#prodigee

[inexpressiblybeautiful]

Annacat, normally: *is grumpy* *hates everyone with a burning passion* *bites people* *is dead inside*

Annacat the moment Galadriel appears:

[mmmmmmmmmmmichkov]

nooo drysdale

[pint-sized-pillars-au]

Referring back to that question about the pillars' comfort items where muichiro drew a cat for gyomei (I need to see that drawing), does baby mui enjoy drawing, or was that just a one-time thing?

( he draws all the time! this is the cat drawing he made for gyomei!

( he draws all the time! he’s notably very talented for a baby who is less than a year old and can barely hold a crayon… something something prodigee

[mercillery]

You already know who this is lmao. Since you wrote Andrew perfectly from IDV I GOTTA see how you write Frederick relationship overview 🙏💕 I love my poor disgruntled ex prodigee French man

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I’ve got nothing to say about Frederick mains yet because I stopped playing around his release��but i’m sure his mains are fun to play with. I imagine they accidentally pop ciphers a lot too.

At first, Frederick would charm you in a way that feels almost unfair, like he’s playing a game you didn’t know you’d signed up for???

You’d find yourself completely entranced by Frederick—there’s no escaping it. This man doesn’t just walk into a room; he makes an entrance with a grace so smooth it practically slides in on polished shoes. He’s got this natural elegance that makes you wonder if he spends his weekends secretly training under some Victorian-era etiquette coach.

Every word, every subtle movement, is meticulously chosen to leave a lasting impression. You can almost hear a soundtrack playing whenever he talks. His gaze? Oh, it’s not just looking at you; it’s reading your very soul, flipping through your emotional pages like a well-loved book. This guy has the power to sweep any lady off their feet, whether they want to be swept or not. But don’t get too worried—you’re not just anyone to Frederick.

Dating Frederick is like a high-stakes thriller with poetic intermissions. When he’s chosen you as his focus, you’ll know it. He’s as devoted as a knight in shining armor with an artistic twist. Forget flowers—he’s out there composing symphonies that embody the way you laugh or the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re annoyed.

And yes, he’s that extra. But it’s not all rainbows and heartfelt sonatas. His passion runs as deep as the Mariana Trench, and with that comes a protective streak that would put guard dogs to shame.

His moments of jealousy? Let’s just say he doesn’t do halfway—Frederick only knows extremes. If you so much as wave at your barista a second too long, brace yourself for a brooding soliloquy about loyalty and his existential fear of being forgotten.

See, the man doesn’t just want to be liked or loved; he needs to be your everything. He’s got this internal scoreboard and if he’s not winning the gold medal in your heart, what’s the point? To Frederick, being mediocre is worse than losing—it’s being invisible, and he won’t settle for that. And honestly, why should he?

When it comes to love, Frederick doesn't do simple—no, he composes entire symphonies that could put Hollywood’s most dramatic love themes to shame. His idea of showing affection? It’s nothing short of an epic masterpiece.

You’d find yourself at the center of a grand concerto, where each note is painstakingly crafted to echo the highs, the lows, and those delicious in-betweens of your relationship. And, of course, private performances would become as routine as morning coffee.

Picture this: Frederick seated at a piano, fingers dancing across the keys, eyes darting to your face every other second as if he's trying to capture every flicker of your reaction. Is that awe? Is that admiration? Good. He’ll take that as a win. Your approval? It’s like a five-star review in a world where his love language is measured in crescendos and decrescendos.

But let's not forget—Frederick is a hopeless romantic, the kind who’s read Wuthering Heights one too many times and thought, Yeah, I can top that.

Love letters? Oh, they’re not just notes; they’re beautifully penned, metaphor-laden works of art that could make Shakespeare sit down and take notes. Candlelit concerts? He’s already planned three for next month, complete with a playlist that rivals the greatest romantic ballads in history.

And the surprises don’t stop there; you'll find flowers and little notes tucked into places you'd never expect: your bag, the fridge, maybe even the laundry hamper (don’t ask how they got there).

But for all his flair, Frederick isn’t just about grand gestures. There are those quieter, softer moments that catch you off guard and remind you that his love is as layered as one of his symphonies.

A simple lean of his head on your shoulder while you read, a touch so subtle you almost question if it happened, or that electric, intense gaze from across a crowded room—those moments are like a secret shared between the two of you. It’s like speaking an unspoken language, one where every glance and touch is a verse in an ever-unfolding poem that only the two of you understand.

Frederick’s sensitivity is a double-edged sword in your relationship, like owning a cat that’s both affectionate and completely unpredictable. On one hand, his perceptiveness is unmatched. This man could tell you’re upset from the way you’re stirring your coffee or the subtle shift in your smile.

Before you even have the chance to sigh, he’s there with those eyes full of concern, ready to listen and offer comfort that feels like a warm blanket on a cold day. It’s this deep empathy that forges an almost magical connection between you two, making you feel seen and understood in a way that’s rare. When Frederick’s with you, he’s with you—body, mind, and soul.

But there’s a catch, and it’s a big one.

His own emotions are about as stable as a teetering Jenga tower in the middle of an earthquake. Frederick feels everything on a scale of 1 to 100, with no in-between. Did you forget to say goodnight because you fell asleep? Prepare for an orchestra of internal questioning that could rival Hamlet’s soliloquy. Did you compliment a friend’s new jacket without immediately reassuring him that he still has the best taste in the room? Cue the silent spiral of doubt. He doesn’t just overthink—he over-operas. (Am I funny yet or do I just sound corny?)

Reassurance isn’t just appreciated; it’s essential. A simple “I’m here for you” can turn his internal storm into a calm, clear sky. Without it, his mind becomes a symphony of self-doubt, complete with the tragic overture of “Are they slipping away?”

And while it might sound exhausting, knowing this about Frederick means you’re sharing in something unique: a relationship where vulnerability is met with raw honesty and a commitment to each other’s emotional landscapes. Just be prepared for those moments when your calming words are the only thing standing between him and a full Shakespearean-level existential crisis.

