#very mademoiselle of me if I say so myself

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

[princessconsuela120]

✯FOREIGN FANCY ✯

—✯

Summary: when you traveled from France to Scotland, you didn’t imagine to meet the charming Sirius Black.

Warnings: None, it’s just fluffy.

Authors note: so I lost the request, but this was a requested fic! Excuse my French, it’s not the best but I tried, enjoy!

—✯

“OI, PRONGS, CHECK IT OUT.” Sirius said, excitement in his tone as he scooted next to James. The school was all gathered together in the great hall for lunch, and no one missed the new girl who was sorted promptly into Gryffindor this morning at the sorting ceremony, as a 6th year. “The new 6th year. She’s in our potions class too, and sat next to Evan’s and McKinnon.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows, nudging James as he looked over at the new girl with excitement. You was now sitting with Lily Evan’s again, your face lighting up with all of the gossip Lily was sure to be telling you.

“Yeah, what about her?” James asked, raising an eyebrow at Sirius’ excitement. “Didn’t she transfer in from Beauxbatons?”

“She did.” Sirius replied, elbowing James with a teasing excitement.

“A foreign girl, go for it Pads.” James said, patting Sirius on the back causing Remus to roll his eyes.

“You are both dogs.” He grumbled, making Sirius scoff.

“Oh, what you want her Moony?” He teased, turning to see Remus with a smirk on his face.

“What if I do?”

“Back off she’s mine!” Sirius barked, taking one of Remus’ dinner rolls and throwing it at him. Remus huffed with annoyance, rolling his eyes as he turned to Sirius.

“She’s a new student Sirius, I’m sure she’s already anxious enough. She doesn’t need you making it worse.” He explained, but Sirius had already been making his way out of his seat.

“Too late, I’m already introducing myself.” Sirius said, quickly making his way over to where the girls were sitting. You had gotten up from her seat, walking toward the back of the room to probably get ready for your next class. So of course, Sirius followed you out.

“You can do this Padfoot!” James called after him, giving Sirius a surge of confidence. He leant against the wall behind you, fixing his hair before greeting you.

“Bonjour mademoiselle.” He flirted, causing the new girl to turn to him, an excited glimmer on her face when she heard the French he spoke.

“Ah, bonjour monsieur. Enchantée, Je m’appelle y/n. Parles-vous francais?” (Ah, hello Mr. Nice to meet you, my name’s y/n. You speak French?) you greeted in response, Sirius face immediately dropping as he blushed, laughing nervously to himself.

“Ha, I don’t actually speak French. I just know bonjour and mademoiselle.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You couldn’t help but giggle at his adorableness, making him smile at you in response.

“That’s quite alright. Lucky for you I speak English as well.” You replied, a sweet smile on your face that made Sirius melt.

“Very lucky for me. So you’re a Gryffindor eh?” He asked, referring to your new robes that you wore.

“Seems so. I guess I brought my courage with me to Hogwarts.”

“That’s not all, my friend Peter’s barely courageous at all and he got in.” Sirius said nonchalantly, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s a very odd thing to say about your friend.” You questioned, making him shrug in response.

“Eh, he wouldn’t mind. I’m Sirius by the way.” He introduced, holding his hand out as you took his hand.

“Y/n. It’s a pleasure.” You said, shaking his hand. He leant down slightly, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He replied, a deep blush now burning on your cheeks.“I don’t suppose you need a friendly face to show you around the building?” He asked, making you turn to where Lily sat at the table.

“Actually, Lily Evan’s already offered to..”

“Eh, she won’t mind.” He interrupted, linking your arm with his. It took you by surprise as he led you both out the door. “Over here, my favorite, we have the one-eyed witch statue. I didn’t tell you this, but this exact statue leads to the cellars underneath honeydukes.” He whispered, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him with surprise, making you giggle at his excitement while describing the school. As the journey continued he made sure to tell you about all of his adventures, reminiscing on when he and James snuck out with the invisibility cloak, or when they first discovered the spider cave just outside the forbidden Forest. Sirius had managed to convince McGonagal to let you miss the day of classes to get accustomed to the castle. The marauders were outside for beasts class, both Remus and James rolling their eyes when they spotted you clinging to sirius’ back as he took you on a tour around the outskirts of Hogwarts, on his broom.

“He’s totally whipped.” Remus replied, throwing a few pellets of food to the niffler in front of him. James rolled his eyes, nodding in agreement as he lifted the niffler, attempting to take back the coins it stole from him.

“Oh yeah. Totally whipped.” James grumbled, failing to take back his coins, and instead getting knocked on his feet as the niffler shoved a few more of James’ loose change in his pocket.

[miyakokini]

Dance with you tonight

Neuvillette x fem!reader

HELLOOO hoping everyone will like this:D this is my first time posting -miya

No trigger warnings

It was the ball of the season for fontaine, it was known for many nobles attending this fancy ball.

Music instruments could be heard in harmony as people swayed and danced in the ballroom.. chatter, laughter, and clinking could be heard all around.

You stood around taking a look at your surroundings as you drank your glass of champagne.

You were in your silent place until someone disrupted that silence.

"Please excuse me, my lady.. may I ask what you are doing in such a quiet corner all by yourself?"

You stared at the man beside you, a man who has this beauty that could make every lady fawn over.. his slender yet muscular form.. hes taller than you, or probably the tallest man you've stumbled upon.

"why good evening to you, monsieur. I'm simply just enjoying my peace and quiet" you said smiling and opening your fan as you slowly fan it to your face with such grace.

"I hope I haven't disrupted your peace and quiet now have I?" He asked quite worried he must've disturbed you by creating a small talk.

You chuckled as you smiled and stared at him "why no, I don't mind having company in this evening ball."

"that's quite a relief then.." he said in relief and cleared his throat "ah excuse my bad manners, I am Neuvillette.. Ludex Neuvillette." He introduced himself, taking your hand into his lips politely.

I blushed as I took my hand back slowly, smiling as I fanned myself a little faster.. covering my face while being flustered..

"I am.. Y/n L/n.. pleasure meeting you, monsieur Neuvillette.." I smiled..

Neuvillette huh?.. well what a jackpot you have gotten, the judge himself in all his glory right in front of you.. the final judgement of all penalty.

"as we are speaking.. will you join me for a dance, mademoiselle (reader)?".

He held his hand out, slightly Bowing staring at you as he waits for your answer..

Of course I accepted it, it would be a waste of an opportunity.. no?

In the dance floor.. his hand on your waist, your hand on his shoulder as you held hands and gently swayed and danced as people watched in awe..

Your dress sways gracefully with every spin, every step you take as you danced under the spotlight.

The music is gentle and soothing as you two danced.. he carried you up with a Swift move before spinning you around and setting you down.

"you dance very gracefully, my lady" he spoke as he spun you around

"could say so for yourself, monsieur" you spoke back as you fell onto his hand.

The night was full of romance, as it felt like the time was moving so slow as you two danced.

Then there it came.. the end of the performance.

"thank you for accepting my invite, my lady"

"it was nothing really.." I smiled and bowed..

It was the best night you've ever had in every ball.. perhaps you could even get to know him next time?..

Fate truly is mysterious.

@ miyakokini, 2024 please do not copy, steal, use, or edit this post without my permission. reblogs and Interactions are appreciated<33!

THANK YOU FOR READING:DD

It really is short so I apologize for that.

[tallestsilver]

50. “It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.”

Okay, I don't know what it's not posting with the *whoops* 5 pages, but I will post it.

EDIT: I am thwarted by tumblr. Have these links: AO3

FFN

To infer that I am a haunted man is an understatement. I have a personality apt for obsession. To throw myself entirely into my passions with reckless disregard to my surroundings. At times such as these, my attention is consumed by, more often than not, composing. I may go days without moving from my post, neither sleeping nor eating; nothing of this earthly realm can deter me when I focus on the divinity of music.

That is, of course, until one Mademoiselle Christine Daae haphazardly entered my domain.

Nothing so pure with child-like whimsy and naivety has shaken me to my core as resolutely as one Mlle. Daae.

Initially, I could sweep her from my thoughts. She is a young woman with many prospects. No doubt, could easily find a patron that lurks in the corners of the ballet corps. Many other young women and girls have succumbed through desperation to those demanding aristocrats with too much time and money to spare, and plenty of disregard for the fairer sex.

Convincing myself it was just my carnal base desires leaching out from the pits of my own desperation could only go so far. Although the thought of hand to hand, flesh to flesh was undeniably enticing, it was the thought of domesticity with Mlle. Daae that plagued my every thought: how comforting the warm embrace of her arms must be. A petite sigh of boredom, deciding on what book to read. Slight quibbles on what to eat for the evening supper. Her jubilant enthusiasm for the next aria I undoubtedly would encourage her to sing.

Above all, the care and ritual that she would engage in for her own beauty. How rapturous it was, to gaze upon her as she gazed upon herself at her vanity. Vanity - the very word loathsome to me, suggesting as though men did not participate in gazing at women in the very same regard as a mirror.

These quick glances I so abashedly stole while she sat preening, unbeknownst to my very presence, were not lecherous albeit voyeuristic. No, the careful application of rouge upon her cheeks and lips entranced me. Fur-soft puffs laced with powder enhance her brilliance. Waxed perfume enticing all the senses upon her wrist and decolletage. And sin against sins, the way her bristled brush caressed through her golden tresses. That, truly, was my undoing.

The carefully laid witchcraft of feminine makeup was inspiring to me, for it could potentially do wonders for even the most macabre of faces into looking somewhat respectable. I had dabbled in the venture myself, using theatre techniques to adhere attributes to myself that were so sorely lacking.

But the spell Christine cast upon me while brushing her hair was my undoing. Alas! To be the silken ribbon tied behind her graceful neck to keep the mass of riotous curls at bay so she could study her scripts, movements, chords... To run my spindly claws through her hair...

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. I wanted nothing more than that domesticity, accumulating to be able to assist her in her womanly needs. To fetch the shade she needed for her next scene or to comb out the tangles of the divine. I wanted, nay, needed to be a house husband to her. Fawning over her every whim, cooking, cleaning, making sure my Nordic Goddess could never want. And then, hope upon hope, to stroll in a park on a Sunday.

After exposing myself as the fraudulent Ange de la Musique, we did settle into a somewhat harmonious existence. Not exactly to my fantasies, but surely we held each other in some regard.

Maddening silence was often my punishment if I did anything she deemed untoward. Granted, my violent outbursts were getting more and more frequent as she gained more notoriety, attracting the attention of other men. She was not mine, not truly, but I could see fit she was not theirs, either.

I found myself in one of those sullen moods of hers. Dark circles plagued my Angel's under eyes. She no longer cared for her rouge, perfumes, or trinkets. She was no longer amused by my antics of sleight of hand, stories, or even songs.

