#in time for a workshop. every day i delay is making things harder for my classmates y'know?? but i've been writing like 1k words a day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

b0vidine · 1 year

Text

Hey! Incase you didn't notice in the tags that AU I’ve been posting about these last few days is called Encore, this post is going to be explaining that AU for anybody who may be interested.

This is just copy and pasted from my explanation on discord so if you read that one this post is nothing new.

I’m going to try to explain this simultaneously quickly while also in depth. I also want to say not everything in this AU is set in stone and things are subject to change as well as I don't have everything planned out. Anyways, onto explaining the AU. This AU is based on the idea of Whole being in the headspace. After a while of making music he started to run out of ideas and the loop wasn't keeping his audience as entertained as it used to. At first things were good, HMS were happy to have him there, and he enjoyed their company. However, being happy isn't entertaining.

Slowly he tried more and more to find inspiration with the three but it wasn't working. Whole found he has a ridiculous amount of power in the headspace, seeing that it’s his own brain. One thing led to another and Whole turned the headspace into a theater and HMS into marionettes. I have literally nowhere else to mention this so it’s getting mentioned here, HMS are little in this au like maybe a foot tall. (as you likely noticed) Whole began to manipulate the three, changing them to create a more interesting story. Initially he wanted to erase the three’s memories to create blank canvases to work with however he lacked the ability to fully erase the memories. So he settled for shifting them around, and by that I mean he gave all of Heart and Soul’s combined memories to Mind.

Due to this Soul has no clue who Whole is. Soul based a lot of what he did and who he was on Whole, now that he doesn't know who Whole is he’s lost that. Soul now lacks anything to push him forwards so he tends to act impulsively doing whatever the first thing that comes to his mind. Soul is typically just left on stage strung up, he’s easy to control and if he escapes it’s no big deal. Heart on the other hand is harder to control, he’s always been based on his emotions and his emotions aren't something Whole can take from him. Whole decided putting in the effort to keep Heart on his strings at all times wasn't worth it so instead he keeps Heart near him. By "near him" I mean in a birdcage in his “workshop” (a room in the theater he works on songs and other things in.) Whole lets Heart out every so often to help him write music and to receive his thoughts on things he's working on. Heart sees Whole as a friend, he doesn't understand that being treated like a neglected pet bird is a bad thing. He only wishes Whole would let him out more or perhaps give him a better cage. He has some built up resentment against Whole for this but not nearly as much as he should.

Mind like I said before has the combined memories of Heart and Soul, that’s every memory of every loop, all of their combined thoughts and feelings, all of it. Mind because of this tends to be more delayed when speaking or thinking, he considers his thoughts as well as Heart and Soul’s using their memories to try to find the best decision. He tends to be very quiet spending a lot of time in his own head. He now sees Heart and Soul as strangers now that they don't have their memories they are merely hollow shells of his old friends. Mind is more Heart and Soul than they are. He has a hard time bringing himself to speak with them often but he also cares too much about them to just let them wander around clueless.

Whole made the theater to control Heart, Mind, and Soul, to have them put on shows and test out story ideas. If they won't make interesting things on their own accord then he will make them. I’d also like to mention now that even though Whole does a lot of shitty stuff in this au I don't want to seem like I'm villainizing him or anything. He doesn't really see Heart, Mind, and Soul as separate from himself. So at the end of the day he's only hurting himself right?

For the basic story of the AU I don't have a whole lot planned, for now all I have is Soul escapes from his strings and eventually finds the other two. I’ve been bouncing around the idea of Mind bargaining with Whole to give Heart and Soul their memories either through games, tasks, or some other means. Though like I said in the beginning of this it’s a work in progress I’m still thinking on these things.

and as typical in my text posts I’ll include art and by art I mean Heart, Mind, and Soul’s full designs seeing I haven't posted them yet.

(Don’t ask why the art style I drew Mind in is so different from the other two I literally did all three of them in one night idk what went wrong)

Anyways,, that’s all for this one, till next time.

#Two drawings and a text post in the span of like an hour? yes #cccc #cccc au #encore au #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj mind #cj heart #cj soul #the mind electric #the soul eclectic #the heart acoustic #au #B0vidinebleating

60 notes · View notes

kellanved-ammanas · 1 year

Text

TF2 Drabbles: Engie & Pyro - Nightmare

Summary: As for a request, could you write another one like chapter 5. With Engineer and Pyro since I love Engi being like a dad to Pyro. My idea would be that Pyro is having a bad nightmare and goes to Engi for comfort. Maybe end with them cuddling but like platonic

One of these days Engie was going to have to get a coffee machine to put in his workshop so he wouldn’t have to trudge all the way to the kitchen every time he needed to refill his coffee thermos. Or perhaps he’d make his own coffee machine just for the sake of it. What improvements he could make to such a machine, he wasn’t sure of, but surely there was something.

Then again, having such a machine in his workshop would likely only encourage his bad habit of staying up way too late. Like he was doing right this very moment. He should probably at least try to go to bed. He’d just got done refilling his thermos though, he couldn’t let all that freshly brewed coffee go to waste. Likely, he would regret it tomorrow but…

He froze as he turned down the hall that led to his workshop. The door was open. He’d closed it upon stepping out as he always did, meaning someone else had gone in. It hadn’t been locked so they hadn’t broken in or anything but he resumed his approach with caution.

Probably it was nothing but it didn’t hurt to be wary. He didn’t have his guns on him but with a mechanical hand and a metal thermos full of hot coffee, he had a good chance of coming out on top in a fight against an intruder.

Upon reaching the door, he was careful not to touch it lest it make a sound and give him away. Allowing him to peek in and take stock of the potential danger before committing to any course of action. ….

It was Pyro. He stood with his back to the door, looking down at the gutted mini-sentry Engie had laid out on his workbench.

Engie let out the breath he’d been holding, rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had gathered in them. “Hey firebug, what you doing up so late?”

Pyro turned to look at him but didn’t say anything. Instead he shrugged his shoulders.

“Had another nightmare?”

Pyro nodded. Well, seems he’d decided to take Engie up on his offer to help with that instead of going straight to looking for the team’s limited supply of gasoline to burn something down, often setting the fire alarm off too and waking everyone. Now Engie had to actually help him. Which he didn’t begrudge in the slightest but wasn’t sure how to best do.

So, delaying, he closed the door before joining Pyro at the workbench, placing his thermos down on top of it. “You wanna tell me ‘bout it?”

A beat or two of silence as Pyro seemed to think about it before shaking his head.

“’Kay, feel free to change your mind if you want to though. I’ve heard talking about those kinds of things can help. Not that that’s an area I got any real expertise in.” The way people and their minds in particular worked were far harder to understand than the simple world of robots and machines. “In the meantime, for a distraction, you wanna help me with this mini-sentry here? I’m trying to make one that can shoot rockets. Though, I’ve also been thinking of trying to make one that can spew flames to help guard ‘gainst the enemy Spy. Not that you don’t do a grand job of that all by yourself but you can only be in one place at a time.”

Pyro perked up, nodding vigorously. The prospect of more flames never failed to make him feel better. Perhaps some would argue that leaning into his pyromania was unhealthy but Engie disagreed. Anything that made Pyro happy and helped him feel better could only be a good thing.

#my writing #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 drabbles #engie #pyro #engineer

6 notes · View notes

jonspurpleskirt · 3 years

Text

An Unlikely Befriending

Summary: Jon gets kidnapped. Jon gets bored. And Jon makes very unlikely friends because of it. Aka: Pen and Paper saves the day (world) and Jon finally gets to have a band. A/N: This is pure fluff, no warnings apply I think. ___

The worst thing about being kidnapped by a crazy mannequin murder clown monstrousity and sitting in a cold, room with creepy wax works, tied to a chair was not the ever present terror. True the fear of Nikola finally deeming his skin good enough and skinning him alive was quite potent, but it wasn't as bad as boredom.

Jon had never taken well to waiting. His mind needed to be occupied 24/7, needed something to latch onto, to obsess about. It's why he became a researcher in the first place. Having most of his freedom taken from him made occupying himself very hard.

At least they still let him eat and drink here and there. Nikola always visited personally, her overly cheery voice bubbling forth as she chattered away while slathering him with lotion or shoving bits of take out food in his mouth. His diet those last two weeks had been very varied and healthy and he had never drank so much water before.

He still probably looked a mess, what with no access to a shower and barely being able to sleep at all. And the constant terror. Oh yeah and the boredom.

Oh the boredom.

