligned with your body. For a moment, time seems to slow down, the only sound the rhythmic thwack of the ball connecting with the strings.

The ball sails over the net and lands with a soft thud on the other side, bouncing just within the lines. "Yes!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of excitement. You've hit it correctly.

You see the delight spread across Jack's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's it," he says, clapping. "You're a natural."

Emboldened, you serve the next ball. It's not perfect, but it's better than your first few attempts. Jack returns it with ease, his movements fluid and precise. The back-and-forth dance of the tennis ball becomes a mesmerizing rhythm, one that you're slowly starting to follow. Each swing feels more natural, and with each hit, your confidence grows.

"Good," he says, his voice filled with genuine encouragement. "Now, let's work on your backhand."

Jack approaches the net, his eyes never leaving yours. He tosses you a new ball, which you catch with surprising ease. The fuzzy sphere feels warm from the sun and slightly damp from the sweat on your palms. You take your stance, feeling the cool shade of the court's edge brush against your skin. He demonstrates the backhand technique, his racket carving a graceful arc through the air.

"Your turn," he says, stepping back and giving you space.

You toss the ball up, the sun glinting off it as it reaches its peak. Your heart races as you try to replicate the motion he's shown you. The ball comes down, and you swing, feeling the sweet spot of the racket connect. The ball sails over the net, and Jack nods approvingly. It's not perfect, but the thrill of improvement sends a jolt through your veins.

"Better," he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Now, let's add a bit of power to it."

Jack stands closer, his presence a comforting warmth as he adjusts your grip. His fingers are firm yet gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. "Keep your wrist firm and pivot your body when you hit it," he coaches, his voice low and reassuring.

You try again, focusing on his instructions. This time, when the ball meets your racket, there's a satisfying crack, and the ball zooms across the court. It's not as precise as Jack's shots, but the power behind it surprises both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad," he says, his eyes gleaming. "But let's work on your footwork."

Jack hits a series of balls toward you, forcing you to move side to side, your sneakers squeaking on the court. His eyes are sharp, watching your every move, analyzing your technique. Each time you hit the ball, his feedback is immediate and precise, pushing you to be better. Despite the heat of the day, you feel invigorated, the challenge of the lesson invigorating your spirit.

As you practice, you become increasingly aware of Jack's gaze. It's not just focused on your form; it's as if he's trying to read your every thought. You stumble slightly on a shot, and he's there, his hand steadying you.

"Woah there, partner," Jack says with a laugh, catching you before you topple over. His hand lingers on your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin. You blush, the heat from the sun and his touch mixing into an intoxicating warmth. "You're getting better, but don't let your enthusiasm trip you up."

He steps back, giving you a playful nudge with his racket. "Now, let's focus on your footwork." He hits a slow, lobbing shot over the net, which you manage to return, albeit awkwardly. "Good," he says, nodding. "But remember, speed and agility are key in tennis. It's like a dance, you know?"

Jack starts to hit the ball closer to the net, making you run forward to meet it. You feel clumsy at first, your feet stumbling over themselves, but gradually you find your rhythm. The soft thump of the ball on the clay and the squeak of your shoes become a symphony of effort and improvement. Each step feels lighter, more coordinated. The scent of the court fills your nostrils, mixing with the faint smell of Jack's deodorant. It's a smell you've come to associate with excitement and challenge.

"Jack! Focus, will you?" You laugh, swiping a strand of hair out of your face as you watch him stare at you with a glazed look.

Jack snaps out of his daze. "What? Oh, right, the lesson." He chuckles, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Sorry, you're just…distracting."

You roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat at the compliment. "Keep it professional, Draper," you tease, but the smolder in his gaze tells you he's not entirely joking.

Jack clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Alright, let's practice volleys," he says, his voice slightly huskier than before. He moves closer to the net, his eyes locked on yours, challenging you to match his intensity.

You approach the net, feeling the tension in the air thicken. Each step is deliberate, your heart racing as much from the exercise as from the electricity between you. The sun is now high in the sky, casting a warm embrace over the court, the shadows of the surrounding trees stretching lazily. You watch as Jack hits a ball towards you, its trajectory perfect for a volley. You lunge forward, your racket poised, and hit the ball back with a solid thwack.

Jack's eyes widen slightly as the ball sails back over the net. "Impressive," he murmurs, a hint of surprise in his voice.

The subsequent few volleys are a blur of motion and adrenaline. Your reflexes sharpen as you anticipate his moves, and the air crackles with energy. You can feel your muscles warming up, your breath coming in quick gasps as you push yourself to keep up with Jack's skill. Despite the seriousness of the lesson, there's a playfulness to it, a flirty challenge in every exchange.

Jack's shots become faster, more unpredictable, and you find yourself leaning into the game, your body moving almost on its own. You're not just trying to hit the ball; you're trying to impress him. And with each successful volley, his eyes light up brighter, his smile broader.

The sound of your rackets colliding with the ball echoes through the quiet afternoon air, punctuated by the occasional bird call or rustle of leaves. You're both sweating now, your skin glistening in the sun, your clothes sticking to your bodies. But you're in the zone, lost in the rhythm of the game, the thrill of competition, and the undeniable pull between you.

Jack's eyes never leave yours, his concentration unwavering as he feeds you ball after ball. The air feels charged with something more than just the physical exertion of the game. Each hit feels like a silent conversation, a dance of attraction and challenge. Your heart beats in time with the thump of the tennis balls, and you can't help but notice the way his shirt clings to his chest as he moves.

"What do you say we make this a little more interesting?" Jack suggests, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing a line of sweat across his skin. "If I win this next point, I get a kiss," he says, raising the stakes.

You laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "And if I win?"

Jack grins, his dimples deepening. "Whatever you want."

The tension shifts, the air charged with a new kind of excitement. You line up for the next volley, your heart racing. He serves the ball, and you watch it closely, timing your jump just right. As you make contact, you feel the perfect combination of power and precision, sending the ball back to Jack's side of the court. He's caught off guard, and it hits the net.

"My serve," you say with a smug smile, stepping back to catch your breath.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, the playful glint not fading. "Alright, but remember, no holding back."

You serve the ball, feeling the heat of his gaze as it flies over the net. He returns it swiftly, and you're back in the rhythm, your bodies moving in sync despite the competitive banter. The ball slices through the air, a blur of yellow against the blue sky. You both dive for it, your rackets colliding in a flurry of motion.

As you both straighten up, the air between you thick with anticipation, the ball hits the net and drops to the ground. "Match point," you say, panting slightly.

Jack's grin widens, and he nods, raising his racket in a salute. "Alright, one more. Let's make it count."

You serve again, the ball spinning through the air, a blur of yellow against the vibrant green of the surrounding trees. Jack leaps into action, his racket slicing through the air with a sharp crack. The ball zooms back at you, and you return it with a volley, your body moving almost on instinct. The ball goes back and forth, both of you pushing your limits, the air around you electric with anticipation.

As you watch the ball come towards you for what feels like the final time, you know you have to give it everything you've got. You lean in, your muscles tensing, and hit it with all the power and finesse you can muster. It sails over the net and lands just inside the line. "Match," you declare, breathless and triumphant.

Jack laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't see that one coming." His smile is genuine, the kind that makes your stomach do somersaults. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body. "Looks like I owe you one," he says, his eyes dropping to your lips.

You lean in slightly, the anticipation building like the crescendo of a symphony.

"What'll it be?" He asks, his voice low and teasing. You feel the heat of his breath against your cheek, and for a moment, you're lost in his eyes, a swirl of hazel that seems to hold a universe of secrets and promises.

"A kiss," you reply, your voice a whisper, the challenge in your eyes matching his.

Jack's smile turns into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He takes a step closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body as he leans in. His breath mingles with yours. The world seems to hold its breath around you, the only sound the distant chirp of a bird and the thud of your racing hearts.

As your lips meet, the intensity of the moment hits you like a perfect ace. It's a kiss filled with the passion of the game, the sweet taste of victory, and the undeniable attraction that's been building since the lesson began.

Jack's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you melt into the embrace. The rackets clatter to the ground, forgotten as you lose yourself in the kiss. His lips are soft, yet firm, a mirror of the determination he shows on the court. You feel the roughness of his stubble against your skin, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

You both pull back slightly, breathless, eyes locked. The moment lingers, charged with a newfound intimacy. "Worth the wait?" You smirk, feeling your cheeks flush.

