#chapter 1 spoiler alert at the bottom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charles-leclerizz · 11 months ago

Text

TRAILER : THE BEGINING

🏁 Content warnings : Swearing.

🏁 Spoiler alert : Please read the masterlist, Character sketch and Team sketch to understand.

🏁 Genre : Drama, Action, Sports

🏁 Reading time : 15 minutes, 6 seconds

🏁 Word count : 3.0.k (3021 words)

🏁 Chapter summary : It all begins now.

🏁 Author's note : So, this is it, welcome to the beginning of this wild ride. Just wanted to explain a few things [so skip this right now if you're not really interested, no hard feelings !] Now, this format is probably confusing, basically the first part of this is the trailer, how it would look on Netflix, the actual video/film. And the writing after the banner, Behind the Scenes, is literally behind the scenes, what isn't shown on camera. Second, this whole series is meant to be very dramatic, it's entertainment made by "Netflix" [not really, please don't sue me] for God sake. With all that said, Enjoy!

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

[Please play this song whilst reading the trailer & feel free to stop once we get behind the scenes with the drivers !]

The screen fades from black to show a Porsche F1 car skidding down the track, the sound of screeching rubber against the tarmac harmonises with the energetic music that pumps behind the video.

Circular shots of a driver climbing out of the car from different angles flash across, and just before they tug off their helmet the scene changes to the paddock, pit crew, mechanics and drivers rush past in a blur, their differently coloured uniforms merge together like lights in a city scape. Suddenly, everything stops and the music fades away momentarily.

“In the fast-paced world of formula 1,”

Scenes of driving legends hoisting up their trophies with happy grins and champagne soaked racing gear flash past. Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, Kimi Räikkönen.

“Where every second counts and emotions run high.”

The grating sounds of cars speeding past bursts into the frame, Max Verstappen shaking his fists ambitiously as he wins, yet another grand prix, Charles Leclerc as he wins in Spa and Monza, Carlos sainz and Lando Norris partnering up in the Singapore 2023- “Yeah, it’s on purpose.” The Spaniard grits out just as the narrator begins to speak again.

“Our team is about to redefine the game,”

The narrator is revealed, a woman, tall and proud as she sits in front of a grey backdrop. Her blonde hair is cut to a sharp bob and her glasses, astute and black sit high on her nose as she laughs jauntily and arches a well-managed, bleached brow at one of the three camera’s recording her, “Is that good?” she huffs out, thick Manchester accent shining through her cheerful words.

Black takes over once again, and the Indian flag, flapping in the wind from a tall pole that reaches high into the sky is shown, the bright, proud colours shining against the pale, blue sky. The camera pans down to the bottom of the ground, where the same driver,who was emerging from the car in the begging is looking up, at their flag.

But instead of their helmet securely fastened around their face, it’s held between the crook of their elbow and waist. The white base is glossy as multiple sponsor logos are littered around the entire frame, along with the black, bold letters “PATEL” being showed off at the back, currently visible to the camera along with the behind of the driver’s racing suit.

The shot pans up, revealing long flowing hair, black thick strands a contrast to her off white racing suit. The same flag peeks out from between the chunks of her fluttering locks, large and proud on the expanse of her back. The driver begins to turn and just as her red painted lips come into view the scene changes and a different narrator begins to speak again.

“From the makers of 'Drive to Survive' comes a new Netflix Original Series that takes you behind the scenes of the most exhilarating sport on the planet.”

Scenes of the woman running across the paddock and into her garage, her teammate not far behind overlay the announcement.

Another moment is revealed, this time of her ducking into her car, glove covered hands braced on the halo as her face turns upwards towards a racing engineer who speaks to her. She nods before turning to look directly into the camera and lowering herself into the cockpit.

The woman begins to speak again, "Aisha is our trailblazer in Formula 1.”

The iconic lights of Formula one begins to count down as the mechanical ticking echo throughout the grand-stands and the camera goes to shoot the anticipatory lull in the air as spectators hold their breath whilst the engines start up and the last light dims.

“She’s smashing stereotypes and racing towards victory.” The team principal shakes her head, a soft, proud smile playing on her light pink lips.

The team car revs menacingly as the gaggle of drivers manoeuvre their way through turn one of Bahrain.

The Porsche chassis glows between the unmanageable scuffle of the other 18 cars on the track, as both team racers attempt to come out on top in the dangerous pile of engines, the expectant victor of the throng doesn’t appear, the deep blue red bull is yet to emerge. The crowd gasps and cheers as the true victor begins to approach the next turn, speeding down the straight.

The camera catches the proud logo on the side of the car, “Porsche” and on the back, as the DRS begins to activate, the opened flap reveals, “Patel”.

“I just hope people are ready to see her in action. Because she isn’t stopping anytime soon" She stares into the camera as her name appears on screen, a small box enveloping the words, “Katherine Anderson, Porsche team principal.”

Finally, the rumoured driver comes into the scene, walking up to the stool as the camera drags up her slack clad legs, the cream material swishes by her ankles along with the golden payaal that jingles with each step of her stiletto heels against the floor. Her torso is revealed slowly, a tight top hugs her bust whilst the printed Porsche logo morphs against the curves of her chest. The varied tennis barcelets and charmed jewellery around her wrist titillate together as she takes a seat on the chair, and her face is revealed.

She squints her eyes and brings a manicured hand up to push away the straightened hair from her lips, her mouth purses as the unintelligible voice of the producer talks to her, whilst her eyelashes flutter and she hums in agreement.

“So, I just talk?” She asks, pointing a finger at the camera that faces her before blotting the lipstick on her lips. She nods once as the cameraman confirms.

“My name,” She tilts her head as she smiles, perfect, white teeth shining underneath the light, “Is Aisha Patel, and I drive for Porsche F1 Team.”

