ill have to say i love you in a song

anonymous asked:

idk if this has been done but how about mc lyric pranking the rfa+v+saeran? can be sfw or nsfw!

Saeran: Little Did You Know by Alex and Sierra 

You: Little did you know...

Saeran: Don’t tell me you ate my ice cream. 

You: How I’m breaking while you fall asleep, Little did you know… 

Saeran: Muffin, what are you talking about? Tell me, please remember no secrets between us 

You: Im still haunted by the memories…. Little did you know I’m trying to pick myself up piece by piece…

Saeran: Look I know I don’t deserve you okay but please tell me how can I help you because (y/n) you helped me pick up my pieces please babe please let me know how to help you… your scaring me…

You: Underneath it all, I’m held captive by the hole inside, Ive been holding back for the fear that you might change your mind…. 

Saeran: Please.. don’t tell my.. my biggest fear is coming true… please.. noo.. lets talk about this when I get home… please..

You: Im ready to forgive you but forgetting is a harder fight 



Saeran: @$#%! HDFGJQN GD^!*@ 

Jumin: Ego by Beyonce 

You: Aw, baby, how you doing? You know I’m gonna cut right to the chase, huh? Some women were made But me, myself? I like to think that I was created For a special purpose, You know? What’s more special than YOU? You feel me?

Jumin: Continue Kitten

You: It’s on, baby let’s get lost, You don’t need to call in to work ‘cause you’re the boss, For real, want you to show me how you feel, I consider myself lucky, that’s a big deal, Why

You: Well, you got the key to my heart, But you ain’t gonna need it, I’d rather you open up my body, And show me secrets you didn’t know was inside, No need for me to lie

Jumin: Keep going my love, you have my full attention *he exits the limo* 

You: It’s too big, Its too wide, its too strong, it won’t fit, its too much, it’s too tough, You got a big ego, such a huge ego, I Love your big ego..

*you hear the door open and then you felt your back lightly hit the couch* 

*You see jumin licking his lips and suddenly you felt his hot breath tickling your neck* 

Now now my kitten, lets see you stroke *grabs your hand and puts it on his crotch* this ego and lets make it fit shall we? 

Seven: Acquainted by The Weekend 

You: Baby you’re no good, caused they warned me bout your type, got me ducking left and right

Seven: You got that right ;)

You: You got me touchin on your body, to say that were in love is dangerous, but seven I’m glad we’re acquainted 


Seven: Oh and if I was you, I would pick a song that we didn’t fuck to :) love you see you in 10 mins!! 

V: Gotta Catch em All - Pokemon Theme Song 

You: I want to be the very best, like no one ever was 

V: Hello my precious angel :) I hope you can accomplish your dreams and be the best in your field! Know I love and support you always! 

You: To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause! 

V:  …… 

You: I will travel across the land, searching far and wide!

V: Teach Pokemon to understand!!!! The power that’s inside!!!! Pokemon, (gotta catch them all) its you and me!!!!!!! I know its my destiny!!!!

You: Pokemon, (gotta catch them all) its you and me, I know its my destiny
Pokemon, oh, you’re my best friend!!!!! In a world we must defend, Pokemon, (gotta catch them all) a heart so true!!!Our courage will pull us through




YOU: POKEEEMOOOON !! I never would of that the amazing, carefree, would know the Pokemon theme song! I never knew you liked those stuff :

V: I like to be a bit mysterious… it goes with me.. Me and Jumin use to battle each other all the time..We still do…. I started with popplio.. he started with Rowlet… 

You: Dont fuck with my litten.

Yoosung: Burn by Usher 

You:  Its going to burn for me to say this but its coming from my heart 

You: It’s been a long time coming, we da been fall apart 

Yoosung: Baby do you need me to call an ambulance!! ARE YOU AT THE APARTMENT A HEART BURN SOUNDS SERIOUS 

You: I really want to work this out but I don’t think you’re gonna change

Yoosung: Have I done something wrong? :( I know you are out of my league, I hear my classmates whispering how can a pathetic guy like me have someone so beautiful as you :( 

You: I think its best we go our separate ways… 

Yoosung: I always dreamed of this day coming.. first… sally left… then Rika… and now you… I… respect your wishes (y/n).. can you please.. just wait till my last class is over? May I have permission to buy you your favorite flowers and food because if this is going to be my last time seeing you, I want to have a good memory of you….

You: *dies* *guilt* *his heart shattered* *your heart is shattering* YOOSUNG IM SORRY IT WAS A JOKE A LYRIC PRANK IM SORRY!!! YOU KNOW IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!! IM SORRRY 


Zen: Pullin me Back by Chingy 

You: Every time I try to leave….something keeps pulling me back, Telling me I need you in my life

Zen: What do you mean ‘leave’. Define it and use it in a sentence. 

You: It was meant to be, You were meant for me, So that means we gotta make it work

Zen: I am legit confused. This is worse than an unpolished script. So you want to break my heart but then you want to make it work. We are talking about this when I get home. Im leaving practice right now. Just look at a picture of me and just remember all the good times we have. Please. 

You: It was all good at first, Spending money, going shopping, Eating at the finest restaurants,And then from club hopping

Zen:  So when you think and see a picture of me, all you think is materialistic things! REALLY! Wow, Jaehee was right about you, you were just using me. I’ll help pack your things when I get to my house. Thanks for breaking my heart. 


Zen: *sends winks face selfie* Cute how my acting skills even work on you ;) I love you too baby, don’t ever think about messing with me ;) 

Jaehee: Come and Get It by Selena Gomez 

You: You ain’t gotta worry, its an open invitation 
Jaehee: Did you open my mail? 
You: I’ll be seating right here, real patient, All day all night, I be waiting standby 
Jaehee: Please (y/n) don’t stay up for me, Mr. DickHead has me working over time :( I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me :( 
You: Can’t stop because I love it, hate the way I love you, All day, all night, maybe I’m addicted for life, no lie.
Jaehee: You speak beautiful words hehe *3* thank you for making hell more bearable :) 
You: I’m not too shy to show I love you, I got no regrets. I love you much, too much to hide you, this love ain’t finished yet.
Jaehee:  What do you mean show me……. 
You: *sends nude* 
*jaehee in the office* 

Originally posted by kaaatana

another donation post on tumbler dot com but this one is for my beloved soma since he impulse deleted and has no followers rip

if you dont know me for any reason im juzo! last month i was lucky enough to be able to start living with the love of my life and ive been very greatful for that in itself!! unfortunately though since he moved across state lines he does not currently have a job yet, and though hes been applying to multiple jobs per day he hasnt gotten a callback yet.

i currently do have a job- and i work full time- but i only make a dollar more than minimum wage currently. thats not enough for us both to be living on when our rent is nearly $800.

im not going to ask for much though because hes going to continue applying for jobs, but the problem with that is that we forgot to work his monthly phone bill into this months budget and that phone number is what hes been putting on applications.

all we need is $50 total to pay for his phone bill right now

any extra though would go to groceries/a new pair of glasses for him/a new bike/etc and would be MUCH appreciated

i dont know what to offer in return really but soma can draw pretty pictures for you if you wanted? i can sing you a song. i cant draw. id say “ill promo you!” or something but i only have 1.3k followers so even thats kinda silly gg but ID LOVE YOU FOREVER hows that

answering asks!

been a while since i answered some QUESTIONS so here we go

remember to check my faq before asking! thanks!

