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Not dead, just not really working on anything for this blog. Health getting in the way. It’s so damn frustrating. No, I haven’t forgotten this blog. Was even working on a request a couple of weeks ago. No, just absolute sucky health leeching all my energy for necessary day to day shit and not leaving much, if anything, for any kind of creative pursuit.
Oh how I wish those tubes led deep into my empty chest, grafted to my great vessels....i could just lay there and marvel at the incredible spectacle of my own disembodied heart muscle beating right before my eyes ...forever...
Animating my heartbeat! I spliced together a few different clips just so there'd be a bit more variety in my heartbeat. ^^; I hope the quality isn't too horrible once it's uploaded but I guess we'll find out together, huh?
Hello, I posted a bit while ago about this artistic piece: https://www.tumblr.com/karakuni6/809026598767575040/im-absolutely-amazed-by-this-artistic-video-by
I wonder if you are interested in writing a piece from the dancers point of view in this video XD appreciate your time!
Hello! I watched most of the video. It was kind of boring to me? Just not my thing I guess. Fictional characters are perfectly fine, but I feel very uncomfortable at the thought of trying to write from the perspective of another living, non-fictional human being. It just...no. Brain no likey at all.
Sorry, but I’m gonna have to pass on this one. I hope you can find another writer that can do what you're asking. Best of luck and sorry again!
Unless you don’t mind it being about a fictional dancer doing the same sort of thing? I can do that.
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I made a wonderful new friend here in the cardiophile community about a month or so ago. Such a friendly person! Such amazing content! I messaged them after interacting with their works and we happily chatted back and forth. They made a beautiful gif based on one of my cardiophile stories, and I had promised to write them anything they wanted in return. I’ve been eagerly awaiting the chance to pay them back and make it a proper art trade as agreed.
Yesterday, I discovered that their account was deactivated. No word, nothing, just out of nowhere. Now I’ll never be able to pay them back like we planned...
I like to give the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t help but wonder if they were chased or spooked off by rude guys treating them selfishly, demanding things etc.
I don’t want to think this way, but with the way things are regarding cardiophile newcomers to this place... Well, I'm sure many of you reading this can understand, right?
Hello there! I am a big fan of your work for a while now, can you please write a story about inside the body. Where the heart wants to meet up with a stomach, but the only way heart can do that is by supplying blood to stomach during digestion and slowly beating to get stomach's attenion. Stomach doesn't really know how to confess back so they growl loudly in reply, and heart absouletly folded and sped up and skipped the whole time.
Oh! And the two organs are guys~ and please tell me how long i have to wait, thank you! : )
Hi! A fan of my work, huh? That’s really nice to hear, thank you!
I'm no fan of romance, and I've never written anything homosexual. I can try, but I can’t guarantee anything. My health really impacts my writing, so I can’t give you even an estimate time frame, sorry. I still have unfinished requests from months ago.
I take requests, but I never guarantee they'll be done in a timely manner, if at all. I'll add your request to my list and see how it goes though!
@boredmasterpiece024 The insomnia hit me hard so I started writing. I banged out 1k of words for this. I hope you like it.
Also, as a fan of my work, I would really appreciate a like, reblog or comment on my content. It's nice to hear you're a fan. It's less nice to hear this for the first time while you want me to write you something. Feels far more take than give, y'know?
The inner workings of the body were complex and delicately balanced. Millions of years of evolution had shaped humans, inside and out, to be amazing creatures. Efficient biological machines, capable of extraordinary feats. The inner workings were a world unto itself. A world just waiting to be explored.
Every organ in the body had a place and a role. Not one of them stepped, metaphorically, outside of their bounds.
And yet Heart wanted to. He wanted to so very badly.
Heart was nestled between Lungs, with Left Lung constantly hugging one side of his ever beating form. They got along well for the most part, with only a few small hiccups here and there. Heart was also in constant contact with Brain. He was forever receiving messages to beat; to let his atria fill with blood, push that blood down into his ventricles, then to let his muscular form contract, to squeeze tight and force the blood to eject. It was a never-ending cycle, broken only by messages to speed up or slow down.
