angeryed

[angeryed]

Look I made a little something for y’all ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

#classical music #chopin #classical music memes #liszt #frederic chopin #classical music rpf #felix mendelssohn #franz liszt #mendelssohn #writing #sibelius #jean sibelius #tchaikovsky #pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky #franz schubert #schubert

[angeryed]

hii i was wondering if you know of any info sources on classical composers and their music in general? their lives, why they wrote, how they wrote, all that.. im re-learning piano after many years and would appreciate some guidance.. also, if youre aware of any blogs focusing on classical music i can look through I would be glad to know! never heard of chopin fanfiction but it sounds fun! haha

Ofc! Ofc There’re a lot of sources about Chopin for example on

And besides you can find a lot of biographical information on composers on the channel pianoTV

Besides, you can also read about these composers through their countless biographies.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Adding on about your re-learning piano, all I can say is good for you for picking it up again! Music is extremely hard to learn and I applaud your bravery and perseverance.

You can find piano teachers to help you or maybe if you’re re-learning it, you can self-teach yourself tougher pieces on your own as you’re already familiar with the basics. However, I’m only the one giving the advice here, the most well-versed person in your ability is you, so your decision is the most useful to how you grow best atm.

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

Hope this helps! ٩(˃̶͈̀௰˂̶͈́)و

#classical music #chopin #classical music memes #liszt #frederic chopin #classical music rpf #felix mendelssohn #franz liszt

[angeryed]

Music recommendations with famous characters 🎶

Author’s note: this is shorter than most of my posts, but I hope y’all like it (:

Do tell me if you want more of this! Much feedback is appreciated <33

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Dorian Gray

In his downfall of sin, lust and desire, how could he object to snobbery and opera?

exchange of souls with the portrait, Devil and self

discovery of his portrait’s corruption

deluge in sin. Half-eaten forbidden fruit in hand, juice staining Basil’s handkerchief

his charm masked his true form; draped in the cellar below his ballroom of lies

life returns to normal; it was not till they had examined the rings that they recognized who it was.

..••°°°°••..

Victor Frankenstein

He touched the blood on his scalp, weeping of a scholar’s doom

a short lived childhood of ill-fated innocence

the death of childhood heralds reason’s lacrimosa

Victor’s wedding march, sincerely played by the monster

a flicker of an end, his journey of discovery lost because of knowledge’s curse

Liszt: Faribolo pasteur — Love, Robert Walton

..••°°°°••..

Beth March

Could things have been different?

Liszt: Apparition No. 1 — her birth breathed a gentle lullaby. Even in life, moonlight blanketed her for heaven’s coffin.

Schumann: Kinderszenen — her life glazed by like a memory.

Chopin: Grande Valse Brillante Op. 18 — she plays for you, Jo March. And Amy and Meg and Marmee. Like a springtime cricket in the dead of summer, reaching the coda on the last of its strings.

Schubert: Fantasia for piano D. 940 I. Allegro molto moderato — she waved farewell to Jo, waiting for her.

Chopin: Valse de l’adieu Op. 69 No. 1

..••°°°°••..

Heathcliff

A consumption of rage, fury and insanity; fuelled from the woodland of a foreign Wuthering Heights

Chopin: March Funèbre — he lived, died and dreamt alone

Chopin: Op. 10 No. 3 “Tristesse” — a short-lived romance, the closest thing to love he felt

Chopin: Nocturne Op. 48 No. 1 — Maturity takes away a lot of things

Tchaikovsky: March Slave — All he wanted was Catherine. Even in death, there is her corpse

La La Land: City of Stars — Maybe in the afterlife

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

I hope y’all liked it <33

Much feedback is appreciated ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

#creative writing #classical music #prose #dorian gray #beth march #the picture of dorian gray #little women #wuthering heights #heathcliff #classical literature #classics #english literature #literature #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #writing #english classics

[angeryed]

Classical composers upon receiving heartfelt gifts from a friend 🎁

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Chopin

Treasures and cleans it everyday while it sits undisturbed on his desk every day

Flower, cologne, gloves or an entire piano, all he ever wanted was something to hold precious

It showed, alongside the sweet feeling being loved, that they appreciated and remembered too

