#aria’s yapping again

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

mickey milkovich x nude, radiohead

i don’t think that anybody can disagree that 1x07 is the episode where we learn the most about mickey milkovich. no, i don’t mean he showed any development or anything like that, but we learned something about him that made him significant for the rest of the show. something that never leaves, something that is important to him. in 1x07, we learn that mickey milkovich is gay, and we learn that he is willing to sleep with ian gallagher (even when his father and sister are in the house).

in 1x06, mickey kind of has an interaction with ian that we later see and are like, “yeah, he’s totally gay”, but back then it wasn’t stated that mickey was gay. mickey steals shit from the kash and grab, and he tells ian, “you know where i live if you have a problem” kind of instigating that ian should come over.

but in 1x07, mickey has stolen the gun from the kash and grab, and ian goes to mickey’s house equipped with a tyre iron, ready to take it back.

the “i want the gun back, mickey” scene needs no introduction or explanation. we all know what happened. we all watched in awe as mickey stood over ian and both of their breaths evened out and they made contact and… bam! they’re getting undressed, just like that.

later on, we are no stranger to gallavich and fighting then fucking. it’s something many people know them for, the fact that they’ll literally beat the shit out of each other and then immediately get on each other. but here, it was supposed to be for shock value because shameless utilizes shock value. to those who didn’t know gallavich was going to happen, watching mickey, the thug who had literally just attempted murder on ian, undress and fuck ian was surprising. later on, we can understand why it happened, but we were supposed to be shocked.

so, here’s where nude by radiohead comes in.

terry wakes up from a nap and goes to take a piss in mickey’s room (there’s a bathroom in there, he isn’t just pissing in it, lol). in there, ian and mickey are naked under mickey’s covers. around them, we see a poster of a woman and we also see a drawing mickey made that says “fuck love”.

so when terry comes out of the bathroom and looks at them both, he doesn’t do what season 3 terry does, he simply says “put some clothes on, you two look like a couple of fags!” and it’s a comical scene because, what the fuck, terry, aren’t you a homophobic murderer? you woke up to grunts and crashes coming from mickey’s room, then when you came in he and another boy are naked in his bed… what do you think they were doing?

so when mickey does put some clothes on, he puts on a radiohead shirt.

the shirt says “you’ll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking” and those are the last lyrics of the radiohead song “nude”.

so for those who haven’t listened to the song, here’s my analysis of why this song is associated with mickey milkovich and how it ends up foreshadowing his entire character for the next four seasons.

“don’t get any big ideas

they’re not gonna happen”

literally this scene. mickey caves and gives ian the gun back because lets be honest, it was really just bait. ian leans in to kiss him, and mickey has a look in his eyes where you can tell he wants to, but he can’t. he built this wall up years ago and he’s already cursing himself for letting it come down. terry instructed him to get dressed, and he puts on this shirt. and he’s trying to put this carefully constructed mask back on but he’s struggling. and so, he pushes ian away, “kiss me and i’ll cut your fucking tounge out”. there’s no malice in his tone, it’s a threat, but it isn’t threatening.

“you paint yourself white

and fill up with noise

but there'll be something missing”

mickey hiding in the closet, marrying svetlana, being a father to yevgeny, trying to act like the perfect son of terry. he still has this mask on and he tries to hide who he is but alas, he can’t. he loves ian too much and when he gets married and pushes him away, he’s still gay and in love.

“now that you found it

it’s gone”

upon being married, he tells ian that they can still bang. maybe being married to a woman makes him feel a bit more secure because although he despises it and it’s crushing him, he can keep his whole “king of the southside” thing. now that he’s married and unhappy, terry’s satisfied, and that’s all that matters- well, at one point it was. so he tells ian that they can still fuck, but suddenly, ian isn’t as eager and easy as he once was, and he leaves. he’s gone.

“now that you feel it

you don't

you’ve gone off the rails”

he’s out, he’s with ian, he has ian. things are supposed to be fine- but they’re not. ian’s unstable and has been hospitalized, and mickey breaks. he gets shitfaced and cuts his cheek and cries into ian’s jacket. that wall he once built up? the chest he puffed up, the posters he hung, the tattoos he got, they all mean nothing. it’s all gone. the wall and mask are gone, he’s more fragile than he once was. ian’s broken and it’s simultaneously breaking him too.

“so don't get any big ideas

they're not gonna happen”

this line is so mickey in s5, s6, s7, and s10. ian calling him and mickey running to see ian. he has hope. but no, ian breaks up with him, mickey is arrested, and when ian visits he desperately wants ian back. he tattoos ian’s name on his chest, specifically over his heart, and he practically pleads for ian to stay. then, mickey and ian are fleeing to mexico, and for a second, he has hope again. he fantasizes about he and ian at the beach, ian’s freckled skin being sunburnt, them swimming in the ocean together. for once, he can imagine his dreams being true. but they aren’t. he and ian are getting their marriage license, but ian’s hand wavers over the dotted line and he gives mickey that look and mickey breaks (…ian’s leg. lol). he keeps getting his hopes up and everytime he scolds himself for it because he just ends up hopeless.

then finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,

“you'll go to hell

for what your dirty mind

is thinking”

it’s in the 1x07 scene i’m talking about. terry instructs mickey to get dressed, he does, and he puts on a shirt that says this. and in that shirt, he seems odd. the confidence we see him have in 1x03 is no longer there. he doesn’t necessarily look vulnerable, but he isn’t the mickey he pretends to be. he caves and returns the gun, which was just bait for ian to come anyway, and he refuses to make eye contact with ian, but when he does, it’s almost coy? he’s ashamed. he’s thinking of things he know would get him killed and he hates himself for it. terry will end him if he finds out, and yes, he has the posters, the reputation, the persona, the tattoos, the guns, etc. but in the end, it’s all an act, and we can see it. the way he licks his lips, the way his eyes won’t focus, his body language says so much.

[lovezbrownies]

Silent treatment. (Yandere!Queen x GN!Reader)

Masterlist.

Synopsis: Your wife won't listen to you, so you take matters into your own hands and fail miserably.

Queen Nia x reader

Word count: 545

Warnings: Stockhold syndrome, no boundaries, not listening?, cute overall.

“Your majesty, ple-” A sharp gasp came out of the woman in front of you, her hand on her chest and a horrified look on her face. “Majesty?!? Are we not married?! My heart, ah!! Maid! Get me a doctor!” Nia goes on with her dramatics once again. And you were exhausted, you could barely have a serious conversation with her, a few months into your marriage with the Queen of Xelera and you couldn’t do it anymore.

So far, you’ve accepted your fate. There is no point in escaping, she is the queen she will go to extreme lengths to get you back! So when you finally resigned to your fate and tried to have some serious discussions with Nia about boundaries and the terms of your marriage she would always find a way to change the topic, or brush your concerns off.

By now you’ve decided that the only way Nia would ever listen to you is by not talking to her. You’ve made up your mind! For however long it will take you, you refused to speak to her, to even utter a single meep, you even started to pretend like you were too busy to spend time with her at times. And it ruined Nia, she would beg and beg for even a tiny hum! Usually you would contribute to whatever thought she would blurt out but even when she mentioned your favorite topic you would not budge!

That led to today, where you and your wife sat at one of the vast gardens in Khas.  picnic blanket under you and pastries and tea in front of you. You sat straight, criss-cross applesauce style. While Nia was lying flat on her stomach, her head held by her hands. “Why are you ignoring meee?” Nia whined, looking up at her stunning lover, wondering what she’s done wrong. Nia tried her best to provide you with the most expensive of jewelry, clothing, supplies for your hobbies, and refused to do any work until you speak to her. Not like that changed anything because she’d only sign less than 5 documents in a good month.

Strange sight to see the Queen pleading and begging her spouse to speak with her. “Please… I’m sorry… Please talk to me, tell me what I did, I want to apologize, please, please, please-” And she goes on and on. Over the weeks of your silence you’ve gotten used to it, but even if you hated to admit it you missed yapping away with her. So you turned to her, your eyes locked, and she bounced up, sitting straight, Nia grabbed your hands. “Yes!! Say something! PLEASE!”

You inhaled, closing your eyes, you finally decided to say something. “I wa-” Only for- “Oh my goodness, thank heavens you spoke! I’ve missed your voice so much! Okay now did you know what Lady Aria said to me the other day? And you better respond to me!” There really was no way to win. You just had to deal with her nonsense and slowly lead her to understand your boundaries physically somehow.

Sigh. “Yes, dear, what did she say?” Nia squealed and laid her head on your lap, forcing you to massage her scalp as she went on with her stories.

[aquagirl1978]

Opposites Attract - Silvio Ricci x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of the One Week Challenge hosted by @cy-inky

Pairing: Silvio Ricci x Reader

Prompt: "Are you an idiot? I am not leaving you here." + opposites attract / academic rivals

Word Count: 500

Tags: none (minimal swearing language used)

“Hey,” you whisper-screamed, staring down at Silvio’s slumped over body. If you didn’t already find him to be the most obnoxious student at school, you might have thought he was handsome. 

You had considered not waking him up when you first spotted him sleeping in the library, but your conscience got the best of you. While class would have been quieter without him there, a part of you felt wrong leaving him there, sleeping.

“Hey,” you repeated, keeping your voice low as you shook his arm. “Ah, fuck,” you whispered when his jewelry jangled from your shaking. Removing your hand from his shoulder, you tried whispering again. “Hey, it’s almost 9. We have class soon.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled.

“Good morning to you, too,” you replied through gritted teeth, your right wrist clasped in your left hand, preventing you from swatting this jerk. Why exactly were you doing this again?

“Just leave me here.”

“Are you an idiot? I am not leaving you here.” Sighing loudly, you pulled the book he was resting on out from under his head. “Finals are in a week…every class matters.”

Rubbing his head, he looked up at you, his blue eyes dark and narrowed. “Coffee. Now.”

Smirking, you waited for him to stand up before leaving the library, Silvio quickly following along behind you.

“Really. Starbucks?” he groaned as you stopped in front of the cafe. 

“It’s the closest coffee on campus.” You looked him over – in his designer jeans and flashy jewelry, you’d have thought Starbucks ran in his veins. “Not good enough for you?”

“No,” he replied with a huff. “The best is at Amore. More expensive doesn’t always mean better,” he added with a wink.

He stepped towards the entryway and lifted his leg like he was going to kick the door down. But, his jaw dropped and his leg fell when the automatic doors opened upon his approach.

“That was disappointing,” he said quietly, while you covered your mouth, muffling your laughter.

“That’s Silvio. S - I - L -…. Ah, it don’t matter, gonna spell it wrong anyways,” he grumbled, stepping to the side, joining you, to wait for your drinks.

“You were in the library early.”

“My roommate, he’s a yappy dog. Keeps me up at all hours. Wakes me up early too, with his incessant yapping.”

“What kind of dog do you have?”

“He’s not an actual dog,” Silvio sneered. “An actual dog would be a preferable roommate.” It was unexplainable, but you felt your body warm as you chatted with Silvio.

“Why’d ya wake me? Me and you, we’re top of the class. Competition. Shoulda just left me there.”

“Wouldn’t have been fair.” 

Before Silvio could reply, the barista handed you your drinks.

“Vito?!!!” Silvio yelled. “I don’t look like a Vito, do I?” he asked, leaning closer to yours. Shaking your head elicited a smile from Silvio. 

“We got a few minutes before class, don’t we?”

It was your turn to smile as you nodded at Silvio.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381

[travelingparties]

11 Grasping

Prev | Next

*(Solo TTRPG Journaling based on Wanderhome by @jdragsky)*

*text under readmore in case you can't read my tiny handwriting*

Today, the girl and I set out on our journey. I woke her up before sunrise, to make our escape before the city became full of life. Too many dangers.

She’s afraid, I can tell.

I found an old map among my things to take with us, it should prove useful. If I’m correct, it’ll take us a little less than a day to make it to the next town over, where we can stop for the night. I’ve also broken into my savings jar in order to hire a local peddler to act as a caravan, at least for now. It’s easier than traveling on foot. I fear, though, that I may need to find odd jobs to do in each city we stay in, in order to keep paying for his services.

His name is Tiberius and, while I do not consider myself a cruel sort, he is particularly ugly, inside and out. Most peddlers tend to be; obsessed with their wares and their coin and their numbers. He is a unique sort, though. One of those cats with no fur, who has to overcompensate by wearing pounds of bumble wool. The girl keeps asking him where his fur went.

I am urging her to stay silent, but it is difficult with Tiberius around. He refuses to cease his endless yapping. He asks about me, and her, and where her parents are, and why we hired him, and for how long… I have half a mind to steal his beetle myself and kick him out of the caravan, but I remain silently seething.

If there is one piece of good to come out of his inability to not speak, it’s that song he keeps humming. The girl seemed fascinated by it, tapping her fingers to the beat. When he noticed, he asked her if she would like to learn it and she said yes. It’s an old aria, he explained, from his ancestors, passed down through generations. I think that sounds like a load of hogwash, peddlers have a tendency to make nice lies, but the girl loved the story and the song. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since I met her.

I decided to start calling her Aria. Maybe, if she can smile along and believe in Tiberius, perhaps I should start trying to believe in her as well.

I always did want to name my daughter Aria, but the chance always passed me by.

We’ve arrived in town, now. And we’ll be staying here for two days before taking off again. I have the money for two nights in the inn, but I’ll need to find work in order to pay Tiberius for passage to the next town. Though, if I can find my own wagon, I might not mind leaving him behind.

It’s been a long time since I stepped foot into this town. I attended university here, once, when I was still young and hopeful. Perhaps it’s the one thing that saved me from Her wrath all those years ago. I wonder if any of my old mentors are still here. It would be nice to see at least one familiar face.

Finding work was difficult. The markets are always full of vendors, but none willing to hire for a day's work. Aria seems overwhelmed by the noise. I nearly had a heart attack when I realized she had run off somewhere. Tiberius found her by a pen of rather impressive bumbles for sale, petting them gently. I had to apologize to the owner. I don’t know how to punish a child that could kill me.

The local shrine was a bust as well. Aria found old food offerings, ones that had already gone bad, and couldn’t help herself. I snapped at her and now I feel guilty. Does she even know who she is? Do I?

I’ll buy her a nice meal tonight to apologize, but I worry our funds are dwindling. We’ve barely even started our journey and it could be over by tomorrow night. Tiberius finally took pity and offered me a job. A small delivery job to the university. The teachers there purchase a fresh order of textbooks every semester. He said he’d give us free passage to the next town if we delivered them for him tomorrow.

I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to keep this up, but I’m going to keep up my optimism and hope that we’ll make it through.

