#trying to be professional and gracious

[orcinus-veterinarius]

I'm going to start going through the asks that accumulated during my break soon. In accordance with my new guidelines, I'm not going to answer questions that ask specifically about the health of animals at individual facilities. Thank you for your understanding!!!

[ohnoitsthebat]

Typed up my resignation letter last night and printed off two copies. I don't plan to turn it in today unless I have a really bad day, but carrying it around with me makes me feel weirdly empowered. Like I finally have control.

Let's see how today goes.

[kianamaiart]

can i ask what the process was like for hiring voice actors for your project was like? i have my own animated project i'm working on and that seems like a big, scary step as an indie creator

I'm lucky in that a lot of the VAs I cast are friends/mutuals of mine so I just DMd them and asked for their rates/if they'd be open to working on my pilot. When I posted the character bios initially, Shara commented on DeVoid saying "I wanna voice the baddie" and I said "bet". For everyone else, I'd just send them the character bios and script to read over to make sure they were down. I was even luckier that a lot of them were just down to help me out despite me trying to pay them (i made sure to at the very least offer my services as an artist if they ever needed prints for cons in the future)

More under the cut

Of the 7 VAs, I didn't know 2 of them personally and was planning on cold emailing their agent (they both have the same one) to ask if they'd be available for something like this. I was definitely nervous and was drafting up emails for such a long time wondering how to pitch the project and make it seem appealing without tooting my own horn too much.

During this time, I'd DMd Marieve, who's my friend and coworker on Big City Greens (voice of Tilly and our voice director), and asked if she'd be open to giving me voice directing tips since I'd be working with professional VAs on my own. She was gracious enough to just work alongside me on the project which was SO helpful, I owe her my life. I mentioned to her that I was still casting and was gonna email Atlas Talent to see if I could book the two other actors. What I didn't realize is that Marieve was also with Atlas and had the same agent and is also friends with said agent. She connected us and they got back to me right away!

That was my in, and from here on is what the booking process is actually like. This is what I feel like will be the most useful to you!

I told them who I was looking to book and they asked if they could get more info on the project. I sent them all my pitch materials so they knew this was a legitimate thing that was happening. I'd had pretty much the whole board and all the scripts done at this time. I feel like having actual, tangible work to show will really help your chances. The talent will know what they're getting into and if they're open to doing the project. Oh and also, if you have some VAs cast and are going to cast more, mentioning who you have already can also give you leverage and make you seem more legitimate. Ooh and also also, I let them know I was massively open to improv which I feel a lot of actors enjoy. A big selling point for this project.

They passed this along to the actors and I also made sure to tell them my budget. I was told by another VA friend that VO rates usually range from $200-300 an hour (you can shoot lower for indie projects). I told them I could do $200/hr but since they're pretty high profile, I was willing to negotiate.

The agent got back to me saying that the actors really liked the script and were willing to do it for free/at a discounted rate which meant the absolute world to me. Both of them are sweethearts and I also owe them my life. From there we scheduled zoom sessions and also studio times (we recorded one of them in person which was so sick). I'd say zoom's the way to go so you don't have to pay to rent a studio out and most VAs, due to the pandemic, have at home setups. There was a lot of scheduling back and forth involved with the agents and the studio but it all worked out and boom! Had em recorded in the next couple weeks.

I will say, it's ALWAYS worth asking and reaching for the stars. VAs are artists too and generally like being on fun, creatively fulfilling projects. You never know who'd be willing to be on your project if you never ask~

[pomefioredove]

Hello!!! Can I request for a one-shot of Vil x RSA reader, where Neige is very close to the reader and Vil is jealous, So try to make Reader spend more time with him than with Neige and show them that he is better than him?

-🐭

AWAHHH I LOVE THIS ONE

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in the way

type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, unless they were like a yuu that went to RSA, it could happen, not proofread

The only thing more poisonous than jealousy is Vil Schoenheit himself.

Long after the winner of the VDC had been voted, announced, and publicized, Neige Leblanche's face put on every screen and newspaper, there was you.

Vil knew he was poisoned by hatred.

Though he had a right to be; his confidant, his, perhaps only friend, had betrayed him for the person who made him despise himself like nothing else. The person he could never be, no matter how hard he tried.

An eye for an eye.

He had, painfully so, relied on Epel Felmier to sneak into RSA. Vil couldn't trust Rook for such a thing, and Epel certainly had the face for it.

He brought back... well, you.

Neige's best friend since his first day at Royal Sword Academy.

People called you shy, Epel said. You didn't appear on Neige's Magicam, or come with him to movie premiers, your very name utterly untraceable, for that very reason.

Vil had barely withheld a sigh. Of course. He was going to have to charm a shy, dainty, naive, kindhearted little prick.

Typical. As if Neige wasn't bad enough.

But Vil had his mind made, and he was going to be gracious about it, thank you very much.

And so, you "stumbled" across each other at a shop in the town between your two schools. He batted his eyelashes, complimented that hideous RSA uniform, and got your number.

Neige says such nice things about you! That's what you said.

He almost gagged.

But texts became phone calls, which became video calls, which became gifts exchanged between schools, which became little get-togethers on Sage's Island.

Which became... this.

You. Your surprising wit, your refreshing honesty, your sharp tongue. Your time spent together was not only tolerable, but enjoyable, even.

And then Vil realized something quite horrible.

He had a crush. On you. On the friend of his worst enemy.

Now, wooing you to bother Neige was one thing. That was a matter of professional pettiness. But actually stealing you away from him, out of something like true love?

No, too personal. He wouldn't.

And then, one mild night, on a walk, you admit that you enjoy your time with Vil more than with Neige.

And suddenly, everything is different.

Vil begins pursuing you properly, but not subtly. He has flower arrangements fit for a queen sent to your dorm. He remembers every little detail. He lets you vent, whine, truly bitch because he knows that Neige wouldn't. He gets closer.

The worst of it is when you're all together. Poor, sweet you, without a care in the world, walking between Vil and his least favorite person.

Even Neige seems a little uncomfortable. It's delicious.

At first, Vil makes a show of holding your hand, opening doors for you, complimenting your outfit and your eyes and the silly things you say, but it soon becomes less of a petty performance and more of a natural instinct, an urge to be close.

Neige begins to blur into the background.

Heavily, but painlessly, Vil realizes something else.

He doesn't care about Neige Leblanche anymore. What he's feeling is no longer a poisonous jealousy, seeping into his chest and making him bitter.

It's desire. For you.

Neige only happens to be in the way.

[northopalshore]

Derivative astrology

Your spouse's reputation

For this method, we'll be looking at the 4th house of your natal chart, the 4th house ruler & planets in the 4th house to determine your future spouse's (public) reputation and quite possibly what they are known for. Although not a direct link, it can also give you hints about their possible career too. Does not translate to their actual Midheaven sign or placement, it's their energy.

Signs & degrees

Do not repost on other sites! Especially on TikTok man, I see you ʕ⁠´⁠ಠ⁠ᴥ⁠ಠ`⁠ʔ ฅ 🔊 🍽️ Northopalshores' Masterlist| union persona chart| paid readings

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ Common additional asks

In °0 👉🏻check for Aquarius

In retrograde 👉🏻 calmer or opposite version of non retrograde

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Aries (°1,°13,°25)

Your partner is known as quite the flirt. Not to say they are a Casanova, but something about them just oozes raw sexuality, confident and some how childish fun or innocence. They can be coy and act like they got their shit together (high nose and everything) but they're not trying to sell anyone that image permanently. They are known for their enthusiasm and energy often giving 100% of themselves into something even if it may appear measley to others. They are also protective and may get rather hot headed (have a brat streak) to them. They are a hard worker and people appreciate their strength and resilience.

🍡Possible careers: dancer, self employed, any job that requires movement or physical attraction/contact/agility & hard work or labour.

Taurus (°2,°14,°26)

Your partner is known for being a levelheaded individual with a friendly yet professional temperament. They have a warm and strong presence that eases the mind of everyone that they meet. They are always seen as presentable and expensive. People know them for their good taste and easygoing yet still strong and enduring personality. They have the ability to ease one's doubt with just their presence alone. They are seen as gracious and we'll mannered too, many will find your spouse relatable.

🍡Possible careers: Anything that has to do with children, beauty, fashion, partnerships, business person

Gemini (°3,°15,°27) | Mercury in or conjunct the 4th House

Your future spouse is know to be quite the comedian. They are someone people find incredibly entertaining and always the interesting character. It may be hard for people to peel their eyes or attention away from your spouse as they are naturally humours. They are known to be someone with a quick mind, and a knack for talking. Like, reaally talking. People could praise them for having a good voice or something about their voice just feels so good to hear or is prominent in some way. They could be the person with the funny accent, expressive speech pattern, good voice or chronic overthinker/oversharer. Witty, smart and also tend to critique themselves a lot. Either way, their voice & thoughts plays an important role in their reputation.

🍡Possible careers: Singers, musicians, teachers, writers, comedians, actors, whatever that requires talking, expressiveness, creativity and entertainment

Cancer (°4,°16,°28) | Moon in the or conjunct the 4th house

Your partner as a kind, reassuring presence. People often come to them for support or see them as an emotionally supportive and nurturing individual. They may feel like a mother in a way, even if they are a man. They are known for their empathy and compassion as well as their emotional intelligence. Your spouse gives off the energy of a caretaker and someone who is careful & considerate. Some may come off like a mom or a grandmother to others lol.

Ex: Barack Obama has natal IC in Taurus °28 Cancer. Michelle is known for her calm demeanor, and her authentic personality. She's disciplined, caring and emotionally intelligent. I should also mention he has Moon in the 4th house. She was well respected and loved as during the time she was first lady.

🍡Possible careers: Retail, home realtors, doctors, advisor, nurse, doctor, anything that requires authenticity and "soul"

Leo (°5,°17,°29) | Sun in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner has a reputation of being loud & proud (and for some, abrasive). They are a strong character on their own and do not let anything change their way or perspective about anything. They are known to have a strong mentality, they are also known as a passionate fighter. Something about their looks is always talked about or noticed as well. They could be known to look a certain way.

🍡Possible careers: entertainer, actor, model, teacher, anything that requires them to be bold and bring attention to themselves

Virgo (°6,°18)

Your future partner is known to be quite the critique in both the good way & bad. They're known to be quite and have a lot on their mind. This usually is most evident when they start getting into "the zone" and people will know not to obstruct them during that time. You partner is know to be a generally good natured individual who may come off as rather dry at times even if they are a naturally friendly person. They are know to be smart (which means more towards intuition or introspection). Your partner has quite the reliable reputation being everyone's go-to person.

🍡Possible careers: doctor, teacher, nurse, secretary, someone that works at a church or any job that requires them to help others or methodical work

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Libra (°7,°19) | Venus in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be an easygoing, likeable person with a strong sense of justice and morality. They're likely known as someone smart and persuasive too. Their looks, business, connections or relationships with other people tend to be the highlight of their reputation.

🍡Possible careers: Model, any job that requires them to deal with other people, socializing, interacting, debating or planning, group work, secretary etc

Scorpio (°8,°20) | Pluto conjunct or in the 4th House

Your partner is known as a shy, or rather repressive. They are known to be rather messy & reclusive as well. They are known to be strong and passionate and is able to endure a lot of things that come their way. They could seem rather emotionally driven, raw and powerful but they may or may not know how to control that energy. Some may be been as rather violent or have self destructive tendencies. In some cases, they may be described as "to exploit or be exploited". They could be known as scary too lol.

