You see, I think drugs have done some good things for us. I really do. And if you don’t believe drugs have done good things for us, do me a favor. Go home tonight. Take all your albums, all your tapes and all your CDs and burn them. ‘Cause you know what, the musicians that made all that great music that’s enhanced your lives throughout the years were real fucking high on drugs. The Beatles were so fucking high they let Ringo sing a few tunes.
Summary: Y/N and Harry party together (drink & smoke) and have sex.
Warnings: alcohol, drug use, sex, Y/N dom, 69ing
A/N: Thank you to whoever requested this! Sorry it took me so long! I wrote this imagine a while ago, and I meant to post it, but then when I went to find it in my files, it was gone! :( But anyways, I hope you enjoy it!!
You don’t know how you ended up getting here. You were the “good girl” in school. You didn’t smoke, or drink, or party back then. And now you are here in a room at a party full of marijuana smoke making out with a musician who doesn’t even know your name.
It all started back at the party you attended earlier tonight. You weren’t invited, but that was your thing. You showed up, and people would just let you in. It’s easy to look like you belong in the “Hollywood” scene. You were pretty, but you were confident. So when you walked into any of those parties, eyes were on you, but again, no one knew who you were, which made you more intriguing. That’s how Harry noticed you. You didn’t show up with group, you didn’t look around for anyone, you just were there. And you looked content, you weren’t trying to be anyone else, you weren’t trying to have everyone’s eyes on you, but they were.
Harry looked at his friend and asked, “Who is she?”
His friend turned to look at you and shrugs his shoulders and says, “No idea, never her seen her before. But I’m glad I have now.” He says lifting his eye brows, licking his lips, checking you out.
“Hey, don’t be gross man.” Harry says.
“Dude, you don’t even know her.” The friend says defensively.
“Still.” Harry says, “I’m going to get another drink, any of you want one?” Harry says seeing that you walking over to get a drink.
Everyone says no, and Harry walks over quickly. When he walks over, and he sees you pouring your drink and is surprised saying, “That’s a lot rum and a little bit of coke.”
You look up at him and joke, “Yeah, I’m not a pussy.”
Harry laughs, and says, “Well, I guess I’m a pussy, because that stuff burns with that little amount of coke.” Which causes you to laugh.
“I’m Harry by the way.” Harry says, grabbing a drink.
“I know who you are.” You state, “I’ve listened to your music, not bad stuff.”
“Thanks, you’re a fan?” He asks.
“Let’s say I’m a fan of music.” You say smiling, “and your music, just happens to be some of the music I like.”
After that you don’t really remember much else. You know you and Harry went into a room so it would be quieter to talk. And you two laughed, drank, smoked, and now you are here. Straddling him, both of your shirts off, and he’s undoing your bra. Are you mad about it? No. He’s seems like a decent guy, and he’s hot.
“I still don’t know your name.” Harry states while he kisses down your neck.
“Don’t worry babe, you’ll know it when I’ll have you yelling my name.” You say pushing him down the bed.
You stand up off the bed, and pull down your jeans and you underwear. You were never dominant in the bedroom, but you’re high and you’re feeling confident.
“I hear musicians are good with their mouths.” You say taking off your clothes, which causes Harry to smirk.
“I don’t know about other musicians, but, I haven’t gotten any complaints.” He says putting his arms behind his head, with a smirk on his face.
You hate it when guys are cocky, but in bed, it’s the hottest thing. At this words, you felt the wetness between your legs.
“Well, I’d like to see what you can do Styles.” You say climbing on the bed, swinging on leg over on the other side of this head so you are straddling his mouth.
Harry immediately begins to make you moan. He first focused on your clit. He licked circles on, then sucked on it as it got more swollen and sensitive. Then he poked his tongue into your hole teasingly.
With the amount of pleasure Harry was giving you, you wanted to do that same or him. You were in the 69 position. You spit on your hand, and pumped his cock a few times. Then you bent over, and took on his head in your mouth. You swirled you tongue around it, which caused Harry to moan, causing vibrations against you core, which felt so good. Then you began to take him fully. As you bobbed your head, you put both of your hands on his thighs to keep you steady as you began to grind against mouth.
Harry could feel you getting close as your core tightened around his tongue. He then focused on your clit sucking on it, wanting you to cum so he could taste you so badly.
You stopped sucking Harry off and just began to focus on grinding on him because you were so close.