While Frederick effortlessly projects an aura of undeniable charm and sophistication, it’s in those rare, private moments that you get to see beyond the polished exterior. These are the times when the cracks in his armor show, and you catch glimpses of the man behind the grandeur.

He’ll sit beside you, the gleam in his eyes softened, and open up about the disappointments that still gnaw at him. He’ll talk about the aching void left by his estranged family, the times he felt abandoned, and the relentless fear of mediocrity that follows him like a shadow he can’t shake.

It’s then you realize that his vanity isn’t just there to dazzle; it’s a well-crafted shield, desperately protecting the perfection-seeking artist who’s terrified of being truly seen and found wanting. In these moments, your acceptance of him—raw, imperfect, and honest—is worth more than a standing ovation at a sold-out concert.

But, spoiler alert: listening quietly won’t cut it.

He doesn’t just want to see that you’re present; he needs to hear your voice, feel your words like a balm on his frayed nerves. A silent nod isn’t enough when his mind is a cacophony of insecurities. He craves your reassurance like it’s the only song that can drown out the dissonance of self-doubt.

Then there are those times when Frederick’s paranoia takes center stage, and his brain transforms into a crime scene investigator looking for clues of your potential disinterest. Did you pause a beat too long before answering a question? He’ll dissect that silence like a forensic expert, eyes narrowing as if you just handed him the Rosetta Stone of heartbreak.

Even your simplest words or expressions are put under a microscope, magnified until he’s convinced he’s found proof that you’re slipping away. And yes, this can lead to some tension that’ll have you wondering if you’re in a relationship or a 24/7 reality show with constant performance reviews.

But here’s the twist—your patience and understanding are the keys to unlocking the security he craves. Sure, it might feel like you’re on an emotional tightrope at times, but when you take that moment to reassure him, to tell him he’s enough, you’ll see the tension melt away, and the storm in his eyes settle. Your steady, confident love is what helps Frederick silence the relentless chorus of doubt, making him feel seen, cherished, and—finally—secure.

Frederick has an eye for beauty, a radar for aesthetics, and a deep appreciation for life’s most elegant experiences, so if you’re with him, get ready for a whirlwind of high-class romance. Dates with Frederick aren’t just nights out—they’re productions.

Picture this: a night at the opera where he’s reserved the best seats, just for you and him, leaning close to whisper his insights on the music while his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your arm. Or an evening spent at a prestigious art gallery where he guides you from piece to piece, sharing stories and perspectives that make the artwork come alive.

Even a simple walk in the park with Frederick is elevated; he’s not just strolling—he’s carefully navigating to the most scenic routes, stopping at every blooming flower and golden-lit pond to take in the view and share a quiet moment of awe with you. He’ll glance at you with that expectant smile, as if to say, Isn’t this incredible?—and yes, he’ll definitely be checking to see if you agree.

And yes, if you’re wondering, he does have standards—expectations, even. Frederick doesn’t want to enjoy these experiences alone; he wants to bask in your shared appreciation, revel in your mutual admiration for art, architecture, and all things exceptional.

He’ll be delighted to show you off to his social circle, introducing you with a certain pride, as if you’re the finest piece in his collection of treasured things. But with that comes an unspoken agreement that you’ll match his refined demeanor and partake in his world of cultured conversation and elegant gestures.

Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s not expecting you to memorize 18th-century sonatas overnight or debate the merits of impressionism versus post-impressionism at every cocktail party. But if he catches even the slightest yawn during a concert or a vague, non-committal “It was fine” when he asks your thoughts on an exhibit—oh boy, brace yourself.

His brows will furrow in a way that says Is this really happening?, and suddenly, the air will feel a bit tense, like you’ve hit a wrong note in the symphony of his evening. He thrives on shared enthusiasm, so when he doesn’t see that spark in your eyes, he’s left wondering if you’re really on the same page or if you’d rather be anywhere else.

The key to navigating these moments? Patience and a touch of reassurance that, yes, you’re in this for the full experience—fancy outfits, whispered critiques at the opera, picturesque paths and all.

One thing about Frederick? He holds mediocrity in absolute contempt. This extends beyond his own aspirations and into the realm of your relationship, which, to him, is just another area where greatness must reign supreme.

If you're with Frederick, get ready for a personal coach, cheerleader, and, occasionally, an overly intense life mentor wrapped into one. He’ll push you to chase your dreams and won’t just clap when you reach a milestone—he’ll give you a standing ovation, complete with dramatic applause.

But with that passionate encouragement comes an edge; Frederick will also be your most unsparing critic, the kind who’ll say, “That was good, but it could be phenomenal,” right when you’re ready to celebrate. It’s motivating, sure, but if you don’t share his relentless pursuit of excellence or just need a break now and then, it might feel like you’re jogging beside someone who’s running an ultra-marathon…

If you really want Frederick to beam like he just won an award, show a genuine love for his craft or nurture a passion of your own. Respect for talent and hard work is practically woven into his DNA, so when he sees that you have your own spark, that’s when you become more than just a partner—you’re his muse, his equal, the one who fuels his artistic spirit.

Conversations with Frederick are not your run-of-the-mill small talk. Forget chatting about the weather or weekend plans; he’s here to unravel the mysteries of the human mind, ponder the nature of ambition, and debate the intricacies of creativity.

His interest in dissecting emotions, motivations, and talent isn’t just a casual hobby; it’s like he’s running a one-man TED Talk every time he opens his mouth.

And you? You’ll probably find yourself nodding along, wide-eyed, captivated by the way he speaks with such eloquence that even the most mundane statement sounds profound.

Honestly, he could say, “An orange is orange,” and you’d be nodding like, “Absolutely, that’s so true,” while trying not to swoon from the sheer brilliance of his delivery.

That said, these conversations aren’t just one-sided lectures. Frederick expects engagement, intellectual back-and-forth, even if it turns into a bit of a debate. And make no mistake—he’s got strong opinions and isn’t afraid to challenge yours, especially when it comes to art and talent.

