#sa vienna

[wien1983]

Mittwoch, 5.10.1983

Um halb acht aufgestanden, habe in der Nacht geträumt von einem ganz liebevollen Mann und seiner Freundin, sie haben bei mir übernachtet, wir sind über eine monumentale Treppe in meine Wohnung gekommen, alles war erleuchtet, sie haben mit mir gesprochen, waren sehr freundlich, aber ich kann mich an sonst nichts erinnern. Einmal fragte mich die Frau, ob sie bei mir übernachten könne, pennen hat sie gesagt so wie Reinhild Strauß. Ich habe Ja gesagt und dass er auch hier übernachten dürfe, weil ich drei Betten hätte. Er wollte aber trotzdem nicht.

Um zehn Uhr vormittags zu Magister Souy, dieses Mal war er sehr freundlich, hat mich wegen Orthoépie ausgefragt und mir geraten, mich für F4 anzumelden, weil mir F3 wahrscheinlich angerechnet werde oder wenn F3 nicht, dann F4. Das verstehe ich jetzt nicht mehr, aber egal. Wieder zur TIROLER SPARKASSE, mein Geld ist gekommen, bin voll der Angst gewesen, den neuen FALTER gekauft, ein französisches Landbrot, ein französisches Buch von Jean-Louis Barrault, das habe ich immer noch, zwei Platten von THROBBING GRISTLE.

Nach Hause, die Platten angehört, Brot gegessen, den FALTER gelesen. Dann bin ich zur Schönbrunner Straße einkaufen gegangen, die Taschen waren viel zu schwer, weil ich so viele Säfte gekauft habe für meinen ewigen Durst. Bin gegen einen Holzbalken gestoßen, der plötzlich mitten auf der Grünbergstraße gestanden ist, habe jetzt einen Schnitt auf der Schläfe, das schaut sehr schön aus.

Bohnen und Backfisch gekocht, einen Brief geschrieben. Gegen Abend bin ich zum Amerlinghaus gefahren, weil da das THEATER BRETT sein hätte sollen, war aber nicht, weil niemand plakatiert hatte. Zorn von Ludvík Kavín. Bin dann ins Starkino, DIE GESCHICHTE DER NANA S. ein sehr trauriger Film, ein erschreckender Film. Der Punk war heute sehr freundlich, habe ihn gefragt wegen Artaud, er wusste es nicht. Habe ihm erklärt, dass in NANA S. ein Ausschnitt aus Dreyers Jeanne d'Arc zu sehen sei und eben auch Artaud. Er hat das gar nicht gewusst, wahrscheinlich interessiert es ihn auch nicht. Als Artaud dann wirklich erschien, war es totenstill im Saal, alle hielten den Atem an, bis er nicht mehr zu sehen war.

Nach dem Film ging ich spazieren, habe im Café Landtmann einen Eiskaffee getrunken und in meinem ARTAUD Buch gelesen, das ich überallhin mitnehme als Talisman. In diesem Café ist es wirklich schön und fein, Ingeborg Bachmann war immer dort. Um halb zwölf mit der U-Bahn nach Hause. Konnte logischerweise nicht schlafen nach diesem starken Kaffee, habe FUNERAL IN BERLIN von Throbbing Gristle noch einmal angehört, dann bei offenem Fenster im Bett gedöst, an Claudius gedacht. Bin immer wieder aufgewacht.

[konigsblog]

TW: RAPE/SA. MDNI 18+

Creep!Rapist!König who upskirts you, only to then threaten to leak the photos he'd sneakily captured of your bare cunt. You don't want these photos leaked, do you? He didn't think so. Follow him back to his apartment in Vienna and let him relieve himself despite the way you wail out in agony at the sheer size of König's thick and meaty cock, pleading for mercy as his ruthless and merciless pace quickly intensifies.

Allow him to use your tight, spongy cunny for his own sick and depraved form of satisfaction and pleasure, little mouse.

[yomersapiens]

tutto sta diventando molto bianco, sono uscito per andare al supermercato vicino casa, quello dove si paga poco ma poco poco, là ci vado non solo per risparmiare ma pure perché ci lavora un cassiere gentilissimo che ha sempre voglia di parlare ed è sempre di buon umore, una cosa rarissima qua a Vienna, che un estraneo abbia voglia di fare conversazione e ti sorrida, così mi metto in fila alla sua cassa pronto a farmi una bella dose di cordialità, lo saluto, mi chiede come sto, gli dico dai potrebbe andare meglio, mi chiede cosa mi faccio per cena, gli dico che non lo so ma che ho fame, gli chiedo se lui mangia mentre lavora e là sotto alla cassa nasconde qualche snack, mi dice che lui non mangia, lui beve solo redbull, mi dice di provare a indovinare quante redbull si beve in un giorno, io sparo e dico boh tre? lui ride e tutto orgoglioso mi fa: quindici! ma come cazzo fai a bere quindici redbull in un giorno ma tu stai male, mi dice che anche il dottore gli ha detto di stare attento e di bere acqua, cioè questo non è umano, questo qua è praticamente una particella di uranio impazzita seduta in un discount, aggiunge che lui berrebbe anche un po' di acqua ma solo se fosse acqua alla redbull, boh questo mi sa che se lo sfioro esplode, oppure decolla tipo razzo e raggiunge un altro pianeta, vedendo che ero piuttosto frastornato dalla sua risposta decide di rassicurarmi dicendo che ogni tanto, per allegerire tutte le redbull, beve anche una cocacola, io lo saluto per l'ultima volta perché mi sa che se torno tra una settimana trovo solo un mucchio di polvere molliccia, peccato mi stava simpatico, ma che cazzo hanno di sbagliato i viennesi, ah, per scrupolo, ovviamente gli ho chiesto se almeno bevesse redbull senza zucchero, ovvio che no mi ha risposto, cioè stupido io che vado anche a chiedere, questo vuole morire, probabilmente detonare e portarsi dietro tutti i clienti del supermercato e poi toccherà a me andare al tg e parlare e dire che era un tizio tanto in gamba, cordiale, salutava sempre, boh ma datti alla coca come tutti, giuro sono messo così male da capire più quella che la redbull.

[icecreamwithjackdaniels]

Johann Baptist Drechsler (Austrian, 1756–1811), "Large Floral Still Life with Birds" (detail), 1799.

Photo: Johannes Stoll, © Belvedere, Vienna. CC BY-SA 4.0.

[sednonamoris]

vienna waits for you

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: After a one-off meeting with a young Lieutenant Price, you assume you'll never meet again. A mission in Vienna proves you wrong.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, description of knife wounds, lots of blood, strong language, excessive dog puns, pre-relationship, pre-slowburn

Word count: 3,027

A/N: A little prequel action for hellhound (cross-posted to AO3)!! Thank you thank you thank you to the people who love this series as much as I do - your enthusiasm and joy has written this series just as much as I have 🩷

—

Ever since Belfast they’ve called you Hound.

Ever since Price, really. Hellhound, he had said, but it got shortened quick enough. One less syllable to trip through as they tease you.

Dog’s dinner again, eh, Hound? in the mess hall. 

Well sure, every dog has its day, when you make top marks in training.

Pretty as a speckled pup, you are, cooed mockingly on a rare night spent out of fatigues drinking with the lads just off base.

One of the newer recruits even tried whistling at you during a sparring match. He ended up in the med bay for that one, while you were reprimanded by Command yet again. 

In the dog house, your squadmates titter as you march out of your captain’s office with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and anger itching beneath your skin.

The teasing is fine. You like it, even, making your fair share of awful puns just to get a laugh out of the boys. What you can’t shake is the feeling of discontent with your superior officers. You joined up with the Irish Armed Forces at eighteen to do something. When they sent you up the ranks to the ARW just a few years later it was supposed to matter more. Save the good guys when you could, take down the bad ones when you couldn’t. ACTION had been promised by every recruitment poster in big bold letters. And yet, it seems like every time you take some all they do is give out to you.

You’re not good for much more than taking orders and pulling triggers, you know, but still it feels like something’s missing. Like you could do more if they’d just let you.

— 

Weeks later you get your chance: another team-up with the SAS. When it’s announced to the regiment you’re the first one geared up and ready to go.

For a silly, self-indulgent moment you let yourself wonder if Lieutenant Price will be there, too.

—

Between the SAS and ARW, a burgeoning terror cell has been tracked to Vienna. It’s being run by Wesley Martin, an English expat coming off a dishonourable discharge from MI6. Rather than fading quietly into obscurity, he’s taken the opportunity to sell out his country’s secrets and incite insurrection not just against them, but most of Europe as well. He staged an attack on Irish soil months ago, but the trail had gone cold - until now. England was the one to find him again, and Austria’s task force has offered its support, working out negotiations between the three nations as to who gets to make the arrest and on exactly what counts and which soil he will be tried. If the whispers up the chain of command are true, Ireland gets dibs on cuffing him. 

But that’s all above your pay grade. You’d just like to nab the prick.

When your boots hit the tarmac you have a stretch and breathe deep. It was a cramped plane ride with your squadmates. Jacks had snored on your shoulder the whole way, and Murph wouldn’t shut up about his latest shag, who apparently gave him quite a memorable experience in a pub stall over leave. He’d spared no detail. Lieutenant Doyle, of course, was the one who kept egging him on; even a glare from Captain Guiney hadn’t been enough to stop him from asking what color her knickers were. He produced a rather spectacular lacy red thong from one of his pockets in answer. 

Chatter cuts as you make your way over to where the SAS team stands in formation. 

“Pint short as usual, Guinness,” Captain MacMillan’s thick brogue snarks. “You’re late.” 

“They are early,” a less amused Austrian woman corrects. Anna Ebner, if it’s the same person who coordinated and shared all the intel reports.

“Only by Paddy standards, which is to say none at all.”

Ebner rolls her eyes. 

“Je-sus,” Guiney says in greeting, “how’d I get stuck working with you cunts?” His wide grin and open arms counteract the words. 

A series of warm handshakes are exchanged, but then it’s right to business.

 Ebner informs the group that Austria has opted to sideline its men with the promise of support only if things go very, very wrong. They’ll be on comms for the whole operation. That leaves two mixed-company teams to infiltrate the safehouse apartment; one from the front and one from the back. Once the ground floor is secured, Alpha Team will head upstairs while Bravo covers the cellar and makes sure no one gets in or out of the building. 

Team assignments are handed out with efficiency before everyone piles into the vans. Most of your squadron ends up with Alpha, headed by Guiney. You and Jacks are the only ARW soldiers on Bravo, which will be led by MacMillan and his lieutenant. 

“Looks like we’re top dogs today, Hound,” Murph crows, elbowing you in the ribs before heading over to join the others with Alpha.

You grin and flip him off while Jacks tells the lot of them to go fuck themselves, and turn to find Lieutenant John Price looking right at you. Your eyes go wide and your spine snaps straight.

