#i love the pop of the flute keys when i play

[middenway]

The colour of Turning Red – Part 1

Turning Red is among my favourite Pixar films. This weekend I finally got to see it on the big screen and I just want to talk about something I really love about it—the way it uses colour to communicate its story. The key colours to watch are red, pink, and teal. Red is the colour of the panda, the unrestrained self. Pink is a muted version of this, a lightly curated version of the self, and teal is the restrained version of the self. This is how Meilin is introduced, all in pink; she's comfortable with who she is, but there's still a level of curation.

Did I say all in pink? Not quite. There is conspicuously a teal hairclip restraining her hair. And that's very important, because the hair is very important in this film too... but we'll get to that later.

Very early on, the film starts to establish teal as a kind of "responsible" colour, with Mei bragging about being practically an adult as she boards the bus, which is predominantly teal, and then she sits down to do her homework.

Note how in that second image how the bus's seats are pink, but all of them are up or hidden in shadow except for Mei's. She a hotspot in the centre. Also note that her homework book is teal.

At the opening title, Mei's by herself and unrestrained, so obviously the lighting is pink.

When Mei arrives at school, the overall palette is teal, but with pops of colour. This is a place where she has to curate her identity a bit, but there's still room to be a freer version of herself.

And here are her colourful friends, Miriam (green), budding goth Priya (yellow), and Abby (purple).

You'll note that Miriam is green, very close to teal, but distinct from it. There's a good reason for that and it speaks to her relationship with Mei. She's Mei's best friend, but she curates herself for her. After all, she thinks Mei's a little brainwashed, but she wouldn't say that to her face.

And then there's Tyler, coded purple, which is not traditionally a masculine colour, a hint about the self that he's hiding from everyone, and why he's jealous of someone like Mei who can be a fuller version of herself. Note that the basketball court, the space most associated with him at the school, is also heavily defined by teal.

OK, on to the flute scene!

This is the scene where I fell totally in love with Turning Red. The energy here is fantastic. Note how saturated Mei's pinks are here. They are so close to red.

Here's Mei leaving school...

...notice how pink begins to dominate the palette more. She's freer here, more herself when she's alone with her friends. Now's a good time to point out the gentle pastel lighting in Turning Red. It's a comforting look, and the contrast gets ramped up in moments of heightened emotion.

When we get to the Daisy Mart, we see Devon. This character is a budding story element, so the interior is teal, because it's a place where Mei would curate herself more, but we get pops of pink on Devon, a hint at how this character is going to evolve in Mei's eyes. (But mostly this location is coloured teal because of the role it plays later.)

OK, this is off topic, but I love this face.

4*Town fantasies are obviously very pink and very saturated for obvious reasons. Fun fact: Domee Shi calls this scene "Man Mountain" (from the director's commentary).

Another aside, but I love the way Miriam, Priya , and Abby often move as a unit. Each has their own distinct visually identity and quality of movement, but in most scenes they function almost like a single character, expressing slight variations on a central emotion.

How could anyone not love the lighting choices when Mei is presented with the 4*Town's '99 Australian Tour CD?

Now we get to the panda temple, and I love this because it's a combination of red and teal. It's important to understand that teal is not a bad colour in Turning Red. It is a perfectly valid way to express yourself, but it's not right for everyone.

The temple also is a space where Mei is curating herself for her mother and visitors to the temple, but in she can also let other aspects of herself come out, and we see that in the way she has fun with her mum while sweeping. It's a really cute way to express this duality.

Note the mirrored colours in Mei and Ming. Mei is all pink with a hairpin that's teal, while her mother is all teal with a red pendant... That red pendant is a really big part of Ming, but we'll go into that later. (Also, I love the round shapes of Mei against the sharper lines of Ming.)

Now we go to Ming's home, which is a mix of teals and pinks, but it's mostly white. This means that it takes on the colour of the lighting, so that in different scenes this space serves different functions. Jin, Mei's father, is likewise predominantly white, reflecting his mild character and role as a neutral party.

Then we have Mei in her bedroom doing her homework. Note that this is her room and yet it is almost completely teal. There as just a few spots of pink, like the heart, the discman (which is playing 4*Town music). This is an environment where she's the ideal good kid doing her homework.

This is also a good time to note the relationship between the music and the colour, because all the self-expression here comes out in how her movement is defined in relation to the music. But she's wearing headphones. This aspect of herself is internalised.

The animation in this shot was the best animation I saw in 2022. The little jaw movement from Mei before she says "fine" is so great. You can see the competing versions of self as confronts a side to her that's unfamiliar and intense.

Notice the shift in the lighting here. Warm lighting coming up from the page. It makes no sense literally; it's completely subjective lighting.

And I'm bumping up against the image limit, so to be continued in Part 2.

#Pixar #Turning Red

[pontevoix]

hc + music for nobara from this | from @mindsafe

headcanon | nobara + music

history:  her  family  shared  a  computer.  it  was  the  early  2000s.  it  was  a  bulky  thing,  &  when  nobara  was  really  little  ?  she  couldn’t  care  less.  she  started  to  care  more  when  she  started  school,  &  she  learned  that  she  make  an  email  account  when  her  parents  weren’t  looking.  she  started  to  care  more  when  she  listened  to  music  on  the  radio,  saw  it  on  variety  shows  on  tv.  she  had  a  small  portable  radio  that  looked  like  a  toy,  that  came  with  uncomfortable  earbuds.  she  stashed  it  into  her  backpack’s  front  pocket,  &  she  loved  it.  even  she  mostly  just  listened  to  static  from  the  radio  stations  rather  than  crystal  clear  music.

nobara  felt  rebellious  &  free  when  she  joined  the  era  of  youth  downloading  songs  from  youtube  to  the  family  computer.  her  parents  reprimanded  her  for  it,  &  still  the  library  on  their  window’s  music  player  kept  expanding.

even  so,  she  wasn’t  really  ever  .  .  .  music-driven.  she  played  the  music  at  home  through  the  computer,  hummed  along  to  songs  when  it  came  on  the  radio.  nobara  owned  a  purple  cd  player,  &  she  burned  cds  sometimes  that  she  listened  to  in  her  room.  she  knew  the  words,  &  she  sang  them  a  little  flatly  beneath  her  breath.  but  .  .  .  she  never  invested  in  an  ipod  &  didn’t  care  to.  they  were  expensive,  &  there  were  better  things  that  she  wanted  to  spend  her  money  on.

of  course,  this  does  not  hold  true  for  her  smartphone.  when  nobara  gets  her  cellphone,  it’s  a  prized  possession.  she  downloads  music  from  youtube  again  &  she  downloads  the  pandora  app  to  her  phone.  she  still  uses  pandora.

she  has  a  brief  phase  where  she  tries  to  come  use  music  as  customized  ringtones  &  alarms,  but  she  quickly  gives  up.

as  far  as  the  type  of  music  she  likes:  i  will  say  that  nobara  has  the  wii  music  stuck  in  her  head  a  little  too  frequently.  if  she’s  tired,  then  she  hears  it  playing  in  her  head.

but  !  beyond  that,  she  really  does  like  j-pop.  she  doesn’t  have  much  patience  for  western  music.

recent  listens  include:  kokoro  aoshima,  hinatazaka46,  kaori  ishihara,  aimer,

she  likes  bubblegum  things,  but  hates  it  when  she’s  working  out.  when  she’s  working  out  she’ll  call  it  trash,  but  with  love.

other  listens  include:  misamo,  reol,  the  rampage  from  exile  tribe,  wagakkiband

but  she  also  remembers  music  her  parents  listen  to;  she  has  a  pandora  station  for  pink  lady  &  taeko  onuki.

nobara  also  has  a  deep  knowledge  of  meme  music.

musical  talent:  nobara  isn’t  the  worst,  &  she’s  not  the  best.  her  singing  voice  is  a  little  off-key,  but  she  has  a  good  time.  she  sings  with  confidence.

she  started  learning  some  instruments  a  couple  times  (  her  mother  played  flute  for  a  while  ).  nobara  didn’t  take  to  it.

she  has  a  great  sense  of  rhythm  though.  if  she  played  an  instrument,  she  would  thrive  on  drums.

she  likes  to  dance.  let  her  dance!

#5. headcanon #mindsafe #i love her so much omg let her dance #100. c. nobara

[cyarskaren52]

The Best and Worst of the Grammys

Billie Eilish won big, Aerosmith and Run-D.M.C. made a glorious mess, and the show faced the challenge of having to respond quickly to Kobe Bryant’s death.

https://web.archive.org/web/20200127174112im_/https://static01.nyt.com/images/2020/01/27/arts/27grammys-billie-sub/merlin_167895759_ed12d0c7-178f-40ca-9613-51b8bd49a52c-superJumbo.jpg?quality=90&auto=webp

The 62nd annual Grammy Awards on Sunday were going to take place in the shadow of a scandal: the removal of the Recording Academy chief Deborah Dugan 10 days before the event and the stinging allegations of misconduct at the nonprofit that oversees the awards that she outlined in a complaint to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Instead, they took place in the aftermath of tragedy: the death of Kobe Bryant in a helicopter crash at 41. The host Alicia Keys was tasked with responding to the basketball star’s death on-air; she chose to make a statement about “respect” after what she called “a hell of a week,” too.

Here are the show’s highlights and lowlights as we saw them.

Best Coronation: Billie Eilish

​It’s been a long time since a phenomenon as talented, authentic, complex and delightfully of-the-moment as Billie Eilish took over the Grammys​. She turned five of her six nominations into wins, victorious in all four major categories (album, song and record of the year, plus best new artist), becoming the first artist to sweep since Christopher Cross in 1981. At 18, she’s the youngest person to win album of the year. It is all richly deserved: “When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?” redefines teen-pop stardom, as Jon Pareles wrote in his review of the album. Eilish (working with her producer brother, Finneas O’Connell) digs her shapely talons into the conflicts that throb in our minds like her meticulously constructed tracks: anxiety and confidence, love and terror, fairy tales and reality. She is a genuine melting pot of pop history — goths, rappers, confessional singer-songwriters, all tucked into baggy clothes that defy all kinds of stereotypes. “Why,” she cried into the microphone as she accepted her first televised award, for song of the year. “Aye yi yi,” she started her second, for best new artist. “Please don’t be me,” she mouthed as album of the year was being announced. Finneas spoke up during their speech for the LP: “We wrote an album about depression and suicidal thoughts and climate change and being the ‘Bad Guy,’ whatever that means,” he said, “and we stand up here confused and grateful.” It was simply proof that sometimes the music industry does get it right. CARYN GANZ

Best Flown-in Flute: Lizzo

Ever the savvy trouper, Lizzo maximized her opening slot. “Tonight is for Kobe!” she proclaimed at the start, then launched into her screaming, rasping, sobbing, pealing “Cuz I Love You,” in a monumental black dress. An orchestral interlude threatened to turn “Truth Hurts” into Grammy kitsch, but it was just long enough for a costume change — then Lizzo was back with rhymes, skintight sequins, dancers and kiss-off sass. A flute descended on a plastic tray; she played just enough showy trills and runs, then growled harder to finish the song. If a prime-time network audience hadn’t already known who Lizzo is, they knew now. JON PARELES

Worst Use of an Award Presentation: Comedy Album

It’s conventional wisdom at this point that the Grammys are more of a concert special than an awards show, but presenting the trophy for best comedy album on a night where only nine awards were given over nearly four hours was absurd. On Sunday, that insult to musicians was compounded when Dave Chappelle won for the third straight year in the category — it’s not like they were giving a new face some shine — and then compounded once again by the fact that Chappelle, who might’ve at least given a speech to remember, did not even show up. (Poor Jim Gaffigan, and also every smaller artist in a genre category whose life would’ve been made by accepting a Grammy onstage.) Tanya Tucker accepted on Chappelle’s behalf, giving a halfhearted “I’m sure he thanks y’all.” Right. Sure. JOE COSCARELLI

Best Call to Arms: Sean (Diddy) Combs

There were only the faintest hints of skepticism at the Grammys on Sunday, only the mildest acknowledgment of the controversies that have been engulfing the Recording Academy for the past two weeks, and really, the past two years. Saturday night, however, Sean Combs received the Salute to Industry Icons Award at the Clive Davis and Recording Academy’s Pre-Grammy Gala, and Diddy did not mince words. “Truth be told, hip-hop has never been respected by the Grammys. Black music has never been respected by the Grammys to the point that it should be,” he said. “For years we’ve allowed institutions that have never had our best interests at heart to judge us. And that stops right now.” He issued a challenge to the Recording Academy to make radical changes in the next year, and urged his fellow artists and executives to be part of the evolution. And if things don’t change, Diddy’s predictions were dire: “We have the power. We decide what’s hot. If we don’t go, nobody goes. We don’t support, nobody supports.” JON CARAMANICA

Best Example of Someone Coming to Play: Tyler, the Creator

Taking the Grammys seriously is usually a fool’s task, yet there was something extremely endearing about the way Tyler, the Creator rose to the occasion, and beyond it. His red carpet look was crisp bellhop. His performance, of “Earfquake” and “New Magic Wand,” was fully engaged and rowdy. His best rap album acceptance speech was pointedly warm. And his backstage pressroom interview was frank. He received a lot from the Grammys last night, but he gave much more. CARAMANICA

Best Rock ’n’ Roll ​Mess​: Aerosmith and Run-D.M.C.

It was not technically good. But it didn’t have to be good: It had to be insane, and on that point, it delivered. Steven Tyler side-skedaddled over to Joe Perry and dragged his scarf-draped mic stand around the Staples Center. Run-D.M.C. broke through a wall of bricks that looked like a prop from a middle school play. Everyone seemed to be yelling, record-scratching and guitar-soloing in the wrong key, at the wrong tempo, in the wrong decade. But the crowd was grinning and dancing, swept up in some magical blend of nostalgia and Tyler’s frontman charisma. (Two younger women in the front row were literally swept up by the latter. Cringe.) This was the party the Grammys have been trying, and failing, to capture for several years: the power of rock ’n’ roll lunacy, compressed into seven minutes of riffing, screaming and nonsense. GANZ

Worst Self-Cover Version: Aerosmith and Run-D.M.C.

Television cameras and headphone listening were merciless to Aerosmith, who paired up with Run-D.M.C. to recreate their shared 1986 remake of “Walk This Way,” which recharged Aerosmith’s career and introduced hip-hop to many rock fans. That was a long time ago. After Aerosmith plodded through “Livin’ on the Edge” — though Tyler playfully dragooned Lizzo for an impromptu audience singalong — Joe Perry fumbled his indelible opening riff for “Walk This Way.” Run-D.M.C. joined in for colliding vocals, overenthusiastic turntable scratching, incoherent solos from Perry and audience-participation high jinks from Tyler. It looked like fun, anyway. PARELES

Best Internet Fever Dream: Lil Nas X and Co.’s ‘Old Town Road’ Medley

Like most of what Lil Nas X has accomplished in the last year, his epic performance of “Old Town Road” at the Grammys was not primarily about the music. Instead, he attempted the magic act of making memeability translate to network television, and he more or less pulled it off, relying on an intricate rotating set where each door led to another layer of winks and smirks: BTS, underutilized but still electric, did its “(Seoul Town Road Remix)”; Mason Ramsey and Billy Ray Cyrus kept their SEO alive; and Diplo pretended to play a banjo, adding about as much as he did to the success of “Old Town Road” in the first place. For the close-watchers and “Road” completists, there was the empty chamber, featuring a green slimy skull, where Young Thug should have been, and rather than detracting from the unity, his absence just gave us all a chance to breathe amid the MDMA explosion. COSCARELLI

Worst Silencing: The Prince Tribute

FKA twigs learned pole dancing to make her video for “Cellophane,” adding it to an already impressive movement vocabulary. She is also, however, a songwriter and singer who explores complex intersections of carnality, power and devotion — as Prince did. So she was an intriguing choice to join a tribute to Prince, billed alongside Usher and Sheila E. But Prince’s music remained a man’s world on Grammy night, with a three-song medley that was a teaser for a full-length Prince tribute planned by the Recording Academy. The band added Vegas embellishments to the basics of Prince’s arrangements, Usher did the lead singing and some Prince moves, Sheila E. added percussion and FKA twigs only danced: lithe and precise, but merely ornamental. “Of course I wanted to sing,” she wrote on Twitter, but she took what she could get. PARELES

Best Combination of People Who Actually Know One Another: The Nipsey Hussle Tribute

In a show that included no shortage of tear-jerking and maybe too many musical/visual/emotional whiplash moments, the tribute to the Los Angeles rapper Nipsey Hussle, who was killed last year, at least had coherence on its side. Meek Mill started things off with a crisp verse that led seamlessly into an appearance by Roddy Ricch, a surging talent from Nipsey’s own neighborhood, before John Legend did his instant-gravitas thing. DJ Khaled shouted some aphorisms, YG showed off his impeccable style and some local inter-gang unity and then the gospel-crossover king Kirk Franklin brought the wave of emotion home with a choir in white and gold. Above the stage, a portrait of Nipsey was set next to one of Kobe Bryant, another hometown hero. All of these things make sense together, which is more than can be said for a lot of Grammys moments. COSCARELLI

Worst Sense of Pacing: Everyone Who Performed a Slow Song

I’ve complained before about the preponderance of ballads at the Grammys and this year was no exception. We get it: you’re a real musician whose songs are sturdy enough to be played on a grand piano. It’s not that, in isolation, any of these belted slow songs were especially bad, but between Camila Cabello, Billie Eilish, Demi Lovato, H.E.R., Tanya Tucker and Alicia Keys, the repeated down moments were just too down for a show that can already feel interminable. And at least half of those women are capable of lighting the place on fire à la Tyler, the Creator, so to see them stick with safety just feels like a missed opportunity, while also preventing any one minimalist performance from being truly showstopping. On the other hand, if ballads are the key to keeping CBS viewers tuned in, skipping over album of the year nominee Lana Del Rey, whose “Norman ___ Rockwell!” was full of modern-day, lightly subversive torch songs, was extra foolish. COSCARELLI

Best Simplicity: Tanya Tucker

The Grammys love their ballads overmuch — see above — but Tanya Tucker’s “Bring My Flowers Now” needed only her leathery twang and co-writer Brandi Carlile’s piano chords and vocal harmony to tell its story. After 20 years between albums, Carlile and collaborators convinced Tucker, now 61, to record again. The song greets looming mortality with pragmatism. “Don’t you spend time, tears or money/On my old breathless body,” she sang, her voice lived-in and completely convincing. PARELES

Worst (and Worst-Timed) Statement of Emotional Fidelity: Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani

The rictus ran heavy throughout “Nobody But You” by the real-life couple Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani. A country singer and a flexible pop singer, they don’t have any natural musical chemistry, and this performance was dry and awkward. That it was the first music played following the musical tribute to Kobe Bryant only made it grimmer. CARAMANICA

Best Guitar Heroics: Gary Clark Jr. and H.E.R.

“This Land,” by the Texas blues-rocker Gary Clark Jr., confronts hostile neighbors with property rights. Backed by the Roots, Clark blasted its blues-reggae riff, snarled the lyrics and played the kind of overdriven solo that drew screams from the audience. It’s what he’s known for; he was back for the show’s “Fame” finale. But it was H.E.R. — a recent Grammy darling for her old-school musicianship — who made the surprise attack. Her song “Sometimes” started, like so many others on the show, as an unadorned piano ballad about overcoming obstacles; a mini-orchestra joined her. But as the song built, suddenly H.E.R. had a guitar in hand and she was making it wail and shred. It was just eight bars, but it made its point completely. PARELES

Worst Encapsulation of the Way It Used to Be (and Hopefully No Longer Will Be): ‘I Sing the Body Electric’

This is the final year of Ken Ehrlich’s 40-year run as the show’s executive producer, which means this might be the final time we see a precision-executed, umpteen-minute-long so-called Grammy Moment that scrambles together rappers, singers, dancers, Grammy stalwarts (Lang Lang! Gary Clark Jr.!) and music students … and that would be just fine. CARAMANICA

Sent from my iPhone

[dojae-huh]

doyoung voice is cold? I dk how to describe it. Kinda like haunting, chill. A lot of nct vocalist sounds warm. I think i’d categorize johnny as cold as well but rarely got to see him sing properly. And maybe jisung?

btw i just listened to renjun’s nandemonaiya and he suits the song so well. He almost sounds like sekai no owari vocalist. He sounds so different from when he sings korean or chinese. Or was it because of the genre? I guess he suits japanese pop rock.

I explored and found quite a lot of nct dream songs i like lately. Graduation, broken melodies, istj, sorry heart.

still can’t move on from love theory haha. I’m the type who play one song repeatedly until i got sick of it. I got sick of it once but now that it resurface in my playlist i’m gonna binge listen to it again.

Jaehyun new rnb prince? Hehe but sad cuz i don’t listen much to rnb. Taeil always sounds so good in acoustic.

doyoung doesn’t have any key in golden age mv? Is he trapped forever? Btw his short short covers he sent the fans is always gonna be my favourite type of doyoung genre. That way his voice shines.

and jungwoo new ba?? I can’t digest doyoung being d&g ba yet and now we have another one. Kijol

Just me catching up huhu

It is cold. I think it was compared to wind and to the flute. I think it also has a piercing quality, which works best in songs when there is a need to "slice the air".

Yuta? Kun? Ten? Hm. Never thought about it.

なんでもないや Hm, he mostly sing-talks, maybe that's why. The original sounds more soft. In addition, a person's tone of voice changes with different languages (Jae is a good example).

