#absolutely convinced it's because I was polite and that it's the assholes who don't get these kinds of exceptions

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move. 

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever. 

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes. 

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells? 

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes. 

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum. 

Or survival instincts. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . . 

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion. 

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still. 

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.” 

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person. 

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem. 

A serious problem. 

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?” 

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head. 

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?” 

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was. 

Flattering, but incredibly obvious. 

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.” 

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.” 

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves. 

Or a lot harder, sometimes. 

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . . 

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes. 

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside. 

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe? 

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone. 

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now. 

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.” 

Red Hood laughs. 

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!” 

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes? 

She spent way too long in Amity, yes. 

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake. 

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . . 

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . . 

Then again, her life is her life. 

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now. 

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.” 

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?” 

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling. 

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that. 

Hm. 

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies. 

Well, so is Amity Park, of course. 

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not. 

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances. 

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved. 

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells. 

Definitely inappropriate. 

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says. 

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means. 

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly. 

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.” 

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it. 

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment. 

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering. 

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?” 

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows. 

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . . 

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . . 

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.” 

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because. 

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way. 

“Are you sure?” she asks.

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt.3

Hello! A part three has arrived! This chapter also triples as a birthday present to @thedeimoshimself AND a happy two year lazzo anniversary! It's been two years hoyo where the FUCK is Pantalone?!

Notes: Sfw (why do I keep saying that, I don't have plans to make this NSFW), reader's dad is fully an asshole, slight homophobia and ableism? No slurs but like implied homophobia and reader is slightly infantilized over his condition by his mother

Pt.1, pt.2

If the occasional sight of Pantalone walking out of your father’s office didn’t give it away, the increasing arguments between your parents told you that somehow the man convinced the Regrator to become his business partner. You assume it’s purely on your father’s actual management skills, as there’s not a chance Pantalone found his first few impressions charming. Perhaps it helps that your father’s business shrinking down is more a result of a changing job market than it is any actual incompetence. That’s what you’ve heard, anyways. You were never a business major so most of what your father says goes in one ear and out the other.

Additionally, your father has been kissing Pantalone’s ass ever since the two started working together, and most of it comes in the form of inviting him over for dinner, where he will regale the Harbinger with a fascinatingly mundane tale or a business tactic that Pantalone has surely already mastered. You’re a rare guest at these dinners, choosing to work on your book instead.

Still, in the rare moments where you and Pantalone share the same space, you have to admit he’s pleasant company. He’s polite, and when he inquires about your work, he listens intently to your answer. You’ve also learned he’s a rambler, going on tangents the length of all your published works combined. It gets overwhelming whenever the subject is about Snezhnaya’s financial state or the profit margins of the Northland Bank, but his magnetic voice lures you in anyways. When you pass him by, you catch a whiff of a floral cologne, though it’s so fleeting and subtly you can never place the flower itself. Nothing that would grow in Snezhnaya. 

… It would not be inaccurate to say you have the most littlest of crushes on Pantalone, but nothing more. He’s a conventionally attractive man with a soothing voice and nice taste in perfume. He also talks to you like he would your father, never with an air of pity or condescension like your family does. Naturally you’d be drawn to this.

Your mother has stopped mentioning her discomfort over the partnership because she has grown tired of arguing about it. She regards the Harbinger with politeness, as she would with any other guest, but makes herself scarce unless her presence is absolutely necessary. She thinks it’s hypocritical of your father to claim downsizing would be a black mark on your family’s reputation, but partnering with the Fatui for monetary gain is much better. She hates the thought of him being around you and your siblings, especially you.

You tie the twine wrapped around the stack of paper on your desk tight, ensuring none of the pages come loose. “I can handle him just fine.”

“He’s a Harbinger, you don’t just get that rank the moment you join the Fatui! You don’t get that sort of ranking or title through goodhearted, honest work.”

“I know.”

“Especially him. Being a charismatic and intelligent business man is his most notable trait. Who knows what sort of manipulative tricks he has up his sleeve?”

You turn around, your mother briefly passing through your field of vision, before you see your bed, and the open briefcase on top of it. Picking up the latest chapter’s draft, you make your way over to your bed. “So when he asks me how my writing is going, or what I’ve been up to lately, do I just ignore him?”

“Obviously not,” your mother replies, “but just… I don’t like him talking to you.”

“I’m a grown man,” you respond, dropping the draft into your briefcase, “not a child. I will survive a little bit of small talk with him when we cross paths.”

“Just watch what you say around him,” your mother insists, “he’s the kind of man that will find any weakness and exploit him, and–”

“I have many.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

You slam the briefcase and look up at your mother. “For the last time, I am not a child!” You lift your hand and curl your index finger and thumb into a small hole. “Just because this is what I deal with everyday doesn’t mean you have to keep coddling me!”

Silence hangs in the air as your mother stares at you, eyes wide and lip trembling. Irritation gives way to pity once again. You know she means well. You know she feels guilt. You know she blames herself for your shortcomings and frustrations.

You sigh. “Sorry, it’s the deadline,” you tell her, “I’m just stressed over the next chapter, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No, n-no, it’s alright,” your mother assures you. She approaches you, cupping your face in her hands so that you can only see her pitiful smile. She kisses your cheek. “I shouldn’t be burdening you with my ranting.”

And you promised to stop breathing down my neck so much. “I might be home late,” you tell her, “once I submit the chapter, my editor and I are going out to dinner.”

“You’ll have a much better dinner than I,” she jokes, though there’s a lack of humour in her eyes, “your father is entertaining Lord Pantalone tonight.”

You raise your brow. “Didn’t they meet up like two nights ago?”

“I don’t know anymore,” your mother replies, exasperated, “I feel like every other night I have to have that man in my home.”

You laugh. “Better him than the Doctor, right?”

“Oh don’t even joke about that,” your mother says.

You shrug your shoulders in response. You turn to your bed again, reaching down to secure your briefcase’s latches so your draft doesn’t spill out again. Once it’s closed up tight, you grasp the handle and lift it up off the bed. Your mother gives you another kiss on the cheek as you say goodbye, that you’ll probably be back once the Regrator’s left the estate. She wishes you luck, and lets you leave your room.

—

“Anyways, all this to say it couldn’t have been a more textbook example of fraud, like the exact scenario I would have brought up during an interview to test what a new teller would do in that hypothetical situation,” Pantalone recounts, laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Your father, sat in a chair across from Pantalone, chuckles as one of the maids fills up his second glass of wine. The flames of the fireplace reflect off the crystal clear glass. “Really? It was that obvious?”

“Really!” Pantalone laughs. “I admit, I actually had to look around at the rest of the tellers and the people in line, because I needed to know if I was the only one who was seeing this, or if I was being pranked. It was that bad. The teller who brought this to my attention, she was fully convinced I had sent them in as some sort of test to see if they were all conducting transactions properly.”

“That’s the sort of thing that would get your ass kicked,” your father remarks, taking a sip of his now full glass. 

“I would phrase that less crudely, but yes, very much. Rest assured, they were swiftly removed from the premises and banned from all current establishments.”

Your dad whistles. “Y’see, this is why I knew us working together was such a good idea,” he says, “because you know how to handle trouble, and you make sure your employees know how to handle it too.”

Pantalone nods. “I believe that in order for us to truly take control of the money we use in our everyday lives, you must ensure the people handling your money know what they’re doing. Archons? Well, they don’t need mora, so they don’t really care where it goes or how it’s used or whose hands it falls into. We need to keep track of it all, because we can’t just will it into existence.”

“It’s why I’m proud of my children,” your father says, taking a noticeably larger sip of his wine. “They’re all hard workers. My eldest girl, she’s been working with me since she was a teen, she’ll inherit the business when I retire. My oldest boy’s a doctor, saves lives everyday and goes home to his wife and children. My second daughter, she’s a lawyer, ah what’s it called… I forget the name, but she does workplace accidents and whatnot, makes sure people are compensated for their injuries. My youngest girl is studying medicine at the Akademiya, wants to be like her big brother.”

