#tijela talks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dickwheelie · 3 years

Text

okay so the other day this gorgeous comic by @tijela crossed my dash and I couldn’t stop thinking about a sequel to it where Jon and Martin actually get to go on their date. so. this is that. set sometime nebulously in season 3. also there is ace jontent (jon content) because against my better judgment I absolutely refuse to shut up about jon being ace. anyway I love you (yes, you) enjoyyyyy

___________

It’s only two minutes after nine in the morning when Jon appears in the doorway of Martin’s cubicle, holding two steaming mugs in his hands. Martin pauses in the act of taking off his coat, eyes wide, and for a moment all they do is stare at each other.

“I—brought you tea,” says Jon at last, as though it’s something he does for Martin every morning. He makes a strange kind of abortive movement with his arm, half-offering one of the mugs. What is happening, thinks Martin. And why is it happening before I’ve even switched my laptop on.

He decides to roll with it. “Thanks,” he says, keeping his voice carefully neutral, as he sits down at his desk and takes one of the mugs. Jon’s hand shakes almost imperceptibly as he passes it over. Martin takes a sip. It isn’t very good. He smiles at Jon anyway. “Ta,” he says again.

Jon doesn’t appear as though he heard him. His brow is furrowed, distractedly, and Martin notices that he doesn’t even drink from his own mug before setting it down on the edge of Martin’s desk. A twinge of anxiety lances through him. “Alright, Jon?”

Jon’s eyes snap to his, and his expression softens. “Yes. Um. Well. Not entirely.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, and he looks it, tired and frayed at the edges as he always does these days, but there’s a softness in his eyes and regret in his lines of his face. “About what happened yesterday—I am so, so sorry, Martin. I let my guard down and I shouldn’t have . . . compelled you—”

Martin shakes his head. “It’s alright.” He’d just as soon put the whole thing behind him; being rejected is embarrassing enough on its own, never mind the rest of it. “You . . . you didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Jon says, insistent.

“I—yeah. I know,” Martin sighs. It’s too early for this.

“And . . . I. Um. I would, actually.”

Martin pauses with the mug halfway to his mouth, and blinks up at Jon. “You would . . . what?”

“I . . . I would be happy to go out with you.”

Jon’s posture is ramrod straight, as it so rarely is, as though this is a speech he’s been rehearsing for.

“Oh! Um.” As the words sink in, Martin feels heat rise to his cheeks. He puts the mug down. “Really?”

Jon nods, once. “Yes.” Some of the confidence leaves his voice. “I-If you still want to, that is. Of course I—I understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I—or I mean, yeah, I’m . . . I’d love to, yeah.” At least it’s good to know that they’re both being articulate.

“Oh.” Jon looks genuinely relieved. “Good, then.”

Martin’s about to say something resembling a thank you, when Jon barrels onward.

“I was thinking we could get dinner.” Then, almost apologetically: “Is that alright?”

Martin would laugh if the whole thing wasn’t making him blush. “O-Okay. Yeah. Sure. Sounds good. When are you . . . ?”

“Tomorrow is Friday, yes?”

“Yeah,” Martin says, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Then . . . tomorrow night? A-After work? Or—” Jon winces slightly, slowing down. “I-It doesn’t have to be right after work. Would seven o’clock be alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s . . . that’s good for me.”

“Okay.” And Jon smiles, just the tiniest bit. “Okay, yes. Seven on Friday. For dinner. I’ll send you the details.”

“Sure.” Martin allows himself a grin, around the rim of the mug, and flashes Jon what he hopes is an appealing glance. “See you then, Jon.”

“Yes. Alright.” Jon stands there, staring at him for a second more, then turns around on his heel and disappears down the hallway.

It takes half an hour before Martin can actually focus enough to start work. It takes another full hour after that for Martin to notice that Jon forgot to take his mug of tea with him.

***

Jon taps his water glass pensively as he waits for Martin to arrive. The restaurant he’s invited Martin to is an Italian place in central London that Jon has never stepped foot in before today, but it seems romantic enough, with candles at every table and soft music playing in the background and lighting that makes reading the menu a chore, even with his reading glasses on. The table for two he’s reserved is minuscule, which he supposes must be a good thing. For . . . some reason.

