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fatehbaz · 1 year ago

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It's a big mess of hubris; the manipulative use of scientific language to legitimate/validate the status quo; Victorian/Gilded Age notions of resource extraction; the "rightness" of "land improvement"; and the inevitability of empire.

This was published in the United States one year before the massacre at Wounded Knee.

This was the final year-ish of the so-called "Indian Wars" when the US was "completing" its colonization of western North America; at the beginning of the Gilded Age and the zenith of power for industrial/corporate monopolies; when Britain, France, and the US were pursuing ambitious mega-projects across the planet like giant canals and dams; just as the US was about to begin its imperial occupations in Central America and Pacific islands; during the height of the "Scramble for Africa" when European powers were carving up that continent; with the British Empire at the ultimate peak of its power, after the Crown had taken direct control of India; in the years leading up to mass labor organizing and the industrialization of war precipitating the mass death of the two world wars.

This was also the time when new academic disciplines were formally professionalized (geology; anthropology; archaeology; ecology).

Classic example of Victorian-era (and emerging modernist and twentieth-century) imperial hubris which implies justification for its social hierarchies built on resource extraction and dispossession by invoking both emerging technical engineering prowess (trains, telegraphs, electricity) and the in-vogue scientific theories widely popularized at the time (Lyell's work, dinosaurs, and the geology discipline granting new understanding of the grand scale of deep time; Darwin's work and ideas of biological evolution; birth of anthropology as an academic discipline promoting the idea of "natural" linear progression from "savagery" to imperial civilization; the technical "efficiency" of monoculture/plantations; emerging systems ecology and new ideas of biogeographical regions).

While also simultaneously doing the work to, by implication, absolve them of ethical complicity/responsibility for the cruelty of their institutions by naturalizing those institutions (excusing the violence of wealth disparities, poverty, crowded factory laboring conditions, mass imprisonment, copper mines, South Asian famine, the industrialization of war eventually manifesting in the Great War, etc.) by claiming that "commerce is a science"; "pursuit of profit is Natural"; "empire is inevitable".

This tendency to invoke science as justification for imperial hegemony, whether in Britain in the 1880s or the United States in the 1920s and such, might be a continuation of earlier European ventures from the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries which included the use of cartography, surveying/geography, Linnaean taxonomy, botany, and natural history to map colonies/botanical resources and build/justify plantations and commercial empires in the Portuguese slave ports, Dutch East Indies, or the Spanish Americas.

Some of the issues at play:

-- Commerce is "A Science". Commerce is shown to be both an ecological system (by illustrating it as if it were a landscape, which is kinda technically true) and a physiological system (by equating infrastructure/extraction networks with veins) suggesting wealth accumulation is Natural.

-- If commerce/capitalism are Natural, then evolutionary theory and linear histories suggest it is also Inevitable (it was not mass violence of a privileged few humans who spent centuries beating the Earth into submission to impose the Victorian/Gilded Age state of things, it was in fact simply a natural evolutionary progression). And if wealth accumulation is Natural, then it is only Right to pursue "land improvement".

-- US/European hubris. They can claim to perceive the planet in its apparent totality (as a globe, within the bounds of extraterrestrial space as if it were a laboratory or plantation). The planet and all its lifeforms are an extension of their body, implying a justified dominion.

-- However, their anxiety and suspicions about the stability of empire are belied by their fear of collapse and the simultaneous US/European obsession at the time with ancient civilizations, the "fall of Rome", classical ruins, etc. At this time, the professionalization of the field of archaeology had helped popularize images and stories of Sumer, Egypt, the Bronze Age, the Aegean, Rome, etc. And there was what Ann Stoler has called an "imperialist nostalgia" and a fascination with ancient ruins, as if Britain/US were heirs to the legacy of Athens and Rome. You can see elements of this in the turn of the century popularity of Theosophy/spiritualism, or the 1920s revival of "classical" fashions. This historicism also popularized a sort of "linear narrative" of history/empires, reinforced by simultaneous professionalization of anthropology, which insinuated that humans advance from a "primitive" state towards modernity's empires.

-- Meanwhile, from the first decades of the nineteenth century when Megalosaurus and Iguanodon helped to popularize fascination with dinosaurs, Georgian and later Victorian Britain became familiar with deep time and extinction, which probably contributed to British anxiety about extinction, imperial collapse, lastness, and death.

-- Simultaneously, the massive expansion of printed periodicals allowed for sensationalist narrativizing of science.

-- The masking of the cruelty in a euphemism like "land improvement". Like sentencing someone to a de facto slow death and deprivation in a prison but calling it a "sanatorium" or "reformatory". Or calling the mass amounts of poor, disabled, women, etc. underclasses of London "unfortunates". Whether it's Victorian Britain or early twentieth century United States: "Our empire is doing this for the betterment and advancement of all mankind."

-- If an ecosystem is conceived as a machine, "land improvement" actually means monoculture, high-density production, resource extraction, concentration.

-- The image depicts the body is itself is also a mere machine (dehumanization, etc.). And if human bodies are shown to be also systems, networks, machines like an ecosystem, then human bodies can also be concentrated for efficiency and productivity (literal concentration camps, prisons, factories, company towns, slums, dosshouses, etc.). This is the thinking that reduces humans and other creatures to objects, resources, to be concentrated and converted into wealth.

And so after the rise of railroads and coal-power and industrial factories in the earlier nineteenth century, the fin de siecle and Edwardian era then saw the expansion of domestic electricity, easier photography, telephones, radio, and automobiles. But you also witness the spread of mass imprisonment, warplanes, and machine guns, etc. And in the midst of this, the Victorian/Gilded Age also saw the rise of magazines, newspapers, mass media, pop-sci stuff, etc. So this wider array of published material, including visual stuff like maps and infographics could "win over" popular perception. This is nearly a century after the Haitian Revolution, so more and more people would have been able to witness and call out the contradictions and hypocrisies of these "civilized" nations, so scientific validation was important to empire's public image. (Think: 100 years prior, everyone witnessed widespread revolutions and slave rebellions, but now the European empires are still using indentured labor, expanding prisons, and growing even more powerful in Africa, etc. An outrage.)

Illustrations like this ...

It's people with power (or people with a vested interest in these institutions, people who aspire to climbing the social ladder, people who defend the status quo) looking around at the general state of things, observing all of the cruelty and precarity, and then using scientific discourses to concede and say "this was inevitable, this was natural" and not only that, but also "and this is good".

Related reading:

Peoples on Parade: Exhibitions, Empire, and Anthropology in Nineteenth-Century Britain (Sadiah Qureshi, 2011); The Earth on Show: Fossils and the Poetics of Popular Science, 1802-1856 (Ralph O’Connor); "Science in the Nursery: the popularisation of science in Britain and France, 1761-1901" (Laurence Talairach-Vielmas, 2011); Citizens and Rulers of the World: The American Child and the Cartographic Pedagogies of Empire (Mashid Mayar); "Viewing Plantations at the Intersection of Political Ecologies and Multiple Space-Times" (Irene Peano, Marta Macedo, and Collette Le Petitcrops); “Paradise Discourse, Imperialism, and Globalization: Exploiting Eden" (Sharae Deckard); "Forgotten Paths of Empire: Ecology, Disease, and Commerce in the Making of Liberia's Plantation Economy" (Gregg Mitman, 2017); Imperial Debris: On Ruins and Ruination (Ann Laura Stoler, 2013)

Fairy Tales, Natural History and Victorian Culture (Laurence Talairach-Vielmas, 2014); Mining the Borderlands: Industry, Capital, and the Emergence of Engineers in the Southwest Territories, 1855-1910 (Sarah E.M. Grossman, 2018); Pasteur’s Empire: Bacteriology and Politics in France, Its Colonies, and the World (Aro Velmet, 2022); "Shaping the beast: the nineteenth-century poetics of palaeontology" (Talairach-Vielmas, 2013); In the Museum of Man: Race, Anthropology, and Empire in France, 1850-1960 (Alice Conklin, 2013); Inscriptions of Nature: Geology and the Naturalization of Antiquity (Pratik Chakrabarti, 2020)

#abolition #ecology #landscape #colonial #imperial #haunted #modernity #temporal #indigenous #multispecies #temporality #tidalectics #my writing i guess idk #intimacies of four continents

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arscaelestis · 9 months ago

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Dystopian Moon: Revelation of a Dream

Upon the farmhouse stoop we stood, beneath the azure gaze, Where Luna's sphere in daylight hung, a celestial maze. With continents and briny deeps, so stark against the blue, A sphere estranged from astral norms, presented in false hue.

"They've aestheticized the moon," he spoke, a statement darkly cast, A tapestry of power's weave, dystopian and vast. A projection in the heavens, where truth once freely roamed, Now an orb of grand deception, in silent sky it domed.

I turned away, a heart awash with anxious, pounding tides, Into the shelter of my abode, where uncertainty abides. "Why dost thou flee?" the shadow asked, a specter in my wake, Yet no solace found in walls that breathe, no refuge there to take.

The world outside, a stage of veils, where puppeteers convene, To drape the stars and script the clouds, to mask what must be seen. And we, but actors in the ruse, with sightless eyes we dance, To tunes composed by hidden hands, in ignorance's trance.

What doctrines sown among the rows of intellect's vast field, Are but the chaff of phantom minds, in gilded falsehoods sealed. The ruling kin, with threads of myth, weave cloaks of night so sheer, To swaddle firm the minds of men, in cradles wrought of fear.

And so we question bedrock truths, foundations turn to mist, As phantoms rule the firmament, by alchemists' own twist. Reality, a whispered dream, that slips through grasping thoughts, While overlords in silence scheme, in cryptic shadows wrought.

The moon, a sentinel of night, now cast in doubting role, Reflects the turmoil of our souls, the chaos of our whole. For what are we, if not but pawns in grand celestial play, Where truth is pawned for pageantry, and night consumes the day?

Our spirits, restless, seek the dawn, where certainty might dwell, Yet find ourselves on checkered grounds, betwixt our heaven and hell. The wool, so thick upon our eyes, obscures the paths we tread, With every step, the ground gives way to more doubt's web instead.

So in the dream, the moon revolved, a symbol of our plight, A globe of artifice so vast, it shunned the natural light. Yet in its counterfeit rotation, a truth begins to cleave, That even in constructed lies, the heart will still believe.

Arouse, arise, O slumbering minds, and cast the veils aside, For in the light of piercing day, no shadows can abide. The dream, though heart to heart may race, a truth within it vies, To question all, to seek, unveil, the truth behind the lies.

---------- Backstory:

I had a dream last night, wherein I found myself on the porch of a quaint house nestled in the heart of the countryside, with verdant fields stretching into the horizon. Beside me stood a figure whose identity remained shrouded in mystery. Together, we gazed upwards, our eyes drawn to the moon that hung in the broad daylight sky. This was no ordinary moon though, it boasted distinct continents and vast oceans, mimicking the Earth's surface, complete with delineated national borders akin to those on a terrestrial globe. Unnaturally, it rotated, offering a panoramic view of its transformed facade.

I remarked to my companion, perplexed, "That's impossible. We only ever see the same side of the moon." His reply was cryptic yet revealing, "They've aestheticized the moon." The implication was clear, what we beheld was nothing more than an elaborate facade, a mere projection in the celestial dome.

A wave of unease washed over me, compelling me to retreat into the sanctuary of my home. The man inquired about my sudden disquiet, but before I could respond, the dream dissolved, and I awoke. My heart raced, the anxiety from the dream lingering like a shadow, refusing to depart even as I returned to the waking world.

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denimbex1986 · 10 months ago

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'On a recent winter day in New York when the sun was shining, Andrew Scott rushed into a coffee shop between recording sessions for an upcoming series.

"I'm scheduled tighter than a teenage pop star," he said, beaming.

The interview had been postponed once, and the location was switched at the last minute to save Scott some time in traffic. But he sat down fully engaged and eager to start talking. Immediately, though, a passerby tapped on the storefront glass and asked for a photo. Scott, without a grumble, sprinted out to oblige, even though the gesture seemed more like a command ("You're under arrest," joked Scott) than a polite request.

Scott, the 47-year-old Irish actor, is in demand like never before. That's partly due to accrued good will. A regular presence on stage in the West End, Scott is known to many as the "Hot Priest" of "Fleabag" or the cunning Moriarty of "Sherlock." Soon, he'll play Tom Ripley in the Netflix series "Ripley," adapted from the Patricia Highsmith novel.

But the real reason Scott's time is short right now is Andrew Haigh's new film, "All of Us Strangers." In it, Scott plays a screenwriter working on a script about his childhood. The film is gently poised in a metaphysical realm; when Adam (Scott) returns to his childhood home, he finds his parents (Claire Foy, Jamie Bell) as they were before they died many years earlier.

At the same time, the movie, loosely adapted from Taichi Yamada's 1987 book "Strangers," balances a budding romance with a neighbor ( Paul Mescal ), a relationship that unfolds with profound reverberations of family, intimacy and queer life. In a dreamy, longing ghost story, Scott is its aching, shimmering soul.

"The challenge of it was to try to go to that place but not gild the lily too much," Scott says. "As an actor, I have to be in touch with that playful side of myself and that part of you that's childish. I was actually quite struck by how vulnerable I looked in the film."

Scott's acutely tender performance has made him a contender for the Academy Awards. He was named best actor by the National Society of Film Critics. At the Golden Globes on Sunday (Scott wore a white tux and t-shirt), he was nominated for best actor in a drama.

Scott has long admired actors like Anthony Hopkins, Judi Dench and Meryl Streep – performers with a sense of humor who, he says, "are able to understand what you feel and what you present." Scott, too, is often funny on screen (see Lena Dunham's medieval romp "Catherine Called Birdy" ). And even in quiet moments, he seems to be buzzing inside at some discreet frequency. Something is always going on under the surface.

He's been acting since he was young; drama classes were initially a way to get over shyness. Scott's first film role came at age 17. He has often spoken about seeking to maintain a childlike perspective in acting. In that way, "All of Us Strangers" is particularly fitting. On Adam's trips home, he sort of morphs back into the child he was. In one scene, he wears his old pajamas and crawls into bed with his parents.

"So many of the things that are required of you as an actor are a sense of humor and some ability to be able to put yourself in a situation. Because it's all down to imagination," says Scott. "For me, that's the thing you need to keep. That's the thing – because I started out when I was young – I don't want to move too far away from. Like when kids go, 'OK, you be this and I'll be this.' That ability doesn't leave us. What does leave us is a lack of self-consciousness. Our job is to hold on to that."

Haigh, the British filmmaker of "45 Years" and "Weekend," began thinking of Scott for the role early on. They met and talked through the script for a few hours.

"He's a similar generation to me. He's a tiny bit younger than me, but he's from the same generation," says Haigh. "He understands that experience."

Scott came out publicly in 2013, but his natural inclination is to be private. "I feel like I've given so much of myself in the film, you think you don't want to give it all away," he says. He describes "All of Us Strangers" – which Haigh shot partly in his childhood home – as personal, but not autobiographical in its depiction of the alienation that can linger after coming out.

