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han-made-bookbinding · 3 years

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Music: Miniature Board

“Music” Miniature Board Commissioned as part of a series on the same theme by Neale Albert, New York, USA. Measuring 3 inches square Made in 2020

This series of boards was inspired by a collection of full size boards which Neale Albert was shown during a trip to George Bayntuns in Bath in 2018. The boards he saw had all been made by members of Designer Bookbinders for a separate project on the theme of Architecture. This project gave Neale the idea for a new project: a series of miniature designer bound boards on the theme of music, three inches (7.62 centimetres) square in size. In early 2019 myself and a number of other binders were asked to participate in this project. Each binder was given total control of the design of their piece (as usual for Neale's commissions) the only common ground between them was to be the size and the musical theme.

Neale started collecting dolls house miniatures in the mid-1980's, which then progressed to commissioning miniature reproductions of his favourite things leading eventually to having entire miniature rooms made for him. But of course miniature rooms need miniature things to go into them, and naturally when Neale's second room project was going to be the library at Cliveden House in the UK he needed miniature books for the shelves! Initially these were blank books purchased at doll house shows until he discovered the world of real miniature books with real type and real illustrations.

I believe that this was the start of Neale's passion for collecting miniature bindings, commissioning bookbinders from around the world to create miniature books for him. Over 250 of Neale's bindings are illustrated in the 2008 publication, “The Neale M. Albert Collection of Miniature Designer Bindings: A Catalogue of an Exhibition Held at the John Rylands Library 4 June – 18 October 2008”, and he has commissioned many more since then too.

When I considered the theme my thoughts naturally turned to cellos as I played the cello up until the age of 20. I made it all the way up to Grade 8 (which seems unbelievable to me now as I can barely remember how to read music anymore!) and was a member of both the orchestra at my secondary school as well as a local music centre. I started learning the cello when I was at primary school - here I am on the far right!

I was also part of a record breaking attempt in 1998 and made it into the local paper (below on the right!). Nearly 4000 young musicians got together at the National Indoor Arena in Birmingham along with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and the conductor Sir Simon Rattle to perform Sir Malcolm Arnold’s Suite No.2, along with school children from all over the country - we successfully broke the previous record of 2212 musicians!

Sadly leaving home to go to university was the end of my cello playing as I decided I didn't want to take such a large instrument away with me. It sat in the cupboard at my parents house for many years however I am pleased to say that it has finally gone to a new owner and is being played again.

As luck would have it a neighbour of mine is a luthier, based in Somerset and specialising in cellos. Kai-Thomas Roth was born in Germany. From the age of eight he knew he wanted to become a violinmaker and made his first instrument at the age of thirteen. After training as a cabinetmaker in Switzerland he came to England to study at the Newark School of Violin Making. Following work experience in the trade he established with his wife Caroline Crowley their business as makers of fine instruments of the violin family in 1990.

Below: Head of Baroque cello, No 103, after Guadagnini (Photo Credit: Kai-Thomas Roth Instgram account @kaithomasrothcellos)

Specialising exclusively in making bowed stringed instruments all experience and expertise gained since 1986 are concentrated on the manufacture of these intricate complex artefacts. For that reason Kai-Thomas neither has a shop nor employees and he does not deal in old instruments or undertake repairs. This puts him amongst the few makers who immerse themselves completely in creating instruments but amazingly he's never played the instrument he so lovingly creates!

I approached Kai to ask whether he had any technical drawings of cellos that I might borrow to base the design of my board on. What he lent me was a drawing of a “Violoncello Piccolo” made by Johann Christian Hoffmann in Leipzig in 1732. This instrument belongs to the Museum of Musical Instruments of Leipzig University and the maker was in Leipzig at the same time as Johann Sebastian Bach. This violoncello is a small cello that would be played braced against the shoulder rather than between the legs. This instrument is also a five-string version of the instrument, standard cellos have just four strings.

The inner board was made up as I would make up the board for a binding. Two 1mm think squares of Gemini board were glued together, with a piece of kraft paper glued on the inner side of the board and two layers of 145gsm water colour paper to the outside. Once dry the outside face of the board was bevelled using sandpaper.

The front of the board is covered in “Colvert” coloured bull skin from the Remy Carriat Tannerie in France, this was edge pared for the turn-ins using my Brockman paring machine and then further pared with a rounded scalpel blade. The bull skin is very stretchy and difficult to pare with a conventional paring knife so I have found through experimenting that I get the best result using a scalpel with a size 23 Swan Morton blade in it.

I traced the scroll section of the cello, including the top peg, onto some paper and transferred this onto the back of the leather I chose to use for the board. I then embroidered a series of individual short lines in a variety of colours of cotton thread to break up the uniform blue of the leather. These stitches were done around the outline of where the scroll was going to sit on the board.

The leather was then pasted to the board, turned in and left to dry. I then cut out the outline of the cello scroll (within the line of stitches) and peeled this away to leave a void. I used two varieties of veneer (Rosewood and Elm), which I backed onto card to give extra thickness and strength, cutting them out very carefully with a sharp scalpel so that they exactly matched the void that they needed to fill.

They were glued in place using PVA glue and held with small clips whilst the glue dried to ensure that they dried flat. Where the veneer met the edge of the board I bevelled the veneer to match the profile of the leather as it thinned towards the edges.

I forgot to take too many photos of how I built up the detail on the veneered sections of the board (I was enjoying this part too much and forgot!), but I drilled small holes right through the board using a fine drill bit in my Dremel and added outlines using thread sewn through these holes. I also added a thin wash of acrylic paint to some areas of the veneer to add an appearance of shading and depth to the surface, plus I also included some detail in gold leaf to jolly up the design!

Finally, I used thin gold wire that was also passed through more small holes drilled in the board to depict the cello string wound round the topmost peg. The wire was passed through the board and embedded into the reverse before being covered with the infill on the back of the board.

Once the back of the board had been infilled and built up it was time to work on the design for the back of the board. I cut a small piece of vellum to 3 inches square and traced another part of the cello technical drawing onto the reverse of it using a light box. This section included part of the F hole and the bridge that supports the strings.

I was then able to use these lines as a guide for embroidering the design using the same colours of thread as used on the front of the board.

I also used some gold leaf and small elements of the “Colvert” bull skin to match what I had used on the front of the board.

The back of the board was built up with a couple of layers of Zerkall paper and sanded flat. Once the vellum was complete I stuck it down to the back of the board and left it to dry, making sure I rubbed it down all over to ensure it stuck down properly.

And so we had a completed board! All that was left to do was to add my signature and a small number annotation to the vellum back of the board then it was photographed and posted over to join the other boards in New York. This was a very pleasurable little project to work in in amongst other commissions and I was pleased to reminisce back to my more musical days!

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larryfanficcatalog · 3 years

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Enemies To Lovers

Walk That Mile (150k)

Summary: A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

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Summary: It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

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Summary: Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

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You’re An Asshole (But I Love You) (86k)

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Love Is A Rebellious Bird (135k)

Summary: AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

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#larry #larry stylinson #larry stylinson fanfiction #one direction #harry styles #louis tomilson #liam payne #niall horan #zayn malik

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 26

Five feet off the ground in a grand jete you could catch the sliver of light backstage hinting that another person had snuck into your set. All week among the other cast members from Elektra Jennifer Garner took to watching your dance numbers thrilled to see just how talented the littlest of the extras actually was off set. For Daredevil in café’s you had been building some interest as a stray kitten had taken to you. A slipped pet here and at the first roll of thunder the kitten came onto set through the fake street and into the café luring attention from the other extras and main pair of actors at its trot to your costumed self to climb to your shoulder and burrow in your hair. Spending each day since following you about until you took it home to the ranch with you to keep it safe.

Hours you had been here and this was the third number you had filmed, out of the eight numbers you were doing well on time and were due for another before being sent home for the others to film their roles on the secondary sets. Again Richard was in the audience, merely with a camera aimed at him recording his reactions while his gangly self ‘snuck’ into the shows that the ringmaster would end each number by shouting at you.

Changing again you sat on your makeup chair pressing your thumbs into the sides of your left hamstring feeling the same twinge you had felt for the past two days. Inches from tearing your muscle the filming of your non dance scenes in the first half of the film had been recorded after a slipped chord from a fight scene for Elektra had you on the verge of tears and on a crutch to rest your leg. The doctor had cleared you to work, unlike the other stunt man who fractured his collar bone when his wiring failed as well. For what you loved about the film the endless strain of the ballet side of this had you deciding that your last touring show for ballet was just that, your last. Another film could be tolerated but the endless weeks of shows would have to stop if it could end up weakening your body in other roles requiring you to be at your peak.

Everything hurt but with a helping of some heating cream the muscle loosened up and you were able to complete the day. Once changed however if your decision hadn’t already been made you felt relieved to find a voicemail on your phone from your grandparents hoping that you would focus on films before you did face an injury like your grandfather had nearly lost his own career to. They fully agreed dance films were acceptable but the near possible break or worse to your leg had them rethinking their plans for you knowing the pain of those injuries all too well.

Wrapped with a heating pad and elevated in an empty chair the leg rested while you watched Richard and your father pull dinner together. Again Richard glanced your way asking, “Feeling better?”

“Little bit. Oh, I got a call earlier.” That had the pair looking your way, “Babu and Babushka about my leg, suggesting I retire from performing ballet.”

Your Father settled a hand on the counter, “Wow. Never thought I’d hear that.”

You shrugged, “They remember their own injuries and with it being my lower leg that could have been worse they think it best if I stick to ballet films and not full touring shows.”

Richard, “Are you okay with that?”

You nodded, “Funny thing is I was thinking it through the morning, and then on lunch I got the message.”

Your father nodded, “Have you called them back?”

“Not yet, no they said they had to be up early for a fundraiser. I’ll call them on their tomorrow at a reasonable hour.”

Richard nodded and asked, “Any word from Lee yet?”

“Uh, nope, after that screen test thing he said he was off to the airport.”

Your father asked, “To where?”

You shrugged, “No clue. He is a man of mystery this month and up to something. I hope it’s a role ‘cuz he’s been a bit, not off but just, distant I guess since hearing about the filming here.”

Richard chuckled saying, “My guess being he’s planning on visiting. Oklahoma’s not far, right?”

Your father shook his head, “Bout half a day drive depending on how far you want to go. Does he know where we live?”

“I, don’t know. Think so, he mentioned sending a snow globe or something.”

Your father chuckled and said, “We’ll keep an eye open for any teens lurking about.”

While days were spent filming nights were all your own. A special request while word you had worked with Howard Shore in the last minute drop of the uncooperative sound crew you were hired. Now on top of acting, singing, playing the violin and dancing lead the score was now yours. Though it didn’t come out of nowhere as you had provided the music for the dance numbers while in the first rehearsals before filming when the former crew had all but refused to grant the director anything to work with beyond a metronome beat. Just like before hums were not foreign on set and even Richard found himself joining in while you kept notepad on hand to write down all you had popping into your head.

Distraction was needed while word spread that Daredevil would be split into two films, one for him and another for Elektra and there was so much doubt on how little your part would be dwindled to if visible at all. Alternating day and night shoots often found you here in the music room, up with violin in hand or at the piano playing to a cassette recorder singing along the words you came up with. In Russian, French and Gaelic you would sing with a fourth you hummed, both operatic and lullabies to barely over a whisper. Each helped through with lyrics by Richard and your father when hearing you were stuck.

The best song though, the one you loved came out like air and sent chills down the spines of all who heard it on the business side of the film beside the beaming Director, even in the rough cut needed to be rerecorded in an actual studio. Down Below, My Bedfellow, the name of the soaring signature song played in your ride away to the new future at the end of the film. A duet with Richard he worked his way into by bringing over his cello he had sent for from England weeks prior to sit up and play with you, adoringly filling in more blanks on the song from his own heart. More time, that was what it was, even when joined in on by your father who copied note for note the song as you wrote it notes and all, simply beaming at the love song dripping with the love and adoration you shared on and off the screen. Soon enough it all was re-recorded in studio topped off with a full choir your family was all to eager to join to bring your project to life alongside the full orchestra to fill in the rest of the score as well led by you.

All this while you were given more snippets in Daredevil, even to the point where you were in the background at the big fancy party right before Elektra’s father is killed. Fittings for that however put your groggy humming self in the path of Colin Farrell alongside another for your stewardess costume, an extra role making you a blonde and granting you a couple lines at least confirmation by the Director you would not be cut at least entirely from the division of the original film. Also confirming that in said groggy interactions with Colin you had made another friend who was altogether impressed on how you could go from napping to bright eyed and bubbly for the action call at the drop of a hat. A friendship ending with a trading of emails, due to his frequency of changing his number, when schedules split you up again making lunches or dinners as a group were impossible to manage.

Sure enough while you received the third call of the day concerning the About A Boy premier the next day the doorbell had your head tilting to the door that your father had stood up from his place reading on the couch while Richard toweled off from his shower to wash off the makeup from his neck and face. “Oh man.” The words had you smirking but not as much as the voice saying them.

Softly you sighed hearing the voice through the phone still speaking to another in the room for the third try to somehow argue that you would somehow be able to fly out to England and make the premier anyways starting in ten hours. They hung up promising to work some magic making you roll your eyes and toss your phone onto the couch by your feet to lay your arms over your face tilting your head back a moment onto the arm of the chair you were lounging in after work. “Long day?”

Easing your arms down your head turned in your lifting twist to stand up for a hug from Lee, who melted around you, “There you are, trying to be all sneaky.”

“Hey,” he said pulling back, “How else am I supposed to keep you on your toes?” After stealing a glance at your father on his way to the kitchen, he whispered, “You never said he was so big, and your uncles are all the same size, went to the big house first and they sent me here.”

“Well they won’t eat you.” You giggled out making him smile wider at you, “You drove all the way here?”

“Yes, only have a week off,”

Your father came back with handfuls of sodas he passed one each to the two of you and sat down again in his former spot luring Lee to sit on the end near your chair, “Good, if you need a place to crash you are welcome here. Got the spare Murphy bed in the office.” Glancing your way he opened his soda asking, “Everything alright on the phone Pumpkin?”

“Ah, just someone trying to reverse the rotation of the earth so I could somehow make a flight to London and be there for the premier in ten hours while also being on set tomorrow out here. Said they’d work some magic.”

Lee chuckled asking, “Which premier is this one?”

“The one with Hugh Grant, About A Boy, I’m just one of the random single moms he dates there barely a week I doubt I’ll be a huge blip on screen. Anyways there’s one in New York in two weeks if they insist while I’m off out there for the Enough film with Jennifer Lopez.”

Lee, “You’re working, how could they be mad for you missing it?”

You shrugged again taping your nail on the top of your soda, “Who knows. Highly doubt I could have any significant chunk of the film with a week of footage. I mean, there’s Hugh, the kid, the kid’s mom and a future girlfriend, Rachel something. That’s the main cast. Love interest number four, can’t be that-,”

Richard came out and smirked patting Lee’s shoulder, “Had a hunch you were dropping in on us.”

Lee grinned at his move to claim your soda and open it for you, to spare your fake nails still on from the set, then pass it back on his way to get a drink himself and sit down between Lee and your father. “How could I miss a chance to see you guys again. And I do have to say,” looking at you he said pointing at you, “I’ve seen Lord of the Rings five times. Can’t help it and can’t wait for it to be out on tape.”

Richard chuckled, “You and me both, and eventually there will be an extended cut edition as well with extra scenes I am waiting for.”

Lee smiled at you asking, “How is filming going? Leg better?”

“Yes, much better. Filming is good, another week left.”

Lee wet his lips asking, “When is it out?”

“Early next year. Certainly be a film to add to my books.”

Lee chuckled, “Hey, I played burlesque dancer, so, not that odd of a choice.”

