#sasha flute

[benschiff]

[supercantaloupe]

ive never gone to see an opera live in europe let alone one outside of a major theater that regularly records and broadcasts their productions so grain of salt etc but i think there's some kind of distinct cultural difference between how european companies do "reimagined" productions of operas vs how american companies do it

[stormlit]

sasha thinks she's stupid. and while she's not particularly academically inclined, and is a little oblivious, she's far from it. but it really all stems from two main things in her formative years that stick with her now into adulthood. one is that she's from an incredibly high achieving, academic family, where everyone is a doctor, lawyer, university professor, or some similar profession requiring years of study. university is mandatory, doing well in school is mandatory, and her parents pushed and pushed both their kids, sasha constantly knowing she wasn't living up to her big sister's ability. sasha was always more arts-leaning, and while she was allowed to take music lessons (and a good thing too; music was her best subject in her secondary school exams and was part of the reason she got into uni at all), it was always made clear that it was a secondary tier subject, good for looking good rather than a career path.

but even when sasha tried, school just wasn't the right learning environment for her, and when her best wasn't good enough, she slowly stopped trying in a majority of her subjects. like, she was going to get yelled at/grounded anyway. and it would have been so different if her parents had cared why she was struggling, but if they ever considered whether she had ADHD or dyslexia, they certainly didn't want her labelled. getting diagnosed ADHD changed her life, but it was too late for her education. and they didn't want to focus on her depression/anxiety either, they didn't want to focus on how bullied she was. in the riley house it was all just more things that were sasha's fault, for sasha to fix, and if she didn't it was because she wasn't smart enough to work through challenges. she just doesn't learn in the school-taught way, but she doesn't know that.

but she is smart. she can pick up almost any instrument she tries. she can hear a song once and be able to play it without needing sheet music. she understands music theory, she knows how to compose, she's a decent lyricist. she understands the technical aspects of music production and how studio equipment works. she's a genuinely good photographer who understands composition and lighting and even just how to use her camera properly, how to edit without going overboard. but because it's arts and not academics, because she doesn't enjoy reading much, because she grew up as the stupid one, she doesn't believe it. and nobody has told her otherwise. if they did, she probably wouldn't believe it anyway (but they should still try).

[the-desilittle-bird]

AN - Writing for our dear Sasha for the very first time. And so I kind of decided to start with headcanons. Hope you all like it.

Requests are open and well appreciated!

Thank you and have a great read.

Being a Princess and Meeting The Darkling

Warnings - Scheming Aleksander for a while.

GIF Credits to @inknopewetrust

You were the middle child of the Tsar and the Tsaritsa. Which means you were older than Nikolai and technically, second in line to the throne. But you never wanted to be a Queen, you just thought you weren’t meant to be.

At the age of 15, you were sent away from the capital to complete your education and learn about politics and what not.

You were a bright student, as the educators complimented, and a quick learner.

Years outside and relatively alone, you understood the world more closely, learning and watching from the shadows as Grisha were discriminated. They were Grisha, never Ravkans; something you didn’t like.

On your 18th birthday, you were summoned back to the court, to pick up on your duties as a princess.

Despite your lack of interest in politics, you forced pleaded your father to give you a seat on his Royal Council, the very place where all his decisions were taken.

The court was enthusiastic, spreading word of your arrival and speculating all and everything days before you arrived.

“I have heard that the princess has a big nose.”

“No, I have heard she has became quite the beauty.”

“She is stupid, they say.”

“Are you out of your mind? Everyone is aware that the princess is a bright learner.”

“She supports Grisha, or so I have heard.”

While Aleksander met most of the gossips with a straight face and a neutral, if not dismissive approach, he was taken aback by the last of it. To know that the princess supposedly supported as well as sympathised with his people.

But he remains quiet, carrying on his duties as the General of the Second Army.

The day you arrived in the Grand Palace was a day of a grand feast. The Queen and King wished to welcome their only daughter with the fanciest feast of the year.

You were never fond of feasts and grand dinners your family hosted but as the feast was kept in your honour, you put on your best smile and mingled with a flute of champagne in your hand.

That was when you first met the Black General— the infamous Darkling.

You found him intriguingly handsome and equally mysterious. A combination that had your stomach at unrest, but in the most pleasant manner.

A polite conversation began, which might have started from your studies and your experience outside of Os Alta but ended with you both agreeing to your common ideas about Grisha.

“I believe that Grisha should also be given as much respect as any other First Army officer.”

“Much few think that, moya tsarvena.”

“Then surely they don’t understand what your people contribute to Ravka.”

Turns out, you were more kind hearted than the rest of the Lantsov Family, a revelation that had Aleksander taking a deep breath.

He found you beautiful but equally smart and confident. And saw what could be his chance to usurp the throne.

A perfect plan started weaving in his mind. Seduce you; make you fall in love with him; ask the king to marry you both. Now that would be a slightly tricky part, given the Tsar’s hatred towards Grisha. But if he did say anything against the union, rumours could be easily planted in the common people. A story of true and pure love that the King opposed. Being married to you would make him a prince, that would mean that he would have an unsaid claim to the throne. Then he only needed to stage an assassination of your entire family, minus you of course. With all the Lantsov dead except you, you would ascend the throne with him by your side.

With a classic plan set, he had asked you for a dance, which turned into another and then another while words flowed smoothly between you two.

“I hadn’t took you for a dancer, moi soverenyi.”

(Chuckles) “It is not the best of my traits.”

“Well, I would like to disagree.”

At the end of the feast, you realised that you had spent most of your time with the Darkling, something that did not go unnoticed by the courtiers.

“The princess has been by the Darkling’s side throughout the feast.”

“Do you think he has worked his magic on her?”

“She does not know what she is getting into. Meddling with him is never safe.”

But you didn’t care, at least not for that night in particular.

