Did Victor and Yakov realise they caught Yuuri during a panic attack in the end? If the ISU tells them what exactly the medication was for I can't help but wonder if Victor's next thought was that they inadvertently caused or worsened a panic attack in Yuuri (and this being Victor I could see him trying to find information about the medications, anxiety and panic attacks). The resulting guilt would have been... Aouch. :'( Someone save these two from themselves, they're their own worst enemies.
I know you probably have like 10000 other questions to answer and if this is spoilery you can ignore it but… after Yakov and Viktor find out it was anxiety pills did they realize why Yuuri reacted the way he did? (getting an panic attack/runing away) OMG.. if that true I can’t wait to read Viktor connecting the dots and is like ‘I just caused the love of my life a panic attack and now he can’t skate djcishcjdjdjcsjxks FUCK’
Once Viktor and Yakov learnt they were wrong about the pills, did they realize they just caught Yuuri in the middle of an anxiety attack and that they unintentionally made it worse? And that was the true reason Yuuri didn’t immediately defend himself and ran away instead? How did that make them feel afterwards? Especially Yakov?
I’ll just answer these three asks together for ease. Once they found out that Yuuri has anxiety they realised why Yuuri ran rather than defend himself and why he reacted so badly to the confrontation and acted so guiltily even though he wasn’t. And they both realised what a huge mistake they had made
Dying didn’t hurt as much as he expected it to, and he made it to Heaven, as far as he could tell, since his beautiful Mama was there waiting for him.
“William,” she said. “You did so good. I’m so proud of you.”
“Not as good as you, Mama.”
She blushed in response but William was surprised to hear a booming laugh in response, the kind of laugh that was so big the person was almost surprised to hear it.
There was a man in a goatee that belonged in the ‘90s wearing a green shirt from decades before that. William could tell from his eyes that he smiled a lot.
The man extended his hand. “Thank you for your kind words earlier, and for taking care of our boy.”
William accepted the handshake. “He really is something, that Randall.”
“Come over here, I wanna show you something.” William was led over to a table with something resembling a photo album. “These are all the memories I have of Randall. I figured you might wanna know a little more about your son when he was younger. He used to really love puzzles because he loved the challenge of trying to put all the pieces together to make a picture. For his seventh birthday we got him a 5000 piece puzzle of a rocket ship because he was really interested in space - he’s just so smart - and-”
“Jack,” William interrupted. “I cannot thank you enough for your adopting Randall and making him part of your family and nurturing him and cultivating his mind-”
“The thing is that I didn’t really have to do much, since he was so independent and all, so willing to take care of other people. But that’s our son.”
William smiled. “Yes. That’s our son.”
In honour of dorianmance week: did any of the ingame romance scenes play out vastly different in your headcanon? What did you love most about Dorian's romance path and when did Fael fall in love with him?
Hi! Thanks for the ask :D (and it’s still Day 2 somewhere in the world so~)
(spamming again one of @razildor‘s screens because yes)
♦ ~ So let’s see, one scene that played somewhat different from canon was the first kiss one, after speaking with Dorian’s father. I’m not going to say more right now because I’ll hopefully finish a comic about it soon! Apart from that one, none of the dialogue paths go very differently in my hc, but I applied some tweaks here and there. Ah! But there’s that one. One that I am particularly attached to is Fael’s response in the cutscene after the Temple of Mythal. In game you get the options between asking him to stay or supporting him to go, but in my headcanon I prefer a mix of the two. Dorian telling him he’s considering leaving is a cold shower to Fael. At that point in the story he’s barely holding himself together with everything that happens (Adamant, nightmares, the final battle coming near, not to mention the whole “becoming a vessel for the well of sorrow thing and meeting Mythal that looks like a human woman”) and Dorian is, admittedly, an anchor (ha) to him. He basically panicks when Dorian tells him that (which for Fael means blank stare and putting emotional distance now now now). That’s why his first response after Dorian refuses his offer to go with him is to plead “I need you by my side”.
