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border-spam · 3 years

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Leech Lord - When it's cold

TW: Dark thoughts, existential dread

Tyreen has always acted like coming here was the best decision she’s made for them, it’s pissed him off more than she’s ever appeared to notice, but then again her pretending like she isn’t picking up on his frustrations is nothing new.

She’s spent years singing this planet’s praises, how she loves everything about it and he should be thankful that his sister got them out of the cage that was their home, but she can’t lie to her twin. Never could, even though it’s not once stopped her from trying.

Troy knows her better than his own scars, and for all her intense skill in bullshitting, he sees through her every time. Even the times he really wishes he didn’t.

She fucking HATES Pandora as much as he does. Hell, maybe even more, her rage always tracked deeper through her bones than his could muster. He’s too tired to hate the way she does, it’s exhausting to burn with that dark a fury for so long.

He told her to her face the day they landed here that this planet was a shithole. He told her he wanted to go home, that staying here was not going to pay off the way she insisted it would for them. He’s told her the same thing practically every day since in one way or another, but she shrugs it off, twists it into a joke, reassures him in that silky smooth purr that it’s not that bad, that the filth of old blood in the sand and choking dry heat is worth it for what they have become.

Stars.

And maybe it would have been worth it if they had just stayed stars like she’d originally wanted, but things have changed over the years. He hates himself for believing her when he knew, just like he always did, that she was lying. Now that goal he worked so hard to reach for them both has been ripped from his grasp, now he’s stumbling behind her again as she demands he turn his cunning towards her new target - to be Gods, and Troy’s not sure he actually wants to be a God… not on Pandora.

He’s heard enough about the deities of this place from the natives to know whatever Pandora sees as holy is something far beyond his pathetic being. Shuddered as Jak-Knife wove myth of the great flood and the hunger beneath the sands, felt nausea snake through his stomach as they described something both terrible and disturbingly familiar. The eyes. The maw.

The great hunger of the mad song.

That’s not who he is even if the thrill of fear that runs down his spine when he considers it is almost pleasure, and it’s not who he wanted to be, if he still remembers correctly at least. The Troy he wanted to be is probably dead now, another desiccated corpse claimed by survival on Pandora. The possibility of that life is gone, he thinks. He’s not even really sure if he’s alive - the Troy he became in the end.

Tyreen says “We” will be Gods when she snares him so kindly in those manipulations whispered like love. “We” used to mean him and her back when they were two parts of the same whole and Mom would remind them how that would never change, but he’s started to really question if it has.

Tyreen’s “We” now rings with the dread of something he can’t quite place.

Nekrotafeyo was beautiful. Cool, rich blues marring into the same violet black you’d catch behind your eyelids just before drifting into sleep. The sky was so many colours at sunset, and plants, animals, all living things gently pulsed with a bio-luminescence that meant night was never true darkness.

Pandora is dead.

It’s just.. sand and jutting rocks in formations that don’t track naturally, that gave him fever dreams for the first couple of years about the things that must have shaped them. The air tastes like chemicals. The dirt is laced with oil, it’s vile. It’s sticky, ravenously hot, freezing cold, and it doesn’t want you to live on it.

He won’t rule Pandora as a deity, he can’t. It’s not made for that.

Pandora is a tomb, and in the back of God-King Calypso’s mind, he’s pretty sure he’ll die here just like the thousands who’ve gurgled his blessed name through their last breath in honor to their Holy Father. He won’t go in a blaze of glory, those are for the good and he’s anything but, he’ll just probably be a corpse his sister uses as a stepping stone to lurch towards her divinity.

That sounds about right for someone like him, and as the years go on, as he realises Seifa is not coming back and his friends are cracking under the burden of his existence in their lives, he thinks about it more and more.

Sometimes, on those icy cold Pandoran nights when he can’t sleep, when he’s been awake days and his eyes feel like their full of grit and joints ache with every breath, he goes outside.

Sanctum is docked near the pinnacle of the Grand Cathedral, like a thorn jutting from the tower of the twin’s shared cloister. It’s so high that the screeching noise of the night city below is almost drowned out by the wind that whistles through the gothic parapets, and sometimes when his kingdom is laced in glittering frost reflecting the glaring neon of the lights that dot the streets, he scales it.

Awkwardly clambers up the side of his ship as the dead weight of that horrible arm pulls at his spine with each twist, fingers fumbling for grip in the little rivets of freezing sheet metal as he hauls his heavy, exhausted body up inch by inch till he reaches the flat of the hull and crawls to the centre.

Throws his coat down and sits on the pooled fabric, pulls his knees up to his chest, closes his eyes, and waits as he focuses on the distorted music and crowd chatter that manages to filter from the metropolis so far below.

Lets the freezing cold air goosebump his bare skin as it leeches his warmth and creeps through the iron of his bracer, straight into his bones. Waits for his lungs to start stuttering out puffs of steamy breath as he begins to shiver under the clear night sky. Waits, and thinks about not having been born.

When he gets just cold enough, he can’t feel his broken body anymore, but he can think so clearly and he wonders if this is what it would be like. Not being in pain. Not living under the mental fog of the cocktail of drugs he relies on now just to ward off the nightmares. Not holding so much pathetic regret inside his ribs.

Not dying, that’s something else, being alive and then deciding to not be is very different and he’s not a coward. He’s not. Just… not having existed in the first place at all.

That’s not the same. That’s very easy to imagine even if you’re not a coward.

If he’d never been born so many people would be so much happier.

Tyreen would be... whole. She’d be pure, wouldn’t she. If he hadn’t taken half of her power the way he did, she wouldn’t be the way she is now. She’s told him that plenty, how it’s his fault. All of it. Mom would never have died. Dad would have stayed full of sunshine and jokes and love. Where would they be now as a family, them and Ty? Travelling the universe? Seeking out siren lore?

Leda wouldn’t be dead. Typhon wouldn’t be abandoned. Tyreen wouldn’t be whatever the fuck he’d helped turned her into. A monstrous god of her own making, or a sad child crying for her parents. He’s not sure which.

Troy has damaged so many people by being alive and there’s no goodness from it. There’s no payoff, no benefit. What’s the point of it? He’s broken. The power he stole doesn’t even work, so what was it all for? What’s he done bar cause pain and death just by existing?

Is that not exactly what a parasite does?

The COV wouldn’t exist if he’d never. The billions they’d affected would be all the better for it really, despite what they tell each other about “bettering” the lives of Pandora’s lost and the galaxy’s lonely.

Eli and Ven would have found someone better to seek help from, wouldn’t they. The Oracle wouldn’t be the shadow of himself that he is now, exhausted and so sad. Jak-Knife would probably be leading their own clan, not babysitting a pathetic excuse for a man that worked them to the bone while simmering with jealousy towards how much he wished he was them.

Seifa…

If he’d died on Seifa’s ship, where would she be? Somewhere warm and nice where when it rained the water was refreshing and not a slurry of red dust. With someone who deserved her.

He knows where she is now, a station he wouldn’t punish someone by exiling them to… and it was his fault she was there.

The back of his mind agrees that he is the crux of so much pain. He’s the one that’s the cosmic mistake.

Sometimes he’d like to ask Leda, she’d know the answer. Mom had known everything when they were small, had the answer to every curiosity or confusion from little minds, so he tries to. Whispers a question he doesn’t even understand to the stars through chattering teeth. He wishes she could hear him.

He’s always relieved when she can’t.

The cold defeats him in the end, every time. His body forces him to struggle to his feet and stiffly begin the climb back as the city below starts to quiet, shimmying slowly down the hull between handholds that bite into his icy fingers as the wind howls.

There’s a fleeting thought whenever he’s slowly picking his way down to the entry port that it would actually be really easy to slip, and he’s surprised it hasn’t happened yet. THAT would be the kind of ending he’s going to get anyway, one stupid little mistake from a hand he can barely feel, and all that would be left of him would be a mess for some poor fucker below to clean up.

He smirks at it, but knows in reality his traitorous wings would save him.

The port airlock hisses open and he stumbles into the warmth of his ship every time, he doesn’t fall, he doesn’t cease, he just passes out in the cocooning dark of his bedroom.

It’s survival instinct that does it, that makes him move and forces him back inside, but he still goes outside on those freezing nights, because maybe one night... it finally won’t.

Not that he’d get to be that lucky, he’s got a cult to run in the morning, and Tyreen would never forgive him anyway.

#Borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #leech lord #my writing #my hcs #seifa

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macbetha · 3 years

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So very excited to share this! It’s a playlist for my upcoming Free! fic, This Heart of Mine, the rewritten sequel to Eyes Wide Open All the Time. You can listen to the playlist on YouTube; this list simply helps define who or what a song represents to me. This list also includes some lyrics that you may want to pay special attention to. I recommend reading the lyrics by themselves before listening to the playlist. Mind you - some of these lyrics only act as symbolism. Some mean more. Some songs have connections. Some don’t. ;) *go girl give us nothing* List below!

THIS HEART OF MINE: PLAYLIST GUIDE

Theme: Bring Me The Horizon feat. Halsey - In The Dark (MTLT / amo version) Oh so tall, it broke the fourth wall Guess our fairytale had a few plot holes Don’t you know you’ve lost control ↳ Honorable Mentions: ✧ grandson - Bury Me Facedown When I go into the ground I won’t go quietly I’m bringing my crown I won’t get tired Set the town on fire Thinking that they’ve won It’s only just begun ✧ Lorde - Everybody Wants to Rule the World ✧ Ry X - YaYaYa ✧ Rihanna - Goodnight Gotham

CHARACTERS

✦ Haruka ✧ WDL - Monster vs Angel Got my own monster Nobody but me Got my own angel I would never call him enemy He’s the good god I need But both of the sides Fight for me ✧ Mumford and Sons - Broken Crown I’ll never be your chosen one In this twilight How dare you speak of grace But in this twilight Our choices seal our fate I’ll crawl on my belly till the sun goes down I’ll never wear your broken crown ✧ Lia Marie Johnson - DNA Dark as midnight 6 Pack Coors Light You don’t look the same Past my bedtime Blue and red lights come take you away I won’t be like you Fighting back, I’m fighting back the truth Eyes like yours Can’t look away But you can’t stop DNA

✧ Cat Power - Sea of Love Come with me, my love To the sea, the sea of love ✧ Al Green - Love and Happiness (side note: this if my favorite song of all time) Love and happiness Something that can make you do wrong And make you do right

✦ Makoto ✧ The Oh Hellos - Soldier, Poet, King There will come a soldier Who carries a mighty sword He will tear your city down Oh ley, oh lei, oh lord ✧ Labrynth - Still Don’t Know My Name I took your heart I did things to you only lovers would only do in the dark I made you a god Priests, popes and preachers would tell me I did wrong ✧ The Civil Wars - Devil’s Backbone Don’t care if he’s guilty Don’t care if he’s not He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I got Oh lord, I’m begging you, please Don’t take that sinner from me ✧ Sleeping At Last - Make You Feel My Love (Cover) I could make you happy Make your dreams come true There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do Go to ends of the earth for you To make you feel my love ✦ Sousuke ✧ Angel Haze - Detox You dance in a cage with some rats in it I’m about chemistry, you just react to me God might turn us to ash, baby I might just taste your last stars tonight We were gods in a world that did nothing but doubt us But fuck it, I got us, from the dirt with the flowers Put in work in the shower ✧ Kaleo - No Good You better start runnin’ When you hear the man coming It won’t do you no good Kiss your baby goodbye Come on love, it’s all right Heaven knows they wanna break you apart ✧ The Oh Hellos - The Lament of Eustice Scrubb Brother, forgive me We both know I’m the one to blame When I touched the water They told me I could be set free ✦ Rin ✧ Halsey - Young God (Lullaby / Music Box Intro, Live from Webster Hall) Running, running, running And we’ll be running, running, running again ✧ SZA - Good Days Tell me I’m not my fears, my limitations I’ll disappear I gotta keep from losing the rest of me Chasing a fountain of youth that’s in the present I’ll await my armored fate with a smile Still wanna try, I still believe in good days ✧ Lola Blanc - Angry Too Does it get your blood boiling? Does it make you see red? Cause it gets my blood boiling It would eat you like poison if you knew what I knew I don’t wanna drink the venom they made me I don’t wanna be controlled by the past But boy, if you were me Could you really blame me? ✧ Kendrick Lamar - u And if this bottle could talk: I cry myself to sleep, everything is your fault Because you shook as you knew confinement was needed I know your secrets Don’t let me tell them to world About the shit you thinking And the time that you - I’m ‘bout to hurl I’m fucked up But I ain’t as fucked up as you ✧ Halsey - More Wooden floors, little feet Flower bud, concrete A little screen, a photograph Mine to take I still believe it won’t be like before I’ve loved you for all of my life ✦ Nao ✧ Johnny Hollow - Worse Things Anger grew like ecstasy And Leda threw the swan on me There are worse things, perverse things You should answer when the phone rings There are worse things I could do ✧ Young Heretics - Bones of a Rabbit You play with wolves But you sleep with the bones of the rabbit You have conquered cities And torched the mighty sea You may keep yourself afloat But you cannot outswim me ✧ Phantogram - Black Out Days (Future Islands Remix) Hide the sun I will keep your face out of my mind I’m hearing voices all the time And they’re not mine Haunting my mind ✦ Natsuya ✧ Gang of Youths - Achilles, Come Down Remember your virtue Redemption lies plainly in the truth Where you go, I’m going When you jump, I’m jumping There is no me without you Today of all days See how the most dangerous thing is love ✧ Florence + The Machine - Cosmic Love The stars, the moon They have all been blown out You left me in the dark ✦ Ikuya ✧ Penelope Scott - Cigarette Ahegao So like, I guess I call it the sophomore slump Always crying and always drunk A few dead, more gone, the rest well on their way Thanks! I hate it Everyone that I love is stuck Because this, that, the other, and the state fucked up We covered it in a class that I’m about to fail ✧ 100 gecs, Laura Les, Dylan Brady - Money Machine Tell me what's the deal, I've been trying to go to bed I've been up for days, I've been trying to get ahead Said it all before, and I'll say it once again I'm better off alone ✧ Halsey - Clementine Through a breakdown or a blackout Would you make out with me Cause I don’t need anyone I just need everyone and then some ✦ Hiyori ✧ Florence + The Machine - Seven Devils Holy water cannot help you now A thousand armies couldn’t keep me out I don’t want your money I don’t want your crown See I’ve come to burn your kingdom down ✧ Michael Buble - Feeling Good (Cover) It’s a new life for me This old world is a new world And a bold world for me Freedom is mine And I know how I feel I’m feeling good ✦ Asahi ✧ Sam Henshaw - Broke If I wasn’t broke Would you spend more time with me Like you said you’d do Tell me what I’m supposed to do Cause the only thing I need Is to be loved by you ✧ Mikky Ekko - Smile Smile, the worst is yet to come We’ll be lucky if we ever see the sun ✦ Aki ✧ Aly & AJ - Church I did bad things, can’t you see it on my face? I get caught in every lie I need redemption for sins I can’t mention For all the things I can’t reverse For all the places where it hurts ✧ ZZ Ward - Ghost Here the devil call out my name I’ve broken promises, burning flame God knows, darling God knows I gave Now the truth cuts like a knife ✦ Nii ✧ Of Mice and Men - My Understandings Keep in mind that I’m a sore eye With blurry vision ✧ Neoni - Outlaw They say that I’m wanted Hear the whispers in the street You better start running Cause nothing scares me Faster, faster You’re the one I’m after You built a fortress But I’ll never kiss the ring I’m my own king