“Hound, is it?” Barely-there amusement curls at the edge of his mouth.

“It is, yeah.” There should probably be a sir attached to that, but you’re too caught up in the starstruck realization that he remembers you to care.

It’s a stroke of luck that he doesn’t seem to mind. Just hums at the back of his throat with a twinkle in his eye before nodding his head toward the van behind him. “With me.”

—

It’s tight quarters inside the vans, so many soldiers pressed knee to knee. Price is seated across from you. At your side, Jacks is shooting shit with the other Brits in your temporary squad. Already he’s insulted the Queen - your favourite pastime, usually - but you ignore him in favor of quietly observing Price, who in turn is quietly observing you. 

He hasn’t changed much in the months since your last meeting.

His face is clean-shaven with an ever-present threat of stubble. The rest of his hair is tucked beneath a dark beanie that either hides a buzz cut or a seriously impressive cowlick - it’s hard to say which would suit him more. His broad frame fills his tactical suit, and the stars in your eyes make him seem that much broader. But it’s his eyes that strike you the most. Clear-cut, no-nonsense blue that sees straight to the heart of you.

What has he found there, you wonder?

In Price it feels like you’ve found the answer to a question that’s been difficult to put to words. He’s so sure. Sure of himself, of his team, of his mission. Every doubt you house is a certainty in him - it’s no wonder they’ve already named him a lieutenant while you can barely keep your rank as sergeant. 

“They didn’t court marshal you, then,” he breaches the silence between you.  

“Not for lack of trying.” Your smile is crooked and self-deprecating. “I’m fairly certain ‘loose cannon’ is at the top of my file in red ink.” 

He huffs a laugh. “Better than ‘temper management issues’.”

“Oh, please,” you say. “Yours has got to be something like ‘hero’ or ‘patriot’. Maybe ‘golden boy’. I bet the recruitment campaigns can’t get enough of you.” 

“They tried to get me to pose for a commercial,” he admits.

“Yeah?”

“Told them to sod off.”

You cackle. “Too right!” 

The rest of the van ride is spent trading quips back and forth, bantering like you’ve known each other for ages and not just from a one-off meeting months ago. In the time that’s lapsed between then and now you’ve imagined working beside him plenty— more than you should have, being honest. It should be impossible for the man to live up to the myth you’ve manufactured in your mind.

Somehow he exceeds it. 

Somehow you’re not surprised.

—

The muffled sound of Bravo team breaching the cellar door is the only thing that breaks the midnight silence of Vienna’s neighborhoods. Combat boots creak down wooden steps, guns at the ready and night vision gear engaged. Captain Macmillan leads the charge, sweeping the space with practiced authority. 

“Clear,” he announces. His voice is too-loud and rough in the cramped space. 

Though no targets are on this level, a wealth of information seems to be. There’s not an ounce of modern technology to be seen, but every inch of unfinished wall is covered in the paper trail three respective countries have been chasing in vain for months. 

“Seems like your man is starting to lose the plot, eh?” Jacks says with his crooked smile, gesturing to documents pinned on corkboards and clipped across strings that hang from the low ceilings. 

Your mouth snaps shut on your reply at MacMillan’s warning to keep quiet, but disagreement is plain across your features. Martin is paranoid, certainly, but you wouldn’t call him crazy. Though this organization system is beyond you, it makes sense in theory; Who better than a former MI6 operative can appreciate how insecure cyber storage is, even with encryptions in place? 

Paper maps cover one of the walls wholly, marked up in unfamiliar code you’re sure some poor interns will have a field day with. Whatever his next moves are, they must be hidden there. Many of the hanging sheets read like weapons orders, others like mercenary pay stubs, all in a myriad of languages. Everything else is too much text to be anything but a manifesto. You snag one of the sheets for yourself and read a few cursory lines of down with the status quo and death to the Other - nothing that hasn’t been done before.

With a nod from his captain, Price starts barking orders. Everything must be taken down and packed away; this kind of evidence is every operation’s dream. You all set about the work as quietly as you can in case things still aren’t clear inside. MacMillan radios Guiney for a sitrep off to the side before he joins in. 

In all of a second it isn’t necessary.

Shouting sounds from inside, then gunfire.

You hear the tinkling of broken glass and the impact of a body hitting the ground and the thunk, thunk of a flashbang falling down cellar stairs before it goes off. Harsh, blinding white overwhelms your senses and forces your eyes to close in a painful squeeze. There’s a ringing in your ears that feels like it’s coming from everywhere. Someone screams. You tear your night vision gear off in a blind panic and blink sightlessly at the chaos.

Fuck.

Fuck!

There’s a dark shape at the foot of the stairwell going up, and before you register what your body is doing you can feel yourself lurch after them. You’re not even sure if you have your gun.

You stagger outside to see Price giving chase to someone who can only be Wesley Martin - him or one of his close associates. Doesn’t matter now. You join in hot pursuit, the thick soles of your boots pounding across Vienna’s pavement. Your lungs burn and your vision is still blurred but you can’t afford to slow down. Price is still several metres ahead. 

Without breaking stride he takes aim with his gun and nails Martin squarely in the back. The crack of the shot echoes sharp in the night and lays him flat out in the street. Price continues his sprint, only slowing a few steps out from the body.

Except it isn’t just a body; he’s still alive. You see him move - he must be wearing kevlar - but before you can shout a warning he whips his body around and takes Price out at the legs. Moonlight flashes off the wicked threat of his unsheathed knife. He shoves the blade up hard into Price’s ribs and slashes a wide arc through his belly. You swear it’s happening in slow motion, like those nightmares where you run and run and run but your legs won’t move.

“Get off him, you bastard!” you shout. Martin’s head turns to see you come barrelling at him. He smiles. The knife drips blood. Price gasps and stumbles backward where he’s shoved aside, fingers clutching desperately at the wound. 

Your hands feel for the familiar weight of your gun only to find it gone. You must have lost it in the confusion. Martin could easily kill Price now - it’s what you would do, if the situation was reversed - but instead he takes your momentary distraction as a chance to take off again.

It’s his mistake. 

You’re close enough and determined enough now that it takes only a few strides to overtake him, and while you don’t have your gun you sure as shit have a knife. The collision happens all at once and in fragments. Your body against his. Your knife in his neck. The scalding spray of blood as you pull it out. The sluice of flesh as you drive it back in. You’re not sure when you stop stabbing, but it’s long after he stops twitching.

His body is limp and strange beneath you. You roll off and stagger to your feet only to retch in the street beside it. Bile bites the back of your throat and you wipe at your mouth with a grimace. Your hands are shaking. Command is going to fucking kill you.

Sirens sound in the distance, now, but the only thing that breaks your thousand yard stare from the man you just killed is the sound of Price’s labored breathing a few metres away. 

You blink and all of the sudden you’re knelt in front of him. It takes a moment for him to register that you’ve come back; his eyes stare unseeing, clouded with pain.

“You killed ‘im,” he slurs. “K-I-bloody-A.” 

“That’s not important right now,” you snap. “Focus on staying alive. One breath at a time, yeah?” You move his hands from the wound to assess the situation and nearly retch again. Martin stabbed clean through the kevlar, and now his guts are threatening to spill into the street. “Did you radio anyone?” 

He just blinks up at you, dumb with shock and bloodloss. 

You curse.

With one hand you fish around for the meager med supplies you keep on you, and with the other you call in for help. The radio is sticky with blood. You’re not sure whose. Price has gone so pale. Blood leaks at the corner of his mouth. His teeth are stained red. 

You’re only a block over from whatever remains of your squadron but it might as well be miles. They say they’re on the way, but there are so many wounded already. Looking at Price, you know it won’t be fast enough, anyway. You only have a disinfectant wipe, a needle, and surgical thread. Sutures have never been your strong suit, but if it’s not you and it’s not here and now then it’s lights out. You’ll just have to make do.

“No bloody dying,” you warn. “This is gonna hurt.” 

You lay Price back carefully, carefully, and smear the alcohol wipe around the edge of the wound. It stings - it must - but he only sucks a sharp breath in without complain. Pinching the skin together, hands slick with blood that isn’t yours, you poise the needle over him.

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. 

He stares up at you with the most lucidity he’s managed since being stabbed. Clear-cut. No-nonsense. So very blue. “Ready.”

—

Your stitch job is crooked and atrocious, but the hospital staff inform you later that it saves his life.

“Be a hell of a scar,” Price laughs from the sterile white of his hospital bed. The sound wheezes out of him. You can tell it hurts, but he seems in good spirits.

So good, in fact, that he’s managed once again to talk you out of a court marshal. He didn’t let up until he’d convinced Command that Wesley Martin had to be put down. That there was no salvaging the mission otherwise and that your actions saved not just his life, but the lives of many. Once those interns deciphered the rest of his plans they were quick to agree. Now you’re all done up in your service dress for an award ceremony later this afternoon. You wanted Price there, but the hospital staff wouldn’t release him from their clutches. A visit just before will have to suffice.

“Something to remember me by,” you say. 

There’s something fond and familiar in his eyes that makes your throat hurt. “I would be hard-pressed to forget someone like you, Hound.”  

“Running with the big dogs, now,” you grin. He rolls his eyes at the pun. “Next time I kill a target I’m not supposed to I bet they promote me.” 

“I don’t doubt it. You do good work.”

“So do you, Lieutenant.”

There’s more you want to say, questions you want to ask him, but they all die in your throat the longer you look at him lying there. Even battered and beaten he’s still so sure. Certainty stinging in the creases of his eyes. Sunshine slatted past hospital window blinds. Dated rock music filtering grainy through the radio one of his lads must’ve brought in. Half-wilted flowers at his bedside. Sitting upright in an uncomfortable bed wrapped in starchy white sheets he is every inch the soldier you’ll never be.

“If you’re ever in England again…” he starts. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised he’s offering, but you are. A delighted smile lights your face. 

“I’m never in England if I can help it,” you say honestly. He laughs. “But give us a call if you hop the channel, yeah?”

“I will do,” he says.

It’s silly to think you’ll actually meet again. Truly, why would you? But it feels like he means it. Like you’re dogs of war, set on intersecting paths to hell.

Somehow, some way, the two of you are always going to find each other.

Somehow, some way, you don’t think you mind.

[weimarhaus]

Max Oppenheimer, 1 July 1885, Vienna, Austria-Hungary 19 May 1954, New York City, Austrian painter

From 1911 to 1915 Oppenheimer was active in Berlin, incorporating Cubist elements into his painting and collaborating on the magazine "Die Aktion". During his stay in Switzerland (1915-1925) he began his exploration of music (Music and Painting, 1919; Portraits of Musicians).

Afterwards back in Berlin, he returned to Vienna in 1931. One year later, in the wave of persecution following the Reichstag fire, his work became the victim of a defamation campaign by the SA. Max Oppenheimer fled to Switzerland where he found shelter with Chiel Weissmann and then emigrated to the USA.

