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argylemikewheeler · 3 years

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July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

#stonathan #jonathan byers x steve harrington #byeler #will byers x mike wheeler #byler #finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja #prompts #my fics

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

Note

Can you please tell us about the whole scenario where MC gets kidnapped and Comte rescues her? The one with the CG I mean.

Sure thing! I’ll do my best to relay the events accurately, as this is one of my favorite moments in his rt~

Sizable Comte rt spoilers below, pls don’t click if you’d like to wait for the ENG release!

Okay so some much needed context before I delve too deep. In the first few chapters of the route, MC debuts in French high society (introduced by Comte as a friend’s heiress from overseas). As such, the better part of the Parisian population knows MC as somebody of noble birth. This is important moving forward.

One day while she’s in town she goes out with a friend upon request (also of high rank, somebody she met and made friends with at her debut) and Sebas encourages her to have fun before meeting up again to return home. Problem is, there has apparently been a great deal of unrest among the people in the lower rungs of the social ladder. Joblessness has been a prominent issue, and so a group of men decide to target members of the elite in order to force them to give a damn about the problem. In their desperation, they choose to abduct MC and her friend and tie them up in separate locations.

The other young lady’s butler/servant is present when they’re taken, but is unable to do anything to stop them. Surprising no one, he races over to find Sebas and tell him what’s happened. Naturally, Sebas is beside himself and takes the man with him in order to alert Comte. And Comte.........well........let’s just say he does not take the news well to say the LEAST. He hears them out, goes silent and it shows his furious sprite, and he’s about to storm out when Leonardo appears out of nowhere after he says MC’s name raggedly. (Note: not that odd bc purebloods seem to be able to sense each other’s feelings easily, and it’s likely he was responding to Comte’s acute and sudden distress). Leonardo has to grab Comte’s shoulder and tell him to calm down before he collects himself again, and then he leaves with Napoleon and Jeanne to go find them asap.

Iirc, Sebas/the other residents take up the task of alerting the police and trying to find more information while the search party is underway. There is a hilarious tidbit I’d like to share, only because it’s uproarious and makes me laugh every fucking time I translate it fdkhdgdjfsf. So basically they’re all trying to figure out what’s going on, until Sebastian mentions the whole coalition of impoverished people looking to get back at high society for the financial inequities of the historic moment. Now Mozart, in a moment of brilliant word association, says “Oh, well yeah under those circumstances that would make MC the ideal target.” And I fucking. Isaac just turns around and is like. “Could you not. Say it like that. When our dad is hAVING A FUCKING MELTDOWN AND A DISPLACED HUMAN WOMAN IS IN MORTAL DANGER. COULD YOU MAYBE NOT???? JUST THIS ONCE.” And I just fucking lose it every time????? Like are those not the most Mozart-core and Isaac-core responses imaginable????? Mozart being so focused on the logic of the situation he just doesn’t seem to be able to read the room/keep in mind how upset Comte might be. Isaac being HYPERSENSITIVE to the emotions in the room and being MORTIFIED that Mozart wouldn’t word things more carefully.

Also a short note since I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. One parallel between Comte and Isaac I find utterly fascinating is that the two seem to share a formidable understanding when it comes to anxiety especially. Despite how composed Comte appears in the game, we later see more and more evidence of how deeply anxious he is when it comes to his future and the prospect of sudden loss. As a result, I feel like their biggest difference lies in the fact that Comte is a great deal older--so he has an easier time concealing/stifling/de-escalating his anxious responses. Even so, they seem to share difficulty in maintaining emotional distance. If Comte doesn’t exercise control, he gets too close to people, and the inevitable fallout (since they usually die first) is devastating. I think Isaac operates similarly, but his anxiety was so overwhelming he didn’t manage to get that close to most of the people in his time (Essentially, he doesn’t have the same charisma Comte possesses and he hasn’t lost as many people consecutively as Comte has).

Moving right along. So! Comte and our swashbuckling friends (the Baguettes, as I like to call them) pinpoint the location/bunkers where MC and her friend are being kept against their will. (They find them after they receive a tip as to where the two ladies were last seen in town.) I’d like to note that in Comte’s POV of this chapter, he continuously blames himself for everything that’s happened. Saying that if he had been more careful, if he had done the right/smart thing and kept his distance, then she would have been out of harm’s way. (I disagree in that, when trouble seeks to find you it’s usually more a matter of entropy). In the midst of his agonizing, his mind goes to the worst case scenario and he forces the terror down--desperately wishing that he isn’t too late.

So our bois split up into two groups, one being Comte and the other being Napoleon and Jeanne (yes this is Area 51 and Comte literally does Naruto run--but he doesn’t dodge the bullets bc they can’t kill him). Naturally our pureblood wonder manages to take out all the guards present and kicks down the door to where she’s tied up. The moment he sees her relief floods him and he rushes forward, untying her immediately. MC sees him covered in wounds--blood and torn clothing as far as the eye can see--and has a moment of genuine shock. She’s so used to the immaculate and ethereal appearance (not a hair out of place) that seeing him so disheveled and wild-eyed startles her. He asks her if she’s injured anywhere and she’s able to confirm she’s fine. He seems to be unable to register that she’s alright until she says those words, and he draws her close in his arms and starts shaking. She’s surprised again by his sudden proximity, but when she feels him trembling she hugs him back and strokes gently along his back, murmuring over and over again that’s she okay. She feels fine, she’s safe now.

In his POV, he speaks to the terror of her life lost that was weighing on him. He’s only able to verify that she’s alive when he feels her body heat, can feel her heart beat, can feel her arms moving--that’s why he hugs her; to have undeniable evidence that she’s still breathing. He hates himself for being so fragile, for being so needy, but melts under the gentleness of her touch.

Before the scene ends, MC hears his broken mumble at her shoulder: “Thank goodness...I don’t want to lose anyone anymore.”

And just to make it hurt even more! From Comte’s POV it reads (the brackets are his unspoken thoughts):

"I......I don't want to lose anyone.......anymore" [I don't want to lose you... She hugs me back and her hands stroke gently along my back, as if cradling my heart. Her hands are so warm, proof that she's alive. You're so strong.....and so, so gentle. I know I should be prepared to say goodbye. I know I shouldn't be doing this. But I don't want to let you go...]

;-; I just. Every single time I read those lines I just start sobbing. He’s so tired of being alone, so exhausted. He loves her so much!!!!!!! He just wants one moment of PEACE GOD DAMN IT, LEAVE HIM ALONE CYBIRD!!!!!!!!!!!!

ANYWAY the story then skips to the aftermath, where Comte is back to his usual collected self. He’s at his desk doing his work (as usual) when MC comes in asking about how everything's going. He explains that he was able to find work for the people who attacked her, citing once again the concept of “Noblesse Oblige.” (For those unaware, it means “noble obligation” in French and alludes to this notion that the wealthy/privileged parties of society have nothing short of an obligation to use their resources in service to the less fortunate.) MC starts gushing about how both her and the police are really impressed by his ability to forgive them and help them anyway. This is where Comte drops that L E G E N D A R Y line where he says “Forgiven them? I never said I had forgiven them. On the contrary, the only reason I’m doing this is because they left you unharmed.” with that chilling smile.

So like. Get you a fucking mans that has the ability to pretend everything’s fine when you get abducted, beat the shit out of your assailants to free you, have a panic attack after you’ve been secured, and then still manages to have the grace to help the people that put him through his literal worst fear imaginable/re-traumatizing him even if they didn’t know it. This was essentially the scene that made me fall 100% in love with him. It was one of the first moments of profound, undeniable proof that not only does he care about people--he cares so deeply it shakes him to the very core. There’s just something....so moving about the fact that no matter how hard he tries to pretend that he’s distanced from something/someone, beneath that persona you just find a veritable avalanche of compassionate feeling/love.

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp comte #comte rt spoilers #man i wish i could convey how hard this chapter shook me to the core #i think that's why i don't mind the whole hot and cold in the writing of his rt--it really WORKS rather than being annoying af #i mean its so easy to believe he's removed from it all bc he stays quiet #tries not to be irresponsible--tries to be mindful of her situation and respect her feelings #bc the reality is that they have an enormous power and life imbalance #even if he does sincerely love her--and I honestly have absolutely zero doubts he does--being too hasty would be dangerous #esp given what he wants: he's not looking for a fling--he wants somebody to be with for a long long time #but he also knows that his considerable lifespan has given him quicker insight into that #this doesn't make MC stupid by any means--but at twenty-ish there are plenty of things a person has not yet seen or can't yet recognize #honestly? i think his decision to hold off and only decide when MC was sure--when she had seen every aspect of what it means #to be a pureblood--was the most responsible move. even if he was sure of his feelings early on i like that he gives her time #yet i like that his self-control is also less than perfect; i think it proves the dual sincerity of his attraction and desire to protect he #idk if i can explain it adequately but he just feels so balanced; the perfect combination of mindful but also flawed #it's even more interesting to me bc his charisma seem to function on two levels; the first kind he exudes on a basic level #being attentive to what's important to people/replying to letters and keeping in touch/conversing at parties eloquently #its the kind that draws people in initially and can often be what keeps them in his orbit (kind of like with the workers)#the second is so gradual and masterfully honed that it gets to the point where he believes himself to be insidious #though idk if he actually means any harm i'd wager it's more that he knows what he wants deep down and inevitably acts in line with it #its fascinating bc he seems to deem it premeditated and wrong but even he doesn't seem to be openly aware of his feelings until later on #he's insatiable but also capable of recognizing that--tries to tone it down if it goes too far #or at the very least offer MC something in return: all of his love and anything her heart may desire #just as he says he really IS a mass of contradictions sometimes--which explains why he seeks out someone that's firmly grounded #somebody that knows what they want/what's important to them/and can help stabilize him when he gets a little lost #I LOVE HIM IF YOU COULDN'T TELL OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH FROM ME

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queerchoicesblog · 3 years

Text

The Understudy

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

I took the liberty to add a few Italian words every now and there so here are all the useful translations that might come in handy as you read: cara (dear, female adjective), una meraviglia (a true wonder).

Tagging: @scottishqueer

Previous wlw miniseries: Ancient Greece, Italian Renaissence, Belle Epoque Paris, Sixties.

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

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"So...will you do it?" The voice is calm just like the honeyed smile on her lips, but the look in the primadonna's eyes is unmistakable: the great Adriana Ferrarese can't wait to see me out of the door. She's a seasoned professional, she knows how to conceal her displease but I'm not dumb: a jewelled hand rested over Da Ponte's tight and eyes following every single move I make, every single breath I take, she's clearly conveying that my presence is no longer welcome here. It never was, I think: it surely wasn't her idea to invite me here today! Has she tried to dissuade the Maestro from summoning me, I wonder? I'm surprised she failed: you know what they say, feminine wiles can work miracles on men, make them change their minds like a vain girl changes clothes yet...here I am. And she's fuming underneath her well practiced poise. Poor Ferrarese, my blonde curls, my youth must be a threat to her especially in front of him. Ah, I knew that the rumours were true: she's the Italian operatic librettist's mistress! Cunning little devil...of course she gets all the best roles now. Before everyone else.