Keep reading

• love stories are not always what they seem (even spotting isak first was such a cool thing but also like woah???)
• people mental illness are still capable of being unconditionally loved, admired and cared for
• the weeknd is a 10/10 love song composer
• kissing in the rain isn’t always cheesy
• unintentional homophobia is a thing but it shouldn’t be
• the possibility of parallel universes
• beanie + hoodie combo
• cuddling is always the right answer
• it’s never wrong to love someone who doesn’t love you back (magnus being so head over heels for vilde is adorable)
• surround yourself with people who are supportive, hilarious and kind
• share clothes with people you love because you love them
• you don’t have to say “i love you” to say “i love you”
• breaking and entering is still illegal (even if you just want to chill in a swimming pool and kiss the boy of your dreams)
• it always gets better

okay one of my favorite parts of next to normal is in the song I am the one Dan says “how could something go wrong that I can’t see?” referring to Diana’s relapse and I love that they portrayed how people who don’t have these mental illnesses don’t understand how it’s not always obvious and you go through the show knowing kinda what’s going through these character’s heads and when he says this you facepalm but that’s how it is in real life because people can’t really tell when someone is struggling with their mental illness unless they specifically ask for help and it’s not easy to ask for help and ugh i just love how the show portrays this with just one line and it’s one of the most important lines in that song to me dfcgvhbjncxvbn i just love next to normal so fucking much

Morning scents and cuddles

A/N This Is my first writing piece just basic fluff with a cuddly morning with Fionn and him telling you how good your scent is. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. If you enjoy this piece please send in requests, thoughts, or just any Fionn or Harry talk! Enjoy! •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• 1066 word count •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It was early morning about 7 AM, the soft orange light from the sun was starting to peak through the white sheer curtains that hung above the window filling the room with the gorgeous color. You looked over at the beautiful boy next to you, the light from the window dancing off his bare back as he lay there on his stomach, still asleep, mouth slightly parted and head facing me away from the window. He knows how much of a morning person you are and how much you love the early morning light that spills into the room every day. But what Fionn doesn’t know is that yes while you do love the stunning morning light what you love more is the way he looks in it, that this is a time everyday where you can sit and admire all his perfect little freckles, his perfect eyelashes that you were time to time slightly jealous of, the way his hair has ruffled a bit and fallen in his face in his sleep, and with his lips parted you can get just a glimpse of his perfectly imperfect crooked front teeth. There were times when he would become insecure about them but you always assured him of how much you loved them, how they gave him character, not to worry of what others think of his teeth. You didn’t even realize you were gently running your thumb over his flawless freckle filled face and sharp jaw until you saw his brows furrow and him starting to stir. Fionn let out a little morning moan and his eyes started to flutter. “What are you doing love, what time is it, why are you awake?” Fionn mumbled tiredly as he took one hand and rubbed a knuckle over one of his eyes peeking it open at you. “You know im always awake before you ya goof, you’d sleep till 5PM if anybody would let you” you took your hand that was already rested on his jaw and ran it through the slightly tangled hair that was rested on his forehead and moved it out of the way. Fionn with his eyes still squinted and trying to adjust to the morning light let out a tired laugh and moved his hand from his pillow bringing it to your face pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Love you know that’s not true, if I slept till 5PM everyday that would mean less time with you, it would be more like 2 that’s a reasonable time”. You laughed as you shook your head at the silly boy in front of you “Fionn! Reasonable really? You call 2 O’clock in the afternoon reasonable? You know most people wake up in the morning like 8 or even 10 that’s reasonable”. Fionn nuzzled closer to you laying his head on your chest and wrapping his arm around your waist “ You smell good right now, not that you don’t usually smell good, but it just something about your scent in the morning that I love, no perfume or body wash could ever smell as good to me as this” Fionn mumbled while you could feel his breath on your chest and see his eyes closed, him trying to go back to sleep while cuddling you and inhaling your scent that he found to be the most perfect, intoxicating, and comforting scent he had ever smelled. “Babe I haven’t even showered this morning, you must just be smelling the scent from the clean sheets I put on last night”. You could feel him shaking his head and the vibrations from him humming an “uh uh”. “No, its you not the bloody clean sheets, I know your scent love, it’s the most amazing thing I have ever smelled and it’s all purely you” Fionn mumbled sleepily as he was about to fall asleep in the most perfect way he could think of. You could feel yourself blushing, not that Fionn never complimented you, but it was just something about this one that was so sweet and and intimate that it made you feel shy. You weren’t too sure how to respond to that compliment so you try to coax the sweet boy to wake up with you by bribing him with the one thing you knew he cared about almost as much as you. “Babe if you wake up ill make you breakfast, I’ll even make your favorite, Toast and jam” you say in a sing song voice. Fionn moans in disgust at the thought of even putting the smallest piece of toast with the thinnest layer of jam on it in his mouth. “You know how much I used to love that and that may have worked a year ago but not now, I never want to even hear those words again or I may be sick, besides I really just want to lay here and cuddle you and go back to sleep”. You laugh at poor Fionns pain of the toast and jam. You knew how he felt about it after filming Dunkirk but you loved to tease him anyway. “Alright baby we can go back to sleep but not till 2 I want to actually spend the day with you.” Fionn laughs and nuzzles into you further. “Ok love I promise” Fionn places a soft gentle kiss to your chest. Just as your about to fall asleep you hear the beautiful boy slightly on top of you say something. “What did you say babe”? you ask slightly mumbling from almost being asleep, “I meant it, what I said earlier about your scent, it really is exquisite, you can’t bottle that smell or make some body soap out of it, no matter how hard you try cause it’s you, it’s purely you, 100% unique and all mine to smell”. You lay there shocked again from the sweet compliment, and as you go to tell him how sweet and beautiful he is you notice tiny little snores coming from his once again parted lips and decided that once you wake up you will have the rest of the day to let him know how lucky you feel to have him.

Lady Gaga is the only pop singer that REALLY
cares about his fans.
It’s very sad that many “ Fans ” stoned her for canceling shows,
but we have to understand that she is suffering because of a disease without a cure
Gaga does not have to be a victim to anyone, she is sincere to everyone, she would never cancel shows for transient pain. She is sad with offensive comments, saying that she is a liar for inventing diseases, Gaga does not need it, she tries her best to give her all, she spreads love to every song, album, words in her tours. You mocking your illness are mocking people who unfortunately have this disease.
It’s sad to see people who in the BTW era were already fans and have seen her suffer since then, are attacking her now, I hope you now understand the seriousness of her problem and realize it’s not “drama.” Especially the little monsters who are saying they will stop being a fan because of a cancellation.
Does a show matter more than her physical and mental health?

The Words

**This BEAUTIFUL asthetics board was made by my BEAUTIFUL friend @yoongi-n-jin, who is the inspiration for my OC. Thank you, Emily! LOVE YA**

Pairing: Dance Teacher!/Choreographer!Jung Hoseok x Costume Designer!Reader (female)

Non-Idol AU

Featuring: Music Producer!Min Yoongi x Teacher!OC (female)

Word Count: 4,864

Genre: Angst / Drama / Fluff

Warnings/Triggers: Mentions of depression and anxiety. Mentions of emotional neglect in back story. Cursing.

Prompt: ___ and Hoseok have been dating for years now, but ___ has yet to say, “I love you.” and Hoseok doubts ___’s love for him.