"Mercifully, I feel very comfortable for the most part. But it stays with you that pain, and it actually makes you more compassionate, I think. Because we shot in Andrew's childhood home, that sort of threw down the gauntlet in relation to how much of his own personality he was giving," says Scott. "I wanted it to be sort of unadorned, unarmored and raw. That's why I think there's such tenderness in the film."

Scott has sometimes recoiled from how sexuality is talked about the media and in Hollywood. He recently said the phrase "openly gay" should be done away with. As of late December, Scott hadn't yet watched "All of Us Strangers" with his parents, though he planned to.

"The best way to express it is to say I'll be very sensitive to how they watch it and how they feel about it, and how it makes me feel them watching it," Scott says.

The tenderness in the film is also owed in part to Scott's chemistry with Mescal. On-screen chemistry is an amorphous quality that the film industry has long tried to turn into a science with camera tests and marketing that flirts with real-life romance.

But for Scott, it's something different. He and Phoebe Waller-Bridge had chemistry, overwhelmingly, in "Fleabag," but that didn't have anything to do with sexual attraction. Pinpointing that quality is something Scott pondered during Simon Stephens and Sam Yates' recent staging of Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya" at the National Theater. Scott played all eight roles, meaning he essentially had to have chemistry with himself.

"Chemistry isn't just about sexual chemistry. It's something to do with listening, and I think it's something to do with playfulness," Scott says. "Your ability to listen to someone and take note of what someone is doing is chemistry. You have to wait and see what the other actor is doing."

A few moments later, Scott will have to rush out just as quickly as he arrived. But before that, he leaned back, naturally lit by the winter sun, and pondered whether "All of Us Strangers," in the nakedness of his performance, had taken him somewhere he hadn't before been as an actor.

"Yeah, I think so," said Scott. "Or else to return to something that perhaps I've been before."'

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mochie85 · 3 years ago

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Local God

Chapter 24 of my Mayari Series.

Mayari Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: The rest of the team arrived in New Asgard for the holiday season. A/N: I wrote this around Christmas. So please bear with me for the next two chapters. This was a lot of fun to write, but really hard to execute - with the text message and the songs. I highly encourage you guys to listen to the songs. This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist can be found here on Spotify. Word Count: Over 43.7k Warnings: Smut, fingering, rough sex, slight daddy/breeding kink, and fluff. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

After dinner, Loki found himself in his room. The house they occupied was the largest in the city but by no means the gilded castle that was once Valaskjalf. He looked around, taking note of the sparse interior and basic furniture. He hadn’t spent much time here. Most of his personal belongings were in the tower. Lying down on his bed, he sent a projection out to you halfway across the globe.

He found you, sitting in your shared room’s sitting area. Your back was to him, your broken leg propped up on the coffee table, as you scrolled through your phone. Music was playing in the background, and you were humming lightly to the tune. He looked around, noticing the life he built for himself here. His beloved books. The daggers hung on the wall. The many tokens he collected from traveling with the team. His stare stopped at you and wondered if you would continue to be a part of that life if he moved to New Asgard.

“Love, are you just gonna stand there?” You asked.

“When one is greeted by perfection, one cannot help but stare in awe.” He remarked. You turned around to face him, as much as your leg would allow, blush on your cheeks.

“You’re such a flirt.” You said getting up from your seat and crossing over to him. “But you’re my flirt.”

“Darling don’t get up because of me. Stay.” Loki wanted to open his arms to you. Embrace you tightly and have your warmth spread over him. All he could do is stare at you. His visage surely will disappear if you were to touch each other. “I have some bad news, I’m afraid. We must stay another week or so. The troubles with the fanatics have only been dampened, not fully extinguished. Not to mention the problems internally with our own people. It’s a mess.” Loki sat down on the bed his head in his hands.

You wanted to comfort him. Maybe run your fingers through his hair. But you didn’t want his image to go away. “I wish I could touch you,” you whispered to him. “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time. Is there anything I can do to help?” He held out his hands to you, and you held your hand on top of his, not letting them touch. Afraid of getting any closer.

“I wish you were here with me,” Loki said looking up at you. “The moon is already out in the night sky here. The crescent shape reminds me of your smile. I miss you tremendously.” You smiled at him and sat next to him as close as possible.

“I miss you too, sinta — my love.” Loki warmed at your term of endearment. “How much longer will you be gone? Will you spend your Christmas there?”

“I’m afraid we might. Do you celebrate Yuletide?”

“Most of the people we watch over have long forgotten us, and their beliefs lie in different places. But I always found it fascinating when this time of year rolls around. The lights, the decorations. Everyone is just generally nicer towards one another. When people have something common to celebrate, they usually forget their troubles.” Loki looked up at you, the sharp turn of his head making it seem like you said something profound.

“You are the most intelligent, generous, and beautiful being I know. In all the nine realms!” Loki got up excitedly. He put both hands on your face and went to kiss you, but suddenly disappeared at your touch.

Disappointment rolled over you in thick waves, threatening your eyes to shed a tear. You got up and walked to the phone that you had left on the couch. You decided to call Tony, a plan forming in your head.

Back in his room, Loki lay there thinking about what you had just said. It gave him an idea that he hoped would work. He should tell Thor right away, but he couldn’t get his body to move. He almost had you in his hands. Frustration outweighed his excited energy. He let out a great sigh and sat up on his bed.

In order for his plan to work, he would need a planner and a lot of resources. Someone who knew how to organize large events. Luckily, Tony was just in the next room.

“A party?” Thor questioned. Loki had gone to him and Val first. He didn’t want to forget the idea. He wanted to tell Thor and Val right away. That same night.

“Yes! A Yuletide festival. Imagine it! We can open the gates for Yuletide. It will boost the morale of our people. Everyone loved when Odin gave away his blessings during these events. Then we can have an end-of-the-year party, just like in Asgard. It would satiate Midgard’s curiosity. Our people will get to see that they’re not so different from the Midgardians…possibly. Everyone will be happy.”

Val looked at Thor. She liked the idea, a smile growing on her face. “Then some of the environmentalists will see that we have done right by the natural inhabitants of this place as well. The nay-sayers will probably not stop, but maybe in their time here, we can co-exist peacefully. Even if it’s just for the season.”

“But where will we get the resources to pull off such a festival? Yuletide is twelve days long!” Thor questioned.

“What?! You mean to tell me that you can’t use your connections as Avengers to pull off a party to rival Sakaar?” Val asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a grand fête and you both keep me here looking after Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum over there.” She said pointing to Korg and Meek.

“How do you know about Tweedle-dee and -dum?” Loki asked.

“I read Through the Looking Glass. While you guys were out saving the world.” Val said.

“All right. Let’s talk to Tony. Maybe he will know how to raise funds, or at the least help plan the event.” Thor gave in, interrupting. “This was a great idea brother. I don’t mean to sound condescending, but I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you. Though I must admit, I had the idea while I was speaking with Mayari. So credit should go to her.”

“You should invite her to come. I’m sure she would love to spend Yuletide here, with you. OOH! And maybe she can make those cakes I love so much.” Thor proposed.

“No! if she decides to come, she will come as a guest. I will not have her working and stressed out while she is still trying to recuperate.” Loki said vehemently.

“Her cooking is amazing, Val. You must have her bake you something.” Thor said to her, ignoring Loki’s demand.

“I’m sure I can convince her in some way,” Val said smirking at Loki.

“Obnoxious. The both of you.” Loki said standing up. Thor and Val followed him on their way to Tony’s room. Just then, a ‘ding’ was heard on Loki’s phone. It was a message from you.

Loki played the song. Listening to the words, his allspeak, translating some of the lyrics for him. His smile grew wide, and a blush formed in his cheeks.

“Can you please not do that while I’m in your presence? My allspeak can translate that too, you know.” Thor said aloud. Loki glared at Thor for ruining his moment. He continued the song, only to type out a message back to you.

“You two are still exasperating even miles apart,” Thor said under his breath. Loki rolled his eyes and sent you a song himself.

Loki put his phone away when they reached Tony’s room. No matter how far away you were, you always managed to put a smile on his face.

The next day, Thor, Loki, and Tony talked in more detail about their plans. Tony was enthusiastic about the whole idea. Nothing could excite him more than a large party. He made a few calls, and between him and Pepper, managed to make an auction charity event. People would buy tickets just to attend this one night. Citizens were asked to craft something for the auction. The proceeds would go to help fund repairs, new buildings, rations, and possibly train more Valkyrie and Einherjar.

The auction party was for purchased tickets, but they had planned festivities all over the city for everyone to partake in for twelve days of Yule, inviting all the people outside in the encampments.

Tony graciously donated some of his own money to fund caterers, decorators, and additional security for the event. The only thing he asked was that he would have a chance to spend his holiday here, in New Asgard.

“Are you sure, my friend? You are always welcome here, and you are more than welcome to stay. I don’t feel like it equates to what you have provided for us though.” Thor said humbly.

“Nonsense. This is a great cause. I get to help form a new nation. Plus, I get away from the hustle and bustle of New York.” Tony said.

“Oh. So it’s not the fact that some of the fanatics outside think you might be the reincarnation of the god Regin. The god of metalwork and iron.” Loki teased.

“Listen. I am not about to tell these people what to think or not to think. But if they want to think that; I’m certainly not going to stop them.” Tony said feigning innocence. “Plus, you know the other part of the deal.” He said to Thor. Thor nodded his head, looking suspiciously happy and uneasy.

“What part?” Loki asked eyeing Thor.

“He wants a plaque made out to him to commemorate his involvement,” Thor said slightly peeved. Loki eyed him suspiciously, knowing that wasn’t the whole story.

“No, we agreed on a full-body statue,” Tony corrected.

“A bust,” Thor amended.

“Fine, a bust.”

“We’ll hide it somewhere in the back gardens,” Thor whispered to Loki. Loki tried to hide his laugh. Just then, Val and Sam ran towards the group.

“Boys, there’s a quinjet here,” Val said surprised and excited.

“Are we expecting anyone?” Sam asked.

“That would be the other part of the deal,” Tony said. All five of them made their way out of the large house and out towards Heimdall’s gate. The only flat landing surface safe enough for an aircraft was wedged in between the steps of the gate and the start of the encampments.

The roar of the engine could be heard miles around. The believers and critics alike looked up as they watched the black quinjet touch down onto the narrow field. The blowback caused most of the nearby tents to give and sway.

As the engine turns off and the dust begins to settle, people started coming out from the safety of their tents. They recognize the aircraft. Anyone who has been following the news would. The five approached the tail just in time for the back hanger to open.

Slowly, the rest of the team walked out of the jet, small duffels in hand. First were Natasha, Bucky, and Steve. Sam went to greet them with smiles and hugs. Next came Bruce, Pepper, Vision, and Wanda. Everyone greeted each other. Introductions were made and thanks were given to Thor and Loki for letting them stay there for the holiday season.

Loki grew excited. If everyone were here, that means you would be too. He looked up at the hanger and he finally saw you. Walking by yourself. No cast. No crutches. Your black chain armor on, matching your dark eyes and dark hair. Loki ran up to you and picked you up, twirling you around. You laughed in his arms, relishing the feel of his strong muscles finally around you again. You felt safe. You felt at home.

“Always, so impatient, my love.” You said in his ear. He rested his forehead on yours. Then hurriedly found your lips with his. His kisses always felt like the first time. He had this way of making you open yourself up to him. His sharp features tempt you, his soft nature coaxing you. Then his mischievous side always exciting you.

“Get a room you two,” Darcy said as she walked past. She and Jane were next to walk out. As you shot Darcy a smile, Jane stopped in front of Thor giving him a hug and a kiss.

“Did you plan this?” Loki asked you.

“It was a collective effort. I wanted to spend Christmas with you. So I called Tony and he told me of your idea, which is a great idea by the way, and we planned for the team to be here as soon as we hung up. I hope that’s ok. We’re not putting anyone out, are we? I think some of us would be willing to sleep in the quinjet.”

“Silly girl. When have I ever cared about anyone on the team other than you?” Loki said kissing you passionately. You laughed at his kisses.

“Loki. God of Lies. Come on then, show me where I’ll be sleeping.”

“You won’t be doing much of that, I’m afraid, now that you are fully healed.” He said to you in a low, rough voice.

“There’s my Loki! God of Mischief.” You beamed at him. Pulling him towards the rest of the group. Once down the gangplank, you had a chance to look out into the hillside. The encampments were spread so far. Different colored tents standing in no particular order, all lining up against the main road.

“You weren’t exaggerating about the situation, were you? I didn’t think you were. I’m just still shocked, is all.” Most of the people were watching now. Some even had their phones out recording the arrival of The Avengers at New Asgard. Flashbacks of the time from Tony’s party came to mind. Seeing people with their phones out, capturing your life for all the world to see.

“Love, can we go in now? Please.” You asked with your arms crossed. You turned away from their stares, trying to hide. Loki took in your closed behavior and small voice. He knew you were uncomfortable. He looked out to see the campers watching and taking photos of the spectacle before them. Loki wrapped his arm over your shoulder and led you through the gate.

Inside was no different. The citizens of New Asgard were staring with hushed tones said towards each other. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were talking about you. You looked down as you walked, not wanting to see anymore. You kept your arms crossed in front of you, shielding yourself.

“My goddess, you must forgive me.” Loki took your hand in his and gave it a kiss. You looked up at him confused. His blue eyes glittered with affection. “I have failed to tell you how beautiful you look today. How spirited you are now that you are not weighed down by your injury. I can’t wait for everyone to finally meet you, so they can see how brave, loyal, and absolutely gorgeous you are.” Loki kissed your hand again, turning it over, then kissed your wrist. He always knew what to say to get your mind out of the spiraling negative thoughts.

“Thank you, Loki.” You said as you squeezed his hand. The pair of you walked behind everyone else. Loki pointed out places of interest. Buildings that were being raised and roads that were being paved. The quaint town was walkable and took everyone no time to get to the edge of the bluff, where the grand house sits.

After reintroducing yourselves to each other intimately, you quietly got up to get dressed and make your way towards the kitchen. You didn’t know if the brothers had a royal cook or anything, but you knew that they were going to need help feeding so many guests unexpectedly. You grabbed Loki’s button-down off the floor and was halfway finished through the buttons when a pair of strong hands grabbed your waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Loki said slightly sleepy. You could feel his naked form slide in behind you. His hard erection resting on your back.

“I’m going to help get dinner ready, your highness. What does it look like?” you answered cheekily. He traced your neck with his nose, inhaling deeply and languidly leaving kisses. His hands traveled over his shirt to the top button and quickly undid your work.

“It looks like you’re leaving me. But I don’t recall ever giving you a reprieve.” He said pulling you back on top of the bed. He wrapped his arms around you, caging you in, your back to his chest.

“Excuse you. I do not need your permission.” You smirked at his game. He began nuzzling against your throat, his breathing making you pause and arousing you.

“Prince’s orders. You are to stay in bed, and relax.” His hands traveled across your abdomen, savoring your soft skin.