“Harry, I’m close. I’m so close. Make me cum.” You moan out. “Make me cum, oh my-“
And before you could finish, you felt the stream of euphoria take of your whole body. You moans out Harry’s name and left marks on his thighs from pleasure.
As you finished, you tried to put you head down to finish Harry off, but Harry stopped you, and said “I need to fuck you. I’m way too hard, and you’re so wet an warm, I need to fuck you.”
As you swing your leg over, so that you are no longer straddling him, Harry grabs and condom and rolls it on. When he’s done you straddle him again, and place your hands flat on his chest. When he first enters you, you close your eyes at the full feeling. You loves, he reached all the pleasurable spot.
You began bouncing on top of him, every time he thrusted into you, he hit your g-spot. Harry could see this as you would moan louder each time you bounced. Even though Harry was close, he wanted to see your face when you cum. He loved the sight he was already seeing, your breasts bouncing every time you came down on his cock, but he wanted to see you cum undone. So he grabbed your hips and thrusting up into you.
“Lick you finger and play with your clit.” He ordered as he pounded into you.
You did as he said, and you felt your second orgasm coming on.
“Harry, I’m gonna cum. Harry, Harry, Harry!” You scream, scratching your nails down his chest. Harry doesn’t stop thrusting. He thrusted you through your orgasm, as he was getting close.
Harry couldn’t take it anymore, and flipped you two over, and pounded into you hard.
“You feel so fucking good-.” He groans.
“Y/N” You answer finally giving him you name.
Harry bites his lips and goes, “Y/N, fuck yes, so good, mmh so good!” He groans out as he thrusts through his orgasm.
After Harry finishes he lays down next to with his arms behind his head and you watch his chest move up and down and you watch his eyes close. You decide to get up and get dressed and leave. When you were about to close the door you heard Harry say,
“Y/N, that’s a pretty name.”
A/N: I didn’t focus too much on the drugs this time, I hope that’s okay with whoever requested it! Thank you to whoever requested it! I hope you all have a good day!!
In kiwi what do you think he means with im kind of liking it?
the fame, he likes being what he is (a songwriter, musician, not a womanizer) cause he likes his job but there are some prices to pay and this ‘girl’ that represents the stunts he had to do (and is still doing) is one of the prices. He didn’t want to do it and the screams/agony in the song send this kind of message but he still had to cause industry and world sucks and if they want the good you have to get the bad too. It’s like the little mermaid that wanted to have legs to go to the prince he loved but she had to give his voice away in order to do it. Again, I really don’t think this is a girl but the personification of his stunts.
When we were younger I promised you the world and as we grew I found myself carrying just that upon my back and I kept thinking I would crack but you, you are so intelligent and lovely and I would still give you anything, anything you want I’ll build it in-between our palms with my own blood my own sweat, my own love and death Everything I am, as little as it is belongs to you just as it always did and as you lay me down upon the bed it smells of roses My time with you means more than everything your smile, your eyes, the way you softly sing to me and I was only wanting you to stay for the rest of our lives All the midnight talks and silly things we laughed about for seasons breathing nothing but the love you never felt for me and now I hear the ambulances distant in the night time I feel nothing but you next to me, the warmth of fire aside and broken glass sounds just like chimes My glossy eyes see just your silhouette and I know that everything will be ok You’ve always been my greatest friend and even though I’m on my way I hope you know my heart will never change Everything I am as little as it is belongs to you just as it always did and as you lay me down upon the bed, it smells of roses
AN: I hope you enjoy this imagine and thank you for the request! Shoutout to April for this gif lol
Also, based on the request there were some blanks I had to fill. Hopefully it’s fine and you still enjoy it!!
Shawn had known since an early stage in your relationship the strain shared between your father and yourself. It pained him to no end, seeing how tense it made you anytime he was brought up.
Shawn helped in every way possible, too. He cared so much, and often you wondered how you deserved such an amazing person to join you in a seemingly fucked up life.
Today, however, was your fathers birthday. Usually all you did was send him a text, or mail a card, hoping to avoid any, and all, face to face communication. The idea of even seeing him filled your mind with anxiety, but knowing Shawn would be there made it more manageable.
“We can leave whenever you want, ok? Don’t be afraid to tell me you’re uncomfortable. I won’t let him upset you.”
You nod, not being about to trust your voice in this moment, or your choice words, making Shawn’s feel small. You needed to stay strong and having a mental breakdown wouldn’t help anything.
