#thanks for playing and reading!!!!!!!!

[poll-ventures]

Perdition 1.1

Someone was gently shaking me awake. The room was lit with a soft, early morning sunlight, colored blue by the glass bead curtain that covered the open window.

My eyes fluttered open and closed. The plastered white ceiling of the apartment was unfamiliar. I wasn't in my bed. 

Of course not.

"Hey, Parker. Wake up." A woman's whisper.

"What?" I asked stupidly, smacking my mouth open and closed. God, my tongue was dry.

"It's time to wake up, buddy." A soft breeze drifted past me, bringing the smell of cold morning mist and spent gasoline into the small apartment. The glass beads of the curtain clacked gently.

"Mmph,” I groaned. My breath was horrible, and my ribs ached. I sat up on the couch, moving the scratchy wool blanket off of me. “What time is it?" Sam was crouched in front of me, looking out of the window politely. I replaced the blanket over my chest, shifting to sit up on the couch. 

"Five A.M.," she said, standing and turning to stare out of the window and into the street. A train passed above the road, and with the window open, its horn was near deafening. Sam walked to the window, closing it swiftly.

"Five? Jesus, why?" I exhaled slowly, hooking my binder back in place while she had her back turned to me. My ears rang in the comparative quiet.

A groggy, masculine voice spoke from behind me. "Because we both have work, and you can't just be in our apartment all day." Jack walked past the couch to the dining room table and placed two cups down. “Although, I wish you could.”

Sam turned around to face me, smiling tiredly. "So, sleepyhead. What's the plan?"

"Well, first, I'd like to freshen up,” I said. “Then, I guess, we can talk about a plan." 

"Sounds good," Jack said. Sam nodded, then sat down at the table with Jack.

I stood, half dressed in yesterday's wrinkled clothes. I folded and threw the blanket onto the back of the couch, then stretched, groaning. Walking to the bathroom, I could hear Sam and Jack start talking. When I closed the door, their voices became inaudible. 

The mirror greeted me. I looked like a mess, and felt like one too. I cleaned up quickly, splashing my face with cold water, the hand soap stinging at my eyes. I tamed my hair with a quick rinse of tap water, and washed my mouth out, which helped it taste a little less like the pits of hell. I left the bathroom feeling considerably more awake. Sam and Jack quieted, then turned to face me.

Jack was drinking a brown-green sludge from a glass, while Sam was sipping coffee while gripping Jack's hand on the wooden tabletop. The dice and character sheets of last night's D&D session had been messily cleared to one side while I was cleaning up, leaving a clear space for the three of us to discuss. One chair opposite the two was pulled out from the table, a clear invitation.

I held back, standing behind the couch, closer to the front door than to them. The blue sunlight flitted across the couch and the empty bottles on the coffee table just past it, illuminating particles of dust floating in the air. The silence hung heavy in the air. I took a breath in, and slowly blew it out, watching the dust fly in and out of the sun rays. 

"So," Sam said.

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry about last night."

"No!" Jack and Sam said at the same time. They looked at each other sheepishly, and Sam finished the thought. "It's okay. We've all been there. We were glad to help." Jack nodded.

"I really do appreciate it. I'll head out now, if that's okay."

Sam shook her head, standing and finishing her mug, which she held out to Jack. "No. How much do you remember from last night?"

I thought back. "Uh... We finished the session, did our shot... Danny went home, and then... Oh. I talked about my situation." I crossed my arms.

"That's putting it lightly. You were pretty much screaming, honey." She smiled ruefully.

Jack chimed in, taking Sam's mug. "What happened? If you don't mind me asking. I was asleep by then.” 

Sam looked towards me, questioningly. I nodded, still holding my arms to my stomach. "He lost his job and his home in the same day," she said.

"God," I moaned, bending over and into the back of the soft couch, face against the rough wool of the blanket. "It sounds so much worse when you say it like that." The couch muffled my words. I slumped down, knees on the ground with my arms over the back of the couch, chin up, so I could see Jack and Sam.

"That bites," Jack hissed. 

"More than bites,” Sam said. “Absolutely sucks. Did he even say why?" she asked, pushing her chair in.

