#were buying the tickets for the symphony now!!!!!

[cheerfullycatholic]

If I am so careful with my monies and avoid dollar tree and spirit halloween I think I'll be able to do all of the things I wanna do in November including paying for everyone I'm dragging along with me and I'm so excited I hope my poor family finds some joy in their forced participation 😅

[minhosimthings]

Lancey or Lancey

Symphony Smut Series Day 5: Lancey Foxx's Lancey or Lancey

Lyric: Took her to Paris, she took her panties off

Pairings: Bf!Felix × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering, p in v sex, overstimulation, lingerie kink, Frottage, implied use of pheromone, dom!felix, sub!reader, protected sex, reader orgasms like 3 times, fluffy at the end (sorta), smut with plot

A/N: sorry for delaying day 5 everyone! I had to release my Christmas headcannons yesterday so I couldn't really post this. But we are back on track! So enjoy my urge for Felix to buy my lingerie, through this stupid oneshot.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

"Felix tell me you're kidding right now."

"Hmm." Your boyfriend put his finger to his temple, pretending to playfully think, "I think.... Nope!"

You could have screamed out loud right there. But instead of damaging your boyfriend's ears, you decided to damage his heart, by filling it with too much love, by hugging him almost to the point of his ribs breaking.

"I love, I love you, and I love you." You kissed every part of his face after every 'i love you'. His freckles, his nose and finally his lips, where you loved to be the most.

"I can't believe we're going to Paris." You slumped back on the bed, not being able to realise that you had Paris tickets clutched in your hands.

"Me neither darling." Felix leaned closer to you, encasing your waist in his arms, his grip sending tingles throughout your body, "Oh and I have a surprise for you."

"Don't tell me you got me lingerie." You rolled your eyes at him playfully, "Lix, for god's sake you already bought me so much crap."

"But this is special, I promise!" Felix scrunched his nose at you, before reaching over and taking out a box from underneath the bed.

"You hid it under my bed for how long exactly?" You raised your brow at his weird hiding spot, "Wait so this is why you were searching for your missing sock under my bed!?"

Felix chuckled, his deep voice pulsating throughout your body like electroshock. "You never clean the underside of your bed, so it became the perfect hiding place."

The box he held in his hands was about the size of a shoebox, completely covered in pink ribbons and lace and whatnot. It was pretty, you had to admit, but you were confused about whether Felix was getting you a box or lingerie.

"Open it princess." Felix nudged the box into your arms, "You'll like it, I promise."

You had often gotten lingerie as gifts from your boyfriend, with all of them almost becoming your daily wear. But he had never gotten you something like this.

"Liz is this-" "A lingerie dress? Yes princess, yes it is."

You stared at felix in awe, before snapping your head back to the white cloth in the box. It was pretty, made up of, what you assumed was white silk, with lace ribbons decorating the neckline perfectly.

"But, but, but, this isn't the surprise."

You looked up at Felix with confusion clouding your eyes, which made him chukle at how adorable you were.

"So the surprise is-" Felix said, in a hyperbole voice, "I get to fuck you in these in Paris."

"That's the surprise?" You scoffed, at how underwhelming it was, "We could fuck-"

"And you get no sex until we get to Paris and you're in this beautiful piece of art."

It was as if you got a slap to your face when you heard Felix's words echo through your mind.

"Lee Felix Yongbok." You glared at him, "Tell me you're joking."

"Nope." Felix leaned back against the bedframe, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal his abs, "Let's just say this is payback for making me love no nut November on purpose."

"So what is this then? Death by No Dick December?" You glared at him, as he sealed you tighter in his arms.

"Impatient aren't you?" Felix mumbled into your ear, rubbing his hand against your leggings, "Patience is a good virtue darling."

"Not when your dick is literally rubbing against my pussy."

A week passed and you were finally in the land of romance and love and roses and croissants.

A week with none of your favourite food in your mouth or in your pussy. Felix enjoyed it, the way you were basically on your knees for him, but you weren't a sore loser, so you kept the game up, with the help of your trusty vibrator.

But now, it was the real game.

After you enjoyed some nice croissants by a quaint cafe and petted a lot of stray cats, you headed back to your hotel, side-eyeing Felix all along the way who had not a clue about all the breakdowns you were about to have. Your cunt was itching to the point of destruction, and his dick was the only way of peace.

"Well aren't you gorgeous now?"

The room was more dimly lit than it was when you had entered it, the smell of lavender intoxicating you, courtesy to Felix's new perfume.

"Come 'ere." Felix opened his arms, as you silently walked towards him, the chill breeze from the open window giving you goosebumps. The material of the lingerie was thinner than you had anticipated, basically transparent, but then you reminded yourself that this was what Felix liked the most. And if you obeyed properly like his good princess, he would give you the medicine to your poor cunt.

"Fuck you're like a goddess." Felix's hands traced over your barely clothes thighs, leaving marks with his mouth on your collarbone, making you whimper.

"What do you want princess?" Felix chuckled. Teasing you was always fun, "My cock hmm? Use your big girl words now, come on. We don't wanna disappoint the city of love do we?"

"Ah fuck Lix!" Your voice vibrated off of the walls as felix squeezed the inner walls of your thigh, the desperation of him had been so high that even a tiny squeeze was already getting you wet, "Need your cock please!"

"Good girl."

He chuckles at how needy you sound, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your panties.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your cunt. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Felix lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how the weeks without pussy had been paying off. He was getting better.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

“Lix” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

"Well-" Felix's deep voiced chuckle vibrates throughout your body, "That was fucking good."

"First of all-" you sleepily say, "Fuck you for depriving me of all that good dick for a week." You glare at him, "Second of all, I want more lingerie like this."

"Whatever you say darling." Felix shrugs his shoulders, supporting you a little straighter against his figure, "You know Paris does have really good lingerie."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged the list is open!

[the-faramir]

Today seemed like any other day in the town square of Willowside. Townspeople milled about the shops, buying whatever foodstuffs and supplies the merchants had to sell.

Suddenly, calliope music started playing from one of the side streets. People turning to look saw a parade approaching the town square. At the forefront marched Midori, a kitsune woman with a red fox fur pattern and red hair, dressed in a green circus ringmaster's outfit complete with a green top hat. She carried a short staff resembling a stick of multicolored candy with a head resembling a snake's which she shifted up and down with the beat of the music, keeping the constituents of her parade in step.

Once the ringmaster stepped into the center of the town square, she gestured dismissively with her free hand and the entire parade faded into a green mist, leaving only Midori standing there as the calliope music continued.

She spoke with a magically amplified,  booming voice, reaching all in that part of town as if she were standing next to them.

"ANNNNNNND NOW, because we sailed all the way from Kerrick and we aim to entertain, we proudly announce tonight's performance of the only island-hoppin', xulgath-defeatin', carnivorous-plant-mulchin', demon-slayin', dinosaur-extinctin', ghost-bustin', aeon-stone-repairin', extinction-curse-liftin' circus in the Inner Sea, including THEEE VERRRY HEROESSS who brought Mistress Dusklight of the Celestial Menagerie to justice and freed those under her control: the CIRCUS OF WAYWARD WONNNNNNNDERRRRRS!"

Midori began to twirl her staff faster and faster in front of herself, finally tossing it high into the air and catching it deftly in her hands before it could hit the ground. She thrust the base of the staff into the ground, magically transforming it into a candy-striped ball python that started dancing to the music which began building dramatically as Midori prepared to sing.

🎵🎵🎵

Step right up, don't be shy, take a chance, Join the Circus of Wayward Wonders, be part of the dance. The ringmaster calls, with a voice so bold, "Buy your tickets now, let the marvels unfold!"

Come one, come all, to the grandest show in town, Where wonders await and smiles replace every frown. A spectacle of colors, where magic and reality blend, Axel's birds take flight, with sweets they descend.

The Dwarven Throwers, stout and brave, They soar through the air, the audience they crave. Elizia's serpents, a dance so divine, With Mr. Tickles, they twist and entwine.

Hear the music, feel the beat, in your heart, Magical Myrrie plays her part, a symphony to start. The Mystic Artists, with strokes so fine, Your dreams on canvas, in colors that shine.

In the center ring, the lights shine bright, Every act, a story, every performer a knight. The circus is more than a mere delight, It's a world of wonder, taking flight.

So gather 'round, the show's about to begin, The Circus of Wayward Wonders, where dreams spin. The ringmaster's song, a call to all who hear, "Come join the wonder, come join the cheer!"

🎵🎵🎵

Once the music had stopped, a few people in the square clapped politely. Midori took an over-exaggerated bow, picked up her snake, changed it back into a staff, and then meandered through the town square to sell tickets.

Surveying the crowds for potential buyers, Midori's attention caught on the brightly colored tail of...well, Midori wasn't quite sure. She—Midori initially thought the being was a "she," but rethought "perhaps 'they,' because it's better not to assume with an unknown being"—they certainly did not appear to be a local. Definitely, a sentient person of some sort as their eyes—all four—had a look of intelligence about them as they glanced about the town. They wore a humanoid-style top on their humanoid torso but had a snake-like tail similar to a nagaji's or lamia's. They also had horns, which were not unknown in the various forms of nagaji found across Golarion.

Midori sauntered over to the being to strike up a conversation. "Why hello, my good being! Not to be rude, not to make assumptions about you, but you appear to be from out of town. May I ask from where do you haii?" Midori's eyes widened as a grin crossed her face. "Are you in town for the circus? Have you heard about us in your homeland?"

@llixulia

[blurredcolour]

Extrication in G Major | Part Two

Extrication in G Major Masterlist

Summary: While trying to convince yourself that you had made the right decision leaving the party without Jake’s contact information, the man himself unexpectedly shows up after one of your performances.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Cellist Reader

Warnings: Language, Jake Continues to be a Stubborn Flirt, Mention of Sound of Gunshots, Alcohol Consumption, Reader Cannot Play Pool, Reader Panic Attack

Credit: Renée Rodenkirchen

Word Count: 4669

Your traitorous heart was more than a little disappointed at your successful getaway last Friday evening. No matter how many times you tried to remind it that you had come to this city on the sea, baked dry by the scorching heat, as far south as one could go without being in another country, to extricate yourself from other human beings – your traitorous heart wanted nothing more than to drown itself in Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin’s jade green eyes. Those eyes glittering with the triumph of hearing you use his first name after a very determined and successful twenty-four-hour mission.

Preparations for the concert series the following weekend had helped distract you, occupying your mind during the day and using enough of your energy to allow you fall asleep quickly. It was in the wee hours of the morning, the thinking hours between three and dawn, that if you had the misfortune of regaining consciousness then all manner of thoughts would flood your mind. And somehow Jake had invited himself into the privacy of these pre-dawn ponderances.

It turned out it was an equally good thing you did not have his number.

As you were bidding one of your section mates farewell after the Sunday matinee, you were of a mind to treat yourself to a dinner out. Nothing extravagant, but a step above cup noodles to celebrate your first pay cheque and the successful completion of your first concert series with your new symphony. You would have missed him, dressed in a cobalt blue suit with matching tie, just a hint of weekend scruff on his face, if he had not called your name as you made your way down the steps outside the stage door. Your head snapped in his direction, and you paused, motionless on the stairs for a moment as you took in the bouquet of spring flowers he carried. He closed the distance between you with a few easy strides.

“Lieutenant Commander…” You started automatically and immediately regretted it with the way his grin faltered. “…Jake!” You finished quickly. “I…”

His grin recovered, taking on its usual air of self-assured confidence. “For you.” He held out the flowers. “Trade you for the cello?”

You looked to the bouquet and swallowed before nodding slowly, your traitorous heart fluttering beneath your ribs as you shrugged the straps from your shoulders and took the bouquet to cradle it in your arms.

“They’re beautiful, thank you very much.” You blinked rapidly at some unexpected moisture along your waterline – you honestly could not recall the last time someone had been waiting for you with flowers after a performance.

“Not as beautiful as you…or that concert…” He nodded, easily shouldering your cello and you looked to him quickly, somehow finding the idea of him buying a ticket and sitting through the concert unexpected. “My first symphony, yes.” He smirked. “It was very educational. Now, have you eaten?”

