#...rise would be a good big sister for marta...

[iconsumeheadcanons]

marta lualdi and rise kujikawa are voiced by the same people in both eng and jpn and that makes so much sense now

#rise was scolding kanji and then jonny young bosch came in and i was like WAIT SLOW DOWN #tales of #p4 #...rise would be a good big sister for marta... #boop.txt

[dhwty-writes]

Chapter 11 - A Broken Bard

In the comments there were a lot of requests to finally let them talk. They talk. Also, there’s a bath scene. Yay?

The bath scene was inspired by @spielzeugkaiser‘s art here, who kindly gave me their permission to use it. It ends very differently, though. Going forward there will be more scenes like this, that you might recognise but as we’re telling two different stories, they won’t overlap completely.

I hope this is what you guys had in mind for them talking :)

Thanks as always to @persony-pepper for betaing this fic.

Summary: There is something deeply wrong about Lettenhove Hall that Geralt notices very belatedly: the complete lack of music. He confronts Jaskier about it.

Read on AO3

prologue | previous | next

There was something deeply unsettling about Lettenhove Hall and Geralt couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. It was odd, if he was honest. He normally spent his winters in the crumbling ruin of Kaer Morhen. Lettenhove Hall was a golden palace in comparison. It wasn’t as big, of course, but instead it was what Jaskier surely would describe as ‘cozy’. It was warm and dry, filled with the hustle and bustle that came with a well-kept household.

Still, there was something off. Distressingly so. It wasn’t just that the staff shot him knowing glances whenever he and Jaskier were in the same room. It wasn’t just that Jaskier had grown cold again after that morning of almost-normalcy, or even that the Viscount was planning something.

Geralt knew that he was. His not-friend might have many virtues, but subtlety was not one of them. Or patience. Every day the Viscount rode out into the forest for some reason or another. And he was always whispering to Ciri, both of them bouncing on the balls of their feet as they were conspiring. As if he wouldn’t notice. Still, he let them. They were allowed to have fun.

But that wasn’t what unnerved him. Geralt was certain that it was something else entirely, something important that was missing. Something important that he was missing. If only he could remember what it was.

Realisation dawned on him one morning, about one week after his return from the hunt. Ciri was already up, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet when he told her that they could start training in earnest again. She yelped gleefully and hugged him tightly before rushing down the stairs of the tower.

A small smirk spread on his face when he heard her quietly singing the chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher — he had taught her when she had begged him to. It wasn’t the same as learning it from Jaskier himself, of course. Geralt’s voice was rough and untrained and he had needed a few tries before he didn’t stumble over the words anymore. But it warmed his heart, really, to hear her do something as mundane as singing a plain tune. It was one of the simple joys of life that she’d been deprived of for the last months.

They reached the end of the stairs and Ciri reached the end of her song. “Give a hug to your witcher,” she sang loudly and launched herself at him. Geralt chuckled softly and let her cling to him while he shouldered open the door. “O valley of plenty! O valley of plent- oh.”

Everyone in the courtyard stopped dead in their tracks and stared at them in bewilderment. A pitchfork clattered to the floor, a stableboy nearly let go of not-Roach’s reins and Marta dropped the pile of clean laundry she was carrying.

“Geralt,” Ciri asked, the vinegar scent of her fear spiking, “what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed quietly and lowered her to the ground. He looked around for an answer, but whoever met his gaze quickly hurried away. Even Wiktor silently shook his head and went back inside.

In the end, it was only Marta who was left, still fussing over the laundry. He strode over to her and crouched down to help. “I’m sorry,” he said honestly. He was relieved that she didn’t flinch from his touch. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It- it’s alright,” she stammered. “It was nice to hear music again. Even if it was so short.”

Geralt frowned. “There is no music in Lettenhove?” he asked stupidly. That didn’t make any sense. It was Jaskier’s castle, of course there would be music of all kinds- Only that there wasn’t. “Shit.” It hit him like a club over his head. “There is no music in Lettenhove.” No music. None at all. Jaskier didn’t sing, didn’t play the lute, didn’t even hum. The closest thing to music he’d witnessed so far were the nervous rhythms tapped out whenever Jaskier’s mind started racing — he could tell when that was happening by now. But no music. Not even work songs from the washerwomen and cooks.

“Are you alright?” Marta asked worriedly.

“Wh-why not?” was all Geralt managed to stammer.

The servant glanced around as if she was waiting for something horrible to happen. Then she leaned in closely: “His lordship has forbidden it,” she whispered. “He’s terribly… passionate whenever he hears someone singin’.”

He nodded. Jaskier was passionate about a lot of things. Somehow, he doubted that it was a good thing in this case. “We won’t do it again,” he promised. Just for good measure he added once more: “I’m sorry.”

He got up and walked back over to Ciri who stared at him with bulging eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m an idiot,” he growled.

“Why now?” He shot her a mean glance that had battle-hardened warriors pee their pants before. His child surprise just cackled gleefully.

Luckily, he was spared the embarrassment of an answer as the doors to the East Wing burst open. His hopeful mood sank when a sharp voice cut through the air: “Witcher!”

He turned slowly. “My lord.”

“Jaskier!” Ciri shouted and ran over to him. “Have you come to watch us again?”

The Viscount smiled sadly. “Not quite. I heard you s-” He hesitated and the despicable scent of onions flared up. “I heard you.”

“Did you like it?” she asked eagerly. “I changed the lyrics, did you hear?”

“I did,” he answered and his voice trembled. Geralt felt a pang of guilt. “Who taught you that tune?”

“I did,” Geralt answered before Ciri could. The surprise surprise flashed over his face, mingled with amusement, sadness and hurt. “Is that the only reason why you’ve come? My lord?”

“Not at all,” the Viscount straightened his back. Geralt watched with astonishment as the stony mask of his Lord’s Face settled over his features again. He’d never get used to that. “I have come to whisk my dear cousin away. Should she be interested in receiving a very demonstrative lesson on a border dispute.”

Geralt frowned. “Do you think that’s safe?"

Jaskier snorted and waved his hand. "Of course, it’s safe!”

“I’ve heard that one before.” He crossed his arms defiantly. He trusted Jaskier with his life. The Viscount wasn’t stupid — he was about as far from stupid as they got — but in sixteen long years the bard had never displayed so much as an ounce of self-preservation. Geralt had the scars to prove it. “I remember hearing that before we got arrested in Oxenfurt, spring 1251, because four months earlier you had thought it a great idea to publish a smear poem about the Headmaster of the Academy under your name. Or that time we were visiting an old friend of yours and we were thrown out because you had slept with his mother, his father’s mistress, and his twin brothers. Or your innumerable shortcuts that inevitably ended us up fighting some kind of monster, or guards, or both at once. You’ll forgive me if I do not trust your judgement completely.”

“Now, that was three examples, Geralt-”

The witcher growled menacingly. ‘Fucking bardlet.’

“Right!” He sighed exaggeratedly. “How many guards do I have to bring along for you to allow her to go?”

“None,” Geralt answered simply. “Only me.”

“No,” he said decidedly. “I want to talk the man’s ear off, witcher, not start a war. If I show up with you at my back, I could skip the parlay altogether and just throw my gauntlet at his feet.”

He frowned deeply. “My answer’s still no.”

“Your answer?” Jaskier laughed hoarsely. “What gave you the impression that I was asking your permission?”

Ciri cleared her throat awkwardly, completely forgotten by the two men. “I, uh- I’d rather not go if Geralt thinks it’s unwise.”

He had a hard time to keep the triumphant grin off his face and judging by the strain in Jaskier’s voice he was struggling just as much to keep his emotions in check: “Fine.” He turned to Geralt. “Will I be able to convince you if I outline the whole dispute to you?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Come then.” To Ciri he said: “Why don’t you go look what Janka and Józia are up to, hm?” The girl nodded eagerly and left skipping over to the North Wing, where the Pankratz sisters were to be found at most times.

He himself followed Jaskier up to his study once again. As soon as the door shut behind them the Viscount walked over to where a map was smoothed out on a side table. “So, this is what we’re dealing with…,” he began talking immediately.

The Viscount de Lettenhove talked about the tensions between his viscounty and the neighbouring barony of Dergetten that were on the rise again since his father’s death. He also continued to include the various disputes over the last five generations — the previous Baron of Dergetten had apparently relieved Jaskier’s grandfather Julian of his left hand while his great-great-grandfather, the first Viscount Pankratz, had killed the heir of his neighbour in his time.

