#I am poise and grace and elegance

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello hello, could you please write something with ballet dancer/Thena and boxer/Gil pretty please?.

Gil had caught glimpses of her once or twice: the Swan, he called her (in the privacy of his own thoughts). She was long and lithe, elegant and graceful, pale and a little dangerous looking.

She taught the dance class in the studio space across the hall from him. He knew she taught because he'd seen her at the head of the room, keeping a deadly eye on them as they did their jumps and turns and shit that made his ankles hurt just by watching.

He'd caught her eyes once, and immediately ran straight into his own door in his distraction. He made an effort not to run into her for a while after that.

But she still taught across from him, seemingly everyday. Every day that he was there teaching his boxing classes, that was to say. The building was closed sundays anyway.

"See ya, Gil!"

"Night, guys!" he waved as the last of his pupils headed out. He groaned, untaping his knuckles and stretching out his back. He loved his job--he loved teaching, and he loved being his own boss especially. But he could still be glad it was saturday night.

He locked up, trying to build up some nerve. It was silly, really. He didn't even know the woman. But still, he felt nervous - in a giddy kind of way - whenever he thought of potentially seeing her again. Even if it was just through the glass walls of her studio.

She was still in there, despite everyone else being gone for the night. She actually seemed to be practising by herself. She was good, too--all smooth motions, long, thin arms and fingers waving through the air like feathers on wings.

"Shit!" Gil swore, seeing her suddenly drop out of view. He panicked, dropping his bag from his shoulder and pushing her door open. "Are you okay?!"

She was just fine. It was a move--or something. She turned to look at him from her spot on the floor, very strategically folded over herself. She raised an eyebrow at him.

Gil felt himself go red from the neck up. "Uh, s-sorry, I thought--I didn't-"

The Swan untangled herself and walked over to him, her music still playing in the background. Her long skirt swayed with the movement of her hips, like the branches of a willow in the breeze. "Falls are part of the choreography, from time to time."

"Right," Gil muttered, feeling nothing short of mortified. He looked out the door again, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry I interrupted-"

"It was sweet."

They'd spoken at the same moment, their words folding over each other. He blinked at her, suddenly paying more attention to brushing off the skirt over her white leotard. "It...it was?"

She lifted her head and gave him a faint smile, although it was still one hell of a smile when she was so pretty. "I do appreciate your concern."

"Well," Gil stuttered. He didn't want to admit that he'd had some creepy pseudo-crush on her from afar. That would be a great way to make her demand to change studio spaces, for sure.

"You're Gilgamesh?"

He looked at her, jaw open. She knew his name?

She cleared her throat. "The sign."

What?

"For your space?" she smiled again, clearly trying to suppress it in some way. It was probably something dancers had to do when they were being serious or whatever. But there was no way to hide that amazing a smile--no way. "It says 'Gilgamesh's boxing' on it?"

The studio plate. Of course. Gil twitched; why had he not looked at her studio plate?

"Mine just says Eternal Ballet Troupe 729," she was kind enough to tell him. "I head the classes for new recruits, though. I'm Thena."

"Wow." Why did he say that out loud? He knew he was still blushing, but that name on this woman... "I never get to see much, since our classes are always around the same time. But what I have seen--you're really good!"

The Swan tipped her head with an indulgent smile. She smoothed out her skirt again. "Thank you."

He couldn't be sure if it was the harsh studio lighting or if she was blushing a little. He wanted to know. He wanted to talk to her more. "Just Gil is fine, though. I teach classes monday-wednesday-friday, and of course tonight."

"My schedule is the same," she answered much more primly, but still smiling. "I've been curious about what a class of yours is like. I've spoken with Makkari before and she says you're a wonderful teacher."

"Ah," Gil laughed through his embarrassment, rubbing his sweaty palms together. "She's a great student. I guess I don't know enough about dancing--or ballet, really."

Thena accepted it in stride. "It is a rather specialised field. It takes a lifetime of dedication to get anywhere in it."

"I can only imagine," Gil nodded. He raised an eyebrow, "do you just teach the classes or do you do shows and stuff?"

"Sometimes I'll be called upon for a solo in an a show," she nodded. "I am a seasoned company member. Although..."

Gil raised his brows.

Thena's smile became almost mischievous, "I don't excel at partner work."

Something about the way she said it was almost flirtatious; Gil's hair stood on end. "That's, uh, pretty important, huh?"

"Hm," she nodded. "Much of ballet involves lifting, and I...am not always the most receptive to it."

Gil snorted in the middle of laughing. He was almost embarrassed by it, but Thena seemed charmed by the laughter. Maybe it was hard to have a good laugh when everyone around you was so serious. "I've never been lifted - I doubt it's possible - but it's probably not that fun."

"I suppose not." She laughed. It was just a little one, but it filled the room more than the tinny bluetooth speaker did.

He loved it. "Well, I guess if you, uh, need a lift-"

Thena's eyes caught the light, sparkling at him, "are you offering to dance with me?"

"No, I meant if you need a drive."

Thena let out full, complete, unhindered laugh. Her smile burst, exposing pearly teeth. Her head lulled back, and a stray wisp of hair escaped her tight bun.

He was in love with her. Goddammit.

She calmed eventually, touching the pads of her fingers to the corners of her eyes to mind her makeup. "Are all boxers funny?"

"Are all ballerinas cute?"

Well, no going back now. Thena's smile shifted to something almost shy again, her hand raising to tuck back hair that was still pulled back already. "So...a lift?"

Gil's chest swelled, "dancing or driving?"

Thena drifted back into the studio just a step, her hands clasped behind her, "which do you have time for?"

He had all the time in the world for her. He walked in after her, completely forgetting his gym bag out in the hall, and his eagerness to get off his feet. "You're the one offering to teach me how to dance, how much time do you got?"

Thena reached out, positioning him herself. He caught a glimpse of one more smile, "all the time in the world."

[your-local-simp-writers]

Threads of Gratitude

Word Count: 478

Warnings: None

Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

In the elegant quarters of Pomefiore, where beauty reigned supreme, you sat across from Vil Schoenheit, the dorm leader known for his impeccable standards and grace. The task at hand was a delicate one, requiring both creativity and dexterity: crafting friendship bracelets that would embody the essence of your bond.

Vil, with his usual poise, selected strands of silk thread in hues that matched the Pomefiore colors—purples and golds that shimmered in the light.  “Remember, it’s not just about the aesthetic,” Vil instructed. “Each color, each bead, must have meaning. It should speak of the bond it represents.”

You nodded, your fingers fumbling slightly with the tiny beads. “I want mine to say ‘grateful’,” you said, concentrating on threading the beads onto the string. “Because that’s what I am for our friendship.”

Vil looked up from his work, his gaze appraising. “Grateful is a good choice,” he agreed. “It speaks of depth and understanding.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of beads and the occasional snip of scissors. You both worked in comfortable silence, the shared task creating an intimate atmosphere that was new to your friendship with Vil.

After a while, Vil broke the silence. “You have a steady hand,” he observed, watching as you tied a knot. “It’s essential for beauty. Precision is everything.”

You laughed, a little self-consciously. “I’m not sure about precision, but I’m doing my best.”

Vil’s lips quirked up in a rare, genuine smile. “And that is all one can ask for,” he said. “Perfection is not about the absence of flaws, but the effort to rise above them.”

As you both finished your bracelets, you couldn’t help but admire Vil’s work. His was flawless, each bead perfectly aligned, each knot tight and secure. It was a reflection of him—meticulous and beautiful.

“Here,” Vil said, as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. “A perfect fit,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on the bracelet. “A token of our friendship.”

You exchanged bracelets, and as Vil fastened the one you made onto his wrist, you felt a surge of pride. It might not have been perfect, but it was made with sincerity and care. Vil’s bracelet for you was exquisite, each knot and bead placed with precision and care. Yours, while not as flawless, was made with equal parts love and admiration.

“Thank you, Vil,” you said, feeling the weight of the bracelet on your wrist. “This means a lot to me.”

Vil nodded, his eyes softening. “And to me as well. We are, after all, reflections of those we hold dear.”

In that moment, with the sun setting outside and the room aglow with the golden light, you realized that the true beauty of your friendship wasn’t just in the shared interests or the laughter—it was in the moments like these, quiet and sincere, that you would treasure forever.

[dellalyra]

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

pixie says: this is my first foray into writing for genshin but neuvilette is too pretty to ignore and if you notice i am writing for another tall man with white hair no you didn’t.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine was an elusive man. Aloof, serious, logical. The air of grace and elegance that flowed from his body and being put the most beautiful of swans to shame. The way he carried himself with such poise and dignity, made it clear why he was so very respected throughout Fontaine. His air of unattainability was echoed by the ever polite, kind-yet-distant way he interacted with others. That, and the obvious - that level of otherworldly beauty. It was what first struck the traveller upon meeting Neuvilette - such beautiful features, graceful and sharp like the man himself. Hair as white as freshly fallen snow with those odd blue horns (it became quite clear to the traveller that they were horns - since there was no way in Celestia that the Iudex was not the Hydro Dragon).

Yet - that day, at the grave of Navia’s father - it was clear as day that there was a deep, painful, lingering sadness in those beautiful eyes.

Lumine hoped he wasn’t alone.

The life of a dragon can be a lonely one.