🍡Possible careers: anything that requires hard work, may have dangerous or controversial careers, something that requires a lot of strength or resilience from them, anything that requires them to oppose something

Sagittarius (°9,°21) | Jupiter in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse has a big personality, and someone that everyone tends to like due to how enthusiastic and friendly they are. They tend to have a comedic reputation, being someone chill yet still sharp and knowledgeable. They have the "funny man/woman" reputation. They are known to have a big or exotic, exaggerated energy about them.

Ex: Ryan Reynolds has his natal IC in Sagittarius °22 Capricorn. Blake is known to be a fun and humourous person (sort of embodying a similar energy as him in a way) though people tend to have mixed feelings about her due to her abrasive (exaggerated) nature. I don't think she was acting when she was in Gossip Girl lmao.

🍡Possible careers: anything that requires them to be the center of attention, something that requires them to think or give their opinion about often, could be a desirable job, anything related to storytelling as well like writers, actors or a lyricist

Capricorn (°10,°22) or Saturn in & conjunct IC

Your partner is known to be someone with a good head on their shoulder. Someone with a clear purpose or desire in life. People find them respectful and hardworking. They take on most of their duties seriously and may be hard on themselves as well. It's their hardwork and professionalism that people usually notice most (what they're known for).

In the °22nd degree specifically, people have very.. varied opinions of your spouse. On one hand people may really like them and find them powerful and influential yet on the other hand people can also find them to be self centered or obnoxious.

🍡Possible careers: anything surrounding business, anything that requires them to be a certain way or at more in control of themselves, a job that may be criticized or requires them to be responsible (I know it's vague asf but that's usually the case). Could also work for themselves.

Aquarius (°11,°23) or Uranus in & conjunct the IC

Your spouse is known as someone who is innovative and resourceful. They have a quick way about them, and usually they are known to think outside of the box. They may be known to be quite rebellious and brazen. May be known as quite the smarty pants too. Someone who does things their way. Their methods may be questionable, but they seem to be quite certain of it. Some with these placements may have a partner with a "trainwreck" reputation.

🍡Possible careers: the dreaded freelancer (lmao), anything in relation to the internet or technology, doing what they want, a career that requires them to express themselves as they want or are

Pisces (°12,°24)

Your spouse is known for being a kind, funny person with a mellow personality. They are also known for being a "bubbly" mutable person, that does not judge or ground themselves to a certain way or energy, they tend to have a youthful personality regardless of their age. They are emotional and sensitive but may appear rather irrational at times. They are known to be quite the sociable person as well even with strangers. Also, they have a bit of a "clumsy" reputation. Their creativity and sensitivity is what they're most known for.

🍡Possible careers: teachers, caretakers, actors, whatever that requires them to adapt themselves accordingly, dealing with children or music and creativity

Asteroids

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Mars in or conjunct the 4th house

( not an asteroid but I wanted to separate mars from the others)

Your partner may have a "hustler" grindset (mindset). They are likely known as a pathfinder too (doing things that others may not, taking more risks, doing things first). They are known to be a vitalizing presence that may act before thinking or strike when the iron is hot! They are an opportunistic person, and are seen as very passionate about whatever it is that they do (albeit annoying at times or one track minded).

Ex: Beyoncé has Cancer IC °18 Virgo with North Node & Mars in the 4th house. Jay-Z is a business man through and through. He is a way paver, and has his money on his mind.

Neptune in or conjunct the 4th House

(Again, not an asteroid but I wanted to separate it)

Your partner is known as someone very charming yet misleading. They are known to be a people person, or someone that everyone can get along with. People may idealise your partner as well for their talents, looks or personality.

Chiron in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be a self sacrificing person. They may give more to others than themselves. They have a very healing presence and are known to be rather humble. Though for some it means that they are seen as someone incompetent or easy to brush off or disrespected.

🍡Possible careers: healers, doctors, advisors anything requiring patience, support and understanding

Groom (5129) or Briede (19029) in or conjunct the 4th house

Your future spouse may be known for being your partner, people usually link their reputation to you in some way. Could also be seen as someone dedicated. If you are masculine and are attracted to the feminine, then having Briede in the 4th can result in them being more prominently noticed in as a partner or in their career life compared to you & vice versa for Groom.

Ex: Michael Jackson has Groom in Cancer °0 in the 4th house. Both Lisa and Debbie were noted as his spouse and are still known for being so married to him. He is more the center of attention in the public eye when they are together is what I mean.

Ex ii: Ariana Grande has Briede in her 4th house. Even when she's with any of her parents, she is more popular or seen as the center of attention more than her partners.

Juno in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be a very professional, yet zealous and vibrant. People find them to be very attractive (personality wise) as they look and act confident & desirable!

Starr (4150) in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse is known to be someone that people tend to idealise or admire. They are the "it" person, or someone that may seem like they have the upper hand in life & especially in their career or with their public life. They are just perceived as someone very charming & lucky.

Fama (408) in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse or partner can be quite popular, they tend to be the talk of the town or wherever that they go (for whatever reason). People could notice your partner most when you are together or they may boost your image in a way. It's not necessarily tied to traditional fame.

North Node in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be quite the workaholic. They are someone with a clear purpose in mind, and are very focused on themselves & that aforementioned sense of purpose. They tend to be people who are respected for whatever they do as well.

Lilith in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse is known to be the unconventional type. They tend to stand out the most wherever they go or wherever they work due to their distinctive energy and personality, this can make them sort of a "star player", but at the same time can mean they attract a lot of competition or jealousy as well. People tend to look or stare at them a lot. Still, I think this placement can go both ways; either they are seen as an asshole or people are assholes to them (they make others insecure).

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Hope this helps ♡

@northopalshore

[streamsofmoon]

okay i’m imagining famous!vi x randomgirl!reader !! childhood friends who grew up in the suburbs and vi got famous for her music- now she’s one of the biggest pop stars in the world

reader is SOOO unused to the public attention. she’s always staying out of the public eye, private social media accounts, covers her face in paparazzi photos, etc etc.

giggling and kicking my feet just imagining them hard launching at like the grammys or something!!!!!

NEED a famous!vi x unrenowned!reader!!

vi x f!reader | modern day, famous!vi

synopsis: an editorial about vi hard launching at the grammys.

a/n: i wanted to try another perspective angle. it was a lot of fun! thank you, nonny, for the idea! <3

vi's hard launch at the grammys! (no one saw it coming)

by stephanie williams

last night, i had the gracious honour of being an interviewer on the red carpet. it had always been a dream of mine; to see the celebrities whose songs dominate the charts, be able to actually approach them and ask questions.

it was a whirlwind experience from start to finish. every little thing left me speechless, from the musicians' arrivals to the elegance of the venue. talking had nearly escaped and i almost forgot my own name!

everything was wonderful and perfect—but the evening did have a highlight.

i got to witness something very spectacular.

anyone who doesn't live under a rock knows who vi is. anyone who's anyone knows her music and is aware of its influence. you can't hear a vi song and not want to dance to it. her tunes are electrifying. they, quite frankly, make you want to shake your butt.

i've been a fan ever since she appeared on the scene, and this was before she made her big break. i'm talking about when she was on soundcloud, dropping teasers and singles for a few hundred people. her beginnings were humble, and so was she. she still is, to this very day, and to see her skyrocket after years in the dark was so gratifying to see.

so when i saw her strolling down the red carpet, i freaked a little (a lot).

i was aware that i'd meet her, but the awareness was no match for my nerves. meeting someone you've admired for years was and will never be a simple thing to experience.

plus, it didn't help that vi looked even more beautiful in person. all dressed in a designer black suit with no shirt beneath her two button blazer. her silvery jewelry, a brilliant match against her tanned skin and pink hair flawlessly slicked back. she was absolutely stunning.

but what specifically caught my eye was the person by her side. also immaculately gorgeous in a beautiful silk evening grown that flowed to the floor. her hair all done up and pristine; everything about her was just enchanting.

she was devastingly beautiful.

something in me immediately knew who she was. not personally, but as in who she was to vi. because of the way vi walked with her with an arm wrapped around her waist. how she'd look at her often, the softest smile gracing her lips with her eyes shimmering like stars.

i didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was pretty obvious to me as well as everyone.

vi walked down the red carpet with her guest in tow. she stopped for one or two small interviews before making her way towards me. during that time, her guest was escorted into the venue by vi's manager, leaving vi to handle what she needed to.

with, admittedly, shaking hands, i politely introduced myself to vi. she was charming, friendly, and hilarious. she made me snort-laugh too many times to count. but as the interview drew to a close, i found myself shooting my shot.

"so," i said slowly, testing the waters. "if you don't mind me asking—?"

vi grinned, like she knew where i was going. she didn't stop me, allowing me to ask my question.

"how long?" was all i said, and vi instantly knew. it was definitely not the most professional question i had asked, but vi didn't seem to mind.

"i've loved her since we were kids," vi confessed fondly, hands stuffed in her pockets. "and she isn't used to this world, so we decided to keep it quiet. anything to protect and maintain her peace. i'd do anything for her, and the only reason why she's here is because she wants to be here to celebrate with me."

there were butterflies in my stomach, violently flapping butterflies.

"she's one lucky girl," i said, smiling and vi shook her head.

"nah, i'm the lucky one," she said and soon she was waving goodbye as her manager came to get her.

vi went on to win 3 awards that night and in the pictures of her holding the awards, she's beaming ear to ear as she holds her girlfriend in her free arm. her girlfriend is also beaming just as hard, brilliant as the sun.

now i did not get to meet vi's girlfriend and maybe i never will.

but if someone is able to make vi that happy, to make a love so strong it lasts for years?

then she must be an angel.

stephanie williams

editor

[creatingblackcharacters]

Some General Notes, Week 1

(in no particular order, no you don't have to agree, no they're not "the right answer", no I'm not going to argue. They're just my thoughts!)

-What I definitely enjoyed seeing was (the discomfort and frustration of, rightfully so!) people realizing just how much writing and character design go hand in hand, when told they could not consider the writing! Context is a beast, isn't it? People unfortunately judge with their eyes a lot faster than they bother to read and comprehend (‼️‼️‼️) and so sometimes we have to think about what we've drawn, and what we're trying to or could possibly SAY with that design. It doesn't have to be super detailed, but little things can go a long way.

-White folk tended to overcorrect, with more negative opinions about certain designs than Black and NB fans of color. I don't think it came from a bad place, as much as a place of concern with some lack of understanding.

-Black viewers are overall quite gracious about Black character design if it looks like you cared enough to try (contrary to popular Tumblr and Societal Belief, we don't bite!) But it did sometimes feel that it was to the point of being too nice. There are a lot of Black people who will accept the bare minimum just to feel included, and I hope to one day see less of that. We deserve the effort!

-Measured in three separate groups, we actually tend to be on the same page about design! We won't see the end result of the polls til next week (sorry ahead of time about the poll notification onslaught) so I could be wrong, but usually after the first thirty minutes, our bars tended to trend similarly from what I saw. This is likely due to the bias of my userbase; I'm sure if this poll reached The Unfortunate Masses of Fan Racists, it would be different. We shall see!

-There is usually a beginning wave of NB fans of color that actually find designs better than Black people will, which I found interesting, but then it evens out over time.

-Professional artists seem to be real big fans of the fade. The fade and the killmonger. The fade is funny because fades have been around for decades, and no one ever cared this much, but suddenly there are fades every other character. I wish there were more teeny weeny afros and short locs and just loose curls. Twists too!

-A lot of people were surprised about some characters who were supposed to be Black (and actually were). Which is telling, both on your side as the viewer and their side as the artists! Because that means something was not conveyed, communicated, or understood when you consumed that media!

