#every day I've pushed myself to do things that are meant to be good

[chloelouygo]

Vent journal time babeyyyy

[abby-howard]

You mentioned deadlifting to prevent wrist and back pain/injury when drawing👀 I was wondering if you could share your workout routine if you haven’t already?

Definitely!! I love talkin about it haha. And I'll preface that this is just what I do, but if you want a professional's advice, I've heard good things about the book Draw Stronger by Kriota Willberg.

Tony and I usually work out 5/6 days a week, three days of lifting and two or three days of cardio, with at least one rest day a week. I always make sure to do a cardio warm up before lifting, between 15-30 minutes of either the stationary bike or rowing machine. That's what I have available, you can also run or do jump rope or whatever gets you goin'! Sometimes when it's a just-cardio day we go for long walks and talk about work. Good stuff gets done on those walks 👍

Our lifting routine is arm day, leg day, shoulder day, and we usually do 5x5 sets of everything-- so five sets of five reps per workout.

I sprinkle in farmer's walks really often, which are the best for wrist strength!! Especially if deadlifts are too intimidating (deadlifts are super good for your grip strength and back, but can be a bit scary because it's usually a high weight.) You just hold a weight in one hand, pretty much the highest weight you can hold while keeping your shoulders level, and walk in figure 8's (for balance) until your arm gives out. Then switch arms. Any time my hand starts to feel iffy, I do more farmer's walks and it helps!

More specifics under the cut:

On arm days we do mostly bench press and bent-over dumbbell rows, sometimes with abs worked in (I like to do windshield wipers or whatever it's called, where I hold the bar like I'm doing a bench press then bring my legs up on either side until my abs give out.)

For leg days, we do barbell squat and deadlifts. It's also fun to do the slam balls as part of leg day >:] Where you pick up a heavy ball and throw it down and scoop it up in a squatlike motion. It's a fun one!

There's ALSO a time-efficient leg workout I do when we're on deadlines where you do three minutes of wall sits in total, and can take as many breaks as you need, but for every break you do ten bodyweight squats. It usually leaves me feeling like jello.

Shoulder days are focused on lat pull-downs for me and pull-ups for Tony (I can only do pull-ups with a counterweight ToT), then shoulder press (where you sit up and lift a weight over your head.) It's good to pair opposite motions like pushing/pulling! I think we also tend to do bicep curls on these days? They're a grab-bag of whatever extra stuff we want to do.

This schedule is not super rigorous, but is enough that I push myself to do something almost every day while usually not being so exhausted that it cuts into my work. It's the kind of thing that I can keep up for the rest of my life, which is what I'm interested in! Maintaining a routine to protect my joints and mobility for as long as I can ✌️

I used to see working out and the gym in general as something I was punishing myself with, and that meant it was a miserable part of my day and working myself up to it was a mentally exhausting task. But Tony has been really helpful in shifting the way I view working out as something more like regular maintenance, and of course it helps that I found something I could work towards getting better at, which is strength training!

So while I recommend that artists work in some arm strength exercises, I do feel it's about finding something that feels like a part of your routine rather than something you dread doing every day.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I'm curious how do you think Quinn would handle a breakup? Maybe one where he's being broken up with?

Boy, was this one hard to write... 90% of this is based on my last breakup, so... it's pretty... painful. SO ENJOY my misery! (I gave you a better ending than I had IRL, so you're welcome for that at least.)

"I loved you, I really did."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Quinn begged. "I still love you, Y|N."

"But you don't show it, Quinn. I've been so alone for so long and I just can't put myself through this anymore." Tears had been streaming down your face for several minutes now, since this whole spiraling conversation had started, yet you never broke eye contact with him. You wanted him to know how much this was hurting you to say and just how long you had been carrying the weight of it all.

"I tried to tell myself it would pass. It was this excuse, and that excuse, but nothing ever changed. I just don't think you can handle a relationship and your career right now. I'm tired of lying to myself. I'm tired of acting like tomorrow will magically be better. It's never better."

"Y|N I'm sorry--"

"I'm sure you are, and so am I, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

Quinn said nothing, his eyes dropped from your face while he stood there looking completely lost.

"You always say I don't deserve to feel the way I do when I'm down, because you've caused me to feel that way, but that's as far as it goes. Nothing ever changes. It's the same stuff over and over."

"I know, that's on me," he choked out, throat tight with anxiety. "I never intended to hurt you. I didn't think things were as bad as they were. I didn't realize I was hurting you."

You just shook your head in disbelief at hearing him say he hadn't noticed what he was doing to you. "You know, maybe I just asked too much from you. Maybe I demanded too much and you had no choice but to push back. I just don't know."

Quinn's eyes flick back to you immediately, "You were never too much, and I meant that every time I told you -- every time I tried to reassure you. You have always been there for me."

"And what about you? Where were you when I needed you the most? Distant, closed off, out with the guys? Even when you were beside me, you weren't really there. I begged you to do stuff with me and you'd say sure, but something would always come up. It was like you wanted an excuse to be away from me. I understood in the beginning, but fuck! I wouldn't hear from you until the next day. 'Sorry, I fell asleep. I left my phone at the hotel.' How could I not be suspicious?"

"I never cheated on you!" Quinn cried out.

"But, Quinn, the goddamn panic attacks you caused me! That hurt me!" Your voice was so much louder now, straining to remain below a yell. He was a blur in your eyes, with the tears obstructing your vision. "I begged you for the smallest of things! Christ, I'd say, 'good night, I love', and it was like you'd just ignore what I said. You never said anything the next morning! You say you love me, but you're horrible at showing it."

Quinn's voice, on the other hand, was growing smaller each time he had to plead his case. "I never fell out of love with you, Y|N, it's just like we drifted apart. I love how you treat me. I just wasn't used to being treated that way. I'm sorry if it came off like I was pushing you away."

"It was months though, Quinn. Months of feeling like I was the third wheel or just another friend. I don't like feeling so alone in a relationship. It's horrible."

"I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry. Can I do anything to make this better?"

You were biting your bottom lip so hard when you heard his half-assed apology you tasted blood shortly after. "No, I don't think so. Too much has happened. I never thought we'd come to this. I thought you were going to be the last guy I had to open up to; the last guy I'd have to explain my past to. I wanted you to be my last, Quinn."

"I know, and I'm sorry I hurt you like this. I just got too comfortable and never checked in with how you were feeling. It was selfish of me. I'm not proud of any of this."

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, too. Sorry I had to bring this up out of the blue, but I've just reached my breaking point one too many times."

Even through all of your anger and sadness, you wanted to walk over to him and give him one last hug, but you had to stand your ground or all of these revelations would be for nothing. Too many times before you had talked yourself out of telling him how you had felt, but there would be no going backwards now.

"I've got to put myself first for one," you finally brought yourself to say. "I'll get my stuff out of here while you're on the road."

"Y|N--," he mumbled, his eyes so sorrowful hearing you say your goodbyes, so finite and decided.

"I hope everything works out for you, Quinn. I really do. I hope you find the person that's right for you. Someone who can handle your life and schedule. Again, I'm sorry but that doesn't appear to be me."

That was it. You had said everything you had argued with yourself over for months, in a matter of minutes, and now you were leaving his apartment. You'd linger on your decision for a moment once the door closed behind you, but you had to force yourself to go forward though your heart was begging you to go back.

On the other side of the door, you wouldn't hear him finally break down; his cries unheard and his heart shattered.

You'd reach the parking garage and get in your car but you didn't leave immediately -- almost like you were wanting to see if Quinn was just behind you, but the elevator door never opened. It was for the best. What would you have done if he had? Run back over to him? Say you were sorry? It was best not to think about the what-ifs.

It would hit you, as you rolled onto the street, that the next time you returned it would be to get your things, and likely the last time you'd ever be at his apartment. That apartment held so many memories, both good and bad. It felt more like home than your own did.

You'd find yourself in a silent argument the whole drive home until one song, on your shuffled playlist, catches your ear. It was Venice Bitch, by Lana del Rey, a song you loved until, for the first time, you noticed how much it aligned with your emotions.

"Fresh out of fucks forever, trying to be stronger for you. Ice cream, ice queen... oh god, miss you on my lips. It's me, your little Venice bitch...on the stoop with the neighborhood kids, calling out bang-bang kiss-kiss...and as the summer fades away, nothing gold can stay...you're right, I told you we'd make it work, you're beautiful and I'm insane...we're American made...give me Hallmark: one dream, one life, one lover...paint me happy and blue."

The music swells, as your tears run off your jawline. You loved Quinn so much! He had been the prince you had dreamed of, wished for and what had you done?

"Oh god, love him on my lips...touch me with your fingertips...it's me your little Venice bitch."

You'd pull in your driveway, your forehead resting against the steering wheel while you screamed out in agony at your broken heart. Your body hurt from crying for so long, throat sore from such loud emotions, and chest heavy with anxiety. Eventually, you'd exit your car and drag yourself to your front door. You couldn't just crawl into bed after all of that, you would need help in crying yourself to sleep. So, in the kitchen, you'd go through two glasses of wine while you convinced yourself you were such an idiot. Realizing you had thrown away the best thing to ever happen to you, you would being crying to loudly, it was like you were screaming. It was any wonder you hadn't awoken your sleeping neighbors next door. There was no fixing this now. What was done, was done.

All you wanted was some comfort but there would be no one to give you any. Not now. You felt you didn't deserve it anyway.

Leaving the glass and open bottle on the island, you forced yourself to the bathroom to wash your face. Seeing yourself in the mirror --how broken you looked-- had you been any weaker, you would have thrown something at it to erase the image from your mind. If only it would have been that easy to erase Quinn's sad eyes pleading for you not to leave. You wish you would have just left the light off.

In your bedroom, either out of habit or for comfort you grabbed a shirt to sleep in, which had been one of Quinn's. It hadn't taken long for the slight buzz to affect you but you felt no lighter or less phased by your actions. You wondered if you ever would.

As you figured you would, you'd cry into your pillow until flat exhaustion would pull you into sleep. That was until the buzzing of your phone would wake you from the light slumber. On the screen, "Huggy Bear" illuminated the room in bold, white letters. You ended the call, but no sooner had the phone screen gone black, it was flashing again. Like the first one, you swiped the red button and the ringing finally ceased. The next time the phone would buzz would be from a text notification. The words would send butterflies pulling your heart in one hundred different directions.

"I'm outside. Please, may I talk to you?"

Torn between leaving him out there in the cold, and actually giving him a moment to say what he needed to, you laid there for a few minutes before throwing the blankets aside and stumbling down the hall to the living room. Wiping your cheeks, you unlocked the door to find him standing there, his hoodie pulled up around his messy curls and his eyes bloodshot and wet.

You lean against the doorframe for support; arms crossed in an attempt to hide your deeper emotions.

"Y|N, I don't want things to be this way. I don't want things to end like this."

It was so hard, but you stood your ground, no matter how hard you wanted to fall into his body and tell him you were sorry.

"I'll try harder. I shouldn't have taken you for granted like I did."

Finally, you say something to him with a slight shaking of your head," This wasn't all on you. I asked too much. I'm sorry."