The camera cuts again, showcasing Aisha on the podium, pushing a large trophy up into the air as her teammate, Pierre cheers and sprays champagne on her stomach from his place on the “2nd” platform. She shakes her head and laughs as her entire head becomes soaked with the bubbly, sweet drink. Multiple identical shots are placed one after the other, of her standing proud and sweaty on the 1st place podium.

“I’ve worked my ass off,” Aisha’s voice over-runs the music, “And I’ll be damned if anything stands in my way.”

She squares her shoulders as she unzips her racing suits and bunches it up at her waist as she stomps over to Max Verstappen, the Dutch man looking equally malicious as his blue eyes roll with annoyance and already red face puffs out intimidatingly.

She pokes a finger into his fire-proof covered chest as she begins to shout, ignoring the worried stares of the crew around her in the Red-Bull garage. Max spits out the long, twirling straw from between his lips and begins to argue back.

Her mouth moves angrily as she goes to snatch the can of branded drink from his tense hands, throwing the sugary drink in his face, thoroughly dousing the shouting man and reducing him to a spluttering mess as she stomps away, flipping off one of the camera’s that eagerly follows her.

The narrator returns, his deep timbre rumbling through the video, “But the road to victory is never easy, as Aisha navigates through rivalries, scandals, and the pressure to perform.”

The scene switches to Aisha rushing out of a hotel in England, the night before Silverstone and the odd, overwhelming flashes of hounding reporters seem to be tuned out of her gaze as Lando runs behind her, grabbing helplessly at her hand whilst tears stream down her flushed face.

Her hair is mused and makeup runs haphazardly across her tan skin, she wretches her wrist out of the man’s grip, shaking her head as her lip wobbles. She covers her eyes before dodging and weaving through the paparazzi, barely able to mumble polite, “excuse me’s” from between erratic sobs, as she unlocks her expensive car and slips into the driver’s seat.

The second shot is of her and Carlos, hand in hand as her shoulders begin to shiver in his hold whilst she adjusts the heavy cardigan that hangs limp from her shoulders. The Spaniard’s face is tough and rocky as his hands comes to embrace her upper arm, cradling her against his side whilst the rest of the drivers begin to flee the racetrack, already tired from the latest qualifying session.

Yet, the papparizzi continue to hound the pair mercilessly, Aisha hides her face as the man beside her stops his firm footsteps and turns to a reporter from a less respectable news channel, the sleezy jounarlist gulps but stands his ground as he pushes his microphone forward. Carlos glances down at the tech with disgust, and just before he opens his mouth, the scene ends, and we’re taken back to Aisha who sits contently in the interview.

“In this world, you must fight for every inch. And I'm ready to fight, no matter the cost.” She smirks at another camera, her side profile showing off noticeable details over the expanse of her face like the sharp cut of her nose and the splattering of freckles across her cheekbones along with the odd beauty marks spotted above her lip and a few inches from her nose.

The final shot is off Aisha climbing out of the Porsche car, removing her helmet, allowing her hair to flow over her shoulder and down her back as she tilts her head at the camera and leans back against the pale white halo of her car.

She then crooks her finger at the viewers, gesturing for the cameraman to follow her hand as she holds up a singular finger, and points upwards towards the sky.

The shot is then of the of the expansive indiago above, and through the magic of editing, the Porsche logo takes up the screen.

“Get ready to experience the thrill, the passion, and the drama of Formula 1 like never before.” The narrator ends his sentence powerfully as the crescendo of the song reaches its peak.

“This is 'Formula for Love'.” Aisha ends the trailer, waving at the camera before the video is overtaken with black once again.

The title card appears, “Formula for love – A netflix original series”.

As the words disappear, a shot of Aisha’s car speeding off into the distance after which a mechanical, “Streaming soon, only on Netflix.” ends the trailer.

Aisha sighed, tapping her thighs as the filming concluded and many on-set employees rushed to her side, patting at her face along with offering her a can of thumbs up, the condensation runs down the metallic container and onto her fingers.

“Thank you, guys so much,” Aisha sipped at the straw protruding from the can in her hand before smiling at the people who merely stared at her, already putting away their various tools. A compact snapped shut, a damp towel thrown over a shoulder and a camera cover flipped closed.

Aisha sucked in a breath, flicking her eyes over the workers before looking over at Kate, who was signing a paper handed to her on a writing board.

She chuckled at Aisha’s worried expression and the silence that hung in the air, “It’s okay,” she assured the driver, who looked relieved as the people recovered and retreated away from the filming set, going back to their stations.

“They aren’t very used to people thanking them.” Kate shrugged, “They reacted like that to me as well,”

“Oh, thank God,” She patted her chest as she waved at the director, who smiled back and showed her a happy thumbs up, “This is all so new to me.” Aisha tugged at her hair as Kate pulled up her phone and scrolled through her calendar.

“Don’t worry too much about its Aisha, you’ll get there.” She rubbed the nervous driver’s arm and hissed when her phone vibrated, “I have to go, so much to get done before our first season,” Kate shook her head, wishing Aisha goodbye as she walked out of the trailer and out towards their still concealed garage.

Aisha hummed distractedly, before realising she had no idea what to do once Kate had walked away, “Wait!” But the team principal had already left, “Damn it,” She bit her nail once, handing off her empty can and plucking out her phone from her pocket.

“Oh, there you are.” A media manager bounded up to Aisha, surprising the woman as she jumped and whipped her head around to the approaching worker, “The driver’s briefing is about to begin,”

The man waved a hand at his face before pinching his Porsche x Adidas apparel between his fingers and forcing air between the material and his chest. He was likely middle aged, and sported dark brown hair with peppery roots and salted strands that peeked out from between the chocolatey curls.

He showed her his F1 team ID and stopped fanning himself to usher her with his hand.