“Though, I have to admit I am incredibly thankful to good old grandpapa Albert for that violent streak of his. That is what convinced the Count of Hangfelt to entrust us with this lovely castle for safekeeping. Be glad that his descendents haven’t regretted their decision yet.”

All in all, Jaskier insisted, it was just a conversation. He would bring guards because the Baron would, too, but he claimed that they were friends.

“That’s just the kind of thing province nobles do for fun,” he closed his lecture with a roll of his eyes. “Not that I approve, of course. But I promise you it will be a most educational experience for dear Cousin Fiona. I learned to talk myself out of, what is it father used to call it? Ah, yes, ‘aggressive negotiations’. I learned to talk myself out of 'aggressive negotiations’ first, before I learned to talk myself out of almost-castrations.”

Geralt frowned. “Ciri won’t have to do either.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. “Sure,” he drawled, “and how exactly did you arrive at the conclusion that your child surprise would lead a chaste life?”

“Hmm.”

He grinned triumphantly. “So, witcher. Are you satisfied?”

“Hmm,” he said again, glancing around. His gaze settled on the sword at Jaskier’s hip. “If anything happens, you will use that to protect Ciri with your life,” he growled. “Don’t care if you can wield it or not, but you will. Do you understand, bard?”

“Viscount, but yes,” his voice was solemn all of the sudden, “I understand. I mean, she would probably do a better job of protecting me by now but it won’t come to that. Never. I swear.”

Geralt took a deep breath. He didn’t like letting Ciri go with Jaskier. It wasn’t like when he left, that was him out there in the danger. Now however… He wouldn’t even be able to do anything if something happened. That was nothing short of torture. Still… “Alright,” he conceded. “How long until you’re back?”

“The border’s not far from here. Used to be, but, well, that’s another story. Two hours of riding, three maybe, then we’ll spend the same time insulting each other very politely — I’m sure we’ll lose at least half an hour because Ciri wants to join in, she likes that. And then we’ll ride back. We’ll have to see, maybe she’d like to see one of my other villages, then we’ll take longer. We’re also going to stop and eat at one point. So, sundown. At the very latest.”

“Alright,” he said again. “Fine. Have… have fun, my lord.”

“I guess we will.”

He shrugged and turned back to the door. After a moment of silence Jaskier added: “Geralt, wait-” They both hesitated. In the end, it was Jaskier who spoke first: “We have to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Fighting over Ciri. Especially when she can see us.”

He frowned in confusion. In Kaer Morhen the other witchers had never had any qualms about fighting before the apprentices’ eyes. Even in the literal sense. “Hmm.”

“It’s just-” Jaskier sighed. “It’s not good. Trust me on this one, Geralt, please. I know that we… We’re not alright right now. And we probably won’t be for a long time. But that’s our problem. It shouldn’t affect Ciri. Alright?”

“Alright,” he answered quietly, his heart beating so fast it could almost pass as human. “But will we be?”

“Will we be what, witcher?”

“Alright.”

He sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” he answered with a quivering voice. “Not if we don’t work for it. Not if we don’t-” He bit down on his lip. “All in due time,” was what he said. What Geralt would have given to know what Jaskier was not saying.

“Hmm. Sundown you said?”

“I did.”

“I’ll wait for you. Good luck, my lord.” He left before Jaskier had a chance to answer.

He didn’t even wait for Ciri and Jaskier to leave before throwing himself into work. He changed into his stable clothes and headed downstairs but even before he could enter the stables, Wiktor stepped out, Pegasus’ reins in hand.

“Here,” the stablemaster said, “take him for a good long ride. Takes your mind off other things.”

“Hmm.” Geralt didn’t protest for fear of his voice abandoning him. He just swung into the saddle and was gone when Ciri and Jaskier came to fetch Dancer and Dreamer.

Wiktor was right. He didn’t have much of a choice besides concentrating on the young horse below him, still wild and eager to run free without a rider. And yet, he found his mind wandering. To Ciri, of course, and Jaskier off to their parlay.

But also back to just Jaskier, who didn’t sing anymore. He cursed himself silently and loudly for not noticing before. That was the kind of thing one spotted immediately when reuniting with a friend after a long time of separation. But they weren’t friends anymore. And Geralt reckoned he hadn’t been a good friend before.

He didn’t return until after lunch, both him and Pegasus drenched in sweat despite the freezing temperatures. He gave the yearling’s reins over to a stable hand, and went on to grab Jaskier’s old wooden sword.

He was about to head out the gates again when he heard rapid steps on the stairs. “Oi!” Marin shouted. “Oi, Geralt, wait!”

The witcher grunted annoyed but waited nonetheless. “What?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“What for?”

“To spar,” the Captain of the Guard raised his own wooden sword, “or to blow some steam off. Both, if you like to.” He smiled kindly. “You look like you could need it.”

“Hmm.” He wasn’t really in the mood for company. But he didn’t want to argue either. He didn’t want to talk at all, if he was honest.

“Come on,” Marin bumped shoulders with him. “I promise you I’ll put up more of a fight than a tree.”

“Fine,” he caved. Side by side they headed out into the woods. Marin was chatting amicably and Geralt answered with the occasional grunt. It was… easy. Almost too easy. When the sparring started, the teasing started, too. That felt even easier. To respond to the barbed comments with jabs of his own. He could almost pretend- He knew he shouldn’t, but he could.

It also felt good to train in earnest, not just thrash a lifeless tree. Marin didn’t compare to sparring with Lambert or Eskel, of course, but it was better than nothing.

It was the late afternoon when they trudged back up the hill to the castle, and Marin finally managed to get a laugh out of Geralt. Later he couldn’t remember what it had been about, but for a short moment he wasn’t worried. He was almost happy, in fact.

“Ah,” Marin sighed contentedly, “and here I thought you didn’t feel emotion after all.”

“Hmm.”

“So, it’s untrue? That rumour, I mean.”

“It is.” His skin crawled uncomfortably but luckily he was spared another question when a guard called down from the walls: “Oi, witcher! Where’ve you been? His lordship and his cousin got back an hour ago.”

His heart sped up and he cocked his head. “And?”

“Both hale and hearty. His lordship’s in his study, I believe; and Lady Fiona ran to Lady Józefa’s drawing room. She’s very excited ‘bout something.”

Geralt nodded and tried not to seem too thrilled, forcing himself to slow his step. “Thanks.”

Marin’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. “Go on,” he said and gently pried the wooden sword out of Geralt’s grasp. “We’ll talk another time.”

He looked at him surprised for a moment. Only when the Captain of the Guard nodded once more in encouragement he pounced. He didn’t even try to hide his hurry as he sprinted over to the North Wing and up the stairs.

“Where is she?” he asked as he burst into the drawing room only to find it empty except for Józefa.

“Good evening to you, too, Geralt,” she said very calmly, not even looking up from where she was weaving an enormous tapestry. “Where is who, if I might ask?”

“C- Your cousin. Fiona.”

She turned around to him. “You can call her Cirilla to my face. I know.”

Geralt frowned. “Fuck,” he cursed and turned on his heel. 'Tonight, it’ll be bard’s head on a platter.’

“Ah, ah, ah. Before you go and gut my brother, he had nothing to do with it. She told me all by herself.”

“Fuck,” he said again. ‘She should know better than be that stupid.’

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Anyways,” she sighed and turned back to her work, “your child surprise — Geralt, could you at least face my direction while I am talking to you? That would be very appreciated, thank you very much.” He ground his teeth and turned back towards her. “Well, where was I? Ah yes, Cirilla. She was here. Wanted to come and look at the tapestry and tell me about her day. She was very enthusiastic. Apparently, she rendered the Baron of Dergetten speechless and dear Julek nearly fell off his horse because he was laughing too hard. Also, she’s very cross at his lordship for sending her away for half an hour while staying back to discuss something in private. You missed her by… hm, ten minutes maybe, I’d wager. She was rather tired.”

“Hmm.” That was a lot of information. He was still eyeing the tapestry while trying to decide what to do now when Józefa spoke again: “Come and look if you like,” she said with an inviting smile.

“I’d rather not, my lady,” he grumbled. He should go and look after Ciri.

That made her laugh. “Don’t be shy. And don’t pretend you don’t want to look.”