When Lungs stopped moving for more than a few beats, Heart began to feel awkward, like a dancer on a dance floor with no routine to perform. The longer Lungs refused to move, the more confused and bad Heart felt. At first Brain would tell him to beat slower, to conserve energy, but then Brain began to demand energy, more and more, forcing Heart to speed up and pound in disoriented desperation.
Heart didn’t mind Brain either, even if the messages sometimes seemed messy.
The one Heart wished to communicate with the most was Stomach. He was intrigued by Stomach’s dulcet, rumbly tones. Stomach had a rough voice, but Heart thought it rugged. He enjoyed hearing the other whenever Stomach spoke up. Unfortunately, they were not in physical contact. Diaphragm was firmly in the way, blocking them from each other. Not that Stomach knew of Heart’s desire.
— — —
Stomach had a formidable job, and could only pay attention to things outside of work at certain times. He needed focus. He was also surrounded by multiple other organs. Sometimes Stomach thought about the organs he wasn’t in contact with and wondered if any of them thought about him in return. That was silly – he knew no one cared for him beyond work.
When Oesophagus brought food to Stomach, he got to work digesting it, breaking it down to make it easier for Intestines to extract any nutrients. Stomach was usually quiet during this process, unless something went wrong, and so it was easy to notice a slight increase in his blood supply. It was fairly slow, and very steady, with a pleasing rhythm.
Whoosh… whoosh… whoosh… whoosh…
Stomach wondered what Heart was doing. There had been no messages from Brain about needing extra blood, and there was nothing wrong or the pulses would be fast and possibly erratic. Maybe Heart was having a moment of some sort?
Heart was such an interesting organ, and Stomach wished he knew more about him, wished they were in contact. When Stomach was really quiet and still, he could hear, and feel, Heart beating. It was a mesmerising sound, and the thumping felt like dancers coming together on a dance floor, to hold one another in a rhythmic hug almost. Stomach loved it.
Ba-thump, squeeze, ba-thump, squeeze, ba-thumpÂ
Hopefully Heart was okay. Stomach longed to reach out, but how?
— — —
Heart was sad. He had tried to communicate with Stomach the only way he could – by pushing blood – but there was no reply of any sort. Heart gave a sigh, then a sniffle, the jerky motion interrupting a beat and causing the ventricles to contract twice in a row. Brain vaguely acknowledged the mistake. Oops. He had to get a hold of himself.
There would be other chances. Hope was far from lost.
About fifteen thousand beats later, or three and a half hours in human time, Stomach was back at work and Heart was ready to try again. Sadly, he could not direct extra blood only to Stomach, as Blood followed every single pathway all at once. Still, Heart focused on Stomach, on that unseen voice, as he steadily, sensually beat… beat… beat…
— — —
Stomach was as quiet, still, and focused as could be. Not only was he working hard again, but this was his next best chance to check on Heart. So to speak. And just as Stomach turned his concentration to Heart, there it was again.Â
Ba-thump, squeeze, ba-thump, squeeze, ba-thumpÂ
No one else seemed to notice, and Brain was quiet about it. Stomach couldn’t just ignore this oddity. He had to reply! There was no other way.
Stomach revelled in the hug-like pulses and embraced them as he shuddered, giving out one loud GROWL. It had a slight vibrato to it, perfectly in time with every steady beat.
— — —
Perhaps Stomach hadn’t noticed again. Or perhaps Stomach was ignoring him. Heart began to fret at that. How awful if Stomach wanted nothing to do with him! Heart was getting lost in his negative ruminations when–
GROooOOOooOOOooOWL!
