#oh italian I did an aria once
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Huh… never mind, I guess…? As I said aemilia aers [punto in aria/aemilia aers naming conventions discussed in a previous post] and Burano have a ton of overlap [brought back for realsies within a couple decades of each other though from my understanding geometric lace never completely went away] so maybe I was right the first time. Okay but if they had access to multiple Italian pieces why doesn’t it list which ones…? Did no one WRITE THAT DOWN?
Oh the lace gods you desire my suffering
Anyway don’t get into needle lace research unless you’re okay with something like this happening to you at least once a month.
#needle lace is weird and i have a headache now#needle lace discussion#a correction to my correction…?#who knows#if you are just joining me or you’ve read my work before: thank you#seriously just… thank you#sometimes it’s more btw#once it hits once a week it’s time to take a break#or so my friends tell me
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Richard Tauber Programme with Gwen Catley
Gwen Catley - coloratura soprano
Gwen Catley was once known in Britain as the "highest voice in the land". Standing only 4'11" tall, she had a high and accurate coloratura voice, with often a very lovely poise of delivery. She was a natural. She came from a family of serious musical amateurs, and as a child always sang around the house. At two and a half, she joined in a concert performance of Oh! For the Wings of a Dove.
She received no teaching until she began attending the Guildhall at the age of sixteen for twenty-minute lessons on a Saturday morning. She first worked on the Air du Rossignol by Saint-Saëns. Her professor took her to the Principal Sir Landon Ronald (who had been accompanist to Patti and Melba). Sir Landon said "she reminds me of Melba – bring her back in a year's time."
At that time a Gold Medal was awarded every year to the student who was thought would make an impression in the profession. Catley was to get the Medal, but her father argued with Ronald, saying he wouldn't have any daughter of his enter such a profession. So the Medal was withdrawn.
A year later she became engaged. On telling the good news to Landon Ronald, he asked, "to whom?" She replied, "a cellist". He said, "Oh, they never have any money – you'll have to sing. You'd better have the Gold Medal after all". Sir Landon Ronald then sponsored her debut at the Wigmore Hall, which had to open its gallery to accommodate the crowd. Her first half was a mixture of early Italian, French and German songs, and the second half consisted of operatic arias. She received work in musicals, the radio and Sadler's Wells Opera, where she was to be a Queen of the Night, Nanetta and Gilda. At the time of singing Gilda, she weighed a mere 6 stone 5 lbs.
During the war, she was on the stage in London a good deal, and appeared on such radio shows as the Richard Tauber Hour and Friday Night is Seaside Night. She was requested to appear on Children's Hour. Sir Walford Davies (then Master of the King's Musick) was one of its organisers and, dispensing with small talk, he greeted her with "I hear you haven't got a wobble!"
Her voice was not large, but in the right circumstances she could be heard to good effect in the theatre. She was a good judge of these circumstances. She reported turning down Queen of the Night at Covent Garden on the grounds that in their productions the Queen would in all likelihood be two-thirds of the way towards the back of the stage. She did however try to get into Glyndebourne. Her agents Ibbs & Tillett sent her there to audition. She got as far as the Chorus Master, who said, "If you come for some singing lessons with me, I might get you into the chorus."
She did not enjoy oratorio particularly, and said she simply did not like the Messiah aria "I know that my redeemer liveth". She chose her radio work with some care too. In the interval of a Proms performance of hers in 1947, Kenneth Horne came to her on bended knee. He asked her to perform in his radio show Much Binding in the Marsh. She took a singing part as the "vet's niece", but left after six shows, as the music and scripts arrived only on the day, and she did not feel it was for her voice.
Much of her radio, and then TV, work was conducted by one or other of the Robinson brothers. Eric Robinson conducted an opening programme on TV with Margot Fonteyn dancing, Campoli playing the violin, and Norman Wisdom and her singing.
Stanford Robinson, a pillar at the BBC for 47 years, conducted many of her recordings. He was known for being cruel to some singers. "What are you trying to do there?" he asked as she did a downward portamento of an octave. "I'm not trying to do anything," she replied, "this is what I am doing."
In her concerts around the country, people always asked for Bishop's Lo! Here the Gentle Lark. This of course required a flautist, whom the local organisers would have to find. Far too often, she said, all you would hear from the flautist was "spit & blow". Her repertoire did include some more modern opera, and she took part in the first British broadcast of Stravinsky's Rake's Progress.
She suddenly retired when she said her voice no longer sounded right to her. She went to Italy for twenty years. When back in England, she began to teach. She taught Judi Dench to sing in Cabaret, after "going down and down to find the right key".
Gwen Catley's comments on present-day singers in 1995 (when she was 85 years old) were: "Today I don't hear the words, neither their ends nor their beginnings".
These notes were written with the help of a radio interview in 1995 when Catley was 88.
#classical music#opera#music history#bel canto#composer#classical composer#aria#classical studies#maestro#chest voice#Gwen Catley#Catley#lyric coloratura soprano#coloratura soprano#soprano#Richard Tauber#Hour and Friday Night is Seaside Night#broadcast#lyric Tenor#Tenor#Romeo and Juliet#Roméo et Juliette#Charles Gounod#Gounod#classical musician#classical musicias#classical voice#classical art#classical history#historian of music
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None shall sleep (Ethan x MC)
Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 5
Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine)
Word Count/Rating: ~1.8k, T
Summary: In the privacy of the diagnostic's office, Ethan & Noelle reflect on recent changes around them.
Category/Warnings: Fluff, None
Trope: And there was a bit of Hurt/Comfort
A/N: This chapter reminded me of things that have never been addressed... so this is a story of how things left unsaid all collided in my head. Hope you enjoy.
Also - yes, Ethan Ramsey can sing arias. Is anyone still truly surprised by the fact that this guy can do anything?
There is something mesmerizing about watching the lights of day go out, overpowered by darkness, ablaze with colours - from the depths of blue, through indigo, navy and all the way to pitch-black.
About how, in a sense, it washes away all the bothers and allows you to start anew with the next rise of the almighty sun.
Ethan Ramsey was hoping for this exactly, maybe more than ever, but all the signs showed it wasn’t in the cards for him.
Or at least not today.
He stared into the void, interwoven by occasional human figures passing by through the front lobby. No voices of the day were able to reach him on the 7th floor of his kingdom. Behind the glass wall, he was almost in a different world.
It had been yet another day that brought him more gritted teeth, holding himself back and resigned sighs, than actual satisfaction from helping those who counted on him. All these ‘activities’ were not only annoying but also highly energy-consuming.
Bringing the index and middle fingertips to his pulsating temples, he started to compress and massage them in small circles, trying to soothe the pounding inside his skull. He could hear the blood rushing through the highways of his veins, the sound almost drowning out all external stimuli.
But there were certain sounds his expert ear was trained on, the ones he would’ve recognized even in his sleep.
Like the one reaching his ears right now, the sound of the door handle being pressed.
With his back facing the door, he couldn’t see who was trying to impose on his much-needed solitude. But since the unexpected guest did not precede their ministrations by knocking, the possibilities narrowed down significantly. There were only two people on the premises of Edenbrook who could invade his personal space without a modicum of manners.
“Can I help you?” He modulated his voice to ensure the tone was expressing two things: annoyance and irony in the otherwise polite question.
“I’m sorry.” From all the voices, this one he did not expect to hear now. A melodic tone was joined by a scuffle of retreating steps. “Do you want me to go?”
Ethan curled his lips in a tiny smile. They both knew she wasn’t apologetic and that he wanted anything but her to leave.
“No, it’s just that there are only two people in this hospital that wouldn’t bother knocking and I thought it was one of them paying me a visit.”
“Let me guess… Zaid and Baz?”
“No, but in terms of concept, you were actually close…just another type of evil ‘twins’."
“Oh, you mean his majesty King Bloom & his annoyance Dr Carrick?”
“Even as a joke, it sounds creepy and horrible.”
“Well, count me as a third now. Heads up though, I will only stop knocking after twilight.”
It was clear as crystal Ethan’s already specific sense of humor had less than ever space for amusement.
“I brought you this.” She put a brown paper bag on his desk, which immediately revealed the aroma of something delicious. “I figured you’re probably gonna stay here all night, so I thought I’ll pop over and check on you.”
He didn’t say anything, staring into the darkness. Not because he didn’t want to - he simply didn’t know what. This simple gesture was very touching and filled him with gratitude. But he was lacking the right words.
Then, for the first time since she’s interrupted his train of thought, he turned around to look at her. Tired and with puffy eyes, she’d still put everyone else to shame. Even on the worst of days, the light radiating from her turned heads and made the room brighter.
She extended a hand and when their fingers touched, he felt this weird, tingly feeling that has traveled from his palm, through his arm and neck, and then straight to his core.
Pressing him gently against the edge of the desk, she took his glasses off. Then loosened his tie and nonchalantly disheveled his hair. Ethan wouldn’t let anyone else in the world touch them, let alone put them in a state of such disarray.
With her, all the rules existed only to be broken.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in this big brain of yours?”
“Smart move, Valentine. You’ve pacified me so that now I will have no choice but to tell you whatever you want to know.”
“You always have a choice, let’s just hope you’re gonna make the right one.”
Ethan nodded, no sound escaping his lips. She knew she’d have to take it upon herself to get any information out of her stubborn converser.
“So, how are you holding up? I want an honest answer."
“I’ve been better.”
“I thought so.”
“It’s just that… Tobias is driving me crazy. His presence really tests my patience… I don’t know if I would’ve stopped myself from punching him had it not been for you.”
“Why thank you, I didn’t know my therapeutic services were that good.”
“They are.” Ethan cleared his throat. “But it’s… not just that.”
Dead silence lingered between them and he knew he had no other choice but to continue.
“The only reason why I haven’t wiped this ridiculous smirk off his face yet is that whenever I look at him, I… I see you in that room with Travis. I’m trying to remind myself that, as much as I hate to admit it, he was crucial to finding the cure on such short notice.”
“Ethan…”
“I already told you” - he interrupted her as if not to stop the words from flowing, afraid they may be trapped forever otherwise - “that there was so much more at stake last time Tobias set foot in Edenbrook.”
She took a deep breath, her eyes going slightly wider.
“The truth is, for me… everything was at stake. I would’ve done anything he’d asked me to, I’d have forgiven him if it meant saving you.”
Elle turned still, all her body movements, her breathing and even her blinking ceased.
It was one of those moments that mean so much but leave you with so little to say.
Using the power of non-verbal communication and their deep affinity, she bestowed on him the most gentle, loving and grateful expression her face could muster after yet another exhausting shift.
Ethan extended his arm and before she realized it, her back was gently pressed to the older doctor’s chest. Having wrapped her slender frame with his broad shoulders, Elle inhaled his familiar aroma. He smelled of comfort and felt like a safe harbor. He nudged her hair with his nose and placed a featherlight kiss on the crook of her neck. She smelled of calmness and felt like coming back home from a long journey.
“So,” - he murmured directly into her ear - “whether you like it or not, I am using you to soften the blow every time I look at Tobias’ face.”
“I think I can live with that.”
“But I can’t guarantee it will always be enough, he is a cocky son of a bitch.”
“Let's make a deal then. I see how much it costs you and I’m not telling you to trust Leland or forgive Tobias, I still believe you should be cautious. Let’s just wait and see where this goes, I think we’ll know sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we should focus on what matters the most, our patients.”
“Where is the deal part?”
“If it turns out you were right, I will hold Tobias and you will punch him. Deal?”
“I believe it should be the other way round. Declan Nash’s face told me your right hook is exquisite, Rookie.”
They both laughed at the memory which seemed so distant now, almost as if it's happened in another lifetime.
But Ethan went quiet again and she felt his body tense up, his arms tightening gently around her. It wasn’t very obvious, but she knew. It still came as a shock how well she actually knew him.
“Ethan? What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Ethan.”
“I’m sorry, I am not the most cheery companion today. You’re probably better off not spending too much time with me before you turn into a cynic.”
“Dr Ramsey, what a pathetic attempt of trying to get rid of me. You’ve never been the most cheerful type and I’ve survived your gloomy companionship, hell, I think it grew on me over time. So I should be ok today, too.”
It looked like silence was very much their third companion today.
“I’m thinking about Francis.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I’m thinking about how hard it would be not to see. So many beautiful things, colors, all turning into nothingness.”
“I take it you mean the opera?”
“That too, but let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate things that are right in front of my nose… literally and figuratively.”
The butterflies started somersaulting in her stomach.
“I didn’t want to add more to your plate at the time, but I’ve already felt this way… when we diagnosed Caroline and Leland.”
It was funny that, despite his obvious animosity towards Bloom, whenever his wife was in the picture, he spoke about both in an almost affectionate way. His doctor’s instincts were kicking in, because first and foremost he was a doctor who had his patients’ best interest at heart.
“The thought of not being able to touch you…it reminded me of touching you through the layer of hazmat suit. And now with everything Francis has been through, I just can’t be bothered to think about anything else but you. This is my true personal connection to this case.”
It was her turn to be speechless.
Ethan tightened his grip over her once again, this time protectively rather than out of stress. Slow hum started filling the air, the melody soon joined by lyrics, which he sang in fluent Italian; a private concert, performed for her and her only.
Tu pure, oh Principessa
Nella tua fredda stanza
Guardi le stelle
Che tremano d'amore
E di speranza**
She remembered their patient’s face, which seemed calmer once Ethan started singing the aria before the depths of illness contorted it with pain.
Francis' husband's words echoed throughout her head.
Even though the man holding her in his arms didn’t say it, there was no need.
She knew.
He will always be here.
And she will always be here, too.
-----
** Lyrics - aria "Nessun Dorma" (‘None shall sleep’) from the opera "Turandot".
Translation:
Even you, oh Princess,
In your cold room,
Watch the stars,
That tremble with love
And with hope.
Tag 🔖 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @maurine07 @lovingramsey @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @archxxronrookie @jamespotterthefirst @the-pale-goddess @queencarb @fireycookie @qrkowna @coffeeheartaddict @utterlyinevitable @gryffindordaughterofathena @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @mrs-ramsey @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @mercury84choices @lisha1valecha @lucy-268 @stateofgracious @danijimenezv @alina-yol-ramsey
@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 7
Afterglow chapters
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lunch with Bucky was spent in a little Italian place right across the bar. It belonged to a seventy-year old Italian immigrant named Marco who invested in it with nothing but his savings when he first came to New York. Fifteen years later, his little dining place stood still through its ups and downs. In fact, business was getting stronger for Marco ever since the bar opened. His target customers expanded from fellow immigrants to little boys who played soccer in the little league and finally to drunk bastards who wanted pizza in the middle of the night. He also started putting up a 24/7 sign and hired more people to work for him. Marco gave me a sympathetic smile as soon as he passed by you with a bottle of hot sauce he knew you liked.
"Where's the hunk?" His Italian accent never faltered. "Ditched ya?"
Lunch with Bucky was also cut short when he received a phone call from Leonard about an emergency in the White Wolf. "It's Leonard." He said. "Gotta get back to the hotel." Then you slipped in a tiny question, seeing a different phone on his hand: "Is that your phone? I thought you left it in your penthouse, that's why you crashed into our apartment."
"I borrowed Peter's old phone when we did our little fiancè act back there. Then I got my phone back after I ate all that food."
"And here you are again eating."
"Not anymore, I'm not." He chuckled, getting up from the chair and throwing his napkin gently on the table. "I gotta go, doll. Duty awaits. I'll see you around."
You were left there with two plates of pasta, one large pizza, and a hundred dollar bill that covered the whole meal. "Plus tip." Bucky then fled and hailed a cab. He gave you one last look and a small salute before getting inside then off he went.
"He had some business work to do." You replied. "Can I take these to-go please? Oh, and here." You handed Marco the hundred dollar bill and said something you have never said (not once!) in your entire life. "Keep the change."
Marco grinned, took the money and placed it inside his apron pockets. "Any chance you got four more of this?"
"Hey, that's with the tip already!" You playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back on the chair. "And you should ask the hunk that. Not me."
He started taking some plates off the table, his back a bit hunched as he did. "Who was that anyway? Finally replaced that old boyfriend of yours?"
"Old boyfriend? Marco, I'm single. Oh no, you're not at that stage now, are you?" It was meant as a joke but you did genuinely care for the old guy.
Marco stopped from picking up the plates and stood taller. "What ya talking 'bout?"
"You know," you whispered, "the forgetful stage."
"Oh fuck off." You earned a glare from him then continued to pick up the plates from the table before wiping it clean. A mother covered her three-year-old daughter's ears, with pasta noodles falling out of her mouth. She said something to Marco but was overpowered by his voice. A man in his 40's kept looking at you and Marco, probably wondering what the fuss was all about. "I'm still young!" He added. "And you know who I'm talking about. The guy you live with."
You scoffed and gave him an unbelievable look as you watched him clean, avoiding the stares people were starting to give. "That's not my boyfriend, Marco." You whispered.
"What? He's not?"
"He's my roommate." You took a sip of your bottled water. "We're roommates, nothing more."
"Well, good. I like the hunk better than that skinny roommate of yours." He bellowed laughing, holding his big, round belly. His voice echoed against the walls.
"Wait, so you thought Peter was my boyfriend this whole time?" You genuinely asked.