Your stifled cries can't be held back for long, and shortly after apologizing, you cover your face with your hands to hide your crying. Your whimpers stab Quinn in the heart all over again, still feeling he's the sole reason you're feeling this way. He steps forward, and wraps his arms around you. He's so warm against the cold night air, which causes your nails to dig into his back, allowing yourself to return his embrace.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" You cried out, holding on to him like a lifeline.

"So am I," Quinn whispered in to your ear, trying to keep you from a panic attack. "C'mon, let's get you back inside. Is that okay?"

You'd allow him to guide you back into the warmth of the your house. He would be the one to shut and lock the door, and through all of that, he'd still keep you pressed against his chest.

"I never wanted to make you cry," he confessed, never realizing how much he could miss the feeling of you in his arms.

"I can't believe I hurt you like that, Quinn," you replied, hiding your face from his.

"Don't apologize, please." he said, nearly on the brink of tears himself. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much that we even got to this point in the first place."

The fact that he had even wanted to see you, to drive outside of the city to get to you, and above all else, not telling you how much of a horrible person you had been, spoke volumes of Quinn's willingness to be better for you. He wrapped both arms around you tighter than he ever had before. You were shivering, wearing nothing but that oversized t-shirt, but you didn't care; being cold wasn't going to take away whatever this moment was with Quinn.

"Are you okay?" He asked, running a hand up and down your spine. "You're shaking."

"I don't know."

"Come on, pretty girl, let's get you back to bed, hm? If you'll let me."

You nod, but were still reluctant to let go of him. Now you were forced to face him and it felt terrible to still see him looking so heartbroken. His cheeks were still wet with fresh tears, as he had apparently been silently crying while he had been holding you. You touched his face and his eyes closed against your touch.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes would open again, and he would try to smile for you. "I'm sorry, too."

Without another world, Quinn would guide you back down the hall to your bedroom, rather familiar with where everything was in the house. The light was off, your phone lay in the middle of the bed with the screen on. Your wallpaper was a picture of Quinn and yourself at last year's Stanley Cup playoffs, and it was the only light in the room. Quinn would click on one of the bedside lamps before reaching for your phone.

"I always loved that photo," he said, lingering on the photo for a moment before shutting off the screen and laying it next to the lamp.

You'd crawl into the bed and he would move to tuck you in, "I don't want you to hate me, Quinn."

He'd stop moving to return his eyes to your face. "I don't, sweetheart. I don't think I could...ever. It hasn't crossed my mind."

"But--"

"I'm not upset with you, baby. This is on me. What you said was true: I should have paid more attention.

You gasped through the beginnings of another crying fit, "I don't deserve it!"

"Shh, shh," Quinn leaned forward to cradle your face with his hand. "I needed to hear it, baby. The truth hurts sometimes. I'll be okay once you are."

"Will you-- will you stay tonight?" You asked, terrified he could possibly deny your request, trying to stop crying.

"Of course," he managed to actually smile. "I'd love to."

"Quinn, I'm so--"

"It's okay, it's okay. We've both said it enough."

You'd sniffle with an added nod as he pulled back the covers to get in next to you. He'd turn off the lamp before you found your place against his chest.

"I'll be right here when you get up, okay?" He assured.

"Promise?" You mumbled.

"I promise. I also promise not to make you feel like this again."

You didn't know what to say. It was like he had completely forgiven you for everything. "I don't want to lose you."

"You haven't sweetheart. I'm right here," he said, running a hand through your hair. "I love you."

Quinn's admission made you cry again, "I love you, too, baby."

"Shh, shh, you don't need to cry. I'm right here. I'm yours as long as you want me."

[liiixsturniolos]

" A letter I wish I'd sent. " M.S

angst/fluff MATT STURNIOLO wc:764

| It had been a year now. Since you and Matt had ended things. Well, really, since Matt had ended things...

The night in the car when he'd broken up with you had washed and cascaded through your mind for months like a traumatic wave, coming back to haunt you and tease your brain. The memory of the pouring rain, Matts trembling voice and the tears which then streamed down your face as he told you the news.

A year. A whole year you'd gone without Matt, the man who used to dance with you at 3am, the man who used to push strands of your hair behind your ear when he'd kiss you, the man who used to write you letters about the way you looked, your 'angelic' voice and the adorable way you laughed.

Three hundred and sixty-five days without the man who you had sworn you would be with for the rest of your life. You don't even know how you got through it, it was a hazy year. Your friends helped you get back on your feet. You got a new apartment and focused more on your work. Over the year your wound healed up, and your undying love for Matt, died a little, and faded away, but you would still kill to see his face one more time, to kiss him one more time, that's all you wanted.

You hadn't found anyone new yet, you were just living contentedly. Alone, but peacefully, and sort of happy.

Your new job would bring you to New York. A place you were fond of and excited to go to. Packing your bags of course was a chore you'd put off until the day you had to leave for the airport.

It wasn't convenient but when the morning came you rummaged around your apartment searching for all of the things you had to bring.

Your eyes land on your book collection. Very dear to you, poetry books and romantic stories you knew you'd need to take. Your mind wanders as you flick through the pages of an old poetry book, then pick up another and do the same.

Your eyes halt to a sudden stop when you see a foreign piece of paper lodged into the page of a book.

On page number 58, a neatly folded, lined piece of paper read..

Dear y/n, I hope that whenever you read this, you're well. I hope that you've moved. I hope you're living out in a big city as you've always dreamed of. I hope that whoever you have found now treats you kindly and appreciates your melodic laugh and the intoxicating colour of your deep brown eyes. I hope that whoever you're with now knows that they have the most beautiful, smart, and funny girl to exist. Not everyone who walks into your life will be meant to stay, I certainly wasn't. I wasn't a good enough man for you. I got angry fast, and I hate myself for it. It's a weird feeling having to go from holding your head on my chest every night, and your face nuzzled into the nape of my neck to staring at the blank ceiling of what used to be our bedroom without you here. I can't sleep without you. You were the first person I ever loved Y/n. You will always be the only person I've ever loved. With every bone in my body I wanted to devote my life to you, to grow old with you and only you until my deathbed. You drew memories in my mind I could never erase, you painted colours in my heart I can never replace. I'm afraid I will never be good enough for someone like you, I loved everything about you and maybe that was my fault. You gave me something I had never had before, I found rest in your arms and peace when I looked at your face. I know that I will love you forever y/n. So whenever you read this, tommorow or in years I hope you don't love me back, because I could never deserve someone like you. Tommorow you will come to pick up your things from my house. The house that used to be ours. You'll hate me for a while and I know it. That's why I'm writing this to you. To slip it into our favourite poetry book that I read to you, when I stroke your cheek with my free hand and your eyes flutter asleep. I love you. I'll love you forever and that's my fault.

hey! I hope you liked this tysm for reading, please interact if you enjoyed!! part 2 maybe? [not proofread]

taglist hoes!: @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @chrissweetheart @certifiedstarrr @slut4chris888

[uhitsum]

youve probably answered this question before, but just how did you do it? im at about 120 now (but very short), i can only dream of reaching 200. Whats the secret (is there one?)

I don't think there is much of a secret, I can't tell you any new hack for gaining that you've never heard before. But I'll gladly share how I did it :)

I started at 120lbs too, which was a bit underweight on my 5'8" frame 😅 I didnt only gain for the kink, but because I felt genuinely unhappy in my body and I wanted to change it. Here's a rough outline of the pace of my gains:

Sept 2022: 120lbs

Jan 2023: 155lbs

June 2023: 180lbs (plateau until October)

Jan 2024: 200lbs (starting this blog shortly after turning 18)

September 2024: 220lbs (I havent stepped on a scale this month, but I know I hit 220 lol. also yay, 2 years of gaining 🥳)

From Sept 2022 to Jan 2023 was probably the most work I've put into gaining, since i had to rewire the metabolism that had kept me skinny all my life. I don't believe in tricks and hacks in fattening up (not that I could get much for myself, I was 16 and couldn't drive) so I did it the old fashioned way. I altered my meal schedule in this sort of way:

7am Breakfast

NEW 10am Brunch snacks (often a Peanut Butter Smoothie)

12pm Lunch snacks

NEW 3pm actual Lunch (usually followed by a food coma)

6pm Dinner

NEW 9pm 2nd Dinner

I probably wasn't hitting all of these meal times every day, but adding more opportunities for me to get my hands on food throughout the day meant i was almost always thinking of my next meal 😅

Besides just eating more often, another area I worked on was eating more at each meal. I would push myself to go back for seconds, or to pair more with whatever I ate at each meal. I adopted a "what could I add" mentality, where I would never eat one thing alone. My favorite example was for breakfast: before, I'd eat a breakfast sandwich, which is a respectable small meal at ~400 calories. When I was in my "gaining prime," I would add a second sandwich, and put tater tots in the air fryer, adding up to 1000+ calories for just a little more work.

While I know this won't be the glamorous answer many people hope for, it's good honest work with results hard to ignore. After you force yourself to overeat for long enough, it becomes impossible to go back to the small and infrequent meals of before — your own appetite is enough to keep up your gaining momentum 🤭

From Sept 2022 to Jan 2023 was when I was working my gut hard to adhere to the schedules, but I loosened up once I upsized my wardrobe a second time and could feel the softness creeping in. My gainer's appetite kept me cruizing until June, gaining an average of 6lbs a month (🥵) when I started work (at a Frozen Custard shop, no less) which kept me on my feet late at night and made me plateau.

It wasn't until October that I would start pushing myself again, on one Very Horny week where I had the house to myself. I binged every single day, including my first experience drinking melted ice cream (cut with Heavy Cream) 😵‍💫 which led into a plateau break as I gained 20lbs in 3 months once again.

2024, despite me making this blog, has been predominantly a cruising year. I started at 200lbs, bigger than I had ever expected to get when I first started, so I mainly just eat a lot when I want to, and don't when I don't. Now that I'm in college, both stress eating and a very loving boyfriend join the mix, so we'll wait and see what these next few years have in store for my waistline 😉

So, that's the long and short of it! If you're looking to gain, I think you have to push yourself, but make sure you're only doing so in ways you can enjoy. Routine is EVERYTHING, with the end goal that you shouldn't have to make conscious decisions to overeat; it should just be a fact of life 😌 I wouldn't personally recommend relying on drinks to fatten up from the very beginning, since those can be easy to get sick of, but they can be valuable tools for plateau breaking in combination with an otherwise gourmand mindset.

Thanks for the ask! And to anyone brave enough to make it through to the end, thank you for reading! I love telling my gainer story, because I like to put it into a more realistic framework than many of the hot and horny stories out there are able to do. As thanks, here's a belly pic just for you! Dont mind the bruises, we just had a little fun yesterday :3

[seriouslysnape]

hello! can i get a severus lazy sunday morning with the reader? 🖤

Severus Snape x Fem! Reader Tags: None. Word Count: 1.1k "You can stay right here. I'll call you when it's ready."

It was the pattering of rain on the roof that initially woke Severus up. It drummed on the house and sprinkled across the windows. The trees outside rustled from the wind that whistled outside. He let out a slow exhale at the sound of the low rumbles of thunder rolling off in the distance.

