#and are surprised to have made it this far anyways

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

woman crush wednesday (paige x reader)

summary: paige is asked who her celebrity crush is on instagram live and you’re pleasantly surprised when she responds with your name

content warnings: none!

inspired by this request from @rizzlerbuckets 🌟

“You have to see this, Y/N.” Your best friend exclaimed as she joined you in your kitchen where you were making dinner for the both of you.

You glance up from the stove to see her phone in her hand outstretched in your direction. There’s a video playing and from what you can see, it’s a screen recording of an Instagram live. The are two girls in the frame and they look like they’re in a dorm room.

“What is this? Who are they?” You ask confused, turning your attention back to the steak you were frying in a pan.

“They’re basketball players, just watch.” She insists, pushing her phone closer to your face.

You turn your gaze to the video and do as your best friend says. You watch the girls on screen as they read through the comments they were getting. They would laugh every now and then and you found yourself entranced by the blonde and the way her eyes scrunched at the sides when she smiled.

Your best friend turns up the volume of her phone and watches you closely with raised brows.

“OK OK! This is a good question whos your celebrity crush?” The girl with the braids directs to her friend next to her.

The blonde girl ponders for all of three seconds, “This is easy.” She grins and you’re expecting the usual response of one of the many famous men that most girls pine over. Channing Tatum, Michael B Jordan, Harry Styles, Justin Bieber, Vinnie Hacker, Jude Bellingham and you’re not sure why your best friend wanted you to watch this so bad. Until you hear her answer and it’s none of the names you imagined, it’s not even a man. It’s you.

“She’s bad bad.” The blonde continues, “And she sings. What more could you ask for?”

“Damn OK, someones down bad.” Her friend teases, “Y/N, if you’re watching this, let my girl Paige here take you on a date.” You laugh because you imagined the girls never would have thought you’d actually watch this video but, little do they know, your best is chronically online and sees everything that’s posted about you. Of course, she picks and chooses what she shares with you but you’re secretly glad this video made it through her vetting process.

“How old is this girl?” You ask cautiously before making any further comments.

“I’ll Google!” Your best friend chimes, tapping away at her phone. “Twenty two.” She clarifies, the same age as you.

“And she’s still in college?” You ask.

“It says here she was injured for the majority of two seasons so she was eligible to redshirt. She goes to University of Connecticut.” Your best friend explains, probably reading through Wikipedia.

You and your best friend discuss Paige over dinner, scrolling through her various social media accounts. Now you knew her age, you had no problem voicing how you felt about her. “She’s hot.” You say as her most recent TikTok plays on a loop.

Not only was she blonde, which was historically your type, but she had the most beautiful blue eyes that could draw you in, even through a screen. She played basketball, so of course she was tall but the way she carried herself so confidently and purposeful had you in a chokehold. Her muscular body, that she had no problem showing off, had your heart rate spiking each time she flexed her biceps in videos that now flooded your For You Page.

“Well, you know where Connecticut isn’t far from? New York.” Your best friend says, “And where are we? NEW YORK!” She triumphs as if you hadn’t already been able to come to that conclusion yourself.

“I’m messaging her.” You announce, opening Instagram and searching for Paiges name.

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know, something flirty.” You reply, fingers hovering over your keyboard as you think.

“Picture of your mommy milkers?” Your best friend says and you laugh at her suggestion, “No! Not yet, anyway.”

You type out a message before deleting it and you finally land on,

heard you wanted to take me on a date?

Paige is quick to reply, you’ve barely put your phone down before it pings.

hahah you saw the live?

im embarrassed

dont be, im flattered

and wondering where you’re taking me

You cringe at your boldness but the send the message anyway. Paige was hot and she clearly thought you were too so what was the harm in having some fun?

are you busy right now?

wow, you don’t waste any time

not for the date darling, call me

Paige sends you her number and you press call, anxiously waiting for her to answer. When she does, her voice is smoky and sweet and your brows raise at her tone and you excuse yourself to your bedroom, leaving your best friend grinning from ear to ear like a kid in a candy store.