You shook your head; both at his ability to see right through you and in response to his question.

“Perfect, join me for dinner?” He offered his hand and you glanced at it, the logical part of your brain insisting that you refuse while your musculoskeletal system was already setting your hand in his. “Lovely.”

He led you over to a pick-up truck neatly parked in the attendees’ lot and set your cello on the backseat with care, buckling it in. It was at that moment you were fully convinced the man was trying to seduce you. Opening the passenger door, he gripped your hips, giving you a boost into the seat. You barely contained your gasp at the strength you felt in his arms as you landed softly in the front seat. Swallowing thickly, you swung your legs into the cab and buckled your seatbelt as he closed the door and came around to slide into the driver’s seat.

“So…name the cuisine, I’ll know the place.” He looked to you as he turned the key, the engine roaring to life powerfully.

Chewing on your lip a moment, you decided to name what you had been searching for on your phone, even if it wasn’t particularly fashionable any longer.

“Sushi?” You ventured, a touch of hesitation in your voice to give him the option to object but he nodded firmly before pulling out, easily manoeuvring the oversized vehicle through the city before pulling into a strip mall.

Your eyes darted between the Planned Parenthood and the 7-Eleven before landing on him dubiously.

“Best in town.” He assured you, helping you and the cello out of his truck, leading you into the unassuming restaurant.

The host was only mildly confused by the instrument slung over Jake’s shoulder but made no further comment as they led you to a table with a bench seating along the wall. Jake tucked the cello in the corner, resting it against a wall of decorative wood slats, before looking to you for your seating preference. You quickly slid onto the bench beside your instrument, and he slid into the wooden chair across from you as the host handed out the menus.

Making a combination of selections together, you settled back to sip on your green tea as Jake ordered, glancing around the packed restaurant.

“It’s busy for a Sunday…” You remarked once the server left, feeling as though the pair of you were overly formal with you in a performance dress and him in his suit.

“I wasn’t lying, it really is the best in town. Just like you’re the best cellist in that orchestra.” He grinned at you proudly.

You coughed a little as the sharp inhale his statement caused drove some of the hot tea down your windpipe. You shook your head firmly.

“Definitely not…” You croaked and cleared your throat again. “I’m just a substitute for a 4th chair, Jake…” you took a sip of cool water to calm your spasming muscles.

“We both know I’m not an expert here, darlin’, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you. That definitely speaks to your talent.” He insisted and you looked up in relief as your miso soup arrived, giving you something to divert your attention to instead of those intense jade eyes that were so determined to end your life with their adoration.

Not long after, a tray of immaculately prepared nigiri and maki arrived, making your eyes widen in awe.

“The presentation is so lovely, it’s almost a shame to eat it…” You murmured, wiping your fingers on the hot towel provided.

“Almost.” Jake smirked, doing to same and selecting one of the nigiri you had chosen, lifting it with his fingers in the traditional style. “Soy sauce, or no?” He asked your preference, following your instruction, before holding it to your lips.

You stared at his expectant face, stunned momentarily before reaching to take the piece from him. He shook his head and shifted it closer to your lips. You looked to him, skeptically raising an eyebrow, but the look on his face and the way it filled your lower abdomen with molten metal thoroughly convinced you that you would not win a battle of wills against him.

You parted your lips and accepted the bite-sized bed of rice with its perfectly prepared topping on your tongue, eyes closing involuntarily at the immaculate flavour.

“That’s right.” Jake breathed, making your eyes fly open as he sounded a lot closer than he ought to be.

You busied yourself with prepping a piece for him, chewing and swallowing as you motioned to the soy sauce dish with your eyebrows raised in silent question. He nodded with a smirk, watching you swipe the fish through the dark liquid before extending it towards his waiting lips.

He leaned forward, playfully bypassing the piece of nigiri to snag your pinkie finger between his gleaming white teeth.

"E…easy, flyboy, my hands are my livelihood." You protested weakly; voice notably thick.

He released the digit, pressing his lips to the pad of your finger apologetically before accepting the bite happily. He nodded enthusiastically as he chewed, insisting on hand feeding you the rest of the meal and only accepting the same in return.

After countless nibbles and nips to your fingertips, you unwrapped one of the toothpicks that arrived with the bill and carefully set it between his teeth.

“There, hopefully that will satisfy your oral fixation for a time.” You huffed, feigning exasperation.

He grinned at you as he paid, clenching the mint-flavoured piece of wood between his sharp teeth before manipulating it around his mouth with his tongue as he waited for you to finish the last of your tea. You gripped onto the ceramic mug, and the last of your sanity, tightly – you could not help but watch the dexterity of that slick, pink muscle inside his mouth and wonder what else it might be good at.

Jake insisted on driving you home that evening, despite your best efforts to assure him that ride sharing was convenient and affordable.

“I’m right here, right now, and free.” He cast you a cheeky grin and input your address into the map on his phone. You did not miss the slight raise of his eyebrow, but thankfully he was enough of a gentleman not to comment.

He undeniably sat up straighter the further he drove into your neighbourhood. His free hand – that for most of the drive had casually dangled from the armrest between you – rose to grip the steering wheel properly as the directions guided him to turn into the parking lot of your building. He pulled up to the door, putting the truck in park, and looked to you slowly.

“Darlin’…I’m going to need you to text me twice a day.” He said firmly, expression taking on an edge of seriousness you had never before witnessed from him.

“It’s not that bad Jake.” You protested, pulling on the handle, opening the door a crack just as the distant yet unmistakable sound of a few errant gunshots filled the air.

He raised his eyebrows pointedly as you instinctively pulled the door shut and you sighed heavily. You fished out your phone and opened a new contact, looking to him expectantly. He easily rattled off the ten digits from memory and you save them to your phone before sending him a message.

I’m alive.

He glanced at his phone on the dash and nodded.

“Thank you. I’ll walk you up.” Turning off the car, Jake grabbed his phone and your cello before following you up the stairs and down the breezeway to your apartment. He looked over the half wall down to where his truck was parked, tsking his tongue against his teeth. “Not even a secure entry?” He huffed a little as you unlocked your door and turned to him, reaching for your instrument with one hand, the somewhat stressed bouquet of flowers clasped in the other.

“Saving up for something better, this is not permanent.” You muttered and he set the straps in your hand carefully.

“You take care of yourself alright?” He frowned a little and you bit your lip, wishing his concern didn’t making your stomach flutter that way.

You slid the straps of your cello case onto your shoulder and reached up to tap his nose, smiling bravely.

“I’m much safer in here than the rims on your pretty truck down there…night Jake.”

He smirked a little and chased your finger with a few snaps of his teeth, toothpick having vanished somewhere along the way.

“Night, darlin’…I mean it though, two texts…morning and night, or I’m breaking down this door.”

“Understood, Lieutenant Commander.” You smirked and stepped back, letting the door close on his all-too-pretty face before you went and did something ill-advised like haul him in for a kiss. You pressed your forehead against the wooden door smoothed by numerous coats of paint, forcing your lungs to fully inflate with a deep, slow breath. The stretch was almost painful and reminded you that you hadn’t been breathing properly around him.

The cello was tucked away into its box in the back of the closet, and you found an empty plastic pitcher to set the bouquet in. Cutting off the ends and setting the flowers in water perked up the stressed blooms and brought an amount of cheer to your bland apartment. As you were settling into bed later that evening, you looked to your phone as it chimed – something that felt incredibly rare as of late.

You’ll be happy to know the truck is fine. Good night.

You laughed softly to yourself before replying,

Oh thank god...Thanks again for dinner, Jake. Sleep well

Despite his request for two daily messages, the actual number the pair of you exchanged far exceeded that. You had given him a direct method of communicating with you and he was prolific – photos, memes, stream of consciousness messages as he wound down in the evenings. Through your photo replies, it became increasingly apparent that aside from rehearsals, performances, and the occasional trip to the coffee shop near the rehearsal studio, you really did not get out much.

His campaign to convince you to join him and his friends for drinks at their favourite bar lasted precisely six days and four hours. He had a rational reply for each of your objections; not knowing anyone – “the point is to make friends, darlin’!”, the money – “my idea, my treat”, the access –“your Uber driver Jake will arrive in thirty minutes”, and finally the safety of your cello –“my place is right by the bar, it’ll be safe there you have my word.” Once each of your excuses was easily brushed aside, you were left with no other choice but to agree.

In fact, you found yourself looking forward to an evening out, stopping by the mall on your way home from rehearsal and picking up a new dress in a colour other than black. It felt like an extravagance, making a purchase purely for yourself, even if it was a mass-produced piece of a fast fashion. You felt on trend for the first time in a long time. The cut flattered your body and showed off your usually hidden legs, the shade highlighted your skin tone, giving you a much-needed boost of confidence.

Jake’s reaction when you answered his knock that night, the way his eyes raked up and down your body and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, convinced you that it was the best forty dollars you had ever spent. You took advantage of his distraction to indulge yourself in a little visual appreciation of his khakis – he’d been wearing them when you’d first met but you’d been a somewhat preoccupied by being annoyed with him at the time.

“All set?” He asked and you looked to his eyes quickly, nodding as you grabbed your cello and purse.

He quickly took over your instrument, waiting as you locked up before leading you down to his truck, once again boosting you inside. You watched with interest as he drove across the Coronado bridge, not an area of the city you’d had the opportunity to visit previously, swallowing as he pulled up to a row of Spanish style homes.

“I’ll just tuck this inside, ok?” He reached back, patting your cello and you nodded, trusting him enough to retrieve it from the backseat and take it into his house.

You weren’t entirely sure, but you thought you could glimpse the blue waters of San Diego Bay through the windows, which would set the value of this property in the millions. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, and you had to put in a concerted effort to dislodge it, trying not to look frantic as he easily strode back to the vehicle.

“I’ll show you around another time, darlin’, the squad is eager to meet you…” He pulled out, pointing the truck towards the Naval Station as his free hand came to rest on the bare skin your knee, the warmth of his palm causing a bloom of goosebumps across your flesh.

Inhale. Exhale. Unclench your fingers on the door handle. You look insane.

“What horrible stories have you been telling them about me, Jake?” You smirked, pleased that your voice sounded almost normal to your ears.

“Nothing horrible at all, Javy can confirm, he’ll be there.” He insisted defensively.

It took you a moment before you remembered properly.

“Oh! Lieutenant Machado! I do know someone else here…” You smiled warmly as Jake pulled into the parking lot.

“What does that make me, darlin’?” He pressed a hand to his chest, looking all too wounded.

“Thanks for the ride, Jake. I’ll be sure to give you five stars on the app.” You grinned teasingly and hopped out of the truck, hearing him growl playfully as he followed after you.

The wall of humanity crammed into the small space on the other side of the door nearly stopped you in your tracks. You were thankful as Jake’s warm hand came to rest on your lower back, gently guiding you around the thick of it to front of the building where the roof sloped down towards a row of windows overlooking the beach and ocean beyond. A pool table centred the space and a smaller group of people, dressed in khakis just like Jake, were congregated there.

What followed was a series of introductions, each of them clearly preferring to go by their call signs. You bit your lip after shaking each of their hands and gestured around the group, trying to ensure you got it right.

“Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Coyote,” Javy fairly beamed when you got his call sign right, “Payback and Fanboy?” You repeated hopefully and breathed a sigh of relief when they happily confirmed you got it right.

“So, Hangman said you’re from Boston…sure don’t sound like it…” Rooster smirked and took a sip of his beer.

You swallowed and tilted your head.

“Cuz I don’ muhdah mah vowls?” You asked in an exaggeration of a Bostonian accent.

You felt Jake squeeze you hip as everyone laughed and looked to him.

“I’ll go grab you a drink, what would you like?” He asked and you smiled warmly, placing your order.

You chatted warmly with Phoenix, Payback and Fanboy, Bob standing in your conversation circle listening quietly as Rooster and Coyote resumed their pool game. Jake returned with drinks, and you settled onto the tall, blue leather chairs that filled the space. While the conversation was remarkably similar to that among any group of work friends, the most striking thing about them was how competitive they all were.

