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beholdme · 3 years

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All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 7

Chapters: 7/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

They are absolutely trashing Martin's bathroom, but he can't bring himself to mind. Not even if it costs him the security deposit on his ridiculous, tiny flat.

Gerry is sitting in the empty bathtub, stripped to his briefs, laughing so hard that tears roll down his checks, tracking black eyeliner with them, and Jon is sitting on the edge of the tub and trying to keep track of which pieces of hair have been dyed while Gerry refuses to keep his head still. Martin is sitting on the floor next to them and holding the bowls of varying shades of purple dye.

The dye itself is flying everywhere, between four hands attempting to apply it and Gerry's apparent inability to keep stationary and stop laughing for even one second.

"Gerry! Keep still," Jon yells in his best teacher voice. His imperious tone is demanding, but the grin on his face rather undercuts it.

"Can't," Gerry insists, pulling his head down (with dye covered hands) to press their lips together. The kiss is sweet, but Jon doesn't appreciate all the new places it covers him in hair dye.

"Gerry, it might all go more smoothly if you just let Jon and I do it for you." Martin advises him.

Gerry pouts, "Letting the men in my life just do things without my participation wouldn't be a very 'strong independent woman' move on my part."

"You're not a woman," Jon points out drolly, "Besides, what does that say about me, with the way you two are always arranging to pay for everything we do and everywhere we go?"

"It says you have two incredibly attractive men who like to do nice things for you." Martin tells him firmly, as he always does when the topic arises. They all hear Jon's eyes roll.

"Gerry," Martin starts in the voice he knows gets just the right response from him. "Stop being a brat and. Sit. Still."

Gerry sits still. Martin kisses him to inspire continued good behavior, and Gerry's teal eyes practically glow in a way that fills Martin with supreme satisfaction.

With their target stationary, Martin and Jon make quick work of Gerry's remaining hair.

He is ordered to stay put in the bathtub while it sits, and Martin starts cleaning up the bathroom. Jon heads into the shower to avoid being dyed in a plethora of bizarre places.

Martin goes to return the dye to Gerry's hair product box, and pauses with his hand in it.

Gerry, sensing Martin's distraction, jumps up to go over and stand behind him. Martin settles back into the warmth of his chest, and Gerry's arms snake around him.

"You would look very fetching in that colour," Gerry whispers enticingly in Martin's ear.

"You think?" Martin murmurs back, eyebrows rising in consideration.

"Yes," he replies, leaning forward to bite Martin's ear lightly. "Please."

"Whatever might you two be consorting about over there," Jon demands cheerily, emerging from the shower wrapped in his towel.

"Martin was just about to agree to become the next hair dying victim." Gerry informs him confidently, snaking an arm around Jon's shoulders and bringing him in close so he too can see the bottle sitting in Martin's hand.

"Oh." Jon says in a reverent sort of voice. "Yes, I think that's a very good idea indeed."

***

Martin sits still much better than Gerry did, and Gerry does his hair himself, Jon having already rid himself of persistent stains and wandered off to make something for lunch.

Gerry pushes Martin in front of a mirror (not Martin’s favourite pastime, but for Gerry, he suffers it) and they both look at him. Gerry grins. “It’ll look better in the end obviously, but what do you think, love?”

“I like it, actually.” Martin whispers, like a confession.

“Actually? I expect more self-confidence than that from my masterpieces, babe.” They laugh and sway together in front of the mirror.

“I love it, thank you.” Martin turns in Gerry’s arms and they kiss slowly and thoroughly.

Martin presses his hands along Gerry’s bare sides and up along his spine, where he knows a line of eyes is inked along each vertebrae.

Gerry keeps his hands on Martin’s chest, in an effort to keep their respective hair dye where it belongs, although his hands cling to Martin's shoulders and push and pull in response to their movements.

“Really you two? I leave you alone for 5 minutes and you’re both half naked and making out?” Jon interrupts them from the doorway, his words soft and appreciative.

“We could be even more naked, if you're interested in that?” Gerry offers, winking at him.

“Could we?” Martin asks, apparently just wondering out loud.

Gerry raises a suggestive eyebrow at him. “We definitely could be.” Gerry smirks, "You are familiar with how nudity works, yes?" He illustrates his point by pulling at the waistband of Martin's briefs and letting them snap back into his hip.

"Yes, I am familiar." Martin growls into his mouth, biting his lip for good measure. "Care to join, Jon?"

"Maybe when there's less hair dye on the table, so to speak. Ger, your timer went off, you'd better jump into the shower and wash off."

