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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

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Raven Girls AU!!!!

Okay so this turned out to be hella long and it’s only the intro :))))))) I’m going to put one of those little cuts on here but it never works on mobile for me so we’ll see how this goes.

Aglionby Academy’s Exy program exists to groom kids for Evermore. The weak are weeded out within a week. Anyone who survives is subjected to brutal abuse. Tetsuji Moriyama bought off Aglionby’s headmaster years ago and now the Raven Academy’s sole purpose is to provide kids for Evermore. They’re a small team, never more than 12 kids make the final cut, but they’ve dominated the nation since their exy program started up. Niall Lynch was the one who insisted on bringing Exy to Evermore. He had been in Japan selling his newest dream when he, quite literally, ran into Kayleigh Day. As much as he wanted to return to Henrietta, he really couldn’t drag himself from her. Kayleigh Day was a storm. She couldn’t sit still for the life of her. She was brimming with light and life and energy. She was Niall’s best friend. With a little of his Southern charm and a lot of dreams, Niall bought his way into university. He wasn’t keen on inventing a new sport but he’d played lacrosse at Aglionby so making the jump to Exy wasn’t hard. Tetsuji became what he called a ‘striker’ while Niall pouted as the team goalkeeper.

“Aye, love” Kayleigh said, bounding up to him. “You’ve got a right puss on yer face. Is this about you being a goalkeep?” Niall’s scowl only intensified and she laughed. “Look, mate. Between you an me, Tetsuji ain’t the whole shilling. It’s best not to fret too much an leave him be.” Niall’s mood stubbornly refused to improve until Kayleigh offered to take him out drinking if he quit sulking. They drank until neither of them could walk right and Tetsuji and David had to haul them back to their dorms.

Anyway, Niall moves back to Henrietta and creates Aurora and has Declan and Rose. He continues to travel around the world to sell his dreams. There’s a client up in Ireland so he stops by Kayleigh’s place to visit her. That’s when he finds out about Kevin. Kayleigh tells him who the father is but Niall keeps his mouth shut at her request. His blood is boiling. In the years he spent in Japan with her, Niall had begun to see Kayleigh as a sister. Once more, he finds himself extending his stay to be with her and help take care of Kevin, nevermind that he’s just ditched his own kids. David visits all the time and Niall softens a little. David doesn’t even know it’s his kid and he’s really out here looking after Kevin? That’s cute as hell.

It’s during this trip that the accident occurs. Niall is the one driving the car. There hadn’t been a single car on the road as he turned the corner. Out of thin air, a jet black car had appeared, hurtling down the road towards them. Kayleigh only had time to say ‘car’ before it rammed into them, full-speed. Time seemed to slow. Niall could, in great detail, remember every second of it: the feel of Kay’s nails biting into his forearm as she braced herself. In the rearview mirror, Kevin’s face was as pale as a ghost. In his hands, he clutched a stuffed rabbit close to his chest as if it could protect him from all of this. All of this was slightly blurred by the tears swimming in Niall’s eyes. Sometimes, late at night, he could still hear the scrape of metal on asphalt as the car flipped over, sliding across the road on its side.

Niall didn’t trust himself to drive for a long time after that. He didn’t trust himself to take care of Kevin either. Kayleigh’s will stated that she wanted Tetsuji to take Kevin. Niall is too wracked with guilt and sorrow to remember that Kay hadn’t thought Tetsuji was entirely sane. He lets Kevin leave with Tetsuji and takes the next flight back to Virginia. He calls a cab to take him home because he no longer trusts himself to drive. When he sees Declan and Rose again for the first time, he breaks down sobbing. What if they’d been in that car too? What if they were the ones that had died? Sad boi hours hit Niall. Depression results in a lot of his dreams being monsters and rain clouds. All of the things he dreams are tinged blue-gray. One night, he sees Rose in one of his dreams. In it she’s smiling brightly at him, sheltered by a dome of vines blooming with blood-red roses. The next morning he wakes to Rose screaming with delight. He rushes into her room to find it overrun by black vines studded in thorns. They filled the room and climbed the posts of her bed. Blood-red buds hung from the branches. At the center of it all, Rose was sitting up in her bed. A lopsided crown of roses hung from her brow. Rose turned to see her father and smiled. At once, the buds burst open, blooming before Niall’s very eyes. The thorns retracted into their branches. In their place, seaweed green leaves unfurled. The branches reconfigured themselves into an arch overhang over the length of Rose’s bed. Sunlight streamed into the room from the window, casting a halo around Rose’s form. All the weight falls off Niall’s shoulders and tears streamed down his face as a smile tugged at his lips. He collapsed into Rose’s bed and wrapped his arms around her. As her laughter rang in his ears, Niall finally started to believe that maybe everything really would be alright. He pulled her into his lap and listened to Rose prattle on and on about all the things she wanted to do that day. For once, Niall is content to keep his mouth shut and listen. Aurora comes in to find them curled up together and laughs before telling them that breakfast is ready. Niall ignored the implied invitation in favor of dragging her into bed with them. Declan only glares at his father as he passed by the open door.

Declan is a very lonely little boy. Ever since he was old enough to understand, Niall has taught Declan that his only purpose in life is to take care of Rose. Rose is baby. She must be protected at all costs. He does his best but he does so with a bitter heart. Especially when he realizes that Rose is a dreamer too. Unlike their father, Rose doesn’t dream things for herself. She dreams things for Declan. Rose dreams little firetrucks and model cars and walkie talkies and basketballs. All of them for her brother. Niall never lets Declan keep these little presents. Instead, he snatches them all away to be stored in the attic in boxes labeled with his sister’s name. At some point, Declan starts refusing Rose’s gifts. There’s no point in taking them if their father is just going to pry them from him as soon as Rose’s back is turned. Rose takes this as a sign that she’s upset her brother. She starts offering him little prizes from the woods instead. Shiny pebbles she finds in rivers and baby mice from the barn. Niall doesn’t let Declan keep those either. Eventually, Rose gives up on him and dreams up a brother that loves her. That’s how they get Matthew.

The Lynchs are Henrietta royalty so they all respect them but everyone genuinely loves Rose. She’s loud and kind and happy. She runs around giving people flowers that she accidentally dreamt up and making silly faces at sad people until they laugh. Rose Lynch is a literal ray of sunshine that’s trapped within the form of a little girl. Often times, people will see her racing around town with Matthew, who she totes around in a little red wagon. They’re only supervision is Declan who’s only a year older than her. Niall insists on putting her in frilly little dresses that Rose always destroys. At some point, Declan starts giving her his clothes so she can change into them before going out on her adventures. He’s taller than she is so he learns how to sew in order to hem the bottoms of the pants. He always neatly cuffs the sleeves on her shirts while she whines before he lets her out of the house too. Niall hates seeing Rose covered in mud so Declan always sits her down in one of those little plastic kiddie pools and hoses her off. He makes her change back into her dress and combs her hair before dinner so that Niall doesn’t find out that she’s been up to mischief.

If Rose isn’t running around with her brothers, she’s with her father. Niall walks around Henrietta with his daughter clinging to his hand. Her hands are too small for his so she can only hold onto like two of his fingers at a time. At sunset, they head back to the Barns and sit with the cattle, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon. Niall dreams fireflies for Rose to chase late at night. Often, Rose gets carried away chasing them and will stumble into Cabeswater. The forest has slowly but surely been springing up. Every night, she dreams more and more trees into existence. By the time she’s eighteen, it’s a beautiful, sprawling forest that covers several hectares of what was once empty land. Each time baby Rose ventures too far in, the forest bends itself to send her right back home. They give her little trinkets too. Cabeswater has given her a lot of things but my favorites are the following: a little jar of light that glows as bright as the sun but only when she’s alone, a pouch of berries that taste the way hugs feel, an old cd player that plays whatever song she wants but only in the voice of a girl she’s yet to meet, and an anklet with little bells that only Declan can hear.

Rose doesn’t have very many friends or see many kids her age. There is one though. Nathania Wesninski often accompanies her father on his trips down to Henrietta. Nathan and Niall have some form of agreement in which Niall dreams up forgeries for Nathan’s business. Nathan loves exactly two things in his life: his daughter: Nathania, and his best friend: Niall. So, of course, he brings Ania down to Henrietta with him. He knows the truth about Niall’s ability and Rose’s too. I’ll establish this now because it’s important down the road: Nathan would never actually harm a single hair on Rose’s head. She’s Niall’s favorite kid and he wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt him... would he?

So, up until her escape, Nathania and Rose see each other once a month/ every two months. They’re p close. They play in the woods together while Niall and Nathan chill on the patio watching them. Everyone is soft for someone and Nathan is soft for Niall. Niall knows who Nathan is and what he does. He’s just learned to accept that part of him because he knows that there’s more to Nathan than just the Butcher of Baltimore. Nathan is still a monster. You’ll see why.

After Nathania leaves, Nathan is a mess. He becomes far more cruel and cold and hateful. Niall doesn’t find out about it for a while though. When he does, he demands that Nathan return to Henrietta. He does. Nathan is in shambles. Niall spends months piecing him back together. Just as he’s getting better, Lola arrives to tell him that they’ve picked up Mary’s trail. All of Niall’s hard work crumbles to nothing. The Nathan Niall once knew is gone. He can’t stand the new one so he ends up cutting ties entirely. Nathan is enraged. First Mary stole his daughter and now Niall has abandoned him? In a fit of rage, Nathan kills Niall while Rose watches in horror from beneath his car. There’s nothing she can do but pick up her father’s broken corpse once Nathan leaves and call Declan.

When Niall dies, Rose’s feelings are a whirlwind. Part of her is grateful to no longer be confined to those ridiculous dresses or listen to bullshit stories about her father’s life. Another part of her is kicking herself for thinking such things. How dare she try to find the silver lining in all this? Her father is dead. Rose loved her father but she can’t help but feel a certain weight has fallen off her shoulders. Since she’d started consciously dreaming things, her father had started expecting things of her. No matter what she did, it was never enough. Niall always smiles and accepted whatever she offered him, but Rose couldn’t shake the feeling that she was falling short of his expectations. Gansey wasn’t any help. She’d recently made friends with the eccentric Richard Campbell Gansey III and she didn’t really understand how she’d managed it.

Rose and Gansey appeared polar opposites. He was all soft lines and a paragon of grace and elegance. Rose was all sharp edges and an apotheosis of all that a girl should not be. All the girls that attend the Ganseys’ parties were mild-mannered with sweet laughs and shy smiles. Rose always felt so out of place trying to talk to them. She heard them snickering amongst themselves as she tripped over her own feet and wobbled in her heels. One night, Rose kicked the shoes off and ran. Sharp rocks stabbed at her soles. Branches scratched at her feet. The wind dried her tears from her face but they couldn’t pry the scowl from her face. She collapsed by the side of the road in a ditch, smearing her new dress in mud.

“Rose?” a voice called out. She whipped around to find Gansey sliding down into ditch she now knelt in. His clothes were destroyed. Tears in his blazer exposed his muck-covered shirt. He’d definitely fall into something while chasing her. Leaves and twigs were embedded in his hair and his glasses were askew. “Rose, what happened?” he asked as he knelt beside her. Rose was at a loss for words.

“Why are you here?” she croaked.

“Because you ran off,” Gansey said. He furrowed his brows. “Was I not supposed to follow you?” Rose didn’t say anything. Gansey interpreted her silence as an affirmation of his fears. “I’m sorry, he whispered. Retreating into his shoulders, Gansey looked a lot less like the coveted son of a congressman and a lot more like a sixteen-year-old kid. He took Rose’s hand in his. ”I’m sorry,” he repeated. “This is all a little bit new to me. I- I’ve never had a friend before,” he said with a meek smile. Haloed by moonlight, Rose was absolutely certain knelt before an angel. This was the Gansey no one else knew. This was Gansey the boy, uncertain and unabashedly so. Rose grabbed Gansey and pulled him into a fierce hug. He tensed at the sudden affection before relaxing enough to wrap his own arms around her. Rose heard his laughter ringing in her ears and smiled. This was Rose’s Gansey, the brother she’d always dreamt of having.

Aglionby Academy is a co-ed school where boys outnumber girls by an outrageous margin. It's like 12 or 13 male students to 1 female. Matthew is a striker. Rose is a backliner and with Declan in goal, they’re unstoppable. There’s also only ever been 2 girls on the Aglionby Exy team: Rose Lynch and Juliet Kavinsky. Juliet is a striker as well. Declan is captain so he does his best to keep them apart but he can’t stop what happens in the locker room. They’re always throwing punches at each other, on the court, in the locker room, and even in the halls. Gansey usually has to break it up.

Noah is Noah. Rose likes him a lot. She complains to him a lot about the pretty girl in her English class. Rose was always painfully aware of the quiet girl in the corner who’d once roasted Thaddeus within an inch of his life. She had a quiet intensity to her that forced most of the guys in their school away from her. If you got past that, you realized that she was actually really plain. Her hair was the color of dirt and her eyes were blue. Just blue. Not sky blue or ice blue or anything. Just blue. Her skin was a warm brown in the winter that tanned nicely every summer. Freckles danced across her face and over her arms. Rose wanted to kiss every single one of them. Adeline Parrish was as plain as they came but there was something so undeniably beautiful about her that Rose couldn’t help but stare. On the way up to Aglionby on the very first day of school, Rose had leaned out the window of Gansey’s car to feel the wind in her face. She’s nearly fallen out entirely when she’d caught sight of Adeline for the first time.

Noah knows Rose’s gay before Rose does. It’s because she keeps waxing poetic about Adeline but he chooses to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he creeps around Aglionby with a little tape recorder.

Log 247: Parrish curled her legs up to her chest, revealing the shorts she wears under her skirt. Lynch nearly fainted on the spot. She spent the remainder of the day, blushing red as a rose. Hahaha. I’d be a comedian if I weren’t fucking dead.

Blue is Blue. She never dates Adeline but Addy crushes on her… hard. Orla hits on Addy bc she thinks it’s fun. Addy’s suffering is never-ending. Orla tries it on Rose but it has to affect. Rose has eyes for Addy and Addy alone.

Juliet hates Addy bc she spends a lot of time with Rose in their last two years. Jealousy thy name is Juliet and you need to chill tf out.

Like I’ve said, Evermore takes all the kids from Aglionby and Declan is a year older than Rose. The two of them haven’t resolved their issues by the time he graduates. Instead, he marches bravely into the belly of Evermore, fully prepared to face Tetsuji’s torture. The Moriyamas want the Grey Warren and they will have it if they have to kill for it. They know it’s a person, just not who.

Why do they want the Grey Warren? Well, who could stand against the head of a mafia that could dream up troops on a whim? They intend to breed more dreamers and harness their abilities to take over all of North America. Declan would rather die than let his sister fall into the hands of the Moriyamas so he suffers through eighteen-hour days on the court and then nightly torture to protect her. On his bedside is a glass of water with a single rose. Every night he changes out the water and measures out a little food for it. He talks to it too. He tells it about how well he’s doing in school and out on the court. He tells it how proud he is of it and cries himself to sleep because he’s going to die here at Evermore without a chance to tell the real Rose all of these things.

While he’s there, he discovers Cleo bc everyone at Evermore knows that the child exists. His ‘Dad’ instincts activate immediately. He raised Rose and she turned out fine… more or less. So, yeah, in this AU Jeanie isn’t quite as alone as she was in the og one. He also helps Jeanie escape Evermore with Cleo and Ania. There’s Hell to pay for it but he has no regrets. Tetsuji finds the rose and plucks each of the petals off and lets them fall to the floor as Declan screams. Logically, Declan knows it isn’t his sister but it’s the only thing he’d got left of her. After that, he kind of starts drifting, dissociating through most of his days. What’s the point? Jeanie and Cleo have left and now even his rose is gone.

Alright, so timeline, all of this is occurring during Ania’s first year. While Ania is running from Riko, Tetsuji is mostly preoccupied with Declan and the Grey Warren. And then Nathan is a thing. I’ll get to this in a minute.

Anyway, the Gangsy is formed and they’re having their adventures while Addy falls in love with Blue and Rose suffers. Rose wants to hate Blue for stealing her woman but Blue is oddly charming. She’s loud and fearless and actually really admirable. Rose has a begrudging respect for her. They’ve got a game called Blue’s Clues bc Rose is a nerd. She’ll nick things from Blue’s house and leave clues on how to find it. Blue always goes bc Rose always picks things that are incredibly important to her. While Blue is out there tracking down whatever it is Rose has taken from her, Rose has Addy all to herself. They do all the stupid antics that Ronan and Adam did in. They go couch surfing a lot. Not that one. I’m talking about the one where they tie a couch to the back of a truck and drag it behind them as the truck hurtles down the road. Addy has almost died on several occasions because of this. Noah loves going with them. He fears nothing bc he’s already dead :(

So in their senior year, after Addy leaves her father’s home to live at the church, the tuition rate goes up. Fuck. Addy’s working three jobs and is barely able to make ends meet. So she goes down to talk to the Headmaster to see if she can cut a deal. He’s a ho about it. Just as Addy is giving up hope he says, “You know, there’s another way you could pay off your tuition.” He smiles at her. It’s a cruel and sharp thing. He doesn’t have to say anything else. Addy already knows what he means. She excuses herself from the room and he calls after her, telling her it was just an offer and she was going to need another job anyway.

Henrietta is a small town. If she loaned her body out to the Headmaster, others would start trying to put a price on her body as well. In no time, she’d be infamous. No, she told herself. There’s got to be another way. So she goes home with all these thoughts swirling in her head. Rose is laying in Addy’s bed when Addy gets home. “Oh, looks like Her Majesty’s got something on her mind,” Rose says as she rolls onto her stomach. “Care to share, Queenie?” Addy doesn’t respond and Rose starts to worry. It takes a lot of prodding but Addy eventually tells Rose about the Headmaster’s offer. Rose’s blood is boiling.

Instead of dreaming it up, the girls actually go in and break into the Headmaster’s residence. To their horror, they find evidence that Addy isn’t the first girl he’s made the offer to. It isn’t just girls either. They find hundreds of photos of girls and boys far too young to have consented to any of this bound to a bed, beaten and bruised all over. It’s the same bed in the room next door. The Headmaster has a scar running the length of his forearm. In more than one of the photos, the scar is visible as it pins the kids down. They copy the files and find videos too. Both of them are scarred for life by the time they stumble out of the Headmaster’s office but they’ve got what they needed. This isn’t just about Addy anymore. It’s about all of those kids they’d just seen.

Due to the indisputable evidence they’ve presented, the Headmaster is fired and is to be sent to a max. security prison but he offers info on a major mob family: The Moriyamas. They kill him before he gets a word out but they’re screwed now. They can no longer feed kids from Aglionby into Evermore. They’re also about to lose their one link to the Grey Warren. The Moriyamas descend on Henrietta like a murder of ravens. Juliet finds about their nefarious plot and, being the lovesick fool she is, offers herself in place of Rose. The Moriyamas don’t know what there’s more than one dreamer so they take Juliet and they leave. Rose is concerned at the disappearance of Juliet but she doesn’t read super far into it until she gets the phone call. I’ll get to that in a minute. Now we’re getting to the really bad part. Time for Nathan to be a disgusting excuse for a human being.

Juliet is brought to Baltimore and chucked into the basement of the Wesninski House. She’s left there for about a week. Food is thrown down once a day but at no discernable interval. There’s no way for Juliet to tell time. She’s just a sobbing mess. Finally, Nathan descends the steps. Juliet tries to fight him but his men arrive and hold her down.

“Juliet,” he said with a soft voice. “Hush, my dear.” Nathan brushed the hair from her face and Juliet bit at him. “Feisty,” he chuckled. Juliet snarled. “Oh, I’d put that attitude away if I were you.”

“Or what?” Juliet snapped.

“You know, flowers don’t do well without sunlight. I wonder what might happen if I trapped a little rose down here.” Juliet felt the blood drain from her face. She opened her mouth but no words came out. “I’m glad you’ve decided to see things my way, Juliet,” Nathan chirped. Suddenly, he sobered. His smile fell away and his shoulders sagged. “You know why you’re here, Kavinsky. Master had plans for you but I’ve managed to persuade him to… alter them. You still have to bear an heir but they aren’t going to touch you.” Nathan took a deep breath. From behind him, a woman came out. A wicked smile twisted her face as she offered him what looked like a turkey baster. “I’m going to make this as painless as possible, alright?” Juliet screamed and the men tightened their grip on her. They anchored her down to the floor and she felt a hand slip under her skirt. The woman’s manic laughter echoed through the basement, mingling with the screams and sobs of Juliet.

After that, Juliet is taken out of the basement. She spends the remainder of her time in the lap of luxury. She’s moved to a beautiful room on the third floor of the house but Juliet knows a cage when she sees one.

Nathan doesn’t really bother her bc he feels bad. To be clear, he did argue that she shouldn’t be raped by this is an equally traumatic experience so… Anyway, he can’t stand seeing Juliet and it’s because she’s around Ania’s age.

Physically, Ania takes after her father for the most part, but personality-wise she takes after her mother (except for her temper. That’s pure Wesninski). Nathan and Mary loved their daughter more than anything in the world but they’re both such broken people that they don’t really know how to show her this. That’s the origin of the Kiss, Kiss game I talked about a thousand years ago. Nathan is so fucking pissed when Mary runs away with Ania. That’s his baby. She was the light of his miserable life and now she’s gone. He didn’t want to send Ania to the Moriyamas either but in his head, it was for the best. At least, he would get to visit her when he came to Evermore for… business. So he sets out to track her down. His anger overwhelms him when he catches up to Mary. He kills her for taking his daughter and Ania escapes while he’s thrown in jail. When he comes home to find Juliet in his basement, all he can think of is Ania. If anything like this were to happen to his daughter? There wouldn’t be any goddamn survivors is what. He knows what he’s done is wrong and he can’t face Juliet bc all he can see is his own daughter. He shreds all the photos of her and burns all of her things. He had all the mirrors in his house covered and can barely even stand the tiny, warped reflection of himself that he sees in his spoons.

Over the course of his eight-year hunt, Nathan’s grief costs many people their lives. Niall is almost successful in his attempt to patch Nathan back up but we know how that ends. Rose Lynch is the last remaining piece of Niall. Nathan doesn’t dare return to Henrietta, not because he’s afraid of her but because he’s afraid of himself. He doesn’t want to hurt her too. However, he doesn’t have any qualms with threatening her safety to get Juliet to comply. Disgusting little man.

Juliet can hear the tortured screams of people in the basement and it stresses her out to the point that she has a miscarriage. This occurs the day Ania is supposed to return home. Nathan goes ballistic. He drags Juliet down to the basement by her hair and is just tirading.

“Juliet, do you comprehend what you’ve just done?” he asked her as he flung things across the room. “We’re fucked. We are so fucking fucked. Do you think I enjoy this?” he screamed. Juliet is sobbing. She’s covered in the blood of her child and bound to a chair with so escape.

He’s in absolute hysterics by the time Lola arrives with Ania. Seeing Ania, he suddenly remembers that she isn’t just his daughter. She’s Mary’s. Mary Hatford who stole his child away from him in the middle of the night. Mary Hatford who incurred the wrath of the Moriyamas and left him to pick up the pieces. Mary Hatford who’s made his life a misery for the last eight years. In his hysterics, he goes after Ania. He’s going to slit her tendons and skin her alive. He’s going to destroy the one thing Mary Hatford loved.

