#Adult Sex Toys in Belgium | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

irwinkitten · 5 years ago

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men of mayhem | a.i |

notes: thank you for the support on part one! it honestly meant the world since i’ve been working on this for idea for a while now. this part isn’t as lengthy as part one, but part three will certainly make up for it. chances are this will be wither four or five parts depending on how the last part gets written and whether i need to split it or not. for those who may or may not be confused by the timeline, i have a small list of what’s happened.

—Michelle and Ashton are both born in 1978

—Become friends at the age of five in 1983

—Her younger brother Matthew (Matty) is born in 1992

—Heads off to university at 18 in 1996 (First four years as an undergrad and then 3 years for law school)

—They get engaged at the end of her first year. They’re both 19.

—Ashton and Michelle get married at 20 in the June of 1998

—Michelle returns to university in the fall of 1999.

—Michelle and Jen accept their internships in the January of 2000

warnings: none word count: 2.6

part one

The honeymoon was everything Michelle had dreamed of her life becoming. Travelling each state, spending some days there before moving onto the next one, it was a thrill of the unknown.

Only twice did Ashton have to use his name to get them through territories. His face was known enough that a few of the locals thought they’d get something. Most of them got a few bullets and a warning to the others.

When the Irwin’s left the States, both of them relaxed much more. Ashton knew of a group over in Ireland, however he knew better than to try and antagonise them on their own soil. The last thing he wanted was to cause problems overseas and Michelle had been firm that they were staying in Dublin for their duration.

Not one to argue with his best friend and wife, they kept the trip to Northern Ireland short before making the trip across to the UK. When they’d arrived in the UK, Christmas was fast approaching, only three weeks away. That was when they both suffered with bouts of homesickness. Long distance calls didn’t do much and it was going to be their first Christmas together, away from their families.

They travelled up and down the country, exploring the small seaside towns in the south before partying with strangers up in the north. It was a thrill for the both of them with so many new sights that they’d made the decision to see the new year whilst they were in the UK.

Ashton could see his wife thriving in this environment, especially since she’d made good on her plans to have sex in every state and every country they were visiting. And for a brief second, he imagined what it would be like if they immigrated.

But it was at night, on the quieter ones when they needed the peace away from the busy streets, when he was holding her tightly as she told him how much she missed their parents and Matty. It was too far and he knew that he’d get bored of a relaxed lifestyle.

Both of them made sure to send him postcards from every place they visited. When they had the chance to call, Matty was always crowing about how he was making a book so he could show his classmates where they’d been. Ashton had laughed and told him to wait till he saw his gifts.

January brought in the year 1999 and they crossed into mainland Europe on the channel tunnel. Ashton managed to surprise his wife with a hotel that overlooked the Eiffel tower as well as bookings for top restaurants in Paris before they ventured north into Belgium.

As much as they both missed riding the bikes back home, they’d gone with the sensible route of hiring a car, making their trips easier. It certainly helped that once they passed through Belgium into the Netherlands, they’d become adept at getting by.

It was certainly an experience for the Irwin’s, especially in Germany. As they travelled over to Berlin, they decided to make more days out of their trip. They knew that there was a time limit now, they needed to get back in time for Michelle to register for her fall classes.

With that in mind, they worked their way around Europe. From Germany they travelled through Poland and spent time in Warsaw before travelling down to Czechia so they could visit Prague before going through Slovakia and into Hungary. From there they went west into Austria before finally reaching Italy which had been one of their main destinations. The plan was to spend a month in Italy before travelling to Spain via France and then back to the UK once more.

The last few months seemed like a dream to both of them. Michelle almost regretted the fact that she had to go back for fall classes, but when they returned home greeted by their families when they arrived from the airport-suitcases in tow-it was a relieved Michelle who greeted their parents and her little brother, the four adults asking rapid fire questions to the younger couple.

Matty listened to both of their stories, the adventures that they had, the smaller trips that they made in the countries to the long drives. He was beside himself with glee when, after each story about each country, he was given small gifts from those countries.

Before either of them knew it, Michelle was back in the city and Ashton was back on his bike, joining the various smuggling runs that were going on.

The travelling had only heightened his instincts, stopping standard runs from turning into bloody massacres.

That was when Bert finally made his decision, knowing that after a few more years in the business, he’d be able to leave the club in safe hands.

Michelle fell back into her classes with ease. Although some of her classmates were the same, there were new faces as well.

Jen had come over for wine and dinner after the first week and thanked her for all of the beautiful postcards that had been sent to her.

“Did you really think you weren’t going to be kept up to date on my travels? Especially having so much sex all year?” They shared giggles as Michelle moved from her spot on the sofa, picking up one of the last few bags that she’d brought with her.

“What’s in the bag, Chelle?” Jen nearly dropped her wine as Michelle threw it to her.

“Open it and see.” Came the playful response as she retook her spot and Jen eyed her curiously before opening the bag.

Dipping her hand in, she pulled out the most beautiful scarf she’d ever seen, the colours vibrant and the fabric soft. Happily, the other woman abandoned her wine to really get a feel for the scarf, her eyes moving to Michelle in almost an awe like manner.

“Where did you get this from?” Jen breathed, placing the scarf on her lap before grabbing the bag to see if there was anything else. They were small trinkets; little snow globes and a small toy.

“I got the scarf when we were in Czechia. We met a lady in the UK who had recently travelled there and we’d told her that we were planning to go there as well. She told us to at least stop in Prague, collect some scarves as gifts. She said that she bought some for her daughter and nieces, and it’d been one of the better and more practical gifts.” Michelle explained as Jen stroked her fingers over the scarf once more.

“She’s certainly right. Oh I can’t wait to be able to wear this when it gets colder.” This prompted another giggle before they moved into the kitchen to eat.