"Yes, sir." Gerry pecks Martin one last time, salutes Jon and strips off to hop into the shower.

Martin flushes at his casual nudity, and a heavy look passes between him and Jon.

Taken with Martin's pink laden head, Jon can't resist going over and pressing just one kiss to Martin's soft lips.

Later, when the bathroom is clean and everyone has washed, dry hair, they all pile around Martin's sitting room, a documentary playing softly in the background. Martin's new soft pink hair looks even better dry and Jon had whispered to Gerry conspiratorially that it reminded him of Martin's sweet early morning blush.

Martin is braiding Gerry's now wildly purple hair, and Gerry has convinced a reluctant Jon to let him paint his nails.

"We really shouldn't." Jon protests, even as Gerry paints on the base coat. His own nails are painted black, of course. His artist's eye appreciates Jon's neat, smooth nails, and he considers what kind of tiny designs he might be able to sneak onto them at some point.

"Why not? I used to paint your nails all the time when we were younger. That's where I got most of my early practice."

"I'm not a teenager anymore, Gerard. I have a professional job!" Jon complains, but Gerry knows these are only nerves, not lack of desire.

"Oooh, Gerard!" Martin coos, before tumbling into a laugh. "There's nothing in the dress code that says you can't have painted nails, Jon. And we all know you like having them done."

"That's meant for women, and you know it, Martin." Jon protests.

Gerry and Martin both stop their tasks abruptly to stare at him. "Jon, babe," Gerry can barely contain himself. "You are wearing a skirt. Martin has pink hair. I'm getting my absurdly long hair braided - into pigtails. I don't think any of us are exactly paragons of toxic masculine stereotypes."

"Besides," Martin adds, when he can speak calmly without tumbling into hysterical laughter, "there's no gender specific dress code at the library. All it says is 'If nails are painted, they must be neat and unchipped.'"

Jon looks askance at both of them, crossing his skirt clad legs primly.

"Come on," Gerry encourages gently, "It's just this one time. If you don't like it, we can take it off before you go to work on Monday morning. Or while you're at work on Monday. Or in an hour. Or anytime at all. It's just one small adventure."

"I know it's been a while, love." Martin pitches in, "But, don't worry, Gerry will be gentle."

Jon ends up with green nails, which he likes very much. Gerry is enamored with his braids, and begs Martin to teach him to do it himself. Martin is simply delighted to have a house full of laughter and colour for the first time in his life.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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unfolded73 · 4 years

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Five Times Ronnie Was a Friend to David and One Time She Was a Friend to Patrick (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

"I think it's less about Ronnie disliking Patrick, and [more about] Ronnie seeing this person come in and having a huge effect on someone she cares as much about as she does David," Robinson said. "Ronnie likes to take her time and figure things out, and err on the side of suspicion." -- Karen Robinson in The Advocate

Rated Teen, 3876 words

___________________________________

When Ronnie saw Stevie get out of the car that morning with David Rose, she almost spit out her coffee.

Ronnie had been going on Roland’s annual turkey shoot since before she’d run for town council almost a decade ago, when she’d shot more turkeys than any of the men on the trip and had earned a lot of grudging respect. This morning, she’d been standing there with Bob and Roland, shooting the same kind of shit they always did. Their council meetings often devolved into this kind of idle chatter, which was one of the many reasons it was hard to get anything done in Schitt’s Creek.

The day was cool and crisp and Ronnie’s thermos of coffee was warm in her hand. She was already looking forward to swapping it for beer later, after they’d hopefully bagged a few wild turkeys. Then David and Stevie arrived, and Ronnie’s attention was thoroughly diverted.

Ronnie hadn’t really spent any time with David Rose yet. She knew Johnny because he’d made a nuisance of himself at a couple of council meetings, and she knew Alexis, thanks to her court-ordered community service. (And yes, Alexis was a princess — the type of person you’d see on one of those ridiculous reality shows on basic cable. But she showed up for her community service dates and made some kind of an effort. Plus she was pretty; not Ronnie’s type and way too young for her, but admittedly enjoyable to look at.) Ronnie had even spoken to Moira, the most baffling of the Roses, a couple of times at the café. David, she hadn’t really given much thought to yet.

Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. She’d clocked David as queer right away, and she couldn’t say she was sorry to have another queer resident in Schitt’s Creek. But she’d also assumed he was vain and probably an asshole, and she didn’t have room in her life for assholes. Seeing him at the annual turkey shoot didn’t fit at all into her preconceived notion about him.