He’s nervous. Which is ridiculous, given his life, but there it is. It feels less like a first date than it should; he knows Martin so well, and cares for him, and trusts him, but still, there’s that nagging anxiety. He just really doesn’t want to mess this up more than he already has.

Jon isn’t sure what he’s expecting Martin to look like when he arrives at the restaurant. He knows he’ll look nice, of course; Martin always looks nice, with his ties tucked neatly into his soft-looking sweaters, with his hair, and his smile . . . Jon gives himself a shake and stares daggers at the drink menu. He, himself, has worn one of the nicest outfits he owns, which he imagines is doing little to combat the bags under his eyes and the numerous scars. Still, he’s made an attempt with his hair, and traded in his usual square frames for horn-rimmed spectacles that, he’s been told, look nice on him.

When Martin shows up, though, fashionably late where Jon had been a quarter of an hour early for their reservation, he puts Jon to shame. He’s wearing a pale blue suit, with a lightly-patterned button-up that Jon can’t quite make out in the restaurant’s dim light, his hair nicely coiffed, his earrings catching the light and sparkling with every step. He approaches the small table where Jon can only sit and stare, already mumbling an apology for making Jon wait, and even after everything that’s happened Jon’s still incapable of filtering himself, so he says, “You look lovely.”

Martin beams at him as he pulls out the chair across from Jon and sits down. Inwardly, Jon winces; he should probably have offered to pull it out for him, shouldn’t he. “Thanks, Jon,” Martin says, happily. He gives Jon a once-over, but in an admiring way, which is not an experience Jon has had in a very, very long time. “You don’t look so bad, yourself.”

“Ah,” Jon says, “thank you,” and he dives back into the menu before Martin can notice that he’s blushing.

They make small talk as best they can, avoiding any topics relating to fears, until a waiter comes by. Neither of them want wine, as it turns out, Martin because of the tannins and Jon because he wants to maintain every bit of control he has to not say or do anything stupid that could ruin all of this.

As they wait for their food, Martin looks askance at Jon’s right hand, squinting curiously. Jon glances down, and his stomach sinks; he’d forgotten he was wearing it. It’s his ace ring, the simple black band he wears outside of work, when he can remember where he’s left it last. He’d put it on earlier in a fit of unearned confidence when he’d seen how his hair looked, and now he’s paying the price.

“Is that—?”

“Yes,” Jon sighs, twisting it around on his finger instinctively. “My ace ring.”

“Didn’t know you had one. I’ve never seen you wear it around the office.” Martin’s voice is soft and uninquisitive, offering Jon the option to drop the topic.

Jon doesn’t take it, because again, he lost his filter sometime in the nineties and he’s never gotten it back. “Yes, well, it’s a bit . . . unprofessional, isn’t it.”

Martin shrugs, his earrings swinging with the motion. “I mean, not really. Tim and I have pride stickers on our laptops and stuff. And—now I think of it, you do too, Jon.” Martin huffs a laugh, but the way he looks at Jon, he can tell it isn’t at his expense. “I don’t get why this is any different.”

“I—you—” Jon flounders for a moment before giving up. “You make a compelling argument. But—I don’t know. The ring feels . . . different.” His voice weakens slightly, along with his resolve. “Somehow.”

“More personal,” Martin says, softly.

“Yes.” Jon’s chest grows warm. “Yes, that’s . . . that’s exactly it.”

“I get it. I mean, I’m not ace, but—I get it.” Martin runs his thumb along the rim of his water glass. “Took me a long time to get that trans sticker up on my laptop.”

Jon nods. There’s a beat of silence, and then Martin leans forward in his chair slightly. They’re already in pretty close quarters, and in the candlelight, Jon can almost count Martin’s freckles.

Martin inches his hand toward Jon’s. “Can I . . . ?”

Jon really hopes his blush isn’t visible, but his luck has never been the best. “Um . . . yes. I-If you want to.”

Slowly, like he’s trying not to scare him off, Martin takes Jon’s hand in his, dwarfing it in his broad palm and wide fingers. The contrast, Jon thinks for a strange moment, is beautiful.

