#royal street orchestra

[stuckinapril]

is iraq even real

You have never touched down on a hot but windy summer night in Baghdad & you have never taken to the many malls strewn through the capital & you have never visited the neighborhood your mother grew up in & you never cried imagining her walking crowded streets downtown & you have never been taken to Iraqi orchestra where your aunt’s husband performed & you have never aimlessly wandered the University of Baghdad where your mother attended & you have never snuck into the university library even though you needed a student ID & you have never visited the many decadently themed restaurants in Baghdad & you have never watched mauve and tangerine bathe the city in a glorious flare & you have never sat on the edge of the Tigris River a safe distance from drunken boys while the city lights trembled off the water & you have never hit up every antique store there is to take as many souvenirs as possible & you have never visited the Royal Cemetery with its intricate craftsmanship & you have never

[ultra-violet-heart]

Fanfare for Frieren (a fan translation)

This is the English fan translation of Fanfare for Frieren (奏送), the accompanying short novella for the opening theme of the Frieren anime, Yuusha by Yoasobi, written by Jirou Kiso with the supervision of manga writer Kanehito Yamada. The images here are from its print/digital version, which has been a bonus from the special edition of Frieren: Beyond Journey's End Volume 12.

Disclaimer: This translation is made by me for fandom purposes only. This unofficial translation is not affiliated with the official Frieren franchise or with Yoasobi. All rights reserved for Frieren: Beyond Journey's End to its respective committees, committee members, staff and rights holders.

Please ask my permission and credit me+this post if you will be re-translating this to other languages. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST THIS OR ITS IMAGES TO OTHER SITES. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE ESPECIALLY ON YOUTUBE AND TIKTOK. Please take the fan translations here with a grain of salt. 

I'm posting my Ko-Fi here as currently, I've been having financial trouble regarding my medicine, so if anyone can donate, I would be much grateful for the help, thank you very much.

1.

Five years after the death of Himmel the Hero.

Central Lands, the Capelle [1] Region.

A small city, commonly referred to as “Music City”, was located not far off west of the Royal Capital.

Many renowned musicians, who had established the foundation of court music, went there to study, and they each created orchestras there which continue up to this day. Day and night, orchestral and operatic performances kept theatres crowded, and these performances were well-known in the Central Lands.

The hymns that could be heard from the church also evoked such amicable ties between culture and religion. The singing voices and the performance, both tranquil and powerful, were pleasing to the ears.

There’s unexpected magic in places like this, huh, Frieren thought while walking through the streets with light steps.

She couldn’t visit this place during her journey to defeat the Demon King, but she thought it would have been nice to have taken a detour on the beginning. The journey started from the Royal Capital to the east, she recalled with a little regret.

To that extent, the city was much of a beautiful and isolated place.

The cobblestone pavements reminded one of a flowing music score, while the radial houses reminded one of a well-organized orchestra. The entire city had this atmosphere of welcoming people, so that there was music there for people to listen to.

There might be a wealth of music-related magic in this place. She wasn’t particularly knowledgeable when it comes to music, but folk magic rooted in a distinctive culture was worth collecting for that reason alone.

Following the signboards that were shaped like sheet music and musical instruments, Frieren continued walking.

Just near were an opera house and a museum adjacent to it, and the sound of some rhythm coming from somewhere.

Various sounds overlapped the whole city, however, strangely enough, there was no cacophony at all.

Suddenly, among those sounds, one of the most awkward sounds caught her ear. The timbre sounded like it was carefully walking on ice.

Apparently, a small marching band was passing by in front of the church located in the city’s center. The boys and the girls were preparing for their practice that day, carrying brass instruments too big for their stature and with more percussion instruments than their hands could handle.

A boy wearing a red feathered military hat―or rather, was made to wear one―had this desperate expression as he continued blowing his horn, unconcerned about his reddening face.

Even though from a very young age, all this city’s people had been living together with music.

The sound the boy made while carefully holding the horn, which was said to be the most difficult instrument in the world for humans to play, was not the clearest at all.

However, sometime in the future, that sound will reverberate gallantly and kindly.

Frieren felt it was a timbre suitable for the city.

Frieren continued to walk, as if the small orchestra was pushing her back.

The rustling of leaves, the gurgling water of the fountain, the happy hubbub from the cafeteria. All the sounds of nature and the noise of daily lives here and there gave the impression they were all pleasantly tuned.

It might be said she could stay in here for years while exploring the city thoroughly.

In one corner of the city, there stood an old-looking music store. Its appearance, reflecting its long age, made it stand out.

For some reason, she entered the store. It was a place she wouldn’t normally stop by, but her feet were strangely drawn into it.

Beyond the store’s creaking door, however, a strikingly different but still atmosphere hung about.

Beautifully polished wind instruments. Stringed instruments without a speck of dust. They were placed on a cramped space, lined like capillary vessels. The store’s appearance made it feel like one could hear the breathing of the old craftsman running the store alone.

As she searched for a narrow foothold and was about to head deeper,

“You.” A voice said. Frieren felt it was a matured voice that carefully aged over many years.

An old man, whose white hair was tied up clumsily, peeked out from the back of the store. His sleeves were still rolled up, as if he was still tending to his instruments a short while ago. She caught a glimpse of the old man’s muscles, which were well-toned for his age.

“You… seemed to have lived a life unconnected to musical instruments.”

Adjusting the monocle on his eye, the old man fixed his gaze on Frieren.

“How can you tell?”

“Because you are a face I have not seen before. Those who love music and those who are loved by music will have visited this place sooner or later.”

The old man asserted his words with such sincere belief.

“Those who love music will immediately be obsessed with the instruments here. Those who are loved by music are people my eyes immediately recognize. So, yes, I can tell. Will you let me see your face?”

And then he beckoned her to come closer.

“My, my, I am surprised. It seems like you are the latter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your ears, the corner of your eyes, your features. You appear to be an elf.”

“I am an elf, but…”

Frieren didn’t immediately catch the drift of the conversation.

“I have something I want people like you to have.”

After saying, “Wait for me,” the old man turned on his heel and took out a small wooden box from the back of the store and opened it. Inside was a palm-sized ocarina-like musical instrument.

The instrument’s intricate design was obvious even to the untrained eye.

“This is the Möglich. [2]”

“Möglich?”

“Its other name is ‘the Impossible’ [2]. It’s an instrument said to take a hundred years to master.”

“I once heard the horn is said to be the most difficult instrument in the world for humans to play.”

Frieren replied, recalling the boy from the marching band earlier. She remembered him struggling to play.

“That is a topic for ordinary humans. This instrument, however, was originally made by elves. You seem to be unaware of this.”

“That’s right. I didn’t know. Though it’s not strange if some elf did invent something like that.”

Frieren knew some of her own kind who spent so many years just killing time. [3]

“My great-grandfather inherited the Möglich, and he analyzed its structure. Apparently, it is impossible to produce a sound with this instrument unless they continue infusing in a small amount of mana while maintaining a perfect equilibrium. It would take more than ten years to produce a proper sound on this instrument. Fifty years is not even enough for an experienced mage to play one tune with it.”

“Really?” Frieren replied vaguely, not making it clear whether she was interested or not.

“I heard after one hundred years of diligently studying it, the sound one can play from this instrument is unparalleled.”

In fact, the old shopkeeper spent his life trying to master it. However, it was impossible for him to master the instrument as he did not possess any magical power. He could not even make it produce a sound.

“There is yet no one who has mastered it, much less know how to play it, so this instrument is still for sale, waiting for a buyer.”

The instrument had this eye-popping price tag. It was an amount that could already buy a house, and there was no way Frieren could afford it, not with the travelling-expenses-money she had on hand.

Of course, Frieren had no intention to buy it.

Certainly, it was rather interesting a fellow elf spent part of their long life in the form of developing this musical instrument. What kind of elf are they? Why did they give it to humans?

Most likely, she felt that this might be no more than a prank. It was an instrument that made sounds that could not be produced within the very short, fleeting lives of humans, after all.

“I am here because I want to hear the Möglich’s melodies one day. I have long sought for that timbre no words can describe. For so many years, this whole time. I eagerly awaited any who loved music or is loved by music to come here and finally fulfill my wish. It might be an impossible dream now, but I feel the guidance of the Goddess is at work that I am able to meet you, an elf.”

“I’m sorry, but…”

“I have no need for your money.”

“I can’t pay, then.”

“I want an elf like you to have it.” The old shopkeeper said with a strong tone.

His eyes held no arrogance on them, as if he was pushing his impossible dream onto someone else, but instead were filled with unadulterated hope.

“………”

After some hesitation, Frieren replied.

“If there’s no other buyers, I’ll think about it. This should be bought by someone who should own it though.”

“I see… Come back. I am sure you will.”

“I’ll be back. I plan on staying here for a while.”

The old man, as if to remind himself, called out to Frieren as she was about to leave.

“What is your name?”

“Frieren.”

“What a fine name. A name loved by music.”

2.

The dusk was casting its shadow over the city by the time she left the music store.

Frieren felt how the city’s tune changed between day and night.

Unlike the bustling daytime and the soundless midnight, the comforting evening was like a soft breeze caressing her cheeks.

Let’s have dinner, Frieren thought.

During the time she traveled with Himmel and their party, Himmel always decided where they would eat. He had this exceptional ability to find out any restaurant that had what Frieren and the others wanted without them telling him what they were in the mood to eat.

How did you know? She once asked him at the dinner table.

“You all have this way of showing what you’re thinking on your faces.”

Himmel smiled as he said this.

“Heiter’s face now has the color of a ditch.”

Eisen took a glance at the drunkard next to him.

“What?!”

Heiter looked back at Frieren, his face looking like an undead. He was so dead drunk he couldn’t tell the difference between Eisen and Frieren.

“You reek of booze.”

Frieren kicked him while Himmel laughed.

“Frieren, you see, I enjoy nothing more than having a meal with the four of us like this. I choose the food every one of us like as I want to make sure we all have a good time.”

She recalled wondering even then if it was the answer to her question.

She then looked at the restaurant now in front of her and thought it had the same appearance and atmosphere as the one from that time.

This restaurant, called Parlante [3], was such a calm place it was like it was not her first time entering it.

“What did Himmel like?”

Thinking back, Himmel always ordered his food last. It was often a different dish from theirs, or he would choose a dish that was easy to share between the four of them.

After that, he would portion out his food little by little, share that, and say, “Isn’t it more fun to have a variety of dishes at once?”

They had eaten around the table in as many places as she could remember. They partook of seafood when they were in coastal towns, they ate wild greens and hunted game in campgrounds, and they particularly were fond of each region’s local specialties.

“The food that can only be eaten in the place you’re in becomes a shared memory with the people you went in with. Even if you forget, you’ll remember again when you go there and eat the local food. That’s how I want to travel.”

Frieren remembered them talking about this one day, so she then called the waiter.

“Is there any dish you can only eat at this restaurant?”

Would Himmel be surprised to find out she had started thinking like that? Or would he laugh and say, “It’s written on your face,” as if he had already predicted this would happen?

The waiter flipped carefully through the menu pages.

“Our specialty is the l'oeuf omelette [4], made of ten chicken eggs. This dish has four servings, so shall I bring you a quarter of that?”

“No, I’ll order it as it is. If I can’t finish it all, I’ll have the rest on take-out.”

This dish, which was loved by well-known musicians, was bigger than expected and took up a large space on the table.

The evening for one person went on, her recalling that lively dinner table she once shared with others.

3.

It has been a month since she stayed, but she had been so distracted by the magic tool shops and the cityscapes, she wasn’t able to fully explore the small city.

Every time she passed the music store, however, the old shopkeeper would enthusiastically call Frieren’s name.

It had become routine for both of them to exchange small greetings.

It wasn’t particularly a trouble to Frieren, but somehow, she felt like going somewhere a bit different for today.

Not far off the city center, there was a street lined with monuments of musicians. Some were well-known, but others were unknown to Frieren.

At the end of the line, however, she found a rather out-of-place statue.

It was a bust of Himmel holding a violin. It was probably commissioned by the time he was travelling alone in neighboring countries after the Demon King’s defeat.

“He was here, too…” Frieren muttered unconsciously.

His eyes were closed, but his facial expression on the chin rest conveyed such a strong will. This must be the work of a skilled craftsman. One could tell a lot of time was spent making the statue. The finish it had was unique even among the more than one hundred types of heroes’ statues.

“So, he could play such a musical instrument.”

She muttered those words to herself, not wanting anyone else to hear, but from behind her came an unexpected response.

“It’s just as Master Himmel said.”

When Frieren turned around, she saw the speaker was an old woman. There was quite a gap between the woman’s voice, which was quite youthful, and the woman’s elderly appearance. The woman continued with a well-projected voice.

“Might you be Lady Frieren?”

“……?”

For a few moments, Frieren couldn’t understand the words directed at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Master Himmel said that when he came here before.”

The old woman, using skillful vocal acrobatics, reenacted her and Himmel’s state during that time.

“One day in the future, a mage named Frieren will visit this city. I want to make a statue that will serve as a landmark for her.”

“A landmark? Won’t everyone just stop in front of Master Himmel instead?”

“I’m sure they will. But I’m also sure they’ll recognize her immediately as she gazes at me.”

“Is that how it is?”

“Yes, it is.”

The old woman cleared her throat once, ending her little performance. Frieren felt it was strange, given the woman was surprisingly good at imitating voices. She was then told the woman was a former star performer at a circus troupe. It was no wonder that the woman’s voice carried through strongly.

“My apologies for the late introduction. My name is Flöte [5]. I got too excited at meeting you, Lady Frieren. This is embarrassing…”

Her cheeks blushed, a complete change from moments earlier when she was still acting with different voice tones.

“I witnessed a good performance.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Flöte smiled like a blooming flower.

“It seems like the statue was worth making.”

“Master Himmel lamented the statue wasn’t enough to convey his charm to the public.”

“Himmel would probably say that.”

Frieren then wiped the rust off the bronze statue’s flowy hair with a rag she carried.

“If only there was a ‘spell that removes rust from bronze statues’, this clean-up would be easier.”

“Let me help you.”

“It’s all right. I can do it on my own. So, why did Himmel say that?”

As all the rust was wiped off and the statue’s smile returned, the old woman answered Frieren with a mysterious look on her face.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Lady Frieren.”

She said it so apologetically that Frieren got an anxious expression.

“…What’s the reward?”

“A grimoire with the ‘spell to record sounds in a book’.”

At that point, Frieren broke into a smile.

“All right, I’m in.”

4.

“So, you want to dispel a spell that will not dispel until the caster dies?”

Frieren asked again, repeating the old woman’s words.

“That’s rather difficult. Nearly impossible, even.”

 “’I’m sure Frieren will do it’, that’s what Master Himmel told me before.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I’m also embarrassed to say… I am the caster in question.”

“I’m not getting the situation. What do you mean?”

“I ought to speak in order, then.”

 As the old woman said this, she began narrating her personal history.

Flöte was not born in the Capelle region, but in a family of mages, and her parents moved to the area as they hated the horrors of war, and there they established a magical circus troupe. She didn’t originally want to join the troupe, but due to the education she received, she was able to use various magic spells back then.