Pantalone nods along to the man’s tipsy rambling, but pauses once he does the math. He recalls a conversation he had with you on a previous visit, and gives your father a perplexed smile. “What of your other son?”

“Hm?”

“Your son. The writer. The one who’s going blind?”

“You’ve met him, I don’t need to tell you anymore about him.”

Pantalone leans forward in his chair. “I’m just curious why you didn’t mention him as one of the children you’re proud of.”

“I am proud of him,” your father states, a noticeable slur in his voice. “I just…he’s different, y’know? He’s not like his siblings. He can’t do surgeries or lawyer things, he just sits in his study and types on that typewriter all day.”

“Hasn’t he been writing professionally for quite some time now?”

“They barely pay the boy! At least I don’t think they pay him much. Not enough for him to move out like his other siblings did.”

Pantalone opens his mouth to further question to rambling man, but both men jump when the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut echoes from the floor above. It causes the host to spill his drink in his lap.

Pantalone catches a glimpse of your mother passing by the living room’s doorway, and calls out to her. She hesitates, but enters the room. The look of despondence on her face catches her husband’s attention, while the briefcase in her hands catches Pantalone’s.

“The hell was that?” he asks.

Your mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears when she speaks. “Our son’s out of a job.”

“What?”

“The publisher,” she says, “s-something about budget cuts? They said they c-can’t afford to publish his next book. He’s still new compared to the other writers they work with, so they’re only publishing the stories they know will make money. They don’t want to risk it with him, a-and…” She puts down the suitcase, and she wipes the tears from her eyes. “It’s not fair, h-he’s worked so hard and this is how they repay him?!”

Pantalone frowns. “The publishing industry is a harsh one,” he comments.

“Yes, he should be used to it by now,” your father comments.

“Like you have any idea about how his career works!” your mother suddenly snaps. “I don’t see you going to his book signings!”

Your father glares at her. “I’m sorry, but one of us has to work so the other one can stay home all day!”

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses, stepping towards and towering above her husband. “This is not about us, okay, this is about your son! He’s spent so long honing his craft and they just tossed him aside!”

“It’s not that hard to write something! I could be a writer too if I spent all day poking a typewriter! I’d write something actually worth reading.”

“His writing is lovely!”

“‘Course you like it, he writes prissy girly books! What sort of man writes books like that?”

I haven’t told my family I like men yet.

With the shouting from both your parents, your shame laced words echo in Pantalone’s head. If it only takes a glass and a half for your father to blurt that out, it’s no wonder why you two can’t seem to see eye to eye, why you’re ashamed of what you write. Even if he didn’t find you an interesting character, to hear a man talk about his son in this way disgusts him. This is not what Pantalone looks for in his business partners, and he sponsors Dottore.

The two adults stop screaming at each other like children when Pantalone stands up, silently commanding their attention. He gives them both a hard look, your father especially, chastising their behaviour with a mere look. Your mother wipes away angry tears and takes a deep breath, while your father just looks at the ground. Quietly, your mother apologizes and excuses herself for the night.

Your father hardly moves, swirling his glass of wine. He does not lift his head when Pantalone bids him goodnight and goodbye. As such, he does not see Pantalone reach down and grasp the briefcase’s handle.

The halls are empty, silent save for the sounds of Pantalone’s footsteps. When he returns home, he will have to reconsider his affiliation with your father, perhaps after he views the contents of this briefcase. If he had to guess, this is what you were working on the night you made your second first impression on him, or maybe the chapter after that one. 

It isn’t working out with your father, so perhaps it will work out better with you?

[conversationswiththemoon]

I finished Dragon Age: Veilguard

I finished my first playthrough of DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD today. So what follows will be heavily spoilerific. I will talk about the ending, but not give away any big spoilers.

SPOILERS!

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THE BAD: I'm going to get the critiques out of the way.

So, this game got off to a rough start. It was in development for 10 years, during which it was restarted multiple times because of executive meddling. EA, which owns Bioware, wanted it to be a live-service MMO game, whereas the franchise has only ever been single player RPG. Because of that it, the story structure suffered, even after someone finally convinced EA that nobody would buy an MMO Dragon Age game.

There are some big departures from previous games that were glaring and hard to swallow. For one, the hallmark of Dragon Age is that major decisions you make influence your world state in the next game. For this game... virtually no details from prior games are imported, including several that were pretty major. So because of that, a lot of character interactions are really watered down, which is a disappointment. You DO get to recreate your Inquisitor (protagonist of game #3) but frankly, the interactions are pretty generic compared to similar returning characters of the past.

The other big problem I had with the game is that the writing simply refuses to let the viewer sit with discomfort. A big part of prior games is that there are choices made that have no clear right or wrong answer. They're gray and hard and morally challenging. Fans will debate endlessly over them. They enrich the world immeasurably because even if you absolutely HATE a particular companion, you at least understand how they got to their particular POV. But not in Veilguard. In this game, the few-and-far-between friction points are smoothed over quickly.

In previous games, there were arcs where companions went from enemies to friends or friends to enemies over the course of events, but here they stay largely static. Friendly from the start, with quickly resolved conflicts. Banter suffers from it, making a lot of the dialogue between companions much blander than previous installations.

This bleeds over into Rook's dialogue. (Rook is the player character.) The most they can muster is some mild occasional grumpiness, even when outright hostility may be called for. I got to punch one asshole, but that's about it.

Bad guys often get kid gloves, too. I noticed that human baddies get off lightly compared to baddies of other races, and thought it was an odd choice for a game series where you used to be able to outright execute traitors and other murderers.

The politics are also pretty watered down. Major plot points in the prior games revolve around there being slavery in the places this game takes place. Particularly slavery of the elven underclass, the eradication of which is central to the motive of a major character.

We see, literally, like one slave in this whole game. When one of the factions you spend your time helping literally exists to eradicate slavery in their city but the parts of the city you see are slavery free? That's a cop out.

Other factions are similarly neutered; the Antivan Crows, a ruthless assassin's guild who we are told by a former member take in children and kill those that don't succeed... suddenly become the kinder, gentler mafia that support their fledglings.

So what I'm saying is that the world feels like its had all of its edges sanded down and smoothed over for comfort (whose? why?) and in a way, that feels like a betrayal of what a Dragon Age game should be. Dragon Age games are SUPPOSED to challenge you. They're supposed to make you think about what tactics are best to reach your goal. They're supposed to make you take into account people who have had wildly different life experiences and how you can reconcile to meet that goal. So this was a particularly bitter disappointment.

Also I took issue with writing for one companion in particular, Taash. Spoilers for Taash's arc in this paragraph. Over the course of the game, Taash, a first gen immigrant, comes out as non-binary. They're written more immaturely than other companions, but we've always had a young and kinda bratty companion in the mix so I shrugged at that. But the weird thing is that even though they're non-binary, the game forces you more than once to decide FOR them whether they're more like their parent's culture or like the culture they grew up in. You literally force them into a different binary. Like. It's a baffling hypocrisy, and frankly something I imagine would be super insulting to immigrants in general. Very tone-deaf writing from Trick Weekes, whose writing I usually like.

The romances were a pale shadow of what they have been. The one letter we get from Inquisition's romanced character had more romance in it than the entirety of the full romance in this one. I romanced Davrin. He was sweet and hot. But the fact that I couldn't strike up a conversation with him outside of preordained story beats sucked, and the romances are so back-loaded they don't get proper time to breathe.

Minor, but there isn't an epilogue where we can spend time with characters after the final fight the way we could in games past, and in that way it ends kind of abruptly.

And finally, having basically the fantasy KKK and the Evil Fascist Empire capitulate and fall in line under the banner of their traditional enemies felt way too fait accompli and handwavy. And to that end, there is not nearly enough elven outrage when they find out their Gods are, in fact, capital-E EVIL.

THE GOOD:

I had a lot of fun playing the game. The combat style is a huge departure from prior installments. It's not without its faults (ranged players have a notably difficult time with several bosses) but it was fun even if I didn't use all of the features for my class. I will try them next time.

