#Yeah now I can’t unhear that

[bloodied-dagger]

yknow what? Yeah, that rando on YouTube was right, Pearl would sound British if she spoke English

[the-travelling-witch]

Gossip bf seishu loves to listen and catalogues all the drama so like 8 months down the line when you're like "it just doesnt make sense why would he act like that?" Sei pop in and gives like the tiniest little details/ facts that you dropped that like make everything click.

We’re just sitting at the dinner table and I’m ranting about this guy from work and how he never cleans the coffee machine, how there’s always coffee grounds and water in there and that it really can’t be that hard and Sei is just like “Well, he also never throws his trash away what do you expect”

Meanwhile Koko is typing away on his phone and just drily comments “He also cheated on his girlfriend and owes so much money to this guy I know.”

And Sei and I just look at each other like 👀

Koko always has a different league of gossip hshsh

This sound is us, for sure

Holly: “You know, she has some problems for sure, but I think it’s important to just—“

Koko: “She’s also ugly.”

Sei: “Well okay, now I don’t think that that was necessary…”

[c0kitty]

NOW PLAYING ... NOBODY KNOWS ft. spider-women!ellie x reader

“…BUT NOBODY KNOWS MY LITTLE SECRET.”

(⭑) summary: r/reddit, when’s the best time to tell your girlfriend of three months, (who you are so desperately in love with) you are that "crazy" vigilante on the news, fighting crime in a spider-suit, and that you now shoot fucking webs out of your wrist. (⭑) content: wc 1.2k+ nerd!ellie. confessions. making out. comfort. spider-man!ellie. established relationship. suggestive. insecure!ellie. HEAVILY inspired from the roof-top scene in tasm bcs im obsessed. cursing.

you guys find yourself on the roof-top of dina’s-friend’s apartment, for a random party, celebrating god-knows what. it's slightly chilly, you stand next to ellie with her oversized jacket on you; despite ellie telling you numerous times it was going to be cold, she was not one to refuse you.

ellie wished she had her camera right now; outside’s a pretty scene with the many buildings scattered, the sky, gradually transitioning into yellow and pink hues, night unfolding, and you, looked so pretty by her side. 

the city below though remains bustling with constant movement, and ellie's mind is no different. because today was going to be the day —

ellie’s hazel-green eyes shift towards you, observing your soft expression, her heart ached with uncertainty as she wondered if you would hate her — hate her for lying, hate her for not being normal, hate her for having so much baggage. hate her for being spider-women. 

“you think dina and jesse are shagging?” you ask, randomly, breaking the comfortable silence. your hands moves to the railing, casually pushing yourself backwards on it.

“saw dina sneakin’ out at 1 am, like she was a teenager. so, yeah, definitely.” 

also due to ellie’s super-senses, she had heard so many “private,” conversations with him and dina she wished to unhear.

you nod your head, turning your attention towards ellie. “so, why do you seem so te—”

“i need to say something,” 

you guys both interrupt each other, it elicits a small giggle from you. “okay... is this about before? is that the reason you’ve been so pissy tonight?” 

you were hinting about earlier. when someone had hit on you, even with you being on ellie's lap, her arms even wrapped at your waist. it irritated the hell out of ellie, leaving her to characteristically run her mouth at em'. 

you almost had to drag her away to stop the growing commotion.

ellie sports a slight pout at her pink-lips. “it’s not my fault men can’t get fucking context clues, it’s a wonder they survive. and i haven’t been “pissy” i—” you raise your eyebrows in response, conveying a silent ‘you sure?’ ellie stops talking, only rolling her eyes.

“okay, whatever, maybe i was but, it's not about that,” ellie wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding crazy or scaring you.

“...i was bitten,” ellie says, bushy brows slightly furrowing.

your head tilts, “that’s a little ominous.” ellie rethinks; maybe that wasn’t a good way to start.

“nevermind. you know, when i was sick. that whole two weeks, couple months back.” you nod your head, “yeah, you said you were sick. projectile vomit and shit. couldn’t lift a finger because it was so bad.” damn, ellie forgot she said all that.

“yeah, um sorry. i lied about that.” before you could say anything, lips pulled into a frown, ellie blurts: “i’m spider-man,” finally with a breath. you’re staring at her, but she can’t decipher your expression. unconsciously, ellie bites at her bottom lip.

silence fills the moment, and ellie finds it unbearable; suddenly, in just a second, your face relaxes. “oh, wait. you’re fucking with me. els thought you were serious for a second.”

ellie was regretting playing pranks on you so much, “i’m not fucking with you,” ellie’s arm cross, unconsciously flexing in the process, but you only a grow smile on your lips, like this was some ongoing joke. “jesus, stop smiling — it’s not a joke y/n,”

“i’ve known you all my life ellie — i think i would know if you were fighting crimes with iron-man,” you ignore her, releasing the bar. “wait just w—”

“lets go els, please. it’s getting cold and i’m tired,” you say, making your move toward the door; but in a quick reaction, ellie’s translucent webs shoots out her wrist, spinning you around til’ you're close, her hands, now holding at your waist.

you’re staring at her, eyes widened comically, and your mouth parted, seemingly trying to process what just happened. ellie's attention was drawn to something else though; light in the distance, drunken footsteps heading their way. 

“you just fucking — shot webs out your hands, ellie! you’re sp—” 

ellie didn’t have much time to think it through, because as soon as the drunkards stumble in, ellie's lips, soft and sweet, press into yours.  “..shh,” ellie whispers, faint to your lips — trying to calm you down.

a small gasp leaves your mouth. but after a second, hearing the commotion behind you; you get the message, relaxing yourself into the kiss.

ellie's kisses are usually greedy, but tender, her hands would rummage your body confidently, possessively pulling you in. but this kiss, its … different. it’s tentative, hesitant, like she was afraid to push.

at that, you try to make her feel comfortable with a subtle touch beneath her loose black-shirt. your lips, coated in strawberry gloss, glides seamlessly over hers, giving her a little push; and it works.

ellie tongue pushes in hastily, its smooth tracing from your lips to your tongue. her moppy-brown hair tickling your chin as she eases in the kiss, embracing the subtle buzzing in her chest. 

you hear the people leave, and it’s silent now, besides the busy cars. “ellie… t–” 

“one more second,” she grumbles, you wanted to keep going, but you still had a lot to say — questions cycling. so you pull away, with a gentle smack of the lips.

she lets out a small groan in response; her cheeks dusted in pink and round eyes flutter open, looking at you in a wistful gaze.

“so… you’re spider-man. well, spider-woman,” you finally say, exhaling. ellie’s eyes shift to the floor. her hands drop from you, and instead, runs through her hair anxiously. “yeah. i know it’s fucked up, and weird. i should’ve told you, warned you, but i—”

you interrupt her depressive rambles, “no, ellie i mean it’s cool, you’re cool. it’s just, fuck.” you take a breath, throwing your hands up. “i was just surprised because you’re, like, nerdy and cute, and then … spiderman, you know?”

ellie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, “relieved” couldn’t fully capture how she felt, but all she could managed to say was: “oh, okay. that’s great, yeah.”

a silence falls between you two in response to ellie’s awkwardness, exchanging glances; both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“i feel like i should feel offended though, ‘nerdy?’” you playfully nudge at her feet, “you know what i mean. passionate about space, introverted, so obsessed with your grades. it’s like a text-book definition,” ellie couldn’t really deny that, so she just playful rolls her eyes instead.

“...but you know what’s crazy, i had a small tiny crush on spider–man, well you, before we officially dated.” 

ellie’s lips curve into a smile, “so now you get the best of both worlds, huh.” ellie comes closer to you, hands finding their place to your body. "i bet you dreamed of both of us fighting over you, hm?”  

in the quietness that follows, your eyes drift away from ellie, intentionally avoiding her gaze. ellie could tell there was more story to your silence, “wait — did you have a wet dream about spider-man and m—” she begins, but you swiftly cover her mouth.

“...shut it,” you say beyond flustered, which only intensifies ellie's curiosity.

[allycatexplainsthings]

OMG, THAT DOES SOUND LIKE HIM!

G/t prompt list

- ERMMMM… THAT JUST HAPPENED!

- HE’S RIGHT BEHIND ME, ISNT HE?

- WELL… THIS IS AWKWARD!

- YIKES… THATS GOTTA HURT!

- OH… ER… DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD…?

- THATS FOR ALMOST GETTING ME KILLED…. AND THATS FOR SAVING MY LIFE.

- NOW, IF I WAS A BORROWER… WHERE WOULD I HIDE…?

- GUYS… WE’VE GOT COMPANY!

- ER… THAT SOUNDED BETTER IN MY HEAD!

[grlsinterrupted]

i hope your requests are open again but if not im so sorry!! but i was wondering if u could do a dallas winston x fem!reader where reader is having problems at home (her parents being shitty yk?) and she is just having a really bad day and shes on the verge of a break down but then dallas calls and says he needs bail but she cant bring herself to be angry or else she’ll finally break so she just agrees and goes to get him but he senses somethings wrong and tries to get her to talk to him and basically just a really really really soft dallas

sorry if thats too much😭❤️

but tysm i luv ur work🫶🏼

love is a gentle thing, your’s is thicker than a velvet ring ࿔*:･ﾟ

you’ve reached your breaking point | dallas winston x fem ! reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖

-

it’s insane how much a piece of paper dictates what you can do, what you can’t do, who you can talk to— your entire life, really. though it holds no monetary value, your report card has always seemed to define your self worth, and better yet, served as a constant reminder that you’ll never truly satisfy your parents. no matter how many hours you spent slaving away on your assignments, fighting back the urge to fall asleep right on your desk, your dedication will never be enough.

a thick silence fills the room, the only sound coming from the faint chirping of crickets and the rhythm of your rugged breathing. you’re seated on the corner of your bed, your hands shaking as you grapple onto the edges of your report card. the paper is crinkled, stained with tears and remnants of your mascara smeared across the letter ‘b+.’ the memory of your mother lecturing you about your grades replays in your head like a song you want to unhear. one single letter was enough to spiral you into a loop of madness. suddenly, the silence is broken by a ringing phone. you flinch, reaching over your nightstand to answer it.

you clear your throat, sniffling. “hello?”

a familiar voice huffs out a chuckle behind the phone. it didn’t take you long to realize that this accented tone belonged to none other than your boyfriend, dallas. “hey, doll. y’know how the fuzz are, they’ve been on my ass all week.”

“dal? are you seriously calling me from jail?” your voice is shaky as you bite back your tears, the report card’s weight heavy on your lap. despite how desperately you needed to cry, right now wasn’t the time. you’ve gathered all the composure remaining in you to deal with dallas’ reckless behavior.

“listen, i’m g’na need a couple bucks for bail. you’d do that for me, wouldn’t ya?”

all you can do is sigh. of course he’d called you for bail. even though you wanted to blow up at him over the phone and tell him to pay for his own bail, you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry at him. you were just as troubled as he was, if not, worse— the only difference being that you prioritized your future more than he ever would.

“sure, whatever. i’ll just- i’ll drive there right now. don’t do anything while i’m gone.”

dallas grazes his bloody knuckles against his a bruise on his cheekbone, wincing. somehow, he’d gotten into a fight with a soc while he was walking to buck’s place. granted that you’ve been silent the entire time, he could sense something was wrong with you— the way your eyes have lost that little sparkle in them, the way your head tilted downwards as the two of you walked out of the police station, and most of all, the fact that you didn’t even hug him once he was released.

despite the amount of times dallas has tried to reisist your post-jail hugs, they’re all he looks forward to while he’s stuck in his cell. your hugs blanket him with a sense of security— the kind of security he’s never had. without that subtle gesture, he felt as though a part of him was missing.

“you’ve been awfully quiet.” dallas mutters under his breath, looking down at you.

you shrug, shaking your head. “i never noticed.”

“yeah, but ya know what i notice?” he pockets his hands. “sum’s wrong with ya.”

you can feel your throat begin to close up as you reply. “nothing’s wrong, dal,” your voice begins to tremble as you tell yourself, do not cry in front of your boyfriend. “let’s just go home, now. i’m tired.”