Fortunately, Stuart shows up and saves the day bc he’s literally the best. When he finds Ania, he finds Juliet too. He unbinds her and tells her that the FBI are coming. She’s too much of a mess to really understand anything at this point so she just kinda lets things happen.

Juliet wakes in a hospital bed to the sound of a girl’s voice arguing with a man. Prying her eyes open, Juliet finds herself in a bed across from a girl who looks very much like the man who impregnated her. She’s screaming and kicking and crying. They nurses inject her with something and she falls asleep. The next time Juliet wakes, the girl is gone. The FBI ask her if she’s got a family and she says she does. They ask her to call them. She calls Gansey.

Rose is laying in Gansey’s bed, messing with a Rubik’s cube while he paces the floor talking about something or the other when the call comes. Gansey’s face pales and Rose knows something is wrong.

“That was Kavinsky,” he said as he hung up. “Get the girls. I’ll call Henry and Declan. We’re leaving. Now.” There was a note of finality to his voice that silenced Rose. She got up and grabbed her jacket as she raced out to find Addy and Blue. The four of them pile into one car with the Lynchs in the other. They make the drive up to Baltimore in silence, swinging by Evermore to grab Declan.

Juliet is empty. There are no tears when the Gangsy and the Lynchs arrive. She doesn’t say anything either. She just extends her arms out to Rose who collapses into them. Rose doesn’t leave Juliet’s side for a long time. Declan and Gansey go to sort things out with the Feds. Addy, Blue, and Henry all stay with Rose and Juliet. No one really knows what to do.

Long story short, Gansey turns up his Southern Charm to a 12 so Juliet can come home with them. Noah doesn’t need a bedroom so he offers it up and Juliet stays at Monmouth for the remainder of the year. She also doesn’t go to school.

Rose wants to help but after their reunion in Baltimore, Juliet refuses to see her. Juliet was tortured because she offered herself in Rose’s place. It’s not that she regrets it, it’s just that seeing Rose reminds her of everything. Henry is the first person Juliet lets in. He’s mastered the art of appearing non-threatening to girls bc he is a kind, considerate young man. Fight me. He also wasn’t a part of the Gangsy when she was taken. He distracts her with the little bee and flowers he finds on the way back from school. Juliet likes letting him drive her around the town at night too. They go out to the mountains and Juliet will scream and curse Nathan’s name until she breaks down. Henry always puts her back together and brings her home. Little by little, he brings her out of her shell and gets her to open up to the other girls too.

It’s a joint effort between Declan and Gansey to set up Juliet’s new living arrangements. With Addy getting into Yale and Blue, Henry, and Gansey’s road trip plans, they don’t want to leave Juliet alone. So Declan calls Jeanie and Gansey calls Rhemann. They arrange for Juliet to move to Cali with Jeanie and join the Trojans. With some gentle coaxing from Henry, Juliet agrees.

Wymack drives Jeanie out to meet Juliet so that the two can fly out together. He meets Rose then. Up until then, Rose was supposed to head to Evermore like every other Aglionby kid. When the headmaster was fired, all plans for college fell through. Rose didn’t want to go to college but she wouldn’t have minded getting to play exy just a little longer. Wymack’s already seen Rose’s file and Gansey pulls him aside after he leaves Jeanie to meet Juliet. It doesn’t take much for Wymack to realize that Rose is prime fox material. She’s seen her father get murdered and watched her mother die. Her elder brother was a violent drunk and was known for raising his fists at her. That’s a Fox if Wymack had ever seen one. He offers Rose a place on the Palmetto line. She’s hesitant but Matt thinks it’s a good idea. Wymack tells her to sleep on it so Rose takes the packet and goes home.

Declan is waiting for her when she arrives. He tells her the truth about Evermore and about the Moriyamas plan. There’s a lot of tears and screaming from Rose. Declan just grabs her and holds her close until most of her rage passes. Declan is getting sent to intense therapy with the rest of the Ravens. Matt is moving up north to be closer to Declan. Even Kavinsky is moving away. What’s Rose going to do? Stay at the Barnes? By herself?

"It's awful lonely out here," Declan said. "Dad had to dream up Mom so he wouldn't be all alone. What are you going to do? Dream a new Parrish? That wouldn't be fair. You'd never love her as much as the real Addy.”

“Maybe I dreamt the first one,” Rose said as she kicked her dangling legs. The two of them were sitting on the roof. Despite the setting sun, it was still unbearably hot. That didn’t stop her from sitting pressed up against her brother. Declan didn’t seem inclined to move away anyway.

Declan snorted and turned a wry smile at her. “No offense, Rosie, but even you couldn’t dream someone as perfect as Adeline Parrish.”

“No. I guess I couldn’t,” Rose replied. She felt the blush creeping down her neck. To Rose, Adeline Parrish was proof that God was real. No one else could have crafted a human so perfect. Or maybe Addy wasn’t human at all. Whatever she might be, Rose loved her with her whole heart. Declan was right. Rose wasn’t going to survive here without Addy. Exy would make a good distraction. Maybe she’d even get to play against Yale and Addy would come watch. Rose had her coach fax the signed papers to Wymack the very next morning.

On the last day of Rose’s summer break, she spent the day beneath Addy, savoring the feel of her calloused hands on every inch of her own exposed skin. She moaned softly as she felt the press of Addy’s lips on her inner thighs. Her hands clawed desperately at her sheets.

“No touching,” Addy murmured.

“I’m not,” Rose whined. She screwed her shut as she felt Addy’s teeth nipping at the area she’s just kissed over. It was too much and too little all at once. “Addy,” she begged. “Addy, please.” Rose could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak. Fortunately, Addy got the message. A gasp slipped past Rose’s lips as she felt Addy’s fingers slip beneath the material of Rose’s boxers.

“You've been such a good girl for me, Rose,” Addy crooned as she trailed lazy kisses up Rose’s body. “I guess you’ve earned the right to touch.” Rose immediately wound her hands in Addy’s hair. “Someone’s desperate.” Rose kissed Addy soundly on the mouth to stop her from talking. If she heard one more word from that damned mouth, she was sure she’d implode.

The next morning, Rose woke to the smell of breakfast. She dragged herself downstairs and assaulted Addy’s face with sleepy kisses. Rose let her feed her breakfast and tugged on a bra and tank top as the screen door banged shut. Today is the day Gansey and the others are leaving for their road trip. Addy is going to stay with Matt, Declan, and Opal until school starts. Rose is going to drive out to Palmetto by herself. After a thousand hugs and a whole twenty minutes of goodbyes, the three cars take off in different directions.

It’s not a long drive out to Palmetto but it’s a lonely one. It’s only been half an hour and Rose already misses everyone. She turns up the murder squash song to drown her thoughts out and makes her way to South Carolina.

She pulls up to the Foxhole Court and finds a girl with hair as red as blood and ices like frozen lakes waiting for her on the hood of a car far more expensive than Rose’s. The sight of her knocks the breath out of Rose’s lungs. Nathania Wesninski, Nathan’s daughter, is here. Shit.

God, that was long! The Raven Girls ask will pick up from here... eventually.

#just a pipe dream #rose lynch #adeline parrish #juliet kavinksy #ania josten #erin minyard #raven girls #fem!andreil #tfc x trc #trc hc #trc au #the foxhole court au #all for the game au #the raven cycle au #the raven boys au #reveal to me your deepest desires

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heartofsnark · 6 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet: Soryu

Note: I’m not gonna lie, a part of me didn’t want to post the rest of these because of the little anon hate I got. But, I spent hours upon hours writing theses for the KBTBB guys and getting so far along with doing it for the characters from another fandom. So, I’m not gonna let it just rot on my computer because people are assholes. I’m still thinking about posting the rest today as well or spacing it out. Also, I’m sorry that I tend to see Soryu a bit more...vanilla than the rest of the guys. I mean he’s definitely not boring or anything, but I see him as more of a soft little sweetheart. Also, that’s a weird way to view a 6ft gun toting mob boss, but here we are.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s a pillow talk kind of guy. There’s just something so comforting and normal about cuddling MC and chatting. He’ll run his fingers absently against their skin, talking about their day or anything really. When he starts to notice them getting sleepy, or he starts to feel it himself, he’ll ask if they want to shower or just sleep. He likes those little moments, it just feels so perfect and relaxing to him.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his arms, his muscles in general are something he’s proud of. He’s in good shape and is strong enough to protect his MC. Before he got with her, he didn’t think much of it, staying in shape was just a necessity for being a mobster. But, now he can’t help but think about how he can help them with his strength, even if it’s just carrying things for her. Or carrying her when she’s tired. A close second fave would probably be his hair, he spend enough time on it after all.

If asked in person, he’d probably try to say something more romantic or dodge the question entirely. But, to be completely honest, he really likes breasts. They feel great to touch and play with. He loves how much softer MC is than him, he likes feeling them press against him when they hug. He feels a sense of comfort when he nuzzles his face into them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He likes cumming on his MC’s tits, he likes tit fucks. It’s a little dirty, but it feels so good. He does like creampies, but he’s a little more reluctant for them. He wasn’t raised in a traditional family, and he never really saw himself having a family. He’s not confident he’d make a good father, so he’s not always willing to take that risk. He’s more likely to pull out and see his partner covered in his cum, or if they don’t want to deal with any mess he’ll use a condom.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Injuries are pretty par for the course for a mobster, so he’s use to just shrugging off whatever happens to him. Tend to them quickly and then move on with his day. After one particularly bad fight, he was a beaten up pretty bad. But, he told MC not to worry and after patching him up, things got romantic. The issue is, he lost more blood than he realized. So when what blood he did have went to his dick, he got light headed and fainted on top of MC during the middle of sex. She was really worried, but he came too (as in regained consciousness) after a bit and assured her he just needed to rest. They babied him for the rest of the night, he felt pretty humiliated.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

One. He has had one experience prior to MC. He has canonically lost his virginity in a life or death situation, god only knows what that means. But, that is the extent of his experience. He never really liked women before and was kind of a misogynist. Plus, he’s always been more preoccupied with his work than romance. He’s thankfully a bit of a natural when he gets together with MC and making them feel good is important to him.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Poor sweet not use to relationships Soryu. While he, like most people, is completely open to different and new positions, he’s a missionary kind of guy. He prefers being on top and making it feel extremely intimate. It’s just his favorite; being as close as possible. Plus, he kinda likes the normalcy of it. Given his life up until getting with his partner, he just really likes appreciating the simpler and normal aspects of being with someone.

Missionary: http://sexpositions.club/positions/67.html

Iris: http://sexpositions.club/positions/91.html

Eagle: http://sexpositions.club/positions/163.html

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s a serious man, he hasn’t exactly indulged in sex a lot. Sex is something that requires trust and makes you vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. So, he wants it be an incredible romantic experience for his partner. He knows damn well he’s not incredibly experienced and he’s already blown away that his partner love him. So, if something does happen that’s kind of stupid or silly and his partner laughs, he’ll feel a bit inadequate and embarrassed. But, with a little coaxing from his partner, he can accept that silly things happen during sex and it’s not a reflection on his abilities. Then he’ll probably manage to smile and laugh at those moments himself.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Same dark blue-black as his hair. His body hair in general tends to grown in thick, but he keeps it trimmed and a bit neat. It sometimes grows out a bit more before he can get to trimming it down, but generally he prefers a neat appearance.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Despite what an outsider might assume, Soryu is a softie when it comes to MC. He’s a romantic, he and his partner have agreed to be honest with each other; for him a part of that honesty is making sure they know they’re loved. And that include verbally. What a sweetie.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Nope. Self-control is very important as far as Soryu is concerned. Before he got with his partner, he never really bothered to even think about sex all that much. He definitely would get urges every now and then, but he’d just distract himself with some sort of work. Now, that he’s with his partner, he’d rather wait until they can be together. The only situation in which is really masturbates is if his partner is involved in some way.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Uniforms/Roleplay is one he really likes. He specifically likes them both being in costumes playing out scenarios and when he can wear a uniform of some sort; just give him an excuse to wear a police uniform, please.

Slight Exhibitionism Kink, this one has formed practically out of necessity. Between the bidders and the Ice Dragons, Inui specifically, having time alone with his partner seems to be a rarity. So, sometimes even when other people are out of the room but just around the corner, he’ll want to love on his partner a bit.

Slight Feeding Kink, his partner’s food (specifically their omelets) has become really special to him. That plus there’s something just so nice and domestic about feeding each other.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bedroom is his go to favorite, he’s happy with the simpler domestic aspects of a relationship, given how he never thought he’d be able to enjoy them. Another close favorite would be the kitchen. He doesn’t know how to do anything else in there. When he’s feeling playful, he likes sneaking up behind a cooking MC and seeing if he can get some loving. Only time their omelettes burn, he’ll still eat them happily though.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing his MC in cheongsams, please. He loves the way his partner looks in them and it becomes very hard for him to resist playing with them.

Strip teases, MC strip teasing for him is a major turn on. It’s simple, but he likes seeing them try so hard to seduce him, even if they really don’t have to. They’ve already got him in the palm of their hand.

Being teased/edged, he does like seeing his partner take some control and the frustration of being toyed with is more than worth it. It drives him crazy.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Pretty basic hard limits; nothing physically dangerous, no heavy kinks, no super gross ones. No; choking, sounding, needles, gunplay, knife play, bloodplay, CBT, electric play, or anything with shit or piss

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He likes giving his partner oral best, though he definitely loves getting head too. He doesn’t have a lot of experience in giving head, but he makes up for it in genuinely liking to do it and enthusiasm. His partner’s pleasure means a lot to him and he wants them to feel good.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He generally prefers a slower more sensual pace, but sometimes, especially when he’s been pent up, he can’t help but get rougher. He usually feels bad and is extra loving after those sessions.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Proper sex is his favorite, but he definitely indulges in quickies. His slight exhibitionist streak is usually reserved for just make out sessions. But, desperate times call for desperate measures and he’ll drag his partner away to have sex. Provided they can evade Inui and the bidders.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He likes a few risks, making out and groping his partner when people are just in the other room. Some Ice Dragons, Inui, have walked in on them getting a little carried away. Kissing and playing around in his office isn’t unheard of either. He likes trying new things, though he can be a little sheepish about bringing it up. He’s always quick to let his partner know that they can say no and there is no obligation to do anything.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s very good at self-control and can last a really long time, he can probably stop himself from cumming when he wants it to last longer. He can cum once or twice before he needs a break.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He definitely doesn’t own any toys before he gets with MC. Once they’re together it kind of depends on her. He’ll definitely be interested in using toys on his MC, but he wouldn’t bother to buy any until he knows his partner is interested as well. He’d also be cool with his partner using some toys on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not a huge tease (At least compared to the other bidders), but he gets his playful moods and moments where he likes to get his partner worked up for fun. He does get some fun out of when he has to end a makeout/groping sessions and his partner looks so dazed/frustrated. Or when he makes them wait to cum and they get desperate. Honestly, on a normal scale he’d be seen as more of a tease, but the bidders set a new standard in this area.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Definitely a grunter. He’s not super vocal, might say fuck when he cums, or gasp, but that’s about it. He’s not a super loud guy in general and if he does make a louder noise, he’s kind of embarrassed.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Now that he has MC after so long of never caring about relationships, he’s a little touch starved. Just small casual touches mean a lot to him; holding hands, putting his hand on their hip, or brushing their hair back. Despite all of his self-control, it’s incredibly easy for his partner to turn him on. When he’s really pent up even small innocent touches send tingles down his spine.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Soryu is a big guy and everything is proportional. He’s around 8.5-9 inches and decent thickness. A few noticeable and sensitive veins run along it. Curves just a bit to the right. MC definitely needs foreplay and prep work to be able to fully take him

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Moderate to high. Before he was with MC he really didn’t think he had much of a sex drive at all. But, now that they’re together he gets turned on so easily that they have sex fairly often. Though he is capable of controlling himself, usually...

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes a while for him to fall asleep in general. Given his life, being relaxed and comfortable enough to fall asleep takes a while. He likes pillow talk and spending time with his partner awake. Once his partner falls asleep, he’ll spend a bit of time stroking their hair and still cuddling them before he lets himself fall asleep.

#kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #soryu oh #kbtbb soryu #oh soryu

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beatricethecat2 · 5 years

Text

if/then (2.0) - 18

This isn't 100% ready and I know it but I've got a lot of work coming up so I'm releasing it into the wild anyway. Slightly more upbeat than the last chapter, but there's still much to resolve. Which will happen in a timely fashion, meaning not a million chapters to go. Typos abound, I will fix later.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

////////////////////////////////

“Hey Claud, I’m coming up. Text me or something if you’re there, ok?” Myka pushes through the front doors and stands inside, waiting for a reply. She smiles at the front desk guy, then looks down at her phone. Nothing yet, just like every other message she’s left this week.

“Hey Doug, you seen Claudia today?”

“Uh-uh,” the front desk guy says. "First shift back from vacation. Want me to ask Tony?” He picks up his walkie-talkie.

“That’s ok, I’ll just go up,” Myka says, scuttling past him as the elevator doors open. Two people step out as she walks in. She taps the button for Claudia’s floor and checks her phone again. No new message, but she really needs her stuff.

Claudia should be home as it’s late for a school night...but wait, it’s not, it’s Friday already. Maybe they're eating out or at a movie, or watching a movie at home. Or maybe Claudia's so miffed she won’t pick up the phone.

Claudia's police station antics are still a conundrum, they could have been for show or totally sincere. She has no clue what Helena told her as after the group interview, she didn’t see either of them again. If she could have talked to them before she left, she'd feel more confident moving forward.

Claudia’s buzzer rings and rings, so she waits for a beat then knocks twice. She tries her key card and the indicator glows green, thankfully, as she was worried Claudia already changed the code. Dewy whooshes out the instant the door opens. She drops her bag and rushes after him.

“You don’t want to go down there,” she says, scooping him up near the stairs, holding on tightly as he squirms. She wedges her foot in the door and pushes it open then crouches down to pick up her bag. Dewy wriggles free, but she blocks his second escape, swinging her bag to shoo him in.

“Claudia? Christina?” she calls and waits for a reply then pokes her head into bedrooms and the terrace.

“Where’s your moms?” she says to Dewy as he rubs up against her leg. He's purring so loudly she can hear him clearly. She glances his bowl, it’s empty. He must be hungry.

“Let's get you some dinner, mister,” she says and walks into the kitchen. Its surfaces are oddly clean, but the cat food cabinet is its usual mess. She sets a bag on the counter then grabs Dewy’s bowl to give it a good cleaning. The sink is devoid of dishes, which highly unusual as they often linger for days. She checks the fridge, it's also sparse, but maybe Claudia hasn’t gone shopping. That's not as unusual as an empty sink.

Myka snaps back to her task as Dewy mews plaintively. He hops up on the counter as she opens the bag of food. “Dewy, chill!” Myka says and swipes him to the floor. He’s way more anxious than usual.

She strokes his head as he eats and rubs behind his ears, his purrs vibrating so vigorously they travel up her fingers. Such good cat, she thinks, so good-natured, and mostly well behaved. We’re lucky to have him, even if he is a little dumb.

She looks across the living room at her corner, then traipses across and into the space. There's far too much stuff to take in one go, so she starts plucking out what she needs for now.

A picture of Helena hangs on the wall but a corner has popped free and it flaps to and fro. She peels it off and drags a finger over Helena’s likeness, then sits on the bed, drinking in Helena’s warm smile.

“Would it be bad for you if I see them? I want to know if they’re ok, but I don’t want mess this up for any of us.” Second guessing her movements is already difficult. Subterfuge isn’t her strong point.

Dewy bounds into the room and jumps on the bed. He sits on his hindquarters and chirp-mews at her insistently.

“What do you want?” Myka asks as he smushes his head against her side, then drags his body back and forth. She rubs his head again and sighs, then swings her legs onto the bed. It's ok to say for a few minutes longer than needed, so she lies down.

“You’re lucky, Dewy. You can't fall in love. At least not the way humans do.” She holds the photo up in front of her, what a lovely day that was, laughing and lounging at the beach. Her heart swells, she really does love Helena more than she ever imagined possible.

Dewy headbutts her cheek then abruptly flops on his side. She lays the photo on her chest and turns her head to look at him.

“She did this all for me, you know, but you don’t know that means. I should be thankful, but…" She reaches over and scratches Dewy’s belly. "I can’t stop thinking about Bonnie.”

Dewy claws her wrist, lightly, as a warning. Myka yanks her hand away.

“Yeah, exactly. I don't know if I can trust her. But she’s helping me, I guess. She’s supposedly an ally.” She looks at the photo again. It was taken during their trip to Shelter Island, when they were pretending everything would be ok. If Helena knew then that Mrs. Frederic planned to frame her, was she already in cahoots with Bonnie? Was Bonnie’s price a roll in the hay or is that the jealous girlfriend she’s been groomed into talking?

Dewy stands up and turns in a circle, then lowers himself down, smooshing his back into Myka’s middle. She scratches under his chin and turns on her side, pulling her knees up and hunching over to spoon him.

“She wouldn’t do that to us, would she?” Dewy’s purrs soar as she rubs behind his ears. What lengths would Helena have gone to spare her? She skims her hand over Helena’s pillow, smoothing a non-existent head print and closes her eyes, summoning Helena's form.

Helena often laid awake for hours as the clock ticked toward her departure. On those days, Myka would nudge her on her side and spoon her from behind. She'd bury her nose into the bend of her neck, letting her warm breath graze over Helena's skin. When Helena'd let out a whimper, she’d press her lips into her shoulder until Helena would roll over and kiss her back. And then quickly, but quietly, their bodies would meet, instinctively quelling each others lingering anxieties.

In comparison to now, those times seem simple; if only being deported was the worst of their fears. It’s not fair their last night in Poland was fraught resentment and that she’d wasted precious time being angry. Or that she has no idea where or how Helena is or how she’s ever going to gain her freedom.

Dewy rises and blinks as she shifts to lie flat. He then settles comfortably into her armpit. She circles an arm around him as he lets out a huge yawn. She yawns reflexively, then scratches his head.

“I wish I could stay and nap with you,” she says as Dewy lays his head on his paws. “But I don’t want to scare your moms when they get home. And…I probably shouldn’t be here.” Myka turns to leave but Dewy lays a paw on her arm. She slips it free. “Sorry, little dude. Say hi to them for me?”

She plucks Helena’s photo off of the bed. "I hope you're ok,” she says to Helena's likeness, then tucks it into her bag.

----------------

As Myka waits for her Uber, her phone rings.

“Steve, hey.” She’d called earlier to ask if he’d seen Claudia.

"You’re back!”

“I’m back.”

“Claudia’s back, too?”

“She should be.”

“Great! So we don’t have to feed Dewy anymore.”

“You’re still feeding him?” A car pulls up to the curb. There's an Uber logo its window so she waves and points toward the trunk. "Hang on a sec,” Myka says as she throws in her overfilled tote and garment bag into the car. She slams it shut then climbs into the back seat.

“Ok, back,” she says, but gets no reply. “Steve?” She pulls the door closed and checks her screen; no service. She waves the phone to the left and the right but gets no bars.

“No use,” the driver says while driving away. “Dead zone."