The environments are GORGEOUS. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. Just jaw-dropping. Honestly I thought I was going to hate the aesthetic of the whole game based on the early marketing, but I really ended up liking it a lot.

You get a baby griffin AND a charming skeleton manservant. I would lay down my life for either.

The Big Bad villains are well done and appropriately terrifying.

The Blight is shown in all its hideous glory and the parts that involve it are appropriately gross. (Do you like Dr. Pimple Popper? Boy howdy, have I got the game for you!)

I thought most of the companion quests were executed well, especially Emmrich's.

I liked the armor variety and crafting/improvement system. I really enjoyed how fully customizable Inquisition's system was, but as an alternative, this felt good to me, too.

After the first big main quest, the game gets noticibly better. I went from grumping all the time to actually enjoying it. By act 3, the game is in full swing, and the finale is just so so GOOD. Truly, the pacing of the finale is chef's kiss. There are ways for it to go fully wrong, but even when everything goes as well as the writing will allow, it still stings in all the right places. Mass Effect players will notice a particularly noticible Bioware hallmark in there.

OVERALL: I'll play this game again. I want to spend more time with the companions, trying different combinations and playstyles. It's a really fun game. But from a writing standpoint, it's easily the weakest Dragon Age game to date, which is a real shame. It's hard to say how much of that is the game lead / writers being afraid to show teeth and how much of it was executive fuckery. It's probably a bit of both, honestly.

[limnsaber]

Mandalorian Slash Fic Rec List - Volume IV: ArmorKatan, DinCobb, BobaDin, Others

What it says in the title! 💜 means a personal favorite of mine. Volumes I, II, and III can be found at the associated links, as well as Mando Gen Volumes I, II and III. Give your love to our beloved authors, and please enjoy! -Limn <3

Bo-Katan/The Armorer

your hands in the heat by noraelle (Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer, Missing Scene, Gen, 2.5k)

Bo let her gaze drift across the surreal mix of Mandalorians sprawled out in front of her on deck before letting it linger on the Armorer, who was still tending to the wounded, changing medpads. The movement of her hands was quick and skilled, similar to the few times she had seen the other woman forge beskar, telling her this most likely wasn’t the first time she’d been in charge of patching up a group of injured. or: bo has a lot of thoughts, gets teased by koska and the pirates ship turns out to be the perfect backdrop for a heart-to-heart

💜 accidents let the evening in the back door by @swampcowboy (Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Teen, 7k)

They might as well put it in the papers: Former Up-and-Coming Political Spitfire Turned Alleged Domestic Terrorist Found Absolutely Fucking Pathetic, Might As Well Be Dead, Aged 36. Because nobody who found themselves plastered at a fringe Mando bar for the third Friday night in a row had anything left to contribute to the world, obviously. (Or, Bo-Katan Kryze finds herself in the depths of a personal crisis at a birthday party for some asshole she doesn't even know. She makes the best of a bad situation. The Armorer helps.)

why don't you close your eyes and reinvent me by @novasforce (Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer, Missing Scene, Mature, 1k)

But she keeps her helmet grasped between steady hands, keeps her eyes focused and unblinking, and her head held high. She is Bo-Katan Kryze, and she is none of the weaknesses that had once gotten her sister killed; she is forged from beskar in both body and mind, unshakable and impenetrable. Or: a meeting in the Forge beneath Nevarro

DinCobb

how it feels when we fall, when we fold by @ckerouac (Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Missing Scene, Gen, 11k)

“Well… shit, Mando,” Cobb breathed, resetting the safety on his blaster and holstering it. “This isn’t exactly what I meant when I said I hoped our paths crossed again.” Din gave a humorless chuckle and let his head fall back against the wall. “This isn’t how I saw it going either.” Cobb takes in a grieving Mandalorian, who isn't quite ready to accept he's grieving yet.

They got me and I’ll never give up (But I need you to save me now) by @emmeddt (Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth, Mistaken Identity, POV Cobb Vanth, Fluff and Angst, Explicit, 33k)

“You planning of making a mess in my town?” The answer is immediate, right to the point. “You planning on shooting me?” Cobb decides to play it safe: he doesn’t remove his hand from the blaster. “Not if it can be avoided.” The stranger’s lips break apart in more than one place when he produces another little grin, a sarcastic twitch, but somehow Cobb knows that the smile is not for him: it’s meant for the stranger himself. “Maybe it can’t,” the guy says after a beat. “Maybe it would be better that way.” -- Or: my take on what really happens after Din is forced to say goodbye to Grogu.

BobaDin

think not, the eleventh commandment by qigiined (Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Ensemble Cast, Family Dynamics, Disabled Character, Moby Dick AU, Mature, 18k)

Boba leaves Djarin to his tracking while he takes deep breaths and tries to convince himself that running screaming into the wastes is not how he is going to deal with all this. He needs to think smarter, not harder. The sarlacc is an enormous motherfucking terror dome. It cannot move far, and it cannot possibly move fast. If it moved, it has to be around here somewhere. Someone has to have felt it or seen it. Someone has to know something about sarlaccs. Someone living. Someone dead. (Boba sets out to hunt his white whale.)

💜 still got it by qigiined (Rex/The Armorer, Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Ensemble Cast, Romance, Drama, Teen, 14k)

Bly points out that it’s a good thing that Boba has found a connection with someone who is so orderly and collected. Opposites attract, he says. “Mando only remembers he exists twice a day,” Fives deadpans. “When he speaks,” Cody corrects. “Guys, you don’t know that,” Bly says. “He could be just as smitten. Rex, you dated a Mandalorian once. Tell them.” All eyes land on Rex. He begins to sink into his chair. (Rex dated the Armorer back in the day and finds her again when he meets the guy who Boba is trying to court.)

Rarepair/Multi

oh you little night by qigiined (Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth, Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Ensemble Cast, Misunderstandings, Drama, Romance, Mature, 18k)

Cobb can’t help smiling wryly and wondering if the Mandalorian has been looking for someone to take home who his mama would approve of. He wonders if the Mandalorian’s knees went weak in the face of Boba Fett’s endless list of successful bounties. He wonders if he stammers when he tries to talk to him. It would be cute if so. Cobb’s jaw has been aching for the last two days. (Cobb Vanth is called down to Anchorhead to investigate a case on behalf of a Tatooine historical society. He leaves having just learned that the Mandalorian he's been opening his heart to has been opening his heart to someone else.)

Everything Else by skywalkers (Han Solo/Paz Vizsla, Background Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Ensemble Cast, Mandalorian Religion, Force-Sensitive Paz Vizsla, Teen, 39k)

The Armorer raises her hand. “The Manda appeared before you, for which you are destined. You have toiled under this dishonor, and now the Gods have shown their favor. But these portents show more.” She takes a moment to gather herself; Paz hears it in the air like a hammer. “You will have your glory and name, Paz Vizsla. And you will betray Din Djarin.” - Paz receives a vision from the Gods promising his redemption—and Din's doom. While struggling with his new connection to the Gods, he and Han Solo, a general of the New Republic, are sent to the planet of Corellia to investigate a covert that's gone missing.