With a note attached to your gift as well, please expect a delayed response as he re-does his response each time a tear blots his writing

Will give you a gift no matter whether you gave it to him first, but he would make it extra special (;

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

What did you mean? Had it succumbed to this? A mere note, triplet, rest of a piece of parchment on my desk. The petals, the flowers, scented to some lilac perfume, insignificant and dim— even Bach’s ashes wafted closer to our century’s etiquette. Handwritten note? Dashes and smiles, wet with perfume more than its smell punctured me awake. How many hours did you think I performed a week? How many students, gatherings, newspapers criticising my dandiness with their filthy hands, stained gloves, they held their journals with! And you still sent a letter and a bouquet of flowers as if they stayed intact and alive in the weeks of travel from Poland to Paris? What did you think you were? A messiah? A saviour of Poland so much that even Persephone’s breath would ferment your flowers for me to cherish? What? What impudence! That well-mannered judge of character, as if that pile of useless bandages had healed the cracks on your skull— your mute hands, which a sewing wheel had calloused more than a held note on the piano— the cracks, nooks and crannies— dripping, flooding, of homesickness for a city in which only your loved one slept in the confines of high society— while you starved in a wooden coffin for the exiled, weak and poor— why? Why? Why would you do this? To let your hopes wither away with only your blessing for me sprayed on fading perfume? Why? Why? Why? Because I loved you? Or was it because I loved you enough to have your ashes cremated in the hollow urn of my mind? Why? Why? Was I enough for you? Even when my footsteps trailed away as you planted flowers in them? Even when— even when— even when— could I be enough for you.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Schumann

He’s really so dreamy and out of this world, making one gift spark thousands of piece dedications

Poor guy lived in an asylum, attempted to hurt himself in many ways and suffered from depression.

Having someone offer him anything with a good will cannot cure him that moment, but will give him the strength he can’t muster.

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

The winds grew soft like bundles of rests on sheet music. They gave birth to the dots and crannies of crochets, quavers and voices— a mellow whisper, like family, peopling the backdrop. Your gift lingered like perfume, a moment I peered through its keyhole of scents and beauty, into our liquor and feelings. The other:

What were they?

Could I only remember moment of you, encased all of this in song, could that be a funeral— a sound coffin—

Only if I could hold your wings, without a pin punctured through you, a magnifying glass sustained between us.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Salieri

this poor misunderstood composer was always depicted as overshadowed and bitter against Mozart

Quite contrary to public perception, he was caring, selfless and kind.

In reality, he acted generously; though his flaws dawdled him in pride and arrogance.

Upon receiving gifts from a beloved, a heartfelt note would do. Let alone flowers or grand gestures of jewellery, all this man needs is a humble kiss in letters and notes.

Serenades may do the trick (:

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

I rise above street players and forgotten composers with my playing classical and bejewelled. Soft petals embroidered your letters— quill scratches cutting into paper deeper than the cologne you worked so hard to scent onto the parchment. I have concerts, lessons and operas to attend to, what may you bring onto the table besides wastepaper Beethoven could use to compose on?

I’m kidding, I’m kidding!

My dear beloved, no grand gestures and calligraphed words could enhance the lisped vowels and flushed sentences I spew from my clumsy tongue—

I speak and you better accept this madman’s outburst— as I speak, you have to listen for as whatever cheesy scribble you force on paper I must read—

I love you. That is all.

And that beats you in all types of serenades and sweets.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Schubert

Man lived a depressing, monotonous life compared to his grand, feverous music deluged in contagious passion.

While spending his life performing in socialite parties, the closest thing to a name he had ever got besides Schubert was ‘the little mushroom’

Day in and day out, his life containing only some letters wrapped in shrubs and bushes while Chopin clothed in purple prose and lilac gloves—

What? A letter?

Schubert trembled as he beheld a letter— for the landlord?

You!

*que a prolonged moment of gushing and internal sobbing as rivers of music drown from his mind to each letter— inked on your gift spelling “with love”*

All the man could do was smile and write back.

His stream of emotions, edited and crossed, copy-writed and repeated to a fraction of what he truly felt—

Thank you, dear friend. What can I do to repay you?

