#cleaning fairy mozart

[alby-rei]

A Quarter Rest (Mozart x Reader)

a/n: Music historians look to Mozart for inspiring confidence in his work, no matter what musical genre he tackled. So it may come as a suprise to you to find out that he is more prone to burnout than the history books would have you believe. A story in which MC tries to convince Mozart that even prodigies need a break sometimes. 

[Characters]: You, Mozart

[Word count]: ~1000 words

[Tags]: pre-relationship, comfort, creative burnout, humor, suitor habits

~*~

It was a peaceful day at the mansion. Everyone was out and about on their errands or at work. All except for one. You walked to Mozart’s room to deliver his Rouge, following the sound of his playing, though it wasn’t going smoothly. The same melody repeated over and over again, faster, and more frustrated each time. A few experimental riffs here and there, followed by low muttering and paper crumbling. You slowly slid the door open.

You frowned at the sight of him sitting hunched over the piano keys, hands tangled in his hair, and a scattered pile of crumbled papers beneath his bench. His face was riddled with clear signs of distress. Several days of unrest were evident in his sunken eyes and forming dark circles—not a pretty portrait for the resident musical prodigy.

“Looks like somebody needs his Rouge break,” you said. 

Mozart took a deep breath, sitting upright as he rubbed his face with his hands to release the tension across his features. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Too many noises and too many nuisances in this mansion that I can’t focus on my composition.”

“Nobody’s home today though. Are you sure it’s them that’s bothering you?”

He looked down dejectedly at his hands. “Maybe this is it. I’ve peaked.” He clenched his fists. 

“Sounds to me like you’re burnt out, my dude,” you replied. “You haven’t slept properly for days, and no amount of caffeine or Rouge can ever replace proper rest.”

“The concert is a week from now,” he sighed. “And I still haven’t prepared an opening score.”

He groaned in agony over his dilemma, hiding his face in his hands once more. Even prodigies have their off days, but this was the first time you’d seen it in-person—and from Mozart of all people. 

“Sometimes we lose sight of our goal when our own doubts obscure our vision.”

‘A distraction is in order,’ you thought. ‘If only I knew more about him. Does this guy even have any hobbies?’

You placed the tray on a nearby desk, sweeping the crumbled papers away from Mozart’s bench and around his piano. Then, you scooted next to him on his tiny piano bench, pushing against him to make room for yourself. In return, he sent you a sideways questioning glance.

“You know this bench isn’t made to fit two people, right?”

“I know.” You smiled.

“I’m practically falling off the edge here.”

“I know.” You smiled wider. “Anyways, why don’t we take a break and go on a walk or something?”

“Couldn’t you have said that while you were standing? Besides, I can’t. I have to get this done now or else it’ll never be finished. And that would bother me for the rest of the day.” He pushed back against you with a huff, prompting you to stand again with crossed arms.

“Weren’t you the one who composed an overture from scratch the day before the opening performance?” You nudged him back.

“Don’t remind me,” he winced at the memory. But, beneath the hand that rubbed his temple was a fond smile.

“Started at midnight, actually,” he admitted. “And the only things that kept me going were coffee and…” His smile wavered.

“And?”

“…and Constanze, reciting all sorts of tales to keep me awake."  

“Your former wife, is that right?” You tilted your head curiously.

“The one and only.” He turned to properly face you for the first time since you entered the room. “She was a lot like you in that regard. Always there when I needed support.”

Your eyes widened from a sudden bashfulness that overcame you. His smile returned to his handsome face.

“Well, she clearly saw that you were up to the challenge!” You nudged him.

You also handed him the Rouge he had requested, which would keep him occupied, if only for a second, while you composed yourself and thought of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“So, what drives you to work hard every day, composing new music, day in and day out?” you asked.

“It’s my life’s work. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known since I was a child,” he said as he returned the empty decanter to you.

“Hmm, let me rephrase, then.” You returned the decanter to its tray. “If the composer’s life hadn’t chosen you, what would you have done instead?”

He shrugged, “Nothing else would’ve suited me the way that composing does.”

You hummed as you looked around. He sure kept his music room bare of any decorations or memorabilia, same goes for his room.  

“You know, you’re pretty good at keeping this place clean, huh?”

“MC, are you trying to suggest I become a maid, instead?”

“Well, funny you say that because,” you offered your hand, “I’ve got a lounge in need of cleaning, want to help out?”

He stared at your hand. “Is this your way of avoiding your own work?”

“…Maybe.” You couldn’t deny that having him aboard would save you half of the effort, or so you thought. “Think of it this way: You get some time away from composing, as you’re clearly burnt out at the moment, and I get some quality time with you. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me.”

“Oh, come on! I’ve even got chocolates prepared in the kitchen. You’ll get first pick.”

Mozart stared back at the black and white keys of the piano, as if searching for an answer in their reflection. With a resolute huff, he stood up.

“Fine, let’s go.” He grinned confidently. “Should be easy enough.”

You spent the rest of the day cleaning the lounge—though you weren’t expecting it to take the entire day—including every book in every shelf, all the glassware, and every inch of the floor until you were slipping and sliding on your way out. 

Today, Mozart wasn’t the aloof musical prodigy that denied shaking your hand on day one. Today, he was a cleaning fairy, and a meticulous one at that.

~*~

A token from history: (1787) The night before the premiere of Don Giovanni, Mozart stayed up around 3 hours composing the overture of the opera (aka: the opening score) after one of his drinking friends pointed out that it was missing. Constanze, his wife, told him stories of Aladdin’s lamp, Cinderella and so on, to keep him awake.

#ikevamp mozart #ikemen vampire mozart #mozart x reader #mozart x mc #mozart x you #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire #alby one-shots #cleaning fairy mozart

[yukina-otome]

Ikevamp pregnancy and family headcanon pt.1

So I don’t usually write headcanons. English is only my 3rd language so I make a lot of mistakes. But these days I work at the Maternity hospital and I got those baby vibes so I decided to write this. Please be nice to me. I’m a noob at writing lol. I will illustrate what I think the children would look like with pictures of characters that are NOT MINE. Pls be understanding. If you want a part 2 tell me what other boys you would like in the comments and live me a little encouragement because I have 0 confidence lol.

Part 2 | Part 3

1-Napoleon : 2 sons and 1 daughter 

-Napoleon always dreamed of a normal peaceful life -That peaceful life of course included you, and kids that would look like you running around. -And so when you first got pregnant Napoleon was beyond happy. -He wanted a little girl that would look exactly like you. -9 months later you gave him the cutest little boy with his dark hair and Turquoise eyes. -The second he laid his eyes on him he adored him. -5 years later napoleon asked if you were ready to have another one. A little girl this time hopefully. -And BOOM 10 months later a little boy was born again with dark slightly blue hair and blue eyes. -Still Napoleon loved him to death and was happy. -The third time you got pregnant was not planned. -You 2nd son was still 2 years old. -But you guys were still very happy. -9 months passed and napoleon was almost sure he'll get a little boy again. -But this time a beautiful baby girl was born with your brown hair and blue almost gray eyes. -Napoleon couldn't have been any happier. -He loved and cherished all his children equally. -His first born was calm and cool but very sensitive. He loved reading and studying. He spent a lot of time with uncle Isaac who taught him everything from math to physics to Latin. -The second born was more like Napoleon. He trained with his father and uncle jean as soon as he could walk. He loved his mother a lot and vowed to protect her from bad guys ("like uncle Arthur who always flirts with mama"). -The third born looked a lot like you but her personality was just like napoleon. She had charisma and everyone was in awe in front of her. she usually went on horse rides with her father. -The family would usually cook crepes together on Sunday and all of napoleon children still had to learn how to defend themselves. -He's very open minded and forging but very strict when it comes to their safety.

2-Mozart :  2 daughters (Twins)

-Mozart never thought about having children. -But being with you opened many new horizons in his life and he started thinking about what it would be like having a family with you. -So when one day you told him you were pregnant, he froze for 1 min before scooping you in his arms. -You've never seen Mozart smile wider. -When you were in your fifth month Arthur told you that you seemed bigger than most pregnant woman at that stage. -You wondered if he was right and visited your doctor the next day. -After some examination your doctor told you you were most likely pregnant with twins. She started explaining about the risks that could have. -When you told Wolf about it he was horrified. The thought of loosing you was unbearable. -But you told him you wanted this and that you would fight for your life and the life of your babies no matter what. You also made him promise to treasure and take care of your babies no matter what happens. -Your labor started early. In the 7th month to be precise and after few hours of fear and anxiety the doctor told Mozart that you gave birth to two beautiful girls and that both the babies and you were okay. -Of course the twins were very small and needed extra care but thankfully everything went well. -When you finally brought them to the mansion all the guys went crazy over them. -The first twin was the spitting image of Mozart with white hair and purple eyes. She was calm and cold looking but inside she was a big softie. Of course you guys named her Violet. -The second twin had your brown hair and her father violet eyes and she reminded you of a sunflower. She was cheerful and a bit clumsy. Theo loved her a lot because she reminded him of Vincent. Her name was Sonnen (solar in German) and Mozart always called her my Sonnenblume (means my sunflower). -Both the twins would learn piano from their father but Violet liked it more. Sonnen preferred to go out and play with king and uncle Theo -You would spend hours cooking with Sonnen who always had crazy ideas like marmalade butter beef cookies. (thankfully you would stop her). When you guys finished you went in the piano room where violet and Mozart were playing piano and invite them to eat. -You would all eat in the dinning room though because of the "No food in our piano room" rule.

3-Leonardo : 1 daughter (warning mention of character death)

-Leonardo didn't want kids at first. -He always thought about how you would feel if you saw yourself growing old while your child would stop growing out. -He also didn't want to see his child suffer the same way he did and would again eventually. -And so when one day you told him nervously you were pregnant he grew silent. You knew he needed some time to think it over so you gave him some space.  -Few days passed and Leo still kept silent. He was in his thought most of the time and le compte felt something was wrong with his friend. -When Leo told le compte, le compte frowned and told him that both of you need to have a conversation and that he cant stay silent for the rest of his life. -That night Leo knocked at your door and told you about his fears. You smiled at him and told him that you would never regret giving birth to his child. -"I know a day would come when i will have to leave you, that makes me very sad but what sadden me even more is imagining you alone after i leave. I want to leave you someone who can share your pain and happiness for eternity. Someone to remind you of me, of us." -After that Leo relaxed and as months pass the fear is replaced by excitement. He starts reading tons of books about pregnancies and child raising and his room becomes even more of a mess. -But one day after you tripped on a pile of books and almost fell leo decided that he would keep his room clean of all time. The next day when you entered his room and saw how tidy it is you got into shock. -Anyways few months later you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. Of course as Leo expected the baby was a true blood. -She had light brown hair and yellow eyes identical to his. -She was cute and sweet and at the same time had a fierce aura. She shared her father interests and always sat to read with him books that were way beyond her age. -She loved swords, fighting and sports. -She loved her uncle le compte the most and he always bought her all kind of dresses. -But one day she told him she didn't want any more dress cause she was going to wear pants from now on. -She was a tomboy and loved going to the pub with her uncle Arthur and Theo and start fights (once she was old enough of course) -She became her father best companion and even hundreds of years later he never felt alone ever again because she was always by his side even after you left them both.

4-Arthur: 2 daughters and 1 son

-Arthur knew you were pregnant way before you even noticed that you were late on your period. -He was not surprised because you two would go at it like bunnies every night so it was bound to happen. -He always dreamed and what it was to have a family with you but at the same time he was terrified. His past and trauma coming to haunt him again. -Outside he seemed fine but you knew better. You spent long nights reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. -He was feeling better but still needed your reassurance from time to time. -As the 9th month got closer he became incredibly overprotective. He stuck to your side at all time and got his old medical books out to study again Obstetrics and pediatrics. -He was ready. Or so he thought. -But when the time came he was an absolute mess of panic. It took Theo to give him a good punch on the face for him to get his s**t together. -DOCTOR MODE ACTIVATED. -Thankfully everything went smoothly and a baby girl with black hair and huge blue eyes was born. -He knew that moment he would never be the same ever again. -OVERPROTECTIVE PAPA MODE ACTIVATED. -He never let any man approach her (even the 2 year old who wanted to play with her in the park) -"All men are wolves my darling" he would say as his 1 year old daughter looked at him with he big blue eyes. -Eventually you got pregnant again (Again Arthur was not surprised). -But this time Arthur was a lot more calm. -A beautiful baby girl was born again with smaller blue eyes and brown hair. -She looked like a mini you but with Arthur's eyes. -Arthur wanted to name her Victoria but dropped the idea because he thought it would be confusing (because of Vic). -The two girls loved spending time with uncle Vincent and Theo -The first born favorite hobby was teasing her uncle Isaac as soon as she was old enough to talk. -"As expected of my daughter" Arthur would say as he rolls on the floor laughing. -She shared her father sharp instincts and would help him solve the cases in the city. -The second daughter was much more calm and gentle. Just like her mother. She loved her father stories but not Sherlock Holmes. Her favorite book was "The Coming  of the Fairies" -She had an almost obsession with fairies and supernatural beings. - When your daughter were both 10 and 12 years old you accidentally got pregnant again (If You think two daughters would stop Arthur you are very wrong). -This time it was the cutest baby boy with curly black hair and big blue eyes. -Your baby boy was a huge crybaby and was always stuck to his mother. He was delicate and sensitive. He cared about others well being more than anything and he dreamed of being a doctor. -When he told Arthur he was absolutely against it. He didn't want his son to go through the pain he had to endure. But as your son grew up he became less of a crybaby while still being sensitive and delicate. He showed great talent in the medical field. -"Arthur, you were alone but our son is not alone. He got us and his sisters to hug him and wipe his tears when he'll need a break. Let's support him together." you told Arthur one night and eventually his father accepted to let him live his dream.