But soon he steels himself, actually registers what Dorian had said, and realizes that to stop him would be the hugest hypocrisy of his life. Still, he’s a selfish man, and he wants to lay down all the cards he can to make the situation clear, to make the real importance of their relationship clear. So he tells Dorian that no, he’s not emotionally blackmailing him, and if that’s what Dorian truly wants then he will support his cause however he can. But he does ask him to think more about it. Dorian does. And eventually decides that what they have is not a fleeting thing that he can shrug off like everything else, and tells him his decision not during the afterbattle party, but the day after :)
(on a sidenote: I feel that the fact you get to choose what Dorian will do in his life in game isn’t very good. I think a system of approval points that would eventually decide if Dorian stays or not would have been nicer)
♦ ~ oH BOY WHAT A QUESTION. Well, I absolutely loved the feeling of healing that the whole romance has. For Dorian of course, but also for Fael. Funnily enough, since it’s Dorian who claims he is inspired by the Inquisitor, Dorian himself inspires Fael to be a better person, and to face certain unsolved things of his past. Then it’s so…sweet. Sweet but not overly so, not the mushy mushy chocolate and flowers sweet of other romance. I loved the feeling of quiet love, a growing feeling that doesn’t necessarily need big words. And of course, the adorable old-married-couple banter they tend to have ♥ Then, and this is something that is admittedly strictly related to Fael being an elf mage, I love how their lovestory doesn’t affect only themselves. They’re both going to leave a mark on their world, hopefully change it by the core, and that makes them one hell of a story-driven power couple, which is a thing that I adore. Plus, I think having an elf lover would really prompt Dorian to do a 180° turn on his views on slavery and general treatment of the elves in Tevinter, and possibly put the “end slavery thing” on top of his to-do list.
♦ ~ There wasn’t really a moment you know? Fael was totally head over the heels for him since like, the beginning, but he recognized that as a simple crush for an handsome and exceptionally talented man. “Crush” that grew and grew with every little and big thing they shared alongh the path. Until calling him ma vhenan became as natural as breathing, and Fael realizes that he wouldn’t give up on them for anything unless it meant hurting him. Then you have those little moment of realization in a random moment like “Oh, so that what it was”
i used to be proud to be asexual, then my partner broke up with me because of it... now i dont know if i still wanna be asexual... i dont know what to do
This is an understandable feeling rooted in loss. It makes you feel like you have less value if your ex doesn’t value you the way you want, or the way they once did. Of course, this isn’t true. Your worth doesn’t change based on who sees it. But I think it’s okay to be hurt by this, just remember you want a relationship with someone who loves and respects you for who you are. Tell yourself this when you forget, it won’t instantly fix heartbreak but your pride will likely come back even stronger.
I think your art style is getting better compared to your first examples! Your artwork and storytelling in general still needs a lot of work, but I can see you getting there eventually. You should work on drawing with real references more; some of your characters, expressions, poses and scene descriptions in general seem as if "memorized" from similar almost cliched works. Also your English is getting much better (it's not my first language either), maybe you might go back to correct old comics?
You got the point about the “memorized” scene, for sometimes now I did felt that I stumbled upon what’s so call “Artist block” because see, eventually everyone who work in this area will suffer from it. I did stopped drawing for a while, asking friend for ideas, learn from books, but after that I ACTUALLY STOP DRAWING lol thats the worst. So I just said “Fuck it, I will draw pass the artist block, just draw more it will somehow be better … probably”
About the drawing with reference, I will decline. I want to preserve this style of mine no matter what, and sometimes drawing realistic is only a matter of taste to reader. I will try hard to improve my drawing skill better, but my strong point is not drawing, but telling story. I use drawing to tell you a story, not the other day, so to have style is very important. Even years from now after reading my story with such art style you will remember my style so much one day you came across it, you will know that is me. When I came back with comic since last years and made a debut, some of my old fans know that is me right away (lol it was worst at that time! how can they recognize it)
About English, I’m unconciously more careful when doing the comic, because yeah I want it to be as good as possible. For previous work Im not sure, because I think no hope no fear doesnt have that many mistakes? The older work I just dont have one me so new work is already burdened me already so sorry.