But here’s the thing: he respects those who can spar with him in these verbal duels. If you stand your ground and hold your own, you’ll earn a rare, approving smile that makes all those philosophical tangents worth it.

Plus, there’s something quite mesmerizing about listening to him—his voice, rich and confident, pulls you in, and you’re left thinking, “Yes, Frederick, tell me more about the complexities of human nature and why oranges are orange,” while internally planning your Nobel Prize acceptance speech for keeping up with him.

Beneath Frederick’s air of grandeur and confident public persona, there’s a side of him that only you get to see—a soft, almost fragile version of himself that craves simple, unguarded intimacy. These are the moments when he lets the mask slip and the weight of being Frederick Kreiburg, the heir, the prodigy, the perfectionist, melts away.

It’s in these quiet interludes that you find him seeking solace, laying his head in your lap as you read, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your knee while he closes his eyes, enjoying the rare sense of peace. He doesn’t need to fill the silence with grand words or impressive declarations. In your shared space, the performance is over; he’s just Frederick, vulnerable and human, grateful that he doesn’t have to strive for perfection in your presence. Your presence alone is enough to soothe the symphony of doubt that usually plays on loop in his mind.

And while he might dazzle the crowds with his musical prowess and philosophical musings, one of his quieter passions is equestrianism—a skill that, unlike many of his pursuits, isn’t about impressing others but about finding a rare moment of freedom. It’s a pastime that lets him shed the pressure and simply enjoy life for what it is, the rhythmic pounding of hooves syncing with his heartbeat as he gallops across open fields, feeling the wind tug at his platinum hair.

When he invites you to join him on horseback rides, it’s more than just an activity; it’s an invitation into this private realm where he feels unburdened and alive. Teaching you to ride? Oh, he’ll approach it with all the patience and joy that he usually reserves for his most cherished pursuits. He’ll guide you with an amused smile as you find your balance, his hand never straying too far from yours, ready to steady you at the slightest wobble.

But nothing makes his heart lift quite like seeing you experience the same exhilaration that riding brings him. That shared thrill—the wind in your hair, the laughter that bubbles up as you both race through sun-dappled trails—is something he treasures. It’s one of the few times where his worries, ambitions, and relentless pursuit of excellence fade into the background, and it’s just the two of you, free and unbound.

And when he looks over at you, eyes bright and a grin cracking through his otherwise composed demeanor, you realize that, yes, this is Frederick at his happiest—not the heir or the virtuoso, but a man who, for once, is simply living in the moment, sharing it with the one person who makes it all more vibrant.

Ah, the shadows of Frederick’s past—a specter that never quite left him, always lingering in the corners of his mind, whispering doubts and sowing restlessness. There are days when this presence looms larger, and he becomes a man consumed by his inner turmoil, pacing like a caged lion or retreating into the sanctuary of his study.

In these moments, it’s like he’s waging a war with his thoughts, wrestling with the frustration of creative blocks or the relentless voice that tells him he’s never enough. He might shut the world out, drowning himself in a storm of music that’s as chaotic as his thoughts, fingers flying over the keys, each note a plea for peace that never quite comes.

It’s during these times that your role is both simple and profound. You may not know it, but your quiet, unwavering presence is the lighthouse guiding him through the storm.

A soft touch, the brush of your hand against his arm as you pass by, or just sitting in the room while he spirals—these things are the lifelines he doesn’t always know how to ask for but desperately needs. And while you might think that just being there isn’t enough, oh, how wrong you’d be.

The truth is, your patience and silent support do more than calm the chaos; they remind him that he isn’t alone in the struggle. Your reassurance is like a hidden chord in his symphony, one he clings to when the rest feels dissonant.

Of course, it’s not always easy. There will be times when the emotional weight feels as if it’s pressing down on you too, and you catch yourself thinking, Is this worth it?

And then you remember—remember the man behind the polished façade, the one who laughs a little too loudly when he’s truly caught off guard, or who looks at you with such raw, unguarded affection that it makes your heart stutter. The one who finds solace in resting his head in your lap and who lights up when he shares the simple joy of a horseback ride. The man who, despite his brilliance and bravado, is just as flawed and human as anyone else.

And in those moments, it doesn’t feel so exhausting. It feels like you’re part of something beautiful and rare—like you’re holding a piece of someone that no one else gets to touch, no matter how flawless his public persona may seem.

You realize that while being with Frederick comes with its trials, it also comes with moments of breathtaking vulnerability and love so consuming that it makes every struggle worth it. Because underneath the charm, the intensity, and the restless ambition is a man who, at the end of the day, needs you more than he’ll ever admit out loud. And that? That makes it all worthwhile.

[springwitch8]

hots for teacher (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 2

summary: you've been infatuated with melissa schemmenti ever since you worked under her as a student teacher. what will happen when you meet again a few years later?

warnings: NSFW content, implied future smut (part 2 on the way??), praise kink, age gap idk

notes: hi everyone! my name is april, and this is my first ever fanfiction. i wrote this for fun and then decided to share it with the community, because i love the little gay women in my phone! i've been reading fics on tumblr for as long as i've been on the internet, so this is a strange experience for me. anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you guys think!

tonight you looked sexy, and you knew it. you wore a sinfully short black dress with colorful butterflies. it was one of your favorites; it showed just the right amount and hugged just the right places to be tantalizing. your eyes were painted with thin black wings and soft, glittery eyeshadow that made you look like a sweet dream. your lips glistened and your hair was tied up in two dutch braids. you were a vision.

all this meant that you were not the least bit surprised when a deep, sultry female voice sounded from behind where you sat at the bar.

"it should be illegal to look like that in public."

you smiled coyly and turned around to face the stranger.