His eyes flitted to the door. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, he guessed. And Ciri had talked a lot about the tapestry since he got back. It would be nice to know what she was talking about for once. “Fine,” Geralt relented and stepped closer.

He had seen his fair share of finished tapestries but never observed the process. For rugs, yes, but not this kind of art. He had imagined it to work much like the common rug and while the loom looked much the same, Geralt gaped. “There’s a painting,” he noted. “And a mirror.”

“Why, of course,” Józefa seemed genuinely confused. “How else would you make a tapestry?”

He shrugged and looked at the painting instead. All five Pankratz siblings were depicted, the four sisters standing around Jaskier in his high seat. As far as he could tell, it was very accurate, especially given that it couldn’t be a portrait. 'She really knows her siblings’ faces well.’ He didn’t pay too much attention to the three siblings he already knew, but stepped closer to observe the other two.

He didn’t even know their names, he realised with shock, but he would’ve guessed that they were Jaskier’s sisters regardless. Just like Janina, too, they could have been twins. Quadruplets. Whatever. The same soft brown hair, the same round face, the same piercing blue eyes. Of course, there were differences, too, subtle enough, but still there. Jaskier would point them out in a heartbeat, wrapped in pretty words. All Geralt noticed was that they were beautiful like their brother.

“Oh,” Józefa said, “you have never seen the process!”

He frowned, the increasing accuracy with which the Pankratz siblings saw through him made his skin crawl. “Those are buttercups,” he said instead and pointed at the painting. The five people were all holding bouquets in many different colours, Jaskier’s the same as his namesake.

“Ah, yes.” Józefa smiled fondly. “Mother gave him that silly name. Jaskier, I mean. I thought I should honour that. Beautiful and poisonous.”

“And the other ones?” The Józefa in the portrait was holding primroses, and Janina daisies. The other two held red clover and lilies of the valley respectively.

“From our mother, too. Stokrotka and Koniczyna for Janina and Jolanta, the most common of flowers. Konwalia for Justyna, poisonous as well. And primroses for me, the one that was spoiled the most.”

“Hm,” Geralt made. “The sense of humour runs in the family.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t.” She made a disgusted face. “You see, dear Janka-” The doors burst open. “Ah, speak of the devil…”

“Don’t we have endured enough in the past month, Józia?” Janina Pankratz flared. “Is a witcher in our home not enough punishment for whatever crimes we might have committed? This is getting ridiculous!”

Józefa sighed while Geralt did his best not to growl. “What did he do now?”

“He’s locked himself into his rooms, like the spoiled brat he is. He’s sulking, for whatever reason, but I tell you it’s his fault! I offered to go to the parlay, I know Daniel well enough, but did he listen? No! Wanted to do it all by himself like a big boy and what did it get him? He ruined it, somehow, I’m sure of it. Worse than this damned cousin he brought here; she’s listening at least when an adult is speaking. I remember why I was glad to have him off at Oxenfurt or Melitele knows where. Oh, what I would give for the possibility of him ending up dead in a ditch at every moon’s turn! I tell you, Józia, I’d put him over my knee, if I could!”

Geralt couldn’t keep quiet anymore: “You shall not,” he growled. “You won’t harm one hair on his head.”

Janina whirled around, noticing him behind the painting for the first time. “You!” she pointed at him.

“Me,” he confirmed.

“You stay out of this,” she bristled. “Besides, it’s beyond time that you learn your place in this house, you-”

“Janina,” Józefa said quietly. To his surprise the eldest Pankratz sister shut up.

“Fine,” she sneered. “I’ll come back when our drawing room is clean again.” With that she was gone, slamming the door loud enough to make Geralt’s ears ring.

Once he had recovered, he asked: “Why does your sister hate witchers so much?”

“Janina?” Józefa sat down behind the loom again. “Has nobody told you? Our mother died twenty-four years ago. She was killed by a monster; I don’t even remember what kind.”

That was a common enough story. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Julian and Janina are the only two with real memories of her anyways. I was two years old when she died and I can’t even remember her face. Though, well the witcher thing… Father hired one to get her back. Don’t ask which school or anything, all tales about The Incident have been banned from Lettenhove years ago. Not even Julek dares break the silence. Not even now, after-” She sighed and took a moment, blinking at the ceiling. There were tears in her eyes, though she did not smell of onion grief.

“You don’t have to,” he offered nonetheless.

“No, I want to,” she insisted. “You deserve to know. He couldn’t bring her back, of course, she had already been dead. The witcher only returned with her corpse. Janina has hated your kind ever since.” She sighed. “Julek on the other hand… why, you became his heroes.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad that he became such good friends with you. And that he got to travel the Continent with you, it has always been his dream. I believe you have made him the happiest man alive.”

Geralt swallowed hard. “I… did nothing to warrant your praise, my lady. I made him very sad, actually.”

“Is that why I barely recognise him anymore?”

“Hmm. I fear so.”

“Then fix it, witcher. We have all heard his songs and in those you are a hero. And Julian might be a lot of things — a debaucher, a nitwit, and a self-important swaggerer who impossibly inflates all of his tales. But he is no liar. Not when it’s truly important.”

He had the feeling he was missing something. “So?”

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. “So, live up to your reputation and save him. He is withering like this."

Geralt ground his teeth. "I’m trying,” he grunted. “I just don’t know how.”

“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” She picked up the thread again. “You could start by trying to coax him out of his rooms.”

“Your sister said he’s locked himself in.”

She looked at him as if he was exceptionally stupid. “Well, then get creative! I’d be very surprised — and disappointed — if those doors don’t open for you. And now off you go, I want to hear the gossip.”

Geralt wasn’t really sure what made his legs move. First out of the Drawing Room, then down the stairs and up again, until he stood before Jaskier’s room. 'I wanted to look after Ciri,’ he reminded himself, but this was oddly more important. He also suspected that he’d never find the courage again if he bolted now.

And so, Geralt of Rivia meekly knocked on the Viscount de Lettenhove’s rooms. “My lord?” he asked.

No answer. He shouldn’t be surprised. He almost turned around again to go check on Ciri first, but then Jaskier’s faint voice beckoned him inside an empty bedroom.

“Uh-” Geralt said, confused.

“Over here,” he answered and Geralt quickly strode over to another door he hadn’t noticed during his previous visit. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the bathtub Jaskier was soaking in.

“My lord?” he asked hesitantly.

“Come in,” the Viscount commanded.

“Maybe I shouldn’t-”

“Just close the door, Geralt,” he sighed tiredly and raised a golden goblet to his lips. The smell of alcohol permeating from it was entirely too strong for it to just be wine.

“Alright,” he answered quietly and did as he was told. Jaskier drank again and he could feel worry creeping up his spine. “Are you drunk?”

“Not enough,” the Viscount answered and took another deep gulp.

Unsure what else to do, Geralt sat down on the side of the tub and asked: “Your parlay didn’t go well, then? Your, uh- your sister said that Ciri said it did.”

“Which one?”

“Take a guess.”

“Janka still won’t talk to you, huh? I’ll see to that.” He swirled the liquor around in his cup. Before Geralt couldn’t take the silence anymore, Jaskier thankfully continued: “It was… alright, all things considered. Hoped it would be better. Feared it could go worse.” He looked straight at Geralt. “There’s no going back now, witcher. The stage is set. Now we just have to play our parts.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

Jaskier sighed and dropped back against the tub. It did nothing to quell Geralt’s worry, but at least it served to empty out most of the goblet. “All you need to know is that it went well enough. Though I suspect-” He halted.

“What do you suspect?”

“No, let’s not talk of that. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“You know that I’m here if you want to talk.”

He snorted a laugh. “Those words don’t suit you, witcher. Whenever I hear them from your mouth, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re mocking me.”

'I’m not,’ he wanted to say. But his words failed him as so often.

Jaskier sighed and pushed himself upright again. “Now, what did you come for?” He glanced into his cup and frowned when he found it empty. Carelessly he tossed it away.

Geralt averted his gaze. “I’m not sure if now’s the time…”

“My witcher,” he said coldly.

“My lord?”

“Talk,” the Viscount ordered without turning to face him.

And so, he did: “You did not ask me for details about my hunt.”

“I did not,” he confirmed.

“You’re-” He wet his lip with his tongue. He knew that no matter how he posed that next question, there would be trouble. “You’re not writing a song.”

Jaskier’s jaw clenched immediately. “I am not. I was under the impression you didn’t like them.”

“And I was under the impression you wrote them regardless,” he shot back without thinking.