“are ya mad at me for getting into a fight?” he raises a brow, nudging you with his shoulder. “‘cause if you are, he came onto me first.”

something in you snaps, emotions overflowing like a dam bursting. the stray tear that you’ve been fighting to hold back runs down your cheek. you’ve finally reached your limit. “i’m not mad at you for that! well- i am, but i’m just.. i’m stressed, okay?! everyone is stressing me out!”

dallas goes silent for a second, just watching you shatter in front of him. once he replies, his voice immediately softens. “y’know you can talk to me about anythin’, right?”

you gulp, wiping away the tear as you nod.

dallas runs a hand through his hair, biting the inside of his lip almost as if he’s hesitant to say something. he then begins to speak up.

“you forgot somethin’.”

he pulls you into a warm embrace, brushing his fingers through the strands of your hair as you cry into his arms. this time, the hug is offering you that sense of security that dallas yearns for. you’re finally safe in his arms, safe from all of the expectations set on you.

‘love is a gentle thing, your’s is thicker than a velvet ring ..’ .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

-

[hqbaby]

twenty-four — kiss and tell

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.7k content. profanity, angsty flashback, naoya is a dumbass

What happened that night is all a blur to you now. You remember little between dragging Satoru out of his bedroom to join the others outside and making the worst mistake of your life, and even that you can’t say you remember for certain.

You know that the night had started well enough. You and Shoko spent most of your time dancing and occasionally crashing on the couch to engage in extremely pretentious conversations about the state of the world with the group of political science majors who had camped out there. Like most of Yuji’s parties, the night had involved copious amounts of alcohol and little critical thinking.

“I’m gonna go get some water,” you told Shoko through the blaring music. “You want anything?”

She pointed at her cup. “Get me another one?”

You chuckled. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“Nope!” she said, grinning at you. “Keep ‘em coming!”

“Your wish is my command.”

You stumbled past the group of boys who were having a competition for how many chips they could stuff in their mouth, past the girls who were contemplating getting matching tattoos, the couples who existed a world away from the one you were living in.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar pair of blue eyes and a mop of white hair. You frowned, not finding him anywhere.

You went into the kitchen, skirted past the two boys who were trying to figure out what those giant Q-tip looking things that people fought with were called—pugil sticks, you later found out—and grabbed yourself a bottle of water and a drink for Shoko.

You remember wanting to find Satoru, wanting to see where your beloved boyfriend had disappeared to. That was why you walked down the corridor to the bathroom. That was why you happened upon Suguru’s bedroom, the door opened just a crack. That was why you heard what you heard, why things changed the way that they did.

“He was looking at rings.”

You knew better than to eavesdrop. Years of living in the same house as your parents, where there was a daily occurance of arguments behind closed doors, had taught you that there were some things you were better off not knowing. Some things that you couldn’t unhear after you heard them, things you shouldn’t have to hear at all.

But Suguru’s voice drew you in. His words even more.

You leaned in towards the door thinking, How bad can it be?

It was Yuta who spoke next. “Rings?” he said. “For her?”

“Yeah,” Satoru’s best friend spoke. “He’s getting serious about this. I think it might actually be real this time.”

Now, that made you press your ears against the door. They were talking about you and your boyfriend. They were talking about how serious your relationship had become.

If you were being honest, you were scared shitless by the whole thing. After high school, you hadn’t so much as looked at the boys who sauntered in your direction. You were aware of your tendencies—“a lack of self-preservation skills,” as Sukuna often called it—and you never thought that any relationship was worth the pain you could inflict on the other person, the pain they could inflict on you.

But Satoru had come into your life all bright and good. Perfect was the only way you could describe it. The kind of perfection that had you wanting to catch up, to be worth whatever pain you both could suffer if things turned sour. The kind of perfect that made you want to be perfect too.

Your heart was light at Suguru’s words. He was looking at rings. He believed in what the two of you had. It was real.

But then you heard a laugh. Naoya.

“Satoru doesn’t do ‘real,’” he said in that haughty tone of his. “He likes the spectacle. The show of it all.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Yuta said. You could hear his frown through his words. “He loves her, I think we can all see that.”

“We all know he went for her because she was a challenge to him,” Naoya insisted. “It’s the perfect story: The untouchable girl falls for the college heartthrob. They get married and live happily ever after—it’s fucking disgusting.”

You heard Suguru laugh. “You’re just jealous because you have some weird crush on her.”

“I’m not jealous. I just recognize his patterns. They’re so fucking predictable.”

His patterns. Satoru’s patterns.

What patterns?

“Do you remember Hana from freshman year?” Naoya continued. “She was really pretty, really sweet. He was in love with her, wasn’t he?”

“Sure, but—”

“And Miyoko after he and Hana broke up? He was convinced he was gonna marry her too.”

“Okay, but—”

“Wasn’t he seeing Kana when he convinced himself he needed to have—”

“Fine!” Suguru groaned. “He has a pattern. He’s a fucking romantic. We get it, man.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” Naoya said. “The moment she stops living up to his standards, the moment the illusion breaks, he’s going to move on to the next perfect girl. It’s just what he does.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d known about Satoru’s past, the girlfriends he had that he swore to you were different. You were different, that was what he told you. You were the only one he’d ever wanted in that way.

You heard someone groan on the other side of the door.

“Is he awake?” Yuta asked.

There was a shuffle of fabric. The sheets on Suguru’s bed.

“Nope,” Suguru said. “Still pretty blacked out.”

You looked through the crack in the door. The three boys were on the floor beside the bed and passed out on the sheets was your boyfriend. Your perfect boyfriend.

You suddenly felt lightheaded. You felt confused. You felt sick.

Everyone’s gathered in the living room. Mahito is sprawled out on the couch, barely lifting his head as he speaks.

“I hate hide and seek,” he says. “Whose idea was it anyway?”

“I thought it was fun!” Utahime says, grinning.

“We had fun too,” Sukuna chimes in. He slings an arm around Kento—who does his best to shrug him off to no avail—and smiles at the man. “Didn’t we?”

Kento’s look of disdain is the only answer he gets.

Everyone else laughs and starts chatting about the game, filling up new cups of alcohol and settling around the fire. Until—

“Where’s tiger?” Sukuna asks eventually once he’s circled the room looking for you. “Mahito, did you find her?”

The other boy grunts on the couch. “I dunno.”

Maki grows pale, coming to the same conclusion that you’re not here. She glances over at Satoru who’s sitting on a chair with Kimi on his lap. His eyes are distant, staring into the fireplace. She looks around again. And she realizes.

“Where’s Naoya?” she asks.

The whole room grows quiet.

“Are they not here?” Nobara scans the room. “They’re not…”

Satoru looks around now too. He sees what everyone sees. There are only two people missing in this room: You and Naoya.

He grimaces. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Naoya had his body turned to you, the two of you still sitting in the cramped compartment. You don’t know how long you’ve been in here. It feels like hours have passed already.

“No,” you tell him, leaning against the wall behind you.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re such a pain.”

“Back at you.”

“No, but really,” he says, sitting tall as he folds his hands on his lap. “Why’d you do it?”

You frown. “Do what?”

“Kiss me,” he answers. He cracks a grin. “Not that I’m complaining or anything—”

“Holy shit, shut the fuck up.” You bury your face in your hands. “Don’t ask me that.”

In truth, you don’t actually remember the kiss. Just that it happened. Just that you’d done it, that you’d decided to ruin everything.

But what was there to ruin in the first place? The whole thing had already been crumbling beneath you without you knowing.

He prods your foot with his. “I just wanna know.”

“I don’t know,” you tell him. When he looks at you, unimpressed with your answer, you shrug. “I realized some things. Or I was confused about them at least. I needed to… do something.”

“So you kissed me,” he says. “Out of nowhere, you come up to me and kiss me because you needed to do something?”

You tilt your head. “Is that how it happened?”

Naoya narrows his eyes, shifting a little. “You don’t remember?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how lame that probably sounds. “I just know that I did it. I wasn’t really thinking. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You don’t remember,” he repeats like he doesn’t believe you.

“Yes, Naoya, I don’t fucking remember,” you say, exasperated. “How many times are you gonna say that?”

He shakes his head. “What do you think happened?”

You furrow your brows at his tone. “What did happen?”

Naoya studies you for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re just being mean to him. If you’re just pretending not to remember to psych him out. But he knows you better than that, you wouldn’t stoop that low.

“We were at the party,” he says slowly. “I was outside the house. Trying to get some air, you know, because Yuji had just thrown up on the carpet like a fucking idiot and I didn’t wanna clean it up.”

He pauses, gauging your response. You nod at him to continue.

“And you showed up,” he says. “And you sat down beside me and you were real quiet for a moment. And then you leaned over and kissed my cheek and said ‘thank you’ and—”

“Wait, what?” You gape at him. “I kissed your cheek?”

“Yeah, my cheek. And you said—”

“I kissed your cheek and thanked you?” you ask, louder. “That’s it?”

Naoya frowns. “Yeah, I fucking thought you knew that.”

“I didn’t know that!” you exclaim. “I kissed your cheek?” You slap his arm. “This whole time, when you said that we kissed—you mean that I kissed your fucking cheek?”

“Yeah!” he says. “You kissed my fucking cheek and thanked me! I thought you knew what I meant!”

You feel your eye twitch. You want to punch him or pull his hair or—

“I can’t fucking believe you!” you say, throwing your hands at him haphazardly, ultimately unable to decide how you were going to try and hurt him. “This whole fucking time that was the fucking kiss? Naoya, I’m gonna kill you!”

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros taedros

part two: taedros twodros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 2k reader: femme afab warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ -- porn with plot, oral f!receiving, swearing, calling tae a virgin loser as a joke, mentioning the weeknd LMAO summary: loserbestfriend!taerae makes you watch the idol on hbo max with him for movie night, but a certain convertible scene sparks your "curiosity" more than the others... and taerae proves he might not be such a loser after all. :0 omg who am i?? i even wrote in all lower case letters in the fic to throw you off... i know you'll know right away though but that's not the point lmao!! i just didn't think i should be this horny for taerae on main so. here's the dedicated zb1 smut blog no one was asking for (except me. i was asking for it so let me live.) thank you to taerae for posting these pics next to each other and ruining my life. also the idol sucks and sam levinson and the weeknd are horrific for creating it. i only know some scenes from it because i watch comedy commentary videos about it. jennie is beautiful tho love her. ALSO i thought of this title and i cried laughing. mwahaha okay thanks for reading byeeeee

“this is the worst show I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say with a laugh, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “i can’t believe we’ve made it through two episodes already.”

🚨 SMUT BELOW CUT -- MINORS DNI -- 18+ 🚨

taerae sighs, “i think i’m gonna need to bleach my eyes.”

“throw some in my ears while you’re at it,” you joke, letting a leg drape over your best friend’s. you’re crammed together in the bottom bunk of his dorm room bed, watching the idol on the tv that’s hung at the foot of it. “i will never, ever be able to unhear the weeknd whispering, ‘stretch that tiny little pussy for me’. and every single day i will beg the lord for mercy.”

“are we sure we wanna watch the third episode?” taerae asks, shifting a bit next to you. “this show is so graphic.”

“of course the virgin wants to chicken out,” you tease, smacking his stomach with a pillow. he grabs it from you and leaves it there. “you’re the one who wanted to watch it! now you wanna quit two episodes in? not gonna happen. we can make it through this.”

if you hadn’t pressed play at that exact moment, you would’ve heard taerae gulp beside you. 

the intro of the show plays, assaulting your eyes with an up-close and personal view of jocelyn’s bare chest. what else is new? you yawn, hoping the third episode’s graphic scenes (at the very least) won’t be repetitive. bitch has put on a blindfold to end both episodes so far...

sitting with your back leaning against the wall, you try to steal a glance at taerae. his upper back is propped up on his pillow as he lies perpendicular to you, facing the tv screen. you watch his eyes, catching the subtle dilation of his pupils. it could be the light from the television in the otherwise dark room shifting their size, but you find yourself curious nonetheless.

“do you think she’s pretty?” you ask suddenly.

taerae coughs. “me? do i think the actress is pretty?”

you nod, eyes returning to the screen in hopes that the lack of eye contact will make taerae feel comfortable enough to give you an answer.

“she’s pretty, yeah,” he says after a moment. 

“like, you’re attracted to her?” you clarify, throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“uh,” he hesitates and you feel his legs tense up under yours. “i guess. i mean she’s not really my type, but--.”