Jack nods, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "More than worth it." He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. His gaze drops to your mouth again, and you can't help but lean in for another kiss. This one is slower, more deliberate, as if he's savoring every second.

When you finally break away, you're both panting slightly. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden light across the court, turning it into a stage for your shared victory. "I think I've had enough lessons for today," you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, searching for something unspoken. He takes your hand, the calluses from his years of playing tennis a stark contrast to your soft skin. "Me too," he agrees, his voice hoarse.

You walk off the court together, your hand in his, the tension of the game now replaced by the gentle squeeze of his fingers. The sun is lower in the sky, painting the world in a warm, golden hue. The air is cooler, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the nearby garden. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the quiet understanding that comes from sharing an intense experience.

You sit on the bench beside the courts, the wood still warm from the day's heat. You take a swig from your water bottle, watching as Jack does the same, his throat working as he swallows. He sets the bottle down and looks at you, his eyes searching.

"What is it?" you ask, your voice still breathless from the exertion and the kiss.

Jack clears his throat, his hand still wrapped around yours. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his voice filled with wonder.

You blush, looking down at your tennis shoes, the laces loosened. "I'm a mess," you protest, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you.

Jack shakes his head, his eyes still holding yours. "You're perfect," he says, his voice earnest.

The words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest. You look up at him, your heart racing. "Jack," you whisper, not sure what to say.

He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you again. This time it's gentle, a promise of more to come. You melt into it, feeling the world spin around you. When you pull away, you're both grinning like fools, the thrill of the game and the excitement of the kiss intermingling in your veins.

[galaxyspeaking]

hi!! i just wanted to say your work has been such an inspiration to me for such a long time. the colors, the composition, the storytelling, everything is so beautiful. i’m actually also really interested in going into visdev and comic arts, but the school i am currently attending does not actually offer such related courses. seeing that you were in a similar position in the past, if its not too much of a bother, i was wondering if you had any advice on how to self-learn the skills needed in those industries and build a portfolio! tysmm!

Hi Anon!! That is so kind of you to say, truly! I deeply appreciate it <3.

I have actually been thinking about your question for a couple days now because I wanted to answer it the best way I could.

I think it's difficult for me to give advice on this because I started working 10 years ago and it was a completely different landscape then, both in terms of what the industry and social media were like! So I wanted to be truthful and preface this with a warning that what worked for me at the time might not be replicable now >.<.

I think something that will hopefully be more accessible to you now than it was for me at the time will be online courses and tutorials. I would say for visdev (I am not knowledgeable enough about comics to talk about them, so I hope that's okay) what you generally need to learn about are: color, light, perspective, composition. If you have disposable income, there might be paying classes that you could enroll in. From memory, Nacho Molina's, Yuhki Demers', Kat Tsai's and Ty Carter's have been lauded. Learning blender seems to be a really useful skill these days. Most of my friends working in visdev have taught themselves blender in the past few years!

Re: portfolio advice I might parrot the same age-old advice but studios will want to see how you approach tasks they might give you. visdev isn't just about pretty paintings, I'd say that's actually 10% of the job. The rest of it is designing environments, props, doing lots of callout sheets for other departments. So include props, show that you're thinking of a project in context. Something I did myself and tell other people to do is to either make up a story and treat it like a movie (what would this location look like? what choices would I make to convey the emotional beat of this moment, color and shape wise?), or use an existing one to do the same (do try not to pick one that has already been adapted or done a lot by other artists).

That's mostly what I did, and I also learned on the job which unfortunately doesn't seem to be the case for juniors anymore...

I also want to acknowledge that I got to where I am right now with a combination of hard work, but also and mostly luck and slowly building a network of peers (both online and offline). I was lucky enough to share my art online and have people resonate with it, which led to building genuine friendships which I'm incredibly thankful for. I wish the same to you and I hope my rambling helps, if even a little bit!

[kaesaaurelia]

3rd Life Space Colonist AU Concepts

So I'm very new to MCYT fandom, in the process of watching everything in the Life Series, but while I was watching 3rd Life I could not get the idea of this group having been sent to colonize an alien planet and it going very wrong.

But before things go wrong, they would have had specific roles and reasons they were picked, so I thought a bit about that, and once I had roles figured out I went and played around in Hero Forge to design the characters.

(Also, obviously there would be more than 14 people on an expedition like this and there's certain types of personnel they'd want more than one of, or who are conspicuously missing from this cast list.

You can make of that what you will.)

So, without further ado: some of the personnel aboard a ship heading to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, sent by totally not evil Mars-based corporation Farlands Planetary Systems:

SPACESHIP FLIGHT & MAINTENANCE

At this point in the future, there are machines that can do incredible things, but none of them can quite replicate whatever's going on in Scar's head human decision-making, and on longer journeys where the ship is required to make multiple FTL jumps in quick succession, human intuition and ingenuity are necessary for survival. To that end, pilots are directly plugged into their ships and to some extent, on longer journeys, become the ship. They need to be willing and able to do terrifying things without hesitation or consultation with others. Scar is great at this. He's also an absolute menace everywhere else, but in all fairness it's very hard for him to remember how gravity works on planets when he's used to using it to slingshot himself around in space.

Etho and BDubs aren't JUST there to maintain the ship mechanically -- they'll be rebuilding humanity's technological achievements from the ground up once they get to the planet -- but they're also vital to maintaining the ship across its long journey. BDubs is especially skilled at working in and navigating through zero gravity environments, and he's very used to doing floating repairs. This should have no lasting consequences for him once they get to a planet.

Tango is... an odd one. He's primarily a computer guy, and he's no slouch there, but he's never been on one of these expeditions himself -- see, his family's owned Farlands Planetary Systems for centuries, since before the Martian atmosphere had been been tamed and the planet's population was only a couple thousand. From his comfortable climate controlled office on Mars, he's looked over proposals, decided which ones were most likely to be successful, and signed off on countless exploration missions. He's watched them leave and mostly come back, and he's never encountered a high-risk high-reward situation he couldn't at least break even on. He's about to.

MEDICAL CARE

There's an extensive medical staff onboard, of course -- or there should be, anyway. I'm sure the others are fine!

Martyn is a generalist, good at figuring out what the hell is going wrong and how to stabilize someone's condition in the field with minimal resources. He's good at making difficult decisions quickly and making the sacrifices necessary for long-term survival.

Grian, meanwhile, is a specialist in neurology, and while he's meant to be looking after the whole crew, he's very important on this expedition because he is specifically a specialist in the connection between pilot and ship, and his task is primarily to keep the pilot alive at all costs.

Grian's also very excited about the pioneering medical procedure he's convinced Farlands to give all the personnel on this expedition, which will allow them to completely regenerate after dying -- at least twice! This has technically been possible for a while, but it's never been this fast, and they haven't been able to allow the subjects to retain their memories and personalities until now. It's still experimental but given the high risk nature and high cost of this particular expedition, he feels it's worth the risk, and most people jumped at having not only a second chance at life, but a third!

EXPLORATION & TERRAFORMING

Once they get to the planet, of course, they're going to need to figure out what's already there, and to transform it into a liveable place! So there are various experts who will explore the planet, conduct a full survey of its resources, and work to make it easier for humans to live there. Here we have experts in population biology, minerology, environmental chemistry, xenobotany, and agronomy.

Joel works for Farlands, usually traveling with his wife Lizzie, (an ethnopharmacologist). BigB tends to work on a contract -- there's a lot of call for minerologists in the outer solar system -- but if this expedition is successful, he'll never have to work again, and he won't have to go through the cycle of spending six lonely months in the Kuiper Belt, returning to Earth, then going back out again. Both of them think they know what they're getting into.

Cleo and Scott haven't worked for Farlands before, and are very surprised to be asked, as they have a shared checkered past. Cleo, in her younger days, was convicted of burning down the Martian Prime Minister's house. In fairness, a. he deserved it, and b. it was extremely flammable, because he destroyed a bunch of oxygen farms to build it, out of wood, and was not much of a believer in fire safety regulations. He was not home at the time, so he was fine, but about a year later he was assassinated. No one has ever been formally charged with the crime, but Scott, being one of Cleo's close friends, was the primary suspect. Both of their careers have suffered because of this -- Cleo can't get tenure anywhere, and Scott actually went into hiding for a time -- and while they don't trust Farlands even a little bit, they do like the idea of going somewhere that has no extradition treaties with Mars.