✦ Gou ✧ Melanie Martinez - Lunchbox Friends We can be friends if you wanna be But only till the clock hits three I don’t want no lunchbox friends, no I want someone that binds the ends, no Come to my house, let’s die together Friendship that will last forever ✧ Maroon 5 - Come to the Water Come away little light Come away to the darkness Away from the life that you always knew Come away little lamb Come away to the water To the arms that are waiting only for you ✦ Isuzu ✧ Jessie Reyez - NO ONE’S IN THE ROOM Spent my whole life being graded, being told I’m not enough Being told go find the one and sit and wait for death to come I don’t want to I need to talk to God There’s things I just don’t understand Like who am I when no one’s in the room EMI - Bad Friends Yeah, I got some bad friends No you cannot have them If you wanna talk to them You talk to me, yeah We don’t fuck around with just anybody, yeah

✦ Takuya ✧ Imagine Dragons - Ready, Aim, Fire Off in the distance, there is resistance Bubbling up and festering Here in the casing Shaking and pacing This is the tunnel’s light Blood in the writing, stuck in the fighting Look through the rifle’s sight ✧ Billie Eilish - you should see me in a crown (acapella) Bite my tongue Bide my time Wait till the world is mine, ocean eyes Count my cards Watch them fall Blood on a marble wall You should see me in a crown I’m gonna run this nothing town Watch me make ‘em bow One by one ✦ Kinjou ✧ Urban Country - Knife and Stone Tell me, have you ever seen a mirror Mirror in the middle of the forest Just waiting for the rain or the crown I’ve been up for thirty days Someone point to lost and found Ain’t no blood in the temple Just a knife and stone

✦ Mikhail ✧ Elsie Lovelock - Friends on the Other Side (Cover) The cards, the cards The cards will tell The past, the present, and the future as well I got voodoo, I got hoodoo I got things I ain’t even tried And I got friends on the other side I hope you’re satisfied, but if you ain’t Don’t blame me You can blame my friends on the other side ✦ Ryuuji ✧ elbow - Grounds for Divorce I’ve been working on a cocktail Called Grounds for Divorce Down comes him on sticks but then he kicks like a horse There's a hole in my neighborhood Down which of late I cannot help but fall ✧ Mumford and Sons - The Enemy I am not the enemy It isn’t me, the enemy I came and I was nothing So why did you choose to lean on A man you knew was falling? ✦ Nadia ✧ Halsey - Castle (Orchestral Version) They wanna make me their queen There’s an old man Sitting on the throne Saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut I’m headed straight for the castle

THEMES: GROUPS

✦ FREEBIRD ✧ Kaleo - Way Down We Go Oh father, tell me Do we get what we deserve They will run you down Down till you fall They will run you down Down till you crawl Till you can’t crawl no more And way down we go ✦ ROUGH RABBIT ✧ Imagine Dragons - Who We Are Up on the mountain Down in the king's den It's who we are Doesn't matter if we've gone too far Doesn't matter if it's not okay Doesn't matter if it's not our day ✦ DIAMONDBACK ✧ Florence + The Machine - Bedroom Hymns This is good a place to fall as any We’ll build our alter here In the wine, the women, the bedroom hymns Such selfish prayers, I can’t get enough I’m not here looking for absolution Because I’ve found myself an old solution

✦ HONEYBLADE ✧ Megan Thee Stallion and Normani - Diamonds I love me this much My pear-shape all dripped up He want me to be a little more lady-like? Come through with my girls and beat your ass on ladies night ✦ BLOODHOUNDS ✧ Angel Haze - The Wolves Nothing left out there for me I left my fucking heart out at the sea This shit sounds like the danger zone I’m the big bad wolf Gonna take the throne

THEMES: PAIRINGS

✦ Makoto + Haruka ✧ Phoebe Bridgers - Smoke Signals One of your eyes is always half shut Something happened when you were a kid I didn’t know you then and I’ll never understand why It feels like I did ✧ Radical Face - Welcome Home Peel the scars from off my back I don’t need them anymore I’ve come home ✧ The Track Team - Heart Chakra ✧ Blackmill - Redemption ✦ Sousuke + Rin ✧ Kaleo - Bang Bang (Cover) Seasons came and changed the times I grew up, I called him mine He would always laugh and say: “Remember how we used to play? Bang, bang.” ✧ Zayn - Good Guy I’m not a good guy But I know you’re mine (bang) I know you’re mine (bang, bang) ✧ L'Orchestra Cinématique - Crazy In Love (Instrumental Cover)

✦ Natsuya + Nao ✧ Cosmo Sheldrake - The Moss But have you heard the story Of the rabbit in the moon? Halsey - Colors Your little brother never tells you But he loves you so I hope you make it to the day you’re 28 years old

✦ Hiyori + Ikuya ✧ Elvis Drew - Where Are You I been trying to figure out where you from Is it the moon? Is it earth? Is it this place, where nothing is worse? Nothing can compare to the life we had My dear just grab my hand and let me take you To my wonderland ✧ Swae Lee - Sunflower Some things you just can’t refuse I’m not tryna lose

✦ Isuzu + Gou ✧ Snow Patrol - The Golden Floor I’m a peasant in your princess arms Penniless with only charm

#thomfic #free! fic #thomplaylist #thom

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penhaligon-publishing · 3 years

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EMMA & ELECTRA.

@theasteriae wrote:

Electra smiles, and a dimple appears in either cheek. “Yes. And believe me, you’re the lucky one.” There’s nothing Lex won’t do for Ram, and she can’t deny it’s nice to be so connected to someone, so that even when the rest of the world feels like it’s falling away, there’s someone there to keep her grounded, secure, but usually, it’s her trying to get him out of trouble and not the other way around. Certainly, as children, their mother had been blind to Rama’s faults and had ascribed every incident of wrongdoing to her daughter. “Brothers are a pain in the arse.”

And as if on cue, he finally comes into view, all six foot three of him, silver shirt and snakeskin boots, long hair falling into his face. From the way he’s swaying, she can tell he’s already drunk. Looks like a clean-up operation waiting to happen, but Celia’s here tonight, and she’s supposed to be having a night off from all the unpleasant things that come hand-in-hand with parenting. He might be thirty-six, but he’s an even bigger baby than her children are sometimes. “See? Mine are twins too, but they’re both girls. Leda and Cleo.” She fishes her phone out of her clutch bag to show Emma a photo.

It’s not that the extra champagne has mellowed her at all ( though she doesn’t say no to a refill of her first glass, which is virtually empty by now ), but these are small enough details that she doesn’t mind sharing, this picture’s been up on her public Instagram for months, and besides, how nice is it to be having a girls’ chat with someone who doesn’t already know her life inside out? Emma’s surprise at finding out she had a brother seemed genuine enough; maybe she just doesn’t keep up with boybands and influencers. Frankly, Electra wishes there were more people out there who were like that.

“I’m dreading the terrible twos, never mind their teenage years. God.” She takes another sip of champagne and almost snorts it out when the other woman tells her about the kinds of games her daughter likes to play. “Something for me to look forward to, then. I mean, they already know how to work my phone, and getting them off the iPad is almost impossible, but seriously, anything’s got to be better than Peppa Pig at this point, right? Even blood and guts and—I honestly think I could recite it in my sleep.”

They’ve popped open the good stuff for this event; the champagne is tart and slightly citrussy and it seems to be going down with all the club’s upmarket clientele. It’s certainly in generous supply. Lex is toying idly with her glass, but at the sound of Charles Robertson’s name, she’s instantly on edge again. Not that that smile lets it show. “Well, no wonder you’re wearing such a beautiful engagement ring!” she exclaims. “I noticed it under those lights. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Clearly, the man’s got excellent taste as well as his family connections. Can I have another look?”

“Yes, he certainly does have good taste,” Emma agrees with her, although she privately adds at least he used to. Lately Charles has been less than attentive to her. When was the last time he bought her jewellery? There was once a time when he would have showered her with whatever she asked for, but nowadays he walks past her as if she occupied an empty space in their hallway. He’s probbaly just worried about business, she reasons. Christ knows, she’s had enough of that: business meetings, business lunches, business trips. Business, business, business. It might all be worth it if it made him happy but it just seems to leave him wanting more. But then again, Emma reasons, as she sips her champagne. No one these days is really happy, are they?

“You know,” Emma considers thoughtfully. “Why don’t you come for dinner, sometime? Your husband too. I’m sure Charles would love to have you. His usual dinner guests are so very dull, and you would certainly bring some sparkle to the house. Charles knows an excellent Michelin star chef we can book for the occasion.”

#emma #emma/electra

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semperintrepida · 4 years

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The Sellout

one: the meet cruel

Kyra had just started pulling a double shot when trouble swaggered through the door in the shape of a woman: tall, dark-haired trouble, broad-shouldered trouble, trouble wearing a business suit so perfectly tailored that Kyra could smell the money on her all the way from the other end of the bar.

The woman ambled up to the counter without so much as a glance at the menu board, instead letting her gaze sweep over the shop, from the regulars camped at the couches by the windows, to the empty tables in the center of the space, until her eyes finally came to rest upon Kyra herself.

Kyra put on a smile that was at least eighty percent fake and said, "I'll be right with you."

That made the woman nod, a measured movement not at all like the distracted nods most customers gave when told they'd have to wait, and something about it made prickles race across the back of Kyra's neck.

The shot was finished brewing, and Kyra cut the pull and returned her attention to the pitcher of steamed milk resting on the counter. She picked it up and gave it a gentle swirl, then took the cup with the shot from the drip tray and started pouring the milk into it. When the cup was nearly full, she began layering the foam so the ripples of white formed the body and upswept wings of a swan, finishing with a flourish that left a curving neck and the suggestion of a head and beak. There. A Leda in memory of love won and lost.

Kyra brought the cup to the register end of the bar, where she placed it on the pick-up counter and said in a loud voice, "Barney. Get your damn drink." It was three in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and the shop was empty except for the usual suspects — and the woman standing on the other side of the counter, who didn't seem the type to wilt before a curse word or two. A raised eyebrow and a quirk at the corner of her lips proved Kyra right.

Barney popped up from the couch with a grin. He liked it when Kyra played grumpy, and he practically danced up to the counter to claim his prize while the woman stepped aside to make room for him.

His eyes took in Kyra's creation, swan and all, and he placed his hand over his heart and said, "Kyra, you honor me," as he always did during his three o'clock moment of happiness. Their little ritual.

The woman watched their exchange with interest. Her stance was wide-legged and relaxed as she waited for Barney to shuffle away with his drink cradled in his hands. Then Kyra turned to her, and when their eyes finally met, another prickle swept across Kyra's neck and down her spine.

Hot. The woman was hot — and not just that but gorgeous, as trouble for Kyra always was. Her hair was tied up in a braid, and the muscled lines of her neck emerged from the crisp collar of her shirt to meet a strong jawline. Full lips. High cheekbones. And light brown eyes flecked with gold, piercing as a raptor's, studying Kyra in a very deliberate display of attention.

She was the kind of gorgeous that made Kyra do stupid things, and an irritated heat rose from Kyra's belly up through her chest, some of it slipping out her voice as she said, "What can I get started for you?"