An invite to dinner had arrived for Paimon and Lumine, from Navia - a thank you for their help during the trial. Following the etiquette she had been picking up on in each nation, it was customary to bring a gift to the host in Fontaine which lead her to wandering the streets in search of a florist. Lumine may have been very adept at gathering flowers and plants - however floristry arrangements were never a skill an intergalactic traveler and the sword of Teyvat had ever picked up on.

The pale blue front of the flower shop was immaculately painted and decorated with gilded lettering ‘la gueule de loup’ - which according to Paimon meant Snapdragon.

What an odd name, she hadn’t seen a single snapdragon in Fontaine.

“Bonsoir! If you need any assistance, please let me know!” A cheerful voice echoed from the door behind the cream counter.

“Hello! We would like to buy a bouquet please!” Paimon responded - ever the duo’s spokesperson.

At that, a woman in a pale pink apron came around the corner. Hair haphazardly pulled up atop her head secured with a pencil and a dark blue ribbon - a cream, soft blouse tucked into a dark blue layered skirt atop white stockings and navy and gold boots, a n embroidered blazer sat atop a chair which matched the woman’s skirt. She smiled brightly at the pair in front of her - and Lumine’s breath hitched when the shining tone of her eyes caught the evening sunlight, an otherworldly quality to her aura.

“A bouquet? Well, good thing you’re in a flower shop! I might have some flowers we could piece together!” She said, giggling as she gestured to the sea of flowers engulfing the store.

Paimon smiled and laughed and Lumine followed suit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lumine and Paimon - I was hoping I would get to run into you soon.” She said as she collected a basket to gather her supplies.

“You know us?” Paimon asks.

“Sweetheart, I think everyone in Teyvat knows you. The brave and beautiful outlander and her clever guide. However, my husband was in attendance at the most recent magic show and trial - so I became privy to all of the inside scoop.” She smiled.

“You did not attend? I thought all of Fontaine was there.” Lumine spoke up.

“Ah, I tend to not get involved with the trials, I am delivered a rundown of the days events in the evenings. Yet I have been to several of the twins magic shows, such fantastic entertainment! I do love them so. Such gentle children, too, Lyney and Lynette.” The woman’s eyes lit up and an air of an excited child permeated her face. Lumine quirked a brow at the woman calling the twins ‘children’ for she looked no older than 25.

“Now! What’s the occasion?” Hands placed on her hips, the woman smiled at the travellers.

“Miss Navia asked us to dinner this evening, and we’ve been told a gift is a Fontainian custom.” Paimon speaks.

“Ah! Well, for Miss Navia you will need some clematis - her favourites. Edelweiss for courage, which you have both shown in the past few weeks. Hydrangeas for understanding - blue, I think. Iris for trust. Nasturtiums for victory. Rosemary for scent and also for remembrance of her dearest father, with some added sweet pea as a thank for you a lovely time.” The woman says, mostly to herself as she wanders the store - quickly picking up bunches of flowers from the jars in which they lay. Paimon and Lumine’s eyes were wide as if the woman spoke in tongues.

“Wow! I didn’t even know flowers could mean all that! Lyney only told us a few! You sure know your stuff, Mrs. Florist!” Paimon squealed, amazed.

The woman threw her head back in laughter.

“Y/N is fine, sweethearts. A book could be told in flowers alone. Flowers are nothing but truth, they exist for beauty and healing - and I admire them greatly.”

“You knew Miss Navia’s father?” Lumine asks, gentle voice contrasting Paimon’s outburst.

“I knew him well. A very good man, loyal endlessly and thought of Navia as his entire world. A life taken too soon in protection of his child - I lay flowers on his grave every month, mortal lives are so fragile - they must be treated with respect, no matter the circumstances.” She says, hands deftly manoeuvring the flowers into a piece of sponge.

Lumine quirked a brow.

“Mortal?”

“A state in which neither of us reside, Miss Lumine.” The woman responds with a wink and a smile.

It was logical that Lumine was not mortal, yet the explanation of this woman before her also not being so seemed to make many things far more understandable.

Just then, a patter of footsteps outside the store came trotting in through the front door.

“Mama!” A small voice called.

“Liath! Hello, sweetling!” The woman pauses her arranging and comes around the counter and leans down. Lumine spins and expects to see a child - perhaps with the florists hair.

What she didn’t expect was a Melusine.

“Papa wishes to know if you’d like to have a picnic together this evening, when he is finished at the Palais.” She asks, picking a small rose and placing it in her mother’s hair.

“Tell him that sounds wonderful, I am closing the shop soon and I meet him at the office. Thank you, Liath. Come here, let me fix your ribbon.” Y/N smiles and adjust the ribbon on the lapel of the melusine’s lapel.

“Thank you, mama. Bye bye!” She says, kissing her on the cheek and skipping out the door.

“Mama?” Lumine asks.

“Ah - not biologically. Yet, my and my husband’s nature has led us to a parental standing with the melusine’s. They are all our children, regardless of what soil they grew from.” She says, wrapping up the bouquet in a swathe of blue ribbons. Lumine wonders if by nature, did she mean they were both parental figures by nature or something to do with her not-mortal being. Perhaps her husband also was not human.

Lumine decided to press on the matter no more. Everyone deserved their privacy, after all.

“Et, voila! One bouquet for Miss Navia.” Y/N says, handing the bouquet to the traveler.

“How much do we owe you?” Lumine smiles, the bouquet truly was something exquisite, a talented woman indeed.

“Nonsense, lovely. You have done Fontaine a great service, consider this a small thank you. Miss Lumine, please take these peony roses also - they are a symbol of happiness, which you make me as I have heard you show great kindness to all of my children, for which I am so very grateful. For you, Madame Paimon, some purple Iris - meaning respect and intelligence for the Outlander’s clever guide.” She hands them all of the flowers, and winks at Lumine when she addresses Paimon, knowing that such words would fill the floating pixie with glee. True enough, Paimon squeals and dives to hug the woman who chuckles and kisses her cheek.

“Thank you so so much, Miss Y/N! We love them so much - Lumine, you could put it in your hair with your Inteyvat! I’ll put mine under my tiara, then we can match!” Lumine smiles and does as suggested.

“May I ask where you are meeting Miss Navia?” Y/N asks.

“Café Lucerne, however I’m not quite sure where that is.” Lumine responds.

“Ah! Well then I can walk you, if you wish?”

Just as she speaks, the door opens with a jungle of the bell as Lumine secured the flower in her hair she sees Y/N smile and walk around the counter.

“Hello, mon ange. I thought I was meeting you at the Palais.” Ah, must be her husband, Lumine thinks and she sees Paimon turn and freeze.

“Mon trésor, I am taking you on a picnic so it is only right that I collect you myself.” The deep rumble of a voice makes Lumine freeze too.

“YOUR HUSBAND IS MONSIEUR NEUVILETTE?!” Comes a squeal from Paimon.

Lumine spins on her heel and sees the owner of the familiar voice. Y/N’s hand is pressed to the far taller man’s cheek in a tender display of affection she would not have associated with the Chief Justice.

The gentle smile on the man’s face as he looks at his wife with such love is one she figures the melusine’s learned from him.

“Miss Lumine, Miss Paimon. A pleasure to see you. I see you have met the Madame Neuvilette.” He nods his head toward them.

“MADAME NEUVILETTE?!” Paimon seems on the verge of a meltdown at this information.

“Indeed. Apologies, I got so caught up in making such a wonderful bouquet I didn’t even introduce myself properly. Do forgive my lack of manners.” She says, turning and removing her apron as she begins to shut down the store for the evening.

Everything clicked into place just then.

The wife of the hydro dragon would hardly be a mortal woman. She mentioned the Palais, his attendance at both the magic show and the trial and of course the melusine’s would view the hydro dragon as their father.

The logical side of it all did little to curb the shock of seeing the intimidating Ludex and Hydro Dragon of Fontaine, the man who had taken out Childe with a simple slap being so gentle and enamoured in the face of his wife.

They way they looked at each other - that level of love had been a rare delight to find across her journey. Perhaps in how Zhongli spoke of Guizhong or Cyno and Tighnari - or how that certain someone looked at her and she at them…

“Neuv, we must show Lumine and Paimon to Café Lucerne on our way to our picnic.” Y/N says, ushering them all from the store before locking the door behind her.

The walk was short, as pleasantries were exchanged and Paimon and Y/N did most of the talking in the wake of the quiet counterparts.

“And here we are! I do hope you have a wonderful evening. My regards to Miss Navia. Do come and visit again soon, I would love to exchange tales of adventures!” Y/N smiles, before pressing a kiss to each cheek of the two outlanders.

“Indeed, the melusine’s speak very highly of you both - you must forgive the children if they become over zealous.” Neuvilette adds with a fond smile.

“Au revoir, enjoy your meal!” Y/N says, grasping her husbands arm and smiling at him. Lumine looks at them walk away toward the aquabus station entrance.

She could not quite believe her eyes when she sees the hydro dragon press a large pale hand to the smooth, undisturbed lower belly of his wife.

The sunset brightened ever so slightly.

Fontaine surely was full of surprises.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Gene Tierney (Laura, The Ghost and Mrs Muir, Leave Her to Heaven)— The class, the elegance. The way she walks into frame and immediately all focus is on her. She had a pretty lengthy struggle with mental health that she describes in her book, which I think made her all the more sensitive in portraying characters like in leave her to heaven. Also she dumped JFK so

Moira Shearer (The Red Shoes)— Moira Shearer is one of the most awe-inspiring dancers ever put to screen. Watching her performance in 'The Red Shoes' changed my fucking life. When I saw her in 'Peeping Tom' it was one of the most anxiety-inducing experiences I've ever had watching a film. Moira Shearer was not only an actress who can make you feel, she's an actress who can make you feel *desperately afraid* for her. An all-time favourite for horror, dance, and just her /presence/, man.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Gene Tierney:

The entire plot of Laura is that a guy has to become completely obsessed with a woman after just seeing her portrait. This only works because Gene was cast in the role. I 10000% believe anyone could fall in love after seeing her face.

