#(fun fact katya is actually going to be working on a project with me soon and i'm so excited) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

as the stars align (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: Brooke Lynn Hytes is one of Hollywood’s top A-Listers with a reputation for being a diva. Newcomer Vanessa Mateo is fresh off her debut role and already making a splash in the industry. When they get cast as lovers for an oscar-worthy script, their on-screen chemistry is a director’s dream come true. There’s only one problem: they completely, unequivocally and unapologetically cannot stand one another.

More on ao3

Brooke Lynn had barely taken the first sip of her morning coffee when Nina thrusted a pile of paper into her arms.

“As The Stars Align? What the hell is this, Nina?”

“Brooke, you’re such a bad lesbian,” Nina scolded with an eye roll and a chuckle. “It’s Katya Zamolodchikova’s newest script based on her novel about two female astronauts who fall in love. And it’s good.”

Brooke held the script contemplatively, her eyes fluttering over the story outline, fingers flicking through the pages. Despite her brief early morning amnesia, she did know who Katya Zamolodchikova was — everybody did. She was a rare example of an author who had been able to permeate the heteronormative industry with LGBT driven stories, and have her publications be received with both critical and commercial success. Brooke wasn’t usually one for romance novels, but even she had read some of Katya’s works, and she had to admit that they were of surprisingly high quality.

And the lead character description of a woman who was ‘reserved and mysterious’ among other things was undoubtedly perfect for her. From the way Nina was excitedly rambling about that very fact, she was one step away from telling her that the character had been written with Brooke in mind.

“You have to audition, B. They just announced that Michelle Visage is directing and the online buzz is unlike anything I’ve seen for a movie of this scale before. This thing is Oscar-worthy, Brooke, I’m telling you.”

Brooke scoffed, drawing back from her coffee for the first time since Nina had arrived.

“An interracial love story between two women set in space? Yeah, that’s bound to be a hit with all the old, straight, white men in the Academy.” She pushed the script down the long, marble bar the pair sat at in Brooke’s kitchen and got up to refill her coffee. Truthfully, she didn’t care about awards or what a bunch of crusty dudes thought of her in any capacity. But it had been so long since she’d had a project which she was genuinely passionate about — one had not came along since the groundbreaking movies that had made her the star she was. These days, she was established, sure, but the last few years had led her down a hole of constantly being reduced to the trophy wife in male-dominated dramas or the blonde bimbo in vapid heterosexual rom-coms. It would hurt for her to get her hopes up high at the idea of finally landing a role of substance, only to have her dreams dashed at the last minute, once again being overlooked in favour of someone younger or prettier or more talented.

“Who cares about the Academy?” Nina exclaimed, watching exasperatedly as Brooke Lynn flopped back into to the seat opposite her. “This thing is gonna be huge no matter what. If it’s not an awards season candidate, at least it’ll be a box office smash. If it’s not a box office smash, it’ll still be important representation to all the little gay girls and boys who need representation like a lead lesbian character being played by an actual LGBT person. Don’t you wanna be a part of that?”

Brooke smiled softly at Nina, meeting the other woman’s eyes and realising how passionate she was about this. How much she cared. She was straight, but she just got it. It wasn’t that often that Brooke came across a real, ride-or-die ally in show-business, and it was the reason Brooke Lynn had hired her as her manager almost on-sight. It was also part of why Nina was her best friend.

“You got me there, bitch,” Brooke replied with a smirk, chuckling as Nina’s eyes immediately began lighting up and her face broke out into a wide grin. Brooke’s own smile began to falter the more she considered Nina’s point.

“I’m not even, like, out-out though,” she said, her eyes dropping to her hands, which Nina quickly covered with her own. “They deserve better than me.”

“Only because you won’t dignify invasive speculation about your sexuality with an answer, rightfully so by the way, and you’ve never been in a public relationship. You’ll get there.”

“Public? Girl, I’ve never been in a relationship, Period. We’re a long way off from public,” Brooke responded with a sigh. She pulled the script back and began flipping through it again, regretting allowing the conversation to turn this personal.

A few seconds passed without Nina saying anything.

“I know you’re doing that thing with your face again,” Brooke said, before peeking over the top of her script and letting herself take in the inevitable look of concern the other woman was communicating.