The Viscount’s expression grew cold. “So what? Is your ego so inflated you think you’re owed songs now?”

“I do not, my lord. I was also under the impression you wrote them because it is your passion,” he said calmly. “I did not mean to offend you.”

There was no answer at that.

“You’re not singing, either,” Geralt continued cautiously. “Your hands are soft and your lute is nowhere to be found. You tell Ciri stories but never sing for her.”

“Get to the point, witcher,” Jaskier ground out.

Geralt steeled himself and asked with as much courage as he could muster: “Why is there no music in Lettenhove Hall, my lord?”

Jaskier whipped around to him, water sloshing over the rim of the tub and drenching Geralt’s breeches. He wanted to stand his ground but there were tears in Jaskier’s eyes, the scent of anger and sadness wafting off him. He stood and swayed, coughing at the foul odour. “Because I despise it, witcher. I hate every tune I ever wrote, every line I ever composed. I cannot stand it anymore. Just thinking of it makes me sick!”

Geralt retreated farther as a thick cloud of onion grief hit him. “Is it my fault?” he asked agonised and immediately cursed himself for it.

The tears flowed freely now, Jaskier choking on his sobs instead of answering. 'Foolish witcher,’ he chided himself, 'of course it’s your fault.’

He regained his balance and avoided Jaskier’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I am so sorry. If I could-”

“No.” Jaskier sniffled. “Not for that.”

'For what then?’ he wanted to ask but didn’t. 'Coward.’ Three times he reached out only for his hand to fall back to his side again. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I think you’ve done quite enough.” Geralt didn’t even dare to breathe. Spicy pepper flared up. “Go away, witcher.” When he hesitated for just one moment, Jaskier shouted: “Now!”

Geralt was too craven to do anything but obey.

A/N: And now you can come yell at me in the notes.

#My writing #OWBABH #geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #cirilla of cintra #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #of witchers bards and broken hearts #geraskier fanfiction

[definitelyzoey]

FRIENDS: Why we’re still in love with this charming and lovable gang? #SquadGoals.

Friends is a successful American television sitcom, which includes Jennifer Aniston, Courteney Cox, Lisa Kudrow, Matt LeBlanc, Matthew Perry and David Schwimmer as part of the show’s main characters. The TV sitcom revolves around the interesting and unpredictable lives of the six 20–30-something friends who live in Manhattan. 

The hit series was created by David Crane and Marta Kauffman, and was aired on NBC from September 22, 1994, to May 6, 2004, lasting ten seasons. It has already been 23 years since the show was out and to this day, MY FRIENDS are still loving this hit TV show. I cannot even begin to explain how this show had turned my life around. The six talented actors/actresses had their different kinds of contributions to the show that only the six of them could ever fulfill. And just like any other success story there were a lot of setbacks and struggles for the show but they still pulled through and lasted with 10 seasons.

One of these struggles included Jennifer Aniston and how she was almost replaced for the show due to filming commitments with the short-lived series, Muddling Through. She has people calling her saying that they are auditioning for her part as Rachel Green and she struggled with the back-and-forth from Sony to Warner Bros. for two weeks. Luckily for the 45-year-old actress, Muddling Through only lasted three months so she was able to keep the role of Rachel, but confessed producers almost made her play Courteney Cox's character, Monica. Jennifer said: “They wanted Courteney to play Rachel, and unbeknownst to each other, I wanted to play Rachel and she wanted to play Monica. It worked out perfectly.” 

Another struggle for the show was the unexpected rehabilitation of Matthew Perry. Behind the sarcastic and witty persona Matthew Perry played as the famed Chandler Bing — the former "Friends" star was battling a serious addiction to drugs and alcohol. He really opened up about his struggles during the hit show's 10-year-run.He reflected on his routine alcohol abuse and a jet-ski accident in 1997, which led him to the use of prescription drugs. "Here, take this,” the actor recalled of a physician telling him at the time."I did and I felt better than I ever felt in my entire life. I had a big problem with pills and alcohol, and I couldn't stop." Perry was cast on "Friends" when he was 24-years-old and entered rehab twice during his rise to fame. The cast was raking in an unbelievable $1 million per episode."I was on 'Friends' from age 24 to 34. I was in the white-hot flame of fame. The six of us were just everywhere all the time," Perry told People’s Magazine."From an outsider's perspective, it would seem like I had it all. It was actually a very lonely time for me because I was suffering from alcoholism." And though he was having a battle between his use of alcohol and drugs, the cast and the whole production did not allow him to be left in that state and had helped him through his personal crisis and not giving up on him. Soon he had recovered and had gained the weight he had lost and was able to start his life the RIGHT way. 

And other few minor things that they’ve gone through were  Ellen DeGeneres turned down the role of Phoebe that was played by Lisa Kudrow, the renaming of the series countless of times and the show was originally intended to be called Insomnia Cafe but producers thought it wouldn't catch on. It was then renamed Friends Like Us, and then Six of One before finally becoming simply Friends, and then there was a time where Lisa Kudrow got pregnant and was unable to get out of work so the storyline of Phoebe carrying her brother's triplets was only written because Lisa Kudrow was pregnant in real life and can’t take a time out from filming, another struggle would be the part where some casts like Jennifer Aniston had to work with people she didn’t like and unfortunately for  Reese Witherspoon who was signed up for around six episodes, got cancelled because apparently Jennifer Aniston disliked her and asked the producers to fire her.

Some of the other struggles of FRIENDS are actually still present in today’s topics of society like their view about how Chandler's transgender father is often referred to as her birth name 'Charles' rather than her new name 'Helena Handbasket'. Incorrect labels are used when the cast are talking about her, lots of jokes are made about her gender and whether she has a penis, and there is definitely a bigger issue throughout the sitcom with transphobia. Another would be the racial diversity in Friends that had always been a topic of contention. Considering how multicultural New York is, it's interesting that the 6 main characters all happen to be white, straight and middle class - and with the exception of Charlie aka Ross' paleontologist girlfriend, named black characters barely appear for more than three episodes in a row at a time. 

Early reviews of the series were mixed; and it holds a Metacritic score of 59 out of 100, based on 20 sampled reviews, indicating "mixed to average reviews." Tom Feran of The Plain Dealer wrote that the series traded "vaguely and less successfully on the hanging-out style of Seinfeld",while Ann Hodges of the Houston Chronicle called it "the new Seinfeld wannabe, but it will never be as funny as Seinfeld." In the Los Angeles Daily News, Ray Richmond named the series as "one of the brighter comedies of the new season", and the Los Angeles Times called it "flat-out the best comedy series of the new season."

But despite those kinds of setbacks the show truly won our hearts with their talented portrayal of their characters and with the relatable and random scenarios in life. And what makes it so lovable is that there really was a connection and a bond between the cast. The writers were also very good and their story lines were very unpredictable. The characters also showed versatility towards the complex situation given by the writer and what’s great is that they had fun and left a piece of them in their characters and how they stick to each one’s individuality. 

Rachel Green’s character (Jennifer Aniston) is a naive runaway bride who reunites with her childhood best friend Monica and relocates to New York City, Rachel gradually evolves from a spoiled, inexperienced "daddy's girl" into a successful businesswoman. During the show's second season, the character becomes romantically involved with her friend Ross, with whom she maintains a complicated on-again, off-again relationship throughout the entire series. Together, the characters have a daughter named Emma.

Monica Geller’s character (Anne Cox) is a chef known for her cleanliness, competitiveness and obsessive-compulsive nature, Monica is the younger sister of Ross and best friend of Rachel, the latter of whom she invites to live with her after Rachel forsakes her own wedding. The two characters spend several years living together as roommates until Monica begins a romantic relationship with long-time neighbor and friend Chandler, whom she marries. Unable to conceive children on their own, the couple eventually adopts twins and moves out of their apartment into a larger house in the suburbs.

Phoebe Buffay’s character (Lisa Kudrow)  is a masseuse and musician, notable for her offbeat and sometimes ditzy behavior. She was Monica's roommate before Rachel. She plays guitar and sings at Central Perk. During the show's ninth season, Phoebe is introduced to Mike Hannigan, played by actor Paul Rudd, by Joey, and the two begin a romantic relationship. The two later get engaged, then married. She is the daughter of Frank Buffay and Lily Buffay and her birth-mother's name was Phoebe Abbott. She has a twin sister named Ursula Buffay. She can speak several languages like French and Italian.