Weintraub's Syncopators, 1927

[justaboymadeofhoneyandglass]

Types of weird kids my paras were:

Evan: autism and adhd, his special interests was bugs and animals of all kinds, knew wayyy too much about their anatomy and death, and also about functions and stuff hes just so fascinated by it

Regulus: autism and adhd, his special interests were like ships that sunk for different reasons and also cold cases, but never like murder or SA or anything, specifically water related cold cases, mostly stuff like people disappearing in the ocean or ships disappearing

Vienna: Adhd and maybe autism, she was rlly obsessed with the ocean as a kid too (still is tbh) but in a different way, she wanted to know everything, all the animals, present and past, how the ecosystems worked, how some animals were predators and others were prey, a lot to do with animals

Harley: Adhd/maybe autism, was obsessed with two things, cars, and fire. Cars were fine, people let her talk, it was a bit odd to some cus she's a girl but the fire thing was what rlly weirded people out, Harley knew exactly what damage fire did to the body, to different parts, how you could handle it safely but also how different uses of fire and heat hurt people (for example heating up metals and putting them in contact with the skin or heating up various stuff or changing the fire by adding substances etc)

I have more but I gotta think about them more so this is it for now lol

@aesthetic-writer18

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror&The Devil part 12

AesopSharpxMC (Angst, hints of fluff, TAROT READING disclamer: I'm a witch and this is my own interpretation for the fic purposes)

"Is it nice to steal, huh, young lady?" grumbled Aesop, now in his own form, dabbing Sidó's scraped knee with Wiggenweld Potion, wiping the wound with a clean cotton bud. He wasn't concerned that the girl didn't understand English; his stern expression served as a universal language.

At the beginning she was quite scared that some force incomprehensible to her had brought her back near the orphanage. Now she averted her gaze in offense, lightning bolts striking from her eyes. She didn't even flinch, although the potion must have stung her- brave, angry little fluff. Morana struggled to contain her laughter. She and the girl were indeed similar... Perhaps not in appearance, but they shared a similar spirit.

"Hmm, aj ja som chodila do tohto sirotinca a ako ty som utiekla." (Hmm, I used to go to that orphanage too, and like you, I escaped) Morana began timidly, poking her side with her finger, which immediately elicited giggles, and she gave girl a piece of smoked sausage to eat.

"Naozaj?" (Really?) she asked incredulously and eagerly began devouring the food.

"Áno. Už dávno som stratil rodinu, hľadám ju." (Yes. I lost my family a long time ago, and I've been looking for them) Morana replied, leaning against the low wall on which Aesop sat the three-year-old.

"Boli to tiež čarodejníci?" (Were they also wizards?) she asked.

"Neviem, možno." (I don't know, maybe)

Sidó pondered, and after a moment, with her mouth full, she replied, "Pretože tu žije baba yaga, možno je to tvoja mama." (Because there's a Baba Yaga living here, maybe she's your mom.)

"Ako to?" (How so?)

"Ach, v ruinách hradu. Vraj všetko vie a vidí budúcnosť." (Oh, in the castle ruins. They say she knows and sees everything about the future.)

"Budúcnost..." (The future...) Morana immediately thought of the visions she had... maybe they weren't the result of Ancient Magic, but something she inherited.

"Ako sa voláš?" (What's your name?) she asked, reaching out her hand, greasy from sausage, towards Morana's scar, which made Aesop chuckle and silently say to Morana (when her face was smudged in grease she tried to ged rid off with her sleeve), "You deserve it."

"Morana, a toto je Ezop." (Morana, and this is Aesop.)

"Mám ťa rád." (I like you) she said immediately and added, "Môžem ísť s tebou?" (Can I go with you?)

The seemingly innocent question tugged at Morana's heart. The girl's eyes were full of hope that they would indeed take her with them, wherever that might be, even though she hardly knew them. She preferred to leave with strangers than to stay where she was.

The woman's mind suddenly found itself in Vienna, several years ago.

She sat covered in hops, cowering, trembling upon hearing someone's footsteps, and when someone's hand brushed aside the cones, she saw the face of an older man. He looked at her with surprise, and the kindly gleam in his eyes made her trust him.

"Shhh, calm down, little one. Don't be afraid of me," he said gently and sat her on a barrel. She was missing a shoe, which she had lost somewhere. She didn't understand his words then, but the tone of his voice was very soft and calmed her. He pulled out a checkered handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her dirty face. "Where is (he pointed to Morana) mama... hmmm mutter?"

Morana shook her head, indicating that she was an orphan.

Mr. Dimm scratched his head, surprised by the whole situation. Thoughts raced through his head; he looked into her crystal blue eyes, big and sad, knowing that this child was a blessing from heaven. Before him sat a beautiful girl, the long-awaited child they had dreamed of with Lyra for years.

As soon as they heard footsteps and voices, Morana grabbed his big hand and hid behind him. At that moment, he completely fell for her. Someone wanted to harm her? Over his dead body. He lifted her up and wiped her tears away. For a few moments, they looked into each other's eyes, their fates intertwined.

...Sidó looked at Morana and Aesop alternately, waiting for an answer.

"What did she ask?"

"She wants to go with us."

"Oh..." Aesop let out, also touched by the question, and began to think feverishly. "Well... it's not really a good idea... Where would she live? With whom? You... You're studying, you have plans for the future, and I... I'm old and alone... I work a lot... It wouldn't work out..." he started, as if for a moment, he really considered the idea. Morana sadly shook her head; it didn't make sense. A three-year-old wasn't a puppy to "hang around" with them... And even a puppy should have better care. It was out of the question!

Morana picked her up without a word, and the three of them started silently toward the orphanage. Sidó wet the woman's shoulder with tears, intertwining her hands in her hair, which she clung to tightly, causing Morana's heart to ache. Aesop, following them, saw the sad look in the girl's eyes and did everything not to look at her, knowing that in a moment, he would completely fall apart. Just before the orphanage gate, he dampened a tissue with a few drops of a potion known only to him, to pretend to wipe her nose and put her into a blissful sleep, so that she wouldn't experience the parting.

They handed the sleeping Sidó over to the hands of sister Illuminata, Aesop took care of it with one of the spells, so that the nun would forget that she had seen them and that Sidó had escaped.

"Ugh, how much I'd give for a glass of whiskey... Or three," he muttered as they walked away from the gate and gently stroked Morana's shoulder, who walked beside him in silence, with her head down. "What's on your mind?"

"Ehhhhh..." she grumbled. "I feel terrible. I want to cry. I've had enough."

"Hmm... We can always visit her from time to time, support her financially in her future education. Ask if anyone among our friends would like to adopt her... Does that thought comfort you at least a little?"

"Maaaaaybe," she muttered, then added. "It's good that you're down-to-earth. Your ideas always comfort me..."

Aesop smiled; Morana's words stroked his ego and made it purr.

"She's safe, she has food, nothing's happening to her. Even though that nun, whatever her name is, the Illuminata sister, is terrible, she won't harm her, she takes care of the children - that's what my intuition says, although, well, I'll admit, those big dark eyes made me ready to run away with her for a moment." he laughed. "My next brilliant idea is: let's get back to why we came here... I heard her mention something about Baba Yaga, that's a Slavic term for a witch, isn't it? I saw that it caught your interest."

Morana nodded and sent him a smile.

"The ruins of the castle are nearby; according to Sidó, a witch lives in them who sees the future..."

"Mmmm," Aesop became interested. "Interesting... How far is it?"

"About 5-6 hours from here by foot, I recall those ruins from local legends... people said that they were haunted."

"I like such legends; you immediately know there's something to them. We'll find a carriage and set off!"

"I'm not sure if there are carriages going straight to the castle here..."

Aesop pulled out a tiny vial with a "DANGER" label from Madame Niffleur's bag, certainly not a Polyjuice, and his sly smile seemed very suspicious to Morana. "Did you say something? We're certainly not flying there on a broomstick. Madame Niffleur can be very persuasive."

The afternoon sun, although still scorching the skin, was slowly beginning to descend. Aesop and Mora struggled to climb the slope, from the top of which the ruins of the castle watched over the surrounding hills, resembling the sleeping dragon with its uneven, elongated shape and white scales. Bright, hewn blocks of limestone, from which the fortress was built, sparkled in the light and seamlessly merged with the base of massive rocks, tightly entwined with a tangle of weeds, bushes, and sharp thorns tugging at the wizards' clothes. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Aesop conceded to the ancient architects who chose this place as an observation point and a true bastion – the view of the hillside ocean was breathtaking, but back then it was crucial for military tactics, and the numerous caves hollowed out in the rocks at the beginning of time provided shelter and were perfect for securing food. A beautiful place surrounded by the history of thousands of people who lived before them, possibly even some of Morana's ancestors... He imagined Morana in a princess's attire, but not the kind a regular princess from books about knights would wear... no... He saw her as she gazed at the green hills with her blue eyes, a just, decisive, calm ruler, but incredibly dangerous to anyone who dared to appear with a foreign banner under her walls... Pearls intertwined in jet-black hair adorned her temples. Her attire? Not just any dress in pastel colors. A gown made of leather and black silk, very comfortable, not restricting movement; a sleek scabbard tightly fastened with a belt to which the best sword and dagger would be attached; wrapped in a cloak of bear fur... which she probably hunted herself... The thought amused him somewhat and sweetened the climb. Queen Morana, the ruler of Nitra. It sounded more than good, huh.

A solitary ruler? Would she have a king? Probably not. This thought amused him again, but after a moment, another, less pleasant thought arose. Many would vie for her hand. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but in his imagination, he saw a knight from a painting that hung in his room at Hogwarts, which resembled of him... Sir Sharp of... what exactly? Hmm, Hogwarts? Aranshire? It didn't matter... He dismounted from the white steed, striding proudly in shining armor amidst the pitifully tumbling bunch of youths writhing at the feet of Queen Morana... He bowed before her, and taking her delicate hand, he brushed her ring with his lips. She smiled, and her eyes sparkled, she lifted his chin, gazing deeply into his dark eyes...

He twisted his foot on a stone, and a bolt of pain pierced his knee. He cursed soundlessly, pushing through the bushes, unable to see a path trodden by deer. Morana walked a little ahead of him, easily navigating the path...

As a disabled person, he probably wouldn't survive long in those times... Most likely, he would buckle under the weight of the armor, become a laughingstock... Not only in the past, though. He lowered his gaze, feeling another wave of uncertainty and disgust towards himself wash over him. A man in the prime of his life, yet he had to be handled like a porcelain figurine, like an old man... Men like him don't dance with princesses, they hide in the shadows and quietly fade away...

"Aesop, everything okay?" Morana's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "You seem... gloomy... Maybe you'd like a break?"

Aesop cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine... It's very beautiful here, I got lost in thought... Shh!" He suddenly became cautious, as his instinct told him they weren't alone. He stopped, scanning the surroundings; they were practically at the gate. Something moved near it, a shadow. Morana spotted it too. Both exchanged knowing glances and discreetly prepared their wands.