You nodded giggling, “Oh yes, ballet dancing Selkie.”

Your father said in your sip on the soda, “Certainly original.” Making you smile lowering the can.

“You are coming?” rolled onto your side your eyes cracked open registering Jennifer Lopez’ voice.

“This about the premier?”

“Ya, you had that job but you’ll be off then, right?”

“Yup, just flew into New York last night.”

A sharp exhale sounded through the line as your face settled into your mattress while Richard shifted to rest his head on your back cuddling closer again refusing to miss a moment of your final week together before he was due back in England. “Oh that’s good. How’d your flight go?”

“More of a rollercoaster than a flight. All bumps and then there was some hail, had to land in Tennessee and wait two hours to continue on to New York.”

“Oh that sucks,”

“Not really they have nice ribs there. How’s it with you? Heard you had a tv thing, Letterman?”

She chuckled, “Yes, been crazy with the press for this thing, but work is work. When are you doing press for yours?”

“If I do, maybe the winter. Which winter in Russia should be lovely. Have to enjoy sweater weather.” Making her chuckle again.

“Yes, yes you do.” After a moment she asked, “I heard something, you, don’t have an agent yet?”

“No, agent’s want money and I don’t get paid for last year’s work for another couple months until the first film is out of theaters and the others staggered for the same.”

“You don’t have any money, like, at all?”

Weakly you chuckled replying, “My rent is paid through the year, cash saved for my phone and food, just don’t have retainer fees level cash. Rich’s agent though tends to share what he hears about me for London work.”

“Like for couple jobs?”

“Not yet, but that’s what he’s aiming for. People there know I know him so I helps to draw attention to Rich too.”

To the continued use of his name he pressed a kiss into your back and nestled closer lifting the covers to help fight the next draft blowing through the apartment. “That’s good. I just want you to do well.”

“I know, thank you for that. I got people, just not big people. Tons of tips flow my way.”

You could almost hear her smirk in asking, “You got people?”

“I got people. Everybody has ears Jen.”

“Oh I know that. Always gotta be careful what you say and to who.” Making you smirk as she missed your point meant to mean that your latest tips had come from a delivery guy you went to school with who fired you a message for what the latest job he went to was looking for in a female lead. It was an interesting part but the request of swallowing a live octopus for the audition had you tapping out when they insisted it was the big marker for the female lead you were assured to be perfect for.

“Yes, from what I hear I do have to ask how is your fifth love child with your seventh fiancé?” Making her laugh at the combination of all the titles in the gossip rags, “I do hope I’m invited to this wedding you’ve skipped me for the last three.”

“I promise you, I get married you will be right up front… Hmm?” She asked someone else near her who said something making her pause to say, “I gotta go hun, but I will see you on the red carpet.”

“Yes you will, have fun.”

“I will, you too hun. Bye, Bye.” Hanging up allowing you to set down your phone and sigh settling back into your mattress.

Behind you Richard rumbled groggily, “You missed the best part sharing your people bring the best snacks.”

In a giggle you rolled over and he eased you down with a loop of his arm around your side planting his lips warmly on yours, “Some people don’t realize how helpful delivery guys can be for big tippers and old schoolmates.” Claiming another kiss then settling your forehead against his to get a bit more sleep with your still drowsy teddy bear clinging tight to you.

Clad in a simple indigo velvet short sleeved dress over black tights and your glittery heeled ankle boots you stood fixing your hair into a ponytail as Richard fashioned his tie. Nice and simple you dressed for the About a Boy premier and shouldered your phone to fix your mascara answering the call confirming the car sent for you was downstairs. It had been relentless with several confirmations this week you were indeed free and shouldering the crème clutch with cute accenting folds in the fabric over the top flap. Right off Richard claimed your hand locking up to walk with you to walk down to the car. With a grin you kindly greeted the driver who looked you over then flashed an awkward grin to Richard who shook that off and climbed in after you keeping hold of your hand.

Everyone you seemed to talk to shared a sense of relief. Hugh especially once Rachel, who you hadn’t met on set had come to greet you after having heard about you, came to greet you, leaving an interview to do so. “There you are,”

“Why do I feel like I’m in the Principal’s office?”

To that he chuckled and shook his head patting your arm, “Not at all. Simply, we heard you were working on another international film.”

“Yes, sorry, it was the last week of filming. I didn’t think you would miss me at the premier.”

“Miss, how could we not miss you?” His gaze shifted to Richard who was now grinning to himself and his hand outstretched, “I’m sorry, where are my manners, Hugh.”

“Richard,” naming himself in their hand shake that dropped to Hugh’s mouth opening.

“Richard, yes, Jaqi talks about you nonstop.”

“Not nonstop,” you replied bashfully.

Hugh nodded teasing you, “Yes non stop, often had to stop her on set forgetting her lines and gushing about her handsome Mate she couldn’t wait to get home to.” Hugh’s name was called and he said grinning at you both, “See you inside, have to go and keep talking about myself.” Turning to his interview again leaving you to be met by Nicholas and Toni, the mom and son in the film you spent so much of your blip with.

Nicholas hurried over and drew a giggle from you in his tight hug, “You’re here! They said you were working on a film!”

“Finished that last week, sorry,” Toni folded around you in the hug you patted her side on at the extent your arm could reach, “Hey Toni. It really couldn’t have been that bad.”

Sighing back her answer she said, “We missed you. Wasn’t the same without you. It’s a great film. You’ll love it.”

Nicholas said, “You did very well, bit odd hearing you without the accent though.”

His eyes shifted to Richard making you say in an adorable pat on his middle making him smile adoringly at you, “Oh, yes, this is Richard.”

Toni drew in a breath, “Richard! Of course!”

“I was not that bad.” You muttered making him chuckle through her handshake seeing you brush your curled bangs from your face.

Toni said, “Of course not,” then nodded to Richard who chuckled again easing his arm around your back at the group of aids hoping to move you onwards.

Walls of flashes captured your pose snuggled at his side resting your hands over his on your middle, later to be taken as a sign to hide a possible bit of jewelry on a certain finger before you were pulled aside for a brief interview followed by your rejoining Richard to head inside. Lowly in the dark of the theater leaned in you whispered to yourself, “It’s a decent part.” Not for the quality but how big your role was, not just another love interest but one of the connecting characters to blend his dating life into meeting the mom and son eventually becoming a family to Hugh’s character. On top of your lap Richard’s hand folded knowing you felt bad for missing the premier for your blip of filming that somehow now was irreplaceable if cut out to make the plot work how it did.

One after party somehow led to an interview from the magazine and papers at the first premier with that duo of writers eager to complete the cast interviews that was fully grateful you agreed to complete the full set. You guessed it had to be the management of the film who had shared the news because everyone knew you were working on some international film that they now were dying to see what had kept you from the suspected successful hit of a film with such a big star in the lead and amazing actresses to boot.

Unique was the word you used to describe the film hoping to not drive people off by describing it and thrilled to the core Richard, who was seated beside you got a snippet and a few questions as well he wondered how it would play out into this article. Either way he was excited to see if they would make the cut and if so what others would say on what was printed. Keeping you close through to your walk back up to your apartment again parting only to change and drop into bed to sleep before his flight the next day.

Cutouts of the articles on the film were added to your collection and in a long sleeved grey dress over black tights and the same glittery heels you were ready for the premier of Enough. This one you knew for a fact to be a blip yet all the same again you went and smiled for the pictures both alone and in the group picture for the full cast two seats from the aisle you were seated and in a slip out to avoid the first beating scene you went to the toilet. Leaned up against the wall you pulled out your phone needing a distraction for a few minutes and at the voicemail notification you clicked on it and listened to Peter’s voice playing over the line.

The simple reminder for your flight date and travel information came with his adding, “Gimli, I can’t wait for you to be out here again I have something I wanted to speak to you about. Just, uh, call me back when you get this and confirm you’ll be here on time, or hopefully your on time which is a few days early. Stay safe, Gimli, love you and hear from you soon.”

Quickly you dialed back flashing a grin to the woman washing her hands as you walked to the other end of the room. “Hey Peter, out in New York, I know I’m written as flying out in two weeks but Dad flew in last night and we got a good deal to fly in a week early if that’s good for you. I gotta get back, but, love you, see you in a couple days when we land. Bye.” Hanging up you stuck out your tongue a moment fighting the feeling it had tried to stick to the roof of your mouth and went back to find your seat again.

Domestic abuse films were never easy for you to sit through, you hadn’t faced it personally but a woman you used to work with and one of your friends in High School nearly didn’t make it to graduation for how bad their home situation got. All the same Jennifer played it well and even though it was a bit predictable that Slim would choose to kill her husband it was still a good film and although a bit deflated you still went to the after party to try and perk up again before heading home to sleep.

Straight across the headlines on the paper you took with you to the airport had the new cast of King Kong to begin filming in the next year. Devouring each detail you read through the article mainly telling you what you already knew of Peter’s devotion to the hope of one day filming King Kong. He had miniatures and even a script from a try years prior he shelved to work on Lord of the Rings when things didn’t work out. Colin Hanks, Jack Black, Adrian Brody and Naomi Watts were among the names you could recognize alongside Jamie Bell and Andy Serkis, the rest were vaguely hinting to possible actors the names belonged to.

While all your mind could circle on was the listed story of Ann Darrow’s life, a down and out girl working Vaudeville to try and survive the Great Depression hoping to one day work with her favorite writer who ends up on the adventure of a lifetime. The quote from Peter stating her as a girl from the big harsh city of New York, naïve with a strength she wasn’t aware of yet to be tested soon. Remembering Naomi from The Ring you couldn’t help but be a little hurt for losing the role no doubt you wouldn’t have gotten anyways. Sure as it was being filmed in New Zealand this would be another extra role film for you. And you supposed in your turn to the side to take a nap after tucking away your paper and curling around your father’s arm that this would be another epic that would leave you far from noticed on screen for the work you put into it.

Pt 27

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea , @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm (Hobbit x oc)

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

X Lee P - @tigereyesf

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Filming #Daredevil/Elektra filming #Enough #About A Boy premier #Traveling

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kurtzbergsiblings · 3 years

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"Mirror of Joy"Nadia and Katherine

Lucy Bloodengutz never comes to be. Not after high school, not after college... not ever. And while Harry Kurtzberg takes on the stage name Harrison Agana, he moves to New York where his sister is living with her girlfriend.

Nadia’s music talent speaks for itself, and orchestras of New York offer her good money to be a part of their string section. Despite some hesitance around young people, she also picks up teaching a few kids how to play the cello as well.

Katherine gets a degree in journalism, bouncing around online sites and articles until she lands a job at a publishing company. And of course, once you have the in, it becomes much easier to get editors and publishers to give you the time of day...

The girls live together with a charming menagerie of pets (including the kitten Katherine desperately wants and the snake we all know Nadia eventually gets). They end up getting married in a rather dramatic ceremony because... it’s them... even though it’s mostly just friends from St. Cecilia’s and people Katherine has gotten close to in New York. The only real trace of Carey is the Kurtzbergs themselves, and that’s how it stays.

So, after her brush with luck and losing two of the most important people in her life, Katherine is still able to heal and never encounters the supernatural. Neither does her brother, who with the help of her and Nadia is able to navigate the confusing world of acting in New York. And guess what? Neither Katherine or Harrison gambles fate to get what they want this time! So everyone is okay.

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catalinaroleplay · 3 years

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Gender & Pronouns: Cis woman, she/her

Date of Birth: April 17th, 1985 (35)

Place of Birth: Manhattan, New York City, New York

Neighborhood: Ventura

Length of Residency: Since January 2020

Occupation: Co-owner of VP Records Recording Label

Face Claim: Megan Fox

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Alcohol, Drugs, Infidelity.

Vivienne was born to Theodore and Malina Stanhope on a rainy Spring morning in Manhattan. Unbeknownst to her, she was born into a very wealthy family. The Stanhope’s family company started in oil and shipping many years ago, but had since evolved into acquiring failing and bankrupt companies and revitalizing them, pushing the Stanhope family into higher and higher socio-economic status.

Her childhood was typical of a rich child. Boarding schools in Europe. Trips around the world. Shopping sprees whenever her mother felt the need. Yet, Vivienne was never interested in those things. She was more interested in the sounds around her, more specifically, music. She had always been sensitive to music. Music was the only way her parents could get her to sleep when she was a baby. It was what stopped the tantrums when she was a toddler. It was what soothed her when she felt feelings she could not express. She heard the violin for the first time on an outing to the orchestra with her parents and grandparents. She was three years old and sat quietly staring into the orchestra pit as they played song after song. She was mesmerized by the sounds it could make and knew she had to learn to play that instrument. As they all piled into the limousine that would take them home, Vivienne could only talk about the violin and how much she wanted to play it. They put her in lessons instantly and she learned the instrument remarkably quickly. She had it mastered by the time she was seven and had composed her first musical piece at the age of nine. The family realized they had a musical prodigy on their hands and trained her with several different tutors and music teachers to encourage this talent within her. She loved her ability to practice music and create it. It became her passion as she grew older.

As she grew, Vivienne learned the viola, cello, bass, piano, and guitar. She is proficient in all string instruments. She was never interested in the harp, but would come back to it every now and again trying to find her enjoyment with it, but it would never come. She became a show pony at her parents’ and grandparents’ parties and events. They pushed her on the stage to play, but she most enjoyed playing for her little sister, Catherine, whenever she could. They did not start off very close as Vivienne was always going away to school, but once they were able to go together, they were inseparable. It was this way until high school started for Catherine. Her family wanted Catherine to complete high school in an American private school in New York so she was whisked away and Vivienne was alone to complete her junior year in her European high school. She had a handful of friends who were musically inclined as well that she enjoyed, but it wasn’t the same as her sister. It would be the following year that Vivienne would be called back to America herself and her life would change.

Catherine was turning fifteen and participating in the debutante ball. She was the apple of their grandmother, Josette’s, eye. They had big plans for the perfect girl so they needed her in America. Catherine was soft, eloquent, gregarious, outgoing, elegant, and mannerly. Vivienne was quiet, observant, curious, reserved, and sarcastic. Catherine was the obvious choice to bring even more recognition to the family name. She was going to be part of a union with another large, wealthy family. The Calloways. The Calloways had an abundance of sons and one of them was Philip. Philip was charming, determined, ambitious, with a bit of edge that they believed Catherine could calm. Their first dates had been at gala tables, where both families sat them next to each other purposely. He was Catherine’s date to her debutante ball. He had escorted her in and caught eyes with Vivienne and the look never faltered. It was instant. Vivienne felt it too, though she tried to avoid him as much as she could. She knew he was not meant for her, but for her sister. However, it turned out, Catherine was not very interested in Philip. He did not move her as he did Vivi. She was glad to have nothing to do with him. Though it surprised the rest of Vivi’s family when he showed up the day after the ball with a bouquet of flowers for the older Stanhope girl.

Vivi and Philip were a bit awkward on their first date. They were quiet until Philip mentioned music and unlocked the key to Vivi’s heart. They spoke for hours about music, losing track of time and having both families wondering and in a panic as to where they were. The days after, they met up and played music for each other. Philip, on his guitar, Vivi on her violin. They fell in love over music. And Vivi knew what she must do. She graduated from her boarding school and applied to Julliard. She earned a full scholarship and majored in music composition and performance. She needed to be in America to be with Philip. He only attended Julliard for one year, before taking his chances on a music competition show and winning the entire thing. It had been a shock, but Vivi knew he would do well. It thrusted Philip into instant stardom and he took Vivi along for the ride. There were concerts, tours, and interviews. Tons of fans screaming his name. Vivi was happy for him, but the hustle and bustle of a famous musician wasn’t something that she felt comfortable with so they agreed that she would stay in New York while he traveled the world with his band.