You and Paige chatted for longer than you realise and you find yourself giggling like a teenager at her words. It’s almost midnight when Paiges words become softer and slower, “It’s late. I should let you go.” You say not wanting to keep her up.

“Or you could stay on the phone and sing me to sleep.” She quips, earning another giggle from you.

“Let’s save that for another time. When I’m actually there and you can feel my breath on your neck.” You drawl.

You hear a sharp in take of breath, “Don’t play.” Paige says lowly.

“Goodnight Paige.” You giggle, satisfied with her flustered response.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: just a short one but this was actually really fun to write! hope u enjoy 💋 vinnie hacker mention because p is never escaping that 😭

[lizpottersworld]

series masterlist — click here!

☽｡⋆ 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄

01. for the hope of it all

summary: It’s officially the start of summer break, Remus arrives for his first day at his families farm and discovers a surprise guest in the flower fields.

Remus loved Hogwarts and being around his friends and especially his boyfriend but nothing compared to the ecstatic feeling of arriving at his families farm. It marked the beginning of an amazing summer. It was always the best way to start the next six weeks, the first four with his family and the next few at the Potter Manor.

As soon as the gates are held open for the truck to drive through, as the cows swarm around the flower fields. Remus closes his eyes and relishes in the warmth and belonging, everything was simple here. Blocked away from anything and everything that could possibly trouble you, it didn’t exist when on the farm.

“Remus, Honey, can you help me unload the bags please?” Remus’ mum, Hope, asked him as they pulled up outside the cottage decking. He nodded and stepped out to the refreshing sticky summer air to retrieve the bags from the boot. Lyall, Remus’ dad, patted him on the shoulder in thanks as he grabbed the bags next to him.

“Bet you’d rather spend your summer with Sirius, eh?” Lyall teased, noticing the way he avoided eye contact and the faint fluster on his cheeks. He chuckled as his son discreetly disappeared through the door without a word.

Being in a relationship was new for Remus but being in a relationship with another boy was something for him to get used to. Not that it bothered him, he was more nervous about his friend’s and families feelings towards it. As if they had a say in it, anyway. The light teasing his parents would throw his way never failed to make him blush and forget his train of thought.

Hope held the door open for him as he set the bags on the kitchen side, his dad not far behind, “I can see Sirius in a few weeks, plus theres such a thing called writing, Dad.” Remus rolls his eyes at him.

Lyall chuckles, “Perhaps next time, you can invite him to the farm to stay with us.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Remus shakes his head with a smile.

“Not sure mum would allow that,” He added, “Plus, not sure Sirius could hide the whole magic wizard thing from everyone here.” Lyall nodded and mumbled about unpacking his stuff in the master bedroom.

Remus nodded and helped his mum to unpack the food bags for the next few weeks and the couple of bouquets of flowers she had bought ‘to liven up the place’ to put them in their respective vases.

Hope hummed along to a muggle song tune that played through the record player, that was lined up with various vinyls, “Remus, why don’t you go on a walk, you’ve helped out loads.” She softly smiled up at her son.

Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to the crown of his mums head before grabbing his jacket to go on his annual walk. It was nothing special, he just liked to walk through the fields with the animals and to say hello to the surrounding neighbours kids who were playing and giggling in the grass.

Really nothing could compete with the serenity and love that cascaded through the many fields of the farm. Something about the country side seemed so perfect to Remus. Better than any city, or any town. To have a peaceful yet beautiful life out here was all he could possibly want.

Even though it was only a few weeks till they met up again, Sirius and Remus had made a promising deal to write a letter every few days to provide an update on each other’s summers. Sirius persisted on not leaving any detail out, so he could imagine exactly where he was whilst he was at the Potters.

It was thankfully Sirius’ third summer at the Potters house, away from his horrible superiority family and house. Him being away from them, served as a tedious comfort and reminder of Sirius’ safety even if he was hours away. James’ parents had almost become like his own, and his house had become Sirius’. Even if they acted like brothers anyway, it was even more of a reassuring factor.