Like BigB, Jimmy's ready to cash out and settle down on a strange planet. He's going to be making sure people have enough edible food on this new planet, since there's no guarantee it will have edible plants or animals.

EXPERTS IN ALIEN LIFE

There's definitely not intelligent life on this new planet. It would be illegal for Farlands to settle a planet that was already occupied! They would never do anything illegal.

But maybe there used to be intelligent life there. Maybe the preliminary probes were inconclusive? Hmm. Anyway. Skizz is a xenoarchaeologist. He's also the only survivor of an expedition that went out in the early 22nd century; they encountered a strange and apparently hostile aliens. His memories are fuzzy and he doesn't remember much except for a strange floating city in a dark void. He made it back to Earth in a stolen alien ship, but while he was gone several hundred years had passed and now everyone he knows is dead. He's anxious to get back into the field, to a planet that is definitely a different one from the one he was sent to where all his friends died, and there's definitely no living intelligent life.

Impulse has been studying that ship Skizz brought back and he's pretty sure these aliens have figured out a method of stable, instant travel between any two distant points, which needless to say the company wants badly. This world seems to have traces of these

Impulse is a xenotechnologist who's pretty sure he's close to wrapping his brain around a method of stable two-way faster-than-light travel that seems to be in use by a distant alien civilization who may have left traces of themselves on this new planet. The company line is that he's also there just to study any remnants of high-tech alien civilizations, but he doesn't have a very good poker face and everyone suspects he knows something he's not letting on.

ALSO... REN

Ren is not a scientist. Ren is Martyn's husband. He is a relatively successful fantasy author whose first two books have sold well, but now he has to finish the trilogy and it's just. not. happening. Martyn had been planning not to go on this expedition -- has in fact been planning to stop going on lengthy expeditions in general, because he'd like to spend more time at home -- but Ren's so tired of his manuscript at this point that he is willing to pack up and move to another planet to avoid writing. He is anxious that people like him and think well of him and also anxious that they never ask him about the book. Please don't ask him what happens in the book. He thought he knew, but he doesn't.

The great thing about this expedition is that that's going to be the least of his problems very, very soon. (Also, he'll be blessedly relieved of the memory of the book, because, like the rest of the surviving crew, all of them will have very few solid memories of anything by the time they get to the planet. But, gotta look on the bright side, right?)

[tez144]

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes (2024)- Review

Planet of the Apes keeps evolving for the better.

Planet of the Apes is my all-time favourite franchise. It’s not hyperbole to say my excitement and expectations were at absolute peak for the 10th Apes film. And it didn’t disappoint.

Director Wes Ball puts out a banger of a film that is character driver, emotional, and has a clear focus on the story that is being told. Compared to the previous 3 films (Rise, Dawn & War) which were world-changing epic events, this is a smaller scale story that also does a fantastic job at world building, and tackling larger concepts of community, society and extreme theological diversity. This is filmmaking at its best; the motion-capture and CGI is outstanding, the score is iconic POTA and every actor, whether ape or human, hit their marks and give it 100%.

The story is centred around young chimpanzee Noa who is a member of the Eagle Clan, a community of Apes who keep and train eagles. The Eagle Clan are remote and have no contact nor much knowledge of the history of the wider world. As Noa goes on his adventure and learns of the world and their history, including the great ape Caesar, the audience does as well. It’s a great way to introduce the characters, allow us to form a connection with them, and learn where the Ape society and where the world has progressed to. It also allows it as an entry point into the story and world for anyone who hasn’t seen the previous films, which can be a difficult task for the 4th instalment of a film series (or 10th overall).

Kingdom picks up “many generations later” after the events in War. That wording itself says a lot about the world we are being introduced to. Time is no longer measured in years, or centuries. The human concept of time has been lost and is measured in a societal construct of generations.

I picked up many easter eggs from the previous films, ranging from replicating scenes, props and sounds. I’m sure I’ll pick up more on a second viewing. If you know the POTA lore and timeline(s), these easter eggs keep the film in the guidelines, whether it be Ape customs or specific moments we see in the future, as its moving towards the time-period set in the original 1968 film. Are these just fun easter eggs, or am I reading too much into them being a POTA nerd? Probably the latter.

I have a couple of nitpicks about how small parts of the story don’t quite connect, but that is very minor. Another point to note is the first teaser trailer made it sound like Noa had visions of the future ��when I sleep, I see strange things...not memories. New things. I see everything”. This whole story line has been cut from the movie. I’d be very curious to see that version of the film.

I could talk about this movie for hours, but I’ll hold back. Go and see it.

4.5 / 5 - Apes continue to be strong.

- Stay up to date on all my latest content on my Facebook page, Film & Flask.

[dhyanshiva]

songfic about support - 25.05.25

Title: this sinking feeling (knowing i can't help)

word count: 1968

category: m

pairing: dhruv/faruq

disclaimer: this is quite rushed and has only had an s + g check.

(i'd love to hear your thoughts on this, feel free to share!)

Don't cry, put your head on my shoulder Tell me what happened, my friend

Ever since having to forsake his home in Kashmir, Faruq hadn’t breathed a word about why, that much was clear to Dhruv. He didn’t dare look away in the silence that followed the two sentences of explanation. Of description, introduction even.

Faruq was still searching his expression for…. something. What, Dhruv could barely fathom. A handful of seconds later though, the furrow between his lover’s brows cleared and the tight band around Dhruv’s heart eased.

Uttering Shabbir chachu’s name after bringing it forth from the shadows of his bereaved heart and into the glaring light of the day had been difficult, clearly, but it can’t have been enough. Not for the Faruq Dhruv knew. Continued to know.

“Kya dekh lega tu.”

The intonation left it as a half question – half resigned statement. If nothing else, Dhruv was determined. Stubborn to a fault. If nothing else, he could at least offer to witness Faruq’s grief with him. Dhruv let go of his jacket sleeve to reach for his hand. After a moment’s stillness, he entangled their fingers, squeezing twice.

Faruq’s brow lifted, clearly lost.

“Tell me more about him. What’s he like?”

A few false starts later, Faruq was almost…. chatty. If it weren’t for the shining bruise on his cheekbone, Dhruv would’ve thought all these recollections were being revealed to him of free will.

And yet, with each sentence he uttered, the light, the spark was returning to Faruq. It showed in the way his body unfolded. From hunched to relaxed, limbs outstretched and face tilted from staring at his shoes to the sky.

Past – Faruq Manzoor had just turned 12 in the narration when present day – Faruq’s countenance shifted, the first shadow being cast. Dhruv pressed closer still. With the first shaky exhale, Dhruv moved to wrap around an arm around him. What he didn’t expect was for Faruq to collapse against him, the rest of his sentence becoming unintelligible as his face pressed against his chest, curls tickling the ridge of his collarbone.

Dhruv froze as Faruq’s arms wrapped around his torso first.

The narration of ages 12 – 16 felt more like a whisper, as if speaking directly to Dhruv’s heart, tucking each word, each secret, precious memory tucked safely between its rhythmic beats. Faruq didn’t cry, but it was a very near thing (as far as Shabbir Manzoor had gone, and then again, not at all).

The door is locked, the kettle's screaming And I can't stop this sinking feeling

Dhruv continued to hold Faruq as he described his abbu’s grief, his ammi’s silences, Saba’s sudden acceleration in her academic pursuits. His 17th birthday stood out to them all, Dhruv learned, if only for the accident that left Yusuf Manzoor with a burn scar on his wrist (hence the strictest adherence to full sleeves) and a mental scar for his son. Hence the opaque curtain on his personality, lifting only now. Only for him.

Faruq’s abbu had tried to make (recreate, replicate) his brother’s chai for his son’s birthday and dissociated. He’d forgotten to monitor the kettle and then –

Watching you do this damage to yourself Knowing I can't help

Dhruv’s breath caught in his chest as Faruq described everything falling apart at the seams. It’s not that saying it was making it hurt any less, hell no, but in all of this chapter, Dhruv could pick up on how the weight of guilt and shame had worsened, weakening the force of Faruq’s heartbeat.