I join her game and pretend not to notice the subliminal messages she keeps throwing me. I fan myself nonchalantly, pondering the offer I've just received. I am a bit confused: I really don't know what to think of it or how to take it. "Let me get this straight, Maestro" I say, ignoring her and addressing Da Ponte. "You beg me to come here with great haste and ask me to be a last minute understudy for a...page role?" I may not be as famous as his mistress but it's an insult! True, my career hasn't reached its peak yet but I'm not the new girl desperate to get a role: I have adoring admirers throwing flowers and screaming my name whenever I walk into the stage after the grand finale. Who does he think he's talking to? He must understand my disappointment because he's quick to reassure me. "Miss Constanze, Cherubino is not a simple page" he smiles apologetically. "The whole opera revolves around the world of counts and servants, you know Herr Mozart is an innovator, an unconventional spirit...if I remember correctly, you have already worked with him" "Correct" I concede. I'm curious to see where this is going, how he will convince me to accept this. "Well, this new opera has already been a success and trust me: the people of Vienna won't tire of it anytime soon! And the role we kindly asked you to be an understudy for is the most loved by our audience, I assure you. Ask around if you don't believe me: those who attended the opera are head over heels for the Count's page, they recall his scenes, sing his arias underneath their breath...the audience is crazy for him! That's why we couldn't ask just anyone to replace the original singer, but only a refined, talented woman like you, Miss Konstanze" There's a note of pride in his voice. I must give him, it's not surprising that there servant or unconventional roles in Mozart's operas - in The Abduction from the Seraglio I played one of the harem girls - but by the brief description he gave me of the plot I cannot bring myself to understand how the audience can fall in love with a page who doesn't even have an aria for the whole third act and is constantly sidelined. It doesn't make sense: it's a recipe for oblivion to my ears. But he's right: the Wedding is the talk of the town so I should probably say yes anyway, even if no, I don't enjoy the idea of being sidelined. I mean, we all want to glow on stage and bask in the light and audience's adoration. We want their applauses meant for us alone, ringing in our ears when the curtains raise for one last blessed time, we want flowers thrown at us, we want glory. And I am not sure this Cherubino will be my ally on that front if there are two major romances in the main plot already. And even if the audience showed a liking for the page, well I must remember I am not the first singer so my performance will not avoid comparisons. The Maestro speaks again, derailing my line of thoughts. "You see, dear Miss Constanze, Cherubino is not a main character yet he is essential to the plot: without him the whole story wouldn't make sense! One could say that he bears the comedic side of the opera over his young shoulders and even if he doesn't get as many arias as other characters, oh, his are as sweet as cherries, una meraviglia! No wonder the audience loves him...and the restricted number of arias to study might help you prepare properly within such a short notice if you kindly offer your help-" "I would have prepared properly even if I had the double amount of arias within such a short notice, caro Maestro" I interrupt him, just in case he forgot who he is talking to, again. He bows his head, dramatically placing a hand on his heart in display of apology. "But of course, your outstanding professionalism is not questioned here, Miss. To prove it, let me tell you that Herr Mozart was particularly happy when I suggested your name for poor Dorotea's understudy". His mistress' smile is now so tight I have to summon every ounce of professionalism to refrain myself from bursting into a loud insolent laughter. "That's incredibly kind of you, Maestro: I really don't know how to thank you" I purr instead, unable to resist: how could I miss a chance to tease - and piss off! - the primadonna? La Ferrarese throws me a side look I will never forget: I wonder if she has a dagger hidden underneath her skirt and will chase me in the streets in the heat of jealousy when I turn my back at her. Sounds like a scene out of one of those Italian operas, I consider, amused. Do Italians do that offstage too? She only has to dare though: I am younger than her and I have claws too. "Say yes then, Miss" he proposes, radiant. "If you ask me, Herr Mozart thinks you are the best choice and the perfect Cherubino. Say yes, cara Constanze". His face is an expectant plea and I have a feeling that if his mistress wasn't here, he would be begging me on his knees to accept this role. Honestly, I don't know what to make of Herr Mozart's comment about me being just "perfect" to pass for a boy...am I not feminine enough for him in my skirts, tight corset and jewellery a wealthy admirer keeps giving? Whatever. That man is a genius maybe but he's certainly a weirdo. But I think I should accept: it's not the most flattering offer but no one reached the top without taking an understudy role at least once. And so here I am, a week later, in the room of one of Da Ponte's personal friends and composer to help me prepare for the new performance. I don't have much time, not even a month, but his flattery won me. I can do this. I must admit that I'm secretly happy to know that Herr Mozart won't direct the new revivals: he's a brilliant composer and musician but I still remember his wandering hands. I don't think any woman who worked with him - or simply has been around him for more than a bunch of minutes, I wager - got away without a pinch or a breast squeeze. I fail to understand why so many girls fall madly in love with him or at least confess they can't resist his charm. Even his wife still giggle like a child and melt in front of his "Wolfie", despite his endless and well known - and rather squalid, if you ask me - affairs! I mean, not that this Melchiorri is any different: by the so very discreet looks he keeps throwing at my décolleté or by the way his hands linger a bit too much on my hips when he insists to fix my posture, I bet he wouldn't mind me as his mistress. Another lecherous wop, excellent. I've been around so many by now that I know them by heart: honeyed words, usually blabs a lot in a dreamy voice of how they miss Venice or whatever dear hometown they come from and how much you remind them of this or that flower or woman of their childhood. Too many compliments, strong accent hoping you would fall for their exoticism, fine clothing. Just like Mr. Melchiorri. He's from Milan and is a close friend of Salieri. Sometimes I cannot help but wonder if we let too many Italians here in Vienna: sadly, so far they rule the world of the opera and our Emperor is head over heels for them. Ah, better not tell the Empress> she might throw ond hell of a jealousy tantrum! Melchiorri is very gallant, almost regal even if he loses his composure when he speaks of music. He often asks to excuse his passionate temperament with an apologetic smile but I can't shake my mind that this is just a subtle hint to another passionate temperament he would die to show me if the lingering stares he gives me, mesmerised, as I bite the Italian delights he has ready for me - "delivered directly for you, mia cara, from Italy" - every time I visit him for our private sessions are any indication. They're chestnut chocolate truffles with a pinch of brandy, I wager, covered in withe chocolate with a ruby cherry on top. They're called "capezzoli di Venere", that is nipples of Venus, he revealed one day, a mischievous smile on his face: he was probably hoping to shock me or see me blush profusely. Instead, I barked out a laughter and took a generous bite. I regretted it when he bit his lip clearly refraining himself for making another move. But at least he's a good teacher, I make progresses fast. I've been around too many Melchiorris and Herr Mozarts to be bothered. I mean, obviously I'm bothered that most men thinks we opera singers are just harlots in fancier dresses when we broke our backs studying languages, music and singing hard since a very early age. We didn't sacrifice the best years of our lives only to be mistaken for mannequins with a melodious voice when we sing the arias they wrote. But that's what it is and I must focus now. And it's so difficult at times with men like these. Just like when one day the door of his studio slams open out of the blue while I'm rehearsing an aria and a little boy of three, four years maybe runs inside laughing. He's visibly proud of evading whoever was asked to look after him. True to his "passionate temperament", Melchiorri is suddenly furious. He barely looks at the child and shouts out the name of the unfortunate servant before profusely apologise to me. A terrified young maid comes running and soon chaos takes hold of the room: Melchiorri alternates between tight apologetic smiles in my direction and not so gallant curses he thinks I do not understand to the the poor maid who chases the cheeky little boy with great effort but little success. I must admit it's rather amusing even if I'm wasting my time. Suddenly I have an idea. When finally the maestro shuts up to catch breath, I sing an impromptu elaborate thrill at full voice. The little boy freezes and turns towards in awe while the maid wraps her arms around him: caught! Melchiorri needs a moment to process what happened while the girl flashes me a quick, grateful smile. "There, emergency solved" I announce, beaming. "Can we proceed now, Maestro?"

#wlw writing project #wlw writing #wlw miniseries #original work #lgbtqa+#vienna #opera

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writemarcus · 3 years

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Heartbeat Opera Announces 2021-2022 Season

Highlights include MESSY MESSIAH, FIDELIO, and more.

by Chloe Rabinowitz

Aug. 10, 2021

HEARTBEAT OPERA will return to the in-person stage for its eighth season this year. Heartbeat's 2021-22 season kicks off in September with a free outdoor screening of BREATHING FREE, their visual album that connects Beethoven's Fidelio with the work of Black composers and lyricists such as Harry T. Burleigh, Langston Hughes, and Anthony Davis to manifest a dream of justice, equity, and breathing free. BREATHING FREE builds on Heartbeat's 2018 work with incarcerated singers and prison choirs, and continues its exploration of race and the American prison system. Then in December, Heartbeat's beloved annual drag extravaganza, MESSY MESSIAH, returns after six years of Halloween shenanigans for a new Christmas special. Looking ahead to winter 2022, Heartbeat plans to go on its first-ever tour, remounting its production of FIDELIO, which Joshua Barone of The New York Times called "urgent, powerful, and poignant," for seven performances across four cities, kicking off at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Heartbeat will later present its pilot production of NO EVIL projects, QUANDO, ossia Project "0," which is co-produced with Long Beach Opera and refashions music from Verdi's operas La Traviata and Don Carlo and Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice into a 25-minute short film. Heartbeat also continues to work on its first-ever commission, THE EXTINCTIONIST, an opera by Heartbeat Co-Music Director Daniel Schlosberg, librettist Amanda Quaid, and Heartbeat Co-Founder & Resident Director Louisa Proske. The Extinctionist wrestles with climate catastrophe and with one woman's unorthodox choice, with the goal of presenting its world premiere in winter 2023.

At the helm are Artistic Director Ethan Heard, Associate Artistic Director Derrell Acon, Co-Music Directors Jacob Ashworth and Daniel Schlosberg, and Managing Director Annie Middleton. Heartbeat Opera was founded in 2014 and has since grown from an indie "start up" into an internationally recognized player, consistently hailed as a leader in envisioning the future of opera.

The 2021-22 Season

BREATHING FREE, a visual album

September 18 at Pier 63, Hudson River Park Trust At dusk A free outdoor screening with live performances (Additional future screenings TBA)

Focusing on Black empowerment in the arts

Featuring excerpts from Beethoven's Fidelio, Negro Spirituals, and songs by

Harry T. Burleigh,

Florence Price

Langston Hughes

Anthony Davis

Thulani Davis

Director:

Ethan Heard

Filmmaker: Anaiis Cisco

Creative Producer: Ras Dia

Co-Music Directors: Jacob Ashworth & Daniel Schlosberg

Movement Director: Emma Jaster

Watch Breathing Free Trailer

2021 Drama League Award Nominee for Outstanding Digital Concert Production

In 2018, Heartbeat collaborated with 100 incarcerated singers in six prison choirs to create a contemporary American Fidelio told through the lens of Black Lives Matter. In 2020-the year of George Floyd's murder, a pandemic which ravages our prison population, and the 250th anniversary of Beethoven's birth-they curated a song cycle, brought to life in vivid music videos, mingling excerpts from Fidelio with Negro Spirituals and songs by Black composers and lyricists, which together manifest a dream of justice, equity... and breathing free.

Jamilyn Manning-White in DRAGUS MAXIMUS, photo by Andrew Boyle

MESSY MESSIAH

December 16 at 8pm and December 17 at 7 and 9:30pm at Roulette in Brooklyn

Directed by

Ethan Heard

Music Directed by Jacob Ashworth

Arranged by Daniel Schlosberg

Watch WNET's ALL ARTS feature on Heartbeat's drag extravaganzas

Heartbeat's beloved annual drag opera extravaganza returns in all its glory this December. Over the past seven years, Heartbeat has presented six fabulous extravaganzas at venues across Brooklyn: Hot Mama: Singing Gays Saving Gaia; Dragus Maximus: a homersexual opera odyssey; All the World's a Drag! Shakespeare in love...with opera; Queens of the Night: Mozart in Space; Miss Handel; and Purcell's The Fairy Queen. These interdisciplinary celebrations playfully mix opera classics with pop culture and drag to create an otherworldly experience that encourages audience members to embrace opera in new ways.

This year, the show moves to December-just in time for Christmas. Featuring familiar tunes by Handel, Tchaikovsky, Berlin, and many more, this naughty pageant celebrates the holidays with wit and warmth. Expect tradition...with a peppermint twist.