“Shit- okay,” Aisha stuffed her phone away, following him out of Netflix filming trailer, out to the dark murky sky above the paddock, towards another building.

The office was tall and white, covered with floor to ceiling windows that were shielded with a layer of reflective film, “Oh God.” Aisha murmured beneath her breath as she took a few calming breaths, already forgetting to trail behind the man who was staring at her impatiently whilst holding the door open, watching as she stared at the building by straining her neck upwards.

She prepared herself, flapping her hands around slightly and jolting when the manager cleared his throat.

“Please hurry Miss. Patel. It won’t look good if you’re late.”

“I know, I know.” Aisha repeated, assuring the increasingly nervous man who walked up to her.

“It will be okay,” He laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, taking an exemplary deep breath for her to copy. He continued when she did, “I’m Harry, sorry for not introducing myself, and I will be in charge of all media at Porsche.”

“Okay?” Aisha shook her head a few times to clear her mind, “Meaning?”

Harry chuckled and hung his head, “Meaning. That I’ll be with you in there. You won’t be alone.” He pointed a finger at himself, “See, you already have a familiar face to look for,” His slightly aged face wrinkled happily when Aisha smiled at him and relaxed visibly beneath his comforting hold.

“Thank you, Harry,” She huffed and stood straighter, “Let’s do this.”

Her heels clicked beneath her confident steps as she thanked the man who held the door open for her and Harry, who walked contently behind her.

Aisha craned her head around the bend, following the acrylic signs that read, “Driver briefing – Conference room 1.” She adjusted her shirt, feeling, for the first time in forever, conscience of her clothing and slipped a thumb beneath the waistband of her slacks to adjust them slightly.

“Let’s do this,” She pushed at the milky white door, steeling her face with a bored, neutral expression just as her name was called out, most likely for rollcall.

But, Aisha stopped in her tracks, the door barely nudged open when a flurry of deep chuckles and whispers erupted at the sound of her name.

“Seriously? Is this what fans are doing now?” The speaker rolled his “r’s” whilst shaking his head.

“How much do you think that cost them?” An oddly familiar British voice mumbled whilst crossing his arms and nudging the man next to him.

And one of them groaned and slapped his thigh once, complaining about “-needing better media stunts.”

Aisha scoffed quietly, so these were some of her heroes? Assuming that a woman could never possibly be selected to race, instead she was an obsessive fan who had shrines for each of the men stashed in her closet?

She pushed open the door, causing a few drivers to rustle and shift in their seats and turn minutely towards the sound of the door hinges, opening and closing.

Aisha walked forward and planted a hand on her hip, leaning onto one leg as each of the men looked towards her with annoyed expressions.

“I’m sorry, fans aren’t allowed here.” A French man, dressed in glaring red began to stand up, nodding discreetly at the security men flanked at either side of the doors- who glanced at each other hesitantly and barely moved at his guidance, obviously recognising her, “How did you even get in?”

“Ridiculous what they’ll do for an autograph,” Another one stood, and stared at her thunderously, his Dutch accent causing him to lisp his angry words, “All right, time to go.” He was the first to directly address the security, “Guys, get her out.”

Aisha held up her hand, between her fingers a prestigious card stood proud, the F1 logo bedazzled in gold foil, shimmered beneath the yellow lights, she glanced over her shoulder at the burly, guards who relaxed at her identification.

“Aisha Patel?” She looked to the FIA officer who stared at her, amused with her entrance before ticking off her name, “Porsche F1 driver.” She announced her title, smirking with slight arrogance at the gob-smacked expression on both the French and Dutch men, both of whom flushed an embarrassed red and muttered apologies whilst returning to their seats, next to both of their teammates.

“I’m here for the briefing?” Aisha prompted the officer, before smiling at the rest of her fellow drivers, most of them attempting to suppress their cackles at the other two’s mistake.

“Yes, of course Miss Patel,” The man greeted her, gesturing to an empty seat next to Pierre who smirked at Aisha.

She began to walk down the walkway between the sets of chairs filled by F1 team personnel and racers, waving at a few of the managers from other teams who knew of her position and staring darkly at some drivers who looked her up and down with curiosity.

“Sorry for being late, I was busy paying of my debt. Do you know how much it costs to get your name on the register?” She leaned forward on her crossed knees, looking down the row with a sarcastic expression. The ones who did dare to meet her eyes mumbled in agreement and slumped against their seats.

“Fuck-“The driver who made the comment doubled over, hiding his freckle covered face in his hands, causing his bright orange athleisure jacket to stretch prompting his teammate to chuckle whilst patting his back.

honourary tags [for special pookies] : @disneyprincemuke, @weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam

A/N : And that's that, the first ever episode [trailer really] of this series is done and dusted. As always please show some love to this tinker-bell minded writer and remember to comment and reblog <33

126 notes · View notes

treviso-nights · 1 month ago

Text

how art thou fallen from heaven - solrook / chapter 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

fic summary: when rook first ends up in the regret-prison with solas after a nightmare, he taunts her, and she responds in kind. one way or another, solas is going to realize: varric chose rook to stop him for a reason. what he isn't prepared for is how his enemy makes him feel. has the dread wolf finally found someone to abandon his plight for? (spoiler alert: the answer is no.) a true enemies to lovers tale. word count: 2.2k chapter summary: rook and solas have another verbal sparring match. however, when solas offers unexpected guidance, rook finally realizes there very well may be someone worth listening to underneath the dread wolf's mask. read chapter 1 read on AO3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The second time Rook has the nightmare, Solas is there, waiting in his prison as usual.

