#prima music group

[carolinanadeau]

teaching myself one part of a complicated polyphony song just to feel something

[vacayisland]

Could I request Floyd with a heavy metal/rock troll who almost always has an bass guitar at their side and plays extremely loud, metal music? Could they also just generally be viewed as sardonic and teasing, often teasing others and calling them things like "doll", or "darling", but if someone did they to them then they would go red?

Thank you!

@!; Get used to it, Doll. Floyd / Rock troll! Reader

"Tag list"! @storydays @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq @apieceofcathair3 @kitthefanfickat @cyb3r-st4r

ꨄ︎. When Floyd told his brothers he was introducing them to his lover, none of the brothers (expect Branch) would have ever bet that they would end up at Rock Hollow (home of the rock trolls in the Pop Troll). Nevertheless, none of them expected Floyd to be such a frequenter at Rock Hollow that one too many Rock Trolls knew him by name! "Floyd, buddy. Come here for a second." One Rock troll would shout towards the group, a snicker on their face. Floyd only would glance over and wave them off, explaining how he needed to find Prima/Primo with a slight flush on his cheeks. And before he could even get teased, Branch noticed how Floyd covered the side of his face, "Oooh, watch out boys, the Prima/Primo's lover is here! Clear the way, clear the way!"

ꨄ︎. Safe to say that Floyd's brothers didn't expect this at all, especially since Floyd tended to have more sensitive ears than the rest (though Branch's was by far the most sensitive after the years of isolation he had to endure). Everything was just so loud and chaotic and in your face, even JD had to shuffle towards the group despite having been curious about this whole place at first.

ꨄ︎. Floyd grew ever so nervous the further they trekked into Rock Hollow and didn't find you, as he knew how noisy it tended to be inside the Hallow and he didn't want to put his brothers up to that for nothing. After all, after all the time he's spent in here, he's more accustomed to the noise. His brothers? They were not. (expect Branch) "Right Floyd, are you sure they're here?" JD shouted over the music, covering one of his ears to drown it out. Meanwhile in the back, Clay was questioning Branch as to why he wasn't bothered by the music. "Yeah! I'm sorry, they're-" Floyd fumbled over his words, trying to peak over the crowd of rockers. Yet he didn't have to search for long as he heard an all too familiar guitar riff scream over the speakers of the center stage.

ꨄ︎. To say his brothers had to run to keep up with Floyd was an understatement, they had to sprint and dodge and duck and weave around other rock trolls to catch up with Floyd (who hadn't even realized he took off sprinting towards the main stage). When they managed to finally catch up with him, they found Floyd stood off to the left wing talking to two other rock trolls.

ꨄ︎. "Ha! Buddy, better late then never." A Troll Branch recognized as Val patted Branch on the shoulder, flashing him a grin as Demo nodded in agreement. He went on to explain how, who the brothers guessed was Floyd's lover, was getting all nervous thinking he wasn't going to come as promise. Demo even made a playful jab, "They were about to bail the sound check!" With a small chuckle, which got him a playful punch from Val in return. "What? I'm just saying that would have been really bad." And as Floyd chatted with the two, with the brothers standing awkwardly to the side (unsure what to do with themselves), Branch got curious about who this mystery Troll everyone called Prima/Primo was. Maybe Poppy was rubbing off him in a bad way... but nevertheless, he's heard that name around the village before and he was sure Poppy had invited them here for some sort of reason (he had heard her also gushing about them). So naturally he was a little more curious than the rest.

ꨄ︎. "Well, you see I had to get my brothers in line and-" Floyd would explain, hoping that Val and Demo would understand the situation that led up to him being late. Especially since you had been the one to tell him to bring his brothers over if they wouldn't let him leave without them (mostly JD's fault). And while he was explaining, Floyd's voice slowly trailed off as he watched Branch tip-toe around Val and Demo to get a peak of the stage. And for some reason all the nerves of his family meeting you had shot right back through his veins as Branch paused in astonishment. Confused, Val would wave a hand in front of Floyd's, now nervously frozen, face as Demo glance behind him. But, it was no use: "FLOYD?!" Branch had figured out who you were.

ꨄ︎. And well that's when sound check came to a complete halt as you had heard Floyd's name being echoed over the speakers (surprisingly because usually you couldn't even hear demo). In your (silent) excitement about Floyd finally getting here, you didn't notice the way your guitar pick slashed over your guitar strings, causing a god awful sound to ring through the speakers (thank god Demo had cut that off early, because JD swore that might actually give him early hearing loss if it continued longer than the three seconds it had!).

ꨄ︎. "Doll, you finally made it!" You would shout from the center of stage, swinging your guitar to the side and jumping off the small rosed platform you stood on. Despite the excitement Floyd saw in your eyes, you played it suave and walked over to him; Slinging your arm around his shoulders and giving him a peck on the forehead. A giddy smile wobbled it's way onto Floyd's face, though he crossed his arms and shot you a teasing look up, "You thought I would miss your soundcheck, Darlin'? Sour judgement on your part really." No one missed the way you would look away, letting out a cough to clear your throat and misdirect the fact that there was a blush creeping on your face. Val and Demo were used to this, the teasing way of your twos relationship and the fact that you could never hold a straight face at Floyd's sassiness. Sometimes, Val even joked that Floyd wore the pants in the relationship (which you tried to heavily deny until Floyd would call for you and you trailed off like a puppy.) "Right, is anyone going to explain to us how the fuck this happened?!" Branch cut the two of you off just as Floyd gave your hand a kiss, drawing both of your attention back to the four other brothers. Clay stood next to Branch, equally as confused, "How did you manage to get with the guitarist of DSOTM?!"

ꨄ︎. Safe to say, it was kind of a long story on how you and Floyd met. Funny enough it was during both of your solo careers, after Floyd left Brozone (and before he got captured) and before you joined Dark Side of the Moon (which is quiet a mouth full so it got shortened to DSOTM). "Basically, the short end of it, was that I was on tour," You would start as everyone had gathered on the stage, sitting around the raised platform in some sort of semi-circle like it was kindergarten story time. You and Floyd sat on the raised platform, "And my manger said I needed some vocal lessons and I told him to piss off and find me some. "I wasn't going to waste my time searching for an instructor, and to be fairly quant with all of you I had no idea how to even start lookin'. Apparently, you just look through newspapers." You would shrug, smiling as you wrapped your arm around Floyd's waist again. You would fail to notice the way Branch scrunched his nose in slight distaste at the fact you constantly were holding Floyd. Floyd didn't seem to mind to, as he placed his hand on top of yours, "Well his manager saw my add in the paper and called me... and it kind of was professional at first until they invited me out for coffee and we kind of clicked." "Right, but where as that twat when you were captured Floyd?" Branch blurted out, crossing his arms. There was a pause on the room for a moment. Val even paused in eating her order-in lunch to look over at Branch in slight shock, "Oh shit."

ꨄ︎. You and Branch have issues now; Floyd and Val had to physically restrain you after Branch's comment as you kept yelling about how you would beat him up (Floyd was sure you weren't going to actually do it because he kept telling you don't but Demo wasn't taking any chances, the stage just got cleaned!). Demo called Poppy to come get Branch and Floyd, after the whole event, stood there wondering what the hell had just happened.

ꨄ︎. "I can't believe your brother called me a twat!"

ꨄ︎. "I don't know whether to be shocked... or if I expected this."

Master list | Home Page (can Y'all tell I have fun creating discourse in the brothers family with lovers? It's funny to me)

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[amuyyi]

she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew. 

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey. 

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked. 

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

 “You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place. 

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

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On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m  going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things. 

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run. 

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the  djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room. 

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know. 

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years. 

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before. 

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time. 

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.” 

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Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this. 

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life. 

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved. 

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

[quietcontradictions]

NO THAT'S WHY EVERYONE HATES THE THEATRE, BECAUSE THEY START WITH MUSICALS

Think about it, if your primary form of storytelling is a bard/gleeman singing, then its not that big of a leap to create a new form of storytelling where you have multiple gleeman singing.

…and he’s right

[daiourage]

TFO Other Prime AU (Concept #8: Design, Relationships)

[The rest of the AU!]