“but you like her tits.”

“exactly,” taerae agrees too quickly. “wait, no--.”

“no need to walk it back,” you cut him off with a snort. “boobs are hot. end of story.”

taerae sits up a bit more, seemingly trying to relax after your probing. you didn’t talk to taerae about sex or girls all that much, but you’d be lying if you said the show hadn’t suddenly made you a bit curious. what experience did your lovable loser of a best friend have-- if any at all?

the interrogatory questions you’re suddenly wanting to ask are thrown from your brain, however, as the show now cuts to a shot of the weeknd (you and taerae refuse to call him tedros tedros) and jocelyn in the back of a convertible-- their poor assistant driving these two insufferable cretins down the freeway.

nothing’s out of the ordinary until jocelyn crawls from her seat and lifts one leg to straddle the weeknd. she’s in a slinky tangerine bodysuit and little black shorts and the weeknd’s hands easily envelope her waist. you roll your eyes, already having grown so sick of these two. 

but when jocelyn is suddenly pushed to the edge of the seat, her back against the car door and her head resting on the frame-- your attention is piqued. the weeknd wraps his hands around her thighs, prying them apart so he can pull her shorts to the side just enough to fit his tongue. the actress’s head lolls back over the car door frame; her blonde hair dangling over the side and flowing in the wind. her face is screwed up in absolute bliss and the sounds coming out of her confirm her state.

would she really be screaming like that just from his tongue?

“um,” you hear taerae say and you look over at him curiously. “if-- if he’s good with it, then yeah. she would be, i guess.”

you frown. what was he talking about? if he’s good with what? ... oh fuck, you think as you realize that you’d accidentally said your previous thought out loud. and now poor taerae is stumbling to give you an answer.

what did he say? if he’s good with it then she would be.

“huh,” you mumble, your brow furrowing as you ponder his answer.

you turn back to the tv, but taerae clears his throat. “what?”

“what? what do you mean, what?”

“why did you say ‘huh’ like that?” he asks, the pillow on his stomach rustling as he shifts slightly. “do you not agree or something?”

“oh, uh,” you stutter as you feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what to say. “um, i guess i wouldn’t know.”

the silence from taerae is deafening as your eyes stay locked on the tv. you’re not sure why you said that. you could’ve just lied. you should’ve just lied.

“are you a virgin?” taerae asks softly. the accusation whips your head around to stare at him angrily and his eyes widen cautiously.

“obviously not,” you answer in a huff. “i just... i’ve never...”

you look down at your lap, picking at the skin on your fingers. you should stop while you can. you don’t need to tell the truth. why are you even considering telling him this?

“no one’s ever gone down on me or anything.”

“oh,” taerae manages to respond after a long moment, but you can’t even look at him.

“yeah.”

another moment of silence. “you shouldn’t be, like, embarrassed by that. that’s... that’s entirely their fault for not prioritizing you, you know?”

your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, the aforementioned embarrassment flushing your skin as you nod. the show is still playing, but you can only hear garbled sounds. why did you tell him that!? now taerae has to awkwardly comfort you when you could’ve just shut your mouth in the first place. you didn’t really talk about these kinds of things with taerae. your best friend was there for movie nights, chinese food binges, laughing until you cry, and most importantly taking the absolute piss out of... 

and here you were making him uncomfortable by randomly talking about your oral virginity.

“would you want me to do it?”

taerae’s voice is so quiet that you’re positive for a moment that you hallucinated it. you look over at your best friend tentatively to find his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping his pillow to his stomach. 

“what?”

taerae blinks nervously. “if you wanted to, you know, try it... i could--.”

“WHAT!?” you shout; hands grabbing the pillow on taerae’s stomach and throwing it across the room. “are you-- are you fucking joking!? you think i’m desperate enough to ask my best friend to eat me out?”

“no, no, no,” taerae respond quickly, hands flying up in defense. “not at all!”

“then what?” you ask, jaw setting in anger as you wait for a good enough answer to keep you from punching him in the balls.

taerae’s lips form the slightest pout. “you seemed really curious about it. i just... i just thought i’d offer.”

you bite your lip as you think. “what do you even know about that kind of thing? I thought you were a virgin loser.”

“ouch,” taerae says but quickly shrugs it off. “i guess you’re only right about half of that statement.”

you frown. even though you’d never talked about it before, was taerae secretly experienced? more experienced than you?

“you don’t have to say yes though,” he adds quickly. “i’m sorry; i probably shouldn’t have said any--.”

“okay,” you cut him off softly.

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “okay?”

you nod slowly. “i don’t believe you that you’re not a virgin loser, but if you’re offering...”

taerae sits up, leaning on his hands as a little smirk lights up his face. “i’ll eat you out and then you can eat those words. how does that sound?”

the way your heat flutters at his words catches you off guard. so does the way he swiftly flips you onto your back as you take the position he was just in.

“whoah,” you exhale, your best friend absolutely knocking the wind out of you as he positions himself between your thighs. he takes the hem of your shorts in his fingers, eyebrows raising at you expectantly. you lift up your hips enough for him to shimmy them off, discarding them on the floor without taking his eyes off your still-clothed center.

you glance at your underwear, panic immediately hitting you when you realize you wore the only clean pair that you had left...

a black, lace thong.

they were the only pair left, because you honestly hadn’t had a reason to wear them in a little while.

“fuck,” taerae curses, hands wrapped around the outsides of your thighs. “were you going somewhere after this or...?”

“if you don’t shut your mouth, i’ll be going somewhere before this,” you threaten, but the words come out shakier than you would’ve liked as taerae begins to plant open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. “... ‘s laundry day tomorrow.”

“mm, I see,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hand so he can bring his right hand to your heat. your heart rate rises as he moves towards where you’re quickly growing to need his attention most. two fingers press at your clothed-core gently and the sound of the tv in the background does nothing to dampen the moan that escapes you from just the small amount of pressure.

“laundry day’s coming just in time i think,” taerae says, a smirk highlighting his cavernous dimples in a light you’ve never seen before. “from the way you’re soaking through these.”

“shut up,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face. taerae hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging at them playfully to get your attention. peeking out through your fingers, you glare at him.

“do you want to stop?” he asks, removing his hands quickly. “we can stop if you want to or need to or anything.”

you reach down and grab both of his hands in yours, reattaching them to your underwear. “please keep going.”

he blinks at you for a moment before nodding, pulling your thong down your legs as you lift your hips up for him. taerae lies down fully in between your thighs now, guitar-string calloused hands wrapping around your thighs and guiding them to rest on his shoulders. 

“so pretty,” he whispers. eyes focusing on your throbbing cunt, taerae’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter-- a little more desperate. “really.”

“thanks,” you respond shyly, watching as a bit of steam begins to coat the rim of taerae’s glasses. you can’t help but smile as you reach for them, carefully removing the frames and placing them on the stand next to his bed. 

“thanks,” he echoes. 

“i’m still not convinced that you aren’t a-- oh fuck...” just as you’re about to tease your loser of a best friend again, his tongue finds your core and licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit. taerae exhales a laugh against your pussy, tongue circling your clit as his hands now take hold of your hips.

“wait, what the fuck?” you whine breathlessly as he works you over with his mouth. “tae, i thought... oh my god.”

“taste so good, baby,” taerae moans like he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. he slips a finger in your entrance carefully, stretching you until he deems you ready for a second. “Think this pussy might be perfect.”

his eyes are closed; eating at you like you’re his favorite meal. it’s hot. way hotter than the scene from the show. way hotter than anything on that stupid show-- in which another sex scene is playing on the screen behind taerae. you suddenly feel so much pity for jocelyn; one of the hardest characters in history to pity. but the fact that there’s no way tedros fucking tedros is eating her out as good as taerae’s eating you out right now is tugging at your heart strings.

“tae,” you whimper, feeling the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten. your hand tangling up in his hair at the nape of his neck causes him to moan into you and the vibration only makes you tug harder. “please, please wanna cum.”

“already? you sure?” he says, disappointment coating his voice. “could eat this pussy all night.”

“holy shit,” you exhale. you didn’t even know taerae was capable of talking like this. the only time he ever said pussy around you was if he was calling you one. now as he looks up at you from between your thighs, his pretty dimpled-smile covered in your juices as he continues to fuck you with his fingers and press his thumb against your clit...

you’re nodding frantically now. “please, please tae. make me cum.”

“fuck, baby, okay. whatever you want,” he agrees quickly, the lust in his eyes at your demand reaching a whole new level. he removes his thumb from your clit and the sudden lack of contact causes you to whine pathetically. “sshhh, don’t worry baby. i’ve got something even better, i promise.”

just as some tears from frustration are welling up in your eyes, taerae’s lips close around your clit and he begins to suck. “oh my GOD,” is all you can manage as your orgasm starts to wash over you. “taerae. oh my god, tae... c-cumming.”

you’re grinding your pussy against his tongue now to maximize the friction and the way he lifts your hips a bit to bring you even closer tells you that he’s loving every second of this. your moans match the ones that taerae is mewing into your core. he places your hips back down onto the mattress, holding them steady as you start to squirm a bit from the overstimulation. he continues to lap at you gently as your hand falls from his hair to his shoulder, causing him to look up at you.

your cheeks are red now from both your climax and the new wave of embarrassment that’s creeping up on you. you’re not sure what to say, but luckily taerae’s got you covered.

he inserts two fingers inside of you again and then pulls them out-- covered in your juices. without hesitating, he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean. “you’ve tasted yourself, right? probably a lot. fuck, i’m so jealous.”

your jaw drops a bit, now doubly unable to speak at the filth pouring out of your best friend’s mouth..

taerae frowns at you. “what? you want to make this awkward now?”

you shake your head. 

“was it good?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he squints slightly. you reach over to his nightstand and grab his glasses, handing them back to him. he puts them on; raising his hand to ruffle his hair.

“you know it was good,” you mumble annoyedly.

he grins. “yeah. i do.”

“UGH,” you groan, hiding behind your hands again. “i hate you.”

“please, pleeeease tae,” he mocks, climbing up closer to your face to really rub it in. “make me cum.”

“SHUT UP!” you shout, hitting his chest with your fists in annoyance. “do not get cocky about this.”

taerae shrugs, biting his lip to keep from smirking. “i guess you never wanna do this again then?”

you sigh defeatedly before replying softly, “i didn’t say that.”

“good,” he says with a smile-- shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. “i’m gonna get you some water and a towel, okay? don’t move a muscle.”

you don’t. taerae had made sure of that with the orgasm he’d just pulled out of you. as the door to his dorm room closes behind him, you’re left with only your thoughts and the sound of that shitty tv show playing in the background. you reach for the remote weakly, pressing pause on a bizarre scene of the weeknd jerking it over a clothing rack (?).

all you can think about, though, is taerae lapping at your pussy like a starved man. what the fuck just happened? did you really just let your best friend eat you out?

and how the fuck had he managed to leave you wanting more?

[daffodilsonaprettystring]

Hey so remember the Destiel fic Angel’s Wild by riseofthefallenone on ao3???

Yeah so the song Strange Sight by KT Tunstall (yes the one from the Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbest movie) is so perfect for that fic like just— I’m listening to it now and I can’t unhear it

OK Thanks goodnight 👏👏

[remedyturtles]

Hey!! I loved the latest firefight chapter, and I am currently on chapter 19 of death wish! Reading your fics like my life depends on it 😌

I was listening to my “likes” playlist this morning and 3 AM by Matchbox 20 came on and my third eye opened because if it isn’t Leo from death wish… just substitute “she/her” with “he/his” haha and it’s just… please give it a listen if you ever have time 🙏

On a similar note (ha), Sympathy by The Goo Goo Dolls is Leo in firefight. I can’t unhear it, this is forever a Leo Song now.

If you listen to either of these songs, please let me know what you think! I need validation hahaha. But if you don’t have time no worries. Have a great day!! Thanks for writing, as always! ☺️

OOOOO ouchies. yeah both of those are pretty good!!! yikes especially for the firefight one LMAO the goo goo dolls never miss, huh? god. on his knees. AWHGHGh

since i'm talking abt music again my current firefight song is this one which i have listened to innumerable times while writing. and it is also this one of course :)

[simpforfandoms]

you’re loosing me

wrote this on my phone the day you’re loosing me

pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader (I don’t think any pronouns are used tho)

summary: the end of a relationship is never fun

warnings: probs bad might delete later

“I don’t know, I just don’t see myself marrying you” dick states

You snort, “but you saw yourself marrying Barbara and Kory?”