The year began to fly by and as they started to venture into the courthouses, Michelle was beginning to win her cases that were presented. She was beginning to get recognised and requested, which had surprised her tutors, but they encouraged her, especially when Jen began to carve her own path.

It was no surprise to either women when they were offered Internships at different law firms, both of them surpassing the expectations of the class. Both offers had been made at the start of 2000, and both women toasted this to the start of a better decade.

It was the first year that she had all of their families come to visit during her summer off from university. Ashton stayed for the duration, her brother travelling up for the occasional weekend with Calum who did a few runs in between and kept Ashton up to date with things that couldn’t be discussed over the phone.

It was during this period when Ashton had a second moment of consideration to the thought of moving the club, but he knew that the police in the city weren’t so easy to bribe. Michelle had sensed his hesitation and when he mentioned it, the look on her face spoke volumes to him.

“If you do that Irwin, you’re not the man that I married. And anyway, you most likely won’t become the club President til long after I move back, so get those thoughts outta your head.”

And it was easy for him to switch them off, to forget that the thoughts even existed in his mind for a few moments. They were moments forgotten, replaced with moments of excitement at the prospect of his wife finally coming home.

When normality returned for Michelle in the fall, it only highlighted to her how much she missed her home. She may have lived in that house, but it wasn’t home by a long shot.

Her school years began to slip away from her. 2000 slipped into 2001, and as her days became routine, 2002 crept up on her. Life became steady for them both, despite their own disruptive lives with work and school on Michelle’s part and the club on Ashton’s part. But they worked through it.

Numerous times Calum showed up instead of Ashton, being her protective detail every so often which alerted her that things were happening back home which potentially put her in danger.

Sometimes he showed up without any warning and those were her favourite times, especially when Jen had taken a shining to Calum. Michelle had quietly warned her friend that Cal’s life was not for the faint of heart and Jen had smirked at her friend in reply before asking if she could show him around the city.

Michelle all but shoved him out of the door laughing when that had happened.

A few months on from that, she’d learned from Jen that she wasn’t after anything serious with Calum and they’d come to the mutual agreement for it after the first night. Michelle had only been partially relieved and still rolled her eyes whenever they crossed paths whilst he was there and they’d flirt as if they’d never met.

After a few months of this, some of the guys in her class had seen sides to the ladies that they never realised was there. It’d been a long week for Michelle, constantly on edge whenever her and Jen went out. That edge served her well when she spotted one of the guys from her course trying to convince her staggering friend to let him take her home.

She was certain his chest was sporting a bruise from her elbow.

Calum had shown up that weekend, and seeing her taut like a spring, he didn’t take long to convince her to go out with him.

“It’ll be safe, doll. Would Jen want to join us?” The surprise on his face as she scowled at the floor briefly was missed entirely by Michelle.

“It’s been a rough week for her. Let’s just go out, you and me. Like old times.” He snorted at that but nodded before she vanished upstairs to change.

Calum was unfamiliar with the bars, he’d not really bar hopped in the city before, but Michelle had a level of comfort and familiarity with some of the bartenders, so he let her lead the way.

Conversation was light and easy between the two. Calum knew to steer away from her cases and she knew better than to ask about any of the runs in such a public setting. But like always, there was something to talk about and more often than not, Michelle had taken to teasing him about Jen.

“Please tell me she told you that she got a noise complaint from her neighbours?” Calum laughed at that as he paid for their drinks. They were on bar three an the alcohol was leaving a pleasant buzz. Whereas Michelle was more likely to get herself plastered, Calum knew better, especially with the gun that was tucked into the back of his jeans.

“She failed to mention that to me. Maybe I should drop by tomorrow after I’ve had dinner with you, see if we can get another complaint before I head back.” Michelle laughed at the cheeky grin before she felt someone grab her arm.

“Stay with me sweetheart, you don’t need a gang banger like him for a night. I can show you a real good night if you’ll let me.” It took a minute for her to register the voice, her mind finally placing the name to his face as well.

“Fuck off Evan. You know I’m married.” She held up her left hand and he scoffed.

“Hey gang banger, you fucking her on the side or is she your main piece?” Fury ripped through Michelle but before she could verbally flay him, she felt Calum’s towering presence and smirked as Evan’s face dropped.

“You wanna say that about my sister again?” Panic in his eyes made Michelle snort as he tried to step back, but she stuck her foot out, making him stumble.

“Take it outside.” The bartender warned and Calum simply nodded, grabbing Evan by his jacket and pulling him outside. Michelle followed, making sure that he wouldn’t get himself arrested.

“Apologise to her now.” His voice was harsh with his demand and she watched in a stony silence as Evan stuttered out his apology.

“It was-was just a j-joke. I’m sorry if I-if I offended you.” Calum glanced back to Michelle and it finally hit her where she really recognised him from.

“You weren’t apologising last week when you tried to drag my friend home with you and ended up with my elbow in your chest. So no, that bullshit of an apology doesn’t float with me, sunshine.” She snapped, her eyes meeting Calum’s briefly.

It took a second for it to dawn on his face who she meant and he turned to face Evan.

“Maybe this will be a reminder of how not to treat women, piece of shit.” The first punch was landed before Evan could fight back, the second managed to make a cut and break his nose, blood dripping down. The third one knocked him out.

Michelle didn’t hesitate to hand him a napkin to clean off some of the blood before he offered his arm to her, making her snort as he gauged where they were for a second before going in the rough direction of where he knew her house was.

“So how are your parents doing? I know they asked after me when I didn’t come home again this summer.” Calum just laughed.

“They know that you’re in your last two years and with the Internship they don’t blame you for staying in the city. Momma Hood wants you back for Christmas this year, no arguments. Keeps saying the town feels too empty without you.” This had her groaning but also agreeing with his mother's demand.