"He who?" Jack asked, finishing his protein shake and heading to the kitchen to wash the cups. He put his hair into a quick ponytail. 

"My employer," I said, following him with my head and raising my voice, so he could hear over the running water of the sink. "I was a nanny slash tutor to a rich kid going to Somerset." 

His hair bobbed as he turned his head to the side, still focusing on the cups. "Sounds like good money then." He turned back to the sink, sighing. "Fucking Somerset kids. You know we beat them at every-"

"At every sport, yes dear. I'm sure Parker knows about your Ferret pride by now." Sam rolled her eyes, turning to me and sticking out her tongue in a 'isn't-this-guy-crazy' face. "Seriously though, they let you live in the house?" she asked. 

"Yeah," I nodded. "Emphasis on let. Apparently they found a better tutor. All my shit was on the front lawn when I came back from class."

“I bet they just got one of those new condo kids for a cheaper price,” Jack said. “Worst things that we’ve ever built, in terms of effect on the city. I’d rather work on another fucking ski lodge.”

“Probably. It’s all your fault, then,” I said, smiling slightly.

"They didn't even talk to you? No goodbye?" Sam asked.

"No, just a note. The girl I taught, Noel, was there though. She said I wasn't to blame, her parents were more mad at her than me.”

"What for?" Jack shouted.

"The usual reasons. I guess they thought I taught her more than just good ‘school knowledge’."

"Bullshit," Sam said. 

"Fuck that," Jack agreed.

"Yeah," I nodded, standing from the back of the couch, my back quietly cracking. "I just hope her parents come around to respect her as she is." 

Nobody spoke, the small cacophony of rushing water filling the room. Sam looked down, away from me.

"Well," I said awkwardly. "It's not like I get unemployment. All that work was under the table, and now I'm fucked, basically. Nowhere to go."

Jack turned off the water faucet, and disappeared into the kitchen, rooting around in a cupboard. Sam looked at me sheepishly.

"What?" I asked.

"Uh... That's not what you said last night," she said.

"Shit. How much did we drink?"

"A lot. You said that the liquids were the heaviest thing to carry, so you wanted to get rid of as much of it as you could before you left. I obliged." Her eyes flicked across the empty beer and wine bottles strewn across the love seat and coffee table. “Good stuff, too.”

"Sounds like me," I sighed. "Did I... What did I tell you?" 

Her lips made a line, and she blinked, then looked me in the eyes. "About your Dad."

Fuck. 

I crossed my arms again, gripping my elbows firmly. In the kitchen, Jack cracked ice cubes out of an ice tray and placed them in a cup, the clatter filling the silence.

"Ah. Sorry you had to hear all that," I managed.

“Nah,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. "It wasn't all that bad. I get it. You said he might be able to help, but that you'd rather-"

"Shove your hand in a box full of used syringes," Jack finished. "The imagery kinda stuck with us."

"Yeah, well..." I started, then faltered. I took a shuddering breath, looking out the window as I finally spoke. "He's an option. Not one I want to choose." 

"Okay, that’s our backup then," Jack said, quick on the rebound. He walked back into the living room, holding a glass of dark juice with ice in it. He held it out to me, and I took it, sipping it lightly. 

Cranberry juice. "Thank you," I said, grimacing slightly at the sour acidity. It was good. 

He nodded, returning to Sam's side. She sat as he approached, and he began to idly massage her back with his knuckles. "So, alternatives then. No vacancies in this building, sadly, but there's always a few on Main."

“Yeah, condos, condos, and more condos,” Sam said. “Pardon me saying so, but I don’t think our friend here has blue blood.”

I drank the juice carefully as they looked at me, then wiped my lips. "Actually, I have, uh... I don't have any money. No cash. Nothing in my bank account."

"Shit," Sam said. "Neither of our jobs are hiring, right hun?" She looked up and behind her at Jack, who shook his head solemnly.

"I used to work at the Trench. I think it’s hiring. A cafe down on Main Street," he explained, turning to me. 

"Oh, the one Lev works at? Shit, is it Lev?” Sam asked.

"Lena, last I heard," Jack said.

