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suck-too-hard-on-your-jaskier · 4 years

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I wrote some soft Geraskier things that make my heart happy 💕

(I have been nicely told off that it is not shitty writing, juries still out on that. Anyway changed the title so now it's just all soft Geraskier)

(can they be called drabbles when they're really small?)

Jaskier enjoys carefully brushing Geralts hair until it's no longer an unruly mess. It's not that he cares about what other people think; it's because he loves how relaxed the man becomes, that his hair frames his face in the most beautiful way. Running his fingers through the fine strands and rubbing circles into Geralts scalp, once he's done. Repeating the process until he has a content and almost purring Witcher in his lap. When Geralt isn't hunting the monster of the week, Jaskier enjoys pampering him because he deserves it.

The bed sharing! Geralt curled around Jaskier protectively in the single bed they'd managed to pay for. One arm curled around the bard and his fingers sliding under the bards night shirt. Jaskier completely comfortable and blissed out at having Geralt pressed against his back. Geralt lazily placing kisses across his bards shoulder. Mapping his way up Jaskiers throat with his lips. Ghosting them over the younger man's ear as he lowers his voice, "I love you my little lark" The words reverberate through Jaskier making him feel warm and completely loved.

Jaskier softly singing lullabys whilst carding his fingers through Geralts hair. Continuing even after he hears his witchers breaths even out. Tracing his thumb over the other man's cheek which causes the constant wrinkle in his brow to slowly fade away. Until he sees Geralts face go slack with sleep. His song becoming a gentle hum in Geralts subconcious. Even then the witcher somehow can feel the gentle press of his bards lips against his own, followed by a whispered "Sleep well my white wolf".

It's his eyes. That's one of the many things that Geralt loves about Jaskier. The way they light up when he takes an interest in the songs his bard writes. Or the way the corners of the bards eyes crinkle as he makes the usually stoic witcher flustered. He may not be able to wax poetic as well as Jaskier, but the way the man's eyes go all soft around the edges when his bard is singing to him; it makes his heart beat just a little faster than its normally slow and steady pace.

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somefantasticplace · 3 years

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THE MIRROR INTERVIEW

Bob Mortimer, the shorter half of Reeves & Mortimer, has made a fortune out of being daft. He and Jim Moir, Vic Reeves' alter ego, have become famous for making clever and surrealist comedy that looks very similar to two blokes whacking each other with frying pans, farting and wearing inside-out footballs on their heads. They have been labelled childish, silly and rude and stand guilty as charged. But even Bob was shocked when he realised his comic genius was too immature for his four year old son, Harry.

"The only bit of Reeves & Mortimer my son has ever seen is us hitting each other with frying pans," Bob says with a sigh. "He got really upset. He said, 'Why is he hitting you daddy?' I said "Well, its just being funny." Harry looked at him with disdain. 'Hitting people is not funny,' he told his dad.

"The funny thing is that me and Jim have never had an argument, ever," Bob says. "We spend half the time on TV smacking each other and arguing. But we've never had a real argument."

The pots and pans are polystyrene and most of the props are balsa wood, but he and Vic still injure each other. "When we did Big Night Out we were terrible," he says of their first TV venture. "We're rubbish at pretend punching and hitting and there were no retakes so we just had to punch each other." He winces at the memory. "In one bit, Jim had to rip off half the lid of the desk and smack me on the head with it. One half was balsa wood and the other was proper wood. He picked up the wring half!" Bob mimes being attacked by a heavy wooden desk. "It looked fantastic on telly," he adds proudly. "There's stuff coming out of my nose..."

Harry, you reflect, wouldn't be very impressed. But then Bob knows keeping millions of TV viewers amused is child's play compared to entertaining his kids. When he's not filming, he's a full-time dad. "It's shattering," he admits, rubbing tired, pinprick eyes. "My kids are three and four and in the mornings it gets to 11am and I think 'I've been entertaining the kids for five hours already." The comic never knew his own father, who died when he was six. "My father's death was probably the defining moment of my life. Which is strange in a way because I don't remember him. The only thing I can remember is him walking out of a door." He looks sad when he says this. "When me dad died he was a salesman, selling Fox's biscuits."

He was insistent about the type - crumble crunch - and the brand, Fox's. It seemed eccentric but it suddenly makes sense. He's maintaining a link to the father he can't remember.

"I don't know if he would be proud of what I do," Bob continues. "He might disapprove - I never knew him to know what he liked." "I don't want to be dull about it. I don't miss him because I don't remember him, but I do sort of know that his death made me the person I am."