Three days of solid rain was more than enough, and frankly, he was missing the sunshine. Nonetheless, there wasn't a thing he could do about the weather, so he supposed that griping about it wouldn't do him any good.

After all, it was hard to complain when there was a beautiful woman curled up next to him.

Severus was a bit of a stirrer in the mornings. He wasn't typically one to lounge around in bed, typically getting up and on his feet the moment that his eyes opened. But you, on the other hand, liked to gradually wake up instead of getting a fast start to your day. If there wasn't an immediate reason to get up, then you were more than likely going to stay snuggled in for a little while.

With that being said, he tried to keep his movements to a minimum to avoid waking you. He could bear staying wrapped up in the sheets if it meant you getting some extra rest. He was perfectly content with holding you close and watching the weather rage on outside through the window.

Unfortunately, he couldn't control the volume and intensity of the thunder that accompanied the rain. One booming crack of thunder spooked you awake with a hard flinch and a light gasp. The sudden reaction even made Severus jump a bit, his arms holding you tighter as a gesture of protection.

"It's all right," He nuzzled his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss just above the tip of your ear. "You're safe. It's just a storm."

His morning voice always sent a chill down your back. It was deeper than usual, groggy and sluggish. You relaxed at the sound of it, releasing a relieved sigh when you realized that your house wasn't being attacked by some outside force.

"Mm. Still raining I assume?" Your eyes fluttered closed again in an attempt to slow the hard thumping of your heart.

"Unfortunately." He grumbled, his focus on you instead of the storm.

"It's not all bad. I've had you all to myself for three days straight." You giggled, the sound of your laugh spreading a warmth over his chest.

"Darling, has there ever been a time where you didn't?" He answered.

He pushed some fallen strands of hair out of your eyes, a small smile appearing on his features as he admired your calm expression.

"Generally, no. But sometimes the duties of being a professor steals you away."

He couldn't deny that. Just being a professor could be overly demanding -- adding in being the head of Slytherin and some occasional administrative responsibilities could most definitely dry up the well of his free time.

Before he met you, he spent pretty much every night at the school in his personal chambers. He didn't see the need in traveling home every night (as easy and convenient as it might've been) if he had no real reason to. He spent all of his time at Hogwarts from September to June.

But after meeting you and having the pleasure and blessing of your lives intertwining, he had to learn how to balance his work life and personal life. Now, he traveled home almost every single night, unless he just couldn't get away from his office and/or classroom.

He did everything that he could to ensure that you were his top priority...although, sometimes he still fell short.

"We still have well over a month before the term starts," He remarked. "Plenty of time before my schedule gets overly full."

"What's on your schedule until then?" You asked, eyes opening just enough to peer up at him.

He let out a low chuckle when he kissed your temple, the vibrations running down your side and causing a brief tingle in your toes. He exhaled a satisfied hum when one of your legs settled between his.

"You."

Another roll of thunder rumbled, yet not quite as vigorous this time. You smiled at him, which caused a tint of a blush to appear on his cheek.

"Doesn't sound too busy then." You ran your index finger's knuckle across the apple of his cheek with a feather-like touch.

"Just the way I like it." He smirked.

A round of silence followed. The two of you were just enjoying each other's presence and taking advantage of the fact that you had absolutely nothing to do...not to mention having a great excuse not to come up with something to occupy your time.

The rain was relentless after all. Who in their right mind would want to go out in this kind of weather? It was a perfect setup for a day inside.

There were plenty of things to do around the house. The only problem was that you had already been doing them for three days now.

You could only take a crack at raiding and reading your entire library for so long. The house was spotless and lemony fresh, so cleaning was crossed off your list. You were looking forward to trying a new recipe for dinner, but you assumed that you still had an entire day to get through first.

"What time is it?" You asked, realizing that it could've been noon for all you knew.

Severus raised his head just enough to peek over you to get a glimpse of the alarm clock on the bedside table on your side.

"6:47." He answered.

"Oh, that is so early," You gawked. "I'm too awake to go back to sleep though."

"Shall I make us some breakfast then?" He suggested. "You can stay right here. I'll call you when it's ready."

"Pancakes? Coffee?" You asked, a glittering admiration for the man talking sweet to you shining over your face.

"Of course," He nodded. "Whatever you want, angel."

He peppered kisses across your nose and down your neck, bubbly giggles and squeaks sounding out from your chest. You managed to squeal out an "I love you" through laughter and shrills.

He couldn't understand how someone like you could love him so much. He liked to think that he had done something in his life to deserve some like you. But in reality, he knew that he was just plain lucky.

"I love you," He returned the endearment before whipping the covers off of the bed, ignoring your hiss of disapproval. "Pancakes are on the way."

Once he was on his feet, he pulled the covers back over you, chuckling at the way you shimmied further down with a gleeful whimper. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving to whip up the best stack of pancakes you had ever tasted.

"Enjoy the rain, my love."

[m1ssunderstanding]

Notes on Nowhere Boy

Finally posting the long version of the close-watch I did for @sleeper9's Fete zine. The bad thing about me is I hate spending money and love pirating shitty quality versions of movies. The good thing about the Beatles fandom is we're used to dealing with grainy pics. Anyways, here goes!

The opening ten seconds really do set the tone for the film, and here's why. It's the opening of A Hard Day’s Night where the boys are running from a hoard of screaming fans and George biffs it. John sees him go down, laughs, and keeps running. Only here, it's just John. George’s fall has been erased, making John into a cocky, if slightly insane, little lone hero. 

Mimi: do I ignore you? No. So please don't ignore me. Me: ummm, yeah you do ignore him, Mimi. Enough to leave deep psychological scars. But it's fine. Moving on.

Ugh, Uncle George is so sweet! I wonder how much of John's sweetness he learned from him. I wish we knew more about him.

Actually that was Jim that set up a cord running into Paul's room from the radio downstairs. But it fits Uncle George's character, so it works. 

Why did they make Mendips look a lot more working class than it actually was? No fancy iron fence, no pretty hexagonal outcropping, no stained glass veranda? 

Aaron Taylor Johnson is nailing it though. The laugh sounds very John, and this posture? Perfect. 

Okay but if that doesn't heartbreakingly encapsulate John and Mimi I don't know what does. Uncle George has just died. John goes to Mimi, wraps her from behind in a tight embrace and lets out a sob. Her response is to push him away. “Please, let's not be silly. If you want to do that, go to your room.” Alright, it's making me feel things, it's winning me over. 

John making his cousin Stan go and ask Mimi where Julia is is also extremely accurate. Always had someone to do the dirty work for them, all of them. 

Mimi's concern as John's going to visit his mother in the “bad” part of town is very good to have in too. “And you will be careful, hmm? Careful who you talk to.” And John's response, “it's only Blackpool, Mimi.” It's true. It could've been Speke, or the Dingle. Which Quarryman did I read saying Mimi didn't like John even leaving Woolton?

John's hurt little face when he finds out his mum, all this time, has been less than a bus ride away is a very clever way to show us his painful confusion about the whole situation. 

Trying to remind myself that this is a very anti-Julia pro-Mimi movie that will try to make me think she's crazy. But it sure is doing a hell of a good job. She hasn't seen him in years and suddenly she's hand feeding him desserts, kissing him every chance she's got, flirting all over the place. “Do you know what it means? Rock and Roll? Sex.” “Don't tell Mimi, alright? This is our little secret. Promise me.” And to a poor affection-starved boy, that's going to feel good. That's going to put thoughts in his head like “this is how it should be”. I mean I know she was wild and fun and sexy and irresponsible. And I know John did have weird thoughts about her. But I hope she wasn't actually this crazy. 

But the weird Freudian thing aside, he's got to be so terribly confused hearing the woman who effectively abandoned him declaring her love for him. Between Mimi and Julia, John would've had such a messed up idea of what that word meant. 

The Daily Howl, my absolute beloved!!

Nowhere Boy John watching Elvis: damn I've gotta get the girls screaming for me like that! Actual John watching Elvis: he's so beautiful! He's perfect! I'm in love!

Also I do not think sixteen year old John was that good at fingering. Just saying. 

This part always drops my heart cold into my stomach. Poor John. Poor poor baby. You can hear his little boy voice calling, “mum? It's me.” And she mutters, very annoyed, “go away.” Again. I have to remind myself that this is a purposely negative portrait of Julia. But then. It is true that she was a mostly absent and wholly undependable figure in John's life. 

Sometimes dialogue is absolutely perfect. Like this – “Aw, why couldn't God make me Elvis Presley?” “Cause he was saving you for John Lennon.” “Aw I'll get you back for that, God!” And this – “you haven't told Mimi, have you?” “No point going through her bullocks if I don't have to.” “Why? She has to go through yours.” “Yeah well I never asked her to, did I?”

Ugh this whole movie just hurts so bad! How he looks to Julia as Mimi is ordering him out of her house, just begging her to claim him this time. And she doesn't until he makes a stand for himself. And then, later. “How long can I stay?” Is met with nothing. Not even a fake “long as you want, love.” It really plays into the title of the film. This boy's got nowhere to call home. And then, the final straw. Look at his face as he hears Julia agree that he does in fact need to go back to Mimi's. If I did that kind of thing, I'd actually be crying right now. Fuck, why was I knit-picking, this movie is working so well. 

 As he's announcing he's leaving Julia's, John wants her to tell him to stay. To at least pretend it's not what she wants. And she doesn't even look at him. Imagine if they did something like this in the John biopic mirrored with a scene with Paul in the breakup?

He's just so adorable looking at that guitar like he can't believe it's real.

John's gathered the og Quarrymen in the bathroom and Pete goes “I take it we're not here for a communal crap.” Idk Pete, wouldn't put it past him. It's not far off what you all do already.

It's making the Quarrymen look kinda cool here, and I really want them all to be shit except John, just because that's what I get from Paul's description. Not that he's biased or anything. He could've been watching John play with Elton John and David Bowie and he'd still say everyone faded into the background. 

Also Mimi would Not have been there. Not on her life. 

Okay now we're sort of seeing them from Paul's perspective. Bunch of losers surrounding this inimitable shining star. 

Accurate that the first thing John says to Paul is about jerking off. 

The dynamic in general is just so well-done in this first scene. John instantly testing Paul. How much shit will he put up with? And Paul instantly having none of it, showing off, and winning John over. 

All the other Quarrymen just know it's time to dust off the ole resume. 

But! Paul's fete “audition” is so toned down for this film. Although of course, accounts vary. He did 20 flight rock, yeah. But he also did it on someone's borrowed right hand guitar turned upside down. And he did little Richard and played the piano, and tuned John's guitar for him. In one telling of it, John says he asked him to be in the group right there on the spot. So. Yeah. 

But either way, watching John watch Paul is just gorgeously gay. It's giving extreme “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” It's actually illegal not to queerbate using Lennon/McCartney and I'm glad all moviemakers seem to understand the law.

Cut to “John, your little friend's here!” Can you imagine if they'd showed the “chalk and cheese” whirling dervish moment? Or Mimi making Paul use the back door? Those might change some thoughts and feelings in this movie. 