Joey Tribbiani”s character (Matt LeBlanc) is portrayed as promiscuous, and dim-witted, but good-natured, as well as very loyal, caring, and protective of his friends. He's a food-loving womanizer who has had more luck with dates than any of the other group members. In contrast to his "ladies man" personality, he has also a marked childish side. He enjoys playing video games and foosball. He loves sandwiches and pizza. He is a big fan of Baywatch. As a struggling actor, he is constantly looking for work. He was ordained as a minister in "The One with the Truth About London", and officiated at both Monica and Chandler and Phoebe and Mike's weddings. He does not like sharing food and has difficulty with simple mathematics.

Ross Geller’s character (David Schwimmer) is a paleontologist and has a Ph.D. from Columbia University. He is known to refer to himself as "Dr. Ross Geller." An ongoing theme of his narrative arc is his romantic feelings toward Rachel Green, an infatuation that began in high school. A theme of Friends is their on-again, off-again romantic relationship. His character is considered by many to be the most intelligent member of the group and is noted for his goofy, pathetic but lovable demeanor. He is a compulsive liar to avoid arguments or situations with conflict, often leading to an arcing story line within a show. His relationship with Rachel Green was included in TV Guide's list of the best TV couples of all time, as well as Entertainment Weekly's "30 Best 'Will They/Won't They?' TV Couples".

Chandler Bing’s character (Matthew Perry) works as an IT procurements manager with the specialization "Statistical analysis and data reconfiguration," but loathes it. In Season 9, he quits his job and Monica helps him secure a job in advertising through an old colleague friend of hers.Chandler is Ross Geller's roommate in college. Chandler met his friend Rachel Green while celebrating Thanksgiving with the Geller family during his first year at college. On a tip from Monica, Chandler later moved to Apartment #4 in Greenwich Village, Manhattan, across the hall from Monica and her roommate Phoebe Buffay. Actor Joey Tribbiani moves in with Chandler, who becomes his best friend. Chandler has a very good sense of humor, and is notoriously sarcastic. He is the highest earning member of his friends circle on account of responsible income management, having learned the value of money from a young age. He suffers from commitment issues, but later marries Monica. He is afraid of dogs.

Their individuality and great personalities had really captured our hearts with every episode. I had never known a cast that had been so well fitted for each other than the cast of FRIENDS. They all just mix and complement well with each other. The beloved show has been greatly accepted and admired by over 2 generations already and it will continue to be loved by the generations to come. They had won over several awards both for the show and for the characters individually in which they have been given the chance to earn over 22 MILLION per season! They became so wildly popular and everyone just adored them and I AM ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE. 

After 10 seasons of laughter, some tears, and some more laughter, "Friends" still remains one of the best shows to ever air on television. It has been nominated over 60 times for an Emmy, and won six. We could all agree that the reason behind their success was the connection and relationship these individuals have and their commitment to their work and how much they love portraying the roles. We could all see their essence through their characters and how passionate they are with their acting. And what makes this show believable is that they show their differences and still work things out. I don’t see them acting to be honest, what I want to believe is that they really are the characters because most of the time, everything they do seems so natural and life-like that it seems impossible for me to believe that they are just pretending. From the Chemistry to the relatable issues. They all just seem to be real to me. 

Their presence and the whole show makes us want to be part of their gang. No matter the difficulty or complex their situations are, they’re still together and moving forward. And as I watch their last episode, I was in tears for I felt like I was saying goodbye to my FRIENDS. I felt like I grew up with them and that connection will forever remain and be shared with others towards the years to come. The show may have ended years ago, but it’s spirit lives on. And I wanted to share this post for others to know how amazing I think they are, and how billions of people have been touched by this adorable group of friends who will always be in my heart drinking coffee while sitting down on that big old couch inside Central Perk. With their success and their downfalls, I will always say I am proud that they’re MY FRIENDS.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading my post and please do follow me on other social media sites to get more update from Definitely Zoey:

@martinzoeyyy (Twitter)

@definitely_zoey (Instagram)

Alyssa Martin (Youtube)

Till next time guys! I WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

#Friends #ForeverInMyHeart. #SquadGoals. #CentralPerk.

[suzyturnerbooks]

It’s that exciting time of the month again… when the Fab40s get to play dress up and wear an outfit created around a particular theme. This February, Daenel aptly chose the theme of ‘colour of love’.

When you think of the colour of love, what do you think of? My initial reaction was red, of course. Which is probably what most people think of. However, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to wear red this time. So I had a really good look inside my wardrobe and I even googled the ‘colour of love’ lol.

The colour of love according to google

As expected, red comes up as the colour of romantic love and passion. But green, on the other hand, came up as the global colour of love. I absolutely loved that (probably because green is my all-time favourite colour!). So I was very tempted to create another green outfit. But I’ve been wearing quite a lot of green lately so I ended up right back where I started; with red. LOL.

Surprisingly enough, my wardrobe doesn’t hold an awful lot of red. I’ve got a summery red dress that I’ve worn before for the Fab40s Superhero post so I didn’t want to repeat that. And I’ve got a red chunky sweater. Well, we’re still in winter (ish), so red sweater it was. Unfortunately, hubby doesn’t particularly like said red sweater though. So, I went shopping. Did I find anything? Anything at all? Nope. Nada. So, red sweater. Hm?

The sweater is a little long for the dress, so I added a red belt that I tucked the sweater into, which made it look much better.

My outfit

So here it is. A jumper I happen to love. I think it’s super cute and is a gorgeous shade of red, don’t you? I had thought of pairing it with a black skirt and biker boots. Then I thought perhaps a white skirt? Or white jeans? But in the end, I remembered I had the most beautiful red, gold and purple floral dress that would look great beneath the sweater. I haven’t worn the dress before because I’m saving it for a wedding later this year!

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

My fabulous black biker boots are a recent purchase from Timberland. I’ve actually had my eye on them for quite some time but I waited for the sales to start, and then I signed up to their newsletter in order to take advantage of an extra 10% discount. So, I actually got them for a really good price. I have a really old pair of Timberland boots that are like wearing slippers, they’re so comfortable. So I knew these boots would get just as much wear.

As for my accessories, I opted for big black butterfly earrings and a few rings that were all gifts from mother-in-law. And then I added a chunky black leather handbag from Marta Ponti (a Portuguese designer). All in all, I really love my ‘colour of love’ outfit. What do you think? Do you think it’s apt for the month of love? Speaking of love, I just had to share this… ❤

Now let’s see how the other Fab40s members styled this month’s colour of love theme…

Shelbee, Shelbee on the Edge

I love Shelbee’s description about why she chose this coloured outfit, she says she just loves loud and bold and colourful – with all sorts of crazy quirkiness. And this outfit certainly sums that up. Isn’t it fabulous? I adore the velvet dress, with that really quirky sleeve, the fun tights too! An all-round gorgeous look ❤

Outfit Details: 

Dress-c/o Zaful

Tights-Sock Dreams

Boots-Shoe Dazzle

Gloves-Isotoner

Beret-TJ Maxx

Necklace-Old

Earrings-c/o Happiness Boutique

Daenel, Living Outside the Stacks

As is quite often the case, Daenel and I are clearly feeling the same vibe this month, with a vibrant skirt that has red as it’s primary colour. She looks absolutely radiant in this outfit. It is the kind of look I would wear in a heartbeat. I really think Daenel and I are style soul sisters ❤

Dee, Dee Says

Dee looks incredibly beautiful in her navy blue and gold ensemble. It’s the kind of outfit that is perfect for a date night, wouldn’t you agree? I think the opulence of the gold trousers and heels look so good with that gorgeous blue blouse. Just beautiful, Dee!

Outfit Details Blue mesh Top: Bangkok, Platinum Mall

Gold Pants: Melange for Lifestyle Stores

Beige Sequin Pumps: Woodland 

Antique Gold Clutch: Rajouri Garden Market

Earrings: Flea Market, Delhi

Sheela, Sheela Goh

Sheela has chosen to wear white and looks like a goddess. Here’s why she chose to wear white: “The white symbolises purity. Love that strives to stay as untouched by the troubles of the world as possible, to rise above obstacles all relationships encounter. And the red? A spot of passion. A spot of va va vroom because no matter our orientations, we all need that spark to make the heart skip just a beat. Breath catch a smidge. A slight curve to the lips when reminiscing upon a particular memory. Moment.”