-Black folk, I love y'all, I'm saying this kindly and I want you to hear me: I think there were times where your emotional attachment to the design affected your answers, even when told to only base it off visuals (e.g., yes, I know that particular character wears wigs! I know that's in the writing! I hear y'all! But unfortunately, when told to look at that character with the pictures provided, without the writing, given the genre, no, that is not an apparent piece of information. I am sorry.)

-I think NB fans of color especially understood this concept, which is just because a character isn't Black doesn't mean they aren't still a person of color. I say that to mean, some of these people felt ambiguously brown to a point that yes, they could be anyone else! 80% of the blue haired characters submitted (and the majority of the gacha ones) fell into this category, imo. Like, we should not all have to share the One Brown for Representation.

-I definitely didn't think that people would assume that the answers were "is this design Black, nonblack, or white"... I must admit that it doesn't make much sense to me 😅 it explained some of the answers I saw, though. Felt like some folks had to be trolling. Unfortunate, not something I can control once posted. Moving on.

-I do wish more people understood that this was meant to be a thought exercise moreso than "this is the right answer" (though sometimes, there was a right answer lmao. Beau is trash IDC.) It's not to gauge "do you know" as much as "based off of what you know, what would you say". It's for you (and me) to gauge where you are! It's okay to realize that you don't know what you don't know!

[wolverigrl]

Hormonal

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I can't anymore with this man. I'm not quite sure with this part, bit I still you enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of Body Dysmorphic Order, angsty, a bit of fluff

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It had been almost two years since Hugh and I started dating, and life had finally settled into a wonderful routine. After the initial whirlwind of being labeled Hollywood's Power Couple, the constant media attention had finally calmed down. But even though the paparazzi had shifted their focus to new drama, we were still very much the couple that people looked up to - whether we liked it or not.

Hugh and I had been filming The Greatest Showman together, and it had been a dream come true for both of us. Playing Charity Barnum alongside him as P.T. Barnum was not only a professional highlight but a personal one. Every day, we got to share scenes, rehearse, and spend quality time together on set.

I'd also gotten close to his kids, Oscar, who was 15, and Ava, who was 10. Oscar was a typical teenager - sometimes distant but warm when it mattered. We bonded over our shared love for movies and music, and I had taken him to a few smaller premieres, which was pretty cool for him. Ava, on the other hand, was full of energy, always dragging me into whatever creative project she had going on. She loved to ask me about the costumes on set, always asking if I could sneak her something "cool" from the wardrobe department. We'd grown really close, and I adored being part of their lives.

Even Hugh's ex-wife, Deborra, had been nothing but gracious. I was worried about how our relationship might affect things with her, but she was kind and supportive from the start. We'd even had a few chats over coffee, which eased any awkwardness. There was no competition or resentment - just a shared love for Hugh and the kids.

But lately, something had shifted inside me. It started with the paparazzi photos. They had caught me in unflattering poses or oversized sweaters, and suddenly, the media was speculating that I might be pregnant.

One morning, while Hugh was making coffee, I decided to make light of the rumors.

I sat at the kitchen counter, scrolling through my phone and looking at the latest article headline: 'Is y/n pregnant? Signs Point to Yes!' I rolled my eyes.

"Hey, babe." said casually, glancing at him as he poured his coffee, "Apparently I'm Pregnant."

Hugh, mid-sip, immediately choked on his coffee, sputtering as he tried to regain his composure. "What?" he coughed out, his eyes wide in shock before a laugh escaped him. "What are you talking about?"

I snickered, showing him the article. "According to the tabloids, we're expecting!"

Hugh’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but then he tilted his head, a hint of concern creeping into his expression. “Well, your period’s still coming, though... right?”

I froze. The smile on my face faltered for a moment, and I realized, in that split second, that my period hadn’t come. It was late. Very late. I hadn’t even thought about it properly until now.

I must’ve looked shocked, because Hugh’s smile faded slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Right?”

I snapped out of it quickly, forcing a nod. “Yeah, of course. It’s just late.”

He stared at me for a moment, searching my face as if trying to figure out if I was serious. Then, with that signature Hugh charm, he broke into a grin, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close.

"How do they come up with this stuff?" He came over and kissed the top of my head. "You think they'd run out of things to speculate about?"

I laughed along, but something about the rumors hit closer to home than I was letting on. My body had changed recently. Despite working out regularly and eating well, I had gained a little weight. It wasn't much, but enough to make me feel insecure. And with the tabloids dissecting every detail of my appearance, it had started to eat away at me.

Hugh didn't seem to notice - or, if he did, he never mentioned it. He was as loving and affectionate as ever, but for the last few weeks, I had started pulling away from him, especially when things got intimate. I couldn't help but think about my body every time his hands roamed over my skin. I wasn't the woman I was when we first met, and I hated that it was getting to me.

That night, after we'd finished filming, we finally had some quiet, time together. Hugh was in a playful mood, and as we curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in my hand, I could feel him inching closer. His fingers brushed lightly along my thigh, and I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

"I miss this, love." he murmured against my ear, his voice deep and sultry. His lips trailed soft kisses along my neck, and I shivered under his touch. His hand slowly slipping under my shirt, inching up toward my skin.

My breath hitched, and for a moment, I wanted to lose myself in him. But as his hand started to lift my shirt, I tensed

"Hugh.." I whispered, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

He slightly pulled back, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" I swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. "I can't right now."

His frustration was palpable as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. "You've been pulling away from me for weeks, y/n. Every time I try to be close to you, you shut me out."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not you." I said quietly. "It's me."

Hugh sighed, his expression softening as he reached for my hand. "Then tell me. Talk to me. What's going on?"

I hesitated, my heart racing in my chest. I didn't want to burden him with my insecurities, but I couldn't keep bottling it up either.

"I've gained weight." I admitted in a small voice, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. "I've been working out, eating right, doing everything I'm supposed to, and my body's still changing. I feel.. different. And every time you touch me, l just.. I don't feel like myself."

Hugh's face softened as he pulled me into his arms. "Y/n." he whispered, his voice full of love, "you're beautiful and I don't care if your body changes. I love you, all of you. always will."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I buried my face in his chest, grateful for his warmth, his understanding. "I know." I whispered, my voice breaking. "But it's hard. The media the comments, the expectations.. just don't feel like I measure up anymore."

Hugh tilted my chin up, his eyes locked with mine. "You don't have to measure up to anything. You're enough, y/n. You've always been enough."

I nodded, wiping my tears away. His words brought comfort, but the insecurities still lingered in the back of my mind. I knew I had to work through them, but having Hugh by my side made it feel a little less scary.

The next morning I woke up feeling lighter as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I decided to take control of the narrative. If people were going to speculate about my body, I will be the one to set the record straight.

I grabbed my phone and took a deep breath before snapping a photo of myself in my workout clothes. I wasn't hiding anything. No filters, no posing to hide the weight I'd gained. Just me, as I was.

I opened Instagram, uploaded the photo, and typed my caption:

>>y/n instagram: Alright, let's clear some things up. No, I'm not pregnant. Yes, I've gained some weight. And honestly? That's okay. Bodies thange, hormones do their thing and sometimes despite working out and eating right, your body just decides to go through a phase. I've been feeling insecure lately, and I know I'm not alone in that. But here's the thing - I'm still me. I still love my body, and I'm working on being kinder to myself every day. So if anyone else is out there feeling the same way, just know you're not alone. We're all more than our appearances, but we're allowed to love ourselves in every stage we go through.

Now, if you'll excuse me, l'm off to eat a piece of cake. No guilt, just love.😋<<

I hit post, my heart racing as I watched the comments flood in. The outpouring of support was immediate.

>>logan1noir: Thank you for being so real! You're beautiful no matter what!<<

>>celesty634: This made me cry, I've been feeling the same way, and it helps to know I'm not alone❤️<<

>>dcxmrvl22: You are GORGEOUS! Keep shining, girl🫶🏻<<

>>chrisevans: Proud of you!!❤️<<

>>blakelively: How do you look good in everything??<<

>>vancityreynolds: As your humble friend, I demand you to stop setting impossible standards for the rest of us!<<

>>zendaya: QUEEN👑<<

>>thehughjackman: Always proud of you my love❤️<<

Later that evening, Hugh and I hosted a small dinner at our house. Just a few close friends - Blake, Ryan, Zendaya, Zac Efron and some other close cast members were there.

The wine was flowing, and the laughter was contagious. But all day, I had been feeling a little off. I was moody, switching from happy to sad in the span of minutes, and I was feeling unusually hormonal.

Hugh noticed, of course. He always did. And I couldn't help but tease him throughout the evening. Little touches here and there, suggestive whispers when no one was looking. His reactions were priceless, the way his jaw would clench, his eyes darkening with desire.

"You're playing with fire, darling." he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin as we stood by the kitchen island.

I smirked, leaning closer to him, my lips brushing against his ear. "What are you going to do about it?"

Hugh shot me a look that sent a chill down my spine, his hand resting on my lower back, his fingers teasing the hem of my dress. But before he could answer, Ryan came strolling over, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Ryan teased, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the two of us. "You two seem a little preoccupied tonight."

I laughed, pulling away from Hugh slightly, but not before I felt his hand give my waist a playful squeeze. Hugh shook his head, his expression amused but clearly flustered by the interruption.

"Just enjoying the evening." Hugh replied with a chuckle, trying to act casual, though I could see the heat still lingering in his eyes.

Ryan leaned in, lowering his voice dramatically. "I hope you two are careful, though. With all that tension, you might just end up giving those pregnancy rumors something real to work with."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, Blake sauntered over, a knowing smile on her face. "He's right, you know.: she said, her eyes twinkling with humor. "You two have that look - like you're up to something."

Blake's eyes lingered on me a little too long, and I noticed her frown slightly, as if reading something in my expression that I hadn't yet figured out myself.

Later in the evening, after dinner was served and the conversation had flowed naturally from movie projects to family gossip, I excused myself to the kitchen for a moment to gather my thoughts. I was feeling off - moody, emotional, and kind of disconnected.

Blake followed me, her eyes sharp as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "Okay, spill it."

I blinked at her you talking "What are you talking about?"

Blake tilted her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "You've been acting... odd tonight. Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "Blake, no! I'm definitely not pregnant! I even joked with Hugh about that this morning."

She studied me for a moment, her gaze still concerned. "It's just... I've been pregnant three times now, and I can spot the signs. You're giving off all the vibes."

I sighed, leaning against the counter and rubbing my temples. "I don't know.. I mean I've been feeling weird lately, but I just thought it was stress. l've gained some weight, my moods are all over the place, but I don't think I'm pregnant."

Blake softened, placing a hand on my arm. "If you ever wanna talk about it, you know I'm here, right?"

I smiled at her, appreciating her concern. "Thanks, Blake. I think I just need to figure out what's going on with my body."

The night ended on a good note, with everyone laughing and chatting as they left. Ryan, of course, couldn't resist making one last joke. "Don't go making any little Jackmans tonight, okay? Or at least wait until we're gone."

I rolled my eyes, waving them off, "Shut it, Ryan!"

Once the house was quiet and the dishes were done, I finally let out a deep breath, grateful for the silence. But as soon as I sat down on the couch, I felt a familiar cramp in my lower abdomen.

I froze, my eyes widening. "No way!"

I hurried to the bathroom, and sure enough, there it was. My period had arrived. I wasn't pregnant.

Relief washed over me, mixed with an odd sense of joy. After all the speculation and confusion, my body had finally given me an answer.

I returned to the living room, finding Hugh still in the kitchen, cleaning the last wine glasses. He looked up as I entered, and I couldn't help but grin.