Edit: ASJLDKLFAJSDFJL 7 AND 8 ARE POSTED OUT OF ORDER 😭😭😭😭😭

As always, press/click for quality!

1. Okay hear me out. I want Starscream to be in love y'all have NO idea I'm like ill or something;;; What if he was in love with one of the 13 Primes since he worked closest to them as the captain (commander?) of the High Guard. Prima and Solus are in charge of pushing them together LMAO 2. Skywarp stayed behind while Thundercracker agreed to go with Starscream in case anything were to happen. They exchange intel, and the Autobots/Council are aware of this. Please do not mind how they look, I plan to draw them more in the future so they'll look better than this haha;; 3. Each main member of the Autobots have their "personal Decepticon" that they're with frequently, especially in combat. With Elita and Blinky, they're probably in charge of protecting one another equally, but it depends on the setting. For example, when in a meeting, Elita's probably a guard. When fighting against an enemy, Blinky's by Elita's side like a retainer. 4. Bee probably dissociates when by himself. He also probably looks like he's seen some things... I love the concept of Bee being the oldest member of the main 4 due to the sheer amount of time he's been down there. Also. Snack buddies with Rung! 5. Bee is the ambassador for the Autobots/Council because of his talking prowess. 6. Bayverse reference. Optimus and Other Prime are probably called by their former names by the other 2 members of their friend group, and also each other.  7. Holding Bee's hand calms him down, as figured out by Rung. It "quiets" his mind and calms him down. Rung then suggests having people he cares about hold his hands whenever he starts to feel "noisy" (casually putting my own attributes on my favorite characters). Maybe a set up to the Act of Intimacy but I dunno if I want to add that since there's already too many G1IDW homages in here... 8. Struggling to design the Primes...

⚠️Deja vu warning!⚠️

Concepts #3~#10 are all drawings I've uploaded before, but I deleted the original post because it was an intimidating wall of text lmao. So, I've decided to repost all of my drawings but separately, because I want to show the concept sketches(?) I worked on in between breaks from doing schoolwork.

(Also because I want to post my own art but I can't since I'm recording music rn)

[blackswaneuroparedux]

What 'War and Peace' is to the novel and 'Hamlet' is to the theatre, Swan Lake' is to ballet - that is, the name which to many people stands for and sums up an art form.

Robert Gottlieb

It’s hard to believe that Swan Lake’s original premiere was seen as disastrous. When it first performed on 4 March 1877, at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre.

Tchaikovsky’s magical ballet tells the story of the doomed love of Prince Siegfried and Princess Odette. Prince Siegfried goes out hunting one night and chases a group of swans – one of them transforms into a young woman, Odette, who explains that she and her companions were turned into swans by the evil Baron Von Rothbart. The spell can only be broken if someone who has never loved before swears an oath of undying love and promises to marry her. The Prince declares his love to Odette and promises to be loyal forever.

At a grand reception at the palace, the Prince must choose a bride – but he can think only of Odette. Suddenly a fanfare announces the arrival of two guests - it is Odette! The prince dances with her and asks for her hand in marriage. But it’s not Odette - the mystery woman is the daughter of the evil von Rothbart, Odile. Odette has witnessed the whole scene. Too late, Siegfried realises his mistake.

Siegfried follows Odette to the lake and begs her forgiveness. She says she forgives him but nothing can change the fact he broke his vow. They decide to die together. The lovers throw themselves into the lake.

There are a few different theories as to how Tchaikovsky came up with the idea for Swan Lake. Though the libretto is based on a story by the German author Johann Karl August Musäus The Stolen Veil, many of Tchaikovsky’s contemporaries claimed that he was deeply fascinated by the tragic life story of Bavarian King Ludwig II - sometimes called the Swan King - who died under mysterious circumstances by drowning himself in a lake.

It is likely that Tchaikovsky chose Ludwig II as the prototype of Prince Siegfried. It is easy to tell that the composer clearly enjoyed working on the music for Swan Lake, as he wrote far more material than would ever be required. As a result, the version most commonly performed today is, in fact, an edited one, created after Tchaikovsky’s death and significantly shorter than the original work. 

Considering that Swan Lake is currently the most frequently performed ballet in the world, it's hard to imagine that it was a failure upon its premiere, with near unanimous criticism of different production aspects. Critics were universally disparaging, claiming the production was indistinctive and forgettable. They disliked the set and the choreography, thought the orchestra and dancers were subpar, and thought Tchaikovsky’s score was too complicated. The dancers who performed in the ballet’s premiere also declared Tchaikovsky’s music was too rich to accompany their balletic moves, and simply too difficult to dance to.

Because of these distractions, the actual brilliant score by Tchaikovsky got largely overlooked amidst the chaos.  Although a few critics did recognise the virtues of the masterful score, it was considered far too complex for ballet, too “noisy” and too “symphonic”, resembling the grand, weighty music of Richard Wagner. Even the initial ballet dancers deemed the music too difficult to dance to as its density clashed with the fluid and graceful balletic movements.

One of the issues for the premiere performance was the absence of the Bolshoi’s prima ballerina, Anna Sobeshchanskaya. Sobeshchanskaya rejoined the production as Odette/Odile in April 1877 but insisted on making certain changes to the choreography and score. Two years later the original choreographer, Julius Reisinger, left Moscow and was replaced by Belgian choreographer Joseph Pater Hansen. Hansen set about re-staging Swan Lake, launching his new version in January 1880.  All 33 performances of the ballet between 1877-1883 sold out, attesting to the ballet’s increasing popularity amongst audiences.

A planned revival of the ballet in the early 1890s was cast into doubt by the death of Tchaikovsky in November 1893, who didn’t live to see the ultimate success of his ballet. Tchaikovsky had written far more material than was ever required, and after his death, Riccardo Drigo took on the job of revising Tchaikovsky’s score, with the approval of his brother Modest Tchaikovsky.

The revised and edited version – commonly the version of the score used today - is considerably shorter than the original, full-length work. It premiered on 15 January 1895 by the Maryinsky Ballet at the Maryinsky Theatre to overwhelmingly positive reviews.

Call it what you like - Dance of the Four Swans, Dance of the Cygnets, The Four Little Swans - but for me the pas de quatre from Swan Lake is one of the most iconic dances in one of the most iconic classical ballets of all time. It is a coveted role for a ballerina, one that requires technical precision and teamwork. The light-hearted Dance of the Cygnets involves 16 pas de chat performed by four dancers moving sideways in exact unison with their arms interlaced. 

I’ve always found its spirit of sheer innocence and beauty breath-taking to watch. I’m left with wonder restored and a distinct feeling of the flight of innocence coming back to rest in my hardened heart.

Video: Royal Ballet's Swan Lake (2018)

[adoredandruined]

One Happy Family

Kristof Lazar x F Reader

Following the events of 'Abigail', you spend as much time as you can with your son, Caleb, trying to forget what happened. Unfortunately, Lazar has other plans for you, Joey.

Content Warnings: smut so MDNI, threat, non con, dub con, coercion/blackmail, blood, commands, masturbation, praise, overstimulation, manhandling, pet names (darling, dear), fingering (f receiving), turning (vampire bite), choking with a belt, breath play, dacryphilia, unprotected p in v (only fools don't wrap their tools), creampie, cum play Do let me know if I've forgotten anything :) Word Count: 4.3K

The sun had long since set, a deep navy blanket filled with the pinholes of distant stars above the bright coloured lights of the carnival. Halloween weekend was in full swing and the carnival was no exception. 

Strobes from the rides danced across the ground, twinkling and swirling, shooting out into the empty sky, a beacon to all for miles around. The usually empty field came alive with laughter and chatter. Cheerful music played over cheap speakers that echoed through the crowds of families bustling around, moving from ride to ride in an effort to complete it all in a single night. Children pointed and pulled hands to get a closer look, pupils blown wide in wonder. 

Cotton candy and donut scents wafted through the air, mouth watering and enticing in their sugared delights. Carnival workers shouted and rallied groups to them with the potential of winning oversized teddies and fancy gadgets. 

With boots squelching in the muddied floor a new scent caught your attention, the smell of greasy fairground burgers, and your stomach growled in want. You closed your eyes and took a deep inhale, the scent alone would have to suffice. This weekend was not about you. 