Almost immediately, Martin startles. “Jeez, Jon, your hand is so cold,” he says, and he takes both of Jon’s hands between his, rubbing warmth back into them. Jon’s hands, in fact, had been rather cold, though he hadn’t noticed until now, and they’re certainly not cold anymore, along with Jon’s face and chest, which are rapidly warming up by extension.

He manages to get out, “Ah—sorry. I, um, have bad circulation.”

“Don’t apologize,” Martin says, almost absentmindedly, still staring down at their hands. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Jon wants to protest, and probably ruin the mood by bringing up topics that shouldn’t be discussed on a date, but at that moment Martin looks back up at him, meeting his eyes with a smile that makes him look even lovelier. “I like it,” says Martin, out of nowhere. Jon blinks at him. “Your ring.” He holds up Jon’s hand for him, demonstratively. “It looks right on you. It fits. You know?”

“Ah. Thank you,” Jon says. It doesn’t feel like the right thing to say, but he can’t find any other words, at the moment. He feels . . . he’s not sure what he’s feeling. His chest feels a bit full, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Martin is casually glancing around the restaurant, as though he isn’t actively taking Jon apart piece by smitten piece. “This place is posh,” he says. “You come here often?”

“All the time,” Jon says, mustering up some humor. “I’m only in the head archivist business for the salary.”

That makes Martin laugh, at least. “Thanks for asking me out, by the way,” he says.

“Oh,” Jon says, and his hands are still warmly pressed between Martin’s own, and he can see now that Martin’s shirt is dotted with tiny sunflowers, and for a moment he has no idea why Martin is the one thanking him. “Well, you, ah . . . sort of beat me to it.”

Martin laughs. “I mean, sort of.”

“It’s the thought that counts, anyway,” Jon says, borderline nonsensically, grasping at well-worn words and phrases, because it’s all starting to sink in now that he’s on a date with Martin, and it’s going well.

It’s at that moment that their food arrives, and Martin has to let go of his hands, but the warmth remains for a good long while afterwards.

The rest of the date is, as much as Jon has come to both loathe and cherish the word over the past two years, uneventful. Nothing is ruined, not even a tablecloth, and Martin seems genuinely, actually happy in Jon’s company, and Jon feels calmer and safer than he’s felt in a long, long time. They walk back to the Tube station hand in hand, and even in the chill autumn air, Jon feels absolutely warmed down to his bones.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes #oh this is longgg #it's 2k if ur wondering if u wanna read this now or wait till later #i didn't mean for it to be this longggggg #but here it issssss