"What's with the smile?" he asked, setting the glasses down and coming over to me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him softly. "You're going to laugh." Hughs brow furrowed slightly. "Why?"

"Well I just got my period!"

Hugh blinked, then laughed softly, pulling me closer.

"Well, that's good to know. l'm glad you're not stressed about it anymore."

"Me too!" I said, leaning into his embrace, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

He kissed my forehead, his hands resting on my hips as he looked down at me, his voice soft and teasing. "So, since you're really not pregnant and everything's fine.. does that mean we can stop avoiding each other now?"

I looked up at him, biting my lip playfully. "You know I was thinking the same thing."

Hugh's eyes darkened with that similiar heat, and before I knew it, he had me pinned against the kitchen counter, his lips crashing into mine.

His hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer, and this time, I didn't stop him. I didn't feel the need to. I felt confident, desired, and most importantly, loved. As his hands slipped under my shirt, his touch igniting a fire inside me, I let myself give in to him completely.

"Hugh..." I whispered, my voice breathless as his lips trailed down my neck.

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his own filled with love and desire. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

I smiled, my heart swelling with affection for the man in front of me.

"I'm not going anywhere."

And with that, we lost ourselves in each other, the weight of the past few weeks melting away as we found comfort and passion in each other's arms. The insecurities, the rumors, the stress - it all disappeared as we reminded each other of what really mattered.

In the next morning, the world felt a little brighter. I've got an overwhelming support after my post and Hugh was by my side through everything. We spent the morning lazily wrapped up in each other, laughing and talking about the future.

Hugh kissed me softly, his hand gently tracing patterns on my skin.

"You know, I love you just the way you are, right? No matter what."

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"I know and I love you too. Always."

Our love had been tested, but we came out stronger than ever. And as I lay there in his arms, I knew that no natter what life threw our way, we would face it together.

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Next part

[woradat]

just wonder.. will you write for rodimus? 🥺 I mean, that jump-to-your-soul pic of him have to mean something right??

also do you take any req?

Done with your ex

SUMMARY – just an ego through the roof captain and his ex on the same ship, long trip together

PAIRING – rodimus x reader

NOTE – you take a hint huh. What are you, a government spy? I'm already working on him for a while now. And yes, I do a requests. You can see the rules/details in the pinned post. I just added+edit about few day ago

The loading ramp of the Lost Light hissed open like the universe itself was trying to be dramatic

Rodimus barely glanced up. He was in the middle of arguing with Swerve about whether installing retractable flame decals on the hull would count as 'atmospheric augmentation" or just "unnecessary and definitely going to kill us"

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his optic—and everything in his CPU short-circuited

There you were

Striding up the ramp like you owned it. Like you hadn’t ghosted out of his life with nothing but a pointed sentence and that half-smile that always meant checkmate. Like you hadn’t once told him—flatly, and with clinical precision—that loving him felt like "trying to put a fire out with gasoline"

And dammit if you didn’t look exactly the same. Polished. Poised. Primed for war and polite company. Elegant as ever. Calm as a sunset before a Category Five energon storm

You weren’t flash, never were—but you had that aura. That smooth, coiled presence like a vibroblade sheathed in silk. Oh the look—that faint, unreadable smile like you knew something he didn’t and were gracious enough to let him flounder in ignorance. That same neutral expression you used when pretending not to judge the tactical decisions of people clearly beneath your IQ range. That same stride that said “I’ve already calculated the probability of this going sideways and I brought snacks"

Rodimus froze, his spark dropped so hard it might’ve left a dent in his internals ‘No. Nope. Absolutely not!’

It couldn’t be you

Except, of course, it was. Because the universe loved poetic suffering and apparently it was his turn to monologue through one. He stared. You stared back. Unbothered. Professional. Radiating the exact same emotional energy as someone walking past their ex at a high-society gala—with better posture and zero regrets

Rodimus blinked so hard his optic lens recalibrates “What— what are you doing here?”

You didn’t even flinch. Just turned to him with a look that was one part serene and two parts smug, tilted your helm slightly. That little angle that always meant “I heard that. I’m just choosing violence later” Your voice, when it came, was like silk over sharpened steel

“Captain. How lovely to see you again”

“You’ve got to be—this is—no. Nope. Absolutely not”

Ultra Magnus appeared like a summoned ghost behind you, arms crossed, expression stiffer than a rusted gear “As I explained in my three prior reports, they’ve been appointed to the crew as strategic analyst”

Rodimus blinked "Three reports?"

“High-level pattern recognition. Crisis forecasting, multi-factional battle simulations, inter-faction negotiation” Magnus went on, tone flatter than the C.I.C. floor “They’ve been correct approximately 91.3% of the time. Statistically, that qualifies them as one of the best. They will be a valuable addition”

You gave a modest nod. Like someone who totally didn’t memorize those numbers already “Besides” you added smoothly

“I’m here for work. Nothing more. You can unclench now, Captain”

Rodimus looked like someone had just served him a steaming mug of his own poor life choices “Right. Work. Of course. Just work. Nothing else weird about this at all. Nope. Totally chill"

You stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that your electromagnetic field skimmed his. Cool, clean, unreadable. Like an encrypted data packet wrapped in charm and sarcasm

“You always did have trouble being chill” you murmured “Still trying to solve everything by flying straight into it?”

“But don’t worry, captain. I’m not here to relive the past”

Rodimus sputtered. Behind him, Swerve audibly choked on a laugh “Oh, Primus, it is the ex. The one who called him ‘reckless with delusions of grandeur' I thought that was a metaphor”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Just tilted your helm, optics flicked to him—neutral. But your smirk said “I win”

And with that, you turned and start walking down the hall—measured, composed, calculating—like a battlefield was unfolding beneath your pedes and you’d already chosen where all the pieces would fall – Rodimus stared after you like he’d just watched his worst mistake reappear in haute couture and get a standing ovation, as if to twist the energon dagger in his spark just a little further, you said—without turning back

“And for the record… I liked you better before you started trying to be respectable

Rodimus stood frozen, expression somewhere between awe, horror, and very mild arousal

“This is fine” he said out loud “This is great.. This is the best worst day I’ve ever had”

“Wanna talk about it?” Swerve offered

“Wanna be spaced through an airlock?”

“You’ve been out here for twenty minutes” Drift said, suddenly beside him. Rodimus jumped like he’d been caught digging through a black ops file “I’m not spying..!” “Sure” Drift glanced pointedly at the window “Just… monitoring morale with your face pressed against the glass?” Rodimus shoved a blank datapad into his hands "I’m checking their reassignment logs! That’s normal. Curiosity is normal” "You could just ask” “I can’t just ask! What if they think I still care?” “Rodimus, you’re literally stalking them through a wall" Rodimus made a noise somewhere between static and a dying turbo-ratchet “Okay, fine. Then you ask”

“Me?” “Yeah. You’ve got that wise monk aura. People think your invasive questions are… philosophical" Drift gave him a look so dry it might’ve been illegal in five star systems “If they throw something at me” he said, turning to leave “I’m blaming you”

Rodimus was not asking

He was simply conducting a targeted data acquisition exercise. Command-level intel. Tactical morale assessment. Strategic background audit on one of his newest officers. Perfectly normal captain things. Not weird. Not personal. Absolutely not fueled by the gnawing ache of unresolved emotional abandonment

“So” he began, too casually, sidling up to the corner of Swerve’s bar where Drift was trying to enjoy a moment of monk-like silence and absolutely not entertain any of Rodimus’s mid-spark crises “hypothetically—if someone used to date someone, and that someone got assigned to their ship without, say, any warning whatsoever, that would be… strange, right?”

“Strange. Uncomfortable. Emotionally volatile” Drift didn’t even look up from his cup “So yes. Very you”

Rodimus scoffed. Loudly. Overcompensating “This isn’t about me”

“Of course not” Drift said blandly “We’re speaking in totally neutral hypotheticals about your insanely sharp, tactically brilliant, emotionally impenetrable ex who now occupies a front-row seat in every strategy meeting like an elegantly silent death sentence”

Rodimus’s scowl could have curdled energon “They’re not that elegant”

“They once ended a meeting by folding a datachip in half. With one hand. While smiling”

Rodimus muttered something under his breath about “intimidation tactics” and “showoffs”. Drift, clearly bored of the deflection game, pulled up a datapad with a flick of the wrist—graceful, like a librarian about to ruin your life “Alright. Let’s see what your not at all relevant ex has been up to post-breakup…”

Rodimus leaned in. But not like he cared. More like he was... intellectually engaged. Professionally intrigued. Possibly a little nauseous

“They worked under Prowl"

“PROWL?! You mean—rules incarnate? Mister ‘Let’s Commit War Crimes But Quietly’ !?”

“The one and only” Drift confirmed smoothly “High-level strategy corps. Joint command ops. Dozens of successful missions. Commendations for tactical elegance, command precision—”

“Okay, okay, you can stop reading their résumé, this isn’t a talent show” Rodimus began to pace, movements sharp and erratic like a hovercraft trying to salsa “They worked with me and said I was reckless, but then they go partner up with Prowl? That sentient flowchart? Seriously?”

Drift was already sipping again “Maybe they like the quiet, measured type now. The kind who doesn’t detonate their own escape pod just to spell ‘hello’ in midair”

“That happened one time”

“And it was somehow still in the mission report”

Rodimus groaned into his hands. He imagined you and Prowl standing next to each other, talking shop, making flawless tactical adjustments while not even blinking at each other — It was horrible. It was clinical. It was worse than anything he could’ve imagined

“What else?” he asked, in the voice of someone about to regret every answer

Drift’s optics flicked “They turned down a permanent command position. Said they wanted a ‘change of pace' ”

“—So… they chose this ship. My ship”

“Seems that way”

“Knowing I was the captain”

“Still seems that way”

Rodimus blinked. Then frowned. Then blinked again, slower. Like it would change the data “So what you’re telling me is: either they’ve secretly forgiven me and came to rekindle the flame—”

“Highly unlikely”

“—or they came here to watch me fail up close, with popcorn in hand and a tactical spreadsheet”

“That one sounds more plausible”

Rodimus placed both hands dramatically on the bartop and huffed. Dramatically. Theatrically. The only way he could before he declared, straightening up “I’m fine.. I’m a professional. This is my ship. I am not threatened by my ex working with a glorified calculator"

...

..

“…Do you think they ever kissed?”

“Please go to therapy”

—

The outpost was still burning behind you

Fires licked at twisted steel frames and shattered windowpanes, the heat rippling off slagged ground like a second atmosphere. The smoke stung your optics, even with the filters on, but you didn’t blink. Hot Rod stood a few paces away, armor scorched and mouth set in that stubborn line that always came right before he said something reckless. You didn’t give him the chance

“What were you thinking?” Your voice was level. Too level. The kind of calm that meant someone was furious. Hot Rod flinched. Not visibly—but you knew the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the flicker in his EM field when he was caught “I saved them”

He said “I had to”

“You disobeyed a coordinated strategy, blew through our cover, and almost got yourself killed—again”

He looked at you now. Really looked. Heat still clung to him like a second skin, optics burning, frame vibrating with leftover adrenaline. And somewhere underneath all that fire was a flicker of… confusion. As if he still didn’t understand why you weren’t proud of him

“But it worked”

“That’s not the point”

You turned to face him fully, field tightening, anger settling into your shoulders like weight “You’re not a one-mech army, Hot Rod. You’re not invincible. You can’t keep throwing yourself into every explosion and expecting everyone else to clean up after you”

He stepped forward, hands half-raised “I did it to protect other”

“No. You did it because you wanted to be seen protecting other”

There it was. The silence after a sharp cut. His optics widened, and for a moment you saw it, that bare, wounded flicker of a spark hit too close to the truth. But he covered it with bravado—because that’s what he did. That’s what he always did “So that’s it? You think I’m just some attention seeking show off?”

