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jtl-fics · 2 years ago

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Fluent Freshman - Part 28

FF does not like being on pain medication.

Everything feels floaty and it is so hard to focus on anything around him.

He’s almost glad that his Gran has given him something to focus on that something being helping her sell her lie to the Foxes that she only knows Polish. Coach Wymack must know but the man is a steel trap and FF finds himself envying his Gran that HER secret keeper is Coach Wymack.

“Smithy! My sweet beautiful idiot!” Nicky cries when Gran gives Wymack the OK for them to come back in. FF finds himself on the receiving end of 2 forehead kisses and a kiss to each of his cheeks from Nicky. “Next time you see a crazy mafia hitman looking to kidnap me you just grab me and RUN.” He orders pointedly, “No more cool guy shit where you take ‘em out in the weird sex alley.” He runs his fingers through FF’s hair and…

Yeah it’s okay that Nicky is the one that knows.

Nicky is so nice.

“What about Aaron?” FF asks.

“If Romero could grab Aaron when he is in whacky inflatable tube mode then I don’t think he’d be taken out by you and Andrew.” Nicky says with a watery smile.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is offended.

“Learn to dance at a club already. We’ve been going for years.” Nicky shoots back but never takes his eyes off of FF’s face.

“I dance just fine. I’m better than Kevin.” Aaron argues.

“Hey.” Kevin’s voice is offended.

“You are better than Kevin, but that’s not a real standard of good.” Nicky dismisses, “Regardless, next time grab me and I’ll grab Aaron and the three of us can hide literally anywhere other than the weird sex alley. We could go to the back room with Roland or, if it means you not ending up in the hospital with a stab wound, I would even tolerate hiding down in the straight swingers club in the basement.” Nicky says.

He sees Andrew and Captain Neil tense off to the side.

Oh, that’s right.

Oh fun another lie for him to focus on instead of feeling floaty. Gran always talked about the virtue of telling the truth but the only thing set free would be Nicky in a club that he’s not supposed to know about.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you Nicky.” FF says instead.

Nicky laughs and kisses his cheek one more time. “You’re my favorite family member now. Sorry Aaron, you’ve made me endure the horrors of a heterosexual relationship for too long.” Nicky says stroking FF’s face as he looks up to where FF assumes Aaron is.

“Hey.” Aaron says in the exact same way he said earlier.

“Andrew-“ Nicky starts but is cut off.

“I don’t care.”

“That’s the spirit.” Nicky says, “Neil-“

“Nicky, I also don’t care.”

“At least you have one another to support each other.”

“Wait, what about me?” Kevin asks.

“You won’t even LEARN the family language Kevin, you were NEVER in the running for my favorite.” Nicky dismisses and doesn’t bother to turn back to the “So Smithy is my favorite family member now with Aras coming in second.”

Two things strike FF in the wake of family conversation.

First, when in the world did Kevin get here? Why is he here? Is he going to ask the doctors to run tests on FF to figure out stealth mode?

Second, Nicky just used his Gran’s nickname. The nickname that causes FF no small amount of embarrassment. It was a youthful indiscretion! He had thought he understood Lithuanian quite well! He had wanted to impress his Great Gran and his Gran with his knowledge.

“You’re looking pale Smith, do you need more pain medication?” Captain Neil asks.

“No, I’m fine.” He is pretty sure that pain meds can’t numb the psychological pain of his friends hearing about his youthful mistakes and he doesn’t care how bad his stomach is going to hurt he wants to only take the absolute minimum amount of pain meds required to get through this so he can stop floating.

Having friends nearby makes it so much easier.

Conversations go on with him and around him. He’s tired still from everything and when a nurse comes in to try and give him more pain medication he declines. All present in the room except Gran try to convince him to take it but he declines all but the most minor amount to take the edge off.

He finally realizes that Kevin had not been with them and asks why the hell he’s here. He gets an answer that makes him reconsider being on any pain medication at all because it doesn’t really make any sense. Why in the world is Kevin telling him not to trust the nutritionist?

Neil lets him know that the FBI are going to be coming around at some point to talk to him. He says that Agent Browning is a dick but generally fine and that there will be a local agent Iruma Matsumoto stopping by before him, probably today. He looks right at Andrew and says “Yeah, I’ll talk with them about how Romero stabbed me.” Andrew lets out an amused puff of laughter that makes FF feel like he might be doing alright at this friendship thing.

He apologizes to Andrew that he can’t make the pie today and gets a flick to his ear.

He finds out that he slept through all of Saturday and that it is Sunday morning. Finds out that his Gran and Wymack had stayed over at the Columbia house last night and that Wymack has him excused from his classes this week. He also finds out that Nicky has given his grandma a key to the house in Columbia so she could stay there while she’s visiting him.