Dhruv felt his own heart race instead as his Faruq described all of their attempts of returning to themselves, given that trying to find each other in the phantoms that remained had been proving far from useful an endeavour.

For Faruq, it had in part entailed re – accepting his sexuality, his desire, his wants. Then discovering an inroad to leaving again. Dhruv could hear the smile in Faruq’s voice as he described meeting Balli shortly after Saba had transferred to NK’s school.

A gentle breeze ruffled Faruq’s hair as they traversed closer still to the winter of just last year. Dhruv had to squeeze Faruq’s shoulder twice to cue him into pausing. His love pulled away concerned, only for the fear to fade at his one word, awkward clarification.

“Cramping.”

Dhruv couldn’t hold back his fond exasperation at Faruq’s needlessly guilty expression as he took in how the shades of their canopy – sky had changed for the first time in hours.

Don't cry, put your head on my shoulder

In changing their configuration and shifting about, a gossamer light veneer of…. composure had settled over Faruq. A web, even. He tried to stand even taller so Dhruv figured it was best to change their positions too to dispel the illusion that this was over. As his extremities regained sensation, His narration contorted itself again, and with it, tears began to track down Dhruv’s cheeks and he let his head rest atop Faruq’s shoulder instead.

Faruq squeezing his hand in gratitude as he continued to speak, bringing his story inevitably closer to the present moment. The ache in his chest lessened as Faruq declared with conviction that Shabbir chachu would’ve liked him.

What more could he ask for?

You're doing your best

It’s not that either of them had the habit of asking for things, as their lives had borne witness to, but they still had the freedom to hope, to dream. And then, one fateful afternoon, that too had changed for Dhruv and Faruq.

Two dining tables, kilometres apart, parents sat down to cross – examine their sons. They couldn’t come up with much, in the end. Aside from the fact that whatever they’d been doing hadn’t been enough, if this had been the outcome.

Yusuf Manzoor was disappointed more than he was furious. Deven Sanghvi was furious more than he was dismayed.

And what more can you do?

Their collective disappointment transformed into constraints descending onto their sons. They’d discovered there was still space left to act, if only to prevent their sons from acting out any further. Their wives, the mothers, stood disapproving – of what and who, neither men in either household could quite discern, but what did that matter, really?

In the end, it wasn’t death that was prising them away from their futures. It was something far slower, far more deceptive and in the days that followed, they both tried, then failed. Tried again, failed again. In the end, there was nothing more for it.

Take all the time that you need

Faruq’s ears rang as he stumbled back towards his room. Not once in this torturous fortnight had abbu yelled. Even so, the quiet, even tone he chose to use to inform Faruq about his wedding to a woman felt like he’d used a megaphone. The ticking of a clock counting down a month’s worth of time joined the words.

His shoulder caught the edge of a bedpost and Faruq fell to the floor. The skirmish rendered Saba silent, for the fact that she’d lingered in the doorway to his room escaped Faruq’s notice until she cleared her throat.

She didn’t say anything as she sat down beside him. It wasn’t the same. Faruq desperately didn’t want her to speak either.

Even so.

Even so, when Saba’s hand reached for his, Faruq let himself feel less alone. The whole world had been kept at a distance, but at least he had this. For now.

Three days (Saba still went to school, how she fared only Allah knew) and three evenings (she worked in his room now – their parents accepted the change in stoic silence) later, his resolve broke.

The daytime, a Sunday, looked like endless accounts. Saba returned from goodness only knows where. She paused at his desk…. expectant. He looked up. She glanced behind her.

Minutes later, her phone was pressed against his torso, a last ditch attempt at vanquishing the yells down the line. There was nothing any of them could do now.

When this whole world Has walked away

The seating capacity of the auditorium nauseated Faruq. The conversation made his near empty stomach churn. He didn’t dare say a word in his own defence as people invaded his space over and over, unapologetically. He may as well have been invisible to them all.

Just as well, he supposed, until the farce had to come to a stuttered halt.

It was always fated to last only until he saw an errant curl resting against a grey sari drape. Then, dark eyes trying to pin him and his family in place even as they closed the gap. And behind her –

Try as he might, Faruq couldn’t look away. He refused to blink.

He barely registered Abbu’s curt retorts, or being shuffled into the seats, settled between his sister and father. Veer’s earnest defence didn’t log itself to his memory at all.

It was only on seeing the ivory suit disappear out of the corner of his eye that Faruq reacted. Just as the lighting changed, he leaned closer to his sister. One murmur, one pat of his hand in confirmation, Faruq slipped away. She’d feign ignorance just fine. Abbu’s dissociating was helpful just this once. One last time, if nothing else.

Come and find me

The frantic racing of his heart was pacified only on finally spotting his love. Damn the acoustics of this stairwell for carrying his sobs up to him with no hesitation. His clambering down the stairs felt obtrusive, loud, but on reaching Dhruv, everything settled. Turning his face back to him and meeting his eyes, Faruq felt real again. The touch of his skin, the warmth of his being, everything.

He’d found him. He was here. He was – he is, well. They were shattered.

Dhruv needed no prompting to recreate that afternoon. There was nothing more to say. There was nothing that speaking could achieve. No insight that could help change the trajectory of their fate.

When Dhruv did choose to speak again, though, Faruq could only match him. And when he slid his photograph into the opaque pocket of the wallet, he chose to break their hearts again.

One last kiss, and Faruq found himself walking away. His quiet desire to go back and hold, be held by Dhruv faded eventually. The tears on their faces had dried by the time they saw each other again, at the exit gates of the school.

Only to be prevented from leaving at the catastrophic turn the night had taken.

A whirlwind of 3 hours later, they’d managed to set foot in the alley that led to the house. The whole time, Faruq’s hand hadn’t been let go of, Saba attached to him unrelentingly.

He’d seen Veer glue himself to Dhruv’s side just the same and his Dhruv had simply embraced him, taken it all in stride. Faruq decided to do the same.

Saba parted from them only to change her attire. She reached for him again and ammi – abbu remained silent at her request to leave them be. Leaving twin mugs of chai in front of them, their parents bid them goodbye. Whatever the new day was to bring, they had to be ready.

For now though, they all needed space.

Saba turning to him only when their empty mugs had lost their residual warmth was unsurprising. Faruq was stopped from sitting up straighter by his sister putting her arm around him, a quiet, hoarse murmur his only cue before his perspective shifted. The material of her scarf and a few errant strands of her hair felt foreign to his forehead, but he let it be, unwilling to break the silence she’d created for him.

You're gonna hear me say

Don't cry, put your head on my shoulder

[ccenvs3000w25]

Blog 7: Music and Nature

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve watched technology advance through social media, photography, and videography, become more accessible and sophisticated each year. But music has been around for decades. Our ancestors told stories through song and dance, and music has continued to evolve so that today, we can play songs with just a tap of our fingers on a phone.  Yet music is still very much a way of telling stories, whether through love songs or even diss tracks.

In nature, there is a natural music that has always been present, and I’ve noticed this since I was a kid. From birds chirping to trees howling in the wind, there’s a calming rhythm that comes from being outside in the natural world. That’s how I see music in nature. Here in Ontario, we have many animals that “sing,” like the chirp of a robin or the howls of coyotes. That’s why whenever I walk or hike outside, I prefer to listen to these sounds instead of plugging in and playing music on my phone. There’s something so calming about the sound of water running in a stream or my feet crunching over fresh snowfall. It’s a grounding and peaceful experience that helps me disconnect from the online world and reconnect with the earth. These sounds, much like modern-day music, tell a story. When I think about the hikes or adventures I’ve taken in nature, I often remember certain sounds, like birds chirping or the wind in the trees. Like when I hear birds chirping, it takes me back to spring mornings waking up for elementary school and hearing them in my backyard. This connection is like the way a catchy song can get stuck in your head or how hearing an old song can bring back memories from years ago.

I am interested to hear if other people also remember sounds in nature from their childhood?