O.M.G…. I just LOVE that she chose pure love. I want to post a little white heart emoji!

Outfit Details: Shift tunic and overdress with train, both thrifted as are my sunnies. 

And me…

Have a fabulous week, my gorgeous friends! ❤ ❤ ❤

WHERE I LINK UP

Fake Fabulous

Ageless Style

Not Dressed as Lamb

Shelbee on the Edge

Style Splash

Living on Cloud Nine

A Pocketful of Polka Dots

Nancy’s Fashion Style

Chic & Stylish (Mumma B Stylish)

Elegantly Dressed & Stylish

Top of the World

Elegance & Mommyhood

Confident Twosday

WOW on Wednesday

Glamadventure

Fab40s: The colour of love It's that exciting time of the month again... when the Fab40s get to play dress up and wear an outfit created around a particular theme.

[theconservativebrief]

For the latest episode of my podcast, I Think You’re Interesting, I wanted to commemorate the end of another TV season (the 2017-’18 TV season ended May 31, though several shows launched during it will continue into the summer) by having some of my favorite showrunners on to talk about the state of the industry.

It was one of those great conversations where I could just sit back and listen as smart people whose work I love bounced ideas around and asked each other questions and built on each other’s thoughts. The whole conversation is worth listening to, but I especially wanted to highlight what happened when I asked the group why they thought TV had gotten slightly better at telling stories about groups traditionally underrepresented in fiction, while movies had gotten so much worse.

It was a good group to ask that question.

Aline Brosh McKenna is a showrunner on the CW’s Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, a musical comedy that deconstructs romantic comedy tropes and shows how they don’t paint women as full people, while also destigmatizing mental illness, something TV has never been comfortable talking about. (She’s also the writer of several movies, including the fantastic Devil Wears Prada.)

Tanya Saracho is the showrunner of Starz’s Vida, a heartfelt, soulful half-hour drama about two Mexican-American sisters reconnecting after their mother’s death. The series also tackles themes of queerness and gentrification.

And Salim Akil, as the showrunner of The CW’s Black Lightning, has turned a superhero show into an examination of black masculinity and issues affecting black communities, while not skimping on the cool superhero fights.

So I didn’t have to say much. Indeed, the three talked for much longer on this topic after the segment I’ve excerpted here, which has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

Aline Brosh McKenna. Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images for March of Dimes

Aline Brosh McKenna

You don’t have to make money in the more traditional manner. Television used to be really, really run by bean counters, and it was incredibly dictated by numbers. It’s really because of cable and streaming have redefined what a successful show is financially. We were the lowest-rated show on network television for a couple years. Now I think we’re maybe third from the bottom? [Laughs.] But we offer other things to the network. Strictly ratings, we wouldn’t have made it 10 years ago.

And networks really treat shows that have a more niche appeal completely differently. That’s why they’re making stuff that is across the board speaking to different types of audiences. And movies have gone the other way. They’ve gotten bigger, bigger, wider, wider.

We’re lucky that you can address different kinds of audiences and take certain artistic risks and that has paid off for networks. Other networks have seen that work. It’s still in progress, but I think you can see a lot more voices represented at the moment.

Tanya Saracho

There are a lot more. I’m myopic about how I look at this — just Latinx, you know?

We consume, if you look at the numbers, more especially movies than almost any demographic, especially young Latinas. There has not been a movie about a young, millennial Latina ever in the past decades. I still don’t understand, and I’m trying to figure out why we’ve been so invisible and why we continue to be.

In TV, it’s better because we’ve popped up, especially in front of the screen but behind the screen; out of 520 shows, we have now five, with mine, of a Latinx perspective, a Latinx gaze. But we make up almost 20 percent of this country. I don’t understand why we haven’t caught up or why they haven’t seen our value.

Aline Brosh McKenna

It’s the same reason that things are male-centered. They believe that women will go see things with a male protagonist.

Tanya Saracho

And we do, yeah.

Aline Brosh McKenna

They think the protagonist bias only goes that direction.

Tanya Saracho

But it becomes an erasure of a people in a way. We’re not counted. Our narratives are not up there. We still have these old ’90s immigrant narratives that are so different and complicated now. We’re still going back by Mi Familia and by Selena and by La Bamba. It’s crazy that those were the last big [movies].

I know in TV it’s better, but I think we still have a long way to go. If you look at those numbers, it’s like, why? Why are we not valued, our narratives? I’m still in that space.

Of course, Starz has been amazing to us. I do think because my executive is Marta Fernandez, and she’s Hispanic, and that matters, because you have to have someone in the castle to keep the door open. But if I look at the landscape, it’s really bleak.

Salim Akil. Paras Griffin/Getty Images for SCAD aTVfest 2018

Salim Akil

Honestly, I think it’s getting better because you’re hearing more authentic voices. Black folk are writing and running shows about black folk. Before, I would look at television and I would say, “Oh, yeah, a white man wrote that. It doesn’t seem like anything a black person would do or say.” It was always some guy with tennis shoes on running from the police in a short jacket, and his name was Willie Earl.

When you have other people writing and [turns to Tanya] you said gaze — gazing for you, then they gaze from their point of view. It’s the gaze that usually makes them feel comfortable. I think what is happening now is that women and so-called minorities are writing things for themselves and their people, and so it gets better and better, and people become more and more interested.

I’m not really interested in the concept of what percentage of black folk are watching television in the United States, because we’re in a global economy now. So these images and these stories aren’t just being shown in America. They’re being shown on phones and TVs around the world. I was in South Africa, and Girlfriends and Being Mary Jane were on television, and people were watching them on their phones. And I guarantee you Starz isn’t just making your show to show in the United States.

I think that when you look at how we are disseminating these images and these stories, it becomes less about what’s going on in the ratings and less about what’s going on in the United States. We’re in a global economy now.

I think the reason you’re still having that conversation about an erasing of people is because there’s still the majority white men running these companies, and until there’s more inclusion in the higher ranks, where you don’t just have that one “blackspert,” the woman or the man who’s really working for corporate America and has no interest in fighting for you.

Once we start to replace those type of people with people who really do have an interest in not only making money but in telling stories about human beings, I think it will get better and better and better. But as long as we have the majority white men running companies, it’ll be a struggle.

But it’s a struggle I think worth having. When you look at African Americans, I always say we’re basically one generation up out of Jim Crow, and the things that we’ve managed to accomplish as a people on television and in politics speaks to the idea of struggle.

Tanya Saracho. Earl Gibson III/Getty Images

Tanya Saracho

So if perception is filtered through American television because we’re selling it around the world, we haven’t gotten that many shots to do it.

Aline Brosh McKenna

Well, also, they’re weirdly immune to actual data, because if you look at Wonder Woman or you look at Girls Trip, or you look at whatever, it’s still seen as an outlier. People still don’t identify, and it’s because we need to wick people into the system more from a creator’s standpoint but also from an executive’s standpoint. After a certain level, it really becomes a homogeneous group of people. So people can rise to a certain level, but in order to get kicked those four or five levels upstairs that you need to be to be a real decision-maker, there is no diversity there.

One of the things that I’m very concerned about is getting the best and the brightest to come here [to Hollywood] and stay, because the entry-level jobs don’t pay anything, and if you’re a smart kid and you’re from a different kind of community and you graduated from a good college and you can go get a consulting job and make a good living, why would you come here? So the only people who are coming here are the people who can get checks from their parents to help them survive.

We’re creating a lot of barriers to entry for creators, which is why you have to go grab people and pull them in and help them. You can’t wait for people to apply and show up. So there needs to be way more people as writers assistants and staff writers who are going to have that idea. We still have a lot of invisible barriers to entry just to get people to get into those jobs.

For so much more with all three, including a look at how they define success in an era when ratings mean less and less, listen to the full episode. And you can watch Vida on the Starz streaming app, and both Black Lightning and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend on Netflix.

To hear more interviews with fascinating people from the world of arts and culture — from powerful showrunners to web series creators to documentary filmmakers — check out the I Think You’re Interesting archives.

Original Source -> Why making Hollywood more diverse requires far more than shaking up who’s onscreen

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

[anavoliselenu]

Beautiful lies chapter 20

"I sure do." She smiles and pulls me from the kitchen.

Chapter Ten

Selena

"This is so freaking weird," I say, turning to Becca.

"What is?" she replies, adjusting the ties of her bikini top.