"I'd love a latte as beautiful as that one," the woman said, her eyes flicking over to the couches, "but unfortunately I need mine to go."

A safe and timid choice, incongruent for someone who radiated confidence and power, but if Kyra had a dollar for every time she'd seen people make odd choices while standing under the hot, track-lit glare of her coffee shop's menu, she'd have enough money to stop worrying about making the rent. "What size?"

"Grande," the woman answered automatically, but then she seemed to catch herself and said, "No, wait. Make it a twelve ounce, please."

Kyra could have unpacked a lot from that collection of answers, but she didn't want trouble to linger in her thoughts any longer than necessary. At least the woman had said please. "That'll be three fifty."

The woman reached inside her jacket and pulled out her wallet, but it was less a wallet than a thin stack of credit cards sandwiched between two similarly-sized plates of metal, with a wad of cash clipped to it. She peeled off a bill and pushed it across the counter. Her nails were short and well-shaped. No wedding ring, but the crown of a watch, large and masculine, peeked out from the cuff of her suit jacket.

Kyra punched the order into the register and made change for the twenty, sliding the coins and bills back across the counter. "I'll have it ready shortly," she said, and she walked back up the bar, picking up a paper cup from the stacks along the way.

Kyra's beloved La Marzocco awaited, its polished stainless steel shining in the light, a marvel of coffee engineering. Three group heads, two steam wands, and enough room that she and Pete could work the morning rush without bumping elbows. The machine had cost her as much as a nice car. It also fed her and put a roof over her head. It was her baby, and working with it brought her joy with every pull.

She felt herself smiling as she twisted the portafilter from the head and knocked the spent coffee grounds into a bin. Then she measured out the beans and started the grinder, wiping the basket in the filter with the cloth that hung from her belt while the grinder whirred.

The woman was watching her, and the weight of that gaze bore down on her and made her shiver despite the warmth thrown off by the machine. She focused on the dose. On the tamp. Not too much force, not too light, the grounds smooth and even, waiting for the heat and moisture and pressure that would combine separate parts into one, delicious moment.

While the espresso shot was pulling, she poured milk into a clean pitcher, then purged the wand and dunked it inside the milk to steam, the pitcher's cold steel warming against her skin as the liquid swirled and foamed. And when it was too hot to touch, she set it on the counter so the foam could rest while she wiped down the wand and lost herself in the familiar motions of crafting a latte.

A minute later, Kyra set the cup in front of the woman, next to the pile of change that sat untouched where Kyra had left it. "Enjoy," she said.

The woman took a sip, and her eyes widened. Then she sipped again, and a slow smile spread across her lips. But instead of taking her drink and leaving, she looked at Kyra and asked, "How long has this place been here?"

"Ten years."

It was interesting, the way the woman's face told Kyra two different stories: her features were open and friendly, but her eyes held calculated intent. "And how's business these days?"

Wariness uncoiled itself from its slumber around Kyra's belly and lifted its head. "Better than it looks at the moment."

"You're a bit far from MLK."

"MLK" was Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, and like every MLK in a big city in the US, the name had been bestowed on a street in what had once been an industrial wasteland fifty years ago but was now a busy thoroughfare today. When Kyra first signed the lease for this shop, there was only one brewpub in the neighborhood, and her neighbors were a vacuum wholesaler and a logging equipment distributor. Ten years later, there were seven brewpubs within walking distance and nearly as many distilleries. "This isn't a Starbucks drive-through. Distillery Row brings in a lot of folks on tasting tours. So do all the brewpubs, and there's a streetcar line just up the way. But what would a barista know about foot traffic metrics or exposure value, right? Your eyebrows are already sky-high."

The woman smiled and matched her gaze. "All right. Let's talk about exposure value. What's the premium in cost per square foot for a high visibility retail space in this neighborhood?"

Kyra lifted her chin. "Does that work on everyone?"

"What?"

"The eye contact. The smile."

The smile in question widened a fraction. "And just what do you think I'm trying to do?"

"You're bullshitting me. And I don't know why."

"I'm new in town and I'm curious about this area. And who better to ask than the person who delivers the daily caffeine fix to everyone in the neighborhood. I didn't expect to get my head bitten off." Oh, she was good, how her voice had slipped into a hurt pout at the end. But her eyes gave her away, the hard glint within them almost predatory.

"Are you going to ask to see my manager?"

"Should I?"

"It won't get you very far."

Realization dawned. "You are the manager."

"Think bigger, lamb. I know I don't look like much." With her flannel shirt and black skinny jeans cuffed above a pair of Docs, Kyra knew she looked like every barista in Portland.

The woman took a breath as if she were tasting it, then she grinned and said, "You own this shop."

"Now you're catching on."

"Is this how you treat all your customers?"

"No, just the ones who come in under false pretenses." The words hung in the air between them, and Kyra crossed her arms. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"You haven't helped me at all, but the drink was delicious."

"If you're still sore about it after you get back to your Mercedes, you can put that down as your one star review on Yelp."

The woman laughed and raised her cup in a mock toast. "Well, this has certainly been exciting," she said, heading for the door. "I can't wait to see what happens the next time I come in."

"Next time? I'll be surprised if I see you again," Kyra said, but as she eyed the pile of change sitting untouched on the counter, her gut told her she'd better start preparing for trouble to return.

"Is that wishful thinking I hear?" The woman looked back with a smirk as she reached for the door. "Oh, you'll be seeing a lot more of me, I promise," she said. Then she winked at Kyra and left the shop.

Kyra rolled her eyes and tossed the money into the tip jar.

A whistle pierced the air, then Ellen's voice piped up from the couches. "Who the fuck was that?"

"Someone who just paid twenty bucks for a latte."

"Ooh, Kyra's lucky day. And even after you were such a bitch to her."

"That woman is bad news."

"You say that about every beautiful woman who walks in here."

"This time I'm worried about business, not pleasure." She'd never be able to explain the wariness she'd felt the moment the woman had started asking questions. Kyra had learned long ago to listen to that feeling whenever it stirred.

"That wasn't just a business transaction. She was into you."

"No she wasn't. She came in here looking for something, and that something wasn't me or a drink."

"You're so fucking paranoid sometimes."

One person's paranoia was another person's survival skill. Kyra had spent a childhood predicting the liquor-fueled winds of her father's rage, and that had made a home for wariness to live within her gut, along with host of other tools she used to discern a person's intent, to read the signals they gave off before they acted.

Her father was long dead, but his legacy lived on. These days, she used it to give customers what they wanted when they had no idea what that was. But it also helped her read certain situations, like whenever someone tried to pitch her a new business opportunity, or whenever a man entered the shop in the empty minutes just before closing.

"Ellen, leave her be," Harold said gently. He was the third of Kyra's trio of regulars, a retired history professor who fancied himself a sage. "Kyra has much to do, and I doubt she wants to spend it worrying about the unknowns on the horizon."

He was right, though. Kyra didn't want to think about trouble or her questions, or the fact that her hand-tailored suit probably cost more than the shop's rent each month.

Kyra reached down for the rag she used to clean the countertops, and shivered.

Continued in chapter two...

#kyssandra #kassandra #ac odyssey #modern day au #coffee shop au #enemies to lovers #this is just an excuse for me to write smut with these two in a modern day setting #100% pure grade A indulgence #sorry i'm all out of original thoughts #this will be my love letter to portland - coffee - motorcycles - bourbon - and beautiful women #the sellout

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raidbossmadi · 4 years

Text

The Leech

“But moooom!”

“Inside voice Tyreen.”

“But moooom.” Tyreen whispered though her annoyance was still apparent as she pouted looking up at her mother who was perched on the edge of the twin’s bed stroking Troy’s hair. “Why can’t we go out and look at the cool ruins. You promised.”

Leda gave Tyreen a sympathetic smile. “I know Starlight, but your brother isn’t feeling well and I need to look after him.” As if on cue Troy whimpered and Leda placed a damp cloth over his forehead, gently soothing him.

“Troy’s always getting sick, is it the stripes? Why don’t my stripes make me sick? Or yours mommy?” She asked looking at the blue looping patterns crossing her forearm.

“That’s part of it yes, our stripes don’t make us sick, they make us stronger. Unfortunately Troy’s hurt him and that’s why we have to be gentle with him and let him get his rest.” It wasn’t easy to explain to Tyreen, but Leda also didn’t want to lie to her daughter especially not about something as important as the twins Sirenism.

“That’s not fair though! Why do Troy’s stripes hurt him when ours don’t hurt us?” Tyreen was ever curious and while Leda would never do anything to put a damper on it however the questions Tyreen was asking were starting to get hard hitting. Leda would do anything to know why her son was so frail and sickly but they just didn’t have the answers to that. On top of that Tyreen was starting to get upset and Leda did not want her daughter to come to the stark realization that her brother would never be as healthy as she was.

“Tyreen, sweetheart, since your Mom’s gotta look after Troy why don’t you and I go out to the ruins instead eh?” Typhon appeared in the doorway to the twins room obviously having overheard the conversation between his wife and daughter and picked now to intervene.

“Yeah I guess, even though you can’t read the words like mommy can.” Tyreen wanted to get out of the house and would gladly take any excuse to do so even if it wasn’t what she had originally had in mind.

“Be safe and have fun you two!” Leda said winking and mouthing ‘thank you’ to her husband as they left the bedroom.

Nekrotafeyo was hardly a safe place to be raising kids but Typhon and Leda always made sure that if the twins were out it was either with their supervision or that of the bots Sparrow and Grouse. Typhon watched as Tyreen walked ahead of him pointing at rocks and interesting plants as they walked the trail from their home.

“Tyreen be careful, there’s lotsa dangerous things out here you know.” Typhon cautioned, the closer they got to the Eridian ruins the more chances they had to run into the constructs the Eridians had left behind. Granted they had never seen constructs this close to their hide away but Typhon and Leda had encountered them away from their usual positions before.

“I knooow Daaad.” Tyreen called, it was always be careful or don’t get so close, she just wanted to know how the world around her worked she didn’t understand why her parents could be so annoying about it.

She skidded to stop noticing something she hadn’t seen before. In between the dull grey of the Eridian stone jutted a group of purple crystals that glistened in the light sending sparkling rays of light to dance on the ground. The crystal seemed to hum with an ethereal song that was all too familiar to her though where from Tyreen wasn't sure.

“What is it?” She wondered out loud stepping closer to it. Typhon having finally caught up to her in time to see what had caught her curiosity.

“It’s eridium Tyreen, it’s a fancy rock that your mom and I use to power the house and shield generator.” He explained seemingly oblivious to the call of the crystal that Tyreen heard. She cautiously reached out to touch it her siren markings flaring ever so slightly as a spark of energy rushed from the stone and up her arm as she made contact.

“Hah it tickles! I like it!” She exclaimed even as she drew away slightly startled by the spark. Typhon raised a brow, he and Leda were both still in the dark as to what Tyreen’s siren abilities even were, as they had yet to manifest. Yet it seemed that whatever power laid dormant in her was starting to wake up and react to the world around her.

“You’ll have to ask your mom more about it, she knows all kinds of stuff about using eridium.” Typhon said nudging her gently away from the crystal remembering Leda mentioning that eridium could also be addictive to Sirens. “Let’s head back home Starlight, I’m sure your mom is waiting to hear all about your adventures today.”

“Ugh but daaad we hardly even did anything, mom takes us all the way up to the waterfall.” Tyreen pouted again and Typhon found that he couldn’t tell her no especially when she looked so sad.

“Alright alright, we can go up to the waterfall but then we’re going home.” Typhon watched as Tyreen smiled again and cheered making a beeline for the path to the waterfall. “Just be careful Tyreen! You know the Manta’s make their nests up there!”

Tyreen of course had her own plans in mind and as she reached the waterfall she skidded to a stop running into one of the aforementioned Manta that had been drinking from the lake. The creature hissed in surprise blinking its many eyes backing away from her, it was a juvenile hardly bigger than she was but it’s cry of surprise alerted its nearby parent.

The larger more aggressive Manta stepped out of its den the noise it made much more aggressive towards the foreign creature that had startled its child. A sickle like arm slamming the ground in front Tyreen who screamed in response running away from the beast, she was in over her head and Typhon still had some catching up to do.

The adult Manta leaned around the rock she hid behind an exploratory tendril reaching ever closer to her. It brushed her left arm but a voice in her head told her not to scream.

Grab it, the voice in her head told her and she did. Her tiny fingers wrapping around the sensory organ. Drain it, the voice commanded in a cool tone, at first Tyreen didn’t know what that meant but the answer came to her like she had known it her whole life. Her markings flared again like when she touched the eridium only this time instead of just a spark of energy she felt a whole wave crash over her as red chain like strands of magic flowed from her hand and into the Manta until all that was left was eridium and ash in the shape of the creature.

“Woah.” She exclaimed as she broke free of the now stone tendril that had been latched to her arm.

Typhon was on the other side of the Manta having shown up seconds before she had done what she’d done, his whip still raised and ready to fight the monster. “Tyreen! Starlight are you ok! I told you it was dangerous up here.” He chided though his gaze was on the petrified Manta.

“Y-yeah I’m fine dad, see?” Tyreen was obviously shaken by the events yet still standing tall like she did when Troy would get hurt when they played too rough, because she knew that if she got upset he would get upset and something was telling her the same would happen here. Even so, she slid into her dad's arms as he offered her a hug. “What did I do to it dad?”