"Well, yeah! You were always together eating and whatnot. What was I supposed to think?"
You were supposed to argue with Marco that it was okay to be friends with someone of the opposite gender: to platonically hangout twenty-four seven, have pizza nights, movie nights, and all the things couples do but in a very platonic way. But Marco was an old man who stubbornly clung to his ancient beliefs. You didn't want to light a fire you and him. Besides, you were still on your way to earning his trust and getting a friend discount.
"Unbelievable." You mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear it. Despite his old age, Marco still had the ears of a twenty-year old.
"You and me, both. All the time I was thinking to myself, you could do better!"
Oh, God. I know where this is going. You thought. "I'm not letting you set me up with your son, Marco."
"Why not?"
"Because he's old." You groaned, wishing he would just clear the table and just get it on with your to-go Italian food.
"So was that hunk you were with!"
Tired of all the back and forths, you sighed. "Marco, can't you just give me the food? I still have work to do."
"Yeah, yeah, aight. Don't nag me." Marco grunted. "You sounding like my ex-wife back there." His voice faded once he went back towards the counter, and started placing the food in the little to-go boxes.
Your phone on the table lit up. A text message from Peter asking you if you were still with Bucky. You replied back instantly that he went back to the White Wolf. You received no more messages from him after that.
A few seconds later, a figure approached and stopped right in front of you. You looked up and saw one of your friends who also did photography back in college.
"Wanda?"
Wanda flashed you that sweet smile of hers that reminded you of chocolates, rainbows, and unicorns.
"Aria! Wow, it's so nice to see you!" She crouched down to envelope you in a warm hug, then sat across from you, where Bucky was sitting a few minutes ago. She placed her small, shiny purse right on the table, her painted nails never letting it go. "I was just walking down the street and then saw you from the window. How are you? It's been quite long, huh?"
"Yeah, I'm doing good." Wanda could be such a Chatty Cathy. She was the kind of person that never let silence take over a room. If you memory served you right, you haven't seen each other since you graduated from college. She was a year younger than you and even though you stayed in New York the whole time, you never bothered to visit her at NYU Tisch during her last year. "How about you? How have you been doing?"
"I'm doing real good too! I actually set up my own studio a year ago in Manhattan after being a wedding photographer. I now photograph models, sometimes I do photowalks. I also hold photo exhibits from time to time." Unlike you, Wanda chose to follow her passion and majored in Photography and Imaging. "It's been really fun!"
Albeit feeling happy for her, a pang of jealousy struck you. You tried your best to ignore it and said: "That's great, Wanda. I'm so proud of you. You've come a long way since then."
She grinned. "I did, yeah. How about you? How's the business thing?"
You pursed your lips. "I'm actually juggling two jobs right now. I bartend at that bar over there," you pointed across the street, "and I also started a photography business." You continued. "I just do product photos for small businesses."
It was nothing big like Wanda's. Actually, it wasn't anything compared to her Manhattan studio and photowalks and photo exhibits. Nothing at all.
Her jaw dropped. Eyes wide. "Bartending? Wow! That doesn't sound like you at all!"
You chuckled then shook your head. "Who would've thought, huh? But it's pretty convenient and it pays half of my rent."
"You're still living with the Parker guy?"
"Actually, yes I still am." You replied. "But it's just the two of us now."
"Nothing more comforting than a familiar face around, huh?" She answered. "Oh hey, it's great you're still doing photography. I thought it was just a hobby of yours."
"I fell in love with it more during college, you know that."
Wanda just nodded her head in response then looked at her wrist watch. "Right. Well, this has been fun but I have a meeting to go to at some company who wants to talk about collaborations and stuff. You know the drill." She stood up from the chair, its legs scraping the wooden floors. "It was really nice to see you, Aria. I hope we can see each other again soon."
You mirrored her and stood up, reaching for a hug. "It's nice to see you too, Wanda." You let her go, then rambled. "I'm just in the bar if you ever wanna grab a drink or maybe coffee or lunch or anything, really."
"I will." She replied.
Before walking out, Wanda placed her hand on your shoulder, matched with a tight-lipped smile; like the gesture of someone towards a family member at one's funeral. Funnily enough, it was kind of appropriate. Your career in photography might as well be dead. You haven't received any work inquiry in over a month now, and some businesses have been rejecting your photography services. It was the classic "it's not you, it's me" scenario. They just found someone better.
With Wanda out of sight, you drained your thoughts and continued to stare at the moving cars on the streets. Getting you out of your trance was Marco tapping you on the shoulder.
"You alright there, kid?" He asked while handing you a plastic bag full.
"Yeah, sorry." You answered. "Just got distracted." You relieved him of your to-go food, grabbing it from his calloused hands.
"I know that kid you were talking to."
"Wanda?"
"Yeah, yeah. She photographed my son's wedding."
"The one you kept setting me up with?"
"Not that old bastard." He answered, frowning. "The younger, hotter one. With all the cheekbones and the eyes. Got them from me." Marco looked like a taller Danny DeVito. You doubted this "younger, hotter one" of his looked anything like Marco. "She also photographed my daughter's wedding."
"Jesus. How many children do you have?"
"Five." He chuckled. "I got some great swimmers."
You made a guttural sound and rolled your eyes. "Oh, God. Did not need to know that. Anyway, I gotta go. See you around, Marco." With that, you started to walk out and headed straight to the apartment.
There was nothing much to do once you got in the apartment besides putting the leftovers inside the fridge. The bar usually opened at four in the afternoon for happy hour so you took a short nap and was able to clear you head of all the things that happened overnight.
You woke up at about three in the afternoon and headed down the bar. By the time you got there, Nick was already inside, arranging the tables and chairs that were turned upside down.
"Hey, you got in early today." You greeted him as you approached the bar counter.
Nick looked up, hands still wrapped around a table. "Yeah well, I can't let you be employee of the month every single time."
"Living right above the bar does have some of its perks." You chuckled, grabbing an apron. "Need help with those?"
He answered no but his actions said otherwise. You jogged towards him and lifted the other side of the table, placing it on the floor without making much of a sound. You walked towards the other tables then started lifting one, praying to God you won't let it slip away from your arms but of course, you still had no luck on your side. Once Nick asked you that one question ("Do you want to go on a date with me?") you didn't want to hear, you dropped the table on your right foot. Bam! You stifled the sound of pain that itched your throat. Nick shuffled towards me and asked me if you were okay. You gently shrugged him off, telling him that it was nothing and that you you recently had a concussion less than twenty-four hours ago, this was absolutely nothing.
"You sure?" He asked. His hand gripped my waist, trying to maintain my balance.
"Yes, Nick." You straightened up and tried to stretch your right foot, checking if it was sprained or not. Thankfully, it was still good for running.
He let go of you then scratched the back of his head. His eyes focused on the wooden floors. "That was not a good time to ask that."
"I don't think there was ever a good time to ask that."
"Is that a no?"
Your mind recalled the conversation you and Peter had at the elevator: "Never dip the pen in company ink, right?"
Yes, it was easier to let him down easy with no one else around. You could also tell him you'll think about it but either way, you'd still be spending the remaining minutes in the bar with the fleeting awkwardness hanging in the air. But the silence was becoming heavier each second you weren't saying anything so you just shut your mind for a second and said: "Is it okay if I think about it first?"
"Yes. Sure. Of course!" He replied, finally meeting your eyes. "Just let me know. You know where to find me. Just here in the bar. 'Cause I work here."
"I know, Nick." You snickered. "I work here too."
"Right, right." He shook his head. "I'm just gonna..." He trailed off, pointing to the tables with his thumb.
"Yeah, I'll just..." You didn't know where else to go so you just made up an excuse. "I'll just be in the kitchen."
"What are you gonna do there?"
"I think there are still some shipments there? From earlier?" Lie. "I'll take care of them. Don't worry."
"O-okay."
And with that, you left Nick arranging tables and chairs while you headed towards the kitchen, sat on the floor and scrolled through different social media platforms before one of the cooks entered the kitchen. You ignored the befuddled look she gave you. It was the sign to stand up and walk out of the kitchen. So you did.
Once Peter walked in the doors, you grabbed a bottle of beer and removed the bottle cap. You greeted him with a smile and placed his drink on the counter. "Hey, Parker. Guess what?"
"Hey, y/n." He smiled, sitting on the stool and placing his briefcase on the counter. He immediately grabbed the beer bottle and took his first sip. "Nick finally asked you out?"
"You don't know the rules to the 'Guess What' game, do you?"
"Oh, I know the rules." He replied. "I'm just a born rule breaker. So," he stared at his beer bottle scratching the sticker with his thumbs, "did you say yes?"
"I told him I'll think about it."
"And you've thought about it?"
"Yes."
"...and?"
"I'm gonna tell him no." You walked away from Peter, pouring beer from the beer tap into a beer mug for one of the regulars who just walked in. "It's kind of hard to work with someone you're dating or you've dated. I mean, you learned that the hard way, right?"
Peter groaned, reminiscing the time he dated his co-worker, a certain Denise, for six months, stringing her along for a couple more before dumping her. He couldn't even begin to describe how much hatred Denise had for Peter. One night, you found Peter on the rooftop, writing his resignation letter. Of course, you had to throw it after sneaking up on him behind his back. Apparently, Peter couldn't take any more of Denise's death stares during meetings, lunch breaks, and any time she was around Peter. Luckily, Denise got fired the next day for some legal dispute. Peter drank his whole night away that very day and you ended up taking care of him. The next day, you told him everything he'd done that night except one thing: trying to kiss you.
"Hey," Peter hissed, "here he comes. Good luck." He swiftly left his briefcase and beer bottle on the counter, hurrying his way towards the toilet.
You gave Nick a small smile once he opened the counter pass-through. "Nick. Hi."
"Y/n. Hi!"
"So, about the thing earlier -- "
"Can I get a beer?" Interrupted a man on your left side but you couldn't care less. You put up your hand in front of his face. "In a mug!"
Before you could even say "I'm sorry, Nick, but I can't date a co-worker. It's just not right. But you're great. Not just with me" the man shooed your hand away. "Hey! The hell is this?"
You groaned. "You'll get your beer in just one moment, okay?"
The man huffed and left the counter then sat on a nearby table, flipping me off. You rolled your eyes at him and brought your attention back to Nick who was still waiting for your answer. While halfway through your short speech you have been preparing in your head, he interrupted with a: "Yeah, yeah, I know where this is going. It's fine. It's alright. I understand. I'll let you get back to work."
He started turning around but you immediately stopped him. "So this is okay, right? No weird tension between us, or something like that?"
He nodded his head and sent you a warm smile. "Yeah, everything's good. At least I tried, y'know. I'll, uh, see ya around 'cause y'know -- "
"You work here, yeah."
"Yeah. Well... " And with that, he treaded away towards the pass-through and approached some newcomers.
The man from earlier was still staring at you so you went ahead and opened the beer tap. Before the liquid even reached the top of the mug, a hand laid on top of the tap handle and turned the tap off.
"Now," Bucky's voice rang inside your ears, "how about you make me a mean drink, doll?"
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes story#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#bucky au#au#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#bucky barnes fan fic
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Nabucco (Verona, 2017): Reactions, Part I
Y’all, I haven’t seen this opera in like three years and also apparently this production is metatheatrical??? I LIVE for that sort of thing.
other things I love: Risorgimento-era-set productions of Verdian political dramas
the detail and scope is just so great (I mean, Arena di Verona) and also this overture BOPS (even though, as I can tell you from experience, is VERY HARD)
we got a barricade!
horsies!!!
battle time!!!
these choruses are so pretty
I think Zaccaria is supposed to be like the mayor or leader or whatever idk
Fenena is So Done also she and that outfit are very pretty
“oh fucking great not the fireballs again”
“let’s go defeat some TYRANNY with our BOPTASTIC CHORUSES”
forbidden love!
“no I don’t want you to betray your cause just for little old me” aww Fenena
lads, the living embodiment of “gaslight gatekeep girlboss”
tfw you and your “sister” (pay attention to the air-quotes) are in love with the same tenor
for once, Area Verdi Tenor Is Completely Uninterested In The Soprano [Fenena is a mezzo, for those of you who have not seen this opera]
uh-oh the Habsburgs are here
now that is how to make an entrance in style
Zaccaria NO
Nabucco NO
Fenena: can everyone PLEASE just calm down for five seconds so we don’t all murder each other
THANK YOU ISMAELE
as for you, you really suck
wait did Zaccaria just get shot
edit: okay I don’t think that was Zaccaria but SOMEONE got shot
they’re burning the Italian flags
“well that went well” said no one ever
and the set turns!
this is SO pretty
well this is one hell of an awkward way to find out you’re adopted
Area Soprano Is VERY Pissed Off
hey the living embodiment of gaslight gatekeep girlboss has feelings too
(to be fair, she cannot catch a break here because not only did she just find out she isn’t actually of royal blood but also her younger sister is dating the guy she likes, which is AWKWARD)
well good on Fenena for setting the prisoners free
let’s have a COUP
this role is absolutely BRUTAL to sing and she’s holding up admirably well
and this is a lovely aria
hey stop it please be nice to Ismaele he is a Good Tenor
@simone-boccanegra was honestly right when she said that all Early Verdi Male Choruses sound almost exactly the same
Area Mezzo Switches Sides (also that outfit is GORG)
oh man now Fenena has a gun
oh no she misfired and accidentally grazed Ismaele
Rumors of Area Baritone’s Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated
the obligatory boptastic “oh boy shit’s happening it’s about to get REAL” ensemble
Area Baritone Now Declares That He Is God
she’s a badass I love her
oh that’s a clever move: instead of having supernatural lightning strike Nabucco, he gets shot by a bunch of the rebels
they deserve better
oh dang that is a LOT of blood
meanwhile, Abigaille is just calmly drinking
“he had it comin’, he had it comin’, he only had himself to blame; if you’d’a been there, if you’d’a seen it, I betcha you woulda done the same”
“didn’t do that but this plays PERFECTLY into my plans”
#opera#opera tag#Nabucco#opera liveblog#Verdi#Giuseppe Verdi#really enjoying this!#(although the lack of metatheatricality thus far is disappointing)#however there is an international food festival happening which means I get to eat a bunch of free food so the rest will come later
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At the Opera (Part one)
Pairing: Brian May x F! Singer! Reader.
Fluff! Lot’s of fluff! A bit of angst!
Word Count: 2,000
Content warning: swearing, mentions of boners, Reader and Brian being twice shy, nervous little beans
Context: Brian see’s you make your first big opera debut at school. He falls immediately in love with you. He’s scared of seeming like a creeper, though, and hopes he doesn’t...Switches between his perspective and yours.
Note: I am so excited about this fic I can’t stand it!!!!
First off, I imagine this takes place in the early seventies after Queen I or Queen II and before A Night at the Opera (heh) is released. Secondly, though is written to identify as female, use she/her pronouns, an opera singer, a student, and a soprano, if requested, I can make and send a different version to you. Maybe a reader who is in a musical! Or a straight play! Or is singing a mezzo role! Or a male reader! (etc.). Message me ASAP and I will message a version to you! with your desired version! A second part will be up in time and will probably stop there unless another idea comes. Enjoy and please leave feedback!
Brian had absolutely nothing else to do on a Friday evening except go by himself to an opera by a local University. It was a night where nothing was happening. No work. No papers to grade. No rehearsal. Nothing planned between the band members or his friend. He had those nights before. He was unusually restless. Instead of dwelling in his loneliness he thought he might as well go out. Get his mind from any sadness. And something a little different then heavy drums would be appreciated.
He looked down at the program once he got his seat. “Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi.” According to the summary in his encyclopedia it was only an hour long. If he didn’t like it, it would be over in a wink. After all, when he visited Freddie’s place once he noticed a record of it standing on top of a pile. If it was good enough for Freddie, then it was worth the ticket.
(You)
“Five minutes until the top!”
“Thank you, five!”
You stay still. You don’t really feel like talking to the other cast members. You smooth some of the white skirt and pray that the food crumble from the pre-performance snack doesn’t show. You were nervous. Tonight you were singing Lauretta in Schicchi for the first time- Lauretta! All of the sopranos in the school who it could have been and it was you! It didn’t matter that it was not one of the mainstage operas put on with a budget of millions and the biggest stage offered. It was one of your first major roles and you were doing everything you could not to burst. You had barely slept last night from the anticipation and the toll of exhaustion mixed with excitement were bubbling.
Any wishes of good luck from the cast and crew were forgotten.
“What if the high c’s at the end sound like crap because I was stupid enough not to be able to sleep last night and what…”
“Places for top!”
You took a deep breath, listened to the slow beginning of the overture, and did your best to focus on the story and telling it.
You could still smell the hairspray from your curled hair. The director asked for a more “natural” look to contrast Lauretta from the more exaggerated commedia-esque stock characters and yet it took you longer to do your hair and make-up because your hands were shaking so bad. You wanted to look like the flawless ingenue, but you felt briefly that you were just a toad in lipstick. How could anyone onstage believe you?
It was a while before you entered. Yet you stayed backstage, focusing on the meaning of every last note and word. The singer playing your onstage father, the titular Schicchi, walked up to prepare for your first entrance. You both didn’t appear until twenty minutes in, but it was getting close.
