Author’s Note: someone stop kim taehyung 2k17 Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (oc; female) Genre: Classical Violinist!Tae; smut; au Summary: As Taehyung’s Muse, he often calls you when he needs you the most. Rating: NC-17 Warnings: explicit sex; dirty talk; spanking; light edging Word Count: 3,643
When you arrive, the first, and only, sound you hear is the sound of him playing. Rigorous, frustrated, passionate, he presses against the strings with fervor, his strong arm turning the violin into thunder. His rhythm is pointed, sure, the speed of his bow against the strings wild in its fury and arresting in its perfection. Already, he is possessing you, controlling the flow of your blood with the movements of his fingers - and you are not even near enough to see him.
rvasymphony: Tonight Meegan Warner (Mary Woodhull), Kevin McNally (Judge Richard Woodhull), Daniel Henshall (Caleb Brewster), Burn Gorman (Major Hewlett), Seth Numrich (Ben Talmadge) and Samuel Roukin (Lt. John Simcoe) from @turn_amc visited @rvasymphony! Find out why and see more pictures on Thursday! #turnamc
Anon: I have a request for Sherlock x Reader if you feel up for it. Maybe like one day Sherlock does an experiment on one of the readers favorite things they own and so the reader gets angry and Sherlock has to make it up to her? I would love it if you wrote this but I understand if you don’t.
A/N: Here it is! Thank you all so much for supporting my first Sherlock fic, I hope this one meets your expectations! I’m sorry if it is not very good… Thank you so much for the request sweet anon! Enjoy!
You open the door to the flat, expecting to see a typing Watson with an observing Holmes looking over his shoulder, but instead, you were greeted by a bloody living room and a pacing Sherlock, drenched head to toe in the red substance. You spot John in a somewhat clean corner, looking extremely fed up.
“Sherlock!” you say loudly, trying to grab the attention of your boyfriend. “What is going on here? It looks like a crime scene!”
“Experiment.” he simply replies as if it were obvious, tending back to the severed head that was sitting on the floor. The head that you hadn’t noticed before. The head that was sitting right beside a disheveled looking body. It looked freshly dead. How you knew, you weren’t exactly sure, you just picked up a few things after spending enough time around Sherlock.
Your eyes widened and you glanced at John, locking eyes with him. Silent words were exchanged and you both sighed at the same time. This was quite normal behaviour for Sherlock.
“Where did you-” John starts before Sherlock cuts him off.
“Molly let me take it. I call him John.”
It was John’s turn to look at you in shock as his eyes widened.
“Doe.” Sherlock then says, releasing John from his state of terror.
“Ah, alrighty then… you don’t even know who this person is.” John mutters the last part under his breath. “Well, couldn’t you have had the decency to leave it at the morgue?!”
“Relax John, at least he hasn’t blown up the flat again,” you say, maneuvering yourself so that you avoided the blood covering the floor while searching for a mop. You sigh again as you examine the flat drenched in blood. “Though Sherlock, maybe you should consider laying down a towel or a few sheets over the floor and furniture the next time you decide to do a messy experiment-”
You stop in your tracks when you spy something out of the corner of your eye. Your heart sinks when you realize that your favourite jumper underneath the head, soaking up the excess blood.
“Sherlock!” you shout, startling both Sherlock and John. “You used my jumper as a freaking towel?”
“I’m sorry?” Sherlock answers with a look of confusion and your heart breaks a little at the sound of his voice. He really didn’t know what he had wrecked.
“And it’s ripped!”
“I needed to cover more surface area, besides, it’s just a jumper (Y/N), you have plenty. Heck, you could wear one of John’s and people wouldn’t even question whether or not it was yours.”
John nods, before realizing that he had just been insulted and his face contorted into a frown.
“Hey! I am proud of my taste in jumpers!” he exclaims. “But even I am a little confused. What’s so special about this particular jumper?”
You sigh. It was true that you might’ve been overreacting but you held that jumper close to your heart because…
“It was the first gift Sherlock had ever given me,” you whisper, eyeing the stained jumper sadly. “Sure, at that time it was simply an act of kindness, not love. A Christmas gift. But I wanted to keep it as a memory, sort of like a memento that would mark the baby steps of our relationship.”
Sherlock blinks and cocks his head to the side as if he was trying to remember. You look at him sadly when his infamous face of realization remains absent.
“Hmm. I can’t seem to remember ever giving you that jumper. Hell, I don’t even remember buying it.” he says and your sadness turns into anger, your face turning a light shade of red.
“How could you not remember?” you yell, close to tears. “Maybe it is stupid that that jumper meant so much to me, but again, maybe you’re just too inhumane to understand.”