“There're no dead zones in New York,” Myka snips, scrolling through her settings and tapping buttons. She glances at the driver, her voice is familiar, but all she can see is fair hair bunched up underneath a blue baseball cap. “Hey, your not...” She consults her app but the phone won't connect. “I thought my driver was a dude.”

“Change of plan,” the woman says, continuing to drive. At a red light, she turns to face Myka. “You and I need to talk.”

There’s a thunk as Myka’s phone drops to the floor. “B-B-Bonnie?” The quintessentially American accent threw her off.

“Morgana Kurlansky, Interpol,” Morgana says, extending a hand over the seat. “Though I heard you already knew that."

"I, um, yeah?" Myka takes her hand and shakes it, limply. Morgana’s tone is deeper than her European one, but just as brusque.

"This has gotten way out of hand. We're doing our best to fix it." Morgana turns back to the street and drives away.

“Is Helena in jail?” is the first thing Myka thinks to ask.

“House arrest, held for further questioning. Bargaining for leniency as we speak.”

“That’s a relief. Have you seen her?"

“No, Bonnie Belski can’t. The cops don’t know who I really am. But she’s not alone, her daughter and her friend are there with her.”

“Christina and Claudia?”

“They’re under our protection. Potential collateral damage. MacPherson’s a threat, but Mrs. Frederic's our main concern. We’re worried she'll use Christina to force Helena’s hand.”

“No,” Myka says, shaking her head. “No. She wouldn’t do that, would she?”

“There’s no limit to what she might do.” Morgana glances at Myka in the rearview mirror. The sincerity in her eyes is frightening.

“How can I help?”

“Stick to the story. Keep acting scorned. Play dumb. You did a great job in the police station.”

“So did you,” Myka says, her mood suddenly souring. “You and Helena, did you really…you know. You said you had proof.”

“What do you think?” Morgana snaps.

“I don’t know.” Myka narrows her eyes.

“Everything Helena’s done has been to keep you in the clear. Do you think she'd go that far?”

“No.” Myka looks down at her hands.

“She loves you. Remember that. But it's better for you if you don't know.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Go with your gut."

More cryptic bullshit. Great.

They drive in silence for a few moments, then Morgana speaks up. “We have eyes on you, but stay on your toes. Has anyone at work asked about your trip?”

“Just about my show and Thanksgiving.”

“Even Vanessa?”

“I’ve barely seen her.”

“Hm. Steering clear until there's a verdict. None of this is public yet.”

“I know, I’ve looked.” Myka waits for Morgana to continue, but she doesn't. “How long will this last?"

“No one knows. But there's a contingency plan if things go further south.”

“What about Christina’s school? And Kenpo? And drum lessons?”

“We’re taking care of it.”

“Steve and Liam? Claudia’s neighbors?”

“Claudia will be in touch."

“And if Steve asks me what happened? What do I say?"

“For authenticity, you should—”

“Yeah, I get it.” Myka waves a hand dismissively. She sees it now, why Morgana won't tell her the truth. She looks out the window, but doesn’t focus on anything. Acting the part of a scorned lover doesn’t appeal to her at all.

The car pulls over to the curb.

“Do you really work or Interpol?” Myka asks.

Morgana nods.

“And the other stuff? Was Claudia right?”

Morgana looks over her shoulder but her eyes offer no answer.

“Fine.” Myka unlatches the door. She's not sure she can handle the truth right now anyway.

“Remember what I’ve said. And be mindful about what you say,” Morgana warns. “This is a critical stage; we all have to play our parts. Everyone’s looking for faults, especially Mrs. Frederic. Be extra careful if she contacts you."

The remark hits Myka hard; she trusted Mrs. Frederic unconditionally. It’s still foreign that Mrs. Frederic wants to hurt her and the ones she loves. “They’re all ok, right?” She looks back at Morgana.

“As far as I know, they’re fine,” Morgana says, her tone softening. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer, but I’ll be in touch whenever I can.”

Myka nods and opens the door, then walks toward her building.

“Hey, your stuff,” Morgana calls.

“Right, stuff,” Myka repeats. The trunk pops open but suddenly her stuff is no longer important.

---------------

As December crawls to a close, Myka’s worry morphs into a dull, constant pang. She obsessively checks for news but finds none. She avoids talking to friends, especially Abigail, as she's the hardest person to lie to. There's no way she can navigate this for months on end.

For the holidays, she visits her family as she's done every year. There’s little mention of Helena, except from her sister, who begs for details about her relationship. She concocts a story about visas and compromise, unable to tell the lie in full. Tracy seems to buy it, enough for her to drop it, at least until after the celebrations are over.

On Christmas afternoon, she hides upstairs, looking through boxes her mom said to "take back with her." Nothing strikes her as worth keeping, though lukewarm memories of school hijinks momentarily displace thoughts of Helena’s whereabouts.

When her phone buzzes, she startles. The number's oddly long but her gut tells her to answer.

“Hello?”

“Happy Christmas! Did you know they say that here instead of Merry Christmas?"

“Christina?”

"In Welsh it’s Nadolaig Llawen. Mom’s been teaching me.”

“Nadolay…what?” Christina’s last word sounded like a phlemy version of “lawn".

“But everyone on TV says Happy Christmas. And the Queen gave a speech to address 'her royal subjects!’ Mom said I’m one of them, but Aunt Claudia's not because she’s American.”

“There was a war. A revolutionary one. So yeah.” Myka's voice cracks as a swell of relief overtakes her. Plus Christina mimicking the Queen was the cutest thing ever.

“We opened Christmas crackers and mine had a hat, a bracelet and a joke. Who delivers presents to baby sharks at Christmas?”

“I don’t know.”

"Santa Jaws!” Christina cracks up laughing. “Oh, oh, and we made fruitcake. Mom said the store-bought ones were gross but the one we made was kinda gross, too.”

“I’ve never had fruitcake.”

"Don't."

A mumbly voice sounds in the background. Christina says “ok.”

“Mom wants to talk to you.”

“I want to talk to her too.”

“I wish you were here.”

“So do I.”

“Merrrrry Christmaaaaas!” Christina says, her words fading away as the phone is passed on.

“Hello, Myka,” Helena says and those two words, in that rich, velvety voice, make Myka's insides melt. She swallows back a sob before answering.

“D-Does this mean that you’re...”

“I’m afraid not. There’s been little movement since we last spoke. All that fanfare for such little gain.”

"How are you calling?

“Many strings were pulled. And a tantrum may have occurred in front of several key officers. Not by Christina.”

“Oh my.” Myka pictures a distraught Helena pleading with suits while Claudia's concocting a covert communication scheme in the background.

“I assume you're at your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Where are you?”

“How are you coping?” Helena says.

Deflecting already. “I’m…” Should she tell her this lie’s been eating away at her soul, that waking up every day without them is torture? “I’m ok, I guess. But it sucks, not knowing where you are or how you are.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This is my fault, not yours. You did this for me.” The weight of that's still sinking in. "It’s hard to be here without you."

“But you must."

“I’m trying.” Myka tears up, speaking the truth after bottling it is overwhelming. “I, um…I got that residency, in LA. I’m going in February. Unless you think I shouldn't.”

Helena sniffs in before continuing, she must be affected, too. “Go on. Focus on your work. Put this behind you if you can.”

“What if you come back while I’m gone?”

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“But it’s already been a month. How long will this take?”

“As long as it needs to, so we all may be safe.”

“I know. It’s just...” Myka pushes a box of out of the way and flops back on the bed. “I’m being encouraged, 'for appearances,' to move to LA.”

“By whom?”

“By Morgana.”

“You’ve spoken?”

“Briefly. Twice.”

“I asked her to watch over you.”

“So you think I should?”

“If she thinks it’s best, perhaps consider it. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

"Charlotte and Bennett are moving to London, so I have to move anyway. And Vanessa introduced me to a museum there looking for a new registrar.”

“Ah. If she hands you off, you’re no longer her problem. I imagine she’s keeping her distance, riddled with guilt.”

“Maybe, yeah, I don’t know. It’s been weird at work in general.” Everyone keeps giving her sad, concerned looks, and she’s worried they know more than they're saying. "A fresh start might be good. I’ve never been to LA. I might hate it.”

“It’s awfully showy.”

“When this is over you’ll come back New York, right? I want to be here when you do.”

“Claudia will be back eminently, but Christina and I…”

“Christina and you what?"

“Christina and I will be moving on after the holidays.”

“Moving where?”

“Somewhere safe."

“You'll call me when you get there.”

“There'll be strict rules, once we’re settled.”

“Once you're settled? Settled where? Like witness protection?”

Helena’s silence is answer enough.

“For how long?” Myka yelps. “God, I sound like a broken record."

“We'll miss you terribly if that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Someday you’ll stop saying that. You’ll be able to stop saying that.”

“One can only hope."

“Does Christina know what's going on?”

“She understands as much as an eight-year-old can.”

“She’s almost nine. Nine! I’ll miss her birthday. I don’t want to miss her birthday.”

“You’ll be there in spirit.”

There's mumbling in the background.

“Please, not yet,” Helena says.

More mumbling.

“They’re saying I must go. The line’s unstable.” As if on cue, the line crackles.

“Helena?”

“I’m here.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christma—“

“Helena. Helena!” There’s a click then dead air. “I love you,” she whispers as if the phrase will reach Helena anyway.

"Who you talking to, sis?” Tracy says from the door.

Myka jerks upright. “I, um...Abigail. Her family’s driving her nuts.”

“Join the club,” Tracy says and rolls her eyes. She walks into the room and sits on the bed. “Mom’s going to have a coronary if you don’t come down soon.”

“Was she calling me?”

“Duh. Like a zillion times.”

Myka hangs her head but doesn’t move. Tracy circles and arm around her.

“It’s a big one, huh? Got your heart broken didn’t you?”

Myka shakes her head.

“You’ll get over it. You always do.” Tracy pulls Myka close.

“Thanks, Trace.” Myka leans into her sister. Her words are comforting, though she doesn’t know the truth.

“Soooo...Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Ted went to Graceland this year. Keep them talking; that might get us through dinner in one piece.”

-TBC-

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fan fiction #if/then #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #I'm trying to piece together a trail of clues I left along the way #ones I didn't know I needed but they are mighty handy now #not in this chapter necessarily #but coming up #I may even finish this story before winter is over #(what's that - you say winter hasn't started yet?#-exactly....)

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qwsadhfkcgfufd · 3 years

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In fact, he was too . I’ve loved you with every drop of my blood

In fact, he was too . I’ve loved you with every drop of my blood. The noble mission to educate (and entertain) visitors about the free press won be free, however.. This is your loss.. The passages were clogged with troops: armored knights in woolen surcoats and fur cloaks, men-at-arms with spears across their shoulders, archers carrying unstrung bows and sheaves of arrows, freeriders, grooms leading warhorses. Abroad was like a country of its own, the place from which impressive things emanated: gold bracelets, Colgate toothpaste, corned beef in cans. I could scarcely believe my eyes. I've been watching the game since 1971 and played competitively for 40 years champ, and I could swing, seam AND cut the ball around plenty so maybe I bottines cloutees femme do have a clue. A very anxious king, who did not wholly trust his son, nor his wife, nor his Hand, a friend of his youth puma red bull racing evo cat ii who had grown arrogant and overproud. 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heavymetalhexcode · 6 years

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Paladin Character Analysis

Here I am once again where I should be doing something productive yet thinking about Voltron. I am hyped for season 5! The thing on my mind today is an analysis of the Voltron crew’s personalities, largely viewed through the ways I can relate to them (or not). Each character is very archetypal, but I think the show does a reasonable job of throwing in a bit more complexity, allowing a lot of very different people to see different qualities that they admire or possess. That's how people decide they like fictional characters, after all. I've ordered this list roughly in order of how much I identify with or think I understand each person.

More after the cut. Much more.

Lance

Water. This is my element. It ebbs and flows, displaying equal gentleness and strength as befits the situation, and Lance has proven he is a versatile member of the team. The scene where he told Coran he misses rain really stuck with me – rain on the roof is possibly the most relaxing sound I can think of.

He's fun and lighthearted, often cracking jokes and trying to make the others smile. I find humor is often the best way for me to deal with stress or grief. Immediately upon coming out of the cryo pod, he makes a joke about Allura asking him on a date – and yes, I do believe that was a joke -- which shifts the tone of the conversation away from grievous injury. In the space mall, he jumps to help Pidge find the money for the game console so they could have something fun to do in the Castle. The blue lion is probably the most welcoming and friendly of the bunch, something that I strive to be despite being kind of terrible at dealing with people, and I'm sure that my first flight in a lion would have looked a lot like his. Despite putting up a front of confidence and cheer, he's insecure about his role on the team. It's only after he receives explicit recognition from his idol Shiro that he begins to feel confident in his skills. Even then he still has doubts, so much so that he offers to step aside for Allura.

Overcompensating. Absolutely. He likes girls, sure, but he's also way too overt about it. It's possible that he really is just that flirty, but I think he's overplaying it to draw attention away from something else, either intentionally or not. It could be that he's still figuring out or uncomfortable with his sexuality (there's just enough Klance chemistry that I would believe it if the show went that way), but it might just be that he's being loud, boisterous, and obnoxious to draw attention away from the fact that he's not always a carefree party boy. It's hard to say right now, but I bet we'll be getting some clues down the line. Personally I like the idea of a bi character on Voltron, and Lance fits the mold for someone still in the closet.

Lance's self-care routine is an awesome inversion of typical gender roles. I think he and Hunk (cooking) are the only ones we've seen with noteworthy feminine-coded interests, and you know who's not about that "girly" life? Pidge! Allura is more typically effeminate than Pidge, which is fine, but I love that not being the only kind of femininity we see on the crew. It can be hard for a guy to accept having feminine interests, and Lance being comfortable doing so shows that either a) he really cares about making a good impression and strives to be well groomed or b) he don't give a shit what you think and will pamper himself if he wants. Possibly both.

Pidge

Nature! Technology! It seems conflicted! I'm a computer scientist who loves to unplug for a few days and go hiking or whatever. These two seemingly opposite interests in a person can absolutely blend, and it was great to see her realize that on Olkarion.

Machines > people. One of the primary reasons I decided to become a programmer, and I'm pretty sure the same is at least partly true for Pidge. She was a misfit at school because she was driven to learn (and possibly some other stuff), made fun of for her intelligence, and appears to have withdrawn from people to work on computers. I didn't have to deal with a lot of that, and I'm very thankful for the environment I had in my schools growing up. She needed the team to help draw her out of her shell, and now her friends are a surrogate family. Apparently, a lot of people like to characterize her as ace because she's a nerd, and while I agree with the ace bit, I argue it's actually the other way around. Computers don't ostracize you because they don't understand you. Computers won't mock you or tell you that you just "haven't found the right person yet." I know some ace folks who have told me what it's like to grow up with that crap, and I'm not surprised Pidge gave up on people. I also headcanon her as trans, which is yet another possible source of social issues. That bathroom moment at the mall? Very telling.

The way she reacts to alien technology may look over the top, but let me tell you, an elegantly written algorithm is one of the most beautiful things in the universe. AI is exciting! The materials are exciting! There's so much shiny technology to explore out there!

Shiro

He is in his 30s. I will fight you. I know it's only supposed to be an age gap of a few years, but his appearance, behavior, and voice all make me believe he is older than canon.

Good lord, this man needs a therapist! Shiro is so busy supporting the rest of the team and helping them through the zillion difficult situations this war has gotten them into that he hasn't taken time to deal with his own demons. He needs that. He's put things behind him, sure, and we're not seeing his PTSD so much anymore, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. He managed to shove it all away in a corner and stop looking at it. It'll be interesting to see what Sendak's return does to his mental health. Poor Space Dad.

Shiro is my favorite paladin. Hands down. I'm very drawn to dad figures, and he's attractive to boot. He's confident, a quick thinker, and does a remarkable job keeping emotions in check and leading with logic without being perfect. We get to see that even he has his limits with Slav and Sendak. He supports his team, knows their strengths, and doesn't force anyone to do things they don't want to. We've seen gallows humor from him as well as bad sound effects, and when he thinks he might die, he names his replacement to be sure that the team won't feel lost when he's gone. I'm also pretty sure he and I handle emotional stress in similar ways: poorly.

On the subject of stress as relates to shipping, I have thoughts. Shiro is hurting hard, and he needs someone he feels close enough to that he can confide his pain in them. I've been in a similar situation (to a lesser degree), pushing things away and bottling emotions up until it did very bad things for me. It took the kind of trust I could only form with my SO to start learning how to lean on someone else, and even now, years later and in a much better place, I can only think of three people I consider confidants. (Yes, I am absolutely projecting here, but) I wouldn't be surprised if Shiro has similar difficulties opening up. There isn't anyone he feels comfortable talking to yet, and he might need a stronger bond than the one between friends and teammates before he can. Unfortunately for our black paladin, I have a hard time picturing him with anyone currently available. The age/maturity gap that I can't get over immediately rules out the younger paladins. Besides, they're his kids. If Shiro is going to get into a relationship, he needs someone who can give him the kind of support he extends to everyone else, not someone who looks up to him like a father figure. Next choice? Allura, but they're both too focused on the war. They've got bigger things to worry about than dating, and neither will probably even think about such things until after they've won. Maybe a someday option, but not now. Coran? Just... no. Despite needing a deeper relationship in a bad way, I think Shiro is too private, focused, and traumatized right now to even think about it.

Can I just say I love watching him fight? It's beautiful. He's very fast, fluid, and in the other guy's face. Always very well animated, too.

Hunk

I love Hunk. Dude's awesome. He reminds me a lot of my sister: obsessed with food, just wants to be comfy, a little high strung when things don't go according to plan. No wonder he and Lance are bros. Not a lot of character depth for him yet, which makes me sad. Seems like Hunk is mostly played for laughs, so I appreciate that he was suspicious of Rolo and Nyma instead of any of the others. Of course, Hunk is also pretty stable as a person, so he's not in need of as much growth as the rest of the paladins. He's a solid grounding presence (ha ha) for them.

Keith

Keith is... difficult. I have a hard time getting into his head. He's a rebel; I'm not really. His anger is hot; I think mine is cold. He needs to figure out his family to know who he is; I couldn't do that until I got away from mine. He obviously cares about his teammates, and they're probably the closest thing to a functional family he's ever had. I wish we had gotten to see him struggle and grow more in a leadership role. While he is too reckless to be a good leader, the consequences of those disastrous first missions should have helped him do better. Instead there was an irritating time skip and OH YEAH KEITH'S TOTES IN THE BLADE. I wish that time had been handled better.

That said, he's doing well in the Blade. I like him there. There's more room for personal responsibility and the snap decision making that he likes to do. It's letting him stay in his comfort zone instead of pushing him to improve like leading Voltron would have, so pros and cons, but that was not a role that suited him. He'll find opportunities that are better for him. Even after real Shiro comes back and they beat the stuffing out of Kuron, I think staying with Marmora would be better for Keith.

Allura

I WISH SHE HAD MORE DEVELOPMENT. This gal kicks ass. I love her. She's not your standard princess in some ways, but she's also been their magic plot device more than once. Alteans are chameleons? Let's see that referenced again, please! The Balmera thing? Sweet, but I wish we knew more about that too. Is that a royal thing only? Could Coran do a ceremony? Probably not to save the whole creature, but I don't see why he wouldn't be able to do it on a smaller scale. Haggar/Honerva does magic stuff, too, which either tells us magic isn't just a royal thing or it's a result of messing with quintessence. Hard to say.

The mice? Much Disney princess. Such wow. Useful little buggers, though.

She really is the heart of Voltron, and she's the commander of the war effort as well. Devoted as hell. She killed her dad a second time for the war. She got (partly) over her Galra grudge for the war. She's been a diplomat, a support pilot, and a paladin for the war. Allura is cool.

Coran

He's the goofy uncle whose prime function is watching out for Allura. Flair for the dramatic. Not really much to say here. Nice 'stache.

#voltron #too much time on my hands #character analysis

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takaraphoenix · 6 years

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OK OK OK So I really really fell in love with your Helios x Apollo story and I've been toying with asking you about writing a small thing about Helios' reaction to Zeus banishing Apollo? And what he does about it. Or just his reaction to Zeus /trying/ to banish Apollo. A sort of fix-it-so-it-never-happens type thing. Totes get you're bogged down with stuff so if you don't have time that's totally okay. If you do decide to do it, could I get it by January 4th?

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || (You are here)|| The whole thing on AO3

Helios was exhausted.

His duties were straining in on themselves, but in the past years in particular. After all, his lover was very busy with Olympian duties - mainly so related to his prophetic gifts. So Helios, being the good, caring boyfriend he was, of course took over some of his lover’s duties. Mainly the sun-related ones.

Only that his duties had been very straining and distracting lately. Especially the closer the Giant War drew. Helios hated that. He wished to stand by his lover’s side, have Apollo’s back.

Apollo had smiled sweetly at him, those mismatched eyes sparkling brightly as he had leaned up on his tip-toes to kiss Helios’ cheek and then shove him hard.

His little sunshine was a fighter, not just a lover. Helios knew that. Of course did he know that. The only one matching him with a bow and arrow was his twin-sister Artemis. Apollo could hold himself in a fight if he had to.

That didn’t mean Helios wanted him in the middle of a fight though. A war no less.

Yet this one… was different.

Gods loved using demigods as pawns. But this war required the gods to also fight themselves. To slay the Giants at the demigods’ side.

Helios trusted his sunshine. He knew Apollo would be fine during the war. And now that the war was over, Helios was looking forward to embracing his lover again, just grab Apollo, take him home and live in peace for a century or two.

Maybe take some time off to spend in Alfheim? They did have this cozy little vacation home there… It would be nice. And Apollo surely would be happy to spend more time with his best friend Frey. That might sway Apollo.

And to be honest, that idea wasn’t so spontaneous. Helios had spent the past few weeks preparing said vacation home, making it as homey as possible for his love. Apollo deserved the rest.

“Helios, my dear, old friend.”

Helios paused. He didn’t turn around. That sweet voice, like poisoned honey. A scowl etched its way onto his face as he took a deep breath to turn around and give Loki Laufeyson a piece of his mind. Said piece of mind was stuck in his throat when he noticed that Loki wasn’t alone.

“Hel Lokisdatter. A rare pleasure, milady”, stated Helios, voice very soft as he bowed.

He knew to respect a king or queen when he met them, regardless what pantheon they were from. Hel offered him the smallest smile in return, a shy one. Her long hair fell into her face, covering the rotting half and only revealing the beautiful one. Her dress, long sleeves on one side, a glove that reached all the way up to her shoulder in addition to it. She half hid behind her father and Loki, as always, stood in a protective stance in front of his only daughter.

The trickster had a pleased half-smirk on his face as he regarded Helios curiously, fingers playing with his well-groomed goaty as he tilted his head. It were his eyes that had always unsettled Helios, if he was being honest. Green as poison, shimmering silver with lies and danger.

Helios stood straight, looking at the two Norse gods curiously. What were they doing in Alfheim? Loki preferred… Well, none really, he was always everywhere - wherever he could cause most mischief. But Hel? The queen of Helheim? Why would the Ice Queen seek the realm of the sun god? Helios could see how clearly uncomfortable the goddess was, looking a bit red-cheeked there.

“Listen, this isn’t a favor for you, Titan”, stated Loki, voice unusually serious.