No one could say to his mom and not feel guilty. She learned the trick of making people feel like they’d kicked a puppy if they said no to her.

When school recommenced in the fall, she’d spoken with Charlie, her employer, and managed to request that she have the following summer off to return home, and the agreement was in principal, as long as she remained contactable for any cases that they needed the full team or a fresh set of eyes for.

It worked in her favour that she rarely took any vacation time off and had been available last minute for some of their bigger cases. With that promise of the summer off, Charlie also told her that there was going to be a position on his team, waiting for her once she graduated.

That news had been welcomed gleefully and gratefully accepted.

Getting to the last year was going to be a breeze, especially knowing that she had a job waiting for her on the other side of her studies. For now, she was content to get to the summer and finally get some time off with her family and spend time with her little brother.

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onlineadultsextoystore · 1 year ago

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unlikelygladiatorgalaxy · 8 years ago

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The Night

For: still-intrepid

Pairing: Hungary/Belgium

Content Notes: Non-graphic sex

Darkness.

It could be so terrifying. It could contain countless monsters and horrors, the worst were the ones disguised in the form of man. It kept children up with phantoms more real than their young minds realized. It dimmed the warnings that adults used to keep themselves safe.

Yet, for all the danger the dark contained, it was a thing of beauty too. Without it the splendor of the moon and stars would be a sad mystery. Sweet dreams were born in the hearts of slumbering man. Celebrations were held. Children could whisper secret to a beloved toy or pet from beneath their covers. Lovers could meet away from those eyes that would intrude.

Yes, for all of its danger and the fear it could contain, the darkness was just as valued as the light.

The night was truly the friend of two particular women. They held faces as young as any maid’s, yet in their bones was weight and knowledge surpassing that of any wise man or woman. It would be romantic to say that the only light came from the heavens above, but that was not true. The cities, the cars, humanity itself provided the light that guided their paths.

They had replayed these nights more times than there were stars in the heavens. A place would be chosen, it could be anything from a great metropolis to a tiny hamlet. One of them would arrive first, alternating who every time. She would take a room for the night, someplace modest but clean, that put privacy at a premium. The woman would wait in her room until the hour had come. Then a peculiar candle would be lit and placed on the windowsill. Next to it would be a flower, either a tulip or a red poppy, depending on who was the expected guest.

With the candle and the flower as a sign, the expected guest would know that she had found the right room, that within it was her beloved. As soon as she would enter the room she would be showered with kisses and caresses. There would be a madness between the two women as they struggled to remove the other’s clothing by candlelight. They had removed everything from heavy metal armor, to corsets laced most tightly, and even jeans these past few decades. Fingers and tongues would explore every place, though every corner had been long ago mapped most thoroughly. The passion was still there as bright as it was on the first of one of these nights. They would whisper endearments in each other’s ears as they held each other close. The names they were most well-known by would not do for such an intimate night as tonight and they had no name such as a human would have.

Morning would come, far too soon for the liking of either woman. They would linger, cradle each other in arms strong and sweet. Soft stories would be told. They would make promises between the two of them. Breakfast would be shared between the two, and they had shared almost every sort of breakfast that one could imagine such timeless beings sharing over the centuries.

Then the world would turn on. There was no more time to be a pair of women who deeply loved and adored each other. It was time to go back to being Hungary and Belgium. They would return to their homes. They would listen to their bosses. They would protect their people. Sometimes the two who loved each other so much would be forced to be enemies, if they were fortunate it would only be at a sporting event, but sometimes it would be from across opposite sides of a diplomat’s table or, worse yet, at other sides of a battlefield with sword, or gun, or whatever other way humanity had developed for killing at hand.

For the sake of what they were, of what they represented, they would shut down and hide that part of themselves away from themselves and the world. During the day they were more than any single man or woman on the planet. They would keep their people safe from harm, from the monsters that lurked. Yet as each night came they would be reminded of the promise that another blessed night would come to the two of them. That special night when they had the chance to cast off their names and go by something else: My love.

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nickyshukla1 · 5 years ago

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miller99mohammad-blog · 6 years ago

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bellizrealtimeupdate-blog · 7 years ago

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callumf8067603-blog · 8 years ago

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onlineadultsextoystore · 1 year ago

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nofomoartworld · 8 years ago

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The Dead Minitel Orchestra

Graffiti Research Lab France, The Dead Minitel Orchestra

Graffiti Research Lab France, The Dead Minitel Orchestra (Minitel Pong)

In 1982, the French public telecommunications company launched a revolutionary system combining the telephone and information technology. It was a beige, plastic box and it was called the Minitel.

The screen-keyboard set was delivered for free to French homes. People could electronically check the weather or their horoscope, find local restaurants, apply to university, book a holiday, buy shoes, monitor their bank accounts, etc. They could even chat online and have some rudimentary forms of cybersex. It was the world wide web before the world wide web and actually it wasn’t even world wide because it was limited to the territory of France. I grew up in Belgium feeling left out, envious and cheated.

Yves Denais using the Minitel on his dairy farm in the Brittany region of France. Photo: Ed Alcock for The New York Times

It was an avant-garde domestic technology and millions of people were still using it when France Telecom decided to pull the plug on the service in 2012.

In 2013, members of the Graffiti Research Lab France decided to set up a DEad Minitel Orchestra, a series of live performance and artistic installations that explore the sonic and visual afterlife of the defunct Videotex online service. The result is experimental, joyful, often charming and sometimes absurd.

vimeo

DEad Minitel Orchestra, performance at Photophore festival, 2015

Minitel sex ad in Roman Polanski’s 1992 movie Bitter Moon

The Dead Minitel Orchestra is a project by Antoine Bonnet, Martin De Bie and Jerome Saint-Clair. I’ve been loving what the G.R.L. F.R. have been doing for years so the DeMO gave me the perfect excuse to contact them and ask for their opinions on quaint devices and extinct technologies:

Hi Jerome, Martin and Antoine! I grew up in French-speaking Belgium and was hyper envious of all these 36 15 services French people seemed to enjoy. Each time i hear the name Ulla, i still think of a brief sequence from a film by Roman Polanski. Minitel seemed to be the acme of sophistication and modernity at the time. Is the Minitel still present in French contemporary culture? Has some kind of nostalgic cult developed around it?