The last few weeks of every summer, James’ parents invites some of James’ friends to their house to stay for the remaining holidays. Those two weeks always gave the best memories, something to always remember happened during that time.

As much as he wished he was laughing with his friends right now, strolling through the fields with flowers and many cows around was something that Remus felt he couldn’t trade for the world.

The golden sun rays reflecting onto the people around and onto the duck pond, it was the perfect picture of heaven. Children around were gleaming with happiness and the parents watched them with just about the same degree of excitement.

There wasn’t many people in the actual fields, more in their parts of their farm in the back garden, all connected by a lake. Apart from one.

A stunning girl twirled and smiled through the flower field, the sun kissing her perfectly as she shone. A lacy white dress adorned her to her thighs to which she also wore a tattered pair of worn, mahogany cowboy boots that shielded her legs from the tickling grass.

Not many older kids visited the farm, if they did they were either here to visit grandparents or just passing through. But taken by the worn boots and the sense of familiarity, Remus felt that this girl wasn’t one of those people. It was like he knew her, but he shook his head at that simply not being possible.

The girl turned around also noticing the tall bronzed brunette walking towards her, instinctively she smiles at the figure. But then a flicker of reminiscence finds her eyes and his eyebrows furrow in question.

“Remus? Remus Lupin, is that you?” The girl shouted, hands on the sides of her mouth to echo her words. Remus still confused waited as the girl lightly ran over to him.

His mouth gaped open, distance not being a problem he could now inspect the girls face, he knew her. Her face was now matured but also carried a vulnerability which he knew all too well.

“Y/n?” He whispered in disbelief, she nods in excitement. “I thought you left.” He shook his head.

“Well, you can never really get rid of me.” She laughed, Remus immediately pulled her into his warm embrace, savouring the feeling. “Six years too long, huh?” She murmured from her face in his neck.

“Where did you even go?” He pulled away to look at her face, to then pull her back into his arms.

She hesitated, “Some like um boarding school, in France,” she smiled, “But i’m moving to another school in Scotland because my mother insists.”

Remus grinned, “does that mean you’ll be coming back here more often?” She nodded and laughed. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he admired her new hairstyle and looked down to accommodate her height, “you look so different, yet so similar.”

She shook her head in agreement, “I could say the same about you, last i remember i was taller than you and you had those circle glasses.” She laughed, recalling his innocence and adorableness. Now he was a whole giant, and had littered of scars all over his face. He was still gorgeous, so beautiful as usual. Even more if possible.

Remus looked to the familiar cottage that she and her family usually stayed in, noticing her not-so-little-anymore siblings playing in the front garden. Her mother, Isabelle, waved to Remus whilst she supported a baby on her hip.

“Willow and James are seven now, and my mum had another baby, Everly, she’s only 2.” Y/n explained, smiling as Remus waved back to her mother. He looked back to her, a supporting smile on his face.

Y/n had always had a loving and supportive family, even when Remus was younger. The age of 11, and he would play with her siblings whilst they were two. He always loved it. Her mother was like his second mother, so intent on being welcoming to Remus and encouraging his and y/n’s friendship.

They had met at the local market around the farm, their mums becoming friends whilst the two only five, shyly waved at each other.

Hope encouraged him to introduce himself and with an adorable smile he mumbled, “My names Remus!” and y/n was the more shy one out of the two of them. She looked up pouting at Isabelle who looked between the two and y/n hesitantly introduced herself, “i’m y/n.”

Then it turned into play dates in the cottage gardens, till they would independently go play games in the fields, like tag or even hide and seek.

“No, Remmy, you’re cheating!” Little y/n giggled as nine year old Remus peeked watching her hide. Remus continuously refused he wasnt each round, until y/n realised every round he knew exactly where she was.

“Thats lovely,” he said, pulling her into yet another side hug, “I still can’t believe your back. You’ll be tired of me by the end of the summer.”

“We’ll always have more summers to look forward to.” She agreed, toying with the freshly picked flowers in her hands that she was planning on weaving into a flower crown.