You bid each other good night, and much to your surprise, he pressed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, making you flush red.

“It was lovely to make your acquaintance, my princess. I hope to be in your presence more often.”

Aleksander lay in his bed that night, restless and his mind evaded with you.

Your smile, your kindness, your eyes, your confidence. Everything had made him wish to acquaint himself and his plan had faded into the background for brief moments that lasted too long.

In the darkness of his room, with his shadows looming high in the corners, he found himself pondering upon you which lead to him asking himself:

Have I fallen for the princess?

The idea frightens him. The thought that someone could have more power upon him. Especially that someone being a mortal; an otkazat’sya. That someone being You.

“What have you done to me?” He groaned quietly, his dark eyes staring into the shadows of his room. All while his mind pictured you beside him, clad in a dark nightwear, sleeping soundly.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Moonwood: Part 6

<< Part One

Steve is worried Billy Hargrove may be his soulmate. It consumes his thoughts, and yet he still hasn’t figured out a way forward by the time the bonfire starts. He tries to convince himself that his suspicions are wrong - that maybe he's panicking over nothing and the reason he can't stop thinking about Billy is like pink elephants. The harder he tries not to think about Billy the more he's going to.

Maybe they're not soulmates and Steve is just freaking himself out over a few coincidences. They do go to the same school. Of course they bump into each other. It doesn't have to mean there’s some cosmic influence behind it. Right? The trouble is he has no idea how to go about checking either way. 

He can't just go up and ask Billy - Hey are we soulmates? But the bonfire arrives, the streets fill up with parked cars as people from the neighboring towns flood in and join the families from Moonwood as they amble their way up the trail that leads to the old ranger station at the top of the bluff; and that’s still the best plan Steve’s got. 

Steve trails a step behind his family, bracing himself for the night ahead. If he’s wrong about Billy - which he probably is - and Hargrove decks him, there will be plenty of people around to witness his humiliation.

Some of his worry fades to the background as he takes it all in. The fire built high on a pyre behind a large stone slab that reminds him of that rock in the Lion King. The rich smells of roasting meat hanging heavy in the air from people roasting dogs and turning over kabobs. The sound of many voices raised in conversation, pierced by the occasional shriek of laughter from over excited children, their faces painted with half moons and strange symbols.

A little girl runs past them up the hill with big fluffy wolf ears stitched to her headband and a muzzle painted on her face. Colorful banners decorated with stars and moons, along with paper lanterns have been strung between the tree branches in a wide circle around the gathering. Steve’s nose itches the closer they get because there’s a strange smell emanating from them: minty and sort of green.

He stops just before the ring of lights, uneasy, but his family continues on oblivious to the feeling of unease that suddenly grips him. A few strides ahead his mom seems to sense he’s no longer just behind them and looks back, the concern on her brow melting into a teasing smile as she comes back to take his hand and guide him into the circle.

“Wolfsbane: for the humans.” She whispers in his ear with an apologetic smile. He’s still not used to the idea of them not being entirely human. 

“Even just the vapor is enough to drain our strength, but it doesn’t hurt us.”

He relaxes a little after hearing that, the proof of her words all around him. It’s just like Sasha and the girls said it would be. Like a music festival and a county fair had a baby. Everywhere he looks people are clustered together talking, laughing. A large group of elementary school aged kids are engaged in a tug-of-war contest. Everybody’s having a good time so Steve tries to relax and do the same.

There's a band of sorts with a bunch of people playing guitars, handrums, and some weird elongated flute thing that sounds sultry to his ears and makes him want to dance. He settles for sorta swaying a little bit as he shifts his weight around, only half listening to the conversations going on around him as his family chats with their neighbors about mundane things. Steve’s attention keeps drifting back to Billy Hargrove and the possibility that they might be soulmates.

His grandfather said that he’d know his soulmate when he met him. Them. There’s no reason to assume his soulmate is a boy after all but Steve realizes that he has definitely been picturing a guy since the concept became real to him, despite the fact that he’s never even been with one before.  He doesn’t count the sloppy kisses at parties or the handjob that guy from Minnesota gave him on the beach over the summer. That was just fooling around. The kind of shit everyone gets up to sometimes when they’ve had enough drinks and the feeling is right. 

The weird thing is: Steve’s only ever seriously been with girls, yet he can’t drum up the face of a single one just then strong enough to drive out thoughts of Billy Hargrove. Billy’s sharp smile full of teeth, and his even sharper blue eyes. Billy’s freckled cheeks and dark spiky eyelashes. Billy’s long torso and thick legs, body roped with muscle, standing a head taller than all the townie boys - because he’s not like them. Not normal.

But well neither is Steve, and holy shit. Steve wonders when he got so turned on by Billy Hargrove, cause he’s half hard in his jeans and in danger of embarrassing himself in front of his mother’s friends. Like she can read his mind Steve’s mom darts a look at him, and gives him a worried look. He shoots her a reassuring smile before excusing himself to go and find his friends from school.

Despite the fact that people seem to be clumping together in groups and sticking to them there’s still so many people packed onto the hill that it’s difficult to find anyone easily. Steve’s feet carry him through the trees. They carry him around families clustered together on picnic blankets and camp chairs, and through a thick crowd of teens that have gathered around something on the northwest side of the firepit. 

Soulmates can always find each other, which is why Steve’s feet carry him right to where Billy Hargrove sits in the center of the trunk of a massive broken tree, feet dangling above the thick roots tangled at the base with a cigarette in his mouth. 

Billy is the something the other teens have gathered around, and Steve doesn’t blame them one bit. Under the setting sun with the fire’s glow red and gold against his skin Billy looks like something not of this world - a fairy king, watching his subjects as they dance and make fools of themselves for his entertainment.

Steve’s mouth goes dry as two things crystalize in his mind. One: Billy’s unfairly hot. He’s struck by the sudden desire to weave flowers through Billy’s hair, shove his hands down Billy’s pants, his tongue down his throat, and raise his babies - in that order. 