Kelly Griffin in FIDELIO, photo by Russ Rowland

FIDELIO

Heartbeat's first tour

February 10, 12 & 14, 2022 at Met Live Arts, New York City February 19 at The Mondavi Center, UC Davis, California February 22 at The Scottsdale Performing Arts Center, Arizona February 26 & 27 at The Broad Stage, Santa Monica, California

Music by Ludwig van Beethoven Original libretto by Joseph Sonnleithner & Georg Friedrich Sonnleithner Adapted & Directed by Ethan Heard Arranged & Music Directed by Daniel Schlosberg New English Dialogue Co-Written by Marcus Scott & Ethan Heard Featuring Derrell Acon (Roc), Curtis Bannister (Stan), Kelly Griffin (Leah), Victoria Lawal (Marcy), Tim Mix (Pizarro) and more than 100 incarcerated singers in six prison choirs

Heartbeat was planning to take its Fidelio on tour in 2020, the 250th anniversary of Beethoven's birth. Then the pandemic hit, affecting incarcerated people especially and forcing them to postpone the tour. Then George Floyd was murdered, sparking a much-needed racial reckoning. Now, with humility and a renewed sense of purpose, Heartbeat has the opportunity to bring the tour back and even expand it. The story of their Fidelio is more urgent and timely than ever:

A Black activist is wrongfully incarcerated. His wife, Leah, disguises herself to infiltrate the system and free him. But when injustice reigns, one woman's grit may not be enough to save her love. Featuring the voices of imprisoned people, this daring adaptation pits corruption against courage, hate against hope.

Heartbeat is thrilled to continue its work on this Fidelio, updating the libretto for our current moment, deepening the company's commitment to anti-racism in all that they do, collaborating more with their prison choir partners, sharing the production, and sparking important conversations. This tour is Heartbeat's largest and most ambitious venture yet. They have the opportunity to reach thousands of new audience members, including hundreds of young people, in four cities across the country.

QUANDO, ossia Project "0"

In-person screenings w/live performances in NY and Long Beach, April 2022 A co-production with Long Beach Opera The pilot production of NO EVIL Projects

Creative Produced by Derrell Acon Music Directed and Arranged by Daniel Schlosberg In-person screenings with live performances in New York and Long Beach in April 2022 (dates TBC)

Some of the most beautiful and famous music from the operatic canon becomes the landscape for this fierce social satire of sex, activism, and the performance of everyday life. Music from Verdi's operas La Traviata and Don Carlo and Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice are repurposed and refashioned into a 25-minute short film that follows a starry-eyed young couple as their night on the town unravels into a surrealist swirl of decadence, intrigue, and ultimately, vengeful justice.

The short film, a co-production with Long Beach Opera and produced by Heartbeat's newly-appointed Associate Artistic Director Derrell Acon, will be screened as is, and then followed by a second presentation that features live composer-performers actively disrupting and reconstituting the music from the score for a one-of-a-kind theatrical experience. No two performances will be the same, as the ending will change with each iteration of the live performances, and audiences will be challenged to re-examine their perceptions of art and its role in societal transformation.NO EVIL is an initiative meant to create a self-replenishing fund of seed money for new projects in the opera field by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and other People of Color) creators. Acon is in conversation with OPERA America, the Sphinx Foundation, and other industry colleagues about the full structure of NO EVIL Projects, which has an anticipated launch of 2022.Says Acon: "As Arts Equity Specialist for the OPERA America New Works Forum, I had the opportunity to facilitate all-BIPOC adjudication panels for granting, and was deeply impressed by the nuance of perspective and intentionality centered in those discussions. I am convinced that the financial barriers experienced by marginalized creators in the field require even more attention and action-and, frankly, MONEY!"

THE EXTINCTIONIST

A new one act opera

Music by Daniel Schlosberg

Libretto by

Amanda Quaid

, based on her play

Directed, Conceived, and Developed by

Louisa Proske

Music Directed by Jacob Ashworth

World Premiere Production Coming in Winter 2023

During the 2020-21 season, Heartbeat Opera commissioned its first-ever opera, The Extinctionist, a one-act work that grapples with the catastrophic effects of climate change and one woman's unorthodox choice to sterilize herself to save the planet and become the very first "Extinctionist." The dark comedy turns one woman's body into the battlefield of our political anguish, conflicting desires, and individual responsibility.

This past May, The Exctintionist was featured in The New York Times, which chronicled Heartbeat's longtime commitment to reimagining classic works and its new expansion into commissioning. A semi-staged production of the opera was presented in May 2021 at PS21 in Chatham, New York, and the world premiere is slated for Winter 2023.

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fangirling-throughlife · 4 years

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Music is in my DNA. I think there aren’t many Spaniards who don’t have music in their DNA. And if you go to Valencia, it’s almost impossible to find someone who hasn’t studied music at least for a year, who doesn’t know to play an instrument. It’s normal, considering that there are 1.686 musical groups (bands, orchestras, choirs, big bands...) in Valencia. 40.000 musicians, 64.000 music students. Our dearest memories are linked to music from the beginning: Fallas, the weeks of festivities, 9 d’octubre, Easter... I can sing you at least one piece that matches every major religious and civil festivity throughout the year.

I was raised around music. My grandparents gave money to the town’s band to build their rehearsal space and bar, my great-uncle is the oldest member of the band, my dad is a musician... My mum doesn’t know how to read music, or how to match a pitch, nor does she have any sense of rythm. But she loves music, and my childhood was filled with Beethoven, Mahler, Mozart, Eros Ramazotti, Andrea Bocelli, Pavarotti, amongst many more.

I started to study music at age 7. I was too young to start with an instrument, so I studied a first year of musical theory before they let me decide. Back then, the opera house of Valencia was just open, and there was a segment about it on TV every single day. The instrument I saw every day was the violin, so, of course, I wanted that. Because my dad was a member of a symphonic band, the violin was out of the question, but I was so stubborn that they let me pick the next best thing: the cello. I really struggled with it. I was a quick learner but my teacher didn’t let me go beyond what was recommended for my age. Then every other cellist in my music school left, and my grandmother told me the cello was the most useless instrument of all. Not having any famous role models (back then YouTube wasn’t very well known, and definitely censured in my house after they found out my best friend looked up dirty videos on it) or even role models in my everyday life, I wanted to quit. I started to play the saxophone (again, bribed by my family and a couple of friends) while I was deciding if I stopped with music altogether or just with the cello. As a last resort, my parents transferred me to a public music school in a city not too far away, where I had plenty of other cellists and other string musicians. I started orchestra lessons, then chamber music, then I got invited to play in other student orchestras during the holidays and suddenly I knew that was what I wanted to do in my life. I stopped making homework, but composed and played the piano instead. I played 2-3 hours a day, missed classes to go to concerts. I was set on being a professional musician.

After giving in to pressure from outside to have a back-up plan, I focused a bit more on high school, and, with top grades from the class in sciences, my grades dropped (a little bit) in music school. I graduated with very good marks, but I still decided to wait a year to focus on prepare auditions while I started something at university. That first year almost became the end of me. I got depressed, I had almost daily panic attacks, and after a little more than a month my mum figured out that stopping with music classes had caused such a big change on my life that I didn’t know how to go on. That year I started having serious bone and muscular problems that made me go to physiotherapy for 3 months. That was the moment when I had to give up my dream.

Since then, I’ve had panic attacks during rehearsals, I’ve played as a soloist, I’ve been first cello for 3 years in the orchestra where I spent my high school and university years, I’ve done small tours around the north of Spain and even premiered some pieces. By the beginning of lockdown I was involved in 3 different orchestral projects (two of them linked to a higher musical education institution) and my band, even though I was finishing Biochemistry.

Now I moved. Some of the best music professors in Europe are in Belgium, but I can’t find amateur orchestras or even symphonic bands to join. Like, not with a level to satisfy me after 12 years of musical education and 10 years of orchestral experience. I had my back-up cello (because MY cello stayed in Spain, waiting for me to come home and go to 1 or 2 rehearsals), which needed a lot of tending (basically, horrible strings). The first two weeks I didn’t play at all, because I cried every time I looked at it and remembered that my dearest instrument needs to go to the atelier before I can play on it again. Then I progressively started to play more and more, and now I was playing over 2 hours a day, studying technique and concerto’s by myself. Until I decided to change those horrible strings, and today, in the span of 15 minutes, two of my medium-good strings snapped (we suspect there’s a wood splinter somewhere). It sounds stupid, even more considering that I’m starting a Master’s degree in 15 days, but I kinda lost my purpose. The moment when I’d finished the dishes and the news was over, and I had the time to start and play was hard, and I always thought I didn’t have to do it. But the moment I started, I didn’t want to stop, and I always had to because my fingers were about to start bleeding, or because it was dinner time or something.

Now that’s gone (at least, until I find a decent atelier around here and they fix it). I can’t have that moment when I sit barefoot and with my eyes closed, playing El Cant dels Ocells and connecting with something bigger than myself, occasionally with some tears. Or the moment of triumph when that last scale was right or I got to 100% of an Allegro tempo.

I’ve spent half an hour listening to pasodobles, which are pieces usually written for wind bands to play on the street, and actually crying a bit. This is my past, my present, and I want to keep it in my future so badly. I never thought I’d miss something about my life back at home, not after the hellish last years I’ve had. But now I realise I miss having music everywhere, surrounding me. I miss being part of that. Of playing Shostakovich and feeling like we’re soldiers in the Russian Revolution, playing Tchaikovsky and trying to figure out what he wanted to explain, playing Elgar and actually mourning, playing Beethoven and feeling every feeling in the world, all at once.

There’s a saying about children and teenagers in my band. “He/She has musical notes in their veins”. I’ve heard it being said about so many people in my 22 years of life, including my brother and myself. I know this is stupid from a biological point of view, but I truly believe that music is a lifestyle, and, in my case, a lifesaver.

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husheduphistory · 5 years

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Nannerl: The Mozart Musician Forced to Sit in Shadows

Leopold Mozart wrote glowingly of his gifted child. The letter was peppered with words like "genius", "prodigy”, and he openly declared them "one of the most skillful players in Europe." He wasn’t gloating; his child was armed with a musical ability that stunned prestigious audiences all over Europe. Sadly, it is accurate to say that this musician’s gift was snuffed out of history and has never been heard by modern ears. That is because in this letter Leopold was not talking about little Wolfgang, he was writing about his eldest child, his daughter Maria Anna.

Leopold Mozart

Born in Salzburg, Austria on July 30th 1751, Maria Anna Mozart had music in her blood thanks to her father who was a composer, conductor, and an accomplished violin player. By the time she was seven years old Leopold had already taught his daughter how to play the harpsicord, a task he may have relished not only due to his profession, but because by the time little Maria Ann turned seven Leopold and his wife Anna Maria had already lost seven children. Only one other child survived along with Maria Anna, her younger brother, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Maria Anna, affectionately nicknamed Nannerl, proved early on that she was more than talented, she was a bona fide musical virtuoso. Able to absorb music as easily as taking a breath, Nannerl quickly learned complex musical pieces and began writing music of her own with her progress recorded in a notebook. At the onset of her learning, Wolfgang was only three years old and in these early years he was heavily exposed to every step of his sister’s education. The two Mozart children were very close, the pair regularly played in an imaginary “kingdom” where they occupied seats of fanciful royalty and they even created their own language. Wolfgang adored his older sister and as he watched her musical talent bloom some scholars believe it was his wish to be like her that sparked his interest in learning music for himself.

Portrait of Maria Anna “Nannerl” Mozart

When the young Wolfgang began attempting music like his sister the Mozart family was surprised to discover that they had not one prodigal child, but two. Taking selections out of Nannerl’s notebook, Leopold tested Wolfgang’s abilities and wrote in her pages “This minuet and trio were learned by Wolfgang in half an hour, at half-past nine at night on the 26th of January 1761, one day before his fifth birthday.” Because of his obvious talents Leopold started Wolfgang’s musical education early, beginning at only five years old.

