#as a viola player i believe this is how the world should be

[asleep-and-afraid]

a girl handed me her viola while she played mine and i immediately noticed how small the viola felt in my hands. and then i plucked the strings and was like hm i think someones put a G string where your C should be! and hey why’s your A sounding like an E? this is a funny looking viola dude!- OH.

[heytherecentaurs]

Burrow's End is an absolute masterpiece.

In the span of ten episodes Aabria and Co. weave an exciting and emotional adventure story about a family of sentient stoats. It delivers huge laughs, interesting societal criticism, remarkably emotional and well-acted scenes and concludes with a series of epilogue scenes that feel appropriate for each character, some heartfelt and subdued and others bigger than life and all the funnier for it.

Siobhan and Izzy play the perfect pair of siblings. They fight and argue but they also love each other. Jaysohn (Siobhan) looks up to Lila (Izzy) and believes she's the smartest stoat in the world (and by the end she probably is) and Lila hypes up her little brother's athletic skills. They both fully embodied these kids and I could watch them do fun stuff for more episodes. Give me a version of Saved by the Bell with them. Stoat by the Bell.

Brennan and Rashawn, playing sisters, also knock it outta the park, showing a more mature sibling dynamic. Brennan portrays Tula as the quintessential overtired single mother of excitable kids, and Rashawn as younger sister Viola straddles a very interesting line of being intimidating to outsiders but very much more naive and looking to her older sister when she starts a family.

Jasper as Thorn, a guy everyone just lets be a cult leader because he really wanted to, is fantastic. His is a difficult role as the only non-blood relative. Jasper plays Thorn with such real humanity of a guy in over his head and letting his ambition wife call the shots, but also one who agrees with her goal, really loves her and has moments of real menace. He has some very funny scenes, his big speech is perfect, and I just enjoy him.

Erika is wonderful. They play the epitome of generational trauma as many have said but as much trauma as Ava has, she is also loving and willing to learn. The fact Erika took this adversarial role is incredible. The tense dramatic scene primarily between Ava, Tula and Viola is amazing. They act their asses off and make hard choices that I imagine are difficult even for such an experienced player.

Aabria's DMing always feels fun. She doesn't get bogged down in the rules. She knows them. She plays by them. But as a master, she knows how and when to break them too. Her seasons on Dimension 20 have all had a tenseness, a particular edge to them that can give me anxiety during dramatic scenes between two characters. It always feel like one of her NPCs may say something devastating and the tension between characters reaches really thrilling heights. This is present in other seasons, but I don't think anyone does it as well as she does. The first season of hers to have battle maps, Aabria really swung for the fences and gave us some of the wildest maps to date.

Shout out to Carlos Luna's voice acting. He did an incredible job. And shout out to the whole crew who have put together one of the best seasons of D20. They keep finding ways to build on what's come before and they should be commended for it.

Dimension 20 is most successful when the concept is very streamlined. They don't do huge 100 episode campaigns capable of handling huge winding complex narrative, but short focused D&D stories, which is why many of the Side Quests have been so fantastic. They embody this philosophy most clearly, but it's apparent in the most beloved Intrepid Heroes seasons as well—John Hughes/High Fantasy, Game of Thrones/Candyland, Retrofuturism, Film Noir but in a Brain... Burrow's End fits this perfectly. It's streamlined concept paired with great storytellers and great chemistry sets it up to be a smash hit before it begins. And goddamn does it deliver.

Thanks Stupendous Stoats!

[smeraldos]

Cheers

Summary: In a time of shoulder pads and tight deadlines, no one gives you the time of day. Good thing silver linings exist, like your annoyingly perceptive co-worker.

retro office!AU

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 1K+

Notes: ‘70s slang: jiving = kidding, stone cold fox = a person who's beyond attractive Computer Space: space combat arcade video game Shakespeare refs: Viola disguises herself as a young man (Cesario) in Twelfth Night...basically if you’ve watched She’s The Man, you get the gist.

“All the world’s a stage,/And all the men and women merely players...” - As You Like It

"How's our employee of the month?" 

Without looking up, you know Taehyung has stopped by, leaning against your cubicle like usual. He's the only one who calls you that. To everyone else, the best is Jeongguk: choice analyst, Wharton wonder-whiz, second to none. 

You’re just "a team player." Sweet talk for lackey. You do the work no one else wants to do, but this evening, your boss caved and assigned you the report he'd normally give Jeongguk. The bad thing: he'd informed you on a Friday night, so you still haven't gone out for dinner.

Taehyung dangles a Kit Kat in front of your screen.

You dismiss it with a swat, making it drop on your keyboard with a clack. Now the debt your client owes is 1343400000000 bucks.

Stellar.

"Shoot," Taehyung says, rushing over the second you bury your face into your palms. "Sorry, I--" 

His apology dies when you uncover your face, laughing. 

"What are you sorry for," you ask lightly, gesturing to your screen. "Look at those zeroes. It's like we've won the fricking lotto."

Hesitantly, Taehyung takes a glance. His handsome face -- yes, you admit he's a stone cold fox (although the hottest thing you’ve seen of late was your monitor burning up) -- is devoid of humor.

"Oh, come on," you insist. "I can fix this in a jiffy. Why don't you ask me that question? The one we always joke about."

Instead, Taehyung offers you a look soft with concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks.

"Work, obviously.” You lay your head on the desk, too tired to open up your heart like Pandora's box. “My life. You not asking the right question."

"Fine. You want me to ask you how it feels to win a million?”

“Feels like a scam, thank you."

Taehyung sighs, claiming Jeongguk’s seat next to you. "You can't keep doing this, _______. Take a break."

"Tell that to Jeongguk."

"He isn't here."

"That's funny, I didn’t notice," you say, and it’s cruel, but you don’t care. You’re sick of being in Jeongguk’s shadow. "You should get going, too. Wouldn't want to be left behind with the bottom feeder."

Swiftly, you sit up, correcting the debt and letting the formulas do the trick. When you reach over to click on another sheet, you realize your mouse isn't there. Or anywhere under your desk, for that matter.

"Taehyung," you bite out, "stop jiving. Give me back my mouse."

"You're not a bottom feeder."

"Thanks. Now give it here." You pin him with a look that leaves no room for leeway, holding out your hand expectantly.

He places his on top. "I'm being serious."

"So am I." 

"Listen,” he says, “you're not Jeongguk."

"Clearly,” you quip. “Life would be a lot easier if I were."

Again, Taehyung sighs, visibly exasperated. "Jeongguk this, Jeongguk that. You’ve gotta stop putting him on some pedestal and beating yourself up because you can’t be like him. You’re ruining your own worth, you know.”

"Like I have any to begin with,” you scoff. “No one thinks, Oh, _______, now there’s a woman I respect. No one. Shelley is the only other woman in the office and she's been at this gig for years. She's always giving me flack. I know she's angling for a promotion that should have happened a long time ago and everything's a competition, but I can't survive being me. I just can't." Outside your window, diners and disco clubs dazzle the night, washed out by the glare of your office. The stupid fluorescence is too strong, imposing a reflection of your cubicle onto the city.

"I know it’s not much," Taehyung starts, giving your hand a brief squeeze, "but if it's respect you want, you already have it. Let me give you my two cents, too?"

“Sure."

"Don't play their game. If you stick with Jeongguk’s level when it was meant to hold you back, you won't win." “So you're saying I'll lose?” There's an edge to your voice. Taehyung, of all people, should know the last thing you need is a friend shooting your hopes down.

"Think about what their game is based on in the first place. A system where men and women have equal value or one where women would always mean less?"

"That's why I'm fighting," you counter. "I have to prove them wrong."

"It's hard to prove anything when they're set on keeping you down."

"But I can try."

"Aren't you doing that already? And how did that turn out?" "I can't believe you," you seethe, ignoring the tears pricking your eyes. "I’ve worked way too hard for you to reduce it to nothing, you--" "I know,” he cuts in, gentle. “I know. You've worked your tail off, and no one deserves more credit than you. But if they won't admit that, if they see nothing, what's the point of playing their game?"

You don't want to know. All this time, you'd thought the best way to be seen was to beat the men at their own work, and that meant besting Jeongguk, who almost all your colleagues seem to worship. You'd adopted a tone as brisk as you walked, ditched your collar dresses for crisp pantsuits (the stiffer the shoulder pads, the better), and timed your work so you'd always finish before Jeongguk. Lately, your efforts seemed to bear fruit: you were invited to meetings and then there was the report your boss assigned. But having a foot in the door meant little when you had to act like a man for it. They still ushered you to the back, anyway, and no one asked for your opinion, let alone remembered your name or what you did. They just didn't care. And that hurt more than sticks and stones ever will.

"Nothing, alright?" You tell Taehyung at last, wiping your tears bitterly. "I get it now. All the world's a stage and I played the fool."

"Not the fool," he disagrees, taking your mouse out of Jeongguk’s drawer and plugging it back into your computer, "Cesario. And now you get to be Viola again."

Trust Taehyung to know you're referring to Shakespeare. You smile, shaking your head, and he pulls you up into a hug. 

"Welcome back, _______," he says. "Let’s celebrate with a round of Computer Space? It’s on me."

You laugh into his shoulder. “You’re such a sore loser, Kim.”

"Bogus. I wasn't playing seriously last time."

"We’ll see about that.”

[dungeons-and-divination]

BARD College of WHISPERS - HALFLING Lightfoot - Gambler

I know it’s been a long time since that introduction post, but I wanted to have some things ready before getting this blog started. And now, here we are. The first actual “character analysis” thingy is here. I hope you enjoy it.

Name: Cora Wildheart (34yo)

TAROTS

Mind: The hanged man (upright) Cora is the kind of person that struggles a lot with dilemmas. She overthinks important things to the point of feeling trapped by the need of taking a decision. She sometimes loses perception of the situation at hand and just tries to find a getaway from it. That’s usually when she ends up making very stupid decisions and getting into trouble. 

Body: Five of cups (upright) This is kind of a hard one. To me it immediately talked about a physical loss Cora had to deal with. While she still tries not to cry over it and hide her suffering behind a brave face and a shiny smile, she still has a lot of lingering anger brewing under the surfaces. Which made me wonder if she still blames more herself for this loss other than someone else.

Spirit: Four of swords (reversed) Like I just said, her physical loss really did a number on her all around. Hence why her spirit is very hurt. She had a deep need for self-care to heal from it and she tried isolating. Didn’t really work apparently (figures, a bard usually thrives with an audience, after all). Yet, maybe going out in the world once again might be the right way for her to find a sense of new self and new mental strength.

Past: Ace of wands (upright) Cora’s past is filled with a discovery of potential, with the fiery attitude of a person that is always up to a new challenge, that loves to embrace the creative spark that’s been gifted to her. There’s also an undertone of fertility in this card, that added up with that physical loss coming from her body, made me think that she gave birth and maybe things didn’t really end up in the best way possible.

Present: Five of wands (reversed) In general, this card gives me a huge vibe that because of her past, at present Cora struggles with confrontation. Like, she doesn’t like them at all. So she either does everything she can to put an end to them, or she avoids them. I feel like it could go either way depending on the kind of confrontation; she could be very aggressive and hot tempered about it and fight tooth and nails. Or be very shy and demure to the point of just giving up for the sake of ending the conversation.

Future: Knight of cups (upright) So, this is a hard one for Cora. Because at this point with what I had with the previous cards I kind of had built up in my mind that she lost both the person she loved and a child at birth. And this card is mostly about following your heart, finding warm affection and even diplomacy, which I just explained is something she struggles with. Since it’s a “future” card I feel like it should mostly work as a suggestion on what you should look out for her while playing. I suggest leaning on the conflicts, especially within the party (yet, react as you feel is appropriate for her at the time). There lies her growth as a character (and maybe some love).

FULL BACKSTORY

Abandoned at birth, Cora always considered family her adoptive moms, Yeselle and Diafira, and her 2 older brothers, Milosh and Reed. She never had many luxuries in life, but she was lucky enough to live in a very big house, even if she had to share it with the entire Wildheart family (composed of Diafira’s older brothers, Evan, Ander, Barvias, Coramin and their families). She had a happy childhood, filled with laughter and the friendship of her many many cousins. Yet, that demure life of sacrifices left her with a desire to find a quick way to get richer, especially once she got exposed to the outside world around her teenage years. While at first she was a patron at one of the clubs in her town where there was a lot of gambling, she was quickly noticed by an enforcer of the criminal syndicate that run the place, mainly for her beauty but also for her way with words (which was the reason why she was even allowed to be in the club in the first place). For a time she was kind of an insider at tables, the kind of player planted just to make big spenders think they were winning before making them go for the big hit and have them lose lots of money. But being there, exposed to the life of the club, especially before and after opening hours, had her dabbling with the instruments of the people that performed at the club. She quickly picked up a knack for playing, and put her free time and money to have people teach her how to play the viola and the flute (and taught herself how to play water glasses just to use it as a trick at the tables to distract/annoy people while playing). It was because of her passion of hanging out with the entertainment of the club after closing hour, that Cora fell in love with one of the performers, Oswald Fiddlefun. The lad convinced her that she would never really get to be a performer as long as she kept working in the club, cause the syndicate was more interested in the money she was bringing them as a plant at tables than her talent with any instrument. So, after planning for a couple of weeks, she decided to run away to pursue a life as an artist on the road with him. It didn’t really work that well. From the start they realized that neither of them really had the skills necessary to live without the support of a company while on the road. And even when they were in some village or town, an unknown duo of performers was not paid really that much, sometimes not even in room and board for the night. Still, they tried to hang onto each other and Cora even got pregnant soon enough. After months of a life of misery and traveling, with Cora very much pregnant and both of them struggling to find their way out of a forest in the middle of nowhere, they were attacked by a group of bandits. While Cora was very meek and tried to give everything she had to the bandits to protect her yet to be born child, Oswald was a true coward: he created a distraction and as soon as he could, he run away, leaving Cora behind, alone with the bandits.  After that sudden show of magic from Oswald, the bandits were even more convinced they had to be hiding something precious and pressure Cora. Despite all the crying and repeating of how dirt poor she actually was, none of them believed her; tired of her whining, they decided to just kill her and get whatever she was hiding from her corpse.  Left for dead with a couple of deep stab wounds to her torso, Cora was saved by a druid that was alerted by the noise of the bandits running away while complaining of the meagre spoils. The druid, that she later found out was called Tianamin, took her to his village. There she was healed properly, yet there was nothing anyone could do to save her baby. Still mourning the loss of the baby boy and trying to deal with the anger of Oswald leaving her to die and never even looking back or trying to search for her, Cora stayed with at the druid’s village for some time, reflecting on what she wanted to do with her future. Sick and tired of depending on other people, she decided to become the only person she would trust with saving herself and really started learning the ways of a true bard.

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Charisma and Dexterity, Low Strength and Intelligence. Skill proficiencies: Persuasion, Perception, Sleight of hands Musical instrument proficiencies: viola, flute, water glasses (as already mentioned) Others: a multiclass in rogue could be a good idea, but it might feel a little too much on the nose with her background. So you do you.

Suggested Characteristics Trait: The perfect bet is out there somewhere. I just have to keep my eyes open. Ideal: You can’t win if you’re dead. Live to fight another day, when the odds might be in your favor. Bond: A criminal syndicate I once played for isn’t happy I left the game and its enforcers are looking for me. (There is also still that grudge with Oswald, fyi.) Flaw: No one wants to know my real story. So I make up a new one each time.

[bluerosewrites]

Rewrite the Stars

Guys I DID THE THING! It’s a Good Omens AU with some Greatest Showman inspiration. Check it out? Either here or it’s also on AO3

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2355

Summary: This is a drabble involving an AU of my own creation, one where Antonia Crowley is a badass viola player in a punk band, and Zira Fell is one of her best friends. They’re both obviously pining for each other but neither is brave enough to act on those feelings. Until now.This is a oneshot that may turn into more, I’m not sure where it’s going yet. I definitely at least plan on writing a few more songfics using Queen songs and songs from Greatest Showman.

