#fini

[detournementsmineurs]

Leonor Fini au "Bal de la Violette" à Paris, France, 1948.

[uslions]

[am--afmil]

The end of an era...

A-10 Thunderbolt II Brrrrtttttt Fini Flight!

"The World will never be the same without the A-10 😒".

[amare-habeo]

Leonor Fini (Argentinian-French, 1907-1996)                                                                          Woman’s Head (Tête de femme), N/D           

Watercolor on paper, 45 x 34,5 cm                            

[issalovescandyclouds]

New and improved intro!!!

Masterlist (Reqs are open!)

Haiiii I’m Anissa, but people call me Issa, Rain, or Rainbow!

My interests!!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

~Info~

Bday!!! ~ 08.26.09 (MM/DD/YY)

DNI list: MAGA, homophobes, transphobes, racists, sexists, zoophiles, pedophiles, proshippers, and any bigots or weirdos (not the good kind of weirdos!)

PLEASE interact: If you want to be friends and aren’t on my DNI list! :D I love meeting new people, so if you’re interested in talking, don’t be afraid to DM me or send me asks!

I’m a Mexican born in America! I’m bilingual, speaking English and Spanish!

!Hobbies!

I love drawing, cosplaying, writing, crafting, listening to music, and playing video games!

I’ve uploaded a few fanfics on here, and I’m open to requests and suggestions! However, I will NOT write any of the following:

Non-con

Minor x Adult

Incest

Any odd or non-con-like kinks (Age playing, somnophilia, piss, vomit, scat, etc)

I’m open to art commissions, requests, and tips! I’m not the best artist, so please don’t expect perfection from me!

My mutuals and friends!!!

@theghostofjenny one of my best friends EVER. Best girls girl there is, I love her so muchhhhh!!! (#jenjen #jj #jennyyy)

Literally us:

@whitekeyzz MIXED KING OF A HB I LOVE U 😛 (#mans #our mixed king)

Literally us!!!

@fiji2chalant BEAUTIFUL ASS HG FAHHHH ILYSM GIRL (#fini #fijifij)

Literally us!!!

@yyungscarecrow MY LITTLE SISTER (not actually sigh) I LOVE U SO MUCHHHHH (#yoli #lil sis yols)

Literally us!!!

@cranberrysaucebath MY FUCKING BEAUTIFUL MUTUAL AND GF IN LAW FOR RON ANDERSON AGHHH SHE’S SO COOLLLL (#ani #gf in law)

Literally us!!!

@aboodelicious MY MAIDEN I’MA GETCHAA BE READY FOR ME (#aboolicious #aboo)

Literally us!!!

Other stuff!!!

DMs and asks are open!

My tags, I guess?? :p :3 ⬇️

#issalovescandyclouds #anissa’s rants #issa’s rants #issa’s mooties #issa’s stuff #issa rambles #issa’s blogs #anissa’s blogs #anissa rambles #anissa’s mooties #anissa’s stuff #issa’s fanfiction #anissa’s fanfiction #issa’s writing #anissa’s writing

[vhscorp]

Quand tout semble fini, l’espoir est ce souffle invisible qui appelle encore à la vie…

V. H. SCORP

[babylon-crashing]

SUGAR HILL: a swamp opera (act ii, scene ii)

A Note on Origins and Responsibility

Sugar Hill (1974) is a product of Blaxploitation cinema—a genre that, for all its flaws, created some of the first opportunities for Black heroines on screen; even as the directors, writers and producers behind those images were predominantly white and their interpretations of Black stories are through a lens of commercial sensationalism.

I, myself, come to this material as a pale male, a composer of Russian, Italian, Jewish and Irish descent, a relative newcomer to the Southern Gothic and Dark Americana traditions that have shaped this Opera. Spanish is not my native language. I do not claim expertise in the Histories, Spiritual practices, or lived experiences that form the foundation of this story. What I can offer, though, is an act of listening—to the Scholars, Musicians and Traditions that have long cultivated the soil from which this work grows. This libretto has been shaped by deep study and love of Black composers (Harry Lawrence Freeman, Florence Price, Margaret Bonds) and contemporary practitioners (Rhiannon Giddens, Nicole Brooks, Jessie Montgomery) whose work demonstrates how to honor these Traditions with rigor and care.