Stomach’s melodic voice echoed clearly throughout the entire thoracic cavity. Lungs hitched ever so slightly while Ribs rattled gently.Â
Heart could feel every tiny vibration of that glorious sound skittering across his surface and bouncing around Pericardium. The caress was soft yet oddly commanding, perfectly in time with his own attention seeking beats. Stomach had answered!
Heart quivered, so full of joy he feared he might burst. Brain was ignored as Heart tuned out messages in his exaltation. There was no order, no rhythm anymore, just the rush of surprise and happiness that made Heart dance.
Heart had heard him, right? But how would he know–
Oh?
OH!
Heart was racing and booming, thumping and pounding, the beats wild and unpredictable. The rush of blood was now definitely fast, and more erratic than Stomach had ever heard or felt. The pulsing felt amazing and he gurgled happily, earning more stuttered racing just as Heart seemed to regain his normal rhythm.
Heart clearly thought about Stomach and he was elated.
Together they would sing and dance, unusual partners, forever talking to the other in a never-ending performance both thoroughly enjoyed.
Hello there! I am a big fan of your work for a while now, can you please write a story about inside the body. Where the heart wants to meet up with a stomach, but the only way heart can do that is by supplying blood to stomach during digestion and slowly beating to get stomach's attenion. Stomach doesn't really know how to confess back so they growl loudly in reply, and heart absouletly folded and sped up and skipped the whole time.
Oh! And the two organs are guys~ and please tell me how long i have to wait, thank you! : )
Hi! A fan of my work, huh? That’s really nice to hear, thank you!
I'm no fan of romance, and I've never written anything homosexual. I can try, but I can’t guarantee anything. My health really impacts my writing, so I can’t give you even an estimate time frame, sorry. I still have unfinished requests from months ago.
I take requests, but I never guarantee they'll be done in a timely manner, if at all. I'll add your request to my list and see how it goes though!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I've seen one where a Spoink gets paralysed in battle and passes away, but I'd really love to see one with a visible heart and see how each bounce makes it beat... and to see it stutter and stop if Spoink stops bouncing 🥺
So, from the poll, I know there's an overwhelming majority of you who prefer women's heart content but I'm making an exception today. I took some creative liberties but the idea for this one came from a story from @beatinginavoid which is well worth a read! <3
The place was an interesting one for scientists and nature lovers alike. At night the plains were always covered in an inexplicable fog, baffling scientists and making travel virtually impossible. During the day, however, the fog vanished entirely, revealing beautiful grassy plains that reflected light like ripples in water whenever the wind blew.Â
It was breathtakingly scenic and people were always flocking to the area. Hikers, scientists, geographers, documentary crews, photographers, even people getting married.
Wandering the plains was not strictly forbidden, but only a fraction of the natural wonder was available to the public. Too many had become lost trying to traverse the plains, and precious few ever stumbled their way back to the fringes to be found by tourists and staff of the plains.
What really attracted people though, was a shiny, unknown glint of bright light that could only be observed for several short minutes when the sun reached its zenith each day. The time the glint was visible changed every single day as the seasons favoured longer nights, then longer days.
Speculation about the light was always running rampant. Some people claimed it was alien communication, while others stated it was merely a reflective surface created by a cliff being sheared by some natural force. All sorts of stories and theories were constantly being shared, but nothing had ever been proven. No one that went seeking the light ever returned, despite the latest technology combined with professional teams, so answers were in frightfully short supply. No drone, helicopter, or plane made it back either.
Until now. A stranger, wearing bright white clothing from head to toe, including a large backpack filled with hiking supplies, along with a high-vis vest, stared out at the plains. They would be the first to reach the mysterious glint and bring back answers.Â
So, what happened when they wandered into the plains?
— — —
The grass was soft, with an oddly waxy sheen, and almost reached to your armpits. It probably didn’t help that you weren’t quite five and half feet tall. You were used to trees reminding you that you were short but not grass.
The grass itself was odd. The waxy sheen tasted awful to grazing animals, so the plains were untouched by sheep, goats, cattle, horses, and any other ungulates that lived nearby.