Renjun's covers are popular, he has more views than Doyoung.

Taeyong is the most listened to neo on Spotify, his solo and not-NCT works gather attention. "Love theory" was very him, it's nice and fresh. I've noticed (imagined?) a change in how he performs "Shalala". On the concerts he performs it with more attitude than in the MV (which is on the cuter side). The song became more "TY", me thinks.

Jaehyun is so cheezy... can't stand him, lol, lol. He said he is still exploring, however, even if he finds something else to his liking, it's commercially sound to push him as a Prince charming with rnb.

The piano has keys ;) 88 of them.

We didn't see the keys of all neos, that would be too repetitive (imagine showing 20 keys in sequence). Which reminds me, Mark had a ring with many keys, I guess what his group of neos was doing is breking into another dreams.

The MV started with a blue sky behind Do's window, but when he turned towards it and later approached, it turned to grey (and then the golden light shone). Doyoung sees the matrix of the dream (Limitless, the grid). Both in Favorite and in Ay-Yo he was (together with Jungwoo) the first to cross dimensions. He is not stuck, none of neos are anymore (as they all were able to meet each other).

With this speed, all neos will be BA soon, heh.

#ask me away #Doyoung is my bias #NCTmentary #Taeyong is the boss #dreamies #Jaehyu n is a dance machine #Jungwoo is a master of memes

[luuurien]

Tony Bontana - Tony Thom 2022

(Sound Collage, Experimental Hip Hop, Neo-Psychedelia)

Tony Bontana's collaborative project with Thom Dehli is a dreamy, fluid collection of songs that further expand what his music can sound like, never sitting comfortably on any one idea and instead fitting dozens of them into a single track. Dehli's thick and neon production creates a perfect environment for Bontana to explore places he's never gone before while sounding greater than ever.

☆☆☆☆

I feel incredibly drowsy whenever I'm done listening to Tony Thom 2022. It's an album that demands your attention and subsequently holds you in stasis, pulling you into Tony Bontana's usual psychedelic sound but stretching it all out so far that it all begins to wrap around you and become a feeling more than just songs. It's one of the most immersive albums to come out this year, Bontana working with producer Thom Dehli to help bring his latest vision to life through Dehli's thick and neon production that brings darkness and light equally to the music. It's an unusual listening experience, one that demands you drop any preconceived notions about Bontana's sound or what he's capable of, but by doing that he opens up hundreds of new avenues to explore here, from sound collage and spoken word to mind-melting hip-hop and pop, and the results speak for themselves. Tony Thom 2022 takes its time to connect with you, but when the mood is right and you're in sync with the atmosphere the two of them are aiming for, it's like absolutely nothing else you'll hear from anyone - even those in Bontana's own circle - this entire year. It's an incredibly genuine and lived-in album that doesn't try to box itself in the way some other albums might to achieve a particular sound: when Bontana includes a little bit of everything into the mix, there's nothing stopping him in the slightest. Executively produced by Thom Dehli but mixed and mastered by Bontana himself, the somewhat hands-off approach to production Bontana's taken here allows him to be more of a conduit for each of the song's energy, rather than trying to create the structures for it to move through as well. Most of these songs are a good bit longer than what Bontana usually goes for, and Dehli's all-encompassing sampling and compositional style allows for him to sneak in everything Bontana wants into here. There's the usual soul and jazz samples Bontana's always got in his songs, the guitar and flute chop in the first half of Compare / All You Need Is Love contorted and has its pitched played with as Dehli incorporates new elements into the mix and the vocal sample that sounds like it could have been found in the background of an 80s mall video on Everything Is Indeed Perfect making for just two of the dozens of memorable clips the two of them put into these songs. There are also times where the music itself is able to express feelings of sadness, guilt and sorrow the duo could never express in words: early highlight Coming to Terms With Loss slowly breaks apart from its more traditional hip-hop production and low-key rapping from Bontana into a massive, noisy mass of droning strings and angry, thrashing drums that bring to life the confusion and madness of losing someone better than any other song has in years, and the murky Ashtray Full of Guilt utilizes a bouncy R&B sample with a consistent backbeat to make a safe and enclosed environment for Bontana to lay out his troubles without nervousness or fear. Bontana isn't so much a vocalist on these songs as he is a presence, popping in every so often to help flesh out an idea but leaving tons of room for Dehli's production to speak for them both. It makes Tony Thom 2022 a difficult album to describe in concrete terms, but it feels impactful and innovative all the same. It's the kind of artistic deconstruction that feels honest and inquisitive, not breaking things apart for the sake of it but instead to achieve a new sound with the goal of expressing things that wouldn't be possible within old boundaries. There's something about how the six-and-a-half minute long When the Plug Tells You It's Cali... that simply feels futuristic and boundary-breaking, Dehli picking out a teary and waterlogged electric guitar line and moving the song from an acoustic dreamland to a chilly world of 80s synths and drum pads that sounds like an old instructional CD covered in acid, or how Listen! White! Britain! breaks apart what could be a more usual Bontana-style beat by slathering each of his bars in reverb and delay that force him to speak slower and softer, the lurching pulse of the beat making for one of the most arresting moments at the album's tail-end. Rise Above and Base Level cover Bontana's usual stomping ground but flip it on a new dimensional axis, vocal chops pitched way down and sliced into oblivion and kick drum throbs that never seem to find their footing in the pitch-black maze of Dehli's production. It's all quite labyrinthian, but Tony Thom 2022 never asks you to escape or find a solution to any of the ideas they have on offer here. You accept these songs as they are, let them take you wherever Dehli and Bontana desire, and treat yourself to every surprise element you find along the way. There's no surprise that the album's tagline on Bandcamp is "What happens when you break down your walls and accept your surroundings?" It's the one solid concept Dehli and Bontana keep with them throughout the wild adventure of Tony Thom 2022, letting go of genre and structure and instead choosing to let everything exist as one. It'd be messy were it not for their exquisite taste and quality control, never letting anything that might mess with the chemical mixtures of each song, but always making room for what they might come across on the trip. It is an odd, oftentimes difficult to parse album, but what makes it so great is that you can always find a way to connect with the music regardless. Tony Thom 2022 is an essential listen for anyone looking for the most forward-thinking and risk-taking music out there: the two of them took a huge swing with this album and could have easily missed, but by grounding themselves in a world where every possible outcome is a welcome one, not a single opportunity is relinquished here. Nobody else right is making anything close to what Tony Thom 2022 sounds like, and that's exactly why its many successes are such a sight to behold.

#tony bontana #thom dehli #tony thom 2022 #everything is perfect #abstract hip hop #art rap #drumless #experimental hip hop #hip hop #hypnagogic pop #neo-psychedelia #neo-soul #sound collage #trap #uk hip hop #2022 #8/10 #splayed #experimental

[humanities-education-with-zoya]

Musical Theme

The theme I chose for my playlist is “awareness.” My playlist includes the song “Sleep” by Earl Burtnett and Adam Geibel/Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians (1923); “Sleepy Time Gal” by Ben Bernie (1926); “All you have to do is Dream” by Everly Brothers (1958); “Dream On” by Aerosmith (1973); “9 to 5″ by Dolly Parton (1980); “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham! (1984). Awareness occurs in the three most basic states (Sleeping, dreaming, and waking up). The first pair of songs I chose for my playlist related to the concept of sleeping. I love sleeping because in doing so, you fall into various creative dreams. I think that the mind conjuring up a dream is an amazing thing. Each dream dreamt lasts for a few minutes at a time before moving onto a different one. To wake up and remember your dream as well as sharing it with others is always fun to me. It gives me a chance to decipher what my dreams could mean. The song “Sleep” by Earl Burtnett and Adam Geibel is a jazz song. The instrumental song was played at 140 beats per minute and at an allegro pace. The instruments used throughout the song include the violin, banjo, piano, cornet, trombone, tuba, three saxophones, and traps. The song's melody is based on a motif from "Visions of Sleep", a 1903 composition by Geibel. The song was released by Fred Waring's Pennsylvanians in 1923, becoming the band's first hit and their signature theme. “Sleepy Time Gal” was known for its jazzy sing-along tune. Ben Bernie released this song in 1926. Sleep is an important need that helps you pay attention, make decisions, and be creative in real-world situations. In other words, sleep helps you become more aware when performing tasks. The next pair of songs have to do with the concept of dreaming. “All you have to do is Dream” by the Everly Brothers is a rock and roll song that was released in 1958. The tempo of the song was performed at 96 beats per minute and was sung in the E major key. The piano, guitar, alto saxophone, cello, clarinet, flute, French horn, oboe, piano accompaniment recorder, trombone, trumpet, ukulele, viola, and violin were used throughout the song. “Dream On” is a pure rock song performed by Aerosmith. It was released in 1973 and was originally written on a Steinway upright piano. This moody song was performed at 161 BPM and was in a F minor key. Dreaming is a state of sleep, and dreams could be a representation of inner conflicts, desires, ambitions, fears, or could simply mean nothing. The last pair of songs in my playlist relate to the mind waking up after a peaceful slumber. “9 to 5” was sung in a B major key and performed at a tempo of 103 BPM. Dolly Parton used fingernails as a source of instrument in her recording of this particular song. Other instruments included guitars, bass, piano, drums, and lead vocals. “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham! Is a pop-soul song that sometimes plays on the radio today. This 1984 masterpiece was composed in a C major key and with a tempo of 82 BPM. Some of the instruments that were used in this song include the lead guitar, bass, percussion, vocals, and the keyboard. I believe that being able to wake up and become aware of what kind of dream or goal an individual wants to pursue is a beautiful blessing to be grateful for.

“Awareness” Playlist

“Sleep” by Earl Burtnett and Adam Geibel/Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taHARKIGcnM

“Sleepy Time Gal” by Ben Bernie

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZe_5PFu3iU

“All you have to do is Dream” by Everly Brothers

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbU3zdAgiX8

“Dream On” by Aerosmith

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89dGC8de0CA

“9 to 5″ by Dolly Parton

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4OzdyxbOuU

“Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5DGcQoBC9k

[the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see]

so anyway instead of doing anything productive, i decided to learn to play the wii theme on gustav

#its so fun #i love the pop of the flute keys when i play #and this is a very poppy song #i spent ten minutes figuring it out by ear so i dont know if its right or not but it sounds right

[wandsandwheezes]

Desperado | G. W

WARNINGS // Smut 18+, Degradation, Rough Sex, Daddy Kink, Oral (both receiving), masturbation, semi-public, AFTERCARE

This is 3.1k of pure smut because I high key watched a tiktok and went I’m finna make this fanfic so enjoy.

‘This isn’t a good idea’ you thought, walking across the room to join him, an extra bit of flare added to your step, the intent obvious in your strut. It was no secret that George was absolutely enamoured with you, the way your hair flowed behind you with every step, walking effortlessly in your heels and burgundy gown; a simple cinched bodice, with flowing train and a slit up to the thigh. He felt in a trance, taken away from the conversation he was having, completely focused on you for the few moments it took for you to reach him.

It wasn’t often you and George would get all scrubbed up, but attending a dinner at Malfoy Manor was one of those evenings. It was no surprise to anyone, that their Annual Ball Dinner was a very expensive, prestigious bash. You were truly lucky to be invited back year after year, glad you’d befriended Astoria and Draco as a young Slytherin. You were watching your Husband from across the room, he was talking to a couple of wealthy businessmen, a smart move from a business stance but from your eyes, you were frustrated he had been neglecting you for most of the night. He was dressed up in a gorgeous tailored navy suit, hair slicked back perfectly to compliment his winning smile.

The way you just delicately placed your hand on his chest the moment you were at his side had him swooning but after all the years you had been together, he had come to recognise the glint in your eye all too well - the glassy look of pure adoration, the way your lips turned up into a soft smirk. Being around you was like a drug to him, he would do anything at your beck and call and right now all you wanted was to be tangled beneath the sheets with a man you loved dearly. He knew that, recognised it even, in the soft hum that left your lips as his arm snuck around your waist, pulling you into him.  

He pressed his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, whispering a soft ‘later’ to you. Those were not the words you’d wanted to hear at all, you wanted him to oblige and take you home to the comfort of your shared bed. Quite frankly you were sure you’d let him lift up your skirt and have you in the back of the car, but you’d told yourself you wanted things to be special and you would get your way, no matter how bratty you had to be to get there. 

It started with you biting the inside of your lip whenever he would look down at you, then you added the bedroom eyes into the mix - you could’ve sworn that would’ve been enough to sway him, but nevertheless he brushed off your attempts, this evening was important for business and he knew that you knew that too. You decided to leave George to his businessman talks and find his older twin, who was to no surprise, sat at the bar.

“Hi, Freddie,” you sighed, lifting up your skirt so that you could sit on the bar stool next to him, he smiles, pushing his glass over to you, sensing the stress radiate off of you. You take the glass, downing the shot of whiskey, biting back the taste with a squeeze of your eyes shutting, you weren’t sure how people could drink the vile liquid until now, when you had let it pass your lips with ease.

“Your brother is an arse,” you roll your eyes before looking over your shoulder, seeing George laughing, strong hand gripping the dainty champagne glass, his veins peeking out from under the cuff of his shirt before disappearing up under the sleeve, leaving you to your own imagination once again. Your favourite thing was always George’s arms and yet he hid them from everyone’s view, including yours, making you even more frustrated. 

“What one?” he jokes, gesturing to the bartender to bring another drink, you look over to the man sitting next to you, with a look that could’ve hexed him if you’d really tried. “What’s he doing to you?” he prompts from you, causing you to let out a long staggered breath. 

“It’s more like what he’s not doing to me,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, resting your elbow on the bar so that you could prop your head up, “I take my time to look good for him and be the perfect wife, but he won't even acknowledge me for more than a minute, Fred, what am I doing wrong?” he chuckles, shaking his head, looking over to his brother who seems to be rounding off the conversation with who Fred can only hope would be the shop's potential new investor. 

“Oh, Y/N, you see who George has been with? That’s Mr. Greengrass, He and I are both sure if we can get him to invest, we can look at more new products, more advertising, better quality. We need it.” You sigh, Fred was right, you knew how important this evening was to the business, and although you have a deep need to be selfish and take 

your husband home, Fred had convinced you to see the evening through. 

At some point you had found yourself drawn back to your husband’s side, breathing in his cologne and admiring the passion in his voice, you could still feel the ache inside of you, as if he had the power to tease you without touch, which you had to admit he was unsurprisingly good at although, you wouldn’t let him know or it would definitely go to his head. 

George had noticed early on in the night your intentions, he was aware of what he was doing, how frustrating it was for you and he was more than ready to play the game you had started. He had been waiting patiently until the sit down meal, where he knew he could really start to play the hand he had been dealt. 

He counted his luck that your dress had a split, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on your thigh after finally taking your seats, it wasn't an unusual gesture for your relationship, he was always a sucker for physical touch, especially when it came to you. That however, wasn't enough for you, and you knew you were pushing your luck as you pressed your hand on top of his, gently moving it higher up your thigh, resulting in him giving your leg a firm squeeze. 

The first course had slowly rolled its way out and you sighed, being no closer to your end goal, you were unaware of George's plan tickling around in the back of his head, you really thought you would get something out of him by now and you were getting brattier as the evening continued, an idea popping into your head. 

You had pulled out a few things from your bag, a couple of them 'accidentally' falling to the floor. You slipped onto your knees, grabbing George's wrist, taking his long, slender, pointer and middle fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a way to mimic what he could be getting if he just obliged. You found your dropped items, pulling his fingers from your lips before his hand found your throat with ease under the table, squeezing it gently. You came back up from under the table, an innocent look plastered on your face. 

George however, was not having any of it. The eyes he gave you were fuelled with fire, staring down at you with a pure anger that only you could recognise in his eyes. You knew you’d won the game you’d been playing and he knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, in front of everyone. At least not without giving you what you want or without leaving dinner now to have his way with you. 

When sitting back in your chair, adjusting your hair from the friction of it being caught against the tablecloth, George’s hand found its way back to your thigh, pinky finger brushing teasingly close to where you wanted him, you huffed a little, grabbing your glass of champagne from the table to take a sip, when he began to trace small circles on your inner thigh with his pointer finger. The action caused your breath to hitch in your throat, almost spitting out the bubbly liquid back into the champagne flute. 

You placed the drink back down onto the table before resting your hand on his shoulder, smiling sweetly at him. He returned the façade gesture, smiling at you all while catching eyes with his brother who started up a conversation “Any good news with Mr Greengrass?” to which your husband nodded, quickly.  

“I think all we need is for you to sweep in and seal the deal, Freddie, he seems really interested.” as he was talking to his twin, George’s fingers had found their way to tease your clit, feeling you already soaked through your underwear - having to hold back his usual string of degradation in favour of continuing his conversation, “You know how investors can be, they’re always eager at the beginning, you have to catch them while they’re hot and really get involved, get what I mean?” It became evident to you very quickly that It was you he was talking about, causing you to bite your cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me leaving it down to you, I have something that really needs doing at home.” 

Fred, fortunately, had quickly caught George’s drift, taking a moment to observe you shifting in your seat, as well as the shit-eating grin plastered across his twin’s face. “Of course, dear brother, I know how, uh, urgent that is for her- sorry, you.” 

Getting you towards the car was a struggle, putting on your bratty attitude as soon as you were out of earshot from others, pulling your wrist quickly from his grip and crossing your arms, standing still in the middle of the once bustling reception hall, “Fucking hell, Princess, don’t make this any worse for yourself.” you rolled your eyes at his tone, you’d already got him to this point, why not push it further. He wasted no time in grabbing your jaw to force you to look at him, causing you to giggle. “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, my desperate little whore, move or I’ll leave you here.” he was practically growling at low his voice was, his eyes darkened past a point you’d ever seen before and you could tell he was all too close to throwing you over his shoulder.

George had managed to get you into the car without a blazing argument, however the way he was gripping the steering wheel was turning his knuckles a pure white, and he was still yet to say another word to you, forcing you to study every inch of his body. You could see the new veins in his neck and all you wanted to do was press little kisses to his jaw.

“Get your foot up on the dash and touch yourself, now.” he seethed, his hand moving to shift gears, before using it to squeeze your thigh, “Suck on those pretty fingers like you did for me earlier, keep yourself nice and wet for me.” It was a sight to behold, his beautiful wife in his passenger seat, spread open and touching herself for him. His eyes were flitting between the road and the way your head was thrown back as you circled your own clit. “Don’t go quiet on me, angel, let me hear those moans.”

He had parked up outside your home, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the centre console to get his own taste, his tongue licking a bold stripe before sucking your clit between his teeth, his low hums sending electricity through you. He didn’t seem to care much that he was uncomfortable, just that you were a mess of moans for him, your fingers tousling his once neatly styled hair. “You’re lucky I’m doing this, considering what a fucking brat you’ve been tonight.”

You were an absolute babbling mess for him, he had brought you right to the edge of release, before storming out of the car, managing to pull you out of the quickly before he tossed you over his shoulder, making sure to give a firm slap to your ass, desperate to get you into bed. The warmth of your home was a comforting contrast to the bitter cold of the winter night. 

He had thrown you onto your mattress, earning a laugh from you, it was exhilarating being beneath him, especially when he still had that darkness to his eyes. “Knees, now.” His curt tone gravelly against the echoes of your laughter, not that you weren’t happy to oblige, you slipped off your soft sheets onto your knees, hands making light work of his belt as you watch him shrug off his suit jacket, loosen his tie and slowly unbutton his shirt. 

When you had him in your hands, you were always pleasantly surprised at how well you were able to take him, not hesitating to take as much of him as you could, right until the tip was to the back of your throat, his loud moan was enough to make you wet, as if you weren't enough already, knowing better than to touch yourself at this moment. 

“That’s my fucking desperate girl, trying to take all of me, you can take more though, can’t you princess?” his hands were already in your hair, coaxing his length further down your throat as he began to set a small rhythm, fucking your mouth was one of his favourite things to do, seeing the tears pooling in your eyes before running down your cheeks. 

He pulled his cock from your mouth, guiding you up to a standing position by your chin before pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, his hands beginning to bunch up the material of your dress, before roughly gripping your hips and getting you onto the bed once again, his fingers hooked into your underwear, toying them down your legs, “Georgie, what about my dress.” you questioned, reaching up so that your hand was playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. He simply laughed, pulling you so that your hips were at the edge of the bed, “Desperate whores get fucked with their skirts hitched up, no matter how pretty they look.”

His cock was already filling you to the hilt before you could protest, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat, pleased with the way your eyes rolled back as you finally got what you’d been playing all night for. He was fucking you at a relentless pace, your moans breathy and airy as he toyed with the pressure of his hand pressing against your windpipe, pleasure was coursing through the both of your veins, taking all he could from you until he felt you tightening around him. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

He pulled out of you completely, flipping you over so you were forced onto your hands and knees, leaving you not only breathless, but desperate for a release, “George, please… I need you so badly.” his hand threaded through your hair, pulling you up roughly so that your back was against his chest, “Oh yeah? well I much prefer you gagged by a cock, I think you need a lesson in being a good submissive thing.” 

“I want to see those tear stained cheeks, Princess, Daddy isn’t stopping until he ruins your makeup.”  He was inside you again, this time pushing your face into the mattress as he had you screaming, his other had reached around to rub against your clit, he wanted to push you right to your edge again, before stopping. “you like this don’t you? needy whore.” you were a moaning mess, begging him with any sentence you could string together to let you cum. 