[thesporkidentity]

I had not formed this conclusion in consequence of Sir Percival's refusal to show the writing or to explain it, for that refusal might well have proceeded from his obstinate disposition and his domineering temper alone. My sole motive for distrusting his honesty sprang from the change which I had observed in his language and his manners at Blackwater Park, a change which convinced me that he had been acting a part throughout the whole period of his probation at Limmeridge House. His elaborate delicacy, his ceremonious politeness which harmonised so agreeably with Mr. Gilmore's old-fashioned notions, his modesty with Laura, his candour with me, his moderation with Mr. Fairlie—all these were the artifices of a mean, cunning, and brutal man, who had dropped his disguise when his practised duplicity had gained its end, and had openly shown himself in the library on that very day.

so the fact that he demanded she sign a contract while absolutely refusing to let her read it, indeed, making sure she couldn't read it by covering all the text except the signature line with victorian sticky notes, isn't what made them suspicious. no, that could be explained by him being just the kind of petty asshole who would demand unquestioning obedience from laura and start slamming his hands against the desk to scare them because she's his wife and should do as he says. what made them suspicious was the way that he first tried the charm approach to get what he wanted rather than his default demand of obedience. what a fucking nightmare that they don't question when he's violent, but when he's nice.

also, this is unrelated to the quote, but my brain is just reeling at the cognitive dissonance of the attitudes in this scene. and i don't mean sir percival specifically, i mean the general attitudes including percival's insistence, and fosco's declaring that he and his wife have only one opinion (his), both representative of the idea that a wife should obey the husband (it's just that there are acceptable and un-acceptable ways of ensuring that obedience).

like, on one hand is the attitude that a wife should only do as her husband says. and yet on the other hand is the contradiction of laura having some sort of legal right that requires her consent and signature. she should submit to her husband's will, and yet the requirement of her signature means that she is taking on whatever the responsibility of that contract is. she should have no say, but she should bear the consequences of his deciding for her. it's just this catch-22, there's no way for her (or, truly, women in general) to win there. i hate it! a woman has some sort of legal right, except that she shouldn't, she should follow orders, she should be responsible for a contract. it just goes round and round in a circle of contradictions but no one acknowledges that no-win scenario except for laura and marian. the men just either pretend they don't see it (likely fosco) or truly have never examined that situation because their privilege means it doesn't affect them or benefits them (likely glyde). anyway i hate it, it makes me want to tear my hair out

[arrow-dodger]

Hi. I hate Christmas.

(This is about to be a poorly constructed and boring rant. Sorry.)

There are many things about Christmas that are fine and good in theory, I guess, but I'm not someone who gets to enjoy those things, so I'm a total Scrooge at this point.

I hate the capitalism. Nobody needs to buy this much stuff. I'm serious. Nobody. The fact that we're meant to spend a great deal of money on every single person close to us on the holidays is frankly absurd, not to mention unsustainable in this economy. The fact that parents have to budget for the entire year to buy their children an acceptable amount of plastic for Christmas is such a nightmare to me. I just find no joy in any of this.

I hate that there have to be entire guides about how to "survive" visiting your family for the holidays or them visiting you. I hate that my friend group chat is full of messages wishing everyone luck "dealing" with their families on Christmas. So many people have a fucking miserable time doing this, yet they do it anyway. They have families who are rude and disrespectful and have terrible boundaries, but for the holidays you're meant to tolerate all of that to "be polite" and go along with "traditions." I understand that toxic family dynamics are all unique and to be dealt with individually, but I wish people would question these status quo things more.

Mostly I hate the culture of gift exchange. I cannot overstate how much I hate it.

I am not good at it. I don't buy myself very many random trinkets. I have a lot of anxiety about spending money on myself in general, so I have to make excuses and convince myself and buy things for utility purposes that seem to shake out properly in my mind (this is something that has gotten way worse in the past 2-3 years due to having to pay off many thousands of dollars of medical debt). I also just generally don't enjoy having "stuff." (Stuff as in things with no particular use. I'm talking figurines, plushies, even shit like vases or random sculptural shit that just exists to sit on a shelf and look pretty.) Like 90% of the "stuff" I have was a gift from someone else. I don't even really like receiving gifts unless it's something I specifically asked for or said I liked, because then I just get anxiety about what I'm going to do with the thing.

Because of all this I do not have a consumer mindset compatible with being good at buying gifts for other people. I have no idea what kind of things people WANT to be gifted! It doesn't naturally come to me at all! And that's one of the main things with gift giving -- you're meant to be able to read people's minds about it. You're supposed to guess what someone would like based on your knowledge of them and the relationship you have. If you guess poorly, that means you're a bad friend and not very thoughtful. If you buy them something like a gift card so they can pick out their own thing (something I personally enjoy receiving because it takes away the anxiety of being given a random thing I might not need/want), you're lazy and don't care about that person. If you just ask them what they want so you can be sure to get the right thing, depending on the person, this is also a slight. It's all a big game, and if you're not an expert at it, you lose pretty much all of the time! And then that makes the people you care about RESENT you! My favorite thing!!

You may think I'm being dramatic, but I'm really not. Social media after the holidays is absolutely inundated with posts like "am I the asshole for not liking this gift I received" where the comments reinforce the idea that someone giving you a gift you don't like means they're a lazy and uncaring friend/partner/relative. People who get gifts donated to them through charity complain that they didn't get enough, or good enough items! I listen to my own friends and family complain about things they received and how it must mean the person who got them the thing doesn't really care about them. (My dad did this once about something my sister bought him at the Dollar Store. She was maybe 12 years old at the time.) You see people asking what the etiquette is for regifting, donating, or throwing away things they got as gifts. Does anyone even LIKE anything they get for Christmas?! If not, or if not in most cases, THEN WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT? What a waste of everyone's fucking time and money!

Everything about this shit makes me feel anxious and like a total clueless loser. Add on all my trauma from working in retail on the holidays, every fucking building I try to go into being so crowded and teeming with holiday shoppers it gives me claustrophobia, cold and flu season absolutely raging this time of year and sick people not staying home because they just HAVE to go out and buy more shit, my seasonal depression and genuine hatred of cold weather, my terrible relationship with my own shitty family, the anniversary effect of so many terrible things happening to me this time of year throughout my life, and all the shitty annoying music to top it all off, and we are left with absolutely ZERO redeemable things about this time of year. I am not exaggerating when I say I almost die this time of year pretty much annually now.

It's just a game of survival to me at this point. "How was your holiday? :)" makes me seethe. I want to be SO HAPPY FOR YOU ALL that you're having a GOOD TIME, but my god it's hard.

[wolfnanaki]

hello, im an absolute bypasser who sorta stumbled upon a somewhat political post of yours. as someone with a significantly different opinion than yours, i just wanted to say i admire how mature and respectful you are! as people we all have different opinions and at some point we need to agree to disagree, and nowadays it’s hard to find people like that on the internet where everyone wants to use their platform to preach. i hope you’re having a super nice day!!

Thank you for the kind words, Anon. c:

I try my best to always be clear, respectful, and thoughtful when I'm talking about my political opinions because I think it's important that people understand the thought process and intent behind my beliefs. More than just being able to back up your words with facts and data, it's also crucial for people to like you. And you don't be a likable person by being an asshole, lmao. Plus, if you don't communicate clearly, you leave room for bad faith actors to twist your words and lie about you.

I made this motto that I try to live by: "When the world is ruled by hate, rebel with love." I think a big problem in how social media has conditioned us to communicate is by encouraging conflict. People posting their hottest, worst takes as "bait" to get people angry and arguing, shouting past each other in hate. I don't engage in that. I literally can't; when I get angry, I get physically sick. And I know that no matter how respectful or thoughtful I am, I can't convince everyone.

So I do two things. For the people on the opposite side of me that are open to change and hearing arguments against their beliefs, I have that information ready. And for the people who are struggling in the world as it is now, I show them love, compassion, and support in every way that I can.

Anyway! I hope you're having a nice day too! 🎵

[icannotgetoverbirds]

political action for arizona residents!

TL:DR help me waste a conservative hotline's time with bogus stories about CRT

Do you know of an obnoxiously conservative school? Is your teacher racist as fuck? Does your school refuse to acknowledge systemic racism? Well boy howdy do I have an idea for you!

Over at 602-771-3500 or empower@azed.gov, republican assholes are looking to the community for reports of Critical Race Theory being taught.

They're making no efforts to deter spammers, because they think we're going to sit back and let their racist asses go unbothered. Remember, creating a new email address is free.

It is absolutely vital that we only report people who are NOT teaching critical race theory. What we are doing here is wasting their resources as much as possible: I'm looking for writers to send in emails and people with acting skills to make phony calls, reporting the exact people that would be most annoyed by getting accused of teaching CRT.

It's important that we're convincing enough to waste their time and resources. If you don't know of a conservative non-CRT-teaching place to report, just waste their time with a fake address and story.