Those eyes! Just look at those eyes! She’s at her hottest in Leave Her To Heaven— I literally want her to ruin my life.

Absolute grade-A babe, she is the perfection incarnate.

Gene Tierney was beautiful, poised, intense. I associate her with roles where she was murderous or an intelligent woman being patronized to - like a woman on the edge! As far as I am concerned, she deserved to do whatever she wanted.

She had a slight overbite which was amazingly sexy, and a throaty voice that was very memorable as well. She’s terrific in Laura, which reminds me I should watch it again.

EYES!! Her diabolical acting in Leave Her to Heaven is just perfect, Rosamund Pike definitely took notes for her Gone Girl from her.

Oscar-nominated and simply one of the most beautiful women to ever walk this Earth.

Absolutely stunning. In Leave Her to Heaven, she reaches Rosamund-Pike-in-Gone-Girl levels of “holy fucking shit?!?!?!” She had a fling with JFK in the ‘40s and also dated the exes of Rita Hayworth and Hedy Lamarr (Prince Aly Khan and W. Howard Lee, respectively). Sadly, her daughter was born with a disability (during a time in which there were few good mainstream options for disabled children and their parents), likely because of a fan who was sick with measles and went out of her way to meet Tierney (who was pregnant) anyway. Topical! Sure would be good if people stayed home when they were sick! Anyway, she was also a Republican, which sucks. Laura and Leave Her to Heaven are great viewing though.

Moira Shearer:

[editor's note: if your TWs include death, body horror, or general freaky stuff, go forward with caution with the videos. Enjoy!]

Scottish flame-haired professional ballerina who made a successful move into films with ballet classic "The Red Shoes" and several other films. The best way to convey her beauty and grace is to see her in motion so gifsets are attached.

Gifset 1

Gifset 2

Gifset 3

Please check her out as Olympia in The Tales of Hoffmann, it's one of my favourite examples of automata ballet and she's so awesome in it

Her performance in 'The Red Shoes' (if you ever have the opportunity to see this on the big screen, TAKE IT.)

[scintilla-angel]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭:

Every day, as I see myself in the mirror, I am filled with admiration for my striking attractiveness. I think to myself how attractive I am. I am breathtakingly beautiful and possess irresistible charm. My appearance is flawless and captivating, with features that radiate perfection. I am the epitome of physical allure, turning heads and leaving a lasting impression wherever I go. People are enchanted by my stunning looks and impeccable style. I am confident in my stunning physique and exude effortless elegance. My flawless skin, striking eyes, and alluring smile make me the center of attention. My face and body are perfectly harmonious. I embrace my physical beauty and feel empowered by my magnetic presence. I am a vision of grace and sophistication, embodying the essence of beauty. My self-concept is centered on my striking appearance, and I am deeply in love with my stunning reflection. I confidently embrace my physical attractiveness and carry myself with poise and confidence.

[leoramage]

competition + part one

⊹ masterlist ⊹ taglist ⊹

⊹⊱ trigger warning - [being shady af, slandering, tune in for plot twist!]

⊹⊱ theme - [social media au]

⊹⊱ pairings - [ex!mick schumacher x thai beauty queen!y/n x ?]

⊹⊱ face claim - anntonia porsild

⊹⊱ keywords - [rumours. "i promise that you'll never find another like me." emotional scars trope. "you're talking shit for the hell of it." girl fight. "anything you can do, i do better." bitterness and envy. "who do you think you are? are you better than me - no."]

INSTAGRAM

mickschumacher posted a story and a photo

liked by pierregasly, estebanocon and others

mickschumacher 🤍

truemickfan Wait, did I miss a whole season? Mick and Y/N were just together during Miami Grand Prix, and how's he's all cozy with someone new? 😳

estebanocon 😍😍

⊳ racedaydreamer estie bestie, explain what happened to my parents! 😭

⊳ speeddemonette I AM DISAPPOINTED BARFING, CRYING, HAVING SEIZURES RIGHT NOW!

mickfanatic Is it just me or does anyone else feel like Mick moved on way too quickly? Y/N is not just a casual fling!

micksupporter YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH Y/N WAS ALMOST 4 YEARS MICK! 😭 4 YEARS!

gridgirlgossip Goodbye, I am sending you my therapy bills.

cornercruiser #downgradeofthecentury

NEWS FEED

TWITTER

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The night was alive with the glow of twinkling stars, casting their silvery light over the event you had just finished hosting the glamorous charity event, Your radiant smile never left your face as you effortlessly guided the evening. The applause echoed through the grand hall, and for a moment, you felt like the world was yours as you were dressed in elegance and grace, embodying beauty and poise like no other, leaving behind a trail of flashing cameras and clinking glasses. But as you retreated backstage, reality caught up with you.

Your phone buzzed insistently in your hand, a notification lighting up the screen. You anticipated it to be a congratulatory message, a reminder of your brilliance on stage. Instead, it was a photo that sent shards of pain through your heart.

Mick.

There he was, smiling broadly, his lips on her cheek and an arm wrapped around a woman – you realized who she was – the Instagram model whose presence had been splashed across tabloids and gossip sites recently but whose ingenue beauty was unmistakable.

Your heart sank as you realized the truth: he had moved on like you and him never happened.

3 years of being with him – going 4 years – all thrown aside like a trash.

You were with him, in his ups and downs.

You were there when he lost his F1 seat.

You were there when he questioned his ability...

His talent...

His whole being...

And the pressure of him being the racing prodigy after his father.

You were there when Mercedes took him in and welcomed him as a reserve driver. You celebrated late at night and cuddled by the flame drinking beers while Coldplay plays on the background. It feels like home to be with him but...

Where could have you possibly lacked that he found another one so easily within two months?

Were you that ugly?

Were you that unworthy?

Were you that replaceable?

Were you not enough?

The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring your vision as you crumbled into a chair. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the deafening silence of your pain echoing in your ears. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you – hurt, confusion, and an undeniable sense of loss.

He said that he won't break your heart, let alone shed tears because of him. Yet here you are, a sobbing mess because he found a replacement 2 months fresh after your break up.

You hated him. No... You loathed yourself that you've ended up this way with your heart and soul. Yet a part of you feels guilty and loves him despite letting you burn yourself in the process. He said he'll protect you but...

He had set fire and left you alone - sacrificed yourself for your ever-unsalvageable relationship.

It simply costs you. Your being.

You lost yourself so that he could find himself.

You didn't know what happened. One day he wasn't the Mick you knew.

He changed that was all.

It felt like a betrayal, a stark reminder that he had moved on while you were still grappling with the aftermath of your breakup. The break had been raw, an ache that had haunted you since the day you parted ways. Two months had passed, yet the wound was far from healed. The emotions you had been pouring up for weeks seemed to return like an overflooded river, and the dam you had so carefully constructed - every week you put on a brave smile and face the world - finally crumbled once again.

You completely lost him.

Amid the tears and the sobs, you allowed to release the anguish that was held back. It was as if the universe had given you permission to feel, to mourn, and to heal.

You clung to your friends, letting their unwavering support become your lifeline, traversing the caverns of your own heart. Your friends rushed to your side, their faces filled with concern.

And a new familair guy was there too, like a true friend. He knelt in front of you, his big copper eyes locking onto yours. "Y/N," he whispered, "I'm so sorry... You don't deserve this." The sobs wracked your body as you buried your face in your hands before he pulled you into an embrace that lulled your lamenting and already ravaged heart. But the pain was too raw. It was misery that had been festering for two long months, a pain you had hidden behind your dazzling smile.

You thought you were fine, that you were strong enough to handle seeing Mick with someone new. But in that moment, all your strength crumbled. It felt like your heart had been ripped out and stomped on.

His hand grazed your back with your face buried in his chest, his voice was low but soft but filled with empathy. "He doesn't deserve you, Y/N." His accent was thick upon whispering in your ear, feeling bad that you had to go through this.

As you cried, you realized that the pain wasn't just about Mick. It was about the weight of expectations, the pressure to always appear strong, and the fear of being alone. It was about the depression that had been silently eating away at you.

You had been wearing a mask for so long, pretending to be okay when you weren't. It manifested from you losing weight, skipping meals and even your sleeping schedule had been hell. And now, in this moment of vulnerability, you felt like you were breaking free from that suffocating facade.

He whispered soothing words, reminding you that you were loved and that your worth wasn't defined by a relationship.

As the tears continued to flow, you realized that healing would take time. But for the first time in months, you felt like you were ready to take on the path to recovery. The pain was real and there was nothing for you to do but it shouldn't be stopping you.

You promised that you would be stronger than you had ever known.

TWITTER

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Morning aftermath...

As the morning sun filtered through your window, you found yourself still wrapped in the cocoon of sleep, the weight of last night's breakdown lingering like a heavy fog. But as your phone began to buzz with notifications, reality swiftly came crashing back. Friends had texted you, their words a mix of concern and reassurance.