You checked yourself out in the bathroom mirror, making sure each hair was in perfect place. Along with any wrinkles in your dress. That was always something your dad called you out on. Everything needed to be perfect, no excuses. A wrinkled dress meant a messy, careless person.
This is a public service announcement...with guitar. Lots of guitar
Thank you all for tuning in during Serpentine Sheldon, Serpentine’s annual synth pop tribute. Only five of you “unfollowed “, which is normal for a week on Tumblr anyway. Besides, two unfollows were porn, and while I should feel happy about that I somehow feel a bit wistful. Was it the collar roll stuff?
Today Spotify recommended The Zep, The Clash, The Greatest Rock And Roll Band In The World and some ‘Oo. And I always obey the all-knowing Algorithm. So, our regular programming resumes next week. With the occasional silly solipsism mixed in. You have been warned.
Royalty AU kids would have such fun sassing their parents. Shouto tells a kid "Your mother wants to talk to you. Go see her." and the kid responds, "Which mother? The queen? The royal bard? Or maybe your consort the knight general~" Exasperated Shouto sigh then, "Izuku is a man, he's your father if anything... and Jirou is visiting her parents. Enough stalling." The kid pouts because Momo is the parent best at disciplining, and they probably did something they shouldn't have. :P
i like to think tddk and momojirou have grilled into their kids the way they should address each parent in public, like “my father the king”, “my mother the queen”, “my father the consort knight general” and “my mother the consort head musician”, but in private the kids just use “mom” and “dad”, causing much confusion among the parents b/c there are two sets.
perhaps tddk and momojirou are of differing ethnicity, and shouto and momo’s marriage was brought up in the first place to join the kingdoms (and, thereby, their countries) together. the kids refer to shouto as father in tddk’s language, and izuku as father in momojirou’s language. momo is referred to as mother in momojirou’s language, and jirou is referred to as mother in tddk’s language. the consorts being referred to in the opposite language is a sign of good faith or smth.
(This fic mentions suicide, however nothing is described. If this bothers you, please do not read.
I do not claim to know what Nathan would say, think, do, or feel in any situation at any time. This is merely a work of fiction meant to entertain.)
Being an adult really sucks monkey-butt, you thought sourly as you trudged through the front door.
A wide yawn escaped your lips as you shut the door and locked it. It felt so good to finally be home after being at work all day, and better yet, it was the weekend! You were one of the few blessed to not work on the weekends, and you relished it. The past week seemed to just drag, and often you were so tired when you got home that you did nothing more than eat dinner and either watch TV, or watch Nate play video games. Unfortunately, this past week also included dealing with a moody Natemare, which neither you nor Nate had the patience to deal with. You were so ready for a break.
Speaking of, where were those two? Usually one of them greeted you when you got home.
“Nate, you home?” you called out.
No reply. The same thing happened when you called out for Natemare. Where was everybody? Once you sat your purse on the coffee table in the living room, you fished your phone out of your pants’ pocket and saw that your text alert was flashing. You wondered how you missed the message, but then remembered that you had put it on silent while at work and forgotten to turn the volume back up. Once you unlocked the device you saw that you had a text from Nate, sent about thirty minutes ago.
Hey gonna be working late. This is taking longer than I thought it would >:/
You chuckled and tapped your phone to type a reply.
Was wondering where you were. Sorry I didn’t reply sooner, I forgot to take my phone off silent. And no biggy, but I expect some Nate bonding tomorrow, mister! >:(
After hitting send, you grabbed your purse and tiredly made your way to your bedroom. Once the ceiling light was turned on, you placed your purse on top of your dresser and tossed your phone onto the bed. As you went about doing your nightly routine, you heard your phone chime with a new text. With night shirt in hand, you snatched up the phone and unlocked it.
Das ok. And duh, of course we are. Morgan threatened me with bodily harm if we didn’t hang out tomorrow. I dunno when I’ll be home though.
You slipped your shirt on before replying, Damn straight. Be safe coming home.
It sometimes worried you when Nate stayed late at the studio and then drove home, fearing him falling asleep at the wheel. So far that hasn’t happened, but it didn’t stop you from thinking about it.
Your friend texted back as you walked into the kitchen to get some dinner. Deciding on reheating the pizza left over from yesterday, you placed three slices onto a plate and popped it into the microwave. Leaning against the counter, you opened the text.
Just as you were about to put your phone down, you remembered something and brought the message back up.
BTW is Natemare with you? I didn’t see him when I came home.