He apologizes to Nicky for messing up the clothes he’d let him borrow and earns another flick to the ear from Nicky.

Wymack hands him a new phone that Nicky has apparently set up for him. His lip quirks up slightly when he sees that Nicky registered it as ’Smithy’s phone’. Neil shows him some stuff since he has the same phone model but Andrew rolls his eyes.

“You’ve barely figured out how to set anything on your phone Junkie. You still haven’t even set a screen lock.” He says as he pulls Neil back from FF’s space.

“I’ve figured out how to change the notification ping.” Neil argues but lets himself be pulled away and if Andrew keeps his arm around Neil afterwards? No one comments on that.

He translates things for his Gran when it seems important for her to be able to respond to and helps Nicky with some pronunciations.

He falls asleep a couple times and wakes up to his friends and teammates in all sorts of different configurations. Nicky gets him some good sugar-free Jell-O from the nurses while Aaron smacks Kevin upside the head when Kevin complains that it’s not good for him and not part of the diet he’s making to get FF back on the Court ASAP. “He’s gotta be on a clear liquid diet for 24 hours after his surgery.” Aaron hisses.

“Why does it have to be clear? I can put it in a blender but it won’t be clear.” Kevin grumbles.

“He’s not going to be on puree’d food for at least two weeks idiot.” Aaron smacks his head again.

“Stop that.”

He hears from Wymack the other Freshman Dealer won’t be returning and that Sheena is now their only Dealer and she does not do defense well. Kevin’s disapproval for the Jell-O cups only grows stronger in light of this news. His grumbling only stops when Gran looks at him and says “Maybe someone should help you pull that stick out of your ass young man.” In her nicest most grandmotherly voice.

When Kevin turns to FF for a translation Nicky beats him to it, “She said a handsome young man like you shouldn’t ruin your face with worries.” He says without a hint that he’s lying.

Kevin preens at the grandmotherly approval of his looks and FF gets to know that he, Nicky and his grandma all have lying in common.

Eventually it’s lunch time and the natural hunger of college athlete boys trumps anything else. Kevin won’t eat anything at the cafeteria since he doesn’t trust the nutritionist so they agree to head out of the hospital to grab food. He’s more tired than hungry so he tells his Gran to go with them. She pats his face and promises she’ll be back with some clear soup for him per the Doctor’s order and despite Kevin’s grumbling that he could make a clear protein shake.

His Gran kisses his forehead and tells him that she’ll be back soon and that he should rest as much as he can.

***

FF can’t sleep.

He tried.

He really did.

But without the noise of everyone else his mind keeps going back to the last time he was in a hospital. He closes his eyes and he can see Gran’s pale face when she tells him that his dad didn’t make it and the tears when she tells him neither-

He can’t sleep.

So he gets up against medical advice and decides to go on a walk. He’s not been connected to any of the monitoring equipment since he had first woken up, just the IV keeping him hydrated. FF decides he wants to get his dad’s leather back because it would make him feel better. The leather jacket has weight that would keep his feet strictly on the ground and it’s something his Gran had given to him when he went off to college so that he could keep his dad close. He could call a nurse but it feels like he shouldn’t distract them with something as stupid as getting him his dad’s jacket so he doesn’t have a panic attack.

So he lets himself slip into the background and heads towards the nurse station. He thinks that might be where they’re holding his belongings. It’s a good first stop if nothing else.

He can’t help but notice a strange number of men in suits but figures that maybe they’re just there to talk to people who seem to have gotten caught up in some sort of mass casualty incident.

He makes it to the nurse station and when a whole 5 minutes goes by without a single nurse clocking that he exists he considers speaking up until he sees a nurse bagging up some clothes, slapping on a label, and heading away.

It’s nice when things work out for him.

Another suit wearing man comes up and a different nurse sees him there immediately and comes up, “What can I help you with?” She asks.

“I’m looking for someone with the last name Smith, he has a stab wound?” The man asks.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” The nurse responds with exasperation but FF is already almost out of earshot when he hears it because he’s following the nurse with the bag.

He follows her down the hallway and she thankfully takes an elevator instead of going down the stairs because FF doesn’t know how he would have gotten his IV stand down with him.

FF walks in with her and he watches her slump as the doors slide close. Relaxing like most people do when they think they’re alone. Her shoulders go straight back when the elevator opens again and he follows after her.

He follows her to a door that she unlocks and proceeds to enter and FF sees a room full of the same bags with belongs all tagged with a last name and a room number. “Christ, why are there so many fucking Smiths in here right now?” She grumbles but takes him straight to the S section and he sees his own ‘Smith’ and room number.