He smiled and winked at you and then went into character with his smart, cynical frown. You took my place next to him, held the skirt of your white medieval gown as demurely as you could muster, and prepared for the sound cue to enter.
Once you entered, you carried on, just like in rehearsal. Reacting in the moment and singing with the clearest Italian you could and with as much focus on breath as possible. At one point, when Rinuccio, your onstage lover, held your hands, you both began to wail beautifully about how you both could not be married on May Day. You indulged a look away from the conductor to the audience.
It was a smaller theatre-actually the smallest theatre on the campus that could still allow a piano and a string quartet. Plenty of old couples, college girls with long hair and red lips, and close to the middle, there was a very tall, thin, young man with a lion’s mane of curly, brown hair. Ironically, he seemed to be more into the opera than anyone else.
You were back in a second to the opera. You heard Schicchi’s “Non! Non! Non!”
Naturally, you begin singing your aria, “O mio babbio caro...”
(Bri)
Though Brian was delighted by the opera by the first note and laughing at the onstage family’s antics and allowing the music to charm him.
Then you entered onstage.
“Her eyes are so pretty and expressive…and she’s so small, she’s like a baby bird, oh, if only she was a little bird or even a cat I could hold in my hands for just a minute and her hair seems so soft, and, oh…that smile, oh she’s smiling, that fucking smile, she’s so beautiful and adorable, oh hell, oh hell. Oh fuck, and that voice, oh fuck, that voice. It’s so gorgeous and warm and genuine, oh, I’m so sorry Fred, but oh fuck, that voice, if only she could look at me, please look at me, please look at me and sing for me, just one word, please”
You crossed to a man - who was supposed to be her lover. Brian suddenly felt his stomach drop and his face twist to a frown.
“You git, it’s make believe. They aren’t together in real life...I hope they aren’t
He tried to peel his eyes away to another cast member to see what else they would do onstage that would amuse him. But he kept finding he was stealing quick glances.
When you began your aria, he felt tears well up in his eyes. It was so sweet sounding.
“O mio babbino caro! Mi piace, e bello, bello!”
He looked down at the translation program:
“Oh my dear papa! He pleases me, he is handsome!”
Brian had a sudden wish he was that boy. He felt the tears fall once he heard of Lauretta’s wish to die if she could not marry him.
“No , no, not you, the boy…”
(You)
You finished the aria. Looking into the audience, You were shocked to see a standing ovation.
Well, that is, one standing ovation. From the tall man with curly hair. And he was applauding like his life depended on it. A few others decided to follow suit and stood up to applaud and cheer. You did your best not to smile. Then once it had died down, Schicchi continued with his line- “Datemi il testamento!”
(Bri)
Brian sat down. He was flushed with embarrassment. How could he have been so…so much? But it was just so wonderful.
He was sighing once Schicchi sent Lauretta away and you left the stage.
He kept staring at the space where she left. He liked the plot of the opera well enough, but he felt himself leaning forward in his seat with impatience.
Once you appeared onstage for the last duet of triumph with Rinuccio, He was wondering if that man realized how lucky he was.
“I would wrap my arms around her l. I would hold her so tight that she would know she is safe, and everything is alright, now. I would look into those eyes looking up at me, I would pull her in, and then I would lean down so I can reach her lips and kiss…”
He pinched his own hand. “Focus, focus, the story is ending…wait…oh god, what if I have a stiffy! Shit! Shitshitshithshitshit!”
He looked down at his pants. Nothing was showing…that was obvious, at least. He had stopped himself before letting his fantasies go further. Still, he undid two buckles on his belt, just to be safe.
He looked down at the program, flipping to the cast list on the second page.
“Lauretta…(Y/F/N Y/L/N)”
(You)
The cast and crew gathered in the lobby for everyone to say their congratulations. You felt a ping of sadness that your family and friends could not make it. The most they could do was send some flowers, dangling in your arms.
You saw him stand a little in the corner, awkardly. He seemed very quiet. You glanced up at him and felt him glance up at you and your eyes shot back down. Then you looked back up and saw him look down. He was definitely close to your age.
Finally, you locked eyes for a bit. He swiftly walked to you and the flowers trembled in your arms. You wanted to run behind the stage door and slam it shut, yet at the same time you didn’t.
He walked up and said “Hi, I’m Brian, Brian May.”
“Hi Brian, I’m Y/N.”
Is someone actually approaching me???? And starting the conversation??
“ I just wanted to let you know, you were astounding. Your song was my favorite part…and this was my first opera!” Brian said
“Oh wow! Schicchi’s a great first opera.” you say, swallowing. “It’s a comedy, after all, and most people don’t think of opera’ as funny.”
“I loved it! I laughed so much! How do you keep from laughing onstage?”
“I breathe really slowly and focus, Brian.” You dropped his name and froze.
Wow, I must seem forward. But I don’t want to forget it...
“That’s wonderful, and the music is just, just incredible! What is it like to sing it?” he asked.
Your brain began to spiral from your shyness and desperation to seem confident.
“It’s very…it’s, I don’t know, it’s intimidating. My voice is rather small for Puccini, he likes bigger voices, so I was really nervous doing this role. My legs were shaking all the time onstage.”
It struck you how handsome Brian really was. His height and hair made him seem intimidating, but his smile and eyes were soft, nonthreatening. His hair framed his cheekbones in a way that made him beautiful, in his own way. And when he reached his hands out and stretched out his fingers, they moved as fluidly as a dancers. His speaking was gentle, almost quiet, but clear. Like a kindly fairy prince.
“I couldn’t tell!” he said. He added a smile that made you feel like you were hit by a train.
“It’s the dress! Really! Our costume people were geniuses” you say.
You began feeling self-conscious-didn’t want to appear weird or snobby or ugly to him.
“But you seemed so…so calm and confident. I’m a musician, but uhm…I’m not a classical musician, you could say. But my friend loves opera, so I decided to try it. So I know what it’s like to be nervous about how you do, you were incredible.” Brian adds, folding his arms.
“A musician! Do you play anything or sing!?” You say, it would be polite to steer the conversation towards him.
“Both…uhm…” he crawled in a little “I do sing, and there’s a lot I play, but the guitar is my favorite.”
Guitars, guitars, what can I say to him that would be interesting about guitars?
“I…I like guitars. It’s such a soothing sound.”
Brilliant, you idiot girl
“Do you play?” you add, hoping for a save.
He just said he played, crap, he’s gonna laugh at me.
“Er, yes, yes I do!” He smiled genuinely
“I play in a band, and I do lots but usually it’s electric guitar. Is there any instrument you play, Y/N?”
“I struggle with piano. I love the sound, but I don’t know how to really play it. Most of the time, I pluck out melodies. It’s partly how I learned this role.” you say. Your face got hot and you felt red as an apple.
“I could maybe…”
There were some clicks, the lights in the back were going out. People were clearing out of the lobby.
“Well, it’s closing…we have another performance tomorrow.” you add on.
“Any others?” Brian asked. He began to stroke his chin in fascination.
“No, just two… You could tell your friends about it.” You said,
“I will” Brian said.
“Same time, same place.” You remind him, feeling a tiny, shy grin on your face.
There was a little pause.
“Thank you for talking with me, Brian, it means a lot, since it’s my first big role” you blurt quickly. You didn’t want to get locked out of the theater by accident.
“I enjoyed tonight a lot, Y/N...”
“Goodbye, Brian.”
Goodbye Y/N.”
You turned around and walked out. You realized you were the last to turn in your costume, change, and leave the theater. You were happy with how you sang, but you felt sad. You wished you could see that kind, handsome man again...Maybe you never would.
(Bri)
Brian couldn’t go to sleep and kept tossing and turning in his bed.
Just one more performance…
He had to go. But he was… was frightened. You were so beautiful and caring that he didn’t know if he could survive a second meeting without exploding from nerves. You would think he was a creep and the thought of it made him nauseous. He couldn’t go.
At least, not alone.
There was rehearsal tomorrow. He could leave a little early and still arrive to the theater on time. There was enough time to talk one of them, at least, to go...
Deacy would shy away. He would be too worried and his worry would pile onto Brian’s worry until they were a mess.
Roger?
- rather be shot than go to an opera.
Besides, Roger would guess the real reason Brian wanted to go. The thought of Roger wolf-whistling at you during your aria made him want to crawl under a rock.
That left only one member of the band, then. The one that could help him.
And naturally, the opera fan among them.
#queen#queen fanfiction#brian may x reader#brian may x you#brain may#freddie mercury#brian may fluff#bohemian rhapsody#bohemian rhapsody movie#classic rock#reader fanficiton#brian may x female reader#queen fluff#all queue wanna do#brian may fic
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(Okay, I’m going to do this in probably 3 parts because it’s long)
So The Department sorta happened because I wanted to get back into a regular weekly-updating online fic because, frankly, two reasons:
1) I’m worn out/exhausted/a bit burned out from working on novels and very little of anything else for the last year and a half, and
2) I crave/need the instant validation of the comment section at AO3, which you don’t get when you write a book :/
So I called a break, put away my manuscripts for a couple months, and am just indulging in some fun writing for a little while. And since I wanted something new (sorry WIPs, your time will come again) this is what we ended up with.
I don’t remember exactly what made me go with the police department premise. The potential for assholery and rampant egomania, most likely? Well, you know I love that shit when it hides something slightly more noble underneath...and I think I wanted a big ensemble cast because I just adore the dynamics that can occur in groups of disparate personalities who have known each other for a long time. That way they interact when they know each others’ secrets and there’s that one person new to the group who isn’t in on any of the jokes? Good stuff right there.
I do remember that the first ideas for this story came to me during the Professor Jeff’s Super Science Show at the library (yeah your guess is as good as mine on that but it happens literally every time). But if I’m being honest, I’d say it probably had more to do with Benny Hill than anything. I have this bad habit of sitting on the couch with my laptop on my knees, headphones on, head back, inventing scenes in my head that go along with whatever music I’m listening to. I’ve got this one insane playlist full of goofy tunes my 7-year old has requested for staging Thomas The Tank Engine crash scenes (don’t ask) and on this particular night that’s what I was listening to because why not. On that playlist is a 30-minute loop of the Benny Hill Theme. And all I could see in my head was a foot chase on ice and snow between a female officer, an out of shape Chief of police, a giraffe-legged office assistant, and a probably methed-up wannabe criminal who didn’t actually do anything major but was running anyway because he was bored. It struck me funny and I toyed with the idea of sticking it into something I already had started, because I do love me some chaotic slapstick.
So the next day I’m driving the boys home from the Super Science Show and I’ve been playing around with it in my head again, and it’s taking shape into something that I know I’m going to have to work with. We pass the Pupuseria Virolena Salvadoran restaurant downtown, and I start laughing because I’m suddenly hearing David Tennant trying to say that in his Scottish accent.
On the spot I named him Hawk and made him Captain. And now we have one of our characters, and by the time we pull up in our driveway ten minutes later I’ve got stuff needing to be written down right now.
(the rest is under the cut for length)
Chapter 1 - Prologue - Your Boatload of Bad Decisions Has Left The Harbor
I was so anxious to get into the story but it needed an introduction, or else Greta being in this podunk town wouldn’t have any weight. So we’re introduced to our heroine, who isn’t so much a heroine as just a decent if slightly too self confident special division officer who had some bad luck. It’s not elaborated on yet in the story, though it’s heavily referenced multiple times that she disobeyed an order and made the decision to continue a high speed pursuit that had been called off by her superior officer, the above-mentioned Captain Hawkins, whom Greta has something of a relationship with (yeah they’re screwing, what of it). And in the wake of that decision, Greta’s partner is killed and she’s brought up on charges, suspended, ordered to counseling, and finally shipped off to a small town in Minnesota so she can keep working while her final fate is decided by an investigative committee back in LA.
The opening chase scene was written from things I learned when I was a kid and my dad did vehicle tweaks for the Fort Worth police department from his auto shop. The officers used to hang out drinking Cokes and telling stories while dad made (possibly illegal) modifications to their cars. I was there a lot, sitting under his work bench with my books and pencils, listening to everything and remembering it all. And I thought it was so damn cool. So here we are. What else was I gonna do with that information? Might as well put it to use if it’s gonna be taking up real estate in my head for all these years.
For the record, I really liked Greta’s partner Joe and hated to kill him - but we needed a catalyst, and the cheerful best friend who sings Italian arias during chases while joyfully blasting out windshields is always gonna be the loser in the goner lottery. For once the male hero dies to further the female lead’s storyline.
Heh, take that Marvel.
Anyway, sorry Joe. There will be more about you in later chapters, so...gone but not forgotten.
Chapter 2 - Minnewhatever
This part starts out with the last bit of backstory we need to proceed. Hawk sending Greta off to Minnesota, a place whose name she never does remember or say correctly. She doesn’t figure she’s actually going to be there long enough to bother learning it, but Hawk informs her that her exile is likely to last at least a year, and he gives her very little reassurance that she won’t be serving every minute of her sentence.
Greta’s feeling a little betrayed here. She and Hawk have been sort of a thing for a while, friends and colleagues and lovers, but he’s washing his hands of the entire situation and she’s left angry and a bit bereft. But she still figures he’ll do something to get her out of it, if she’s patient and behaves herself in the new place.
Fast forward to day one in Weemeetwa. While drowning her aggravation in a bottle of the good stuff, Greta meets her first new acquaintance and decides to just go with the cranky fuck-it attitude that she’s been harboring since the incident, gets shitfaced, and goes home with the guy. This might have been a dual-purpose shag; Greta’s still feeling betrayed and abandoned by Hawk, so it’s a screw-you that he’ll never find out about - but that doesn’t stop it from feeling good in a vengeful sort of way. Plus it’s cold and she’s alone and the guy - Andy, a tall sweet longhaired cutiepie with an Irish accent - is all too willing to buy her a drink and take her home for some cuddles.
In the morning Greta wakes up in a strange place full of groaning regret and ends up giving Andy a ride to the station. She doesn’t count on seeing him again, so there’s no breath wasted on goodbyes.
Chapter 3 - A Logging Truck, A Mountain, and A Blonde Walk Into A Bar
Now we meet most of the department. Creeley, a gruff roughhouser with a rude streak forty miles wide, Sarah, the only other female in the department and possibly the only person alive who can keep the boys under control, Kevin, the quiet dispatch agent with an impressive mountain impersonation skill, and finally (for the moment) Chief, the slightly too good-looking and highly put-upon boss of them all.
I knew I wanted Tom Hiddleston to play Chief Tommy Davis. This is Kong Skull Island-era Hiddleston crossed with The Night Manager, with a handful of extra pounds around the middle and a frustrated sigh that goes on forever. He’s meant to be an ex hockey player who was waylaid on his way to the major leagues, so he’s strong and sturdy, but an injury benched him years ago and a career in small-town law enforcement has put him a bit to pasture. Middle aged, somewhere between 40 and 45. He’s got some stuff in his past but he’s happy now, for the most part, just living his life watching over the town.
Jason Momoa is Bobby Creeley, for obvious reasons. I knew I wanted a rowdy, rude, loudmouthed team member that’s always crossing everyone, but who everyone knows will be there no matter what if anything goes down. He’s instantly Greta’s nemesis from the moment she walks in the door. Gigantic and shaggy with a permanently amused nature and a fear of literally nothing, he’s simultaneously everyone’s best friend and worst enemy.
Sarah Lancashire has been finding her way into a lot of my fics lately as side characters, so it’s no surprise she ended up here as Sarah Pearl. Steely, tough, and highly immune to the idiocy around her, Sarah is the worn out voice of common sense that the department is running perilously short on. She’s also my first and foremost girl crush, and I’ll admit right now that I wrote an AU ending almost immediately that involved Sarah and Greta ending up together. It would be natural to assume Sarah would fall into the default role of mom to the group, but there’s a whole lot of oh hell nope wrapped around that trope. She would set them all on fire if anyone would let her have some matches, but Chief made a rule against that a long damn time ago.
Dave Bautista has been hanging around the back door of my muse stable for the longest, just minding his own business and waiting his turn, but I never really had any place to stick him. Well Drax, your time has come baby. I chose him to play Kevin Saylor based on his GoTG scene in which he tries to convince the crew he’s invisible. And that’s Kevin, in a nutshell. Huge and intimidating but quiet and intensely matter-of-fact in manner, he’s in charge of dispatch and immediately inspires Greta’s hatred of using the radio.
My first (and really only) faceclaim for Greta Morley was Zoe Saldana, but I waffled briefly for a couple of weeks, trying to cater to a few readers who told me they wanted to imagine themselves in the role. I planned to stick with that, and I tried, I promise I did. But every time Greta opened her mouth I heard Zoe, and by the time she went on her less than fleet-footed pursuit of Wilson with the longsuffering Andy by her side, she was locked in. Greta’s harboring some serious regret and raw emotional wounds from her not too distant past, and some time out in the American Midwest should be a much needed recovery sabbatical. Should be. But isn’t gonna.