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Paganini

A romantic, passionate flame of musical virtuosity rumoured to have the Devil fuel it himself, Paganini—

The gambler, womaniser and epitome of recklessness.

Labelled and misunderstood again by the public as purely a robotic showman, Paganini has truly emotional pieces on the guitar and violin.

His caprices encapsulated his feelings as much as any other Romantic piece.

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

Upon receiving his gift, with a smile and a bittersweet glance at the signature he smudged—

“Thank you, dear,”

He would say as he pondered about what he would reply so as to not waste your time as you read his page-long letter with a manuscript behind your bundle of papers.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Authors note: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the hiatus. I just finished my finals! I hope to publish more frequently now!!

Thank you for all your support and feedback <3 I’ll get back to you as soon as possible (´･ᴗ･ ` )

More posts incoming these following days. I’ll stay online more often now (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

You can find more of me here

Stay tuned!! Tysm for reading (⁀ᗢ⁀)

#creative writing #classical music #classical music memes #chopin #prose #niccolo paganini #paganini #frederic chopin #fryderyk chopin #schubert #franz schubert #antonio salieri #salieri #richard wagner #wagner #schumann #robert schumann #classical music rpf #classical music meme

[angeryed]

Most heartwarming things about every composer ❤️

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

Mendelssohn: the profound respect he had for others

The way he’s so cordial with strangers and even the people he dislikes

Man always remembers his manners and acts cordial as his family has taught him

And on occasions, his bursts of excitement to the point of switching languages highlights his joy to see who his loves

From the 1830's when he was in his 20s: “his excitement was increased so fearfully … that when the family was assembled … he began to talk incoherently in English.”

“His attachment to Mademoiselle Lind’s genius as a singer was unbounded, as was his desire for her success.” About Mendelssohn’s attitude to his wife

The amount of passion letters he wrote may be destroyed, but how his wife described him spoke it all: “He was the only person who brought fulfilment to my spirit, and almost as soon as I found him I lost him again.” ๐·°(৹˃̵﹏˂̵৹)°·๐ the feels bro

Recommended piece: Op. 34 No. 2

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Chopin: his love for family

Despite his disrespect and uncalled for criticism towards other composers, he still cares about his homeland

Even in his deathbed, he asked a soprano to sing the Polish national anthem

And he sent his siblings letters everyday when he was out of town

And through his ‘love’ letters to his friend, Tytus, you can tell he was passionate (;

“You don’t like being kissed. Please allow me to do so today. You have to pay for the dirty dream I had about you last night.” 👀 Chopin to Tytus — his ‘best friend’

We might never know if he actually meant it or if it was social etiquette back then, but the speculation is still there

Recommended pieces: Op. 22

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Liszt: everything about him

this man truly was an underrated jewel in the classical word

He was generous to the point where he went broke from teaching music free of charge and holding charity concerts all the time

People from his and our time both misunderstand him for being a womaniser, but he was more than that

He never disrespected any female composers and even when he criticised by his contemporaries, he always kept his cool and even complimented some of them

When Chopin criticised him for playing his nocturnes the wrong anr demanded an apology, Liszt still continued to admire him

Composer chivalry fr.

Recommended pieces: Totentanz

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Tchaikovsky: his devotion and mellow kindness

He was sweet and shy. Unlike Chopin.

Having only a few close friends and a tightly-knit family, he was fiercely loyal and to whom he loved.

As a gay man in the conservative 19th century Russia, he could only seek solace with his closest friends — his sister being the closest.

When his sister passed, all he could was to dedicate the entire Nutcracker Ballet to her as a part of his self-expression died with her.

And she meant a lot to him. Not only a part of himself was buried, the fact he loved her so much despite his depression and dissatisfaction towards his life, showed how close he was to his family.