Notes:So Zira and Toni are probably equal parts my own creation and equal parts canon Aziraphale and Crowley. I’ve left it fairly vague in terms of age and description. You can decide if this was merely after the apocanope, or if this is an entirely new universe with human Zira and Toni.If I decide to continue writing this AU those things will need to be figured out, but until then, feel free to imagine them as you wish. :)

Zira loved going to Toni’s shows. It was one of the highlights of her week. They were usually late at night and could stretch into the wee hours of the morning, but Zira didn’t mind. She didn’t sleep much anyway, and had a love/hate relationship with the concept.

Tonight, however, she was so nervous that she could barely stay conscious of the songs’ beginnings and ends, so she could applaud and cheer at the appropriate times. Forget listening to the lyrics.

She found her eyes drifting to Toni more often than she wanted to admit. Sometimes she would catch her eye and they’d hold each other’s gaze for a brief moment before one of them broke it. Toni had the best smiles when she was performing. And Zira thought at least a small percentage of them were directed at, even caused by, her.

“Alright, thank you so much, everyone, we’re going to take a brief break and then we’ll be back for our final set!” called out Mags, the lead singer of the band as well as a close friend to Zira and Toni. The band waved to the cheering crowd and made their way offstage. Most of the band headed to the bar for a refreshment on their drinks. One of the perks of playing these smaller bars was the free, or at least discounted, alcohol. Mags and Jamie found Zira in the crowd.

“You ready?” inquired Jamie, clapping a hand on Zira’s shoulder. She dried her increasingly sweaty hands on her plaid skirt before answering him.

“I mean….no?” she replied honestly, tucking her short, bleached blonde curls behind her ear. “But I have to do this.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” said Mags with a smile, running her hand comfortingly over Zira’s denim-jacket covered arm. “Before Jamie asked me out he was so nervous he threw up,” she laughs, playfully punching Jamie on the arm.

“Hey!” he cries, throwing his arms up in mock surrender before picking up Mags around her waist.

“Put me doooown,” Mags manages between laughs as Jamie swings her around in a semicircle. He finally complies, and the couple devolves into laughter. After a moment, their attention turns back to Zira, who has been watching this all unfold with a hand to her mouth, suppressing chuckles of her own. They really were a cute couple.

“So back to you,” Mags begins, clasping her hands together in front of her.

Zira sighs. “Back to me,” she says morosely.

“Hey, now, none of that,” Jamie croons, pulling Zira into a hug. She tucks her head under his chin, arms folded as his own encircle her. “You’ve got this,” he says, releasing her from the hug. One of his hands stays on her left shoulder while the other gently lifts her chin and encourages her to look him in the eyes, “We believe in you.”

Mags nods affirmatively, “We really do, Zir. And you know this song inside and out, you’ve been practicing.”

“Yeah,” says Jamie, and then confirms the plan, “So after our first encore, we’ll come back onstage and I’ll start the chords on my keytar for the song and to give you your starting note. The band knows to follow me once I start, and then we’ll follow you when you start singing. Okay?”

Zira nods, and does a few cleansing breaths to help release some of her nervous energy. She waves her friends off and they rush to get their drinks before jumping back onstage.

She’s sure the band performs well for their last set, but she’s too nervous to care that she’s missing it in the midst of her anxiety. Come on, Zira, get it together, she thinks to herself, trying to will her way through this. Before she knows it, she sees the band clear the stage. Shit. Encore already?

Far too quickly than should be possible, and certainly sooner than Zira would wish, she hears the final notes of the first song of the encore. That’s me, she thinks to herself. Jamie plays the chord, as promised. Zira takes a deep breath as the band starts the intro, but can’t bring herself to start the song. She catches Mags’ eye and pleads  for an assist.  

Only a couple measures late, Mags begins,

You know I want you

It’s not a secret I tried to hide

The band redoes a riff and meets Mags where she’s singing. Toni is playing her viola, but she has a very confused look on her face. She wasn’t part of the briefing Jamie did, as it’s her Zira wanted to pour her heart out to.

Our hero still can’t get enough air in her lungs, it seems to have been stolen by the room. Her heart pounds like it intends to leave her chest. Welp, this is it, this is how I go, she thinks.

Mags continues,

I know you want me So don’t keep saying our hands are tied You claim it’s not in the cards Fate is pulling you miles away And out of reach from me

Mags looks at Zira. She’s kind of worried now. Is this going to work? They lock eyes. Zira nods, closing her eyes and attempting to recompose herself.

Mags finishes the first verse,

But you’re here in my heart So who can stop me if I decide That you’re my destiny?

Zira finally finds the strength within herself to begin singing. She and Mags have a beautiful harmony going, with Zira’s alto voice melding with Mags’ soprano one. Zira doesn’t trust herself to look at Toni yet, though she knows she will need to. Instead, she stares straight at Mags and walks forward as they sing,

What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine Nothing could keep us apart You’d be the one I was meant to find It’s up to you, and it’s up to me No one can say what we get to be So why don’t we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours Tonight

The moment Zira started to sing, the crowd began to whoop and clap. They hadn’t seen anything like this before. They didn’t know what  was happening, but they liked it. Zira and Mags finished the first chorus and exchanged gleeful grins. Zira reached the stage and stretched up to grasp Mags’ hand. Mags gave her a reassuring squeeze. Zira turned, and locked eyes with Jamie. He gave her a nod, indicating he was soon to play the chord for her to come in with the second verse. She nodded back her understanding.

Slightly early due to nerves, she began singing,

You think it’s easy You think I don’t want to run to you But there are mountains And there are doors that we can’t walk through

She makes her way over to where Toni is standing. Toni slowly has stopped playing her viola, and her hands hang at her sides holding the viola in one hand and her bow in the other.

Zira doesn’t have the courage to look at her face yet, but vows to do so as she continues singing the verse,

I know you’re wondering why Because we’re able to be Just you and me Within these walls But when we go outside You’re going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all

Before she begins the chorus, Zira wipes her still-sweaty hands on her jacket and looks at the ground. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She delivers the next lines while staring into Toni’s eyes,

No one can rewrite the stars How can you say you’ll be mine? Everything keeps us apart And I’m not the one you were meant to find It’s not up to you It’s not up to me When everyone tells us what we can be How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours Tonight

During this interlude, Toni has hung up her viola on the wall and jumped off the stage. With tear-filled eyes, she grabs Zira’s hands and joins her as she sings,

All I want is to fly with you All I want is to fall with you So just give me all of you

Zira is slightly shocked by Toni’s response but carries on,

It feels impossible

Toni releases Zira’s left hand to grasp her chin, singing,

It’s not impossible

Zira snakes her other arm around Toni’s waist and pulls her closer, continuing,

Is it impossible?

The pair breaks apart but for one hand, turning to face the audience, together singing,

How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine? Nothing can keep us apart

Neither one knows who started it, but their joined hands raise and their free hands punch the sky, emphasizing their words,

‘Cause you are the one I was meant to find It’s up to you And it’s up to me

They turn and face each other, each grasping for the other as they rejoin their other set of hands,

No one can say what we get to be And why don’t we rewrite the stars? Changing the world to be ours

As the band begins the outro, Zira bites her lip and casts her eyes downward. Toni lifts her chin with one hand and cards the fingers of her other hand through Zira’s curls.

Toni smiles, and begins,

You know I want you

It’s not a secret I try to hide

Zira shyly returns the smile, and continues

But can I have you?

We’re bound to break and my hands—

Toni brings a finger to Zira’s lips and cuts off the last line with words of her own, softly spoken with soft eyes, “They’re mine,”

Zira gasps softly and blushes slightly.

“So…” she begins, “This was a good idea?” Her voice lilts up at the end, leaving no doubt to those listening of her nerves. “Because I wasn’t sure if…” She quickly devolves into anxious ramblings, pulling her hands from Toni in order to gesture. Toni smiles.

“Oh, angel, it was perfect,” she breathes, taking both of Zira’s hands between her own.

“Really? Oh, good, because I–” Zira began.

“Oh, hush,” scolded Toni gently, not really meaning it. She could listen to Zira ramble for hours. Had in fact.

Mags, Jamie, and the band hopped off the stage to surround the pair for a group hug. The group was beginning to discuss the plan and how it had all come about when a shout came out from the crowd.

“KISS HER!”

It was quickly followed by similar cries.

“Yeah, kiss her!”

“Come on!”

Soon enough a chant had started amongst the audience and bar patrons. “Kiss. Her. Kiss. Her. Kiss. Her. KISS HER!”

Toni turned to Zira, whose hands covered her tomato-red face. “Well, angel, what say you?”

Zira turned to Toni,  dropping her hands to her sides. “Oh, my dear, I don’t know…” she trailed off.

Not willing to admit defeat quite yet (but still respecting the rights of her angel), Toni tried again, “Pretty please?”

Zira turned to Toni with a crooked smile. “Awww. I thought you would never ask.” She winked as Toni let out a laugh.

“Oof!” She managed as Toni drew her close with a long arm around her middle. She smiled as Toni brought their faces closer, but still waited for confirmation. “Oh, my dear, have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are?” she breathed, and took advantage of the slight moment of shock  as Toni absorbed the compliment to finish closing the distance between them and pressed her lips to Toni’s.

And for a time, it was like they were the only two beings in the universe, like time stood still. Zira’s hands explored Toni’s back, and Toni’s fingers were tangled in Zira’s hair. Eventually, they needed to breathe and reluctantly broke apart.

The crowd whooped and the couple turned aside from each other for a moment to blush and smile.

“Well, angel, that was a thing,” Toni was the first to speak when the pair turned back to each other once more.

“Hmm. Indeed it was,” hummed Zira happily, “Meant the thing ‘bout your eyes though.”

Toni scoffed but a blush of her own was creeping up her neck.

“Alright, show’s over, shoo!” declared Mags, “We gotta pack up and get out of here!”

Zira chuckled and started helping the band tear down their equipment. She had barely starting coiling a cable when Mags took it out of her hand.

“Nuh-uh, not you two. You two go….off somewhere. I don’t need to know where you go or what you’re doing.”

Zira blushed a deeper shade of crimson as Toni grabbed her hand, saying “Well, come on, then, you heard her.”

“But—I–” Zira started to argue.

“No buts!” Mags exclaimed, wagging her finger at the two, “Well, a couple of butts, but I don’t wanna know.” She winked at Zira’s embarrassment as Toni starting dragging her from the bar. They were almost out the door when they heard “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” called out from their friend.

Once they reached the alley, Toni checked to see that they were alone before pulling Zira to face her. They stood, hand in hand, foreheads touching, for what seemed like forever.

“So….?” began Toni.

“So.” Breathed Zira.

“You could stay at my place. If you like,” Toni choked out, feeling the tension in the air. ���And there’s no pressure to, do anything…”

Zira cut Toni off with a finger to her lips and smiled. “I know, no matter what we do or don’t do tonight, I know how I feel. And you,” she punctuated these next few words with a finger to Toni’s collarbone, “you make me feel safe. So.”

Toni smiled, breathing out all her tension, “Alright, angel, I hear you. Back to mine, then?”

“I’d go to Alpha Centauri right now with you, if you asked,” said Zira breezily, “But for now, yes, back to yours.”

They walked off, hand in hand, discussing everything and nothing in the universe.

There you have it! Please let me know what you think! And also let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates.

@victoriagebo you’re tagged because your request for Crowley and Aziraphale to sing “Rewrite the Stars” semi-inspired this fic.

  @alinnsurana you’re tagged because you asked to be. :) 

[faemoria-arch]

@mammaterasu | | Boss Battle Music Numquam Vincar ~ Live ( Puella Magi Madoka Magica )

me : hmmm for what reason would Toothiana ever willingly present herself as an obstacle to Amaterasu in such a way so as to be a ‘boss battle’ for her . . . . me : oh i know she must have completely lost her fucking mind .

I’ve got one verse where I imagine Tooth could possibly stand against Amaterasu in any way outside of maybe chaotic psychological memory stuff , and that is her eldritch verse , but I have two diverging verses that lead up to that point . One is where she’s supposed to die and is literally just too stubborn to do so . The other is a private verse with @rulesfear where she ‘joins’ his efforts for the sheer sake of watching the world burn and either dies along with it or dances her way into cosmic-terror-hood . I’m borrowing that second verse for the purpose of this . So Tooth hasn’t reached full OP Universe Toying God Mode at this point , but she is getting there . Additionally she is pretty damn unhinged during this time , and also Amaterasu is going to kick her ass and Tooth knows it .

I probably don’t need to point this out but this song doesn’t start off very ‘boss-battle’-y . That’s because I can’t imagine momma doggo wants to fight Tooth , and Tooth also sorta doesn’t want to fight momma doggo outside of the fact that she wants to fight everything at least a little bit , and momma doggo is like ‘ there is literally no way you are going to win this ‘ and tooth is like

SO , music starts off very calm , pretty somber , it makes me think of Amaterasu herself and I can’t imagine any reason that shouldn’t be the case . Her presence is overwhelming . When she walks into the room , the ambiance is her . She’s sad about what Tooth has turned into         practically grieving the death of someone who is still alive        so the audience/player should be as well . Even if the player has control of Ama at this point , the scene is probably more cinematic than player action for the first three minutes . ( in this house we live like JRPGs and have 30 hours worth of story MINIMUM )

But it’s really important that even after that 3 minute mark , when the music is really obviously kicking into something more energetic, there’s still this melancholy sounding violin that lingers for a short while . Violin and Viola are my go-to symbolic instruments for Tooth in general when it comes to picking out orchestral pieces I think fit her ( cliche i know but i apologize for nothing ) . And surprise , the person who previously lived in this delicate balance of doing good and managing their own self-preservation , suddenly wanting everything destroyed and taking on fights she can’t win is actually A Little Depressed . But even that same melancholy theme picks up the rhythm before long , because depressed bird is going to fight , and Amaterasu best believe depressed bird is going to keep fighting until she can’t anymore .

Turning that same depressing theme into a few aggressive electric guitar solos is just icing on the cake . Look how far she’s fallen . Look how corrupted her views on life have become . Look at how far she’s let her anger consume her . Amaterasu please help this poor girl finally rest .

[clockworkouroboros]

Y I K E S why are orchestras frequently so bigoted? Is there a history lesson in this?

Alright, this is probably going to be a long post, and for that, I’m sorry. This is something that’s obviously very important to me, given that I’m seriously looking into going into music (and specifically classical music) as a career. I don’t talk much about sexism because it’s not something I experience very much—I sympathize with people who do experience it, but it really is their story to tell. I can’t add anything. However, this affects me very much, since I’ll be dealing with these orchestras as part of my career, very probably.

Women were not allowed in regular orchestras until 1913. Fifteen years earlier, in 1898, specific ‘women’s orchestras’ were formed so that women could play, but obviously these weren’t as popular as the big name orchestras like, say, the Vienna Philharmonic.

Even then, it was difficult for a woman to get into an orchestra. If I remember correctly, it was 1930 before a woman got into an American orchestra. And big-name American orchestras were faster than European orchestras to allow women to play with them.

I suppose I should explain an orchestra audition. The person auditioning plays technical passages, certain excerpts from orchestral repertoire, and sight reading. They are judged by a jury made up of members of the orchestra for which they are auditioning. My cello teacher has sat on several juries himself. It’s up to the jury to decide whether or not the person auditioning will join the orchestra. This makes sense; after all, they’re going to playing with them potentially until they retire. This is an audition based off of skill and the ability to play well with others (literally).

So, if it’s an audition based off of skill, why is sexism so rampant? Well, think about it. The juries are made up of orchestra members. And who are the orchestra members? That’s right. Men. Women were, whether deliberately or not, being discriminated against by the men.

How do I know that this was sexism and that the women weren’t just subpar performers? Because eventually, orchestras began implementing blind auditions.

A blind audition is exactly like a regular audition, except there’s a screen between the performer and the jury. The performer is given a number, and the jury doesn’t find out until afterwards the gender or race of the performer. Blind auditions have become commonplace among orchestras now because of the sexism exhibited so strongly in literally every orchestra.