They spoke pretty much every day and continued to foster their love. Vivi landed a job as a violinist with the New York Symphony after graduation and things were good. On her twenty-third birthday, Philip proposed to Vivienne and she happily accepted. Their families were not thrilled, but they accepted the match, starting to plan a huge wedding that would take over Manhattan for an entire week. Vivi stayed quiet during most of the planning, but Philip could see it was eating her up. She didn’t like being the center of attention without an instrument in her hand and things with the wedding were getting bigger and bigger. After months of cold sweats and nightmares that Philip had to calmly talk her down from, the pair agreed to elope. They took a flight to Vegas and got married by an Elvis impersonator in a Little White Chapel on The Strip. Their families were livid when they saw the wedding on TMZ, but relented that at least they were married and the union was secure.

After a week of a honeymoon on the Calloway family’s private islands, Philip and Vivi were back to their regular lives. Philip was gone on tours and appearances, while Vivi continued in the symphony and waited for him to come back to their Manhattan brownstone. Things did not slow down for Philip until two years later when he had to record another album which brought him home. In the time that he completed his second album, he had also managed to get Vivi pregnant which made their families extremely happy. To everyone’s surprise, Vivi had twin boys, Peyton and Presley, at the age of twenty-eight. Juggling the symphony and twin babies, while Philip went off to promote the album was a bit stressful for Vivi, so she decided to take leave to raise her children and help Philip with his career.

His second album did extremely well and sent him off and away again. Vivi was sad to see him go, but happy that at least his music was successful. But it seemed that fame got to Philip’s head, he began indulging in all the things that were offered to him: sex, drugs, and alcohol. Vivi worried about him as she got frantic early morning calls or could hear girls in the background. Then there were the tabloids where there was video and photo proof of his infidelity. Philip flew home immediately and apologized up and down for his behavior promising that he would not do any of it again. He went to rehab and they went to counseling. They did not want to abandon their marriage and they had young children to think about. Philip convinced Vivi to come on the road with him to promote and tour. She agreed, wanting to keep an eye on him. However, the constant movement of tour life was not conducive to raising two toddler boys. It took a lot out of Vivi so for the second leg, she made the decision to take herself and the boys home. This time, Philip bought them a house in California so it would always be summer and they could have fun. She appreciated it and began to make the California house a home.

Things were going well for a while. They had even embarked on a joint venture, opening VP Records. A recording label that they both owned so they could help other artists and so Vivi wouldn’t miss music so much. It kept them strong and together for a few more years, before it all fell apart again. The cheating, drugs, and alcohol began again. Vivi began visiting Philip randomly to get him to focus and keep him on the right track, but it would not work. On one random trip, Vivi had brought their sons to the penthouse the label had rented for Philip. It was a surprise for their wedding anniversary that she was even there. They called out for him, searching the suite all over until Vivienne found the bedroom. She opened the door to find her husband passed out between two naked women with several bottles of alcohol and drug paraphernalia all around the room. That was the last straw for Vivi. She caught the next flight home and began packing her and the boys’ things to move out and move back to New York. However, she found out she was pregnant and thought again. She confronted her husband and told him about the baby she was carrying. He insisted that he would do better, but she was not a fool again. They separated while she was pregnant and she filed for divorce the day after their daughter, Victoria, was born. The divorce was messy and highly publicized. Yet, Vivienne won primary custody of their children, fifty one percent of VP Records, and half of their assets including the California house. She knew that she could not live there so she sold it and used the money to move to the quiet island of Catalina to rebuild and restart her life with her children.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Musically-inclined | Observant | Resilient

Negative: Sarcastic | Reserved | Cynical

Vivienne Stanhope-Calloway is portrayed by Niki.

#all #cis #woman #ventura #megan fox #alcohol tw #drugs tw #infidelity tw

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getalittleclosey · 4 years

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100k+ larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 50k

under 100k

☆ with a whimper by kitundercover 133k

Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger. ---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

☆ never be by cherrystreet 118k

Monica: You've got to see her again. Ross: And why do you care so much? Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy! Ross: You had fantasies about Emily? Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

☆ that sounds fake but okay by dancingontheceiling 113k

Harry Styles is a rookie journalist forced to work the gossip desk at a major New York magazine. Louis Tomlinson is the A-list actor who doesn't appreciate Harry or his articles.

☆ if it kills me by you_explode 111k

Harry and Louis have worked together in a difficult office environment for six years. They're best friends; Louis is the bright spot of all of Harry's days. But Louis is in love with Harry, and Harry's engaged to someone else. And that's only the beginning.

The Office AU. More or less follows the first five seasons. A lot of pining and misunderstanding the depth of feelings and rejection and angst, until there isn’t.

☆ shake me down by agreatperhaps12 209k

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

☆ love is a rebellious bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews 135k

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

note: i fucking love this one. my current car is named thunder because of it (all the cars i’ve leased over the last 9 years have been named after vague larry fic references)

☆ one more time again by orphan_account 232k

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

note: there’s a 15k second part

☆ soft hands, fast feet, can’t lose by dolce_piccante 113k

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

note: there’s a 5k second part to this

extra note: idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i’ve always preferred this over escapade or rntm

☆ paint me in a million dreams by green_feelings 113k

Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

☆ walk that mile by purpledaisy 150k

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

☆ landslide by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona) 143k

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

note: i will rep this fic until the day i die. even my mom knows how much i love landslide

#fic rec #one direction #larry stylinson #mine #longgggg fics #11 of these!#fic masterpost

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rayatii · 3 years

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A (somehow both very biased and not very opinionated) review of the Met orchestra musicians concert “Song to the Moon” from February 21, 2021:

I had been bothering my Tumblr followers with my excitement over this event yesterday, so it felt only right for me to stop procrastinating and give an attempt for a review of the whole thing; I think this is actually my first time writing a lengthy review ever, and it will probably sound naïve and be an embarrassment for me in the future.

It started around 10 PM where I live. I sat in my bed with my computer while eating chocolate in order to stay awake throughout the whole thing, and trying not to spill any pieces on the sheets, excitedly waiting for this event, having actually bought myself a fifteen-buck ticket about three weeks prior with my parents’ credit card (they didn’t bat an eye when I asked their permission), happily knowing that the money was not going to end up in the pockets of the undeserving Met management.

Given the shitty Lebanese Wi-Fi and the fact that this was a livestream, I had been worried that I might miss significant chunks and get upset over the fact. The stream did glitch a few times for me during the first number (mainly because I had my computer on my constantly-moving knees, before settling it down next to me on the bed), but otherwise it never failed me.

But let’s get on with the review. The livestream began with a title card representing an animation of a lunar eclipse, displaying the title “Song to the Moon”. The concert started with a performance of Antonín Dvořák’s String Quintet No. 2 in G Major, Op. 77 by members of the Met orchestra. (actually, given that this is a Met musicians concert, I feel that they ought to be rightfully credited; Nancy Wu, 1st violin [for this piece], Bruno Eicher, 2nd violin [for this piece], Désirée Elsevier, viola, Kari Jane Docter, cello, and Leigh Mesh, double bass.)

I actually listened to a recording of this piece in preparation a few days prior, just so you guys know. Obviously, there were a few slightly flat notes that were played, but overall this was quite a pleasant rendition, and I still have the theme from the 2nd movement stuck in my head as I’m writing this. What I also liked was that at one point (i.e. when I was actually paying attention in that area) I could actually hear the notes being played by the double bass quite clearly, at least compared to the other recording that I had listened to.

Next on the program, the musicians were joined by soprano Angela Gheorghiu (i.e. my main reason for actually purchasing the ticket), who performed all the way from the Athenaeum of Bucharest, Romania, [1st instance of Raya uselessly gushing] looking ethereal in that shot that was shown of her just walking inside the building wearing that white dress and flowing cape, before the actual performance. Just a warning for you guys here; I love Gheorghiu (actually, it’s a bit of a celebrity “crush”), so please expect a little bit of somewhat controlled gushing here and there (partly physical appearance-wise, which are indicated by the bold, and which I deeply hate myself for). This part of the review is causing me even more anxiety for that reason.

She performed on the stage of a theater that was practically empty besides the pianist. She sang in two languages I do not understand at all, which helped me a bit with not getting too distracted by pronunciation. [2nd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Before I get into what y’all actually came for, I just wanted to get it out of my system about how she had this appearance that defined “has aged, aged really well”. She had this kind of mature beauty, especially with her makeup, that seemed to give me the overall vibes of a pleasant middle-aged auntie. (well, this was very difficult embarrassing to write) Even her singing voice had this sound that can be described as having this sort of “mature” quality blended with the whole fact of her overall sound being “hers”. I hope I have made myself clear.

Okay, gushing finished for now, let’s move on with the review!

Apparently the footage taken in Bucharest and the one taken in New York were both filmed separately. I found it really mind-blowing how the audio of both got synchronized so perfectly.

The first gem Gheorghiu sang was an arrangement of “Tatăl nostru”; basically an early-19th-century musical setting of the Lord’s Prayer by Anton Pann that is still used to this day in the Romanian Orthodox Church (totally NOT reading off the PDF for the program notes provided on the website). I had obviously never heard this piece before; I had tried to (VERY lazily) look it up a bit, but to no avail. I unfortunately don’t remember much from this performance apart from everything mentioned before, but what I do know is that was rendered really epic thanks to the participation of principal Met percussionist Gregory Zuber alongside the string players.

Next was performed the aria after which the whole concert was named, the incredibly famous “Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém” (aka “Song to the Moon”) by Dvořák again, from the opera Rusalka. This version was actually arranged by the violist Elsevier, who is among the musicians who retired from the Met during the pandemic. And it was indeed a beautiful arrangement! Now, unlike “Tatăl nostru”, which I virtually knew nothing about, I love this aria and know it quite well, so I did pay attention to some of the pronunciation; but then again, I do not speak Czech, so it didn’t matter much. Overall, Gheorghiu’s rendition was not perfect (I thinnnnnnnnk there were some notes that were a little bit out of tune? but there was vibrato that also touched the right tone and so I couldn’t tell), and I would certainly not imagine it within the full context of Rusalka the opera (see what I noted above concerning the quality of her voice), but that did not stop me from finding it quite beautiful.

It felt so weird not to hear any applause after each number, and so I could not help but clap after each gem, even though no one could hear me.

After the concert wrapped up, the audience got to watch a chat session between Gheorghiu and Met horn player Barbara Jöstlein Currie, where they talked about how this whole thing came to be (so apparently there was Instagram DM’ing between the two that was involved in the preparation?), before the five string players (which actually include two married couples!) whose music we heard earlier joined in. So unlike the concert, which was all pre-recorded, this was a Zoom session being streamed live. [3rd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Gheorghiu’s speaking voice sounds radically different from her singing voice, and I can tell English is not her primary language, but that’s just something useless I wanted to include, on which I have zero strong feelings. In contrast to the pre-recorded concert, here she was responsible for me writing in The Balcony Seats Discord server earlier today about how “you know you have aged well when you end up looking a bit like Morticia Addams”, especially with the makeup. [gushing done]

The whole discussion hinged on the concept of “Met family”, and I found the whole interaction between Gheorghiu and the musicians just very very sweet, a star singer and musicians in the pit seeing each other as equals, as family. It’s not every day that I see that (but then again, my background is severely limited, so what do I know). Among the relatively unimportant things the convo touched on that stick with me, in no particular order, are:

Gheorghiu apparently married on the stage of the Met because the guy from the City Hall lost their papers and I never knew that??? (but then again, I never directly research info about my hyperfixations because I get overwhelmed) Everyone had a nice laugh at that recollection.

She got into this whole profession mainly to sing at the Met. Also the whole deal of her making L*vine cry and making her debut at a young age for a star singer.

Everyone relating to the feeling of going home at night after a concert, and not being able to go to sleep because you still have adrenaline flowing through you. As someone who does performing arts, I also relate to that on a moderate degree.

Family life talks.

Gheorghiu mentioning how she can’t work with a director who’s like “your character does that because that’s what I decided” because something something harmony? I can’t remember; I’m pretty sure I’m misquoting. But that’s basically the equivalent of “my house, my rules” (”my production, my interpretation” in that case, lol) imo, so can’t object too much.

Something about playing the finale of Götterdämmerung led the musicians to humorously throw in the idea of Gheorghiu singing Brünnhilde as her next role, and she went all “nah” to that, also humorously.

This led to her admitting that she’s not the biggest fan of Wagner’s music (though she would consider singing Elsa); saying that she’d travel back in time to tell Wager to stop writing these interminable phrases, to just get to the point (I’m not really into Wagner either, so I don’t completely disagree). Also, she believes that Wagner is difficult to sing, and that singers who nail Wagner tend to end up singing only Wagner (here, I think it depends, but there is a point somewhere in here).

She doesn’t seem to like singing acapella/without music very much, which also led her to record some sAcRiLEgiOuS versions of Orthodox worship songs, which you’re apparently not supposed to sing with music.

She sang something like “goodnight, goodnight” (idk) at the very end, it was cute.

To go back to the important stuff, Gheorghiu apparently wrote directly to the Met donors, asking to help in any way, because she wanted to set an example for other people by doing the right thing, and to help what she sees as her “family”, as mentioned above. I had heard some stories about her diva reputation (and she does seem to enjoy attention and stuff, from what I’ve seen myself), but overall she seems like a pretty good person. Mainly mentioning that because as y’all know I’m autistic and can’t tell intricate body language and stuff, plus my very strong belief that good person >>>>>>> great performer. (but my dear friends say that loving her is valid, so I guess I’m safe from too much disappointment. what am I even writing).

And that’s it for my incredibly long and uselessly detailed and almost incoherent and somewhat gushy review, which took me nearly 3 hours to write (and for which I may or may not have replayed a little bit of the stream just to get one bit of info right), and which will, again, probably embarrass me for the rest of my puny life, but which I could not not let out into the void of operablr.

(There were also moments earlier today where I was fantasizing about being interviewed on that very Zoom meeting for the scene-and-duet I composed back in January in response to the Met’s poor treatment of its musicians)

I guess what I can take from this post is: never write a review again, Raya!

#sorry everyone!!!#raya writes a review #concert review #opera concert review #angela gheorghiu #(whom i have excessively gushed over)#(but seriously you should count the number of times i have written 'gheorghiu' in this one post!)#(i haven't bc it's late)#met orchestra musicians #song to the moon #song to the moon concert #dealing with part of a current hyperfixation

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Dust, Volume 6, Number 10

The Slugs

September seemed to be the month when all the records on endless delay finally got kicked out the door, COVID or no, ready or not here we come. We’re deluged with music, some recorded before the world changed, some clearly cooked up mid-pandemic. There are a lot of covers EPs, lots of solo material, lots of home-made lo-fi, lots of benefit comps, and who are we to complain? Better, instead, to reach for the headphones, load up the hard drive, pile on the LPs and do some listening. Here’s some of the stuff that caught our attention, as usual ranging all over the continuum, from traditional to edgy and experimental, from silly pop punk to enraged death metal to bookish electro-acoustic improvisation. Contributors this time out included Jonathan Shaw, Patrick Masterson, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Derek Taylor, Ray Garraty, Tim Clarke and Andrew Forell. Happy fall.

Amputation — Slaughtered in the Arms of God (Nuclear War Now!)