379 notes · View notes

mentalnahigijena · 3 years

Photo

Morbidni Vučić užasnuo javnost, na Pink došao sa snimkom ubojstva: ‘Ovo ovdje je tranširano ljudsko meso‘ Predsjednik Srbije u udarnom terminu na najgledanijoj televiziji javnosti je prezentirao grozomorne trenutke Nekoliko dana nakon što je srbijanski ministar unutarnjih poslova Aleksandar Vulin tijekom gostovanja na TV Pink gledateljima političkog talk showa u udarnom terminu pokazivao fotografije obezglavljenih ljudskih tijela, za koje je tvrdio da su navodne žrtve osumnjičenog vođe kriminalnog klana Veljka Belivuka zvanog Velja Nevolja, u subotu navečer novu morbidnu epizodu u udarnom terminu istog TV kanala, inače najgledanijeg u Srbiji, priredio je sam predsjednik države Aleksandar Vučić. Kako javlja televizija N1, tijekom njegova poduljeg gostovanja prikazivane su snimke ubojstva te fotografije ljudskog mesa uz popratne grozomorne Vučićeve komentare. Prvo je objavljen videozapis iz 2017. godine na kojem se vidi ubojstvo karatista Vlastimira Miloševića, s kojim se povezivao spomenuti Belivuk, ali je na sudu oslobođen. Snimku je zabilježila nadzorna kamera na jednom beogradskom hotelu, a na njoj se vidi sam čin brutalne likvidacije, ali ne i lice ubojice koji je u Miloševića pucao, a zatim otrčao u sporednu ulicu. - Mi govorimo o sukobu dva klana, pri čemu ovaj mladić nema veze sa tim, on je ni kriv ni dužan ubijen. Govorimo o nečemu što je uvezeno iz Crne Gore. Riječ je o sukobu dva klana: škaljarskom i kavačkom. S jedne strane su bili Dedović i Vukotić, a sa druge Zvicer, a kasnije i kompletna Belivukova ekipa. Ovaj događaj je važan, jer on predstavlja za nas prvi problem veliki, rekao je Vučić nastojeći konstruirati kontekst u kojemu mu je palo na pamet ovakve užase prikazivati građanima, a sve nakon što je ovog tjedna objelodanjen Belivukov iskaz pred tužiteljima koji Vučića silno kompromitira. Kao što smo izvijestili, istraživački portal KRIK je objavio da je Belivuk, uhićen prije nekoliko mjeseci zbog sumnje u čitav niz brutalnih ubojstava, negirao optužbe za likvidacije, ali je progovorio o svojim osobnim relacijama sa samim Vučićem, što je srbijanski predsjednik gnjevno zanijekao najavljujući da će se ubrzo obratiti naciji sa svojom istinom o Belivuku, a čini se da je početak tog obraćanja bio upravo sinoćnji horor na Pinku. Nakon snimke ubojstva karatista Miloševića, u emisiji je prikazana i fotografija na kojoj se, prema Vučićevim navodima, nalazilo 'tranširano ljudsko meso'. - Ovo što ljudi mogu vidjeti je tranširano ljudsko meso. ‘Blurana’ je glava, da ne bi moglo da se vidi o kome se radi. Ovo smo učinili samo da biste mogli vidjeti s kakvim monstrumima smo imali posla. I ovo nije bio kraj. Oni bi to stavili u mašinu za mljevenje mesa…, objasnio je Vučić koji se zatim ponovno počeo jadati da ga prisluškuju već godinama iako je iznova izbjegao izravno imenom i prezimenom spomenuti onoga na kojeg su se proteklih dana otvoreno kao krivca za to praćenje okomili njegovi tabloidi, a to je ministar obrane Nebojša Stefanović, donedavni ministar policije i visoki stranački funkcionar koji se, nakon što je Vučić režirao staljinističku proceduru iskazivanja nepovjerenja po svim seoskim stranačkim ograncima, povukao sa svih funkcija u SNS-u, ali je zasad ostao u vladi. Umjesto izravne prozivke svog donedavnog najbližeg suradnika, Vučić je pročitao zaključke policajca koji je vodio internu istragu o prisluškivanju. - Na osnovu svog dugogodišnjeg iskustva i radnog mjesta, mišljenja sam da su određene osobe u okviru Uprave krim policije formirala neformalne centre moći, paralelnu sigurnosnu strukturu sačinjenu od povjerljivih i precizno odabranih ljudi, čiji osnovni zadatak nije bio borba protiv kriminala, već stvaranje obavještajne mreže za prikupljanje podataka o predsjedniku Srbije i članovima njegove obitelji, s ciljem koji nadležni organi trebaju tek utvrditi, navodi se u zaključcima koje je pročitao Vučić. Zatim je ponovno govorio o notornom Belivuku, kojem je najavio 'remek-djelo' od optužnice. - Nikada više u Srbiji nitko neće biti nesiguran. Hvala europskim sestrinskim službama koje su nam mnogo pomogle da do toga dođemo, rekao je Vučić najavljujući širenje istrage i na državne službenike navodno povezane s Belivukovim klanom. Patetični zaključak, naravno, nije izostao. - Bit će manji od makovog zrna, jamčim vam životom, mogu mene i ubiti i ništa neće moći promijeniti, Srbija se nikada više neće vratiti u prošlost, zgazit ćemo narko bandu, odsjeći ćemo glavu mafiji, država će pobijediti i naše ulice će biti sigurne za našu djecu, poručio je Vučić. U istom je tonu prije nekoliko dana govorio i Vučićev megafon Vulin. - Znamo koliko su oni opasni i što im je cilj, kazao je o Velji Nevolji i pripadnicima njegova klana te nastavio kako je "osnovni cilj da svojim izjavama bace ljagu na predsjednika Vučića, ali i nas ostale". - To su ubojice spremne na sve, koji pripremaju izjave za javnost kojima nastoje povrijediti prije svega predsjednika Vučića i njegovu obitelj, nastavlja Vulin. On kaže kako zna da će izmišljotinama i lažima ugroziti predsjednika Vučića, i to napadajući njegovu obitelj. Podsjetimo da su Vučićev brat Andrija te sin Danilo često bili viđeni, pa i fotografirani u društvu mnogih ljudi iz beogradskog podzemlja, pa je ovakvim horor showovima očito bitno prevenirati stvari i spriječiti političke skandale. Što se Velje Nevolje tiče, on je u iskazu zbog kojeg je režim evidentno u paničnom pokušaju 'saniranja štete', ispričao da su Vučić i njegovi suradnici tražili od njega više usluga - da kontrolira da se na Partizanovim tribinama ne skandira protiv predsjednika, da zastrašuje one koji su organizirali prosvjede protiv vlasti, osigura mir na Paradi ponosa, ali i da utječe na taksiste da otkažu prosvjede protiv aplikacije za prijevoz „CarGo“, piše u transkriptu Belivukovog saslušanja do kojeg je došao KRIK. Početkom kolovoza očekuje se da Tužiteljstvo za organizirani kriminal podigne optužnicu protiv Belivuka, inače vođe huligansko-kriminalne grupe „Principi“ koja je radila u okviru crnogorskog kavačkog klana, a prije nekoliko godina preuzela je jednu od Partizanovih navijačkih tribina nakon ubojstva prethodnog lidera Aleksandra Stankovića poznatog po nadimku Sale Mutavi. Belivuka se sumnjiči da stoji iza pet brutalnih ubojstava, jednog mučenja i dilanja droge, a za njegov je klan karakteristično to da je godinama imao jake kontakte u državi - prije svega u policiji i politici. jutarnji hr