“A favor?”, echoed Helios surprised. “What do you want, lie smith?”

Helios was startled as Loki threw a golden apple at him. Helios blinked slowly, eyes wide as he stared at the holy fruit. The immortality granting fruit, guarded by the Goddess Iduna for all the gods and pantheons (though she had gardeners assisting her from all the pantheons too. The Hesperides from the Graeco-Romans, for example). Not many knew that ambrosia, the food of the gods that granted them immortality, was actually made, among other ingredients, of the golden apples.

“Father speaks the truth”, pieped Hel up, looking displeased. “That’s why I’m here. I know how unreasonably unrealistic that statement is.”

“Hey. A bit more respect for your old man”, grunted Loki with a glare.

Hel gave him a deadpan look before returning her attention to Helios once more. “Your Olympians have decided to strip one of your own off his immortality. Your king couldn’t make that decision without Hades knowing. After all, a god now runs the danger of being killed and dying. And, well, when I was in the park with my puppy Garm last week, we walked with Hades and Zerberus for a while and he mentioned it. And when I heard who…”

Helios didn’t like where this was going. He gripped the apple tighter. Loki’s smirk grew more knowing and wicked. Helios had the urge to throw the apple into his pretty face.

“My dear daughter told me and I could not let it stand like that”, drawled Loki. “I mean, he is my best friend’s favorite brother. Hermes would be quite unbearable if something happened to precious Apollo.”

“Then why not go to Hermes?”, asked Helios, still suspicious.

“Ah”, grunted Loki with a careless shrug. “Daddy issues. You know the guy can’t go up agains Zeus. You? A Titan? This could be… entertaining.”

Helios gritted his teeth and averted his eyes to stare at the floor. Loki and Hel remained for a long stretch of silence. He really didn’t like Loki - mainly because Loki and Apollo had kind of a fling prior to Helios and Apollo getting together. Helios wasn’t a fan of how much Loki enjoyed reminding him of this.

“Thank you, Loki. You… have my grattitude”, grunted Helios out unwillingly. “You too, Queen Hel.”

The self-satisfied smile on Loki’s face made Helios really want to throw the apple. “My, it would be a shame if something so pretty would be wasted. Just… take care of this, Titan.”

“I will, Eldojotun”, replied Helios sharply, watching with satisfaction how Loki flinched.

The Aes did not like being reminded that his status as a god was an earned one and that, foremost, he was still a born Fire Giant. Loki sneered at him briefly before returning to his charming smile.

“Very well then. Come along, sweetie. Grandma invited us for tea and cake”, declared Loki, waving a dismissive hand in Helios’ general direction.

“Oh! Grandma Laufey makes the best cakes. Bye, Helios”, chimed Hel, seemingly far more motivated by that prospect.

With that, the two Norse gods disappeared. Leaving Helios with his apple.

“W–Who in the world…?”, grunted a startled teenager.

The boy, with messy black hair, stared up at Helios with surprised, sea-green eyes. Helios only spared the human one glance before turning to the one in the boy’s company. A scowl found its way onto Helios’ face as he threw the golden apple at his boyfriend. Apollo smiled brighter than the sun as he caught it.

“Oh! Wonderful. Early rescue. Just started wondering where our new little dynamic duo was going to head next to solve this little… problem of mine”, chimed Apollo happily, rubbing the apple against his robes. “Huh. Those things are not handed out easily. Iduna is possessive of them. How did you…?”

“A thief dropped it off”, growled Helios and grabbed Apollo by the arm. “Come.”

“…I don’t like it when you’re angry”, noted Apollo dubiously. “Are you… angry with me?”

“No”, replied Helios, the growl growing darker as the sky above them clouded over. “Someone else. I’m glad you’re fine, my love.” His voice grew gentler at that as he cupped Apollo’s cheek and checked him for injuries before turning toward the human. “Thank you, for protecting my sunshine. I am indebted to you. If any god gives you a hard time again, call for Helios and I will stand by your side.”

“A free favor from a god. That’s a new one. Cool.”

Apollo wrapped one arm aroung Helios’ neck, the other hand still holding the apple as he brought it up to his rosy lips and took a large bite from it. To grand immortality, one needed a whole apple. The tiny bit that was mushed into the ambrosia was enough to keep the immortality going for the gods, but it would never be enough to restore Apollo’s godhood. Apollo yelped as Helios teleported them away.

The sky around Olympus darkened as though night had come early. Zeus frowned confused. He knew Helios was taking care of the sun - it was the main reason why he had even gotten his punishment for Apollo through.

“How dare you”, roared an angry, dark voice.

Zeus sat up straighter on his throne as the Sun Titan materialized in front of him, looking like a vicious, avenging angel. There were still many Titans around and the general rule of thumb was to perhaps not anger them. They were ancient and also powerful in most cases. Zeus blinked as he spotted his son behind Helios. The son Zeus had only just banished from Olympus.

“Apollo”, growled Zeus in warning.

“No”, hollered Helios.

“You broke an Oath of Styx twice, siring two demigods.

You interfered and turned one of them into a tree to cheat Death himself.

You are the king and were responsible to keep things such as Tartarus secure yet you allowed for your Father to reform and nearly overthrow you.

You let a teenage boy steal your symbol of power.

You let your son Ares allign himself with Kronos during the Titan War without repercussions.

You let your wife make a fool out of you by playing with the memories of the heroes and having Romans and Greeks mingle, single-handedly throwing all of Olympus into an identity crisis that very well nearly cost you all your lives and this war.

And yet here you are, acting like you are the one, true king who does no wrong. Punishing Apollo for… What exactly did he do wrong? He has helped your little pawns during both wars. He has done his best to restore the Oracle after it had been lost because you had to anger Lord Hades.”

Helios had stalked up to Zeus and by now was lifting the young god up by his throat, a nasty expression on Helios’ face as he squeezed. No amount of thundering and sparks was going to get Zeus out of the supernova-hot burning fury of a Sun Titan.

“You will never lay a hand on Apollo again or you will find yourself right down there alongside your father”, growled Helios in warning. “Believe me, no one is pleased with you and Hera anymore. The past handful of years alone have proven what incapable rulers you have become. You allowed not one, not two, but four major wars to happen right under your nose within the last century alone. And so far, the only thing keeping from a revolution is that everyone is still licking their wounds. But so help me Chaos herself, if you ever lay hand on Apollo again, I will personally throw the first speer.”

Zeus looked positively mortified as Helios just dropped him. Still glowering, Helios went to his lover and picked Apollo up bridal-style before teleporting them to Alfheim. Apollo blinked dazed up at him as he slowly oriented himself.

“That was… really fucking hot”, grunted Apollo stunned. “My knight in golden-shining armor.”

Grinning and batting his eyelashes playfully, Apollo pulled Helios down into a kiss. “We’re taking a vacation. Right now.”

“No arguments from me, babe”, hummed Apollo pleased.

THE END

So you caught me on the right foot there. Because I just got back from seeing Thor: Ragnarok and I needed some comfort. Fics are comfort. And I found a nice way of including Hel and Loki in this too. Pleased by that. I hope this was the kind of comfort you were looking for too there? ;)

#story: the birth of musica #helios x apollo #helios #apollo #percy jackson and the olympians #Loki Friggason #hel #greek mythology #greek gods #norse gods #norse mythology #emariialex #pjoverse #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus

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kiulam-blog · 5 years

Photo

In today’s Chancey Charm Atlanta Wedding Vendor Highlight, we are chatting with Megan from Moko & Co. She designs gorgeous wedding welcome bags that can be completely customized to fit your style, as well as other handmade products. These can be found in select stores nationwide or you can order online. We’re excited to be chatting with her about how she got into the wedding industry and her advice for brides. Enjoy friends!

– The Chancey Charm Team

Full Name

Megan Granger

Hometown

Massachusetts

What’s your area of expertise?

Wedding Welcome Bags

What brought you to the wedding industry?

I was learning to screen print and decided to create the welcome bags for my own wedding. I screen printed the state of Vermont and hand stamped a heart over the wedding location. I continued to work on my screen printing and eventually opened an Etsy shop. Then, I created a website where I sold my handmade products that included wedding welcome bags. Now I focus solely on wedding welcome totes that I design and screen print. Alongside my totes, I offer a selection of locally crafted, small batch, handmade products from other small businesses to use as wedding welcome bag gifts and/or favors.

Why is your product, space, service perfect for couples planning their wedding? What sets you apart?

We pride ourselves in offering couples an easy solution to wedding welcome bags. We strive to offer the best customer service and transparency so our customers know exactly what to expect. We offer a range of welcome bag gifts that are USA made, locally crafted, handmade so our couples know they are supporting small, local businesses all while gifting exceptional products to their wedding guests. Our couples love the ability to customize their welcome bags with colors, text, bags sizes, and anything more they can dream up.

Best piece of advice to someone new to the industry?

Keep growing and trying new things. Weddings are ever-evolving and it’s all about finding your niche.

Best piece of planning advice to a new bride/groom?

Check out the reviews for potential vendors, trust them, they’ll help you to narrow down the search and eliminate frustrations down the road.

Some words you live by?

If the customer is happy I am happy.

Best tip for balancing work + home life?

Make the best use out of your 24 hour day. Stay motivated.

Best moment of your career OR biggest accomplishment as a company…

Being in HGTV magazine was very exciting. And all the happy reviews we receive are everyday accomplishments we thrive on

Favorite Instagram Account

I love following calligraphers – the beauty in their work amazes and inspires me.

What’s your favorite aesthetic?

Rustic – I love sunflowers, handlettered boards, barn/country weddings with bulb lights and beautiful florals.

Intimate or Par-tay? What size wedding do you recommend and why?

As long as the couple is happy then it is the perfect wedding.

Learn more about Moko & Co here + follow along on Facebook and Instagram. Cheers!

Are you a bride looking for a resource you can trust to help keep you on track as you plan your wedding?

As professional wedding planners, we’ve spent years developing and perfecting the resources in our shop just for YOU! Click here to check them out.

The post Chancey Charm Atlanta Vendor Highlight | Moko & Co appeared first on Chancey Charm | Wedding Planner and Coordinator | Destination Wedding Planner.

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ventooreos · 7 years

Text

Earlier today I thought “I’ll probably have chapter 11 out sometime this week!” Well psyche to myself, I finished it today. I almost named this chapter seafood, since I found myself making a lot of allusions to marine life... This chapter was fun, but it was a bit difficult at times to write so many people who are so full of emotion. I’ve gotten everything to a point I’m satisfied with, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Title: Story of Assassins Chapter: 11 - Fedeltà Characters: La Sqaudra Di Esecuzione, Trish Una, Buccellati’s Team, Cannolo Murolo, Tiziano Rating: T Words: 6,462 Summary: The confrontations in Venice leave everyone emotionally charged. Despite everything, they’re forced to handle the fallout and choose what paths they’ll walk next.

“Goodness gracious, you two have certainly seen better days.” Murolo’s sudden presence in the bell tower was eerie. Tiziano’s head whipped around. His pulse had already been racing, but the man’s sudden appearance had thrown it’s beat into an erratic tantrum.

The guard bit his lip. He felt almost unable to respond. Panic was overflowing inside of him. Dread and mourning swirled beside it as he clutched his partner’s body. Squalo lay limp in his grasp. His ginger hair had been stained a deeper red when chunks of his skull had been bashed apart. Tiziano wanted to believe he still felt a pulse, that the gaping wound in the head of his companion wasn’t a death sentence. He clung to the shaking he felt in his hand. The throws of denial he found himself in were enough to blur the clear fact that it was caused by his own frayed nerves and nothing else.

“It might be about time you give up on your friend there.” Murolo craned his neck, trying to peek past Tiziano to get a better look at the man he was holding. “You’ve got more work to do, and we certainly won’t get anywhere if you keep clinging to dead weight.”

Dead. The word hit the guard like an iron pike. He’d wanted to keep that word from his mind, to banish it and never let the possibility of it’s truth soak into him. Murolo frowned as Tiziano grew stiffer.

“Though I suppose I should give you two a moment. I can count my blessings while I wait - Awfully lucky that those assassins took out that nasty Clash for me! And not just them, the boss’s daughter too! What an incredible show!” Murolo marvelled. The drama that he’d just witnessed was what he lived for. “I didn't know she had it in her, but really I should have expected nothing less from someone sharing the blood of a devil.” The man chuckled and shook his head.

Tiziano had long since stopped listening. The words that concerned him had come earlier - What work was left to be done? He’d failed. He would die from the wounds he sustained here or be executed by his superiors. Without Squalo, he was weak. He could do little to serve as a member of the elite guard squad. Whoever the man before him was, he knew this. He knew too much.

“What do you mean?” Tiziano couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice. “Who are you?”

“Ah, you’re ready to talk now? Well then,” Murolo cleared his throat. “I’m a friend of yours, Tiziano. I’m in charge of knowing about all the going ons in Passione, and I just need you to help me with that!”

“No one knows everything about Passione-”

“Precisely, and that includes you.” Murolo clicked his tongue. “Arrogant kids like you are a dime a dozen. You have no respect for anyone and you go on tangents without even thinking. You’re just a guard dog. A well groomed one, but a guard dog nonetheless!” He adjusted the brim of his hat, internally reminding himself to get back to the point. “No one knows everything about Passione, therefore no one could know if someone knew everything about Passione.”

Tiziano wasn’t one to get lured into an argument, and this was no exception. He may not have known the man standing before him, but years of service in Passione had taught him to never underestimate a foe. His hand curled tighter around Squalo’s limp arm. The ginger had always been the more rash of the two.

But with what had happened today, he couldn’t find fault in his partner’s actions. How could he have known that the boss’s daughter had a stand? One capable of such destruction no less. He wouldn’t bemoan the mistakes of Squalo, he couldn’t bring himself to. It was a cruel twist of fate. Just another unfair slant in the structure of the universe.

“As it turns out, you have to do a bit of work to stay up to date.” Murolo stuck a bony finger out toward the guard. “That’s where you’ll be helping me. A few questions, then I’ll help you be on your merry way.”

---

A tangible tension had come to rest in the room. It swirled between the four like the ocean waves; It connected them, yet pressed them apart.

The expression Trish wore today was unlike any other that the assassins had ever seen on her. Her eyes were trained dead ahead - she wouldn’t let them drop to the floor or drift askance. There were things she needed to say. The task seemed impossible - colossal - but by now she’d overcome far worse.

Risotto had stood to meet them when she’d arrived with Ghiaccio. It took mere seconds for him to realize the changes between them. The boy’s actions weren’t those of a guard watching a recaptured prisoner. He seemed to be shrinking away from her ever so slightly. Ghiaccio’s body language was far from subtle, it painted a clear change in dynamic. Risotto would need to act accordingly.

“I see you had an exciting day.” Risotto gestured towards the broken window. He could have just as easily called attention to the drenched clothes that clung to her frame or the disheveled tangle that was once a carefully styled updo, but perhaps it was better to wait for an explanation there.

Trish nodded in response. The Capo knew that he hadn’t offered the greatest opener, but there much to say and no good way to say it. A myriad of questions floated to the forefront of his mind, but it was obvious that this was not the time to demand answers.

He was already exhausted. The events of the day played on a continuous loop in his mind. Each new detail his men brought him only added to the chaos. Just moments ago he and Prosciutto had come to the conclusion that Trish was gone for good - she had escaped and would never return. Briefly he’d considered sending Illuso to search for her, but the chances he would capture her again were slim and the dark haired man was already shaken over Formaggio’s state.

When Risotto had first seen the dark haired man, he had assumed that it was Illuso who had been harmed. Streaks of red decorated his clothes, accumulated from time spent toting Formaggio’s mangled form.

Needless to say, when he found out the state of the true victim he’d felt a weight drop to his stomach.

“I..” The single syllable stretched on for longer than Trish would have liked. It brought Risotto’s focus back to the situation at hand. The Capo’s eyes briefly flicked to Ghiaccio. His glare was trained on her as he kept a measured, cautious distance between himself and the boss’s daughter. “I have some things I need to ask you.” She gulped and crossed her arms. “I expect answers.”

“Then ask.” Trish blinked. Was Risotto serious? Was he daring her? The wall of a man was impossible to read. Every word he spoke was utterly dry and somber. Decoding anything hiding behind the surface was impossible.

Trish took a deep breath, calming her nerves that were on the brink of panic. Each time they had spoken, Risotto had shown a surprising respect for her. Judging by precedent, it wouldn’t make sense for him to suddenly change his disposition.

“So. Your main goal here is to murder my father. The Don of Passione.” It was more statement than question.

“Yes.” Risotto nodded curtly. “That’s what we want.”

“Alright. Just wanted to get that out there. Second question: Your intent was to use me as a lead, but that didn’t work out so I became a hostage right?”

“That’s true as well.” As Risotto answered, Prosciutto frowned. To him it seemed that they were giving Trish quite a bit of leeway. It was dangerous.

“And what would happen if it turned out I was useless as a hostage?” This question was more pointed than the others. Trish’s brow had creased and her lips pursed after finishing the sentence.

“This is ridiculous, there are more important things that need our-” Prosciutto raised an eyebrow as he began his rant, only to be silenced by his Capo’s perturbed glare coming to rest on him. Words crashed to a halt immediately at the clear reprimandation.

Risotto’s focus centered once again on the girl. The shallow breaths she pulled in were barely enough to feed the flare of fear and defiance in her chest. Ghiaccio lurked near the door. His eyes had left the scene inside the room. At the moment he preferred to look out into the barren hallway.

“Would you kill me?” Trish’s question was just above a whisper, but it was more than enough to cut through the silence of the room. Maintaining eye contact with a rogue assassin after asking such a question took every inch of courage she held. He gave no clues to his thoughts, no sign of what answer he might give.

This was a possibility that Risotto had grappled with before. When it became apparent that Trish held no clues about her father’s identity, the Capo had had to rapidly change plans. At the time he hadn’t been able to fathom a reason that she might not work as a hostage, but he still considered it. Every possibility needed to be covered if they were to survive. He already knew his answer.

“No. I’d tell you to leave.”

Trish froze. A sense of relief was crawling up her spine and prickling at her neck, but she couldn’t give in too it. She couldn’t allow herself to feel any bit of ease yet. Could she even trust Risotto? Truthfully, there was a part of her that respected him. He was honest with her and treated her like a human, despite having no true obligation to. To Trish he was the most familiar and reassuring - which seemed contradictory to his overall appearance.

What about the other two? The blond who Risotto had interrupted wasn’t too terrible. He was strict with her and a bit uptight, but that could be chalked up to the stress of the situation. Well, maybe it wasn’t her place to make excuses for him. But in the hours she’d spent drifting in and out of sleep in the back of his car, she’d caught pieces of the conversation he’d had with the assassin named Pesci.

He seemed different at that time. Calmer, more tutor than mafioso. Throughout the drive to Venice Prosciutto had shared facts about the Jazz albums and artists he’d played through the car’s speakers. The bulkier assassin had nodded along intently, asking questions whenever something peaked his interest or he thought Prosciutto might just want to talk further on a topic. Their conversation flowed naturally, the pattern of speech between them was familiar and their roles well-defined.

If she was going to do this, she needed to remind herself of those traits. She needed to see the humanity behind the lethal facade and accept the truth of it. Over time it had become clear that these men weren’t simply looking for a paycheck. If this was a cold, detached money grab, things would be different. They were fighting to protect each other - They probably had no other option at this point.

No one had been abandoned. Not Melone when his arm was lost, nor Formaggio after the myriad wounds he’d sustained. There was no such thing as dead weight.

Trish hoped she could use that to define all of them. After all, her contact with the assassins had been fairly limited. She had begun to piece together portraits of a few of them, but others remained mysteries. Could she really believe someone was good without completely remembering their name?

She didn’t have time to study each of them, she would have to act now. The girl had come this far. She was willing to gamble on the judgement of others, even if they could easily be mistaken for villains.

“And what if I didn’t leave?” Trish’s words were stern. She waited to see the the assassins’ reactions, feeling as if she were testing the temperature of water.

Risotto’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t angry, but he clearly didn’t like her response. He was dismayed - obstinate perhaps. The Capo turned her sentence over in his head. He hadn’t misheard her. Maybe he was misinterpreting?

“No. We’ll be gone without a trace. You can stay here if that’s easiest for-”

“I meant I’m not going to just leave if you tell me to.” She cut in, claws ready and confident. “I don’t mean the hotel, and I don’t mean Venice. I mean this whole..” She gestured to the two men in the room and to the boy in the hall. “Situation.”

If Risotto had been surprised by her interruption, he refused to show it. But his expression had changed: It had hardened as Trish spoke. He now resembled a viper. Slowly he rose to his feet. His menacing form blocked the light that streamed in from the broken window, casting a shadow over the girl. Darkness was cast into his features, nearly melding them into the black hood that adorned his head.

Trish felt tinier than the day she’d been abducted. Intimidation was a natural skill of Risotto’s, something he’d mastered even before joining Passione. Even as Trish fought to hold steady to the fact of his humanity, she couldn’t help but feel an urge to flee. His current actions painted him as a demon. The light pushing past the sides of his figure wasn’t holy or soft, it was a glaring juxtaposition to his being. He was a splash of black ink running down the portrait in front of her.

“This isn’t the world you belong in.” Risotto’s heavy voice made the statement feel more like a command.

“Well then I guess it’s too bad I was born into it.” Trish raised a hand to her hip and looked up at Risotto. This was the first time the assassin had truly tried to scare her, but she felt almost used to this behavior. She was at least familiar enough with it to not let it completely unnerve her.

Risotto was taken aback by her sudden boldness. Whatever had happened today, it had changed her. He examined her, more carefully this time. She wore minor scrapes. Bruises were slowly darkening on her skin. They could be signs of an altercation, but they could just as easily be inflicted by trying to navigate the environment in a panic. It wasn’t likely that she’d tried to fight with Ghiaccio - This wasn’t the type of damage White Album left behind.

Aside from that, it would take more than a fist fight to change someone in such a way. Considering her bloodline, Risotto had a theory of what may have taken place.

“You don’t understand what you’re trying to do.” Risotto paused. What Trish wanted was inane. It went against what her basic instincts should have been telling her. “And yet, we are in no position to deny you a place here.”

“WHAT?!” Prosciutto exclaimed from behind his Capo. The sheer shock of Risotto’s sudden surrender proved to much for him to suppress the outburst. Trish was similarly surprised by how easily the man caved. Her features softened into a look of astonishment, but instead of lingering in disbelief like the blond, she quickly moved to a smile.

“Do you have a complaint?” Risotto looked back at his comrade. He considered his decision final, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t open to criticism from the man he trusted most.

“Risotto, have you lost her mind? This is-” Prosciutto brought a hand to his head, fighting to decide which problem to point out first. “She’s the boss’s daughter.” He raised a hand and lifted one finger. “She’s supposed to be a hostage. And for god sake, she’s a little girl!” When he’d finished, he had raised three of his fingers. “How the hell does any of this add up to a good idea?”

“Something tells me you may be underestimating our friend. But you’re right, she was our hostage. Now she’s not. We were the ones who kidnapped her in the first place, so do we really have any right to say no if she now wants to stay here by choice?” Risotto was calm as he spoke.

“I just think it’s dangerous, Risotto. I know you can’t honestly be blind to how this could go awry.” Prosciutto crossed his arms and reached into his pocket to retrieve his cigarette case. Risotto closed his eyes and nodded in response.