The way he handled a gun, that fit into her preconceived notion about him. Still, he was trying, and she had to give him credit for that. Ronnie took pity on him and helped with his grip on the gun so that the recoil wouldn’t knock him flat. And when he shot his first turkey in the neck and had to watch it slowly die, she did feel sorry for him, patting his back to commiserate.

When they paused for a break in the early afternoon, Ronnie took it upon herself to bring David a beer. He accepted the bottle with a poorly-restrained grimace. “Thanks.” His voice was quiet, the edges from earlier filed off.

“How did Stevie talk you into this, anyway?” Ronnie asked. “Doesn’t seem like your scene.”

He looked down his nose at her. “How’d you guess?”

She just raised an eyebrow and waited.

David huffed. “I don’t know. Stevie asked me, and there had been this bug thing, and… I figured if I said no, it would just confirm her assumption that I have no practical skills. And… I don’t know. She’s been a… friend… to me. So.”

Ronnie nodded, impressed with his openness. Maybe it was brought on by the trauma of killing a turkey, but it was openness nonetheless.

“Plus, I had nothing better to do,” David added.

Ronnie clinked her beer bottle against his. “Fair enough.”

Ronnie couldn’t help being curious when word got around that David was starting to get things set up inside the general store, that maybe he’d be opening his new store soon, although no date had been announced. There was a lot of buzz around town about it — Brenda had been telling anyone who would listen that David Rose was a fan of the moisturizer she made at home and would be selling it under his label. If Ronnie was honest, Brenda was getting a little too excited about it given that the store hadn’t even opened yet.

Still, when Ronnie came out of the café one afternoon and saw a sign painter starting to work on the windows outside, she wandered over to have a look.

She tapped on the door, waiting until David looked up and beckoned before she went in.

Already, she could see David’s mark on the space. All the metal shelving from the old general store was gone, replaced by wood furniture that gave the store a much more upscale look. David was busy sticking labels onto bottles in the middle of the room, his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on his task.

“Hi, Ronnie,” he said, his eyes darting around nervously. “Are you here to revoke my business license?”

She laughed. “I don’t have that kind of power.” Sticking her hands in her back pockets, Ronnie rocked on her heels. “I just wanted to get a look at the place.”

David gestured around. “Here it is. There’s a lot to do still.”

She looked around at all the boxes of products, at the empty shelves left to fill. “You don’t have any help?”

“Oh, I do, actually? Not at the moment, but I have a… I guess I have a business partner now?” A furtive smile flickered on his face. “Not officially, yet. But I will have a business partner.”

Ronnie raised her eyebrows. “Who?”

“Um, Patrick Brewer? He works with Ray right now, but—”

“That guy? Isn’t he brand new in town?” Gwen just so happened to have introduced her to Patrick last week as the newest player on the Café Tropical baseball team.

David shrugged. “I guess.”

“And so you trust him to help you run your business… why exactly?” Ronnie had gotten the impression of a hypercompetitive bro type, what little of Patrick had caught her attention during the game. She hadn’t been impressed.

David’s eyes widened. “Because!” She stared at him and waited for him to elaborate. “Because he knows about taxes and grant money and food product licenses and I don’t know about any of those things.”

“So you’re going to entrust your business to him,” Ronnie said flatly, shaking her head. “Isn’t that exactly the kind of trust that led to your family losing all your money?”

“Patrick’s not going to embezzle money from me,” David said with an eye roll. “For one thing, I don’t really have any money for him to embezzle. And for another, he’s not that kind of person.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.” David huffed, flailing his hands around. “Now can you please stop trying to give me more things to be anxious about? Believe me, I’m anxious enough as it is.”

“Okay.” She sighed. David was like an innocent lamb in some ways, she thought, and not just because of his fuzzy sweaters.

“Look, I know the town council would have preferred Christmas World, but—”

“Oh, that was mainly Bob and Roland,” Ronnie said. And Moira, it had to be said, but she wasn’t about to mention that to David in case he didn’t already know. “Personally, I think year-round Christmas stores are tacky.”

“Thank you.”

“Whereas this place looks like it’s gonna be…” She scanned the room again. Somehow it seemed brighter than it ever had under the previous owners. Maybe it was just that the windows were clean. “Really nice. Classy.”

David gave her a charming, lopsided smile. “That’s the plan.”

“Where the hell is Bob?” Ronnie said, looking at her watch. The sooner they got this council meeting started, the sooner she could get on with her day.