“I don’t know Starlight…. I don’t know. C’mon we should really get back to your mom.” Tyreen made a soft murmur of agreement and the rest of the walk back home was silent.

***

Back home Tyreen was settled into her parents' bed, as she often was when Troy was unwell. However unlike most times she chose not to stay in bed instead pressing her ear against the door as she heard her parents talking.

“Ok,ok tell me again what she did Typhon?” Leda’s voice was soft and gentle if not a bit incredulous.

“I’m telling you one minute that Manta was alive, then the next it’s a friggen eridium statue Leda!” Typhon exclaimed.

“And you're sure she did it? There weren’t any guardians around?”

“No not one. I’m telling ya Leda, it was Tyreen and she knows it. We can’t lie to her about it.”

“No we can’t, but I had to be sure Typhon. That doesn’t sound like any siren power I’ve ever come across and yet something tells me it’s familiar. I’ll talk to her, will you please go look after Troy, he’s been asking for you.”

“Of course Leda, let me know if you need me.” Tyreen listened as her mother’s footsteps approached the door and she hurried back to the bed hoping it wouldn’t be obvious that she’d been eavesdropping.

There was a knock on the door “Tyreen sweetheart, it’s mommy.” Leda announced before opening the door finding Tyreen on the bed with a book in her lap.

“Am I in trouble mom?” Tyreen asked putting the book down. “I didn’t mean to hurt the Manta! I promise, it touched me and…” Leda raised a hand as she sat down and put a hand on her daughters back soothingly.

“It’s ok Tyreen, you’re not in trouble. We just need to have a talk about what happened. Do you know what you did?” She asked gently.

Tyreen shook her head. “No there was just a voice in my head that told me what to do mommy.”

“I see. Tyreen you know mommy’s stripes let her grow plants right?” Leda watched and smiled as her daughter nodded. “Well it would appear that your stripes let you turn things into statues.”

“Wait? My stripes did that? I thought it was just for growing plants like you?” Tyreen looked at her left arm with amazement again her right hand tracing the ornate pattern.

“No sweetheart, every siren has her own powers.” Leda explained her hand finding its way into her daughters hair.

“S-Siren? Is that what I am? What you are?”

“Yes! The sirens are a special group of women and your lucky to be one of them.”

Tyreen was beaming as her mother explained what her markings had meant this whole time. “That’s so cool! I wanna do more siren stuff mom!”

Leda smiled and laughed at her daughter's enthusiasm. “And you will I promise, but now, now is bedtime for good little sirens. Soon though I will show you all the cool things about being a siren and how it makes you special.” She leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead before tucking her in for the night.

“Goodnight Sweetheart.” Leda went to turn the lights off as she went back out to check in with Typhon and Troy. As she walked down the hall one phrase filled her mind seemingly echoing from the memories of Sirens past, filling her with a sense of dread that she found hard to shake.

The Leech. She’s back. The Leech. The Leech.

#Tyreen Calypso #troy calypso #Leda #My Writing #My Headcanons #Yes Leda's a siren in my writing #Cos it runs in the family #Ill post my leda hcs later because it explains a lot tbh #Im shy be nice pls

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emmagreen1220-blog · 5 years

Text

New Post has been published on Literary Techniques

New Post has been published on https://literarytechniques.org/allusion/

Allusion

Allusion Definition

Allusion can be defined as a casual reference to a person or a thing which adds extra meaning to the neighboring context. In other words, merely saying “The Good Samaritan is a character in a parable told by Jesus in the Gospel of Luke” is not an allusion—it is merely a straightforward reference. However, it is an allusion when, for example, Julia says to Edward in T.S Eliot’s comedy The Cocktail Party (I.2.49-50): “Don’t you realise how lucky you are/ To have two Good Samaritans?”

Allusions are, by definition, indirect. That means that they are never explicitly clarified by the author and that they work pretty much like riddles: it is left to the reader to both identify them and make the connection to a previous text. However, sometimes this process can prove especially tricky.

For example, Alexander Pope’s verses are densely allusive, filled with both classical and topical references that can’t be understood without some proper help from a specialized scholar. Moreover, modernist poets such as T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound consciously strove to enrich their writings with obscure, esoteric and personal allusions, the understanding of which is frequently essential to understanding the meaning of the works as a whole.

In some cases, allusions may even have a structural significance: James Joyce’s novel Ulysses, for example, is modeled after Homer’s epic Odyssey and can’t be sufficiently made sense of without it.

ExamplesQuizFlashcardsWorksheets

Allusion Examples

Allusion in a Sentence

Example #1: Achilles’ Heel

Divorce is the Achilles’ heel of marriage.

– George Bernard Shaw, Letters (July 2, 1965)

According to a story in Greek mythology, in an attempt to make her son immortal, the sea nymph Thetis washed the baby Achilles in the waters of the infernal river Styx. However, as she was doing this, she held him by his heel, which remained the only vulnerable place on her son’s body. This would prove a fatal mistake, since, late in the Trojan War, an arrow fired by the Trojan prince Paris and guided by Apollo, pierced through the heel of Achilles, killing the great Achaean hero on the spot. In the 19th century, the phrase “Achilles’ heel” was first used to mean a weak spot in spite of overall strength—and George Bernard Shaw wittily plays with this meaning in his clever remark above.

Example #2: Janus

A friend is Janus-faced: he looks to the past and the future. He is the child of all my foregoing hours, the prophet of those to come.

– Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Friendship” (1841)

Janus was an ancient Roman deity, worshipped as a guardian of doors and gates, and as a god of transitions, beginnings and endings. He was depicted as having two faces—one looking back and another forward—and this is what Ralph Waldo Emerson alludes to in the sentences above, describing a friend as someone who is both an indelible part of one’s past and an architect of his or her future.

Example #3: Panglossian

Many searchers for life beyond Earth seem to be possessed of an almost Panglossian optimism, and since their speculations include the entire universe, their optimism might seem justified.

– Tim Flannery, The New York Review of Books, November 2, 2000

Dr. Pangloss is a character in Voltaire’s 1759 satirical masterpiece Candide. A professor of “metaphysico-theologo-cosmoronology” he is a self-proclaimed optimist who firmly believes that we are living in “the best of all possible worlds” and that “all is for the best.” He remains convinced in the veracity of his beliefs even after countless misfortunes, which cost him an eye and an ear due to syphilis, and, at one point, even his freedom. Because of this, when someone is Panglossian, he or she is overly—and naively—optimistic.

(Further Reading: Top 10 Examples of Allusion in a Sentence)

Allusion in Poetry

Example #1: Dead Sea Fruits

May Life’s unblessed cup for him Be drugg’d with treacheries to the brim, With hopes that but allure to fly, With joys that vanish while he sips, Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips!

– Thomas Moore, Lalla Rookh (1817)

A Dead Sea fruit—sometimes also called a Sodom apple—is, according to the legend, a tempting fruit which dissolves into smoke and ashes once touched. Thomas Moore must have considered the allusion somewhat obscure when he wrote the above stanza in 1817 because he decided to annotate it himself, quoting a sentence by French explorer Jean de Thévenot as an explanation: “They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are full of ashes.” A Dead Sea fruit is now used as an allusion to anything which may look promising at first but ultimately brings disappointment and discontent.

Example #2: Gehenna

Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels the fastest who travels alone.

– Rudyard Kipling, “The Winners” (1890)

Gehenna—or, literally translated, the “Valley of (the Son of) Hinnom”—is a place in Jerusalem, where, according to the Old Testament, worshippers of the pagan gods Baal and Moloch sacrificed their children by fire: “They have built the high places of Baal to burn their children in the fire as offerings to Baal” (Jeremiah 19:5). In time, the term came to symbolize Hell itself, so much so that the name given to Hell in the Quran, Jahannam, is a direct derivation of Gehenna. Additionally, the phrase “go to Gehenna” can be used as a more esoteric alternative to the everyday expression “go to hell.”

Example #3: The Mad Hatter

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter, It isn’t just one of your holiday games; You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.

– T. S. Eliot, “The Naming of Cats” 1-4 (1939)

As almost everybody knows, the Mad Hatter is a character in Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and the eccentric host of one of the craziest tea parties you can ever imagine, also attended by the March Hare and the Dormouse. However, the phrases “mad as a hatter” and “mad as a (March) hare” predate Carroll’s book. According to OED, the first of these two expressions may refer to “the effects of mercury poisoning formerly suffered by hat-makers as a result of the use of mercurous nitrate in the manufacture of felt hats.” Ultimately, however, it’s irrelevant which of these sources is alluded to by T.S. Eliot in the stanza above—the meaning is immediately clear either way.

Example #4: Paris · Menelaus · Troy

I will be Paris and, for love of thee, Instead of Troy shall Wittenberg be sacked; And I will combat with weak Menelaus And wear thy colours on my plumed crest.

– Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus V.1.98-101 (1592)

This is what Doctor Faustus says to a summoned infernal spirit who has assumed the shape of Helen in the fifth act of Christopher Marlowe’s tragedy. The wife of Menelaus, Helen was a Spartan princess who was abducted by the Trojan prince, Paris—an event which triggered the Trojan War. Doctor Faustus reimagines himself as Helen’s lover and, in a trance, rewrites parts of the original story: in Homer’s Iliad, it is Paris who is unskilled and cowardly, and Menelaus an epitome of bravery. A few verses above this passage, Marlowe describes Helen’s face as one “that launch’d a thousand ships,/ And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?,” a phrase which has been alluded to numerous times ever since.

Example #5: The Trojan War · Helen and Clytemnestra

A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead.

– William Butler Yeats, “Leda and the Swan” 9-11 (1923)

As you can read in the example above, Yeats finds an even more implicit way to allude to some of the people and events Christopher Marlowe calls into mind in Doctor Faustus. His sonnet “Leda and the Swan” vividly describes how Zeus, disguised as a swan, rapes Leda, the Queen of Sparta. From this union, Helen and Clytemnestra were subsequently born, the former responsible for the Trojan War (“the broken wall, the burning roof and tower”) and the latter the murderer of the Achaean leader (“And Agamemnon dead”). Thus, the three verses above hide allusions within allusions: by referring to the consequences (the Trojan War and the death of Agamemnon), Yeats actually alludes to the causes (Helen and Clytemnestra) without even using their names.

(Further Reading: Top 10 Examples of Allusion in Poetry)

Allusion in Literature

Example #1: Gargantua

You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first. ‘Tis a word too great for any mouth of this age’s size.

– William Shakespeare, As You Like It III.2.221 (1599)

This is what Celia replies to Rosalind in Shakespeare’s pastoral comedy, As You Like It, after the latter asks to answer her “in one word” a host of Orlando-related questions. (“What did he when thou saw’st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes him here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him again?”) The meaning of the sentence is clear as it is, but it becomes even more palpable once you learn that Gargantua is a giant, the title protagonist in François Rabelais’ satirical pentalogy of novels, The Life of Gargantua and of Pantagruel.

Example #2: Methuselah

Now, you are my witness, Miss Summerson, I say I don’t care—but if he was to come to our house with his great, shining, lumpy forehead night after night till he was as old as Methuselah, I wouldn’t have anything to say to him.

– Charles Dickens, Bleak House (1853)

The son of Enoch and the grandfather of Noah, Methuselah is the oldest man mentioned in the Bible; Genesis 5:27 claims that he lived to be 969 years. Consequently, the word Methuselah is now almost synonymous with longevity, and is often used to mean “extremely aged” or “ancient.” The phrase “as old as Methuselah” is also regularly used.

Example #3: Procrustean Bed

‘The measures, then,’ he continued, ‘were good in their kind, and well executed; their defect lay in their being inapplicable to the case, and to the man. A certain set of highly ingenious resources are, with the Prefect, a sort of Procrustean bed, to which he forcibly adapts his designs. But he perpetually errs by being too deep or too shallow, for the matter in hand; and many a schoolboy is a better reasoner than he.

– Edgar Allan Poe, “The Purloined Letter” (1845)

Procrustes—literally, “The Stretcher”—was a street bandit in Greek mythology famous for the eccentricity of his modus operandi. Namely, he first invited travelers to lie on an iron bed he held in his possession, and, then, in an attempt to force them to fit the length of the bed, he either stretched them (if they were short) or cut off their legs (if they were longer than his bed). The adjective “procrustean” refers to this act, and means enforcing conformity through ruthless measures which disregard individual differences.

(Further Reading: Top 10 Allusion Examples in Literature)

Songs with Assonance

Example #1: The Cure, Killing an Arab (1979)

Standing on the beach With a gun in my hand Staring at the sea Staring at the sand Staring down the barrel At the Arab on the ground I can see his open mouth But I hear no sound

I’m alive I’m dead I’m the stranger Killing an Arab

Released a few days before the end of 1978, Killing an Arab was the controversial debut single of The Cure. As Robert Smith explains in a 1991 interview, the song “is a short poetic attempt at condensing [his] impression of the key moments in The Stranger by Albert Camus”—explicitly referenced in the chorus quoted above. However, the allusion was lost to many, leading to many accusations that Killing an Arab is a racist song which promotes violence against Arabs. As a result of the hostile response, The Cure rarely play the song even today; and when they do, they modify the last verse of the chorus to either “Killing another” or “Killing an Ahab.” And yes—the latter is another example of literary allusion!