“Of course.” His attention turned back to the boss’s daughter. “Trish, I don’t know on what grounds you’ve made this decision, but I need you to know what you’re asking to become a part of.” The girl nodded. Her smile dissolved, leaving a look of intense focus on her face.

Risotto combed a hand through the hair that stuck out of his hood and sighed. How could he even begin to explain the horrors Trish might see? The danger she could be putting herself in? Was he really able to allow that? Of course, she’d already been exposed to some of it. Mostly after effects, but those would still give her a pretty good idea of what his squad faced on a daily basis.

“Trish, this is something that will leave a stain on you if you get involved with it. Our work is hell, and with our current status as traitors, we’re even despised by the underworld. As the boss’s daughter, you get a free pass out of here if we’re defeated. If you begin to sympathize with us, I can’t tell what effect that could have.” As the assassin spoke, Trish cast her gaze downward.

“That’s the thing though, I’m not going to get that kind of treatment.” She balled her hand into a loose fist. Risotto waited for the girl to continue. “They- He wants me dead. The people who came after us couldn’t have sent a more explicit message.” She paused. “That’s why I needed to know what would happen when you found out.”

Risotto’s features were solemn. He and his teammates hadn’t had time to conference about what had happened yet. Ghiaccio had slunk back to the door way at some point in the conversation. It was a rare sight to see him so quiet. Under most circumstances he had no qualms about throwing his two cents in.

“Ghiaccio, can you confirm this?” It was likely that the boy had seen what had happened, perhaps he had even been directly involved. The blue haired assassin looked up from the patch of carpet he’d been staring at.

“Yeah it’s..” Ghiaccio’s arms were crossed. He looked uncomfortable. “It’s just like what she said. They went after her with intent to kill.

“And you’re sure they didn’t just fail to recognize who she was?”

“There was no mistaking it.” Ghiaccio shook his head. “Given the opportunity to go after any of us, she was their first priority.” Risotto raised an eyebrow.

“Any of us?” He questioned before waving off the statement. “No, we can discuss that later. Trish, I’m sorry.” Risotto raised a hand to the side of his head. It wasn’t the death of their main lead that troubled him.

The revelation, in Risotto’s eyes, had increased their sins tenfold.

“Uh, thanks, I guess.” Trish’s posture softened. “But you already apologised, so you don’t have to do it again?” There was no clear way for her to respond. The situation felt awkward.

“No, this is different. It’s all different now.” Risotto turned away from her and moved back to where he’d previously been sitting. “Members of our team were originally responsible for finding out about your connection to the boss. We started all this. We’re the ones who put your life in danger.” Risotto’s wounds still ached from the battle he’d endured merely an hour ago. He was sore. He was bloodied. Giorno had helped to heal him, but the boy had only been able to get his wounds to a point where they weren’t fatal.

There was a new addition to his colony of pains. A deep sinking in his chest. A hollow, steel cavity being dug out from within him. Trish’s eyes followed the man. Truthfully there was a bit of comfort in how seriously Risotto was taking the matter. But that didn’t relieve the sense of anxiety within her.

“I mean.. I kinda thought you guys were the ones putting my life in danger from the start?” The girl shrugged. This didn’t change things for her. The chasm between their reactions to this information really only made the situation feel clumsy. Maybe she’d just had more time to process.

But then again, this was going to be awkward. It was going to be strange, and a bit uncomfortable. Getting used to that reality now would be better.

“I know this is all really strange, but I think it can work and I think it makes sense.” Trish began her explanation, leading Risotto to turn his head toward her. “Really I’m glad. This has gone well so far, I think.”

“I think it’s a stretch to say this has gone well for you at all.” The assassin cut in. “I can’t see why you’d want to stay in this situation.”

“Right, I was getting to that.” Trish rolled her eyes. “Listen to me for a second. Do you know about Sea Anemones and Clownfish? It’s ‘symbiosis.’ Usually Sea Anemones will attack anything that gets too close, but not Clownfish. The Anemone actually protects the fish. Get it? Outside the Anemone Clownfish have a lot of predators - Sharks, for one.” She pointed at Risotto. “I’m already too deeply entrenched in this mess to leave. If I did, Passione’s boss would surely send hitmen after me. But you guys are the mafia’s natural enemy now.”

“Well.” A slight grin appeared on Risotto’s face. “You have thought this through. But I have to ask, what makes you think you’re going to get a group of highly trained killers to act as your bodyguards for free?”

“First of all, you already accepted it.” Trish met his grin with a smile of her own. “Second, you obviously feel guilty about this whole mess. Third, who said anything about free? Why don’t you ask Doctor Freeze over there what I did to that shark?” The Capo gave Ghiaccio a questioning glance. The boy was obviously upset by the nickname, but quickly shook his head at his Capo and mouthed ‘long story.’

Risotto Nero was not a man who enjoyed being out of the loop. It was his job to be up to date with information concerning his team. This sort of allusionary back and forth annoyed him to no end. His mind sprinted through a hundred different scenarios. No matter what the truth was, Trish’s implications were clear.

“Hold on.” Risotto gestured for her to pause. “I don’t exactly know what you’re talking about, but if you think you’re going to be involved in any violence, you’re wrong.” Trish furrowed her brow. The assassin wasn’t joking, he was dead serious.

“If I need to fight I’m going to.” She protested.

“If you’re so worried about safety, you’d be wise to avoid the battlefield.” Risotto’s tone had become stern. The way his heavy baritone filled the room made it clear that there would be no arguing with his decisions. “Protect yourself, but don’t turn reckless.”

“Fine.” Trish sighed. It was strange how casual the conversation had begun to feel. The girl turned on her heel and took a step towards the room’s exit.

“Where are you going?” Trish froze. Risotto didn’t sound angry, but there was certainly something akin to annoyance in his voice. “You still have a lot to explain. If you want to be a part of this group, even in the weakest sense, you’re going to follow orders and contribute like everyone else.” The girl crossed her arms.

“Look, I’m just going to get some ice.” She breathed out. “My lungs are drenched in salt water right now, so I want something refreshing to drink. Is that alright?”

“Go on then.” Risotto shrugged.

Trish continued towards the door, satisfied with the answer she’d received. Ghiaccio had left it ajar when he’s slunk into the room. As she clasped the knob, the ease with which the door swung open struck her.

Little force was needed to get through this time.

---

Fugo felt as if his consciousness had been forced from his body. He felt hazy, like his mind had splattered across the wall. Dripping hues of thought soaked into wallpaper as he desperately tried to tie together reality with threads of logic. Nothing made sense. But it did, it made complete sense. What Buccellati had told them was the unequivocal reality.

His mouth felt dry. He looked down at Narancia, who sat at the table next to him. The boy was biting his nails, staring downward. To see him so insanely focused on a single point - in this case, the cup of coffee in front of him - was far from normal. Jagged tips were beginning to form at the ends of Narancia’s fingers as he indulged the nervous habit.

A mangled piece of nail fell into his cup.

“You need to stop that, you’re just going to end up bleeding.” Fugo’s voice was flat as he spoke. Disbelief stung and challenged him. They were no longer affiliated with Passione. When they’d lost Trish, they’d lost their privilege to live. Narancia paid Fugo no mind. “Are you even listening? I said stop that!” The blond’s voice began to crescendo. He could feel his chest shaking. Their decommissioning wasn’t the worst part of the current situation. Their Capo had been actively conspiring with the new recruit and planning treason.

They wanted to orchestrate an entire coup. They were insane.

“Stop biting your fucking nails Narancia!” Fugo’s hand shot forward, clamping onto Narancia’s wrist and knocking the boy’s hand into the cup of coffee. A sharp crack pulsed against their ears as it clattered from the saucer and splashed across the table. Abbacchio’s eyes snapped towards the scene. The pathetic little bar was too small for him to avoid their ruckus, comprised of only four tables and a half wall that divided the rest of the space from the bar itself.

“Fugo, what the fuck!” The dark haired boy grabbed Fugo’s tie, his jagged nails scraping against skin in the process.

“You’re being disgusting!” He hissed. Fugo wasn’t sure if the shaking in his hand was his own or Narancia’s.

“And you’re being a dick!” Narancia pulled himself from the other’s grasp and stood up. Coffee had begun to drip through the slats of wooden table. The boy rubbed his wrist and glared at his friend.

“Christ, could you both be quiet?” Abbacchio rubbed his temples and slumped against the wall. “Just make your goddamn choice. Stay or go before Bruno gets back.” The two boys had paused their squabbling to listen to him. Fugo’s eyes fell on the door.

Buccellati and Giorno had left after revealing their true intentions, stating that when they returned their next steps would begin. Their Capo had always been a kind man. He’d told them that they were no longer under his command, that they had no need to listen to him or even to feel obligated to stay by his side. His actions now gave them a chance to leave. They wouldn’t need to confront him. They were free to go, and there was no need to make it feel like a betrayal.

Mista had walked out of the bar almost immediately after Buccellati and Giorno had left. He hadn’t said a word, and Fugo had been too shocked to speak. Out of everyone there, Mista seemed the least likely to hold loyalties to Passione or to fear what might happen to them. As he had left, even Abbacchio had turned his gaze away.

But was Mista really wrong to go? By leaving, Mista was giving himself a shot at life. As things were, their entire unit was a failure that Passione would eventually need to wipe out. With the coup that Buccellati was planning, they’d rise to the top of the hit list.

Fugo stepped away from the table. He felt light headed. Soon the empty spaces in his brain would be flushed with a migraine, he could always feel them coming on. He crossed the creaky floor and laid a hand on the doorknob.

“I’m leaving, and I think you all should too.” His shoulders were tight. Fugo wanted to face the others to give his statement, but something in his heart wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Narancia mumbled as he raised his feet onto his chair and hugged his knees to his chest. The door closed behind Fugo.

The day was too bright outside the bar, bringing on the pain in his temple faster. The blond raised his hand to shield his eyes. Where was he supposed to go? The streets of Venice were foreign to him. Even if he found a map, what would his destination be? Up until now, his place in the world was wherever his gang was. That was no longer an option. It’s not like he could go home - that was definitely of the table.

Where else had he existed before Passione? There was a University that he’d been expelled from. A prison cell he’d been abandoned in. The only location that didn’t feel cold and grim to him was his Grandmother’s house, but it had likely been resold or demolished at this point.

“Hey, you’re not really about to leave, are you?” The voice cut Fugo from his thoughts. He looked down. Mista was leaning against the building, his legs crossed under him to stay in the shadow of the overhang.

“What are you- I thought you left?” Fugo was incredulous. Part of him had already accepted that he’d never see Mista again.

“What?” The teen raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? Fugo, that would be stupid.” The blond blinked.

“You do realize Passione wants us dead, right?” Fugo questioned.

“Yeah so?” Mista shrugged. “Who cares about Passione? People always want us dead. People inside the mafia attacked us just last week, and we were still members back then.”

“But that was different, those were just thugs.” Fugo retorted. “The boss will send real trained killers after us this time!”

“Dude, we’re real trained killers.” Mista rolled his eyes. Fugo was his friend, but the guy could be unbearable sometimes. “That’s our job description, and there’s strength in numbers. That’s not even what matters most.” Mista paused. “Buccellati.” He gestured with a flat hand as he said the name. “If it wasn’t for him, I’d be rotting in a cell right now. I’m with Capo all the way, Giorno too. Fugo, you can do whatever you want, but personally I think you need to turn that brain of yours off for a minute, stop over thinking, and make your decision.”

Fugo looked away. He couldn’t convince Mista of anything - He wasn’t even trying to right now. Maybe he was right. Not thinking about it went against everything Fugo believed, but so did this entire situation.

The teen took a deep breath before joining Mista on the ground. He laid his back against the wooden door. It’s paint was chipping, and if he moved at the wrong angle he would surely get splinters. Fugo turned his gaze toward the city. Cobbled streets. Tall faded buildings. He felt a faint anxiety creep over him, Giorno and Bruno could appear somewhere among them any at any moment. What was going to happen then? He felt a hand grab his arm.

“I know I said turn off your brain, but I didn’t mean forever.” Fugo gave Mista a confused glare. Wasn’t this what the other had wanted? “If you lean against the door, someone’s going to hit you. Plus if you sit in the sun like that you’ll get all red like a lobster.” The teen motioned for Fugo to join him in the shadow of the awning. The blond complied, scooching toward the other.

The two boys sat in silence for a time. Thousands of thoughts and concerns zipped through Fugo’s head. Meanwhile, Mista seemed oddly tranquil. He pulled out his gun and began polishing it, taking care to inspect every inch. To him these actions were natural. He trusted Buccellati and Giorno. There was nothing more to it in his mind.

Fugo didn’t lack trust in his leader. He feared hypotheticals. Probability, logic, and caution ruled his life. Every moment needed control, that was what he strove for. The current situation felt like chaos, and it put him on edge.

But in that moment he was glad to have Mista by his side. The presence of another human would keep him from panicking. Here he was grounded. Had he gone off on his own, Fugo might have already been overwhelmed.

“Hey,” Mista straightened up. “They’re back.” The blond followed his gaze. Sure enough, the familiar forms of Giorno and Buccellati had rounded a corner and were heading toward them. The two teens stumbled to their feet. They could feel their Capo’s eyes wash across them. Buccellati was doing his best to conceal any emotion. Still, Fugo could see traces of his true feelings - Not fear, but something akin to it. Something lonelier.

“Is it just the two of you?” Buccellati’s voice was strong. It wouldn’t betray his feelings.

“No,” Fugo blinked, realizing what the scene must have looked like. “The others are just still inside.” As the sentence spilled out of his mouth, he couldn’t help but be transfixed by how quickly he was settling back into his normal role. Buccellati visibly relaxed as he answer.

“Then I’ll grab the others and we can begin.” He pulled the door open and stepped inside. The frame emitted a loud creak as the door swung shut behind him. Fugo turned back to Mista.

“Why did you come out here in the first place?” He questioned. “We all thought you had left.”

“What?” Mista furrowed his brow, insulted by their assumption. “They really thought I’d leave? That bar just gave me the creeps, okay? I didn’t like it’s vibe.” The boy shook his head and turned away from Fugo.

The blond couldn’t understand why the place had shaken him. Sure, it was old and a bit run down, but they’d been to such places in the past. All the place consisted of was a bar, a dividing wall, and a seated area of four tables, and-

Ah.

“Formaggio is doing as well as he can be right now.” Illuso leaned against the wall of the hotel room. “Not great, but alive.” He’d felt restless since returning from the rescue mission. Their enemies were still somewhere out there, and they’d made an excellent show of brutality. Melone and Illuso had joined the rest of their squad - bar Formaggio - to report on everything that had happened.

“Internal bleeding is our biggest concern right now.” Melone chimed in his analysis. The blond’s posture suggested fatigue, but his expression made it clear that he was more than willing to work through a bit of drowsiness. “He could easily have some organ damage, but it’s hard to say how extreme the problem is. I’ll keep tabs on him for now.” Risotto nodded.

“It’s good to see you on your feet. Thank you.” With their recount, a full picture of the day’s events had finally formed. The attacks seemed less planned out than he had initially guessed. The squad led by Buccellati was certainly the other branch of Assassins working under Passione, but their approach felt all wrong.

Snuffing out another squad was done quick and dirty. There was no need to press for information. Passione had it’s own branch dedicated to interrogation, so why had the girl Illuso spoke of put Formaggio through such harsh questioning? It went against the job, it allowed for mistakes. Risotto had done this sort of job himself. A unit in Genoa had been embezzling money and he’d been tasked with their deaths. The procedure was a tight one that had to be handled strictly.

Stranger yet was the mercy and even compliance they’d been shown. Those who met with Risotto and his men and allowed them to live were signing their own death warrants. It was all too uncanny.

“We’re going to need to move as soon as we can.” Prosciutto gnawed on the unlit cigarette in his mouth. “There are too many enemies here. They could be planning their next attack right now. They could already be at our doorstep.”

“If they’re here I haven’t seen them.” Illuso commented. He’d been using the mirror world to keep tabs on the entire building. The homunculus that Melone had created earlier had yet to be destroyed or dispelled. For the time being, he’d left it to continue his scouting inside the mirror. It seemed to be one of the more compliant creatures made using Baby Face, but Illuso knew to be wary of its free will - Especially considering an old sample of Formaggio’s blood had been used to create it.

“No, we’re going to stay where we are.” Risotto’s words carried his resolve. It was clear that he had already made his decision, but the idea still put his squad on edge.

“Mind giving us an explanation?” Prosciutto challenged. “That doesn’t really sound like the best course of action when we’ve got Passione hot on our tails.”

“I’m not totally convinced of who our enemy is.” Risotto responded. “Parts of what happened today seem more coincidence than plan.” As their Capo spoke, Trish appeared in the doorway. The gathering of ex-mafioso discouraged her from entering - listening from here would be just fine. “The one’s that we know were looking to kill us have already been taken care of.” Risotto’s eyes fell onto Trish as he spoke. By now the other’s had already been made aware of their alliance. How things would play out from here was a mystery.

“We may not know for a fact that the other group’s goal was to wipe us out, but they could still come for us at any moment.” Prosciutto stressed.

“Then let them come.” Risotto said his piece with utter confidence. “They only damaged us before because we were spread out. If they want to attack us all at once, we’ll let them walk into that massacre.”

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incarnationsf · 5 years

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Four Lessons from One Sign

By the Rev. Darren Miner

Gospel Reading

According to ancient Christian tradition, the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6 is linked with three Gospel stories: the visitation of the Magi, the baptism of Jesus, and the wedding feast in Cana. Each of these stories, in its own way, deals with an epiphany, a divine manifestation. In this liturgical year, we are privileged to hear all three of the traditional Epiphany texts over the course of three successive Sundays.

Today’s story takes place at a wedding banquet, which in Jesus’ day was a week-long affair. Friends and family would come and go throughout the week; and the feasting, singing, and dancing would continue each evening. Guests were expected to bring gifts of food and drink to help the groom keep the party going. In return for the wedding gifts, the groom was honor-bound to entertain his guests in style. And if he didn’t, the guests could take their host to court!

In today’s story, disaster strikes. The wine runs out. Jesus’ mother notices the problem and asks her son to do something about it. She realizes that the groom would be publicly shamed and legally liable if the celebration had to be cut short.

Jesus’ response to his mother’s request is troubling. In the English translation we just heard, his response is “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?” Now it sounds a bit rude to call one’s own mother “woman.” But believe it or not, the translators have toned down Jesus’ response. A more literal translation might be “Woman, what right do you have to bother me?” His only explanation for rudely denying her request is that “his hour had not yet come.” Frankly, if I ever spoke to my mother like that, her response might be that my hour had indeed come!

But Mary’s reaction to Jesus’ rebuff is calm and composed. She tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” She trusts that her son will do the right thing, despite his sassiness. And he does! He asks the servants to fill six water jars, each of which held about 20 or 30 gallons. Just imagine what a task that must have been. They had to lug over 120 gallons of water from the nearest well. When they had complied with Jesus’ request, a sample is then taken to the chief steward, who proclaims the transformed water to be top-quality wine. The Evangelist says that this miracle was the first of Jesus’ seven “signs.” And by it, he revealed his glory, and the disciples came to a new level of faith.

This short episode evokes so many questions. Why did Jesus rudely deny his mother’s request? What did he mean when he said his hour had not yet come? Why did Jesus immediately change his mind and take action to save the wedding feast? Why did St. John call this miracle a “sign”? And finally, what significance, if any, does this miracle story have for us today?

Well, I’m going to take a crack at each one of these questions. Here goes! First, why did Jesus act the way he did to his own mother? Well, Jesus knew that to save the day would require that he perform a public miracle, a “sign,” as the Evangelist prefers to call it. And after such an action, there could be no going back. One miraculous sign would inevitably lead to another. And as you may recall, by the time that Jesus performed the seventh and final sign, the raising of Lazarus, the authorities had decided to have Jesus put to death as a rabble-rouser. Jesus knew where this first step would eventually lead him, and he was naturally reluctant to take it. Given the circumstances, I think we can excuse his rudeness.

But then, Jesus changes his mind and performs that first sign. I don’t think it’s because of the special pleading of his mother, at least not directly. After all, he explicitly denies any claim his mother might have on him in this regard. We can only surmise that God the Father heard Mary’s request and that the divine will was moved. Then, as always, Jesus obeyed his Father.

Next question! Why does St. John call this and six other miracles of Jesus “signs”? Well, the short answer is because they are meant to point to something. These signs are big neon arrows pointing to God and to his only Son. They point to the fact that the Kingdom of God is breaking into the world. Now, it may seem that Jesus’ changing water into wine was a rather “pointless” sign, for it isn’t obvious what greater purpose it served. But there was a purpose greater than simply keeping the party going. For as a result of this first sign, later generations have learned four important lessons about God and Jesus, and about our relationship with them.

First and foremost, this miracle is an epiphany, a manifestation of Jesus’ divinity, performed so that we, like the disciples, may believe in Jesus Christ.

The story also points to the power of human prayer. Mary asks for intervention, and her faith in the face of initial denial seemingly results in a change of the divine will. How might our faithful prayer affect the will of God, I wonder?

Jesus’ first sign also points to the cooperation between the human and the Divine that is necessary for the transformation of the world. If the servants had failed to tote those 120 gallons of water from the village well, there might have been no miracle in Cana. Surely, our hard work, in cooperation with God, is an integral part of his plan for salvation.

And finally, Jesus’ changing water into wine points to the fact that humans are meant to be joyful. In the Bible, bread and oil and wine are symbols of abundance and joy. The 120 gallons of wine that Jesus provides for the wedding feast in Cana demonstrates the extravagant joy that he willed for the wedding guests. And God wills that same extravagant joy for us today.

So, to summarize, the take-home message for today is fourfold:

1) believe in the divine power of Jesus Christ, as revealed to us by the first of Jesus’ seven signs;

2) be faithful in the face of unanswered prayer, just as Mary was at the wedding feast in Cana;

3) be willing to cooperate with the Divine, just as did the servants who filled the six water jars; and

4) rejoice in God’s extravagant and intoxicating love, as did the joyful revelers in Cana of Galilee.

#Epiphany #miracle #sign #belief in Jesus #perseverance in prayer #cooperation with God #rejoicing in God’s love #sermon #episcopal church #episcopal #episcopalian #The Episcopal Church #episcopalchurch #anglican #Anglican Communion #anglicancommunion

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heartslogos · 7 years

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newfragile yellows [13]

“Behavioral training or exam?” The hulking mass of a person says, barely glancing up as Dorian enters the front room of the office.

“Pardon?” Dorian blinks, setting down Archimedes onto the floor.

“You’re not here for grooming,” The man says, looking at something in his hands behind the counter - probably texting - “Hairless cats don’t really need grooming. So it’s either behavioral training or some kind of physical exam or something.”

“I was actually here to see if I need to make an appointment,” Dorian says, “And to find out more about this business. I don’t just trust my cat to anyone.”

Before either of them can say anything further, the entryway door chimes open and Dorian turns to see a harried looking man with no less than three bags awkwardly struggling to hold the door open as a parade of dogs trots in.

Once the mass of dogs has entered the building, the man follows suit, awkwardly and carefully lowering the tote bags hanging off his shoulders to the floor to release even more dogs.