Two: Billy is most definitely his soulmate which probably explains both why Steve feels that way, and why he’s felt that way from the moment he first laid eyes on him. He just didn’t realize it. He feels like a giant idiot now for needing his grandfather to spell it out for him. Because who needs their grandpa to explain what a crush feels like at freaking eighteen?! 

It helps a little when he remembers that it’s not just a crush he feels for Billy - supposedly they’re it for each other. The deepest kind of love there is. And Steve’s never felt the kinda love his grandpa described until now. 

But he wants to. Boy does he want to. Steve’s chest feels tight and it feels like there are hands around his throat as he sucks in a breath, but he starts walking forward again - because there’s something inside of him that wants to be Billy’s everything as much as it wants to give Billy everything. He’s used to giving people his whole heart, but no one has ever given it back. 

He feels a little guilty having such thoughts because he knows his mom loves him, and that she’s always tried her best. It just wasn’t enough…

But all of that is in the past. Where he’s going now - Billy - that’s the future. That’s everything.

Only before Steve can get there, one of the guys hanging around Billy sees him coming and nudges Chet. By the time Steve reaches the stump, half the basketball team has formed a wall in front of it. Steve swallows. He’s already accepted the truth, and he’s pretty used to how much bigger people in Moonwood are, but there’s something about having five guys all over six feet tall leering down at him with teeth filled smiles that drives the point home. These guys are wolves.

“Well look who it is!” one of the guys calls out, and the people who have been dancing and chatting nearby stop what they’re doing to look.

“Uh-hey guys.” Steve greets with a small two fingered wave to break the tension, and also because he’d rather control the conversation than see just what might be inspiring the hungry gleam in the eyes of the literal ‘pack of wolves’ standing between him and his soulmate. They’re Billy’s pack… which on a fundamental level he’s always known, but it certainly brings basketball tryouts into sharper focus now. There’s no getting on the team, no getting close to Billy, without going through them.

“Is that you Harrington?!” Billy calls from his seat up on the stump, grinning over their heads at Steve, which is how Steve knows he’s fucking lying when he says. “I can barely see you. Try standing on something.”

Everyone within hearing distance laughs like his height is just hilarious, way more than the joke actually warrants but Steve blames the red cups in their hands. 

“Very funny asshole,” Steve grumbles. Then realizes he probably shouldn’t call his soulmate an asshole - oops - and moderates his tone to something less pissy. “Listen, I need to talk to you.”

A chorus of ‘oos’ go around the crowd of teens and Billy’s friend Dave leans on Chet’s shoulder and smirks as he taunts, “He can hear you just fine.”

“Where’s your pack Steve?” Chet asks, in a slightly friendlier tone, but it doesn’t sound like a real question. It sounds like he’s asking Steve why he bothered to come at all, which is confusing to say the least. They’re not buddies or anything but Chet has always been cool with him and he stuck up for Steve when those other guys tried to bully him.

“Yeah, pretty sure you can all hear me.” Steve answers Dave before lifting his eyes back up to Billy. He hates that he has to lean forward on his toes a bit to do it, and he can’t quite keep the irritation out of his tone. 

“And my family’s back there.” He jerks his head in the general direction of where he came, “but I need to talk to you alone, Hargrove.”

He tries to impress with his eyes to Billy how important this is. But doubt begins to creep in. Shouldn’t Billy know what they have to talk about? If they’re true mates or whatever, Billy wouldn’t be such a jerk to him all the time. Would he?

Billy doesn’t acknowledge Steve asking to talk to him. He sucks on the cigarette between his teeth and lets the smoke lazyly before he drawls.

“The Dalca’s are good people. Funny they haven’t introduced you yet. I was starting to think I’d never see you at one of these.” 

Steve has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s been in town for months now and met plenty of people. His aunt and his grandparents seem to know everyone and they always stop him to make introductions. 

But clearly Steve’s missing something here because he knows the prying looks and sly smiles that the other teens are suddenly wearing - knows the feeling of being whispered about, and that this time it’s not for a good reason. 

“He’s not talking about saying hi at the grocery store, Steve.” someone comes up and starts to explain gently from behind Steve and he tenses, seeing the dark glare that clouds Billy’s features, before he turns and realizes that it’s just Hank.

“What’s going on? I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t.” Billy scoffs, and it stings like a slap. Hank shoots Billy a look that says clearly that Steve’s not the only one who thinks he’s being an asshole for no good reason.

“Bonfire nights have really old traditions. It’s mostly ceremony now but they started in the villages to keep people safe.” Hank goes on explaining. “One of them is that you stick with your people, and you don’t bother any of the other, uh clans,  unless you’ve been introduced to their leader… like officially.”

Now that he knows, Steve realizes how hard the other teen is trying not to say anything too incriminating.

“You mean like in a wolfy way?” Steve asks, and grins when Hank's mouth drops open.

“So you do know.” Billy’s voice growls, almost accusing, tearing Steve’s eyes away from the other boy and he shivers. 

“Hank here thought you were just afraid of moonlight.”

Billy scoffs, and Steve doesn’t know why Billy’s suddenly so angry, but he’s starting to regret not taking his family up on any of their invitations instead of bumming around with tourists all summer. Because he’s betting they would have spilled the truth before now and made all these ‘ceremonial’ introductions; but in his defense he didn’t exactly know what a big deal it was. He wasn’t trying to offend anyone. But it’s in the past now, and Steve’s not willing to give up on the future. Not just yet.