I have tried, always, to write not as one who speaks for, but as one who listens to—and to let the music that emerged be not my voice, but a Chorus of voices far older and wiser than I will ever be. Any failures of imagination or understanding are mine alone. My admiration and the conversations that I hope we shall have belong to the Traditions ---their sins as well as their blessings--- that brought us all here.

Thank you. ZJC.

__________________________________________

EL TRÍO — EL PESO DE LA ELECCIÓN (THE TRIO — THE WEIGHT OF CHOICE)

SETTING: The heart of the swamp. The clearing where Morgan died, where Sugar was crowned, where everything has led. The quicksand is smooth, untroubled. The cypress trees stand like sentinels. The silver moon hangs low and wrong, but the east is beginning to lighten.

TIME: The hour before dawn. The Baron's deadline approaches.

ATMOSPHERE: The Vega shimmers—deep, resonant, eternal. The CHORUS OF THE DEAD hums softly, waiting. MAMA MAITRESSE stands at the edge of the clearing, her ancient face unreadable. This is the Trio. This is the last moment before the choice.

__________________________________________

BEAT I

Sugar and Valentina stand together at the water's edge. Mama watches from the shadows. The moon is setting. The sun is not yet risen. The Baron is absent—for now. This moment belongs to the women.

They don't speak for a long moment. There is too much to say and none of it will change what comes.

SUGAR (finally, her voice quiet, almost human): ¿Por qué viniste?

(Why did you come?)

VALENTINA: Lo sabes.

(You know it.)

SUGAR: Dilo.

(Say it.)

Valentina takes Sugar's face in her hands. Her eyes are wet, but her voice is steady.

VALENTINA: Porque te amo. Porque te amé desde el principio. Porque te amaré hasta el final.

(Because I love you. Because I loved you from the beginning. Because I will love you until the end.)

Sugar's hands come up, cover Valentina's. Her touch is cold—silver-cold, death-cold. But she doesn't pull away.

SUGAR: Eso no es suficiente.

(That’s not enough.)

VALENTINA: Es todo lo que tengo.

(That’s all I have.)

They stand like that for a long moment—two women at the edge of everything. Sugar's eyes flicker, brown to silver, silver to brown. She is fighting. She has been fighting since the cemetery.

Mama takes a step forward. Her voice is ancient, cracked, gentle.

MAMA: Hija... he visto esto antes. Muchas veces. Mujeres que entran al pantano buscando justicia. Mujeres que encuentran poder. Mujeres que pierden todo lo que aman.

(Daughter... I have seen this before. Many times. Women who enter the Swamp seeking Justice. Women who find Power. Women who lose everything they love.)

She looks at Valentina. Her eyes are wet.

MAMA [cont.]: Y cada vez... cada vez, la que se queda piensa que puede encontrar otra cosa. Que el pantano le debe algo. Que el amor puede vencer a la muerte.

(And every time... every time, the one who stays behind thinks she can find something else. That the Swamp owes her something. That Love can conquer Death.)

She shakes her head—slowly, sadly.

MAMA [cont.]: El amor no vence a la muerte, hijas mías. El amor es tan solo memoria... y la muerte se alimenta de la memoria hasta que no queda nada más que polvo y huesos desnudos.

(Love does not conquer Death, my daughters. Love is merely Memory... and Death feeds on Memory until nothing remains but dust and bare bones.)

Sugar pulls away from Valentina. Turns to the water. Stares into its smooth, dark surface.

SUGAR: Me acuerdo de cuando nos conocimos.

(I remember when we met.)

Valentina doesn't move. Doesn't speak.

SUGAR [cont.]: Eras policía nueva. Yo estaba haciendo fotos en el parque. Me viste y pensaste que estaba haciendo algo ilegal.

(You were a new police officer. I was taking photos in the park. You saw me and thought I was doing something illegal.)