Speaking of Andy...Andrew Hozier-Byrne was and is the only person I ever considered for the role of Andy Burns. Too tall, too clumsy, too cute, too sweet, just a whole bunch of too everything - he was perfect for the role and I may or may not have written it exclusively for him. Okay yeah, I wrote it exclusively for him. Andy’s the local cryptid, nobody really knows a lot about him. He may or may not be a drug dealer. He may or may not be officially employed by the police department. He may or may not be Irish or hypoglycemic or a blackout drunk or as goofy as he seems. Nobody really knows, and to be honest nobody really cares, because if you need it done Andy can do it...if he can remember you asked him to do it.
So Greta has arrived, for better or for worse. Cree immediately starts in with the sexist remarks and butchering her name, a favor she returns by embarking on what will become a neverending trail of obliterated mis-renderings of the town’s name. Creeley and Kevin kick off another of many running gags by arguing over whether or not anyone knew she was coming, and before things can get too stupid, Chief makes his first appearance.
And now things start to get interesting.
To be continued at chapter 4, Randy Andy and The Chief of Weemeetwa
@whatevervivie
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mastermind; chapter 6
turns out some of you actually enjoy this fic!! i didn't think anyone really liked it so here's chapter 6! ngl i kinda forgot about this bc i was working on something else, but i'm here now :)
***
"You didn't call," Harry says when I stumble home a few hours later. I was trying to be quiet but clearly it didn't work because Harry hears me and quietly slips out of Julia's room.
"I didn't need you," I respond. Which was true, I didn't. Zayn got an Uber and dropped me off here before going home himself.
"Your friend drop you off? He was drunk, Aria, you could have—"
"Relax he called an Uber," I say, taking my shoes off and hanging my jacket on the coat rack. "Zayn's not stupid."
"That was Zayn?" he says, appalled. "Hold on, I knew the name was familiar and he looks familiar... He's not the one who Julia..."
He trails off awkwardly.
"Yeah, he went home with Julia after a party in freshman year," I say rubbing my eyes. I was going to say "fucked" but I thought it was too insensitive considering he's in love with Julia. I sigh heavily when I remember being so hopeful that Julia would like Zayn long enough for me gather the courage to talk to Harry. But the universe was cruel, and I was too late.
Harry nods and I'm left wondering if he ever thinks about that night. Thinks about whether he saw Julia at the party they were both at, or thinks about how another guy went home with his future girlfriend, or thinks about the girl he made out with blindfolded. He obviously doesn't know it's me. But he never gave any indication on whether or not he even remembered kissing me.
Well, of course he wouldn't. We were acquainted through Julia, his girlfriend, he's not allowed to talk about those things. Just like how Julia didn't talk about how good Zayn was in front of Harry.
Harry remains silent so I start walking towards my room.
"I'm sorry," he says just as I pass him. "I shouldn't have interrupted you... o-or talked to you the way I did."
"Good," I deadpan. "You should be."
This makes his softened expression fall, and confusion spread.
"Aria, I was just looking out for you--"
"Harry, are you really going to defend your actions after you apologized for behaving that way? And besides, I don't need you to look out for me."
"Everyone needs someone to look out for them," he says quietly.
"Maybe," I answer, not trying to get deep or philosophical with him right now, "but you embarrassed me in front of Zayn and made me feel like a child."
"I thought he was—!"
"Whatever you thought was wrong," I counter, frustrated. "I'm an adult, I can take care of myself. Me and you, we're friends, Harry. That's all we are. Save this type of reaction for your girlfriend."
His eyebrows pinch and I am mortified by what I say.
"Goodnight," I squeak and all but run to my room, nearly slamming the door.
Could you not have made it anymore obvious, Aria?!
What the fuck was wrong with me?
---
The next day I wake up around noon. Normally I'd spend this day of relaxation watching something with Julia, but since Harry is here, I don't want to. I slip into the bathroom unnoticed and take a shower. I hope that if it's long enough Harry will realize that I'm awake and leave.
I dry off in the bathroom and change into fresh clothes before wrapping a towel around my hair. Upon leaving the bathroom, I find out Harry did not take the hint and he was still here.
He's sitting on the couch with his arm around Julia, fixated on the television in front of him. He's eyes snap to mine when he sees me exit the bathroom and he gets up and gathers his things. Julia watches him pack his things with a sad frown on her face.
"Must you leave so early? We're almost done season six," she says with puppy eyes. Seriously, how does she not get tired of always sitting on the same couch watching the same shows with him?
"Sorry, love, but I have to see my father," he kisses her forehead. He turns around and pins me with his gaze just before I can escape to my room. "Aria? Can you walk me out?"
I want to roll my eyes at him. He's closer to the door! Julia looks between us curiously.
"It's only a few steps, Harry, I'm sure you'll manage to find the door," I say, opening my door.
"Aria, please."
I sigh and look at Julia first. She's watching me questioningly as if to say, what's up with him? I give her a look back that says, I'll explain later.
Only then did I look at Harry's pleading expression and walk over to the door with him. I hand him his jacket and he says quietly, "I just want to make sure everything is okay between us."
The bitter and petty part of me wants to respond with, There is no 'us'. But I shut her up because last night's response kept me up.
"I really am sorry about how I acted," he continues with pleading eyes. "You're right. You're an adult and I shouldn't tell you what to do. Just please forgive me, I don't want you to go back to ignoring me. I promise I won't do it again."
My heart clenches at his words. He really likes being my friend?
"Of course, Harry, it's okay," I say softly. He looks relieved but his smile is still a little tense. To ease the mood, I say, "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily. I'll remain an annoying thorn at your side."
He chuckles.
"Are you sure I'm not the thorn?" he says.
"You are, actually, I was just trying to be nice. But thanks for realizing what you truly are," I chirp. I open the door for him and he steps out waving at me.
I'm almost about to shut it when Julia yells, "Bye, Harry!"
Harry quickly comes back, says goodbye to her too, then leaves.
"So what was that all about?" Julia sits up immediately after I lock the door.
I relay what happened last night at the party to her, deciding to keep out the conversation we had when I arrived.
"So he just wanted to make sure we were cool, and I told him we are."
Julia nods, "That's good."
I go to the kitchen to grab something to eat when she says, "Hey, you know what we should do? We should go shopping!"
---
Since Julia and I are at the mall, I make her do her Christmas shopping. She already knew what to get her mom--a Valentino bag--but I force her to look for something for her father too. It would make him happy that she thought about him. Julia whines and complains, but eventually we settle on a flask set and a fancy Montblanc pen for him. I leave her to look for a gift for Harry while I go to shop for my family.
In the cheaper side of the mall, I shop for my parents and my little brother. I go inside Barnes & Noble and buy a bunch of cute homey things I know my mom likes. My dad loves board games so I pick one up for him along with a puzzle. I get two books for my brother because I wish he read more, but I also sneak in a video game from another shop, because I want him to like his gift. My bags are getting heavy, but I'd really rather not come back another day since the mall will only get busier closer to Christmas, so I look for gifts for my friends too. Niall and Louis are easy, they'll like anything. I get a fancy jewelry box for Julia with fancy scented candles and fancy bath bombs that she likes.
I leave Harry last. This will be the first time I get him a gift from myself and I want to make it special since he bought that leather sketchbook for me but it was hard because I'd already gone over my budget. So, I get him a Gordon Ramsay cookbook, a trivia game, and chocolates. It's not until I go to Starbucks where Julia and I were supposed to meet, that I see a set of six reusable cups with cute sayings like "Live in the Wow" or "Be About Love". This was perfect. Smiling, I purchase it and add it to my bags.
I sit at a table with my bags around me and wait for Julia to show. She arrives, with way less bags because she was only shopping for three people. And her gifts were small but expensive. She joins me at the table and I ask her what she got for Harry.
"Socks," she says, pulling out a pair Christmas socks. I look at her, somewhat annoyed.
"That's it?!"
"And chocolate!" she says quickly, pulling out a Lindt chocolate bar.
"Julia!" I chastise.
"What?"
"He's your boyfriend! You can't get him socks and chocolate!"
"I know," she whines, "but I looked and looked and I didn't know what else to get him!"
I sigh heavily and pin Julia with a glare.
"Let's go," I huff finally, "I'll help you find something for him but you're carrying half my bags."
She grabs my bags with great eager and sets out of Starbucks.
---
"Oh my God, you know what we should do now?" Julia says once we're done shopping. I'm about to roll my eyes because I can't imagine doing anything else except lying down or eating. "We should go to that Italian restaurant! The one I said I'd take you to for getting Harry a gift!"
That grabs my attention.
"Okay but where will we put our bags? We can't take them with us there's too many," I say.
"It's okay, I'll call Liam. He can take them to our place and drop us off, he wouldn't mind," she assures and pulls out her phone, searching for his number. "Hey, Liam? Yeah, yeah everything's okay! I was just wondering if you're busy right now? No? Well it's just that Aria and I have been shopping all day and we have so many bags, but we're really hungry and want to go for dinner, and--" she pauses for a moment. "Thank you so so so much! Okay... yeah... great, see you soon!"
She ends the call and smirks at me.
"I thought he was your father's personal assistant not yours," I comment.
"He is, but he told me that if I ever need anything to not hesitate to call him. He's really nice. I'm gonna tell my father. Hopefully Liam can get a raise."
---
Liam drops us off at the restaurant and then drives away with Julia's key to take our bags home. I watch him driving away and wonder if this is what it's like to be rich. Huh.
My mood is instantly brightened when our server places our food in front of us. Julia whips out her phone to take a Boomerang of our pizzas, I stick my tongue out when the camera reaches me. She puts that on her Instragram story and I guess she was really feeling the love for me because she asks to take a proper photo. She pushes her chair to sit beside me and asks our server to take a photo.
I shrug one shoulder and smile sweetly at the camera, while Julia rests her arm at the back of my chair and leans her head closer to mine.
"Adorable, fucking adorable," Julia says after she takes her phone back, typing away. I get a notification that Julia tagged me in a photo, but ignore it for now. I have more important things to focus on, like my pizza which I take a slice out of before shoving it into my mouth. Julia looks up right then and howls with laughter, snapping another photo.
"Julia, no!" I try to say but my mouth is full.
"You look so funny!"
"Don't post that one, okay?"
She promises she won't and we eat the rest of our dinner laughing and talking about random things.
---
"Hey," I say to Julia when the episode of Friends that we were watching ends.
"Hmm," she replies, looking up from her phone.
"I kinda... I kinda wanna try makeup," I hesitate. I'd seen a lot of girls with perfect makeup on their face and it made me want to give it a go. And today, at the mall I went inside Sephora and wanted to buy everything. Sephora was just a fancier, prettier art store.
"Oh my God!" Julia hollers. "Come, I'll teach you everything."
She drags me into her room and sits me in front of her vanity. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the products she throws at me, but I get the basics: primer, foundation, concealer, setting powder, brows, mascara. She says that the primer and foundation I use are the most important part, and then hands me some good ones to keep.
"You're about my colour," she says, dabbing some on my face to check. "You're a little darker, that's okay you can use bronzer to even it out."
Bronzer, blush, and highlighter: they were good but not always necessary, she says. She applies eyeshadow to my eyelids and then swipes a thin line of eyeliner over it. I curl my own lashes and apply mascara. My eyes instantly stand out so much more.
"Wow, this colour really enhances your eyes," Julia says. "I wouldn't even wear foundation if I was you, you have nice skin. Do your eyes, though, they make you look like a bad bitch."
I smirk and we start experimenting with lipstick, giggling and dabbing some on each other's faces.
"Okay, now I have to show you how to wash it off," Julia says half an hour later.
"What, you mean I can't just use water and soap?" I ask feeling stupid.
"No, silly, not all soap will wash off makeup. You'll be scrubbing at your skin harshly then breaking out." We go to the bathroom where she pulls out her makeup remover, gently wiping the makeup away from my face. "There, all clean."
"Thanks," I smile.
"Here, I'll give you the products I don't use that you can experiment with. I'll give you some brushes too, and I'll show you how to clean them."
Putting on makeup sounds like it's includes a lot of cleaning that I didn't anticipate. I take the items she gives and watch how she washes brushes and sets them upright to dry. I've never had to deal with germs when it came to art supplies, but it makes sense why you have to with makeup supplies.
I call it a night after I put away the makeup. Getting in bed, I start scrolling through my phone. I open my Instragram notifications and see the cute picture Julia posted of us with the caption: My ride or die, love you @aria_collins.
Smiling at my phone, I double tap the picture. I comment, love you too bitch <3 before scrolling through the other comments. Some are from her other friends, that I don't know that well, and one is from her mom. My heart jolts when I see Harry commented on it too.
harrystyles: Cute
It was just one word.
Cute.
But it made butterflies erupt inside me. I shake my head at myself.
He was talking about his girlfriend, stupid.
Nonetheless, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
---
The sound of my door opening wakes me up. I was never a heavy sleeper like Julia.
"Aria?" Julia whispers in the dark. I hum back in response. I'm awake now, might as well see what's up. "You're awake?" she says hopefully. I check the time and see I've only been asleep for half an hour.
"Yeah, what's up?" I turn fully towards Julia who looks wide awake, she hasn't even changed into her pyjamas yet.
"I really, really want to take a bath but Harry won't stop texting me," she says coming to lay down on my bed beside me.
"So tell him to shut up," I deadpan, letting my eyes shut in fatigue.
"I can't... he's like talking about serious things. And it's stressing me out and we had such a long day, I just want to take a bath and sleep. Can you just talk to him for a bit? It's way past his bedtime, I'm sure he'll fall asleep soon."
I want to ask her why she doesn't think I want to sleep, and why it makes sense to wake me up so I can talk to her boyfriend while she relaxes.
I grab her phone to see what he's even saying. Maybe I can tell her how to respond to end the conversation. But Julia takes this as me giving my consent and kisses my forehead before running out. I roll my eye before blinking to focus on the texts but they don't make sense so I scroll up to about half an hour ago, where he seems to be asking her a lot about her day. I skip through the parts where they talk about shopping and the restaurant we went to until I get to the serious part.
You're not busy are you? he wrote.
no, what's up? Julia responded.
I'm just a bit frustrated.
oh no baby, what's wrong?
So you know how I went to see my father today? It didn't really end well...
what happened?
He has a girlfriend
He wanted me to meet her because apparently they're "serious"
they've only been dating for four months
Not to mention, I'm JUST finding out? Four months later?
oh shit
Sorry, I know I'm just dumping all this on you. I tried to forget about it but it's been a few hours and I'm still kind of mad, to be honest.
Babe?
I curse Julia for leaving him like this. Stumbling out of bed, I hurriedly knock on bathroom door.
"Julia!" I call.
"What?" she responds.
"This is serious stuff!"
"I know, that's why I was so freaked out."
"I can't pretend to be you! That's-thats... wrong."
"Well I can't get out now, I just applied this mask, it needs at least thirty more minutes to set! Fuck."
"Why would you leave him like this! He clearly needs someone to talk to, how can you even think about relaxing and taking a bath?"
"I'm sorry! But I freaked out and panicked so I came to you!"
"Well now he's panicking."
"I'm sorry, Aria, please don't yell at me, I don't know what to do in situations like this. He's never told me anything about his father before!"
I sigh deeply. That makes it worse!
"I'll talk to him, but you have to get out as soon as you can!"
"I will."
I go back to my room and sit on my bed. Harry hasn't sent anymore texts after that last one. I try to come up with something quick to excuse her absence.
hey sorry, aria nearly burnt the kitchen down i had to help her
I send the text with a terrible feeling growing in my chest.
Oh okay, that's ok. I thought you fell asleep.
I shake my head and glare at Julia through the wall for making me do this. I don't want to pretend to be Julia like this to Harry. I know I told Julia a lot of what to say or do in this relationship, but those were things I hoped she'd learn from.
Fuck that, right now Harry needs someone to talk to, and the he thinks the person he turned to abandoned him.
no, i wouldn't fall asleep on you, I continue.
why are you mad that your father has a girlfriend?
I dont know... I guess I'm just mad that he would even consider marrying someone else after my mother
My heart breaks a little for him.
but it's been a few years since your mother died
don't you think your father deserves to move on?
I guess. five years just seemed a little too soon
you can't decide how much time someone else needs to mourn and move on. that's up to them
you're right, but that doesn't mean he should have told me this late
Doesn't he care at all what I think?
he probably knew you wouldn't take it well. maybe that's why he waited until your exams were over
You're making it sound like he cares for me. he doesn't.
he does, harry. he's your father. of course he cares for you.
My father isn't like yours, Julia. He doesn't just call me up out of the blue and shower me with gifts to show his love. The only interaction i've had with him in months was the money he's been depositing in my account.
My heart aches for him. His father doesn't talk to him? I never knew that. Harry is always so positive and keen on keeping everyone happy that I never once thought he might have issues like this.
my father was the same. he didn't talk to me, only sent me money for months.
do you want to know what changed?
what
one day he wanted to have dinner with me and update me on his life, and ask about mine
after that, i visited him regularly even though i didn't really want to
and now we're actually getting somewhere in our relationship
He doesn't respond for a few minutes.
does that situation sound a little familiar?
I send the text hoping to get a text back from him. I dread that I may have overstepped and said too much.
You're right.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to undermine anything you're going through
it's alright, you didn't :)
i just don't want you to look at this negatively. i know you don't like him, or the fact that he's getting married
but you have to try to make the best out of it, right?
When did you get so wise?
I have the smartest girlfriend in the world
I nearly choke on my spit. I'm an awful, awful person. I hate this, I hate doing this.