Christine slumped into a morbidity that I knew only too well. True, her boy did indeed leave for the Northern Pole, and we're slowly acclimating ourselves to a potential future, whatever that may be, but the disdain in her gaze strikes me as sharply as a knife. No, perhaps not disdain that she feels for me; resignation may be the proper term for the hollow look in her eyes.

I never considered myself a timid creature, but the thought of her unhappiness sends me spiraling in isolation, to shun myself from her presence.

It was in this meekness, that I carefully approached the creature of all my desires, as she stared numbly at her vanity.

"Good evening, Erik," she stated automatically, not bothering to turn to face me. My eyes gleamed yellow in the reflection. If she wanted to speak to me thusly, I would acquiesce and respond in kind.

"Good evening, Christine." My voice was low, not demanding, but certainly not The Voice. I had refrained from using The Voice on her in many months after she berated me that she did not like losing her faculties as such.

"Around me," was the unspoken phrase that she had not explicitly stated, but the implication was thus.

No matter, I did not want her to be hypnotized to tolerate me. This 'case of the morbs', my dearest had, was better than utter disdain or calmness against her will. My desires were simple, to enjoy each others' company, for a smiling bride awaiting her gruesome husband and to welcome me with kindness.

Reason dictated that I repair the contemptuous relationship we found ourselves in. But women are fickle creatures and any means of being contrite seemed to annoy her. Could I not read the emotions of other creatures well enough? Are humans not but animals with longings to be loved as well as any?

In my coveted ideal of domesticity, I found myself liking Christine to be a feral feline that one should be cautious to approach, lest she hiss and strike you with an open paw. But perhaps in providing for her needs, she might allow a gentle pet.

I stood behind her, my hands wringing, uncertain of how to broach the question that had plagued my mind.

She sighed heavily, her eyes closing in - annoyance? Trepidation? - before asking, "what is it, Erik?"

I nearly bristled at the directness of her question, but Christine had mentioned it is easier to get what you want with honey rather than brute force - whatever that is meant, I took a cautious step toward her.

The precious girl did not run away.

"Erik wanted to know-" I froze as her mouth deepened into a frown at my slip. She admonished me frequently for not speaking in the first person. "I wanted to know-" I quickly corrected, "if you require some assistance with brushing your hair?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me through the mirror of her vanity quizzically. I took another step forward, rubbing my wrists in uncertainty. She once mentioned she liked my cuffs a little shorter, exposing my wrists, and I adjusted my entire wardrobe accordingly, but instances like this made me feel exposed all over.

"What?" Her hands automatically ran over the ends of her hair, indeed, finding a mass of tangles and knots. She looked down in an all-too familiar expression for me: shame at her appearance.

My hands dropped to my side, my body rigid in fear, that I caused the anguish that shadowed her beloved features. "What I mean to say- not that you require it- I thought it would- no, no you mustn't-" My thoughts were a jumbled mess as did my words, usually so mastercrafted, fell so flat into nonsense.

As I rambled, Christine turned in her seat, witnessing my awkwardness. She toyed with a stray lock of hair, plucking at some split ends, her usual proper posture hunched and withdrawn. She was quiet as I hurriedly decided to dismiss myself and wallow in my awkward misery into my own room, when her voice called in a meek, considering way, "all right."

"I shall see myself out because you certainly do not wish for me to-" I snapped to attention and whirled back around, "-all right?"

She nodded and retrieved her hair brush, silently reaching it toward me.

My mouth gaped open and shut like a gasping fish before moving toward her once again.

"All right," I responded in kind.

Reaching for her brush, our fingers touched, ever so slightly, and I held the gasp that threatened to escape my throat. I was touch-starved, this is true, but the demure sensation was a relief to one more step toward normalcy. I looked to her to see if she was offended that my skeletal hand should touch her radiance, but no screams were heard. She simply nodded and turned back to face the mirror as I stumbled to stand behind her. Heat blossomed across my masked face, my ears betraying my blush that she would allow me to touch her.

My hands trembled, unsure where to begin, unwilling to hurt the angel in front of me. This was a foolish endeavor, I know nothing about caring for long hair, particularly the mass of curls before me. I pressed the brush to bundle of tangles at the nape of her neck and tried to pull down. The bristles stopped dead in their tracks, but Christine's head went down with the motion with a gasp, "ow!"

I froze in terror, all feeling draining from my person. I had wounded my Christine. I hurt her unintentionally once again. "Apologies, my-m," I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying out loud, "My Christine." I wanted to run, to flee, to have her never look upon me again and to give up this silly dream. But I also wanted to persevere, to be of use to her, to see that smile once again.

Christine sensed my hesitancy, and with the patience of a saint, she mimed how to start in the mirror. "From the bottom," she said quietly, just above a whisper. "Work your way up to the top. That will help with the tangles. I have not felt like myself, I can do it-" she reached for the brush and I snatched it away from her grasp.

"No!" I barked, too loud. She winced from the loud exclamation, but the poor dear did not run in terror. I cleared my throat and inhaled deeply to settle my nerves, "No," I stated more gently, but firmly. "Eri-I wish to do this for you." I looked at her earnestly. "Please."

She looked warily at me and I inwardly chided myself. My emotional outbursts were more and more infrequent, but they still bubbled to the surface now and again. She slowly nodded and repositioned herself in front of the mirror.

Cautiously, slowly, I started brushing her hair out. Her curls separated and poofed before me. I gripped a few locks and ran the brush through it, marveling how it shimmered in the candlelight. The tangles persisted, but as did this magnificent angel, nary a peep out of her lips. I moved through delicately, sections unraveling themselves and it became easier and easier to maneuver.

I restrained myself from burying my face in sunshine made tangible, to inhale her sweet perfume, but I shall admit it was a struggle. I did not want to cross the boundary of this tentative truce.

As I managed to make it all the way to the top of her scalp, the brush gliding through the rest of her tresses easily, Christine gave the sweetest feminine sigh and leaned back, against my frame. While I continued with my ministrations, my mind roiled in delight and fear. How do I navigate a situation like this? This was suddenly more intimate than I was prepared for and a quick excuse to leave became very appealing. I need to sleep? She would never believe that. Compose? Make some tea?

"I feel," her voice interrupted my frantic thoughts once again, "that if I were a cat," she paused, as if carefully examining her next words, "I might purr." She smiled - oh! How that angel blessed me with her smile- and looked at me once again.

Dumbfounded and skittish, I could only nod. The two of us fools, navigating dynamic we were naive to explore. I did not want to cease the brushing, but as her hair no longer needed attention, I was at a loss for what to do.

"Thank you, Erik." She reached back and separated the fluffy mane into three segments and deftly plaited her hair into a neat braid.

I took a step back from her, holding my hands, "You're welcome, Christine."

Silence enveloped us once again and I took that as a signal to leave.

"Will you tell me another story? It has been quite a long time since you read to me or told me of your travels."

She stood and offered her hand to me. Tentatively, I embraced it.

"Yes."

[ruanais]

-> ☆—I LOVE YOU-! (please confess to me first)

☆—RECIPE : who heard of the Archon of Fontaine being lovestruck? How absurd! Unfortunately, this is the case! So she must make you, her dear friend fall for her first and be the one to confess!

☆—FROSTING: gn reader, furina and reader being flustered, baker! Reader, tons and loads of fluffy fluff (I’m spoiling myself ٩( ᐛ )و struggling to not make this angst ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡) 2nd pov btw!! reader is implied having a crush on Furina, furina’s lovestruck <3

“I HOPE these are to your liking, Furina!” You said, holding out a tray filled with slices of cake, macaroons, cream puffs, coffee, pudding, and a cup of tea.

“whoa! You made them all by yourself?” A shining Furina clasped her hands together. Getting up from her chair and walking to where you are, pulling your arm to a small table, purely reserved for visitors to sit and chat.

“Ahaha, I got mademoiselle Navia’s help, so she took part as well!” You laughed, setting the tray and then taking a sit. “There’s soo much today!” She exclaimed, obviously excited to dig in.

“Come on, hurry! Pour me some tea!” “Yes, yes.” You nodded your head and reached for the teapot, not noticing Furina staring at you adoringly, a slight tint of red on her face.

Oh! How can she, the magnificent God of Justice, the Archon of Fontaine ever confess? Of course she won’t! She’ll make you fall for her instead! And you’ll be the one to confess first! To save her pride, of course.

“Furina? Hello?” Your voice snapped her out of her daze, instantly sitting back up straight again and accepted the cup of tea you offered to her.

“daydreaming again huh?” You chuckled. “You’ll need to stop doing that all the time y’know?” As you hit her on the head lightly as you could but still earned a “ow!” From her.

As she munched on her cake, you poured yourself another cup of tea and cut a slice of cake.

it was quite the funny sight. The God of Justice blushing huffing while inhaling her cake and you eating your cake normally while beaming at Furina.

After you finished your cake, you rested your head on her hand and this time, you were the one to stare.

“hey! [name], are you that shameless? staring at my heavenly beauty arent you?”

Furina smirked as you smiled slightly before agreeing. And while in her stupefied state, you leaned forward and used a napkin to wipe off the frosting on her cheeks, not realising you two were very, very, very close.

Only after you finished wiping away the frosting, did you realise the close distance between you two.

“a-ah. Furina-“

“Mademoiselle Furina! I have urgent news…” a courier trailed off, seeing the intimacy between you two and totally getting the wrong idea.

“This is not what is looks like-“ you rushed to explain but unfortunately (fortunately) our dear Furina saw the chance to make you flustered, cut you off.

“-this is exactly! What it looks like!” She announced, a gleam in her eyes as you stared at her dumbfounded. “…huh?”

ah yes, but let’s not forget about the courier. Standing there confused, he got the message that his Archon wanted to send and hurriedly apologised and slammed the door shut. Leaving you bright red and flustered and Furina proud and her ego once more filled to the brim.

that is, before she realised how fucking cringe that was. ‘Ahhhhhh!! How could I ever say that?!?!?! What would [name] think of me now???” Butterflies irrupting in her stomach and a red face to match, safe to say. She felt like a utter fool.

after staying in that position like statues, (and idiots) the two of you returned back to your normal state (almost. Since the embarrassment was too much-)

ehehe..let’s skip to the next day shall we, dear reader?

you were on a walk, admiring the pretty flowers and trees that grew as yesterday’s past events kept replaying in your mind.

”ehh…it was probably nothing right? Furina wouldn’t say things like that. Yeah. It’s probably a joke..totally..mhm. Mhm. You’re totally overthinking this shit.” You muttered, thoughts racing in your mind until you heard some ladies gossip.

“Did you hear? Lady Furina is with MX. [name]!” “Huh? When did you hear this?” “Just a few hours ago! Apparently a courier walked in them having a moment.” “Ahhhh! How embarrassing!” “I’d say that the courier was more embarrassed…”

Okay. You did not. Expect this at all. Rumours…really do get around quickly huh?

You sighed, a tinest hint of a smile appeared on your lips. You…actually didn’t really mind the rumours. A warm feeling in your chest spread as you headed towards home ready to make pastries again.

you’ll tell her when you get the chance.