"Hey, just wanted to let you know that there's a tweet going around. We're here for you, always." — F/N1

"Some fan or paparazzi sent a picture of you crying backstage last night to a Twitter account. They're all with you. We are always here for you, Y/N." — F/N2

You sighed, sitting up and staring at your phone. It didn't take long to locate the tweet they were referring to – a photo of you, vulnerable and raw, with your friends surrounding you to comfort you. The tweet had gained traction overnight, becoming a symbol of empathy and support from fans all over...

As you scrolled through the replies, you were taken aback by the outpouring of compassion. Fans of both Mick and yours had come together, expressing their concern and sending well wishes. The sight of your shared pain resonated with many, they felt upset for you over a single Instagram post of Mick that drew out all the vitality in you last night.

With a sigh, you knew you couldn't remain in bed all day, wallowing in the events of the past night. You were stronger than that, and you owed it to yourself and your supporters to show them that you were okay. Taking a deep breath, you decided to update your fans through an Instagram story.

You snapped a picture of yourself, the gentle sunlight casting a warm glow on everything it touched. Typing out a caption, you chose your words carefully.

With a sense of purpose, you tapped the post button. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a step forward. The response was immediate – an influx of messages, hearts, and encouraging words flooded your inbox. Each notification felt like a virtual hug, a reminder that you were not alone on this journey.

INSTAGRAM

yourusername posted a story • 4 mins ago

seen by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 962,820 others.

Later that day...

As the sun began its slow descent, you found yourself deep in thought, your mind weaving through possibilities and aspirations. The idea had taken root within you, a flicker of determination that refused to be extinguished. You wanted to show the world that you were more than just a single pageant title or relationship and that your journey was far from over.

The world felt a little brighter, and the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter.

With a sense of purpose, you reached for your phone, your fingers dancing over the keys as you composed a message to your pageant coach, RL Duangkong. Your journey to a bigger goal is just about to start.

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Author's Note: THIS POST HAD BEEN UPLOADED WAY TO SEVERAL TIMES THAT I ALMOST LOST PATIENCE. The effort I poured onto this fic is ungodly. Which is why I appreciate smau!writers out there. I was having an internal monologue on how the lines would be distributed properly. I honestly loved making this - it is such a challenge and a struggle to be fair. Please do not repost or take the edited pictures without my consent. Some media in this post are mine and it's hard to do photoshopping/photo manipulation. Any kind of support is appreciated as I continue writing as long as I keep dreaming. Until then, stay updated for part 2! 𔘓ฅ[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]𔘓ฅ

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created by the user in response to a creative writing prompt. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or entities, whether living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters, events, and dialogue portrayed in this fanfiction are products of the user's imagination and are not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or trademarks associated with the Formula One sport or any real-life individuals. This fanfiction is solely intended for entertainment purposes, and the author acknowledges that the depicted scenarios are not endorsed, authorized, or supported by any official Formula One entities or the individuals mentioned.

[ravenelyx]

Cobwebs - Sebastian Sallow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 2k

Chapter Warnings: jealousy, light angst/angst if you squint, fluff, Sebastian's comfort food is corn apparently idk, suggestive (barely)

Summary: When a festival in your hometown causes you to dress up with medieval clothes, dance and act, Sebastian couldn't be happier and more proud - until he realises you will have a partner through all of it. And the partner is not him.

A/N: for the Sallow Sunday challenge !! I'm late in my country but it's still Sunday somewhere - inspired by a festival I went to today (literally came back at 1 am and wrote this: it's currently 5 am)

Masterlist

You can find the whole fanfiction also here on ao3

Sebastian had woken up with the biggest grin on his face. A rare occurrence, really, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wipe it off his mouth.

Because today, apparently, was special.

He had been waiting for two weeks since his girlfriend had told him the news: at first Sebastian didn't really understand her ardour, but the delighted expression on her face was enough to propel the boy to match the enthusiasm completely.

There was a festival in her hometown: a celebration that, for one reason or another, had been impossible to arrange for about ten years. It was her favourite, she had said, because of its theme — a living re-enactment of old times, with dances and traditional clothing from her home — even more so now that she was chosen to be one of the people who was supposed to parade as an extra.

She was to wear a beautiful medieval tunic, and had to attend rehearsals everyday. As much as Sebastian wished to follow her there to see her hard work, she insisted that she wanted to keep it a surprise for when he finally saw her at the fest.

He had sulked a bit at that moment, but had been since then looking forward to seeing his beautiful girlfriend in an amazing dress.

He stood in the front row, having arrived early just to earn a perfect spot to bask in her splendid beauty ringside as soon as she came, and patiently waited for her to appear, nodding his head to the folklore music in the meantime. When the parade started, his body shook all over in anticipation, standing on his toes, eyes darting everywhere to catch a glimpse of his beloved.

And she was perfect.

Hair cascading in little twirls locked in a beautiful braid on her shoulder, adorned with a headband on the crown of her head, she smiled brightly, her lips shining with clear gloss. Her face was still natural-looking, with makeup that matched her features and made her look even more ethereal, and her green bliaut hugged her figure in ways that left little to Sebastian's imagination as his jaw fell open. It was tight at the waist, her corset even harsher around her flank under the kirtle, and adorned with a brown cincture knotted around her abdomen. Her only exposed parts were her cleavage, from which Sebastian could see a peak of her chemise, and her wrists, where the gown widened slightly. She moved with elegance and poise, careful to mind each graceful motion of her arm as she walked, and Sebastian felt his cheeks hurt with how wide his smile was,  almost tearing at the corners of his mouth.

A smile that fell as soon as his eyes darted away from her gorgeous figure.

The parade consisted of couples dressed in different ways, only interrupted here and there by close groups of musicians who accompanied them, and as such, she was on another's arm as she moved.

And, Sebastian noticed, he was very handsome — much more handsome than he was, with his chiseled jawline and elegant walk. He held her arm carefully as they walked together, chin up and perfectly in line, straight posture and measured walk. It was clear he had rehearsed for a long time.

And he had rehearsed with her.

Sebastian felt something sour and ghastly bubble in his stomach when they finally stopped. She turned to the man next to her, and he bowed gallantly at the waist before taking her hand in his.

The dance started. The musicians moved to the side, while the couples took their place in the midst of the plaza, moving from side to side at the fast paced rhythm of folklore music. When she went forward, he did the same, arms bending to meet. And then they stepped away together, extending their arms all the same, hands never separating. The steps of their frolic echoing in Sebastian's ears, thundering in his brain at the ease and preparation with which the couple moved together. She twirled in the man's arms, taking a step back and then twirled again on the opposite side, and Sebastian’s hands began to shake. Their manoeuvres were so measured, so controlled they must have rehearsed a lot. They must have spent a lot of time together to perfect it. Hours and hours, days of days of his beloved dancing with another man.

Panic seeped its way into his core: What if those days of rehearsal had awoken something in her? Something that made her realise that the man dancing with her was better than Sebastian in every way?

He didn't dare go further with his thoughts… but what if…

The crowd cheered, pulling Sebastian from his reverie, and he looked at her. And she was looking at him, too, wearing a bright smile, eyes shining as she silently asked him what he thought. Her forehead glistened a bit with sweat, a sign of her hard work, and Sebastian forced a smile on his face, nodding at her. She nodded back and turned to the man again.

A new dance began.

-

She had been on that man's arm most of the night, entertaining kids and adults all the same, dancing with him once a new folklore song started, and even re-enacting some play scenes along with the other extras.

Sebastian was left watching, embittered by the sight so much that, at some point, he had to completely avoid said sight.

Whenever he saw a glimpse of her beautiful figure, he would turn around and go into another alley, hoping to find some solace in the street food he had been shamelessly indulging in since the fest started.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" The man in front of him asked Sebastian at some point, after the brunet had visited his corn stand at least three times. "I can't give you another cob."

Sebastian scowled, but he had to admit the man was right. His stomach couldn't take it anymore.

"My girlfriend… she…" Sebastian began, kicking the dirt while the man stirred a huge cauldron of maize porridge. "She looks absolutely gorgeous today…"

"I hardly see how that's something to be concerned about," the man lifted an eyebrow. "Has the corn gone to your head? Why isn't your mesmerising girlfriend on your arm?"

"Because she's on another's arm," Sebastian blurted out, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "And I can't do anything about it!"

A beat of silence followed. Sebastian bit his lip harshly, while the man seemed to understand the situation. He handed the brunet another cob. "Maybe you do need another."

Sebastian's shoulders slumped and he took up the offer, defeated, biting on the warm kernels. "It's just…" he spoke, voice muffled by his full mouth as he moved the cob around frustratingly. "Today was supposed to be a celebration, and instead I'm here with you and those damn cobs!"

He took another bite and the man sighed. "Just go find her is my advice. You're a handsome lad, and the dress up time has been over for a while I reckon, so she can be yours for the rest of the night."

"What if she doesn't want to be?" The words left Sebastian's lips without hesitation. "He's much more handsome than I am! Maybe she's even… they're even…"

He didn't want to think about it, the idea making the back of his eyes sting a little.

"If she was, why would she invite you?" The man shrugged. "And don't finish that corn, you hear me? Give it to her before your stomach gives up on your body more than you've given up on your dignity."

Sebastian grimaced at the man's harsh words, but he could feel his stomach grumble in protest and he knew he was right. He reluctantly let his now-comfort food lay at his side in his hand, and he made his way through the decorated alleys, dragging his feet like some chained torture was pulling at him.

Maybe it was good if he found her — just to give her his corn, that was. It would have been a shame to waste it.