The shadow stood still, leaning against the stone wall. An old woman in a cloak with a hood casting a shadow over the upper part of her face, leaning on a staff. She smiled mysteriously, and in the pale sunlight, her teeth gleamed with gold and silver, tufts of completely white hair grazed her wrinkled tan face. Aesop and Morana cautiously approached her and greeted her uncertainly, their wands behind their back at the ready.

"I knew you would come," she said in English, her voice carrying a strong accent, but not the one people from these parts or any Slavs had. Something Italian, maybe Spanish...

"How do you know we speak English?" Morana asked, looking at her suspiciously.

"I know everything, dear..." the old woman whispered.

Aesop became wary. "You probably heard us from afar. These empty walls must echo sound well..." he interjected, squinting, scrutinizing the woman. She laughed.

"You guessed right. My knowledge comes from what I hear and see, and I listen very attentively and observe carefully, so I know... Come, it's a sin not to welcome guests, especially if they come on business..."

"Business?" Aesop bristled.

"For what other reason would you come here?" she shrugged, leading them along the long courtyard towards a hole in the wall, which was almost blocked by fallen doors. "The castle is haunted, terrible things happen here... That's what they say, so no one comes here without good reason. And so it is. No one visits me without a reason. Only on business."

Morana and Aesop looked at each other, perplexed, not knowing what was happening. With no choice, they followed the old woman through a winding corridor illuminated by candles. Along the walls, hanging from the ceilings, were bunches of dried plants and mushrooms emitting an incredibly intoxicating scent. Lavender, rosemary... there was plenty of that here... They finally reached a small cave or a room that was once a palace cellar. It was quite cozy; the ceiling and walls were covered with carpets, there were plenty of dried plants, trinkets, vials, and jars crowding the shelves, bowls with crushed seeds, ointments, crystals, bubbling distillation flasks in which all sorts of remedies were weighed... In the old royal fireplace, a fire was burning, and above it hung a cauldron with bubbling liquid. The old woman pointed to the table with a wave of her hand. Aesop and Morana took their seats opposite her.

"I came to..." Morana began, but the stranger immediately silenced her.

"Don't say anything, be silent, I will find out myself." she said pleasantly. "What the mouth says does not always speak the heart and mind... And I must see the truth, however... For every magic, it is right to make an offering first. Magic is a gift from the ancient gods, just as they were offered sacrifices, so every use of it, like meeting a friend, should start with a gift and end with gratitude..."

She pulled out a deck of cards from her pocket and began shuffling them. Aesop moved, surprised by her words, but in a fraction of a second, everything became clear to him. "Dammit, she's a Muggle witch." He rolled his eyes and immediately turned to Mora. "We're wasting time, she's a fraud. Tarot, crystals, ointments... Uh, quackery, trying to extort money." he muttered, glaring at the witch. Morana wasn't so sure about that, her intuition, on the other hand, suggested to her that whether a fraud or not, she might have some information about what happened to her family. She took out a coin and placed it on the table.

Before Aesop could protest, the coin disappeared into the witch's pocket, and two cards appeared on the table. One by Morana, the other by him. The woman smiled mysteriously.

"Payment accepted. My question is – who are you, strangers?" she reached for two more cards and laid them below. "What did your pasts bring?" She began shuffling. "And, since you seem to work together... oh!"

From the shuffled deck, only one card shot out and fell on the table, between Morana's and Aesop's line of cards.

"...How might this future unfold for both of you?" She finished, sliding the last card down, but leaving it between Morana's and Aesop's readings.

"Ugh," Sharp grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Well, wonderful, making a fool of myself, splendid..."

The witch silenced him and turned over his card.

THE MAGICIAN

Aesop's eyebrows twitched. Not that he believed her, no, not at all, she was just a simple fortune-teller, but the coincidence intrigued him somewhat.

"Oh yes... The Magician..." the witch began. "It's a card of someone who pursues knowledge, powerful, often invisible to many, which can lead to boasting... Hmmm, it's funny, you see?" She placed a finger on the drawing, and Aesop and Morana leaned in slightly to get a better look. "All the elements that make him up lie before him on the table, as if he's about to examine them, as if he's pulling them out of himself and trying to understand them somehow... He doesn't know what to do with them, they're ready, but unused... His wealth," she pointed to the coin, "the path he has taken," she indicated the staff, "the desires, feelings, and longings he carries within," she pointed to the cup, "and his mind, sharp and extraordinary," she pointed to the sword. "It's all right here before him, yet he separates it from himself, as if he doesn't want to accept it, seeking help from above, in magic, or some 'higher knowledge,' but the answers are literally before him, within reach. He seems lost, uncertain... Is he afraid to reach for them and use them? We'll soon see why, but first, I want to get to know you, young Lady..." She paused and turned to Morana. Meanwhile, Aesop stiffened, not liking how accurate the woman's words were.

Morana's card was swiftly revealed.

THE DEVIL

"Hmm, I didn't expect to see such a card for a young, beautiful lady... But looks can be deceiving. Power surpassing that of the Magician, even black magic! However, my instinct tells me it's just a symbol... A symbol of someone seeking freedom, because you see, Lucifer defied God himself to go his own way, but... I don't see freedom here, but rather enslavement... Something that binds you and won't let go, even though the nooses around the necks of the figures visible here are completely loose and could slip off at any moment, yet they don't escape... It seems to me that something that once helped you turned out to be your false friend... Not a person, no, no... Something you deeply believe in, something whispering all possible negative scenarios into your ear... Why is that? Hm... It's time to learn about your past, shall we? Let's start with the Magician, what made you be here today, in the company of this extraordinary woman, thousands of kilometers from home?" She turned over his next card, and Aesop's stomach churned. A bloodied figure lay on the ground, literally nailed to it with swords. He heard screams and noise in his head, for a fraction of a second, he saw Sholto's dead body lying face down in a pool of blood just like the figure on the card. He averted his gaze, trying not to look at it.

"I'm so sorry..." the witch said gently, seeing how the card panicked him and immediately flipped it over so he wouldn't have to look at it. "You've encountered terrible things, Magician... Blood, suffering, despair... Your own mind has failed you, you've made a mistake somewhere, one that cost you everything... This card speaks for itself and is worse than the Death card because you see, the Death card heralds rebirth, but this... emptiness, nothingness, which clings to you. So much evil has befallen you. However, this card pertains to your past... The future is ahead of you..." She gestured to the mysterious, single card in the middle. Her gaze fell on Morana, who was absorbed in every word she said. "And what befell you, Devil?"

The card was revealed, depicting a very idyllic scene of floating cups and a happy family looking at them, as at the rainbow. However, this idyll was upside down before Morana.

"You've lost your family," the witch concluded. "That's why you can't free yourself from the past, find a place for yourself, stability, and emotions, like water from these ten upside-down cups, spill over..." The old woman looked at the last card and smiled mysteriously, lifting it without showing them what was on it. "This card ripped itself out to you, but it's up to you whether you want to know what's on it, or, judging by what I've seen, it's not the purpose of your visit..." Morana wasn't too eager, and Aesop, even more so, as he had seen enough and wanted to leave.

"I understand." The woman shuffled all the cards back into the deck and rested her intertwined hands on the table. "Magician and Devil... How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for my family," Morana spoke softly. "Something happened in Nitra a years ago; suddenly I found myself in the forest one night with no memory... I'd like to find out what happened then... Maybe you remember something, or at least know someone who spoke of some strange phenomenon, I don't know... It happened on the night of January 1st to 2nd, 1875..."

Baba Yaga pondered for a moment.

"In Nitra? Hmm, not really, I's a dull place... Although, there was a fire in Jelenec at that time, I remember it well. People said the flames burst literally in a split second, as if it was the work of the devil himself, so I was summoned afterward because the neighbors were afraid, fearing it was black magic..." Morana flinched.

"Do you know where it was? What happened?"

"By the lake. I instructed them to sprinkle everything with holy water and bury it, mark it with a stone so that no one would build anything there. Hmm, it's strange, but no one could figure out who lived there, and we all know each other very well here, or at least I know everyone well. There were a few huts in that area. We looked for bodies, asked if anyone knew anything... in vain: we only found a few charred bones and buried them in that place..."

Morana felt a stab in her stomach. That was her home, she was sure of it. And her family was dead.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Aesop felt touched by the words of the Muggle woman, who had undoubtedly deduced many things about them by observing their reactions to the pathetic cards. It was a game, and she was barely observant and extremely intelligent. He was a real wizard.

"What magic school did you attend?" he asked rather curtly.

"Schools?" she laughed. "None, Magician. My mother taught me spells, her mother taught her based on the knowledge passed down from our mothers. These are old spells, not spectacular, they work slowly, but they are as powerful as yours... Yes, even though I'm old, I saw your wand, which is now barely sticking out from under your sleeve... Don't worry, it's nothing new to me; people like you also visit me. There are quite a few of them living in the area, those who returned from studies in France or somewhere in the north... They come to me for advice on many matters, especially when it's restless in the nearby graves..." The woman turned to Morana. "Go southeast; the lake is nearby. You'll see an empty space between the houses filled with stones. That's the place."

Morana, enveloped in the velvety rays of the setting sun, stood in silence, looking at the pile of bright stones in front of her and a quite large boulder laid on them. It was very quiet, peaceful, and the temperature had dropped thanks to the pleasant chill from the nearby lake, around which wild birds circled, mainly crows living nearby.

She felt strangely absent.

She had reached her home, where she wanted to be. Although she didn't know their names, her family lay buried under her feet; now she could visit this place, she knew where she came from. The puzzle was almost solved.

Well, she should be happy. Feel relieved, from finding her parents' grave, even though the perpetrator of their death could still be at large...

She should be happy.

She felt only confusion.

Anger that her life hadn't changed, that she couldn't call those nameless people "family." She didn't feel an influx of emotions associated with this area, she didn't feel "at home" here. She looked at the boulder and was basically indifferent to everything.

Aesop observed her from a distance, casting Revelio in a few places out of habit to find any clues. Too much time had passed, and Muggles or wizards had already erased all traces. It wasn't comforting at all. Something had been solved, but nothing had really been. Morana seemed even more depressed than before, which saddened him and that annoying fortune-teller, well, a Muggle witch made him sick. He had encountered such frauds mixing in the heads of Muggles in his life and didn't trust them for a penny, and now he calmly analyzed everything she said, making sure she just read their behavior and chose responses based on that...

He kicked a small stone with his healthy foot, annoyed, then took a deep breath and looked at Morana. He let her stand there as long as she needs; she needed time to sort things out in her head. He walked ahead, looking at the surrounding houses... he noticed freshly planted Chinese Chomping Cabbage in the gardens, some Dittany... There were indeed wizards living here. Morana's family was probably one of them, but someone literally wiped them out with an exceptionally strong and cunning spell. Soon Morana approached him.