Rua’s extra notes: yes, yes! So in the end, Furina got what she wanted!! Reader ends up confessing first :D

Reblogs are appreciated!! @ruanais2023 do not repost, translate without permission

[theroyalthornoliachronicles]

Château de Clèrisseau: 24 Mai 1850, 13:10

Vicomte de Vignieu: I can understand this might be a bit of a shock to you, but you must know my affections for you have been all that possess me night and day, hour by hour, breath by breath. We have known one another for years, Eleanor. I would be humbled and honoured to swear to both God and man to care for you 'til the end of my days.

Mademoiselle Eleanor: Albert...I'm speechless.

Vicomte de Vignieu: You need not say anything, I assure you. Your surprise gives me nothing but pleasure, to see you without words only confirms what I've always known.

Mademoiselle Eleanor: Oh?

Vicomte de Vignieu: You were meant to be mine. And I yours.

Mademoiselle Eleanor: I confess your words are flattering-

Vicomte de Vignieu: Ton père has already given me his blessing. I could invite your family to our summer home in Douchynes after the Prix de Thornolie, and we could announce our engagement then.

Mademoiselle Eleanor: Albert, it's too soon-

Vicomte de Vignieu: You will love it there. I can show you round the gardens, take you to see the roses we exhibited at la Fête des Fleurs. The very roses that remind me of you, ma rose des champs. I-

Mademoiselle Eleanor: Albert, s'il vous plaît.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Pardonnez-moi. It is merely that your words have brought me so much joy I find myself getting carried away.

Mademoiselle Eleanor: [Deep Breath] Monsieur, I-

Vicomte de Vignieu: Monsieur? Surely we can dispense with honourifics, should we not?

Mademoiselle Eleanor: Monsieur....I cannot marry you.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Quoi?

Mademoiselle Eleanor: I cannot accept your proposal...as thoughtful and as impassioned as it was.

Vicomte de Vignieu: I...I don't understand...

Mademoiselle Eleanor: Despite your kind and gentile nature, you and I could never truly be happy together. Not when this proposal has more to do with your childhood rivalry with Oliver than it does with me as a woman.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Eleanor, I can assure you-

Mademoiselle Eleanor: You seem to forget I too grew up alongside all of you despite the long absences for my studies. I remember how Oliver would wind you up, how you would do the same to him. I may be a woman, but please do not insult my intellect by telling me your proposal is anything more than another way to get under Oliver's skin.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Eleanor-

Mademoiselle Eleanor: Albert, I am sorry, but I simply cannot accept you. My answer cannot be swayed.

Vicomte de Vignieu: So you've made your decision then. It's him.

Mademoisele Eleanor: Why does it matter?

Vicomte de Vignieu: [Sighs] It doesn't...I spoke out of turn. I should be off. I've taken too much of your time already this afternoon. Bonne journée, Mademoiselle Valery.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[acanth3]

追憶＊マリオネットの糸の先 / Reminiscence＊End of the Marionette's Strings

EPISODE 1

Mika: Hmmm? Only 30 minutes till’ our live and Nazuna-nii isn’t here yet…

Shu: Kagehira. Quit shaking, it’s uncomfortable. To rephrase it, it’s vulgar.

Don’t get distracted just because nobody is watching us, Valkyrie must always remain graceful.

If you behave unsightly I won't allow you to go up on stage. Understand? 

Whether you are there or not, it won't matter. 

Mika: Nnnnh, I’m sorry Oshi-san Standin’ around in the same place gets annoyin’. Is it okay if I follow you for a bit? 

Shu: Don't move on your own, even if you walk just a little you’ll soon forget what you have to do. 

As far as I’m worried you’ll ruin your costume.

Mika: Nnnh? Osh-san is worried about me~? I’m so happy.

Shu: What I’m worried about is the costume, not you! Just how much effort do you think went into tailoring the costume?

Kagehira, just take responsibility. 

It’s not something easy where you can just wash it if it gets dirty.

Mika: Nnnn~ I’m happy with our matchin' costumes. Oshi-san makes new costumes every live performance

So refreshin’ ♪

This is our general costume for Valkyrie right? Ha~ It’s cool, make us look like antique dolls ♪

Shu: It’s not supposed to create a nostalgic feeling, but the trend where it’s good if it’s new...I can’t stand it. 

I’m used to tailoring these kinds of costumes, I’m the only one who can prepare/tailor the costumes on my own. ♪

Mika: Nnnn, Mado-nee is also wearin' a matching costume! Cute~♪

Shu: That’s right, that’s right, praise more.

Rather than wearing it just because it looks cute on Mademoiselle, it’s only natural it looks good because I designed it. 

You too...Well it only looks good on you because you’re only good appearance-wise. 

Mika: Eh? Really? I’m happy~ Oshi-san has praised me~♪

Shu: Don't jump around! It would be a problem if you hooked your clothes somewhere, you careless person.

Nazuna: …..

Mika: Nnnhn!? I was surprised... Nazuna-nii how long have you been standin’ there? It’s quite late, I was worried! 

Nazuna: ….. 

Mika: Don’t act so intimidatin’! I’m older than you Nazuna-nii. I wont know what to do if you suddenly bowed yer head~...

Nazuna: …..?

Mika: Nnnn? Lookin’ at the costume? This is our basic Valkyrie costume, I get to match with you Nazuna-nii~♪

Nazuna: …..♪

Mika: Yeah! I think it looks great too! I’m sure it’ll look good on you too, Nazuna-nii.

Shu: Kagehira. Just shut up for a little bit. 

...It’s very late, Nito

Nazuna: …..

Shu: Well I’d say it’s okay, hurry get dressed. Your costume is over there. 

It’ll be difficult to wear it yourself, I’ll help you. 

Nazuna: ….. nods head 

Shu: Aaa, Nito, Nito, Nito…♪ My perfectly tuned, beautiful lovely marionette. Even today as well, you are perfect…☆

It’s a miracle of God given by heaven.

It’s such a shame to share this brilliant frame to average people in this world, I wish to keep it all to myself…♪

But unfortunately it cannot happen. 

Those insects are very disturbing these few days, so we have to defeat them. In order to do that we need you. 

Don’t worry, I’ll clean up this mess soon. 

Because it’s ‘fine’ we’re up against I thought what it would be like against Tenshouin, but after all, it’s child's play. 

They are not only the enemy of Valkyrie, of course there are others snobs within our eyes.

Let’s kick it all away, destroy it and pack it into a cheap stuffed toy♪

These days, including me, there’s a group called ‘ The 5 Eccentrics’ and so on.

At this point, everyone seems to be watching us silently. There is nothing in this world that tunes out our reign/superiority. 

Just a little more and this world will turn into a beautiful exhibition designed by me. 

It won't take long, just a little more patience. 

Nazuna: …..nods head

Shu: Nito, cute little rabbit…let's create a perfect world for you with no dust.

First of all, let’s begin to prepare for this showcase. 

Even if you spare the trouble of helping us, it’s still troublesome. 

Separated from the fools and the weak… let’s only bring the most beautiful and valuable into heaven.

Now, the beginning of a fun puppet show~ KaKaKaKa ♪

notes: i love shu sm im gonna die

[the-fiction-witch]

The mademoiselle P3

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Adorable!

Warnings: Amputation / 1800's surgery / ether/ body horror

I couldn't help but move an ottoman over to sit on, and I looked closely at the amputation, I had been done... terribly, even just from this look I could tell this must have caused her agony even before weight bearing, the skin overstretched and warped, the thread used to sew up the amputation had never been removed, skin partly healed around it, it wasn't even surgical thread it was twine! fraying and splintering as old twine does, 

"what on gods earth-" I muttered bringing a candle closer to better see what fucked up nonsense was happening here, "Who did this!"

"A clown."

"Yeah, I think he was,"

"No, he really...really was."

"He was a clown?"

"Yes."

"An actual... actual clown!"

"Yes."

"Uhhhh you mind telling me what happened?"

"It's a very long story. I was in an accident and he was the only person nearby with any form of training and here we are." She explained, 

"Okay, I take it it's causing you more pain than usual?"

"Yes doctor, I can barely walk let alone perform." 

"well that's certainly no good, I've heard of the magic of your performances. Wouldn't want to deprive anyone of that."

She blushed a little, "Well is there anything you can do doctor?"

"Uhh... I can give you some painkillers they should help your walking but If I may be so bold, I think it would be wise to have a doctor really look it over, when was the last time someone looked at it?"

"When it was done."

"Which was?"

"Twelve years ago." 

"Alright, tomorrow come up to the hospital and I'll take a real proper look see what's going on. you sure it hasn't had any other work in that time?"

"Mild stuff, cutting back skin, infection control and such."

"Right, and not once has anyone suggested ... further amputation?"

"A couple of times, but I need to dance so we always just did the minimum."

"Alright, come by tomorrow whenever you can," I told her as I gave her some medicine 

"I will, thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome mademoiselle," I told her as I took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss, "Have a nice evening."

"You too doctor Dawkins," she smiled, 

I took my bag and headed out filling in the paperwork as I went, as soon as I got back to my room I collapsed on my bed, I don't know why I felt so... conflicted, that I had looked at her pictures and desired her so much when... she must have been in agony to do it. I felt guilty about it, like It was my fault she was in pain. I took my box from under my bed and looked at the various postcards, I looked at her in these poses and situations and noticed how often they had her sitting down, how often the drawings stopped at her knees, or hidden by dresses, all of it to hide her away. I wanted to help her out I didn't want her to feel any more pain. 

I made sure to clean up as I knew the mademoiselle was coming in today, and soon enough Hetty came and told me I had someone here to see me. So I fixed myself up and headed into one of the small patient rooms, and saw the mademoiselle sitting on the bed with a nervous smile.

"Bonjour docteur Dawkins,"(Hello Doctor Dawkins)  She smiled,

"Bonjour mademoiselle," (Hello mademoiselle) I smiled back, "Quelle belle robe tu portes aujourd'hui," (What a beautiful dress you are wearing today) 

"merci beaucoup docteur" (Thank you very much doctor) she blushed, 

"Now, lets have a look." I told her, "if you could?"

"Alright," she sighed, sitting back on the bed and unlacing her boots letting them fall to the floor, I got my tools and had a much better look really investigating and it was worse than I suspected and I think she knew that too as the longer it went on the more grim her face got,

"You know what I'm going to say," I told her, 

"You think I need a further amputation?"

"I don't think I know." I sighed leaning on the metal bed, "I know this is a big decision with you, but if I don't do this, you are going to get worse... and you could die."

"I don't really have much of a choice do I?"

"I can't in good conscience let you go without at least letting me do an operation to pull back the skin and at least remove the twine."

"Alright, When can you do it?"

"I can get you into the surgery theatre today."

She nodded, 

"Alright, I'll make sure everything is sorted I'll get you in as soon as possible." 