I only did the 4 first suitors but if u want any of the others pls do tell me in the comments. I’ll make a part 2. Also since this is my very first headcanon pls tell me what u think. Don’t be too mean pls.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp napoleon #ikemen vampire napoleon #napoleon bonapart #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp mozart #ikemen vampire mozart #mozart #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leo #ikemen vampire leonardo #leonardo da vinci #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #Arthur Conan Doyle

[valnyte]

IkeVamp seeing you play Twisted Wonderland

* first, let us assume that your phone miraculously works (and charges)

* second, assume again that the geniuses plus le Comte and Sebastian managed to hook up a WiFi router

* third, you introduced to them most of the phone basics (what is an app, where is the volume, and how to tap)

Napoleon

• actually, he tapped the app by mistake trying to go to the Camera

• how come when he taps the black screen (he thought it turned off), there are sparkles

• waits for the Disney and f4samurai logos to stop

• the volume is on full blast so he screams when the title screen theme just goes off, plus Silver's voice saying "Twisted Wonderland"

Mozart

• "What do you mean the tap tap music thing does not work like the Piano Tiles thing?"

• you explain that the rhythm game aspects are different with specific colours tied to certain requirements

• he asks if he can try

• noped out so fast because of the red and blue colours and he just tapped everywhere (damn it muscle memory)

Leonardo

• "Cara mia, you said you play for the plot?"

• you told him to roll in the gacha, and he did not get the card you wanted either (sadness noises from the two of you)

• he likes the overblot forms of the characters because w h o a

• even if his gacha luck is crap, he excels in nabbing the magic level up items in Alchemy like there's no tomorrow

Arthur

• he's hooked because of the characters

• he has an entire notebook full of theories for the game - most of it surrounding Diasomnia and the Faculty

• laughed too many times over the dumbass trio getting into unfortunate shenanigans

• you toss the phone to him to assemble your team when the battles come up

Vincent

• he loves the character art and makes fanart

• waits for events so he can see more art

• cried when the Overblotted characters' backstories were revealed because O O F

• his gacha luck is the same as le Comte's: blessed

Theo

• "How much money you said that event made in less than a week? Because of art!"

• impressed by Disney's marketing and the art of course

• facepalms because of the dumbass trio because they remind him of the mess that Arthur drags him to sometimes

• lowkey waiting for Divus content

Isaac

• trying to calculate the logic behind the gacha (still only one solution though: money)

• wants to see the story in autoplay

• finds the Flying lessons ridiculous because how in the hell have the students not fallen off yet, particularly the one just barely clinging on

• freaked when the Headmaster popped up the first time

Dazai

• anime has progressed? nice

• he told you he wasn't about to cry when the Overblotted characters' backstories were revealed but you're skeptical

• his favorite character is Floyd

• hates the gacha so much for being a piece of shit and not giving him the event SSR

Shakespeare

• loves the voice acting in the game

• he never gives his opinion on the story though, but he finds the school setting entertaining because that's how things are done now? (back in my day-)

• appalled by the fact that you have to do things like levelling up and playing a rhythm game so you can progress the story (t r a g i c)

• he will never admit it, but he loves the shop theme and it gets stuck in his head

Jean

• oh no, nope, non, Mon Dieu

• he's not a fan, he's not vibing to it, bye bye

• he holds quite a bit of an opinion on magic and stuff (despite being a vampire) because he was raised in the 15th century

• pure boy despises Grim because of the fire magic and he's not having it

Comte

• "What do you mean you hoard gems?"

• the next month later, he tells you to just buy gems whenever you feel like it with his brand new credit card

• tested out his own luck at the gacha

• he got all the present event cards in one pull so you run up to him the next time another one comes around

Sebastian

• "What do you mean Disney itself has ikemen based on their animated villains now?"

• he digs up the original versions of the fairy tales from the library and compares them to the Disney movies, then to Twisted Wonderland for fun

• he warns you that if he catches you playing while doing chores, you will have to clean all the mansion windows for the next month

• "Leave it to Disney to find ways to make more money."

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #twisted wonderland #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp theo #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp count #ikevamp comte #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp headcanon

[juvinile]

🤔

INTRODUCING  ..   FIA  NIAMH  O’MALLEY 

twenty - one  years  of  age.  faceclaim  scarlett  leithold.  youngest  sister  of  the  o’malley  family  and  heavily  influenced  by  the  hunger  games  character  primrose  everdeen.  typically  found  cleaning  up  beer  cans  in  a  ratty  apartment  in  delphinus  heights ,  or  washing  dishes  in  a  quaint  trailer  home  in  lilac  ridge.  lover  of  all  things  music ,  especially  classical  music  like  mozart.  known  for  pulling  out  her  mp3  player  and  tuning  out  all  of  the  bad  cards  she’s  been  dealt.  keeps  to  herself ,  for  the  most  part ,  and  has  always  felt  like  the  black  sheep  of  her  family ,  despite  the  fact  that  she’s  probably  the  one  thing  that  holds  them  all  together.  princess  locked  in  the  tower  aesthetic.  shares  a  small  room  with  sloane ,  but  has  never  once  complained  when  she’s  been  asked  to  sleep  on  the  couch.  wants  to  go  to  college  for  nursing ,  and  has  good  enough  grades ,  but  she  is  currently  trying  to  obtain  a  degree  at  the  local  community  college  and  maybe ,  if  she’s  lucky ,  she’ll  be  able  to  get  a  job  at  the  local  pharmacy.  some  dreams  are  too  big  for  alley  cats.  to  be  protected  at  all  costs ,  she’s  the  one  thing  that  can  dull  sloane’s  sharp  edges ,  that  can  ease  the  heavy  weight  on  sean’s  sagging  shoulders.  owner  of  the  local  lilac  ridge  cat ,  freckle ,  who  looks  like  they  were  ran  through  a  car  wash  and  their  fur  never  properly  dried  right ,  but  fia  has  a  little  gift  for  seeing  the  best  in  everything.  plants  flowers  in  front  of  her  trailer  home  because  she  thinks  it  will  bring  fairies ,  like  she  used  to  read  in  her  picture  books.  scarily  capable  of  controlling  her  emotions ,  usually  has  a  very  blank  look  on  her  face.  was  bullied  in  school  and  called  the  ice  queen  for  a  while ,  but  those  that  are  lucky  know  her  smile  is  a  lot  like  a  kiss  from  the  sun.  basically  the  most  wholesome  character  in  any  of  my  muse’s  lives  that  has  ever  existed.  PINTEREST  HERE .

#ft. fia #bullying tw #Anonymous #ˏˋ ◟ * SLOANE OMALLEY ／ ASK BOX. ˎˊ #ˏˋ ◟ * SEAN OMALLEY ／ ASK BOX. ˎˊ

[loving-jack-kelly]

when my brother switched to an insulin pump i took all the little syringes he didn't need any more and used them to drink capri suns in my room, 5ml at a time

one time when i was six i used charcoal from the fire pit to write threatening messages on the shed to enhance my playtime in the universe where i was the last dragon rider on the run from a corrupt monarchy that wanted me dead and the messages are still there but my family doesn't know who wrote them

when i ate oranges in my room i would throw the peels out the bathroom window instead of taking them to the trash because it was more fun

one time i got one of those uv invisible pens and wrote all over my little brothers' walls and showed them, but i washed it off before my mom could check for herself

when my family was selling the minivan we'd had for my entire life, was offended and scratched the letter A in the side like that would keep them from selling and even though it was the first letter of my name and neither of my older siblings' names start with A my mom didn't believe it was me because she thought i couldn't read because i was like five but i actually could read because i'd taught myself when she refused to read me my favorite book which i had memorized and i used it to learn letters and sounds

i once fully believed that id found a gate to the fairy world in the woods behind my house and that i could go through it at will but really all i was doing was sitting in a muddy stream for a few hours a day all summer

i used to eat leaves off trees for fun because i thought all leaves were a type of lettuce

i trained a chipmunk living in a stone wall to come out when i hummed fur elise by tempting him with nuts, named him mozart and then forget about him

when my sister and i shared a room, i used chalk to "clean" the nostrils of the wolves that held up her bedside table and now i use that table and the chalk is still there

when i was i think four i took a massive swig of rubbing alcohol because it was in a bottle on the kitchen table and i thought it was water and instead of telling somebody or using the kitchen sink to get a drink of water since my throat was burning i ran all the way upstairs to drink from my bathtub tap

once time the little plastic thing that comes in the air hole of a rubber duck fell out in my bath and i thought i swallowed it and it got stuck in my throat and for years after that i blamed that little plastic piece every time i felt like there was something in my throat

when my father decided for some unknown reason that he wanted a mentos vending machine but never followed through past bulk buying a shitton of mentos, me and my twin best friends would take many boxes  and fuck off into the woods and eat mentos until we got sick which is why i still can't stand mint mentos

when i was in sixth grade i took the the third eragon book out of the library but i dropped it in the bath and instead of telling the librarian i took the library dust jacket off and put it on my personal copy of the book which was the same edition and turned that book into the library

in fourth grade i used my scholastic book fair money to buy a dog shaped pencil sharpener instead of books and i named him raz and made him the general of my eraser army and the entire class got caught up in the ongoing battles between me and my friend Tyler who also had an eraser army and when raz's pencil sharpener fell out in fifth grade we declared him dead because his heart fell out and had a full on funeral for him at recess but i later dug up his body and took him home where i fixed him and gave him a nice retirement storyline with my other toys at home

the first time my mom let me stay up until midnight on new years the condition was that i had to stay in my room so i played by myself with a board game but since i was by myself i just named the little pieces and gave them relationship drama to keep myself entertained

i had three main imaginary friends, they were skunks and their names were Sam, Poosen and Samantha and Sam and Samantha were dating but Poosen who was Sam's best friend hated Samantha and looking back there was definitely romantic tension between Sam and Poosen

#Asper Yells #txt #me listing fun stories from my childhood

[cringeytwilightsideblog]

the cullens throw their long-suffering father the first birthday party he’s had in 300 years (also Jasper’s inner cowboy comes out STRONG)

Hey, thought Emmett as he peered around Edward’s doorframe. Whatcha doing?

“I am organizing my CD collection.” he said. “Why, may I ask, has half of my Mozart been replaced with ABBA?”

“Because ABBA is better than Mozart. Anyway, I need to talk to you.”

“Ok…” Edward said. “Well?”

“In private.”

“I can read minds, idiot.”

“Yeah, but I can’t. Come with me.”

Edward sighed and grabbed his khaki raincoat, his khaki rain boots, and his khaki hat and headed outside with Emmett into the forest. As they were running through the trees, Alice jumped down from one directly in front of Edward, who crashed into her so hard her arm came off.

Alice stuck the arm back on and said brightly, “So! What are we doing?”

“We’re going to have a birthday party for Carlisle!” Emmett announced.

“ Nobody knows his birthday.”

“Bella googled some old census records.”

“Hi!” said Bella, walking out of the woods dragging a deer behind her. “Do you guys mind if I eat lunch?”

“Remember to say grace, dearest one.” Edward reminded her. “The good lord smiles upon those who pray.”

‘Hold on.” Alice said. “You mean all these years Carlisle just could’ve googled his birthday and instead he has to be all dramatic and mysterious about it?”

“I guess it runs in the family,” Emmett said, looking at Edward in his all-khaki getup, reading from the Bible over Bella’s dead deer.

“What?” asked Edward. “My soul is in danger. I need God to reel it back in.”

“Your soul is a fish?” Bella wondered.

“No, love of my life. My soul is a void.”

“...Nice.” Bella took her hydroflask out of her backpack and started filling it with deer blood for later.

“So!” said Alice, trying to get everyone back on track. “Where’s Jasper and Rosalie?”

“Rosalie’s working on her car and Jasper wanted to make the party cowboy themed so he’s at the store picking out hats.”

“Great!” Alice said brightly. “The other outcome I saw was Emmett making it an 80s disco- nevermind.”

“Can we make the party God themed?” Edward wondered. His siblings shook their heads. Bella slurped her deer blood with her metal straw. “You need to get a life, Wardo.”

“I am dead on the outside as well as the inside, my beloved Bella,” he said, sighing. “Therefore I cannot ‘get a life,’ unless that is your way to tell me to kill someone.”

“No. That’s not what I- Oh no! I spilled blood on my khaki skirt!”

If Edward had still had blood circulating his body and therefore had the opportunity to faint, he would’ve passed out then and there. “Bella! No! I-it’s a tragedy!”

“Shut up Edward.” Alice told him. “She still has all the khaki skirts that you gave her for her birthday. And Christmas. And Halloween. And like every holiday on the calendar.”

She paused as she saw something. Edward frowned.

“Jasper’s coming back!”