"Let's go back," she whispered.

"Do you want to look around some more? Maybe ask someone?"

"No," she replied, staring at the ground.

"Do you have anything else to do in Vienna, or can we head straight back to the Highlands?"

"No, I've taken care of everything, orders will come next week straight to the brewery."

Seeing her sad expression, Aesop laid his hand on her shoulder. She flinched, as if awakened from a dream, and looked him in the eyes.

So much had happened in these few days.

"Butter beer?" he offered, smiling warmly and extending his forearm toward her. Morana sent him a hesitant smile. She looked at the boulder one last time and grasped his arm firmly, practically nestling into it. Aesop kept his promise, helping her find her parents, for which she was grateful... and she didn't know how to express it. She tried to say something, but the chaos in her mind completely prevented it.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking him straight in the eyes, and at the same moment, she gently squeezed his arm. Aesop felt her fingers clenching the fabric around his skin, causing it to sting and tremble, as if even his own skin was pleased with Mora's the closeness. He nodded slightly, humbly saying nothing. The investigation had come to an end for now.

For now.

There was a loud crack, and the two wizards disappeared, leaving the hills of Nitra far behind.

End of part 12, thanks for reading.

[operachristine]

Holiday Gifting Day 3

Day 3 of 5 features some Tanz der Vampire audios with Steve Barton as our lovely Count!

Steve Barton (Graf von Krolock), Cornelia Zenz (Sarah Chagal), Aris Sas (Alfred), Gernot Kranner (Professor Abronsius), Eva Maria Marold (Magda), James Sbano (Yone Chagal), Anne Welte (Rebecca Chagal), Nik Breidenbach (Herbert von Krolock), Torsten Flach (Koukol) October, 1997; Vienna || Notes: 'Uncut' version. From early in the show's run before any cuts were made.

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Steve Barton (Graf von Krolock), Lyn Liechty (alt Sarah Chagal), Aris Sas (Alfred), Gernot Kranner (Professor Abronsius), Eva Maria Marold (Magda), James Sbano (Yone Chagal), Anne Welte (Rebecca Chagal), Harald Tauber (Herbert von Krolock) 1998; Vienna Soundboard audio

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Steve Barton (Graf von Krolock), Marleen van der Loo (alt Sarah Chagal), Alex Melcher (alt Alfred), Gernot Kranner (Professor Abronsius), Jens Janke (Yone Chagal) September 20, 1998; Vienna Highlights

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Steve Barton (Graf von Krolock), Misha Kovar (alt Sarah Chagal), Alex Melcher (alt Alfred), Jens Janke (Professor Abronsius), Eva Maria Marold (Magda), Peter Farber (Yone Chagal), Harald Tauber (u/s Herbert von Krolock) January 16, 1999; Vienna

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Steve Barton (Graf von Krolock), Cornelia Zenz (Sarah Chagal), Alex Melcher (alt Alfred), Jens Janke (Professor Abronsius), Eva Maria Marold (Magda), Peter Farber (Yone Chagal), Harald Tauber (u/s Herbert von Krolock) January 17, 1999; Vienna || Notes: Final show for Alex Melcher and Steve Barton

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[trainsinanime]

German street car lights

I researched this for my own reasons (that I may post about later), but I decided to put it here so I don't forget it.

Headlights. Taillights. We know how they work, we've all seen cars before. White in front, red in back, orange turn indicators, braking makes red extra bright. But for streetcars it's not always quite that simple, which makes modelling a challenge.

First of all, front: All cars and trucks and indeed all modern streetcars have two main headlights, side by side, roughly at the outer edges of the vehicle. Modern german streetcars actually have a third headlight up on top, legally required but barely visible. In this picture of a TW 6000 from Hanover (don't worry, the track curves away there, I was well clear of where the train could travel), it's the tiny little lamp above the destination display.

The idea is to make streetcars like big trains, which (in Germany, and for new trains in all of Europe) have three white lights in an upside-down V configuration in front (exceptions apply). The third light is supposed to make it clear that the thing hurtling towards you is a train. I'm not sure how well it works in this case.

But that is a fairly recent thing. For a really long time, well into the 1970s, the standard was a single central headlight. Consider this train in Vienna (note the pride flag, not relevant, just for fun):

This is a type E₂ train, first introduced in 1978, still in use today (though probably not for much longer, if you're in Vienna and you see one of them, take a picture).

Now, Austria isn't Germany, but the standards between the two countries weren't that wildly different. As far as I can tell there was no one time when dual headlights were introduced; some cities bought trains with two headlights, some with one, often at the same time. The E₂ here was sold with single headlights to Vienna, Braunschweig, Augsburg, Duisburg and a couple of others, but also with dual headlights to Düsseldorf.

In fact, there was even a dual headlight version for Vienna, but specifically only for the Wiener Lokalbahnen, a sort of interurban railway that used streetcar tracks at the Vienna end of its route. This seems to have been a common division of headlights: Single for the purely city routes, double for the longer-distance ones, until everyone standardised on double, eventually with the third headlight on top.

For added confusion, some cities, most notably Stuttgart and Hanover, used double headlights stacked on top of each other. I assume that's meant to count as one headlight, just doubled up in case one burns out.

A very rare specialty: Two headlights side by side but mounted centrally, seen in Frankfurt am Main and I don't think a lot of other places. It's not relevant, I just want to show it because it looks so silly.

Picture: TdVG Harthweg M+m.jpg, © MdE on Wikimedia Commons and Wikipedia-DE, License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 DE

Next, turn indicators. All trams have turn indicators on their sides, generally at window level, but within the window level it's anyone's guess. Some place them near the roof, some more near the middle or bottom of the windows, it seems to be whatever the operator prefers. Turn indicators at the front, near the headlights, are surprisingly not that common. Most single-headlight trams don't have them, the turn indicators on the side have to be enough.

However, the turn indicators are often found at the rear of the train, and that also puts them on the front of dual-direction vehicles (which many trams aren't). See this Frankfurt trailing car, which can only run at the end of the train:

Picture: H-Beiwagen Schwanheim 01052009.JPG, © Urmelbeauftragter on Wikimedia Commons and Wikipedia-DE, License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 unported

You see two red tail lights, and two orange blinker lights. And, in fact, on a dual-direction train from Frankfurt, you'll see the same lights on the front:

Picture: Peter Stehlik 2012.02.18 015a.jpg, © Peter Stehlik on Wikimedia Commons and Wikipedia-DE, License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 unported

But this wasn't always the case. Consider the SSB B2 trailing car from Stuttgart. It has neither motor nor cab, and must always appear at the end of a train. Despite this, it has a (single) headlight for some reason. Perhaps for when the train needs to back up? Below it is a single red tail light. The two other red things near the coupler are just reflectors.

Actually, is that a red tail light? I took that picture in 2013, so it's been a while, and it looks pretty orange, both here and in some historic pictures, e.g. this one from 1979:

Picture: Stuttgart-ssb-sl-2-bw-654287.jpg, © Kurt Rasmussen from bahnbilder.de, found on Wikipedia, licensed for any use as long as the author is credited

Colors on old photographs are a bit of a crap shoot, and in newer videos the B2s definitely have red tail lights, like here:

But in that video it also doesn't have a headlight, so who knows what rebuilds that one in the video has been through.

Of course, if it's a single orange light, that raises the question: What's that for? Orange tail lights? As far as I can tell, probably not. In fact, a combination that is surprisingly not that uncommon is a single red and a single orange tail light, e.g. here on a historic tram in Nuremberg.

That yellow/orange light is not the "backwards turn indicator". It's the brake light.

Yes, orange brake lights used to be a thing in Germany. For cars, they were phased out in the 1960s. I think historic cars are still allowed to have them, if you can find one. For streetcars, they were phased out a bit later.

Specifically, 2016.

Until then it was legal and very common to have yellow brake lights on trams, even some very modern ones. These are usually combined with the rear turn indicators: If they both light up steadily, the tram is braking, if they're blinking, the tram is about to turn. According to Wikipedia, if it's braking and turning, then one light will light steadily, the other will be blinking, similar to those red turn signals some cars in the US use.

Note, however, that "make the red tail light brighter" (or "turn it on") seems to have been absolutely legal as well, just not super popular. This video from 1974, the final year of the streetcar system in Aachen shows both types of brake lights in action:

At this point the streetcar network in that city was in terminal decline, and all the cars there were either second-hand or cheaply rebuilt 1950s stuff, so it makes sense that the lighting system was all over the place.

Final note because it didn't fit anywhere else: A single giant tail light, at least on trailer cars, doesn't seem to have ever been used in Germany, but it was not uncommon in Austria.

Picture: Wien-wvb-sl-5-c2-567109.jpg, © Kurt Rasmussen from bahnbilder.de, found on Wikipedia, licensed for any use as long as the author is credited

Other note: It seems that side turn indicators on trailer cars were optional at times. Weird.

So why do you need to know all of that? You don't. I never said you did. I did, however, because I'm currently modifying some trams for my model railroad with better lighting functions, and I wanted to know what the end result should be. The answer is, apparently, "do whatever you want", which is frankly very liberating.

I want to make it clear that this is not an expert or well researched piece. These are just the notes I made in my head while I was trying to figure this out. I almost certainly got things wrong, and I definitely missed some nuances. If you happen to know any, or can give more information on what it was like in your country, or you just feel like it, any comment/reblog with notes/anon hate is absolutely appreciated.

All pictures where no source is mentioned are © me. Use them under CC-BY-SA 3.0 if you want.

[vergilboyfriend]

Maybe one day when my company has fully committed suicide and I lose my job and get priced out of SA I’ll move back home to my parents house and Vienna by Billy Joel will play and I’ll cry on my living room couch but it will be okay because in the morning my mommy will make me toast and I’ll move on to the next thing

[yomersapiens]

A Vienna piove ininterrottamente da giorni. È allarme in tutta l'Austria. C'è così tanta acqua dappertutto che non dovrei uscire di casa ma io esco lo stesso perché devo vedere con i miei occhi e documentare e ricordare. Il canale non troppo distante da dove abito è stato costruito a ridosso della metropolitana che ora è chiusa per rischio di esondazione. Sono passato a controllare e butta davvero male. Per anni ho guardato questo canale pensando "Ma a che diavolo serve una roba così se passa sempre un rivoletto deprimente di acqua". Adesso, a ondate, sta straripando. Mentre camminavo sotto la pioggia ero senza ombrello. Io già di mio ho problemi con gli ombrelli, non mi piacciono, sono solo una responsabilità, devi ricordarti sempre di averceli dietro e portarli con te e stare attento a non perderli. Penso la stessa cosa dei figli. Entrambe sono una responsabilità che non voglio sobbarcarmi. Camminare sotto la pioggia e senza ombrello vuol dire che devi fare una scelta: camminare in mezzo alla strada, dove diciamo ti becchi tutte le gocce possibili ma sono quelle piccole e standard della pioggia, oppure camminare rasente ai muri dei palazzi, che vuol dire evitare una buona percentuale di gocce standard ma incappare nei goccioni che cadono ogni tot metri quando le diverse grondaie dei tetti convergono. Sono quelle goccione pesanti, che si schiantano sul cappuccio del giubbotto facendo una bella esplosione rumorosa. Mentre cammino provo a contarle. Meglio un centinaio di gocce di dimensioni minori o una ventina di gocce di dimensioni maggiori? Provo a fare lo stesso calcolo con i baci, meglio dieci baci che non sanno di niente o uno che sa di tutto? Ecco questa è facile però. Meglio non confondere le cose, ché a essere dei finti romantici da tempo uggioso (o da catastrofe naturale) si finisce ad annegare in un mare che m'è dolce oh cazzo, l'ho fatto di nuovo.

