#and you can't see them here

[itisaterriblelove]

“HEY BABY, I’M IN THE PARKING LOT.” 

One of the very best things about being friends with someone for so long and so completely was that Elle didn’t even bother to ask any questions. We could operate on the same brain frequency sometimes. I knew that if I showed up to anyone else’s place at this time of night – well, okay, morning because it was fucking one am – there would at least be a couple of inquiries about my sanity or, in DK’s case, some grumbling about interrupting his cuddles with Jemma Moss. He could be such a selfish asshole sometimes, I swear. And stingy with his cuddles, too.

But because Elle loved me and was literally the best person in the universe, I only had to wait eight minutes before she came out of her dorm building carrying her purse and a blanket because the air had started to catch a chill. Her eyes were still wide, a shimmering green, so I knew that I hadn’t woken her up.

She yawned when she pulled my truck door open and hopped in, but her smile was soft and warm when she looked over at me and kissed me on the cheek. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

I shrugged a shoulder instead of answering aloud and cast a wry grin in her direction. She was well versed in my spontaneous bouts of insomnia so I knew that I didn’t really have to explain it to her. On nights like these I always showed up to her place and we picked a random direction to drive in until I found a spot that felt like a good place to stop. She was usually the navigator, I was the driver, and we just kind of let fate do whatever it wanted with us. 

“I’m controlling the playlist,” she announced and pulled up my phone to start rifling through her options. “And whenever you want to tell me what’s wrong, I’m all ears.” She didn’t bother to give me a chance to object to her decision to dj, so I already knew that it wasn’t a fight that I was going to win tonight.

It was fine. We both knew that I didn’t really mind.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I countered while she poked around on my phone. There was nothing on there that she couldn’t see and, anyway, her biometrics were hooked to all of my things. Because Elle was the person who was responsible for wiping my searches clean if I died unexpectedly or fell into a coma or some shit. So the government wouldn’t think I was on some serial killer schtick if shit went down… I was just curious, damn!

“My brain just won’t stop,” I made a turning motion with my hand and she nodded in understanding. “Why were you still up?” 

“Sketching out a design for a new dress,” she beamed at me and my heart turned over. I fucking loved the way her designs gave her so much joy. “I just finished up when you called, so perfect timing. Ohhh!” She squirmed, excited all over again, and pressed onto the screen with her finger. “Secret music!”

I chuckled because I recognized the playlist immediately after hearing her words, as my own guitar sounds came streaming through the truck speakers. “These are not secret, baby. Just unfinished.”

“Yes, but you’ve never played them for me,” she cut an accusing look at me from the corner of her eyes and I didn’t bother to dispute it. Okay, so, we didn’t have any secrets. That was true. But fuck. I hadn’t ever played her this particular set of songs probably for a reason. And not one I wanted to delve into, so I just didn’t bother to respond.

Elle got quiet as she listened and I concentrated my attention to the road ahead of me instead of categorizing her reactions to the sporadic hints of lyrics and ever-switching melodies playing through the speakers.

She was a quick study, so by the time the playlist repeated Elle was humming along. “These are good, Gav!” She smacked my leg lightly in what I knew was admonishment for keeping them from her. “I didn’t know you were writing your own stuff. Why doesn’t the band play any of these?!” 

I hummed, but I could feel the rush of heat sliding down from my cheeks to my neck. “Eh… Cressida’s pretty particular about the mood of our songs. These don’t really fit.” They weren’t love songs, exactly, but they weren’t… not… Cressida and Aidan had some kind of ban on love songs.

Besides I didn’t want to fucking share them.

The songs weren’t about being in love. They weren’t. But they were whatever the fucking platonic adjacent of that was – the way that I felt about my friends. The ones that I knew I would keep forever. So, yeah. They were kind of personal and the irony of Elle softly humming along was not lost on me.

“Your singing’s not so bad. We could go on the road together,” she teased, bumping her shoulder into mine, and I grinned back at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something similar or that I had agreed to it, either.

“I thought that was already the plan.”

“Unless you dump me for DK. He gets kinda pouty every time I say we’re going to have our own two-man band one day.”

“Yeah, yeah. That fucker doesn’t know how to share,” I scowled playfully out the windshield, seeing a nice little turn ahead that looked like exactly the kind of place that I wanted to stop.