"Seb! Where were you?" She asked in concern once his legs came to a stop in the plaza. "You weren't at the plays. I just… did you not like them?" She asked, voice feeble and unsure, and Sebastian felt his stomach twist as he realised he'd failed her once again.

"I… got you corn," he retorted weakly, handing her the half-eaten cob.

She took it with a frown, and then she met his eyes with disbelief. "You ate corn all this time?"

Sebastian blushed deeply, before his chest turned cold again at the sight of the man standing behind her.

"You were with him all this time?" He asked caustically, shifting his weight on his leg and crossing his arms defensively.

She was at a loss for words. "What— are you serious right now?"

"Very much."

"He's my partner!" She claimed, raising her voice, the cob in her hands swinging dangerously.

"No!" He snapped, unwinding his arms and taking a step closer. "I am your partner!"

She gasped a few times, unable to retort as she saw the look on his face. He wasn't angry, despite his deep frown and lips pressed together. He was hurt.

"Sebastian," she sighed, stepping closer. "It's just a festival…"

"You danced with him," he responded, the heat radiating from her body making his resolve crumble. "You must have rehearsed a lot."

"Yes, for the festival." The hand that wasn't holding the cob of corn came to lay on his cheek, and he melted in her touch.

"Still, I didn't like the way he looked at you!" He hissed, gesticulating sharply, trying to restrain himself from pacing back and forth as he usually did. "You look gorgeous and…"

"Sebastian… he's married," she sighed, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on his cheekbone, "and he's like… five years older than me."

Sebastian was quiet at that, a small blush coming to rest on his ears when he realised. "So… well married men can… I mean…"

"Not him… trust me," she chuckled, now so close she could bump her nose to his. "Besides," she smiled, amused. "It's a small town, and he's my cousin."

Sebastian gasped, mouth falling open at the revelation. How stupid could he be? He had been sulking the entire evening, missing her plays and hard work just because… because…

"Were you jealous?" She asked, nuzzling his cheek.

Because he was jealous.

"I… I…" he stuttered. "I might have been… eating more corn than necessary."

She laughed against his skin, and he smiled fondly at the sound.

"Yes, I imagined that," she said, handing the cob to her cousin and taking Sebastian's hand in hers, guiding him through the alleys. "But no more corn now."

Sebastian frowned, confusion evident on his features, and she smiled at his face as she got a bundle of keys from the aumoniere hanging from her belt.

"It's my family home," she explained, "and it's empty."

She pulled him inside once she opened the door, immediately wrapping her arms around his neck once he was close enough.

"I'm just…" he began, feeling like it wouldn't be right to do anything without apologising for his behaviour. "I'm sorry I missed your plays," he whispered, feeling guiltier than ever as her lips pressed on his skin tenderly. "I should have valued you more…"

"You've seen the first two ones," she smiled and pressed another kiss on his jaw. "Last two were boring anyway."

"Still, I should have enjoyed them," he protested, returning her kisses. "And your dress, too… you look so beautiful… so…"

"Well… dress up time is over," she whispered, mouth hovering his. "Care to help me with that?"

Sebastian let out a low chuckle at that, smirking against her lips. "Oh, I'm so going to enjoy that."

He pushed his arm back and pressed his palm on the door, closing it loudly behind him.

[i-draws-dinosaurs]

do you have a favorite herbi and carni dinosaur? (specific genus or family group)

Favourite carnivorous dinosaur is easy, Sinosauropteryx prima!

It's been my favourite dinosaur of all time for ages, because it represents such an incredible leap forward in our scientific understanding of dinosaurs! It was the first dinosaur described with fossilised feathers (that wasn't considered basically a bird already)!

If that wasn't enough, years later it's one of the only extinct dinosaurs whose colours are almost entirely known! It was an earthy red-brown, with white stripes on its tail and a black "bandit mask" on its face. So, basically an Early Cretaceous red panda.

(art by Gabriel Ugueto)

As for herbivorous dinosaurs, I don't really have a definitive favourite. There's such a huge variety of them, but personally I am always very fond of ceratopsians and sauropods, which I think are just absolutely beautiful creatures.

Out of the ceratopsians I love the chasmosaurini, with their enormous frills and horns and such, and am specifically very fond of Anchiceratops for its apparently weirdly long neck.

But there's a bunch of ceratopsians that I really love, like Pentaceratops, Einiosaurus, Zuniceratops, Udanoceratops, and Styracosaurus.

As for sauropods, the ones I love to see the most are titanosaurs because I find their long upward-sloping backs and necks especially graceful, and it amazes me that The Largest Animals ever walk on land also held themselves with such poise and elegance.

(Dreadnoughtus by Mark Witton)

One thing I notice going through my list of favourite dinosaurs, is how few of them I've actually drawn! Aside from Anchiceratops the art here isn't mine, and it's weird that I haven't drawn much of these guys who I find so beautiful to look at!

Also, feel free to add on to this with your own favourite dinosaurs! Can be carnivores, herbivores, omnivores, whatever!

[swmmi-kti]

One of a kind

Pairing: Kokushibo x Reincarnated Fem!Y/n

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When he was still human he had found life boring and stale, and that was no secret at all. Time passed far slower and painfully dull. But when he married it was as if the gods had finally enlightened him. His wife was one out of many and in those many years he has never forgotten you. How the moons passed and every time he got slight glimpses of it he remembered how no greater glow lived in this world since you had passed. 

But Gods always were cruel. Had he come back to you any time when you still graced the earth with your soul then he would have asked if you would have joined him too. However the one time he had found your old home. You had been slaughtered. At the fellow hands of his brethren. 

Your kids are nowhere in sight. It eased his mind but a bit. However for many nights he had stayed next to your decomposing corpse. His hunger subsided as he held you. Cradling you as he had done nights where your pregnant belly was too much to bare. 

He would much rather live in a world where you rested peacefully than forever tied down to a world that forced you to kill. 

After almost nothing remained he had buried you. Finally at ease and with it you took his heart. His heart no longer had that burning passion it had before. It emptied and the glass was half full. When he had killed his brother it felt as if all of it was finally gone. 

He was just  upper moon one. And that is all he would be. Vague memories lived on in the depths of his mind, stashed away was the flute he made for his dearest brother and next to it a hairpin that he had bestowed on you before your wedding. His two most prized objects. 

And they were laying out far from his reach. How did he get here? How on earth did it end this way? 

Tonight he knew he would have encountered a slayer. He knew that but he needn’t frighten himself. No greater power known to man could make him fear. 

But those same eyes that had watched him with nothing but adoration and then hatred when he had abandoned them. Now haunted his very core. The gods are cruel and they tortured him since he could remember. 

He didn’t care for slayers. Didn’t care enough, just ended their lives and that was all that they got from him. 

However those eyes that had once stared at him were here once again. A different kind of hatred now stared back at him. One of disgust. Perhaps even fear too. Somehow, Someway your figure stood before him. 

Your hands how calloused over as it held onto the handle of your blade, Those eyes piercing right through his very core.The once elegance you had the poise it all vanished as he stood as your enemy. 

It was then he realized he would rather prefer you be his enemy than have to kill you and have to live in a world where you didn’t exist at all. 

He knew he was crazy, mad perhaps and he wondered did you remember too. 

“..what is your… Name?” He asked speaking after so long of not sparing his breath. 

Your eyes widened a little. The hold on your blade never loosening but the pattern of your heart elevated. 

“I’m Y/n.” You speak with the voice he has never forgotten

Oh how awful of a crude joke this was. Standing as enemies when years ago you stood together as each other’s 

Yes. There was obvious differences in you of the past and you of the now. But beneath all that you were still the same. He wanted to say his sorrys for abandoning you, abandoning his family. Wanted to say some apology and in hopes that somehow you remembered it all. 

If he were any less than sane he’d probably turn you into a demon be at his side as you always should have been. But those eyes never held any recollection.

Did you cry when he left? How hard did you cry? Did you really hate him or want him back? Did you suffer when you died? Did you know where his children were? Did you go down protecting them? Or did you have a quick death?

“Do you…remember who i am?” He asked hand now resting on his own handle.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before” 

He knew that was going to happen. He did. And it didn't make it hurt any less than it does.

“You are the upper moon one. And I may not be able to kill you. But i'd rather go down trying than never knowing i had a chance” 

Fights always bored him. They always ended far sooner than he would have hoped. But this was taking too long. He knew why. His own hesitance withheld him and he didn't know why.

Why did he not want to kill you? Why on earth were you the only thing that kept him the least bit happy when nothing ever seemed too. What was so special about you in the first place? 

For the first time ever he felt a shiver run up his spine and for the first time ever he let a slayer live.

[shroomiesoda]

lancelot x sonic is so funny to me in the best way bc lancelot will just lament on how “i cannot fall for my king, for i am unworthy to be with such pure blood— such grace and poise! I hath made a vow to protect and serve the crown, not to be smitten by its elegance and beauty”

and sonic will just walk over to him and spout some dumbass nonsense like “sup lance ur lookin extra cool today haha more like lance-uh-HOT right?? haha”

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: Finally it’s chapter 7 of our Harry Potter/Addams family crossover. Not as long as future parts but sssh we’re getting there. Don’t forget to read your letter and intro!! 