It’s big bang time, which means I can finally post a link to my newest (and complete for once!) Tuckington fic, “The Nightmare Solution.”
Featuring temporary cohabitation, fake exorcisms, copious self-help
books, and David Washington slowly losing control of his life.
@powerfulpomegranate did the wonderful art for this, which means you are in for a feast for the eyes, and I absolutely guarantee that you will love what you see. Please send Becky all the love and kudos in the world, seriously.
Also, I want to give my appreciate to the mods for all the hard work they did in putting the big bang together. I am in awe of their organizational skills, and frankly, it’s amazing to have something to do and look forward to in the off season. Much love!
Anyway, I hope that you enjoy the fic.
Thanks for reading if you do!
What made you decide to read only gay books? Did you just get tired of reading books not catered to you? I'm interested because I'm also always looking for good gay representation books but also I love reading historical fiction. Also I'm currently studying to be a book editor at my Uni so I'm always wanting to hear peoples' opinions on books and certain genres!
I got tired of reading only straight literature and not seeing myself in any of the books I read. I found myself being unable to relate to straight characters in the way I can relate to gay characters. Being gay is just such a big part of my identity that, when it’s not part of the characters’ identities too, I just don’t have the same emotional connection.
Gay historical fiction is quite a big genre, once you start digging! A lot of it has master and slave dynamics, which I’m not too morally keen on, but there is quite a bit of other stuff too. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller about Achilles and Patroclus, Seidman by James Erich about two boys in Viking-era Iceland, and The Bisley Boy by Chris Hunt about the conspiracy theory that Queen Elizabeth I was actually a man are all good. I’m also currently reading The Prince’s Psalm by Eric Shaw Quinn about the relationship between David and Jonathan.
Nick Valentine: “Anything you’d like to know about me?”
Me *grabs notebook*: “do you see the world like I do or do you see 0′s and 1′d like a terminator? You mention having heat sensors and a geiger counter - do you see them like a power armour display or do you have dials somewhere? How do you smell things? Can you taste? You mention being programmed to feel pain, how does that work when you miss parts? What do you run on? Are you solar powered or do you burn fuel? when you “run stuff through the processor” what are you actually doing? how did you find out you had a built in dog whistle? How do you and irma know each other? How did you and Ellie meet? You don’t sleep but you have been knocked unconscious in the past, how does that work? What happened at the quarry with Lily June on the rocks? Why did you hire Marty? What did Vladim’s moonshine do to you? what IS the difference between a robot and a synth?
After the disaster of the first holo-deck training session, Shiro figured that starting out by individually coaching the paladins through the invisible maze would go smoother. So one at a time, he sends them all through. Pidge stands behind him and watches over his shoulder as Shiro tries to guide Lance through for what feels like the four hundredth time. …Things aren’t going so well.
“This is a trust building exercise!” Lance complains. “I trust you! Can we just pretend I did it?” Shiro closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Pidge grabs the com link from him. “Keith got through the whole thing in four minutes and thirty nine seconds,” she tells him. “And now he’s in the kitchen with hunk. Eating cookies.”
Shiro can see Lance shrivel a bit below them, and turns to Pidge in pale shades of annoyance.
“I don’t think that’s going to—“ he begins, but Lance’s voice interrupts him. “Four minutes and thirty nine seconds?” “Yeah,” Pidge replies, inspecting her nails.
Lance beats his time by two point three seconds, and Pidge pats Shiro on the shoulder in a you’re-welcome kind of way. “Spite is a powerful motivator,” she says, before wandering off in the direction of the kitchen.
She doesn’t admit that she loves him. Not aloud anyway.
She ignores the warnings on Omega, when her heart sings at the sight of him–when, for the briefest of moments, it seems as if everything is right in the galaxy. She almost hugs him, almost falls to pieces in the arms of her old friend. But Cerberus is watching, and she cannot let them see.