Recommended piece: Pas de Deux (it showed his lonely yearning for love in my interpretation; those whimsical melodies and how he missed both sisterly and romantic love)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Beethoven: man pulled 2015 pranks in the 19th century

Even though he scowled and raged throughout his life, he pulled pranks and laughed when his guests fell for it

He hid behind the door and scared his guests whenever they went through it

Laughing at their annoyed faces, he continued to turn annoyance to offence when he made his friends the butt of his jokes

To further gouge tears from his grumpy little face, he made more short songs solely as jokes about them

Besides being a hopeless romantic who made Fur Elise as a way to diss Elise, he wrote lyrics, “we all agree that you are the biggest ass” when joking about his violinist friend

Beethoven was either a great or absolutely horrible friend to have

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Shostakovich: a genuinely good guy

Every lonely person’s wet dream

Showing up on time, being nice back to everyone who was nice to him alongside living life the normal way despite being a composer, he never raised any aggression tendencies like other composers (take notes Beethoven :/)

Love extended beyond family and friends. He threaded and worded his letters with kindness and manners, especially to those who asked him for advice

Even under his intense stress and anxiety during the Soviet Union’s surveillance, the man loved his family.

And that in itself was impressive.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

Author’s note: I may not have written a recommended piece for all of them because I am not well-versed in most of their pieces yet

Do tell me what composers to do. I am happy to write about them <:

Much feedback is appreciated ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

#classical music #chopin #creative writing #liszt #classical music memes #tchaikovsky #pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky #mendelssohn #felix mendelssohn #franz liszt #frederic chopin #fryderyk chopin #beethoven #ludwig van beethoven #shostakovich #dmitri shostakovich #Spotify

[angeryed]

Op. 2 no. 5

Word count: 1541 // 100% sfw // mentions of alcohol

Author’s note: this is my first piece mainly about Fanny and Felix Mendelssohn. Please note that this is not a reflection of their character and should not be regarded as such. This is only an inspiration of their real character personalities as I try to make references to a slight part of what they have truly experienced. I hope you enjoy!

Much feedback is appreciated (´,,•ω•,,)♡

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Fanny was a composer. She was meant to be in the ballroom serving everyone as per custom.

Melodies and harmonies spiralled from her fingertips as easy as her breaths rolled from her nose and fluttered in the air. At three she could compose and at ten, she led concerts day in and day out. As a composer should be, she thought. As a composer should be.

Alongside her training to be a good housewife for her dear Wilhelm Hensel, she played, played, played and played the piano.

Despite how many times the Hensels said, “no, Fanny, greet Wilhelm!” Or “stop playing or else your future will be gone!”Fanny still played as Felix played with her. Leading concerts here and there and avoiding the Hensels’ scrutiny, she had fun and made music right under the Hensels’ noses which only sniffed and snorted.

“Make your child behave like a real woman!” The Hensels said, “or else we might remove everything music related from her life once she’s married!”

“Will do Mrs. Hensel, will do,” Felix answered for his father. “We won’t make you regret choosing her as the bride.”

“I’d rather not!” Mrs. Hensel, Wilhelm’s mother, sniffed. “But one more toe out the line, and she’ll regret even having musical talents to begin with!”

“And don’t you chuckle at me, Felix!” She continued as she snapped the smile from his face. “Once she performs in public alone again, the only thing she’ll ever play in our household is some yarn and string!”

“That was absolutely splendid, Fanny!” Felix said. “Do play again! Play again! Play again!”

She paused; pondering the now silent keyboard before her. Strings still vibrated from the melodies she sang.

“I have other duties to attend to,” Fanny said, flipping her scribbled manuscripts. “I’m a lady, Felix. I have to focus on my actual goal.”

Before her brother frowned again, she continued —

“I’ve a husband to find. I'm going to be a housewife soon.”

“What about your music?” Felix retorted, waving the money Fanny earned from her pieces. “They don’t know you write music and I published them in my name.”

He held Fanny’s hands. “You could continue.”

“I could?”

A letter lined with velvet and class subdued her tears. “For you, Fanny,” Felix whispered. “Be there, tonight.”

“And you will stay at home!”

“Why do I have to do this?” Fanny said. “Why do I—”

“You will keep our name clean!” Father raised a pointed finger at me. Each fibre of it shook until his nails went white. “And you will do as I tell you!”

“I am—”

Felix gazed back at her, twisting the skin of his ring finger.

“You said I could!”

The banging door locked away any way Felix could leave. “You said that!” Fanny shouted. “And look what it did, Felix.” He glanced away.