If you do, however, know of an institution to report, you can send them on a wild goose chase that makes them realize how fragile groups ralling around ideology built on hate and ignorance really are.

Also: If you don't feel comfortable writing and sending in stories, send me stories of your most racist teachers and institutions and I can send stories in for you. I'm a writer myself and can absolutely use your truths to weave a nice web of lies for these assholes on your behalf.

Warning: Do not use this to get back at teachers/institutions that you just don't like. Unless they are both conservative (or apologists) and also do not teach CRT, do not target them. Otherwise you are delivering to the Republicans exactly what they want.

Plain text for the last paragraph reads:

Warning: Do not use this to get back at teachers/institutions that you just don't like. Unless they are both conservative (or apologists) and also do not teach CRT, do not target them. Otherwise you are delivering to the Republicans exactly what they want.

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

rant abt my family - personal;

tw abuse, tw manipulation, tw emotional abuse

okay I usually don't post stuff like that on here but I just came from Easter brunch at my father's house and I am so pissed off and hurt and upset and I'm pretty anonymous on here, so I'm just gonna release this into the tumblr void and leave it there. might delete it later though.

I am so sick and tired of being disrespected, ridiculed, dismissed, criticised and underappreciated in the very house I grew up in. From start to finish, today, it was horrible. I'm a Christian, I believe in God and in Jesus. My family doesn't. I went to Bible School for a year and learned about so many historical (I mean proven, historical) facts, about Jewish Culture (the culture Jesus Christ was born into) even a bit of Hebrew and Ancient Greek. I graduated with excellence and am very respected in my spiritual community even though I'm barely 20. And yet, my non-Christian work colleagues show more respect to my opinion and my faith than my own father and brother. We were celebrating EASTER. and they dare try to dismantle and attack my believes?

but it was more than that. I told my father I might get a chance at a assistant manager position at my job. I've been excited about that for months. His only reaction was to ask me when I intend to start studying (I already studied at the bible school but I also want to study something else still). Because he wants me to start as soon as possible and he's scared this opportunity might keep me at this job longer, preventing me from moving away for my studies. Again. I have a month left until I turn 20. I have all the time in the world, yet he rushes me to accomplish certain things in his time frame.

I told my family I have the opportunity to release a book consisting of my poetry. I told them I was invited to speak at a night of poetry and spoken word. The only person who was even remotely happy for me was my mother. These are great opportunities but the only way I got my dad to comment on that was to ask for his thoughts personally (and he isn't exactly a man of few words. he has an opinion on everything). one of his thoughts? he isn't necessarily interested in poetry. my brother said absolutely nothing about it. just changed the subject the first chance he got.

there were whole periods where my mother and I had to stay entirely silent because the men were discussing "important political things" and we couldn't get a word in edgewise. and believe me I tried. But when I interrupt them it is disrespectful. Of course it isn't when they do. And when I tell them I feel disrespected they need an explanation and an argument as to why, because naturally, they didn't do anything, did they? they are simply discussing things. I'm just emotional and dramatic, aren't I?

these men were trying to convince me that gun control wouldn't do anything to stop mass shootings. they were trying to argue that looking at our situation over in Europe and comparing it to the US wouldn't do any good. They said Of course there is more shootings in America. It's a bigger country. (THEY ALSO HAVE MORE GUNS PER CAPITA ASSHOLE. THAT'S THE REAL ISSUE)

I know that I am an intelligent, accomplished, educated young woman, who is starting to make a name for herself in the artistic part of her community and that my accomplishments are certainly worthy of note. but everytime I spent time with my family I feel disrespected, stupid and worthless. And I am so sick of it. I am so tired of these Trump-Supporting, Andrew-Tate-Listening, Racist Sexists. If I had the choice to cut them off fully, trust me I would. I'm just so fucking done with these pricks.

[mercury-waters]

i rarely engage w/ voting stuff on here, cuz i know that people disagree with me and i'll j get dogpiled, but this one i just feel like i have to.

i have worked on three INDEPENDENT grassroots campaigns - two election, one issue - and we won all three. They do work, actually, and can definitely overcome such limitations as internet connection. on the third campaign i worked on, in which everything was against us, we actually stood outside under tents in the rain and convinced residents to register to vote and mail-in their ballots on the spot.

it is absolutely true that either trump or biden will win the 2024 election. no argument there. but you are kidding yourself if you think that voting for Biden or any Democrat is keeping marginalized people safe. I've heard people say a lot that even though Biden does nothing for trans people that's "better" than Trump (Biden has actually eroded trans rights too, to say nothing for his fuckin atrocious immigration policy and racist policing policy), but that's really only a valid argument if you're looking at everything in a complete vacuum. In reality, Biden and the Democratic Party have at every moment emboldened the right wing – hell, they are the ones who elevated Trump in the media in 2016, hoping to get Hillary Clinton an easy competitor in the general election. If you really feel that you need to vote for Biden in order to sleep at night, I won't argue with you – but if you keep choosing the "lesser evil" every single time, things only get more and more evil.

An independent left-wing candidate is not going to win this election (unless like a mass movement erupted like, tomorrow, which would be pretty rad but unlikely). But we have to think about not just "this election" – the logic that keeps us trapped with two shitty political choices Every Single Damn Time is to just think about today. We need to fight for an independent left party that actually stands for real people, working-class and marginalized folks.

There are two good anti-war candidates on ballots this year; Jill Stein with the Green Party and Cornel West, an independent. Are they gonna win? No. But consider, if they BREAK RECORDS by getting, let's say, even 15% of a national vote – which would be the first time that happened in this century – that changes the situation dramatically. People start seeing the possibility of independent politics, that they aren't alone in the way they feel, and gears start to move to organize this energy. We can start to build something new.

You know how that doesn't happen? By voting for somebody you hate, to "stave off fascism". Every single fuckin election.

Here's a lesson about fascism. In 1932, there was an election for President in Germany, incumbent Paul von Hindenberg versus Adolf Hitler. Everybody supported voting for the lesser evil, and hey, it worked! Hindenburg won the election! Crisis averted!

Except it didn't. Hindenburg himself appointed Hitler as Chancellor shortly after. Guess what happens next.

If you really wanna vote for Biden, I'm not gonna be an asshole about it. But do not convince people that voting for a candidate who has politics they actually like doesn't do anything; it actually does. Don't convince people grassroots campaigns can't win, cuz they can. And for the love of god, don't tell people that voting for "the lesser evil" will stop the greater evil from gaining the upper hand, because historically speaking, that has never been true, and it sure as hell won't be this time.

I'm not gonna tell you how to vote, BUT...

Here are some truths about the upcoming United States election.

Either Trump or Biden will win.

Our political system is designed around ensuring that either the Democrat or the Republican win. There is no "but if everyone rallies around a third party candidate..." argument, because...

Grassroots campaigns can't work. There are areas of the country that don't have internet or television. Congress just allowed the Affordable Connectivity Program to lapse, denying internet to even more people. There is literally no way for some candidates to get their message to huge parts of the country.

The Republican and Democrat candidates are backed by huge donor machines that enable them to tour a campaign trail. Independent candidates do not have this luxury.

Our country still uses a First Past the Post (FPTP) voting system, which is specifically designed to support only two candidates.

Our country uses an electoral (all or none) system, which is why you hear that voting for a third party candidate "takes votes away" from one of the major party candidates. For example, if Trump gets 48,999 votes, Biden gets 50,000 votes, and a third party candidate gets one single vote, Biden takes all the electoral votes in the state. All of them.

I really hope you make your peace with this now. Please, vote how you want, but with one candidate saying he will essentially outlaw transgender people, I can't imagine NOT voting for the only other candidate who can possibly win. Right now the polls are 50/50, which is absolutely insane to me.

In my experience, it's usually younger people who talk about either voting their conscience, or not voting at all to "send a message." I assure you, not voting doesn't send a message to the candidate who loses. Your message is only received by the millions of Americans who will suffer as a result.