“Robert does seem to have a rather dégagé relationship with the clock, doesn’t he?” Moira said, flipping the page on the book she was reading.

“How late is David’s store open?” Roland asked. “Jocelyn wanted me to pick up a couple of things on my way home.”

“I’m afraid I don’t monitor the hours of my son’s place of business, Roland,” Moira said with a bored sigh.

Roland leaned back and put his feet on the desk. “I mean, assuming they aren’t making a habit of closing early so they can get up to some hanky-panky in the back room,” he said with a snicker. And then when no one commented, he added more directly, “Twyla told me David and Patrick are an item.”

Moira finally looked up. “Are you asking me to gossip about my own son’s romantic liaisons?”

Roland was undeterred. “Just curious if the rumours are true.”

“I’m not sure which rumours you speak of, but yes, I understand that David’s relationship with his business partner has grown into an affair de coeur.”

“So you are going to gossip about it then,” Ronnie said, her chin resting on her hand.

“I shall give no further details, Veronica,” Moira said, going back to her book.

Ronnie didn’t give it any more thought until she saw David in the café a few days later. She was lingering over her breakfast at the counter when David came in and ordered a coffee and a tea to go from Twyla.

“How’s the store, David?” Ronnie asked when Twyla went to make the drinks.

“It’s… great, actually. People seem to want to buy the things we sell, which is nice.”

“Well, that is sort of the whole point of owning a store.” She hesitated, unsure if she should say anything else, but then she figured, what the hell. “The scuttlebutt around town is that you and you and your business partner are more than business partners.”

“Oh, so people are talking about us,” David said with a frown.

Ronnie shrugged. “It’s a small town and there’s not much else for people to do. You know how it is.”

He looked insulted at the idea that he would know how it is.

“It’s an awful lot to share with one person, David,” she said, because she’d been there before, when she was young. Madly in love and certain that she’d found the one, the stereotypical U-Haul lesbian, moving too fast and getting her heart broken. She’d learned the hard way.

“Are you giving me relationship advice?” His head moved a complicated dance on the end of his neck, somehow expressing his anxiety better than his words ever could.

“I’m saying that getting involved with the person who you have to run a business with can get messy when things don’t work out.”

His eyes flickered down to his shoes. “I know. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I fuck it up.”

“So sure that you’re going to be the one to fuck it up?” she asked, feeling that same protectiveness that he’d always engendered in her for some reason.

“Well Patrick isn’t going to be the one to fuck it up, he’s… perfect, basically?”

Him? she wanted to ask. Instead she said, “Nobody’s perfect.”

Twyla brought over David’s to-go cups.

“Just… be careful, that’s all I’m saying,” Ronnie said, accepting the check from Twlya and pulling out her wallet to pay.

“I will,” David said softly. “I mean, I am.” But she could tell that he was already a goner, his cheeks flushed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He also pulled his wallet from his pocket, handing over some cash to Twyla. “He’s… new at this. Being with a man,” David said, so quietly that she almost didn’t catch the words.

“Oh, boy,” Ronnie said, because she’d been down that road too. She’d been an experiment to a few girls who later decided they weren’t really all that bisexual after all. She’d been forced back into the closet by girlfriends who weren’t ready to be out. All of it sucked. She guessed David had been through his share of those kinds of relationships too.

Fighting every aloof instinct she had, Ronnie put a hand on David’s arm. “If you ever want to talk, I’m around. You can give me a call.”

David looked as surprised by this moment of tenderness as Ronnie herself was. “Thanks, Ronnie.”

“Any time, David.”

Ronnie was on her third whiskey when David and Stevie arrived at the Wobbly Elm.

David was wincing as they joined her at the bar. “I hope my partner hasn’t driven you to drink, Ronnie.”

Ronnie glared at him. As if she cared enough about Patrick Brewer for anything he did to drive her to drink. “I finished the bathroom when I said I would, didn’t I?”

David held his hands up in surrender. “The bathroom is beautiful, Ronnie. The calligraphy workshop last night went off without a hitch.”

“Glad to hear it,” she muttered, her drink back at her lips.

“Will you shut up about the damn bathroom, David? We’re here to drown my sorrows, remember?” Stevie said, poking him in the chest. “Go get us drinks.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, moving down the bar to get the bartender’s attention.

“Drown your sorrows?” Ronnie asked.

Stevie sighed. “The guy I was seeing turned out to be an asshole: the Stevie Budd story.”

“Mm.” Ronnie took another sip of her whiskey. “I’d say the problem is men, but my love life hasn’t been much better lately,” she said just as David rejoined them.

