#Telling myself I have food at home and to stop scrolling reddit and got get more sleep and to call my friends | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skrltwtch · 3 years

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Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

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I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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purplesurveys · 5 years

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440

Looks and Personality

What do you look like? I tick all the marks of a Filipina - kinda tiny, black eyes, morena, flat nose. I’m on the slender side, have thick, wavy hair that gets frizzy when it’s hot, and huge thighs when I sit down.

How often do you bathe? I don’t really have a constant schedule. I take a bath everyday when I have school; I could take a bath everyday especially during summer; but I can also opt to do it every other day when I feel lazy/when it’s colder.

How do you wear your hair? Down, low ponytail, high ponytail, or in a bun depending on what I’m wearing.

What colours do you tend to wear? Black, white, and any muted shade. I have very little color in my wardrobe.

Do you have any tattoos? What, where and why? Nope. I had always wanted to have a ton until I realized I was scared of needles.

What kind of clothes do you wear? My style is a mix of classy and trendy, so I’ll wear little black dresses with flats but I can also sometimes wear a simple top with culottes or long dresses paired with sneakers. Idk, depends on my mood for the day really.

What kind of jewelery do you wear? I’ve stopped wearing jewelry. The two necklaces Gab got me already broke and I haven’t had them replaced with any new ones. Not a fan of rings and I don’t really have bracelets.

Is there anything else you often wear? I’m not too picky with what I put on. My must-have is just a black hairtie on my wrist.

Would you say you had a “look”? Yeah I think so. I’ve molded my style to make it akin to Audrey Hepburn’s, who’s like my biggest idol eveeeeerrrrrrrrr.

When going out, do you dress up or down? Depends on what period of the sem I’m in. I’ll definitely dress up at the start because I want to look good in front of new profs and classmates lmao. But by the end of the sem when all the deadlines are piling up, I’ll go to class in the same shorts I wear at home, a hoodie with nothing inside, and NOT CARE.

What do you wear to bed at home? The thinnest clothes I could find, because it gets really hot. Tank top and shorts will do, but sometimes I’d opt for a tank top and just underwear.

What do you wear to bed when you’re somewhere else? I cover up of course. I’d switch up the tank for a t-shirt, but still keep the shorts.

Is there a place you keep any prized/secret things whilst you’re away? No. That place is my room already.

What’s your favourite food? Either pizza, curry, or sushi. I’m a sucker for all variations of the three.

What’s your favourite drink? Iced caramel macchiato is always so refreshing. OH and I FINALLY recently found out how I like my coffee! Hshssksh Kate poured me a cup of coffee last week and her mix was SO good omg it was 2 packets of cream, 1 packet of sugar, and it can take or leave milk. I’m so excited about this because I never learned how to make coffee that wasn’t just the instant one that does all the work for me. Now I finally feel like a grown-up hahahahaha

What’s your favourite dessert? Chewy chocolate chip cookies, macarons, cheesecake, and souffles.

What’s your favourite type of food (e.g Mexican)? Indian and Korean. Japanese is a runner-up.

Do you have any mental problems? Yes. I don’t have the time, the money, and the courage to get myself checked and so I just try to get by and get better everyday.

Do you have any phobias? What? Why do you think you have this/them? Cockroaches, needles, and roller coasters. Cockroaches are fucking ugly and we had a lot of them (flying ones!) in our old house; needles are sharp and they hurt; and as for the last one, I generally get bad motion sickness but the whole phobia thing got worse when I had a particularly bad experience on a roller coaster in Singapore.

Why might somebody dislike you? I’m super nice but I’m not denying that I can snap whether it’s warranted or not. I come off a little strongly and it might rub people off the wrong way.

What skill do you possess that you are most proud of? Seeing things through. Like if I want something to work, I do it and I make it work. I hate failure and I like looking like I get a lot of work done.

What is your greatest strength (e.g. honest, loyal, brave)? Loyalty.

What’s your greatest shortcoming or flaw (e.g. cowardly, alcoholic)? My competitiveness can make me a coward. Like I will back out of things as soon as I can detect that I can possibly lose or fail.

Who do you most admire? I don’t really admire anyone.

Who do you most love? Animals.

What three things do you look for most in a partner? I don’t like boxing people into just three standards...I do take a liking to people who kind of stand out from the rest, are intelligent, and have the same stances as I do.

Do you like crowds? Depends on the type. I only like crowds I’m comfortable with, like a concert crowd.