"why? see something you like?" when you turned to face her, however, you were met with a familiar face. it was a face you'd seen in your dreams time after time: your former boss, melissa schemmenti.

you had been assigned to work with melissa as a student teacher while you were in school for your teaching certification. at the time, she was teaching two grades simultaneously, so she was grateful to have you there to ease the burden. it didn't hurt that you were always so eager to please. you wanted to learn and become the best teacher you could be.

of course, your motives weren't entirely pure. you were attracted to melissa from the moment you saw her. you remembered it like it was yesterday: her flaming red hair was slightly messy from trying to wrangle her double class, and her glasses sat askew on her nose. then you came along and turned everything around. she would give you to-do lists, and you would finish them before lunchtime the same day.

"great job, hon! you're so good, don't know what i'd do without you..." she'd say each time, beaming with pride at her new prodigee.

"o-of course, ms. schemmenti. what else can i do for you?" you'd respond, blushing profusely at the praise and struggling to hold her intense gaze.

within a week of having you, melissa was caught up on all her work. she couldn't help but feel like you were an angel, or some kind of gift from god. whatever you were, she cherished you. as the two of you spent more time together, she started to want you more and more. every project, every conversation, every smile you two shared only added to your chemistry.

she had fun with it--teasing you with special pet names and praise, watching you get all flustered and squirmy. she knew you liked her back. you weren't the most subtle about your desire.

melissa would never act on her feelings, though. you were a doe-eyed twenty-something with big dreams, and she was your much older boss. getting involved with you would be too messy. but she always held out hope, even after you left abbott, that one day you'd meet again.

you studied melissa's sly smirk for a moment, in disbelief at your luck. it had been two years since you left abbott. you had your own big girl job now, and you were a bit more mature. there was nothing stopping you from acting on your desires.

"oh my god, ms. schemmenti! please, have a drink with me. it's been a while." you hoped you didn't sound too desperate, although you definitely looked desperate once you got a good glance at her.

her look was striking. your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned her form, dressed in red leather pants and a button-down shirt. her arms were visibly muscled, even through the jacket. the black button-down shirt she wore was unbuttoned just enough to tease her cleavage. around her waist was a thick black belt that you wanted to pull on. her fiery hair was tied back haphazardly in a high ponytail, just messy enough to be sexy. and her hands—god, her fingers were long and ringed and—

"whatever you say, kid," she shrugged and sat down next to you, giving you a playful smile. "and you can call me melissa now."

she had a mischievous glint in her eye, probably knowing how you felt just by the wanton way you stared at her. when she sat down beside you, you felt your whole body heat up. your thighs were almost touching from the proximity, and you could smell her intoxicating perfume with each inhale. feeling her body so close to yours had you more drunk than the alcohol. it didn't help that her eyes now roamed over your body shamelessly, taking in your glistening lips and lingering on your soft cleavage. you tried your best to play it cool.

you talked for a while, catching up on everything. you told her about your new job at a suburban elementary school, your volunteer tutoring on the weekends, your summers in the mountains. she beamed with pride hearing of your accomplishments.

"that's great, y/n! sounds like you're goin' places."

"thank you! i think i owe a lot of my success to my student teaching experience—everyone at abbott was great, including you. especially you," you looked at her with an intense gaze, feeling your desire catch up with you.

"you were such a passionate mentor. you just had this way of getting me excited..." you trailed off as you fixated on the stirrings of a smirk on her face.

"...excited about learning," you finished shakily.

"mm-hmm," she chuckled.

maybe it was the alcohol, or the simple fact that she was right next to you and seemingly devouring you with her eyes, but you became bolder then. you only had one shot at this.

"i mean, you really touched me in a way that nobody else could," you leaned in, dragging out your syllables for emphasis. "i worked so hard because i just needed to be good for you."

now she was the one shuddering. you had the upper hand, if only for a moment. but she quickly got her boldness back.

"i noticed that. always so bright and attentive. i bragged to all the other teachers about what a good girl you were." to top it all off, she punctuated her sentence by placing her hand firmly on your knee.

you thought you were going to explode right then and there. your skin erupted in goosebumps at her touch, and you spread your legs ever so slightly to indicate your consent. her face split into a smug grin and she began to crawl her fingers up your thigh, agonizingly slowly.

your response came as a shaky whisper. you were sure you must have soaked through your panties just from her teasing touches.

"it's good to know that you thought so highly of me. i looked up to you a lot," you said sheepishly. "um, i'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but i did have a bit of a crush on you..."

"oh, yeah. that doesn't surprise me. don't be embarrassed, hon. you can't help what you feel," her hand had stalled at the midpoint of your thigh, and she looked at you with sincerity.

"it doesn't surprise you?" you asked, struggling to get the words out once she resumed stroking your thigh.

"i had my suspicions," she said with a knowing smirk. "i'm sharper than i look, ya know."

her darkened eyes sent shivers down your spine. you felt your core heat up at the humiliation of knowing she knew exactly what you thought about her.

"am i that obvious?" you asked, somewhat breathily.

"oh, sweetheart," she laughed. she leaned in close and you could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. her fingers pinched the skin of your thigh as she whispered to you. "you sat five feet away from me for months, always wearin' those little black skirts. you think i didn't see you rub your thighs together every time i gave you praise?"

her hand now caressed your inner thigh softly, teasingly. you failed to respond, trying to process her words but finding yourself unable to do anything but whimper almost silently.

"so soft here. mhmm," she husked into your ear. there was a hint of giddiness in her voice, as if she was pleased with herself for taking you apart so easily. "does that feel good, princess? do you like it when i touch you?"

"yes!" you said, almost too loudly for the public setting. "yes, i like it very much."

"good," she whispered as her fingers found the edge of your panties. your thighs spread even wider, and you let out a small gasp.

"we've got lots more to catch up on, don't we?" she continued, her fingers drawing feather-light circles over your clit through the fabric. you wondered if she could feel you throbbing for her. your hips bucked up to meet her hand, and she slapped your thigh in warning. "if you wanna keep talkin', we can head back to mine..."

you turned to her with big, glazed-over eyes. still whimpering, you nodded rapidly, earning a laugh from the older woman. she grabbed your hand and guided you out of the packed bar.