Slaughtered in the Arms of God by Amputation

Given the degree of smugness that accompanies utterances of the phrase “Old School Death Metal,” it’s frequently instructive to listen to some. Right on time, the misanthropic bunch at Nuclear War Now! has delivered some seriously Old School sounds to our digital doorstep. This new compilation LP gathers both of the demos of Norwegian knuckle-draggers Amputation, along with a contemporaneous rehearsal recording. Likely the resulting record will be of principal interest to fans of Immortal, the long-running, on-again-off-again Norwegian black metal band that Amputation would morph into in 1991. The songs collected on Slaughtered in the Arms of God have some additional musicological significance, as they document the sounds of 1989 and 1990, transformational years in Norway’s metal scene. Mayhem and Darkthrone tend to get most of the attention, for reasons both good and bad; and like Darkthrone, Amputation made death metal before transitioning to blacker, more brittle sounds. The music on Slaughtered in the Arms of God is muddy, thudding and thick. Perhaps that’s the result of the primitive recording tech the band used, likely of necessity. But through the murk (and to some degree because of it), you can hear the influence of Stockholm’s fecund death metal scene, especially Dismember’s earliest stuff. Scandinavia’s metal currents run deep and dark. Whether that means that Old School Death Metal is intrinsically a good thing is a different matter.

Jonathan Shaw

Anz — Loose in Twos (NRG) 12” (Hessle Audio)

Loos In Twos (NRG) by Anz

I love the idea of listening to DJ mixes of original or all-new material; it’s probably why I still value, say, Ricardo Villalobos’ Fabric 36 so much. Manchester’s Anna Marie-Odubote, aka Anz, has been doing just such a thing annually since 2015 and really went wild with spring/summer dubs 2020, which compiled 74 tracks into nearly an hour and a half of new music. That would’ve been more than enough amid all of this (imagine me gesturing around vaguely), but “Loos in Twos (NRG)” on the venerable Hessle Audio imprint is an equally formidable, decidedly tighter release I played a lot at the start of September. Three club-ready tracks here break down acid, jungle and footwork, and while all three are heady breaks, the looped vocals and bongo of “Stepper” make it the one for me. Get those feet moving digitally now so they’re comfortable once the vinyl arrives in early October.

Patrick Masterson

Ashes and Afterglow — Everybody Wants a Revolution (Postlude Paradox)

Ashes and Afterglow drops pop punk melodies into deep buckets of fuzz, lets them bubble and bob to the surface before shoving them under again. The band is mainly the output of one Luke Daniel, who appears to have been in other band called Sea of Orchids, but neither outfit has left much of an internet trail. And sure, this is the kind of thing that could easily get shuffled under; it breaks no moulds. And yet shuffling “To Take a Look at the World,” has a heart-worn resonance, Daniel’s voice echoing in reverbed hollow-ness against surging tides of guitar noise. “My Yesterday Girl” churns a little harder, with a bright, pop-leaning sort of hopefulness hedged in by seething feedback. It’s not bad, but it never hits a melodic vein the way that similarly inclined artists like Ted Leo or Ovlov or Tony Molina do, and it never pushes the noise over the top, either. Neither pop nor punk but somewhere in middle.

Jennifer Kelly

Ballister — Znachki Stilyag (Aerophonic)

Znachki Stilyag by Ballister

A cake is still a cake, whether you put chocolate frosting and strawberries or white icing and a fondant roses on top. And while they don’t all taste or look exactly the same, a Ballister album is still a Ballister album, and the first Ballister album in three years does not mess with the recipe. Dave Rempis (alto and tenor saxophones), Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello and electronics), and Paal Nilssen-Love (drums and percussion) still trade in a particularly hard-hitting form of total improvisation. The changes are ones of emphasis — Lonberg-Holm sounds like he’s using a wah-wah pedal and deploys some especially slashing feedback tones, there’s a bit more space in Nilssen-Love’s intricate beat configurations, and Rempis left his baritone sax at home — and of location. Znachki Stilyag was recorded during the fall of 2019 in Moscow, Russia, which may explain why the big horn stayed at home. But the ones you hear still cut and thrust with broadsword force and rapier precision. This is a cake you can trust.

Bill Meyer

Vincent Chancey — The Spell: The Vincent Chancey Trio Live, 1987 (No Business)

Vincent Chancey likely isn’t alone amongst his peers in feeling exasperated by folks singling out his instrument as uncommon or unusual to jazz. It’s a form of damning through faint praise and one that feel

s even more lackadaisical with any time spent with his music. Chancey plays the French horn and he’s plied it in settings as diverse as Sun Ra Arkestra, Lester Bowie’s Brass Fantasy and Charlie Haden’s Liberation Music Orchestra as well as gigs supporting Aretha Franklin and Elvis Costello. It’s unclear whether the trio documented on The Spell was a working concern, but that hardly matters given how well bassist Wilbur Morris and percussionist Warren Smith gel with their convener. Spread across two sides of an LP, the concert recorded at a New York City art gallery covers four pieces, two by Morris bookending one apiece from Smith and the leader that stitch together very much like cohesive suite. An unadvertised surprise comes with Smith’s ample application of marimba alongside a regular drum kit. Recording quality isn’t optimal, but Chancey’s rich, rounded, phrases gain extra gravitas through the sometimes-grainy acoustics. Woefully underrepresented in the driver’s seat discographically, his acumen as both improviser and composer is easily vindicated by this limited edition (300 copies) release.

Derek Taylor

Che Chen — Tokyo 17.II.2012 (self-released)

Tokyo 17.II.2012 by Che Chen

Nowadays Che Chen has earned a measure renown as the guitar-playing half of 75 Dollar Bill, and all the praise is earned. But before that, he played a roomful of instruments in the True Primes, Heresy of the Free Spirit and duos with Robbie Lee, Tetuzi Akiyama and Chie Mukai. The through-lines to all these efforts is a willingness not to play things the way their supposed to be played, and a gift for supplying the right resonance in any setting. Since 75 Dollar Bill is a New York-based band made for social occasions, the COVID-19 lay-off has been especially hard — so there’s no better time to see what’s in those hard drives in the closet, right? Chen has released this solo concert from 2012 via Bandcamp. In Tokyo for a brief layover, he played amplified violin at a party held in the basement of someone’s apartment building. The amplified part is important; dips and swells of feedback count as much as in this 25-minute performance as the fiddle’s bright, plucked notes and rough, bowed tones. Chen moves purposefully from one mode to next, taking time along the way to savor the room’s lively acoustics.

Bill Meyer

Jeff Cosgrove/ John Medeski/ Jeff Lederer — History Gets Ahead of the Story (Grizzley Music)

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Odds are that even the estimable William Parker would be surprised by the prospect of a William Parker cover album. But that’s essentially what History Gets Ahead of the Story is as organized and realized by drummer Jeff Cosgrove. That the project is the province of an organ trio only adds to the potential consternation quotient. John Medeski officiates the Hammond B-3 console and saxophonist Jeff Lederer, doubling on flute, completes the combo convened by Cosgrove. The latter’s connections to Parker stem from a trio he was part of with the bassist/composer and pianist Matthew Shipp that disbanded in 2015 after fruitful collaboration. Parker’s personage and music left an indelible mark and the seeds for the present album were sown. Collective creative license doesn’t get in the way of soulful, energizing renderings of such staples as “O’Neal’s Porch,” “Corn Meal Dance” and “Wood Flute Songs,” but troika also cedes time for a triptych of strong originals that align aurally with their dedicatee’s inclusive tone world sensibilities.

Derek Taylor

Derelenismo Occulere — Inexorable Revelación (Le Legione Projets)

Inexorable Revelacion (FULL LENGHT 2020) by Derelenismo Occulere

This sounds like a rehearsal gone wrong. In the time of the COVID pandemic, Neo Apolion, a guy responsible for the music in this Ecuadorean duo, recorded a demo and sent it to the band’s vocalist Malduchryst with a message to do with it whatever he wants. Malduchryst took his band partner’s words all too literally. With complete disregard to the music he began vomiting a noisy, messy mass of screams to a microphone (has he never heard of a black metal with no vocals?). If it sounds totally batshit, you can rest assured that it is. This is what makes Inexorable Revelación actually great black metal. When a lot of metal bands these days are just Backstreet Boys with leather jackets on and with guitars, Derelenismo Occulere care about only fury and mayhem. Their Argentinean mix man Ignacio only adds more chaos to the album. The only flaw this tape has is that it is 15 minutes too long.

Ray Garraty

Whit Dickey — Morph (ESP-Disk)

Morph by Whit Dickey

Drummer Whit Dickey and pianist Matthew Shipp have been recurrent partners since the early 1990s, when they were both members of the David S. Ware Quartet. It’s fair to say that each man is a known quantity to the other, and that one of the things they know about each other is that they might still be surprised by the other’s playing. Dickey’s retreated from time to time in order to revise his approach, and while Shipp has often threatened to quit recording over the years, he has never stopped working or evolving. This double disc combines one duo CD and another that adds trumpeter Nate Wooley to the pair. Wooley’s done a number of dates with Shipp in recent times, but he and Dickey were musical strangers before they entered Park West Studios in March 2019. Without Wooley, Shipp and Dickey seem very free and trusting of each other, transitioning with dreamlike ease from abstracted gospel to sideways swing to restless co-rumination this the ease. The trio seems more considered. The trumpeter dips quite sparingly into his extended technique bag, favoring instead linear statements that instigate fleet perambulations from the pianist and more supportive, less overtly dialogic contributions from the drummer. Both sessions work, and their differences complement each other quite handily.

Bill Meyer

Dropdead — S/T (Armageddon)

Dropdead 2020 by Dropdead

Yep, it’s that Dropdead, the Providence-based powerviolence band that hasn’t released a proper LP since 1998 and was on a long hiatus through much of the 21st century. Since 2011, Dropdead has put out a string of splits, with heavyweights like Converge and Brainoil. But a whole record? Maybe the unrelentingly shitty condition of our political and economic conjuncture motivated the four guys in the band (three of whom have been affiliated with Dropdead since 1991) to write the 23 burners, rants and breakdown-heavy hardcore tunes you’ll hear across Dropdead’s 25 minutes. It’s a welcome addition. Bob Otis’s voice doesn’t have the shredding quality of days of yore — but that ends up being useful. You can hear the lyrics, and they’re drenched in venom and righteousness. The rest of the band hasn’t lost a step. Pretty impressive for a bunch of guys with that much grey in their beards. That said, they don’t pull any intergenerational, “we’re-older-and-wiser” moves. This is still music that wants to collapse boundaries, between stage and mosh pit, between races and genders, between species, even. Not so much class positions: “Warfare State,” “United States of Corruption,” “Will You Fight?” Late capitalism’s depredations still bear the principal brunt of the band’s anger. Things have gotten worse, and Dropdead respond in kind. They may be a lot older, but they’re even more pissed off.

Jonathan Shaw

Fake Laugh — Waltz (State 51 Conspiracy)

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Earlier this year, Kamran Khan released his second Fake Laugh album, the charming, playful Dining Alone, which made its way into Dusted’s mid-year round-up of favorites released in the first half of 2020. Khan’s third album, Waltz, is a very different beast, featuring just piano, vocals and the odd keyboard texture, casting his songwriting in sharp relief. Undoubtedly created in this stripped-down way out of lockdown necessity, it’s hard to listen to these wistful, melancholic songs without imagining where Khan’s knack for colorful arrangements might take them, given the chance. (As a tease, closing song “Amhurst” offers up a shimmering electronic melody and some sighing synth chords.) There’s no doubting Khan’s way with a tune, and his naked vocal, though occasionally showing strain, suits the mood. It’s understated and undeniably lovely, yet Waltz feels like a minor release for this talented artist.

Tim Clarke

David Grubbs / Taku Unami — Comet Meta (Blue Chopsticks)

Comet Meta by David Grubbs & Taku Unami

In the 23 years since Gastr Del Sol fell apart, David Grubbs has done many things that don’t sound much like his old band with Jim O’Rourke. And Taku Unami has worked in such varied settings and ways that the most persistent quality of his engagement with sound is its ability to induce question marks and ellipses in any train of thought intending to decode it. So, it’s both remarkable and delightful that this record, the duo’s second collaboration, sounds rather like parts of Gastr Del Sol’s Upgrade & Afterlife. The foundation rests upon the way two guys who can and do play intricate guitar duets make subtle use of other elements — creeping acoustic piano, humming synthesizer, urban field recordings — to make music that thickens atmosphere and accumulates mystery with such subtlety that you don’t notice it until you’re in it.

Bill Meyer

Guided by Voices — Mirrored Aztec (Guided by Voices Inc.)

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I know, I know, it’s another Guided by Voices record, the fifth since 2019, but hear me out. Pollard is still tapped into the fuzzy, rackety, melodic sap of the rock and roll universe, and he has only to knock his hammer a few times against the gnarled tree of life to extract more of what sustains us. Shorter version: he can do this all day, every day, without any noticeable let-up in quality. So, let us celebrate another batch of Who-like power chords, of rumbling drums and monumental bass thuds, of melodies that curve out delicately like spring’s first vines, then thicken into thundering climaxes and triumphant refrains. Let us give thanks again for inscrutable lyrics that drift off into poetry then pull back in the most ordinary artifacts of the spoken word. “I Think I Had It. I Think I Have It,” crows Pollard in a voice that has been blasted by time but come out more or less intact, and yes, Bob, you still do.

Jennifer Kelly

Edu Haubensak & Tomas Korber — Works for Guitar & Percussion (Ezz-thetics)

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The celebrated Wandelweiser aesthetic serves as a loose overarching impetus for the four interpretations of compositions by Edu Haubensak and Tomas Korber that comprise Works for Guitar & Percussion. Classical guitarist Christian Buck and improvising percussionist Christian Wolfarth ply their instruments through pairing and isolation. Essayist Andy Hamilton describes context by delineating a distinction between music (based in the language of tones) and soundart (which is non-tonal) and placing the duo’s interpretations in the opaque border between these realms. Repetition and timbral disparity frame Haubensak’s “On” while Korber’s “Aufhebung” applies scrutiny to microtonal diversity and temporal impermanence. Wolfarth fields Korber’s “Weniger Weiss” from behind snare drum, trading recurring stick rolls with varying segments of silence that compel ears accustomed to Western musical structures to consciously fill in the blanks. Haubensak’s solo “Refugium” finds Buck bending two closely tuned strings in an extrapolation of an Arabic maqam that feels tenuously connected to the form, at best.

Derek Taylor

Inseclude — Inseclude (Inseclude)

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Brad MacAllister of CTRL and Blue Images and Benjamin Londa of Exit have been working in the darkwave and chillwave scenes for several years and their first album as Inseclude is a long distance collaboration that mines the darker side of 1980s alternative and electronic rock. From Pennsylvania, MacAllister sent musical ideas to Londa in Texas who added guitars, lyrics and vocals to produce a set of songs that are well made and enjoyable if largely unmemorable. There are a number of contemporary bands doing similar things — Hamilton’s Capitol and Manchester’s Ist spring immediately to mind — taking the Cure, New Order, Sisters of Mercy template and why not? Unfortunately, the passage of time and the law of diminishing returns have led to overfamiliarity with this style of music that makes for easy and perhaps unfair comparisons. When they stretch themselves, Inseclude’s songs do hit. “Sondera” and “Failing To The Pulse” carry some real menace with the juxtaposition of wide-angle synths and paranoid vocals but elsewhere the pair seem held back by a restraint and lack of bottom end that diminish the impact of some pretty decent songs.

Andrew Forell

Kvalia — Scholastic Dreams Of Forceful Machines (Old Boring Russia)

Схоластические Грёзы Силовых Машин by Квалиа

Krasnoyarsk sits on the banks of the Yenisei river in southern Siberia and is known both for the natural beauty of its surrounding landscape and for its primacy as an aluminum producer. Local musicians Aleksander Maznichenko and Aleksey Danilenko reflect the latter on their new five track EP Scholastic Dreams Of Forceful Machines, an icy, metallic collection of post-industrial clang pitched somewhere between Einstürzende Neubauten and early Clock DVA. Their machines are forceful but cranky, rusted, near obsolete. Maznichenko keeps the thrum of turbines is steady but the drum machines lurch and thump, the keyboards whine and scream, the Russian vocals protest their obstreperous charges. Danilenko’s bass is post-punk elastic skipping amongst the raining sparks hinting at a will to dance with his mutant riffs. They sound like they mean it and the result is a terrific EP full of fire, fumes, steam and sweat.