You smile while saying it, trying to play it off as a lighthearted conversation, like you didn’t hear your heart break, like he practically wasn’t saying that you weren’t good enough to marry.

He shrugs, “yeah but that’s different they’re like heroes”

and they’re prettier than you? Smarter? Braver? Stronger? He loved them more than you? It wasn’t like he was meaning to judge you but it felt like it. It felt like he was judging you for not being as good as them.

You scrunch your lips in distaste, “hmmm not really but ok.”

He laughs in disbelief, noticing the slight venom to your words, “you seriously can’t be mad at me for saying I wouldn’t marry you, you’re the one who asked me!”

You’re jaw clenches at his words, first it was I don’t see myself marrying you, now it was I wouldn’t marry you, you shut your jaw and try to compose yourself.

He notices your response, or lack thereof, and states something before you even get the chance to speak, “it’s not like you would marry me!”

Your face turns into one of disgust and confusion, “Dick I would marry you in a heartbeat.” You state.

For a moment he just stares at you, knowing he can’t say the same to you. You shrug and turn your head back to the tv and watch some random sitcom on ABC family, ignoring the burning sensation in your stomach all the way up to your heart. He inches closer to you and wraps an arm around you.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Right.” is what your mouth says but the achy sensation in your heart is telling a different story.

•

A month later and thing start quickly going downhill, more arguing, more resentment, less love.

“I don’t understand.” Dick says

“I know you don’t.” You reply

“Then help me understand!”

“I can’t! Alright?”

“I’m sick of your fucking mind games!”

“My mind games?!?”

“Yes! You say you I judge you! I don’t”

“Yes you do like non stop as you’re off saving lives!”

“I’ve told you like a thousand times I don’t judge what you do!”

“Uh no no yes you do judge me. Like last month remember? You said you wouldn’t marry because I’m not a hero!”

“What?” He sighs, “okay, if I did say that I was probably just agreeing with you.”

“Well you did. You did say it. And I just can’t unhear the judgement in your voice.”

“Oh my god! Give me fucking break.” He shouts, “you don’t feel judged by me, you don’t and you know you don’t. You have judgement on yourself and you’re making this about me.” He pauses to look at you, “I have been nothing but supportive of you. You say you want to be attorney I say “that’s great, I love you.” but then you don’t believe me, so then you say you want to volenteer at an library for underprivileged youth, and I say “that’s great, I love you.” And then you’re mad at me for supporting that, it’s like I can’t fucking win with you!”

“Cause you never should have let me do the library, Dick!” You sigh, “like you know me better than anybody and you let me quit a job that I love to go teach children to fucking read! You should’ve stopped me!”

“You kept saying that that was what you wanted and it’s not my fucking job to make you be honest with me!”

“Yeah you’re right, I don’t know what came over me I’m sorry.” You say in defeat just wanted the argument to end

“No your not because you still think I’m in the wrong. I’m not. You make everything constantly about you. You don’t care about at all about Nightwing except how it relates to you, how it makes you feel. And it’s exhausting. Like what about me? I want somebody to show up for me and to support me. Not just someone who’s always thinking about themselves. And if you do have a problem you need to fucking talk to me.” He pauses for emphasis, “but instead you spin and spin and you quit your job and you hide things from me, like we’re in a relationship, we’re supposed to be partners”

“Dick what the fuck do you want me to do? I patch you up after patrol, I stay up for you because I know you don’t want to go to sleep alone, I follow your rules because I know it’s for my safety. What more do you want?”

“I want you to see that what I do is for greater good!”

“Yes I do, you make that perfectly clear! And I’m sure if it were between me and the fucking greater good you would choose the greater good! Because I’m no fucking Starfire or fucking Batgirl, I’m just me and apparently that’s not enough for you!”

“Oh my god this again! How many times do I have to tell you that I love you for you?!?”

“I never said you didn’t, you just don’t love me as much as you love them! You’ve made that as clear as a window.”

“Is this about the marriage thing because if it is then fine let’s go get married.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand because you’re acting fucking crazy!”

“I don’t want you to marry me out of spite! I want you to marry me because you want to! And that isn’t the fucking problem!”

“Then what is?”

“I can’t be what you want!”

“I have never said that!”

“You don’t have to I can fucking feel it!”

Dick sighs, “fine if you can’t see that I love you for who you are then maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

“Yeah maybe.” You sigh, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.”

“I’m going out.” He says as he walks out the door and slams it.

When the door shuts you mutter a ‘fuck you to’ to particularly no one. Then you rush to the bathroom for a nice clearing your mind shower. What the fuck was happening. What the actual fuck. Was this the end of a five year relationship. Just like that five year relationship down the drain. Well not just like that, it’s been a long time coming. Recently you’ve started to notice that the relationship was slowly and painfully becoming more of a burden then a joy. You cut your hair, he didn’t notice. You hardly ever saw him anymore because of his work, and when you did it was just arguing. You would call him and it would go to voicemail and you would listen to it because you haven’t heard his voice in a while. And you thought that maybe a job that helps people more would bring you closer to him, but it didn’t. If anything it made things worse, you resented him as if he made you get the job. And you resented for not seeing that you resented him. You didn’t want to resent him because that was the first sign of a end of a relationship. And it feels so fucking horrible to resent the person you love for no reason. He didn’t make you quit your job, you made yourself. He was right it’s not his job to make you be honest with him. None of this was his fault. And you know he feels the same way. You saw the sparkle in his eyes leave. You felt him seeing you as a chore to check off his to-do list. You see him see you as to needy. So you saw the end coming. You just didn’t know it would be so painful. You guess it’s true what people say, “sometimes people just grow apart”.

As the cold water hits your skin, you’re brought out of your thoughts. The hot having turning cold reminded you just how long you have been in the shower. But instead of getting out, you let the water stream down your face, disguising your tears.

…

After a long hard talk about what you both want, you decided it was time to go.

“so I guess this is goodbye?” you say with a bitter sweet smile

“Yeah I guess.” He says with that same bittersweet smile.

“I’ve regretted endless things but I don’t think I’ll ever regret you. You taught me how to love and for that I’m forever grateful.” You state walking over to him to embrace him in hug

Dick welcomes the hug and mumbles “I hate how you’re so poetic even in a time of despair.”

“Oh please you love that about me!” You pull back appalled

“Yeah I guess” he sighs

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you to”

“Goodbye.” You say as you let go of his hands

“Goodbye.” As he says it you have to hold back from saying ‘I love you’ because now he wasn’t yours.

You turn to leave and are you about to open the door but pause. There’s so many unsaid words. Unfinished dreams. Unfulfilled accomplishments. But maybe they were better off left that way. You then open the door and leave behind a whirlwind of memories but also find new ones. You do not know what will come from Dick’s part in your life but you know it led you closer to you’re happy ending. While you still love him, you realized you’re just not what each other need anymore and that’s okay.

[theredofoctober]

Shingleback— A Wolf Creek Darkfic

Mick Taylor x Virgin Female Reader

Synopsis: A road trip to visit relatives ends abruptly when Mick Taylor crosses your path

Trigger/Content Warnings: non con, violence, death (not reader)

Read after the cut

-

Smoke in your lungs, your mouth, in the porcelain shard of sky you see through the one eye not shut with blood. The air reeks of engine oil and char, and blackened flesh.

Someone is surely dead in the wreckage of the car, and you are not yet sure that it’s not you.

Footsteps, crunching through glass and stones. A whistle in the quiet.

Someone crouches over you at the side of the road, blinding you in a black trough of shadow.

“Fuck me,” he says. “Still breathin’. Ya got lucky. Your fella’s a goner, sweetheart.”

Fella.

Your father. He had been at the wheel, championing a road trip to visit obscure relatives, whom you’d never met, nor particularly cared to.

The drive had been harsh, all stark light and barren road.

Dread was in the yellow of the horizon. The air had hissed with its song.

“I don’t want to go,” you’d said. “I don’t know these people. It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. It’ll be weird.”

“Ah, it’ll be fine,” your father had replied, falsely jolly, consulting a map. “They’re all solid blokes. What are you worrying for?”

You rested your brow against the windowpane, soothing the beginnings of an ache.

“Just don’t feel like going. Can’t help worrying about Mom.”

The drive had continued in silence, for a time. Neither of you had wanted to reach for the radio.

“Yeah,” you father had said, at last. “Same here. But there’s no point stewing at home waiting for her, eh?”

You’d begun to answer, your words blown away in a gale of events.

Something had taken out a back wheel, then a front one. There had been something up ahead— a sign, you’d thought, and then the vehicle had been through it and over it and on its back, and burning.

You’d come loose from the car like a coin from a threadbare pocket, and now you’re lying in the silhouette of a man that smells like sweat and gunfire.

“Let’s have a look at you, then,” he says.

His voice is rough, friendly, salt of the earth. A working man’s accent. Trustable, if you did not know what he had done.

He brushes your hair back from your forehead, grunting at the cut that splits it like chopped wood.

“You’re gonna have one beauty of a scar if I don’t see to it. Looks like you’re coming home with me, love. I’m Mick, by the way. Mick Taylor. Nice to meet ya.”

You see the gun on his arm, know well that he put out the wheels.

Your lips part with a whispered rejection of his aid.

Mick scowls, his eyes squinting, all narrow malice.

“Eh? Listen, you can lie here like your mate there, or I can stitch you back together and getcha lookin’ decent. Choice is yours.”

The man chortles, a filthy, porcine sound.

“Just jokin’. I’m keeping ya. Know what’ll happen if you lie out here all night? Dingos’ll eat ya. Snakes’ll bite you. Either way, you’ll wind up fuckin’ dead, right. Don’t want that, do ya, Sheila?”

“My Dad,” you whisper—the fire has guttered your throat, leaving you with a geriatric croak. “He needs help.”

The figure leering over you shifts back slightly, and you glimpse his face. Sun-beaten skin, small, malignant eyes. Cleft chin. Hair grown down either side of his jaw like chin straps, bookends for a blunt-toothed grin.

“Your Dad’s fucked, darlin’. Legs burnt off. Probably got one foot in the grave. Or not, eh?”

Another rattling laugh. You try to sit up, going limp under a wash of pain.

“Here ya go,” says Mick, helpfully turning you onto your side. “See for yourself. I pulled him out of the wreck, but he’s barely hangin’ on. Doubt he’ll see tomorrow.”

Your father slumps, a charred half-man, still in the road. All the heat runs out of you through your head, and you sit up as though from a dream.

One of your ears buzzes, an imagined sound. You will never quite unhear it again.

“Dad,” you say— your voice is still barely audible, even to you. “Dad?”

His mouth twitches, and you glance up at Mick, knowing you cannot go to him for help.

“Bugger’s alive, is he?” asks Mick, noticing the stir of movement. “Must be bloody sore. Better put him out of his misery.”

Concussed, you do not understand the statement until Mick strides across to your father’s body and hefts the gun.

Three shots ring out.

The dying man jumps and dances briefly, festooned in a display of blood. Then he falls, faceless, his head dangled on the blown-off reed of his neck, and you look at Mick with a hollow terror that makes you almost calm in its flat emptiness.

“Did you both a favour,” he says, all broad, square teeth. “Wouldn’t want him watchin’ what I’m going to do to you when I get ya back.”

You leave your heart there on the road, another burned, dead thing in the humming afternoon.

*

Mick takes you to the remnants of a mine, carrying you down into the dark across his shoulder, as he might hoist the body of a deer. The stench of rot and ammonia passes over you in an acrid haze. A menagerie smell, of human animals.

There have been others, held here. Others killed in the belly of the ground.

Mick sits you against the bars of an iron cage, pleased by your lack of resistance.

“That’s it,” he says. “Nice and quiet. Wouldn’t want to have to cut your tongue out. Can’t scream me name if ya can’t talk.”

He goes over you with brutish hands, looking for injuries. One wrist violet with bruising, both knees skinned, the slash across your brow: aside from this, and the concussion, you are otherwise unscathed.

“You must be made of rubber,” says Mick, as he cleans your wounds with a bit of murky alcohol on a rag. “One hell of a tumble you took, there.”