“Come on!” Caleb whined. 

Your son tugged on your hand, full of excitement, pulling you towards the bumper cars. 

“Alright, I’m coming. What’s the rush, buddy?” You chuckled, allowing him to weave his way between people to reach his destination. 

“There’s no-one in the line, we’ll be first!” He shouted, giving another tug. 

You laughed again, his warm smile filling your heart with happiness. Spending time with Caleb every weekend had become your new favourite pastime. Seeing joy in his small round face you couldn’t imagine going back to your old ways again. You sighed heavily, smile faltering. 

Your old ways. You peered down at him on the end of your arm, still giggling and tugging you along. His face alight with that beaming smile, one he offered whenever you picked him up after school, is why you stay clean. All of your dark thoughts are banished in the wake of seeing him so happy again. 

A yawn threatened to emerge, keeping your lips tightly shut to stifle the sign of your exhaustion. Working double shifts at the hospital keeps you busy. Gruelling but honest work, the shadows beneath your eyes hide little of the toll it takes on your body, but it keeps your mind from straying back into the dark, into all that has occurred in recent times. Caleb makes it all worth it. 

You should never have taken that stupid job. 

But when you hit rock bottom an offer of 7 million dollars is a hard cheque to pass up. It would’ve guaranteed a better life for you both, somewhere far away and somewhere new. The meagre late shift wages you made now couldn’t compare to what you could’ve done together with money like that. You blinked hard at Caleb, finding him staring up at you with a concerned look in his eyes as you spaced out. You pulled a tight smile, a simple nod to assure him you were ok, and he was back to his toothy grin. You poured all your focus onto that. On him. 

You just have to show up. 

The wordsof the young prima ballerina rang through your mind. For all her murderous intentions she had been right about one thing. Caleb didn’t seem to care for expensive gifts or trips out every time you were together. He just wanted to see you, for you to be there. 

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, focusing back on the small hand that had finally stopped pulling. You waited in line for the bumper cars as Caleb chattered about his school, his friends and anything else he could think of that he hadn’t told you since last weekend. You listened with rapt attention, sure that this moment couldn’t be better. You didn’t even mind if he repeated himself. He was happy to be with you and that’s what filled your aching heart with joy. 

---

Hours passed in the blink of an eye. You had been on every ride, some even twice, and Caleb was beginning to show signs of slowing, his energy finally waning. You suggested one final time around the Ferris wheel for the view of the city and a stop for donuts before heading home. Caleb thought for a moment, reluctant to leave it seemed, before he nodded enthusiastically, toothy smile broad on his face. You smiled back, a similar grin stretching your features. 

As you turned, you felt your body collide with a much smaller frame. You began to rush out an apology to the little girl you had just run into when all colour drained from your face. Your pulse quickened and your heart pounded heavily in your chest.

Her angelic face beamed up at you, predatory smile like a mask, hands clasped behind her back as she swayed on her feet. Her simple ballet practice uniform did nothing to hide the monster from your view. 

“Abigail” You smiled tightly, squeezing Caleb’s hand a little tighter in the presence of danger. “How lovely to see you” 

You darted your eyes over the crowd, palms becoming clammy as fear crept up your spine. You quickly scanned her for signs of the death and carnage she was likely here to commit, memories of all you had witnessed in the mansion flooding back to you in disturbing detail. 

“Your father is-” You began. 

“He’s here. Somewhere” Abigail smiled. 

Her expression made you uneasy. Correction, it downright terrified you. You tried your damnedest not to let Caleb see your fear; the last thing you wanted was for him to be afraid. You were having such a wonderful time too. 

You watched as Abigail introduced herself to Caleb, shaking his hand in an awkward gesture, his brows furrowing in confusion. He looked to you for guidance and Abigail settled her gaze on you too, daring you to intervene with a sick grin. You smiled at Caleb in what you hoped was a reassuring look. You glanced around at the crowds of people, praying for a way out of this nightmare. 

“We’re going on the Ferris wheel, want to come?” Caleb beamed. 

You groaned inwardly. Of all the girls your nervous son had to pluck up the courage to speak to, why did it have to be her? She’d be a lovely sweet girl, if it wasn’t for her vampiric nature. Abigail nodded enthusiastically and reached out her hand. 

Caleb let go of yours, taking Abigail’s outstretched one as they turned away. You lunged forward to save your son from impending doom when a strong hand clasped your shoulder, freezing you in place. 

“I’m sure the children will be fine for a while. Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?” The chilling voice of Kristof Lazar cooed in your ear. Your heart stopped along with your body, terror leaking through your masked expression. Caleb looked worried, beginning to move toward you and away from Abigail. Lazar’s hand gripped harder, the sharp points of his nails digging in and making you wince. 

A warning. 

You twisted your face back into a smile, nodding for the children to leave. You didn’t trust your voice not to betray your true feelings. As they hurried away, Abigail leading an unsure Caleb, your pulse was pounding in your throat. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spew the overpriced junk food and soda from your stomach. 

“Well done. Slitting your throat in front of your son would have been…distasteful” he whispered, the cruel smile tinging his words. 

“Please”, you begged, “he has nothing to do with any of this. He’s innocent” 

Lazar scoffed. “There is no such thing. Not in humans” 

You closed your eyes as tears threatened to fall. You felt Lazar leave your back, his slow steps felt in the pit of your stomach as he came to stand in front of you. A finger under your chin had your eyes shooting open, your natural instinct to recoil at the touch. His penetrating stare held you in place, preventing you from fleeing. Your bottom lip trembled as you found your voice again. 

“Don’t hurt him, I beg you. Do what you want to me but leave him. Please” you begged again, imploring the cold-hearted man for mercy. 

“Your son will be unharmed, if you do exactly as instructed. You’re rather good at following orders, aren’t you?” he smiled, dropping his hand from your chin. “Walk” 

Your body seemed to move against your will as Lazar lead you away from the crowds, away from Caleb, towards a tinted stretch limousine concealed behind the vast shrubbery surrounding the carnival. Two guards, pale and muscled, stood guard and opened the door for you, the pitch dark interior filling you with dread. You slowed to a stop as the feeling of death racing towards you built and received a firm hand on your lower back in response. 

“Now, now. I’ll have none of that” 

You turned your head slightly, a view of the top of the Ferris wheel coming into view. This was for Caleb. You would do anything to protect him. 

You dared not look Lazar in the eye, swallowing deeply as you ducked to climb into the car, sliding onto the plush leather seats and pushing yourself to the farthest side, you hoped away from the monster. 

The door slammed behind you, encasing the interior in total black. You felt too exposed, too vulnerable blinded. The sounds of your own breathing echoed around the vehicle and your pulse raced beneath your skin, the feel of your own veins pumping blood a dizzying sensation. For an age there was nothing but eerie silence. You thought perhaps this was all Lazar had intended; to scare you. Ensure your silence for the aftermath of a job gone wrong. But you knew he was not a merciful, nor a forgiving man. 

A single light appeared above the middle seat, illuminating your left side where you were pressed against the window.

“Move into the light” 

Lazar’s voice came from opposite you, too close for comfort, as the bright light showed only his suited legs, crossed with ankle over knee. You remained frozen in place, your eyes squinting through the darkness to see more of him. 

“Don’t make me ask again, darling” he said, a low rumble coating his words, animalistic in nature. 

You did as instructed, sliding slowly into the light with shaking hands pressing into cold black leather. You tried to calm your breathing, taking deep inhales as you discreetly wrung your hands of nervous sweat. Your mind strayed to Caleb alone with Abigail again. Your only wish was that he would remain safe. You prayed he would remain that way. 

“Take that awful sweater off” he commanded. 

You hesitated, frowning at his insult and confused at his lack of threats. You expected torture and gore; this unnerved you more. You slowly removed the apparently offensive garment, placing it alongside you. 

“I’d order you to burn it if we had the time” he growled out. 

His disgust at a piece of clothing would be comical if you weren’t afraid for your life and the life of your son. 