[pdouwes]

Strandgut because I loved Robert David Marx in this | REBECCA Saturday, February 11th 2023 (Raimund Theater, Vienna)

Full audio can be found here. Includes both acts (split into tracks as well as the full unedited version) and a short speech by James Park at the end where he asks the audience to donate some money after the show to support the victims of the earthquakes in Syria and Turkey. 

CAST: Nienke Latten (Ich), Philipp Dietrich (u/s Maxim de Winter), Willemijn Verkaik (Mrs. Danvers), Robert David Marx (u/s Jack Favell), Annemarie Lauretta (u/s Mrs. van Hopper), James Park (Frank Crawley), Shari Lynn Stewen (u/s Beatrice), Aris Sas (Ben), Florian Fetterle (Giles), Maximilian Klakow (Frith), Jev Davis (Robert), Ulrich Allroggen (Oberst Julyan), Dana van der Geer (Clarice)

Feel free to download, trade and gift. Enjoy! :)

[sistemabibliotecariomilano]

Novità (ma non solo...)

Il vostro affezionato staff delle Biblioteche di Milano vi imbandisce un piccolo antipasto letterario, prima delle pantagrueliche proposte natalizie.

Di Geoffrey Holiday Hall si sa soltanto che fu giornalista e scrittore. Elogiato da Leonardo Sciascia che lesse La fine è nota nel 1952, pubblicò solo due gialli e poi scomparve praticamente nel nulla. La fine è nota (uscito per la prima volta in Italia con il titolo La morte alla finestra) fu premiato in Francia nel 1953 come miglior poliziesco in lingua non francese. Il titolo originale (The end is known) deriva dal Giulio Cesare di Shakespeare: “Oh, se fosse dato all’uomo di conoscere la fine di questo giorno che incombe! Ma basta solo che il giorno trascorra e la sua fine è nota”. Un giallo di classe, strutturato come un viaggio a ritroso nella vita del protagonista di cui si ricostruisce la storia passo per passo, testimonianza per testimonianza, come un misterioso puzzle che si completa, ovviamente, solo nel finale. Molto godibile è anche il secondo titolo Qualcuno alla porta, dai toni più leggeri, nonostante gli omicidi e l’atmosfera della Vienna sotto l’occupazione sovietica nel secondo dopoguerra che non ricorda neppure lontanamente gli splendori dell’impero asburgico. “Sembra uno di quei soggetti che piacevano a Hitchcock (e non è detto che il pressoché ignoto Holiday Hall, scrivendo Qualcuno alla porta, non avesse in mente le figure di James Stewart e Doris Day, o di Cary Grant e Grace Kelly)”. La frizzante coppia americana che si trova, suo malgrado, a gestire le indagini ricorda anche il duo Tommy e Tuppence di Agatha Christie. Doppio colpo di scena sul finale: cosa chiedere di più a un libro giallo?

Ha un solo difetto Un volto nella folla di Budd Schulberg: è troppo breve. Parliamo ancora dell’autore di Perché corre Sammy? e I disincantati per questo racconto appena uscito e finora inedito in Italia, da cui Elia Kazan trasse il film omonimo con protagonista Andy Griffith (l’indimenticabile avvocato Matlock della fortunata serie televisiva, per intenderci). Il tema, fin troppo attuale, è quello della manipolazione del pensiero e dei comportamenti (e quindi del voto) delle masse da parte dei personaggi dello spettacolo: in questo caso si tratta di un finto sempliciotto proveniente da un paesino dell’Arkansas che, in virtù della sua sconcertante capacità di coinvolgimento, diventa il paradigma dell’America intera. Grazie alle sue canzoni folk, a vecchi luoghi comuni sulle tradizioni popolari e a un indubbio carisma, il nostro eroe riesce a condizionare il pubblico e ad arricchirsi con i lauti proventi della pubblicità. Cambia il tema negli altri due racconti della raccolta: i ‘dietro le quinte’ del mondo del cinema in Questa è Hollywood, che l’autore, sceneggiatore e figlio di un tycoon della Paramount, non solo conosceva bene, ma sapeva anche descrivere con agile penna, e L’imbonitore, sul mondo della boxe. Ricordiamo che per la sceneggiatura di Fronte del porto (che è anche un romanzo), celebre film con Marlon Brando, Schulberg si aggiudicò l’Oscar nel 1954.

Per la serie i grandi classici hanno sempre qualcosa da dire è stato ripubblicato da Mondadori e da Sellerio Brighton Rock di Graham Greene. Una lettura da consigliare sotto tutti i punti di vista: un giallo ben costruito con protagonisti tratti sia dalla malavita, sia dal caso che fa di un personaggio del tutto inaspettato un accanito segugio alla ricerca del colpevole, come fosse Porfirij Petrovic che insegue Raskolnikov o Javert che perseguita Jean Valjean, ma con uno spirito diverso, fresco e originale. “Nello specchio inclinato sopra il lavabo si poteva vedere riflesso, ma gli occhi si distolsero rapidamente da quell’immagine di guance livide e mal rasate, di capelli lisci e occhi da vecchio. Non lo interessava. Era troppo orgoglioso per preoccuparsi del suo aspetto”.

Nuova ristampa anche per Le vittime di Norwich (1935) uno dei gialli più famosi (insieme a The House of Dr. Edwardes che ispirò il film Io ti salverò diretto da Alfred Hitchcock) fra i 31 composti dalla coppia britannica John Leslie Palmer e Hilary Aidan St. George Saunders sotto lo pseudonimo di Francis Beeding.

Da La regina degli scacchi di Walter Tevis, lo scrittore di Lo spaccone e Il colore dei soldi, è stata tratta una miniserie televisiva di grande successo. Accade spesso che i geni abbiano avuto una vita difficile, siano dei disadattati, spesso asociali, in perenne conflitto con se stessi, il prossimo e il mondo che li circonda. È anche questo il caso della protagonista, la piccola Beth, cresciuta in orfanotrofio, che trova una riscossa alla sua grigia esistenza grazie alla passione per la scacchiera. Una curiosità sul ‘caso letterario’ di Tevis: dopo il successo dei primi libri, fu dimenticato anche a causa dei problemi con l’alcol. Quando decise di riprendere a scrivere, lo fece seguendo un corso di scrittura all’Università dove fu riconosciuto dal poeta Donald Justice che, stupito, gli chiese cosa ci facesse un grande autore come lui in mezzo agli studenti, quando avrebbe invece dovuto salire in cattedra. Breve fu purtroppo la sua seconda stagione creativa: Tevis morì a soli 56 anni per un tumore.

Il voyeurismo è il tema principale dell’ultimo romanzo di Simenon pubblicato da Adelphi, Delitto impunito: composto nel 1953 durante il soggiorno dello scrittore a Lakeville nel Connecticut, fu edito l’anno successivo in volume e a puntate sul settimanale «Les Nouvelles littéraires». Il secondo tema del libro è l’invidia, quella di chi non ha nulla, né bellezza né fascino nè denaro ed è stato defraudato perfino dell’affetto dei genitori, nei confronti di chi invece ha tutto questo e ne mena vanto, e gode nell’esibirlo senza ritegno. Una lotta accanita tra due personalità, che è la lotta atavica tra gli uomini per la supremazia. “A Élie non era mai successo di trovarsi davanti un uomo completamente felice, felice in tutto e per tutto, sempre e comunque, in ogni momento della giornata, e che approfittava con candore di tutto quel che lo circondava per accrescere il proprio piacere”.

Una nuova indagine per l’improbabile detective di Partanna Giovà, metronotte per caso, coinvolto in un duplice omicidio di stampo mafioso insieme a tutta la scombinata famiglia Di Dio. Sarà ancora una volta l’anziana madre, autentica virago arroccata alle salde tradizioni popolari e armata di un cervello dalla logica “acuminata”, ad avviare le indagini verso l’inevitabile conclusione. Ma cos’è La boffa allo scecco? Questo, almeno, ve lo possiamo svelare: si tratta di un gesto simil-apotropaico (in realtà un autentico sopruso) che a tutti è occorso di subire almeno una volta nella vita, ovvero lo schiaffo di rimando, come sfogo per un’ingiustizia patita che non si è in grado di vendicare altrimenti. Roberto Alajmo non delude le aspettative.

Per quanto riguarda Sarà assente l’autore di Giampaolo Simi, si può dire che, se esiste una sana via di mezzo tra assecondare a priori i gusti dei lettori meno esigenti e scrivere in modo che solo l’autore possa comprendere i propri contenuti, Simi l’ha sicuramente trovata e ce la propone in queste succulente paginette. Dedicato a chi ha la voglia, la necessità, l’urgenza di ridere a crepapelle.

Nell’ultimo nato della serie del BarLume di Marco Malvaldi, La morra cinese, gli inossidabili vecchietti sono alle prese con l’omicidio niente di meno che di un giovane filologo romanzo alle prese con un carteggio appartenente alla famiglia di un nobile “arci-decaduto” del luogo, in cui, pare, compariva addirittura un’epistola inedita di Giacomo Leopardi. Ma questo non è l’unico movente per un delitto che non resterà a lungo irrisolto.

[sednonamoris]

hellhound: a timeline

1985 - jonathan price is born at the tail-end of england’s autumn, just outside herefordshire.

1987 - a bright, bouncing baby joins the healy family in kildare, ireland. january snow welcomes them into the world.

1998 - healy moves into their grandfather’s house on a permanent basis after their parents are deemed unfit

2001 - price joins the british army infantry at 16 to escape his father and a difficult home life. he encourages his mother to move back to her family in liverpool. she does not.

2003 - healy runs over their granddad’s mailbox peeling out of the drive on a brand new license. price is shot for the very first time.

2004 - healy joins the irish army after meeting a recruiter outside a pub that they were kicked out of for fighting. again. their granddad packs biscuits in their bags when they leave for training.

2007 - a domestic terrorism scare in belfast causes the sas and arw to team up. young sergeant healy is tasked with guarding civilians, but takes off when they see the suspect making a run for it. lieutenant price follows and they tackle the suspect in a back alley, taking him alive. price calls healy a bloody hellhound when defending their actions against a court martial, and they adopt the moniker hound shortly after.