[vind3miat0r]

A Deal With Fallen Gods Spoilers

this time comprised in my notes app

ea got dropped at like,, 11 PM last night, and the video JUST got released, and ive only just now processed what the fuck was said. here are my incoherent thoughts :3

first of all, I CANT HEAR WITHOUT MY SUBTITLES 😭😭😭 ERIK PLEASE WHAT IS D'DERIDAHN SAYING WHAT IS BRO YAPPING ABOUT ‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥

now talking abt D'Deridahn and Blake; i know that D'Deridahn said that he's gonna use Blake's body as a vessel, and im sure everyone's immediately jumping to the conclusion that: Blake + D'Deridahn = Hush. BUT, we have to keep in mind that Mr Redacted has a penchant for pulling "haha gotcha!" every other lore drop. so.

plus, Hush already said that hes the silence in the spellsong. he already explained to Doc what he is. now, granted, maybe Blake/D'Deridahn's memories get fucked up when they get back to Elegy, but its highly unlikely that Hush is the product of Blake and D'Deridahn.

ive seen some people theorizing that Blake + D'Deridahn = Hush's brother? i like this theory, as in some places it makes sense, especially if youre coming from the "E'Laetum and Min'Ara made Hush" theory. two Sovereigns' creations conflicting bc their respective Sovereigns have different goals? plausible, if we're also coming from the "Hush wants to drag the Sovereigns back into Aria/The Meridian", since he did say he was going to free the Sovereigns, but he never got too specific about what happens afterwards. its a bit of a reach, but again, plausible

immediate questions are: what the hell is D'Deridahn planning to do once he gets to Elegy? im assuming that he wants to find a way to free the other Sovereigns, obviously excluding putting them in the Meridian or back in Aria. im sure that some sort of hint was dropped, but i just had a nap so good that i felt like i died when i woke up, so im running on sleepy brain.

what i find interesting, though, is that D'Deridahn is Vega's Sovereign, the one he's bound to. Vega says so in "Learning a Sadism Demon's Past", im pretty sure. if we're coming from the "Blake + D'Deridahn = Hush" theory, then perhaps that would explain why Hush felt like he knew Vega: because he (D'Deridahn) had created Vega all those years ago.

so, what did we learn from this sleepy ramble?

Blake being Hush seems a bit more likely, but we have to take it with a grain of salt, since Erik loves pulling the rug out from under our feet

until then, i have no further commentary :)

[houseofwisteria]

"You are going to be the death of me, Dean." She huffed, as they got out of the car. The kool aid man? Really? Violet did feel bad for Sam. Aria was a lot more chill than they were and she was not here at the moment. "Why don't you text Aria, Sam? I bet she'd love to get a text."

Dean laughs and gets out clicking his heels together like a joyful leprechaun. Sam holds the door open laughing softly at Dean even if he was mad at him his excitement is so pure then she brings up aria again and he blushes faintly. " I might... After we eat just to say good morning or -- "

" I miss you? I love you? Can't stop thinkin aboooout you ? " Dean cuts him off and laughs stepping inside and Sam shoved him. " Shut up man ! You just find us a booth. " Dean yaps with his hands and then slides into a booth near the corner and pats the spot next to him for vi. " C'mere. What's everybody getting ? Besides the best pancakes on the planet. "

" uh... " Sam thinks

[luthienne]

Hello! I saw that you’ve posted about your experiences as a musician which is honestly so helpful as someone just starting out. I’m dropping out of my current program and heading to a new school next fall to start a vocal performance undergrad. Do you have any tips? I feel like I should be doing something to prepare, but I have no idea what 😅

hi ♡ ok since i don’t know what level you’re at in your musical skills, i’ll start with the basics: i’m guessing you’re already familiar with your key signatures and time signatures? otherwise i would suggest memorizing those and getting really comfortable with them; constantly practice your sight reading (giving equal attention to the rhythmic values of the notes as much as the tonal values... singers tend to be known for their weak rhythmic skills... it’s not a great reputation to have and it makes collaboration with other musicians frustrating). sight reading is probably the most important tool a singer can have. if you have access to a piano or keyboard, definitely also work on your sight-playing, and get your hands on some hanon and czerny exercises to practice, some clementi sonatinas, some bach inventions, the 24 italian songs and arias, and whatever music you enjoy that’ll keep you at the piano. study solfeggio! if you’re in the u.s., you’ll likely be working with movable do. you’ll probably be expected to sight-read on solfeggio. once you memorize intervalic leaps, your sight reading will get so much easier! at the end of every semester, we have juries where we’re expected to bring all the music we’ve studied that semester and perform whatever pieces the panel of professors choose, then sight-sing some music.

start learning your operatic languages. the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. the next best time is now. study italian, french, german. the more fluency you have, the easier your life will be later and the more opportunities will open up for you. i cannot overstate how important it is. i never gained fluency in german but i did gain fluency in french and italian and my life was !! so much easier !! when you are inevitably asked to translate what you’re singing, you 1) won’t have to admit you that didn’t do the translation, 2) won’t risk forgetting the translation and, most importantly, 3) you’ll be able to express yourself fully in the language! the audience can tell when singers understand what they’re singing because the content matters! it’s not just about beautiful singing! it’s about telling a story. starting at one place emotionally, ending somewhere else, and taking the audience with you for every step.

be prepared to advocate for yourself and your voice. no one else can tell if something in your voice feels wrong; you’ll need to be able to verbalize what you are feeling and learn how to say no to music when it doesn’t feel right in your voice. you’ll also need to be prepared to advocate for yourself, personally. it’s not a kind industry. while you may find an amazing voice teacher who will advocate for you, it’s more likely that it’s a skill you’ll have to cultivate. 

the industry is rapidly changing here in the u.s.—if you can avoid taking any student loans, i would encourage you to do so. my student loans have made it nearly impossible to pursue a career in opera. the amount of money that it takes for auditions, travel fees, yap (young artist program) fees, wardrobe costs, pianist fees, voice lessons, voice coachings, rehearsal fees, etc. can become prohibitive. yap wages tend not to be living wages. the more money you can save now, the better. if you can cultivate a second skill, do it! for example: programming is a great skill to have because you can work remotely creating websites and be paid a living wage. be prepared to get a day job and feel no shame about it!! i read an article recently about the percentage of opera singers who are constantly working in opera (no need to do other work) and it was below 20%. 

remember that while the environment and the career is competitive af, you do not need to put yourself in competition with other singers. every single person has something special! and work ethic wins out over talent every day of the week. cultivate the gifts that make you and your voice uniquely you and try not to compare yourself to your colleagues. learn from them, admire them, uplift them. don’t fall into the trap of comparisons or petty judgments. the singers who love to judge other singers are not good singers to be around. practicing kindness is so incredibly important. classical music is a small world.

again, not comprehensive but hopefully it helps a little? i would also suggest taking a look through the music study tag and opera tag if you want to read more about my not-so-great experiences in classical music that i wish i’d been prepared for, and its structural issues and systemic barriers.

[alloftimeandspacetosee]

Pokemon get; Aria

So the original like... main Plot Filled Story Doc for Jay is written in journal entries bc I wanted to try something new with it all, which mean like a lot of this stuff is just glossed over? So I wrote up all the pokemon she receives as separate things (I also did the gym battles, but a lot of them get samey so I’m not putting most of them up (I also only ever actually finished the Sinnoh league)).

 This one’s still ok to put up haha

 pls forgive my French! I was relying heavily on google translate.

~

We stand in the atrium of the professor’s building, waiting. His assistant has informed us that he will be with us shortly, but… that was a while back. Even Birch wasn’t this lax about timing, and I expected it of him.

“I’d ask if you want to go wait in a cafe, but I’m going to need you to translate,” I say to Jayden, who laughs.

“I’m fine waiting.” He smiles.

“Some of us don’t seem to be,” Brith mutters, then barks.

I turn to see Soise, caught mid illusion over the desk of a shivering intern. “Soise.”

She laughs and jumps away, shades of possessed ghosts falling from existence after her.

Vulp, at my feet, yaps something at her, to which Soise replies in kind. Vulp bounces forward, ducking down on her forelegs as if begging. Soise tumbles her over and they go racing around the room.

Sesser cheeps and huddles into my neck, keeping out of view as best she can. Between her and Vulp with her nine tails, we’ve caused quite a stir. Soise is hardly helping, her illusions breaking the way in rarer and rarer pokemon. But at least her… latias child had the sense to stay behind, on the ship. I think, anyway. Who knows what Soise’s hiding.

I’d return her, but she seems to like being out all the time.

“Mes excuses, mes amis!” The door slams open behind us.

We turn to see a man in a lab coat with the sleeves rolled up enter the building. This is presumably the professor. I raise an eyebrow at his assistant, who had informed us that he was upstairs engaged in important work.

She had the decency to duck her head, looking intensely busy.

“Hi.” I stepped forward. “I was hoping to register for the league challenge.”

“Ma beauté, anything for you.” He takes my proffered hand and dips over it, kissing the back.

Holy shit. Again with these guys.

I try not to roll my eyes too much.

“Come, come!” He beckons us to follow. “This way, to my office.”

I exchange a glance with Jayden and we follow him. Brith barks at Soise and Vulp once more, and they run to my side, scrabbling at the stairs. Brith grabs up Vulp and leaves Soise to fend for herself.

I almost turn back for her, but actually she seems to be handling them fairly well, so I let her be.

Brith glances back at her, smirking, and I can’t help but feel like they’re definitely hiding something. Maybe Lairisse, maybe something else. Who knows!

“So, you wish to challenge?” The professor turns as we reach his office, leaning back against the desk. “The two of you or…?”

“Just me.” I hold out my trainer card.

He reaches to take it and leans back on his desk, reaching for the card reader there. “And you’ll take a starter, of course.”

“What? I – no.” I shake my head. “I don’t need any more pokemon.” Far more than enough, really.

“Are you sure?”

Soise paws at my leg, whining.

I glance across at Brith.

“She’s pointing out you haven’t trained anyone new in a while,” Brith replies.

Sycamore blinks and stares at her, fingers tapping at the machine in his hand.

“So? I’m fine with everyone I’ve got.”

“They are all very powerful pokemon,” Jayden says.

I tilt my head, looking at him.

He gestures at the card reader. “It’s supposed to be a challenge, right? If your pokemon are all as powerful as yours are, then… there isn’t much challenge.”

I shrug. “I just ask them to use stronger teams.”

“Oh, I see, you have many badges!” Sycamore exclaims. “What is that, four… five leagues?”

“Six,” I correct. “I did the Orange Archipelago challenge as well.”

“I… actually agree with Soise, here,” Brith says. “You should take another pokemon on.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “What’s the starter choice here?”

Sycamore brightens and places the card reader – still with my card in it – back on his desk as he stands, striding across to a glass fronted cabinet to take out a display case of three pokeballs. “Fire, water and grass, of course. Feunnec, which becomes the fire/psychic type goupelin.” He taps the first of them. “Grenousse, which becomes the water/dark type amphinobi.” The second one. “And Marisson, which becomes the grass/fighting type blindépique.”

I consider the choices. I don’t have any grass types at all, but then most of my team is fire-based so I can’t imagine it’d fit in too well. That cut out Marisson… even if training a type I was unfamiliar with would be interesting.

The water type would be interesting. “Can you tell me more about the… grenousse?”

Soise flattens her ears and hisses. Apparently she doesn’t like that prospect.

Sycamore smiles. “They are fast, good at speed and dodging and sneaky attacks. Not so much on defence, I think?”

I nod. Fast and sneaky would be an interesting change, since currently… ok, I dealt in quick attacks and evasion and occasionally stalling. A grenousse would actually fit in with that.

And it wasn’t like I couldn’t cancel out any weaknesses already. Glace could use someone in her corner for the ground types.

Which I could say of the Marisson, for helping Ray with water types.

Ugh.

“Why are you making me take this decision?” I narrow my eyes at Brith.

She laughs. “Because it would be good for you.”

Sycamore glances at her again and sets down the tray on his desk. “Sorry, you are not… you are a pokemon?”

Brith nods. “I spent a long time listening, and then forced my vocal chords to cooperate when I evolved.” She flicks an ear. “That’s what you were going to ask? How I can speak?”

Huh. The more you know.

Sycamore walks towards her, gesturing with his hands.

Brith rolls her eyes and tilts her head up, allowing him to examine her throat. Faint burn scars still gleam through her fur, but they’re not half as bad as when she was a riolu.

Soise growls and leaps up onto the desk – she’s definitely hiding something, there’s no way she should be able to make that jump – and pats at the first pokeball, the feunnec. Then she points a paw down at Vulp, sitting quiet at my feet.

“What?”

“The – ah, the feunnec is something like your vulpix,” Sycamore says, looking around. “Perhaps she thinks they will be good friends?”

“But that’s another fire type.” I frown.

Brith shakes her head and backs away from Sycamore. “That does seem to be your area, fire types.”

“So I might as well specialise?” I laugh. “Oh… good a reason as any. I’ll take the feunnec.”

Soise leaps down from the desk with an excited yip, bowling Vulp over.

Sycamore takes up the card reader again and the feunnec’s pokeball, and registers it to my account. “There you go.” He hands them both over with a smile. “The first gym is south, in Santalune.”

“Is there a specific order to take them in?” I pocket my card, rolling the ball in my hand.

“Santalune, Cyllage, Shalour, Coumarine, Lumiose, Laverre, Anistar, then Snowbelle.”

I nod slowly. “Thank you.”

Sycamore smiles and bows extravagantly. “Mon plaisir,” he replies, “Ma beauté.”

I raise a hand, then point a finger at him. “Don’t start.”

His laughter follows us from his office.

[greatneedtotakeanap]

i binge read

episode 9 - the house of hades

i don’t care what anybody says, hazel levesque was the main character in this book.

of course, all of the seven are the main characters, and all of them underwent a life changing journey in this book - Percy and Annabeth in Tartarus of course, Frank in Venice with all of the katoblepones and again in the House of Hades summoning the dead, Jason with his whole Cupid-Nico escapade, Leo meeting Calypso, and Piper fighting Khione. But Hazel’s journey was the most central to the plot. She actively chose the crossroads that would lead to the events of the whole book - Leo falling, Percy and Annabeth unconscious in front of the Doors, Frank wounded. Those were all events that she chose and events that came to pass. She, personally, led to pretty much everything that happened. She’s the most powerful of the seven imo, with all of the Mist manipulation and gem summoning - she easily possesses the most raw power.

Anyways. I’d have to talk about all of the Seven individually for this post to work. We’ve already covered Hazel so let’s start with Jason, because nobody ever does. I really wish this guy had more character, even just in his own chapters. I understand that he’s hella blunt and how helpful that is, and most of the time I appreciate it. But his main conflict in this book was belonging, in the Greek versus the Roman camps (which is something that Nico was also struggling with in a different way). I wish he’d explored that, the blending of Greek and Roman, within himself more. I think it’s a very important plot point that I as a biracial kid can relate to specifically - the feeling of coming from two different places, loving two different cultures, wondering to which you truly belong.

Next, Piper. We really didn’t see as much as I’d like to see of her in this book. She kind of just popped up whenever anybody needed a charmspeaking side character. Her big climax moment was fighting Khione, which was a pretty cool scene I must admit. I admired not only her quick thinking but her ability to accept that she was unable to think like Annabeth and her willingness to embrace her own way of thinking. That’s something that I don’t see as much as I’d like. Also I loved the little detail of her swordfighting lessons with Hazel. The girl power and camaraderie was strong and I appreciated that. It almost seems to me like she’s learning that she is like other girls--the narrative in her chapters was very different from in TLT.