Andrew Forell

Mezzanine Swimmers — Kneelin’ on a Knife (Already Dead)

Kneelin' on a Knife by Mezzanine Swimmers

These songs circle around noise-crusted, repetitive beats, the drumming stiff and mechanical, the riffs chopped to short bursts, the vocals woozy and distended. “Sexy Apology” reiterates a three-note keyboard lick ad infinitum, as main Swimmer Mike Smith drawls the title phrase, similarly on repeat. Yet within this unchanging structure, chaos erupts in detuned keyboards, miasmic feedback and corrosive noise. It’s hard to say whether these songs are too tightly organized or too loose, a bit of both really, and yet, get past the headachy thud and there’s an unhinged psychotropic transport. No one ever said that kneeling on knives would be comfortable.

Jennifer Kelly

Mosca — The Optics (Rent)

Mosca · The Optics [RENT001]

Part of the initial wave of neon-infused dubstep hedonism surrounding the Night Slugs camp at the turn of the last decade, Mosca’s Tom Reid has since survived on the strength of a regular slot behind the decks at NTS and sparingly deployed releases on such renowned labels as Numbers, Rinse, Hypercolour and Livity Sound. “The Optics” debuts his new Rent imprint, conceived as a way to get out music that doesn’t fit in elsewhere. (Originally, this was to be an a-side for a coming AD93 release, but as he says, “There's only so long you can keep a track with a baby crying in it back from the masses.”) Supposedly inspired by the Under the Skin beach scene, the five-minute track immediately throws you off with a dub-heavy shuffle and metallic, alien sounds that zoom around the mix. The main thrust of the melody arrives around a minute in, and gradually the sounds close in on you. There’s bells, birds, a baby crying and then, just when you’re feeling completely stressed out, it all falls away; a driving jungle rhythm carries you the rest of the way. Deeply satisfying dance from a head who hasn’t lost his way.

Patrick Masterson

Prana Crafter/ragenap — No Ear to Hear (Centripetal Force Studio/Cardinal Fuzz)

No Ear to Hear by Prana Crafter / ragenap

When Robert Hunter, the poet who wrote lyrics for the Grateful Dead’s “Dark Star,” “Ripple,” “Truckin’,” “Terrapin Station” and many other songs, died in late 2019, long form psych musicians Prana Crafter (William Sol) and ragenap (Joel Berk) mourned separately but simultaneously. The night he died, both took solace in improvised music, which didn’t so much evoke or represent Hunter, but captured some of their feelings about his work and their loss. When they talked, soon after, they found that both had made lengthy open-ended meditations on the same person. Those two extended pieces make up No Ear to Hear. Prana Crafter’s entry, “Beggar’s Tomb,” is weighted and slow moving, building gradually from simmering drones into towering edifices of feedback and dissonance. Although performed largely on guitar, the sound is filtered through gleaming effects and layers into astral strangeness, a mystic’s trip through mental interiors. ragenap’s “Nightfall” also takes shape slowly out of looming sustained notes and black velvet quiet and sounds that scratch and vibrate at the edges. A solitary acoustic guitar takes up space at the forefront finally, carving a hesitant melody across the hum. The tune turns fuller and more agitated as it progresses, adding layers of feedback and distortion. Neither of these pieces sounds much like the Grateful Dead, and of course, neither has any sort of lyrics. I doubt that anyone, hearing this album for the first time would say, “Oh yeah, Robert Hunter.” And yet inspiration works in strange and, in this case, fruitful ways. You can enjoy this even if you don’t like the Dead.

Jennifer Kelly

Raven Throne — Viartannie (Chroniki Źmiainaj Ciemry) (self-released)

Viartannie (Chroniki Źmiainaj Ciemry) /The Return (The Chronicles of the Serpent Darkness) by RAVEN THRONE

These Belorussian black metal veterans are true materialists. On their seventh album, they show that nature is a social construct, not something given. And boy, their nature is not a loving mother. Unlike many metal bands convey nature via field recordings, Raven Throne craft their ferocious sounds with guitars and drums. Aren’t these as natural instruments as stone and wooden sticks? The atmospheric black metal subgenre has been contaminated by pop and folksy metal so that it’s hard to maintain a truly evil sound, while still bringing the atmospheric elements into it. Raven Throne pull it off. This is how darkness should sound.

Ray Garraty

The Slugs — Don’t Touch Me I’m Too Slimy (2214099 Records DK)

Don't Touch Me, I'm Too Slimy by The Slugs

The Slugs are an exuberantly lo-fi punk pop duo out of London who bash and thump and shout short, acidic ditties about being female, in a band, under assault and under the weather. Liberty Hodes, who is also one half of the comedy duo A Comedy Night that Passes the Bechdel Test, plays a jangling, forceful electric guitar, while her Phoebe Dighton-Brown bangs away in brutal simplicity on the drums. Both sing, sometimes in unison, sometimes in rough harmonies, occasionally in slashing counterparts. (One chants “Feel sick/can’t be sick” while the other rolls out mellifluous “ah-ah-ah-ahs” in “Feel Sick.”) There is a charming, unstudied quality to their music, which is a bit too smart and biting to be primitive, but nonetheless eschews frills. It’s hard to pick favorites—the whole EP is over in five tracks and 11 minutes—but “Pest” is giddy fun, with its slouching, battering guitar-drum motif and slacker choruses. The shout along chorus of “Don’t touch me! I’m too slimy!” is the best thing on the record, hitting a rebellious, unwashed spot of resonance in the work-from-home era. Second best, the gleeful tirade about sleazy male promoters in “Girly Gang” (“Give you all the gigs if you touch my wang”), which builds in round-singing euphorias until it ends suddenly and a la Jane Austen in matrimony (“Married in a dress by Vera Wang”). People are comparing the Slugs to the Shaggs, but that’s just short-hand for banging away anyway without all the training. The Slugs are smarter, slyer and more autonomous, and if they sound a little rough, that’s exactly how they meant to sound.

Jennifer Kelly

Tobin Sprout — Empty Horses (Fire)

Empty Horses by Tobin Sprout

Blessed with one of the finest names in music (alongside dEUS’s Klaas Janzoons), Tobin Sprout is best known for being part of the Guided by Voices line-up that created classic albums such as Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes in the 1990s. Though Sprout’s subsequent solo output has been a steady stream compared to Robert Pollard’s deluge, Empty Horses is his eighth solo album. In it, the now-65-year-old ruminates faith, mortality and American history atop a spare, country-tinged backing. There’s a deep ache to many of these songs, the kind of emotional weight that manifests in pointedly low tempos, sparse drum parts that hang behind the beat and vocal performances that are almost uncomfortably intimate. Running to a succinct half-hour, with many of the songs clocking in at just a couple of minutes each, Empty Horses confronts demons seemingly too pernicious to overcome. Yet, when the music becomes more expansive — such as the graceful pedal steel of “Breaking Down,” the woozy modulation of “Antietam,” or the biting fuzztone of “All In My Sleep” — Sprout sounds like he may be on the verge of making a much-needed breakthrough.

Tim Clarke

Son Lux — Tomorrows I (City Slang)

Tomorrows I by Son Lux

Son Lux’s songs embed unsettling sounds in deep wells of silence, finding disturbing textures in string sounds, electronics, percussion and the fluttering soul falsetto of founder Ryan Lott. Tomorrows I, reportedly the first of three related albums, has a quietly dystopian vibe and a moist, echoing unease that might remind of you Burial’s classic Untrue. A brief, looped, keening violin motif punctures the opening cut, “Plans We Made” with all the threat of Bernhard Hermann’s shower music for the film Psycho, while Lott trills haunted phrases about being afraid to let go. “Undertow,” near the end, brings in a whole string quartet to swoon dissonantly, as a knocking beat (drummer Ian Chang) sounds like a body being dragged across the floor. “Just waiting for the undertow,” sings Lott in the dread empty spaces between, in arias of muted desolation. Minimalist and menacing and mesmerizing.

Jennifer Kelly

Ulaan Janthina — Ulaan Janthina (Part 1) (Worstward)

Ulaan Janthina (Part I) by Ulaan Janthina

Steven R. Smith contains multitudes, and Ulaan Janthina is the latest manifestation of his mutating musical self. This release exemplifies three aspects of Smith’s practice. First, he likes to make beautiful things. Hard copies of this tape come in a custom-oriented box that contains tinted photos, shells and printed communications as well as the cassette. And he’s project-oriented. While other iterations have been devoted to an Eastern European vibe, or guitar noise or a virtual ensemble sound, Ulaan Janthina results from a decision to work primarily with the keyboards in his house. It’s a winning strategy, since his synthesizers, organ and harmonium all benefit from the grittiness of Smith’s recording methodology, and his spare playing style makes his melodies stand out quite starkly from the background atmosphere. Like the name says, this is part one of the Janthina (named for a genus of sea snail that makes its own floating platform — not a bad metaphor for the survival-oriented independent musician) venture; a second, similarly packaged cassette is pending from Smith’s Worstward imprint soon, and a future release is already planned by Soft Abuse records.

Bill Meyer

Various Artists — Spr Blk: Liberation Jazz and Soul From the '70s and Beyond (Paxico)

Liberation Jazz and Soul by Marcus J. Moore

Author Marcus J. Moore (late of The Nation but also found everywhere from Pitchfork to WaPo) has a book on the way in October, The Butterfly Effect: How Kendrick Lamar Ignited the Soul of Black America. In advance of its release via cassette devotees Paxico, Moore cobbled together “rare and somewhat familiar” Black music from his own crates. “These are the kinds of songs I play when walking through New York City or driving through Maryland,” he says in the release. What that means for you is a two-sided mix that burns slower on the A and gets more percussion-heavy on the B. Leading off with Doug Carn’s fittingly titled “Swell Like a Ghost” and featuring jams from Willie Dale, Milton Wright, Ronald Snijders and other lesser jazz, soul and funk lights, it’s a revealing mix that will no doubt pair well with that fall reading you’re about to get going on.

Patrick Masterson

Vatican Shadow — Persian Pillars of the Gasoline Era (20 Buck Spin)

Persian Pillars Of The Gasoline Era by Vatican Shadow

Dominick Fernow is hugely prolific, and most folks with ears tuned to the densely churning worlds of noise and industrial music will be familiar with his abrasive, unsettling output under the Prurient moniker. Fernow’s releases as Vatican Shadow are fewer in number, and more attuned to ambient, even melodic movements and textures. That’s sort of odd, given that the Vatican Shadow records thematize and explore Fernow’s obsession with the history of the Middle East, especially post-9/11 collisions of Western military force, Islamic traditions of resistance and the tactics of terror used by both sides. Relaxing stuff, that ain’t. Consistent with the larger project’s tendencies, Persian Pillars of the Gasoline Era claims an interest in the CIA-coordinated Iranian coup (MI6 helped out, too, those imperial scamps) that deposed Mohammed Mossadeq, installed the Shah Reza Pahlavi and inaugurated some of the principal tensions that have shaped the last half-century of world history. It’s unclear how Fernow’s pulsing, shimmering, sometimes juddering synth sounds are meant to represent or otherwise engage that history. For sure, record art and song titles summon all the right semiotics, sometimes with an interesting edge. But “Taxi Journey through the Teeming Slums of Tehran” sounds more like a malfunctioning MP3 player than a taxi or a “teeming slum” (can we all be done with that phrase now?), and “Moving Secret Money” is pleasantly trance-inducing, rather than insidiously evil. Musically, it’s quite good. The packaging seems to want strike other notes. Maybe that’s the point — too many folks are too busy consuming quietist pop to bother with the grind of the political. But is this the intervention we need?

Jonathan Shaw

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ftchloes · 4 years

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well ... 🤡 . leave me to be very ill - prepared and very late to post my intro , but here it is ! this is my very on love chloe moon , and i’m super excited to be here to plot with everyone ! oop , haven’t introduced myself , but i’m kris ! please feel free to call me momager ( i’m kidding lmao ) , i prefer either she / her or they / them pronouns , and i hail from the east coast ! i’m not gonna lie to ya’ll , i tend to write way too much for my own good , but i want to answer questions ya’ll might have without having to ask ! that being said , here’s everything to know about chloe !

* 𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐬 here and do i have the tea for you . 𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞 is back in bridgehampton for the summer , living off the 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 family $𝟒𝟖𝐛 net worth . must be nice to come back home to the hamptons , i wonder what her fellow class of 2017 grads think of her return . you know , she was known around town as the 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 and for bhs senior superlatives she was crowned as 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐲 . i wonder if that still holds true today , a lot can change when you go off to 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 and study 𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 . either way , i bet she is still very 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 , 𝐝𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 , 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 and 𝐭𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 - 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 . hopefully this time next year the plans to 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 come true . in the meantime , i look forward to seeing her blast 𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐢 - 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬 at every hamptons function . it’s going to be a wild summer home , welcome back .

trigger warning(s) : bullying .

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : chloe moon .

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 : chlo , coco , loey .

𝐚𝐠𝐞 + 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 : 21 + november 10th , 1999 .

𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 : scorpio , sagittarius moon and scorpio sun .

𝐦𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 : istp ; a virtuoso .

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : neutral evil .

𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 : the challenger .

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 + 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 : cis female + she / her .

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 : sydney , new south wales , australia .

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 : bridgehampton , new york .

𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : bisexual .

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : biromantic .

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : social media influencer , heiress , and student .

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 : korean - australian .

𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 : australian .