What are your hobbies? Trying out new food.

If you can’t get to sleep in the middle of the night, what do you do? I’ll watch YouTube videos or scroll through Reddit. Knocks me out instantly.

What is your favourite animal? Dogs, cows, elephants, or pigs. Can’t really choose.

What is your favourite colour? Pink.

If you could ask God (to athiests - IF there was one) one question, what? Why’d they make the universe? What’s all of this for? Cheated for using two questions, but whatever.

Background

Where were you born and raised? I was born in Manila and raised in a city a little east of Manila.

Briefly describe your family. We’re five in the immediate family - my mom and dad have been married for 22 years and I have a younger sister and brother. I don’t talk to my brother anymore after an incident a few months ago; my sister and I are generally close. I have three grandparents that are still alive, but I’m generally closer to my grandma on my mom’s side since she lives nearer. I have 11 cousins but the number just gets so much bigger if you count second- and third-degree ones.

You must choose one - your childhood was calm/peaceful or tragic/turbulent? It was both, honestly. Since I lived with extended family growing up, I had relatives with drinking and violence problems on one side, but also relatives who strove to protect us from them and tried to give us a normal childhood. I can’t really pick one for you, because I experienced both.

Did you have any role models? I looked up to wrestlers from a very early age. Shawn Michaels and Lita were my childhood favorites.

What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you? [Trigger warning: suicide] Attempting suicide multiple times, summer 2017.

How did it affect you? [Trigger warning: suicide] Profoundly. I wouldn’t have met my orgmates if I succeeded, because I only joined my college org after the attempts. At the time I did it, I had no friends in college so looking back on it can feel surreal. I also realized that I am scared of myself knowing that I’m capable of physically getting to that point.

Have you ever had any recurring nightmares or themes in nightmares? When my depression was a lot worse two years ago, I would always get dreams of either me or Gab dying. It was always either of us getting shot.

What were they? ^

Do you currently have a boyfriend/girlfriend? I do.

Do you have any close friends? Yes <3

Briefly describe your best friend: She studies architecture, has a mole on the left side of her face, has a classy sense of style, loves The Maine, has two shihtzus named Hailey and Kennedy (the latter after Kennedy Brock from The Maine), and is one of the most genuine, caring, and smartest people I know.

Any enemies? I don’t think so, unless people have a problem with me that they aren’t telling me.

Who? What are they like?

Would you risk your life for your best friend? (not lover or family member!) For Angela? Easily.

With who was your most important romantic relationship? Gabie.

Of what are you most proud? Going to school in UP.

Of what are you most ashamed? My home life. I’m an open book except for this aspect.

Alignment, Ethics and Religion

What is your religion? None. Atheist.

Where do you stand on abortion? Pro-choice. Ez.

Where do you stand on the death penalty? I’m against it mostly for the fact that execution is literally the easiest way out. For shitty people who have done shitty things, let them rot in prison until they die. For people who have done shitty things but want to be better, let them be better and give them a second chance.

Where do you stand on wearing fur? HATE IT. Wear faux fucking fur if you’re so adamant on wanting fur on your outfit.

Do you have a moral code that you follow? What? Don’t we all have our own compasses?

Could you kill somebody? If my loved ones are involved, absolutely.

For what reason would you kill somebody? If my loved ones are seriously harmed. For self-defense too.

Would you SERIOUSLY CONSIDER killing anybody right now? No, not right now.

Do you trust easily, or not? I trust in the first place; but I can easily take the trust away if it’s abused.

What are your political beliefs (anarchy, communism, democracy etc.)? I’m a social democrat. < God, I don’t really pay attention to labels lmao but this seems pretty accurate.

What, if anything, WOULD you sacrifice your life for? Gabie and/or her family. Way too important to me.

Would you ever, for any reason, abandon your friends in an hour of need? I don’t think I can.

Motivation

What are your dreams/ambitions/goals? Complete college, find a job that pays well, pay for a house, travel abroad, start a family.

How do you plan to reach them? Work my ass off I guess?

How would your ideal partner look? I already have one.

Do you ever want to have a family someday? With children? Yes. I’ll be crushed if I don’t get one.

Who would you want to start this family with, or do you not yet know? My girlfriend, ideally.

What would stop you from reaching your goals (e.g. death, retirement fund)? I’m very money-oriented, like I would rather earn a lot in an okay job than be in a job I’m super super super passionate about but has a lower pay, so I think anything with inadequate pay will definitely demotivate me.