On their own each of the Mozart children could display gifts that astonished even the most accomplished musicians, but together they were capable of wowing the world. Within three years the children, aged approximately eight and eleven, found themselves performing in Munich in front of the court of Prince-elector Maximilian III of Bavaria. Said one concert-goer “The poor little fellow plays marvelously, he is a child of spirit, lively, charming. His sister’s playing is masterly, and he [the prince] applauded her.” In 1763 Leopold wrote glowingly to a friend back home is Salzburg:

“We played a concert on the 18th which was great, everyone was amazed. Thank God, we are healthy and, wherever we go, much admired. As for little Wolfgang, he’s astonishingly happy, but also naughty. Little Nannerl is no longer in his shadow, and she plays with such skill that the world talks of her and marvels at her.”

In the summer of 1763 the Mozart family set out on their most ambitious endeavor, an eighty-eight city tour across western Europe, called the Grand Tour. The name of the tour was more than appropriate. Over the course of several years Nannerl and Wolfgang would play in front of everyone from common townspeople to royalty in performances that could exceed three hours. They were promoted as the “Wunderkinder”, with Nannerl being billed first above Wolfgang. As stated by one review written in 1763:

“Imagine an eleven-year-old girl, performing the most difficult sonatas and concertos of the greatest composers, on the harpsichord or fortepiano, with precision, with incredible lightness, with impeccable taste. It was a source of wonder to many.”

Portrait of the young Nannerl and Wolfgang Mozart

Their popularity steadily grew and the Mozart family quickly found themselves in a world of servants, gifts, and all manner of finery. The travel and fame filled their lives with happiness, but it also took an unavoidable physical toll.

Moving from city to city exposed the Mozarts to praise and prominence, but it also made them susceptible hosts for disease. While touring outside London Leopold fell ill and the Mozart children were told the temporary home had to be kept quiet. Unable to play their instruments the children decided to do the next best thing. Nannerl took up some parchment and the pair collaboratively wrote down Wolfgang’s first symphony with Nannerl remembering later how her brother told her “Remind me to give something good to the horns!” The illnesses eventually made their way to the children as well. In September 1765 what appeared to be a minor bug began to affect both Nannerl and Wolfgang but as time progressed the suspected cold grew worse and it was determined to actually be a severe case of typhoid. The disease wracked the children and it took them nearly four months to recover. But, despite the need for rest after recovery Leopold decided the tour needed to resume. The Mozarts did not return home to Salzburg until November 1766.

Modern day plaque in the Czech Republic marking a building where the Mozart family stayed while on tour in 1767.

Despite their working and sharing the stage together, there is little evidence that the Mozart siblings had any feelings of jealousy toward each other. In fact, it appears that it was the exact opposite between the two. They both reveled in the music and their abilities, collaborating and often encouraging each other. But, as time moved on their father began to see Nannerl as simply a part of a bigger picture and he began to focus his attention on Wolfgang. In approximately 1768-1769 Leopold decided it was time to once again bring the Mozart name on the road, but this time Nannerl was to remain in Salzburg. She would never tour again.

The reason for the eldest prodigy being left home while the younger Wolfgang went out into the world was as simple as it was sad. At the age of eighteen Nannerl was no longer seen as a wonder child prodigy, she was seen as a young woman who should be staying home and getting married. This decision from Leopold was never questioned. To the two Mozart children the word of their father was set in stone with Wolfgang writing in a later letter “Next to God comes Papa.” The loyalty Nannerl had for her father was absolute and when he and Wolfgang left on tour she waved goodbye while standing in place. The change was respected, but it was not unfelt by Wolfgang who wrote while touring Italy, “I only wish that my sister were in Rome, for this town would certainly please her.”

Many letters were exchanged between Nannerl and Wolfgang, and through some of this correspondence it becomes clear that Nannerl did not abandon her love of music. Leopold and Wolfgang sent her sheet music to study so the two siblings could play when he returned home but Nannerl took it a step further and continued to compose her own music which she sent to her brother out on tour. The support between the two is evident in a July 7th 1770 letter from Wolfgang to Nannerl where he praises the piece she sent to him:

“I am amazed! I had no idea you were capable of composing in such a gracious way. In a word, your Lied is beautiful. I beg you, try to do these things more often.”

The piece of music has never been found.

Painting of the two Mozart children playing together with their father looking on holding a violin.

As the Mozart children grew older their connections to their father took very opposite routes. Schisms between Wolfgang and Leopold began to grow as the roles of manager and father continued to blur. Wolfgang was Leopold’s livelihood and he attempted to direct him in all matters, but the son grew to resent him and he chose to go against his father’s wishes. When Wolfgang was twenty-one Leopold found him a position in Salzburg at the court of the prince-archbishop but Wolfgang refused it stating “The archbishop could not pay me enough for the slavery in Salzburg.” In approximately 1781 Wolfgang completely defied his father and left Salzburg for good in the pursuit of greater fame and fortune. Nannerl stayed behind, since their mother’s death in 1778 she had become Leopold’s sole caretaker and defying their father by leaving was not an option in her mind. Nannerl was completely devoted to Leopold and when Wolfgang left, she took her father’s side in the matter. The stepping out of Wolfgang marked a deep wound in the relationship between the siblings, one that would never fully heal. In 1783 Nannerl married Johann Baptist Franz von Berchtold zu Sonnenburg in a village twenty miles outside of Salzburg. She breifly returned to Salzburg in 1785 to have her son, the baby was named Leopold.

In a questionable move, Nannerl and her husband moved back to their home village shortly after the infant Leopold was born, but the baby was left behind with his grandfather. The elder Leopold may have been granted this custody in the attempt to cultivate another musical prodigy, but the plan never had a chance to develop. Leopold Mozart died in 1787 and the baby was returned to Nannerl and Johann.

Nannerl had two more children in 1789 and 1790 but by the time they were born her connection with her brother Wolfgang had ceased to exist. He had gotten married August of 1782 and visited his sister with his new wife in 1783, but after that the two never visited each other, their families never interacted, and it seems that their correspondence ceased completely by 1788. In 1791 Nannerl’s youngest child died in infancy and in 1801 her husband died leaving her with their two surviving children and four stepchildren from Johann’s previous marriage. She moved back to Salzburg with her family and found work as a music teacher.

Nannerl Mozart

The worlds of Nannerl and Wolfgang Mozart did not cross again until she reached old age. Wolfgang had died on December 5th 1791 but his widow, Constanze, got remarried to Georg Nikolaus von Nissen, and in 1820 they moved to Salzburg where she finally met again with her estranged sister-in-law. The meeting of the two women in the Mozart home city was not overly affectionate, but it was cordial enough that Nannerl agreed to help Constanze with the writing of a biography of Wolfgang, allowing her brother’s widow access to papers and letters written between the family members up until 1781.

In the last years of her life Nannerl’s health took a sharp decline with her losing her vision in 1825 and spiraling further into ill health for the next few years.

Maria Anna Mozart, musical prodigy, composer, world-renowned performer, and lead billing of the “wunderkind” duo of the Mozart children, died on October 29th 1829 at the age of seventy-eight.

Today the name Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is synonymous with musical mastery but the sister that supported and may have inspired him is hidden deeper within the pages of his life. She lives on in portraits, letters, reviews, and concert billings, and yet her music that was praised all over the world has never been found. Although it is a possibility, we may never know for sure if any of her later compositions made it to the world stage through the performances of her once adoring brother.

Maria Anna Mozart was buried in St Peter's Cemetery, located in her home city of Salzburg.

Communal vault where Maria Anna Mozart is buried.

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Mary Lou Williams

Mary Lou Williams (born Mary Elfrieda Scruggs; May 8, 1910 – May 28, 1981) was an American jazz pianist, arranger, and composer. She wrote hundreds of compositions and arrangements and recorded more than one hundred records (in 78, 45, and LP versions). Williams wrote and arranged for Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman, and she was friend, mentor, and teacher to Thelonious Monk, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Tadd Dameron, Bud Powell, and Dizzy Gillespie.

Early years

The second of eleven children, Williams was born in Atlanta, Georgia, and grew up in the East Liberty neighborhood of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A young musical prodigy, at the age of three, she taught herself to play the piano. Mary Lou Williams played piano out of necessity at a very young age; her white neighbors were throwing bricks into her house until Williams began playing the piano in their homes. At the age of six, she supported her ten half-brothers and sisters by playing at parties. She began performing publicly at the age of seven when she became known admiringly in Pittsburgh as "The Little Piano Girl." She became a professional musician at the age of 15, citing Lovie Austin as her greatest influence. She married jazz saxophonist John Williams in November 1926.

Career

In 1922, at the age of 12, she went on the Orpheum Circuit. During the following year she played with Duke Ellington and his early small band, the Washingtonians. One morning at three o'clock, she was playing with McKinney's Cotton Pickers at Harlem's Rhythm Club. Louis Armstrong entered the room and paused to listen to her. Williams shyly told what happened: "Louis picked me up and kissed me."

In 1927, Williams married saxophonist John Overton Williams. She met him at a performance in Cleveland where he was leading his group, the Syncopators, and moved with him to Memphis, Tennessee. He assembled a band in Memphis, which included Williams on piano. In 1929, 19-year-old Williams assumed leadership of the Memphis band when her husband accepted an invitation to join Andy Kirk's band in Oklahoma City. Williams joined her husband in Oklahoma City but did not play with the band. The group, Andy Kirk's Twelve Clouds of Joy, moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where Williams, when she wasn't working as a musician, was employed transporting bodies for an undertaker. When the Clouds of Joy accepted a longstanding engagement in Kansas City, Missouri, Williams joined her husband and began sitting in with the band, as well as serving as its arranger and composer. She provided Kirk with such songs as "Walkin' and Swingin'", "Twinklin'", "Cloudy'", and "Little Joe from Chicago".

Williams was the arranger and pianist for recordings in Kansas City (1929) Chicago (1930), and New York City (1930). During a trip to Chicago, she recorded "Drag 'Em" and "Night Life" as piano solos. She used the name "Mary Lou" at the suggestion of Jack Kapp at Brunswick Records. The records sold briskly, raising Williams to national prominence. Soon after the recording session she became Kirk's permanent second pianist, playing solo gigs and working as a freelance arranger for Earl Hines, Benny Goodman, and Tommy Dorsey. In 1937, she produced In the Groove (Brunswick), a collaboration with Dick Wilson, and Benny Goodman asked her to write a blues song for his band. The result was "Roll 'Em", a boogie-woogie piece based on the blues, which followed her successful "Camel Hop", named for Goodman's radio show sponsor, Camel cigarettes. Goodman tried to put Williams under contract to write for him exclusively, but she refused, preferring to freelance instead.

In 1942, Williams, who had divorced her husband, left the Twelve Clouds of Joy, returning again to Pittsburgh. She was joined there by bandmate Harold "Shorty" Baker, with whom she formed a six-piece ensemble that included Art Blakey on drums. After an engagement in Cleveland, Baker left to join Duke Ellington's orchestra. Williams joined the band in New York City, then traveled to Baltimore, where she and Baker were married. She traveled with Ellington and arranged several tunes for him, including "Trumpet No End" (1946), her version of "Blue Skies" by Irving Berlin. She also sold Ellington on performing "Walkin' and Swingin'". Within a year she had left Baker and the group and returned to New York.

Williams accepted a job at the Café Society Downtown, started a weekly radio show called Mary Lou Williams's Piano Workshop on WNEW and began mentoring and collaborating with younger bebop musicians such as Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk. In 1945, she composed the bebop hit "In the Land of Oo-Bla-Dee" for Gillespie. "During this period Monk and the kids would come to my apartment every morning around four or pick me up at the Café after I'd finished my last show, and we'd play and swap ideas until noon or later", Williams recalled in Melody Maker.

In 1945, she composed the classically-influenced Zodiac Suite, in which each of the twelve parts corresponded to a sign of the zodiac, and were accordingly dedicated to several of her musical colleagues, including Billie Holiday, and Art Tatum. She recorded the suite with Jack Parker and Al Lucas and performed it December 31, 1945 at Town Hall in New York City with an orchestra and tenor saxophonist Ben Webster.