“Daddy, please keep going, I need to-” he cut you off, flipping you onto your back once more, “oh, you want me to keep going? such a slut for me, aren’t you?” you were nodding up at him, his hand finding yours to lace your fingers together. Even though your makeup was ruined and you were a mess at his will, he still thought you were a sight to behold, like the brightest star in the night’s sky or a perfect pearl in an oyster, and his weakness? Watching your face as you came undone beneath him. 

He was inside of you once again, this time he didn’t stop, the moans he let out was music to your ears as you felt your stomach in knots finally coming undone as you released over him, he continued to fuck you relentlessly as he found his own release, twitching inside of you as he came. He pressed a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, hands still holding each other’s as he peppered soft kisses down your neck. 

“Well done, angel, you’re such a good girl for me.” he swung your legs over the bed so that you could rest your head on the pillow. He made his way into the bathroom, turning on the shower to let it run warm, grabbing a makeup wipe to help clean you up. He returned to you, sitting you up so he could wipe away your makeup, smiling at you lovingly as he did so, your hand resting on top of his as he cupped your cheek. You were truly lucky to have a husband that cared for you the way he did and as foggy as your mind still was, the way his love and adoration shone through as clear as day, he slipped off your heels that were still on your feet, drooping them to the floor, “Let’s get you to the shower, my love.” 

He helped you up, skirt falling to its natural position, you walked on shaky legs to the bathroom, leaning on the counter as he unlaced the gorgeous dress he had pulled you into earlier pressing a delicate kisses to your shoulder as he let the material fall to the floor, he grabbed the hairbrush, running it through your hair gently to help remove any knots that he was definitely the culprit of. 

He pulled what was remaining of his clothes off of him before taking your waist, feeling comforted as his skin pressed against yours, as he helped you under the hot water. With your heels off, you forget how much he towered over you, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a kiss. “I love you so much, Georgie.” he smiles, pushing his water soaked hair back, “I love you too, Angel.” 

Maybe it was such a good idea after all.

TAGLIST 

@wand3ringr0s3​​ @gcdric​​ @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​

#george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley #fred and george #weasley twins #harry potter fic #harry potter

[purple-vixen]

Batfamily interactions involving vines - Headcanon

A/N: I've been wanting to write this for a while. This is my first headcanon by the way, I hope you enjoy! - Vix

• Whenever Dick screws up, Tim and Steph ALWAYS shout "What the fuck, Richard?"

• Jason also gets on board just for the sheer pleasure of pissing Dick off.

• When no one was around, Jason sat on the Wayne Manor piano and started hitting the keys trying to recreate that "Is there anything better than p****? Yes, a really good book." vine

• As soon as he played the last chord, one of the shelves started moving and Bruce's collection of Ming dynasty vases crashed into the floor

• And that's how Jason found out about the Batcave's old entrance.

• Tim set his voicemail greeting to a record of him saying "Oh hi, thanks for checking in, I'm still a piece of garbage".

• Damian once tried to convince the other batboys into becoming vegetarian when they stopped by the Bat Burger drive-through after patrol. As soon as he realized they weren't buying it, in a fit of rage Damian yelled "Fuck your chicken strips!"

• Barbara often quotes the country boy vine when she's with Dick, but instead of saying "country boy" she says it like "Circus boy, I love yoooooou".

• During meetings in the cave, whenever Bruce asks them to look at some graph from the intel he gathered, the Batkids always snicker then start singing Photograph by Nickelback in unison and Bruce regrets his life choices for 4 minutes and 18 seconds straight.

• Bruce threw a Bat-glare at Steph because he was interrogating a Two-Face thug that was playing dumb and Steph was in the background dancing while singing "Why the fuck you lying? Why you always lying? Stop fucking lying"

• There was this time Jason showed up in the med-bay with two soprano flutes stuck on his nose

• Jason was about to explain to Alfred that Barbara had bet 5 dollars if he played the John Cena theme with two flutes in his nostrils just like the kid from the video

• Before Jason could even speak, Alfred cut him off and said "Save your breath, at this point I'd be far more terrified if I knew what happened.".

• Steph and Cass thought tying a potato to the ceiling fan in Cassandra's bedroom because of that vine would be a good idea

• It was all fun and games until the fan started spinning too fast and the potato flew out and made a hole in the window glass

• Less than 5 minutes after that, a ladder was put near the window and, Alfred, who was trimming the Wayne Manor garden, appeared, covered in leaves and with a head bump

• Alfred retrieved the potato and calmly commented "The fact that this is the most ordinary thing I have seen today really amazes me."

• As soon as he left, a mortifying silence established while Frank Ocean played in the background. That was until Cass mumbled "A potato flew around my head before you came."

• Tim has two Instagram accounts, one for his civilian identity and the other for Red Robin

• One night Bruce made him wait in the Batmobile while he discussed something with Selina

• Tim got bored, sat on the Batmobile driver's seat and started a live stream through his Red Robin account

• During the live, he reenacted the "I'm in my mom's car" vine, but in that part where the mom spoke, Tim would make an impression of Batman saying "Get off my car."

• Batman showed up out of the blue and said "What are you doing in my seat?"

• Tim instantly turned the live off and jumped back to the passenger's seat faster than Flash

• Using Instagram during patrol was banned by Bruce after that night.

• One morning Barbara was having breakfast with Jim and while reading the newspaper headline about Penguin running for mayor, Barbara grumbled "Gosh, sometimes I wish I was Jared, 19"

• James Gordon, a dad confused over social media, especially memes, asks in response: "Who the fuck is that Jared 19 and why the hell so many people want to be like him?"

• After seeing that vine of a cat installing a cable, Damian tried to train Alfred (the cat) into doing the same thing

• Long story short, the family's Xbox was sent to tech support and Damian had to pay for the repair with his allowance.

• One time Dick and Jason were working together on a case about missing children

• "There's only one thing worse than a kidnapper." Dick said as he wrote on a board the word "child" over "kidnapper"

• "A child!" Jason exclaimed with assurance.

• "No!"

• "Especially if that child is Damian."

• "Jason, no!"

• The biggest April fools prank the Batkids ever did was related to a vine.

• There's a vine where a guy brings helium balloons inside a car and the car starts floating.

• So they decided to tie hundreds of balloons into the Batmobile.

• The floating Batmobile was being broadcast all over the news in Gotham.

• Once again Bruce regrets his life choices

• "Have kids, Master Bruce." Bruce grumbled, remembering what Alfred used to tell him. "Kids are good to keep you company, Master Bruce." He grumbled while throwing away a trash bag full of popped balloons. "Should have gotten a ferret. Ferrets don't tie helium balloons to your car, and neither leave the toilet lid open."

#dc comics #batman #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #damian al ghul #robin #barbara gordon #batgirl #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #headcanon #dc comics headcanon #batfamily headcanons #batfam headcanons #headcanons

[jaskierswolf]

The Prince of Darkness

Written for @thewitcherbog flash fic challenge a while back but I never posted!

Rating: M

Summary: Jaskier is the King of the Underworld, and it's Valdo's day of judgement.

CW: Demon!Jaskier (and witchers), implied sexual content, death, torture (burning, choking, freezing.), Jask has an open relationship with all the witchers (but Geralt is his favourite), mentions of non con.

The hotel lobby was sophisticated and yet traditional, like something out of a movie. The dark panelling on the walls were dimly lit by flickering candles, and there was a fireplace roaring in the centre of the foyer, and a handful of gorgeous golden-eyed beauties were making their way around the room. They were finely dressed, perfectly tailored suits with silken blood red waistcoats detailed with golden buttercups, a tray balanced on their hands as they passed out flutes of champagne. In the corner of the room was a black grand piano, the lid propped up as the man behind it let his fingers dance across the ivory keys, rings glistening silver and gold in the candlelight.

Jaskier smiled to himself as he played, his eyes shut, focussing on every little sound in the room, blending it with the music, manipulating the souls around him until they were practically eating out of his hand.

The Prince of Darkness, the mortals called him.

Lucifer himself.

He preferred Jaskier; buttercups were so beautiful, so innocent, so toxic.

It was the perfect moniker.

Lux was his domain, his hotel, a haven for demons and sinners alike, and the perfect stage for when Jaskier had to deal with… unpleasant business. The witchers, as he liked to call his inner circle of demons, would deal with the aftermath, cleaning up the elevator before any of Jaskier’s regular clientele could see.

The witchers were just such good pets.

Geralt approached the piano, his honey golden eyes almost entirely black as they approached the end of another poor soul’s contract. There was an itch that creeped under Jaskier’s skin, hot fire burning through his veins, but it didn’t bother him. No, he relished in the flames, let it warm his cold immortal body. Cracking an eye open, he peered at the witcher who had disturbed his music.

“He’s here, my lord.”

Jaskier sighed, bringing the music to an end, and then, with a snap of his fingers, the ivory keys started to play anew. The song was a familiar tune, a well known pop song from the mortals’ charts. It would keep his honoured guests entertained, after all, at Lux the party never-ended. Those who stepped through the swinging doors were transported to a realm of endless night; cocktails, champagne and designer clothes. The chandelier in the middle of the room twinkled, and there was a sharp clack of high heels on the granite floor as his guests mingled.

None of them ever seemed to realise there was something not quite right about Lux. When they were done partying, when Jaskier had made deals for their souls, they would leave and return to their realm as if they had only been there for an evening, never to return until their contract was up.

And they always returned.

Occasionally, a poor mortal would fight it, realising their impending doom. They’d try to flee the country, get as far away from Lux as possible, but the witchers were excellent hunters. Once the demons got the right scent, they could track their prey to the end of the known universe. The mortals never stood a chance. They either came willingly or they would be dragged through the doors by two of Jaskier’s finest demons; he wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Yes it was simpler if they accepted their fate, but he couldn’t deny that he just adored the thrill of watching the poor terrified soul being thrown at his feet.

He thought of himself as a kind devil, if such a thing existed, his father would certainly disagree, but his father could rot in heaven. Truly, Jaskier did his best to be fair. He granted the mortals wishes and made sure they lived their best lives, he even allowed most of them to live for many decades with the gifts he gave them, their deepest desires. Really, for some of the wishes he’d granted, it would have been kind to allow them even a year of life, let alone what he gave to them.

Ungrateful bastards, the lot of them.

Valdo Marx had been an easy soul to claim; he was greedy, lustful, full of pride. He’d practically begged at Jaskier’s feet back when he was in his first year of university.

“I want to be the best musician the world has ever seen, I want the most beautiful woman, Virginia Stael, to be my wife, and I want-”

Jaskier had waved his hand, his dark feathered wings spreading out behind him, and Valdo’s jaw had snapped shut, muffled sounds coming from his throat.

“I want, I want, I want,” Jaskier had cooed, his finger hooking under Valdo’s chin as he pouted down at the mortal, whipping his tail round to caress down the poor man’s arm until his wrist had been locked in a vice. “Do you know what I want… Marx?”

The wanna-be musician had scoffed, a fatal mistake and one that had cost him years off his life. “Everyone knows that, Lucifer.”

“My name, Valdo, is Jaskier,” he’d hissed, his forked tongue flicking out from his lips as more and more of his devil form had been revealed. “And I just want to have fun.”

“You want my soul.”

“No, your soul is the price. A mere business transaction. I just want to get wasted and shag my rather lovely demons, and you are wasting my time.”

Ah yes. Valdo had always been a little shit-stain in Jaskier’s life, but now his time had come.

The piano music began to build to an earth shattering crescendo, making the glasses rattle, and dust fall from the chandelier. Jaskier cracked his neck, feeling a prickling sensation on his scalp as his horns began to grow, and still the sweet, oblivious mortals noticed nothing. They sipped on their champagne and chatted amongst themselves, ignoring the way Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes slowly turned onyx, his skin deathly pale. He smiled sweetly at his favourite witcher, running his lips along Geralt’s sharp cheekbones.

“Thank you, darling,” he breathed, capturing Geralt’s lips with his, tongues meeting in a quick but heated display of passion.

And then the doors burst open, Lambert and Aiden dragginga handsome but aging man through the doors, grey hairs dusting his temple, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. It had been a long time since Jaskier had seen Valdo Marx, but there was no denying his beauty, now distinguished, a true silver fox. Dark chocolate eyes met his as all the colour drained from Marx’s face.

“Oh God, no… no, please,” he stammered, struggling in the arms of the demons that held him.

“My dear father holds no power here,” Jaskier chuckled, smirking at the man at his feet. “There’s no use in praying. Your soul belongs to me.”

“Lu- Jaskier, please. I’m too young. It’s too soon,” Valdo begged, reaching up to Jaskier with open hands. “My wife, my children.”

“Oh but Valdo, It’s never too soon. I am never early and I never try to back out of a deal, darling,” Jaskier pouted, squatting so he was at eye level with the mortal. “So why don’t you come with me, love? Stop all this fussing. You’re ruining my party.”

With a fire not often seen in mortals, Valdo spat at Jaskier, and an eerie silence fell over the club. The piano music screeched to a halt, the lid closing with a bang, and the only sound was a low rumble of growls from the witchers. Geralt was at Jaskier’s side in a flash, his sword drawn and pointed at the man.

It was sweet.

As if Jaskier couldn’t defend himself, but he did enjoy the show, the way Geralt’s arms would flex as he gripped the sword, twirling it in a circle before executing his victim.

“I had planned to give you an easy death,” Jaskier lied, standing back up to his full demonic height and clearing his face with a snap, “but now, I think I’ll have some fun. Geralt, Eskel, with me. Lambert, Aiden, make sure our guests stay out of the way.”

“No!” Valdo cried, falling once more at Jaskier’s feet, gripping onto his ankles.

Oh, how he loved it when they begged for their lives.

When Jaskier glided through the foyer, picking up a champagne flute from Coen’s tray with barely a brush of his lips to the demon’s cheek, the crowd parted before him. Compliments fell off their tongues, sweet like honey, unaware of the influence Jaskier had over them. They all watched him, they always watched him, so very eager to please. Geralt snarled behind him as one brave mortal rested their hand on Jaskier’s arm, but it was Eskel who snapped their fingers, silent and deadly, before they’d even realised he was there.

Valdo was pulled into the elevator, tears streaming down his face and choked off screams ripping from his throat, but Jaskier remained calm, and if it weren’t for his eyes and the horns amongst his tousled brown hair, he would have looked like any other hotel owner.

Until the doors closed.

And then all hell broke loose; literally. Jaskier’s body cracked and snapped into place as his legs extended to inhuman proportions, his fingers growing into talons, and he let out a sinful moan as his wings unfurled behind him. He flicked out his tail, and his three-piece suit melted away into a gorgeous black silk corset, embroidered with golden buttercups. Red stockings adorned his legs, held up by lacy black garters, and as he flicked out his ankles, a pair of strappy heels materialised on his feet, the soles flashing red before clicking back onto the floor.

“Jaskier, please, please,” Valdo cried, falling against the side of the elevator as lightning sparked and they dropped fast, the dial on the wall spinning out of control.

“Your soul… belongs to me,” Jaskier hissed, pressing Valdo up against the wall, his hands wrapping around his throat.

He was tempted to snog Valdo’s soul right out of him, a sweet kiss to seal the deal, but that was too kind, and he was feeling a little more dramatic than that, so he pushed back off the wall, beating his wings so he hovered just off the floor. Geralt and Eskel were standing on either side of him, swords drawn with toxic black eyes, veins like ink beneath their skin.

Flames burst out behind them, whipping around so the whole elevator was surrounded by a burning pyre, singeing Valdo’s clothes, and the mortal screamed as the fire licked at his hand, scorching the calloused skin. His precious hands, his livelihood, the first things that Jaskier had blessed for him.

There was something so delightfully poetic in that, and Jaskier found great pleasure in it.

“Everyone always thinks that hell is eternal fire,” he purred, stroking a talon along Geralt’s cheek, before pulling Eskel into a soft kiss, taking his time to enjoy the taste of sulfur on his tongue, “but that isn’t always true.”

“W-what?”

Jaskier just pouted at Valdo. “Do try to keep up, darling.”

And then he snapped his fingers, the fire was suddenly extinguished, replaced by a flood of muddy tar. Valdo spluttered and choked as he slid to the ground, the tar catching in his hair, and wherever it landed his handsome looks withered away. The wedding band slipped from his finger and disappeared, despite Valdo’s desperate scrambling to find it.

The muddy mixture spewed all over the lift, covering the two demons as well as their victim, but Jaskier stayed clean and dry, untouched by the tar. He really wasn’t in the mood for ruining his clothes, not like this. He was rather hoping Geralt would tear them from his body later on that day whilst his other beloved witchers watched.

“J-Jaskier!” Valdo screamed, just as the entire elevator froze.

Blue ice creeped up the walls, wrapping around the legs of both the demons and the pitiful mortal on the floor. Valdo sobbed, trying to escape the ice but they both knew it was over. His back pressed against the wall as the ice grew, crystallising over his body, wrapping around his throat. Snowflakes fell from the ceiling, landing in his eyelashes as he struggled to breathe.

And Jaskier stole back his voice.

The final gift.

Valdo’s soul ripped from his body, and the man fell limp against the wall.

With a wave of his hand, Jaskier captured the soul, weaving his magic until a silver fox with chocolate brown eyes was nestled in his arms. He grinned, lowered the fox to the floor and then snapped his fingers to open the doors.

Before he left the elevator, his corset grew into a beautiful gown, split all the way up to his thighs, and his demonic features melted away. He patted Geralt once more on the cheek, pressing their lips together, before striding back into the foyer, not looking back at the frozen massacre he’d left behind. Beside him, a silver fox trotted along, a shadow of the man he used to be.

#the witcher #jaskier loves witchers #demon!jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing

[mooshys]

hq + hogwarts house sorting

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CONGRATULATIONS on your acceptance to HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY on JANUARY 16th, 2021. 

Below are the houses with which some of our finest students have been sorted into along with key characteristics pertaining to them. Each house is equal, but the one you are sorted into will hold a dear place in your heart as your housemates will be like your family. Feel free to get acquainted with the customs of each house in the days before the first term. 

I wish you all the best with your sorting ceremony,

AURORA

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GRYFFINDOR ➝ daichi, ushijima, iwaizumi, aran, yaku, tanaka, nishinoya, hoshiumi, hinata, goshiki

HOUSE AESTHETICS ➝ freckles on your nose from sun exposure, the horizon seen from the top of a mountain, freshly squeezed orange juice, beat up sneakers from years of wear, wildflower bouquets, rubies on a crown, old movie tickets kept in your pocket, lightning storms in the summer, dirt paths leading you to a forest, apple pie baked in the morning, bandages wrapped around your fingers, cherry lip balm, fraying denim, popping of champagne bottles, t-shirts tossed to the side to dive headfirst into a lake, names carved on the trunk of a tree, mismatched earrings, stained glass windows with sunlight filtering through them

LOVE FOR A GRYFFINDOR ➝ forehead kisses, engulfing you in back hugs and rocking you from side to side while humming, singing along to your favorite song, a polaroid picture of you in their wallet, introducing you to their family with pride in their eyes, holding your hand tighter when navigating through a crowd, getting you a locket with a photo of you two as a birthday gift, saying “I love you” as soon as they realize

WHAT SETS THEM APART ➝ the ones willing to take the jump without knowing if the water is too cold or too shallow, the ones who stand by your side and fight for what is right, the ones who are not afraid of what others think, the ones who run to the ends of the earth for you, the ones who are fearless

SHENANIGANS IN THE COMMON ROOM ➝ bringing in plates of food from the great hall and creating different concoctions in the middle of the night, making giant pillow forts and chatting there until the early morning, sneaking out to the quidditch pitch to watch the sunrise

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SLYTHERIN ➝ oikawa, tendou, semi, daishou, sugawara, atsumu, osamu, sakusa, futakuchi, shirabu

HOUSE AESTHETICS ➝ silver jewelry that never tarnishes, fur coats to keep you warm in the winter, the perfect red lipstick, dark chocolate covered strawberries, renaissance paintings, vines of ivy scaling castle walls, drips of wax from a candle stick, the sounds of an orchestra reverberating through an opera house, black turtlenecks, gold fountain pens, espresso from rome, leather gloves, crescent moons, head busts of roman emperors, wire rimmed glasses, silk, blackberries picked from your home garden to make jam, berets, flute glasses being held for a toast, gold cufflinks with a family emblem, pristine robes

LOVE FOR A SLYTHERIN ➝ banter going back and forth as flirtatious plights, making fun of cheesy movies together, gifts of jewelry for anniversaries, kisses on your neck, your perfume being their favorite scent, retreats to a winter cottage for vacation together, shielding you from the rain with their coat during an unexpected storm, whispering “I love you” in your ear in the middle of a crowd to see what kind of reaction you’d give them

WHAT SETS THEM APART ➝ the ones who walk in a room and command its attention, the ones who seize the day with an iron grip, the ones who know their talents and polish them until they shine brightest, the ones who walk with their heads held up highest, the ones who are exceptional

SHENANIGANS IN THE COMMON ROOM ➝ poker nights with sweets from honeydukes used as chips, wizard chess bets leaving some of the younger students broke after multiple heated game, putting toads underneath blankets as a prank and the perpetrators waking up with a jelly-leg curse

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HUFFLEPUFF ➝ asahi, bokuto, hanamaki, matsukawa, komori, yamaguchi, yachi, lev, koganegawa