“I think you’re brave. I think you’re passionate. I think you’ll make a great hero one day–”

“..But I also think you’ll never learn how to lead, if you can’t learn how to listen” That hit deeper than the last shot he’d taken in the field

He turned away, jaw locked, fists clenched “So what, then?” he said, voice tight

“You’re walking away? Just like that?”

You hesitated—but only for a moment “I don’t want to. But I can’t spend my life patching up the aftermath of every decision you make on impulse –You always dive first and ask questions later. And I.. I want to build something that lasts. Not chase something that burns” you admitted softly

The silence between you was long and cruel —without another word—you stepped back. Hot Rod didn’t stop you. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what hurt the most

After the breakup with Hot Rod, you took a high-ranking strategic position under Prowl—not romantically, but deeply professionally and intellectually tense

Prowl respected your mindset but hated your moral flexibility and tendency to “go rogue if the math is prettier that way” You – in turn, found Prowl’s rigid morality fascinating and enjoyed poking holes in his logic — Their relationship was legendary among staff—half strategy meetings, half philosophy battles. You both made an unstoppable duo on paper. But behind closed doors?

“That is not regulation protocol”

“Neither is surviving half the war. I’ll take my odds”

Eventually, you left when the war ended, saying something like: “If I stay any longer, I’ll either become you or throw you out an airlock. Neither’s ideal”

The medbay lights flickered once before steadying again. Outside, the sky over the outpost glowed red with the aftermath of an explosion. You stood at the outside, arms crossed, helm tilted just enough to convey “I’m not mad, but I’m seconds away from strangling you with my own field”

The door hissed open with a battered flair, and there he was—Hot Rod in all his half-scorched, grinning, chaos-stained glory. One arm was covered in carbon scoring. His left shoulder was leaking a thin trickle of energon. There was what looked like a thruster casing lodged in his hip plate

And he was still smiling. Of course he was

“You should’ve seen it” Hot Rod said, voice bouncing with adrenaline “I looped around the ridge, came in low—boom! Took out the flank in one go. Didn’t even need backup”

You didn’t look up from your datapad “You told me you’d follow the plan”

“Technically, I did. For the first ten seconds”

“And after that?”

“...It got boring?”

You set the datapad down. Slowly

Hot Rod’s grin twitched “It worked, didn’t it?” he said, stepping closer “Mission success. I’m standing. The ridge is rubble. Everyone’s cheering”

“You nearly didn’t come back”

You stared at him—really stared. All that molten gold, still burning in his optics. His armor still warm from the blast. That stupid, crooked grin he wore like a shield

“You know I hate improvising. Not because it’s reckless. But because it’s you. You gamble like your life isn’t worth anything”

“Hey, come on—”

“Rod”

That landed. His grin faltered for real now

“I’m serious. Every time you run off-script, it’s like you’re testing fate. And I’m the one stuck writing the damage report” You stepped closer, thumb brushing a burn mark near his jaw. The scorch made your spark ache a little. He leaned into your touch without thinking. Like a reflex. Like your hand on his face was the only real thing in the place

“One of these days” you murmured “you’ll pull that stunt and I won’t be there to drag your aft out”

“That’s not true” he said softly

“No?”

“You’d come back for me. Always”

You wanted to argue. But you couldn’t. Not really. Because even now—even furious, even worn out—you were here. And when he leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth his head dipped low down to your jaw, kissing soft like apology, you let him. His hands found your waist. Familiar. Easy. A rhythm you both still remembered

“You love it when I push my luck” he said into your helm

“I love you, Roddy. That doesn’t mean I love watching you destroy yourself”

That hit harder than a mine to the chest. He didn’t pull away. Just held you tighter. You sighed, pressing your faceplate against his shoulder. He still smelled faintly like ozone and energon. Still radiated that wild, sun-hot energy that made you both love and fear him

“Next time” you said into the space between you “you disobey a field order, I’m duct-taping you to Ultra Magnus”

“...Kinky”

You laughed. Just a little. Couldn’t help it “Don’t make me regret loving you”

There was a long silence. No snappy comeback. No flirt. Just a stillness that made your spark ache. His arms tightened around you and for one fleeting, fragile moment—you let yourself believe this would last

—

You are alone in the quiet of the hallway. Staring at the window, the stars wheeling slowly past beyond the glass. It wasn't dramatic solitude—you weren't hiding. Just… decompressing. That was all. Your optics drifted to your own reflection—faint, transparent, caught in the black

And for some damn reason, his voice echoed there instead

“You'd come back for me. Always"

Primus

You let your head fall back with a soft thunk against the reinforced wall. He wasn't wrong

You had come back. Not for him—never that, never openly. But… well. You hadn't exactly gone out of your way to avoid the Lost Light, either. And when Magnus had offered the post? You could've said no. You didn't and now here you were. Sharing meetings. Sharing air. Sharing old ghosts

Your fingers tapped against your datapad in a slow, guilty rhythm

“Stupid charming idiot with fire in his optics and no sense of self-preservation” you muttered under your breath. You knew that smile he gave you in the last meeting. Knew it like a habit you never quite kicked and the worst part? That stupid little ember in your spark still glowed when he looked your way

“Okay. Fine. He was right” You let out a small, strangled sound through your vents

Not quite a groan. Not quite a sigh. Just the noise of someone on the edge of "Why am I like this?" and "I could still jump out the airlock and make it look like strategy” You pressed your head lightly against the cool surface of the wall. Just for a second. Just enough to feel the metal and imagine it was hitting you back. No matter how reckless he was. No matter how much he grinned like the universe owed him forgiveness. No matter how much it still ached when you looked at him and remembered the way things used to be. You stood upright again with a snap of your shoulders and a squint of righteous self-annoyance

“Next time if he opens that mouth" you mumbled “I’m going to verbally gut him. Real clean. Sharp. Professional. Something with bite, doubling the sarcasm. Go for the ego. Aim for the fins. That’ll shut him up" You narrowed your optics at your reflection—your own face looking smug in the glass “He gets one more pass. After that, I’m escalating. He’s going to wish I never came back”

“Stars, I hope he does that thing with his optics again though…” and maybe—maybe—if you kept throwing enough barbs, you could stop remembering how it felt when he held you like that and made you believe the fire wouldn’t burn

You buried your face in your hand

“..I need therapy"

[maddipoof]

let’s understand that this is Mara immediately post breakup so this means i get to have it as wild as i want it to be...but anyway, all i’ve been thinking about is rebounding with Danny, duh. Beyond suggestive, it's directly implied, 2k words and a big thank you to @frnchgirls, rose is a most gracious help. Enjoy 🥰

“What about like this?”

If anyone asked Danny the series of events that led him here, there would be no sane answer. Friday night he meets you at the Vandals’ bar, Saturday night he learns that you live in Chicago but were dating another Vandal in a different chapter and just suffered a messy break up, and by Sunday afternoon he’s got you posing on his bed with the brand new knowledge that before you got into that relationship you were a lingerie model until that guy made you quit. 

“Danny?” You ask him again, leaning on your elbows and one knee slightly bent to the side over the other.

He shakes himself out of his daydreaming to realize that reality is ten times better and hopes you don’t notice his dazed off gaze from your side of the camera. “Yeah?”

“Is this a good pose?” 

Kathy told you that you should get back into modeling, then offered Danny to help you practice, maybe get new photos to show some agents.  Neither of you were busy this weekend, so now here you are in a brand new soft blue babydoll negligee that she made you buy the minute she heard about the split, on Danny’s bed. 

God, how he washed those sheets and cleaned all over his apartment as soon as you asked if you could do it at his place. It hasn’t been so neat since he toured the place. But now there you are wanting him to tell you if you look good in your lingerie on his bed. But photography is his job, he’s a professional, he can do this.

He could do this, if his tongue wasn’t suddenly tied until he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, maybe you just lean back a little more?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He captures the picture and tries some more from a few different angles. “What about laying down?”

“Mhm,” you move a bit further down the bed and let your hair fall around you as best it could on its own. “Here?”

“Yeah, can I move your hair?”

“Yeah,” he rearranges your strands so they frame your face perfectly and look as effortless as possible.

“Gorgeous.” The shudder clicks right as he said it, so fast that he hits it a second time just to catch your smile when he says it.

“Really?” He catches the moment your face changes from eyes closed and sultry, to open and joyous.

“Beautiful.”

“Me? Or just your pictures? 

“You, and the pictures of you.”

“Thank you,” you roll over again and he gets one from another angle. 

It was never anything crazy, the sets you modeled. Just some odd jobs for more local boutiques, never anything obscene or ridiculously lavish. Danny refuses to believe that though. You make plastic rhinestones shine like diamonds. Machine spun cotton lace looks like hand threaded silk from Paris the second it touches your skin. 

“Do you think we got enough of this one?” you ask.

“I think so. I can get these developed and have them ready in a few days,” he starts packing his camera away. “What size did you say you wanted?”

“Oh I don’t know, but— Well actually I brought one more thing to try on. Unless you want to be done?”

He’s not sure how much more of this he can really take. How much longer can he be in the same room as you before he busts just from looking at you. 

“Yeah, sure- I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He tries not to stare as you slide of the bed and start looking through the bag you brought on his way out the door. 

3 minutes later your head is poked out of the door and into the kitchen, “Danny, you can come in now.”

Oh what a sight you are. The black nightgown reaches down all the way to your ankles, the silky fabric falls over your hips so perfectly, and the only thing between the air and your chest is a thin layer of the finest lace he’s ever seen. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

“That’s a shame.” He can’t believe he’s said that, especially in the tone he did, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even wear it just by yourself. You must know how you look in it, how it looks tailored to your body in every square inch. 

“I know. But he didn’t like it. It’s vintage Chantelle, all silk. Didn’t know how to appreciate it properly.” You sit back on the bed again and just then he notices the slit up one side that just about nears the top of your thigh. 

You’re about to take a new pose when he asks you a most peculiar question. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“Do you mind if I move you?” He says with more confidence this time and what a gift that he did.

“Sure.”

He sets the camera down on his dresser and comes towards you. With his hands on your shoulders— your nearly bare shoulders, his thumbs fitting perfectly just into the dips of your clavicles —he leads you to lay down against the pillows and rearranges your hair. He takes one of your hands and places it beside your head, the other he moves across your torso with your hand cusping your hip bone. He steps back a bit to consider your legs, with respect to the slit. After slowly, so slowly coasting down the length of your leg, he softly pulls one ankle down straight, and pushes the other slitted one up so that it is slightly bent at the knee and tilts it towards the other. 

He takes a second to look at you, really look at you, and he can’t believe anyone would ever try to keep you from this. 

Maybe he’s just getting to know your form, for the sake of the composition, you think. But only for a moment before you see him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, just for a second but you notice. 

Finally, finally, he takes the first picture of you like this. With the click of the shutter you’ve made your mind up, you decide to press your luck. “What if I like…” you bring the hand that was on your hip up to your mouth and bite the top knuckle of your index finger.

“Yes.”

“What’s the look you’re thinking though?”

“They’re your pictures. I’m thinking whatever you want me to think.”

“But you’re the photographer, the artist.”

“You’re the art.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He nearly drops the camera. “What?”

“They like when pictures tell stories, the story would be that I’m messy and ravished and the clothes are serving their intended purpose. If you’re alright with that?”

He so absolutely, most certainly, positively is more than just alright with that. “Yeah, ok.”