She denies it on the Normandy, when she stalks outside the med bay for hours. Miranda is incessant, but Shepard doesn’t want to give her answers, doesn’t want to explain how she did what was necessary to get him off that station in time to save his life. You lied to me about him, she accuses, with more anger than she intends, so I don’t owe you anything.
She keeps denying it through Sidonis and the Collector Base and all the stolen moments in between. She knows the line between friend and more has long since blurred, but she can’t quite figure out when she lost track of it. She can’t determine the precise moment when her harmless attempts to make him blush became intentional flirting became–whatever it is she feels the night he comes to her cabin.
She tries not to question it when she grabs his omnitool as he sleeps. She has run through every possible strategy for their attack on the Collector Base, every way she can keep him at her side. Every plan fails except the one where he leads the second fire team, but the thought–the nightmare–of them separating drives her to distraction. Their comms could be cut, he might not reach the rendezvous point, they might have to leave when he’s nowhere to be found. She cannot stop running through every horrific possibility, and so in those final twilight hours, she links his omnitool to hers. She gives him full access to her most jealously guarded possession, so that she can track his biometrics and geolocation. Mission be damned, she will not leave him behind.
She doesn’t know where that falls on the line between “just friends” and more, but it is decidedly Not Casual. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised, though. As she nervously teased him the night before, she is nothing if not intense. She has never once managed to do anything casually. Never really wanted to try.
She hopes he understood her hints.
Menae changes everything. She hasn’t heard from him in six months. She nearly gives up hope of ever seeing him when she sees the state of Palaven. But there he is, standing tall on that besieged moon, and the sight of him, alive and in command, fills her with unexpected pride and admiration. She wants to embrace him, to tell him all of the fears she’s kept inside for the past half year. But just like Omega, there are too many eyes. So instead, she shakes his hand. It’s proper and it’s formal, and rattles her in a way that makes her start to question whether this Not Casual thing she feels is actually Love. She wonders, and she fears, whether he feels the same.
The answer, of course, is obvious–when she finally pays attention. He never actually says he loves her. Not aloud at least. But he tells her every day.
He tells her when she arrives at the war room only to discover that the petulant diplomats have resolved their unnecessary disputes. He tells her when she enters her cabin well past zero dark thirty, exhausted and frayed, only to see that her mountains of paperwork have been completed in triplicate. He tells her when she finds herself in bed, boots removed, though she’s certain she fell asleep at her desk over a pile of work. And he tells her when, despite the galaxy crumbling around them, he still finds a way to make her laugh.
He tells her in all the perfect ways only he can, and sometimes she hates it. She hates that she should find something that makes her so happy while so many others suffer. She hates that they found each other in the midst of all this chaos. She hates that she sometimes wonders if they could be happy together without all the carnage.
But then he takes her to the Citadel on the most perfect date, and she’s tired of denying herself the things she feels.
Reapers be damned, she’ll steal whatever slivers of happiness they can find. “I love you, Garrus Vakarian,” she admits, to herself and to him. She knows it’s a long time coming, and the truth floods her with relief.
But he doesn’t return the sentiment. He mentions something about Joker’s vids, and she knows he’s flustered. He stutters, like he did when she first mentioned blowing off steam, and she realizes he thinks she’s still just trying to make him blush.
She doesn’t say it again.
The words are not enough, and she’s not sure what is. She obsesses over the question, keeps a mental list of a thousand ways to tell him, but she lacks the subvocals to convince him of the depth of her feeling. He deserves perfect, and she can never give that to him. So she says nothing. She doesn’t want to screw it up again.
But of all the perfect things they have–friendship, trust, respect–time is not one of them. It never has been.
And before she knows it, he is injured and he cannot go on. His mandibles flare in desperation when he realizes she intends to leave him behind, and some quiet part of her whispers that this might be her last chance.
“I love you, Garrus Vakarian,” she says, and she knows it’s not enough. “And I always will.”
She catches the droop of his jaw, the frighteningly short moment in which he realizes she’s never been joking, and she melts at his response. She takes his armored hand in hers and, for a second, she is tempted to bask in this final captured moment. This sliver of time they stole from the chaos around them.