Masterlist     Series Masterlist     Series Intro     Your Hogwarts Letter First Year

Chapter Seven ~ The Ceremony

A tall, rather regal woman greeted them at the entrance. She was slim and elegant, and reminded (Y/N) of those ghosts of beautiful women who suffered a tragic death and haunted the halls of their manors at night, the ones from only the finest works of literature; graceful and poised and full of wisdom beyond words. “Good evening,” she said in a refined Scottish accent, immediately demanding the attention of everyone in the room, “I am deputy headmistress McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses.”

(Y/N) listened as she took in her surroundings. The grey stone walls were intricately carved, flaming torches casting shadows, statues of armoured knights stood high above the entrance, and a chilly draft breezing in – oh yes, this would surely feel like home.

“The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily.” McGonagall announced, before excusing herself.

The deputy headmistress slipped through the grand doors, and for a moment everyone was silent. And then the murmuring started. “Are you nervous?” (Y/N) asked Ron and Harry as she fiddled with her tie.

“A little,” said Ron, “I’ll be in Gryffindor, with any luck.”

The three chatted for a minute, until they were rudely interrupted. “So it’s true then, what they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” The boy standing before them was pale and blond, and had an air of arrogance about him; a certain look in his eye that said he wanted to be taken seriously. (Y/N) could respect that, but the stench of his arrogance far overpowered any other personality traits he might have. She didn’t like that – arrogance was stupid and anyone possessing such a belief of their own superiority was even more a fool. No, (Y/N) didn’t take a liking to this boy – not one bit. “This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy… Draco Malfoy.” The name was familiar to her.

Ron snickered, who could really blame him? His name was as pretentious as him.

Malfoy looked displeased. “Think my name’s funny do you? No need to ask yours – red hair and a hand-me-down robe, you must be a Weasley.” He spat, looking Ron up and down with distaste.  The nerve. “You’ll soon find some wizarding families are better than others – don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He said to Harry, holding out his hand to shake.

(Y/N) was about two seconds from standing between them and slapping this boy in his stupid face, no matter how highly he thinks of himself. She’d just opened her mouth to throw him a belittling and no doubt devastating insult when Harry came up with his own response. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

Malfoy shot her a glare when she let out a snort, lazily hiding her snickers behind her hand. She knew she liked Harry for a reason. The look on Malfoy’s face was priceless.

The boy seemed like he was about to say something, when he was tapped on the shoulder by McGonagall – who would’ve thought she was so light on her feet? “They are ready for you now.” She addressed the room.

The nerves began, everyone felt it.

(Y/N) had hardly been so nervous in her life. As the grand doors opened to reveal the Great Hall in all its splendour, (Y/N) could only bring herself to appreciate its beauty for a few moments, before she was reminded of the task at hand. The first years were huddled further into the room, grouped together in an uncomfortable swarm, whoever tried to make their way in slowly was soon forced along by eager students. Pupils sat at every table gossiped amongst themselves as Professor McGonagall began to call out names to be sorted, cheering when someone was placed in their house. She knew that whichever house she was placed in would bring pride to her family, in their eyes she could do no wrong – but that wasn’t what nerved her; what if she didn’t fit in well? What if they treated her differently because she was an Addams? Or worse, what if she was put in the wrong house?

They walked down between the tables in a giant huddle, students eyeing them up and guessing who would fit where. Behind her, (Y/N) could hear a girl talking about the ceiling, and looked up to be amazed at the night sky above. Hundreds of lit candles floated in the air, filling the room with warm light. As they reached the front of the room, the huddle of first years came to a stop by some stairs. Before the staff table was a little stool, a wrinkly old leather hat sat atop looking a few centuries overdue a good polish.

After they all settled, Professor McGonnagal announced that the headmaster would be making a speech – as curious as she was, (Y/N) wasn’t all that interested in what the mysterious old man had to say; her feet hurt and she was far too eager to be sorted, bats fluttered her stomach with nerves and anticipation.

…“Note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students.” Said the wizard, giving a pointed look to some boys at the Gryffindor table. “Also our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.” He said, then gave a smile and a nod, and sat back down.

Many students looked rather serious as they contemplated his words, but Harry, she noticed, seemed quite horrified. “Probably nothing to worry about,” (Y/N) leaned over to whisper, doing her best to reassure him, “we have some rooms like that back home too.”

Though it seemed to have the opposite affect she was hoping for.

One by one each new student was sorted alphabetically, the sentient hat calling out houses and chatting briefly. (Y/N) was hardly that surprised. she’d seen stranger things – she lived with a living, crawling, disembodied hand for goodness sake. Very soon she knew her name would be called out.

“Addams, (Y/N).” Called McGonnagal, searching for the girl’s face. Whispered bounced around immediately, no doubt gossiping about the eldest Addams heir and whatever rumours they’d heard.

Giving one last look to Ron and Harry, (Y/N) was glad to see them smiling at her as she went. Walking up the carpet covered steps, she took a seat and tried to savour the moment of her first and only sorting. The hat was placed on her head just over her eyes and the hat began to talk about all the things in her head – it was rather invasive, actually.

“Oh, an Addams, eh? Hm yes, it’s been a while. Let’s see…” Said the hat, in a gruff voice, rummaging about her brain no doubt. “Loyal like Hufflepuff, oh yes, open-minded… no no, not quite.”

Was it really so hard to figure her out?

“Some Gryffindor bravery in there, that’s for sure. Playful and stubborn, that’s true… hmmm… Ah! Intelligent, yes. And curious, witty – very wise old soul you are. Yes, I know where you belong, Rav--”

He paused. And so did her wildly beating heart. “Oh… I see, what’s this? Brimming with ambition. And something else… That’s it. Slytherin!”

Not many faces in the room seemed so surprised, the Slytherin table clapped the loudest, everyone whispering still; but (Y/N) was disappointed to see her new friends gossiping too, not all too pleased about her placement. As she rose to find somewhere to sit at her new table, (Y/N) tried not to think on it too much. She could just be imagining it, they were shocked is all.

There were mixed emotions about the Slytherin table; some where pleased to have a new student with them, others wary of her name. The plain look on her face may not have helped her case. She could feel the rumours brewing already.

Though the feast was grand enough to suit a king, (Y/N) ate somewhat solemnly at her table. She watched from across the hall as her new friends mingled joyfully at the Gryffindor table, all smiles and laughs, while she sat feeling rather iced-out. Every few minutes she could feel people glancing her way; the students either side of her left as much space between them as they could spare, and hardly a single person wanted to speak with her.

It was rather annoying.

Though she couldn’t say she was too surprised, after all, this sort of treatment wasn’t alien to her. So, she straightened her posture, held her head high, and ate as normal, hardly sparing a single thought for the people around her – as an Addams should.

Friends were overrated anyway.

This was just another school, so she would do what she always did. In true Addams fashion, (Y/N) was going to be as unapologetically herself as she was raised to be.

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[that-mad-indian-woman]

When they say I have my mother's smile, I smile too.

I don't. I don't have my mother's grace. I don't have my mother's strength to bear through pain with poise. I don't have my mother's elegance to hold broken pieces of my own heart with benevolent despotism in my own hands.

I was carved from my father's flesh. I feel rage, untamed and unleashed. I feel grief, writhing and twisting my insides till I am all but consumed in its clutches. I feel hurt and pain; not like a knife that has been stabbed-quick and twisted;but like walking on nails-a continuous sting, eternal pain, far more malicious and damning. My tears aren't shed with elegance either-no, they aren't drops that escape the corners of my eyes. I sob. I sob with my mouth stuffed and ears blocked.

Grief looks ugly on me. As does fury. I am not my mother's daughter, I am my father's.

[coeluvr]

Salutations. It is the anon who had asked for Vincents hand in marriage... And I am here once more to GIVE EVEN MORE REASONS WHY I, THE ANON SHOULD RECEIVE MARRIAGE PERMISSION TO WED VINCENT!

Now as you know, Vincent is so stunning, gorgeous, striking, charming, alluring, dashing, radiant, elegant, handsome, exquisite, mesmerizing, enchanting, captivating, breathtaking, irresistible, fascinating, enigmatic, sophisticated, attractive, bewitching, glamorous, dreamy, magnetic, angelic, divine, adorable, tempting, resplendent, heavenly, statuesque, fetching, winsome, suave, debonair, polished, majestic, aesthetic, graceful, serene, and poised.

AND THE DAY I LAID EYES ON HIM WAS SUCH... SHOUJO LIKE... AND HE HAS NOT LEFT MY HEAD OR HEART EVER SINCE, EVEN THOUGH HE MAY DISLIKE ME, I BELIEVE THAT MY LOVE WILL COME THROUGH. SO I ASK FOR HIM TO MARRY ME, WHY? well I uhm well you seee

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I BEG ILL BE GOOD TO HIM I SWEAR 🙏

Dear god 😟 I will let the other Vincentmancers fight you...

[jintaka-hane]

Fight for her

(Bogard x f!reader based on @i-am-vita's Ghost Rose)

Summary: Bogard lost the love of his life a decade ago. Immersed in his ascent within the Marines, he has endured your absence for years… until a random encounter shatters everything and confirms his long-held suspicion: your passion still burns. Desperate, he contemplates this forbidden love, trying to convince himself that there's nothing he can do to win you back again… or is there? Notes: This short fic is a poisoned gift to my friend @i-am-vita, because she deserves everything 💕. It is based on her Ghost Rose OC and its aim is to add a bit more angst to A Night at Loguetown and try to... make the writer... doubt 😈. Vita, you can't make us all fall in love with Bogard and then not expect us to act accordingly! Come on, Bogard!! Fight for your love!! ⚔️  Words: 900 Warnings: angst, some violence, not NSFW but sexy Song that inspired me: Quizas, Quizas - Cuarteto patria, Manu Dibango

The night was oppressively hot, the air thick with humidity. The relentless chirping of crickets provided a constant background noise, punctuated by the soft whir of the ceiling fan blades, their feeble attempt at cooling the stuffy inn room.