Exhales rip through her like a whirlwind, and Rook, far more aware of his presence this time, swallows the rest of it down, where it can dissemble and die in her chest like the nonsense it is.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rook gripes, tearing a hand through her long, loose curls. The lilac in them, so muted by the austerity of the prison’s atmosphere, resembles a curtain of bloodless vines weaving together and then apart again, dancing violently where her fingertips cleave through the waves.

Solas gazes at her impassively, both hands already pressed behind his back. “Hello to you, too.”

“Creators,” she chokes out, laughing. “At this point, I should just move in with you.”

Solas ignores her, eyes tracking the shakiness of her next inhale, the sweat coating her neck and collar bones. “I take it you had another nightmare? Based on the terror I sensed from our magical bond, that is.”

As her breaths slow to a normal cadence, Rook takes the moment to observe the spatial rift in between her and the Dread Wolf. She isn’t certain if the shadows near the bottom are a mirage or the tangible outline of bedrock—or some other rubble. According to Neve, Bellara, and Emmrich, rules governing physicality within the Fade are malleable at best and downright malicious at worst. Depending on who the Fade is mirroring.

Still. The idea is largely tempting.

“If I throw myself into that chasm, will it spirit me away from you again?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “No pun intended, naturally.”

There is the distinct sensation that the chasm below smiles along with Solas, the quiet hunger in the gesture a small dart to the belly. “It’s hard to say,” he replies. “It’s more likely that you would awake in the Lighthouse, your conscious mind shattered from the death it would face here.”

Well, damn.

“By all means, jump,” he adds, motioning to the crevasse. And though the lilt in his voice remains steady and musical, the darkness of the words permeates the air around her.

“Creators, I might. If only to escape the depths of your endless superiority. Who knows? It might be contagious, like a virus. Or a fever. Or flesh-eating necrosis.”

The subsequent scrunch of his nose tips Rook off—she annoys him. Good! The realization makes her smile, lips pulling up at the corners. No teeth. Yet.

The next exhale from Solas is a sigh, and for the first time since their unfortunate introduction, he folds his arms across his chest.

A typically defensive signal.

Now, there’s a bit of honesty.

“You’re quite… unpleasant, aren’t you?” he chides.

Years of Crow training prompts Rook to further scrutinize every shift in posture, expression, and tone of voice. There might be a chasm separating them from each other, but she still doesn’t know if Solas is able to cast magic in this prison. Asking him about it would only give him leverage—the knowledge that she remains perfectly ready to either flee or fight.

For now, it seems that they continue to be at an impasse.

“I’m an extremely pleasant person!” she chirps back, mirroring his posture. A mild breeze scatters her hair about her face. “In fact, I even started a book club at the Lighthouse.”

At this, Solas quirks an eyebrow, the violet in his gaze glinting. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

She can’t help but smile again. Usually, Rook is a well-practiced liar, but there’s something about Solas that supersedes this instinct to deceive. Instead, Rook finds that she wants to mock him. Incessantly. Forever, if she can.

“You’re right,” Rook admits. “I didn’t start the club. Bellara, our eluvian expert, did. But I attend all of the meetings, so… close enough, right?”

The prison’s subsequent silence punctuates Solas’s disapproval. “This is what you prioritize when the Evanuris work to destroy and enslave the entire world?”

“Oh, pipe down.” A dimple begins to peek out from one cheek. “The eluvians may have revolutionized how we travel from place to place, but you know as well as I—logistics take time. We’re only as strong and as swift as our allies.”

At first, the expression on his face is tight, twisting his angular features with objection.

When several heartbeats pass, they smooth a bit, eventually leveling out into the Dread Wolf’s regular affect. Polite. Curious. Patient.

“Indeed, as I am captive here for the foreseeable future, I have no choice but to support your endeavors and hope that your… book club does not detract from the efficacy of your actions.”

Captive. The word does not escape Rook’s attention, nor the intention behind it. Of course the Dread Wolf would think he’s captive, as if he isn’t the victim of his own arrogant machinations. Rook stows this observation away. After all, an assassin must approach every interaction like they would a mark awaiting enticement: meticulously, taking painstaking measures to end up with your back against the wall. It is imperative that the seduced feel powerful boxing you in. Those inebriated by the sensation of conquest are rarely if ever careful, and nothing excites a hungry wolf more than their prey immobilized and trapped within jaws’ reach.

Rook throws Solas a wink, the dark curtain of her lashes fluttering against a freckled cheekbone. “If you have a book recommendation, Dread Wolf, I can always be the liaison between here and the Lighthouse.” She then places a calloused hand over her heart.

“Besides, to my great and absolute misfortunate, it seems that the nightmares are further attuning my subconscious mind to the blood magic. I’m sure you’ll see me soon enough.”

The smirk on her face dampens.

“Probably far sooner than you’d wish.”

Inclining his chin, Solas at last releases the arms from his chest. “Indeed. You seem to be haunted by the echoes of your memories.” His lips tug at the corners. “A quality we both share. As long as the nightmares persist, you should expect to return here often.”

Frustration ripples along her veins, but she manages to freeze the smile on her face. “I’m so looking forward to it. You know how much I enjoy our conversations.”

Rook almost misses the slackening of his expression, distracted by the idea of having so little control over her own mind. She should be better than this. Another Crow would be better at this. She wants to yell, the urge rising up in her throat.

There isn’t any kind of training which would adequately address the circumstances. Mastery over the subconscious is one thing—fledgelings complete a myriad of exercises to better understand and gain proficiency over hidden impulses. The Crows even offer instruction on how to counteract blood magic using herbs, charms, and preemptive measures.

But a blood magic connection? While sleeping?

“Mugwort.” And it is his voice that snaps Rook out of her self-reproach. Finding purchase within his amethyst eyes, she listens with full attention to his next reply.

“For nightmares,” he clarifies. “Or chamomile, lavender, and sweet hops. Many will dry the flowers in satchels and hang them by their bed. I would personally suggest brewing them in tea, however.”