“Your shirt. Take it off” 

Any humour fled the limousine. He was commanding you to strip. You gulped at the implication, as if you didn’t feel vulnerable enough. You kept your hands stiffly at your sides, hands clenched in fists to keep from shaking. You stared into the darkness at him, willing confidence into your expression with your refusal. 

“Defiance is not an attractive trait on you. Refuse me again and I’ll have your son’s head” 

The thought brought bile to your throat, making you gag as you forced it down, your heartbeat quickening again. 

“If I do as you ask, you promise me he’ll be safe? You’ll let him go?” You asked the darkness. 

You were met with silence. 

“Answer me!” You shouted, anger filling you as the instinct to protect Caleb overrode everything, the sudden burst of confidence breaking through your terror. 

“I give you my word, he will be safe” Lazar sighed, his impatience slipping through his careful control. “Now-” you heard him shuffle against the seat as he resumed his relaxed position, a hand appearing in the light gesturing to your shirt. 

With another thick gulp you slowly unbuttoned your shirt, not meaning to be slow or sensual as your rattling hands wouldn’t allow you to fully clasp the buttons. You looked away to the dark window as you pulled the material from your torso, skin puckering with goose flesh in the cold air. You sucked in a shaky breath as you pushed your shirt on top of your sweater, beginning to cross your arms over your chest. 

“Ah, ah, ah” Lazar tuts, “hands down” 

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you return your clenched hands to your sides, tears beginning to fill your eyes. This is for Caleb, you thought, this will keep him safe. 

Lazar hummed in approval and you squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting the praise of the demon in front of you. 

“Remove the rest, darling” 

Humiliated and terrified you remove your jeans, leaving them in a pool at your feet with your boots, tucking your shaking hands behind you to remove your bra. You cursed as the clasp kept slipping from your fingers, your eyes screwed shut to keep yourself from crying as your panic rose. The longer you took the more your hands shook, the cloying feel of death creeping up your spine. 

A shadow and sudden presence had your eyes shooting open. Lazar towered over you, one long clawed hand gripped the seat behind you as his other slid along the skin of your ribs to your back, painfully slow. His bright inhuman eyes locked with yours; a predator with his prey in sight. With a flick of his deft fingers the clasp shot open, and one tug to the front had it falling away from your arms, baring your naked breasts to him. 

You stared up in horror, eyes unable to leave his piercing stare as your chest shook with unshed cries. You heard the ripping of fabric as his claws raked marks through the leather behind your head, his teeth gritted and jaw flexing. He looked in pain as he stared down, gently reaching a clawed nail to graze your hard nipple. With the barest of touches hardening the bud he pulled away in a flash, returning to his seat opposite you in the blink of an eye. 

You let out a shaky gasp as the tension in the air lessened without his presence bearing down upon you. Without further command you began to remove your underwear. Lazar growled, a deep guttural and animalistic sound, halting your movements. 

“Leave them” 

It hardly sounded like him, the monster within taking over. You flicked your hands away from your undergarment like it burned your flesh, pushing yourself back against the seat in the hopes you would sink through the material to safety. 

You felt his eyes roving over your figure, devouring every inch of you, his hands gripping the back of the seats hard. The leather squeaked and buckled under his tight grip. As seconds passed of him simply staring at you, you awaited your inevitable death. With the thunder in his eyes you were sure that was his plan. To strip you, humiliate you, and then kill you. 

“Touch yourself” he said. 

You blinked, unsure if you had misunderstood him. As the confused look passed your face he spoke again. 

“I want you to touch yourself. Bring yourself to climax” 

He leant forward, just enough for you to see the smirk curling his vicious lips. A wicked, evil smile dripping with charm. You wondered how many women, and men, he had spoken to like this over his many centuries of undead life. An unnatural pang of something spread through your chest as your hand slowly trailed down your body, fingers slipping under the top of your underwear. Surely you weren’t jealous of others being demeaned like this? 

The tension in the car mounted, your prior disgust and humiliation beginning to melt away under his alluring gaze. He hummed his approval as you began to circle that small bundle of nerves, fear and surprising arousal driving your actions. 

Lazar set the pace. If you slowed, he snarled his disapproval, and if you quickened too much he would tut or hum, pleased with the control he had over your vulnerable form. 

“What a pretty sight” he hummed. 

He kept you teetering on the edge for what felt like hours, your body highly strung and ready to burst at any moment. He seemed to know exactly how close you were at all times, his unblinking stare never leaving your form. Specifically your eyes. He held your gaze firm and tight, challenging you to look away and lower your guard. Your heart thumped faster in your chest. You knew he would strike when your resolve broke. 

Your fingers sped up, slick covering your hand and likely the seat beneath you. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. How could you be deriving pleasure from this? 

As your movements increased, breathy gasps leaving your lips, Lazar made no sound to stop you. You took this opportunity to chase your high, tension pulled like an elastic band ready to snap. You couldn’t take it anymore. You felt the familiar coil of your approaching orgasm build, getting closer and closer to your peak. Your noises became more frequent, more moans and whimpers than hidden gasps now that shame was absent from the situation. 

That’s when you made a lethal mistake. Reaching the crest of your orgasm, your head thrown back and eyes shut, gaze broken from the vampire in charge. 

Lazar was on you before you could cry out. His body pushed yours into the seat, a hand in your hair to keep your head back whilst the other found your waist, keeping you pinned. Sharp fangs sank into your throat, tips piercing the artery and drawing your life force into his waiting mouth. He moaned openly against the wound as he sucked and licked, grinding against you on the seat. 

Your orgasm didn’t falter. It crashed over you like a tidal wave, vision flashing white as pain and pleasure mixed to form a crescendo that thrashed your body. Your hand came out of your underwear as quick as it had arrived, reaching up to push against Lazar as he drew more of your blood into his mouth. His hand quickly replaced yours, finding your clit and encircling it with expert fingers. He rubbed quick circles around the bud, drawing moans and whimpers as you cried from the overwhelming sensations, pushing your body into overstimulation.

You came again as his fangs released from your neck, his fingers still moving expertly against you. He watched with rapt attention as you came undone on his hand, leaking wetness across the seat beneath you. He had never been more enraptured. 

As his hand left your underwear you brought a shaky hand up to your neck, feeling the warmth of your own blood pulsing from the wound, beginning to coagulate with his venom. Your head swam with a dizzying sensation, body heating up as fire spread throughout your veins. 

“What-what have you done to me?” You whispered. 

Lazar didn’t answer. His usually bright eyes were flooded with darkness, lust taking over as he grabbed your body hold. He flipped you, pressing your face against the leather stained with blood and keeping it there, the other hand angling your hips towards his own. Your knees scraped against the floor of the limo, the hard floor grating against the skin. 

You felt his claws snap the bands of your underwear, the now useless cloth dropping to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to the monster behind you. Through your fuzzy head you heard him groan, running his fingers through your folds and gathering the wetness there. Turning your head as far as you could, you caught sight of him licking your wetness from his fingers, your release mixing with the blood staining his mouth. His eyes closed and he groaned, a throaty sound that had you clenching around nothing. It was a shamefully erotic sight. He caught you staring and held your gaze with a smirk. 

“Almost perfect” he sighed. 

He turned your head back around with a forceful shove of his hand, cutting of your view of his next moves. You could feel your pulse pound inside your skull, the feeling of blood still leaking from your neck and dripping down over your chest causing waves of pleasure as it passed over your burning skin. You heard his belt buckle loosen and the rustle of fabric, enough to know his next plans. 

Suddenly your head was wrenched back, cold leather wrapping around your throat and pulling you up until your back hit Lazar’s chest. His grip was like iron, your hands scrambling to pull at the collar he had fashioned from his belt. It worsened your already swimming head, pushing all other thoughts from your head aside from the man grinding into you. 

You felt his cock slide against you, gathering your wetness along his shaft. He leaned into your neck, licking and kissing his way up to your ear, his breath hot against you. 

“I have big plans for you, my darling. You and your son” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. 

Your heart froze. 

“What have you done to Caleb?” You groaned out, blood turning cold in your veins at the thought of him being harmed. 

Lazar continued to grind himself against you, threatening to pull your mind away from the pressing danger. 