Before I can type out another response, he says:
Thank you for letting me talk to you. I really needed to hear this
Sorry if I kept you up, love
You should go sleep now :)
it's okay, you didnt :)
text me if you ever need to talk again
I love you.
I stand up. Marching to the bathroom, I'm about to pound on the door when Julia opens it.
"There," I fume and shove her phone at her. "Now you need to get your shit together, and be a better girlfriend," I say. Julia nods, tears welling up in her eyes. "Get some sleep, I'm going back to bed."
***
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Mamma Mia
Mamma Mia Au for @ac-ars. Or how many song references can I make. Hint: Too many. I regret nothing.
1. Does Your Mother Know?
The reunion of Stella and Lola was probably heard by all of Sicily. “Lola, I can’t believe you’re finally here, there’s so much I have to tell you.” Stella gushed as she ran over the small beach pier. “I missed you too, chiquitita.” Lola grinned down at her. While Stella was excited seeing her best friend since their last summer in Argentina, she didn’t let that hated nickname mention slide, slapping her upper arm lightly as they hugged.
Lola looked at the reddening spot. “I used almost a full bottle of sun screen and you do this? I can’t look like a lobster on your wedding day!” Maybe a beach dress in a lighter colour would have done the trick too.
“And now the real reason I came here,” Lola had taken a hold of her hand, inspecting Stella’s engagement ring on her left finger. “It’s even prettier up close. And a ruby, no less. Andrés sure did his homework.” Lola said impressed. She still hadn’t let go of her hand, going on and on about the stone and cut of the ring.
“It looks so expensive. Really, I look at it and think money, money, money.” Stella laughed at that. “I would be appalled otherwise.” She had actually had yelled a chorus of several yes’ at Andrés before he even had the chance to show her the ring, or finish his speech, for that matter.
“How’s Argentina?” Stella asked, as she and Lola walked up to the house she was living with her mom. “Same old, same old,” Lola told her. “That’s why I’m here. It’s so boring back home since Ofelia and Luis moved out. I need someone I can annoy.”
“I’m the bride. I’m off limits.” Stella said immediately. “Yeah, yeah,” Lola waved her hand dismissively.
“What about you? Any other life changing events?”
Stella couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m inviting my dad to the wedding.” The words just had bursted out of her. “You what?” Lola asked shocked, “also, your mother told you? I always thought she didn’t know herself.”
To be fair, Luna Valente was all over the place, far away from organized, so it could be possible.
Stella’s excitement wavered, guilt slowly making it to the surface. “Well,” she began, finding the palm tree on their right way more interesting now. “Oh my god, what did you do?” Lola already asked.
“I found her diary while cleaning out the attic and there are actually three candidates,” Stella admitted. “Three?” Lola’s eyes were this close to falling out.
She quickly recovered though. “Better be a wide isle,” she said with a diabolical smile, earning herself another arm slap from Stella
2. I Have a Dream
"You're crazy," Lola announced, as Stella put a post stamp on the third, and last, sealed envelope.
“I know this is your dream, but it’s insane, and coming from me, that’s saying something.” Lola still wasn’t sold on the whole invite your potential dads to your wedding.
"As if randomly showing up in their front lawn would be a better idea," Stella muttered. This was her last resort. She wanted the fairytale wedding, so her father had to walk her down the isle. No ifs, ands, or buts!
"You thought about that, didn't you?" Lola realised, leaning back in the chair. "Maybe," Stella said with a little shrug, putting the envelopes into her bag.
Lola sighing heavily. "What if they don't show up?" she asked, truly concerned. The Argentinian doubted her friend would ever recover from that. "They will. I made it look like Mom wrote the letters," Stella said, having no doubt all three men would show up. It had been actually too easy, she and her mother shared the same messy handwriting, it had driven her school teachers crazy.
"Okay, what if they all show up?" Lola came up with another scenario, "do you think you'll just know when you see him? This can end really bad!”
"I'm going to send these letters," Stella hissed quite aggressively. Lola sighed in defeat, knowing it would be useless trying to change her mind.
“Google them before at least. One could be serial killer.”
Despite rolling her eyes, Stella did exactly that. “I knew that name seemed familiar,” Lola yelled when candidate number one turned out to be 1/3 of the Argentinian pop sensation Rollerband.
Simón had clearly been the most interesting one. Her mother had described him as her best friend during the first pages, then mused if she had feelings for him about 200 pages in, only to degrade him as a friend at the end again.
"Didn't you take singing lessons until you were like twelve?" Lola questioned. Stella was at loss for words. She had indeed taken a few lessons at her primary school, the teacher impressed with her voice.
It couldn’t be that easy, right? That the truth would had been right before her nose all these years.
“Hm, and he was already married with a kid when you were born. Would explain why your Mom fled to Sicily with you.” Lola had opened Wikipedia on her own phone.
Stella grimaced. She didn’t like the thought of having siblings.
“Okay, next,” Lola picked up another letter, eyes narrowing at the long name. “Didn’t google just suggest him too?”
“Go back,” Stella urged. “It did. Ah, he directed a music video for Rollerband. Maybe your mom was there on set,” Lola was at it with the theories again. “What is Villalobos for a surname though?” her friend wondered. “Says you, Perida!” Stella’s tone might have been a bit too venomous. “You’ll be Mrs Arias soon anyway,” Lola shrugged.
The older girl eyed the third letter then. “That’s not a Spanish name,” was the first thing Lola noticed.
Her mother had described Matteo Balsano as the epitome of a summer fling, but as soon as she had been in Buenos Aires again the calls and texts became less and less. The way she had written it, Luna had put an end to their very fresh relationship.
They didn’t find much about him, just that he was diplomat, who lived in Rome.
“Rome?” Stella’s felt her anger rise. “I can’t believe this. If this is the reason Mom didn’t let me go on the Rome trip in my last year of school…” She was too angry to finish her sentence. "I can't believe she lied to me," Stella suddenly continued. "Well, I can," Lola said unhelpfully. “Wouldn’t have been fun if you ran into him on accident.”
“Maybe he went on holiday or visited extended family in Sicily.” Lola then thought aloud, “and that’s why you life here. Mom never understood why your mother settled on this Italian island.” Growing up, Stella hadn’t really paid any mind it. Sure, it was sometimes annoying when she mixed up the languages, or worse, couldn’t remember a word in the language she currently spoke.
After a bit of digging, Stella had managed to find a photo on his Facebook page, showing it to Lola. “Okay, maybe, I’m hallucinating, but you do look alike. Like really, really alike.”
Her friend was right. Honestly, the other two letters were pretty much useless now.
--
3. I do
Stella removed her earbuds, turning around once again, making sure she wasn't being followed. She'd taken the ferry all to Naples, as mail on mainland was distributed much faster.
The matter was urgent.
She wanted her father to be present when she said ‘I do’, wanted to have the father daughter dance everyone would sob at.
Her big day was less than a month away, she needed the envelope to reach its addressee as soon as possible.
After Stella had handed the letter over at the postal office, she still had 2 hours until the ferry would sail back to Palermo. A grin appeared on her face as she grabbed a brochure about Naples.
It's been years since she had been on mainland.
4. SOS
It had been a normal morning for Matteo until he had collected his post. A letter from Sicily had caught his attention. He inspected the letter. The sender was nowhere to be found. Matteo reluctantly opened the letter.
His heart had already jumped at the messy handwriting. Luna had written him a letter. An invitation to be precise. To her daughter’s wedding.
Before he knew it, Matteo had booked a flight to Palermo.
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Always you- The feeling (3/?)
Leo woke early, showered and got himself ready for the day. He had purchased a new street bike upon leaving for Italy, it had been delivered that morning and he couldn't wait to pick her up with it. His heart raced at the thought of her on the back, holding onto him tightly. It was an odd feeling to him, he never really viewed most women as anything more then someone to have a little fun with, but never settle down. With an extra spring in his step he walked to the next door down and knocked. Percy answered already dressed, laptop open at the table in his room.
"Working on vacation are we percy?" Leo grinned. "Some of us actually work Rhys." Percy sat pack down sipping his espresso. Leo flopped down in the seat across from him, not able to contain the shit eating grin spead across his face. Percy looked up, and chuckled "seeing miss Aria again are we?" He had never seen Leo so giddy over a girl, it was quite amusing. "Yes, taking her cliff jumping today, she doesn't know it yet." He broke off a piece of the muffin sitting in front of him. Percy arched his brow "cliff jumping huh?" "Yeah, she wanted an adventure. I'm going to give her an adventure." Percy about spit his espresso out trying to stifle his laugh "This poor girl has no idea how much of an adventure shes actually in for with you." Leo chuckled Standing up and clapsed Percy on the back. "I'll catch you later. Don't work to hard perc."
Leo pulled up to the front of her small hotel, Aria was already standing out front waiting for him. "Where did you get that?" She ran up, eyes wide. Leo grinned, "Just came this morning, I had it sent here. You like it?" He looked at her hopeful. She bit her bottom lip jesus with that lip again his thought screaming at him to take it in between his teeth, pulling ever so gently. "Yeah, its nice. Is that....Is that what we're taking today?" She looked a little nervous. "Yes. Have you ever been on one before?" He questioned . She shook her head no. A gleam of mischief flashed before his eyes.
"Do you trust me?" She looked at him unsure "Come on, hold me tight I'll take care of you." He held the helmet out to her. She hesitated, glancing down at the helmet, and then him. She took the helmet and climbed on the back. Leo kicked the bike to life and off they went. He could feel her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her head pressed up against his back. A surge of warmth flood his body, it felt right. They flew through the Italian country side, the wind blowing against them, but the view was amazing.
Finally they pull up to a small coastal town, blue water for miles. "You ok?" He asked as she climbed off the bike. "Scared shitless at first but what a rush." She grinned. "Wow, where are we?" Her eyes went wide. "Grotto della poesia." He told her. A bit further up they seen a few people standing at the edge of a cliff and jump off. "Are they... Cliff jumping?" She started to walk forward curiously. "Yep, and that's what were doing too." He walked after. "We're what?" She squeaked. "Yep. You said you wanted adventure. This is an adventure. Now come on." he grabbed her hand taking her over to the grotto.
He led her down the man made steps carved into the side and on to the white sand beach. He took his shirt off, exposing his muscular chest and slipped down to his swim trunks. He watched as Arias eyes swept his body. A light red tinge spead across her cheeks she so damn cute when shes flustered he thought to himself. Aria followed suit revealing her beautiful curvy body in her sexy pilkadot bikini. She was thin, but thick in all the right place. He felt his member twitch in his shorts at the sight. "You ready?" He asked holding out his hand. "No, but something tells me you wont let up, so why not." She took his hand and they walked to the top of the grotto. After a few minutes it was their turn to jump.
"Will you hold my hand while I jump?" She turned to him, her eyes pelading. "Of course. Now on my three we jump." They walked to the ledge "One... two... three!" They lept off the side plummeting down to the blue shimmering water. They crashed into the water, Leo swam back to the surface quickly searching for Aria who popped up a few seconds later. She was laughing as she floated in the crystalclear water, it was like music to his ears. He had no idea what this feeling was, but he knew he wanted to hear more of her laugh. "That was amazing." She Swam over to him wrapping her arms around him. They laughed together for a minute before locking eyes, leo searched for any sign of doubt, when he found none he leaned in. Lips inches from each other before another jumper landed next to them, splashing them spoiling the moment.
They got out of the water, laying on the beach for a while. His eyes trained on her. Her long chestunt hair wet cascading the side if her neck and shoulder. The way the specks of water glistened in the sun against her sun kissed body,She was breathtaking. He had never met anyone like her, sure everyone he had ever been with knew his title. They were either noble, or acquainted with nobility. The commoners he bedded, he never formed any kind of bond with. But Aria, she was different, she was something special. He never told her he was a prince, he also was almost afraid to make a move in fear she would run.
"So, as beautiful as it is here. And as much as I love laying on the beach. I did not eat breakfast and I am starving." She sat up. "Oh. Right, sorry about that. There are some places in town we can grab a bite. Lets get going." They dressed and went back to the bike. A short ride layer they found a small bistro nestled into the small town. Once they walked in the amazing smells smacked them in the face. A little old lady walked up to them and said something in Italian. Leo answered back in perfect Italian and they were taken to a table. A plate of warm breadsticks were placed on the table with a melted butter dish. "So you know Italian?" She ripped a piece of bread off "how many other languages do you know?" "Um many, I am not sure how many there are to be honest."
"Wow, that's impressive. And what is it you do for a living Mr Rhys? That is when you're not jet setting across Europe. " she continued to nibbled on her breadstick. "Well, my family is in um, politics. I am learning the business." He half lied. "Interesting, and what type of politics?" She questioned. She is actually interested in this? "Um governing, foreign policy." He half lied again. He was trying hard to be anyone but crown Prince Leo. He never thought he would be so happy to see the waitress in his life. They ordered and then it was back to questions.
"So Aria, what is it you do?" He wondered. "Me? Well I am a student at Penn state." She answered twirling the pasta on her fork. "Fantastic, what is your major?" He leaned in, genuinely invested in learning more about her. "English, I want to be and elementary school teacher. " she answered. "That is really great, Aria." Leo reached his hand across the table squeezing hers. "I think you will make a wonderful teacher. "
After their meal they hopped back on Leo's bike. she had plans with Ellie that night and she would kill her if she stood her up. He couldn't stop the permanent grin that was plastered on his face as she held onto his waist tight. He had taken many women for a ride on the many bikes he owned, but something about her holding onto him felt different, it felt good, it felt right. As they pulled up in front of the hotel Aria hopped off. "Thank you Leo, for an amazing day." She handed him the helmet. "It was my pleasure." He grinned taking the helmet from her. "Well, I better get ready." She hesitated, Leo wanted to kiss her, after the grotto he restrained himself. She leaned in giving him a hug and turned to walk away. He hadn't made plans to see her again, but he wasn't ready to say good bye "where are you going tonight?" He blurted out, he needed to say something, anything to see her again. A smile formed across her face "Dogana. Bye Leo." She waved as she walked down the alley and dissapeared. Leo kicked his bike to life and took off, he would definitely be going to the club tonight. He just needed to convince Percy to join him.
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( @kcimizu ) WARWICK - CARO MIO
When he’s not training, having orders barked at him, and whatever else he had to do on base, he was busying himself with music and a good smoke on one of the outside balconies of the facility. Earbuds in with his usual heavy metal blasting, distracting him from everything going on outside while he held up his hand, shielding the flame so he can light his cigarette.
He leaned back against the wall, lips and teeth holding onto the cigarette. The smoke flared out his nose with each exhale he did. Warwick fished for his phone in his pocket after hearing it buzz once. The name read ‘ Aria ’ — typical. It went right back into his pocket so he can enjoy his music and smoke before going in again.
But … The Devil themselves had shown up at his exact location, screaming out excitedly in loud Italian that made him roll his eyes and unplug one of the buds from his ear, the other hand grabbing the cigarette and holding it between two fingers over the edge.
“ Si? What can I do for you? ” He hummed, tilting his head forward and looked at them with a pointed look. Warwick was about 99.99% done right now.
Aria had done most of their tasks for the day - physical training, bothering commander Reyes, maintenance, bothering Mccree, sending their daily report to CORE, bothering Atticus - it was only natural that while wandering the base they would decide to bother Warwick after seeing him duck out onto one of the balconies. They grin as they shoot him a quick text, a photo of themselves throwing a peace sign with Warwick looking like a cryptid in the background as he was pulling out a cigarette.
They watch as he pulls out his phone and immediately shoves it back into his pocket. How rude! But very predictable. He must not want to be bothered during his alone time. Listening to his music and having a good smoke. So, naturally, Aria barges out of there with a happy ‘ CARO MIO ! ’ to which Warwick - sweet, sweet, handsome, good-looking Warwick - just stares at them and asks what he can do for them. Oh! The things he can do!
“ Humor me! ” Aria exclaims as they point down to his... pocket! “ Look at your phone! I sent you a text! I assume you didn’t see it because you didn’t respond and I saw you just ignore it. ”
#kcimizu#* a hole in my chest is the only evidence that you had once breathed | WARWICK.#* v: blackwatch#THE DEVIL#WOWWW#* refueling | queue.
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Blog No. 9
Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini’s Aria (Analysis)
Gioachino Antonio Rossini
(February 29, 1792—November 13, 1868)
Gioachino Rossini (1792–1868) was an Italian composer who wrote 39 operas as well as sacred music, chamber music, songs, and some instrumental and piano pieces.
Life and Music
Having produced a whirlwind series of 38 operas, following the premiere of William Tell in August 1829, and with close on 40 years of life still remaining, he laid down his operatic pen for ever. Perhaps Rossini had finally had enough, as he was once reputed to have remarked: "How wonderful opera would be if there were no singers!"
Rossini was born in Pesaro in 1793, the son of a town trumpeter-cum-inspector of slaughterhouses, ‘Guiseppe Rossini’ whose questionable political sympathies once resulted in a short jail sentence. The family was otherwise constantly on the move, Rossini's mother appearing as a principal singer in a series of comic opera productions, while the budding young composer learned his craft, based in Bologna.