"It's a possibility," I said. "I have something lined up with one of my professors. Supposed to be really good pay, but I'm not sure I'll get it." 

"Wait," said Sam, cautiously holding out a finger. "Is this the same professor who's a vampire in disguise?"

"Huh? Wait, what?”

"That guy," Jack said, "You were saying he only holds office hours at night, classes only after the sun goes down. You've never got a good look at his face,” he said, moving his hands from Sam's back to make fangs with his fingers. “You know-"

"Vampire shit," Sam finished. She raised her arms, quickly replacing Jack's hands on her back without looking away from me.

"I... I guess that constitutes vampire shit," I said, taking another sip of juice and resting my other hand on the back of the couch. "Anyway, yes, that one. He's offering a job as a research assistant, and whoever writes the best historical essay of Old Hill gets the position."

Jack smiled. "I'm sure you'll get it, you big nerd. But if you need a back up, the Trench is always there for you. Not great pay, but Lena's good people."

"She used to be our roommate," Sam explained. "Jack met her working at the Trench." She was smiling too.

Jack's smile faded quickly. "There's a reason she's an ex-roommate, though."

Sam nodded. "She can be very quick to help, to make friends. Definitely a helper."

"Yes," Jack agreed, nodding morosely.

I finished the juice, then nodded once. "Noted. Well, sounds like a plan. Thank you guys, for everything." I stepped past the couch and placed the cup of lightly melted ice cubes down on a coaster, then went about cleaning off the coffee table. Sam stood, Jack and her both helping me collect the myriad bottles into a trash bag. A few moments later, we stood in a somewhat cleaner apartment.

"Okay," Sam said, moving past me to grab her coat and purse. "Let's hear the official game plan then. 'Cause you can't crash here again tonight." 

"Sorry," Jack said, smiling as he slid a heavy wool sweater over his head. 

I shook my head. "It's cool. I appreciate that you let me stay here at all. I know we've only known each other for a little bit, so-"

"Oh, hush," Sam said, shrugging into her pink down jacket. "It's been almost every week for over a year. You're our friend. Don't think we wouldn't let you stay if we could." Jack nodded, head popping out of his sweater.

"Thanks." I smiled. "Okay, plan. If I call my Father, I need quarters for the pay phone."

"Can't use your phone?" Jack asked.

"They've banned my number."

"Wow," Sam sighed.

"Yeah. So, I'd need a few quarters. Sorry," I said sheepishly.

They checked their pockets, jingling loose change. Both of their gloved hands deposited three quarters into mine. A dollar fifty. "Thanks again,” I smiled. “I'll pay you back."

Sam looked at me as if I were crazy. "And with interest," she mused. "I'll expect a whole dime extra!" Jack chuckled as he put earmuffs on, handing Sam her pair.

"Then, I'll talk to Lena. We'll see how it goes. Then later today... Maybe I get the assistant position, maybe I don't. I'll always have the cafe to fall back on."

"That's the attitude," Sam nodded, smiling, and wrapping me in a hug. "You've got this, Park. Just call if you need anything."

"Seriously, do call," Jack said with a smile and a wink. He patted my arm, his heavy glove on my coat sleeve, and stepped out into the hallway as Sam opened the door. 

I nodded, stepping out with them. Jack locked the door, and the two walked down to the nearest staircase entrance. 

“Same time next week?” I asked, still standing awkwardly in front of their door. 

“Always,” Sam said, smiling warmly with a wave. "Good luck!" she yelled, then disappeared behind the door into the staircase, leaving the hallway empty. 

I smiled, a soft warmth in my core as I headed for the elevators. I took a deep breath as I pressed the button for down. 

*****

The sun still hadn’t risen by the time I made it outside, and I was well on my way to Main Street downtown before it decided to peek above the horizon. The sky was fading from the light blue-black of a sunless morning to a bright pink of a full sunrise. It was beautiful, which helped me ignore the sharp wind slicing right through my too-thin parka.

The winter months had been kind to Old Hill so far, only blowing out three truly horrible snowstorms in December and January. Apparently, Father Frost felt it appropriate to fill the void with wind chills just above or just below zero degrees. I breathed deep, lungs swelling as I took in the beauty of the street, and the woods beyond it. Birds twittered on the electrical poles, and every minute or so, a car whizzed by.