He grabs it and heads out the door before the nurse and heads into the elevator.

His phone pings with a text message. He opens it and sees a text from an unknown number.

“Come to the Cafeteria. - IM”

FF stares at his phone for a few minutes before the initials click.

Iruma Matsumoto, the local FBI agent who was coming to talk to him today according to Captain Neil. It’s weird to be texted like this but this is the first time he’s ever had to talk to the FBI. Maybe it’s normal? He doesn’t really want to bother Captain Neil about what getting interrogated by the FBI is like since Captain Neil is out at lunch.

He decides to go to the Cafeteria.

FF follows the directory in the elevator and then the arrows that point him towards the cafeteria. He takes a moment to pull his dad’s jacket out and it does help him feel better. He realizes the McDonald’s toy is still in his pocket and thinks that he really should probably turn that over to Agent Matsumoto.

When he gets to the cafeteria he sees even more of those guys in suits and then he sees a well dressed Japanese man sitting by himself at a table. FF has a moment where he thinks ‘Wow that FBI agent sure does look like a member of the Yakuza.’ Before he squashes it because ‘OMG that’s such a fucking racist thing to think. Thoughts from the abyss are the worst and Agent Matsumoto is probably a perfectly nice guy.’

He takes a seat in front of the man who is surrounded by two other of the men in black he’s seen. Oh that guy was probably looking for him to bring him here so they could have the talk.

None of the men seem to notice him and FF realizes that he’s still in stealth mode. He sets the bag with the rest of his clothes to the side and clears his throat.

Three sets of eyes are on him immediately and FF breathes through the anxiety as the two men at either side of Agent Matsumoto seem to reach for something at their holsters.

“Captain Neil said you wanted to talk to me.” He says.

Captain Matsumoto raises a hand and the two men on either side of him return to an at ease position.

***

Ichirou Moriyama could admit to himself that he had been startled when a young man seemingly appeared out of nowhere in front of him without any warning. He sees a bulge in the man’s pocket that says that he’s armed and he could have done anything before bringing attention to himself. He had men throughout the hospital and no one has spotted Wesninski or any of his cohorts but they had their eyes peeled for the uninvolved civilian who had taken out Jackson on his own and had assisted Wesninski’s guard dog in taking out Romero.

Interesting.

Ichirou clasps his hands together in over the cafeteria table.

“Yes, let’s talk.” He agrees.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit @lesbian-blackbeard @lesbiansupernatural @silvermasquerade @thepeachfuzz @minniemariex @kazoo-the-demjin @gaypomegranate @ji-nk-ies @neilimfinejosten @omgrubelangel @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice @percabethotplove @cozyrosykay @foxyatlas @theoneandonlylostsock @cindersapsecrets

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

If you didn’t get notified on the last part it’s probably because I used tumblr mobile to post and our most beloved garbage fire site just didn’t like that.

#Fluent Freshman AU #Guess who accidentally took FF's phone?#It's Neil #He realizes it halfway through the grocery store run #Sorry FF your grandma is now the Monster Grandma #She's got knitting projects planned for each of them #She's already asked about allergies #She jokingly tells Nicky she'll knit Kevin a muzzle because he's commented on the amount of butter she uses four times #He always shuts up when he eats it at least #Neil is blissfully unaware that he has FF's phone and FF has his #Some poor Moriyama grunts are wandering through the hospital having to check every single Smith room for the one they're looking for #Ichirou was planning some mild intimidation shit on Neil #But was hampered because JFC why so many Smiths #Does Ichirou know Smith's first name?#Perhaps #Does he use it?#Probably not #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #FF - Pt. 28

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omenfailure · 17 days ago

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I need to spread more Volcano Manor propaganda, especially of Rykard and Tanith. I enjoy their dynamic and I believe they're the only couple that is actually, romantically, in love.

We know that Rykard met Tanith during an expedition in a "foreign land" and Tanith was initially a dancer.

"Long ago, when Rykard first set eyes on Tanith, she was working as a dancer in a foreign land. Soon, he made her his consort. She was the only human to remain by his side when he became the serpent of blasphemy. In that moment, Tanith was truly charmed by him."

Consort's Mask

In the Shadow of the Erdtree, they introduce the Ranah dancers. Not much is known about them, aside from their fiery passion and dedication.

"Bright-red hood of the Ranah dancers. Enhances the power of dancing attacks. The dance of Ranah is one of burning passion, and the most passionate dancers never allow their fiery dance to end, losing even their names as they dance on. To see the passion fade is to see the dancer's flame extinguished."