Now that blind auditions are commonplace, we should take a look at the statistics. A hundred years ago, orchestras were almost entirely men, because it was only after 1913 that women were allowed into orchestras. Now, women make up something like 35%. Take into account the fact that orchestra members often play in an orchestra until they’re in their 60s (meaning they auditioned before blind auditions were commonplace). The younger people entering the orchestra are a slightly more even mix than the older generation. (Check out the big orchestras and see how many older players are women).

But that’s not all. When you begin breaking it down into categories, you’ll find crazy differences in the different sections of an orchestra. Strings are 47% women. That sounds good, doesn’t it? Well, brass is 3% women.

That doesn’t mean that women suck at brass in some innate way. It’s because women won’t be hired even if they did really well at the blind audition once the jury finds out that he’s a she. I remember reading a story, I think it was in Blink by Malcolm Gladwell (I’d hunt it down, but currently my copy of Blink is hidden in stacks of books that don’t fit on my bookshelves). It was about a woman who auditioned for one of the prestigious orchestras—I think it was the Berlin Philharmonic, one of the foremost orchestras in the world since it was founded. The woman played brass (French horn? Trumpet? I don’t remember, sorry. It’s been a few years since I read the book) and the jury loved her. Until they found out she was a woman.

This was in the 21st century! This was within the last twenty years! There was a whole battle over this because the jury insisted that she couldn’t possibly have been the person auditioning. They said that women didn’t have the lung capacity that men had, and thus couldn’t achieve the same kind of sound a man could. Therefore, she couldn’t have actually played in the audition because she was a woman and physically couldn’t play that well.

This is all bs, of course. I just want to point out that things are still pretty bad out there for women.

But Emily, you may say, this is specifically for brass! You play strings! The plight of women in the orchestra is indeed bad, but this won’t affect you nearly as badly because of your instrument choice!

Let’s take a further look at the strings. There are, of course, four stringed instruments (not counting the harp) in the orchestra: violins (divided into 1st and 2nd violins), violas, cellos, and basses.

In a typical Romantic-style orchestra (and this is how all the big orchestras are arranged), there are a minimum of 30 violins total. 14 2nd violins, and at least 16 1st violins. This is just slightly under half the total number of strings in the orchestra. There are 12 cellos.

Violins are viewed as a ‘girly’ instrument. They’re small and high and you can play the most breathtakingly beautiful emotional music on them. This means that the majority of violinists are female.

(Women are more likely to learn a musical instrument than a man just in general, but certain instruments have certain stereotypes. A man is more likely to pick the trumpet, which is loud and bombastic. It’s another stereotype that trumpet players have huge egos, but I won’t open that can of worms. What I should be saying is that, since women are more likely to learn a musical instrument, we should be seeing much different statistics about how many women are playing in orchestras).

The cello, on the other hand, is perceived as a more ‘masculine’ instrument. This is, once more, total bs, since instruments don’t have genders, but this is the way it is right now. The cello is big and has a lower register and a truly gorgeous resounding tone when played well.

Double basses are perceived as a more ‘masculine’ instrument, too. They have an even lower register than the cellos. They’re even bigger than the cellos. You need big fingers. There are 8 of those in a traditional Romantic-style orchestra.

Violas are, as far as I can tell, a mixed bag. They’re forgotten about most of the time, so I honestly have no idea if they have feminine/masculine connotations. That being said, there are 12 of those in a traditional Romantic-style orchestra.

Women make up 47% of the string section. Violins are the most feminely-perceived instrument. In fact, most women in the string section are violinists. I’ve seen a few female cellists. A few female bassists. I kind of forget about the violas, tbh.

The thing about feminine/masculine perceptions of instruments is that they are part of the reason women struggle to find positions in an orchestra. If half of the strings, some of the woodwinds, and literally all of the brass has masculine connotations, then yeah, people are going to expect a man to play those instruments better than a woman.

There are bs arguments against women in this section, too, they’re just not heard nearly as often. My hands aren’t big enough to do big extensions in first position. Some people would say, “that’s because you’re a woman.” No, that’s because I am a small person with small hands. My cello teacher struggles with those extensions and he’s a man. Another one is, once more, about getting a full sound. I sometimes struggle to get a full sound because I’m tense. I have to learn to relax and use my arm weight. It’s something everyone has to learn. But if I don’t work on it, it’ll be framed as “you’re a woman, so you don’t have the weight or strength to get these big fortissimo sounds.” No, it’s from tension. A good cello teacher can tell you as much. A good cello teacher has told me as much.

The thing is, men in the orchestra are serious divas, and divas are remarkably self-centered. This is an irritating but relatively inconsequential behavior, except all of these prestigious orchestras are catering to their manly needs. Seriously. The big-name orchestras, especially in Europe, worry that having women in their orchestra could affect the sense of camaraderie and emotional support that the men have in their little group. They all can diva together, but the moment a woman shows up, it’s curtains.

Remember kids, the Vienna Philharmonic didn’t allow women to be permanent members of the orchestra until 1997. That means that women could only play with the orchestra as adjunct members, meaning that they couldn’t get tenure, they didn’t get the same kind of pay, they went unacknowledged in programs and on the orchestra’s website, and they wouldn’t get any kind of pension when they retired. Meanwhile, the male permanent members of the orchestra are making a six-figure salary, exposure, tenure, and a really nice pension upon retirement. The Vienna Phil also said that they were unwilling to allow women to play in the orchestra because of maternity leave and so on and so forth. The usual arguments.

Talk about a pay gap.

Even today, the major orchestras around the world (but especially in Europe, where the best orchestras are) have statistics like ‘women make up 6% of that particular orchestra’ (the Vienna Philharmonic again). I believe the Berlin Philharmonic (ranked 2nd best worldwide) is around 15% women.

You hear stories from women who did blind auditions for orchestras. “Oh, I took off my heels when I went in to play,” they tell you. “I didn’t want anything to give away my gender.”

The thing is, women shouldn’t have to do that. If I’m going to get turned down from an orchestra, I want it to be because I legitimately am not good enough, not because they heard me walk in in high heels and immediately discounted me as unimportant. (Granted, I’d never wear heels to an audition because it messes me up when I play cello, but the thing is, I should be able to wear them if I want. It shouldn’t be, essentially, an automatic disqualification).

I keep bringing up the Vienna Phil because that was my dream orchestra. To be part of them would be amazing. Except, you know, they’re incredibly sexist and also racist. (They couldn’t be racist against me since I’m white and of mostly German descent, but it’s still a crappy thing for them to be). Things are slowly getting better for women, sort of, but you need only go to the Wikipedia page for ‘orchestra’ to be given examples from prestigious orchestras about how bad it is.

These guys want to keep classical music a man’s world. I don’t want to be on the warpath, but they started it. I’m going to do the best that I can to help finish it.

tldr: sexism has been prevalent in classical music for a long time, and still is prevalent today, it’s just largely overlooked because classical music itself is an often overlooked form of entertainment (the reasons for that being the topic for a whole other rant/essay), and the world’s foremost orchestras, especially European ones, are really bad.

[marredbyoverlength]

Year-End Awards 2018

2018 sucked personally, professionally, and politically. But hey, at least the movies sucked too!

Ok, there were plenty of good movies. But the bad vastly outnumbered the good, and the highlights weren’t especially high. Even my favorite filmmakers had weak years: Wes Anderson and the Coen brothers both put out some of their most mediocre films in 2018.

But no year is devoid of value, and damned if I won’t do my best to find it. Let’s dive into the only blog post I still do, the year-end awards.

(Honorable mentions, as always, are listed in no particular order.)

Best Lead Performance: Paul Giamatti & Kathryn Hahn, Private Life.

Giving this to two people is a cheap trick (and one I’ve used before), but this is my blog and I make the rules. Private Life is a powerful, painfully realistic film about a middle-aged couple, played by Hahn and Giamatti, going through IVF to get pregnant. Their relationship is at the core of the film; singling out one for praise would be a disservice to the other.

A film like this could easily be a one-dimensional tragedy about baby angst, but both lead actors go through a broad range of emotions that are at once inarticulable in words but instantly recognizable. The highs and lows of their journey and the stress it puts on them and their relationship come out in every expression, every movement of their bodies. This is the highest praise you can give actors: that they portray something that can’t be portrayed any other way.

Honorable Mentions: Olivia Cooke, Thoroughbreds; Joaquin Phoenix, You Were Never Really Here; Toni Collette, Hereditary; Ryan Gosling, First Man; Viola Davis, Widows; Olivia Colman, The Favourite; Emma Stone, The Favourite; Annette Bening, Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool.

Best Supporting Performance: Anton Yelchin, Thoroughbreds.

Enough has been written about this already, but Anton Yelchin could easily have become one of the greatest actors of our time had he not died such a weird and sad death. His performance in Thoroughbreds is the perfect example of why I say that.

Yelchin plays a kind of guy that everyone knows, the wannabe operator who hangs out with, and deals drugs to, kids much younger than him and feels cool for doing so. He slips perfectly into that role, but what makes it better than just a caricature is how he captures the character in the scenes where he’s out of the element he’s chosen for himself: once after two high school girls violently rob him and once at the end after he sees what one of the girls has become. He is shaken and unsure, and letting that façade drop in real time is an impressive feat of acting.

Honorable Mentions: Richard E. Grant, Can You Ever Forgive Me?; Alison Pill, Vice; Oscar Isaac, Annihilation; Jason Isaacs, The Death of Stalin.

The Costner Award for Worst Actor: No Winner

Before going into more detail, I’d like to point out that I didn’t see any Gerard Butler movies this year, so take this with a grain of salt.

There were a lot of god-awful movies this year. But all those movies are awful for reasons distinct from acting. Bruce Willis was boring in Death Wish, sure, but his character was boring. Tye Sheridan was annoying in Ready Player One, but his character was annoying. Travolta was actually pretty good in Gotti, even though the movie was a total disaster.

In fact, I can’t think of any performances this year that made me angry in the same way the Kevin Costner makes me angry. Congratulations to actors, I guess? If you know of a truly heinous performance, let me know.

Nicest Surprise: Aquaman

Aquaman is a superhero movie about a very strong, very stupid dog in the shape of Jason Momoa (just look at his dumb face!). There is also a giant octopus who plays the drums. That’s about all you need to know about Aquaman.

Honorable mentions: Mission: Impossible – Fallout; Game Night.

Most Insulting Moment: “Street Weapon,” Robin Hood.

In Robin Hood (2018), Little John (Jamie Foxx) trains a fledgling Robin (Taron Egerton) in the art of hoodery. At the completion of this training, he says to Robin, “you’re going to need a street weapon.” Then he hands Robin this:

“Patrick, is that a full-sized bow with brass knuckles tied to it?” Yes, yes it is. You know, for the streets.

Honorable Mentions: Queen Saves Live Aid, Bohemian Rhapsody; Tactical Furniture, Death Wish; Pretty much all of Ready Player One.

Winter’s Tale Memorial “What the Hell Am I Watching” Award: No Winner

I almost gave this award to Gotti, a movie so widely panned that the marketing campaign explicitly told potential viewers that critics are scum. But then a friend of mine live-blogged his first viewing of The Book of Henry, the current title-holder, and I was reminded of just how gonzo bananas a movie has to be to get this award.

Sure, Gotti is an incomprehensible failure tornado that somehow had enough money for John Travolta but apparently not enough for, you know, lighting and sound guys, but it’s not bewildering like Winter’s Tale was, or like Book of Henry was. A winner should make me ask not just “what the hell is going on” and “how the hell did this get made,” but also “why the hell would anyone want to make this?”  I didn’t see anything that prompted that last question this year.

Prettiest Movie: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

I used to give out an award for technical filmmaking, but in hindsight, I don’t know enough about filmmaking to confidently give that award. But I am an expert on the topic of “things I find visually appealing,” and since film is a visual medium (despite what the Academy would have you believe), I’m bringing the category back in this form.

Anyway, the winner is Spider-Verse, no contest. It’s the most brilliantly animated film I’ve seen in years, and easily the best-animated CGI film ever produced. In a world drowning in endless round-and-shiny Pixar clones, Spider-Verse made something entirely unique, influenced by the styles of comic books through the ages but ultimately producing something all its own. The end sequence, with manifold universes spiraling out of a black hole and bleeding into each other, will no doubt be the most impressive feat of animation for years to come.

Honorable Mentions: Mandy; Annihilation; You Were Never Really Here.

Best Picture: Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool.

After seeing this beautiful film, I resigned myself to the fact that it wouldn’t receive any Oscar buzz. I was more right than I realized: not only did it not get any nominations, it didn’t even qualify for consideration. The Academy considered this a Film Stars a 2017 movie, as it was released on a very limited run on December 29, 2017. I didn’t hear the name until I saw a trailer for it in January of this year, and I didn’t get to see it in my city until February. This is the great crime of Oscar season: everybody tries to put their stuff out as late as possible, and real gems like this one get crowded out by Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, a movie that gets worse every time I think about it.

I’m correcting this injustice. Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool is the only great movie of 2018. The script is heartbreaking, the acting is profoundly human, and the fluid cinematography masterfully blends past with present, creating a portrait of the last days in the life of Gloria Grahame (Annette Bening) in all her messy detail, seen from her own perspective as well as that of her former lover, the much younger Peter Turner (Jamie Bell). Where those perspective diverge is where the film is at its best, and those moments are easily the most moving of the year.

Honorable Mentions: Annihilation; The Death of Stalin; Private Life.

That’s it, that’s the whole post. Peace out.

[mushroom-cartel]

I’ve come up with a list of disjointed headcanons because I’m having an existential crisis over Roxas and Ventus being different people/the same person and KH3′s looming presence is scaring me.

The headcanons are written for an AU based on the initial premise of the “Cranky Old We’ve-seen-some-serious-shit-you-would-never-understand People” trio, but blown way out of proportion.

This post can be considered Part 2 to the one linked above.

Expect some wild dumb thoughts also being thrown in…

KHX, KHUX and Pre-BbS:

The era of small, angsty children going through mid-life crises and not appreciating Disney because Lux collecting is insane.

Strelitzia. Dead.

The Keyblade War.

Mass memory wipe commences.

Amnesia galore and Union X is formed.

Problem with that though is that the new leader all have to bear the burden of retaining everyone’s memories of life before and what happened during the War.

They’re just kids.

Bless them.

Aren’t Ephemer, Skuld, Ventus, Brain and Lauriam Keyblade Masters by default because of this?

I mean, there’s no one around to tell them if they’re still ordinary Keyblade wielders or not, but now that they’re Union leaders, it would make sense for the five of them to perform a mock Mark of Mastery exams in the Keyblade Graveyard.

Just to feel like its all official and the end of the worlds wasn’t upon them or something.

Ventus should be allowed to laugh at Terra and Aqua in BbS.

AKA, the reason why Ventus doesn’t have Starlight in BbS but probably does like every other NPC in KHUX.

Because the Mark of Mastery back in the old days granted you a new Keyblade.

You remember the Masters of Masters having the Gazing Eye in each of his apprentices’ Keyblades?

Apparently, he also forged their Keyblades from their hearts.

Well there you go. 

While five kids doing the same to each other is a chaotic mess, it’s still in the realm of possibility.

Just stick your hand in a heart and viola!

An entirely new Keyblade.

For reference, go look up Gatchaman Crowds’s NOTE.

The Keyblade version of Graceful Dahlia is formed via this method?

All those weird plot points Nomura makes.

Out of the five new leaders, Ventus is undoubtedly the youngest and has the least experience when it comes to leadership. He doesn’t understand why he was chosen in the first place anyways when he can’t even stand for himself.

He has issues.

But he wants to be helpful.

Shift Pride is introduced to Union X and Lauriam starts to go looking for his sister, asking for Elrena’s aid in his endeavours. Every possible lead they follow winds up a dead end and they have to start their searches all over again. In this AU, Lauriam doesn’t confide in the others about his sister’s disappearance because he believes too much in the power of friendship. It’s during this time that Lauriam starts neglecting his duties as a Union leader, and Ventus, being the nice kid he is and all, covers for him and does the workload of two grown-ups. 