You push yourself back up on the bed while he positions himself at the edge. “So how do you wa—“ he’s cut off by your pull to his collar and the press of your lips. Surpassing his initial surprise he brings a hand up around you to hold your waist, and the other up to your jaw. Messy, you want it messy. And salacious, lascivious even. Beyond suggestive, obvious is what you need. He can tell from the way you continue to pull him into you even as his chest is flush against yours. 

You pull away panting for no more than a second to order “Get the camera off the bed.” How sweet of you to be concerned, he nearly leaps over you to put it on the nightstand and he’d like to say ‘if it were any less expensive’ he would have just thrown it, but he knows that the price of it wasn’t what stopped him, it was the fear of damaging even a single one of those pictures of you. 

As he’s leaning over you, you slide down a little further on the bed so he can reach you easier. Or maybe to muss your hair up a little more if it’s against the pillows, or any other excuse you could make to make it seem like this is all for the picture and not your own desires. 

From there it is licks, bites, tugs, sucks of lips. And you’re trying, you’re both trying to keep your hands out of it, but how could you when his hair is so soft and the back of his neck is the perfect shape for you to hold. And how could he when your skin is so perfect and your bare leg is right there.

“I want a hickey.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss my neck.” He kisses you twice more on his way to your throat and you can’t help the sound you make when he reaches the perfect spot. Already he has you gasping for air. “Oh god.” His hand slithers up the slit, sliding even higher in search of your hip bone or waist to hold. 

“Wait,” He lifts himself to be eye level with you, “wait—“

“Hm?”

“Sorry, just…You’re—This is real now, right?”

“Yes, yes, very real.” You rush to pull him back down to your lips and nearly crash noses with the way he rushes down to meet you. 

“Mmph,” he groans at the scratch of your nails across his scalp and just the sound makes your back arch. Moving down again, he passes soft kisses down the valley of your chest. You’re positive he can feel the beat of your heart through every inch of your skin. How you’ve missed this, being wanted, being adored. And how he’s missed crossing beyond the other side of the lens, the feel of sculpting another body just by the skill of his touch. 

As he’s pushing the side of your skirt up and away a sudden fear strikes you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” He immediately sits back and takes his hands away, looking into your eyes for any cause for concern.

“I’m so sorry, but I really don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh,” you see him immediately relax, “So…”

You make no answer, though you do sit up to your knees and move the skirt out from underneath you. With a gesture to the strap that has fallen off your shoulder, he finally gets the message. However, in the spirit of fairness, his own shirt is the first thing to go and before you have time to remember your original intent you both rise on your knees just to kiss again. You feel before you look while your hands roam his torso. 

And slowly, so slowly, through wandering presses, pulls, and squeezes, he reaches the sides of your thighs and takes your nightgown by the seams to lift it over your head. He takes it by the straps to hang by the corner of the headboard rather than tossing it to the floor. 

You guide him forwards as you move to your back again, his knee moves between your legs while his fingertips smooth along your jaw. His eyes dance around your face, and as embarrassed as he may be to admit it, he takes a fleeting glance down the space between your bodies. An idea flashes before him, a bold one, but at this point in the afternoon he’s not sure there’s much left that could happen between you two that’d be too bold. He reaches for the camera slowly enough that you knew exactly what he wants. You resist the instinct to shy away when you still see his soft gaze over the camera. The shudder clicks and he drops it back on the nightstand, “That one’s not making it into the book,” Danny smirks at his own teasing before leaning back into you to finish what he started with a smile still on his lips. 

[circlebuttons]

PTSD- Simon Riley x Reader

-a little blurb abt how i think stubborn Simon would neglect caring for his ptsd for as long as possible

_

Simon made a conscious effort to not combine work and home, but his unconscious isn't as gracious. Simon began to have PTSD night terrors and for the most part he could avoid them by creating an erratic sleeping schedule to break the onset of them. He was determined to home remedy them like no big deal. For a while you’d wake up at 3am sometimes to reach for your bedside water and he'd already be up handing it to you before shushing you back off to bed before you can finish asking all your questions. He had gone from interrupting his sleep to avoiding it all together. You'd come back home sometime and he'd be sound asleep on the couch catching up on sleep, or even standing up and sleeping mid day. You wanted to be supportive, but the sleep deprivation he was giving himself became ridiculous. You argued that if they weren't bad enough to where he needed to see a professional then he could prove it by sleeping normally.

He had tried and then unexpectedly throughout the week he had noticed a dark mark on your side,"Is this a bruise?" He asks, thumbing at it.

"Simon stop" you mumble, attempting to swat his hand away from your side.

He scoffs, and adds his other hand to hold you still. "Where did you get this from?" he asks you with a stern look hardened across his face.

You look up at him with your eyes widened in innocence "It’s nothing. I clipped the counter earlier, just clumsy"

He expression changes like he wants to call you a fucking liar so bad, but he has no way to prove it and you know it. You both just sit there staring at each other until he lets you go, sulking out of the room. He spends most of his off day sulking and brooding around the house, you barely even catch sight of him until you look for him to announce that dinner is ready. You heard him go into the bathroom, so you round the hall corner prepared to softly knock and extend an invite to the table. Instead the door is cracked and you watch as he pulls his prescriptions from the cabinet to take them for the first time in a while.

You hold your breath at the sight of it and wait until he closes the cabinets to knock on the door. "Baby dinner is ready if you want it" you speak softly to him through the door and after a while of silence you just take it as a loss, mumbling "I'll just wrap it for you." before going back to the kitchen.

You sit down to eat and eventually Simon comes to join you at the table. He unwraps his plate and the two of you sit in silence as you eat, both of you stealing glances at each other occasionally.

You’re the first to leave the table and spend the rest of the night sitting in bed on your phone. Simon is no stranger to the couch or guest room, although it’d be nice to sleep together you won’t stress him coming to bed. It’s gets later and you’ve turned off the lamp on the side table and you’ve rolled over to finally fall asleep, thoroughly surprised when you hear the click of the bedroom door closing and feel the dip in the mattress next to you.

Simon lays down next to you, pulling your body by your hips into his chest, letting his head rest above yours. You burrow your face closer to his neck mumbling a Goodnight into his skin.

"G'night love" he mumbles kissing the top of your head and letting his hand drift from its place on your hip to your bruised side, trying to softly run his fingers over it. You don't have the heart to tell him his touch isn't as soft as he thinks, but it doesn’t matter because you’re satisfied with the thought of him being able to sleep throughout the night in your arms.

[cocoa-rococo]

i CANNOT stop thinking about the watson and sherlock dynamic from the awakened. there's something so utterly vulnerable about it.

like. sherlock, in the mildest terms, is Fucking Going Through It. lost his mom, is on poor terms with his brother, and is grappling with the idea of this otherworldly, cosmic entity connected to this case not only existing, but being real enough to influence his mind, the one place he considers -- perhaps on some level -- sacred, or at the very least, an important part of himself. he is desperately trying to keep a grasp on himself and what he knows to be true, on top of keeping strictly on professional terms with watson instead of letting him in, even when it's obvious he's very dear to him.

this whole case has him going off the deep end and sinking further and further into this mystery. the fact that he doesn't feel in control of what's happening -- or even know what's happening, really -- is the one thing he's terrified of, in a way. he's scared that if he goes mad, or loses his mind, he won't have anything left of him. it's why it's one of the most pressing options during his confrontation with rochester.

it's also why his announcement to rochester of "i have made a friend," is so oddly tender in that scene. because if nothing else -- if he's either mad or still sane, if he knows that this is the end, if nothing else really does matter -- that much is true, as well. and that's not even getting into the ending and final cutscene of the game.

and watson! oh my gracious, watson. watson has no idea what the fuck he's doing or why he's involved in any of this, how he got dragged into this mess, only that he's following sherlock to help him and this case. watson underplays himself so much in this investigation, thinking himself as a coward in so many aspects, even when he's shown multiple times to be braver than he thinks; lying to gygax to eventually get the key, standing up to mycroft, being willing to follow sherlock practically into hell to help him, even if it makes him uncomfortable on multiple layers. he's trying to keep himself put together enough for the both of them.

he practically word vomits onto wolff in edelweiss about how he's stressed and confused and sort of wants a strand of a normal life again, and is just. so very clearly involved in this only because sherlock asked him to be, and how -- even when he CANNOT explain why -- he finds himself thrilled by it all and alive. and he does this only because wolff will forget almost immediately!!! and watson can act like nothing happened and he didn't say something absolutely devastating!!!!!

it's also why his standing up to mycroft for sherlock is also very tender. his comment of essentially, "i know you know him, i just wished you respected him". watson has no IDEA why the fuck he's following sherlock this far, but he respects him and his wishes, and cares for him enough to know when to help and when to step away, ("you asked me to intervene if i saw you cracking. this is me intervening!")

they are both so desperately trying to cling onto each other for this whole case, because they're BOTH damaged people trying to hold onto the only thing they each know to be true. they're each other's fail-safes, only going to stop if the other honestly -- sincerely -- wants to, but they won't!

it's also exactly why they manage to survive this ordeal together (not win; you don't win in a lovecraftian horror, you survive). they both are living in the past -- and would probably wallow there if allowed -- but the other brings them into the present and centers them on what's important.

[lafaiette]

Inspired by some posts going around, saying Rook should be able to flirt with Lavellan to make Solas super jealous 😂 (but also to help him stop being stupid and finally go back to her!)

There are nuanced spoilers from Veilguard, and my own idea regarding Rook and Solas' connection, since we still don't know how it works exactly.

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

"I have an idea."

Neve raised her eyes from the notes scattered on her desk, giving Rook a flat, unimpressed look. She knew, by know, that their ideas weren't always the best.

Sometimes, she feared the things their brain came up with.

"What kind of idea?" she asked, hoping it would be different this time, that they would surprise her, that this wouldn't be like that time they had sneaked upon Lucanis and almost got stabbed.

"I'm going to flirt with Lady Lavellan."

"Oh, goodness." Neve took a deep breath. So much for her hopes. "Well, you're going to die, I guess."

"Not for real!" Rook had the audacity to grin at her. "As a joke! Just to unnerve our Dread Wolf a little bit."

"Why would you do that?" Neve shook her head in disbelief. "Do you even hear yourself? If what Lace said is right, he could kill you in your sleep."

"Nah, he won't. We're almost friends at this point - and besides, he wouldn't risk ruining our mission."

"He would for Lady Lavellan."

"Come on!" Rook's grin came back, happy and excited. "I'm curious to see how he'd react! He's always so serious and grim, you know? But Varric said he was a completely different person when he was with the Inquisitor, and the rumours I heard..."

"He's in contact with you, is he not?" She tilted her head, studying their face. "Isn't he listening to this conversation right now?"

"Our connection is severed most of the time. There are moments when I can feel him being present, but they don't last long, and I always have to update him on our plans." Rook scratched their neck. "I have no idea how much he's able to glimpse from that prison he's stuck in, to be honest. It doesn't look like a great place to be in."

"It was a prison made specially for mad elven mages." Neve sighed, going back to the more pressing topic. "Seriously, Rook, this is a terrible idea."

"Hey, he deserves it! Haven't you seen how kind and gracious Lady Lavellan is? If anything, I'm going to help them get back together! Trust me, this will help them. I'm basically doing them a favour!"

"You're going to scare that poor woman." Neve glared at them, almost disappointed. "I won't let you be a creep."

"Oh, Neve, who do you take me for?" Rook was at the door, ready to leave, ready to start their diabolical plan. "I will be the perfect gentleman, just like Emmrich."

"He is a gentleman, while you're acting like a mischievous nug!"