Sherlock looks taken aback but he doesn’t admit that he’s sorry.
“Look, (Y/N), I’ve told you this before. Only useful things go into my mind. You fill your head up with rubbish like memories and feelings, while I delete them because they are not important. That’s the difference between me and everyone else.”
You look at the man in front of you and sigh. You thought that you would then be the one who could fix him. That you were the one that would save him from the monster within. It was a long shot back then, but now, you weren’t sure if there was even anything left to save.
“I’m not sure if you remember, but this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this,” you say, turning your back to him, your hair flying like a whip. You head towards your room, regardless of blood in your way. At this point, you simply didn’t care.
“If it involved anything to do with feelings then I probably don’t.” he answers and your tears finally start to fall.
“I expect the flat to be free of blood or dead corpses the next time I walk out of this door,” you say before entering your room. “And Sherlock? You’ve just proved my point; you said ‘delete’, as if you are some soulless machine. Is that all you are? Am I dating a robot? Many people have warned me and I refused to believe them but now? Now, I’m starting to think that’s true.”
You slam the door as Mrs. Hudson walks in.
“Hoohoo - oh my. What’s going on here?”
“You just refuse to lose, don’t you?” John groans as he mops the floor. He glares at Sherlock who was sprawled on his chair, his long limbs dangling almost lifelessly, not bothering to help clean up. “Sherlock!”
“She’s just overreacting!” he finally exclaimed. “She can’t expect me to keep track of every single-”
“And she doesn’t expect you to keep track of everything,” Mrs. Hudson interrupts from behind. Sherlock glares at her for interrupting him but he doesn’t say anything. “She’s not angry at you for destroying her sweater, well she is but she’s more hurt from the fact that you don’t care. She knows that you lack some compassion and therefore she is forgiving and willing to let some things go, but you also have to give in to complete your side of the deal, it’s about balance.”
“I’m sorry, but what do you know about relationships? Your last one ended badly and I ensured his execution!”
Mrs. Hudson looked a little hurt by Sherlock’s outburst but she didn’t say a thing for she assumed that this was probably one of the only relationships he had ever had and was still getting used to everything.
“Well, at least Mrs. Hudson doesn’t go around burning gifts like deer stalkers and violins. A freaking violin, Sherlock! She gave you a violin and you loved it, then you just turn around and set it to flames?” John exclaims, letting his mop drop to the floor.
“I forgot she gave them to me, besides, they were experiments.”
“And that one time you put a stray eyeball in her cup of tea. She freaked and dropped her favourite cup!” Mrs. Hudson adds in.
Sherlock scoffs, “That was on her, she broke it.”
John shakes his head and points his finger at Sherlock, making sure he looked him in the eye. “As Mrs. Hudson said, she’s more hurt because you do not bother to remember or empathize or even admit you’re sorry. From now on, the least you could try to do is remember. Moments, and feelings. In the end that’s all we have left in life Sherlock. And she knows that. I know you love her, so go and prove it to her. Show her that you do remember, care and cherish moments-”
“But I don’t-”
“Yes, you do. Somewhere in that thick head of yours are forgotten moments that you’ve decided to lock up. I know you haven’t deleted them, Sherlock. Now let her know too.”
And that’s when Sherlock realized that John was right.
“Possibly for the first time in his life,” Sherlock mutters under his breath.
“Go away.” you mutter from the floor as Sherlock closes the door gently behind him, trapping you inside your room. Great, he was the last person you wanted to spend time with right now.
He walks over and kneels down in front of you. Your try to avoid eye contact but he lifts your head with his hands, forcing you to look at him.
“I don’t want an object to define our relationship. Because objects break, and that is not something I want to see happen to us. I don’t need objects and past moments reminding us of our love because I don’t need to remember that our love is real. Because I know.” he takes a deep breath before continue, his words flowing quickly.
“I may have trouble remembering moments I find silly or unimportant, however it is clear that you don’t think of them the same way I do. And I am willing to do my best to make you happy, even it means remembering every gift given, every moment spent together and giving up an experiment that could’ve been a scientific breakthrough.”
A single tear falls down his cheek and he pressed his forehead to yours.
“I’m a breaker, (Y/N). I wreck almost everything I touch. Every object, every life, but the one thing I will do my damn hardest not to break is your heart.”
I was asked to play violin for my drama teacher’s wedding and this was one of the songs that I played! I get nervous when playing live, so I decided to record this live as practice. I hope you enjoy this video! Not perfect but that’s what practice is for :) So here you go! A violin cover of “Burn” from Hamilton the Musical!