“And if I don’t want to?” You said, turning your head to meet his lips.

“I can always entice you.” Loki now moved his hand down to your sensitive clit. You arched your back at his touch, having already spent the last hour getting used and pleasured. Then, both of his hands rubbed your thighs as he spread them apart, using his feet to keep them locked and separated. When you didn’t move to close your legs, his left hand now free, moved up to massage your breast, playing with your taut nipple. He kissed you as he rubbed your sensitive clit with his other hand. He tapped it repeatedly, making you jolt and arch your back. With each strike, his hand got heavier and heavier, until he slapped your aching pussy causing you to moan out loud. You winced at the sharp pleasure he was sending you. He circled his fingers faster and quicker, rubbing your clit, making you gush.

“That should teach you to never leave your prince alone in bed,” he growled into your ear. “You’re so wet for me, kitten.”

“Only for you, Loki. Always for you.” You whispered, enjoying him teasing your clit. Your hands reached behind you, finding his hair. You ran your fingers through his soft locks and pulled on them, urging him to continue.

“Mhmm, ‘for me’ she says,” Loki said with dark derision.

When he was satisfied that you were dripping for him, he skillfully shoved you on the bed. Putting himself on top of you, trapping you in between him and his sheets. You missed his touch on your clit, making you moan with desire.

“So greedy for my touch, pet.” He kissed your pouted lips and ran his fingers through your hair. You let out a heady moan relishing in the sensation he would always give you. His tongue slid along yours, then he licked your upper lip. Sucking it then pulling back, leaving you wondering what he would do next.

His game of cat and mouse drove you crazy. It left you wanting more of him. To keep his tongue on you at all times. Ooh, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

As if to confirm your thoughts, he smirked into your kiss, feeling victorious. He knows he has you now. “Tell me.” He rumbled in your ear. “Tell me how much you want my cock…buried in your tight little cunt.”

“…Loki…” you said breathlessly and somewhat crying. He moved his lips down to your throat, taking in the wonderful scent of your skin. A mix of jasmine and his sex heightened his arousal. He held both your wrists above your head with his left hand. With his right, he caressed his way down your peak nipple and gave it a firm tug, eliciting another moan of his name from your mouth.

“…please, Loki…”

His long fingers traveled further down, in between you two, and found your wet heat. He found the tip of your clit and circled it again with his finger before pulling back. He was going to tease you again. The thought makes you clench down, sending a delicious tingle throughout your body.

“…pleaseLokiplease…” you begged. He drove his fingers inside you, then moved them in circles. He rimmed you faster and faster. The noises that were leaving your mouth were indiscernible. Just crying, begging for him to release you.

With a sly grin, he rims you deeper and harder. You tighten around his fingers anxiously waiting for your orgasm to catch you. “I need to hear you say it, pet. Beg for it. Pray for it.”

“Loki, pl…please I need your cock. I want you inside me.” When you tilt your head back and scream, he removes his fingers and slams his hard cock inside your tight cunt. The sudden size difference makes you clench stronger around him. You’re whimpering and panting, arching your back, bucking your hips to get his whole length inside you.

“OH MY GOD!”

“Yes…I know kitten, I know.” He says grunting in your ear. He started pounding into you. Harder and harder with each thrust. You cried out each time he drove into you, touching that perfect spot that makes you delirious. You clenched around him and his voice trembles in your ear. Your orgasm was so intense it left you with one long scream and nothing else.

“You’re so tight, kitten. Norns you feel so — uggh — good. So good. S’good.” He released himself inside you. His brows furrowed and his lips were in that perfect shape of an orgasm. You wrap your legs around him, keeping him inside you.

“Breed me, daddy.” You whine in his ear.

“…unh…fuck…” He rides out his orgasm, still thrusting into you. Gods, the sensation this man gives you. You can see a slight change in his color from his pale peach to a pale blue. The temperature in the room getting noticeably colder. After being spent, he couldn’t help but put his whole weight on you.

He lets go of your wrist to get off of you, but you wrap your arms around his neck. Trapping him closer.

“Don’t go. Not yet.” You whisper into his lips. He chuckles in response.

“See. Now it’s you begging me to stay. I have done my job.” You comb your fingers through his hair, pushing his cold dark lips towards yours. You feel them warm up and you know he’s changed back to his usual form. “Sleep, darling. You’re a guest here. Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You couldn’t help it. Maybe it was just the combination of jet lag. Or the hours of sex you just had before. Maybe it was the feel of his weight still on top of you, protecting you and comforting you. Or maybe it was the way he was speaking to you in a slow, calm, deep voice, but you shut your eyes and began to fall into slumber.

⬅️Chapter 23: The Ruler and The Killer | Chapter 25: If You Let Me➡️

Taglist: @user13cabs @alexs1200 @lokiprompts @huntress-artemiss

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emcads · 2 years ago

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✧ : My muse and art. (If they have an artistic side or not and why, favourite artist if they have one, e.t.c.)

SEND A SYMBOL AND I WILL WRITE A HEADCANON ABOUT... / accepting !

esme makes a habit of collecting fine paintings to furnish her cabin ( having various lovers among the aristocracy to steal from helps with this project considerably ). sculptures are more difficult, considering the limited space in her cabin, but she makes it a point to reserve for herself any fine two dimensional artwork or fancy, gilded frames to put them in. lots of the cabin’s decor remains the same from when her grandfather resided there: the rugs, curtains, books, and especially nautical instruments such as globes have special connection to Don Rafael. but the paintings are different, and it’s here that Esmeralda puts in a uniquely feminine touch, rather than merely luxury and sumptuousness, as she has a habit of displaying work with a particular emphasis on women and beauty ( particularly nude or semi-nude forms ) or women at play in fête galantes. collecting in terms of the prestige of the work or the painter is a little less important to her, other than taking pride in stealing something particularly valuable to furnish a pirate ship, as she would with anything for her cabin. the works are instead chosen according to her own taste, and “worth” is less important. after all, it’s not assumed that pirates will live long enough to sell off their collection of fine art. the pleasure is solely hers for the moment. that being said, of the non-figurative art she’s drawn to, memento mori still lifes are among her favorites.

#esme furnishing her cabin with naked women and skulls. girlboss #theyhope #✘; IN A WORLD WITHOUT GOLD，WE MIGHT HAVE BEEN HEROES ( headcanon )#✘; LOOSE，CATCH THE WIND ( meme response )#✘; LETTERS ( answered )

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jbhofstee · 3 years ago

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Hello! This is a writeblr for an aspiring author! I go by JB Hofstee and I prefer to write in supernatural and fantasy genres at this present time. I have two projects currently simmering on a back burner while I attend college. Their summaries and primary characters are going to be under readmore for anyone curious!

PSI Files - Multi Book Supernatural series

Clarity Fergus always knew she was different. And she wanted to use that to help people—both living and dead. After an incident in her hometown, she finds herself involved in the Bureau, an international organization which keeps the balance between the natural and the supernatural. Clarity joins the organization and works to solve cases around the globe of supernatural and natural beings disrupting the balance.

Main Characters

Clarity Fergus - A young American human woman with spiritual powers, sense auras, and the ability to speak with the dead. Having suffered high social anxiety, Clarity learns how to cope and grow into herself once she finds herself working for the Bureau.

Gershom Black - the enigmatic detective who is one of Clarity’s trainers. Often the serious and more balanced view, his severe outlook covers up a deeply caring personality and deeply buried guilt. His words oftentimes contradict his actions, almost as if he naturally tends to walk a line.

Dáithí Murty - a water type of Fae from Scotland called a tangie, Daithi is the magical and tech of the trio, a forced detective for the Bureau and Clarity’s other trainer. He acts more lighthearted and is a bit flirtatious, but beneath that lies a deep sea hiding away his true personality and intentions.

Supporting Characters

Todd Anderson - a dhampir detective for the Bureau and the former apprentice for Gershom and Dáithí, Todd is a quiet and reserved type, preferring to think before he speaks or acts. Very observant, he sometimes states his observations out loud, though, which can cause some discomfort. He has good intentions, but he tries to keep people at arm’s length due to fear of his nature.

Gwen Collins - a half-fae, half-human young woman who works as an archivist for the Bureau. Very friendly and bubbly, she often is seen sporting a new shade of pastel hair each week. Gwen is on the backend, getting information from the archives for detectives, frequently for Gershom’s team.

Robert Faeway - The stoic Deputy Director of the Bureau, Faeway was once human, until necromancy and science were used on him to bring him back, turning him effectively immortal and super-human. a turn of the 1900s century man, Faeway was far more scientific and less spiritual and this still translates into much of his mannerisms to this day.

Lady Emilie - a being who creates and protects portals, she’s often found at the entrances to the Bureau, typically in what’s designed as an antique shop. A very knowledgeable woman in her own right, she has no issue moving pieces how she pleases without telling anyone. Her goal is to help maintain the balance so the threads don’t converge and collapse, though, so there is little malevolence to expect.

Piotr Stolarz - a trickster poltergiest from Poland who can’t seem to cross over. Even as he took revenge against those who wiped out him and his family, he can’t seem to find the reason why, starting to extend his punishment to members of their families until he’s tracked down by the Bureau. He eventually becomes an ally and is considered an anomaly due to his inability to move on.

The Stonekeeper - A Fantasy Trilogy

A banished darkness threatens to return from the Wastes. Yet the kingdom is in shambles after the murder of the king, his wife, and their unborn child. The barrier keeping the dark prince in the Wastes is weakening and the only way to strengthen it is to find the royal family’s ancient elven stone. Which is in the possession of a young woman far from the capital, in a village of no consequence...

Main Characters

Lucasta Henda - Working on her mothers’ farm and training to be on the village guard, Lucasta owns a golden stone necklace she always wears. Level headed and strong willed, Lucasta is not the kind to take nonsense and does not tolerate injustice. Despite her desire to remain in her village to protect it, she knows she must leave it to keep it safe.

Val Guiscard Thankarat Amadeus - a disgraced mage, labelled a warlock, Val values his freedom above all else. The wealth of his family couldn’t tempt him to remain in a gilded cage, so he left. He reunited with his elder brother, though, to help him with a mission to guarantee the kingdom’s freedom. After the murder of his brother, Val must continue it on his own.

Mira Loch - Lucasta’s childhood friend, highly knowledgeable from her connections with her monk uncle who would send her books as presents, she also serves on the village’s guard as an archer and healer. Mira is not the type to shy away from sharing her knowledge and is not fond of being patronized. She refused to be left behind when Lucasta left the village.

Lian Wu - Her family having fled civil war in her homeland, Lian Wu was found to be slightly gifted with magic, not enough to be a mage, but enough to be trained to be a guard for a mage so they would not fall to the dark arts. Lian was paired with Val’s elder brother to be his guard and he escaped her watchful eye for his mission. Frustrated, Lian managed to track down Val, Lucasta, and Mira, learning the truth and joining them on their quest.

Pyrrus Aneirin Maddoc - a nobleman, Pyrrus is known to be a highly honorable man and his family to be fiercely loyal to the royal line. Pyrrus offers his allegiance to Lucasta and her group, offering to travel with them to assure their legitimacy in the capital. Trained as a warrior and a politician, his skills and reputation prove to be invaluable.

Sciéno - An ancient elf who was awakened by the dark prince’s invasion of the temple he and the other sentinels were sleeping in, only to be awakened to guard. He was the only one to awaken and had to destroy the room his comrades were in to keep their secrets safe. After running into Lucasta and her group in an ancient ruin, he reluctantly agrees to assist them, if only to keep the dark prince from gaining all the ancient stones to have the powers they possessed.

Prince Dubhan - Dubbed the dark prince, Dubhan is the son of the Emperor from centuries ago who ruled over the kingdom with an iron fist, bleeding the people dry for his dark arts. The Emperor was defeated by the ancestor of the royal line and he and his son banished to the Wastes. While in the Wastes, Dubhan learned how to consume the energy of other beings, especially mages, to strengthen his own power and killed his father in this manner to begin his return and take back what he believes is rightfully his.

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writing

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theslashmix · 3 years ago

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Valzer a Quattro Mani

There was a grand piano on the stage, quietly sitting in dignified and lonely majesty. It was easy to picture a string ensemble or a small orchestra next to it, maybe even a singer, filling the air with emotion and sound. Nix found himself walking towards it- it felt profoundly unjust that such a beautiful instrument should stay there, dusty and abandoned, as if it didn’t contain the potential for one of the few amazing things that humanity had managed to create.

The theatre was empty, dusty, and forlorn when they entered. The air inside was still and hushed, blanketing everything in a very oppressive manner: and yet, there was sort of an expecting quality to it, decided Nix as he looked around, considering. It was as if the theatre was holding its breath. Waiting for somethi ng to happen.

Somewhere in the bowels of the theatre, someone found the main switch, and the electric lights flickered to life, dimmed by globes of opaque glass. It was the same trick they used in the Opera of Paris, to mimic the mysterious and romantic light of candles that reflected so beautifully on the ladies’ jewels.

It was a beautiful place: only a well done Baroque could manage to load such an excessive amount of decorations in a single place and not be tacky. Curls of gilded stucco glinted in the dim light, and chubby putti angels carried horns of plenty and wreaths of flowers around every balcony. The chairs in the audience had been pushed to the sides and piled up unceremoniously: they must have been there for a while, because spiderwebs had already started to festoon them.

The silence was, surprisingly, not broken by the sound of dozens of combat boots stepping on the empty wooden floor of the audience. On the contrary, it seemed to suffocate the noise, as if the theatre itself was shushing them. Nix felt the sudden urge to tell everyone to shut up and take their place. He expected at any moment to hear the discordant, and yet harmonious, soaring sound of an orchestra tuning up. It was a familiar sound that he had heard many times. His mind went back to the many concerts he had seen in his life, especially as a child: a concert was always a moment of peace, a moment when Stanhope Nixon had to shut his goddamn trap and let Nix enjoy something beautiful. Oh sure, after it Nix always had to hear him bitch about how boring these concerts were. But to Nix, the sound of an orchestra tuning up would always be a soothing sound.

“Lew?”

Dick had quietly walked over to him as he fondly stroked the sleek curve of the piano. What a beautiful thing it was, made of briar root, all mottled in various shades of warm brown, with gilded legs and edges. It was a pity that the gilding was peeling off in spots, but it gave the instrument a homely feeling.

“Look at this beauty, Dick” he sighed, as he opened the lid to peer inside. The cords seemed intact, and miraculously rust free. He propped it open and moved to the keyboard, sitting down before reverently lifting the lid and revealing the neat row of ivory and ebony keys. They were not perfectly aligned anymore and some wiggled a little- this piano had been well loved and used, before the war had forced its master to abandon it. He pressed a couple of keys experimentally- the plink-plunk of notes was startling, actually shattering the silence that had weighted on them like a wet blanket.

“You can play the piano?” asked Dick, looking at Nix in mild awe. Nix snorted.