Thanks to you, you think, but say nothing, are still an hour back in time, watching your father’s body leap in the force of gunfire.

“So,” says Mick, sitting back to observe his work under the dim light. “What were you and your dear old dad doing here in Australia?”

You do not answer, owe him nothing, this shooter of men.

Mick’s face darkens. Reaching forward, he squeezes your sprained wrist until you cough up bile between your legs, black stars churning in the cell before you.

“Start talkin’,” says Mick. “I’m not pissin’ around.”

“Dad’s from here,” you choke out. “Was. We were going to visit family.”

Your captor grunts in disbelief.

“Doubt it. Ya talk like a Yank.”

The disparagement in his tone is a steel edge you know better than to touch.

“My Mom’s American,” you say. “I grew up there. That’s why I don’t have any accent at all.”

“Hmm.”

To your relief, Mick softens, seeming to regard you with a more favourable look. His eyes are small, light, with a cold friendliness about them that you might have liked, had he not introduced himself in such slaughterous practice.

His tone, too, is conversational, as though he did not wear the shrapnel of blood and bone upon him, still.

“Where’s your Mum, then?” he asks.

You look down at the bile cooling in the dirt, its bitterness another stink in the fetid gloom.

“She ran away.”

Mick’s smile hardens.

“Got sick of your Dad, did she?”

“No. She’s got mental health problems. She stops taking her meds. Runs off. Comes back a month or so later. Nothing we can do.”

It seems a trite conversation to share with a killer, but you will sustain it, if it distracts him from thoughts of harm.

“So your Mum’s left ya,” says Mick, “and your Dad’s dead. Halfway to being an orphan, eh?”

You wipe your face gingerly, appalled by the absence of tears, the correct emotion. Certainly you feel it, somewhere, kept as though beneath an upturned glass. But you cannot express it, though it may buy you favour to cry.

“Dad’s family are gonna worry about me,” you say, softly. “If I don’t turn up.”

Mick’s brow furrows. It is a mistake to threaten him, even so subtly as this.

“They can keep worryin’,” he growls. “Can’t send ya back, now can I? You’d go tellin’ everyone about what I’ve been doing out here. Can’t let ya do that, Sheila.”

You push your hands behind you, clinging to the iron ice of the bars until your palms burn.

“But I don’t know what you’ve been doing,” you say. “I don’t want to know. I’ll say I don’t know who attacked me and my Dad. I didn’t see your face. I don’t know your name.”

Mick moves towards you, and you shift along the side of the cage, your spine ringing across the bars.

“I don’t trust ya,” he says, quite pleasantly. “You seppos can’t keep your mouths shut for one bloody minute. You’d be spillin’ your guts before ya knew you were doin’ it.”

He takes hold of your right leg and hauls you towards him, scraping your back as your t-shirt rides up across the floor. A knife is produced from somewhere, an evil fragment of silver moonlight, and you gasp, rigid in anticipation of it against your throat.

“Don’t piss yourself,” says Mick. “I’m not plannin’ to kill ya after doin’ such a stellar job of cleanin’ your injuries.”

Knotting his fist in your shirt, he cuts it from your body, repeating the action with your ruined jeans. You don’t dare raise a hand to prevent him, seeing the proficiency with which he wields his blade.

“Oh no,” you whisper, pathetic in your dread of what he means to do.

“Figured it out, have ya?” asks Mick, and grins, one crude hand snapping the elastic of your thin undergarments. “What else would I do with ya? Didn’t bring you down here for a chat.”

You close your bandaged knees, but Mick snaps them tersely open, turning the knife under the light again until you slacken to his will.

If your heart beats quickly, you cannot feel it: you are numb from the head down, insensible. Staring through the man before you, seeing the darkness in him waver, a living shadow.

Mick crouches between your legs, his fingers upon you with a hostile agility. He watches your face closely, eating of even the merest gesture of your suffering.

“Fair warning,” he says. “I’m going to hurt ya.”

You’re dry when he enters you, but as his knuckles clench you’re quickly soaked, the sounds of your flesh awakening to him an echo in the mine.

Mick’s eyebrows jump in bald surprise.

“Strewth, you’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t ya, daddy’s girl? Do ya always get this wet for blokes old enough to be your father, or just your Uncle Mick?”

His thumb roughs the jewel of nerves you’d hoped he’d avoid. You gasp strengthlessly, roll your head on your neck. Stare into the corpse flavoured dark; anywhere but his face, his eyes.

A blow to the face has you jolting back up like a roused snake, blinking, stone drunk with shock.

Mick leers down at you, his thick fingers still hooked through your cunt.

“Make some bloody racket, will you? I ain’t fuckin’ a dead sheila tonight. Would have left you in that burnt-out wreck of a foreign car if I thought you’d give up the fight this quick.”

You try to focus your stare, find the veins of your fear to bleed for him. The impression of Mick’s hand throbs across your eye, swelling the lid.

“Stop,” you rasp. “Stop it.”

Movement in your gut: a maggot of shame.

The old man smirks, and leans over you, his beer-musked breath making darts of the down on your bruised cheek.

“There ya go,” he says. “A bit of protest. I love it.”

He kisses you, forcing his tongue between your chipped teeth, all spit, and cigarettes, and drink. His thumb keeps up its relay across your clitoris, its callous tousling your silk. Cunningly, he hunts your climax, knowing he can turn it out.

Weakly, you scrape backwards on scabbed palms, Mick’s tongue still slid across yours. With a muttered oath, he kneels down on one leg, his weight a hanging rock.

“Keep your arse where it is. You’re comin’ for me, or I’m breakin' your fuckin’ legs, and I won’t be neat and tidy about it. Ya know what a compound fracture is, don’tcha? Bone through the skin, and a bastard to set right. Probably never seen one, a city brat like yourself. But you know what I’m talkin’ about.”

You watch his arm move, tanned tawny gold, bound in tattoos long faded by the sun, can’t look at his face in its ugliness and age, and slavering appetite. Sweat opals your forehead, and fevered shivers rip at you. Your mouth opens; the moan that drips free is someone else’s shame, a weak response to touch.

“You tourists are all the same,” says Mick, equally pleased and repulsed by the noise. “Whinge and whine about me putting me hands on ya, when all ya want under it all is a good root. I can feel you’re on the edge, orphan. Hips movin’. Hole squeezin’ down tight. Mind you don’t take me bloody fingers off, will ya?”

He chuckles, and brings his free hand to your breasts, pawing their flesh in his workman’s fist. The pain, the mockery— a signal crosses some incorrect road in your senses, for as Mick leans down to kiss you again you feel a tug of mad, sudden pleasure, casting itself through your loins and up into your mind like a flare thrown into the night.

His hand fucks you through it, pressing, relentless into your treachery. You break your fingernails on the filth beneath you, feel yourself torn, unwilling, from your distance like a marlin from the deepest sea. You breathe in sickly pants.

Savaged. Wounded.

“You’re a beauty,” says Mick, bringing his wet hand to his face to study its stolen glaze. “Take a look at the mess ya made. You oughta thank me, givin’ you a service like that. Half the time, I don’t bother. Just wanna get me dick in a hole and get to it.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he licks his hand, smacking his lips with a juicy pop. The noise—like gunfire, bullets in a tyre, in your father’s skull—startles you into action. The cage door is partway open; you lurch past Mick on your knees, all instinct, no thought as to what you’ll do beyond the mine.

“And where are you runnin’ off to, eh? Ya silly cunt.”

Mick is on your back in under a second, smacking the cage door shut on one of your outstretched hands. A scream evicts itself from you— parched, almost soundless, knocked back in by the blade Mick shunts beneath your chin.

“Told ya,” he growls, rutting against your hips for emphasis. “Either I fuck ya, or I kill ya, and I didn’t carry you all this way and stitch you up to finish ya quick. It’ll be slow and hard, and it’ll hurt. See how ya scream then, eh?”

“Please,” you say, to the knife as much as the man. “I can’t do what you want me to. I’ve never— I’ve never done that before. I’m scared.”

Mick puts the knife away and draws your head back to look you in the eye. His stare is hunger and dusk. Of hunting things in the desert.

“I know. Could tell you were a fuckin’ virgin. Bled on me hand, didn’tcha? Ain’t gonna stop me fuckin’ ya, though. Means I’ll be keepin’ you down here for a long time. Usin’ ya whenever I feel like it. But first, I have to break ya in.”

“Why?” you ask, as his belt buckle rings at your back, his shooter’s hands arrange you beneath him with the same familiarity with which he’d load his gun. “Why do you hurt people?”

Mick pauses, and when you glance back at him over his shoulder you see a real loathing sheen the vicious glass of his eyes.

“Because it’s what ya deserve. You, and all you cheap, noisy Americans, coming here, soiling my bloody land. Good thing you’ve got some Aussie in you, or I’d have to kill ya on principle. Not enough in you for me to turn ya loose, though.”

His knee opens your thighs, and you hear him clear his throat to spit in his hand, a home-grown lubricant. You stare at the bars of the cage until, in your vision, they smear into one broad stroke of rust. How cold the mine is, around you, in its coffin velvet darkness. All death, all hopeless night.

“Usually have to protect meself when I screw you tourist girls,” says Mick, conversationally. “Tend to be crawling with all sorts of nasties. But you’re clean as a whistle, ain’tcha, with a virgin cunt like yours.”

There is force at your sphere of heat, massive, bracing in the shoving pain that follows, the dirty grunts and curses blown against your ear like wind from some wretched sun-scoured isle. You dry heave across the dirt floor, spittle falling from the tip of your tongue in an unholy christening.

Surely you are baptised, now, by the way of brutality, a shingleback forced to mate, to exist beyond this point of anguish.

Mick’s hands punish your hips, their grip testing the joints. How comical he must look, plaid shirt pulled taut over his belly, the old hat still looming over his brow, with his untidy thrusts and growling breath. You know, as if by telepathy, how he savours the assault, how he sees himself the hunter, sinking his teeth into the meat of his quarry.

His cock beats a note of pain so close to pleasure that your nerves cannot mark the difference.

Perhaps it is easier, to take something from this agony, to find something amidst the fog. But then, perhaps you would rather it only hurt, a violence upon you, no different from the twisting of a spear up into your abdomen.

You’re wet as he fucks you, loudly so, the slick of it the music of the mine.

“Never had a girl drip on me cock like you, Sheila,” says Mick, slapping your flank heartily as he withdraws. “Let’s getcha on your back so I can have a look at ya.”

He turns you with a careless shove, snorting as you cover your eyes like a child afraid of the beast under its bed.

“Christ,” says Mick. “Can’t stomach seein’ an old bloke like me makin’ ya come? Probably finger yourself thinkin��� about some soft bloody film star. Well, you can get over it. You’re mine now, darlin’. Never lettin’ you go.”

He drags you to him by the hips, bending your legs back at such an angle you sense, with certainty, that he means to fill you to your greatest depth. You tense, try, with feeble hands, to push at his chest as he bears down on you again.

“Please,” you say. “Please, no more, please, please...”

Terror strikes through you in a fork of black lightning as Mick leans down, his eyes narrowed, hateful.

“Shut up,” he sneers. “Look down, ya uptight bloody American princess. You’re gonna watch me fuck ya.”

With a terse jolt he moves your head downwards. You see his cock in one tanned hand, pushing back into your ravaged entrance in one slow, mean thrust. Unnatural, the size of him, a surrealist nightmare depiction of male aggression.

The tempo of it drawing in and out of you may as well be the digging of a grave in all its dark purpose. Your breasts rise and fall with its movement, your skin awash in the hideous light shone down from the naked bulb overhead, the yellow of a cartoon sun.

You hear your own voice, disembodied, the chatter of a ventriloquist’s doll.

“Mick. Mick, it hurts.”

“Should bloody hope so,” he sneers, and he hits you; the rusty pain in that same abused cheek runs down your neck into your loins, and you are afraid of yourself as much as this monster, in your weakness.

You cling to Mick’s arms suddenly, which are firm from his grisly work, and he snickers.

“Like that, do ya? Never would have guessed it, to look at ya.”

He palms your chest, yellowed teeth bared as he rolls upon you, chafing your spine against the floor. His ugliness is your greatest shame, every line in his weathered face mocking you with its affront.