The Minitel was definitely a thing in France in the 80s. Imagine a pre-WWW area (year 1982) where suddenly every person with a phone landline can go get a revolutionary device for free from the national phone company (named PTT at the time) and connect to online services.

Some of those services were free to connect to (ie: white and yellow pages), some others were super expensive pay-per-minute (forums, adult and porn chat services among others). Looking back, it feels strange to realize, while watching archived national news dealing with the Minitel, that there was a real nationalist pride accompanying it. There was a real struggle to stay competitive against others countries in terms of technology and industry, to remain autonomous. Remember, every country had its computer company (Olivetti, Sinclair, …)

As a consequence of this mass adoption and national exception feeling (you know how French people are), everyone above 20 yo in France has a story with the Minitel. For the youngest ones, it’s the weird computer sitting near the telephone at their grand-parents’ place. For the others it’s the first connected terminal they have ever used. And it’s true.

Each time we perform or exhibit Minitels for a show, we notice a real nostalgia in the eyes of the audience. So much nostalgia that we are sometimes thinking of doing a “People staring at Minitels” project. We would end up with totally different portraits than Kyle McDonald‘s People staring at computers.

It also sometimes becomes an intergenerational transmission thing. Kids (who are too young to be aware about it) are usually super curious about it and their parents are always proud to tell them what it is and the relation they had with the Minitel. Maybe some sort of “finally a technological item my kids don’t know about and that I can explain” effect.

Despite all this, we wouldn’t say there is now a cult developed around it. But it was definitely part of people’s everyday life. Not only as a device they used, but also through TV and billboard ads and also many wild ads for the “pink minitel” services showing nude women, along the roads, in abandoned gas stations … The Minitel was also present during turning points of people’s life: you were able to check online if you passed the baccalaureat, or register for University. And that’s the kind of story we hear each time. The Minitel is our digital Madeleine de Proust.

Internationally speaking, views are quite divergent. Envy for some like you, Régine, and sometimes curiosity. But also jokes. Golan Levin told me he knows some. I’d be curious to hear them.

Graffiti Research Lab France, The Dead Minitel Orchestra

Graffiti Research Lab France, The Dead Minitel Orchestra (minitel Boobs)

Antoine: When I was kid (I was around 8, I guess) , there were huge ads for “minitel rose” on the roads. They were everywhere and particularly on the roads leading to highways (Paris peripherique). I really enjoyed seeing these ads because when I was seeing them, it meant HOLIDAYS !!

I never got curious about these ULLA, CUM,… services but I really liked the way these ads were placed under dark spots (under bridges, in corners,..), how they were aging, losing colors, ungluing or scratched,… The girls on the pictures were almost naked but it never shocked me… I think I didn’t notice until I became a teenager.

Martin: I remember my parents using it to access information when I was a kid. It was some kind of mysterious device I hadn’t really access to, except when I was using it by mimicry, more as a toy, without even connecting to any service (hopefully for my parents’ phone bill). It’s only later when I was 15 and that I did connect under my mother’s supervision to check school grades that I started to realize how it could be used for. I really understood how revolutionary it was when I first experienced the Internet, a few years later. Being able to use it now, in my own artistic practice, is way more satisfying than typing pointlessly on a bizarre device.

Jerome: I personally remember going to the post office (the phone company and post office were the same national company at the time) with the paper my parents received in the mail to go get a Minitel. And also some years later take it back to get a newer version, probably the Minitel 1B. I remember my father checking the National lottery results and my mother placing orders on La Redoute (a mail order company).

youtube

Ad for ‘online sex’ service 3615 ULLA, 2003

Does the Minitel have some specific, technological or other, features that make it particularly interesting to use to generate sound and images? Or is it producing the same kind of audio and images as any other type of old bits of electronics?

It is worse than what you can imagine. What’s funny is that people’s memory tend to be biased and blurred with later computers or game console they used.

In fact, the Minitel does a single and monotone beep. It’s not even 8 bit music capable. On a graphical point of view, it has 2 display modes (text and graphics), using grayscale colors (late models, difficult to find allow color though). In addition to that, the graphical mode is not even pixel based but rather character based, with, for each block of character, a 2×3 stack of rectangles whose color can be either the foreground or background color of the character. This explains why it has its own aesthetic in terms of graphics and that’s what makes it so interesting.

Graffiti Research Lab France, The Dead Minitel Orchestra

Why is it the Dead Minitel Orchestra instead of just the Minitel Orchestra? Does the ‘Dead” word refer to the fact that you’ve completely re-purposed and modified the functioning of the device? Or is it there to highlight that it’s one of those dead tech that came to be supplanted by another one?

We picked “dead” for two reasons. The first one because we wanted to use the De.M.O. acronym, which is also a reference to the demo scene.

The second one because the Minitel, in its original form, is actually dead. It is just a passive terminal, by design, and all the services (remote servers) have been unplugged on June 30th 2012.

As a consequence, we’re not murderers but rather Victor Frankenstein trying to resurrect a dead body of electronics. It is repurposed and its functioning was modified because we had no other choice if we wanted to be able to keep using it.