Fic Songs: “The Words” by Christina Perri, “Come What May” by Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman from the Moulin Rouge OST.

A/N: @nightbts is having a writing contest and this is my entry! I hope y'all like this. I did my best. Feedback is much appreciated!

/IMPORTANT: Please note that being in a relationship does not fix your problems. Especially depression and anxiety or other mental illnesses. Being with someone you love and who loves you back can HELP, but it is in no way a solution. If you suffer from any mental illness, and are struggling, you should seek professional help. There are many hotlines you can call for free and going to the doctor is really your best bet for dealing with these illnesses./

“And I know the scariest part is letting go.

‘Cause Love is a ghost you can’t control.

I promise you the truth can’t hurt us now.

So let the words slip out of your mouth.”

(___’s POV)

It’s been two weeks since you’ve last seen your fiancé. He’s been distant lately. He barely replies to your texts or answers your calls. When he does speak to you, he’s very short and doesn’t say much. He always seems to be doing something else.

Hoseok is a dance teacher and choreographer, so you’re used to him working a lot. But this is out of character for him. Because he’s so busy, he loves to talk and text with you because he misses you. He loves hearing your voice after a long day. You used to spend just about every night at either of your places having movie and drama marathons. Not so much now.

Normally, you’d be worried. But when you hear that flat and uninterested voice on the other side of the phone, your stomach twists with guilt. After 3 years of being together, you can pick up on the underlying hurt that’s laced in his words. You know exactly why he’s been so scarce.

You haven’t said the words yet. The three words that everyone wants to hear. You can’t bring yourself to say them. Not directly to him while he’s awake, anyway.

Growing up, the words were always thrown around without any meaning. “I love you,” was used as a band aid after someone hurt you. Your parents, your siblings, and even your few boyfriends; they all did it.

You started to hate those words. They held no happiness for you. In fact, it was the opposite. You vowed that you would never say them again. At least not until that person proved that they deserved it.

When you started dating Hoseok, you immediately realized he was different. He was happy and considerate. He was always smiling. He shone brighter than the sun. You were so drawn to him. You couldn’t help it. His warmth made you feel safe. You had less panic attacks and the depression seemed to lessen a little.

There’s a quote that always seemed to fit how you felt: “You know you’re in love when home becomes a person, not a place.” Hoseok became your home.

After two years of utter bliss, he took you to your favorite park where you had your first date. You sat on the same bench that you did when he asked you to be his girlfriend months later. He knelt in front of you with your favorite flowers in one hand and a ring in the other.

It was the first time he’d said the words. He didn’t expect you to say them back since he knew how you felt about them. He waited to use them until that day because he wanted you to know that he meant them and that he would mean them for the rest of his life.

Keep reading

Don’t Leave Me Here (In This House of Wolves)

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It’s been weeks now since your boyfriend, Gerard, and his bandmates locked themselves inside the Paramour Mansion to work on their eagerly anticipated third album. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong with Gerard, so you decide to visit the mansion yourself to make sure all is well. What you find only makes you more worried. Written for the Black Parade tenth anniversary (tho I’m posting it a day late ^^;)

It had been a few weeks since your boyfriend Gerard announced that he and his band were moving into the Paramour Mansion. He said that the label thought it would be good inspiration for the album he and the guys had been working on since Warped Tour ended. You wanted the making of this album to be a success, but, honestly, you missed him. You knew you weren’t supposed to go bother him while he was working, but he’d stopped returning your calls, and you were getting worried about him. So, you decided to drive up to the mansion yourself, and see how he was doing.

From the moment you drove up to the front gates, you couldn’t help but notice how creepy the place was. It did fit Gerard’s Gothic vibes perfectly, you had to admit – but, something about it also unsettled you. You couldn’t shake the vague feelings of anxiety as you walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell.

Gerard answered the door, and you were distressed to see how haggard he looked. He had dark circles around his eyes, and he looked even paler than usual. He was wearing a ratty pair of pajama pants that looked like they hadn’t been washed in days.

“……Baby?” Gerard said in a weak voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you,” you explained, pulling him into your arms immediately. He collapsed into them, like he was going to fall asleep right there in the doorway. “And I’m glad I did, because you look like hell, Gee.”

“……I’m sorry,” Gerard muttered, leading you into the foyer.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” you frowned, tenderly brushing his hair out of his face and wiping a spot of dirt off his cheek. “I mean, of course you’re always a cutie pie, Gerard, but you don’t look healthy.”

Gerard kissed your cheek, seeming relieved that you were here. “I missed you,” he confessed.

“I missed you, too,” you replied, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Hey, Gerard!” you heard Bob’s voice echoing from down the hall as he approached.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” the ginger drummer added when he saw you.

“Hi, Bob,” you waved.

“Gerard, did you fill the bathtub upstairs?” Bob wondered.

“Uh, no?” Gerard answered, seeming confused.

“Well, Frank and Ray said they didn’t either,” Bob explained, looking spooked. “And I sure as hell didn’t. Just like I didn’t open that door last night. I swear to God, dude, this place is haunted.”

“Haunted?” you repeated, surprised.

“There are some rumors about this place,” Gerard shrugged.

“Do you actually believe them?” you asked.

“Mikey swears he saw some shit,” Gerard revealed.

“Where is Mikey?” you asked curiously. “I haven’t seen him in a while, either. I want to say hello.”

Gerard and Bob grew quiet, which made you nervous.

“….I’ll let you tell her,” Bob said finally, and walked away. After he’d disappeared down the hall, you looked at Gerard, waiting for an explanation.

“Mikey’s…..gone,” Gerard said simply.

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” you asked, alarmed.

“He couldn’t deal with this place,” Gerard explained. “And I don’t blame him – he got so creeped out that he’d started sleeping in my room. The energy in this place was just fucking with his head. He had to go.”

“Where is he now?” you demanded.

“He’s with Stacy,” Gerard replied. “You know Stacy, right? Our lawyer friend?”

“Of course I know Stacy,” you snapped. “But, Gerard, oh my god, if things were getting so serious that Mikey freaked out and left in the middle of recording this album, why didn’t you call me and let me know what was going on?”

“I wanted to,” Gerard said apologetically. “But, I’ve just been so tired, and….well, you know I have depression, of course.”

“I know,” you said, taking Gerard’s hand gently. He’d “come out” to you as mentally ill a few months into your relationship.

“Well, I don’t know what it is, but I feel like this house is making my depression worse,” Gerard confessed. “Sometimes, I get so stressed out, thinking about how we’re going to finish this record, and if anyone will even get it, and sometimes I just want to go crawl into the bottom of the pool in the yard and just lay there until I can’t breathe and can’t worry about this goddamn album anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you said, squeezing his hand. Your heart was suddenly filled with worry for him.

“I won’t do it, baby,” Gerard promised. “I’m not going to actually do it, I’m just…..always in such a dark mindset lately. But, I think I need to be. The album is very dark, and it deals a lot with death, and so I kind of have to be in that headspace while we’re working.”

“You don’t have to,” you protested. “Gerard, you don’t have to destroy your psychological health to make this record, ok? You don’t owe the fans, or the label, or anyone, that.”

“I guess I just don’t know how to do things halfway,” Gerard admitted. “I get obsessive when I’m trying to create something. I’ve done that with every album I’ve made, and even with my comic books, too. I lock myself up with this…..concept, no matter what it does to me,  and I don’t leave until it’s finished.”