What do you see yourself doing next year? This time next year I’m already polishing up my thesis. I’ll be graduating in a few weeks, and I would have already come out to my parents.

What do you see yourself doing in twenty years? Having a family and being at that point in life where I’m just accomplished. I’d want to be feeling that way by the time I’m 41.

Would you ever have an affair? NO.

Would you ever have a one night stand? Idk, not really for me.

What are your greatest fears? Being a failure.

More information

If you had a month of nothing (no work, no obligations) what would you do? Provided that money wasn’t an issue, I’d eat out. Always. I’d try out new restaurants and the quirkiest food out there.

How do you relax? Sleep, talk to my friends, watch YouTube videos, and, if I have time, take surveys.

What one thing would you change in this world (free Tibet, abolish Sweden)? Do something about pollution or climate change.

Would you ever choose a career or job where your life was at risk? You mean, a journalist? Hahahahaha hell no. But again, unless the job pays well, then no.

Why? In the case of being a journalist, it’s just not worth it to me...which is sad, because I used to be very passionate about becoming one. But when I realized the horrible reality of taking up such a career, it was very easy to turn away. I’ll always be sorry to my 13 year old self.

How would you like to be remembered after your death? Someone who went out of her way to look out for people, no matter the situation. As simple as that.

Random questions

Where you present at any major historical events (e.g. 9/11)? Nope.

How did they affect you?

Do you have any famous relatives? I have relatives in the local government, plus my maternal grandfather’s clan pretty much owns all of Mindoro Oriental so there’s that. I don’t have celebrity relatives though.

Do you have to try and live up to your family’s expectations? Of course.

Are you a loyal member of any organizations? Just the one I applied for in my university haha.

General Information

Name: Robyn.

Age: 21.

Date Of Birth: April 21st.

Race: Brown.

Height: 5′2″

Weight: Uh like 90 something lbs. Idk, it always fluctuates around the 90s.

Are you happy with this? I could gain more weight honestly. I’m a little underweight, and clothes I wanna wear sometimes don’t fit or suit me for being too thin.

Desired weight: A little over 100 would be healthier for me I think.

Sexual orientation: I don’t fucking know anymore lmao. I can be bisexual one day, pansexual the next, and demisexual the next. I don’t really answer when I’m asked this.

First language: Filipino. Second/Third/Fourth etc. languages (if any): English.

Why did you take this survey? I haven’t taken a survey in such a long time because I was swamped with work. Tonight is the first time in two weeks I had enough time to squeeze in a survey.

#survey #surveys

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morsmanbacklog-blog · 7 years

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No. 2: Fallout 4

When I drew Fallout 4 as my second game I was tempted to revise the conditions of this blog; I had already put over 80 hours into the game, and wasn’t sure I had the chops to write on one so divisive. Besides, the very reason for this blog is that I get around to trying out the games that I let pile up underneath triple A titles like this one. In the end, though, I want this blog of mine to be as much about writing and thinking about video games as it is playing them, and Fallout 4 is certainly one that elicits some thinking.

I went to bed at a decent hour on November 9, 2015, the night Fallout 4 was released. Now, I was just as excited as anyone for Bethesda’s next open-world RPG, but unlike those who stay up for midnight releases, I’d much rather get up early than hold off sleep to enjoy a new game (yeah, I have also been known to find stray Werther’s Originals in my pockets. Why do you ask?). besides, the game was downloading on my PC as I slept and was pretty much ready to play when I awoke. By the time I left for class the next morning I had made my character, lost my wife and child, and had a shootout in Concord. I was thrilled to be back in post-apocalyptic America, and according to critics, so was everyone else.

Well, it has been almost two years since Fallout 4′s release, and it would seem that those initial, positive reviews don’t reflect the current sentiment toward the game. whether it be coming from my gaming friends or lengthy think pieces around the web, the general feeling of disappointment toward Fallout 4 reminds me now of these first reactions to The Phantom Menace in comparison to its standing today as one of the worst Star Wars movies. Many of us, including myself, may have been blinded by the updated graphics and new features that came along with Fallout 4, but the sheen has since worn off, and the game we have now fails to deliver on many levels.

