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omegalomania · 1 year

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i kept forgetting to do this, but i finally remembered we got permission to upload the full pieces done for the SEASONS ZINE! they're not quite as good without @deathchic's gorgeous prose accompanying them, but they were really exciting to put together.

full breakdowns of the symbolism and unobstructed views of each card can be found beneath the cut, fully transcribed. as a warning, they are LONG.

my category was "fall," which encompassed the folie and save rock and roll eras, including the welcome to the new administration mixtape and pax am days ep. seeing as i've a great deal of love for all four of those works and fall out boy has four members, i decided to highlight each work by creating a tarot-inspired card, each featuring a member of the band.

Welcome to the New Administration: Pete Wentz

Pete was the primary organizer behind the viral campaign for CitizensFOB, making him the ideal pick for this card. His card prominently features his bass guitar with the iconic Clandestine logo.

Repeating Number 4: 4 stars above the eagle's head, 4 markings across the cube at the center, 4 members of the band

The tri-colored drapes behind Pete were suspended behind the band on the mixtape cover. The curtains parting over a black background signifies the oncoming hiatus.

The cube-like geometric shape in front of the eagle represents the single promotional art done for "America's Suitehearts," which was one of the tracks demoed in the mixtape and one of the singles that connected most prominently with the themes of the mixtape.

The shield Pete carries and the eagle mounted behind him are both symbols that were used to promote the CitizensFOB viral campaign, featuring the catchphrase: "For Our Betterment, There Is More Mayhem."

Pete's apparel is what he was wearing for the Believers Never Die Part Deux tour, in which there was a lot of direct satirization of Wall Street and American politics. All the band members were wearing suits and looking visibly battered, and Pete had a nosebleed. Patrick also has a nosebleed on his own card; both Pete and Patrick's cards are pre-hiatus projects.

The symbols at the four corners of the card are indicative of the imagery surrounding the campaign. The pointing hand comes from the cover for the mixtape; the airplane is a reference to the "Mailbaick Vaintey and Pidetaerson Firm" videos and accounts that were used in the viral campaign; the wolf head is for the "Alpha Dog" demo, which made its debut on the CitizensFOB mixtape and namedropped "Welcome to the New Administration" title in its demo form; the boomerang is for the "Lake Effect Kid" demo, which also made its debut on the CitizensFOB mixtape.

"The Citizen" is an obvious reference to the "Citizens For Our Betterment" campaign name.

The card features 12 colors, all colorpicked from the Welcome to the New Administration mixtape cover. This represents the 12 artists who contributed the mixtape musically (not merely speaking roles): The Academy Is..., Butch Watcher, The Cab, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Four Year Strong, Gym Class Heroes, Hey Monday, The Hush Sound, Panic! At The Disco, A Rocket to the Moon, and Tyga.

The background elements are indicative of the state of the band prior to the hiatus: the leaves are in tatters and shreds. The sunflower is a native Chicago variant, Helianthus occidentalis, late-blooming sunflower that lasts well into early fall. Sunflowers obviously have a strong association with the sun, but they also stand for adoration, loyalty, good fortune, vitality, longevity, and prosperity. The bright yellow color also associates them with intelligence, happiness, and friendship. Van Gogh had a famous Sunflower series, leading to the obvious connection to Infinity on High, the album preceding the Folie era. This made it a good pick for the pre-hiatus cards, since it was loyalty and friendship that led to the hiatus and ultimately to the band's longevity and vitality. Both Folie à Deux and the Welcome to the New Administration mixtape had more yellow tones than their post-hiatus counterparts as well, thus the pick of a yellow flower.

Folie à Deux: Patrick Stump

Patrick has stated that Folie à Deux is the most "him" out of Fall Out Boy's discography, making him ideal for this card.

Repeating Number 4: 4 electric bursts from the microphone, 4-sided symbol mounted on the microphone, 4 ruffles on Dr. Benzedrine's front

The card features 13 colors to represent the 13 tracks on the album itself (excluding bonus tracks). All colors were colorpicked directly from the album cover.

The anchor is a reference to the lyrics of "27," with a crown symbol on it in reference to "Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet."

There are 9 stripes on the upper side of the background, as a reference to "West Coast Smoker" - the suicidal cats have 9 lives.

The microphone represents Patrick's role as vocalist. It is also a reference to "(Coffee's for Closers)," as the microphone stand is electrified.

Patrick's right half is modeled after his costume in the "America's Suitehearts" video, "Dr. Benzedrine." He has a nosebleed in reference to the lyrics of the song that is his namesake, "20 Dollar Nose Bleed." Both he and Pete represent pre-hiatus projects, and both have bleeding noses.

Patrick's left half is modeled after his costume in the "What A Catch, Donnie" video. He has 20 stripes on his shirt - half black and half white, keeping with themes of duality. The 20 total stripes also references "20 Dollar Nose Bleed."

The background on the bottom half is shattered into 15 visible fragments, indicating the 15 tracks of the full album (when including bonus tracks such as "Pavlove" and "Lullabye"). There are also 27 fragments scattered between the two halves of Patrick, representing "27" and the 27 club.

The symbols at the four corners have dual meanings, in keeping with the theme of duality. The bee is both a lyrical reference to "Lullabye" and a nod to the intro of "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes"; the storm cloud is both a nod to the lyrics of "She's My Winona" and a reference to the "Mr. Sandman" character in the "America's Suitehearts" video; the horseshoe crab is both a reference to the lyrics on "The (Shipped) Gold Standard" and to the character of "H. Shoe Crab" in the "America's Suitehearts" video; the sunflower acknowledges the lyrics in "27" about shooting the sunshine into one's veins and nods to the flower on the hat of the "Donnie the Catcher" character in the "America's Suitehearts" video.

"The Mirror" references the theming of duality on the album, as well as the fact that the vinyl required a mirror for one to read the tracklisting since the text was printed backwards.

The card features heavy themes of duality to suit the theme of a "madness shared by two." The image is bisected in several respects: Patrick is fractured in two, both halves wearing different costumes and expressions; the shadow in the center is split down the middle; the broken heart in the upper half is also two faces; the image is divided both horizontally and vertically; and a dichotomy of fire (the electrified microphone stand) and water (the anchor).

Save Rock and Roll: Joe Trohman

Joe took a much more active writing role post-hiatus and on this album in particular, making him a good pick to represent Save Rock and Roll.

Repeating Number 4: 4 symbols, 4-pointed symbol holding up the others

The card features 11 colors, representing 11 tracks on the album. All colors were color-picked directly from the album cover, with an emphasis on reds, to suit the "red palette" imagery surrounding the album.

This card is saturated with imagery from the 11-part video series the band released in conjunction with the album, "The Youngblood Chronicles." Joe is wearing the costume he had for the majority of the video series prior to his death.

The card features heavy fire imagery due to this being a motif on the album and on the associated video series, with smoke rising up in the background. This is indicative of the band "rising from the ashes" post-hiatus, and also symbolizes the resurrection of Joe's character at the end of "The Youngblood Chronicles."

The guitar-axe weapon is from the "Death Valley" video and would have been his weapon if he weren't dead at this point in time. The card prominently features Joe's guitar, albeit turned into a weapon, as befitting the theming.

The four symbols mounted behind Joe are also from "The Youngblood Chronicles" - the symbol representing the "Silence the Noise" group; the symbol associated with the gang of child bikers; the symbol the Prince of Darkness tattoos on Joe's hand; and the crown-and-volcano symbol associated with the band post-hiatus. The symbol upon which these four icons are mounted is found on the floor in Heaven in the "Save Rock and Roll" video.

Joe is the only one who does not face the audience directly, and is turned in profile. Given the fictional nature of the narrative of "The Youngblood Chronicles," he has the most distance from the fourth wall.

The symbols at the four corners of the card also draw from imagery from "The Youngblood Chronicles." The disco ball is from the "Where Did the Party Go" video, in which Joe's character dies. The briefcase is a consistent object throughout the entire series, and serves to incite the entire narrative. Patrick's hook hand, also seen throughout, is significant due to Patrick's unwitting role as Joe's murderer. The snake, seen in "Young Volcanoes" and "Just One Yesterday," is representative of the group's collective trauma.

"The Defender" is a reference to the names of the characters of Fall Out Boy in "The Youngblood Chronicles," as they are referred to as "The Defenders of the Faith" in the longform video's opening credits. This title is in and of itself a reference to the title track on Save Rock and Roll.

Pax Am Days: Andy Hurley

The Pax Am Days EP is closest to the band's hardcore roots in terms of sonics and composition, and Andy is the most active in hardcore circles today, which makes him an ideal pick for this card.

Repeating 4: 4 holes in the American flag, 4 supports visible on the toms and bass drum, 4 tears on the left side of the wall

The card features 9 colors, all color-picked from the EP cover, per the 9 tracks on the EP (counting the bonus "New Dreams" Naked Rayguns cover).

There are also 9 tears on the right side of the wall, also befitting the 9 tracks on the EP.

The black-and-white checkered background represents the Pax Am studio where the EP was recorded and after which it was named.

Andy is the only one whose card features him looking directly at the audience, to signify the more intimate recording sessions behind the EP, in which studio chatter and laughter can be heard between every track. Being the drummer of the band, Andy's drumkit is naturally featured very prominently.

The crown-volcano symbol that's become synonymous with the band post-hiatus is (barely) visible mounted on Andy's bass drum. This is a similarity Andy's card shares with Joe's, as they both represent post-hiatus projects.

The American flag was also present in the studio for recording. The flag being torn and shredded on the card relates to tracks on the EP that discuss disillusionment with the American dream ("American Made"). It is also indicative of the eras preceding and following the Pax Am EP (Folie à Deux and the Welcome to the New Administration mixtape, and then American Beauty / American Psycho).

The four symbols at the corners of the card all represent lyrics present on the EP: the crown comes from "We Were Doomed from the Start (The King is Dead)"; the lion comes from "Demigods"; the black widow comes from "Hot to the Touch, Cold on the Inside"; the skull comes from "Love, Sex, Death."

"The Believer" is a reference to the final compilation prior to the band's four-year hiatus, "Believers Never Die." With the band returning seemingly from the dead, it seems that believers truly never die. This is paired with Andy reportedly being the only member of the band who always believed they would get back together, even if none of the others did.

The background elements for the post-hiatus cards feature leaves with much more reddish tones. The color red has a great deal of symbolic meanings, including high energy, vitality, strength, and prosperity. Additionally, the fallen leaves are rich and whole, to contrast the shredded-looking leaves in the background for the pre-hiatus cards. After the hiatus, the band's overall health and mentality was much healthier.

The flower in the background is a Madame Julia Correvon clematis, a wine-red Chicago variant of clematis that blooms in the summer and fall. Clematis flowers are associated with mental acuity, wisdom, travel, aspiration, and mischief. Red clematis in particular is associated with passion, energy, good luck, prosperity, security, physical vitality, and courage. This, along with the red color scheme, made it a good flower to represent the cards for the post-hiatus projects.

#fall out boy #fob #seasons zine #*mine #*art #ids in the alt text #i overthought so much of this symbolism lol #and the flowers arent 100% accurate to what theyre supposed to look like...#alas! it was fun regardless

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andrewisdoing · 3 months

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Things That Definitely Made Me GAY (Part 2):

MUSIC ICONS: Part of my Coming Out would be incomplete without the music that found me during that time. I’d wager my survival had every bit to do with the singers, songwriters and entertainers I was playing at the time. I especially credit Madonna, Janet Jackson, Barbara Streisand and Rufus Wainwright. They were the unexpected heroes in my ears everyday reminding me it was okay to embrace the dramatic, funny, complex, sexual situations of life in song.

FILMS: I am a firm believer that people are always searching for bits of themselves in the movies. So, being the teen I was, I wanted to find parts of my being in the movies to be affirmed that I wasn’t alone. Whether it was a documentary or rom-com, I wanted to escape into a potential future or an idea of what it looked like to be a gay man in 2009. Documentaries were a gift from heaven because I got to see where we had been and where we were going. I still feel that way as a 30 year old. I feel like I still am eager to see stories of us and find parts of myself on celluloid.

VOGUEING/PARIS IS BURNING: This movie quite simply changed and saved my life in a LOT of ways. When Madonna’s Vogue (BEST SONG FOREVER ON REPEAT) came into my life, my godmother introduced to me to the Houses of New York City, the Ballrooms and the origins of Vogueing. I had never felt so seen as a black gay person in a film prior to seeing PIB. It was the antidote to existing in a suburb in Washington. To know I wasn’t alone in the world and that there was a place beyond Washington where people like me exist, was (and still is) the greatest gift anyone, especially from kin, could’ve given me.

QUEER AS FOLK: THIS SHOW TOOK ME THERE. I remember hiding the box sets at many friends’ houses when I first had come out. While the show can be a bit dated, the stories and original characters really shaped what being a part of the LGBTQ+ community could potentially be as I grew into adulthood.

HISTORY: When I first came out, I made it my personal mission to read up on all things gay history to understand who came before me and whose footsteps I was walking behind. I found so much solace in the bravery we displayed as a community. I know that I am free to be me because of the folks who came before me. I hope that as time goes on, we discover more unsung gay heroes.

HEROES: I went out to of my way to find people who were like me and people who had the same interests as me. Finding people who made me feel understood and created the work to express all the facets of not only the human experience but the gay experience. Whether it be through dance, poetry, filmmaking or photography, I credit these artists for saving my life through their work.

FATSO: Some kids first cartoon crushes were Aladdin, Hercules, HELL, I could even bet that some had crushes on The Beast, BEFORE HE BECAME HUMAN! Me? Mine was (and still is) Fatso. Some have read him as a queer coded character and for my sake, I really hope that it’s true.

PORN & The Pornstars That Make Em’ : As weird as it may seem, discovering Porn really helped me feel liberated and free to understand my sexuality and what I really liked. Also..boy, oh boy, the men and the videos that still to this day..get me off is a list that’s too long to count. From Zeb Atlas to Tom Katt, these men served the fantasies that were so hot and beefy, I still can’t believe my eyes. Being gay certainly has its perks.

NOAH’S ARC: In the same vein as QAF, Noah’s Arc made me feel not only seen as a gay man but as a black man. I love that the show gave the community so many versions of our existence. Making us more than a side character or the uplifting and sassy character, at that. We were portrayed as human and proof that we exist.

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fluffykitty149 · 2 years

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Made A damimaps fic for creative writing.

All characters belong to DC Comics

Maps hated stuffy parties but she had to see Damian. She and her family were invited to one the Wayne’s many charity events. Her father and stepmother saw it as an opportunity to mingle with the other socialites but Maps decided to dedicate it to her mission. Someone had been sabotaging the work put into the Addams Family Musical and she was determined to figure out who. The design of her plan was brilliant. She’d greet some people to please her parents, head to the buffet to gorge on some snacks, and keep a vantage point to look for Damian, then spot Damian, pull him aside and tell him her mission. It was honestly brilliant.

“Now Mia I want you to be on your best behavior,” Her stepmother warned “let’s not have a repeat of what happened at our party last month. I also want you to go apologies to Bruce. Honestly, the way you were acting it’s like you were trying to embarrass us”

Maps blushed, it wasn’t that she was trying to embarrass her family, she just needed a trick to get out of the party early. Although saying that out loud wouldn’t help her case. “I’ll behave,” she promised. Or at the very least, she’d try not to scare anyone. Luckily Damian doesn’t scare easily.

Her stepmother nodded curtly and goes to talk with her father over plans for the evening while Kyle quirked his lip up at his sister. “You sure you can behave yourself?” he asked coyly.

Maps snorted, “please, I am perfectly capable of behaving myself.” she said snootily. The two shared a laugh and her stepmother sighed while shaking her head. The car pulls up to Wayne Manor with Papparazi flashing cameras on the carpet. Maps sighed and sucks it up before she and her family leave her car.

“MR. MIZOGUCHI OVER HERE!”

“KYLE MIZOGUCHI, WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE UPCOMING SCHOOL YEAR?”

“MIA MIZOGUCHI WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO DAMIAN WAYNE?”

The last one made her freeze but she shook it off and continued on her journey. ‘It’s not like they know I know Dami,’ she told herself. ‘I just so happen to be in his age range.’ she continued with newfound determination and walked alongside her family inside. It was absolutely stunning. The foyer and great hall had glistening chandeliers, beautiful mahogany finishings, and delicate pieces of art for display, the gleaming marble floors were filled with different levels of socialites and reporters that mingled around. She was just about to begin her quest when a firm hand grabbed her shoulder. “I believe you remember our agreement?” Her stepmother warns.

Maps, despite her frustration, nodded her head. ‘It’ll probably be an easier way to find him regardless.’ she tried telling herself as her stepmother guided her to Mr. Wayne. Mr. Wayne was a large but gentle man. Honestly it seemed like a fun idea to try and climb him but that would probably just get her into trouble.

“Oh Bruce!” Her stepmother called with a wave of her hand.

Bruce Wayne looks over in her direction and smiled. “Claire!” he greeted with a hug and a pat. “You’re looking well.” He spots Maps behind her. “You’re Mia right?”

“People call me Maps. Do you know where Damian is? I wanted to ask him something.”

Her stepmother cleared her throat.

“Oh! Also sorry for being so weird when you came to our party. I was in emotional distress.” Her mother resisted the urge to face palm and Bruce laughed.

“No worries Maps. I hope that emotional distress got resolved.” Bruce responded with a smile. “Damian is with his siblings over there. Might I ask why you need him?”

‘I wanna do an investigation and he’s my backup.’

“I just wanted to ask him for some art advice. From one artist to another.”

Bruce looked surprised. “I didn’t know you painted,” he said in a charmed voice. “What’s you’re preferred art style?”

Maps blanked for a second but then moves to awkwardly rub the back of her neck. “Mainly fantasy stuff.” she mumbled.

“That’s lovely,” Bruce smiled with warmth “Damian is into realism and landscape art. It would be interesting to see how the two connect.”

Maps smiled at Mr. Wayne, “Yup! Dami’s a great artist, you said Damian was over there?” she points in the general direction.

Bruce laughed “Yes, you’ll find him with his siblings. I should warn you, he can get prickly when his siblings embarrass him.”

Maps shrugs “Damian’s always prickly. I’m sure I can handle it.”

“MIA!” Her stepmother exclaims.

“It’s quite alright Claire” Bruce waved her off. “Most people close to Damian can testify to that. “Best of luck Maps.” Maps saluted Bruce before continuing on her journey.

Maps followed the general direction given to her until she spots Damian. “Hey Dami!” she waved as she ran over to him.

Damian looked surprised but schooled his face. “Mia? What are you doing here?”

Maps smiled “I wanted to ask you something. You got a second?”

He was about to respond when an arm draped over him. “Who’s your friend,” an adult man said with a charming smile.

Damian sighed in annoyance. “Mia, meet Richard.”

Dick whistles lowly “Wow first name basis, you two must be close,” he said as he brought his hand out to shake.

Maps shook his hand “Nah, it’s because he refuses to use my nickname. Call me Maps.”

Richard’s eyes scrunched up and twinkled. “Ah, he doesn’t use mine either. People call me Dick.”

Map’s eyes bulged out of her head as she resists laughter. “It’s because it’s a stupid nickname,” Damian chastised. “What did you want Mia?”

“Oh, just wanted some help for some art junk. We’re planning out the musical at school and need extra hands. You interested?”

Damian is about to respond when Jason came in using his head as an arm holder. “What’s this about musicals?” he greeted.

“None of your business Todd. Now get lost!” Damian responded as he shoved his brother off.

“I was just asking Damian if he could help us paint the backdrops. Extra hands and all that.” Damian raised an eyebrow in suspicion but Jason ruffles his hair.

“Sounds good to me! Little man could use some extracurriculars.”

“Get off Todd! And I’m already a part of the animal rights club! I don’t need another!”

“Pleaaase!” Maps begged “It’s super important! Plus, you’re the best landscape guy I know!”

Damian’s ears turned red and he cleared his throat. “I suppose I can swing by to assist. I make no promises.”