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Example #2: Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah (1984)

Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya She tied you to the kitchen chair She broke your throne and she cut your hair And from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

The second stanza of Leonard Cohen’s most covered song, Hallelujah, skillfully merges two biblical accounts. In the first three verses, it alludes to the story of David and Bathsheba, and the moment the Jewish king falls in love with the wife of Uriah the Hittite: “One evening David got up from his bed and walked around on the roof of the palace. From the roof he saw a woman bathing. The woman was very beautiful” (2 Samuel 11:2). Furthermore, the second three verses refer to the story of Samson, an Israelite of enormous strength, who lost all of it after his lover Delilah betrayed him and cut his hair (Judges 13-16). However, Cohen subverts the climax of this story, portraying the emasculated Samson/David not as a bitter man, but one ready to greet his defeat with a “Hallelujah.”

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Example #3: Frank Turner, 1933 (2018)

The first time it was a tragedy The second time is a farce Outside it’s 1933 so I’m hitting the bar.

Written—by his own admission—during the U.S. election campaign of 2016, 1933 refers, both in the title and in the last verse of the pre-chorus excerpted above, to the year when the Nazis came to power in Germany. In Turner’s opinion, something similar is happening around us at the moment. (The chorus states this explicitly: “I don’t know what’s going on anymore/ The world outside is burning with a brand-new light/ But it isn’t one that makes me feel warm.”) To point out how farcical this all seems, he alludes to a famous Karl Marx observation in the first two verses above. It can be found in The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Napoleon and, originally, it goes something like this: “Hegel remarks somewhere that all great, world-historical facts and personages occur, as it were, twice. He has forgotten to add: the first time as tragedy, the second as farce.”

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ellanainthetardis · 6 years

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This story is part of the 52 stories in 52 weeks challenge created by ourwritingtherapy on tumblr. Week 4 : A story about three siblings.

I wanted to write something about my rogue Hawke for a while now so… Here we go. This takes place after Act 1.[ff] or [ao3]

Leda Hawke & Her Siblings

Leda Hawke haunts the corridors of the Hanged Man so often that she knows its every nook and cranny. The tavern, at least, feels familiar. Far more familiar than the house in Hightown in any case.

She can get used to it, she knows: being rich, being a part of the nobility… Half of what she does is done to make money, to never suffer poverty again. It made her ruthless, sure, but it has also kept a roof over her family’s head for a long time.

She doesn’t knock on Varric’s door, she rudely barges in instead, like she always does. Or, rather, like she used to do before that expedition in the Deep Roads. Before…

Varric is sitting at the big table in the main part of his room, scribbling away on a stained piece of parchment. That, too, is comforting. He looks up when she sinks on the chair next to him but when she simply pours herself a glass of wine from the pitcher on the table and remains silent, he goes back to his writing without a word.

That’s what she likes about the dwarf, the reason why she doesn’t hesitate to call him her best friend when she is so reluctant to forge friendships, to let people in – although, she seems to have been breaking that rule of late given the number of companions she has been gathering lately – he knows to respect her silence. He can be rowdy like the best of them, can command a room with the cheer power of his storytelling, can out drink anyone in Kirkwall… But he knows how to be silent too.

If she had wanted a distraction, he knows she would have stayed in the main room of the tavern: she would have challenged Isabella to a drinking contest, dragged a reluctant smirk out of Fenris, tried to corrupt Aveline by buying her that ale the captain likes, humored Merril by listening to her discoveries of what living in Kirkwall entails, promised Anders they would have every occasion of kicking Templars’ asses eventually, promised Bethany that…

The pain is still fresh and her fingers clench the tumbler in her hand.

Where is Bethany now? Is it truly lucky to have come across the Wardens or has she sentenced her sister to a fate worse than death?

Bethany, sweet Bethany, is no fighter. She has the soul of a healer, a gentle soul…

Everything Leda has ever done has been to protect her sister. Even when Carver disapproved, even when Carver enrolled into the King’s army… Her blades have always been raised in Bethany’s defense. Every scheme, every deal, each penny she’s ever made…

She’s never seen eye to eye with Carver. Even when they were children… Carver was head strong and, in typical boyish fashion, resented his big sister defending him. In truth, Leda thought he resented her being better than him in a fight. Carver might have had the strength and the skills to wave around a big sword but she is deadly with her double blades, faster too – and more elegant.

That’s something Isabella understands perfectly and Fenris always lifts his eyebrows at, not quite disapproving but more amused at her insistence that rogues make better fighters than warriors…

She has felt Carver’s loss, of course, but… So much had been happening at the time… And she isn’t the tearing up type. She doesn’t cry, she doesn’t mourn, she doesn’t…

Carver’s death hurt a lot but she feels Bethany’s disappearance like a severed limb.

It’s such an ingrained reflex to check out for templars when she enters a building or steps out into the sun, such a habit to turn to her left and exchange a look with Bethany to seek her opinion about a tricky situation…

The weight of her mother’s gaze is too heavy to bear nowadays.

Leda is a little too aware her mother would have preferred having either of her other children safe with her rather than her. She’s never been the favorite. She’s always been the outcast. She’s the one who does what’s necessary and they fear her and loathe her for it, her quickness to draw her blade, the nonchalance with which she would slit a throat… She’s the one who keeps them all safe and that isn’t a pretty reality in this world.

She understands, really.

She understands how Carver and his shiny uniform made her mother proud.

She understands how Bethany’s kindness and devotion warned her mother’s heart.

She understands she’s not what her mother would have wanted out of her first born.

Her tumbler is empty so she places it down and pulls out her favorite dagger. The blade glints in the flickering lights of the candles, the steel clean for now. The night is young yet, though. She might decide to take a stroll toward the docks were trouble is sure to arise one way or another…

Varric places his quill down, contemplates the few sheets of parchment in front of him and sighs, wiping his ink-stained fingers on a nearby piece of cloth. “Dare I ask whose death you’re plotting, Killer?”

She would have murdered anyone else over that nickname. She would have laughed and then proved them true just because…

Well, she is, isn’t she? Mercenary to hire. She tries never to kill someone who doesn’t deserve it. She has a thing for innocents, or so Bethany claims, she likes to protect them, to shield them, to help them escape whatever is plaguing them… But she does kill often and, if she must say so herself, well. She has a gift for death, she cannot help it. She sees, she judges, she passes along the sentence and her hand never sways.

“Not sure yet.” she shrugs. “Do you think we can find smugglers in Darktown? Aveline’s been complaining about that new gang since we came back.”

“One thing we can always find in Darktown for sure: a good fight.” he snorts.

His tone is light but his gaze is attentive and she knows he sees everything she doesn’t want to acknowledge – starting with the dark bags under her eyes. He won’t push, she knows that too. And she’s grateful for it because…

“Do you have troubles sleeping?” she asks and it’s barely a murmur. They haven’t discussed what happened in the Deep Roads, not really. “My dreams…”

She leaves it at that.

“Dwarves don’t dream.” he reminds her, rubbing his eyes. “But sleep doesn’t come easy for me either. Are you worried about Sunshine?”

It’s a delicate subject because it’s his brother’s fault if Bethany… It would be easy to switch the blame, very easy… But she knows better than blame one sibling for the sin of another. She’s the living proof you can be totally different from your brother. Or your sister.

“I’ve failed them.” she confesses. Only to Varric would she say this, she thinks. “Bethany. Carver. My mother…”

“Hawke.” he sighs. “Is there any point at all in telling you it wasn’t your fault? Because it wasn’t. You can only do so much, you know.”

Before she can answer that – dismiss it or finally accept it, she’s not sure – Isabella pops her head in the doorway. “There you are! We’ve been looking all around for you. I’ve been teaching Merril Wicked Grace, she wants to try a real game now.”

Varric laughs but shakes his head. “I won’t let you steal the kid’s money, Rivaini.”

Isabella rolls her eyes and winks at Hawke. “You’re in, right?”

“Varric’s in too.” Leda confirms, standing up. “And how would you like a trip to Darktown afterwards? We can take Merril with us. It will be a party.”

Isabella’s grin is dangerous. “I love that kind of party.”

“Most people try to stay out of troubles, you know.” Varric observes.

Leda laughs first but Isabella soon follows, bumping her hip against hers as they walk down the Hanged Man’s corridor leading to the main part of the tavern, leaving Varric to follow after them.

“What a boring life those people must have.” Isabella mocks.

And Leda whole-heartedly agrees.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfic #hawke #varric tethras #dragon age fic #tales of da

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lobsters-on-their-heads · 7 years

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A Galaxy of Women, Chap. 4

The entire work can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11836590

The creators are looking for more contributors to this story, so if you’re interested, contact @afrenchclone or @salixsericea.

As always, I love me some feedback.

On their third morning in San Juan, Puerto Rico, around four o'clock, Delphine's phone rang. It was set to receive calls and texts from anywhere in Latin America, and the number calling was Costa Rican.

“Sí, hola?” Delphine said, pushing her hand through her hair and squinting at the sudden light as Cosima switched on a lamp. Her Spanish was good, but she preferred to have a little more warning before embarking on a conversation.

The woman on the other end said she was Marta, a bartender from Cahuita who'd gotten Delphine's number from Cosima several days earlier, when they were looking for Erika Maria Santos. Erika Maria, Marta told her, was in the hospital, and the prognosis was not good.

“Your friend, she said she was Erika's sister,” Marta said.

“Sí,” Delphine said, still reeling from sleep. “Sí, gracias.” She got the name of the hospital and confirmed that Marta was calling from her own personal phone and could receive calls. “One more thing,” Delphine said. “Does Erika know we're coming? Does she know about Cosima?”

It had been tricky figuring out how exactly to present themselves to all of the unaware Ledas. For those not presenting symptoms, it was simpler because they didn't have to rush. First, they got in touch with their medical providers and explained that they were conducting research on women with certain characteristics, and provided a financial incentive to women who participated. They were as specific as possible without identifying individuals, but in addition to the Ledas, they still ended up with a number of non-Leda women getting placebo injections, some money, and a pleasant smile from Dr. Cormier. It didn't catch nearly as many Ledas as they'd hoped, though, so they moved onto other tactics. They stalked the Ledas' social media sites, looking for signs of symptoms, and tried talking to friends and family members. If the Leda had a job that made them available to the public, like saleswoman or waitress, either Cosima or Delphine tried observing them that way, to determine the best ways of making contact. It was not so different from Delphine's early days as a Dyad monitor, a fact not lost on either of them. Of course, no matter how hard they tried, some of the clones were slipping through their fingers. In cases like Erika Maria Santos, slipping through could mean dying.

So, on the search for Erika Maria Santos, they had told everyone that Cosima was her long-lost sister. It wasn't wrong, and it was likely to get people's attention.

“No,” Marta said. “She's been unconscious since they brought her in. You're the only people I know to contact. She....” Marta's voice broke. “She needs to have her family here. In case... in case...”

“I know,” Delphine whispered. “We're on our way. Thank you.”

Beside her, Cosima sat up and yawned. “Lemme guess. We're going back to Costa Rica?”

“Sí,” Delphine said, forgetting her English for a moment. “To Limon. She's in hospital there.”

“Oh shit. Okay.” With that, Cosima was up and out of bed, turning on lights and gathering belongings even as she made her way to the bathroom.

* * *

“Out of curiosity,” Cosima asked, “how much did this flight cost?”

“All together? Just over $1,400 for us both.”

“Shit.” Their tickets from Toronto to Cartagena had been less than that. Cosima settled into her seat on the Copa Airlines flight Delphine had booked a few hours prior. She'd packed their bags while Delphine handled the travel arrangements, putting everything onto the debit card linked through the Sadler and Daughters Foundation, funded by Rachel Duncan. Cosima decided not to ask how much their bus trip from San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, to Limon would cost, or the last minute hotel room. Their trip to San Juan had been last minute, too, but not nearly as close to the wire as this.

“We don't know how much time she has,” Delphine said softly. “It's worth the extra money.”

“Oh, no question. We're lucky we could even get a flight this early. And sitting together, too!” She tucked her hand into the side pocket of Delphine's pants and peered out the window at the lightening sky over Puerto Rico. “Too bad we couldn't get a direct flight, though. That's my only complaint.”

Delphine kissed her temple, knowing the complaint was minor, but that they would be exhausted by the time they reached Limon that evening. “Try to rest. We'll have to run once we get to Panama City for the layover.”

* * *

Cosima didn't remember falling asleep, but then Delphine was nudging her awake, and she found herself tucked against Delphine, her legs cramped and her chin damp with drool. “Mmpph,” she said.

“I know. Come on.”

Delphine wasn't wrong about needing to run in Panama City, either. Their layover was all of fifty-five minutes long, not even giving them enough time to use the bathroom between finding the connecting terminal and fighting through other travelers. Once they got to their gate, they had to stand in line behind gaggles of enthusiastic English-speaking young people with bulging hiking packs and loud voices which, in a more charitable mood, would have reminded Cosima of herself ten years earlier. Behind them, a family squabbled in Spanish while their toddler played a video on a phone with the speaker on. Cosima put both hands on top of her head and took a deep breath.

Erika Maria Santos is dying, she reminded herself. Her lungs are filled with blood, her kidneys have stopped working, and she's been unconscious for... how long now? Too long. She's dying. With that focus, it was a little harder to be upset by her fellow travelers. Just a little.

