#this is the first thing I've finished in literal years

[postcardsfromheapside]

So I finished my DA2 replay, and I had wondered if I would feel differently after taking my time with it, and with the perspective of Veilguard. And yes, in small ways I do, but about the series and about Anders, I don't. That is to say: I think Veilguard is a fucking fantastic capper to the series (I mean, pray there is more, "hope for the best, expect the worst" as the Mel Brooks song goes), and Anders is relatably angry, even if the "betrayal" is frustrating and heart-breaking.

Also, there's just too much Dragon Age just the same way there's too much Tolkien, it's just that I can relisten to Tolkien via audiobook while I work and don't have time to constantly replay Dragon Age to absorb every little detail that my broken brain forgets (and I'm pretty good with lore) and I wish parts of this fandom were more curious than scathing about things they've obviously forgotten. Or skipped through, according to some of them, because I guess the context of dialogue and a cut scene isn't necessary for some of them to weigh in on things.

Word vomit of notes below the break:

First of all.

Can these two just fuck already. Watching Cassandra go from throwing him around to absolutely ENTHRALLED by Varric's complete bullshit is just going to make it so much better when I hit the "Guilty Pleasures" quest again in DA:I. This woman is SEDUCED by his story-telling, and you *cannot* convince me he wasn't gagging on his power trip.

Second.

I never played Mark of the Assassin before, and had completely forgotten Felicia Day was in DA2, and laughed like hell. I really enjoyed it. I haven't really used a stealth option in a game since leaving Skyrim for other stuff (do we ever really leave Skyrim?) and it was really fun, but I think the wyvern at the end of the DLC was actually the best fight in the entire game, even more than Corypheus. It hinted at the dragon battles to come in Veilguard. Also, I loved how Anders' dialogue got more relaxed outside of Kirkwall, like shedding the city let him loosen up. The back and forth with Hawke about his fantasy for being rescued was completely unhinged - after I accused Hawke of being feral and lacking social graces, I've decided the two of them match each other's freak and they're fine.

Third.

All the people who were losing their minds about the line "A crow never abandons a contract" and acting like the devs forgot Zevran.

He literally addresses it in the game. I keep having these moments where shit that people bitched about regarding Veilguard is addressed right *there.*

"The crows do like saying that, but I am living proof it's a lie."

No one actually forgot, but I'm sure the Dellamorte's wish to the Maker a motherfucker could.

When people complain the writing in Veilguard is too modern, I'm going to remember Hawke complaining exactly like this. She sounds like I do when I'm side-eyeing my friends in the year of our Maker 2025.

Fourth.

I had planned on romancing Blackwall this DA:I run, finally, because I'm a little obsessed with this Warden throughline from Anders to Blackwall to Davrin. From a cage, to hope/redemption, to a more meaningful path of positive change and impact.

They both haunt Veilguard's narrative and dialogue.

And then of course:

hrm.

Fifth.

I do hope we get another DA. Or supplementary material. Because I want to know what the fuck is going on with this story I had forgotten the details of, especially with the decision regarding the Nadas Dirthalen.

These two fucking idiots. I can't believe in different lives I've schtupped them both. (I can absolutely believe it)

Sixth.

The worst part of Meredith is she sounds like conservative family members of mine. 'Better to punish the innocent than risk even one guilty person go free', rather than the opposite. To them it sounds so reasonable. To us, it's abhorrent to punish everyone else for other people's crimes.

I couldn't bring myself to feel betrayed by Anders, even though I tried to play my Hawke as I think she would have felt: betrayed by the secret-keeping, if nothing else. The shock and hurt at the innocent lives. But it's hard not to feel an understanding when I sit here in a political situation with - maybe not less fraught, but at least less fantastical - implications and certainly still feel like violence is inevitable and we are way past the point of compromise and words.

Anyway.

This dwarf.