“Nina, I’m fine, I promise. That’s not me anyway.”

Nina didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press the issue any further, much to Brooke’s relief.

“Look. I’ll do the audition,” Brooke conceded, and Nina burst out into applause, the prior topic apparently already forgotten.

—

Brooke stood before Katya Zamolodchikova, Michelle Visage, and Asia O’Hara, who she’d previously learned would be serving as an executive producer and casting director on the movie. The audition had gone well.

Or at least that’s what she assumed from the huge, incredibly white, toothy grin Katya was giving her right now, and she knew her characters better than anyone after all. Asia was also displaying an impressed smile, and Michelle’s suspicious, reluctant expression from earlier was long gone.

“Well?” Brooke Lynn prompted as she crossed her arms, trying not to let on how badly she wanted this role. Normal protocol would mean that she wouldn’t find anything out about her chances until days, weeks, maybe even months later, but nothing about this trio struck her as conventional in their ways.

“I fucking love you,” Katya announced, and Brooke was pretty sure that if she had still been drinking her coffee she would’ve choked on it.

“Obviously,” Brooke commented.

“I’m serious, bitch. I want you to do the chemistry read later this week.”

“Who’s the other girl?” Brooke asked, unable to stop curiosity filling her voice.

“Right now, we’re interested in Vanessa Mateo,” Asia said. Brooke had heard the name a lot in certain circles over the last year or so, but she didn’t think she’d seen her in anything or that she would be able to picture what she looked like. She didn’t keep up enough with latest in Hollywood as much as she used to, didn’t have many close friends in the industry, and it was easy for hot topics to escape her attention.

Later that day, once Brooke got home, she tried to find out as much as she could about Vanessa Mateo. She learnt that she was five years younger than her at twenty four, and was Puerto Rican but grew up in Florida. So far, she had only been in one feature length movie — the biggest indie hit of last year which had even captured Brooke Lynn’s attention with its trailer before she had forgotten all about it.

She also discovered that Vanessa was possibly the most beautiful person she had ever seen, and this was coming from a woman who had worked in LA for over fifteen years. She tried not to dwell on that part as she scrolled through her potential co-star’s wikipedia page, her eyes dropping to the ‘personal life’ section, which said that Vanessa had a boyfriend. In fact, she was still dating her college sweetheart, information which Brooke tried to suppress an eye roll at.

Brooke jumped as she was interrupted by the jarring sound of her phone ringtone; Nina had managed to book her in for a chemistry read with Vanessa for the following Tuesday. Regretfully, Brooke closed her browser tabs and pulled her script from her bag, alongside the shiny new copy of Stars Align novel that she had been presented with at the audition. For once, the feeling of dread that usually preceded Brooke’s work reading was replaced by a tentative sense of optimism.

—

Vanessa had passed the first rounds of auditions. She couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t managed to land anything beyond a few minor TV roles here and there since she got her big break last year, and she was beginning to think that maybe she just wasn’t made for the big screen, no matter how many times her friends had reassured her that she was just being dramatic. She still had the chemistry read to go, but the hard part was over.

“Congratu-fucking-lations, Vanjie,” Silky said as soon as she broke the news, her and A’keria immediately engulfing her in a group hug.

“Don’t jump the gun, bitch, they haven’t cast me yet,” Vanessa replied, struggling to hold back her smile anyway.

“Yet being the operative word,” A’keria pointed out. The trio finally shuffled into Vanessa’s studio apartment, Vanessa having been unable to stop herself from spilling to them before they got inside.

“Have you told Matt yet?” Silky asked, her eyebrows raised questionably. Vanessa sighed, her boyfriend having barely crossed her mind the entire day. She knew that it was natural; they were long past the honeymoon phase in their relationship, and she would just have to accept that they weren’t getting the romance they once shared back. Well, it had never quite been passion and fireworks and roses, but it had been sweet. Fun. Matt was always one of her favourite people to spend time with. She couldn’t say the same thing now, even though she still cared for him. But he had gone above and beyond to support her through her rise to fame, and Vanessa knew that she’d never find anyone as genuine as him again. She’d already dealt with the pain of having people befriend her, only to go on to realise that they were simply in it for her new status and money. What she had with Matt was good, she told herself. She loved him.