Leo. If nobody ever shut me up, I could talk for days about Leo Valdez. Admittedly he pissed me off a bit sometimes - sometimes his jokes took things too far, especially when he picked on Frank. But this fifteen year old child built a HELICOPTER in MIDAIR. He just makes it so hard not to love him. The high point for him this book was, obviously, when he crashlanded on Calypso’s island. It was one of my favorite parts of the book, too, partially because it was one of those scenes I could just see in my head, every second. It made a pretty beautiful picture too. You could see both of them slowly falling in love - Jason says later that he was only in exile for five days, but Leo, on Ogygia, clearly experienced at least two weeks - one of them building a looking glass, the other building a boat with Calypso. It was interesting to see, through the other people’s eyes, how it changed him. And how he refused to talk about it. I love how his instinct, whenever he sees Gaea, is to just chuck the nearest object at her. In TLT, he sees her in face in the porta-potty sludge, and he chucks a toilet seat at her. In Calypso’s island, when she reappears, he just throws a pair of pliers at her. It’s just so hilarious to imagine--see Gaea, throw object. I have never felt prouder of him than I did when he chucked that screwdriver from across the room to press the button to let Percy and Annabeth out of that elevator. It was just a cinematic move.

Frank!! If Hazel wasn’t the main character, it definitely would have been him. His journey in this book was also quite cinematic. It was amazing to see how he’d changed, growing into his identity as a child of Mars. There were so many times I loved him so much--destroying every katobleps in venice, leading the team through the House of Hades. All while the two different sides of his dad were yapping away in his head. Takes some serious steel. I just feel like everyone always underestimates Frank Zhang. This dude, despite being the biggest pacifist of the Seven (besides possibly Piper), is just so freaking metal. I’m so incredibly proud of him and of his journey.

I intentionally left Percy and Annabeth for last because it’s gonna be hard to explain. Because I’d have to group them together mostly. I loved the way they were always working for each other, always looking out for each other. They saved each other’s lives dozens of times over. I know I’ve said it a thousand times but that’s my favorite thing about Percabeth. They’re best friends above all. From the very beginning, with the river, to Arachne, to the aria curses and so much more - they always, always had each other’s backs. I loved Bob the titan immediately. I can’t say I remember him, like, at all--despite the binge reading I did, I literally cannot remember Iapetus. Which book was he in? I’m assuming The Last Olympian. I knew Small Bob would be important in the end, and I knew the giant would come back - though it was quite sad, the ending. Especially Percy at the end telling Zoe that bob says hello. A lot of the scenes in Tartarus were difficult to imagine, though some were easier - for example, the defeat of Misery. I cheered when Percy took her down, I immediately hated her. Other Tartarus escapades were sad and painful, but I’m glad they got out.

Fourteen days until Gaea awakens and two demigods’ blood will water her soil. Tower of Nero is released today. I was hoping to finish all three series, short of the final book, by Friday. Can our heroes battle Gaea, fix things with the Romans, and save the world? Can I read the Blood of Olympus and the entirety of the Trials of Apollo within three and a half days? Probably not. Stay tuned for more.

[sofiasingingpractice]

PG. (45)

1 chapter (15)

Observe video 😍

Meditation ♥️

Journaling (30)

Reflect in the why it’s difficult to stick to the plan: I get lost because it takes me a while to kick start my Day and sometimes I start my day at 11 when it could start at 9. Solution - really aim to go to sleep earlier 12.00 max and wake up at 8 straight away. Put the alarm away from you. You then do your routine: face, teeth, clothes, hair, perfume, jewels, bed, water, faccenda, food, and visualize!

Also at the end of the day I kinda let the things that I think aren’t that useful go, because I wanna relax. So maybe I could try doing them after lunch when I am kinda in low mode. I also noticed that I am much more productive if I don’t do everyday everything. Practice everyday and yoga 4 times a week and meditating. But like 2 days admin (3/4 cicli) , 2 days interpretazione (3/4 cicli), 3 days rep (3/4 cicli).

Reflect on your objectives for the year:

Still have to -> Vincere un yap o opera school (informati, fai i video, metti curriculum in tedesco, fai le Application, metti su il repertorio giusto). Guadagnare 1000 euro Al mese (fai un finance plan). Vincere un’audizione (scrivi dove e fai l’applicazione, metti su il repertorio)

How to apply the 6 principles to your life:

-> puntare all’eccellenza: prefissati obiettivi precisi e fai un plan. Concludi quelli già conclusi.

-> lascia l’ambiente migliore di quello che era. Dai degli spunti, chiedi dí cosa hanno bisogno le persone, chiama i tuoi familiari, aiuta claudia, dai un atteggiamento di preparazione e positività a lezione e intorno ai tuoi colleghi.

-> Fai le cose che ti sei prefissata anche solo perché poi se no si abbassa l’autostima di te. Usa i 7 types of lazy e quando sei giù cerca di capire quali sono i pensieri dietro a quell’emozione che non ti fa fare le azioni.

-> continua a bere tanto, fare yoga e meditation regolarmente, fai le cose che producono ormoni felicità.

-> Smettila di dire bugie e dirti bugie. Basta nascondere cose. Sii convinta di quello che pensi. Prendi il feedback non come una cosa sulla tua identità.

Visualize

PRACTICE (1.30)

50 min physical warm up+ breath + exercises

25 min Lucia

REPERTORIO (30)

25 min’ harmony + recap

ADMIN

5 yap ♥️

HEALTH

Yoga and 2 liters ♥️

RELAZIONI

1 Faccenda ♥️

1 favore ♥️

Mamma grazie e ti amo, acknowledging

Chiama Nonna

Reprogramming self talk

I am not gonna be constant I am starting to Let go and I am never gonna be disciplined again. -> Thank you Gertrude for telling me this because I know you do it so that I just surrender. However fuck off because I am consistent and it’s great that I notice when I am not because I can see the habit patterns of my mind.

They are never gonna take me at a young artist program. I am trying but I know deep inside that I won’t succeed. -> thank you Gertrude for telling me this because then I can stay comoda and not really try. But fuck off because I really wanna try because I know deep inside that I can do it. -> If I put all my energy, love and will I will definitely make it yeah.

There is no way that I am ready for a fest ensemble. My technique is still not solid. -> Your technique is fucking solid and you are building it everyday and everyday is getting better cazzo you are becoming a machine. And if I put all of myself I can really study full roles. -> I am ready for a fest ensemble.

I am so old now and my tecnique is still not solid. Maybe I have made the biggest mistake ever. -> Your technique is solid and now it just need to stabilize. Thank you Gertrude for telling me this because you know it’s gonna be fucking hard but fuck off because I want to put that effort. -> My technique is solid. I am in control of my voice. Coming to Rome was the way to figure my voice out.

I am not gonna be able to juggle everything: admin/ practice different arias/ interpretation/ dealing with life. I am just not the kind of person who is suited for that. -> I am because I am gonna put the crescita Al centro and try a new strategy to divide the work in bigger chunks.

Affirmations

I am a good singer

The more I practice the more I love my voice and can control it

The more I take care of my voice the more it gets in shape to fulfill my dreams and satisfy the value of connection/ crescita/ coraggio

I am constant with singin

I am constant with drinking

I am constant with meditating

I am constant with yoga

[xennariel]

Grim Aria - Prologue

It’s here! This is the prologue to my novel, a story fifteen years in the making!

If you enjoy the prologue and want to read more, this will be posted as a monthly serializaton on my Patreon for patrons. If you are interested in this story, or are even just a fan of my fanfiction, consider supporting me on Patreon? I’m Xennariel there too.

A huge, great big thanks to my betas @canadiangold @lieutenantriza @ladywiltshire @astroshadowdeviant @sapphiredragonprincess and everyone that read it over for me and gave me their thoughts on it. Your help is very much appreciated, even if I didn’t listen to all of your suggestions. lol

This is also posted on FictionPress and AO3!

Chapter 1

Genre: Fantasy, Action, Adventure, Horror Rating: T for violence, swearing, and gore Summary: Xennariel Revenlyr is an Ankhari, a race of demon from a world known as Shadira. After tragedy strikes her people, she feels she has nothing left to live for but vengeance for her family. She decides to dedicate her life to finding and killing Chiron, the Lord of the Chaos Demons and the man that is responsible for her family’s deaths.

Due to events beyond her control, Xen finds herself trapped in an unfamiliar place that she later discovers is our world, a world dominated by humans that are unaware of the existence of other dimensions. She spends the next eight years futilely trying to find a way home, thinking she needs to get back to Shadira in order to kill Chiron. But maybe she doesn’t need to go that far to find him after all.

Begrudgingly accepting the help of a young man who seems oddly interested in the paranormal, Xennariel faces challenges, unexpected enemies, and attempts to cope with past trauma while trying to find a way home. Through it all, she refuses to give up on getting back to Shadira, regardless of the attachments she might be making in our world.

-----------

Dew drops clung to the the foliage of the deep woods, a light mist permeating the air. The early morning breeze was cool and the twin suns had yet to breach the horizon, leaving the hushed forest covered in shadows.

Four small figures moved through the trees, swift and light, the plants under their feet glowing in tones of blue and purple with each step, the trees changing color with each brush past them. The children’s soft giggles echoed through the forest as they raced toward a lake at the center. Running at their sides were two young wolves, a white wolf alongside the male child and a silver and blue wolf hugging close to the girl. The wolves playfully nipped and yapped as they ran, enjoying the fresh morning air just as much as the children.

They burst through the treeline and stopped at the banks of the lake to gaze out over the bright turquoise water rippling gently before them. Across the lake, reflected in the calm surface of the water, was a massive willow tree. Its branches were adorned with blue and purple leaves and flowers that flowed elegantly in a wide canopy. The dark trunk twisted like a braid reaching toward the heavens.

“Sheza is beautiful from here,” the boy said, eyes bright with a soft smile on his face.

“Mhm… the communion is tomorrow morning,” the girl replied, her eyes never leaving the Great Tree of Shadows. “I’ll share the secrets with you. Everything we do, we do together.”

“What if Mom finds out?”

“She won’t.”

“Okay… promise?”

The twins gently touched their foreheads together and held hands.

“Promise.”

They stood there for a few moments longer, the lake water lapping lazily at their clawed feet, before the girl stepped back toward the forest path and motioned to her brother.

“C’mon, let’s go back, Mom’s prob’ly already looking for me to start lessons.”

They returned to the path to make their way home, but neither were in any hurry.

“I know you’ll do a good job with your lessons today, Xen,” Xevran said as they walked back through the woods. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t make me try portals or guardian magic today,” Xennariel responded with a grumble.

Their walk home was filled with silence. The chatter of birds and cadence of their steps over the twigs and leaves on the path were the only sounds to be heard, subtle and calming.

Soon they arrived at their home city, Raizyx. The city around them was filled with the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It was awash in soft lights of blues, silvers, and purples, much like the forest that surrounded it. Raizyx blended in well with the forest, with homes built into large trees, well-worn paths made of stones and leaves, and stone and log buildings standing along the paths. Sheza stood behind it all, like she was watching over everything. From the city, the dark mist spiralling around Sheza’s trunk was visible. It seemed to come from the tree herself, and it spread to cover the ground around her and seeped partly into Raizyx before dissipating.

As expected, when the children finally arrived home, their mother was waiting for them, a raven perched on her delicate shoulder regarding them with scorn.

“You are late for your lessons, Xennariel,” their mother, Rizel, spoke. The calmness in her demeanor and voice belied the disappointment her children knew she felt. She stood with the city as her backdrop, fair skinned and radiant as always with her hands folded in front of herself, long dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and back in waves. Her sharp, dark eyes focused on the twins in silent admonishment. Ever regal and the picture of serenity, the only signs that she was upset were the look in her eyes and the way her graying feathered wings folded stiffly behind her.

“Xevran, you’ll come with me today, as usual,” a tall man with long, pale hair said, walking up to them. A large bear was at his side and he scratched her behind the ear absently as they walked. When he stepped up next to the twins, he bent down toward Xevran and, with a wink, added, “And maybe we’ll spy on your mother and sister sometime.”

Rizel crossed her arms and cocked her head, giving her husband a glare. Rel, the raven on her shoulder, mimicked the expression.  “Val…” she said, a note of warning in her voice.

Valran chuckled and put his arms around the twins, giving them a gentle squeeze. His children took after him with their lighter hair, gray-blue skin, and light blue eyes. Even their wings matched his, leathery instead of feathered. Where their mother was bird-like, Rizel’s husband and children’s features were more reptilian.

How identical the twins appeared despite being fraternal was surprising to everyone who met them. Virtually the only way to distinguish between the two was to notice that Xennariel’s right eye was sea-green in color while her left was the same blue as her brother’s.

“Fine, fine, we’ll keep to ourselves,” Val said with a laugh, standing straight again. “Come, Xevran.”

Xev turned to his sister, giving her a pitying glance. “Good luck, Xen.” He and his white wolf turned and hurried to follow Val and the bear as they sauntered off.

Xennariel frowned and nodded, waving to her brother and father as they left. When they were out of sight, Rizel returned her attention to her daughter.

“Today I want to focus on guardian magic and the activation of portal runes.”

Of course she did. Xennariel was convinced it was a punishment for being late again.

“Yes, mother,” Xen sighed, resigned to her fate.

With the silver-blue wolf following closely behind, she followed her mother to the place all Guardians from her clan were trained for as long as anyone could remember: a large, foreboding castle isolated on a mountain floating in the sky. Its dark stone spires and steeples stretched into the clouds, casting a shadow over half of Raizyx.

They climbed the wide, winding stone staircase that led to the castle. Xen frowned as she peered over the thick railing at the other children her age, all playing and laughing. Instead of being out in the forest, playing with her brother, Xennariel had to spend her days learning how to strengthen her mind and magical abilities for the day she took over as Guardian in place of her mother. But all ever she wanted to do was spend more time with Xevran.

She sighed at her thoughts and continued on, following Rizel into the castle.

The Ankhari, known to many of the mortal races as Silence Demons, are one of the five major demon races that exist in the world of Shadira. The other clans live on the four other continents, each ruling over their own continent and each with their own demon lord, or Guardian, of their clan that specializes in a specific type of magic. The five demon lords make up a council that the people of Shadira dubbed The Great Five or simply The Five. Each continent has a Great Tree that the demon lords of the clans commune with. Their hearts and souls bind with the tree at a young age and the environment and condition of each continent is directly bound to the condition of the demon lord’s soul. If the demon lord is upset or distressed, the continent they rule will suffer. Plant and animal life will become sick or even die off until the demon lord’s soul is healed. If they become sick, the continent becomes sick. This is why only those with strong minds and powers are chosen as Guardians. Xennariel...

“Xennariel?” Rizel turned to find that her daughter didn’t seem to be paying attention. It was nothing new, but the information she had just explained was of vital importance. If Xennariel was going to be the next Guardian of the Ankhari, she needed to keep her heart and mind as strong as possible. The very ground they walked upon depended on it.

“Xennariel, are you even listening to me?”

Xennariel looked up at her name and nodded.

“Yes, mother,” Xen responded, sounding as bored as she looked. “But I already know all of this. We start lessons like this every day.”

“Because this is important. Your communion with Sheza is tomorrow morning. You will inherit my burden some day as the only Ankhari connected with Sheza until a guardian is chosen after you. This delicate cycle must not be tampered with. The circle must not be broken.”

Xennariel worried the inside of her lip and clenched her fists under the large wooden table at which she was seated. Tampering with the cycle meant minor mistakes, such as waiting too long to commune, as well as other, more taboo things, like allowing one who was not a future lord of the clan to bind their soul with the great tree. Sharing the connection, especially with multiple others besides the current guardian and future guardian, could have potentially disastrous results. Xennariel knew that, the knowledge being ingrained in her for practically her entire life, and yet, she was still willing to share the communion with her brother. Xevran deserved to be guardian, far more than she ever would, and she would ignore the possible consequences in favor of the two of them leading their people together. The twins had always felt like they were one soul split into two bodies, so there was no way both of them binding themselves to Sheza at the same time would end badly.