Dancer's Hood

After the Shattering, Rykard fed himself and his Golden Rune to the blasphemous serpent, becoming one. Tanith was offered the Tonic of Forgetfulness to purge herself of her memories of Rykard. She declined, claiming there was no greater distress than to forget him.

"Tonic in a small brass vial. Banishes distress and bitter memories. A gift bestowed by Rykard, sworn to blasphemy, to Lady Tanith, who unfortunately had no use for it. "My Lord, there could be no greater distress than to forget you.""

Tonic of Forgetfulness

Even upon Rykard's death, she stayed by his side, consuming him and wishing to host him once more.

Speaking to Tanith in Rykard's chamber.

"Dear Rykard, please find purchase within me," "I wish to be your serpent; your family." "One day, let us devour the gods together."

Tanith upon death.

"Oh, Rykard…" "Let me be your serpent…"

She ruled alongside Rykard during all of this, led the Recusants and took on a motherly role for Zorayas, who received an illusory human form to continue living as a human, unbeknownst to being a man-serpent.

Daedicar is presumably Rya's birth mother, as Rya drops Daedicar's Woe after Rykard has been slain.

"Disturbing likeness of a woman whose skin was flayed. She smiles with a serene tenderness. Increases damage taken. It is said that this woman, named Daedicar, indulged in every form of adultery and wicked pleasure imaginable, giving birth to a myriad of grotesque children."

Daedicar's Woe

A key item, Serpent's Amnion which is part of Rya's questline is found on the Temple of Eiglay. (Eglė the Queen of Serpents is a Lithuanian folk tale, as well.)

"Amnion from the mother's womb which cradled the poor unwanted offspring of a repellant birthing ritual. It will never dry out, remaining damp indefinitely."

Serpent's Amnion

I'm not gonna go over Rya's entire questline, but here's some key dialogue touching on Tanith and Rya.

Discovering Zorayas.

"Lady Tanith is my mother." "I am told I was born by the grace of a glorious king." "That my mother cherishes this form I inhabit." "I am proud of what I am." [...]

If talked to again.

"My serpentine form, and the name Zorayas," "were secrets known only to Lady Tanith and I." "Now I share the secrets with you, as well."

Asking Tanith about Zorayas.

Did you see her? The girl, Rya…with her true face. ... Well, if she confided in you the name Zorayas, then perhaps it is not my place to speak. But as her adoptive mother, I ask of you. Please, be kind to her. Look after young Zorayas. Her true visage belies the purity of her heart.… Honestly, I hardly deserve the sweet child.

When you give Rya the Serpent's Amnion near the end of the questline, she says as follows:

"I remember this scent, distinctly" "...." "Funny, isn't it." "I am certain of it. " "I was born inside this." "It's a part of my birth mother." "You have my gratitude." "Thanks to you, I am no longer afraid." "I want to know. How I was born, and met Lady Tanith." "One day, I hope to call her mother once again, this time from the bottom of my heart."

Rya sees Tanith as her mother, despite having her truth be shrouded for her entire life. When Rya seeks the truth of her origin and Volcano Manor, Tanith offers the Tonic of Forgetfulness to the Tarnished, the one thing she refused herself for so long. A last resort.

"May I ask your aid?" "Not as the Manor's proprietress, but as Zorayas' mother." "If she discovers the answer to her question," and it causes distress, have her drink this potion." "To purge that which would cause her pain."

Speaking to her after taking it.

"Yes, I know." "My wish is a grave disrespect to her." "No different than the Erdtree's imposition." "But I've no choice..." "It must be done."

After giving Rya the Tonic of Forgetfulness.

"Thank you, for allowing me this." "I will never be a good mother. " "My heart is too frail." "Our Lord must have known this all along." "My meekness is all too clear..." "Sweet Zorayas, have I earned your scorn?"

At the end of Rya's questline, if you let her life and abstain from giving her to Tonic of Forgetfulness, she leaves the Daedicar's Woe and Zorayas Letter, which reads:

Farewell letter written in an inexpert hand. "I wish to set out on a journey. So that one day, I can carry on Mother's work. Be the proud daughter of Tanith of Volcano Manor. Farewell. You've always been so kind. So uncompromising. My champion."

I don't have a lot to say aside from the fact I love the contrast of Tanith in Volcano Manor, being a human at the end of the day. She's a mother, she nurses Rya and cares for her as if she's her own. She loves her Lord. She knows she is loved, too.

She's not perfect, but I find her very real and very underrated. I adore her relationship to Rya and the level of respect they have for each other, yet acknowledging their own flaws and navigating the difficulties set upon them by Rykard's choice of blasphemy.

I likely missed some stuff and someday maybe I'll write something more in depth, but I wanted to explore what we already had readily available in the game.