When I think about nature in music, I consider how certain songs or genres make me feel, much like the emotions I experience in nature. As I mentioned earlier, being in nature makes me feel peaceful, grounded, and relaxed. Living in Ontario, it can be difficult to find the same outdoor spaced that I enjoyed in Banff. There aren’t as many hikes and waterfalls nearby, and certainly no mountains in Guelph. So, I’ve found a way to replicate the feelings that nature brings me through music. An artist who comes to mind is Noah Kahan, who often sings about nature and adventure. His lyrics resonate with me, and his music gives me the same sense of peace and freedom I felt when I was on top of a mountain, so relaxed and at peace, but at the same time so powerful and free. His songs evoke powerful emotions that, at one point, I thought could only be found in nature. That’s how I see nature in music; as a reflection of the feelings, emotions, and memories that both nature and music can bring to life.

One song that stands out to me is “Paul Revere” by Noah Kahan. It was released while I was living in Banff, and it speaks about moving away from home and adjusting to life in a new place, while also acknowledging that its ok to look back and long for home. I remember listening to this song and right away connecting to the sounds of the music, then once I got to know the lyrics I connected with it even more.

It reminds me of my time in Banff and how I often felt homesick and missed my family. During those moments of feeling out of place, it was nature and music that helped me through. Hiking and music were two constants that grounded me and made me feel like I was exactly where I needed to be. The calming sounds of nature always kept me grounded, and this song was the first time I truly felt those same emotions while doing something other than hiking. When I listen to “Paul Revere,” I can picture the mountains, trees, and animals of Banff, and it takes me right back to those feelings of when I lived there, surrounded by nature constantly.

I'm curious if anyone else has a similar connection to a song like this?

Here is a link to the song. I hope you can listen and find your own way to connect!

Hope you enjoy, Cayla

[helphelpquesohelado]

Regarding your post about the retcons to your au, what does that mean for some aspects of the story?

Joy's manic episode, which happens to be like a giant flash grenade.

The idea of Joy leaving headquarters out of guilt and shame for unintentionally hurting Riley (Which was an idea i made a few months back)

The sense of self (Specifically, the new one joy makes after the old one was thrown out by Anxiety)

her relationship with Fear.

her transformation (Since joy is not longer considered to be a disorder, how will it work now)

her takeover of Riley's mind (Especially Imagination land)

now that's just scratching the surface, but I feel like these questions are good enough for what I'm genuinely curious about.

Before I start I would like to say that My hyperfixations are the main reason i have gotten tumblr, therefore Its incredibly difficult to initiate more content for the silly au on top of school being in. That being said i will not create or work on the au content after the hyperfixation has passed. if your in the mood for me to come up with something new you can always give me a writing prompt(like maybe the intro, a oneshot or middle. It would get me out of a creative slump, practice writing, and feed the three people who enjoy this. ;)

Manic episodes will be exactly like how they are depicted in the fanfiction  Inside Out Neurodiversity witch i have mentioned many times by now.

I've been thinking about the scene at the final credits of the first film; where we get a view into the bus drivers mind.

The fact that the emotions themselves can somehow shift into different forms leaves so much room for creative uses or wonderful phycological symbolism and all that junk. Since the Headquarters and the rest of the brain being a personification, I would like to toy with how the emotions shift, warp, change along with the landscape itself. Yumi nikki and Omori type shit, that I like. Theirs so much to explore with the mind!

maybe after a while, joy produces a memory that's orange instead, they wouldn't notice and maybe along with joy the forms of the other emotions start to shift too. maybe in another timeline fear grows more eyes to keep a watch on all, anxiety's hair turns into worms that infect everything. sadness grows warts full of salty tears, for every tear riley refuses to spread. can you tell i love horror :). I would like to make parallels between anxiety and joy if i do write something.

I image they try to replicate the sense of self to an unhealthy extent, every orb from the old has to have its equivalent. They problem sent some mind workers to go find them. Although I'd imagine that the old sense of self would be long barried under the memory pile at the back of the mind. The goal of Anxiety and co would be the same as the second one maybe, they would try to find the old sense of self in a panic, and they travel though different locations along the way then in the second movie, like the scarped puppetry park and dream productions! like the emotions the sense of self warps. Its alive, all of the brain is after all. It pulses with life, cry's when it needs. neat stuff man.

Her relationship with the emotions is still something i need to explore. I want to do anger next, maybe he is pressured to do "right" and ends up being the straw that breaks the camels back for riley when she looses her patience with her friends, why don't they want to hang out with her??????

(I accidently put bullet point number 5 in the second area, whoops. this is bullet number 2)

Joy wouldn't run away per say but maybe in a final confrontation (I'm sorry i got nothing for now lol)

Joy would unnaturally become a figure akin to anxiety without realizing it. She projects to riley good memories yet she doesn't allow her to grieve, Instead its almost a primal rage of fear of what she once had, this creating a sort of compulsion to keep her friends. (sadness, realizing that she has been cast aside once again, she begins to grow.... bitter,)

I just what to say that you've been a big ol' help for motivation and stuff and I would like to ask, since we have a post of fear already, witch character would you like me to explore?

Anger

Disgust

Embarrassment

Ennui

Envy

Anxiety

Nostalgia

Sadness

Riley and some real world stuff.

this au is honestly a mess but brainstorming is pretty fun.

[fatuismooches]

HIHI!!! it’s 1am but i come to you with that fluff thought i promised ya :DD (..and an angst one, it’s okay!! dottore will wipe all of our tears </3 ). i’m sorry if i’m like!! brainrotting too much!! you’re so fun to hear the opinions of, and i love talking about this

dottore with fragile reader would be so soft, i like to imagine he really does put in the effort for those picnic dates that you always talk about. Does it mean carrying you there and making a spot where it’s much warmer rather than the cold unforgiving winter in snezhnaya? having a segment travel all the way to liyue for a snack? yes. it also means kissing your forehead as he extracts blood from you, clutching your hand when he knows you’re nervous, holding you no matter how busy he is. He can have you on his lap while he works, no matter how sick you are- it’s worth it to hear his true assistants thoughts. You’ve always been the most important. (dottore probably does not like the replacement assistants and purposefully makes their jobs harder…or the segments pester them because they love you just as much).

…on the other hand

on that traveler finding fragile reader note…omegatorre deleting all/most of the other segments probably meant it was much much easier for traveler to even get to that area in the first place. normally, the lab and area would be swarmed with dottores, but because of omegatorre- now zandik will have alot less. He can’t put as much energy into creating segments because he’s focused on the cure, but *now* traveler is with who he loves most, and he has to stop them. you’re right!! la signora, childe, etc had someone that drove them to become their worst to protect their memory, futures, etc- you are everything to dottore. you’re everything to zandik. ofcourse traveler has to win somehow, escape somehow, its their story after all- so now all zandik could do, is grab you, run, and fix this.

- 💌

(x) 💌 ANON OMFG I LOVE U… ANGST + FLUFF THE TWO THINGS THAT WILL KILL ME SOME DAY 😭💕💕 dottore + fragile reader lives in our head rent free huh

oH MY GOSH THOUGH THE PICNICS- You’re so right. Fragile! Reader tends to get super nostalgic about their Akademiya days/when they weren’t sick. So a lot of times they daydream about how they use to catnap and tease Zandik under the sun while he just muttered about how “this is a waste of time” (even though he secretly enjoyed it.) And now you just think about how these things are probably never gonna happen again for a long time :( but Dottore and the clones are like. We’re going to make it happen anyway. Since it’s quite difficult for you to leave the lab, makes me think about how once I said he built a specific room for you to emulate the outside world’s scenery. He literally got the same spot you two used to go to replicated for you 🥺 And hehe you’re so right about the clones. Mfs would do anything for you even if it means going halfway across Teyvat for Fried Radish Balls. (They make it back in record speed too😭 and present to you your snack as if it’s worth more than gold)

I just love the idea of Dottore being a genuine doctor with fragile! reader 😭 like it’s funny and cute to think about him doing legitimate doctor things and not the illegal ones. Taking blood - he’s a bit surprised when he finds out you’re kind of scared of that and needles and such. Doesn’t know what to do at first but he decides to just ramble on about his experiments and discoveries (Dottore knows you enjoy it) to distract you and then gives you a little kith and chuckles when you’re surprised it’s over that quickly. (Now im just thinking abt fragile reader running away since they might not like all the shots and medicine he has to give them) Also checking your heartbeat - every time he gets hella smug and cocky because your heart always races so fast when he’s so close to you “Oh? Is everything alright? Your heart is going rather fast… certainly not normal. I wonder, what could be the reason?”