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 : english , korean , japanese , and mandarin .

i. prosopography .

chloe’s life story begins with the accidental meeting of her parents , moon dae - hyun and kim eun - ha . during that time , the two were living in seoul , south korea and their names were known throughout the social scene of seoul . eun -ha is the son of one of the wealthiest men in south korea , kim han - bin . kim han - bin is the son of the man who started moon industries , a real estate and construction conglomerate that was founded in the 1940s . the company was founded in seoul , and originally started out by purchasing and renovating the beautiful homes and condominiums within the city . after about thirty years in the business , han - bin’s father was one of the first in south korea to reach the status of billionaire .

eun - ha grew up in a life of privilege , whereas dae - hyun grew up in a world where he had to work for everything he wanted . that didn’t stop him from pursuing a degree at seoul national university . where he obtained a degree in architecture . so , when they bumped into one another on the prestigious school’s campus , it was love at first sight . they were so in love , in fact , that the couple married a year of knowing each other . dae - hyun accepted a job designing buildings and homes under kim han - bin , and the two welcomed their first daughters into the world . natalie and nicole were welcomed into the world , and the family lived comfortably in their not - so modest condo in seoul .

within three years , the young family was relocating to sydney , australia as the family business continued to expand . little did the couple know , they were pregnant with their next daughter . six months after moving to sydney , and completely unexpected as she wasn’t due for another three days , their baby girl chloe decided that she was ready to come into the world in the bath tub . they called for an ambulance , but chloe wasn’t one to wait , so she was soon being born into her father’s shaking hands only five minutes after her mother’s water broke . chloe was a beautiful bundle of joy and was a fun baby to be around .

chloe spent her formative years in australia , attending one of the best schools in sydney . during those years , chloe picked up on various talents , most notably playing the cello and developing her skills in ballet . after about six years in sydney , the family decided that they were going to leave the down under and head to the states , where the family was most interested in expanding the company . originally , they settled in atlanta , georgia and after two years ( along with the birth of chloe’s younger sister kai ) , but they moved to bridgehampton at the start of chloe’s seventh grade year .

she easily made friends due to her extroverted nature , but she also faced unexpected bullying . upon moving to the hamptons , her parents were already known because of their purchasing of many of the homes on the island . the family home was one of the largest and most expensive on the island , alongside an equestrian facility . the family was already different from those around them , and thus when chloe started school , she was treated poorly . while everyone around them had money , it was no secret that the moon family lived a life of luxury . chloe was dropped off by chauffeured cars and only wore the best of the best , and it didn’t help that she was whip smart .

chloe was a target of bullying because everyone assumed she thought she was better than them because of her family’s wealth and her grades , but every time she tried to defend herself , she was only mocked because of her australian accent . her spellings was different alongside her wording and phrases , and chloe didn’t know how to handle the constant ridicule . eventually , while still in middle school , she kept to herself and kept up her good grades as it was expected by her parents . she constantly studied hard and began fighting back against the teachers who marked down her assignments because she was allegedly spelling wrong to get the grades she deserved . chloe endured the bullying until the focus was set on someone else , and over the summer before the start of high school , chloe returned to school almost as a brand new person .

high school aged chloe was no longer afraid to defend herself in fear that she was going to be mocked because of her accent . she pursued her passions , joining various clubs and organizations that interested her : tsa , national honor society , student government ( as president ) , and orchestra , where she played first chair cello for all four years . the shy and sweet chloe that people knew before was no longer , as she took refused to roll over since that was not how her parents raised her to be . upon her graduation from high school , chloe graduated as first in their class , and after being accepted into the schools she applied to ( cornell university , the university of pennsylvania , and brown university ) , chloe announced that she was going to cornell for mechanical engineering .

ii. temperament .

due to the bullying she faced as a pre - teen , chloe has become someone who doesn’t hold her tongue anymore . she’s very blunt and is openly against those who really are being bitchy for no given reason . she’s not mean outright , but definitely responds to that kind of energy whenever it’s dished out .

through the years , she began to notice how much her family was really worth , and that developed a true superiority complex . while she doesn’t verbally brag all the time , it’s not unheard of for her to drop subtle jabs here or there while mentioning what she has or laughing at what someone else may lack . she does not like those who are overly nice , and a better way to put it is that chloe’s the mean friend .

she’s not stone cold , though because she doesn’t pretend as though she doesn’t have emotions or is incapable of sympathy / compassion . she’s nice to those who don’t start mess , but if you’re that type then chances are she’ll return that same energy . she likes a challenge and she naturally tends to create chaos for the sake of doing it ( insert cheryl blossom’s iconic , ‘ i’m in the mood for chaos , ’ quote here . )

iii. headcanons .

being a part of cornell’s engineering program comes with a lot of being annoyed every day . it’s filled with a lot of m*n who looked down on her because she’s a woman ( gross ) and even made the jokes wondering if she was in the right class . it mostly stems from the fact that chloe went to class in looks and not looking like she rolled out of bed every day . she never snapped back at them , but she remains as the number one student and those same m*n fight for her to be on their teams .

although majoring in mechanical engineering because her family works in construction and real estate , she focuses in sports engineering because she wants to develop sports for the better . she wants to create state of the art�� sports facilities , design sports equipment , develop performance and safety standards , as well as coaching and training tools .

chloe will 100% stir the pot so don’t tell her your deepest secrets or she’ll find a way to make it known . whether that’s via being shady or toting the news to her friends , she’ll spill your tea and own the fact that she did .

while she loves her designer clothes and accessories , chloe is most comfortable when her contacts are replaced with her glasses and she’s wearing loungewear . i envision her as having jennie’s iconic long hair , so she’s definitely developed a habit of constantly brushing her hair out of her face or pulling it up into a bun only to continue messing with it .

she doesn’t drive her own car because she finds it to be dumb ! just kidding , she doesn’t really like driving but she was never given her own car because she simply didn’t want one . that being said , though , she can usually be seen riding around in her dad’s bentley bentayga .

#entitled:intro #this took me forever ;-;#i am ASHAMMMEDDD

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 12: The Painting

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Awakening Ball is in full swing and the party mood is infectious. But Nadya's natural curiosity isn't always a good thing.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Luckily the orchestra waits to start playing dancing music until she’s two glasses of champagne in and suitably bubbly enough to join.

Adrian offers his hand and promises not to resent her for her two left feet. It’s pretty much the same sweeping classical waltz in every period drama ever but when she starts to lose what little grace she has Adrian picks up the slack — literally. He picks her up off her feet and carries the weight of them both. Lucky for Nadya the skirts on her dress make it impossible for anyone to notice.

Not like anyone would notice her hovering off the floor, anyway. Not when her pining eyes catch sight of Kamilah dancing with a Duchess of some sort in the middle of the crowd.

“I’m sorry.” Adrian whispers in her ear. It only helps because he means it. Because he squeezes her waist a little tighter and does a flashy thing that raises her up in the air with a whoop of joy.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” she’s not lying to Adrian but rather to herself and he knows it, “I’m used to the whole ‘one-sided affection’ thing.”

They part with a bow and curtsy, have to weave together with held hands as guests switch partners and move into a new beat and tempo.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“All part of the finite package.” Because yes, being surrounded by vampires both new and old (and the humans too, but she doesn’t know many of them now does she?) has her thinking about things like that. Who wouldn’t?

Before he can counter with his usual Adrian-brand of optimism Nadya catches sight of familiar faces by a fountain of red wine — or she hopes it’s red wine. God she hopes it’s red wine. She waves eagerly and drags Adrian over to socialize.

Brandon chokes on his sip as he takes in her dress. “Well well! Look what the cat dragged in — and this time sans yoga pants. Bless, I’m so proud.”

In the middle of shaking Greer’s hand Adrian falters. Frowns slightly and already has his arm up to push Nadya back. Like there’s nothing more threatening around them than a gay man with an opinion. “I — what are you implying?”

“Relax Adrian. He’s making a joke about last night.”

“Down, boy-o,” Greer joins in on the teasing, “not that the guard dog routine isn’t mad sexy. We’re just glad to see our girl made it to the actual event.”

Nadya huffs. “I wasn’t that drunk.” The couple exchange an eye roll and even she has a hard time resisting the sass of their combined stare. “Okay, okay! So I was… kinda hammered.”

“Well I’ll give them that one. You originally passed out in Kamilah’s bed.”

It’s something everyone but Nadya seems to find extremely funny. Namely because she doesn’t remember that but she can still hear the voice she’d hallucinated clear as day. It makes her hesitate and think twice about taking a glassful of the fountain’s spoils.

At least her friends are getting along. At least she has friends.

Not long after Brandon waves over a younger woman and introduces her as his twin sister and their vampire connection, Megan. Age difference aside Nadya can definitely see the resemblance but can’t help herself when she feels a little sorry for Brandon’s fate. For the faded freckles on his cheeks and the lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

Megan and Adrian trade comments on vampire life over the last two decades — he offers her and Brandon and Greer a place to stay in New York should they ever need it. There’s a strangely somber air in how the trio thanks him — like a sigh of relief connects them all body and mind.

Greer manages to coax one more drink into her the same way he coaxes her out onto the dance floor. Everything shines with flickering candlelight and the collected jewels and precious metals from all of human history. It’s wonderful, it’s beautiful, it’s magical.

And everyone — every single person — is filled with the same kind of joy and carefree abandon. For a little bit there’s no Feral outbreak in the heart of the city, there’s no fearing for her life or missing her old apartment and missing best friend.

There’s nothing else in the entire world but this Ball, the people attending it, and the memories made.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this!” Nadya announces; uses the spins she’s getting in the head to carry her momentum away from Greer to where Megan is ready to trade partners as well. The music has taken a turn for the boisterous — some Celtic ballad accompanied by an impromptu song from a group of rugged-dressed Highlander attendees.

She reaches out — her fingertips brush the other vampire’s — then the dizziness overtakes her and Nadya feels like she’s hurtling through the sky in freefall.

Comes back to herself to find the decor that was on the other side of the room now much closer. And Kamilah’s hands hold her against the rushing wave in her head.

She wants to laugh — wants to share in the joy of the moment with the one person she wants to make smile more than anything else in the world — but like always Kamilah just leaves her breathless, gasping as they move through the weaving dancers effortlessly.

“Perhaps you’ve had a tad too much wine.” Kamilah admonishes without heat behind her words.

“I’m perfectly sobe — ack!” The word morphs into a desperate cry as Kamilah’s grip slackens. Feigns like she’s going to let Nadya go when she definitely doesn’t have the ability to stand on her own two feet right now. She clings on so hard she can feel every woven fiber of her red dress.

“You were saying?”

“Humans get dizzy, Kamilah. It’s a real thing.”

“Ah, yes. How forgetful of me.”

If you ruin this moment I’ll never forgive you, Nadya thinks to herself — actually takes her own advice for once and just loses all thought and worry in the way Kamilah sweeps her along the floor to the beat. Where their skirts clash like fire and ice but never so much that she can’t feel the solid presence of the woman holding her steady.

When the dance ends a gathering in the middle of the floor all comes together to take hands. Kamilah pulls them away; out into the conversational talkers and wallflowers. It’s eerie how the vampire simply watches Nadya catch her breath — a beauty she’s still foreign to.

“Drink.”

Nadya looks up to see Kamilah holding a glass out to her. She can feel the coolness of the water sliding down her throat, serving as a reminder of just how flustered she actually is.

She remembers at the last second to not wipe her mouth with the back of her arm. Manages a fluttering smile. “T-Thanks.”

Electricity zips through her body then — Kamilah’s touch lifting her chin towards the crystal chandeliers overhead. It reminds her of only a few hours ago in a way her body never got to recover from. A thousand candles lit in her belly all at the same time. Luckily she has the dance to mask her reaction.

All just so the woman can wipe a stray drop of water from the corner of her mouth.

Conversation, girl, come on! She could ask Kamilah any number of things. Familiar faces, balls gone by, even the last time she danced to something so jovial. But there’s a big stone wall between her thoughts and her mouth and it makes Nadya’s heart sink.

“I…”

It takes her a moment to realize — when she no longer feels Kamilah’s touch — that she was the one who pulled away.

“Yes, Nadya? Something to say?”

Shallow, almost panicked breaths… all it would take is a simple step forward…

“I need some air.”

With her skirts gathered in both hands Nadya turns and practically runs in the other direction.

Distantly the clock strikes midnight.

The Ball had opened up to the rest of the castle and surrounding grounds sometime in the middle of her dancing. It was like there was nowhere she could be alone — no place she could feel safe. Surrounded by strangers and knowing that there were enemies among them paired with the churning emotions that couldn’t make sense of her body has Nadya on the brink of breaking down.

The night air does more than beckon her forward. It screams at her, demands she find peace out there where it could be most dangerous. It’s not rational but still she follows — away from the crowds and their pleasant evenings in directions only her feet can understand.

When she comes to it’s in a haze of muddled thoughts in a varietal English she can’t quite catch. Finds her hands grasping onto the metal rungs of a bridge overlooking a dim pond. Through the barest moonlight hiding behind clouds overhead she can see koi flit this way and that; too deep down to stir the surface where fallen flower petals hang abandoned.

A hand rubs soft circles along her exposed back — voice crooning in her ear deep and dark like a cello.

“There there… are you coming back now?”

Nadya snaps back to herself all at once, feels her heart lurch in her chest. The voice chuckles and the hand pulls back.

“Indeed you are. This is where you are told to breathe, yes? In through the mouth, out through the nose… no, that isn’t right.”

Isseya leans back against the same railing; the trails of her dress trying desperately to catch on the faint night breeze.

Or — maybe it isn’t Isseya. Not with the strange kindness in her eyes and the way her lips hold no withheld scorn. It’s definitely like she’s looking at a twin — or a mirror image reflected back in every way. Definitely not the viper from the ballroom… right?

The vampire taps her olive nose; reminds Nadya to breathe in so deep it burns and only when she feels like her lungs are going to burst through her corset does she let it all out.

“Very good,” praises her companion.

She expects Isseya to try and begin a conversation, but instead the woman just… watches her breathe. She seems almost fixated, fascinated by it. Eyes raking down to see her compressed midriff rise and fall. She mimics Nadya twice before seemingly becoming bored with the act. Watches passively instead with an unblinking stillness.

When she has to take in less and less to ground herself is when Isseya speaks again.

“May I ask what that was?”

“What —” Nadya takes in one last gulp of air, “— what was what?”

She’s not trying to deny it; not like it’s the first time she’s ever had a panic attack so strong she blacked out a bit. But the look on Isseya’s face surprises her.

“You’re… I mean — you’re immortal and you’ve never had a panic attack?”

The vampire gives a “ha” of surprise.

“From what would I panic?”

“Uh… stakes, garlic, the sun?”

“No.”

Nothing like staring eternal life in the face and feeling immensely inadequate. But the woman contradicts even her thoughts — still looking at her with what almost feels like awe.

“Such violent reactions to fear I’m not unaccustomed to. But you caused your own fear, did you not? Beautiful…”

Only Nadya doesn’t find it very beautiful at all. When Isseya reaches out as if to touch her again she steps back — manages to keep her footing despite the curve of the bridge. She doesn’t even want to think about the holy hellfire that would rain down on her for ruining a Lacroix dress with pond water.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Forgive me, mortal child.”

“Nadya,” she corrects, “my name is Nadya.”

“Nadya, then. A beautiful name for a beautiful creature. I told Valdas, you know, that you must be a sign sent for us.”

She says it so calmly. Maybe it’s meant to be that way — meant to entice her to know more. It works.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands braced on the railing and face turned away; Nadya doesn’t have to see her to hear the way her voice wavers.

“‘Nadya’ is a name which means hope. Something which my partner and I have lost more and more of with each passing year. You expect the continual passing of years when you Turn, you know. You accept the hunger. Say farewell to the warmth of a sunrise. I even reconciled the knowledge that everyone I would ever know would rot in the ground beneath my feet. But… no one tells you the little things you lose along the way.”

It’s more emotion than she’s ever seen from a vampire — a thought she’s almost angry at herself for having if it didn’t feel so true. Every word Isseya says is heavy with time. They weigh her down and down, deeper and deeper until she wonders how she’s not looking down at the woman from the center of the planet.

She doesn’t know what to say — there’s nothing to say. She’s mortal—finite, dreadfully finite—and doesn’t even have the ability to comprehend what Isseya must be feeling.

And as an extremely empathetic person that’s not something she’s used to. It makes her fumble half-words; noises that definitely aren’t language.

Yet when she finally isn’t burning with shame enough to look at Isseya again she finds the vampire offering her a smile. A weary, dreary thing… but sometimes the thought behind a gesture is more important than the gesture itself.

“Take your time.”

So she does. Actually thinks about what she wants to say before she says it. Makes her wonder briefly what life would be like if she did that more often.

Finally, “Whatever you lost doesn’t sound little at all.”

“No, I suppose he wasn’t.” replies Isseya; makes Nadya go flush with surprise.

“Can I ask who…?”

“His name was Cynbel.”

“Oh. And he was…?”

“My lover, but that is not unlike saying the night sky is only what we see with our eyes.”

Nadya isn’t there to judge anyone. Still, she’s surprised. Hadn’t the other man — Valdas, that was his name — called her his ‘Priestess?’

“Did you, uhm,” she bites her lip, “I mean did you meet Valdas pretty soon after losing him?”

Not a second passes; Nadya almost misses Isseya’s expression change — darken, deepen.

“I forget not everyone is aware of our story, sometimes. Most hear us, our title — Trinity — and simply know. There was a time the word was banned in polite conversation lest it bring down the mood of a party or cause wistful waifs to wilt.

“I’ve forgotten now who coined the name. Cynbel might know… he was quite proud of it. He always cared about titles, you see. Not that it wasn’t apt. The three of us were always together; see one and the other two were not far behind. You know the saying ‘bad things come in threes?’ Probably derived from us.”