Jon was currently sitting in his chair as he was wont to do. Thankfully not nailed down despite all the nagging from Sarah Baldwin. The coffin was singing or moaning with a slight melody behind it, depending on who you asked. And somehow Jon found himself humming along, trying to find a good melody to go with the haunting tune. It wasn't like he had anything better to do and if he didn't start doing something creative his mind would start eating itself soon.

So he hummed, experimenting with the notes, twisting them into something that was reminiscent of circus music and airships. And then he kept humming the melody over and over, forming words in his mind to go with the tune. Once the spark was lit a fire started to burn, the story branching out and out into a twirling mass of chaos and fire.

He had gotten lost in his imagination, hadn't noticed how loud he had become, hadn't heard Nikola approach. Jon screeched when she leant down over him and grinned at him upside down, nose nearly touching his.

Nikola had the gall to laugh at him, no breath fanning over his face as she did so.

"Awww Archivist! I didn't know you had such a nice voice!"

"Hrmph."

"Yes your singing was also quite good!" She straightened herself, back cracking in several places. Striding around his chair she towered over him, tattered, bloody ringmaster uniform filling his field of vision.

"I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to sing, of course! And the broken repeat is lovely."

"Hm."

"Anyway water time!"

With gleeful cackling she ripped the tape from his mouth, amused enough to not immediately shove the bottle between his teeth.

"There are words to it, too." Jon rushed to say, not exactly sure why. What was he offering her here? A solo performance?

"Oh?" she at least didn't tape his mouth shut again. For now.

After waiting several beats where both stared at each other and nothing else happened Jon dared to speak up again.

"I ah... well I wrote it myself? Not wrote, of course. My hands are tied at the moment-" He was rambling. Nikola had given him the freedom of speech and he was off like a shot, telling her everything about what he had been thinking about before she had interrupted his impromptu jamming session, terror completely terminating his brain to mouth filter.

Nikola, for her part, took it all in stride. She even settled on the floor in front of him, blinking every now and then to indicate that she was still present.

"It's such a shame." she finally spoke, holding the water bottle to his mouth, letting him drink of his own volution for once. "You would have made a perfect piece for the choir. Hm maybe what will be left of you will do."

"I could sing for you now." Jon offered as soon as his mouth was free again.

Nikola startled at the offer and Jon just shrugged as much as he was able to. He'd rather sing to a creepy murder doll than spend one minute longer alone and bored out of his mind. And if he could delay the Unknowing (and the violent removal of his skin) by keeping Nikola entertained than even better.

That sounded like he almost had a plan. Which was untrue. He only had a very strong desire for entertainment.

"No sneaky questions." Nikola warned.

"Promise. I can't guarantee good quality rhymes, though. I'm still workshopping."

Singing out loud what had been in his head was always an awkward affair. He had wanted to start a band with Georgie in uni. But it was exactly because of this that he had never bothered.

"That was fun!" Nikola screamed after he was finished nontheless. Clapping her hands in delight, which created a horrible cracking noise.

"I'm glad? I also DM."

She tilted her head at him. "What's that?"

Jon explained the concept of pen and paper games to her while she rubbed lotion into his skin and had her hooked immediately.

Later that day (or maybe the next day, really Jon had no concept of time anymore) Jon was for the first time allowed out of his chair, carefully rubbing circulation back into his hands. Nikola had only briefly left him alone after watering and lotioning him. They had hashed out what kind of world and system they wanted to use (a horror setting, of course) and then Nikola was off and dragging Breekon and Hope back into the room so they had enough people to play.

Either Breekon or Hope sat down behind Jon, large hands lightly clasping his arms, squeezing every once in a while to remind him that should he try and escape he would only end up in pain.

Jon shifted awkwardly in the grip, unused to gentleness even if it was supposed to be threatening.

"Alright. First, character creation. Who do you guys want to play?"

It became a daily thing. The three beings in his group quickly became addicted to his story telling and to the characters they were allowed to play. Nikola tore through characters, trying on different personalities like pieces of clothing. She had a beautiful eery singing voice, Jon was surprised to find out when she had decided to play a member of a steampunk band.

Breekon and Hope were less manic, too attached to their twins to play anyone else. They changed voices and accents every session, though. Jon deigned to ignore their shenanigans, scared to make them angry. He hadn't had this much fun in ages, he didn't want to loose that.

The two delivery men took turns holding him down while they played, Hope holding onto his arms and Breekon using him like a child would a Teddy bear.

Eventually the three lingered after their sessions had ended, the ropes that tied him to his chair less tight. Jon tried to keep the conversations casual, to not ask all the questions that burned at the tip of his tongue. He found that he didn't need to. Tongue loose from goofing around Nikola was often chatty, Breekon and Hope throwing in their two cents every once in a while.

Eventually the topic about Tims younger brother came up.

"Danny Stoker? Grimauldi skinned him? Hm..." Nikolas head nearly dislodged as she stared at the ceiling in thought. "Noooo." She giggled. "We didn't skin anyone that night, silly! We were scoping out locations for the dance! Danny's little group stumbled into us and got a little confused~"

"But Tim saw Grimauldi rip Dannys skin off of a puppet."

Nikola shrugged. "An illusion. We're good at making you people see things that aren't really there. Yet."

"So Danny is alive?"

"I believe so!~ If he didn't die in a ditch somewhere."

Jon was very careful to keep his voice as soft as possible with the next question. "Could you find him again and bring him to the Institute? To Tim and... I don't know... maybe that's a stupid idea given that he can't be sure it's really him..."

"If I track him down do I get inspiration for my character next session?"

"That's cheating." Breekon complained under his breath behind Jon.

"I... yes?"

Nikola grinned. "Wonderful! I see what I can do!"

Days went by like that, Nikola or Breekon or Hope updating him on Dannys search, which had turned out to be harder than they had thought. Well at least Jon was keeping them busy.

They were in the middle of racing a burning train into the central bank of London when a door creaked behind Jon, bathing the room in technicolour and spiral shapes.

"That is not what I thought I'd find here." A voice that wavered between confused and gleeful mused.

Jon twisted in the grip Breekon had on him. "Hello Michael."

"Hello Archivist. You've found yourself in an interesting situation." The grin Michael shot him was a knife glinting in the light before striking.

"Yes. Why are you here?"

Nikola had let him practice after Jon had explained his lack of training, much more lax with her hostage now that he fed her fascinating stories of blood and gore. So there was no trace of compulsion in his voice when he asked the question.

Michael answered truthfully anyway. "I came to kill you of course!"

"I have dips on that!" Nikola said, voice pleasant and grin feral.

"I'm sorry about that. Would you like to join the game instead?"

Michael stared at him as though he had grown mad. Impressed, curious and lightly terrified. Then it laughed that horrible, headache inducing laugh.

"There's a lot of lies and delusion." Jon coaxed, heart beating out of his chest with nerves.

"He's a good storyteller." Hope added, Nikola and Breekon nodding along.

"Hm alright. I guess I can play for a bit."

It didn't stay just for a bit. Michael stayed through the finale of the story and then demanded to start another, their little ragtag group of definitely not heroes causing more chaos than any other player group Jon had ever DMed before. And that was saying something. Hours upon hours passed, Michael disappearing and reappearing to get Jon coffee and tea to keep his voice from giving out.

In the middle of it all Michael began twitching and twisting, glitching in and out of sight before slumping to the ground with a groan, form for once near comprehensible. Another door opened and out walked Helen looking down at the Distortion in disappointment.

"Oh that didn't destroy you. Shame."

"Helen?"

"Hello Jon! I was coming to rescue you given that Michael got a little distracted. Do you want to come to the archives with me?"

Honestly Jon should have been shocked, probably angry. He was definitely sad. And yet the most he felt was just an overwhelming sense of whelp.

Jon vaguely gestured towards Nikola, as much as Breekons hold allowed him to. "Ask her."

"We're not done yet."

"Later then?"

Nikola considered Jon for a long moment, both staring unblinking at each other. "Give us an hour."

To Jons great surprise Helen just nodded and delicately sat on the chair Jon usually frequented in his "freetime" all prim and proper except for the long sharp fingers curling at the edges like corkscrews.

"Now where were we?"

Michael groaned from the floor for once not smiling. Jon felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

"Are you alright?"

"Been better. Been worse. Let's burn this village down!"

There was no end to the tale they had been playing, not with just one session of playtime. Jon felt a bit bad about that, especially because he had left it at a cliffhanger. No one seemed to be angry at him for it, though. Michael had recovered fast and was again his usual ominous cheery, albeit lightly aggressive self. He poked and prodded at Helen like a curious cat while Nikola massaged lotion into Jons skin for the last time and handed him several expensive looking bottles, rattling down a step by step skin care routine he was to follow to the t or else she would break into his house and do it herself.