In 1952, Williams accepted an offer to perform in England and ended up staying in Europe for two years. By this time, music had taken over her life, and not in a good way; Williams was mentally and physically drained. When she returned to the United States she took a hiatus from performing, converting in 1956 to Catholicism. This three-year hiatus began when she suddenly backed away from the piano during a performance in Paris in 1954. Her energies were devoted mainly to the Bel Canto Foundation, an effort she initiated to help addicted musicians return to performing. In addition to spending several hours in mass, Williams used her savings as well as help from friends to turn her apartment in Hamilton Heights into a halfway house for the poor as well as musicians who were grappling with addiction; she also made money over a longer period of time for the halfway house by way of a thrift store in Harlem. Her hiatus may have been triggered by the death of her long-time friend and student Charlie Parker in 1955 who also struggled with addiction for the majority of his life. Father John Crowley and Father Anthony aided in persuading Williams to go back to playing music. They told her that she could continue to serve God and the Catholic Church by utilizing her exceptional gift of creating music. Moreover, Dizzy Gillespie convinced her to return to playing, which she did at the 1957 Newport Jazz Festival with Dizzy's band. One can notice a significant difference in her works after her hiatus through her willingness to take more risks with her music as well as her renewed outlook as a proponent of jazz and its legacy.

Father Peter O'Brien, a Catholic priest, became her close friend and manager in the 1960s. They found new venues for jazz performance at a time when no more than two clubs in Manhattan offered jazz full-time. In addition to club work, she played colleges, formed her own record label and publishing companies, founded the Pittsburgh Jazz Festival, and made television appearances. Throughout the 1960s, her composing concentrated on sacred music, hymns, and masses. One of the masses, Music for Peace, was choreographed by the Alvin Ailey and performed by the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater as Mary Lou's Mass in 1971. About the work, Ailey commented, "If there can be a Bernstein Mass, a Mozart Mass, a Bach Mass, why can't there be Mary Lou's Mass?" Williams performed the revision of Mary Lou's Mass, her most acclaimed work, on The Dick Cavett Show in 1971.

Following her hiatus, her first piece was a mass that she wrote and performed was named Black Christ of the Andes (1963), a hymn in honor of the Peruvian saint St. Martin de Porres; two short works, Anima Christi and Praise the Lord. Williams put much effort into working with youth choirs to perform her works, including "Mary Lou's Mass" at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City in April 1975 before a gathering of over three thousand. It marked the first time a jazz musician had played at the church. She set up a charitable organization and opened thrift stores in Harlem, directing the proceeds, along with ten percent of her own earnings, to musicians in need. As a 1964 Time article explained, "Mary Lou thinks of herself as a 'soul' player — a way of saying that she never strays far from melody and the blues, but deals sparingly in gospel harmony and rhythm. 'I am praying through my fingers when I play,' she says.'I get that good "soul sound", and I try to touch people's spirits.'" She performed at the Monterey Jazz Festival in 1965, with a jazz festival group.

Throughout the 1970s, her career flourished, including numerous albums, including as solo pianist and commentator on the recorded The History of Jazz. She returned to the Monterey Jazz Festival in 1971. She could also be seen playing nightly in Greenwich Village at The Cookery, a new club run by her old boss from her Café Society days, Barney Josephson. That engagement too, was recorded.

She had a two-piano performance with avant-garde pianist Cecil Taylor at Carnegie Hall on April 17, 1977. Despite onstage tensions between Williams and Taylor, their performance was released on an live album titled Embraced.

Williams instructed school children on jazz. She then accepted an appointment at Duke University as artist-in-residence (from 1977 to 1981), teaching the History of Jazz with Father O'Brien and directing the Duke Jazz Ensemble. With a light teaching schedule, she also did many concert and festival appearances, conducted clinics with youth, and in 1978 performed at the White House for President Jimmy Carter and his guests. She participated in Benny Goodman's 40th-anniversary Carnegie Hall concert in 1978.

Later years

Her final recording, Solo Recital (Montreux Jazz Festival, 1978), three years before her death, had a medley encompassing spirituals, ragtime, blues and swing. Other highlights include Williams's reworkings of "Tea for Two", "Honeysuckle Rose", and her two compositions "Little Joe from Chicago", and "What's Your Story Morning Glory". Other tracks include "Medley: The Lord Is Heavy", "Old Fashion Blues", "Over the Rainbow", "Offertory Meditation", "Concerto Alone at Montreux", and "The Man I Love".

In 1981, Mary Lou Williams died of bladder cancer in Durham, North Carolina at the age of 71. Dizzy Gillespie, Benny Goodman, and Andy Kirk attended her funeral at the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola. She was buried in the Calvary Catholic Cemetery in Pittsburgh. Looking back at the end of her life, Mary Lou Williams said, "I did it, didn't I? Through muck and mud." She was known as "the first lady of the jazz keyboard". Williams was one of the first women to be successful in jazz.

Awards and honors

Guggenheim Fellowships, 1972 and 1977.

Nominee 1971 Grammy Awards, Best Jazz Performance – Group, for the album Giants, Dizzy Gillespie, Bobby Hackett, Mary Lou Williams

Honorary degree from Fordham University in New York in 1973

In 1980 Williams founded the Mary Lou Williams Foundation

Honorary degree from Rockhurst College in Kansas City in 1980.

Received the 1981 Duke University's Trinity Award for service to the university, an award voted on by Duke University students.

Legacy

In 1983, Duke University established the Mary Lou Williams Center for Black Culture

Since 1996, The Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. has an annual Mary Lou Williams Women in Jazz Festival.

Since 2000, her archives are preserved at Rutgers University's Institute of Jazz Studies in Newark.

A Pennsylvania State Historic Marker is placed at 328 Lincoln Avenue, Lincoln Elementary School, Pittsburgh, PA, noting her accomplishments and the location of the school she attended.

In 2000, trumpeter Dave Douglas released the album Soul on Soul as a tribute to her, featuring original arrangements of her music and new pieces inspired by her work.

The 2000 album Impressions of Mary Lou by pianist John Hicks featured eight of her compositions.

The Dutch Jazz Orchestra researched and played rediscovered works of Williams on their 2005 album Lady Who Swings the Band.

In 2006, Geri Allen's Mary Lou Williams Collective released their album Zodiac Suite: Revisited.

A YA historical novel based on Mary Lou Williams and her early life, entitled Jazz Girl, by Sarah Bruce Kelly, was published in 2010.

A children's book based on Mary Lou Williams, entitled The Little Piano Girl, by Ann Ingalls and Maryann MacDonald with illustrations by Giselle Potter, was published in 2010.

A poetry book by Yona Harvey entitled Hemming the Water was published in 2013, inspired by Williams and featuring the poem "Communion with Mary Lou Williams".

In 2013, the American Musicological Society published Mary Lou Williams' Selected Works for Big Band, a compilation of 11 of her big band scores.

In 2015, an award-winning documentary film entitled, Mary Lou Williams: The Lady Who Swings the Band, produced and directed by Carol Bash, premiered on American Public Television and was screened at various domestic and international film festivals.

In 2018 What'sHerName women's history podcast aired the episode "THE MUSICIAN Mary Lou Williams," with guest expert 'Mary Lou Williams: The Lady Who Swings the Band,' producer and director Carol Bash.

Mary Lou Williams Lane, a street near 10th and Paseo in Kansas City, Missouri, was named after the renowned jazz artist.

She is one of three women who appear in the famous photograph of jazz greats, A Great Day in Harlem.

#05/08 #05/28

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thiswomenbiographies · 5 years

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JONI MITCHELL

“I see music as fluid architecture”

SHE ALWAYS SAYS THAT PAINTING AND MUSIC ARE TWO DIFFERENT LANGUAGES. WE KNOW HER AS ONE OF THE MOST INFLUENTIAL MUSICIANS IN HISTORY. SHE SAIS SHE’S JUST A PAINTER APPLYING PAINTING PRINCIPLES TO MUSIC.

She was born in a small town in Canada. Since a very young age she loved art and spent most of the time drawing. At the age of 7 she begged her parents to study the piano. She was soon introduced to classical composers like Schubert and Mozart.

Just at the age of 9 she contracted polio, a disease often fatal in XX century. She was hospitalised for weeks, and focused mostly on her creative talent. That was the first time she considered singing or dancing career as her future job. Shortly after leaving the hospital, just at the age of 9, she began to smoke.

In grade 7 Joni met Mr. Kratzman, who taught English in her school. He was the first person to show her the magic of words. He asked Joni to write about things she knows, and once told her: "If you can paint with a brush, you can paint with words." That’s when she bought her first musical instrument: a baritone ukulele. She couldn’t afford a guitar.

After high school, Joni enrolled in the Alberta College of Art. She didn’t enjoyed most of the classes and left her after one year with an intention to become a folk singer.

She moved to Toronto and started working in a few department stores, unable to earn enough money in music business. Soon she found out that she was pregnant by her college ex-boyfriend. In February 1965 she gave birth to a baby girl. She spent cold winter alone with her newborn, unable to find any work.

A few weeks after the birth, Joni met and married folk-singer Chuck Mitchell. He promised to help take responsibility for the child but something changed, and a few weeks later Joni had to give up her daughter for adoption.

The marriage dissolved in a year and a half, and in early 1967 Joni Mitchell moved to New York City to pursue her musical dreams as a solo artist.

In March 1968 Reprise Records released her debut self-titled album. Other highly successful albums followed. In 1969 she won her first Grammy Award for Clouds. Her third album, Ladies of the Canyon, was a mainstream success, becoming her first gold album. It was during this time she was already starting to experiment with pop and rock genres.

Over the past four decades, Mitchell has garnered several Grammys in various categories, including traditional pop, pop music and lifetime achievement. Her other notable successful recordings include Blue (1971), the highly experimental Hejira (1976) and Turbulent Indigo (1994).

Throughout her life Mitchell dealt with many health issues. She sought treatment for Morgellons disease, and claimed that her voice has faltered from complications due to polio and a compressed larynx.

In 2015, Mitchell had a brain aneurysm, which required her to undergo physical therapy, and take part in daily rehabilitation. She made a full recovery.

interview with Joni Mitchell: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUu1MvnAecc

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adaughterofslytherin · 5 years

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Musical Styles: My thoughts on the first season of Forest of Piano

A few days ago, I finally finished the first season of Forest of piano, an anime that is just one of many original series on Netflix. The thing that really caught my attention are the various piano styles on that each of the characters produce. Our story begins with Shuhei, the son of a well known piano player who has just moved to a new town and has started a new school. There he meets Kai, a boy born in the red light distcrict and lives with his loving prostitute of a mother Rei (not trying to insult her just so you know and that I really do like her). So one day the two of them are exploring the forest and sees an abandon piano. Shuhei can’t play it, but Kai can. Which shocks him when he learns that he doesn’t have a teacher. Then we have Ajino, the music teacher at the boys school who was once a well known piano player but lost his ability after being in an accident. That’s when things get really interesting when he sees Kai playing the piano in the forest that use to his. Resulting in a deal if Kai can master a certain piece by Chopin. Thus planting the seeds for the rest of the anime. That aside, the styles of music plays a huge role in the series. While Shuhei being a perfectionist to the point where he has plays it where the master composed it, the music comes naturally to Kai to where people experience his playing through all five senses. This had me thinking on composers like Mozart, Beethoven, and Chopin despite being labeled as Masters after their deaths, while in life they pretty much broke the musical rules for the sake of a style that suits them. In a way, they were willing to take risks in order for their music to be heard. Over all, Forest of Piano is a wonderful anime that gives you mild feels, but a sense of happiness at the end of the very last episode. Overall, I’m looking forward to seeing the second half of Kai’s journey to become a master of his own style.

#forest of piano #anime #netflix

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codyfernaesthetic · 5 years

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Patreon preview

Hi everyone! You’ve probably seen my patreon page linked on here before, and I wanted to give you guys a taste of my work outside of fanfic. This is part one of my short story entitled “Don’t Feed the Strays”. I’ll be posting the next part on my patreon today. Hopefully this will convince you to pledge a $1 and see where the story goes?☺️ You can find and pledge at Lovely Little Writings on Patreon.