Remus noticed the sun starting to set and reluctantly turned to say goodbye, “I have to get back, help my mum with dinner,” He softly spoke, y/n dusted her dress and smiled at Remus, “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n/n.” He playfully ruffled her hair and she yelped in surprise.

Fixing her hair huffing as Remus laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Remmy.” She teased, using their childhood nicknames they had for each other. Remus shook his head, waving to y/n’s mum before walking back towards the cottage.

He smiled to himself, already noting to buy some flowers for her mum. This was going to be the best summer, he decided, strolling back to the cottage entrance where his mother welcomed him.

“Mum, you wouldn’t guess who i saw.” He laughed in disbelief, Hope eagerly sat at the dinning table as Remus relayed the last half an hour to his mum.

[oatmealdaydreams]

Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany.  Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay. 

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least. 

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse. 

His drive up through Mount Tammany. 

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses. 

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother. 

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things. 

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars. 

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.” 

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know. 

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something. 

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice. 

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?” 

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.” 

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful. 

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan. 

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard. 

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound? 

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker. 

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.” 

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it. 

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway. 

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything. 

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this. 

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.” 

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands. 

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks. 

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now. 

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.” 

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking. 

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.” 

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times. 

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed. 

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be. 

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany. 

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals. 

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.” 

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game? 

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him. 

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point. 

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window. 

Neither of them breathe for a moment. 

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from? 

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window. 

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence. 

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down. 

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine. 

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes. 

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension. 

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.” 

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and  not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.” 

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same. 

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues. 

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy. 

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before. 

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods. 

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets. 

Stan slowly reaches out first. 

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway. 

They hold hands. 

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing. 

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back. 

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds. 

Little birds keep close together for winter. 

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again. 

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[wolvebonez]

hypothetical fawn golden shaded grizzle!

Soooo as I have mentioned briefly I am in a wcrp, in which said wcrp uses genetic terms & has a genetic roller for rp. someone came in and asked what THIS beast might look like

And so I figure I'll share what I came up with since it took me So Fucking Long and I do think enough ppl who follow me might be interested!!

This is the end result!! I will be copy/pasting my explanation & inserting more images below

Im going to be using more basic explanations of a gene and only in relation to how they apply to this cat so im not writing 5 million word

To start, we have a regular fawn ticked tabby!

Wideband then makes the hairs of the cat have more pheomelanin (golden/background color) and less melanin (fawn color), as well as usually restricting the melanin to the tip of the hair.

Theeennnn we introduce silver (as seen below), which reduces the amount of pigment found in the pheomelanin; when combined with wideband making a cat look particularly pale (since any melanin in the wideband-effected hairs can also be broken up/less "solid," it can result in melanin looking more diluted/warm, it can also visually lighten the melanin areas on a cat.) I probably should've made the pale parts more desaturated at this point but ignoring that….

This is where we get Really Hypothetical!

As far as I'm aware we don't really know what chausie grizzle is or does. I've seen sources like messybeast (lol) claim that it is just silver-tipping found in black chausies/melanistic jungle cats but I dissagree. I personally believe a theory [User] initially mentioned to me is more probable; the idea that it is moreso the expansion of agouti; Potentially making the tabby hairs of the cat have more melanin than normal. (Maybe also restricts it towards the base of the hair to explain the satin-like appearance it can have?)

So…given that they basically would have the opposite effects assuming that this is true, there's really no saying how they'd interact. They could cancel eachother out, one could be dominant over the other, ect… There's also no telling which one of these options is more likely.

I went with the idea that the grizzle would be more dominant/have more effect, but that the wideband could potentially still be in effect where the grizzle seems to be least present (around the belly & flanks) which kind of breaks up the solid-ness of most grizzle cats (since grizzle does vary a lot.)

Silver would still work the same throughout all of this & make the phaeomelanin a lighter almost-white color. (There's a potential grizzle also does this too? But. shrug.) …Again I really should've made the light yellow color more silver-colored but i digress.