Hope patted him on the head. "See you around, Archivist."

"You're really letting me go? Just like that?" Jon still couldn't believe it.

Nikola shrugged. "I found another option. And I'd like to keep doing this after the Unknowing."

"Will that be even possible?"

The grin he got from was not at all reassuring. "I don't know~"

Well that was probably the best he would get from her. Jon gave a hesitant tiny wave and, flanked by both Michael and Helen stepped through their door.

Back at the archive no one had even questioned his disappearance. A fact that made Michael and Helen laugh, even though they both refused to leave as Tim, Melanie and Basira questioned him about his whereabouts.

Martin was the only one who took Jons forced vacation in stride. Maybe he even was a little too happy about a group of mannequins harassing him to take better care of himself.

"You're not compromised now, are you?" Basira asked when Jon had settled back into his office after a long shower.

"No? Because I still don't want the world to end?"

"Good."

Somehow Jon knew that she would still keep an eye on him from now on.

~~~

When the day came to blow up the ritual site Jon hadn't slept a wink in three nights and was overcome by guilt. Despite how aweful his initial time at the circus had been and despite him knowing what horrible things Nikola and her kin did in their freetime, Jon still felt bad about probably killing her.

He tried to rationalize his feelings away, connecting his rising anxiety with the fact that Danny still hadn't been found. It was a flimsy denial.

Tim stayed by his side the whole time, resolute in his burning desire for vengeance. Jon was scared that he would loose him to this, too. Had confessed as much to Michael and Helen, who had taken to keeping at least one door manifested somewhere in the tunnels at all times. The two had started to get along well after some initial disagreement. The Spiral, split as it was between the two of them, was weaker in its influence now, leaving more of Michael Shelley and Helen Richardson to make decisions.

They weren't here now. Daisy, Basira and Tim were, setting up explosives and arguing about rescuing people that were already long dead.

And then Nikola appeared and the dance started and nothing made sense anymore.

Jon woke up six months later, Georgie calling him a monster and Basira giving him a statement to "eat" catching him up on everything he had missed. Tim had miraculously survived, having been dragged through a door by either Helen or Michael. Daisy and Basira had encountered Breekon and Hope, who had argued about what they should do with "Jons feral friends" and in the end had led them savely out of the building before it could go boom, muttering about possible inspiration points.

The only one who hadn't been saved was Jon. He tried not to feel too hurt about that.

Coming back to work was as anti climatic as it had been after the kidnapping. The only one who seemed happy to see him was Martin. He had apologized profusely for the hug and promptly stopped doing so when Jon dashed forward and back into Martins warm embrace, finally breaking down.

He had been too caught up in his crying to make a note of the little kiss Martin pressed into his hair.

They all were a little lost after averting the apocalypse, normal everyday life eluding them. Elias might have been out of the picture for the moment, but Peter Lukas had taken over and fighting against the isolation was taking its toll on everyone.

They were all huddled in the breakroom, faces grim and stewing in silence so as to not break into an arguement when they got their delivery.

Breekon and Hope stepped into the small space with their usual nonchalance dragging a scared young man between them, who had a lot of resemblance to Tim.

"Delivery for Jonathan Sims. Nikola says hi."

Tim was the first one up. "No... No no nononononono that can't be. He's dead. Jon. Jon tell me is that really him?!"

Jon looked at the scared man, who had his gaze locked on Tim, recognition slowly dawning on his face. He Looked and he Knew.

"Yes. No one was killed the night Danny disappeared. His group encountered Nikola and her troupe during a rehearsal, got confused and then lost. And was lost ever since. Nikola told me of this. She promised to find him for me, for you."

That was all Tim needed to rush forward, catching his brother in his arms and hugging him close. "Danny!"

Danny clung back just as tightly, awareness barely back. Still obviously shaken and confused.

Jon smiled at the two delivery men. "Thank you. Will he... will he be alright."

Hope shrugged. "Dunno. Nikola said to make him remember bit by bit. Been not Danny for a long time. Might need to get used to it again."

"We'll take it slow." Tim promised, silent tears streaming down his face.

"Good luck. Hey Archivist, do we get inspiration, too?"

Jon laughed, incredulous. The others in the room watched the exchange with varying degress of exasperation and outrage.

"You know what? Yes. Yes you have. And I'll give you all advantage on your rolls next session. Only that one session, though! Same for Nikola. How is she, by the way?"

Breekon made a so-so sign. "Restless. We've waited over six months to find out what happens after that cliffhanger you gave us."

"Right." He still couldn't believe it. "Tonight 8 o'clock, my flat?"

Twin grins, the most excited he had ever seen them. "See you then, Archivist."

Tim was still gently hushing his brother, rocking back and forth on his feet to try and calm him down a little. And he still had tears streaming down his face, looking like an absolute wreck. But he still managed to join the unimpressed stares that were thrown his way by everyone but Martin, who at this point had just started to roll with the punches.

"You really befriended the clown club and made them rescue literally all of us?" Basira asked in a deadpan voice.

"I kind of feel cheap now." Daisy muttered. "As though those clowns let us win."

"Look, what can I say? Pen and Paper games are fun. I can't blame them. And Nikola did want to start a band."

"Oh my god." Melanie groaned, her head thunking onto the table. "I can't believe it."

"A band?" Basira asked, suddenly much more alert. They really had gotten quite desensitized to the whole monster thing, hadn't they? "What, you can sing?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. But really. Shouldn't we... I mean shouldn't we focus on Danny? There's a cot-"

"I know." Tim interrupted. "We all know there's a cot. I'll take him home, you keep talking about your weird band plans. Monster boss? We talk later, but... thank you."

Silence reigned long enough to follow Tim out of the Institute before Martin piped up, cheeks reddening before he had even opened his mouth. "Could we... Could we have a taste?"

"A taste? Of what? My voice?"

"Hold up, if Sims is going to sing I'll have to record it." Melanie tapped on her phone and held it into the room as one would do a microphone. "Alright go."

Jon sighed, what he didn't do to keep up the group morale.

"Aww shit." Was Basiras conclusion when he was done. "What kind of music were you thinking of playing?"

"Steampunk."

"Count me in."

~~~

Today had been weird, Jon thought, mind reeling from the whiplash of... kindness? That had happened after the delivery of one Danny Stoker. Granted the last month, no

year

had been weird. But this had topped it all. At least it had been a nice weird.

Jon had nearly forgotten about his appointment with a certain group of Strangers when he got back to his flat, overworked, hungry and still processing. So he should be forgiven for the scream he let out when he saw three large figures huddling on his too small couch.

"You haven't been taking care of your skin at all!"

There was no time to duck away from the cold, hard hands that fluttered all over his body. Nikola squished his cheeks like a proper grandmother, clearly unhappy about their elasticity.

"I was in a coma for six months."

"And awake for a few weeks now." A cheerful male voice said from behind him, bringing the smell of pizza with it.

"We were there he didn't take care of himself at all!" Helen added, putting down several cans of soda and what looked to be instant coffee.

"You're horrible!" Nikola wailed, manhandling him until he was squished between Breekon and Hope. "All my beautiful work! Ruined!"

"Uh... sorry?"

"You can make it up to us with weekly sessions." Michael suggested with a grin.

"Both on Saturday and Sunday!" Helen added.

"I actually planned for Sunday to be band day." Jon lied. "Basira wants to join, by the way."

They were all settled around the small coffee table now, food and drink on the floor so they had enough place to roll their dice.

"Wonderful! What did you think we'd name it?"

Jon tilted his head given the illusion of thinking it over even though he had known what to name his band since highschool.

"The Mechanisms."

#tma #jonathan sims #nikola orsinov #breekon and hope #michael the distortion #helen the distortion #kidnapping #fun times #humor #fluff #fanfiction #my writing #everyone lives cause i said so #even danny #enemies to friends

51 notes · View notes

imjustthemechanic · 3 years

Photo

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays

Did we need more angst? Of course we did.

Peggy was terrified that Masters would whisk Steve away again and that she wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him, leaving her kissing Daniel on the cheek to be the last thing he saw of her for a long time. It was Howard, of all people, who came to the rescue. He popped out from behind Steve and put his own possessive arm around his friend’s shoulders.

Well, before we send Captain Rogers off on his whirlwind tour, I think he’s earned a home-cooked meal,” said Howard. “Come and eat at my house, Steve. Jarvis is a fantastic cook and I’ll have him do you up a special dessert.”

“As a matter of fact, Steve,” said Masters, “Mayor Bowron was hoping to treat you tonight…”

“Tell him that’s very thoughtful, Mr. Masters, but Howard asked first, and he’s an old friend,” Steve said. “I’ll have lots of time to have dinner with politicians later.”