No twenty minutes after your arrival and Fanboy had arranged a pool tournament. You were filled with trepidation, honestly not remembering the last time you had played pool, but decided to honour the intention of the evening and stood when you were called up to play against Phoenix. You stood patiently as Jake sized up a few cues against your shoulder before setting one in your hand.

“This is the right one.” He nodded definitively.

“Thanks Jake. Promise not to hate me after she destroys me?” You smirked.

“Not possible, darlin’.” He smirked back.

“The hating, or the destroying?” You laughed.

“Definitely gotta be the hating.” Phoenix grinned darkly at you from across the table you and felt more than a little intimidated.

Winning the coin toss, you eyed the neatly arranged triangle of colourful balls on the felt in front of you, keenly aware of many eyes observing and judging you. Taking a deep sip of liquid courage, you set the cue ball down and took your shot, unfortunately not sinking a single ball. There were a few murmurs of consolation, but they were quickly silenced when Phoenix proceeded to sink a solid-coloured ball – thus claiming that as her set – shortly followed by another three before finally missing a shot making it your turn again.

Gnawing on your lip, you studied the placement of the cue ball in relation to any possible shots with stripes, feeling the front of Jake’s shirt brush your elbow. You looked to him as he parted his lips, hoping he was about to offer some sort of advice when Fanboy suddenly shouted across the room –

“Ah, ah, ah! No helping! Solo tournament only!”

Trying not to look crestfallen you pressed a hand to Jake’s chest, trying not to focus on how firm it felt beneath your palm.

“It’s ok, I knew what I was getting into.” You patted the fabric of his shirt gently and turned back to the table before making you choice, leaning in to make your shot.

You could feel the hem of your dress sliding up the backs of your thighs as you bent at the waist and stretched forward, but you were confident that your butt remained covered, so you were unconcerned. Taking the shot, you surprised yourself as the striped three-ball actually sank into the pocket, straightening with a gasp. You turned to smile at Jake only to find him not where you left him. He stepped up behind you and squeezed your shoulders proudly before pressing his lips together and letting you choose your next shot, fairly vibrating with the desire to guide you.

You moved around to the other side of the table, having to stretch a little more, but with a pony wall right behind you it was unlikely anyone would see very much. Pulling back your cue, you were surprised when it collided with an unexpected obstacle and looked over your shoulder to see that Jake was once again occupying the space behind you. Unable to stop your arm in time, your cue slid forward to barely tap the ball, sending it spinning ineffectively across the felt and wasting your shot.

“Jake…?” You tilted your head as you came to stand beside him as Phoenix stalked around the table, hunting her next shot.

“Sorry darlin’…. just…got worried about your dress there…” He muttered, fingers skating along the hem of your dress, faintly brushing the bare skin of your legs at the same time.

You looked down, furrowing your brows in thought as you followed the movement before your eyes widened in comprehension.

“Oh I…” You swallowed thickly as your heart clenched and you nudged him with your shoulder in gratitude. “Thanks…”

After Phoenix sank another two, it was once again your turn. Unfortunately, you sank the cue ball and immediately lost the game, fully eliminating yourself from the tournament.

“Well, if I’d know that was all it took, I would have done that on my first shot!” You laughed self deprecatingly and happily hung up your cue for the evening.

Settling in to watch Fanboy and Bob play the next game, Jake took the chair next to you, his hand landing on your knee for the second time that evening.

“I can teach you, if you’d like darlin’…not sure if you want to callous those precious hands of yours but…”

You smiled warmly and finished your drink, shaking your head.

“I’d really like that…thank you…This music geek could use a little schooling in what to do at a bar.” You smirked and licked your lips as you felt his fingers press into your skin a little.

“You want another one?” He gestured to your empty drink.

“Maybe in a bit? I have pool to watch.”

“Well, save your attention for the really good players.” He winked cockily and you rolled your eyes but found yourself unable to look away as he started his game against Payback.

The positions he put his body into and the way those khakis hugged his muscles as he effortlessly sank shot after shot was definitely having an effect on you. As he handily won the game, you stood to fetch a round, thankful when Bob offered to help you as nearly everyone took you up on your offer. Upon your return, you narrowed your eyes playfully to find Jake in your seat, with no other vacant options.

“You stole my spot.” You took a sip, leaning against the wall beside him instead.

“Plenty of room, darlin’” He smirked, patting his firm thigh and you scoffed.

But after a few minutes of standing, you found yourself emboldened just enough by your liquor intake to stick out your chin stubbornly and shift to perch on his knees. You had barely glimpsed the widening of his eyes before your back was turned to him, but it had been worth it. Taking another sip, you turned you attention back to the pool table, clenching your thighs as you felt yourself gradually sliding off his knees. It had been fun while it lasted, you supposed.

His tanned forearm snaked around the front of your hips and pulled you fully into his lap, your back pressing against his chest, pulling a soft gasp from you.

“Couldn’t have you fallin’ onto the floor there, darlin’” He drawled into your ear, chin coming to rest on your shoulder, and you barely contained your shudder, nodding haltingly.

Doing your best to focus on the game unfolding before you, and not the way his scent filled your nostrils, you were grateful when he started to point out useful tips based on the shots Coyote was taking. His arm remained wrapped around your hips and your free hand naturally came to rest on his wrist as you relaxed against him.

One-by-one the rest of the squad was eliminated until the final round came down to Rooster versus Hangman. You slid off Jake’s lap carefully to visit the washroom before the game began, feeling comfortably buzzed and more than a little enamoured with the handsome aviator. You were just making were way back through the still-crowded bar when your eyes fell onto a pile of cash on the pool table, Jake grinning cockily as he added several bills from his own wallet.

“Yeah, I’ll take that bet!” He laughed and you felt the blood draining from your extremities, the temperature of the room seeming to drop by at least ten degrees.

Frantically, you tried to grasp onto thought and reason, but they had already abandoned you to terror and confusion. Acrid sweat prickled in your armpits, and you dug out your phone with shaking hands, the overwhelming urge to flee pulsing through every nerve-ending in your body, driving you to summon an escape. Your breaths had devolved to ragged gasps, and the dopamine rush when your ride share app confirmed a driver was four minutes out had a multicoloured aura dancing at the edge of your vision.

You turned, without looking up, towards the general direction where you knew the door to be, your shoulder colliding with something solid. Jerking your head up, eyes wild with a flood of fresh panic, you saw a startled Rooster making his way back to the table from the washroom.

“Hey, sorry there…you ok…?” His tone changed and slowed as he took in your face.

“Sorry, reallynotfeelingwellcanyoutelltheothersIgottago…” You exhaled in a rush and darted through the crowd without waiting for a reply, leaping into the waiting car and pressing back into the seat to try and restore measured breaths.

The pressure in your chest slowly eased the further you got from the bar, enough sense returning that you recognized the need to text Jake directly. You pulled out your phone and frowned to see two missed calls from him.

I’m so sorry, I’m really not feeling well. I had to bail. Good luck on your last game!

K.

The single letter reply glared up at you, your lower lip wobbling as your vision blurred. You could not help but feel like you deserved this for daring to allow yourself to let Jake…to let his friends…into your life. Broken people like you with baggage like yours didn’t belong in places like that with people like them. You climbed out of the car at your crappy apartment block in your dodgy neighbourhood. This was where you belonged, and you really needed to remember that.

Read Part Three

Extrication in G Major Masterlist

[cleoselene]

All The Concerts!

my mom wrote down every concert she's ever been to and it's a LOT, like in the triple digits

and it got me thinking if I could name every concert I've ever been to? I am fearful I might forget some tho my MS memory sucks but here goes:

New Kids on the Block

Boyz II Men/MC Hammer

Tori Amos (x7)

Switchblade Symphony

KMFDM with Nivek Ogre

VNV Nation (x2)

Air Supply (x2)

Terri Clark (lol I hated country when my family dragged me to this one, I was in my peak Snob Goth era)

Garth Brooks (happened much later when I had learned to embrace country)

Peter Cetera

Sarah McLachlan

The Editors

Radiohead (i hated this hahah, it was so fucking boring like their music. My friend bought the tickets and I had hoped seeing them live would make it click. It did not. I was bored and cold because it was raining in Seattle)

Coldplay (was so much better than Radiohead, seethe snobby indie rock fans)

Regina Spektor

The Decemberists (literally the worst concert I've ever seen. Again I did not buy the tickets but my friend who liked going to indie rock shows always bought two tickets in hopes of getting a date and I was her backup if she didn't. To be clear even though this and Radiohead sucked, I did have a great time with my friend both times)

Cake

George Clinton & Parliament Funkadelic

Puscifer

Barry Manilow

ummm now I'm drawing a blank but I KNOW I've been to more shows and the stupid brain damage is making me forget. I've always been to see a fuck ton of tribute bands at this supper club, and tbh they were almost all really good. The Pink Floyd one especially. Also lol in middle school once this club I was in had a band come perform and they were like... a hair metal Christian band that took mainstream rock songs like "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi and changed the lyrics to like... "LIVING 'CAUSE I PRAAYYYY" and it was fucking hilarious. It's driving me crazy tho because I know there are more actual real concerts I am forgetting -_-

so i guess if you count all the artists I saw multiple times, it comes to... *maths* 28 concerts? Which tbh does not feel like nearly enough.

on the bucket list:

Vienna Teng

Brandi Carlile

Portishead (lol this will never happen but a girl can dream)

Beyoncé

Taylor Swift

TOOL

A Perfect Circle

The Amazing Devil (which is somehow even less likely than Portishead)

SO I'LL MAKE THIS A MEME. Tell me which concerts you've been to, and tell me which concerts you feel like you MUST see before you die. @deathinthesun @an-ivy-covered-summer @swiftzeldas @sylvieons and whoever else wants to do it~

I did get Taylor tickets last year HOWEVER they were... beyond atrocious, the seats. Like, upper upper deck, BEHIND the stage with like no visibility, not even of the screens, because again: BEHIND. I had like three people trying to get tickets that day and 2/3 of us failed but my friend succeeded and she was like "do you want me to buy these? they're upper deck" and I was like yeah yeah that's okay! We can look at the screens! And then I saw the "OBSTRUCTED VISIBILITY" thing and looked at the layout and I was like...kind of devastated, honestly? It's really hard for me to do an outing like that physically, it was outdoors in April (which translates to HOT in Florida) and I just didn't see myself able to endure 5 or 6 hours at minimum in the heat without like, passing out and dying. Not to mention I'm still really scared of being in a large space with that many people because my disease-modifying drug destroys most of my immune system. I ended up selling them, and... buying my vinyl collection lol. Taylor got a lot of that money again because I bought a lot of her records. I'm kind of bummed that maybe I missed my chance forever, but again, I don't think I could have physically swung it. Plus, of the three nights she did Tampa, the show I was supposed to go to had meh surprise songs while the other 2 nights had AMAZING ones, so I know I would have been salty about that too. ONE DAY THO.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Shostakovich-Sollertinsky letter translations: Letter 3