And then we get the reciprocated “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” Moment as Paul's too busy checking out John’s buddy Holly Look to remember where he is, let alone what cord they're on. And it's so sweet because Paul's the first person who gives John the idea that his real self is actually cooler than his tough-guy act. 

The little matching feet tapping?? Eee it's so cute! 

But why miss the opportunity for them to sing in harmony here?

Sometimes the dialogue is extremely inaccurate. “So mummy’s cool about baby Paul wanting to be Elvis?” “Oh she would've loved it.” Like hell she would've. She would've been as disapproving as Mimi. Then again, maybe it is accurate for Paul to be lying about that.

“Well she – she sort of – died. You know, em. If we're gonna do this we should write our own stuff.” Okay yep there he is. That's Paul. 

Also love how John gets his first calluses after Paul the bossy taskmaster comes into his life. (You know. And the reason to push himself and a person who cares enough to take the time to show him things and it makes John all dreamy staring at the stars that night etc) Anyway. It's perfect. 

And the first gig we see after Paul joins is in a venue on a real stage with a much bigger audience, and the matching suits of course. 

Mimi selling John's guitar because of a bad report card is like the lighter, kinder translation of what happened in reality when she had his dog put down while he was staying at Julia's. 

So they kinda make up for not letting Paul sing etc by having him nail the guitar instead of screw up at this gig like he did irl. 

And he's stealing Julia's attention, which is clearly Not okay with John. Reminds me of that quote of Paul's about how they were both in love with John's mum. 

George is appropriately infantile. Good. Cutie. 

The Quarrymen playing “That's Alright, Mama” as John's making up with Julia since she bought his guitar back for him. Okay. Very clever. 

Paul does Not like John disrespecting his mother after the show for obvious reasons. (“I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.”) But clearly he doesn't have the full picture here. I wonder at what point irl Paul got a full run-down from John on his messed-up family life. Or did he just have to pull it together piece by piece over the years?

And of course he jumps to light Julia's cigarette. Boy was patting his pocket for a lighter like it was the race of his life. Mister steal your mum.

Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, Paul McCartney’s number two complaint about this movie: John was Not taller than him. How dare they? Slander.  

That's one hell of a jacket.

At the party, John's of course pissed to find Paul serenading Julia in the kitchen. But Paul just wants a mommy so bad, John. Why can't you just let him have yours since you clearly don't want her? Right, because you really, really do. More than anyone can understand. But when you showed her that – how bad you wanted her to be your mum, not just a friend – she hurt you. Forced you to go through your abandonment all over again. So now you can't show that anymore. 

The washboard over Pete's head is almost exactly accurate, isn't it? John does not handle people leaving him well. 

Ugh his little voice cracking on the word “mum.” John Lennon is a poor poor baby and I will die on that hill.

I wonder how John did find out about Victoria and the real story of why he was with Mimi. No matter how, though, that's certainly a lot of mess for a young man to be carrying around with him all the time in his head. 

“When your father came back from the merchant Navy, he wanted to try and save the marriage, but your mother would have none of it.” I do feel like we're going with Alf’s version of events here, the one he sold John in order to get into his good graces after he was famous. Which is, again, not fair to Julia. I wonder how little Julia feels about this movie. 

In fact, I think this part –  “who do you wanna be with, John? Do you wanna be with me or do you wanna be with your mum?” – has been categorically disproven. But it certainly does make for some high drama. And John himself did believe his father's story, so there has to be at least some emotional truth there. 

Nowhere Boy John: There's no point in hating someone you love. I mean really love. IRL John: How do you sleep, you cunt?!

There he is. Art School John. Though he fell in love with every iteration of John, I think this one never left his head because he was one of the earliest Johns, and he was a John Paul had to fight for, you know, with all the Stu business and dead mother anger.

He really does an excellent job of playing John, though, when he's written right. “Woman took her kit off and we painted her breasts. Not actually physically. I got my eye on you two.” Ridiculous. Charming. Off- putting. Adorable. 

Ignoring the fact that I prefer to think of “Hello, Little Girl” as being about Paul (“you never seem to see me standing there”) and they're making it about Julia, this is a lovely scene. With John somewhat unsure still of his songwriting abilities and Paul looking up at him from the floor full of admiration. 

Oh he's gonna murder someone. To be fair, I think playing Julia's banjo at her funeral is exactly the type of insensitive thing Paul would do, because he just thinks and feels in music and it makes Sense to him even though of course it's going to piss John off. 

Hilarious, and probably accurate tbh, that Paul's pissed John off so he gives Pete a bloody nose.

But here we go, the number one complaint about this movie from Paul, which I think is actually valid. John never hit him and that was important to both of them and it's disrespectful to portray it and play into the myth of their rocky, angry relationship. 

But maybe in 2009 that's what it took for them to be able to show John Lennon and Paul McCartney in a genuine, loving embrace, crying into each other's necks about mothers. It has to be preceded by John punching Paul in the mouth. 

If I was John's writing partner, my biggest beef with this movie would actually be the scene where they're recording ISOATD and making it look like John wrote it and played the guitar solo. But Paul's never even mentioned it. Which I guess really shows he cares far more about the legacy of his relationship with John than his career legacy. Which. If you mean more to Paul McCartney than his fucking music? Well then you must be just about important enough to have your own movie. 

This is really the Vote for Mimi Smith campaign, isn't it? Putting across the screen the fact that John called Mimi every week until he died as “Mother” plays in the background is brutal. Ouch. But it's true. “It's Mimi time.”

[ranharrafantasy]

Who's Your Pokémon? [Lucario Transformation Story]

Posting transformation content 6 days a week at link in bio.

---

I was afraid of what my boyfriend would think if I came out to him as a furry. Would he break up with me? Would he see me differently? We had been dating for over a year now and I felt like it would be unfair to keep it from him any longer. One night, I mustered up the courage and revealed my secret to him while he was sitting in bed, reading.

He put his book down and pondered for a bit. He didn't look mad, disappointed, or disgusted, which was a good thing, right? He finally broke his thousand-yard stare and smirked, looking directly at me.

"If you're a furry, then what's your fursona?" he asked.

I shifted my feet between themselves and shyly answered, "L-Lucario, the Pokémon."

He smiled at me with a big side-smile, "Well then, Lucario, come here! I've got you set for some intense endurance training," he said, holding his arms out indicating for my embrace.

His acceptance meant the world to me! I ran into his arms without hesitation.

The following few weeks my boyfriend did end up treating me different, but in a good way. He would only refer to me as 'Lucario' both in and out of the bedroom. He would also pet me while we laid on the couch watching movies. And every instance of 'thank you' was replaced with 'good boy'.

I had never felt more free to be myself or like my fursona. I was happy with my decision to come out to him and I thought that this would be all that would ever come out of it. My boyfriend, however, had different things in mind.

"Oh, Lucario! I've got a surprise for you!" my boyfriend called to me from the front door, just arriving home.

I was in the living room playing videogames but promptly paused in anticipation of him. He didn't waste any time. He came right into the living room, still wearing his shoes. He was carrying a package that must have come in the mail. He was smiling fiercely while he fumbled to rip through the tape on the package. With some struggling and a lot of man-handling, he finally got the box open but turned his body to hide the contents from my view.

I craned my head trying to get a glimpse of his what he was hiding, but he stopped me by pointing his finger in my face.

"Not so fast. First, you've got to sit on the floor like a good boy," he said.

While being treated like a dog every part of the day wasn't my intention of telling him I was a furry, I still played along so I could be shown what the surprise was. That and, I was just glad he was supporting my furriness rather than antagonizing it.

I got down on the floor on my knees and put my hands in my lap, patiently waiting the surprise.

"Good boy," he said, and opened what sounded like a can of soda from behind his back, "now close your eyes and open wide!"

Again, I did as commanded. He's never done this kind of thing before, so I had no litmus test to gauge if he was pranking me or genuinely giving me a surprise I'd like. I closed my eyes and dropped my jaw open. He didn't waste any time and put the cool metal of the can to my lips and poured the contents into my mouth.

The liquid fizzled on my tongue as if it were filled with electricity. It was definitely an energy drink of some kind. I also couldn't quite place the taste. Blue raspberry maybe? Cherry? The taste was fine, but I didn't understand what the big deal about it was. I wasn't a huge fan of energy drinks and the taste was muted.

"So, how do you feel?" he asked me with an eagerness.

I opened my eyes, "fine, I guess? I'm not going to lie, energy drinks aren't my favorite," I answered.

He looked at the can disappointingly, "damn, must be a hoax… Oh well, guess it was worth the try… Maybe you need to drink all of it!?" he finished, pushing the metal can back towards my face.

I recoiled away, "what's supposed to happen?" I asked, concerned. I paused, "Wait, why do I feel like my insides are tickling?"

My boyfriend gasped and pointed at my face. The smile that had just vanished returned with new found vigor, "Yes! Dude! It's working!"

I grabbed my face, still concerned with whatever the heck my boyfriend just recklessly put inside me. I rubbed my hands against my face. That's weird, I just shaved this morning? Why did it feel like I had a full beard now? And why did it feel so soft. By reflex I looked down even though I knew I wouldn't be able to see my own face. While I didn't see what was growing on my jawline, something else caught my eye.

Thick black fur had appeared on both of my hands. I held them up to my face to better examine what was happening but it was cut short by a sharp pain in my chest.

I gripped my white shirt at the middle and my changing hand collided with a sharp object that seemed to be emerging from my body. I winced in the pain but kept my hand there to apply pressure to the area that was causing me pain. Whatever it was, it was growing, bigger? It pushed against the confines of my shirt until the fabric couldn't take it anymore and split with an intense ripping sound.

Down the corners of my eyes I could start seeing a blue tint of the hair emerging from my face. I gasped in excitement.

"That's right, Lucario!" my boyfriend said, "you're turning into a real Lucario! You're welcome!"

My boyfriend smugly crossed his arms, turned his head, closed his eyes, and put his chin up waiting for gratitude, knowing that he just gave me the thing I had wanted most in life. He opened one eye to continue watching me, I assume to see my transformation proceed.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, looking frantically over my morphing body, "this-, this is awesome! This is the nicest thing anyone's ever gotten for me. Where did you-, how did you-, is this real?"

My legs shifted beneath my weight, turning into strong digitigrade Lucario legs. My fur swiftly ran down my body and my mouth pushed out to be a thin canine muzzle and my nose turned black. My jaw was starting to hurt from smiling so much. It was happening! I was really turning going to be a Lucario!

Soon, the last bit of my exposed skin faded away into a fur covered isolation, no longer kissed by the sun pouring through the window behind me. I could no longer feel my body shift or tingle. It was done! I was a Lucario now!

"Do you like your gift?" my boyfriend asked, prying for more gratitude.

"Yes! This-, this is amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you! A million times, thank you!"

I couldn't contain myself and pushed up from my knees to kiss him. He reciprocated immediately and it wasn't until a few seconds into the kiss that this must have been weird for him.

While he was supportive of my pet play and me being a furry, he himself wasn't a furry, so was being Lucario going to be a turn off for him? My muzzle fur scratched against his slight stubble and we continued for a few more seconds until I pulled away.