0 notes

tangoargentinolibertangozagreb · 5 years

Photo

Povodom rođendana Astora Pantaleóna Piazzolle svake godine u Ožujku PIAZZOLLAFEST 22. – 24. OŽUJKA 2019. 🎂 23. Ožujka 2019. 09:00 - 11:00 sati radionica PokreTTango - priprema tijela za ples, esencija pokreta i kretnje argentinskog tanga by Jelena Somogyi. Nakon razgovor i rasprava na kavi. Radionica se ne odražava u parovima. Prijave obavezne do 23. Ožujka. 🍾 On the occasion of the birth of Astor Pantaleon Piazzolla every year in March PIAZZOLLAFEST 22 – 24 MARCH 2019 🌻 Saturday March 23rd, 2019 09:00 - 11:00 workshop PokreTTango - preparing body for dancing, esence of movement by Jelena Somogyi. The workshop is not held in pairs. and motion for tango argentino. Applications required. After discussion, talk and relaxing on coffe. 🎼 http://libertango.eu/piazzollafestzg 💃 A good dancer is one who listens to the music. We dance the music not the steps. Anyone who aspires to dance never thinks about what he is going to do. What he cares about is that he follows the music. You see, we are painters. We paint the music with our feet. - Carlos Gavito 🦋 I still can’t believe that some pseudocritics continue to accuse me of having murdered tango. They have it backward. They should look at me as the saviour of tango. I performed plastic surgery on it. - Astor Piazzolla #tango #ples #tangoargentino #zagreb #argentinskitango #PiazzollaFest #weekender #institutargentinskogtangalibertango #pokrettango #jelenasomogyimaestra #tangoworkshop #tangoweekend #piazzolla #astor #life #lifequotes #radionica #fun

0 notes

hexenloveletters · 5 years

Text

Dear N.

Oh my God, I have no idea how long this letter will be. Hope you bear with me...

This is maybe extra weird but I think me liking Tončićka started with Cluedo. I always chose this character: https://www.cluedofan.com/cards/crToncic_lg.jpg hahah. In my defense, it didn't stop there. I hope she is happy!