What sort of person is he? "I'm a compulsive helper - that's probably what a shrink would diagnose. I always want to help." "I tried to be strong for me mam when my dad died. It was selfish, I suppose, because I knew that if I lost my mam I'd have nothing. That's what I'm like. I try to be nice to people so they'll need me, so they don't f*** off".

In all the years since he was 12, 41 year old Bob has never been out of a relationship. "I've been with my girlfriend, Lisa, 10 years now," he says.

Comedy may be the new rock and roll, but Bob's a domestic animal. Even his face is sleepy and cat-like. "Even before we had kids, we weren't exactly wild," he says. "Most of our time was spent sitting on the settee watching the box, going to Ikea, getting up late on Saturdays..."

His mum was a cookery teacher and spent the war "at the Ministry of Food showing people what to do with powdered eggs." Her son makes a fine ox-tongue, he says. "I can do all those tricky things. I can do all the jams - and I love my vegetable patch. The first time you actually plant something and it grows is magic."

Seeing Bob on the TV, zipping about like a hyperactive kid on high E numbers, it's hard to picture him making jam and tending to cabbages. But it's even harder to imagine that he was once a grey-suited solicitor, the sort of bloke that no one noticed. "They must be gobsmacked if they've seen me on telly," he says of his former colleagues at Southwark Council's legal centre. "Nobody noticed me there at all."

One night, on the way to the pub after work, a man suddenly came up behind him and held a knife to his throat. "It happened dead fast," recalls Bob. "I thought, 'I'm being mugged!' but all of a sudden he put his knife back in his pocket and said 'Oh hello Mr Mortimer, I didn't know it was you.' "It was one of my regular clients. I'd represented him in court about 15 times. He was a professional mugger."

Apart from the near mugging, life carried on quietly and Bob might have continued being invisible, except for a chance meeting at a pub in South London... with a man performing a comedy act with a ladder and a lump of lard. Bob started heckling from the audience and Jim Moir invited him on stage. There was a clap of thunder somewhere in the comic heavens and Vic & Bob were born. From then on, every Thursday, he and Jim performed their irresistibly bizarre double act.

"When I first met Jim, Thursday nights were a bright spot in my life," Bob admits. "Working with Jim cracks me up and no one can make Jim laugh like I can."

Their pub act was spotted by Jonathan Ross's brother Adam and, on his recommendation, Michael Grade signed the pair up for Channel 4. In a hangover from those days, the duo always drank four weak pints of lager before performing a show. "We always drank," says Bob. "In the pub in New Cross we wouldn't be on until 11 O'clock, by which time we'd have had four pints. Now I'd be scared not to...

"People think we're mad because we need four pints of lager, under 3.4% proof. Four pints of strong lager and we'd be drunk. It's a fine line. You need to get that familiar feeling but it would be terrible if you were actually drunk," he laughs. "I have to admit that we were very drunk on Jonathan Ross's New Years Eve Special. I can't remember what we said. I don't even know if they showed it." When Vic and Bob were first on telly, Bob lived in a homeless shelter in South London. He'd left his native Middlesbrough to work at the council and had nowhere to live. The best the council could offer was the shelter and, as far as Bob could see, it had everything a young man could need - a roof, a bed and a decent pub nearby. He stayed there for five years.

"When we'd just become famous I used to think I'd love to be on Through the Keyhole," Bob says. He impersonates Lloyd's weird vowels and imagines him walking around the hostel: Whoo liiives heeere??"

He only left when the place went up in flames. "One of the nutters who lived there burnt it down one Easter," he says matter-of-factly. "I came back from me mam's at Easter and had nowhere to live. So I got a council flat instead." He scratches his chin. "You know, I wouldn't like to be one of those comedians straight from university," he says, thoughtfully. "I don't know how you get any perspective on it when life's always been as lovely as that. You haven't had a real life. How can you be happy?" Bob screws up his face and contemplates the present. He lives in a beautiful house Kent with Lisa and their two children. He and Vic are planning a new comedy series and have also been given lots of money for a film script which they keep forgetting to finish. A new series of Shooting Stars starts this month, with added sketches and the inspired choices of novelist Will Self and comedian Johnny Vegas to replace Mark Lamarr.

Comic quiz shows abound but Vic and Bob remain masters of their genre. Who else would have Debbie McGee abseil across the studio or have Michael Winner sniff out "dirty boys" using an elephants trunk? It is utterly, plainly, deliriously daft. But then, Reeves & Mortimer have made daft an art form.