One of those spells was the ‘spell to erase one memory until death’. It would be a terrible spell if abused by others, but the spell was restricted so that it can only be cast on oneself.

There were many rumors about its effectiveness, which were never true. Some people said it reminded them of the moment of death where one’s whole life flashed before one’s eyes, while others said it meant like being buried in eternal darkness.

In any case, it was a mysterious kind of magic.

One day, when she was 15 years old, having mastered the spell at such a young age, she then cast it upon herself.

Since then, Flöte had lost that one memory, even until now.

“In short, I want to dispel that oblivion spell I casted upon myself.”

“What memory did you erase?”

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. I did erase it, after all.”

With downcast eyes, she connected her words.

“However, I began to wonder if I did lose something important on a whim, especially as I grew older and get closer to death. If, due to the heat of the moment, I buried that memory I shouldn’t have lost with the magic spell I learned, at least, I want to remember what it is before I die. I’m sorry, you might think of this as a selfish request.”

The old woman finally spoke in a voice appropriate for her age.

“When Master Himmel was in the city, I got an opportunity to tell him about it. He then told me about you, Lady Frieren. That Lady Frieren is sure to do something about it.”

Observing Frieren carefully, the old woman then appealed to her.

“Please, will you grant my request? I want to spend the little time I have left, which will pass in the blink of an eye, without any regrets.”

The old woman spoke eloquently, but Frieren didn’t reply, seemingly getting lost in her thoughts.

She walked through the city after, letting time pass, and when night came, she booked a room in a tavern.

Late at night, when the tavern earlier filled with cheerful music finally went quiet, the events of the day came to Frieren’s thoughts as she leafed through the pages of her grimoire.

5.

“This journey must have been a blink of an eye for you,” Himmel said.

The comment came as perfectly natural as picking vegetables in the market.

“I’ve almost died so many times, but now that I’ve made it here, everything feels so nostalgic.”

After the Demon King’s defeat, Himmel continued on as he rode the shaky carriage back to the Royal Capital.

“Frieren. I know you don’t think of this as nostalgic yet, but the day will come when you remember this journey, us, and this moment. I don’t know when that will be. Maybe after I die. Even so, I’m sure you’ll be able to laugh and say, ‘That was a silly journey, wasn’t it?’”

“It’s too early for the serious talk! We haven’t truly defeated the Demon King until we return home!”

Heiter continued to tease them while smiling.

“Well, we still have requests to fulfill.”

On his return to the Royal Capital, Himmel received many requests. He took on small tasks to help people, fixing roads, even searching for lost things.

Their current request back then was from the village undertaker, who asked them to eliminate a monster that only reacted to human corpses.

When asked for more details, the undertaker said there was a dragon blocking the only bridge that connected the village and the town. Since the dragon damaging the area only occurred when corpses were carried away, it was concluded that the dragon had the tendency to target only corpses.

It didn’t respond to scarecrows, and pretending to be dead didn’t work on it either. Since it only paid attention to real human corpses, Frieren guessed it might have eyes that could detect whether a person is alive or dead.

“I’ll act as bait.”

Himmel spoke resolutely, as he always did.

“You just defeated the Demon King, and you want to die here?” Eisen said. “Stop being reckless!”

“Even Eisen, who doesn’t die even if he was eaten by monsters, is useless this time, huh.”

“Heiter, shut up.”

Frieren looked at the two badmouthing each other and then asked.

“Can’t we just borrow a corpse?”

“We can’t do that, Frieren.”

Himmel continued, as if to admonish her.

“A dead person is the image of a life lived fully. We can’t recklessly put that in danger. Besides, even if I’ll be acting as bait, I won’t truly die. Frieren, you can put me in a state of suspended animation, yes?”

“A state of suspended animation?”

She once casted the ‘spell to encase a living creature on ice’ on a ferocious enormous fish. Himmel must have that time in mind when he said this.

“Are you sure? If I make a slight mistake, you’ll truly die.”

“You can do it, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Frieren shrugged her shoulders and…

“Just do it this time. You’re capable of it, after all.”

“Go for it!”

Heiter and Eisen happily cheered.

“I don’t know what will happen.”

Himmel stood on top of the bridge as Frieren took out her staff.

“Frieren. Fire at me.”

A flash of mana concentrated on the staff’s tip then enveloped Himmel. The air around froze, and Himmel quietly collapsed.

Soon after, a very large shadow appeared on the bridge. A dragon came on sight. As it circled the sky above, it went straight at Himmel, as if it had set its sights on him. Its piercing eyes and the sharp claws it brought out now loomed nearer.

Facing that, a large swing of the warrior Eisen’s axe violently exploded.

A heavy, dull sound echoed throughout the area.

White smoke and cold air blended, then wafted away as if they were thawing. One could see that Eisen was the last one standing.

Frieren then promptly used the ‘spell to warm up the skin’ on Himmel’s cold body.

Regaining his breath, Himmel smiled at Frieren with a reddened face.

“See? I told you; you can do it.”

6.

Frieren snapped her grimoire shut.

“The ‘spell to erase one memory until death’, huh.”

The next day, as the morning sun rose, the city became slowly filled with sound.

Frieren woke up on the hard floor far from her bed, and with bed hair she went to Flöte’s house.

It was to put a theory into practice. This was a drastic measure, but in Frieren’s opinion this measure would work.

“Lady Frieren, good morning. Did you find out anything?”

The old woman’s voice seemed refreshed.

“You’ll have to die.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why I’ll put you into the state of suspended animation.”

“……”

There was a moment of confusion from the old woman, then silence. However, after a while, she looked like she had made up her mind.

“Please. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

As soon as she heard those words, Frieren gently raised her staff.

“Lie on the bed. I’m starting.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes, indeed, but are you all right with this…?”

“I’ve done it once before. I can do it.”

“If Lady Frieren says so, then it will be all right. Please do so.”

The spell Frieren casted on the old woman enveloped the latter’s body, and for a moment her body stiffened.

Soon after, however, the old woman’s body regained movement, just like how coloring paint flowed when dissolved in water. She then wore this childlike expression, showing a trace of the young girl she once was.

“How are you?” Frieren asked shortly after. “You technically have died once, so your memory should be back.”

“Hahaha… I was worried like a child…”

The old woman seemed to have recovered her lost memory.

As an adolescent, she didn’t want to join the magical circus troupe. Instead, she yearned for a particular musical instrument.

“The Möglich, the instrument said to take a hundred years to master…”

She strongly yearned for it, but it was too expensive, and she could not spend a hundred years on it, so as a child, she thought she could just forget it existed.

So, she sealed that memory instead. She put the lid on that unattainable wish and began to live on reality.

“I’m glad I remembered… I’ll put my life on the line even if it takes years before I reached my dream, and I’ll start learning from now on.”

“I see. Then, you should have that instrument.”

As the Möglich was an instrument which used magical power to produce sound, without doubt, it would be a good match for Flöte, who was a mage.

“I’ll tell the music store shopkeeper. That there is this customer who has wanted it for a long time.”

“Oh, no. Are you truly sure?”

“I want someone who loves music more than me to have it, you see.”

“Thank you very much. Lady Frieren, I cannot thank you enough.”

“I get rewarded anyways, so…”

“Yes, you’re right.” The old woman took out a grimoire from her bookshelf. “This is the grimoire with the ‘spell to record sounds in a book’. I’m ashamed to say I have already recorded various sounds in this book…”

Flöte’s eyes went downcast as she said this, just like when she and Frieren first met.

“It sounds like a strange hobby, isn’t it? As it was routine for me to travel to various places as part of the magical circus troupe, I had a lot of once-in-a-lifetime chance encounters, and I wanted to preserve them in some form. The local people and the sounds from nature became my source of support. Among these are the recordings of my meetings with Master Himmel.”

“This isn’t a strange hobby. Himmel would have said the same.”

Frieren said she would return the grimoire when she finished reading it, then left the room.

On the same day, Frieren went to Restaurant Parlante, which was now a completely familiar place for her, and ordered an omelette. When she went to bed with a full stomach, she then opened the grimoire the old woman gave her.

Just as Flöte said, the grimoire had sounds from various ages, places, genders of people… some of them were sounds from nature, some being the noise of daily lives.

“You… you look familiar.”

Was this how the old music store shopkeeper sounded like when he was younger?

“I’ll have the ten-egg l'oeuf omelette, please!”

The voice of a very well-known musician continued.

“This time, I’m thinking of starting a marching band in this city.”

“One day in the future, a mage named Frieren will visit this city. I want to make a statue that will serve as a landmark for her.”

She heard Himmel’s voice as she turned a page. His voice was a bit different from the last time she met him, but it was still Himmel’s voice from her memories. It felt nostalgic, too.

And she realized that Flöte’s voice imitation before was a bit exaggerated.

“Please pose quickly! You’re just holding a violin…!”

This was probably the heartbroken cry of the craftsman who made that Himmel bust.

It seemed like Flöte, as a young girl, followed her interests and recorded these sounds from the various places she went, and the chance encounters she cherished. Frieren could just imagine how she looked like during then.

“………”

It might not be a bad idea to retrace that journey with everyone, she thought, looking at the east towards the Royal Capital.

In the end, Frieren decided to leave after staying in the city for around three months.

When she said goodbye to the music store shopkeeper, he excitedly said, “Flöte loves music and is loved by music.” He said the old woman mastered producing sounds on the Möglich at an extraordinarily fast pace, something that would have normally taken ten years.

After all, it was appropriate for those who should own it to have it.

As she was preparing herself to leave with these thoughts in mind, a marching band passed by in front of the tavern.

The boy playing the horn had grown taller in a short time, and his hat now fitted him better. His fingers holding the horn now had calluses on them, and his blowing on it sounded less labored than before.

The sound was brave and gentle, but eventually became grainy.

A celebratory fanfare sounding like a parade salute echoed on Frieren’s back as she left the city.

(END)

Translator’s Notes:

[1] Written as カペッレ in katakana. I decided to translate it as “Capelle”, as the word means “the private orchestra or band of a prince or church”, which is a reference to the marching band in this short novel.

[2] Written as メークリヒ in katakana. In German, “möglich” means “possible”.

[3] Written as パルランテ in katakana. “Parlante” means “a piece of music to be sung or played in the style of a recitative”.

[4] In French, "l'oeuf" means "egg". In short, this word is just a fancy term for "egg omelettes".

[5] Written as フレーテ in katakana. In German, “Flöte” means “flute” or “whistle”.

[6] Frieren was most likely thinking of Milliarde, an elf friend of hers who first appeared in Chapter 69.

[cowgurrrl]

It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester. 

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her. 

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text. 

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work. 

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background. 

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare." 

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?" 

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk. 

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years." 

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable." 

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school." 

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed. 

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine. 

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz. 

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?" 

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says. 

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask. 

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least. 

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me." 

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing." 

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need. 

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head. 

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums. 

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little. 

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic. 

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look. 

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off. 

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say. 

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease. 

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night." 

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again. 

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information. 

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back. 

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window. 

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

[theroyalsims]

BREAKING: MORE ROYAL WEDDING DETAILS REVEALED!

We're just weeks away before Anya and Gus finally become man and wife, and today, we're treated to more royal wedding news!

The Palace issued an announcement this morning, revealing more details of the most-anticipated wedding of the year, including who will be the Maid of Honour and Best Man!

The statement, in part, reads:

"Her Royal Highness The Crown Princess and Mr. Aslan are delighted to share more details of their upcoming wedding, to be held in the coming weeks at Brindleton Abbey. "

"Her Royal Highness has asked her younger sister, Princess Ingrid, to be her Maid of Honour. Mr. Aslan, meanwhile, will be accompanied by his brother-in-law, Mr. Hercule Laurenti, as his Best Man."

(Above: candid shots of Anya during their quick trip to Tartosa over the weekend. The couple, dressed in casual summer clothes, were spotted shopping, sightseeing - and even buying a bouquet of red blossoms from a street vendor - during their very short Summer break.)

Princess Ingrid isn't the only royal sibling to get a special part! Prince Alistair also has a special role in the ceremony, as well as Gus' sister.

The couple has also tapped their nieces and nephews for the roles of bridesmaids and page boys. The list is reproduced below:

Bridesmaids:

Miss Sibel Alessia Laurenti (Gus' niece)

Miss Nicole Bluebell Holm (Daughter of Leon and Lady Chloe)

Lady Emma Caroline Gretchen Darcy-Weston (Daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Fjord; Anya's goddaughter)

Page Boys:

Master Adrian Khari Chegeya (Son of Olivia and Khari Chegeya)

Master Linus Waldorf Holm (Son of Luke and Penny. Anya's godson)

Master Amaro Esposito (Son of Gus' former business partner.)

Reading

His Royal Highness Prince Alistair

Miss Gül Lucinda Aslan (Gus' sister)

Music will be provided by the Royal Brindleton Orchestra and the Brindleton Abbey Choir. The wedding will be officiated by His Excellency, The Archbishop of Brindleton.

The couple also revealed that in lieu of gifts, donations to twenty of their selected charities will be much welcomed. Included in the list of said charities are the Brindleton Animal Rescue Foundation, Shelters for All - Brindleton, and The Brindleton Volunteer Firefighters Association.

The royal wedding is ALMOST here, and we're super excited! And it's lovely to see that both Gus and Anya's families will be a huge part of their special day!

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Comfort fic i wrote awhile ago (and need it rn ;w;) inspired by a convo w a friend in the server awhile back

Rated T | Warning: reader is a perfectionist and depression, anxiety, lack of sleep

“You need to sleep,” The maestro standing above you as he has literally dragged you from the study where you were starting to make small mistakes in your practice, he gave you a cut-off time and left to go get the wine he ordered for tomorrow after your performance but when he returned he found barely able to stand up straight and you making novice level mistakes.

“I need to get the last part right, something is missing!” You have been close to him like this before, both intimately, and just because you are rooming together so you are not blushing and shy, you are annoyed he stopped you! He leans over enough to hold himself up with one arm against the wall and his legs between yours giving you no room to escape him. “Please, maestro, I’m going to fail you.”

You must be delirious from lack of sleep these days, so focus on perfection and admit to not wanting to disappoint him. He is not your father, nor that joke of an instructor. No, he is your friend and maestro, currently, he is putting his weight on top of holding you close.

“Antonio!” Struggling, more like a baby fighting to sleep, before you give up and lay there, “Antonio.” His warmth and weight are soothing even though you want to go back to trying to fix your mistakes… You are so tired.

He hums a tune, one of the songs you first heard him play when he was drunk playing on the streets.

Paganini turns his body with you to have you both on your side, his nimble fingers rubbing your neck and back to ease the tension until you are completely relaxed.

The performance is beautiful, as to be expected as one trained by Antiono Paganini says your mother.

You say nothing, you only smile and give small replies to small conversations. The after party is making you nauseous and Antiono is talking to your mother.

You hide outside the rented space in the gardens, you need to breathe and your hand touches the cold water in the water fountain in the middle of the garden.