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #praetor rykard #rykard lord of blasphemy #lady tanith #proprietress tanith #rya the scout #rya elden ring #tanith elden ring #zorayas

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unhonestlymirror · 5 months ago

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Day of Dance, Dainų Šventė Fest 2024, Lithuania

#Lithuania #Baltic #Baltics #Lithuanian dance #folk dance #dainų šventė #photography

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marsprincess889 · 1 year ago

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NAKSHATRAS AS GODDESSES

1/27

🐎ASHWINI🐎

DISCLAIMER: This is based solely on my research and the patterns that I saw. I can't promise that I'm gonna be sure in all the coorelations, but I'm going to attribute each nakshatra a goddess that I think fits it the closest. If you're dissapointed, to make up for it, I'm going to list some other deities in the end that I think also fit the nakshatra. Don't come for me if you think I'm wrong, be respectful in the comments if you think so and have fun 🤍

While researching, at first it was obvious that no deity was as perfect for Ashwini as Ashwini Kumaras themselves. I still tried to search for a Goddess that would be most similar to this nakshatra's energies and I kid you not, I've found the exact goddess I was looking for. Definitely was not expecting this.

Saule

Pronounced "sow-lay"

Pantheon: Lithuanian

Name meaning: The sun

Main associations: The Sun, fertility, healing, helping women and children, red apple, gold.

Symbols: The Sun, apples, colors gold and red.

The Baltic people believed the Sun to be a disc, dancing and rolling around. Saule is the literal representation of the sun, who, not unlike the Greek god Helios, rides a chariot pulled by two horses. The horses are mostly described as white and sometimes golden, and they're called, believe it or not, the Asviniai. It seems that the word has an Indo-European root.

The deities assigned to Ashwini are Ashwini Kumaras_twin horsemen, depicted as young, healthy and handsome men who can heal people.

Like their power, Saule is associated with healing, regeneration and also fertility. She rides in her copper-wheeled carriage with her trusted horses, flying through the sky every day, bringing light and warmth to Earth. In regards to her appearance, she's frequently depicted with long golden hair, as well as being associated with gold and amber in general. She's described as being dressed in golden silk. Being the goddess of health and vitality, she had horses that would never tire nor sweat.

At night Saule would bathe her horses and go to the underworld. She was married to the moon god Menesis. Their first child was Earth, then followed other children: the Stars. It's said that her husband was very carefree, sometimes sneaking out of their castle in his moon carriage, thus leaving the world to darkness. Despite having a husband, ultimately, Saule is a sovereign and independent goddess.

As the setting sun, Saule is known as the falling red apple, a ring or a crown. She's strongly associated with the color red, and also apples and apple trees. Other plants associated with her are daisies, sunflowers, roses and linden.

Saule is honored every year at summer solstice.

I want to talk a little about why I coorelated her to Ashwini but first, I'll talk about the goddess extremely similar to her- Norse goddess Sol/ Sunna. She's also associated with the sun, healing, regeneration and has a chariot pulled by two horses, one of which is called Allsvinn (very fast), the other is called Arvak (early rising). Also, one of her many names literally means "Gold".

I think the association of these goddesses with Ashwini kumaras is clear, but I chose the Baltic goddess saule as to me the Baltic culture is more similar to Ashwini's energies than the Norse (You'll definitely see Norse goddesses in this series tho). Baltic people also have gods which are basically their equivalent of Ashwini Kumaras, twin horsemen gods called Ašvieniai. It's crazy to me that two cultures that you wouldn't think have anything in common basically share a deity.

Other deities that can be associated with Ashwini other than Saule:

Sunna- Norse goddess of the Sun, healing and fertility.

Ašvieniai- Baltic twin horsemen gods who have a gift of healing

Rhiannon- Celtic goddess known as "The Horse Queen", goddess of movement, leadership, the night, the moon and death.

Epona- Celtic goddess most strongly linked to horses (and you can tell by her name)

That's it for Ashwini🤍❤ I love my horse- people😅🤍 I genuinely do, there's no one like you guys, you are very healing and refreshing to be around. Keep going 🐎🐎

Don't forget to comment if u liked this or you can interact in any way .

#ashwini #ashwini nakshatra #baltic mythology #saule #goddess saule #nakshatras #vedic astrology #ashwini kumaras #sun goddess #sun in ashwini #moon in ashwini #ascendant in ashwini #moon in ashwini nakshatra #sun in ashwini nakshatra #ascendant in ashwini nakshatra #ketu in ashwini #ketu in ashwini nakshatra

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blackswaneuroparedux · 2 years ago

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There is no beauty in Music itself, the beauty is within the listener.