Now we have colorpoint! Also have no clue if it'd have some weird secret surprise fucked up effect on grizzle but it does seem to be a fairly reliable gene in that it is just a form of albinism so it should have a similar or same effect on everything. It just inhibits colors in the warmer areas of the body & allows it in the colder parts (thus, extremities!)

....And from there you've guys seen what I did when I added the thai white! Not sure how DBE would effect it, but I made my best guess & it wasn't the most important part of this . adventure jdbhjhg

Oh, bonus picture of my canvas with the most refs i've ever used for one piece lol. (Digital piece, anyway. Ceramics is another thing entirely....)

shoutout to @/felinefractious for sourcing pretty much all of said refs lmao

[wanderbreadsworld]

Your Odd Airbnb Host

Vampire!Konig x reader

Summary: Reader travels to Europe and decides to get an Airbnb. After vetting the host, they finally booked the little cabin in Austria, only to be met by her odd host. He's. Strange to put it best. But he doesn't get in your way, nor you his. Luckily he only got up at night. Wait, what?

TWs: none so far

The plane finally landed. After hours of being stuck in one seat, I jumped at the opportunity to get out of this sardine can of human beings. Grabbing my things, I waited, albeit impatiently, for my turn to finally exit the craft. Once out of the terminal, I stepped to the side, so as not to be in the way, and then checked my phone. I had told my host when I'd be landing, and I wanted to make sure he saw my message. When I made my arrangements to do schooling here, he was kind enough to help me make most of them.

'He is waiting for you by the gate. Tall with a black suit, dark hair and sunglasses.'

Read his message, lighting up my face in the slightly dim airport. I lifted my head, and instantly spotted him as if he had just appeared. I rushed my way over, tired smile on my face as I was ready to get into a bed and sleep.

"Thank you for coming. I know he hired you for me, but thank you anyway." I thanked, grateful for his help, even if he was being paid. He gave me a small smile, taking one of my bags from me and wordlessly leading the way to the car.

The ride to the Airbnb seemed to take forever. I would have enjoyed the countryside along the way. But the fact it was night prevented me from seeing anything. And that's if I could even keep my eyes open, shamelessly falling asleep in the car. Curse my late flight.

"Miss? We've arrived." A voice pulled me from my slumber, and I realized we had made it. Overcome with excitement, my tired daze slipped away and let me be more awake. I eagerly hopped out of the car, to which the driver barely let me grab my own things, carrying them all himself. I conceded, letting him take my things. Instead, I took in the sight of the Airbnb. All the lights were on, illuminating the cabin from the inside, as well as the porch lights softly lighting my way to the front door.

The chilly night air pierced through my clothes, sending a chill down my spine, making me hurry for the door. But before I could knock, it swung open to reveal my host. A tall blonde man, easily as tall as the doorway. With piercing blue eyes. His visage took my breath away. I only shook myself out of my daze when I realized I was staring.

"Welcome. It is nice to meet you. You must be exhausted, come in!" He welcomed me inside, stepping behind the door to let me and the driver in. The warmth inside the house warmed my bones, and made me shiver as it washed over me. I barely even heard as my host behind me told the driver where to drop off my things, going ahead of me and out of sight. The inside of the cabin was cozy. I couldn't help admiring the simple, yet effective, architecture. It led me back in a circle to meet my host once more.

"Yes! Konig! It's nice to meet you finally! I wish I could've gotten here sooner. I hope I'm not interfering with your schedule, I know you said you prefer nights." I apologized, holding my hand out to shake his. He took it after a moment, seeming a little surprised I reached out to shake him hand, or even touch him at all. "It is no problem. I made sure I would be here to welcome you. I wanted to be an attentive host to help you settle in." He stopped a moment to wave the driver back out the door, sliding him a bill I could not see. "Would you like a tour now? I can give you one tomorrow evening, if you prefer to rest." His words were sweet. Each one dripping in his accent and sweet voice. It certainly did not match his physique, but I wasn't complaining about either one.