All too quickly, the screech of Reaper fire and the chattering of husks shatters that stolen moment. It’s not enough.
She can’t remember drawing her weapon, but the sounds of the Reaper forces fueled something selfish inside her, and it powers her forward.
They deserves more than stolen moments in a firefight.
He deserves more than two hastily spoken I Love Yous, only one of which he believes.
There may not be a perfect way to say it, but he deserves to hear her try. A thousand times and maybe more.
She leaves a trail of carnage, a scattering of husks and Marauders in her wake, and as she reloads her heat sink, still drunk on fury and selfishness, she promises herself that this is the last moment she will allow the Reapers to take. The rest will be hers, to cherish and enjoy. She will make the time to tell him that she loves him in each of the thousand ways she imagined.
And may the galaxy have mercy on the poor soul who tries to stop her.
To say Connor Rhoades was nervous would be an understatement and a half.
He stalked around the square for fifteen minutes straight until Elijah finally arrived, and only then did he finally sit down on one of the benches near the plinth. Elijah was oddly quiet, his eyes bright and darting about like dragonflies in the spring; only the tenor of Connor’s voice seemed to focus his attention.
“We need to talk.”
Elijah, blinking serenely, only nodded.
“You’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why. You’re scared of something, I can see it, but I don’t know what it is.”
Elijah fidgeted nervously, his movements small but frantic. “Not scared, just… nervous. I’m sorry.” He turned his face away as though he was ashamed, and Connor frowned, taking hold of his wrist. Elijah immediately jerked away.
“What the hell are you sorry for?”
By now Elijah’s hands had resumed their clenching and releasing. Connor had never thought much of the little tic before, but now it only grated on his nerves.
“For being… me? For not being what you want, or what you deserve, for not giving you what you should be given, for not being able to… to be with you in…”
Connor squinted. What? What the hell was Elijah talking about? He said nothing, letting Elijah babble on and trying to place his jumbled words in order to make sense of some of it.
“…there’s no future with me. I can’t move forward, there’s a wall I’ve hit and I can’t. I can’t move past it. I can’t give you anything.” Clench and release. Connor took both of Elijah’s hands in his own and smoothed those long, pale fingers against his palms.
“Bullshit,” he snarled, the sound so frightening that it somehow managed to startle Elijah into silence. “Give me nothing? You’ve already given me more than enough, Apples, whether you believe it or not. I don’t give two shits if you can’t move forward, ‘cus if I can’t help you do it then I’ll just stay right here. And what kinds of things aren’t you giving me? It’s ridiculous.”
Elijah flushed up to his ears, unable to meet Connor’s eyes. “Everyone… they’re moving. They’re moving and we’re staying. I saw… some of them are married, some are even talking about having kids. They… they do things we don’t do and it’s all my fault.”
That was when it clicked.
Elijah Applegate had always been apart from emotion. The two had never really intermingled apart from very singular occasions, so the extent to which he was affected by all of this made Connor particularly concerned.
“You’re worried because we don’t have sex? Or because we’re not married? You’re worried about that?”
In reply, Elijah nodded glumly, and much to his surprise Connor burst out laughing.
“That’s it?! I thought there was something serious going on! Jeez, Apples, don’t scare me like that!”
As Connor laughed, Elijah sat there like a stunned mullet, staring wide-eyed at his boyfriend, not at all understanding what had just happened. When Connor eventually calmed down, he ruffled Elijah’s hair and pulled him in so close their foreheads touched. “Listen to me, Applegate. We don’t need any of that stuff to be happy, but if you want to give it a shot then I’m all for it.”
“Um…” Elijah was blushing again, a pretty pink crawling up over his cheeks. “Maybe we could go home and… try?”
if i killed myself these ppl wouldn’t feel sorry or bad about everything they had said/did to me and that’s really gross to think about haha i really don’t know how anyone could possibly hate me so much seeings though i’ve spent the past 3 years of my life keeping to myself and trying not to inconvenience literally anyone even my family but i guess this is what i deserve ? goodnight gamers have a nice day/night love you all .