Delphine, meanwhile, took it all in stride. When they'd exited their last plane, Delphine had set a pace to their next terminal that nearly left Cosima in the dust, but now Delphine had settled into a practiced, empty state of indifference. Her face was blank, her posture relaxed, and her eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance. For all Cosima knew, Delphine had fallen asleep with her eyes open, and even the sudden scream of the toddler or burst of laughter from the college kids did nothing to rouse her. Cosima had a feeling that pinching her would get a reaction, but it was neither the time nor the place for that sort of brattiness.

To keep herself sane and her hands to herself, Cosima pulled out her cell phone and took it off airplane mode. A few seconds later, a string of messages from Sarah popped up, starting almost an hour prior.

These kids are driving me fucking nuts. I'm going to kill them. Srsly. Alison's useless. Felix is gone. Send help.

Despite herself, Cosima laughed. Sarah had custody of Charlotte for the summer, since the arrangement with Art and his ex-wife had run its course. Charlotte was a great kid, but it still meant that Sarah had two prepubescent girls under her roof. She remembered driving her own parents crazy at that age when they'd spent weeks out to sea together, and there'd only been one Cosima.

You'll be fine, she texted back. Put them outside if you have to.

Five minutes later, the line began inching forward, and Sarah replied. Fuck that. I'm going to kill both of them.

Don't. Skype later? Flight's right now.

Before she got a response, the check-in line picked up, and she and Delphine shuffled onto the plane back to Costa Rica.

* * *

Twelve hours later, they finally collapsed onto a hotel bed in Limon, their luggage dropped carelessly at the foot of the bed, medical equipment set a bit more carefully upon the luggage rack.

“Tomorrow's better,” Cosima murmured. “Fuck today.”

Delphine didn't respond, but turned her head to look at Cosima. They'd visited Erika Maria Santos in the hospital, long enough to determine that she was stable and for Delphine to show the staff her medical credentials. They would return the next day to begin treatment.

“I don't think the doctor had any idea what you were saying there towards the end,” Cosima said. “I think half of it was in French.”

“Probably.” Delphine couldn't remember what she'd said, either, but it was enough to convince the doctors to let her come back tomorrow. Rolling over, she scooted towards Cosima and wrapped an arm and a leg around her. “I was hoping we could begin treatment today, though.”

Cosima dropped a light kiss onto her nose. “Yeah, but if you’re too tired to figure out how your phone works, you probably shouldn't be sticking needles in someone's uterus.”

“Mmmf.” When she closed her eyes, Delphine saw Erika Maria on her hospital bed, hooked up to a nasal cannula, heart monitor, neural electrodes, and kidney dialysis. The yellowish tinge on her skin indicated liver problems, as well. The only other patient she'd seen with such an advanced case had been Jennifer Fitzsimmons. At least Erika Maria hadn't her lost her hair; it lay in dark, matted clumps around her head and shoulders. She wore traces of makeup that no one had bothered to wash off since her arrival. She could have been Cosima.

That was the thought Delphine couldn't shake. It could have been Cosima dying there, her body turning violently against her, her family more than a country away. No, she thought, Cosima would have had her family there, just not her parents. Her sisters would have been there. Siobhan would've been there. She tightened her arm around Cosima's midsection and pressed her face into the crook of her neck. Cosima smelled like stale sweat and public bathroom soap, but that was all she smelled like. There was no blood, no bile, no hospital sanitation odors to be found. A moment later, Cosima shifted and took a deep, untroubled breath, and Delphine sighed against her skin.

“Are you gonna fall asleep like that?” Cosima asked.

“Maybe.”

A silent laugh shook Cosima's body. “You'll be uncomfortable when you wake up.” She reached a hand around to unhook Delphine's bra through her shirt, then wiggled her hand under Delphine's twisted torso to undo her belt, rather a more difficult feat from this angle. “Come on, roll over. Let's get you undressed.”

Delphine smirked as she rolled onto her back. “If that's your idea of a come on...”

In response, Cosima reached up under Delphine's shirt and pinched the underside of her right breast, making her squeak and jerk up from the bed. With a pretend scowl, Delphine propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at Cosima, who gave her a pointy smile from her position above Delphine's hips.

“You look a little more awake now,” Cosima commented, unfastening Delphine's pants and tugging down a bit to kiss her right above her pubic hair, then dropping light kisses up to her navel. Delphine whined and fell back onto her back.

“Barely.” She stroked her hand over Cosima's hair. She wanted to undo the bun Cosima'd had her dreads in all day, but she lacked the energy. If Cosima tried going down on her now, she would probably just fall asleep.

Luckily, Cosima saw the same eventuality. Nudging Delphine to raise her hips, she pulled Delphine's pants down and off, and folded them neatly beside their suitcase. She needed more help to get Delphine's shirt off, but within a few minutes she had Delphine in nothing but her underwear. Once her work was done, she sat several inches away, looking down at her with that side smile of hers. Delphine tried meeting her eyes, but her eyelids kept closing. Soon, Cosima was tucked a blanket up around her shoulders, though Delphine didn't remember getting under the covers.

“You'll be here in the morning,” Delphine murmured.

“Yes, I will, love.” Cosima kissed her and stroked her cheek. “I promise.”

* * *

They gave Erika Maria the first treatment early the next day. She had woken up long enough to be introduced to Delphine and to consent to the treatment. Her friend Marta was there for part of the day, holding her hand and reading to her from a trashy romance novel they both loved, while Delphine and Cosima sat nearby and monitored her progress.

“Will she be okay?” Marta asked.

“Sí,” Delphine assured her. “The treatment's had a 100% success rate so far.”

As a scientist, Cosima worried about claiming such a high rate, but she knew it was true. After all, the only two subjects who'd been treated after showing serious symptoms were her and Charlotte, and they were both fully recovered. Thinking of Charlotte reminded her of Sarah's text the morning prior. Once she and Delphine made sure Erika Maria wasn't having any immediate reactions to the treatment, they headed out into the city, and Cosima texted Sarah back.

Skype tonight?

Sarah replied much later in the day, after Cosima and Delphine had strolled through most of the town and bought a few souvenirs to send back to Toronto. YES, Sarah said. Please.

“Uh oh.”

Delphine looked back at her from the rack of skirts she was looking at. “What's the matter?”

“Sarah's struggling with the girls. I'll Skype with her tonight.”

“Mmm. Sarah's not used to being a full-time mother.” She turned back to look at the skirts, so Cosima couldn't see her face, but her tone was neutral.

“I guess not. She's doing her best, though. Probably doing better than I would be in her position.”

“Did she get the presents you sent?”

“I guess so. She didn't say.” Charlotte's birthday had been a week earlier, and Cosima had sent her a small gift from Brazil as well as a large rock collection from an online science store. It was Charlotte's first birthday with her clone family, and Cosima felt bad being away for it. The least she could do was send her a nice birthday present.

That night, Delphine settled onto a chair on their third-floor hotel balcony with a novel and Cosima's shawl wrapped around her shoulders while Cosima Skyped her sister back in Canada. While she waited for Sarah to answer, Cosima watched Delphine stretch and prop her slender feet onto the rain-spattered-railing.

The computer blooped and bleeped, and Sarah's face appeared on the screen. “Hey, Cos. What country are you in now?”

“Costa Rica. We've been bouncing around a lot recently, though.”

“Recently?” Sarah asked. “Since you left Canada you've been bouncing around a lot. You and Delphine aren't sick of each other yet, are you?”

“No.” She glanced back at her girlfriend on the balcony and smiled. “No, I don't think we're in much danger of that right now. Still very much in love.”

“Good.” Sarah sighed and leaned back in her chair. She was sitting in the kitchen of her house, and behind her Cosima saw the drawings from the girls, mostly Kira, she suspected, on the refrigerator. “How's everything else?” she asked. “You curing a lot of sisters?”

“Yup. Eleven vaccinations, one treatment. The girl we saw today was in pretty bad shape. Worse than I was, but she'll be okay now.”

“You're saving lives out there, Cos.”

“Yeah.” Cosima grinned at that. “Yeah, we are. But tell me what's going on with you.”

Sarah pushed her hands through her hair and looked past the laptop, then shook her head. Dropping her voice a bit, she said, “Charlotte's not doing well.”

“No? What's wrong?”

“I dunno. Hormone stuff, maybe, but I think it could be more than that. Kira's being a little brat, too, so that's not helping.”

Cosima nodded sympathetically. Kira was nine now, nudging up into puberty, and Cosima suspected that some of the hormone treatments she'd gotten at Dyad still had lingering effects. Charlotte was eleven. Just before they left, Art told them that Charlotte had started her period, but she didn't want anyone to know about it. Cosima remembered well how she'd felt at that age, when a slight correction from her mother could send her running away sobbing and slamming doors.

“Thanks for the presents, by the way,” Sarah went on, but Cosima caught a note of something other than gratitude in her voice.

“Did Charlotte like them?”

“Well, she liked the wooden puzzle thing and the map of the Amazon.”

There was a pause, so Cosima prompted, “and the rock collection?”

Sarah sighed again. “When she opened that, she ran up to her room crying and didn't come down for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, shit.” As soon as she heard that, it made sense. Charlotte had loved her rock collection on the island, when Cosima first met her and she was living with Susan Duncan, but she wasn't able to bring it with her when they left. The gift had been meant as a replacement, but now Cosima could see that it was a reminder of what Charlotte had lost.

“Yeah, I dunno. She hasn't looked at it since. I thought about sending it back, but I figured I'd talk to you about it first.”

“Don't send it back. Give her a little time. Maybe put it somewhere she can't see it, but she knows where it is. If she doesn't want it in a couple of months, we'll find someone else who does. It's okay.”

“Yeah.” Sarah smirked then. “Maybe I'll give it to Helena. She can give the boys fancy rocks to play with instead of regular ones.”

“There you go. Great plan.”

Sarah picked up a mug and looked into its depths before speaking again. “Charlotte wants to live with you. She's said that a couple of times. She's gotten Kira saying that she wants to live with you, too, a couple times.”

“Really?” Cosima looked around the hotel room. It was nice, though not as nice as the price would suggest, and small. When they showered, the entire bathroom floor got wet no matter how careful they were, but it did have a nice heated towel rack. Regardless, it was a fine room for a pair of love-struck scientists on a mission, not for an eleven-year-old. “Charlotte knows that Delphine and I aren't really living anywhere right now, right?”

“Oh, yeah, she knows. She wants to be out traveling with you two, instead of stuck here, going to middle school orientation next week.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, nobody likes middle school. She's got a lot to be nervous about.”

“She doesn't have to yell at me about it, though.”

Charlotte yelling was a difficult picture to imagine, but she took Sarah's word for it. “Maybe we can Skype with her. We're heading back to Brazil tomorrow afternoon, so maybe the day after that?”

“Sounds good to me.”

After closing Skype, Cosima stepped out onto the balcony. “¿Todo bien?” Delphine asked.

“Mmm... Charlotte says she wants to come traveling with us.”

“Please don't tell me you told her yes.”

Leaning against the railing, Cosima took Delphine's big toe between her thumb and forefinger and gently wiggled it. Delphine's feet were just as graceful as her hands; she was the only woman whose toes Cosima enjoyed sucking on. “I did not. Don't worry. I would be happy to have her once we've settled down and cured everybody, but until then...” She shook her head. “Not a good idea.”

“No, it's not.” Delphine closed her novel and set it in her lap as Cosima moved on to wiggle each of her toes in turn, then ran her thumb up the sole of each foot, firmly enough not to tickle.

“Whatcha thinkin' about?” Cosima asked.

“After we've cured everyone. What we'll do then.”

“Yeah?” Cosima moved her hand to Delphine's ankle, stroking the tendon above her heel up to the lower part of her calf. Delphine was wearing a long flowy skirt, and in this position, Cosima could reach over and reveal most of Delphine's legs with just a flick of her hand. She held back, for now. “What about that?”

She propped her head in her hand and watched Cosima play with her feet some more before answering. “We'll have to get real jobs. Every time I start working on my CV, it's gets too complicated, so I stop.”

Real jobs. Cosima had not thought about getting a real job since she left Dyad. Staying alive, finding a cure, finding Delphine, and caring for her sisters had always been more important. She didn't really want to start thinking about it now, either, so she slid her hand farther along Delphine's calf. “We've got time later to worry about that.

“Yes, I know.” Delphine sucked her lower lip in between her teeth and worked on it for a moment. “We could live together,” she said.

Even just hearing her say those words made Cosima's heart melt. A smile spreading across her face, she said, “We could. I was kind of hoping that we would, actually. I don't know where we'll be, but I want us to be together.”

Delphine's large dark eyes softened, and she took her feet from the damp railing to lean towards Cosima. Taking her by the waist, she tilted her head up to kiss her, then pulled her down into her lap. Cosima pushed her fingers through Delphine's still-damp curls and tasted the residue of the beer they'd had with dinner on Delphine's tongue. “Come on,” she whispered, “there's a bed inside that's a lot more comfortable than this chair.”