"I would take one tomorrow, if that would be alright. I'm afraid I must sleep. That flight was exhausting and I'm jet-lagged. Not used to such long flights." I chuckle lightly, rubbing one eye quickly. Konig gestured me towards the stairs. "Then I will show you to your room. If you'll follow me." From all our online interactions, he seemed sweet. And even more so now. He seemed very understanding.

Leading the way to my room, I didn't take in much detail of my surroundings. I was barely awake as he led me upstairs to the cozy little bedroom I would call mine for the next semester of school.

"I will leave you. You get some rest. I should rest soon as well. My night is nearly over." He checked his watch, realizing we were well into the A.M. by this point. "I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight." We exchanged goodbyes, and I got to close my door for the first amount of privacy I've had over the past 13 hours. I didn't even remove my clothes before climbing beneath the covers. The warmth of the cabin overtook me, and quickly lulled me into a deep sleep.

(Sorry it's kinda short, I just wanted to set this up. This fic will be very self-indulgent, with very specific details. I just wanted to share it anyway, because I like writing and wanted to share. It's been a while since I've written a fic, let alone one with chapters. Wish me luck lol.)

[biggestqiblifan]

Alright, seeing as its the Olympics, how many of the "Olympians" / Athletes are demigods?

[horsemeatluvr23]

the juppet !! i just realised he is jerma posing i swear that was unintentional...... i spent so long digging thru muppet concept art and looking at old puppet designs just to end up doing a rly simple drawing but. i love joehills!! i have only been watching them for like 4 years but their videos r so special to me :3

[zellk]

Forgot to share here.... old doodles of when I finally came around to finding a design I like for Qalaari's mom !!

[ratatatastic]

"...where everybody is...except for-little bit further for barky but it's good for me!" you can tell matthew has never stopped chirping sasha for living in boca (most of the sane guys chose places in ft lauderdale) which is a good half hour drive away from both amerant bank and the iceplex and those etas are sans traffic! the i-95 gets so congested i cant imagine what the drive is like when its rush hour lmaoooo yeah sasha deserves to be chirped to hell and back for choosing boca raton of all places and yeah no wonder this guys got a lead foot on the pedal huh

the fond little smile like oh here he goes again he does this all the time and matthews cheesy little proud grin "yes i do give you grief over this! its not the first time and it wont be the last time! i will keep doing it until you move closer to me!!"

HAPPY RAT ALERT! hes certified in the art of subtly that is if you chirp your captain enough maybe he will listen to the hints youre dropping and will in fact not live so far away maybe he will move into your house

the old married couple are doing old married things

"barky are you going to move closer to the facility?"our beat has to have their fun too and if it makes sasha smile then i can allow it! yes thats it bully him into moving closer!!!

edmonton oilers @ florida panthers game 5 post practise interview | 6.18.24 (x)

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Alright. Let's talk about Akai's and Furuya's fighting styles, control, and the ferris wheel fight, featuring some tangents on professionalism.

The second reason is the implied: Akai is (in general, probably not in this situation, because he is going along with the fight Rei wants) a professional, and professionals do not fight. A professional will either ambush or assassinate (you know, like the sniping Akai is so well-known for), and generally do everything in his power to avoid a fight. It's about gaining the advantage, pressing and keeping it, to maintain control over the situation. For comparison, fights are between people of roughly equal footing, and fighting follows rules. As a person who lives in the world of actual violence, Akai does not need the fancy dances of a fighting sport, he needs his rifles, guns, and a self-defense technique for when things go really bad and personal. (Incidentally, a professional will also plan, won't let his emotions get in the way, stay calm, and keep working in bad conditions - we also see these traits in Akai.) I can remember two instances of Akai fighting (there might be more)- the ferris wheel fight, and the one time he knocked out the people after Yumi (and arguably, they didn't really have a chance and it wasn't really a fight). Other than that, he's just coordinating and providing tactical support.