A few seconds later Jasper came crashing through the forest with several Walmart bags full of cowboy hats. He plopped one on Emmett’s head and threw the bags at Alice, who somehow managed to catch them all.

“I’ve been runnin’ all over hell’s half acre roundin’ these bad boys up!” he proclaimed.

“Gimme one of those,” Bella said, snatched a few out of the Walmart bag, and properly cowboyed up herself and her husband.

“I SAY YEE, YOU SAY HAW!” Jasper yelled so loudly that a couple blue jays flew out of the fir tree they were vibing in. “YEE!”

“HAW!” screamed Bella, Emmett, and Alice.

Why did they respond to that and not the time I tried to pump them up before church with ‘I say Jesus, you say Christ’? Edward wondered. It was truly a mystery.

“Alright cowboys and cowgirls.” Jasper said, his southern accent coming out strong. “We’re throwin’ the rowdiest, most rootin and tootin party y’all have ever seen! Alice!”

“Yes!”

“You are in charge of the decorations! Emmett, you help me construct a rodeo in the woods! This, coincidentally, happens not to be my first rodeo! Edward, you’re in charge of the music! None of that gosh diddly darned Mozart, ya hear me? I’m talkin’ country music. You might wanna run down yonder to Tennessee and-”

“I will NOT!” Edward cried. “How DARE you insult Mozart like this! I am leaving!” He yanked the cowboy hat off his head and threw it on the ground.

“Don’t let the screen door hit ya where the good lord split ya!” Jasper called after his retreating figure. “Bless his rotten, Yankee heart. Alright. Bella, you’re now in charge of the music as well as your original job, which is arguably the most important one. You need to figure out how to make sweet tea that we can drink.”

“That’s easy!” she said. “Take the blood of a diabetic mountain lion!”

“Alright! Now we’re getting somewhere! Emmett, what is it?”

Emmett had raised his hand. “So you know how Carlisle spent like a week in a potato cellar?”

“Yeah.” Alice said. “What about it?”

“What if we make a ball pit… but with potatoes!”

Jasper, Alice, and Bella cheered. Edward, who was lurking in a bush 20 feet away decided that since none of them were using the collective brain cell today he should probably rejoin them. Little did he know that Rosalie actually had the collective Cullen brain cell today, shown by the fact that she was staying out of all this.

“Hello, family.” He announced, dramatically walking out of the bushes. “After some consideration, I have decided to come back.”

“Edward, you weren’t even gone for 2 minutes.’ Alice said, sighing. “Have you changed your mind about the music, at least?”

“ I suppose I’ll help,” he said begrudgingly. “Can Bella help me, though?”

“Yes!” Bella yelled. “I’m gonna play cotton eye joe for three hours straight! Whoever sticks it out till the end gets the diabetic mountain lion sweet tea!”

The two of them plopped down with Bella’s phone to assemble a playlist that contained such classics as Country Roads, Take Me Home, Cotton Eye Joe Gregorian Chant Techno Remix, and the Tennessee state song, Rocky Top. Edward sneaked Clair De Lune in when he thought nobody was looking. Bella promptly deleted it when he wasn’t looking.

Over the next few hours, Emmett and Jasper constructed a small rodeo and then ran around the tri-state area looking for some bears to ride around.

“Look at him.” Jasper said fondly as Emmett wrestled a bear to the ground. “Grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater.”

Alice went to bi-mart for decorations, which for those of you unlucky enough not to live in the pacific northwest, is a cowboy walmart.

By 1 in the morning they had everything set up. Emmett was sitting on the bear in the middle of the rodeo and singing along to Edward and Bella’s playlist. Jasper was helping Alice hang the cowboy hat fairy lights at the last minute, seeing as she was too short to hang them herself.

“Alright, buckaroos!” Jasper cried. “It’s time to go get Carlisle!”

Bella, Edward, and Alice ran back to the house leaving Emmett and Jasper to supervise the bear and the sweet tea, respectively. They burst through Carlisle’s door to find him staring at his creepy vampire paintings.

“Carlisle!” Alice said. “Come with us! We need to show you something!”

Carlisle allowed Alice to drag him down the hall and Edward went to find Esme and Rosalie. A minute later, they were all assembled on the lawn and ready to go.

“Which way was it again?” Bella wondered, looking at the woods.

“Follow me!” said Alice, and ran through the trees until the rodeo came into sight.

“What is this?” Carlisle asked, hearing ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ blasting from Bella’s portable bluetooth speaker that they had put on the table with the sweet tea.

“Hi, Carlisle! Hi, Esme!” Emmett yelled.

“Why is he sitting on a bear?” Esme muttered to her husband.

“Honey, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s done. I’m more focused on the rodeo. And the fact that they’re all wearing cowboy hats.”

Alice plopped a cowboy hat on each of her parent’s heads. “On three! One! Two! Three!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR CARLISLE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOOU!” everyone sang. Edward harmonized badly.

“Is it my birthday?” Carlisle asked. “How did you figure that out?”

“Google!” Bella said proudly.

“That- that’s quite interesting.” Carlisle said, wondering why he’d never googled himself. “How old am I?”

“377!” Bella announced proudly.

“Ah. And may I ask why Emmett is sitting on a bear?”

“This is Fernando, named after the best song in the world,” Emmett said, patting the bear’s head. Edward stared at them, aghast that he hadn’t named the bear Debussy as he had suggested.

“We set up a rodeo for ya, pop!” Jasper said. “Do ya like it?”

“I made sweet tea!” Bella said, grinning.

“I love it.” Carlisle said. “Are you going to wrestle the bear?”

“You bet!” Emmett yelled. “Come at me bro!” The bear growled at him. Emmett growled back.

After Emmett had successfully wrestled the bear, Bella put on ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ and had the entire family dance until the hour-long loop was over. Since nobody had won, they all shared the diabetic mountain lion sweet tea. Emmett pulled some potatoes out of his jacket and threw one at Alice. She threw it back and soon they were fighting each other with potatoes. At this point Esme noticed that the sun was rising and ordered them to clean up, go back to the house, and get ready for school.

#twilight #twilight crack #emmett cullen #edward cullen #alice cullen #jasper cullen #bella cullen #fic

[ageofxail]

Under the Read More are details of my characters & their pets for a commission. VERY LONG POST! Click at your own risk.

Noel Thames Mercer. (FC: Ioan Gruffudd, as seen in Horatio Hornblower, Forever, Amazing Grace, Harrow) Representative of England. A somber, quiet fellow rarely seen to smile and never without a book in hand. Wears his hair like the first photo, dresses akin to the final larger photo. He does have long hair, which is worn in a low ponytail, often pulled over his shoulder.

He does use an arm cane, like this one pictured below. It should be featured in both his promo and pixel art photos! 

Playlist for this character:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFWnGVhNaCQitOZrkwk51-F-chnwPdrjX

Daniel Aleksander King. (FC: Aidan Turner, as seen in Poldark (2015), And Then There Were None, Resonance, Being Human). Representative of (Corporate) America. Extremely bougie man, spends money primarily to show off his wealth. Curly hair, wears a black yarmulke for formal occasions. I'd like him to be wearing a suit and bowtie for the promo pic, and a peacoat/jumper for the pixel piece. The scar seen in the first small picture is present in modern day!

Here’s a playlist of songs that meet his “air” :

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFWnGVhNaCQhI0Ystha_z3ynftmAX2mhl

Jonas Emmanuel Federer (FC: Mark Seibert, as seen in Elisabeth: Das Musical, Mozart!, and Schikanaeder;; These are difficult to find many references for, as he is primarily a theatre actor with very few on screen appearances. Let me know if you need help finding reference photos for him!) Representative of Switzerland. Hairstyle is very consistent throughout each appearance. Usually dresses in semi-casual; collared shirts and nice jeans, hiking shoes on the regular. He is a percussionist, and a member of Topsekret Drum Corps (Link to a TSDC performance! They’re REALLY good!). He’s very serious and usually the first to lodge a noise complaint. One thing that does make him melt is really good music-- much to his annoyance.

Song that best encapsulates Jonas:

(In English) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtfMWOy3780 // (In german, from the Musical Mozart!, with subtitles) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWQz24Omoig

Sir Nicholas William of the House of Grey, (FC: Ben Whishaw, as seen in The Hollow Crown: Richard II, and Bright Star) Representative of Medieval England. Extremely playful and loyal to the crown, very little in the world means more to him than devotion to his job and playing pranks. In modern day, he is no longer attuned to the passage of time and hides himself away in the Tower of London with his raven, where he pretends as if it is still the 15th century. His clothing would consist of robes and simple, hand-made things. The beard should appear in his promo photo, but be reduced to stubble in the pixel art.

Playlist for Nicholas:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLK_2xRaQF2rWo6eic8cMSD_MPB7MihRER

Bradley Marion Walker-Rhodes (FC: Ansel Elgort as seen in The Fault in our Stars, Baby Driver, West Side Story) Representative of Tennessee. Carefree as hell! Zero worries in the world! He is all about fixing up old cars (He’ll have an oil stain on any and every shirt he owns from checking engine oil levels!), playing music, and having a good time. World’s worst “secret” agent because, despite working for the CIA, he is completely honest and incapable of telling a lie. Lives Hannah Montana-style double life as “The Phantom of the Grand Ol’ Opry.” He’ll wear a flannel shirt, jeans, and a cheap pair of sneakers.

PLaylist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLK_2xRaQF2rV09Sk158Vx_Uqbo-pRvuWd

Gabriel Epharim Hill (FC: Christian Bale as seen in Newsies, 3:10 to Yuma, and Psycho) Very friendly, loves horses and neat rocks. He’s never without a good pair of hiking boots, a nice camera, and a backpack to take home neat things he finds along exploring his state’s National Parks. He will absolutey wear a t-shirt that says SL, UT on it and have some kind of image of the Delicate Arch on his person, usually via a metal pin. He keeps himself clean shaven, but doesn’t put a TON of effort into styling his hair unless he’s doing something formal -- such as posing for a nice portrait. He is Daniel’s son!

Unfortunately, I don’t have a playlist for Gabriel lined up just yet, but the band F.U.N. is pretty good at capturing his air.

Now onto the animals!The first three dogs belong to Noel

Brighton Bay Bard is a wheaten Norwegian Buhund with a faded black mask. He’s only 6 months old! His favourite toy is a blue silicon anchor with a tug rope attached. I’d like to have him play bowing and holding said anchor toy!

Eyepatch is an elderly Dalmatian with solid black ears, heavy spotting, and a dark patch around her left eye -- hence the name. She is extremely serious and alert. A position similar to the first photo would be ideal!

Faerie is a white factored sable Rough Collie with her markings on her backin roughly the shape of a fairy’s wings. She is extremely curious and friendly! A raised tail and head tilted to the side should be seen, otherwise very relaxed body stance.

Eleanore is a mostly solid black Raven, with a white marking on her chest in roughly the shape of a crown. I’d like her to be holding a strawberry! This is Nicholas’ favorite raven.

Zeiger is a very atheltic White Swiss Shepherd (should be slightly bulkier than a typical German Shepherd, with a less pronounce curve to his forehead, and shorter, rounder ears). I’d like him to be trotting, ideally in a “Flying Trot” (The point of a  shepherd’s gait where all four feet are off the ground) -Jonas’ dog.

Kitty the English Foxhound is just as playful and un-serious as Bradley. Her tail is always a blur she’s so delighted to see a new person or catch a whiff of something to eat!

Skywalker is Daniel’s extremely shy bat-eared shelter cat, most likely an Oriental Shorthair mix. Her fur is thin and her whiskers are surprisingly long and her purr is loud enough to shake furniture. 

#long post

[thewitchofbooks]

"𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓲 𝓫𝓮 𝓳𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾?" Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart x Reader

Hello~Yes, i had to put his whole name at least once in my life, haha! You are just a human girl that came in their life.They are vampires, so...there is no reason to be scared of you, right?Well, Mozart wasn't ready for such a human being.This fic is more crackish than romantic.Thank you for reading!Please, do not repost, only reblog!

Sebastian was, like always, the first one to get out of his bed.He had to get up even earlier today, because you were slightly frustrated with Herr Mozart and you didn't sleep very much at night.Sadly, he was the one that had to face your anger alone after your day serving the musician.

The dark haired man sighed softly and rubbed his temples.At least it was a beautiful day.The soft breeze caressing his hair and the beautiful, dotted sky made him smile.

"Let's start with the shee-"The sound of glass breaking reached his ears and he nearly cried.Why now?Sebastian walked as fast as he could to the kitchen.He was sure that the sound came from there.He took three small steps in the darkness of the room and asked.

"Is anyone here?"He wasn't expecting a groan coming straight from the ground.It sounded familiar.Very grumby.

"Don't ask."Sebastian turned on the lights and saw Theodorus Van Gogh, the younger brother of Vincent Van gogh, laying on the ground surrounded by broken glasses.

A shriek was then heard and the butler turned his head fast, just to see the flirtarious vampire laughing at the art dealer.Arthur was laughing so hard, that he stopped making sounds and he just clapped his hands like a seal.

Another grumby voice reached his ears when the white haired musician walked into the kitchen.The writer stopped, well as much as he could, laughing and greeted him.

"Good morning to you too, Wolfie."He said enthustiactly and clapped the other's back hard, making him stable forward.