“Yes!” Maps fist pumps. “Thanks Dami!” It wasn’t her original plan but the motion was set. Ultimate team power was back baby!

#damimaps #damian wayne #maps mizoguchi #should I make this a series?#let me know

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splathousefiction · 6 months

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SH Cosmology: The Lady (Public Release)

Good day everyone.

At the suggestion of patrons, realization of the sheer size of the Splathouse narrative, being asked numerous times for “jumping in” points and an overall need to return to writing in any form, I am proud to bring you a series focused exclusively on explaining the more esoteric set dressing of the lore as it stands at this point.

Splathouse has been one continuous narrative for eight years, and while I will offer absolutely no timelines, deadlines or expectations as to how frequently these will appear (it will be entirely at my whims), I can’t deny that quite a few of you both enjoy this setting and want to know more. Before we go any further, thank you. I have suffered my entire creative career from imposter syndrome and earnestly believing my works weren’t engaging. That changed because of all of you. Your feedback has directly made a difference in how I perceive my craft, and wanting to diversify my skill set. Splathouse, as ever, wouldn’t happen without you.

I offer this series with only a very rough outline of where to begin . I think explaining the basic cosmology would be a great start. The Lady, the original wizard council and their purpose could easily fill the first few entries. Beyond that, there’s a few things I think are worth talking about (how exactly does the Vorpal blade work?! What the hell is chaos magic anyways?!). As such, I am openly taking your questions for anything you’d like me to explain or discuss.

I also feel it’s pertinent to state that Splathouse has no established “canon”. No matter if it’s acted out in a scene, written here or elsewhere-there is no firm “lore”. Things will contradict things you’ve heard on air or read elsewhere sometimes. While there’s absolutely a “real” reason for this (I have never kept notes on stories!), we’re going to pretend it’s because the SH cast are their own unreliable narrators ;). Or perhaps the multiverse shifted. Whichever feels more fun.

Lastly, these will be patron exclusive-for a month. They’ll then be posted up on the website and my tumblr as both of those need some form of content as well. I like keeping my works accessible to the general public.

So.

Preamble over.

Let’s talk about The Lady.

In the Beginning, There Was The Lady…

A most unfortunate part of how I handle my craft is that I tend to create an adjacent-reality to my own life, drawing primarily from lived experiences. Plenty of authors, artists, performers and more do this-in my case, it’s entirely by design as well. Having a low-fantasy environment where magic, incredible technology and more rarely happen (or do with spectacular failures or hilarious results) feels more akin to life as I have experienced it growing up both relatively poor. Poverty doesn’t deny the incredible things before your eyes. It places them eternally out of reach as lack of finances cuts your access to resources at the tendon. You get to experience these wonderful things eventually, albeit at a far later time than your peers or neighbors.

The exceptions to this are two things-spirituality, and drugs.

If you’re poor, you’re likely to hear a lot of people say they’ll pray for you. You’re likely to experience a church outreach of some kind, which turns into attending, which turns into niche benefits that feel like a miracle when you get them. As of this writing, I still have an opportunity to be buried at a church I haven’t been to since I was 16. During COVID lockdowns, this same church provided boxes of food to its membership every week, a rare act of kindness they haven’t repeated since. Spirituality in poverty is at best a social behavior, and at worst places the concept of God in a box accessible only if you’re tithing. It, like the rest of poverty, is a scam that turns even the most idealistic of us cynical.

Drugs however deliver the promise of love, variance of experience, and real, palpable concept of divine grace and retribution right to your brain. Drugs cost money, but not nearly as much as access to a better education, a better neighborhood, a better life. When you’re poor, you do drugs because what else are you going to do on a friday night? Go out to a movie, to dinner? Geez, gas alone is like, $20 bucks, man. Drugs, when taken safely and in a safe environment, are one of the last refuges of mental, spiritual and physical freedom accessible to literally everyone. Drugs are rad actually, but without those informed precautions can indeed ruin your life.

Or, you know, kill you. But hey, at least then you don’t have to worry about your bills right?

I know, I know. That’s a hell of an introduction to who is the most important character in the entirety of Splathouse, but there’s a reason for it-The Lady as a character wouldn’t exist without both of these aspects of my life meeting on a collision course one night before I started any of this.

I have mentioned before how I met the lady on air and in writing, but to bring the rest of you up to speed-

Once upon a time I was really into hallucinogens. I realized in retrospect I did LSD and acid specifically to fight feelings of dysphoria, but that didn’t change that at the time, in the moment, I wanted to leave my body. This flesh, this existence felt wholly constricting to my person in a way I didn’t have words for yet. So one night, I got really, really drunk off cheap whiskey. I did some LSD I picked up from an old connection. When the effects didn’t take, I cursed and stomped and decided to sleep off my drunken stupor on the couch.

That was an incredibly dangerous, stupid and fortunate idea. The moment I was unconscious, I fell through a blackened aether into a dream world I’ve yet to see repeated. Believe me. I’ve tried. I’ve looked everywhere for absolutely anything that could have come close to mimicking this space, and I’ve come up empty every time.

Because its details weren’t frozen or static; rather, they were golden and kinetic. An endless walkway flanked by pantheons massive as the oldest redwoods, glimmering in an endless twinkling starlight above me. Have you ever seen gold melted down and poured? Imagine that, but it’s everywhere on the coldest, cleanest night of your childhood. Your very breath feels like razors as it curls out from you like sins confessed to a priest. You stand there and you suffer through it though, if only to see the vastness of the universe, if only to feel sm-

Shit, okay. Let me get back to what I was saying.

I wasn’t afraid. Not yet. I walked this endless corridor, and began to call out. I don’t remember what I said (probably some variation of that shaky “hello?” I give on air sometimes), but I do remember the very distinct impression I was being watched.

And I was! By these giant flowing golden robes with spears in gnarled, hideous hands! I decided running was a good idea.

It wasn’t! It was a horrible idea, what the hell!

They eventually caught me, and threw me to the ground. My face hit the bricks loud enough for my teeth to clack together. I remember in the dream(? Hallucination? Vision?) that I soiled myself at this point. I was genuinely fucking afraid I was going to die and absolutely nothing has even came close to the real fear I felt in this moment. I remember thinking if this was it, if this was my last moment, and least I could hope for an afterlife that had been kinder to me than the waking world.

That’s when the sky began to drip down like rain. A ways ahead of me, I watched as the sky itself sluiced down to the floor, like a liquid fabric. It was the void, ethereal and beautiful in front of me. I couldn’t look away, even as I struggled against the insurmountable strength of my captors. I sat there, rolling in my own piss and crying as it took a vaguely femme shape.

She was huge.

Massive.

I hate using those words, because it goes right back to what I said about spirituality and god. It places the concept of her in a box-and she never could be contained by such a thing. She was far too large, too-

When she opened her eyes and looked down at me, I saw within them the beauty of everything. Of life, of love, of even all the things I told myself I despised. I saw freedom and boundless joy and real, genuine happiness I hadn’t known since I was a kid. I started crying, and she tenderly reached a massive finger down and lifted my chin.

“What is it you desire most?”

I wish I had something to compare her voice to. I wish I could mimic it on air, but I never will. It sounded like birds singing how much they love you in your mothers voice. Like the genuine relief of your partner when you call them and say you made it home. Like an elderly man seeing the boy that he was and clutching him in his arms, assuring that kid he was going to be fine. Like the breathless embrace of someone telling you post-coitus not to pull away, that they needed you.

It sounded like love. Boundless, endless. Even attempting to quantify it would be a fool's errand.

A thousand things came to my mind then. Asking if she was god. If this was real. If I was in heaven or hell. But instead, the truth is what parted my lips.

“I just want to be happy. Please, I just…I just want to be happy…”

She pulled her finger away. She closed her hands, and when she opened it once more there was a flaming orb. Bright as the sun, just as golden as all that surrounded us. She took her other hand, and with another massive finger lifted my chin once more.

“Then never waste your potential,” she said, “and know that you are loved,”

She tipped the star forward, and it poured into my throat.

Again.

Words fail me here to explain the level of pain I felt. Attempting to explain is going to get graphic, so maybe ignore the following paragraph-

I remember the heat most of all. The instant way it seared my esophagus, bringing forth blisters that popped and formed anew within seconds. The searing pain it brought right behind my eyes, the way it gripped my brain in total and perfect oblivion. Nothing, absolutely nothing I had experienced had felt even close to this. It was like swallowing hell, the elephant's foot. I think actually eating the sun would have been less nauseating, mind bendingly breaking.

As the last drop hit my throat, I was pulled from the dream. Coughing, spasming. I ran to my toilet and vomited immediately for what felt like hours. I slumped over beside the toilet after, shivering and delirious from dehydration. I kept thinking to myself never again, holy shit I almost died.

That was the last night I did hallucinogens.

In time, I forgot the horrors my addictions caused me. I healed from them. But The Lady.

The lady was never, ever far from my mind. I tried lucid dreaming. I delved deeper into my occult studies, something that had been an arm-chair historian hobby at best. I tried, in vain, to look for her for years, or (in my more logical moments) perhaps what inspired her in my brain.

I found nothing.

Nothing at all.

And I have never given up my search, even now.

I’ve still found absolutely nothing.

So I kept the secret of The Lady to myself. An isolated shame, I’d think in my depressive episodes. But also a reminder that, despite everything, I still had a chance. I had a life. I had felt love in that moment, and I would chase it eternally, giving it to as many people as I could before I actually, factually died. Years passed-and I started SH. I knew, innately, The Lady would make an appearance. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know when. But I knew in my heart I had to pay tribute somehow to the entity that had given me a second chance, a better path, a life I never would have got to experience were it not for her.

It was the least I could do.

I talked about her with friends. With colleagues in the field of occultism, and my craft. A funny thing happened, too.

A few people told me they had a similar experience. A cosmic entity presenting itself in this vague, beautiful, alluring and omni-compassionate way. It would offer advice. It would give them assurance. Then it would disappear, never to be heard from again. I felt a shiver go down my spine during these conversations, a fearful realization that I hadn’t been hallucinating and that my own assumed fiction had bled over into reality. I’d ask questions of course, check to see if it was good-old confirmation bias on their end. Seeing something that wasn’t there based on a suggestion from my own story, all that.

Then they started mentioning things from my experience that I hadn’t told them. The kinetic gold, the columns, all of it. Things they couldn’t have possibly mentioned unless I had told them.

It’s been over a decade since that night.

And, if nothing else in my stories is true, if it’s all made up, if it’s just something I smack together and create for entertainment for a few people that vaguely resembles my life, I want to say something I couldn’t admit before, something I was afraid to say out loud for fear of judgment or that same sneering cynicism I mentioned earlier.

The Lady is very, very real. And she is so very, very beautiful.

Fiction, Reality and Melding The Two

I’m going to say something here your humanities teachers failed to tell you. It’s not a hard and fast rule, more of an observation drawn from having done this for so long.

Fiction is reality, but obfuscated through a looking glass. Sometimes that glass is filthy, sometimes smudged, sometimes shattered. But regardless of how jagged, nasty or gnarly the image is that greets you-It’s still real. Somewhere, right below the surface, is a bridge between your worlds.

That bridge is you. You, observing the glass, and deciding to do something with it. To tell the world what you see on your terms, in your medium, in your way. Nothing in the entire universe will ever come close to the magic of your reality being brought before us. No one, not one person, will ever see what's on the other side of that glass the exact same way you do.

In my case.

I saw a place I was happy. A world crafted by a being composed of love, but mindful enough to let us choose to be loved without denying us the opportunity to find it later. I saw a place where a few bumbling numbskulls (who somehow, some way managed to be very skilled in some niche things) came together and made each other stronger. Their first order of business wasn’t to use this strength to exploit other people-but to exponentially expand this bond, this compassion and empathy to others. To a found family, to the world if they could.

Over the years, I’ve often thought I fucked up by drawing from my own experiences. But then I think back to that night, to what I’ve accomplished with this Dumb Little Internet Show (™) since, to the people I’ve met and had the good fortune to help. I think back to The Lady, and how without her none of this would be possible.

I like to think she’s proud.

So, bringing her into SH was inevitable. But I wanted to do so by placing her at the forefront of my cosmology, as the being that started literally everything, someone who filled an empty void with beauty and people and demons and angels and more that lived in harmony (at least for a while). Someone that gave the world magic and strength, and the capacity to do good with both.

I made her the biggest god I could, the most important, because.

Well.

Again.

It was the least I could do.

I hope this explains a few things behind the reason she’s important, and why she showed up at all. If you’ve any more questions, I’m happy to answer them in the comments below! Annnnd well, I suppose we’ll see how regularly we can make this.

I love you all.

Be well.

-j

#splathousefic #asmr #audio #splathouse #splathousefiction #voice over #voice actor #voice #voice acting #voice work #sh cosmology

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your3fundamentaltruths · 4 years

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Polin + N (the colour green).

Had some inspiration finally and it got quite long!

Canon-era, guest starring Kate and the heroes from another JQ series, the Lyndon Sisters series: Robert Kemble, Earl of Macclesfield (who is mentioned in The Duke and I as a friend of Colin’s and also appears briefly in Romancing Mister Bridgerton), from Everything and the Moon and Charles Wycombe, Earl of Billington, from Brighter than the Sun. I recommend the series very much! They are still bachelors at this time, although there are hints at Robert’s love story :)

You can also find it here at AO3.

—

“If anyone asks – well, if Portia Featherington asks,” his sister-in-law says through a too-bright smile, “you told me Penelope looked very lovely tonight.”

Colin frowns, eyes casting about the ballroom for the familiar sight of Pen’s bright red hair and yellow gown, nearly missing her because she is wearing green. Green. It suits her. And now he understands Kate’s odd request.

“It seems two viscountesses’ opinions and even a viscount’s and an artist’s are not enough to sway her that the choice was a good one and ought to be repeated and often, seeing as we are women and they are married men, but an eligible gentleman? She seemed far more receptive to the idea after that.” Kate’s eyes gleam. “And,” she continues, “Even better were it more than one. I know you have several eligible gentlemen friends here tonight. Might you put a hint in Lord Macclesfield’s ear to ask her to dance?”

His friend is a notorious rake he would previously have hesitated to draw into close proximity to a lady like Penelope, but he knows that nowadays Macclesfield is hopelessly besotted with some mystery woman he refuses to say much about other than that she is leading him a merry chase. So, there’d be no harm in it and it would certainly make an impression on Lady Featherington to have a future marquess who so rarely bestows his attentions on eligible young ladies single out her daughter so markedly.

And Penelope looks so free and easy tonight, as she should always look, even more than before – He shakes his head. It doesn’t do to think on it. “Yes, of course, Kate,” he acquiesces, making a beeline for his old friend.

“Will you do me a favor, Macclesfield?” Colin says without preamble, having already greeted him earlier in the evening.

“What sort of favor?” Macclesfield demands suspiciously, knowing him too well to agree without question.

“Dance with a friend of mine.”

“What friend?”

“Miss Featherington.”

“Prudence Featherington?” Macclesfield shudders.

“Good God, of course not Prudence Featherington! I wouldn’t ask my worst enemy to dance with her, if I had one,” he mutters. “I should’ve been more specific. Penelope. The redhead in the green dress,” he says, discreetly tilting his head in her general direction until Macclesfield’s eyes land on Pen. “She’s a capital girl, but her mother insists on dressing her in colors that don’t flatter her –”

“There’s nothing wrong with the green,” Macclesfield says, brow wrinkling. “Rather nice, actually. It’s a good color for a red –”

“That’s the thing,” he interrupts impatiently. “Her mama normally forces her into yellows.”

Macclesfield shudders. “Oh, good God,” he mutters. “Poor girl.”

“My sister-in-law believes that if a few eligible gentlemen such showed her marked attention tonight it will convince her mother to allow her to wear more favorable colors more often,” Colin explains. “And that –”

“Is where I come in,” his friend finishes good-naturedly. “Lead the way.”

—

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, my lord,” Penelope says, curtseying after Colin makes the introduction.

“I assure you the pleasure is all mine, Miss Featherington. Bridgerton here spoke so highly of you.”

Penelope smiles sunnily at Macclesfield, with none of her characteristic shyness with strangers. “If I am not mistaken, I have heard good things about you as well, my lord.”

Macclesfield looks amused. “From whom?”

“Mrs. Brightbill is your aunt, I believe?”

“Unfortunately,” Macclesfield says with an affectionate smile that belies his dramatic sigh. “Are you acquainted?”

“Only very recently. We met at the modiste. As a matter of fact, she persuaded my mama that she should allow me to purchase this gown.”

“Then Aunt Brightbill has better taste than I knew. It suits you.”

Penelope blushes faintly. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Ah, and here is our friend Billington,” Macclesfield says, beckoning him over. “Billington, have you met Miss Featherington?”

“I have not had the pleasure.”

There is nothing strictly improper in the way Billington bows over Penelope’s gloved hand or the kiss he bestows upon it, but there is a gleam in his eyes Colin does not like in the slightest.

“I’m afraid you will only have a few moments of Miss Featherington’s time, as we are to dance the next set,” Macclesfield informs their friend. “And you, Billington?” he continues meaningfully. “I believe you’ve yet to make your way to the floor.”

Billington looks a bit panicked but he covers it with a smooth smile. He knows he’s prey in a setting like this.

“And Miss Featherington is a capital young lady. More sense than most of the party put together, so if you are to dance, I believe you could find no better partner.”

That is to say, she’s not of the scheming vulture variety of debutante.

At that, Billington relaxes, instantly apprehending Macclesfield’s meaning.

Colin finds himself scowling. Macclesfield is one thing, but Billington is a more dan –

“Are you engaged for the waltz, Miss Featherington?”

The waltz????

“I am n –��

“Miss Featherington’s waltz is mine, I’m afraid,” he interrupts smoothly.

Penelope frowns. “Your name is not on my dance card, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Well, it should be. Now that you have informed me of the oversight, I shall remedy it at once.” He holds out his hand, but much to his surprise, she hands it to Billington instead.

His scowl only deepens at his friends’ amused looks. Bloody bastards.

—

“Did Billington even ask your mama if you had permission for the waltz?” Colin, now standing alone at the edge of the ballroom, demands as soon as she and Lord Macclesfield are done with their dance and Lord Macclesfield has ambled off, leaving them alone.

“You didn’t ask when you tried to wrest my dance card from him.”

“I didn’t – that’s not the point. I have known you forever and know you have permission. He, on the other hand –”

Penelope shakes her head. “It would have been pointless. Mama would never say no to an earl. And I daresay she’d have boxed my ears as soon as we got in the carriage if I considered granting you my waltz instead.”

Colin looks very put out at that.

“Oh, don’t look like that. It is merely the usual mercenary machinations of the marriage mart. Lord Billington, as an eligible gentleman of title, is in need of an heir. He must marry someone someday. You, on the other hand, seem quite firm in your resolve not to marry as a general matter and have put a rather fine point on your resolve not to marry me specifically –” Not that her mama knows that.

“Pen –”

She waves a hand and shrugs. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up. But she thinks that the only way to get through the embarrassment of that day – after spending ages dodging what she assumes are his attempts to make apologies that would only have embarrassed her further and having time to lick her wounds – is to joke about it as though it was some amusing incident or they will never be easy with one another again. And the fact remains that, for all that Colin broke her heart, she still, very pathetically, misses their old comfortable friendship. She would much rather have him in her life that way than not at all or only as nodding acquaintances.

“Not to mention, even were you inclined to marry, you are very far down the line for the family title. And even were you born to Anthony’s place instead . . . well, what would a viscount be to an earl?”

“Billington is a rake,” Colin says through gritted teeth.

“Good heavens, Colin,” she laughs, “if you speak so critically of your friends, I should hate to hear what you say of your enemies –”

“I have no enemies,” he grumbles.

“How nice for you,” she says airily. “Still,” she continues, voice turning sly, “I do think it unfair of you to speak so of your friend. Even, dare I say it, hypocritical.” Oh, it hurts to think of it, but she must. “How does the saying go? One should not throw stones if one lives in a glass house?”