The absence of anything sharp and hard within her is a sudden scream tumbling into the dark abyss between them.

Rook nods, sucking the inside of one cheek. “I’m already familiar with those. Crow training. To be honest, I’m not sure why they’d work now. They haven't before.”

Solas’s furrowed brow reveals his curiosity.

She sighs and lowers her gaze, preferring to fix it on the pebbly ruins beneath her feet. “This is an ‘echo’ that has lingered for quite some time,” Rook elaborates.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, Rook nods again, swallowing. Lilac curls caress the sides of her face and neck.

“Well. Thanks for the verbal sparring match!” she huffs. “And thanks for trying to help, I guess—”

“Lyrium.”

“What?”

Solas’s voice is suddenly soft and confident, and it is eerily similar to how the morning’s rays slowly, carefully, warm the landscape below.

“Have one of your companions brew the tea for you. A mage. Adding small amounts of lyrium while the tea steeps is a good way to block nightmares, as lyrium enhances the flowers’ properties. Because you are not a mage, you will not be lucid and in control while you dream. Your dreams will also be somewhat more vivid, so it is something to consider beforehand. However, the nightmares will stop.” The serene expression on his face relaxes even further.

Rook doesn’t know what to do with this. Can he see her confusion? Can he feel her heart sink into her gut? Her curls, also unmoored, twist wildly in the prison’s breeze, dancing over her eyes.

She does not brush them away.

“Why help me now? With this?”

“It is the practical thing to do,” Solas answers, lips curving. “You are the last bastion against Elgar’nan and Ghillan’nain, after all.”

Rook’s reciprocal smile mirrors the strange, amicable energy the two of them somehow manage to create. “Someone has to be.”

“Indeed.” And though his smile remains, a slight tightness at the corners of his eyes relays a new emotion she can’t quite place. “And, Rook? I am not the monster you wish me to be. I find no comfort in your suffering.”

That… isn’t what she expects.

And Rook is not sure she believes him.

Still. It would be a nice sentiment if he did mean it.

“Come on. Be honest,” she teases. “Not even a little bit?”

At this, Solas grins, the gesture so unexpected and shocking that Rook fights the urge to physically step back.

Because it is not the grin of a predator.

“Perhaps, at times,” he chuckles. Curiously, this particular gesture fades much faster than the smile, leaving a distinct, strange sorrow in his visage. “Certainly not, however, when it concerns memories of a time better off forgotten. That is a pain I do not wish upon many.”

Rook frowns. “No. I don’t want to forget these memories. I can’t afford to.”

“Why not?”

Her reply comes swiftly. Easily. She thinks nothing of it. “They make me who I am.”

However, the desire to step back, to retreat, surges again, when astonishment tumbles across his features, revealing a very blank, very vulnerable expression beneath his favored mask of benevolence and civility.

For a few horrifying seconds, Rook imagines that this is what Solas actually looks like. When his face is stripped bare of all pretense and pretending. That he truly is curious and wise.

Unlocked, at the core.

The shock, the near-revulsion of this realization forces Rook to clamp her muscles against the instinct to flee. Absently, she contemplates examining this violent reaction, but Solas recovers first, something like uncertainty in his voice.

As if she is the wolf he needs to anticipate.

“Forgive my reaction. I was not expecting to find more similarities between us.” There is no smile on his face now, though his tone is anything but unkind. Meanwhile, the amethyst in his gaze simmers, growing more insistent with each breath. “Especially this one.”

The breeze promptly returns, twisting her curls back into her eyes again. “Oh, well… don’t worry about it. I won’t tell anyone,” Rook manages to say. For good measure, she winks—imitating her earlier gesture.

But this time, she finds she means it.

“I suppose you’ll know if the tea works based on how soon you see me again.”

Rook, by some unspoken observation, gets the distinct impression Solas feels as dazed as she does. A slight spasming of the hands at his sides lets her know that he probably wishes to hide them behind his back, but it is the fact that he does not, that he lets them hang loosely, at his hips, which is most conspicuous.

“Just in case, I’ll have a few people test the tea for safety beforehand. But be warned, Wolf Boy,” Rook laughs, raking a hand through her curls, “If the lyrium fucks me up because I am not a mage and you have forgotten about adverse effects in the many, many millennia you’ve been alive, I will come back here. On purpose. And I will recite one of Bellara’s Maker-awful Tevine newspaper serials from start to finish as punishment.”

“Fair enough,” Solas replies, beaming. His answering laugh seems to stir the prison at large, clearing away the worst of the smog in the atmosphere. Rook’s attention, while momentarily drawn there, doesn’t hinder Solas from regarding her with a mirthful, wisteria-tinted gaze.

“I suppose, then, that I would deserve such a fate.”

Rook hums, silvery eyes flashing. “You suppose right.”

#solrook #dreadrook #veilguard #rooklas #rook x solas #dragon age the veilguard #god. finally lol #every time i think about my outline/writing this my brain goes BBRBRBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRR #and then i sit down and it says FUCK YOU #*eye roll*#datv #dragon age #mine #my writing #da fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

ao3feed-piltovers-finest · 2 months ago

Text

I was always yours

by Gay_but_lesbian

What if Caitlyn wasn't the only one who slept with another during her time apart with Vi? Will she be able to handle the information that Vi has slept with not one but multiple women during the 6 months that they didn't see each other? (Spoiler alert: Fuck no she won't)

Words: , Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends)

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn & Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Possessive Caitlyn (League of Legends), Top Caitlyn (League of Legends), Bottom Vi (League of Legends), Possessive Sex, mention of maddie, Mention of Sevika, Porn With Plot, Spoilers for Arcane: League of Legends Season 02 Act 03, Not huge spoilers but enough I guess, I think they're canonically switches but Caitlyn is topping here y'all can shush, Caitlyn fucks Vi's abs idunno, Shameless Smut, Handcuffs, Caitlyn has her eyepatch on but takes it off at some point you can decide when she does lol, No beta we die like any Arcane character that has died so far seriously just pick one of them, Mentions other characters