[ellaelsinore]

Corroded Coffin gets asked to be the house band for the local Hedwig production, clearly the only musicians skilled enough for a rock opera. Eddie didn’t think the show would be fun, but the music clearly rocks, the show is entertaining, it pays and it gives him more opportunities to perform. Costume even lets him wear mostly his own clothes, embellishing his battle vest further, not budging on the obscene amount of eyeliner they insist is “necessary to the plot”. Both Eddie and Steve kinda love it, even when Eddie looks like a raccoon the next morning. It takes all of his time for months, but by the end the boys are pretty proud of what they’ve accomplished and have learned a lot from the director and production staff about putting on a real show.

Steve comes to multiple shows, in the audience and backstage. He prefers being backstage, watching from the wings. He alternates between stage right and stage left, either able to watch Eddie from afar as he plays and dances and sings harmony, or right next to him so he can tell him how pretty he looks every break for the whole show. Eddie basks in the attention he gets from the community, the snobby theater crowd impressed by the skill of four heathens with guitars and a drum kit. The actor playing Hedwig tells them that they’re by far the most talented pit band he has worked with and will keep them in mind the next time he does a rock musical.

Eddie plays Wicked Little Town (reprise) every night like it’s the last time he’s going to play it. He studied the music for weeks, pouring over that particular song, first, because it’s the climax of the musical and second, it reminds him of Steve. Steve who is so much more than the stuck-up, pretty-boy jock he saw in high school. Steve who kept the party and himself alive and safe in the Upside Down, who picked up the pieces of a life that broke around him and built a new family with them. Who changed so completely that anyone from his old life would never recognize the man he had become, who sometimes didn’t recognize himself. Eddie wanted to be the voice Steve could follow, to rebuild this new life together.

Next Corroded Coffin show, Eddie plays a viciously emotional rendition of Wicked Little Town (Reprise), shirtless, black jeans low on his hips, jewelry shining in the stage lights. Robin and Nance made sure that Steve was front and center, Eddie dedicates the song to “his cosmic lover,” and plays to Steve like he’s the only one in the bar. Steve cries into Robin’s shoulder until Eddie slings his guitar over his back and hops off the stage, taking Steve’s face in his hands, kissing away the tears on his cheeks.

“You make this wicked little town worth every minute, Stevie.” Eddie kisses his forehead. “And you will never be alone again, never be a stranger, not if I can help it.” He pulls the ring box out of his pocket, not caring that they’re still in the middle of the Hideout and some asshole (Gareth) got them to adjust the spotlight to where the two men are standing in the pit. Not caring that the whole club has pulled back and is watching two men in desperate love, sharing in a moment that they should be grateful to see.

Steve laughs wetly as Eddie presents the ring, a woven silver band set with three sunshine-yellow stones, nodding before Eddie can even ask the question. “Steve Harrington, will you..” Steve crushes Eddie into a hug, whispering “yes” against his neck over and over. “You didn’t let me finish, Stevie,” Eddie laughs. Steve pulls back to look at his boyfriend, fuck, fiancé, and sees Eddie’s doe eyes misty and rimmed with red, but he’s smiling at Steve and god, Steve could look at him for the rest of his life. “Steve,” Eddie takes a deep breath, takes Steve’s hands in his. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, a million times yes.” Steve lets Eddie put the ring on him, before finally kissing Eddie. However wicked this town was, Eddie was his home, and together they would pick up the pieces and make a beautiful life for themselves.

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[piastrispastries]

Ok for the wrapped writing thing, 78? 👀

ok so this got away from me a little bit but song number 78 on my wrapped was fallout by catfish and the bottlemen! send me an ask with a number from 1-100 and i'll write a drabble based on what song it is on my spotify wrapped!

word count: 1356

In Year 6, Oscar had skipped school two days in a row. 

There’d been a book report on Charles Darwin due, and he hadn’t written a single word. Every time he thought about walking into his classroom that morning and explaining himself to Ms. Andersen, he felt stomach-churningly sick. She'd never been anything less than understanding about him missing a day for this or that karting race, but when he thought out their imaginary conversation about the missing assignment, he felt the urge to run as far away as he could. 

So on the day that the book report was due, he'd gotten up and left the house to walk to school just like he did every day, and when he'd reached the school gates, he'd just kept walking. 