(P.S. I think you Millory stans in particular will like this story)

October, 2018

The coffee shop quietly buzzed around Rachel as she sat at the small corner table clicking away at a ten page research paper she had neglected to start on for her English class until three days before the deadline. She had Beethoven and Mozart pumping through her earbuds for the sole reason that she heard they helped you concentrate better. She found it relentlessly boring but did find that being unable to find pleasure in the music forced her to focus on her task. Some employees of the shop had taken to teasing her when she walked in that she should grab an apron and work overtime, one of the main ones being a creepy 16 year old barely out of braces who apparently thought she was just as interested in him as he was her; so perhaps there were two reasons why she had earbuds blasting loud dead guy music. Her furious typing was interrupted by a notification at the bottom bar of her laptop screen. She hovered and clicked over red “1” on her mailbox to bring up a new tab to add to the other 7 she had open. It was one of those automated emails from a website. Someone had replied to her roommate ad.

Kelly her previous roommate had moved out a month before she got married. She’d invited her to the wedding but Rachel didn’t go. Kelly was nice and a good roommate for the most part, but not her friend. There’d only been a night or two when she and her girlfriend had woken her up with drunken sex, it wouldn’t have bothered her if one of those nights didn’t end with a leftovers left on the kitchen counter and an unidentifiable liquid spilled on the floor; much to her clean-freak dismay. She skimmed through the reply and saved it for a later time.

She jumped and gasped as something tapped her shoulder. She plucked the earbuds from her ears and looked in the direction of the disturbance. She met the artificially white smile of a stocky young woman around her own age wearing a bright blue tracksuit; her blonde hair was tightly pulled into a ponytail, perfectly plucked eyebrows framing smiling hazel eyes.

“Hey, Rachel!”

Her voice wasn’t unpleasant, but it was an annoying spotlight of sunshine in a perfectly quiet rainy sky. Rachel smiled half-heartedly, rubbing the earbud cord between her fingers, “Hi, Macy. How are you?”

Macy fluidly pulled out the other chair and sat across from her, “I’m good, how are you?”

“Fine,” she lied.

“Homework?” She playfully indicated toward the laptop.

“Yep...I have to finish an English paper. It’s due Monday and I didn’t start on it til yesterday.”

Macy nodded knowingly, “I get it. I have a Chemistry project due next week and I haven’t even taken one look at it—“

Macy continued for another two or three sentences; Rachel kept eye contact while wondering why we spill details about our mundane failures, but then felt entirely pretentious and pushed the thought away.

“But anyway,” Macy finally said, “I’m sorry to bother you-“

“Oh, you didn’t,” she lied again.

“But I really wanted to ask what you were doing for Halloween?”

Rachel blinked slowly with a blank expression, her mind whirring to life to comprehend her question, “Halloween?”

“Yeah!” She chipperly exclaimed, “There’s a carnival coming into town that’s gonna set up in Washika Park for that weekend and me and a couple others were gonna go! You wanna come with us?”

She scratched the side of her nose and shifted the laptop, stuttering, “I, well, I...I mean I don’t know.”

“Ok, well if you want to just let me know! I’ve got one spot open in my car, we’d be leaving at seven, we’d love to have you!”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll let you get back to your paper. Have a good day!”

“You too.”

Macy left the table with a cheery little wave and went off to order from the counter. Macy was a very sweet girl who had decided that Rachel was her project lonely shy-girl that she assumed had a either a bad home life or depression and needed someone to save her. Rachel could already envision the graduation speech where Macy would name drop her as a testament to her heavenly kindness. And the worst part about it was that her assumptions weren’t necessarily wrong.

She returned to her paper, wondering how she could come up with an excuse to not go to the carnival.

Unfortunately, no valid excuse came up. She didn’t have the heart to tell Macy no; and besides, she told herself, it’s no fun to stay at home alone. She kept telling herself to get out with people more, to try and make friends. This was her attempt.

She didn’t have much in the way of costume ideas, especially not in her own closet; which was composed of neutral sweaters, t shirts, and leggings. She decided to keep it simple and bought a modest black dress and a witch’s hat splashed with purple designs. She watched a few tutorials online to figure out how to do a smokey eye and concluded that makeup was far too messy for her to use in any consistent capacity. She felt like a raccoon with all the black powder smudged around her eyes, but now she had committed to the look. She sent Macy a message that she was walking out the door. At least she had convinced her to let her drive herself there. There was no way she’d be out in public without an escape plan.

The group that Macy invited consisted of a couple of her friends, tall and buff athletes who gave off an air of superiority along with their boyfriends of the same type; all of them dressed in matching Superman/Supergirl and Batman/Batgirl outfits, Macy’s boyfriend Lance, a lanky English major dressed as Edgar Allan Poe, and a friend of his who Rachel had never met. She was told he was Lance’s next door neighbor and childhood friend Carson, who was a Doctor, apparently; which one Rachel couldn’t say. Macy herself was a raven, complete with homemade wings and beak. Which Rachel found adorable. The night went by at an agonizingly slow pace. She tried to find interest their conversation, but found herself drifting off more often than she wanted to. Playing games was pretty fun, she didn’t win anything, but she enjoyed not being forced to talk. She hated heights, so she told them she would stay on the ground while they went up on the Ferris Wheel. She was grateful for the chance to be alone. Macy and her friends were fine, they weren’t rude or mean, she just didn’t connect with them. She wanted to go find someplace quiet.

She spotted a beacon in the crowd. An instant photo booth. She noticed the other patrons passing it without a glance and watched it for a moment to see that no one entered or exited from the red curtain. It would maybe provide a moment to gather her thoughts alone. She fast-walked as naturally as possible to her salvation and pulled the curtain back with a quick step forward to step inside.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

She froze at the wide-eyed stare of the young man sitting in the booth. He was dressed in all black with a pair of fuzzy cat ears on his head. He scratched his arm with a light chuckle, “You trying to hide too?”

She blinked wordlessly for a moment before returning his awkward mirth, “Yeah, is this the escape pod?”

He smiled, “Unfortunately it’s not mobile,” he paused then scooted over with an awkward glance, “But there’s room for two.”

Rachel would have normally refused and found somewhere else, but nothing about his body language suggested that he was hitting on her; in fact he looked just as people shy as she was, almost curling up into himself. She sat down silently and kept to the other edge of the booth, more so for his comfort than hers.

After a beat of quiet and listening to the ruckus outside their sanctuary, he asked knowingly, “Who’re you escaping?”

She looked at him and bit her lower lip with a suppressed smile, “Acquaintances. You?”

He sighed heavily, looking at the bottom of the booth, “Everything.”

Her heart clenched slightly at his tone of voice.

“You not having fun with these acquaintances?” He continued.

“Not really.”

He finally looked at her, “Not your usual crowd?”

“I don’t do crowds usually.”

“Me neither,” he smiled knowingly.

A beat of silence passed. They returned to their respective staring at the ground or the wall of the enclosed box. The silence was sprinkled with nervous throat clearing or sniffling.

“Are you here with anyone?”

“Nope.”

She opened her mouth then bit down on her lip, as if to stop herself, but let out a breathy chuckle,

“So, I guess that makes you a stray?”

His brows furrowed and he scrunched up his nose as he glanced her way. She awkwardly indicated to his cat ears, earning her a small, but genuine laugh as his confusion melted away.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good word for me.”

She shrugged, words tumbling out of her mouth faster than her mind could keep up with, “Well, maybe it’s fate then. Witches are supposed to...like, come in contact with spirit guides that take the form of animals. The most popular is cats. They’re called familiars. I read an article once.”

He paused, and she mentally scolded herself. But he smiled and looked her in the eyes, “So, I’m not a stray, I just hadn’t met you yet.”

This was her first chance to get a good look at him. Though his shoulders were slumped, they appeared toned through the black shirt, his smile was charming, through his slightly parted lips she could see a single sharp canine close to scraping his lower lip, his button nose slightly red from the cold, a shaggy mess of dark brunette hair swished over blue eyes that held a sort of pained kindness.

“I guess so.”

She kept staring at him. She couldn’t help it, though she knew how creepy it must’ve been. She was usually loathe to maintain long eye contact, it made her far too uncomfortable. However, she found herself captivated, never wanting to look away from those eyes. He wasn’t a chiseled jock like Macy’s friend’s two boyfriends, but there was an odd beauty to him; his jawline was sharp, but his cheeks were round, his lips were full and soft, but his hands looked slightly calloused and strong, he was blooming with feminine grace, and bursting with male ferocity. Or perhaps Rachel was sleep deprived; which was not unlikely.

The curtain of the booth slid back, and they stared at a guy dressed as a video game character that Rachel only recognized from a few conversations she’d had at school. The guy apologized and quickly closed it again.

She stood, straightening her dress, “We probably shouldn’t be staying in here.”

“Do you wanna take a picture?” He asked suddenly. He met her surprised gaze, “I mean, just so you’ll have something from your not so fun night? Then you can tell your great grandchildren about the weird cat guy you met on Halloween.”

She answered, barely thinking of what she said, “Sure.”

She sat down closer to him and leaned on him as the pictures were taken. Two of them were normal, and he suggested two silly ones, which she obliged. He radiated heat. Their clothes shoulders were the only thing really touching, but their fingers were mere centimeters apart; a fact that Rachel desperately wanted to find uncomfortable, but only felt an excited thumping in her chest.

They exited the booth, allowing the couple outside to finally enter. They took a short, silent journey a few feet away. He lifted the strip of photos,

“You wanna split them?”

She nodded as he looked the photos over, a little smirk creeping onto his features, “Ok, just from knowing myself, I think I’m sillier of the two of us. I’ll keep these.”

She chuckled softly as he tore the photo strip and handed her, her half.

“You gonna reunite with your acquaintances or find another hiding spot?”

She gave an awkward laugh, “I think I’ll text their leader and tell them I’m not feeling well.”

He nodded, “Classic.”

She pocketed the photos, “What about you? Are you gonna face everything or hide from it some more?”

He flourished his right hand over his chest, “I am a hide and seek champion, it’ll never find me.”

The tug at her heart returned and kept her feet firmly planted. She pursed her lips and looked away from him at nothing in particular.

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous or anything,” he offered quietly, “but you seem like you could use a place to hide for a while.”

She turned her head, a bit wide-eyed.

“And I am your spirit guide after all.”

A shy smile pushed its way onto her lips. They looked at each other for a quiet moment, ignoring the noise around them. She took a breath, paused, and asked, “Where were you thinking?”

She saw his chest heave out as if he just released his breath. He rubbed the back of his head, “Are you new in town at all?”

She’d only been at the university for 6 months, and hadn’t taken the time to explore.

“A little.”

His smile lit up, “You ever been to the beach a little north from here? It’s honestly the most peaceful place at night.”

She shook her head, “I’ve never been.”

He drew into himself slightly, his voice quiet, yet inviting, “You’re welcome to join me.”

She spoke again, before her mind could catch up, a pattern seeming to emerge with this stranger, “Ok.”

#patreonwriter #patreon #my writing #millory #short story

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lowkey-writes · 6 years

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You Got Me (Loki x reader) 3 - finale

Pairing: Loki x fem! reader

Prompt: here

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word count: 1183

A/N: I’m sad to inform you, but this is the last part of this series. I hope you liked it and please send in requests so I can get started on something new!

Masterlist

Part 1 2

It had been a couple months since Thor had walked in on your first kiss with Loki. It was safe to say it wasn’t the only kiss the two of you had shared after that, but you were keeping the relationship a secret to avoid as much teasing as you possibly could. It didn’t stop Thor from almost outing the relationship several times a day, because he loved teasing his brother about you. Luckily most of the other Avengers thought he was only doing it because you and Loki had become friends so quickly.

Loki liked sneaking around and stealing a kiss or two from you right under everyone’s noses in training and during mission briefings or when the Avengers were just hanging out together. You were extremely confused over how no one had noticed the two of you yet, but you weren’t complaining about the privacy.