Rook left with a booming laugh; Neve stared at the door, trying to squash her morbid curiosity under a sense of professionalism and dignity.

But a part of her was looking forward to the consequences of Rook's insane prank.

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

"Lady Lavellan." Rook smiled at the elven woman, Solas' presence like a burning itch in their brain, right behind their eyes. "You look stunning this morning."

They even bowed to her.

Davrin and Harding stared at them as if they had gone mad. Lady Lavellan blinked, eyes wide, then replied, as prim as ever:

"Thank you?"

"Should you need anything, please don't hesitate to call upon me. It shall be my honour to serve a wonderful, beautiful person such as yourself."

Davrin made a weird sound, a noise between a snort and a choking gasp. Harding covered her mouth with a hand.

Lady Lavellan's shock only grew - but her background as an important political figure was indeed evident, for she didn't let it colour her next words nor her reaction.

"Thank you, Rook. You're very kind."

She even smiled a little, even though she still looked a bit perplexed.

Rook grinned at her, then left. The burning, the presence inside their head, felt like a roaring inferno now.

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

"Here, my lady - I heard you like these particular berries. I made sure to buy some from you while I was in Treviso."

Rook filled her plate with sweet, red berries, and Lady Lavellan's face did light up, her eyes filled with wonder and joy.

"Oh, thank you! It's been so long since I ate these!"

"Only the best for you." Rook bowed their head at her, then turned to pass a jug of water to Lucanis, who was sitting next to them and had heard their exhange with the Inquisitor.

The Antivan Crow was looking at them, studying them, his lips slightly curled upward.

"Yes?" Rook grinned at him.

"Spite says you're going to die soon, my friend."

"Oh, Neve said the same thing!"

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

"Oh, Rook, here you are! Lady Lavellan and I were discussing some matters related to the Mourn Watch. Would you like to join us?"

"Of course, Emmrich." Rook accepted the cup of tea Manfred was diligently handing them, thanking him with a nod of their head. "I'd love to spend more time with you and our beautiful guest."

Emmrich almost choked on his tea. Lady Lavellan kindly offered him her handkerchief.

"Has someone ever painted you, my Lady?" Rook sipped the hot beverage without a care in the world, even raising their little finger. "I can't believe no one has. Such a gorgeous, dazzling smile should be preserved for eternity."

"Well, uh... Solas painted the frescoes in the rotunda at Skyhold. And..." She looked down, into her cup, suddenly quiet and timid. "He made some charcoal portraits of me."

Rook felt bad, guilt squeezing their heart. They hurried to improve the mood.

"Charcoal portraits are well and good, but your beauty and kindness should be painted on gilded vaults. Or perhaps sculpted, to fill the world with your grace!"

She snorted, the prelude to a giggle. When she left to check on Varric, Emmrich sighed and stared and stared, until Rook had to speak up.

"What?"

"My friend, why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you have a death wish. We could have talked about this sooner."

"I don't have a death wish!"

"I know these are hard, frightening times, but you must let death come to you, not the other way around. You have your whole life ahead of you!"

"Emmrich, really..."

"Why don't we start some therapy sessions? We do it all the time in the Mourn Watch - it's a very taxing job on the soul, after all."

"Therapy sess-"

"Manfred, my boy, be a dear and fetch me some ink and paper. Now, Rook, lie down and tell me when your suicidal intentions have first started..."

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

"Rook."

"Taash. Bellara."

"Oh, Rook." Bellara sniffed, pushing back tears. "It's been an honour."

"Wait, what? Are you two leaving?"

"No?" Taash frowned. "You are."

"And quite soon, I fear. The Dread Wolf isn't the merciful type." Bellara nodded sagely.

"Hey, hey, I'm not leaving! Solas and I are getting along swimmingly!"

"The only swimming you'll do will be in a neverending nightmare, my friend." Taash said, patting their shoulder. "Well. It's been fun."

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

"Goodnight, my Lady."

Rook kissed Lady Lavellan's right hand - no, not really. They didn't even touch it with their lips, not wanting to creep her out, and they knew the Dread Wolf would really smite them if they even dared think about touching her.

"Oh, uh... goodnight."

"Your beauty and brilliance eclipse the stars." Rook continued. "I can see now why both Ferelden and Orlais adored you so."

She watched them for a second, confused and embarrassed, then realization shone on her face, and a bright smile appeared on it.

In that moment, Rook knew she knew the real reasons behind their silly behaviour. She even looked happy, as if Rook had done something good.

"Goodnight, Rook." Her smile was amused, now. "Say hi to Solas for me, please."

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

Rook fell asleep, excitement and apprehension creating a churning cocktail in their stomach. Perhaps Emmrich was right; perhaps they really had a death wish. No sane person would ever tease the ancient elven god of rebellion by flirting with his beloved vhenan.

The prison was darker than usual. They could barely see their feet, and the ground felt shakier, almost crumbly, as if they were standing on sand.

Beneath them, endless darkness, a pit of shadows and oblivion.

"Solas...?"

Then they felt an overwhelming pressure, their head splitting in half, ash in their mouth. Rook groaned, gritting their teeth, and squeezing their eyes shut.

"Oi, cut it out!"

"Your beauty and brilliance eclipse the stars." Solas' cold voice echoed, reaching Rook from all directions; but they couldn't see him, couldn't find him, and the pressure on their head only increased.

"You should be sculpted, to fill the world with your grace."

"It's true! She's quite graceful!"

A growl, then suddenly the pillar of earth and sand on which Rook was standing trembled, and for a moment they truly feared Solas was about to cast them down.

They saw him, then: standing just a few paces away, fire in his eyes, his teeth gritted into a snarl, fists clenched. Poor fellow.

"You disgusting little...!"

He took a deep breath, but Rook could see the vein throbbing on his forehead. When next he spoke, Solas sounded only slightly calmer.

"Leave Lady Lavellan alone. She has no time for your inane words. You are embarrassing her."

"Are you sure? Because I think I saw the prettiest of blushes when I..."

The pillar trembled again, and Rook had to hold onto it to avoid falling down. When they raised their eyes, Solas was gone, and they heard his voice coming from behind.

Very close. Extremely close, so much they thought he was finally standing on their same level.

But they also felt something else, a huge presence, as tall as a mountain, where there should have been only a bald elf. They didn't turn, their instinct telling them they would see too many eyes, and fangs, too.

"Leave her alone." Solas' voice said, sounding the same as before, but also not, an undercurrent of fury and pain hidden beneath every word. "This will be my last warning."

"Fine, fine! I was just joking, and she knows that!"

A moment of silence, then: "... What?"

Rook laughed, the pressure behind their eyelids finally subduing.

"You're still deep in it, huh? Don't worry, she feels the same. Every time we talk about you, she gets this soft look on her face. Oh, and she says hi, by the way."

The huge presence also vanished, and when next Rook blinked, Solas was standing before them again. He looked surprised, but also curious, eager to hear more, hope and sorrow written all over his pale face.

"What, you really thought I was trying to hit on her? She's a great person, but she's not really my type. And I know she has eyes for you only... even though I can't understand why. No offense."

Solas looked away, sorrow winning over hope.

"I often wonder the same."

"Try not to be an ass once you're finally out of here, yes?" Rook grinned at him, feeling their consciousness return in the waking world. "She's been waiting for you."

This time, only hope shone on Solas' face, chasing away the shadows of pain.

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

Time later, at the apex of their fight against the Evanuris, Solas found himself finally free, walking the corridors and rooms of the Lighthouse as he had done millennia ago, ready to stand against his mortal enemies one more time.

Things were a bit strained between him and Rook's companions. There wasn't - there couldn't be - the same sort of camaraderie he had had with his companions of the Inquisition.

He apologized to Varric, of course. He could barely look him in the eye, so vast was his shame - but the kind dwarf waved off his apologies, an easy smile on his face. And Solas knew he had been forgiven, even though he could scarcely believe it.

And then there was Lavellan, his vhenan. She smiled at him whenever they met in the Lighthouse, or at dinner, eating at the same long table with everyone else.

At first, he tried to be distant, not wanting to hurt her, not sure she actually wanted to have anything to do with him, despite Rook's reassurances.

But then he couldn't stay away from her any longer. He kept looking at her, saw her stealing glances, too, and he finally decided to listen to his heart.

"Good morning." He greeted her one day, when he bumped into her while heading to a quick breakfast.

"Good morning." she replied in kind, her smile soft and luminous like a wisp of the Fade.

"I..." Solas cleared his throat, moving closer to her. He looked at everything but her - her prosthetic arm, the ground, the view from the windows - then he finally found the courage to lock eyes with her.

"You look beautiful, vhenan."

Her smile widened, and an adorable blush coloured her cheeks. Behind her, Scout Harding and Davrin let out a soft "aww".

"Thank you."

"There... There is a balcony overlooking the Fade behind those doors. Would you..." He cleared his throat again, feeling his own cheeks burn. "Would you like to have breakfast there? Together?"

"I'd love to."

Solas returned the smile, a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He offered her his arm, and she took it, letting him guide her.

They were so busy smiling, lost in each other, they didn't see Rook watching them from the railing just above their heads.

"Hah!" Rook shook their head, a fond grin on their face. "Knew it would work."

[wroetolando]

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔 | 𝙿𝙶𝟷𝟶

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: pierre gasly x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where you crash pierre’s press conference with a cheeky question—just to mess with him—and end up causing an F1-wide scandal about pierre being too distracted by hot drivers

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: you belong with me - taylor switft

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

1 | The Setup

Pierre Gasly hated press conferences.

He tolerated them, naturally. He knew that it was part of the deal—something every driver had to put up with—but that did not mean he had to like them. Not when they dragged on and on with the same predictable questions.

"What do you think of [rival driver]'s run today?"

"Did the strategy call ultimately work in your favor?"

Can you keep pace with the top teams next race?"

Blah, blah, blah.

It was always the same, and you knew it bored him to tears. Which is exactly why you'd decided to make this one a little more… fun.

In the rear row, undercover among the journalists, you twirled the media badge Pierre had reluctantly helped you get. He had no idea what you were up to. You were here for support to him—his gorgeous, innocent, completely well-behaved girlfriend, watching him work.

Pierre's eyes briefly flicked to you from the stage, where he was sitting between Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. You innocently smiled. He frowned suspiciously.

Yep, he had no question that you were up to something.

The press conference still droned on, and Pierre answered some dull questions regarding his performance. He was, as always, gracious, but you could sense the increasing irritation. His fingers tapped on the table, his foot tapped under the chair.

And that's when you saw your opportunity.

Your hand shot up. The moderator, not knowing your true agenda, nodded in your direction.

"Yes, you at the back."

Pierre jerked his head toward the sound of your voice, and as soon as his eyes located you, his entire body stiffened. You detected a silent plea in his ocean-blue eyes.

No. Don't. Whatever you're planning on doing, don't.

You grinned. Game on.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

2 | The Question Heard Around the Paddock

You cleared your throat, making a show of holding up your phone like a legitimate reporter. "Pierre, quick question."

Pierre took a sharp breath, clearly steeling himself. "Of course, mon amour—I mean, uh—yes, go on."

The reporters chuckled at the slip.

You couldn't help but feel the need to laugh. "So tell me," you said in your most professional voice, "how do you manage to keep your head on the track when you're around so many absolutely gorgeous drivers on a daily basis?"

Dead silence.

Max sprayed out his water. Charles turned bright red.

Pierre?

Pierre was glaring at you angrily.

You batted your eyelashes innocently.

The press room erupted. The walls rang with laughter. Cameras clicked crazily, and reporters madly typed out the viral sensation. The moderator looked utterly horrified, as if he had lost all control.