"If you've nothing to compare it to it's not that much of a laugh in the end, being on the box," says Bob, seriously. "But I tell you something - it's absolute heaven compared to working with a council." The Mirror

Jan 2002

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whitetrashjj · 6 years

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hi!!! idk if you read tons of fanfics but if you do, what murven fic you've read is your favorite? or what can you recommend? thank you!! :)

oh honey, i’ve probably read about 90% of the murven fics on ao3, so you’ve come to the right place...

A Life as Beautiful by CallMeHux (Modern AU)

always my go to fic rec, if you’re a murven shipper who hasn’t read this, correct that. Friends with benifits. enemies to fuck buddies to friends to lovers. SINGLE DAD MURPHY! and the perfect mix of smut and domestic fluff..

You in the Red Dress by bellarke (Modern AU)

the other one that i always rec. raven is the presidents daughter, murphy is her new security guy. all that ‘im scared to love you’ shit, which i liiive for. i would read a 100k fic of this tbh. one of my fav fics of all time.

Crazy by Amethyzt (Modern AU)

They meet in hospital. Fall in love. Loots of angst. Also very cute. Incomplete (for now) but you won’t even care.

You’re Not Alone by Amethyzt (also) (canon divergence)

Set after season 2 (midseason maybe?), basically how they get past their history, becomes friends, and fall in love. SO FUCKING CUTE. I just love.. and about 30k words so it’s a nice read..

Issues by Amethyst (last one i promise) (canon divergance/ s5 spec)

S5 time jump au aka what should have happened aka what they aren’t telling us about what happened during the time jump... why do you think they have no spacekru flashbacks... cute. angsty. real. and very them.

Lovely Orbiting by Albabutter (zombie apocalypse au)

Farm living? Check. Bed sharing? Check. Adopting a puppy? Check. Making fun of Finn? Check. Zombies? Check. they were roommates? oh my god they were roommates. you want a zombie apocalypse murven au with surprisingly little zombies? well today is your lucky day...

My Church Offers No Absolutes by alienor_woods (canon divergence)

another s2/s2 midseason divergence, who, what, when, where and why? of them getting together. Makes sense, well written, cute and well just all around great.

+ the bellarke foursome follow up fic that goes with it: Two's a Party but Four's a Blast

because who doesn’t need that?

Mother Christmas v The Grinch by wakeupstiles (Modern AU)

i don’t know how to put into words why i love this so much.. it’s just so domestic, but real,, it’s not fluff. it just feel like a real couple. and just... idk, read it.

---

there is more but hopefully that enough to get you started... also there are some recent ones that I haven’t got around to reading yet,,

there is also a super cute one where raven is drunk and murphy is the doting boyfriend coming to pick her up.. but i’m pretty sure it was just posted on tumblr and i don’t have the energy to go look for it now, but it is more than likely on murvensource ..

#murven #fic recs #murven fic rec #murphys-raven #lara answers

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dominavontana · 7 years

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American #Dominatrix in #Tokyo

Something’s got to give…

Bub (my brother): Sis remember when 9/11 happened and you were in DC and Mom and Mike threatened to drive out from Montana and pack you up and move you back home?

Me: Yea…

Bub: Well not it’s about to be World War 3 and you’re headed right back into the middle of it again. What’s up with that?

Me: Well, Bro...war is part of life. And next time it happens it’s going to happen everywhere. So if it’s going to happen, this time when it happens, I want to be in a country with no guns, no opiod epademic and no race wars.

Bub: …

#Japan

Remember that story line in Friends, where Ross gets someone else pregnant. Rachel is really upset when she finds out because she told Ross they were just on a break. But Ross thinks they were broken up?

Yeah, well in that scenario I’m Rachel and my country and my family are Ross. They think I’ve left them for good. But really we’re just on a break. Yep I ex-pat’ed the fuck outta my life and country and loves. Now as long as the USA doesn’t knock somebody else up while I’m in Japan we should be okay.

Ten years ago was my last sabbatical. In the past ten years since that trip back home to Montana I have taken only one trip that wasn’t to see clients. That was last December when my Mom took me to Mexico. A country with a culture that is warm, heart-felt and full of humor. That trip definitely sparked something in me. Or more accurately it reignited something inside of me - a desire to experience life beyond the American borders.

My reasons for coming to Japan are many, not just one. And those reasons are layered. They run into one another. Was it my traumatic marriage to my slave who is still in treatment for addiction? Sure that was part of it. He’s doing better but I still needed to be somewhere he couldn’t get to me without my consent because it seems every time he’s done that in the past decade he manages to melt down my world in a matter of days and I have to start all over again.

Is it the ignorant and racist attitudes of my dearest loved family members that have come to light since the recent election? Yea, that’s definitely part of it too.