“Penelope,” he sputters, clearly not expecting she would turn her barbed wit on him. And on such a subject!

She’s rather proud of herself. “I am innocent, not oblivious.”

He’s very red in the face now, tugging uncomfortably at his cravat.

And just then, Lord Billington returns to claim his waltz.

“Impeccable timing, my lord,” she murmurs. “I do believe Mr. Bridgerton was about to leave me to my own company, as he seems rather desperately in need of refreshment.”

He casts a still red-faced Colin an amused look and nods at him before leading her to the dance floor.

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years

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Ngl, the Nadia anons and fic have me in a Nadia mood. Can we get a fic where MC and Vivienne aren't dating, but Nadia thought they were and finds out they aren't, so she tries winning over MC, and MC is both wary and slightly charmed, despite the entire Poppy being exasperated, and finally agrees to a date? It could be a follow on from the other fic or it's own thing. (If you receive this ask twice please ignore the 2nd one, tumblr gave a bad request message for the first so idk if you got it)

Pairing with: “Can we have a Nadia stalking mc instead of Vivienne? Getting intrigued by the mc and then wanting her to join her instead“

...

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“I’m a bit confused.”

The voice is firm, perhaps even a bit harsh, and it has Nadia instantly on edge. Were it not for the small, almost imperceptible hint of playfulness, the blond thief would have already brandished her knife. Instead, she just freezes there, wide eyed, letting the voice wash over her and awaken a torrent of feelings she had buried deep within her. Emotions only brought problems, only made her pick all the wrong options. She couldn’t trust something as fickle as that. She knew that. Well. At least she thought she knew that.

Yet here she is, eagerly spinning around after a moment’s hesitation, seeking the owner of that sweet, sweet, harsh voice.

It had only been a month, but Karina seemed to have changed drastically. Gone was the insecure little girl she had been, wrapped in Vivienne’s shadow. Now she stood strong and unflinching just a few meters away, shoulders thrown back in attempt to look taller, brown eyes calculating Nadia’s every movement like a predator. One wrong move, and it was over.

Nadia didn’t want to underestimate a woman like Karina ever again.

“You said you weren’t after Vivienne anymore… but here you are anyway.” Her eyes flickered up and down, her expression softening with a small, unconcerned smile. It didn’t look cocky, nor did it look happy. It was teasing, meant to irritate Nadia to her very core, but she found she couldn’t quite look at it without feeling butterflies rise. It was unfair. Nadia pursed her lips and looked away, and Karina continued. “What am I supposed to think?”

She felt like she had been put under a microscope, left there to be picked apart by the artist.

“It… was a coincidence?” She finally said, voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil of emotions she was experiencing.

Karina hummed. “Yeah, I don’t really believe in coincidences and that only leaves me with plenty of creepy alternatives. You might want to explain yourself.”

“I didn’t know you would come here next.” Nadia forced herself to meet her gaze, half-wishing she could just burn the butterflies in her stomach so she could actually concentrate, half-berating herself for not realizing where her true affections laid sooner. “I had planned to stay away from you – that’s why I decided to come here in the first place.”

“Sure. Awfully close to our next target, too. How convenient.”

Frustration could not begin to convey what Nadia was feeling right now. Hot-headed indignation, barely held at bay by the cold, murky feeling of rejection. Her hands closed into fists, then opened, then closed again in quick motions, as if she were trying to grasp her conflicting feelings and bury them even deeper.

“I didn’t even know you had a target here.” She spat at last, scowling. “Look, I won’t get in between your relationship with Vivienne anymore. I won’t even stay here, if it bothers you so much. I could probably pick the next flight to–”

“My relationship?”

“Yes, your– why are you looking at me like that?” It takes a few seconds. Nadia has never had so many conflicting feelings in her entire life. There’s the bubbly, blissful hope that lifts her spirits and spreads over her whole body like a blanket of pure joy, warm and fuzzy, but there’s also the sinking, bitter sensation of a misunderstanding. Of not reading the room correctly, despite that being Nadia’s forte. “You aren’t dating Vivienne.”

Karina’s smile seems a little less detached, bordering on genuine. “It’s true I had some interest in her at the beginning, but I quickly realized a relationship wasn’t the best choice. Hey, maybe we should start a club or something! God knows there’s enough people interested in Vivienne to get plenty of members.”

“Then… but she didn’t– you were jealous!”

“Yeah, I can’t deny that.” A sheepish shrug. “But in my defense, who wouldn’t be?”

Nadia takes a deep breath. “You were jealous.” She repeats, more to herself than to Karina. She’s trying to make this whole situation make sense. “Of Vivienne…? Because I was giving attention to her.”

A light blush that might be Nadia’s imagination appears on Karina’s face. “I think we might be getting off topic here. You, uh, you said you were going to leave?”

“I was, but there’s no way I’m doing that after this revelation.” After a month of aimlessly swimming through the situation, Nadia finally thinks she might have found her footing. She smirks. “You are interested in me.”

Karina looks her up and down again, wary. “Was. You know, before I found out you are an obsessive asshole.”

“Believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson. I’ll respect your boundaries.” She takes a few steps closer. Karina seems rooted in place, body angling towards the end of the alleyway they are in, but making no move to leave. “But I can’t let this chance slip me by.”

“Chance? So because you couldn’t get Vivienne, now you are after me?”

“Ah…” Nadia hesitates, all confidence wavering. The other woman narrows her eyes. “No. No, I…” The words were right there. Somehow, they wouldn’t come out.

“You…?

“It’s just. I didn’t– I…” She lets out a small grunt of frustration. “I wasn’t interested in her. I thought I was. Turns out she wasn’t the one that interested me at all.”

“But then… why did you…” A beat, and Karina’s eyes widen. “You were projecting your feelings onto her.”

“Yes. And now that it’s come out into the open that you are also interested-”

“Was. I was interested. Past tense. Nadia, I’m saying no. Can you respect that, please?”

Nadia pursed her lips, feeling her good mood dissipate. This was what had ruined her chances in the past, her near violent approach. She backed the subject of her interest to a corner where they would have no other choice but to pick her, because the alternative was even worse.

That’s not something she wanted for Karina. Whatever this affection was, it felt far more fragile and precious than any of her other obsessions. Far more real. Worth treasuring. Nadia wasn’t sure she could even call this feeling ‘an obsession’.

She couldn’t force something like this. She didn’t want to.

“I understand.” She said. “And you have every right to say no, but I want you to give me a chance to prove that I’ve changed.” That had been mostly thanks to the sheer number of sleepless nights she had had, just thinking about everything. Her ideology and how it clashed with the Poppy’s, mainly. That was why she had scrapped the video her crew was working on, why she had put on hold the heists they had planned.

She knew she still had a long way to go, but she was willing and raging to go. A change was long overdue.

“Just one chance. I won’t let it go to waste.”

…

“It was creepy enough when it was Vivienne, but I didn’t expect to endure this type of thing again.” Zoe holds up a gift for everyone to see with a small grimace. Jett takes one look at it and whistles in appreciation.

“Those are some quality paints, alright. You’re going to have a field day with those, Kar.”

“Who said I was going to use them?”

“So I can throw them out or-”

“What? No! Zoe, don’t!”

Vivienne smirks from where she is curled up on the couch, amusement crinkling in her eyes. “Now this is a development, thought I can’t say it was unexpected.” The mirth dies down soon enough. To anyone else she’d look composed, detached, but the members of the Poppy know her well enough to detect the hint of worry clouding her expression. “How do you feel about this, Karina? Would you like us to handle it?”

“I can think of a few ways that might be effective.” Leon adds, from the other side of the room, a frown firmly in place.

“She just can’t give up, can she?” Remy huffs. “First Vivienne, now Karina… When do you think you’ll have your turn, Zoe?”

Zoe gives him a dry look. “Never. Not if I can help it. But seriously Kar, what do we do? If I have to see another gift from that woman, I swear-”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

The living room is always alive with noise when the Poppy gathers in it, sharing laughs, the atmosphere light and welcoming. All of that skids to an abrupt stop as soon as Karina has finished talking. Silence reigns so perfectly it becomes deafening, all eyes on her, searching, prodding, as if they were trying to find out when Karina had been replaced by some kind of impostor.

The artist laughs. “Seriously. Just give me at least a week with her. I want to see something.”

“Something?” Nikolai repeats, one of his eyebrows so far up into his hairline Karina is almost expecting it to fall off. “Not that I don’t trust your judgement, but you must remember who we are talking about. One week is plenty of time for her to kill you.”

“One week.” Karina says again, resolute. “That is all I ask.”

The rest of the Poppy sputters in a chaos of half-shouted reasons why this won’t work, and half-muttered inquiries regarding Karina’s sanity. She takes it all in stride, mostly because they aren’t telling her anything new, something she hadn’t considered before making the decision. Curiosity kills the cat, some say, and Karina is definitely curious to see how much Nadia has allegedly changed.

…

“I’m definitely surprised this time.”

Nadia gives her a curious look, her smirk firmly in place. The confidence she exudes is something that had interested Karina from the moment she had first seen the blonde woman, an unhinged storm worth admiring from a distance.

She had certainly mellowed out. There was still a dangerous undertone to her every action, but it was more controlled. Karina wasn’t naive, she knew Nadia could still kill people if she wanted to, probably with no remorse whatsoever, but she had the impression she would at least consider other alternatives before rushing in for the kill. Nadia hadn’t been lying – she had changed.

Or she was a really good actress, but Karina was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I didn’t think you’d have such a drastic change in just one month.”

Blue eyes shimmer with delight. Nadia practically preens.

“I’m full of surprises. You’d better get used to that.”

“Good! That just means I won’t get bored anytime soon.”

“I’ll ensure you don’t.”

The chill of the night makes for an excellent excuse to get closer, not that Nadia really needs it. She moves closer to her in one smooth movement, but Karina catches the look the blonde woman sends her way, making sure she’s not overstepping any boundaries. It’s a sweet gesture, something she wouldn’t have expected from Nadia in the past.

They’re on top of the Eiffel Tower. Leon is somewhere near, out of sight, and Karina can just imagine him staring at them from wherever he is with a concerned frown, ready to intervene at any sign of trouble. But nothing of the sort happens. Instead, Karina stands there, transfixed by the anecdotes Nadia is telling her, eyes tracking her every movement with a shocked wonder she hadn’t felt before. There had been a spark with Vivienne, all those months ago, when the Poppy had recruited her, but nothing like the emotion she feels now. There’s a raging fire somewhere in her soul she had ignored until now, emboldened by Nadia’s smile, by her touch, by her mere presence.

And when the date comes to an end, and she stands inches away, blue eyes searching hers for permission?

Karina can only nod, eyes fluttering shut as Nadia slips one finger under her chin, directing her face up, expression softening as she leans in.

She feels like she is on cloud nine.

#Anonymous #answered #contination #lovestruck #lovestruck qot #lovestruck mc #lovestruck nadia #nadia x mc #qot mc #qot nadia #fluff #touching thursday

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planetesastraea · 4 years

Text

On the tip of his fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU - Mature - 6 277 words - Warnings: none

First meetings, himbo Geralt, bisexual Geralt (even if he’s just finding out), bottom Geralt (that too), top Jaskier, first time, handjobs, banter, praise kink, consent kink

Betaed by Micaela Dawn: she’s a wonderful artist and beta, check out her work!

Read on AO3

The bar was oddly crowded for a Wednesday night and Geralt was trying his best to not look as out of place as he felt. He had to be there, were Yen's words. And once Triss and Sabrina heard he was trying to get out of the team’s celebratory night out, his fate had been sealed.

"You deserve this too," Yen had said. “You’ve been working your ass off as much as we’ve all been and you deserve to blow off some steam.”

“I can blow off some steam at home.”

“Playing Skittles-stake Gwent with our teenage daughter doesn’t count. Also you promised you’d spend more time with the team outside of work-”

“I actually never agreed to that,”

“-so you’re coming.”

And so here he was, wearing one of his black button down shirts and a comfortable pair of jeans with an empty beer bottle in his hand, making casual conversation over the slightly too-loud music and praying to the highest powers that the girls wouldn’t try to get him to dance. Triss and Yen had met him in front of the bar to make sure he wouldn’t turn away once he had a look inside the place. As soon as he had been close enough, Triss had reached a hand out to his collar, making a tsk sound.

“What are we going to do with you, hm?”, she had whispered to herself as she had opened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar a little wider.

“Hey, be gentle,” Yen had cut in softly. “At least he lost the tie.”

They had cackled in unison as he rolled his eyes, yet unable to fake annoyance as a smile drew itself on his lips. With one of the women clinging to each of his arms, the three of them comfortably slid together as they walked into the place.

He liked being around them. Over the years things had been several levels of complicated and then some, but the three of them had found their pace eventually. Triss and Yen liked to mock him and he liked to act dumber than he actually was- well, most of the time. His social skills still didn’t reach that high.

As it turned out, you could learn a lot about people by staying at the office several nights in a row working a gigantic case, taking turns on who would get to doze off for twelve minutes on the couch and who was to blame for the soy sauce on page 86 of the Claremont contract. And damn did Triss and Yen know him well. Which was why they had dutifully waited for him outside the bar. Claiming he looked for them but gave up because of how packed the place was would definitely have been among his top three excuses to go back home and relieve Eskel of his Uncle duties. (Both he and Ciri would have been terribly disappointed and that was about 75% of the reasons why he had made it to the party).

They had been here for a couple of hours now, had done a good amount of talking and heard some more-than-other alright bands take to the stage. One of the junior associates further away from him called “Hey, here’s Sabrina!!” and Geralt turned towards the sound of Sabrina’s voice going “You guys are not going to believe this!” when something, or, well, someone, slammed right into him.

“Owww, holy shit I’m so sorry, you alright?”

The man was carrying two pints that had probably been full to the brim before he collided with Geralt. Luckily most of what spilled had hit the floor (he didn't need a repeat of the 2017 "Wet-Shirt Contest Winner" from when a sink pipe had blown up in the men's room. Lambert had walked in, taken a thousand pictures and emailed memes to the whole floor for weeks).

Geralt’s shoes had been fairly sticky with booze already so it wasn't much trouble.

“I’m fine,” he said and that’s when he noticed the other man had come to a full stop, eyes locked on him intently, lips slightly parted. The eyeliner around his eyes was a bit smeared and Geralt recognized him as one of the singers from earlier.

“That you are,” he murmured in a low tone, almost to himself. Geralt blinked.

“Yes. I am,” he said back louder in hope to maybe clear out the odd look on the other man’s face. Just because he was tall, well-built and, well, apparently, somewhat broody, people expected him to get pissed at the slightest things.

“I’m Julian," the guy said and Geralt smiled politely, unsure why the stranger would introduce himself.

“Geralt,” he replied at the same time Julian went “But you can call me Jaskier!” and then “I’m sorry, what was that?”

It was like his words were running faster than his thoughts.

“Geralt. My name is Geralt,” he repeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Geralt.” Jaskier’s lips rose to one side and he tilted his head slightly. Geralt was way more used to people trying to avoid looking at him, he had his unusual colored eyes to thank for that. They were easily disturbing and while people didn't always show discomfort, they at least showed restraint. Jaskier didn't have an ounce of it and Geralt had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

“Can I get you another drink?” Jaskier blurted out.

“Mine was already empty. That’s your drink on the floor,” Geralt replied as the other man chuckled, eyes looking down briefly.

“Right,” he raised his eyes and licked his lips. “Offer still stands. Can I get you another drink?”

“Hm,” Geralt said, his well-known wording skills kicking in. “My friends are-” he turned around thinking he’d find Anica and Tiff where he had left them only to realise they had disappeared among the crowd. In the far back he recognized Triss and Yen dancing on a table like nothing in the world could stop them and any back-up plan he was about to use evaporated.

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling. Give other people a chance, Yen’s voice said in Geralt's head and the line of his shoulders softened. Jaskier’s eyes hadn’t moved from him for even a second. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

“Sure,” Geralt aimed for a neutral tone but sounded nervous even to his own ears. The other man’s smile widened.

They found two empty stools that felt oddly closer than those in Geralt’s bars usually were - but then again most of Geralt’s bars were hotel lobbies on work trips or the kind where he could take a whole bottle for himself and sit in a corner where no one would dare bother him. (He hadn't been in one of those in a while. He didn’t miss it.)

Jaskier set an ale in front of him and Geralt faintly wondered who it was originally destined for.

“So what are you doing here tonight? I’ve never seen you around,” Jaskier started.

“Celebrating,” he said, in a voice that hardly sounded celebratory.

“Is it your birthday?”

“No,” he replied, vaguely gesturing to his group of friends who were lost to the crowd, “with colleagues. We closed in on a deal."

"What kind of business do you work in?" The other man seemed way more interested in learning about Geralt than actually drinking the ale. Geralt shrugged, a wordless version of his usual ‘hm’.

“All of them. We're a law firm.”

“Oh! Well, congrats by the way!" Jaskier said and then leaned in and using a secretive tone he added, "I mean, you didn’t help a dangerous criminal get away with it, did you?”

Geralt grimaced and prepared himself to lose Jaskier’s interest in his job entirely.

“Not that kind of lawyers.”

“What kind, then?”

“Corporate.”

To his surprise, Jaskier kept nodding.

“So what was the deal about? Please tell me you’re the kind of firm on David’s side and not on Goliath's.”

“It’s rarely as straightforward as that,” Geralt mused and took a drink of his ale.

Jaskier hummed softly.

“What was this one anyway?”

“I can’t disclose any details,” he hedged and Jaskier chuckled.

“Oh, you can’t disclose any details, can you?” he leaned again, this time his arm and shoulder pressing against Geralt's.

“No, I can’t,” Geralt articulated again to make sure Jaskier would hear him. Music rarely ever left anyone’s hearing intact after a few years, maybe that was why the man kept leaning closer.

“Anything I’ll hear about on the news?”

“The local ones, maybe.”

“Well aren't you a man of mystery.” Their shoulders bumped again. Geralt didn't remember at which point he had rolled up his sleeves but his forearms felt oddly comfortable being that close to someone else's skin. It had been a while since he had even given thought to someone else's skin.

There was still a band playing on the stage out of his sight, a crowd surrounding them, people all along the bar calling for the bartender’s attention, noises and lights everywhere and yet, somehow, in the ocean of stimuli, his attention was focused on Jaskier.

"Maybe I should take your number then?" Jaskier said, wriggling an eyebrow. "As legal counsel. For when law enforcement catches up with me."

“What would they catch you for?” he asked, willing to take the bait.

“Oh, there’s quite the list,” Jaskier said. “I’m afraid I have a rather criminal past. There’s the illegal bus riding, parking in client-only spots,” he counted on his fingers, adding each theatrically. “I once shook a vending machine to get my chocolate bar and got a second one I didn’t pay for.”

“Hmm. I think you might get away with those,” Geralt answered, taking a drink from his pint.

“Well I guess all is left is the case of indecent exposure.”

The man had a nonchalant demeanor about him but his eyes were focused on Geralt and definitely didn't miss the way he almost choked on the ale. Geralt only then realised how much of Jaskier’s chest was visible. He registered vaguely how he’d never had an interest in other people’s collar bones before and realised he had forgotten where they were going with this.

"Hmm,” he cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered. “Like I said, not my area of expertise."

He saw Jaskier lick his lips and something in his eyes reminded him of the decisive moment that came with all his negotiations.

"How about we get out of here and you show me your area of expertise?"

"What?" He couldn’t have heard that right. Jaskier’s eyes softened and his hand hovered over his bare forearm.

"I'm saying I want to take you home.” There was a beat and Geralt swallowed, the taste of ale still on his lips. His conversations with other people definitely didn’t go like that. The peak of panic might have been obvious on his face because Jaskier’s fingers touched his wrist and he spoke into his ear. "I'm making a move on you, Geralt,” he said kindly, “and I don’t know if you’re too polite to decline or if I’m being too subtle-” he pulled back to look at him and his face was so fucking close. “Which, honestly, would be a first! So... What do you think?”