- Igor Stravinsky

“The idea of The Rite of Spring came to me while I was still composing Firebird,” Igor Stravinsky recalled, 45 years after the ballet’s first performance in 1913, in his book Conversations. “I had dreamed of a scene of pagan ritual in which a chosen sacrificial virgin danced herself to death.” If Stravinsky is to be believed, this dream marked the beginning of a process that culminated in the premiere of one of the 20th century’s most important musical works.

Stravinsky’s music was meant to capture the spirit of the scenario, which he had outlined with the help of painter and ethnographer Nikolai Roerich and dancer and choreographer Mikhail Fokine during the spring and summer of 1910. Roerich had filled Stravinsky’s head with tales about all sorts of rituals from ancient Russia – divinations, sacrifices, dances, and so on – involving a variety of characters. The ballet that resulted revolves around the return of spring and the renewal of the earth through the sacrifice of a virgin. In his handwritten version of the story, Stravinsky described The Rite as “a musical choreographic work. It represents pagan Russia and is unified by a single idea: the mystery and the great surge of the creative power of spring….”

Stravinsky completed the score on 29 March 1913, and exactly two months later, the ballet premiered in Paris at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, where it caused the famous scandal that ushered in modern music. Nijinsky’s choreography and the wild, unchecked power of Stravinsky’s score were something wholly new. Stravinsky wrote for one of his largest orchestras ever in The Rite of Spring, and he used it with an assurance and confidence one would hardly expect from a composer just out of his twenties and with only two big successes - The Firebird and Petrushka - behind him.

But those two scores, for all of their individuality and accomplishment, did not seem like they were leading to The Rite of Spring. What Stravinsky did was totally unexpected.

The stage action during the ballet’s second half, leading up to the sacrifice, was enough to capture the attention of even that raucous audience at the first performance. Finally quiet, they could hear Stravinsky’s score and watch as Maria Piltz, the dancer who played the sacrificial victim, stood motionless as the ritual unfolded around her, gradually coming to life to perform her dance, with its angular contortions and tortured motions.

What actually happened on that scandalous night will always be a mystery to some degree, because the reports contradict each other. Was it the choreography that annoyed people, or the music? Were the police really called? Was it true that missiles were thrown, and challenges to a duel offered? Were the creators booed at the end, or cheered?

The dancer Dame Marie Rambert remembered that right at the beginning ‘a shout went up in the gallery: “Un docteur!" (Call a doctor!). Somebody else shouted louder, “Un dentiste!" (a dentist!)’. The aristocrat Harry Kessler said that people started to whisper and joke almost immediately. Stravinsky himself was so angry that he stormed out and went backstage to help the dancers keep time.

What is certain is that the audience was shocked - and with good reason. Stravinsky’s score for The Rite of Spring contradicted every rule about what music should be. The sounds are often deliberately harsh, right from opening Lithuanian folk melody, which is played by the bassoon in its highest, most uncomfortable range. The music was cacophonously loud, assaulting the ears with thunderous percussion and shrieking brass. Rhythmically it was complex in a completely unprecedented way. In the ‘Ritual of the Rival Tribes’ the music unfolds in two speeds at once, in a ratio of 3:2. And it makes lavish use of dissonance, i.e. combinations of notes which don’t make normal harmonic sense. ‘The music always goes to the note next to the one you expect,’ wrote one exasperated critic.

Then there was the dance, choreographed by Nijinsky. According to some observers this was what really caused the scandal at the first night. When the curtain rose the audience saw a row of ‘knock-kneed and long-braided Lolitas jumping up and down’ as Stravinsky called them, who seemed to jerk rather than dance. Classical dance aspired upwards, in defiance of gravity, whereas Nijinsky’s dancers seemed pulled down to the earth. Their strange, stamping movements and awkward poses defied every canon of gracefulness.

Both the music and the dance of The Rite of Spring seemed to deny the possibility of human feelings, which for most people is what gives art its meaning. As Stravinsky put it, ‘there are simply no regions for soul-searching in The Rite of Spring’. This is what separates it so decisively from Stravinsky’s hit of 1911, Petrushka. There we’re immersed in a human world, which exudes the very specific cultural ambience of Russia. It’s true that the main characters are puppets, rather than rounded human beings. But they have characters, even if they’re somewhat rudimentary, and at the end there’s even a suggestion that Petrushka might have a soul.

* Pina Bausch's interpretation of Stravinksy's Rite. A masterpiece of modern dance.