“I know,” Xen replied, hoping her mother wouldn’t see through her sudden uneasiness.

Rizel looked over her daughter and sighed. "I know you do. Now, let us adjourn to the courtyard." As they walked, Rizel continued to go over important lessons she knew Xennariel needed to constantly be reminded of. "And never forget, Xennariel," Rizel finished just as they reached the door that led to the courtyard. "All life is important. Everything has meaning. Every soul must be honored and treated with respect and kindness. Violence is not the answer. If you remember that, I know you will become a fine guardian."

"Violence is sometimes the answer," Xennariel muttered under her breath so her mother wouldn't hear. The wolf pup at her side whined and bumped his head into her leg. “Quiet you. Mom’s not always right.”

The day dragged on as Rizel began working with Xennariel on her use of magic. Usually Xen went through her daily lessons with her mother effortlessly. Her magical abilities were exceptional and she never needed to focus too much to accomplish what her mother asked of her. Unfortunately for her, it happened to be the day her mother chose to work on guardian magic and portal magic, the two schools of magic Xennariel could not master no matter how hard she tried. The only thing she seemed to be good at was wielding shadow magic and destroying things. When it came to guardian magic, which included healing and protection, she could never heal more than minor cuts and bruises, and creating a strong protective barrier was out of the question. And despite having memorized all the runes needed to create portals, she could never seem to be able to activate those runes.

Though her mother never said anything, Xennariel would catch the brief look of disappointment in her eyes whenever she failed to create a portal or heal a wound. It was that look that drove her to work harder, but also why she would become even more upset when she continually failed. Xen’s thoughts drifted back to Xevran who, in direct contrast to her, could naturally wield powerful guardian magic without much magical training. Together, the twins were unstoppable. It’s why sharing leadership of their people made so much sense to them.

By the end of the day, even after so much hard work and effort poured into everything, Rizel and Xennariel went home with nothing to show for it.

Frustrated and tired, Xennariel retreated to the woods again with her brother, gripping Xevran’s hand as they ran, their wolf spirit guardians at their sides. They arrived at the other side of the lake outside Raizyx and Xennariel flopped to the ground against a tree, her wolf coming to rest his head in her lap. She clutched the pup to her chest and buried her nose in his fur.

“Why can’t I do it?” Xennariel said, voice cracking, muffled by her spirit guardian’s fur. “What good is a guardian who can’t use guardian magic?”

Xevran sat down next to his sister and leaned against her. “You’ll get it one day, Xen, I know you will. I believe in you.”

Xennariel sniffed and wiped away her tears, looking up at Xevran. He was always so supportive of her and she didn’t know what she would do without him.

“Thanks, Xev. I’m so happy you’re with me. We’ll always be together, right?”

“Right,” Xevran giggled and smiled, tackling his sister, eliciting a laugh from her. She forgot about her worries as they played the rest of the night before returning home to sleep.

-------

It was still dark when Xennariel awoke on the morning of her communion. With hours before she had to begin getting ready, she groaned and tossed and turned in her hammock, trying to get a little more sleep. It was no use. Throwing back her sheet, she leaned down to Xevran in his hammock below her. Maybe they could get some play time in before she would have to be apart from him all day? She saw that Zyamishka, Xevran’s spirit guardian, was awake. One of the pup’s eyes cracked open when Xen leaned over her hammock. Zyamishka nuzzled Xevran’s hand and the boy stirred, waking slowly and yawning as he reached to pet his spirit guardian.

“Wanna go play by the lake?”

Xevran looked up at Xennariel and grinned.

“Yeah!”

Xennariel flipped down from her hammock with Shakuran, her wolf spirit guardian.

“I’ll race ya!”

“I’ll win!”

Fits of laughter overtook them as they ran off, jumping over rocks and logs, trying to get ahead of each other with each leap. They crashed into each other when they reached the lake, falling into the cool, shallow water as they came to a stop to catch their breaths. Their smiles were radiant as they splashed each other, their spirit guardians yapping and hopping about them as they played.

After a while, Xennariel’s movements became less enthusiastic and her gaze drifted off every so often. Xevran was quick to notice the change in her demeanor.

“Don’t be scared, Xen,” Xevran said.

“I can’t help it. What if I mess up? You’d be a better guardian, Xev. They shoulda picked you. You’re nicer and good at healing people and stuff.”

“Nuh uh, I’m no good with any magic ‘sides guardian magic.”

“... I guess.”

The suns soon rose almost above the trees and they knew they had to go back. Reluctantly, they trudged out of the lake, making sure to return to Raizyx with plenty of time before the communion. Xen had important things to do that day and they didn’t want to be late. They were never scolded by their parents, but that didn’t mean they never felt bad about disobeying, like they had the previous day. The communion was one of the most important events that would ever take place in Xennariel’s life and the twins made sure to arrive home early. Xennariel and Xevran went their separate ways when they reached Raizyx and wouldn’t see each other again until the communion was complete.

In preparation for her communion, Xennariel was required to cleanse herself beneath the waterfall by the lake. The cool, turquoise water was thought to bring peace and clarity to those who meditated beneath it as it cascaded down into Lake Vryn. As Xen sat on a large rock under the fast moving water, she stared across the lake at Sheza, breathing deeply, trying to calm her steadily fraying nerves. The knowledge that everyone in the city would be watching her and judging her in just a few hours weighed heavily on her mind and it took every ounce of effort to focus and meditate.

After the cleansing, she was then dressed in traditional ceremonial garb that included robes of various shades of purple, green, and gray, jangling silver anklets embossed with gemstones, silver earrings along her long, pointed ears, a silver jeweled cuff near the top of her long, leathery tail, and a crown of leaves, flowers, and thorns atop her head that weaved into her long, azure hair. The clothes were surprisingly light and she was able to move better than she had anticipated. The robes were scratchy, but she could probably ignore it if she concentrated hard enough on everything else around her.

Once she was ready, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the bright afternoon. The suns were high, clouds dotting the sky, and birds sang happily in the trees. Xennariel’s heart pounded in her chest, her blood rushing through her ears. She clenched and released her clammy hands into fists at her side in a failed attempt to relax, but she was good at pretending. She walked forward confidently, a mask of steel on her face, her dark wings folded regally behind her. Shakuran trotted at her side with his head held high.

‘There she is, the future guardian.’

‘Isn’t she one of the cursed children?’

‘She’s Rizel the Eternal’s daughter. I expect we’ll see great things from her.’

‘Lady Rizel wore those robes better, I think.’

Xennariel could hear the whispers of the people around her as she walked through Raizyx toward Sheza. They weren’t being nearly as discreet as they thought. Clenching her jaw, she tried not to react, though her tail swished briefly in agitation.

She would be nine years old in just a few days and the things her people spoke, comparing her to her beautiful, kind, and compassionate mother, were like daggers in her side. Hearing those things at such a young age created wounds that would fester and stay with her for most of her life, especially if she was never able to measure up to her mother one day.

Attempting to block out any further comments from bystanders, Xennariel concentrated on walking, focusing instead on the jingling made by the charms on her anklets with each step forward. She could feel the soft push of Shakuran in her mind, reassuring her and encouraging her to keep moving. If it weren’t for him, she would have already fled the ceremony. Catching Xevran and her father’s gazes helped too. Their smiles were infectious on any normal day, though all Xen could manage at that moment was a meek upturn of her lips when she walked passed them.

When she finally reached her mother standing at the base of Sheza’s massive trunk, Rizel nodded at her, her smile full of warmth, pride visible in her eyes. Xennariel nodded back, absently fidgeting with her robes.

“Xennariel Megari Revenlyr,” Rizel spoke, only loud enough that Xennariel and those closest to them could hear. “Future Guardian of Soruzen, Chosen of the Ankhari, come forward and place your hand upon Sheza, Great Tree of Shadows. Focus your spirit and hear her voice.”

Xennariel took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing her tiny clawed hand on Sheza’s trunk, scattering the mist that seeped from it. She closed her eyes, focusing her energy as her mother instructed. Her heart began to beat erratically in her ears again as her fear of failure bubbled up. She stomped the feeling down and pushed through her unease, refusing to ruin this moment that she had been preparing for her whole life. Her mother had been so proud. She wouldn’t let her down. Couldn’t.

As Xen concentrated, the noise around her diminished and soon a silver light appeared where her hand met Sheza, gradually growing brighter and stronger. She began to feel a comforting warmth envelop her, slowly drifting further through her body the longer she stood there. In her mind, a soft sound grew louder and she honed in on it, listening intently. It was like pleasant music playing just for her, soothing chimes on the wind echoing in her mind. Whatever worries she felt evaporated as she communed with the great tree, filling her with knowledge, strength, and understanding beyond her years. The energy tingled down her spine with a pleasant warmth that calmed her.

It wasn’t nearly as scary as she thought it would be.

Sheza’s song eventually tapered off. Xennariel opened her eyes and stepped back, her fears alleviated. Xevran would surely be able to commune just as easily and it felt like a great weight was lifted off her shoulders. It was something she never told him, but Xen had been worried that binding to Sheza would be hard on Xevran. Now that she had done it, she was even more confident in the plan they would put into motion that night when everyone else was asleep.

“Well done, Xennariel.”

Xen looked up at her mother’s voice to find a loving smile on Rizel’s face. Rel, Rizel’s raven spirit guardian perched on her shoulder, radiated more warmth and affection than Xennariel had ever felt from him. Xen couldn’t help but return the smile, giggling at the sudden happiness and lightness she felt now that the communion was over. Shakuran was overjoyed as well, circling closely around Xennariel’s legs and nuzzling against her side, ears perked and tail wagging as he whined.

There were cheers and chants and applause coming from the people around them, but rather than reveling in the attention, Xennariel just wanted to go home and be with her family for the rest of the day. Rizel noticed how uncomfortable Xennariel appeared and she put her arm around Xen’s shoulder, pulling her close for a quick hug before leading her home as the crowd slowly scattered behind them.

-------

It was nearing early morning hours when Xennariel and Xevran snuck out of their home. The only sound was the crunch of their clawed feet on fallen leaves as they made their way through the dark city with only the light of the moons and stars to guide them.

“It was so neat Xen! You were all glowy and I can’t get over it!”

Xennariel laughed and nudged her brother.

“I know, Xev, you already told me.”

“Well I’m gonna be talking about it forever, I think. You think it’ll be that easy for me too?”

“I bet. All ya have to do is concentrate on your powers, focus on Sheza, and listen.”

Xevran nodded and the two of them approached Sheza, her leaves and flowers glowing in the night. The mist pooled around their feet as they stood there, looking up into Sheza’s canopy. It looked like the night sky, dark and twinkling with stars. It was mesmerizing.

Xevran slowly lifted his hand and placed it hesitantly on the trunk before him. He closed his eyes, focused his power, and waited. Xennariel stood next to him, nodding and smiling. This was it. They were going to be tied to Sheza together forever.

Except nothing happened.

A long silence stretched before them before Xevran frowned and opened his eyes again.

“Nothing’s happening.”

Xennariel’s ears drooped, her look of disappointment matching his.

“You can’t hear anything? No song?”

Xevran shook his head and Xennariel huffed. It wasn’t fair. It had to work.

“Let’s try again. Together.”

“Okay.”

The twins put their hands onto the trunk at the same time and concentrated with all their might on the tree before them, their spirit guardians even joining in, placing their paws at the base of the trunk.

This time, the effect was almost immediate. Light engulfed the twins and their spirit guardians, the dark mist swirling about as a breeze kicked up around them.

Xevran grit his teeth. Sheza’s musical voice reverberating in his mind was quiet, but it was somehow painful. It was almost too much to take and before long, he had to let go of the tree and catch his breath. The music gradually faded and he was filled with a sense of power that hadn’t been there before. Zyamishka felt it too, just as Shakuran had when Xennariel communed, and she leaned against Xevran’s legs as Sheza’s song subsided. They had connected with Sheza, but their strength had been exhausted. All the training Xennariel had undergone must have prepared her for her communion because it had been so much easier for her.

“Xev! Are you okay?!” Xennariel leapt to her brother’s side and gripped his shoulders. She was shaking, frantic and confused about his reaction to the communion.

Xevran smiled weakly at his sister and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m just really sleepy now.”

“That didn’t happen to me. I was fine after when I did it. Maybe something went wrong?”

“Nah, it was kind of quiet, but I heard Sheza’s song that time. I feel a little different too. Lighter. Stronger.”

Xennariel nodded. That sounded right. It was how she felt too. But Sheza’s song had been loud in her head, not quiet.

“She wasn’t quiet for me…” Xen looked back to Sheza in thought. “Maybe… oh, I don’t know! Maybe she connected to you through me?”

Xevran thought about it for a moment and nodded.

“Yeah, maybe. I thought I heard your voice too for a moment. It was strange.”

“Well at least it worked! Let’s go home and go to sleep. Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Xevran nodded. Xennariel helped him stand and he leaned heavily against her side as they walked home at a slow pace.

-------

Xennariel woke early the next morning despite getting to sleep so late. She hung from her hammock with a huge grin to face Xevran upside down. She wanted to play before her lessons that morning, as always, but Xev was sleeping deep and peacefully. He must have been tired from their struggle to bind him with Sheza and Xen didn’t want to wake him, so she jumped from her hammock and crept out of their room and into the predawn darkness alone with Shakuran. Neither Xev nor Zyamishka heard her leave.

The morning air was crisp as Xennariel and Shakuran ventured to their favorite spot on the other side of the lake. She flopped onto her back at the shores of the lake, staring at the steadily brightening sky peaking through the canopy of the trees. The tranquility of the forest was calming. Water lapping gently at the shore, a soft breeze rustling the leaves on the trees, birds singing around her. It all brought her peace as she lay sprawled out amongst fallen leaves and flowers.

A pillar of fire exploded from behind Sheza and Xennariel leapt to her feet, eyes wide.

“Xennariel! Xennariel!”

Xevran’s panicked cries came from behind her and she turned to find her brother and Zyamishka running toward her, out of breath, eyes full of fear. Something was terribly wrong and she could feel the tension on the air. She gripped Shakuran’s fur to ground herself before fear took over, moving to meet Xevran on the forest path.

“Xev, what was that? What’s going on?”

“It’s Mom and Dad!” Xevran replied in a huff, trying to explain as quickly as he could. He was pale and breathing heavily and it took him a few moments to catch his breath before he could speak again. When he did, it came out rushed and Xen almost didn’t understand him. “Mom’s friend from the Drashu clan came to visit, but then he went somewhere with Mom and his men just attacked Dad for no reason! And, and then when others tried to stop him, his men attacked them too! I ran away to find you. We have to stop them!”

“What?!” Xennariel gasped. “Why would they do that?”

“I dunno, but Dad’s in trouble.”

“C’mon, let’s go!”

Xennariel and Xevran ran faster than they ever had toward their home, Shakuran and Zyamishka at their heels.

The Drashu were known as Chaos Demons to the humans and other mortal races of Shadira for good reason. They specialized in fire magic and out of all the demon clans, they were the ones to cause the most problems. But Chiron, their lord, had been good friends with Rizel for many, many years. Like many of the Drashu guardians before him, he was kind and easygoing. For him to suddenly attack them was confusing to Xennariel and Xevran, but they would defend their family and their people against anyone who threatened them, no matter who it was.