“Well, too bad,” you decided, “because we are leaving.”

“Wait, what?” Gerard blinked.

“I’m getting you out of this house,” you said insistently. “Just for a little while. You need a break, Gerard.”

Keep reading

Missing Coachella (Ethan)

(Hi, this is my first imagine. When I saw this video it completely inspired me)


“y/n, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Your boyfriend, Ethan, asks through the phone. “I could fly you out tonight if you wanted.”

For the past week Ethan, Grayson, and Cameron have been begging you to fly out to Palm Springs so you could join them at Coachella. After countless times of telling them that you have classes, they finally gave up. You were currently in your dorm at New York University trying desperately to finish your organic chemistry homework that is due tomorrow morning at 8:30 am.

You press the home button on your phone to see that it is 1:57 am and that you have a snapchat from Ethan. You know you shouldn’t get sucked into a conversation because if you do, your homework will never get done and your roommate will continue to complain about how late you stay up.

After continuing your work for 5 or so minutes, you cave. Waiting in your snapchat inbox for you is a video of Ethan, Grayson, and Odell Beckham Jr. singing and dancing to Backseat Freestyle by Kendrick Lamar. He captions the video:

could you hang with obj and kendrick at school babe?

knowing full well your love for Kendrick Lamar and the New York Giants. Not to mention Ethan himself looking incredibly hot singing along to your favorite song off of Good Kid, M.A.A.D City. A sudden rush of “fomo” washes over you and you start to really regret skipping out on the festival. Instead of cramming for your Monday morning class, you could have been singing along to Kendrick Lamar on Ethan’s shoulders with Odell Beckham Jr.

Making up your mind, you snap Ethan back a very annoyed picture of you captioned:

ok fine ill be there next weekend,  tell Odell I say hi 😍


Prince’s Hot Rock: The Secret Life Of America’s Sexiest One-Man Band

What does a twenty-two-year-old musical wizard in bikini briefs have that other rock stars don’t? Whatever it is, it makes him the world’s sexiest and most influential one-man band

By Debby Miller
April 28, 1983

“Good Evening, this is your pilot, Prince, speaking” comes out of the loudspeakers, all softness and breath, full of welcome. It’s a flight you may not have taken before. Brace yourself, he ought to say. This is “International Lover,” something the globe-conquering Prince claims to be, and this is his live act, which takes place on a grand, two-tiered stage hung with gigantic Venetian blinds.

In high-heeled boots, a flouncy ruffled blouse and a purple quasi-Edwardian suit, Prince begins to climb to the higher level, taking long strides that end in a hip-locking sway, a Rita Hayworth sort of walk. “You are flying aboard the Seduction 747,” he rasps. “To activate the flow of excitement, extinguish all clothing materials.”

Standing alone on the upper riser, Prince simply points a finger, and — you imagine this happens every time Prince extends his long index finger— a brass bed materializes. Stripping off his jacket, his shirt, unbuckling his belt so that a long strap hangs between his legs, Prince climbs onto the mattress and begins to undulate over the bed. “We are now making our final approach to satisfaction. Please bring your lips, your arms, your hips into the up and locked position for landing,” he says, panting, and lets out a piercing scream that seems to announce the sudden fall from the sky of the flight of Seduction 747 — and Prince and the bed disappear.

All cocky, teasing talk about sex, that’s Prince. Forget Mr. Look So Good; meet the original Mr. Big Stuff. He’s afraid of nothing onstage: ready to take on all the desires of a stadium full of his lusty fans, ready to marry funky black dance music and punky white rock music after their stormy separation through the Seventies, ready to sell his Sex Can Save Us message to anybody who’ll give his falsetto a listen. Nor does anything scare him when he’s at home alone, composing.

Out comes a paean to incest called “Sister,” a song called “Head” about a bride who meets Prince on her way to be wed and says, “I must confess, I wanna get undressed and go to bed,” and a song called “Jack U Off.” He even advised the president, “Ronnie Talk to Russia.” So bold that half of his material is radio-censored, Prince is wailing, “Guess I should have closed my eyes when you drove me to the place where your horses run free/Cuz I felt a little ill when I saw all the pictures of the jockeys that were there before me” (in “Little Red Corvette”), while Lionel Richie is everywhere on the radio with “Truly, I love you truly.”

His music, a technofunk and rock blend that many have started to call “the Minneapolis sound” because of the way the Minnesota native’s influence is spreading, is the freshest thing around. So Kraftwerk made The Man Machine? This is the Man Sex Machine. He usually plays every instrument on his albums, even sings his own backup most of the time. His upper register can give you goose flesh when he’s singing gospel-style, and he can turn around and hiccup his way through rockabilly like a perfect descendant of Elvis. There just don’t seem to be any bounds to Prince’s nerve or talent — each album is better than the last (he’s made five), each stage show more outrageous.

A tour begun in November of last year had grossed almost $7 million before the end of March. Prince’s new double album, 1999, has sold almost 750,000 copies, with its hottest single, “Little Red Corvette,” closing in on the Top Twenty on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart. And two groups he helped form made the black chart’s Top Ten this winter: Vanity 6, a coquettish trio that performs in lingerie and whose “Nasty Girls” was a disco smash, and the Time, the tightest, funkiest live band in America.

Prince, just twenty-two, is the father of it all. But just try checking out the lineage. There isn’t just a private side to Prince, there’s an almost mysterious aspect. While the art of self-promotion has never been alien to rock & roll, it seems only to frustrate Prince. He was fairly outspoken until last fall, when, after his first interview to promote 1999, he walked out of the room and announced that he would never talk to the press again. “He’s afraid he might say something wrong or say too much,” says a former aide-de-camp.

When he did talk, he often contradicted himself. Rumors started to spread, and now his silence feeds them. Is Prince his real name? Is he black or white, straight or gay (questions he himself raised on his 1981 hit-cum-Lord’s Prayer recitation, “Controversy”)? Is he the Jamie Starr who produced albums by the Time and Vanity 6? Is he a shy little Prince or a despotic king?

“Prince controls the whole scene in Minneapolis,” says a local musician who has worked with him. Others who’ve lived with him or worked alongside him say he loves to surround himself with an air of mystery, to create false identities to tangle the clues that lead to him. Cutting off all but a few close friends, Prince tends to hole up at his huge home, with its modern basement-studio, on a lake twenty miles west of Minneapolis. One member of his band says he’s had just one personal conversation with Prince in all the years he’s known him. “He’s a real ‘to himself’ kind of person,” says Morris Day, the Time’s frontman and a longtime friend.

“He doesn’t like to talk,” says Vanity, the awesomely beautiful leader of Vanity 6, who accompanied Prince to the Grammys in February.

“Sir Highness,” says another friend, “has a way of secluding himself.”

Prince, the Pauper

Piece together Prince’s story from his own partial accounts, and you come up with sort of a musical Wild Child, an untamed loner who raised himself and taught himself how to survive among the wolves. Patch together the history told by the people close to him, and you get a version like this:

The first notes of the Minneapolis sound were heard in a big brick house in North Minneapolis, an aging, primarily black section of town that draws outsiders only to the Terrace Theater, a movie house designed to look like a suburban backyard patio, and the Riverview Supper Club, the nightspot a black act turns to after it has polished its performance on the local chitlin circuit. North Minneapolis is a poor area by local standards, but a family with not too much money can still afford the rent on a whole house. It was there that Bernadette Anderson, who was already raising six kids of her own by herself, decided to take in a doe-eyed kid named Prince, a pal of her youngest son, André.