It has not been totally supplanted by another technology. It kept living along with the Internet until Orange decided to cut the services. Lots of people were still using it, back in 2012. Mostly because those persons were used to it and they had a single use case: car mechanics checking parts availability, farmers having a look at the weather forecasts, individuals checking the stock market, …

We used “Dead” because we start working with the Minitel a few weeks before Orange shuts down the service on June 30th 2012. Our first Minitel exhibition was a tribute, a death notice of the service. We remake some emblematic “3615” pages and create some visuals and animation to say goodbye. Since this exhibition we worked to “get the hell out of it” to get some kind of DemoScene practice with it, we even tried to modify the electronic to generate some generative visuals.

The idea of making music came later, and the name came naturally, from a dead technology we make experimental music as an orchestra, and using visuals and interfaces to get control over sound as a D.e.M.O.

vimeo

DEad Minitel Orchestra, performance at Plateforme Gallery, Paris in 2013

Graffiti Research Lab France, The Dead Minitel Orchestra (Minitels Electrocardio)

Is the DeMo a comment or reflection on planned obsolescence and on our throwaway culture?

We wouldn’t say it was planned obsolescence. It doesn’t fit the “give it for free and make money on the services” business model of the Minitel. It was built to last. Hopefully for us, the Minitels we own are still working, more than 25 years after they were manufactured. It’s not too bad when you know that CRT (cathode ray tube) screens have a life expectancy of 20 years. Of course, some of them are a bit tired. The almost-dead-CRT effect is not bad though. However, sooner or later, all of our Minitels’ screen will be dead. We’ll have to figure out something else to workaround that.

What are the challenges of working with a dead technology like this one?

There are indeed various challenges. The first one was to find a starting point. Florent Deloison pointed us to Fabrice, Renaud, PG and Phil (from the Toulouse Tetalab) Webcam to Minitel project. That’s how it all began. We also found some good technical documentation.

We made the Tetalab’s original code evolve to work offline and we ended up creating a dedicated Minitel library for Arduino. Mostly because we wanted to be able to easily recreate classical Minitel screens: 36-15 ULLA, the yellow pages landing screen. And, moving forward, a Minitel-like Nyan Cat, a non playable Pong and an intermittently flattening electrocardiogram (using the single beep of the Minitel). Our goal at that time was to repurpose the Minitel as a low-tech photo frame. Either to host the screens mentioned above or for our 36-15 Selfie project.

vimeo

36-15 Selfie

Later came the idea to use it in a totally different way and make music/sound with it. At the very beginning we were using screen luminosity variations (either by circuit bending the graphical chip or by displaying random characters) to generate or modulate sound. We later used a homemade MIDI clock to sync the Minitels. In our last setup, we only use the Minitel and its keyboard as an interface and everything is sent to Raspberry Pis handling both MIDI and audio output. We’re also using one Minitel to display graphics and use it as a source for realtime VJ effects through another Raspberry equipped with a camera. The project is shifting to include more of the Minitel culture, using sound samples of Minitel TV ads or news saying how great the Minitel technology was. That’s really a work in progress.

Each time we have a performance planned is an opportunity to move forward on this project.

vimeo

Jerome Saint-Clair and Antoine Bonnet for GRL FR, Traffic Booster

Also and completely unrelated Traffic Booster! I find it hilarious, maybe because i don’t even have a driving license. It must be one of the most irritating invention for car drivers though. You could get lynched here in Italy for setting up something like that at a traffic light. I suspect that people in Paris where you’ve installed it have not been very amused by it. Why did you make the Traffic Booster? How obvious is it to drivers that the beep doesn’t actually come from an impatient driver?

Jerome: That’s a project people really enjoy. I mean they enjoy it when they watch the video, not as victims. In the meantime I’m pretty sure drivers didn’t even notice it was automatic. They are so used to stress and angriness.

I made the traffic booster as a reaction to the need for speed (not the video game) in our society. When you live in a large city you’re absorbed by its pace. You have no other choice than to conform with it. If you don’t comply, it makes people angry. Try to walk slowly in the corridors of the metro when people are rushing to the office in the morning and you’ll notice. Same thing on the road. Driver will put themselves or others at risk to save only a few seconds, without realizing that they’ll have to stop at the next traffic lights and actually not gain time at all. This mechanism applies to a lot of things in our occidental societies. Plus there are devices and rules to force you to do so and to record that. Fixed office hours along with time recorders, personal objectives along with variable pay, Uber-like companies along with smartphone apps, … In the end, technology is not a real progress but is used to control people. And people don’t step down. They comply and compete. The traffic booster is there to remind that: beware of what’s forcing you to go faster without giving you the time to actually step aside, look around and think of what’s really going on here.

Thanks Jerome, Antoine and Martin!

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3one3 · 8 years ago

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The Sequel - 774

Talking To Girls

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea and BVB players, and random awesome OC’s

(okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“You want more coffee while she’s up?” André asked the very comfortable girl using him as a lounger, who herself was serving as one for a sleeping child. The Schü Family Pile was a result of too much eating, too much cooking, and too much playing, in respect to each level in it. The biggest one put himself on the couch after his turkey dinner and declared himself too stuffed to move. Christina sat between his legs and turned him into a backrest as soon as she was done cleaning up from that dinner and putting away the leftovers, exhausted from making and serving so many dishes to so many people. The littlest one tried to persevere through his impending tryptophan coma to play basketball but eventually walked over to the corner of the couch and asked for a lift. Even the dogs were passed out.

“No thank you,” the rider yawned. I won’t be able to sleep if I have more coffee and then I’ll be tired tomorrow and tomorrow is Boxing Day football! I’m too excited for that to ruin it being cranky, she reasoned. Plus we’re going to Juan’s for dinner and that’s going to take forever, and there will be tons of people there, and Tay Tay’s parents, and I’m going to have like...a whole balancing act to perform between Juan’s parents treating me like the daughter-in-law they want and keeping that from boyfriend, and Taylor, and... You know, this dinner is going to be more complicated than I initially anticipated. Suddenly there was a vignette in her head in which she chatted and laughed with Juan’s mom about old times or something while Taylor and André poured each other drinks and glared with intense indignation and Juan avoided making eye contact with the author’s parents.