I made sure to get the theatre prepped while she got some stuff delivered by her maid, And soon enough Hetty brought her in,

"Right, Up Here mademoiselle," I smiled helping her up onto the table, "Just relax I promise I'll take care of you."

"I do hope so." She nervously nodded lying on the table, 

"Okay," I nodded fetching the ether, "Just breathe gently for me, when you wake up this will all be over," I reassured her she nodded and did as I asked slowly drifting off until she was gone. "Okay... Let's do this." I told Hetty that I needed her as my nurse, I quickly got to work revealing the true situation and it was bad. The skin was stretched and infected in places, with dirt and grime under her skin, the bone had been left as a sharp splintering point as if broken by hand not cut in the amputation, 

"Oh my -" Hetty gasped,

"I know,"

"How'd it happen?"

"she wouldn't say, I don't imagine it was good," I answered, I did my best to save it but amputation was the only option so I did as low as I could just under her knee and made sure to sew it up in a way that made it look as good as I could, once I was done Hetty took her back to her room so I cleaned up and went on with my other work, After a good while I went to her room to go and check on her, seeing her sat up in the bed with a box in her lap, "Bonjour mademoiselle," 

"Hello Doctor," she said looking through her box,

"How do you feel?" I asked sitting beside her 

"Humm... Like I lost weight," she chuckled playfully glancing at her leg which made me chuckle a little, "It still hurts, which is odd. As it's not there."

"The phantom limb will fade."

"I know, I remember when they took my foot, it itched for days but it wasn't there." She said, "Thank you, doctor, most doctors I've seen just do what I ask... not what I need."

"You're very welcome." I smiled, "And uhh you can just call me Jack,"

"Alright, Jack." She smiled, "Y/n." 

"Y/n? That's a very beautiful name." 

"Thank you," She blushed, "I'm going to take a guess and say you know who I am?"

"I do. I uhhhh" I blushed, "I spent a lot of time in the navy growing up, your postcards... gave me a lot of peace then. And still do now."

she chuckled, "I'm glad I could be of such, Peace to you." She smiled gently taking my hand, I smiled and held her hand tightly, "I can't thank you enough Jack, though... I'm not sure what the future holds now."

"I wouldn't be so quick to be fearful, not much has really changed trust me... Most people won't even notice. You're far too beautiful for people to be looking at your feet."

She laughed, "I guess so. The postcards won't change that much."

"No, not really. But... I'll still look forward to seeing them. I'll pick up your next one just to show you so." I winked 

"Humm... I'll send you it special," She smiled squeezing my hand,

"How did it happen? if you don't mind my asking?"

She seemed sad but flicked through her box before she handed me a postcard with a beautiful young girl, a ballerina dancing on a stage. "I wasn't always a showgirl, That was me... Once."

"My god- You were beautiful."

"Where?"

"Are- sorry I-"

"It's alright, I spent my whole life wanting to be a dancer classically trained from three, My father worked every hour god sent just to get me into ballet school." She explained, "I was so happy when got a job at the royal opera as a ballerina."

"Impressive."

"They were talking about me like I was something special," She said, "my first tour and this one show we were out in the sticks, I went on and did my part but- the galley walkway above the stage collapsed, fell down to the stage below... By the grace of god, it fell where it did. A few inches to the left I'd be dead. But it crushed my foot" She explained, "I was losing blood so fast, my foot wrecked beyond repair. The nearest doctor ten miles away, the only person in the company who had any training... was one of the men playing a clown in the opera, He had some medical training but nothing near what was needed but- time was not on our side. So they did what they could and took my foot there and then on the stage." She explained, 

"How old were you?"

"Eighteen."

"What happened? Once it healed?"

"I healed while the rest of the tour went on and when we returned to the opera house... They tossed me away. Said I would never dance again. Wanted nothing to do with me. So I tried everywhere else but who wants a crippled dancer. The only place that would take me was a small club in pairs, they didn't want me to dance more just... take off my clothes. So I did. Learnt the violin, learnt how to perform in shows, named myself the mademoiselle, and... I suppose the rest is history." 

"For what is worth. I think you'd have made a beautiful ballerina."

"Thank you," she blushed, "But now... I'm not sure what to make of myself, I don't even know I can be a showgirl now."

"I'd pay to see you, still."

"You would?"

"Absolutely."

"even like this?"

"I would."

"That's very sweet of you." She smiled, "But if my boss doesn't feel the same... I don't know what I'd do, or where I'd go."

"Well... Port Victory is a little place, not much goes on here, it's full of those of us with nowhere else to go. You'd always be welcome here."  

"You think I would?"

"I'm sure you would," 

"What would I do?"

"Whatever you want, I'm sure a smart girl like you would find something." I smiled giving her back her ballerina picture, 

"I'm sure I'd find something, even if I just became some...business guy's wife."

"I think you could do a lot better than that"

"You do?"

"Yeah, I mean... I think you could end up a doctor's wife." 

"You really think so?"

"j'en suis sûr mademoiselle" (I'm sure of it mademoiselle) I smiled kissing her hand, "I'll leave you to rest." I smiled getting up to head back to work,

"Thank you, Jack."

"You're welcome Y/n." 

[maemisnippets]

Homebuddy (ft. Hwang Yeji)

The house smells of flowers, the candles light up the room, and the man inside is suited up waiting for his partner to arrive. You hear keys rattle outside the door, you excitedly wait with anticipation, you stand in front of the door with flowers in hand. The door swings open.

“Ahhhh! Don’t look at me! I’m a mess!” With her hands covering her face and in her dance outfit, she runs to her room like a gremlin, a cute one. She immediately shuts the bedroom door as she gets in. She shouts, “I’ll be out in a second! Let me fix myself up!”

“Take your time, honey!” Not the start you expected for this evening, but given the quirks and dynamics of your relationship, it is one that is very fitting. Can’t complain though given that you ordered takeout. You can’t cook and God forbid, she can’t either.

It doesn’t take her long to get ready. As you were waiting for your food in the microwave, the bedroom door swings open. Out comes the woman of the hour in her stunning black dress, Hwang Yeji. You approach her. You kiss her hand as you greet her.

“Oh my, you didn’t have to do all this,” she blushes at your act of chivalry as she looks around the room.

“It’s our second anniversary. Of course, I want it to be special.” As you say that, you hear a loud ding from the kitchen. “Food’s ready!”

You lead her to the table and pull out her chair for her. As she is sitting, you get your food from the microwave but place it on a tray so it seems fancy.

With the tray in hand and your terrible French accent, you entice her. “For our dinner, mademoiselle.”

“Ooh.” She is impressed.

“We have…” You take the lid off. “...mint choco chicken.” You immediately see the disappointment on her face.

You lose the French accent. “I’m just kidding. We have chicken and salad, and mint choco ice cream later, which we can eat over there.” You point to the couch, where a blanket and some pillows are already set up.

“I would love that,” she replies excitedly.

You and Yeji enjoyed the night eating and talking, and ended the night sleeping cuddling on the couch after watching La La Land for the nth time together.

[microcosme11]

Charlotte Robespierre mentions Bonaparte in her memoirs

Bonaparte had a very high regard for my two brothers, and especially for the eldest; he admired his talents, his energy, the purity of his patriotism and his intentions. So Bonaparte was sincerely a republican; I would even say that he was a montagnard republican; at least he had that effect on me by the way he looked at things at the time when I was in Nice. His subsequent victories turned his head and made him aspire to dominate his fellow citizens; but when he was only a general of artillery in the army of Italy, he was a partisan of broad liberty and true equality. One thing that has not been reported, as far as I know, by any historian of the revolution, is that after 9 Thermidor Bonaparte proposed to the representatives of the people who were on mission in the army of Italy, and who had succeeded my younger brother and Ricord, to march on Paris to punish the authors of the counter-revolutionary movement which had killed my two brothers. This bold proposal, revealing courage, an extraordinary spirit and patriotism, terrified the representatives, who hastened to repel him. 

I had known Madame Bonaparte when she was the wife of General Beauharnais; she had even then shown me a great deal of affection; and after the 9th Thermidor I had continued to see her. For some time she still received me with the same regard, but soon I noticed a change in the reception she gave me. The coldness and indifference which I had noticed in her redoubled to the point that I thought it my dignity to cease visits which seemed to me to be burdensome to her. Several times her door had been refused to me; one day, when I met her, I expressed my astonishment to her on this subject; she made a thousand apologies to me, and accompanied them with so many demonstrations of friendship, that I ingenuously believed that if I had not been able to penetrate as far as her, it was because of a misunderstanding. "When you want to honor me with your visit," she said to me, "name yourself, and immediately my door will be opened to you." I remembered this recommendation when, a few days later, I called on Madame Bonaparte; the concierge having told me that she was not there, I named myself, telling him that Madame Bonaparte herself had recommended me to state my name, and that I would immediately be received. "Eh, mademoiselle," replied the concierge in a tone that was half mocking and half curt, "Madame says the same thing to everyone, and she's home to no one." It was all the insolence of a grande dame of the court of Louis XV. 

Bonaparte's admiration for my elder brother, his friendship for my younger brother, and perhaps also the interest which my misfortunes inspired in him, enabled me to obtain a pension under the consulate. When Bonaparte was First Consul I was advised to ask him for an audience. I had no resources; since the death of my brothers I received the hospitality of my respectable and excellent friend, M. Mathon, who had been their friend and who was from Arras like us. Bonaparte received me perfectly, spoke to me of my brothers in very flattering terms, and told me that he was ready to do everything for their sister: "Speak, what do you want?" he said to me. I explained my position to him; he promised to take it into consideration; in fact, a few days later I received the patent for a pension of 3,600 francs.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

The Pétion playing with the dog anecdote is so sweet. Could you do a pet compilation? I know there’s Brount and that Couthon had a dog (and a bunny?), but that’s all I’m aware of.

That’s a great idea!

Is the puppy (petit chien) you are raising for my sister as pretty as the model you showed me when I passed through Bélhune? Whatever it is, we will always welcome it with distinction and pleasure. We can even say that, however ugly it may be, it will always be lovely. Robespierre to ”a young girl” in a letter dated June 6 1788

[Robespierre] had a dog, named Brount, that he loved a lot; the poor animal was very attached to him. Le Conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901) page 107

At Madame de Kéralio’s I have seen [Robespierre] hold himself apart for an hour, playing with a big dog. Anecdote reported in 1791 by Charles-Engelbert Oelsner, cited in Robespierre: a revolutionary life (2010) by Peter McPhee, page 94.

On these occasions [Robespierre] was always accompanied by a large dog , of the Pyrenean breed, of which he was very fond. Strange to say, several of these monstrous anomalies of the Reign of Terror, were most partial to animals; and the ferocious Couthon would shed tears when his favourite spaniel was ill. Robespierre's dog always kept watch at the door of his master's bed-chamber. […] [Robespierre] appeared to me like a bird of prey — a vulture; his forehead and temples were low, and flattened; his eyes were of a fawn colour, and most disagreeable to look at; his dress was careful, and I recollect that he wore a frill and ruffles, that seemed to me of valuable lace. There were flowers in various parts of the room, and several cages, with singing birds, were hanging on the walls and near the window, opening on a small garden.  Recollections of Republican France 1790 to 1801 by John Gideon Millingen, page 283-284 and 288.