Read on A03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

#ao3feed-piltovers-finest #a03feed-piltovers-finest #caitvi #arcane (league of legends) fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

firstprince-ao3feed · 3 months ago

Text

Puzzle Pieces

by Blombus Henry can forever curse his body, for making his prostate a treasure chest, hidden so perfectly well, you’d need a map to find it… and a degree in advanced cartography. And spoiler alert, most guys didn’t come equipped with either. or - spoiler no. 2 - Alex is his missing puzzle piece. Words: 4284, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 10 of Kinktober 2024 Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Percy "Pez" Okonjo Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Not Canon Compliant, No royal titles, meeting at a bar, Bottom Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, (but disappointed bottom), Top Alex Claremont-Diaz, (but tad overzealous abt it), Couch Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Blow Jobs, Safe Sane and Consensual, Coming Untouched via https://ift.tt/wTJ8YXF

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #Blombus

4 notes · View notes

elliebyrrdwrites · 5 months ago

Text

Do you actually think you’re a god? Little Jonas Dart asks me from where he’s sitting. We’re at the bar of the leaky cauldron and am in the middle of my first glass of alcohol.

“Most of the time.” I stare into the bottom of my glass, the ice has melted and in its place is a pale amber liquid that feels like drinking death. If death was liquified and bottled up, it would’ve fire whiskey.

When I think of Granger, and those distant memories, I feel as powerful as a god. When I descend into mania, it feels like all of that power is being pressed into a little fine little point. That little point resides inside of me and all of that unimaginable energy and power is building and building. until all of the matter being created inside can no longer be contained. until I finally explode. It all leaves me, in a rush, propelling outward. Destructive to all in its path.

Somehow, though, I am the only collateral damaged in the process.

It’s why I needed the potions. Well, maybe not that potion. But, a potion. Instead, I’ve settled for alcohol.

Similarly, it numbs then pain, but the more I drink, the more I relive the moment that caused the pain.

I watched Granger leave, the sway of her hips punishing me as she went.

The ants, they’re a thing. It’s when I suffer from these extreme fluctuations, the ants appear. They crawl over my skin, sometimes, they even bite me. I’ve learned to live with them.

And with the alcohol, they’re calmer, more subdued little bastards. I’ve only felt about three since I started drinking.

With Grangers declaration of hate for me and promising to never be mine, I’m left feeling broken.

All over again, I am bro.ken.

The point is, I feel like I’ve been waiting to remember her my entire life. Like I’ve loved her for a thousand more.

All for her to toss me aside, to promise me nothing in return.

That isn’t entirely true. She promised that she would never be mine.

Part of me just really fucking loves that about her. Her temper. She’s so calm but secretly, she has all of this passion, all of these feelings that run as deep as mine. Part of me hates her for causing this pain, despite me being the real reason for it all. I hate it. I hate myself.

But mostly, I hate my father.

“This is all my fathers fault.” I toss the rest of the liquid into my mouth and hold it there, bloating up my cheeks. Refusing to swallow the poison, for just a moment.

Little Jonas Dart nods, solemnly.

Little Jonas Dart isn’t actually so little anymore. He’s an imposing young man. Broad shoulders, square jawline, slick back golden hair and big blue eyes. He’s almost as tall as I am, but he’s bigger, width wise. He’s stronger than me.

Little Jonas Dart runs a hand through his hair and murmurs, under his breath. “Just say the word, boss.”

I don’t fight back my smirk as I lift a brow at the teenager. He’s running the back of his hand across his nose, as if to downplay the fact that he just offered to take my father out.

“I can’t kill, Dart. Never could. It’s why he’s so disappointed in me, of course.”

“So, what do we do about Granger?”

I wave a hand over at Tom, signaling a refill. The more I drink, the less I care. The less the alcohol tastes like poison.

“First, I’m going to get drunk.” I say as Tom fills my glass again. Spoiler alert, I’m already drunk. I’m twenty-three years old and I’m drunk off of one glass of whiskey. “Then?” Dart asks, sipping his water.

It’s a good question. Tomorrow, I’m marrying Astoria. Tonight, I was rejected by Granger.

“You wont give up on her, right?” He asks. I realized a year ago that the reason Little Jonas Dart cares so much about me being with Granger, is that he is actually in love with a mudblood at school. She’s a Ravenclaw and he thinks that if I can be with Granger, then he can be with her.

The point is, I was with Granger. And it destroyed us.

The point is, I don’t care.

“I’ll never give up on her.” I say before funneling the alcohol down my throat.

“Then, I have an idea.”

Little Jonas Dart eyes is going to take advantage of the fact that I am drunk and crazy.

I’m going to let him do it.