“I’ve done nothing” he squeezed the belt a little tighter, “it’s what Abigail is doing” 

Panic rose as your breath failed you, vision blurring and darkness pulling at the edges. Lazar waited until the last possible moment to release the pressure, allowing you a momentary reprieve. You coughed, fingers still weakly pushing at the belt. He tightened his hold again, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Together, we’ll be a family” he whispered. 

You had but a second to contemplate his words, feeling the effects of his venom spreading through you, turning your body into a monster, before you felt his hips slam forward. You cried out at the intrusion, his cock stretching you and hitting all the way to the hilt, his hips pressed firmly against your backside. 

Lazar groaned out, enjoying the way your walls clenched around him the tighter he pulled the belt at your throat. He revelled in the control he had over your body, the ability to take your life should he choose, made him rock hard. He supposed he had already taken your life, gazing down at the wound on your neck. Your life would never be the same, and you would never escape him. 

He began to thrust his hips, pulling out agonisingly slowly only to snap his hips back into you. Tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes, mouth open with moans as his cock drilled into you, quickening in pace as he steadily lost control of his animalistic nature. He pulled your head all the way back, cutting off your air completely as his hips all but stopped. You felt his long tongue run up the side of your face, from your jaw to your cheek, collecting the wetness of your tears. You whimpered at the sensation, the sound small and vulnerable with lack of air. 

He growled into your ear, slamming his hips back into you and resuming his quick pace, loosening the belt enough to allow you breath. The obscene sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the limousines interior, broken only by your cries and Lazar’s groans of pleasure. His hand on your hip held you in a crushing grip, sure to leave bruises. If you survived this encounter.

You felt the familiar build of your orgasm approach, core tightening as you approached your release. Lazar could sense the change in you, the fluttering of your walls and the higher pitched cries that left your sweet lips his sign. This time he leaned down to your ear, bending his body over your back and forcing your hips to arch further into his, forcing his cock even deeper at this angle. 

“Cum for me. Cum and seal your fate, darling” he cooed. 

You had no mind to hold back, the monster at your back having fucked it out of you. Your orgasm crashed over you, heightened by his hips continuing to snap into you. He pushed your body into overstimulation, body shaking from one orgasm and racing towards another. Your vision was almost completely gone and your eyes rolled back inside your skull, thoughts only of the cock drilling so deliciously in and out of you. 

With a final grunt and a tug on the belt at your throat Lazar emptied himself inside you, pushing his hips flush with yours as you felt his warm release coat your walls. Your body shook, uncontrolled spasms wracking your weakened form. A searing pain shot through your neck, the wound burning. 

Lazar released his hold on the belt, allowing you to flop forward onto the stained seats. He pulled his cock slowly out of you, hissing at the sensation. He watched his release flow out of your quivering pussy, reaching down to push some back inside you, enjoying the way you whimpered. 

Your vision began to fade, exhaustion taking over your body. You felt strong arms wrap around you, picking you up with a quick grace and laying you in their lap. Your fading vision blinked up at Lazar, cradling your head on his lap and rubbing your hair. The action would be sweet if it were anyone else, and if you weren’t dying. 

“Sleep. Life begins anew when you awake” he said, planting a kiss against your forehead as your vision faded to black. 

You only hoped Caleb would forgive you. 

[thoraeth]

Nevermind the blorbos Headcanons

[One piece punk band AU/modern AU] Part 1, Part 2

Characters: Ace, Bartolomeo, Franky, Buggy, Law

Barto's the guitarist, Ace is the bassist, Franky plays the drums and Buggy shrieks sings

They stick together because of their contract but they fight a lot, threatening to leave the band every other day.

You're the band's personal assistant and every time your phone rings you regret all your life choices.

Ace looks calm and composed but he's the wildest one when it comes to partying and getting wasted. His pockets are always full of not-so-legal stuff.

He was dumped ages ago but never got over it. The fans fall for his sad boi soft smile.

Bartolomeo is the most skilled musician out of them all, he studied music and is a huge music nerd who's gonna charm/bore people with endless lists of niche groups and genres.

When he talks about his nana and his tattoos, everyone goes feral over how cute he is.

Buggy is all over the gossip pages either for being a prima donna or destroying something (it was Ace). He loves the attention and free clothing.

Some days he's cold when meeting fans: he knows he's not pretty nor talented, why would these people care? They just like his fame.

He texts you at 4am, asking to add random things to the band's expenses reports. He's actually trying to confess he likes you but chickens out every time.

Franky doesn't care about fame and drama he's just in for the chaos. Videos of him shouting "super" are a viral meme on tiktok.

He met Nico Robin on tour and married her on a whim. The two of them ranked #3 on a famous "weird-but-cute" celeb couples poll.

[amarguerite]

i am so c o n f u s e d

ive been seeing u reblogging/talking abt the gilded age among a couple others of ppl I follow/talk abt JA and like............ITS LOOKS PRETTY. SEEEMS LIKE ITS A VICTORIAN ERA THING WHICH IS NICE. but but would it be as inapp as bridgerton?? I can just skip through fucking scenes so I can look at the prett dresses but if theres outright fucking itd be age inapp BUT I need smth to watch while crocheting and this seems like the perfect kinda trashy show to watch

so so as a person whos seen it like should i watch it or not? 😭😭

It’s set in 1882 in the first season and 1883 in the second! It’s very mild, in terms of sexual content. Clothed making out between George and Bertha Russell and then in the second season their son has an ill-advised fling with an older woman that results in them making out while fully clothed and a scene of them chatting in bed while under the covers. I think the most you see is Laura Benanti’s bare leg. ETA: there is a scene in the first season where one character tries to seduce another by being naked in his bed but he gets real mad and immediately makes her get dressed and leave.

It’s a lot of fun, but admittedly it’s fun for me for some very specific reasons. If any of these resonate with you, I’d give it a shot:

1) great costuming

2) nearly every contemporary Broadway star is there to chew on scenery, be witty, and wear hats

3) ridiculous gilded age nonsense where ultra-rich robber barons and “old money” New Yorkers fight over who gets invited to what party. The overarching plot of the second season is about the construction of the Metropolitan Opera House

4) neat subplots featuring genuinely cool female historical figures who accomplished an incredible amount given the societal constraints under which they existed. Last season there was a long subplot about Clara Barton founding the Red Cross and this season there’s a subplot about the female engineer who was actually responsible for constructing the Brooklyn Bridge instead of her husband

5) fantastic scenery

6) a look at the Black elite of New York at the time— a group I didn’t know much about until this show

7) Nathan Lane giving one of the strangest and funniest performances of his long and varied career.

8) on location shooting at big Gilded Age mansions in New York State and in Newport, Rhode Island. The house belonging to the character played by one of my fave Broadway prima donnas, Kelli O’Hara, is actually Lyndhurst House, the actual Gothic Revival mansion of actual Gilded Age robber baron Jay Gould.

9) an insanely high props budget that they use to buy such outlandishly delightful things as penny-farthing bicycles and magic lanterns

Is it a good show? Honestly, I don’t know if I can answer that question.

Is it great if you’re a musical theatre fan who enjoys being able to say, “oh my god that’s Douglas Sills from The Scarlet Pimpernel and Little Shop of Horrors playing the Russell’s chef!” Yes.

[lycoris-basement]

Empyrean Suit is just such an impressive piece of music. Both concept and a melody itself. Created from a handful of notes in few comic panels and brought to life by fans in different interpretations, it's just fascinating and to listen to. Every variant has its unique charm, some more upbeat and orchestral, some more mournful and techno, some right in gloomy and suffocating, but all have in its core recognizable rhythm that connects them all. Those few scratches of notes that make Empyrean Suit what it is

A song that calms down, brings in the moment, sends into wistful dreamscape, melancholic and beautiful ode to past. Makes to think about what was, what could be and what is now. Simply wonderful experience

And to think such music originated from race of giant robotic aliens to celebrate past and eventually became a broadly recognizable leitmotif of famously sadistic decepticon group. It gives another layer to this incredible phenomenon of music. Once a beautiful melody, now annunciator of horrible death and a last thing that tortured spark hears before its end. Once created to celebrate history, now accompanied by screams of agony of those who fell victims to Decepticon Justice Division

“It always ends the same way. After the torture, I rouse them with a spot of music... and then whisper them to death. That's the routine. It's what people come to expect. As Vos used to say [Old Cybertronian]”

“«The Empyrean Suit - The Fourth Movement». It's become our leitmotif, or, as Helix calls it, our theme song. It's said to be composed by Eucryphia to celebrate Prima's Citadel of Light. An ode to the grand duchies of Cybertron. A pean to the Thirteen Tribes.”