He composed his first opera, Demetrio e Polibio, while still a student at the Liceo Musicale in Bologna, where his love of Mozart led to his being nicknamed, "the German". Such was its success that it led to a series of operatic ventures which initially culminated in the Barber of Seville. When Donizetti heard that Rossini had composed it in a matter of just three weeks, he remarked sardonically: "Rossini always was a lazy fellow."
Rossini's stage output culminated in the premiere of William Tell in Paris in 1829, after which he virtually stopped composing, save for a few songs, piano pieces and two famous large-scale choral works - the Stabat Mater and the Petite Messe Solennelle .
Rossini died at his villa in Passy on 13 November 1868 following a short illness. Having initially been buried in Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris, his remains were subsequently moved to Santa Croce in Florence in 1887.
Did you know?
For Rossini's 70th birthday celebrations in 1862, a number of his friends clubbed together in order to have a statue built in his honour. His reaction was typically boisterous: "Why not give the money to me and I'll stand on the pedestal myself!"
Figaro's “Largo Al Factotum,” From 'The Barber of Seville'
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"The Barber of Seville" (Italian: Il barbiere di Siviglia) is a comedic opera by Giachino Rossini. It's based on the first play of of "Le Barbier de Seville," the three-part story of Figaro written by French playwright Pierre Beaumarchais.
"Largo al Factorum," Figaro's opening aria in the opera's first act, is considered one of the most challenging operas for a baritone to perform, due to its brisk time signature and convoluted rhyme structure.
Modern audiences may recognize "Largo al factotum" as a staple of the "Looney Tunes" cartoons.
History of 'The Barber of Seville'
The opera premiered at the Teatro Argentina in Rome in 1816. Now considered a masterpiece of musical comedy, "The Barber of Seville" had a difficult first performance, but quickly grew in popularity.
Figaro's Opening Aria 'Largo al Factorum'
In the first act, the audience meets the flamboyant Figaro who introduces himself as the city's top quality factotum, or handyman. Figaro is quite assured of his abilities and describes his popularity and his many talents. He's a jack of all trades. He loves his life, saying that and a more noble life cannot be found.
Italian Lyrics
Largo al factotum della citta.
Presto a bottega che l'alba e gia.
Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere
per un barbiere di qualita!
Ah, bravo Figaro!
Bravo, bravissimo!
Fortunatissimo per verita!
Pronto a far tutto,
la notte e il giorno
sempre d'intorno in giro sta.
Miglior cuccagna per un barbiere,
vita piu nobile, no, non si da.
Rasori e pettini
lancette e forbici,
al mio comando
tutto qui sta.
V'e la risorsa,
poi, de mestiere
colla donnetta... col cavaliere...
Tutti mi chiedono, tutti mi vogliono,
donne, ragazzi, vecchi, fanciulle:
Qua la parruca... Presto la barba...
Qua la sanguigna...
Presto il biglietto...
Qua la parruca, presto la barba,
Presto il biglietto, ehi!
Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, ecc.
Ahime, che furia!
Ahime, che folla!
Uno alla volta, per carita!
Figaro! Son qua.
Ehi, Figaro! Son qua.
Figaro qua, Figaro la,
Figaro su, Figaro giu,
Pronto prontissimo son come il fumine:
sono il factotum della citta.
Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo;
a te fortuna non manchera.
English Translation
Handyman of the city.
Early in the workshop I arrive at dawn.
Ah, what a life, what a pleasure
For a barber of quality!
Ah, bravo Figaro!
Bravo, very good!
I am the luckiest, it's the truth!
Ready for anything,
night and day
I'm always on the move.
Cushier fate for a barber,
A more noble life cannot be found.
Razors and combs
Lancets and scissors,
at my command
everything is here.
Here are the extra tools
then, for business
With the ladies... with the gentlemen...
Everyone asks me, everyone wants me,
women, children, old people, young ones:
Here are the wigs... A quick shave of the beard...
Here are the leeches for bleeding...
The note...
Here are the wigs, a quick shave soon,
The note, hey!
Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, Etc..
Alas, what frenzy!
Alas, what a crowd!
One at a time, for goodness sake!
Figaro! I'm here.
Hey, Figaro! I'm here.
Figaro here, Figaro there,
Figaro up, Figaro down,
Swifter and swifter I'm like a spark:
I'm the handyman of the city.
Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, very good;
Fortunately for you I will not fail.
Musical Analysis:
Written in ABA form, also know as a ternary form or a song form. The flamboyant opening of the orchestra gave preparation to the robust melody of the baritone solo. The bass section opens the music with a masculine one-note pluck, suggesting a dominant chord then suddenly, the orchestra comes in, full blast, with a lot scalar passages, leaps of an octave, and grace notes. The 1st section revolves in its home key, C major, sometimes sitting to its dominant key, (G) then transitions to Eb major in the 2nd section by using ascending half step patterns from the note G up to Eb in a syllable ‘Na’. (G-F#-G, Ab-G-Ab-, A-G#-A, Bb-A-Bb, B-A#-B, CBC, D-C#-D---Eb) It goes to its relative minor, (C) then eventually went back to tonic.
Artist Biography
Gaetano Donizetti was among the most important composers of bel canto opera in both Italian and French in the first half of the nineteenth Century. Many of Donizetti's more than 60 operas are still part of the modern repertoire and continue to challenge singers for their musical and technical demands. Donizetti stands stylistically between Rossini and Verdi; his scenes are usually more expanded in structure than those of Rossini, but he never blurred the lines between set pieces and recitative as Verdidid in his middle-period and late works. Often compared to his contemporary, Bellini, Donizetti produced a wider variety of operas and showed a greater stylistic flexibility, even if he never quite achieved the sheer beauty of Bellini's greatest works.
Donizetti was educated in Bergamo, the town of his birth, studying with the opera composer Simon Mayr from 1806 to 1814. His youthful works include chamber operas, religious works, and some chamber music. Donizetti's first opera of note was La Zingara, which was premiered in Naples in 1822. He continued to work in Naples throughout the 1820's and 1830's, where he was active as both a conductor and composer.
In 1830, Donizetti finally achieved international fame with his opera Anna Bolena; notable for its expressive music and more extended scenes, it established Donizetti as one of the leading contemporary opera composers. The comic opera L'elisir d'amore (1832) and the tragic Lucrezia Borgia (1833) came shortly after. Donizetti's next work was Maria Stuarda, followed the same year by Lucia di Lammermoor (1835), which became an internationally recognized masterpiece. The Elizabethan tragedy Roberto Devereux (1837) completed his trilogy of operas that chronicle the English court from Henry VIII to Elizabeth I.
Donizetti's operas from the late 1830s were unable to match the success of Lucia, and when Donizetti was passed over for the directorship of the Naples Conservatory in 1840, he moved to Paris. There he composed the opera comique La fille du Régiment (1840), which was celebrated immediately for its charm and virtuosity. Later that year he completed La favorite (1840), another major contribution to the French repertoire. In 1842 Donizetti was appointed Kapellmeister of the Austrian court in Vienna, but retained his association with Paris.
Among Donizetti's last operas are Maria di Rohan (1843), an important historic opera, and his French tragedy Dom Sébastian (1843). Caterina Cornaro (1843) is also one of his finest works for its strong dramatic content. These late operas, although rarely performed, are serious works that set the standard for Verdi.
- Steven Coburn
“Una Furtiva Lagrima” From Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore
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Italian Text of 'Una Furtiva Lagrima'
Una furtiva lagrima
negli occhi suoi spuntò:
Quelle festose giovani
invidiar sembrò.
Che più cercando io vo?
Che più cercando io vo?
M'ama! Sì, m'ama, lo vedo. Lo vedo.
Un solo instante i palpiti
del suo bel cor sentir!
I miei sospir, confondere
per poco a' suoi sospir!
I palpiti, i palpiti sentir,
confondere i miei coi suoi sospir...
Cielo! Si può morir!
Di più non chiedo, non chiedo.
Ah, cielo! Si può! Si, può morir!
Di più non chiedo, non chiedo.
Si può morire! Si può morir d'amor.
English Translation of 'Una Furtiva Lagrima'
A single secret tear
from her eye did spring:
as if she envied all the youths
that laughingly passed her by.
What more searching need I do?
What more searching need I do?
She loves me! Yes, she loves me, I see it. I see it.
For just an instant the beating
of her beautiful heart I could feel!
As if my sighs were hers,
and her sighs were mine!
The beating, the beating of her heart I could feel,
to merge my sighs with hers...
Heavens! Yes, I could die!
I could ask for nothing more, nothing more.
Oh, heavens! Yes, I could, I could die!
I could ask for nothing more, nothing more.
Yes, I could die! Yes, I could die of love.
L’elisir d’amore, (Italian: “The Elixir of Love” or “The Love Potion”) comic opera in two acts by the Italian composer Gaetano Donizetti (Italian libretto by Felice Romani, after a French libretto by Eugène Scribe for Daniel-François-Esprit Auber’s Le Philtre, 1831) that premiered in Milanon May 12, 1832.
Main Characters
Nemorino — a good-hearted but penniless waiter
Adina — a wealthy and beautiful bar owner
Belcore — experienced charmer and Nemorino’s rival
Dulcamara — a travelling ‘quack’ (medicine man), who touts a dubious cure-all elixir
Giannetta — Adina’s friend and town gossip
Music
What separates L’Elisir d’Amore from dozens of charming comedies composed around the same time is not only the superiority of its hit numbers, but the overall consistency of its music. It represents the best of the bel canto tradition that reigned in Italian opera in the early 19th century—from funny patter songs to rich ensembles to wrenching melody in the solos, most notably the tenor’s showstopping aria “Una furtiva lagrima” in Act II. Its variations between major and minor keys in the climaxes are one of opera’s savviest depictions of a character’s dawning consciousness.
Setting And Story Summary
The opera is set in a small village in the early 19th century, rural Italy. Some early editions indicate a location in Basque country. The important fact is that it’s a place where everyone knows everyone and where traveling salesmen provide a major form of public entertainment.
Act I
Adina’s farm. Adina is sitting beneath a tree on her farm, reading a book. Her friend Giannetta and other peasants are resting nearby. Nemorino watches Adina from a distance, lamenting that he has nothing but love to offer her (“Quànto è bella, quànto è cara”). The peasants ask Adina to read to them, and she reads them the story of how Tristan won Isolde by drinking a magic love potion.
Sergeant Belcore swaggers in with his troop. Adina laughs at his braggadocio, but when he presses her to marry him, she promises to think it over. She invites the whole troop to her house for some wine, and the peasants return to their work. Nemorino intercepts Adina on her way to the house and awkwardly declares his love for her. She tells him that he is a nice fellow but that she is not inclined to fall in love with anyone.
In the village square, the populace eagerly greets the traveling “Doctor” Dulcamara, who proclaims the virtues of his patent cure-all (“Udite, udite, o rustici”). Nemorino asks Dulcamara if he has the Elixir of Love described in Adina’s book. Dulcamara gives Nemorino a bottle of wine, telling him that it is the magical elixir. Nemorino gulps it down and becomes tipsy. When Adina enters, Nemorino, certain that the potion will work, pretends to ignore her. To punish him, Adina flirts with Belcore, who tells her that he must return to his garrison and so must marry her at once. Nemorino, dismayed by this turn of events, urges Adina to wait just one more day, but she spitefully ignores him and invites the entire village to the wedding.
Act II
Adina’s house. Everyone is celebrating at the pre-wedding feast at Adinas house. Adina secretly wishes Nemorino had come so she could enjoy her revenge. Dulcamara sings a flirtatious duet with Adina (“Io son ricco e tu sei bella”), to great applause. Adina, still miffed at Nemorino’s absence, goes off with Belcore and a notary to sign the marriage contract.
Nemorino arrives, fearing that he is too late to prevent the wedding. Seeing Dulcamara, he begs for another bottle of the magic elixir, but Dulcamara will not give it to him until he can pay for it. Nemorino throws himself on a bench in despair. Belcore now returns, annoyed that Adina has postponed the wedding until that evening. Seeing Nemorino, Belcore asks why he is so sad. Nemorino tells him that he is despondent because he has no money. Belcore advises him to join the army, where he can instantly earn 20 scudi. Nemorino is reluctant, but Belcore persuades him with a vision of the glories (and opportunities for winning the ladies) of being a military man. Nemorino enlists and takes the money, thrilled at the prospect of winning Adina. Belcore secretly plumes himself on having recruited his rival and getting him out of the way.
In the village, Giannetta tells her friends the exciting news that Nemorino’s uncle has died and left him a fortune. Nemorino staggers in, having drunk the second bottle of “elixir.” He suddenly finds himself the centre of female attention, and, not knowing that he has become an eligible bachelor, believes that the elixir is finally working. Adina and Dulcamara arrive and are both astonished to see Nemorino surrounded by the village maidens and fully enjoying his newfound popularity. Adina angrily confronts him about joining the army, but Nemorino, enjoying her jealousy, goes off with a gaggle of girls. Dulcamara tells Adina that the magic elixir has made Nemorino popular, and that he joined the army in order to get the money to pay for it. Adina realizes that Nemorino’s love is true. Dulcamara, seeing an opportunity to sell more elixir, tries to rouse her jealousy, but she vows to win him back her own way.
Alone, Nemorino recalls the tear on Adina’s cheek and is convinced that she loves him (“Una furtiva lagrima”). But when she arrives, he pretends to be uninterested, in order to get her to declare her true feelings. She asks him not to leave and tells him that she has bought back his commission (“Prendi, per me sei libero”). But she still will not confess her love, so Nemorino vows to die a soldier. At last, Adina tells him that she loves him and begs his forgiveness. Belcore arrives to find the lovers embracing. But he is confident that there are plenty of fish in the sea—and that Dulcamara and his love potion can help.
-Linda Cantoni
What style is it in?
L’elisir d’amore is written in the bel canto style, which literally means ‘beautiful song’. Bel canto is all about exhibiting the beauty of the human voice. The orchestra functions to support the singer rather than to compete, and the orchestration is often quite sparse, leaving the voice exposed. This means that the singer’s intonation and vocal technique must be absolutely perfect, making bel canto a challenging style to master.
Donizetti, Bellini, and Rossini were the three leading composers of the bel canto style during the first half of the nineteenth century.
Musical Analyis:
This aria, written in strophic form has a very lovely and moving melody, in bel canto style. Donizetti tried to capture Nemorino’s feelings for Adina through arching melodic lines, opening the aria in an interval of a perfect fifth downward, descending in a minor second, and then going to a minor third upward with a leisurely rhythm.
Sources:
“'Torna a Surriento'.” Classic FM, www.classicfm.com/composers/rossini/.
Green, Aaron. “Translation of ‘Largo Al Factotum’ From ‘The Barber of Seville.’” ThoughtCo, ThoughtCo, www.thoughtco.com/largo-al-factotum-lyrics-and-text-translation-724018.
Schwarm, Betsy, and Linda Cantoni. “L'elisir D'amore.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 4 Apr. 2014, www.britannica.com/topic/Lelisir-damore.
Green, Aaron. “What Does the Famous Aria 'Una Furtiva Lagrima' Mean in English?” ThoughtCo, ThoughtCo, www.thoughtco.com/una-furtiva-lagrima-lyrics-and-translation-724077.
“L'elisir D'amore in a Nutshell.” Opera North, www.operanorth.co.uk/blogs/l-elisir-d-amore-in-a-nutshell.
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This is hilarious. Can you imagine a KHR AU where Tsunayoshi ended up being Reborns son? And when Nana casually tells him the man she married wasn’t his father but actually the Worlds Greatest Hitman™? And that he was literally the only one in the family who didn’t know (Vongola included depending on your take)
It could go either way really. A hilarious comedy where Tsuna Nopes out of that hella fast and try’s to prove nana wrong. ( thus the registry) but nope, that’s reborns name alright. Shit.
Or
It could go full steam ahead angst. Tsuna never really having a great home life with the young lion always gone and Nana not the best mother. He could try to find this guy. Reborn. Since he probably didn’t know about Tsuna, and he does find him, with the insane luck he’s always had, he finds this mountain of a man, this person that not even the best in the mafia can find if he didn’t want them to and just… tells him. And he’s hoping so badly that maybe this time will be different.
Maybe this time someone will see something in him that’s not just the Dame-Tsuna that everyone’s seen for most of his life, that even his own mother sees him as. And Reborn laughs. He laughs and tells this little 10 year old kid that so badly wants someone, anyone to care, that theres no way in hell he could ever be their father. Just look at him! Weak, spineless, a coward.
Reborn in all his arrogance, in his own self inflated Ego, an image he’s even started to believe. forgets that even the most terrifying of predators start out as baby’s, they start off with soft claws and closed eyes. He forgets, or ignores this and didn’t see how this kid who had no idea about the mafia or any type of ‘skill’ tracked down him, the Greatest Hitman in the World, or how he had the balls to still approach him after seeing what he does. All he sees is what everyone sees. What everyone has always seen. Dame-Tsuna.
And that just breaks Tsuna. His last chance. His last hope. Gone. Because this..this, MONSTER of a man refuses to see his own weakness in a child. Refuses to see the way his eyes catch the light just like his, refuses to see the way Tsuna still stands firm even under his heavy intimidating gaze. When grown men have flinched just from being looked at, this kid stared straight back at him, in pain, clearly, but all the same. He refused to look away.