Pierre, still visibly shaken, coughed into his hand. "I—um—what?"

You pretended to sigh. "I mean, seriously, babe. It must be so difficult. All these attractive guys in tight-fitting race suits, walking around the paddock. Must be such a diversion."

Max was dying next to him, essentially doubled over with laughter. Charles had given up trying to keep a straight face.

Pierre pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every life decision that led to dating you.

"I don't—" he stuttered, attempting to come up with an answer.

"Oh, come on, Pierre," you teased. "Surely there's one person who makes it extra difficult to focus?"

The entire press room ooh'd. The reporters were eating this up.

Max leaned forward, grinning. "Yeah, Pierre, dish. Who's the most distracting?"

Pierre shot him a death glare.

You pressed on. "Is it Charles? It's Charles, isn't it?"

Charles' eyes went wide. "Excuse me?!"

The room was shrieking.

Pierre sighed, shaking his head. "Mon amour, I love you, but you are insufferable."

You blew him a kiss.

The moderator, still looking like he had aged ten years, cleared his throat gruffly. "Alright, moving on—"

But it was far from over.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

3 | The Fallout

By the time the press conference ended, social media was ablaze.

Clips of Pierre's priceless face were already circulating under hashtags like:

PierreIsDistracted #GaslyGate #CharlesIsTheProblem

The paddock buzzed. Drivers teased Pierre mercilessly. Even Christian Horner made a joke about it live on TV.

But the absolute mayhem?

The F1 journalists.

"Pierre, is it true you can't focus on track because of your rivals?"

"Charles, do you have any comment on being voted 'most distracting'?"

"Pierre, have you and Y/N talked about how this affects your relationship?

Pierre was fuming. Not at you—oh no, he worshipped you—but at the fact that the FIA now had to "investigate" his concentration levels.

"It was one joke!" he muttered that night in your hotel room. "One joke and now the entire world believes I can't drive because I'm too busy staring at Charles Leclerc's dumb face!"

You were lying on the bed, scrolling through your phone. "I mean, Charles is so good-looking.".

Pierre moaned dramatically, falling onto the bed beside you.

You laughed, rolling over to face him. "Admit it. It was funny."

Pierre rolled his head, his gaze meeting yours. His expression was impassive. "You," he said slowly, "are the biggest danger to my career."

You gasped. "You love me."

He smiled, pulling you on top of him. "Unfortunately, I do."

You smiled, kissing his cheek. "I'll make it up to you."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

You leaned forward, lips brushing against his. "Well, if I'm so distracting, I might as well make it worth your while."

Pierre groaned. "Mon amour, you are going to be the death of me."

You smiled. "And yet, you'd have it no other way."

And he wouldn't.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

A week later, the FIA released an official statement:

"Following an investigation into Pierre Gasly's recent press conference comments, we have found no evidence that his concentration capacity has been compromised by the attractiveness of other drivers."

Pierre forwarded the release to you with a single text:

"Are you happy now?"

You responded with a selfie of yourself dying laughing.

"You're welcome, love."

Pierre never took you to a press conference again.

But he never loved you less for it of course.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[lunadileo]

🌸 Astrology Notes 🌸

Spring and Valentine's Day are coming and I’m inspired to start posting more again! 🩷

🩰 Taurus IC/Taurus in 4H loves to decorate their house with beautiful and expensive things, they love to live in comfort and pleasure. They always have a good taste in art and music which helps them elevate the quality of their life. Such individuals take care and provide for their loved ones as family is the greatest value for them. Their emotional well-being and inner sense of security may depend on their financial situation. These individuals are able to express motherly love, deepest care and compassion, gentleness and patience toward themselves and others. Their priority is peace of mind and harmony both inside and in their life. 🍧 Libra in 5H is always inspired by love, being naturally talented and charming when it comes to connections with other people, be it romantic or platonic. They are diplomatic people and strive to have balance in their relationships. Such individuals are very creative, harmonious and enjoy team work, cooperation and being part of projects that involve many people. They are refined, elegant and cultured, showing big interest and knowledge in art, literature and music. 💕 Moon in 7H naturally desire to have close emotional bonds and connections with others, they enjoy doing things in a group of friends or with their significant other and don't like being alone. They require emotional support, security and protection from their loved ones and love spending time with them, like watching a romantic movie, walking in the park or going to an art gallery together. Such individuals are sensitive, romantic and caring. 🦩 Jupiter in 9H is naturally optimistic and has an unshakable faith in life. They love to focus on planning to reach new goals, travel to new places, try a new cuisine or learn a new language. Such individuals are drawn to philosophy and love to explore and broaden their horizons. They are also financially abundant and lucky. 🪷 Cancer in 6H is very intuitive and emotional, possessing nurturing qualities which gives them the ability to be a natural caregiver. They can sometimes be shy and even a bit insecure that's why having a calm and peaceful environment gives them a feeling of security and comfort. In their daily activities and career, they prioritise self-care, emotional fulfillment and a healthy routine. 🛍️ Sun in 2H is very talented when it comes to the material side of life and financial possessions. They are sensual and intuitive, prioritising their inner sense of security and living in comfort. Such individuals love spoiling themselves by going shopping, buying a new perfume or jewellery, which makes them feel better and raises their mood. They are usually born in influential or wealthy families and it's important for them to dress well, smell good and present themselves spick and span when they go out into the world. 💌 Taurus in 3H is intelligent and determined, they take their time to think and reflect. They are very acute and precise in expressing their ideas and opinion. Such individuals are interested in having a good reputation, being a professional in their favourite subjects and making good money using their wit and brains. They like to read books about self-development, road to success, becoming wealthy and similar topics. 👛 Venus in 1H is incredibly attractive and people want to be around them, admiring their beauty and charm. They have great manners, refined taste in clothes, jewellery and perfumery. Such individuals are well-liked and popular, gracious and elegant. Others love to spoil them and to give them compliments. They are warm, affectionate and friendly people, possessing excellent social skills and talent in acting, singing or modelling. 💝 Leo in 11H is always in the spotlight, having a sizeable group of friends which admire and support them. They love to spoil their friends with attention, encouragement and expensive gifts. Such individuals love to take the initiative and invite their friends to go shopping, attend a concert of their favourite singer, travel to a new country together or have a home party with popcorn and a movie night.

© 2024 Credits to my blog @lunadileo ღ

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Well, it has been a day, has it not?” Pine frightens you as he emerges. You pop your head up, your vision squiggly with the imprint of a spreadsheet. 

“Sir,” you straighten up to see him past the monitor. 

“Hmm, and when do you let out, darling? Surely Nicolas wouldn’t have you pent up on a Saturday such as this?” He makes a show of checking his watch. You give a sheepish smile and run your thumb along the space bar. 

“Soon.” 

“I’m sure.” His tone is unimpressed. “I did say I owed you for the tea.” 

“Oh, that’s--” 

“I do like to follow through and I must admit, aside from our mutual acquaintance, I am not very familiar with this city. I would not complain for company.” He twists on his heel and struts to Fowler’s office door. The knock has you strangled in the fraught silence that follows. 

Pine sighs and leans on the door frame. He clucks impatiently and raises his hand again. You sink down to hide behind the screen. 

“Jonathan,” Fowler greets. 

“Hello, I was just packing up for the day and I noticed your lovely assistant is still hard at work.” Pine intones 

“How observant,” Fowler snorts. 

“Well, I think she’s due for her release and since I’ve promised her recompense--” 

“Recompense?” 

“Ah, yes, she has been a gracious host. You may learn a thing or two.” Pine’s chuckle sets you on edge. Even behind the shield of the computer you feel your boss’ roiling irritation. 

“I forgot about you sort and your pints.” Fowler spits the last word. 

“If she is so inclined, a pint is in order, but she does seem to be more of a sophisticated type, though perhaps not so much as you and your vintages, eh?” 

Fowler huffs. “I thought you came for work.” 

“What is work without fun? Let the poor thing go. On my honour, I’ll keep it on the up and up,” Pine insists. 

Silence. “Elf, didn’t I promise you a work dinner? For all your hard work, of course?” 

You’re happy neither of them can see the surprise rippled in your forehead. You wipe it away quickly and peek up above the monitor frame. You force a smile. Fowler’s icy blue eyes chill you to the bone as Pine turns with a coy crook of his brow. 

“I think... yes. Um, but, er...” 

“Least I can do,” Fowler smirks. “I’d hate to be rude. You don’t mind if my colleague joins us? He is new in town and all?” He looks at Pine who returns his challenging glint. For a moment, they stare at one another. 

“I should hate to presume...” Pine says. 

“It’s okay,” you say a bit to quickly for your brain to process. You bite down on a cringe and clear your throat, “but if you’d rather catch up, we can do it another time.” 

“Sounds like a plan. My treat.” Fowler insists with a defiant tilt of his chin. 

“Right, okay.” You sit back as he retreats into his office and Pine hums. You click around on your screen as you try to figure out what just happened. You’d rather just go home but it would be rude to say so. 

As you double-check the autosave, Pine’s shadow comes to loom from the other side of the desk. You glance up with a sheepish smile as you sign-out and push your chair back. You bend to grab your purse from under the desk. 

“Your boss has ever been a rather stormy man, hm? Though you’d have laughed to see him on my side of the pond. He mightn’t admit it but he was rather fond of a pint or two. Perhaps a bit too fond. It may just be the reason for his recent aversion.” Pine laughs and you do your best to humour him. 

“I don’t really drink beer. Makes me feel bloated but I have some drinks now and again. Last night, I had some with a few friends. Nothing wild but it was nice.” 

“And he made you come in today?” He tuts. “How cruel. Well, never worry, I shall endeavour to make our own working relationship less than burdensome.” 

“It’s work. Really.”  

You leave him to turn off the printer room lights and as you come back, he leans on your desk. He watches you with his soft blue eyes. “Old friends?” 

“Some of them. We... we work in the same field.” 

“PI work?” He wonders. 

“Oh, no. We—we’re all personal assistants or secretaries or whatever. Couple of us met in college, others at work, a few randomly. Guess we just ended up together.” You come around the desk and seal your lips against a yawn that flutters your lashes. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Fowler snaps his office door behind him as he marches out. “Remember that steakhouse I mentioned, Elf?” 

Nope. You don’t think he’s ever talked about a steakhouse or anything fun with you. If you didn’t bring him most of his meals, you might think he doesn’t eat at all. He is inhuman enough that he might subsist on resent alone. 

“Uh, I think so,” you lie. 

“You’ll like it. Wagyu is their seasonal special.” He surpasses Pine and ushers you to the door. As he opens it ahead of you, you hesitate. It’s strange. He’s being... nice? You step outside and Pine trails, thanking Fowler as he does. 

“Wagyu?” Pine puts his hand to your lower back as he turns you down the sidewalk. “I’m more inclined to a nice filet or beef wellington.” 

“This way,” Fowler catches your arm and pulls you around. Pine scuffs and turns back to follow once more. “It’s close. Don’t even need to drive.” 

“Mm, ever the man with all the secrets, eh?” Pine comes up on your other side.  

Fowler keeps his grip on your arm. He seems to recall himself and unclamps his fingers, only to hook his arm through yours. You let him as you walk stiffly down the street. What the heck is going on? 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Fowler tosses back. He is met with another airy chuckle from the taller man. 

“So long as they have good drinks, eh, Elfie? It might be a good place for girls’ night,” Pine brushes your shoulder gently. 

Fowler looks over, a terse slant in his jaw, then sets his sights straight. “I don’t know, the vintage might be a bit too much for an Englishman’s taste.”