She almost smiles. Almost.

SUGAR [cont.]: Me dijiste: ‘Señorita, necesita un permiso para fotografiar en propiedad pública.’

(You said to me: ‘Miss, you need a permit to take photographs on public property.’)

VALENTINA (her voice cracking): Y tú me dijiste: ‘Entonces arréstame, oficial. Me muero por pasar la noche en tu celda.’

(And you said to me: ‘Then arrest me, Officer. I’m dying to spend the night in your cell.’)

Sugar turns. For a moment, the silver fades. For a moment, she's just Diana. Just the woman Valentina fell in love with.

SUGAR: ¿Te acuerdas?

(Do you remember?)

VALENTINA: Me acuerdo de todo.

(I remember everything.)

They cross to each other. Embrace. It is not a kiss of passion—it is a kiss of farewell. They both know. They have both known since The Baron spoke.

Mama watches. Her face is wet. She has seen this before. She will see it again. It never gets easier.

The kiss ends. Sugar steps back. Her eyes flicker—brown, silver, brown. She is trying to hold onto the human part of herself, trying to find the ‘otra cosa’ that The Baron said doesn't exist.

She looks at the eastern sky. It's lighter now. The dawn is coming.

SUGAR (her voice breaking): No hay otra cosa. Nunca la hubo.

(There is nothing else. There never was.)

Valentina takes her hands. Squeezes them.

VALENTINA: Lo sabía. Desde el principio.

(I knew it. From the beginning.)

SUGAR (desperate): ¿Y aun así viniste?

(And yet you came?)

Valentina smiles—a small, sad, beautiful smile. The smile of someone who has already made her peace.

VALENTINA: Aun así.

(Even so.)

She releases Sugar's hands. Steps back.

VALENTINA [cont.]: Tienes que elegir, Diana. No puedes huir. No esta vez.

(You have to choose, Diana. You can't run away. Not this time.)

Sugar looks at her. Looks at Mama. Looks at the water, the trees, the lightening sky. She knows what she has to do. She has known since The Baron spoke.

She opens her mouth to speak—

But The Baron is there. Not emerging. Not arriving. Just... present. As he always is. As he always will be.

The Vega swells. The Chorus rises. The dawn holds. The choice has come.

__________________________________________

BEAT II

EL DÚO — EL SACRIFICIO (THE DUET — THE SACRIFICE)

SETTING: The same clearing. But the walls of the world are drawing in. The trees press closer. The water rises. The Dead emerge from the shadows—silver-eyed, shackled, waiting. And in their center: THE BARON, no longer laughing, his face grave and eternal. The east is lightening. The sun will rise soon.

TIME: The moment of choice. The moment of sacrifice. The moment that will end everything and begin something new.

ATMOSPHERE: The Vega swells to its full power. THE CHORUS OF THE DEAD sings—not humming now, but singing, a polyphonic chant in a language older than America, older than Spanish, older than words. The Orchestra is full, terrible, beautiful.

The Baron advances. Sugar steps forward to meet him—but Valentina is beside her, holding her hand. Mama has withdrawn to the edge of the clearing, watching, weeping.

BARON (his voice carrying the weight of the First Act, the weight of eternity): La corona o el caos. Siempre la corona o el caos.

(The crown or chaos. Always the crown or chaos.)

He stops before Sugar. Looks at her silver eyes, her cold hands, what she has become.

BARON [cont.]: Has elegido.

(You have chosen.)

Sugar's voice is steady. The decision is made. The fight is over.

SUGAR: He elegido.

(I have chosen.)

BARON: ¿La corona?

(The crown?)

Sugar looks at Valentina. Looks at the Water, the Trees, the Dead who wait for her. She shakes her head.

SUGAR: No.

(No.)

BARON: ¿El caos?

(The chaos?)

Sugar looks at Valentina again. Looks at the woman she loves, the woman who walked into the dark for her, the woman who is smiling at her with tears in her eyes.

SUGAR (barely a whisper): No. Ella.

(No. Her.)