"Dad is over there talking to Justin." The man who purchased me at a sex auction, I mentally add.

"So?"

Becca and I both turn and gaze across the pool to where Justin and our father are standing under the shade of the cedar gazebo, sipping cocktails and talking casually.

"It's just weird," I admonish.

She shrugs at my discomfort. "We're big girls, Selena. Dad doesn't care if you're sleeping with a millionaire. Shit, he's probably proud. I know I am." She grins at me.

I roll my eyes, thankful for the cover of my sunglasses. She's crazy. The anxiety I felt planning this party was mostly over how my dad and Justin would get along. I've never introduced my parents to a man before. Especially not one who's seven years older, runs a company, and has his own mansion in Malibu. It's little nerve wracking.

My mom has made herself busy helping out in the kitchen, clearly uncomfortable letting the hired help wait on us hand and foot, even though Justin and I both told her numerous times to enjoy and relax. I don’t think my mother knows how to relax. It's something I'm just now learning how to do myself.

The day is pretty perfect though. The sun is shining brightly overhead. The temperature is perfect. Soft reggae music hums lazily in the background through the outdoor speakers and the bar is stocked with tropical drinks and icy bottles of beer. No one's in the pool yet, but brightly colored balls bob on the surface of the water enticingly. After much more laying out, I'm sure I'll be ready to take a dip myself.   

Collins and Pace are seated at the bar, each with a drink in hand. It's early still and Beth, Justin's personal chef, has everything prepped for a barbecue later. Which makes me even more curious about what my mother could be helping with inside. She's probably driving Beth insane.

I take another sip of my mango daiquiri and try to relax.

Marta comes strolling through the patio doors like she's working a runway catwalk. For some reason the sight of her in her little red string-bikini makes my stomach knot. I hate that she and Justin had a fling – no matter how brief.

"Who the hell's that?" Becca asks, lowering her shades.

"Marta. She works for Justin as his personal assistant."

"She's gorgeous," Becca says.

Apparently Marta didn’t quite get the casual pool party theme, her makeup is expertly done and she's styled her hair in perfect waves that fall down her shoulders and back. My own hair is tossed into a messy ponytail and the only thing decorating my skin is a thick layer of greasy sunscreen. I feel the need to march upstairs, add mascara and lipstick and change into my pushup bra-bikini top. Instead I chug down the remainder of my drink.

"Refill?" Becca asks, chuckling at me.

"Yes, please."

Becca waltzes over to the bar, introduces herself to Marta and makes brief small talk with Pace and Collins, refills each of our daiquiri glasses, then stops to talk to Dad and Justin.

She finally returns with our semi-melted drinks in hand.  "What was all that about?" I ask, accepting the drink and slurping down an icy mouthful.

"Okay, first off. Justin's brothers are hot as shit."

I nod. Duh.

"I still think Pace and I could have had fun in Italy…" she says to no one in particular. "Second, don’t worry about Dad and Justin. They're talking about Justin's charity work in Africa and Dad is practically drooling, hanging on his every word. I'm pretty sure Dad's got a mancrush on your boyfriend."

"Thanks, Becs." I wondered what she was doing. Then again, spying for me was practically in the twin handbook.

"Third, Marta is nobody you need to be concerned with. Her tits are obviously fake and seriously, who wears heels to a pool party?"

I hadn't noticed her footwear, but Becca's right, her sandals have a four-inch heel. Son of a…

"She's trying too hard, Selena," Becca continues. "You're naturally beautiful and men prefer that over fake any day. Trust me."

I release a heavy sigh. I know she's right. Justin doesn’t look at Marta the way he does at me. "She and Justin had a fling," I admit to Becca. "When he first separated from his ex-wife. I'm pretty sure she's not only seen my man's package, but she's had the pleasure of being on her knees before him, taking him deep into her throat."

"What a royal bitch."

I laugh, loving Becca's instant hatred for Marta.

"Seriously, sis, are you good with her working for him, given their past? If not, you should talk to him." The frown that tugs down her mouth is familiar to me. It's the same one I see whenever I look into the mirror.

"He had a talk with her. Told her that if she caused any problems between us, she'd be fired."

"Yes, but when she shows up here looking like that, something tells me you should have your own little talk with her. A nicely phrased, back up off my man, bitch, ought to do the trick."

"You think?" I'd never imagined saying anything to Marta directly, but now that Becca is suggesting it, the idea fills me with both anxiety and a strange tinge of excitement. I've never laid claim to a man before.

I suck down the rest of my drink until the straw makes a loud slurping noise against the bottom of the cup. "Hold this." I hand it to Becca. Without giving myself the opportunity to chicken out, I rise from the chair and strut over to where Marta is talking to Pace and Collins beside the bar.

"Can I have a word, Marta?"

"Sure." She smiles at me sweetly and sets down her glass of white wine.

I lead her to the nearby set of cushioned chairs out of earshot of anyone else.

"So how is the redecorating going in the pool house?" I ask.

Shit. I can feel myself chickening out. This is made all the more awkward by the fact that she and I are kind of friends. She's been kind to me. She's taken me shopping and stayed with me when Justin was out of town on business. Of course, it occurs to me that all that friendship stuff could have been an act to get closer to Justin by befriending me. It's just not in my nature to be mean and it turns out I don't have the first clue about how to start.

"It's on track. I emailed Justin a link to a set of designs that I like for the space, but ultimately it's up to him."

I'm left tongue-tied and unsure of what to say next. I think we both know I didn’t pull her away from the fun to have a private conversation about the new drapes for the seldom used pool house.

"Is everything okay, Selena?"

"No. Actually it's not." I clear my throat, wishing I'd downed a third daiquiri before attempting this awkward conversation. "Justin told me about your past with him."

"Oh." She looks down at the stone patio between her pedicured feet.

"And while he assured me that he doesn’t have any interest in you, I needed to hear you say the same thing." I pause, watching her eyes and focus on breathing calmly. She doesn’t need to know that my heart is beating like a drum.

"At one time, I liked Justin. He's a smart, charming man. What woman wouldn’t fall for him? But over the years, I've accepted that he doesn’t view me that way, Selena. I can promise you I'm over it."

I nod, still watching her, and unsure of what to say next. Geez, this is awkward. I should have made Becca come over here and have this conversation. Too bad we weren't really identical and couldn’t pass for each other because otherwise, I totally would have.

Marta leans closer. "Listen, the truth is, I know I can't compete with you. You're a gorgeous girl. And Justin loves you. If he hasn't told you yet, I'm sure he will, because I can see it whenever he looks at you…"

"He's told me," I admit.

"Oh. Well, like I said, I'm not surprised." She takes a minute, looking down at her polished toes again, before meeting my eyes. "I hope my working for him doesn’t bother you. If it does, I understand, but I love my job, and…"

I hold up a hand, stopping her. "It doesn’t bother me. I trust Justin. I just needed you to know he's mine now."

"I know," she says quietly. "I know."

I straighten my shoulders, my confidence rising. "Good. I am glad we had this chat. I'm fine with you continuing to work for him, but just know that I won’t tolerate you flirting with what is mine."

"I got it, Selena," she says, her chin tipped down, as if some of her poise has disappeared.

I walk away from our conversation feeling slightly odd and a little sad. When I relay the specifics to Becca after sinking back down into my lounge chair, she waves me off.

"Do not feel bad. Listen, Marta is flipping gorgeous. She's a ten. She will have no problem finding a man now that she knows it's time to let Justin go. You did the right thing talking to her. Now everything's out in the open and there are no secrets. Plus now that you're dating a man as utterly attractive as Justin, you better get used to beating the girls off him. That was a good warm up."

I nod in agreement. "Okay, good point." How my sister got so wise, I have no clue.

"I'm happy for you, Selena," she says. "Like really fucking ridiculously happy. No matter what happens, I want you to live every day to its fullest. Laugh. Sing in the shower. Dance naked. Have sex with your man in the kitchen. Have lots of babies."

I gaze over at her, my stomach suddenly tightening into a knot. "What are you talking about? Why are you saying all this?"

She shrugs. "We just never know how much time we have left, that's all."

This conversation in the bright sunlight with Bob Marley singing Everything's Gonna Be Alright in the background feels totally wrong and out of place. I hate it.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "You're healthy, right?"

She nods. "All I'm saying is that if cancer's taught me anything, it's to live every day like it's your last."

"Jeez. Don't scare me like that, Becca. We both have plenty of time for babies and everything."