“Only him?” Elle teased, aghast. “I’m pretty sure he’s in good company with you on that front, mister.” 

I made an affronted sound as I found my spot and pulled over. “The fuck, Elle? I resemble that remark.” 

She giggled as she swung her door open, following my lead. “You really, really do.” She hopped down and clapped her hands. “Okay! Now for something lighter!” And she switched the music to a really pop-y boy band that I absolutely fucking refused to admit I knew the name of and started belting out the lyrics with her arms thrown wide.

I turned the music up a bit and followed her out, glancing up at the sky with a long sigh. It was a beautiful night out and there probably weren’t too many of them left. I knew once the cold really seeped in it wouldn’t let up again for months and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

But tonight the air was decent and the stars were bright, and I was in the company of my absolute favorite girl in the fucking world.

“Sing with me, Gavin!” Elle crowed, taking my hand, and so I danced with her and joined my voice with hers as we used the truck’s headlights for illumination under the stars.

And this was why we took these drives on my sleepless nights. I knew that when I got home my head wouldn’t be unsettled anymore. Instead I would just feel like everything was exactly as it should be, even though I also knew there would be a niggling part of me wishing things could stay exactly like this forever. Just never fucking change.

It was a fool’s hope, for sure, but I could afford to hold onto it for just a little longer yet.

[ichiro-artosaki]

this is the type of romance novel shadowheart would read in her spare time (and the type of daydreams she'd have of lae'zel asldkf!!)

a;lsdkfj and the sketch/lines as a lil bonus

[layzeal]

ok I'm curious so put in the tags what country you are from and whether or not you own/use a rice cooker

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Look what we've become.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[tiresomespaceplant]

thinks about martin blackwood for the 1892938th time

[collophora]

Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness

(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)

[buttdumplin]

going to look at houses with one of the boys because yall need a bigger one with more rooms now that ale and rudy have officially joined the polycule and the agent is really working the kids angle for "you and your... husband?" and ofc it's johnny who goes with you and he's feeding into it by only referring to them as "the boys" that by the time you've settled on a house and you get the agent to do one last viewing so they can all come see, her head fucking explodes first when she sees "the boys" and again after they all take their turns giving you and johnny your initial smooches, and the smile on johnny's face tells you this couldn't have played out as perfectly even in his dreams

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[shotmrmiller]

ps!ghost is very interested, to put it mildly. can't seem to stop re-watching your debut video that was released a week ago. it's always the same premise. black leather couch casting. nice little bird in a modest dress or shirt and jeans who gets undressed because the "director" has to take in measurements and the like, only to end up getting railed from the back with their pretty face pressed into the cushion.

it's a thing male viewers like. they love to watch a professional break in the new girl. he, though, not so much. he doesn't go for the new girls. doesn't like to be the one to test the limit like others do. (big cock anal on their debut? ghost finds it a bit much.) he hears one tiny gasped ouch and he's not finishing the shoot.

no, what gets him going is the enjoyment one can get during sex. it's why he ended up in this business in the first place. he likes sex. a lot.

likes to have men, women, young and old alike writhing beneath him gasping his (stage) name due to the pleasure and not because a script said to. and the benefits of working in the porn industry means that he gets paid doing what he likes, and can stay safe while doing so.

this is where you come in. the only reason he'd sat down to watch your video at all is because you'd been given a contract by the same company he is under. he's bound to come across you at a later date, might as well learn what he'll be eventually working with.

and he's hooked. whatever initial nervousness you might've had at the very beginning (because this is your very first professional shoot, of course) bleeds from your shoulders once price, the lucky bloke, gets his hands on you. you're a bloody natural.

and you enjoy it. there's no faking the way your nails bite into price's scalp when he licks at your pussy through your thin knickers. you gently wrap your hand around his fingers that's rolling your hardened nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze. he's doing it too rough. you buck your hips into his face, riding it even though you're the one on your back.

ps!ghost has to swallow the mouthful of saliva when he notices strings of creamy white sticking to price's body hair, a frothy ring around the root. the best part of all of this, is that you're giving as good as you take. you're no passive participant. you could, under price's big bulk, just get folded in half and do nothing other than feel the sweet burn of his cock stretch you, turn you inside out.