“Oh, but…” Masters began.

“You heard the Captain!” said Howard triumphantly. “My place it is. What are you hungry for? Don’t tell me – good old fashioned steak and potatoes, right? Although Jarvis does a great duck confit…”

A voice spoke from somewhere near Peggy’s shoulder. “What if he caught his tie on something,” Kay said, “and accidentally hanged himself?”

Peggy looked down at her with a frown.

“He could slam it in the trunk of a car and get dragged down the road,” Kay said thoughtfully. “Or he could drown in the bathtub. Soapy water actually drowns you faster because with the surface tension broken, the water can get into all the little individual sacs in the lungs.”

“Please don’t tempt me,” said Peggy.

Howard also extended dinner invitations to Peggy, to Kay, and to Jason, and so that night all five of them sat down around the very long table in Howard’s dining room for several courses of Mr. Jarvis’ excellent cooking. Steve was obviously relieved, not only that he got to spend the evening with friends instead of strangers, but that he was in a setting where nobody would judge his appetite. Since getting the serum he’d been able to eat enough for four people, and he didn’t like dining in restaurants where people would be surprised and uncomfortable when he asked for third helpings.

“He’s got a whole tour planned for me,” Steve said, pouring gravy on his potatoes. “It’s going to be like selling war bonds all over again.”

“War’s over,” Howard pointed out. “We won. Tell him you want to go home.”

“I did,” said Steve, “but I don’t really have a home to go back to, do I? I’ve been dead for three years.”

Peggy looked at her plate. The home he would have had after he war was the one he and she were going to build together.

“He said I could refuse if I wanted,” Steve went on, “but I’d be disappointing a lot of kids who never got to meet their hero, and that national unity is especially important with the USSR gaining power and I would be an important symbol for people to rally behind. And then,” he added, “he said he would see about getting me re-activated, since I was discharged dead by mistake.”

Peggy took a breath in, but it was more in sympathy for Steve than shock that Masters would stoop to that. Vernon Masters was the sort of politician who didn’t care what kind of rules he had to bend to get what he wanted. If Steve wouldn’t take orders, he would put him in a position where he had no choice.

“Can he do that?” asked Howard.

Steve, whose mouth was full, shrugged.

“He’ll definitely try,” Peggy said.

“Not if he gets his head stuck in an elevator door and is decapitated by the moving cab,” said Kay tranquilly.

Steve stared at her.

“Ignore her,” Peggy told him. “She’s been doing that all day. What did he say when you asked if we could go with you to New York?”

“I didn’t, exactly,” said Steve. “I told him he shouldn’t be taking the credit for finding me when it was you four who did the work. Then he said that he didn’t mean to leave you out, and he would insist on Peggy and Miss Lake coming at least to New York with us.”

“He never mentioned Jason and me,” Howard put in, “but I won’t let him leave us out, either. It was my plane and Jason’s sonar. Would have taken us weeks, even with the coordinates, if we hadn’t had those.”

“That was very accommodating of him,” said Kay. “You should see what else you can get from him. Tell him you always wanted a pony when you were a child.”

“I don’t want a pony,” Steve told her.

“I do,” said Kay. “Getting kicked in the face by a horse is a pretty good accidental death.”

Steve glanced at her, then took Peggy’s advice and said nothing. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he said. “I don’t know if I can run around waving at crowds when I know Bucky’s out there and he needs help.”

This time, Peggy didn’t manage to avoid him catching her eye. He was remembering that rainy day when Peggy and Howard had helped him go AWOL and enter enemy territory to rescue his friend. He was wondering if they were willing to do it a second time, or even if he had any right to ask it of them.

“I’m sorry,” said Kay.

“It’s not your…” Steve began automatically.

“Yes, it is,” Kay interrupted him. “I came here to change the past, remember? What I’ve changed it to is making you miserable, so I’m sorry. I didn’t plan this far ahead. I figured I’d get you defrosted and then I could interrogate Underwood and we’d go save Barnes. I didn’t plan on anybody butting in, and I didn’t plan on you having other obligations afterwards. Maybe I should have.”

“Unfortunately, none of us can see the future… evidently not even somebody who’s been there,” said Peggy.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that. Howard was the one who broke it. “So Jason… what was it you were saying about the gyros on the stabilizer?”

“It’s the landing gear,” Jason said immediately, glad to help change the subject. “It shakes the rear gyro just enough to knock it out of alignment. We need to move the whole rig a little further forward on the plane, but that’ll make it harder to access from inside, so I was thinking…”

The two of them spent the rest of the meal talking shop, and after a dessert of apple tart tatin they wandered off to Howard’s workshop to draw up some new blueprints and tinker. That left Peggy, Steve, and Kay to have after dinner drinks with Edwin and Anna.

“A great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Rogers,” Anna said happily. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Edwin and Mr. Stark, of course, but that’s just not the same thing. You are every bit as handsome as you looked in the newsreels.”

“Oh. Thank you,” said Steve uncomfortably. “Howard did tell me about you two, as well. I’m glad it worked out for you.” He was, however, looking over Anna’s shoulder at Peggy.

Anna Jarvis was far to observant to let that slip by. “Edwin,” she said, “why don’t we let Captain Rogers and Peggy have a word, hmm? They must have been dying for a private moment all evening.” She winked at Peggy as she took her husband’s arm.

“And you can tell me where you got that beautiful brooch,” Kay added, joining them on their way out of the room.

“This? It was my mother’s, as a matter of fact,” Anna said.

Then finally, Peggy and Steve were alone, and Peggy felt terribly ashamed of herself. She should have told him right away, as soon as he was awake in the infirmary on the Valiant. Failing that, she’d had plenty of time to say something since. There was simply no excuse for finding herself in this situation. Kay was not the one who ought to be apologizing.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I ought to have said something.”

“Well… I was gone for three years,” said Steve. His voice was hesitant. He still didn’t quite believe it, did he? “I should have figured…”

“Steve,” said Peggy.

He stopped talking, and waited for her. It made her wish she knew what to say.

Peggy licked her lips. “I already told Daniel, and now I’m telling you, that I’m going to need a bit of time to figure this out. Finding you wasn’t something I could plan for. When Kay told me where you were, I assumed I’d be bringing you back for burial. She didn’t tell me you were alive, because I wouldn’t have believed her if she had. I was as unprepared as anybody.”

Steve nodded. There was another moment of terrible silence.

“Do you, uh…” he began.

“Of course I love him,” Peggy said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still in love with you. And it must be bloody obvious that I am, because Daniel thought I was just going to run off with you right away.”

She chanced a look at Steve, and found him standing there awkwardly, hands behind his back, looking at the carpet at her feet.

Peggy thought back on the plans they’d made. They’d been going to buy a farm. Before the serum Steve would have been utterly incapable of farm work, and he’d known it. He’d wanted to get out of the city and work the land in a way he’d always been told was impossible, and Peggy had been longing for peace after years at war… it had seemed like the perfect working retirement for both of them. That, too, had changed.

“I do know that the farm… we’re not going to be able to do that,” she said. “I want to keep working. I don’t think I’d do very well, knowing the kind of threats that are out there and not being involved in doing something about them.”

“I understand,” said Steve.

Of course he did… that was what he’d been talking about at dinner, how he didn’t like the idea of going on a publicity tour while his friend was in pain.

“Besides that, I really don’t know what I want right now,” said Peggy, “and I need to be sure before I make any big decisions, because I don’t want to end up regretting it. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah. I do,” said Steve.

“Good, I’m glad,” Peggy nodded. “Thank you.” For a moment she had a mad desire to go up and kiss him on the cheek, as she had Daniel earlier. That would have been fair: a kiss for each of them. She quashed it, however, because she realized that wasn’t true. It wouldn’t be fair at all to string either of them along, never mind both, not fair to Steve and Daniel and definitely not fair to Peggy. She could not divide herself between them. The Judgment of Solomon was not intended as romantic advice.

“I guess I don’t have anything to do but go on Mr. Masters’ tour…” Steve began.

Peggy looked up sharply. “Steve, I said I needed time, not that I’m abandoning you. Howard and I helped you save your friend once. If you need us, we’ll do it again. I still have faith in you.” She took Steve’s hands and stepped closer to him – this was not a romantic gesture, she told herself, she was merely reassuring a dear friend that she was there for him. She was allowed to do that. “Since we’re allowed to come with you to New York, we’ll do that, and we’ll see if we can have a word with Dottie and find out what Kay thinks she needs to know.”

Steve squeezed her hands tight. “I don’t know if I trust her,” he said.

“Neither do I, but she’s the only lead we have on this,” Peggy replied.