The thirteen-year-old Prince had landed on the Anderson doorstep after having been passed from his stepfather and mother’s home to his dad’s apartment to his aunt’s house. “I was constantly running from family to family,” Prince has said. “It was nice on one hand, because I always had a new family, but I didn’t like being shuffled around. I was bitter for a while, but I adjusted.”

His father, John Nelson, was a musician himself — a piano player in a jazz band by night, a worker at Honeywell, the electronics company, by day. Nelson is black and Italian; his ex-wife, says Prince of his mother, “is a mixture of a bunch of things.” Onstage, the father was called Prince Rogers, and that is what he named his son, Prince Rogers Nelson.

John Nelson moved out of the family home when Prince was seven. But he left behind his piano, and it became the first instrument Prince learned to play. The songs he practiced were TV themes — Batman and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. “My first drum set was a box full of newspapers,” he has said, explaining how he came to play a whole range of instruments. “At thirteen, I went to live with my aunt. She didn’t have room for a piano, so my father bought me an electric guitar, and I learned how to play.” But the aunt wasn’t keen on the noise, and she threw him out. It was then that Prince turned up at André’s.

Hardly into their teens, Prince and André (who uses the surname Cymone) had already formed their first group. Prince recalled, “I got my first band. I wanted to hear more instruments, so I started Champagne, a twelve-piece band. Only four of us played. Eight were faking. André and I played saxophone. I also played piano. I wrote all the music. The songs were all instrumentals. No one ever sang. When I got into high school, I started to write lyrics. I’d write the really, really vulgar stuff.”

André, on the other hand, claims the first band had Prince playing lead guitar, André himself on bass guitar, his sister Linda on keyboards and the Time’s Morris Day on drums. The group was called Grand Central, later renamed Champagne. The musicians all wore suede-cloth suits with their zodiac signs sewn on the back (Prince, born on June 7th, 1960, had Gemini, the twins, on his). For a time, they were managed by Morris’ mother, which didn’t make Prince very happy. “She wasn’t fast enough for Prince,” says Mrs. Anderson. “He wanted her to get them a contract right away.”

The band practiced in André’s basement, where Prince had established a bedroom of his own. “It sounded like a lot of noise,” says Bernadette Anderson. “But after the first couple of years, I realized the seriousness of it. They were good kids. Girls were crazy about them.”

André — whose father had played bass in the Prince Rogers Band — says that although the family was poor, Prince “dug the atmosphere. It was freedom for him.” There wasn’t enough money to buy records, but there was a family friend — a reclusive black millionaire, says one source — who gave the kids the money to go to a local studio to record a few songs. The studio they picked was called Moon Sound.

Moon Sound was an eight-track studio that charged about thirty-five dollars an hour back in 1976, when Prince and André and the rest of Champagne walked in the door. The owner, Chris Moon, was a lyricist looking for a collaborator. “Prince always used to show up at the studio with a chocolate shake in his hand, sipping out of a straw,” Moon remembers. “He looked pretty tame. Then he’d pick up an instrument and that was it. It was all over.”

Prince soon agreed to work with Moon, and the studio owner handed the seventeen-year-old a set of keys to the studio. “He’d stay the weekend, sleep on the studio floor,” Moon says. “I wrote down directions on how to operate the equipment, so he’d just follow the little chart — you know, press this button to record and this button to play back. That’s when he learned to operate studio equipment. Pretty soon, I could sit back and do the listening.”

One person who heard Prince’s early recordings was Owen Husney, who became his first manager. Husney put together an expensive package that included a demo tape of three twelve-minute songs on which Prince sang and played all the instruments, and he went off to L.A. to make a pitch to the record companies. Three labels — CBS, Warner Bros, and A&M — eventually made offers. Prince finally signed with Warner Bros., where, says an executive, they “were taken with the simplicity of his music and a future that looked wide open,” and where he was offered a firm three-LP contract, unheard of for a new artist.

Lenny Waronker, then head of A&R and now president of the label, was impressed enough to allow Prince to act as producer of his debut album. “I met him when we first signed him,” Waronker recalls. “[Producer] Russ Titelman and I took him into the studio one day, much to his chagrin. So we said, 'Play the drums,’ and he played the drums and put a bass part on, a guitar part. And we just said, 'Yeah, fine, that’s good enough.’”

Sales of the first Prince album, For You, released in 1978, weren’t so hot, but the fact that the kid was a one-man band — and his own producer — got a lot of attention. Then, in 1979, the single “I Wanna Be Your Lover” from his eponymous second LP went to Number One on the soul charts. But the age of innocence was almost over. Prince was back in Minneapolis putting together a new band, a straggly mix of blacks and whites, all recruited locally. His old friend André Cymone was among them, playing bass.

“There was a lot of pressure from my ex-buddies in other bands not to have white members in the band,” Prince has said. “But I always wanted a band that was black and white. Half the musicians I knew only listened to one type of music. That wasn’t good enough for me.”

The band, with its double keyboards, learned to reproduce the music Prince had been creating alone in the studio. The synthesizers, often playing horn lines, are a hallmark of the Minneapolis sound. The guitar signature is edgy rock, but the beat reins in any long guitar solos. “Around here, if it’s not synthesizers, it’s nothing,” says a local Minneapolis musician. “This is a keyboard town. It’s simplicity. If you listen to a lot of Prince or the Time, it’s simple. It’s direct and straight to the point. And it feels so good.”

With a band to spread the word on the road, Prince was ready, in 1980, to unleash Dirty Mind, his bawdy third album. 1999 wasn’t very far away.

Black Lace Bikini Underwear

Prince does not dress like your average rock star. Not for him the futuristic, stretchy costumes of the Commodores, or the raggedy jeans of the Bruce Springsteen types. He wears bright eye makeup, and his hair seems a cross between Little Richard and neorockabilly styles. He dresses in his own rococo street-kid fashion. Last year, when Prince won an award from a Minneapolis weekly newspaper for Minnesota Musician of the year, he showed up in his most formal clothes — black trench coat and white go-go boots (his acceptance speech: “When do they give the award for the best ass?”).

And he’s been known to perform in nothing but boots and a pair of bikini underpants. It’s quite an act — that lean, almost nude body singing no-holds-barred lyrics. “How come you don’t call me?” he wails in gospel falsetto in one song. “Don’t you wanna play with my tootsie roll?” And he entreats his audiences into the singalong to “Head” — “I’ll give you head, love you till you’re dead.”

It’s sexy, sure — girls screech whenever he tosses black lace bikini underwear into the audience — but it’s also very funny. Teddy Pendergrass, Marvin Gaye and Richard “Dimples” Fields are all out of the same school of seduction, but Prince seems to have been off studying with Mae West, learning high camp and low-rent vamping. He’s developed a great sense of humor, even if he takes his sex-is-liberation politics very seriously. And from the giddy “Gotta Stop Messin’ About” to “Let’s Work,” nobody has so well expressed the exhilarating freedom of adolescent sexual energy since Michael Jackson yelped “I Want You Back.”

