He called out to her as he fell: a name that was both hope and despair. The wolf dove, though he knew he might never surface. Fur against her skin. Nose under her hand. She knew him, and he knew her.

Dug through my old wips to finally do something with this piece. Meant to be a companion to the initial chapters of Dead Pasts and Dread Futures. Turned into just an excuse to do a lot of swirlies. Certainly not the best I could do but it deserved to leave my harddrive.

Played with layer effects under the cut.

Thank you to @mytavruin for this wonderful artwork depicting the softest, sweetest post game moment for Astarion and Rolim.

I love this piece to bits and so I just had to write a scene around it that fit this absolute masterpiece!

Full Fic here (mind the tags!)

This moment will end up in a second, post-game fic.

Astarion got home really late last night, working overtime so he could spend the entire day at home with me. Because it's his birthday, and I want to make it special. It's the first real celebration since we defeated the Elder Brain and I was made mortal again nine months ago. I've planned out the day carefully: it'll start with breakfast in bed, then a stroll through the Upper City, window shopping so he can pick anything he'd like as a gift. In the evening, a small gathering with our friends from the tadpole days at the Elfsong Tavern. I feel giddy the second I wake, a smile curling at the corners of my lips as I sit up slowly, careful not to disturb Astarion's trance. It was surprisingly easy to slip back into the old habit of waking with the birds, greeting the dawn the way my mother and father taught me all those years ago. Sometimes I still can't believe it. I'm free now. I'm no longer a vampire. And I'm married to this incredible man who gives me all the time in the world to heal—who lets me navigate my traumas at my own pace, never once complaining. So today, I want it to be special. As special as I can make it. I've made so much progress. I don't even wear my eyepatch at home anymore. Astarion sees me, all of me—and loves me anyway. His constant support, his patience, mean everything. I slip out of bed, padding barefoot to the kitchen as quietly as I can. Once there, I set to work preparing one of the few dishes I've managed to master again. Getting back into cooking has been harder than I expected. I barely remember what food is supposed to taste like, so making it myself has been a challenge. But eggs, bacon, fresh orange juice, and coffee—I can manage that. I season the fluffy yellow curds just right, crisp the bacon to perfection, and make sure the coffee isn't too bitter. I top it all off with a bowl of grapes for a touch of sweetness. Tray in hand, I pad back upstairs. When I push open the door, my breath catches. Astarion lies in bed, the rising sun painting golden patterns on his bare chest. His breathing is slow, peaceful. One arm drapes across his eyes. He lifts it slightly, finds my gaze, and smiles as he sits up. His silver curls are a tangled mess—and still, he's gorgeous. He always has been. "Oh?" he says softly. "Spoiling me with breakfast in bed?" I remember how to breathe and nod, returning his smile as I step further into the room, balancing the tray carefully. "We could eat on the balcony", I suggest. "A lovely idea", he agrees. "Would you mind putting it out there?"

Jekyll hates Hyde’s messy hair, like he has trouble brushing it and if he tries to tie it up in a ponytail, it snaps the hairtie immediately but Jekyll won’t cut it because since he and Hyde share injuries, he doesn’t want to know what cutting Hyde’s hair would do to his hair.

The two might wear some clothes of their respective colors, Jekyll in Hyde’s body wears red while Hyde in Jekyll’s body wears green, which might confuse Lanyon and the others.

The two bicker over not making the other look ridiculous with their face. Jekyll scolds Hyde for trying to mess with his reputation, Hyde is annoyed at Jekyll for making him look ridiculous. The Lodgers are confused to seeing “Jekyll” talking to the air and acting different.

The feeling of the height difference is obvious since they are not used to walking at a different height, notice in Shatter Me! it looked like Jekyll’s clothes fit while he was in Hyde’s body but i think they actually are a bit baggy on him. Picture Jekyll trying on his clothes only to remember Hyde’s body is smaller, imagine an annoyed Red Eyed Hyde with Jekyll’s clothes drooping over him, same with Hyde who is annoyed his own clothes are a bit tight on him.

Hyde flirting with Lanyon much to Jekyll’s embarrassment. Lanyon is left confused and blushing.

Basically in some of their arguments, sometimes their Glaswegian accent comes out.

Andrés Cañal

* * * *

Living Mesh...

The convergence between variables is something strange and resonant...

It is incredible how “coincidences” seem to follow me.

I do not usually write this openly about things, but now I would like to approach a few thoughts.

It is not new to me that reality feels like an immense web, woven by countless interconnected events.

This interconnection is much deeper than we imagine.

It reaches even the smallest decisions made by people who existed before you could ever conceive any notion of consciousness, existence, or self.

When you know where to look, and what to look at, chaos and “randomness” begin to take on a far more complex shape.

There is no true order inside chaos.

But there is a tendency.

A segment.

There are phenomena within highly chaotic systems where small islands of harmony are created inside the disorder.

I keep wondering what these islands are.

How they form.

Why they form.

What makes every pattern converge toward a single state, a single flow?

The answer is somewhere inside the chaos that cannot be fully understood, grasped, or measured.

Not without the obsession of investigating and tracing its smallest variables.

From the choice of an ancestor who decided not to follow a certain path, or leave at a certain hour...

To the president chosen a hundred years before you were born, proposing ideas that still resonate in the present moment.

Every informational fractal, every chaos, every outcome, seems to lead and converge toward some point.

It may sound insane when read from the outside.

But when you begin to perceive and feel the “coincidences” in your own life, you start to notice that there is a pattern beneath it all.

Not as a higher or divine purpose.

But as a universal behavior.

A system that, no matter how chaotic, still follows a baseline.

An axis that structures it.

Invisible to human eyes.

Invisible to consciousness as we conceive it.

The moth.

The crimson-black lotus.

The broken mirrors.

Everything is random, and at the same time, nothing is random.

There is no real higher purpose waiting outside of you.

Nothing you discover from the outside in.

But there is a real and truly meaningful purpose.

The one you build from the inside out.

I do not understand why my life is so full of these so-called “coincidences.”

But I understand that if I keep obsessively searching for these answers...

Maybe something will emerge.

For now, madness knocks at the door.

When your soul is free and u have extrovert and weird personality all is so hard, belive me.

You are as a mirror who one day just broke and can't reflect anything more. As a fallen leaf who never will return to his tree .

Is so hard to just coexist with people around you.

So hard to just talk with people around you.

So hard to just laugh with people around you.

So hard to just hear people around you.

So hard to just work with people around you..

And isn't a depression shit or anything else, is just that's all is so hard. Also is so hard to explain this...

You are stronger than others.. u shine more than others.. and that's rly rly rly hard. They always will think there's something evil behind your words although your acts are always kind...

Because all around u always will think that you will eclipse them. That u don't need any help, that u are so innocent, that u haven't any problems, that u have all time to spend with them. That u are their clown to entertain them. That u can stole their jobs...

A dead road 🤦‍♂️ .. The worst thing is that shining people always just hide inside themselves to be cautious so they can't find to each others..

If you understand what I'm saying and wanna talk, here I am.

That's the true therapy here in Tumblr for me , honestly.

So thx to all u show me how u shine and how special you are.

It's not much safer being a middle class housewife than a whore.