Natemare frequently liked to follow Nate to the studio, and it was hit or miss on whether Nate would come home grumpy or not, depending on Natemare’s mood. At first you both thought it was solely because he wanted to cause trouble for the musician, but after getting to know the shadow creature, you found it was much more than that.
Nope haven’t seen him. He’s probably some where in the house being his moody self.
I gotta go now, I’ll talk to you later.
You typed back, K have fun.
The microwave beeped just as you hit send. You took the plate out and sat it on the counter.
I wonder where he is then? You thought as you grabbed your favorite drink out of the fridge.
Had you not been so tired you would have looked for him, but you could practically hear the couch calling your name, and with your empty stomach angrily making itself known, you eagerly walked into the living room and sat down on the comfy furniture, all thoughts of Natemare left behind. You could feel the day’s tension melting away as you relaxed into the plump cushions, letting out a soft moan of content.
Ah, sitting. Sitting is wonderful.
Turning the television on along with the blu-ray player, you decided on watching the movie that Nate had left in there instead of flipping through channels and maybe finding something. You placed your drink on the coffee table after taking a sip from it and settled in as Captain America: The Winter Soldier started.
Roughly thirty-five minutes passed and you had since devoured the pizza and downed the drink. With a full stomach and a blanket now wrapped around you, you were starting to feel quite sleepy. Just as your eyes were about to drift shut, the sound of a door opening down the hall snapped them back open and brought you to attention. You looked in the direction of the hallway.
“Natemare?” you called.
“Mm hmm,” he responded.
The dark side walked into view, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped. Even from your position on the couch, you could see that his eyes were partially black, which in turn made you notice how much bolder the stripes under his eyes were. They only got that way when he…oh, no.
“Mare, have you been crying?” you gently inquired.
A shrug was your only response.
“Where have you been all day?”
“Nate’s room,” he hoarsely answered.
“Nate’s room?” you said in a confused tone. “But he said he hasn’t seen you.”
Looking off to the side, almost in shame, Natemare quietly replied, “I was in the closet.”
The closet? …oh. Oh, shit!
In that moment you felt like the biggest asshole to ever walk the earth. And you were sure that once you told Nate, he would feel even worse. How could you not have noticed? Natemare always went into a week long funk leading up to his really bad days, and you and Nate had been so preoccupied with your own lives that you didn’t even care to notice. You felt your cheeks heat up in pure embarrassment and your heart drop into your stomach.
“Mare, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-” you put your face in your hands, “I am seriously an ass.”
“S'okay. You’ve both been really busy.”
You shook your head. “No, that’s not an excuse.” You stood up from the couch, tossing the blanket aside, and went to stand in front of Natemare. You had dealt with his fits before, but Nate was much better at it. Being that Natemare was born from Nate, it made sense that the shadow wielder took comfort in his lighter half. That didn’t stop you from trying, and though he never admitted it, it made him happy that you cared enough to.
He glanced up at you with tear filled eyes before turning his gaze back to the floor. The guilt was eating away at you; you knew you had to do something. Biting your bottom lip, you looked over at the movie, then to him.
“Why don’t you come sit with me?” you offered softly. “The movie still has a long ways to go.”
You held up your hand for him to take. He looked at you for a second, then down to your waiting hand. His own came out of his pocket and hovered over yours, hesitating. You smiled at him, allowing him to go at his own pace. You had been impatient with Natemare for far too long. The reward was great as he placed his hand in yours, cold flesh meeting warm. He was always so cold.
Nonetheless, you grasped his hand and led him over to the couch where you both sat down. He let go of your hand, which slightly disappointed you, only for him to lay down and place his head in your lap. Tears dripped off his face and onto your legs as he curled up; it felt like ice water. You grabbed the blanket from earlier and draped it over his body, bringing it up to his shoulders, hoping it would warm him up. He snuggled more into you and curled up tighter.
We’ve ignored him so much this week. I feel so bad, you thought sadly as you settled against the couch. I can’t even imagine what must have been going through his mind every time we brushed him aside.
You were brought out of your thoughts when you felt Natemare grab your hand and place it on his head, silently asking for you to pet him. Giggling, you complied with his request and gently carded your fingers through his soft black hair. There was a low rumble in his chest as you did that, sounding almost like a purr. Nate always said that Natemare was just like a cat, and you couldn’t help but agree.