“Prince has brought a boldness out of black entertainers again,” says Alexander (O'Neill — there’s a penchant for first names only in this crowd), a Minneapolis singer who fronted an early version of the Time. “Jimi Hendrix and Little Richard —they always dressed bizarre. Now Prince is doing it in a new era. He’s making a lot of entertainers wake up to things. You’re making a statement in life. It’s all about being your own self. Like Prince says, 'It’s all about being free.’”

Why so much sex? someone asked him once. “My songs are more about love than they are about sex,” he answered. “I don’t consider myself a great poet, or interpreter à la Moses. I just know I’m here to say what’s on my mind, and I’m in a position where I can do that. It would be foolish for me to make up stories about going to Paris, knocking off the queen and things of that nature.”

Prince was just seventeen when he co-wrote, with studio owner Chris Moon, the single from his first LP, a song called “Soft and Wet.” Already, they had considered the commercial potential of an innocent sexuality. “That was the original concept,” says Moon, “and it’s stayed true to that. I had a conversation with him on the phone about a year ago, and I said, 'I see you’re still staying with the "Soft and Wet” theme. But you’re making it a little more blatant. What is this I hear about “Head”?’ And he goes, 'Yeah, well, I decided to make it a little more straightforward so that everyone would get it.’“

Everyone does seem to be getting it these days, including Prince’s dad. "When I first played the Dirty Mind album for him,” Prince has said of his father, “he said,'You’re swearing on the record. Why do you have to do that?’ And I said, 'Because I swear.’”

Prince, apparently, is not a character played out in the music. “His persona is Prince, onstage and offstage,” says his friend and personal manager, Steve Fargnoli. “He’s just as outspoken and outrageous offstage, in his business dealings.” But he is shy, Fargnoli adds, and he says what he has to say about his politics and music on his records, not in conversation. And soon, he’ll be saying it all in a movie: Prince has written the film treatment and most of the score for a musical that he’ll also act in. “He is demanding of himself and of everyone who works around him,” says Fargnoli. “You always have to be on your toes. He doesn’t play by the rules.”

The rules he plays by, instead, are his rules. He comes on strong. Is he — with his androgynous look, his royal name and his sex-mad lyrics — scarier to white audiences than Mr. T? Album-oriented radio is certainly skittish about playing Prince, saying that funk doesn’t cut it with their heavymetal-loving listeners. On the other hand, his videos are popular with MTV viewers. Prince’s audience actually seems to be as integrated as that of the old soul stars (Prince’s management company estimates his concert audiences to be forty percent white). People who like, say, James Brown have found Prince, and they like the way he uses elements of rock & roll while keeping an R&B backbone in the music.

And although armchair sociologists might suggest that a really outrageous performer has a better chance of succeeding in conservative times like these and may cite Little Richard’s reign in the Fifties as an example, neither Little Richard nor Prince would have made a dent in the music market without talent. Prince, whose refusal to speak to the press has made him less visible than other musicians, probably is popular in spite of, not because of, his image. After all, he has a following of people caught up in the visceral charge of his music, not an audience of voyeurs.

He can count among his fans John Cougar, who was so impressed on hearing Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” that he started touting Prince to his own concert audiences. Before 20,000 fans in Tulsa, he ran backstage to get his cassette deck, then played a tape of Prince’s hit single into his microphone. For the LP Cougar is producing for Mitch Ryder, the first 45 is likely to be Ryder’s recording of Prince’s “When You Were Mine.” And Cougar has — unsuccessfully, so far — been trying to get a message to Prince: would he sing on Cougar’s new album?

What Time Is It?

Joni Mitchell songs blare out of the PA between the sets of Prince’s road show, at his request. Vanity 6, three women in lacy camisoles, open the concert. “I love lingerie,” explains Vanity, the leader of the group. “I used to sneak into my mother’s closet and try to wear her lingerie to school.” She picked her nickname because “a girl’s best friend is her pride,” she says. Like her cohorts, Brenda and Susan, Vanity gave a demo tape of her songs to Prince a year ago. “He said there were a couple other girls whose minds seemed to run alongside mine,” she says. Prince then arranged to bring Vanity, a twenty-two-year-old former model from Toronto, to Minneapolis to meet the other two, flying Brenda in from Boston. Soon, the three were writing songs like “Drive Me Wild” and “Nasty Girls,” in which Vanity coos, “I can’t control it/I need seven inches or more.”

It all seems a figment of Prince’s imagination, a living fantasy. “Prince and I happen to think alike,” says Vanity. On their record, Vanity 6 is backed by the Time; onstage, they’re followed by the Time (who, in turn, are followed by Prince). At one point in the Time’s set, frontman Morris Day, a terrific dancer, calls out his valet. The valet —who often follows Morris’ own dance steps like a shadow — brings out a table, sets it with a white cloth and a vase of flowers, and uncorks a bottle of champagne. Morris, meanwhile, in his trademark two-tone Stacy Adams shoes, waltzes with a girl chosen from the audience. This sort of classy deportment was the starting point for the Time, as organized by Morris. “The image was cool. That’s the key word,” he says. “That’s what we built the Time around. Cool is an attitude, a self-respect thing.”

Morris didn’t exactly put the group together — all but guitarist Jesse Johnson had been playing around Minneapolis in a band called Flyte Tyme (known familiarly as the Tyme even then). But it is Morris who has led the band to the point where it now often steals the show from the scantily clad Vanity 6 and even from Prince. Morris, the former drummer, has stayed closer to traditional R&B but, by injecting his good humor, has developed one of the best live acts in the country.

Prince, says Morris, helped the band get its Warner Bros. contract in 1981. Asked why the Time shares the same teenage-sex themes as Prince, Morris says, “Sex is present in everybody’s life. I don’t think anybody owns the rights to that.” Asked if Prince influenced their sound, Morris says what Vanity says: “We believe in the same things.” Asked about Jamie Starr, an icy tension descends.

Although Morris Day and one Jamie Starr are credited as producers on the Time’s first record, there is reason to believe that the record was, in fact, produced by Prince. One source very close to the situation says that not only is all the material written by Prince (mysteriously, there are no writing credits on the LP), but that the instruments are played by Prince and the voice is Prince’s doubled with Morris Day’s. This insider claims that the record — a more commercial, more straightforward R&B album — is a project Prince offered Warner Bros. because his own bolder stuff wasn’t selling impressively. So, goes this theory, Prince set the Time in motion — and created a pseudonym, Jamie Starr, for his new project.

Prince did tell a reporter in an early interview with the Minnesota Daily, when he was just seventeen, that someday he would make jazz recordings under an alias. (In that same interview, Prince claimed not to be averse to choreography, but he drew the line at spins — “I get nauseated.”) So the idea of working with a fictitious name had occurred to him at the beginning of his career.

And although Morris says that he and the band wrote the songs on their first LP, The Time, a call to the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP), with whom the songs are registered, casts some doubt. The composer of the hits “Get It Up” and “Cool” is Prince Rogers Nelson (with Dez Dickerson on “Cool”), says an ASCAP spokesman. Prince’s manager says that the fact that Prince’s name is registered for the Time’s record is “a filing mistake.”

“Let me clear up a few rumors while I have the chance,” Prince told the Los Angeles Times. “One, my real name is Prince. Two, I’m not gay. And three, I’m not Jamie Starr.”