HOUSE AESTHETICS ➝ picnic spreads in front of a sparkling lake, sunlight illuminating your irises, washi tape, amber gemstones held up to the sky, the last string of honey stuck on a spoon, letters from friends and past lovers stored in an old cookie tin, green pastures with cows grazing the land, roasted chestnuts, rows of tulips, lace sewn on your sleeves, wooden figurines, lazing underneath a willow tree, paint brushes, walnut brownies baked after dinner, sheen on the highest points of your face, seashells kept from the beach, fluffy clouds shaped like animals, cookies wrapped with parchment paper and tied with twine

LOVE FOR A HUFFLEPUFF ➝ groggily mumbling “five more minutes” in the morning before getting out of bed because they love the way your body is pressed against theirs, always making two cups of coffee in the morning, putting a blanket over your body when you’re sleeping on the couch, getting your favorite ice cream pint at the supermarket even though you didn’t write it on the grocery list, being the first one to text you on your birthday, showing “I love you” through remembering all the things that make you special

WHAT SETS THEM APART ➝ the ones who always stop and lend a hand, the ones who give up what is theirs if it benefits others, the ones who never forget your name, the ones who make the biggest sacrifice, the ones who are altruistic

SHENANIGANS IN THE COMMON ROOM ➝ sitting near the fireplace and roasting s’mores together, dance parties and clanking of butterbeer glasses to celebrate the end of exams, playing a game of pictionary instead of doing homework

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RAVENCLAW ➝ kuroo, kita, kiyoko, kenma, hirugami, akaashi, suna, ennoshita, terushima, kunimi, tsukishima, kageyama

HOUSE AESTHETICS ➝ passing notes stained with coffee in secrecy, sugar cubes dissolving in a cup of tea, constellations telling stories from generations past, violets, blankets of soft snow seen outside your window, chunky boots, running your fingers across a velvet blanket, sleeping with a book covering your eyes from the sun, stardust, notes written next to your favorite scene in a play, gold trimmed letters, ink smeared on fingers, the tail of a cat swinging back and forth, telescopes, mascara smudged at the corners of your eyes, a scarf knitted by a close friend

LOVE FOR A RAVENCLAW ➝ two a.m. facetime calls talking about anything and everything until it’s silent on both ends and neither of you mind because time spent together is never a minute wasted, chaste kisses when passing through rows of shelves in the library, sharing your favorite songs with each other, reading a book because you offhandedly mentioned it once, falling down the rabbit hole and never wanting to escape, writing “I love you” at the corner of your notebook and waiting until you notice

WHAT SETS THEM APART ➝ the ones who pause and always pick the right words, the ones who devise plans like no other, the ones who try to understand everything the universe has to offer, the ones who will go above and beyond to change the system, the ones who are erudite

SHENANIGANS IN THE COMMON ROOM ➝ students gathered together with bowls of popcorn to watch a meteor shower, jeopardy games regarding historical magical figures being played with the stakes of winner getting their homework done by everyone else for a week, all nighters dedicated to deciphering ancient text

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#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #hq!! #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #hq x hp #karasuno #aoba johsai #seijoh #inarizaki #shiratorizawa #fukurodani #<- I am not tagging all the characters lmao #bring back 2015 aesthetic lists #the first time I got sorted I was a ravenclaw #the second time I got sorted I was a gryffindor #someone stop me from making hc lists it's like a curse at this point

[shhhhyoursister]

enemies to lovers/band!au

okay yeah heres the final one, the big boy, the one im probably proudest of, i really really hope you guys like it!!

Matteo was lucky that the conductor liked him, because showing up 10 minutes late to the first rehearsal of the year was bad, even for him. Matteo wasn’t known to be the most responsible member of the band, and usually the only thing he could be counted on to do right every rehearsal was show up, and show up on time. He adjusted his grip on his baritone case as he sped down the hall of the music department, cursing as he checked the time on his phone again, and when he got to the door of the theater they rehearsed in, he cracked it open as quietly as he could.

“Ah, Matteo!” the conductor yelled from the stage, and Matteo flinched before stepping fully into the room, “You decided to show up! I was worried you quit after playing that really loud wrong note at the concert last semester.”

“Which one?” Matteo joked back, knowing that if it was any other professor he would have just apologized and rushed to put his instrument together. He was on a first name basis with Rick, who was probably the most laid back member of the music faculty. Some of the players on stage laughed at the exchange, and Matteo smiled as he popped his case open.

“Just hurry up, we do actually need a full band to rehearse,” Rick said, turning back to his stand with a chuckle, “and poor David looks like he’s going to explode if we don’t start soon.”

Matteo rolled his eyes. As if that would make him set his baritone up faster. He ignored the second wave of laughter that followed the conductor’s comment and grabbed the folder with his music, and made his way onto the stage. He took his seat next to the other baritones, in the third chair, and tried to ignore the glare he could feel coming from the clarinet section.

Matteo was a little upset that he had missed his favorite part of each rehearsal; before Rick got there, when people were still whispering to their stand partners, some quietly tuning their instruments or practicing difficult measures, some tapping their feet and counting out the beats. It felt more alive than when everyone was coming together to play one piece, and while Matteo loved the sound of a full band playing beautiful music, he really needed that calm before the storm. It reminded him that the music that he listened to came from people like him, who had to practice and tune and count and focus to produce the notes and phrases that seemed to flow so naturally.

He risked a glance over at David when Rick asked him to play a note so he could tune the band to it, and, like always, felt a little bit of a shiver run through him when he watched David take a deep breath before playing out a long, perfectly in-tune note. He knew it wasn’t only because of the sound of the clarinet, which Matteo secretly thought was the nicest sounding of all the wind instruments. Although David couldn’t stand him, and Matteo didn’t have too many kind feelings towards him either, it was hard to deny that first of all, David was an amazing musician, and second of all, much less importantly, he was really hot.

Matteo didn’t feel bad for thinking it. Every person in the band who was into men was into David. Matteo would hear girls whispering about him while they were setting up their flutes and oboes, and there was the one guy in the saxophone section who had been trying to get his number for a year. It was old news, but Matteo couldn’t help himself from staring at David when he had long measures of rests, and had to admit that David was the cause of his distraction during some rehearsals.

Rick finished tuning the band, and had them flip to the piece that Matteo was the least confident in. He looked up and took a breath with the whole band when the conductor brought his arms up, and dropped his eyes back to the notes a split second before the downbeat.

Inevitably, Matteo got to a part in the song where he had four measures of rest, and he leaned back in his chair a bit and stretched his neck out. He was counting on his fingers and tapping his foot to the tempo and managed to come back in at the right time, only for Rick to cut them off as he flipped aggressively through the papers on his stand.

“Where is the second page? Why do I only have half of the score here?” He asked angrily, and then huffed and said, “Okay, everyone take out the next piece. David, take over for me.”

Matteo rolled his eyes as Rick walked off the stage, and David took his place in front of the band. David always got the most cocky, smug look whenever he was asked to conduct, and some people rolled their eyes because they knew David was harsher, faster, and much less forgiving than Rick was.

“Okay guys, remember we tried to play this last semester, but some people couldn’t keep up,” his eyes flicked to Matteo, who just shrugged, and then smiled as the frown on David’s face deepened and he continued, “as long as everyone watches me, we’ll be able to get through it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

That won’t be too hard, Matteo thought to himself, and smiled before bringing his lips to the mouthpiece.

They got through the first half of the song with no issues, David going slower than usual to let people warm up to playing it again. Matteo knew that the only reason he hadn’t messed up yet was because his eyes were glued to his sheet music, but he saw that the tempo was changing in a few measures so he would have to look up. Once he did, he caught sight of the serious expression on David’s face, his eyes scanning over the band and darting down to the score in front of him, his arms waving and emphasizing different beats in a fluid and practiced way, keeping the tempo while cuing the other instruments to come in.

“Stop, stop! You were supposed to come in there, baritones, what happened? Are we playing too slow for you?”

Matteo (and everyone else) knew that when David was yelling at the baritones, he was really yelling at Matteo. His animosity was known amongst the other students in the band, so they weren’t surprised to hear a critique aimed at that section of the low brass. That was confirmed when Matteo looked up to see David glaring directly at him, his hand that wasn’t holding the baton clenched tightly around the stand.

They got through the rest of the song with no incidents, Matteo purposefully playing quieter to avoid making any loud mistakes. Rick came back just as David was berating them for speeding up at the end, and he clapped him on the shoulder before waving the missing pages of his score in the air.

“Thank you, David, for re-traumatizing your bandmates. Let’s go back to the first piece, and I promise I won’t yell as much as he did.”

The band laughed and David chuckled (at least he’s self aware, Matteo thought to himself) as he took his seat, with one final glance in Matteo’s direction. They could both see each other from where they were sitting, David being at the end of the second row and Matteo diagonal across from him in the back. He watched as David settled back into his seat and picked his clarinet up, his tongue flicking out to wet the reed, and when David’s eyes shifted back over to him he blushed and looked down at the floor. He scowled, angry that he got caught staring.

***

He struggled through the first week, playing confidently when he could and quieting down whenever he got lost until he could figure out where they were again. Sometimes he found himself so confused he would whisper out of the corner of his mouth, “Where are we?” to his stand partner, and she would roll her eyes before pointing out the correct measure.

The next week of rehearsals, Matteo started out on a much better foot. He was running early as opposed to late, and he hummed to himself as he strolled calmly down the hall leading to the theater. There was one measure of their newest song that he just couldn’t get right, and he flipped open his folder as he walked, knowing that the page with that measure would be at the front. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking, tapping out the beat of the notes on his hip, and just as he turned the corner into the room he crashed into someone leaving, and heard an annoyed, “Are you serious?”

He tensed when he recognized David’s voice, and looked up to see the exact glare he was expecting aimed directly at him. He almost missed the stack of papers that David had dropped, and only noticed when one sheet landed perfectly on top of his open folder.

“Sorry,” Matteo muttered, not knowing what else to say, “let me help.”

“No, I’ll do it,” David snapped back, the glare on his face darkening a little as he snatched the paper on top of Matteo’s folder and said, “I had them organized by section, and by part. You’d just fuck it up. Go set up.”

Matteo took a deep breath through his nose, tired of being torn down every single time David spoke to him, and he took another breath before glaring back and saying, “I wouldn’t fuck it up. I know how sheet music works.”

“Yeah, but if Rick wanted you doing any of this I’m sure he would have asked,” David scoffed, kneeling down so he could gather the papers together, “but he didn’t.”

Matteo bit his lip as felt something angry building in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t professional or smart of him to do but he couldn’t help but bite back, “Look, we all know that you’re just using us to set yourself up for the future, and that’s fine, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to be a fucking asshole all the time.”

He stormed off before he could see David’s reaction, and set his baritone up with trembling fingers. He was already in his seat and tuned up by the time David stalked into the theater with all of the papers, and Matteo watched with a smug grin as David quietly apologized to Rick for being late before handing off the sheet music and taking his seat. He grabbed his clarinet, his fingers pressing down on the keys harder than was probably good for them, and shot Matteo one final, piercing glare before turning to his music. Matteo smiled to himself as the conductor got everyone’s attention.

***

Things got a little more tense after that.

Getting even more on the bad side of the most talented, and most respected (and most feared) musician in the band was not Matteo’s best idea, but he had no idea how to fix it, and didn’t even know if he cared enough to.

Matteo didn’t know exactly what he was going to do once he graduated, but assumed that he’d figure something out. Pit bands were always looking for fresh talent, so he assumed that he would join one of those and get some menial job on the side while he waited to see where his life would lead. He knew that David, on the other hand, had a plan, and it seemed like their interaction in the hallway led David to believe that Matteo was the one thing standing in his way.

Another week of rehearsals went by, Matteo trying his best not to mess up, and failing almost every session. He knew that his conductor was starting to get a little frustrated, and he didn’t know how to explain that his new bout of issues weren’t coming from a lack of understanding the music; it was just difficult to play when you could feel someone openly glaring at you anytime the first clarinets had rests in the music. He and David hadn’t spoken or interacted at all since the incident in the hallway. They had never really spoken before that, so it wasn’t too unusual, but that amount of glaring was new.

And after a day or two, Matteo started glaring back. He would only do it when David wasn’t looking at him, either focused on the music or counting or watching the conductor, and it felt like the smallest form of retaliation that Matteo was willing to participate in. He knew that he couldn’t talk back to Rick, and he was doing all he could to avoid having to actually speak with David, so the glaring was a good alternative.

It was also a bit of a problem, the glaring. Sometimes Matteo would get lost in his own anger, resulting in him getting lost in the music, and Rick would stop the band and tell the baritones to pay attention to the music, not their bandmates, and Matteo would whip his head back to his music, his cheeks red at being caught.

It came to a head during one rehearsal, the first rehearsal since the glaring had started where Rick had to step out of the room. He handed David his baton and walked off with a wave of his hand, and Matteo noticed David smirking in his direction as he took up the position in front of the band.

“Okay, we’re going to start at measure 46,” David said, his eyes yet again scanning over every member of the band, squinting a little as they passed over Matteo, “the low brass has really been struggling with this section, and I’m going to take it faster so we can see exactly who is having trouble.”

Matteo’s eyes widened as he looked over the part David was referencing, realizing quickly that it was the hardest set of measures for the baritone section out of all of their pieces. He looked up again, trying to look determined despite the nerves starting to make his fingers twitch on the valves of his baritone, and caught David smirking at him again. David raised the baton, and Matteo lifted his baritone to his mouth and tried to focus his eyes on the music.

He managed to play through the first few measures correctly, but his nerves got the best of him and he messed up in one of the worst ways you can mess up as a musician; playing during a full-band rest. He felt his entire body tense up as half the band turned to stare at him, and he knew that it was the perfect excuse for David to go off on him.

“I heard that in the baritones, don’t let me hear it again.” David said sternly, the tip of the baton pointing right at Matteo. He looked mad, but there was something slightly encouraging there too, like he was trying to give Matteo another chance.

Matteo was surprised but grateful that his mistake didn’t send David into a fit and really tried to take that second chance and run with it. They started playing again, and Matteo made it through that measure, and then managed to mess up on the next one. He held one note too long and then played a sharp instead of a flat, and David didn’t stop the band but his head flicked to Matteo and he gave him a look that made his fingers freeze, and it took him a measure to come back in because for some reason that look scared him more than the many critiques and looks he had gotten in the past. David looked furious, as if Matteo was messing up intentionally.

They played through the rest of the section, Matteo getting less tense the more measures he played right, and just as they reached the last measure Rick came back into the theater, the door creaking a little behind him, but enough that it distracted Matteo, who not only played the last note wrong, but he felt his face heat up at the monstrous honk that came out the bell of his instrument.

“Matteo!” David snapped, and his other hand grabbed the top half of the baton and quickly bent it, snapping that as well.

Most of the band  gasped, Matteo included. David seemed shocked himself, staring down at the fractured wood in his hands. Rick walked up to him and without saying a word, grabbed the two pieces, and turned to face the band with a stoic expression.

“I think I’ll call it for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, before dropping a hand onto David’s shoulder and looking up at Matteo and saying, “You two, in my office.”

Matteo gulped, and tried to ignore the look on David’s face as he got out of his seat and made his way over to his case. He put his baritone away slowly, watching as the rest of the band filtered out through the main doors, some shooting him sympathetic looks as they walked out. He might not have been the best member of the band, but he was nice enough that most people liked him enough, and probably felt bad knowing that he was about to get screamed at. He looked away when he saw David walk into Rick’s office hot on his heels, already saying something that would probably get Matteo in more trouble.

He made his way over to the office once he had all of his stuff together, and took a deep breath before knocking on the door and walking in. He entered and saw Rick sitting at his desk, looking annoyed, and David standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he had just finished ranting, his face red and his chest heaving, and he turned to fix Matteo with a glare as he walked into the room.

“I don’t know why two of my best musicians hate each other as much as you guys do,” he started, and Matteo’s eyes widened a bit at the bluntness of his statement along with the compliment, “but you need to work it out before next week.”

“Sir, I don’t know if I’d say he’s one of the best-” David started, his voice hiding the hint of a pretentious laugh, and before thinking about it Matteo cut him off.

“You don’t know shit about how I play.”

David turned to him with tight lips and said, “Well, I’ve conducted you before, so I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, how could I forget being verbally abused.”

“It wasn’t abuse, if you aren’t going to play right I’m going to say something and I’m sorry if I don't sugarcoat it. I focus on being right, not on being nice.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Matteo muttered under his breath, and just as David turned to him to snap back at him, Rick clapped his hands together, loudly.

“Okay, I know what we’re going to do to fix this.”

***

That was how Matteo found himself the next day, an hour before band was supposed to start, during his only free period of the day, making his way to the music building so he could get to the practice rooms. He was walking slow, making sure to be on time but exactly on time, because he didn’t want to spend a second longer with David than he had to.

To their chagrin, Rick decided that the best way for the two to get along was for David to help Matteo figure out the parts of the music that he was struggling with. He had set up mandatory twice a week private sessions for both of them. Matteo had a feeling they wouldn’t make it past the first week without screaming at each other.

Matteo got to the door of the room he was meant to meet David in, and he could hear shuffling so he knew David was there already. He rolled his eyes and braced himself before pushing into the room.

“Put your instrument together,” David said, not even looking at Matteo as he set two chairs up in front of a stand, “ and get your music out. Let’s not be here any longer than we have to be.”

David finally turned around when Matteo didn’t move, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo had been expecting the hostility, and knew what he wanted to say in response.

“If we’re being forced to do this,” he said calmly, dropping his baritone case on the chair and popping it open, “I’m not going to let you be a dick to me. You need to be here just as much as I do. If you’re mean I’ll walk out, and then we’re both fucked. Don’t test me.”

He turned and started setting his baritone up, not waiting for David to react or respond to what he said. He only looked up at him once he sat in the chair and had his music on the stand, and he was surprised to see David look down at the ground, his face almost completely neutral except for the corners of his lips, which were twitching up a little.

“Fine,” David said, sitting down in the other chair, moving his leg quickly when his knee bumped into Matteo’s, “Play it right and I won’t be a dick.”

Matteo rolled his eyes but figured that was the best he was going to get, so he took a deep breath before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

He played through the first few measures that David pointed at, trying to be as quick as he could while still following the tempo David was tapping out and playing the notes correctly. He knew that he had nowhere to hide if he messed up. Not that he really did during their bigger rehearsals, but he also felt much more confident playing by himself. He knew he wasn’t going to mess up the timing of anything, but he was worried about a set of measures near the end that had a beat that was so complicated he couldn’t figure it out.

He messed up right away when they got to it and he stopped, expecting David to make some harsh comment that would have him snapping back, but was surprised when his only reaction was, “Go back a few measures, try it again.”

He tried again and messed it up the same way, and then tried again, before putting his baritone down with a huff. He was frustrated at himself for messing it up, especially for messing it up in front of David, knowing that there was no way he wouldn’t say something sarcastic or rude after Matteo messed up for the third time.

“Why are you counting it like that?” David asked, his voice surprisingly devoid of any mocking or cruel tone. He sounded genuinely curious, but Matteo was still wary.

“I don’t know, because that’s how it looks?” He answered quickly, rolling his eyes, shifting uncomfortably under his horn.

“If I’m promising not to be a dick, you need to promise to take this seriously,” David said, turning to look directly at Matteo for the first time since the lesson had started, “I know you don’t really care about all this, but I do, so if that means teaching you how to fucking count I’ll do it. Now, play it again, but right.”

“Who says I don’t care?” Matteo asked, keeping his baritone firmly in his lap, “And I know how to count. That measure just makes no fucking sense.”

“Yes it does, you just aren’t counting it right,” David said, his voice tight, and he took a breath before saying more calmly, “here, give me your horn, I’ll show you.”

Matteo hesitated before handing it over, and he sighed a little in relief when David took Matteo’s mouthpiece off and took another one out of his bag.

Matteo was always impressed at the sound that David was able to pull out of any instrument he touched. There were multiple times where their conductor would ask David to grab an extra trumpet or sax or flute or set of mallets for a marimba, and would shove him wherever the band needed extra help. The only reason he never sent him to sit with Matteo’s section was because they didn’t have any extra horns, and Matteo was beyond grateful for that.

David pointed at the measure, and said, “See, you’re playing this,” he played out the beat that Matteo had been playing and then stopped and said, “but that amount of notes doesn’t fit in the measure, you’re adding an extra one in the middle. It’s supposed to sound like this,” he raised the baritone to his lips again and played out the measure, tapping his foot loudly as he continued playing so Matteo could hear how that measure fit into the rest of the phrase.

He gave Matteo the horn back after switching the mouthpieces again, and Matteo hesitated before starting to play again, and when he got to the measure and played it the way David showed him, it flowed perfectly into the next one and he even saw David smile a little.

“Yeah, you got it that time,” David said, and Matteo smiled back at him before turning back to his music as David said, “now let’s fix this other part.”

***

After a couple of weeks of the private sessions, Matteo was starting to sense a pattern. They would be completely civil during their one-on-one sessions, David only critiquing when necessary and only with comments that were actually helpful, and then they would get to band and it would start all over again. Matteo would get lost, Rick would snap at his section, he would look over and see David glaring at him or shaking his head in disappointment.

He didn’t know why it was getting to him in a way that it hadn’t before. He always knew that David was a little tougher on him than others, but he had really been hoping that the private sessions would stop the glares and the looks and the scoffs whenever he messed up. If anything, the private sessions only made the actual rehearsals worse.