"WHO ARE YOU TOUCHING LIKE THAT?"He glared and slapped the others hand hard enough to make him take it back.

"Owww, why are you always like that?Have fun for once in your life."Arthur said and rubbed the red mark on his hand.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU'RE THE ONE TO TALK?YOU MADE ME LOSE MY BALANCE AND THE GLASS IS BROKEN!"Theodorus yelled and threw a banana at his head.

Suddenly, a pair of feet came in their view.It was you, standing in your nightgown and your messy hair in front of the four men.You took a look around and your eyes widened at the mess.

"Okay, if you don't want me to get angry, tell me who did this."You whisper-yelled at them.

Sebastian looked dizzy, so you pushed a chair close to him and he sat down.Then, you looked back at the three men pointing at each other.Well, mostly to Arthur, but anyway.

"It was your boyfriend's fault.We didn't do anything."The blue haired male answered."Let me tell you how it went.First, there was a HUGE rat running in the kitchen.It run to the table and then it fell.BUT, it went on the counter and it started going through the glasses.I know, i know.Now you are thinking why this place is so clean.Let me tell you that we had to break a glass to get it."Arthur put one arm around your waist and continued."The rat was fast, but we were faster and-"He was cut of when someone slapped him.

"Owww, why do you do that?IT'S UNFAIR!"Mozart grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him.

"Stay away from her, you dumb flirt."He said and took you into his arms.

"Oh?Why so mad Wolfie?Are you scared that i will have your girlfriend.Well, she would be happier with me.I'm great in be-"Somehow, Theo was already up and he slapped Arthur's othe cheek, leaving a mark.

"Whaaaa, why is everyone against me?That's it, i'm out."He threw his hands in the air and went away.

"Because you are Arthot, that's why.Someone, please put a leash on him."And he walked out as well.

"Come on.Let's go."The world famous artist run to his room with you, leaving the frustrated butler alone.

"It's okay Sebastian, everything will be okay.Just believe.Believe in me, in fairies and ghos-aaaaaaaaaaaaa!"The butler stared at the window wide eyed.He just witnessed the japanese writer falling from the window.Sebastian groaned in his hands and stood from the chair to clean the mess.

Small time skip:

"I should be angry at you."That was the first thing he said when the two of you reached his room.He didn't look at your eyes.

"Why?You were the one that got angry and yelled at me in the morning!"You pouted.Mozart took small steps closer to you and he pouted.He looked like a kicked puppy, so you ruffled his hair.

"Don't do that."He said.You gave him a small glare and cornered the taller male to the clean wall behind him.

"Why are you so angry suddenly?What happened?"You grabbed his sides and a small smile graced his lips.

"I'm jealo-ous, heh."You raised your eyebrow.Did he laugh?You moved your fingers and heard a louder chuckle.

Amadeu's eyes widened and he tried desperately to remove your hands, but you were faster than him and tickled him.

"Ngh, st-stop it, hahahahaha, n-no, hahahaha!"You giggled and tickled him until he was out of breath.His cheeks were red and there were traces of tears in his eyes.

"P-please stop."You couldn't.It was very rare to see him this happy so you moved your fingers faster.Your boyfriend fell on the ground from the laugher and you were on him.

"Haha, i'll stop only if you tell me that you love me!"You said cheerfully.

Mozart stared at you with loving eyes and leaned up to kiss you softly.

"I love you."He said out of breath and he kissed you again, passionately.

It was a good night to remember.

Bonus:

"Help, someone!I've fallen down and i can't get up!"

THE END

#Ikemen Vampire #wolfgang amadeus mozart #mozart x reader #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp mozart x reader #fluff #crack #sebastian is dying with those children #he needs a break #dazai is a beautiful fairy #arthur is arthot #theo is...theo #he is a good boy #mozart wasn't ready for that #i'm sure he is very ticklish #especially when he is drunk #arthur gets him drunk most of the times #you still love to tickle him #he wasn't prepared #i'm sorry for my english! #i'm also sorry for your eyes #the window is not hurt #dazai might be

[queen-paladin]

White Queen (John Deacon x fem! Reader)

A/N Written for Laura’s extravaganza! Enjoy! From the prompt of the song “White Queen (As It Began).

Word Count: 2,000 Paring: John Deacon x fem! Reader, Freddie Mercury x Platonic! fem! Reader

Content Warnings: brief swearing, mentions of drugs/smoking/alcohol, a bit of angst, fairy gay godmother Freddie, liberties from the song inspired for this, and tooth-rotting fluff.

“Darling, you are going to my ball tonight or I will drag you by your hair!” Fred was declaring as his car was pulling up to Garden Lodge. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were looking down at your hands folded on your lap. Creamy, clean insides of cars were still something you had to get used to, being a close friend of none other than Mercury himself.

“Fred…It’s just…” you mumble.

“I know you don’t normally like to go to my parties, Y/N, but you can’t cower anymore!” he said with a little huff. The car was slowing to the front and Fred was saying his thanks to the driver.

To think that twenty minutes ago, you were canceling to Freddie via the phone. There was a click and you were preparing for a quiet evening. A limo outside honked with your whistling tea kettle. 

Now here you were. 

Thanks to Working early in the morning, you felt drowsy. The thought of being crowded in a room full of loud, obnoxious people lining up for crack buffets was unappealing. If you showed up tomorrow hungover you would have to kiss your job goodbye.

Besides, there was the matter of Fred’s friends altogether. You met the band members several times prior. The tall guitarist and the blonde drummer had their constant moments of explosion with Freddie joining in until it was a pure cacophony.

Then there was their bassist. He would only nod politely and gently strike the strings of his instrument. But he hardly said three words together. When with you especially he seemed especially shrunk and unwilling to speak.

What other sorts of wild guests would come to the party? Hosted by the only person you were close with? 

Exhausted misery was creeping inside you.

Fred dashed over to the other side of the car and led you out. Your arm looped around the dark leather of his jacket out into the cool air. Stepping up to the entrance, he opened the door courteously to show you into Garden Lodge.

“But Fred…what if I don’t like it?” you ask. Echoes of your voice drip around the front parlor.

“You’ve never been to one of my parties, how can you say if you don’t like it! Besides, it’s different this year-it’s a bloody costume ball! There will be dancing and champagne and everything you could dream!” Freddie cheered. He gave a smile that reached both of his cheekbones.

The clicks of your shoes against the tile floor kept the rhythm of your wandering. A delicate chandelier crinkled over you. Directly under it was a vase full of yellow roses beaming like beads of sunlight. What sunlight there was now began to fade through the wide windows of the house, dripping the place in orange light.

“It does…sound wonderful. Like a fairy tale” you coo.

“Well, I always wanted to be your fairy godmother, Y/N. You do so much for others. And me. I thought you deserved to have some fun. A shame if you missed the chance to live a fairy tale, darling Y/N.”   Freddie compliments.

You walk over and greet your hellos to the staff polishing the place spotless for tonight. In their white suits and dresses with black bows, they were like reverse penguins. Fred would shake their hands, call them by their first name and “darling” and occasionally pop out a little present from his pockets for them to open later.

You looked around at the extravagant house. In just mere hours, there would be an army of people dripping in jewels, satin, and lace all over them. Your formal dress from your high school prom was sighing in a bedroom closet under your parents’ roof.

Fred leads you to up his grand staircase. You glance down at your dark blue t-shirt and jeans. Your face gets hot.

“Freddie…” you start, stopping in between two steps. He turns his head back and takes a step back to be at your level.

“I…I don’t have anything to wear. I don’t think any of the nice shops are open now. They’ll all laugh at how…ugly I look” you mourn. You start to notice how muddy your sneakers have gotten compared to the crisp whites of Freddie’s.

Fred gasps a little with a large “What? Nonsense, Y/N, don’t you dare think like that. Did someone say that? They’re an idiot and I’ll hit them” he insisted.

You give a little smile. Leading you up to the top, you see a hallway with four doors. he points to the door at the end to the left.

“That’s the guest bedroom. Well, for tonight, it will be your room. You’re sleeping over here tonight, you and anyone else you bring upstairs. I provided condoms, too” he informed cheekily.

“Fred!” you exclaim.

“Just in case! I’d rather you be safe! And darling…” he leaned over to your ear. You could feel his giddy, childish excitement bubbling up, ready to burst any second.“I bought a gift for you. For tonight. It’s on the bed. You’ve been an angel to me these past few years, through everything. I thought I might do something in return. And you don’t owe me a penny” he affirmed.

 You walk to the guest bedroom and curiously opened the door. You saw a large white box, wrapped up in silk, silver ribbon laying on the large, pink canopy bed. It’s almost the size of three of the white, lace pillows. 

You undid the ribbon gingerly, opened the lid, and were speechless. 

You heard Fred’s fingers tapping against the doorframe in excitement.

“Darling, your stylist will come to help you in five minutes. As my bonus…” he gushed.

With the stroke of nine o clock, Freddie swept you in your gown among the guests down the stairway. It went a little quiet. You were wearing your gift from Freddie, a white ball gown with a crinolined, puffy skirt, a delicate sliver that puffed out from the sleeves dripping down to reveal your shoulders, collarbone, and neck in only little clouds and was dripping with small silver sparkles. There were endless layers on the skirt, and you had to ask Fred to help you put it on. It almost made a swish sound whenever you moved. Sparkling silver heels embraced your feet. There were also little star jewels that the stylist tucked into your half-updo.

Fred insisted you wait until he himself entered. You found out that you would be walking down the staircase together, looking almost like a couple in a melodramatic wedding. With Fred’s long, black cape, Victorian-era black suit, and black fedora, it pulled off seamlessly. In one hand he held a stick that placed a threatening white mask on the end. But his beaming face expressed otherwise.

You noticed there was a pair of green-brown ones tracing your every step. Familiar. Quiet. Soft. Ignoring those, Freddie indulged the gaping crowd by waving an arm and bowing down low enough to touch his toes to applause. The chatter continued and heads turned away.

“It wasn’t just for me they were silent for, darling” Freddie complimented with a wink.

You felt his arm tugging you across the heads of people, red, gold, silver, and blue bodies. Sometimes there were masks - some ranged from plague masks with daggers for noses to delicate lace masks that blended like veins into their skin. Crinkling skirts covered the hall. Violins and cellos plucked out complicated Mozart lines like breathing. Bodies pressed against your wide skirt. Cigar smoke drenched the air.

Greeting everyone by name, Freddie’s arm nearly strung you around until you saw the eyes you felt earlier. Taller than he looked in pictures, his eyes that crinkled despite his youth as he gave Fred a smile and stopped it midway when his fluffy reddish-brown head turned to you. He was decked in blue trousers and a puffy-sleeved blue shirt opened to reveal his pale chest and long pants the same color of blue. He had a silver vest too large for him kept barely straight with pins. A silver crown rested on his head. Freddie nudged you with him. 

“Deacy, this is Y/N. Y/N, Deacy-or just call him John, if you’d like”.

“I met you before! You’re the bassist!” you exclaim. As you offered your hand to shake his, he took it hesitantly. His hands were sweaty.

Freddie nudged John and said “start off with your thoughts on Flash Gordon! He’s an expert!”

A raspy voice suddenly shouted “Freddie!” and he turned, with a dramatic swish of his cape, with an excited “Rog!” and jogged off.

You two stared at each other. Deacy bit his lip.

“Y/N” he stuttered, his northern twang slipping out “who…where is the bathroom?”

“It’s down that hallway,” you said, pointing “to the right.”

He nodded at you and gave you a smile as thanks before walking away. Something about it, the gentle way he carried himself, the shyness of the nod, and his sweet smile made you feel a little dizzy.

It was ten minutes until you were already sweating. You couldn’t find the refreshment table, no one seemed to want to talk to you, and it was too loud to think. With the crowding and the heaviness of your gown, you needed air. You turned your head to see the glass door. 

You make your way to the entrance of the garden. You slide out, relieved for the bit of clear air. It was falling to night-time. The garden was filled with rose bushes of yellow, red, and white like luminescent gems. You bend down to see the tulips for a bit and sniff them. A lovely break from the stench of tobacco. Now there was only the faint sound of cars and the muffled sound of the party. You walked a bit, admiring the flowers.

“Bloody hell.” Someone sighed.

You let out a little yelp and in surprise, you tripped on your skirt and fell, your hands landing on the dirt and your nose grazing grass.

“Oh! Y/N! I’m so sorry!” John apologized. 

He had been right behind you and did not see anything until you screamed. Feet rushing over he helped you up. John noticed the sight of your hand grabbing his arm and immediately retracted. He bit his lip and kept his eyes down.

“Are you okay? And your dress?” he pondered. 

You turned over to a green stain on your white balloon of a skirt.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, you must…” he said. He began to hide his face in his hands.

“It’s alright, John” you insist…maybe you can fix it. 

You glance over to notice some red roses in full bloom.

“Could you get one of the roses and help me pin it over the stain, please?” You ask. You start to wheedle a pin from your special hairdo. 

“Of course!” John insisted.

He rushed over and plucked it out easily. The attachment of the rose over your grass stain was so tender you fought back a smile.

“I’m sorry…but earlier, I knew already where the bathroom was.” He confessed as he bent down to start pinning the flower.

“Really?” you ask.