but you don't. you know exactly what you like and how you like it. you look for your orgasm, make sure it happens under your manicured fingers or price's thick ones. you don't let him be too rough on you nor too gentle.

simon loves it. you're new to this. you could've just accepted what he gave you without so much as a peep of complaint and gone home to soak in an epsom salt bath. but you didn't. you didn't let him pinch your sensitive clit, didn't let him mindlessly claim a fistful of hair.

but you did open your pretty mouth so he could spit in it (fucking lovely, it was) and let him keep your soft hips in the air as john's pace turned frantic and the best of all (in his very biased opinion) you crossed your ankles around his waist to keep him there as he fucked you full of his come.

(had simon been there, he would've begged for a taste if he had to.)

he feels a bit desperate, after. can't get you out of his head. the thought of your slick pussy hot around his cock is what gets him to finish at times. the other times, it's your video. he swears he's found his equal (sorry, soap) one that'll forget that he's supposed to be putting on a show for the viewers.

sorry price, he's about to unfuck him out of your pussy until all it'll ever remember is simon.

(what he doesn't understand is that he's about to forget more than the viewers. why is price watching yall again? it's almost intimate the way you let him fuck you on a creaky mattress. he's drunk on the smell of you, your hair, your cunt. lost all thought when his fat cock slid with relative ease into your wet heat and all he'd done was let you make yourself come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you'd pleased. you'd latched onto his neck, maybe out of habit or whatever, it doesn't matter. he'll be telling the makeup artists to leave the bites you left. he earned every single one. and where he usually pulls out because it's easier to clean up for everyone? you'll not be wasting a single drop. it appears he has a lot bit of a breeding kink.)

[greencarnation]

eleven is fascinating to me because he came right off the back of tens horrible traumatic breakdown after he lost everything and he immediately tried to establish himself as the opposite of that. he is funny and goofy and almost childlike, and he bulldozes on in his adventures with amy like nothing happened at all. but then something happens and his masks slips and it's like oh! the core of this man is still anger. he is so so angry all of the time and this façade is the only thing stopping him from being consumed by it. he isn't over any of it and he hasn't moved on. he is wearing a fez and laughing but under that all that exists is age old anger and grief and it is going to consume him

[star--nymph]

Vivienne's fear being 'becoming irrelevant' isn't something that's linked explicitly to her pride, no matter what Solas says about her (and the irony of Mr.Pride himself saying that should not be lost on you), it reveals what and who Vivienne truly is.

She's a survivalist.

Because we don't spend as much time in the Free Marches or Orlesian circles, we don't get to experience what being a mage is in these cultures. In Ferelden and Kirkwall, a mage is a lesser being without freedom no matter what they do--but in the Free Marches and Orlais specifically, mages are commodities that are given freedom so long as they play an entertaining enough role. They can explore the world if they have a noble patron, if they catch the right person's eye. They are, in a way, two sides of the same coin--refusing mages agency and forcing them to relay on higher powers. Vivienne lucked out, as sad as it is, when Bastion fell in love with her; she found someone who was contrarian enough to recognize her as a full person and also someone with power that could help her rise through the ranks. This is not to say that Vivienne on her own wasn't an exceedingly talented and intelligent individual--by nineteen she was already the youngest full fledged mage in Circle history and she was skilled enough to make herself an enchanter. But, I can not emphasize this enough, none of that matters if she didn't also play the Game and impress enough people.

Vivienne could have been the most brilliant mage in the history of Thedas and it means nothing if she was overlooked by nobility.

So when Bastion made her his mistress, she gained not just a lover but also a means to an end. Now she can use her magic to protect herself. Now she can roam where she wants and not be question for it because she's Madame Vivienne. Now, she can walk into the Orlasian court and belong there.

And what happens? Celene notices her and makes her the Court Enchanter, a position that has always been the equivalent of a jester. Vivienne took that title, ignored that it was essentially a glorified insult to who she is, and made it a position of power. She made the Court Enchanter into an advisor, a political rank. She had done the impossible and made mages an actual political entity in the Orlasian Court, something that wasn't seen outside of Tervinter (not counting what players can do under very specific conditions if they made mages in DAO and DA2).