The second boiling point was reached their third week of the private sessions. Matteo had sat through his perfectly cordial hour with David before band, and was even looking forward to playing that day. He felt like he had finally nailed the set of measures that he and David had been working on so he was excited for Rick to hear him play it right. He was so giddy about it that he even smiled when he caught David looking at him from across the band. David had raised a confused eyebrow at him before shifting his gaze back to the front of the band, and Matteo blushed and looked down at the ground, feeling a little silly.

Again, after a little while the conductor had to step away, and again David took his place at the stand, and picked up the baton. He looked right at Matteo as he told the band that they were going to start a few measures before the one Matteo had been messing up, and he sat up a little straighter and returned the look, nodding when David finished speaking. David nodded the slightest bit back at him before raising his arms, and Matteo breathed with the rest of the band before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

And it was like nothing had changed. Matteo found himself getting lost watching David’s waving his arms in all directions, wild but completely in control of himself and the band. He missed one note and David’s eyes flicked to him, and held there as Matteo panicked and stumbled his way through the measure that he had spent two weeks of private lessons fixing.

He saw David’s jaw clench and he cut the band off with a sharp wave of his hand, before turning his full body in Matteo’s direction to say, “So the last few weeks have been a total waste of my time?”

Matteo didn’t think before standing up and walking off the stage, and out of the theater. He ignored the whispers and looks that followed him out, didn’t think about when he was going to be able to go back and get his case and bag and music, and he walked to the hallway of practice rooms and entered one, slamming the door behind him.

***

He emailed Rick and got permission to skip rehearsal the next day, the conductor ending the email with We really need to figure this out before your issues with David end up hurting the rest of the band. Matteo had read the response and collapsed back into bed, glaring over at his baritone (in the case, his roommate and friends brought his stuff out for him after he left).

It was also the first night of the first concert in the music department. Matteo wasn’t performing but he was required to go, and as he got himself ready in his appropriate concert attire, he worried over the fact that David was going to be there, to perform and to watch. Matteo couldn’t think of something he’d like to do less than watch the dude who embarrassed him in front of their entire band perform and get endless praise for it.

Matteo sat quietly next to his friends throughout the concert, and when David walked onto the stage, he felt himself tense up. His best friend Jonas, a trumpet player who was more than aware of the situation in and out of rehearsal, put a hand on his leg and squeezed, trying to offer a bit of comfort. Matteo smiled tightly at him as David lifted his clarinet to his lips and took a deep breath.

No matter how much Matteo hated him, he couldn’t ignore the fact that David was the best clarinet player he had ever heard. It was like his body and his clarinet were formed together, the way he breathed sound through it and moved around it, how quickly he could run his fingers over the keys and play the most complicated string of notes without a single flaw. Matteo found himself entranced by the song David played, and he opened his eyes when the last note faded out into the otherwise silent theater, and he watched as David kept his clarinet up for a beat after the song finished before his eyes opened, and they looked directly into Matteo’s as the audience clapped around him.

He looked away as quickly as he could, ignoring the face Jonas made at his sudden movement, and tried to focus his attention completely on the girl who stepped up next with her violin. He only let his eyes flick to David once more before the concert was over, and while his view was obscured because David was sitting a few rows ahead of him, Matteo could see his fingers twitching in his lap, probably resisting the urge to make the player follow his lead. The concert was over after that last girl, and Matteo turned to his friends quickly to stop himself from staring in David’s direction again.

Coincidentally, (or not at all) the night of the first concert in the music department was also the night of the first party being held by some people in the percussion section, a couple of guys who had a big house that was perfect for hosting a bunch of drunk but mild-mannered music majors.

Matteo had barely even wanted to go, knowing that his reputation amongst the rest of the band was not a great one. He wasn’t hated, but most only knew of him because of the amount of times per rehearsal the conductor would have to stop and critique the baritones (him) or tell the baritones (him) what measure they were on, and now because of all the new drama with David. He also didn’t want to face his bandmates after walking out during the last rehearsal, but the pushing and prodding of his friends made him reluctantly agree.

“Dude, we’re gonna get you so fucked up you can’t even think about what an asshole Schreibner is,” Carlos said as they made their way to the house.

Matteo snorted as they turned onto the correct block, and they quickly spotted the house that was holding the party. There were lights and music loud enough that they could hear it down the street, and Carlos and Abdi started whooping before running over to it.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Jonas said when Matteo hesitated near the front door.

Matteo waited another second before shoving into the house, and throwing back over his shoulder, “Who cares about that asshole, I want to drink!”

And drink he did. Matteo was on his third beer after only twenty minutes, and he was considering it a win that he hadn’t seen David yet. He could feel himself getting more drunk, and didn’t know what he would even say to David if he saw him. He was glad that the little corner of the room he and his friends had grabbed seemed to be pretty hidden away.

Matteo was handed a joint after a little while and he grabbed it quickly, sticking the end in his mouth and taking a deep hit. He closed his eyes as he blew the smoke out his nose, and took another hit as he opened his eyes slowly, and saw David walk into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Matteo though, seemingly focused on getting to someone that was standing in the opposite corner.

“I didn’t know that David and Leonie are friends,” Carlos said quietly, staring over at the two, “she’s in the orchestra with Kiki. I heard she’s just like David but worse.”

“Matteo would love her, then,” Jonas said, ruffling his hair, and he flipped him off before taking another hit and passing the joint along.

“Why are talented and attractive people such assholes,” Matteo said, and when the three other boys turned to him, their eyes wide, he asked, “what?”

“Did you just say something nice about David?” Abdi asked with a grin, and Matteo rolled his eyes as the boys all oooohed.

“Me saying he’s attractive and talented isn’t nice, especially when that was the lead up to me calling him an asshole,” Matteo said, grabbing the joint when it was handed back to him, “I don’t have a single nice thing to say about David. He can play good, but he’s a piece of shit and nobody is going to hire someone with his kind of attitude. He thinks just ‘cause he can play and wave his arms around in the air that he’s going to become a famous musician and conductor, but he needs to work on being a decent fucking person first.”

His rant wasn’t the most coherent, but it felt good to get off his chest, and he leaned back against the wall and took a hit to emphasize his point. The boys were quiet, and when Matteo raised an eyebrow at Jonas, he tilted his head to the front of the group where David was standing, scowling at him.

“We need to fucking talk.” David growled out through his teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, looking like he was going to vibrate out of his skin with the amount of tension in his body.

Matteo said nothing but handed the joint off, and followed after David when he turned and walked out of the room. He was done. At that point he didn’t give a fuck if he got kicked from the program, or if he was fucking kicked out of the school, because he and David needed to settle whatever their issue was then and there.

David led him down the hall and he knocked loudly on a door before shoving it open, and grabbed Matteo’s wrist to pull him inside. Matteo noticed it was a bathroom, and quickly glanced around to see if anybody was watching them. He wondered what they thought was happening. Someone in the band would probably recognize the stiff way David was holding his body, and see Matteo trailing almost lazily behind him, and know that something was about to go down. But someone else might just see two boys going into a bathroom together at a party, and come to a completely different conclusion. Matteo almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, he was gay, but he didn’t know if David was. He didn’t know if David even had the time or patience to date or hook up with anyone.

He could tell that his apparent apathy towards the situation was just pissing David off further, so he closed the door slowly, not even locking it before leaning back against it with a bored sigh. He definitely wasn’t actually as calm as he looked; he crossed his arms across his chest so the shaking in his hands would be less obvious, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep his face neutral when he saw how angry David was. He didn’t think David was going to hurt him or anything, but he was terrified about what the fight could lead to when it came to his position in the band.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Matteo, but I don’t have any kind of attitude. I care about what I do and I want it to be done right. It’s not my fault that you don’t care enough to actually try, but it is really fucking with my experience here,” David said quietly, his voice a little too calm for his red face and clenched fists, “I can’t conduct a band when I need to stop every five seconds because you lose your place.”

Matteo snorted, and leaned his head back against the door. It was taking him a minute to figure out what he wanted to say and he was surprised that David was quiet, like he was giving Matteo the time to think.

“David,” Matteo said, after figuring out what was probably the dumbest part of the whole issue, “you’re good enough to be hired anywhere. Me being a shitty band member won’t stop you,” he paused for a moment, and then picked his head up and said, “And I do try. I’m good. The only reason I’m still here is because they know I’m good. I just don’t need to prove it like you do.”

He was glad that his mind was clear enough to get his exact point across, and he watched David as his words sunk in, realizing that David had probably drank too, considering the way he was leaning back on the counter, his legs a little unsteady. David stared at Matteo for a minute before standing up straighter.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” he said, “I know I’m good.”

“Then why are you such a dick?” Matteo asked, “Like, specifically to me? Yeah, you yell at everyone but you’re just mean to me. Are you homophobic or something?”

Matteo couldn’t stop the thought from drifting through his mind and out his drunk mouth. Maybe David was, and there was going to be no way to solve the issue. What the fuck would he tell Rick?

“What? No, I’m not homophobic,” David said, looking like he wanted to laugh at the idea but was too confused to, “I’m trans.”

“Trans people can be homophobic.” Matteo said, shrugging, knowing that it was a stupid point to make. He was honestly just happy for a break in the tension.

David actually laughed, before tilting his head and smirking at Matteo and saying, “Trust me, I’m not. That would be kinda weird considering I’m also not straight.”

The way he said it made something hot bloom in Matteo’s stomach, and he hated his stupid, gay brain for reacting. That statement combined with the look on David’s face, and the fact that despite their stupid rivalry David was still really fucking hot, was making Matteo lose sight of the original conversation a little.

“You’re hot.” He said, verbalizing his thoughts before he could stop himself, and then he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lip, half terrified that David was going to get angrier, and half glad that he was just getting everything off his chest thanks to the alcohol in his system.

David fell back against the counter, the smirk dropping from his face, and he blinked before stammering out, “Uh. What?”

“I think you heard me,” Matteo said, shrugging, and then he looked off to the side before looking back at David’s confused face and saying again, “you’re hot.”

“Why- what does that have to do with any of this?” David asked, and Matteo couldn’t tell if he was angrier but he sounded different, in a way that made him stand up against the door a little.

He just shrugged again, and then stared at David as he tried to work through whatever was going on in his head. Matteo watched as he stood still for a minute, his fists loosening and tightening at his sides, and he watched as David’s eyes scanned up and down his body with the same focus they would scan the band with, and he watched as David pushed himself off the sink, took a few confident steps forward, and shoved Matteo against the door and pressed their lips together.

Matteo’s eyes widened and then slid closed as he felt David’s hands clutching tight onto his hips, and he grabbed at David’s arms and just as he started moving his lips David pulled away roughly, and was back against the sink in a second.

“That was a bad idea,” David said, holding onto the edge of the sink, avoiding Matteo’s eyes by looking off to the side, “we’re both drunk, we’re fighting, we can’t do that.”

“We don’t have to fight,” Matteo said, knowing that it probably was a bad idea but stepping forward anyway, until he was close enough to see just how tight David was anchoring himself to the sink, “you can tell me to fuck off and I will. Or,” he said, taking another step closer until his foot was kicking against David’s and he could reach out and grab his wrist, “I can stay.”

David only looked back at him when he felt the tug on his arm, and he looked down at Matteo’s hand before looking him in the eyes. Matteo took a risk and slid his hand down, grabbing David’s, and was shocked when David used that grip to pull him in for another kiss, backing him up until his back was smacking into the door again. He got an arm around David’s neck before he was pulling away,  again, and Matteo sighed as David rubbed a hand over his face and said, “Fuck, no, this is such a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” Matteo said, rolling his shoulders as he asked, “can you just make up your mind? This is hurting my back.”

David looked at Matteo again, looked him up and down the same way that he had earlier that night, and something seemed to click. He tilted his head again, his eyes filled with a sudden new brightness as he stepped forward, placing his hands on the door on either side of Matteo’s hips, boxing him in.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, and Matteo raised an eyebrow, amused, before he continued, “whatever happens tonight happens, and then we don’t talk about it, and it never happens again. Deal?”

Matteo thought it over for a minute, more trying to get one last little jab at David by making him wait for an answer, and once he saw David’s face go from confident to bordering on annoyed, he grinned and stuck out his hand, and said, “Deal.”

David ignored his hand but grabbed his ass and pulled him in close, his hands dragging up to Matteo’s waist as their mouths met again, and Matteo slid a hand into David’s hair and let himself melt against the door.

***

Matteo woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a bad headache, both of which he attributed to the hangover he almost definitely had. He couldn’t even remember drinking that much, but the pain behind his eyes was more than just him being tired like usual. He got himself out of bed, just wanting to drink some water and get into a hot shower to wash away the sweat and alcohol from the party.

He got into the bathroom and turned the shower on, tugging his shirt over his head as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked at himself in the mirror, taking in the pale face, the fucked up hair, the red eyes, the bruise on his neck, the-

Matteo jolted forward and slapped his hand over the mark on his neck, before moving it so he could gawk at the dark purple and red. Seeing it brought back a rush of memories from the night before, memories that Matteo couldn’t believe he had forgotten, and he stared at himself with wide eyes and let out a quiet, “Fuck.”

***

Matteo debated whether or not he should skip the next band rehearsal. He knew that realisitcally he couldn’t, and that skipping because of a hickey was so dumb that he shouldn’t have even been considering it. He just didn’t want to face his friends and have them ask questions, and even more than that he didn’t want to see David.

He figured that David wasn’t planning on showing up for their usual private session, so he got to band with just enough time to still be considered early, and he found a quiet corner of the theater to set his baritone up in, a row of seats off to the side. He smiled when he saw Jonas come in, but it fell quickly when he saw Jonas notice the hickey on his neck, and the pure joy and confusion that came over his face.

“Dude!” Jonas exclaimed, staring obviously at the mark, “Who gave you that?”

“Someone from the orchestra, I barely remember his name.” Matteo said as casually as he could, having thought of the lie on his way to band. Jonas nodded with a grin and held out his fist, and Matteo rolled his eyes and bumped his against it, grateful that the idea of him and David hooking up was so unbelievable that it wouldn’t even enter Jonas’ mind.

“And what happened with Schreibner?” Jonas was bouncing on his toes, excited for the news and probably expecting a story.

Matteo snorted and rolled his eyes again, before turning back to his half-assembled baritone, and shrugged and said, “We worked it out.”

Fucked it out is more like it, Matteo thought to himself, and he shook his head to rid it of that kind of thinking.

Matteo got settled in his seat, listening to the cacophony around him, and then finally let himself glance around the room to see where David was. He was surprised when he didn’t find him, unable to think of any other time where David showed up late (besides that one time with the sheet music), but the doors suddenly burst open and the conductor walked in, David hot on his heels as always, whispering as they finished up what looked to be an intense conversation.

“Sorry we’re late, we got caught up discussing the sequence of songs for the concert, but I’m glad to see you’re all ready to go.” Rick said as he grabbed his baton, and he waited for David to sit in his usual seat in the clarinet section before counting them into their first song.

Matteo spent the entire rehearsal trying his hardest to not stare at David while doing exactly that, but he was lucky that David never returned his gaze. He seemed to be actively avoiding looking in Matteo’s direction, which made sense considering the deal they had made, but he was still a little let down that David didn’t even look at him. He even found himself disappointed when David didn’t end up conducting that day, and got up and went over to his case once they were dismissed.

He was glaring at his bottle of valve oil, realizing that he was low and was going to need to go get more, when a shadow fell over him. He looked up with a smile, assuming it would be Jonas, but it dropped when he saw David standing there. He had his jacket on, his clarinet case clutched tightly in his hand, and his backpack on his back, and he was staring down at Matteo with something between apathy and irritation on his face.

“Where were you earlier?”

Matteo raised an eyebrow. He tossed the valve oil back in his case before snapping it shut, and stood up and gathered all of his things before turning to face David again and shrugging, letting his eyes drift to the side as he said, “I figured I’d give things a day to chill after...you know.”

“After what?” David asked, with a tilt of his head, and more pointed, forced confusion on his face than Matteo had ever seen. Oh, so that was how it was gonna be.

Matteo smiled back tightly. “You know what, never mind. I’ll be there next time.”

There was a moment where David’s eyes darted down to Matteo’s neck and back up just as quick. His cheeks got a little pink. Matteo smirked.

“Good.” David said simply, and then turned and left. Matteo stared after him, and smirked when he saw David turn again to look at him one more time before almost jogging out of the theater.

Matteo heard a snort from behind him, and he whipped his head around to see Jonas standing there.

“Fuckin’ dick,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the door, “what was he yelling about this time?”

“Nothing important.” Matteo said, shrugging again, readjusting his grip on his baritone case as they started walking towards the door.

“Is it ever with him?” Jonas joked, elbowing Matteo in the arm, and they both laughed as they left the theater, Jonas waving a goodbye to the people who called out to him. Nobody said anything to Matteo, and he sighed as they made their way down the hall.

“Who knows, man,” Jonas started after a second, pausing and then turning to Matteo with a grin, jabbing him again, “maybe Schreibner is just secretly gay and super jealous of whoever gave you that hickey.”

Matteo snorted, before laughing out loud as they got outside. He shook his head and chuckled when Jonas shot him a confused look.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

*****

The next day that Matteo was meant to meet David, he woke up, and the anxious and dark feeling that settled over him immediately made him want to turn over and go back to sleep. It didn’t have anything to do with David, Matteo knew that, had a diagnosis that proved that, but he couldn’t help the dread that filled him at the thought of sitting in a practice room getting scolded over and over again by the same guy who had given him a hickey the week before.

He lit a joint as he left his place. There were tons of off-campus apartments around his school, and he had managed to get a place with Jonas. It was small, but they had all the rooms they needed, and a balcony attached to Matteo’s room for him to smoke on. It was perfect.

Smoking that day was a bad choice, though. He had gone to band high before, and knew that his fingers would be slower and he wouldn’t be able to focus, but it wouldn’t be any different with the fog filling his head. The only difference was that at least he would be out of it enough to not be bothered by the criticizing.

But by the time he got there, he had almost forgotten that before he had band, he had to see David. He knew it would be obvious he was high, and was preparing himself for whatever David would have to say about it. He was also a little late because he needed to take a minute outside of the building to breath and calm himself down. The weed had done the job of dulling everything coming in, but the anxiety twisting up inside of his gut was still pretty active. He took another shaky breath before pushing into the practice room.

“You’re late.” David said sternly, turning in the seat to glare at Matteo as he shuffled in. Matteo barely acknowledged that he had spoken besides a half shrug until he was settled in his chair, with his baritone set up.

“Bad morning,” he said in a quiet voice, before putting his music on the stand and saying, “let’s just start.”

David went easy on him at first, starting off with one of their simpler songs just to make sure Matteo understood one set of measures that the entire band had been messing up. It didn’t require much complex counting or a lot of movement, so Matteo was playing fine. It was a little further into the session when David switched to a different song, one that Matteo could play most days, but not with his fuzzy brain and fingers that started to shake when David pointed at the measure he wanted Matteo to start with,

He barely got through the first measure before David was cutting him off and telling him to start over, and then stopping him again to count out the beats, and then finally stopping him again when Matteo was playing at a tempo so wrong that he didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Okay, stop, stop,” David said, and he flopped back in his chair with a huff, “what the fuck is going on today?”

“Nothing,” Matteo muttered, leaning back in his chair as well, but crossing his arms over his chest, “I told you, bad morning.”

David turned to stare at him, actually looking at him for the first time he had come in, and Matteo saw understanding dawn on his face before a glare took its place.

“Oh, I get it,” David said, shifting back in his chair, “you’re really trying to get kicked out, aren’t you?”

“No, what the fuck?” Matteo said, shaking his head at the idea.

“So you thought coming in stoned was a good way to keep your spot?”

Matteo froze, before asking quietly, “Are you going to narc?”

David rolled his eyes and snorted, and opened his mouth, before closing it again and leaning back more in his chair. He squinted at Matteo for a second, and then asked, “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Matteo asked, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the side because he hadn’t even thought about what could happen if David told anyone that he had showed up high.

“Get high, before coming here? If you aren’t trying to get kicked out? Did you think it was a good idea?” David seemed almost amused by the conversation.

“None of your fucking business.”

“I kind of think it is, though, if you’re going to be showing up here, at a time that I only agreed to meet at because you need help-”

“Shut the fuck up, you have to be here just as much as I do, in case you forgot,” Matteo snapped, feeling himself losing a bit of the control that he was usually very careful to hold onto, “and if you really need to know, my brain is pretty fucked up and coming here and getting yelled at by you doesn’t help. Shockingly, it makes it worse. So if you’re going to run off and tell the department that I’m high, make sure they know it’s because you’re so unbearable to work with that it’s the only way I can get through it.”

David stared at him, and swallowed, his face unreadable. Matteo took a deep breath and looked down at the ground, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pressed his fingers down on the valves of his baritone as he tried to get his breathing back under control after losing his temper, and with the new panic that was filling him. He was done for. There was no way David would let him get away with all of that, and Matteo knew that the department would not be happy to hear that he showed up to a rehearsal high before screaming at everyone’s favorite.

“Okay,” David said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Matteo’s head whipped to him. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that you’re high right now,” David said, but his voice was still soft, and he was looking at Matteo with the closest thing to sympathy on his face that Matteo had seen from him, “but brains can suck. And I get that I can be...blunt.”

Matteo snorted. “Blunt, sure.”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” David said, and he took his phone out of his pocket and started typing, “have you ever listened to the songs that we’re playing?”