Akai using Jeet Kune Do for fighting is an interesting choice. It's not as well-known as many other fighting styles (hell, it's not even a fighting style, it's a self defense technique and really more of a philosophy or a principle), but it has a couple of key values that characterize him well. First off, it's hugely individualistic. Practitioner's are encouraged to find their own way, to find what works for them, which really is Akai in a nutshell, doing what he wants. Secondly, it is described as a highly efficient way to fight. There are few, if any, rules to Jeet Kune Do, you're expected to use whatever technique will help you the most in the moment. For this reason, it is also highly adaptable, and requires an appropriate mindset to use. This latter point, I think, really mirrors the approach the FBI has in the series - do what you need to in order to get the results we want, at whatever the cost.

The fact that it's a self defense technique is important for two reasons: one is the immediate one for our context - Akai's defending himself from an angry Rei on the ferris wheel.

With all that out of the way, let's get into the ferris wheel fight, and what we learn about them there.

For contrast, let's look at Rei. It's almost funny how little professionalism Rei has compared to Akai, when it comes to the world they're living in. Rei's choice of fighting style is boxing, and he's practicing a rather straightforward, aggresive version, with barely any defense, at great personal risk. That point about professionals not letting their emotions get in their way? Well, either Rei has never heard it, or he's deliberately ignoring it. Either way, it really holds him back from gaining and maintaing control.

(I would be remiss not to point out that boxing is also done for show, fitting for this show-off.)

Boxing might honestly be good for Rei in order get out his anger and to up his pain tolerance, but for the purpose of keeping him alive, it sucks. It's up close, it's personal, and it's dirty (that tagline might as well describe Furuya himself). A threat who's gotten into that range is already a problem. Sure, usually - though not in this instance - he's also got his handgun, with its limited reach, limited firepower. For his purposes, it might suffice - he's not supposed to be a fighter, and the advantage of his gun is in its concealability. I suppose he gets a couple points in professionalism for that choice, and for often bringing back-up, whether he's working for the PSB or the BO. For what it's worth, he's also likely trained in Kendo or something similar, as we see in Wild Police Story, but he doesn't really use it. We see Rei fighting rarely, but it happens; with Matsuda at the beginning of WPS, casually inflicting violence on a kidnapper, and now here on the ferris wheel.

It's so interesting to me how they interact here.

Despite both of them bleeding, it starts to feel like Akai is in control, or at least not dated by the fighting - he gets Rei good with Jeet Kune Do's signature One Inch Punch, but has enough presence of mind to casually grabs him so he doesn't fall to his death (which gets him shoved off with a foot. Give Furuya an inch, and he'll try to take your head). Furuya's meanwhile clearly enjoying himself, might have even entered the zone, a sort of battlejoy/trance, asking for a second round (here we go again, this is a fight, with certain rules, like rounds), and Akai, well, he's beaten up, but it doesn't look like he'd surrender to get Furuya off his back - despite it being an option that would end the fight early. We see both of them smiling at points in this exchange, and I think it speaks to both of them, inherently, being thrillseekers. Putting all they are into the outcome of this fight against a dangerous enemy is a thrilling brush with mortality.

Them fighting at all, on top of the ferris wheel, is stupid, plain and simple. They expect the BO to show up any minute, and they'd better be in peak condition - instead they indulge in this fight. Really, it's Rei launching himself at Akai, who's mostly dodging and defending where necessary (I say indulge, because he is armed, and could probably escalate/end the fight early). Fights happen for a variety of reasons, usually social (because otherwise we'd be talking about violence, not a fight), and this implies Rei sees Akai as roughly equal/wants him to have a fair fighting chance, following the social contract of announcing his presence. He launches the attack, takes the initiative but the distance is so large, and he telegraphs his intentions clearly enough that his advantage is minimal.

Akai has the distinct disadvantage of carrying his rifle case, protecting its contents, because he'll need them later. He is, as the series lets us know, a capable fighter (described stronger as Masumi, who can deal with Ran, an established capable martial artist), and we can see it in this fight. He's reading Rei's movements and blocking most of the hits - for what it's worth, Rei's style seems more focused on quantity of attacks over quality. He does get Akai with some unconventional angles of attack (like swinging up into a kick from falling), and mostly this initial struggle is about them fighting for control.