“Look what it did!”

Fanny raised her voice when Felix grabbed a hold of her music.

“And don’t you dare touch it!”

“What am I to do then?” Felix retorted, biting back his tears. “What am I to do about what is your fault?”

“My fault?” Fanny spat. “My fault?”

“You’re not suited for this, Fanny. You can’t perform concerts anymore,” Felix sat beside Fanny, who cowered on the ground, “and I’m sorry for instilling that hope in you.”

Felix offered Fanny his hand. “Come on, go back to your room with me. You can still compose, just don’t perform like what father—”

“Leave, Felix,” Fanny managed to sniffle through gritted teeth. She hugged her knees as tight as she could until her dress tore at the sides.

“Fanny, get up. Please.”

“And I said leave!”

Before sinking onto the ground again, she glared straight into her brother’s face — the same lips which sang as they played piano, whose tongue lisped against the irregular curvature of complicated words and phrases; and whose gaze, drooped into a glance and later a glimpse when his repertoire got boring, pupils later fluttering as quickly away from the sheet music as his little fingers across the keyboard.

“Fanny, I insist—”

“And I,” she whimpered, controlling the uneven hitches agpt her larynx, “you leave.”

Felix dipped his head before her as he left. “Dinner’s coming in an hour.”

“Do you think she finally listened?”

“Fanny? I hope so…

“You really shouldn’t be so harsh on her, dad. She’s been crying in her room for the past hour.”

“Anyway,” Father said, staring straight at Felix. “She cannot go to the party. Her finacé’s family is there. Think of the scandals! Think of it all!”

In the cobblestone streets leading to the ball, pages of sheet music thumped against the backs of countless composers.

“Need a ride, miss?“

“I’m fine, thank you sir,” Fanny replied, unpacking her bag. “I’m a guest performer. Here’s my invitation.”

“F. Mendelssohn?” The guard replied, holding the card in his hand followed by a crowd of laughs and leers.

“Fanny Mendelssohn, sir,” Fanny added. “I’m the composer of that family. Felix is only my little brother.”

Gazing back up at her, he smiled, “right this way.”

Being led to the piano, Fanny was a composer. Fanny was a composer. Fanny was a composer. She kept reminding herself as she sat on the piano stool.

After all those years of preparing for being a housewife, her hands kept trickling out the music from her mind, bleeding into bandages of sheet music and fluttering up in the air. With every performance, each note folded into the ventricles of people’s hearts as motifs conjoined into their veins and pumped blood in their veins.

“They lived because of me,” Fanny thought. “And they shall again.”

And for that moment, she played. Amidst the crowd with everyone to gape at her, to raise eyebrows and clap at her mumps across the piano as their tears fuelled her encore.

She could.

“I could, I could, I could!” Thought Fanny as her keys laughed, cheered and clapped her mind’s whispers out loud.

After her waltzes and nocturnes, she hastened to bring out her lieders.

Readying them on the stand as the crowd hissed to a silence—

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Fanny Mendelssohn’s piano solo of Italien.”

Her heart prepared for another rush of adrenaline — the rush of laughter and flame, engulfed in all of it like alcohol. Wrapped in music bars, her mind spun again and again—

“Fanny playing Felix’s work?”

“It’s my work,” Fanny answered.

Before the gasps subsided, a virtuosic strum on the piano broke free with her breaths. As she continued her adrenaline reached the brim —

“Stop this!” Some people from the audience spoke. “How do we know you wrote it?”

“I wrote it!” Fanny said. “And I’m so tired of being called over and over and over about what I ought to do!”

She continued playing the piano, even as whispers disrupted the piano’s resonance and jammed her mind with disturbances.

“Fanny Mendelssohn!” A voice shouted before her. “You are to wed the Hensel family! What are you going to do once they find out about this?”

“That I’m a renowned composer? Leave! Father, leave!” Fanny said as she continued her pieces.

A bunch of drunkards in the ball shooed her family away. Satisfied, alcohol pumped through Fanny’s music as she slurred her pieces alongside her voice which often accompanied her lieders.