10th January 1928, Moscow Dear Ivan Ivanovich, I did not write to you immediately, because things have gone back to normal only now. The only thing that consoles my yearning for Leningrad in this circumstance is that I have good work here. "The Nose" made strong progress. In the theatre, I begin my work tomorrow. What will happen? Relatively, I will probably tell you about my [First] symphony, or N. A. Malko will. After the concert, this busy episode happened, a characterization of "my friend," M. V. Kvadri. One of my acquaintances told me about this episode yesterday. I came in half an hour before the concert and stood (waiting) to buy my ticket. Having bought the ticket, I sat down in my seat in the 16th row and hid behind a newspaper, in order to avoid M. V. Kvadri. I succeeded in doing this. I met him at the time of my exit "bow out." Kvadri suddenly appeared on stage, quickly hugged me, kissed me thrice in the Russian custom, and loudly shouted, "Go to the stage! Take a bow!" It is very characteristic how he got to the concert. He went with the administrator and with the loud laughter of others surrounding him, demanded two tickets on the basis that "Shostakovich's symphony was dedicated to me." His acquaintance, an orchestra musician, for greater persuasiveness, added, "after all, this is Kvadri! The spiritual father of Shostakovich!" They were given the tickets. At intermission, among all the congratulations, the administrator came up to me and apologized before me straightaway for giving Kvadri the tickets. I was slightly surprised, but "forgave him." And yesterday my acquaintance told me about this episode, and I remember it all. Here are some current developments- Here I live in the company of geniuses. [Context- he sarcastically refers to Vsevolod Meyerhold, a theatre director and playwright, and Meyerhold's wife, Zinaida Raikh, an actress.] A genius producer, a "genius actress," ("Ah, Zinka! How you performed yesterday. It was very brilliant!"), a "genius composer" and "genius poetess." These last two are the "genius" children of the poet Esenin and a "genius" actress. The boy (a composer) gets on my nerves. He pokes at the keys of the piano, and Meyerhold says, "something extraordinary is immediately felt." The girl reads poems: "The kitty cat played. The girl danced. The dog got up, And bit the cat on the nose. The cat started crying, The dog barked," etc. Zinaida Raikh speaks in a pleasant voice, "This is absolutely excellent! She inherited a sweet muse from her father! Ah, Sergei, Sergei! Ah, Esenin, Esenin!" "Great job, children! Great job," says V. E. [Meyerhold]. "Shostakovich! I believe they did a great job. I believe it." Raikh says: "What do you say, Dima? (That is what they call me here.) Tanya inherited her father's talent, but where did Kostya's musical talent come from?" Meyerhold: "From you." Raikh: "Why from me? I am in fact an actress, not a musician." Meyerhold: "You are an actress. You have known to the end what the written word is. And where the written word ends, music begins, said Heine. Do you believe this, Dima?" He shudders slightly. Often he asks, "Do you believe this, Dima? And? What?" I have to agree in sullen silence. This is how my life goes, cheerfully. Yesterday I was at Kerzhentse's. He is now Deputy statistician, Former Plenipotentiary in Rome. I met interesting people, among them Raskolnikov [Footnote- political figure and diplomat] and Eisenstein [a film director]. In general, I really miss you. I love you and I miss you. Write. D. Shostakovich.

[orchestratedemotion]

i was tagged by @thetightwhiteshirt !

are you named after anyone? My first name is my own, one of my middle names is my mum’s mum and one is a feminine derivative of my dad’s dad.

when was the last time you cried? Oh, yesterday. Absolutely. It’s finals week in my 2nd last semester, I haven’t slept and I’m waiting on job offers. I don’t know if I’m moving interstate or not, life is WEIRD right now! 

do you have kids? No, and I don’t want them. I do want more pets! 

do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh for sure

what sports do you play/have you played? Orchestra was my sport. I did a little bit of gymnastics and swimming but stopped when I was still pretty young. It was a sports or music situation in my household. I didn’t start following sports at all until I was an adult, 16 year old me would drop dead if you told her I’m basically a sports blog now!

what’s the first thing you notice about other people? ... I genuinely can’t think of an answer for this one. How open and approachable they seem, maybe? 

scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, I’m an absolute wimp who can’t do horror! 

any special talents? Getting a science degree when I’m really an arts kid. Hyperfixating on the most ‘some guy’ middle aged man you’ve ever seen and driving my friends insane about it. 

where were you born? Rural Australia 

what are your hobbies? Thirsting over men on the internet, going to as many musicals and concerts as humanly possible, having symphony season tickets, looking at my instruments saying ‘I’ll play again one day’, buying books I don’t have time to read. 

do you have any pets? Not with me, sadly. My parents have my 12 year old ginger cat (baby boyyyy!) and 8 year old black cat (who’s decided he hates me since I moved away a few years ago). I MISS MY PETS! 

how tall are you? 5'4

fave subject in school? Music, English, Biology 

dream job? I do not dream of labour, I do dream of travelling. In fantasy, an orchestral musician who plays for film scores. In reality, I’m aiming for a genetic counselling masters and think it’ll be fulfilling! Also the typical ‘I want to own a book store/record store/florist/bakery/cafe in one’. Is that a burnout symptom???

eye colour? Blue

i'm double tagging @formationlaps (no pressure ofc!) and tagging anyone else who wants to let me be nosy! 

[captainmarsupial]

i hate daylight savings.

i keep thinking it's already wednesday which is annoying. anyway i forgot to update in over a week but ive been up to a few things!

last week on wednesday i went to the symphony with ravi! i've only been to the symphony three times in my life, &twice were with ravi. i guess four times if you count the time i saw the symphony free in a park. anyway, we had each gotten an extra ticket so i invited kristen since she lives right nearby &appreciates that kind of art.

i met her at her place &we had dinner + drinks before heading to the symphony hall. it was this violinist's recital so they only seated people in the orchestra, but it was close to full. she was really good! my drink hit me around the end of the first piece, which was kind of a trip. my favorite piece she played was saint-saens' introduction and rondo capriccioso. she played it so intensely some of the hair on her bow broke mid-performance and she just kept on playing. tbh i wish i could play violin so badly. i know it's "never too late to learn" so maybe i will look into lessons after all.

for the weekend i took friday off and went home. i literally loooove taking a day off lmao. i got locked out of my house so i walked nearly 3 miles around the neighborhood until my sister was heading home to let me in. in the evening we took a pottery workshop & i made a cup, an incense tray and some chopsticks holders :] i really hope they survive in the kiln because i would love to see how they turn out with the glazes i picked. that night marty came over literally to marinate kalbi with my brother lmao. it was nice to have company.

on saturday the rest of the boys came over to golf with my brother. i had the day to myself so i literally just played persona, watched kyuhyun's vlogs &evil maknae compilations on youtube, &then when my sister got home we went to the mall + michaels. i was tryna find the jjk figurines at miniso but i think i missed my chance.. i shoulda just bought them when i saw them the other week.. TT-TT buuut, i did get new yarn to crochet a tote bag! i picked purple+orange, and so far it looks really snazzy :]

in the evening the boys made the kalbi &it was soo good. i do feel kinda bad always mooching off the food they make after golf. BUT i did buy some eclairs and a tart from toni's cousin &then shared with them, so maybe i did make a contribution after all. my stomach and heart were full after.

&now this week.. i've been soo thrown off by the stupid time change. it's nice to have more sunlight after work &to be able to take evening walks! but i keep oversleeping and sleeping late. it prob doesn't help that i'm in a funk at the same time. oh well. tbh i think im going to take this friday off too because i can't stand anything right now &being at work drives me nuts. it's supposed to be sunny so maybe i'll go to santa cruz or something to regain my sanity lol. AHHHHHHHH

[bethannangel]

RomCom (and Dram) Sprint 2024

List in letterboxd and written out under the read more

List of all movies considered in letterboxd and under the read more

RomCom (and Dram) Sprint

January 14 - Set It Up (Netflix)

January 15 - La La Land (Netflix til Jan 31)

January 16 - Two Can Play That Game (prime)

January 17 - Call Me By Your Name (Netflix til Jan 23)

January 18 - Monster-In-Law (rent)

January 19 - All Of Us Strangers (theater)

January 20 - Which Brings Me To You (theater) OR The Hating Game (Hulu)

January 21 - Om Shanti Om (Netflix)

January 22 - Plus One (Hulu/Roku)

January 23 - Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (Netflix)

January 24 - Beautiful Disaster (Hulu)/Beautiful Wedding (theater) double feature

January 25 - Little Manhattan (Hulu/Disney+)

January 26 - Chasing Amy (prime/paramount+)

January 27 - Love & Other Drugs (rent)

January 28 - Love & Basketball (paramount+)

January 29 - The Notebook (Hulu)

January 30 - Serendipity (Max)

January 31 - Think Like A Man (prime)

February 1 - Jerry Maguire (spectrum)

February 2 - While You Were Sleeping (Disney+)

February 3 - Breakfast at Tiffany’s (paramount+) / His Girl Friday (prime)

February 4 - My Fair Lady (theater) OR How To Be Single (Hulu)

February 5 - Guess Who (Roku)

February 6 - Meet Cute (peacock)

February 7 - Two Night Stand (spectrum/tubi/Pluto/starz) / The Spectacular Now (Max)

February 8 - Lisa Frankenstein (theater)

February 9 - Mississippi Masala (theater/criterion/rent) OR Crazy Rich Asians (Netflix)

February 10 - Never Been Kissed (starz)

February 11 - The Broken Hearts Gallery (starz)

February 12 - There’s Something About Mary (starz)

February 13 - Brown Sugar (starz)

February 14 - Before Sunrise/Before Sunset (double feature/theater/rent)

February 15 - Before Midnight (rent)

Most on this list I haven’t seen. I have seen Set It Up, How To Be Single, Crazy Rich Asians and Never Been Kissed (but I was like 11 when I last saw it).

All Movies considered

Ones I haven’t seen

My Best Friends Wedding (Netflix/starz)

When Harry Met Sally (rent)

It’s Complicated (Netflix)

Mamma Mia double feature (Netflix)

American Symphony (Netflix)

Four Weddings and a Funeral (hoopla)

Brokeback Mountain (rent)

(500) Days of Summer (max/hoopla)

It Happened One Night (1934) (Tubi)

Sleepless In Seattle (rent)

Shit House (rent)

The Wedding Date (rent)

About Time (rent)

She’s All That (Netflix)

Can’t Buy Me Love (rent)/Love Don’t Cost A Thing (rent) double feature

Heavy (Netflix)

This is 40 (Netflix)

Moonstruck (hoopla)

Say Anything… (rent)

The Princess Bride (Disney+)

The Best Man (rent)

Kissing Jessica Stein (rent)

The Wedding Singer (rent)

How Stella Got Her Groove back (rent)

The Wedding Planner (prime)

What If (showtime)

Annie Hall (max)

Pretty in Pink (paramount)

Pretty Woman (fubo)

Ghost (max)

She’s the Man (Netflix)

Dirty Dancing (Hulu/paramount)

Sixteen Candles (Netflix)

Sweet Home Alabama (peacock)

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (rent)

Friends with Benefits (rent)/No Strings attached (rent) double feature

The Best of Me (starz)

The Vow (Netflix)

Stay the Night (rent)

The Shop Around the Corner(rent)/You’ve Got Mail (rent) double feature

Punch Drunk Love (hoopla)

Ones I have seen

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Hulu)

Something borrowed (rent)

The Half of It (Netflix)

Palm Springs (Hulu)

27 Dresses (Hulu)

The Prince & Me (max)

To All the Boys (1st one only) (Netflix)

Ticket to Paradise (Prime)

Red, White & Royal Blue (prime)

Bride Wars (max)

Crazy, Stupid, Love (rent)

13 Going On 30 (Netflix/hoopla)

Small Axe: Lovers Rock (Prime)

The Worst Person In The World (Hulu)

Holidate (Netflix)

Notting Hill (prime)

10 Things I Hate About You (Disney+)

No Hard Feelings (Netflix)

Spoiler Alert (Prime/Peacock)

Always Be My Maybe (Netflix)

Bros (Prime/Peacock)

Rye Lane (Hulu)

The Proposal (peacock)

How to Lose a Guy in 10 days (paramount+)

[dorefasolsido]

26. This is Halloween, everybody make a scene

Are you excited it's October?!

Yeees, oh I'm really feeling the vibes this year. 

Have the leaves started changing yet where you live? 🍁

Hmm, I actually think not yet. Or if they have, it's still very much unnoticeable.

Do you prefer pumpkin spice or apple cinnamon? 🎃🍎

I've never tried pumpkin spice, but apple cinnamon sounds like something I'd love more either way.

Have you worn a sweatshirt yet this fall?

Yup. 

What is the normal temperature range during fall where you live?

Well that really changed in the past few years. It used to be between 10 and 20 degrees Celsius, sometimes a bit above 20, but nowadays it's usually between 20 and 30.

...and where do you live?

Serbia.

At what temperature do you normally start wearing gloves? 🧤

I don't know, when it starts snowing usually. Or sometimes I wear them earlier, but only because I love my fingerless gloves and would literally wear them all the time if I could.

Have you worn a scarf yet this fall? 🧣

I don't usually wear scarves.