“I thought you were with… what’s her name? The gravel lady,” David said.

“Karen,” Stevie said at the same time that Ronnie said, “We split up.”

“I’m sorry, Ronnie,” Stevie said, lifting her hand as if she was going to touch Ronnie’s back, and then wisely thinking better of it and dropping her hand back to the bar.

Ronnie shrugged. “It happens.”

“Wow, this has, like, never happened to me,” David said.

Stevie narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I’ve never been the one with the successful relationship in a group of people at a bar like this. I’m always the one crying into my martini.”

“Shut the fuck up, David,” Stevie said.

“Does that sound like a thing you should be saying to us right now?” Ronnie asked, her voice going high with indignation.

“Just for that, you’re buying the next round too,” said Stevie.

“Okay.” David said, biting his lip. “Sorry.”

***

“And so apparently a casual fuck is all I was good for,” Stevie said before drawing more pot smoke into her lungs. She and David sat on the hood of Stevie’s car at the far end of the Wobbly Elm parking lot. Ronnie stood beside them, holding herself steady using the car’s side mirror and sharing a joint with these children because apparently that was how low she had sunk.

“That’s bullshit, Stevie,” David said, taking the joint from between Stevie’s thumb and finger.

“Well, you’d know,” Stevie said.

“That’s exactly it, though,” he replied before pausing to hold the smoke in. “It’s because you are such an excellent person in other ways that it would have been a mistake to ruin it with sex,” David said in a long exhale before passing the joint to Ronnie. “Or, with more sex, I mean.”

“Maybe I’m also bad at sex,” Stevie said.

“You are definitely not bad at sex. You’re great at sex,” David said.

“Really?” Stevie asked.

David nodded. “Yep. Yes.”

“You’re great at it too, David.”

“Uhhh, yeah. Of course I am.”

“I am getting such a fascinating window into your relationship,” Ronnie said as she passed the joint back to Stevie.

“I bet you’re great at sex too, Ronnie,” David said.

“Damn right I am.”

“Stevie and I tried the friends with benefits thing a long time ago,” David explained, the marijuana freeing his tongue. “And although we’re better off as friends and I’m very much in love with Patrick, that doesn’t stop me from seeing that you are the whole package, Stevie Budd, and if Emir didn’t see that then he can suck a bag of dicks.”

Stevie laughed wildly.

“Same goes for Gravel Karen,” David said, gesturing up and down at Ronnie.

“Uh huh,” Ronnie said impassively, although deep down she was pleased.

Stevie’s head dropped until her chin touched her chest. “I’m gonna have to leave my car here. We should call a cab.”

It occurred to Ronnie that she wasn’t anywhere near sober enough to drive either. She was out of practice at this whole going out and drinking in bars thing, and she was even more out of practice with this smoking pot thing. “I’m too old for this,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll call Patrick,” David said, fumbling for his phone. “He’ll pick us up.”

Which was how twenty minutes later, Ronnie found herself climbing into the back seat of Patrick Brewer’s Toyota next to Stevie, who immediately let her head fall onto Ronnie’s shoulder. David was planting a sloppy kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek in the front seat, making Patrick wipe the saliva off his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Wow, you guys reek of pot smoke,” Patrick said, looking at Ronnie with his stupid Bambi-eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Just drive, Brewer,” Ronnie said.

“Straight men are the worst,” Stevie murmured. “Why do I bother with them?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, honey,” Ronnie said, petting Stevie’s hair.

“So they tell me I have you to thank for all the extra flowers,” David said, sinking into a chair next to Ronnie as she put a forkful of wedding cake in her mouth. She caught a flash of his inner thigh before he crossed his legs, and while Ronnie had no interest in the male half of the species, she’d have to be dead not to appreciate David Rose in that skirt and those boots.

“Well, it was the least I could do,” she said after she’d swallowed her bite of cake. “You deserved a nice day.”

“And you and the Jazzagals learned our song,” David said with one of his lopsided smiles, a glass half-full of champagne dangling carelessly in one hand. “You, Ronnie Lee, stood in a room full of people and sang the song that Patrick sang to me at the first open mic.”

“That was Jocelyn’s idea,” Ronnie said with a frown. “I had to go along with the group.”

David elbowed her. “Come on. Admit it. You don’t totally hate Patrick. You like him a little bit.”