What did he think? His mind was an uninhabited fish tank. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light flicker. He blinked again, looking at Jaskier’s lips. His brain whispered pretty, and right then, because life always loved fucking with him, the lights and the music went out.

There was a deafening silence for a moment when everyone held their breath and then lights as bright as day came on. The crowd booed. "Oh for fuck's sake, it's the third time this month," Jaskier grumbled. “Sorry my dear but duty calls!”

He stepped down from his stool only to hoist himself up onto the bar. "Not to worry, gentlepeople!" he called out like he was standing on a stage rather than a drink-sticky counter. "The lights will go down and the music back on again as soon as our beloved Essi, Mistress of the house, puts that freaking generator back on! And in the meantime, if you would please allow this humble bard to entertain you,” he took a dramatic bow and rose up again. “Someone please toss me a folk guitar; drinks are on me!"

The crowd cheered and Jaskier got down behind the bar as one of the crew members passed over the guitar. He went off in a cheery song some people started singing along to, bathing in the crowd's energy like he breathed that very element.

Something funny and complicated was happening in Geralt's chest when a hand gently grabbed his arm.

"Come on, let's go!" Yen. "It was getting boring anyway!"

Geralt squinted at her.

"You were dancing on a table,"

"Yeah, exactly!"

It didn’t make the slightest sense but most of his conversations with Yen ended with her radiating with knowledge and him feeling stupid anyway.

"I was talking with someone," he said and instantly felt like a small child very proud to say he made a friend.

"You were what?" her voice pitched up and Geralt could tell she was a bit on the tipsy side. "Where are they?"

He looked around and back towards the other side of the bar where Jaskier was singing and playing among the crowd, flawlessly winking and flirting with every person around.

"You're right,” his voice sounded strained even to his own ears and he had to blame it on the sleepless nights. “Let's go."

It had been two weeks since they had secured the Jackdows contract and Geralt was still deep in paperwork. He'd taken yet another two-hour video call with Alveaenerle and he was starting to think that maybe Triss was right and the woman was mostly dealing with him for his looks rather than for the sake of legal liaison.

He heard the elevator doors open and checked the clock. It wouldn’t be the first time he had worked through the whole night, only noticing at 4am when the janitor came in that he had forgotten to go home. Since then, he had promised Ciri he would try to get decent amounts of sleep while she was away at Yen’s and he didn’t like breaking his promises.

When he looked through the glass wall of his shared office, however, he didn’t see the janitor. Instead, and he checked twice in case it might have been a case of insomnia-induced hallucination, Jaskier was standing in the hall. He seemed hesitant, looking right and left for any indication that he was in the right place until he saw Geralt through the office’s glass walls.

They blinked at each other, seemingly unable to move until Jaskier slowly raised a hand and waved. Geralt kicked himself and walked out of his office.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, looking a bit sheepish. "Remember me?"

“What are you doing here?” Geralt asked, straightforward as ever.

“Uh,” Jaskier said. “The security guy let me in. He must have thought I was a delivery boy or something. I uh, I got your favourite,” he raised a hand holding a paper bag that Geralt had been too distracted to notice. “From across the street? Oh! Your friend Tiff was at the bar. She said you were still at work so I thought you’d like to have dinner maybe? And like, not with me, necessarily, just, you gotta eat right?” His words were starting to run together, and Geralt didn’t see any end in sight. “And so I figured, the place across the street, they had to know your favourite. ‘Big lawyer man with long white hair’ doesn't fit many of their clients' profiles. Anyway, dinner. For you. I could stay too, if you want, I mean I am simply starving-” he emphasized the word and then looked panicked again. “Wait, was that a yes, by the way? You know who I am, right? Otherwise this is going to get so awkward-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.

“Yes!" He beamed. "That's me. Jaskier."

“I’m still not sure what you’re doing here.”

Jaskier froze for a moment, losing his shine. “We didn’t get to finish that conversation the other night. I thought that maybe...” Balancing his weight from a feet to another, he looked younger in the office light. He didn't finish his sentence, and looked like he was waiting for Geralt to respond.

“I’m working.”

“Right.”

“I’m at work,” Geralt gestured back at his office.

“Yeah, I know, I just thought- I- You're right, this was a stupid idea. Invasive, even. God what am I doing-” he took a frantic step backwards, and then thrust out the paper bag in some sort of peace offering. “Well, you should have this anyway, I mean- you have to eat, right? I said that already. Did I say that already?” He put the paper bag down on the closest cubicle desk then started walking backwards. “Sorry for,” he gestured vaguely, “showing up like that. Uh. It won’t happen again.”

Jaskier turned around, starting towards the elevators with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and Geralt thought he heard him swearing under his breath something that sounded very much like ‘such a fucking idiot’.

An uneasy feeling filled Geralt’s chest as he watched Jaskier walk away. He didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know what he wanted or why he wanted anything but he knew he didn't want this.

“Jaskier,” he called and felt so very glad no one else was working late on his floor.

“Yeah?” Jaskier turned back instantly, his face lit up by a beacon of hope.

“Do you… Do you do this often?” he asked hesitantly and felt stupid about it as soon as he heard himself. There was a beat of Jaskier looking around at the empty place before he walked back towards Geralt slowly.

“Chasing down a guy I talked to for thirty minutes because I just can’t fucking stop thinking about him? No. No, I don’t. First time, actually.”

Geralt watched the musician, noting the soft, hopeful smile forming at the corner of his lips, the closing and opening of his hands at his sides, and the way the office light was reflecting in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Twenty minutes? I need to wrap something up. Then I’m free. For dinner.” Geralt amended.

Jaskier let go of the breath he had been holding and a full smile slowly graced his face again.

“Sure. Take your time. We can heat up the food at my place.”

If twenty minutes had been a promise, Geralt would have broken it. Ten minutes later, he was done with work for the day and on his way to Jaskier’s.

“So which one are you?" Jaskier asked, leaning over his kitchen counter after discarding the take-away wrappings. "VGB or Morhen?”

“Neither,”

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“Disappointed?”

Jaskier chuckled. “No. Well, a bit, I mean," he raised a shoulder lazily and faked disappointment, "I thought you were one of those big-shot lawyers.”

“I am. I’m just not a name partner.”

"So you're a regular partner then?"

“Just barely."

"Is that a thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt took a whole second to think about it and found himself oddly relaxed with answering the question. “I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice was oddly tight.

“Yen and I have a deal. She leads the boat on the job side, excels and enjoys herself in the career she’s always wanted and worked so hard for. I pull the hours she needs me to but our focus is our daughter.”

“You and Yen.”

“Yes.”

"Wait, like Triss's dancing on tables Yenna?" Jaskier’s eyes were widening in realisation.

"Yes."

"Is she Morhen?"

Geralt shook his head. "Vengerberg."

"And she’s your ex."

"Yes."

“Are you still-”

“Friends, yes.”

Jaskier nodded slowly and seemed to be thinking about something. He put his glass away and leaned against the counter, closer to Geralt. “Do you know what you’re doing here, Geralt?” he asked so low it was almost a whisper.

Geralt couldn’t help but cast a look at his lips. “Not really.”

Jaskier slowly slipped his hand up Geralt’s forearm and the hair at the back of his neck rose.

“I was thinking maybe I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Geralt found himself suddenly very much too out of breath to answer.

"Geralt?"

"Yes."

"Yes, as in you're still with me or yes-"

"Both." Geralt interrupted before he had the chance to change his mind.

Jaskier looked surprised for a second then stood up on his toes to close the small space that was left between them. He pressed his lips against Geralt's; chaste and dry and sweet. When was the last time Geralt had been kissed like that? With care?

Jaskier's lips moved with his and Geralt felt the tip of the other man’s tongue against his lower lip, asking for permission. He granted it without question.

"Geralt?"

Geralt kissed him again and couldn't help the sigh that escaped when Jaskier's teeth grazed against his lips.

"Hmm?"

They shared another kiss.

"Couch?"

And another.

"Sure."

They parted only for the short time it took Jaskier to walk around the kitchen island. He led Geralt to the couch, pushing him slightly backwards to make the man sit so he could straddle his lap. Jaskier’s hips were thinner than those of Geralt’s usual partners. His shoulders were larger, his back more muscled, his arms- his whole body was fucking delightful and yet so very different, so very new.

"Jask?"

A kiss.

"Yeah?" It was more of a sigh of pleasure against his lips than a whisper.

"Remember when you asked-" Fuck, it was good. "About my-"

"Sorry, do you need me to stop?"

Something rumbled in Geralt’s chest, his voice almost a growl.

"No."

His hand found the back of Jaskier's neck and they sort of crashed again into each other. They kissed and kissed again and Geralt just didn't want to stop but things had to be said.

"Expertise," he finally managed.

"What?" Jaskier let go of his mouth and came back again for a peck before he sat back on his ankles to look at Geralt. His lips were red, his hair in disarray, his hand still hot on the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt was fucked.

"Expertise," Geralt said, sitting up a bit straighter, settling his hands on Jaskier’s hips. "The other night. You asked about my area of expertise."

"Uh. Right."

Jaskier had a look on his face like someone had just interrupted his hot make-out session to talk about corporate law. Geralt would know, that had happened to him more times than he would admit.

"This isn't it."

"What?" Jaskier looked bewildered. His face was an open book of unguarded emotions and it made Geralt want to kiss him even more.

"My area of expertise. This isn’t it."

"Oh." Jaskier answered, distracted by a strand of hair that fell over Geralt's eyes. He plucked the strand up between deft fingers and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear. Then he blinked and backtracked. "Wait, kissing?"

"Men," Geralt said. "Men aren't my areas of expertise."

"Oh,” Jaskier said. His hand was suspended in the air behind Geralt’s ear. “Okay, you- Oh. Okay.” he whispered again, his hand dropping down to Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt wasn't sure why Jaskier was the one blushing.

Sexual orientation had never really been a topic of conversation for Geralt growing up. Emotions were already a complex enough subject to tackle, anything that went further than caring for his brothers was not recommended. Exploration was limited. As a young man, he had gone for what society told him were the easiest ways to get sexual release when he needed it (women) and then his life tangled with Yen's and other partners faded out from the realm of his interests. When Ciri had entered their life, his very own life had taken a whole new meaning. There was little that mattered except making his daughter happy. His own personal relationships were more of an afterthought.

"Well," Jaskier started again. "We don't have to- I mean it's okay. It's good. It's all good, darling. Do you- Do you need a breather? Do you- do you even want to be here?"

"I followed you willingly, didn't I?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier chuckled.

“It’s just- What if I mess up and deter you from ever enjoying another penis ever again?" he exaggerated, the dramatic flair evident in every line of his body. Geralt snorted.

"Hey! I have a duty to the penis community and I take it very seriously," Jaskier continued as if Geralt hadn’t brushed the thought off.

"The penis community," Geralt repeated, fake awe dripping in his voice.

"The penis kingdom, actually."

"The penis continent." Geraly offered, helpfully.

"Oh, that reminds me, talking about dicks: Nilfgaard, yay or nay?"

"Argh, shut up," he grabbed Jaskier's face unceremoniously and Jaskier laughed in the kiss. His hand brushed Geralt’s cheek and everything about him seemed to slow down. Jaskier broke apart from him, a smile still on his lips, and looked at Geralt steadily like any doubt and hesitation were forgotten.

"Just tell me what you like, darling,” he said.

"I like kissing you.”

"That’s a good start," he replied and granted Geralt’s request.

Jaskier lay his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and the muscles melted under the soft weight of them. He raised onto his knees and pushed Geralt back into the couch. Jaskier was slightly taller kneeling over him, and Geralt found something delightful in having to look up at someone.

Jaskier leaned in and caught Geralt’s lips between his. His kisses were softer, slower, deeper than a minute before. Like he was taking his time to enjoy every second, to make Geralt enjoy every second. One of Geralt’s hands moved from his hip to his lower back, inviting him closer, and Jaskier slid his hands around Geralt’s neck, arching slightly into the touch. There was an intimacy about it that Geralt hadn’t expected nor experienced in a long time.

Jaskier pressed his forehead against his at every breath, his hands caressing Geralt’s cheeks, sliding into Geralt’s hair, slowly making him shiver.

Jaskier’s arms were distracting. The shirt he’d been wearing on that evening at the bar hadn't given away any clue as to the gems that were hidden underneath those sleeves. There was something feral lying deep in Geralt’s belly that was definitely ready to be manhandled.

Geralt found himself sliding his hand under Jaskier’s shirt, feeling the hot skin under his fingers, tracing the muscles along his spine.

Jaskier quickly got the message and took his shirt off between breathless kisses. He started tugging at the buttons of Geralt's shirt while Geralt’s hands made themselves at home on every inch of skin they could find. He felt goosebumps form on Jaskier’s skin and used the distraction to start laying kisses on his neck, licking and sucking the skin and taking note of the softest noises Jaskier made. The tip of his fingers slid down the hairs of Jaskier’s chest as he nibbled the man’s collarbone, and found one of his nipples on the way. Geralt caressed it tentatively and felt the shiver that went through Jaskier’s whole body when he did. Jaskier’s fingers pulled abruptly at his shirt.

“Oh god, take your goddamn shirt off, please!” The request was more of a thready gasp than an actual sentence. Geralt laughed at his enthusiasm and finished unbuttoning his shirt.

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked as he slid the shirt off Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt hummed approvingly and raised his arms when Jaskier grabbed his undershirt. They kept kissing until he felt Jaskier’s hands slowing down, tensing slightly against his chest until they were barely just touching him. He saw the look on Jaskier’s face when he parted from him and realised why he had stopped. Jaskier’s eyes were fixated on his torso, fingers hovering over one of his many scars.

“I can put the shirt back on if you want,” he offered and Jaskier’s eyes jumped back to his face.

“What? No, darling, no,” he rushed and grabbed Geralt’s face kindly, kissing him again. “I was just surprised. Is this okay? Can I- can I touch you?”

“Yeah. Of course you can,” he kissed Jaskier softly. “They haven’t hurt in a long time.”

“Can I ask- I know this isn’t the best of times but-" he bit his lip with hesitation. "Did someone do this to you?”

“Not one person in particular,” Geralt shrugged it off.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “It’s in the past.”

"Okay," Jaskier whispered and then, trying to lighten the mood he added, "was it, like, your secret service past?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Jaskier snorted.

“Just tell me you’re not in a fight club.”

“In a what?” Geralt asked, frowning.

“A fight club.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, seemingly clueless.

“You know, a fi- oh, you ass!” Jaskier yelped, slapping him lightly on the pec and Geralt laughed, grabbing the back of Jaskier's thighs right below his bottom to make him slip even further into his lap.

“How would you like to take care of my ass?”

Jaskier almost choked on his own breath and turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Are you- do you mean literally?"

"I'm not a blushing virgin, Jaskier,” Geralt said matter-of-factly.

"I know, I just mean- well if you've never- I mean are you sure you want to? With me?"

It was a sensible question but Geralt didn't want to think about it for too long. Thinking would mean trying to make sense of things -feelings, desires. It would lead to labelling and wanting to belong and- he just hated words. Words had a tendency to make things real and unmovable. Actions were so, so much better.

"You're the one who knows what he's doing, here,” Geralt said. “I'd rather it be you doing the work."

"Uh," Jaskier said thoughtfully. He probably had a PhD in literature or something based on the improbable number of books and manuscripts lying around in his flat. Geralt had even seen a couple ones in the cereal cupboard which was apparently where Jaskier’s glasses went.

"Alright then. Just. Tell me if something is not working for you, alright?"

"I will. Now can we get back to business?"

"To defeat-"

"If you start singing right now I am getting out of here," he grabbed a handful of the musician’s ass.

"Oi!!" Jaskier complained in the fakest way possible. "Wait, hold on, does that mean you've seen Disney movies- what's your favourite one?"

Geralt raised yet another very serious eyebrow.

"Do you often discuss topics that make people think about their kids when they're trying to bed you-"

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," Jaskier laughed and hid his face in Geralt's neck, full of shame. "How much do you hate me right now?" he muffled.

"Hmm," Geralt pondered, slowly sliding his fingers up Jaskier's spine. "You should probably find a way to make me forget about it."

"Hmm," Jaskier imitated, kissing the side of Geralt's neck and slowly making his way up to the man’s ear. "What if I took your pants off?" he whispered.

"Could be a start," Geralt admitted.

"What if we moved to my bed?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you had one of those."

"I can still fuck you over the kitchen counter if you're disappointed."

Geralt’s pupils dilated as he pictured himself bent over the piece of furniture, holding onto whatever he could while Jaskier pounded him restlessly.

"Bed. Now."

Geralt only got a quick look at the room (more books, more notebooks, cord instruments of all sorts and sizes) before Jaskier grabbed him by the belt and pushed him onto the bed. He followed quickly, straddling him and kissing him senseless until Geralt’s head hit the mattress.

"Can I t-" Jaskier started and Geralt tried to sit up, cutting him off with a kiss. He reached for his own belt, planning on taking his trousers off before Jaskier pressed against his shoulders and made him lie down again. He slid his fingers between Geralt’s, caressing his knuckles softly.

"Oh please, give me the honor."

Geralt almost growled with impatience and reached a hand out between Jaskier's legs, palming him through his jeans.

"Oh sweet Edith Eleanor Diana Poulton, you are not playing."

He got Geralt’s belt out of the way and undid his trousers. Geralt’s underwear followed halfway when Jaskier took the trousers off, leaving his ass bare on the sheets and the hem of his briefs so low on his hips it was practically at the base of his cock. He tried taking his briefs off entirely, feeling silly and oddly vulnerable being halfway undressed but Jaskier batted his hands off and kissed him again. He slid a hand through Geralt’s pubic hair and slowly, incredibly slowly, down, and after what felt like a thousand years, finally closed his hand around Geralt’s cock and pulled.

Geralt pushed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes as if he was at risk of losing sight if he left them open. Jaskier kissed him through the first moan of pleasure and quickly was all over him. Jaskier was kissing and licking and touching and stroking and Geralt was having quite a hard time trying to do much more than let his hand grab onto Jaskier’s hair and do his best not to sound too desperate. He was absolutely failing.

“Is this good, darling?” Jaskier whispered, kissing his neck up to his jaw and softly biting the skin there as his hand kept stroking him.

"Hmm," was all Geralt could manage and he felt Jaskier smile against his skin.

"Tell me?"

"Ah,” Geralt’s hands were moving somewhat erratically, trying to hold onto any part of Jaskier that would make him feel anchored and not as if he was going to lose his mind before he got the man’s socks off. “Yes."

"You're so good darling,” Jaskier’s kindness, Geralt vaguely decided, was fucking obscene. “You're doing so good."

Geralt felt himself blush, having no idea how any blood could flow to his face since he was pretty sure all of it was rushing to his dick. He wasn't going to last long at this rate.

"I want- I want to touch you too."

Jaskier let him open his jeans and moaned into his mouth when Geralt finally got his hand into his underwear.

“Jaskier,” he warned and Jaskier slowed down the working of his own hands.

“You alright, love?” he whispered, voice broken with pleasure.

Instead of an answer, Geralt sat up and pulled Jaskier's trousers to get his point across. Jaskier took his hands off him - the loss was fucking unbearable - to finally get rid of all remaining items of clothing and pressed himself against Geralt again, his hand on his neck. Geralt immediately got his arms around his middle to cradle him closer. Jaskier rocked slightly against him, their cocks pressing against each other and Geralt couldn't help but get a hand on both of them.

"Show me?" he croaked hoarsely and silently prayed that Jaskier wouldn’t make him beg for it because he definitely would. Instead Jaskier joined their hands together and guided him, pressing on Geralt's fingers to make him hold his cock tighter, moaning when Geralt's wrist angled exactly how he liked it.

"Oh god, yes. You're so good to me, love," he moaned.