Scientists were all over it, hoping to create strains that they could use for various reasons. Imagine having custom made turf that only a lawn mower could keep in check! No more stray lawn nibbling.Â
You didn’t care for the science though. The grass was not the reason you were here and you weren’t concerned with it.
No, no, no. You were here for one shiny prize.
The scientists had estimated it to be anywhere from two to twenty kilometres away, so you had prepared accordingly. You had all of the travelling technology, old and new, to get wherever you wanted to go. More than even that, you had the will, the drive, the passion!
As the sun’s rays burst over the horizon, you could see the fog already beginning to burn away. When enough fog has thinned and disappeared you hurry forward. The plains practically swallow you up immediately but you merely grin. On and on you go, carefully logging your progress via map and GPS. Hours pass as your feet eat up the kilometres.
It was almost midday. The glint should be close. Hopefully you hadn’t gone past it already. You pull out some binoculars and slowly scan around, spinning in a circle.
There!
You gasp and swear, almost dropping the binoculars. A light so bright it was almost blinding could easily be seen a couple of hundred metres away. You trade the binoculars for a camera and begin snapping away as you run toward the light, desperate to reach it before the light fades so you would know exactly what it was.
This was it! You were here! When you got back you would be rich and famous beyond your wildest dreams!
The sun slipped from its very zenith and the light vanished as though a switch had been turned off. There, now visible, was a cliff that appeared to be crystalline up close. At the foot of the cliff, set in a cleared patch amongst the swaying grass, was what appeared to be a large, circular dish. You walk up to it, place your backpack down, take some photos, and poke it.
A shiny silver disc, polished into a crude mirror. Your reflection was not the clearest, but it would have no trouble bouncing light onto the cliff.
Oh, no. Were the alien theorists correct? Who had made this? Who had placed it here? And why?
It was your job, your dream, to find out. You spin around to investigate the cliff and jump back, startled. Standing before you was a silvery horse, wings tucked against its sides, and a pearlescent horn jutting from its forehead.
What the hell? Was this a pegasus? A unicorn? What did one call a horse with both wings and a horn?
It whinnied and nickered playfully before it lowered its head and jutted forward. You step back automatically and a dull gong-like noise sounds as you back into the mirror. You suck in a breath as your body is drawn to the disc like a magnet to a fridge. Struggling gets you nowhere, but it’s the only thing you can do so you keep at it. The mirror gives off tiny squeaks from your clothing, but they are almost drowned out by harsh thumping. Your heart, pounding away, is being picked up by the slightly concave disc and projected like a speaker.
You’ve never heard it like this before and you can’t help but be enthralled, even as you continue to struggle. The winged unicorn too appears to be taken by the steady, though fast, thumping of your cardiac muscle.
It slowly walks forward and bows, its rather sharp looking horn tearing your shirt fully open with one swift yet delicate move. You look down at your now bared chest. Your ribs and stomach heave with every breath. Directly beneath the sternum, and a little to the left, your skin pulses noticeably as your heart rhythmically pushes it from underneath.
The horn returns and hovers, the tip directly over the centre of your heart, threatening to puncture the skin and graze your sternum with every inhale. The horn begins to glow, a beautiful yet cold silver to match the mirror. Your heart picks up speed as fear floods your system.
Your body jolted at the light attack, and you could feel your heart briefly stutter in your chest before resuming its former rhythm and pace. You could clearly hear it too. What was going on? What was this crazy Barbie horse doing?
It shook its head, giving a playful little neigh. The horn is lowered again, once more lining up with your heart. It glowed again, shooting the light into your chest.
You gasp as your organ gives a painful twinge, a few erratic pumps, and an uncomfortable pause before slamming against your ribs as if in protest.
You try to wriggle free, to move an arm, with all of your might, but it’s as if the mirror has paralysed your muscles, holding them in place. Is it toying with you? Is it just having some fun before it kills you? If you ever get out of here, turning on a light switch is going to be an ordeal for a while. If. Maybe this thing is the real reason that nobody ever made it back.