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mmargiris · 6 months ago

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Song Festival 2024. Ensemble evening "Tree of Life"

#lithuanian #feast #last pagan #pagan #family #dance

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antiquewhim · 1 year ago

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Enough postponing, here's my attempt at making something comprehensive on one of the most varied creatures in Lithuanian folklore: laumės (Art credits: Marcė Katiliūtė)

Basically, laumės are groups of humanoid women, connected with water, birch, night and the act of weaving. Primarily considered bridges between humans and gods, they inhabit forests while having the ability to summon rain and weave rainbows.They interact with people by bathing in saunas after everyone is gone. Appeased laumės are said to leave textiles as a reward for a clean, warm sauna or any offerings made to them. Their day is Thursday, just like Perkūnas' and they're most active during the night.

Now onto complicated stuff: there are many variations when it comes to laumės’ appearance. Age ranges from young to old, some are said to have metal nails, some have chicken feet and feathered bodies hiding under white clothes which let them interact with humans. The earliest depiction of laumės was in the form of a dove, the bird of Goddess Laumė, sometimes as goat-headed or horned women, bears, cats. They’re either depicted as incredibly alluring and sexual or grotesque and terrifying. Their views towards humans also change: they can be only dangerous to men, sometimes they’re most dangerous to babies, which they exchange for bundles of wheat in the crib, the bundles growing into laumiukai (similar to fae changelings) overnight. It is unclear what they do to the stolen babies. In some tales they're shown as very ruthless, uncaring of their safety, in others they're maternal, stealing out of desire for motherhood and accidentally killing the babies out of love. Sometimes they can be helpful to weavers, however this is achieved only after guessing a riddle or obeying a specific rule, on Thursdays. Even then, should a laumė run out of material, she'll weave in hair or intestines of the woman whose work she's finishing.

Overall, laumės can be called morally grey: they're wonderful seamstresses who gift their handiwork to humans, but at the same time deadly, being able to thinly slice and weave an entire person as if they were wool.

SPECULATION: Their origin is quite interesting. I think that there may be a tie between them and the matriachal goddess Laumė (shown below), who, after having a child with a human man, was "banished" to Earth by the new patriarchal gods but this is JUST my opinion that is not based off of any source and moreso speculative connections between Laumė and laumės

Laumės are associated with mistletoe and similar parasitic plants seen on birch trees, from which they like to swing. Some sources claim that the so-called “laumė broom” can banish laumiukai from a home when they're beaten with it. Their ties with bodies of water, by which they dance and summon rain and new moon are also apparent, as well as their specific fear of flax. Though beings with many variations, they are the most famous characters in Lithuanian folklore along with aitvarai.

#viltės threads #folklore #eastern europe #lithuania #lithuanian folklore #lithuanian mythology #mythology

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the-idle-woman · 9 months ago

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Black Wings at Midnight

Shyly sharing my first Hannibal fanfic: a reimagining of Seasons 1-3 set during World War II in Britain. It comes complete with vintage-style illustrations and links to suggested listening (ranging from Handel to 1940s' swing).

See below for the summary, and under the cut for an extract.

When former detective Will Graham is pulled away from his intelligence work at Bletchley Park in 1942, to consult on a hauntingly familiar crime scene, he feels alive for the first time in years. But when his life begins falling apart, he finds himself thrown into a complex dance of trust and suspicion with the man assigned to help him: an aristocratic Lithuanian flying ace and peacetime psychiatrist, whose intentions are anything but clear…

If you do decide to give it a read, I hope you enjoy it, and would love it if you took the time to leave a comment. Hearing people's expectations and thoughts as they read has been the most enjoyable part of sharing this online. Thank you all, and sending hugs from London.

From Black Wings at Midnight: Chapter 3

‘May I come in?’

The voice is deep, with a warm lilt of an Eastern European accent. Crawford’s eyes brighten and he rises from the desk with what Will considers unseemly haste.

‘Aha! Now here’s a familiar face. Come in, come in, old chap. Pull up a chair. This is Will Graham, who I mentioned on the phone. Brilliant mind. Brilliant.’

Will scowls at the praise and turns in his chair, prepared to be combative. He has no great love for the airmen of the RAF. They are nothing more than overgrown public schoolboys, with their chummy nicknames and their maverick flair. In their presence, Will feels his carapace stripped away, exposed as an awkward provincial with a clumsy accent, a different breed from these sauntering gods of the sky.

The newcomer does little to dispel his prejudices. The flattering RAF uniform makes most men look good, but this fellow seems to have stepped straight out of an advertisement. J.C. Leyendecker in the flesh, Will thinks bitterly, feeling short, and dark, and rustic.

Nothing about this man is rustic: dark blond hair parted with almost surgical precision; a broad chest and shoulders beneath the blazon of the RAF wings; trousers ironed to crisp perfection; tie perfectly centred. Everything about him screams money, from the scent of his cologne to the small gold signet ring just visible on his little finger.