It felt like forever and it felt like a blink. They rocked and they kissed and they moaned and Jaskier kept breathing sweet nonsense into his neck, praises into his ear, about how good he was and how good he felt and how well Jaskier would take care of him and how much he wanted to make him moan through the night but in the end, what got him over the edge was Jaskier digging his fingers onto the soft flesh of his ass, sliding in to brush against Geralt’s hole, and absolutely, definitely had nothing to do with Jaskier crying out, “Oh love, you’re beautiful!”

Geralt lost a few seconds or maybe a minute or five over which Jaskier had apparently come all over his stomach too. Jaskier was catching his breath, lying with his forehead against Geralt’s chest, trying his best not to lay all his weight over him. Geralt found the back of Jaskier’s neck, his fingers going up through his hair and drawing a comfortable groan from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing on his arm to lie a few centimeters away, his head propped over Geralt’s shoulder, their legs still intertwined together. Jaskier’s arm stretched over Geralt’s middle and the tingly waves of left-over pleasure washed over them both with every breath, content tiredness slowly taking over.

A few minutes later Geralt extracted himself from Jaskier’s grasp, not without some difficulty, and convinced himself to clean up. Washing his hands in front of the bathroom mirror, Geralt looked back at Jaskier’s face hovering over his shoulder as Jaskier pressed his chest against his back. Eyes closed, Jaskier asked: “D’you want to stay?”

Vaguely wondering about the last time he felt as comfortable as this with someone and then pushing the thought away, Geralt’s eyes lowered, looking at Jaskier’s arms settled around his body.

He felt Jaskier’s lips move into a loopy smile against his skin when he answered:

“Hmm.”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #no warnings #geralt of rivia is a little dense and jaskier is very very pretty #mine: geraskier #mine: no warning #mine: himbo geralt #mine: modern au #mine: mature #mine: of fingers tongues and toes series

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montosmadman · 3 years

Text

I was tagged by @soy-celeste ages ago. This was hard but also super rewarding because I really got to take a deep dive in the murky depths of my own music library. Thanks for thinking of me, Cata💕

Task: choose TEN SONGS that describe your personal aesthetic / how you see yourself. Bonus points if you write a little explanation for each song, that‘s not a must though.

List under a read more because it turned out really long and includes some very personal and possibly triggering mental health stuff.

I'm tagging @capitanogiorgio @hendos @furiousflamewolf @checoswin and @diegoalvesisgod

1. Nakashima Mika - 僕が死のうと思ったのは

The title loosely translates to "The reason I thought I'd die" or "The time I thought I'd die". Yes, I went there right off the bat.

Let's get something straight: I'm not suicidal. I have never been actively suicidal, despite struggling with depression and anxiety most of my teenage/adult life. However, what this song captures for me is the feeling when you're not actively thinking about killing yourself, but you do have this empty feeling when you think there's no point for you being alive. And that's something I'm very familiar with.

There are a couple lines I wanna highlight, even though the whole song hits me very hard whenever I listen to it:

その木漏れ日でうたた寝したら、虫の死骸と土になれるかな

If I lie down beneath the sunlight streaming through the trees, will I become like the dirt and insect remains?

あなたのような人が生きてる世界に少し期待するよ

If people like you are living in this world, then maybe it’s alright to hope a little too.

The first line does what I talked about to above: it's the feeling when you just lie down and wonder if anything would change if you just disappeared. The second line -- last one of the song -- has more hope. It's when you find a reason to believe in the future and realize there is still a reason to live. Personally, I'm trying to hang very hard on that last thought even when the world seems to be against me.

(Full translation in a pinned comment under the Youtube video)

2. The Ark - Little Dysfunk You

No essay here. I just needed to have The Ark on the list because they're the official soundtrack of my life, the first band whose album I bought myself, and who taught me it was okay not to fit in. I even have a tattoo that says "a little dysfunk" because my best friend and I have been relating to this song long before either one of us realized we weren't neurotypical. It's the very dysfunctional ode to our friendship, and I love it.

3. Elton John - Rocket Man

I feel like this might be a universal experience growing up neurodiverse and/or an outsider. You spend years feeling like you're alone in space, on another planet, and you want to connect with people but at the same time know that once you come back, you still won't be the person others want or expect you to be. The challenge is to accept that and realize it's okay and you don't need to change yourself for others. And it really is hard when you're raised in a society where the odds are stacked against you.

4. Sanni - Jos mä oon oikee

Look, I'm giving you something in Finnish too!

Sanni is one of the Finnish artists whose breakthrough I originally missed because I was living abroad. I only properly discovered her a couple years after moving back, when I was driving a lot for my work and hence listening to the radio much more than I used to. Her songs just kept standing out from the rest: her lyrics had this amazing depth even when she was singing about mundane stuff -- like, she was finding these painful truths I hadn't ever spoken but felt very clearly.

That said, I had to choose the one song that's actually very upfront with this idea of being an outsider and not feeling like a part of this world. The title translates to "If I am real" and that pretty much sums it up. It's a song about feeling lonely in the middle of a crowded room, feeling like no one sees you or cares what you do. I personally have this habit of taking a step back and observing people rather than getting involved -- and even when I do, it rarely feels like it's really me out there, because I'm so used to masking and acting like everyone else just to fit in, you know?

I'll finish this off with my favourite verse, translated by yours truly. The last line especially hits home super hard no matter how many times I hear it.

Rautatieasema maanantaina ruuhkaisa Kaikilla tuntuu olevan kiire ja suunta Mä oon ulkopuolella vaik seison sisällä Jos oon jo kotona miten voi olla koti-ikävä

The railway station on Monday is crowded Everyone seems to be in a rush and have a direction I'm outside even though I'm standing inside How can I feel homesick when I'm already home

5. Shobha - Last Exit To Freedom

Full disclosure: Degrassi has been one of my comfort series for many, many years. When this song was first introduced in Next Class, it hit me really hard because it was woven into this whole storyline about depression and suicide, which at the time spoke to me a lot. I repeat, I have never been suicidal, but I do get the headspace that could drive people into it.

However, listening to it again now, it's mostly the message of hope that shines through to me. It's a song that can take two very different readings depending on what your own baggage is. And the series actually acknowledges that later on, which I think is not only beautiful but also extremely important.

There's empty places in my life and I need to breathe There's empty spaces on the map waiting there for me

I've never felt more free than when I actually drop my responsibilities and just go where I want to go. I need that space to breathe, and that's why it has always been such a relief when I could just pack up and start over in a new place. Some might call it running away from my troubles -- and they wouldn't be completely wrong -- but that doesn't change the fact that I've always valued my own freedom above any arbitrary societal norms.

6. Scandinavian Music Group - Näin minä vihellän matkallani

SMG is another one of those bands I grew up on and have seen live several times, so they needed to be here. This song is more on the "aesthetic" end of scale than how I see myself. In fact, I've many times hoped I could be like the narrator of this song. I'll give you a couple of verses to explain:

Kun minulta viedään kaikki Autan kantamaan Ja kun lopulta kaadun Teen sen näyttävästi

When everything's taken from me I'll help them carry it And when I finally fall I'll do it with a flair

Minä vihellän matkallani Näin minä vihellän matkallani Jos sen on oltava niin Olkoon sitten niin

I'm whistling on my journey See how I'm whistling on my journey If this is how things have to be Then so be it

It's this carefree attitude. Laughing in the face of hardship and controversy. There's another amazing line about getting back to the saddle after you fall and swearing you'd do it all over again. I've never been able to do that, because I carry all my old failures and pains so close to the surface, and could never just shake them off with a shrug, no matter how minor.

But on another level, I keep hearing from people who I thought knew me that I don't seem depressed. And who can blame them: on the outside, it probably looks like I bounce back from hardships really fast, because I'm so used to masking my issues that the moment I'm physically capable of doing it, I will. So you might say this song is a picture of my outer self, though it hardly mirrors what's really going on.

7. Queen - Don't Stop Me Now

I'm a firm believer that if my life was a teen movie, this is the song I'd have playing in the final scene where I'd just go "fuck that" and started dancing with @mirkwoodstock in the middle of the parking lot of something. It's my ultimate party anthem, the one that always has me dancing and singing along no matter where I am.

Back when we were at the university, Nanna and I used to go to this rock'n'roll club in town and they'd always play Don't Stop Me Now close to the end of the night, and it really became our song. Like, no matter how shitty I felt, when it came on, I'd be there, and so would she. And that's why it also deserves to be on the list.

8. Blind Channel - Died Enough For You

Throwing a rare newer song into the mix. The moment I heard this song, I knew I'd be listening to it a lot. There's also an acoustic version if you're not a fan of the genre or if you just wanna have a different perspective. Blind Channel is also representing Finland in Eurovision next week, and I'm living for it.

Advertising aside, Died Enough For You takes me to some really dark times in my life. I've been in relationships, both romantic and not, where I've been carrying the other person and giving so much of myself, risking my own mental health (which was not that good to begin with) and not getting much in return. There comes a point where you have to prioritize yourself and admit that dragging yourself into the same abyss is not going help anyone. Unfortunately, usually it takes more strength to admit that and leave than to stay in the relationship that's hurting you.

I'm still talking to some of these people, but I've learned to give myself a permission to sign off when I notice that by helping them I'm only hurting myself more. Someone else's wellbeing cannot be my responsibility when I'm struggling to keep myself afloat. And I truly hope everyone who is supporting me also knows that.

9. Aqua Timez - 真夜中のオーケストラ

Title translates to "Midnight Orchestra". Yes, it's from Naruto. I discovered it back when I was still more involved in anime fandom stuff, and fell for it again year ago when I binged the anime when to lockdowns started, because I needed an escape.

And what an escape it was. Have you ever heard a song and immediately went "I need a tattoo of this", or is that just me? I'm probably not going to get a tattoo because I don't trust non-Japanese artists to get the kanjis right, but the song still captures something very real about loneliness that's not really visible but still very much there. Like, the moment when you meet a person you can truly relate to and for the first time realize you'd been feeling lonely all that time. That's what this song describes to me.

Below are a few verses towards the end of the song. I've bolded the one that first caught my attention (and which I still have as the title of my Japan sideblog).

真夜中の詩が叫んだ「僕ほんとうは独りが　嫌いだ　大嫌いだ」独りぼっちで　生きてゆけてしまうなんてこと

The song of midnight cried out "I truly hate being alone more than anything" I hate to go on living completely alone…

幸せなんて　小さなスプーンで掬えるくらいで充分なんだ分け合える人がいるか　いないかだけ

All I need is being able to scoop happiness with a tiny spoon so long as I have someone to share it with

(Full translation)

真夜中の詩は叫ぶよ「僕ほんとうは　僕ほんとうは　淋しかった」太陽の眩しさに　かき消されても

The song of midnight cried out "I was truly, truly… lonely" Even if I were to be erased by the sun's radiance

10. Jenni Vartiainen (Apulanta) - Mato

This song, named "Worm", was originally released by Finnish rock band Apulanta in 1997. The lyrics, while they might make sense as individual statements, are basically gibberish when you combine them into one piece and try to understand the meaning. There is none. Anyways, the version I chose is a remake by another artist, first performed on the Finnish version of The Best Singers format. It doesn't make any more sense, I just like it better because Jenni is hot and she made it so much fun.

And the reason it's on this list? Welcome to my brain, folks! Sometimes, especially when I'm overwhelmed by lots of external stimuli, my mind tends to just wander wherever the hell it pleases and make connections even I don't get. It also likes to forget the stuff I said just a second a go, so I can switch subjects on the go without even noticing. It's very soothing to have music that doesn't require me to make those connections when that happens.

And now, I shall close this massive post with the first verse of this masterpiece:

Minä tahdon ulos, tahdon ulos kattilasta Minä tahdon pelastaa vielä sinutkin kiehumasta Minä tahdon lentää ulos vessan ikkunasta Minä tahdon tietää kaiken teidän karkkimaasta

I want out, I want out of this kettle I also want to save you from boiling I want to fly out of the toilet window I want to know everything about your candy land

Stay safe and take care of yourselves my dears💕

#tag meme #long post #music #neurodiversity #mental health #tw suicide #tw depression #tw mental health #tw toxic relationship

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supimjustwriting · 4 years

Text

Lilia’s Storage Cleanup

Lilia Vanrouge Drabble

Summary: Here is where we find a picture as old as time or should I say sketch? While digging through his things. Lilia comes across a memory of another school. Of a different him, surrounded by different people. This is the story and sketch of a Lilia from a different time.

Inspired by the artwork by @rayosechii You can see the artwork Here

(S/N) = Student’s Name

Storage room or personal museum. Who’s to say. To the certain fae we’re following. It could be everything yet nothing. Simply a void of lasting and fading memories.

Coughs sliced through the silence of the room causing dust to dance around his small frame. Smiling at the organized chaos, Lilia gingerly Ran his fingers across the boxes, chests, and loose items nesting haphazardly upon the rickety floorboards that sang with each step.

“Now, now. Where to start? Medals? Paintings? Baby supplies?” He asked the room, magenta eyes sparkling in delight at the wooden cradle. “So, many choices yet so little time. Just how long has it been since I’ve last been in here?”

The whispers of the items around him answered him with a familiar hum. Swords asking to be polished and put back to work. Books begging for their tales to be told once again. While old military uniforms questioned when they’ll be stained and torn again.

Yet it was the most soft spoken of tunes that caught his attention. Humming to himself. Lilia closed his eyes, fingers gliding through the air as they made their way to the melody.

THUMP!

Eyes fluttering open, they’d land upon a beaten up cardboard box labeled with a language that passed on with the years.

“Now what do we have here?” The fae mused, kneeling down to open the old treasure. Lilia stared at the contents dumbfounded, eyes pricking with tears before he could even crack a smile. “Isn’t this a face I haven’t seen in awhile. How different we are now. Are you content with the way things are now?” The ravenette asked, carefully picking up the decaying drawing of himself.

Long ago in a once familiar place. The scratching of lead against papyrus filled the room causing the young, (younger[?]), man to yawn. Magenta eyes scanning the rather dull classroom. Each student gathered in their own groups or simply lost in their world.

Yet something felt off. Were his instincts off or was someone watching him? Leaning against his desk, head propped up with his arm. He’d lazy wave his gaze over the class again, only to lock eyes with a skittish human.

Chuckling to himself. Lilia approached the stranger with a rehearsed grin, eyebrow raising with the sight of them scrambling to hide their paper. Were they insulting him through a letter? If so, he’d rather hear such things come straight from them.

“May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking with? I must add though. You know it is quite rude to stare at someone, correct?” His gaze softened at their fidgeting form. Nothing about them radiated a hint of hostility. Yet those are the people you must watch out for the most, right?

“S/N. S/N,” they repeated, cheeks flushed the deepest of crimsons.

“Pleasure to meet you. May I ask what you were so keen on hiding?” Lilia questioned nonchalantly, eyes glancing at the stranger’s protective posture over their work.

“Ah! It is nothing malicious. I swear! It simply because- Well,” S/N’s eyes darted around the room as if to find the right words. “Please do not take this the wrong way but you look interesting. I wanted to capture it somehow. My apologies for the misunderstanding,” they finished, handing over their sketch.

Lilia studied the portrait of himself, fascinated. Is this how others truly perceive him? How cute. The fact S/N also managed such detail in their limited free time deserved praise itself, he thought to himself with a smile.

“You should keep it. Think of it as an apology for not asking.” piped up his classmate, a sheepish smile painting their features.

“Thank you. If you would like. I do not mind if you continue to draw me. What you are doing is flattering, if anything,” Lilia chirped, making himself comfortable beside his new found friend. “Lilia Vanrouge. Pleasure to meet you wondrous artist S/N.”

Smile growing more confident, S/N gave Lilia’s hand a firm shake. “Simply S/N. I don’t deserve to be called an artist yet. I am still but a novice.”

“Alright, future wondrous artist S/N,” seeing the other’s smile twitch. Lilia knew this was the start of an interesting friendship.

Records of laughter, smiles, adventures, and finally a dirt mound overwhelmed the male, earning the sketch a weak chuckle. Lovingly caressing the relic, Lilia laid the drawing back into its nest. Unsure when it’ll see the light of day again.

“Was that why the Ramshackle prefect seemed so familiar?” he mused to himself before shaking away the thought.

No matter how much time passes. No matter how he wishes or believes he’s forgotten. Memories always find their way back home.

#Twisted Wonderland #Lilia Vanrouge #twst Lilia #Twisted Wonderland Dandelion #?

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tiramisiyu · 4 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 4-1 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4 – Heart’s Fire: 4-1 / 4-3 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-8 / 4-9 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-15 / 4-17 / 4-18

I originally did not translate this part when translating Chapter 4, but for the sake of completion, I’m putting this here now! I am also planning to go through the rest of the Ch.4 translation to revise and check it again, in coming days.

Café

While I was sorting out Gong Cheng’s experiment notes with Zuo Ran, I suddenly received a call from Lu Jinghe.

[Flashback]

Lu Jinghe: Hey, you busy right now? Could you come out for a bit? I’m right at the café downstairs from your law firm.

MC: What is it that’s this urgent?

Lu Jinghe: I’d like to entrust you with a case, and I can’t talk about it clearly over phone. Otherwise, I wouldn’t specially come over.

Lu Jinghe: Have I impeded your work? My apologies, if it really isn’t convenient, could I meet up with you after work tonight?

Lu Jinghe: Taking up your rest time doesn’t seem to be that good either, but I…

What would trouble Lu Jinghe to this extent? My curious heart was hooked on by him.

MC: I’ve got time right now. Wait for me for a bit – I’ll go let Lawyer Zuo know.

Hearing that Lu Jinghe was looking for me, Zuo Ran furrowed his eyebrows, but he didn’t hold me back.

I hurriedly cleaned up and rushed straight to the café downstairs.

As soon as I came in, I heard the sound of Lu Jinghe’s fingers snapping. He was sitting at a booth by the window, waving at me.

MC: Since this thing has made you so anxious, could it be that you’ve noticed a clue about that fake Artist Z?

After the case where Lu Jinghe was framed for murder, he and I went to see an art exhibition again, yet we unexpectedly encountered an Artist Z counterfeit case.

To artist Lu Jinghe, the nature of this case was extremely vile. We recently have been looking for related clues nonstop, but there were no developments for now.

Lu Jinghe: It’s not related to Artist Z. What’s up, have you been concerned about that case the whole time?

Lu Jinghe: Thank you, I hope it didn’t add extra burdens onto you.

Without silver-tongued smooth talking or playful teasing, Lu Jinghe actually thanked me in complete earnestness?!

MC: You’re a bit different from usual today – exactly what issue did you run into?

Lu Jinghe: Have you heard of the person named Huang Haochu?

MC: Is it that famous appraiser and Leinster Auction House’s partner, Huang Haochu?

Lu Jinghe: Right, that’s him. He counts as the one who enlightened me on the path of art, and I’ve always respected him deeply.

MC: But I remember that last year, Huang Haochu… was murdered?

Lu Jinghe: Yes, Teacher Huang is no longer here.

Lu Jinghe: Last year, a scandal on Leinster counterfeited auction goods was exposed, and public opinion pointed towards Teacher Huang as the one behind it.

Lu Jinghe: The media claimed that Cui Yuan, Leinster’s boss, got into conflict with Teacher Huang due to accountability questions about the counterfeit case.

Lu Jinghe: In their fight, Cui Yuan used his own tie to suffocate Teacher Huang to death.

The alleged counterfeit goods scandal stated that, after a deal was reached on Leinster’s auctions, they would use fakes to replace the authentic goods, handing them to the purchasers.

The replaced authentic goods appeared on the artwork black market. Leinster sold them twice, exploiting this for large profit.

After this matter occurred, Leinster Auctions’ reputation took a nosedive, verging on bankruptcy.

Boss Cui Yuan found appraiser and partner Huang Haochu, requesting that he come forward and bear the responsibility, and to cut ties with the company, but he was rejected by Huang Haochu.

Due to this, the two fought, which led up to a murder.

MC: I saw a related report online, but my impression was… there still hasn’t been a judgement on this murder case?