“I…I always notice you around Freddie. I know we met a bit before. And, he talks about what a kind person you are. And… I thought, maybe you really fancied him and that there was a slight chance he fancied you back, so you were...I want to talk to you but…I’m pathetic, I’m sorry, I don’t even know how to approach you and tonight…well, it was especially hard because…. you really do look lovely” he said. 

His eyes kept down as if he was daring himself not to stare right at the sun.

The secret smile of yours wins.

“Fred and I are just friends, John, thank you… for the flower, and pinning it up too…and the compliment, I mean. It’s nice to talk to you” you say.

John finally looks up in your eyes. Electricity burns inside you.

“I…I’m afraid I never really knew what to say with you, I don’t like small talk” he blurts.

“Well, we could start with what our favorite colors are…or Flash Gordon, or Fred” you offer with a toothy grin.

You hear violins sweeping out a ¾ melody. People inside the building begin rushing over to the biggest room. You can even make out Fred’s cheer of “who doesn’t love a good waltz, darlings!”

You grab his hand, every bit as soft and sweet as you imagine. And a little less sweaty now.

“But first, can I have one dance with you?” you plead. 

He nods and you both run inside in time.

It would be a better night than you thought. You didn’t know how much time you would spend with him. Goodbyes would eventually be exchanged. Now you wanted to savor every second.

Tagged: @bensrhapsody​ @littledarlingwellaway​ and my angelic beta-reader @thosequeenboys​

#Ldwa1kextravaganza #happy birthday month Laura! #deacy x reader #john deacon x you #john deacon x fem! reader #queen #queen fanfiction #queen fluff #white queen #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #john deacon #deaky #joe mazzello x reader #classic rock

[things-we-used-tc-share]

Game of Survival

Warnings: Violence, discrimination (minor), minor references to sex

Ship: Pre-romantic LAMP and  romantic Remile (mentioned)

Plot: A Demon, an Angel, a Witch, and a Fairy walk into a bar. Chaos ensues. 

This is like a supernatural comedy

--

Patton had gone 190 long years of his life with no one knowing what he is. 190 years living two lives, one among mortals and another among Witches. He likes to work among them, making drinks, baking cakes. They’re funny little creatures, humans, always worried about the end and living life as if any moment could be their last; things Patton doesn’t have to worry about, he’ll see centuries of their descendants before his time is up.

He leans against the bar and sighs. “I’m on clean-up duty then?” He takes a sip of the wine in his hand as Remy, his boss, and best friend, waves a hand. “Finally caved to Emile’s puppy dog eyes and called it an early night?” Remy snorts in response as he presses a kiss to the top of the Witches’ head. 

“It’s less about his eyes if you catch my drift,” The bartender waves his hand, but it’s more like a sassy flutter of his fingers, really. Patton shakes his head and watches him leave. Humans and their short-lived love. Well, he can’t fault them really...their lives are just that short. 

The witch sips from the bottle of wine and leans against the bar in time for the doors to open. His nose twitches and he grimaces a little. Demons? In Suffolk? Now he’s seen and heard everything. “You’re not welcome here,” He mutters lowly. “I have a very strict no-demons policy,” He gets a closer look and his jaw clenches “I definitely have a no-you policy,”

“Not a drink for an old friend?”

“Barely acquaintances,” He mutters, but he grabs the Whiskey anyway, pouring it into a glass as the Demon seats himself at the bar, a smile all too wicked and all too familiar on his lips. 

“Acquaintances? if I’m familiar with human terms I think friends with benefits more accurately summed up or encounters,” Patton rests the bottle a little bit too firmly on the table, a glint in his eyes. “Yes, well, believe or not I’m not actually here on my own terms, you see...I’ve gotten myself into a spot of bother,” The bar door opens again, and Patton recoils physically as he identifies two newcomers. 

“Alright, closing time guys,” Patton calls. “Everyone out,” There’s grumbles as the mortals file out of the door, some still clutching beer glasses. The TV turns to static and the Witch folds his arms firmly across his chest “What are you dragging me into this time?” 

“Prince Roman, well that’s what you can call me, my name is far too long it would take minutes to tell you it, honestly I often think my father hated me,” Patton presses a hand to his forehead in stress, he grabs Elderberry wine and places the bottle on the top. A peace offering, even though it’s technically his own territory.

You just don’t fuck around with a Fae prince.

“Azrael, but I really prefer Virgil,” Everyone holy and unholy loves to change their God, or Satan-given names, after so many decades you just get bored of one. The wings unfurl, white and feathery but the tips tinted the same lilac as the hair on the man’s head. Patton sighs and grabs the wine he’d stolen from a Church one night when he’d been drunk and angry at God. He’d kept it under the bar just in case someone decided a Witch probably shouldn’t have hold of blessed sacraments. He hands it over to the Angel, followed by a wine glass. 

“So a Demon, The Prince of Night and the Angel of Death walk into a bar, why do I feel like it’s judgment day and when did you start dating above your station,” He grabs a bottle of cider and leans against the bar, taking a swig at the drink. 

“Please, I would never,” Roman waves a suspiciously sharp hand before leaning against the bar “Even for me he’s too acidic,” The Demon rolls his eyes. “We’re told you’re a good witch to come too when one is in danger and in desperate need of some...Occultist help,”

“I’m retired,” The witch scowls, flinching as his glamour fades, cracking his neck as the two horns he’d grown to hate so much curled through his frizzy mess of blonde curls. “I work in a bar, I serve old people drinks until they die of a heart attack or overconsumption-of-alcohol-related deaths, I don’t do...this anymore,” He sighs in exaggeration, gesturing wildly.

“Weren’t you the Witch that performed sixteen simultaneous exorcisms on parasitic Demons? What was your name then? Arcadia was it?” 

“It was more of a stern telling off, I’m not a minister, I can simply summon Demons and then tell them to go home, and my name is Patton, don’t call me anything else, especially not here,” His eyes slide suspiciously around, just in case there’s someone else. No, just four misfits in a bar.

The Fae Prince, the Prince of Night, or Roman as he prefers to be called. Heir to a very powerful throne and the lead operator behind the forces of everything in which the mortal world entailed. Dressed all in white, bar the blood red eyes, the crown of ivy entangled in his fiery red hair and the wings knitted by nature themselves. Flowers sprout in the wings of fairies as they and Mother Nature are one and the same. But don’t let the daisies fool you, look too long at a Fae and you will see the sharp nails, the pointed teeth and how the glint in their eyes are almost always murderous.

Except for the fact that Roman specifically, does not have a taste for Human flesh, he’s a humanitarian, he only eats livestock. And berries, lots of berries.

The Angel of Death, Azrael and also now apparently called Virgil. Angels tend to pick and chose mortal names, but this one spends so much time with humans that he’s grown quite attached to his human name. Soft-faced with freckled cheeks and yet, much like the Fae if you look too long you can see all the tortured souls he has carted to Hell, and the lines of his face seem to melt away to a more skull-like form. Patton blinks, he prefers baby faced Virgil.

And then, that bastard. Logan Malachite, or previously just Malachite but he does quite like Logan. “It’s boring, like humanity, so I fit in,” Patton had tried ever so hard to explain the contradictions but the Demon had sidetracked him to more extra-curricular activities, ones that weren’t perhaps part of the job. Dressed neatly in a suit and tie, cat-like eyes staring back at the Witch intently. 

Patton hates that he knows he’s going to end up saying yes. 

“We have an issue with a particular Demon,” Logan starts

“A thief,” Virgil adds

“And he’s not even attractive,” Roman sighs. 

“Yes, a thief, who has stolen the one instrument needed to guide souls of the dead into their path to the afterlife,” Logan tries to get back, with a side-eye to Roman “Roman’s sort of along for the ride, we picked him up somewhere between Scotland and Surrey it’s all a bit of a blur, I really do not know why he’s here,”

“I was bored,”

“He was bored,” He sighs. Yeah that sounds like a Fae prince “The issue is this instrument can also be used to bring the dead back to Earth,” Patton grimaces at this and finishes his bottle of cider “Doesn’t quite sound good, does it? Anyway, I need your help because you’re good with Demons, I don’t know what magic you use but you pacify them so well,”

“I’m nice to them! That’s not magic!”

“He’s like the father of all Demons,” Roman swoons a little “At least this one is handsome,” Patton pauses a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he goes to say something but doesn’t quite have a response to that. “Oh, yes, sorry, if you don’t help us then the entirety of the Underworld is going to rise up after hundreds of years of torment and reenact the same punishments they’ve faced on the whole of humanity,” Roman is way too cheery for this scenario. 

But at least Patton understands now why Logan came to him. He loves Humanity, very dearly, enough to integrate with them which most Witches and Warlocks would not do. Which means he’s the only one left that would care. He curses under his breath. “So you need my help to avert the apocalypse...again?” 

“Again?” Roman asks, suddenly very interested “Is this some sort of love story, ooh can I be the narrator?”

“No!” Three other voices chime at once. There’s a long pause before Virgil says softly “Maybe?” Patton sighs and grabs his bag. 

“My flat, I need the name of the Demon and the name of the tool, otherwise, leave the rest to me,”

Oh, Patton really is a sucker for handsome supernatural men in distress, and he hates it.

--

“God, he is ugly,”

“There’s a lot wrong with that sentence,” Virgil comments in response to Roman’s offhand inability to have a filter; directed at the very, extremely ugly man in front of them. And Patton uses the term “Man,” lightly here, it was more of a shape of a man with very bumpy skin, and not bumpy like acne but....more like boils. Green, awful boils. He’s dealt with demons that look like maggots and had an easier time than the state of this one...and the stench.

“So...hi,” Patton pulls up a chair and crosses one leg over another “This entire pentagram is sealed, so is the house, and so is your exit, so you aren’t leaving until I get what I want, would you like a cup of tea?” The Demon blinks and then shakes his head. Logan sits down and watches with a fond smile. Maybe this is quite the love story after all. Or not. Maybe. 

He doesn’t want to think about it like he hasn’t wanted to think about it for the last 170 years. 

“So, you have something that doesn’t quite belong to you and my friend here would really like it back,” The Demon scowls and shakes his head, a soft grunt of disapproval escaping him. “You have nowhere to flee, but I am happy to read the entirety of Moby Dick whilst Mozart plays in the background until you give me what I want, now I understand your job is treachery and torment but I can’t quite have the end of the world occurring under my watch,” A hiss in response.

Demons seem to all collectively hate Mozart.

And Moby Dick.

The Demon manages two chapters before he’s handing over the weapon, a very finely crafted ethereal blade. Patton grins and hands it over to Virgil, who inspects it before nodding. “Glad to do business with you, you are hereby banished to the fourth circle of Hell, you know the drill, see you in another century or so when you finally manage to get back,”

“You’re quite enigmatic aren’t you?” Virgil sighs when all is said and done “I’ve never seen someone bore a Demon into submission before,” Patton shrugs and offers the copy of Moby Dick to the Angel “Oh no, not even we want that I’m afraid,” Roman takes liberties on hanging off the other’s shoulder, a glittering look in his eyes. 

“Did you steal some of my honey?”

“Just a tad,” The drunk Fae replied, lying down on the couch. Patton knows, somehow, that his honey is going to be missing for another week. But you can’t be stolen from when the object was never yours, honey comes from the Bees and the Bees live for the Fae; that’s why they produce the one thing that can get a fairy drunk. 

Patton sighs and grabs another bottle out of his fridge “I get the feeling the three of you won’t be keen to travel so late at night,”

“I’m almost certain I owe you some form of repayment,” But the Witch only sighs and shakes his head. “Not tonight?”

“Not tonight Logan, I really just need to sleep,”

“What repayment does he usually get?” The Fae asks curiously, spooning honey into his mouth, Logan only grins in response, opening his mouth to speak but Patton waves a quiet hand. 

“I will exorcise you Logan don’t even think about it,” But Roman seems to understand as he coos at them. Virgil’s lips quirk into some sort of smile as he flicks through one of the books on Patton’s shelves, lying on his stomach with his wings folded against his back. “Sleep, I need it,”

Somewhere during the night, when Virgil finally set aside the book and fall asleep, one wing hanging off the edge of the bed and another curled around three other bodies protectively, and Roman had finished the honey and lay at the edge of the bed with his wings folded neatly, and Logan had realized although he didn’t need to sleep he really wanted too, the four of them all lay together. Patton’s head eventually rested on Logan’s chest, sleeping soundly. 

Logan, ever more soft-hearted than he lets on whether he’s a Demon or not, looks down at the friend he only sees once a decade and thinks.

‘Maybe I should stay this time?’

--

Taglist:

@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten// @theresneverenoughfandoms // @charmingprincey //  @aclickonapostwillchangeyourlife // @heck-im-lost//@k9cat//@stilljittery//@romansleftshoulderpad // @sanderssideslibrary // @max-is-tired //@therealmoshar// @punsterterry // @trashypansexual// //@demigodnamedathena //@sevencrashing// @misunderstood-shadow//@aphriteblack // @jemthebookworm//@sandersandthesides//@penguinkool//@georganabanana // @importantrunawaystudentstuff // @ao-koshka// @dangerous-doodle // @river-waterfall // @hell-or-high-waters // @no-sleep-gang-posts//  @wxlcomxtothxjunglx //@marshmallow-the-panda // @flix-net

–

Ko-Fi

#sanders sides #logicality #LAMP #thomas sanders

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Class 1-A as Parents Headcanons

1) Izuku: Embarrassing, Overprotective Dad.   Takes after his mom, cries at the drop of a hat over everything they do, tries to keep his kids from being as reckless as he used to be.  Still a ginormous doofus, mutters and geeks out and embarrasses them something serious.