(For half a second, Reborn wonders. Staring into those infuriated, heartbroken eyes. Eyes that refused to move. If maybe… No. He was just being sentimental and that’s not something you could have in the Mafia. Not even if he did wish it were true. That he could have someone to pass his skills and teaching down to, besides Dino.)
(……maybe even have someone look at him the way Aria always looked at Luce….)
But unfortunately, he can’t just leave the kid there. He knew about the mafia, for one after seeing Reborn take out his target. And kids had a bad habit of running their mouths even when they shouldn’t. But he didn’t want to kill the kid.
(At the time he decided it was because he was feeling benevolent, kind. Later after everything is over and he has his kid back, finally. He’ll realize what it actually was. That even though he didn’t think much of the kid consciously at the time. Subconsciously he was already interested in him. He wanted to see what he would make of himself. If he would rise after this or break. He was already attached and he didn’t even realize it.)
So before Tsuna can do anything, can even SAY anything, Reborn knocks him out. The kid drops like a box of rocks. Throwing him over his shoulder he heads out, there was a family recently that had been looking for kids to raise. They had been in trouble for some type of bullet with the rest of the Mafia but he’d been underground with the rest of the Arcobeleno at that time so he was iffy on why exactly a bullet would get so much attention. But mini wars happened all the time and if the Family wasn’t wiped out afterwards they usually brought in orphans and the lke to bolster their numbers in the future. The mafia also, normally left them alone for a good few years after that to gain back strength.
(it was an unspoken rule to never outright wipe a family out unless the Vindice allowed it. And they only allowed it in the most extreme of situations.)
(At the time Reborn would deny the reason why he thought to put Tsuna there, was so he’d have a better chance to learn and survive. So he could see what the kid grew into. )
Giving the kid to the family was the easy part. Physically handing the kid over to a grateful don was easy. Watching the dons wife cradle him was easy. The kid was so small it couldn’t have been hard for the strong woman. Leaving the room however proved to be difficult. Something in him urged him to stay, something told him that this wasn’t right, something was different, wrong. But NOTHING was wrong. Nothing was trying to kill him or trap him. There was nothing there. The Don could tell the reason the hit man was lingering. He knew at that moment that Reborn, The Worlds Greatest Hitman, had no idea what they were doing to the children. He didn’t know about the Possession Bullets. He had no idea. The Don also realized if he figured it out, that his life and the life of the Family would end. Because no one tricked Reborn.
After many promises (all fake) about how the Don would treat the boy like his own son, and what was his name, where did he come from? (I don’t care how you treat him idiot, make him strong. I have no idea ask him yourself, he’s a street rat.) Reborn left. Just…left.
In the coming days many things would happen, he would head back to head quarters to find Luce waiting for him. Her expression so very devastated he couldn’t find words, only a rapid sinking feeling in his stomach that if he were a more emotional man would have sent him to his knees. He knew what this was about, it had to be about that but there’s no way he was his, it was impossible. He would have known he would have felt something -oh god wHere WAS HIS KID-
Because Luce wouldn’t wear that expression if this was just him being stupid. Luce wouldn’t wear that expression if they could just go back and pick the kid up -I don’t even know his name what is his name- She wouldn’t be waking towards him with tears in her eyes -his eyes his eyes I'v seen those eyes those were my mothers eyes why didn’t I SEE- she wouldn’t hold his unresponsive face in her hands and say she was sorry, so, so sorry -Don’t do this to me Luce there’s a boy out there MY boy out there I have to find him don’t look at me with those damning eyes-
He learns from her that yes, The Boy wa- is his son. That the reason Luce didn’t say anything beforehand was because the future she saw at first was lovely. When Tsuna would first approach him it would impress the hell out of reborn. He’d be so interested he’d take the kid on as an apprentice, he wouldn’t find the courage to tell Reborn he was his son until later though. They would go through many things but bond beautifully. She didn’t know what changed in Tsuna to make him decide to tell Reborn right then but the moment it happened everything changed. (He thinks he knows what it was. He’d known someone was watching his hit but hadn’t known it was a kid. Normally he’d have gotten it done quickly then tracked down the bystander but when he realized the person wasn’t leaving he’d decided to have a little fun.
(He regrets it now. God does he regret being such a sadistic bastard for once in his life) he’d tortured the mark and during the entire time he’d told the mark (lurking person) how very much he hated liars, hated people with held truth from him. When he realized it was a kid.
-My Kid. My fucking kid godDAMN IT- he hadn’t exactly regretted it but now he did. With every part of his none existent heart, he fucking regretted it.)
He learns from her that the Estraneo family have been found guilty of experimenting on the children of their family. That no one could find them, that they’d gone to ground weeks ago and the last person to talk to them, had been Reborn.
When he had been handing his son over to them. Fuck.
She told him as he held his head in his hands that the Family had been set for eradication from the Vindice. But no one could find them. Not the Vindice, not the Vongola and not her.
He was in shock. He knew he was in shock. Because the one constant in Reborns life was that Family always stuck together. He was an Italian man to his core, Family, Familia were his life. Even when he hadn’t had either they were always values he’d understood and upheld. The Mafias own type of honor. And he’d given his kid away. His small son who had looked at him with eyes that held a desperate kind of hope, a desperation he’d known himself as a child when his mother was sick and they had nothing but each other. He knew those eyes, his mothers eyes and he’d ignored them. Stewed in his own fame, convinced himself that he would have KNOWN if he’d had a kid. He was Reborn, The Worlds Greatest Hitman. He would have known.
But he didn’t. And now looking into Luce’s own sad eyes he knew his son would be lost to him for a very long time.
#katekyo hitman reborn#Reborn#reborn khr#KHR#Angst#should i write more?#sawada tsunayoshi#Tsuna#Papa!Reborn#Luce#arcobaleno#vongola#all the feels#Fatherly Reborn#He loves his kid#It's his kid#The Worlds Greatest Hitman#Not#Reborn (Character)#adult reborn#Adult Reborn#ImpudentxxAngel
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Eugene Onegin
U-jean O-nay-gen
Difficulty: ★☆☆☆☆
First performed: March 19 1879 at Maly Theater in Moscow Russia
Who did it: Tchaikovsky
Here’s a bit of background:
It was first performed by students in 1879. The professional opening was January 29 1881 at the Bolshoi theater
It’s based on a verse novel (long poem) by Alexander Pushkin
It’s kind of a splice of multi-scenes in one person’s life rather than a straight continuous story
Themes: Love, Coming of age, Russia
Fun Tidbits:
Mahler once conducted this opera!
Eugene Onegin has been performed in Czech, Italian and English
Tchaikovsky kept most of story the same but shifted the main focus to emotions and more specifically Tatiana.
Our Major players
♪ Tatiana: Also called Tanya. Youthful, kinda angsty, but super smart brunette.
♪ Olga: Tanya’s little sister. Bubbly giddy, care free blonde.
♪ Lensky: Olga’s boyfriend, love-dovey poet.
♪ Onegin: Titular character, debatable main character. SUPER angsty and blasé. Too cool for school bro
Act One
Scene 1
We open in the garden of Tatiana’s house. Larina, Tatiana & Olga’s mum sits with their childhood nurse, Filippyevna. Inside the house, the two sisters are heard together singing a love song.
Larina listens in and begins to reminisce about a sweetheart she had before marrying her now deceased husband.
She is interrupted by a group of peasants singing on their way home. They stop to entertain the Larina family with a lil’ SHOWTIME! It’s a fun party tune about two lovers.
When they are finished, Tatiana sighs to herself causing her sister to shit on her dreamy-emo-melancholic nature.
Larina send the peasants away with some wine and Olga points outs how pale Tanya is looking these days.
Tanya eases their fear telling them, “I’m just reading a mad interesting book. Don’t worry.”
Larina scolds her slightly for being so dreamy all the time and reminds her that life is not like the fiction novels she reads. Olga shuts them both up pointing out the window that her BAE, Lensky has finally arrived but he’s not alone… The two men enter the house and Lensky introduces his mysterious tag along as his homeboy, Eugene Onegin.
Tanya is instantly smitten with his tall, dark, and moody atmosphere.
The boys have an aside in which Eugene ask which one Tanya is and then ridicules Lensky for picking Olga instead of Tanya. He actually tells Lensky that Olga’s face resembles a stupid moon. Lensky for some reason isn’t offended. But whatever.
Tanya’s on the other side of the garden with Olga blushing and whispering about how handsome and attractive Eugene is.There’s a WONDERFUL quartet and when it breaks, Lensky and Olga run off to have some private time, leaving Tanya and Onegin together.
Their fucking banter is painful awkward because Tanya becomes a bumbling smitten school girl and Eugene Onegin is playing it TOO cool.
In contrast Lensky share this super cute love letter with Olga.
None the less, Tanya is still smitten with him and scene one ends with Filippyevna noticing the sudden change in her.
Scene 2
Tanya sits in her room with Filippyevna who tells her it’s time for bed. Tanya is restless and ask Filippyevna to tell her stories about her younger days of being in love. She starts to tell and realizes Tanya isn’t even paying attention! She begins to worry about her because Tanya’s all red and flushed. Filippyevna begins to think she’s sick but Tanya spits out SHE’S IN LOVE.
She asks for a paper and pen and is left alone with her thoughts.
Now is the very famous letter aria that seems to go on forever.
Tanya stays up all nights writing a thousand drafts of a love letters to Onegin.
(We’ve all been there girl.)
She finishes it in the early morning and nervously gives it to Filippyevna to giver to her grandson to deliver!
Scene 3
It’s the next morning in the garden, there’s a bit of a ditty from servant girls pickin’ fruit.
Tanya sits exhausted and nervous on a bench. ONEGIN IS IN THE BUIDLING!!!
She shits herself nervously regretting her lack of self control and he sneaks up behind her mad cool like. He’s like “Hey.. You wrote me this letter. Don’t deny it.”
And she’s like “UHHHH??” hahahaha.
Onegin continues telling her that her letter has stirred emotions he hasn’t felt in hella long… BUT HE CONTINUES (THEY ALWAYS CONTINUE) with a fabulous aria that breaks my heart every time, he tells her that he was not meant for married life, in fact he would be hella bored by it. He tells her he loves her…..like a brother, leaving her with a kiss and the advice of not being too open with her emotions because others may not be as kind as he.
Tanya watches him leave, flushed red and mortified.
Act 2
Scene 1
It’s been a few months and we’re at Tanya’s name day. For the Americans in the crowd, name day is the feast day of a saint after whom a person is named. It’s common in Europe and some people have told me it’s even more important than birthdays. The towns people sing her praises ; Onegin invites her to dance but grows annoyed after hearing the whispers of gossip from the townspeople. He gets annoyed at Lensky for dragging him to the party and decides to fuck with him by asking Olga to dance.
Lensky gets pissy but Olga laughs considering Onegin’s invitation has harmless flirting. The two go off to dance, while Lensky literally has a childlike meltdown in the middle of the party. (Like wtf dude, I know that your girlfriend but it literally is just one dance…) At the end of the ONE dance, Olga returns and Lensky freaks the fuck out on her, claiming she embarrassed him. He grows jealous of Onegin and claims that she keeps ignoring his invitation to dance but she has refused. (Again…it was one dance…) Olga reassures him that Onegin was just playing and there is no reason to be jealous. Lensky begins to cool down, but Onegin decides to be a dick again and joins the couple.
Lensky ask Olga to dance with him again, but Onegin cuts in and insist she must dance with him. She decides to dance with him again, punishing Lensky for his crazy jealous behaviour.
Just then Monsieur Triquet joins the party, he’s Tanya’s French tutor from back in the day and this part of the opera is virtually useless plot wise. But interesting operatically, Triquet sings in FRENCH! While the rest of the opera is in Russian! I’ve always found that fun. Sometimes this aria is sung by Lensky but that’s improper staging. The little song Triquet sings is about how wonderful Tatyana is and she kinds of sits embarrassedly. (Think, you at your birthday party while they sing happy birthday!)
At the end of Triquet’s song, there is more dancing and FINALLY Onegin returns Olga to her seat, where Lensky has been sulking. Onegin trolls him with a, “Ohhh why the long face??” And Lensky blows up, claiming that he’s a hoe for wanting both sisters. By this point he’s shouting and everybody at the party stops dancing to watch.
Onegin calls him crazy which makes Lensky even more furious and he dramatically declares that he and Onegin are no longer friends. The language is so childish and hilarious, even Onegin doesn’t consider him serious. He urges Lensky to calm down, which duh makes Lensky even more angry. He challenges Onegin to a duel the very next day! He storms out, ending the party.
Scene 2
Lensky sits in the woods the next morning, waiting for Onegin. Zaretsky, Lensky’s neighbor, a duel enthusiast and witness for the duel is like “wtf is this dude Onegin.”
Lensky reassures him he will be here, and lets his mind wander to the better days of his youth. (Btw, they’re like fucking eighteen or so at this point.)
Finally Onegin shows up. They sing a lil’ duet about regretting that it’s come to this. It’s kind of sad because this whole thing started so stupidly. But long story short, Onegin pops a cap in Lensky’s ass. And the act ends with a Onegin weeping over his bro’s dead bod.
Act 3
Scene 1
The curtains rise and we’re in the middle of a huge fucking party. It’s been a couple years since that morning in the woods.
The party is in full swing, but Onegin stands off to the side, mad bored. He sings an aria basically saying, “I’m a loser. I’m 25. I have no wife, no career!” He’s spent the past years traveling and looking for life fulfillment but has failed He’s been wandering thru life aimless and depressed since killing Lensky.
The party attendees do a lil’ dance and as it ends, Tanya enters with her new husband, Prince Gremin. The guest excitedly greet the pair, and Onegin’s like, “Hold UP. IS THAT TANYA????”
Across the room, Tanya’s like, “ONEGIN???”
Onegin ends up talking to Gremin and ask the identity of the mysterious women he is with, Gremlin’s like, “Oh? Tanya? My wifey. We’ve been married for two years. Do you know her??
In a cold sweat, Onegin says they used to be neighbours back in the day.
Gremlin then sings this huge long aria about how much he loves Tanya and it’s mad awkward because Onegin just kind of stands there. By the end, Gremlin brings Tanya over and introduces the two.
The exchange between the old pair so fucking cold, you would think Tanya’s a damn Vulcan.
They exchange small talk for a few seconds then Tanya tells Gremin she’s tired and they bounce.
Onegin watches them leave and reminisces about the past and then suddenly realizes, “OH FUCK. I’M IN LOVE WITH HER.”
Be sure to note the letter scene motif returns in this scene!!!!
Scene 2
Tanya sits at home, holding….A LETTER. Not hers from all those years ago, BUT A NEW ONE FROM ONEGIN! He has written her asking to meet. She’s trouble because despite his boorish behaviour in the past, he still makes her feel some type of way.
Onegin arrives, passionately, desperately and intensely. They stand staring at each other and the sexual tension is so strong you could feel it in family circle standing room.
Finally, Onegin falls to the floor in front of Tanya’s feet.
And she’s like, “ enough stop that. Do you remember that time you lecture me in the fucking garden?”
Onegin apologizes and ask her to spare him, BUT SHE CONTINUES,
“Yeah I was younger then and probably a better person. I loved you and what did I get? NADA. You were A DICK, but y’know what I’m a bigger person. I won’t blame you. But what’s your problem, why coming for me now? BECAUSE I’M RICH AND FAMOUS? BECAUSE I’M TAKEN???”
Onegin explodes back, telling her that he’s sorry and does love her and that he was a fool. Tanya begins to weep and the pair embrace each other. They both speak of the happy moments they shared in the distant past.
Onegin ask Tanya to run away with him. It’s sweet and intense. But Tanya says no. He begs and begs, and begs!!! Tanya says no, but she does admit she still loves him.
Onegin is thrilled and again encourages her to leave her husband. Tanya stands firm and says no.
This happens like 3 more times, and then Tanya’s like OK ENOUGH.
She walks out, her last words: “FAREWELL FOREVER.”
Onegin falls to the floor and succumbs to his horrible empty fate.
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Oh my goodness, what a day I’ve had and it isn’t even been lunchtime yet. I actually went to bed early last night as I was just so exhausted. Mr. Awesome had a meeting and wouldn’t be home until late so I made the most of the evening.
The kids helped me make Chili Dog Casserole for dinner. We made it a little bit different as we just put the hotdogs into hotdog buns, instead of tortillas, and then spread the chili sauce on top and sprinkled with cheese before baking.
Mr. Awesome is not crazy about the tortilla version so we decided to give it a try this way and it was a WINNER!
We actually had enough leftover that we will be having this again for lunch today which is a GREAT thing!
Multitasking while dinner was in the oven
When we put the casserole in the oven we managed to get six more freezer meals prepared! I actually tried out a few from a freezer bundle pack that we just purchased from Jamerrill Stewart over at Large Family Table. I really admire all the work she is able to get done and love supporting other mom bloggers out there.
After feeding the kiddos I went ahead a browned up the 20 pounds of hamburger we had picked up on Sunday when we actually did TWO Walmart Grocery Pickups… the system was having some glitches and errors but thankfully they seem to have them worked out now.