This arrangement goes on for quite a while, so much so that Ventus loses it.

He goes ham on Lauriam’s ass because it’s not fair; they all lost important people and things before and during the War, what matters now is what they can do to preserve the memories.

“Why are you so intent on chasing a ghost of the past?”

“She’s my sister, you wouldn’t understand!”

Laurium and Ventus get into a fight, which ended up with Laurium losing his heart and Elrena following him shortly after because she stepped in the way of his Keyblade to stop him from doing the same to Ventus.

Guys, Elrena just wants everybody to be happy.

She used to be sunshine and rainbows.

AKA, the story of how child soldiers became Nobodies.

AKA, a method of leaving the Realm of Sleep, or in this case, the dream within a dream, the alternate reality which Union X formed.

In his guilt, Ventus exiled himself from Daybreak Town.

Like, he just up and left the second layer and went back to the dream world where the Keyblade War took place.

And then he destroyed his Chirithy, basically an intimate part of his soul since he started sleeping. Soon he jumped off a cliff and BAM.

AKA, a method of leaving this particular part of the Realm of Sleep, which was fabricated by the Masters of Masters.

Ventus enters Reality, where times are different and years have passed.

Surprise, surprise, though, the first layer of dreams was very real (despite everything they’ve been told) and lots of children died.

The people of Daybreak Town were the SURVIVORS of the War, the Foretellers were more senior Keyblade wielders, and MoM being the guy to put them all to sleep.

So the War in KHX was technically the second of its kind.

The War (the player has flashbacks of) in KHUX is the first.

Memory alteration magic for the win here.

HE’S IN THE FUTURE.

PANIC.

Confusion.

He’s alone for a period of time, in which he starts to adopt a backhanded grip in the hopes of utilising Wayward Wind’s blunt edge because he’s scared of doing the same to anyone else like he did to Lauriam.

Stabbing and hitting becomes guarding and slashing.

And then Xehanort showed up

To screw things up.

Heart-splitting action occurred some time later.

As did Vanitas. 

Sora’s healing time also happens and Ventus forgets about Daybreak Town for like a second.

Actually, more than a decade.

Daybreak what now?

��TERRA! AQUA!”

Post-KH(ish) and Early-358/2:

Roxas doesn’t remember his first six days because he was having flashbacks of the War through his connection with Sora and Ventus.

Xemnas is scared that he’s remembering Sora.

Marluxia nearly cried foul when the boy was inducted.

Larxene wanted nothing to do with him.

Why?

Since the two lost their hearts in a fake realm of sleep, their memories are a bit scrambled. So what they remember of their Sombodies is in correlation to strong emotions.

You know.

Like that time they died.

OR THE KEYBLADE WAR.

Still, Marluxia needs power and Roxas seems familiar.

And Larxene?

She just wants to have a good time.

See what makes him tick, what makes him different, what makes him Roxas and not Ventus.

She’s bitter and jaded. A few years of being nothing can do that to some people.

Don’t expect her to pat Roxas on the head mockingly.

Okay, she does but that was only a one time thing.

It’s accidental, but she ends up forming some sort of amicable acquaintanceship with the boy.

She hasn’t had proper friends since…

.… Since what?

Ah, it doesn’t matter.

On the other hand, Roxas is weirded out by the fact that Marluxia and Larxene seem so familiar despite not having any memories of his Somebody’s life.

When he looks at them, he feels nothing but regret and the urge to profusely apologise for something he doesn’t know about.

He’s paranoid, guys.

Wait, what?

Day 11.

“You’re going on a reconnaissance mission with Number XII.”

“But, Saïx, she’s going to kill me!”

“Not a concern of mine unless it hinders your ability to collect hearts.”

AKA, the beginnings of a proper adventure with “Accidental Murder” and “Friends Should Not Fight (Even If I Die)”.

Note to self: Marluxia’s crack code name is “Death by Sister Complex”.

It’s a grand adventure.

One that includes flying saucers, a grand amount of explosions and lighting raining down from the sky and roasted acorns.

Just like old times, in Larxene’s mind.

Seriously, what were the Foretellers thinking when they sent children to go collect Lux?

Oh, just casually go defeat huge Heartless, no biggie.

What was that about a war?

Roxas learns survival skills like a madman.

A friendship is formed?

Day 22 and sea-salt ice cream like normal before RTC.

Pre-CoM(ish) and During:

Roxas is still being paranoid, even with less people occupying the Castle That Never Was.

At least Larxene and Marluxia isn’t around to give him the heebie-jeebies.

He thinks.

Paranoid to the point that he doesn’t even interact with Xion as much as he did in canon and Xion doesn’t get a face (from him or Axel) because he’s scared that someone might try to use him as scapegoat.

Plans go awry because initiating social interaction isn’t in her programming. Xemnas almost throws himself off his throne.

Meanwhile, Marluxia’s just doing his own things in Castle Oblivion and unintentionally makes Naminé give Sora memories of Strelitzia.

Also, thanks to his tenure as Union leader, he does in fact have power over memories to a certain degree, how else would the War be wiped out from the Dandelions’ minds?

He teaches Naminé things.

But memories of Strelitzia only means one thing. Lauriam.

And Lauriam’s… nice. Very different to Marluxia in some ways.

“Who the hell is this?”

“Lauriam.”

“YOU.”

“Who?”

“Strelitzia?”

“WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

Confrontations within Castle Oblivion are disorderly.

In this AU, the goal is not to cause a coup, but rather, it’s to make others (coughxemnascough) think twice about forming Kingdom Hearts. 

Stop trying.

It’s not gonna work, old man.

Not knowing that he’s in the process of leading a group to stop another war from breaking out is Marluxia’s mood.

Larxene low-key just wants to burn Castle Oblivion to the ground because she can feel Ventus’s ghostly presence withing in the walls, even after how many years its been since she lost her heart and forgot some things. A few millenniums? She knows it’s familiar but she can’t put her finger on the feeling. Maybe it’s just her excitement acting up, high voltage running through her body making her think there’s something not quite there here.

If they did actually succeed in finding the Chamber of Waking, Larxene’s reaction to Ventus’s body living without a heart would be, “Oh, great! I was right, there’s a damn ghost in this place!!” 

A lighting show inside a half-dead world is great.

Larxene finds it ironic that she’s dying to a Keyblade for the second time and just laughs, instead having a “I’m fading” moment like all the other Nobodies.

Sora is confused.

Larxene. Gone.

“It was great while it lasted.”

Yes, Ventus is asleep here still, but he’s currently wrangling with Roxas’s acute trauma in sleep land.

Roxas’s coma is key.

Because he remembers being Sora AND Ventus and he’s so confused because he:

a). Saved a whole bunch of kids like himself from serve trauma.

b). Saved a whole bunch of worlds from being taken over by the darkness.

c). He’s lost himself at least twice in wherever he is.

He’s walking through a version of Daybreak Town before everything in KHX and KHUX. 

“When the worlds were bathed in light” sort of Daybreak Town.

Half-awake and half-asleep.

The real incarnation, present day where the legacies of Ephemer, Skuld and Brain are lived and breathed by Daybreak Town.

Also, Ephemer, Skuld and Brain is another friendship trio that forms in this AU. 

This is important.

They lost Lauriam and Ventus in one fell swoop and what do you do when you lose your friends?

You became stronger by strengthening the bond that remain and forge new ones.

In Union X’s case, they soon abolished the old Union system and formed a meager with what was left.

Competing amongst themselves to collect the most Lux becomes a thing of the past.

The people who didn’t agree with this change were free to leave Daybreak Town (the dream within the dream) and establish connections with the outside and Reality, moving from the Realm of Sleep and into the Realm of Light or Darknes, but they still regarded Daybreak Town as home, so now and then they’d send themselves to sleep.

AKA, how Luxu got to the outside world by blending in. 

AKA, the ability to put something in the universe to sleep forever is exclusive to the old people for once.

Those that remained slowly regained their memories, and despite all the aftereffects of the War(s) on the population of Keyblade wielders, these people and the ones who left still interacted with one another.

Which basically means, if the leavers found any potential across the worlds, they’d send those who could possibly wield a Keyblade into a deep sleep to be trained in Daybreak Town; while they might age mentally, they’ll stay physically the same.

AKA, a better option for immortality. 

Luxu’s around for a bit.

He passes on No Name at some point after this.

Their comatose bodies are sent to Scala Ad Caelum for safekeeping, where they are to remain for all eternity unless they chose to leave Daybreak Town themselves.

And because of this, Scala Ad Caelum is abundant with darkness and light, ensuring that it stays between the two Realms.

I guess Scala Ad Caelum is a world formed from the hearts of the participants of the Keyblade War.

Their hearts didn’t become part of Kingdom Hearts?

Scala Ad Caelum is the original base of most, if not all, Keyblade-related activities.

Scala Ad Caelum is home to many; light and darkness guide those whose dwell on this world.

Daybreak Town 2.0?

Somewhere in the realms between it exists.

Many years later, Xehanort and Eraqus became the apprentices of a Keyblade Master descended from a person who left Daybreak Town all those years, who acted as one of the guardians to all the sleeping hearts.

Yen Sid is trained by a wandering Dandelion descendant.

Back in the old days, being a Keyblade wielder meant you went to sleep, guarded Scala Ad Caelum or you got found by a stranger who took a particular shine to you.

After Lauriam “died” and Ventus left, Ephemer, Skuld and Brain realise for once that they’re just children.

Two of their friends are gone for eternity.

Back to Roxas, he’s just… tripping out. Majorly. 

What’s with all these grey cats surrounding him and bawling their eyes out right next to his ear?

They’re going off the rails, saying things about calling the Grand Masters over to the plaza he awoke in, calling him a name unfamiliar to his memory.

Then there’s a corridor of darkness and light opening right before the poor boy and the trio that steps out are who he assumes to be the Grand Masters.

They look barely older than him, maybe by a year or two but no more than that.

“Ventus?” the girl whispers, taking a knee to meet him at eye level. “It’s been years, how…?”

“Please, Skuld. We could’ve never known if he left in the first place. He might’ve actually run off to another dream and accidentally opened up a corridor here. Don’t overwhelm him with questions,” says one of the boys, tilting back his head slightly to stare at Roxas from under the brim of his hat.

“I wasn’t about to, Brain! Eh, Ephemer, back me up here… Ephemer? Something wrong?”

“It’s Ventus for sure, but… His heart… I can’t sense it.”

During Days 23 to 50, Sora goes through Castle Oblivion and Axel does the dirty.

When Larxene and Marluxia cease to exist, it begins the process of reforming as their Somebodies.

They’re how old by now?

Their Heartless are long gone.

Which means that while their bodies end up in Scala Ad Caelum, their hearts awaken in Daybreak Town, just as Sora is put to sleep by Naminé—meaning they just missed Roxas returning to Reality.

Did I forget to mention Xion is still a puppet?

Late-358/2: 

“All my friends are dead to me.”

After awakening, Roxas immediately begins to distrust the Organization. He’s beyond paranoid by this point.

He’s suspicious of Axel especially, considering that the members who perished at Castle Oblivion weren’t exactly pushovers.

He thinks he’s done this before; maybe Ventus did too?

The Grand Masters weren’t exactly transparent on what Ventus did, but Roxas knew better than to question it when he saw the way they acted guarded around him.

He has a “contemplating on running away from home to find answers” phase. Like all good Nobodies do at some point in their meaningless existences.

Seeing as Xion doesn’t have any problems following the orders of anybody, he enlists her help to investigate. 

She gets a face.

Finally.

Jokes on Roxas because Sora’s memory is questionable.

IT’S STRELITZIA’S FACE.

[ I just realised Marluxia and Larxene aren’t around by this point. ]

[ That’s a shame. ]

The change affects everyone’s sight. Yes, even Saïx and Xigbar aren’t safe.

She retains the colour of her hair, but it is noticeably longer than what it appeared to be initially.

No one knows whose face Xion has and no amount of programming can change it.

Xemnas is tired of kids not following the plan.

A wild Riku Ansem appears.

And he’s just as confused by Xion as the rest of the Organization.

“DiZ, it looks like no one Sora’s ever met.”

“Perhaps it took its face from another source.”

“What—those other drawing of Naminé’s? How can that be?”

“Not everything needs a sound explaination. No matter, regardless of the puppet’s state, you need to capture it as it will be necessary for our plans to move ahead.”

Despite Riku’s Ansem’s skepticism, Xion having Strelitzia’s face is on Naminé’s part.

Because Marluxia was half the asshole he was in canon and memory magic is very potent in the hands of a capable student.

Going through Marluxia’s head and finding a girl of unknown origins was very good blackmail material.

She drew creepy renditions of his old life.

And then she shoved a copy of Lauriam’s memories into Sora’s heart when she put him to sleep to reconnect his chain of memories.

Why?

Because she could.

And she wanted to flip the bird on Marluxia in the case that he didn’t die and would have to fight Sora again.

[ Oh, jeez, this AU’s version of Sora will be so weird in KH3′s setting because of that one trailer showing us Marluxia’s return. ]

Naminé the Witch of Memories for the win.

The wonder duo of Roxas and Xion eventually allow Axel into their circle of conspiracies. However, there are cutthroat rules about how and what he can do to help.

The days go.

Kill Heartless, collect hearts, lie to Xemnas, eat sea-salt ice cream.

Just the usual shebang.

Traitor!Xion is a thing now: desperate to discover her origins, instead of being forcefully taken and convinced, Xion willingly walks right up to DiZ and Ansem’s doorstep.

Yes, even though she and Roxas are friends, it should also serve as a remainder that their relationship isn’t as close in canon, here they both halfly trust one another because they know the Organization has more sinister plans for them. 

They need another pair of eyes to look out for their backs.

Their partnership is just them using each other for personal gains.

Axel is completely on a different loop.

He has no idea what’s going on in his friends’ heads.

They were planning on offing Axel but resisted the urge.

Xion learns exactly who and what she is.

DiZ finding the opportunity to do so, puts her to sleep and forces Naminé to rewire her memories; making it seem like to Xion that the Organization stole her (Sora’s) memories and DiZ is trying to help her get them back from Roxas.

“Destroy the boy.”

“Okay, DiZ.”

Naminé takes the time to stick a copy of Lauriam’s memories of Strelitzia in Xion too. For good measure, she reasons to herself. 

Roxas’s final battle is technically against “Mystery Girl”.

An unholy amalgamation between Xion’s last form and Marluxia’s own.

Her memory went out of wack.

There’s flower petals everywhere when she lands a blow on Roxas while they fight above Twilight Town.

Prologue-KH2:

Making munny is exhausting.

The normal stuff happens, except:

a). Naminé to anybody she can get her hands on, “You get a copy of someone’s memories and you get a copy of someone’s memories! Everyone gets a copy of someone’s memories!!”

b). Axel buys a crate of sea-salt and throws it down from atop the clock tower, wanting to test the limitations of digital data and human injury on Day 2.

“Accidental Murder” evolves into “Natural Disaster of a Murderer”.

When Roxas thinks Axel died, he shrugged it off.

People come back from the dead all the time.

Stop starting fires, DiZ.

Ansem Riku questions his morals.

Everything should be back to normal when Sora wakes up, right?

Unknown Point(s):

“Lauriam?”

“Ah, my old friends. How long has it been since we last talked like civilised people?”

The three Grand Masters laugh. “Far too long.”

“Hey, Marluxia, where—”

“Who’s this?”

“Why, might I introduce to you my dear friend Elrena?”

“You may.”   

In other news, Ventus is a time traveller, Lauriam served his time, Elrena didn’t ask for this and Kingdom Hearts is bad news.

I might add some more headcanons after KH3 blasts a hole somewhere in my ship and becomes safe to talk about.