2008 - an international terrorist group flees to vienna, where a joint venture between england, ireland, and austria attempts to capture its leader. former mi6 operative wesley martin is charged with acts of terror on english and irish soil, so the sas and arw lead the charge with austria’s unit waiting in the wings. martin flees the scene with the aid of a flashbang, and only price and hound are able to pursue. in the following altercation martin wounds price, attempts to flee once more, and is caught and killed by hound. hound then stitches price’s stomach closed in the field, saving his life but leaving a nasty scar. they part ways after. hound has a crush.

2010 - hound is promoted to lieutenant for saving their captain’s life on a difficult mission. they steal a coaster from his desk to commemorate the moment.

2011 - price’s father dies, and he flies home for a funeral where he does not cry, and helps lower a coffin into a gravesite he will not visit. he’s named captain just a week later.

2016 - price and hound meet again in egypt. price takes the brunt of a blow meant for hound and fractures his collarbone. they agree to keep in touch afterwards, sending the occasional text as proof of life and meeting for drinks on leave. both have thought about the other often over the years, and they fall into an easy friendship.

2019 - an attack is launched in picadilly circus, london, and price meets sgt. kyle garrick for the first time. together they aid farah karim, hadir karim, and alex keller in their quest to track down and neutralize stolen chemical gas from a raid in verdansk. hound is busy translating intel for the arw at the time, but when price asks them to join his task force later that year they accept without reservation.

2020 - simon “ghost” riley asks for backup he can trust in verdansk after a blown mission. price sends hound. several months later their knee is shot out when a mission goes south. price and ghost rush them to the nearest hospital. though difficult, the surgery is successful, and amidst fraught emotion price realizes that he loves hound. he does not tell them.

2021 - the situation in verdansk worsens. price keeps busy while hound undergoes intense physical therapy. they insist on helping sort through paperwork and translating intel after laswell suggests that an honorable discharge might be their best option.

2022 - hound is recovering after complications from a second surgery when general ghorbrani is assassinated and task force 141 is assigned to track down hassan zyani and several missing american bombs. they provide backup on comms as needed, filling in where laswell asks. not long after shadow company’s betrayal and the recovery of the stolen missiles in chicago, the 141 shifts its focus to makarov. hound is cleared for active duty and accompanies price on a black op in moscow. they interrogate one of makarov’s men. they plan to stage an ‘accident’, but when he threatens hound price shoots him point-blank. he and hound confess their feelings and sleep together for the first time. that christmas hound brings price home to their granddad, and soon after they convince him to get a flat together in kildare.

2023 - price is captured by makarov’s men after a mission goes sideways. hound and the rest of the 141 track him relentlessly, leading to his rescue from a not-so-abandoned gulag deep in the russian wilderness. hound tells price that they love him for the first time in the hospital afterwards. he doesn’t say it back until months later on a beautiful sunny day in a london park over leave, but they’ve both known all along.

2024 - price asks gaz to accompany him engagement ring shopping in london. after hours of searching they finally find the right one, and price proposes to hound just a few months later. gaz is asked to be the best man.

2025 - hound and price are married. they have a wonderful ceremony held in the church price grew up going to, though he’ll admit he never found much religion there until he saw hound walking towards him in white.

[europeanmusicals]

Do you know of any Euro musical productions besides Rebecca going on in Jan-March 2023?

I'm trying to plan a vacation lol, anywhere in Europe would go

TIA!

Alright this isn't going to be a full list because I'm sure I can't find them all but I've done my best. I've decided to make this a list of all musicals in Europe for all of 2023, so that everyone might find this useful (that's code for I love making lists and got carried away).

Musicals in Europe in 2023

2022.12.10 Listed alphabetically by country and then by opening date. Countries listed below are Austria, England, France, Germany, Italy, The Netherlands, Russia, Spain, Switzerland. Click 'keep reading' to see the list.

Edit 2022.12.11: added some more musical in Austria, The Netherlands and Russia. Sources to websites where I found this information and where you can book tickets are now at the bottom of the list. Sorry they weren’t added originally, I made the original list at 1am.

Edit 2022.12.11: added performances at the open-air theatre in Tecklenburg, Germany.

Edit: 2022.12.12 added more shows for Switzerland, Netherlands, Germany, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and France.

Edit: 2022.12.15 i can’t keep up with all the asks telling me to add things to the list. please see this tag (european musicals in 2023) to see asks telling me about more shows, but i don’t have the time to keep sourcing and adding them to this list anymore.

Austria

Rebecca das Musical - Vienna, Raimund Theater September 9th 2022 - TBD Cast: Nienke Latten (Ich), Mark Seibet (Maxim de Winter), Willemijn Verkaik (Mrs Danvers), Boris Pfeifer (Jack Favell), Ana Milva Gomes (Mrs Van Hopper), James Park (Frank Crawly), Annemieke van Dam (Beatrice/Alt Mrs Danvrs), Aris Sas (Ben)

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Disney) - Vienna, Ronacher November 10th 2022 - TBD Cast: Abla Alaoui (Esmerelda), David Jakobs (Quasimodo), Dominik Hees (Phoebus), Andreas Lichtenberger (Frollo), Mathias Schlung (Clopin)

My Fair Lady - Vienna, Volksoper December 14th 2022 - January 10th 2023 Cast: Juliette Khalil (Eliza Doolittle), Axel Herrig (Henry Higgins)

Catch Me if You Can - Linz, Landestheater Linz December 14th 2022 - June 3rd 2023

Anastasia - Linz, Landestheater Linz December 15th 2022 -

Hedwig and the Angry Inch - Vienna, Das Vindobona January 9th 2023 - January 29th 2023 Cast: Drew Sarich (Hedwig), Anna Mandrella (Yitzhak)

Lady in the Dark - Vienna, Volksoper January 26th 2023 - February 22nd 2023 Cast: TBD

Funny Girl - Baden, Stadttheater/Bühne Baden January 28th 2023 - March 25th 2023 Cast: Johanna Arrouas (Fanny Brice), Thomas Weissengruber (Nick Arnstein)

Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Linz, Landestheater Linz February 11th 2023 - June 17th 2023

Anatevka - Vienna, Volksoper February 23rd 2022 - March 31st 2023 Cast: TBD

Jesus Christ Superstar - Vienna, Raimund Theater March 31st 2023 - April 10th 2023 (Concert version) Cast: Drew Sarich (Jesus)

The Sound of Music - Vienna, Volksoper April 1st 2023 - May 1st 2023 Cast: TBD

Fun Home - Linz, Landestheater Linz April 13th 2023 - May 22nd 2023

Cabaret - Vienna, Volksoper May 5th 2023 - May 14th 2023 Cast: TBD

The Wizard of Oz (Arlen/Webber) - Vienna, Volksoper May 17th 2023 - June 25th 2023 Cast: TBD

Elisabeth das Musical - Vienna, Schloss Schönbrunn June 29th 2023 - July 1st 2023 (Open air concert) Maya Hakvoort (Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod)

Cabaret - Baden, Stadttheater/Bühne Baden July 7th 2023 - August 25th 2023 Cast: Anna Mandrella (Sally Boweles), Drew Sarich (Emcee), René Rumpold (Herr Schultz), Maya Hakvoort (Fraulein Schneider), Alexander Donesh (Cliff), Iva Schell (Fraulein Kost), Jan Walter (Ernst Ludwig)

Dirty Dancing - Linz, Landestheater Linz July 11th 2023 - August 6th 2023

England (West End & UK Tours)

Les Misérables - London, Sondheim Theatre October 8th 1985 - TBD

The Phantom of the Opera - London, Her Majesty's Theatre October 9th 1986 - TBD

Mamma Mia! - London, Novello Theatre April 6th 1999 - September 30th 2023

The Lion King - London, Lyceum Theatre October 19th 1999 - TBD

Wicked - London, Apollo Victoria Theatre September 27th 2006 - TBD

Matilda - London, Cambridge Theatre October 25th 2011 - December 17th 2023

The Book of Mormon - London, Prince of Wales Theatre February 25th 2013 - March 18th 2023

Hamilton - London, Victoria Palace Theatre December 21st 2017 - September 30th 2023

Tina (The Tuna Turner Musical) - London, Aldwych April 17th 2018 - July 11th 2023

Six - London, Vaudeville Theatre January 17th 2019 - TBD

Only Fools and Horses: The Musical - London, Theatre Royal Haymarket February 9th 2019 - April 1st 2023

Mary Poppins - London, Prince Edward Theatre November 13th 2019 - January 8th 2023

& Juliet - London, Shaftesbury Theatre November 20th 2019 - March 25th 2023

Come From Away - London, Phoenix Theatre January 19th 2019 - January 7th 2023

Jersey Boys - London, Trafalgar Theatre July 18th 2021 - April 30th 2023

Pretty Woman - London, Savoy Theatre July 19th 2021 - April 2nd 2023

Frozen - London, Theatre Royal Drury Lane August 27th 2021 - March 26th 2023

Back to the Future - London, Adelphi Theatre September 13th 2021 - February 12th 2023

Get Up, Stand Up! The Bob Marley Musical - London, Lyric Theatre October 1st 2021 - January 8th 2023

Moulin Rouge! - London, Piccadilly Theatre November 12th 2021 - April 15th 2023

Cabaret - London, Kit Kat Club at the Playhouse Theatre November 15th 2021 - December 16th 2023

Heathers - London, The Other Palace Theatre November 25th 2021 - February 18th 2023

Bonnie and Clyde - London, Garrick Theatre March 4th 2022 - May 20th 2023

The Witches of Oz - London, The Vaults Theatre September 19th 2022 - January 14th 2023

Hex - London, Olivier Theatre November 26th 2022 - January 14th 2023

Newsies - London, Troubadour Wembley Park Theatre November 29th 2022 - April 16th 2023

Mandela - London, Young Vic November 29th 2022 - February 4th 2023

Bugsy Malone - London, Alexandra Palace December 3rd 2022 - January 15th 2023

The Rocky Horror Show - UK Tour January 3rd 2023 - September 2nd 2023

Fisherman's Friends - UK Tour January 31st 2023 - May 30th 2023

Jersey Boys - UK Tour January 10th 2023 - May 6th 2023

Sister Act - UK Tour January 11th 2023 - January 27th 2024

Blood Brothers - UK Tour January 17th 2023 - April 29th 2023

Dirty Dancing - Dominion Theatre January 18th 2023 - April 29th 2023

Sylvia - London, Old Vic January 27th 2023 - April 1st 2023

Oklahoma! - London, Wyndham's Theatre February 16th 2023 - September 2nd 2023

Bat out of Hell - London, Peacock Theatre February 17th 2023 - April 1st 2023

The Great British Bake Off Musical - London, Noel Coward Theatre February 25th 2023 - May 13th 2023