After spending long hours digging into the minds of the Nazi commanders, Will can’t resist a snort. Good God, how they would love you!

Light brown eyes linger on Will for a moment, already looking amused.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Graham. I apologise for interrupting your colloquy, but Jack is an old friend. I was delighted to hear he was visiting us. May I?’ He gestures to the unused chair before the desk and Will raises a shoulder minutely, neither inviting nor repelling. He settles for glaring across at Jack. He doesn’t wish to spend any longer here than necessary, and he certainly doesn’t want to play third wheel to some back-slapping reunion.

‘Will,’ says Jack, ‘this is Flight Lieutenant Hannibal Lecter – or should I say Dr Lecter?’ The two men exchange a twinkle of camaraderie and Will stifles a desire to stab the table with his pencil. ‘We met before the war,’ Jack continues. ‘Dr Lecter has a private psychiatry practice on Harley Street, and helped us with a profile for the Bethnal Green Killer in ’38.’

Will remembers the case. It wasn’t long after he’d been signed off, still gathering together the shreds of himself in the nursing home. He allows himself a glance sideways.

‘Strange to swap the comforts of Harley Street for a wet field in Hampshire, Dr Lecter. Get tired of listening to rich old ladies?’

‘I “got” patriotic,’ Lecter says gently. ‘My country was invaded last year. Lithuania,’ he adds, for Will’s benefit. ‘I have not lived there for many years, but old affections still linger: a sense of duty, if you will. I learned to fly when I was younger’ – Of course you did, thinks Will bitterly – ‘so why not put my skills in the service of my adopted country?’

‘And he’s become quite the terror,’ Jack says cheerfully. ‘Give him a Spitfire and he’s absolutely fearless. They say Göring’s offered a bounty to anyone who brings him down.’ He dismisses Lecter’s gesture of modest denial and turns back to Will. ‘When I heard he was stationed here, I thought it’d be helpful to have his thoughts – and his support too, of course.’

‘Convenient,’ Will says under his breath, studying his fingers. He feels Lecter’s eyes lingering on him with something that’s uncomfortably close to satisfaction. For a moment he entertains himself, wondering whether he loathes fighter aces more or less than psychiatrists. It comes out as a balance. The airmen are more irritating, but he has bitter personal experience of his own with psychiatry.

‘Come now, Jack,’ Lecter says, ‘you are not being completely honest with Mr Graham.’ He leans a little closer, offering Will a lungful of his expensive cologne, and his voice drops, as though this is a secret to be shared between them. ‘Jack has asked me to have a few conversations with you before you start on this case. Just to help prepare your armour for the field of battle, as it were.’

Will’s eyes snap up to Jack Crawford, who has the grace to look embarrassed.

‘Will, I’ve read your files. It’s my job to make sure you’re fit for duty. I want to help you in any way I can.’

‘I don’t find it helpful to be covertly psychoanalysed!’

‘This is not psychoanalysis,’ Lecter says placidly into the awkward silence, ‘merely a common interest. You have nothing to fear, Mr Graham. Besides,’ he adds, straightening his cuffs, ‘I am not a psychoanalyst. Freud may have some interesting principles, and Jung has made many valuable insights into my field, but I do not ride under their banner. Biological psychiatry is very different from asking you to tell me your dreams.’ Dark eyes dart up and catch Will’s just as he makes the mistake of looking up. Something coils in the pit of his stomach. ‘Though I have no doubt your dreams must be a fascinating place.’ …

‘Just a conversation,’ Will hears himself say.

‘But of course.’ Lecter shrugs in a Gallic fashion. ‘And we can give dear Jack a good night’s sleep. Just a conversation or two among friends.’

‘Associates,’ Will snaps back. Lecter laughs as if he has said something delightful.

‘God forbid we should become friendly. Come with me to the mess, Mr Graham. Let’s get some tea.’

Will feels wrong-footed. He wants to prod; to offend; to get under Lecter’s skin and force him to feel even the faintest echo of Will’s crippling discomfort. He feels like a parcel passed from Jack to Lecter, a fragile curiosity to be wrapped in cotton wool and discussed in lowered voices. He feels lonely and patronised, and because, to his deep-seated disgust, he finds himself wanting Lecter to like him, Will lashes out.

‘I doubt we’ll be friends, Dr Lecter. I don’t find you that interesting.’

A hand falls on his shoulder. To Jack, frowning in his chair, it’ll look comradely, a way to show that no offence has been taken. To Will, the touch is unsettling: part warning, conveyed through the grip of fingers far stronger than he’d anticipated; and part protective caress. I don’t, Will repeats doggedly in his head, find you interesting.

‘Ah,’ Lecter says softly in his ear, ‘but you will.’

#hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram

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