#orphan black fanfiction #post-canon #cophine

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maslany-news · 7 years

Link

Last month, the ever-twisting Orphan Black began its final season on BBC America. Soon, there will be no more clones—no more Sarah, Alison, Cosima, Rachel, Helena, and seestras—and no more sinister conspiracies to uncover. For die-hard fans of the show—which is, really, anyone who's watched more that one episode—it's an equally sad and exciting prospect. Of particular interest is what Tatiana Maslany, who plays every adult "Leda" clone on the show, will do next. Orphan Black has been a career-defining project for the Canadian actor, who finally won a well-deserved Emmy for her performance last year. She already has several films in the works: come September, she'll star opposite Jake Gyllenhaal in Stronger, David Gordon Green's retelling of the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. Earlier this year, she screened a short, Apart From Everything, at the Palm Springs International Film Festival. Curently, she is working with her boyfriend Tom Cullen on a new collaboration with writer-director Joey Klein. Here, Maslany talks to another Emmy-winning (and, as of last week, 2017 Emmy-nominated) actor, Orange is the New Black's Uzo Aduba.

UZO ADUBA: Where are you right now? TATIANA MASLANY: I'm in L.A. We just moved here three weeks ago. I'm sitting on the floor in one of our rooms that's unfinished. Are you in New York? ADUBA: I am in New York. I'm chilling out because I'm tonight I'm seeing U2 for the first time. MASLANY: Are you a huge U2 fan? ADUBA: Huge. I love U2. I just got my wisdom teeth pulled and I look like a chipmunk, but I do not care. That's how much I love U2. [laughs] MASLANY: That's amazing. ADUBA: I'll be singing and it'll be fun. I'm really excited to do this; I've never done anything like this before. Before we talk about Orphan Black, I just saw the trailer for Stronger and it looks so good. MASLANY: That was intense. You're from Boston right?

ADUBA: Yes. The accents are really good. MASLANY: Always a contentious point. ADUBA: For sure. It's hard to do, but you guys are doing it and it sounds authentic. The movie itself looks really good. MASLANY: We filmed last spring, kind of around the marathon. I'd never been to Boston before and being in the city at that time—being in the city in general—was a really incredible experience. To be telling that story so soon after it happened... people were so supportive of the film being made and really generous. When we were shooting the actual marathon scene there was this extra, who was an actor, but also a lot of his friends were affected by the tragedy and he was too, just being in the city. We shot that sequence of running over five hours, and he and I were the only ones who kept running the whole time. He just kept running to stay with me, and it was just the most beautiful gesture of commitment to being authentic. ADUBA: I was in Amsterdam when it happened, and it couldn't have been a more random place. I was visiting one of my hometown best friends, and we were watching the news and calling up family. I tried to explain that everybodycelebrates the marathon in Boston; it's Patriot's Day, but everybody calls it "Marathon Monday," and if you grow up there you know what that day symbolizes. What is it like be working on something that is history? This actually occurred, these people do exist; people are feeling it in a different way. What is it like playing a real person versus say, in Orphan Black where you're playing all these clones on clones? MASLANY: It's a daunting thing to be playing a real person and to have contact with her and meet her and be in her circle a little bit. It's an odd thing. There's so much responsibility to tell the story honestly and truthfully, and at the same time, you start to develop a friendship with this person—or I did. I felt a real kinship with her and just her generosity. Erin Hurley, who I play in the movie—who's boyfriend, Jeff Bauman, lost his legs in the bombing—was running and was a mile out from the very end [when it happened]. I think I still struggle with the concept that I was stepping in her footsteps. I took it extremely seriously, but the way I approached her was not like I was doing an imitation or an impression or a characterization of her, but more so what the conflict was that she was going through. I really focused on what she was going through more than her actual mannerisms because, for me, it wasn't about that. Have you ever played a real person who you've met in real life or read about? ADUBA: I never played anyone I've met. Suzanne [in Orange is the New Black] is a real person that Piper [Kerman] met in prison, but it's still told through the gaze of Piper. It's not Suzanne's account of her life, and I never met with her to be able to get my own personal take on who she is and to inject that into the performance. I like what you said about trying to latch onto the emotional journey of what she was going through at that point rather than do an impersonation of her. Is that typically your style of acting and how you come into characters? In Orphan Black, is that how you find a way into all of these women? When clones are playing other clones in the show, are they doing impersonations? MASLANY: Those moments are the greatest joy. I get to play with all of the things that we do as people where we see somebody a certain way, we judge somebody, we empathize with something in someone—all of the judgments, good and bad, that we have of people and how that makes us behave. If Sarah is playing Alison, Sarah's judgments about Alison, the impression that she gets and the impersonation that she does. I like playing with the artifice of it and letting the mistakes and the cracks seep through. When I do those scenes, we'll do the blocking and the rehearsal and, if I'm Sarah as Alison, I'll do it in Sarah's voice with Sarah's physicality. Once the camera starts rolling, I like to let Sarah play as Alison. It throws us all off. It's letting that character speak, letting Sarah have all of her judgments about Alison and whatever her physical and emotional experience is, which is really fun to do. ADUBA: I watch the show and it's genius, just strictly from the acting of it. Just the order and the ability to organize oneself, to have such a clear identity for each character so that Sarah doesn't become Alison and Cosima doesn't become Sarah. It needs to be super clear in the actor's mind in order for us to get it, which, I think, makes you exceptional. How did you come to find acting? I know you were a ballet dancer when you were younger. MASLANY: I've always loved performing in whatever capacity. From the age of 4, I was in hours of dance class—jazz and ballet—and loved it. I don't know exactly what drew me to it. I would force my parents to watch me and my brother Daniel perform Jesus Christ Superstar for hours in the living room. ADUBA: No way! Are you serious? MASLANY: Yeah. [laughs] I think I saw it when I was five. ADUBA: I could start singing it right now. [laughs] MASLANY: I would love to hear you do that! ADUBA: I'm not joking. One of my dream roles is Judas. MASLANY: How has that not happened? I feel like that's a no-brainer. [starts singing] ADUBA: I love that guitar. [makes guitar sounds] MASLANY: I was playing it for [my boyfriend] Tom [Cullen] the other day in the car. We were driving down the highway, and I was like, "I really need to hear the intro to Jesus Christ Superstar." He was like, "This is the nerdiest shit on the planet." But we used to dance around to that and make our parents buy tickets for our performances. ADUBA: At your house? MASLANY: At our house, in the living room. We'd cut out little tickets; we already had a business sense about it. We would have so much fun performing and making up dances. It was always part of us,. Then when I was nine, my mom saw this audition, a cattle call for kids to play orphans in Oliver at the local community theater. I auditioned for that and it was my first time singing in public. I got the part of "Orphan #43," or whatever, and that was the beginning of it. After that, I couldn't get enough of it. I loved the rush of being on stage and how fun it was to be around kids my age who were all getting to play make-believe and dress up in costumes. When you're a kid and are able to do that, it's the most fun. Before I moved to Toronto when I was 20, I'd done movies and been away filming in different provinces in Canada. I was really lucky to have fallen into it, but it was only when I turned 20 and a friend showed me [John] Cassavetes's films, that I was like, "Oh, shit. This is the possibility for what this art form can be and how it can transport people and transport actors." I really took a second look at what I was doing, because I had been doing it to get attention and for the rush of performing. It was my career, but I was 9 years old to 20, and who actually knows what their career is at that age? For the last ten years, I've been deepening my training. The last class I did was a year ago in New York—Strasberg stuff. That's my favorite place to be, back in class and studying. ADUBA: It's about the learning of the thing. That's my experience, at least. There's nothing to be gained other than a deeper knowledge of how to pursue the craft of it. MASLANY: Have you found anything new since the success of Orange is the New Black and the specific accolades you've received? Has that changed your approach to work or the way you feel about it? You're so fearless in your work and your commitment to your character is massive. ADUBA: I don't know if this is going to make me sound more sane or crazy, but when I am working, it is the most alive place for me. That statement feels louder that I intend it to, but that's the only way I know how to frame it. It's the safest place I know and definitely the most honest place I know. Maybe it's that charge that you were talking about when you were a kid. When I'm in that space, that artistic, creative space of making something, I don't think about anything else. Whether it's the show or a play, all I'm thinking about is how do I get this person from stop A on this train to stop B? I'm still a person and I have my own life timeline happening simultaneously, [but] I love to act. It's my safe space. I turn off the noise and shut the door on the world. MASLANY: That's amazing, that protectiveness of the work. I totally relate to shutting out the noise. Same as you, I feel the safest, the most vulnerable, and the most excited and alive in work. ADUBA: We've seen each other in real life, and I've already gushed about Orphan Black, but I'll gush again. We don't get to see often, or often enough, what you do played in the female form. It's pretty fucking cool. What did you feel about that when you were stepping into those shoes? MASLANY: I was very excited to read female characters like these. I was excited even at the prospect of playing one of them; I was excited to be in the audition room and to get to play a few of the characters for an hour. I was dreaming, obviously, about getting the part, but just doing the audition was a thrill enough. Just to get to stretch and work like that in an audition space, where usually you do a scene and you're out. This was four different characters, changing in front of everyone, with the process being outed and without any preciousness. I couldn't step out of the room and be like, "Give me a moment." I just walked in with a bag of crap in my hands, and was like, "I'm going to put on these glasses now and play in front of you." The response that people have had to the show in terms of the questions of identity and the feminist rhetoric, it was really exciting and sort of a surprise to me. Weirdly, the most I was thinking about gender when I was playing these characters was when John Fawcett, the showrunner, said to me, "I think Alison is the most feminine." I was like "Okay. What does that mean?" I had this block in my head: "What does that mean that she's ‘feminine'?" I was watching videos to figure it out. For some reason, the characters defy gender to me in a way: Helena is this Ukrainian serial killer who is now domesticated. Gender wasn't even a concept to her; she was beyond that almost. My favorite actor on the planet is Gena Rowlands and she plays women who, to me, somehow defy gender. They are women, they are feminine, they are masculine, they are everything. There's something exciting about that. I don't know how to articulate it exactly. I guess it's busting out of the archetypes a little bit and not feeling restricted. With Suzanne, she encompasses so many things and is such a complex character, did you understand her when you first saw her? What was your thought? ADUBA: When I first saw her, I understood it as simply a love story: this is someone who is in pursuit of love. That's what I drafted out of what I read. It's funny, because you were saying you didn't think of it so much as identity, and I didn't think of it as so much as orientation. I knew she was in love with a woman, but that did not factor, somehow, into her expression for me. I've seen her now fall in love, or attempt love, with someone else, and it still doesn't hold firm for me. How we choose to define these terms has always been fascinating and curious to me—where that Webster's definition came from. I'm currently watching and reading and playing a woman for whom that point feels so inconsequential to the action that is being asked of her. When I started, for me it was just a love story, and what I've I learned about her over the years is that she falls hard. She is a lover. If she sets her sight on someone, she is committed and that was what I got out of her. She is in, most times to her detriment. That was the thing I latched onto. We've seen her play out love in an intimate way, in a maternal way. She's not a lover or a fighter; she's a lover and a fighter. She can be both very easily. Suzanne doesn't always get it right, but she knows she's trying to do the best she can with the tools she has to make sense of life, the world, the people who love her, and the people who she feels are attacking the people that she loves. MASLANY: The way you describe Suzanne is exactly the way I would describe Helena in our show—that lover-fighter thing. She hasn't necessarily been equipped in a way that everyone deserves to be, but she's doing the best with what she has and she's learning constantly. Her heart is opening as well as her capacity to fight; the two are growing at the exact same moment. She flips between wanting to be this very socialized, "normal" person, but her instincts are more base and animal, and she has the capacity for both in her. They are in conflict and are married in her at the same time. It's so much fun to play a character who carries two contrasting things inside of them, two polar opposite drives or instincts. ADUBA: Are any of the clones going to die? I'm just asking... [laughs] MASLANY: So, here's how it ends... ADUBA: Let me ask you this question: Would you sign up for it again, having now done it? MASLANY: I would never want to do a similar thing in terms of television. I don't know if you've ever done a one-woman show, but watching that on stage is my favorite thing on the planet. I'm so drawn to people who can do that and I would love to try it someday. I think that's the closest that I'd ever get. ADUBA: That would be so cool. I would love to see you do that.

#uzo aduba #interview magazine #interview #stronger #orphan black #tat x clones #news #july17 #2017 #tat x musicals #tbc

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nadaelkoshairy · 7 years

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Freakish Greek Mythology Stories

Well, well, where to start with Greek mythologies? When you hear the word Greek gods and goddesses, I am certain your mind have just clicked that it’s most probably a topic about the wise, however it’s completely the exact opposite. It’s just a chaotic world, that pretty much needs a superior other god to just control this mess. However, they just managed and lived with.

Just as it comes to this part of the world, I get pretty sure I can find more than a whole community living up there on Mount Olympus maintaining the light, rain and sea, etc... Even history can’t compliment them with anything further than being called nutty by nature.

Even though, these bizarre stories have been as lessons for the Greek, I bet it has something fun revolving around it, because having an affair with a swan, protecting your baby in your thigh or mistaking your son for a plant are definitely not just lessons.

Last but not least, condoms would have solved most of their problems and saved a whole lot of innocent souls. And please, the gods should never try being funny. Thank you.

10. Zeus

While being the king of Gods on mount Olympus and the god of the sky and thunder, he has had so much fun using his status in the community of Gods. Zeus was the typical jerk who possibly made most of the female population hate guys and hold a grudge against them. Even though, we haven’t heard of him for a while now, but his stories have been revolving all around us ever since. Zeus does have a rank for the biggest assholes in the Greek history and most probably the first. He had a thing for cheating on Hera, with anyone and in sometimes could be anything.