A nearly drained bottle of whiskey graced the bedside table, alongside a well-worn tumbler. Draped over a chair, an elegant suit jacket and marine coat were meticulously poised for the coming morning. A gleaming, well-kept, and sharp sword slumbered in its scabbard, resting upon the chair's seat. Atop the backrest, Bogard's signature fedora added the finishing touch to the ensemble.

The bed was a mess, its sheets tangled and creased from repeated use, damp patches betraying the night's discomfort. The pillow lay askew, disrupting the bed's symmetry and adding to its air of disarray and weariness.

Bogard embraced you from behind, his arms tenderly pressing against your abdomen to keep your body as close to his as possible. With his face buried in your hair, he inhaled your intoxicating scent of spring flowers while delicately lowering one strap of your black dress with his fingers. Revealing your bare shoulder, he placed a tender kiss upon it, making you chuckle softly.

“Rick…”

Smiling, you turned around to face him and encircled his neck with your arms. You sealed your lips against his in a slow, deep kiss which he willingly reciprocated, his hands now caressing your bare back through the opening of your dress.

With slow, deliberate movements, you both reclined on the bed. You straddled him, your thighs framing his hips and the dress hitched up, revealing them. His hands trailed between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer, and you leaned in to kiss him again while your hands caressed his freshly shaved chin.

“Rick…��

Your kisses grew increasingly passionate on his neck, and he surrendered it entirely to you, like a blank canvas awaiting the brush of your crimson lips to paint sins upon.

“Rick… I love you”

Fight for her

Bogard woke abruptly, his body drenched in sweat and his breath coming in ragged gasps. His trembling hands reached out desperately, searching for the warmth of lips around his neck, only to find emptiness. He looked around frantically, his pupils struggling against the darkness as they searched for you, disoriented.

His fingers fiercely stroked his damp neck, desperately trying to fill the void left by your touch and warmth. They descended to his torso to hold and comfort himself, his chest rising and falling in an agitated rhythm as he struggled to catch his breath. He continued touching his skin, granting his body respite to adjust to your absence.

He sat up in bed, growling loudly with frustration, and brought his hands to either side of his head, gripping it tightly as he rocked back and forth in a small, restless motion.

She still loves you...

Catching his breath, he managed to calm down. He reached for the whiskey bottle on the nightstand, bringing it before his eyes to confirm its nearly empty state. With a grunt, he returned it to its place and stood up to wipe away the sweat and freshen his face in the bathroom.

Leaning over the sink, he turned on the cold water and let it run for a few seconds before cupping it in his hands and splashing it onto his face, the coolness gradually pulling him out of his daze and back into reality. With the water still running, he leaned his hands on either side of the sink for support and looked at himself in the mirror, his reflection infuriating him and causing his fingers to grip the sink's edge tightly.

You had her. You had her and you lost her. And now that you've got her back, you're losing her again.

In a burst of anger, he released his right hand from the sink, clenched it into a fist, and struck the mirror forcefully in the center, creating a crack that diagonally sliced through his reflection. It took a few seconds for him to feel the pain in his knuckles, staring blankly as a trickle of blood made its way through his skin.

You still loved him, he was sure of it. The kisses you gave him the other night were unlike any he had found before on other lips, when he sought solace in other women. Women who weren't you.

Your kisses were pure, unbridled passion. And he had felt it when he held you in his arms, his chest overflowing with love and desire, as his fingers traced the heart-shaped curve of your upper lip.

You still loved him…

He raised his eyes and stared at his shattered reflection in the broken mirror, bitterly reflecting on how it perfectly mirrored his heart.

It was clear you were hiding something, and he wasn't a fool... he could perfectly well imagine what your new life consisted of. And this information made everything even more complicated, turning you both into antagonists of a forbidden tale.

But... what if things didn't have to be this way?

In his career as a Marine, he had seen many things outside the norm. He had witnessed various kinds of relationships: pirates falling in love with Marines, Marines secretly marrying individuals wanted by the law...

And he wasn't just some random guy. He was the damn right-hand man of the Vice Admiral Garp. With the right steps and circumstances, he could make the right moves to have you again.

You could have a clandestine relationship that no one would dare to judge. And with his power and authority, he could offer you protection if you ever needed it.

You were the love of his life.

And a love like that was worth fighting for...

... even if that meant he would have to challenge the world's greatest swordman himself.

.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus, Ace: Not a Star in Heaven

I find it interesting that Malleus said he walks by Ramshackle less often these days. (I guess he wants to be respectful of the new residents?? Or maybe he doesn’t like the noise) 🤔

It's also nice to see Malleus finally acknowledge that he has various people he can speak with and that don't fear him (like Adeuce); I've always found it kind of odd that the main story puts such emphasis on how people don't approach or engage with Malleus when we clearly see him interact with others (not limited to, but including: Cater, Rook, and most other dorm leaders) in respectful, but not always totally amicable, ways in vignettes and some events.

… The Groovy reminds me of the time a friend took a sample of Malleus’s skin color from one of his card artworks 😂 and we were both shocked at how close he was to being the hex code #FFFFFF (aka white as heck). Yes I’m making another High School Musical pun 🌟

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

"What do you do on your days off?"

"It is nothing particularly of note. When I am able to find the time, I am drawn to playing the violin or settling in with a good book."

The delivery of his words came with perfect grace and perfect poise. Elegance befitting royalty, and he who represented the spirit of the noble Thorn Fairy.

Malleus Draconia brushed off an invisible fleck of dust from his dark robes. The stars woven into them with golden thread glimmered from the movement. "Ah, yes. I do also enjoy the occasional stroll, wandering wherever my whims may take me."

"Wow, classy. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything less from a hotshot like you, Malleus-senpai!" Wearing a cheeky grin, Ace leaned forward. "Sooo, what kinda places do you hang around at? I heard from the Prefect that you just pulled up on their front lawn in the middle of the night."

"You've heard." The corners of Malleus's mouth curled upward, bemused. "Alas, Ramshackle has become more lively as of late. It would be rude of me to intrude on the new tenants as I have in the past. These days, I am more likely to see myself to the town, seeking antiques or archaic texts."

"Lemme guess, Sebek threw a fit about the route change?" Ace snickered like an elementary schooler. "I bet he did. Dude always does whenever you're faced with some mild inconvenience."

Straightening and puffing out his chest, the first year adopted a gruff, rumbling voice and an intense glare—a mocking imitation of Sebek. "Why, the NERVE of that human to not grovel and kiss your boots and beg for forgiveness for bumping into you in the hallway, Young Master!! Dishonor on them, dishonor on their family, DISHONOR ON THEIR COW!!"

Malleus stared at him.

"... Too much?" Ace asked weakly.

"My attendants do not accompany me on my walks," Malleus clarified, cooly dispelling the awkwardness. "They are strictly solitary happenings."

"Huh, so not even Silver-senpai or Lilia-senpai joins you?"

"Unless you mean to say that the definition of 'solitary' has changed in the last millennia, yes."

"And Sebek just... lets it happen?"

"Rather than 'letting it happen', it would be more accurate to say that I have already departed long before anyone has realized." Mischief shone in his emerald-set eyes.

Ace's jaw slackened. "No way. You seriously just screw off like that? Sounds like something I'd do, not something a fancy schmancy prince! Don’t you get an earful about it when you get back?”

"Hoh? It seems you speak from personal experience, Trappola,” Malleus smirked, “seeing as Rosehearts oft goes about punishing you for your rebellion.”

“Urk!! You, uh… kinda got me there.”

“Not to worry. I shall be discreet—just as you will be discreet about my walks, correct?” There was a quiet yet dangerous insistence laced in his voice, compelling Ace to gulp and nod, complying.

“You don’t like hanging out with other people or something?”

“I am accustomed to being on my own. This is no different than the norm.”

“Well, I don’t know how it was for you before, but it sounds like you’re going out of your way to be alone now." Ace shrugged. "Isn't that just making things worse for you? It's not like you're making an effort to reach out to others or to communicate with them. You won't make any friends like that."

His bluntness—and the audacity of it—struck Malleus like lighting to his heart. The truth, cold and hard and pointed.

"Friends, you say..." He let the word linger in the space between them. Pride and hurt—and perhaps hurt pride—swirling. “Hmph. How brazen of you to make such accusations to my face. You know not how to hold your tongue—nor do you know true fear.”

The air crackled, suddenly thick and heavy with tension. The bright, sunny day stilled.

“Hah?! A-Are you gonna strike me down?!“ Ace took a hasty step back and braced himself. Holy crap, this is 100 times worse than getting collared!!

“… It was a joke.”

“It was?!”

“Of course.” Malleus chuckled, offering a small, if not smug, smile. “I am not opposed to being approached by those unafraid to speak their minds. That is what separates Night Raven College from the rest. It is a place full of interesting individuals.

“Yourself, Spade, the Prefect—there is no shortage of those who are willing to challenge me.”

“And that’s… a good thing?” Ace blinked, bewildered. Riddle-ryocho’s on my ass all the time, so I didn’t think I’d get praised for acting out…

Malleus nodded solemnly. “These are experiences I could never have were I to continue my studies exclusively in Briar Valley. It it because of my training at Night Raven College that I can broaden my horizons.”