“Why are the Die Hard movies considered Christmas movies?” Melanie asked from the middle of the couch. She was on her back with her head on Rafa’s lap, and Christina’s cashmere blanket. “They show them a hundred times during the holidays.”

“They take place at Christmastime,” her dad pointed out. He had the other corner of the couch and looked remarkably similar in posture to André despite not having two other people between his legs. “The bad guys brought their guns into the airport in gift-wrapped boxes, remember?”

“No.”

“Pay better attention,” André chirped. His mom handed him a full glass of water from behind the couch, and Christina eyed it suspiciously.

“If you drink that after the giant cup of coffee you’re gonna have to pee in 5 minutes and that means I have to get up and that means Luke has to get up and do you understand how much we don’t want to get up?” she asked, borderline disgruntled. Her body was virtually asleep already except for her mouth and the hand rubbing her son’s head. He was drooling on her. And it wasn’t so much that she was so comfortable and sedate that she couldn’t fathom having to evacuate her spot, but that she’d been waiting for Lukas to give her the time of day since he got up that morning. He was way more into toys and wrapping paper, breakfast, playing, seeking attention from his aunt, uncle, and grandparents, throwing handfuls of mashed potatoes from his highchair onto the floor for the dogs, trying to climb into his wagon so that he could reach the ornaments on the Christmas tree, and attempting to disappear out of sight of whoever was supposed to be watching him because his new thing was that he didn’t want anyone to see when he was pooping in his diaper. He had to hide somewhere, and then he tried to pretend like it didn’t bother him that his diaper was full and he could go back to playing, but it was only a matter of minutes before the mess became deeply upsetting and he presented himself to an adult with an unhappy frown and pleading eyes on the verge of tears. Christina was usually that adult, and she just wanted some time with him besides changing his diaper.

She considered it some kind of miraculous blessing that she could look at him and not just think about what would happen to him if his parents split, or if she never got herself back on track. Those issues and all the ones related to them dominated so much of her headspace that she expected it to infiltrate her mother/son relationship too. In fact, the consequences were what drove so much of her anxiety. Everything was perfect when Lukas came over and wanted to sit with her though. He was like insulation from all the bad things. Finally she noticed the good ones- the Christmas tree was twinkling, the fire was going, she could feel André’s stomach trying to start digesting his enormous dinner, they were all under a lovely knit blanket, she got nice presents, had pretty good sex, her new laptop was pristine and fast and delightful, she totally killed it with the turkeys, and her mind was quiet. The only improvement she could come up with was the elimination of the rest of the people in the house, but that was really nitpicking.

“Chris, are you riding tomorrow?” Rafa inquired during a commercial break, not that anyone was observing any kind of no-talking-during-the-movie rule. The men had to point out every unlikely, unrealistic, and impossible plot point.

“I should, yeah. I’m sort of waiting for an excuse to present itself though. Would you like to help? Do you have clothes with you?”

“I have everything for Mechelen, so yes.” The Italian and his wife were headed for a World Cup qualifier in Belgium on Tuesday.

“I’m sort of supposed to do Stef’s horses too, so you could help with my guys.”

“What’s wrong with Stef that she can’t ride her horses and do yours too?” André interjected. He knew Kyle had off because he worked on Christmas, but he thought the other rider should have been around to lighten the exercising load so that Christina could have another day to rest.

“She’s in Germany, for starters, and she doesn’t work for me.”

“She went home? She told Mario she didn’t have time off.”

“Oooooo,” Melanie chimed in in the manner of a class full of students when one is summoned to the principal’s office.

“I’m sure she just wanted to go see her family. They’re in the opposite end of the country. Didn’t Mario go away anyway?”

“Yes but he invited her.”

“Meh. She’s been posting photos from Munich so it’s probably not a secret,” Christina shrugged. She reached for her phone on the next cushion to show André and to verify that she wasn’t imagining things. She didn’t want to be responsible if Stefanie was trying to keep her location secret from Mario. There were a couple of texts waiting for her. One was Aidan’s return “Merry Christmas” message. There was an “all good” from Kyle about the horses being in for the night. There was also one from Juan.

“Happy Christmas! I hope everything you wanted was under your tree :) Call me tonight if you can. If not I see you tomorrow hopefully with 3 more points and another W for the streak :)”

“How come you had to text him to say you were at the door?” André asked, his voice low. He was reading over her shoulder. The penultimate message on the screen was from the night before.

“Because his cousins slept over and they were all asleep.” His wife double-tapped the Home button and swiped over to Instagram to look for Stefanie’s posts. But then Lukas started to wake up. He made a kind of gurgling sound and moved his arms, which were around Christina’s torso. He’s soooooo cute when he’s sleepy, she thought, ignoring the fact that she had a crucial decision to make, whether to allow him to fully wake up, or to rub his head or his back and hope he went back to sleep. He sat up enough to rub his little blue eyes. He looks more like Daddy every day. He’ll have the eye wrinkles. He’s all Schü. Thank god he got my ears though, she added as a qualifier while rubbing one of his ears and massaging his scalp behind it.

“Ready for bedtime, Mausi? Sleepy?” André asked him with a less delicate and tender head rub. Lukas squirmed until he was sort of on his hands and knees, and crawled up Christina’s body so that he was right at her face.

“Sleepy Mommy,” he replied with a tired sigh, much to the amusement of all the adults.

“She’s sleepy too,” his dad nodded.

“He means he wants to sleep with me, dumbass.” Christina puckered her lips at the 28lb blonde and he supplied an adorable kiss before collapsing on her chest, presumably to go back to sleeping.