#dramione #fanfic #dramione fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dramione fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco and hermione #draco/hermione #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #dramione fan fiction #dramione ship #dhr fandom #second chance romance

8 notes · View notes

darth-grips · 9 months ago

Text

Chapters: 1/6

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Biggs Darklighter/Luke Skywalker, Reyé Hollis/Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo

Characters: Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Biggs Darklighter, Wedge Antilles, Lando Calrissian, Reyé Hollis, Din Djarin, Ben Solo

Additional Tags: Minor Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker, Minor Lando Calrissian/Luke Skywalker, Sorry I would feel guilty for putting this fic in these pairing tags lol, Trans Luke Skywalker, Protective Han Solo, Cuddling & Snuggling, Like jesus christ there is so much hugging going on in this fic. This is a real hug centric fic, Drinking & Talking, So much of that going on, Trans Reyé Hollis, Reyé Hollis my beloved, Not Canon Compliant - The Mandalorian (TV) Season/Series 03, Corellian Culture & Customs (Star Wars), POV Han Solo, POV Outsider, Accidental Voyeurism, Yeah Han accidentally walks in on Luke a lot for plot reasons lmfao, Character Study, Luke Skywalker Has Daddy Issues, Bottom Luke Skywalker, Transphobia, Not like.... explicitly. but it's there. unforch., 5+1 Things, Technically SWars Sequel Trilogy Compliant But We're Just Gonna Ignore That, Discord: DinLuke Server, Explicit Sexual Content, no beta we die like liberty with thunderous applause, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Married Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Han Solo Is Bad at Feelings, Han Solo is a Good Person, Good Parent Han Solo, Protective Leia Organa, Han Solo accidentally being the galaxy's biggest trans ally, Also sorry to Wedge fans in advance. if he's your special little guy maybe this fic isn't for you

Summary:

The Rebel Alliance has their own doomed cause, and now Han Solo has his: Keep Luke Skywalker breathing until he realizes what a karking naïve idiot he is and unquestioningly follows all of Han's advice.

Han Solo is a scoundrel, and a rogue, and a guy who's just trying his best when Luke Skywalker fumbles chest over camtono into his life. Turns out he might actually sort of love the kid, in all the ways there is to love another person, even as they fight in a rebellion and life and circumstances change both themselves and everything around them.

The problem is that Luke is a little lonely by nature and always on the hunt for love, and Han, who's sworn to protect him from both the galaxy at large and his own efforts toward idiotic martyrdom, doesn't think that there's really anybody in the galaxy who's good enough for him. He's not going to stick his nose into any of Luke's relationships, not if Luke doesn't want him to, but boy howdy do they give him one hell of a headache.

[Or, the 5+1 things fic that spun entirely out of my control, where it's Han, Luke, the five men who loved and lost Luke, and the one he eventually married, all over the course of 10 years. Spoiler alert, it's not Han.]

***

Plugging my new WIP which I’m having a blast writing tbh. It’s about every iteration of Skysolo, it’s about Luke, it’s about Luke being trans in the GFFA, and surprisingly, a lot of it’s about Han. Who knew he could be my perfect special little guy

#skysolo #dinluke #Luke Skywalker #Han solo #Star Wars fic #Skysolo fic #reyé hollis #dinluke fic #Luke skywalker/reyé hollis #René fic #if you do end up reading it I hope you enjoy. I’m living to write it right now lmao

10 notes · View notes

summer-blues-stuff · 1 year ago

Text

Some batfam fanfic recommendations for you to enjoy-

“ or, How Tim Drake Found A Family, Became A Photojournalist, Learned To Love Coffee, and Grew Up, not necessarily in that order.

Tim Drake is thirteen, runs the famous BatWatch blog that has spiraled hilariously out of control, has absentee parents that suit his purposes just fine, is training himself to run the streets at night, and is doing absolutely peachy, thank you.

Alfred and Jason disagree, and get Dick and Bruce involved in figuring out their weird nextdoor neighbor kid’s life. Everything goes uphill from there.”

One my favourites, i reread this every month it’s a classic time drake centric fic in which he joins the batfam early.

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

The bats have a sex pollen release form. Because of course they do.

Such a good, funny and goofy fic. 10/10 would recommend. The only issue with this is it isn’t long enough.

A classic of the genre, so witty in its humour- 10/10.

The morning Tim runs out of things to give, he can feel in his chest. It’s a hollowness; a feeling that if someone rapped their fist against his ribcage, he would ring like a drum. It’s a lightness; the same lightness he felt in that hot, sandy desert in Iraq when he thought he was going to die. Sometimes, everything going wrong is a comfort; at least when you hit rock bottom you know you’re done falling.

To heal your inner gifted burnout child.

Tim splits his pants at a charity gala. To say that he’s expecting merciless teasing from his brothers is an understatement.

What he gets is… not that?

This is so stupid i love it so much.

“Why not?” Jason asked, looking put out, “We stole Damian from him”

“We didn’t steal Damian”, Dick refuted, while the youngest of their family snorted, “Fool. As if grandfather wouldn’t increase security after you purloined me right under his nose”

Or, Bruce would like for one breakfast- just one, singular breakfast with his kids- to not be preceded by, filled with or result in complete and utter chaos

Tired single dad brucie

Tam insists Tim isn't okay, and gives him a task — to reach out for help. Tim would rather do, well, anything else. But it can’t hurt to try, right?

(Spoiler Alert: Yes, yes it can. So much. So, so much.)

My only two tags for this was holy fucking shit and sobbing so do with that what you will

READ THE TWs PLEASE.

The pieces were starting to click into place, aligning to create a deeply disturbing picture.

“Are you seriously saying you’ll become a missing person and fake your death for this stupid homecoming plan?” Jason interrupted, his voice full of as much judgmental incredulity as possible.

The kid’s eyes skated back over to him, his face twitching into a brief frown. “What? No.” A pause. “I mean, we could do that instead, if you wanted. But to fool Batman I’d need facial reconstruction surgery and new papers and it would all have to be untraceable—,” he broke off with a scoff, shaking his head slightly.

“No, it’s just smarter and more cost-efficient to do it for real.”

Tim learns about Jason Todd's return, does some research on the Lazarus Pit, and realizes that there might be a way to solve multiple problems all at once: removing himself from the picture.

For some strange reason, the Red Hood doesn't seem keen on cooperating.

Imagine being so unhinged that the person hellbent on murdering you is concerned.

Jason: 🧍‍♂️ 🗡️

Tim: 🙄🫥

Jason: …

Unfinished fic though.