"i'm gonna wreck you, hon," she mumbled without looking back at you.

[ojerasgigantes]

It is becoming severly hard for me to not put my tin foil hat on

I remembered about Jungs and Freuds falling out and got curious enough that I looked it up again, and it's so much more dramatic than I remembered. Like first of all, they were much closer than I thought. The 1st time they met, Jung approached him because he was a fan of his work, and they apparently spoke for 13 hours (????????) on a park bench of all places. Colleagues of them said that their friendship was "passionate and odd."

Also over the span of 6 years they sent each other around 360 letters, which is like 1 letter per week (!!!!)

[semi-good-wizard]

hiiiii i'd love to know more abt the free city of atlan :3

I would love too, but first your prior question

I use Clip Studio paint, and a few brushes for cartography i picked up a few years ago.

(Im gonna ramble a while so)

Since none of my players have tumblr I can tell you all the spoilery bits aswell! Atlan was founded at the holy battleground where the goddess of key, hammer and sword triumphed over the storm monster (sources disagree on what monster it was), Tempestas.

unbeknownst to the scholars of Her church, She didnt quite defeat Tempestas. instead he was imprisoned in one of Her machinations, the Malleator Mechanism. Time buried this clockwork sarcophagus deep beneath the ground, tho 8 parts of the machine were removed so that it cant function correctly. as the corrected churning of the gears would release the skybeast once again, the parts where given to influental figures of the city, so they may protect it.

many aeons have passed since then, and the city has flourished. but as any city that grew over time, it didnt just grow into the sorounding landscape, but also over itself, converting the grand buildings into underground passageways and rubble.

the elder storm inside the machine didnt lay silent though, even with the machine parts removed, parts of him escaped. forming monsters in the dark corridors below. like moths, these creatures where drawn to the light, and crept into the city, killing hundreds. To safeguard the town from the threats from below, the D.e.S, the Descensus ex Speleaum, was founded, a council of adventurers, healers and explorers. As Time turns, stories get twisted. for now the works of the Goddess of key, hammer and sword have grown rarer, and so the tales of their abilities grew grander. The Malleator Mechanism gained the epithet of Wishgranter, luring adventurers to the D.e.S in promise of treasure.

The City in the meanwhile overthrew their tyrant king by the name of Damokles, and placed his throne in the town square. so that the king is face to face with his charge. unbeknownst to the townsfolk, and the King's successor, the old, now dead, king had received a prophecy and curse; While all who said on the throne shall enjoy authority, they shall also enjoy a swift and merciless demise. Thus the sucessor died, and the city remained leaderless. But, to their joy or dismay (accounts wary), the mechanism keepers used their influence to keep the city together; technically turning it into an Aristocracy. though the figures abstain from using their powers to much, lest they draw closer to the Damokles Throne.

The current mechanism keepers are:

Odeon, a green dragon, acting from the shadows with her rabble of criminal prodigees

Janus Lavet, vampire, who rather took to mending the wounds instead of letting his prey bleed out. he leads the Lavet Sanatorium. (his fashion sense, like him, died around 200 years ago)

CEO Wurmlock, Arcanaloth, keeps close eye on his debtors, as hes in charge of the Agency for extraplanar storage, the securest storage for the highest prices. though those who cant pay their fees must pay with their belongings

Ywain, Cloud Goliath, and Erato, Sphynx, are the decans of the academy of arcane brilliance, pairing exceptional students with sphynxes, for a riddle is best solved with a friend.

Nicola DeWinter, dwarf, watches paranoid over her factory for potions and tinctures, for prying eyes are always out for her recipes.

Cadmus Altiora, probably an Aasimar?, has been in charge of the postal office of Atlan for around a hundred years, utilising a combination of pneumatic tubes and air elementals to deliver your mail (at least your letters, parcels still have to be carried by hand)

Madame Hypnos, Incubus, oversees the marvelous performances at the Oneiros, the theater of Dreams. Visitors report of the plays continuing to play in their dreams.

Even though he does not hold a part, he should still be mentioned since hes close to discovering the central Mechanism

Percival Galeas, human, the leader of the D.e.S, is drawn below the city streets due to the tales of the Wishgranter, wanting to use it to uncurse the Damokles Throne, so the city may regain order.

Also, while im at showing of my cool drawings, this is the Malleator Mechanism

and the Tempestas Herald, a mysterious knight, awoken by the return of the mechanism parts. (so far im planning on him being a bit like the spooky blot creature from JoCat's Heart of Elynthi)

[object-vault-9]

Dianthus, what was your relationship like with clipboard?

He was basically her prodigee ! Dianthus played a role in the education of the other Vault 13 members, and was involved in teaching many of the members that are younger than her. She was close with Clipboard especially ! (Also he is not Petunia's father, the relationship between him and Dianthus was purely a platonic mentor/student. He did help splice Petunia's genes though !)

[dizzyduck44]

I have to say being a fan of the sport long enough to have seen his father race I can confirm there are no lies in this article. Supported by two stories that pre-date Max in F1.

Firstly Trevor Carlin recalls seeing him at an F3 test. Now Carlin whilst a small team are well respected and been the launch pad for many drivers. He recalled that Max was insanely quick and everyone wanted him, but he knew Carlin couldn’t afford the demands that would be made on the team. So Max/Rex Bull had conditions attached to him from a young age.

Add to that Lando’s recollection of meeting Marko. The team were interested in him as early as F3, but he left that meeting with the impression he wasn’t as good as Max so they didn’t care. The fact they went for him again in F2, effectively forcing McLaren to put him in an F1 seat and every 18 months or so seem to start the charm offensive just proves this article’s point. They are blinded by Max with little concern they needed to fill two seats.

How many drivers have they let go or let slip through their fingers to keep Verstappen? Yes he is brilliant but if you don’t have the next great thing cooking away on a back burner this is where you end up. The fact they have let Albon and Sainz, two drivers many feel are top 10 drivers on the grid slip out of their grasp, shows the tunnel vision the team has had.