Sitting on Dot’s lap while he does work >>> Even with all the clones he has he still gets stuck checking some boring papers every once in a while, and you just like. Sit on his lap and peer at them curiously. Also bothers him by pulling his little cheeks and kissing them <3 and nod enthusiastically as he discusses science stuff. (No fr all the dottores despise the regular Fatui assistants and some of them have gone missing 💀)

Okay angst… I’ll never get over the clones being deleted im in tears (I pretend I do not see it) Zandik never missed his clones more than in this instance. Sure, they fought a lot and caused problems sometimes. But he knew that nothing would ever happen to you because they would protect you at all times. And now it just so happens that damn Traveler had to come at the worst time possible, when security was low. Of course he knows the Traveler not trust him whatsoever and he doesn’t like them either, so the idea of you being with them alarms him more than he liked to admit.

No one is immune to desire. Not Archons or humans. And you are what he desires and loves wholly, so he won’t let anything hurt you. He may be at a disadvantage, but he is the Second Harbinger for a reason. 

[skaruresonic]

I saw.

My thoughts on mining Shadow's past for brownie points are well-documented, so you can probably guess how I'm feeling right about now.

Unfortunately, I fail to see the appeal because I feel like Sega's just dangling keys in our faces. Black Doom and the Biolizard may be returning, but are they saying anything new with the characters, or are they just expecting us to clap because "hey, I remember them"?

Between the constant "Shadow's backstory was full of angst and suffering and OMG A CHILD GOT SHOT" and my consequent fears that more of this nonsense will follow the release of the third movie, it's lowkey starting to make me wish SA2 didn't exist, if just because it seems its corpse is constantly being dug up and paraded as a shell of itself for marketing purposes. It's just a convenient source of Aesthetics and Vague Peak Fiction. That's all the game's ever been good for, apparently.

It's disappointing to see the trend of shackling Shadow to his past replicated in official games. And I have to be honest, Sega's willingness to bend over backwards for fanon is making it difficult for me to maintain respect for them. It's almost as though they're so afraid of pissing off the hypothetical fan in their heads that they're going to run with whatever fandom decides counts as Peak Fiction du Jour, and the people want reprises of SA2 until the original effectively loses meaning.

Let me tell you, it's an alienating feeling to be an Adventure fan while being fed up with the recent Adventure-era pandering. By all accounts I should be eating this shit up, but I resent the underlying assumption at work here that all of us Adventure-era fans, as a general demographic, are steered by our nostalgia and will just throw money at anything whose aesthetics so happen to match.

I like SA2. I like ShTH. No, I'm not automatically going to clap just because elements from those games are returning. You actually have to do something with them.

The thing is as well---I don't like the Adventure era for nostalgia or aesthetics. I genuinely like it on its own merits, warts and all. Barring issues of abandonware, honestly, at this point I'd rather it be left in the past as a pleasant memory than mined like this in order to appeal to fans who think Shadow's only worth as a character comes from his past suffering.

Generations doesn't need a remaster, and we don't need to capitalize on it as an excuse to ride the Shadow backstory merry-go-round for the 1,000th time.

[astrxlfinale]

There's always a bit of awe. no matter where they end up, where March just needs to take in the scenery. She can be found up high, camera in hand, taking in the sights of Penacony. Whether it be how tiny everything seems so small in comparison. Bright gaze slides to her company, a smile on glossed lips before she reaches over, entangling her fingers with the Trailblazer's, tugging him closer. ❝ ━ It's so pretty. I feel like this is the perfect opportunity for pictures! ❞ Its something that maybe even in the heat of a conflict, March doesn't find herself giving up. How else would she immortalize the moment ?

Leaning in, lips meet with Caelus's cheek, a soft giggle escaping her. ❝ ━ A relative calm day for us, wasn't it? No chaos means we have time for more snacks. ❞ And even more time for each other. Tucking her camera away, free arm slides around his waist, cheek resting against his chest with a hum, ❝ ━ You've been quieter than usual, something on your mind? I'll listen if ya need me too. ❞

Whereas she found herself caught between the dreamy skies and neon lit wonders, Caelus's own expression found itself in a more focused tempest. Even before such a storm of the soul, March would never find herself buffered by the more difficult elements that could debilitate and disarray. Dreams found themselves blooming from the sourcewaters known as Reason. Reason itself would be a web of conscious thriving, the sort that can make countless tethers in the rational and irrational.

Places like this could draw themselves a touch too close to that wild, near impenetrable wall of statics better known as his memories. In fact, it'd be through meeting certain people that another hidden door to that past found itself growing clear in the form of a person.

How exactly? That's where too much inherent frustration brewed within his gut. "Hmph. If there's one thing any merry band of bastards won't pull punches on, is making what shines beyond reach that much prettier." There's a prideful note on that very thought despite the wording. Caelus's gruff composure just found itself content in being earnest around march, a different thread of an all too familiar honesty.

Then before he knew it, a sight Penacony could never truly replicate; the vision of a starlit, six-phased soul known as March was soon by his side with that bubbly smile in tow. Inner angst aside, a welcomed and defeated huff escaped him the instant her energized lips graced his cheek. It was a revitalizing shot for the soul as much as the body. --Dreamy body? Fuck it. The Trailblazer knows damn well his actual body felt it just as much.

After all they did rest in the same Memoria pool during this transfer.

Allowing his affections to bloom through a returned squeeze of their interlocked fingers, that bare thumb from his fingerless gloved paved comforting trails along the back of the beauty's hand. In kind, those gentle questions, the culmination of more private days of two memory losing souls holding their own, building each other as an important anchor shone through.

Caelus's eyes looked troubled despite the tender way he eased in, as if to assuage any silent thoughts with an abrupt but loving kiss. Loving the sensation of her lips, of their shared strength, only after a good moment does he ease back.

"--This place is scratchin' something in my head March." He begins with as his confession.

"I've met them again here. Old friends." Something irate refused to call them intergalactic criminals or anything of the sort. The circumstances driving this somehow made a frame that he and his old team enacted that steered a bit too close to home. Experiences lived with an irony heavy coating. Without really realizing it, that grasp upon March's hand served more as a lifeline.

It's clear there was a desperation that never simmered in that search. Right now? There was a more painful hope working its bloom to a fuller stalk.

Once she finds the room to wholly rest upon him, another coat clad arm joined that protective veil of an embrace upon her. Smoothing that baby blue expanse along her back.

"She looked at me as if there was a world of things to say, lost times, lost mishaps. Those eyes were just too alive for a side of me that's--"

What Caelus, dead and buried?

"Tryin' to iron itself out. And worse yet, that stupid ass Script is standing as a prime issue before any chances to dig deeper."

@intcritus

[nostalgiachan]

Blooddrunk

Thirtieth Prompt: A drunken night out

C/W: basically NSFW (vampire feeding GONE SEXUAL whoa wow), blood

Summary: Vier wants to take Astarion out for drinks, but remembers there's only one real way for him to get drunk. Good thing she's a cleric. (3,018 words)

---

It had only been two months since Vier had brought Astarion to her home in Dawnshire, but she could tell the provincial life was making him a bit antsy. While his nights in Baldur’s Gate had been an endless nightmare of blood and suffering, the fact remained that the hustle and bustle of the city was what he was used to. Eventually, she hoped he’d come to enjoy the comparative peace and quiet of small town life, but it would take time before his wild heart settled into it. What he needed in the meantime was a little excitement.

Perhaps, Vier thought, a night out on the town would do him some good. While much of the village was still rebuilding in the wake of the nautiloid attack, through sheer providence, the Golden Dew Inn had survived - not a particularly bawdy tavern, especially by Baldur’s Gate’s standards, but still a lovely place to spend an evening. They could head out, mill about town a while, get some drinks and–

Wait. Shit.

Did Astarion much care for drinking if it couldn’t get him drunk? And now that her mind was on the subject, how was he able to drink wine, anyway? She was certainly no expert on vampire biology, but to her knowledge, all food turned to ash and all drink to bile in a vampire’s mouth, thus the whole need to consume blood. Had that been why he’d always complained about perfectly good wines tasting like vinegar, or had he just been hard to please? And despite his attempts at drinking, the only time she remembered seeing him actually drunk was that night he’d exsanguinated a bear.