Because Fallout 4 not only had to live up to the rest of the Fallout franchise, but also Bethesda’s long lineup of revered, open-world RPG’s, there is extensive writing around the web about the myriad ways in which the game disappoints. Redditers subscribed to the r/gaming subreddit may be familiar with the numerous infographs or charts comparing Fallout 4 to Obsidian’s Fallout: New Vegas like the one below, usually in order to show how great New Vegas’ story and quests are in comparison to Fallout 4′s. I tend to agree with these critiques, but I also have never heard anyone argue from the opposing side, making it seem like those making and posting these comparisons hate Fallout 4 more than they actually like New Vegas.

Oddly enough, I do not see many comparisons being made between Fallout 4 and Fallout 3, which would seem appropriate seeing as both games were made by the same developer and written by Emil Pagliarulo. Has Fallout 4 improved upon Fallout 3? The latter certainly has its critics, but I will get on with my time with Fallout 4.

Want me to play a game? show me the charts.

I started a new file shortly before beginning this blog, so I went ahead and picked up where I left off, which was right after saving a ragtag group of survivors from raiders at Concord. To spice things up this time around, I have been using the ENB and weather overhaul mod, PILGRIM, which makes the wasteland look and sound appropriately unsettling. I highly recommend the mod given that the game, though it certainly doesn’t look bad, seems oddly colorful and cheery at times.

As far as the story goes, I cannot speak for the whole thing because, despite playing Fallout 4 extensively, I never reached the end, though I believe I got rather close in my first playthrough. That fact in itself may speak toward the quality of the main quest, but I tend to go off the beaten path fairly quickly in all open-world games, including, yes, the apparent gold standard of storytelling, New Vegas. It is the side-quests, hidden journal entries, and environmental cues requiring us to fill in the gaps that give Bethesda’s worlds any sort of narrative edge. This fact makes games in the Fallout and Elder Scrolls series so attractive; they are big worlds that reward exploration. One almost gets the feeling that Bethesda feels obliged to cobble up some mainline quest in their games when the side quests and general goings-on in the world were enough. When there are worlds inside paintings to enter, vampire cults to find, and evil orphanage headmistresses to kill, saving the world once again seems a lot less interesting.

Fallout 4 is no different from Bethesda’s other RPG’s in this regard and is arguably worse due to the fact that the protagonist is not simply a voiceless avatar for the player to inhabit, but a fully voiced character who has had his world destroyed in every figurative and literal way imaginable. I cannot begin to fathom my reaction to my wife being murdered, my remaining family being kidnapped, and my world being nuked, but it probably would not involve returning long-past-due library books. All games like this require some amount of suspending disbelief; a main draw is the freedom of the open world, which almost requires letting the protagonist behave inconsistently with his or her character. Having a protagonist that can actually speak, though, makes it all the more awkward when I am not particularly interested in those goals; I begin to feel like the cordyceps fungus I saw in Planet Earth as I lead my unwitting character away from his own goals and toward my own.

As I said before, I have yet to finish the game’s main questline, but I am fairly confident that the leader of the before mentioned survivors, Preston Garvey, is Fallout 4′s main antagonist. If the player should choose to keep in contact with Preston after Concord (which I strongly discourage), he will soon saddle him or her with seemingly countless settlements to care for. What does taking care of a settlement mean? It could mean nothing. You could clear the designated settlement areas of raiders and then let the place go without food, water, or power. This is the route I take and the one I would recommend. You could let the evil Preston Garvey distract you from finding your son and stopping The Institute by doing his job for him, but why would you do that?

I hate so much about the things you choose to be

Yes, on paper being able build your own buildings, assign jobs to settlers, and generally sprinkle your own creativity into the Fallout universe sounds like a great idea, and it is, just not when crudely put into a completely different type of game. The settlement mechanics, though somewhat restrictive, are not all that bad either; there are some impressive creations to be found around the web, but that is not the point. The point is that this is a huge part of the game that takes up a lot of space on the map, so it detracts from and interrupts the greater Fallout experience. There was something special about being able to afford a house in Oblivion or earning that small home in Fallout 3, but the settlement system takes away that sense of home and accomplishment by drowning the player in it. Oddly enough, I think this problem could be improved upon if there were fewer settlements, and if they were much more difficult to obtain, but as is, the settlement system is, in my opinion, the worst addition to Fallout 4.

Though I stand by all that I have said thus far, I have now put around 100 hours into this game, and no amount of complaining on my part will negate that fact. You can tell me that the story is not compelling, that the settlement system doesn’t belong, that the dialogue choices are needlessly vague, or that the number of quests does not amount to that of New Vegas. Those critiques are all valid and make Fallout 4 the lesser of the three first-person Fallout titles. The key is to accept 4′s faults and enjoy what is great about the game as well as its many, welcome changes and gameplay improvements, such as better player movement and combat, an extensive crafting system, and a more varying and rewarding loot hunt.