The heat from the blanket, your soothing pets, plus the movie playing, had lulled Natemare into a calm sleep. There were black stains on your skin from where his tears had dried, but you didn’t care. Even if they never washed away, that was okay- they would always serve as a reminder to be more aware of what was going on around you.
As Steve and Bucky duked it out on the helicarrier, you decided to let Nate know what had transpired. Grabbing your phone off the armrest, you unlocked it and went to your messages with Nate.
With one hand, you typed, So I found out why Mare’s been so moody lately and where he’s been all day.
You hadn’t really expected Nate to reply quickly since he was so busy, but when your phone chimed five minutes later, you quickly snatched it up. You hoped the sound hadn’t woken Natemare up. After a tense few seconds, he remained asleep. You let out a quiet sigh of relief and opened the message.
You were mildly annoyed at the one word reply.
He’s been in your closet.
That was all you needed to say. As soon as you hit send, you turned your phone on silent before it woke Natemare up. Almost immediately Nate replied.
Fuck fuck how did I miss that?! Dammit!
How is he? Is he ok?
Looking down at Natemare’s sleeping form, a small smile appeared on your face.
Asleep now. I feel so awful Nate. He was so sad when he came out of your room. We’ve practically ignored him all week.
You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so guilty. Tears welled in your eyes as you thought more about it, your heart feeling like it was going to shatter.
I know and the signs were so obvious. I’m coming home, this stuff can wait.
Now this actually surprised you. Short of his house being set on fire, it was nearly impossible to drag Nate away from the studio. He must have felt horrendous to leave a project unfinished, because if there was one thing he hated, it was not completing what he set out to do.
You don’t have to do that. He’s fast asleep and will probably just sleep the rest of the night. Finish your stuff.
The possibility of Natemare waking up on his own was slim, as he tended to sleep like a rock once he finally could go to sleep.
I’m already on my way. I can finish in the morning.
“Alright, then,” you murmured.
Natemare let out a soft groan and shifted slightly, prompting you to cover your mouth and pray that you hadn’t just woke him up. Thankfully he only turned so that he was facing your stomach, snuggling into it. You had to keep yourself from giggling when he hit a ticklish spot on your stomach. You fondly smiled at him.
Why are you so adorable when you sleep? If anybody saw you like this, it would never even occur to them just what you are capable of. If you wanted to, you could kill all of us without breaking a sweat, yet you choose not to. I used to be afraid of you, you know. I’d heard such awful things about what the other dark sides had done to their other halves, and I was so scared that you would try to hurt Nate and everybody he cared about. But you didn’t. You were so broken when Nate brought you home, he didn’t think you’d ever recover.
You frowned as painful memories began to resurface. Sometimes he would call me in tears, because you had just tried to commit suicide again. This was all before I met you, before I moved in. Tears of shame welled in your eyes and trailed down your cheeks at the next memory. I’ll never tell you this, but part of me hoped you would die, so that Nate would be safe and live in peace. Your bottom lip started to quiver as more tears fell, and you had to fight to not let out a sob. But even when your mind finally settled down and you could think clearly, I still didn’t want you around. You were causing so much trouble for Nate, and when I finally moved in, you bugged the daylights out of me.
It wasn’t until I saw your first break down, at least, first for me, that I began to understand why you acted the way you did. You don’t deserve to die, Natemare, you didn’t even ask to live. I tried to be more patient and understanding after that, but I know I wasn’t always the best. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat, you tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling. I want to try harder, though, because even though you bring utter chaos wherever you go, I love you, and I can’t imagine my life without you there.
You weren’t sure when you realized that you did, in fact, love the dark man, you just knew you did. Did Natemare know this? After being so blasé with him all week, it wouldn’t surprise you if he thought you hated him. His attempts to kill himself may have stopped, but his emotions were still pretty fragile, which he attempted to hide behind manic grins and disorder. Oh, you knew he liked to be a pest, there was no denying that. Sometimes he would see just how far he could push you or Nate or any of your other friends before one of you exploded. That was his base nature.
You faintly chuckled. Never a dull moment.
The weariness you felt earlier came back, making it a struggle to keep your eyes open. You had wanted to stay awake until Nate got home, yet it seemed that wasn’t going to happen. Sleep won as your eyelids slid closed and you drifted off.
Nate arrived home twenty minutes after you had fallen asleep. He hurried to get the door unlocked and opened. The sight that greeted him when he got it open and went inside stopped the singer in his tracks, as he beheld you and Natemare snuggled together on the couch.