When we cut back to the fight, they're still at it. I find it interesting that Akai tries to talk Rei down throughout the fight. Because the presence of mind necessary to form coherent sentences in a fight is not nothing, and the fact that he at least tries to go for a different solution is noteworthy, even if it is ultimately useless.

Then Conan calls Akai. This is in a small pause to the fight, because, surprise surprise, fighting takes effort (another reason professionals avoid it). It is really funny to me how Rei respects the rules of a fight, but he also sees an opportunity in his opponent's distraction, and seizes it (at the cost of also throwing himself down into a chasm, the self-sacrificial bastard).

Only at this point does it feel like Akai is taking the fight more seriously. I'd wager this is a) because Rei has displayed the willingness to destroy himself to take Akai with him, b) due to the enclosed space - less space to dodge and c) because at least he is aware time is ticking. They're both injured, and the enemy is coming soon. This fight better be over quick.

They only don't fight each other to the death because of Conan's timely intervention. He calls to Akai for help, and just like that, the conflict is resolved, for now. Akai wordlessly rejects Rei's request for a second round, which Rei just...accepts. Allows Akai that level of control, and the control of the flow of information (namely, they don't tell Conan they've been at it). It baffles me, but then again, I suppose it is a fight, the fight has rules, and, clearly, something more important takes precedence. Then again, this whole damn exchange makes no logical sense. Rei has sworn bloody revenge on Akai, who just saved his life today, and instead of doing something about the BO they're fighting a little. Logic is nowhere to be seen, all of this is emotional. On both sides.

I guess bonus points in professionalism for working together for the rest of the rest of the movie, even if they're sharing intel with/depending on a literal child for the solutions to their problem. It's a very unusual set of circumstances indubitably not covered by their training, granted, so what can you do (I'd still love for the adults in this universe to do their job, sue me).

Last point of note for the movie, in my opinion, is Akai waiting after all the chaos is over for Rei to spot him. Is this a case of checking in and simultaneously showing that he, too, made it out alive? He is clearly noticed by Rei, and only then walks away. And Rei just lets him. Akai is in control, in the end.

[reinedeslys-central]

when it's been so long since you've read a fic that you forget about it and you find it in the search tags and start reading it again

and it's great, if a little familiar, but you've read a lot of these sorts of fics bc you like this tag a lot, so you assume it's nothing

but then the deja vu starts adding up and you start to wonder

and then moments before the great big Plot Twist Reveal happens you're suddenly like ah hell this is the bloody sundial fic again isn't it

smh this has to be the fourth time yet

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <33

[elizabethrobertajones]

hm.

[taylor]

still reeling over the fact that almost 2 months ago the guy i was talking to (not dating, but definitely 'seeing') took another girl TO MY AND MY ROOMMATE'S APARTMENT to FUCK HER ON OUR AIR MATTRESS while i was ON VACATION THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY

honestly. how do i get myself into these situations

[ell-arts]

YA'LL-

I did NOT expect such a healthy variety of unhinged reblogs for my last post I- 😭

[tkbrokkoli]

i think a thing im v passionate abt is music. or rather, listening to music. i listen to it when i work, when i drive, when i clean, when i walk. i spend several hours every day listening to music. once during a trip i didn't have the time to listen to music for several days and when i finally turned on some music it felt like the world was suddenly filled w more color and life. i once was so overwhelmed w awe and beauty listening to a song for the first time that it caused me to have a panic attack. in, like, a good way, like, wow, look at that song, it touched me so deeply that i lost control of my body for a moment. i sometimes get teary eyes or goosebumps when listening to music. i listen to the same song for hours on repeat. i don't know anything abt making music btw. i took guitar lessons for some time but im not talented or good at it and it took too much effort to continue. i love the sounds a guitar makes though. i also don't remember any music theory. i have a friend who's naturally talented at playing the guitar but they didn't enjoy it but even after years of not having picked up a guitar they can still play songs at birthday parties. i think it's funny that they are naturally good at it but they hate doing it and i love it but im not good at it at all.