The music is distant, a buzz that lingers but far enough to settle yourself. 

You sit on the edge of the fountain looking at the ground, touching your wetting hand, then shoes come to your view.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Antonio is there with a small plate with a slice of German chocolate cake he snuck out here for you.

“I messed up the ending of the solo.”

“You did fine, (Name).

You take the small dish but do not eat right away, “Only fine.” 

“Experience will teach you more as you perform.” The violinist moves and sits beside you, “You have been hard on yourself as of late.”

“You aren't hard enough on me, maestro!” Upset, “That was embarrassing! I embarrassed you…” Yelling at him as you drop the plate as you turn your body toward him and grab him by his shoulders. “I have to be perfect. Like you. Like father—” Head down as you start tearing up, “I'm sorry, Antonio.” Pulling your hands away regretting the outburst.

The Violinist pulls you into his arms, squeezing you in his embrace, you make a sound of surprise before breaking down.

The party goes on, it was never really for you but for your mother to claim she supports you unlike your father. A way to gain favor with a rising star.

The royal orchestra sent you a letter inviting you to join them… You are nervous, Antonio seemed uneasy as he had been the one to read you the letter.

“You are a great violinist, (Name). A great musician in fact.” As you play other instruments in an attempt to be an all-rounder in the field of music. “I can tell you this but you have to believe in yourself as well.”

You nod in his chest, “Antonio,” Taking a deep breath, “Can we go home?”

“Of course, alunno.” The violinist lets go of you as you gather yourself and take a deep breath and fan your heated face.

“Thank you, maestro. For everything.”

[the-paintrist]

Henriette Lorimier - Portrait of Nicolas Lupot - 1805

Nicolas Lupot (4 December 1758 – 14 August 1824) was one of the most illustrious French luthiers (violin makers) of his time.

Lupot was born in Stuttgart. He was apprenticed to his father and worked in Orléans until 1794. Soon after, he moved to Paris, where he was appointed violin maker to the king (1815), and to the Conservatoire of Paris (1816). This latter post involved furnishing instruments (of the whole violin family) awarded to first-prize winners.

Lupot was ordered by King Louis XVIII to make an orchestra of stringed instruments which were to be decorated/embellished with the coat of arms of France. He ambitiously undertook in 1820 to replace all the instruments of the royal orchestra with new ones of his own make, but death in 1824 prevented him from fulfilling this plan.

He frequently received the title of "The French Stradivarius" and in Mirecourt there is a street named after him. Modeling (except a few after Guarnerius and Amati) always after that of Stradivarius and he imitated that genius more minutely than anybody else had or has ever done. This is why there is such a refreshing variety in his productions some of broad proportions, others more normal and some under the recognized full sizes as well as a few of long pattern.

"Lupot was an important French maker, modeling his instruments after Stradivari."

Elisabeth Henriette Marthe Lorimier (7 August 1775, Paris – 1 April 1854) was a popular portraitist in Paris at the beginning of Romanticism. She lived with the French diplomat and philhellene writer Francois Pouqueville (1770–1838).

[mister-fisch]

Things that have been stuck in my head for the past week Jun 13 -Jun 20 (I probably forgot some lol)

Jun 13

•Um,it's kind of alot-Will Wood

•Against the kitchen floor -Will Wood

•White Noise-Will Wood

•Beatpop Girl-a-thon-Talkshow boy

•The monolog from White Noise-Live at The Vermont Hollywood,Los Angeles,CA

•The Healthy song-DHMIS

•The Vending machine song-DHMIS

•Cicada days-Will Wood

•Blood and bones-Blake Robsinson synthetic orchestra

Jun 14

•Cabinet Man-Lemon Demon

•Ruler of everything-Tally hall

•The monolog from White Noise-Live at The Vermont Hollywood,Los Angeles,CA

•I/Me/Myself-Will wood

•Front street live monolog from the Will Wood Barbecue

•Front Street-Will Wood

•Gilded cog-Jamface

•Coitus with regulations-Jamface

•The waluigi hallelujah parody

•Revenge-Captain Sparkles

•Massah Please-Jamface

•The song with 5 names-Will wood and the tapeworms

•The new year new you eddsworld episode

•We are number one-Lazy town

•Story of undertale

•Against the kitchen floor-Will Wood

•6oh5out(pro/con)-Will Wood and the tapeworms

•Zen master-Jamface

•BlackBoxWarrior(okultra)-Will Wood

•Welcome to the black parade-My chemical romance

•Too many cooks

•I'm not ok-My chemical romance

•Akido(Neurotic Erotic)-Will Wood and the tapeworms

•Hand me my shovel I'm going in-Will Wood and the tapeworms

Jun 15

•Against the kitchen floor-Will Wood

•Don't come knocking-Holy locust

•Willard-Will Wood

•Modify-Lemon demon

•The computer song-DHMIS

•White noise-Will wood

•You didn't know-Hazbin Hotel

Jun 16

•The song with 5 names-Will Wood and the tapeworms

•Black hat from Villianous saying my domain

•Another man's grave-Amigo the devil

•As your father I expressly forbid it-Lemon demon

•White Noise live at the Vermont Hollywood-Will Wood

Jun 17

•Taco Tuesday-Ankle grease

•Coffee,god,and cigarettes-Mischeif Brew

•Roundabout-Yes!

Jun 18

•Lunchbox Friends-Melanie Martinez

•Love me normally-Will wood

•Suppertime-Little shop of horrors

•Feed me(Git it!)-Little shop of horrors

Jun 19

•Love,me normally-Will Wood

•Zen master-Jamface

•Coitus with regulations-Jamface

•If I believed-Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•Letter from death row-Amigo the devil

•Another man's grave-Amigo the devil

•Moth to the flame-LuLuYam

•Against the kitchen floor-Will Wood

•Drop for everyhour-Amigo the devil

•Stuff is way-They might be giants

Jun 20

•Everything and More-Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•"Many years ago,i took my finger,pushed in my penis,and it hasn't come out since"-Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•No one remembers Achmed- Twisted:The untold story of a royal vizier

•Massah please-Jamface

•Broadway Joe-Jamface

And a bonus,the song i woke up in my head this morning,Jun 21: White Noise-Will Wood

[pespillo]

The Kingdom of the Red Sun presents.....

"The Ruler´s Reach: A Universe of Love & Hate "

"After the death of the Grand Ruler of demons , siblings find themselves in strife, a sinister plot unravels itself in the streets, the world is coming to its end soon, good witch and horrid demon share blood but not the same goals, yet their hearts beat the same for glory"

Written and Produced by The Demon King in collaboration with humanity Production/Effects/Direction by Adrian Graye Sound by the Royal Bards Orchestra Stage Coordination by Lilith Clawthorne Starring Raine Whispers as "The New Ruler" and Skara Warbler as "Luzura"

[the production went for makeup and practical effects over full bodied concealment spells or big displays of illusion magic]

comments describe the gist of the play as such :

"The Old Grand Ruler is dead, the heir to the throne suspects foul play, Luzura insists it wasnt and it was gonna happen someday, tensions rise with enemies starting to swarm the vulnerable kingdom and Ruler wants to act quick and ruthlessly, Luzura embarks on a journey for more answers. Its all about the siblings slowly drifting from eachother and the warnings of transforming into different people who have to get to know eachother again, the play actually spans for years in it and has like 3 interludes, the ending and climax is as painful as you could imagine."

if you ask how those auditions went , Boscha tried out for any of both main parts but King already had Raine chosen without them knowing, King chose Skara for Luzura because she tried to audition for the music but started crying in the middle of the demo number.

its not that Boscha doesnt know how to act, at least for Ruler she had a lot of drive and potential, but King thinks she doesnt understand the character, and for Luzura he needed someone who was not hardened at all by their circumstances. Skara has a deadly anxiety for acting out for the very first time in public, and Raine is basically gonna force themself out of their own stage fright to help her out in this case, stage chemistry blooms and a good friendship between actors is born (the greatest excuse for me to have bard characters interacting more).

[huntersrequiem-if]

Humans are so interesting. Their lives – so short. Instead of despairing, they live their days to the fullest. And despite – or in spite of how dangerous the world is, they still enjoy it. They dance, they laugh, they sing. And how she loves watching them revel.

Such a shame, then, that the majority of mortals sleep at night. She can't witness the bustling days of those below her as they go about their lives.. Not like her husband, Sun.

No matter, surely she can find something to entrain herself with.

Her gaze sweeps over Sabine, watching the low lights in the streets – help guide people walking towards their homes. Couples strolling hand in hand, while drunkards go to and fro the taverns.

And perhaps, if she paid close attention to the dark alleyways – perhaps she would see a flash of cold steel, a drop of blood running along the edge. Wrinkling her nose, she wrecks her gaze away from the scene.

She is in no mood to see those unsavory types.

From her spot in the sky, she searches for something interesting. Something joyous! She pauses when her gaze sweeps over a bickering couple, curious. Chuckling at the insults the men threw at each other, she finds herself amused. What caused such strife? Lingering, it becomes clear it's over ...dishes?

Shaking her head with a faint smile over her lips, she moves on.

Her eyes land on one of her temples, pleased to see that the priestesses are rousing. They gather in the courtyard, singing and dancing. Some of them play instruments, the dulcet tone of a harp reaching her ears. Humming, she closes her eyes, savoring the sweet tune. Smiling, she recognizes the notes, often accompanying prayers toward her.

Yes, she shall offer them a closer look, tomorrow. If only for how beautiful they revel, dancing and singing the night away. A blessing shall do nicely. …should she remember it tomorrow…

Still pleased, she turns to the one constant source of amusement and entrainment. Past the stone walls and towers – towards the castle. Tonight, it seems to be a banquet.

The nobles dance - women in beautiful dresses, men in tailored suits. The orchestra plays a slow ballad as the nobles twirl in tune with the music. The royal family sits upon their thrones, silent spectators.

Not unlike her, she muses.

Still, she lingers on, watching the mortals dance. Watches and listens to the whispers in the shadows as they plot and scheme to their heart's content.

Mortals. So simple. So complicated. They seem to enjoy – and detest at the same time – a simple life. When it gets boring, they complicate it.

Her amusement gets the better of her as she continues to listen on, the moon shining bright – a backdrop for those mortals. She laughs at their jokes, and she gasps at the thinly veiled insults. She hums and sings when she recognizes a song.

She is filled with bliss, even as the mortals begin to leave - first one nobleman departs from the banquet hall, followed by another couple. Eventually, nearly all of them had taken their leave. The orchestra plays a final mournful song, the notes filled with melancholy.

Despite the darkness of the night, the moon still shines brightly, accompanied by her darling stars.

Even so, she had her fill of mortals. Her gaze wanders away from them, from their cities – towards the wildness. Seeking out her favorite hunter.

Wyldewood is a treacherous place, where the trees reach towards the sky with sharp, jagged edges, and ferocious beasts that lurk in the shadows. The thick tangles of thorns and vines move with a mind of their own, claiming many mortal lives, should the woods be hungry.

Still, she must persist. It would be a shame to end this lovely night without even glimpsing her dear hunter.

First, she looks at the Skytree, the easiest to see with its gentle glow. A sigh leaves her as she finds it empty. She resigns herself to a more detailed search. Her eyes sweep over the scarce meadows – all empty – towards the places she knows the hunter likes to visit.

Ah – there they are! – perched on a branch, nearly obscured by the foliage. Yet, the leaves don’t manage to hide them completely, as moonlight shines through them. Smiling, she admired the way their skin seemed to glow in the soft moonlight. How utterly at ease they seem in the dark forest.

 The relaxed slope of their shoulders as they lean against the bark of the tree. The sinuous curve of their muscles as they rest their hands on their raised knee. The way their horns catch just the barest of light. The way their eyes shine in the dark like those of a predator.

Yet, they seem so soft as they gaze at the moon. Are they thinking of her? Are they talking with Astaroth?... are they content? 

Are they troubled?

Perhaps – she shall ask on the next full moon. She won’t forget, not this.

How she wishes they would speak their problems into the night, she would always listen – no matter how occupied she would be. She would lend a listening ear, and on their next meeting, she could offer more.

She loses track of the time as she looks at them.

The moon is descending – completing its celestial journey. She barely notices – until she can see no more.

[seth-shitposts]

another fic idea I plan on expanding upon

so Alex and I have been throwing this concept back and forth for at least a week or two now, but-

So AU where the war didn't happen. Zeb is a son in an aristocratic family, and the family often has trips and work throughout the galaxy.

One time, they have him take a vacation to go with them. He very much did not want to join, he had too many duties to attend to in the palace. He finally agrees when one of his siblings reminds him of how bored he's been and another says that they're going to Coruscant, which means they'll also be going to the royal orchestra house.

On the first day on coruscant, Zeb still thinks that most of the trip will be boring. That is until a fight breaks out between some security guards and a few scavengers from the lower levels. Zeb is had been warned not to interfere before hand, as it could cause a violation between Coruscant and Lasan. So he observes what was happening and then saw that one scavenger slips away from the scrimmage with whatever was looted from the jeweler store.

He chases this tall, scruffy-look blond through the streets and down a couple of levels. The scavenger passes the bag off to someone else, who goes in the opposite direction, but something tugs Zeb to continue pursuing the person. Besides, he didn't really have any intention of making an arrest or recovering the jewels. He wants some excitement and this scavenger has been throwing taunts at Zeb the whole way down.

He leads Zeb through a maze of alleyways and... to a dead end. Zeb looks up when he hears laughter from above. "Sorry Lasat, it's not your day."

Hissing a growl between his teeth, Zeb launches himself to the wall and scales it, catching up to the scoundrel. "Day's not over yet, buddy."

Something about the spark of determination in the other’s eyes thrills Zeb. The two begin a brawl, and Zeb is impressed with how well the other holds his ground to him. There's a lot of heat in the fight, but no malice. Reminds Zeb of the spars he's had with his fellow guardsmen. It ends all too soon, coruscanti guards quickly making their way down the levels. The human knocks Zeb off his balance and takes advantage of the stumble to make his escape. "It was a pleasure, but I very much don't like prison."

From the spot Zeb lays on the rooftop, he watches as the scavenger salutes him before falling backwards off the roof. In a panic, zeb scambles to the edge, watching as the other falls for just a short while longer before being scooped by a passing speeder. Zeb laughs as the speeder descends deeper into the planet.

And he thinks that his path crossing with the man is just a one time coincidence.

That is, until the night he goes to the ochresta. His family rented a private viewing suite. He's watching the performance when he feels like he heard something down the way. Zeb tells his family he's leaving for some fresh air, not hearing anything other than the sound of something clattering before hurriedly trying to be muffled. Zeb walks past gaurds who don't pay the noise any mind, so it's probably farther away.

Zeb goes down a few floors, to the empty rooms that are kept behind locked doors. Slipping in, Zeb follows much quieter sounds, sounds of humming and tapping, with pained hiss slipping inbetween the melodies.

Zeb swings a door open into a dark storage room, props and old instruments having been knocked down by an open window. Zeb follows the mess until his eyes quickly meet the scavenger from earlier, stating at him like a deernny in headlights.