What brings me back to Fallout 4, however, is the same gameplay loop that has drawn me to each of Bethesda’s games; there is a huge world and enough rewards and stories strewn about to keep me exploring it. The disappointment of the main quest is not as bad when I have quests of my own each time I play, like when I fought my way to the bottom of an abandoned hospital only to be jumped by a deathclaw, or when a yao guai chased me up a fallen tree in the woods. In the end, we play new installments in series such as Fallout and Elder Scrolls more for what has remained the same rather than what has changed, and those elements remain intact in Fallout 4.

Though I initially dreaded drawing fallout 4, I believe being forced to ponder the game for a while has brought be to a greater appreciation of it, despite its many flaws. In fact, I will probably keep playing it on the side when I can, even after posting this, and perhaps get my hands on the story DLC next time it goes on sale. I will make sure to write if I have any additional thoughts.

Ok, let’s see what we have next...

Blackshadows...What is Blackshadows?

P.S.Before I draw the next game, I have something to say about these types of games in general. Seeing as I was playing more for writing this blog rather than simply enjoying it as a game, I decided to be a bit more reckless with my items. I ate a lot of food, threw a lot of grenades, and generally didn’t play with the “but what if I need this later?” mentality. I ended up enjoying the game a lot more. it was better experience overall to just use what I had and get rid of what wasn’t useful.

P.P.S. I do not plan on all of my posts being this long. Many will be shorter. I am going to write my honest thoughts and opinions on each game I play, that is all I can guarantee, but Fallout 4 has so much going on within and outside of the game that it required a longer post.

#fallout 4 #fallout #bethesda #steam #steam games #pc gaming #video games #game blogging #game review

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eyoliam-blog · 7 years

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Writing soulmate AU

Every morning I wake up to a new surprise. Yesterday my arm was covered in vibrant red and purple flowers with singing blue birds. Today I woke up to music notes that seemed to make noise and beating hearts. I used to wonder how it got there, but it’s been happening for so long that I’ve just learned to accept it. The first time it happened I wondered if I was going insane, but everyone else could see it so I’m not imagining it. Then I started to think that I draw on myself while I sleep, but I never have anything to draw with near me and I can’t draw even a stick figure to save my life. So I thought that my little sister might be drawing on me, but she’s been at summer camp for the past few months.

My summer has been boring so far. I’ve just been catching up on all the shows I used to watch and playing football with my friends. I’m glad that I don’t have summer school this year and can just focus on relaxing before school starts up again. I still have to go to work a few days a week, but it’s not that bad, I get to talk to people and get out of the house for a while. Still, The Scorpion has it’s limits for fun. Taking orders and giving people their food doesn’t exactly scream summertime fun.

I get home from work when I notice a note from my mom. She’ll be home late but I shouldn’t worry. She put the leftover pizza in the fridge. I decide to stay up and watch some TV when I notice that the drawings on my arm are gone. I stare for a few minutes. I’ve tried washing them off before, it never works, why did it come off now? My eyelids grow heavy with sleep as I forget everything I was worrying about.

A few more hours pass when I start to feel something touching my arm. What is going on? Is my mom home now? Is a burglar trying to steal my arm and sell it? I slowly open my eyes but there’s no one there. No burglar, no mom, no one, but the feeling on my arm is still there. I look down expecting to see a bug or something on my arm but instead I see a strong proud lion staring intently at me. It’s mane is fluffy and golden and it’s eyes scream strength. But it’s not done yet. Someone is drawing on my arm, but there’s no way someone is in my house right now.

I quickly sit up and turn the light on. There’s no way this is happening. This is insane isn’t it? But I’m not insane, I can clearly see what’s happening and I’m obviously not dreaming. As the spots in my vision slowly disappear I notice that the lines on the lion are getting thicker and darker. Someone is drawing on my body, but how? How could they possibly be drawing on my arm without being here? Is it a ghost? Finally it stops. Two slender brown eyes stare right through me. The mane looks like it’s moving as I go to look it up what’s happening. I can’t be the only one who has experienced this.