2) Bakugo: Struggling Dad.  Promised himself he would never yell at or hit his kids like his mom did him.  Has to fight very hard against the instincts from how he was raised.

3) Ochaco: Spoiler Mom.   Remembers how little she had growing up, tries to make sure her kids never want for anything, often goes overboard now that she has money and security.

4) Iida: Rules Dad.  So.  Many.  Rules.  Also tells the world’s absolutely worst dad jokes.

5) Todoroki: Figuring It Out As He Goes Dad.   Has no idea what a good parent is supposed to look like, just knows what it isn’t.  Knows he’ll never be like Endeavor, but has pretty much no clue what to actually do.  Kids will never know their grandfather.

6) Tsuyu: Practiced Mom.  Already had plenty of practice from looking out for her younger siblings, Mineta, and basically being the Mom Friend of Class 1-A.  Parenting is easy after wrangling some of them.

7) Momo: Mozart Mom.   Reads all the parenting books.  All the of them.  Plays Mozart to boost kids brains.  So many charts and plans.

8) Mina: Friend Mom.   Tries to be her kids’ best friend.  Has no interest or credibility for discipline, so the kids run all over her.

9) Ojiro: Boring Dad.  Kids think he’s dull as all get out.   Never gets worked up, does martial arts, but somehow makes that boring too.  Occasionally surprises them when he does something awesome like breaking twenty boards at once.

10) Kaminari: Dumbass Dad.   Kids were pulling one over on him by the time they were three.  Falls for every trick.  Every time.

11) Kirishima: Manly Dad.  Sets a positive example of non-toxic masculinity.  Makes sure his kids drink their “respect women” juice.  Gets SUPER excited over every accomplishment.

12) Sato: Food Dad.   Tries to solve every problem with baked goods.  Works about 35% of the time. Head of the PTA Bake Sale committee five years running.

13) Toru: Girly Mom.  Has zero idea how to handle the boys, but girls it up with the girls.  Princesses, tea parties, fairies, the whole shebang.

14) Jiro: Not Music Just Noise Mom.   Keeps complaining about the music of today and how the music her kids listen to sucks.  Absolutely refused to play any music from any Rafi-like entertainer for her kids.

15) Aoyama: Pageant Dad.  Handles the aging that comes with parenting poorly.  Dyes his hair at the first sign of grey, lives vicariously through pushing his kids into pageants, tv and commercials, etc. 

16) Sero: Not Cool Dad.  Tries too hard to be cool, fails single time.  Kids try to pretend not to know him when he gets up to it in public.

17) Tokoyami:  Fights in Front of the Kids Dad.   Argues constantly with Dark Shadow over parenting decisions.  Still maintains his Goth aesthetic, kids are cheery, bright, and sunny. 

18) Koda: Pet Dad.  Teaches the kids all about animals, has a subscription to National Geographic.   House is absolutely full of pets, from cats, dogs, rabbits, to birds to fish.

19) Mineta: Cleaning This Gun Dad.  Outgrew his pervertedness, but remembers how he used to be.  Now, overreacts and threatens any boy that comes within three feet of his daughter with violent death.

20) Shoji: Normal Dad.   Despite looking like a creature feature, has absolutely no weird parenting quirks whatsoever, other than always being able to see what the kids are doing behind his back.   Makes the best shadow puppets for bedtime stories.

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #tenya iida #momo yaoyorozu #denki kaminari #eijiro kirishima #mashirao ojiro #toru hagakure #mina ashido #rikido sato #kyoka jiro #hanta sero #fumikage tokoyami #koji koda #mha minoru #mezo shoji #yuga aoyama #headcanons #i spent way too much time on this #tsuyu asui #ochaco uraraka

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The Princess, pt. 2 (S.M.)

Summary: Two months later, destiny finds a way to reconnect two young flames.

Warnings: angsty fluff

Word count: 2120

The Princess - Masterlist

It's been almost two months since the last time you've seen Shawn. You were a very busy person and during the day, you'd somehow fool yourself into believing you were okay, but at night, when the world fell asleep and everything got quiet, your mind seemed to be the loudest. Some nights you'd lay awake, thoughts of him overrunning your need to sleep. His almost ware-wolfish golden hues haunted you in real life just as much as they haunted your dreams.Yes, you managed to watch a whole season of Teen Wolf before you were discovered and your TV privileges got revoked. Shawn kind of reminded you of Tyler Posey with his perfect curls that were so soft to touch, lips so sweet and plush. Well, you saw Shawn in everything and everyone and it drove you mad at times.

„In our dreams“, you whispered softly as your eyes closed and the dream fairy cast her spell allowing you to drift away. Your dreams were always the same way; a fairy tale came to life and you'd find yourself starring opposite Shawn. Once you were Jasmin, a princess oppressed into letting go of her dreams until a handsome thief came along and stole her heart. It wasn't that far fetched at all, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't forget how your heart raced when you were with him. He made your heart skip a beat every time a simple though of him crossed your mind and dreaming about Beauty and the Beast this stormy night didn't help you one bit. It was ironic, you thought, how all you ever wanted was to run away from your life, but not even your dreams gave way to a different reality you so yearned for. Shawn Mendes was all you wanted to let go of and all you needed to hold on to. He gave you a taste of happiness and like an addict you craved more, constantly thinking about how to get your next hit.

„Philip, a word please.“ You called the older man into your room politely, keeping up your princess image before others that watched every move you made.

„Of course, Princess.“ He walked in and looked at you expectantly as you paces back and forth, your hands folded in one another and set behind your lower back. The man you trusted more than yourself cleared his throat and you stopped, a small smile gracing your lips.

„I need your phone.“ You opened your hand, waiting for him to comply. He squinted his eyes and raised his eyebrows at your request.

„May I ask what for, Princess?“ He questioned and you started tapping your foot as your patience dwindled slowly just like the quiet echo of your heels.

„Do you want to know the truth or the lie I came up with?“ You smirked and he sighed.

„The truth, please?“ He pursed his lips and waited for you to come clean. If it wasn't clear by now, your relationship with Philip wasn't exactly the same as it was with the rest of the staff. To you, he felt more like family than your own family, and from what you could tell, he felt the same way.

„I just want to listen to some music, I swear! I cannot handle another symphony, because if I have to hear Mozart once more I WILL RIP MY HAIR OUT.“ You entangled your hands into your hair dramatically pulling at it to make your point and Philip raised his left eyebrow.

„Aaaand?“ His questioning gaze pierced through you, knowing you had more on your mind.

„It's Shawn's music.“ You gulped nervously, watching the unmoving man before you, hoping he'd let this one pass. You didn't have any freedom with your outings, or your future, so why wouldn't your internet access be controlled too? You had a phone and a laptop, but every call was logged and watched by someone in the palace, everything you searched online would come up and you'd be lectured by the Queen an hour later. So, you found a way to cheat the system...Philip. At times, he'd let you take his phone to give you some sort of a normal life and you appreciated it greatly. He could see you were feeling down ever since the Queen’s birthday and his fatherly instinct took over. Philip just wanted you to be happy and he broke a lot of rules to give that to you whenever he could.

„Give it back by 5 pm.“ He placed his phone in your hand and watched in amusement as you did a happy dance. Without a warning, you jumped into his arms, colliding with him with a thud making Philip grunt, but hug you back nonetheless.

„Thank you, thank you, thank you!“ You repeated over and over. Philip left you to your task and with shaky fingers you typed his name in the YouTube search engine. You were left speechless once all the new songs came first in results, 'Nervous' being the first. You listened to the lyrics with a smile spread across your face, tears running down your face. It felt so good to hear his voice once more, to feel your heart beating faster whenever he smiled in the new video. He seemed happy..which made you feel happy for him, but a selfish part of you hoped to see at least a glimpse of sadness and longing in his eyes. You hoped he was still thinking of you, dreaming about the two of you, just like you did every night. It felt like you were haunted and he seemed to be released from the demons that plagued you daily. To say you missed him sounded crazy for two reasons: One – you barely know him; Two – missing him was an understatement as it felt like he was the oxygen and after a dash of fresh air filled your lungs, you've been suffocating ever since that day. It was ridiculous really, how this one boy became a beacon of light for you in a single day. For a person who didn’t care for emotions much, he caused a flood of those pesky little human feelings to flow through you and it was hard to understand why..Why him?

„It isn't in my blood...I need somebody now! I need somebody now...Help me..it's like the walls are caving in..“ The lyrics resonated with you on a deep level, leaving you a mess. You wished you could discuss his music with him, talk to him about the lyrics, about your feelings. Too often have you felt that way, trapped in a world you couldn’t get out. Without anyone to talk to about what was going on in your head, sometimes it felt like you were losing it. You opened up to Shawn, for what reason, again, you weren’t sure. It must have been those puppy eyes that drew you in and made you think you could trust him.

Closing this app, you found his Twitter and Instagram, scrolling through his pictures, stopping every now and then to admire his perfect lips. You could still remember how they moved against yours, fitting seemingly perfectly. He probably didn't realize it was your first kiss either.You remembered how his hands tangled themselves in your hair, how they found their way to your hips, pulling you closer ever so slightly, like any distance between you bothered him.

Seeing him plan a secret London pop up show made you jump up with a squeal.  You couldn't help but give in to your innermost desires and made an account 'The Princess', sending a message to his Instagram page in hopes of him seeing it. If anyone found out about it, you’d be in so much trouble, but something inside of you needed to take this risk. So you did.

I see you've come back to a country where the Queen ignores you and the princess snogs you which I can only interpret as a good thing! XO

You knew it was a long shot, millions of people probably sent him messages daily, but you hoped he'd be drawn by your account name to at least read the message.

„Princess, I'm going to need my phone back.“ Philip whisper-shouted from the other side of the door and you sighed sadly, disappointed you never got to interact with him. You deleted every trace of Shawn and 'The Princess' from Philip’s phone and gave it back. Batting your eyelashes at him you pleaded for more time after everyone went to sleep and reluctantly he agreed.

You waited patiently, and by patiently you mean you were a nightmare to everyone who came in contact with you. Being so close to Shawn, knowing he was in the same city had you on edge and all you wanted was to run from your home and search for him. He was like an annoying infection spreading through your body with every heartbeat and every breath you take.

The night couldn't come faster and you kissed Philip's cheek before grabbing the phone from his hands. Plopping down on your bed, laying on your stomach, you quickly download the Instagram app and log in. You gasp audibly, making an 'O' shaped face as you saw a new message came. You took a few deep breaths, reminding yourself not to hope for something that might not be there to ease your potential heartbreak. Swiping to see the message, seeing his name in bold on the screen made your heart stop beating for 5 seconds completely. He read it...he answered.

I couldn't quite forget the best kiss of my life..Does than make me sound desperate? :)

You muffled your excited screams with a pillow, legs flying in all directions as sparks of excitement filled you up and shook you to the core.

I wouldn't say desperate...maybe cute? I'm honored to be crowned your best kiss.

You sent in another message, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You knew how bad this could be if anyone found out, because no social media accounts was a major rule for the royal family and once again, you found yourself breaking a rule that your grandmother would have your head for....they may not do the actual beheading anymore, but she was a scary woman and her punishments were worse than death.

I'm honored you even remember me. A confession: I never stopped thinking about that day.

Shawn's response had you in shock as you read the message 20 times over, word by word.

You're not the only one.

You confessed and the thought of letting him in your private thoughts almost made you sick to your stomach. You rarely let people in or speak your mind anymore, scared of being judged and scorned for your modern way of thinking.

I want to see you again..outside of photos and my dreams.

Shawn wrote and your eyes welled up, your bottom lip quivering. Those words felt like a hand grabbed your heart and clenched it tightly, your brain screaming at you for putting yourself in this position. You wanted to see him..more than anything. However, you couldn't go anywhere without the royal guard and a horde of other people...your meet up wouldn't be private. Not for you, not for the public eye and grandmother would probably freak out over the whole thing. How would you tell her you had fallen for a famous Canadian when she still had issues with Meghan and Harry?

Unless you're secretly Tom Cruise, that might be mission impossible.

You waited for his answer as your chest started to ache and shake, soft sobs coming out of your plush lips. Would you be able to somehow make it work? Maybe somehow, things would go your way. If it was meant to be, destiny would work in your favor, right?

If that's what it takes, Tom Cruise I will be.

His response made you cry openly and you had to put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs that racked your entire body. He has no idea how the court works. Both of your brothers scraped by with girls that weren't blue bloods because they were men..They were also more likely to be kings one day so everyone had a different approach when it came to them. You on the other hand were forbidden to seek relationships on your own, probably because they planned an arranged marriage or something like that. When you told him your future was planned for you, it wasn't a figure of speech. That rebellious streak came back to life once more and before thinking it through, you sent Shawn another message.

Where are you doing your performance in London?