And they just stare at each other for a moment. Zeb's eyes fall to where his hands are, wrapping a very injured knee with bacta bandages. Panic sinks into the scavenger's eyes as he looks between Zeb and the window, as if trying to calculate how the kriff he's going to make it to the window without getting grabbed. Zeb quietly closes the door and walks closer to the other slowly.

"Lovely night for the orchestra, eh?"

The other looks Zeb up and down, cautiously continuing his piss-poor medic work. "Yeah... they're playing stuff from Lothal all week. Very lovely." His eyes never leave the other.

Zeb rolls his eyes and takes a seat on the crate across from him, next to where his foot is propped up. "Yeah, the arrangement is a set of scores that were composed on the planet." He picks up items from the open medical supplies thrown across the floor. "And you're doin' this wrong. If ya don't splint your knee, this'll heal incorrectly." Zeb holds his other hand out for the roll of bandages.

The scavenger scans Zeb over for a moment, before making a decision and handing the roll to the other. With nothing left to hold, the other grips the edge of the crate he's sitting on.

Zeb works on unwrapping the bandages until he gets to the torn layer of pants that reveal some pretty painful looking discoloration on the human’s pale skin. "With stunts like the one ya pulled yesterday, I can’t imagine how this happened."

The comment pulls a huff of laughter from the other between winces as Zeb uses the splint to support his knee and begin wrapping it.

"I- mm... I would say that my 'stunts' aren't the cause of this, but it was my own fault that I got this injury, so you aren't too far off, actually."

Humming, Zeb rolls a thumb over the final wrap of the bacta, his hold becoming much more gentle than firm now as he helps the other maneuver his leg off the crate. "So if not your acrobatic tricks, how'd you get like this?" Zeb motions to his knee, "I very much doubt one of those guards actually caught you, seeing as how you're not behind bars."

A smile ghosts over his lips as he looks to the wall that separates them from the open room of the orchestra house, music still thundering through despite it. "I'm bad at following orders. I disobeyed a direct order and..."

A mixed feeling of shock and terror washes over Zeb. He’s been warned of many of the horror stories of the lower levels, but... "Your own people did that to you?" Zeb doesn't dare let the question why do you stay slip from his tongue, knowing that it's probably not even an option for the man across from him.

The other man just shrugs, "you really don't want to hear the rest of that story, Princling."

Zeb shakes his head with a frown, "I'm not a prince."

The other gives this smug kriffing smirk as he leans against the tower of supplies behind him. "You're something adjacent to the title. What is your proper title then, hm? What would you like me to call you?"

"Just call me Zeb."

The other tilts his head, the smugness having been short lived. "What’s that short for?"

Zeb crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the tower of crates behind him as well. "How do you know its short for something?"

The other rolls his eyes, "I honestly really don't know much about Lasat or Lasan, but I do know that the language tends to be difficult for most throughout the galaxy to learn and pronounce. I could be very incorrect in saying this, but that probably isn't the full name of a fancy aristocrat such as yourself, Starling."

Zeb breathes out his nose sharply. "That's still more than what most people tend to know. It's Garazeb. My name."

And then the other rolls the name off his tongue, as if he’s said it a thousand times before and Zeb’s breath stops short. "Garazeb. Now that's lovely," a wolf-ish grin breaks over his face.

Zeb swallows hard, ignoring the flick of his ear as his blood rushes to his face. "So what's your name, huh?"

The other's eyes loose their playful tone, smile dropping. "Not important." He moves to stand up, swaying for a moment before catching himself, "don't need to get into any more trouble than I've already gotten myself." He turns to walk toward the window, presumably to make another jump.

"Aye, aye, aye!" Zeb catches his wrist to stop him, but the other flinches from his touch. So instead, Zeb moves to block the path to the window. "You really shouldn't be doing crazy jumps with that knee of yours."

The other frowns as he takes a step back from Zeb, but steps on something he had knocked over earlier and causes himself to lose balance. He winces, or more accurately braces for impact.

Zeb moves in and catches him before he either hits the ground or tries to catch himself on the crates and then hits the ground.

The injured man tries to wrestle out of the hold that saved him. Zeb stands them back up and lets go, placing his hands on his hips but doesn't move away. The other just crosses his arms over his chest as he tries to figure out a new escape. "Well, I climbed up here, didn't I?" He growls out his next sentence, "I can climb back to the hole I crawled out of."

Zeb just rolls his eyes. "You're so intimidating with that injury, you're right, I should cower out of the way so you can break your kriffing neck."

The man chews on the inside of his cheeks as he glares at Zeb. "Fine. If you can figure out a way to smuggle me past the security, I won't scale the building back down. I'll catch a speeder back down."

Shaking his head, Zeb scratches his neck. "And then what? Are you going to stay off that leg until it heals? I very much doubt that."

The other sneers at Zeb, lip curling. "What I do is honestly none of your business. It doesn't affect you one way or the other."

Zeb sighs, he wants to help the other until he's able to move around and take care of himself. He curses Kanan and Hera for instilling such a lack of common sense in him when it comes to helping others.

'Yeah, you don't really have anyone else to blame that one on, buddy,' Zeb can hear Ezra laughing at him now.

"Look, I have a needlessly huge deluxe suite to myself. There's plenty of room. You can stay with me while I'm here so your leg can fully heal."

The other tenses, resisting the urge to take another step back in the cramped space. "No thank you, Garazeb. You've already-"

Zeb flinches as the lights are flicked on, "what's going on here? You two can't be back here."

Both men turn to look at a gaurd standing in the doorway. Zeb glances back at the other, watching as panic fills his eyes but his face goes blank. Zeb pushes a laugh out as he slips his arm over his shoulders and looks back to the gaurd, "Sorry man, we got lost on our way to the food court and my friend here really needed to rest his leg," Zsb motions down to the other's injury, "and I had a hell of a time trying to find a bench." Zeb makes a few clicks of his tongue as he shakes his head. "That's quite a lack of accessibility, honestly."

The gaurd tries to think of something to say, but Zeb is already guiding the scavenger past him. "We'll be on our way now, thank you for your service."

The other allows Zeb to guide him out the building and to a speeder.

[xzerosparrowx]

wip of my drarry ballet au fic. Inspired by The Red Shoes and Black Swan. This first scene is pretty much the opening scene in The Red Shoes.

P.S. Eat dirt, Joanne.

The excitable chatter of the barely contained line of people fill the street, the sidewalk slick with rain reflecting the warm yellow glow of London. Standing at the foot of a door are two men, shouting out for calm to the rabble of young folks eagerly awaiting for the door to open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione tuck their umbrellas underneath their arms as the line surges forward briefly, a few angry shouts of line cutting behind them that seem to settle as quickly as it had begun.

“See, told you it was a good idea to come two hours early,” Hermione boasts, smiling at Ron and Harry, who are taking the brunt of the pushing line behind them.

“We are forever in your debt, oh wise one,” Ron bows, tipping dangerously forward as someone knocks into him, “watch it!”

There is no build up or warning to the doors opening, but the line still surges forward as if a gun had gone off at the races. The doormen quickly step out of the way as the line scrambles inside and up the stairs, people pushing and jockeying for a better position. Ron holds Hermione’s hand as Harry sprints up ahead, bursting through the doors, stepping over chairs to get to the balcony of the dress circle and laying himself out to save two extra seats.

“Move it!” A tall brunette orders, slapping at Harry’s scuffed dress shoes just as Ron and Hermione arrive, filling the seats.

“Sorry, early bird and all,” Harry smirks, earning a blustering scowl from the brunette and their partner.

“Mum packed us food,” Ron smiles, producing three baking paper lined sandwiches from his large brown coat, “Ham and cheese for ‘Mione and a bacon butty for Harry.”

“God save Molly Weasley,” Harry laughs, biting into the perfectly cooked bacon.

“Programmes?” An usher calls out.

“Two here thanks!” The brunette answers, grabbing two programmes from the usher's hand.

“One here,” Harry stands, taking one of the programmes from the brunette “thank you!” Which earns another round of scowling and muttered swears from the couple.

“Professor Lockhart's music better be good, we’ve spent nearly half of our rent for these tickets,” Ron grumbles as they look over the programme, taking a swig from a bottle that also comes out of his coat.

“Delacour would be able to dance to anything, even if the music is awful,” the brunette says happily.

“Dela-who?”

“Come now,” the brunette laughs, “you cannot have been standing in that line for two hours waiting to see her dance-”

“Not to see anybody. To hear.” Harry interrupts, finishing off his sandwich in two big bites.

“Look,” he continues, brandishing the opened programme in front of the couple, “it says here, composer Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“Have you heard of him?” Hermione asks, a little bite in her politeness that makes Ron smile adoringly at her.

“Never.”

“You will,” Ron says through his now finished sandwich, taking off his coat and hanging it over the balcony.

“He’s our Professor at the Royal Academy of Music,” Hermione informs happily, grabbing the bottle from Ron and taking a long pull.

“So Del-whatever better be good,” Ron side-eyes.

The brunette, now red in the face, opens their mouth to say something just as the orchestra begins to fine tune their instruments.

“Oh! There he is!” Hermione gasps, pointing out towards one of the private boxes closest to the stage.

“Oi! Lockhart!” Harry and Ron bellow together laughing as Lockhart, a handsome fellow with golden curls and a flamboyantly gray and pink suit, smiles up at them and gives them a little wave.

“He must be blind if that's the suit he's wearing,” the brunette laughs before being promptly shushed by the seats behind them as a settled silence moves through the theatre.

The string section fades in, a soft dolce accompanied by a pianissimo, with light touches of pizzicato from the violins. Harry closes his eyes to the melody and theme of the piece, letting it wash over him. It feels like a memory, the music gentle and quietly melancholic, like something he had heard once in a dream. No. No he had heard this before, had hummed the melody in the brittle hours of the morning in his first year at the Academy, had poured over the piano and ink until he dreamt in musical notations.

“Harry, isn't that your string piece from first year?” Ron whispers and Harry can only nod in reply.

“What? It must be a coincidence, right? Lockhart wouldn't lift it, surely,” Hermionie tries to reason, sounding less than convinced even as she says it.

Harry shrugs noncommittally, even when the cold bite of betrayal sinks its teeth into his stomach, and tries to focus on the ballet instead. It has to be a coincidence. Has to be.

The dancers float across the stage on pointe, the muscle in their legs straining while their faces maintain a soft serenity, even under the hot stage lights. Harry had not danced since he was thirteen, but he remembers the hours of practice to maintain a pirouette, the sweat and unhinged strive for perfectionism. He does not envy them. Going into music was the best thing he ever did.

A fanfare of trumpets and the sudden commotion of a battaglia, discordant and heavy, rips Harry from the dancers and back to the music.

“That's yours too, isn't it Harry?” Hermione whispers, but from the furrow on her brow she already knows the answer.

Lockhart stole his music, bits, and pieces of his soul taken apart and repurposed. His eyes naturally fall over to Lockhart, who is just sitting there, enjoying the ballet, enjoying Harry’s music. He wants to scream, to tell everyone that Gilderoy Lockhart is a talentless hack, but Ron has a firm, reassuring grip on his shoulder. Instead, he gets up and pushes past the brunette and their partner without a second to apologize, while Ron and Hermione quickly follow behind him, apologizing profusely as people scowl and complain behind them.

-

“Harry, you can’t just break into Lockhart’s office, you’ll get expelled before you even have a chance to explain why,” Hermione reasons, taking a large gulp of her beer, “besides, we don’t know for sure if he had intended to steal your music or if he just used it for inspiration.”

“Inspiration? Come on, I bet that lousy moron has stolen heaps of students works,” Ron bristles, downing the rest of his beer in one large gulp, “I bet there are heaps of people with the same story as yours that just never brought it forward because Lockhart is famous and ‘respected’.”

In the center of Hog’s Head, a student pub at the corner of Baker and Bickenhall Street, Harry nurses his beer and seethes, Hermione and Ron both encouraging and discouraging his more reckless tendencies in equal measure.

“Ok, so I won’t break into his office,” Harry concedes, plucking a couple of hot chips from the shared bowl in the middle of the table, “but he has stolen my work, note for note. Ron is right, there has to be other students that he’s done this to as well.”

“Maybe you could write a strongly worded letter to Lockhart-”

“A letter?” Ron laughs, “To Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, you stole my music. Fuck you! Sincerely, Harry James Potter.”

“Ok, well how about the director?” Hermione asks, finishing off her beer.

“What director?”

“Of the ballet. I'm sure he would appreciate knowing that the music he was using was stolen,” Hermione smiles, before getting up and going to the bar.

“I'm going to marry her one day, Harry.”

[desswright29]

The Golden Stairs

Pairing: Shuri X Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Contains: Fluff (hella fluffy), Some angst, and Smut, romantic proposal 🥰, Shuri is in looove!

A/n: I wrote and deleted this several times over the past month. This story stomped me in my chest, grabbed me by my hair and banged my head against the wall! But I wrote it cause I love y’all.

Please enjoy! 😄

Y/n pov

My heart rate increased as I sat in the car releasing short and quick puffs of air to control my erratic breathing. Palms sweaty and limbs shaking, I glanced into the side mirror to see if my eyes had deceived me. They had not. There she stood in all of her regality, stuck in the center of the sidewalk, hands intertwined infront of her body as she stared into space. She rocked a low cut now, making her look attractively mature; and the black and white suit did her all the more justice. Even with all of that, she looked lost. I pulled my eyes from the mirror as they began to burn from the tears threatening to fall. Why was she here? Why today of all days, would she show up! Ofcourse she would, It was classic Shuri to show up and shift my atmosphere on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. No! It is indeed the happiest day of my life! I won’t allow her to get inside of my head. I get a handle on my breathing, remembering how Shuri destroyed me. Destroyed us! I’ve moved on and I’m receiving the love I deserve. So, fuck her! 

“Baby.” A soft baritone called from the drivers side of the car, releasing me from my mental torment. A tear involuntarily escaped my eye as I turned to look at my new husband, plastering on the best smile I could muster. “You ok? What’s going on Peaches?” The concern etched onto his face while he comfortingly gripped my hand, caused a slight ache in my chest. He was always so good to me, so patient. How dare I still care for Shuri. “Of course! I’m just overwhelmed my love. This has been such a beautiful day. I can’t believe we’re married now! We made it Mike!” I laugh wiping away the tears that fell for her, trying to lighten the mood as I attempted to push the thoughts of her away. Don’t mistake my shock for unhappiness with my situation. Michael has been nothing short of amazing from the moment he began to pursue me. He consistently handled my heart with care, and gave me grace from the side effects of the trauma my relationship with Shuri had caused. He loved me whole, and never left room for doubt. Still, seeing Shuri after so long, brought long forgotten emotions back to the forefront. Now, I can’t help but think about how this should’ve been us.

—————————————————————————

 3 years Ago

  No matter how often you’d been granted access into Wakanda, your mind could never quite comprehend the magnitude of its beauty. Your eyes were bright with wonder as you watched the towering buildings of Capital City twinkle in the night sky. They whisked by as you were driven through the city streets in the Royal Rolls Royce. To think that this country was a testament to the inconceivable intellect of your woman always baffled you. The thought of her belonging to you made you swell with pride. 