Think about this, as Seb Vettel was winning his championships Red Bull already had Ricciardo, Sainz and Verstappen coming up. What do they have of that quality now?

The fact next season we could see the new generation of Mercedes and Ferrari’s bright new stars on the grid. The two McLaren drivers will still be in the youngest half of the grid with a combined 10 years of experience, in addition to the team’s driver development programme, Indy team and Formula E team to blood and train up their next potential superstar.

If letting Lando slip away from them wasn’t bad enough, it must sting that Mark Webber, their own former driver, took his prodigee to McLaren and not them when he wanted out of Alpine.

Red Bull need to do something otherwise it will become a case of shoulda, woulda, coulda.

(And no I’m not tagging Max as none of this is his fault)

[dayurno]

i think it would be so cool and delicious to read renee from your point of view. anything. jeanee. kevjeanee. dean/renee. anything. please.

ive written dan/renee before actually!!! it was for a writing game and its in the same verse as my burlesque au :) its a very old piece so please be mindful of that, but here u go:

2 — A small, fleeting kiss — which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

Burlesque is a pompous, smoke-filled, luxurious industry —  one that Renee has been part of for too long. 

From the years of shiny costumes and coy music, Renee had compiled a lifetime of purple bruises on her thighs and knees, a small fortune made up of tips, and one too many fleeting crushes on the just as fleeting dancers Renee had the pleasure of working with. It is certainly ironic, in a way, that though Renee's job is by the most part making the men fall in love with her —  an easy task, really —, it is the women that she trails after at the end of the day.  

It is just as ironic that, with Kevin and Matt as exceptions, it is women that Renee works with. Burlesque performers are in their majority female, which might be the most pleasant part of the job once money is not on the table: Renee had lost count of how many hours she'd spent watching her fellow coworkers prim themselves for a performance, everything from Katelyn's discreet lip gloss to Allison's over-the-top rhinestone craze, each more beautiful than the other as they align themselves in the dressing rooms. 

Renee Walker loves women. It was not news to anyone —  certainly not news for some of her coworkers, whose warm hands Renee had felt on her for more than just rehearsal —, and it could never be contested, however blind the men who come to the Foxhole may be. 

So it made sense, of course, that the moment Danielle Wilds walked into that dressing room was the moment Renee's train of rational thought came to an abrupt stop. The rest, as one might know, is history.

A Friday night has the Foxhole dripping from head to toe in visitors, the anticipation of the audience rumbling through their small dressing room as the first performers of the night finessed the last details of their performances near the exit, coached by a rather unamused Nicky. From the other corner of the room, Neil —  newest addition to their line-up, nearing his debut stage but just inexperienced enough to be Kevin's prodigee —  is being thoroughly handled by the aforementioned, who was just as impatient at styling their fellow performers as he was meticulous at it.

Renee couldn't see what Neil looked like over Kevin's wide shoulders, but she doubted there was anything to worry about: Burlesque is not all talent, and as long as Neil is able to sell himself to the audience, he'll be finer than most.

Allison had just left the seat near Renee unoccupied to practice her routine for one last time before going up on stage when Dan slipped into it, her dark skin shimmering with glitter under the artificial lights as she leant her elbows against their shared vanity, bright pink wig falling over her shoulders in waves.

They had a shared number, today —  Renee's wig, though a pastel blue in contrast with Dan's bright pink, reached under her chin in a graceful bob cut, matching with the naturally short nature of her dress, as sparkly blue as her makeup. In front of the mirror, they looked like a matching set; someone's wildest dreams come true. 

Dan's red lips open in a smirk, all white teeth, and Renee hates every inch of her, from the dangerously short hem of her skirt to the thigh highs that draped all over the dark skin of her legs, an image Renee couldn't forget even if Dan allowed her to. 

"Already got your good luck kiss from Reynolds?" Dan hums, brushing through her wig with carefully manicured fingers, her tanned hands part of Renee's most common daydreams. 

Renee hums back, running a hand through her wig's blue fringe. "Jealous?" she asks, the glossiness of her lips only as heavy as the glossiness of her eyelids. "A woman like you has no need for jealousy."

"Not jealousy," Dan disagrees, turning to consider Renee in her entirety. Dan's eyes are so dark they're almost black, molded by eyelashes so long and thick Renee felt the urge to reach out and touch —  it was the kind of stare no one could turn away from. Her tinted lips moved slowly as she said, "I have no one to be jealous of."

"Oh?" Renee replies, averting her eyes from the way Dan's skirt riled up ever so slightly as her legs crossed. "And why is that?"

Dan motions dismissively, the nonchalant depiction of arrogance. "Our girls are pretty, but they're not me," she clarifies, "and you don't do boys."

In spite of herself, Renee's lips tug into a smile. "No, I do not," she answers, leaning back on her chair. "If Allison heard you saying that…" Renee smacks her lip gloss-filled lips together, trailing her sentence into the ground.

"Allison can have anyone else she wants," Dan hums, in that ruthless way of hers Renee can only hope to keep for as long as Dan lets her have it, "as long as it's not you."

Renee leans closer —  just to see what she would do, really; how far Dan was willing to show just how much no one else could have Renee —, and Dan's fingers close around her chin immediately, manicured long nails brushing against the soft skin of Renee's cheeks. "See?" Dan asks, almost in a purr. "I don't have to prove a point. You're about to break your neck for just a kiss."

She hums in agreement, hands coming to rest against Dan's exposed knees, the warm skin singing under her palms. "One kiss, Wilds," Renee drags out as Dan leans in, "and just one. You wouldn't want to ruin your makeup."

"Not mine," Dan agrees. "Yours, I would."

"And survive Kevin's scolding?" Renee brushes her nose against Dan's, feeling the fingers on her chin tighten. "Aren't you eager?"

"Aren't you?"

Renee presses a kiss to Dan's inner wrist, letting her mouth drag through Dan's pulse. "Self-restraint is a virtue."