“Eh, but you’ll still have powers us plebs can never hope to know.”

The birthday boy laid a hand on the main building behind them. Tall, grand, and imposing—it was everything he was, built of magic and marvels.

What would remain once time and weather had eroded it away to ancient ruins? Only the memories he had made while he was there.

“… There are some wishes that magic alone cannot grant,” Malleus said, mystery drenching bis every syllable. “I can fly as far as I like. There is not a star in heaven I cannot reach. Still…”

I never feel fulfilled.

His eyes fluttered shut, contemplative.

He had been in that grassy field, Lilia at his side, and surrounded by teary reunions. Classmates and friends, dorm leaders and vices and their members. Trading hugs and relieved words.

Lilia had turned to him then, face shining like the full moon.

“Human lives are as thin and as fragile as the threads on a spindle. But through their companionship, they are able to weave together to create something far stronger. Such friendships are able to transcend their short lifespans.

“Malleus, we are able to share the world with these wonderful people. Isn’t that magical?”

That is why we must treasure the here and now, before that time slips away from us.

He returned his gaze to his underclassman. “Trappola.”

Ace jumped. “Y-Yeah? What is it?”

“Consider yourself fortunate.” Malleus smiled with his teeth. “For you are an acquaintance of mine.”

“I guess I am…?” Ace tried to return the friendliness, but faltered. “Cool! Wait ‘til I brag to my big bro that I know the Malleus Draconia. He won’t believe it!”

“Fufufu. Perhaps he would be more inclined to believe were I to appear on the doorstep of your household.”

Ace immediately paled. “My whole family’s gonna pass out if you do that!!”

“Acquaintances host other acquaintances at their abodes, no?” His tone was teasing, like fingers raking across bare skin.

“Please tell me that’s another bad joke, Malleus-senpai!! You’re not being serious, right? RIGHT?!”

“I eagerly await your invitation.”

Ace caught the splintered trickery in Malleus’s eyes before the takeoff—one so forceful that it sent him hurtling back. He landed on his bum, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Heeeey! You still didn’t answer my question!!”

FWOOSH!!

Malleus launched into the sky upon his broomstick. Truthfully, he was fine without any magical implements to aid him—but tradition called for the show, flowers and all.

He raised a hand, shielding his eyes against the sun. It was strong today, in spite of it being the middle of a chilling winter season and drifting snow. Light and warmth where there should have been bleakness and cold.

Weather every bit as defiant as the humans around him.

Interesting.

Malleus extended his hand, catching a piece of falling snow in his palm. Sunlight streamed through his fingertips—and it, combined with his body heat, melted the snow into cool water.

It had lived and died in but a few breaths. So many of them around him, snuffed out so soon.

“Malleus, we are able to share the world with these wonderful people. Isn’t that magical?”

Yes, it is.

He closed his fingers and brought them to his chest.

I can fly anywhere I like. I can reach any star in heaven. But I cannot yet understand the hearts of mankind. That… is why I am here at Night Raven College.

To learn of that special enchantment.

[idyllic-affections]

ignorance is a sin which may lead to a grave error.

summary. A noble man—a boy, more accurately; he barely looked their age—would, of course, try to court them. Wonderful. trigger & content warnings. reader gets misgendered, violent thoughts but no-one gets hurt. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, hurt/comfort-esque. pantalone, il dottore, and la signora & pantalone's child!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns for reader. reader is 16-17 in this piece & is hinted at being somewhere on the aroace spectrum. prev | next

author's thoughts. i decided to make snezhnaya a very volatile, politically complex nation in this oneshot. tension is fun <3 anyway dottolone is heavily implied here because i thought that dynamic would be SO funny with pantalone's teenage child involved, like.... can you imagine the older dottores and [name] fighting for his attention while he pretends to not know whats going on HFKDJKGHF

       Politically, Snezhnaya was... quite frankly, a disaster.

       The Tsaritsa's people had long since lost trust in her. She did not care for her people (at least, so it seemed from an outsider's perspective; they knew better), and so her people did not care for her.

       As a result, the Fatui's power only extended so far. The Harbingers could only do so much before the people of Snezhnaya decided to revolt. Even Gods can be effectively overthrown if enough people cooperate with one another. The Fatui and The Tsaritsa were no different.

       If, at any point, the people—namely the nobles—decided that they've had enough...

       Even the top three Harbingers would only be able to do so much to stop the rebellion.

       To keep public relations in some semblance of stability, biannual events were held, hosted in the Winter Palace itself. Sometimes, nobles from other nations would even attend in the interest of "international diplomacy."

       They loathed such events with every fiber of their being.

       Every important Fatui official was required to be in attendance, which, unfortunately, included them. Sometimes they wished they weren't one of the Fatui's senior debt collectors, if for no other reason than to avoid having to elegantly navigate noble etiquette with people they couldn't possibly care less about, with people who couldn't possibly care less about them. They hated being surrounded by fools who only wanted to please them in a pathetic attempt to earn Pantalone's favor, to get him to alleviate their never-ending debts.

       'If only Mother Rosalyne hadn't been swept away by the masses...'

       A deep sigh left their nose as they internally lamented La Signora's absence from their side. While tenderly styling their hair prior to the event, she did say that she couldn't promise to keep them company throughout the entire night, but still... Being left alone without one of their favorite Harbingers was terribly boring. The woman somehow always kept them entertained.

       "What could possibly have such a fair maiden so troubled?"

       A noble man—a boy, more accurately; he barely looked their age—would, of course, try to court them.

       Wonderful.

       "I am no maiden," they mused with graceful, calm poise, fingers briefly brushing against the pistol tucked between the layers of their clothing as if to reassure themselves that it was really there, "though... I suppose I can forgive your mistake. I do have the elegance of one, as it was one who taught me to carry myself in such a manner."

       "My sincerest apologies." He smiled a bit too wide for their liking. They had to physically restrain themselves from gagging and grimacing when he took their gloved hand, pressing a kiss to their knuckles. He held their hand a moment longer, admiring the silver adorning their fingers. Pantalone, earlier on in their life, had bought them a particularly pretty set of rings when he realize how enamored they were with his. Something deeply sentimental kept them from ever replacing the jewelry on their right hand. To have a stranger touching that hand, those rings, so casually... it made their blood boil. "You do indeed carry yourself with the beauty of a lady. Your rings are quite beautiful. Pray tell, are you engaged?"

       'Archons above,' they swore mentally, gaze quickly scanning the crowd for the closest Harbinger. It was Dottore. It was debatable whether they were relieved or annoyed at that fact. "...Thank you. No, I'm not."

       "Ah, then, might I have the honor of knowing your name?"

       He didn't know who they were.

       Sudden relief washed over their body, and their tense shoulders seemed to loosen slightly. He was not from Snezhnaya. In fact, he was most likely from quite far away. Due to thia, they could theoretically defend themselves however they deemed necessary without causing any serious issues for the Fatui or Her Majesty...

       "I will have to decline, unfortunately, but perhaps if you humor me some, I may be inclined to enlighten you."

       "Oho? Ask away, angel."

       Their stomach churned uncomfortably.

       "Where are you from?"

       "Fontaine. My family are some of Lady Focalors' most loyal retainers."

       A smile adorned their features.

       "I see," they hummed as they adjusted their glasses. "As a Snezhnayan of high social standing, I shall give you some advice."

       "Now, now, do not presume yourself wiser than I—"

       "Do not attempt to court someone whose name you genuinely do not know, especially not in a nation like this, at an event such as this one." Their hand clasped his jaw with threatening tightness, promising a fate worse than death if he did not back off. "I am [Name], otherwise known as the rightful blood heir to the Regrator's fortune and one of the Fatui's senior debt collectors. The honor is all yours. If you plead nicely, I may be kind and gracious enough to let this incident slip by unpunished. Ignorance is a sin, but I do have some forgiveness to spare tonight..."

       The color seemed to drain from his face as he squimed in their gradually weakening hold; they lacked the strength to maintain such a crushing grip for too long. "I— I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you—"

       "Is something the matter, mon petit monstre?"

       They scoffed, letting the trembling boy go with an aggressive shove before turning towards Dottore. This was not Dottore in the prime of his life; he hardly ever attended publicity events on account of his... volatile nature. This was one of the few segments that did bend slightly in their favor. "Some stupid Fontainian noble trying to court me. I knew he was foreign the second he spoke to me. Snezhnayan nobles don't act like desperate fools, especially not towards me."

       "Oh, you poor thing, suffering from success."

       "It's not funny! Stop making fun of me!" they complained; they had half a mind to shoot him with their pistol, really. Even if he was teasing them just a little, there was something oddly protective in the way his hands came to rest on their shoulders, brushing off invisible dirt and adjusting their collar.

       The noble had long since scurried off, frightened by both them and the Second Harbinger.

       Admittedly, Dottore's presence probably scared him off the most. They'd rather die than admit they appreciated him somehow appearing at just the right moment.

       "Care to join me and your Father?"

       "What, so I can watch you hit on him in front of my face? No, thank you. All of you older segments are the same in that respect. I'm alright on my own." Dottore only stared at them with a smile that was a little too amused. They relented. "...Fine, whatever. Just do me the favor of flirting with him when I'm not nearby. After the event, preferably. Mother Rosalyne is taking me out after this, so flirt with him then."

       "I make no such commitments."

       "You—!"

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