“Yeah. Hi. I’m Steve. I know what you are, and no I’m not afraid of moonlight.” Or anything else, he dares silently, holding Billy’s gaze. “So can we talk now, or what?”

|Part 7|

Friendly tags for those who have asked in the past:

@darleenjade @sweetwaterangel @dragonflylady77 @natchula @tip-tap-tired @sparklingsprinkles @adelacreations @bluetree76 @deadfromtheneckdown @heavensfinest @marklee-blackmore @slightlydepressedmelon @percabeth-trashcan @a-lovely-craziness

[fakecrfan]

Ranking TMA Characters Based on How Likely They Would Be To Be The One Dying of Tuberculosis in an Opera

Progressing from least to most likely, and roughly categorizing them into groups based on where they fall in the spectrum. Characters whose placement I’m uncertain of (Daisy and Basira) were left off the list. Categorizations and placements are open to discussion.

Type I: So Unlikely To Die of TB, In Fact, They Inject YOU with TB - Jude Perry, Peter Lukas, Gertrude Robinson. 

Type II: Way Too Normal To Fit Into Operatic Archetypes - Tim, Sasha, Georgie

Type III: Earnest Young Leading Man In Love With the One Who Dies of TB - Jonathan Sims, Jack Barnabas 

Type IV: Runs Around The Stage In A Bloodstained Dress, Waving A Knife Around and Having a Duet With An Imaginary Flute - Michael Shelley, Helen Richardson, Melanie King 

Type V: Gentle Soul Who Sings For 15 Minutes While Dying of TB Onstage In Their Lover’s Arms - Martin Blackwood, Agnes Montague, Gerard Keay

Type VI: Jonah Magnus - this is purely on technicality, given that at least two of his spare bodies died of TB for real at over the past 200 years. 

[mordenandmerry]

RANDOM TMA HEADCANONS BECAUSE I NEED TO SHARE (most about music because I’m a nerd):

- When they were kids, Martin and Jon met at a playground. Jon was probably sitting under the slide ready books like a loser and Martin came up to him and asked what he was reading. They started talking about books, but then after never saw each other again. They don’t realize until they talk about it later.

- Tim likes the Arctic Monkeys

- Melanie played flute but broke it by hitting someone with it.

- Georgie and Jon had a commentary channel back when they were dating.

- Martin played in a indie soft rock band as the bassist.

- Sasha was literally a god at Mario Kart.

- The archives staff realized they all like dnd and did a one shot. Occasionally, they would play together every so often, adding the new employees and stuff. They roped Elias into playing the dm, but Jon took over after the first session because Elias killed all of their characters immediately. Jon played a warlock in the first session, Martin played a druid, Tim played a bard, Sasha played a sorcerer, Melanie played a barbarian, Basira played a rogue, and Daisy played a paladin.

- Gerry has an extensive collection of all types of horror games.

- Martin and Jon would’ve played Stardew Valley together.

[reasoningdaily]

Lizzo Announces Scholarship for Black Music Students at Alma Mater: ‘I Get to Pay It Forward’

In honor of Juneteenth, the Grammy winner launched the Sasha Be Flooting music scholarship with a $50,000 donation

Lizzo launched the Sasha Be Flooting scholarship on Friday with a $50,000 donation, giving back to Black music students at the University of Houston, her alma mater.

“LIZZOS JUNETEENTH GIVEBACK IS PROUD TO PRESENT 50,000$ TO THE ‘SASHA BE FLOOTING SCHOLARSHIP’ AT THE UNIVERSITY OF HOUSTON,” Lizzo posted alongside a video announcing the scholarship. “Thank you to @universityofhouston for your partnership and support.”“Today is very close to my heart, near and dear to home and a milestone for me,” Lizzo shared in the video. “It is for any young Black student from Houston, Texas who has applied to go to University of Houston to study at the Moores School of Music,” the Grammy winner added. “That was me just a couple years ago, a young Black flute player who just needed a scholarship and someone to believe in them. Now I get to pay it forward.”

“We’ll be announcing who is the winner of that prize very, very soon,” she promised.

Trending

Prior to the scholarship launch, Lizzo posted a photo of her playing the flute with a temporary tattoo of the university’s cougar mascot on her cheek, and another more recent photo of her performing. “Meet Baby Lizzo on scholarship at the University of Houston hoping she’ll earn a music performance degree in flute,” she wrote in the caption. “Little did she know she’d change the conversation on flutes in pop culture forever.”

The Sasha Be Flooting scholarship is the fourth donation made in Lizzo’s Fourth Annual Juneteenth Giveback. The singer-songwriter has donated $50,000 to the Marsha P. Johnson Institute, Black Girls Smile, and the Sphinx Organization.

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

Okay here’s a textpost no one asked for about what instrument I think each of the 104th cadets would play in a concert band or orchestra with little to no explanation. I’ve been listening to a lot of concert and classical pieces lately and the brain rot got to me.

Eren- Trombone. He’s piss poor at the slides at first and he keeps hitting people in the head with it if you sit in the row in front of him.

Mikasa- First Chair Violin. Don’t try and get into the practice room, she already booked it.

Armin- Guitar/Bass. He either barely gets to play or he’s the focus of the piece. The only one who knows how to set up an amp or a microphone.

Jean- Saxophone. He feels himself a little too much when he has a solo.

Connie- Drums/Percussion. Thought he got assigned his instrument because he can’t sit still. Discovers swing rhythms in jazz and is actually quite good.

Sasha-Clarinet. Gets yelled at and kicked out when she ruins the piece with too many squeaks. Once tried to play with food in her mouth.

Historia-Harp. She’s the pretty one. Brings people to tears with how graceful she looks when she plays.

Ymir-Cello. Likes that she can manspread while she plays. Will elbow you if you sit next to her, mostly on purpose.

Marco- Flute. Not much explanation needed I feel like.

Annie- Piano. She practices almost as much as Mikasa. Prefers classical. Don’t ask her to be an accompanist, she doesn’t care enough about you to help out.

Bertholdt- French Horn. Will ask you where we are in the music when he inevitably zones out.