“As much as I hate it, I do come from high society. Of course I can play the piano, Dick. It was either that, or the violin. I wish I could have picked up the pipe organ: then I could have lived in a beautiful gothic mansion while ominously playing Bach’s fugue in D minor during dark and stormy nights and wearing a dark cloak. I would be the perfect Count Dracula. All dark, mysterious and very villainous.” He placed his right hand on the keyboard, playing the first few beats of the fugue. Not bad, although the tuning was slightly off. But that was to be expected. Who knew how long it had been abandoned there, exposed to the ravages of time and war, without the care of competent hands that knew its worth! Nix was honestly surprised that it hadn’t been chopped into firewood already. He was a bit rusty and hadn’t played in a long while, but his fingers were absolutely itching to run wild on the keyboard.

Suddenly, he was aware of a shift in the atmosphere. Everyone was looking towards him- the soldier’s instinct of checking every new source of new noise kicked in no matter what. But now, the tension in the air was different. Nix had played for audiences before, and no matter how small they were, the feeling when you captured someone’s attention was very distinct. That attention was very real and tangible, like a weight on your shoulders. For a moment he was certain, absolutely certain, cross on the heart and hope to die kind of certain, that the theatre itself was alive, and Nix had just had the misfortune of capturing its full, undivided attention. It was all too easy to imagine the thousands of putti turning their little carved eyes towards the stage. It was vast, looming, and a bit more than vaguely threatening as it waited to see what he would do with the beautiful instrument.

He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the sensation and looked up at Dick, who was now leaning on the side of the piano, idly running his fingers on the polished and lacquered wood.

“Well, I’m no Rubinstein, mind you, and I’m a bit rusty. But what would you say to some serenading?” he said with a cheeky grin, knowing full well that his lover would catch the meaning underneath the joking tone. Dick smiled that soft little smile of his that always seemed to radiate comfort and warmth from within him. It was so sweet it hurt, and Nix wanted nothing more than to make him smile like that forever. He promised himself that they would have a piano someday, and maybe he’d even teach Dick to play it. He could picture them in their home, sitting side by side on a stool, as he guided Dick’s long fingers across the keyboard: it was such a sweet, domestic image that he felt his heart ache with longing.

“I would love it.” Dick said, his smile widening: there was no hint of joking in his tone.

Nix turned his attention to the keyboard, and placed his hands on the ivory keys. What should I play? He wondered, as he tested them and his own fingers with a few scales. It was a bit difficult to concentrate, with that nagging sensation of being stared at by the theatre itself- he felt his neck prickle. He repressed a shiver and shook his head. He needed to focus on Dick, not on the eerie atmosphere of this place.

He needed something sweet- this was a serenade, after all. But maybe not something overly lovey-dovey. Für Elise… nah, that was boring and overdone, and too saccharine. His next option was Moonlight Sonata, but he discarded it: even if the general gist was right (moonbeams and sweet nighttime made for a perfect ambience for a secret serenade), the piece was just on the wrong side of too dark to be romantic. Debussy was an obvious choice if he wanted the moonlight theme- or he could just take a little step further and go for one of Chopin’s Nocturnes. The one he liked best was n.2, and let’s face it- it was just perfect. Chopin’s Nocturne, Op. 9 n.2 it would be, then.

He paused for a moment, focusing on the flow and ebb of the notes in his head, on Dick and all the things he wanted to say and couldn’t.

He started playing, and suddenly, it was as if the whole theatre had sighed deeply, and settled down, listening intently, no longer threatening, but still single-mindedly focused.

Dick was focusing on him, too, but at least his attention was comforting and flattering, not threatening or unsettlingly intense. He was almost languid, as he relaxed against the piano to enjoy his secret serenade to the fullest. He had his eyes closed and was swaying gently with the music, while his fingertips were pressed into the wood of the piano, intent on catching every single vibration.

Nix hoped that the vibrations could convey all the things he was feeling. The unexpected depth of his feelings for the redhead, and his gratitude to whatever higher being that Dick actually reciprocated. The fear of losing him and the nebulous fear of the future, of the “what now” when the war would be over and they would need to decide what to do with their relationship. He poured all of it and more into the music, uncaring that there were fifty other men in the room, listening. It wasn’t perfect- he missed a couple of notes here and there. But it didn’t matter.

When the last notes ended, there was a moment of stunned silence before everyone started clapping frantically, whistling and stomping. it was as if they had just witnessed the concert of the century, instead of just Nix mauling Chopin in an abandoned theatre in a bombed city in the ass crack of nowhere, Europe.

He looked up at Dick, blushing slightly. The redhead was smiling openly, his gaze soft. Maybe he hadn’t mauled it too much, then. Maybe he had managed to convey at least something.

“That was beautiful, Lew” Dick said quietly, before moving up to the stool. “What about a duet?” he proposed, sitting down. Nix had to scoot to make space for him. An expectant silence fell again in the theatre, with the boys shushing each other (Bull had to slap a hand on Luz’ mouth to forcibly subdue his cheering), but Nix ignored it in favour of exploring this new facet of Dick.

“You can play the piano?” he asked, surprised.

Dick snorted, in a mocking mimicry of Nix�� earlier reaction.

“Of course I can play, Nix,” he parroted. His long fingers splayed on the keyboard, in the wrongest position that Nix had ever seen- he probably didn’t have a formal education in music, Nix reasoned. His piano teacher, Miss Price, would have had a stroke. “Let’s see… this is one of my dad’s favourites” he said, playing a few notes.

“The Blue Danube?”

Dick nodded, smiling softly.

“May I have this waltz?” he asked, with a mischievous wink.

“Gladly, milord. You lead,” said Nix, feeling his own lips widening in an answering smile.

Dick began playing, and Nix let him go for a few beats before joining, taking his time to see what tempo Dick would set. Then he started to follow, starting an accompaniment melody with a little bit of variation thrown into it just for fun. Dick had picked up an andante pace, but it was a bit too fast for Nix’ taste: this waltz was to be savoured, not rushed.

“Slow- down- a bit” he murmured, staccating his words in time with the music. He gave Dick the correct tempo with his accompaniment.

“Just- like- that,” he said. “One-two-three, take your time with this waltz. Don’t rush it.”

Nix found himself grinning, as Dick followed his lead and their hands danced in synchrony on the keyboard: back and forth, back and forth, weaving a complex pattern, like a boat ploughing through the soft waves of the great Danube. This was a bit like dancing: they weren’t well practiced with it, and they kept bumping their elbows and hands, as if they were dancing for the first time together and kept stepping on each other’s toes.

They couldn’t dance in front of everyone- but they could do this. They could duet and make the music dance for them while they sat close on the stool, their bodies touching, and everyone else was none the wiser to the deeper meaning of it all. Dick nodded and swayed in time with the music, and he smiled whenever his gaze met Nix’.

Maybe he’d take Dick on a cruise on the Danube after the war, he decided. They would wait a bit, so maybe Europe would have time to rebuild. If the state of things on the western front was anything to go by, it would take years for the Old World to rise from its ashes.

Still, it was a beautiful dream to hang on to. He imagined himself lazily lounging with Dick on the deck of a narrowboat, while the ancient landscape of Europe passed by. It would be green and lush, hale again after the war. He could imagine Dick with a cup of ice cream and a tourist’s guide, pointing at the various landmarks.

Nix felt sorry, when the cascading notes of the final crescendo vanished in the air. He would have liked to dance on the keyboard a little longer. But they could do it again, he reasoned. Now they knew that they could dance like this, together.

He followed Dick off the stage as the redhead brushed off the thunderstorm of claps, stomps, “bravo!” and “encore!” with an embarrassed shrug, before sending the men back to their duties. He paused for a moment before exiting the theatre, peering back into the now dark hall: the silence had fallen once more. But now it didn’t feel as heavy as it had when they had first stepped in. The large, looming presence he had perceived was still there, but the threat was gone: their offering had been deemed worthy and accepted. With a shiver, he wondered what would have happened, if this hadn’t been the case.

He promised himself that he would come back and fill that silence some more. This place didn’t deserve to remain silent and empty.

Later that night, Nix was pleasantly surprised by the fact that Dick had snagged them a good billet: the room had a locking door and, ineffable luxury, a double bed. Tired as they were, they still spent an extremely pleasant half hour of slow, passionate lovemaking in the fresh sheets: Dick had felt the pressing need to show Nix just how much he had appreciated the serenade, and Nix sure hadn’t minded.

Now they laid down in a warm cocoon of blankets and limbs, with Dick pliant and boneless in Nix’ arms. It was rare that they could sleep together like this, and Nix considered it a privilege when Dick nestled himself in his arms, exhausted and sated, accepting for once to be held and protected. No one else would ever see Dick like this.

“Thanks for the dance” murmured the redhead, who was already drifting off.

“You’re very welcome” answered Nix, smiling and placing a tender kiss on his lover’s red curls. He chuckled, when he heard Dick snore lightly, and he shifted a bit, settling down. He drifted off to sleep, picturing the pair of them in a grand ballroom wearing their best dress greens and waltzing elegantly, spinning so fast that the world around them was a blur.

Someday, he thought, before sleep finally claimed him. Someday .

#winnix #richard winters #bob #lewis nixon #band of brothers

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47pictures · 3 years ago

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“All-Star”

Link to original r/nosleep post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/mv9j9a/for_my_blog_i_toured_a_movie_studio_to_find_the/

________________________________________________________________

I finally made it to Hollywood… at least, I suppose that’s what I’d say if I were trying to make it big. That wasn’t exactly the case, though. On the contrary, my old hometown friend was the one who I’d say ‘made it big,' and she was the only reason I managed to get there. No way in hell I could just stroll through these Hollywood gates without some sort of reputation associated with my name.

I’m currently pursuing a degree in journalism, and right now I’ve got a pretty successful status as a blogger, and hopefully podcaster in the near future. My topics typically cover things involving entertainment, specifically movies, television, some celebrity gossip here-and-there, the ins and outs of the film and occasionally music industry, nerd topics about comic books or comic book movies, and I could go on. Essentially, all the things you’d expect from an entertainment blogger.

I don’t have a secret or special tip for how I grew a mass following. It just sort of happened. I did it since I was in high school - sophomore year, to be exact, and it started mainly as a hobby. Most people are surprised to hear that I was such a good writer and articulate for my age when they look back on the articles I’d put up during that time, speaking on topics such as the ‘downfall of blockbuster films,’ and the ‘toxicity of media's body standards on the youth.’ Truthfully, I didn’t know all of what I was saying half the time. Writing was sort of just my natural gift that I honed to where I could essentially bullshit anything well enough to make a great story. However, being ethical always remained my moral code.

The topic I was covering now involved my own personal ‘investigation’ of a famous movie studio known as Gemini Films. They’ve put out several flicks now that have garnered what most would consider moderate success (they're no Warner Bros. or Paramount, that's for sure). They deal mostly in the thriller/horror genre, sort of like Blumhouse. I’m a bit more in the sci-fi, comedy realm when it comes to my tastes, but really, I’m a bit of a pussy when it comes to scary stuff.

So why am I 'investigating' them? Well, as it turns out, it's their amazing use of special effects. Yep, that’s it. Special effects, that thing we fell for as children we called ‘movie magic,' and growing up learned that some of it were all the crafty work of well-put CGI. Though that’s usually the case, this time, something about Gemini Films seemed different. They’ve always been praised for their ‘hyperrealistic’ visual effects and pulling off stunts that would otherwise seem impossible. I was watching one of their action/horror films titled Last Thorn, and in a particular scene, a character’s on-screen death is, well, very lightly put, gruesome. I’ve seen my share of on-screen gore and played plenty of Mortal Kombat growing up, but I gotta say, I found the scene hard to watch. To clarify, it involved a character literally exploding before the camera, and from the way it was shot and the lack of cuts and edits typically required to create the illusion of a scene, it seemed quite real. A little too real…

They’ve done other things aside from their special effects department that some people on internet discussion forums found a bit too impressive. Take the actors, for instance. In their dramatic scenes, especially the horror flicks, I’m almost always convinced that the actors are actually going to die on screen. I’m surprised all of them haven’t been given Oscars yet, ‘cause goddamn, you’d think the director was holding them at gunpoint. We all saw just how amazing the acting was in films like Hereditary and The Babadook were, but I gotta say, after watching these films, they make those two look like child’s play (no pun intended to the Chucky series). I was so impressed with the actors that I had to look them up and see what other work they’d done, but from what I did find, their resumes didn’t seem that much greater than the work they’d done for GF. It was almost as if that was the peak of their careers unless they decided to further their contracts to star in any more of their movies. Anything else they did pale in comparison that showcased their acting chops.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jamie Douglas.

It had somewhat of household name potential, I thought. She was the next rising star. She’d just won a Golden Globe for her leading role in a TV series I’m sure no one had high hopes for in the beginning, and her name was now attached to an Academy Award-winning film for Best Original Screenplay, all at the age of 22. Her acting was stellar, always had been even growing up back in high school when we did theater together. I was never for the acting side of things; I always preferred the technical realm and behind-the-scenes work. She, however, had the ‘it’ factor. I never once doubted that she’d be famous. It was destined for her.

The taxi driver dropped me off in front of a luxurious one-story home in the Beverly Hills neighborhood, surrounded by other similar houses with a property value larger than what I’d probably make in my lifetime if I was being honest. From the outside, her home reminded me of that gilded, golden age of Hollywood back in the 60s, with a slanted roof and art deco-styled exaggerated features. It was nice and simple. But that’s how Jamie was. Nice and simple.

I could see her peeking through the curtains of her window before she came running out the door to meet me in the front yard. That big beautiful smile and those joyous eyes came rushing at me with open arms.

“Christian!” she screamed my name with excitement, as she gave me a big, suffocating hug.

I hugged her back with my free arm, as my other one was still carrying my trolley bag and she had that one pinned in her grip.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, I made it to Hollywood, right?” I dryly humored.

Jamie giggled as she began to pull back from her hug and put both her hands on my shoulders.

“Yes we did,” she said with a big smile, flashing her perfectly straight, white teeth. “We sure did.”

She led me inside the house and gave me a tour. Compared to the outside, the inside was the complete opposite in regards to the decorative era. Whereas the exterior was ‘groovy’, the inside was a bit more with the times. Wide-open spaces, tan or beige-colored furniture and walls, a wide sliding door for the backyard where you can see the pool. Jamie recently moved into the house, so I figured there wouldn’t be a lot of things to fill it up with just yet.

“Someone said Bette Davis used to live in this house, which I knew was bullshit, otherwise the value on this home woulda been way outta my league,” Jamie commented.

I chuckled. “Oh, I think you’re well on your way, trust me,” I reassured.

I was going to be staying with her for a week while I did my journaling/blogging. We did tons of catching up. She gave me all the inside scoop of what goes on in Hollywood - or ‘Hollyweird’ as I liked to call it - and even some of her other famous neighbors you might recognize living double lives on the down-low. She said she’d been to a couple of big mansion parties as well, where you’ll see all sorts of celebs from different categories of entertainment. Actors, athletes, musicians, models, influencers, you name it. But Jamie insists that she doesn’t attend those very often, if hardly at all. She prefers to be a homebody when she’s not seeking work through her agent, and her extraversion mostly comes to play when it involves networking.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The rest of the night we stayed up watching TV and YouTube videos. One that fascinated both of us was a video explaining how scientists managed to find a way to make a perfectly cooked steak from a cow, but without actually harming or slaughtering it. Instead, they extracted a small sample of the cow’s cells and took it to a lab where the cells would essentially grow into muscle for it to be cooked later.