She was going to admit no such thing. “I don’t hate that he makes you happy. I don’t understand what you see in him, but I’m glad that you’re so happy.” And then she felt tears welling up again, as if it wasn’t bad enough that she had cried during the ceremony. She fervently hoped no one had seen her wiping away tears.

He grinned more widely, so she guessed she’d given him a satisfactory answer. Ronnie looked over at the dance floor, where David’s husband was currently dancing with his sister-in-law.

“I hear you’re buying the place out on O’Beirn Road,” she said.

He nodded, his face positively glowing with happiness now. “I’ve been admiring that cottage from afar for years. We’ll be moving in next month.”

“A place like that, it might need some work done. I trust you’ll come to me first if you need a contractor?” She took another bite of cake. It was delicious cake, moist and citrusy, and she savored the bite on her tongue.

“Of course we will. I have some ideas for the kitchen, although we might have to wait a year or two until there’s enough money to do justice to my vision.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to do anything that didn’t do justice to your vision.” She ate some more cake and watched David watching Patrick until she couldn’t stand it any more. “Ugh, your heart eyes are giving me a stomachache. Go dance.”

David held his hand out to her. “Come dance with me, Ronnie.”

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and took his hand and let herself be pulled out onto the dance floor.

+1.

Ronnie had almost dozed off at her desk in Town Hall when he came in.

“Patrick Brewer,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “Shouldn’t you be off on a honeymoon somewhere?”

He approached her nervously, his hands clutched together in front of him like a supplicant. “We decided to hold off on the honeymoon until we could afford to go somewhere really nice.”

“It’s not time to renew your permits for the store already, is it?”

“Nope. I’m here about council, actually,” he said.

“Public meetings are the second and fourth Tuesdays of every month,” she said, leaning back and putting her feet up on the desk.

“Okay, but I was more curious about the open council seat. With Mrs. Rose gone.”

“There’ll be an election to fill the seat,” she said, her feet thunking back down to the floor. “Why?”

“I, um… was thinking about running.” He chuckled nervously. “To keep it in the Rose family, I guess.”

“Assuming you’d win,” she said. “That’s presumptuous.”

“Is anyone else running?” he asked, a little of his usual, annoying self-confidence showing through.

Ronnie sighed. “Not yet.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that really the reason you want to run? To keep it in the family?”

Patrick cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter. “No. Since we’re settling here pretty much permanently, I’ve been thinking about other ways I might be able to contribute to Schitt’s Creek. I have ideas about bringing more business to downtown. And David and I have gotten to know several of the farmers in the area, selling their products in the store, so I hear a lot about their concerns.”

Ronnie stared at him for another few seconds, and then opened a file drawer, pulling out a form. “You’ll need to fill this nomination form out and get five signatures to support your nomination,” she said, pointing at the blank spaces on the form. “Think you can do that?”

Patrick took the nomination form from her. “Do I think I can get five people to sign my nomination form?” he said, sounding a little bit testy. “Yes, I think I can manage that.”

“You’re a real joiner, aren’t you?” she asked, hand propped up on her hand. “Baseball, community theater, town council… next you’ll be joining the curling club.”

He smirked. “I would, but it interferes with my hockey practice. Besides, Ronnie, you do all those things. Plus the Jazzagals. I’d say it takes a joiner to know one.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Tell you what,” she said, reaching for the form. When he handed it back to her, she signed on the first nomination line. “I’ll give you your first signature.”

Taking the form back, Patrick gave her a bemused look. “I figured I’d be the last person you’d want filling the empty seat on council.”

She shrugged. “Not the last person…”

“Okay, thanks,” he said with an eye roll, turning to leave.

“I’m looking forward to hearing your ideas,” she called, making him stop and turn back. “And if you win, I’m looking forward to kicking your ass on a regular basis, just like I do in baseball.” And then Ronnie laughed, loud and long.

“Good to talk to you too, Ronnie,” Patrick said, headed back toward the door.

She was still laughing. “Say hi to your husband for me!”

#schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #david x patrick fic #david x patrick ff #my fic

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youngbloodinitiative · 4 years

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Creative Creatures - Rosie Gibbens

Video still from “Domestic Bliss”. Filmed by Alessia Palombo

Turning our heads to London where we have a hub since 2016, Candy is having a conversation with artist Rosie Gibbens for the next Creative Creatures.

Rosie Gibbens is a graduate from an MA in Contemporary Art Practice at the Royal College of Art and a BA in Performance Design and Practice at Central Saint Martins. In her performances, videos and sculptural installations she uses absurdity to explore issues around consumerist desire, gender performativity and sexual politics, questioning socially constructed rules about how to behave through art that is simultaneously silly and serious.