The chaos echoing from Raizyx became louder the closer the twins came. Screams and the scent of smoke were carried on the breeze, filtering throughout the forest. As the twins entered the city, they gasped at the sight that greeted them, moving closer together to grip each other’s hands tightly. Shakuran and Zyamishka pushed against the children’s legs, shivering and whining.

The fire burned with the fury of a thousand dragons. It surrounded them and the billowing, black smoke blocked out the sky. The Ankhari people both fought and ran in the streets, evacuating their homes or trying to stop the Drashu that were attacking them. But with Rizel nowhere in sight and so many people passed out on the ground from the smoke, they were fighting a losing battle.

Xennariel gripped her brother’s hand tightly and glared, turning to her brother with determination in her eyes.

“C’mon Xev, we have to help.”

“Let’s do it.”

Xevran raised his hands toward the sky and brought them down swiftly again, a nearly invisible barrier forming around himself and Xennariel as he did so. Xennariel leapt forward, pulling her arms back to create a ball of shadows surrounded by crackling blue light between her hands. Once the ball was formed, she shoved her arms forward, shooting the ball at one of the Drashu attackers. He fell as the ball of shadows hit him. Not waiting to see if he would stay down, Xennariel spun and shot her shadow magic at every Chaos Demon she could see.

The attackers finally noticed the twins and threw balls of fire at them in an attempt to stop them, but Xevran’s barrier prevented the fire magic from even touching them. So long as they were together, there was no way anything could hurt them.

That was when Xevran caught sight of his father just as Val was struck with an arrow made of fire. Xevran called out to his father, but his voice barely sounded over the battle raging around them. He reached for Xennariel’s shoulder, grabbing her attention as he pointed frantically toward where their father fell. Xennariel caught on quickly, but had no time to despair.

“Go help Dad!” she yelled as she shot out another wave of shadow magic in a seemingly futile attempt to thwart their attackers.

“Will you be okay!?”

“Yeah! Go!”

The twins made eye contact and nodded in silent resolution before Xevran ran off to try to protect their father.

Alone, Xennariel had to be careful. She was powerful, but without her brother next to her, his barrier was not as strong. It dwindled and flickered the further away Xevran was. Just as the barrier began running out, a wave of fire came barreling at her. Unable to dodge it fast enough, Xennariel waited for it to strike her.

But it never came. Something jet black screamed past her in the air, nothing but a blur of feathers to her as it hit the wave of fire and redirected it. Xennariel smiled once she realized what it was.

“Mom!”

Rizel stepped forward, her spirit guardian swooping back toward her. He landed on her shoulder and shook his smouldering feathers.

“Stand back, Xennnariel.” Rizel said as she ran past her daughter. “Get someplace safe!” Rizel lifted her arm and pointed at the Drashu that had attacked Xennariel. “Go, Rel!”

Rel lifted off swiftly from her arm, a blur of feathers again as he transformed into an arrow, weaving and whistling as he struck the Chaos Demons. He swooped back to Rizel and became a staff as she reached for him, purple lightning crackling from a gem at the top.

Xennariel stared in awe at her mother. She had never seen her fight before. So this was the power of a guardian. Possessing the ability to transform her spirit guardian into any kind of weapon. She wondered when she would be able to do such a thing. It seemed like an impossible feat.

Seeing her mother fighting so hard filled her with more determination and Xennariel stood, prepared to continue fighting alongside her. Ignoring Rizel’s warning, she ran toward her, only to stop after a few strides. Xevran's barrier shattered like broken glass around her. Crying out, she fell to her knees, gritting her teeth as her hands clenched at her chest. Her vision swam, ears ringing, the sounds of fighting drowning out. Shakuran fell at her side, panting heavily. It was strange, he shouldn’t have been feeling the same pain, and yet he lay at her side, yowling in obvious distress.

Xennariel looked around for any sign of what could be causing her such torment and her eyes landed on her father and brother, both on the ground a ways away, unmoving, blood pooling around them, seeping into the dirt. Her eyes widened at the sight. She gasped and clutched at her chest with one hand, the other reaching for Xevran.

“Xev?” she breathed, voice quivering.

The wind tousled his hair, smoke and debris falling over him, yet he remained unmoving. Xennariel realized it then, like a firestorm exploding in her chest. Xevran was gone and she felt his death as if it had been her own. Like a piece of her soul had been torn from her. She cried out and continued to reach for him, unable to find the strength move as her world came crashing down around her.

She was so distracted, she hadn’t even seen the man with long, bright red hair approach her. Her mother’s oldest friend, Chiron, lord of the Chaos Demons, stood towering above her. His black horns curled up from his temples, red and black armor reflecting the fire from the burning city around them. He and his dragon spirit guardian cast shadows over her and Xennariel still did not move, still did not see them. A cruel smile split Chiron’s face. He reached out and his spirit guardian became a flaming sword in his hand. He lifted the blade, a terrible glint in his blood red eyes as he glared at Xennariel.

“Your existence is a mistake,” Chiron spat, his voice a heavy baritone. “You too shall die now.”

The flaming sword came whistling down toward Xennariel, but it never struck her. Something warm and wet hit her face and she slowly turned to see her mother above her, impaled on Chiron’s sword through her chest. Xennariel’s eyes grew even wider with a sharp inhalation. It felt as if time slowed down around her. Rizel fell to the ground and Xennariel reached out, her tiny hands pressing into the seeping wound in her mother’s chest. Rel fell on the ground next to Rizel. He was fading, his form shimmering in the firelight. Rizel rested her hand on his soft back, the other coming to grasp Xennariel’s hand weakly.

Next to them, Chiron dropped the sword and it returned to the form of his dragon spirit guardian. He gripped his head in his hands, shaking his head as he slowly stepped back from Rizel and Xennariel.

“No...Rizel. Not Rizel. No. Why?”

His rambling was barely audible to Rizel and Xennariel. They no longer acknowledged his presence as Rizel lay dying.

“M… Mother…”

“It’s… all right… my darling.” Rizel’s voice was a whisper as she lifted her hand to touch Xennariel’s cheek. “You must…  run away. You are the guardian of the Ankhari now. They need you. Get away and survive... so you can protect them.”

Xennariel shook her head and her voice broke when she responded.

“No, I can’t… I… I don’t know how.”

“You can. I… believe in… you.”

A purple light emitted from Rizel’s fingertips resting against Xennariel’s right cheek. Her green eye lit up in a flash of purple, an intricate magic circle appearing inside her pupil for mere seconds before the light faded and the symbol disappeared. Rizel’s hand fell limply to the ground and Xennariel shook her head.

“Mo… Mother?” Xennariel stared into Rizel’s lifeless eyes and shook her shoulder. “Mother?”

Chiron was upon her again, shaking with barely contained rage.

“You! You brat! This is your fault! You should never have been born!”

Chiron lifted his sword again with a furious roar. Xennariel still stared at her mother, as if she were in a trance, ignoring Chiron. Her tears fell at last, streaming down her face, stinging the cuts on her cheeks. She lifted her shaking hands covered in her mother’s blood and her eyes drifted from her hands to the broken bodies of her brother and father. A sob escaped her lips.

Unable to control her emotions any longer, she raised her face to the sky and screamed. An explosion of magical energy burst from her body as she cried, killing everything within the Central Continent of Shadira.

[kpopchangedme]

L’Opéra: Overture [Part I]

The arrival of a man from your past right before the curtain goes up leaves your mysterious music teacher unsettled and spiteful during your big debut.

Protagonists: Im Jaebum - You - Park Jinyoung

Rating: NC-17

Genre: Romance - Drama - Love Triangle - Childhood Friends - 1880s!AU

Words: 4.1k

Lyly’s note: Yes, this is the first complete chapter, but the prologues of the two male protagonists, Jinyoung and Jaebum, are already out. Check them out in the Mini-Masterlist. Enjoy ;)

L’Opéra [Mini Masterlist] 

“NO-NO-NOOO!” You drop on your knees to avoid the decorative flowers flying in your direction. “I said I won’t stand things like this ANYMORE!” Meg and Raoul help you up, dragging you away from the center-stage fury.

“COGLIONE!”

She turns to point at you, blinded by rage, the dramatic hair piece standing on top of her head wobbles dangerously. “How can I sign when that stupida ballerina can’t even stay in her spot!”

You feel Madame Giry’s hand on your shoulder, you know she has your back. For once, the mistake was not yours. You were standing at your exact spot when Carlotta threw her hands back “acting” and hit you. Then she went ballistic for the tenth time since the beginning of the rehearsals. To be fair, you’re not exactly a great dancer, you never had much interest in ballet, so you make a lot of mistakes. If the fault was reproach to you by any other actor you’d assume it to be a sincere misunderstanding, but everybody and their mother knows that Carlotta is simply hysterical.

The chief repetiteur, M. Reyer, holds his temples glaring at her from afar. She’s a lot of work to say the least. The rest of the cast and dancers start to practice amongst themselves, already forgetting about the Italian diva’s anger. It’s a usual spectacle for you, but being the attention of her rage is something new. The maestro excuses himself and his orchestra, explaining they’ll rehearse on their own since they need time to get ready for tomorrow night.

Tomorrow is opening night, the première of a fresher version of the famous Opera house. At least, that’s what they are advertising; M. Firmin and M. André. It’s to make people believe that the new owners have change something. However, all they did was ask about the cost of things and wonder how to make more profits with less of everything. Ever since the tragic death of Joseph Buquet, a chief stagehead, it’s been hard to hold on to the crew and actors, they all leave. The curse of the Opera Ghost they say. Quite a reputation for a legendary Opera House, he’s the reason why they sold it to these business men and they intend to make the most of it.

You wish you could leave too, you think this as you watch Carlotta repeatedly hit a poor extra’s head with her fan. You’d leave if you’d have anywhere else to go to, but at 20 years of age, you’re an unmarried orphan with no name nor fortune. You’re lucky Alice Giry, a life-long friend of your father and in charge of this corps de ballet, remembered him enough to care for you. When Carlotta takes a step in your direction again, Madame Giry pushes you aside to face her in your stance.

“Signora, I think we should practice the aria of Act III.” She hits the floor twice with her cane to catch bystanders’ attention. “I’m sure the cast would be most delighted to hear your rendition of Elissa’s solo…”

People cheer to appease the ire of the soprano, smiling if she can witness their expression, but wincing if she can’t. Everybody who must enjoy Carlotta’s extravagant singing techniques everyday secretly dreads the prospect of her solos.

“AH!” The singer straightens her hair, giving you a last disgusted glance. “If you insist, I must oblige!” She giggles pleased, as though the aggressive turmoil everybody witnessed never was.

She turns to face M. Reyer, waving her hand threateningly to get her cue, when she opens her mouth again there’s an inaudible collective sigh.

___

“This isn’t real” Jaebum tells this to himself over and over, still, panic fills him when he hears the slow footsteps coming closer. The man comes to a stop to his left, finishing his speech. Jaebum hears people’s curious murmurs all over. He wants to recoil with every fiber of his being, but he fights it. He needs to eat tonight, he can’t be punished again. Instead of gripping to his bag, he lets the man rip it from his head, in a theatrical grand gesture.

Instantly, the light of the torches blinds him, making his eyes tear up in pain. The sudden brightness is caustic, painful and mean, Jaebum hates the cruel unforgiving light.

Somewhere to his right, a little girl lets out a strident scream, frightened by the sight of him while the others just gasp in horror. He represses the urge to cover his face and stares at the ground instead, completely frozen, waiting for his eyes to get accustomed to the intense luminosity. This isn’t new to him, he’s used to this. Jaebum knows what comes next. Just wait, a man will be the first one to start to laugh; they usually are the most amused by his show.

When one finally does, Jaebum darts his black eyes on him, wishing he could kill him with his glare. A few ladies around take a step back, afraid, but they know he can’t reach them. After a moment they join in, laughing wickedly, only then does Jaebum start to memorize every trait of their faces, what clothing they are wearing, what society they belong to. They don’t know, because they don’t care about him, but the boy never forgets a face.

“Is it human?” The little girl who screamed earlier hides behind her parents frightened when Jaebum turns her way. She stands on that horrible side, so she had the most impressive show when the man revealed him. She widens her green eyes when she realizes the monster seems to understand her words and points at him, tugging at her mother’s hand for reassurance. She looks around 8 years old, slightly younger than Jaebum, with long blond locks. He furrows his gaze, knowing he will never forget that round peachy perfect face. He mentally adds her to his list.

“Only half…” His guard sucks on his cigar while passing a hat around, accumulating small coins. “Half-human and half-demon.”

Jaebum recoils to the opposite side of the cage when the scary man glances his way, disgusted. He feels his stomach turn, if he’d eaten something that day, he’d definitely throw up at the sheer fear that fills him. He thinks that man is the only true demon in this room. Already, people are looking elsewhere, losing interest. The little girl is gone now, everybody’s moving on to the next show, forgetting they just witnessed the atrocity of Jaebum’s existence. That’s his favourite moment, when he’s allowed to pick up his bag and hide. Alone again, he sits back on the cold ground, clutching the humid cloth around his face. The comfort of the linen on his distorted features is only for a short moment though. He knows better; others will be coming tonight, they always do.

Jaebum wakes up in terror, gripping his soaked sheets. He knew this wasn’t real. The nightmares still come every night, even after over a decade. He lies back, purposefully breathing in and out slowly to calm his heartbeat. When the fear becomes nothing but a dull ache, he gets up to wash his face with cold water.

He’s used to this; Jaebum knows he won’t fall asleep again. He might as well climb out of his hole to survey the rehearsal, see what trouble you’re getting into today. He smiles, appeased.

He’s there, watching, when the lead actress accidentally slaps you across the face. Carlotta Giudicelli, that Italian bitch is on Jaebum’s list. Has been ever since she came to his Opera House to damage his eardrums with her vocal excessive and useless cades. He glares at her from his high perch, hiding in the security of the shadows above the rehearsal. She hates you, he’s almost sure of it, she always makes sure to bother you. He knows she’s not especially kind to others either, but he doesn’t care about them, you’re the only one on his mind.

That’s why he almost loses it when he witnesses the altercation. After that, she goes mad, gets completely crazy and starts yelling at everybody. You have to duck down when she throws something at your head and a male dancer helps you up. Jaebum clenches his fists, no man should touch your arms like that, it doesn’t matter if he means well. You’re not his. He lets pure anger boil his blood. If it usually scares him how powerful and tempting his hatred can get; today it doesn’t, because it’s about you.

Slowly, he gets up and lets it take over, lets it consume him. He observes as Carlotta repeatedly hits a man with her fan, he didn’t do anything, just had the misfortune to be at arm’s reach. She takes a step your way, but Jaebum isn’t looking down anymore. He’s gone, he wants to scare her, she needs to calm down, know her place. He knows what needs to be done for you.

___

“The what?!” Richard Firmin claps a hand over his mouth in horror.

“The moon, monsieur…” The nervous young stagehand grimaces. “It fell on stage during rehearsals, this morning.”

“How is that even possible?” Gilles André, his business partner, yaps at the poor boy. “Weren’t you at your post? Who’s in charge of the set?”

“Me, M. André… It’s just…” He glances at Madame Giry, next to him. “I’m new and I wasn’t there… But, the um- the P-Phantom cut the ropes.” Both owners roll their eyes in perfect unison.

“The Ghost did this…” M. Firmin starts.

“The Phantom did that…” Completes his counterpart. “We’ve been here for a while, we don’t believe in ghosts and we have yet to see this revenant!”