Reiner- Tuba. Always gets asked to move chairs onstage before the concert and shows off how many he can carry.

[edgessunflower]

Candles

Pairing: Bianca Belair x Fem reader x Bayley

Description: You and the girls find and get new fall scented candles

When Sasha told you that there were new candles for fall at Bath and body works in the mall you knew that you and the girls had to go and see just what these scents were on your shared day off together for the first time in a long while. The three of you decided to make a day out of the trip to the mall going to Spencer's and Hot Topic before hitting the Box Lunch where you got quite a few different shirts and beanies before the three of you found your main destination and that was the bath and body works, the first candle Bayley found was the traditional apple cider which she liked to have before Bianca found the first of many new scents starting with pumpkin pecan waffles and you found warm apple pie which you immediately fell in love with and so did the girls as you all found more new scents from autumn rain and spiced apple harvest to falling leaves, blankets under the stars, and sweet vanilla horchata each smell had the three of you even more relaxed and breathing deeper to keep the smell of each scent leading to the three of you leaving bath and body works with bags on each arm. Lunch between the three of you was shared in the food court with pizza and soda before leaving the mall and heading home immediately lighting blankets under the stars in the living room while watching tv for an hour before letting the scent linger then lighting autumn rain which had you melting on the couch between the girls as you all watched Nightmare before Christmas, after the movie dinner was shared while the scent of autumn rain lingered in the living room even after blowing the candle out and twenty minutes later all of you were doing your nightly routines before lighting sweet vanilla horchata that was a soothing non musical luallby for the three of you snuggled and molded together under the covers as Native american music ambience played on low volume that had the three of you asleep to the echoed flute music and the calm scent of vanilla flowing throughout the bedroom as you all slept soundly.

[supercantaloupe]

i heard livin it up on top (bway version of course) play on the radio tonight on my drive home. and while i am not going to turn this into yet another Opinion Piece about Which Version of the show is Best(tm) it did make me think about how often operas will be performed in different versions. the age old battle of prague vs vienna don giovanni (nevermind the fact that the current most common/popular production combined elements of both libretti) and italian vs french, four act vs five act don carlo(s), or magic flute productions which can look and act completely different from one another based on what recits are kept or cut or translated loosely or rewritten entirely. for several reasons of course i don't see musicals doing the same type of thing Any time soon but it would be interesting indeed if they did

[alldancersaretalented]

Some Dancers' Choreography for y'all! Let me know who I should do next :)

Selena Hamilton

Mother Of The House - Pave

Pop, Drop and Roll - Everleigh Soutas, Pave

Telephone - Regan Gerena, Project 21

Women - Anya Inger, Project 21

??? - Inspirantions Dance

Perris Amento

Don't You Cry For Me - Inspirations Dance

??? - Jasmine Cortez, Inspiration Dance

Lament - Delilah Hewitt, Project 21

Hey Boy - Chloe Mirabel, Project 21

Angels - Charlotte Watters, Project 21

Dyllan Blackburn

Lady Marmelade - Avery Olsen, OCPAA

Kiarra Waidelich

Wanted - Addison Price, The Rock

Django - Kennedy Blazek, The Rock

No Light, No Light - Alexis Mayer, The Rock

Lost - Athena Pacheco, The Rock

I'm In Here - Athena Pacheco, The Rock

Silence - Sasha Milstein, The Rock

I feel Nothing - Tiara Sherman, The Rock

No Choir - Esme Chou, Project 21

Crystal Huang

Through Dark and Light - Melina Blitz- Rock

Brady Farrar

Für Elise - Kya Massimino, Stars

Scherzo - Kya Massimino, Michael Savio, Stars

Distressed Endearment - Callaghan Johnson, Stars

Effervescent - Ayla Flowers, City Dance

Flute de Faune - Mikaela Cameron, A &A Ballet

??? - Lillian OMara, A & A Ballet

Changes - Ava Zisko, West Point Ballet

Ellary Day Szyndlar

Tears of an Angel -Sylvie Win Szyndlar, Club

Destanye Diaz

??? - Zoe Flores, Stars

What I Want To Say - Lili Veziroglu

Ruby Castro

Solice - Sophia Gil, Dance Town

Film Credit - Sophia Gil, Dance Town

Transforming - Sophia Gil, Dance Town

??? - Carmen Beiner, Dance Town

What is Love - Carmen Beiner, Dance Town

??? - Carmen Beiner, Dance Town

Written In The Sky - Kaitlyn Santos, Dance Town

Hymn Of The Win - Sophia Novo, Dance Town

??? - Arden Auerbach, Dance Explosion

ChaCha Heels - Arianna Amador, Southern Strutt

Black And Gold - Alexa, Dance Town

[rcsplendent]

open  starter. location  :  the  kitchens.        time  :  just  after  midnight.

perhaps it's his years of military training, or maybe it's his countless past experiences with absolute chaos — either way, sasha is completely unfazed by the whole of it. spooked at first, sure — he'd ducked under a table at the first explosion and hid there until the dust settled — but once he'd come out, he'd felt that urge again, that itch in his fingertips that, despite his best efforts, continues to guide him through life. he'd noticed the entrance to the kitchens unguarded: an opportunity, & a rare one at that. interest piqued, he'd slipped through undetected ( or so he'd thought ) to find the place in shambles — silverware scattered across the floor, pots & pans abandoned on still-lit stoves, food discarded by terrified cooks, broken glass where servants had dropped entire trays of champagne flutes. taking in the sight & decidedly unmoved by it, sasha starts picking through the rubble, inspecting a particularly shiny teaspoon before he pockets it. it's then that he senses a presence, and he whirls around smoothly, looking annoyed with having been interrupted — half-lidded eyes glancing over his new company through mottled eyelashes. " what are you looking at? "

[elixir]

Flutes (Sasha Remix) by Hot Chip

[pricklypearflowers]

Have some thoughts on ant 🐜.