Lu Jinghe: There is indeed no judgement. Plus, the true circumstances of the case is as different as can be from what the media reported.

Lu Jinghe: In their investigation, the police noticed that the police did not murder Huang Haochu maliciously. Instead, he assisted Teacher Huang, who had depression, commit suicide.

MC: Assisted suicide?! Does Cui Yuan not know that this is illegal?

Lu Jinghe: The police speculated that Teacher Huang had started considering death due to depression, to begin with.

Lu Jinghe: With Cui Yuan assisting his suicide, it would be perfect timing to use this tragedy to counter the unfavourable public opinions brought by the counterfeit auction goods, thus saving Leinster.

MC: These methods sound…

Lu Jinghe: Hah, I also don’t agree with the police’s conclusion. Plus, Cui Yuan himself has remained firm in not pleading guilty.

Lu Jinghe: After Cui Yuan was arrested, he said the whole time that he had nothing to do with Teacher Huang’s murder, and he knew nothing of the murder.

Lu Jinghe: He wants to plead innocence for himself, and has gone through several lawyers due to this, resulting in the repeated postponement of trial time.

Lu Jinghe: The day before yesterday, the court decided that a trial would be held for this case next Thursday, and they would not extend the time period again.

MC: It was probably the Public Prosecution that raised a lawsuit for this case. It couldn’t be that you’re looking for me to defend Cui Yuan?

Lu Jinghe: In name, you would be defending Cui Yuan, but in reality, I want to request you to help me find out Teacher Huang’s real murderer.

MC: Huh? You believe that Cui Yuan was not the murderer?

Lu Jinghe: No. To me, he is still one of this case’s suspects.

Lu Jinghe: It’s just that the emotional pain and guilt he’s displayed towards Teacher Huang doesn’t look at all like he’s putting on an act to be exonerated.

Lu Jinghe: I suspect that this case truly does have another, hidden story, and I can’t just sit and watch without doing anything.

MC: It’s already been nearly a year since this case, and few clues are left. Hopes of this case being reversed are very weak.

MC: Plus, it’s already Friday today, and there’s only five whole days of time. I’m afraid that there’s not enough time…

Lu Jinghe: I apologize, I know I’m troubling you…

Lu Jinghe: I also just found out about this inside info on the case. Otherwise, I wouldn’t think about investigating so long after the case happened.

Lu Jinghe: If the Lu family’s lawyers appear in this case, it would only hype up and feed into the media, and it would be incredibly unfavourable to the investigation. So…

MC: You’ve misunderstood, I’m not finding excuses to evade this. I just didn’t want to let you down. Plus, there are some things I must say upfront.

MC: If it’s just investigating the truth, of course there’s no problem. But I cannot lightly agree to being the defense lawyer, with regards to the suspect’s vital interests.

MC: I require that I meet with Cui Yuan first. Only after getting an understanding of the details of the case can I decide whether to defend him.

Lu Jinghe: We’ll do as you say. I’m already very grateful that you’re willing to try, and I naturally won’t make you accomplish anything.

MC: In a moment, I’ll go look up the files on this case to understand the details of the police’s investigation.

Lu Jinghe: Thank you for your hard work. I still ended up bringing trouble to you.

Lu Jinghe lowered his head and lifted the coffee cup, revealing a sliver of sadness as he spoke.

Lu Jinghe: People on the outside often think that the Pax Group is enormously powerful, and there is nothing that the heir to Pax can’t do.

Lu Jinghe: But it’s actually the exact opposite. I have a lot more instances of “no other alternatives” and “no way out” compared to typical people, due to my identity.

Lu Jinghe: Around me, the friends that I can speak truthfully with are very few.

Seeming like his own words induced some state of mind on him, he sank into silence, turning to look out the window.

The sun shone on his slim ears, and the gemstone studs reflected a dazzling light, but there was no way to disperse of the desolation in his appearance.

MC: Don’t you still have me? I’m your friend.

Lu Jinghe: Yes, I still have you. Good thing I have you.

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #mihoyo #未定事件簿 #lu jinghe #tot translation

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mma3youf · 3 years

Text

FA222 ,principles of graphic design:

Instructor: mr.munwar mukhtar

@uob-funoon @mnwrzmn

Project 1 : interviews

What is your given name, and user name on ZBrush Central?

My name is Khalid Abdulla Al-Muharraqi, my ZBrush Central user name is "Khalid72".

Tell us about your company, how did you start?

I set up Muharraqi-Studios to continue my family's history in the creative world and I am trying to continue to build on what my father started. The company was set up about two years ago after I left the commercial world of advertising with my partner Rashad who decided to leave a career in banking. We wanted to get together to make a place that allows us to be more creative. Since then we have been fortunate enough to work on some of the biggest projects in the middle east, and also continue working on our ideas and concepts, like our movie project. The most important thing for me is the work I do and that's what we are all about.

What is the size of your company?

The company is me and my partner, oh and our secretary... Keesha, a German Shepard! I am a hand's on guy and I do all the creative work myself. At first, I thought it was normal to carry that load because of the speed I work in, but later found out that I am actually very fast compared with bigger teams of artists in other studios. Finally I understood what people were telling me when they said I was 'unusual'. That’s why some of the CG magazines in Europe were amazed that a lot of our work is done by a one man team that puts all the 3D components together into a visualization. I work about 13 to 18 hours a day, I love 3D work, so my hobby and my work has joined into one, so … yes, very little time for a normal life.

What type of projects do you work on?

Well, I have been working on Architectural Visualizations since we started a couple of years ago, but I try to satisfy my urge to do what I really like, art!

You're located in Bahrain, somewhere most of us don't know about. Can you tell us how you learned your trade?

I love this question, Yes Bahrain is a small Island in the Persian gulf, we speak Arabic as our main language and English for the second, I will answer the second part in two parts, If you mean The art... I would say that I come from an artistic family, my father is one of the most well known artists in this part of the world, you can say that he is a household name in these parts. If you are asking were did I learn the 3D or CG art, I would say that I learned it by practicing for 8 hours a day after my official day of work, so I guess you can say I have been my own teacher in the industry.

Tell us a bit about your client base, mostly local, or do you have clients in Europe, Asia, America?

We serve clients from the Middle East, Europe and the Americas, I would say that I have been fortunate enough to have worked with some of the top people in the architectural industry, most of our clients are attracted to the type of work that we produce.

ow long have you been an artist?

Since I was six...I think! Well, the first painting I have sold when I was eleven. I was always painting and trying to find new techniques that will help create the concept in my mind.

Tell us about your background, your education, your mentors...

I studied art in Houston Texas for over seven years between interior decoration, photography, Visual communication, and digital enhancement or photo retouching, from there I have continued my working career in the commercial world. My first mentor would have to be my father, learned everything I know from him. He gave me the push start into the art world and made me feel it. There are also the books and artwork he has exposed me too with some of the top art in the world. A lot of names come to mind but I would say Frank Farazeta, Boris, The Creepy magazine and of course all the original Mad magazines and books that were very hot in the early 80's.

When you became an artist, did you first use traditional media?

For sure, I started with Pencil then got into crosshatching with ink, then I started painting with water colors and gouaches. I finally got into air brush art before I tried CG art.

What was your first CG package? What is your first 3D Package?

Nice question... first CG software was PSD, version 2, it was like magic... It felt strange especially that I was a traditional artist at the time. My first 3D package would be Alias Sketch for the Mac since I was a Mac user for a long time and did not have much 3D developers for Mac at the time. It was a new world for me and I think I still have a dusty copy of it today even after the software was canceled back in the early 90's, it just reminds me of my past.

How long have you been using ZBrush?

It has only been about six months, but I was up and running almost a few hours after I purchased it.

What made you try ZBrush?

I was watching some of the tutorial videos on how to paint details on the Gnomon training DVD's, and that's when I was shocked to see that it is art on the computer! I did not believe it at first, but It was one of the happiest moments when I first installed my first copy of ZBrush and started painting geometry for the first time, it reminded me with the days when I was pushing and pulling real clay to make a small creature of my imagination when I was a kid.

What's your favorite ZBrush feature?

The ability to paint geometry like it is physically in my hands.

How has ZBrush enabled you to express yourself in ways other packages couldn't?

Well you cant really compare it with any other software, it's simply too different! It changes how a CG artist works, it changes how he looks at things, has changed the industry to the next future leap, and who would want to go back to the past....? I would simply say that the concept of the software is very smart and impressive, my only wish to add on it is to have a bigger view port :)

Now onto "Floating Islands"Tell us about your creative process, how did this concept emerge?

One evening when I was stuck in the studio waiting for clients approval on a project that I was preparing for the kingdom of Bahrain, I was trying to get free again and relax my mind from all boundaries, I started to sketch a concept that has bean in my mind since I was a kid, the island that was then discovered to be on the back of a whale, these were some of the old middle eastern stories about Sinbad's magical voyages.

Do ideas just come to you out of nowhere, or are there particular artists or work you are inspired by?

I am always inspired by everything that is beautiful, whether it is an artist or a design or just Gods creation, I would also say that I have always had my own style in my work and almost never try to follow a certain style that I have seen.

I love this piece, can you tell me about the process of creating it? Have you explored this style before? Or was this created for something specific?

The process was, a sketch or the map as I would call it, and that would be the basis of my creation, I almost never start without it, once I crack the direction then I would start thinking about the execution and the path to take. About the style, well I don't think of my work as style, I think it is more towards I do what I feel, it is only when I am finished with it that I say "Yes! That's what I was tying to do". I almost never tried to repeat a style that I have seen elsewhere on my work. I feel that It is like a code of respect between artists.

In your image "Floating Islands" where was ZBrush used?

ZBrush helped me sculpt the geometry and take it to the next level in a short time. Modeling, UVs, Painting and scenes setups was between Lightwave and Modo. With ZBrush I was able to put the final touches that would make it come to life. ZBrush helped me start painting the UV map textures and setting up the foundation of the look and feel. I also generated some of the whales textures by the amazing ZMapper ;)

Tell us about your pipeline.

I start with Modo, then go to ZBrush, then finally render with Lightwave. The thing with software today is that they work hand in hand to complete each other, for instance ZBrush is very specialized in what it does, it focuses on the need of the artist and helps the creator to complete his task sufficiently with a smooth flow, artists have never had it this good.

What projects are you working on now?

We have just completed the visualization for the Master Plan for the Kingdom of Bahrain with one of the leading Architectural firms in the world, we have helped restructure and rebuild old and new cities for the country. Now I will be working more onto the movie project that we have been trying to get the time to start, hopefully I will be able to focus more on creating more Characters and environments for the movie.

Any last comments for us?

I would like to say Thank you to Manuel at Pixologic and Pixologic for appreciating the work I do. I would also like to thank all the development team and staff at Pixologic for there dedication to work together to help create some of the best tools ever created for the CG industry, I always expect the ideas to be fresh and most importantly designed for the end user, the artist, allowing the artist to continue being an artist without the restrictions and boundaries of a computer.

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kissjane · 4 years

Text

Like father, like son?

[I thought I’d crosspost some stories from AO3, so you may have read this already.]

Lucas tugged at his tie. He felt like it was suffocating him. In fact, the whole suit was choking him, stiff and unfamiliar. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to wear it, hell, he didn’t even know why he’d agreed to come here in the first place. No, scratch that. He knew why he’d agreed to that. Because deep down inside he still wanted his father’s approval, even after all that he had put Lucas through. And so when his dad had told him about this huge celebration at the investment firm he worked for, and that the families of the employees were invited too, and whether Lucas would be willing to come along, he’d been suspicious, surprised, but also somehow pleased that his dad would want him there. And so he’d bought a suit, been polite and gracious all evening to Véronique, his dad’s new wife, and refrained from talking about anything that might upset his dad – which crossed his mom, his friends, his living situation and his sexuality off the list and left basically just his studies. His dad had wanted to know all about Lucas’ research into molecular genetics, so Lucas had tried to explain the intricacies of his lab tests and his thesis. But after the dinner was over and the people started socializing, his dad and Véronique had stood up and started to go greet his dad’s co-workers, and left Lucas all alone, not knowing anyone.

He’d been sitting at the far end of the bar for quite a while now, bored out of his skull. He’d had a whiskey already and really wanted another one, but he didn’t think getting too buzzed would be sitting very well with his dad. Maybe it had been a mistake, maybe he should finally give up on the dream of reaching some sort of actual bond with his father. He pulled at the knot in his tie again, pondering if he could get away with just taking it off. He sighed, draining the last bit of liquid from his glass. Maybe he should go find his dad, thank him for the evening, and find his own way back home.

Suddenly a shadow fell over him as somebody sat next to him.

“Want another one of those?’, a cheerful voice inquired.

Lucas sighed again before looking up, and then he wished he’d loosened his tie quite a bit further, because all of a sudden, his throat constricted and air did no longer reach his lungs. He gaped at the sight in front of him – messy honey-coloured hair, eyes the colour of a misty sky and a toothy grin that didn’t stop at his mouth, but crept all over his high cheekbones. For a moment he wondered if he had conjured up the stranger out of pure boredom.

“Another one?”, the man repeated, a laugh ringing through the words.

“Uh, I don’t, I mean, uh –”, he stuttered – fuck, way to go, Lallemant –, and took a deep breath, “I shouldn’t. I’m trying to keep my head clear. Thanks, though…”, he ended lamely.

The stranger laughed. Lucas’ eyes travelled over his lean body, his tall frame, his broad shoulders, his long limbs.

“Not a bad plan. I should adhere to that too, probably.”

Lucas nodded, and then slapped himself mentally for his stupidity. It wasn’t like he’d never seen an attractive man before – he didn’t have to behave like the fifteen-year-old inexperienced gay boy he used to be. Although, in his defense, attractive did not begin to describe the man currently looking at him with a curious expression. Lucas almost regretted not paying better attention in his literature classes in high school, for then he might find the perfect word to describe him – gorgeous, mesmerizing, breath-taking, stunning, enthralling – Lucas didn’t feel like any of these were satisfactory.

Belatedly he realized he was gaping. He shook his head and dropped his eyes to his lap, trying to regain some mental composure, desperately attempting to come up with some form of suitable reply.

“But then again, I’ve never been good at doing what’s expected of me. I’m gonna have another one,” the stranger proceeded, as if Lucas had not just stared at him open-mouthed for a minute straight. “It’d be rude to let me drink alone, though. Please, humour me, have another one.”

Continue on AO3!

And who was Lucas to deny this god-like creature anything? He shrugged. “If you put it like that… Sure, then.”

“You always this hard to get?”

Lucas spluttered.

“Just joking! I am Eliott, by the way.”

“Lucas.”

Lucas held out his hand, and prepared for the impact when Eliott grabbed it and they shook. It still felt like his whole existence focused on where their skin touched, and Lucas hoped Eliott didn’t notice how his breath caught. Eliott signed to the bartender, who made quick work of two more whiskeys. They touched their glasses together in silence, and sipped. Lucas tried to guess what Eliott was doing here. Did he work for the same firm as his dad? God, he hoped Eliott was not an investment banker or some other financial genius, they’d never have anything to talk about. Eliott interrupted his thoughts.

“You work for the firm, Lucas?”

Lucas was about to answer, when his dad appeared out of nowhere.

“Lucas! I have been looking for you everywhere! I have been wanting to introduce you to a colleague of mine,” he said, pulling at Lucas’ arm.

Lucas was a bit perplexed by this, and turned politely to the man standing next to his father.

“Lucas, this is Michel Demaury. Michel, my son Lucas. As I told you, Lucas is a bit of a big upcoming name in his field. It’s all so very complicated, isn’t it, Lucas? He always was so remarkably good at science. He scored unusually high on the bac, too. Your son must have taken the bac about the same time as Lucas did, I believe. Oh, wait, no, how unthinking of me – I remember now, your son failed it, didn’t he? Lucas has gotten so many recommendations from his professors, and he is working at publicizing his research results, aren’t you, son? What did you say your son does again, Michel?”

Lucas felt like he was being shown off at a dog show, with the saccharine tone his father’s voice suddenly took on. He didn’t feel good being compared to somebody he didn’t even know. It was humiliating to both Lucas and this Mr. Demaury’s son. Why was his dad trying to get one up on his co-worker? Lucas almost expected to be patted on the head. He looked at Eliott and smiled apologetically.

Mr. Demaury, however, didn’t seem to mind. He looked over at Lucas, then at Lucas’ drinking buddy, and beamed. Oddly, that smile seemed somehow familiar to Lucas.

“Well, Serge, Eliott is an artist, as I’m sure you remember. He got into a very prestigious art school after he did in fact pass his bac, albeit a year late, I’m sure I must have told you.”

Eliott? Lucas looked over to his right, and indeed, there was that same smile. So not a banker, then, thank god. Lucas was intrigued. He almost forgot their fathers standing there. He wanted to ask Eliott about his art, but his father cut in smugly.

“Oh, yes, that is right. That must be a bit of a disappointment, right? An artist. How does your son expect to provide for himself by doodling, let alone for a family? Now Lucas here has got some great job offers lined up already, and he’s not even fully graduated yet. There’s lots of money in scientific research, right, Lucas? You’ll soon overtake your old father here, hahaha!”

Oh, fuck. His dad was just using Lucas to brag to Eliott’s father, and of course, he made it all about money. Lucas should have known his father would always only have one love, and it would never be his family.

“Actually, Serge,” Mr. Demaury piped up, “Eliott is doing quite well for himself. His work sells at some of the more renowned galleries in Paris, and he has so much demand for commissions he has to turn some of them down. But even if he wasn’t so successful and had to take a job in a factory to feed himself, I’d still be proud of him for following his passion.”

Lucas felt his cheeks burn. What kind of peculiar conversation was going on here? The situation embarrassed him highly, and he hardly dared look at Eliott. But the latter subtly touched his leg, and when their eyes met, Eliott was smiling even wider than before. Lucas lost himself for a moment in those cloudy eyes, and when he heard his father say his name, he had to concentrate hard on the question.

“And, Lucas, who is your friend here? Are you one of the junior bankers at the firm, young man?” His father slapped Eliott jovially on the shoulder.

“Uh, no, dad. This is Eliott… Demaury.”

For a split second, Lucas watched his father standing there speechlessly, but he quickly recovered.

“Ah, Eliott. The great artist himself!”, he laughed, somewhat strained. “So, you met Lucas. Impressive fellow, huh?”

Eliott moved delicately closer to Lucas.

“Very impressive. We were getting along rather well, weren’t we, Lucas?” His voice had dipped at least an octave, and the hand on his leg moved into a somewhat more visible position somewhat higher on his thigh. Lucas started blushing furiously.

At that, both their dads went silent.

“We had actually just decided we were going to leave to go somewhere more… private.”

He stood up, grabbed Lucas’ hand, and started walking determinedly to the exit. Lucas had no choice but to follow – not that he minded very much. He heard both his father and Mr. Demaury call after them, but neither he nor Eliott paid them much attention.

Eliott kept dragging Lucas along, all the way out and to the nearest bus station, where he finally sat down on the bench, laughing out loud. Lucas felt that laughter tingle all over his spine.

“Eliott! What was that about?”

Eliott laughed again.

“I didn’t know you where Lucas Lallemant.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Your father. As long as I remember, my dad has been complaining about one co-worker. They were hired in the same month, I believe, always vying for the same promotions and stuff. They’ve just been trying to upstage each other for the past twenty-five years, so when my dad showed up with a colleague and they started measuring dicks, or in this case sons, I just figured it had to be the infamous Serge Lallemant. There’s only one person who brings out that side in my dad. Come one, don’t tell me your dad hasn’t been nagging about mine at dinner!”

“Uh, well, my dad left us when I was pretty young, actually, and even before that we weren’t really the type of family who had nice dinners together, so…”

“Oh! Sorry, Lucas, I didn’t know…”

“That’s okay, don’t worry,” Lucas interrupted. “But if you knew your dad dislikes mine so much, why did you… imply… you know… uh… well, that we were…” Lucas once again couldn’t manage to get the words out and he felt the red creep up his cheeks once more. Fuck, he’d known Eliott for fifteen minutes and it felt like he’d been blushing for fourteen and a half of them.