I shyly hesitated, trying to articulate the thoughts that had just ran through my head, "Uh, sorry I just immediately kissed you, I shouldn't have assumed you'd want to kiss me while I look like this…" my eyes trailed off to the side and I looked down, "I know that you're not a furry, so kissing me must have been weird. I understand if you don't want to do it anymore… or other things."

"Hey, hey!" he started and redirected my head by placing a finger under my muzzle, "of course I still want to kiss you! I love you, and always will no matter what you look like. I was the one who did this to you, remember?"

I tried to hide the tears that had welled up in my eyes. One drop spilled down and vanished in my new fur, "Thanks, Shay, I love you too."

We stayed silent, taking in the moment and looking into each other's eyes. He still had his hand on my face and rubbed my fur with his thumb. I still couldn't get over it. My life would be forever changed. For the better obviously, but would I still be able to work? Were others going to end up like me? Would I be able to use moves like real Pokemon do? I laid my thoughts to rest and refocused on Shay's smile. His loving smile was all I needed in this moment.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, finally breaking the long pause, "There's a part two to your gift."

He turned and reached behind him and pulled out a red collar with a dog tag on it. He presented it to my and held it outward where I could see there was something engraved on the collar. It read, 'To the best friend a guy could ask for, Lucario.'

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to," Shay said sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

I grabbed the collar and held it up to my neck, turning around and pressing my back toward him. I held my hands still with the two ends of the collar out waiting for him to grab them.

"Of course I have to accept!" I started, "I'm your Pokemon, now. I'll do whatever you say."

He took the two ends of the collar and clipped the together, letting the collar rest on my neck. I turned back around stood up.

Shay did the same and I looked up at him. He, being two inches taller. He grabbed my waist and leaned in, initiating another long and passionate kiss.

"I love you, Lucario," he uttered in a brief pause.

The importance of his words were present in the room as our showcase of passion continued, being warmed by the rays of the evening sun.

[emeraldotter]

2024 art summary! Some detailed thoughts and considerations on another year of drawing every day under the cut.

I feel like I had some big improvements with backgrounds and color choices. I like painting backgrounds; they're probably my favorite things to paint. I pushed myself on figure drawing more, too, but framing and posing has never come naturally to me. I made the plunge into drawing predominantly on single layer and just treating most digital paintings like I'm using acrylics. I think it's led to some more fluidity in my art, though it's definitely had its associated growing pains. It's so hard not to make things look muddy, but that's a problem I've always had with acrylics as well.

I admit, I'm very embarrassed by what I have to show this year and a lot that has to do with the subjects I painted. I'm trying very hard to push back against that negativity, though. Deku's a comforting character to me, so drawing him always makes me feel better. I should allow that sort of outlet for myself, I think. I feel better for it, anyways. Plus, the MHA manga had such talented people illustrating for it and its art evolution really inspired me—there's so much expressiveness there, and I love hands! MHA is the hand manga, haha.

I've also noticed that I get really nervous that people will think my art is bad if I post it online, so I've been interrogating that. I've definitely posted more duds than good stuff over the years, but I'm not a natural or talented artist. I'm just a guy who draws! And that's okay, I think. Not every athlete is meant for the world championships. But then I think: Do I think this way when I see other people's art? And the answer is no. I'm always happy to see art. I'm always happy to see people making art. I'm much more focused on the subject of the art, on how it makes me feel, than if it's "good enough." What does that even mean? Obviously, there are objective skill sets associated with drawing and painting, but it's a sliding scale of competency. I don't think it's as black and white as "good" and "bad" so much as "well developed" and "less developed." And art on both ends of that spectrum have spoken to me enormously over the years.

It's hard, sometimes, to make art that feels fulfilling or pushes you when you have a running daily queue. I've been doing this for over a decade. Kind of crazy, right? Whenever I draw something, I think, "Can I post this? Is this postable?" I've tried to move away from that. Making a lot of hours-long paintings that I don't show anybody has helped that, maybe. All the same, every time I'm working on a painting that isn't a commission or for this blog, I can't help but think, "You're using up your body's stamina and your limited time to make something that can't be used. You're going to have to set aside even more time to work on usable art." I've done a lot to push aside that guilt. If I can't paint for myself, then painting serves nothing for me. I already work a pretty demanding job; I cannot have everything I do turn into survival. Hobbies are so important.

Another thing that happened is that I got really into learning how to seriously make stickers, this year! I bought a printer on sale and everything. I hand-cut each sticker and apply a protective layer over it, usually with a holographic effect. Who doesn't love holographic stickers?

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

Hello! I’m here again lol, but this time i come bearing a question:

so, in the chapter where Freelancer introduced Vincent to Gavin, you mentioned that you see Gav’s whole story as a trans metaphor, I would love to hear more about that because I think that’s such a cool, and beautiful take and I would love to know more, be it why you came to see his story that way, or head canons, etc!

Hope you’re having a good day/ night/ evening!

Byeeeeeee

-🌃

Oh my goodness!! I love this headcanon so much and I can’t wait to talk about it!!

Okay SO!! I myself am a trans man and I have always found Gavin’s story, both in canon and in this AU to be a trans metaphor. I think it comes back to self invention and self actualization for me.

When he was Vindemeator, Gavin spent every moment of his life being told who he was and who he could be. He was an incubus, only an incubus, and that made very certain things about him inherently true. It meant that he could only be certain things, and when he attempted to define himself outside of those decided stereotypes, he was shunned and rejected by his community.

When you're born a woman, you spend every moment of your life being told who you are and who you can be. You're a woman, only a woman, and that makes very certain things about you inherently true. It means that you can only be certain things, and when you attempt to define yourself outside of those decided stereotypes, you get shunned and rejected by your community.

Do you see where I'm going here?

I think being trans has a certain shape shifting vibe to it too, changing the shape of yourself until you find the truth. That is very Gavin's vibe. I think it can also link back to his refusal to change his shape: Gavin as trans man finding his truth and refusing to compromise it for anyone, for any reason.

Gavin did what I and so many other people did: instead of staying in that narrow box, he pushed out of it. He decided "Oh, you have a preconceived notion of who I have to be? Fuck you. I'm not playing that game anymore." He chose a new name!! It's so trans. It's the most trans thing I've ever seen in non-textual trans media.

I couldn't imagine communicating his story accurately in a non-magical setting while depicting him as a cis man. It might not have been the original intention when his character was first written, but it strikes those chords so seamlessly that you could have fucking fooled me. Gavin as a trans metaphor is so important to me and I will continue to push my agenda.

[thoughtcascades]

Who do you think you are that makes it so difficult?

I don't even know half the time. I feel like I'm just this walking contradiction wrapped in a hundred layers of "what the hell am I doing? Do you ever feel like you're just… too much and not enough at the same time? That's me. On the one hand, I worry too much about the smallest things - like, someone could say the tiniest thing about me and I'll be in a spiral for days wondering what they really meant. On the other hand, I'm cold as hell. I just shut down when things get too hard, like a switch, because letting people in feels like giving them a knife and hoping they don't stab me with it. And they usually do, so can you blame me? I don't know, I'm at war with myself all the time. I've got this whole sarcastic "I don't give a shit" front that I put up. If I act like nothing is bothering me, then no one will try to dig deeper. But to be honest, everything gets to me. People, expectations, the whole damn world - it's all too loud, and I'm stuck trying to filter through the noise while everyone else just passes by like it's no big deal. And when you feel like the world is already against you, the last thing you want to do is give people the manual to your weaknesses.

What makes me so difficult? Hell, it's probably the fact that I overthink every little thing. I dissect every conversation, every look, every silence. I read between lines that probably aren't there, and then I build walls because I think everyone's out to get me. It's exhausting - for me and for everyone else, but it's hard to stop when your brain is wired that way. When you've been let down so many times, you start to think it's the default setting for life. So yeah, maybe I'm difficult because I don't trust easily, or because I have this need to be perfect and in control all the time. I think I'm also difficult because I'm not afraid to call people on their bullshit, even though I hate conflict. It's weird, but I can't just sit there and let people walk all over me. I don't care if it makes things uncomfortable or if they think I'm being dramatic - like, if you're being fake, I'll see it and I'll say something. And that pisses people off because nobody likes to be told they're not as good as they think they are. But at the same time I can't take criticism myself, so maybe I'm just a hypocrite. Or maybe I'm just afraid of being wrong, because being wrong feels like failing, and failing feels like proving everyone who doubted me right. I guess I'm difficult because I'm a mess of insecurities hiding behind this mask of confidence and cynicism. I want people to care about me, but I don't want to let them get close enough to actually do it. I want to be understood, but I make it impossible for anyone to really know me. I want to be easy to love, but I don't even like myself half the time, so how could anyone else? And maybe I push people away before they can get too close because deep down I'm just scared they'll see all the ugly parts of me and decide I'm not worth it.

[dayntee]

So I finished Veilguard a while back, and of course I have thoughts. I'm sure none of them are original and have been plenty stated, but hey, we all need to mourn a game when we're done with it for better or worse, so here's mine.

Note: I wrote and queued this before I was aware of the layoffs at Bioware today. This is, in no way, meant to rub salt in the wound or point fingers. If anything, I'm gutted for the people who poured their heart into this game only to be found jobless today. I'm in the exact same position myself, and have nothing but empathy for the situation. To spoil what's below - I enjoyed my time with Veilguard. It could have been better, and if you're a dev that worked on it, you probably know that. I'm sorry it's turned out the way it has, but thank you for the experience regardless. It was a fun game.

Spoilers after the break, obviously. Be aware there will be discourse, but I'm not here specifically to bash. If anything, I'm actually still grateful for the experience.

Overall, I did enjoy my time with Veilguard. After all, my final save file was around the 85 hour mark, so clearly I had no issues continuing to sink time into the game. I itched to play when I wasn't, and I got my Solavellan ending I've been waiting 10 years for, and I damn near 100%'d the whole thing (including getting the hidden cinematic after the credits). So what went wrong? What did I not like? Why do I feel so… empty now that it's over?

If I were to summarize my issues and feelings with Veilguard, it's that it felt like it gave just enough to be passable content, but never committed to being a truly exemplary experience. In every way, from system design to companion design to overarching story to itemization, everything is fine… but not great.

Knowing that DAV went through development hell contextualizes a lot of these issues. If the art book is to be believed, the project had two full blown restart buttons pushed and many leadership handoffs. I've been in conversations, though, where folks ask "Why on earth could DA2 pull off a great storytelling experience, but DAV couldn't?"

There's something else at play, and after my own experiences in the game industry and squinting between the lines to try to glean what I think may have gone wrong, I have a hunch. Pure speculation ahead: I don't think leadership ever fully agreed on a committed vision.

The broad strokes are there, and they are strong:

The Lighthouse is a cool fucking hub. It grows with your group, responds to their needs, and shapes itself around you as you experience the world. The concept of this is dope AF.

The goal is closure on all the questions left unanswered after DAI. It does get to most of these, even if not as fully and as satisfying as some of us lore nerds would have liked.