What is your favorite leaf color? 🍁

Red.

Is your birthday in the fall, and if so, which month?

Nope, I'm a summer kid.

Will you decorate with pumpkins this year? 🎃

Not with real ones. We don't technically celebrate Halloween, I just do little things to mark it for myself.

Do you have fall allergies? 🤧 🍁

Nope.

What is your favorite type of tree in the fall? 🍁 🍂

I have no idea.

Have you worn a sweater yet this fall?

Nope, not yet.

What's the most frustrating thing that's happened to you recently?

I wanted to buy tickets for this anime symphony thingy because I attended last year and it was so cool. But apparently everyone heard about it this year and all tickets were sold out by the time I checked the website :)))

Are you going to be celebrating Halloween this year? 👻

In my own way. Watch some horror films, attend midnight horror showings hopefully. I wanted to do a Dracula tour to Transylvania for Halloween but decided to put that off for November instead.

...and if so, do you know what you are going to be yet?

I'm not going to wear a costume.

What are three things you hope to accomplish this fall?

Hmm, finish translating the book I started, go to Transylvania, and I don't know what else. I guess just do what I always do.

Do you make bucket lists for each season?

Nope.

...and have you made a fall bucket list?

Nope.

What are three things you are thankful for?

My family (including my cat), my friends, and I guess being able to pursue what I love.

What color pants are you wearing today?

Now I'm wearing black and white striped pajama shorts.

Do you enjoy wearing fall colors?

Not particularly. I love fall fashion though.

What is your favorite fall drink? 🧋

Hot chocolate. Maybe that's more of a winter drink, but that's my favourite either way.

Have you ever had pumpkin spice pancakes? 🥞🎃

Nope.

What is your favorite type of pie to eat on Thanksgiving? 🥧

I don't have Thanksgiving. But aside from that, my favourite is apple pie.

Will you be celebrating Thanksgiving with anyone this year?

Nope.

Have you ever spent Thanksgiving Day alone?

Probably, considering we don't celebrate it.

Do you like to eat turkey? 🦃

Yup.

Would you rather decorate with scarecrows or skeletons?

I think skeletons.

Do you think you will put a mask on a skeleton, scarecrow, or pumpkin this year? 🎃 😷

I won't put on any of those.

Have you ever drank Pumpkin Spice Apple Cider?

Nope.

Do you enjoy drinking chai lattes? ☕��

Yeah, there is one I tried and really liked.

Which name do you like best for a girl: Harvest, Autumn, October, Maple, or Ember?

Maybe Ember or Autumn.

Have you ever met anyone named Apple? 🍎

Nope

Have you ever met anyone named Ember? 💥

Also nope.

Do you enjoy bonfires in the fall? 🪵🔥

I've never really seen anyone make bonfires in the fall. I guess that must be an American thing?

What color is your favorite zip-up hoodie?

I don't have a zip-up hoodie.

What color is your favorite pullover hoodie?

Black. 

Have you ever walked through a haunted house? 🏚 👻

Yes, and it was fun. I wish it was scarier, though.

Have you ever been on a haunted hayride?

I'm not entirely sure what that is, but sounds like something I'd enjoy.

How close is the nearest cemetery to you? 🪦

It's like five minutes away. You literally just walk down the hill and there it is.

When was the last time you visited a cemetery? 🪦

Last November when I attended my friend's dad's funeral.

What was the last disturbing death you heard about? 🪦

Well, the only thing that comes to mind is what my sister told me on Friday. She had one of her medical classes and they had to inspect a suicide victim's body. Obviously, I don't know the guy and neither does she, but yeah.

Do you believe it is possible to resurrect the dead? 💀

Probably not.

Have you ever done the Thriller dance? 🕺

Nope.

Would you rather dress up as a unicorn or vampire? 🦄 🧛

Vampire. 

....a princess or a zombie? 👸🧟‍♂️

Zombie. 

....a ghost or a scarecrow? 👻 🌾

Ghost.

What is the coolest Halloween costume you think you've ever seen?

I’ve only really seen Halloween costumes online, but nothing comes to mind now.

What is your favorite type of Halloween candy? 🍬

I don't know.

Will you put purple or orange lights up this year?

Neither, but man, I'd love some purple lights.

Do you own a string of pumpkin lights? 🎃

Nope, I'd love that too though.

What is one thing you are looking forward to wearing this fall? 🧣👢

Hoodies, jackets, boots.

Do you own a pair of leopard-print boots? 👢🐆

Nope.

Have you ever been to Canada in the fall? 🇨🇦

I've never been to Canada.

When was the last time you built a blanket fort?

I don't remember, I was a kid when I last built one.

Do you own a dreamcatcher?

Nope.

Are there any fall crafts you plan to complete this year? 🫙🍁

Hmm, I have no plans to make any crafts, but that might come spontaneously.

What is your favorite thing you own that has feathers on it? 🪶

I don't think I have anything with feathers.

Would you rather visit a pumpkin patch or a cider mill? 🎃🍎

Pumpkin patch. 

Do prefer to drink apple cider hot or cold?

Hot.

Would you rather decorate a scary pumpkin or a pretty pumpkin? 🎃

Any pumpkin, tbh.

Which name do you like best for a cat: Pumpkin, Chestnut, Cinnamon, Nutmeg, or October? 🐈

I like October for a cat.

What is your favorite lipstick color to wear in the fall? 💄

I don’t wear lipstick, so I can't tell what's fall-appropriate. 

Do you have red hair? 👩‍🦰

Well, it's purple, but since it washed out a lot, it has this reddish tone to it.

What is one book you would say is a good read for fall? 📕

Pet Sematary. That book really has that Halloween spooky feel for me.

Have you ever gone camping in the fall? ⛺️

Nope, I've never gone camping.

What three things are you most looking forward to this fall?

The Fall of House Usher, horror films, my trip to Transylvania.

What is your biggest fear?

Hmm

What scares you the most about Halloween?

Halloween doesn't scare me, it's fun.

Have you ever been to a Halloween-themed dance? 💃 🎃

Nope.

Have you ever made pumpkin bread? 🍞 🎃

Nope.

When was the last time you ate corn? 🌽

I feel like it was sometime this year, but I'm really not sure.

Do you own a plaid flannel shirt?

Yes.

What color are your favorite boots to wear in the fall? 👢

Black.

Do you own a pair of maple leaf earrings? 🍁

Nope

Have you ever been on a fall retreat?

Nah.

And last but not least, did you enjoy this survey?

Sure, it was fun.

[my-weird-news]

🔥 Taylor Swift Drops 1989 (Taylor’s Version) Bombshell! 🎵

Taylor Swift's Encore Extravaganza: The 1989 Remix Revolution Oh, buckle up, folks, because Taylor Swift is back with more remixes than a DJ at a wedding trying to make 'Macarena' sound fresh! 🎵 She's just dropped the bombshell that she's diving headfirst into the time machine to rerecord her iconic 1989 album. Yep, you read that right! It's like she's hitting Ctrl+Z on her own music career and saying, "I can do better. Watch me." And the announcement? Oh, it's Taylor Swift being Taylor Swift, the queen of "I'll release my news on a day that holds the secret code to my favorite candy." 🍬 On August 9th, the ninth day of the eighth month, during her sold-out Eras tour, she drops this nugget of musical magic on us. Seriously, Taylor, are you performing a concert or cracking the Enigma code? Now, if you're not up to speed, Swift started this wild ride of rerecorded tunes back in 2021 with Fearless (Taylor's Version). You remember 2008, right? When most of us were bopping to the Black Eyed Peas and pretending to know how to Dougie? Well, Taylor's giving it a 2021 makeover. Then she unleashed Red (Taylor's Version) because apparently, she had more feelings to express than a teenager in detention. But wait, it gets better! She's back in the studio chair for Speak Now (Taylor's Version). I mean, is there a version of Taylor that isn't hers at this point? The answer is "1989," the year she becomes Swift squared. 🤯 But let's rewind a bit. Picture this: it's 2019, and guess who's got a shiny new toy? Scooter Braun! He gets Taylor's old record label, Big Machine Records, and all her master recordings like he's got the golden ticket to the music factory. Now, if you've seen any superhero movie, you know what happens when the villain gets his hands on all the powerful stuff. Taylor Swift went, "Oh, no, you didn't!" and set out on her mission to hit the rewind button. Enter the rerecording revolution! Taylor's like, "Hey, Scooter, remember all those songs you think you own? Well, I'm just gonna redo them, and you can't stop me." It's like she's making musical clones, but they're all better dressed and have fewer Scooter-related problems. 🕺 You see, Taylor's got a new record label, Republic Records, and she's got some serious contract-fu going on. She's like, "I'll take my old hits and make 'em new again, and this time, they're mine." The music world equivalent of flipping your childhood home and making it fabulous. 💃 But while all this musical mayhem is happening, Taylor's not just twiddling her thumbs during the pandemic. Nah, she's not knitting sweaters or baking banana bread like the rest of us. She's busy surprise-dropping albums like it's a game of musical roulette. Folklore? Check. Evermore? Double-check. It's like she's trying to single-handedly outdo the pandemic with a symphony of songs. So, here we are, folks. Taylor Swift's putting the "re" in "record," and it's like she's playing a life-sized game of Monopoly, buying up all her old hits and showing Scooter Braun who's boss. And just when you thought your playlist was safe, she drops the 1989 bombshell. Brace yourselves, because Taylor Swift's rewriting history, one song at a time. 🎶# Taylor Swift's Encore Extravaganza: The 1989 Remix Revolution Oh, buckle up, folks, because Taylor Swift is back with more remixes than a DJ at a wedding trying to make 'Macarena' sound fresh! 🎵 She's just dropped the bombshell that she's diving headfirst into the time machine to rerecord her iconic 1989 album. Yep, you read that right! It's like she's hitting Ctrl+Z on her own music career and saying, "I can do better. Watch me." And the announcement? Oh, it's Taylor Swift being Taylor Swift, the queen of "I'll release my news on a day that holds the secret code to my favorite candy." 🍬 On August 9th, the ninth day of the eighth month, during her sold-out Eras tour, she drops this nugget of musical magic on us. Seriously, Taylor, are you performing a concert or cracking the Enigma code? Now, if you're not up to speed, Swift started this wild ride of rerecorded tunes back in 2021 with Fearless (Taylor's Version). You remember 2008, right? When most of us were bopping to the Black Eyed Peas and pretending to know how to Dougie? Well, Taylor's giving it a 2021 makeover. Then she unleashed Red (Taylor's Version) because apparently, she had more feelings to express than a teenager in detention. But wait, it gets better! She's back in the studio chair for Speak Now (Taylor's Version). I mean, is there a version of Taylor that isn't hers at this point? The answer is "1989," the year she becomes Swift squared. 🤯 But let's rewind a bit. Picture this: it's 2019, and guess who's got a shiny new toy? Scooter Braun! He gets Taylor's old record label, Big Machine Records, and all her master recordings like he's got the golden ticket to the music factory. Now, if you've seen any superhero movie, you know what happens when the villain gets his hands on all the powerful stuff. Taylor Swift went, "Oh, no, you didn't!" and set out on her mission to hit the rewind button. Enter the rerecording revolution! Taylor's like, "Hey, Scooter, remember all those songs you think you own? Well, I'm just gonna redo them, and you can't stop me." It's like she's making musical clones, but they're all better dressed and have fewer Scooter-related problems. 🕺 You see, Taylor's got a new record label, Republic Records, and she's got some serious contract-fu going on. She's like, "I'll take my old hits and make 'em new again, and this time, they're mine." The music world equivalent of flipping your childhood home and making it fabulous. 💃 But while all this musical mayhem is happening, Taylor's not just twiddling her thumbs during the pandemic. Nah, she's not knitting sweaters or baking banana bread like the rest of us. She's busy surprise-dropping albums like it's a game of musical roulette. Folklore? Check. Evermore? Double-check. It's like she's trying to single-handedly outdo the pandemic with a symphony of songs. So, here we are, folks. Taylor Swift's putting the "re" in "record," and it's like she's playing a life-sized game of Monopoly, buying up all her old hits and showing Scooter Braun who's boss. And just when you thought your playlist was safe, she drops the 1989 bombshell. Brace yourselves, because Taylor Swift's rewriting history, one song at a time. 🎶 Read the full article

[hotflatrock]

Midsummer Mozart Festival

The wife and I went into the Year of the Concert naively. We have been uncommonly organized in tracking events we want to see in order to avoid conflicts. But we would find a show we wanted to see, whether together or separately, and we would buy the tickets, mark it as “acquired” on our tracking spreadsheet, and wait for the show.