He'd taken a left onto the street where one of the boys he played cricket with in the park lived, then a right onto the street with the park, then around the park a few times, then another right, and so on, until he'd figured enough time had passed that his mom had left for work and he could go back home. 

He kept telling himself that he'd write the report as soon as he got home, so that he could go into school the next day with it in hand, like nothing had happened, but when he sat himself down at the kitchen table to do it, he'd felt like the walls were closing in around him. So the next day, he'd done the same thing, walking straight past the school gates, and hoping that the repetitive motion of his steps would eventually drown out the rushing sounds in his head. 

The jig was up when his mum had gotten home from work that day, since Ms. Andersen had called her to ask if he was okay, but sometimes he wonders how long he could have kept going with that routine, whether he’d have kept skipping school for weeks on end just to avoid a conversation about a book report. Swiping away a call from Carlos for the third time that day, he thinks he definitely could have. 

He knows, objectively, that he’s overreacting to the interview quote. Carlos was just being Carlos—loyal, supportive, and giving the expected answer to avoid creating any distracting drama. He’d been asked a question about Lando, and naturally, he'd backed his friend. Oscar probably could have guessed how he’d answer, word for word. But hearing Carlos casually, without hesitation, say that he'd "back Lando to win out" in a potential WDC fight between him and Oscar had done something to him. Something that felt like a punch to the stomach, the kind that didn't knock the air out of you immediately but lingered, the pain gnawing at your insides.

Oscar had tried to brush it off, but the words kept echoing in his mind: I’d back Lando. Of course Carlos would. They were friends. Close ones. And they’d been friends for much longer than Oscar and Carlos had been sneaking around. 

Their relationship wasn’t anything serious—just a handful of late-night texts, a few stolen moments after races, something casual that neither of them had ever bothered to define. Oscar had never asked Carlos for more; the idea of it made his stomach twist—of asking for something that Carlos probably didn’t even want. So he let the feelings sit in the back corner of his mind, and went along with the easy banter and late-night conversations that never ventured too far into anything serious.

And he’s been good at acting casual so far. But it was something about the way Carlos had said it, so easily and so matter-of-fact. The words had lodged themselves into the spaces between Oscar’s ribs, poking at the fleshy parts of him any time he moved around. The feeling of being second-best, of being invisible under the bright lights of Lando’s shadow, crept up on him. The familiar, bitter taste of being overlooked.

He could practically hear Carlos’s voice from the interview now, the words ringing louder than they ever had in the sterile media room: "I’d back Lando to win out in that fight. He’s always had an edge in race craft, and I know he’s got more fight in him than he did last year."

Oscar doesn’t even bother swiping away when Carlos calls again, the screen lighting up with his name, and instead leans back in his chair as it keeps ringing. He remembers the feeling of walking past the school all those years ago, avoiding the thing that kept tying his stomach in knots. The moment where he had to face the fact that he wasn’t enough to make it all work on his own.

And he’s doing the same thing now, but his mum isn’t here to force him to write the report and apologize to his teacher.

He can almost hear the conversation that would happen if he picked up the phone. The gentle reassurance from Carlos, the apologetic tone he'd adopt, even though Oscar knows he’s probably slightly bewildered by the scale of Oscar’s reaction. But the truth is, Oscar can’t quite shake the sense that Carlos has made up his mind. That the decision of who to prioritize has already been made, and there’s nothing he can do to change it.

It’s a weird thing, this sense of never being first choice, not deserving preferential pitstop strategy or a moment of hesitation before being voted against, no matter how hard you try.

With a long breath, Oscar finally answers the call, the tension in his chest thick. "Yeah?"

Carlos's voice is already apologetic, soft, like he’s walking on eggshells. "Oscar, listen, I didn’t mean—"

"I know," Oscar interrupts, thumbing at a hangnail on his middle finger. "I know you didn’t mean anything by it, Carlos, but it's hard not to hear what you said and feel like... well, like I don’t matter as much as Lando does."