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #the princess

[artisticlegshake]

JUNIOR HIGH SCORE BY PERFORMANCE DIVISION - TDA LV 2018

BALLET:

1st 24 Violins - THE ROCK

2nd Fairies From Sleeping Beauty - DANCEOLOGY

3rd Mozart’s Presto - PRODIGY

4th In Graditute - BUNKER

4th Carmen - ART & SOUL

5th Mozart - DANCEOLOGY

CONTEMPORARY:

1st Fountain Of Youth - CLUB

2nd We Insist - THE ROCK

3rd Clean - CSPAS

3rd Rebuild - DANCEOLOGY

4th Comes In Waves - ART & SOUL

4th Real World Pursuit - CLUB

5th Coming up For Air - MLDA

5th Nocturnal - SUMMIT

LYRICAL:

1st I Will Love You - CLUB

2nd Until We Fall  - MLDA

2nd Memories Forgotten - PRODIGY

3rd If You’re Out There - MLDA

4th Never Enough - BACKSTAGE

5th I Believe - SPEZIO'S

JAZZ:

1st Bellyache - CLUB

2nd Gold - MLDA

3rd Empire - PRODIGY

3rd Open My Eyes - DANCEOLOGY

4th Canned Heat - ART & SOUL

5th Wolves - PRODIGY

5th Bees Knees!! - RHYTHM

TAP:

1st For Once In My Life - PRODIGY

2nd Get On The Floor - ART & SOUL

3rd Sunnyside - RHYTHM

3rd The Third Man - THE ROCK

4th Johnny Be Good - PRODIGY

5th River Deep - RYHTHM

MUSICAL THEATRE:

1st Goldberg Men’s Retirement Luncheon - THE ROCK

2nd It’s A Privilege - PRODIGY

3rd I Am Moana - BUNKER

3rd Transylvania Mania - MLDA

3rd Lucky Scratch - ART & SOUL

4th Anything Goes - DANCEOLOGY

5th Grease! - RHYTHM

HIP HOP:

1st Buck Wild - ART & SOUL

2nd Unlock The Swag - RHYTHM

3rd Cardiac - BOBBIE'S

4th Welcome To My Hood - PRODIGY

5th Rollin’ - ART & SOUL

SPECIALITY:

1st Break The Mould - ART & SOUL

2nd Hallelujah - ART & SOUL

3rd Americano - PRODIGY

4th Drifters - ART & SOUL

5th We Run The Night - BUNKER

#tdalv

[amazingdancetalent]

TDA Vegas Judges Picks

Contains Judges Picks from the following sections of competition:

#1034-1140 (Junior Groups)

#1232-1366 (Senior/Open Solos, Teen/Senior/Open Duets/Trios)

#1359-1519 (Teen Groups)

#1520-1620 (Junior Solos)

#1621-1676 (Mini/Junior Duets/Trios)

#1034-1140 (Junior Groups)

1038a - Hallelujah, Art & Soul

1053 - Empire, Prodigy

1054 - Sunnyside, Rhythm Dance

1061 - Americano, Prodigy

1064 - Bees Knees!!, Rhythm Dance

1067 - Up We Go, Michelle Latimer

1068 - The Third Man, The Rock

1069 - Get On the Floor, Art & Soul

1070 - Mozart’s Presto, Prodigy

1072 - Fairies from Sleeping Beauty, Danceology

1076 - Gold, Michelle Latimer

1078 - For Once in My Life, Prodigy

1080 - I Will Love You, Club

1081 - Break the Mold, Art & Soul

1087 - Silence Inside You, Prodigy

1090 - Clean, CSPAS

1091 - Fountain of Youth, Club

1092 - Comes in Waves, Art & Soul

1095 - Float Free, Bobbie’s

1096 - Coming Up for Air, Michelle Latimer

1097 - Skin II, Bunker Dance

1106 - Benediction, Kim Massay’s

1107 - Canned Heat, Art & Soul

1109 - Johnny Be Good, Prodigy

1110 - 24 Violins, The Rock

1112 - River Deep, Rhythm Dance

1113 - Until We Fall, Michelle Latimer

1114 - Nocturnal, Summit

1116 - School of Rock, Bunker Dance

1118 - Rebuild, Danceology

1119 - Wolves, Prodigy

1120 - Buck Wild, Art & Soul

1120a - Goldberg Men’s Retirement Luncheon, The Rock

1121 - Unlock the Swag, Rhythm Dance

1123 - Transylvania Mania, Michelle Latimer

1125 - Open My Eyes, Danceology

1125a - Bellyache, Club

1127 - It’s a Privilege, Prodigy

1130 - We Insist, The Rock

1131 - Cardiac, Bobbie’s

1132 - Have No Fear, Danceology

1133 - Lucky Scratch, Art & Soul

1133a - Memories Forgotten, Prodigy

1135 - I Am Moana, Bunker Dance

1136 - Real World Pursuit, Club

1138 - Welcome to My Hood, Prodigy

1140 - Rollin’, Art & Soul

#1232-1366 (Senior/Open Solos, Teen/Senior/Open Duets/Trios)

1232 - Love is Burnt, CSPAS

1257 - Forever, Spezio’s

1264 - Mikenzie Moon, Solomon, Prodigy

1265 - Three Short Stories, The Winner School

1266 - Bella Allen, Unfolded Like a Body, Westside

1271 - Scott Autry, Lost in Translation, Michelle Latimer

1276 - Aaliyah Zolina, La Femme, Westside

1278 - Nature Boy, Prodigy

1288 - Cruel Love, CSPAS

1293 - Upon Reflection, Michelle Latimer

1296 - Tayler McGuire, In Place Of Once Was, Michelle Latimer

1298 - Lucy Vallely, Lovely Head, Westside

1309 - Shelby Patterson, Depth Over Distance, Westside

1311 - Aria Terango, Beasts of This Earth, Bobbie's

1318 - Gerianna LoTempio, Tears in Color, Bunker Dance

1325 - Passages, Bunker Dance

1330 - Sidney Klock, From Within, Danceology

1336 - Among My Souvenirs, Danceology 

1337 - Jada German, Soliliquy, Prodigy

1339 - Sarina Jassy, Lament, Danceology 

1340 - Birds of a Feather, Prodigy

1344 - St Louie, Prodigy

1349 - Blackbird, Prodigy

1364 - Love In The Dark, CSPAS

#1359-1519 (Teen Groups)

1389 - Work Hard, Play Hard, Art & Soul

1390 - 1 Sided, The Rock

1391 - My Mind, Kim Massay

1392 - Red Waltz, Danceology

1403 - Warning, Michelle Latimer

1404 - Selfish, The Rock

1407 - Pop Off, Danceology

1409 - The Persistence of a Memory, Art & Soul

1414 - Just Kiss Me, Danceology

1415 - Serenade in G, Prodigy

1424 - The Unknown, Prodigy

1426 - Stranger Things, Artistic Motion

1436 - Consequence of Sound, Bunker Dance

1441 - The Calling, Art & Soul

1443 - Camel, Bobbie’s

1447 - Sleep on the Floor, Prodigy

1448 - Street Car, Art & Soul

1454 - Wild as the Wind, Prodigy

1455 - Not a Gaggle of Geese, Not a Pack of Wolves, but an Army of Frogs, Rhythm Dance

1456 - Glass House, Danceology

1462 - Singing in the Rain, Prodigy

1464 - Whatever It Takes, Danceology

1468 - Through the Fire, Bobbie’s

1469 - Disintegrated, Club

1474 - Ice, Air, Wind, Water, The Rock

1477 - Enough is Enough, Michelle Latimer

1484 - This is My Hair, Club

1487 - Turn the Music Up, Rhythm Dance

1489 - The Masquerade, Prodigy

1491 - Express Yourself, Danceology

1493 - Survivor, Art & Soul

1494 - In Full Effect, Effect, Effect, Effect, Effect, Bunker Dance

1495 - Gather, Westside

1496 - Shake, The Rock

1498 - Perm, Prodigy

1499 - Instinct, Danceology

1501 - Dream State, Art & Soul

1503 - Rhythm of the 90′s, Rhythm Dance

1506 - Isolated Together, Danceology

1508 - Pit Stop, Art & Soul

1509 - Jack, Prodigy

1510 - Very Large Green Triangle, Bunker Dance

1511 - Breezy, Bobbie’s

1512 - Take Off with Us, Danceology

1513 - Ninja, Kim Massay

1514 - Dam in China, The Rock

1515 - The Greatest Showman, Rhythm Dance

1516 - Another One Bites the Dust, Art & Soul

1517 - Came Here for Love, Michelle Latimer

1518 - Confess to Me, Danceology

1519 - The Piano Man, Prodigy

#1520-1620 (Junior Solos)

1545 - Brightyn Rhines, After the Applause, Club

1552 - Devin Mar, Alps, Artistic Motion

1553 - Madelyn Munz, The Ground You Walk On, The Project at HTX

1558 - Aimee Cho, Void, Westside

1568 - Addison Leitch, Dark Matter, Westside

1573 - Zoe Ridge, Sun Gone Dim, CSPAS

1579 - Milla Fabirkiewicz, The Other, Club

1580 - Ava Lynn, Designate, Bobbie’s

1581 - Brooklin Cooley, Mr. Monotony, Club

1586 - Emma Donnelly, Awakening, Danceology

1587 - Sabine Nehls, All I Wanted, The Rock

1589 - Jordan Le, Don't Start No Schtuff, Danceology

1592 - Hailey Meyers, Ne Mas Quitte Pas, Danceology

1595 - Gianna Mojonnier, No Diggity, Danceology

1605 - Kiarra Waidelich, Hold Tight, The Rock

1607 - Alexis Adair, Deteriorate, Club

1614 - Elliana Mannella, Body Memory, Summit

1615 - Bryten Belka, Wrap Me Up, CSPAS

1616 - Summer O'Haver, Consume, Club

1619 - Courtney Chiu, Pendulum, Studio Fusion

#1621-1676 (Mini/Junior Duets/Trios)

1625 - Can't Find the Words, The Rock

1629 - I Got Love, Art & Soul

1637 - Welcome To Havana, Art & Soul

1642a - See You Again, Summit

1644 - Another One Bites the Dust, Danceology

1649a - Where Were You, Summit

1650 - I Put a Spell on You, Danceology

1652 - Once Upon A Dream, Prodigy

1653a - All Waters, Summit

1657 - After The Rain, Art & Soul

1660 - Correctable Violations, Bobbie’s

1663 - Wild Hearts, CSPAS

1664 - Untitled Duet, Performing Arts Academy Of Marin

1673 - Space Between, CSPAS

#the dance awards #nationals 2018

[theairportau]

the airport AU, part 125 by rjdaae and hopsjollyhigh

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100 101, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10 111, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 23, 24

CHRISTINE

Christine sweeps into her hotel room with a new spring in her step, latching the door behind her with an eagerness for the next time she will go out. Her phone chimes—audibly, this time—just as sets her bags down on the desk, and when she sees Erik’s message she doesn’t waste any time in sending her reply:

‘Yes, that will be perfect!’

A smile seems fixed on her face as she sorts through her newly-purchased clothes with an unnecessary haste. Picking one of the t-shirts to pair with the skirt, she tucks the other into the small chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Her backpack full of laundry sits in the corner, waiting for the chance to be cleaned—she’ll have to remember to ask Erik for the use of his washer again, she thinks—but at least she’ll be able to wear a nice fresh outfit for her lesson.

*And* her new jacket!

With a bit of reluctance, she slips the garment from her shoulders, her fingers smoothing gently across the soft grey microsuede.

She still isn’t sure what she did to deserve her good fortune. But she has already been made aware of how best to be *worthy* of it.

Crossing to the desk, Christine drapes the jacket carefully over the chair, then turns her focus squarely to the slightly-intimidating box of books that rests nearby. After a moment of lingering hesitation, she extracts the volume of soprano solos.

It had been days ago that Erik had suggested the Mozart piece—days since *she* had sworn that she would study it at her first opportunity. But one thing after another had seemed to come up, interrupting lessons and her concentration both. She frowns against the feeling of blended guilt and annoyance that warms her face at the thought. It isn’t Erik’s fault that he hasn’t been well—but it is most certainly *hers* that she has neglected such a simple and clearly-defined task as studying a book. Clasping the songbook, she reaches back into the box to retrieve the more technical guidebook as well, determined to not only memorize her aria before the morning, but to begin making up for the past lost days of study.

First, though: the aria.

The name of the piece doesn’t come to mind at first, but after a few moments of leafing through the Mozart section, she succeeds in finding it—Zerlina, the name of the character that sang it, jumping out at her from the page.

‘You will sing Zerlina tomorrow- 'Vedrai, carino’ is a manageable aria.’

Skimming over the music, comparing it to the complexity of the piece she’d auditioned for the Opera with, Christine can feel her face heating up again. What had she been thinking, trying to sing something that, obviously, was beyond her reach? It’s a wonder that she’d been allowed to audition at all—that the men sitting behind the desk hadn’t read the words ’Air de Bijoux’ on her paper and simply laughed her out of their office.

That doesn’t matter now, though. She has a new chance to do things right. There’s no sense in being embarrassed about what’s in the past. All she can do is work her way *forward*.

Though it’s yet only afternoon, Christine isn’t brave enough to risk upsetting any of her fellow guests by singing in a hotel room. Still, she does let herself hum the notes, tracing her fingertip along the orderly staves.