It had been two years and 5 months since she’d placed her heart on her sleeve for you in the parking lot of a club. Likely one of her lowest moments, but she’d put her pride aside to fight for you. Baring her soul, making promises of placing the world at your feet. Fittingly, you were skeptical after all that had transpired. So you made her work for your time and effort. Putting pressure on her that could build warriors. Every grand gesture was met with push back, every slick word, met with skepticism and rebuttal. If she was going to have you, It was going to be pure and honest. All of the requisite steps to protecting your heart had been taken. You kept it up until you eventually broke her.

After months of her pouring her all into the extended apology, you both lie side by side on a plush blanket; one completely disconnected from the other. A navy gradient was the backdrop for a full moon; the night sky so clear you could almost see every crater. You both stared up into a blanket of star’s, as the vodka clear lake shimmered, luminescent in the moons glow. A picnic basket filled with all of your favorites seperated the two of you, along with flowers Shuri had hand picked herself. Fairy lights hung from the trees surrounding you, rose petals spread sporadically across the blanket while four lanterns illuminated each corner. 

Another perfectly planed date was coming to an end. Shuri made sure to cross every T and dot every I, and still you showed minimal interest. Hardly engaging in conversation, Nitpicking the food and quite frankly you seemed bothered to be around her. Quiet. The crickets chirped, and the water was still. Staggered breathing, and a sniffle caught your attention; and you turn to look at Shuri just in time to catch the moonlight highlight the lone tear falling down her cheek into her ear. Jaw clenching and trembling as she swallowed, trying to hold back a sob. God! She even made crying look glorious. 

“What are we doing?” Her voice trembled and broke, betraying her strong front. She didn’t make a move to look in your direction. “Well, I’m just waiting on you to take me ho-“ Shuri cut you off, sitting up abruptly. “Stop! Stop it y/n!” Her voice raised in a desperate plea. “I c-can’t keep doing this.” Her hands shot up to her uniformed curls, pushing them back from her forehead in a frenzy, as though she couldn’t stand the feel of them against her skin. Her anxiety in the moment causing sensory issues. “I understand I hurt you, but you said you’d give me a fair chance, baby y-you don’t seem to want this. Ndiyakuthanda, ngako konke endinako (I love you, with all I have). Giving so much of myself and watching you not want it. Is killing me.” 

“Shuri-“

“Wait.” She released a shaky breath “I’m giving it my all uthando (love), It would tear me to peices to watch you walk away, but I’m doing the work. I need to know will it ever be enough.” Now sitting up, you stared out at the water, tears running down your cheeks. “This.. this is all so perfect Shuri. This date and every other one you put effort into. All of the gifts were well thought out. Nothing gaudy or over the top. You’ve been perfection. What I’m saying is, I see your effort, I see the changes in you, I’ve appreciated and enjoyed every single moment we’ve spent together. But, I’m so scared Shuri. So afraid of the love I have for you. It’s all consuming. I look into those eyes Shuri and I want to melt into you. I want to let go of the fear and breathe you in, bask in this feeling of being loved carefully, and protectively. But every single fucking time  there’s this feeling of impending doom.” You look straight into her eyes, wanting to make your next point exceedingly clear. “I can’t allow you to believe that it would ever be ok for you to treat me the way you did before. If you want me, I want it to be only me Shuri. Don’t play games with my heart.” Shuri’s head began to shake fervently side to side. 

“I wish I’d never been so careless with your heart intombi eswiti (sweet girl). It took some time to recognize my mistakes. To see past my own selfishness, but I would give up everything if it meant I could finally call you mine officially. I’d give the air from my lungs for that honor. Only if it’s what you want too. I could allow you to walk away right now, if that is what would make you happy. However, I’d always be waiting for you. You placed the love back into my heart and then you took it as your own. I belong to you. So, I’m begging you y/n. Be with me. I want the chance to cherish you as my woman. I want to take my time with your heart. Continue learning to give you the love I know that you want and deserve from me. My ego has long been placed aside sthandwa. I love you y/n.” 

You’d pulled your legs into your chest, hugging your shins, and sobbing into your knees. Shuri moved in front of you, sitting legs spreading excepting you inbetween them, she grabbed both sides of your face, pulling your head up to face her. Both of your eyes were swollen and red, wet and dry tears coating your faces. “I love you, I love you, I love you” She repeated, you could hear her heart pour from her voice as she stared into your deep brown irises. You finally break falling into her arms. She held you in her arms,  pressing your head against her chest. She rocked you like a baby as she continued to reassure you. Kissing your forehead, speaking words of affirmation as you cried together. That night you would officially become hers. Mind, Body, and Soul.

————————————————————————

It’d been two years to the day, and Shuri had kept her word; becoming all you could have asked for and things you could have never imagined. With you by her side she’d become the most noted ruler of Wakanda. Yes, Ofcourse with the worlds obsession with attractiveness, the whispers around the world began from Shuri’s first live press conference in America. It was said that Wakanda had the most beautiful, androgynous Queen anyone had ever seen; who had a swagger that could bring any man or woman to their knees. But then, Shuri consistently began breaking through ceilings of limitations people placed upon her. 

Politicians saw her and expected some young suave, conceited, scientist that however intelligent, was unfit to rule.  It was an easy and popular consensus. However, She was not only intelligent, she was the smatest person in the world, She spoke with the power and authority of Romanda, She was strong, compassionate, and open minded as T’challa had been, But cross her or her people and she could easily summon her inner N’jadaka. Anyone who had ever doubted her felt regret every moment of her reign as Queen. She OOZED power. But she had a weakness.

You quickly rose to fame. Becoming a Queen in your own right, having a work ethic like no one had ever seen. Being a genius level engineer had worked in your favor in the industry. Not only were you surpassing all other artist in lyricism and vocal ability; Your shows were a site to behold. You and Shuri created the most elaborate sets, and people lined up for miles to witness your greatness. People had tried to account your success with your connection to the Queen, until it became apparent that your talent was undeniable. Your life with Shuri was what dreams where made of. Wakanda loved and excepted you as though you were their own. You created peace for Shuri, creating a calm joy in her that she never believed she would have again. She was grounded by you. The sound of your voice, your innocent smile, hell just the mention of your name brought an uncontainable smile to her face. Your relationship with Shuri became the embodiment of what love should be. 

The car coming to a stop jarred you out of your thoughts. As your driver exited the car, you reach for your purse pulling out your compact mirror to check your make up. It was perfection, courtesy of Shuri. You’d flown into Wakanda this morning after celebrating the last show of your 6 month tour with your crew. She hadn’t been able to make the show which wasn’t a rare occurrence for either of you with both of your demanding schedules, but you both always made it up to one another. This time you were pretty sure that Shuri was planning something unecessarily extravagant for your anniversary so you were a bit more understanding than usual. You had been correct. As soon as you’d landed you were greeted with staff whisking you off to a day of pampering. Nakia, and Aneka accompanied you. 

There was brunch, massages, mani’s and pedi’s and you decided to get your natural hair in a wash and go. You’d come back home hoping to finally see Shuri but were met with a beautiful nude gown that was covered in Swarovski crystals and had a split traveling all the way up your thigh to the hip.  There was a full glam squad waiting on you and you were told you’d be meeting Shuri at a recently opened restaurant in the inner city. As always Shuri had gone above and beyond! You shut your mirror placing it back into your bag and adjust your dress.

The door to the car was opened and you gracefully place your heeled foot onto the pavement below you to exit the car. An unexpected gasp came from your throat as you take in your surroundings. In front of you was the most magnificent grand staircase that appeared to be made of solid gold and vibranium. Various cultural symbols from Wakanda were carved into them. At the bottom of the stairs, Two men in traditional Wakandan garb from the golden tribe waited with single white roses with golden stems. 

The driver offered you his arm, and you took it still wide eyed, at the beautifully unique staircase. You met the two men at the bottom of the stairs. The driver released you and stepped back with a slight nod, signaling the men to take over, as he walked away. The men handed you the roses. “Good evening, Ms. Y/l/n” They both say. One offered you his arm while the other stepped behind holding your small train. As you stepped forward onto the first stair, the symbols on the stairs glowed white revealing the symbols were placed strategically, ultimately creating a large portrait of 2 Queens face to face. Violins began to swell, as a holographic wall appears infront of you. 

If I Ain’t Got you. Written by Shuri Udaku  

Appeared on the wall in front of you as you continued up the steps. It disappeared only to be replaced with a photo of you and Shuri. You immediately giggle at the memory. It was the first official picture taken of you both as a couple. Courtesy of Nakia. You’d spent all night christening your new relationship, and she thought it’d be funny to snap a picture of your irritated faces as she burst in on your “honeymoon” the next morning. You and Shuri’s face both mirrored irritatation, as you sat snuggled into her lap with a blanket covering you both. Various pictures continued to scroll into the night sky with each step you took. Your heart rate was slowly increasing as piano now began to accompany the violins as you ascended the stairs. 

At the height of the stairs, your breath catches in your throat and your eyes glass over. “No way this is happening” A large fountain spreads across the massive courtyard of a white and gold building, water jutted out like geysers on both sides of a glass pathway through the center of the pool. The walkway illuminated by lighting, different shades of white and purple, which happened to be yours and Shuri’s favorite color. As breathtaking as the sight was, it paled in comparison to the view of your friends and family surrounding the marble courtyard. Seated on either side of the pool there was a full orchestra, and lines of people waiting for you with white roses with golden stems. Your eyes brimmed with tears. 

A voice rang out, causing you to look ahead that’s when you finally noticed Alicia freaking Keys sitting at a piano in the front of the fountain. The lyrics of the song appeared above her like subtitles as she sang. Your friends and family began to walk up to you each handing you a rose smiling from ear to ear. Giving little comments like “You’re so beautiful” or “Get it girl”. Some were already in tears. 

Some people live for the fortune

Some people live just for the fame

Some people live for the power, yeah

Some people live just to play the game

Some people think

That the physical things

Define what's within

And I've been there before

That life's a bore

So full of the superficial

Listening to the lyrics your girlfriend wrote, your heart swelled. You almost stopped paying attention to the people handing you flowers, until at the end of the lines of people you see your mother and your sister practically beaming at you. As soon as you see them you let out a soft sob slightly bending at the waist. Your sister ran up to you. Grabbing you into a hug. She pulled tissues from her bag and gently dabbed your eyes. “You look so beautiful sister, don’t mess up your beautiful make up before she see’s you.” She says with a tear escaping her own eye. Your mother reached you both, face beaming with pride as she grabbed your hand squeezing. “Mommy! Dani! H-how?” 

“She’s been planning this since you went on tour. Well she got us involved at that point, but something tells me she’s been planning this day from the moment you said yes to being her girlfriend.” Your mother stated gesturing in amazement at the everything Shuri had put together. Her and your sister share an amused chuckle. “How did everyone get here? I was just with my crew before I got on my flight.” You were amazed and confused. “She sent jets Ofcourse” Your sister rolled her eyes and laughed at how casually she was able to say that. Shuri had sent 15 jets to locations only disclosed to the people you held closest to your heart. That would be family, best friends, and your main crew from work that was always with you. She’d made sure they were greeted by her and comfortably housed for their stay. The things your love was capable of. “Come on” She said grabbing your arm as your mother grabbed the other. “Pay attention” She says, as they walk you to the edge of the fountain to continue watching Alicia perform with the orchestra and pictures of you and Shuri continue to appear. 

Some people search for a fountain

Promises forever young

Some people need three dozen roses

And that's the only way to prove you love them

Hand me the world on a silver platter

And what good would it be

With no one to share, with no one who truly cares for me

Some people want it all

But I don't want nothing at all

If it ain't you, baby

If I ain't got you, baby

Some people want diamond rings

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, you, you

Your head lay on your mothers shoulder as your sister continuously dabs at your eyes, and checks your makeup. The doors to the building opened and twelve Dora file out six heading right and six heading left in single file lines. Once they get in position they faced center. And then there she was. Shuri. Okoye to the left of her and Nakia to the right of her. Your eyes immediately connect with hers as the music began to swell. Shuri began walking towards the other end of the path as the Dora threw their arms across their chest in salute as she walked past. She was stunning in a simple black suit tailored to perfection with a diamond harness, and her heeled boots. You loved when Shuri wore heels. Your sister squeezed your arm, and you lifted your head to look at her, she took your flowers, and they both looked at you eyes watering smiles setting their faces aglow. “Go on, baby. Go get your woman.” Your mother says. You smile, turning seeing that Shuri was standing at the end of the pathway waiting for you. You take a deep breath, and step onto the glass as Shuri does the same. Swallowing, you walk toward the love of your life, your gorgeous gown flowing behind you, as water shot into the sky beside you with each step you both took. 

If I ain't got you with me, baby, oh, ooh

Said nothing in this whole wide world don't mean a thing

If I ain't got you with me, baby

You now stood face to face with Shuri. Your body shaking with anticipation. Nerves getting the best of you already. Her eyes were glassed over already holding back tears. She let out a deep calming breath grabbing both of your hands.

“Molo mntu omhle (Hello Beautiful)” Her voice echoed throughout the area so that everyone could hear. You offer her a soft smile as you let out a wet exhale. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down into your eyes. “I’m sure you’ve gathered what is happening by now.” She smiles, and giggles were heard around the yard. “ I was inside the building kind of panicking, because I wanted to do this from the heart.” She let go of one of your hands placing her right hand over her heart. “So I didn’t write anything and my mind was going blank in there because I’m nervous as hell!” More laughter erupted as you let out a chuckle. She grabs your hand again. 

“I knew though, that once I was in your presence, everything I needed to say would come rushing at me. You’ve always had that effect on me. In my position I have to always be strong, logical, unemotional. But with you I’m just Shuri. To everyone else I’m The Black Panther, and to you I’m just Kitty.” She shakes her head at everyone’s laughter. “I can’t believe I said that outloud. When I met you, I was searching for something, little did I know it was someone. The girl of my dreams. The one who would unapologetically give all of her love to me. You stood beside me as a friend, and I knew that I could always depend on you, that anything life threw at me you’d be there beside me. You’ve been my strength when I wanted to give in. I could spend a lifetime showing you how special you are to me. You made it easy for me in the loneliest times of my life. I knew the moment I saw you dance I wanted to marry you. Cause damn.” 

She bit her lip grinning and nodding to herself. You softly hit her arm. “Move it along perv.” You say as laughter filled the area. “But really, everything about you seemed so familiar to me. The feel of your hands, the way you felt in my arms. If I could go back in time, I’d tell you thank you. Let you know your as beautiful now as you were then. Hold your hands just like I’m doing now. The same hands I’ll hold in front of a minister, the same hands that’ll carry my son and his sister. I’d thank you for the first kiss in three weeks, for when we make love in six weeks. For the ring you’d wear proudly 3 years from then. For when you say I do in fall and for those beautiful children of ours. I know it would sound strange because we would have just met. But I’d be thanking you in advance.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. At this point you were trying not to hyperventilate. 