[fine-not-fine]

My review of ONE

Hello I’m Andy and I’m going to give my full honest opinion about the things in ONE I love. It’s giving me a lot of hope and something to look forward to. So let’s get into it. Characters: OFF was full of interesting bosses and characters. ONE has even more. Playing as a child is not a new concept, but ONE pulls it off in the best way possible. Doux is the son of Zacharie which is a character we know well if you played or watched OFF. This introduces a familiar element with a new one. This sets an tone of learning, which is vital for these types of stories. The player slides in so smoothly into the situation. Each character is introduced formally, but not completely. Every interaction feels special. These characters are much more than their roles. Doux- I can’t get enough of this child. He has the traits that make him so lovable while avoiding most classic tropes. Doux isn’t subject to being ‘perfect’, but he doesn’t fall into a narrow track of a character must be extremely flawed or extremely perfect. He mannerisms come off as endearing and sometimes encouraging to the player. I’m not even fond of children, but god I love this kid. His intentions are so pure, I can’t help but want to follow. Doux’s large eyes and overall real toddler like appreance helps. It reminds you, you are indeed watching over a child. Doux manages to have a cute overlook despite some otherwise monster-like features with don’t overtake his prime look. Doux can just as easily became frightening, with a look that makes the player startled and beckons a need of carefulness, worrying about Doux’s safety. He becomes scary while still sympathic. Buttons- While a silent character, there is something sentimental about having him on your team. A gift from Zacharie and something just makes me feel like Buttons belongs. There’s not much personality here, but he’s a great companion and I love this little plush toy just being around for Doux. The design is simple but deeply reminiscent of a childhood doll. He stands out enough from normal specters, but fits in alongside them. Blight- This character came at just the right time. He starts off as a merchant and through the game provides a sense of progress. You get to see him in the world’s you pass. He’s not overbearing and shows some honest interaction later on. He’s not exposed right away which is something that happens a lot. Instead his reasoning and expotition are slowly added. He’s the big brother type that was needed. He’s the cynical to counteract Doux’s optimism. This gives the player two views of the world they explore in. Blight also provides a center point on which the world that Doux is unaware of. His design is one of the more complex but fitting. Blight’s design is burned into a feeling of struggle and suffering. He continues on with it regardless, but its very clear. His features all show a much darker tone to the world and one could happen in it. He also manages to very much appear like a mistake when compared to what he was made to be. This becomes him, he’s not a carbon copy. He’s Blight. Which is cleverly shown in small design choices like the longer ears and differencing in face. Viola- God I love this character so much. Her interactions are delightful, like every other character in this game. She’s friendly and has a wit to her that makes her charming. She takes the place of Blight as a merchant. Her story isn’t completely known yet, but it makes her quite the yarn to unspin. She’s a smile waiting every time you go and buy from her. Her all around interactions with the world ake her feel more than just a merchant, which is something I love in this game. Her color choices are spot the fuck on and I love it. Pink and blue stand out on her well, while also having those white and gray tones. She’s so different from the other characters but somehow fits in so well. Her strangeness is captured in her design fantastically. Goutte- This lil fucker was a great starting boss. He has enough connection to start the bat off but not too much to overload the player. Having a boss like this is ideal, as overloading the player in the beginning can leave story telling fuzzy. He had enough in him to make his interaction with you one that was mostly out of anger. Though once defeated the spite is somehwat distilled. This set up a good pathway to more complex and enriching bosses. A very simple design but an enjoyable one.  Chahal- This was a great boss to fight and a wonderful zone. He was satisftying to watch, which the inner workings showing a lot about him before even facing him. His brief moments of talking had clear motive. He seems so relaxed. His possible fear or regret make him quite the character to try and understand. The green in his design is very pleasing visually. It’s very interesting where the option could clearly have been blue, but green is very pleasant. He’s lightly pissed off in a relaxed or cocky form. I enjoy it. Oculi- A very cool and calculating figure that leads into a lot deeper plot. His design mixed with gray/red/blue is very nice. Despite his design he’s not nearly as vain or high and mighty as I expected, but the change is welcomed. He’s even calmer than Chahal. He knows things and I’m all for it.  Hathath- The most plot based boss at the best time. This is were the story is needed most and he directs it perfectly. His zone and him a very much tied together. The horror and his apathy are terrifying and it fuels the plotline well. He’s the boss I want to fight the most. His relationship with existance itself seems to reflect how he believes his zone should be. His full honesty on how fucked everything is, is pretty nice. His cloaked, bandaged appreance always feels as though he’s hiding himself or his real self.  Corpse Batter- Probably the most interesting spin on The Batter I’ve seen. He’s put in a morally gray way. His past crimes aren’t hidden, but he is not empty of all kindness. His design fucks me up too this day and shows so much about what’s changed. His add-ons are literally in his spine. His outfit if very befitting of a reaper type. Laisser- I favor this boy more than I should have. This is the character that effected me most. The way he talks and the way he ends up will eat me alive everytime. He appears lonely, easy to push around, and sad. He gains my sympathy quietly. His need to have a friend made Dopple. This dependence shows up between them, Laisser needing Dopple to have company and complete his tasks. I have a hard time faulting this character. From hair to clothes, I love how he looks. He’s cute and his stitch eye and heart are my favorite things. His hoodie is something I’d want to buy. He certainly seems older than Doux, but he still feels like he’s growing and maturing.  Doppledanger- One of the most fun and confusing characters. He’s fun to meet but extremely terrifying in using truama to try and snag Doux. His whole design feels like a mimic in the best way. He feels and looks like something not quite of flesh. His relationship with Laisser feels split. He cares for Laisser, but has a very cruel way of trying to get Laisser’s goat. His shifting masks and forms are my favorite parts.  Specters/Elsens/Frog people- I just felt like adding these guys because i could. They all feel natural in their enivornments and the have small traits that make them feel live like. They’re really fun for background npcs. Pacing: The pacing in this game is so perfect. Everything is put together so fucking well. It starts with a sense of very light dread which evolves into a sense of desperate hussle. None of the story is spoiled too early and there is enough smaller details sprinkled in. It takes awhile to get to the main plot but each section is full of stepping stones to get to each boss. The stakes get a lot higher as the plot continues. Each zone is different and full of activites and extras that take away from emptiness that a lot of games have, but in a useful or enriching way. Nothing feels rushed into place like someone ran out of time and pushed a zone or event forward. Everything happens in keen order.  Design: God where to I begin? Mostly this will be level design. Adding extra elements to the zones was a welcomed changed. The ice, the park, the extra worlds, everything! Colors are used to an absolute t and it’s beautiful. This game makes usual nasty colors look fantastic. The moving backgrounds in certain places and the added effects are a nice break from the straight and narrow. People seem to want to stick too closely to the original OFF and fear breaking the lines a little. This stuns creativity. ONE expands the world far beyond the original, making it easier to invest in. Most of the puzzles and challenges come in a wide varity and it different ways than expected.

Artstyle: I could kiss ass about this style all day. It’s something very different from the standard and it works well with the themes. Everything can come off as cute or terrifying in the blink of an eye. It’s got a very memorable look and each new scene, object, or character brings out the style’s charm. I’ve always loved Fire’s art. Every character is strikingly different from each other.  Overview: ONE is one of my favorite games. It’s got a lot of OFF like mannerisms while having it’s own story, characters, and style that takes you throught the game. Even if OFF wasn’t really your thing I’m sure you could enjoy ONE.  Every inch of it is decorated in love and I am so in love with it. Explore the world and get wrapped up in a whole new story. Please give the creator lots of love! @chimakiisane has worked very hard on ONE and I completely adore it~ I know I repeated myself a lot through this review, but it’s wonderful and an expirence all on it’s own. 

[verdiprati]

Upcoming Performances by Dame Sarah Connolly

[NOTE: this post is now out of date. Check the schedule tag on my blog for the most recent version of this list.]

After the jump: an unofficial schedule of Dame Sarah Connolly’s future performances. Those of you in Britain may catch a performance in London, Cardiff, Leeds, Oxford, Gloucester, Bath, or Lewes. Those on the Continent may see her in Berlin, Madrid, Paris, Antwerp, Amsterdam, Geneva, Zeist, Baden-Baden, Vilabertran (Catalunya), or Capestang (Languedoc). And finally, those of us in North America have engagements in New York and Philadelphia to look forward to! Don’t live near one of these places? Take in a concert from afar: I am adding online broadcast and livestream details as they become available.

This is not an authoritative list. These are the upcoming performances by Dame Sarah Connolly that I have been able to learn about from Dame Sarah’s agent's website (Askonas Holt), Operabase, Bachtrack, Dame Sarah's Twitter, and generally ferreting around the web.

I sometimes list concerts that are not yet officially confirmed; you should of course check official sources before making plans and be aware that cast changes and cancellations can happen at any time.

I have added links to venue, ticketing, and broadcast information where available. Tips on new information are always welcome! Please contact me via email (verdiprati [at] selveamene [dot] com), Tumblr messaging, or ask box (plain prose only in the ask box; anything with links or an email address will get eaten by Tumblr filters) with corrections or additions.

Handel, Giulio Cesare (title role) at Glyndebourne, last two shows on July 24 and 28, 2018. In a revival of the legendary 2005 production by David McVicar, with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment conducted by William Christie (June 10 - July 6) and Jonathan Cohen (July 10 - 28). With Joélle Harvey as Cleopatra, plus Christophe Dumaux and Patricia Bardon reprising the roles of Tolomeo and Cornelia respectively; also starring Anna Stéphany (Sesto), John Moore (Achilla), and Kangmin Justin Kim (Nireno).

Recital of English song at the BBC Proms, Cadogan Hall, London, August 6, 2018. With Joseph Middleton. The repertoire includes works by Britten, Bridge, Vaughn Williams, Parry, Holst, and several others—all of whom “studied or taught at the Royal College of Music”—with two world premieres by Mark-Anthony Turnage and Lisa Illean.

[Broadcast] As with all BBC Proms performances, this one will be broadcast live on BBC Radio 3 and should remain available for listening on demand for about a month afterward.

Appearance at a charity concert to benefit the Ligue contre le cancer, Capestang, Languedoc, August 11, 2018. Dame Sarah’s participation is mentioned in English-language writeups here and here. There are very scant clues as to what repertoire she might perform.

Recital at the Schubertíada Vilabertran, August 18, 2018. With pianist Malcolm Martineau and viola player Jonathan Brown. Repertoire includes songs by Brahms, Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder, and English songs by Richard Rodney Bennett, Ivor Gurney, and Frank Bridge.

[New! Broadcast] I can’t figure out how to deep-link the schedule on the radio station’s website, but this concert is scheduled to be broadcast live on Catalunya Música. I can’t promise that it will be available for listening on demand later, but CatMúsica generally makes concert recordings available (sometimes after a few days’ delay) here. (You may need to click “Tots” to see the full list. Concerts expire from the website after about a month.) UPDATE: Sorry, false alarm! I was looking at a schedule of live performances in the region, not the schedule of radio broadcasts. Oops! There is other programming scheduled at the time of Dame Sarah’s recital at Vilabertran. I believe the recital will be recorded but presumably we will have to wait a few weeks or months before it comes up for broadcast.

[Masterclass] Public masterclass at Wigmore Hall, London, September 19, 2018. Part of Dame Sarah’s residency at the Wigmore. Tickets go on sale to the general public May 29.

Wagner, Das Rheingold and Die Walküre (Fricka in both) at the Royal Opera, London, September 24 through October 28, 2018. A revival of Keith Warner’s Ring Cycle, with Antonio Pappano conducting. For cast and date details, see the ROH web pages linked above. As of this writing, the ROH is only allowing customers to purchase tickets for an entire cycle of the four operas; I’m not sure whether they’ll allow separate booking later. The October 28 performance will be livecast to cinemas; the October 18 performance, also marked “Filming,” is presumably a dry run for the camera crews and/or a chance to gather additional footage for promos and perhaps an eventual DVD release (we can hope).

[Broadcast] As mentioned above, the October 28 performance of Die Walküre is scheduled for livecast to cinemas. You can use this page to search for a screening near you—if you live in the UK, Europe, South Africa, or the US. At the moment, there do not appear to be any screenings scheduled elsewhere.

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde at the Royal Festival Hall, London, September 29, 2018. With Stuart Skelton and the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Vladimir Jurowski. In a concert with Mitsiko Uchida playing Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 27.

Appearance at “Opera For All” anniversary show at the English National Opera, London, October 10, 2018. Repertoire TBA.  Somewhat ironically, tickets for “Opera For All” start at a hefty £45 for a few seats far back in the Upper Circle and Dress Circle, and climb steeply to £75 for the next cheapest price bracket. Update: the powers that be at ENO seem to have realized the error of their ways. As of this writing, I’m seeing tickets for £15 (very few seats), £45, and £55, as well as the pricier options (£75 and £125).

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde at the Philharmonie Berlin, October 14, 2018. With Torsten Kerl and the Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin conducted by Vladimir Jurowski.

[Broadcast] The concert listing on the RSB website includes a notation “Konzert mit Deutschlandfunk Kultur,” implying (I believe) that it will be broadcast on said radio station. As of this writing, it is still too early to confirm this on the radio station’s site, but keep an eye out closer to the date.

Recital of English song at the Oxford Lieder Festival, October 22, 2018. With Eugene Asti. Songs in English by numerous British composers including Rebecca Clarke, Muriel Herbert, and Sally Beamish. There is a good deal of overlap with the selections on Dame Sarah’s recent album “Come to Me in My Dreams.”

Concert with the Tenebrae Consort at Wigmore Hall, London, October 24, 2018. Part of Dame Sarah’s yearlong residency at the Wigmore. The mostly English repertoire centers on a new piece by Judith Bingham setting poetry by Ivor Gurney. The choir throws in some Schoenberg at the end. 

Blow, Venus and Adonis and Purcell, Dido and Aeneas in concert at the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam, November 3, 2018. With the Early Opera Company conducted by Christian Curnyn. Dame Sarah’s co-stars are Jonathan McGovern, Lucy Crowe, Dame Felicity Palmer, and Rowan Pierce.

Tippett, A Child of our Time at the Paris Philharmonie, November 7 and 8, 2018. With Michelle Bradley, Mark Padmore, John Relyea, and the Orchestre de Paris conducted by Thomas Adès in a concert also featuring symphonic works by Berlioz and Adès.

Recital at the Bath Mozartfest, Guildhall, Bath, November 13, 2018. With Joseph Middleton. Repertoire to include “Deh, per questo istante solo” from La Clemenza di Tito as well as songs by Schubert, Ravel, Debussy, Gurney, and Ireland. The Bath Box Office website says “Online booking for this event opens at 09:30 on 30 Jul 2018.”

"L’invitation au voyage,” song recital at Wigmore Hall, London, November 16, 2018. With James Newby and Joseph Middleton. The repertoire is Ravel-centric but not all by Ravel himself. Part of Dame Sarah’s residency at the Wigmore and also part of a Ravel song series being presented by the venue over the course of the year.

Beethoven, Missa Solemnis at deSingel, Antwerp, November 21, 2018. Part of a tour by Le Concert Olympique and the Arnold Schoenberg Chor. With Malin Hartelius, Steve Davislim, and Hanno Müller-Brachmann; conducted by Jan Caeyers.

Beethoven, Missa Solemnis at the Philharmonie Berlin, November 23, 2018. Part of a tour by Le Concert Olympique and the Arnold Schoenberg Chor. Tickets appear to be on sale here. With Malin Hartelius, Steve Davislim, and Hanno Müller-Brachmann; conducted by Jan Caeyers.

Beethoven, Missa Solemnis at the Festspielhaus Baden-Baden, December 1, 2018. Part of a tour by Le Concert Olympique and the Arnold Schoenberg Chor. With Malin Hartelius, Steve Davislim, and Hanno Müller-Brachmann; conducted by Jan Caeyers.

Appearance at the Glyndebourne Tour: Golden Anniversary Celebration at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, London, December 4, 2018. Sir Thomas Allen and Sir John Tomlinson are also appearing at the concert, and the Glyndebourne website says “More performers will be announced in the coming weeks.” The program has not been announced yet but I will be surprised if Dame Sarah doesn’t reprise an aria or two from Giulio Cesare. I don’t see a way to purchase tickets online but they apparently are available by phoning the box office.