When Loki had trouble falling asleep because of what had happened on Asgard he used to teleport to your room and apologise profusely for disturbing your sleep, but you quickly shut him up with a kiss or a hug and cuddled with him until he fell asleep. You thought it was adorable how Loki always braided his hair into small braids before going to sleep and you loved playing with them as you hummed an old lullaby.

Loki loved listening to your voice and he had made it a sport for himself to ask the right questions about your interests to get you to talk for hours on end. He took you out on a couple of dates and asked you to show him how normal humans lived their lives here on Midgard. You were most excited about showing him the movies and theme parks. When you took him on the ghost ride, your favourite, he had tried to play tough at first, but he had ended up clinging to your arm for the entire ride. When the ride ended he insisted on going again.

To get Loki accustomed to the Midgardian culture you decided to have movie night every Thursday and you would either end up watching the cult classics or a couple episodes of a TV show. Who were you kidding? It always ended up being half a season, except when you watched Sherlock. Loki insisted on watching all four seasons at once and you were not hard to convince. You couldn’t lie, you loved a good movie marathon.

“Darling, could you show me some Midgardian music? I’ve heard some here and there, but I don’t quite understand the purpose of it.” Loki asked you one morning when you were eating breakfast in one of the compounds many kitchens.

“What kind of music do you wanna hear? Classical music or old classics or the songs that are trendy right now?” You turned to him, smiling. Loki looked confused and you couldn’t help but think he resembled a lost puppy.

“What is the difference between classical music and classic songs?” he wondered trying to wrap his head around it.

“Well, classical music is older music and most of it was composed a long time ago and it is purely instrumental. It can sound like this, for example.” You pulled out your phone and opened Spotify. You looked up some Mozart and let Loki listen to it.

“It sounds similar to Asgardian music, I like it.” You had guessed as much. Loki was an old soul and a pure one at that. He was simply misunderstood.

“Classic songs are songs that were big hits when they came out and are mostly from the 70′s, 80′s and 90′s. Like this one!” You pressed play and the tunes of 99 Luftballons started pouring out of the speakers of your phone. Loki’s face morphed into confusion and then into an amused smile.

“Why is the song such an odd one? What is she singing?” he asked and patted himself on the back in his mind as you set off rambling on about music. He leaned his chin in the palm of his hand and you completely missed the enchanted look on his face as he listened to you explain pop culture to him.

A few weeks later the two of you had fallen into a routine of you sharing a new pop culture reference with him every time the two of you had a meal together. It included songs, quotes, vines, memes, anything you could think of.

One day all of the Avengers were assembled to dinner together to celebrate that Loki and Thor had been with you for four months now. The Asgardian town near the compound had been finished and all the Asgardians had a home. The town had jobs, electricity, water, everything you could possibly need to live.

Tony decided to give a speech and after some bickering with Steve he finally stood up and everyone silenced. He spoke kind words and frankly, you were quite surprised he was so good at giving a heartfelt speech.

“... and lastly I want to thank y/n, who has done so much for the town and for our two main guys. You have helped all the Asgardians settle down here on our little earth and we couldn’t have had a better person to help make that happen.” Tony ended his speech with a big smile and ‘cheers’ and you smiled back at him.

You felt Loki squeeze your hand under the table and you decided it was time for the meals pop culture reference, a song. You cleared your throat to get everyone’s attention and you felt Loki’s questioning eyes searching for your eyes.

“So as most of you know me and Loki have been really close ever since the Asgardians got here. Most of you also know about our pop culture reference game where I tell him about a new song, quote, vine or meme before every meal. Today I’d like to share the song with all of you because I feel like it reflects my emotions for this special guy in my life very well.” You heard someone whistle and you knew it was Thor. You felt yourself blush and your hands were shaking, but you still managed to open your phone and Spotify. “The song’s name is You Got Me and it is by Stella and Alexandra.” You pressed play and turned to Loki. You saw as tears filled his eyes when he listened to the lyrics of the song.

You leaned forward and planted the softest kiss on Loki’s cheek and you could hear the others hollering and whistling. You pulled back to look at him, but he pulled you back gently for a proper kiss. You smiled into the kiss and felt happy as the chorus of the song played in the background.

You got me going, you got me moving You got me loving you every day

(You got me, you, you, you got me)

You got me reeling, just from the feeling You got my love, love, love in every way

(You got me, you, you, you got me)

YGM:

@lokis-sunflower-anna

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@highlady-ofthe-summercourt @hazzyhollander @memyselfandmaddox @marvel-munchkin @littlekittyfoxx @vodkaqueensstuff @salty-buchanan @laurfangirl424 @lokis-sunflower-anna @greekdemigodwannabe

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #reader insert #reader #request #sunflowerannawrites #avengers imagine #avengers #asgard #thor #the avengers #finished #My writing #lowkey writes

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orbemnews · 3 years

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Roger Berlind, 90, Dies; Broadway Impresario Who Amassed 25 Tonys Roger Berlind, who produced or co-produced greater than 100 performs and musicals on Broadway, together with such vital and box-office hits as “The E-book of Mormon,” “Expensive Evan Hansen,” “Metropolis of Angels” and revivals of “Guys and Dolls” and “Kiss Me, Kate,” died on Dec. 18 at his residence in Manhattan. He was 90. His household stated the trigger was cardiopulmonary arrest. Throughout a four-decade profession within the theater, Mr. Berlind backed a few of the most unique work on Broadway and amassed an astonishing 25 Tony Awards, one of many largest hauls on document. (Hal Prince, one other prodigious Tony-winning producer, collected 21.) Mr. Berlind helped convey buoyant musicals to the stage, just like the smash 1992 revival of “Guys and Dolls” with Nathan Lane, in addition to refined literate dramas, like the unique 1984 manufacturing of “The Actual Factor,” Tom Stoppard’s dazzling exploration of the character of affection and honesty. “The Actual Factor” swept the Tonys, successful for finest play and finest director (Mike Nichols) and garnering high appearing awards for Jeremy Irons, Glenn Shut and Christine Baranski. His path to Broadway was oblique. In a position to play the piano by ear, he fancied himself a songwriter, however his dream of creating a dwelling that approach fell flat and he went to work on Wall Road. He was a companion at a brokerage agency when tragedy struck: His spouse and three of his 4 youngsters had been killed in an airliner crash at Kennedy Worldwide Airport. Inside days, he resigned from his agency. “The entire thought of constructing a enterprise and making a living didn’t make sense anymore,” he informed The New York Occasions in 1998. “There was no extra financial motivation.” After a interval within the wilderness, he discovered his strategy to Broadway, which helped him rebuild his life and set up a complete new profession. “The numerous factor about Roger is that he made an unbelievable turnaround,” Brook Berlind, his second spouse, stated in a cellphone interview. “His life was totally bifurcated by the accident,” she stated. “There was Act I and Act II. I don’t suppose many different individuals might have gone on to such success after such disaster.” Success on Broadway got here slowly. Mr. Berlind’s first manufacturing, in 1976, was the disastrous “Rex,” a Richard Rodgers musical (with lyrics by Sheldon Harnick) about Henry VIII, which the Occasions theater critic Clive Barnes stated “has nearly every little thing not going for it.” Because it occurred, the music of Mr. Rodgers bookended Mr. Berlind’s profession. His final present, of which he was one in all a number of producers, was the darkly reimagined Tony-winning 2019 revival of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Oklahoma!” (That present made Broadway historical past when the actress Ali Stroker grew to become the primary one who makes use of a wheelchair to win a Tony.) After “Rex,” Mr. Berlind co-produced six different exhibits earlier than he had his first hit with the unique 1980 manufacturing of “Amadeus,” during which a mediocre composer burns with jealousy over the genius of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The play, written by Peter Shaffer, directed by Peter Corridor and starring Ian McKellen and Tim Curry, took residence a number of Tonys, together with finest play. Two extra successes rapidly adopted: “Refined Women,” a 1981 revue with music by Duke Ellington; and “9,” a 1982 musical primarily based on the Fellini movie “8½” a few tortured movie director going through skilled and romantic crises. Alongside the way in which had been loads of flops. Producing on Broadway is all the time dangerous, with no surefire system for successful. It grew to become much more difficult within the late twentieth century, as theater individuals migrated to Hollywood, labor and promoting prices soared and excessive ticket costs discouraged audiences. Getting exhibits off the bottom required an increasing number of producers to pool their assets, and even then they had been unlikely to recoup their investments. Certainly one of Mr. Berlind’s achievements was staying within the sport. Regardless of the challenges, he took probabilities on exhibits as a result of he believed in them, and since he might afford to lose as usually as he gained. “I do know it’s not price it economically,” he informed The Occasions in 1998. “However I really like theater.” His successes included “Proof,” “Doubt,” “The Historical past Boys,” the 2012 revival of “Demise of a Salesman” with Philip Seymour Hoffman and the 2017 revival of “Howdy, Dolly!” with Bette Midler. Scott Rudin, who produced about 30 exhibits with Mr. Berlind, stated that Mr. Berlind was propelled by “monumental fortitude and persistence.” “He was not dissuaded by the obstacles that dissuaded different individuals,” Mr. Rudin stated in an electronic mail. “He had monumental positivity, which is way, rather more uncommon than you would possibly suppose.” That grew to become evident after the terrorist assaults of Sept. 11, 2001, when Broadway went darkish for 48 hours, an indication of the financial uncertainty that hung over the town. On the time, Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani urged theaters to reopen rapidly, and so they did. However a half-dozen exhibits closed, and one on the verge of doing so was “Kiss Me, Kate,” during which Mr. Berlind had been deeply concerned and of which he was enormously fond. He was enthralled with Cole Porter’s music, and every little thing within the present had clicked. The winner of 5 Tonys, together with finest revival of a musical, “Kate” had been operating for practically two years and was not scheduled to shut till Dec. 30, 2001. However due to a pointy drop in ticket gross sales, the manufacturing was going to shut early. A cut-off date of Sept. 23 was introduced. Simply earlier than the curtain rose on what was purported to have been the ultimate efficiency, Mr. Berlind, a modest man who evinced little of the showmanship typical within the theater, took to the stage. He held the closing discover in his hand and ripped it up. “The present will go on,” he declared, to an already emotional viewers. The forged and crew had agreed to quit 25 p.c of their pay and to donate one other 25 p.c to purchase tickets to the present for rescue employees. The transfer allowed “Kate” to maintain operating till its scheduled Dec. 30 closing. “That was my Merrick second,” Mr. Berlind later informed The Guardian of London, referring to David Merrick, one in all Broadway’s famously outsize showmen. The Guardian went on to reward Mr. Berlind’s exuberant London manufacturing of “Kate,” which opened that October, as “an emblem of the indomitability and charm underneath strain of a neighborhood, certainly a metropolis, that has been reeling since 11 September.” Roger Stuart Berlind was born on June 27, 1930, in Brooklyn to Peter Berlind, a hospital administrator, and Mae (Miller) Berlind, an novice painter who gave portray classes whereas elevating her 4 sons. The household moved to Woodmere, on Lengthy Island, when Roger was 3. He attended Woodmere Academy and went on to Princeton, the place he majored in English. His campus life revolved across the theater. He joined the Triangle Membership, which performs student-written comedies, and Theatre Intime, a student-run theatrical group. Years later, in 1998, he donated $3.5 million to construct the 350-seat Roger S. Berlind Theater as a part of an enlargement of Princeton’s McCarter Theater. After graduating in 1952, he joined the Military and served within the Counterintelligence Corps in Germany. At one level he was on a troop ship with Buck Henry, the comedian actor and author who died this yr, and the 2 usually created exhibits for the troopers. When Mr. Berlind returned to New York in 1954, he was decided to change into a songwriter. “He liked the big-band music of the ’40s, he might play nearly any tune from the American songbook and he had a fantastic reminiscence for lyrics,” his son William stated in a cellphone interview. His personal tunes ran to the straightforward and nostalgic, as mirrored by their titles, “Lemon Drop Girlfriend” and “Isn’t It a Rainbow Day?” amongst them. However Tin Pan Alley was uninterested, and, needing a job, Mr. Berlind was pointed by pals to Wall Road. “I had by no means had an economics course in faculty,” he informed Playbill in 2005, “and I had 26 or 28 interviews earlier than anybody would rent me.” He labored for 4 years at an funding home, then in 1960 co-founded a brokerage agency, Carter, Berlind, Potoma & Weill, which went by varied iterations till it was acquired by American Specific in 1981. His companions alongside the way in which included Sanford I. Weill, who grew to become chairman and chief govt of Citigroup, and Arthur Levitt Jr., the longer term chairman of the Securities and Alternate Fee. It was a heady time for Mr. Berlind. However on June 24, 1975, his world stopped. He had gone to the airport that day to fulfill his spouse, Helen Polk (Clark) Berlind, and three of their youngsters — Helen, 12; Peter, 9; and Clark, 6 — who had been returning to New York from New Orleans after visiting Helen Berlind’s mom in Mississippi. Whereas on strategy to Kennedy in a extreme storm, the Boeing 727, Japanese Air Strains Flight 66, was swept down by a wind shear and crashed, killing 113 of the 124 individuals on board, together with Mr. Berlind’s household. Their son William, 2, was at residence in Manhattan along with his nurse on the time. As he grew up, he had unresolved points round what had occurred. “Roger was so broken by the accident that he didn’t spend as a lot time with William on this topic as he might have,” Ms. Berlind, who married Mr. Berlind in 1979, stated. Lastly, a psychiatrist informed Mr. Berlind that he wanted to reply William’s questions, even when he requested the identical factor time and again. Ultimately, this proved therapeutic for each father and son. “He was current and robust for me,” stated William Berlind, a former reporter at The New York Observer and author for The New York Occasions Journal, who adopted his father to Broadway and collaborated with him on a number of exhibits. “He was marked by the tragedy,” he added, “nevertheless it didn’t eat him, and he persevered.” Along with his spouse and son, Mr. Berlind is survived by two granddaughters and a brother, Alan. In time, pals related Mr. Berlind with individuals within the theater, and he was quickly immersing himself in the complete strategy of placing on a present. He had a fame for usually being extra aware than many producers about not interfering with the inventive course of. However Mr. Berlind all the time insisted that the work he backed have benefit. Whereas he stored a chilly eye on the underside line, he may very well be seduced by sheer artistry. “He had been a tricky and profitable businessman, however in his theater life he was besotted by expertise, and that’s what he invested in,” Rocco Landesman, who produced “Guys and Dolls,” “Kiss Me, Kate” and “Proof” with him, stated in an electronic mail. “He liked his flops nearly as a lot as his hits,” Mr. Landesman added. “And every time one in all his exhibits closed, Roger was ‘accessible’ once more.” Supply hyperlink #Amassed #Berlind #Broadway #Dies #Impresario #Roger #Tonys