Some folks, mostly commuters, felt the wind as a blessing. Others, like Noel, bemoaned the lack of snow days. I didn’t blame her, really. Who wanted to go to school when it was like this outside? It was much preferable to stay warm inside. I had to admit, though, there was a charm to the chill February wind, just as long as you have somewhere to go to leave it behind. 

After about fifteen minutes of walking, I could tell I’d made my way to downtown proper. The grain silos, woods, and strip malls of the cracked suburban roads had slowly been replaced by restaurants, condos, and coffee shops on the freshly paved Main Street of Old Hill. 

The light traffic rolled complacently through the two lane street, a wheel-on-cement hum accompanying the croon of an old man strumming a guitar just outside the White Picket Trench. He was right next to the pay phone I intended to use. A fresh coat of black paint adorned the payphone's metal shell, forgotten and painted over stickers adding a dappled texture to the metal.

Walking closer, I strained to listen to the old man’s song. I couldn’t make out the words he sang, but the harmony with the chords he strummed bled pleasantly into the air. He sat in a flaking white metal patio chair, his guitar case laying open in front of him.

Wrapped in a blanket with a coat and snow pants underneath, his eyes were closed as he leaned back, almost unknowing of the world around him. A slightly damaged cardboard sign was taped to the inside of the case, reading, ‘Homeless and Hungry. Every LITTLE Bit Helps, or Just Listen A LITTLE While.’ The case was empty. 

I stepped up to the payphone, and his eyes opened as I took the receiver off the hook with a metal clatter, the dial tone buzzing in a discordantly. He nodded to me, then closed his eyes again.

His muttering song turned into a hum, strong and throaty, carrying farther. He adjusted the guitar in his lap, playing just a little louder. I looked from the pay phone to the man, squeezing the six cold quarters in my gloved left hand.

[zorangezest]

3/3

i've been getting a couple asks if redraws were allowed and yes! i love seeing how my art is interpreted in different styles, go for it!

previous

phew! that's a lot of drawing...i'm going into hibernation now...

ive been working on this project for close to a month and i have to ask: what was your favourite moment?

[originalartblog]

@bsdfanweek's skk Valentine's week day 2: Camellias and Floral Troubles

Dazai's love life is so hard. This is in reference to my recent skk post!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I came here for the silly haha doodles, but I've stayed for the absolutely blazing commentary in the tags. Your analysis of this story is so so so good! Thanks for all the work and thought you put into this!

I am just a silly little comics blog. I am not hiding anything in the tags, no way. Never.

[saltedsnailstudio]

linocut on lokta paper

[visionsofmagic]

day 16: bruce wayne [power play]

࿓ synopsis • the game you play takes a different route in which you try to dominate him, but, he doesn’t allow you.

―❦ nsfw, dominance/submission, roughness, licking, marking, wrist holding, short, f!reader, brat!reader, riding, begging, pet names, ‘is all I guess? • 0.7k • he's my favorite dc character and the idea popped into my mind because he's looking so dom! enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“who’s in control now, love?” he asks as he pounds into you, hands holding yours above your head as your back arches onto his bare chest, filthy voices leaving you one by one since it’s too much to keep silent – he’s trying to gain it from you after all, wanting to make you scream his name louder with each of his deep, hungry thrusts that hit the exact spot that drives you crazy in every time.

the question is a reference to what you said before being in this situation; leaning down on the mattress, wrists inside his palms, breasts bouncing shamelessly and even hitting his chest from time to time, legs wide open, pussy soaking wet enough to make the white color of the sheets goes grey because of how much it is, legs shaking yet still having the strength to stay on his back, hugging him from there only to bring his body closer to yours as if it’s possible – as if he’s not already deep buried inside you, fucking you roughly because he has something to prove to you – to dig it into your pathetic mind as he said before.

he’s angry – a little bit, with the lust that flows inside his veins until it reaches the tip of his thick cock – using it to shove it into you mercilessly.