Combat is fluid and pretty engaging (at least at first). It's simple, fun, and generally fulfills power fantasies well (for context, I specialized as a full Veil Jumper Archery Rogue).

WE GET TO EXPLORE NORTHERN THEDAS. This is so cool and a place we've all wanted to go for ages. TEVINTER. NEVARRA. WEISSHAUPT. All exciting prospects.

Level design and map design are pretty A+, imo. Landscapes and set dressings are beautiful and artfully crafted. Even if there are aspects of the visual design you disagree with, they committed to it and fulfilled it well.

Exploration is fun. I rarely hunt down every chest in a game. I could not stop treasure hunting for the life of me, and some of those hidden treasures felt really special and rewarding to uncover.

The cast of characters and factions you interact with are interesting and very different - from one another and from previous casts. It's nice to see some new tropes that either haven't been used or have been out of rotation for a while.

Solas is a good antagonist. He was before, and he still is, and biased Solasmancing aside - I always looked forward to the breaks in the game where I got to banter with the Egg.

Voice over cast is fantastic. I know some folks were less fond of non-British/American accents, but honestly, I was very fine with it. It reinforced that this part of Thedas, and this time in the overall storyline, is new and different. Thedas is changing, and so are its people.

All these things said - every single positive I have above feels like they were baseline requirements for a AAA Bioware RPG. That they don't go above and beyond these bare minimums is where the game feels like it fails, especially as a payoff for a critically acclaimed entry that's 10 years old and has a passionately dedicated fanbase.

A phrase I've been using a lot with folks is that DAV feels like the Lacroix of Dragon Age games. It's got the branding, it looks like Dragon Age, and it kind of tastes like Dragon Age, but… just barely. It leaves you feeling like it's lacking. It's a hint of it, and going back to drink it again doesn't quite satisfy you.

What we call this in game development is minimum viable product (MVP), which is usually trotted out at the point by production and/or leadership when you realize you've meandered on the project for so long that you just gotta ship something. This works if you're actually going to commit to polishing it up and continuing to make it better after launch for a live service game; fix it later is fine when that's a reasonable expectation.

But Veilguard walked back on that concept. It no longer was going to be live service, but a one-and-done, and the final, late pivot meant it just had less time to cook in its final form and likely a ton of wasted work that got chucked out. There are so many places where the experience feels like an alpha or beta version of what they actually wanted to do. The Lighthouse and Companions as a whole both exemplify this; they feel and look cool, but the experience of both are shallow and underdeveloped. They felt like they were missing something.

The most egregious issues, in my opinion, in no particular order:

Apologies in advance if they're your favorite, but Rook is probably the worst protagonist we've ever been given. Not because their concept is inherently bad, but because I couldn't really make them mine. Rook has no arc, makes few decisions that truly matter, and no moral conundrums barring maybe the Treviso/Minrathous decision. Even then—it feels like there's a right answer to that decision.

To explain: Minrathous gets fucked at the end of the game anyway. If you pick to save Minrathous, you've just doomed two metropolis level cities to excessive death and destruction AND locked yourself out of a potential romance option for no particular reason.

Rook's actions in Thedas also matter the least. The end state of the game is the same no matter what: the Evanuris fall, and the Veil is preserved. How you do it is largely immaterial. In every other game entry, shit can seriously go sideways and it's always directly because of your decisions.

Companion arcs are largely shallow and so reliant on Rook, they fail to feel real. Some of these arcs are more egregious in this manner than others, and some of them have truly excellent stories to tell (oh, hi there Emmrich). But even with the best arcs, this person asks you to make utterly life-altering decisions for them and you've probably known them for like a month or two at best. It just doesn't feel like I, as the PC, have the right to make that call, or that I've earned it. There's not enough time nor enough high stakes prior to those moment.

I won't beat this one to death, but the limited amount of previous choices not mattering in this entry hurts, and I know how complicated it would have been to explore all of them. That said, there were a few that had a ton of specific investment that deserved better resolution: Kieran in particular would have mattered so fucking much if he existed as canon. I understand that's the crux of the problem, but it makes it so that if he was part of your world state in both DAO and DAI, his absence is all the more noticeable.

The South being destroyed off-screen through text will never not bother me. The Inquisitor is apparently faffing about doing fuck all with the resources they've built over time, especially if they chose not to disband the Inquisition. They didn't chase after Solas, who they knew was going to be a problem, and then they ALSO let the South fall? I'm sorry - it does a hero that the majority of this fandom is most likely heavily invested in the worst service no matter which way you look at it.

Veilguard feels like a game that couldn't get out of its own way. The part that has me grieving the most is that you can see under the surface a great game was there, but just not fully realized.

Without being one of the people who made the game, we can only speculate and can't presume the cause for why we got what we did. Hell, as someone who works in game development, sometimes you never get the answer yourself as to why things went so horribly sideways. The larger the game and studio, the more blind spots you're likely going to have on the overall project.  That said, I have nothing but empathy for the Veilguard team. It's very clear that at least the majority of folks working on it poured in a ton of work and cared a lot about it.

It's not my place to blame anyone in particular for it, because I don't have the first-hand knowledge necessary to cast that judgement. I hope the folks who worked on this don't let it get them too down; you still made a fun game. And I'm sure you're just as disappointed it wasn't the love letter to Dragon Age that you probably wanted it to be, as much as any of us fans who feel it didn't meet the bar.

You had an impossible job to do; the expectations here were so high, and you had more obstacles than any dev team should reasonably have during their project, regardless of the expected fires we all run into during development. Despite that, I still had fun, and I still care quite a bit about these characters.

That's worth something. Thank you for the experience.

[deepinthegroves]

for the ask game!!!

🍒 cherry cola . . . when you think of them, what is the first song or lyric that sparkles into your mind? why does this remind you of them or your relationship?

🧃 apple juice . . . how does your s/o make your inner child feel safe? what qualities about them make you feel free to be goofy, silly, frustrated, or vulnerable?

🍨 affogato . . . how does your s/o show love? does their love language align with one of the traditional 5 types, or is it something unique to them? do they have a special way of making you feel appreciated?

(I'm very excited to read theseeeeududuud)

thanks for asking <33 (i'm very excited to answer these daigiodgkgn)

answering for my spiderverse dr...

🍒 cherry cola . . . when you think of them, what is the first song or lyric that sparkles into your mind? why does this remind you of them or your relationship?

i think it'd be "talk slow, I've been listening all night/ and your words they sound so right" from Talk Slow by Chase Atlantic. i have a lot of songs that i love that remind me of hobie but they're more of songs that i listen(ed) to while obsessed with hobie, rather than a song about him.

i chose these lyrics mostly because i can listen to him talk all day and never get bored. yes, hobes, tell me all about the corrupt government and how you'd overthrow them. tell me about how the corporations suck and are basically sucking money from people without care. tell me all about everything you care about and i will listen and i will learn and i will agree. tell me all about yourself and your beliefs and the things you like and i'll listen, i'll listen and remember them forever.

🧃 apple juice . . . how does your s/o make your inner child feel safe? what qualities about them make you feel free to be goofy, silly, frustrated, or vulnerable?

i was a... ill tempered child, i suppose. i don't get social norms very well, and being enrolled in a kindergarten with those who are around my social standing meant that there was no adoration, only peers ready to criticise your every move and tear you down. they'd pick on me, rip at the things i love, and push me to the edge till i snap. and when i snap, and god forbid i snapped, they'd act as if i was the bad guy, and alienate me. it was something my family couldn't help with, and i had to grit my teeth and bear it. (i have had similar cr experiences and i think it shaped who i am so i'm keeping it but changing things a lil)

with hobie, i know i can just be myself. i know he won't judge me, nor make snide remarks just because i was a little too passionate about my interests, or go on long rants about things i hate. with him, i am given space to be myself, and i know that i am accepted as myself, that i don't have to change a thing and he'd love me.

not only that, if i ever lose my temper and go off on him, he wouldn't be disgusted nor push me away. of course, he'd call me out, i need that, but he'd be nice after too, allowing us to set up a space where we'll communicate our problems and resolve the issue.

🍨 affogato . . . how does your s/o show love? does their love language align with one of the traditional 5 types, or is it something unique to them? do they have a special way of making you feel appreciated?

i think he's a mishmash of all. he does exhibit more of some love languages than others, but he does all of them.

words of affirmation – he does this less, mostly because i prefer to experience love via touch, but he'd give me compliments from time to time, whether it's that he loves my outfit, or that my music was good. i eat it up everytime, beaming at him.

acts of service – he helps out with whatever he can, even if i don't necessarily need him there. if i'm cooking lunch, even if it's a simple meal, he's helping me prepare things in advance, just to make the process go smoother. if i need to turn on the bluetooth on my speaker but it's across the room, he volunteers to do it for me, so i can just stay where i am and connect it to my phone once he's done.

giving gifts – he loves to give gifts, especially those he made by himself. one of the sweetest things he has done was to replace all the broken tech left behind by peter – i'm not an expert with tech so i couldn't fix them – but in a way that adds his touch to it rather than making a completely new one. he knows how much i treasure the tech, and the fact that it's the last few things peter made for me, and he puts in extra effort to not overshadow that and i love him for it. but other than that, some other gifts are random keychains crocheted by himself, a blanket he made by himself, and a vest that he diy-ed (since i was always stealing his, he said).

quality time – we hang out a lot, and sometimes we just do whatever. i just enjoy spending time with him, and i think he enjoys spending time with me too, so we'd just swing around the city or (illegally) sit on rooftops and talk.

physical touch – this is my love language and he knows it. this will be in my dr intro post too but even before we got together, he understands that sometimes i need physical affection for comfort and he just lets me. i'd lay my head on his shoulder after a long day and he lets me stay for as long as i need to, and if he notices i'm nervous or in need of comfort, he'd reach out and squeeze my hands a little. obviously this would amplify more once we're in a relationship but yeah. i think he does it because a. he does enjoy it and b. he knows it's my love language.

[baddieladdie]

♡ Companion Shorts ♡

Fallout companions react to depressed vault dweller

Rating: Teen Charon ➼ Arcade Gannon ➼ Hancock ➼ Nick Valentine ➼ Deacon

Charon [FO3]

"What are you doing?" Charon grumbled from behind you, annoyed at the sudden stop in broad daylight. The view was nice from this vantage point, but it also meant they were in clear view of any hidden antagonists.

The burden of your loneliness beckons you to the ground. You fall to your knees, though the weight off your legs does nothing for heaviness in your spirit.

Why? You didn't know why.

Perhaps you had been too optimistic. Believed so wrongly that you could bring change to the wasteland. Or at least bring some minor degree of improvement. It was futile, all along. The wasteland was ever hungry, taking everything it was given and reducing it to rubbish. Even with the few good deeds done, the Talon company just kept sending mercenaries to kill you for the very slight of fighting the good fight. No good deed goes unpunished, right?

You look down the chasm below, half-hearted imagining your mutilated body on the rocks. Would even your death make a difference? Or would it just be one more life taken by the wastes?

"Hey," A familiar firm hand gripped your shoulder, "It's not safe here."

Tension swelled up in your sinuses as you shrugged his hand off. You clenched your hands together, digging your nails into the palm of your hand. The subtle pain was refreshing against the agony in your mind.