“Urgh. Still, as Megatron once said to me, even the debauched and fatuous society can, on occasion, produce something beautiful.”

“Is it beautiful? I used to think so. These days it barely registers. I have played it to death.”

[katnisspeetaprim]

First Meeting

Always us couple, based on the story told in the first part (Suchwita) about how they first met!

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Word Count:936 M.list

January 2013

You were unbelievably late. As you ran through the BigHit hallways, you couldn’t help but curse yourself for not preparing better the night before.

You’d told your members to leave without you when it became clear you wouldn’t find all your dance gear in time.

Prima had debuted just under two years ago, so the heat was still on for the four of you, plus it was now time for a new comeback, so being late really didn’t give a good impression.

‘I’m sorry I’m late!’ You yelled out, flustered as you burst through the door to Prima’s usual dance studio. You stopped in your tracks when you came face to face with seven young men. You recognised them as trainees who would be debuting in a group called BTS soon.

Your face lit up red when you realised you’d just interrupted their practice.

‘I’m so sorry! My group must have been moved!’ You bowed to them in apology, but they were fast to dismiss your worry.

‘Who are you? A trainee too?’ A voice suddenly asked from across the room. You looked over with a slight frown and looked at the light haired boy. Did he seriously not know the other groups under his company’s label?

The other boys in the room shot him wide eyed looks, obviously afraid of one of their own offending their senior.

‘Please don’t mind him noona, he’s not very in the loop.’ The one you recognised as the leader, Namjoon, stepped forward, trying to de-escalate the situation. You laughed and waved your hand.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ You turned back to the other boy who now had a confused look on his face.

‘It’s Yoongi right?’ His eyes widened slightly when you mentioned him by name. ‘Give my group a listen sometime.’ You bowed again before quickly ducking out of the room.

You had to bite your lip when you heard the boys begin to bicker behind the door, presumably scolding Yoongi for his actions. You laughed quietly and walked away to find your group.

The embarrassing encounter had slipped your mind after a few days, quickly becoming busy with your comeback. You found yourself with a rare free moment during the day, so you decided to spend your break in one of the quieter staff areas.

As you entered the room, you were pleased to find it empty, apart from a hunched over figure in one of the corner chairs. As you stepped closer, you realised that it was Yoongi.

You stopped and took in the younger boy. His eyes were closed and he had his ear phones in, clearly he was also enjoying a moment of peace.

As you stared, you seemed to realise that he was kinda cute and good looking, even in just a casual hoodie and jeans.

As if he could feel someone watching him, Yoongi opened his eyes and stared directly back at you. You blushed at being caught. Looking away, you cleared your throat and rubbed at your arm.

‘Hi Yoongi, nice to see you again.’ He’d taken his ear phones out and gave you a small smile.

‘Are you training hard for your debut? I know It’s not far away.’ You asked sweetly, wanting to make an effort with your fellow label mate. Yoongi raised his eyebrows slightly, not expecting you to be interested but he chose to not mention it.

‘Yeah... You know how hard it is to have a good debut and make a good first impression.’ You nodded with a small chuckle. It wasn’t always smooth sailing with your group. Your debut didn’t do as well as you’d hoped at first, but definitely picked up in the weeks after as more and more people discovered you.

An awkward silence fell over the two of you as you just kind of stood in the middle of the room.

‘I listened to your groups music.’ You suddenly perked up at his words, big smile appearing.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I really liked it.’ It was only a small thing, but it always made you giddy when someone voiced their favour for all your hard work. You took initiative and moved to sit next to the trainee.

‘I’m so glad to hear that!’ He flashed you a gummy smile when you sat next to him.

‘I hope you’ll like our new album too!’

‘I’m sure I will, if it’s even half as good as your others, then it’s going to be amazing!’ This boy was just full of compliments it would seem. It was making you feel all fluffy on the inside.

‘I’ll be supporting your debut too!’ You pulled out your phone and opened the camera.

‘Here! Let’s take a selfie and I’ll post it on my groups Twitter!.’ Yoongi’s eyes widened and leaned away.

‘Ah no, I look a mess right now.’

‘Oh hush! You look cute.’ He went silent but blushed at your compliment, giving in.

You shuffled closer and threw your arm round his shoulder, missing the way his blush deepened at the close contact.

‘There! We look great together, don’t you think?’ You showed him the photo and he could only nod with a smile. The two of you really did look good together. Now that he was looking at you properly, he had to admit that you were beautiful. Not only that but you were obviously talented too. Pretty much perfect in his eyes.

Yoongi knew he shouldn’t be thinking that way about his senior, but as long as he was careful, you would never find out. But eventually, you did find out.

[starshower1215]

Hange Zoë Loose Song Analysis: "Primadonna"

(Levihan included at the end so you may skip if desired)

"Primadonna" by MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS reminds me so much of Hange. It's the lines in the chorus, like "All I ever wanted was the world/I can't help that I need it all," "You say that I'm kinda difficult/But it's always someone else's fault," and "You can count on me to misbehave."

The atmosphere the music creates also correlates to their personality to some extent. It's kind of electropop or dance pop, something you'd play at a big party with a large group of people; It's impersonal. Hange looks to me like someone who's easy to see but hard to know. They always jump from one thing to the other, they are always absorbed in something else, it's difficult to get their attention on you. Almost like a celebrity. They have a facade that makes them seem untouchable, but underneath, they're still human.

This idea also corresponds with the partnering of the lyrics and music. Again, it's dance pop, but Marina uses lyrics like, "I'm sad to the core.../Every day is a chore," "Fill the void up with celluloid," and "I get what I want 'cause I ask for it/Not because I'm really that deserving of it." It has the same clashing attributes that a dark joke has. So, again with the impersonal exterior covering a sensitive interior.

Similarly, in reference to the title, a prima donna is literally in Italian a first woman; basically, someone who acts like the star of the show. This in itself suggests the presence of insecurity, because someone who does this is often also green-eyed and vengeful, but envy and vengeance usually stem from their insecurity of not being enough. Now, Hange isn't particularly vengeful, but acting like the star of the show seems right. They have no idea what they're doing as commander; we see this when they ask Erwin why he chose them and when they're visibly upset when Eren asks, "Hange, what can you actually do?" Every time they stand up to act like a "proper" commander, they hide themself behind Erwin's cold, calculated exterior.

Actually, all of this can be summed up by another line from MARINA's "Oh, no!" which goes, "I feel like I'm the worst, so I always act like I'm the best." Which is not specific to Hange, but it was worth mentioning.

[Levihan Bonus]

It also reflects my idea of how Levihan would work out. Hange appears to be a big tornado of a human, and Levi is just caught up in the gravity of their storm, ensnared and bewitched with their destruction and unable to leave their side. So the other lines, such as "You say that I'm kinda difficult/But it's always someone else's fault/Got you wrapped around my finger, babe," and the demanding lines like, "Would you do anything for me/Pop that pretty question right now, baby" would highlight this thing I imagine they have, where Hange wants something and Levi pretends to hate them, but really, he'd topple empires to give it to them (given that it doesn't conflict with his morals). It also mirrors that line Hange said to Armin when he became commander: "Also, Levi is your subordinate now, so manhandle him as you will." I have no doubt that Hange teased Levi about their new ranking differences. For them, the sole saving grace of being promoted to commander was bossing Levi around.

So yeah, I really have a new appreciation for this song after an analysis on it.