“Rutherford,” The man behind the desk says as the blonde man with the slightly dazed and frazzled look that can only come from managing too many things at once walks past him and opens the door to what Dorian assumes is the main working offices of the veterinary practice.

“Bull,” Rutherford nods back, clearly moving on auto pilot as he gestures the dogs in.

“You’re missing two,” The receptionist - apparently a man named Bull says.

“Maxwell’s facetiming his dogs in my car,” Rutherford answers, gently nudging a small pug into walking towards the doors with the tip of his shoe, “I’ll get them after this lot is sorted.”

“I figured,” Bull says, “You’re still missing two.”

Dorian stares at Rutherford. As if this - this pack wasn’t enough?

Rutherford suddenly starts counting off on his fingers and muttering before blanching in the realization that he, most likely, has forgotten two.

“I left them at Evelyn’s house,” Rutherford gasps, and then, blinking - stares at Dorian and then curls in a little on himself. “I’m sorry - was I interrupting?”

“I was just trying to make an appointment,” Dorian says, “Don’t mind me.”

Rutherford blinks, frowning and glances at Bull, “Are we supposed to be making appointments now?”

“He’s new,” Bull says, “No, you do not need an appointment. Cool it, Rutherford and get your other dogs.”

Suddenly the sound of something hissing and spitting comes from the depths of the office, made clear by the echoing walls and the fact that Rutherford is still holding the heavy door open.

“Sera’s lizard has a tooth ache,” Bull says by way of explanation.

Moments later a woman’s voice is heard yelling, “No! No more Binky for you! No more Binky until you behave! You are being very naughty Monoxide! Very naughty! You are being a bad example for Carbon and I will not have that in my office!”

“So,” Dorian turns to look back to Bull, “Behavioral or exam?”

“Right, almost forgot - don’t freak out but my house is haunted. You want a beer?”

“Your what is haunted?” Krem gapes turning towards Skinner as if she can provide a better explanation.

Skinner shrugs, shoulders past him and follows Bull into his house.

“My house Aclassi,” Bull calls from deeper inside, “I know you grew up poor as shit but I know you know what a house is.”

“I think he’s more hung up on the fact that you call it haunted,” Varric says, waving at Krem from where he’s seated in front of Bull’s TV. It looks like most of Bull’s things are unpacked. Cullen and Dorian are working on setting up his TV and his multiple electronic devices that hook up to it.

“How do you know it’s haunted?” Krem asks.

“Aclassi,” Bull says, handing Skinner a beer that she somehow opens with her bare hands - a trick she claims she learned in college, which is a lie because Skinner has never gone to college, a lie which when called out on Skinner replies I never said it was my college - “Since when have I looked like a buttercups and lavender kind of guy to you?”

He points out the window where, sure enough, the window boxes are full to bursting.

In fact every window box that Krem can see is full to bursting.

“Dunno, Chief, you’ve always been more of a daisies kind of guy.”

“Exactly,” Bull says. “Also I’ve been playing a guessing game of trying to figure out her name for the past week since I moved in.”

“Her?”

“Chill, Cole and I spent a week confirming she’s a she and not a he or a they,” Bull says, “I’m not gendering a ghost wrong.”

Skinner meets Krem’s eyes and shrugs, sitting down on Bull’s sofa and putting her boots up on the coffee table.

“What do you mean guessing game with her name?” Krem asks instead.

“Check the hallway mirror,” Bull says.

“You own a mirror?”

“Couldn’t take it down,” Bull says, “Haunted house, remember?”

“Gently loved,” Krem startles and jumps straight up in the air, turning around to see Varric’s boy standing directly behind him. “She prefers the term gently loved house.”

“Cole,” Krem says and Cole looks abashed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Show Krem the mirror, Cole,” Bull waves them off and Cole turns around, gesturing for Krem to follow.

Cole leads him into a narrow hallway and points at a nearly four foot long slightly tarnished mirror.

“She’s ready,” Cole says and then leans forward to breathe over the mirror.

In the fog over the glass the word hi becomes clear.

Krem stares and the fog travels over the glass without anyone breathing on it to reveal an elaborate game of hangman.

“We have three letters,” Cole says, pointing.

Krem figures that with only two letters missing, it should be easy enough to guess.

“It isn’t the point to know,” Cole says. “I’m guessing obelisk.”

An invisible hand draws a cross on the mirror underneath the hangman and then draws a flower underneath the hanging figure. The figure is missing a leg.

Cole looks at Krem expectantly.

“Has anyone guessed closed parenthesis yet?” Krem says, and the invisible hand draws one out on the mirror and adds a bee around the flower. Aside from the fact the image is a hangman missing a leg, it’s a pretty nice picture that’s been drawn out on glass.

Real detailed.

“So, gently loved, huh?”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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slrlounge1 · 5 years

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Tips To Overcome Bad Weather From 14 Wedding Pros

Although we’ve seen a cluster of beautiful wedding images in the rain and snow, not many wedding photographers look forward to getting soaked for the shot. We asked a selection of our Apex award-winning photographers what techniques they love to use when faced with bad weather and what gear they rely on to make these shots happen.

The first thing you’ll need is a couple of Ziploc bags for your off-camera flashes, so if you’ve got a wedding coming up and bad weather in the forecast, we’ve got you (and your flashes) covered!

Melissa Jill – Website | Instagram

“My best technique is simply planning ahead & creating a game plan! For this rainy day wedding, we brought umbrellas (clear ones so that the subjects faces wouldn’t be too heavily shaded). After strategizing with the bridal party under the cover of a tent, we ran out to grab the shot, with my 2nd shooter holding another umbrella over my film camera. It took planning prior to the wedding and in real-time with the bridal party, but it was all worth it!”

Jared Gant – Website | Instagram

“Who defines what is good and bad weather? Okay, maybe if a hurricane is coming in we should all duck for cover, but all too often, I see both photographers and clients unnecessarily hiding from a little bit of snow or rain. When the weather is starting to look different than expected, I try to remind my clients to go with the flow and be playful. One of my favorite techniques is to back-light the couple with a MagSphere. This throws light in all directions and exaggerates the appearance of the weather. I always keep a few large zip-lock bags in my bag to cover up and protect the flashes.”

JD Land – Website | Instagram

“As a primarily documentary photographer, I absolutely love the challenges that I’m faced with when the weather isn’t considered to be “ideal.” The weather 100% affects a couple’s emotions on their wedding day so that part of the story NEEDS to be documented and told through photographs. Accomplishing that is the hard part as a couple will only spend a few moments out in the weather. To make sure I am able to tell the entire story in these brief moments, I am always using either my 24-70mm f/2.8 or 35mm f/1.4. Both of these lenses are wide enough to allow me to include the environment, or the weather, in the composition.

This photograph is a bride getting ready to head into the church and her feelings about the weather are written all over her face as she prepares to be escorted in by the umbrella-toting driver. I needed every bit of a 35mm to make sure I was close enough to be in the moment with her but also include the umbrella in the frame to show why she is having the reaction she is.”

Aaron Story – Website | Instagram

“Shooting predominantly in the UK means that I’m often faced with wet weather; it’s something I used to worry about a lot, but as I’ve grown with experience, I’ve learned to go with it. The way I think about it is if I’m anxious, then it’s likely that will rub off on my couple and that will affect their day (and photos). In the photo above, I went out beforehand to set everything up and wrapped my flash in a clear plastic bag (I keep a few handy, just in case). I found an usher to help me out in getting the right settings, and once I was set, I invited the couple out with umbrellas. We were out for a matter of seconds – this is the result made with a Canon 5D Mark III, Canon 24mm f/1.4L II, one Yongnuo 600 EX-RT Flash in a Ziploc bag and Op/Tech Rain Sleeve for the camera and lens.”

Dave Shay – Website | Instagram

“Backlighting rain or snow with bad weather isn’t a new trick by any means (I used a MagSphere for this), but the most important part about shooting in bad weather is to get your clients excited about it. If you can convince your clients that you’re the expert and that they should trust you, you have so many more opportunities to make something incredible. Once your clients are on board, the only thing you’ll need is a weather-sealed camera (thanks, Nikon!), a few Ziploc bags to throw your flashes in, and a horrible pun to make some magic.”

Paco Van Leeuwen – Website | Instagram

“Last year I had a wedding I’ll never forget, it was raining the entire day… Although there wasn’t a real couples session planned, they did want a few nice images at these different locations. At times the rain was coming sideways so I had to come up with a solution. Thanks to the SLR Lounge flash courses I had the knowledge and confidence to pull this off. I just left the couple dry inside and got soaking wet myself. For both shots, I used a gridded flash, underexposed the ambient light by 1-2 stops and set the flash power accordingly.”

[Read: 8 Rainy Day Wedding Photography Tips You Need To Know]

Scott Josuweit – Website | Instagram

“Group composites are one of my favorite tricks when the weather isn’t ideal. The bride and groom wanted an “epic group photo” in this one space of their venue but they wanted to be able to see all of the greenery in the background. My assistant held a Godox AD200 with a MagGrid, MagSphere, and 1/4 CTO MagGel on it and lit each member of the wedding party one at a time, and I snapped a photo each time they moved. I ended up using 13 different frames to put this composite together.”

Matt Gruber – Website | Instagram

“Sometimes a couple is really adventurous, but more often than not you want to get photos outside without having them soaking wet afterward (or holding umbrellas for every photo). Many venues will have some sort of awning or covered valet area somewhere on the property. I love to place the couple under the awning and use a telephoto lens to get beautiful bokeh and compression. Mix in just a small amount of flash to blend in with the ambient light behind them and no one will have any idea it was even raining at all.”

Alex Pasarelu – Website | Instagram

“I improvise a lot, but mainly try to take advantage of the bad weather and create beautiful memories no matter what. I always encourage my couples to enjoy the rain and be brave, they need to live the moment. I tend to use the water on the ground to create beautiful reflections, use umbrellas to help compose the frame, or just have the couple dancing in the rain if they are willing to. I always try to capture the day how it really was.”

Shannon Cain – Website | Instagram

“How do I convince my clients to step out into the rain and wind for some beautiful portraits? Before I ever pull them outside, I completely set up the shot so that when I do ask my bride & groom to step outside, it only requires them to be in the elements for a fraction of the time. And when particles of any sort are in the air, choose to backlight! I always carry ziplock bags with me to cover my Godox AD200s from the elements as well as two clear umbrellas.”

Nicole Chan – Website | Instagram

“During inclement weather, I always encourage my couples to embrace it. I mention that during perfect days, there are dozens of couples fighting for the same spot at the same time. I remind them that all relationships are different and that having non-cliche engagement and wedding portraits is a pretty awesome thing. For Brian and Maryanne’s portrait session, it was sub-zero temperatures in Boston. Brian recreated one of their early dates and gave Mary Anne special mittens that had been crafted specifically to allow two people to hold hands while wearing the mittens.”

Christophe Viseux – Website | Instagram

“I actually see bad weather as a fantastic opportunity to create spontaneous photos with a different feel and sometimes gorgeous light like before a storm. From a gear point of view, you still want to make sure your camera remains safe and sound in dry conditions. I always carry an emergency rain cover in my bag.”

Christi Chambers – Website | Instagram

“I always get excited when there’s a little precipitation in the forecast (hopefully late in the day). My go-to is a simple backlit shot to catch whatever’s in the air (rain/snow/fog). Of course this works best with lower ambient light (if you don’t have a super powerful flash with you). My couples are always blown away by the results!”

Abul Shah – Website | Instagram

“I consider myself lucky to live in one of the most amazing countries in the world. But, as I’m sure many of you know, or will have experienced first-hand if you’ve ever visited the UK, good weather is not what we are known for! Grey is an all too familiar colour to us, and the stats say that we only see the sun for about one third of an average year. Yes, that’s right. The rest of the time, it’s overcast, raining, or we get what we Brits like to call ‘drizzle.’

So, achieving creative or dramatic photos requires direction and a plan, and keeping the bride and groom dry at the same time can be a challenge. The majority of brides don’t want to ruin their hair in the rain, and some won’t even consider stepping outside. At times, we are expected to deliver maximum results with minimum effort from our client.

When I want something dramatic, with soft light and good contrast, a good option that I come back to now and then is one of the simplest. I look for a window with good light and little distractions in the frame, so I don’t lead the viewer away from the subject.

There’s no need for umbrellas, no need to light the scene or zip lock your speed lights, no wet wedding dress and most importantly, the couple stays warm and happy.

I use prime lenses on my Nikon D800 bodies 90% of the time, namely the Sigma Art 35mm and the 50mm f/1.4 lenses, because I like to shoot wide open and they are incredibly fast lenses. The window light (in the above scenario) may not be strong, and as I like to make an effort to keep my ISO as low as possible, my choice of prime lens always responds perfectly.”

Tips from Abul:

When placing your subject by the window, the natural light fall off can be rapid, so don’t be afraid to have their shoulder almost touching the window if the light requires it.

Try and avoid getting the window itself in the shot, as it will be bright and distracting in the final image. Perhaps try leaning against the wall and breaking the ‘gazing space’ rule. Get it right in camera.

You may find that a good window location may be in an obscure or strange place. Your couple may not understand what you are seeing and might seem uncomfortable, but if you’re there then you know they trust you. When you get a good shot, show them. Sometimes showing them a shot once or twice on the back of the camera and telling them how good they look will help them relax, and help you get the best out of your couple.

Tips For Rainy Day Wedding Photography | Summary

Make sure your gear is weather sealed and if not invest in plastic covers to protect it from getting ruined.

Always have an umbrella on hand (this can just be a regular white lighting umbrella) because you never know when you’ll need it.

Always test the shot before bringing your couple into the scene to prevent them from getting cold or wet.

Use flashes to backlight the particles in the air and compression lenses to yield better bokeh results.

from SLR Lounge https://www.slrlounge.com/rainy-day-wedding-photography-tips/ via IFTTT

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eugenefischer · 6 years

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On Bryce Milligan and Hailey Laine Johnson

Bryce Milligan is an author, musician, and publisher—the founder of Wings Press in San Antonio, Texas, where he’s been a ubiquitous figure in the municipal literary scene since 1977. You can read about his many endeavors in the extremely lengthy professional biography on his website. Perhaps the only part of his career you wouldn’t learn from that bio is the time he spent as a high school teacher, leading the Creative Writing program at the North East School for the Arts. This lacuna is notable due to the circumstances of his departure from that position. He was offered, and took, the opportunity to resign about three quarters of the way through 2001-02 school year, rather than be terminated for inappropriate relations with a student. I know about it because that was my senior year as a NESA Creative Writing major, and he was my teacher.

The student in question was Hailey Laine Johnson, and she has gone public about the experience on Facebook. Her account is embedded below. I’d encourage you to read it before continuing to the rest of this post.

I was told about Hailey’s post by another former high school classmate, one who thought I might wish to defend Bryce’s reputation. That was a reasonable supposition given my attitude back then, but an incorrect one. My feelings about Bryce Milligan have changed in the seventeen years since I was seventeen. I wasn’t present for most of the events that Hailey describes in the post, but I had my own interactions with Bryce, ones that from an adult perspective are perfectly consonant with everything she wrote. I want to share those experiences, and explain how profoundly I think Bryce Milligan transgressed.

Bryce took over the Creative Writing program at the start of my junior year, and immediately won over the students with his easygoing affect and aura of literary importance. All the books he had written. The books he had published. The writers he knew and the awards they had won. When Bryce arrived, the Creative Writing program seemed to transform from a quirky, special-topics English class into a gateway to life among the literati. He was a cool teacher; a guitar-toting, Dylan-quoting free spirit who spoke to us with rare candor. One who made us feel like peers more than pupils, and carried himself as sort of guru, initiating us into our authorial futures. To me, a teenager aching for the seriousness of adult regard, this was intoxicating. When I was sixteen years old, an authority figure need only validate me as an intellectual equal to win me over completely.

By my senior year, though, I had doubts. Not about the propriety of Bryce’s behavior, alas, but the wisdom of it. His social closeness with students went so far beyond the public high school norm that I started to worry for him. I felt that a teacher sharing so much of his life with students was inadvisable, but was at the same time thrilled to be treated as a confidant by a successful elder and mentor. I remember one day, during lunch (many of us spent lunch in his portable classroom), he beckoned me over to show me his hat. On the sweatband, in neat ballpoint handwriting: Hi, Bryce!

“Laine wrote that,” he said, his voice buoyant with delight, “Can you believe that girl? She’s amazing!” Laine was a new freshman, fourteen-year-old Hailey Laine Johnson, and Bryce was swooning. I don’t know if that was the first time I told him that if he carried on as he was he would get fired, but it was certainly one time. And not the last.

As senior year wore on I got increasingly angry at him. Angry for selfish reasons; if he got himself ousted over some new girl, it would fuck up the rest of my senior year. But his obsession seemed only to grow, and hazy rumors of questionable behavior began to spread. One of the times I told him he needed to cut it out or else lose his job, he responded, “She’s a muse, E.J. Even if I do get fired, it’s worth it. This has given me enough for ten years of writing.”

Those words have echoed in my mind ever since, as I’ve aged, progressed through school, become an educator myself. Each time I’ve remembered them, the more predatory a violation of the boundaries between teacher and student they’ve seemed. I’ve seen their shadow in my vision whenever I’ve encountered a misuse of the power that comes from standing at the front of a classroom. A visiting instructor is sowing resentment among his class by showing obvious favoritism? She’s a muse. A graduate TA with a history of violence is dating one of her students—again—and no one seems to care? Muse. My personal metonym for all the ways one can reveal themselves to be unworthy of pedagogical authority.

But at seventeen, the structure of this violation wasn’t clear to me. What was clear was that a man I looked up to was doing something stupidly reckless, and endangering my high school experience for no good reason. I wanted it all to go away. I wanted Bryce to stop romanticizing, I wanted the aggrieved to stop complaining, I wanted Creative Writing class to go back to being an uncomplicated good thing that I could feel special for being a part of.

If you read Hailey’s post, you know more details of Bryce’s unconscionable extracurricular behavior than I did at the time. I avoided the rumors. I kept myself willfully ignorant of any available details. But, of course, others did not. The situation became a quiet scandal. The administration got involved. Parents got involved. Other students got involved. (It’s my behavior toward another student at that time I most regret. My classmate, Laura, spoke out against Bryce. I condescendingly criticized her for increasing the likelihood of our school year being disrupted—the one time I remember actively privileging my own convenience over Hailey’s experiences. Laura quite rightly told me to fuck off. We were never really friends again.)

I already told you how this ends. Bryce was given the option to resign rather than be fired for cause. It’s possible he courted the sympathy of his superiors the same way he did from me, by saying, “If I were to be fired for this reason, my wife would leave me.” I don’t know. I do know, though, that shortly before his resignation he spoke to my parents at their house, wanting to give his side of the story. My mother reports Bryce to have explained that it was physically impossible for him to have done anything wrong in his relationship with Hailey, because, you see, he was impotent due to his alcoholism. My mother, herself a lifelong educator, was as unimpressed by this excuse as one might imagine. She informed him there are lines a teacher simply doesn’t cross, and wrote a letter to the school.

Bryce resigned. The administration avoided public incident. Time passed. The students grew up. I grew up to decide that it’s super fucking creepy when men in their forties weave elaborate aesthetic justifications for blatant, doe-eyed crushes on fourteen-year-old girls. Hailey grew up into someone with the bravery to share the details of how Bryce Milligan used his muse—a process that I now know involved prolonged grooming and sexual harassment of a minor. The person she describes, with his gifts, exhortations, and “artistic” fetishization, is one that I recognize. It’s a shape that fits seamlessly alongside my own experiences of the man. I believe all of it.

Originally this post ended with the previous paragraph, but now I have more to add. I reached out to Hailey and we spent the afternoon chatting. She mentioned that Bryce had contacted her after her initial post. She put up a video about that experience. During our conversation, she also shared his message with me, and gave me permission to publish it:

Let’s take this apart. He opens with “I’m so very sorry for what happened,” but follows that up with an intriguingly ambiguous “I’ve rarely set foot in a classroom since because of it.” Why has he rarely done so? Because he can’t trust himself in such a situation not to take advantage of young girls? Because doing so risks exposure of that which had been successfully kept quiet? More importantly, what is he sorry for, his behavior during “what happened,” or the limiting consequences thereof on his ability to teach?

If one didn’t believe Hailey, one might read his avoidance of classrooms to mean he feels he must protect himself from future false accusation, but Bryce himself undermines that reading in the next line. “I know there is nothing I can do to make it up to you” he writes, indicating he believes himself to have transgressed in some manner. But having made this admission, he backpedals. He recalls theirs being a vaguely innocuous relationship that was “about creativity,” and implies that if Hailey believes otherwise it’s the result of post-hoc rationalization. Despite this insinuation that any abuse of power on his part was all in her head, Bryce follows by saying that, whatever he did in service of “creativity,” it’s something for which he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. Not that it stops him from immediately requesting forgiveness anyway. Taken at face value, that’s an example of entitlement so stark it could almost serve as a definition—”I feel I’ve an inherent right to request you give me something of which I am objectively undeserving.” But I think it ought not be taken at face value.

This message, with its blend of nonspecific apology, blanket denial, and plea for immediate absolution, reads to me not as contrition but as damage control. It’s an attempt to make a problem go away. I wrote previously that the experiences Hailey described in outing Bryce Milligan’s abuses fit seamlessly with my own memories of his inclination for self-centered romanticizing of teenage students as fuel for his artistic life. I include this addendum because it goes beyond assurances from adolescent memory. If one believes Hailey, as I do, the intent behind this message is clear. If one does not believe Hailey—as I already know some who will be reading this don’t—then this message forces one to ask how exactly Bryce believes himself to have wronged her that he should seek a forgiveness for which he assesses himself undeserving.

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tillerman1 · 7 years

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WOZZECK (The opera by Alban Berg translated by Thomas Jester)

Alban Berg after the drama fragment Woyzeck by Georg Büchner PREMIERE December 14, 1925, Berlin (Staatsoper Unter den Linden) PERSONS Wozzeck (Baritone and speaking voice) DRUM MAJOR (Tenor) ANDRES (tenor speaking voice) CAPTAIN (Tenor) DOCTOR (Bass) FIRST CRAFTS GUY (Bass and speaking voice) SECOND CRAFTS GUY (baritone, possibly Tenor) THE FOOL (Tenor) MARIE (soprano) Margret (Alt) MARY KNABE CHORUS (soldiers and boys; maids and prostitutes; children) PLACE A German town with military and university TIME 1820

FIRST ACT FIRST SCENE ROOM OF CAPTAIN. (Early-morning) [Wozzeck shaves the Captain.] CAPTAIN (Captain on a chair before a Mirror.) Slowly, Wozzeck, slowly! One aft' the Other! (Unwillingly) It makes me all dizzy. (covers forehead and - [Wozzeck interrupts his work.] eyes with the hand. again calms Wozzeck shaves - with Interruptions - continues) WHAT shall I for with the 10 of minutes develop, that He now to prompt finished is? (Energetic) Wozzeck, recall It, It has still of it's lovely 30 Years to exist! 30 Annum: makes three hundred and sixty Months Ago and 1st how much daily, hours, of minutes! What will It for with the monumental Time all develop? (Again strictly) Deal It self one, WOZZECK!