[Maximilien] rarely shared the games and pleasures of his comrades; he liked to be alone to think at his ease, and passed entire hours reflecting. He had been given pigeons and sparrows which he took the greatest care of, and close to which he often came to pass the moments which he did not consecrate to his studies. […] We were sent, my sister and I, to go join our two brothers every Sunday. These were days of happiness and joy for us. My brother Maximilien, who collected images and engravings, displayed his riches and was happy with the pleasure of seeing that we felt they should be contemplated. He also gave us the honors of his aviary, and placed his sparrows and pigeons, one after another, into our hands. We strongly desired that he should give us one of his favorite birds; we solicited this with entreaties; he refused for a long time, fearing that we would not take the best possible care of them. Yet one day, he ceded to our insistences, and gave us a pretty pigeon. My sister and I, we were enchanted. He made us promise to never let it lack for anything; we swore thus a thousand times, and kept our word for a few days, and moreover we would have kept our oath forever if the unhappy pigeon, forgotten by us in the garden, had not perished on a stormy night. At the news of this death, Maximilien’s tears flowed, he piled reproaches on us that we had only too well merited, and swore that he would no more confer any of his dear pigeons on us. It was sixty years ago that by a childish flightiness I was the cause of my elder brother’s chagrin and tears: and well! My heart bleeds for it still; it seems to me that I have not aged a day since the tragic end of the poor pigeon was so sensitive to Maximilien, such that I was affected by it myself. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1833) page 47-49

Talking of so important a subject, shall I be pardoned, Mademoiselle, if I speak to you of canaries?  No doubt I shall be if the canaries are interesting; and how could they not, considering they come from you? They are very pretty, and, being bred by you, we expected them to be the most gentle and sociable of canaries. What was our surprise when, upon approaching the cage, they threw themselves against the bars with an impetus which made us fear for their lives! They recommence this performance every time they see the hand that feeds them. What plan of education did you adopt for them, and how have they acquired this savage character? Do the doves that the Graces rear for the chariot of Venus display this wild temperament? Such a face as yours should surely have familiarized without difficulty your canaries with the human face.   Or is it that, after seeing yours, they cannot tolerate any other? I beg of you to explain this phenomenon. Meanwhile, with all their faults, we shall always find them lovable. My sister begs me to express her thanks for your kindness in sending her this present, and to assure you of the affection with which you have inspired her. Robespierre to mademoiselle Duhay in a letter dated June 22 1782

He detests violent entertainments, and when M. Deshorties spoke to him this very evening in front of me of going on a hunt, M. de Robespierre, only responding by a refusal of his head, gently moved away the firearms that were shown to him. This gesture was imbued with a kind of repugnance. I even saw a kind of tear glint and a bitter smile form on his lips when we talked about the prey that we would infallibly bring back. He is seen as the greatest lover of the pigeons with which he coos. […] I have taken detailed notes on all this from one of his friends, with whom he is lodging on rue de Saintonge. This friend, like M. de Robespierre, is a great lover of birds;  they have raised several hundred birds in a fine aviary; these gentlemen are skilled bird-keepers even if they are not deputies of the first rank. Mémoires tirés des archives de la police de Paris: pour servir à l’historie de la morale et la police(1838) by J. Peuchet, volume 5, page 340-342. The historian Hector Fleischmann questioned the authenticity of this report, given the fact he could see few reasons for police to investigate Robespierre back in 1789-1790.

I was able to converse between 1838 and 1839 with a  famous parrot who had been the friend of Robespierre. He belonged to Mme the widow Lebas...whom I had the honour of seeing often in her little house in Fontenay-aux-Roses, where she would make the sign of the cross when she pronounced the name Robespierre... As to her parrot, when one said "Robespierre", it replied Hats off! Hats off! (Chapeau bas! chapeau bas!)  It sang the Marseillaise with perfect diction and Ça ira like a Jacobin. It was - and perhaps, thanks to its diet of grain, still is - a parrot sans-culotte, the like of which can no longer to be found. Mme Lebas recounted  with great emotion how she had managed to save this precious psittacus  after Thermidor.  It had been seriously compromised.  After the arrest of Robespierre and Lebas, in the course of a long domiciliary inspection,  every time the name of Robespierre was pronouned the parrot would repeat its refrain, Hats off! Hats off! The government agents had grown impatient and were about to wring its neck, when Mme Lebas, as quick as lightning,  grabbed the bird, opened the window and set it free. The poor parrot flew from window to window, until it found a charitable person to open up for it; a few days later Madame Lebas was able to regain possession of this last friend left to her by Robespierre, the only one perhaps, besides his elderly mistress, who has remained faithful to his memory. L’Union médicale: journal des intérêts scientifiques et pratiques, moraux et professionnels du corps médical (1861) volume 12, page 258-259. This anecdote is a bit suspect, because how would Élisabeth be able to go and fetch the parrot ”a few days” after the arrest of Robespierre when she herself was arrested just three days after it?

My husband had a dog named Schillichem, of a German breed; he only returned three days after the death of his master; he was panting, his tongue hanging out; that poor beast had passed that time on his master's grave.  Le conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et mémoires de sa veuve (1901) page 145

Embrace Henriette for me. Schillickem (sic) caresses me a lot and I hug him back. Letter from Philippe to Élisabeth Lebas, May 16 1794

[Couthon] wore a white dressing-gown, and on his arm was a young bunny which he was feeding with clover. His son, an angelically beautiful boy of three or four, alternately stroked his father's hand and the pretty white animal. These innocent sourroundings and Couthon's great affability charmed me. […] Persuaded that Couthon was sincere I said to him: ”Monsieur Couthon, you who are all-powerful on the Committee of Public Safety, are you aware that the Revolutionary Tribunal daily condemns unfortunate men who are accused of the same crime as these magistrates? This very day, Monsieur Couthon, sixty-three prisoners are to be executed under this pretext.” This reflection produced an indescribable effect on Couthon: his face became distorted and assumed a tiger-like expression... He made a movement. The bunny was overturned and the child, weeping, rushed into his mother's arms. Extract from the memoirs of Maurice André Gaillard, cited in Romances of the French Revolution (1909) by G. Lenotre, volume 1, page 171-172

During the Constituent Assembly, at the time of the revision, I was one day with Buzot's wife, when her husband returned from the Assembly very late, bringing Pétion to dinner. It was the time when the court had them treated as factious, and painted them as intriguers, all occupied in stirring up and agitating. After the meal, Pétion, seated on a large ottoman, began to play with a young hunting dog with the abandonment of a child; they both let go and fell asleep together, snuggled on top of each other: four people conversing did not prevent Pétion from snoring. ”So here we have this rebel,” said Buzot, laughing; ”we were looked askance on leaving the room, and those who accuse us, very agitated for their party, imagine that we are to maneuver!” Mémoires de Madame Roland, volume 2, page 167

I had crossed the yard and was going to my carriage while finishing a conversation with an old sans-culotte, certainly well paid to indoctrinate the dupes. A cute dog ​​pressed itself against my legs. “Is this poor animal yours? said my coachman to me, with an accent of sensibility very rare in his equals, and which struck me singularly. "No, I don't know it," I replied gravely, as if it were a person, and already thinking of something else entirely: ”Drop me off at the galleries of the Louvre.” I wanted to see a friend there to talk about the means of getting Roland out of Paris. But we had only gone twenty foot when the carriage stopped. "What is it?” I said to the coachman. ”Well! he left me like a fool, while I wanted to keep him for my little boy, who would have fun with it: Petit! Petit! come here!” I remembered the dog; I found it sweet and agreeable to have a good man, a sensible father, as my coachman at this hour. “Try to catch it, I shouted to him, put it in the carriage and I will guard it for you.” The good man, very happy, takes the dog, opens the door and gives me company. This poor animal seemed to feel that she was finding protection and asylum; I was well caressed, and I remembered this tale by Saadi, which depicts an old man, the last of men, repulsed by their passions, retired to a forest where he had made a dwelling. He animated his stay with a few animals which paid for his care with the affectionate testimonies of a gratitude to which he had confined himself, failing to find so much in his fellows. Mémoires de Madame Roland, volume 2, page 81-82

Fréron often visited madame Duplessis country house at Bourg-la-Reine and every time he played with the bunnies there. Hence the nickname Bunny (Lapin) that was given to him by Lucile. Footnote in Correspondance inédite de Camille Desmoulins (1836) by Marcellin Matton. Matton was a friend of Lucile’s mother and sister, and it’s probably from them he acquired this anecdote.

Monsieur Duplessis, his cabinet, the fireplace, My sister and I know you must go to the countryside one day this week. Do you remember that you for more than fifteen days have promised to bring you with us there? You told me, that if I learned Zaire, you would give me whatever I wanted. I already know it almost by heart, papa, and I’m dying to see the little piglets. My sister joins me to ask of you this same favor, and to present you the respectable attachment with which we are, my dear papa, your very humble servants. Lucile and Adèle. Undated note from child Lucile Desmoulins, probably written sometime in the 1780’s.

We have gotten ducks, I went to see them. […] I ate gooseberries, and then I was alone in the pavilion, I picked a little hornbeam which I brought to Lolotte, then I I was dreaming in the grove. Lucile Desmoulins’ diary, June 28 1788

After dinner I went for a walk in the grove. I had fun breaking dead wood, then I found a snail. I examined it a little, I broke its shell, but having fallen onto my stomach it made me cry out loud, because this ugly beast was crawling on my stomach! I made a big hole and buried it. In two or three days I will go and see what has become of it. Lucile’s diary, June 30 1788

An hour after leaving you yesterday, citoyenne amie, I gave Horace his snake (couleuvre), which he saw again with tenderness, and they played together to fully reconnect. Letter from Panis to Annette Duplessis regarding Horace Desmoulins, dated March 1 1802. If anyone has a more logical translation, alternatively knows if snakes were optional pets in the 19th century, feel free to share! 

Georges Couthon at the Convention with a small dog, sketch by Dominique Vivant Denon from 1793.

Robespierre with a small dog, painting by Louis-Léopold Boilly from 1783.

[harlowtales]

Reader x Jack have tension as she tells him on short notice she’s going to intern in Paris. Jack makes a big decision in a big way.

STORY WITHIN A STORY: Gender reveal party

****light smut, drama, romance**** 18+ ZONE

“So you came back why” you said flatly.

“No attitude this time.” Jack said “Can I come in?” Assuming you would say yes he moved past you into your apartment.

“Ummm sure come on in” You said half-heartedly

“Ok what you saw was just her leaving my house because I told her to leave.” He explained

“Yeah we’ve been over this and I don’t care.” You said digging your heels in.