“See, everyone?” She hiccuped, making a sloppy run across the keyboard in the middle of the night. “Especially you, Mrs. Hensel. I’m to wed your son tomorrow, and look at me! I’m even more talented than my brother, Felix!”

Adding some trills and ornaments to her nocturnes, she shot out again at the Hensel family, a sober blur in the drunken mist and fatigue. “Wouldn’t you want me for a wife, Wilhem darling? Wouldn’t you… wouldn’t you?”

The ground reached for her first after her vomiting on the keyboard. Falling before her fiancé’s feet, spit trickling on her hands, still clutching some manuscripts, she whispered, “wouldn’t you be grateful for such a prodigy?”

In the carriage ride back to the Hensel estate, Wilhelm met Fanny with the same respectful nods and greetings as before.

“I thought, Wilhelm dear,” snorted Fanny, “that you’d hate me for what I did… even I would see how improper I was today.

“Don’t you worry, darling,” replied Wilhelm upon reaching his home. “After taking in consideration your abilities, you’d be best to participate in concerts for the rest of your life.”

The moment those words were uttered out, Fanny, carrying that pungent smell of vomit and liquor, thanked him saying, “I’ve always wanted this… I’ve always… always…”

A fireplace to sit by, and some soup to warm her stomach, still growling for sleep.

“Anything else you need, dear?” Fanny called. “There’s a piano for you down the hall if you want it.”

Fanny searched for the slightest twitch of discomfort in every guest at the ball, carrying a map of the ball if anyone needed it.

“Excuse me, lady, where are the refills?”

“Down the hall to the left, sir,” she replied to a gentleman as she led Felix to the performance room.

Fanny was a composer as everyone said. A composer meant to be in a ballroom, serving the public as per custom.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

I hope y’all liked it (:

Leave a request about which composers/people I should write about next if you want to ʘ̥ꀾʘ̥

(ฅ'ω'ฅ) Ps I never sleep so feel free to send me a dm any time of the day

#chopin #classical music #creative writing #classical music memes #mendelssohn #felix mendelssohn #fanny mendelssohn #classic literature #music memes #classical composers #romantic literature #prose #romantic era #piano music

[angeryed]

Classical composers as coffee ☕️

Authors note: a shorter piece for y’all people to devour (:

DISCLAIMER: I am not part of the uwuification/glorification of Chopin. He is NOT someone to admire because he had his flaws too.

I only make ship fics of him and Liszt as a figment/branch of reality to show how they could’ve bettered each other in their own ways (i.e., Chopin teaching Liszt to be more critical and less generous to others and Liszt teaching Chopin to be nicer and less pompous) in maturer themes to EXAGGERATE how they meld together.

Without further ado, there’s my fic (:

⊱ ────── ── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ──────── ⊰

Mozart: café mocha

A chocolatey child’s dream for the child himself. Be cautious however; beneath those thick layers of chocolate syrup, that espresso can sear your tongue alive with flavours so bitter they have to stay hidden in order for this drink to be mainstream.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Debussy: Americano

Man’s nothing but bitter and water💀 /j I love Debussy but man was so salty that he called every composer except Chopin boring.

➽───────────────❥

Bach: Espresso

Just simple coffee, with every composer learning from him and expanding on the foundation of music he brewed himself. Still not everyone’s cup of coffee though.

➽───────────────❥

Mendelssohn: café au lait

Learned and first inspired to write music by Bach himself, Mendelssohn sure loves his Bach with a touch more of milk.

➽───────────────❥

Chopin: café miel

Emotionally and melodiously complex, besides espresso a nightmare of ingredients like honey, chords of steamed milk and simple espresso make this a complicated yet at the end of the day, simple art form. He was kinda problematic as a person too so that complicated mesh of ingredients strikes both ways as well.

➽───────────────❥

Liszt: Galão

Above that thin, but concentrated layer of hot espresso, pumping hot and bitter to drink, is, the softest, warmest, most generously loaded, thick, very thick foamed — very foamed, so foamed it clings to the swollen creases of your lips — poured into Liszt’s drink a layer, a thick thick delectable layer, in fact of — the irreplaceable —

Chopin’s, milk.