Candy: Hi Rosie, how are you doing in lockdown London? I saw that a few of your scheduled performances were postponed, which is a bummer. It’s lovely to have you here with us though.

Rosie: I’m doing fine thank you. I’m getting used to the change in pace and enjoying making artwork with no deadlines.

Candy: That doesn’t sound so bad! It has been a while since we met when I started YBI London. I remember looking at your piece “ironing” back then, and I really liked it - it transformed a simple and seemingly mundane domestic task. I don’t know if I said it back then, but I am quite drawn by the aesthetics, the hue of the video and the set up. A few years have passed, I noticed your works evolved a lot! Although your love of using everyday, domestic objects is still there. What draws you to them? Are they still ‘re-purposed’ in your works as you said? And why do you use them to subvert learnt behaviours?

Rosie: I think it was four years ago that we met. That was one of the first videos I made. It included an ironing board with an electric guitar embedded into it, so that the strings could be ‘played’ with an iron. I remember wanting to use only pastels for that video, so that the loud jarring sound would contrast with the slightly cute visuals. Aesthetic choices have always been important to me and I think about colour and framing quite carefully.

Since then, the fundamental basis of my work has stayed similar. I’m still creating absurd scenes and combining or re-making objects in playful ways. I’m drawn to everyday objects because I’m interested in the ways that we interact with the products surrounding us and how they extend our bodies, modify our movements and define our identities. Using objects differently to their intended function satisfies me because it can expose oddities within mundane life.

vimeo

“Ironing”, filmed by Benjamin Neustadt

Candy: Indeed. Interesting investigation about how they extend our bodies. I could tell that you are highly conscious of the aesthetic choices. It is something that really pleases me when the aesthetics feel right to my eyes. The female body parts also have a dominant presence in your pieces. I see quite some symbols of a stereotypical ‘sexy’ woman: high heels, big red lips, bras with lace. It’s funny because in a sense, this idea of a woman is rather dated, though still prevalent in our society. Do you mean to challenge that with your performances?

Rosie: I’m interested in how these stereotypical symbols of sexiness affect identity construction. I’ve always been drawn to an idealised glamourous femininity despite my understanding of its many problematic aspects. There is a kind of cognitive dissonance in being both attracted to and repelled by items that traditionally fetishise or objectify the body. I think that many girls grow up hyper aware of how they are looked at - it’s a sort of socially induced vanity. My idea of adulthood as a teenager was somehow linked to being sexy and desired. In my work I’m interested in showing absurd failed attempts to live up to this embarrassing and unattainable fantasy of elegance and seduction.

“Dirty Pillows”

Candy: And that is brilliant. Is there a certain point something sparked you to create focusing on the female body?

Rosie: To start with, I was making performances with my own body just because it was free and available. Over time I realised that I had to think more carefully about the associations of using myself as both subject and object in the work. It was a slow build up and a result of using my body more explicitly.

Candy: You mentioned your works take ‘sex sells’ to an illogical conclusion. I am actually also thinking about ‘sex sells’, but in another angle. Do you feel like, by addressing sexual politics, your pieces attract more attention somehow? Especially on social media? Gender politics is a topic as heated as ever. Do you think there is a general ‘need’ for art to address that? When I saw some of your latest works, my immediate response was like ‘Yes! We need something like that. That’s brilliant!’, as if you have expressed some deep down frustrations in me. I am sure I am not alone in that.

Rosie: Thank you, I’m glad! I don’t know whether it attracts more attention online because of sexual politics. I suspect my work is partly popular on social media partly because it often uses visual puns and suits being consumed in images or short clips. Instagram is swimming with different types of self-representation so my posts sometimes respond to this. For example, I have made strange selfies using massive body parts or taken make-up tips from ‘Britain’s sexiest cow’.

Sometimes it can feel a bit frustrating making work within the context of gender politics. I think because I feel expected to say something universal when I’m primarily exploring my own gender identity. I would hate to speak for someone else’s experience because how people move through the world is dependent on so many different factors and privileges. I hope that some people can relate to my own confusions around gender and femininity but there is a need for all different experiences to be heard and addressed in art.

“Carrot and Sticks”. Photo by Jon Baker

Candy: I wonder how the male audience finds your pieces.

Rosie: You’d have to ask them!

Candy: Haha, true that! Visual elements play a key role in your works, you seem to have a strong awareness of colours, shapes and textures and the reactions certain symbols trigger. How do they affect your performances? Do you also see them as an indispensable part of you as an artist?