Guys and Dolls - London, Bridge Theatre February 27th 2023 - September 2nd 2023

Titanic the Musical - UK Tour March 16th 2023 - August 5th 2023

Ain't Too Proud - London, Prince Edward's Theatre March 31st 2023 - October 1st 2023

The Rocky Horror Show - London, Peacock Theatre May 3rd 2023 - June 10th 2023

Mrs Doubtfire - London, Shaftsbury Theatre May 12th 2023 - January 13th 2024

42nd Street - London, Sadler's Wells June 7th 2023 - July 2nd 2023

Crazy for You - London, Gillian Lynne Theatre June 24th 2023 - January 20th 2024

The Spongebob Musical - London, Queen Elizabeth Hall July 26th 2023 - August 27th 2023

The Drifter's Girl - UK Tour September 12th 2023 - January 13th 2024

France

The Producers / Les Producteurs - Paris, Theatre de Paris December 9th 2022 - April 2nd 2023

The Lion King / Le Roi Lion (Disney) - Paris, Théâtre Mogador December 13th 2022 - June 6th 2023

Cabaret - Paris, Lido2Paris - February 3rd 2023

Josephine Baker the Musical - Paris, Bobino Theatre - February 22nd 2023

Notre Dame de Paris - Paris, NODUS November 15th 2023 - December 3rd 2023

Germany

Tanz der Vampire - Stuttgart, Stage Palladium Theater October 5th 2021 - September 10th 2023 Cast: Filippo Strocchi (Graf von Krolock), Kristin Backes (Sarah), Vincent van Gorp (Afred), Jakub Wocial (Professor Abronsius), Oleg Krasovitskii (Chagal), Anja Bakus (Magda), Wolfgang Zarnack (Koukol), Andreas Nutzl (Herbert), Hanny Aden (Rebeca)

Aladdin (Disney) - Stuttgart, Stage Apollo Theater October 2021 - January 19th 2023 Cast: Gonzalo Campos López (Aladdin), Rita Sebah (Jasmin), Maximillian Man (Genie), Claus Dam (Sultan), Paolo Bianca (Jafar), Terry Alfaro (Iago)

Ku-Damm 56 das Musical - Berlin, Stage Theater des Westens October 2021 - February 19th 2023 Sandra Leitner (Monika), Pedro Reichert (Freddy), Katja Uhlig (Caterina Schollack), Patrik Cieslik (Joachim)

Mamma Mia - Hamburg, Stage Theater Neue Flora October 2021 - August 27th 2023 Cast: Sabine Mayer (Donna), Anna Thorén (alt Donna), Rose-Anne van Elswijk (Sophie), Jennifer van Brenk (Tanja), Franziska Lessing (Rosie), Sasche Oliver Bauer (Sam), Tetje Mierendorf (Bill), Detlef Leistenschneider (Harry)

Hamilton - Hamburg, Stage Operettenhaus October 2021 - September 30th 2023 Benet Monteiro (Alexander Hamilton), Diluckshan Jeyaratnam (alt Hamilton/Aaron Burr), Ivy Quainoo (Eliza Hamilton), Gino Emnes (Aaron Burr), Chasity Crisp (Angelixa Schuyler), Charles Simmons (George Washington), Daniel Dodd-Ellis (Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson), Redchild (Hercules Mulligan/James Maddison), Oliver Edward (John Laurens/Philip Hamilton), Mae Ann Jorolan (Peggy Schuyler/Maria Reynolds), Jan Kersjes (King George)

Frozen/Die Eiskonigin (Disney) - Hamburg, Stage Theater an der Elbe October 2021 - December 23rd 2023 Cast: Sabrina Weckerlin (Elsa), Celena Pieper (Anna), Janneke Ivankova (alt Elsa), Willemijn Maandag (alt Anna), Owen Playfair (Kristoff), Bob van de Weijdeven (Hans), Elindo Avastia (Olaf)

The Lion King/Der Konig der Lowen (Disney) - Hamburg, Stage Theater im Hafen October 2021 - December 17th 2023 Cast: Hope Maine (Simba), Andrea del Solar (Nala), OJ Lunch (Mufasa), Bongiwe Happiness Malunga (Rafiki), Bernd Lambrecht (Scar), Joachim Benoit (Zazu), Tobias Korinth (Timon), S'Thembiso Keith Machiane (Pumbaa)

Moulin Rouge! - Cologne, Musical Dome Autumn 2022 - June 30th 2023

Tina (The Tina Turner Musical) - Stuttgart, Stage Apollo Theater March 7th 2023 - December 23rd 2023 Cast: Aisata Blackman (Tina Turner)

Romeo und Julia: Liebe ist Alles (Plate/Sommer) - Berlin, Stage Theater des Westens March 21st 2023 - June 30th 2023

Madagascar: A Musical Adventure - Tecklenburg, Freilichtspiele Tecklenburg May 14th 2023 - August 30th 2023

Musical Meets Pop / Pfingstgala -Tecklenburg, Freilichtspiele Tecklenburg May 29th 2023

Mozart! das Musical - Tecklenburg, Freilichtspiele Tecklenburg June 16th 2023 - August 27th 2023

Robin Hood das Musical - Fulda, Schlosstheater June 18th 2023 - August 27th 2023

Miami Nights - Tecklenburg, Freilichtspiele Tecklenburg July 21st 2023 - September 10th 2023

Tarzan (Disney) - Stuttgart, Stage Palladium Theater November 18th 2023 - June 30th 2024 Cast: TBD

Ireland

Six - UK and Ireland Tour, Belfast April 11th 2023 - April 15th 2023

Italy

Sister Act - Milan, Teatro Nazionale CheBanca December 2022 - January 8th 2023

The Netherlands

Aladdin - The Hague, Circustheater Scheveningen October 2021 - February 26th 2023 Cast: Jonathan Vroege (Aladdin), Stanley Burleson (Genie), Keoma Aidhen (Jasmine), Roberto de Groot (Jafar), Michel Sorbach (Sultan), Darren van der Lek (Iago)

Tina (The Tina Turner Musical) - Utrecht, Beatrix Theater October 2021 - February 18th 2023 Cast: Nyassa Alberta (Tina), Nurlaila Karim (alt Tina)

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Netherlands Tour December 7th 2022 - March 5th 2023

The Prom - Royal Theater Carré January 20th 2023 - January 22nd 2023 Cast: Pia Douwes, Juliette van Tongeren

Les Misérables - Royal Theater Carré March 1st 2023 - March 19th 2023 Milan van Waardenburg (Jean Valjean), René van Kooten (alt Jeab Valjean), Freek Vartels (Javert), Yannick Plugers (Thénardier), Michael Muyderman (Marius), Channah Hewitt (Fantine), Vajén van den Bosch (Éponine), Ellen Pieters (Madame Thénardier), Mark Roy Luykx (Enjolras), Sem Gerritsma (Cosette)

Aida (Disney) - The Hague, Circustheater Scheveningen April 12th 2023 - June 30th 2023

Les Misérables - Royal Theater Carré July 5th 2023 - July 23rd 2023 Milan van Waardenburg (Jean Valjean), René van Kooten (alt Jeab Valjean), Freek Vartels (Javert), Yannick Plugers (Thénardier), Michael Muyderman (Marius), Channah Hewitt (Fantine), Vajén van den Bosch (Éponine), Ellen Pieters (Madame Thénardier), Mark Roy Luykx (Enjolras), Sem Gerritsma (Cosette) 

Six - Amsterdam, Delamar Theatre September 20th 2023 - October 1st 2023

Six - Rotterdam, Nieuwe Luxor Theater October 4th 2023 - October 8th 2023

Russia

Fear Nothing, I Am With You НИЧЕГО НЕ БОЙСЯ, Я С ТОБОЙ - Moscow, MDM Theatre 2022 - February 26th 2023

First Date - Moscow, MDM Theatre December 17th 2022 - January 28th 2023

Valentine’s Day - Moscow, MDM Theatre December 22nd 2022 - January 21st 2023

Demon Onegin мюзикл Демон Онегина - St Petersburg December 23rd 2022 - July 23rd 2023

Master and Margarita МАСТЕР И МАРГАРИТА - St Petersburg December 29th 2022 - July 16th 2023

Alice in Wonderland (Gleb Matveychuk) - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии January 2nd 2023 - January 4th 2023

Miracle-Yudo ЧУДО-ЮДО- St Petersburg January 4th 2023 - January 6th 2023

Hits From The Broadway And The Whole World - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии   January 5th 2023, January 19th 2023

The Count of Monte Cristo (Frank Wildhorn) - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии January 6th 2023 - January 8th 2023

Notre Dame de Paris + Romeo et Juliette - St Petersburg January 13th 2023

Can-Can - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии January 14th 2023 - January 15th 2023

Bely.Petersburg - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии January 17th 2023

Thieves’ Carnival - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии January 18th 2023

Peter I ПЁТР I (Frank Wildhorn) - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии January 20th 2023 - TBD

The Mousetrap - St Petersburg, Большой зал театра музыкальной комедии January 21st 2023

Queen of Spades Дама Пик - St Petersburg January 25th 2023 - January 26th 2023

Diamond Chariot Алмазная колесница - St Petersburg January 20th 2023 - April 9th 2023

Lolita Лолита - St Petersburg February 3rd 2023 - July 28th 2023

Seven Short Stories Семь новелл - St Petersburg February 11th 2023 - May 9th 2023

Rasputin РАСПУТИН - St Petersburg February 9th 2023 - May 6th 2023

Scotland

Six - UK and Ireland Tour, Edinburgh, Aberdeen, Glasgow May 2nd 2023 - May 13th 2023, August 29th 2023 - September 3rd 2023

Spain

Company - Madrid, UMusic Hotel Teatro Albéniz November 17th 2022 - February 14th 2023

The Lion King / El Rey León - Madrid, Teatro Lope de Vega December 2022 - March 31st 2023

Tina (The Tina Turner Musical) - Madrid, Teatro Coliseum December 2022 - January 8th 2023

Switzerland

Sister Act - Zurich, MAAG halle December 2022 - Feburary 23rd 2023

Lady Bess - St Gallen, Theatre St Gallen January 12th 2022 - April 26th 2023

Wustenblume - St Gallen, Theatre St Gallen May 23rd 2023 - June 10th 2023

Wales

Six - UK and Ireland Tour, Aberdeen August 8th 2023 - August 12th 2023

Sources (links not clickable otherwise Tumblr may block/hide the post):

musicalvienna.at

muzcomedy.ru

spotlight-musicals.de

stage-entertainment.com/productions

theatersg.ch

theatreinparis.com

mm-musical.ru

volksoper.at

companyelmusical.es

charliedemusical.nl

londontheatre.co.uk/whats-on

landestheater-linz.at/musiktheater

buehnebaden.at

drew-sarich.com

carre.nl/en

freilichtspiele-tecklenburg.de

sisteract-musical.ch

sixthemusical.com

moulin-rouge-musical.de