A long pause. The Baron looks at Valentina. Looks at Sugar Hill. His face is unreadable—ancient, patient, eternal. But something moves behind his eyes. Recognition. Respect. Perhaps even grief.

BARON (quietly, to Valentina): Lo sabías. Desde el principio.

(You knew it. From the beginning.)

VALENTINA (her voice steady, her eyes on Sugar): Lo sabía.

(I knew it.)

BARON (to Sugar): El trato fue contigo. La deuda es tuya.

(The deal was with you. The debt is yours.)

He steps closer to Valentina. Studies her—this woman who has walked into the Swamp with nothing but her love and her stubbornness and her refusal to look away.

BARON [cont.]: Pero tú has pagado la deuda con tu elección. Y la elección... tiene su propio precio.

(But you have paid the debt with your choice. And the choice... has its own price.)

He extends his hand to Valentina.

BARON [cont.]: ¿Estás lista, hija?

(Are you ready, daughter?)

Valentina looks at his hand. Looks at Sugar. The woman she loves. The woman she came to save. The woman she will become.

She takes Sugar's face in her hands one last time. Kisses her forehead. Kisses her closed eyes. Kisses her lips—softly, gently, farewell.

VALENTINA: Adiós, Diana. No te olvidaré... ni siquiera mientras la Muerte se sacia conmigo.

(Goodbye, Diana. I will not forget you... not even while Death sates itself upon me.)

She releases her. Turns to The Baron. Takes his hand.

The silver begins. It rises from the water, from the mud, from the roots of the cypress trees. It fills her eyes, her hands, her heart. She does not fight it. She has never fought anything in her life except the truth of how much she loves this woman.

Sugar watches. She does not scream. She has no scream left. She watches Valentina become something else. Something swamp-born. Something eternal. Something that will never grow old, never die, never forget.

SUGAR (her final words to Valentina, barely audible): Amor. Amor. Amor. No te olvidaré. Ni siquiera en la muerte. Ni siquiera en la muerte.

(Love. Love. Love. I will not forget you. Not even in Death. Not even in Death.)

Valentina—silver-eyed, transformed, crowned—turns. She looks at Sugar. For a moment, something human flickers in her new eyes. Love. Grief. Farewell.

VALENTINA (her voice hollow now, echoing, eternal): Vete, Diana. Vive. Ama. Envejece. Muere.

(Go, Diana. Live. Love. Grow old. Die.)

She turns. Walks into the swamp. The Dead follow. The Baron follows. They disappear into the mist, into the silver-blue-crystal light, into the kingdom that is hers now.

Sugar falls to her knees. The scream that tears from her throat is not human—it is the sound of a soul losing everything, twice and surviving anyway.

The Vega holds its note. The Chorus is silent. The world is silent.

Mama stands alone at the water's edge, watching Sugar, watching the place where Valentina disappeared, watching the dawn that is finally breaking.

__________________________________________

BEAT III

THE SOLO — LA REINA DE LA NADA (THE QUEEN OF NOTHING)

SETTING: The clearing. Empty now. The water is smooth. The trees are still. The mist has lifted. The sun is rising—pale, watery, indifferent. Mama stands at the edge of the trees, watching Sugar with eyes that have seen too much.

TIME: Dawn. The dawn after the night that contained everything.

ATMOSPHERE: The Vega is silent. The Orchestra is silent. There is only Sugar, alone and the sound of her breathing and the slow, terrible transformation that is still happening, that will not stop, that cannot be undone.

Sugar kneels at the water's edge. She is not crying. She has no tears left. She is watching her hands—her silver hands, her cold hands, her hands that killed and loved and lost.

Mama takes a step toward her. Stops.

MAMA (her voice ancient, cracked, gentle): Hija…

(Daughter...)

SUGAR (not looking up): Vete, Mamá.

(Go away, Mama.)

MAMA: No puedo dejarte así.

(I can't leave you like this.)

SUGAR: No estoy así. Estoy... como debo estar.

(I'm not like that. I am... how I should be.)