Person A is violinist and the heroine in a harem anime. Person B is a cellist and doesn’t stand out very much. Person A is not interested in the people in their harem because they’re super gay they think that kind of stuff is stupid. One day Person A hears Person B playing their cello and immediately falls in love. Love isn’t so stupid now huh? Person A tries to get close to Person B, but Person B is kinda prickly and doesn’t want to be in any relationship with Person A. This causes Person A to do stereotypical things people do to get their crushes to like them back. (Like serenading Person B with ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love With You’). Doing all these things causes Person B to see that Person A isn’t some perfect god that nobody can touch; they’re actually a big dork and Person B loves that. They slowly become closer and become good friends.
This comes to the immense displeasure of Person A’s harem and they try to get in the way of their relationship. After many moments ruined between the two, Person A tells them off with a super cheesy love confession towards Person B. They end up dating and when Person B finally purposes to Person A they play ‘Can’t help Falling In Love With You’ on their cello for them.
This is the accompaniment, if you want to play violin to the melody, play the vocal line in the Burn + Vocals sheets :)
If you play it make sure to link other people back here so they can find the sheets and learn to play it too AND if you record it please message me so I can listen and share with everyone!
I’m going to continue writing sheet music until @linmanuel releases a score book (at which point I’ll probably take these down?)! Next up is ‘What’d I Miss’! (After I polish up ‘Wait For It’ most which has already been transcribed by someone else!)
Hell yeah all-viola orchestra don't need any violins and fuck this triangle and those god damn oboes and their ducks and the conductor is a viola too and everybody is viola and we're made of violas standing on a mound of burning violins hahahah a
i put my back into the bruise, carve the dark stain out of the fruit and discard the fruit. i leave behind nothing of the wood but the rot. i take you and make you unbeautiful. i wanted to love you until the forests screamed but i am only ever cutting down trees. white lace doesn’t look lovely if you know how much hydrogen peroxide was used to get the sick stain of blood out of it. we could kiss until it killed me but you have touched greater gods than the salt of my skin. we could burn the horizon until all you hear is violence. until the violins crack.
Hey guys! My name’s Elliott, and I’m from the American Midwest. In September, I’m both turning 18 and starting my freshman year in college. I’m attending an art institute, actually, so expect many doodles in our letters!
I have more interests than i can keep up with. Besides art, I enjoy writing and playing music (mainly violin and mandolin). I used to burn through books, so I’m trying to get back into it; I adore a good movie as well. I also love learning! Science, geography, history, modern politics, geometry, and random useless information. I am the biggest nerd for Greco-Roman antiquity and WWII.
This makes me sound like a cool, collected individual, but in reality I’m scatter-brained, loud-mouthed, and I have a horrible attention span. I like to have fun! I want to find someone who I can write to beyond the “my name is _, my favorite food is _, i have _ pets, et cetera” but share dumb stories with and complain about homework and the in-laws.
Preferences: I’m willing to talk online, but I also want to exchange physical letters the old-fashioned way. I’d like someone around my age, specifically anyone also in college.
Sara Norton (1884). Edward Burne-Jones (English, 1833-1898). Oil on canvas. Historic New England.
Half-length portrait of Norton as a young woman in profile facing right, holding a violin. Norton was at the center of New England’s privileged class, the kind of Bostonian equally at home in drawing rooms on either side of the Atlantic. Burne-Jones painted this portrait for Sara’s father, Charles Eliot Norton, a Harvard humanities professor, editor of North American Review, founder of the Nation, and frequent contributor to the Atlantic Monthly.
Sometimes I listen to a song and it inspires me to write about our dear Ben.
This is for @padfootagain – she submitted this request literally a month ago
and has been patiently waiting for me to update so here it is finally! Also I
love the Civil Wars and think that Ryan’s voice would intertwine beautifully
with the right vocalist, like this duo does well. This song is inspired by the
Jason Cohen cover this lovely duo did, which you can listen to here.
Ryan pulled his hat over his eyes, taking one last drag of his cigarette before
throwing it on the ground and stamping it out. He bent down to grab his guitar
case, ignoring the light drizzle as he took a breath exhaling and looking into
the dim club.
know how or why but you were inside, laughing and joking with friends, a glass
of whiskey on top of the piano you were playing fervently, your deep soulful
voice carrying throughout the small club.
think you sang anymore.
time he kept track of you, on one of the few occasions where he checked the
internet he had inevitably reconnected on your Facebook page. It had been a
couple of months back and out of habit and memory he had remembered it was your
birthday. He knew it was bad, tried to will it from his thought as his fingers
typed out your name but he couldn’t stop himself.
you. Always missed you but when he thought of your birthday, of the memories
shaped around your special day and his mind began the deep dive of thinking of