“I’d consider that over going vegan,” Jamie said.

But I grimaced at the thought. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem right,” I remarked.

"What, are you vegan?"

"No, not that. Just the thought of cloning animals, ya know?"

“I mean, it’s not like they’re killing the cow or anything. They said it’s perfectly unharmed.”

“I know, but still…”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning was day one for me. Jamie had the right connections to get me an on-set tour of the studio lots associated with Gemini Films. I was greeted and led by the third assistant director (or AD as they’re commonly referred to).

“Hi, I’m Tiffany, nice to meet you,” she said, with a rather forced smile and handshake.

She carried a clipboard in her other arm, as well as a hand-held radio clipped to the pocket of her jeans, and I saw that she also had an earpiece nestled in her right ear. I could tell she was about her business and probably didn’t have time to be overly nice or talk too much.

I got a sneak peek of their most current production under the production title *"*Cold Silence", which required me to sign an NDA beforehand, of course. That wasn't actually their final name for the movie, but it's a common thing for them to do when shooting a film when either they haven't decided on a name yet or to keep the nature of the project a secret. It sort of took me back to my theater tech days with all the set designs and props lying around, except these were much more detailed and intricate thanks to their higher budget than what my high school had at the time. Here, there was limitless potential. Tiffany also introduced me to the other ADs, PAs, boom operators, cameramen, make-up artists, and then last but certainly not least, the director.

“Jeffrey?” Tiffany called to the man sitting in the director’s chair. The man turned to face her and then me. “This is Christian Watkins. He’s the man we’re giving a behind-the-scenes scoop for his… blog?” She looked to me for confirmation, to which I nodded. “Yeah, for his blog.”

The man in the big chair stood up with a cool smile and classy charm and extended his hand for me to shake.

“Christian, nice to meet you,” the man spoke in a tenor pitch. “Jeffrey Bachmann,” he introduced himself.

I didn’t take too much time last night trying to read up on his bio, but from what I could tell at first glance I knew that he was about in his mid to late fifties, as his hair was greying and skin was starting to wrinkle, and I could see that he had a surprisingly calm and laid-back demeanor. Surprising to me, at least. I always thought directing was a high-paced, chaotic mess that never ceased to present a myriad of complications onset that’d make any man want to pull their hair out. But Jeffrey seemed calm, collected, and very personable.

“Hi, thank you for having me,” I replied. “Seriously, this is like a really cool opportunity for me and my blog.”

“Hey man, it’s my pleasure,” Jeffrey said. “I heard you got a big following behind your name. Props to you. I respect the work ethic, especially giving your readers what they really want to see, ya know?”

I shrugged modestly. “Well thank you, but this time was mostly in my own interest to seek out this idea for my current blog,” I said.

“Ah, an interest in GF, huh?” Jeffrey replied. “Well, what would you like to know? We’ve got nothing but time today. In fact, we’re just getting ready to shoot the mangle scene for today and then we’ll wrap it up before we review the dailies.”

“Mangle scene?”

“Oh yeah, if you’ve got a weak stomach or aren’t into gore you don’t have to watch.”

At least he gave me discretion. “Hmm, I think I’ll tough this one out,” I said. “For the blog.”

Jeffrey gave me a sincere but slightly unsettling grin. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

He was a nice guy so far, but you know how you just meet certain people that for whatever reason, out of their control, their aura seems off? Maybe it was my preconceived notion and warranted cynicism I had of people working in Hollywood. Just a bunch of sharks in a pool with hungry eyes for desperate young talents eager to take a dive in the spotlight. But as I’d imagine with any field, there had to be a decent share of lambs among the many wolves.

Suddenly, one of the makeup artists scampered over to us, their attention directly at Jeffrey.

“Hey,” they said to him with a noticeably fake inflection.

“Hey, what's up?” Jeffrey returned.

“Savannah? She’s losing it back there. Said she wants to talk to you and only you.”

Jeffrey nodded. “Don’t worry, I got it,” he said, as he patted his hand on the MUAs shoulder. He then gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Christian, duty calls, but hey, Tiffany?” he looked to the stern AD. “Make sure he gets a front-row view for the martini shot.”

“Yes sir,” Tiffany replied.

Jeffrey and the MUA stepped off to handle whatever business needed handling regarding one of the actresses backstage in the dressing room.

“Martini shot?” I asked.

“Last shot for the day,” Tiffany explained. “For me, that’s a term I like to take literally.”

She seemed so serious all this time that I found the joke almost funny.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There was now quiet on the set. Shooting was about to start shortly. At this point in the movie, the main character has a stand-off that turns into a big fight scene with the main bad guy at a warehouse factory building. At first, there’s a gunfight, then eventually they both run out of ammo and it comes down to a fistfight before finally having a standstill on top of a rail just over a giant industrial shredder.

Right now, the actor playing the bad guy, Will, is hanging on for his life over the rail above the shredder, while Thomas, the main good guy, is standing over him victoriously. My question was, is the shredder real? ‘Cause it sure as hell looks like it. It wasn’t turned on yet, but just from a glance it seemed legit enough that if I dropped something as sturdy as a microwave in there, it’d come out jelly on the other end.

For the blog, I told myself. For the blog…

Suddenly, my suspicions were confirmed once Jeffrey called to have the shredder turned on. The machine roared to life, the inverting sharp metal gears rotating past each other being a black hole eating everything that passes through it with no escape. Holy shit. It was actually fucking real.

Jeffrey gave the nod to the 1st AD, and the AD returned the same.

“Action!” the AD called.

Based on what Jeffrey showed me from the script, Thomas is supposed to stomp on Will’s hand that’s gripping onto the edge of the rail, causing him to fall to his death into the shredder. The camera was now rolling, yet, I didn’t see Thomas do the deed. Was he pausing for dramatic effect? Was he acting for the camera? I wasn’t quite sure why he was hesitating.

I peaked over to notice that Jeffrey, the once calm and collected man I met backstage earlier, was now beginning to seem noticeably impatient and about to snap at any moment. There was now that dark edge I noticed about him from before but couldn’t quite put a finger on that I could see now coming to light.

Hesitation filled Thomas’ veins, about to raise his foot, then not, dragging on the scene longer than intended. From this distance, I tried to see Will’s own expression, and I regret ever doing so. Surely he was acting, but I’ll be damned, it was too good. Whatever fear he portrayed transmuted itself into me now. It was the kind of fear that I didn’t think could be replicated on command. Jeffrey stood up from his seat, but just before he could say anything or call ‘cut’, Thomas stomped his foot down on Will’s hand, and we all watched as his fingers slip from the railing. Will sent out a bloodcurdling scream as he plummeted to his ‘death’. What followed will haunt me forever.

Do you know what it sounds like to have a person’s body mangled to death? Have you bitten into the bone of any sort of meat? Heard and felt the crunch? Or maybe even the crunch of celery? I myself have never broken a single bone in my body, but imagining what it might sound like other than what I’d heard in movies or video games all seemed elementary now. At first, I had to look away, but what forced me out of my seat to leave was Will’s horrifying screams. He’d fallen feet first into the shredder, so his lower body had to suffer first before reaching his upper body and finally silencing him at the head.

I ran to find the nearest trashcan and hurled. I guess I really didn’t have the stomach for gore, at least, not to this degree. Will’s screams kept looping in my head. It was a new primal sound that evoked a dread within me that I wish I never discovered. The sound of torment. One thing was for sure, Will was one fucking hell of an actor - if this was acting. But the shredder…

It seemed so real. And there was no greenscreen besides the ones to be used for the background later in post-production. I saw him fall right into the damn thing. With my own eyes. In living color. There were no edits, no crazy tricks, no lighting effects. There couldn’t be. It just wasn’t possible.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was sitting down trying to recuperate, as everyone else around me was wrapping up set for the day. Tiffany came over and handed me a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it.

“You feelin’ better?” she asked.

“Hmm,” I answered with a scoff, raising both my eyebrows and taking a sip from the bottle.

“I’m surprised you stuck around if you had such a weak stomach. I mean, he at least warned you.”

“I usually don’t. But that?” I shook my head. “How do you guys do it? It looked so real.”

“I’m just pulling your leg. I almost vomited too my first time. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

If it was a shame to flinch at something so vile, I don’t wanna know what goes on in Jeffrey’s mind to even come up with such a scene. Speaking of which, I still didn’t get a one-on-one interview with him as I’d hoped. All I had was the end result of his ‘movie magic’, but not how he did it. At this point, I'm not sure I really wanna know.

I went to go get my belongings, which were left in one of the dressing rooms, and was stopped by the sound sniffling from the one a couple doors ahead of mine. I looked on the door to read whose room it belonged to. It read: SAVANNAH YOUNG. She was one of the lead actresses in the movie, or rather I should say the only actress in the whole film. With the makeup artist and Jeffrey thing that happened earlier, it was evident to me that something sour had gone on behind the scenes I didn’t know about.

The door was cracked open and I couldn’t see her face entirely from my view, but I knew she was sobbing. She looked to be sitting in front of her mirror. I was about to just ignore it and go on about my business.

I lightly knocked on the door. “You okay in there?” I asked.

She stopped and I could hear her get up and approach the door. She pulled it back just enough to where I could see her whole face. She was beautiful, just like Jamie, even if she had been crying.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Savannah said. “Thank you.”

There was a brief awkward moment of silence between us. Clearly, she wasn’t fine, but I didn’t wish to pry any further than that.

“Are you one of the new PAs?” she asked. I arched a brow. “Production assistant?” she clarified.

“Oh, no, I’m just a visitor,” I assured. “Writing for my blog. I was supposed to be writing about behind-the-scenes things and how it all works around here, but I bitched out from the ‘mangling scene’.”

Savannah gave a short nod. “I see,” she said. “Well… I don’t blame you.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the way she said it or just from the state that I was in, but her words gave me chills.

“I should get going,” I told her. “Nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” she replied, and then shut the door.

I got my stuff from the dressing room and got ready to head out. I wonder what could’ve made Savannah so down to where the director had to get involved and set her straight. Jeffrey seemed pleasant to work with at first glance, but who knows, maybe he had a mean streak to him after all, especially the way he looked during the shooting of the scene. God, I just wanted to forget about it. I can’t unhear the sounds. The bones crunching, the blood splattering, and the screaming. The fucking screaming…

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As I was leaving the studio lot, I noticed the cleaning crew of two men dump a large amount of black bags in the dumpster. From the way they swung the bags over into the bin, the shit didn’t seem light. The bags were in several different sizes, some small, some big, some disproportionate. I stood there and watched as the two men finished disposing of the junk and walked away to go about their other duties.

Regular, common sense me would’ve just picked up the phone, called Jamie to let her know I’m ready to get picked up, and go about my day. But the nosy blogger me kept itching…

I made sure the coast was clear and made my way over to the bin. I can’t believe I was actually dumpster diving, and for what? What did I really expect to find? In my head, I knew the answer, but was avoiding it, either out of how ridiculous it may sound or, God forbid, I was right.

The trash wasn’t stacked high enough from the bottom for me to simply reach, so I had to literally get in there myself. I climbed over on the other end, raised the lid, and jumped down on the piles of plastic bags, holding the lid up with my arm and my breath so I didn’t get a huge whiff of the smell. Though, if I did need to puke again, I supposed this would be the place to do it.

I immediately noticed the bags the men threw away, but in order for me to check what was inside, I’d have to crouch down and let the lid close on me. Fine. That’s what the flashlight on my phone was for. Surrounded in darkness and garbage now, I turned the flash on, illuminating the four dirty walls around me and I pulled back one of the bags. I felt around to try and see what sort of contents might be inside. Mush. It felt all mushy with chunks of solid and a little bit of liquid.

This was stupid, I thought. I realized how stupid I probably looked right then and there, sitting in a bin full of filth looking for clues like some sort of private detective. My followers have no idea how far I’d go, but this was ridiculous. Oh well, I’m too deep in it now, no pun intended.

I held my phone in my mouth as I used my hands to rip open the plastic. My heart began pounding as I slowly pried the bag open. Once I got a peek inside, shame and embarrassment came over me.

Food.

I should’ve just called Jamie to come get me. Had I really become that desperate? I threw the bag over and out of my way. Then I noticed the bag underneath had trickles of fluid. Curious, I shined the light down on it. They were red trickles. Considering how I’d just overreacted only to find a bag full of thrown out lunch, I wasn’t about to get all up in arms about finding red drops behind a Hollywood studio lot. I didn’t know the full recipe for fake blood, but if I recall correctly, Alfred Hitchcock used chocolate when they filmed the shower scene from Psycho.

I tried to follow the small trail and see if it led to another bag. I slowly pointed the light further up and it led me to the bag just behind the one I tossed to the side. Looks like it had a small bust that caused it to leak. When I pulled this one over, a very noticeable smell filled my nostrils and erased any other scent of the trash that surrounded me. It was a metallic, rusty sort of odor, like copper from a penny. However, that smell also belonged to something else…

I ripped open the bag, and with the shine of my light beaming down, I was welcomed to a bright crimson sight of mashed blood and guts. It had to be fake, I thought. It had to… but the way I recoiled from the putrid metallic fresh scent of carnage, my primal instincts told me that wasn’t the case. I innately knew that it was real. I was staring at Will’s mangled body.

Frozen from fear, I sat there for who-knows-how-long. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I’d call the cops first, of course, but they would need evidence, and even then they’d probably dismiss me after I told them I dove into the dumpster of a movie set where fake blood is a common prop. I’d tell Jamie the same, but she’d look at me crazy, too.

I unlocked my phone and started snapping pictures. As much as I could. I even opened some other bags and did the same. I tried to snap every bit of remains that was left of Will and saved them into my phone. It felt like a sick test to see how long I could hold my breath so I wouldn’t gag, and I think I broke a new record that day.

I snapped probably about 47 pictures on my phone before I finally shot up and threw open the bin. The wave of fresh air hit me like a truck, and enjoyed it for only a brief second before turning to see Jeffrey, Tiffany, and the other AD standing by his side. My soul left my body right then and there.

“Christian?” Jeffrey said, sounding concerned.

Fucking say something, I told myself. I did my best not to stutter and look stupid.

“Hey, Jeff,” I said, raising the inflection of my voice, probably sounding dumb.

“Going for a swim there?” Jeffrey joked.

I fake laughed, then put on my best acting skills. “I cannot for the life of me find my ring.”

“Your ring?”

“Yeah, my mom’s ring?”