“Messieurs!” The young boy pales even more. “I-I’ve seen it. There is a ghost, he’s very real. He appears from thin air d-dressed in a black cloak and prowls in the shadows above the stage… His face is c-covered by a-”

“Allons, garcon!” Madame Giry interrupts him. “Nobody’s saying that what you saw isn’t real. Messieurs, be careful about what you wish to see. The Opera Ghost is not someone to be taken lightly…”

“Was anyone hurt by the… moon?” M. Firmin waves her concerns away with his hand.

“No, but Carlotta stormed out.” She purses her lips, trying to cover the smile creeping the corner of her mouth. “She said you are amateurs that can’t keep the superstitions of the locals from interfering with her art.”

“Catastrophe!” M. André presses his hands on his cheeks, shocked. “The show is sold out tomorrow night and we lost our prima donna! Should we go after her? Crawl?”

“One of my ballerina can sign like a nightingale, monsieur.”

“A ballerina?! Taking a lead role? Let’s crawl!” M. Firmin nods.

“Who’s the dancer?” M. André asks with interest and when he sees the look on his partner face, he shrugs. “You can’t possibly think of cancelling or crawling, Richard.”

“Mademoiselle y/n, she’s an amazing soprano. If you let her show you, you’ll be more than pleased.” Madame Giry presses on. “She had a rather, well… gifted teacher.”

“Your protégée?” M. Firmin turns back to her, intrigued. “The child of the famous musician?”

“Yes, I’m afraid my adoptive daughter seems to be born to sign rather than dance.”

“Yes… Well, she has been there for the entirety of the preparations…” M. André insists, hopeful.

“Very well then! Let’s hear that voice, bring her to us.” His peer concludes, resigned.

___

Meg is putting stage makeup on your face while you sit in front of the imposing mirror decorating your tiny room. The numerous candles brightly illuminates the room and stretch eerie shadows on the walls around.

“Still, it feels like she’ll storm back just in time for the show.” You tuck at a strand of your hair and your best friend slaps your wrist.

“Stop messing with my work of art!” She smiles but her voice is firm, her tone commanding like her mother’s. “I don’t think they’d let her after she ran out like that!” She plucks her lips for you to do the same and paints bit of rouge on them. “Mom says that the messieurs didn’t know what to do when they heard… They panicked until she mentioned you could do it.” You bite the interior of your cheek, can you? “I didn’t know you could sing like that, you’re amazing y/n” Meg’s praise sounds more like a reproach for hiding it from her.

“Thank you. I’m very nervous, although…” You clutch the sheer fabric of your petticoat between your fingers. “I-I’ve been practicing for a while… Meg, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this!”  Only 5 hours are left before the curtains open.

“Of course!” Meg powders your neck and chest for the tenth time, while she leans in, her gorgeous features catch the light. You’ve always been secretly jealous of her appearance, she’s everything a ballerina ought to be; petite and dainty. Everything a man ought to desire. You, on the other hand… “You definitely found your field, you’re way better at that than dancing!” She laughs, the sound pure and melodious. “Everybody was amazed by your abilities at rehearsals today. Tell me, who’s teaching you?”

“But… About Carlotta… Do you think she’ll be mad at me?” You avoid answering and watch her shrug as she works her own hair into a tight practical bun.

“Probably, I mean…” She winces. “Mom says she did it to make the new owners crawl, but they refused to cancel. She wanted to feel irreplaceable and yet, here you are, filling her shoes after just a day! But y/n…” Meg grabs your hands, earnestly. “Does her sentiment really matter if you can be out there? Center stage?”

You turn your head to look at the many flowers already piling on your small bed and desks. Meg is right. This is what you always secretly wished for.

___

“I-I’m so sorry, Vicomte…” At the apology, one of his eyebrow raises in curiosity. “La Carlotta is not here…” He eyes the young maiden in front of him like she’s speaking a foreign language.

“How is that possible?” He takes a step back to look around the dim lit stone corridor and back at the many roses he’s holding in his hand. He just wanted to visit the lead actress and tell her he’s looking forward to having dinner together afterwards. “I was told this is her dressing room, isn’t she getting ready?” He reaches in his pocket for his watch to get the time. Only an hour to go before the show. A terrible thought sprouts in Jinyoung’s mind. What have those two business fools done to his Opera? Lost his Prima Donna? His gaze widens and the young dancer he stopped to ask questions looks at her feet, nervous.

“Um- She left yesterday, monsieur.” When she raises her eyes again, he notices the blush on her cheeks and her moist pink lips. She’s beautiful, gorgeous in a more-than-perfect kind of way. Jinyoung gulps, unfortunately he doesn’t have time to flirt with a ballerina.

“Wait-” He shakes his head in disbelief. “The first Act starts in less than an hour and we don’t have a lead actress?” A pure disaster, he knew those gentlemen were ticking bombs when he accepted to become the new mécène of the Opera.

“Oh! We have an Elissa.” The girl seems taken aback by his casting question, she glances at the roses in his hand, intrigued. “I thought you were just looking for Carlotta…”

“Who’s playing her?” Jinyoung’s jaw drops, how could they have already replaced a lead soprano?

“Y/n Daae, a ballerina.” She lifts her head and smiles proudly, nearly taking his breath away. “My best friend, we danced for years together. Are those flowers for her?” Jinyoung stares for a long second, his head completely blank.

“Yes…” He breathes out. Y/n, it can’t be you. Jinyoung searched everywhere when he got back home after that. “Y/n you say? A singer?” He shakes his head. You couldn’t possibly have been hiding in here, at a mere 15 minutes by feet of his Paris residence. Impossible.

“Yes, she’s part of the corps de ballet but surprised everybody by stepping up for the role. Excuse me, monsieur, I really have to join the dance crew, now.” The girl turns to leave, but Jinyoung grabs her arm to stop her.

“Wait.” She freezes to stare at the Vicomte’s hand on her white skin, but he doesn’t care about how rude he’s being. “Daae … Is she… Maybe related to the famous violinist?”

“His only daughter.” The girl nods and tilts her head in curiosity when the Vicomte’s face drains of blood. “Do you know her?”

“I…” Jinyoung lets his arm fall back, in shock. He clutches to his roses like his life depends on it. “I don’t t-t-think I have the p-pleasure.”

___

40 minutes to go.

You take a deep breath, studying your own reflexion. You don’t look like yourself. Your hair is held back with some curls falling messily on your bare shoulders and perfectly framing your face. Your eyes look twice their usual size, expertly painted by Meg and your rouge lips stand out the most. The shimmering powder she sprinkled all over your cheekbones, neck and chest makes you appear paler, almost ethereal. The dress you are wearing is probably extremely expensive, you toy the fabric between the tip of your fingers. The only thing you hate about it is the corset, but you must admit it makes your breasts and waist look way better. A blush colors your cheeks when you think this. You shake your head to get rid of your discomfort. You were never one to catch a lot of male gazes, but it’s impossible to deny you look very attractive tonight.

Twirling to see the edges of the dress follow you in the mirror, you try to laugh to calm yourself. Is this what you’d look like if you could have married him? Would you wear shimmering gowns and attend rich, impressive dances regularly? Does he? Your smile dies on your lips. It’s not often that you catch yourself thinking about him. You usually don’t let yourself think about this sort of things.

Thinking only makes you dream of a greater life and dreaming always ends up making you even sadder. But what is tonight if not a crazy dream?

“Are you nervous?” The Voice resonates in your tiny room and you jump, taken aback.

“Yes, very.” You bite your lips, tasting the bitterness of your makeup.

“Don’t be. I’ll be there the whole time.” It pauses, hesitating, and you smile before it goes on. “I’m very proud. You’ll be amazing.” You sigh; already feeling a bit more relaxed by your teacher’s presence.

“You’ll be with me the whole time?”  You ask and bring your fists to your hips, frowning while staring at yourself in the mirror. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.” There’s a hint of amusement in the Voice and the corner of your lips curl into a cunning grin. After five years, you’re almost certain it can see you. It often reacts to your grimaces or what you’re doing. “I’m…” When it goes on, there’s a new longing to it. “I’m always with you.”

You smile with all your teeth this time, you wish for it to be true. You truly want your angel to always be with you. Your lips part to confess to this, but you’re stopped by Meg’s entrance.

“Y/n, are you alone?” She whispers excitedly.

“Meg, what are you doing?” You glance around, nervous she might have heard It. “You should be with the ballet; your mom is going to kill you!”

“I know…” She hovers hesitantly between the half-open door behind her and you. “The new patron of the Opera asked to meet you…” You stop breathing, the new benefactor? Is he angry at you for taking over Carlotta’s part? “I really need to go, but can I let him in?” You nod, taking a deep breath before turning to your mirror, too nervous to look directly at the door.

It’s through the glass that you study him as he walks in, he freezes when his eyes find yours. He stands there, expressionless, unaffected and stoic under your gaze and you must hold your desk to stay up on your feet. He’s dressed very elegantly. His black hair pushed back and a crimson bow tie closes his black shirt, contrasting with his porcelain pale skin. You gasp in surprise, but he simply blinks twice before tilting his head to the side to formally greet you.

“Hi, I’m the Vicomte de Chagny, new benefactor of this Opera House. I wanted to come in and congratulate our lead actress before the beginning of Act I.” His tone is cold; an unfamiliar sound contrasting with his all too familiar features. You just stand there, silenced by shock, that precious voice of yours completely gone You’re vaguely wondering how you’re expected to sing tonight if it never returns when he clears his throat.

“Judging by your welcome, I’m assuming you weren’t aware which county the Vicomte becoming your mécène was from.” He smiles, the gesture looking calculated. “How very amusing, I had no idea the daughter of a musical genius was living her life concealed here. It’s an agreeable coincidence really, I believe my late father was a big admirer of yours.”

You gulp at the hidden bitterness in his words; this is how he chooses to act after all this time. You should be careful, aware of ranks and places.  Still, against better judgement, when you open your mouth, you address him the way you would have 5 years ago.

“I see you’re still a little child, Jinyoung.”

___

You’re phenomenal, he can’t keep from smiling. He’s unsurprised by your triumph tonight, he never expected anything less from you. Still, you’re captivating him. His gaze follows you on stage, hypnotized by your everything. He watches the glitters on your skin catch the light, listen to your voice in wonder and studies the fluidity of your movements.

Tonight, Jaebum’s filled with pride. He can’t think of a happier moment in his drab life than seeing you shine like this. Shine for both of you.

His eyes flicker to the blackness of Box 5, emotions switching abruptly. He’s supposed to be sitting there, comfortably enjoying his show, but instead he sits in his usual spot above the stage. The previous owner of the Opera always left this box empty, at his demand. The new ones though, ignored his letters. It means that Jaebum will have to make sure his legend precedes him, enough for them to do as they’re told by fear of reprisals.

He saw who took his Box, he clenches his jaw, angry; that arrogant new benefactor. Benefactor, he always hated that term. Being born in a high ranked family automatically makes you a good person for spending money you haven’t gained yourself. How tasteless.

Momentarily forgetting about the Opéra, he glares at the dark Box. Who’s that man? There was once a time when Jaebum couldn’t care less about who financed his Theater. Today, however, he finds himself overflown with unhealthy curiosity. He was there when that man interrupted your conversation, hiding behind the one-way mirror in your room. He saw your expression and heard everything, but he still can’t understand what happened.

After you talked back to him, the man left claiming you needed to get ready to go on-stage. He didn’t even leave his roses behind. Jaebum’s eyes narrow. Who does that conceited aristocrat prick think he is? Barging inside your dressing room and disrupting you before your big performance. Even worse, the encounter was wholly inappropriate. Meeting a lady alone in her room is not something a gentleman should be doing, and the stupid blond ballerina left so fast that there was no one to chaperon. What if someone saw him leaving and got bad ideas. He suddenly pales; what if that’s exactly what this disgusting Vicomte was there for? Without really meaning to, he growls under his breath. It wouldn’t be the first time a mécène tries to get intimate with a lead actress. Jaebum won’t allow it, ever.

This Jinyoung embodies everything he isn’t, and he already vehemently hates him for it. He’s rich, lavish, handsome, sheltered…

But worst of all, he seems to belong to your past. You shared something and perhaps he knows a part of you that Jaebum doesn’t.

His eyes dart down to the stage again, he observes you for a long minute.

No, Jaebum won’t allow this man in your life, ever.

L’Opéra [Mini Masterlist] 

[theliterateape]

Muffled in German Luxury

By Paul Teodo & Tom Myers

The following is an excerpt from the forthcoming novel Call Me Z by Paul Teodo and Tom Myers.

I HAD NOTHING TO REPORT, AND NO ONE TO REPORT IT TO. It was barely noon. I lived alone. I hadn’t spoken to my ex in twelve years. My two boys were gone, one in Fiji teaching yoga and meditation, the other living in the city at a job he’d just started. They didn’t need my grief. My dog loved me, but lately I bored him. Most likely when I got home I’d find a pile on the floor to welcome me.

I’d clean out the office later. I found my car in the visitor lot where I always parked. I pressed my fob. Nothing, not a twitch or honk or anything. Again. Nothing. Dead. Just like me. I stabbed the key into the door and twisted the lock open. I slid into the seat. My soggy suit stuck to my chilled skin.

And yes, Rebecca was gone. After four years she left the ring on the nightstand and shut the door. She had pushed for that ring. But we never set the date. Never called me her fiancé. Walked out with a sad look on her face, but not enough sadness to get her to stay. Maybe we weren’t a good fit either. I don’t think it was the drinking. I kept that from her pretty good. And the few times I didn’t she joined in. Her reasons were just as clear as Greta’s. “We’re going nowhere. We don’t communicate. You’re far away and we have no future.” Stuff I knew was more true than not. So instead of fighting for us, I let us drift away.

A triple Dewar’s White Label with a splash of water would go good right now, but I almost had a year. The last time I had that drink I woke up in Mexico, lying on a cot embracing a bearded goat. Turns out I’m not a farm animal kind of guy.  So I wouldn’t let Rebecca’s rejection and the evisceration by Greta with all its accompanying humiliation drive me to the bottle.

I could hear Tommy telling me, “Cunning, baffling, powerful.” He talked like that. He worried too much. He was my sponsor.  

I should call him. I always felt better when I did. He’d chew my ass. But I was sixty, not a kid. And I just got fired.

I started the car. Cold air blasted my legs. I was jumpy, rubbing my hands together, waiting for the warmth. Some idiot was barking on sports talk radio. I didn’t need his big mouth yelling at me. He was trying to make everything sound important or profound, but like he was from the neighborhood. He probably was a media-wise shill from an Ivy League school knocking down a couple hundred K a year selling Viagra to guys who didn’t have anything better to do in the middle of the day. Now I was one of them. How long before I started calling in?

I’ll call Tommy instead. He’d give me his crap, and I’d listen, then feel better, and then he’d throw in, “Let’s go to a meeting.” A meeting was his answer for everything. Sometimes, you know, it’s not. Sometimes, you have to hit the problem between the eyes. He’d always say, “Pause, pray, proceed.” Sometimes, it was just too much. I threw on Puccini’ instead. Tosca. Depressing as hell, full of torture, murder, and suicide, but the music was beautiful.