You cannot wrench your eyes away, staring up at him even as you wish only to turn to the dark. Ghosts seem to whisper to you from the corners, holding you accountable for the plaits of ecstasy that wind your cunt tight around your attacker.

You throb with the need of release, with its inevitable approach, uninvited.

He killed your father. He has raped and killed and rode his ruthless path through the Outback for decades, and you are going to come with him within you. Come from the chemical bewilderment of fear, and grief, and the force of him in the new wound of taken virginity.

If you survive him, it will be as a ghoul, undead, unfeeling. You yearn for him to return to the knife and end you, but you know from the glee in his eyes that he means to have you live as long as your flesh can withstand his horror.

“You’re a looker, y’know,” breathes Mick, putting a hand behind your head in a rancid performance of romance. “Scars and all. Give me a kiss, eh?”

He runs his tongue through your lips, and you gasp as a vent of andesite heat bisects you in your climax. Your enemy gives a throaty laugh, fucking you through each layer of orgasm until all that is left is the pain, and the width of him within you.

“Bet you’ve never come like that before, have ya?” he gloats. “Look scared to death. Jesus. I could fuck ya for days.”

But you feel his strokes taking an erratic quality, hear the shortening of his breath. He’s close, and you doubt he means to save you the dread of him finishing in your satin warmth.

Still, you beseech, feel at the very least that your begging will end this.

“Don’t... I mean, inside me, I...”

Mick smirks, gripping you by the chin to bring you eye to eye.

“Darlin’,” he croons. “I’m gonna be blowin’ me load in ya cunt until the day I kill ya.”

He licks your face of sweat and blood, and grips you to him as he reaches his bellowing crisis. You feel him pulse, the overflow of his spend trailing your inner thigh in its salt moisture, and close your eyes, stepping in to embrace your defeat.

Mick stands up, buckling his trousers, whistling a jolly, off-key tune. You lie as he left you, thinking of nothing, your mind and senses ground out into ash. Day in, day out, this is to be your life, whore to the devil of the land.

It seems that you died in the car, after all.

By God, you wish that you had.

---

Chapter Two is now here

[amidst-wonderland]

dragon age: the veilguard | thoughts

spoilers below! (summary of three playthroughs, but really two meshed together - crow/lof!female!elf!rook & mournwatch!male!human!rook)

rook is so pretty! (my mum was like, "bit narcissistic, don't you think?")

oh the hair physics are so good.

think there’s a glitch on the human inquisition cc cause it’s making the eyelashes and eyebrows the same colour.

strife’s va sounds like bruce greenwood so i can’t unhear batman.

i feel like some of the va’s are hit or miss, some of them are so dry is bordering on flat, particularly neve, who slips into some american? even though she’s english.

can’t believe rook can be a gordie, right bioware, head up past the border next time!

we meet again cor vincent and chloe.

gimmie back the griffins!

i dunno what to make of neve to be honest.

i’m gonna go back and update my thoughts on this after i’ve beaten the game, so unlike my other ones, because i’m going in blind in terms of characterisations cause i already knew everyone in p3, ff15, spidey and rebirth.

checking out the cauldron with the elf squad.

i’m kinda gutted there’s not all lot of calls to the fact rook is an elf in-terms of grievances with npc’s. more seem to find issue with her previous occupation than that of her own gods tearing down the world and you only get internal conversations with bellara.

not enough spite for my liking. his first scene was so intriguing, like we don’t really know what draws him to rook, especially when lucanis can end up with neve but he still likes rook.

i don’t know if anyone else says anything, but it’s nice to know neve approves of rook’s relationship choices (i think taash does?)

gotta say, i think all the characters have grown on me but davrin, emmerich and bellara especially.

it really bothers me there’s no specific lines about rook being an elf trying to save lace from her magical rage, considering her channelled speech. there is, it’s just really long winded because you don’t get it until one of the solas regret debriefs which was 10-15+ hrs later for me.

“i’m a mage! i’m a mage!” yeah, y’know who else is? rook! and the only people to mention it is lace and taash.

i don’t care about the “dog-ification” of mythical creatures, assan is my baby and you get to hug him!

wow, i though cyberpunk had dire clothing options. my favourite is rook’s default.

too many english characters not saying “arse”.

is it just me or was taash’s non-binary story not handled well? it was so hand fisted and that isabela scene was so awkwardly done.

taash has the best and worst emotional range, but it think that’s more down to the voice direction and writing.

mage rook plays like a significantly more aggressive aerith.

well played bioware ya got me (rip)

#elfsquadkillsthedreadwolf (honestly, this feels right. the elf heroes, taking on an elf tyrant to take down the elevan gods and i’m a little annoyed they don’t toy with rook about the fact she is an elf enough).

yes, i stupidly got harding killed and neve captured but, bellara is my healer with a hardened neve and i googled what happened if davrin got killed and i couldn’t let my baby assan go like that, as poetic as it is.

it’s weird seeing “fucking” in the choice, i’ve only heard two drops of it, maybe two. lucanis, then i think taash might have.

okay… so, #superelfsquadkillselgar’nan.

i love playing a pint-sized lass taking on the world, considering i never really get to.

those cut lucanis scenes are my thirteenth reason. like seriously?! first river now lucanis?! it’s so blatantly obvious that scene pre minrathous isn’t their first kiss and i’m willing to bet it’s not their first bang either. like imagine cutting a character’s romance arc so bad that the player character has their first kiss offscreen. my guess is, the scene back at the lighthouse we got was your debrief scene later in the game and it was supposed to be the gondola scene at the villa because the jump cut is far to jarring and doesn’t fit what lucanis actually says, which to paraphrase is, “peace out, i’m gonna go fuck my girlfriend.”

rook joking her, belle and darvin are elf spirits is pretty funny

elgar’nan says “you will regret that” and all i could hear was was bandit heeler unicorse’s “you will live to regret that.”

there’s a part of me thinking that it’s more fitting for bellara to take the fall instead of neve with everything the elves have been put through via the gods and the fact the gods are taken down by their own people in the end. then again, she might be dead cause i’ve not seen that route.

my rook has put neve through the ringer and she’s completely my collateral damage. like babe, i’m sorry but i can’t break up the elf squad, bellara is my healer (a collateral in itself) and i didn’t want locked out of lucanis.

i just know spite said something vile to lucanis about rook and that’s why he didn’t kiss her.

i don’t love the implications that neve and lucanis end up together (and it’s fine if you do) but on both a story level and meta it’s contradictory and kinda insulting. neve’s romance isn’t locked if you don’t go with her, but it’s not the same vice-versa, not to mention it makes his feelings for rook feel a little disingenuous and that it was just spite who liked rook, when he implies that he’s not keen on neve. lucanis is willing to forgive neve but not rook especially with attempting to throw treviso under the bus (which, fair enough) and he’s willing to look past that? also, once again whilst yes, it’s a “straight romance” it’s primarily female players getting shafted, again. plus i get it’s his personality but they two still flirt until you lock-in with lucanis. like my babe rook who is serving more face than anyone on this team will not play second fiddle.

also, you get more content if you go as a crow which makes sense and it wouldn’t bother me so much if the game made up for it in other ways, lucanis is a mage killer and yet there’s no comment on it. even on the elf thing, there could’ve been a comment from any of them, particularly lucanis (if you wanna do it in a flirty way), his grandmother or teia that the crows like recruiting elf’s to disarm human targets because they find them attractive.

the lines you get about and from viago are hilarious as a crow, rook is his liability baby. i would have paid to see the look on his face when he found out about rook and lucanis

the fact that the treviso missions are kinda brushed over as a “battle for the cowl” thing, baring in mind, lucanis doesn’t seem too fussed about being first really bothers me. the crows are a dark faction, illario and lucanis went through child abuse at the hands of their grandmother as child soldiers and none of that is handled.

seeing the sketches of the cut content confirms it could’ve been a lot tonally darker.

the venetori are truly the most gullible cult. like you pissed off your bosses because you killed an elevan creation, how did you think that would go?!

pissed the only scottish accents i’ve heard are venetori.

we literally did shrooms with davrin.

i killed manfred and i regret it. emmrich said a line about “honouring the dead” and i was like fair, but then i thought about it more and… i don’t like the implications of emmrich running from death and i think you’re giving in to his flaws. also, finally a matt mercer voice i couldn’t recognise.

it’s the fact rook calls out to harding in the fade and it’s neve that’s with her, it’s all coming full circle.

i accidentally made my inquisitor really small and i knew i wanted to get the true ending so all i could think in the final battle was, “rook’s already tiny compared to solas and my inquisitor is even smaller, how is that kiss gonna work?!” but it was actually fine.

“varric is-“ and there it is. solas’ angle on rook. i’d argue solas toying with rook about varric is what he assume would be her undoing but it ended up being the catalyst to his downfall.

gameplay-wise, incredibly fun. the third act is the strongest if i’m honest but, it would be helpful is rook wasn’t the ai’s only target.

i was running about for so long trying to wonder what i had missed in the heart of corruption. turns out i had opened the champion blight wall in the converged city but not gone down to beat it.

beat the game in 50hrs, had almost all factions at 3 stars (except the wardens and shadow dragons) and got solas to do the right thing.

strife and emmerich?! omfg that’s amazing, could call rook a tactical matchmaker.

i’m not seeing enough people talk about this but that fact lucanis got on his knees for rook. a crow, the first talon, a dellamorte… like it was so fucking sweet, and the wings! spite doesn’t get involved my ass.

if you romance lucanis, that final fight with ghilan'nain is with an added layer of stress but it’s the fact rook get grabbed before getting him out and other than rook (and harding / davrin) he was the closest to ghilan’nain and they know.

most of lucanis’ lines are just him saying rook in a different tone.

evka really grew on me. i honestly thought her and antoine were one and done appearances just to link you to davrin but i was pleasantly surprised they follow you through to endgame.

ghilan'nain only calls out bellara and davrin for being elves coming to get her and rook’s just there like “and i’m what?”

considering the distain solas, elgar’nan and ghilan’nain have for the elves of today it’s so good to be with the elf squad.

i think i’ve finally got solas shtick down. it’s that he can do wrong, do right but cannot take accountability.

i love the fact the team squad can start with four women (two, potentially three woc and a dwarf) bet the grifters were real pissed. then a bisexual assassin who’s a big softie.

yeah, taash basically says to lucanis, “ya’ll should bone with the wings.” i stand by the fact taash is most definitely autistic and it’s amazing.

people seem to forget da is modern fantasy, and not medieval. non-binary is not “out of place” any more than lucanis saying elevator to davrin (literally a captain america reference) and minrathous has magical neon signs.

rook literally says to davrin, “…and we’ll head to treviso.” even though you don’t have to take him.

okay, there’s two non-venetori scottish npc and what the fuck is that one in minrathous' accent?

rook not having a default ‘rook’ casual wear is kinda annoying. i hate how your outfit has to look like the factions.

does the human rook honour the dead in english?

“i also used to wet the bed, want me to start up that again.” / “i’d rather you didn’t.”

spite missing manfred is so cute

the lucanis and davrin soup poison conversation is hilarious.

saw a tiktok talking about how we could’ve played as the inquisitor during the three weeks rook was gone, helping to build back the team and honestly that would’ve been perfect. rook is their glue and after loosing three people the are not okay. so, based on who i had left you could see glimpses on them coping, taash finally turning emmerich to help with their grief, finding bellara in neve’s room or it getting a little dicey between davrin and lucanis, who to me, probably take rook’s disappearance the hardest (outside of romance), with the romance angle it’s so much worse for they two and their natural dispositions butting heads in a “i have to let her go or it will kill me.” vs. “it’ll kill me if i do.” plus, it adds so much more to the solavellan ending with her being there and it could be her idea to make the fake dagger.

dying at rook translating isabella’s elven mishap.

the way she announces spite is like, “the incredible demon spite!” then is like, “oh and lucanis is here too, i guess.”

lucanis is a girl dad, the way he is with mila and has had enough of “girl dinner”.

“she’s a cloud! how do i kill a cloud with a dagger?!”