Another one of those full-bodied laughs escaped Eliott, but something in Lucas’ face made him stop. He actually appeared a bit contrite, and started apologizing.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry! I mean, I just wanted to mess with my dad a bit, but I didn’t think about you! Shit, sorry! I can call your dad to tell him it was just a prank. Hope he won’t bring it up to your girlfriend or something…”

Eliott’s voice trailed off, and Lucas swallowed. Eliott suddenly stood, patted his pockets and started to light a cigarette.

Lucas studied him closely. He seemed a bit jumpy all of a sudden, and Lucas was wondering why that was.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend since I was sixteen and pretending not to be as gay as they come. If there’s one thing that pisses off my dad about his smart money-making scientist son, it’s that he fucks boys.”

Eliott turned back towards Lucas. His demeanour changed again, and his eyes travelled all the way over Lucas’ body.

“In that case…” He came closer, leaning into Lucas.

Lucas gave him the once-over, an eyebrow raised in anticipation.

“We were supposed to go somewhere private, weren’t we?”

Lucas pretended to hedge, think things over.

“That is what you told our fathers, in any case.”

“Mmmmmm,” Eliott agreed, nodding, his mouth centimeters from Lucas’. “And it would be really bad manners to lie to our fathers, wouldn’t it?”

He looked at Lucas with big puppy eyes and a wide grin, and Lucas couldn’t resist.

“I suppose it would. I’d better come with you then, save you from being punished for lying…”

“You’d better,” Eliott managed to mumble, his pupils blown wide as he came even closer.

“You’d better make it worth my time, though…”

Eliott cut off Lucas’ words with a kiss. It would have been brief and sweet, maybe, if Lucas hadn’t immediately opened up for Eliott and made it hot in a matter of seconds. So it was a while before Eliott stood, grabbing Lucas’ hand and dragging him with him.

“I think I will, Lucas, I think I will.”

#reposted from AO3 #elu #elu fic #skam france fanfic #skam france #alternate universe #AU #first meeting #I write things

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flirting-with-psychology · 3 years

Text

[zombiebandido]

Can you recommend any Neil Gaiman to me, aside from Stardust or Good Omens? I cannot

What’s the best concert you’ve been to, if you’ve been? Idk, I think I’m just not huge on concerts

What’s the funniest screenname you’ve ever seen? i-run-with-scissors-to-feel-dangerous

Is there an animal you like that most people don’t? Don’t think so

Is there an animal that you think is overrated in terms of how it’s liked? Goats or cows, maybe

Is there a time period you think is underrated? Not really

What about music? Showtunes

Do you find yourself listening to music that’s a bit more esoteric? No

What are your three favorite books and why? Harry Potter because of the worldbuilding, Mistborn because of the worldbuilding and characters, A Confusion of Princes because it is a fun standalone book

What about authors? Idk, I mostly like specific books Do you have any likes you wouldn’t tell someone until you got to know them? Nah probably not

Do you have a favorite language? Not really

What about a place you’ve always wanted to visit? Ireland

What’s something someone does or says that just makes you laugh? Idk, it’s usually situational

Do goldfish crackers ever make you sick, or is that just me? No?

Do you have a favorite art style? Probably realistic

Do you have a favorite myth/fairy-tale? No, sorry I’m being boring with this quiz

Who is your favorite person aside from family? Probably my bff

Do any of your pets (if you have them) have weird quirks? My cat was just very emphatic

Do you listen to music from anywhere besides America? Not really

Have you ever “quit” a site and came back to it more than once? No

Do you have an “odd” fascination with anything? Dice

What is the thing you want most at this moment? An interesting job and a return to normal from the pandemic

What was the last book you read and what was it about? I’m currently reading The Martian about an astronaut stranded on mars

What was the worst book you’ve ever read & why? Walk Two Moons because the twist ending fucked me up

Do you have a favorite breed of dog or cat? Which? Golden retrievers

If you like any anime/manga, what are some titles you recommend? I don’t really like it

What do you think about school in general? I thought it was interesting and I wish I could go back

What’s the hardest thing you’ve been through, & what did you learn from it? Maybe the braces. Dk what I learned from it

What are three “unrealistic” things you want most? An interesting creative job with steady and high pay lol, the lottery, the good place experience from The Good Place

What are some of your favorite foods? Pasta, chocolate, cereal. I am a simple girl

Where do you like to buy your clothes? Kohl’s, Macy’s, and thrift shops

Do you take any daily vitamins? When I remember

Who are three of your favorite fictional characters of all time? Kelsier from Mistborn, Sirius Black from Harry Potter, Raydan Lykel from The Crown and the Flame

If you had to give the world a pre-existing mythological/fictional being, what would it be? Idfk

When buying Slurpees, if you do, do you get only one flavor or mix them? Mixing is fun

Do you have a favorite 7Eleven food? No

Do you have any desire to learn (a) foreign language(s)? Which? Not strongly

If you could have any career, “realistic”-ness aside, what would it be? Something in film maybe

What are three memorable movies from your childhood? The Little Mermaid, Harry Potter, Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper

Do you, personally, put a space after ellipses, or not? Let me check... do I? I guess I do

What do some of the things that inspire you have in common? Making things

Micky D’s sweet tea, y/n/other? No

What are three of your best (non-physical) qualities? Creativity, honesty, smarts

What are three of your worst (again; non-physical) qualities? Stubbornness, anxiety, lack of empathy

What is one of your firmest beliefs? I don’t really have firm beliefs

Do you ever question things until you’re unsure of even the silliest thing? Yes

Do you have anything that keeps you from doing something you’d truly enjoy? Anxiety and procrastination, and money

What are your three biggest pet peeves (personality-wise) in others? Holier-than-thou people, acting like you’re too cool for fun, being unsafe

Do you work to fix your faults? Or at least, admit to them? I admit to most of them but I’m not so great at working on them

What are three of your best physical qualities? (NOT EYES!) Why not eyes? Other than that, I guess hair color, boobs, singing voice (at least I’d like to think so)

What are some of your greatest aspirations? Do something fun, have a good social life, see what I would look like in my prime

How do you hope the world will change, if at all? Get done with the pandemic, stop having capitalism be so shitty

Who are three (fairly known) people you find very intriguing? Taylor Swift, Voldemort, F. Scott Fitzgerald

What are three things that make you the happiest? hanging out with friends, crafts, cuddling with my boyfriend

What is/are your view(s) on god, religion, spirituality, or relations to? I don’t believe in them

Are you arachnophobic or scared of spiders in the least? YES

Do you play WoW? What do you think of it either way? No, I am just not that into video games

What kind of computer do you have? Windows 7/Vista/XP/Other? Macbook Pro

What are you good at? Crafts and school

What career do you hope to have? Something creative

Are you taking any interesting classes in school/do you not attend? I’m finished with school but I wish I could go back

If you don’t attend, are you taking any “lessons” for anything? No

A book/piece that has had an exceptional impact on your life? Harry Potter

If you know of pandora.com, what is your favorite station? I haven’t listened to pandora in ages

Have you ever “lost” a friend in any way? How did you deal? Some just faded away but some actively ditched me and I tried to find out why

Any music recommendations? Showtunes

What are at least three of your biggest fears? Spiders, living a mundane life, covid right now

Most recently read book that you liked? A Confusion of Princes

Do you have a piece of jewelry you don’t like to take off? No, I have so many that I like to alternate them

Do you have a favorite quote? Why is it your favorite? Carpe Diem. Haven’t lived it much lately though Any odd pastimes you have? Making lists and charts

Are you quirky in any way? (Name them please). My fashion sense especially in high school, the nerdy things I do

Have any practices you aren’t opposed to but wouldn’t do yourself? Probably a lot, I’m generally of the live and let live mindset

Political standing?

Left

Do you have any piercings/what do you think about piercings? I just have my ears pierced

Do you have a favorite material? I’m a fan of soft materials like suede or velvet, also metals like copper and silver

What are three names you’d name a pet if you HAD to get a pet right now? It depends on the pet

Do you like to listen to dorky/amusing music? Idk

Coffee vs. Tea vs. Energy Drinks: Order from favorite to least favorite. Tea, energy drinks, coffee

Do you like more “fruity” sweets or “savory” sweets? Fruity unless it’s chocolate

What do you hate the most? Spiders

What genres of music are your favorite? Showtunes

Do you believe in true love? Idk

Do you believe in love at first sight? If yes, why? No

What are some of your favorite clothing accessories? Jewelry

If reincarnation exists, what sort of person would you want to be next?

One of those outgoing guys that always has adventures with his friends What are some things you believe strongly in? Idk

Where’s your favorite place you’ve been? London was pretty cool, also Italy

What sort of books and movies do you like? For books: sci-fi, fantasy, dystopia. For movies: rom-com, sci-fi, musical

What’s your favorite thing to do on a rainy Saturday? Idk, just stay in

Is there a book you’ve read that really touched you? The Great Gatsby just because I related to Gatsby a lot

Do you have a favorite artist? Taylor Swift

PC or MAC? Mac

What do you love doing? Crafts, shopping, board games

If you could create the perfect world for yourself, what would it be? Basically just the good place from The Good Place. Unlimited time and resources to learn and try things without pressure to make money off it

Do you think that fate plays a part in people’s lives? Not really

Are you religious, spiritual, atheist…? Atheist

What are your opinions on the media? The media is a very broad range of things

Do you think that people throw the words “love” and “hate” around too much? Idk

What is your favorite piece of technology that you own? My laptop

What’s a piece of technology you’d like to own? I have what I want at the moment.

Are you afraid of technology developing to where we’re too reliant on it? A little bit of getting to the point where a lot of jobs get replaced with AI, because instead of making lives easier like they could be, there will just be a huge unempolyment problem that our stupid capitalist society won’t solve

Does it bother you when people do things to fit in with a certain crowd? If it’s not what they want to do

Hot or cold? Cold Do you think that Bzoink should extent the character amount for questions? I don’t use Bzoink

Do you have a favorite combination of complimentary colors? Maybe green and pink

Do you know why all the young people who have nice cars always look grumpy? I don’t think I’ve noticed that

What’s your favorite odd ice cream flavor? Lemon Sorbet or Coffee Toffee Bar Crunch

Where do you like to get your ice cream? Haagen Dasz or Ben and Jerry’s

What’s your opinion on stereotypes/labels? Idk

Do you ever use random word generators for Bzoinkoids?

What?

Do you believe that history repeats itself? It sure seems like it is

Would you rather learn from your mistakes or just undo them? Learn from them

What was the most interesting class you had in school? My words and music class in college Do you write? If so, what? I used to write poetry, I sometimes come up with stories but I don’t really write them

Do you have a favorite website? Tumblr and Etsy

Do you think that the quality of TV shows is going down? No, there are usually good ones to discover

Do you have a favorite culture? Maybe Celtic. I just like the art patterns What was a story you heard as a child that really affected you? The Headless Horseman scared me a lot

Who was your favorite grade-school teacher and why? My third grade teacher and my 6th grade math teacher

Do you think that the world will end? How? Probably in a few billion years when the sun turns into a red giant

Do you believe in Global Warming? Have you researched it? Yes but I haven’t researched it

Do you prefer piercings or tattoos? Tattoos

Do you remember your dreams? Sometimes

#survey

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fic-al · 3 years

Text

Oops hadn’t realized I didn’t post the final chapter on here previously.

Easter Bernie: Easter Sunday.

Here's someone who really loves you. Don't ever go away.That's what these walls would say. (If These Old Walls Could Speak, Jimmy Webb)

“Right over left, round and then through,” Fred repeated again, as he secured Reggie’s tie. “You will get the hang of it, son, easy when you knows how.”

“Thanks Uncle Fred,” Reggie was determined, he would master the tricky accessory by the end of the day. It couldn’t be more of a skill then changing a beer barrel, and he could do that.

“Oh, look at you two, all suited and booted, don’t you look smart,” Violet emerged from the Crown kitchen, wearing the dress and coat she had worn for Chummy’s wedding.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Violet,” beamed a perfectly groomed Val in a coral trouser suit and cream silken vest top.

“Who has one of those phone things, that takes a picture?” Evie asked, smoothing down a new floral dress she had treated herself to.

“Everyone Evie,” Val laughed, “Except you and Paddy.”

“Must be a pub thing,” added Jack, coming through the door, to cries of dismay.

“Jack, you are in jeans,” cried Vi.

“Talk about letting the side down,” remarked Fred.

Jack looked abashed, but added, “Thought I would stay behind, make sure no-one breaks in and steals all the eggs.”

“Jack, you know Paddy want’s us all to attend Easter Service this morning. If we are having a joint Easter Festival this year, it starts at ten o’clock at St. Preservus,” admonished Vi.

Jack looked at his trainers. That were at least clean.

“Let’s say no more about it, you will have to do,” Evie concluded.

The last member of the party had arrived through the door marked Private, that led to the living quarters of the Crown. Paddy gave a harsh look at Jack, but said nothing.

“You always scrub up well Mr T, you should wear suits more often,” blushed Vi followed by Paddy.

Val brought him back down to earth, “Would you like me to do your hair?”

Paddy gave Val the look reserved just for her and her cheek, the one that kept her quiet for about five seconds.

“Right then, is everybody ready?” another glance at a fidgety Jack, Paddy continued, “Bernie and Tim are meeting us there.”

xxxx

The Crown seven shuffled into the pew at the back of Saint Preservus, led in by Vi and ushered in by Paddy bringing up the rear.

“Hello, I see the naughty pew has been taken this morning,” beamed Peter Noakes, “that is usually reserved for the Noakes family.”

“Have we stolen your seat?” laughed Paddy.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t the Crown, there won’t be a fight,” joked Peter as he and Camilla sat in front with Phyllis accompanying Lady Keville and aromatherapist Jane Sutton. “Looks like that’s the Crown pew this morning,” Phyllis winked at Paddy.

“Shove up!” the southern accent demanded, faintly attempting the local dialect.

“Trixie, that’s the pub pew this morning, come and join us,” Chummy suggested.

Paddy had already shifted for Trixie to sit down,

“I am representing Bernie,” Trixie grinned.

“Trixie is Team Crown,” Val added on the other side of Paddy.

“You ready for today, Trixie?” Paddy asked.

“I think so, I have some understanding of an egg hunt and even the hill rolling, but jarping remains a mystery to me,” Trixie informed him in all seriousness.

Paddy leaned in and kept his voice low, aware of his surroundings.

“Right then, the Crown and Church Easter Jarping Tournament, or as it was formerly known, the Crown Inn Easter Jarping Tournament. It's very easy to understand the rules.”

“I believe you,” Trixie smiled, but did not laugh.

Paddy leant forward in an attempt to not be overheard and Trixie followed him, “It is played in a knock-out format, like the FA Cup.” Trixie nodded she understood, Paddy continued his voice below his usual range. “Each contestant selects a hard boiled egg prepared by a neutral source.” Trixie nodded she was following. “Competitors divide into pairs. One is the holder or Jarpee and the other is the thruster or Jarper. You following Trix?”

“I think so?” she whispered back, her cheeks slightly flushed. Paddy swallowed and continued at the lower vibration.

“The holder grasps their egg with their dominant hand revealing just the tip. The Jarper holds their egg also in their dominant hand. The Jarper needs to know they can make a firm contact with the other egg, so gently rubs the end of their tool against the opponents to ensure the certainty of contact. So the Jarper has one attempt to make a clean strike. You following?” Paddy paused.

“Yes,” Trixie assured in a rather higher pitch than she intended, “It’s very warm in here, or is it just me?” she added removing her scarf. Paddy nodded still sat forwards whispering into Trixie’s ear.

“The pair then swap places and repeat this series of events. Everyone has a turn with everyone else. Once both tips of your egg are cracked, you are eliminated. The winner is the final competitor to have at least one end intact.”

The congregation hushed as Tom Hereward arrived in the pulpit, to start the service, just as Chummy who was sat directly in front of Paddy and Trixie exclaimed a little too loudly, “I’ve never been more aroused.”

Timothy Turner sitting at the organ, couldn’t help turn toward the back of the church to see where all the sniggering was coming from. To be honest, he knew exactly where the laughter was coming from, but he had to look. Lucille, in front of her choir, exchanged glances with him and they shrugged their shoulders. He looked at Bernie, who was shaking her head and glaring at the back of the church. Tom Hereward was looking a little flushed and said, “Shall we begin.”

xxxx

Back at the Crown it was all stations go. Violet gave a wicker basket to Fred.

“These are the onion peel dyed eggs, for egg rolling down Crown Bank. Take them to the back of the pub and remember it is one egg per child.”

“I wondered where that pong of onions was coming from. They do look pretty though, but don’t half pen and ink,” the brewer preferred a more hoppy odour.

“Jack, you take these plain eggs to the beer garden. There is a table set up with colouring pens and markers for the more artistic types. Remember one egg per child,” Jack nodded at Violet to reassure her he had got it.

“That leaves the jarpers for later. The Church are in charge of the Easter Egg Hunt around the village. I just hope they haven’t made it too difficult for the little ones,” Violet took a breath.

“I think it was Tim and Lucille who hid them, so should be all right Vi,” Val reassured with a wink.

xxxx

“So I just drop my egg down the bank?”

“Trixie, you must have rolled an Easter Egg before?” Bernie thought her friend was deliberately being dense.

“You mean one smelling of onions, can’t say I have,” Poplar's latest resident snapped back.

“No wonder we want to shot them away down the hill,” laughed Fred.

“What is the point?” Trixie wasn’t satisfied.

“It’s just a laugh, you race your pals and see how many times you can roll it, before it cracks,” Bernie was losing patience.

“Represents the stone rolling away from the tomb,” Paddy interjected, Bernie made a shocked face and Paddy grabbed her by the waist and said, “What? I am not a complete heathen,” threatening to roll her down the hill.

“So once I have rolled this, I have to go down the hill, retrieve it and if it hasn’t cracked, do it again, until it does?” Trixie said, keeping a wide berth from wrestling Paddy and Bernie, the latter now screaming.

Fred feeling a bit awkward himself with the tactileness of the moment, nodded at Trixie,

“Better get a move on love, don’t want to miss the start of the duck race.”

“Sorry?”

“The duck race down the Tweaven, first duck to Mount Busby wins.”

Paddy interrupted, suddenly letting go of Bernie, who actually did stagger a few feet down hill before achieving traction. “My favourite bit,” he grinned.

“You race real ducks, that is medieval,” protested Trixie.

“This from the Poplar sheep rustler,” corrected Paddy.

Bernie saved the situation and herself from joining the eggs at the bottom of the hill,

“They are not real ducks, Trixie, you know those ones you put in your bath, those rubber ones. You put your mark on one and the first one Reggie spots at the farm, wins.”

“Who has a bath these days? Haven't you all got showers yet?” Trixie was confused.

Paddy huffed. Bernie added, “You might be the one at the farm, waiting for a duck next year.”

“I don’t think that is in my job description,” Trixie added, but she didn’t look convinced.

Fred and Paddy were trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, “Fancy a pint, Fred?”

“Not arf, Doc,” he replied, already heading for the pub.

“You are all as cracked as these eggs,” Trixie said, delicately tossing her egg southwards.

xxxx

Trixie walked back to the front of the Crown and wondering if she was doing the right thing moving to potty Poplar. She made her way to the beer garden and was surprised to see her new employers surrounded by sticky fingers and loud chatter. Turner Prize nominee Patience Mount, was decorating eggs with the village children. She was helping a few of the Sunday School class with their fragile Easter bonnets, some of which looked more like caps or helmets.

Delia, never far away, stood guard over a cardboard box, where a couple of fluffy yellow chicks were being coo’d over. Phyllis was still accompanying Lady Keville, who had brought a large selection of knitted egg warmers in all the colours of the rainbow. They were showing a group of children how to make the pom-pom version of the tweety little critters in Delia’s box. Lucille had been delighted with these knitted extras, and had Tim yarn-bomb Poplar, distributing them around the village, as part of the Easter Egg Trail.