Shuri with her own tears streaming down her face, licked her lips and let out a puff of air before continuing “We’ve been through so much intombi yam (my girl) we’ve laughed, like when you had that show in Georgia and as we left the arena someone in traffic was playing “wipe me down” and you climbed on the roof of our moving car just in time to yell” Everybody in the crowd yells it out as Shuri says it “B.O.O.S.I.E  B.A.D.A.Z.Z THATS ME!” The crowd was roaring as you did a little twerk as they sang. Shuri threw her head back laughing. Everyone had saw that video, it went viral and was on every news station across the world. “You pissed Okoye off that day. But that’s what I love about you. You’re fearless and nobody makes me laugh like you. We’ve cried. In the beginning I didn’t go about us in the best way. And I’ll spend the rest of our lives making that up to you, if you’ll have me.” She got down on one knee, and you let out choked sobs. “As Queen and Black Panther. I kneel to no one. But today and forever after I kneel to you humbly. Y/f/n will you do me the honor of being my lifetime partner, my wife, my Queen.” She pulled out a box opening it to reveal one large oval diamond with a vibranium band with clustered diamonds. You were absolutely speechless. All you could manage was a breathless “yes” as you nodded.

Shuri smiled big sliding the ring onto your finger before standing and scooping you into her arms, holding you by your waist as you grabbed her face placing kisses all over before finally connecting your lips as she spun you in circles. Fireworks started to go off as you heard “ Happily Ever After” by Case began to play in the back ground. That was one of your favorite songs. You pull back looking into her eyes. “I’m so in love with you”

“I hope so fiancé.” she says as she finally placed you on your feet. As soon as she placed you on your feet your mom and your sister rushed you. “Let me see the ring!!“ your sister yells. You proudly hold out your hand as you guys scream and jump around together “OH MY GOD that is beautiful sister! You did your big one with this one sis! Big Panther not the lil one!” She said turning towards Shuri and hugging her. Shuri stepped back and popped her lapel “Well you know” You all share a laugh as your mom pops your sisters arm.  “Danielle act like you got some sense!” Your mom says as she hugs you. “I’m so happy for you y/n. You seem to be in wonderful hands.” She turns to Shuri giving her a hug. “Thank you for loving my daughter the way you do. I’m so happy to welcome you as my bonus daughter. You’ve got plenty of family now, so visit as often as you can.” Shuri teared up a bit more going in for another hug with your mother. “Of course we will. You won’t be able to get rid of me” 

Nakia, Okoye, Aneka, and Ayo all come up and embrace you giving you congrats and gawking at the ring. Nakia pulls you to the side, holding your hand as Shuri and M’Baku teased one another. “Thank you y/n for loving her the way you do.” You gave a soft smile. “I don’t have a regret in the world Nakia.” She steps up and engulfs you in a long embrace. 

————————————————————————

The rest of the night was filled with drinking, laughter, music, dancing, pictures and congratulations. You and Shuri had finally entered the sanctity of your second home. Both of you heading straight toward the bedroom upon entering your home. Entering the bedroom you’re surprised once again to see that Shuri had had it decorated for the night while you both were out. Candles lit up the room, with rose petals and balloons. There was a large assortment of fruit with whipped cream, honey, and chocolate sauce lined across the top of the tray, and a bottle of champagne with two glasses, sitting at the center of the bed.  “Baby I can’t cry anymore tonight. I’m going to turn into a puddle.” You’d already started crying. She walked up to you pressing her body against yours, placing a soft kiss to your lips “Nwabela usuku lwakho owaqala ngalo iqabane” (happy anniversary fiancé). 

“Happy Anniversary sweet lady” You bite your lip as Shuri bit hers smiling and blushing. She began helping you out of your dress and you both collapsed onto the bed.  Shuri sat up straight on the headboard as you straddled her lap nuzzling your head into her neck, nothing but your panties on, as she absentmindedly massaged your back.

“Shuri”

“Hm”

“You’re beautiful. Everything about you.” You sit up looking into her eyes. “You never cease to amaze me, and I am so proud of you and how far you’ve come my love. How far we’ve come together. Today was beautiful. I couldn’t have dreamed of a proposal more perfect. You caught me completely off guard. I’m so thankful that I get to call you mine for the rest of our lives baby. You have my heart forever.” Shuri with tears in her eyes closed the distance kissing you with a slow passion. Gently, she laid you onto your back as the kiss became hungrier, hands roaming your body with intention. Every touch meant to cause pleasure. “I’m going to give you my all tonight.” Is all she said before she pulled away from you completely. She removed her harness and her suit jacket and you weren’t surprised to see there was nothing underneath. But all the same your core leaked with want and your mouth began to water. 

Shuri hovered over your body, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she lowered herself onto you maneuvering her head to settle into the crook of your neck. She inhaled deeply taking in your scent, slowly she began licking the area where your neck and jaw connect. She lapped at it like a cat three times before giving it a hard pulsing suck. Drawing out a long moan from your throat. She pulled back and stared deep into your eyes. You looked up at her; your juicy lips slightly ajar, want written all over your face. That’s when you witnessed it. Her usual deep dark brown irises, turned green. Pupils turning vertical,  like slits as her inner feline came out to play. You gasped. Heart rate increasing in excitement. This was new.

Suddenly, you hear a ‘KHOOOAAA’ sound and a cool sensation hitting your nipples. You gasp looking down to see Shuri applying whipped cream to your breast. You’d been so distracted by her eyes that you’d totally missed her reach for the can. “Baby w-what are you doing?” “Making a sundae.” she says with a wink as she placed down the cool whip and grabs the honey.  She takes the bowl of honey and the honey dipper from the tray. Using the honey dipper she placed honey over top of the whipped cream. And then with a sly smile made a trail all the way down your body. You looked at her as you bit down on your lip. “Baby I’m gonna be all sticky”

“Kulungile (it’s ok). I want to get sticky and wet tonight” She winked, and you let out a moan. 

“You like that huh, my dirty dirty girl” Shuri grabbed a half of a peach from the tray placing whipped cream and honey on top of it as well. 

“Shuri what are you doing?” She looked over at you and tsked twice. 

“Patience is a virtue my dear.” In seconds she’s back over top of you with the peach placed on your lips. “Open for me.” You opened your mouth like a good girl. As she places the peach inside. “Have a snack, while I have my meal” You bite into the peach as Shuri starts on your breast still holding the peach to your mouth. You moan looking down at her as she cleaned up the pretty mess she made all over your body. You take the peach from her hand so that she could concentrate on her meal. “Fuuck Shuri” you whisper. She looks up at you mouth messy with whipped cream and honey. Her cheeks sucked in as she gives your nipple a hard suck and releases it with a pop, getting rid of the last bit of cream. “Haaaa” you moan out. “That must be one delicious peach.” Smirking at her you take another messy bite of the peach. It’s juices running down your chin. Cream coating the corners of your mouth. Staring right into her hungry eyes you give each side of your mouth a lick. 

Shuri comes up only for a moment to suck the juice from your chin and bottom lip, before continuing her path down your body. Making it down to your lace panties she took them between her teeth and with a low growl she gave one hard yank pulling them from your body. Sitting up with your black lace panties trapped between her teeth, mouth shiny from honey and traces of whipped cream. She looked sexily rabbid and you wished you could take a picture and hang it on your bedroom wall. Turning her head to the side, not taking her eyes off of you, she opened her mouth allowing the panties to drop out of her mouth. You felt your slick pool out into the crack of your ass. 

“Mmm. Panther I need you please! Please fuck this pussy Queen Panther!” 

“As you wish.” Shuri immediately lowered herself to your pussy, spreading your lips apart, she used the tip of her tongue to lick directly through the center of your pussy. Her head tilted to the side eyes closed as she enjoyed your taste. Moving her head up and down she went from your clit to your hole, arms wrapped under your legs holding you wide open.  “Damnit! Eat that shit! Queen! More please More!”

She smirked in your pussy. Then she began to concentrate on your clit taking into her mouth giving it pulsating sucks before she started to suck and release. Building pressure at the tip of your clit. She released one of your legs placing her fingers at your entrance. “Kaninzi? (More)” Before you could answer her fingers entered you. Her other hand still wrapped around your thigh reached over to your pussy pushing back the skin above your clit giving her full access as she continued her pulsating sucks, while simultaneously massaging circles into the area above your clit, leaving no area of your pussy unsatisfied. “F-FUCK! W-what are you doing to me! W-what I-is Aaah.” 

Shuri nodded her head “Mhmm” You were thrashing as Shuri easily held your legs opened, one with her forearm as she pumped, her arm wrapped around the other. As the tip of your clit began to pulse. Shuri pulled back. “Whatever you feel sthandwa let it go for me. Soak my face”.  With that she placed her tongue underneath your clit and closed her mouth around it. She moved her tongue in and out of her mouth as she sucked. Your mouth fell open, but no sounds came out as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your body began to convulse and she then began to shake her head from side to side as a fountain of liquid poured from your womanhood.

————————————————————————

When you opened your eyes. You were confused. You were still in bed but had been cleaned up and placed under a new cozy comforter. You were facing Shuri’s side of the bed. But she wasn’t there. It didn’t take long  to figure out where she was once you felt a light breeze. Both doors to the balcony where open and Shuri sat on her knees infront of them. Just as you were about to get up to walk toward her, her voice echoed through the room

“Bast, I know I don’t talk to you as often as I should. But, I wanted to properly thank you. I was so lost when y/n came into my life. And I know I’ve been careless with her. That is unmistakable. I was young and confused. I wanted to feel anything. I don’t understand everything about what you did. However, I am eternally greatful for you sending her to soften the blow. For giving me a love that stands through any and everything.” Her voice caught in her throat as she choked back tears. As she stretched her arms to her sides. “With open arms, I promise to give her my all, every part of me, because I know she is my destiny.” She let go of a sob. “I finally know. I’m so glad. I thank you Bast for showing me the one, I am no longer searching, She’s so perfect, Bast. Please don’t take her from me. Please.” She ended in a whispering plea as she let the dam break. Covering your mouth as tears poured from your eyes. You let her have her moment with Bast.

————————————————————————

Present

It was 2:14 am, and you sat on the edge of the hotel bed next to your sleeping husband. You were crying for her. The memory taking a hold of your heart. Sliding down the side of the bed with your face buried in your hands. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and took it into the bathroom. Your palms were sweaty as you searched for a number. You found what you were looking for and your thumb hovered over the contact until you got a serge of bravery and hit the call button. The phone rang three times before you got an answer. 

Nakia: Y/n?

“Where can I find her?”

Taglist: @imjusthere2readbruv,@6-noir,@oceean,@sleepynggafr,@blacksapphhicmaddonna,@bbbbbbrilliantly

A/n: If you’re a fan of the Shame series you have more than likely realized that this is Part 6 to the series. If you’re not. Welcome. I hope you enjoyed! Part 7 will be out soon and it will be the FINAL CHAPTER!

[yinnina]

𝐈

After the ceremony was over, and after everyone found out that Yuu was powerless, everyone was led to their respective dorms by their housewarden.

"This will be your new home. You are to follow all the rules," he glared at us, and most of the first years, knowing that they didn't want trouble, decided to listen, "you are to be in your rooms by bedtime, if you decide to break any rule, it will be off with your head, am I clear?"

All the students nodded, and once he was away from our view, everyone started talking, "No way he is really that strict..."

I sighed, leaving them behind and entering my room. The room wasn't huge, but it was big enough for me to fit my stuff and decorate it to my liking, or at least as much as I could decorate with the rules still applying. As I set my stuff where they belonged, I remember the ceremony.

From Grim trying to burn us alive, to Yuu being magic-less, and yet he was still able to enter the academy. It surprised me that Yuu was allowed in, but somehow, he just was.

I sighed, there were also a few new faces. I learned that my housewarden was named Riddle, and by overheating a few other students, I quickly learned the names of other housewardens.

Octavinelle's was Azul, a guy who enjoys making contracts . Scarabia was known for having Kalim, a bright, young boy as their leader. Pomefiore's head was named Vil, and you could say that he was pretty strict with beauty rules. Ignihyde's housewarden was named Idia, and he wouldn't usually be seen in crowded areas, and would rather talk through an iPad. Diasomnia was led by a guy named Malleus, and by the looks of it, he was almost never invited to anything.

There was also this other dorm, Savanaclaw, which was led by a man named Leona. It surprised me when I heard that he was royal, and from the nearby kingdom called Sunset Savannah, which meant that he was part lion.

It didn't shock me in a bad way, it just made me raise an eyebrow, more or so because it was rare. I had seen a couple of people that were part animals, but it wasn't an everyday thing, especially since I was always either stuck inside the castle, which the people back home called The Temple Of Blood, or inside my room, studying on some sort of topic during free hours while in school.

I was done unpacking, which wasn't much other than the clothes I was given, placing my uniform for tomorrow in the front of my closet, etc. It wasn't until a little later that I saw the violin laying on the corner of my room.

'Weird. I didn't even notice it... Oh well, what can be done about that other than playing the instrument?'

And without hesitation, I picked up the four string instrument, placing my chin on the chin rest and holding the bow on my right hand. I quickly tuned the violin, making sure that it sounded right without any failure.

I didn't have any particular song in mind, and knowing that I was given the room that had the thickest walls since I was a girl, I decided to play Swan Lake, by Tchaikovsky. For someone to know how to play an instrument was extremely common in my home land, and you could hear the tone of music all around the streets, you could also see a teacher or a parent teaching a young child how to play an instrument.

Even in the heat of the lands, orchestra instruments were preserved in a special room provided by my family. If there was one thing that we completely believe should be valued, it is the music that one can play.

I had memorized the music, so it wasn't all that hard, but what surprised me was that the instrument looked and sounded rather new, so I guessed that it was really taken care of, or it truly was brand new.

After I was done, I made sure to untighten the bow, and place the instrument safely back into its case. I sat on my bed for a while, thinking of a way to pass time, but nothing other than walk around and explore came to my mind. "It's getting dark, but no one will know I was even out."

I walked around, and don't get me wrong, the place was pretty, but it was rather boring. I was alone the whole time, so there was no one I could talk to, and the only place I had left to explore was the botanical garden.

Upon entering the place, I noticed that the flowers held a strong scent, but pleasant for the nostrils. I looked around the place, and noticed that the whole garden was abandoned at the moment, and while I was walking around the area, I noticed that on the floor, or rather grass that was under a tree, there laid a chessboard.

The pieces were placed on the correct order where they belonged, but one single piece was moved. The white pawn in E-Two was moved to E-four, and since I noticed that no one had played against them, I moved my black pawn from E-Seven to E-five.

I didn't do anything afterwards, not like I could when the other player hasn't moved, and decided to leave it at that. I returned back to the dorm before supper, and I did notice that most of my dorm mates had left already, only very few staying behind to chat.

I was no different from the ones that left, and once I entered the cafeteria, I noticed the small wave that Yuu gave me. I approached both him and Grim, greeting them as the small animal rambled on about his complaint. It surprised me that he was still here, but then again, the headmage looked like he would let anyone in.