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writemarcus · 3 years

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Heartbeat Opera Announces The 2021-2022 Season

August 10, 2021

Maria A. Rodriguez

On Heartbeat Opera Announces The 2021-2022 Season

HEARTBEAT OPERA will return to the stage for its eighth season this year. Heartbeat’s 2021-22 season kicks off in September with a free outdoor screening of BREATHING FREE, their visual album that connects Beethoven’s Fidelio with the work of black composers and lyricists such as Harry T. Burleigh, Langston Hughes and Anthony Davis to manifest a dream of justice, fairness and free breathing. BREATHING FREE builds on Heartbeat’s work in 2018 with incarcerated singers and prison choirs, and continues its exploration of race and the American prison system. Then in December, MESSY MESSIAH, Heartbeat’s beloved annual drag extravaganza, returns after six years of Halloween shenanigans for a new Christmas special. Looking ahead to winter 2022, Heartbeat plans to make its very first tour, reviving its production of FIDELIO, which the New York Times’ Joshua Barone called “urgent, powerful and poignant”, for seven performances in four cities, kick off at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Heartbeat will later present its pilot production of projects NO EVIL, QUANDO, ossia Project “0”, which is co-produced with Long Beach Opera and reshapes the music of Verdi’s operas La Traviata and Don Carlo and Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice in 25 short minutes. footage. Heartbeat also continues to work on its very first commission, THE EXTINCTIONIST, an opera by Heartbeat musical co-director Daniel Schlosberg, librettist Amanda Quaid and Heartbeat co-founder and resident director Louisa Proske. The Extinctionist is fighting climate catastrophe and one woman’s unorthodox choice, with the aim of presenting its world premiere in the winter of 2023.

At the helm are Artistic Director Ethan Heard, Associate Artistic Director Derrell Acon, Musical Co-Directors Jacob Ashworth and Daniel Schlosberg, and General Manager Annie Middleton. Heartbeat Opera was founded in 2014 and has since grown from an independent “start-up” to an internationally renowned player, always hailed as a leader in visioning the future of opera.

The 2021-22 season

BREATHING FREE, a visual album

September 18 at Pier 63, Hudson River Park Trust At dusk A free outdoor screening with live performances (Next additional screenings to be determined)

Focus on empowering black people in the arts With excerpts from Beethoven’s Fidelio, Negro Spirituals and songs by Harry T. Burleigh, Florence Price, Langston Hughes, Anthony Davis, Thulani Davis

Director: Ethan Heard Director: Anaiis Cisco Creative producer: Ras Dia Musical co-directors: Jacob Ashworth & Daniel Schlosberg Director of the movement: Emma Jaster

Watch the trailer without breathing

Nominated for the 2021 Drama League Award for Outstanding Digital Concert Production

In 2018, Heartbeat collaborated with 100 singers incarcerated in six prison choirs to create a contemporary American Fidelio told through the lens of Black Lives Matter. In 2020 – the year of George Floyd’s murder, a pandemic ravaging our prison population, and the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth – they organized a cycle of songs, animated by live music videos, mingling excerpts from Fidelio with Negro Spirituals and songs from Black Composers and Lyricists, which together manifest a dream of justice, fairness … and free breathing.

Jamilyn Manning-White in DRAGUS MAXIMUS, photo by Andrew Boyle

MESSIAH DISORDER

December 16 at 8 p.m. and December 17 at 7 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. roulette in Brooklyn

Directed by Ethan Heard Music conducted by Jacob Ashworth Arranged by Daniel Schlosberg

Watch WNET’s ALL ARTS feature on Heartbeat’s Drag Extravagances

Heartbeat’s beloved annual drag opera extravaganza returns in all its glory this December. Over the past seven years, Heartbeat has presented six fabulous extravagances in Brooklyn venues: Hot Mama: Singing Gays Saving Gaia; Dragus Maximus: a homosexual opera odyssey; Everyone is a drag! Shakespeare in love … with opera; Queens of the Night: Mozart in Space; Miss Handel; and Purcell’s Fairy Queen. These interdisciplinary celebrations playfully blend opera classics with pop culture and drag to create an otherworldly experience that encourages audience members to embrace opera in a new way.

This year the show moves to December, just in time for Christmas. With familiar tunes from Handel, Tchaikovsky, Berlin and many more, this naughty show celebrates the holidays with wit and warmth. Expect tradition … with a touch of peppermint.

Kelly Griffin in FIDELIO, photo by Russ Rowland

FIDELIO

Heartbeat’s First Tour

February 10, 12 and 14, 2022 at the Met Live Arts, New York City February 19 at the Mondavi Center, UC Davis, California February 22 at the Scottsdale Performing Arts Center, Arizona February 26 and 27 at the Broad Stage, Santa Monica, California

Music by Ludwig van Beethoven Original libretto by Joseph Sonnleithner & Georg Friedrich Sonnleithner Adapted and directed by Ethan Heard Arrangements and music conducted by Daniel Schlosberg New dialogue in English co-written by Marcus Scott and Ethan Heard With Derrell Acon (Roc), Curtis Bannister (Stan), Kelly Griffin (Leah), Victoria Lawal (Marcy), Tim Mix (Pizarro) and more than 100 singers imprisoned in six prison choirs

Heartbeat planned to run its Fidelio in 2020, on the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth. Then the pandemic struck, particularly affecting the incarcerated and forcing them to postpone the tour. Then George Floyd was assassinated, triggering a much needed racial calculation. Now, with humility and a renewed sense of purpose, Heartbeat has the opportunity to bring the tour back and even expand it. The story of their Fidelio is more urgent and current than ever:

A black activist is wrongly imprisoned. His wife, Leah, disguises herself to infiltrate the system and free it. But when injustice reigns, a woman’s courage may not be enough to save her love. Featuring the voices of imprisoned people, this daring adaptation pits corruption against courage, hatred against hope.

Heartbeat is excited to continue their work on this Fidelio, updating the booklet for our current moment, deepening the company’s commitment to anti-racism in everything it does, collaborating more with its prison choir partners, sharing the production and sparking important conversations. This tour is Heartbeat’s biggest and most ambitious endeavor to date. They have the opportunity to reach thousands of new audience members, including hundreds of young people, in four cities across the country.

QUANDO, ossia Project “0”

In-person screenings with live performances in New York and Long Beach, April 2022 A co-production with Long Beach Opera The pilot production of NO EVIL Projects

Creative produced by Derrell Acon Music conducted and arranged by Daniel Schlosberg In-person screenings with live performances in New York and Long Beach in April 2022 (date to be confirmed)

Some of the most beautiful and famous music in the opera canon becomes the landscape for this fierce social satire of sex, activism, and everyday performance. Music from Gluck’s Verdi La Traviata and Don Carlo and Orfeo ed Euridice operas is repurposed and transformed into a 25-minute short film that follows a young couple with starry eyes as their night on the town unfolds in a surreal whirlwind of decadence , intrigue and ultimately, a vengeful justice.

The short, a co-production with Long Beach Opera and produced by Heartbeat’s new Associate Artistic Director, Derrell Acon, will be screened as is, followed by a second screening featuring live songwriters disrupting and actively re-enacting the music. of the score for a unique theatrical experience. No two performances will be the same, as the ending will change with each iteration of the live performances, and audiences will be challenged to reexamine their perception of art and its role in transforming society.

NO EVIL is an initiative to create a self-replenishing seed fund for new opera projects by the creators of BIPOC (black, indigenous and other people of color). Acon is in conversation with OPERA America, the Sphinx Foundation, and other industry colleagues about the full structure of NO EVIL Projects, which is slated to launch in 2022.

Acon states, “As the Equity in the Arts Specialist for the OPERA America New Works Forum, I have had the opportunity to facilitate the adjudication committees of all BIPOCs for the award, and have was deeply impressed by the nuance of perspective and intentionality centered in these discussions. I am convinced that the financial barriers faced by marginalized creators in the field require even more attention and action – and, frankly, MONEY! “

THE EXTINCTIONIST

A new opera in one act

Music by Daniel Schlosberg Libretto by Amanda Quaid, after her play Directed, designed and developed by Louisa Proske Music conducted by Jacob Ashworth

World premiere production coming in winter 2023

In the 2020-21 season, Heartbeat Opera commissioned its very first opera, The Extinctionist, a one-act work that deals with the catastrophic effects of climate change and a woman’s unorthodox choice to sterilize to save the planet. and become the very first “Fire extinguisher.” Dark comedy turns a woman’s body into a battleground of our political anxieties, our conflicting desires, and our individual responsibility.

Last May, The Exctintionist was featured in The New York Times, which chronicled Heartbeat’s long-standing commitment to reinventing classic works and its further expansion in commissioning. A semi-staged production of the opera premiered in May 2021 at PS21 in Chatham, New York, and the world premiere is slated for winter 2023.

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#Fidelio #Heartbeat Opera #Daniel Schlosberg #Ludwig van Beethoven #Beethoven #Ethan Heard #Marcus Scott #MarcusScott #WriteMarcus #Write Marcus

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