-He’s def suffering from catholic guilt.

-Wondering if he’ll be bi, pan, or gay (I personally hc him as bi)

-He’s in like the school band/orchestra and either plays the flute or clarinet (bet he loves lizzo 💕)

-He seems to be less ok with spider’s comments throughout the season.

-Feel like he has a really kind heart.

-He seems to be the only one truly feeling remorse for spreading the rumor about amerie and ms obah.

-Ant gave spider and Dusty the idea for the band name “Renaissance Titties” in SLT’s when jojo was trying to teach them about the dangers of sending nudes. Sasha said “people have been sharing naked pictures since the dawn of time. For example cave paintings, art-” and is then cut off by Ant shouting “RENAISSANCE TITTIES” and Dusty and Spider have an aha moment.

-Where Spider is kind of like just a bully I think ant is secretly a softy and very kind but just gets dragged into his friends shit.

-I feel like a good prediction to make is that Ant might distance himself from Dusty and spider next season. They keep getting him in trouble like detention for stopping the fight between Malakai and Spider. He probably also got into trouble because of the protest and participating in the whole amerie and jojo situation. His ass is never leaving the church pews.

I def want to see more of ant next season

[jeanbie]

MOONLIGHT IN YOUR HANDS ★ masterlist.

pairing: eren x reader

genre: band kid / high school au | wc: 3.4k | ♬

⏤ Aged seventeen, now, and still in love with music and the people in your life in your high school's band club, you didn’t think you’d be able to share that love with anything- or anybody- else. Until you met Eren.

Falling in love was a scary thing.

With people, that means. There was something about love when attached to another person that was unbelievably unnerving, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that your parents were divorced and at least one person in your family had been cheated on, thank you very much! The pressure of ultimate commitment and trust was something you just couldn’t wrap your head around; what if you gave all of that love to somebody who’d throw it all away overnight?

When people told you that you only thought that way because you were young, barely fourteen and watching your friends get into those week-long romantic relationships over fruit loops and milk cartons at break time, you insisted that no, you knew best. You knew what love was like. Love was the way your parents had fought most of your childhood, screamed, cussed, broke some things. Love was finding out the person you gave everything to suddenly didn’t want it anymore.

Eventually, you grew up and realised that life was better and happier now that your mother had moved across the country with somebody else, and your Dad was finding love in his new job and learning how to play the guitar. Life was no longer a slash horror film, but instead the colourful opening of a Disney movie, the birds singing- and hey, maybe love wasn’t so bad. Love wasn’t just what you experienced with a partner, you discovered as you moved to high school and found that something in your chest hurt in that love-kinda-way when you joined band and made some of the best friendships you had ever had. Love was open and exciting, unpredictable and beyond kisses and hugs and hearts floating around your temples.

Love was the way you heard piano keys, or the sound of Mina and Sasha laughing as you entered the band-rooms during every free period you could possibly find. Love was the guitar strings between Sasha’s fingers, and the evenings around the campfire behind your house with the aforementioned duo and your father and his older stringed instrument, corny songs shared over the tamed embers. Aged seventeen, now, and still in love with music and the people in your life in your high school's band club, you didn’t think you’d be able to share that love with anything- or anybody- else. Until you met Eren.

A key member of the school’s baseball team and a surprisingly excellent singer, Eren was the type of person you saw in movies, the type of student everybody loved but didn’t touch. That had intimidated and confused you, when he strode into band club on a Tuesday evening after-school and spoke with the lead teacher Mrs Honey, who announced that Eren and a small handful of other, daresay “jocks”, would be joining the club for extra credit. You had stood there, appalled, in your shirt decorated in tiny crescent moons, afraid of the love you had for this club being destroyed by a bunch of sport-happy popular kids.

That was an incorrect judgement that you came to regret; Connie was an angel dressed as a devil, with a love for the sound of flutes and clarinets and apparently, a new close friend of both Sasha and Mina, respective woodwind players. And then there was the situation of Eren Jaeger, who caught your eye across the room a few days later, standing behind the group of new friends with an air of awkward discomfort- he had smiled softly, his eyes drooping with a gentle gaze and he had asked for your name and your instrument.

The first time your heart fluttered for something other than music, it was when Eren called out to you as he left to go home and smiled around the words, “Catch you later, moony.”

Two months later, and Sasha, Mina and Connie had banded together to form an interesting trio, inseparable save the baseball field where Connie spent Monday, Thursday and Saturday evenings. It genuinely hadn’t bothered you the way you had expected it to, not when Eren was there to fill the space vacant once they had left. It was still intimidating to know him, be his friend, be the weirdo he hung around with sometimes both inside band club and out. 

At first, you hadn’t expected it to last- he was only here for extra credit, and it wasn’t like he actually cared about the club or you, and the way he stared at you with a soft fondness when you talked about your Dad and what you did the night prior was definitely part of your imagination, right? To your absolute surprise and honestly, relief, you had returned to band after a short holiday break from school, expecting to find that those same jocks had now left but instead they were still there, waiting for the rest, part of the club with pride. And, there was Eren again, with that smile that made your stomach do funny things.

Over here, Moony, he had said, patting the seat beside him. Once seated, he had shifted to stare at you and grinned softly, pulling a little strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. It’s okay, he said, you’re allowed to be surprised to see me. You’re too cute when you’re trying to pretend like you don’t care. I like your hair, by the way.

So, yeah. It was no surprise that one month after that date, Eren had pushed himself up against your locker at the end of the day and smiled at you, saying something you had both dreaded and dreamed of: “Do you wanna go out sometime?”

Love was still scary, even two months into your relationship with Eren. He was unlike anything and anybody you had ever met before; when you arrived at school everyday, he was always with his usual group of popular friends, girls with expensive hairdos and painted nails and guys with nice cars and bodies. But as soon as he spotted you hopping out of your Dad’s car, his eyes would light up and he’d pull himself away from his friends, bounding to you within seconds of you standing on your own two feet next to your Dad’s pulled up car.