“Who is Dottie?” Steve asked. “I’ve heard you mentioning her but nobody’s told me…”

“Oh, that’s a story you’d better sit down for.” Peggy led him over to a chair. “In fact, it’s all the more important for you to know, because she comes from the same place as Kay does, though apparently for very different reasons.”

The Jarvises and Kay remained chatting on the back patio while Peggy told the story to Steve – but Howard and Jason eventually reappeared. They found Peggy in the middle of the tale of how they’d gotten a sample of Zero Matter from Whitney Frost. Jason didn’t want to interrupt, but Howard, with his usual lack of anything resembling tact, pulled a bottle of whiskey out of the roll-back desk and asked, “so how are the lovebirds?”

Peggy winced. “Trying to have a serious discussion of what Steve’s missed in the past three years,” she said. “That’s how.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” said Howard, pouring drinks for himself and Jason.

“I wasn’t about to, but then you spoke,” Peggy said dryly.

Steve shook his head with a smile as Howard and Jason headed outside to join the others. “He hasn’t changed at all, has he?”

“Not a bit,” said Peggy. “Have I?” The question slipped out and she immediately regretted it. What if she didn’t like the answer?

“I don’t know yet,” he replied.

Peggy knew that was a lie. She’d just told him she didn’t want to be a farmer’s wife anymore, and that was most certainly a change. Or was it? Even if things had gone the way they’d planned, would she eventually have gotten restless and tired of country life?

They were starting all over, weren’t they? They’d just met, and now had to figure out who the other was, and Steve, as much as Peggy, was going to need some time to do that while Daniel… Daniel, unfortunately, would just have to wait.

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

13 notes · View notes

kinda-iconic · 4 years

Text

You’re all I ever wanted (pt II)

Summary: Christmas arrives in New York, and Adrian and Amy decide to spend their first official Christmas as a couple in the sanctuary of the penthouse.

Author’s Note: So, my original plan was to post this fic in one full post… but my windows keeps crashing (it’s playing up every minute or so), thus making me decide to split this fic into 3/4 parts - the second part being was meant to be posted on Boxing Day (26th Dec), however, there was a delay.

This fanfic takes place between ‘Guilt isn’t always a rational thing’ and ‘Truth doesn’t always set you free’.

Taglist: @nk-writes @queerchoicesblog @shelley-parah @bhavf @galaxyside-0 @galaxy-of-rosess @flyawayboo @octobereighth @katyagrayce @mangoruby @desiree-0816 @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @lovemychoices @hhiggs @flowerpowell @theclanless @iplaydrake @choicesfannatalie @adrianadmirer @krishu213 @perriewinklenerdie @timmagicktoad @femmeshep @drakesensworld @mfackenthal @the-soot-sprite @whenyourheartskipsabeat @luckyferrero @emceesynonymroll @adrianrainesworld @omgjasminesimone @dadrianraines @msuhailey @slaymesayeed @caroldxnvxrs @lexilooloolovesadrian @allaboutchoices @bbchoices @cora-nova

Half an hour passes, and there has been no movement from the bedroom; after speaking to Amy, Adrian made his way into the bathroom, preparing himself for the events of the day. He switches on the shower, the hot water hitting the tiles rather swiftly; he waits for a moment, allowing the temperature to climb before entering. The mirror begins to steam, yet Adrian’s focus remains on the bathroom door. His eyes fixate on the handle, his ears twitching ever so slightly as he tries to listen out for any sign of movement.

But he hears nothing.

‘Amy?’ His voice is soft, yet loud enough for her to hear, ‘is everything alright?’ He listens out for an answer, but his ears betray him. After a couple of minutes, he switches the shower off, preventing any noise from distracting her from the sound of his voice. He speaks again, his tone more stern and worrisome.

‘Amy? Are you okay?’

He doesn’t wait as long this time, his muscles tensing slightly as his concern intensifies. He steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist before opening the door to the bathroom. He peeks his head into the bedroom, his eyes darting to the four corners of the room before gazing at Amy; her sleeping form remains motionless, her arms tucked under her pillow as she falls further into her slumber.

‘Amy...’

He makes his way over to her, perching on the edge of the bed; he rests his hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake.

‘Amy...’ she stirs at the sound of his voice, reaching up to wipe the sleep from her eyes, ‘Amy, sweetheart, it’s time to get up.’

She sighs contently, her eyes fluttering open.

‘Mmmm... I slept through my alarm, didn’t I?’

He nods. She places her arms at her sides, lifting herself to sit upright. Adrian places a supportive hand on the small of her back.

‘You did, my love.’

She frowns slightly.

‘Why didn’t you wake me? I only wanted five more minutes...’

‘Because you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping,’ he strokes her hair, his hand falling onto her cheek, ‘and I thought that you deserved a lot more than five minutes.’

‘That’s very considerate of you, Mr Raines.’

He smiles bemusedly.

‘For you, I try to be,’ he adjusts his position on the bed, moving himself closer to her, ‘did you want me to get you anything?’

‘You’ve asked me that already...’

‘Well, your answer might have changed since then.’

She slowly wraps an arm around his waist, nestling her head into his chest; he reciprocates, his arms constricting around her torso.

‘I’m alright,’ she whispers, ‘but thank you for offering.’

He kisses her forehead.

‘You don’t need to thank me, Amy; you’re everything to me, and I just want to make sure that you’re happy and comfortable.’

‘I am,’ she looks up at him, smiling faintly, ‘I’m nice and warm... but there’s just one little problem.’

‘Oh? And what is that, exactly?’

‘You’re soaking wet,’ she glances at her pyjama top, ‘you could have at least dried yourself off before coming in here!’

He chuckles.

‘You weren’t answering me; I had to make sure that you were alright.’

‘But you could have at least dried yourself off a little bit; now I’m just drenched in shower water.’

‘We can fix that.’

‘How?’ She narrows her brows, a confused expression etched on her face as she gives herself a once-over, ‘I’m guessing your plan involves me getting dressed again?’

His arms tighten around her, drawing her closer to his chest; he presses a tender kiss to her forehead.

‘Yes, but it’ll be worth it.’

----------------------------------------------------

Adrian sits beside the bath, the hot water lapping against the sides as it begins to rise. He waits patiently for a moment before adding the bubble bath, pouring it directly into the stream of water as it leaves the tap. He fills the bath halfway, adding a few rose petals to the tub.

‘Amy?’ He calls out to her over his shoulder, ‘could you come in here please?’

‘Just a second!’

A couple of minutes pass before Amy enters; her hair is disheveled from sleep, and her pyjama top is still damp from their previous embrace. She begins to speak, her voice calm and giddy with curiosity.

‘Is everything okay? It seemed that you were pretty desperate to -’

She glances down at the tub, her brows furrowing in befuddlement as she spies the soapy water; she points to the bath.

‘I thought that you’d already taken a shower?’

‘I have,’ he gestures to the petals, ‘this isn’t for me.’

‘Is it for me?’ Her eyes widen as she focuses on the bubbles, the sweet aroma of apple and spice filling the air as the water continues to steam; he buries his face into the crook of her neck, kissing her shoulder.

‘It is indeed,’ he places his hands on her hips, swaying her slightly, ‘I used the bubble bath from your holiday set… I hope you don’t mind.’

She shakes her head.

‘Of course I don’t; I’ve been meaning to use them,’ she turns to look at him, a joyful smile blossoming on her face, ‘and the bathroom smells divine!’

He chuckles softly, reaching up to caress her cheek, his touch gentle and light.

‘And the smell isn’t too strong?’

‘Nope! It’s lovely… though I do feel like I’ve walked into Santa’s workshop.’

His brows furrow in confusion, causing her to tilt her head in intrigue.

‘Is it too strong for you? With your heightened senses…’

‘A little bit.’

‘Oh,’ she pouts slightly, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘There’s no need for you to apologise to me, Amy. I chose to use them, therefore, if the smell is too strong for me, then it’s my fault. I must have just poured too much in.’

She wanders over to the tub, perching on the ledge. She dips her finger into the water, testing the warmth before collecting a handful of bubbles. She opens her palm fully, blowing the soapy suds in Adrian’s direction, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile.

‘Do I really smell that bad?’

He shakes his head in amusement, reaching for the box of matches. He lights a few candles, placing one on either side of the bath.

‘You smell amazing, my love,’ he smiles up at her, extinguishing the match, ‘like sunshine and happiness.’

She giggles, tying her hair in a bun.

‘Then why all of the bubbles?’