Wagner, Das Rheingold (Fricka) at the Teatro Real, Madrid, January 17 through February 1, 2019. In a production by Robert Carsen; conducted by Pablo Heras-Casado. Co-stars include Greer Grimsley (Wotan) and Sophie Bevan (Freia) among others.

Berlioz, L’Enfance du Christ with the BBC National Orchestra of Wales at Hoddinott Hall, Cardiff, February 15, 2019. Sir Andrew Davis conducts; the other vocal soloists in the all-Brit, all-excellent lineup are Andrew Staples, Roderick Williams, and Matthew Brook.

Recital with Julius Drake at the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam, March 5, 2019. Works by R. Schumann, Brahms, Wolf, A. Mahler, and Zemlinsky.

Recital with Julius Drake at the Grand Théâtre de Genève, March 7, 2019. I don’t see the repertoire mentioned on the theater’s website as of this writing, but presumably it will be similar to the works presented in Amsterdam and Philadelphia in the duo’s other recitals this month.

Recital with Julius Drake at the Teatro de la Zarzuela, Madrid, March 11, 2019. Works by Brahms, Wolf, Roussel, Debussy, and Zemlinsky.

Recital with Julius Drake at Wigmore Hall, London, March 15, 2019. Part of Dame Sarah’s yearlong residency at the Wigmore. Repertoire TBA, but may have some works in common with those programmed for Connolly and Drake’s other recitals in the same month. Listed in the season preview brochure [PDF].

Recital with Julius Drake at the Kimmel Center, Philadelphia, March 22, 2019. Sponsored by the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society. Repertoire includes works by Brahms, Wolf, Roussel, Debussy, and Zemlinksy.

Wagner, Götterdämmerung (Waltraute) at the Metropolitan Opera, New York, April 27, May 4, and May 11, 2019. In a revival of Robert Lepage’s production of the Ring cycle, with all shows to be conducted by Philippe Jordan. Oddly, the entire cast list seems to have disappeared from the Met website, but Operabase confirms my recollection that Dame Sarah was once listed there. Dame Sarah’s co-stars in Götterdämmerung (according to notes that I took when the cast list was still on the Met site) include Christine Goerke (Brünnhilde), Stefan Vinke / Andreas Schager (sharing the role of Siegfried), Edith Haller (Gutrune), Eric Owens (Hagen), Evgeny Nitikin (Gunther), and Tomasz Konieczny (Alberich). The de-listing of the entire cast is very odd though and I would take this information with a grain of salt; perhaps there is some rejiggering going on. Update: the Metropolitan Opera announced in a tweet on August 9 that Dame Sarah will be replaced by Michaela Schuster in all performances of Götterdämmerung.

[Details TBA] Appearance at the Internationaal LiedFestival Zeist (Netherlands), late May, 2019. The festival dates are May 17-26. Programming details have not yet been released as of this writing, but Dame Sarah is mentioned as one of the performing artists.

Elgar, The Dream of Gerontius with the Hallé and three choruses at Victoria Hall, Leeds, June 1, 2019. Barry Banks and David Soar are the other vocal soloists; Simon Wright conducts. General ticket sales (for non-subscribers) begin August 18.

[New!] Mahler, Des Knaben Wunderhorn (extracts) and Janáček, Glagolitic Mass at the Maison de la Radio, Paris, June 20, 2019. With the Orchestre National de France and the Choeur de Radio France, conducted by Jukka-Pekka Saraste. The other soloists for the Glagolitic Mass are Simona Šaturová, Mati Turi, and Christof Fischesser.

[Broadcast] This concert will be broadcast live on France Musique.

Recital with Malcolm Martineau at Wigmore Hall, London, July 23, 2019. Part of Dame Sarah’s yearlong residency at the Wigmore. Repertoire TBA. Listed in the season preview brochure [PDF].

[New!] Berlioz, La damnation de Faust (in concert, presumably) at the Three Choirs Festival, Gloucester, July 27, 2019. With Peter Hoare, Christopher Purves, and David Ireland. Tickets go on sale to the general public on April 24. The concert is listed in the preview brochure here [PDF]; full program details are set to be announced in early 2019. 

[New!] Bob Chilcott, A Christmas Oratorio (premiere) at the Three Choirs Festival, Gloucester, August 1, 2019. With Nick Pritchard and Neal Davies. Tickets go on sale to the general public on April 24. The concert is listed in the preview brochure here [PDF]; full program details are set to be announced in early 2019. 

[Unconfirmed / details TBA] Handel, Agrippina at the Dutch National Opera. Hugh Canning recently tweeted the news that the Royal Opera is planning to offer Barrie Kosky’s new production of Agrippina with Joyce DiDonato in the title role; in a reply that has now been deleted, Dame Sarah mentioned that she and Alice Coote would do the same production in Amsterdam and Munich. (If you are a member of the Sarah Connolly fan group on Facebook, you can see a screenshot there.) Subsequent discussion revealed that Coote would get the Munich gig (in July 2019), so Connolly must be the Amsterdam Agrippina. The DNO has already announced its ‘18-’19 season and Agrippina isn’t in it, so presumably we’re looking towards ‘19-’20 or beyond.

[Unconfirmed / details TBA] Brett Dean, Hamlet (Gertrude) somewhere in the United States. Allan Clayton, who starred in the title role of Brett Dean’s Hamlet at Glyndebourne in 2017, mentioned in a recent interview with the Telegraph that he would be reprising the role at an unspecified date and venue in the US. When prompted on Twitter, Dame Sarah indicated that she would be participating in the revival, too (“I shall be misunderstanding my confused boy again”). Hat tip to Christopher Lowrey, who sang Guildenstern in the original production at Glyndebourne, whose tweet praising Allan Clayton brought the Telegraph interview to my attention. (No indication whether Lowrey will also be cast in the American revival.)

[Details TBA] A future appearance at the Opéra national de Paris is mentioned in the current bio that can be downloaded from Dame Sarah’s page on the Askonas Holt website (click “Publicity Pack”). I cannot find her name mentioned anywhere in the 2018-2019 season, so I suppose we must wait until at least the fall of 2019 if not later.

Previous versions of this list can be found under the schedule tag on this blog. This list published July 24, 2018. Edited July 26 to add the broadcast link for the BBC Proms recital. Edited July 28 to add the US revival of Hamlet. Edited August 5 to add the Catalunya Música live broadcast of the concert from Vilabertran. Edited August 8 to add the two Three Choirs Festival concerts in Gloucester. Edited August 9 to reflect Dame Sarah’s withdrawal from the Met Götterdämmerung. Edited August 16 to remove the (nonexistent, as it turns out) Catalunya Música live broadcast of the concert from Vilabertran, with apologies for the error, and to update the list of locations where the ROH  Walküre live cinema telecasts may be seen. Edited August 22 to add the Paris Des Knaben Wunderhorn and Glagolitic Mass. Edited August 29 to add Dame Sarah’s appearance at the Glyndebourne Tour special event in December. I may continue to edit this list as I receive new information.

[sirotito]

No Ball for Black Women

No Ball for Black Women!

"Cookies for everyone tonight — my treat," the actress began after passing out the sweets to Leonardo DiCaprio and Lady Gaga (among others). "Hollywood Foreign Press, thank you. I mean, who knew that playing an ex-convict would take me all around the globe. It just goes to show — I thought it would be Queenie, Will, my character from Karate Kid — but it's Cookie, who spent 17 years in jail for selling crack. So, the world loves real, thank you. This quote is the speech given by Taraji P. Henson after winning the Golden Globe Award in 2016. Sadly black women like Taraji P. Henson, Viola Davis, Angela Bassett, Cicely Tyson, Whoopi Goldberg, Oprah Winfrey and countless others whose talents are unparalleled, are not the standard of greatest. In fact, women aren’t celebrated in predominately male dominated roles such as director, composer or visual technology. The film and television industry promotes a misogynistic image of black women. White male writers and directors have a way of framing the oppression and condition of black womanhood, just as the history of America has since its inception, devoid and invisible. The media, a major player in identity and social perception. Controls the narrative of black women in America as well as how others view them. Which has consistently been within the scope of stereotypical images that places black woman in sexist, racist, degrading roles. Many movies and television shows like “Empire” the Taraji is recognized for show a black woman how supports her drug dealing boyfriend in his dreams to become a rapper. Entangled in his illegal endeavors “Cookie”, Taraji’s character in the shows goes to jail for years while her sons a left to be raised by the father who does a poor job because he had no father. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Science in cahoots with the Broadway League and The American Theatre Wing, three powerful entities which control the creation and progression of film. The Academy persist of a Board of Governors, divided into each discipline represented. Although there are roughly fifty-four seats, twenty-six of those are women, three of those twenty-six women are black. So how do we begin to change the narrative of black women in America? When power white dominated organizations refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of womanhood and their voices in their own struggle. When black women stop playing by the rules of a white capitalist society.

Now more than ever before, the black feminist movement has taken a hold of social media and various black female influencers who have been promoted the message of black womanhood and representing themselves in all of their glory against stereotypes and negative images of black women. By creating their own organization that promotes unity and value from within their share identity to include non-cisgender female. Black women challenge the sexist and racist hierarchy within the entertainment industry by forming bonds and producing work that cannot be ignored. Playing the long game to get in the driver seat of white made organization will only get you noticed for the admiration of white hegemonic society. Whilst creating spaces for you, by you will develop and self-securing dynasty of not just black female presence in male dominates spaces but shift the perception of society of black women in general.  Thus, black female story tellers of today like Regina King, Ava Duvernay, Issa Rae and Lena Waithe should tell stories of black women hood that reflect all the identities of black women, past and present. All of these women have told the stories of black women, as a black woman, and none of them have every been acknowledged by The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Science. Throughout the entire history of the Academy, only one black female has won the Oscar for Best Actress. The most prestigious honored among your peers and society. Such as honor bestowed great honor to the image of black womanhood, an honor that is yet to be given. The only black woman to receive the Oscar for best actress is Halle Berry. A bi-racial cisgender woman, who played the role of a strung – out struggling wife of an executed prisoner, she’s known for the shameful sex seen that happens between her and the white male lead. These are the only images that mainstream white supremacy want to see and believe are the authentic representations of black women. That is until black women and men take it upon themselves to use their momentum in filling spaces and roles that were white dominated and un-tell the stories told by white America of the negro tales in history past and present. Controlling the narrative and putting the voices of black men and women in the mouths and hands of people who lived and story, experience its effects firsthand and who have the right to the words.

[shankarjaikishanfansassnintl]

Recording of Jaane Chaman Shola badan

By

Sharda

  ·

I could not beleive my ears when Shanker sab told me that he is going to record a duet with me & Rafi sab . I say, ‘ What ? Me ? Meeeeee ?…. With Rafi sab ? You must be kidding ‘ He says ‘ no you are singing duet with Rafi . The recording is fixed . From tomorrow we are doing rehearsals ‘…. God .. Oh God…………..

The rehearsals over, dawns the day of the recording .

The historical Famous studios Tardeo , from where thousands of evergreen songs have come out for us.

You go up the few steps , then you come to the passage , To your right side is the recording room with mixers & recorders & giant film rolls mounted upon huge machines. Those days they used to record songs on film rolls.

Adjoining the control room comes the singers room with microphone stands & all . You go a little further there comes the musicians’ hall big enough to hold all of S J musicians & more .

Sitting in the control room is the top recordist Minoo Katrakji with his assistant Mr Bansali next to him .

I am sitting in the singers’ room wondering how Rafi sab is going to react to me . What if he does not like me ?

The hall is filled with musicians ,Shankerji standing in the middle surrounded by Hasrat sab & the producer ‘s people

In the far corner sit rows & rows of violinists with violas , cellos & double bass in the last row. The first row will play the melody part .Many MDs keep single violin to play the melody . But SJ liked to keep more , Next rows play the music ,the next one play the counters & behind them the row plays the bass part

Next to them sitting are soloists like keyboardist , lead guitarist & as such .

Then a group of four or five melody rhythm guitars is sitting with top piano player of India Mr Roberts sitting in the grand piano behind them .

Then comes the rhythm section…drums , congo , tumba bongo & all . Next to them in a raised dais sit a dozen or so percussionists with all sorts of sound making gadgets like maracus kabash tambourine bells rotos scratchers screechers chuk chuks , chick chicks etc.

The music rehearsals start with Shankerji checking , Sebastianji making the musicians play part by part , piece by piece to perfection with Dattaramji bringing the rhythm beats along.

When all parts are rehearsed then comes the final rehearsal with song melody & music.

Shankerji’s himalayan personality & musical genius charging the musicians with enormous energy & enthusiasm they play by their heart & soul loosing themselves in a musical dream. Nearly hundred musicians playing at one time bringing out a glorious out of the world sound of music.

Fifty or so bows gliding front & back on the bridges of violins , fingers caressing strings of guitars & other music instruments , sticks dancing on the drums …..oof ……what a sound..

You should see it to believe it , you should hear it by your own ears to believe it .What you will hear is not even 50% of this magnificence. The microphones will struggle to take all this , but they wouldnt be able to handle. The recordist will sacrifice the counters & seconds in order to keep the voice up & the words clear.

It is Shankerji’s orchestration , for heaven’s sake . It is no one piece played by some violins ,stop , another piece played by another instrument , stop , then another piece played by another.

At one time three / four channels of music played by different sets of musicians , the first part , second , bass part , counters , fillers & what not …Do you hear all these parts when you listen to the records or anywhere else?

The musicians mesmerised by the sound they themselves are creating play as if bound by a magic musical spell.The hall swings & sways drowned in a musical nasha .

I watch this spectacular scene , awestruck , my heart floating in the clouds of music ,

Then the song comes to the end .The rehearsal conducted to perfection .

Presently the singer room’s door opens

Rafi sab enters , with a smile on his face . A divine aura fills the room as if a saint is entering the room ,

I get up to greet him . He signals me to sit down . Just then Shankerji , Hasrat sab , & the producers come in the room . They all greet one another .Then Shankerji introduces me to him . He acknowledges the introduction with a kind smile … No nose in the air stuff for him . No ‘ I am the greatest , who are you ? ‘ look in his eyes He says some nice , encouraging words to me. My fear & apprehensions fade away.

Seeing tension released Shankerji begins the voice rehearsal with full music playing . We both sing the full song along with full music.. Everything fine .

Rehearsals over , coconut breaking over time for recording .

The producers Hasrat sab & others go to the control room while Shankerji stays in the singers room to conduct both of us.

Rafi sab gets up to go to the mike stand. I tell him ‘ Rafi sab , till yesterday I was just fan of yours , I will always be a fan of yours . Now how can I stand next to you & sing ?’

He says in a most assuring manner ,’ Dont you worry , you are doing fine .You will do a good job ‘. The greatest singer of India standing there & talking to a newcomer in a most humble manner . I could not trust my ears.

Some what relieved . still wondering what I am going to do I look at all the musicians & I look at the door longingly , my heart saying ‘ get out & run away ‘…..But my legs take me to the mike . I stand there holding the stand wishing I was at home lounging in my favourite chair , reading Archie comics , eating hot hot home made pakoras………No chance of such luxury just now…….But another luxury waits for me….

The recording starts ..one… two… three.. four…

The music goes , ‘ Tararararararara… tarararararara tararara tararara………………

My heart also goes ,’Tarararararara …tararararara … ..somewhere high up in the sky , I dont know where.

I hear Rafi sab’s voice come floating in the air,’ Jane chaman shola badan pahlume ajao ‘

At this time Shanker sab comes to my rescue .

He waves his arm & lifts it , lifting my voice & the song comes out ‘O mere dil , mere humdum bahome ajao’ Rafi sab’s voice again . ‘Jane chaman …. & mine ‘O mere dil ………….

A dream world opens up … in this world there is nothing but the melody music & the song ..

The air drenching in the ecstatic sprinkle of music , Shankerjis arms moving in rhythmic waves Rafi sab’s voice leading , the song comes flowing like a dancing river

Time stands still ,listening to the song , five minutes.. five hours … eternity ? I dont know..

First music …. antara .. second music ……The song sails thro the cables into the machine in the control room..