He’d smile and press little kisses to your hair and the side of your face, holding you from behind, looking up to say good morning to your Dad, who, as he pulled away heading for work, couldn’t be happier at the revelation that you were happy, and that love now didn’t mean what it had before. It was more than arguments and anger. Love was Eren and music and your friends with more Eren on the side.

Sure, people would question why he’d pick you over everyone else, because truth be told, there was nothing special about you, or at least not to them. But to Eren, you were the girl who talked about music like a lover, and treated the world kindly and fairly. To him, you were everything, and more.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen Whip It before.”

Presently, Eren sits on your bed pushed against the wall with an adoring smile on his face, a laugh leaving his mouth as you hastily pop open the DVD case and thrust it into the player.

“I haven’t seen a lot of movies,” Eren replies, leaning back to find comfort underneath your blankets.

It was a Friday evening, the sky outside bleeding out into vibrant pinks and deep purples, like bruises, nighttime approaching. Today would be the first time Eren has ever been allowed to stay around your house overnight; your Dad liked Eren, and thought he was what you needed and deserved, but he’s still a Dad, and he was hesitant. Eventually, after growing bored of the begging and hints, he just said yes to keep you quiet, sternly telling you that any ‘funny business’ would be heard through the walls and so, please, don’t do that. You didn’t think you were quite there yet with Eren, and he had never shown an interest in it. Sure, Eren would get touchy, risking a hand on your thigh or playfully holding your butt in a Sixteen Candles-esque fashion, and when you came to see him at games, his friends would definitely allude to it with sexual whimpers that were supposed to be you.

“Well, that will change!” you announce with glee, jumping back next to him. 

He doesn’t even wince when you accidentally kneel on his hand, instead he just moves his arm to wrap around you as you get comfortable next to him. Under the covers, he feels your toes brush against his legs and in his face, the marshmallow smell of your shampoo. Eren smiles to himself and presses his face into your hair and kisses your forehead afterwards, a cheek squished against the top of your head. In one hand, he holds the remote and in the other, strands of your hair you let him twirl around his fingers as he watches.

“You will love this movie.”

He smiles wider: “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s cool,” you nod against his side. “You know, actually, the feeling- you know the feeling you get watching a movie, when it’s so good and it makes you feel all funny and sentimental? It actually…it actually kinda reminds me of you.”

“What, really?” Eren asks, sounding flattered and surprised. You shift up to look at him and he grins widely, quickly leaning to kiss you. “You’re so cute, baby. Cheesy, but cute. I’m sure I will love this movie.”

As the movie opening rolled onto the screen, Eren sat still to allow you time and space to wriggle into his body, getting comfortable around limbs and the soft wool of his jumper that you had worn a couple of times. 

This concept isn’t entirely foreign; he’s watched at least thirty movies with you since your first “date”, which had consisted of a cinema date due to his uncharacteristic nerves to talk to you. A tradition born from A Star is Born, which, actually, Eren thought would be a happy movie, thanks, not the monstrosity that made you both cry in the cinema lobby, through laughter and a sweet hug on the sofas waiting for your Dad to pick you both up.

Eren knows this movie- he hasn’t seen it, but he knows it; he knows Elliot Page is part of a roller-derby club and he also knows that you know it word-for-word, a content smile spreading over your lips as it begins to kick in. That’s one thing he loves about watching movies with you. Not the movie, but the way you’re enchanted by them- a smile for ones you love, a scowl for ones you end up hating, tears pooling in your eyes at ones that are funny or so bad that they become funny. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s looking at you and not the movie, because when he looks at you, time stops. In your hair, his finger gets lost in the strands and eventually unloops itself, his hand stroking instead before falling to your shoulder, his fingers ghosting down your arms and body up and down, absently as he pretends to watch the movie when you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

Like clockwork, he does this, living life in gasps as he looks at you and then back at the screen. As he sighs softly, Eren pauses as you sit yourself up and look back at him, a frown on your face. He sobers, looking at you with concern: “What’s up, baby?”

“Are you watching the movie?” you ask quietly. “If it’s boring, just tell me.”

“It’s not boring,” he promises shaking his head. “I’m watching it.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re watching it.”

He smiles, “Well, right now, neither are you. I am watching, I swear. Look- Elliot Page is in a roller derby club.”

Actually amused, you laugh. “You were absolutely not watching.”

“I was.”

“They haven't even joined the team yet,” you point out. When he stays silent, you look at him with a half-triumphant and half-amused smile. “You’re such a bad liar.”

“Okay, it’s not boring,” Eren says honestly. “I just-ugh, you’re so cute. I love all of your reactions- I can’t stop looking at you.”

With some reluctance you sink back down next to him, looking at him through your eyelashes: “really?”

“Baby, yes,” he laughs. Eren pulls you closer with the arm you lay back down on, his other free and brushing bits of your hair off your face before holding the side of it gently, a thumb on your cheekbone. “You’re so pretty. Makes me sick.”

“I really wanted you to watch this movie…”

“M’sorry,” he mutters through pouted lips. Somehow, somewhere, Eren has moved forward with his nose brushing against yours. He sighs through his nose and it tickles, “just like looking at you.”

Jimmy Fallon announces the Holy Rollers as Eren guides your lips towards his, the grand entree of the rival team missed and unnoticed and surprisingly, you don’t care. He has his hands in your hair and his head in your hands, and as he deepens the kiss you wrap your arms around his body, trying to get closer when there was no way to get closer. For a moment, the sound of the TV falls silent and all Eren can focus on is you, the only thing that ever matters to him.