‘In all honesty, I don’t usually have bubble baths,’ he runs a comforting hand down her spine, his fingers ghosting the small of her back, ‘I only really started buying the supplies for them when your visits were becoming more frequent, so I don’t know the right amount of mixture to pour into the water.’

‘Really? But surely you’ve had a bubble bath, or have prepared one for someone else.’

‘No,’ he pauses, ‘I usually take a shower; I’m not normally a ‘bath’ kind of guy.’

‘So you’ve never had a bubble bath?’

‘I have had one once or twice,’ he kneels before her, placing a gentle hand on the underside of her calf; he lifts each leg in turn, carefully removing the slippers from her feet, ‘but it’s very rare that I do.’

‘Then why don’t we change that?’ She smiles mischievously up at him, dipping her hand into the water, ‘this tub is big enough for two, after all.’

He shakes his head, meeting her smile with a loving grin.

‘I’ve already been in the shower,’ he rises to his feet, pressing a tender kiss to her temple, ‘but I might take you up on that offer next time.’

She sighs at the contact.

‘I’ll need to go and get a fresh set of clothes before I get in; I didn’t exactly bring anything with me.’

‘You didn’t need to.’

Adrian ponders over to the cabinet beside the sink; he opens the cupboard, retrieving a couple of freshly washed garments.

‘I went back into the bedroom and collected a few things whilst you were asleep… I hope you don’t mind.’

‘No, I… I don’t mind.’ She looks at the pile of fabric, her eyes fixating on each individual item; a pair of black leggings hang down from his arm. On top of them, a singular white vest and a green jumper. ‘I’m just relieved that you didn’t dig out my jeans…’ she gestures down to her stomach, ‘I’m not even able to do them up anymore.’

He laughs, placing the clothing on the stool beside him. ‘Well I’m afraid it’ll only get harder to fit into your old clothes as the pregnancy goes on, my love.’ He strokes her cheek affectionately, ‘I’ll have to go back and get you a pair of socks, as well as other things, but I shouldn’t be long.’

‘I can go and get them, it’s alright.’

She gets to her feet, but it isn’t long before he stops her, one arm carefully wrapped around her waist as he helps her sit back down.

‘Adrian… I’m fine, I… I can go and get them; it’s okay…’

He rests both hands on her forearms, holding her steadily.

‘No I’ll go,’ he smiles fondly at her, drawing soothing circles on her skin with his fingertips, ‘it was me who forgot them, it’s only right that I go and fix that.’

‘What do I do whilst you’re gone? Is there anything else you need, or…’

‘Amy…’ he stops her mid sentence, running his thumb across her bottom lip, ‘I’m meant to be taking care of you, remember? You’re carrying my child; I want to do everything I can to ensure that you and the baby are alright.’

‘And that includes running me a bath?’

He nods, his grin widening.

‘Baths… late night trips to the store to sate your pregnancy cravings…’ he places his hand gently on her abdomen, ‘endless cuddles and kisses. It’s all yours, Amy.’

She inclines her head towards him, kissing him softly. He smiles against her lips, his hand reaching up to tangle itself in her hair; he starts to speak, his voice calm and soothing.

‘Did that make you feel any better?’

She nods, looking down at her hands, her fingers clasping onto the fabric of her pyjama bottoms.

‘A little bit.’

‘Good,’ he rises to his feet, his hand never leaving her forearm, ‘I’ll be back in a minute; if you need me for anything, just call for me, alright?’

She places her hand atop of his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

‘Okay.’

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #choices bb #bloodbound #adrian raines #adrian x mc #choices fanfic #part II

40 notes · View notes

lepeintre-louis-david · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1- cont.

David enters Vien’s workshop and the classes of the Académie de Peinture- He is admitted to the competition of 1771- He takes second prize

Being practical people, David’s family would prefer to see their nephew devote himself to architecture. As for David, he had decided to study only painting. He tells us that, walking one day with his aunt Buron, with whom he was staying, he begged her to listen to him attentively and tell her husband what he was going to disclose to her. Then, with tears in his eyes, he conjured her in the most pressing terms to intercede with his uncle so that his inclinations were no longer thwarted and that he would no longer be spoken to of architecture, medicine or the bar. He assured her that his decision was irrevocably taken, and that painting alone had charm for him; that at any rate, the fortune, the consideration, the renown of Boucher had given new strength to his chosen vocation. In vain did his aunt represent to him that, in order to justify his own claims, it must first be assumed that his talent would one day equal that of his cousin: David did not wish to hear such things. Finally, thanks to these qualities, which can be found in a soul agitated by irresistible presentiments, he triumphed over her objections: she relented and promised to induce her husband not to fight against a resolve which could not be broken.

The next day, in fact, M. Buron told David that he had (first) to consult Boucher. The latter, flattered to see one of his parents reliving his love for painting, encouraged this happy disposition. But as his advanced age no longer allowed Boucher to take on students, he gave Buron a letter for his friend Vien instead, adding "that this artist was a little cold, but he (Boucher) would take care, on his side, to maintain the warmth he glimpsed in his young cousin."

At that time, Vien was a professor at the Académie royale de peinture. With sound judgment and a fair eye, he had devoted himself to the study of the masters and of nature. These qualities, so contrary to the spirit of the school, had made him fail in all his attempts to be admitted to the Académie, until the day that Boucher, on the occasion of seeing his L'embarquement de sainte Marthe, forced its doors open for him (1). Boucher had already discerned the advantage that a pupil would have in being directed by this wise and conscientious artist, and had therefore entrusted him with the education with his own son.

The uncle and nephew presented themselves to Vien at his home. Vien, on seeing David's drawings from college and his figures from the 'Académie de Saint-Luc, was astonished that he had done such work without having a master. Vien therefore accepted him as a pupil and advised him to draw first using the frame (2) for forty days, then to work from nature.

David was at the height of his dreams and able to indulge in that inclination that leads to the arts (note: to artistic achievement). Therefore he diligently followed the lessons that the master gave on life drawing, with a model who posed for three days a week. He met with many friends, because Vien's atelier was the most frequented and comprised of students who, like Regnaud, Vincent, and Ménageot, became distinguished artists.

Voilà! David made rapid progress and was soon admitted to the Académie (note: as a student), as we learn from the register for the residence of the Gentlemen Students of the Royal Academy, which records in the month of September 1766: Jacques-Louis David, aged 17 years, student of M. Vien, residing at the house of his uncle, an architect, in rue Sainte-Croix-de-la-Bretonnerie, facing that of Puits.”

Thanks to the registers of the Académie, we are able to follow the progress of the young artist. After three years of study, on September 30 he was awarded the third-place medal, called the 'quartier', having been judged in the awards that were granted every three months for the académies (3) made by the students. At that time David, who in 1767 had gone to live with his uncle Desmaisons, rue de Jouy-Saint-Antoine, had left his dwelling in order to move closer to Sedaine, that devoted friend of his mother and his family, and he came to live with him in (his lodgings) in the courtyard of the Louvre.

In March 1770, in order, no doubt, to try his strength, David took part in the preliminary competitive trials for the Prix de Rome. Receiving this sketch, it failed (to pass the competition) in which the figure is painted after nature.

In March 1771, having re-entered the ranks, he managed to be registered- placing last, it is true- on the list of competitors who were: Suvée, Vanloo, Taillasson, Peyron and Le Monnier.

For (the sake of) events that will follow, we believe that we should, in as much as possible, reproduce the story that he has left (4):

I found myself admitted (to the Prix), without having informed M. Vien, and without having done anything remarkable; only heads, painted academies, as well as sketches. So thus I was admitted; my master announced it to me by saying to me: "You are well ahead, (but) you do not play with these kinds of contests-what are you going to do?"

"I will make my painting, sir, like the others. We will see what I make of it."

The subject was the C'ombat de Mars et de Minerve, when Venus came to the aid of her lover. We only had two and a half months to complete the work. I realized at the end of six weeks that I had made my figures too small; that these dimensions consequently would have led to far too many figures; that the allocated time would not suffice me. So I began my painting again with fewer figures. There was only a month left, I had finished at the same time as the others, to their great detriment and to the satisfaction of all my friends.

The competition was not equal for me, for I was competing with two former rivals, MM. Suvée and Tailliasson, who entered the prize, one for the sixth and the other for the seventh time. Notwithstanding this disadvantage for me, the judges wanted that the first prize be given away to M. Suvée, saying that for my part I should consider myself lucky enough to have pleased my judges; that moreover, I had to experience failure a second time.