I backed up my Audi. The white Crown Vic patrol car I signed a requisition for just a few months ago edged closer. For Christ sake, what did Greta think? I was going to go nuts? Randy, the old guy, sat behind the wheel, Brylcreemed hair and weird handlebar mustache. Junior, his sidekick, a steroid pumped, over-caffeinated, blonde kid coiled next to him, ready to jump out of the car. Both carefully watching to make sure I left without incident. Security. Highlands’ finest.

I threw it into gear. Randy and Junior in pursuit. What the hell, give them something to do, I’d liven up their day, and make them earn their money. I drove slowly around the campus heading towards Greta’s office. Would they just follow me or flip on their lights? Training would indicate caution, but no lights. I shouldn’t be doing this. One was old, near retirement, and the other’s juice-strained mind was totally unpredictable. As I exited the campus they looked relieved, staring between the wipers on the Crown Vic. With a nod they each saluted, acknowledging my final departure. I was touched by their deference and disappointed in my behavior.

My phone buzzed. It was stuck inside my wet pants. I yanked it out, ripping my pocket. I flipped it open. “Boss, Joe. What the hell happened?”

“Just wasn’t working out, Joe.”

“You get canned?”

“Did you talk to Jenna?” Joe and Jenna got along. He said he had a daughter that reminded him of her. Gullible and kind of quiet. She and her three kids lived with Joe and his wife. The kids were all under seven. Joe joked that he’d take any overtime he could get just to stay away from the nut-house.

I took a deep breath. Why make it worse for Joe? I was his guy and his misplaced loyalty could screw up his job. He only had three years left to retirement.  “Mutual understanding, Joe. Not my kinda place and Greta agreed. I’ll land on my feet, and things will keep going at The Highlands.”

Joe cleared his throat hard and coughed. He quit smoking years ago but he was still paying for his vice.

“Okay boss, wish you well. Keep in touch. You always had my back.”

“Joe.”

“Yeah?“

“Get that temp down in the OR for our good friend.”

He hacked again. I could see his neck turning red. “Fuck him, boss. And fuck his cold dead wife.”

“Take care, buddy.”

“Keep in touch.”

Nobody keeps in touch.

“I will.”

✶

I DROVE AROUND AIMLESSLY, THE SCOTCH CREEPING BACK INTO MY HEAD. I was done with Puccini. I put “Sona Andati,” the death aria from LaBoheme, into the CD player, trying to distract myself. It didn’t work. I shut it off before I looked for an oven to stick my head in. No real taverns in this town. I needed to call Tommy before I settled on a cocktail lounge attached to a sushi bar. It was noon and the streets were jammed with stylized fashionistas in hybrid SUVs driving their car-seated darlings who’d been born in our Taj Mahal Birthing Center to ballet, voice, or parent-toddler yoga. Having taken advantage of our Women’s Self Improvement Center, they wore their expensive yoga pants with great pride, bejeweled hands wrapped around a caramel low-fat macchiato, designer water bottle at the ready.

I couldn’t drive and dial. Even with this damn flip phone. I pulled into the parking lot of a dog groomer. An eight inch miniature something or other, tethered to a blue spring-loaded leash with a black satin harness, led its mistress towards an Audi A-8.

I pecked at the buttons like a hooded hawk. I could never remember his number. I had it stored in my phone but any attempt at technology made me sweat. First attempt got me a bakery, the next a Chinese woman, and the third an old guy who wanted to talk and didn’t care if it was the wrong number. Finally Tommy picked up. ”State your business.” His usual greeting.

“Tommy.”

“What’s up?”

“You got a minute?”

“You drinkin’?” Every time. Every single time.

“No.”

“Good.”

“It’s not just about drinking.”

“It is with us. We drink. We got no chance. So it’s all about drinking or not drinking. What’s up?”

I felt like throwing the phone out the window. Aiming at the miniature mutt whose shrill bark penetrated like a police whistle.

“What’s that?”

“Dog. Sort of. One of those squawkers.”

“Sounds like it’s being tortured.”

“I wish.” Its mistress lifted the horrible creature into her Audi. It spun in circles on the back seat. She closed the door on its high pitched yap, muffling it in German luxury.

“What happened? Did you shoot it?”

“I got fired.”

“Good. You didn’t belong there. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.”

Asshole. He didn’t even take a breath.

“Okay meet me at the 2 p.m. meeting at the firehouse.”

“No.”

“Really, what you got better to do?”

“No meeting.”

“I’ll meet you at Nina’s Coffee Shop at two.”

“That’s in the city.”

“That’s where you belong.”

Tommy clicked off his phone never giving me a chance to respond to his invite. It wasn’t an invite, it was an order. That’s how he operated. I hated it, and it was good for me. I was soaked. I should change. But if I went home and put on dry clothes I’d never make it by two. It was miles of busted up black top, potholes, trucks, smoke, and congestion. Two hours travel time, minimum. What the hell. I felt like a bum, just getting fired, might as well look like one. I’d fit in fine at Nina’s.

People snaking along this God-forsaken, cruelly misnamed expressway looked like zombies propped up behind the wheel in their seats. How the fuck did they do this every day?

For once the weather-guessers had been right. It had gotten colder and the drizzle turned to sleet. My teeth chattered. I banged on the vent, no evidence of warmth appeared. And my swollen prostate needed a place to piss.

I drove east. The gorilla inside me calling Tommy every vile name it could conjure. Traffic was surprisingly clear when I caught the 355 extension towards the Stevenson. You never let yourself think that in Chicago.  The hell started as the ramp merged. First with the orange signs. Construction. Down to one lane. Forty-five miles-per-hour speed limit. And nobody, not one goddamn person around. Not a hard hat or yellow vest.  Everything blocked off and not a soul carrying out construction.

A bearded, leather-jacketed asshole on a Harley, replete in red bandanna, shades and cigar swept by on the left claiming that all-important extra six feet of travel time, forcing me to jam on my brakes, skid and miss him by only inches. He raised his leather-gloved middle finger as I regained control.

Only thirty miles left.

We crawled through the deserted construction zone never topping fifteen miles-per-hour. My windows fogged. My suit grew musty. Forty minutes later traffic cleared slightly and we reached the breakneck speed of twenty-five miles-per-hour. People snaking along this God-forsaken, cruelly misnamed expressway looked like zombies propped up behind the wheel in their seats. How the fuck did they do this every day?

Eventually the construction cleared, I gunned it and shot between two semis belching smoke. As I passed the Harley, he saluted again. I didn’t wave goodbye. Then a jolt rattled the right side of my car, the vibration like an electrical shock through my hands. Pothole. Shit. The front end continued to shake. The steering wheel danced like it had a mind of its own and was happy with what just happened.

Pull off? Here, in the middle of semi-hell? The shoulders on this road were invitations for death. All I could do was slow down, and proceed. At best I’d wobble into Nina’s with a bent rim and malfunctioning suspension.

I exited at California near the Cook County Jail and immediately came to a stop behind a dirty green articulated bus. Four miles left. Inside the car was now a steam room. Droplets of foul smelling sweat dampened my seat. My disfigured vehicle no longer moved in a straight line, I relaxed my hands on the steering wheel, and tried to catch my breath. I unhinged my jaw which had been locked shut for the past ninety minutes. Just miles from my destination, I was trapped behind the world’s slowest moving vehicle and flanked by a continuous parade of broken cars dragging bumpers, tailpipes, and trailers overflowing with decrepit furniture, soon to be delivered to a home instead of the dumpster where it belonged. I loved this city despite its infamous traffic.

Thank you, Tommy, yeah, this is exactly what I needed.

The bus was a permanent fixture. It wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe it was housing for the homeless. It was definitely a stretch to call it transportation.

I saw an opening, snapped the steering wheel to the left and shot around the bus. The car responded angrily shaking and shimmying as if the front wheels were pointed in different directions.

Proud of myself, I looked in the rear view mirror to see how much distance I had put between me and the bus. My eyes were distracted by blue swirling lights following me. I didn’t need this crap. “Pull over, sir.” The cop’s loudspeaker blared. At least he gave me due respect. It’d been a long time since I’d been called sir by anyone.

I needed a drink. In a real tavern with a sticky stinking bar, dirt on the floor, and people who served you by just nodding their head. I could pull over, slide in, and drift away for days talking with construction workers, the homeless, and hangers on. Or I could be left alone. Those places knew how to leave you the fuck alone.

I momentarily thought of making a run for it. But with a wobbly front end, a foggy windshield, and congested streets I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. I put the bar on hold and adhered to the cop’s order. I slowly guided my damaged car into a lot that serviced a small strip mall containing a currency exchange, a cigarette store, and a beauty salon featuring nails, weaves, and extensions.  A crowd of about a dozen young punks dressed in black, saggy pants defying gravity, some with braided hair, but mostly bald, shuffled about, music blaring, passing joints and bottles in brown paper bags.

Now I was grateful that the squad followed me in.

A freckle-faced redheaded cop exited his vehicle, hand at his side gripping his pistol. The crowd taunting, pointing back and forth between the two of us. The cop’s eyes constantly shifted between me and the group. I rolled down my window “License, registration, and insurance,” he said, eyes on the kids. “Slowly,” he emphasized as I rummaged through my glove box.

Methodically, I pulled the documents from the box and placed each, one by one, into the redhead’s hand. He didn’t belong here, nor did I. His eyes kept a constant scan on the parking lot. The music pounded louder. The wind chilled my still damp body through the open window. “Wait here.” He turned and walked back to his car.

Fucking Tommy. He drags me forty miles from home to a parking lot full of gangbangers. What the hell was I doing?

The young cop returned after running my stuff. He handed me an orange and white citation.  “You can show up in court, or…” both our backs stiffened as the blaring music somehow grew more threatening, “or pay direct. Your choice.”

“Thanks.” I said. My window swiftly rising, providing a false sense of security.

He began to leave. He turned, “and your front end is out of whack. If you’re gonna be driving around here, you need a car that works.”

No shit. I acknowledged his advice with a wave through my closed window.

I studied the ticket. Improper lane use. $125. Do not send cash. Lucky me.

I eased slowly through the lot to return to the street.  The kids didn’t move. My car wobbled even more. “Better get that fixed.” One of them laughed and kicked at the front end. I hit the gas and sped out of the lot.

Finally I pulled up to Nina’s. Soaked from the elements and my own fear. I exited my damaged vehicle spotting Tommy through the dirty window sitting alone at a table, his starched white collar peeking from under his gray hooded sweat shirt, his foot tapping to the beat of Wilson Pickett. He was fidgeting with the menu, his gnarled hands scarred from years in the ring.

I rushed in, the bell above the door jingling, my prostate screaming for a bathroom. I made a bee-line for the toilet. He looked up. “Any trouble getting here?”

[djzatitagain]

Rising Up-Chapter 1

 In the world of Aria, there are six kingdoms that rule the world; Aquarine, Kingdom of Mermaids; EverWinter, Kingdom of Elves; GreenFlower, Kingdom of Fairies; Grimsby, Kingdom of Druids and Winged Folk; IronForge, Kingdom of Humans; and Aynor, Kingdom of Darkness. Each kingdom had their own domains and their own rules. But they all had one rule that was the same; At the age of twelve years, a child must visit The Fates, three old women that have lived since the beginning, to find their destiny. The Fates do not choose sides in war or anything else, they are not evil yet they are not good they do what it takes to keep the world in balance.

 They lived peacefully until one day Aynor became corrupted and waged war on the other kingdoms. After long bloody battles Aynor lost the war and retreated to the mountains to the west of Grimsby. Then they lived in peace once again. There was over fifty years of peace, but darkness is rising again. The Fates know that the future of this world depends on twenty tweens and their destinies.

* * *

Zoe pulled the string of her bow, aiming at the plump rabbit on the forest floor. She had to be silent otherwise it would scare the prey away. Zoe looked down for a split second, it was a ten foot drop. One misstep and a broken leg would be in Zoe's destiny.

  A rustling noise came from behind Zoe, in one swift motion Zoe pointed her bow and arrow at a messy blonde haired guy her age's forehead. His eyes widen in fear and surprise. Zoe sighs and shoots the rabbit through the head as it leapt away, pinning it to a tree, without looking behind her. The guy let out a small "Woah." at this action.

 "What is it, Garroth?" Zoe asked, putting her bow onto her back and her remaining arrows back in her quiver.

 "I was told to get you to get ready to go to The Fates' Mountain." Garroth said, starting to climbing back down the tree.

 "That's today!" Zoe yelped, climbing after him. She had forgotten that today was that day.

 "Yep. Come on." Garroth yells as he starts running back to town. Zoe grabs the rabbit and follows him. They reach the small town of Amtu in a nick of time. As they walk in they see a small family sitting in a small messy home without a door, Zoe could count the parents' ribs. Garroth stopped and saw the family, he and Zoe look at each other and the plump rabbit in Zoe's hand and nodded to each other.

 Zoe goes up the mother and hands her the rabbit. The woman is stunned, "T-Thank you kind miss!" She stuttered out.

 "No problem, I love to help!" Zoe replies. She turns around to get back to Garroth but she feels a hand on her shoulder so she turns back around to face the woman.

 "Take this" The woman held out a necklace with a small purple rock traced with a green metal, "As a token of my gratitude." The woman puts it around Zoe's neck. "This will guide you on the right path but be careful, there are thieves that would kill for it." She warned.

 "Thank you, I will be careful." Zoe says breathlessly, she was stunned at the beauty of the necklace. She joined Garroth again. He noticed the necklace immediately.

 "Woah." He muttered, a calm amazed expression was plastered onto his face. "Did she give that to you?" He asked.

 Zoe lifted it up, responding, "Yes. Isn't it-"

 "Beautiful, Mystical, Breathtaking." Garroth interrupted her staring at the necklace.

 "Yes." Zoe replied. As they started to walk to their houses, Zoe could feel something behind her, but when she turned around to face the person she felt behind her she saw no one.

* * *

 Thorin swooped down through the air at an asleep tween elf below, screeching "WAKE UP, IANITE! IT'S THE DAY!" in her ear. Ianite jumped away and looked at Thorin.

 "Dude. What the hay." She yawned.

 "Come on it's time for the Fatessssssssssssssssssssssssss." Thorin wined.

 "I get that you’re excited but we are leaving in an hour." Ianite grumped.

 "I bet I could reach the other side of town before you can." Thorin challenged her as he flew off to the other side of town.

 Ianite sighs, "Why do I even hang out with him?" she asks herself as she flies after him. Ianite honestly loved flying, the view of the land from above was amazing, the rush of adrenaline was better than misery, it's a great way to travel, it's easier to attack from above, and the wind hitting your wings was an amazing feeling.

 Ianite reached the other side of town and sat down in a tree as Thorin arrived to the tree she sat it. He looked at Ianite in surprise and anger. "You cheated!" He accused, pointing his pointer finger at her face.

 "No, I didn't." She says calmly, taking step back.

 "You did, too! You know you cheated so just agree with me!" He yelled, stepping closer to her.

 "Hey, if I agree with you, then we will both be wrong" Ianite said slyly, Thorin freezes for a second trying to figure out what she just said, Ianite took this time to fly into the air and away from Thorin.

 As Ianite flew over a small wooded area she heard a shriek, she scanned the area to find the source of the shriek. The source was a woman with a baby being attacked by something that Ianite had only heard of, an imp. She thought that imps stayed in the mountains of fear but she pushed that thought away as she swooped down in front of the woman and her child, pulling her short sword out.

 The imp looked at Ianite growling and hissing as it circled her, the woman, and child. Ianite expanded her wings to make her look bigger than it. The imp squealed and mewled at this and leaped at her left wing. Pain shot through Ianite as the imp bit her wing with great strength.