She imagines that she can nearly hear it already: the deft way that Erik would render each trill of the piano, drawing the lilting melody out of the instrument with his expert touch, her voice fluttering along just above the accompaniment like a butterfly.

The words are in Italian, but the IPA transcription that accompanies them removes any great stumbling block that the language might have presented; though there have unquestionably been moments when Christine has wished she’d studied more French *before* coming to Paris, she feels certain that it’ll be a long time before she regrets the time she spent teaching herself the phonetic alphabet.

The book also provides a brief translated summary; and she reads over it, trying to get a sense for the scene before learning the lyrics. It’s straightforward enough: no great dying soliloquy or dramatic entreaty to the heavens—just the sweet song of a simple peasant girl, offering to salve her injured fiancé with her love.

The thought is as naive as it is lovely: Christine has lived her life in the difficult knowledge that a heart can stop beating even if another beats for it alone. But opera has never adhered solidly to the conventions of reality, and Christine has always had a weakness for fairy tales. It isn’t hard for her to let herself be won over by the sweet earnestness of the piece, by the love Zerlina has for her injured beau, little experience though Christine herself has in such matters.

She works determinedly for the rest of the afternoon, doing her best to fix the unfamiliar lyrics in her memory and then moving on to her singing book—reminding herself of the things she has already been taught, and getting a head-start on the things that she is likely to be instructed upon next.

It’s only when her stomach growls, reminding her that she hasn’t had anything to eat since her pastry earlier, that she notices that the sun has set.

---

ERIK

The quiet is both tense and welcome- Khan’s intentions are good, they always have been, but Erik is too deep into himself to keep up a conversation with another person. He looks at his phone, but can’t bring himself to type a reply; he is reeling, unsure where his mind is even going and utterly unable to keep pace with it. Something about a full night’s sleep, something about having energy and stamina seems to kick him into a manic overdrive that he can’t make any sense of.

There has been so much over the past week.

Back in his room, he lets his hand rest on the letter at his bedside- he doesn’t need to read it again. He knows the content of it. Just to feel the indentations in the paper is enough to bring some grounding to him, and in a bright moment of lucidity, he knows what he needs to go back to. The same thing that he has always gone back to, the same thing that has kept him alive, even more so than violence and murder and even Khan.

He retreats down the stairs, and he writes.

He improvises often enough, and it sustains him, but it has been some time since he put pen to paper and recorded anything of his own creation; he never seems to have the energy to write it down, but this burst of mania leads him down a blessedly constructive path- it has been, in the past, that these sudden and overwhelming moments of energy have lead him to more violence, more destruction, but if he can just channel it this time…

The music is as convoluted and messy as he feels, at first- he records it anyway, scratching notes fast enough on staff paper beside his piano that it feels as though the reverberation of the final note still hangs in the air when he finishes recording a phrase and returns to the keyboard. It is a restless cacophony, a tangled knot of music that goes on, and on, until the finest threads begin to emerge. Cautious, reserved- ideas take shape in the form of tense, staccato notes rambling up and down the pages, more pages than he can really keep track of, pages that he just tosses to the side as they finish, without any regard for keeping them in order. He can handle these thoughts, in this abstract form; begin to mold and make some sense of them, not as words, but as music. He is detached from his own body, hunched over the piano and hammering his stream of consciousness into the instrument. The piano is a confidante, the ultimate confidante, something that he can tell his entire story to- things he’ll never tell Khan or Darius, never tell Christine, spill from his fingers. The dissonance of feelings that should cancel one another out, but all consume him entirely, and all at once- the anger, the grief, the shame, and somehow, weaving its way in and out of it all, a thin and shimmering tendril of light, dancing like a firefly between phrases, elusive and uncatchable, blinking in and out of sight and hovering just beyond his grasp. Something that he cannot play; something that he doesn’t know, something new that beckons him ever closer, that leads him to build, and build, and collapse, and begin again each time. A nameless beacon that he chases along each staff, across each page that inevitably makes its way to an unceremonious pile on the floor; it all centers around this, this nameless point dances so close to his fingertips. For now, he has the stamina to chase it all night.

---

CHRISTINE

An hour or three later, and the desk chair has once again migrated to the window. Outside, the evening has only grown even darker, painted in slick shadows by a thin drizzle that had started falling sometime after Christine stopped paying attention. But the rain also picks out the shimmering blue haloes that ring each streetlamp; scatters and multiplies the reflections of the newly-strung Christmas lights, their hues blurring like sparse watercolours across the pavement. It’s a welcome change of view after hours spent hunched over a desk.

The first order of business, after the abrupt ending of her study session, had been to eat something—a problem which, after so much practice ordering from them, was solved easily by a call to the hotel room service.

Thankfully, before hanging up the phone, Christine also thought to ask if they could bring her some postage stamps. This proved a bit less straightforward, given her uncertainty over several of the words required (and the obvious hesitation in the voice at the other end of the line), but the carnet of brightly-coloured stamps now sitting proudly on the side table stood testament to her success. After eating her supper, and getting a shower (choosing to ration her remaining shampoo instead of daring to test the new bottle), she settled by the window with a pen and the postcard she bought earlier.

‘Dear Mamma, I had lunch here today! Soon I’ll go inside, and tell you all about it! All my love, Christine’

On the front of the card, she pressed the protesting pen nib hard against the glossy photo, drawing a rough star over what seemed like the place she and Darius had sat. She could picture Mamma at her fika, proudly waving the card in front of her companions—old ladies whose children and grandchildren *weren’t* in Paris having lunch in front of the Louvre. With a small smile, Christine set the postcard carefully to the side, with the intention to drop it in the mail box she remembered seeing partway between the hotel and Erik’s house.

In the meantime, the sweet romanticism of Zerlina’s song had put Christine in a mood for fairy tales—a notion which the twinkling lights beyond the window did nothing to dispel. It wasn’t long before one of her other books, this time the volume of French stories, found its way onto her lap.

Skipping around the book, reading a story here and another there, she finds that some are ones that she already already knows like her own. Such is the nature of folklore, that the same story can travel so far afield that its true home becomes a mystery, its trappings changed out to blend with each new domicile.

But there are also things that are wholly new to her—kingdoms and enchantments and creatures that she has never heard of, for all the stories that she has read and listened to. A thrilling shiver threatens at an ominously vague reference to something called a ’Korrigan’, a being whose mystery makes it seem far more fearsome than her own familiar trolls; squinting at the dancing lights in the street below, she isn’t sure whether the footnote that explains that such creatures are native to Bretagne, many miles from Paris, is more of a relief or a disappointment.

There’s one constant, though, that shows up in nearly every one of the scattering of stories she reads: whether the story is a familiar one or new to her, tale after tale ends the same way, with love at first sight leading to marriage with a prince or princess (or, in one case, a queen); it isn’t difficult to understand Erik’s exasperation at the sheer *prevalence* of the theme—even if her chest still twinges painfully at the way he’d dismissed such (to her, beloved) stories as scornfully absurd, foolish, even harmful.

It’s a wonder that he cares for *opera*, if he has such a low opinion of unrealistic romances, Christine muses to herself with a rare sardonic smirk, belied though it is by hurt.

She closes the book, leaving many more tales yet to be read, and obstinately looking forward to the thought of every single one of them.

Let her friend think what he will. In a fairy world populated with terrifying beasts and monsters of all descriptions, *love*, even the unlikely love of some royal personage, seems far from the most damaging thing that a person might believe in—or the most fanciful. Even if she’s never been fully certain of its relevance to *herself*, Christine only has to think of her mother and her papa, of the Professor and Mamma Valerius and what they had shared, to know that she *does* believe in love; if none of them were of noble blood, they’d cherished each other as desperately as if they had been.

She returns the book of stories to the desk, placing it beside the others. Despite the hours she’d spent staring at them, her heart can’t help but jump reflexively at the sight of the music books; as she nestles into the covers of her bed, she wonders how she’ll ever manage to fall asleep.

No matter how excited she is about her upcoming lesson, though, it isn’t enough to counteract a long morning spent walking around the great city; before long she slips away, carried on a dream of an enchanted bird singing in a silver tree.

---

ERIK, KHAN, & DARIUS

There is a sense of peace in the night air. Even as the thin drizzle begins to fall from the sky, and Erik keeps up his relentless pace at writing, and the diners filter in and out of the restaurant, the evening doesn’t feel rushed, or drag on. Everything happens as it should at the restaurant, and when they’ve closed for the evening, Khan and Darius curl up in their living room, both tired from the day’s events. Khan very nearly falls asleep in his chair before Darius nudges him and sends him to bed. He goes to sleep, himself, thinking only of the good that had happened earlier that day, the brightness in Christine’s future and the hope for Erik’s, as well.

He and Khan had agreed not to worry about the package they’d received that afternoon until they needed to.

Erik keeps playing without any regard for the time, even as the moon crosses the sky and the sun begins to take its place. In their apartment, Khan and Darius pray together, eat breakfast together, and begin again- Darius going downstairs to set up his kitchen for another day, and Khan going back to his chair, book in hand. The sun makes occasional appearances this morning, clouds moving through the sky rapidly enough to make the shadows dance and change in the span of minutes; Khan watches the street for a bit rather than reading, but finally sets his book down with a sigh, still unopened. He stands up and makes his way back over to the guest bedroom, where they stashed the package yesterday, once they had realized what it was, and leans in the door frame, staring at it as all of the anxiety suppressed from yesterday bubbles up in his gut now that he’s alone with it.

And down the street, Erik is unaware that the sun has set, or risen, or that hours have passed. His singular focus remains unbroken through the night, stretching into the next morning, and page after page has stacked up beside him, some crumpled before being tossed to the side. He has become machine-like in his progress, despite the clarity of emotion in the work itself; it’s as if his body, with all of its physical needs, has simply fallen away for these past few hours, and he can work unbound by regular limitations. While he writes, his mind can neither fall behind, nor keep up; this state of working frenzy has always been his ideal retreat to both avoid and to attempt understanding, and it works just as well now. To pause would be to lose momentum. It isn’t even a thought in his mind.

---

CHRISTINE

Christine wakes before her alarm has the chance to go off; she might have been grateful not to have overslept, if not for the resulting *extra minutes* added on to her wait. Frowning at the still-dark street outside the window, she hopes that Erik, at least, has managed to get another full night’s rest.

She gets up and starts getting ready as if she can’t get out of the hotel quickly enough, though she has *beyond* enough time left until she is supposed to be at Erik’s. Why, she wonders, had she spent the time laying out an outfit last night, when that task might have provided a few minutes of distraction this morning?; as it is, she tries to slow down as she pulls on the skirt and blouse she bought the day before, knowing that all of her haste won’t make the clock tick any closer to her lesson—but may very well tear a seam in her new clothes. The bathroom mirror assists in stalling a bit longer, as she turns to check over her new outfit; the skirt, especially, is lovely—mid-length and full; pale but dotted with countless cobalt-coloured flowers—and she is happy that she decided to buy it after all. Her hair offers another diversion, keeping her busy while she waits for her breakfast to arrive; she settles on a pair of loose braids, which she ends up pinning around her head when she realises she still has half an hour to burn.

As she’s sliding the last pin through the crown, though, a thought occurs to her—one which combines the money in her purse, and the bakery down the street, and the opportunity to get on her way a few minutes sooner.

True, she’s already eaten—but Darius did say that Erik liked the bakery’s gougères.

So taken is she with the new plan forming in her head that she forgets entirely about her intention to ask if she can bring her laundry over. She remembers to grab her music book and Mamma’s postcard, but before leaving the hotel, all she texts Erik is,

‘I am up, I will be there at 10! :)’

Proudly pulling on her new jacket, she sets off.

---

ERIK, KHAN, & DARIUS

Of course Erik hasn’t gotten a full night’s sleep- and of course, consumed as he is by his writing, he doesn’t even notice the pitiful chime of his phone from beneath all the pages covering the music stand. He is starting to feel stuck- all night, chasing something, and he still doesn’t feel he’s even caught a glimpse of it; he can’t begin to perceive what he is trying to accomplish. He keeps playing through the irritation, lets it work itself out in a few harsh and jarring measures- he isn’t even certain what he’s writing, or why he feels the need to write this one down. He hardly ever writes anything down anymore. But it feels less like creation and more like investigation- as if he can’t identify an emotion until he’s heard it played through an instrument first, as if his hands know better than his mind.

-

It’s a reasonably nice day outside- not the bright and sunny day it was yesterday, but nice in its own right. A bit cloudy, with the feel in the air of a possible drizzle later on. Darius doesn’t bother with a coat as he sweeps the sidewalk outside the restaurant- unbeknownst to him, only missing Christine’s passing by a few minutes. Khan has come downstairs, looking for something to do, and Darius gives him busy work, washing and peeling root vegetables for later on- at the very least, it occupies the older man’s mind, and he lets himself slip into an easy rhythm. He can see why Darius likes to cook. Despite the hectic nature of a restaurant at busy times, there are peaceful moments, and it’s good to see work pile up in pans beside him. At least he’s accomplishing something other than worrying up in the apartment. It will be a decent day, he and Darius both determine, separate in their own minds but confirming with quiet glances at each other across the kitchen; too many days have been difficult lately, and they must take peace where they can get it, before things erupt again.

---

(Part 126)

#/airport au