I took second prize. I strongly believe that he (Vien) only spoke for my benefit: at least I can not take any other idea on the part of my master; this delay, however, became detrimental to my advancement, for he would have left me four years earlier, (and with him) the bad style of the French School, which I afterwards had so much difficulty in forgetting in Rome.(5)”

During the meeting of the 31 August, 1771, the prizes were so distributed:

The first prize in painting to M. Suvée, d'Armentières, aged 26 years; the second prize to M. David, de Paris, aged 22 years,

We know this first work because it hangs in the gallery of the Louvre. The work denotes its creator's elan, his boldness of design and the great skill of his hand, the colours (he used) bear the stamp of the time, and to see (only) this artwork as well as those he painted as entries to various competitions, it would be difficult to guess that a future reformer lay within him.

(1) Boucher had angrily and insistently interceded with the Académie to gain Vien’s admission, against their resistance.

(2) The frame was used to help an artist learn to develop their sense of scale and proportion, before moving to freehand.

(3) The nude studies of male models required to prove artistic proficiency, particularly in history painting.

(4) The following sections are quotes from David, but do not (unlike the letters) reference a specific source. Thomas Crow mentions that David left behind unfinished memoirs, so it is possible that they stem from these, as J.L. Jules David interweaves the documents with their relevant section in the biography rather than leaving them separate.

(5) In effect, the winning of the Prix de Rome was the beginning of artistic independence for a student from his master. What David is saying in this paragraph is that by being held back by a misguided desire (on the part of the judges and his master) that he should learn by the experience of failure, Vien’s style became more ingrained in him and thus harder to unlearn once he became more independent. For David, then, there is basically a tension between the style he was taught (which was still grounded in more Rococo elements) and his own values and artistic motivations. He is, however, applying this comment somewhat retroactively, assuming the quote is from his incomplete memoirs, which were written in the 19th Century.

#jacques-louis david #art history #ch1_lpld

1 note · View note

infinitydecor253 · 3 years

Text

How to Create a Massive Market For Your Novel Using Hooks

All of the marketing books I've read holding repeating the notice that novels are much harder to sell than nonfiction books. People buy nonfiction books because they need them, but they buy story because they demand them. That's true enough. With a nonfiction bundle you've got (or should have) a well-defined object market and you should know exactly how and where to reach it. But with a novel the bazaar is often a little more vague and harder to pinpoint. So let's see what we can do to predicament this unhappy situation.

Most novels feature at least one adult issue you can tie into. For example, if one of your main disposition had an abusive childhood, that gives you a tie-in to talk closely child workshop - in articles, interviews, talks, links with support groups, websites, forums, newsletters, and much more.

That's just one little hook, but you can add many or even hundreds of them in a single story, hiding all sorts of things: illnesses, cruelty, victims of crime, lawn energy, politics, particular sports, or whatever interests you enough to type you need to talk and write about it. You can hordes your novel with hooks and create links to a wide cord of markets.

You still need to convince group that your bundle is something they want, of course. But with enough hooks you can type it something that they would want, since it relates directly to them.

If your main character belongs to a particular organization, or plant in a particular industry, those are hooks. You can now contact those association and tell them closely your book, application to give talks, or see if they'll buy a bulk freight for their managers, staff, clients, or to sell as fraction of their output cord or to use as a fundraiser. You durability even let them put their own logo on the envelope if they buy enough copies.

You can add hooks that object the markets you tins sweeps mass easily. Let's opinion the crooks in your tale hide out in a hotel. But which hotel? The biggest hotel in town, of course - and ideally one that's a sliver of a large chain. Now the hotel will help you promote and sell your book. In fact you could assistance things along by inspection the manager before you even write the bundle and asking him if he'd be happy for you to stage the big duel there. He's almost certain to agree, and once your book is published he can mention it in all his publicity materials: as featured in [name of your novel]. And he can sell copies to his guests, or put one in every room for his company to take home. "We actually stayed in the hotel in the story," they'll opinion proudly, thereby advertising both your notebook and the hotel at the same time.

Think about your proofreader - or even demeanor a short survey: who are they, what do they do, where do they live, where do they gather, what groups do they belong to, where do they shop, where do they go on vacation, what do they care most strongly and passionately about? Now do exactly the same for your own life, your interests and your connections. The answers testament give you wealth of hooks for your story.

You can also find hooks just by harmony your eyes open: look at all those group over there - that must be a really popular place, I could put that in my book!

Not every organization evidence be interested of course, but lots of them will. More than enough to make it importance your while. And once your novel proves successful you'll probably find that some of those tribe who turned you down initially now lack to get involved after all. You determination decide to include in your tale only those that agree to take part from the outset. Think carefully roughly deed this though, as some of your biggest potential markets effectiveness initially turn you down, or delay replying, but later agree to proceeds part. Alternatively, see if you tins discovery a replacement custom of equivalent size, so that if one turns you down you can feature the other one.

Don't forget online standing too. Perhaps your crooks situation a coded message on one of the biggest websites. The website tins then put a "Buy the Book" link on their homepage, mention it in their newsletter, and so on.

Isn't this compromising your integrity or compromising the story? Not at all. After all, the big duel needs to income location somewhere. Why not there? Does it really have to happen in a place you can't profit from?

When you're a bestselling novelist and millions of people buy your new bundle simply because it exists, you can series your shootouts anywhere you like. But until that happy day you've got to create a market for your work and continually build upon it. That stipulation whatever you can do now (without compromising the tale or your integrity) you should do.

Make some lists of people, businesses, organizations, places, professions, hobbies, pastimes, illnesses, animals, sports, causes, connections, and so on, and think about how you could build them into your story. What could you do to promote or connect to each of these things, and how would they in turn help to promote your book?

Your detective is also a great cook? Perfect - you can give cookery demonstrations and tasting assembly (and even sell some cookery books) based on her favourite recipes. That should liven up those dull book signings. (Book signings should never be dull by the way, but that's a separate article).

Her youngsters has been diagnosed with something nasty? Now you're in the perfect standpoint to become a high-profile spokesperson for fellow sufferers and raise education of their plight. Naturally, you'll donate some of the profits from your book and perhaps organize some other fundraising events to help them - and you'll type sure it gets very good press coverage. Infinitydecor provides wide range of decorative home, kitchen accessories, door & cabinet fittings, hooks and lightning acces sories online at best price in UK. For more details please visit my website Links: https://infinitydecor.co.uk/product/aniko-iron-hook/

0 notes

the-mewiest · 7 years

Photo

Let me start off by saying this post is WAY overdue… I went to a wonderful Body Positivity workshop back in June and kept meaning to write a post about it and then, as usual, life kept getting in the way. Then I started to beat myself up a bit about how delayed the post had gotten which made it even harder to get started. *rolls eyes* What’s that thing about getting rid of the negative self-talk, because it has no place in my life…? Oh, right. >_<

So here I am, sitting down to write this post because I really want to share something with you… The awesomesauceness that is… LUNA MATATAS! From the advertisement for the event: “Luna Matatas is a sexuality educator, crafting Goddess and a burlesque wannabe. She has over 10 years experiencing facilitating workshops on health, equity and sex and body positivity. Luna approaches groups with a playful, open-minded and empathetic spirit. She believes in dismantling anything that gets in the way of our self-love. […] She loves glitter, hates eggplant and is afraid of spiders.” And right there, I knew I was going to adore this woman.

Originally I thought I was going to share a lot more information about the content of the workshop but looking back I feel like I’d rather share a few tidbits and then allow everyone to discover her wisdom and message for themselves. Sometimes it’s more meaningful that way. Above you’ll find pictures of her card (I’ll include links to contact info below too) as well as some images/quotes she used in her presentation. For anyone struggling with body positivity or self-love or anyone who is interested in burlesque and pasties, I urge you to look this lady up! Now, onto the tidbits!

Body Love as Resistance & Resilience: How body acceptance is our revolution

“I struggle every day to be a good friend to my body.” (I *feel* this.)

Body Positivity Movement #bopo – find this on Instagram, tumblr… @bodyposipanda (great example)

Don’t apologize for your existence! Learn to ‘take up space’ and not apologize for it. (Not necessarily physical space – speak up, be heard, don’t shrink yourself or avoid being noticed)

Body hatred is physically & emotionally exhausting. Don’t you have better things to focus that energy on?!

“Get ugly honest” – Admit the horrible things you think about yourself, unpack them and get them OUT. (Don’t hold all that toxic shit inside!)

‘Resocialize’ your idea of beauty

IGNORE THE TROLLS! (I cannot stress this one enough, ever!)

I attended this workshop through my union’s Women’s Committee and just like with my WW meetings it was a really diverse group of people bringing their own experiences to the floor. It’s not something I enjoy talking about but I did share about how I’ve been asked if I’m pregnant over a dozen times since I was 16-17 years old. By strangers, by people who knew me, by a professor at Uni, by someone I was interviewing for a job…And we talked about all of the unexpected places that negativity or body shame comes from, and ways to combat that and reframe the way you think about yourself and others.