“You’re going to have him calling everybody a dumbass.” Dad used two hands to shake her head.

“It would be funny if he just started calling you “dumbass”,” Melanie remarked. “Give me my juice, dumbass! Pass the ball, dumbass!”

“Tuchel has a copyright on that one,” Papa Schü chimed in. Christina cringed at the comment. That’s not nice. Don’t pick on him. One of the footballer’s hands was down at his side and she felt around for it to give it a reassuring squeeze. She didn’t like it when his dad made fun of him in ways that could be “real”. It was funny when everyone ganged up on him and made silly jokes about him missing shots or not playing, when the mood was right. To do it out of nowhere and in a manner that could be interpreted as not a joke wasn’t okay with her. André opened up his fingers so that hers would drop in between, and he held onto them.

“You should go put him down for the night while you can,” he suggested, having ignored the shots fired at him. “He’s already got the pajamas on and he’s out cold again. He won’t notice if you move him.”

“I’ll have to wake him up either way to do his teeth.”

“You could skip brushing for one night.”

“He had all that sugar today though- pancakes, candy canes, hot chocolate, stollen. It’s like a miracle he isn’t bouncing off the walls. And he wants to snuggle with me. Leave us alone. In 15 years he won’t even want to speak to me.”

“That’s nonsense. In 15 years, you’ll be the only female he can talk to,” the player snorted. “He’ll come to me and say, “Papa, I like this girl. How do I talk to her?” and I’ll say, “Fuck if I know. All I did at your age was play football. Ask your mom.” And you’ll make up some insane, complicated, cute thing for him to do for this girl but he’ll mess it up and look like a fool and he’ll come home defeated and you’ll make him a sandwich, spaghetti, and a baby greens salad and tell him the girl is a bitch anyway.”

“That is the most accurate prophecy I’ve ever heard,” the rider giggled. She tilted her head back and pushed her lips out again, and again got a Schü kiss.

“Half an hour and then bedtime for all of us. If you’re going to ride in the morning you better start early, because it’s going to take time to amass enough toys and clothing to keep him preoccupied and appropriately attired for 90 minutes of football out in the cold and then however long we’ll be at Juan’s. He needs a nice sweater or something for dinner, yeah? Or a collared shirt?”

“Yes he needs a wardrobe change between football and dinner. And we have to bring the booster seat. And the presents.” I’ve never brought him to a big dinner to dress up for before, Christina reflected. I hope he’s well behaved and that if Juan’s cousins are holy terrors that he doesn’t get any ideas. I wonder if his little bowtie still fits. I know he’s outgrown his blazer. A button-up with the bowtie and a cardigan would be cute. The big Schü will probably wear something nice to Stamford Bridge instead of jeans. They just can’t match. What am I even going to we-

“Half an hour, pretty girl.”

Mother and child got about 45 minutes before André threatened to cause an earthquake that would unseat them against their wishes. Lukas normally liked teeth brushing time. It was like a game to him. On Christmas is was an annoying chore he wanted no part of. He and his mom made a mess of his bathroom, and the fit he pitched had him so awake and alive again that it was hard to get him to go back to sleep. He was getting too big for her to be able to let him conk out in her lap when she read to him and then just pick him up and set him in the crib. She couldn’t do it smoothly anymore. He woke up, usually. Sometimes he was okay with just being put down in there and then having his story, or simply falling asleep on his own if he were tired enough. All he wanted to do that night was stay in Mommy’s lap, which made her feel quite good but was inconvenient nonetheless. André went looking for her when it seemed to take a long time to put the baby down, thinking perhaps she fell asleep in the chair too. She was just sitting with him and talking with him. Lukas didn’t have enough awareness or vocabulary yet to have a full conversation, but they could still communicate whole thoughts to one another. They were talking about love. Christina was trying to explain that the attachment he felt to his pony Dave, clutched close to his body, was love, and the companionship or friendship type of love, specifically. To illustrate the difference she had to explain her love for him too, and he listened intently, and smiled when she smiled or touched his nose or gave him a kiss. The footballer sat on the floor to listen for a while too, until his son finally gave in to his heavy eyelids and said “sleepy”, which was his way of requesting the crib.

André was obsessed with the mother/son relationship. He marveled at it. They were unbelievably close even though Christina wasn’t one of those moms who spends every minute of every day with her kid. Their communication was enviable. Lukas was smart enough to know that Daddy or “Papa”, as he preferred to be called, was the one he wanted and needed when Mommy wasn’t around, but given the choice between the two, she was who he looked for if he needed something, or he didn’t understand something. André was for fun or for safety if something was terribly frightening, like Grandpa’s sneeze attack. Christina was for everything else. The player was fine with his role. He loved his relationship with Lukas too. He knew it could never be the same as his girl’s. He just found theirs so special, and he loved to watch it in action. Most of all, he loved that she never let anything disturb it. No matter what kind of day she was having, or how busy she was, or tired, she never let it interfere with being Mom. She never even snapped at him when she was out of patience, or cranky. André was actually a little jealous of that, as he was never exempt from random or building fury. He never worried that everything she was struggling with would influence how she looked after their little one. It always made him feel good inside when his belief that she would be the best mother for his child was vindicated in a big way or even a small one. He credited her with all of the boy’s best qualities too- like his manners, his willingness to listen, and his kindness. Christina was the best person he knew, and that didn’t change with her changing fortunes. Seeing her with Lukas just proved it all the time, and made him so proud that she was his.

“Love you,” he told her with a lingering kiss and a heart full of those glowy feelings when he got into bed. The rider beat him under the covers by just seconds and hadn’t even gotten settled yet when he went in looking for her lips. He caught her in transition between sitting and turning on her side to get comfortable, and hovered on his hands and knees above. One lingering kiss became two, and then a longer, more intent liplock took over with tongues changing sides and lips moving about. Christina was taken by surprise by the commitment. It looked like an everyday goodnight kiss on approach. It landed like a special occasion kiss.