(bellara to emmerich on elves as spirits) “i asked davrin about it and he just shrugged!” / “pfft. he would.” (rook seemed ambivalent in her answer).

davrin has the most compelling arc, like i did not expect that to go the way it would and the warden’s without a shadow of a doubt don’t deserve those griffins back.

there’s a part of me that feels sorry ghilan’nain she’s as much a victim as she is villain. seeing the venetori hurt that halla confirms it. similarly with her archdemon. she is their protector, creator. elgar’nan groomed her and i stand by it. i don’t forgive nor absolve but contextually i can see this damage is not all her own volition.

everything varric says comes into so much question, especially the talk just before fighting the two dragons in the wetlands. even if rook fights him on it, solas makes it clear the team must be willing to die for the cause, for her. then, back at the lighthouse, what does varric press her to do? help her team get past their issues. also this might not be intentional but sometimes varric but you can hear solas’ accent (which, the va seems to be leaning more into his welsh accent for solas).

on accents, rook saying “fix up your gear” and “we’re in dock town proper.” in the thickest gordie accent is incredible. i was half expecting her to finish the latter sentence with “like”. this woman’s giving “i’ve got paper-cuts on top of fucking paper-cuts.”

emmerich’s transmog has glitched out on the most horrific outfit.

i’m actually really pissed off that rook isn’t in the ‘ossuary’ with spite. like i get the devs were real excited about neve and lucanis but it just feels like a kick in the teeth.

“is this elf your servant?” there’s two elves pal. then bellara does back it up with the fact they respect “human mages.”

elgar’nan’s planning to sacrifice elves for, some would argue retribution. lucanis do you really think this is the best time to have your first domestic with your elven missus?! (no but him yelling at rook, the gate and the lock is hilarious).

i just know lucanis is a loving, low-key handsy drunk and rook putting him to bed after drinking with davrin would’ve been so cute!

rook and harding are having a heart to heart and rook is apologetic about the titans, then davrin talks about how solas doesn’t feel guilty because he did it. then it cuts to lucanis is this weird meta way who just says “mierda’ after a pause like he remembers the camera has cut to him.

vorgoth’s “rook” and a wave is so funny.

“till taash teaches him how to swear…”

almost thought spite was going to look to the camera and to “bleugh!” at rook and lucanis.

i just know rook finally let go the breath she’d holding when she heard lucanis shout for her after the ghilan’nain fight.

still can’t believe the inquisitior’s va is alt from cyberpunk.

“mortal threats are a dull blade.” goes so hard, and honestly at the gloom howler’s core you can understand and sympathise how her anger and hurt manifested.

crow!rook not being able to have the same grace as neve for not saving minrathous is kinda icky. like, yeah you’re angry about your home but also mine was also being attacked.

the way evka is constantly making faces at rook during weisshaupt’s boardroom like, “oh my christ, you are not helping.” then when rook runs off to the dragon trap, she looks at antoine like, “is she for real?”

“tell me about you and lucanis.” omfg, lavellan! morrigan stalking rook’s love life was not on my bingo card.

can we talk about the fact that lucanis technically doesn’t actually, succeed at anything he was recruited for? he missed the first time, harding / davrin provided a distraction the second and teia saves his ass the third. rook you’ve bagged a man that is perpetually failing upwards.

next run is gonna be a male rook, or another female rook but i wanna see bellara and davrin's romances next cause both times i did lucanis, because i wanted to see if being a crow makes a difference, it doesn't. it's more teia and viago scenes that change.

veilguard insists on, "solas's" instehad of "solas'" and its throwing me off.

bare with me, but someone on tiktok pointed out that despite the cut content, lucanis and rook feel the most ‘canon’ to the overarching theme and that in love, rook is a foil for solas. rook has everything he wanted and lucanis is everything he wanted to be for mythal and lavellan, similarly with zara and illario who took advantage of the envy demon. it’s why he chooses to fuck with rook about lucanis specifically because he constantly talks about the sacrifices rook has to make for love, despite never doing it himself out of fear. rook doesn’t have that, she drops the ball and scarified a member of her team to ensure lucanis’ safety and loses the upper hand in the fight, she stands by him even when the team don’t risking their trust in their shared goal, which exactly what solas is afraid of. unlike solas, lucanis lets rook in, he doesn’t want spite near her and he’s scared but he takes that risk, and again, every bit of love he’s had has been transactional - like solas and mythal - and it takes him so long to accept that rook’s isn’t, he lets go of his fear that he might loose her. hell, taking all of that and everything she’s been through with lucanis and pushes the lesson learned onto lavellan. solas knows everything lucanis and rook have been through and uses the consistent fear she has to break her, the same way it would him. he didn’t really make the sacrifice to leave lavellan just mitigated it, which lavellan points out. his fear that her love would stop him or that she would turn against the real him. on that ghilan’nain fight, lucanis could’ve dropped the dagger and saved harding, but he didn’t because it was at the cost of rook’s life and the one thing she had asked from him.

currently making an edit for my rook but why the fuck does she smile like taerae? 😭😭😭

the way you find out that lucanis and rook are already doing it from a conversation between lucanis and taash and a codex from lucanis.

i’m still so pissed off at the neve and lucanis have re-used scenes from lucanis and rook! like nothing about their romance feels inherently special. you don’t even have a conversation about spite on an intimate level (and neve and lucanis literally do!). from the concept art, it looked like it happened but lucanis really needed a scene were spite got genuine out of hand with rook and they work through it. nothing on lucanis knowing rook’s footsteps in the romance route?!

michelle gomez is playing ghilan’nain?!

i hate lucanis’ cartoony pirate boots.

this, is what rook is wearing casually as far as i’m concerned. top | skirt | boots | necklace

feeding into the whole, elves are more likely to have twins. liv and lucanis have two twin girls then a boy.

the snort i let out when i got to the final romance scene, like woah babe, they are out. i keep thinking because of the new art-style they’d be a bit more conservative but no. good for you rook, as a former member of the itty bitty tittie committee.

i know viago and teia ripped lucanis a new one when they found out about rook getting trapped in fade.

my rook: olivia “liv” de riva. (i consider my second run as my ‘canon’ run.)

just for a little background on liv, she’s the daughter of a cityelf!mage!warden and zevran, who was taken by the crows when they’d gotten a general idea of his location, raided their home and only to find their five-year-old, and a family friend looking after her. she was “dumped” in antiva only to be taken in by an older elven crow and put through their training in those following years. viago gave her the nickname, “rook” and she’s been going by it longer than she ever did olivia. to put it lightly, olivia is very much her mother’s daughter and the crows didn’t love that. i know zevran’s heart fucking breaks when he sees his little “olive” dressed in a crow’s attire aiming a blade at him. (i’m messing with the timeline because i don’t like the idea of lucanis dating someone that young, so olivia is twenty-eight/nine and not around twenty.) zevran and the warden have been trying to track down their daughter from hiding and after the game ends rook goes looking for them, with teia, viago (and to some extent) lucanis trying to talk her out of it knowing what she might find, especially as the attack was ordered by caterina. rook almost gives in until, a certain apostate puts a spanner in the works. though very much in her own, morrigan way because it can never be too easy. (this woman’s shit was thoroughly rocked in arlathan).

started a new playthrough as male!human!mournwatch!rook and seeing him sitting in the chair liv used to sit in is so funny because she was barely taller than its back and he’s a head above it.

i’m still debating whether to romance neve or bellara as this rook (ward) because on the one hand, rook and neve look good together and sapphic’s galore with bellara, but also i just really wanna play through bellara’s romance and just happen to be a male!rook. this is a me thing where i’m like, “this is too heteronormative” but also, being a “straight” couple doesn’t take away from their bisexuality, just like it doesn’t take away from mine, regardless of who i’m dating. and as much as i want to romance harding, taash deals with enough shit in this game, they at the very least should get the girl.

listen, if her short king first talon wasn’t around liv would be salivating over this man.

i’d probably say in-terms of friendship, olivia is closest with davrin, bellara and harding. for ward, it’s taash, davrin, neve and probably emmrich but i wouldn’t class that as friendship, more respect and having a shared background.

i forgot the vibe when meeting the crows is so different if you aren’t a crow. like if you save treviso, rook shouting in relief for viago hits so much harder if they’re a de riva. it’s giving, “help is on the way dear!” from viago coming to save his liability’s ass.

the utter disgust lucanis has for tea is hilarious.

i picked minrathous this time and the guilt is already killing me, but i’m trying to switch it up a little in-terms of party, so i don’t need to prioritise lucanis in gameplay nor approval and i didn’t expect to be back in the opening sections sector (plus also, i cannot be arsed with minrathous becoming a maze again) i just want lucanis to know that in an alternative universe there is a half-pint crow that would die for him. to be honest, in-terms of role-playing, i do think ward would pick minrathous. he’s closer to neve than olivia ever was (especially when it comes to comparing their individual relationships with lucanis), he’s a human mage and has no personal connection to either city just a devotion being a venetori hater and whilst olivia has mixed feelings about the crows (the poor girl didn’t exactly volunteer willingly) going off the crows actual depiction (and not freedom fighter bs) he isn’t their biggest fan.

ward’s core party: taash, emmrich and back-burner, neve and davrin.

liv’s core party: lucanis, bellara and davrin on the back-burner (because the #elfsquad means everything to me but my girl also needs to have one eye on the fight and the other on her bf).

everyone around him knows that in another life, ward was a grey warden, and yes, the pun is always fully intended. the meta of this, is that he originally was a grey warden but i was curious about the mourn watch backstory so i’m going to play dwarven grey warden next.

babe’s getting ptsd from being back here.

the difference in ghilan’nain delivery when she demands the dagger from rook is… something. treviso is very, “give, it.” whilst minrathous feels like, “would you pwetty pwease give us the dagger we want.”

i wanna cry, i don’t wanna face lucanis. no my poor baby he’s mad at me!

well, viago’s always some form of mad with either rook. take it from olivia “don’t die or viago will kill me” de riva.

jacobus is a little shit, didn’t like him even when he liked olivia and i certainly don’t like him now.

it’s so funny to go from the short stacks that are harding, olivia and lucanis to the tall trio, that is taash, emmerich and ward.

i know i keep laughing about the height thing but it’s truly commendable how well veilguard implements it like no other game i’ve scene. it’s not back-to-back cuts of a character looking down at another and only having them in-frame, not to mention this includes the player-character and no just pre-scripted movements between npcs. also, height in general can say so much about communication, boundaries and tone. the pantry scene being an excellent example. whilst the scene is great with all the races, if you pick an elf vs. qunari it’s going to be tonally different in the dynamic. to paraphrase a tiktoker, “you’ll get a good scene, but you won’t get that booktok moment.”

i love hearing about the inquisition from harding.

the camera got all weird and i got a screen full of emmerich’s staff and full on shat myself. 😭

i kept calling rook, “tav” and now i keep calling v, “rook”. what the fuck is up with my wiring.

i think if i were to rank the individual arcs, it’d be: davrin, bellara // harding, emmerich and taash // lucanis and neve. lucanis and neve, outside of lucanis’ cut content don’t really grow. they don’t learn anything, to an extent neve learns that she can ask others for help and lucanis’ growth is fully based around spite and not really anything crow related, which feels like a collateral.

not to get too on the nose about it but lucanis can end up with an elven crow, which feels incredibly loaded. baring in mind, he was twenty-six during inquisition and very much alive during zevran’s time with the warden. he’s around thirteen at the start of origins. rook is somewhere between 20-35 and just based off crow canon, and how it’s likely elf!rook ended up with them (especially because none of the rook’s have an antivan accent and was canonically an orphan), it means caterina oversaw that.

i guess the trade-off for having less content is the fact that you get to have isabela, a legacy character as a direct contact in your faction.

changed my mind, ward is gonna romance neve and i’ve got a new elf!greywarden!rook that i’m running through and i’ll save one route for bellara, one route for davrin. wanted to go very pixie and whimsical on this, so whilst she’s got olivia’s facial structure, she’s a blonde, has the clearest skin known to man with pink eyes and has pearly white tattoos (why can’t white tattoos look that cool irl? the little bits of white in mine are so dull).

ha! davrin called solas “baldy”.