Okay, this is way too precious, Nate thought as he slid his phone out of his pocket and turned on the camera to take a picture.
Once he saved it, he re-pocketed the phone and quietly approached the couch. Both of you looked to be in a peaceful slumber, which was a relief to him. The youtuber felt horrible for the way he had treated Natemare when he was struggling so much. Like you, Nate had come to care deeply for his other half, and seeing him in pain hurt Nate as well.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Nate whispered.
Nate jumped slightly at the unexpected question. “Did I wake you?”
“You weren’t exactly being quiet when you opened the door,” Natemare whispered back, partially opening his eyes and turning his head so he could see Nate.
“Oh, right, sorry. I was in a hurry to see you.”
Natemare furrowed his brow in confusion. “You were? Wait, why are you home? You can’t be finished with the recording yet.”
Shrugging, Nate replied, “There’s not much left, I can finish in the morning. But to answer your other question, yes, I am sorry.” A look of guilt appeared on his face. “I’ve been a crap friend.”
“We both have,” you mumbled.
Nate watched as you forced your eyes to open, tilting your head down so you could see both boys. Your neck had become stiff from keeping it leaned back so long, causing you to groan and rub the back of it.
Natemare shrugged. “I can’t expect you guys to put your lives on hold every time my brain decides to go insane.”
“You’re not insane, Mare,” you said, followed with a yawn.
“I think some people would debate you on that,” Natemare retorted.
“Well, to be fair, you do like to scare the hell out of everyone,” Nate said lightheartedly.
A small grin spread across Natemare’s mouth, causing Nate to smile as well.
“Yeah, that’s true.” The grin faded into a frown. “I just…I can’t always help it. It’s just,” he sighed tiredly and placed a hand over his eyes, “how I was born.”
“We know that, dude. I wish I could take it all away,” Nate said honestly.
“Me too,” you agreed. “I wish we could help more.”
Lowering his hand, Natemare pressed his cheek closer to your lap as his thumb gently caressed your black-stained skin. “You already do,” he mumbled. “You’re my friends.”
There was a stinging sensation in Nate’s eyes as he felt his heart swell with emotion. Leaning forward, he tenderly placed his forehead against his doppleganger’s. “Yeah, buddy, we are.”
You felt yourself choke up again at the intimate display. Sniffling, you gripped Natemare’s shoulder and laid a sweet kiss on the top of his head. “And we aren’t going anywhere. That’s a promise.”
Closing his dark eyes, black tears trailed down Natemare’s cheeks, a low purr rumbling in his chest. He knew that as long as he had you two there to help him fight through this, he would be alright.
~Oh. Oh my god. Oh my GOSH! That was so cute! And it was so good! If you ever make a blog to write fanfiction, I need to be the first to know. Because I would follow you so fast!~
So I recently saw a post featuring an AU where everything was reversed and Samwell was a southern college? and someone chimed in about Cajun!Jack and oh boy do I have some ideas. Unfortunately I can’t find the post to properly credit the original idea so if someone could link me I’d love you forever.
free to request imagines, fics, gifsets etc. via my AskBox or DM’s.
a lovely day!
He’s a small-time musician, performing a
local gig with his bandmates, in the process of making it big.
She’s an aspiring dancer with an affinity for walking the
streets of downtown after everyone in the citie’s gone to sleep.
Everyone, that is, but him.
line of street lamps casting pools of iridescent golden light against the
sidewalk was comforting in a way, somehow far more peaceful than the world
appears during the daytime. I’m not sure why it is, really, that I prefer the
night- I suppose it’s always been that way. There’s something so honest, and
magical about a place, after the people, and the sun, and the noise have gone
to sleep. Maybe it’s because my dance recitals and performances have always
been in the evening, after the sun has faded from the sky. Maybe it’s the way
the stars appear against a backdrop of jet black atmosphere, showing their true
selves after a long day of being blocked out by the sun. Maybe there’s just
something peaceful about a city at night- the quietude, the feeling that maybe,
just maybe, you’re the only person left in the whole world. I think that
thought scares most people, but it’s never bothered me. Maybe that’s why most
people prefer the daytime- where it’s safe, and busy, and there are no stars to
watch or ponder on what it must be like out there. For me, it’s never been a
competition- I’d take a thousand nights if I could have it my way- to walk through
a quiet town, and dance in deserted streets, and stop and stare at the sky for
as long as I pleased, without a single soul watching me, wondering what I might
be doing, staring at the sky. Because the truth is, I don’t really have a
reason, some things are just beautiful- and it seems like an injustice to not
appreciate beautiful things.