————————-————————-————————

Hope you liked it as well as learnt about a new type coffee that fits your taste 🍯

#classical music #chopin #liszt #creative writing #smutty #classical music memes #historical fiction #historical memes #writers on tumblr #musicians #composers #debussy #mendelssohn #bach #mozart

[angeryed]

Op. 4 No. 2

“Piano”

Authors Note: Hi y’all sorry for the impromptu hiatus (: I’ve been more online in AO3 lately, but here is a fictional journal entry *wink* written by Frédéric Chopin (a.k.a. me if you want to break character) I hope you like it <:

Much feedback and comments are appreciated 🥰

The gleaming sunlight seeped between the silhouettes of the people around me. Music melted and failed to trickle past the curvature of lips and noises, falling flat or sharp within the confines of that neglected piano.

If only I could hold it in my grasp, past that crowd, I would, I would! What secrets did you hold inside that prudish lid? What could I reach from you? The breathy rests and legato ties between measures and bars, the velvety carpet silenced my steps as I made my way up to you like a father to his child. What damage has been done to you? I was here! I was here!

“Frédéric!” Interrupted Liszt, cocking up his head , “care to join the fun?”

That pungent reek of alcohol and promiscuity… hissing about for all to see and smell… “No,” I snapped, making my way to the piano. “Don’t you see what little respect you all have for yourself? Spreading your fingers and lips for all this, what is… what is this?”

I fought hard to keep myself calm. How despicable that sinful look on Liszt’s face still held the gaze of an admirable pianist! He used to be that and only that. I even gave him a piano for his use, until he declined it and set up a scandalous tryst with such an abominable woman. He threw everything I gave him under dirt and

“You strut about saying all of this,” I spat. “But have you ever thought about what I’ve been through?”

Before Liszt even had a moment to spit out a pathetic retort, I said again, “remember that time when you took what was mine in your sins and trysts?

“Stretched about in my flat, on my bed, right in front of my piano-” Breaths hitched against my tightening throat, as if Liszt’s groping, hungry hands had tainted the piano as well as his women. “Have you ever thought of how much you value over this scandalous tryst? Has the piano given you so little memories that you bothered to taint it?”

Those melodies simmering from my blood, as love haunted my abandoned piano like an echo, Liszt had all of that overlapped, blocked and sullied.

“‘Fantastic, Frédéric ! I’ve never dreamt of such a melody like this!’ You used to say,” I hissed. Gazing deep at his guiltless brow, poised overarchingly against his up-titled head. “Have you forgotten how I missed those memories with you on the piano? Have you, have you?”

His arm rammed against the keyboard. Dissonant strings strummed and broke a gasp from me as hard as awe.

“You really want this, do you?” laughed Liszt, stroking the dignity from our piano. He grinned before his cough cracked out of his caked face full of smiles and tears. “Even more than me!”

“Of course,” I laughed before his solemn face gave away how serious he was. “Of course!” I said again. “Why would I care about you? When you hurt it? When you hurt what we had created, what you created?”

The crowd faltered before us, and the sunlit room faded to a dim moonshine.

The memory of what was before surfaced into view again as Liszt retold, “what about the time when I had sworn my loyalty and love towards Marie, and you clapped for us?”

I laughed before his ex-mistress' excuse. “Did that relationship end well?” I guffawed, “that ended well? You use this as an excuse to justify what you did to my piano when it never ended well from the start!”

“You gave me my blessing!” Liszt shouted. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have wasted my life on her. Nor would I have taken the pains to hurt not only me but her as well! You said we would’ve been great together, showered us with shallow promises, and look what they’ve done to your piano - to me!”

I laughed at his tears and suffering. He spoke again, “you think this is funny?”

Liszt mustered a sneer beneath a mess of tears and snot, “you think this is funny — how you ruined my love life with a tryst scandal and blamed me for ruining a pathetic piano?”

“You don’t insult it like that!”

Liszt rammed another chord until the piano struggled under the weight of a palm of his fingers alone. Begging him to stop, he said, “you only cared about the piano — the only part of me you ever cared!”

“Indeed,” I said. “I don’t care how much you’ve lost. You hurt what we made together-”

“You made me and her come together,” Liszt interrupted, waving my letter about giving him his blessing from his pocket. “Remember Marie and my honeymoon in Switzerland? And how you gave us the piano as a gift and we humbly declined it?”