She rises. Turns. Her eyes are fully silver now—not flickering, not fighting, just steady. The transformation is complete. She is not Valentina. She is not the queen. But she is not human anymore either.

Mama sees this. Backs away.

MAMA: Diosa misericordiosa... lo que has perdido…

(Merciful Goddess... what you have lost...)

SUGAR (almost smiling): Lo que he perdido, Mamá, no es nada comparado con lo que he ganado.

(What I have lost, Mom, is nothing compared to what I have gained.)

She spreads her arms. The Vega returns—not the Vega of the swamp, but something new, something that contains both the Resonator's decay and the Vega's shimmer, something that is entirely Sugar’s.

SUGAR [cont.]: No soy la reina. No soy la madre. No soy nada de lo que el Barón quería que fuera.

(I am not the queen. I am not the mother. I am nothing of what the Baron wanted me to be.)

She looks at the water where Valentina disappeared. Her face is still, but something moves behind her silver eyes—grief, perhaps, or love, or memory.

SUGAR [cont.]: Pero tampoco soy la mujer que entró en este pantano. Esa mujer murió con Langston. Esa mujer se ahogó en el barro. Esa mujer... la maté yo misma.

(But neither am I the woman who entered this swamp. That woman died with Langston. That woman drowned in the mud. That woman... I killed her myself.)

She raises her hands. The dead rise from the water—not threatening, not serving, just present. They are not her army. They are her witnesses.

SUGAR [cont.]: Mírenme. Miren lo que queda. Miren lo que eligió quedarse.

(Look at me. Look at what remains. Look at what chose to stay.)

She walks to the edge of the water. The dead part to let her pass.

SUGAR [cont.]: No hay corona. No hay trono. No hay reino que gobernar. Solo... esto.

(There is no crown. There is no throne. There is no kingdom to rule. Only... this.)

She touches the water. It ripples. The silver spreads from her fingers, through the water, through the mud, through the roots of the cypress trees.

SUGAR [cont.]: Soy la podredumbre. Soy la raíz. Soy la tierra que recuerda.

(I am the rot. I am the root. I am the earth that remembers.)

She turns back to Mama. Her face is terrible and beautiful and sad.

SUGAR [cont.]: Dile al Barón que su reina es la que eligió. Dile que yo... yo soy otra cosa.

(Tell the Baron that his queen is the one he chose. Tell him that I... I am something else entirely.)

She walks into the water. It rises around her—her knees, her waist, her chest. The Dead watch. Mama watches.

At her throat, the water stops. She stands in the center of the clearing, half-submerged, silver-eyed, eternal.

SUGAR (her final words, spoken to the Dawn, to the Swamp, to the woman she lost, to what she now is): Soy la Colina. Soy el Azúcar. Soy la dulzura que crece sobre la tumba de los que me hicieron daño.

(I am the Hill. I am the Sugar. I am the sweetness that grows upon the grave of those who hurt me.)

She looks up at the rising sun—pale, indifferent, beautiful.

SUGAR [cont.]: Y algún día... cuando los vivos me hayan olvidado... cuando la ciudad sea pantano otra vez... cuando no quede nadie que recuerde mi nombre…

(And someday... when the living have forgotten me... when the City is a swamp once again... when no one remains to remember my name...)

She smiles—a small, terrible, beautiful smile.

SUGAR [cont.]: Todavía estaré aquí. Esperando. Recordando. Siendo.

(I will still be here. Waiting. Remembering. Being.)

The water closes over her head. She is gone.

The dead stand silent. Mama stands alone at the water's edge.

The Vega plays one last time—a single, shimmering note that holds for a long moment, then fades, slowly, into silence.

The sun rises. The mist lifts. The swamp is just a swamp. The dead are just shadows.

But something remains. Something in the water. Something in the roots. Something in the silver light that catches on the surface of the water, just for a moment, just for a breath.

Sugar is there. Sugar is everywhere. Sugar is the hill, the swamp, the memory of vengeance and love and loss.

The stage bleeds to white.

Silence.

Curtain.

(THE END)

[batdreaming]

Kagehira