While this is often the right approach for more popular shows, we learned along the way such haste is not necessary for the lesser acts that fill out our wish list. Ticketmaster will offer occasional deals with no fees (which can be a huge savings), and other venues offer various value packages.

While I had been familiar with Mountain Winery in Saratoga for decades, last year was the first time I ever went there, to separately see Boyz II Men and Sarah McLaughlin. In my younger days, I had mocked the venue for its roster of has-been artists, but I have found I have aged smack into their demographic. Now, I can’t get enough of the wares they have to offer.

Mountain Winery has a Loyalty Club, and the only membership requirement to join the club is to purchase tickets to 4 separate concerts in one season. Among the benefits of the club are free tickets to certain shows. I was dubious that this offer would be offered regularly, but since I ticked over the 4 show threshold, I have seen 5 separate freebie offers cross my inbox, and I’m eyeballing a few others in hope they are offered. But the only one I have accepted thus far is the Midsummer Mozart Festival.

Starting from the time I saw Amadeus as a child, I have loved Mozart’s symphonies and operas. Having played violin for a few years as a youth, I found he was a master at showcasing violins in a way that really inspired me.

I took my mother as a surprise treat. She and my father used to regularly attend small classical concert opportunities, frequenting the lunch time shows that were put on at Hertz Hall in Berkeley in previous years. But since my father passed, she has not been to any concerts. This opportunity was too ripe to pass up, and we made the last minute decision to take Mountain Winery up on their offer.

 I picked her up, we used her ADA parking pass, and rode the shuttle down to the concert facility, and took their new lift down the final hill. The exit experience was just as simple and accessible. It was night and day experience from Alameda County Fairgrounds in terms of the services they offer those with mobility difficulties.

 It turns out the concert was not in the typical seating pavilion at Mountain Winery but was instead held on a patio off to the side, with the small audience (probably less than 200 people) sitting in folding chairs. The view from the patio was lovely, as was the music. The 20-ish member orchestra played a short Mozart symphony before the intermission and closed with a hilarious mini-opera. Called Bastien und Bastienne, it is one of Mozart’s earlier operas.

Mom had a great time, and I really can’t begin to express my gratitude to Mountain Winery for making it possible for free. You have a devoted new fan, Mountain Winery.

[trapangeles]

Japan's Love for CDs Still Strong After 40 Years

Yo, it's been forty years since the first compact disc dropped, but CD sales in Japan still hold strong, even with all the online streaming services out there.

Back in the day, people loved CDs for their ease of use, but nowadays, fans buy them to show support for their favorite artists or as collector's items.

The first CDs to hit Japan were Billy Joel's "52nd Street" and Eiichi Otaki's "A Long Vacation" on Oct. 1, 1982. They were only 12 centimeters in diameter, making them smaller and lighter than vinyl records, which were the go-to before CDs took over.

One of the big benefits of CDs was that they eliminated the crackling and hissing that came with analog formats like tape and vinyl.

Philips and Sony worked together to develop CD technology, but they had different ideas about the specs. Philips wanted CDs to hold 60 minutes of music and have an 11.5 cm diameter, while Sony pushed for a 12 cm diameter and 75 minutes of music to fit Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 on one disc. The standard CD format hasn't changed since then, even though there have been other types of CDs developed over the years, like 8 cm discs and Blu-spec CDs that have higher fidelity.

Hirofumi Nakayama, Vice President of Sony Music Studios Tokyo, said, "It proves that the specs that were initially decided were not wrong. The sound quality suits human ears. That’s why they’ve been loved for so long."

CDs overtook analog records in 1987 in Japan and reached a peak of ¥587.8 billion in 1998. Since then, CD sales have fallen gradually, partly because of online music distribution. In 2021, the market was worth about ¥123.2 billion, only about a fifth of the peak value.

Despite the rise of streaming services worldwide, physical formats like CDs and records are still popular in Japan. In the US, CDs and records only made up 10% of music revenue in 2021, but in Japan, they accounted for about 70%, more than twice as much as digital formats.

To cater to pop and K-pop fans, music labels often release different versions of CDs with alternate jackets, track lists, or event tickets. And CDs that have exclusive songs not available on streaming services can fetch high prices in the second-hand market.

Tower Records Japan Inc. has evolved over the years, adapting to the times. They used to sell CDs and records together, but by 1988, CDs had replaced most of the vinyl. In the 1990s, they had big stores with lots of genres, but in the 2000s, they opened smaller stores in malls focusing on Japanese artists. Nowadays, they target die-hard fans with special sections for selfies and mini concerts.

Masato Hasegawa, General Manager of the Retail Business Division of Tower Records Japan, said, "Consumers value CDs for reasons other than music, particularly in Japan. The market still exists."

Have you been spending all your money and time on making music and shooting videos, but still not getting any exposure? Tired of just spinning your wheels? You know to get exposure you need to get featured on blogs, radio stations, playlist, and get your music e-mail blasted out to the masses. Need help getting all that done? Then check out the Package we’ve made available for you below!

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[blackthunder137]

🎵Mystery of Love- Tell me who's concert would you like to attend and with whom. I'll make a short blurb for it with a few pics.

a two feet concert or a weeknd concert with draco:))

Do I know you?

Warnings- Cheesy pick-up lines; Cringy (Idk)

a/n- I LOVE THE WEEKND. I hope you like this. This is the love at first sight trope in the muggle universe. I hope you do like this! Enjoy :)

Draco Malfoy masterlist

You were excited to finally attend The Weeknd’s concert, which you had been looking forward to for a long time. You had your tickets and were getting ready to leave with a group of friends. You arrived home from work early and got dressed in attractive attire.

You arrived at the venue, grabbed a cup of juice, and two minutes into the performance, you were already engrossed in the song, melody, and symphony and were now swaying to this wonderful music when someone bumped into you and spilt all of your juice, and you exclaimed, "Hey, you spilt all my juice." When the person turned around, you were met by a handsome man.

He was dressed smartly in a black suit and had blond hair and grey eyes. Oh no, I didn't mean to do that, "he said," and you were captivated by his beauty. Those gleaming eyes. You could stare at them for hours if you wanted to. You had compelled yourself to leave your thoughts.

The blondie, on the other hand, was completely charmed by your beauty, and it had only been a split second since you had met him by chance. He couldn't believe what he saw when he realised he'd met an angel. There was something that drew you both together, and you were both puzzled as to why you were so attracted to each other.

"I mean, it’s okay, I guess," you answered, trying to get away from this situation as fast as possible. When his voice calls to you, "Wait!" You turned around, and he replied, "I could buy you another one if you want."

You glanced at him and replied, "No, thanks," and he went on, "I don't mind buying you another drink," he continued, "Besides, how can I keep an eye in front of me when a person as beautiful as you stands here?" You were stoned, and no words came out of your mouth. But everything was moving at such a rapid pace that you couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

The blondie simply giggled to relieve the stress, and you, too, burst out laughing. You were both smiling and looking into each other's eyes now. It was as if time had stood still; it was just the two of you, and after a few minutes of laughter, you came to a halt, remaining motionless for a few moments until you asked, "It feels like I've known you for a long time. Do I know you?" he answered, "I'm sure we've never met, but I feel like I've known you for a long time."It's strange in a way. Oh, and my name is Draco Malfoy, "he said as he extended his hand forward, and you replied, "I am y/n y/l/n." You two exchanged handshakes.

His hands were cold, and the moment they contacted yours, it was an exhilarating sensation that you'd never forget. It felt so right. Everything seemed to be in order. You're at a concert and meet a stranger. You feel like you've known him for a long time and would like to know more about him.

"Do you suppose we'll meet again? I have to buy you a cup of juice to make it up to you," Draco inquired. "I'd love to talk to you and possibly spend time with you." "How about we two go grab a cup of coffee tomorrow at 6? I'm familiar with a well-known café, and you can buy me a cup of juice too," you said, giving him a small smile. "That sounds cool," he said, with a chuckle. "Then I'll see you," he remarked as he walked towards his mates.

You were looking forward to meeting him tomorrow. Maybe you two were destined to meet each other.

Tags- @thehalfbloodedwitch @siriusblackstwin @miss-celestial-being @pottahishotasf @nicofiliac @kazscrow @chickencouncilrep @ackerfem

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May's music therapy 🎶

[multifandomwhore-003]

The Black Dahlia²

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Heyward! female! black! reader

Summary: Y/N Heyward is America’s promise for the Olympics… when she gets in.

Genre(s): Angst, fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of racism.

Gif credits to whom it belongs

Playlist!

Part one on the masterlist! 𓆉︎𝙹𝙹 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𓆉︎ REQUESTS OPEN, REQUEST HERE THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK Reblog if you like

In an unfortunate turn of events, the Heyward men managed to ask a favor and get to the island in the boat of an acquaintance, their phones didn't have service and therefore they couldn't cancel on JJ, arriving at the ice rink, the first thing that was heard was yelling, over, and over, and over again. Now, the family was alone on the bleachers.

"I don't care how you're gonna do it, but you better not see that that boy again," his voice was low, strong, and firm, he scoffed, "Out of all the men in this vast island you choose the worst option possible, a white boy, and not just any white boy, a junkie no-good from the southside, a Maybank,"

"Dad-" Pope tried to defend his friend.

"You better shut up boy, and if anything of this conversation comes out of your mouth, I'mma buy you the first ticket to Atlanta with uncle Charlie so you can start working on the restaurant, goodbye scholarship forever,"

Pope clenched his jaw.

"I'm very disappointed, in both of you, you for luring your little friend into this," he pointed at your brother, "and you for playing along," he pointed at you.

"It's not her fault," Pope argued.

"Then who's fault is it?"

"Mine," he stood up and you widened your eyes, "I called JJ on purpose,"

"And why the hell would you do that?"

"Because she needed it,"

"What she needs is to focus on the Olympics, and now thanks to you she's gonna be all lost and confused,"

"And what about it? She needed a distraction!"

"You don't get to decide that!"

"Then stop treating her like some fucking robot!"

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are! She's done everything you've asked her this entire time and she's never said no! Why do you think she's not saying anything right now?! One time! One time she's gone out of line and suddenly she's the worst person to ever walk this earth! All she's heard for the past months is your non-stop barking of how bad she's doing! Did you seriously think that was gonna help her?! Spoiler alert! It doesn't," Pope was now panting, "I called JJ because I knew he would make her feel better, so if you wanna blame someone, blame me, and I don't care if you send me to fucking Atlanta, I did what had to be done, and I'll do it again,"

Silence. From the last word he spoke to the ride home, the whole island perfectly coordinated to cease its usual hysteria, the radio signal only played a rather calm soundtrack that sounded disgusting in comparison to the furious symphony inside them that deafened everything and everyone. After settling the fact that his son had yelled at him, Heyward began the fight again, and even through the wooden walls, the shouting was clear. Your mouth stayed shut, no matter how many times they insisted on hearing your opinion, you were frigid, just standing there like a statue, you weren't brave enough to speak.

The morning light hit your face waiting for the opening of the chilling place, you had decided to get out before you would have to wake up to another endless fight, you did appreciate Pope standing up for you, but that was the last thing you wanted, you had to make it stop.

"Y/N, hi," JJ arrived earlier than you thought, he wasn't exactly an early bird, "Everything alright? Why'd you call me so early?"

"I'm sorry about yesterday," you grinned.

"It's okay, I knew what I was getting into," he shrugged.

You nodded while taking a deep breath, "It can't happen again," you looked to your side, it hurt you more to say it than it probably did him to hear it, "It was a mistake,"

"Mistakes are my thing," he got close to you.