I don't want to argue. I have no desire to fight with anyone over this anymore. And if you want to ask me "so I have to choose between two killers?" as a gotcha, then I'm sorry to say... The answer is yes. Those are the choices we've been given. And because the United States is no longer a true democratic republic, there's not a whole lot we can do to change that right now.

[dearyallfrommatt]

A hole that's never to be filled.

A friend of mine's dog is dying. He and his husband are having his wiener dog put down later today as his advanced age has made his many infirmities too much to bear. It happens.

I've known this guy on the internet for as long as Waf's been in the picture. We knew each other way back in the days when blogs were the place to be an absolute asshole to people who can't slap you. Liberal politics, but we had a good bit in common. Two weirdos from the worst the rural South had to offer in the '80s.

The way my friend talks, as much as a square peg I was, his was way worse on account of being gay and I can't argue with him. He's pulled a full-on Thomas Wolfe and lives with his husband in the Big Apple. What love I have for my little village's corner of the world I do not push on him nor does he pull.

I wish I had something better to say to him. Otis was probably the last thing that kept me hanging on. He died and I quit writing my news blog, I quit messing around with harmonicas or paying attention to music, and I really quit giving too much of a shit about what previously grabbed my attention.

Namely, politics and video games. Video games became mere background noise like bad movies and Lovecraft pastiches of dubious quality, so that's a story for another time. Once I get my head wrapped around it, I'll get back to you.

As for politics, well, I'm just tired. We've had a microscope on the American Political Machine - including the media, all media, that coves said machine - and I really don't think we've learned a single thing. Not about how the government works or what the media is even supposed to be, nothing. I hate to be almost cliched, but look who's running for president come November and ponder the important issues of the day, and tell me we - as a culture, as a people, as a nation - have learned a goddamn thing.

But so much for all that. The end came and for once in my life, I didn't try to grind it out until it started to work. No one read my news blog except for my brother for news about Mississippi and my ex whenever Facebook reminded her. I never received one response and none of my visitors were able to convince me they weren't digital ephemera.

Maybe losing Otis gave me an excuse. I quit the gym not long after because I wasn't able to make myself go. I quit talking to both my therapist and the pysch doc because I'm tired of talking to people, especially about my general depression and the specific disinclination to hang around longer than necessary. Hell, it was around this time my teeth passed the point of no return. Keep up your orthodontal health, brethren.

The therapist asked me to come up with three reasons to stay in this world and I could only come up with Momma and Otis. The dog, of course, is easy. I took him on a responsibility and never found anyone better to take over the job. As for Momma, well, as rough as her life has been - and rougher than it needed to be for anyone and for no good reason - I figure she didn't need to spend her declining years wondering why her eldest son and favored child couldn't stay in this life anymore and what she did to cause it. It ain't her fault, but you know how mommas are.

But that's all I've got. It's recently occurred to me that my lifelong restlessness - always stymied by my fathomless laziness - is because I've never really had any ambition or goals or, really, dreams. The whole writing thing is partly ego and mostly because it's the first thing I ever did that someone told me, "Damn, Matt, that's really good." Otherwise, man, I just like to read and thought it'd be an easy gig.

Called that one wrong. Pay attention to your Uncle Matt, kids. Always remember that no matter what you do, the bills have to be paid and they never stop. Just something to consider.

But these days? It occurred to me that I have the perfect set-up. Someone's paying my bills and I am finally free to do... what? If there was something I wanted to do, I'd be doing it. If there was somewhere I wanted to be, I'd be there. If there was someone I wanted to be with, I'd be with them.

There isn't. There aren't any stories I want to tell, either, and since there's nowhere I want to go and no one I want to talk to - and I don't want to talk to anyone about anything anyway - I'm not getting any stories to tell. I really should sit Momma down and make her tell me the History of Peaceful Valley (According to Mr. & Mrs. C. B---). If nothing else, it'd be colorful and with her, it's gone forever.

But I just don't care. I don't care what I eat for supper tonight. The next book, the next game, the next movie, the next documentary, the next bowl, it's all static to drown out the dark voices in my head. I don't care what my brother does with the current jigsaw puzzle of his life. I trust him, he's smarter than me, and he'll do the right thing for him, so luckily, I don't have to care.

I care about making Momma happy and basically, all I have to do there is be pleasant and unproblematic. That's a chore in itself, I don't know if I could manage much else. I guess I should count my blessings that no one is asking anything out of me. It's lonely but I'm used to lonesome.

[angelphylaxis]

Last ten character building questions for miles

You sicko but damn if I must then so be it 😩✌

Putting it under a readmore because damn i be milesposting

48. Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

I would say luna (his wife) but honestly that has been proven wrong thus far - if only because the things he abhors/doesn't wanna do are horrific things like "don't be mean to your squire" and "eat your vegetables". all the women in his life with his best interests at heart would be hard pressed to convince him but it wouldn't be impossible. like he MIGHT do it if they annoy him enough about it but he's gonna be a bitch the entire time.

49. Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

Never in a million years, unless the world depended on it. even then?? Man barely touched anything other than white bread for 10 years.

50. What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

I personally condone everything Miles has ever done and will ever do. He is a perfect moral pillar and always acts rationally forever.

(Miles may be Just Like Me FR but man he does forget about the rammies bro. Fantasy is a fun vehicle for you to fuck around and find out without consquences - greatest hits include stealing a dragon egg, telling a celestial creature to eat a guy, walking up to an angry dragon without armour on, selling a guy to a dragon, flirting with cerulean, playing uno with a horse. list goes on)

51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?

"Darling" in every conceivable way. I don't think he has any other catchphrases, aside from, "have you considered joining a union"

52. Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

When i made him miles was always supposed to be the cool calm collected emotionless aloof guy but man did that not happen at all. I will say he does put on a brave face for stressful situations but ANY slight on him absolutely destroys any mind for reputation or coolness. Just ask him about blueberries.

53. Who would / do they believe without question?

Weirdly I would think he would believe Palar (or other villains) without any hesitation, especially in cases where he's particularly heinous and asshole-ish. Any confirmation that he is as sick and twisted as Miles thinks he is and he's bought in 3000%. Ironically I'm a very trusting person but Miles is a Doubter(tm)

54. What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

I had to look up what fawn meant in this context and whoo boy is miles a fawner. The more he ingratiates himself the more he's rubbing his hands together like meheheh they are right where i want them. And then he can go back to his WIFE and complain about them. He's done this at least four times in game so far.

55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If i dare split this up into the stages of his life I think the answer would probably be the same.

As a squire/knight in training he hated anything to do with glory or praise. Mostly because it would just get him bullied but he considered that shit pompous and cringe.

As a playboy/sex worker he disliked the sex part itself. Catering to people and seducing them was most of what he enjoyed, either as a ego-stoking measure or simply to pick up customers.

Now i think he rather hates being the hero. Man helps people as a means to an end (getting through the day) but boy it's a hassle. Can't people save themselves every once in a while. Why does he have to do it all the time?

56. If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

It's happened several times in game now where Miles has some sort of horrible world-shattering fear that he's been confronted with and every time he has an overwhelming need to be comforted by the woman who raised him. Not to say his beloved wife can't, but mummy issues are something else.

57. What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

Boring answer? Digestion. Can't feed himself, can't cook, can barely eat, don't even get me started on his movements. Dry as a desert down there. I don't have much of a fun answer I guess he sucks at being nice to people.

58. How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

I don't remember if Miles has any hobbies at all that aren't just. Reading cool stories about heroes. He's a sucker for an unlikely hero. Other hobbies include childcare and being a feminist.

[ramblingzombpossum]

Last night I got to play Burning Wheel, it's a fantasy Greek Setting with big Avatar the Last Airbender vibes.

My character was unexpectedly (we the players and GM agreed to it right before the decision in game), declared the Arch-Mage, and since then she has done everything she can to stay neutral, calm, and not start worsening the wars between the city-states.