WOZZECK Yes Sir!, Lord Captain!

CAPTAIN (Mysteriously) It is me quite angst by the World, when I at the Eternal think. "Timeless", that is ever! {This looks he on.} Now is it but again not ever, rather a Split-second. yes. a Split-second! Wozzeck, it shudders me, when I believe, that self the WORLD in ANy DAY turns Around: drum can I too no Millwheel more see, either I will melancholy!

WOZZECK Yes Sir!, Lord Captain!

CAPTAIN Wozzeck, he looks always so inFLAMED out! A healthy Man does that not. A healthy Man, who his a good conscience of has, DOES ALL THE slow... (almost spoken, in Timing) Red He but what, Wozzeck. What is now for a Weather?

WOZZECK Much bad, Lord Captain! Wind!

CAPTAIN I feel't nice, s'is so what Gifts the wind outside; so a Wind makes me the Ef- fect, as is a Mouse.

(smart) I trust, we're having so what of South-North?

WOZZECK Yes Sir!, Lord Captain!

CAPTAIN (laughs uproariously) South-North! (laughs still noisy) Oh, He is dumb, all abhorrent dumb! (touched) Wozzeck, He is a righteous Man, (sets himself in posture) although... He Has never Moral! (With much dignity) Moral: that is, when one morally is! (Percieve He? It is a sterling Word.) (With pathos) He has a child without the Blessing of The Church, WOZZECK (interrupts himself) Yes Si...

CAPTAIN as of our most reverend Lord Garrison's minister says: "Without the Blessing of The Church" (the Word is not from me.) WOZZECK Lord Captain, the love of God will the needy worm not drum prestige, if the Amen about it stated is, eh ' he rendered has been. THE LORD SAID: "Suffer the Little to me come! ' CAPTAIN (mad jump) What says He there?! What IS THAT for someone cuRIOUS ANSWER? (With the voice about-gasping) It makes me all confused! When I saga: .."He", so mean I "Him", "Him"...

WOZZECK WE NEEDY PROLES! You-See, Lord Captain, Cash, Cash! HE NO Cash-has! There put again either Of-his-equal on the respectable Kind in the World! One has too his Flesh and Blood! Yes, when I a Lord would, and would unite cap and someone Clock and on Eye-glasses and can nobly persuade, I wanted nice virtuous be! There must what Lovely be by the Virtue, Lord Captain. Although I am a needy Guy! Of-our-one is yet again unlucky in of this and the other World! I THINK, when we in the Heaven arrive, so would have we thunder help!-

CAPTAIN(Somewhat bewildered) Nice GOOD, Nice GOOD! (Soothingly) I know: He is a righteous Man, (Exaggerated) a righteous Man (Somewhat more composed) Although He THINKS too much, that drunk. He looks always so kinDLED OUT. (concerned) The Discourse Has me agitated. Go He now, and race He not so! Go He slowly the Pavement descending. (Wozzeck wants himself rapidly removing) exact in the Middle, AND AGAIN go He slowly nice slowly! (Wozzeck off) [Curtain to]

[TRANSFORMATION]

SECOND SCENE FREE FIELD, THE CITY IN THE DISTANCE (Late afternoon. Woyzeck and Andres cutting sticks in Bushes.)

WOZZECK: You, the Place is accursed!

ANDRES: (continues working) OH WHAT!

ANDRES (sings forth himself go) That is the lovely Jägerei (huntsmanship), Pop is Any frei (free)! Since should I Hunter sein (be): Since should I hin (go).

WOZZECK: The Place is accursed! Seest You the narrow streak there over the Grass out Where the Sponges so grow again? Since rolls Evening a Head. Picked him again Unit on, thought, it had a Hedgehog.

WOZZECK Three days for and three evenings it, and he lay on the Slicer-shavings.

ANDRES: It is gloomy, that makes You angst. Egg what!

ANDRES (listening With the Job on, presents himself in Posture and sings) Runs there a hat vorbei (passing), Asks me, if I Hunter sei (be)? Hunter have I too nice continued. Shooting can I Although NIGHT!-

WOZZECK: Still, Andres! That had been the Freemasons! I have! The Free- masons! Still! Still! ANDRES (interrupts the singing) "Sea- ted there two Ha- sen [Rabbits], Eat- ing from that the green {Grass}..... (Both listening intently.) Then-)

ANDRES: (even somewhat distressed; as for Wozzeck and himself to calm) Sing rather by!

ANDRES (stomps on) Eating from that the green Grass to... WOZZECK: (likewise) Void!

(ANDRES becomes interrupted)

WOZZECK: All the void!-

ANDRES (sets on) on the Ra{sen} (hurtle) WOZZECK: A Gorge! It sways! (he staggers) Hear You, it wanders that with us there below! (in highest Angst) On, on! ANDRES (Holds Wozzeck back)

WOZZECK (will Andres with himself tear)

ANDRES: HEY, are You mad?

WOZZECK: (remains standing) it's curious still. And close. One would like the Breathing encourage... (stares in the Area)

ANDRES: What?

(The Sun is in Concept drowning. The latest sharp Beam _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ emerges the horizon_ _ _ _ _ _ WOZZECK: A Fire! A-

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ in the glaring Sunlight, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ to rather abruptly which (as deepest Darkness acting _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _- Fire! It moves from the planet in to Hea- ven and a Clamor descending

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Dawn follows, to which itself the Eye_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ gradually accustoms.) WOZZECK: like some Trumpets, How's apPROACH RINGS!

ANDRES:(With feigned Indifference) The Sun is under, indoors beat out you.

(ANDRES packs the cut Sticks together)

WOZZECK: Still, All The still, as would be the World dead.

ANDRES: Night! We have to home!

[Curtain slowly to]

(Both go slowly away.)

[Transformation Orchestral-Postlude and beginning Military music behind the Scene]

THIRD SCENE MARIE'S ROOM (Evening)

(Marie with her Child at Arm at Window.):

MARIE: Chin Bum, Chin Bum, Bum, Bum, Bum!

(The military music approaches themselves.)

MARIE: Hear Boy? There come they!

(The military music, with the Drum major at the Head arrives into the _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Alley before Marie's Window.) MARGRET: [on of the Street], (looks for window herein and speaks With Marie) What a Man! Like a Tree!

MARIE: (speaks the window out) He stands on his feet like a lion.

(The drum major greets herein. Marie waves friendly also.)

MARGRET: Egg what friendly Eye, Mrs. Neighbor! So that is one of her not used!

MARIE (sings before herself out) Soldiery, Soldiery are lovely Fellows! (interrupts the singing)

MARGRET: (always for Windows herein spoken) Your Eyes glisten yes!

MARIE: And when! What go You's at? Tote You your Eyes for Jewry and let them they Grooming: maybe glisten you even still, that one you for two Buttons sell could.

MARGRET: What You, You "Mr.s Bridesmaid "! I am a respectable Person, but You, that do Everyone, you peeps seven Pair leather Hosen through!

MARIE: (cries she at) Bitch! (beats the window to. The military music is suddenly - result of the supplied battered Window - inaudible become. Marie is alone with the Child.)

MARIE (erupt) Come, my Boy!

What the People intend! (takes the Boy in the Arm) Are just a poor Harlots child and make In Your Mother but so much Joy with To Your the dishonest Facial! (weighs the Child)

(very free) Alas popeia...Lassie, What catch You now on, Have a small Child and no Mann (man)! Egg, what ask I later, Sing I the throughout Night: Alas popeia, my sweeter Bu' (Boy), gives me no MAN nix thereto! Hansel, span Choose Your six White Horse on, Grant her to eating of's new, No Partner FLAGON THEY, No Water GUZZLE THEY, (notices, The Child is asleep.) louder chilly Wine must it be! Louder-chilly-Wine must-it-be! (Marie in Thoughts lost. It knocks at Window. [Marie goes along.]) (jump) Who there? (Jumping) Are You's, Franz? (Wozzeck on Window herein-speaking (the Window opening) Come herein!-

WOZZECK Can it! Must in the Depots!

MARIE Have Small Branch julienned for the Major? WOZZECK Yes, Marie. Oh...

MARIE What have you, Franz? You look so upset? WOZZECK: Pst,

WOZZECK Still! I have't out on! It was an Image at Heaven, and all the in Glow! I have Many on the Track! MARIE Man!

WOZZECK And now All The gloomy, gloomy.., Marie, it was again what, (He thinks) maybe… (Mysteriously) Is not is written: "And look, it was the Smoke on the Land, as a smoke from Oven."

MARIE Franz!

WOZZECK It is behind me here-proceeded to forth the Town. (in highest Exaltation) What should that can be?!

MARIE (very perplexed, tries him to calm) Franz! Franz! (holds him the Boy out) Your Boy!

WOZZECK (Absently) My boy... (without him to-see, likewise) My boy... Now must I on. (hastily off)

(MARIE goes from Window away.)

MARIE (alone with the Child, considers it painfully) That Man! So View-haunted! He has his Child not looked upon! He grabs nor over with the Proposal! What be so still, Boy. 'Fraid You? It is so gloomy, you think, one will blind; else seems it the Lantern herein! (Bursting) Oh! We needy Lot. I shut not out. It shudders me! (rushes to Door)

(Curtain rapidly on) [Transformation]

FOURTH SCENE STUDIER-ROOM OF DOCTOR (Sunny Afternoon). (Wozzeck enters on. Doctor hastens hastily Wozzeck contrary.)

DOCTOR DOCTOR What enjoy I, WozZECK? A Man a Word? Egg, egg, egg! WOZZECK What for, Lord Doctor?

DOCTOR I it witness, WozZECK, He has again been COUGHing, on the Pavement been coughing, barking like a Hound! MOVE I HIM THEREFORE ANY DAILY 3 PENNIES? WozZECK! THIS IS BAD! The world is bad, SO BAD!-

WOZZECK Although Lord Doctor, DOCTOR Oh!

WOZZECK when any the Nature comes! DOCTOR The Na- [1. Variation] ture comes! The Nature comes! Superstition, detestable superstition! (again ascend) Have I not demonstrated, that the Midriff to Desire subjected to is? The NaTure, WozZECK! THE MAN IS FREE! In the People transforms self the Individuality to Freedom! (head-shaking, more to himself) Coughing must be!

[2. Var.] (back to Wozzeck) HAS HE nice of his The Beans devoured, Wozzeck? None-than-The-Beans, None-than-Bushings-Fruits-of! NOTES HE SELF! The closest A Week begin we then with [3 Var.] MutTON-FLESH AT. It there is a Revolution in the KNOWLEDGE-STOCK: (on the fingers counting) PROTein, GREAses, MOnosaccharides; (great Gesture) & yes: Oxyaldehydanhydride... (likewise, suddenly furious) ALTHOUGH, HE has once more been COUGHING!

(occurs in Wozzeck to

[Var. 3] himself suddenly dominate)

No! I get angry me not, anger is unhealthy, is unscientific! I am quite peaceful, my Pulse has of its ordinary 60, Good-God, who will self over of a HUman anger! (with Warmth) When it still a NEWT would be, which Any indisposed will. (back violently) Although, Although, WozZECK, He should've yet not coughing be to!

[5. Var.] (Doctor: angry Gesture)

WOZZECK (the Doctor soothingly) See You, Lord Doctor, sometimes has man so a Character, so a Structure; although with-the-Nature-'tis-as-other's. (cracks with the Fingers) See You, with-the-Nature,.. DOCTOR WozZECK,-

WOZZECK that is so… DOCTOR He phi- lo- so- phized again! WOZZECK as should I for saying... for Sample:

[6. Var.] When-the-Nature... When-the-Nature out-is DOCTOR WHAT? When-the-Na- ture...

WOZZECK when the World so gloomy is, that man with the Hands Of on it groping about must, that man thinks, it trickles, like Spider-tissue.-Oh, when what is and but not

[7. Var.] is! Oh, Oh,

[8. Var.] Marie! When Each Thing obscure is, and (makes with outstretched Arms a pair large Steps through Room) just still an of red glow in the west, as from of a Chimney: on- DOCTOR Guy, He samples

WOZZECK what should man self there- DOCTOR with of his Feet Of a- round, as with

[9. Var.] WOZZECK (remains near the Doctor standing, confidential) main- tain? Lord Doctor. DOCTOR Spi- der-feet-of.

WOZZECK When the Sunlight at Midday stands, and it is, as would the World in Fire on,

[10. Var.] HAS NICE SOMEONE apprehensive suffrage to me vocalized. DOCTOR WOZZECK, He has someone-

[11. Var.] a(berrations)... WOZZECK (Interrupts the Doctor) The Sponges! Having you ev' the Rings of on the Sponges at Bottom made out?

[12. Var.] Lines-of-circles... Characters… If the reading could be!

[13. Var.] DOCTOR WOZZECK, HE COMES FROM A Fool HOUSE. He has someone lovely fiXE I- DEE, someone delicious

[14. Var.] aberratio mentalis partialis, second Types! MUCH NICE

EDUCATED!

[15. Var.] WOZZECK, HE GETS STILL MORE ALLOWANCE!

[16. Var.] Does He still All Things asset?: Shaved of his Captain? Traps keenly MOLCHE (newts)?

[17. Var.] Eats of his Kernels?

WOZZECK Always ORderly, Lord Doctor; for the CruET-cash gets-the WIFE: THEREFORE-

[18. Var.] DO I'S YES!

DOCTOR (not rushing) It is an interesting Case, think It self just good! WOZZECK, He-GET-yet A CENT MORE-Allowance.

(WOZZECK without himself around the doctor to worry)

DOCTOR What must He although do?-

WOZZECK Oh-Marie! Marie! DOCTOR What must He do? What? WOZZECK Oh!

[19. Var.] DOCTOR THE BEANS BOLT DOWN, then-Mutton-flesh-consume, no coughing, OF HIS CAPTAIN SHAving, in-between the FIX- E I- DEE maintain!

[20. Var.] (always more in Ecstasy falling) Oh! OF MY THEOry! Oh my Fame! I'M GOING famed! Immortal! Immortal!

[20. Var.] (in highest Ecstasy) Deathless! (suddenly again quite objectively, to Wozzeck approach-stepping) WOZZECK, show He me now the Pointer! (Wozzeck obeys.) [The Curtain falls initially very fast, then suddenly slowly, _ _ _ _ around themselves _ _ _ _all gradually to conclude]

[TRANSFORMATION] [Curtain rapidly on]

FIFTH SCENE (Street before Mariens door. Dusk.)

MARIE (stands admiringly before the Drum Major) Go again forth You out. (Drum major in Posture, makes some marching steps) About the Breast like a Bull and a Beard like a Lion. So is Neither! I am proud forth any Females!

DRUM MAJOR When I just am Sunday the major Feather-bush have and the of-white Mitten! THUNDER WEA-THER The Prince says always: Man! He is a Dude!

MARIE(Sarcastically) Oh what! (comes before him towards admiringly) Man!

DRUM MAJOR And You are too a Woman! 'pon my soul! We intend someone Breed of Drummer-majors buckle-on. What?! (he encompasses she)

MARIE LET ME! (will herself tear.) [They wrestle together]

DRUM MAJOR Savage-Pet!

MARIE(tears herself loose) Stir me not to!

[Drum-major directed himself in all Size on.] (Occurs close to Marie zoom; insistently) Looks You the Devil out the Eyes Of?! (he encompasses her again, this-time with almost threatening Determination)

MARIE Suppose-because. it is All-the one!

(She falls in his Arms _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and disappears with him_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ in the open Doorstep_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Empty Stage)

{Curtain falls}

SECOND ACT

[Sonata Movement. Exposition: Main Theme] 1. Marie's room. (Morning Sunshine.) (Marie, her child on the Lap, holds a Scrap Mirror in the Hand and inspects herself therein.)

MARIE What the Pebbles shining? What are's for a soft? What has he expressed? (considers)

[2nd Theme]

(to her Boy. which himself moved has) Sleep Boy! [head voice] (The child hides his eyes behind his hands) Push the Eyes Of to ... fixed. Yet solid! Stay so! (The child moves himself again) Still, either he gets-You!

[Concluding Theme] (with adjusted uncanny, but simultaneously with jaunty, almost exuberant Expression) Lassie, do't Shutters to There's on Zigeunerbu' (the Gypsy's bus) Leads You by of his Hand on 'tward the GYPsy LAND. (The child has - in highest Angst - his Head in the Wrinkles of Dress his Mother hidden, where it all still holds.)

[Marie inspects herself again at Mirror]

[Expositon Repeat]

It's certain Gold! Likes of us have just a Corner in the World and a Snippet Mirror. (Bursting) (Bursting) And yet have I of a so the red Mouth, as the major Madamen with to their Mirror from above to below and to their lovely Lord, the to them the Hands of kissing; although I am just A NEEDY WOMAN! (The child directs himself up) [angry] Still! Boy! The EYES OF TOO! (blinks in the Mirror) The Sleep-li'l-angel; how's on the Wall runs.

(The Child obeys not)

(almost angry blinks again with the Mirror.) Do the EYES OF TO! Either it sees You inside, that You BLIND WILL...

(Woyzeck enters herein, behind Marie. Marie, the motionless, like the frightened Child, the Effect her game with the mirror awaiting, sees Wozzeck initially not.) (Suddenly she moves on, with hands to her ears.)

WOZZECK What hast there?

MARIE Nil!

WOZZECK Under To Your Fingers shines Yes. MARIE An ear-lil'-ring, got discovered... (Wozzeck looks the Ear-Little-Ring searchingly on)

WOZZECK I have so thing still not discovered, (somewhat threatening) two at (Soothingly) a-time, It's good, Marie! MARIE (rebellious) Am I a bad Soul?

WOZZECK It's good (turns himself for boy) What the boy always sleeps! Cross him under's Lil' Arms, the Stool nips him. (hesitantly) The shining Droplets stand him on the Brow... None than Working under the Sunlight, even Sweat at Sleep. We needy Folk! (in very modified Tone) There is again Cash, Marie, the Wages and what the Captain and the Doctor.-

MARIE (free in beat) God reward, Franz. WOZZECK I must on, Marie... Adies! (off)

MARIE (alone) I am but a

BAD SOUL. I can me stab

to death. Oh! what World! Goes but Each Thing the Devil: Man and Wife and Child!

(Curtain falls quickly)

{TRANSFORMATION}

SECOND SCENE STREET IN THE CITY (Day.) [The Captain and the Doctor meet themselves.]

CAPTAIN (really from the Distance) Whither so hurried, adorable Lord Coffin-nail?

DOCTOR (much hurry) Whither so sluggish, adorable Sir Exercise-angel? (hasten further)

CAPTAIN (wants the Doctor, who rapidly continues, catch, draws deeply and noisily Breath) Adopt You self Time! Hurry You not so! Uff! DOCTOR Hurry!

CAPTAIN Hurry You not! (with the Voice somewhat to snap) A healthy Man goes not so fast. A healthy Man... DOCTOR Hurry, hurry!-

CAPTAIN (always breathless) A healthy... You hurry self just (to snap) after the Death where!

(The Doctor at Walking something on reserved, so that him the captain catches, annoyed, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ him sometimes-) DOCTOR I can of my Time not pilfer. Hur- (at Rock gets, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ until he him finally holds.) -ry, hurry, hurry! CAPTAIN Although hasten You not so, Lord Box-rivet! You Sharpen Yes Of Your leg legs on the Pavement from. [holds the Doctor finally firmly;] (between the individual Words deep panting) Authorize it, that I (himself slowly reassuring) a Human-being rescue - (deep breath)

DOCTOR (slowly continues-walking)

CAPTAIN (2nd Breath) DOCTOR (decides himself, the captain hearing for smart) Ms. in four Weeks Of dead! (remains again standing, mysteriously) Cancer uteri. (will continue) Endure yet twenty suchlike in-patients retained. In four weeks of-

CAPTAIN Doctor, frighTENing You me not! There are yet People at Fright departed, the unmixed shining Fright! DOCTOR in four Weeks Of! Is an interesting Specimen,

(completely pausing, coolly the Captain checking)

CAPTAIN Oh oh oh...

DOCTOR (comfortable) And you self! Hm! Intumescent, fat, swollen Neck, infuriated constitutional! (falsetto) Yes, Lord Top dog, (mysteriously) It can well someone apoplexia cerebral obtain; You can well you although maybe just on the SINGLE side of be coming. (falsetto) Yes! You may well too on the single side of crippled become, (Again very mysterious) either in the best Case just below!

CAPTAIN (Groaning) By Yahweh...

DOCTOR (overflowing, enthusiastic) (falsetto) Yes! That is so more or less of your likelihood for the coming 4 WEEKS OF! By the way can I You reassure, that You unite from the interesting Cases deliver become, and when God will, that of your The Tongue for Part crippled is, so produce we the immortal-first (free) EXPERIMENTAL.

(Doctor will with rapid change hasten away.)

CAPTAIN (reaches quickly for the doctor and holds him firmly.) Halt, Doctor! I'm leaving You not! Box-rivet! Killing-friend! In four Weeks of? (already all breathless) There are nice People at of pure Fright... (with the Voice around gasping) Doctor! (coughs before Excitement and Effort) (breathes deep) (coughs) (breathes)

DOCTOR (knocks the Captain on the back, as him the Coughing to facilitate)

CAPTAIN (coughs becoming weaker) (touched) I witness nice the Peo- ple with the Sack- blankets forth the Eyes Of. (always stirred) Although they tend to utter: "He was a righteous Man, a righteous man." DOCTOR (who embarrassingly touched is and diverting seeks, sees Wozzeck) WOZZECK (going rapidly past, salutes)

DOCTOR Hey, WOZZECK!-

WOZZECK (remains standing)

DOCTOR What runs Him self so at us along?

WOZZECK (salutes and will again go)

DOCTOR Stay He still, WOZZECK!

WOZZECK (is finally available and comes slowly back.)

CAPTAIN (again taken, to Wozzeck) He runs just as on an open Razor-cutter through the Wide, one GASHES SELF ON HIM!

[THE CAPTAIN considers Wozzeck closer, who silent and serious stands . Turning himself therefore - slightly ashamed - on Doctor [With innuendo on the (full) disclosed]. He runs, as would He the Full whiskers any Universities in to shaving on, and would be hanging, so LONG STILL ONE FINAL HAIR…

FUGUE

1.THEME

CAPTAIN Yes bang on, (wheezy) THE LENGTHY Whis- kers... (speculating) {what wanted I but utter?} (here and there in Thoughts whistling) (always still musing) the lengthy Whiskers

2.THEME

DOCTOR (quoting) "An of long Beard sunk in the Chin"- {hm!} (CAPTAIN takes through the Evocation of DOCTOR thereon and-) nice Pliny speaks from that.-

(CAPTAIN beats himself on the Forehead)

(DOCTOR with Reference) You must him the CAPTAIN Ha!-

DOCTOR MEN- AT- ARMS DISENGAGE... CAPTAIN (again very significant) [The doctor hears from here on amused the captain on and humming here and there his Theme, Indian he with his Cane, (like a Baton) the Clock thereto marks] I've it- THE LENGTHY WHISKERS What's it, Wozzeck? Has He not a Hair out any Beard in of its Basin discovered? Ha-ha! He percieves me yet? A Hair from any Humans, from Beard of a Sappers, either of an Underofficer, in turn of a Drummermajors. (as)

DOCTOR Hey, WOZZECK? Although He has but a bEHAVED Wife?