There’s a long silence on the other end. And then, quieter than usual, Carlos speaks. "You do matter, Oscar. You matter to me."

Oscar leans forward, screwing his eyes shut. "But did you only say what you did because it was asked in the media conference? Would you have answered differently if Caco or Teto asked you?"

The question hangs in the air, thick and uncomfortable. He can feel the weight of it pressing down on both of them. But it’s not an answer he’s really looking for. Not anymore. It’s just that he can’t help but ask, can't stop himself from wondering where he fits in the narrative that’s being built around the three of them.

But Carlos doesn’t answer right away. Instead, there’s a pause, and then the quiet admission. "I didn’t think about it like that. I’ll make it right. I’ll clear things up with the press—"

"I don’t need you to clear anything up," Oscar interrupts again, a bit harsher this time. "I just... I don’t want to feel like I’m the second choice. Like I’m the one you can overlook and then apologize to."

The line goes silent for a beat too long, and Oscar wonders if this is where it all falls apart. If Carlos is going to throw in the towel, decide that he has enough going on without Oscar further complicating his life.

But then Carlos’s voice breaks through, softer now. "You’re not a second choice, Oscar. You’re not. It’s just… it’s complicated sometimes. With Lando and me, with everything. But you’re not a second choice. At all."

Oscar exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders loosening, even though he knows things aren’t magically fixed with just those words. But maybe, for now, it’s enough to hear that. Maybe it’s enough just to know Carlos doesn’t mean to hurt him—even if it still stings.

"I get it," Oscar says finally, his voice quiet. "I get it." For the first time in days, the ache in his chest doesn’t feel so sharp. He can live with that.

"Come by my room later?" Oscar asks, his voice steady now.

"Yeah," Carlos replies. "I’ll be there."

[godofidea]

I'm so normal about Him

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)

aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao

(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)

[pen-papers]

Accidentally clicking QUIT instead on CONTINUE after finally reaching the top of Death Mountain in OOT

Remembering that there's the secret path back to Goron city through the Lost Woods

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[dramas-vs-novels]

Yeah... I remember seeing the architectural design majors at my uni having this breakdown each semester...

[louis-ii-reyes-strand]

it's totally still sunday... thank you @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @liminalmemories21 @carlos-tk for the tags today 🫶🏻

So, with the unusually mild weather and the non-stop nature of his recent schedule, Carlos was ready to dig out the original cookbook from his abuela and take a first stab at the stifado recipe– a greek stew with rich flavours that were sure to revitalise his energy levels. 

The box of cookbooks had been sat atop the breakfast bar since he had set up the small shelving unit he put together to hold them. Since he needed to check the ingredients list before he left, he told himself it made the most sense to finally put all of them away rather than dig through the box and leave it to continue to be an eyesore on his counter. But the more books he pulled out of the box, the larger his sense of horror grew. The bottom of the empty box stared back at him, almost gloating. He went through the books again, taking care to read each title deliberately, and when Simple Cooking: Global Cuisine still wasn’t to be found he went back to the box to check that he hadn’t somehow missed it. 

When it was nothing but an empty box, he scrabbled for his phone and quickly navigated to his recent calls page, silently begging every deity he could think of that Michelle would answer the call even though he knew she was in the middle of a shift. 

“Was Simple Cooking in the books you packed up last week?” He asked, not giving her time to berate him. 

“You moved two weeks ago and I’m in the middle–” 

“Please, Michelle.”

open tag and @bonheur-cafe @reyesstrand if you haven't already done it/ have something to share 🖤

[infizero]

im genuinely going to be INSUFFERABLE when chapters 3 and 4 come out like you have no idea.

[thevioletcaptain]

someday soon i'm going to post several 10k+ deancas fics on ao3 all at once because i'm deranged and didn't want to start posting any of them until they were complete, but that also means that they'll probably all be done at the same time. or maybe i should stagger them over a week or something. we shall see. anyway, lotta words incoming.

[emometalhead]

.

[miabrown007]

a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take

[seoafin]

ddao currently being at 40k words makes it the longest thing i've ever written im kinda in awe