A lot has happened, and last night's game she decided she was tired of just letting fate and other's dictate what she does, instead, she convinced her man (an Enkavman Soldier who had spent years trying to woo her in Kentriko, but she never reciprocated because she didn't want to get hurt again, but after all they've been through, she absolutely has fallen) to go ahead of the caravan they're with to get to Enkavma early so they can spend just a little time together where she is not 'thw Arch-Mage, beholden to the people and responsible for the world' but instead JUST Cassandra as she was back in her home village.

Sebastian was giving her a tour, and because no one knew who she was, she got a real good look of what the problems of the city are.

Including the lower part of the city flooded and many of the families forced out of their homes. Many of the families sleeping on the streets, because the inns are all full. Guards walking the streets and waking people to get up and moving so that they are not there when the Arch-Mage shows up (you know, it'd look bad to have that kind of a problem.) Which nearly came down to her getting arrested because she hadn't gotten much sleep, since her only coins are Trokosi, which they don't accept because war hate, so her and Sebastian wound up sleeping on the street as well. (Boy that's going to be a fun thing to deal with.)

Since she was on the streets she was able to talk to some of the others, get a good inside perspective from the people, and not just the Politics of the city (she made that mistake in Trokos, and has some regrets.)

We ended the session with Melanion, the other player, leading the caravan into Enkavma, as everyone panics, because where the fuck is Cass, what the fuck are they going to do?

He failed to impress the Archon, and tried to be like "She is secretive..."

As Cass walked out of the crowd without thought, because there was a fucking wizard present, and she's never met a wizard.

So our ending notes were him declaring she'd been among them, and she greeted the Archon, apologizing for coming in unannounced, though she never stopped staring at the wizard, because holy fuck, he may be able to help teach her more.

I cannot wait for the next session in 2 weeks! Cass and Melanion are one of my favorite games.

The dynamic is super fun.

Cass is a quiet failed acolyte, as she never got to finish her training. She was called back to Kentriko when her father died at sea, so she could take care of her younger brother Perseus (who was the original Arch-Mage candidate.)

Melanion is a head strong carpenter apprentice with dreams of grandeur. He has been training all his life to one day compete in the games, even though no one knew if the games would ever return, because the Arch-Mage was unknown/missing for 20 years. He is very much a Greek Hero, and loves the adoration and attention.

Perseus, despite being an NPC, has been a very key character. Not only is he Mel's best friend, but he is the reason Cass sold her house, quit her job, traveled to Trokos, and was declared Arch-Mage because he didn't want to stand alone in the deciding. Perseus is a headstrong asshole a lot of the time, who Cass has always had some jealousy and bitterness towards, because their dad preferred him, not only for being a male but also because Cass looks much like their mother, and it hurt him a great deal.

I could probably go on and on about the game so far, last session was one of the few Cass heavy sessions, and I really enjoyed that. Usually she kind of floats about, but I'm trying to make my beliefs much more solid to help give her more backbone in the game.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

That last ask about the Sy vignettes made me think about something, sorry if its a silly question😅

Anywayyyy, we suppose (except for HOS😭) that in all of your stories reader ends up with the *insert character of your liking😂*, so in a long period of time, and this goes for the series but also for real life situations,

how do you call them? Life partner? It sounds so long, boyfriend? Not sustancial enough for the love of my life😂 Just their name? I call my bff for her name and yes everybody who really knows me knows who is she but idk still not kinda important enough?😂

Like this is one of the things as stupid as it sounds that i kinda like about marrying someone, when talking about them you dont have to say their names cause everybody knows who you’re referring to, and again, sometimes it sounds like a label and more so a possesive label, especially in this sexist society, but it fits i think?

Finally I love how determined your idea of marriage and kids is regarding to what you want, i think we’re about the same age and i cannot have a strong position when it comes to those things cause it is SO deeply and strongly ingrained in our society, and in my family, the idea of getting married, and especially for a woman🙄, to have kids (“You only fully develop as a person once you are a mother” Quoting my fucking aunt), that idk if my doubts are of truly not wanting to get married or thinking about wanting that cause of how much the social pressure is. Damn, this got long sorry

post being referenced

OK. This is a very fair question.

And when it comes to my actual fics, what they call each other when they're not married really depends on the character:

For Syverson specifically, I think he would just call Y/N by her name. And I don't think he would have an issue with continuing to simply call her his girlfriend. But keep in mind, they're around the same group of people that have known them for a long time. And they're nosey neighbors/family who love to gossip, so everyone would eventually know that they don't have plans on getting married.

For my Steve Rogers fics, I think he would call Y/N his partner in conversations with people who didn't know her and when he was introducing her to people.

For Bucky Barnes, he would say girlfriend when he's being normal and polite. But if he was being cheeky, he'd say cute shit like "my better half" or "my left arm" or something ridiculous like that. He would like seeing people's confused faces. And it's his way to be funny while also subtly keeping his personal life a secret, because most people don't ask him to elaborate.

For Jason Todd, he'd say something dramatic, but romantic, like "consort." But when he was being an asshole and trying to mess with Y/N, he'd introduce her as "my roommate" to people. And Y/N would slap his arm and say, "Jason! Stop calling me your roommate." Then smile at them apologetically and say, "I'm his girlfriend."

For Dick Grayson, he'd just simply call Y/N is girlfriend. And he says it so proudly. Even his tone when he says it makes it very clear to people that it's very serious relationship.

For Damian Wayne, he'd straight up call Y/N his "lover" when introducing her to people – completely straight faced and confident. People would kind of blink in surprise, waiting for him to show some indication that he's joking. But Damian Wayne is not the joking type. Sometimes Y/N gets embarrassed just because it makes other people uncomfortable. Americans are such squares and the term "lover" sounds far too passionate for most people to casually hear in conversation. So sometimes she can convince Damian to call her his "partner."

For Bruce Wayne, he'd just fully call Y/N his "wife" – whether they were actually married or not. He thinks it's hilarious how panicked journalists get, trying to figure out if he got secretly married or not. And the media would lose their minds that he managed to possibly pull off a secret wedding with absolutely no one spilling the secret. When he's messing with people even more, he'll call Y/N "the missus" or "Mrs. Wayne" or any other ridiculous thing stupidly rich men and finance bros say to other men.

I would also like to point out that my sister and my friends that are married never call their husbands "my husband." They say their husband's names. Because we all know them personally and know who they're talking about. I actually pointed out to my sister that I had never once heard her say "my husband" in conversation – even as a bystander to a conversation I wasn't a part of. And she admitted that she found women who constantly said "husband" super annoying 🤣. But also they were together for a super duper long time before they got married, so that probably had a hand in it, too.

And I will admit that the idea of a hypothetical man calling me their "wife" sends a chill down my spine. It makes me gag. 🤣 Ya'll can psychoanalyze that all you want... But I just hate everything about it. And I have no desire to call someone "husband." It all feels so archaic and weird. I can't.

p.s. your aunt sounds like the worst and i think i want to slap her.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Gotham Villains x Hotel Owner!Reader || Headcanons

Explanation / Topic: You run one of the cities dingy hotels except this one, in all of its glory, is only ever visited by bad guys. Your hotel is well known as the place rogues hide away in when they're planning or they're just out of action for a while because you refuse to give up information to the police no matter what (Its proprietor-client confidentiality! Ha ha) and you're treat them fairly (Although- on the kinder side of course)

These are the many ways they show their gratitude, no matter how small.

Character involved: Most, if not all, of Fox Gotham's rogues. Except Ra's Al Ghul because he bores me. Nevertheless, not just the Legion Horrible's like the picture might lead you to believe- that's just the picture with the most villains that I could think of.

Warnings: Probably too much fluff. I'll make a sequel to this with the less-then-pretty, nitty grotty details of this hotel too probably XD

Barbara likes to invest every now and then, "Just making sure my affairs are in order baby- gotta make sure my hidey hole's still there when I need it." but she always adds a little something for you to buy yourself 'something pretty' (Since your style is SO plain, according to her but then again who isn't plain compared to her XD). This little something is always upwards of a hundred dollars. She's such a sugar mommy you cant convince me that she isn't-

Butch (Or Cyrus Gold, or Grundy. he has too many names) has made it clear that if you ever need help, you can always call him and he'll be there. Very gangsta about it. He's such a big, tough guy but such a softy on the inside XD When he had Grundy brain, he still had some kind of tracker in his mind like dogs do that took him 'home' (To your hotel), dragging Ed along with him. He gave you a big, bone crushing hug when he got there.