"Don't," you placed a hand on his chest, "I'm being serious JJ,"

"So was I," he smiled.

And you couldn't hold back repeating his action, "Look, my next competition is three months away, and if I don't win I won't be selected, I'm sorry, but I can't have anything else on my mind,"

"So, I'm on your mind?" he teased.

You sighed.

"You kissed me,"

"I know, which is why I don't want you to think that it'll happen again,"

"So you won't kiss me again?"

"No,"

"Alright," he raised his shoulders.

You were right to find his response odd because shortly after, he grabbed your waist pulling your lips together, as if it was a reflex, you hugged his neck. To put it in a rather pretentious way, it felt like a light, bright, ethereal, celestial, and all the beautiful words that you could think to describe how good it felt to make it better, only made it worse, because you were determined this was the last time you were gonna do it.

You separated from him pushing him off even though everything in you told you to do the exact opposite.

"You didn't say I couldn't kiss you again,"

"Well, I'm telling you right now that you can't," you spat, "This is the last thing I need, you are the last thing I need, I called you here so you wouldn't get confused thinking I have feelings for you because I don't"

"You're lying," he mumbled.

"I'm not, yesterday I was vulnerable and I cracked, of course I kissed you, you told me what I wanted to hear and I took advantage of it, I would've kissed anyone who would've done the same,"

"You're so lying out of your ass," he was right, but he was saying it more to himself, in the end, that's his way of dealing with things, deny, deny, deny.

"Why because I'm the only girl on the island who didn't fall for the scrubby charms of JJ Maybank? Sounds to me like you need to get your ego checked,"

"That kiss meant something and you know it!" he was losing his temper.

"Not to me," you tried not to scream, "I'm sorry that you feel this way, I really am, but whatever it is that you're dealing with it's not mutual,"

The door opened, cracking in unison with his heart.

"It's my fault that you thought it was, and I know it, but right now I'm making it very clear that it's not," you stepped back, "And you need to leave before my dad gets here, I don't want any more drama because of you," you turned to walk in.

He shook his head holding back the tears, good thing he had practice, "You know the only one you're lying to is yourself right?!"

You halted before the entrance.

"I don't believe shit of what you just said, you have feelings for me and I'm gonna prove it!" he began to step to the Twinkie, "JJ Maybank doesn't quit! Remember my words!"

You inhaled as hard as you could, your breath shaking, you placed your things aside and by the time you were tying your shoelaces you were crying in silence, your echo lightly gracing every seat surrounding you. Although JJ was one of the reasons for your tears, it wasn't everything. Before World War I, there was an armed peace, everyone was prepared for it, everyone was just impatiently waiting, filled with suspense, filled with anticipation, so much so that the battles from before didn't matter, the whole world knew this was 'The Great War'; then the killing of Austria's  Archduke was the perfect excuse, the ultimate spark that sooner rather than later went off in a gasoline ocean. And even then the human race didn't stop, millions were still moving forward, still working, still eating, still sleeping, no matter how much pain, misery, or heartbreak the rest were enduring, they were still moving forward.

Mercy, the cleaning lady always played classical music while sweeping the floor, she was always very closed and a little sour, but a perk that you found funny about her is how much she liked classical music, so much that while doing her morning shift she would basically blast it on the building's speakers. You tried with every bit of strength that was left in you to start practicing, yet you couldn't, your body was trembling, you felt almost obligated to do it, so you did, you let your limbs flow with the harmony that vibrated in every inch of your skin.

You were ten when Bach's Prelude in C major was the song your dad chose for that competition, but whenever you heard it, your mind didn't go to how it was your first first-place win, no, it went to all the times Pope brought along his quiet blonde friend who you learned, later on, he was actually really loud; it went to the first time you talked to him both of you as red as tomatoes; it went to the both of you gossiping and joking about your brother; it went to the both hiding in the locker room as Pope was looking for you; it went to all the times he would snatch flowers from the houses near the ice rink because he liked to stick them in your hair, 'It looks like one of those trees at the park!' he used to say; it went to how he gave you your first, yet non-technical, first kiss at your house after your victory in doing The Illusion spin for the first time.

You whimpered when the song finished, you wanted to play it again, you wanted to play it a million times, you wanted to go back to what you now thought were the happiest days of your life, to a time where things were uncomplicated, where you felt full, where you felt pure joy just bursting out of you.

Your dad hadn't shown up to your practice that week, and by the look on his face that morning he wouldn't go this one either.

"Let's go," Pope tapped your shoulder, he offered to drive you every day since the fight.

The tension in the house hadn't settled entirely, oh if looks could kill, at least the yelling had ceased.

"JJ told me what you said to him last week," he stopped the car.

"Oh god," you huffed.

"Why would you that?" he opened his door.

"Because, it's the truth," you got out of the truck.

He grimaced at you, "Sure," he said with sarcasm.

"It is," you insisted.

"I never said it wasn't, in fact, I agreed with you," he tried to outsmart you, "By the way, he told me to give you this,"  he uncovered the back of the vehicle.

You widened your eyes, "No fucking way," you whispered.

"Yeah, did you know Mrs. Velazquez can make more than quinceañera dresses? Apparently, JJ's mom lent her a shit ton of money back in the day and now he can ask for any favors he wants, and I was right, someday memorizing your measurements was gonna useful,"

A year ago the hit show 'Euphoria' had premiered, and in one of its most impactful episodes, Sydney Sweeney who played Cassie, was featured wearing a gorgeous teal dress that wasn't available in stores. You mentioned it once vaguely to him while you were walking around, you didn't think much of it at the time, it was something that naturally came out of you.

"I- I can't take that,"

"Why not?" Pope frowned.

"Because if I do he'll think it works, and I- I don't want that, please tell him that no matter how much he insists, I won't say yes,”

JJ Maybank doesn't quit. You learned it the hard way, and to be honest you were now intrigued about how much money Mrs. Velazquez owned the Maybanks because it wasn't one, two, or three dresses, for an entire month you were receiving almost on a daily basis, dress after dress. Your dad eventually had to use his truck and so now they were stored in a cardboard box at the side of your bed. They weren't just any dresses, you've had this album since you were five of all your favorite looks from all the figure skaters you've ever looked up to, you showed it to him two years ago after your and Pope's birthday party when all the pogues stayed for the night.

"Y/N!" Pope waved at you as he skated in, he once did a presentation on the physics behind figure skating, and not only did he study you to detail for an entire month, he was determined to learn at least the basics to get a better personal perspective.

You paused your headphones, "Hey," you spun to see him.

"Is that one of the dresses JJ gave you?"

"Maybe," you squinted your eyes.

"It looks good,"

"Thanks,"

"Tonya Harding 1994,"

"How much does Mrs. Velazquez owned his mom? There's no way this was cheap,"

Pope thought for a minute, "Like two mil, I think?"

"What?! How the fuck does that even happen?"

"Apparently she gave her all the money Luke made off boat racing, his son got arrested for something he didn't commit and she had to pay for bail,"

"A young man from a minority getting accused of a crime he didn't commit? I've never heard of that one before," your voice was filled with irony.

"I know, crazy," he played along.

"What were you gonna tell me?"

"What?" he got confused.

"You know, when you came here,"

"Oh, right, dad's staying on the Mainland for a couple more days,"

"Okay," you nodded, "Oh hey, what did JJ tell you? Did you talk to him?"

"Yep,"

"What did he say?"

"The same thing he's been saying for the past month,"

You groaned, "I'm not gonna ask him myself,"

"The more you avoid him, the more you're proving his point,"

"What should I do?" you rubbed your face.

"Just tell him to stop,"

"I can't do that,"

"I know, I know, I know, 'because if I see him again he'll know he's right'," he mocked you.

"I don't sound like that," you hit his shoulder.

"Yes you do, you're all like 'Oh look at me in my new dress that JJ Maybank gave me'," he fluttered his eyelashes.

"Shut up!"

"'And he gave it to me because he loves me so much, and I also love him but I won't tell him because I lowkey love the attention and I'm too much of a coward to actually admit my feelings'," he skated backward while saying it in a melodramatic tone.

"Oh, you better run," you followed him.

"'And if I see him, I'll fall for him all over again'"

"Ok, now you're dead," you both sped up.

The next month rolled around, and now your entire house smelt like a botanical garden, your mom was quite fond of it she said it brings life to space. Turns out the son JJ's mom saved from jail works as a gardener on the eight, and one of his many hobbies is doing flower arrangements. Your father had been roughly quiet all this time, so he hadn't really formed any opinions, mainly because he knew he wasn't gonna win against his wife.

"Pope," you sighed while putting yet another flower arrangement on the table, "You need to talk to JJ,"

"I've tried," he looked over his book.

"Then try again!"

"You know I ain't gonna do that, you on the on the other hand-"

"I hate you so much," you shook your head.

"You're gonna have to do it at some point, might as well just get it over with," he explained.

"Shit," you mumbled, "I fucking hate you," you grabbed the keys to your dad's truck.

"Me too,"

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Translated article: "Meetings with Shostakovich," Solomon Gershov

This is my original translation of an article originally published in Sovetskaya Muziyka (now Muzikalnaya Akademia), issue 12, 1988. As I am not a native Russian speaker, this translation may not be perfect; however, I have attempted to translate it to the best of my ability.

The original article: Встречи с Шостаковичем (mus.academy)

I want to start my short story about Shostakovich from afar. In our time, different people, for different reasons, have turned to me with questions about this, how, when in these circumstances, my meetings with Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich came together. At that time, I was young, an amateur artist, and Shostakovich was already a famous composer. Therefore, these questions were sometimes delivered with unambiguous notes of snobbishness and mockery. 

I had no relation to musical art, nor did I play any instruments. But that didn’t stop me from attending the concerts of the Leningrad Philharmonic, buying affordable entrance tickets, and listening to music, which opened to me a world of enchantment and beauty.

How then, after all, did my meeting with Shostakovich transpire? I was led to him at the house of the artist Boris Mikhailovich Erbshtein in the summer of 1929. (At that time, the ballet “The Red Poppy” was being staged at the Marinskiiy theatre, with Ulanova in the lead role.) Dmitri Dmitriyevich waited for us. He met us cordially. I managed to tell him a little about my modest success of my exhibition at the House of Art, not to mention the criticisms in the “Evening Krasnaya Gazeta” on a certain V. Gross.

Other meetings followed this one. I was well-received at his house. He lived there with his mother, Sofiya Vasilievna, and his two sisters, Maria Dmitriyevna and Zoya Dmitriyevna. I think it’s not a mistake for me to say they showed me some sympathy. 

Naturally, I wanted to paint Dmitri Dmitriyevich. But this proved to be a difficult task, as it was unbearable for him to sit still. A state of rest was organically alien to him, in view of his impulsiveness, mobility, even some nervousness. Still, it’s a wonder that Kustodiev could sketch a portrait of Shostakovich at the time when he was a boy, with his restlessness.

And yet I contrived to make an outline with the nature of the moment, when Dmitri Dmitriyevich was resting on the black leather couch, occupying three quarters of the area of the little office.

I showed him these little drawings sometimes. To tell the truth, they didn’t particularly move him, which didn’t affect my further attempts to draw him again and again. Unfortunately, a large amount of the drawings were lost for reasons I was not responsible for. Maybe some are left, which I gave to friends.

Our meetings in those years were mainly saturated with conversations about art, first of all about music and the people who created it. Among the many topics we touched on, I remember Beethoven. I was very interested to find out his opinion on the Heiligenstadt testament.

“Do you know what the most surprising thing about it is?” he said. ”In my opinion, it is that his Second Symphony was already written after the testament, and he finished it in C major.” After many years, when Shostakovich’s 13th Symphony appeared, it seemed no less amazing to me that the finale he wrote was also in this emotional key. 

We talked about the tendency towards atonality in music and the destruction of melody. Due to my commitment towards Beethoven, Bach, and Mozart, Shostakovich’s music seemed difficult to me the first time I heard it. Only when Mahler, Bruckner, Hindemith, Berg gradually grew closer to me did I understand his work. I was candid with him, and he was not offended by me. He said, “listen to more music, and different [music].”