the feelings are there due to you – being a little brat and trying to take control while riding him a while ago, teasing about how his dick dripping, pale face is full of redness, breathtaking with a rapid way, and even sweating – only you can make the vigilante sweat like this – the reasons why he is rough now.

with the power you had at that moment, your body moved without your mind acknowledging it, making you look down at him, taking control, riding him so slowly to make him beg for you to move, to fuck him, yet, bruce who knows you better than anyone else, including you, understood what you were trying to do, especially when your hand tried to hold his neck – with sudden movement, he gripped your wrists, turning your body over, hovering above you as he mocked you – showing the dominance he has on you – not yours – his.

power play ended when he began to fuck you ruthlessly.

his question remains unanswered – he doesn’t seek one either, he just enjoys watching how messy you’re getting under him, ready to beg more when his hips slow down – and nearly stops as he fucks you leisurely, taking his time, and even having a ghost smirk on his face. 

and when you look at him, your vision is blurry yet witnessing his lustful expression, representing of the dominant side he has on you, you know he waits for you to beg – to cry. weren’t it for your aching pussy that is in need to be fucked by bruce, you would stay still, yet, you have no brain at all – only a greedy wet pussy and passion mixed with love.

“bruce –“ his name comes out of your parted lips on its own – pure instinct. “ohh – bruce!”

“yes, my pretty slut, what’s wrong?”

“move – aghh – please, move already! nee – ohh – need you to move!”

leaving your wrists free, his hands positioned on your hips, holding it strongly, ready to bounce into you with all his strength, his weight can be felt on you, sending a different sense of both pain and pleasure at the same time.

“look who’s begging now –“ he teases, kneeling down until his lips touch your neck, biting it – licking it so that he can leave marks on you- bigger and more efficient ones than yours that you left on his entire body before he took control. he enjoyed being under you, yet, the delight of having you under him is far greater than it. “tell me – that I am the one who is in control over you, not you over me,” he lowers down, licking and kissing your exposed body gladly, reaching until its tongue travels on your hardened breasts. 

pushing you against his hot tongue, you answer, feeling his cock leaving your pussy slowly, “you! bruce – ohh – you!” “good girl.” he says lastly, then, pushing his hip further, the cock fills your warm walls entirely with a powerful thrust and he doesn’t stop – he thrusts into you with a great pace and power that you no longer remember the power play – letting him do whatever he wants to do with you until he’s satisfied.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @chloee0x0 *lots of kisses!*

[polepositioned]

AYRTON SENNA / ALAIN PROST / THE MEDIA x mark antony's "friends, romans, countrymen" monologue from julius caesar by william shakespeare, act III, scene ii [ @cortinanights , @nicaeno , @sebsonism , @l0vagrend , @dafunzies , @28ms28 , @schumi-honey \ if you'd like to be tagged in stuff like this, tell me! ]

[miiversian]

[catabasis]

“Am I doing him right?”

[theswedishpajas]

Gay thoughts

[dotssu3]

i hc that cunoesse gets super into fashion as a way to set herself apart from cuno (they are NOT twins!!!). i feel like she would look up to cindy for fashion inspo…

[leupagus]

Guys I Might Have Three Nickels

I've been watching "Agatha Christie's Marple" for the past few days and it's pretty good! Marple adaptations all tend to have a better caliber of actors than a lot of bog-standard mystery shows (looking at you, "Madame Blanc"), and while Joan Hickson's Marple is right up there with David Suchet's Poirot and Jeremy Brett's Holmes as "literally can never be beaten, these are the best anyone's done it," both Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie do a fantastic job as Miss Marple.

Then I got to "The Secret of Chimneys," Season 5 episode 2

and guys

Guys

So there's a murder of a viscount, like there is, and this detective Finch rolls up and immediately spots Miss Marple (in her NIGHTIE! standing at the window like some kind of hussy, honestly Jane) and doffs his cap to her with that little smile that makes you go, "huh."

At this point I've watched a couple dozen Miss Marple episodes where she goes through detectives like wildfire and this guy's supposed to be a "*guru*" so I'm expecting some battle of the egos or something and like, Stephen Dillane is great! But bleh, I might have to skip this one.