[xabiramone]

Happy birthday to the late Louis Leo Prima (December 7, 1910 – August 24, 1978) was an American singer, songwriter, bandleader, and trumpeter. While rooted in New Orleans jazz, swing music, and jump blues, Prima touched on various genres throughout his career: he formed a seven-piece New Orleans-style jazz band in the late 1920s, fronted a swing combo in the 1930s and a big band group in the 1940s, helped to popularize jump blues in the late 1940s and early to mid 1950s, and performed frequently as a Vegas lounge act beginning in the 1950s.🎂

[jazzandother-blog]

KIND OF BLUE

here is, listen

(English / Español / Italiano)

On March 2, 1959, at 2:30 in the afternoon, a group of musicians entered an old church on 30th Street in New York that the Columbia record company had converted into a recording studio thanks to the special sonority of the place. The musicians belonged to the sextet of Miles Davis, trumpeter and composer extraordinaire, a cornerstone of modern jazz. The first to arrive was drummer Jimmy Cobb, who calmly and carefully set up his drum kit. Soon after, bassist Paul Chambers, saxophonists Cannonball Adderley and John Coltrane, pianists Bill Evans, who no longer belonged to the sextet but would record on this album, and Wynton Kelly arrived. Finally, Miles, the leader of the group. Without even knowing it, this first session and the second recorded on April 22 would become fundamental in the history of both jazz and music. The product of those two days would be called Kind of Blue and was released on August 17 of the same year.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

El 2 de marzo de 1959, a las dos y media de la tarde, un grupo de músicos entraron a una antigua iglesia en la calle 30 de Nueva York que la compañía discográfica Columbia había convertido en estudio de grabación gracias a la sonoridad especial que tenía el lugar.Los músicos pertenecían al sexteto de Miles Davis, trompetista y compositor extraordinario, piedra angular del jazz moderno. El primero en llegar fue el baterista Jimmy Cobb quien con tranquilidad y esmero montó su batería. Poco después llegarían el bajista Paul Chambers, los saxofonistas Cannonball Adderley y John Coltrane, los pianistas Bill Evans, quien ya no pertenecía al sexteto pero que grabaría en este disco, y Wynton Kelly. Finalmente, Miles, el líder del grupo. Sin siquiera saberlo, esta primera sesión y la segunda grabada el 22 de abril se volverían fundamental tanto en la historia del jazz como de la música. El producto de ese par de días se llamaría Kind of Blue y salió a la venta el 17 de agosto del mismo año.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Il 2 marzo 1959, alle due e mezza del pomeriggio, un gruppo di musicisti entrò in una vecchia chiesa della 30ª strada a New York che la casa discografica Columbia aveva trasformato in studio di registrazione grazie alla particolare sonorità del luogo. I musicisti appartenevano al sestetto di Miles Davis, trombettista e compositore straordinario, pietra miliare del jazz moderno. Il primo ad arrivare fu il batterista Jimmy Cobb, che con calma e attenzione sistemò la sua batteria. Subito dopo arrivarono il bassista Paul Chambers, i sassofonisti Cannonball Adderley e John Coltrane, i pianisti Bill Evans, che non faceva più parte del sestetto ma che avrebbe registrato su questo album, e Wynton Kelly. Infine, Miles, il leader del gruppo. Senza nemmeno saperlo, questa prima sessione e la seconda registrata il 22 aprile sarebbero diventate fondamentali nella storia del jazz e della musica. Il prodotto di quei due giorni si sarebbe chiamato Kind of Blue e sarebbe stato pubblicato il 17 agosto dello stesso anno.

Fuente: Pasión por el Jazz y Blues

[cru3lfools]

LIQUID DREAMS

Roman Roy x f!oc

✷

Liquid Dreams.

( prelude.)           Prima- 

Donna 

2004, age: 16

Marigold Greene sighed bordley as the music continued to play louder and louder as all the teens around her were jumping around and dancing with drinks in their hands that splashed on the floor, she stood lonely in the corner the entire time waiting for something, or someone. She didn't know what or who but she knew then she didn't like being alone while everyone else was enjoying their time.

After people kept closing up on her without noticing she quickly changed her spot to the large kitchen which was dirty with red solo cups everywhere and a bag of chips being opened but not finished, it smelled weird and sweet but she didn't care as she poured herself whatever mystery juice was in the large crystal bowl which was obviously not one for drinks but for decor, as she took slow silent sips Roman Roy made his presence known as he ran into the kitchen immediately with a large smile on his face as his cousin Gregory Hirsch followed behind with a nervous look on his face.

There were other people as well in the kitchen but they were all taking and not giving a second glance at Roman who roughly and messily began pouring himself a drink and getting his t-shirt all wet, he hadn't noticed Marigold then and she was utterly grateful.

" Oh fuck! " Roman groaned as the gray shirt had a purple stain and was sticking uncomfortably on his pale skin.

He turned around to get tissues and finally noticed Marigold Greene sitting on the counter with the tissues right beside her, she hid half her face with the red cup and kept her eyes on Roman as he did the same.

A smirk curled up at his lips as he looked her up and down and looked around to see if anyone was with her, nobody ever was, expect for his sister Veronica who would talk to her from time to time.

" Oh well hi there Goldie, " Roman playfully said as he neared the blonde girl who began fidgeting with her nails as she kept her head down, " Didn't know anyone invited your psycho ass to party's like these. " he then came closer and began taking some of the napkins in the small thin plastic bag. 

" Your sister did. " 

Roman looked up and was a bit shocked she replied to him considering marigold never even glanced at him as he would make fun of her with the rest of the school. Roman was like an old lady at church who just loved to gossip, he loved spreading rumors about marigold for whatever reason, no one knew why but they all seemed to believe it because why not. The only time anyone at school liked hanging out with Roman Roy is when he would joke around mercilessly about Marigold Greene.

" Why the fuck would Shiv invite you? "

" Your other sister you dumb fuck. " she simply said as Roman widened his eyes while Greg did a whistle which didn't turn out as smooth as he thought it would, he wiped his mouth quick as some spit came out and Marigold and Roman just looked at Greg for a few seconds before returning to a silent and long small talk that later Roman left her with a grin as he reminded her she was still alone.

Marigold was weak, one insult and she'd explode, but never in public. 

Teenagers are ruthless when it comes to someone showing any signs of anger or sadness, they'd be quick to banter about them before leaving them with a broken and sorrow heart.

Marigold couldn't bare the thought of crying in front of everyone as they crowded her at school, she'd just tighten her grip on the hem of her dark green school skirt and walk the other way 

 as their laughs echoed through the wide dark school halls.

The Greene girl ended up leaving the party as she glanced at Roman who was talking to both his sisters who were with their group of friends, she felt a burning pain of jealousy wash over her as she watched them all laughing and not having to worry of being made fun of every day or hoping not to get into trouble with others. 

She left and walked back home and made sure to take the longest way in hopes of coming home she'd find her dreadful mother asleep and blacked out.

She was lucky enough to see her mother laying limply on the large floral yet uncomfortable couch while the tv loudly played the famous movie ' Scarface'.

She smiled softly at the sight of Elvira Hancock, the main character, looking absolutely stunning in her dark turquoise silk dress with her smooth pale yet slightly pink back showing, Marigold thought in those few silent minutes what it would be like to walk around in an all classy place with such a beautiful dress.

She looked down at her mother and back at the old TV, soon she blacked out as she began dreaming of the life she'd never have, a life she'd day dream about as she stared out the window while her whole class talks, a dream that seemed so impossible she wanted it even more.

Rest of the story on wattpad

cruelfools

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

🔸December 21, 1974 – Melody Maker

Freddie Mercury: Queen Bee

by Caroline Coon

THERE’S nothing like a dearth of hero-stars to make a media industry writhe with despondency. Film moguls, unable to find successors to Monroe and Gable, are making a cult of anti-stars. But the pop industry needs the potent elixir, the excitement of using honest superlatives to sear through the blood, lifting the spirits. And pop scribes, like damp, weary pilgrims waiting for the dawn, have been aching to crown a new hero.

Then, just when the prognosis looked direst, with a dazzling whoooosh, darlings, up popped Freddie Mercury.

Suddenly we’ve discovered in our midst an exotic prancer, a quixotic chancer, an electronic Elgar who has penned some of the gaudiest, soaring rock and roll anthems to be heard in a decade.