During the workshop we also did an activity where we made three columns on a sheet of paper and put the headings: Love, Like, Loathe. She has us write in each column the things we love, like or loathe about ourselves (and it didn’t have to be just about our bodies). Then she had us flip the sheet over and make those same columns, but this time write what we thing other people love, like or loathe about us. It was really interesting to see how that flipped the script. And it gave me my own idea! I’m going to get a pretty jar (because everything is better when it’s pretty) and a bunch of coloured pieces of paper and I’m going to have my fiancé write down things he loves about me – as many as he can come up with – and stick them in the jar. I may even ask some family and friends to write things too. Then, on rough or bad days, I’ll pull one out and read it. I’m sure some of the things will just remind me of things I already love and value about myself, but I’m suspecting that I’ll get a couple of surprises too and that just makes the idea even sweeter.

Anyways... all that to say, I really enjoyed the workshop and I think everyone should know about this wonderful lady and everything she represents!

Email: [email protected]

Website: lunamatatas.com

Twitter: @lunamatatas

Instagram: @lunamatatas

#lunamatatas #bodypositivity #bopo #beafriendtoyourbody

2 notes · View notes

tommyoboe · 5 years

Text

FINAL YEAR - WEEK 16.

Here we are again: Sunday and I’m alive. Still here. Doing alright. Mainly because Cameron and I treated ourselves to salted caramel doughnuts. And they were only 40p.

Yaaaaaassssss.

Yeah, anyway, on to this week. It’s been one of many contrasts, getting back to some serious practice but also completing other broader tasks and trying to enjoy myself in the process.

My lesson on Monday made me think in detail again about more expressive aspects of my music making, but also making every note, well, nice. On the oboe that’s basically impossible so good luck to me. Well, unless you’re Jonathan Kelly and then every note is like a little drop of heaven with beautiful expression and vibrato and life and...

It did propel me into the rest of my week of playing in various scenarios, including with a piano quintet, Folk Ensemble (although beauty is not the way things are done there, we just rock the fuck out, but then you know, being in tune is also nice) and in a performance last night of Verdi’s Requiem. This was particularly exciting as it is one of the classic pieces that are in my bucket list to play, so to get the opportunity last night was invaluable. The ‘Dies Irae’ was just something else, completely electrifying as the choir and orchestra came together for the famous descent (watch the latest Google advert or something for reference). As always, there was the odd hairy moment but overall I felt an improvement since my last orchestral performance, which is nice!

Thursday: whirlwind day. The alarm went off at 4:45am and I was straight out of bed, wanting to die inside but knowing I had to get ready. I was off to Germany for the day.

The time was mostly spent travelling: two flights and two train rides there, along with a taxi ride led me to Lübeck’s music college in the north for a lesson with the oboe teacher. By this point I was relieved to be here, even though I spent the first train journey wondering if I was on the right train and being too afraid to try my limited German at asking someone. Once at the school, I knocked on the classroom door to no response, despite hearing oboe playing. I proceeded to wait a further ten minutes before knocking and then going straight in (although to find a second door) to see three faces look at me in shock when I introduce myself in English. Once over that and I awkwardly plod into the room, I was able to enjoy the lesson and gain yet another perspective on oboe playing and creating music.

And quickly came the journey back, where I wandered Lübeck’s Medieval town, past the historic Holstentor, the old gateway to the city, before hurriedly heading back to Hamburg Airport for the flight back home. I luckily made it in good time, which turned out to be VERY good time as the flight was delayed half an hour and then once on board it was a further hour and a half before we were on our way. That was fun as I hadn’t eaten since 12 and it was now 9 so I was starving and slightly dehydrated. I was literally so happy when the on board refreshments service came to my rescue. Damn, I miss those waffles I had.

I was truly exhausted by the time I got back home after midnight. Next month’s trip to Cologne is luckily taking place over two days!

Tuesday was down to reality, rather literally, with another observation at a local residential home as part of my Community Engagement module. I spent the time bowing my head along to the jolly folk music being played with a super range of instruments but also finding the contrasting bleak physical surroundings and clinical nature of the place just too apparent. I definitely left less inspired than I thought I might, but I also want to deliver well in next week’s practice workshop with my group to give the residents something to smile about.

It also made me want to work harder to achieve and get a great life for myself in the next few years. I say in the next few years, I already have that in many aspects, despite sacrificing much of my social activity this year to focus on studying and improving my playing. I’m incredibly lucky to have easy access to it all though, and will continue to strive for that post Conservatoire next year.

Izzy’s birthday gathering last night here in the flat was lovely though, although brief for me following the gig. Despite wanting to drink more to properly keep up my hilarious and embarrassing chat, it was great to see some old faces and have a laugh, even just for a little while.

Next week: more work, more fun, more music.

0 notes

ciathyzareposts · 5 years

Text

A Personal Note

I got behind in entries and ended up having nothing to published today at noon, for which I apologize. I am of course still working on Dark Stone Ritual and Star Control II while investigating some interesting off-list options.

I thought I’d take today to let you know about an interesting change in my life. When I started this blog in 2010, I was employed full-time in a public sector position. I really enjoyed my work, and was good at it, and rose to a leadership position in some professional organizations that covered my area of expertise. I got lots of offers to consult and train in my field. My employer was very generous in giving me extra time off (without pay) so I could indulge in these opportunities, but eventually that got to be too much, and I ended up quitting my job so I could pursue consulting and training full-time.

Self-employment is an interesting lifestyle. It hasn’t worked out great for me. First, what no one tells you is that you need to charge about three times your previous hourly rate to “break even” on your full-time salary. (This part only applies to the U.S., of course, although I’m sure every country has its self-employment pitfalls.) This is partly because you’re now paying your own social security taxes and health insurance but mostly because there is no longer such a thing as an “off-day.” You have to be able to justify hours spent with actual product. You can’t have a bad day where you “phone it in” and get paid anyway. There are, needless to say, no sick days or vacation days. You’re free to take them, of course, but at a quantifiable cost.

The worst part about self-employment is that every hour becomes a work hour, or at least a potential work hour. I don’t think I’ve actually worked harder in the last 8 years than in the 17 years before that. But I have had more of a constant pressure of work. Days, nights, weekends, weekdays all blend into each other, and all could conceivably be spent on my computer doing what someone is willing to pay me to do. Only some inherent laziness and, of course, my CRPG addiction, has kept me from making triple what I actually did make during this time.

The biggest factor about my particular brand of self-employment has been travel. I talk about it occasionally on the blog, but not as much as I used to, because early on I got some criticism for revealing too much personal information. The hard facts are that between 2011 and 2018, the minimum number of nights per year I spent in hotel rooms was 204. In 2017, I was on the road for 257 nights out of 365. I’d like to say I got paid for all those days of travel, but unfortunately I chose to live in one of the worst possible areas of America for someone who travels a lot. You cannot leave Bangor, Maine (if you can even get a flight out of Bangor) early enough to get anywhere (except maybe New York) and still get work done that day. Nor can you get a return flight unless you leave in the morning. A 2.5-day workshop in California translates into an entire week on the road–longer if there are delays.

So what’s the change? I just signed a contract for a full-time job. Starting in the fall of 2019, I will be a full-time university professor. This will require another move, but one that Irene and I are both happy with.

I have no idea what to expect from my new circumstances in terms of free time. The university expects me to teach 4 classes a semester, which is not a lot. I’ve done adjunct teaching since 2001, and there were times I had 4 classes in addition to my other full-time work. But working full-time for a university comes with other duties that I’ve never had, and I have no idea how much time they take.

The university is off for 5 months a year, which sounds like I’ll have a lot of free time during those months, but they expect me to finish my PhD within three years. Plus, to be able to afford to take the job, I’ve had to keep several of my existing contracts (mostly those that don’t require a lot of travel). So it’s a toss-up, and I have no idea of all the consequences for my life.

On the whole, I’m really looking forward to my new life. I like teaching, and the students and faculty at this university seem great. I’m not looking forward to the dissertation. I’ll be glad to spend more time at home, but conversely I’ve really grown to prize my SkyMiles and Hilton Honors statuses, and giving those up is going to be painful. I don’t mind the thought of a daily commute, not with all the great audio stuff to stream these days.

This blog will continue, of course. The new job isn’t going to cure my CRPG addiction. And I have a feeling that a regular schedule help me better structure both my playing and blogging and my work on the book I announced a few months ago.

Thanks for listening, and regular CRPG coverage will resume soon!

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/a-personal-note/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

0 notes