“I ain’t telling Matt shit until it’s official. And don’t you do it either,” Vanessa warned Silky with a stern look.

Silky pouted, pulling Vanessa onto the couch as A’keria popped open the first bottle she could find and poured them each a glass.

“We’re so proud of you, sis,” A’keria smiled, raising her champagne.

“To Vanessa Vanjie motherfuckin’ Mateo,” Silky exclaimed, clinking their glasses together.

“Y’all are the worst, I swear. They might pick some other hoe still if this Brooke Lynn chick don’t vibe with me.”

“You’re gonna be in a movie with Brooke Lynn Hytes?! Why didn’t you open with that?!” Silky exclaimed.

“Because! What if she doesn’t want it to be me? I heard she only had to audition one time. Clearly, if it comes down to it, it’s her they’re going with, not me.”

“She’ll love you, Vanj, everybody does,” Silky said.

Vanessa sighed. She knew she was getting ahead of herself with this gig, and that she shouldn’t have shared with Silky and A’keria before she knew anything for certain. It was gonna make it even harder to get over the inevitable disappointment, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Silky’s right. Girl, I’m telling you, that’s not what you gotta worry about. If it’s you and Miss Brooke Lynn… good luck, is all I’m saying,” A’keria tutted cryptically.

“She won’t need luck, have you seen Brooke? The bitch is hot,” Silky added unhelpfully.

“Kiki, don’t be vague. The fuck you talking about?” Vanessa asked, determined to grill A’keria for all she knew about her potential future co-star.

“Well, you know what people say. She’s just a bit of a diva, ice-queen type. You know what, ignore me, it’s probably just some kind of sexist fuckery anyway.”

Vanessa didn’t know what to think. She had seen Brooke in a few things — mostly stuff from years ago that made her a household name — but she knew little about the woman who had brought all of those characters to life. All that she knew was that Brooke Lynn was stunning, that the acclaim her acting received was more than justified, and that she was notorious for being a closed book. It may have not been much, but it was certainly enough to make Vanessa intrigued.

—

Vanessa was more nervous than she’d ever been as she knocked on the studio door at twelve o’clock on the dot, and was greeted with nothing but inaudible murmurs. At a loss for what to do next, she began contemplating her next move, but was quickly pulled from her thoughts as a tall blonde in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She turned towards the woman, who was wearing dark jeans, a grey turtleneck sweater, and had sunglasses sat a top her head. Her bleached blonde hair was styled in a wavy bob, and she was holding a Starbucks cup, her eyes giving nothing away as they met Vanessa’s. Although she was dressed casually, she still managed to have an aura of glamour about her.

“You must be Brooke Lynn?” Vanessa asked, forgoing usual greetings.

“Hi,” Brooke Lynn said nonchalantly as the two women approached each other.

“I’m Vanessa.”

“I know. Just Brooke is fine, by the way.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Just Brooke,” Vanessa retorted with a smirk. For a second, she thought she saw a crack in Brooke’s neutral exterior, but it must’ve just been a trick of the light as a millisecond later Brooke was looking straight up unimpressed with Vanessa’s admittedly slightly lame attempt at an ice-breaker. She frowned because damn, it wasn’t that deep. Anyone would’ve thought Vanessa had just kicked her kitty (and Brooke did have a cat — two, in fact. Vanessa had found that out on a desperate google binge the previous night.)

Vanessa glared as Brooke took her phone out of her bag and began frantically typing — probably about how much she already knew she didn’t want to work with the girl she was currently stood with. Vanessa cursed her for making it so awkward between them for no reason.

Luckily, her mind couldn’t spiral for long as the door flung open and Katya greeted the pair, looking far more pleased to see Vanessa than Brooke Lynn had been.

“Ladies! Sorry for the wait. Come on in,” Katya said. Michelle, Asia and a few other crew members that Vanessa didn’t know were also seated in the studio, waiting to witness Brooke Lynn and Vanessa’s energy in action and see if they had struck gold.