That’s when Nadya catches on, gives an “ooooh” of understanding.

“You, Valdas, and Cynbel. You were —”

“We three have a love that may very well burn longer than the stars above us. He used to say that. Loved us hard enough to make us believe it. When he passed it truly felt like the heavens would crumble down without all three of us to hold them up.”

She doesn’t ask what happened though the question burns through her against the cold night air. Maybe it’s something Kamilah can answer — she seems to know them enough. Though that reminds Nadya of their meeting and Adrian — and whatever happened last night.

“I’m sorry for your loss. For both of your losses.”

“Keep your grief. It’s all hollow in the end. We will always be in mourning; every second of every night we must live without him. Because indeed; we must live even if he is no longer with us.

That is the blood oath to which my god and I are bound.”

And doesn’t that make things take a turn for the weird. Makes Nadya have to school herself carefully even if Isseya can hear the change in her heartbeat. Who wouldn’t hear something like that and find it ominous, though? Like a seer’s omen.

Before she can make up some kind sympathy to offer Isseya reaches out — strokes the tip of her nail along the curve of Nadya’s jawline. Yes, it’s totally the night and my bare shoulders making me shiver, she tells herself, totally not whatever weird, semi-erotica is going on here…

“Apologize.”

Nadya blinks out of her stupor. “What?”

“Apologize, I said,” there’s a brief sting, she hardly even notices, but when Isseya pulls back her hand there’s a bead of blood on her fingertip, “for failing to placate me with your undesired grief.”

That’s more than enough. Only when she tries to move away there’s a hand wrapped around her throat that squeezes; takes the words right out of her mouth quite literally.

She didn’t even see the vampiress move. Not a blur or a flash of fang. She simply wasn’t and then she was. And everything in her eyes says Nadya is right to be terrified.

“Go on,” squeezing harder, bringing them so close she can smell Isseya’s honeysuckle breath, “apologize.”

Nadya fumbles around the words; moves her mouth with increasing frantic desperation when no sound, no air, not even a fleck of spittle wants to come out. I’m sorry — I’m sorry!

A tear rolls down her cheek, tickles the edge of her chin and makes her keen in a whimper as Isseya leans forward and flicks the tip of her tongue to catch it. When she pulls back that familiar red stare lurks in the woman’s eyes.

She lets go. Nadya fumbles, falls hard on her backside on the bridge with both hands around her neck like she’s trying to make sure all her skin is still there. She watches up in horror as Isseya licks her lips in satisfaction.

“Your apology is accepted… even if it was pitiful. I expect better from you next time.”

Next time isn’t so much spoken as felt like a breeze; the vampire gone between rapid and pounding beats of her heart. With all her dress it takes Nadya several attempts to collect herself, to scramble up and wipe away her tears and dash in a mad rush towards the castle.

Adrian, she needs to find Adrian.

Marcel’s a generous host — happy not only to help her find Adrian but to escort her around the castle himself. He’s a sweet boy, really, even if he’s old enough to be her great-great-great-many-greats grandfather. Somehow he’s managed to keep his childish sensibilities about him all these centuries.

It dissolves her fear a little. Makes it easier for Nadya to brush off his concern when he points out she keeps rubbing her neck. “I think I made a few mosquitoes pretty happy,” she jokes and all is well again.

He’s not upstairs in the apartment — “He mentioned he lost his key, I think?” — and they might be getting a little off-track when Marcel stops them in the conservatory to show her his collection of night-blooming flowers among what appears to be a cigar-and-whiskey party.

Then he snaps and there’s an invisible lightbulb over his head. Marcel grabs Nadya’s hand and takes off at full youthful speed down a staircase.

“Where are we going?!”

“I know where he is!”

Adrian’s favorite room in the castle is, apparently, the library. Only Marcel doesn’t give Nadya a chance to process her fear of the place before dragging her along inside.

The doors are open, velvet rope cast aside, and they aren’t the only ones milling about. It’s not just a library but an entire museum inside; she barely has time to glance at various glass cases and pedestals while Marcel’s hunt comes to a close.

She doesn’t mean to upset them both in the way she hurtles herself at Adrian, knocking him off balance for a brief moment before his arms come around her. Nadya’s grown used to not caring about the lack of body heat — the solid presence of Adrian is enough to calm her racing heart.

Marcel, however, notices.

“Mademoiselle Nadya… comment ça va?”

Even as her lingering fear subsides the look Nadya flashes up to Adrian tells him all he needs to know.

“I think she just got overwhelmed,” he tells Marcel, whose distress grows. He grabs Nadya’s hand in both of his and kisses her knuckles.

“I hate to know someone was unhappy at one of my parties…” He laments. It’s enough for the part of her so used to pleasing others to force on a smile and extricate herself from her friend to offer the little lord a tight hug.

“I’m having a wonderful time,” she says truthfully, “but Adrian’s right. Not knowing anyone just sort of got to me.”

“How can I ever make it up to you?”

“There’s nothing to make up!”

She holds him at arms’ length and together they smile. Like a miracle she watches his cheeriness return.

“Promettez-vous?”

Hopefully she’s understanding him from context. “I promise.”

She hates lying, even if it was necessary. When Marcel scampers off at the voice of someone he recognizes her smile falls away. Turns to Adrian with tears welling up in her eyes again.

He reaches and pulls Nadya into a tight hug. Kisses the top of her head and rubs his solid hands over her shivering shoulders. “What happened?”

The cliffnotes version makes her sound a little batty. When she struggles to continue, shuffling from foot to foot, Adrian silently coaxes them to continue his stroll through the library’s many objects on display. He’s gotten to know her habits really well, hasn’t he.

“So one minute she’s comforting me — and I guess vice versa — and then the next…” Nadya finishes by showing him the soft bruises on her neck; each in the perfect indent of Isseya’s fingertips. She’s just lucky the other woman hadn’t drawn blood, maybe.

Adrian’s scowl slackens; he pulls them into an alcove away from the immediate sight of others. Before Nadya can even ask what he’s doing Adrian’s fangs flash through his teeth and he pricks the pad of his right thumb.

“Who—wha—oi!” His arm around her keeps Nadya from moving away; he reaches out and smears the welling droplets of blood on her neck like that’s just something that totally happens every day for them. “Gross. Adrian — this is definitely not in my contract.”

Yes it makes him grin, and when he lets her go Nadya catches her reflection in a nearby silver shield. The dark smear of blood remains but the purpling bruises fade right before her eyes. “Oh.”

“Not only is it the least I can offer,” and the handkerchief he offers from his tailcoat breast pocket isn’t something she turns down, “but if Kamilah were to see that —”

She should have expected this. “Better to keep the peace.”

Adrian doesn’t say yes or no to it, but essentially — yes.

“I just don’t get why she changed so suddenly.” She also doesn’t get why Adrian apparently slept with her and Valdas, but that part she leaves out.

They resume walking together while Adrian thinks of a suitable answer.

“She told you about the Trinity, right?”

“That there’s supposed to be three but now it’s just her and the other guy?”

“Well, yes — that. But also why they are named — why they’re important enough to have a title like that.”

Together they leave the library stacks behind and venture through a smaller door into what appears to be a portrait hall. None of the paintings contain solo figures — but they all contain the same sort of classical beauty one would expect to find in world-renowned museums. She tries to place some of the faces — either to the guests she’s seen or what she remembers from her History gen-ed — but doesn’t linger on it.

“The Trinity are an incredibly old trio of vampires. Some would say the oldest around… but that’s not entirely the case.” Nadya wants to ask why he felt the need to play his own Devil’s advocate; instead chooses to let him continue as her eyes sweep over every frozen expression staring down at them.

“No one really knows when they were Turned. Kamilah told me once that they had centuries under their belts while she was still mortal.”

“Scary old vampires, got it. What’s the point?”

“Their age is the point, Nadya. Age is extremely important in what little universal culture we all share. It’s something deeper than just giving your elders respect. It proves an incredible strength, knowledge, in some cases a vast accumulation of wealth… and the cunning to have survived this long without getting killed. And trust me — there were plenty of chances for that to happen.

“The Trinity have always been. Like… how humans look at the pyramids or the Colosseum. And sure they’ve been under the radar for a while but even I remember a time when the very mention of them as a unit meant there was something awful coming on the horizon.”

Nadya stops them in front of a portrait of three. These faces she recognizes — two of them, anyway. The clothing is stiff; the subjects stiffer.

Isseya’s hair is longer but the way tendrils of black hang in her face makes Nadya remember the events of the garden with a shiver. She sits with grace, one hand resting on the lap of her ivory dress and the other lazily reaching upwards to clasp that of Valdas’ where he stands behind her. What the toga was hiding the pressed Victorian suit he’s immortalized in reveals. Somehow the artist managed to capture the almost predatory potential of power hidden in his cut figure.

The face she doesn’t know has taken a knee on the opposite side of Isseya’s chair. His fingers rest over hers just barely entwined. His face is young, strong. Blond hair pulled back in a tie that hangs over his shoulder is an almost feminine way.

Underneath the polished golden frame sits a plaque: ‘The Montes Estate,’ it reads, and below it the date 1876.

“Valdas, Isseya, and…”

“Cynbel.” Nadya finishes for him; draws a look of surprise from Adrian.

“Is that his name? I never knew.”

“Isseya told me. She really misses him.” Even if she’s missing a few screws.

“They both do. And I guess I get it. To be with the same person — the same people — for thousands of years. Only to lose one…”

As his voice trails off Nadya looks up. He, too, looks like the painting in his own way. He’ll look like this forever. Hopefully not as sad; not as weighed down by the way he tries to carry the world on his shoulders… but the same Adrian that stands at her side will probably stand over her grave.

Yikes. Morbid, much?

“I’m sorry.” He takes her hand and squeezes. “Because there’s nothing I can do.”

Nadya’s heart sinks. “About how she attacked me, you mean.”

“Yes. The Ball is a time of peace and, generally, everyone upholds to the rules. Except —”

“The rules don’t apply to the Trinity.” She guesses, but doesn’t get a gold star for being right. She’s not mad at him — not even disappointed. To be honest she hadn’t needed him to do something about it so much as just… be there.

And that is something Nadya knows he will always do. He’ll always be there.

They continue down the line of paintings. Nadya helps Adrian keep his mind off of what he considers his failure by asking him about the people, places, the moment in time that helps bring life to the canvas.

“Marcel’s in this one!” She gestures to one behind them where Marcel — younger of course but he doesn’t look it — in decorative and splendid golden armor. “He didn’t actually go to battle, right?”

“No, it was made for the portrait.” There’s a distant, misty look in Adrian’s eyes as he fixates on the taller figure behind their friend.

Nadya peers to read the plaque. “‘Monsieur Marcellus Claude Philippe Lafayette’ — what a mouthful — ‘and General Banner Westbrook VI.’ Banner… I’ve heard that name before.”

“The library was named in his honor. Marcel took his death hard. They… never really saw eye-to-eye, but it’s that same concept of spending lifetimes with the same person.”

But when she looks up to comfort him Nadya’s surprised to find him staring at the end of the room; at something mounted on the wall but hidden by shadow.

Adrian’s hand closes tighter on hers — takes Nadya a moment to realize he might not be aware of it. Tighter, tighter, until it’s pretty much impossible for her not to wince.

“Adrian. A—Adrian, you’re hurting me. Hey!”

A snap in his face pulls him out of whatever memory he’s trapped in. Makes him pliant as she pulls their hands apart. The redness fades quickly but there’s a lingering ache in her wrist that Nadya rubs slowly.

“I — I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

Before he can say anything Nadya steps around; makes her way to the last frame with her skirts in her hands. “Nadya — wait —” Adrian calls behind her. It doesn’t make her stop.

Only one painting hangs on the back wall. It’s also the only piece with one subject.

The man stands in grace, one foot forward; everything about his stance exuding not only confidence but command. Dark brown hair falls over his face and shoulders in perfect waves — the kind that would take hours to get these days. The artist captured details Nadya didn’t even consider possible; hairs at the crown of his forehead and pores in his perfect skin. Each individual chain link upon his conqueror’s armor.

She’s beholden with wonderment at the beauty of the man until the background comes to her attention. Feels her stomach churn when she sees the full moon behind his head actually appearing to pour moonlight down the canvas. Finds her trembling fingers covering a strangled sound she doesn’t immediately recognize as hers at the sight of faceless, naked corpses in a pile beneath the dais he prostrates upon.

Adrian’s hands come to weigh on her shoulders solemnly. Nadya tries to make the image go away; closes her eyes but it’s burned into the back of her eyelids like a brand. She wants to tear it to pieces, wants to shred the fibers strand by strand…

But somehow she just knows that even if the entire castle went up in flames this painting would remain untouched. Perfectly sanguine until the end of time.

“You know what’s really stupid?” asks Nadya wetly; takes Adrian’s handkerchief to dab at the tears at the corners of her eyes.

The painting’s presence draws Adrian to a whisper. “What’s that?”

She turns and tucks the cloth back into Adrian’s breast pocket. Brushes her hair out of her eyes with a sigh.

“I spent so much time on this stupid makeup and I keep crying.”

Adrian’s first reaction is poising himself to strike; ready to do what he can to make her feel better. It’s so wonderful and the image behind her is so awful that Nadya’s clashing emotions manage the only thing that makes sense: laughter.

Adrian first witnesses her, confused, before he offers his own little chuckle. It’s hollow and forced; when he thinks she isn’t looking she sees his gaze flicker to the monstrosity behind her and grow cold.

Wordlessly they leave the portrait room, then the library. Adrian offers a few polite waves to people unknown to Nadya; mentions something about getting back to the ballroom in enough time to see some performance.

She’s not really paying attention — no matter how hard she tries his words just grow fuzzy like television static. But that’s preferable to the voices echoing between her ears she tries desperately to pretend don’t exist.

“Rise, my Beloved Soldier. Rise and know your King has witnessed your loyalty to Him.”

“Thank you, my King. I am humbled.”

“My Beloved Soldier… my Beloved Adrian.”

Nadya’s at least mostly-percent sure that Kamilah has better things to think about than her tiny mortal self. Tells herself that when they find her back in the ballroom and Kamilah seems to be actively choosing to look everywhere but at her.

Until she notices the smallest smudge in Nadya’s makeup. Then Kamilah is on her, chilly hands cupping her cheeks and turning her head this way and that to examine her state.

“What. happened.” It takes Nadya a second to realize the growl is directed not at her but at Adrian. He silently shakes his head and offers a gentle touch to pry his companion off of her.

Still Kamilah persists; locks her eyes onto Nadya’s and when she speaks it’s soft yet somehow powerful enough to chase the unwanted voices from her mind.

“Are you unharmed?”

Nadya gives a shuddering exhale and nods. “Yeah, Kamilah. I’m fine. I — listen, about earlier —”

“Later.” Kamilah cuts her off curtly. Like she’s been replaced by a doppelgänger. It leaves Nadya feeling like an accessory as the vampires turn to confide in one another.

“Where have you been? You were the one who arranged this during the Ball — you couldn’t even bother to show up on time?”

Before Adrian can defend himself a figure starts towards them from the middle of a crowd. He may be dressed like every picture Nadya’s ever seen of Henry VIII but there’s no mistaking that greasy grin.

Lester claps a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. Squeezes until his knuckles are white and Nadya flinches out of sympathy.

“There you are, Raines my boy,” he practically sneers, “and here we were worried you had better things to do.”

Kamilah says nothing. Adrian pries Lester’s hand from his person.

“I was occupied elsewhere.”

None of them miss how Lester’s eyes travel to Nadya; look her up and down and linger on her chest. She’s starting to consider that his typical form of greeting.

The other vampire snorts. “I bet you were. But you were the one who wanted to ruin a good party with Council business, so let’s get it over with shall we?”

Lester waves two fingers — draws their attention to the others approaching.