“I love you too,” she smiled as if to laugh when André withdrew his mouth from hers and used it to slowly kiss her forehead instead.

“I don’t think you understand how much I love you though, Prinzessin. You’re everything to me, even when I don’t act like it,” he explained with insistence. She straightened herself out so that she was flat on her back on the pillows underneath him, and reached under his arms and over his shoulders to encourage him to come closer and stop hovering. His hips sank down and his knees slid back.

“You’re very sweet out of nowhere. Was the turkey that good?” Christina asked without removing her hands, or letting go of her smile. His upper body has gotten so much stronger, like proportionally to the shrinking of the rest of him. His shoulders feel so much...harder? She tried to figure out what felt different hanging onto him that way, and the player with the improved gym schedule just watched her face.

“Yes, it was, but I love you always.” The BVB man with a much more serious gaze than the rider leaned down to kiss her some more, in that slow way that gives the opportunity for the participants to actually hear the kissing- to hear the seal break when lips had to come apart to reposition, to grab, to pull- that slow way that allows the participants to breathe normally- to keep the kiss steady, calm. But the one predominantly on the receiving end of the kiss was anything but calm on the inside. She experienced a rush of something inexplicable but divine. Whatever was flooding her veins made her heart expand, and her temperature warm up. Whatever that substance was made her feel the way she wanted to earlier, when her partner was more interested in orgasms and her butt than love and romance. He moved down onto his elbows, and then slid his arms between Christina and her pillow to hug her middle and use her chest as a pillow for himself.

It’s different when we’re together. This is why things will get better when she moves, André told himself while she rubbed his back. When I’m with her all the time and I see who is- who I know she is- then I understand better, and there’s...it’s like this big upside I know is there that makes me not care so much when she does things I don’t like. It’s so easy to forget that big upside when I’m not with her much to enjoy it. Chris isn’t innocent in all the fights and problems we’ve had lately, but I am better to her when we’re together. I can admit that. I’m not a good long distance partner, and the best parts of her don’t keep. They don’t last. A leftover filet mignon might taste okay sliced for lunch the day after you cook it. It doesn’t taste good a week later. Chris is the same. Whatever good thing I get from her when she visits just doesn’t keep for weeks and weeks, and it’s not strong enough to get over the phone.

“What’s with you guys tonight? Did you make me put Lulu Schü to bed just so you could take his place?” the rider joked, wrapping her legs around the bigger boy’s lower back. She used her heel to rub where his t-shirt met his Calvin Kleins. Can I tell her that we fight for cuddles with her when she pays attention to us all day or will that start World War 3? André didn’t want to sound as if he was complaining about his girl not giving him and Lukas enough attention regularly. He just wanted to give her a cute answer that might endear her to him more.

“Yes. I was jealous. I want to-“ He stopped short of explaining his agenda for the last few minutes of Christmas and the beginning of Boxing Day because the iPhone plugged in on Christina’s nightstand vibrated to announce a call.

“How much do you wanna bet that’s Juan?”

“Nothing. I’m not throwing my money away,” he winked. It was a gesture meant to conceal the irritation. His pillow reached for the phone and then turned the screen up to show him that it was in fact Juan, who was sporting reading glasses and a “stop trying to take my picture” expression in his contact photo. Christina pushed the top button and set it back down. “You can take it.”

“I’ll text him back. He’s just bored at Chelsea Harbour. What were you saying? You were jealous of your poor son who just wanted to snuggle with his mom?”

“Yes. I need snuggling too.” The player gently bit at the inside of her right breast, and left a wet outline of his mouth on her ultra-soft James Perse t-shirt. She found a model that was too long on her and covered her butt when she walked around the house in just underwear. There was some kind of remarkable temperature difference between covered-butt and partially-exposed-butt, or so she tried to explain to André at the store on Thursday. “He gets more time to snuggle with you than me.”

“I’m so glad everything I was taught as a wee child about guys not being into snuggling turned out to be false. I’m surrounded by snugglers. I even have one trying to get over-the-phone snuggles.”

“He gets more time to snuggle with you than me too,” he remarked flatly. Christina blushed out of his view. I don’t even know what to say back to that. I can’t deny it. It wouldn’t mean anything if I said it doesn’t mean anything. Do I say I prefer to snuggle with him? He’s the superior snuggler? Is that even true? Does it matter if it is or- “What do they say? Cat got your tongue?”

“It’s not like that’s what I do every time I hang out with him...” She fluffed his hair, hesitantly at first and then over-aggressively, betraying her uncertainty and the effort to then commit, like a cover-up.

“I know. Pet nicer,” André sighed. He didn’t want to make a big deal about Juan. He didn’t want to talk about him at all. The line about snuggling was just too perfect to let the moment pass by. He thought the Spaniard was one of the reasons he didn’t get as much of Christina’s “upside” as he needed. It was hard for him to believe all the time she spent in London instead of Dortmund was to ride, and even if it was, then he believed she would have skipped some of it anyway to be with him if there weren’t a consolation prize waiting for her there. Juan made it easier for her to be in London by herself. If there was no Juan around to fill some of her various needs- a dining companion, someone to cook for, a shopping date, someone to lounge on or spoon with at night in front of the TV- then those needs would drive her to Germany more often, even at the expense of her horses. And the BVB midfielder didn’t really care that much if it cost her something in riding terms.

“Sorry.” Christina slowed her fingers messing around in his hair, and regretted that Juan had to interfere in such a good moment. Without even trying, he barged right into the best she’d felt with her partner in ages, and completely ruined it. He left a path of scorched earth behind him when he didn’t even know he was walking. “Better?”

“Yes. Time for bed though.”

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