We argued about literature. He was mainly occupied with Gogol, Saltykov-Shchedrin, Leskov. He really appreciated Kozma Prutkov and often quoted him. He loved that place where the following is said: “[while] throwing pebbles in the water, look at the circles they form; otherwise, such an activity would be idle sport.” (note- orig. «Бросая в воду камешки, смотри на кругу, ими образуемые, иначе такое заняте будет пустой забавою») I paid attention to his enthusiasm in his view on literature, which was characterized by the grotesque, satire, and sharp metaphors.

But one such interesting detail: Since childhood, the book “Tom Sawyer” by Mark Twain was on his table. Doesn’t that mean that something childish and mischievous sits in the depths of the soul of even a very serious genius?

Somehow, Dmitri Dmitriyevich invited me to the movie theater to see a film starring Buster Keaton, an actor whom, along with Charlie Chaplin, he was very interested in. The movie theater was located on Vosstaniya street (formerly Znamenskaya). The film brought us much pleasure. The tragic essence of Buster Keaton was constant with Shostakovich’s own mood.

On the way home, he suddenly said to me, “come home with me for a short while.” “Home” represented the character of Petersburg at the end of the century. We went through the front door, ascended to the fourth floor, and Dmitri Dmitriyevich turned on the light, and I saw that the main thing in the room was the grand piano. Without a word, he went to the piano and began to play Chopin’s Seventh Waltz. The waltz sounded marvelously beautiful, touching at the occasional rest. Then, we left immediately. 

Outside, I timidly asked him, “what is that room you have? We’ve never heard anything about it.” He answered that it was necessary for him to have a place where he could work in privacy…

I wanted to ask him why exactly he played Chopin, since it seemed that all of his musical works were very far from the spirit of Chopin’s music. But I calculated that the conversation was heading in an uncomfortable direction. I never visited that room again, but the episode has always stayed in my memory.

I knew that Dmitri Dmitriyevich was interested in the circus. Once, I invited him to see a performance by the famous strongman Chekhovsky. Shostakovich willingly agreed.

Jugglers, gymnasts, clowns, and trained dogs all performed in the first act. But with a particular impatience, we, like the whole audience, waited for the second act with Chekhovsky. His performance looked like this: He lay down completely flat in the arena, with a pretty big wooden shield over his chest. An automobile rolled over the shield, crowded with passengers, and afterwards, to the delight of the crowd, he got up as if nothing had happened. Then, he put a long iron pole on his shoulders, from which hung about ten people- or twelve! With all this cargo, the performer made circles from one side, then to the other. 

Why do I recount these episodes? I want to cancel the perception that Dmitri Dmitriyevich only saw the world from outside the window of his office. He loved life in all its manifestations.

For those who knew Dmitri Dmitriyevich closely, it’s no secret that he was a very cheerful person, loved sharp words, and appreciated this in others. 

In 1934, I went to Moscow. Thus, our communication was cut off. If we saw each other, it was only occasionally, at some concert already in Moscow. Only in the war years did our meetings resume. I lived at the time in evacuation in Novosibirsk, where Dmitri Dmitriyevich visited from time to time. In Novosibirsk, it’s well-known that the Leningrad Philharmonic orchestra evacuated there, led by Mravinsky and Kurt Sanderling. Ivan Ivanovich Sollertinsky also lived there with his family.

After the premiere of the Seventh Symphony in Moscow (1942), Kuibyshev, and Leningrad, Mravinsky prepared hard for it with his orchestra in Novosibirsk. I remember the first performance of the symphony in the hall of the Novosibirsk Philharmonic. The concert was a great success. I was amazed by what I’d heard. Present at the concert was Shostakovich himself, whom the hall enthusiastically greeted.

In 1944, Ivan Ivanovich suddenly died in Novosibirsk. His death produced a heavy impression on all who knew him. In the hall of the Philharmonic, a civil memorial service took place, where an enormous number of people gathered. I had to paint Ivan Ivanovich lying in the coffin. Later, in 1945, when the composer Georgiy Vasilievich Sviridov went to Leningrad, I asked him to give the painting to Shostakovich. Only after many years, when Sviridov was at my house (he came for a portrait of Shostakovich, which I decided to give him as one of Dmitri Dmitriyevich's closest friends), I asked him: "Did you give the painting of the deceased Sollertinsky to Dmitri Dmitriyevich?" And he answered me: "I kept it to myself." I understood him, and wasn't offended. Maybe he didn't want to cause Shostakovich even more pain.

Another small memory of the pre-war years. In Moscow 1938-39, there was a general meeting of arts workers at the capital on the so-called formalism in the works of musical and theatrical figures. I remember the speech of one orator- a music teacher. When, later, I asked Shostakovich his opinion on the speech, he, not thinking, answered, “what one composer says about another composer can be said without being a composer.” 

After the war, I returned to Moscow. One time, Shostakovich and I happened to meet outside. Dmitri Dmitriyevich was interested in what I was up to. I told him everything in detail. He left me his telephone number and asked me to somehow go with him.

I was surprised by his huge apartment in a building not far from the “Ukraine” hotel- almost without furniture. My attention was drawn to a portrait of the composer pictured at the piano- a gift by a Czech artist. His lifelike portrait did not especially produce an impression on me. But hung around it were others which I recalled- a portrait painted by Kustodiev, whose work I liked.

My meetings with Dmitri Dmitriyevich were broken off after then for a long time (until 1956). Letters rarely came to me from him. In one of them, he asked me to report to him in detail on the death of Boris Mikhailovich Erbshtein, our mutual friend. I fulfilled his request, but added that I was finishing a cycle of twenty works, dedicated to his Seventh Symphony.

I don’t know if other artists have attempted to depict the Seventh Symphony in paintings. But I got to work with great zeal. This applied not only to the period of the Great Patriotic War, but also the fascist invasion of Europe that started, for me, with the events in Spain.

Shostakovich was very interested in my reports. He asked me to go to Moscow and show him my works. Without delay, I collected all twenty pictures and sent them to him. Dmitri Dmitriyevich lived in a house on Nezhdanova Street. He let me know ahead of time on the telephone that he was already waiting for me. After a short conversation, we proceeded to the point. We looked at the pictures quietly (his whole family participated in this). Not a single word was said- no comments, nor compliments. When I finished showing them, I asked, “well, which one left an impression on you? You were quiet, and didn’t say anything to me.”

Then, he said, “I really like all of these works. They all produced a profound impression on me.” 

Hearing this, I decided to be generous and told him to choose any one of them as a gift. He liked seven of the works. So then I said, “take all seven!”

When we parted, Dmitri Dmitriyevich said to me, “come tomorrow and have lunch with us at two in the afternoon. We will wait for you.”

1968. I was given a ticket to the Creative House of Composers at Repino. I went there not so much to rest as to work. Soon, I noticed something strange- an unfriendly attitude towards myself from some of the members of the Composers’ Union who lived there at the time, especially their wives. It seemed to me that they were thinking, “walking among us is some sort of ignorant person, clearly unacquainted with music.” Suddenly, Dmitri Dmitriyevich arrives at the Creative House (he visited yearly). We met like good friends. Often, we’d have lunch or dinner together in the canteen, and walk together along the ice of the Finnish gulf. The others’ attitudes towards me drastically changed. Those who had almost bullied me now let me pass anywhere: to the cloakroom, to the canteen… Such a change brought me undisguised grievances (огорчения), and I shared them with Dmitri Dmitriyevich. He completely shared my outrage.

One evening, Dmitri Dmitriyevich, Irina Antonovna, and I went for a walk along the bay after dinner. When our stroll came to an end, I requested Dmitri Dmitriyevich to pose for a bit so I could draw him. He said that it wasn’t especially possible for him to sit, he couldn’t. I enthused to him that the duration of his “torment” would only last about ten to fifteen minutes. But this didn’t help. On the edge of despair, I heard Irina Antonovna’s words addressed to him: “Well, let’s go briefly; sit for a bit.”

Such was my joy when Dmitri Dmitriyevich uttered, with a patter, “okay, let’s go.” And we went. 

And here the three of us were in my small room in one of the cottages on the Creative House territory. Throwing off his coat and warm boots (his woolen socks stayed on), he perched on the couch for me. I grabbed paper and a pencil, and immediately began to draw. But I didn’t get a pose, because Dmitri Dmitriyevich kept turning his head to the left, then to the right, the whole time. With difficulty, I asked him not to move for at least one to two minutes. In the end, he finally succeeded at this, and not without effort. I don’t know which one of us it was more painful for, me or him… He continued to sit motionless for no more than three to four minutes, during which I managed to do three sketches. Looking at the tired view of Dmitri Dmitriyevich, one would think that he had endured a hard physical overload.

I used these sketches of mine- the only material from nature- for work on the portrait. There were three variants. Each one was of a different color [palette], composition, and size. In 1977, one of them entered the ownership of G.V. Sviridov. 

Of all the iconography of Shostakovich I know of, I want to highlight a portrait by the artist I. Serebryan. I feel that this work is an enormous achievement in our art, and not only ours. Before artists stood a very difficult task, and how brilliantly and talentedly he accomplished it. 

I will stop at one final episode, not related to music, true, but quite instructive. It was in 1929 (if I’m not mistaken). In the Raphael and Titian hall of the Academy of Artists, a large exhibit was arranged of Leningrad artists of different [ideological] currents (разных течений), beginning at the ultra-left and ending at the Orthodox right. A work was exhibited in this display (a female portrait). The opening vernissage was scheduled one Sunday for two hours a day, but it just so happened that nobody invited came. A small group of organizers of the  exhibit trampled down the landing stairs, waiting for visitors. 

About five minutes before the opening hour, the figure of a lone man of small stature appeared on the horizon, familiar to every Leningrader. It was the President of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR, Aleksandr Petrovich Karpinsky (later, the Academy of Sciences transferred to Moscow). After a short pause, he took from the side of his pocket his old-fashioned pocket watch with a silver lid (its ticking was barely audible), screwed up his eyes to look at the clock face, and uttered, “the opening starts at two, but now it’s seven minutes past three.” With the raised watch lid, he passed each of the organizers in turn, showing them the watch face. This created an awkward situation. The reference to the fact that the public was expected did not convince him. He said, “it’s scheduled for two hours, we need the exhibit to open, despite the situation.”

And the opening took place in the presence of these four men, not counting the watchman. In the evening, I was with Dmitri Dmitriyevich and told him about this occasion. Having listened to me attentively, he uttered, “they taught your brother a lesson!!!”

I answered, “not only our brother; aside from our brother- the respected public!” (не только нашего брата, но и не нашего брата тоже— уважаемую публику!) 

Impatiently, I waited for Shostakovich’s new work to appear- the transformation into music of Gogol’s story “The Portrait.” It’s difficult to say what could have hindered this plan. I only know that it was not about a play, but an operatic show. 

Dmitri Dmitriyevich loved to repeat the advice of the famous French artist Edgar Degas: “if you have skill worth a hundred thousand francs, try to add at least one more sou to it.”

In conclusion, I want to talk about one characteristic particular to Shostakovich’s personality. I refer to his oratorical talent. In the Great Hall of the Philharmonic, his speeches before concerts were distinguished by freedom of expression, deep thought, and impeccable style. The enormous erudition of the composer caught my eye, not only in music. He spoke without supporting notes or abstracts. It was a delight to listen to him. When he spoke, he always waved his hands [in a ‘brushing aside’ motion/ отмахивался].

Several years passed. I knew that Dmitri Dmitriyevich was sick, and that his legs were seriously injured. The season at the Maly hall of the Leningrad Philharmonic traditionally opened with an author’s concert of Shostakovich. Knowing about the next such concert, I went to get a ticket. On the way there, already close to the Philharmonic, I met Dmitri Dmitriyevich. He moved laboriously. I immediately announced that I was going to buy a ticket for his concert. We parted then, so that we would meet the next day after the concert. But this was not destined to come to pass. When I went to Maly hall the next day, an announcement was hung on the doors that read that due to his illness, Shostakovich’s concert was canceled… Soon, I found out that he had a heart attack and was admitted to the hospital. 

That was my last meeting with the composer.