Dr Strange is not allowed in as he'll steal your guests and experiment on them.

You don't know Ecco too well yet and vice versa but when she turned up with Jeremiah and Jervis- you definitely appreciated her presence more then that of Jeremiah's. You were still sore over Jerome and didn't trust this new brother. Still, you complimented the bullet in Ecco's skull, saying it was pretty cool, and now she loves you XD When she's in the neighbourhood she occasionally likes to pop in and say hello; Spread a little chaos, you know the deal.

Honestly you probably new Bridgit long before Strange forcing upon her the heat resistance thing and her becoming Firefly. She of course didn't remember you but soon *warmed* up to you after you gave her one of the few rooms with a fireplace and easily forgave her when she accidentally set the couch in her room on fire (I mean its for sure not the worst thing that has happened within these walls- no worries). She has been known to go around lighting the fireplaces for you under the pretence of having fun (Which is true) but also so that you can worry about one less thing. Firefly is also one to come chat with you if she's bored.

Fish Mooney obviously doesn't stay with you very often at all, because this lady can find better dwellings (As, no offense but your hotel is kiiiiinda dingy. What can you do about it, though? You house rogues and a lot of them don't have a lotta money) but she still absolutely appreciates what you do. She'll send bad guys that she does business with that have deeper pockets then your usual client, your way. She's also kind to you, which to me is even better honestly haha XD

Headhunter stays with you a lot when he's on business and often reminds you that you get a discount from him if you require his services. Hey, you keep him in milkshakes! He's gotta repay you somehow.

Okay, the twins. You knew Jerome first and got off to a bad start with Jeremiah due to that. Still, we aren't talking about relationships; We're talking about nice things. So moving on. Just assume that you warm up to the brainier twin.

These two are hard XD Cuz their 'good' and 'bad' sides kinda blur together as they're so unpredictable and don't really care about anyone.

Still, I can see Jerome being pretty light with you and valuing the fact that you can keep up with his banter- so he keeps you alive. You're basically his mother actually, despite the possible lack of age difference. Like, he wants to show you stuff he does and tell you about chaos he's created.

And Jeremiah honestly appreciates that you'll listen to his long speeches (You've gotten pretty good at just sitting and nodding your head and you've perfected the art of the well placed understanding noises like 'Hmm' and 'Ah!' and 'Oh dear' in your line of work)- so obviously, you're invaluable to him. Must keep you around. I mean, Ecco listens, but does she really understand? That is the question.

When he's around, Jervis is very polite and gracious. He'll duck into the kitchens after dinner and start helping you with the dishes and clear dining tables, he'll ask you how you are and mean it (Like, he'll stand there and discuss it with you), he'll try to keep Jerome from barging into your room in the early hours of the morning, etc. Just nice things like that ^^

Magpie tries not to steal from you... Haha XD Like, she'll pick up a pretty clock off a mantle piece and then go to leave with it... then realise that this is yours and go 'Oops!!' and put it back, giggling nervously.

... When she leaves you still find various items from other places in the hotel, in her room, but still. The fact that she tries is enough!

Mr Freeze is a pleasure to have around, of course!! He's quiet, he nods to you when he passes, and he's there to freeze assholes that harass you (And then take them outside so they don't melt all over your carpet). A respectful dude. He has frozen Jerome multiple times... particularly when Jervis has been unsuccessful in persuading him not to wake you up at 3 in the morning.

Ivy gets so happy whenever she sees you. Lots of hugs and telling you all about how she's been. Her energy is enough to cheer you up, and on your birthdays she always brings you a new plant that has meaning to her. Like, a sunflower for how kind you are, a Ficus for abundance, etc. Always in a pot of course, never dead. So of course, you have to take care of them but its a small price to pay for the sweetness ^^ And the not being murdered thing.

Like Mooney and Barbara, Oswald doesn't stay often due to having that mansion from his father but he remembers your kindness from when he would fall on hard times before that (And after the fact, too of course) and whenever he's making some kind of mafia deal he always ensures your and your hotels safety in the contract.

Pyg / Lazlo (I cant decide which name I like best XD) is just very polite, like Jervis. Gentlemen. Also his impressions- God. Have fun with that. He might just do your favourite Looney Tune character if he's in a good mood.

With Ed... look, if you even try with his riddles without being prompted, he'll do anything for you. It's well documented. I'm not sur about nice deeds, cuz Riddler's kind of a dick, but he'll for sure send you a birthday card every year! Christmas probably too ^^

Scarecrow: I will not spray you today. You: Gee thanks. // No but seriously, he's quiet about his gratitude but he is definitely once of the good ones ^^ Would absolutely take it upon himself to come save your ass if you got abducted.

Tabitha... well, you know how Headhunter will you get a discount if you want someone killed? Tabitha will do it for fucking free.

Hey, if you feed Victor (Zsasz), you have a friend for life. He will bring pizza and just hang out together. He is also willing to murder someone for you.

[gothicprep]

"The Power of Positive Thinking" (self-delusion) can be insanely powerful. it gives you an increased willingness to take risks, willful ignorance of negative potentials. 99% of the time it gets you in trouble, 1% of the time you become kanye west. this is why people believe in it. success and fame, beyond just hereditary wealth, kinda self-select for these sorts of people, because if you don't have this trait, this belief, you'll just leave it to the realm of fantasy and get a normal job, and not end up like bulletball guy.

bulletball is a good example of what happens to the 99% of people who, whether some combination of ideology and innate nature, embrace this form of delusion, this Positivity Cult, Ideological Optimism, whatever we want to call it. bulletball is objectively stupid. any rational person would either never do it, or at least, pack it in a year in rather than give it decades of their life, wealth, and sacrifice their marriage. that's why he's a funny, fascinating guy, and became a meme. he made weird choices. yet you gotta have at least some of that same way of thinking in order to become... well probably a majority of anyone you ever heard of, whether a great athlete, artist, or world-historical figure. but if you have that brain, you risk blinding yourself to reality. and also being a colossal asshole.

a lot of us online seem like the opposite - absolute pessimists, depressives, people even if we believe in larger things, absolutely do not believe in ourselves. we tend to focus on what could go wrong. and it probably keeps us out of a lot of trouble. there are so many scams and possibly attempted murders I've not fallen for because I doubted myself, my impulses, my luck, my skill, appearances, other people's motivations, etc... etc... and I've gotten hurt when I didn't. and yet, we'll also never accomplish any of the things we seek to accomplish, personally, politically, whatever, if we can't take a longshot once in a while, and either get lucky or discover we were wrong about the odds in the first place.

I guess this all seems obvious but I'm fascinated by the conundrum, if in some sense we need to embrace some kind of self-delusion, or at least, act of faith or meaning-making, but not at the cost of reason, skepticism, and keeping our fucking egos in check. how you can convince yourself to take risks and challenge the odds and be, in a certain kinda neoclassical sense "irrational", without becoming bulletball guy, or worse?

fanatical belief in the self, in your goodness, and ultimate goodness of the universe, is central to liberalism and capitalism, and the venal narcissism it fosters in its subjects. it’s what allows the whip holder to smile as they snap their wrist, and whipped to smile in turn. so it naturally becomes something we reject and scorn, as symbolic of the terrible rulers of the world and the means by which they rule, and that's not wrong. it adds another complicating factor into how we look at this issue of positivity/optimism/benign self-delusion. ideology has constructed an artificial reality, fisher's capitalist realism, that shapes our sense of what is possible. to find what is really not possible, and what are mere false walls, what is stone & what is plaster, we need a willingness to throw ourselves at it & get bruised

and that's where I don't really have an answer or conclusion, just going in circles like Wallace Shawn trying to figure out which cup of wine has iocaine powder in it. of course, both cups are poisoned.