Then, with the slick subtle motion, I hid my hands to where they couldn’t see them behind the walls of the bin, and with careful coordination used my fingers on my right hand to pull the ring I already had on and flicked it down onto the trash below. I shuffled my feet over the bags I stood on to make noise so they wouldn’t hear the ring drop. Please God, don’t let the ring hit the hard bottom floor or one of the rusty walls, I thought. To my relief, it didn’t.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, Christian, I haven’t seen it,” Jeffrey said, as he looked at the other two as they also shook their heads. “But we can definitely look around again and let you know if we find anything.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying not to make my voice tremble with anxiety.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get you outta there,” Jeffrey said, waving his hand over.

I nodded and shot a quick timid smile. I climbed out of the bin and faced the three before me, wiping myself down.

“Hands a little messy there,” Jeffrey said.

Anxiety raced through me again, but adrenaline had my back to make sure I didn’t fuck up by saying anything dumb.

“Oh, the fake blood?” I chortled. “Yeah, you guys lots of that shit in there. Smells like a chocolate factory.”

Jeffrey fell for it, and laughed. Good. But he could just as easily be playing me right now.

“Given how you ran off earlier back there I’m surprised you can stand to look at it, better yet, touch it,” he remarked.

“I’m sorry about that,” I stammered but stayed on track. “It’s just… I now see for myself, no one does it like GF.”

“Haha, you don’t have to flatter me to get back my respect. Don’t sweat it. I totally understand.”

Is that so? I thought.

“You could use that martini shot right about now, huh?” Tiffany joked.

Definitely not with her any time soon. Or any of them, for that matter.

“Well we’re just heading out for the day, you got a ride?” said Jeffrey.

“Yeah, I should probably call Jamie now and let her know I’m done,” I replied.

“It’s no problem, man, I can give you a lift. I can drop you off wherever you need me to.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Seriously, I insist-”

“Jamie and I got a spa appointment to catch in a bit. Otherwise I appreciate the offer.”

Jeffrey had a brief look in his eyes, a glint of what I could only compare to a wolf’s gaze hiding behind that sheep’s clothing he carried himself around as, and then smiled and nodded.

“Okay, Christian,” he said. “Once again, nice to meet you and I hoped you enjoyed the tour, and hopefully make some good content for your blog.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Thank you so much again. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s nothing, Chris,” Jeffrey said, throwing me off a bit. “Can I call you, Chris?’

I shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I called you Jeff by accident,” I said.

“It’s fine. Chris and Jeff it is.”

I needed to get away from here. Now and as fast as possible. But I still needed to do one more thing.

“Any chance I can wash these off inside?” I said, raising my bloodied hands.

“Oh of course,” Jeff said.

“I can lead him back,” Tiffany said, ready to go with, but Jeffrey stopped her.

“Ah, he knows his way in, right?” Jeff looked to me for reassurance.

“Yeah,” I answered confidently.

“Good, well hopefully I’ll see you around, Chris, and you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thank you, Jeff. And you all do the same.”

As I walked past them and towards the studio lot, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was being set up. Why hadn’t he let Tiffany escort me back inside? I’d think that would be customary for them to do for visitors entering and exiting the building. But I felt that they were watching me from behind, and with every step, I grew more and more anxious.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’d made it inside and the lot was now nearly empty and quieter. I didn’t see a single person in sight, and only a few lights remained on, making it mostly dark. I hurried the fuck up and did what I came to do, as I didn’t wanna be here any longer and didn’t feel safe.

Down the hall where the dressing rooms were, I rushed over to Savannah’s door, and saw that it was closed. I tried opening it only to see it was locked. Looking down, there was no light shining through the cracks either, meaning there was no one inside. She wasn’t there. Shit.

I washed my hands in the bathroom, scrubbing the dried blood off as thoroughly as possible, getting under nails and all, cringing at the thought of it being Will’s. Suddenly, I heard a noise from outside the hall leading to the bathroom. Petrified, my heart sank into my chest, and I froze. I shut the water off, and carefully approached the door. I listened for any other sounds as I placed my ear closer. After a few moments, I heard the noise again, but then realized that it seemed to be coming from one of the dressing rooms just outside in the hall.

Since I carry a notebook around most of the time for jotting down notes, I certainly always carry a pen. What most people don’t know is that I carry a military tactical pen for a variety of uses, and in times like these, it can be used as a subtle but effective weapon. I switched the tip from an ink ball to a small slick blade.

I opened the bathroom door and crept through the hall over to the dressing room door that made the noise, holding the pen underneath the breast pocket of my sweater. On the outside of the door, it read, “WILL BANKS.”

Confused, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Common sense me once again kept barking in my brain telling me to GTFO, but I had to be sure. I gave three shy knocks and waited. There was definitely someone in there because whatever noise I thought I heard from behind came to an utter halt. I could hear faint whispers of someone’s voice, and then another. There was more than one. My hand trembled as it tightly gripped the pen underneath with sweat as I heard whoever it was on the other end of the door approach.

It swung open, and there stood Will Banks, the man whose blood was just on my hands moments ago, alive and well, in the flesh. It couldn’t be, I thought to myself.

“Can I help you?” he said.

I just stood there, baffled, without answering. Behind him, I saw Savannah, who instantly recognized me and came over.

“Hi,” she said. “I thought everyone left.” She looked to Will. “He was visiting the set today for his vlog, or I’m sorry, blog.”

Will nodded, understanding now. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t get to meet you. Will Banks,” he said, pointing at his name on the door. “As you can see.” Savannah chuckled, and Will extended his hand for me to shake.

“Christian, or Chris,” I said, releasing the pen from inside my sweater and reaching my own hand out to take his. "Whichever you please."

He had a firm shake, and it felt uncanny considering what I’d just witnessed. I was touching him, feeling his skin and bone underneath, the warmth of his body temperature through the flesh. He was real. He was alive and breathing. That couldn’t be faked. That couldn’t be a visual effect. This was real. After we let go, suddenly my hand went cold. Everything about this seemed off and downright strange.

“Did you stick around for the shoot?” Will asked.

“I did, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, what’d you think?”

I wanted to say so many things right then and there, he had no idea.

“Um... y’all are some damn good actors,” I said.

Will laughed a bit, accepting my sham form of flattery, but Savannah, not so much. She gave one of those forced gestures as to not make it feel awkward, though, I noticed it right away.

“How do you do it?” I asked.

“I would give you some artistic bullshit answer like ‘study your craft’ or ‘years of training,' things like that, but honestly… it just kinda clicks, ya know?”

I fake chuckled. “No, I don’t. It looked kinda real from my end. Too real, I might add. Care to go into detail how you guys pulled it off?”

“Well, uh-”

Savannah interrupted. “Wait, you know what Jeffrey would say,” she whispered to him.

“I know, but it’s for his blog,” Will argued.

“But still.”

“I mean, Jeffrey’s not here, right?” I chimed in.

They both looked at me, then at each other. There seemed to be some sort of nonverbal understanding between them, and Will looked back at me.

“All right, for the sake of your blog, I’ll give you what I can to the best of my wording, that sound good?” Will proposed.

I took the pen back out from inside, switching it to the ink ball with a short click, and whipped out my small notebook. “Hit me,” I said.

“Get ready for this one. Basically, we’ve been using a new thing in the biz lately sort of like mocap but it’s not exactly. It’s also kinda like hologram sort of tech?”

“Really?” I said, eyes widened with interest as I wrote words down.

“Yep. That’s how we did it. What you saw, was as real as the hologram thingamajig allowed you to.”

“Hmm.”

“The shredder, too.”

“What?”

“The shredder. That was a hologram also.”

“Really? Okay…”

I finished writing on my notepad then turned it so that Will could read it.

BITE ME, I wrote with a big circle around it.

He laughed. Savannah did, too, but, again, in a strange nervous and restrained demeanor.

“That’s a nice story,” I said. “So if you’re ready to quit bullshitting with me, and tell the truth, I’m ready,” I spoke in a playful yet no-nonsense tone. “How’d you do it?”

“You’re good, man,” Will said with a smile, pointing his finger at me. “Like a true journalist.”

Any other day I’d be pleased to hear that, but I was serious. I needed to know, so much that I’d forgotten how long I’d actually been here. I told myself I was gonna leave as soon as I could, but now, for some reason after talking with Will and seeing how personable and genuine he came off, he put me a bit at ease. Maybe I was blowing this out of proportion. But then the screams echoed in my head again, and the smell...

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?” I said.

“Look, I wish I could, honestly, but if I did, Jeffrey may not be too happy with either of us,” Will responded sincerely. That much was true, I could tell.

“All right, I think I tortured you enough,” I said, then immediately regretted my choice of words.

“No worries, man. Nice meetin’ ya. Good luck with the blog.”

“Thanks.”

I looked at Savannah one last time, and she looked back with a serious and almost scary gaze as though she needed to tell me something very bad. That’s who I came back for anyways. But that opportunity was a lost cause now, as I left with nothing and still no understanding of how Gemini Films did their visual effects? And I lost my mother’s ring. Fuck, I didn’t have time to go get it right now. I didn’t wanna risk being seen again. Hopefully, Jeffrey keeps his word and they somehow manage to give it back. That being said, I'd be fine with not having to see him ever again.

Whose blood was that? Whose body was that in the dumpster? Was it real? Was it actually just that well made to where the average person could be fooled into thinking it was actual flesh? Who’d go through the trouble of all that?

The screams of losing your life inch by inch, the sounds that would haunt me forever. And the smell of what was inside that bag. That instinctual gut feeling… how was it not real?

#writing #story #horror #nosleep #horror stories

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Top New Young Adult Books January 2021

You Have a Match: A Novel by Emma Lord

Type: Novel Publisher: Wednesday Books Release date: Jan. 12

Den of Geek says: Theres something quintessentially charming about summer camp stories, where kids trade their day-to-day for the wilderness. But this protagonist can’t escape everything at camp, and she’ll need the help of her sister to figure out the story of more than one family.

Publisher’s Summary: When Abby signs up for a DNA service, it’s mainly to give her friend and secret love interest, Leo, a nudge. After all, she knows who she is already: Avid photographer. Injury-prone tree climber. Best friend to Leo and Connie…although ever since the B.E.I. (Big Embarrassing Incident) with Leo, things have been awkward on that front.

But she didn’t know she’s a younger sister.

When the DNA service reveals Abby has a secret sister, shimmery-haired Instagram star Savannah Tully, it’s hard to believe they’re from the same planet, never mind the same parents — especially considering Savannah, queen of green smoothies, is only a year and a half older than Abby herself.

The logical course of action? Meet up at summer camp (obviously) and figure out why Abby’s parents gave Savvy up for adoption. But there are complications: Savvy is a rigid rule-follower and total narc. Leo is the camp’s co-chef, putting Abby’s growing feelings for him on blast. And her parents have a secret that threatens to unravel everything.

But part of life is showing up, leaning in, and learning to fit all your awkward pieces together. Because sometimes, the hardest things can also be the best ones.

Buy You Have a Match: A Novel by Emma Lord.

Lore by Alexandra Bracken

Type: Novel Publisher: Disney-Hyperion Release date: Jan. 5, 2021 Den of Geek says: A twist on Greek mythology from an accomplished author promises creative world-building and fantasy adventure. Publisher’s summary: Every seven years, the Agon begins. As punishment for a past rebellion, nine Greek gods are forced to walk the earth as mortals, hunted by the descendants of ancient bloodlines, all eager to kill a god and seize their divine power and immortality.

Long ago, Lore Perseous fled that brutal world in the wake of her family’s sadistic murder by a rival line, turning her back on the hunt’s promises of eternal glory. For years she’s pushed away any thought of revenge against the man–now a god–responsible for their deaths.

Yet as the next hunt dawns over New York City, two participants seek out her help: Castor, a childhood friend of Lore believed long dead, and a gravely wounded Athena, among the last of the original gods.

The goddess offers an alliance against their mutual enemy and, at last, a way for Lore to leave the Agon behind forever. But Lore’s decision to bind her fate to Athena’s and rejoin the hunt will come at a deadly cost–and still may not be enough to stop the rise of a new god with the power to bring humanity to its knees.

Buy Lore by Alexandra Bracken.

Siege of Rage and Ruin by Django Wexler

Type: Novel Publisher: Tor Teen Release date: Jan. 5, 2021 Den of Geek says: This month’s high fantasy installment is the finale in a popular series, and one that makes us want to see how the characters arrived and where they go from here. Ghost ships! Mind control! Publisher’s Summary: Isoka has done the impossible―she’s captured the ghost ship Soliton.

With her crew of mage-bloods, including the love of her life Princess Meroe, Isoka returns to the empire that sent her on her deadly mission. She’s ready to hand over the ghost ship as ransom for her sister Tori’s life, but arrives to find her home city under siege. And Tori at the helm of a rebellion.

Neither Isoka’s mastery of combat magic, nor Tori’s proficiency with mind control, could have prepared them for the feelings their reunion surfaces. But they’re soon drawn back into the rebels’ fight to free the city that almost killed them.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Buy Siege of Rage and Ruin by Django Wexler.

The post Top New Young Adult Books in March 2021 appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/39EpqNo

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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fatehbaz · 5 years ago

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Leslie Silko, Indigenous dispossession, local foodsheds, the “garden” as a manifestation of “botanical imperialism,” and “the many worlds entwined with the global networks of plants”:

In a 1998 interview with Ellen Arnold, in advance of the release of her third novel, Gardens in the Dunes (1999), Leslie Marmon Silko explains how she became interested in plants: “They come from all over the world, and they’re also another way of looking at colonialism because everywhere the colonials went, the plants came back from there.” Breaking from her initial plan to write a “nonpolitical” novel after her angry, intensely political previous work, Almanac of the Dead (1991), received harsh criticism, Silko confesses that “it wasn’t too long before I realized how very political gardens are .... I had actually stumbled into the most political thing of all -- how you grow your food, whether you eat, the fact that the plant collectors followed the Conquistadors.” The pages of Gardens evidence Silko’s keen interest in the relationship between plants and colonialism, and she dramatizes the historical contexts of Southwestern Indians’ struggles for food sovereignty and environmental justice.

Set in the 1890s, the final decades of the Indian Wars in the West, Gardens revolves around the colonization of indigenous minds and bodies through a variety of processes under the flag of manifest destiny: the loss of land and natural resources in general and the disruption of Native foodways in particular. [...] Moreover, it problematizes the privatization of food commons and its negative impacts on local communities from the Gilded Age to the present. [...] Silko, a writer of Laguna Pueblo, Mexican, and Anglo-American ancestry, employs the trope of the garden as a means of critiquing and revising modern America’s ecological imperialism, which has attempted to naturalize the conquest of Native lands and foodways. [...]

[...] [T]hree journeys in the novel [...] take place in different geographic locations: the privatization and enclosure of Native lands and the loss of traditional foods in the American West; the commercialization of indigenous plants in Latin America; and open source seeds exchange and transnational community organizing in Europe. [...]