Then my dude asks Miss Marple to SHOW HIM THE BODY, with a pleased little smile at her as she goes "uhhhhhhhh but my knitting?" (He even does that thing where you use someone's honorific and wait for them to give you their name, and that's when I was like "ohhh this bitch knows exactly who she is.") What follows is what I can only describe as a meet-cute in the secret passageway where the viscount was shot (and in fact the body is STILL THERE) and where Miss Marple literally asks the police equivalent of "is there a Mrs Finch" and he looks at her like this:

At which point I'm like "ohhh my dude not only knows who she is, he deliberately came here without a sergeant so he could draft her," and sure enough he just starts...handing her pieces of evidence like "hey babe can you decipher this note for me thanks love you" while Miss Marple is like, "this approval and camaraderie coming from a cop... not sure if want."

Next is a series of romantic strolls through the gardens while they discuss murder, during which Finch reveals his undying love I mean his research into Miss Marple and the "dozen case files" of her previous exploits that he's collected like some deranged fanboy. Miss Marple responds to this by BLUSHING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL and stammering about how pish tosh it's nothing really, and I couldn't find a gif of it but he's staring at her like this:

Yeah I bet u r tempted

He also makes a half-hearted attempt at negging her "amateur sleuth" status, only to then immediately assure her that he makes like, so much money being a big fancy detective and can keep her in all the yarn and garden seed she could ever desire.

There's also a late-night tryst at the compost pile right after Finch has been (mildly) poisoned and Miss Marple is like "men are so weak" as she roots through the garbage for clues.

Not how he wanted their first date to go D:

The next morning there's another murder which: bummer, but also allows the two of them to read love letters together and for Finch to give Miss Marple the following look as she explains how secret assignations among lovers can "quicken the ardor":

Miss Marple then goes onto solve the murders and btw hands over the priceless diamond that's been literally missing for two literal decades that she found in her spare time. The entire scene features Finch looking at her like this:

After the dust settles, Finch and Miss Marple have a lovely moment where he calls himself "another one of your casualties," then super casually mentions that he's probably going to have to go on assignment to use the diamond in a daring international espionage case and I can't decide if he's asking Miss Marple to go with him or simply trying to show her that he is cool and smart and would make an excellent wife, but either way the episode ends with her turning him down and Jane, we need to talk about your priorities.

Anyway I've already written 2K about the subsequent 10-year epistolary romance these two have following this episode because I make poor choices.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Danse Macabre

[Commission]

[lizzybeeee]

DATV Spoilers - The Handling of Previous Story/Lore In DATV

Quick PSA: If you’ve read my post on the lore/story threads dropped – it’s not a list of what I expected or even wanted to see addressed/answered in DATV.

It’s pretty much a given that Kieran and the Architect were never going to come back in any meaningful way, I understand that. Questions about what happened to Anora, Anders, Cullen’s clinic etc...never expected to get an answer about them – at all. The line of succession in Ferelden and Orlais? I expected that sometime down the line it would have to be streamlined into one option for both nations, not a problem – there’s so many choices it’s impossible to account for, and I understand that.

This is just a list of plot threads left unanswered that will, most likely, remain unanswered.

There’s no DLC planned – the team is working on Mass Effect 5 now. There’s no conclusion to the fate of the south of Thedas outside of some codex entries and some dialogue. They can patch the Executors cutscene out, maybe - perhaps they could even do the same to anything relating to the south of Thedas. Yes, these areas were not completely destroyed by the Blight – they can rebuild – but it comes across as being so meaningless that I ever cared for these places in the first place. To learn that after ten years of waiting all we cared for get devastated and left in limbo...it’s hard to put into words the bitterness I felt at that realization, and seeing that final cut-scene drove the nail into the coffin of how foolish I felt for even caring in the first place.

A codex entry or letter would have been nice – but my expectations for DATV was solely for a good story that added to the lore and world of Thedas. Instead, it felt entirely reductive – glaringly so when you account for the ‘Executives’ twist.

The world of Thedas has been watered down and its worldbuilding/lore diminished - slavery in Tevinter is non-existent, the Crows being an organization that indoctrinated children is never touched upon, any mystery of ancient Tevinter and the elves is answered (badly!), the Dalish have effectively disappeared and become the Veil Jumpers...it all feels so hollow, so shallow, that I ever cared about these things in the first place.