“Dammit!” Jack said pounding his fist on your kitchen table

“Do you need to leave again Jackman because I really like that table. You gave it to me.” You said moving closer to him.

As you went closer Jack pulled you close. He was sitting down and buried his face in your stomach. You ran your fingers through his freshly washed curls. You knew you would forgive him of anything, but you didn’t have to like it.

“Baby I…” he started

“Shhhh. Please. I’m ok.” You said assuring him “I have something to tell you anyway.

Jack thought you were taking the situation unusually well. He tensed up and looked up at you with his big blue eyes and long lashes.

“I’m going to France.” You said

“Ok, so when will you be back?” Jack asked cautiously. Lots of people go to France. What was the big deal?

“For a year. I leave in a few weeks, you’ll be doing movie promo so that really boils it down to maybe a week. I’m so sorry. I came over to tell you and saw that bitch at your house and then thought I would never tell you and just disappear, but I could never live with myself.” You hurriedly explained

Jack stood up and started walking around the room. He was playing with the hairs under his lip and pacing which meant he was deep in thought. He did not say a word for a good few minutes.

“Jack?” You asked trying to make him stop moving around.

“I’m in love with you.” He said looking directly at you now with pain in his eyes as they started to look glassy.

You gasped in shock. You knew it was more than a casual relationship, but you didn’t expect this. When your job said there was an opportunity to go to France you jumped at it. Now you stood speechless as it looked like he was about to cry.

You walked over to him and enveloped him in a warm embrace. Had you known his feelings you would have said no to the opportunity. You started to cry. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” You said as you tried to contain your sadness to be able to speak.

“I don’t typically tell girls that because of my life.” He said tired and winded. It was taking more of a toll on him than he imagined. “I gotta go. I’m sorry, maybe I’ll call you later. I need air.” He said heading for the door.

All you could do was let him go. “For what it’s worth, had I known I would’ve said no.” You said. Your words trailing behind him as he walked away.

“Then I would be very disappointed in you.” He said stopping and turning to face you and taking your hand. “You’re too fucking amazing. I would want nothing less than for you to go.” He said “Can I come hold you in Paris?”

You started uncontrollably bawling with your face in your hands. “Hold me now…Please Jack.” You said, now a crumbling mess.

“I gotta go bubby.” He said kissing you on the top of your head. He got into his Jeep and drove off. You watched him round the corner and fade away.

PART 2

“Bonjour Mademoiselle.” The man at the desk said as you entered your apartment lobby

“Bonjour Claude” you said yawning. You hadn’t really seen much of France. Work hours were quite long and then you were too tired to take in much.

Your apartment had a beautiful view where you could see the Eiffel Tower far in the distance but seeing it all lit up even far away kept you hopeful that one day he would come visit.

You spoke to Jack on FaceTime almost every day at first. After a few months it died down to about a couple times a month. You knew he was still struggling with the fact that you left. You had a great dinner planned. Just a baguette, some creamy pasta with white wine. The French knew how to eat and you had put on a few lbs! Jack commented on one FaceTime that you looked good and “healthy” as he put it.

You put on his music and began to cook. Soon a lovely aroma was filling your small kitchen, the doors to the balcony were flung open and “Little Secret” filled the Paris air. You chuckled to yourself remembering something silly he used to do. Then the joy of the memory turned to tears trickling down your cheeks without you noticing. You snapped out of it and opened your laptop to watch some Netflix while you ate. No matter what you did he kept invading your thoughts.

Suddenly you heard a familiar voice from down below call out to you. You froze. “No way…it couldn’t be. He hasn’t called in weeks. You slowly peeked over the balcony railing to see Jack climbing up the fire escape ladder with a rose in his teeth. A crowd had gathered around to watch this display of affection to screams and cheers. The French loved romance that’s for sure!

When he got to your floor he took the rose from his teeth and handed it to you. He flashed a big smile and pulled you in kissing you passionately. Loud cheers erupted from down below. Jack loved the attention. You held onto him but hadn’t said a word yet. You were happy, embarrassed, and crying all at the same time. “You ain’t happy to see me bubby?” He said kicking off his favourite 550’s and relaxing on your couch. “Nice crib” he said approvingly looking around.

You were still staring at him in disbelief. You still had the rose in your hand standing in one spot not moving.

“You look thick and real good.” He said with a smile in his low sexy drawl.

“You…um look really good too.” You said screaming inside. His hair was longer, he was wearing glasses, a navy Moncler polo shirt, and jeans. Fucking jeans. He looked good enough to jump on but you kept your cool.

“Why you just standing there?” He asked with a grin. He knew the effect he had on you especially surprising you like this. “Come to daddy.” He said patting the spot next to him on the couch.

You of course obeyed. You couldn’t help it and he knew it. “So…. You just be climbing up fire escapes in your free time after weeks of not calling?” You questioned furrowing your brow.

Jack thought it was so cute when you were annoyed which made you more irritated. He placed a hand on your thigh and looked you deep in your eyes. The intense eye contact made you drop your eyes. He lifted up you chin and saw how much you had started to cry and were shaking. “Put the rose down and let’s talk.” He said warmly.

“Where have you been?” You fired angrily

“Kentucky.” He replied “Dad got sick so I went off the grid for a while. I’m sorry.”

“Jack I’m so sorry. I feel so stupid and selfish.” You apologized

“Well with my track record how were you supposed to know?” He reasoned “Probably thought I moved on, but I don’t think that’s possible for me.” He said stroking your hair lovingly. The sun started to go down. He got up and walked over to the balcony, stepping out into the twinkling night. You followed and held him around his waist resting your head on his back. “You don’t understand, I’m always in control” he said gazing into the distance at the Tower. “I was miserable after you left. Couldn’t even focus in the studio. I called less and less because I was in too much pain.”

You just held onto him harder not ever wanting to let go. “Can we just stay like this?” You said wistfully

“My thoughts exactly.” He said breaking the embrace and turning you around

Just then there was a knock at your door. Jack smiled and said “Answer the door baby”

A man dressed as a restaurant server holding a bottle of wine and looking at a delivery sheet said in broken English “ummm Jack…ummm Harlow?”

“He’s not here.” You said protectively. What the hell was going on? Ain’t no way some weird shit was going down on Jack on your watch.

“Baby its ok.” Jack laughed coming to the door. “Her bark is worse than her bite. He joked as he kissed you. “Come on in.” He said waving the man in.

You were completely confused as you saw a few men dressed as servers come into your apartment. One with a wine bottle, one started setting a table with a candle, roses, and place settings for 2. He held a chair out for you and motioned over for you to sit. Jack sat as well with a huge grin on his face as he saw how completely surprised you were.

“What’s all this?” You said gleefully with your hands on your mouth in awe

“Just a lil sumn I thought would cheer you up.” He said winking.

You both enjoyed a full course French meal in front of your open balcony doors. As the server played a violin. Jack had thought of everything. The lights of Paris like fireflies outside. You and Jack giggled and laughed so hard for hours. You drank more than half the bottle of wine yourself as Jack got refills of water from the waiter. “Not even one glass with me?” You said pouting and giggling

Jack amazed at your beauty in the candlelight and seeing you so happy knew it was time. He drew a deep breath reached into his pocket pulling out a small box. He put it on the table and nudged it towards you. You stopped breathing, looking at the box and then back at him. You didn’t say a word, but swallowed hard and started to sweat.

“Now I know you’re very independent baby.” He said “So I’m not here to pressure you”

“Oh my god yes!” You blurted

“Yes!!? But how do know what’s in the box? Could be a wad of chewed gum.” He laughed opening it and getting on one knee. You giggled uncontrollably and started to cry.

“Y/n…. Will you make me the happiest man in Kentucky and marry me?” Jack asked his blue eyes shining in the candlelight

“Yes! Oh my god yes yes yes!!” You exclaimed holding out your hand for him to place the ring on it.

The ring easily slipped onto your finger. Of course Jack knew your exact size. “I had it custom made in Paris.” He said

“Jack it’s gorgeous!” You said breathlessly as you admired how blinding and delicately beautiful it shone.

“Well it has competition with my beautiful wife.” He said sweetly.

You stood up to hold him and you both swayed to the violin as the Paris air cane in and sounds of the street floated up to your balcony. You locked in to a deep kiss. His full cherry lips caressing yours and your tongues intertwining.

“Now about those 8 daughters…” Jack said smiling

STORY 2: GENDER REVEAL

“Thank you just put the balloons over there” Maggie fussed. You were so grateful to have her there. Her mom and your mom were looking after everything, after all, you were about ready to burst. You knew what it was but you and Jack had kept the baby’s gender a secret the entire time. Not even Urban knew.

“Bruh’s like Fort Knox.” Urban said while dipping a chip at the elaborate snack table. “I don’t even know.” He told another guest who assumed being Jack’s best friend that he knew if it was a boy or a girl.

Jack entered the backyard of his parent’s house with flats of beer and water. “Where do you want these mom.” He said wiping his brow. It was summer in Kentucky and a very hot day. Jack had a white tank top on with sweat shorts, and 990’s of course.

Amazed at how hot your husband to be was and how horny you were seeing as you were pregnant you sat there eating a popsicle staring at him. Across the yard he made eye contact with you and you put the whole popsicle in your mouth to mess with him. “Over there hunny.” Maggie said snapping him out of his trance staring back at you. “Hunny get out of those sweaty clothes and get ready. Everyone will be here soon.” Maggie ordered. He put down the flats of drinks and headed inside to freshen up as his mom said.

After awhile nobody was looking and you snuck inside the house and up the stairs. You tipi toed to your husband’s childhood bedroom and slowly cracked open the door. You heard him happily rapping an Andre 3000 verse as he dried off from his quick shower. You caught him at the perfect time. “Jesus baby!” Jack said jumping “Fucking little creeper.” He smiled “Da fuk you up to sneaking around my parent’s house?”

“Well, I saw how hot and sweaty you were and I thought I would come help you peel off those clothes but I see your doing fine so I’ll just dip” You went to head out knowing he would stop you.

“No you don’t.” He said pulling you back “Come here you little horn dog.” He said smiling as he pulled you in for a kiss. As he held you and kissed you his towel fell off his waist to the floor. You reached down and took his manhood in your hands gently starting to stroke it.

Jack moaned “Everyone is outside.”

“I’ll be quick.” You said sitting on the bed now facing his erect “on brick”situation as Jack would say. You pumped it a few times and spit on it before taking all of him into your warm mouth that was waiting to receive him.

Jack bent his head back letting out a deep moan. He looked down at you his damp curls hanging and ocean eyes focused on you taking his cock in and out of your mouth. You clenched his ass and paused with the whole shaft deep in your throat. Jack winced in painful pleasure “uughhh!” He let out. Pumping it some more as you took his sack of “kids” into your mouth he came in a huge climax and got you in the face. You squealed and laughed.