On one level, the novel presents the garden as a window into U.S. settler colonialism and the advent of modern agriculture. However, the garden also provides a communal space for unexpected encounters and knowledge and seed exchange, which leads to self-transformation and transnational environmental organizing in latter portions of the novel. Drawing on what feminist science studies scholar Anna Tsing calls “patchiness,” I argue that tracing various forms of the garden in Silko’s novel -- from the desert garden in Arizona to gardens on estates in California and New York to the English and Italian gardens in Europe -- invites us to appreciate the precarity of the environment and the many worlds entwined with the global networks of plants.

Though reading global history in relation to culturally situated, site-specific indigenous knowledge is often challenging and unpredictable due to problems of scale, Silko skillfully weaves these “unruly edges” through her garden narratives and asks us to cultivate “arts of noticing.” From this perspective, [...] Silko’s project in Gardens not only allows us to read the relationship between the development of Western science and modern capitalism and the expansion of settler colonialism around the globe but also opens up new possibilities for thinking and remaking the world with others, both humans and nonhumans.

Yeonhaun Kang. “The Garden in Motion: Botanical Exchange and Transnational Collaboration in Leslie Marmon Silko’s Gardens in the Dunes.”

#leslie silko #ecology #tsing

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monleonrpg · 4 years ago

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WELCOME TO MONLEON:

FULL NAME: Quinn Bardot Wilde

OCCUPATION: News Anchor, Talk Show Host

AGE & D.O.B.: 36, 31 October 1984

RESIDENCE: Forcebadón

HOW LONG THEY’VE BEEN IN TOWN: On-and-off since birth

BIOGRAPHY:

Cue mark. Lights. Adjust the producer’s speaker into pearl-drop ear, as a squad blots on matte powder, combs out butter wave curls. Line paper stack against polished desk with two hits, shoot smooth scorpion retort at the co-anchor, flash that stained-lip smile and countdown three, two, one…

Quinn Bardot was ushered into this world on All Hallow’s Eve, alongside wayward spirits and bed sheet covered rascals, celebrated by miniature candies her father couldn’t pass-out from the front porch. This was the introduction to a woman with a life tied to bewitch, enthral. Raised by a commercial fisherman, Quinn earned her sea legs before she could properly walk - ever the babbling, feisty, curious little creature, entertaining the fish and her father’s colleagues with ridiculous stories rivalling shanties. A daring little thing, always risking safety or ease in exchange for a rush-filled dive, a four-wheeling race through the outskirts of town. The Bardot’s were far from living a cushioned lifestyle, and young Quinn took up odd-jobs on the bay when catch was low or competition high, from cleaning out the decks of boats tied at harbour to manning the dock’s supply shop. Her favourite aspect to time earning crinkled cash was reading the morning headlines, or exploring the waters on high-speed motorboats, investigating whatever ridiculous tales were conjured by friends at school. Eventually, this lead to a realisation that she was destined for investigative journalism, with a face fit for broadcast and the daring confidence to push her way out of town to pave her own glory.

At eighteen, Quinn left for university studying broadcast journalism. Her professors thought the small-town little madam had the sharp tack tenacity for a long-haul career if she could stomach the industry. Ruthless, broadcast could swallow hopeful girls with limelight dreams whole. But she persisted, through internships of sore feet, coffee runs, errands. Her own lofty dreams envisioned a stint in New York, or a jet setting career without even a single place for home, following hot leads, providing audiences across the globe with hard-hitting truths and salacious, thought-provoking stories. After graduating, Quinn took an assistant’s job in Monleon, from copying scripts, chasing leads, to clutching her mic on a strange location. The days were long, nights longer, indulging in her old-age tomfoolery to burn the candle at both ends. But this exhaustive approach to life was getting noticed. Soon, she was churning out stories that bumped viewing stats. Progressing from stand-in reporter to a network correspondent. Compiling a plan to build her own success, shift into a global pursuer of truth, knowing the risk and toils she’d still need to face in order to achieve it. But she was hungry, scrappy, passionate about her own work.

Everything changed when Quinn met her husband, a Wilde son who made a staple name for himself in Monleon due to his numerous ventures and amassed stakes in several businesses. He was an empire, a sharp-toothed lion in the form of a charmer. He came to her hard, fast, withstood her own game of cat and mouse, offered her ease on a gilded platter. Their courtship was a blur, and with it, came the offer of an anchor position on the morning news. Soon, the spitfire Bardot became a household name, easing in thousands of viewers each morning. Risky stories were replaced with smiles, accompanied by oohs an ahs. Quinn shifted out of muddied boots, into country club committee. The ideal wife, the postcard mother of two (one boy, followed by a girl), complete with an enviable prime real estate in Foncebadon, appointments and excursions booked for months, and a talk-show contract. Oddly, this surge of prosperity has rested with her chest like a pitted burden as of late. A trapped bird. Too aware of the darkness resting behind pristine fences, elaborate portrayals, perceived happiness. Quinn feels as though she’s spiralling out of her own control in this projected life, the dangers that risk to be brought to the surface, if anything slips. She remains as sharp as ever, pursuing whatever she can to keep bits and pieces of herself, but knowing how critical it is to continue gently toeing the tightrope of her own reputation.

QUINN WILDE is portrayed by ANNABELLE WALLIS and written by CAIT.

#a #f

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droo216 · 5 years ago

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Ravenclaw: old records and Indie music, telescopes, Wreck This Journal, buying three new books but just rereading your favorites, worn-out Chuck Taylors covered in Sharpie doodles, chasing rain paths down windows, bare hanging lightbulbs, Rubik's cubes, typewriters and ballpoint pens, watercolor stains, dreamcatchers, philosophical discussions at 2:00 am, peacoats and woolen scarves, hunching over a glowing laptop and typing furiously, world maps and globes, interpretive dance, magnifying glasses, chess, unorganized bookshops and hushed libraries, the Dewey Decimal system, astrology, the neverending stream of paint when you're trying to wash the brush, tortoise shell glasses, crunching autumn leaves under your shoes, dictionaries, classical architecture, Leonardo da Vinci

Gryffindor: combat boots, flannel sheets and plaid shirts, burnt matches, the bite in your chest after running really hard, hot showers, fireworks in the backyard, manbuns, leather jackets, cross necklaces, smokey eyeshadow, Arya Stark, skinny dipping, the Grand Canyon, passionate sports fans painted in their teams' colors, heavy quilts, bandaged hands, Cards Against Humanity, firebreathing, red solo cups, “We Didn’t Start the Fire” by Billy Joel, pepperoni pizza, double exposed photography, lip rings and septum piercings, fire escapes, superhero T-shirts, Poe Dameron, the smell of incense, double-sided sequin patterns, haunted houses, vintage Coca-Cola bottle

Hufflepuff: flower crowns, gooey chocolate chip cookies, the smell of laundry just coming out of the dryer, heavy sweaters in pastel colors, potted plants, mismatched picture frames, soup and sandwich combos, flour all over your hands and face, wooden bunk beds, Leslie Knope, The Brady Bunch reruns, the smell of freshly mown grass, dirt under your fingernails, fields of wheat, Swedish massages, the funnies, embroidery, dusty chalkboards, bees and honeycomb, fairy lights, suspenders, toes peeking out from under the covers, dried flowers pressed between the pages of a book, overstuffed chairs, Princess Tiana, coffee shops, dried herbs tied up and hanging in rows, hide and seek, saddle shoes, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, thrift stores, henna tattoos, Chapstick, knitting projects, smiley face umbrellas, LUSH bath bombs, shelves of assorted mugs, picket fences, Peter Pan collars, picking out fresh fruit at the grocery

Slytherin: French manicures, red lipstick, stilettos, antique gilded mirrors, crystal chandeliers, expensive perfume, Mac computers, foggy mornings, cuff links, American Horror Story, black cats, white cats, neon signs, satin sheets, Grey Goose vodka, tuxedos and black evening gowns, the first frost of the year, Tony Stark, lacy black lingerie, lipstick stains on white dress shirt collars, Lamborghinis and limousines, designer sunglasses, Paris, New York City, wing-tipped eyeliner, coffee black, velvet furniture, Venus fly traps, The Devil Wears Prada, succulents, crossing your fingers behind your back, "Royals" by Lorde, albino peacocks, fur coats, black chokers, Chandler Bing, hair dyed silver, marble sculptures, vintage cards, family heirlooms, gothic architecture

#hp #hp aesthetic #hogwarts #hogwarts houses #harry potter #idk i’ve had this in my notes on my phone for literally years #so i thought i would post it

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tabithacarlisle · 6 years ago

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*OFF THE RECORD Pairing: Maxwell x Tabitha (TRR MC) | (Liam x Tabitha & Drake x Liam are mentioned)

Word Count: 4392 (pour yourself a drink and settle in ;)

Warnings: 18+ NS*W, 🍋, marital angst, smut, extramarital affairs, pregnancy, swearing

bonus warning: this is my first fic in a long, long time! It’s probably super messy, but this story has been bouncing around in my head ever since I first read TRR Book 3’s Vegas Fling with Maxwell & it blew my mind!! ;) Glad to finally put it out there in print.

*OFF THE RECORD PREQUEL <<< click here!*

*Author’s Note: any time you see text underlined, it’s a link to screenshots from Pixelberry’s Choices TRR scenes, or other chapters referenced from *OTR- click them!! :) Notes: Pixelberry Studios owns these characters, not me! I just have fun playing with them :) Also a short snippet of dialogue quoted from Choices TRR 3 Chapter 16 “What Happens in Vegas...” is used as a flashback. This chapter takes place about 4 months after the Royal Wedding in TRR Book 3 Off The Record (OTR)by Jo (“@tabithacarlisle” :) Maxwell got the Caller ID notification on his iWatch:

‘Tabitha 👑🌸’.

He answered it right away on his cell,“Hey, ‘Your Majesty!’ Glad you called! I was just thinking about calling you, actually, I—“

(Crying, she cut him off) “Oh Maxwell...”::sob:: “Hey-heyhey hey, shhhhh, it’s ok. It’s ok! What’s going on- what happened?”

“I had to reschedule my sonogram appointment that was supposed to be for tomorrow. Bastien called. He said Liam’s one-on-one meetings at the Davos Summit are running late, and he’ll need to stay out there for another week. But, Liam wants us to find out the baby’s sex together, so I’ll just... have to keep waiting! Again! Oh my fucking gawd, Max! He’s always in ‘meetings!’ He’s always gone! I was just looking forward to us sharing that moment together to see our new baby, so much. How could Liam put off such an important milestone for his first child? It’s not fair. No— I shouldn’t say that. I mean,I know —He warned me what I was getting into when I married him, how he’d have to split his loyalties between me and his duties as King. But, Maxwell, I don’t think I’m cut out to be the sole parent while he galavants around the globe all the time! Our first sonogram! Is nothing sacred? For fuck’s-sake?!” Another loud sob escaped her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m hormonal hot-mess right now and more upset by this than I probably should be, but... I could really use a friend to distract me right now. I —“ “Say no more! I’m only a quick jet-ride away. I’ll be there a-sap.” She sniffed on the other end. “Omigod, I don’t know what I did to deserve a best friend like you, Max. Thank you.” Her statement caught Maxwell off guard. He felt his breath catch in his throat & his heart take a small leap in his chest. After that beat, he spoke, “Stop it. You deserve everything good, Tabitha. And, I feel the same about you, too.” ...

Tabitha had cared for Maxwell more than anyone in his had ever cared for him in his whole life, besides his late mother, and the thought of her being sad tugged at his heartstrings like no other. He’d do anything to make her smile and take her pain away

...... Maxwell fast-walked to keep up with Mara as she led him down the long, gilded hallway to the master bedroom doors. Even with his lanky, athletic legs and naturally speedy gait, his hurried strides still kept him about half a pace behind hers. Mara spoke to him over her shoulder, “Between the two of us, OTR? I’m thankful you came, Lord Maxwell. Her Majesty has been holed up in her room all day.” He gave a solemn nod and waited at the door as Mara rapped her knuckles on the frame “Lord Maxwell to see you, your Majesty.”

The sound of urgent steps grew louder before the door opened . Tabitha covered her sob with the back of her hand. “Oh Maxwell!”

They hugged, clinging to each other as if their bodies were buoys in the middle of a vast ocean. Maxwell placed a chaste kiss on her head as she burrowed it into his chest. After a few moments Tabitha pulled away from him long enough to address her bodyguard,

“Thank you, Mara. We’ll be fine.”

Mara gave a curt bow and left the room closing the door behind her. Maxwell gripped her hands to space their bodies apart as to get a better look at her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and Tabitha shuddered as she felt his barely calloused thumb pad wipe them away.

“It has been way too long, Tabz! I’m sorry I’ve gotten so wrapped up in my book tour. And I haven’t seen you since you and Liam announced the news. Look at you!” His eyes shone with emotion as he looked her up and down, seeing the small growing bump underneath her shift dress. “You’re going to be a mom!”

Tabitha’s sobs resumed with a heave in her chest, her hands still holding on to his. She looked down and sighed. “But Liam’s not here.” She let go to dab the corner of her eye with the back of her thumb. “This was supposed to be a big milestone. It was so important to me. It should have been important for him, too! This whole pregnancy, becoming a parent in the next few months, it doesn’t even feel real yet, y’know? I just want to see this baby so badly to prove that to myself, to hear its heartbeat again. And, I wanted this for Liam, too! He needs that affirmation just as much as I do. I want him to feel that this is real. For us. For the family we’re about to create.”

“Psssh. Of course it’s real, Tabitha! Look at me, look. This? Right here? This was always the ‘end game’ for us. Getting Liam to fall in love with you, getting the two of you married and secure your place on throne for Cordonia with an heir, it’s all real! You have no idea how proud of you I am.”

“Really?”

“You know it.” Maxwell clicked his tongue mischievously as he squatted down low, hovering his cupped palms over her belly. He looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes. “May I?”Tabitha smiled softly and nodded, touched by his reverence for her condition.Having permission, he placed both hands down over her stomach and turned his head as he spoke animatedly to it “Hello in there, Little One! Guess what? Gender reveal parties are so basic! Definitely too passé for a future celebrity trend-setter like you!”Tabitha giggled.He looked up to give her a subtle wink, then continued talking to her belly in a more of a whisper, but loud enough for Tabitha to hear him, “You are destined for so. much. more! And your favorite Uncle Maxwell is going to spoil you rotten, no matter what.”

Tabitha put her hands over his as she looked at him with happy tears beginning to well in her eyes, “I can’t wait for that to happen.”Maxwell beamed up at Tabitha and gave her belly an adoring quick kiss before he sprung up from his crouching position to a stand. He began to tear up too, seeing so much emotion stirring in her. There was so much he wanted to say, but now that she was the Queen he felt as if it was no longer his place quite like before, to be so free with his words with her. So instead, he stared intensely into her eyes and beamed at her, wishing to convey all he felt in his heart at that moment through his smile.