 Ianite flew up into the air with the imp still on her, she shook it off her wing and stabbed it through the heart. The imp twitched as it fell to the ground. Ianite lowered as she saw it die, took her sword out of it's chest, and turned to the woman but there was no one there.

 The woman had fled, a wise decision. "Hibakuni ty" Ianite muttered the healing spell. A green mist covered Ianite's injured wing, when the mist cleared, Ianite's wing was healed. Ianite flew up into the air and started to fly back to Lagi, her home.

* * *

 Roman carried an armful of wood to his father, nearly bouncing off the walls he was so excited for today. He started to ponder what his destiny was. He could be a king! No maybe a guard for a king! Anything was fine as long as he wasn't evil! He despised villains with everything atom in his body. Roman snaps back to reality right as he walked straight into a tree.

 His father laughed a little and helped him up, saying, "I know you're excited but you need to watch where you're going if you want to be a knight or adventurer."

 "I know!" Roman remarked, picking the wood back up.

 "My Child! My Child is missing!" A distressed Mother shrieked running around in search of her child. Roman throws the wood to his father and ran up to the distressed Mother.

 "Where did you last see them, ma'am!?" Roman questioned her after calming down her down.

 "I last saw my little girl near the forest playing with a squirrel! I turned around for a second and then she was gone!" The distressed Mother answered.

 "I'll go find you daughter, ma'am." Roman calmly told her before he started to run to the forest.

 "Her name is Eliza!" The distressed mother yelled to Roman as he slipped out of sight.

 Leaves and branches of the forest floor's flora rubbed against Roman's legs and arms as he ran through the forest in search of Eliza. After a few minutes of running, Roman realized that he had no clue where Eliza was and he was now lost. The silence around Roman was suffocating but suddenly a young cry slice through the silence.

 Roman dashed in the direction of the cry, after a minute he reached a clearing. In the middle of the clearing there was a giant tree, lightning bugs flew all around it, vines climbed down to the ground from the top of the tree. In one the branches that reached for the sky a little girl with chestnut hair held on to it for dear life, an arrow sticking out of the wood.

 A second arrow hit the branch getting closer to the kid's hands, the kid's right hand slips making their small left hand the only thing keeping them from falling. Roman rushed underneath the girl and told her, "LET GO! I'LL CATCH YOU!"

 The little girl's left hand slipped also. Roman caught her as she plummeted downwards. Roman saw a girl his age with a bow frown and disappear into the shadows of the forest. Roman set the girl onto the ground and started to kindly question her, "Are you Eliza?" The little girl nodded. "What happened?"

 "I was following a squirrel and they lead me here but suddenly a girl about your height shot the squirrel. I climbed into the tree as they pointed their bow on me. And they were shooting at me with the bow." Eliza explained

 "Let's get you back to your mother. She was worried sick for you." Roman pick Eliza up onto his shoulders and started to sprint back to the large village of Cucu.

* * *

 Liberty shot through the crowd dragging her friend, Travis, behind her. They were late for the ceremony that their village had for the kids that were twelve and heading off to The Fates' Mountain and their destinies.

 "Where are Liberty FrostGazer and Travis WildWind?" The man standing in front of about ten other kids announced.

 "Here!" Travis yapped, raising his hand up. The crowd of adults separated giving them a path to the stage. As they walk down it, Liberty feels the crowd's glares burning the back of her head. The whole village hated her and thought that she was a bad influence on Travis. Honestly she agreed with them, Travis was the most innocent and good hearted person ever and she was 'evil'.

 Sometimes Liberty wished that she could have been like everyone else instead of the 'demon' she is. But it is too late to change.

* * *

 Oliver heaved his bag over his shoulder and stepped into the line to the carts that all of the village's twelve year olds were going to ride in to The Fates' Mountain. He could hear laughter behind him. Before he could turn around he felt a furry paw on his back push him to the ground.

 A couple girls nearby shrieked at the beast on top of Oliver. There a small for its species dire wolf on Oliver. "Vikiba nutakila" Oliver muttered summoning his mage hand. His mage hand picked the wolf up off him and placed him in a tree and picked up his books that spilled out of his bag.

 Oliver stood up and looked at the tree at a guy his age named Zander in there instead of the wolf. His mage hand put Zander down and disappeared. Zander sneered, saying "Magic won't save you next time."

 "You're right." Oliver said, causing Zander to look confused. "Because there won't be a next time." Oliver continued as he stepped into a cart with several of the girls.

 "You know he is going to kill you." One of the girls, Leona, stated in an unimpressed tone of voice.

 "I know but he isn't going to succeed in that mission of his." Oliver replied.

 "That was an interesting spell, Oliver." Another girl, Selene, said.

 "Mage hand is very useful." Oliver responded.

 "True, True." Selene agreed.

* * *

 Thaniel sat down in another cart with his friends: Laurence, Ann, Diana, and Titus. "So what to you want your destiny to be? I want to be a warrior that would be known for eons." Titus started the conversation.

 "I want s-something nice and quiet. Like maybe being a librarian." Ann stuttered.

 "Lame! I want to be a legendary bowmen!" Diana retorted.

 "But you're a girl!" Titus responded jokingly.

 "So! I can still be a bowmen!" Diana countered. "What do you want to be, Thaniel?"

 Thaniel never thought about it until now. What did he want to be? "Friends with all of you still." He answered. "Anyways, Laurence what do you want to be?"

 Laurence sat in the back of the cart, he didn't respond for a minute or two. But when he did he calmly replied, "A farmer."

 "Really? Don't you want to be something that is more exciting than being a farmer!" Diana suggested.

 "No, there is already too much excitement in my lifetime." Laurence replied, tiredness tranced his words. He turned away from the others and started to sleep.

 "We should all rest, today is a big day and it takes an hour to get there." Ann says, falling asleep too. We all stayed up last night because we were too excited to sleep.

 "I agree." Thaniel fell asleep also. But Diana and Titus continued to talk to each other.

* * *

 Ozara swam up to the beach with her fellow mermaids to meet with the fairies to get to The Fates' Mountain. As they reached the shallows of where the land meets the water, their tails turned to legs and their underwater clothes turned to dresses and suits of armor.

 Tiny little lights flew up to them and became people with beautiful yet delicate wings. Ozara walked up to a short fairy with pink hair and orange eyes, saying, "It's nice to see you again, Flori." Flori hugged Ozara, saying, "I see you dyed your hair purple!"

 "Do you like it?" Ozara asked her friend.

 "Yes, it looks amazing!" Flori replied.

 "Let’s get going! We don't want to be late!" Ozara said as she started to run. "I'll race you, Fairy Wing!"

 "You're on, Fish lips!" Flori replied flying into the air after her.

* * *

 Steve and Sage leaped from tree to tree to keep up with their village's group. They were filled with determination, they had been waiting their whole lives for today. Other villages' groups came into sight. They leaped into a cart and sat down.

 "What do you want to be, Sage?" Steve said, looking to his childhood friend.

 "Hm. I don't care as long as we're still friends, you?" Sage replied.

 "An assassin." Steve said.

 "That sounds fun." Sage claimed. "Killing people and being feared sounds amazing."

 "Yep." Steve agreed.

* * *

Finished!! Hope you Enjoyed, Reader! I will make art of the characters and behind the scenes, and funny things for this series!

[goodailynews]

When someone suggested to composer Max Lambert that Missy Higgins might be interested in performing in his musical Miracle City, his response was words to the effect of "In your dreams", recalls director Darren Yap. But Higgins was indeed interested. What's more, the ARIA award-winning singer-songwriter didn't expect any special treatment. .................................................................................................. [HOT] Ex-Lakers star Kobe Bryant returns to spotlight at Hollywood Bowl : ♫ https://youtu.be/YzzvDqB2-V8 [HOT] Justin Timberlake 'Is Finalizing' Deal to Perform at Super Bowl Halftime : ♫ https://youtu.be/7xMxj9Tl7S4 [HOT] Games Inbox: Best female games character, Metroid: Samus Returns ending, and Destiny 2 mainte: ♫ https://youtu.be/vIV_Y6ya9iA [HOT] Savannah Guthrie Weighs In on Megyn Kelly's First Week : ♫ https://youtu.be/_jiiBC5xEDw [HOT] Khloe Kardashian & Kylie Jenner Planning *beep*y Pregnant *beep* Photo Shoot : ♫ https://youtu.be/nIQNUmtLSgg .................................................................................................. SUBSCRIBE: https://goo.gl/Gd5aaC FACEBOOK: https://goo.gl/ybp8jQ TWITTER: https://goo.gl/o24hEF ✖ Follow GOO Daily News channel(SUBSCRIBE) to look for that. GOO Daily News - New videos evreyday! MONDAY - SUNDAY. Thanks for watching! Background music video is allowed by FreeBackgroundMusic. Please visit their channel to view more: FreeBackgroundMusic: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzdbJ_mnXo5tf-4hVNgJ5Wg Thank you! .................................................................................................. ...[continued]... istair Thomson) is staging a new production in the Sydney Opera House Studio, also helmed by Yap. Miracle City tells the story of a US televangelist family, Ricky and Lora-Lee Truswell and their two children. In front of the cameras, all is praise-the-lord, cheesy joy. But behind the scenes a dark story unfolds. Ricky is bankrupt. Possible salvation arrives in the form of filthy rich, fire-and-brimstone preacher Millard Sizemore - but he wants something shocking in return. Higgins' involvement in the show is a case of 'the planets lining up', says Yap. 'I didn't know Missy, though I knew of her, but one of my dearest friends Emma Callaghan is the assistant director of Miracle City, and her cousin is Missy's manager, so she said she'd ask.' 'And Emma used to be my neighbour too, so it was all serendipity,' adds Higgins. Higgins made her acting debut in the 2009 musical film Bran Nue Dae and loved the experience. 'Ever since then I've been thinking that I would like to do something again. And my husband is a playwright too, so I've been involved on the sidelines, but as a spectator. His name is Dan Lee, he's kind of a new playwright (and) he's just had a play of his (Grey Nomad) open in Los Angeles,' says Higgins. 'I had been really keen to get back into acting and especially try a musical because I grew up on musicals. My parents took me to Phantom Of The Opera, Les Miserables, Cats, Rent, Starlight Express and Fiddler On The Roof so I grew up with soundtracks of musicals playing in my house.' As Bonnie-Mae (played in the Hayes production by Esther Hannaford who is now starring in Beautiful), Higgins gets to sing one of the show's most famous and beautiful songs I'll Hold On. 'I just fell in love with that song, and since then I've fallen in love with all the music

[henry33tan]

Start Something

In the summer of 2010, I received a mid-career leadership internship for mid-career professionals (sadly, I’m no longer an emerging artist) at Tapestry Opera in Toronto. As I was currently in the middle of figuring out whether I wanted to be a collaborative pianist, piano teacher, blogger, or go some other direction in arts leadership, I jumped at the opportunity and showed up in early July ready to learn. After the first few days of getting to know processes and procedures in the front office at Tapestry, Wayne Strongman, the founder and Artistic Director at the time, took me aside for a private talk. Wayne explained that as part of my internship that summer, he would like me to start a project. Deciding on what the project would actually be would be part of the project, as well as creating a business and implementation plan for its inclusion in the 2010-11 season. “And by the way.” he continued. “We have no money to spare for your project, so it will have to be self-sustaining from the start.” Given these tricky conditions, I got to work right away. Since I had played for countless workshops and performances over the previous 8 seasons, I had a wide knowledge of Tapestry's current repertory, as well as a slightly less than clear idea of the productions that they had mounted from the late 70’s to 2002 when I first started coaching at the company. My idea was twofold: to start a Tapestry Songbook program that would feature arias from Tapestry’s unique repertory, as well as, through New Opera 101, giving emerging pianists and singers the opportunity to coach with experienced pianists and singers to get a feel of the lay of the land. Because the skill set of the pianists and singers who worked for the company (including Jennifer Tung, Carla Huhtanen, Alex Dobson, Krsztina Szabó, and Keith Klassen and myself) was unique, there was some concern that as Tapestry's performing artists became more busy in the profession and would no longer be able to devote time to do workshops and performances as they had in the past, it would be difficult to find singers and pianists that were a fit in the high stakes game of new opera. Sadly, that's  exactly what happened to me, as I became busier with piano teaching, examining, curriculum development and examiner training at the RCM, so the time that I had to commit to Tapestry in subsequent years became less and less. But getting back to the story... The first step was to compile the entire aria and duet repertory of the company from its roots to the present day. In order to find all the relevant scores, I had to not only dig through Tapestry's office space, but catalog all the operas and opera scenes in an organized manner. So I learned how to catalog things. In order to keep an organized record of what I found, a database was needed to keep track of every aria and duet in the history of the company's commissioned works. So I learned how to compile a database. I scheduled a two-day workshop in Tapestry's Ernest Balmer Studio the following week so I could read through the entire commissioned repertory of the company's history. I'm glad I paid attention in Marie Rolf's Advanced Keyboard Skills classes back at Eastman - contemporary opera features a lot of difficult scores. At the end of the process, a continuing program was created that is now an annual part of the company's concert and workshop season. Through multiple income streams (singers + pianists pay for a two-day YAP that has a paid concert at the end which donors can also sponsor), I planned on the program's need for financial independence from the start so it could be up and running from the first season. I'm thrilled to see that the New Opera 101/Tapestry Songbook is yet again running in February 2017, this time featuring mezzo soprano Krisztina Szabó, tenor Keith Klassen, and pianist Steven Philcox as both clinicians and performers. The collaborative energy between clinicians and young artists is always palpable in the New Opera 101/Tapestry Songbook, and I'm glad that the next generation of artists will be able to contribute to the new opera field what we were able to contribute so many years back. But it's important to remember that the project's lack of initial funding ended up being an advantage in the end through the act of synthesizing and reworking a new opera company's existing repertory. ------------------------------- The reason I'm writing this story is a bit more serious. I understand that this is a difficult time for both performing artists, teachers, and arts organizations, especially with the anticipated federal arts cuts in the United States. I regularly receive emails for help from pianists who have finished their graduate work and are absolutely unable to successfully enter any young artist program or teaching position. There are simply too many pianists for too few positions. I also receive calls for help from teachers from collaborative piano programs who are unable to fill their programs. There simply might be too many collaborative piano programs (especially at smaller state and private institutions) for not enough pianists who are interested in entering the field. Nevertheless, even though the profession might have too many program openings for a body of graduates who are chasing down a shrinking number of quality positions in the field, there's another avenue open to everyone: Start something. In the classical music field, there's an assumption that you'll never work unless you get past the gatekeepers - unless you've graduated from the right university program with the right teacher, have gone to the right summer programs, and have made the connections with the right people. I disagree with that line of thought. In the world of classical music, chamber music, opera, art song, piano pedagogy, and interdisciplinary performance, there's always space for new blood, new initiatives, new organizations. They just need people who are interested in breaking new ground. And if you're the one that starts the initiative (that might just feature you as a performing artist), then it's a sure-fire way to get people to know who you are and what you do. And if you can upload the performance to social media and (even better) hire some folks along the way, you've got a great way to raise your stock value in the profession. The important thing is that you set the conditions by which your own skills and professionalism will shine through. So I reiterate: Start something.

from The Collaborative Piano Blog http://collaborativepiano.blogspot.com/2017/01/start-something.html