Jack stood there naked as he came down off the high. His lean abdomen rising and falling and his hands on his hips as he tried to regain his composure to face his family and act like he hadn’t just got an amazing blow job in his childhood bedroom. “You missed a spot baby.” He said between breaths “I think a bit got in your hair” he said making an attempt with his towel to clean you up.

“Thanks Jackman.” You laughed. Then you stood and kissed him. “Now get dressed because they are kicking they want to be known!”

“Thank you baby.” He said kissing you. “I love my little freak!” He said slapping you on the ass.

You left the room in a giggle and rejoined the party. Eventually Jack followed in a button up plaid shirt and cargo pants for the occasion. Everyone was eating drinking and dancing in the sun. Jack’s little cousins were running around squealing and popping balloons as Drama spun Jack’s hits. “Sup bruh’” Jack greeted Drama.

Drama smiled and caught Jack’s direction to cut the music. It was time. Everyone gathered around the balloon arch and the happy couple to find out if it was a boy or a girl. Jack looked around at all the people he loved. His parents, Clay, his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, Urban, all the Homies, Lake, Cannon, Drama and his kids, KY Engineering, Neemo and his kids, Gee and his kids, Druski and his girlfriend, Sunni, Twiggy, Copeland, and other KY friends, and everyone from your side. His eyes started to water as he put a hand on your stomach and spoke.

“Miss, I know you thought your daughter shouldn’t get mixed up with a rapper, but I hope I proved you wrong.” Jack said smiling looking over at your mom. She lovingly smiled back in approval. “Mom, I know you never thought I would settle down.” Jack said now turning to his mom “but I got my act together in a big way and I have you to thank you for keeping me on track. Plus dad would kill me if I got this beautiful girl pregnant and didn’t do right by her.” Jack shot a look over at his dad who nodded in agreement. “So right after I asked y/n to marry me we found out we were pregnant. I blame Paris!” Jack laughed sentimentally. “But I gotta say finding out I was going to be a dad was the best day of my life. So without further ado, me and the future Mrs. Harlow are about to reveal the gender of our little thing cooking in the oven.” He said.

Jack’s mom brought over a couple of white balloons filled with confetti in the colour of the baby’s sex. Jack looked at you and you looked at him. “Ready Bubs?” He asked you with a pin waiting to pop them. You nodded. “1….2…..3” he yelled. A pink number 3 with pink confetti burst into the air as they popped the balloons as Drama played “What’s Poppin”.

At first everyone was still and quiet. Your mother squealed and broke the silence. “3 BABIES???” She said jumping up and down running over to hug you and Jack. Everyone erupted in cheers and surprise. “3 girls?” You and Jack nodded and took the onslaught of hugs and pats on the back.

“Holy fuck bro!” Urban said in shock “I’m a fucking uncle of 3 like instantly.”

Jack had his arm around Urban. “My boys can fucking swim in a big way bro.” Jack said with fake humility.

“I thought your belly was super big but I didn’t want to make you feel bad” Maggie said lovingly rubbing your tummy. “Well I’ll be busy!” She said with joy.

After all the guests started trickling out, it was just down to a few of Jack’s buddies having drinks and talking on the lawn chairs as the sun started to go down. Drake and other celebrities FaceTimed Jack to congratulate him.

“3 that’s a lot bro. No more bitches for you.” Copelan said choking in a cloud of smoke as he took a pull off a joint. Jack really hadn’t stepped out on Y/N since the engagement so the comment made Jack defensive.

“I got incredible head this afternoon in my childhood room where I used to dream about girls like Y/N liking me, and the only thing you were dipping into was your chips in some dip out here bro.” Jack said in satisfaction looking over at you helping your mom and Maggie clean up. “I’m the luckiest fucking man in Kentucky.”

@itsyagirljaz @killatravtramp @jackmans-poison @jackharloww @jackharlowunseen @jacksmoviestar-deactivated20230 @jacks-daycare @a-moment-captured @angelbae05

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 6: Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90 - III. Poco allegretto

With the development of the case and between court hearings I’ve noticed some things in relationships between Vincent and Sandra. It could be seen in their small talks, glances and I was afraid to admit to myself that probably there was something between them that I couldn’t figure out but probably could understand completely. I was hoping that it was all my imagination. Because I didn’t want to admit to myself that I still felt something deep for Vincent, even though I used to cry my eyes out very late at night because of him.

______________________________________________________________

“What are you thinking about? It seems like you’re somewhere else all the time”, Vincent’s question brought me back to present, when I was lost in my thoughts again, when we were waiting for our cups of coffee early in the morning at one of local cafés in the center of Grenoble.

The distance between us was growing again, even though we spent all of our free time together either in cafes or at hotel room working on case and saying our thoughts and ideas. We never talked about something else. And I felt the growing hate towards him, and how everything collapsed because of him: our relationships, my love, my trust. I kept recalling it and couldn’t believe how did I agree to work with him after he hurt me like that. And now I saw him having little chats with Sandra, when we’re visiting her place, it irritated me even more, I felt like I was in a trap and I couldn’t escape it.

I hided my eyes by putting back my sunglasses on, lighted up my cigarette, inhaling smoke, and replied dryly:

“I don’t know, I just have these thoughts in my head, that’s all”

“What kind of thoughts?”

I gave Vincent a look which he couldn’t see behind my sunglasses:

“You know what kind of”

“No, I don’t. Tell me, Camille…”

I sighed loudly and put cigarette inside the ashtray even though I didn’t finish smoking it:

“I’m not in the mood of talking, monsieur Renzi, especially now and particularly about them. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather sit quietly and wait for my cup of coffee”

______________________________________________________________

During my studies monsieur Renzi and mademoiselle Cadieux were circling around between us not only when we were inside the university walls but also when we wanted to highlighted something: when we were angry or when we were happy, when we wanted to put extra attention on it.

Our meetings after that Jean-Paul’s birthday evening transformed into an affair: very deep and passionate one. We used to meet each other after classes, spending time together, kissing, hugging, talking about everything that worried us. It felt like I’ve finally met someone who could understand me and who could love me for who I am with all my insecurities, strangeness and my melancholy.

Of course, I didn’t forget about my studies: I had a lack of sleep, but I always came to university prepared to explain additional details about my degree essay and what I was planning to develop later, after the critique and tutorials. That’s how the rest of the autumn passed by. And so did December. We spent Christmas night together; it was my first time when I’ve visited Vincent’s place and it was my first time to spend night together with a man. It was thrilling, it was scary and yet it was significant and unexplainable at the same time.

I didn’t know how long would our affair last, I was living in the moment, afraid to think about the future, despite the fact that sometimes my thoughts let myself to think that it would be a long-lasting one. But it wasn’t. And during springtime, when everyone was falling in love our relationships were falling apart.

______________________________________________________________

“What do you think about Brahms?”, Vincent turned towards me, making me stop in the middle of the crowded street, when we were heading back to our hotels after one of those exhausted hearings which we had, when all the evidence was against us and neither my nor Vincent’s attempts were successful.

I looked closely at Renzi, figuring out what did he mean. He knew that I loved listening to classic music, and then I saw a poster behind his back, informing the citizens of Grenoble about the upcoming concert, dedicating to the music of Johannes Brahms. And the puzzle sorted out in my head.

“Positively.”

“Maybe he’s music will help us to relax a little, before the final fight”, Vincent smirked, also turning back and looking at the poster, “We honestly need that”

I just sighed, imagining how difficult it was going to be for us as lawyers, how tired I was, and how I wanted it to finally be over and how hard I wanted to get away from this place.

______________________________________________________________

During the whole concert I had a strange feeling that I was listening to the music and I wasn’t there at the same time: for some seconds I thought that I was looking at myself from the side, catching Vincent’s gaze at the same time. Funny how it was irritating me, because of all those glances that I’ve seen between him and Sandra, and it felt like he was playing some kind of the unfunny joke on me: baiting my interest again, forgetting how painful it was for me when we were breaking up.

The concert was almost over, when I heard my most favourite piece from Brahms: Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90 - III. Poco allegretto. It is very beautiful, mesmerizing, sad and cheerful at the same time, the emotions that a person can feel when listening to it are unexplainable. In one moment, I felt something running down my right cheek: it didn’t occur to me that tears were coming down my eyes and I felt embarrassing and angry at myself at the same time: I didn’t want to let Vincent see my tears. I realized that it was all my emotions which was trying to keep inside me were suddenly bursting out: the space inside of me was full.

I glanced at Renzi, when was imperceptibly trying to wipe away the tears with the back of my hand, hoping that he didn’t see them. I didn’t want to leave my seat, even though I felt myself awful and embarrassed, promising myself to cry all of my anger and sadness out in the dark hotel room. Luckily my companion looked at me only when the music finished and my tears were dry. And I was holding on with all my might so as not to run out of the concert hall on that exact moment.

______________________________________________________________

Of course, I didn’t know what I could possibly do wrong, everything seemed alright and okay when Vincent and I had an affair. Both of us didn’t give each other a second thought or a worry. But suddenly it broke down somewhere.

It was a springtime, when I was finishing my degree essay, getting it ready to be presented during final assessment and exams. Suddenly, he began to be colder and untalkative, I felt it not only during our lessons or tutorials, but also outside the university. He was responding only with one sentence or couple of words, we began to talk only about my essay. My first thought was that he was tired with all of his teaching, and began to blame myself for spending my time with him when he probably wanted to be alone. Clearly something wasn’t right. But when I asked him if something was wrong, Vincent dryly replied that it was all fine and he was just tired.

I left university for Easter holidays and for final weeks of studies and decided to work on my essay in England, at my father’s house: I made a decision to rethink our relationships with Renzi, but it was him who decided to abruptly cut them off.

My phone ranged.

“I’m calling to have a talk with you.”

My heart dropped.

“Don’t get me wrong, and, please, don’t blame yourself. It’s not you, Camille. It’s me. It was all my fault right from the beginning. You’re one of the most wonderful girls that I’ve met and I really like you…”, he made a pause, I heard his breath, “A lot. I honestly think about you all the time. But, I think that you’re too young for me”, he made a pause again, probably trying to find right words, and continued, “It’s all messed up and mixed teacher/student/lover relationships are surreal and feel not right. I think that both of us understand it, even if now we’re pretending that it’s all alright. I know that you understand me, Camille”

I don’t remember what did he say to me after these words. Probably, something like “I hope we’ll stay friends, I don’t want to sound like coward”. But I remembered how I silently closed the door to my room, closed all my studying books, get on the floor and cried uncontrollably for the rest of the evening.

[aisakalegacy]

Printemps 1919, Al Simhara, Égypte (1/3)

Chers cousins,

Quelques nouvelles d’Egypte, probablement les dernières que vous aurez de moi avant quelques temps j’en ai peur. Je vous envoie cette lettre grâce à ma contact, qui ne pourra pas reproduire l’opération cent fois, et qui a consenti à le faire pour me laisser donner des nouvelles à ma famille. J’envoie donc deux lettres : à vous, et à ma femme (et je ne sais pas si elle le mérite, puisqu’elle ne m’a rien écrit du tout !).