Charon was a victim even before the bombs fell; a constant reminder that humanity was corrupt well before apocalypse. Perhaps you really weren't so separated from the innate evil nature in the human spirit. You relied on Charon in nearly every fire fight. Taking advantage of his experience and strength through a contract you knew was akin to slavery. He obeyed every command, helped with every request. Never questioning you for a moment and always risking his life. You felt sickened on your reliance on that bloody contract. You should be finding a way to free him, and yet....where would that leave you? Dead? And what future what that be? Dead now or just dead later...

Charon grumbled as he sat beside you on the chasm's edge. He had seen ages pass, experienced more agony than he could ever be bothered to explain. For some employers, he'd leave them to their devices. But you? You are one of the few bastards crazy enough to help others selflessly in the wasteland. Even if wasteland was utterly indifferent to your efforts, it certainly be a darker place without the hope you brought others with each intentional good dead. Their very existence showed a brighter side of humanity that was a rarity in dark times.

"Tell me what troubles you," Charon's familiar gravelly voice was laced with an unfamiliar tone of... genuine concern?

"I just," You sigh heavily. "I don't know how much longer I can keep going on like this."

"I've wondered the same thing myself." Charon nodded with an empty stare.

You felt a pang of guilt at the possibility of bringing up painful memories for him.

Charon continued hesitantly. "I feel I must remind you; I am honor bound to keep you safe. From threats and, if necessary, from yourself"

"I don't want t-"

Before you can finish your thought, Charon scoops you up into his arms and walks you away from the ledge. "You need to be more careful," He complained. "You won't make a difference out here if you're dead."

He carries on walking through the awkward silence. "We passed a shelter not far from here. We could rest until you feel ready to continue again. We could uh, listen to that radio broadcast you like you so much."

"Maybe play game?" you tease.

"Don't push your luck, kid."

-Charon carries you to the shelter where he watches over you diligently until the worst of your depression episode passes-

Arcade [FNV]

You stare blankly at the ceiling above. Small particles of dust lazily hung in the air of the abandoned cabin you and Arcade took shelter in a few days ago. You really should leading the charge back out into the Mojave, but you simply couldn't find the energy to do so. Therefore, you simply rested.

Arcade knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response you couldn't be bothered to provide.

"Alright, guess I'm just going to let myself in then. I'll give you to the count of three," Arcade raised his voice from behind the wooden slat door. "You better be decent by then." you head him mumble.

Arcade cracked open the door, peering around to see your still body in the same position as when he gave you a mug of coffee hours before.

"In another one of our spells, are we?" His sarcasm brought you little comfort.

"Sorry. I just lose my heads sometimes," you sigh with a heavy heart.

"If by 'sometimes' you mean 'a lot of times', I agree. Please just....go easy on yourself, okay?"

You nodded, the vague emptiness you felt threatening to swallow you whole. Taking everything with it 'til you couldn't feel nothing at all.

"This is worse than before, isn't it?" Arcade pulled up a chair next to you. It creaked under his weight as he sat down. "Was it something I said?"

You shook your head. "No, nothing like that. I'm just....tired, Arcade. I'm fine, really." You gave a meager fake smile, hoping to appease the kindly doctor.

"Mmhm," Arcade paused for a beat. "Is that all?"

You could have sworn you were just tired, but now that you think about it, there were some troubles on your mind. Arcade waited patiently for you to open him to him about it. He did enjoy lengthy conversations more than most and always had his opinions ready.

"Ready to get back out there?"

"All right, let's not waste any time!" Arcade rested his doctor's bag on a shoulder, the enthusiasm in his voice giving away his excitement. "There are people out there to help, things to learn. Maybe not in that order, but let's get to it!"

Hancock [FO4]

Hancock chuckled, lounging on the couch next to you in the old state house. "I don't buy that shit for a minute." He shook his head, "No way, you can't fool me, sister/brother." He casually rested his hand on your thigh, immediately drawing your attention to him. "It hasn't been easy transition ya, has it?"

Your eyes began to water as Hancock looked you over with care. He nodded slowly with genuine understanding, "I didn't think so. No one should have to go through what you've been through." He gave your hand a little squeeze. "Ya always give me hope for brighter future. Cause I get to have you in my life." He smiled, "Cause the odds, it's practically impossible our paths would ever meet. I mean, you're pre-war, baby. The freshest smoothskin around and you wanna be a drugged out, dragged out ghoul?! That's how I know all that karma shit is bull, 'cause there is no way someone like you could ever end up with me."

You granted him a half-smile with the compliment. But the mayor didn't quite seem to grasp yet that you had burdens, very real and unconventionally heavy emotional baggage. Not that there was a trauma competition in nuclear wasteland, but you would have at least won a medal in most-fucked psyche. Your smooth nature stopped at skin level.

"It's been a Hell of road that brought us together, but aren't I glad I took up with you? 'Cause this person," Hancock paused, waiting patiently until you returned his gaze before continuing, " - the one I'm looking at right now. They're the one I love. I don't want to be without them ever again."

You wince slightly, his words a little too sweet. "You sure about this, Hancock? I mean, with everything I've been through...." You sigh heavily, your chest falling. "People are going to talk, Mayor" You give him a sly look, knowing how he enjoyed the occasional call to his title.

"Can't say I care much about what others think. Half the opinions out there aren't worth listening to anyway. The only opinion I care about, is yours." He grinned.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Are you sure?" "You kidding me? So long as I got you at my side, it doesn't matter the capacity. I'm with you all the way, rain or shine" "You're a damn fine man, Hancock. I'm lucky to have you at my back." "And God help any of 'em who get in our way."

Nick Valentine [FO4]

"In my line of work, you usually see folks at their worst. I can tell there's something troubling you. You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." You grumble. You swirled with antagonistic emotions, unable to tell where one pain started and the other ended. Guess that's just what happens after you go through one too many impossible tragedies. Losing the love of your life and child alone was unimaginable. Your years of service in the U.S. army gave you the 'gift' of surviving the nuclear attacks that transformed your home and country to a primitive wasteland. You've always tried to make the best decisions possible for your family. But if you hadn't signed up for Vault 101, would you have died peacefully alongside your love? Would that have been better? You stared into your hands, agonizing over the conversation you had with the Vault-tec sales rep.

"Not enough people out here are willing to try and do what's right. I consider myself awful lucky I fell in with one who is," Nick paused, the smoke from his cigarette seeping from the metal cracks in his feature. He glanced around the Boston shore, checking for any ne'er-do-wells. But the coast was clear, perhaps due to their combat efforts earlier that day. He cleared his throat, and continued with some insistence, "If there is something bothering you, I'd like to be the one to help lighten the load. I happen to know a thing or two about find yourself after losing the life you thought you had."

"Thanks, Nick," You snap out of momentarily. The Boston harbor air was foul. You couldn't escape the reality you were in, no matter how you tried. The smells, the sounds, the food - none of it was familiar. "I'll be fine. I just don't sleep well." That wasn't much of a lie. Whenever you try to sleep, the memory of your love screaming your name returned. Their blood painting the inside of their frozen coffin while you watched helpless from inside your own. When you eventually fell asleep, the unfamiliar sounds of gunfire, screams of terror from the wasteland, and shouts of mutants would wake you. It was all just too much.

"I think it's time we take a break from the case, friend."

"What?!" You jump up from the bench, "We can't stop now! Not with the progress we've made!"

Nick flinched in surprise, but quickly settled to a concerned frown. "You haven't been yourself lately. We-," Nick sighed, committing to genuine honesty as he often did. "Partner, I need you at your best to solve this case. Come on, let's go back to the agency. I'll review the case files and you get some rest."

You look away, anger and guilt fuming within you. "I don't feel much like resting, Nick. I want to finish this."

Nick let your words marinate in the pregnant silence. "Is that what you want? To 'finish' this?" He gripped a metal hand your shoulder and looked down into your eyes. "I understand, you must feel angry. You have every right to be. But hurting others won't bring them back."

You simply couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears of grief, rage, and pain streamed hotly down your face, pooling at the apex of your chin. Nick pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back as you cried into his signature detective trench coat.

"I'm sorry, friend. Truly."

Deacon [FO4]

You take a long drag off your cigarette, savoring that ever-so-familiar lightheadedness. The weather was shit, as it always was in Boston. Cloudy, and damp. You wrapped your cloak a little tighter around yourself, but it didn't do you much good. The bitter cold you felt reached deeper than your bones and left you frozen to your core. Just an icy fraction of the vibrant person you were before. Before you lost everything you had fought for, everything that had mattered to you. It all was gone. And along with it, any reason to carry on.

You exhaled slowly, watching your frozen breath drift aimlessly away from your cracked lips. Deacon watched quietly from aside, nursing a chilled Nuka-cola. He cleared his throat awkwardly. Genuine words never did come easily to him. Deacon had always found it more comfortable to flirtatiously avoid the truth. Kept him safe from every getting hurt....and ever making close friends. Deacon, being a loner himself, recognized the loneliness you dwelled in.

"I know what I feels like to wear a mask. That kind of protection only ambiguity can give you. But really - are you feeling okay? Cause you can talk to me"

"Another one of your little lies?" You sigh, tapping the ash off the butt of your cigarette.

"No, not this time," Deacon kept an uncharacteristically straight face

You pause, stirred by the sincerity present in Deacon's voice. He loved the way lies could crack your usual composure. You watch his expression carefully, checking for any usual hint of his usual mischievous nature. But all that saw on his face was genuine concern for a companion he cared deeply about.

"Well, look who's acting out of character now," you tease. "Thanks, Deacon. I appreciate that. And I'll be fine. It just, uh...." you take in a deep breath. "It takes time, building up this new life. Making these new memories. Building these new relationships. Just sometimes, I uh, miss my old life. My old friends. Sometimes I see something, and I just know my spouse would have loved to see it."

"I know. But we'll stop the Insititute. For them."

"Right," You nod, filled with determination. "For them."

To.Be.Continued...

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hiii hi! hello! uhm. could you please consider writing a Tyler Joseph x male!reader? a mixture of fluff and angst, a hurt/comfort if you will, reader is having a very bad mental health day and Tyler improvises a song to sing for him. think the "don't be anxious Josh" song he sang during the qna Livestream. if not it's alright but I thought to ask anyway! sorry if this sounds too similar to past requests you've received, I hope it's alright ^^ have a wonderful day!!

Panic - Tyler Joseph x GN!Reader

Warnings: Panic attack and mental health struggles

Word Count: 1553

A/N: HEYYY I've combined a few requests into this one piece and made it gender neutral so everyone can enjoy it :) I'm going to respond to each inbox message so everyone can see it but hopefully this is good :)

I’d been feeling it for days, this weight pressing down on me like an invisible hand. I kept brushing it off, forcing myself through the routine motions. I was fine, I told myself, over and over again. I was strong. Strong enough to push through. That's what I did.

But tonight, it all felt like too much.

The knock at my door barely registered at first. When I opened it, Tyler stood there, smiling as if it was just a regular night in. He had a bag of takeout, his other hand deep in his pocket.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for me to invite him. His eyes lingered on me for a beat too long, and I looked away, trying to shake off the ache that had settled into my bones.