#can you tell my favourite character is tim #I think you can #can you tell i have #autistic rizz #/deep emotional problems that affect daily functioning #I didn’t think so #gifted kid burnout check #😎#fanfic rec #batfam #tim drake #bruce wayne

11 notes · View notes

ao3feed-ateez · 4 months ago

Text

So Selfish

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/mkpMO0V by moonrisematz Yunho may not be a stalker, or a serial killer, or a secret pervert, but he’s something far, far worse. He’s hot— And he fucking knows it. Or; How is Mingi supposed to hold himself back when he finally notices the true colors hiding behind his new roommate’s friendly, innocent exterior? Spoiler alert: He doesn't. Words: 10139, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ), Song Mingi (ATEEZ) Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi (ATEEZ) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Roommates, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Consensual Non-Consent, Kind Of, Pervert Song Mingi, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Barebacking, Spit As Lube, Humiliation, Omorashi, Wet & Messy, Dom/sub Undertones, Top Song Mingi (ATEEZ), Bottom Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ), POV Alternating read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/mkpMO0V

#ao3feed #ateez fic #ateez rpf #ateez fanfic #kpop rpf

1 note · View note

johnpaul-ao3-feed · 1 year ago

Text

#mclennon #mclennon fic #john/paul #the beatles #beatles fic #ao3feed

3 notes · View notes

apocketfullofstones · 2 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian s3 e1 & 2 Review

Just some articulated thoughts about chapters 17 and 18 because I have opinions.

Spoiler Alert!!!

The first two episodes of The Mandalorian season 3 have both been a flop so far. First off, episode one just carried on from where Boba Fett's show left off with absolutely no explanation as to why or how Grogu is back with Din for the viewers who maybe didn't watch TBoBF, which is fucking annoying because it forces people to watch something they might not have been interested in in the first place.

Secondly, they should have of built up to Din going to Mandalore and getting some character development where he realizes that there is more to his life than just blindly following his covert's beliefs. And that life-altering epiphany along with his reunion with Grogu, learning how to properly wield the dark saber, and reaching the planet that was razed to the ground (depending on his decision on whether or not to rejoin the covert) should've been the overarching storyline. Instead we get to start off episode two with Din arriving at the desolate planet with Grogu in tow.

And don't even get me started on the sudden inclusion of Bo-Katan as Din's trusty sidekick. You know, the woman who joined an extremist group that was pretty open about their plan to assassinate the ruler of Mandalor -which was her sister at the time- just because they didn't like that she was a pacifist. The very same woman who wants the dark saber, not because she's selflessly trying to rebuild her people, their home, and their culture, but because she's selfishly after power. The woman who would happily slit Din's throat in a heartbeat if it meant that she could have the dark saber. That Bo-Katan? Yeah, okay. Needless to say, I'm finding the "new best friend" Bo-Katan storyline a hard pill to swallow.

Also can we acknowledge that Din falling like he did while bathing in the living waters was fucking dumb. I tried to rationalize it, giving him the benefit of the doubt by writing it off as him just being woozy from blood loss and not noticing the drop off. But even then, that doesn't explain why he plummeted so far, so ridiculously fast. It's because his armor is heavy!!! I can hear you typing furiously. But, you're wrong. We've seen in the previous season that the armor that Din wears is not actually that heavy. Like on the ship in s2e3 "The Heiress" he dives into the water and then is able to swim to the surface, treading water and holding onto the bars. The point is, he didn't sink. And he should have immediately went straight to the bottom of the hold after diving into the water if we were to believe that the beskar is really that heavy. Basically what I'm trying to say is that they are already retconning shit they've established just to hit these lame story beats instead of just writing the scene in a way that is loyal to the rules they've set in previous seasons and it's only the third season.

I fear that it can only get worse from here.

Oh! And I recently watched a short on YouTube that put some things into perspective about the choices that were made regarding the entire show. Apparently seasons 1 and 2 were filmed pretty much back-to-back, so while s1 was just airing, they were already well into shooting s2. So that means that the showrunners had no idea how big Grogu was going to get, which is why he was always handed off to someone else or left on the ship/in the pram and had very limited screentime in both season 1 and 2. It also explains the horribly rushed reunion because it is my belief that it was the writers original intention to write Grogu off the show at the end of season 2 by sending him away with Luke (and they would only bring him back as a cameo or something along those lines).

But with "Baby Yoda's" sudden internet popularity, they had to basically abandon their initial goal in order to keep their tiny, adorable cash cow (affectionate). If this theory of mine were true, it would also explain why Grogu's inclusion in s3 so far has been a bit awkward, like the writers aren't quite sure what to do with him and they just wrote him into scenes simply for him to be there. Because to me it felt like Bo-Katan was supposed to have accompanied Din to Mandalore from the jump, but then they had to change the script so that Grogu could do something other than just sit in his pram and look cute the entire time (like going to fetch Bo-Katan when Din is put out of commission). That would also make the pacing issues of episode 2 make sense cause it definitely took a while for Grogu to fly to Bo-Katan's castle (I doubt that she was less then an hour away) and the villain just so happened to wait to start up the machine to drain Din of blood until Grogu made the trip there and back? Yeah, no.

Also, I refuse to believe that Grogu couldn't help Din escape with his "force powers" at this point (take for example his feats in TBoBF), so him not even really trying was just a poorly disguised plot device to get Bo-Katan involved. And the minute that the audience notices that the plot is driving the characters, and not the other way around, the cracks start to become visible, breaking the immersion and making the show unenjoyable to watch because then fans (like me) are just gonna start picking apart everything that's wrong with the story.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorion spoilers #the mandalorian s3 #chapter 17 “The Apostate”#chapter 18 “The Mines of Mandalore”#episode tag #episode review #the mandalorian critical #review #din djarin #grogu #baby yoda

10 notes · View notes