Suddenly everything stops . No sound .. The song gets over .. I come back to the real world. Is the song recorded or what ?

Shankerji goes to the control room hears the song & he calls out ‘O K ‘

Loud cheers in the hall . We all collect in the hall to hear it in the big screen…The song is played in full volume……..Wow……………………………… Everyone is happy . Rafi sab gives me his blessings.

Pedhas are distributed .. Come, take your pedha..

[bluerosewrites]

How Can You’ll Say You’ll Be Mine? aka Rewrite the Stars Ch. 2

I did the thing lol. Avoided adult responsibilities and wrote another fluffy Toni/Zira chapter. You’re welcome. :D Read here or on Ao3. (Read chapter one here, or on Ao3).

Chapter 2: How Can You Say You'll be Mine?

Pairing: Zira Fell/Antonia Crowley (Aziraphale/Crowley)

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2348 (4211 total)

Summary: This is an AU set after the armageddon-that-didn't. One where Antonia Crowley is a badass viola player in a punk band, and Zira Fell is one of her best friends. They're both obviously pining for each other but neither is brave enough to act on those feelings. Until now.

Go read chapter one if you haven't already, because Zira and Toni are semi OC as well as being based on Gaiman's/Pratchett's.

Notes:So it's been a while since Zira serenaded Toni at that pub show. The pair have been hanging out more and more, which is great, but Zira is having anxiety and FEELINGS and oh NOOOOO.

Mostly fluff. I don't write smut, but you have an imagination. Use it where you see fit. ;)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So...” breathed Toni, her fingers lightly tracing patterns across Zira’s back.

“So...” agreed Zira in an even softer voice, curling even deeper into Toni’s shoulder. Her head lay nestled under Toni’s chin, her cheek pressed to the demon’s chest. The pair was sprawled across Toni’s bed, their bodies touching everywhere possible. Zira had her arms tucked beneath her as she lay on Toni’s chest. Their legs were tangled together beneath the bedding. Each wore a tank top and sleep bottoms.

Toni shifted slightly to try and get a better look at Zira’s face. She felt the angel tense atop her and her hands stilled in their caresses.

“What is it, angel, everything alright?” Toni pressed a kiss to Zira’s soft blonde curls. She watched Zira look down and bite her lip before responding. “It’s just...I know this is going to sound silly. But I’m...I’m scared,” Zira choked out, stumbling over her words. Zira straightened and sat up a little to look at Toni’s face as Toni shifted again.

“Scared? Of what?” Toni gently took Zira’s chin in one hand. “And I would never find what you’re feeling silly,” she said reassuringly, “Well, almost anything.” Toni used her other hand to ruffle Zira’s curls and then cupped her cheeks with both hands. Zira cast her eyes downwards. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Toni murmured gently.

Zira sighed and let out an unintelligble “Mrpgh.”

Toni chuckled. “Didn’t quite catch that, angel. Try again?” Her smile disappeared as she was unable to get an answering smile from the other celestial. Instead, Zira wouldn’t even meet Toni’s eyes.

The angel sat up completely, disentangling their limbs and moving to an empty part of the bed. She sat with her legs crossed and her arms with shaky hands holding her abdomen. She drew as deep a breath as she could manage whilst compressing her body so tightly. She kept her gaze fixed on a detail of the pattern on the duvet until she felt her pulse slow, her hands stop their shaking, and not feel quite as much like the world was ending. Damn anxiety. She’d been native for too long on this planet and picked up some unfortunate side effects as a result.

Zira unwound her arms from around herself, clasping her hands together, and took a deep breath. “It’s just...it took us 6,000 years to get to this point, and-I-don’t-want-to-lose-you...and I’m scared, Toni I don’t-want-to-live-without-you,” She stumbled over her words as they all came out in a rush.

She steeled herself and looked up to find Toni staring at her with a look. She’d been able to convince the demon to take off her ever-present sunglasses, and she found herself caught in those eyes. Those eyes had haunted her dreams, when she’d been able to sleep, for the past 6,000 years. She had them, as well as the face they belonged to, memorized at this point. The expression they currently wore was one full of love and longing.

“Oh, Zira...” Toni breathed.

Zira fought back tears and bit her lip, “That’s me,” she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Toni crawled over to where Zira sat and caressed her cheek with tender fingers, wiping away the tears threatening to fall. Zira flinched, but remained where she was. She closed her eyes and leaned into Toni’s touch with a shiver.

“Now, you listen to me,” Toni began with mock sternness, “I’ve spent the last 6,000 odd years looking out for you,” this earned a small smile and chuckle from Zira, “And I don’t plan on changing that any time soon. I’m not going anywhere.” Toni brought her other hand up to cup Zira’s face and pressed a long kiss to the angel’s forehead.

Toni drew back, taking the angel’s hands in her own. “Now, I’ll admit, after the armageddon-that-didn’t, I thought we were in a different place.” Toni noticed Zira looking away briefly at this. She continued, “And I suppose we were, but not where I  thought we were.”

Zira’s gaze found its way to her lap. She felt like she should speak up, but the words were trapped in her throat. Her eyes were drawn to the couple’s entwined hands, and finally up to Toni’s earnest face as the fallen angel started speaking once more.

“But that’s okay, angel. Even if you had never expressed an interest in that way in me, I wanted you in my life.” Toni pressed a kiss to the back of Zira’s hand before continuing. “And look at us now! I’m in a band, we have these very cool friends that I’m not even sure where they came from, but I do know I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“It’s ineffable,” murmured Zira with a wry smile.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of--” Toni’s teasing snark was cut off by Zira.

“I said, IT’S INEFFABLE!” she cried, in a voice a tad louder than intended. She let out a nervous smile and the pair devolved into giggles. When they had sufficiently recovered from the laughing fit, Zira took Toni’s hands into her own once more.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to be with you,” she began, a serious expression across her face. Toni’s eyes took on an earnest gleam, and she nodded softly for Zira to continue. She wasn’t about to interrupt now that the angel had found her voice again. The aforementioned took a deep breath and carried on.

“After...after everything that happened, I really wanted to. But 6,000 years is a long time, and, well, I’d gotten so used to the way things were, and...” she trailed off. Toni’s eyes softened.

“I know,” Toni breathed, cupping the angel’s face with one hand, “And I never expected you to change overnight. You’ve been through so much. Believe me, if I could get my hands on Gabriel...” the demon drew her hands out of Zira’s and mimed a choking motion, among other violent acts. Her eyes grew even more fiery than normal. But when her gaze met Zira’s bright blue orbs, the fire went out. She cleared her throat and dropped her hands.

“Point being, angel, I get it. And we can go as slow as you want. But I’m not going ANYWHERE, I can promise you that,” and with these words Toni watched her angel’s eyes fill with tears once more.

“Oh, hon, don’t cry,” she breathed, gathering the angel into her arms and bringing her head to her chest once more, “I mean, I’m not saying you can’t cry, coz crying is a healthy thing and all...” Toni trailed off and pressed a kiss to Zira’s curls. “Shhhh,” she soothed, rocking a bit and began tracing soothing circles onto Zira’s back.

After a time, Zira’s breathing slowed and her crying ceased. “Hey, do you remember, when we switched bodies, and I asked Michael,” Zira began.

Toni cut her off, “To bring you a towel, yes of course I remember! How could I forget?!”

The angel shifted in Toni’s arms so she was looking up at Toni’s face. “I love you, you know.”

Toni took a shuddering breath. “Yes. Yes, I do know, but it’s still nice to hear.” She smiled, raking her fingers gently through Zira’s hair. She paused in her ministrations and leaned down to kiss Zira, pausing halfway there.

Zira nodded and closed the distance between them. Their lips met and each could taste the salt of tears shed, but it seemed to only make the kiss that much sweeter, because of what they had worked through between their last kiss and this. Toni deepened the kiss and received a quiet moan in response. She smiled against their joined lips and tangled one hand in Zira’s hair, wrapping her other arm around the angel’s back.

Zira pulled back briefly, to an answering whine from the demon at the lack of contact. She smiled and reassured Toni with a laugh, “My dear, I’m coming back, I just had to shift positions because we really weren’t in the best, nor most comfortable one.”

Toni grunted her assent and stretched out her limbs, beckoning the angel over. Zira complied with only enough delay to slightly tease the poor demon, a knee on either side of Toni’s hips, arms wrapped around her shoulders.

It’s anyone’s guess how long they remained in this, or similar, positions, and not being human, they didn’t strictly need to breathe. It could have been minutes. Hours. Days, even. Neither of them had any true responsibilities to speak of. Finally, though, the two were in a position similar to how they started. Zira was lying on her side, limbs thrown across Toni. Toni was alternating tracing patterns on her back and playing with her hair. Zira hummed in contentment.

“This is nice,” she breathed, “But you know what would make it even better?!” She opened her eyes and looked up at Toni.

“What, mi angelita?” Toni crooned with a smile, peering down at Zira’s sparkling eyes.

“Crepes.” Zira crowed. Toni chuckled as Zira went off on a barely-intelligible ramble about the magical qualities of crepes.

“Well, you’ve got two choices, then,” Toni said, cutting off the angel’s crepe musings, “I suppose three, but the third choice is staying here and doesn’t involve crepes, so...”

“No! Must have creeeeepes!” cried Zira in a mock delirium, throwing the limbs not underneath Toni all akimbo.

Toni laughed. “That’s what I thought. So. There’s a new crepes shop just down the street,” she started, seeing the angel’s eyes light up, “But we’d have to get dressed for that,” she saw Zira’s face fall slightly and the celestial flung herself even further across the bed.

“Nooooo. Must stay in comfy clooooothes,” Zira declared, as if this was the greatest tragedy to ever befall the two.

“Or,” Toni began, and immediately the angel perked up, “I could try my hand at making some for you. I’ve been practicing...” she trailed off as Zira managed to complete the extrication process and leap to her feet. Toni chuckled and put her feet on the ground as well, letting out a slow groan as she got out of bed and stretched.

“Brrr!” said Toni, shivering, “S’cold. I don’t like it,” she pouted. Zira laughed and tossed a cozy robe at her to put on.

“Here,” she said, putting on another layer of her own as she spoke, “And put on some socks or slippers or something and let’s make some CREPES!”

Toni laughed at her antics, watching Zira bounce and dance her way out of the room. She put on the robe and hunted for some socks. She had managed to find some and put one on when she heard, “Come ooooonnn! Crepe time!”

Toni shook her head and put on the remaining sock, chuckling to herself. Yep, this was her angel. She didn’t know what they were, but they loved each other. Were on their own side. And today, that meant attempting crepes. So she made her way to the kitchen, and her angel.

Notes:

So yeah, the next chapter will likely be the adventure of Toni attempting crepes. xD

I don't write smut, but feel free to imagine what you like happening after the kiss. ;-) I don't think they're QUITE at that stage yet, but you have an imagination. ;D

PLEASE let me know what you think! Comments and critiques are always welcome (be gentle). Kudos are always appreciated. <3

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

@victoriagebo @alinnsurana

[theeurekaproject]

Sub Noctem

Lyra woke up to laser lights.

She rubbed her head and looked at the blood trickling down onto her hands. She didn't entirely remember how she'd gotten here or what happened to her, but she didn't really need to. She didn't exactly have a home to go back to, anyway.

She stood up and reached in her pocket for a mirror. Her wallet was missing, not that there was anything in it to begin with. Small as they were, she knew better than to leave her night's earnings anywhere as obvious as a wallet.

The mirror on her compact had long since broken, but she couldn't afford a new one. It was the first thing she'd ever bought with her own money, a whopping five credits and fifty three cents earned over the course of four days of double shifts. In hindsight, spending that much money on something as stupid as a compact seemed thoughtless, but she'd been young then. It was probably about a decade ago, so Lyra was five, maybe six?

Through the cracks in the mirror, she could see that her bright pink, bubblegum-colored hair was somehow even messier than it usually was, and one side of her face was covered in deep violet bruises she didn't remember getting. Somebody probably beat her up and took her wallet, she reasoned. Part of her wondered why they didn't just kill her if they were going to mug her and dump her in an alley, but maybe the robber didn't want to get their hands dirty unnecessarily. Besides, they probably knew they'd never get prosecuted. Even if Lyra somehow worked up the courage to waltz into a police station, they'd never believe a Cantator, anyway.

She tried in vain to smooth the tangles on her head. The blood from the laceration she'd somehow sustained had dried in her hair, making it even worse. She remembered buying a comb at some point, but some other girl had immediately stolen it, and she never bothered trying to recover it. It was best not to pick a fight if one could help it down here.

Abandoning the hope of making herself look decent, she tucked the compact mirror back into her purse. Pretty girls got the best tips, but with the bruises and the cuts and the acne she already had, fixing her hair probably wouldn't help much anyway. If she had makeup, she might have been able to make herself look better, but she couldn't afford that, either.

She set off to work, not entirely knowing what time it was. Judging by the amount of teenage girls on street corners, it was probably late at night. Keeping track of time was difficult when the sunlight couldn't shine through the buildings to reach here, and she had no idea how long she'd slept for.

She entered through the back door of the building, not wanting to deal with the crowd outside. "You're late," one of the dancers snarled, leaning against the wall by the door.

"You think I don't know that?" Lyra asked.

"Well, if you knew that, why didn't you get here faster? It's been like an hour since you were supposed to be here. Viola's going to be pissed."

"Viola's probably too drunk to notice."

The dancer sighed. "I'd like to argue with you, but you're probably right. At least, I hope you are, for your sake."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine."

It was true that Viola could be nasty when she wanted to be. Still, Lyra had dealt with far worse before—Viola wasn't anywhere near as formidable as a threat as she thought she was. She was one of those people who went mad with power when given the slightest hint of authority, and who exercised her drug-fueled stim rage on her underlings just for the hell of it. But when it came down to it, Viola was nothing more than a 30-year-old woman who looked and acted like a 60-year-old because of her history of violence and substance abuse, and there was nothing she could really do but yell at Lyra and steal her tips, which happened on a daily basis anyway.

Lyra washed her hands quickly—not like it would help; it was filthy everywhere, and she was sure the water had just as many germs as the surroundings—and put on an apron. It was probably supposed to look sexier than it did, but because Lyra was so short, it hung around her knees instead of high up on her thighs. Then she put on the rest of the overly cutesy, cheaply made, poorly designed ensemble—uncomfortable heels with no arch support, a choker with the same lacy details as the apron, thin satiny gloves that wouldn't protect against anything, and bows for her scraggly hair. Because even the cleaning staff had to be eye candy.

"You look ridiculous," said Alicaria. Alicaria wasn't the name on her birth certificate—like many others here, she probably didn't even have a birth certificate—but she was an alicaria, so that's what they called her. It worked well that way; Sufflava for the girl with platinum blonde hair, Saltatrix for the prima ballerina, Sambuca for the harp player. Lyra had gotten her name from when Cithara was ill for two months and she'd made extra tips by playing the abandoned lyre. Cantatores didn't get names. They were defined by their caste and their job, because that's the only thing they were good for, and Lyra was no exception.

"I look better than you," she retorted. Alicaria was dressed in a ridiculous ensemble designed to show off her curves, but she didn't really have anything to show other than protruding ribs and a hunger-swollen stomach.

"Give it two more years and you'll be in my position," Alicaria said. "Hell, maybe even less than that. Just wait until Aria kicks the bucket."

"What happened to Aria?" Lyra asked.

"Pregnant. The last kid nearly killed her—she woulda died if it weren't for that charity doctor woman who cut open her organs to get the baby out. And God knows we aren't going to get charity doctors down here anymore, not since Alestra passed all those regulations on which castes can go where."

Lyra laughed. "Let's hope Acidalia's better." "Acidalia? Please," Alicaria scoffed. "I doubt she'll make it a month before she's dead."

Lyra knitted her eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

"Did you hear the news? Last night, some aristocrat got fed up and tried to kill her in the middle of some party. Cassiopeia was her name, I think? The girl from the Generalis family. It was a whole big thing."

"An assassination attempt?" Lyra's eyes widened. "Wow. I would not want to be in that Generalis girl's position right now."