"[Y/N]! Can you believe it? They ran out of sweets! The only reason I'm here is completely gone! Gone into the stomachs of other pests!"

My sweat dropped, "Pests? Sure... Anyways, how is it going so far?"

Yuu sighed, "The dorm looks like it is about to fall off, and somehow he was allowed in the academy."

"I can tell," I chuckled, "I'm surprised that he was even given his own little bow tie."

But Grim didn't listen to a word I had said, he was too focused on the situation with the sweets. Yuu, on the other hand, informed me about the current dorm they were staying in, Ramshackle dorm, and how it is hunted by ghosts and now have to renovate it all by themselves.

"Don't sweat it. I'll probably come by someday and help you," I gave him a closed-eye smile, and Yuu instantly brightened up at the thought, "but of course, I'll need something in return."

"I got my hopes up for nothing," he sulked. "I need—"

"Are you even listening?! My poor babies are gone!" Grim interrupted me, crying about the desert he wanted. I sighed and whispered in a low, sweet voice, "I'll tell you later."

I got up from my seat, approaching the stand that sold food, but was soon pushed out of the way by a boy. "Running late!" He screamed, and I was a little startled.

The boy had dark roots that faced into blonde, wore black leather jacket on top of an oversized shirt, jeans and some boots. I couldn't really see what was wrapped around his neck, but I could tell it was an orange tone yellow, and he also had animal ears on top of his head.

I clearly was in a rush to get somewhere, and he looked to be carrying some types, probably food. I didn't try to run after him, it wasn't my business what he did.

I sighed in frustration and made my way to the cafe to buy something. "Anything I could help you with?" Asked a boy with glasses, the same guy I saw at the ceremony.

"Anything that has lots of sugar, I'm kind of in need to shut someone up."

He nodded, quickly grabbing a cup of tea, "It is the best we have, sorry. It always is busy, so items run out fast when you aren't here early, especially on ceremonies or special events."

I rubbed my temples, thanking him as I took the cup away from his hand. After I was done paying for the drink, I immediately took it back to the cat-like mage, placing it in front of him. "What am I supposed to do with this?!"

"Drink it and shut up," I offered him a closed eye smile, which shut him up right away. He started drinking, sulking while me and Yuu went back to talking. He soon told me that he would head back to the dorm to try and get some sleep before his first class.

"We won't see each other. I already have my schedule assigned, and considering I'm a third year, we clearly won't have any classes together unless they're extra curricula."

"Huh?! What are your classes? Maybe we do have some together!"

"It's really tight... I have homeroom in classroom 3-A. Humanities come for the first period, and it alternates between History of Magic and Animal Languages. Science also alternates between alchemy, astrology, biology and magical potions."

"Wow-that really is a tight schedule..."

I sighed, "that's not even third period yet. Next I have mathematics, which I decided to take advanced calculus and advanced statistics. Then magic will transition to practical magic, magic analysis, ancient curses, conjuration and defense magic. I also have physical education, flying and swimming, but then again, everyone has it. Oh! I also took an extra classes!"

"Really? Which one?"

"Music! I'm glad there was an option for that one," I smiled brightly, and Yuu chuckled at my face.

"I have the same classes as you, but it's less packed, and I have a different type of math class. But I will probably see you around, in between classes."

"Did you and Grim get classes together?"

Yuu sighed in frustration, "All of them."

I laughed as my sweat dropped. This poor kid was really about to go through a rough year. "I'm sure we could meet up during free time. I say we could always meet in the botanical garden in case of any emergency."

Yuu nodded, telling Grim, who was still mad at the incident with the sweets, that they should start heading back to their corresponding dorm and maybe sleep. Grim tried telling him off by saying that he was starving, but Yuu didn't listen and dragged him away.

I just stood there, waving at them and watching them walk away. I sighed and passed my hand through my hair as I stood from my seat, walking towards the botanical garden, back to the same spot that I found the chessboard in.

Nothing had changed, and I didn't know what exactly I had expected, for a piece to magically move? I couldn't really tell, all I knew is that I expected something more than that.

I let out a small yawn, signifying that it was now my cue to leave the place, and probably just relax on my bed until I fell asleep. I approached the dormitory, hearing whispers from a few boys, but due to how tired I was, I didn't pay any attention to them, only caring about finally closing my eyes at peace.

I entered my room and locked the door as I changed onto my pajamas, which I chose randomly due to the fact that I was on the verge of falling asleep on the cold floor, only holding back because that blanket really looked warm and fuzzy.

I turned off all the lights in my room and calmly walked to the bed, drifting to sleep as my eyelids closed heavily.

'Maybe I over-did it today.'

[warmerthanhotcoco]

221B, Baker Street.

Dumbledore in his 20s, a bit of a celebrity, a lot of eccentricity. Gellert Grindelwald has disappeared and the press chases after him so he hides away in a house: a magically hidden one, quite like Grimmauld Place (referred to as Black Manor). Except it’s a crazy address that he made up for fun.

You, as his dearest friend and not-so-secret admirer, are called when he wants a chat and a hug. So you go. Revelations, confessions… it’s a sweet evening.

Tags: young!Dumbledore x reader, gender-neutral reader, post-Grindelwald's betrayal, comfort fluff, a very British evening tea date, a sign from above, Confessions, and kisses, Hufflepuff reader, Gryffindor/Hufflepuff

A/N: To my beautiful sister, who makes me feel loved on a daily basis. And who taught me it was okay to crush on a man who was 100+ in the original movies, if it was on his younger version~ (Coz Jude Law is *chef's kiss*) Have an ice cone, Cindy 🍦xx

221B, Baker Street. 

The house that was but a legend to almost everybody worldwide. Everybody except you and its current resident, that is. 

Though you seriously doubted whether there even was such a house previously, and whether it had any residents prior to this eccentric young man… you had to find out for yourself. 

Surely, he can’t be pulling me into some ridiculous hoax… you chided yourself for giving in, before tapping the note again. “Lumos.” 

It was dark in this particular cubicle. Lucky for you, the Ministry wouldn’t be too happy to hear their excellent Auror was reading letters from notorious Albus godforsaken Dumbledore.

The note read, 

Sunny,

Guess who this is! 

Are you free enough to drop by for a visit? I would appreciate it, given the circumstances. House is charmed, they won’t know. 

221b, Baker Street. 

No, I am not kidding. Somewhere near Royal Albert Hall.

See you tomorrow x

“Protection from the Ministry, good,” you mumbled, fingering the letter. “Tomorrow, huh…” 

You knew the “circumstances” well enough. Gellert Grindelwald, the moron who clung to your best friend since pre-teens, had disappeared. It was all over the Prophet, the man was a nuisance to the Ministry: they both were. With one gone missing, they began chasing after the other for clues and conspiracies, until he too vanished. 

To the others. You’d gotten an old barn owl the morning of the news claiming he was safe and he’d contact you soon. And so, he did.

Bet he sees now who the real friend was all along, you harrumphed as you tucked the letter in your inner robes and Apparated out the Ministry. Good thing they had handed over a mission to you just an hour ago, you could leave on that excuse.

Missions can wait. Tomorrow can go to hell. Albus needed you. So there you stood before the Royal Albert Hall, hands in your pockets, staring in awe at its glamour. Images of a date from long long ago flashed across your reminiscing mind.

A bright summer… fifteen-year-old you… sixteen-year-old Albus… a soothing orchestra concert… a late night kiss near the ice cream stand outside…

An envious Gellert Obliviating and apparating him away right after…

Your smile faded as fast as it came, your head turned away from the grandiose venue. The smile grew again upon seeing the ice cream stall standing there as lively as before. Curious, it hadn’t been there before, every other night you’d come here seeking comfort… A sign from Nature, you told yourself. Today might be a good day to see him after all. 

So you moved away from the crowded steps of the Hall and bought two ice cones, muttering under your breath with closed eyes, “221b, Baker Street. 221b, Baker Street.” 

And there it was. You opened your eyes to a tall house down the road, not too far from the hall itself, a little board on its door reading “221b, Baker Street.” You shook your head with a laugh, delighted nobody else was seeing it somehow. You rushed up to the doorstep and waved your wand at the charm on the lock. Of course, Dumbledore’s unique protection ward unlocked itself for you. 

As always.

The door creaked open, and you hurried in, mouth agape at the dust. “Honestly Al, don’t you know to look after the place you live in?” 

“Sunny! Oh, darling, thank goodness you’re here,” a tired but jovial voice chirped from the stairs. You heard Dumbledore stumble down and almost fall onto you, before you twirled away. 

“Nah-uh, no hugs, not with ice cream in my hands.” 

“Oh my!” he exclaimed happily, picking his glimmering self up and snatching one of the cones. Glimmering, because his hair was slick from the shower, and his shirt and pants were pristine orange. Brighter than those new colourful automobiles. 

“I guess you don’t need to pull the curtains for the sun anyway,” you laughed as he lapped at it oh so childishly. “You’re a walking torch yourself.” 

“Right? I love this look!” 

“Meh.”

“Come now, darling, it is lovely.”

“What’s with the darling-ing today?” you bit your cheek to dismiss the blush. 

“I believe you like it.” 

“…” Sure you did but since when did he know? He hasn’t called you darling since the night you— “Hey, Al, what’s with the place? Fake address… for fun, I know you well.”

“Mhm, you do. It seemed fun to indulge a bit.”

“…whatever. But the location?”

“Why here, you mean?” Albus waved out a greasy window to the busy lane. “Hm, memories. Don’t you like it?”

He was smiling, that all-knowing, smug smile with the twinkle in his eye. So you didn’t bother answering. Somehow… Somehow… he found out. Or rather, remembered.

But this was no time to talk about teenage first-dates. “I’m glad you called but is everything alright?”

“Better question,” Dumbledore sighed as he downed the last of the ice cone and beckoned you to the kitchen. “Why did I find you on my doorstep seconds after the owl got back?”

“I— I did not—“

“You did, I only sent the old fellow seven minutes ago.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t hear from my closest friend, a crackhead Gryffindor who’s boyfriend just ran away, for two weeks, and you expect me not be worried sick? Of course I ran here immediately!”

“Right, my bad, took a while to set the place up properly.” He shook his head sadly. “Alas, I am unaware of who this so-called boyfriend is.”

“Ruddy Grindelwald is who,” you shook your head to mock him. “What happened?”

“…Well,” Albus took a deep breath. “He had enough of me. Who’d have thought our opposing views of the world would go…this far.”

“Who indeed,” you shook your head again.

“Hey,” Albus tapped your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For not listening to you. I didn’t realise he had me controlled until he moved away and whatever bond there was…shattered.”

“Bond?” you asked, sitting beside him at the teak dinner table.

“Bond. We used the magic of Trust, and formed a contract-like bond where neither could dare betray the other, which is still there…” he sighed. “But at least the control he had over my mind is gone…”

“The rest of your mind, that is,” you scoffed.

“…yes. Anyhow, I happened to recall some things I had kept aside for later. Like that night long ago, somewhere up this very lane?”

You gasped, a tad too audibly so you cleared your throat and averted your gaze. “Uhuh? What was it?”

He sensed your avoidance and decided to play along, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, that night, I took a beautiful person to a concert at the RA Hall. And the music was lovely, but so was my date so I might have stared more at the angel beside me than the performers. And then you dragged me off to an ice cream stand; and you know, the stand’s back in town. That old lady passed away, her son runs it now.”

“Me? H—How would I know?”

“Because I remember the face I stared at all night too well to forget by Gellert’s weak Obliviating Charm.”

“…How?”

He chuckled softly, and you looked down at the teacup that appeared before you. Of course, this was one of the most powerful wizards of his age, perhaps he had protected himself against the Obliviate back then.

Eleven years. And he didn’t spill a word… probably for your sake, should Gellert find out and attack. But eleven years of loneliness…

“We also kissed that night.” A casual statement, deceivingly blasé.

“Did we?” you gulped.

“Mhm,” he hummed over the tea.

Oh, the urge bubbling in you to say—

“We could do that again.”

After eleven years, he beat you to it. Again. “Gryffindor beats Hufflepuff,” you dramatically heaved a sigh: that made him laugh merrily, the gloom on his face disappearing.

“Gryffindor wins!” he raised his teacup. “Say, now I get to call you darling, don’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose you do,” you smiled. “Though I’d still prefer Sunny.” The nickname he coined long ago when he first met you, saying it described you perfectly.

“Of course, it’s our special thing,”he winked. “Sunny darling…” he smiled at the way you burst into laughter. “May I kiss you?” 

“For the sake of old memories?”

“Quite the contrary. For the sake of new ones,” he turned to face you, one hand tucking stray hairs behind your ear, the other cupping your cheek.

You remembered how he responded back then when you asked to go out together. “An offer worth considering,” you laughed.

And so did he, before kissing you lightly. “Consider fast then, Gryffindors lack patience.”

“Clearly.” You shut your eyes, revelling in his arms wrapped around you, relishing the softness of the moment, giggling at the light stubble you felt now, that wasn’t there before.

Times change… you thought as his now sturdier arms hugged you close. Hearts don’t.

[ginandoldlace]

 Liverpool is hosting the spectacular Naming Ceremony for Cunard’s newest ship, Queen Anne.

There will be musically maritime street theatre and choir performances on Liverpool’s Pier Head starting at 2.30pm.

Much-loved TV stars Emma and Matt Willis will host the special naming ceremony, which starts at 4pm. A bottle of Champagne is customarily smashed against the 249th ship to bear the Cunard name, and an amazing lineup of Liverpool’s best talent, including the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and performers from the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts, will take the stage along with special guests and the official godparent for Queen Anne’s naming. Operatic sensation Andrea Bocelli will perform as the event comes to an end.

Further performances by the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts, DJ Lauren Lo Sung, and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra will then round off the festivities. Craig Charles will then play a vibrant funk and soul set to keep the party going till the fireworks finale, when Queen Anne leaves.

[aliypop]

That's Alright For Such a Night (Rewrite Chapter 8)

Word Count: 3,038

Writers Note: So far I'm enjoying rewriting this, and Now I'm adding and Rewriting my fanfic series Anyway you do into it to really solidify the timeline.

Warning: mostly fluff / Historic Language and Values

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: During the Louisiana Hayride two breakout stars meet in a rush only to learn they've dealt their cards in the hands of fate.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Nashville, Tennessee, October 1959

Cecelia ran upstairs to her old room, plunging herself into her mattress. Cecelia was heartbroken by what her mother was implying.

"I'll talk to her," Midge smiled,

"You sure?"

"Yeah." 

 The remaining posters of Frank Sinatra on her walls, the signed Dean Martin one from New York, and her Elvis Record Collection were all she wanted to be surrounded by,

 "Cece, can I come in?" Midge asked as Cecelia grumbled, the song Heartbreak Hotel fading out into the distance. 

"Oh my God, we're not doing this again, are you?" She heard her rewind the record. The last time this happened was the night at Russwood, and before that, on one of their tours, he had brought another girl into his hotel room.