I stared down at
the watch on my wrist. The time read: 10:24pm.
I smiled softly to myself as I stepped out the front door of the quaint,
two-story brick house, on the corner of Maple and 6th street- the
house I’d lived my entire life in. Tying the laces on my black and white Adidas
sneakers and zipping my mint green jogger’s jacket halfway up, I took a deep breath,
and began to walk. Downtown was only a few blocks from the house, and though it
was a big metropolis, we had a variety of things to make our small city
appreciable by most everyone. There was, of course, a handful of shops through
Main Street, The Grant Hill movie theater, the Institute of Art and Dance
(where I spent the majority of my time, other than school), Acorn Park
(adorable; squirrel filled), Metro Park (not-so adorable; trash filled) a small
B&B, and The Randolph House (the place where comedy acts, local play
productions, and small-time musicians would perform. As I neared the center of
town, I could hear elated cheers and screaming come from a couple blocks down,
clearly creating a far greater cacophony of adolescent hysteria than I had
anticipated for this hour of the evening. I sighed, running a hand through my
obsidian colored hair as I made a hard-right turn, making my way down a side street
that avoided the bustle that was congregating around The Randolph House. “There must be some up-and-coming musician playing
there if it’s causing this much of a scene” I thought to myself as I stuffed
my hands in my pockets, moving swiftly so as not to be held up by late night traffic.
I crossed the street that teed with Main Street, glancing over my shoulder
slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of a crowd of girls probably around my
age, flooding the streets and waving their arms uproariously as a handful of
figures, five maybe, waved and
smiled, before being hustled into a car. I thought, for a split second, that I
caught the eyes of one of the distant figures, but it was dark out, and I could
have been mistaken. I shook my head as the car headed down the road, only
driving a couple blocks before turning down the road that lead towards the town
B&B. So they were staying the night?
I shrugged softly to myself, side-stepping out of the way of the teenage girl mob
as I made my way down a side street, and finally out of sight from the
Hey @hajime-isayama-official , I ended redrawing the edgy-punk girl for my friend? What do you think? Also I found out he wanted to use it because he wanted to use her for his album cover cause he’s an aspiring musician/song writer. Are you proud of me Hajimama??
Cause it’s always nice to know that you’re not alone, and that it happens to the best of us.
I have to start out the list with Glenn Gould *fans self with hands* who considered audiences evil (literally) : “I detest audiences. I think they are a force of evil.” But hey, he left extensive recordings so I won’t complain.
Vladimir Horowitz *dreamy sigh*, famous pianist known for his ability to enthrall audiences, retired from performing publicly several times due to severe stage fright.
Then there’s the unforgettable tenor Andrea Bocelli. In an interview with Tom Bryan, he discloses that stage fright never goes away: “It always happens and it’s a big problem. Everything that’s simple suddenly becomes unbelievably complicated. It’s almost a disease. (…) It has nothing to do with how many times you’ve been on stage. It’s something that accompanies you for all your life.
Pablo Casals, cellist, told his interviewer Josep Maria Corredor in Conversations with Casals: “Nerves and stage fright before playing have never left me through-out the whole of my career. Can you realize that at each of the thousands of concerts I played at, I felt as bad as I did on that first occasion?”
Adolf Henselt, also a pianist, considered by many to be on the same level as Lizst, was “terrified of the public”. Schonberg writes in his book Great Pianists: “When playing with an orchestra, (Henselt) would hide in the wings until the opening tutti was over, rush out and literally pounce on the piano. On one occasion he forgot to put aside the cigar he was nervously chomping - this was in Russia - and playing the concerto cigar in mouth, smoking away, much to the amusement of the Czar. The mere thought of giving a concert made him physically ill.” (Honestly, the cigar part makes me giggle)
Renee Fleming *heart eyes emoji*, American soprano, admits frankly to have dealt with stage fright. In an interview with Imogen Tilden she says: “I have had a very difficult time with stage fright; it undermines your wellbeing and peace of mind, and it can also threaten your livelihood.”
There are so many more who belong on this list: Argerich (who once cut her finger in order to cancel a performance), Bolet, Rubinstein, CHOPIN… Just know that if they - the greats - went on stage, performed so spectacularly, so unforgettably, despite their fears… you can too.