You pant harshly as if you’ve run a marathon, heartbeat still booming in your ears. The horn is lined up for round three. Light glows brighter than before, and you swear you can feel the light pass through skin, muscle, and bone to reach its target. The poor pump thuds alarmingly. Then the powerful muscle seems to forget how to relax and contract, almost quivering helplessly.
You’re dizzy and there are little black spots in your vision. Your cardiac muscle is useless like this; a flailing sack of meat full of blood it can't move, and you worry that this is the end. The beleaguered heart gives a couple more attempts at pushing blood around your body, then it rediscovers how to do its job and thumps weakly but effectively. You can clearly hear your tired organ get back into a proper groove, each pump slightly stronger than the last, until it’s back where it started.
Mostly. It throws a skip here and there, each one twisting painfully between heaving lungs. You gulp down air as if you’ll never get enough. Your ribs feel too tight for your greedy lungs, and your heart is trying its best to ward off their restrictive embrace from all sides.
The horn lines up again. The glow is dimmer now, and you barely have time to acknowledge that fact, let alone ponder what it might mean, before you are shot a fourth time.
You pant like a dog as your heart lurches before shifting into overdrive. The pounding is loud, shaking your chest and the mirror. It speeds up so much you can barely distinguish each beat as it races.
A minute passes. Two. Five. What is the creature waiting for? The poor beating organ is still slamming away at what feels like two hundred beats per minute minimum. Your chest feels sore, tight, and heavy, the ache increasing the longer your pump is going full-throttle, and your battered heart feels like it needs a nice, relaxing massage. Were you going to die a drawn-out death after your heart gave up because it couldn’t sustain such severe tachycardia for a few hours?
No. The winged unicorn wasn’t done. It lines up for round five, the glow growing brighter than ever. Oh no. Light shoots into you and the effects are instant. Your body tries to arc horribly, and you wonder if this is what a defibrillator feels like.Â
Now you were bradycardic. After the light hit your heart, the organ had been worryingly still and quiet in its cage. No sound, no movement. Several long seconds went by, and you could feel your consciousness begin to fade as blood and oxygen failed to circulate. Your heart gave a beat then fell still for a couple of seconds. Another beat. Another long pause. You clung to consciousness.
Another beat, then the confused muscle started skipping and stuttering, the blood pumping awkwardly, painfully, slowly, but pumping all the same. The atria and ventricles were not very coordinated, and blood was backed up, going the wrong way, or squeezing out through what felt like dumb luck. You weren’t sure that your pump knew how to pump anymore.
It was still thudding, getting slowly faster, though it skipped, stumbled, and stuttered the whole way. The winged unicorn was preparing for round six. The horn glowed bright, brighter, brighter, then fired. Your cardiac muscle gave a huge jolt. A long pause. A contraction. Some thumps. The pump faltered. Again. Again. It pulsed weakly once, twice. Your heart quivered for a moment then fell still. Your consciousness, and your life, came to an end.
The winged unicorn saw you shudder and fall still as it heard the last desperate and exhausted beats of your heart ring out. It reared back, neighing in joy and triumph. It lowered its head once more. Its horn glowed again, but the light didn’t strike the inert pump. The skin, muscles, and bones in front of the heart melted away into nothing. The sharp horn was lunged forward, spearing the overworked muscle. It was wrenched from the chest cavity and the winged unicorn reared again, whickering happily as blood trickled down to decorate the shiny being.
Don’t wander the plains.Â
— — —
I wrote this all in one go last night because I couldn't sleep. I tied my stethoscope in place and it was my soundtrack for 5 hours straight. It was uncomfy and hurt my ears, but it was worth it.
It's been ages since I posted the last part. Don't worry, I made a start on the last part after I finished this. Hopefully it won't take me another age to finish it.
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