Planning a date would’ve been hard enough for Vier had Astarion been mortal; how did one go planning a date with a vampire spawn?

The memory of the night with the bear stuck around a bit longer than expected, and slowly, a question rose to the forefront of her thoughts: would she be able to replicate that effect with her own blood? How much blood did a bear have, exactly? Obviously, more than your average mortal, given the massive size difference. Even if she allowed Astarion to drain every last drop from her - a thoroughly idiotic notion, given she was not about to waste a truly hard-earned resurrection scroll on a flight of fancy, and she doubted that Withers (wherever he was) would summon her back if she ended up dead of her own folly - he still likely wouldn’t receive the same amount of blood.

But there was always her steadfast ally, the lesser restoration spell, wasn’t there? Casting it on herself had become almost as much a daily ritual for Vier as giving thanks to Lathander at each sunrise. Frankly, she was amazed Astarion hadn’t gotten tired of her taste yet, given how he indulged himself in her each and every night. She worked out a few more numbers in her head. By her estimation, she could lose about a liter and a half before she would need to cast the spell. Once she crossed that line, it would be much more difficult to focus on casting, and once she hit two liters, she was almost certainly a goner. She could cast the spell up to thrice, with short breaks between to allow time for the blood to regenerate, meaning she could give somewhere between four-and-a-half and six liters, all in all. Would that be enough?

As her mind lost itself in puzzling out the details, her body was left quite vulnerable as she sat on the couch in her office. Sensing this moment of weakness, a certain pale form was drawn to her side, quietly wrapping its cold embrace about her shoulders and startling her nearly out of her skin.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion cooed into her ear as he nestled his head against her left shoulder. “Someone looks deep in thought. Nothing’s troubling you, I hope?”

“No, no,” Vier quickly breathed as her pulse quickly evened out. “Just thinking, is all. Though now that you’re here, I wanted to float an idea your way.”

Astarion picked up his head to get a better look at Vier as she regaled him with the details. “Ooh, by all means, float on.”

As Vier walked him through the entire thought process, from the desire for a date night to the blood plan, a smile slowly crept across his face. “You know, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you being so sweet on me,” he finally said as she wrapped up her explanation, “but I do have one teensy concern. See, as much as I absolutely want this,” - his words positively dripped with desire - “are you sure you’re not going to hurt yourself? A bloodthirsty scoundrel I may be, but I’m not as alright with the idea of accidentally killing you as I used to be.”

Vier couldn’t entirely tell if he was joking with her. “I would hope you wouldn’t be alright with it at all, but we’ll get there one day, I suppose,” she grumbled with a grimace. “And about the only thing I’m sure of is that I want to try this for you. Worse comes to worse, I keep the resurrection scroll in a hidden drawer in my desk. I know you’ve already figured out how to pop that one open.”

With a tut and a pout, Astarion asked, “Have I really gotten that sloppy?”

“No, but I know you, dear,” Vier explained, “and I know you’ve probably rummaged through every container in my dormitory and at least half of those in the rest of the temple by now.”

“Aw, you really do know me,” Astarion said with a wistful sigh and a mischievous glint in his eye. “Promise I haven’t stolen anything, though; you took a great risk convincing your colleagues to let me stay here, and I swear I won’t do anything to get myself thrown out. On purpose, anyway.”

An opportunity presented itself, and Vier simply couldn’t pass it up. “You’re being a good boy?” she asked as her head leaned in just a touch, a sly smile crossing her face. Astarion responded in kind, leaning in even closer.

“Oh, I’m being a very good boy,” he hummed, his voice dropping dangerously low and quiet with each word.

“Which is why you’ve earned this little treat,” Vier replied. But just as Astarion could no longer contained himself and pressed in towards her neck, she put a finger to his lips to stop him. “Ah, wait, before you start.” 

If Vier didn’t know any better, she’d have thought the man had started panting with anticipation. His red-eyed gaze locked on her intensely as she pushed him back just a hair. “Do you think you can keep your feeding clean, or should I put down some rags? I’d rather my office not look like the infirmary when all’s said and done.”

“I’ll keep the feeding clean, I’m sure,” he breathed with impatience, “but I make no guarantees about the rest. Now, may I?”

Something about the way he asked flipped a switch in Vier’s mind. A warm blush spread across her cheeks, and her gut fluttered like it was their first night all over again. It was going to be a lot harder to focus if her mind was half turned to love-drunk mush. This elf truly did have an incredible power over her, didn’t he? The next word came out much weaker, much softer, much more submissive than she’d initially intended.

“Please.”

With a flash of a fanged smile, Astarion reached across Vier’s lap and guided her to straddle his waist. The moment she was mounted and ready, he threaded one of his pale hands into her sussur bark hair and pulled her throat down to his eager mouth. His plush lips pressed against the skin in a teasing kiss, as if he wanted to make her wait for what lay just behind them - as though he hadn’t already shown her just how much he wanted to dive right in. She wanted to roll her eyes and say, “Sweetheart, just get in there already,” but the familiar sensation of his teeth finally piercing into her neck stopped the words.

Vier braced herself against the top of the couch as Astarion drained the sweet crimson from her, the sound of his lewd swallowing filling her ears. She wanted to cling tightly to him, to grip him by his luxurious hair and pull him in more and more, but she needed to stay focused. She couldn’t let herself get lost in the feeling of her lifeblood blissfully ebbing away and the delicious pain of his fangs piercing deep.

But gods, was it hard. Vier’s pulse had already been set to racing purely by being wrapped in Astarion’s deathly cold embrace, making it difficult to gauge when it began racing due in greater part to the blood loss. The heat of her body seemed to rise and fall in equal measure as he drank deeply from her. Had he started drinking faster, or was that the illusion of her brain beginning to cloud over?

No, don’t lose focus now.

Vier recentered herself, slipping as she was into the haze. She lifted a hand from the back of the couch, and intoned the words, “Vincere est vivere”. This was Astarion’s cue to take a break for a moment, and to her slight surprise, he freed her from his hungry jaws, slumping back onto the cushions with a half-lidded look in his eye. Vier’s body followed, her head resting against his shoulder a moment as the blood quickly regenerated within her veins. Her breathing steadied, her mind cleared, and her body temperature evened out - though as her faculties returned, each would be sent into total overdrive.

Once her head stopped swimming, she simply couldn’t help herself from turning his face towards her and kissing him deeply, harshly, the acrid taste of iron filling her mouth as their tongues collided. It was almost embarrassing the way she loved how he killed her, little by little. She could feel his skin growing the slightest bit warmer to the touch, and a distinct movement beneath her let her know he was enjoying himself as much as she was. At that rate, they weren’t going to make it to the second round. But for the experiment’s sake, they needed to continue.

Vier pulled away, her breathing ragged, and moaned out, “Alright, keep going.” Astarion wasted no time obliging her, swiftly pushing back her hair and tucking in once more. Loudly, Vier whined as fangs once again met flesh and her blood became his. Though she should have kept herself braced, did everything she could to maintain awareness, she was getting far too into it now. Once more, her heart set to beating wildly in her chest, once more her mind was awash in a haze of confusion and arousal. She could feel his nails digging into the back of her neck and the base of her spine. She couldn’t tell which of the two of them started grinding against the other first, but both of them were greedily pulling at each other, wanting to sink deeper inside one another.

Astarion was moaning now, growling now, as he feasted upon Vier, and though he’d promised to keep things clean, he was beginning to grow quite messy. At first, only a trickle of blood escaped the confines of his lips. But then, the trickle grew into a stream which traveled down Vier’s chest, staining her white blouse a deep maroon. She could feel him start to pull away, intent on following the stream and catching what he’d lost on his tongue, but she kept her hand locked on the back of his head to hold him where he was - if he pulled out now, her blood could very well end up staining more than just her shirt.

Once more, the edges of Vier’s vision began to darken, and as much as every fiber of her form seemed to cry out for that sweet, final release, she needed to restore herself. Again, she raised her hand, and again, she spoke the words. But this time, her mind and body struggled to summon up the healing energies within. While they did find their strength at last, would she be able to do it once more, or would she be too far gone to pull herself back?