[wosobronze]

stoppp i didn’t even notice lucy’s voice in the background of that guy performing in ona’s london dump wtfff 😭 can hear it now tho omg it’s so clear it’s her lol

the amount of people saying they never noticed it is making me laugh😭 but yeah once you’ve heard it once you can’t unhear it lmao

[australianklaviergavin]

★ PINNED POST

Puff / Holmes / The Great Detective / whatever ★ They / them (or she/her, nbd really) ★ Proud owner of the most insane Klavier headcanon(s) ★ This is a sideblog! ★ Associated with my friend @/purpleleavesday ★ Tagging "#dgs2 spoilers" ★ Animal Attorney masterpost ★ Ask about joining my minor character server!

I'm very chatty, so assorted trivia is below the Read More, as to not turn my bio into an eyesore. Will be updated as relevant. Asks are always appreciated!

Total time spent in the Attorney Mines...

I say I've been enjoying these games since I was a kid, however it's a bit false to say I've been playing them that long. I've more been watching them be played, until now, as well as observing the lawyer yaoi on my dash. This series has been a massive part of my life for about as long as I can recall, I just... Didn't quite play them until recently. I'm new-ish but I feel like it's important to point out that I really have been here a while, in spirit.

Klavier headcanons..?

There's about two total, the one in my URL, and one I'm moreso sworn into secrecy over. The one in my URL is... It's very important to me. If you see Klavier on this blog, please read him in a goofy Australian accent. My brother does voice stuff, and when we were reading for Ace Attorney, he just turned Australian and I can't unhear it.

Sholmes kinning you..?

Yeah, so... He just like me. Same poses, same catchphrases, detective as a gender and not a profession, big yellow-ish coat. Most damningly, I do unfortunately represent myself through a funny little bunny, and have since I was a small child, and it's literally just the Sholmes bunny. I'm so serious and I could prove it. Most importantly, I've been doing all this for years. It's literally just how I act! And almost always have! What! I joke about kinning him (or, in this case, being kinned by him) but it's just in good fun.

You look familiar...

HI. YOU GOT ME. Yes, it's Puff, your silly rabbit and right hand arm man. Sorry to all my main blog oomfies to which I did NOT announce this to, but hi, enjoy your stay!

Dear fellow, what in the world is happening in your icon?

Gonna make this quick or I'm gonna start crying laughing again. I sometimes use 3D models as reference, and a friend was helping me clean / rig the Sholmes model rip I had and... When he sent me the file, he did something wrong by accident..? And Sholmes ended up looking SO joyous, but he strictly did NOT do that on purpose like I thought, so we both ended up crying real tears over it. Therefore, I'm using that as a base for my icon while I work on a better one.

Mutuals* can...

By mutuals, I mean followers, really, but feel free to ask for my main if you're unsure or otherwise reach out! I don't have a lot else going on (I started playing Ace Attorney because I'm too injured for my other hobbies so any distraction is very welcomed) and am willing to chat, as long as you don't mind the fact I'm maybe a little Insane :')

Tags to acquaint yourself with

I don't keep many, but my save tag is "#case notes", my catch-all art tag is "#the deduction of art", my tag for polls is "#I can’t make bricks without clay", my talking tag is "#a study in screaming", and my asks tag is "#consultations"! Will be updating this later as necessary

The banners...

First off! No interest in men. I like to make jokes, but they're just that! I've called Kazuma "dreamy" more times than I can recall, but legit I do not mean it outside an objective context. I don't mean to be needlessly hostile, but the second is to preemptively warn off weirdos! If you're going to be Nasty or Weird (especially about characters who are minors) then please see yourself out! If you're "proship" or whatever, I don't have much interest in welcoming you to my blog.

[tinyfishtits]

Was thinking about Baylock and why Micah named him that

The wiki says it’s a reference to Omen and the disciple of satan nanny Mrs. Baylock. And then there’s Micah’s horse being a subtle reference to the dark horse that spawn when you have low honor in RD1.

Like sure, okay yeah, he’s the villain I get it.

But my own geeky film headcannon is that Micah would have named him Baylock meaning the elvish word for friend 🤗 from lotr.

BUT THEN I was searching if Gandolf said Baylock or Bellock and discovered HE SAYS MELLON???

MELLON ? !

And now I can’t unhear it and it’s ruined everything and how did I mishear that one line for two decades of my fucking life I wish I never opened Google today

[nerissalmao]

Dolores’s Villain Song

Hey friends! So. I did a thing. A thing called I STAYED UP UNTIL FIVE AM AND RECALLED THOSE MEME POSTS BEING ALL LIKE “the kids are the villain in Encanto!” “The trees are the villain in Encanto!” “Encanto is the villain in Encanto!!” and it got me thinking. I then fell asleep and proceeded to have a dream in which Dolores was the villain of Encanto. Yeah yeah I know, MatPat did a theory that some people thought was bonkers ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶a̶c̶t̶u̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶m̶a̶d̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶o̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶s̶e̶n̶s̶e̶ so yeahhhh. I can’t just let this slide, so here! Have a bogus Encanto AU!

Basically, the movie, but throughout the film more focus is shown on Dolores’s expressions and stuff. She’s as she usually is, but seems more easily annoyed, and whenever Mariano is brought up she seems to literally despair, but it’s implied Abuela doesn’t want her to be loud and literally just wants her to be the listening ear (you can like see her glaring at Dolores after she spills at the family argument lmao) and then things go to crap. Isabela and Mirabel see Abuela coming near after “What Else Can I Do?” and they rush outside, trying to get away from her, and the family dramatically crowds around the two. Isabela is genuinely terrified of Abuela. Well, everyone goes outside but Dolores, whose gift in this AU is more than just hearing but has to do with absorbing sound waves as a hall..

TRANSCRIPT TIME BABY WHOOOOO! Mirabel’s yelling about how Isa doesn’t wanna marry Mariano and then and then—

~~~~

ABUELA, from outside: But look at Mariano! He’ll be just so perfect for you, Isabela! Perfection or no perfection isn’t he just wonderful?! He loves you, Isabela! Are you seriously going to leave the poor boy on his own?! [Dolores is inside, near the door as she’d tried to head out, but she hears Mariano’s name and flinches, backing away and giving a glimpse to the candle, which is still exceptionally bright from Isabela and Mirabel’s hug. She pulls her hair down from its bun and sneaks from the hall into Isabela’s room. She finds a purple flowery dress and slips behind a flowery changing screen and comes out, spinning, wearing the dress. It doesn’t fit her very well and she itches at it.]

DOLORES in a high voice, mimicking Isabela: Yes, Mariano, aren’t I just beautiful and perfect and graceful? I grow cacti, I grow flowers and.. well, just forget about Dolores. She wishes she were as perfect as me—

[Dolores trips over her feet as she tries to prance and falls face-first into some flowers.] DOLORES: Ugh, ¡¿por qué?!

[She stands and heads outside the hall, itching again at the flowers and grumbling under her breath.]

ISABELA, muffled: But Abuela—

ABUELA: Isabela, please..

[Dolores’s eyes widen, and she seems to crumple in on herself as their words become unintelligible. She rushes to her room and sits on her bed. She starts to cry. The camera moves up to a small photo of her; her room is full of instruments and part-soundproofed areas, but she obviously can’t unhear Abuela still so adamant Isabela should marry Mariano. The photo frame shows her as a young girl next to Abuela during her gift ceremony, but she looks worried as her hand presses to her ear. A flashback sequence starts, showing a younger Dolores at the dinner table. She reacts to a noise nobody else can hear and flinches.]

YOUNG DOLORES: Abuela, my ears hurt! I keep hearing so many things from around town and I can’t turn it off! Kids are yelling. It’s so loud!

ABUELA: Don’t worry, Dolores. It may be bad for now, but just think! Your gift will be helping our family.

[Flash back to the present. The muffled sounds of people talking grow louder and Dolores stuffs her hands to her ears, still crying. She mouths the words “shut up” over and over again, but no sound comes out. An instrumental plays— it’s a reprise of “What Else Can I Do?” but it’s sadder, yet somehow sinister. Dolores slowly stands and steps towards the picture, moving her hands to wipe her tears away.]

DOLORES, singing:

Never do the unexpected

Stand up straight, stick it through

Uphold the family that wants you to hear it all and never asked you..

What else do you want to do?

[Dolores walks outside her room and paces around the halls, her head downcast.]

Bury weakness that exposes

You can hear things as far as a mile

Doesn’t anyone think I don’t wanna hear

Everything going on while

I must support the family, act like I’m okay, listen while he says she’s perfect

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

I can hear, you’re hard on them all, but I feel like I can’t even speak

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

I’m not something who’s feelings you forget

What if I’m done with your games?

I’ll go my own way

[DOLORES walks out downstairs and sees the petals Isabela made all over the floor. She tosses them in the air and mimics her cousin again.]

A hurricane of jacarandas

Strangling figs

Hanging vines

Isa, I love you, but have you ever asked what I think?

It’s cold in your shadow

[She picks up a flower petal.]

When you neglect a flower, it will wilt away

Until all of its colors have drained away

If you know that, why don’t you know cousins are the same?

Don’t want to be your amiga if you don’t care

Oh, Bruno said he’d only love you!

[Dolores punches the petal and it breaks in her hand. She slams it down and rushes to Julieta’s kitchen, and starts to hack at the flowers on her dress with a cutting knife]

You are no prized, precious flower

Tried to hide my sorrow but it will erupt

Yeah, you’re a rose with thorns

That’s great, but I too can shine

I can shine!

[As she holds the high note on “shine”, she throws down the scissors and the camera quickly moves to Dolores’s door, which suddenly shifts, as the sound waves that are depicted going towards her move so that they’re coming from her, her hands turning outward as if she’s directly sending out the sound. Dolores doesn’t notice, and meanwhile slams her foot down. A sound wave seems to come from her, rattling the floor boards. Pan to outside, where the Madrigal family looks around.]

MIRABEL: What was that sound?

[The music pauses and Dolores looks down, a bit confused. She nervously plays with her hair, wondering if she really did that. She backs away and memories of Dolores’s past in the movie and in her childhood play over the screen briefly: a scene of her hearing other kids talk about her being weird as a child, her having to listen to Mariano say he wants five babies with Isabela, her hearing Bruno in the walls and refusing to tell anyone as his prediction for her echoes in her mind. She hears the family members outside discussing the sound and dashes to a previously-unseen sunroom in the Casa, slowly smiling. The music starts again, now actively sinister and no longer resembling the original song, more distorted now.]

DOLORES, singing again. her voice not quiet as it was before but much louder:

A quiet world, I can be secluded

I’ll be the one everyone has to listen to

(I’ve weaponized my curse)

My life is mine to do with as I choose

And I don’t have to hear all of you!

(Any of you-ooh-ooh)

[A sound wave comes directly from her, so loud it rattles the floor. Casita attempts to fix things and rattles back, the windows shaking as they put up the covers from the light so they won’t crack, casting Dolores in mostly darkness.]

What could they possibly expect was going to happen when they made me be quiet?

They never cared when things got too loud for me

I just wanted someone to turn it down

[A brief crescendo as the music changes.]

Turn it down..

[Another sound wave leaves her body, breaking the ground beneath her, and she rushes out and faces the candle head on.]

I have a mama who’s gift is a curse

I have a cousin who was lost without a gift

I have an Abuela who weaponizes us all

What could I do to fix this?

Oh, what could I do?

(What else can I do? What else can I do? What else, what else..)

[As the background words of her voice slowly get louder, the candle flickers.. as if in fear, and another sound wave comes out. Pan out to the Madrigal family. Mirabel covers her ears, Isabela rushes towards the door, and Luisa nervously mutters to herself. Pepa tries to use her mantra of “clear skies” to calm down.]

You’re weak and

You’re helpless

To stop me destroying you

(You aren’t even a miracle, all you do is ruin lives, my power was a curse all my life)

My power’s made anew

[As Isabela flings open the door, another sound wave comes out, so loud it practically makes the screen flicker breaking the fourth wall. As it goes out her dress flickers around her and changes to her colors— red, pale orange, and flickers with sparkling sound wave designs.]

What else can I do?!

[Isabela rushes over and the music slows down. The song ends just as the candle flickers and goes out, and the candle falls down. Abuela runs in and sees it, and Casita starts to crumble. Dolores laughs.]

~~~~

Do not ask what happens next. Figure it out for yourself because this was a midnight thing yk and a wacky dream. Do with this AU what you will and thanks for putting up with me (but seriously Abuela was toxic and I think it could have benefited the movie to show the very realistic resentment at least one of the kids would have for Abuela so fite me on this)