Eren pulls away briefly, catching his breath and helping pull you up to a sitting position, level to himself. The movie continues to play, the pictures like a silent movie as Eren returns to kissing you, not even feeling guilty about interrupting a movie date with the impromptu make-out session. Quite frankly, it’s not as if you seem to care; you cling to him, desperate, his body flush against your own.

What Eren doesn’t say with words is more than conveyed through his movements. He is the perfect mixture between gentle and pleading, his touches like the tickle of feathers. If you were to open your eyes, you’d find his closed, eyelashes on his cheekbones. Eren shifts himself, rising so that he is taller in comparison as he tilts your head upwards, lips still on his own. It’s hard to breathe in the feeling of Eren’s lips moving roughly across your own, his hands cradling your face around your jaw, thumbs smoothing crescent moons into your skin.

Eren’s lips move away. His hands run from your face to your shoulders, making you shudder like a draught entered the room when he drags them down to your wrists, detaching to hold your waist. Your heart speeds up suddenly-is this going to take a turn?

As his hands slightly lock around you, you pry open one eye, looking at him. His eyes are still closed, lost in orbit, and his lips are puckered and large, shiny, wet. Something alien festers inside of your stomach, churning painfully, like tiny kisses on the inside, ticklish. You trust Eren, with everything, and so you inhale through your nose and close your eyes once again, clutching at his face with your hands as he presses his lips tighter, begging for more.

Eren’s left hand slips, brushing against your thigh and you wince with happy surprise, having not expected it. Eren laughs slightly, amused and with adoration, his lips now on the curve of your neck. Finally, like release, you limpen and let your body fall back onto the bed, your head missing the headboard by a few centimetres and now, Eren is above you. Right before your first sign of arousal can be ripped from your throat by Eren’s lips ghosting over what you think could be a sensitive spot, Eren shifts away. He leans over you still, but he’s not moving, breathing heavily. 

Confused, torn on whether or not to be concerned, you open your eyes and look at him, seeing with surprise that his gaze is on you, anyway. He smiles when you open your eyes, cocking his head to the side boyishly and with one hand holding up his weight, he uses the other to brush some hair out of your face. Eren kisses your forehead. Then he moves away.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to do.

You lie there, like a slice of ham. Eren is normal, pushing himself back onto his ass to sit comfortably on the bed, both of his hands settled on your legs and he sighs, as if content. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, Eren looks over with the shift of the bed and a frown settles on his brows, seeing the expression on your face.

“What’s up, babe?” he asks suddenly.

“I - Nothing,” you insist, not knowing what to say. It feels awkward. You tug at your sleeves. “It’s just.” Nothing.

Eren moves forward slightly. “What happened? Did…did I do something?”

You bite the inside of your lip. “No. I mean, I don’t know - ugh, it’s just…” Eren keeps his eyes on you, round and like bunny rabbits’. You sigh, it’s time to get the baggage out of the closet. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe we were doing something and then we weren’t doing anything and I just feel like…I don’t know. Maybe you don’t want me like that?”

Eren’s brows crease. “Like…? Like, what, you don’t think I want to do anything with you? Like sex?”

By now, you’re embarrassed, like you’re five and the “s” word is still something you’re not allowed to say.

“It’s stupid,” you reply. “Forget it.”

“No, no, no,” Eren protests, shaking his head and engulfing your hands with his own. “Baby…no. Look-” he sighs nervously, smiling. In fact, the exhale sounds shaky, breathless. “I want to. I do! Just, not now.”

Your heart thuds with the pause of silence.

“Trust me, I wanna do everything I can with you, but why rush it?” he shrugs. “You’re everything to me, everything and more. It’ll happen when it happens. Yeah?”

You nod with some reluctance. It makes sense, inside you’re actually buzzing with happiness. “Yeah.”

“Also, your Dad’s home. If we can hear him down there, he can hear us,” Eren adds, followed by an overly dramatic shudder for effect. It works- you smile, a laugh rippling out afterwards and Eren smiles too. “Ah,” he exhales, rubbing your arms now that you’re sitting up in his lap, “silly baby.”

“Shut up,” you mumble. “I was just…insecure, I guess.”

“I get that,” he nods. “Don’t need to be, though. I lo…like you anyway.” He strokes the side of your face, smiling, and then presses a fleeting kiss to your nose. A laugh rumbles in his throat when you scrunch your nose up. “Even when you get insecure, and even when you yell at me in band and when you refuse to sit by me at lunch. I still like you so, so, so much.”

“I don’t yell that much,” you protest weakly.

“I know.” Eren pulls you in for a hug, a kiss planted on top of your head. “You’re the best there is. Love that about you.”

(“No funny business?”

Eren holds you tightly to his chest, his legs up and entangled with your limbs as your Dad stands by the door. Half of his body is in and the other is out, a hand on the doorframe. The lights are off except for the string of lights around the room on their dullest setting, the television off with the red light on standby, and to your Dad, everything looks fine.

“No, sir,” Eren replies quietly.

Your Dad takes a second to look between Eren and yourself. If he doesn’t believe Eren he doesn’t make it obvious, something Eren is grateful for considering how unbelievably nervous he is underneath the blankets. You’re asleep on his lap, your face against his chest, and of course, your Dad isn’t about to yell loudly to wake you up. Instead, he accepts the given truth and sighs, smiling.

“Okay, then. You’re a good kid, Eren,” he says, after thinking long and hard about what to say when he climbed the stairs to go to bed. “You’re good for her.”

Eren’s heart leaps, thuddering. “Thank-you. She’s everything.”

“Yeah,” your Dad agrees. “Yeah, she is.”

Nothing is said for a little while and your Dad stills when Eren peers down at you. Something familiar about this scene. Your Dad looks away.

“Goodnight, sport,” your Dad says quietly, pulling the door to as he leaves. He doesn’t hear Eren reply, but he knows he does. That’s just the kind of kid Eren is. He knows.)