More importantly, would Astarion have the willpower to stop himself? Because with the second cast, he didn’t release Vier immediately. No, he seemed to clamp down tighter this time, desperate to take just a bit more before the positive energies coursed through her circulation and sent him reeling away with a sputter - for the days of being healed by healing magic were once again behind him. As he leaned back on the couch once more, a groan pouring forth from his blood-soaked mouth, Vier noticed something peculiar - the sclerae of his eyes had turned pitch black, a curious reaction.

“It’s funny,” Vier rasped, her breathing slowly growing less haggard as the restorative magic took hold again, “your eyes look just like mine now.”

“Do they, now?” Astarion asked, his words coming out in a relaxed drawl. “Then I must have some lovely eyes, indeed.”

With a tired laugh, Vier’s head slumped onto Astarion’s shoulder once more. His skin had begun to gain a blush of life, nearly as warm as her own. If she listened closely, she swore she could almost hear a faint thud somewhere within his chest. Her lips returned to his, the sanguine taste even more overwhelming now as her tongue delved deep within. 

“Are you ready for the last of it, my sweet,” Astarion moaned after their lips finally parted, “or are you going to make me beg?”

“Oh, I’m very tempted to, dear,” Vier chuckled dangerously, “but you did say you’ve been a very good boy, so I won’t keep your treat from you. I’m–”

The word “ready” had barely left her tongue before Astarion pounced upon her for the last time. Harder now, he bit into her, tighter now, his arms constricted her, as though he feared she could escape his clutches at any moment. Cries of pleasure echoed across the walls of the office, cries which Vier was far too gone to attempt to stifle now. She tried to snake one of her hands down into the infinitesimally small space between their legs to massage the mound which pressed against her, but her arms quickly grew weak with the speed of his feeding. Her mind struggled to remember her purpose, torn as her body was between sweet ecstasy and rapidly approaching death. Colder and colder, she grew, as more of her lifeblood fell from his lips and drenched them both. For a moment, she nearly forgot the words of the spell entire, and she was tempted to simply allow herself to go - she’d told Astarion where the scroll was, after all, and perhaps a little death wouldn’t be so bad?

No! She’d come too far to fail at the last hurdle now. One more cast was all she needed. Astarion would have an entire person’s worth of blood within him, he’d be happy, and they could go out and…do the thing…whatever she’d said she was going to do with him. What had it been? What was she even doing there? Why was she feeling so cold…

But just as Vier’s mind began to slip past the threshold, Astarion suddenly disengaged with a deep and thoroughly satisfied moan and a great shudder of ecstasy, and the feeling of her blood seeping out into the open air jolted her back into awareness. Though her arms felt heavier than stones, she raised a hand and strained to get the words out as the world turned to mist around her. “Vincere est…shit…Vincere est vivere!”

As he came to himself, Astarion pulled Vier back into a much gentler embrace, his hand delicately petting her head as it slumped against his shoulder yet again. “Oh gods, did we go too far?” he asked, his voice filled with a surprisingly genuine concern. “You’re alright. Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be fine, once all my blood’s back,” she sighed against his now quite warm skin. “Just, you know…give me a minute.”

Vier couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Astarion sigh with relief. “Good, because I would feel just terrible if I was the only one feeling as good as I do right now.”

With a hint of a struggle, Vier pushed herself back up to look at him. Though he was still pale, his skin now held a healthy pink glow to it. His eyes had returned to their normal state, and he looked deeply, truly satiated in a way she’d never seen before.

“So, er…was it good for you?” she wearily joked, wiping the sweat from her still slightly clammy skin.

“Darling, aside from the bits where I was worried for your life, it was absolutely incredible,” Astarion replied, practically vibrating with excitement. “Look at me, I’m harder than adamantine and feel like I could fuck an orthon to death. You have utterly spoiled me tonight, my love.” “Oh, good, good. I think we’ll need to practice this whole process, because it was a bit touch-and-go for a while, but I’m glad the first attempt was a success. Say, erm…we can’t go out looking like this.”

For seemingly the first time, Astarion noted the fact they looked like they’d just gotten back from a visit with Bhaal - their clothes were absolutely soaked through, the couch was half-smeared, and a few splatters had even made it to the wall behind them.

“Oh…no, we certainly cannot,” he noted.

“So, I’ve got a bottle of Stagswift tucked away in my desk,” Vier continued. “What say we throw our clothes in the laundry, I polish off that bottle, and then you clean off all the blood you spilled on me, if you catch my meaning?”

“Darling, there is nothing I’d like more.”

[reveregret]

Hello my favorite person to bug! I figured since you've been dealing with these feelings and tendencies for a long time, you'd be a good person for insight on how to cope with them when you feel overwhelmed with them? I assume part of it has been writing them down, like on this blog? Thanks for your time like always :]

writing everything down has been a big part of how i cope, you're certainly right about that. it's a little ironic considering how i never really understood how journalling could be helpful, but i suppose it was a matter of how it was presented. i never really cared for prompts or rules around it, since that made it feel more like a task than an outlet. i did like making poetry, however. that's actually how i started out. i preferred the almost theatrical nature of it. eventually i just started writing things down as they were, making notes of what was happening or the thoughts i was having.

admittedly, that was mostly to keep track of details and events. i have a strong tendency to try to preserve things, which moved onto memories and that presented through transcribing. this was helpful in some ways and harmful in others. it got quite excessive after a while, to the point that i would only pause if i absolutely had to. it did help with processing, and while trying to find words for certain things it gave me a chance to reflect on my own feelings towards it all. i think writing can be really good if done in moderation.

this blog is kind of a blend between poetry and standard writing for me. i'll put down thoughts i'm dealing with and focus on the way it feels. from there i tend to characterise it. find a flow or order, maybe imply a story. if it's not directly reflective of something in reality, it's reflective of a more internal sense of it. i wouldn't actually kill anyone, for example, but i may make a post about doing so to deal with those sorts of thoughts.

in a way, that's helped me practise perspective. this is a little more difficult to explain, but it's part of how i keep my feelings in check. writing is just processing, but to stop and consider the sides of things can help a ton. finding balance is key. it's easy for me to get stuck between idolising or devaluing others, especially the more conscious i am of them. so i remind myself that the person in question has flaws alongside their positive qualities. or vice versa, depending on what side i'm leaning too far into. they're human, after all; neither perfect or substandard.

however, actually finding balance with that can be really tricky. it can be easy to go too far one way or another. that can work to an advantage at times, though. focusing on things i dislike about someone can help prevent and/or end an obsession, or even regulate one. it all depends. point is, to recognise the imperfections of an individual can keep me from glorifying them too much.

one of the main ways i've been able to deal with everything is finding a more symbolic way to encapsulate it. i like to make characters representative of people, for example. one distinction worth noting is i try to make it very non-literal, so i'll take aspects of how someone is or what they like and make something from that. i try to avoid making it an exact replicate of them to create somewhat of a division. it's still them, but metaphorically.

the way this helps is giving me somewhere to redirect those feelings. creative outlets are great in this sense! i draw a lot, and i'll often focus on the character i've made. it works for what words wouldn't and when i need something other than writing. it can even assist with subtlety, since there's less risk getting caught if everything is represented through that character. its appearance and name are different enough to be not be easily recognised.

another thing i've done is make dolls using these characters. i have my own pattern that i designed so that i can bring them to life. it's like being able to have the person to myself without genuinely trapping them. since i've created an association between the design and the individual, it can be comforting to simply have the doll around. i can even hold it to feign some control over the more protective or possessive feelings.

additionally, i create symbols (or sigils, if you will) typically made from the person's name. taking core elements from the shape of the letters and merging them together into its own unique shape. i'll write it down whenever i'm feeling intensely, or whenever i feel the need to. it can help me feel more connected with someone without actually forcing it. major bonus, it keeps me from writing a person's name too excessively or blatantly. there was a point a friend noticed one of my symbols but didn't think much of it. if it had been the name it represented, that would've turned out much differently.

these are the main ways i deal with everything before it gets to be unhealthy. i'm wary of sharing too much about how i deal with stalking since things that are reduced for me can easily worsen it for someone else. i'd rather support improvement, so hopefully everything i wrote here has value in that way.