WOZZECK What intend you thereby utter, Lord Doctor, and You, Lord Captain?!

CAPTAIN What the Guy for a Facial makes! Now! When too not grade in the bouillon, although when Him self flies and by the Corner runs, so can He perhaps on any Pair Lips look one locate! A Hair namely! (sweetly) By The Way, a Pair Her lips! O! I have to so again the Amour feeling! (in quite modified Tone) ALTHOUGH, GUY, He is just blackboard white!

WOZZECK Lord Captain, I am a needy Devil! Have else not in of this World! Lord Captain, when You Fun produce...-

CAPTAIN (irascible) Fun? I? THAT YOU THE...

WOZZECK Lord Captain,-

CAPTAIN Fun!

WOZZECK the Earth is To Some HADES-HOT- the Hades is cold however,- DOCTOR (taking the Pulse Wozzeck's) The Pulse, WozZECK! CAPTAIN Guy, will Him self it GUN DOWN? DOCTOR Low...-

WOZZECK Lord...

CAPTAIN HE STABS ME SO- DOCTOR hard...

CAPTAIN WITH HIS OWN EYEBALLS! I mine's good with Him, since He a righteous- DOCTOR (considers Wozzeck searchingly) arrhythmic- the- WOZZECK (wrests his hand to Doctor) (before himself out, but with enhancement) Lord Captain... It is much likely...

CAPTAIN (touched) Man is, Wozzeck, a right- eous Man! DOCTOR face muscles stiff, agog, Eyes of bull. WOZZECK The Man... it is much likely... GOD IN HEAVEN ONE JUST MIGHT Lust get into, self on to hanging! THEN WOULD KNOW ONE, whereto one is! (rushes, without to greet, thereof) (off) CAPTAIN (looks Wozzeck enter after) How the Guy runs and his shadow afterwards!

DOCTOR He is a Nonpareil, this here WOZZECK!

CAPTAIN I be quite dizzy (nasal) forth the Human! (likewise) And how desperate! (normal) That did I not like!

[The Doctor, who a new outburst feared, sets himself at this word of Hauptmann - as remembering he himself the Hurry to Beginning of Scene, on Move.] A righteous Man is GRATEFUL AROUND God; a righteous Man has too never CouRAGE! Just a scoundrel (closes himself the doctor at) has courage! (already in Departure) Just a scoundrel!.. (behind the Scene) Scoundrel...

Transformation - Over-conducting Bars and Chamber-orchestra-introduction

THIRD SCENE STREET BEFORE MARIENS DOOR (Gloomy Day) [Marie is before her Door. Wozzeck comes on the sidewalk quickly on them to.]

MARIE: Solid Day, Franz.

WOZZECK:(sees her rigid at and shakes the Head) I see not, I see not, O, one need's say, one need's to grab allowed-

WOZZECK in to His FISTS!

MARIE: What has, Franz?

WOZZECK: Are You's still, Marie?! Someone Offense, so thick and wide. That should smell bad, that they the Angels for HEAVEN BEYOND INCENSE CAN.

WOZZECK Although You-

WOZZECK: have of a redden Mouth, of a redden Mouth- any bubble it? MARIE: You are raving-mad, Franz, I fear me...-

WOZZECK:(with some voice) You are fine

WOZZECK "as the Offence",

WOZZECK: Although can the mortal sin so fine be, Marie? (shows suddenly on a Stop before the Door, irascible) There! Did he there be erect,

WOZZECK(in posture) so, SO?

MARIE: I can the People the Alley not prohibit...-

WOZZECK: DEVIL! Did he there be erect?

MARIE: That since the Day long and the World old is, can too many People in any Places stand, one of aft' the others. WOZZECK: I have him discerned!

MARIE: One can much see, [Wozzeck can of himself ever less control] when you two Eyes of have and when you not blind is, and when the Sunlight shines. WOZZECK: (erupt) You with him! MARIE(pertly) And when too!-

WOZZECK: (goes on her off, screaming) Man!

MARIE: Stir me not at! [Wozzeck lets slowly the raised hand fall] Better a Dagger in the Flesh, than is a Hand on me. (at Departure) My Father hath not ventured, as I ten Years old was... (the House away)

WOZZECK: (looks her fixedly towards) "Better a Dagger"...

(shyly whispering) The Man is an Abyss, it dizzy Any, (in Abandonment) when you downward-behold am dizzy (off) [Empty Stage]

(transformation)

[Over Leading bars and orchestra-prelude] (Landler)

[Curtain slowly on]

1ST CRAFTS-GUY I have a-

FOURTH SCENE TAVERN-GARDEN. (Late evening.) [The TavernMusic on the stage ends just the Landler of Orchestra-Prelude. Boys, Soldiers and Maids on the Dancefloor, partly dancing, partly watching.]

1ST CRAFTS-GUY Costume on, that is not my, And my own Psyche stinks to Branded-wine. 2ND CRAFTS-GUY That is not my...

[The boys, soldiers and maids leave slowly the Dancefloor and gather themselves in Groups. A Group around the two drunken Artisans.]

1ST CRAFTS GUY My own Psyche, my own everlasting Psyche, stinketh to Branded-wine! It stinketh, and I know not, wherefore? Why do be the World so sorry? Too the Cash goes in corruption about! 2ND CRAFTS GUY ForGET MY NOT! BROthers! Friendship! (hugging the 1ST CRAFTS GUY) Why do be the World so Nice! I want, our own noses would be two bottles OF, AND WE COULD BE THEY US EACH OTHER in the Neck molding.-

FIRST CRAFTS GUY Of my psy- che, of my the im- mortal psyche- 2ND CRAFTS GUY The throughout world is roses-red! Brandy, this is my Liv- ing!

FIRST CRAFTS GUY stinketh. Oh! This is sorry, sorry, sor- ry, sor- (sleeps on)

WALTZ

(The boys, soldiers and maids go themselves back to the dancefloor and begin to dancing. Among them: Marie and the Drum-major. Wozzeck enters hastily on, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ sees Marie, she with the drum major passing-dancing.)

WOZZECK: He! They! Devil!

MARIE (in passing Dancing) Always to, always to!

WOZZECK: "Always to, always to!"

(Wozzeck sinks to a bank in the vicinity the dance floor.) [Before himself down]

WOZZECK: Turns you! Rolls you! Why do clears God the sunlight not out? All circulate themselves in fornication about-one-another: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Man and woman, man and beast! (looks back on the dancefloor toward) Woman! Woman! The woman is hot! is hot! hot!... (moves violently on) As he to her around engages! On her body! And she laughs this!

MARIE Always to! DRUM MAJOR Always to!

[Wozzeck set in ever greater excitement_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ can finally no longer at himself hold_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and will on the dancefloor rush,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ refrains it however, because the dance finished is. He sits himself again.] MARIE Always to! DRUM MAJOR Always to! WOZZECK: Damn! I...

GUYS, SOLDIERS A Hunter from the clive Rode once through single the green woods! Halli, Hello, Halli, Hello! Yes funny is the huntsmanship, all here on of green Haid! Halli, Hello! Halli, Hello! ANDRES[The Guitar poignant, plays himself as conductor of Chorus on and gives a Ritardando, so that it in the fade the Chord the Chorus use can] (droning) O Daughter, precious Daughter, What do You intend, that You Thee to the Coachman And the teamster have strung UP? GUYS, SOLDIERS Hallo! Hallo! Yes funny is the huntsmanship, all here on of green Haid! Halli, Hello! Halli, Hallo! ANDRES (gives the guitar to player from the inn music back and turns himself for Wozzeck)

WOZZECK How much Clock?

ANDRES 'leven

WOZZECK So? I means, it must later be! The time is Any long with the Dis- port - ANDRES What sit- test You there forth the Door?- WOZZECK I seat Good there. There are certain Folk close to the Door (The Stage music becomes ever more from orchestra) and know it not, till one they to Door also bears, the Feet ahead! ANDRES You sittest hard.-

WOZZECK GOOD sit I, and in cooling Grave, as lie I then still better...

(Andres, bored and with the idea already more at Dance, turns himself from Wozzeck away.)

ANDRES Art roaring drunk?-

WOZZECK No, sadly, bring's night calm, (again alone on the bench) ANDRES (whistling)

MELODRAMA

[The first Craft-lad, who meanwhile woken is, rises on a table and starts by the tavern music on the stage melodramatic accompannying, to preaching.]

FIRST CRAFTS GUY: Although, when a wanderer, who leaning is to the Flow of Time, either although self the angelic wisdom anticipated and inquire: Why did be the Man? (with Pathos) Although

indeed, beloved Listeners, I saga You: (raptured) It is good so! For from WHAT WOULD'VE THE LAND-MAN, THEKegbinder, THETailor, THEDoc lifetime be to, when God the People not created would've? From what would've the Tailor lifetime be to, when He not the People the sensation of modesty implanted WOULD HAVE? From what the soldier and the Host, when He him not with the desire of Dead shootings and the Clamminess implemented would've? Therefore, most beloved, distrust not; for it is All The lovely and fine... (in quite other tone) Although all the UnDERGROUND is IDLE; still the Cash goes in Corruption over... And of my psyche stinks to Branded wine. (General Hoot! The speaker becomes surrounded and by one Part the lads discharged. The Other respectively themselves singing part for Dancefloor, partly to the Tables in Background.)

BURSHIPS, SOLDIERS Yes funny is the pursuing, Halli! ANDRE (also in the background outgoing) O Daughter, precious Daughter!

(The Fool dive suddenly on and approaches himself the Wozzeck, who however, [indifferent to the operations], on the Bank front sat has. While the instrumentalists of the House music their instruments to tune begin, urges himself The Fool on Wozzeck close.

THE FOOL (quite close at Wozzeck) Droll, droll... (Wozzeck respected the Fool initially not.) (sly) ...although it smells ...

WOZZECK FOOL, what WANT You?

THE FOOL I smell, I smell blood! WOZZECK Blood? Blood,Blood!

(The fellows, maids, and soldiers, among them Marie and the Drummer major, begin again to dance.)

WOZZECK Me will red forth the Eyeballs. Me Is, as rotate they self any over each other

{Curtain falls quickly}

{Transformation}

SCENE 5 Guardroom in the barracks (night). Wordless choir the Sleeping Soldiers, initially at Closed Curtain. Andres lies With Wozzeck on one Flatbed and sleeping.

(The Soldiers lie on wooden Planking and sleep. At the Words Wozzeck's become they restless, without but on to Awaken.)

WOZZECK (Moans in the sleep) Oh- Oh- (Ascending) ANdres! ANdres! I can not slumber. When I the Eyeballs cinching, then see I them but always, and I hear the Fiddles constantly, constantly. AND THEN saith from the Wall out- side Hear You nil, Andres? How the geigt and jumps?

ANDRES (sleepy) Let them hoof it!

WOZZECK And In between shines it always forth the Eyeballs like a DAGGER, LIKE A SPREAD OUT DAGGER!-

ANDRES SLEEP, FOOL!

WOZZECK My Lord and God, (prays) AND conduct us not in Temptation, Amen

(Wordless song the sleeping soldiers)

DRUM MAJOR (Bobbing, Strongly Cheerful, in) I am a Man! I have a Woman, I tell him, a Woman! To Breed from Drummermajors! A Bosom and The Legs! and each thing fixed. The Eyeballs like fiery Charcoal. I tell him. IN SHORT A WOMAN,

ANDRES Hey! Who is it then?

DRUM MAJOR Ask He the WozZECK THERE! (Pulls a Schnapps-flask from the Bag, drinking respectively from and keeps they The Wozzeck out) There, Guy, drink! I want, the World would Schnapps, Schnapps, the Man must guzzle! (drinks again) Drink, Guy, drink! (Wozzeck looks away and whistles.)

DRUM MAJOR (screaming) Guy, should I You the Tounge out the neck pull and it You 'round the Flesh SWADDLE?

[The Drum Major & Wozzeck wrestle with one (an)other. Wozzeck governed.] (choking which at ground lying Wozzeck) SHALL I YOU STILL SO MUCH Breathing allow, as an Old-woman, fart? (over Wozzeck bent) Should I... (The drum major leaves from Wozzeck off, directed himself on and pulls the schnappsflask out the Bag) (Wozzeck sinks exhausted around.) NOW should the Guy whistle! (drinks again) DARKNESS-BLUE should him self whistle! (whistles same Melody as earlier Wozzeck, triumphant) What am I for a man! (turns himself for Leave and rumbles to Door out. The Door beats to. Scene without Drum Major. Wozzeck Has himself however slowly raised and on his Flatbed set.)

A SOLDIER (at Wozzeck pointing) He has his Fat!

ANDRES He raw. . . (The Soldier lays himself around _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and sleeps on) (Andres lays himself around _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and sleeps on) WOZZECK The One aft' The Other! (remains sitting and stares before himself out.) [The other Soldiers, who themselves during of wrestling some on straightened had, have themselves after the Outgoing of drum majors- one after the other- resigned _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and sleep now all again.]

CURTAIN FALLS

THIRD ACT FIRST SCENE MARIE'S ROOM (it is Night. Candlelight). (Marie sits at [the] Table, leafing in the Bible; the child in the Close.)

MARIE: "And is no Deceit in of his own Mouth invented has been"...

MARIE Lord-God! Lord-God! See me not at!

VARIATION 1

(scrolls on and reads again)

MARIE: Although the Separatists guided a Girl to him, so in Cuckoldry dwelled in. Jesus although said: "So disparage I you too not, go-

VARIATION 2

out, and misbehave henceforth not more."

MARIE Lord-God! (strikes her Hands the Face)

VARIATION 3 (The Child urges himself on Marie.) The Boy gives me special Stitch in Heart. Off! (pushes the Child from herself) That-

VARIATION 4 shield self in the Sunshine! (suddenly milder) No, come, come here! (pulls the Child to herself) Come to me!

VARIATION 5

MARIE: "It was firstly a needy Child and had never Father and never Mother was Each Thing dead and was No one in the World, and it has malnourished and shed tears Day and Night.

VARIATION 6

And since it No one more Had in the World...

MARIE That Franz Is nit COMing, BYgone nit, NOW nit,

VARIATION 7 (scrolls hastily in the Bible) HOW stands it reCORDed of the Magdalena?..

FUGUE

MARIE: "AndkneelingdownatofhisTheFeet andcrying andkissingofhisTheFeet andmoistenedshewithTEARDROPS andanointshewithOINTMENTS..."

MARIE (beats herself on the Breast) Saviour! I would like You the feet of SALVE! Saviour! YOU HAVE YOU OF THEIR PIty, have MERrcy You too I!

[Curtain falls slowly

Transformation

Curtain up]

SECOND SCENE FORESTPATH ATTHE POND. [It darkens.] (Marie comes With Wozzeck from the right.)

MARIE There left it's in the Town. It's still far. Come faster!

WOZZECK You shalt stick around, Marie. Come sit You

MARIE Although I must on. WOZZECK COME.

[They sit themselves.]

Are far proceeded, Marie. Should You the Feet Of not more sore running. It's still here! And so gloomy. Know still, Marie, how long it now is, that we us know of?

MARIE At Whitsun three annum.

WOZZECK And what mean, how long it still last for will? MARIE (jumps on) I MUST on.

WOZZECK Fear'st you, Marie? (laughs) And art but staunch? And good! And true!

(draws himself again to the Seat; tends himself, again earnest, to Marie) What You for sweetness her lips have,Marie! (kisses her) The Heaven would I drum and the Salvation, when I You still oft so LOCK lips may! Although I MAY not! What trembling?

MARIE The nightdew falls.

WOZZECK (whispering before himself out) Who cold is the freeze NOT more! You will when Morningdew not be cold. MARIE What say You there?

WOZZECK Nix.

[Long Silence. The Moon goes on.]

MARIE How the Moon red comes up!

WOZZECK Like a bloody Iron! (pulls a Knife)

MARIE What trembling? (jumps up) What want?

WOZZECK I don't, Marie! And no OTHer too not!

(grabs her on and pushes her the Knife in the Neck) MARIE Help!

[Marie sinks low.]

WOZZECK (bends himself over her.) Dead!

[Marie dies.] (addresses himself shy up _ _ _ _ and plunges noiselessly away_ _ _ _and indeed in three Stages)

[Curtain closes]

[TRANSFORMATION]

[Curtain quickly up)

THIRD ACT A TAVERN (Night. Weak Light.) [Whores, among them Margret, and Fellows dance a wild Quick-polka. Wozzeck sits at one the Tables.]

WOZZECK Dance You All; dance just on, jump, sweat and stinks it get You but STILL SOMEDAY SAtan! (plunges a Glass Wine down; the Piano-player over-screaming) It rididen three Horsemen well to the Rhein, near of a Frau Hostess there returned you ein (one)." My Wine is good, my Beer is clear, My Female-Child lies on the . . . DAMN IT! (jumps up) Come, Margret (dances With Margret a few Jumps. Remains suddenly standing) Come, sit You here, Mar- gret! (leads her to his Table and pulls her on his Lap down) (presses her to himself) Margret,Youaresohot... (lets her off) Wait just, will too cold become! Can not singing?

MARGRET (by Piano-player on the stage accompanied sings) in's Swabia there like I nit, AndlengthyDresses STAND I NIT, For lengthy Glad rags, top most Shoe, Whicharriveneither WORK WENCH TO.

WOZZECK (approaching) NO! NO ONE SHOE! you can too barefooted in the hell go! I'd like now scuffle, scuffle-

MARGRET Although what have You by the Hand?

WOZZECK I? I?

MARGRET Red! Blood!

WOZZECK Blood?- [It put themselves People around Margret and Wozzeck.] Blood? MARGRET Of course- Blood! WOZZECK I think, I have me jullienned, there at the right side-Hand- MARGRET How come's than for your own elbow? WOZZECK I've got to that towelled off. GUYS WITH the- RIGHT-SIDE HAND the right-side Hand MARGRET Phew!- WOZZECK What-

MARGRET Phew!- WOZZECK want You? What it's You on?- GUYS AT right-side POOR?-

MARGRET There stinks WHORES Of course,- WOZZECK Am I a killer?-

MARGRET to HUMAN-BLOOD! Of course to Hu- man blood! WOZZECK Space! or else it goes who FOR DEVIL! (Rushes out) WHORES there STINKS GUYS 1ST BASSES Blood! GUYS 2ND BASSES Blood! GUYS 1ST TENORS Blood! GUYS 2ND TENORS Blood, WHORES SOPRANOS to Human blood! Blood! WHORES ALTOS Of course to Hu- man blood! There.. [Curtain falls quickly] [TRANSFORMATION]

[Curtain up]

FOURTH SCENE FOREST-PATH AT THE POND. (Moonlight as before.)

(Wozzeck comes quickly forth being tottering. Remains looking standing.)

WOZZECK: THE RAZOR? Where is the razor? I've got there serenely... Closer, still closer. Me dread's! There stir self what. (running whispering) Still! Fully still and dead. (screaming) KILLER! KILLER! (again whispering) Ha! There call's. No, me self. (staggers seeking a few steps further and encounters on the corpse) MARIE! Marie! What have You for someone redness Cord 'round the Neck? Have You the redness Collar deserved,

WOZZECK as the Ear-li'l-ring, With private of-

WOZZECK: -fence! What be stuck You the blacken Ringlets so wild? Killer! Killer! They become aft' me search for The RAZOR BETRAYS ME! (seeks feverishly) There, there 'tis! (on Pond) So! there downward! (Throws the knife in) It dives 'to obscure water like a Stone. (The moon breaks blood-red behind the clouds out. Wozzeck looks up.) Although the Moon betrays me - The Moon is bloody. Want for the uncut World it spill the beans?! The Razor, it is too far front, they find it when Bathing or else when they for Mussels diving. (goes in the pond into)

WOZZECK(:) I find's not.

WOZZECK: Although I must me washing. I am bloody. Since a Stain - and more any. (plaintive) Sore! Sore! I laundry me with Blood! The Water is Blood... (drowns) Blood...

(The Doctor enters on.)

CAPTAIN(follows the Doctor, speaks): Halt!

DOCTOR (remains standing): Listen You? There!

CAPTAIN: Jesus! The War a sound. (Remains also standing)

DOCTOR (to the Pond pointing): Yes, there!

CAPTAIN: It is the water n'the pond. The Water calls. It is really long Nobody drowned. Come You, Doctor! It is not good to hear.

(The captain wants the doctor with himself pull. The Doctor remains but standing and listens)

DOCTOR: That groans- as died a Man. There drowns Someone!

CAPTAIN: Creepy! The moon red, and the Mist gray. Listen You? - now again the Groaning.

DOCTOR: Stiller,- now quite still.

[The Captain pulls the Doctor with him. The Doctor follows the Casptain quickly.]

CAPTAIN: Come You! Come You quickly.

[Curtain shut.]

FIFTH SCENE ROAD BEFORE MARY'S DOOR. (Brighter morning, sunshine.) [Children play and clamor. Mary's boy on a Hobbyhorse riding.]

(THE PLAYING) CHILDREN Ringlet, Ringlet, Rosary, Sounds of Spring! Ringlet, Ringlet, Rosary, Sounds...(Interrupting Singing and Play) (OTHER CHILDREN rush in) ONE OF THEM: You Kate!- That Marie...

SECOND CHILD: What is?

FIRST CHILD: Know it not? They are already All out.

THIRD CHILD (To Mary's boy): You! Your mother is dead!

MARY'S BOY(Always riding) Hopp, hopp! Hopp, hopp! Hopp, hopp!-

SECOND CHILD: Where is she then?

FIRST CHILD: Outside lies she, on Way, beside the Pond.

THIRD: Come - watch!

(All children run away.)

MARY'S BOY (rides) Hopp, hopp! ([alone] hesitates a Moment and riding then the other children after.---------------------------------------) Hopp, hopp! Hopp, hopp!-(off). [Empty Stage.]

CURTAIN FALLS

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slrlounge1 · 5 years

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Tips To Overcome Bad Weather From 14 Wedding Pros

Melissa Jill – Website | Instagram

Jared Gant – Website | Instagram

JD Land – Website | Instagram

Aaron Story – Website | Instagram

Dave Shay – Website | Instagram

Paco Van Leeuwen – Website | Instagram

[Read: 8 Rainy Day Wedding Photography Tips You Need To Know]

Scott Josuweit – Website | Instagram

Matt Gruber – Website | Instagram

Alex Pasarelu – Website | Instagram

Shannon Cain – Website | Instagram

Nicole Chan – Website | Instagram

Christophe Viseux – Website | Instagram

Christi Chambers – Website | Instagram

Abul Shah – Website | Instagram

There’s no need for umbrellas, no need to light the scene or zip lock your speed lights, no wet wedding dress and most importantly, the couple stays warm and happy.

Tips from Abul:

When placing your subject by the window, the natural light fall off can be rapid, so don’t be afraid to have their shoulder almost touching the window if the light requires it.

Tips For Rainy Day Wedding Photography | Summary

Make sure your gear is weather sealed and if not invest in plastic covers to protect it from getting ruined.

Always have an umbrella on hand (this can just be a regular white lighting umbrella) because you never know when you’ll need it.

Always test the shot before bringing your couple into the scene to prevent them from getting cold or wet.

Use flashes to backlight the particles in the air and compression lenses to yield better bokeh results.

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