Trixie was feeling a little bit lost. Bernie had returned from the egg rolling in one piece and was now interrogating Paddy, “What were you all laughing at in church, tell me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he winked at Trixie.

Trixie grinned, “I feel like a vegan in the hen house. What can I do, to help at my first Poplar Easter Festival?”

“Well, you are good at sales, you can be in charge of the raffle,” Paddy said, as if he had given her the combination to his safe.

Val placed on the bar a huge cuddly grey and white rabbit, holding a large gold foil covered chocolate egg. Trixie forced a smile.

“There are a couple of envelopes there too; Second Prize is a Mount Busby Alpaca Day Out and third prize is a Meal for Two at the Crown.” Paddy announced proudly and Trixie suddenly connected with her new life.

Until Bernie spoilt it, “Fourth prize is an Alpaca Day Out and a meal at the Crown,” laughing hysterically at her own joke. While Trixie, Val and Paddy refused to. Even though Val’s lips were twitching.

Valerie passed Trixie a tupperware box full of coins “A float; to get you started, they always come with notes.” Trixie smiled a little bit.

xxxx

The sun was lowering behind the Cleveland Hills, cooling the Crown beer garden. The last of the tables had been cleared and the clutter added to the recycling bin. Val was taking orders for drinks. The children had all gone home. The Two Loves had taken Antonia back to Bagnall Hall. Trixie sat proudly admiring a brightly decorated toilet roll inner with a bright yellow toy chick with a wonky beak, stuck on the top with blu-tack.

“I can’t believe you won the Egg Jarping, Trixie,” Bernie shook her head.

“Beginner's luck,” shouted an envious Jack.

“Expert training,” suggested Paddy.

“What are you going to do with your trophy, Trixie?” laughed Val

“Put it on top of Bernie’s telly,” Trixie said emphatically.

“That monstrosity is not coming into my house,” Bernie cried in mock indignation.

“Oi, Tim made that,” Paddy yelled.

“About ten years ago, Dad!” Tim blushed in horror. Lucille and Jack’s laughter adding insult to injury.

Tom and Bobby and baby Hereward appeared. It was the first time they had been seen since church. They had been overseeing the egg hunt around the village and offering refreshments at the church, a role Bernie had envied.

“The church is locked up, and the village is litter free,” explained Bobby to Julia who was sipping on a Crabbies’ ginger beer, emphasis on the beer.

“Splendid, everyone has worked so hard today,” Julia commented. “That little one looks tired,” she added, observing a grouchy baby in Bobby’s arms.

“She actually needs changing,” Bobby explained.

Val, who was passing Evie a pint of Easter Egg Ale informed the young mother, “The toilets are just inside Mrs Hereward, the changing facilities are in there.”

“Oh thanks, Valerie,” said Bobby and moved toward the backdoor.

Tom held up a hand, “We should really be getting home, love.”

“Aren't you two stopping for a drink, we’ve all earned it,” asked Julia, taking another sip of her memory.

“No, we better get home and get this little madam seen to,” Tom laughed weakly.

“Be quicker, just to change her here if she's uncomfortable?” Phyllis, sipping on a double brandy, offered.

“I would rather we went home,” replied Tom curtly.

“The facilities here are excellent. I should know, I make sure they are spotless every morning,” Evie’s tone held authority.

“But it is 6pm,” Tom’s voice had a higher pitch now.

“Bernie or myself, check the loos every hour. If you look on the door, we have to sign to say everything is in order,” Val couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Look, you’re all very kind, but I don't want my daughter being changed in a pub toilet,” Tom’s voice was adamant.

Evie looked as if she was about to combust.

Julia intervened, “Tom, maybe you should get your family home, we have all had a long day.”

“And confusing. I am sorry, but I really haven’t seen the point of this. We welcomed everyone to church this morning, for the most important date in the Christian calendar, and then chased them all to the pub. Where is the message in that?”

The youth minister's words left the beer garden in a dense fog of discomfort. Julia looked lost for a moment. It was Phyllis who spoke up,

“Today was about community lad, bringing the village and the wider area together. These two buildings have been central to this village for over 300 years. It’s about time they came together.”

Phyllis had given Julia time to compose herself, “We will discuss the issues you have raised concerning a joint festival in a meeting tomorrow, Mr Hereward.”

Baby Hereward was becoming more grumpy, and Bobby was struggling to placate her. Paddy, who had been very quiet through this most recent exchange of views, offered quietly.

“Mrs Herward, your daughter seems very unhappy. Would you like to take her upstairs to the flat? Where you can have ample space and privacy.”

“Lets go Bobby, I will see you tomorrow, Reverend,” Tom nodded at Julia, Bobby didn’t have time to acknowledge Paddy’s offer, as she was pushed by her husband towards the door.

Someone with not the longest fuse in Poplar, had sweaty palms and a racing heart and a mouth she couldn’t keep shut.

“If yer have issues with the joint festival, then that is fine, Mr Hereward, as Reverend Lewis said that needs to be discussed between you tomorrow.” Everyone recognised the north of the border twang. That wasn’t done yet.

“But I have issue with your attitude right now concerning this house, it is so much more than an alehouse, it’s a place where people work, it is a home.” Tom stopped in his tracks, Bernie went on,

“Your place of work just happens to be the House of God. Now we were invited into that house this morning and everyone here, acted in a respectful manner.” Bernie took a breath. There was some awkward shuffling on the garden benches. She was on a roll though,

“You were invited into our home today and I feel you have not returned that respect. To say the Crown isn’t a fit place for a child, maybe you want to take a look at Timothy Turner, he was raised here. Would Mrs Turner have chosen this as a home, if she thought the Crown wasn't a fit place for a child? I think he has turned out pretty OK, don’t you?”

Tim wished at this point, that people would just remember who he was, and not feel the need to check by staring at him. Fortunately Bernie went on,

“Surely what matters is not whether it is a House of Prayer or a House of Refreshment, but a House of Love. And you can take my word for it, for what that may be worth. This house is just that. There is so much love in this house, I am only sorry yer canae feel it.”

Later Trixie said that she started the clapping, but everyone was sure it was Val, followed by Lucille. There was definitely a “Well said lass,” from Phyllis and somebody, maybe more than one, said her dad would be proud. Was there an Amen? The kids just said, “You don’t mess with our Bernie.” Did anyone notice Paddy said nothing, he just beamed with pride. If pride was a signal the Crown was 5G?

xxxxx

“I am barred from St Preservus.That’s the Mission I have offended and the church in one week,” Bernie complained.

There was only her and Paddy now. The sun had gone to its rest behind the hills. They sat on Frank and Peggy’s bench sharing a secret ciggie, Bernie perched on Paddy’s knee.

“Nonsense, Julia totally supported you. It’s Mr Hereward who should be worried and as for the Mission, does that really matter now, Bernie?”

“Mr Hereward is young and idealistic, everything is black and white to him, I used to know someone else like that,” she smiled stubbing out the butt of the fag, they hoped Tim would never know about.

“What happened to her?” Paddy said, turning her face gently towards his with both hands.

“She came home,” she smiled and kissed him tenderly, in a way that she was just beginning to understand.

“Bernie, you know this can be your home, whenever you want it to be, on whatever terms you want.” He looked at her intently. Bernie knew if she didn’t save herself, she would drown in those eyes.

“You know what I do want?” she kissed him on the forehead and pushed back his unruly hair. He just raised both eyebrows saying tell me?

“Are those pink wafers still behind the bar?”

“Go see,” he laughed, helping her off his knee.

Bernie almost ran to the bar. She found a package wrapped in gold foil with a red bow. She ripped open recklessly the carefully wrapped box. Only to find a large brightly coloured tin which read Huntley and Palmer Superior Biscuits. Bernie’s expression looked like it was Christmas, birthdays and Easter all at once.

“Paddy, I bloody love you.”

Paddy smiled, “Happy Easter, Bernie,”

#call the midwife fic #easter bernie #easter sunday #sorry i hadn't realized I hadn't posted on fic-al

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hexusproductions · 4 years

Text

Andromeda

Summary: Q-pid and DJ Subatomic Supernova organise a collaboration on a song. It could be good, if they ever manage to get along for long enough to finish it. Author’s Note: Based on my post about Q’s relationship with other NSR artists, this is my first finished Q-pid story! Also my first finished story for No Straight Roads. If anything it was good practice for writing both him and DJSS.

The idea had sounded good on paper.

I like DJ Subatomic Supernova’s music. I’ve been to several of his concerts – as myself, of course. He does have a bit of a mouth, but it isn’t like he’s all talk. He’s on the NSR panel, after all. So when my manager first brought up the idea of a collaboration, my first thought was; Dinner for two amongst the stars. Oh, how romantic.

I don’t think dinner is in the question, obviously, but I’m sure something along those lines will be incorporated into the music video.

Now I’m standing in the middle of Club Planetarium – vacant, the screens on the circular walls turned off – a mere meter or so away from DJ Subatomic himself. I think, as far as I know with his head lacking a face and all, that he’s looking at me during his conversation. My manager Frank looks nervous, talking to both DJ and Tatiana on speaker-phone. But he can be persuasive when he’s trying to convince someone that something is a good idea.

My attention stays on Supernova. I keep the smile plastered on my face, and make it a little more friendly, just for good measure. Supernova’s shoulders jump – a snort? – and he turns back to Frank and Tatiana.

It’s fine, maybe he isn’t a fan of cheer. That isn’t my fault. It makes a nice contrast.

I return to Earth in time to hear Frank and Tatiana telling DJ what a wonderful idea this is. DJ sighs, defeated, and agrees to ‘stoop down’ to my level. Apparently, he thinks himself higher than an immortal love spirit, but okay.

DJ and Frank turn back to me as Tatiana leaves. Frank gives me a quick look, and I expertly hold back an eye-roll.

“It really is a pleasure to meet you in person. I’m a very big fan.” One hand over my heart, the other extended. Perfect.

“Of course you are.” DJ stands up, pushing himself out of his big chair. I manage to keep the Q-pid greeting pose, but for a moment…wow. He’s, taller than I thought. Oh, wow.

He takes my extended right hand in his left, a brief firm handshake.

“I look forward to working with you.” There’s a softness to my voice, to my smile, but I’ve stayed in character. Of course, I always do. It’s never been difficult for me.

I can feel that gaze again, taking me in with the barest amount of interest. Hands on the hips are too imposing, so I clasp my hands loose behind my back instead. DJ’s head tilts a degree, and he raises a hand to gesture as he speaks.

“Indeed. The infamous being of love, journeying into the depths of the cosmos. It may be quite promising.”

-------------------------

“Q!” Frank bangs on the door, trying the knob again. It’s still locked. I’m not getting up and I am not answering him. Everyone is going to stew for a while, and that’s fine by me.

DJ is so stubborn. I’ve tried everything I can to get along with him, but I can only be called a moron so many times.

I slide further down on the sofa I’m sitting on, arms crossed tightly.

All he’s done so far is shoot down all of my suggestions. The whole point of a collaboration was to meet a middle ground, not release Subatomic’s new song with a gorgeous singing voice in the background. I’m not asking for much, just to be able to put my own touches on the song, my own input. I give him a beautiful scene of Q-pid whisked away into the arms of the stars, falling in love with the universe that he’s been reborn into to experience – and he shuts it down completely! Obviously he doesn’t understand what I was picturing. NSR panel artist or not, there’s no excuse for being so ignorant.

I’m squished into the cushions uncomfortably, but I still refuse to move, even to adjust position. Frank is still knocking on the door.

“You agreed to do this album! You don’t want to disappoint your fans, right?” Frank calls back loudly, clearly talking to more than just me, “I’m so sorry about him, he can get intimidated when he meets other talent.”

I whip my head around, letting out an offended scoff before slapping my hand over my mouth. I glare at the door over my palm. If you are so determined to cover up my frustration, at least come up with a good lie!

There’s a small thud against the surface of the door, and Frank’s voice comes through the wood.

“Q-pid!” He stage-whispers, “You get your wings out here right now! You are finishing this single!”

I remove the hand, but not the glare, though it loses strength as I tap a foot against the floor. Frank is getting impatient, and the angrier he gets, the less willing I am to fight him. I don’t want to be fired. I can’t lose Q-pid.

I slide open the lock, pulling the door open wide enough to stand in full view and look out. Frank is there, hands thrown up in the air. Far behind him is DJ, his own arms crossed in an irritation not shown on his empty snow globe head.

“Now, see? Now can we please get back to work??”

I take a long look at DJ that drags across to Frank. Frank takes a step to the side, sweeping his arms in an ‘after you’ shepherding gesture. For a second, I consider taking advantage of the fact that he insisted I stay in costume for this and flying off. But that earlier fear still lingers, and I take a few sluggish steps forward instead. Frank reaches around and closes the door behind me.

DJ uncrosses his arms, weight moved to one foot. Now that we’re in the same room again, I can see Frank take a breath. He shakes off his anger from, oh, about twelve seconds ago, somehow going back to cheerfully pushy. I’ve done the same in other occasions, so I can’t really judge him for that.

“There. No need to get upset over creative differences, right?” Frank tries, smile crooked.

“Yeah, creative differences.” I echo hollowly. Frank has the same look as when he was talking to Tatiana, sweating bullets. He shuffles over enough to grab my arm, and I make sure to stay where I am, even if I want to pull away.

DJ scoffs at both of us, dripping with smug superiority.

“You both overestimate my investment in this project.”

“Of course. We’re just very eager to work with you! We just want to do our best to live up to your standards.” Frank squeezes my arm and I roll my eyes, feeling his pointed gaze from above his slatted smile. DJ hums, seeming to ponder over Frank’s words.

I glance to the candy heart bracelet around my wrist, my small reminder. I let out a huff – tiny, ‘relieved’, with a noticeable rise and drop of the shoulders – and give DJ a smile.

“I hope you can understand.”

Not being able to read his face is infuriating. It makes the long pause that follows even worse, keeping that ‘simple misunderstanding’ air permafrosted around myself while I wait for his response.

“You are but a fleeting moment in an ever-expanding universe.” DJ turns to fully face me, looking down in the process as he waves an open palm, “Your insistence on behaving as if you are less mediocre than any other being is charmingly misguided.”

The smile on my face brittles, eyes widening the tiniest amount. If my feet weren’t planted on the ground, I would test if DJ can still spin records with a broken finger!

“It’s fine.” I say, each word slow and maybe a tiny bit barbed, “It’s alright if you’re intimidated by me. Are you ready to work together now?”

“If you can cooperate for five minutes, maybe-“

“Okay!” Frank interrupts, loud enough to speak over any further arguing. He puts an arm around my shoulders and an arm on DJ’s shoulder that is quickly shrugged off. DJ starts walking back to our shared space on his own, and Frank pushes me along after him. For the sake of character consistency, I cull my expression into a neutral line.

-------------------------

There. It’s finally finished. Andromeda (Star-Crossed Lovers), by DJ Subatomic Supernova and Q-pid.

I pack away the last of the things I’ve brought with me, taking a quick glance to the time on my phone.

My manager is patting himself on the back. I don’t know why, but maybe he’s relieved that it’s finally over.

It’s taken a week to finally complete the song. In that week, Frank has had to convince at least one of us out of a locked room almost daily. Getting to a middle ground where we’re both happy with the final product has been like walking through glass.

I zip my phone away in a pocket and walk back through Club Planetarium. DJ is standing behind his deck, watching it swivel back around into an armchair. I grunt but give him a tiny smirk, even though he can’t see it.

I do still respect DJ as an artist. And yes, maybe some of his decisions did improve the final result overall. But I’m not going to forget how stubborn and frustrating he really is face-to-face. It is so much worse than the snippets I’d heard before starting this collaboration.

DJ’s head turns and notices me approaching, and he takes a few steps away from his precious podium to meet me. I look him up and down in the brief moment of silence. I’m used to it now, the amount of height he has over me. He isn’t intimidating, he’s just hard to read, that’s all.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon.” I tell him, and shrug as my gaze falls on his equipment, “You managed to make something nice, with my help of course. I believe a thank you might be in order.” DJ repeats his full-body scoff, then points a finger at me.

“Your record company were the ones who begged for my help. All you’ve been done is scramble to improve your already fading grip on your limited existence on this planet.” He pulls his hand away as soon as he finishes speaking. I choke on a laugh and return that accusing tone right back onto him.

“You want your name on this track as much as I do. It isn’t my fault if you pretend that you don’t.” I follow my retort by giving him the caring, tender-hearted Q-pid beam, “Jealousy isn’t a very good colour on you, starlight.”

“Jealousy?” DJ crosses his arms, “Do you have a compulsive need to be wrong, or are you just that dense?”

I splutter, trying to come up with an appropriately scathing retort. Frank walks out from the same room I had just been in, pulling and shrugging on his suit jacket.

“Hey.” He interjects, stepping between us, “When all’s said and done, I think we did a lot of good work here. How about we let bygones be bygones?”

I continue to glare at DJ, arms crossed. Frank clears his throat loudly. When I don’t respond, he jerks his head towards DJ. I shoot him a glance and silently concede, focusing on getting back into character.

“You’re right.” I agree, and then smile like sunshine, “How about we kiss and make up?”

“You had better not.” DJ warns. My smile tightens into a grin. I wave a hand to brush off his response, as if he’s just confused.

“I was only speaking metaphorically.” I say lightly.

“I was not.”

I’m paused for a split second, hand still hanging in the air. I swear, he’s nothing but a brick wall. But Q-pid would laugh, so I laugh.

“Oh you are indeed charming, Mr Supernova, for someone so empty-headed.” The backhanded compliment sounds just as sweet as if I were asking him to marry me. DJ bristles.

“I have had just about enough of you.”

I take a step forward, looking up and meeting him in where I gather his eyes are. I’m trying to goad him into a further response, to have the satisfaction of knowing I’m getting underneath his skin.

Frank’s hand falls on my shoulder.

“Okay. You’re both tired, you’ve both been working hard. How about we call it quits and head on out?”

Yes please, I am begging Frank to let us leave already. The wings attached to my back spread and I start to take off down the path to the exit. It must seem like a drift from their perspectives, but I’m hurrying as fast as I can without looking too eager.

DJ turns his head from me to Frank, who’s still trying to smile and keep the peace. That smile wobbles even more under DJ’s blank stare.

“Yes, hurry off now. I have officially finished with this endeavour.”

“Oh, then we wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any further.” I reply, holding a hand to my chest. Frank seems to ignore our entire back-and-forth, wandering along after me, still looking at DJ with all kinds of colourfully encouraging body language.

“Thank you. This is going to be great, you won’t regret this!” Frank promises, “I’ll be in touch!”

“We should really be going.” I sing-song, flittering above the floor.

“Alright, alright.” Frank agrees, catching up to me. DJ is shaking his head, dropping back into his chair. Raised eyebrows are the only thing that betray my newly cheerful demeanour, a substitute to supress the glower I want to give him. I pull up to hover above Frank’s head. A blown kiss becomes a sweep of the arm and then a wave, all in the same practiced movement.

“It was wonderful to work with you, Supernova. Take care of yourself, okay?”

The screens on the walls all begin to turn on, displaying DJ from all sides as he shifts position to better accommodate his tensed shoulders.

“Goodbye.” He waves a hand dismissively. I can’t believe he still dares to talk to me like that.

“Bye.” It’s a strangled syllable, and I keep flying away until I’m outside and hit with a drop in temperature, the chill pleasant against the material of my jacket. Frank pulls the doors of Club Planetarium shut behind us. There’s already a line of people forming for tonight. Even with some of them beginning to recognise me, I land back on my feet and manage to sigh, wiping imaginary sweat from my forehead. That single had better trend after what I’ve gone through.

#NSR #NSR OC #DJ Subatomic Supernova #Q-pid #my writing #No Straight Roads #the end is a bit rushed cuz I was hurrying #I spent a week on this pls read it

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