“Maxwell,” she began with a tentative shake to her voice “there’s somethi—“ “No, no.” he interrupted, “You asked me to be your distraction from all of this, and I promised I’d come through for you.” “When Maxwell Percival Beaumont makes a promise, he delivers!” Maxwell pulled a small thumb drive out of his pocket. “Ahem. OK, check . this . out. My buddy, Spencer, just gave me some bootleg pre-theatrical releases of ‘John Wick 3,’ ‘Avengers Endgame,’ and ‘The Curse of La Llorna’. Siiiiiick, right?! I’m so stoked! I’ll call the kitchen downstairs for popcorn and drinks, and we’re in business!“ “Ugh, no,” she groaned, turning away and shutting him down, “no action or horror movies tonight. You know how they put me to sleep.” He scoffed in mock disappointments at her, chuckling.”I still don’t get it. How the hell does anyone fall asleep during action movies?! What‘s wrong with you?” Tabitha shrugged, “I told you, without character development or drama to pull me in, it all just becomes too much overstimulation and I just, tune it out. The loud sound effects just start to sound like a white noise machine.” Yawning through her words, she continued, “But, now that you mention it, maybe that’s just what I need to cure my insomnia?” “No, nononono. I did not come all the way from Ramsford to have my bestie fall asleep on me tonight, Tabz!” Rubbing and patting her shoulders and crouching slightly to look directly into her eyes he said, “Here’s what we’re gonna do: I’m going order up sundaes to the room and we’re going to stay up hate-watching trashy reality shows. Whatever it takes for you to have the fun night that you deserve, ok?” She smirked in agreement, “Ice cream & trashy tv? Now you’re speaking my language.” Maxwell triumphantly gave his fist aquick air pump “Yes! I’ll call the kitchen up right now.” ...........

Within moments they were sitting sprawled on the oversized chaise loungers in the adjoining theater room, watching “Real Housewives of Cordonia” on the drop down projection screen and spooning mouthfuls of mutiflavored ice cream sundaes into their mouths. Maxwell had consumed enough wine for the both of them which warmed him plenty afterwards but Tabitha had to abstain. Brrrr!” She shivered “Omigod I’m freezing now!” Maxwell chuckled & shook his head, bouncing up right away to fetch a large plush throw blanket to drape over her with a dramatic flourish. He knew the drill. “Your wish, is my command.” “Thank you!” she gushed, her teeth were still chattering, “You’re so good to me, Maxwell.” “Mind if I stretch out here? I need to put my feet up.” Maxwell found her adorable when she was cold and pouty. “Of course!” He winked and motioned for her to cuddle up against him, “C’mere,” and as she placed her head on his lap he ruffled her hair playfully. In this moment, they were just Tabitha & Maxwell, ‘best friends.’ She was his first real best friend. Isn’t this what all best friends do? “She’s like the sister I never had” he’d tell his other guy friends when they had teased him about her. They didn’t believe him. Was that it though? They were about the same age but he felt an impulse to comfort and guard her from any one or anything that could make her sad. Like an older brother? No, it was much more complex than that. Maxwell draped his arm over Tabitha protectively and she snuggled up against him, her eyes closed for a brief moment, full of contentment. As the night wore on, several episodes later, Maxwell found himself laughing at a commercial and looked down at Tabitha to see why she wasn’t laughing too. She was sound asleep. “Geez, I should have known,” he whispered, “you always fall asleep when you lie down to watch tv,”

Maxwell felt a surge of warm appreciation for how much she still trusted him, after all this time, even after marrying Liam, to let down her guard enough to fall asleep on him. He found her breathtaking when she slept, watching her long lashes flutter softly over her cheeks. Pregnancy suited Tabitha; she was even more radiant than usual, and her hair was long and lush, spread out and falling over both her shoulders and his knees. Her lips were swollen and parted, and as he watched the rise and fall of her body, he fell in a sort of trance watching sleepy breaths escaping softly from her mouth every few seconds. Maxwell felt the urge to touch her. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, tracing over the braided bags that always crowned her forehead, and in doing this he began to recall the bachelorette party, the after party, “a free pass”

....... ~(flashback to Tabitha and Maxwell lying naked together in The Vegas hotel penthouse suite bed, Maxwell playing with her hair)~

“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and wonder if any of this was real...”

“What happens in Vegas...”

“Can happen anywhere else in the world?”

“Maxwell.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

~...

He remembered that night, the way she made him feel like the luckiest guy on earth. Why me? The future queen of Cordonia could have had any one that night for her ‘last premarital fling,’ sanctioned & blessed by none other than the her future husband, the King of Cordonia himself. And she picked Maxwell Beaumont? He remembered how out of character it was for her to seem nervous talking to him when she had brought it up at the hotel bar at the end of the night. The way she blushed and seemed just slightly and uncharacteristically nervous, she had never smiled at him like that before. He remembered she shivered when he kissed her neck, her collar bone, the swell of her breast, He remembered how she smelled, how she tasted, the soft, beautiful and otherworldly sounds she made as he went down on her on the window seat overlooking the Vegas Strip, how effortlessly he had fit into her, and how easy it had been for them to find their shared rhythm as they came together...

Coming to and snapping out of his flashback, Maxwell audibly whelped as he realized how close Tabitha’s face was to his crotch and his growing erection aching against the fly of his pants. The noise that escaped from the back of his throat caused her to stir, and he cursed himself under his breath for waking Tabitha up. “Err, sorry Sleeping Beauty but I... gotta—‘xcuse me!” he started to get up

Tabitha started to sit up herself, drowsily, with her eyes squinting against the glow of the projection screen in the semi dark room. Her line of vision came into focus onto Maxwell’s lap as he hastily tried to move from under her, and just as suddenly, she became aware of what must have been the source of his need to get away. “Maxwell! Omigod I’m so sorry- what happened?” Was that - was I touching you in my sleep? Liam says I—“ Hearing Liam’s name made his flight response kick into overdrive. This was wrong, this was so, so wrong and he had really fucked up, again. Maxwell blurted out “No! No no, it’s not— I just... had to—“ “Oh gawd” she realized he was leaving to go ‘rub one out’ in the bathroom, and the thought of him doing that had made her surprisingly horny, “Wait, Maxwell...” her hungry eyes begged him, looking him over up and down and resting at his girth. Then she sat up and did that thing Maxwell loved so when she bit the corner of her bottom lip, “You don’t need to take care of that alone. I can help you.” Oh shit. He couldn’t. She was married now. To Liam. King Liam. Maxwell began to really sweat now. fuck, is this really happening? I can’t let her do this I can’t— “No!” He pleaded, unconvincingly “I can just go—mmmphf!” His words of objection were silenced when her lips crashed into his and she them with the tip of her tongue. He lost himself, momentarily suspended in disbelief and letting go, groans escaping into her mouth as his hand moved to cup her jaw. But just as suddenly as the kiss had happened he remembered where they were, who was missing, and he let her go. “No, Tabitha,... what about Liam. You can’t. We can’t” “He’s not here.” she protested, wiping off her mouth. “He won’t be back for days. Bastien said this summit goes on for—” “But” he looked down at her baby-bump, asking his head. “I can’t, I don’t want to hurt the baby” Tabitha laughed “omigod, Maxwell! do you realize how often pregnant women have sex? It’s completely safe, nothing bad will happen to the baby” “...Really?” “Doctor approved. My hormones are raging, I’ve got no more morning sickness so now I’m horny all the time! Which is unfortunate because Liam has been.. distant, and busy.. And you know about, him and Drake, right? The real reason why Drake is always coming along on these international business trips with him?” “I mean yeah, I know... I know what used to go on” he nods, “but, I thought they would have stopped that by now, now that you’re married, I mean?“ “I had thought the same thing, but Mara & Bastien & Liam have placed so many restrictions on my travel. I feel like a princess stuck in a tower! I mean I get why they’re being overprotective, I’m carrying the future heir to the throne. But now that means I can’t be there for Liam when he gets he needs to be fulfilled. Drake is there, I’m not, so... I get it, I do. We’ve talked about it and we have an understanding. But, I get so emotional and lonely now, I just wish.... Liam has needs but, so do I...” she looked up through her lashes at him pleadingly and then back down her thin fingers ghosting over his belt. He gulped. “Yeah, ::pant:: ‘needs’, I know about those...” he could feel his dick stiffening again, aching for her. She kissed her way up Maxwell’s jawline and nipped at his ear, tenderly moaning into it.“Mmhmm.” Maxwell shivered. Tabitha’s hands went straight for his belt buckle. Like Houdini breaking out of a straightjacket she expertly freed his erection. When she pulled down the elastic from his boxer briefs his cock sprung out and bobbed up against his shirt. Tabitha grabbed his shaft and took him into her mouth in one swift motion. Maxwell’s hips instinctively thrust forward and he closed his eyes, grunting “jesusFUCK that’s good. ahhh!-“ he could now feel her canines lightly grazing his skin, her pointed tongue scribbling lines on him, and though his eyes were closed he could feel her smiling with satisfaction at how easy he was to please with each moan of pleasure he made. Maxwell’s hands grabbed her hair to pull her closer as her checks once again hollowed out to take all of him in. It was hard, really hard, for Maxwell to remember to have inhibitions and to mind the Royal protocol with his dick deep in her mouth. He knew he should stop, but then again, if he should stop, why would it feel so natural and so fucking good to be like this with her? “Tabitha...” She let the tip of his shaft roll out of her mouth and rest on her pursed lips while taking the length in one hand and his balls in the other, cupping him while circling the underside of the velvety head with the tip of her tongue. Licking him down and up, she traced the sinewy underside of the shaft, her fingers massaged tight circles on the sensitive spot just underneath his sac. “Nghhnn!” Maxwell saw how the lust in her eyes made her pupils flood them with black, darkening with desire. That look from her made his cock convulse and beads of precum began leaking at the tip. Tabitha moaned with him inside her mouth causing tantalizing vibrations on his member... but Maxwell’s trance was interrupted by a sudden and inconvenient thought invaded his mind. “Wait!”He pulled away from her. Tabitha looked up at him, confused “What?” she pouted. “I can’t cum in your mouth!” he almost whispered motioning to her stomach: “The b—.” Tabitha covered her mouth in horror “shit, you’re right” She blushed furiously.

Tabitha started to get up but her eyes darted to the side as a solution presented itself to her. She looked back at him with a Cheshire Cat grin and raked her fingers up his abdomen to his chest. “Well then, Lord Beaumont,” she purred “it looks like you’re just going to have to cum inside me.” Maxwell opened his mouth to protest, but soon forgot his objections when she came back down to meet his lips again. He smiled against her mouth and deepened the kiss as they raced and fumbled to finish undressing each other. Maxwell’s teeth playfully nipped and sucked at the exposed hollow of her neck and she gasped at the sensation. “Oh god, Tabitha. I want you so bad” he murmured in his soft, husky voice at her ear before he bit at the cartilage. “I need you now, Max.” she gasped. Maxwell’s hands palmed her breasts once he had sprung them from their confines and the heat of arousal blooming from her core at his touch was almost enough to send her over the edge. He lowered his head to take them in his mouth and stopped, his lips agape and his eyes widened, at how she had changed since the last time he had seen her naked. “They’re...so...big now!” A rakish smile crept on his face from ear to ear. He bent his neck again, meaning to tease her by biting her nipple, but it had the opposite effect and Tabitha whimpered. “ahhhAahh! More sensitive now, too!” Maxwell looked up apologetically at her “Sorry! I’ll be gentle.” Taking precious care now to avoid being so rough he swirled slow circles around her nipples with his tongue before taking her breast into his mouth to suck it. She moaned in the way that let him know he was doing it just right now and she could feel him smiling on her again.Tracing the faint raised lines of his hippo tattoo on his chest with deep longing she implored, him “I need you Max, right now.”

“Yes m’am!” He scooped her up into his arms and she squealed with surprised delight as he carried her over to the bed. Maxwell set her down dotingly on the pillows and kissed her again as he maneuvered himself on his knees between her legs. He allowed his shaft to slide against her folds, slick with arousal, rubbing back and forth on her clit. Tabitha grabbed the sheets and arched her back mewling with pleasure. “Now, Maxwell!” He guided himself into her and they connected at last. Tabitha’s ankles wrapped around his hips and he audibly groaned at how good it felt to be inside her again. His hips rolled into her rhythmically and she rose her pelvis up to meet them at his speed. She closed her eyes and reached down to rub her clit, but had made the mistake of forgetting how much Maxwell had liked to be the one in charge. He smirked and playfully slapped her hand away, replacing it with his own. “Nuh-unh, your Majesty, that’s my job.” This dominance in the bedroom was completely different than the dynamic she had with Liam and it was such a turn on. She whelped at the new waves of pleasure that coursed through her now, completely at the mercy of his touch. Grabbing one hand onto his bicep and the other at the nape of his neck, she anchored herself to him. Maxwell lowered himself to crush his lips against hers again, groaning and all the while never losing the tempo of his thrust. Tabitha pulled back to take a sharp breath and he pushed her wrists down to hold them against the bed and as he planked himself above her. Maxwell’s biceps flexed to hover over her just so as to not crush her with his weight. They stared deep into each others eyes, both a deep sapphire blue mirroring each-other’s intensity with pupils ever growing and darkening their depths, “Max- I’m gonna... nnhhh”

Her words came as he felt her walls begin to throb around him, and it set every nerve in his body alight. With ever quickening pace his breaths and hip gyrations intensified. He could sense that familiar feeling of his sac tightening, and from her shallow breathing he knew they were both almost there. Maxwell closed his eyelids as he gave over to the delicious pressure boiling over in him, and they climaxed together, groaning into each other’s necks to muffle their sounds of wanton euphoria

......

He turned over and collapsed sweaty and spent onto the pillow top mattress. There was a smattering of lazy breathless kisses and pets shared between them, but no words of consequence spoken. Staring at the ceiling, Maxwell took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. His mind was wrestling with the two warring impulses. One: get out of bed right away, get dressed and leave. She was not his & he was not hers, that was the standard procedure for all of his other one night stands. The second one was to wrap his arms around her and stay that way till morning in that beautiful postcoital bliss that he had only ever felt with her. Maxwell was relieved when Tabitha made the decision for him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder and tenderly draping her arms around him. He combed her hair with his fingers, staring at the ceiling until his heavy eyelids began to give way to sleep. They stayed that way for many moments, silent and breathing slowly with their chests rising and falling in alternation. “I love you” he whispered under his breath, meaning only for himself to hear it, just before drifting off. But then, he heard her, murmuring in her sleep, “The... baby... might be yours” Was he dreaming already? She couldn’t have really said that. Tabitha said she was on the pill during the unity tour, surely there was... no way that— but he couldn’t finish the thought before falling into a deep & dreamless sleep

...................

To Be Continued......? <<< click for *OTR Part 2

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @silversparrow02

also tagging some of my favorite bloggers who’ve tagged me before on their fanfics ;) : @tmarie82 @boneandfur @ritachacha @breaumonts @fullbeaumonty@scgdoeswhat @ludextruction @littlecrookedheart @jovialyouthmusic @queen-among-writers @choiceslife

#maxwell beaumont #maxwell x mc #trr fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #off the record #maxwell x tabitha #thirsty thursday #ns*fw #maxwell's vegas fling #lemon #tabithacarlisle #otr part 1 #liam x mc #drake x liam #playchoices fanfic

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