"Well, since my Elvis left me... BRAWM BRAWM!" Cecelia sang,

 "I have nowhere to dwell, BRAWM BRAWM!" Cecelia shouted into her pillow, "It's right at the end of Lonely Street and-" Midge walked in as she saw Cecelia with her guitar, sobbing lyrics like a madman. 

"You're obsessed with him..." Midge laughed. 

"I'm not obsessed. I'm in love with him, Midge." she sighed, "My heart aches when he's away, and I." Cecelia began to get frustrated trying to find the words. 

It had been a while since Midge was in her twenties and in love, 

"I never met anyone like him."

"Cece, you've met plenty of men like him, "

"No, I haven't. The actors and heartthrobs aren't the same. When I'm with Elvis, I feel at home." she smiled, "It feels like home Like I can do anything with him." She smiled, " Last year, I was having dinner with his family, and we just sat there and had a conversation with just our facial expressions until his mother told us to stop." She giggled, thinking about it as Midge listened. 

"What else, kid?" 

"We talked one time for so long when we said good night, it was morning," 

"So why are you so down then?"

"I know he and I could never be married," she sighed, "Face it, the world would eat us up alive. You wouldn't get it, Midge." 

"Oh, sure, the woman who got married in San Fran to her wife doesn't understand." 

"I owe Richard 10 bucks."

"You two had a bet..."

"Not the point, Midge. "

"Well, if you love him all that much, tell him," Midge smiled, "Tell him he gives you fever like Peggy Lee once said."

"He definitely gives me fever." she bit her lip as Midge laughed, "When he dances, it's like boom, I'm pregnant, Midge, really I am." Midge laughed as Cecelia laughed along. 

"Look, If I weren't in my thirties and married to Cheryl, who I love, One night with him would be all I'd be praying for" Cecelia hit her with a pillow.

"WHY YOU LITTLE!" Midge threw a pillow back at her as Cecelia fell over. The two kept going back and forth like siblings until she realized what Cecelia was doing. 

"Now, why do you really think you two couldn't be together and don't avoid it this time?"

Cecelia took a deep breath, looking at the picture on her dresser,

"I should uh get going. I have a flight soon."

"Cece."

"Because of our skin," Cecelia sighed. Midge knew what she meant, but she also knew something else,

"If that bothered Elvis, he'd never have given you the time of day as his girlfriend." she held her hand, "So own, be proud and honestly... To hell with your mother's thoughts." 

January 7th 1960

Dear Cecelia,

I hope you like the fur coat I sent you. I know it's not much of a birthday gift, but I wanted to give my best girl something. I hope it matches the earrings I got you from France for Christmas.

 I know it's been hard trying to keep up with dates by a piece of paper, but they're saying pretty soon I'll be back, and I can take you on as many dates as I owe you. 

I also forgot to mention I heard your Christmas record. You sang the hell out of Blue Christmas. It made me wonder, were you thinking of me? 

January 8th 1960

My Dearest, Elvis 

By the time you've read this, it should be your birthday. I did enjoy the coat. It was perfect, though you didn't need to get me anything. Hearing from you is always enough. But! I hope you received the new guitar I got you. I know it's not much, but it's custom-made. 

A few friends of yours told me what to get you. 

And yes, to answer your question, I was thinking about you. I always am. My mother the other day was thinking of you, too. But that doesn't matter. I want to tell you everything whenever you return if you ever return.

          With love,

                         Cecelia S Valmos

Graceland March 7th 1960

"Vernon, Why'd you call us here?" Denise asked as Midge looked at the fleet of fans at the gate. Would Denise willingly let Cecelia endure that every day? 

"I got word in that. Elv-" Cecelia walked by, straightening things up, 

"We only have 15 days until he arrives!" Cecelia smirked. Denise then rolled her eyes at her daughter, 

" As you were saying, Vernon?" 

"Elvi-" 

"Midge, could you help me pick out what I'll wear when he returns? I want it to be special!" Midge nodded, 

"The dress you have on now is fine, Cece." Midge chuckled, watching her run around.

"The pencil skirt suit is perfect."Cecelia shrugged,

"It's not about what's on the dress. It's about what's under it." Midge smirked, "Think about that."

"I was saying E-"

 Cecelia gasped, seeing the limo outside. She wondered if it was a guest that no one told her about or if was it some big shot again coming to bother her. Peaking from the door, she saw the top half of a uniform. As she ran out the door shouting,

 "ELVIS IS BACK!!!"

"Cecelia Shanel Valmos, calm down!"

"I was trying to tell you," Vernon smirked,

"Hey, baby." he smiled as he kissed her forehead. Cecelia was still attached to him, 

"Hiya honey." she looked up at him, backing away and saluting him, "Sergeant Presley," He then looked at her outfit as he bit his bottom lip. Her eyes were burning with a lusty look that he couldn't ignore. His leather gloves were still on his hands, and Cecelia was thinking how many push-ups, could he do on top of her.

"What'cha lookin at, doll?"

"Mhmm, me nothing." she took him by the tie and guided him into the house,

"No, hello for me."

"Tom." Denise spat out. Her heels clicked back into the house.

Elvis picked Cecelia up bridal style as he kissed her nose, "I got so many stories to share." they said in unison, laughing. 

Sitting at the dinner table, Cecelia sat next to Elvis as he talked about his stories in the military, some she had heard about during his arrival interview. 

"So there was this girl..." and the empty pit of her stomach dropped again. Cecelia was already feeling nauseous as he started the sentence. Midge could tell, and so could Denise, who didn't want to say I told you so just yet, 

"She was a pretty thing, funny too; her father was in the Air Force, and she'd give me advice on this beautiful woman back home," he smirked as Cecelia nodded. 

"What is this woman like?" Denise asked,

"Yeah, what's she like," Vernon asked, looking over at Cecelia, who appeared to get sicker by the second. 

"Oh, she's a beautiful woman, got a smile that makes the sunshine seem dim." he laughed, "And when she sings." 

"I'm feeling a bit tired. I think I'll rest for the evening." Cecelia said, trying not to cry. Standing up, she went outside to sit under a tree. It was brisk, but she'd manage. For once, she thought she'd find someone who wouldn't have left or replaced her. But here she was again, alone and in her own head. 

"Well, don't just stand there, Mr. Presley, go after her!" Denise said in a demanding tone. Elvis ran after her as Midge laughed, "I feel like I'm watching one of his movies with Cece." she joked as the tension of suspense between the two parents was thick. 

"Cecelia, there you are!" Elvis smiled, sitting next to her. Cecelia, however, wouldn't look at him, 

"Cece... If I did something or..."

"Did our letters mean anything..."

"Doll..."

"Did they mean anything!" she looked at him, her eyes glassy with tears, "Maybe my mother was right..." she laughed, "Right about what..." 

"You would hurt me... just like he did." 

"Like who? Cece, you're scaring me." 

"My father." she sighed, the hole in her heart opened wide as she said it. 

"Sometimes, I can still see him leaving from the doorstep."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

Raleigh, North Carolina, June 10th 1941

"Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight?"

Fireflies flew around the porch of a white one leveled house. Sitting on the porch swing was a six-year-old brown-skinned girl. She'd been out there for what was almost a week. Tears streaming down her face as she held onto her Mickey Mouse stuffed animal. It was always her favorite because he gave her that toy.  

 "You've gotta eat something pumpkin." her mother said, sitting next to her.

"I want him to come back." The little girl had tears in her eyes. 

"I'm afraid he's not going to." She noticed her mother's wedding ring was gone from her finger. 

It had been two weeks now. Another night of her crying, he had stopped writing her letters and giving her empty promises he couldn't keep. "

We'll be okay..." she smiled, "I'll fix it... We'll move to somewhere nice, and I'll record again. "You'll never have to hurt again. I promise"

"I want daddy back..." she cried harder, "I want him back now!"

"CECELIA HE'S NOT COMING BACK!" Denise shouted as her daughter cried harder, "HE'S GONE, HE LEFT, HE DOESN'T LOVE US ANYMORE!"

Does your memory stray to a bright summer day

When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?

All he had left to show for it was his White Falcon guitar that she cherished ever so much.

Graceland March 7th 1960

" I don't want to be that little girl again crying endlessly, waiting for you to come back, and then you don't." she sighed, "So tell me if you love me or another," Elvis then looked at her, his finger under her chin as he pulled her face closer to him,

 "Well, doll, if you hadn't run out, I was gonna..." Looking into his pockets, he tried to feel around for a box,

 "Well... you were gonna what..." he kept looking for the box,

 "God damn it... Shit, I think I lost it..." he groaned, 

"You lost what..."

"Hey, what's this little box doing in the chair!" Midgie said, picking it up as Denise took it from her and opened it,

 "Vernon, it's a ring." 

"A ring?" 

"A ring!"

"Shit, everyone scatter and and find him!" Midge shouted

"Darlin, I was gonna ask you something." he smiled, taking her hand, "I guess I can still ask it, but uh, I-I have never been so sure and so damn nervous about something." he took a deep breath. 

"Spit it out!" Cecelia laughed, looking into his eyes. 

"Darlin, I want you in my life forever. And-"

" I FOUND THEM. CECELIA SAYS YES!!!" Denise shouted

"Mother, what are you on about..." Cecelia stood up as her attention turned to face everyone at the doorstep. Standing there on bended knee was,

 "Elvis, are you?" Midge ran as she handed him the ring,

"I'm tryin to." he laughed as she nearly tackled him and kissed him, 

"Is that a yes?"

"Does Little Richard wear eyeliner." she joked as he picked her up. 

"She said yes!" 

"I've got to tell The Colonel..." 

"I'd keep that secret to him." Denise smiled, "I'd keep the wedding a secret; It'd be safe for you both." she mentioned as Cecelia nodded, 

"We'll try to keep it a secret,"

"Cecelia..." Denise glanced at her daughter.

"Don't worry, we got this," Cecelia said as she kissed Elvis.

Fontainebleau Hotel Florida March 26th, 1960

"Remember Cecelia, smile." Cecelia nodded, walking down in a black low-cut sweetheart gown with Dior gloves. Cecelia's hair slicked back into a bun full of pin curls.

"You look so beautiful, Cece." Midge smiled, "Thanks, I'm nervous, singing a jazz song on a show I only know a little about..." her eyes averted to Elvis as he walked by in his suit,

 "Hey, Mama, you're..." looking at her dress, he couldn't help but stare at her beauty, "

Your hands are shakin honey." She ran to his side to hold them,

"I'm a little nervous, darlin," Elvis said as she kissed his hands, 

"You'll be fine. I know it's been two years, but if you get nervous, know I'm rootin' you on." 

"Ms. Valmos, you're on." Cecelia nodded, almost forgetting that was still her last name to the public, "

Wish me luck." Cecelia was hired as a last-minute solution to the show, but the people of Miami still seemed to love her,  

"So you didn't tell her whose show it was," Midge smirked, 

"Nope, I wanted it to be a surprise," Denise smiled, 

"I never thought I'd hear her sing jazz..." Midge laughed,

"It's in her blood." Denise watched. On the other side of the stage was The Colonel and Elvis, who had the most love-sick grin on his face. It was as if he was watching her perform for the first time. He was. It was like Elvis had those same butterflies from The Hayride all over again, but when he was looking at Cecelia, he felt alright again. When she finished performing, she passed him as he looked her way.

"Focus, you and Sinatra go on next," Tom whispered,

Cecelia turned to see Frank Sinatra walk past her, her heart nearly fluttering. Denise could see the whole interaction happening on the other side of the stage as she chuckled, 

Cecelia was in a dream. She had to be to witness both Elvis and Frank on a stage singing. Never in her 26 years of being alive would she have thought to see this happen.

 When filming wrapped, Elvis walked over to Denise, who was looking at Cecelia, who was looking at Frank Sinatra. "Anyone seen Cece?" he asked, hands still shaky. 

"Swooning over swoonatra." Midge laughed, 

"I see." he sighed. Playfully as Denise heard the jealous tone in his voice,

 "Ah...ah... Green is not your color, dear." She smirked, "Think of it as a schoolgirl crush. After all, she's married to you." Denise mentioned, 

"If you really wanna woo her, introduce her to him. He's like her childhood crush." Midge suggested, "Think of it as a gift." 

" I doubt I'm gonna like what happens next." Elvis walked over to Cecelia as he pulled her close to him, "Hey, doll."

"Hey, honeypie." Cecelia smiled, "You were amazing up there."

"Me...Please now you, you were breathtaking." he smiled, "But speakin' of that... How'd you like to meet Mr. Blue Eyes himself." 

"El, you wouldn't... " she gasped, "He's like my childhood crush!" she grinned, 

"Presley!" Frank Sinatra smiled, waving him over, "Welcome back once again."

"Thank you, sir. Uh, have you met Cecelia Valmos?" 

" Denise's little girl!" Frank Sinatra smiled, "You've grown up to be a beautiful young lady." he winked as Cecelia turned bright red, "Gosh, I remember when you were just a little baby and your mother would have you nap in my dressin room, now look at you!

"Th-Thank you." Cecelia stammered as she stood next to Elvis.

"You know, if you two aren't together, then you should be. You two make quite a couple, after all." He winked, and Frank took her hand as he kissed it, "Ms. Valmos, Presley." Cecelia froze as Elvis and Frank laughed, 

"I still got it, Denise. Thanks again for the favor." 

"Are we that obvious?" Elvis asked as Cecelia looked at him,

"Well... there were those instances back in the '50s." she laughed, giving him a quick peck.

"I guess you're right Mrs. Presley."

"I guess I am, Mr. Presley." 

Nashville, Tennessee, April, 1960

The sweet sounds of the violin came from the recording studio as Cecelia played,

 "Rock N Roll and Violin?" Midge said from the other side of the booth, 

"It's for a movie, Midge." She took a deep breath, "Movies, you're doing movies again..." Midge chuckled, 

"Yes, I'm working on a soundtrack first, but it's a romance about a showgirl, who falls in love with this lounge singer... and he's from a dangerous crime family and-"

"Elvis is the love interest..." Midge playfully asked,

"If I can pitch it to a studio, and they take interest." she smiled, 

"Honey, it's 1960..."

"Exactly, times are changing." Cecelia smiled, "And besides, I'm tired of hiding that I'm with my babydoll..." she grumbled, "

" I want the world to know Midge."

"The world to know what Darlin." Elvis walked into the recording booth. 

"That I'm in love with you, and I'm your wife." She kissed him. Elvis kissed her back as he held her close to him.

 "What brings you by Mr. Presley." 

"Hello to you too, Midge." he laughed, 

"Well, I have news."

"Tell me." 

"I'm filming another movie in Hollywood," he smiled as Midge laughed,

 "Oh God, this is great. I can finally stop watching King Creole!" 

"Don't mind her El," Cecelia smiled,

"Well, I won't, but I was wondering if you'd come to Hollywood with me. I know you've been workin on something, and maybe this could be your chance." He smiled at her.

"How did you know?"

"You left the script on the table, and I read it, well, I couldn't put it down really." he chuckled, 

"Oh, El..." she blushed hard, 

"It's true, I think you've got somethin good, and I wanna support your dream the best I can."

"You already are by being my husband."

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

MORE IN CHAPTER 9