After searching on a hundred different websites about drawings appearing on my body with no one around, I have nothing. No one has ever gone through this. Or at least no one on the internet. I’m about to give up when I notice someone on Reddit has asked about weird notes appearing on their arm. They say they will be busy doing something then feel someone writing stuff on their hand, even when there isn’t a person in sight. I scroll down and notice someone had sheet music and lyrics to songs appearing on their stomach sometimes. I look down and see someone asked, “What’s going on?” No one seems to know what’s going on or why.

I tell them my story, about a year ago, a few days after my 16th birthday random drawings started to appear on my arm and they haven’t stopped since. I used to think I was insane or someone was doing it to me but everyone can see the drawings and no one is home when it happens. My eyes start to feel heavy and I can’t do anything else so I decide to just go to bed.

When I wake up the next morning, my mom is shaking my arm, “Vincent, get up your sister is coming home today and we need to pick her up from the airport.” I move at slug speed as I haul my pants on and change my shirt. No time to shower or check my computer. We drive along in silence. No how was work or are you ready for school. She hasn’t even noticed the drawings even though it’s been almost a year. Finally she says something to me, “Do you have work today?” I nod. We don’t say anything for the rest of the trip so I plug in my headphones.

Before I know it I’m at the airport and looking for my little sister Megan. My eyes are scanning the crowd when a guy runs straight into me. He falls down but I barely budge. “I’m so sorry.” he says. “I should’ve watched where I was going.”

“It’s okay,” I stick my hand out for him to take. “Are you alright?” When he puts his hand in mine I notice a little bit of brown and gold marker peaking out from under the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’m really sorry if this sounds strange, but could I possibly see your arm?” My heart starts racing.

“Huh?” He looks down at his arm. “Um...sure I don’t see why not.” He moves his sleeve down to reveal a proud lion with brown slender eyes. The air seems to have left my lungs. I’m so confused. Is this happening to him too? Why does it look exactly like the lion on my arm? His voice pulls me back from my thoughts. “I’m a bit self conscious of my art, but I really like how this turned out. Hey, are you okay?” He gently touches my arm. “You don’t seem so good. Are you sick?”

“I know this is going to sound crazy but just try to listen to me.” He steps back a bit. “Please, I know you have no reason to believe me, but just try to act like it’s possible.”

“Um, I’m sorry but I have to go...I’m going to end up missing my flight.” He starts to walk away.

“Wait!” I grab his arm and turn him around. “Look,” I take my jacket off to show him the same exact lion drawing in the same exact place. “I wake up every morning to new drawings. Last night I woke up and...felt someone drawing this on me, but there was no one there.”

He grabs my arm and compares it with his. “You’re insane. Did you draw this? Did you just escape from an insane asylum or something? Do you really think you can trick me into believing you by showing me a drawing that looks somewhat like the one on my arm? I mean, how did you even know that I was going to draw this on my arm?”

“Please” I say. “I know it sounds crazy. I wouldn’t believe me either but I can’t draw. At all. And it just...shows up! I wake up and it’s there. Please at least let me test something.”

“What do you mean test it?” He looks around. “What are you going to do?” My mind races, looking for an answer. I really didn’t think this through. Then the lightbulb flashes. “Draw something. Anything. If I’m not lying then whatever you draw on your arm will appear on my arm.”

He looks at me skeptically, but agrees. He starts to dig through his bag and pulls out a bright red marker. He scribbles on his wrist and looks at me. I lift my wrist to reveal a heart. He looks down but shows me his wrist with the exact same heart. I freeze.

“I believe you.” He squeaks. “How long has it been happening?” “A little bit after my 16th birthday.” I mumble. “Jesus. You’re only 16?” He looks at me. “No I’m 17. How old are you?” “I’m 20.” He says. “Almost 21. What’s your name?” “I’m Vince-” I trail off as I notice a little ponytail bobbing around in the crowd. “Listen, I’m really sorry but I have to go, I promise I’ll be right back.”

I run over to my sister. “Megan!” I grab her and swing her over my shoulder. “I’m never letting you go to summer camp ever again. Do you know how bored I was without you?” She laughs. “Vinny!” she squeals. “Vinny put me down. I can’t help it you’re boring!” “Did you just call me boring? You go away for a few weeks and all of a sudden I’m not good enough for you?” I put her down and brushed her hair out of her face. “Come on, mom’s waiting for us.” I swing her bag over my shoulder and look for the guy I was talking to but can’t find him. Great I didn’t even catch his name.

Kill me I just realized how much this sucks.

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