All that, however, only continues as long as the court recognizes her as something worth their attention. Vivienne needs to maintain her act as Madame De Fer, The Lady of Iron, the Court Enchanter, The Jewel of the High Court, because the second she just becomes Vivienne, it's over for her. The assassins coming raining in, her name gets devoured by rumors and gossip, and she'll be found dead at bottom of the stair case with a dagger in her back if she's lucky.

So of course when the Circles fall apart during the Rebellion, she clings to that Loyalist Mages to maintain that structure--of course she moves her pieces to the Inquisition, knowing that if the Circle DOES fall, she at least as another place for herself and mages latch onto--of course when she hears that Celene replaced her with a new Court Enchanter that appeared out of no where, she grows to resent Morrigan.

Like, Morrigan literally pops up out of thin air, makes herself invaluable to Celene, and then plants herself in the place Vivienne had to claw her way up to and create so she could survive. Would you not be resentful when your life's work is usurped by some random witch of the wilds because she happened to charm the Empress? Everything Vivienne strived for all whisked away because the court find a gem who glimmers ever so slightly more than Vivienne.

So yes, Vivienne fears becoming irrelevant because the world has made it so that irrelevance for an Orlesian mage means death.

[bread-wizards]

I actually think Dorian and Orym should fight more.

Remember when their slowly building tension over and entire episode (full of passive aggressive remarks and blame throwing) led to threats? And how after, Orym thanked Dorian for handing over the crown sadly because he knew Dorian would be mad at him? And Dorian couldn't even look at him because he was legitimately hurt, thinking Orym was disappointed in him for doing what he thought was right? That was peak.

The fact they went from that to their current closeness and trust is the best part of their entire dynamic. Their relationship was hard fought and still will be. They will fight for it because they respect and care for one another deeply, and their disagreements don't change that, only improve it.

[vigilskept]

i know it would've been difficult for them to tackle, but it absolutely kills me thinking about the missed opportunities of getting into religious angle of everything that's going on in veilguard.

because it's insane, right? that there are gods in this game. and the game will tell you over and over that they aren't gods, that they're Just Mages, but that's actually not precisely true. they're something very different from what a tevinter magister is, at least, and not only on a power-scale.

powerful spirits are gods in this setting. that was the religion ascribed to by most of humanity, before andraste. the avvar and chasind still ascribe to that belief.

a lot has been said already about how the game fails to engage with belief for dalish characters, and i agree. i think the game also really fails its andrastian characters here though because this is actually huge.

it's not just whether the golden/black city is/was the seat of the maker. it's the very meaning of what god is that's at stake here.

the maker has abandoned humanity. only through the pleas of his prophet andraste is he willing to consider the idea of offering a second chance to his creation. he will not respond to your prayers, and he will not give you answers. his will is inscrutable, to be interpreted only through the words of his prophet which have been changed over the centuries.

and if you are a mage, you are taught that this maker has cursed you. your very being is a curse.

and then you meet elgar'nan. and then you meet ghilan'nain.

they are not your maker. not really. not even if you're an elf.

but these gods are knowable. they will speak to you, personally. they may even do so with kindness. they will tell you what you could do to please them, and even offer you something in return.

and what they ask is terrible. maybe even unfathomable. but in a world where exalted marches have been called in the name of the maker and entire circles annulled, isn't that enough to give you a little pause?

[chimchiri]

For the requests: maybe Dash and Spitfire are doing some bonding gaming with Scoots? I'm sure they enjoy some console gaming, but maybe they could be convinced to do some board games as well?

I had to color this in because I loved this idea too much. Scootaloo gets some help from Spitfire and learns an important lesson about strategy and playing the long game.

Poor Rainbow gets demolished.

[mechieonu]

i know that disney is too big to boycott effectively but that shouldn't translate to "and so we should keep buying their products like normal" but rather "at the very least we should try"

[fictionadventurer]

Maybe the problem with Christian fiction is that it's non-denominational. People are just "Christian", with no effort put into showing what practicing that religion looks like for them specifically. No indication that there are other Christians who could have different beliefs. No wrestling with differing ideas and the struggle of how one should live out their Christian faith. And that makes it unrealistic and unrelatable.