“Well, he played new pieces for us in the beginning of the semester. And I hear them when we play.” Matteo said with a shrug. He had never really been the type to listen to band music. He loved it, and loved playing it, but it already took up so much of his time. When he was listening to music on his own he usually chose stuff that he couldn’t tell you the time signature of.

“Yeah, but sitting in a section of a band and listening to the people around you is really different from hearing it like the audience does,” David said, barely looking up, “we still have some time before rehearsal, so let’s just listen to the songs until it’s time to go. I’ll point out some parts that you’re struggling with so you can hear how you fit into everything else.”

“Oh. Okay. That sounds good.” Matteo said, staring at David in shock as he kept tapping on his phone. After a few seconds, Matteo could hear the run that starts the first song in their program. David raised the volume and set his phone on the stand, and then leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips turning up as the clarinet came in, playing the solo that David played every class.

“That person played it better,” Matteo said under his breath, a little uncomfortable with how suddenly accommodating David was being. He was sure light teasing was still safe. He smirked at the eyebrow David raised.

They listened to the next couple of songs, David pausing every now and then to point things out or tell Matteo to listen to the part coming up next. Matteo could see his hands twitching on his lap, tapping along to the beat, and sometimes, seemingly without even noticing, his hand would come up and with just a finger he would conduct to the room. Matteo watched until it seemed like David wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, and he leaned back in his own chair, and closed his eyes.

He was still listening, and he continued tapping his foot to the beat of every song that played. As the last note of the last piece played out in the room, Matteo let out the breath he had taken in and held during the final crescendo. He didn’t realize until then that he hadn’t even put away his baritone, the horn just resting in his lap, his hands moving across the brass and pressing down on the valves of their own accord.

“We should probably head out,” Matteo heard, and he opened his eyes slowly, not expecting to meet David’s as quickly as he did. David was staring at him with another unreadable expression, biting his lips as his eyes darted around Matteo’s face, down to his lips, before he bit his own and jumped up from his chair with a, “yeah, we need to be there in ten. Let’s pack up.”

*****

[insert blah blah whatever but then the conductor is like haha later this week im gonna be gone and david is gonna conduct all of you the whole time and matteo is like “lol k” but it actually ends up being fine?? And matteo plays better and david doesnt have to say anything to him and near the end he actually SMILES at him and matteo is like okay oaky….this is kinda nice i like not fighting with this dude also hes STILL SO FUCKING CUTE]

[flash forward to a couple weeks later they're still kinda getting along like they are still constantly teasing and bantering and arguing but its like,, nice and funny and ,maybe flirty??????]

“Why can’t we talk about it?” Matteo asked, finally, snapping his case shut and turning to stare at David’s suddenly stiff back. He heard David’s case zip up after a second, before he turned around, a tight smile on his face.

“Talk about what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t pleased.

“Stop acting like it’s fucking crazy that two people who don’t like each other got drunk at a party and hooked up,” Matteo said, rolling his eyes at David’s carefully controlled expression, “just because you’re so busy and important doesn’t mean you have to be boring.”

“I’m not boring,” David hissed, but he flopped back down in his seat and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before saying, “I don’t want other people in the band finding out. I have a reputation with them, and I know that...I know this would make things weird.”

“If anything they’ll be jealous of me,” Matteo said with a laugh, “as if you don’t know how many of them eye fuck you while you’re conducting.”

“I’m not...oblivious,” David huffed, and Matteo smirked when he saw his cheeks get red as he looked down at the ground, “and that’s not it.”

Matteo tilted his head, trying to figure out what David meant as he looked up from the ground but off to the side, chewing on his lip. Somewhere in the back of his head a thought started brewing, and once he thought it it was impossible not to clear his throat, and take a breath before asking, “Is it because you think I’m bad? Like, a bad player? Do you not want them knowing you hooked up with me?”

“What? Matteo, no,” David looked at him sincerely for the first time since Matteo had started the conversation, and he reached a hand out, and Matteo jumped when it wrapped gently around his wrist, “I don’t think you’re a bad player, and that...that isn’t the problem. You aren’t the problem with this.”

“Then what is?” Matteo asked, exasperated even though he was the one to ask.

“It’s them,” David said, gesturing vaguely out but Matteo could guess he meant their bandmates, “I love them, but do you know how hard it would be to lead a group of people, including lots of people who have hit on me, if they knew I hooked up with the one member of the band that I-”

“That you what?” Matteo asked too quick, excited to hear the answer.

“That they have seen me get angry in the past- perhaps angrier than necessary.” David said calculating and slow, like admitting it hurt him somewhere deep. Matteo kind of hoped it did. After smiling to himself at that he refocused on the point of the conversation.

“Do you really think I’m planning on telling any of them?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief, “The only other people I talk to besides you are Carlos, Abdi, and Jonas, and I’m not telling them about any of it because I don’t want them giving me shit for any of it.”

“Why do you even want to talk about this?” David asked, looking up and fixing Matteo with a hard stare, “It happened a while ago, and it’s not like we had some romantic fucking moment of reconiliation. We got drunk, we argued, we hooked up, and now we can move on.”

“Well,” Matteo said, licking his lips and shrugging before looking up at David again, knowing that he didn’t really have a reason besides, “I had fun.”

David opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and then opened it again and just went, “Okay?”

“Didn’t you?” Matteo asked, trying for confidence, but coming off as a little desperate with the way he twisted in his seat to make sure he would catch David’s answer.

“I mean…” David started, his cheeks getting darker as his eyes darted around the room, then down to Matteo’s lips and up to his eyes again as he said, “yeah. I did.”

“Yeah, so,” Matteo said, shrugging again, “what’s the big deal if we acknowledge it? It happened, and now we-” he cut himself off, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “and now we see what happens next.”

David’s eyes popped open. Matteo shrugged again before standing and picking his case up, and his bag, and taking a couple of steps to the door. He turned when he heard silence behind him, and saw David frozen in his seat, still staring at him. He stared back for a moment before gesturing out the door and asking, “Are you coming?”

David blinked and nodded, before getting up and gathering his things as well, and he followed Matteo out the door, and they made the short trek to rehearsal.

Matteo felt different sitting down next to his bandmates that day. He was still full of adrenaline, but felt ready to play, quietly humming one of their songs to himself as his fingers pressed down on the associated valves. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to David every few minutes, and he caught David looking back just as Rick walked onto the stage. David coughed and looked away, and Matteo smiled to himself before leaning back in his seat.

He could feel David’s eyes on him throughout the rehearsal, and he was surprised, but it encouraged him to keep sneaking peeks as well. His eyes would wander up from the page even when he was playing just to catch a glimpse of David in his seat, sitting up straight, his strong arms and shoulders holding the clarinet up, his lips wrapped around the mouthpiece-

Matteo was glad he had a lot of rests.

“David! You were supposed to come in there!” Rick yelled suddenly, smacking the score in front of him with his baton, “You’ve never missed that cue before, what’s got you so distracted today?”

The band was silent and they watched David blush as he said, “Sorry, Rick, I’ll focus better. Won’t happen again.”

The conductor just shook his head before telling them to start the piece over, which was followed by angry grumbles and the sound of papers flipping. David looked down at the ground, his cheeks an angry red, and Matteo bit back the smile that threatened to grow on his face.

[david cancels their next private lesson and matteo is like what why and then he gets to band that day and david is conducting again and he basically ignore matteo the entire time and matteo is a lil mad and then after matteo goes up to him and is like “hey wtf why did you cancel on me and then not even correct me when i messed up” and david is like “fuck cause youre super fucknig distracting now and i cant spend an hour alone with you and then get up in front of a group of people and conduct like an idiot cause im too busy thinking about YOU” but hes likes embarassed and actually mad about it and matteo is like oh my god are we going back to the anger i thought we were passed that and davids like well i guess not and matteos like lmao do we need to hook up again cause that seemed like it worked pretty well last time and david is like,, so fucking pissed but is more pissed that hes kind of into that idea so he locks the practice room door and basically they hook up in the practice room because wow what a fantasy that is]

[things are like….weird but chill for a while after that. It seemed like being able to hook up with matteo again made david less distracted by him in a destructive way and even put a bit of a pep in his step?? And matteo notices that hes being a bit nicer to everyone, not just him, and hes actually smiling and complimenting matteo during their private sessions, and even though nothing is explicitly referenced they both know something's going on. Neither of them would call the other a friend though]

[this is after they hook up the third time, which is the first time that isnt completely out of anger but they arent really friends They just happened to run into each other after a concert and were both being a bit flirty and matteo was very boldly like “hey uh come back to my place” because he thinks and david actually does]

“Tell me something about you,” Matteo said, turning his head and propping it up on his arms so he could see David. The light was low in the room, and the plant near his lamp was casting strange shadows on the walls, and on David himself, leaned back against the wall like he was.

“Uh,” David started, his eyes dancing around the room as he tried to think of something, “I started playing the clarinet when I was-”

Matteo reached out and pinched his leg. David twitched, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo hoped that David was okay with the fact that he just kept touching him. It was hard to keep his hands away, and he didn’t know David’s comfort level with non-sexual physical contact. So far he seemed more amused than anything else.

“Tell me something not related to music.” Matteo said, and David snorted at the request.

“Why?” He asked, reaching down to push Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. He bit his lip, wishing that David kept his hand on him longer.

“I just think, you know,” Matteo said, hoping he wasn’t pushing it by sliding his hand onto David’s thigh, the same one he had pinched, “might not be the time to to get into that topic. Just in case.”

I don’t want to start arguing when we just had really great sex and we’re like five minutes away from cuddling if I play my cards right, is what Matteo was thinking, but he figured he got the point across.

David hummed, and nodded, the amused smile still on his face, and tilted his head against the wall and said, “Okay, let me think.”

Matteo stared at him, from where the blanket was draped over his lap, up his bare chest, up the angle of his neck, and still found himself blown away at how beautiful he was. He sighed, glad that David wasn’t watching him swoon.

“Okay I got something,” David said suddenly, turning to Matteo, his eyes bright, “so, growing up we had a cat. My sister got to name it because she was older, and she named the cat Martha Jones, after a Doctor Who character. That cat fucking hated me.”

Matteo laughed, but David didn’t look like he was done, so he prompted him with, “And?”

“Years later, I moved in with my sister, and she wants us to get another cat. So, we go to a shelter, and there’s a cage in the back with a sign on it that says ‘Martha Jones’. Completely different cat, but of course my sister says we have to see her.”

Matteo nodded, enthralled.

“So she goes to ask a worker, and this dude says that that cat was a biter, would hiss, and scratched anyone that went near her unless they had food. Laura insisted, because she’s stubborn, so they brought us into a room and the dude basically tossed the cat in with us and closed the door.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.” Matteo said, shifting closer until he was able to rest his head in David’s lap. He couldn't hold back the need any longer, and he was pleased when David started playing with his hair.

“It wasn’t, she immediately scratched me so bad I started bleeding,” David said with a chuckle, “but she chilled out after a bit, my sister was very persistent. After like 20 minutes she was purring in my lap.” David finished with a proud smile down at Matteo.

If Matteo hadn’t already been crushing that would’ve sealed the deal. It did make something soft settle in his chest, and made his hands a little tingly, and he didn’t think twice before asking, “Can I see a picture?”

David looked thrilled at the question, and he leaned over to grab his phone. Matteo watched, biting back a grin as David scrolled through his pictures before settling on one and handing his phone over, obviously excited for Matteo to see.

The first thing Matteo could make out was a metal music stand, the same basic kind he had in his room for practicing, but it was tilted so the tray was lying flat. He grinned at the cat bed that was resting on top of it, and actually awwwed out loud at the pretty calico, splayed out on her back in a sunbeam. The stand was in front of a large window, and Matteo could see plants around it, and he wondered if it was David’s room.

“Yeah,” David said, looking at the picture again himself before putting his phone down. Matteo felt a tug on his hair, and he looked up to see David staring down at him, and he said, “now you.”

“Me? I don’t have any cats to show off,” Matteo said, wrapping his arms around David’s legs so he could squeeze himself closer.

“No, now you have to tell me something about yourself,” David said, rolling his eyes, but his face was softer than Matteo had ever seen it.

“Oh, shit,” Matteo said, not thinking that David was going to turn the conversation on him, and he hummed for a second before saying the first thing he could think of, “well, I like to sing. When I was younger I used to have a vocal coach and everything, now I mostly just sing whenever my roommate isn’t home.”

It wasn’t something he brought up, or really thought about too often, because ultimately the decision for him to stop the training was out of his hands, and he regretted not being able to go farther with it the same way he could with the baritone.

“Why’d you stop?” David asked, his voice soft, as if he could sense the sadness underlying the statement.

“Well,” Matteo said, shifting back a little bit so he could roll onto his back and say it up to the ceiling, “my mom was the one who got me the lessons, I had already been taking them for the baritone for a year or so. My dad got pissed, because I was already singing in the church choir at that point, and he didn’t want singing to distract from my other music shit. When I got older, uh,” he paused to take a breath, “there was a while where my mom wasn’t living with us, so all the singing lessons stopped. I stopped singing at church, too, and, well. I was better at the baritone anyway.”

He hadn’t noticed that while he had been talking, David had slid down more on the bed until he was resting on his side, and he was staring with a concerned look when Matteo turned to him again,

“They have vocal coaches through the school,” David said, an arm inching across the mattress towards Matteo, “you can sign up for one, if you want. I can get you the email of the person who sets them up, I-”

Matteo laughed at David’s eagerness to help, cutting him off, and rolled back over onto his side, surprised at how close he found himself to David. He felt a hand gently sliding onto his hip, and he bit his lip, his eyes meeting David’s, and he leaned in to kiss him.

David didn’t seem to have expected it. He made a sound, and Matteo worried for a moment that he was going to pull away but instead he was pulled in closer, David’s hand sliding onto the small of his back. He pulled away, and David rolled onto his back, his cheeks pink.

“Thanks, but I don’t need any of that,” Matteo said, and he hesitantly let his head drop onto David’s shoulder, and then let his arm drape across his stomach when David tangled their legs together, “it’s just something I do for fun now.”

“For fun,” David repeated, and then took a breath and asked, “since the topic of music is back on the table, do you want to hear a secret?”

Matteo looked up, amused, and then propped his chin on David’s chest so he could see him better, and he said, “Yes, please.”

“So, I can play almost every wind instrument, right? And brass too, and I can figure out percussion pretty quickly. I can pretty much play anything you’ll find in the average wind ensemble, and then some.”

Matteo rolled his eyes, “That’s not a secret.”

“Yeah, but,” David took another breath, and it seemed like it actually pained him to say, “I can’t play anything with fucking strings.”

“Really?” Matteo asked, leaning up a bit more so he could see the hurt on David’s face, and he grinned, and questioned, “not even guitar? Or ukulele? Even I can play those a bit.”

“Nope,” David sulked, “nothing. One time my friend gave me her violin to try and she said I should be banned from ever touching anything with strings again.”

Matteo covered his mouth with his hands to stop the giggles that were threatening to pour out of him. It wasn’t like there was any actual expectation that David was able to play every single instrument that existed, but the shame he seemed to be feeling about his own inability was hilarious.

“Now you have to tell me something else too,” David said, poking Matteo in the cheek, obviously trying to change the subject,

“You offered that information up freely, I don’t have to tell you shit.” Matteo snarked back. He was still reeling from how strange this new dynamic was, and he wanted to push a bit, see what was allowed.

David scrunched his face up before suddenly grabbing Matteo’s wrist and flipping him onto his back, David hovering over him, looking much too pleased with himself. Once he could tell Matteo wasn’t going to try to move he slid his hand off his wrist and down his chest, onto his hip, and blinked his dark eyes slow and said, “Tell me something.”

“I can speak Italian,” Matteo blurted out immediately, unable to resist a hot, mostly naked boy pinning him to his bed.

“Oh yeah?” David asked with a grin, “Fluently?”

“Yeah,” Matteo said, his eyes wide as he stared up at David, “my dad’s from Italy, we spoke it when I was growing up.”

David hummed, still looking down at Matteo with the same cocky smile on his face, and said, “Say something.”

“No,” Matteo refused, and with a sudden burst of confidence he slid his hand onto the back of David’s head and said, “kiss me.”

David’s eyes widened but he smiled, and did as told. The conversation ended there.

*****

A few days later, a weekend, Matteo walked out onto his balcony. It was midday, and he had already eaten and gotten the work done for his academic classes, so he had an unlit joint dangling between his lips. He stretched, and squinted when the sun shone down on him bright enough to hurt his eyes. He dashed back into his room, intent on finding the sunglasses he knew were somewhere, and he saw something balanced against the wall in the corner that made him pause.

It was a ukulele, his ukulele, one that a random family member had gotten him when he was first accepted to the school. It was a bright blue, and Matteo knew that with most instruments a bright color didn’t ensure the best quality, but he didn’t mind because he barely played the thing. It was good enough for the random time every few months where Matteo would decide to teach himself a new song.

He thought back on his conversation with David. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up, remembering David’s pained face when he revealed his secret, and with a small laugh he grabbed the neck of the ukulele and tucked it under his arm. He found his sunglasses on the floor next to his desk, and slid them onto his face before walking back out the door.

He leaned against the railing of the balcony as he lit the joint, smiling around it, and puffing the smoke out his nose. His room faced out to an empty street, across from a bunch of buildings that he was sure nobody had gone inside for years. He liked how private it felt, for the years he had lived there he had only seen a handful of people out there.

Which made it the perfect place for him to pluck out a few random chords on the ukulele without the judgement he usually faced when playing music. He wasn’t good by any means, but he knew enough chords to play enough songs to keep himself occupied. There were even a few times when he and Jonas had played together out there, usually after a few beers or joints when Matteo was feeling less self conscious about giggling as he badly played along with Jonas actually playing his guitar.

He puffed on the joint, his eyes closing under the sunglasses as he started strumming. His fingers had settled naturally on the frets, playing the chords to the last song he had taught himself, one Jonas had played in his car that got stuck in Matteo’s head. He hummed along, but stopped when the joint almost fell out of his mouth. He took a step back, rolled his shoulders, and started playing again.

The joint did fall out of his mouth, tumbling to the ground at Matteo’s feet, thankfully not setting anything on fire, when he heard from the street below him, “Matteo?”

Oh god, he recognized the voice immediately. He bent down to grab the joint and stubbed it out on the ashtray conveniently right next to him, and took a deep breath before peeking over the railing. And he was right about the voice, as David was standing there, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting up at the balcony.

“Uh, yeah,” Matteo called back, lifting a hand to wave awkwardly before realizing that he was still clutching the ukulele, so he set it down, his fingers tight around the neck, “that’s me.”

“Nice shades.” David said, smirking up as he moved his hand from his eyes. The sun was going behind some clouds so the glare was gone, and Matteo lifted the sunglasses from his eyes with a blush.

“What are you doing over here?” Matteo asked, leaning over the edge so he could get a closer look. David had a bike next to him, and a backpack tight on his back, obviously either coming or going from somewhere.

“Oh, well, actually,” David said, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground like he was embarrassed by the question, “I was just taking a shortcut.”

Matteo snorted, and looked down at his arms folded across the railing. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t expecting to see David obviously, and it didn’t seem like David’s answer matched his reaction to the question. He wanted to know what that was about. After an almost awkward silence, just as David’s hand tightened around the handle of his bike, Matteo quickly asked, “Do you want to come up?”

Something about David made Matteo do that a lot, blurt out things that drifted through his head that he wouldn’t usually say without a second more to think about it. He blushed after he asked, looking down at his arms again, not wanting to watch David uncomfortably decline. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren’t really supposed to like each other.

“Okay.” David said, confidently, and Matteo’s eyes snapped back down. David was looking up at him with his head tilted, a smile on his face like Matteo’s question was a challenge.

“Oh,” Matteo responded, needing to take a minute to realize that David was actually agreeing, “um, go around the front and I’ll buzz you in?”

David nodded, and hopped on his bike and disappeared around the corner of the building. Matteo let out a breath and rushed into his room, looking around with wide eyes to see what he needed to quickly kick under his bed and shove in his closet. He managed to tidy his room up enough to not be embarrassed by the time the buzzer went off, and Matteo ran to it, not even knowing if Jonas was home but desperately hoping he wasn’t.

He pulled the door open, biting his lip when David came into view, smiling slightly in that cocky way he did. He felt like he would swallow his tongue if he spoke out loud so he waved David into the flat, blushing at the chuckle David let out as he did so, and David bowed his head as he walked in, stepping past Matteo and stopping in the entrance to the main part of the flat.

“We should go chill on your balcony,” David said, looking around like he had never been there before. To be fair, the only time David had been there they were stumbling through the dark to Matteo’s room trying to keep their lips connected, so he didn’t blame him for taking the time to look around in the daylight.

Matteo nodded, and then realizing he hadn’t actually said anything since David came up, cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, sure.”

He led an amused David through his room, pointedly avoiding looking at his bed, his face flushing although he kept his eyes trained forward. David didn’t say anything, or even show in any way that he remembered the fact that just days ago they had been wrapped up in each other in that very same bed, kissing and touching and a lot else. Matteo didn’t know how he was so nonchalant about it when the sight of the bed instantly brought the taste of David’s lips to Matteo’s head, the feeling of his hands on him, Matteo’s hands in his hair. He shook his head and pulled the door to the balcony open harder than he meant to.

He was glad that they had chairs set out on the balcony, ones they had found outside some other building when they first moved in. They didn’t match but they were surprisingly comfortable and most importantly, not broken. Matteo only sat after David had picked a chair, and looked up at him, an amused smile still on his face.