I should revisit Cloud Atlas. And novels in general. I am a bit stuck out of my field. But! I started a writing routine and I think the time has come for me to be. Somehow it overlaps with this weird life crisis in which I am a crazy depressed person. But these are short episodes between longer periods of calm. I miss the sea, though.

And when I say I miss the sea, I also mean, you. Jogging EVERYWHERE. The spaces both sharp and blurry. You are my favorite dancer. I am also imagining your new chair following you around. This vision of „gaming” always there to remind you of how everything is so funny that you don't even need irony.

The only pure reaction to „nešto što mi je zapelo za oko” was to dance it (will not post it because I liked how it felt and didn't like how it looked). And after I saw it I started to reflect on how it seems I lost myself a bit in thinking I need to be more intellectual. Today, sorry for the expression, I shit on that. Thank you! It is a perfect birthday present like washing my face (umivanje) with cold water. <3! It is feeling and at the same time overcoming the feeling of: „I was annoyed and I felt the biggest general resistance towards people’s ideas I ever felt”

And I want to ask you something. What is it like to be a judge in a jury? I know opinions are always there, but what is it like to have the power of decision with consequences?

I love how you dance with a pen in your hand. In my LBMStudies we spent a lot of time thinking and exploring whole body connections. It was amazing to discover the possibilities of using full body potential. But, I must admit, I find myself much more attracted to movement which is not that concerned with traveling through but with building a conversation that surprises. This is what I often see in your improvisations: movement that is not happening in perfect conditions and it is not trying to appear as it is so, movement that uses every aspect of the situation as a way to rebel against being used.

The Two in Subotnick movie could be us! “Our piece concerns distance(s).”

This is how I started to write about the choreography of slash-and-burn:

krevetno ispuzavanje je vrlo mliječan pokret – mliječna nuspojava – jako raširiš dlanove kako bi koža zategnula linije iz kojih se proriče. Poljubiš svaki mokro i okruglo, ali kako bi sama sredina dlana ostala neutažena (neutažena žena) -> ovdje društvo zabija čavle. Dok si još na krevetu i ležiš potrbuške, a lopatice migoljavo žuljaju mišiće uokolo, linije iz kojih se proriče ljube se s crtama od parketa. Tragovi svega nalaze se u fugama. Nemoj spavati u sobi s pločicama.

Ako imaš izbora

Tako prostor između rebara (on ne postoji, ali zamisli da si kostur) ostaje hladan.

Usne drhte, trepću. Ne kažu. Tijelo sve više visi prema podu. Ruke su mrtve pod neobičnim kutom. Sve do ramena kojem prepuštaš težinu svijeta kao neki jadni polubog ukliješten između duha (DUHA DUHA DUHA DUHA DUŠA) i tijela koje, (usput budi rečeno) danima nije jelo (postiti se može i od ljudi – nemrs – i ljudi su meso). Preko lica parket ti ljubi tjeme. Ali svi pokreti višenja (viđenja) kreću iz stopala – probaj iz malog prsta – to bi mi bilo najdraže. Mali nožni prst – aktivist – tamo se događaju politički potresi. A ti si zaboravila transparente u snu. Ajde reci nešto jezikom mutavih riba. U horoskopu si vaga te je nužno, krucijalno, da u kukovima izvažeš odnos glave i genitalnih živaca koji završavaju u stopalima. Sutra se probudiš i u horoskopu si tlo. Na tlu si. To je sljedeći i prirodni i logični razvoj događaja i tvog odnosa s prostorom. Do tamo dolaziš naglo. Na tlu si. Tlo se trese. Razaranje koje potječe od zgušnjavanja. Tvoje zgušnjavanja ne potječe od reakcije na tlo, već od pokušaja da mu budeš što sličnija. Ti si mimikrija.

Pažnja ti postaje vidljivo istrzana.

And then I stopped. But TBC. I will try to fictionalize us. Crash and burn us particle by particle........

I will stop now, dear N., because time is running out (I imagine it goes jogging with you). But I will be back (maybe even tomorrow) to talk about my month with Laban and Bartenieff.

Love and miss you like the sea,

p.s. I’m in Pula from 25.-29. in case you are also spending summer there.

0 notes