Rosie: This is probably the bit that I find the most fun about making art. I love choosing textures and colours and often think of these before I work out the actions in a performance. I’m really attracted to shiny fabrics like PVC or satin because, for me, they indicate both medical and fetish wear. I also love animal print because of its changing associations throughout history. I hope that the clean and bright visual language in my work is something that binds different projects together.

“Blinds”. Photo by Manuel Vason Candy: Interesting. I do believe the visual language is impartial in many performance artists’ works, and in some sense, they send out the message even before any actions are performed. Is there an artist who inspired you to be the artist you are today?

Rosie: So many! Performance artists including Bobby Baker, La Ribot and Rebecca Horn influenced me when I was starting to make art. Now I’m most inspired by contemporary artists like Rebecca Moss, Sophie Jung and Laure Prouvost.

Candy: Apart from the visual elements, I noticed that you also played quite a bit with other senses like sound and scent. I find the sound element especially powerful in one of your recent pieces “Domestic Bliss”. I absolutely love it. The sound alone could be a stand alone piece by itself. I am curious to know more about this installation - how it comes together, the choice of the domestic objects and having a strong sonic presence.

Rosie: Domestic Bliss was made in 2017 using actions developed for different performances before that. I wanted the video to look vaguely like a toothpaste or face cream advert because I was interested in the way that bodies are used to demonstrate or advertise products. I was also intrugued by the Freudian definition of a fetish - where objects are used as distractions for the cis female lack of penis due to male castration fear. The actions in the video use objects to replace sexual anatomy in a humorous and slightly violent way and so I was hoping to ridicule this outdated, misogynist concept.The sound was a secondary aspect which I think works well because it’s a sort of clinical, menacing noise.

vimeo

“Domestic Bliss”. Filmed by Alessia Palombo

Candy: It certainly adds intensity to the piece. What about the soundscape made from children’s toys and amplified dildos from “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman”? Unfortunately I didn’t get to see the performance. How did that come about? Did you create the soundscape yourself?

Rosie: I was asked by DATEAGLE ART to make a performance for their show ‘Recreational Grounds’ in an unused underground car park so I wanted to use a remote control car and other children’s car toys. The scale between myself and these toys reminded me of the poster for the film ‘Attack of the 50 Foot Woman’ where the protagonist picks up cars from the city with her massive body. The woman is both sexy and monstrous. I wanted to embody the alienation of this character and the way she confusedly interacts with the tiny world around her.

I amplified the sounds of the toys using small microphones which made a messy electronic noise. I was imagining it was the sound of the city she’s destroying.

vimeo

Moment from ‘Attack of the 50 Foot Woman’

Candy: Fascinating! This story gives me so much to imagine. Do you feel like absurdity is the best cure in this surreal time? Like Dadaism after WWI.

Rosie: I’m not sure if it’s a cure but for me it’s an appropriate way to interpret a confusing world. A kind of bewildered befuddlement is present in all my favourite artwork. However, to make real change we need good direct activism. Good art is often more ambiguous.

Candy: Good point. Art and activism is actually a subject YBI has been actively investigating, it’s interesting that you mentioned that good art tends to be more ambiguous and to make real change there needs to be more direct activism. We would have to save this big subject for the next interview sadly! So what is next for you? Is there going to be a new core in your works after domestic objects and the female body?

Rosie: I’ve been moving away from domestic things over the last couple of years and started to hand make objects to interact with in performances. These are made using fabric, often printed with photographs of body parts. At the moment I feel inclined to remove myself from the work. I’m hoping that I can make some performances involving no humans, with objects interacting with one another like puppets or maybe operated by animals...

Candy: Looking forward to seeing what is coming next. Did this corona crisis give you new inspirations?

Rosie: Because I’ve had no performances coming up, I have been making 2D work for the first time in a few years. I have fallen in love with drawing again and am sewing together applique banners with coloured fabric. I’ve also been experimenting with green screen keying. I hope to make a new film where green paint on the skin becomes a portal to absurd goings on inside the body.

Candy: Exciting. I would love to talk to you so much more about your performance works and inspirations, but unfortunately we don’t have all day! Thank you for joining me in this conversation, Rosie. Looking forward to seeing your new works!

Rosie: Thank you!

Rosie Gibbens http://www.rosiegibbens.com

Young Blood Initiative http://www.youngbloodinitiative.com

#performance art #art installation #contemporary art #absurd #london #london artist #rca

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