And yes, you most probably guessed his story of the next lines. A typical cheating story, but of course with a “Zeusian” twist. Well, it started when he was allured with Leda, and to get to her he had this perfect most logical decision to shift into a swan. Even worse, she was actually lured to have an affair with a swan. Pretty Sure the only good thing we got out of this is blessing our world with Helen of troy.

9. Hera

Of course, Hera wasn’t any better than her husband was; both wackos were literally made just for each other. Also being the queen of Gods was much of a punishment for every creature in the universe. Although she had a knack for creativity more than her husband did, but anyways the devil is most probably clapping for her ever since. Hera has been throwing dozens of punishments on so many Greek women and of course thanks to Zeus for that.

Zeus as we all know was playing around a lot and it doesn’t matter what he would do to reach a women. Whenever he was having some fun, a nymph called “Echo” would have some nice talk with Hera for matters of distraction. However it wasn’t a good idea, because when Hera made the discovery she had that nymph voiceless, unless if it had to repeat someone’s last couple of words!

Pretty much, no one could get bored of Hera’s stories, saying another one can give you another laugh for next couple of hours. It always has been thanks to Zeus, this time Hera impregnates herself (because she’s an effing strong independent woman, let alone she’s actually a goddess.) Giving birth to Hephaestus and just throwing him off Mount Olympus because he had some deformities and she can do better. Bet some of them just wished they had condoms.

8. Athena

Well yes we have been just through the first two in the list and it’s almost like we’ve had enough, but nothing worse than starting a war for no…logical reason?

We see here, Athena the goddess of wisdom, craft and of course war, had some issues too. It was a normal beauty competition between her, Hera and Aphrodite and the judge was Zeus until he rejected and gave this choice for shepherd from Mount Ida called Paris. Unfortunately, this poor Paris was a judge between three goddesses with supernatural powers, who tried to bribe him. Choosing Aphrodite (not because she’s the fairest, but she promised him with Helen, so yeahh.) While he was promised with Helen, Aphrodite promised to start the Trojan War. Of course in collaboration with the other fellow maniac and partner in crime, Hera.

Maybe, Athena can have more than one story, too. Apparently, winning over one of the gods in anything is assumed as a sin. Because she had troubles with being first over everyone, otherwise you don’t have a place in this world. A normal lady called Arachne was an exceptional weaver as she got the talent perfectly. Nevertheless, as soon as Athena heard of that, there was instantly a competition to be set between both of them. And as winning over Athena isn’t the best thing to do, Arachne was transformed into a spider. Now she’s just weaving forever. Still better than you Athena.

No wonder they had to have their capital called Athens.

7. Ixion

Ixion was a just a pathetic guy until things got better and Zeus had some pity for the guy to the extent of taking him up in Mount Olympus. Shouldn’t have trusted your instincts, Zeus. Because as soon as Ixion was there along with this community, he had a thing for Hera. A bit bigger than just a thing. Zeus was doubting Ixion’s loyalty so he had to be put under a “Zeusian” test. He created a cloud looking just as Hera and left it for Ixion’s fantasies to become real. Not enough weirdness he was actually seduced by a cloud, but the cloud was impregnated with what we know today as a centaur.

6. Kronos

Out of all the gods, I truly believe Kronos is the biggest asshole, even topping over Zeus who is his son. But now we actually have an explanation for Zeus messed up life. It’s genetics.

This dude was obsessed with power as much as Zeus was obsessed with getting every women in Greece. However, Kronos was a typical-god freak with anyone who would try to surpass him and his power. For that reason, he just had to kill all his children and end their lives. How he killed his children? He ate them all, except Zeus who was lucky enough. However, I am sure, the whole woman population would have been very grateful if Zeus was another delicious feast for his father.

Don’t forget, Kronos castrated his father. For the same exact reason.

5. Apollo

Before we start this story, we shall give a round of applause for Apollo taking the prize for the smartest way to escape an island. Apparently, his only solution was shifting himself into a dolphin. Yes, just as you read it and weird enough, it worked. Escaping 101.

He was left to grow up on an island, which somehow can never leave it and almost just stuck there for the rest of his life alone. Until this plan just clicked in his brain and he decided to embark on an adventure of his own. Because being a dolphin is so badass, he just had to discover his way. However, while on the way he found a ship that was having some hard time in a storm, so as a typical dolphin he jumps in a helps this ship to find somewhere safe. All while being a dolphin. Ehm... Apollo Dolphin, I mean.

4. Tantalus

Honestly, this guy was just trying to have some fun and might as well entertain Demeter who was really sad for her kid was kidnapped. And we also may call it gods’ humor, because that was never a lesson for anyone.

He was having a feast for god buddies and fellows. A barbecue actually (Yup, barbecues are a pretty old thing now.) Tantalus, being a funny guy just decided to barbecue his own son and feed him for the guests (Well, maybe meat was a bit expensive for him, or the meat he had saved for this feast was just rotten so he had no other choice.) However, well gods can of course differentiate between human meat and red meat, so he was busted and left to die out of hunger and thirst.

3. Hercules

Definitely, not all of this community are assholes and jerks, you get to see a hero every once in a while. Also, while some heroes can have their jerk-moments, Hercules was one of the purest in this chaotic environment. He was always seen as a very strong and brave man who would rescue the people of Greece and help the gods in different missions. And when he died, he was instantly sent to Mount Olympus to live among the gods and goddesses.

The story here tells that there once was a giant called Antaeus who was thought to be immortal while having his feet touching the ground (Perks of having your mother Gaia as the Earth.) The said beast was just killing anyone who would go to challenge him, until Hercules discovered the mystery behind his immortality and it no longer became a mystery. How he killed him? Picked the beast of the ground until he drained the life out of him. Pretty easy.

2. Erysichthon

A very rich and greedy man of the name Erysichthon was never really one who fears the gods and pretty sure didn’t get anything of those lessons. Once upon a time, he just cuts pieces of the sacred trees, and may we put more than a million line under the word “sacred”. Of course, the gods had to take an action, and Demeter was the one in chare this time for what this rich guy did. And as creative all them gods were, Erysichthon’s punishment was to live hungry for eternity. He ate everything he had or bought, he almost sold his daughter for food (Lucky he didn’t eat her.)

At the end, he just ate himself to his death.

1. Minos

Minos was just another man with no super powers like gods, but he was the king of Crete, which gave some sort of power, of course. And as normal as its getting, and we are acquainted now to the Greeks’ weird mythologies, Minos just had a whole lot of bad deeds and intentions.

He had some help from the King of Megara’s daughter by tricking her, to kill her father. But then, Minos decided that the best way to say thank you is to actually punish her for the crime by drowning the girl.

#Greek #greek mythology #ancient greece #ancient greek mythology #Zeus is the biggest asshole #and his wife too #pretty much all of them #gods and goddesses #greek gods and goddesses #greek myths #myths and legends #myths

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jacewilliams1 · 5 years

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Visiting the Mooney family

From the April 1976 issue of Flying magazine:

“HOT DAMN! I done bought myself an airplane! A used Mooney. A hangar queen. It had 700 hours; it was seven years old. I bought all that trouble and glory. My own flying machine. After having the airplane crazies since I was a kid and renting airplanes for 20 years thinking I couldn’t own one, my Diane cut me loose for it.

“Go on, it’s only money. You’re 50 years old and you got about 20 good, juicy summers left. When they pat you in the face with that shovel, you can’t come back and wish you’d bought an airplane. Airplanes have always been so much of your life. Go on, enjoy, enjoy!”

And so, with help from the Internet, I retrieved this article from Flying magazine, and read again one of Gordon Baxter’s most inspiring articles: the purchase of his beloved Mooney Ranger. I first read this story in 1976 and the memory of it has been with me for many, many years. Even though I am the owner of a Piper Archer, I have always had a thing for Mooneys and the people who build them.

Life sometimes takes you to places you never expect to be, and I recently found myself in Bandera, riding a horse at the Mayan Dude Ranch as part of a family visit to San Antonio. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was only 25 miles from Kerrville, Texas, the home of Mooney, and so many stories.

A distinctive design – and company.

I was given a hall pass the next day, drove to Kerrville, and turned on to Al Mooney Road. I parked myself in front of the guard shack with the intent of visiting the place. I was greeted warmly by Mike, the security guard, and told him that I wanted to learn more about the people of Mooney, and would attempt to write a story about the Mooney family. He appreciated my efforts, but told me that tours were not available during the time of my visit. He was gracious enough to provide the business card of their employee relations manager, Devan Burns, gave me a 70-year Mooney Anniversary Sticker, and encouraged me to visit next time I was in the area. Mike is a class act!

Anytime I see a quality product or company that has been around for a long time, I know there are quality people that make it happen. Usually these folks have persevered through tough times, supported each other, and dedicate themselves to producing the best quality product or service year after year. I was convinced the reason Mooney is still around would be the people, and I wanted to see this for myself. Yes, it’s a powerful airplane, but powerful people had to be the reason they’ve survived, I hoped.

I left Mooney that first day knowing that I had tried, but realistically knowing that last-minute requests have little chance of success. Before I left the parking lot, however, I wrote a note on my iPad to Devan, asking if I might be able to come back the next day and interview a few of the Mooney people who make it happen. I never expected a reply. After all, it was late Thursday afternoon and we were leaving Saturday morning. Quite frankly, I felt a bit foolish even asking.

So, I was very surprised to receive a response on Friday morning saying if I could be in Kerrville by 1:30 pm on Friday, Devan would arrange for a tour of the plant, followed by a visit with her before I left. I couldn’t believe it, and was granted another hall pass by “you know who” to make the trip.

So, please bear with me as I tell you about the fascinating people I met on a Friday afternoon in February at the Mooney plant.

Larry “The Rain Man” Jacoby was my host for the day. Larry was first employed by Mooney in 1978 at the height of the 201 production. He is known as “The Rain Man” because of his extraordinary recall of part numbers and their locations in the plant, where he now works in receiving. He has been employed four different times by Mooney, and continues to be a dedicated employee.

The first stop on my Mooney adventure was the completion center, where a beautiful Acclaim Ultra was receiving the finishing touches before delivery to a customer. New airplanes make for pretty pictures, but seeing a brand new one in person is a totally different experience. The beautiful color scheme, the smell of a fresh leather interior, plus the feeling of extreme speed, are unmistakable. I know that, as pilots, we look at performance specifications, mission profiles, etc. when we make airplane decisions, but I’m convinced that pure emotion has a great deal to do with it.

The next stop was the welding shop. Next time you look in the engine compartment of most Mooneys, think of Rick Heimann. Rick has worked for Mooney for 41 years, and welds the steel engine supports along with his partner, Earl Sevey, who has been with Mooney twice, the first time for four years, and the second time for seven. These folks just don’t give up. Rick has worked on the early C and E Model Mooneys, and was welding the engine support for a new Acclaim while I was there. It was the beginning of a fascinating day.

Many employees at Mooney have been with the company for decades.

Mooney makes nearly everything on site. My next stop was the machine shop and hammer house, where metal is molded into airplane parts by huge hydraulic presses that tower above. I met Sonny Hutchinson, who took me through the formation of the wing primary skins. Think of Sonny and his crew next time you see the flush-riveted leading edge of a new Mooney Ovation. I saw complete wing spars, wing ribs, and bulkheads, all freshly manufactured.

The new Mooney management has invested heavily in modern equipment. In the lay-up room, I met Mike Feller, Debbie Weise, and Julie Meador. Although Mike has been with Mooney over 40 years, he and his team adapted to a new vacuum-assisted digital lay-up process for composite parts that eliminated hand shears that have been used for years for laying up fiberglass parts. Debbie’s daughter, Shana, works for Mooney as well. So many families had their start at Mooney: Husbands and wives first met and went on to have families who all have worked for Mooney. It is a family experience here.

In the shear room, I saw how dedicated Mooney is to continuing their commitment to strong airframes made of metal. Their new Flow ultra-high pressure cutting machine uses 53,000 lbs. of water pressure to cut digitally guided designs in thick metal parts, without burrs and additional finishing. Larry Jacoby started in this room in 1978, when the 201s were first being built.

The wing makes a Mooney special, and seeing the entire one-piece wing on a jig in the sub-assembly room was something to behold. I thought I was watching a fighter being built. Next time you see a photo of a new Mooney, think of Clifton Leda and his team, who sealed the fuel tanks and assembled the interior of the wing. The care being taken to make this airplane first class is extraordinary.

I had a special introduction to Lucy Hernandez and Nora Havran in the upholstery shop, who make the custom upholstery for the sturdy seats now found in the new Ovation and Acclaim. They are extraordinary people who take extraordinary care installing customer-chosen leather on sturdy seat frames made totally in-house at Mooney.

My final stop was seeing a new Continental engine being mounted on an Acclaim going to a lucky buyer.

One can’t help noticing the second door that is part of every Mooney now being manufactured. I wonder what Gordon Baxter would have thought of the second door on a new Mooney. Would he buy a new one? I’d expect he’d probably hang on to his old Ranger.

I remember the picture showing 30 workers standing on the wing of a Mooney. Will any of the readers remember their names?

Yes, the wing is strong, but the people who make them are extraordinary. I feel so fortunate that I had a chance to meet them.

Whatever airplane you choose to buy, I’d recommend that you meet the people who build them. It would be good to know that they have your back when flying at 20,000 ft.

Excuse me, I meant to say 25,000 feet, if you’re flying a Mooney Acclaim Ultra!

The post Visiting the Mooney family appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/05/visiting-the-mooney-family/

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