Freddie, known for his meticulous attention to detail, couldn’t have planned his heir apparency better. He’s paid his dues. With Queen (Brian May — guitar, John Deacon — bass, Roger Taylor — drums) he’s had four years to survey the scene and build up the frenzied grass-roots following which left him impervious to the lack of affection in other quarters. However, with the delivery of Sheer Heart Attack, all the vehement dampeners with which critics received Queen’s two previous offerings have turned to outpourings of unrestrained enthusiasm.

Freddie’s wearing tight oyster grey satin pants, an antique market cream satin blouse and a scarlet velvet Victorian bed jacket. His hair is cormorant black, he flashes ebony eyes and his smile reveals a row of pearly white teeth which look ready to plunge into a meal of little girl burgers. He’s tapping the carpet with one white boot, the tabletop with a pen and for a moment I wonder anxiously whether I’m facing an irked prima donna. But “no, Mercury isn’t my real name, dear. I changed it from Pluto,” Freddie jibes. His gentle, deadpan camperie breaks the ice.

When you first formed Queen, did you aim pretty high, I asked. “That’s it. The whole group aimed for the top slot. We’re not going to be content with anything less. That’s what we’re striving for. It’s got to be there. I definitely know we’ve got it in the music, we’re original enough… and, now we’re proving it,” said Freddie, being uncharacteristically forceful.

You must have had a lot of self confidence? “You have to have confidence in this business. It’s USELESS saying you don’t need it. If you start saying to yourself ‘maybe I’m not good enough, maybe I’d better settle for second place,’ it’s no good. If you like the icing on the top, you’ve got to have confidence. I was a precocious child. My parents thought boarding school would do me good so they sent me to one when I was seven, dear. I look back on it and I think it was marvellous. You learn to look after yourself and it taught me to have responsibility.”

Your background is quite affluent then? “No it wasn’t as affluent as people think. It was middle-class. But I suppose I gave the appearance of being affluent. I love that. I still do. It’s all part of how you feel and how you project yourself.”

Freddie left boarding school when he was 16. He studied classical piano, to Grade 4, but being an arty lad, his parents encouraged him to develop this creative talent. “I went to Ealing Art School a year after Peter Townshend left. Music was a sideline to everything we did. The school was a breeding ground for musicians. I listened to Hendrix, really. I got my diploma and then I thought I’d chance it as a freelance artist. I tried. I did it for a couple of months, but I’d done it for so long I thought ‘my God, I’ve done enough.’ The interest wasn’t there. And the music thing just grew and grew. Finally I said ‘right, I’m taking the plunge, it’s music.’ I’m one of those people believes in doing those things which interest you. Music is so interesting, dear.”

Were you always a bit of a performer? “Well, on stage I just click. To be honest, performing comes quite easily realty. It doesn’t take me that much. I mean, I know it sounds conceited and there are a lot of setbacks and a lot of strains and nerves, but not nearly as much as there used to be. Now we are a headline band we know people have come to see us. Being support is one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.”

Yes, it seems as it the strain took its toll. Brian dropped out of the first American tour with hepatitis and Freddie was plagued with boils. “I tell you, I feel the after-effects of touring. We finished the British tour last night and I feel as if I’ve done a marathon every night. I’ve got bruises everywhere. Because it’s the music that matters, you’ve got to make sure there are key people around you, taking care of you.”

And now, what about the spectre of your success? Does it loom before you and keep you awake at night? “Quite often I have quite vicious nightmares — like the other night just before the Rainbow concert. We were sleeping in the Holiday Inn and I dreamed I went out on to the hotel balcony and the whole thing fell and I was a heap on the pavement. Really I was petrified when I woke up in the morning. And Roger has this nightmare where he’s drinking a bottle of Coke and the bottle smashes and he has broken glass all the way down his system. Ridiculous sort of things like that are caused by the tension which builds up.”

With all the energy you’re going to be putting into touring in Europe and America in the next few months, are you going to find the time to write? “Well, I don’t ever really sit down at the piano and say ‘right, I’ve got to write a song now.’ I feel a few things and I have ideas. It’s very hard to explain but there are always various ideas going through my head. ‘Killer Queen’ was one song which was really out of the format that I usually write in. Usually the music comes first, but the words came to me, and the sophisticated style that I wanted to put across in the song, came first. No, I’d never really met a woman like that. A lot of my songs are fantasy. I can dream up all kinds of things. That’s the kind of world I live in. It’s very sort of flamboyant, and that’s the kind of way I write. I love it.

“You don’t need money to give an air of being… ” he pauses, as if he’s afraid of revealing too much about himself. “I don’t know — sort of extreme. The showbiz thing of walking into a room and making sure that people know you’re there. I love being able to let myself go at times. The ideal thing for a group that is successful is to churn out more of the formula that worked. But we want to progress in our own terms.”

Will you have to take time off to write new songs? “It depends. Nobody knew we were going to be told we had two weeks to write Sheer Heart Attack. And we had too — it was only thing we could do. Brian was in hospital.”

What do you feel like under that kind of pressure? “Well, ‘Killer Queen’ I wrote in one night. I’m not being conceited or anything, but it just fell into place. Certain songs do. Now, ‘March Of The Black Queen’, that took ages. I had to give it everything, to be self indulgent or whatever. But with ‘Killer Queen’, I scribbled down the words in the dark one Saturday night and the next morning I got them all together and I worked all day Sunday and that was it. I’d got it. It gelled. It was great. Certain things Just come together, but other things you have to work for. The whole band is very particular. We don’t go in for half measures and I’m very hard with myself. There’re no compromises. If I thought a song wasn’t quite right, I’d discard it. I’m very intricate and delicate. You can see that in my paintings. I love painters like Richard Dadd, Mucha and Dali, and I love Arthur Rackham.”

You’re on the way to being a huge androgynous sex symbol. What does it feel like to know that there are thousand’s of lads and lassies out there who want a piece of you for themselves? “It’s a great feeling. I play on the bisexual thing because it’s something else, it’s fun. But I don’t put on the show because I feel I have to and the last thing I want to do is give people an idea of exactly who I am. I want people to work out their own interpretation of me and my image. I don’t want to build a frame around myself and say ‘this is what I am’ or ‘this is all I am.’

“To be honest. I’d like people to think there, is no falsity in me, because what I do is really my character. But I think mystique, not knowing the truth about someone, is very appealing. I’d be doing myself an injustice if I didn’t wear make-up because some people think it’s wrong. Even to talk about being gay used to be obnoxious and unheard of. But gone are those days. There’s a lot of freedom today and you can put yourself across anyway you want to. But I haven’t CHOSEN this image. I’m myself and in fact half the time I let the wind take me.

“I don’t go out to have very gay company but, I tell you, in this business it’s very hard to find friends — to have loyal friends and to keep them. Among my friends are a lot of gay people and a lot of girls and a lot of OLD men. The man I have as a chauffeur — we’ve, built up such a bond, it’s a kind of love, and I don’t care what people think about it. Putting people in different categories is unfair. You have to judge people on what they are.”

What kind of person are you? “How do you expect me to answer a question like that, dear! There are various aspects of me. The thing I treasure most, above music, is meeting people. I like being sociable, going out to functions and things and, generally, I’m likeable I think. But I can change and be very moody and obnoxious. I’m a sort of chameleon. Success is teaching me a lot of things and I’m adapting. You’ve got to learn to come up with decisions very quickly. There’s no beating about the bush in this business.”

Do you think you’re in control of the success trip? “We’re going to try to control it as much as we can. You’ve got to make sure that you don’t ever admit to yourself that this is your peak. If you admit to yourself that this your peak, then you’re on the way down. I really feel that we have so much more to offer. There’s masses waiting in store that we can give.”

How do you feel about the superstar label? “Honestly, labels like that are touch and go with us. We’ve been labelled so many different things and labels are as bad as they are good. If you took labels seriously, you’d be very silly. We were labelled ‘hype’ in the early days. We took offence, but we didn’t take it seriously because we knew what we were about.”

You told me earlier that you love affluence. Now that you’re on the way to becoming a very rich man, what are you going to do with your money?

“Spend it, my dear. I’m the one member of the band for whom money isn’t very endearing. I’m the one who spends it straight off. It just goes. On clothes and I like nice things around me.”

Pic: 1974 - Freddie Mercury posing