J’espère que Constantin n’envisageait pas de rejoindre un chantier prochainement, car cela s’annonce impossible ces prochaines années. C’est la guerre ! Oui, encore, alors que l’autre, la Grande, vient à peine de finir. Je reviens du Soudan où j’étais retourné quelques semaines - et au passage, Constantin, ma théorie était bonne : Reisner du chantier d’El-Kourrou y reconnaît bien le style éthiopien, mais lui pense non pas à une tombe excentrée mais plutôt à la preuve d’une activité artistique et artisanale intense qui s’est diffusée le long du fleuve et dont on retrouve trace jusqu’à Memphis, et qui pourrait donc venir d’un autre type de ruine.

Bref, je devais rencontrer le chef d’une équipe britannique installée à Al-Simhara ces derniers mois pour y poursuivre les fouilles que laissées par M. Naville. Sauf qu’en revenant, j’ai trouvé le camp totalement désert.

[Transcription] Jules LeBris : Excuse me, miss? Where is everyone? I can’t seem to find them. (Excusez-moi, mademoiselle ? Où sont passé les archéologues qui travaillaient ici ? Je ne peux en trouver aucun.) Nephty Hosni : Where have you been? Nationalist leader Saad Zaghlul has been arrested by the British and the entire country has been protesting. I was in a strike in front of Beit Ul-Umma this morning. We’ve been scattered and I had to flee. I don’t even know what has happened to my friends. (D’où est-ce que vous sortez ? Le chef nationaliste Saad Zaghlul a été arrêté par les Britanniques, et tout le pays manifeste. J’étais ce matin devant Beit Ul-Umma. Nous avons été éparpillées et j’ai dû fuir. Je ne sais même pas ce qui est advenu de mes amies.) Jules LeBris : I’m sorry, but I need to reach my friend myself, cheikh Fahad Madbouli. (J’en suis navré, mais j’ai moi-même besoin de contacter mon ami le cheikh Fahad Madbouli.) Nephty Hosni : The cheikh has been killed. I’m sorry. (Le cheikh est mort. Je suis désolée.) Jules LeBris : What? How? (Quoi ? Comment ?) Nephty Hosni : I told you. There are riots in town, and the British authorities don’t like it. (Je vous l’ai dit. Il y a des émeutes en ville, et les authorités britanniques n’aiment pas ça.) Nephty Hosni : You said you were a friend of the cheikh’s? (Vous avez dit que vous étiez un ami du cheikh ?) Jules LeBris : I am… was. Him and his wife hosted me for a little while back in 99. (Je le suis… l’étais. Lui et sa femme m’ont hébergé quelques temps en 99.) Nephty Hosni : Maybe my brother can help. He knows the archaeologists and he knew the cheikh. (Peut-être que mon frère pourra vous aider. Il connait les archéologues et il connaissait le cheikh.) Nephty Hosni : Hide, and meet me at nightfall near the old ruins. My house is nearby, so I can go home quick if patrols come. (Cachez-vous, et retrouvez-moi à la nuit tombée près des vieilles ruines. Ma maison est proche, ce qui veut dire que si les patrouilles passent, je pourrais rentrer rapidement chez moi.) Jules LeBris : Thank you, very much. (Merci, énormément.)

[viilpstick]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ANNELIESE🎉🎉🎉🎉

I low-key lost track of time and idk when her birthday is but happy birthday regardless go queen!!!!!

•••

Anneliese sniffled, trying to dry her tears even if they just kept falling. She had ran away from Pomefiore, ran away from the attention that she knew she’d get there. She was already ugly, crying would make everything worse, and she didn't want people looking at her like this.

Why did it have to be her birthday? If it was any other date she wouldn't have run away from the festivities at campus. She wouldn't have to hide from the people who were constantly trying to get a look at her horrific face.

She didn't understand why her mother decided to be especially cruel today. Telling her such harsh things, making her feel like she didn't matter… she didn't even remember it was her birthday.

“Get yourself together, Annie. You're even uglier when you cry…”

“I would very much disagree with that statement, mademoiselle.” Anneliese jumped, quickly running behind a tree in a worthless effort to hide herself. “Ah, I apologize, have I frightened you?” She peaked behind the trunk, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her.

Anneliese had never seen such a man before. His blond hair was a mess tied in a ponytail, a weak attempt at trying to force it to behave. He looked dirty, his cowboy hat seemed old and his school uniform looked very worn down.

The complete opposite of Pomefiore.

“W-who are you and what do you want?”

“I was merely passing by and heard your soft cries. I came close out of curiosity.” He explained, his smile wide. He seemed to shine like the sun, contrasting his appearance, his eyes looked at her with interest and delight, as if she was a rare animal to be studied.

She guessed she was just as ugly as one.

Anneliese frowned, turning away and resting her back behind the tree. She dried her tears and sniffled one last time.

“Then go. You already saw this hideous girl cry, you should be satisfied by now.”

“Hardly!” The boy said, walking closer to the tree and peaking behind it. Anneliese turned away, not wanting him to look at her face. “Ah, just as I thought.” Anneliese laughed sarcastically, feeling her eyes sting. Of course. She didn't need a random stranger to remind her just how ugly she was, she already– “you're truly beautiful.”

Anneliese flinched.

What?

She slowly turned towards him, her head tilting as her cheeks went pink. She frowned.

Did he– no. What? Was he insane?

“You're cruel for saying that.”

“How so? I’m simply stating the obvious, mademoiselle!” The blonde expressed, a radiant smile on his face. She couldn't hear a single ounce of lie in his words. It was as if he was being genuine. “I’ve never seen such deep purple eyes before, and with those tears they shine so wonderfully!”

“You… think I look beautiful like this?”

“Oui! A lover of beauty such as myself knows how to recognize the beauty in everything. Especially on a crying woman.” His eyes seemed to follow his lips as he grinned. “It is a sight to behold.”

The ginger girl held back a smile. She didn't fully believe in him, but regardless of if he was lying or not, his compliments certainly warmed her heart.

Maybe that's what she needed today. A simple compliment.

“I… don't quite believe you… but thank you.” She looked down at her feet. “I appreciate it.”

“I'm merely saying the truth! Oh, how rude of me–” he held out his hand. “what would your name be?”

“...I’m–”

“Anneliese!” A fellow dorm mate spoke, making both of them flinch from surprise. “Our housewarden is looking all over for you, hurry up!”

“Oh, uh– I'll come!” She said, then, she quickly glanced at the boy near her. “Thank you again. I'll see you around, uh…”

“Rook Hunt at your service, mademoiselle.” He grabbed her hand, gently kissing her knuckles and making her blush. “I look forward of seeing more of your beauty around.”

She giggled, a horrible sound coming out of her mouth. She covered her lips as her cheeks reddened and Rook widened his eyes at it, but instead of being displeased by it he smiled, a gentle laugh leaving his lips.

“Anneliese!”

“Coming!!” With that, the ginger slightly bowed and ran off with her dorm mate back to Pomefiore.

Now, back to the present, Anneliese was brought back from her thoughts as Rook, the now 3rd year, the face she’d never say would belong to Pomefiore, lit up the candle on her cake.

“What is it that you wish, mademoiselle beau?”

Anneliese smiled, blowing out the candle.

“It's a secret.”

i am not crying you are

you all are

omg

i am

I SWEAR TO GOD

THIS IS SO CUTE AND

AND SILLY

AND THE WAY HE COMFORTS HER <333

ROOKLIESE

ROOKLIESE MY BELOVED <33333333

breaking news: his future wife used to thinks he stinked, understand the case

i want to hug her so bad :((( baby you are gorgeous (i was the one who gave her trauma)

ALSO,,,,,

I NEED TO WRITE THAT 5+1 SCENARIO OF THEM KISSING

THIS IS AN ABSURD LIKE

I NEED THEM TO KISS INSTANTLY

[aroacesigma]

okay massive loredump incoming so im terribly sorry if none of this makes sense lol

to understand valkyrie's dynamic in the most basic way possible, shu is an incredibly talented artist who might seem extremely standoffish and cold while also being very short tempered (especially during the earlier stories) but he is very tender to those who cares about. throughout his entire arc though he learns how to express those feelings better so its really sweet to see ^-^ he really loves antique dolls and admires any type of art form really. and hes a very big croissant enjoyer. currently in the story hes studying in france. and i dont care if its only like a silly gag in the game but you have to take shu having DID out of my cold dead hands. he sometimes speaks through the doll his grandfather gave him, mademoiselle.

and mika is, for a lack of a better word his biggest fan(tm). type of guy that would defend anything shu does on twitter lmao. but before getting into their relationship!! i need to gush about my silly first. mika is an orphan who ends up at yumenosaki because he remembers meeting shu when they were both kids and seeing shu perform once. and was like. "hey. i want to be next to him" and somehow??? got in???? but anyway. hes a very sweet guy but might sometimes come off as a bit of an airhead. doesnt help w the fact that he keeps saying hes dumb while that not being the case at all. he really likes plushies :3 he frequently picks up abandoned plushies and clothes from the trash to fix them up and everything. he also has a bit of a sweet tooth lol. but he prefers cheaper candy or sweets that are a little flawed like a cake thats slightly burnt and whatnot because he says that the nice ones make him sick.

oh wow this is already so long im SORRY but getting into them together, their entire arc is them growing and learning and trying to become the best versions of themselves as partners.

during ! era, the earlier batch of stories, when mika first joins valkyrie his relationship with shu is really not healthy at all. people still call them a proship sometimes because they will just ignore any development they had 💀 this was the time that mika was incredibly devoted to shu and very dependent on him. that his only purpose was to be shu's doll for him to control and lead him because he couldnt be trusted with himself or whatever. this being paired with shu's perfectionism resulted in this dynamic of a puppeteer and his puppet, basically. i will probably get to the war in another ask if you want me to bc. i feel like im rambling on too much nfmfnf <.< but after the events of the war their dynamic starts changing with time, in the later ! stories a few of them shows this switch to emphasizing mika needing to become his own person, and to live as a human instead of mindlessly following what shu says him to do. when we get to the !! era how much they've both grown is way more visible, by now shu has moved to france but visits japan frequently for valkyrie's activities or other things. shu cannot shut up about being partners in art with mika and is really proud of how far he has come. mika on the other hand, he really starts pushing for his own artistic taste more and also!! he calls shu out on his bullshit sometimes its really fun to read.

and if you want more tragic yaoi, id recommend listening to acanthe first and the lyrics then going onto le temps des fleurs, both have insane stories in the game accompanying the songs but i will . stop myself for now. all i will say is that the outfits in le temps des fleurs, half of it is supposed to be the groom while the other is the bride, so yeah theyre married to me now.

ohhhh theyre so silly. honestly love that character development for them <3 so glad gay marriage is real in enstars