“Jamie Starr is an engineer, the coproducer of our record. Of course he’s real,” says Morris Day, whose band now outplays whoever it was on the first Time record.

But if there is a Jamie Starr, why can’t he be reached? Manager Steve Fargnoli says it’s because he’s “in and out of Minneapolis,” because he’s “a reclusive maniac” (like Prince) and because “it could be months before I see him,” Can he be reached by phone? “No.”

Well, you wouldn’t need to call him over to Prince’s home studio if he’s already there. “Prince is Jamie Starr”, says former Warner Bros. artist and fellow Minneapolitan Sue Ann (Carwell), who has been a friend of Prince’s for years — ever since he wrote and produced her first demo tape. Others who are close to Prince also say that he is Jamie Starr, but they refuse to be quoted in print. But, says one, “everybody knows who’s the main man behind everything.”


“We could be this Generation’s Yardbirds,” Prince’s guitarist Dez Dickerson boasted to a reporter about the way everybody was splintering off Prince’s musical family tree and making solo records.

Dickerson himself wrote “He’s So Dull” for Vanity 6 and has done some solo recording. André Cymone, since leaving Prince’s band a year and a half ago, has signed a CBS contract and released an LP, Livin’ in the New Wave, on which he plays all the instruments and produces himself. Alexander has released a twelve-inch dance record, “Do You Dare.” Sue Ann, who had a hit in “Rock Me” a few years ago, has finished a new album, Inside Out. And the Time’s bassist, Terry Lewis, and keyboardist, Jimmy Jam, recently wrote and produced a couple of songs for the all-girl group Klymaxx.

“Minneapolis is a mini-Motown”, says Alexander, summing it up. “We’ll have a hell of a lot to do with the musical direction of the Eighties.”

But Minneapolis offers a kind of calm within the music industry, and they all stay on there, honing their acts. And while they’re working, they’re left alone. There’s no chasing limousines there. There aren’t any limousines carrying celebrities to the nightspots.

So nobody made a big deal of it when Prince walked into First Avenue, a club in downtown Minneapolis last summer, a rock club where images of Grand Master Flash, the Human League, the Clash and others flash in montage on the walls. What’s new? somebody asked Prince. Sheepishly, he held up a test pressing of 1999 that he had tucked under his arm. Later on, he asked the DJ to throw his new song, “Delirious,” on the turntable. And then, with his hottest record filling up the enormous room, Prince took Vanity out onto the middle of the dance floor to give his own record the ultimate test. They wiggled around, they strutted, they dipped. And Prince looked happy. It had a good beat. It was easy to dance to.

Prince and Vanity on the cover of Rolling Stone. Photography: Richard Avedon

Sickness - Jughead Jones Imagine

REQUESTED: Yes, by anon! <3

💊 or ⏰ with jughead please and thank you!

“💊 - character is sick”

WARNINGS: None, just kind of cute stuff

SUMMARY: Jughead hasn’t been in for a couple of days, and so you take it on yourself to go in and check on him to make sure he’s okay.

NOTES: So, this took a couple of days, because I’ve just started back at school, and I’ve been trying to make sure I’m up to date with everything.

(Which is difficult considering the amount of coursework I’m having to do :///)

Anyways, hope you enjoy this one guys! <3 (late imagine coming up as well<3)

Originally posted by juptern

Keep reading


I didn’t want to post photos of me on here but this, right here is what Borderline personality disorder looks like. People are fascinated by me. I’m never “dull” they say. I constantly hear “I wish I was more like you! You’re so unique and intriguing!”

No I’m sick. I’m mental ill. My BPD means I have 0 sense of self or what I want. A single movie, song, photo, person, smell, could trigger a personality switch. Many “interesting” celebrities like Marilyn Monroe and Anna Nicole smith were treated like exotic zoo animals. Trapped in a cage for all to admire. Both beautiful and interesting but sick, scared, and confused. Always searching for a purpose, for love and validation.

This is me. I am one of those zoo animals, but animals in captivity, though beautiful, die young. Don’t treat people with bpd different just because we change a lot. We aren’t your weird manic pixie dream girls.

anonymous asked:

ever since the first time I heard that song I just thought of Castiel I mean "I'm an angel with a shotgun ill fight until the wars won I don't care if heaven won't take me back"

i’ll THROW AWAY MY FAITH babe, just to KEEP YOU SAFE! Don’t you know you’re everything I have!!





Call i love, call it friendship, call it whatever the hell you want, but Castiel has literally thrown away everything for Dean Winchester. So says we, so says the Angels, so says the writers. You wanna call it friendship, awesome. But it’s true. And Dean loves him just as much in return, brotherly or otherwise. 

I will go down with this ship. And I won’t put my hands up and surrender.

What was the ask? I forget. I get carried away with Destiel Feels, sorry.

Word Count: 1171
Author’s Note: @from-kitten-to-kitsune requested “Jim/Reader where Jim discovers reader’s obsession with 1980s Earth music”, and once I found the google 80s singalong station tonight, I couldn’t help myself. Songs referenced: Kids In America (Kim Wilde), I Can’t Fight This Feelin’ Anymore (REO Speedwagon), Video Killed The Radio Star (The Buggles), Love Is A Battlefield (Pat Benatar), Footloose (Kenny Loggins), I Think We’re Alone Now (Tiffany). ALSO!! FIRST JIM IMAGINE!!!

“Bright lights the music gets faster. Look boy, don’t check on your watch, not another glance!” You bounced from foot to foot, arms in the air, swinging your hips, singing at the top of your lungs. There was no one else in the hangar and you were determined to enjoy making the repairs to the Galileo shuttle. Your PADD was cycling through your playlist and when the song came on, you knew it was time for a dance break. As the song ended, you realized you needed to take your new year’s resolution to be more active a little more seriously. You were damp with perspiration. You unzipped your coveralls, and tied the arms around your waist, thankful you’d been mindful enough to leave a tank top on under the thick canvas layer. The next song that came on was not as danceable, and you got back to work on fuel pump. It was soaking in a cleanser so you get the grime off and find out if it was a repair job or a replacement.

“That is not a regulation uniform, Y/N,” Scotty commented as he approached.

“I never wear my uniform when I’m doing mechanic work, Scotty, you know that,” you replied. “I was on par with Jim for wrecking uniforms until I switched to coveralls.”

“Aye, and my budget thanks you,” Scotty laughed. “I’m more worried about the bare arms and shoulders. If something falls, or leaks, or sprays, or explodes -”

“I get it. I’ll be careful, Scotty.” You cut him off with a promise. He sighed, knowing you were just trying to placate him.

“I won’t sign off on sick time if you get injured, lass. You’ll have to fight that with Bones and Jim all on your own,” he threatened.

“Copy that,” you nodded, and went back to the soaking pump. You scrubbed to the rhythm of REO Speedwagon, humming tunelessly. You held the scrub brush up like a microphone. “I’ve forgotten what I started fightin’ fooooooooor.” You heard footsteps on the other side of the shuttle and dropped the scrub brush back into the soak. The footsteps stopped as the song changed over. Your head started bopping again, forgetting that you might have company.

It didn’t take long for another of your favourites to come on, and soon you were dancing around beside the shuttle again, not paying attention to anything or anyone as you sang along. You nearly shrieked when a hand slipped into yours and pulled you close, changing the style of the dance, but not the carefree feeling of it. Whoever he was, he was holding you so close you hadn’t caught who it was, but from the command Gold and the warm scent of cinnamon, oranges and amber, you guess it was Jim. You pulled back and smiled in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t take you for a classical fan,” he laughed. You shook your head.