“Hey,” I muttered, forcing a smile. “I forgot you were coming over.”

Tyler’s smile faltered for just a second. “Good thing I didn’t forget,” he said, glancing around. He set the takeout on the table, pausing to look at me again. “You okay?”

I nodded, maybe too quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, just… a long day, I guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “You look… more than just tired,” he said carefully, watching my reaction. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I meant. “Just… rough day, like I said.”

Tyler watched me in silence, his gaze soft but probing. He didn’t push, but I could feel his eyes on me as I sat down on the couch, drawing my knees to my chest. He settled beside me, and for a while, we picked at the food without talking.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly after a while. “You seem… I don’t know, different. I can tell something’s off.”

I shook my head, feeling my chest tighten. “I’m fine. Just a little… overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” he said, scooting a little closer. “You don’t have to act like everything’s okay. Not with me.”

I swallowed, my throat tight as I looked away, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.”

Tyler leaned forward, searching my face. “Maybe it’s not nothing, though. If it feels like a big deal to you, then it’s not nothing.”

I tried to shake it off, forcing a laugh. “You don’t want to hear about my stupid problems.”

“Actually, yeah, I do,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I care about you. So I want to know what’s going on.”

That simple truth nearly undid me. I felt my pulse quicken, my breaths coming shallow and quick. The panic that had been simmering all week flared up, and suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in. I tried to stand, but my legs felt weak.

“Hey, hey,” Tyler said quickly, reaching out to steady me. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

I shook my head, barely able to get a word out. “I… I don’t know. I just… I feel like I can’t breathe.”

He was beside me in an instant, taking my hands in his. “Okay, try to focus on me,” he said gently. “Look at me and breathe. Let’s do it together, okay?”

I nodded, though my chest felt tight, every breath shallow and quick. He inhaled slowly, exaggerating the motion so I could see, and I tried to match him, feeling the tension in my lungs ease just slightly. Tyler’s hand stayed wrapped around mine, his thumb moving in slow circles over my knuckles.

“You’re doing great,” he said softly, his voice like a quiet anchor. “Just keep breathing with me.”

After a few minutes, the tightness began to ease, and I managed to take a fuller breath. My grip on his hand loosened, and I could finally meet his gaze, the worry in his eyes softened by relief.

“Sorry,” I whispered, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He shook his head, squeezing my hand. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re just dealing with a lot. It happens. But you don’t have to apologize for it.”

I felt my throat tighten again, the shame creeping in. “I just… I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn’t want to… I don’t know, be a burden.”

“A burden?” Tyler’s voice was soft but firm, his eyes holding mine. “You’re not a burden. Not now, not ever. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly brushed it away, trying to keep the dam from breaking. “I feel like I should be able to handle this. Like I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t need anyone.”

Tyler shook his head, his hand never leaving mine. “Needing someone doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

I let out a shaky breath, feeling my defenses start to crumble. “But I’m supposed to be strong,” I whispered. “I don’t want to… I don’t want you to see me like this.”

His thumb brushed over my knuckles, his voice gentle but insistent. “But I want to see you like this, because this is part of you. I care about all of you, not just the parts you think are ‘strong.’”

I looked away, feeling the tears starting to fall in earnest now. “I just… I don’t know how to… I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Tyler nodded, his hand moving to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Then don’t explain. Just… let me be here. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

I nodded, the last of my resistance finally crumbling. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, and I let myself sink into his embrace, the weight of everything I’d been carrying finally spilling over. The sobs came in waves, and he held me through all of it, his hand moving in soothing circles on my back, his voice a quiet whisper of comfort.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. “I’ve got you.”

For a while, I just let myself cry, the tears falling freely as he held me. He didn’t say anything more, didn’t try to fix it. He just stayed there, letting me let it all out. And slowly, the storm inside me began to calm, the sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles.

“Sorry,” I whispered again, my voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to… to fall apart like that.”

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look at me. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re allowed to feel this way. You’re allowed to fall apart.”

I managed a small, watery smile, and he returned it, his own smile gentle and warm. “You’re too nice to me,” I mumbled, feeling a faint blush rise to my cheeks.

He chuckled, his hand moving to squeeze mine. “Well, maybe you deserve someone to be nice to you. And hey, it makes me happy, so really, I’m just being selfish.”

A laugh escaped me, soft but genuine. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Glad I could make you smile,” he said, his own smile widening. Then, as if on impulse, he started humming, a soft, wordless tune that felt strangely familiar. He caught my eye, a playful glint in his gaze as he began to make up lyrics.

“Don’t be anxious, Y/N… I’ll be here till the end…” he sang softly, his voice light and comforting. “Even if you cry… even if you sigh…”

I let out a real laugh this time, shaking my head. “Please tell me you’re not going to make this a full song.”

“Hey, if it makes you laugh, I might,” he teased, his grin widening. “And if I do, you have to sing it with me.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “No way. I’m not singing that song.”

He nudged me playfully, his eyes twinkling. “Fine, but you’re stuck with me singing it to you, then.”

“Fine,” I said, laughing despite myself. “But you’re not recording it.”

He mimed disappointment. “There goes my big break as a songwriter.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was warmth in my chest now, a lightness I hadn’t felt in days. “Thank you, Ty,” I said quietly. “For… for being here. For not letting me… you know, push you away.”

“Always,” he said, his voice softening. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re important to me. I’m here whenever you need me, okay?”

I nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude I couldn’t quite put into words. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered, feeling my chest tighten again, but this time with something softer, something that felt a lot like hope.

“You’d probably keep being amazing and strong, just like you are now,” he said, his voice warm. “But maybe you don’t have to do it all alone.”

I looked at him, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I guess… maybe I don’t.”

Tyler smiled, his hand finding mine once more. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, as his hand held mine and his presence surrounded me like a warm blanket, I believed him.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[lovelyhan]

SVT HARD HOUR

Maybe a SVT member and their partner are in a relationship where the rest of the members (and the world) thinks the SVT member is the lead in the relationship but in reality their partner is.

Like it’s really important for him to be seen as the lead so she let’s him be seen as it.

Partner is normally really relaxed about the teasing but one day he takes it too far where she whispered that if he keeps this up, he not gonna like where it’s heading.

He keeps pushing so the members learn who is really the lead.

Hahaha this was a lot more detailed then what I meant. I don’t really have a member in mind. I am gonna be happy with whoever you choose.

Sooo, have fun writing ✍️

@hwanghyunjinenthusiast also asked: Because I love you <3 Also going to try to switch it up lol.

Consider edging Mingyu. You know he'd get all whiney and desperately try to buck his hips up into you when you stay completely still on top of him. Massive hands needily grabbing at your hips. In an attempt to steady himself or encourage you to move, you're not sure.

It'd be so cute how teary-eyed he'd be. His big cock twitching inside of you incessantly but, he'd try his best to hold on. Because he wants to be good for you.

NEEDY — MINGYU

surprise surprise <3 i'm sifting through my inbox for old requests that have been gathering dust since may!! i've been missing mingyu a lot these days so here's a quick drabble :3c

tags: f!reader, sub!mingyu, smut (MINORS DNI)

"is it really such a big deal for you to be the one that calls the shots, gyu?"

a whine is caught in the back of your boyfriend's throat as you drag your finger across the swell of his adam's apple, pinning him in place with a disgruntled stare.

mingyu knows he's been a little...over the top today — making a show of bossing you around just to fool his friends into thinking he's the one that runs this relationship, or whatever bullshit patriarchal nonsense he's got brewing inside his head. normally, you would've played along with his need to be seen as anyone but the big pouty man-puppy he actually is.

however, after making a snide comment that made every one of the boys stare at you warily as if waiting for a violent reaction, you decide that you've had enough of mingyu's big scary dom roleplay.

"i'm better off making dinner for you in the kitchen, huh?" you narrow your eyes, forcing mingyu's chin up as you clench around his aching cock. "now what made you think that, gyu? did you really mean what you said? because i'll be really upset if you did."

"n-no, baby, i was just fooling around," mingyu pleads, large hands digging into your hips as he forces himself not to buck up into the warmth of your cunt. "you know the guys tease me enough as it is, so i was just trying to —"

"be a sexist little shit to your girlfriend?" you finish the rest of the sentence with a disappointed huff. "i know you were just trying to get the guys off your back, but i expected more from you, gyu.

"after all, we both know just how needy you are when i'm the one calling the shots."

he sniffles, tears glistening in his eyes. it's almost adorable. "i'm sorry, baby, i —"

the noise that rumbles in his chest is caught between a groan and a whimper when you lift yourself up on his lap before slamming back down with more force than you typically do. despite the frustration rolling off of you in waves, your boyfriend's big cock still does the job in stemming your irritation from his earlier antics, and with how eager mingyu is to be good for you, you suppose you can forgive him.

that doesn't mean you'll make things any easier for him though.

"if you're really sorry, you'll sit there like a good boy while i get myself off," you coo before establishing a languid pace — riding your boyfriend as you press your foreheads together while you drill every word into his head. "my puppy can do something as simple as that, right?"

"yes. i promise — i promise i'll be good," mingyu mewls adorably, the muscles of his thighs tensing from the sheer effort he's exerting to stay still. "f-fuck, your pussy's so warm, baby."

"i didn't give you permission to start running your mouth, now did i?"

it's hard to miss how his cock twitches inside you — clearly enjoying the way you put him in his place no matter how much he tells his friends otherwise. you simper before leaning down to nip at his lobe, purposely moaning into his ear as you repeatedly slam your hips back down on his.

"i'd tell you that your huge cock is all you're good for but i won't. you know why, gyu?" you whisper as you try not to lose yourself to the delicious stretch of his girth. "that's because i fucking love you. so i suggest — ah, fuck — for you to choose your words carefully next time. got it, puppy?"

despite sounding more and more breathless with each passing second, mingyu thinks it's hot that you're lecturing him while you fuck him into incoherence. he decides then and there that he doesn't give a shit if his friends find out how submissive he actually is — both in the bedroom and your relationship in general.

your big, beefy boyfriend is powerless against you after all.

"'m so close," mingyu sighs as you start kissing down his neck, nimble fingers gliding across his nipples for added stimulus. "wanna cum inside you, baby... can i?"

you don't respond right away — too caught up in chasing after your own pleasure to give him another thought. but mingyu doesn't mind because fuck. you look so sexy like this, tits bouncing with every downward stroke as his big cock batters your cunt.

but just when he's about to feel his orgasm boil over, you lift yourself off your boyfriend's cock. this earns you a desperate whine in protest from mingyu which you promptly shut up by tipping him backwards, forcing him flat on his back before positioning your sopping pussy over his face.

"you think you deserve it after that stunt you pulled?" you chuckle darkly, delighting in the way mingyu's big arms automatically wrap themselves around your thighs to hold you in place. "make me come on your face first, puppy. then i'll think about whether or not i want you to finish inside me tonight."

you'll let him. you'll always let him.

but the fun thing about being with mingyu is that he never really backs down from a challenge.