The issue is that the dev’s gave us only three choices, told us that as the story was contained to the north of Thedas – that our other choices weren’t relevant to the rest of the game with their intent being to not effect anyone's head-canons...before doing so with ‘the blight has devastated most of everywhere you went previously’.

These were story/plot threads that were woven throughout the narrative of the first three games – the things that made me care and become invested in the world of Thedas to begin with. In a game that was set-up to be a direct sequel to Inquisition and Trespasser I hoped that, at least, what was brought up in Inquisition would be mentioned.

Perhaps my list is a little too detailed with plot threads and issues – if anything that can be attributed to the incredible world-building done in the first three games! I love those games, I love the world of Thedas...which is why this game utterly baffles me with its choices.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game but not a good Dragon Age game.

----------------------------------

Edit: DATV absolutely has a lot of problems outside of its handling of the lore and story of the previous games. I would not say its a good rpg in any sense, but as a weird 'action-adventure rpg lite' game I did have some fun moments and enjoy myself. Would I recommend it to anyone? Absolutely not.

I heard someone describe it as a 'junk food' game and I very much agree with that statement. I found enjoyment in it, but to do so I usually had to turn off my brain, which is not a compliment towards DATV.

The game released very well optimized (especially considering how most companies are content to release half-baked games and patch them later) and did create some really interesting visual set-pieces like the Battle of Weisshaupt. But those moments I enjoyed were few and far between, and far overwhelmed by the negatives of the game - such as story, lack of conversation/conflict/role-play options, bad character writing etc...

Calling the game 'good' is, perhaps, a stretch, and I totally get that. Calling it 'mediocre with some good parts' may be more accurate.

[jadecantcreate]

i wanted to write a quick 3-chapter fic for day 4 of loa shiptober (how they met i think) and i (a fool) was like. yeah. i could totally write 3 chapters in a few hours. i was wrong. SO wrong. haven’t even finished kremy’s (the first one).

so instead have a maybe-past-kremy design that im conflicted about compared to his current design, as a peace offering

[mummer]

just saw asteroid city last night, pls explain the proposed significance of the kiss!!

answering this publicly hope thats ok! cant do a readmore im on mobile *****asteroid city spoilers below beware*****

i dont remember anyones names so this is gonna sound partly unhinged. okay so the edward norton playwright and jason schwartzman actor (not character, in the black and white parts) are lovers right. tbh i thought this was kind of a gag and forgot about it. but later we find out that the playwright died 6 months into the production. i didnt make the connection that THAT’s why the actor-jason has to suddenly leave the stage and freaks out backstage about how he’s not sure he’s Doing it right. hes not talking about acting!! because he himself is literally grieving his lover while he’s playing a character who’s grieving his wife written by his lover so obviously it’s too much!!! actor-jason is trying to find meaning in his death through his writing but there isnt any meaning in death [gerris drinkwater voice] which is what the play is trying to say anyway. he doesnt think he’s performing grief right even in his own life!!! (and tbh it’s the 50s so he wouldnt be able to perform grief publicly anyway!!!!) the play starts with a car accident… anyone would search for some hidden meaning there, some sign…. so when he talks to margot robbie outside it’s not really about finding the CHARACTER’s motivations it’s about the actor himself being able to process the playwright’s death! and adrien brody director was probably also dealing with that too (him and norton seemed to be good buddies) so the whole “sleeping backstage” thing gets a bit sadder maybe? maybe everyone else got this in the theatre and im just stupid lol but crazy making stuff to me!!! the whole story is about sublimated gay grief that cannot be expressed?!?!

the tweet that caught me onto this was here which posits that the playwright’s death was a suicide but i think that’s pretty stupid and unnecessary because the whole thing about the play asteroid city is that death is random and meaningless. im pretty sure that’s what the alien represents— a shocking and absurd event that isnt outright evil or menacing, not something anyone can predict or make sense of, it’s just a thing that happens to you out of nowhere, it doesnt mean anything. he’s a little black figure, he’s death! giving and taking! aagh