“Depends to what classics you’re referring,” you countered. “This is kind of my jam. I’m not too keen on anything earlier than 20th century though. I mean, unless I can’t sleep, and then me and Bach have a hot date.”

“You know, I could help you with the sleeplessness,” he winked. “Say, your playlist have any -”

“Everyone knows you love the Beastie Boys, sir. My playlist had Licensed to Ill before I was on the Enterprise,” you interrupted. “I like most of that decade.” The song changed over and you smiled.

“I think we studied this song in philosophy of war,” Jim teased.

“Love is a battlefield?” You laughed, and pulled out of his arms. “Sounds like most of your Academy experience, from what I’ve heard.”

“You wound me.” He grasped his chest for emphasis. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t you have a starship to captain?” You arched an eyebrow.

“Y/N! So cold!” He doubled over.

“You’ll get over it, sir.” You winked and went back to work.

The repairs on the shuttle were taking longer than you’d anticipated. Parts that should have been simple repairs were either more complicated for no discernable reason, or needed outright replacement. You were finally through the fuel pump, but it had taken a couple of days. You were finally squaring away the last of the wiring to the shields after a long afternoon of fighting with them, and you needed a break. As you rose, you flipped a few songs forward, needing a dance party to loosen up. The opening riff of the song almost echoed in the empty hangar. The theme and rhythm invited you to stretch out and before long, you were bouncing along to the music again. Lost in the music, you didn’t see Scotty coming to warn you that Jim was headed down to inspect the shuttle, nor did you notice when he rolled his eyes and backed away, unwilling to disrupt you.

You found yourself back in Jim’s arms, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. “We keep meeting like this, at this same nightclub. I’m drawn to your high ponytail and dance moves,” he teased, a half-cocked grin on his face.

“And I think you’re that bad boy that everyone has warned me about?” You countered.

“Bad boy with a heart of gold. Just misunderstood,” he winked. You shook your head.

“I know your type, Jim Kirk. You’re one of those good time boys. Good one time, then you vanish,” you challenged. He laughed, a genuine, real, belly laugh, his head thrown back with amusement.

“I like you,” he admitted. “Probably more than I should. I might even find you interesting, with your weird outfits, and wrong side of the track background.”

“Wait, which trope are we playing here, Jim? Are you the bad boy, or am I the bad girl?” Your nose wrinkled in a confused smile. You reached for him, putting your hand on his arm, and suddenly, his smile wasn’t put on, or cheesy, and he wasn’t playing games.

“Join me for dinner in my quarters, Y/N.” His serious tone was a strange contrast against the background of the cheesy Tiffany track. You tilted your head to the side and took him in. He meant it. You nodded.

“I’ll need about an hour to get washed up, and changed,” you agreed. He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped, walked back to you, and pulled you back into his arms, kissing you before you even knew what he was after. You nearly went limp in his arms. “Oh, uh.”

“Dinner,” he nodded and cleared his throat before turning to leave again.

“So I take it you like the side pony?” You found your voice long enough to tease him again. He stopped, and turned back, staying where he was this time.

“I might tear your clothes off if you wear it,” he said, all seriousness. You gaped for a moment, uncertain what to say. He was halfway down the hangar when your voice returned.

“Did you like it on the left better, or the right?” You called.

Her name was Shireen. She would be ten on her next name day, and she was the saddest child that Maester Cressen had ever known.

“Your mother must rest, sweet child.  She’ll see you when she is stronger.  Go on now.  Go on.”

Every day, Maester Cressen turns her away, and every day, Shireen goes back to her bedchamber to find something to occupy herself.  Sometimes it is needlework, sometimes it is the toys Ser Davos has brought her, and sometimes it is one of the heavy books she has taken from Maester Cressen’s study.  Sometimes, Patches sits with her, the bells on his hat jingling as he watches her.  Sometimes they play.  More often, they sit quietly and Shireen tries not to think what will happen if her mother doesn’t get well.

Her mother has been sick for more than two weeks now.  Maester Cressen says she will be well, and that Shireen should not worry, but how can Shireen not worry when she hasn’t even seen her mother?  Her mother is one of the few people Shireen sees–when her mother is ill and Shireen can’t spend time with her, the days seem emptier than ever they had before.

Part of her wishes she was back in King’s Landing.  For all she knew that the people at court giggled and pointed at her mottled skin, at least she had Tommen and Myrcella to play with.

Shireen goes to her mother at sunset, when she knows that Maester Cressen will be with his ravens.  His hips trouble him, and it takes him a good long while to reach them, and she’ll have a moment with her mother before he shoos her away.  Shireen brings her book with her–The Songs of the Stormlands.  Lady Marya had given it to her when she’d turned eight, though Lady Marya could not read.

Her mother is pale, and sweat covers her brow and her eyes are glazed when she sees Shireen.

“Shireen, my love, you shouldn’t be here.  You’ll fall ill yourself,” she says.  Her voice is dry and throaty and Shireen crosses the room and climbs up into the chair she’s sure Maester Cressen usually occupies.

“Don’t send me away,” she pleads.  “I…I’ve missed you.”  

Her mother’s lips part in a smile.  “I’ve missed you too, but I wouldn’t have you ill.”

“Then I’d best not fall ill.  But if I do, I am good at recovering.”  She reaches up and pats her stone skin.  “I thought I’d read to you.  It must be awfully dull in here by yourself.”

Her mother looks at her, her eyelids heavy.  Then she smiles.  “I would like that,” she admits.  “I would like that very much.”

Shireen smiles down at her mother, and feels her heart swelling.  She opens her book and finds her favorite song and begins to recite.  It may only be for an hour–mayhaps even less, but for the moment, Shireen is not lonely.

About the burning dude in Fire MV

Ok so there’s a thing I, as a classic rock fan, always wanted to point out but thought it was way too stupid. I still think it’s stupid lol but here it goes.

So Yoongi sees someone, then holds their hand and when he plays his music again, the person burns:

Ok so I always thought it was funny how this handshake resembles the one in the album art for Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here:

But then, watching closely Wings short films, in First Love Yoongi enters a music store… which shows the album right behind the door:

So yeah, it’s a music store and there are tons of other albums inside and this is a very famous one but IDK, I just thought it was funny how they put it there after Fire.

Also, Wish You Were Here is an album about: loneliness and longing for someone (in the title song), about missing a lost friend who was, let’s say bright like a diamond, and touches mental illness (Shine on You Crazy Diamond) solitude and the pressures of society -and fame/music industry-, and how we fall into these “traps” (Welcome to the Machine and Have a Cigar).

So this probably means absolutely nothing and it’s just me fangirling about two of my favorite music acts ever, but honestly, I find these references lovely. And you know, all indicates that Yoongi does in fact miss someone so… yeah

So what do I do with this?  | Max/Shane Playlist

//Stray Italian Greyhound . Vienna Teng / When the Day Met the Night . Panic! At the Disco / All I Want . James Durbin / Disgusting . Miranda Cosgrove / Please Don’t Say You Love Me . Gabrielle Aplin / Deer In The Headlights . Owl City / Wishes and Dreams . Stellar Kart / As You Are . Garfunkel and Oates / Flashlight . Jessie J//