Vega’s black suit and red tie somehow don’t do anything for his charming smile but it’s the sight of the Baron’s curled upper lip that sends a whip of panic through Nadya. Make her take a step closer to Kamilah out of some subconscious need to hide behind her dress.

Beside them strides sex on legs; thick waves of hair cascading down her shoulders and the sheer material of her dress catching the lights just enough to see the lingerie beneath.

If anyone’s wing-tip eyeliner could actually stab a man it would be hers: Priya Lacroix.

“I had to turn down a Bulge Magazine sandwich for this shit,” the designer snaps, “so let’s get it the fuck over with before I lose my appetite.”

The Baron fixates on Nadya with a growl.

“Funny. You look just like a cunt I locked up.”

She is so over crying tonight.

“Yeah, well, go screw yourself.”

“Me~ow!” Priya pushes the Baron aside carelessly, ignores the glare he shoots her way, and pulls Nadya out from behind Kamilah to appraise her properly.

“I know I complained about having to make you something at the last minute Adrian… but I take it back. She looks positively yummy.”

Before Priya can even show her fangs she’s moved aside. Kamilah takes the initiative this time to protect Nadya on her own. If she plans on arguing the thought is dashed the moment Priya looks into the older vampire’s eyes. Doesn’t stop her from giving a petulant huff.

“Whatever…”

Vega, however, ignores Nadya’s presence entirely.

“The point stands. We ought to take advantage of this opportunity to discuss certain Council matters.”

“Must it be now?” Adrian asks tersely. The look on Vega’s face says it all. “Fine. But not here.”

Vega agrees. “I’ve already cleared out a parlor for us. Come along.”

Just as Adrian shakes off his fellow Council member’s grasp there’s a scream somewhere at the far end of the ballroom. Loud enough to cause a distraction and awful enough that the Council gathered actually looks towards the commotion.

The orchestra stops mid-chord as a chorus of cries and noises of distress begin to sound. The dance floor empties in the blink of an eye as the dancing vampires rush away from something.

“Stay here.” Kamilah hisses. She and Adrian push the others aside in an attempt to help. Against her wishes Nadya slips out of the uncomfortable presence of the other vampires and around the crowd to edge closer.

A young woman lies, collapsed and prone, in the middle of the floor. She’s seizing; convulses on her stomach. The foul smell of rot fills the fragrant air.

Then the face twitches around and Nadya recognizes her in horror.

“Megan!”

At the same time that Nadya pushes her way forward two familiar faces break away from the crowd opposite. Brandon fumbles and skids on his knees to his twin’s side while Greer kneels behind him, mortified.

Nadya’s skirts billow around her as she ignores Adrian’s distant cry of “Nadya, no!” and brushes Megan’s hair away from her clammy features.

Her skin is greying; veins growing black under Brandon’s touch.

“Meg—Meggie what’s wrong? What’s happening?” He hauls his sister’s head into his lap. That’s when Nadya catches sight of a violent bite mark on her shoulder. It oozes puss and black ichor. Megan tries and fails to respond when she starts foaming at the mouth.

Greer looks around with wild eyes.

“Help! Is someone gonna fuckin’ help her?! What the fuck!”

Nadya fumbles in a panic. Doesn’t know what to do, ends up looking to where Adrian and Kamilah are keeping a very purposeful distance.

“Help her!” She surprises herself by screaming. Adrian moves to step forward but Kamilah jerks him back almost violently.

“Don’t you dare.” The woman seethes — and Nadya grows feverish with panic when she watches Kamilah look upon Megan and Brandon with an expression foreign to her face.

“Kamilah —”

“Adrian Raines, I forbid it.”

“What?!” Brandon tries to hold Megan’s head still, tries to hold her jaw open as her fangs grow and warp before his eyes, “Why won’t you help?!”

Adrian stays put but reaches out; beckons Nadya away.

“Nadya, please. Please get over here.”

“No! Not until you help her!” I can’t believe I’m seeing this.

“She’s beyond help now!” shouts Kamilah. She draws the attention of the entire Ball — takes a deep breath and steels herself to push down an emotion Nadya didn’t think she was capable of.

Fear.

“Nadya — for Christ’s sakes.” He grabs her in a blur and Nadya finds herself wrapped in his arms.

All around vampires and mortals stand and resign themselves to witness as Megan’s seizures increase. As her skin grows dark and chalky and Greer yanks back Brandon when he fails to hold her down.

“What’s happening?” Nadya gasps. Adrian clutches her tighter and his words flood ice through her veins.

“She’s Turning Feral.”

#choices fanfiction #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #kamilah x mc #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: isseya

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dannyreviews · 4 years

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Joker (2019)

I’ve been somewhat lax in watching all the films being recognized at this year’s Academy Awards ceremony because I’ve been busy. Last week, I finally saw the most popular of those films, Todd Phillips “Joker”. It’s hard to believe that the director of “The Hangover” franchise has done a complete 180 and created a dramatic masterpiece that will be part of film history. It straddles between two worlds, the real world and the DC Comics universe, but the former seems to dominate.

In the role of his career, Joaquin Phoenix plays Arthur Fleck, a clown and failed comedian living with his mother Penny (Frances Conroy) in a run down apartment in early 1980s Gotham (New York City). He suffers from mental illness and relies on social services for his medication and well being. After being attacked by delinquents, Arthur receives a gun from co-worker Randall (Glenn Fleshler) as protection. When entertaining children at a children’s hospital, Arthur’s gun falls out and he is fired from his job. At the same time, the state cuts all mental health funding, leaving Arthur without his medication. The last straw is when Arthur is mugged on the subway and kills his assailants while donning his clown makeup. What comes out of this episode, will result in a series of more episodes signalling the end of Arthur Fleck and the genesis of The Joker, a symbol for all the downtrodden walking dead in Gotham.

It’s no wonder that “Joker” has the most Oscar nominations for 2020 with an impressive 11 category spots. Every facet of “Joker” from the art direction recreating crime ridden Gotham/New York City to the cinematography and editing work heightening the sleaze and decadence that surrounds Arthur nonstop. However, what makes “Joker” among the best of the best, apart from Joaquin Phoenix’s performance is the score by Icelandic cellist Hildur Guðnadóttir. One would think that a full symphony orchestra would act as the musical accompaniment to the action, but a cello is actually more effective in accompanying the actions of a mentally ill protagonist. It’s why Guðnadóttir will most likely win the Oscar for Best Score in addition to her Golden Globe.

What can be said about Joaquin Phoenix, the man is The Joker, at least the realistic man that one feels sorry for. While Heath Ledger’s was exaggerated in mannerisms and villainy, Phoenix brings humanity to this character. It’s by watching Phoenix’s Joker that the character almost ceases to be a villain, but an unlucky victim of circumstance. Phoenix’s performance is one of those once in a blue moon opportunities where you forget it’s the actor on screen. The character becomes the real life individual. When Arthur laughs uncontrollably and has mental breakdowns, it’s like watching an actual person on the streets or in a mental institution. What Daniel Day-Lewis’ performance in “There Will Be Blood” was for the 2000s, Joaquin Phoenix’s performance is just that for the 2010s and it took until the end of the decade for it to transpire.

As for the other performances in “Joker”, they’re all outshone by Phoenix which is almost a drawback to having such an excellent leading man. Robert De Niro as Arthur’s idol, late night host Murray Franklin emulates the Johnny Carson type entertainment of yesteryear. De Niro’s presence in the film can be seen as cinematic nepotism due to Joker’s similarity to Travis Bickle and Rupert Pupkin, but De Niro seems to pull it off well. Zazie Beetz is great as Arthur’s neighbor and love interest Sophie, who seems to be have Arthur’s same feelings of being overlooked. Brett Cullen as Thomas Wayne convincingly plays the quintessential sleazebag politician, unlike his past portrayals. And then there’s Frances Conroy, who manages to stand out on her own as “mother of the year” Penny Fleck. If it was any other year, I could see her get an Oscar nomination because in the scenes with Arthur and Penny, you can see an outstanding performance that critics should have paid more attention to.

2019/20 is probably one of the most competitive years of recent memory when it comes to Oscar nominated films. With “1917″, “Once Upon A Time in Hollywood” and “Parasite” to name a few, gaining momentum in the Best Picture race, will “Joker” stand out and win the top prize? It certainly has Oscar wins for Phoenix and Guðnadóttir in the bag and quite possibly a few more, but this film having made $1 billion dollars and making records as the highest grossing R-rated film, it’s very possible that the achievement will be reflected on Oscar night.

9/10

#dannyreviews #joker #todd phillips #joaquin phoenix #frances conroy #glenn fleshler #Robert De Niro #zazie beetz #brett cullen #academy awards #hildur guðnadóttir #batman #dc comics #dc universe

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Don Shirley

Donald Walbridge Shirley (January 29, 1927 – April 6, 2013) was an American classical and jazz pianist and composer. He recorded many albums for Cadence Records during the 1950s and 1960s, experimenting with jazz with a classical influence. He wrote organ symphonies, piano concerti, a cello concerto, three string quartets, a one-act opera, works for organ, piano and violin, a symphonic tone poem based on the 1939 novel Finnegans Wake by James Joyce, and a set of "Variations" on the 1858 opera Orpheus in the Underworld.

Born in Pensacola, Florida, Shirley was a promising young student of classical piano. Although he did not achieve recognition in his early career playing traditional classical music, he found success with his blending of various musical traditions.

During the 1960s, Shirley went on a number of concert tours, some in Deep South states. For a time, he hired New York nightclub bouncer Tony "Lip" Vallelonga as his driver and bodyguard. Their story was dramatized in the 2018 film Green Book.

Biography

Early life

Donald Walbridge Shirley was born on January 29, 1927, in Pensacola, Florida, to Jamaican immigrants, Stella Gertrude (1903–1936), a teacher, and Edwin S. Shirley (1885–1982), an Episcopal priest.

Shirley started to learn piano when he was two years old. He briefly enrolled at Virginia State University and Prairie View College, then studied with Conrad Bernier and Thaddeus Jones at Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C., where he received his bachelor's degree in music in 1953.

Known as "Dr. Shirley," he had two honorary doctorates.

His birthplace was sometimes incorrectly given as Kingston, Jamaica, because his label advertised him as being Jamaican-born. According to some sources, Shirley traveled to the Soviet Union to study piano and music theory at the Leningrad Conservatory of Music. According to his nephew, Edwin, his record label falsely claimed that he studied music in Europe to "make him acceptable in areas where a Black man from a Black school wouldn’t have got any recognition at all."

Career: 1945–1953

In 1945, at the age of 18, Shirley performed the Tchaikovsky B-flat minor concerto with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. A year later, Shirley performed one of his compositions with the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

In 1949, he received an invitation from the Haitian government to play at the Exposition Internationale du Bi-Centenaire de Port-au-Prince, followed by a request from President Estimé and Archbishop Joseph-Marie Le Gouaze for a repeat performance the next week.

Shirley was married to Jean C. Hill in Cook County, Illinois on December 23, 1952, but they later divorced.

Discouraged by the lack of opportunities for classical black musicians, Shirley abandoned the piano as a career for a time. He studied psychology at the University of Chicago and began work in Chicago as a psychologist. There he returned to music. He was given a grant to study the relationship between music and juvenile crime, which had broken out in the postwar era of the early 1950s. Playing in a small club, he experimented with sound to determine how the audience responded. The audience was unaware of his experiments and that students had been planted to gauge their reactions.

Career: 1954–2013

At Arthur Fiedler's invitation, Shirley appeared with the Boston Pops in Chicago in June 1954. In 1955, he performed with the NBC Symphony at the premiere of Ellington's Piano Concerto at Carnegie Hall. He also appeared on TV on Arthur Godfrey and His Friends.

During the 1950s and 1960s, Shirley recorded many albums for Cadence Records, experimenting with jazz with a classical influence. In 1961, his single "Water Boy" reached No. 40 on the Billboard Hot 100 and stayed on the chart for 14 weeks. He performed in New York City at Basin Street East, where Duke Ellington heard him and they started a friendship.

During the 1960s, Shirley went on a number of concert tours, some in Southern states, believing that he could change some minds with his performances. For his initial tour, in 1962, he hired New York nightclub bouncer Tony "Lip" Vallelonga as his driver and bodyguard. Their story is dramatized in the 2018 film Green Book, the name of a travel guide for black motorists in the segregated United States. In the fictionalized account, despite some early friction with their differing personalities, the two became good friends. This has been questioned by Don's brother Maurice Shirley, who said, "My brother never considered Tony to be his 'friend'; he was an employee, his chauffeur (who resented wearing a uniform and cap). This is why context and nuance are so important. The fact that a successful, well-to-do Black artist would employ domestics that did not look like him, should not be lost in translation."

However, in a January 2019 interview with Variety, Tony's son Nick Vallelonga explained that: "They were together a year and a half and they did remain friends". He also explained that Shirley, before his death, asked him not to speak to anyone else while writing the story. He went on to explain: "Don Shirley himself told me not to speak to anyone. And he only wanted certain parts of his life. He only allowed me to tell what happened on the trip. Since [the family] were not on the trip—this is right out of his mouth—he said, 'No one else was there but your father and I. We've told you.' And he approved what I put in and didn't put in. So obviously, to say I didn't contact them, that was hard for me because I didn't want to betray what I promised him."

The film controversially depicts Shirley as estranged from his family and alienated from other African Americans. Shirley's surviving family members disputed this, stating that he was involved in the Civil Rights Movement, attended the 1965 Selma to Montgomery march, and had many friends among other African American artists and leaders. He had three brothers, and according to his family kept in contact with them. Author David Hajdu, who met and befriended Shirley in the 1990s through composer Luther Henderson, wrote: "the man I knew was considerably different from the character Ali portrayed with meticulous elegance [in Green Book]. [Shirley was] cerebral but disarmingly earthy, mercurial, self-protective, and intolerant of imperfections in all things, particularly music, he was as complex and uncategorizable as his sui generis music."

In late 1968, Shirley performed the Tchaikovsky concerto with the Detroit Symphony. He also worked with the Chicago Symphony and the National Symphony Orchestra. He wrote symphonies for the New York Philharmonic and Philadelphia Orchestra. He played as soloist with the orchestra at Milan's La Scala opera house in a program dedicated to George Gershwin's music. Russian-born composer Igor Stravinsky, who was a contemporary of Shirley's, said of him, "His virtuosity is worthy of Gods."

Death

Shirley died of heart disease on April 6, 2013, at the age of 86.

Discography

Tonal Expressions (Cadence, 1955)

Orpheus in the Underworld (Cadence, 1956)

Piano Perspectives (Cadence, 1956)

Don Shirley Duo (Cadence, 1956)

Don Shirley with Two Basses (Cadence, 1957)

Improvisations (Cadence, 1957)

Don Shirley (Audio Fidelity, 1959)

Don Shirley Solos (Cadence, 1959)

Don Shirley Plays Love Songs (Cadence, 1960)

Don Shirley Plays Gershwin (Cadence, 1960)

Don Shirley Plays Standards (Cadence, 1960)

Don Shirley Plays Birdland Lullabies (Cadence, 1960)

Don Shirley Plays Showtunes (Cadence, 1960)

Don Shirley Trio (Cadence, 1961)

Piano Arrangements of Spirituals (Cadence, 1962)

Pianist Extraordinary (Cadence, 1962)

Piano Spirituals (1962)

Don Shirley Presents Martha Flowers (1962)

Drown in My Own Tears (Cadence, 1962)

Water Boy (Columbia, 1965)

The Gospel According to Don Shirley (Columbia, 1969)

Don Shirley in Concert (Columbia, 1969)

The Don Shirley Point of View (Atlantic, 1972)

Home with Donald Shirley (2001)

Don Shirley's Best (Cadence, 2010)

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