Dan makes a sound of agreement. There is a lipstick mark on the inside of her wrist, courtesy of Renee's dark makeup, but she doesn't bother to wash it off as she tips Renee's chin back for a quick, short peck. 

She's about to pull away when Renee's hand closes around her wrist, keeping her close. Dan's red lips close around a smug smirk, and Renee barely cares that they're in the dressing room. "Where's your virtue now?" she prompts, infuriatingly arrogant. "I don't see it."

Renee tugs her close, and Dan follows. 

Their mouths brush, lipstick against lipstick, and Renee snarls, "Shut up," before pulling Dan into a heavier, deeper, longer kiss, her hands coming to rest against Dan's neck to keep her close, thumb dragging up and down her jugular.

[the-babygirl-polls]

Yotasuke Takahashi - Blue Period

Propaganda:

Art prodigee that doesn't want and have difficulty making friends. Definitely has gifted child syndrome and a few mental illness. He's also very agressive toward the main character and it's very gay

[lesbolordo]

Leander P. X Sebastian S | Hogwart's Legacy.

Fifth Part.

"Garreth."

"Leander confesses everything to his worried best friend."

Tags : Garreth and Leander talking, angst, hurt and insecure Leander, Prodigee-potioneer-Garreth giving love advices, minor Garrinis, heartbroken Leander, best friends Leander and Garreth.

Two months. It had been two months since the two last had talked, in private. Their usual bickering and fighting still went on per usual -even maybe stronger and more vulgar- but other than that, Sebastian fully ignored Leander.

The Gryffindor had no idea how he had managed to last for so long. Not just without sex, but also with that... Unresolved, awkward and uncomfortable tension between him and his ex partner. Each time they were accidentally alone, one of the two would immediatly find a way to escape the embarassing situation.

Leander thought he was doing okay, other than that. Apparently not. Garreth had asked him about his "foul moods" and "weird behaviors". The two red heads then had an awkward conversation, where Garreth tried to be a good friend and have a serious talk with his obviously hurt best friend, and Leander didn't want to talk about it. Kind of like a teenage son and his dad, Garreth thought.

In the end, the taller red head had given up and just told Garreth that he'd tell him about everything later. Garreth simply had agreed and left, sensing that it was a serious matter and that it was hard for his friend to open up.

Leander honestly had no idea how Sebastian was taking their "breakup" (-could he even call it such ? They weren't together, not really.). Either the Slytherin really didn't care, or he was just very good at hiding his hurt -unlike Leander apparently.

So here was he, waiting for his best friend on one of the old and ugly bright red armchairs of the Gryffindor's common room. They had agreed to meet there and not in their dorm room because there was a Quidditch match going on, and nobody was there anyway.

Leander almost felt comforted by the harsh warmth of the fireplace in front of him, and his gaze was lost in the flames as if he tried to burn his retina so he would never have to see anyone -Sebastian- again. His trance was interrupted by Garreth's arrival.

"-Hey, Lee. The curly red haired boy said with a voice softer and less enthusiastic than usual as he sat down on the couch nearby. Leander was grateful that his friend wasn't too cheerful, or else he'd look like the party pooper with his terrible mood. You good mate ?

-Fine I guess. He shrugged. He really wasn't. He was too prideful to admit it.

-You... Want to talk about it ? I mean, yes, you do. And yes, you will. Garreth went on, letting his friend know that he wouldn't give up this time. Leander chuckled.

-Alright, alright... Just... It's a tad weird alright ? Well, bizarre things don't usually frighten you, but this is about me so...

-Yes, yes, go on. I'm curious. Leander knew that he could trust him.

-... It's about Sebastian.

-Ah, he broke your heart ?

-Yes- What ?? The taller Gryffindor threw a scandalized look to his friend. How- how did you come to that foolish conclusion ??

-Well, let me see... As usual, Garreth's smug grin appeared on his face, and Leander knew he had made a terrible mistake asking. So, you've been in a terrible mood for a while, right after Sebastian was said to having stopped seeing his "girlfriend" -he made apostrophes with his fingers- Also, the tension between the two of you is stupidely weird ! Before, it was sexual, playful and maybe sometimes angry, and now it's just... Sexual, very angry, and mostly awkward. Also, don't think I'm stupid enough to not hear you sneak out of bed at night - which you've stopped doing 2 months ago, by the way, and no need to tell you since when he stopped seeing his girlfriend, I think you're good enough to do the math on your own... I also heard people talk about you two being in the same cubicle in the restrooms, which is very naughty I think, didn't take you for that type... Oh, and, lastly, you called him Sebastian and now you're bright red. The other Gryffindor's smug grin appeared again. So, am I correct ?

-I.... Leander did regret asking for explanations. He felt his whole face burning with both shame and ridicule. So he WAS that obvious. Merlin's beard... Well, you are correct but.. He didn't break my heart, I think that's a bit dramatic. He thought for a moment, avoiding his friend's gaze to stare into the flames again. Garreth could see that he was ashamed, so he didn't say anything. We weren't in love, we were just fooling around. And if anything, I'm the one who broke his heart...

-Oh, come on, Sebastian's way too cool to get heartbroken ! Leander shot him a glare, and the other red head chukled. Right, sorry, you're cool too... Just, not "Sallow-cool". Anyway. What happened, really ?

-... Well, I might have said that he was undatable and unlovable. Kind of an asshole move, isn't it ?

-Godrick's sake, yes. Worst thing to say to the boy you're courting !

-I wasn't courting- He was shushed by Garreth's hand on his shoulder, and for a second he could see his best friend's mom instead of his best friend. It was amusing, he scolded him the same way she scolded them when they were young and careless.

-Now listen here Lee ! Garreth-the-prodigy-potioneer will give you some love advices ! He had his chest proudly puffed out, and a cheeky grin on his lips. The taller of the two was both curious and waiting for the worst. First of all, as I said, Sebastian is definitely not heartbroken ! Or at least, he still thinks that there's a chance you might come back ! How do I know that ? Mate, you get Sallow, I get his best friend, the biggest gossip. Anyway. He's not heartbroken YET ! So you have to win him back !