Is it my need for adventure? My desire to travel? My desperate want for a respite from the scene? The pro life? The impact of the drug epidemic on my personal life? The lack of a living wage? The fucking hateful rhetoric of my country at the moment? The free bed in a warm home waiting for me in Tokyo? Yes, yes and yes.

So that’s why I left. But why did I choose to go to Japan? Why not South America, or Europe where as one friend said, “They know how to enjoy life.” Because I’ve spent the past decade plus “enjoying” life. I’ve lived. I've liiived. If I wanted it, I’ve had it. If I want to do it, I’ve done it. My life has not been short on experience and my memory is full of moments that I will cherish forever. But there’s more to life than that…

And that is where my self identity and this Japanese culture intersect:

I value ritual. They have it in spades in this country.

I value manners. Respect is the name of the game in this country.

I love discipline. Yep they have that too.

I value kink. PLENTY of that here.

I value peace. As a survivor of multiple sexual assaults (all prior to becoming a pro and part of my vanilla life not my kink life) I can walk down the street here at 2 am more than a little tipsy and not have to look over my shoulder constantly or clutch my keys in fear or worry about what is hiding behind every shadow. You have no idea how valuable that is to a survivor of sexual assault and domestic abuse. Basically by making the choice to move myself halfway around the world I eliminated the vast majority of my triggers and for that reason I now spend my days in peace. Priceless.

I am healing. I am the adult child of an alcoholic who is finally getting on top of her issues. It's been a long, hard fought, barely begun to be won battle. But I am still standing. And at this point I feel I deserve some GD rewards for my efforts thus far. So I decided to put myself first and to go out and get them. I gave myself a pass. That pass came in the form of a plane ticket. A very expensive plane ticket. To a very different place, very far away from home. So. Be. It.

I am here, in Japan, to heal. I am also here to take some bad ass rope bondage classes and get my kink on on the international level. Torture Garden of London fame is hosting a fetish ball in Tokyo in a few weeks. OMG I cannot wait.

This country I’ve chosen isn’t perfect. No place is, but for now Japan offers me the ritual, discipline, spiritual sanctity, financial security, physical safety and professional opportunities that I can’t find in my own country, especially at this moment in history. Yes, I feel safer here, practically within spitting distance of North Korea and it's nukes, than I did walking down the street at night in my own country. As a solitary soul and an independent woman I spent many nights in fear, because I was alone - as Goddess intended - but I was alone in a country full of dangers for a woman like myself.

I am an introvert. I now gleefully spend my days walking silently through the tiny streets of my Tokyo neighborhood. I use google translate to communicate. I bow a lot. I make eye contact with people, something I never did back home. I smile at strangers. It feels so good.

The food is fresh as fuck. The people are gentle. The fashion is on point. The aesthetic is dynamite. And they love a tall blonde gaijin. There’s even Starbucks so I can still get my fix.

I just had to do it. I couldn’t wait one more moment. The more loved ones I lost to over dose the more I began to realize just how short life really is. And how precious. And how fragile. I’ve spent my entire life in service to other’s needs. It's called being a codependent. It was time to put myself first. I bet that’s a secret you didn’t know about being the best - the best dominants out there are in it for someone else. Almost always.

For me it was beyond being merely a ‘service top.’ I was and still am and always will be in service to my destiny, to the fates. Most days I wouldn’t choose this life. I hate being marginalized, misrepresented, judged and commodified by family, friends, lovers and the media whether it's because I'm kinky, a woman, a blonde, a queer or a sex worker. Most days I just crave a normal existence, even though I know the concept of normal is an illusion, really. But what I did need and could get that Japan gives me is a sense of peace, an advanced aesthetic and a sophisticated society.

America - you’re mean. There - I said it. And that’s coming from a Dominatrix. It’s my job to be mean and I still just can’t with you anymore. Not right now. So I quit. We're on a break. It's a symptom of a larger problem sure, most of which is my responsibility but nonetheless I choose to quit making myself available to any place or person who can’t or won’t appreciate me for me. After all, I’m just a girl. A girl with a whip. A woman who deserves love. A human. Being.

I don’t know when (or if) I’ll be back. My relationship with my new home is very new and like most new relationships I’m probably heady on all kinds of new relationship energy (NRE, go google it if you don’t know what that means). Once the dust settles, I’ll decide what my next move is. One step at a time, right? But one thing is for sure - I’m done with countries, men, communities and clients that may tolerate hate, anger and poor taste. Life is too short for anything less than beauty and love.

May you find what you are looking for. I know I have. Thank you Japan and thank you America. Maybe someday we will meet again.

Good bye for now. Love, Me

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