“I should tell you that I lied, earlier.” David said suddenly, after Matteo sat. He looked up, confused, at David’s smile.

“Lied about what?”

“I wasn’t really taking a shortcut.”

Matteo raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

David nodded, and bent down, digging around in the backpack at his feet. Matteo settled back in his seat to watch until David sprang back up with a book in his hand.

“Don’t tell anyone,” David started, flipping to a page near the end, “but I might sometimes sneak into buildings in a way that isn’t totally...legal.”

Matteo smiled at that, tilting his head, and asked, “For any particular reason, or do you just like the thrill?”

David smiled back, not cocky, and said, “It is pretty thrilling, especially when you get chased out by security guards. But I really do it for this.”

His cheeks got a little rosy when he handed the book over to Matteo, and Matteo’s jaw dropped when he looked down at the page. He was expecting words, but instead there was a sketch done in black pencil, and it took Matteo a minute to piece together what it was.

[idk dude figure out what he drew i guess lmao i dont care enough to try to write this part rn]

“These are… really good,” Matteo said, flipping through the pages. He didn’t really know if David wanted him to but he didn’t try to stop him, so Matteo let his eyes wander over the pages.

“Yeah, well,” David said, sounding a little sheepish, “it’s a hobby, I guess.”

Matteo was quiet as he turned page after page, finding sketches of more abandoned buildings, random people, different plants. A cat popped up a few times, which made Matteo smile, along with the doodles of instruments and staff lines half filled with notes. He didn’t realize how long he had been absorbed in the book until he noticed he was on the second to last page. He stared at the drawing that seemed somewhat familiar, a barely-started portrait, a head with short swooping hair, a button nose, a small smile-

“Okay, um,” David said quickly, his hand darting out to grab at the book, “yeah, a lot of those last ones aren’t finished. Not really that interesting.”

“I thought they were,” Matteo muttered, a little annoyed at being interrupted. He had been enjoying himself.

“I, uh,” David started as he shoved the book back into his bag, “don’t usually show that to people.”

Matteo tilted his head. He had never seen David look less sure of himself. He leaned back in the chair, biting his lip, his eyes avoiding Matteo’s. He seemed almost… shy? Timid? Words that Matteo would never associate with David.

“Well, you should,” Matteo said after a moment of silence, “it sucks that you’re amazing at that too.”

That got a bit of a chuckle, and Matteo grinned at David until their eyes met. There was a beat, and then David looked away again.

“I don’t know,” David said, his cheeks getting pink again, “that’s something I really only do when I need to escape. I just… go somewhere, and draw whatever I can find. I don’t really show people because I’m not doing it for anyone else. Like… you know.”

Matteo had a million questions about what he meant by that, but David had crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side after saying it, his jaw set. He let out a long exhale through his nose, and Matteo got the hint that he didn’t want to further dissect that statement.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, quiet, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation back around. He could tell David maybe hadn’t meant to say as much as he did, maybe was a little embarrassed at revealing something so personal. Showing off a picture of his cat a week or so prior was nothing compared to talking about something that he was actively keeping to himself. His escape, from what Matteo knew was a very stressful and hectic life.

He thought for a moment, his eyes darting around the balcony to find something to change the topic, to stop David from looking so uncomfortable. His eyes landed on his ukulele. He paused there, the thought alone making his heart race and something nervous twist up in his stomach, but before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed it, letting it settle in his arms the way it always did. David didn’t look over until Matteo accidentally twanged one of the strings.

“Um,” he said, when David’s eyes widened and a grin started growing over his face, “I’ll trade you.”

The grin stopped, David tilted his head in confusion and asked, “You’ll trade me what?”

“You told me about what you do that’s just for you, that you don’t usually share with other people,” Matteo strummed, quickly adjusting a couple of the tuning pegs until the sound was just right, “only fair that I do the same.”

“I didn’t think that playing the ukulele was that important to you.”  David said, uncrossing his arms, relaxing back into his chair a bit. The tension was gone from his face, and his lips were curved up at the sides.

“It’s not,” Matteo said with a smirk that looked more confident than he felt, and he took a deep breath before putting his fingers on the frets.

He started strumming the song he had been playing when David showed up, looking down at his hands because he knew he would need to focus on the chords and not on David looking at him. He took another deep breath, tried not to think about it, and started singing.

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy….”

Matteo hadn’t considered the lyrics before singing them, just picking a song that was fresh in his head so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by messing up, not that David would have been shocked by that. It was a simple song, pretty, one that he didn’t have to think too hard about. But as he sang it, as the lyrics came out of his mouth less timid with every word, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He got to the chorus, and closed his eyes.

“Lemon Boy and me started to get along, together,” he sang, ignoring the heat he could feel spreading across his cheeks, “I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Matteo stumbled on a chord, managed to fix it in a second but he knew David heard it. He continued, though. David had reminded him of that often, not to stop when he made a mistake.

“It’s actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him...”

He sang the next verse, getting a little sloppy with the chords as he failed to not think about the words he was singing. He got through it, got halfway through the next chorus, and was suddenly cut off when loud classical music started playing from David’s bag. His hands stilled, and he opened his eyes.

It was as if David hadn’t even noticed he stopped, or the sound coming from somewhere near his feet. His eyes were wide, shiny and dark, staring into Matteo’s, leaning forward in his chair like he didn’t want to miss a single word, a single strum of Matteo’s fingers over the strings. His head was tilted, lips parted just enough that a long shaky breath could escape, his hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair. He looked awed by Matteo’s mediocre performance.

David’s gaze snapped down to his bag when the classical music started again, and he whispered an, “Oh, shit,” as he dug through it. He pulled his phone out and Matteo expected him to put it to his ear, assuming the music was a ringtone, but instead he could see it was an alarm that David turned off with a slide of his finger across the screen.

“I was supposed to be home a while ago, I need to, uh,” David cut himself off as he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket and zipping his bag closed before swinging it onto his back, “I have to do my shot today.”

“Oh,” Matteo responded, not understanding what David meant. He wasn’t able to say anything else, like singing had taken the rest of his voice for the day.

“You know, testosterone?” David stuttered out, nervous, as if Matteo didn’t already know he was trans.

“Oh,” Matteo said again, almost smacking himself in the face when he blurted out, “have fun?”

That made David pause, his franticness to leave slowing as a smile grew over his face. He bit his lip, and then to Matteo’s shock, let out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, winking. That action alone was enough to have Matteo collapsing back into his chair. David turned towards the door, put one foot back into the apartment, and then stopped before saying, “oh, and Matteo?”

“Yes?” Matteo said, leaning forward again, greedy to hear whatever David was about to say.

“One day I’ll show people my art. Have an exhibit at a museum, maybe.” he said, turning his head so he could look back at Matteo with a soft smile on his face, “but only if I can hire you to sing there.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped, his face turning bright red as David walked through the door. He flopped back in his chair, waited until he could hear the clicks of his door opening and then closing, and let out the breath he had been holding for who knows how long.

#oi this was a big one #i spent so much time on it and i hope yall like it even though its not finished #davenzi

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 21)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3841 Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Here we are... the aftermath.. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 20 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Sunlight streams down, shining in between gaps of the branches of the large tree you’ve nestled under, keeping cool under the shade as you turn the page of your book. The crisp spine cracks as you adjust your grip, taking a break to sip an iced coffee. You rest it carefully beside you, in the groove of the large root breaking up from the surface.

Central Park is active for a late morning, the chatter of people passing by, the carefree laughter of children playing in the distance. You wish you were as carefree as them. The book you’re attempting to distract yourself with is not working but still you force it, needing anything to take your mind off the events of the past weekend.

Normally you would be at work but an early email from Tony Stark alerted you to him being called away for the day and generously granting you a paid day off to “enjoy the weather.” You wish you could have appreciated it, having the chance to sleep in but doing so would mean you might run into Bucky and you couldn’t have that happen.

Instead you left for work as you normally would, stuffing a tote bag with a large book and a blanket. You treated yourself to breakfast, stretching the time out as much as you could before grabbing an iced coffee and finding a large tree to plant yourself under. You check your phone for the time, making sure you wouldn’t be late for your internship but no, you weren’t; in fact time was moving so slow you thought you gained an extra hour.

It isn’t fair that Tony Stark was so generous. You’d rather be working and had you known in advance you could have possibly rearranged your schedule with Elena but you weren’t the only intern so you had to wait.

And wait...

and…

wait.

A text from Wanda distracted you for a moment, though it really didn’t. Asking how you are only reminds you that you aren’t okay. You spent Sunday night crying your eyes out in her arms, wondering why you were so stupid to think Bucky could actually like you. You weren’t special, you were just a stupid girl who thought she could actually change someone; that somehow Bucky would veer from the path he’s always been on just for you!

What a joke. You cringe when you think about how pathetic you are. It was just sex, nothing more. Wanda was right, he’s probably wanted to fuck you from the start. The Music Man was an apt nickname for the man that played you like an instrument, knowing the perfect keys to hit, the chords you thought were opening your heart but really opened your legs.

Friendship never mattered to Bucky, no– James, the man who hid himself from the start, a dollar store recorder masking himself as a flute, whose only goal was to get laid.  

Coming home that night your eyes were so swollen you could barely see. You huffed up the stairs not wanting Bucky to hear the ding of the elevator as it opened on your floor. You even separated the key to your apartment so the jingling didn’t alert him of your arrival home. The last thing you wanted to do was see him.

You turned your phone off long ago, not wanting to even see Bucky’s name flash on the screen let alone hear any of his excuses. He probably wanted to smooth things over just enough to keep things peaceful between you, hoping that if you were dumb enough you would forgive him and fall in line with the rotation of other women he fucks.

Well you weren’t going to be like any of them. Desperate women, running over the moment Bucky texts before they lose their chance. Throwing themselves at him, hoping he’ll change their mind and love them just like you thought he could love you. But there is no room for love in Bucky’s cruel black heart.  

The following day at work you tried to hide your emotions. With makeup you camouflaged the swelling and painted on a smile but you couldn’t hide the truth from Steve. He sat with you over a tear filled lunch as you told him everything, making him swear to you that he would not talk to Bucky.

There may have been some guilt tripping involved reminding him how you wanted to confront Lillian after she cheated on him but you didn’t because Steve asked and trusted you not to. He suggested speaking to Bucky. “It doesn’t mean you have to forgive him.” Steve’s voice echoes in your head. “He’s your neighbor, you’re going to see him eventually. Wouldn’t it be better to work this out?” Steve might have a point but you’re not interested in hearing it right now.

He invited you to stay for dinner, and that night he and Peggy helped keep you distracted for a few hours. Only they and Wanda knew what happened and you wanted to keep it that way, not wanting to cause friction within the group. Thankfully Sam was working an overnight shift on Sunday because had he been there things would have escalated.

Sam is persistent and though he always means well you knew he would have tried to patch things up between you and Bucky on the spot. Knowing how you are you would probably have lost two friends that day, lashing out at their “help” so thankfully it hadn’t come to that.

You’re not even sure why you’re keeping this a secret. For all you know Bucky may have blabbed to everyone about what happened, and if he didn’t yet he probably would soon enough. For now, you decide not to share it with anyone else, burying what happened into the back of your mind, sealed by the iron door that should have been there to protect your heart.

The book holds your attention by gossamer strings as you reread the same lines over and over, lifting your gaze up to stare comfortably at the brightness of the world around you; bright green grass with pops of yellow and white dandelions sticking up, a cloudless sky that in no way reminds you of someone’s eyes. Looks like it’s time to go back to reading.

You ignore the sound of a guy yelling– nothing unusual especially for New York, but as the sound of his voice grew closer you decided to look up. Your eyes widened with shock as it was just in time to see what he was yelling about. It was too late to move so you braced yourself, the book dropping as a giant brown pitbull jumped into your lap, its bright pink tongue wildly licking your cheek.

“Get back here!” the owner huffed, finally catching up to the dog, grabbing the leash he had accidentally dropped. “Groot! I said get back here.”

He pulled the playful dog off you, sternly telling him to sit. “Groot, sit down, I mean it.” The dog stared back at his owner, tilting his head with innocence. The man rolled his eyes quickly before kneeling in front of you. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry about that.”

His eyes were as green as a picture perfect meadow as he stared back at you, with soft pink lips that turned down into a worrisome frown. He was handsome, sun kissed skin and golden brown hair, with the hint of dark stubble peppering his sharp jaw.

“I’m okay.” You choked on your words, finding it hard to stop the smile that was pulling at your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I know he looks intimidating but he’s a sweetheart, I promise.” The man smiled, looking back at his dog, panting with its mouth open. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

Your name floated from your lips to his ears and Peter smiled, a boyish grin that flashed pearly white teeth. “And you’ve already met, but this is Groot.”

The sound of his name made the dog perk up and rush forward towards you. Peter caught him in time before he could assault your face with his tongue again but he couldn’t stop Groot from spilling your coffee.

“Aww Groot! Come on buddy!” Peter whined.

“It’s okay,” you laughed, picking up the overturned container. “He wanted to say hello again.”

You stuck your palm out low so Groot could easily sniff it and quickly his jaw fell open with a grin, his wide tongue soaking your hand as he lapped at it. He nudged your hand with his large nose asking to be pet and you happily complied, scratching under his chin as his tail wagged back and forth.

Groot nuzzled into your lap, his heavy body rolling onto you in a plea to be pet more. Peter huffed in frustration, looking to pull his dog off you but the smile you gave him said you didn’t mind. Both hands worked on making Groot happy, scratching his ears and rubbing his chest. Peter joined in too, rubbing Groot’s belly and softly slapping his side. Your fingertips touched briefly, electric tingles racing up your arm.

Peter cleared his throat of the nervous lump that settled there, tugging gently on Groot’s leash to get off you. When he saw you began to get up Peter offered his hand. There was little hesitation when you took it, feeling his slightly calloused palms against yours. You looked away from him when you were standing, brushing off some dirt from your thighs.

“I’m sorry, again,” Peter grimaced, your clothes were dirty thanks to Groot’s dirty paws. “I feel terrible, can I buy you a cup of coffee… to make up for what Groot spilled?”

Maybe it was Peter’s big doe eyes anxiously awaiting your answer or Groot’s beaming smile but you said yes, picking up your things and walking with them a few blocks to an outdoor cafe. On the way you learned that Peter was a firefighter and looking at him you didn’t doubt it. He was tall (taller than Bucky), with a broad frame (bigger than Bucky) and large bulging biceps (also bigger than Bucky’s, though his came close).

You shake away thoughts of Bucky because you do not want to think about him. And why should you have to? Not when a very cute firefighter with an even cuter dog was pulling out the chair for you to sit down as you got to know each other.

He grew up in Missouri, raised by his mom up until she died from cancer. He was eight at the time but the slight crack in his voice he tried to clear away as he talked about her let you know how much she still meant to him.

“She called me her little star lord ‘cause all I talked about was that one day I was gonna be a space pilot.”

“So how’d you go from space to fighting fires?” you asked, smiling at him as you leaned in closer on the table.

The wait for an answer was interrupted by the server bringing your orders, another iced coffee for you, coffee with a shot of espresso for Peter and a big cup of whipped cream for Groot. Peter held the cup in his hand as Groot swiftly lapped away at his sweet treat.

“There was a fire at my grandparent’s house. I was about fifteen, sixteen at the time. I helped them get out and ran back to grab my mom’s old walkman. It’s all I had left of her.”

Peter paused, almost anticipating a comment about how stupid it was to do that but you were quiet, listening without judgment and understanding. He lifted his lips with relief and explained that after that happened he knew what he wanted to do, hoping he could save people and the homes that hold things dear to them.

“Plus my grades could probably never get me through the door at NASA,” he joked.

You and Peter spoke for the next hour, telling him about your jobs and interests. He was really easy to talk to, with no lulls or awkward silence in your conversation, and he made you laugh a lot which is something you sorely missed these past few days.

When it was nearing time to leave for work you exchanged numbers, giving Groot an enthusiastic petting and letting yourself be enveloped by the warmth of Peter’s arms for a big hug goodbye.

You were surprised to find yourself thoroughly distracted the rest of the day, with Peter in the forefront of your mind, your heart swelling with joy as you read a message he had sent while you were working.

Peter: Hey Y/N it was really great to meet you. I have another day off before my shift and was hoping we could talk again… maybe even see each other. It’s for Groot’s sake really.. I think he likes you.. 😉

A smile reached your ears and you were quick to respond. Yes, you think you liked Groot as well…

Messages exchanged back and forth on your way home and throughout the dinner you were preparing yourself. Your phone buzzed with Peter calling, preferring to talk as Groot decided to lie on top of him like a log, and it was hard to reach around him and type. You spoke until well past midnight and for the first night that week you fell asleep with ease.

Peter stayed in touch throughout the next day and asked you out to dinner. It was last minute but you didn’t mind, the less time you spent at home the better. You decided to meet at a casual spot for burgers. The place was small with limited seating but you managed to grab a table on the end of a long row so you didn’t feel completely claustrophobic.

You didn’t mind sitting close to Peter, apologizing when your knee kept banging into his under the table, getting to see his big smile up close as he told you not to worry about it. He looked great, removing a sanguine red leather jacket for a form fitting dark t-shirt, smelled even better, like almond blossoms in the rain.

Peter was scheduled to work tomorrow, a typical 24 hour shift so he ordered his burger without fries not wanting to feel weighed down by the extra calories. The golden steaming potatoes tempted him from your plate and even though you offered him to have some he declined.

“I feel bad since you’re sticking with water,” you remarked, as your drinks arrived, his water with lemon looking a little boring compared to the iced cold beer that was brought for you.

“Don’t, it’s fine,” he said. Leaning closer the words fell from his lips in a low purr, “Besides I can always taste it from your lips.”

Fire erupted on your cheeks and luckily you were with the perfect person to extinguish the flame. You saved making out with Peter until after you left the restaurant; standing outside of your building with your hands scratching through his hair as his tongue caressed yours.

His lips pulled away with your soft moan still lingering on them, and as much as he wanted to continue this Peter knew he had to get some sleep as did you. Without any haste your hands let go of each other’s, fingertips still gently grazing as you pointed your hips towards the front door. Before you lost contact Peter grabbed your waist to pull you in for another kiss, because a few more wouldn’t hurt.

The elevator carried you upstairs even though it felt like you were floating and as you reached your door the bubble you were in burst immediately as Bucky’s door creaked open. You couldn’t open your door fast enough so you were stuck having to hear him call your name, a desperate sounding cry that reeked of insincerity.

“Can we talk?” he begged.

Through a narrow eyed glance you turned to face him, lips pursed tightly as you looked him up and down. Bare feet stuck out from the bottom of dirty sweatpants, his t-shirt was worn and wrinkled, and if you were being honest he didn’t smell great. Bucky’s hair was an unkempt mess with strands sticking up wildly in all directions and a thick shadow of stubble on his face.

For a moment your heart broke for Bucky until you remembered it already broke because of him. Ice set into your veins again as you stiffly replied, “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”

The vibration of your phone in hand rescued you from a conversation you didn’t want to have in the first place. Seeing it was Peter your face softened with a smile that was once reserved for Bucky.

“I gotta take this,” you said, opening your door without giving Bucky the chance to say anything else.

His shoulders slumped, sighing defeatedly as Bucky trudged back into his apartment. It didn’t help that he could hear you through the wall, your voice light and bubbly. He crawled back into bed, past the instruments left untouched for days because the thought of creating something was hopeless; a daunting task that required Bucky to give part of himself but there was nothing to give.

Part of his soul died the day you walked away from him, not letting Bucky explain the horrible coincidence of running into a person he never intended going on a date with in the first place. You ignored his calls, didn’t answer his texts and probably rappelled up the side of the building into your apartment to avoid running into him.

If you did answer, Bucky would have told you the truth, that he did make that date long ago, that he made a lot of dates he cancelled because no one was you. He would have told you how he stopped setting up dates, that he cancelled all the ones he remembered before deleting his dating app, how it had been almost two months since he had sex and how none of that mattered because all he wanted was to give you his heart.

Everything he said over the weekend was true and he hates the fact that you won’t give him a goddamn second to prove how much he means it. Bucky rolls over, pulling the blankets above his head. He clutches a pillow close to him, a poor comparison to the way your body fit perfectly against his, shutting his eyes tight as he hopes sleep will come for him.

Friday passes slowly, the hand of every hour moving at a half-dead snail’s pace. Bucky waits to hear you coming home, having missed the opportunity to speak to you in the morning because as the sun was rising in the sky his eyelids were finally shutting. He anxiously waits for the ding of the elevator, rushing to his door to open it ajar.

His heart races as he hears the sound of keys jingling closer, pulling his door open with all his strength he’s surprised he hasn’t ripped the hinges off. But instead of seeing you approach Bucky shrinks, deflated and embarrassed to have Shuri, the teenager that lives at the end of the hall with her family, see him looking disheveled. He smiled, giving a half wave, swearing he could hear her call him a “broken white boy” under her breath. He shut the door only to wait again.

When Bucky did finally hear you come in it was late and he was a second too late, opening his door as you shut yours. He sent a text hoping you would respond to no avail. He heard you through the wall, the sound of your closet opening, the creak of the mattress as you get in bed. Bucky’s palm presses against the cold wall. It hurts knowing how close you are and yet you’ve never been further apart.

It’s a beautiful Saturday but Bucky can’t enjoy it. He paces the hallway in front of the elevator and stairwell; he is not going to miss your arrival. It’s nearing the time you normally get home from Metro-General and he prays to anyone listening that you aren’t making any stops along the way.