"Of course. It's just that you've been focused on me for so long, now that I'm healthy it's time for you to focus on you."

"I've never minded a single second of being there for you. I would do anything for you."

"I know that. I just don't want you to have to sacrifice anymore." She smiles weakly.

I hate that she's right. I'm ashamed to admit that there've been times in my life that I resented her. Prom our senior year of high school was the perfect example. I had bought the most beautiful long silver strapless dress and was supposed to go with the captain of our high school's basketball team, Johnny Knight. Instead Becca took a turn for the worse and our entire family flew to Houston for an emergency surgery. I feel so selfish for even thinking it. I finally threw that silver dress away last year. The tags were still on it. And the guilt didn’t end there. Now I felt bad that I hadn't donated it, but in a fit of anger, I'd stuffed it into the trash can instead.

"It's just that you've lived in the shadow of me and my illness for so long. This is your time now and I don't want anything to get in the way of that."

"When's your next doctor's visit?" I ask, changing the topic away from my own love life.

"I go in on Monday. But I'm feeling fine." She notices my now sour mood and her smile turns into a frown. "Hey, I'm sorry to get so heavy on you. I just want to know that no matter what happens, you're going to be okay."

"Of course I am." My life is coming together and Becca is finally getting well. We all have a lot to look forward to.

I lay staring straight up at the sun. Our conversation has left me slightly on edge. Actually the entire day has. Between my parents meeting Justin for the first time, my conversation with Marta and now this strange discussion with Becca…I've lost my zen sense of calm. Poof. It's gone.

My gaze strays to Justin and I see that he's watching me from across the pool. He's holding his cell phone in his hand and glances at my beach tote beside my chair and then back at me again. I fish my own cell phone from the bag, wondering if that's what he's signaling me to do.

As soon as I pull my phone out, I see a text from him.

You look stressed out.

I gaze up at him, wondering how he can read me so well, how he can possibly be so tuned in to me when he's entertaining guests. I love him even more in that moment. I type out my reply.

I'm not. Not really.

You're lying.

I glance up at him and smile. I love that he knows me so well.

I'm fine. I promise. ;)

I keep my eyes on the screen, waiting for his reply to come, but when it doesn’t I look up at him again. He's standing across the pool and I'm struck by the beauty of our idyllic surrounding. There is nothing but blue sky overhead, and the brilliant sun shining down on him makes him look like a bronzed statute of a Greek god. His bare chest and mansion of a home rising up behind him, with only the expanse of sparkling blue water separating us remind me how lucky I am.

Finally he texts me back.

Well I'm not.

What's wrong?

I want to fuck you.

;)

"I'm gonna go for a swim," Becca says.

Shit, I'm so wrapped up in my naughty text conversation with Justin that I'd forgotten she was beside me. "Okay. Have fun." I watch as she saunters away toward the pool, and see Pace looking longingly after her, but not making a move. I briefly wonder if Justin's warned him to stay away from her.

Once Becca's in the water, I glance back down at my phone.

My cock misses you. I told him we'd have you later, but he's pretty fucking adamant it needs to be now.

Now? As in NOW?

Is he insane? We can't possibly. Just as my head is spinning, my phone chimes in my hand.

Yes.

I glance up at him and watch him type out another message.

Meet me in the pool house.

My nipples harden against my bikini top and my heart trips over itself in its fight to pick up speed. Without waiting for me to respond, Justin tucks his phone into the pocket of his board shorts. He says something to my father, who nods once, and then he strolls casually toward the pool house.

My own walk to the pool house is not so casual. I feel as guilty as a criminal on death row, certain that everyone is watching me and knows exactly what I'm headed off to do. My cheeks are already flaming bright red and my breathing is coming too fast. Apparently I suck at secret sex rendezvous.

When I reach the door to the pool house – that to any normal person would be a generously sized home – Justin is standing at the door waiting for me with an expectant smile.

"You came."

"Did you really think I'd turn you down?" I ask.

"No."

Taking my hand, he pulls me inside and shuts and locks the door behind us. The three bedroom – two bath home is under construction. The wallpaper has been stripped from the walls and there are tarps covering the floors. Dust and random tools are scattered about.

All the silly little things I was worried about earlier fade away as I focus entirely on my man and this beautiful moment.

Taking my wrists in his hands, he brings each to his mouth, kissing the underside of each one. His smirk tells me he can feel the way my pulse is rioting at his touch. He guides me into the kitchen and stops us beside the stone counter top.

"Hands on the counter," he whispers low near my ear, his lips tickling the sensitive skin at my neck.

I swallow and comply, turning around placing my palms flat on the counter.

He moves behind me and I feel him slowly untie the string at my back. His hands move under the cups of my bikini top and he massages my breasts, plucking my hard nipples until I gasp out at the sensation.

Sweeping my ponytail out of the way, he tugs at the string behind my neck and removes my top completely, setting it onto the counter beside my outstretched hands. He kisses all along the back of my neck and my spine while his hands continuing rubbing my breasts and nipples. I push my ass back against him and am greeted by his thick erection, that I'm sure is barely contained by his board shorts. He releases a sharp grunt.

Justin's hands skim down my sides and push into the back of my bikini bottoms. He cups my ass, kneading it in his hands and then continues pushing my bottoms down until they pool around my ankles.

"Spread your legs," he breathes against my ear.

I tremble all over, but widen my stance, readying my body for him.

I hear him unlace his swim shorts, the crinkle of fabric is the most delicious sound, as he pushes them down his hips.

"I'm going to feed you my cock. One inch at a time. Stay nice and quiet, okay?"

I nod and feel him begin to rub the head of his cock against me, testing my wetness.

Justin presses forward, just the broad tip of him entering me. I whimper and turn my bottom up, needing to feel him push deeper.

He retreats back. "You have to stay quiet, sweetness. We wouldn’t want anyone to know I was fucking you in here, would we?"

I nod again. "I'll be quiet. I promise." Just keep fucking me.

One hand remains anchored to my hip and the other comes around to my front. He reaches between my legs and uses his fingers to rub my slick clit in tiny circles.

Pleasure rocks through me as an unexpected orgasm slams into me. I pump my hips back into his, taking him deeper with each thrust.

"Justin…" I moan, unable to keep quiet.

He stuffs my bikini top into my mouth, muffling my cries of pleasure. "Shh…" he reminds me, "I want to make you come again."

I whimper softly, biting down on the fabric that smells faintly of chlorine and sweat.

Taking both of my hips into his hands, he pulls me back against him each time he thrusts forward, slamming into me, making me cry out. "You look so fucking hot, baby. I want to fuck your ass so bad."

He presses one finger inside my ass and the sensation–while completely foreign–is like nothing else. Pleasure grips me from the inside out. It's fucking hot. His finger presses deeper and he releases a strangled groan.

"So. Fucking. Sexy," he growls.

His cock swells and I know he's close.

"I'm going to come all over your ass."

He continues pumping into me while dragging his finger in and out of my backside and soon I feel my insides trembling.

My climax bursts through me and my muffled screams fill the quiet room. Justin wraps one hand around my mouth and slams into me again and again, milking every last ounce of pleasure from my body.

Then he pulls his cock free and I feel warm semen spurting onto my ass and lower back as he empties himself, marking my skin.

Holy shit that was hot.

He plants a damp kiss to the back of my neck, and then bends down and slides my bikini bottoms back up my legs. I'm all wet and messy from both of our climaxes, but the house has been cleaned out–there's no paper towels or running water even.

"Justin?" I ask, wondering how I'm going to clean myself up.

"You can use the outdoor shower." His easy smile and eyes, bright with desire, challenges me.

I don't know what game he's playing, but if I go outside like this, there's a chance people could see me. Yet there's no way I'm backing down. I'm feeling spunky and full of life after our mid-day sexual adventure.

"Not a problem, Mr. Justin." I smile sweetly and his mouth drops open.

I saunter out into the sunlight with him following closely behind me, hoping that none of our guests notice the semen marking my lower back and thighs.

Chapter Eleven

Justin

She pulls the chain above her, water cascading down from the rainfall shower head, drenching her from head to toe.

I get half-hard again watching her. Streams of water run down her body and her nipples harden from the cool water. I have to force myself to look away to try and tame my erection. I've hit it off with her parents nicely and I wouldn’t want to undo all my good first impressions by getting an awkward boner while I ogle their daughter.

p: break-word;ko�$�.