"More like you don't want to be in Acidalia's position. Half the court wants her dead, apparently."

"Why?" Lyra asked. She was well aware that any sort of criticism of the Imperial family was liable to lead to death for treason. Even though the laws were always different for the upper class, she felt like trying to murder the Imperatrix Ceasarina was one of those things that was always frowned upon, regardless of social status.

"Beats the hell out of me. Apparently she's a Martian bastard child, but that's just a rumor. And you know, she supposedly has a rocky relationship with Alestra. Anyway," Alicaria said, "I'm just a Cantator. What do I know?"

"More than me," Lyra replied. "I don't even watch the news. They never play it in here."

"Yeah, guys like to watch sports mostly." Alicaria rolled her eyes. "Drives me mad. I'll be sitting there flirting with some guy and all he cares about is which idiot, doped-up transhuminist cyborg beats the other idiot, doped-up transhumanist cyborg… oh, shit."

"What? Oh, Viola." Lyra sighed. "I should go."

"No, not Viola. Look." Alicaria pointed at a pair of young men who had mistakenly waltzed right into the back entrance. "Who the hell are they?" "I don't know, some soldiers on shore leave?" Alicaria shook her head. "Nah, they're immunes. Look at them. They ain't the type of draft dodgers who show up in here on the regular. They've got money."

"What's an immune?" Lyra asked, but Aricaria was already hanging off one of the soldier's arms, looking at him like a predator eyeing its prey.

"So," she asked, her voice a husky vibrato, "come here often?" The soldier boy laughed and puffed out his chest to show his shiny pins and badges. Lyra had no idea what they were for, but they sure looked important.

"Not really," he said. "What's a pretty girl like you doing down here?"

"Mmmm, wouldn't you like to know." She twirled a piece of bleach-blonde hair around her finger and giggled as if she'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. "What's your name, handsome?" "Well, officially AX-C240, but my friends call me Ace," he said cockily.

AX unit? Lyra thought. They were specialists, the type of people who got invited to classy parties and hung out with aristocrats—the sons of the rich and famous. Alicaria was right—these people had money, and they looked like the exact type of dumb upper-crusts who paid more than was necessary because they didn't know what was the normal rate. And there were two of them. She'd never so much as touched a boy before, but she desperately needed cash, and—

"Stop it, Ace," the other boy said, interrupting Lyra's train of thought. For some strange reason, she felt almost relieved. "She's a meretrix, she's just trying to get your money."

Alicaria pouted. "Well, you don't have to say it like that."

"Well, I'm right, aren't I?" the boy asked. "Neither of us have credits to spare right now, anyway."

"Like hell you don't," Alicaria snapped. "You're part of one of the highest ranked sectors in the entire army and you're wearing ceremonial gear to boot. You look like the goddam Imperatrix herself."

Suddenly the boy's face went white. "What? Who told you that?"

"Jeez, nobody. Relax," Alicaria said huffily. "You people are always so paranoid. Either spend some money or get out."

The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, okay. We won't be using your services, you can leave now."

"Whatever." Alicaria stomped away, her mismatched stilettos clacking against the grimy hardwood floor.

Lyra turned back to the two men. "Who are you looking for?" "Are you trying to sell us something?" Ace asked suspiciously.

"No, I'm the maid slash underage eye candy for creepy dudes." Lyra gestured to her apron. "Just trying to be helpful."

"Well, you don't look very much like 'eye candy,' no offense," he said. "Did you know your nose has been bleeding for this entire conversation?"

Lyra lifted a hand to her nose. It was bloody. "Huh."

"What happened to you?" the other soldier asked. "You look like you got jumped."

Lyra shrugged. "I probably did get jumped." The soldiers looked at each other, surprised. They definitely seemed like the type of exploitable young idiots who didn't know how things worked down here—anyone who came to the Undergound without knowing the incredibly high crime rate was setting themselves up for failure.

"You look awful," the soldier said. "Do you want a bandage or something? The name's T, by the way." "Lyra," Lyra said, "but that's not my real name. I don't really have one." T shrugged. "Neither do I." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny medkit, which expanded open into a full kit like a pop-up book when he touched the red cross on the front.

"Latex or non-latex?"

"Don't care," Lyra replied indifferently, but inside she was pleasantly surprised. She'd never had somebody pause to help her before, let alone ask her preferred type of bandage. T handed her a pink one in the same color as her hair, which she plastered on her bleeding cheek.

"Thanks," she said, smiling at him—a genuine smile, not a please-give-me-your-money smile. "Who are you looking for anyway?"

"Her name's Cassandra," Ace said. A lightbulb went off in Lyra's head.

"What's her caste?"

Ace paused momentarily, racking his brain for something. "A Scientia, I think? Her daughter used to be an astrophysicist student, I know that much. But then Cass got caught committing some type of crime and they went on the run, and now they're down here someplace."

"I think I know her!" Lyra exclaimed.

T snorted. "Trust me, you'd know if you knew Cassandra." "I think I do. She's kind of popular around these parts," Lyra explained. "I've never met her personally, but I know a little about her. She's supposedly nicer than most lenae and has a terrifying cat."

"A well known lena cat lady," T chuckled. "She was always bad at keeping a low profile, wasn't she?"

Ace nodded. "She's so attention-seeking. Do you know where she is?"

Lyra thought for a moment. "I think she might live near the lustris across the street? I always assumed she was the procuress, but apparently that's not true." "Nah," Ace said. "She just likes to make up stories. You want to come with us?" T sighed. "Ace, we can't just—"

"She's bleeding, T," Ace argued, his voice sounding more whiny than Lyra expected from such a pompous-looking soldier.

T frowned. "Fine. But only because you're hurt and Cass has a bigger medkit than I do. And we're in such deep shit that I doubt Cassandra would object to us bringing along a random praeministra."

Lyra sighed. "I mean, I do have work. But I'm also late, and the more I can avoid Viola—my supervisor—the better." "Who's Viola?" Ace asked.

"She works for my Magister," Lyra said. "She's not dangerous or anything, but she's kind of a jerk."

"And who's your Magister?" "The guy who owns me," Lyra said.

The soldiers looked at each other, alarmed.

"Not owns me like a slave," she added quickly. "I mean, he didn't buy me—well I guess he did, kinda. I'm just in a lot of debt to him—well, actually, my mother is in a lot of debt to him, but she's probably either dead or worse, so it's my problem now."

"That doesn't seem fair," Ace said.

Lyra smiled sadly. "Life isn't fair. You just have to make do with the cards you're dealt."

"Maybe we can deal you another, better card," Ace offered, holding out a hand. "Actually, that's probably a bad analogy. I don't know how card games work."

"It works well enough for me," Lyra laughed, taking his hand. "You know, I want to go with you, but I don't think I can. I have a job… and as shitty as it is, it's a job. Those are hard to come by, especially for Cantatores. And I need money, badly. I can't just walk away from this to follow two guys I just met." T and Ace looked at each other. They shared a moment of understanding that Lyra was not privy to, then turned to face her again.

"I can offer you a lot more money than you're making now," T said, his voice quieter. "And a comfortable place to sleep, and three hot meals a day."

Lyra suddenly had a realization. "You're trying to rope me into some human trafficking ring, or a cult, or an organ harvesting operation, aren't you? Because that's exactly what this sounds like."

T rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess it kind of looks like that. It's not, though."

"And I should believe you why?" Lyra asked, crossing her arms.

"I mean, there really isn't a reason. You don't have to come with us," Ace said. "I just… feel bad. No offense, but you look like garbage."

Lyra didn't think she looked that bad, all things considered… but then again, these two were clearly wealthy—not even middle-class, could-afford-their-own-apartment wealthy, but really wealthy—and they probably had different standards for how people were supposed to look. And they were being nice to her. That was new.

"Your nose is still bleeding," T added, offering her thick bundle of gauze.

Lyra looked at him, then looked at the doorway to the inside of the bar. Truthfully, she wanted to take this chance, but there was just such a high risk of it being something deadly. If she followed these soldiers, as nice as they were, there was a high chance she'd never return.

But what did she have to come back to, anyway?

She had no future down here. In all honesty, she would never work off that debt—she'd be in her sixties before it was gone, and that's assuming she made it past twenty, which most girls didn't. Aria probably wouldn't make it past 18 if Alicaria was right, and she usually was. And what would Lyra do then? She wouldn't be indebted, but she'd still have no money to speak of and no job lined up, so she'd just keep working here… and nothing would change, debt or no debt. She'd be broke forever, reliant on people born into money to give her scraps of charity off their great table. This might be the one opportunity she had to break that cycle.

"Okay," she decided. "Let's go, but quickly."

"You sure changed your tune," T said, surprised.

"Ever come to the realization that the whole system is a kind of screwed up cycle and you're stuck in it?" Lyra asked.

"Funnily enough," he said, "I have."

Lyra assumed he was talking about the military complex—she didn't entirely know what that was, but it seemed like a newsworthy buzzword that soldiers would talk about—but there was something in his tone that suggested otherwise. She looked more closely at him, trying to understand what he meant. Then she noticed that his almost-orange skin and brown, Martian eyes were incredibly familiar. He reminded her of somebody she'd seen before.

There were plenty of half-Martians in the army, and most Eleutherian soldiers were supposed to look alike. She was probably just thinking of some other man. Still, for some reason the resemblance was almost reassuring.

Lyra took the apron off and hung it back up on the nail that served as a hook. She wanted to say something cool about leaving the system or breaking out of their programming, then she realized that it would make her sound like a protagonist from a crappy cyberpunk movie, and she probably wasn't cool enough to pull it off.

Instead, she held the gauze tighter to her nose and left the bloodstains sitting there on the floor, reveling in the fact that for once she didn't have to clean it up. Maybe she was going straight into an organ harvesting ring or a murderous cult, but maybe this small victory, this ability to just walk away from this place, was worth it.

[tipsycad147]

Violets Are Blue: The Folklore Of February’s Birth Flower

GrannyMoon posted: " Violets Are Blue: The Folklore Of February’s Birth Flower February 16, 2019 by Icy Sedgwick   As we’re still in the latter half of February, it seemed only right to look at the folklore of violets! This pretty little purple plant is the birth flower"

Also known as wild pansy, call me to you, kiss me at the garden gate (among many, many others), violets have some very sweet stories and superstitions behind them. Unlike the poisonous plants I usually feature, these plants are a largely positive woodland fixture.

So come with me and let’s explore the folklore of violets! As ever, hit play below if you’d rather listen. Or scroll past the player and let’s get into the post.

Origin Myths

According to Roman myth, Venus got into an argument with her son, Cupid. She demanded to know who he found more beautiful – herself, or a group of girls. We won’t even go into how inappropriate that is.

Cupid chose the girls and Venus apparently grew so angry that she beat the girls until they were blue. They turned into violets afterwards. This connection with the goddess of love made them a regular fixture in love potions.

Yet they’re also associated with modesty. When Apollo pursued one of Diana’s nymph friends, Diana turned her into a violet to protect her virtue.

In Greek mythology, Persephone was apparently picking violets when Hades kidnapped her to live in the underworld. Violets were also the emblem of Athens. In legend, the city’s founder, Ion, met water nymphs on the way to Attica. They presented him with violets to show their favour. Violets apparently sprang up wherever Orpheus laid his lyre (Nahmad 1994: 21).

Orpheus and Eurydice by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

(1875) [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons

Elsewhere, Zeus fell in love with a nymph, Io. Fearing his wife Hera’s wrath, he turned Io into a white heifer. Naturally Io wasn’t overly pleased with this turn of events and she cried at having to eat coarse grass. Zeus turned her tears into violets for her to eat. Some think this is why the Athenians favoured the violet so much.

The Romans and Greeks also associated these beautiful flowers with funerals. They often covered children’s graves since they represented modesty. Or you’d find the flowers scattered near tombs.

Christian Art

Niall Mac Coitir sees a Biblical connection since the flowers “were said to have sprung from tears shed by Adam after his banishment from the Garden of Eden” (2015: 219). Some also believe violets bloomed when the angel Gabriel told Mary she was pregnant. At the point when she said “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord”, the violet blossomed. Some still call it Our Lady’s Modesty as a result. The violet often represents Mary’s humility in Christian art.

Another tale recalls the violet was white up until the crucifixion. At this point, they turned purple to show their support for Mary in her mourning. In the Middle Ages, people believed violets stood upright until the crucifixion, but they bowed their heads in the shadow of the cross. Niall Mac Coitir notes some think violets shyly turned away when the infant Jesus passed them, which helps explain the phrase ‘shrinking violet’ (2015: 219).

Violets and the Heart

One of the many nicknames for violets is ‘heart’s ease’.

Its heart-shaped leaves indicated that it should be used to treat heart disease. This comes from the same branch of medicine that believed walnuts could cure brain-related issues because they look like brains. Or lungwort can cure lung problems because the leaves look like diseased lungs.

Pulmonaria aka Lungwort © Icy Sedgwick

Yet violets also appeared as an aphrodisiac, possibly due to the Venus connection. Steeping violet flowers in hot water made a form of tea that apparently helped with heartbreak. It contains salicylic acid so it does make a decent painkiller. Ancient Britons also used it in beauty lotions and salves.

They’re used in love magic, often worn as an amulet to increase your love chances. Witchipedia recommends combining violets with lavender for a bumper effect.

The Napoleon Connection

Napoleon took a special interest in the violet and gave them to his wife, Josephine. They became his personal emblem and while on Elba in exile, he told his friends he’d return when the violets bloomed in the spring.

They used the violet as a means of determining who knew about the conspiracy. If you were asked “Do you like violets?” and you said yes or no, you revealed that you knew nothing of his plot to return. If you said “Eh bien”, it meant you were loyal to Napoleon’s cause.

When he re-entered Paris in 1815, admirers threw violets across his path. Margaret Baker explains that “[a]fter Waterloo the wearing of violets was deemed seditious” (2011: 155).

Superstitions about the Violet

If you dream of violets, it means you’ll soon receive a fortune. Some think it means you’ll marry someone younger than you. And you should carry violets to ward off evil spirits.

Cora Linn Daniels and C. M. Stevans note that it was a custom in rural Germany to put violet flowers on the bridal bed and the cradle of baby girls. In Thuringia, it repelled the dark arts (2003 [1903]: 859). Mac Coitir points out that both the ancient Greeks and Gauls used the flowers on the bridal bed because it represented virginity (2015: 219).

Give them to a woman to give her good luck. Wear a violet wreath around your head to avoid dizziness. But if violets bloom during the autumn, an epidemic will follow.

Blue violets mean “I’ll always be true”. White violets mean you want to “take a chance on happiness”. Yellow violets mean modesty. In floriography, they mean faithfulness.

White-and-purple form of Viola sororia by Hoodedwarbler12 (Own work) [CC BY 3.0] via Wikimedia Commons

Plantlife.org note the weird legend “that you can only smell violet flowers once”. It’s not true, but ionine, a compound in its scent, can deaden smell receptors. It turns off the ability to smell the flower for short periods of time.

Romans thought drinking wine made from violet blossoms would stop them getting drunk. But they wore wreaths of violet flowers the morning after to alleviate hangovers.

These shy little flowers, alongside snowdrops, make a wonderful addition to British woodlands. If you’d like to grow your own violets, The Guardian has a helpful guide.

Do you know any other violet folklore? Let me know below!

References

Baker, Margaret (2011), Discovering the Folklore of Plants, 3rd ed. Oxford: Shire Classics (aff link). Daniels, Cora Linn and C. M. Stevans (eds) (2003 [1903]), Encyclopaedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World: Volume 2, Honolulu: University Press of the Pacific. Mac Coitir, Niall (2015), Ireland’s Wild Plants – Myths, Legends & Folklore, Cork: Collins Press. Nahmad, Claire (1994), Garden Spells: The Magic of Herbs, Trees and Flowers, London: Pavilion Books (aff link).

GrannyMoon | February 21, 2019 at 1:51 pm | Categories: Book of Shadows, Flowers and Other Plants, Folklore, Herbs, Myth, Pagan | URL: https://wp.me/pVaDN-4GM

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