He needs this. He’s desperate to tell you what happened, so you could see the truth flow from his lips, the tears fall from his eyes as he begs for forgiveness of the misunderstanding.

The elevator soon grants his wish as the doors open revealing you, like the lustrous pearl of an oyster and Bucky can’t help but smile. You on the other hand were not expecting to see him. Bucky was in the same clothes, his hair a little greasier, with stubble that had grown in more. The brighter lighting of the hallway did him no favors, accentuating the deep purple bags that settled under his eyes.

He starts off right away, begging for a moment to hear him out but you strode past him, ignoring the way Bucky ran up beside you like a lost puppy looking for a home. Realizing you weren’t going to stop Bucky ran ahead, blocking your door with his body as he implored you to listen.

“No!” you barked sternly. “Get out of the way Bucky.”

He didn’t move and both of your frustrations grew. “You need to listen to me Y/N, you’ve got– ”

“Don't tell me what I need to do Bucky. You need to get out of the way.”

Not only did Bucky not move but he tried to grab your hand. You snapped it away, gritting through your teeth about how serious you were. You didn’t want to raise your voice and cause a scene with your neighbors if you didn’t have to.

“I just want to talk.” His voice was tight and Bucky fought hard to stop the tears from burning their way to his eyes.

“Well I don’t want to. Move. I have a date to get ready for.”

You stood firm, wondering if you would have to resort to having Clint come down and make Bucky leave, or worse, Natasha, but Bucky stepped aside, letting you enter your apartment without another word.

The slamming of the door masked the sound of the bubbled cry he let out, tears streaking down his cheeks. Hours later he heard a voice at your door, devastated to know you were telling the truth about your date, and dying inside at the sound of lips smacking together. He gave it a moment and opened his door quietly to see you walk hand in hand with some guy down the hall.

Bucky goes back inside, back to the safety of his bed, where he swallows Benadryl and soaks his pillow with tears as he falls asleep.

He dreams of better times, of your smile, of your touch, of all the days you spent together because in his dreams is the only place he’ll have those again.

He’s lost you.

PART 22

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

[ask-2p-hetaliaaa]

Hey there again! I really like your scenarios! and i have a request

What about the countries with an introverted, musician/ mussically cultured s/o?

2ps with an introverted musician s/o!

Throwing a 1p in here real quick because Roderich would be all over you just saying

Allen: Surprisingly, he loves dating introverts as much as extroverts! He pleas to combine something 'epic' with something 'boring' (his words not mine), such as breaking into a vinyl record shop at night. pure of heart, dumb of ass, as they say.

Matt: Plays campfire songs with his guitar for you, hoping he impresses you. Acts lowkey, but he thinks you're so awesome. Name a Canadian artist other than Justin Bieber and he'll be so happy.

Francois: "Can you play Traditionell Musette?" (if you actually do it he'll cry)

Oliver: He thinks you're so cool!! England has a history very rooted in music, so he'd love to talk with you about it! You may even be able to get him back into his pastel punk phase from the 80s 😳Ambient and classical music also calm him down when he's anxious

Viktor: I mean he's really the same so

Xiao: "DO YOU KNOW YI JIAN MEI?" He's actually a really good singer, and is totally down for singing with you!

Luciano: "As long as you don't bass boost everything, I'm fine." He used to live with Roland and has pseudo trauma towards rock music because of that gremlin of a man

Flavio: "This will be great for my brand! How fast can we produce a hit single under my name? It needs to be flashy and extravagant. Don't worry, you can stay on the sidelines where no one can see you in the music video shoot."

Lutz: German music is SO GOOD, bro, he's going to introduce you to Von Wegen Lisbeth, Hund am Strand, and Dota Kehr IMMEDIATELY

Kuro: Begs you to teach him western songs because he can't stand hearing another beat of j-pop

Gillen: Wants you to teach him flute, because asking Gilbert for help was useless; they both ended up crying over Fritz whenever they tried to practice.

Roland: Kind of a douche at first because he thinks he's high and mighty in his guitar skills, but he swallows his pride and asks you to teach him piano (to fuck with Roderich OF COURSE)

Andres: Shyly wants to tango and slow dance with you to different songs <3

Egil: "That's adorable! What's your favorite song? Or songs?" He lets you open up and talk for hours about your skills and interests on the musical subject.

Loki: Takes your hand and leads you to the music room of the Nordic mansion. Pianos, percussion, brass, strings, you name it! They even have instruments from ANCIENT times stored in there.

Magnus: Is mainly interested in you working with the ancient aforementioned instruments. Will help you restore them and then teach you how they were played

Bernard: Is currently banging on Roderich's door boasting about how you're a better musician than him. Their accents arguing makes it funnier.

"Can you sing ABBA?"

Thurston: Doesn't think much of it, just sees it as your interest. Will secretly listen to your singing/playing from out of sight; just leans against the wall and smiles.

Hermes: "Have you ever heard of bardcore?" Then probably spouts on about how "music brings people's souls together.." "music is the key to happiness..."

Franciszek: Hums songs you recommend him as he goes about his day

Anastasia: Listens to everything you have to say about your interest in music! She will do ballroom dances to songs you play

Katya: Asks you to make her a bunch of playlists, of course

Egor: "Can you make EDM?"

Raimonds: He knows how to play the bells, and would be interested in being taught the drums

Leonas: He actually sings country-type music in his free time! He'll get you guys a gig at a honky tonk and do a duet with you for the crowd!

Romeo: Tiktok dances, i'm so sorry

#2p hetalia #2ptalia #ask 2p hetalia #asks #textposts #headcanons #all of them

[flameo-hotman]

Zuko Adoption Menu #31

@zukoscalzones selected adoption #31, Ty Lee’s family adopts Zuko. This one was way too much fun for me to write and I high key want to turn it into a full length fic.

The news that the crown prince had vanished the same night as Lady Ursa broke not long after Ty Lee had talked her mom and dad into adopting a boy off the streets.

She had known exactly who the boy who became her brother was.

But maybe it was for the better that the new Fire Lord didn’t know who Ty Ken actually was. Besides Zuko seemed happier as Ty Ken than he had been as Zuko. Though it would be two years before he would tell her why he hadn’t gone wherever the Lady Ursa had gone.

It happened when she was braiding a pastel grey ribbon into his hair.

“I found her when she was talking with the Mother of Faces… She chose to forget about me. That’s why I came back to the Caldara.”

It was sudden and blunt, but Ty Lee kept braiding, asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Was Ty Ken’s answer.

Ty Lee didn’t need to ask who her brother was talking about. Azula didn’t like talking about Lady Ursa either, but like most people, Azula had assumed that Ursa had likely died. She didn’t know what to think about this information.

Once she had finished with Ty Ken’s hair, the two of them got up to head on over to the vanity that they shared with their sisters and started on their makeup.

“You always do your makeup all gloomy like Mai’s,” Ty Lee teased her brother, but he just shrugged and answered, “It goes better with my outfit…”

But he seemed to pause for a moment and look at himself in the mirror for a few moments, and suddenly grabbed the pot of red eye shadow.

She smiled at her brother and helped him blend out the red smokey eye he had decided on, before handing over the eyeliner so he could do his winged eyeliner. It was a good look and really made his eyes look nice.

“Don’t say it.”

“I won’t.”

Just then Ty Lao came rushing in and plopped down in the seat next to Ty Ken grumbling, “Ty Woo said my mascara was smudged. Is any of the waterproof stuff left?”

“Yeah,” Ty Ken answered, before handing over the mascara he had just used on his own lashes to their sister.

She looked relieved, as she excepted it and started to fix it, asking, “So, are the two of you ready for the show we are putting on for the Princess?”

“Totally, I showed Azula the acrobatic routine I am planning was and she liked it,” Ty Lee answered, as she made a note that they would need to get more mascara. “I think she is going to love your dance routine you have planned.”

“Thank you! Ty Woo saw it and she-” Ty Lao started, before Ty Woo popped her head in and finished, “It looked like something that a noseless shirshu would come up with.”

“I think it is nice,” Ty Ken snapped back, accepting the mascara back once Ty Lao was done with it, and went back to work on his lashes.

Ty Woo groaned, “Make your lashes any longer and you’ll cut them off with your swords, Ty Ken.”

“At least my special skill is good enough to perform, Ty Woo.”

Their sister only answered by rolling her eyes and retorting, “At least I’m not adopted, Sword Boy.”

“Love you to, Jerk,” Ty Ken answered, as he tossed the mascara off to the side.

And with that Ty Woo gave him a soft smile before she vanished from the room.

Ty Ken looked at himself in the mirror for a moment like he was unsure of something.

And well Ty Lee understood because Ty Ken hadn’t been to the palace since he was still Zuko. His nervous aura was completely understandable. He was eleven when he left that life behind him, and some soldiers were still assigned to investigating his disappearance. There was a lot that could go wrong.

And they hadn’t even told their parents who Ty Ken actually was.

But Ty Ken didn’t look much like Zuko had, so it wasn’t like anyone but Mai and Azula would recognize him. And that was only because those two actually knew the truth about Ty Ken.

It didn’t take very long for them to finish getting ready for Azula’s birthday, and then they were headed to the palace with the rest of their family.

“You’ll be fine,” Ty Lum assured him, as she entered the makeup room and kissed the top of his head. “You are amazing with swords and please tell me there is some mascara left over for me.”

“The backups are in the locked case that I definitely don’t know how to pick the lock of, Ty Lum,” He answered producing another mascara out of said case, before handing it to her and giving her a smile.

“I don’t know why you use so much mascara. If I had eyebrows like yours I would try to draw more attention to them,” She giggled as she accepted the mascara and sat down next to Ty Lee.

Ty Lao turned to her and asked, “So did you figure out how to turn origami into something you can do as a performance?”

“Really really big paper.”

“Smart.”

“Thank you.”

Ty Lat peaked her head in and announced, “We need to get going so Ty Ken time to put the mascara down.”

“I just finished my lashes, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

His sisters giggled, as he slipped one of the spare mascara’s into his pocket, but he ignored them, as he got up and left to go grab his dao swords.

He seemed happier living with them than he had been living in the palace.

Ty Lee watched her brother leave, a soft smile on her face.

“It is kind of sad that Ty Lat can’t do her swim program for the Royal Family,” Ty Lao sighed as she put the mascaras back into the lockbox and locked it.

Ty Lee nodded and followed her sisters out of the room.

 Ty Le and her brother ended up in the carriage with Ty Lin and Ty Liu, who were going over their sheet music for the event. They didn’t bother to try and talk to them, since the last few times they had when those two were pouring over their music they snapped at them and hid Ty Ken’s mascara.

And well he may have burned down part of their private forset because of that.

Normally though they got along with Ty Ken and he would play the tsungi horn with them.

Once they got there they made their way to backstage of the stage that had been set up for their performances.

Ty Liu checked over her harp, while Ty Lin got her flute out of its case, and the rest of them got set up for their numbers.

Ty Woo and Ty Lat introduced themselves to their audience, before welcoming Ty Lum onto the stage so she could open the show with her massive origami crown of fire, while Ty Liu and Ty Lin started the first song of the night.

Ty Lao was up next with her dancing, and Ty Lee followed replacing her as the music changed tempo to match with her kart wheels and summersaults.

Azula seemed pleased by the show even if the Fire Lord seemed to not be paying any attention, instead choosing to say something to General Iroh. Whatever he’d said seemed to upset the man, as Iroh grimaced and made the point of not looking at his brother.

The music took a sudden dramatic turn, and Ty Lee shot herself up into the rafters, as a plum of fire unfolded beneath her like a blooming lotus blossom, and there stood Ty Ken with his swords.

She watched him twist and slice, ribbons of fire bursting from his swords.

Watching him with his swords was like watching Ty Lao dance. The music swelling with his movements, as he burned his way across the stage like he was a shadow sending up a prayer to Agni.

He finished his routine using his swords to send a burning dragon shooting up into the sky.

And then all was quiet.

Azula began clapping with as much enthusiasm as a princess was allowed to, and the others watching began to follow suit until Ozai stood and roared, “SILENCE!!!!”

Zuko flinched.

“You dare to dishonor me like this, you insolent whelp?!”

Zuko’s eyes went wide. Ozai had recognized him.

The Fire Lord stormed over to the stage, and Zuko scrambled back, as the man leaped onto the stage.

Zuko tripped and fell backward.

Everyone was frozen, as Zuko began to plead with the Fire Lord,  “It’s not what it looks like, Father! I didn’t mean you any-”

But Zuko’s pleas were cut off by screams and burning flesh.

All hell broke loose, as Ty Lee and her sisters reacted.

Ty Lee dropped down from the rafters and jabbed the Fire Lord with her chi blocking, as Ty Liu and Ty Lat rushed to throw Ozai from the stage.

Mai, while not one of Ty Ken’s sisters, joined the fight with her throwing knives.

General Iroh stood and for a moment Ty Lee feared he would attack them, but instead he attacked an approaching guard, as Azula rushed onto the stage and helped her get Ty Ken to his feet.

Neither of them willing to look at what remained of his face, as they ran with the other Ty Sisters, Mai, and General Iroh, fleeing the palace.

“Happy Birthday Princess, we’re all traitors,” Ty Woo groaned, as they burst through the palace gates and onto the streets of the city.

Azula responded with her trademark smirk, “Well, at least it wasn’t boring.”

At least General Iroh had a ship in the dock that they could use to flee to the Earth Kingdom.

Ty Lee didn’t chi block the Fire Lord of all people just to let her brother die after all.

#flameo-hotman #atla #avatar the last airbender #ask the hotman #zuko adoption menu #zuko #ty lee #ty lee's sisters

[gabrielkahane]

Heirloom

Short form:

Heirloom (concerto for piano & chamber orchestra) premieres with Jeffrey Kahane & the Kansas City Symphony under the baton of Michael Stern, September 24-26. Tickets are here.

I’ll play a solo show at Rockwood Music Hall on Tuesday, September 28th. My dear friend and colleague, Johnny Gandelsman, will open with a solo violin set. Johnny’s on at 7pm, I’ll go on around 8pm. Tickets are $20 and are here. This will be my only NYC appearance this year!

Applications for Luna Lab with Oregon Symphony are now open! If you are a female-identifying, non-binary, or gender-nonconforming composer between the ages of 12 and 18, and live in Portland or Southeast Washington, please apply for your chance to study for a year with the incredible Nathalie Joachim!

Long form:

Several years ago, my friend Eric Jacobsen started pestering me about writing a piano concerto for my father, Jeffrey Kahane. It was an intriguing (and natural!) idea, but I kept putting it off in large part because I’ve never felt comfortable with large-scale instrumental composition. I think of myself first and foremost as a songwriter, and while I love to write for instruments in the context of vocal music, I feel almost entirely unmoored when voice & text are taken away. But Eric was persistent, and, well, here we are. Next month, the Kansas City Symphony will open its season with Heirloom, after which the piece will be heard in the coming years in performances presented by the co-commissioners who’ve rounded out the consortium: the Oregon Symphony, the Aspen Music Festival, the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, and Eric’s Brooklyn-based group, The Knights.

Heirloom is an aural family scrapbook, exploring, in its three movements, a series of inheritances. I’m incredibly excited to witness its birth September 24-26 in Kansas City. You can find the program note I’ve written to accompany its premiere at the end of this email.

The following Tuesday, September 28th, I will play my first concert in New York City since our lives were individually and collectively turned upside down by the pandemic. Most of the evening will be devoted to a new slate of songs drawn from thirty-one composed in October of 2020, the final month of a year-long, complete internet hiatus. Johnny Gandelsman, violinist of Brooklyn Rider, opens with what promises to be a ravishing solo set. Tickets are here.

Lastly, in 2019, I took on the position of Creative Chair with the Oregon Symphony. I’m very pleased to announce that this season, we’ve begun a partnership with Luna Lab, the brainchild of composers Missy Mazzoli and Ellen Reid. Luna Composition Lab offers mentorship and professional training to female-identifying, non-binary, and gender-nonconforming composers between the ages of 12 and 18. We at the Oregon Symphony are incredibly grateful to partner with Luna Lab to offer one student a year-long period of mentorship with Grammy-nominated flutist, composer, and songwriter, Nathalie Joachim, who happens to be one of my all-time favorite humans, and who will be giving the world premiere of Suite from Fanm D’ayiti with the Oregon Symphony in the spring of 2022. What makes this even more amazing is that another all-time favorite human, the violinist Pekka Kuusisto, will be playing Nico Muhly’s concerto Shrink, on the same program. Oh, but we were talking about Luna Lab. If you or someone you know wants to apply, you can find more info & the application form here; you just have to submit one score & a recording (MIDI is acceptable). I will be reviewing submissions along with Nathalie. Applications are due on September 7th.

Obligatory capitalism appeal: I know it’s been a while since I’ve put out new music. It’s coming. I promise. In the meantime, may I remind you about this gorgeous limited edition vinyl record?

That’s it for now, folks. Stay safe. Try to lead with love, even when it’s hard.

All my best,

Gabriel

Heirloom program note:

Tucked away in the northernmost reaches of California sits the Bar 717 Ranch, which, each summer, is transformed into a sleep-away camp on 450 acres of wilderness, where, in 1967, two ten-year-old kids named Martha and Jeffrey met. Within a couple of years, they were playing gigs back in L.A. in folk rock bands with names like “Wilderness” and “The American Revelation.” They fell in love, broke up, fell in love again. By the time I was a child, my mom and dad had traded the guitars, flutes, and beaded jackets for careers in clinical psychology and classical music respectively. But they remained devoted listeners of folk music. Growing up, it was routine for dad to put on a Joni Mitchell record when he took a break from practicing a concerto by Mozart or Brahms. That collision of musical worlds might help to explain the creative path I’ve followed, in which songs and storytelling share the road with the Austro-German musical tradition.

That tradition comes to me through the music I heard as a child, but also through ancestry. My paternal grandmother, Hannelore, escaped Germany at the tail end of 1938, arriving in Los Angeles in early 1939 after lengthy stops in Havana and New Orleans. For her, there was an unspeakable tension between, on the one hand, her love of German music and literature, and, on the other, the horror of the Holocaust. In this piece, I ask, how does that complex set of emotions get transmitted across generations? What do we inherit, more broadly, from our forebears? And as a musician caught between two traditions, how do I bring my craft as a songwriter into the more formal setting of the concert hall?

The first movement, “Guitars in the Attic,” wrestles specifically with that last question, the challenge of bringing vernacular song into formal concert music. The two main themes begin on opposite shores: the first theme, poppy, effervescent, and direct, undergoes a series of transformations that render it increasingly unrecognizable as the movement progresses. Meanwhile, a lugubrious second tune, first introduced in disguise by the French horn and accompanied by a wayward English horn, reveals itself only in the coda to be a paraphrase of a song of mine called “Where are the Arms.” That song, in turn, with its hymn-like chord progression, owes a debt to German sacred music. A feedback loop emerges: German art music informs pop song, which then gets fed back into the piano concerto.

“My Grandmother Knew Alban Berg” picks up the thread of intergenerational memory. Grandma didn’t actually know Alban Berg, but she did babysit the children of Arnold Schoenberg, another German-Jewish émigré, who, in addition to having codified the twelve-tone system of composition, was Berg’s teacher. Why make something up when the truth is equally tantalizing? I suppose it has something to do with wanting to evoke the slipperiness of memory while getting at the ways in which cultural inheritance can occur indirectly. When, shortly after college, I began to study Berg’s Piano Sonata, his music— its marriage of lyricism and austerity; its supple, pungent harmonies; the elegiac quality that suffuses nearly every bar—felt eerily familiar to me, even though I was encountering it for the first time. Had a key to this musical language been buried deep in the recesses of my mind through some kind of ancestral magic, only to be unearthed when I sat at the piano and played those prophetic chords, which, to my mind, pointed toward the tragedy that would befall Europe half a dozen years after Berg’s death?

In this central movement, the main theme is introduced by a wounded-sounding trumpet, accompanied by a bed of chromatic harmony that wouldn’t be out of place in Berg’s musical universe. By movement’s end, time has run counterclockwise, and the same tune is heard in a nocturnal, Brahmsian mode, discomfited by interjections from the woodwinds, which inhabit a different, and perhaps less guileless, temporal plane.

To close, we have a kind of fiddle-tune rondo, an unabashed celebration of childhood innocence. In March of 2020, my family and I were marooned in Portland, Oregon, as the world was brought to its knees by the coronavirus pandemic. Separated from our belongings—and thus all of our daughter’s toys, which were back in our apartment in Brooklyn—my ever resourceful partner, Emma, fashioned a “vehicle” out of an empty diaper box, on which she majusculed the words vera’s chicken-powered transit machine. (Vera had by that point developed a strong affinity for chicken and preferred to eat it in some form thrice daily.) We would push her around the floor in her transit machine, resulting in peals of laughter and squeals of delight. In this brief finale, laughter and joy are the prevailing modes, but not without a bit of mystery. I have some idea of what I have inherited from my ancestors. What I will hand down to my daughter remains, for the time being, a wondrous unknown.

Heirloom is dedicated with love, admiration, gratitude, and awe, to my father, Jeffrey Kahane.

#jeffrey kahane #kansas city symphony #piano concerto #pekka kuusisto #nathalie joachim #oregon symphony #st. paul chamber orchestra #los angeles chamber orchestra #aspen music festival #missy mazzoli #ellen reid #rockwood music hall #johnny gandelsman #folk music #classical music #the knights #eric jacobsen