In about 2 hours we ended up with 8 freezer meals, 4 dinners worth of browned hamburger, and a batch of spaghetti sauce! Not too bad… but this explains part of why I was so exhausted. The other reason is that I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.
We have two each of the following:
Italian chicken (we will serve this over rice)
Chicken Parmesan (similar to THIS RECIPE but we use chicken in place of the breaded eggplant)
Lasagna (made with our favorite spaghetti sauce)
Creamy Ranch Porkchops (very similar to THIS RECIPE minus the rice and we added a pack of dry ranch dressing – we will serve it with rice)
Plus browned hamburger for:
Taco Ring
Daddy Can’t-Wait Casserole
Briarpatch Casserole
Mexican Tortilla Skillet
And a batch of spaghetti sauce that will make a super quick meal later this month. All of these can be paired with pasta or rice, a salad and/or some steamed veggies to make a well-rounded meal. The kids and Mr. Awesome will probably also enjoy some fresh rolls or buttered bread with their meals as well.
Getting back to today
Enough about what we did yesterday… this morning started about like any other day except that I woke up FREEZING! The AC had been left on all night and it was probably cold enough to hang meat… not good for me.
Once I managed to pull myself out of the bed and climb up to turn the AC off it was time to take the doggie out for her walk. Then back for my coffee and oatmeal.
As many of you know, I’ve really been trying hard to incorporate some of the Trim Healthy Mama ideas into my everyday diet. I need to have really like to have my morning coffee and I had switched over to the Dandy Blend before we started on these other diet changes so I wanted to try to make my creamer addiction a little bit healthier. You don’t have to add the ‘extra’ ingredients but they help to make this a vitamin-packed way to start your day. The Trim Healthy Mama books have a ton of ideas and flavor variations that you could try.
As I sat down to sip coffee and eat my oatmeal I worked on my email tasks and some other blogging related activities.
I really love looking through some of my old posts like this one HERE.
One of those involved me checking my Pinterest account so I could post a few recent blog posts to some boards. Well, while I was there I got distracted and starting pinning and then decided to check my notifications.
I have had quite a few new followers and decided to go ahead and follow them back like the good ‘Pinner’ I am. I also noticed a few more boards that I wanted to follow… you can probably guess what happened next…
Suspended from Pinterest?!
Everyone keeps joking that Pinterest is gonna ban me because I get so carried away pinning sometimes but I never really thought it would happen. I guess it was a reality as I found myself SUSPENDED!
Yep, I’ve been an avid Pinterest fan for over 8 or 9 years… maybe longer, maybe since they started… and I’ve never been suspended. Leave it to me to do get banned or suspended from Pinterest though.
Thankfully they have since fixed my account and said it was ‘mistakenly deactivated‘… Whew! I thought I had lost EVERYTHING and gosh knows I don’t have enough time in my days to go back and try to find all those wonderful things I’ve pinned to all of my boards.
The most HORRIBLE thing about this is that I lost ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS!!!! If you are on Pinterest please look me up and follow me again… thank you!
After reading a little more about this I realize it may have been because I had recently signed up for a trial with Coscheduler… maybe I actually was pinning too much between my manual pins and the ‘scheduled pins’? I have since ended my trial and don’t plan on purchasing.
After that scare, I figured that I should probably try and get to something a little more productive like homeschooling but I really had to PEE!
What didn’t I look before I sat down?
I went to our one little bathroom the moment I saw it was empty. I noticed that it wasn’t the only thing empty though.
Why is this such a hard thing to do?
First things first, I still had to pee and I was in a hurry so I didn’t check before I sat down…
Ewww… what did I just sit in?
If you’re a Momma of boys then you know that it is not a good thing to sit on a wet toilet seat. Luckily it seems that someone had just been playing with water and since the bathroom is so small the water had gotten EVERYWHERE.
Needless to say, I wasn’t a very happy Momma and this little experience prompted me to lead a quick bathroom training which involved:
Making sure EVERYONE knows to check the toilet seat and to wipe it if you make a MESS
Making sure EVERYONE knows how to change an empty toilet paper roll
Now they have NO EXCUSES… this doesn’t mean that I don’t expect I will always find a clean toilet seat and toilet paper but it should help a lot.
Next will be to show them ALL how to clean the bathroom with our new cleaning products!
Now we need to finish up our regularly scheduled school work and get on with our day which may include a NAP for me as I am already exhausted… What a day!
Did you notice our cute Dragon in the bathroom? Get yours HERE.
Oh, What a day! Freezer meals, Pinterest Suspension, and No Toilet Paper Oh my goodness, what a day I've had and it isn't even been lunchtime yet. I actually went to bed early last night as I was just so exhausted.
#norwexconsultant#change the roll#freezer cooking#homeschool#life skills#no excuses#no toilet paper#pinterest suspension
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CHAPTER 6: LUCY GOOSEY
A few months after I moved to Los Angeles, I woke up to a call from my agent, Steve. I’d been sleeping in a lot at the time, and I’d slept in again that day. I groggily picked up the phone, still half asleep, and tried to decipher what my agent was saying.
It took me a second to realize he was telling me to hurry up and get out of bed: I’d gotten a last-minute callback for a new ABC Family pilot called Pretty Little Liars.
I’d been meeting with casting directors regularly since I’d moved from Pittsburgh. I’d gone out for bit parts in TV, but this was my first pilot, and I had no idea what to expect. There’s a difference between acting and auditioning, and I wasn’t sure I was a strong auditioner. I could talk to casting directors all day about the quirks of classical theater training, but when it came to actually selling my version of a character to them, I was still very new to the game.
Despite my self-doubt, my representation kept pushing to get me in the room with casting directors all over town. They seemed to believe in my acting abilities, or at least in my bone structure. Their enthusiasm helped keep me motivated.
I’d been in to audition for this pilot once already — for the part of Ezra Fitz, a young high school English teacher. It’d gone decently well but hadn’t been anything to write home about. Getting a callback came as a surprise. Steve gave me the breakdown for the Pretty Little Liars callback — he told me that I’d be reading across from Lucy Hale this time, the girl that had been cast as Ezra’s underage love interest.
Before he got off the phone, Steve said, “Ian, not quite sure how to put this, but look nice, okay? Nice shirt, nice pants, wash your face. Don’t mean to sound like your mom, but this one could be good for you.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much in the way of “nice” clothes. Student loans were hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles at the time, and buying new clothes seemed like a waste of money. I’d had to buy a suit earlier in the summer for a wedding, and had left all the tags on it so that I could return it after. About the only thing nice I owned was a blue button-down shirt. That morning it had pasta stains all over it from a raucous Italian dinner a few nights earlier, and I’d forgotten to do my laundry.
I rolled out of bed and surveyed my one-room apartment: all my possessions were strewn about within arm’s length. Dangling on a suspicious-looking metal pipe sticking out of the ceiling was a hanger with my only other clothing option: a green V-neck sweater that I’d had since high school.
The sweater was from Hollister, and it had the company’s seagull logo on the tag. I always liked that about it. It was like an inside joke between me and myself. Carrying that little bird everywhere with me always felt comforting, like a good luck charm.
Plus, it was also the only item of clothing I owned that didn’t have holes in it. I wore it everywhere.
I threw myself in the shower, considered shaving but didn’t have time, and tried to dry off as best I could. I didn’t have AC, and on warm days the apartment would heat up like an oven. It was early October, and I should have been enjoying something hot and pumpkin-spiced, but it was sweltering outside.
There wasn’t time to stand in front of the open refrigerator to cool off, which I did on a daily basis. I grabbed my trusty green sweater off the hangar and headed out to Warner Bros. studios in Burbank, where the audition was being held. Of course, my car didn’t have AC either, and I could feel the beads of sweat on my back joining together to form small rivulets. It was as gross as it sounds.
Right before I walked into the casting office, I pulled the green sweater on and prayed that nobody would ask me about my clothing choices.
I walked into the office, which was thankfully cooled to an appropriate temperature for long sleeves.
Then I glanced around the room and started to sweat again. The waiting area was filled with handsome model types. Guys who didn’t own knives because they did all of their slicing and dicing with their razor-sharp jawlines. I recognized a few of them from their stints as sexy werewolves and morally loose ad men from the 1960s. Not only were these actors all phenomenally good-looking, they all had booked serious jobs before.
The only work I had under my belt at the time was a bit part in an indie film and a smoothie commercial I’d done in college.
“Ian Harding?”
A young woman with a clipboard approached and checked off my name.
“You’ll be up in just a second.”
I’d been to this office once before to meet with casting directors right after I moved to Los Angeles, and I knew there was a bathroom down the hall. I had to get away from everyone for just a second, make sure none of the cold pizza I’d had for breakfast on the drive over was stuck in my teeth.
In the bathroom I looked at myself in the mirror and doused my face with water, careful not to let any droplets get on my festive sweater. I started running through my lines in my head.
When I first started auditioning, I’d listened to music — usually fast-paced metal or hip-hop —to psych myself up. But I realized after a few auditions that I was going in and practically screaming my lines. So, I tweaked my routine to be a bit more meditative. It’s been more effective so far than listening to Slipknot.
I closed my eyes, took a few slow and deliberate breaths, and, with my eyes closed, watched as my lines appeared in the dark space behind my eyelids.
The scene I was working on today involved me striking up a conversation with a woman at a bar in the middle of the afternoon. Cut to: we’re making out in the women’s restroom. It would end up being the scene that introduces my character in the first episode of the show.
The first time I read the pilot, I didn’t quite know what to make of Ezra, but I felt like he and I somehow clicked. I felt a warmth about the role, a sort of natural rapport. I didn’t want to go in and fuss with the part for this callback. I knew what I wanted to do with it.
From outside the bathroom I heard a door open and a female voice say something. Then a muffled chorus of heys and hellos from all the guys. I didn’t want to keep casting waiting on me, so I ran a hand through my hair and gave myself a final once-over in the mirror.
Back in the lobby, the guys were all talking quietly. I sat down in an empty chair.
One of the sexy werewolves turned to me:
“You just missed her. Lucy Hale just walked by. The girl they cast as Aria.”
Aria, the girl my character picks up at the bar. The entire room was buzzing about her.
“My friend did a short with her. He said she’s single.”
“Your friend’s wrong, man. She’s dating a guy from my cousin’s acting class.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious!”
“She’s so hot.”
A door opened at the far end of the room, and the casting assistant with the clipboard poked her head around the corner.
“Ian? We’re ready for you.”
The sexy werewolf called after me to break a leg as I walked across the room.
The shades were all pulled down on the windows in the audition room, and it took a second for my eyes to adjust. The only source of light was a bright lamp mounted on a C-stand. There were half a dozen people seated behind a camera on one side of the room.
“Hey man, good to see you again,” a guy called out from behind the camera.
“Yeah you too, bud,” I replied, realizing that “bud” might have sounded a little too chummy.
There were familiar faces in the room, but new ones too. The woman to my left — I was pretty sure she was the writer of the show. Or the creator? Both?
The guy to her right — Bob, was it? He had seemed like a nice guy the last time I read for the part. I figured I would try and keep him laughing, maybe crack a joke about all the lookalikes waiting outside.
Gayle, the casting director, whom I’d met a few days prior, gave me a big smile. “Good to see you again, Ian,” she said. “Have a seat there and go ahead and slate whenever you’re ready.”
I sat down, a hand over my eyes to shade the glare of the light over the camera.
“Hi,” a voice chirped to my side.
I totally hadn’t seen her: right next to me, smiling expectantly, was Lucy Hale.
“Oh hey,” I said. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Hot out, isn’t it?” she teased, eyeing my sweater.
“I just like Christmas a lot,” came out of my mouth. That didn’t entirely make sense.
She grinned mischievously at me.
There was something about her that I recognized immediately, or recognized in her. We’d never met before, but there was something familiar, something comforting about Lucy. Perhaps the way she looked at me in that moment felt open, receptive. Like she was taking me in as opposed to merely appraising me.
It wasn’t cinematic: sparks didn’t fly, orchestral music didn’t well up as we gazed into each other’s eyes. It was a simpler moment. Quieter. Two people stuck in a whirlwind of expectation and excitement — we each somehow understood who the other was.
“I’m Ian, by the way,” I said, leaning forward to shake her hand.
“Lucy,” she said, a slight smile spreading across her face. “Whenever you’re ready,” Gayle said.
I sat, took a deep breath, and we began.
Lucy’s line went something like, “Oh, I love this song.”
I nodded. There wasn’t any music playing, but I nodded. I looked into Lucy’s eyes, and it suddenly dawned on me what the scene was about. It wasn’t a love scene at all. I didn’t need to kiss her, or have sex with her, or make her my wife.
I wanted to understand her. It was that simple. I wanted to know everything I possibly could about this woman.
Somebody coughed. I had a line to say.
“B-twenty-six!” I blurted out. It was the number of the song on the jukebox at the bar we were supposed to be sitting in.
Lucy’s eyes went wide in surprise. She hadn’t expected the line to come out like that — neither had I.
We were both surprised, and because we were both surprised, the moment was suddenly alive. Fresh. We were listening to each other, actually communicating. There was chemistry.
We read through the scene again, the second time the dialogue rolled out crisper than the first. I wanted to read through the scene once more. I was having too much fun.
But all too soon my time was up.
I looked around at the faces in the room. At the end of every audition, there’s a moment, usually no longer than the time it takes to look up from your script, when, for a fraction of a second, you see the next few years of your life align. When you start out as an actor, this is the moment you live for.
Marlene — that was her name! — the creator of the show, thanked me for coming in as she scribbled on the pages on her lap.
“Yup, good job,” Gayle said. I think she was smiling. Headshots were shuffled. Pens scratched paper. “Thank you!” I threw out to no one in particular.
I grabbed my keys and phone, which I had apparently set down on the floor at some point.
I turned back to Lucy.
“Thank you for everything,” I said.
“Oh! You too. Don’t die from heat exhaustion in that sweater,” she said.
I walked back out through the waiting room, waved to the werewolf and told him something like “go get ’em,” and headed for the parking lot. I waited until I got all the way outside before ripping off my sweat-drenched sweater.
On the way home, my phone buzzed. Vikram, my manager, was calling. I pulled over to take the call.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“I really have no idea.”
“That can be good.”
“Yeah.”
I sat for a moment, mulling over the audition.
“This one was different,” I said.
Vikram waited for me to continue.
I put the phone on speaker and laid it on the dashboard, freeing my hands to gesture what my mouth couldn’t articulate.
“Lucy Hale was in the room. It was a chemistry read, right? I was surprised at how easy it was. It was like hanging out with an old friend. It was weird.”
“Ian, all of that sounds like a good thing.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I conceded.
“No, I am right, because they want you to go in for a network test.”
“You already knew!?” I yelled at the phone.
Vikram chuckled. “I wanted to know your thoughts first!”
Several more rounds of callbacks followed. And every round there were fewer and fewer of us in the waiting room. Lucy and I read together in front of different people in different rooms, and we got to hang out a little bit, too. We were becoming fast friends.
Finally, there were just two of us left trying out for the role of Ezra. Me and one other guy. He was Canadian. The pilot, and possibly the entire show, was going to be shot in Vancouver, so my agents had warned me that he was the financially responsible option for the studio.
On the day of the final producer session, I arrived early. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot, going over my lines with my eyes closed, when I heard a tap on the window. It was Lucy. She grinned and waved. I rolled down my window.
“Schmian!” she yelled. Lucy loves nicknames.
“Hey, Lucy Goosey.”
“How you feeling?” she asked. “Excited?”
“Nervous,” I said. “I’m feeling really, really nervous.”
“I know what you mean. Between you and me, I hope you get it. It’d be really fun to work together.”
We went inside, shook hands with the producers, and I auditioned my heart out one last time.
I was going to miss this. With all of the other actors I’d met in Los Angeles, acting had felt like work. I showed up and I did my job. With Lucy, it felt like two kids in a sandbox. We were constantly surprising one another.
After the audition, I felt a strange hollowness. It was my last audition for the show. There was nothing else I could do now. And I wasn’t ready for this all to end.
I wanted this role.
Back in my neighborhood, I was circling the block looking for a parking space, when my phone started to buzz again. It was Steve, my agent. I put the phone on speaker.
“Hey!” I said.
The voice on the phone was somber.
“Ian, hey,” he said. “This a good time?”
“What’s up?” I said.
“I’ve got bad news . . .”
I stopped the car in the middle of the street. It was over. It had been a nice fantasy, but I should have known better than to get my hopes up.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Yeah. It’s just — do you have any warm clothes?”
In the passenger seat next to me was the green sweater that I’d worn to that first callback. One of these days I was going to remember to get it washed.
“Yeah, I’ve got a sweater or two,” I said. “Why?”
“I hear that Canada is cold in November.”
“. . .”
“So you’ll need to pack some warm clothes since you’re going to be up there shooting for a month. You got the role, Ian. Knocked it out of the park. Congrats!”
“. . .”
“Ian, are you there?”
“Goddamnit, Steve!” I shouted. “My emotions are not a pipe for you to play upon!”
Steve chuckled and took my outburst for what it truly was: tremendous excitement.
After we got off the phone, I looked back over at the sweater with the seagull on its tag.
When I got my first paycheck, I went and got it dry-cleaned.
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