“That doesn’t justify-”

“It belongs to me, you gave it to me!” Liszt punched his words deeper into the piano as I begged him to stop. “You own no right to it. It is my property and I can do exactly what I want with it!”

“Franz-”

“You gave it away!” Liszt broke a piano string as his spit escaped his spluttering lips. “Everything I did to the piano was your fault alone!”

He cowered before me as he sank on the piano stool. With his height now shorter than mine, his head of curly locks blew against my coat. “I am innocent, Frédéric. Please, you must understand.”

He nagged at me, tugging at my clothes for understanding. Breaths hitching at the guilt I had shoved upon him, which submerged him like tears.

“You hurt us for Marie, Franz,” said I. “What we created, and I have been exploited by you of what we’ve made.”

Franz cooed as he rose, “I will shred every bit of hurt from you.”

Fixing at its wooden skin, he began again, “and you deserve every bit of it.”

Hours he spent fixing and tuning the strings of the piano, hacking away peeling paint and replacing it anew when I let him for the next few days. And during that period, smiles that snuck from my lips signalled him to continue.

He pampered the stool and readied manuscripts on the piano for me.

“You like it, don’t you Frédéric?” Liszt said. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I really am.”

“You think this will help me?”

Before Liszt made another move, I rammed a dissonant chord as he had done. This time the sound soured tears to his eyes and a snicker on my face.

“Isn’t this what you want,” Franz gasped. “Liberty? I’m making a change for you.”

He gazed up at me, in righteousness and fear, “You wanted me to fix your piano, right? To fix it! That was why you were so, so mad at me.”

“Who said I meant it?” I said, to Liszt, my dear piano. “I will make you pay every cent for what I’ve lost.”

Sounds strummed from his larynx, my larynx, as I groped with my fingers and sullied my pride for his music, as he had done to everyone else.

1835 / Frédéric C.

Ayo thanks for reading <3

For more Chiszt content you can check out my AO3 (: @/Belle_Thighphine

#frederic chopin #chopin #liszt #franz liszt #classical music #classical music memes #classical music rpf #rpf #chopin x liszt #smutfic #smut fic #spicy fic #prose #creative writing

[angeryed]

Hey Y’all I’m back from the dead 🥰 (wish that happened to Chopin fr)

I’ll be posting again of 19th Century historical figures RPF and if you have any requests please tell me!!

Thank you so much for all your love and support <3

I love you all sm (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)

[angeryed]

DIRECTORY

Master list

-> Original works

CHOPIN X LISZT

Op. 4 No. 2

MENDELSSOHN

Op. 5 No. 2 (Fanny Mendelssohn)

-> Brief thoughts/ snippets

CLASSICAL COMPOSERS

Most heartwarming thing about every composer ❤️

Classical composers as coffee ☕️

Classical composers upon receiving gifts from a friend 🎁

Classical composer meme 🫖

DEVIL MAY CRY

Sparda Boys at a Christmas Ball 🎄

LITERATURE

Music recommendations for famous characters 🎶

-> Cosplay

Coming soon

───── ❝ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 ❞ ─────

Hi I’m Angery and I go by any pronouns (:

I enjoy classical music, creative writing and literature of all types and countries 🥰

֎ I write for DMC, classical composer and historical figure fandoms ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

֎ Hong Kong based magazine writer and full-time student

֎ I cosplay and go to ACGHK every year . ̫.

֎ Aspiring creative writing major

֎ Violinist and pianist ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

֎ Fan of ASMR videos of baking and drink-making vlogs 🍨

֎ DM’s open 24/7 💌

Feel free to ask questions and give feedback! I appreciate all of them (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)

My AO3 is @/Belle_Thighphine if you want to find more classical music RPF content! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

You can find more of me here too ٩(˃̶͈̀௰˂̶͈́)و

Enjoy your stay~

#chopin #classical music #creative writing #dmc #devil may cry #literature #chopin x liszt #liszt #smutfic #writers on tumblr #writing #novel #prose #debussy #claude debussy #mozart #bach #mendelssohn #felix mendelssohn