I’m so tempted to play Inquisition again, but I know it’s going to end in me spending 10 hours in the character creator trying to give my Inquisitor a decent nose, running around the Hinterlands doing everything for at least 3 days, promising myself not to collect the shards and then collecting them all, trying to roleplay but selling myself out so none of the companions leave, accidentally jumping and throwing myself from cliffs, spending all of the Inquisition’s funds on lustrous cotton so that everyone matches, visiting the prison over and over on the off chance there’s a prisoner in there, never using a horse, pretending the Hissing Wastes don’t exist, feeling guilty for killing all the Dragons, not playing The Decent, not playing Jaws of Hakkon, crying over Trespasser…
Oh. And violently combat rolling away from any and all fade rifts.
You were lying to us about your friends, huh? Yeah. I was. Now, we need to end this. You’re not going anywhere with those guns. I’ve got your pal’s ammo. How many bullets you got left after all those walkers? Three? Four?
“theatre class,” steve repeated. “are you kiddin’ me?”
“i can’t ask mike or lucas,” dustin replied, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “but my mom… you know, she wants me to bring someone, and i thought…”
“hey, we ain’t friends,” steve hurriedly said, stepping out onto his front step and closing the front door behind him. “not a chance.”
“okay, steve, it’s time for both of us to stop pretending that you don’t love playing video games with me on friday nights and that babysitting me isn’t the best thing that’s ever happened to you. we both know it.”
this fucking kid.
“if i see one person from school -” steve began, but dustin interrupted.
“you won’t, steve.” dustin’s gaze was more serious than steve had ever seen it, and if this was about anything other than theatre classes, he’d probably be worried for his little pal. “come on. it’s bring-a-friend week. you wouldn’t let me go by myself, would you?”
steve stared down at dustin for a brief second before moving his hand up sharply to hit off his baseball hat - which landed on the front lawn - and ruffle his curly mop of hair.
“might wanna pick that up, kiddo!” steve chirped as he sprinted inside and shut the door before dustin could flip him off.
Do you ever think about how Mark Mann once went to the White House to photograph Barack Obama…and the photo that he calls his “favorite bts of all time” comes from when he photographed David and Gillian in some non-descript room for reasons that still have never become clear?