-Win him back ? But I wasn't even dating him ! Wait a second, did you just say you're dating Gaunt- He was once again hushed by Garreth.

-It doesn't matter if you were dating or not, you obviously have feelings for him ! Leander became all red again, and the smaller boy looked at him baffled. You... Didn't know ?

-How could I have known ??

-I don't know, I'm not the one in your head !

-Well I wish you knew, so you could tell me what to do because apparently I've been doing it all fucking wrong !! Why would he even want me when there's such smarter people around him ?? People who won't say that he's unlovable and an asshole, I bet !"

Garreth was taken aback by his friend's sudden reaction and self depreciating words. Of course, he knew that Leander was very insecure at time, but he didn't expect him to be that bitter toward himself when it came to Sebastian.

Embarassed and ashamed by his outburst, Leander brought his long legs to his chest, and turned his head away from his friend so he wouldn't have to force him to look at his irritated and pained air. Garreth always was so happy go lucky, he'd hate to ruin his mood.

The smaller Gryffindor was worried for his best friend, he didn't think that it was this deep. How was he supposed to help make things better when Leander thought of himself as worthless ? Ah, he wasn't as smart as Lee said he was, because he couldn't think of anything right now.

"-Listen, Lee... I know you're hurt but... Come on, I'm sure he wants you back...

-For sure, he wants me to crawl back to him so he can laugh at how much I need him... His words were bitter, and Garreth didn't miss how his large hand passed on his face and subtly wiped away the little tears that were forming in his usually confident and happy brown eyes."

The curly haired boy didn't know what to say. He took his best friend's silence as his cue to leave. He knew that Leander liked to be alone during breakdowns, and so he left with a painful feeling straining his chest.

Hopefully tomorrow would be a better day.

----

I love Garreth. He's my soppy baby. I wish I could have him as a tiny person in my pocket, and when I'm happy I can hold him in my hands close to my heart. I wish I could drown and burn him too. That's how much I love him.

[fearofgodandtolkien]

Imagine the "Isekai all the TGAA peeps into the modern-day Ace Attorney" fanon storyline happens and everyone is meeting their ancestors and Herlock comes cartwheeling in like "why hello, my dear great-great-grandson! it's truly wonderful to meet my past-to-present prodigee!" and Apollo, Certified Normal Guy, is just like. "wh. what"

My toxic trait is I think Apollo should have more crazy backstories. Make him suffer.

[sanamains]

#𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 — 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮. an independent medical drama themed roleplay blog, featuring: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝗍𝗍, 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗒'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗒, and various original characters. — est. april 2025.

a study in: the duty of a healer, survivor's guilt, human temptations and connections, the deadly sins. ACTIVITY NOTICE: i work full time around 48-60 hours a week; therefore, my activity is low, i'm usually online a few hours a week. please bare in mind when you hit the lil' follow button. this blog is also a side passion project and it is not my main blog so i'll be on here even less. but rest assured, i will be and i will love every minutes of it. ♫.

○ inbox. ○ memes. ○ headcanons. ○ promo. ○

rules.

these are going to be really basic. first one is i only write with mutuals, and i'm selective about my mutuals. writing is a passion of mine and i expressive myself through it and i expect the same level of dedication from my writing partners.

i generally don't want my writing partners to be under the age of twenty-one, due to some dark themes that will be on this blog namely including: domestic violence, addiction, self harm, ptsd, medical trauma, character death. if you're a healthcare provider you know this is just the normal day to day, and i will not shy from drawing from my own work into my writing.

chemistry is shipping, and shipping is not just romance. i am obsessed with chosen family and best friend tropes in media, soulmates and everything in between. if you want to ship with my character please don't hesitate. i'm absolutely the most down to ship peson on the planet.

lastly, don't be an ass. i will hardblock you.

muses.

aurora ' rory ' jett. er nurse. ( original character - fc: lucy hale ) single mother, current addict. rory is what you call a high functioning addict, swapping out addictions and in complete denial over the fact that she is an alcoholic. she only attends NA, having used various other drugs in her teenage years. after escaping an abusive grooming situation as a minor, she started her life anew after she found out she was pregnant. ( though her ex is not the father - rory spent a few years meandering as a barista and sought validations through some very messy one night stands ) her daughter, now six years old, is the light of her life. primary.

john ' johnny ' grayson. emt. ( original character - fc: lucien laviscount ) closeted gay and filled with anger towards his father's untimely passing, his father, a young prodigee in law enforcement, rising in the ranks before dying in a shoot out when first responders couldn't stabilise him to get him to the hospital soon enough. and young johnny witnessed it, along with his sister mary. when he's not on shift he's picking up shifts as a bouncer at the local night life, and when he's not doing that, he's pummeling a lot of pent up feelings into a sandbag at the boxing gym. primary.

josephine ' jo ' wilson. obgyn resident. ( grey's anatomy canon divergent - fc: camilla luddington ) after the hell that had been the pandemic, jo had hit rock bottom. unhappy with her life and career, she chose herself, and chose joy, and adopted a little baby whose mother died giving birth to her and left seattle. she's now settled with her new life and her beautiful daughter, luna, who's also been recently diagnosed with progressive hearing loss. and jo does everything she knows how to adapt and be resilient. and create the life she knows she's always wanted for herself and her daughter. secondary.

trinity santos. em intern. ( isa briones ) the divisive troublemaker who stands out among her peers. trinity always stands out. all eyes are on her, and she realised she likes it that way. she must get the last move, last word, last laugh, and if she falls ? she takes it to the chin and keeps going. everything is carefully packed behind a carefully constructed wall of sarcasm and wit and muscles built from contact sport. and she'll be damned if anyone sees through it or even understands her. she's here to win. secondary.

test muses.

abigail langdon

mateo diaz

[gadguat]

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