The chemistry read went far more smoothly than Vanessa had anticipated it would be after her initial interaction with Brooke. Once Michelle had prompted them to begin, it was as if she had become another person entirely. She went from a completely detached, almost shell of a human, to being suddenly absorbed in her character, and her character’s relationship to the role Vanessa was playing. Brooke was convincing, she could give her that. The scene they were delivering wasn’t a major part of the movie, but the nuances of Brooke’s performances made it almost feel like she really had feelings for Vanessa.

However, it was over almost as quickly as it began, and Brooke reverted back to her real self before Vanessa was even able to process the fact that they were finished.

They were met with glowing praise from their panel of judges, and Vanessa felt a strong sense of pride in what she had accomplished. She tried shooting smiles at Brooke in-between compliments, attempting to lighten the atmosphere between them, but Brooke wouldn’t meet her gaze.

After a few more minutes of talk, they were released with the guarantee that they would find out if they were cast within a few days, maximum. Vanessa had been hoping to catch Brooke outside, maybe ask her to lunch so they could get to know each other, but Brooke stayed behind to talk to Katya, the two quickly becoming engrossed in hushed conversation. Vanessa tried to stop paranoia from getting the best of her, but her suspicions that Brooke had connections on this set were confirming themselves, and most likely Brooke would be the priority if she refused to work with Vanessa.

Though surely, if Brooke didn’t want Vanessa cast, she would’ve just thrown their chemistry read altogether?

Vanessa didn’t know the answer to that. Brooke wasn’t easy to work out.

Defeated, she gave the casting panel one last wave and left the studio — it was clear that Brooke would be hanging back for a while. Vanessa knew the rest was out of her hands and decided to hit up Silky and A’keria for drinks; all she could do now was wait.

—

The call came sooner than expected — later that evening, with Vanessa and her friends in a crowded bar, having spent the rest of the day getting drunk. The conversation with Asia was short and to the point, with Vanessa doing her very best to compose herself and hide her tipsy state. The news that she would, in fact, be working alongside Brooke Lynn almost went right over her head, overshadowed by the sheer realisation that she had done it. She had finally landed the second major role of her career. This was her chance to show the world that she wasn’t a one hit wonder, or a fluke.

“I got the part!” Vanessa all but yelled as she returned to their table, ecstatic, A’keria and Silky smothering her with hugs and kisses and screaming words of excitement and congratulations.

“Yes bitch!” Silky declared, and Vanessa wasn’t sure if it was pride or the alcohol, but she was pretty sure that her friend was tearing up.

“Brooke too?” A’keria asked, standing up to buy them another round.

“Yes, obviously. But who cares about her! Lets celebrate,” Vanessa announced. She’d be lying if she denied that at the very back of her mind, she had no lingering concerns about working with Brooke Lynn. But clearly, the bitch could be professional when she needed to be, and she saw no reason why she’d want to make this hard for the both of them now they were stuck with each other for the foreseeable future. And regardless, nothing could wipe the smile off of Vanessa’s face in that moment. She’d be damned if she was gonna let anyone ruin her night for her.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #angst #fluff #smut #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #as the stars align #rujubees #concrit welcome

42 notes · View notes

noirsongbird · 6 years

Note

for the fic asks: 2, 7, 13, 23, 37!

40 Questions for fic writers!

Under a cut because this got loonnnggg. Also once we get to the WIPs section I talk lightly about some smutty shit, so!

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

FAKE. DATING. I want to do it SO BAD and I haven’t yet and I’m finally gonna, I swear.

Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oh, man, this took me a while, and it’s why I had to sleep on this ask and answer it in the morning. A lot of what I’m proud of is dialouge, but I do love Satya’s initial reaction to seeing dragon!Genji in Hold Me Tight and Fear Me Not:

The one - the man - who had spoken laughed, seeing her tense form and fierce expression, and spread his arms wide in a universal gesture of meaning no harm. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that, with bright eyes and an easy smile, dressed in a white gi over a fitted undershirt. He wore light armored gauntlets and boots that looked like they had clawed feet, perhaps for climbing. A dramatic orange scarf caught a light breeze that blew through the courtyard, stirring up the cherry blossoms. The breeze also caught his hair - short, but spiked, and bright green, and that was about where Satya’s brain stopped acknowledging what her eyes were seeing because surely she was seeing things. Men did not have antlers, nor did they have - her gaze flicked back to his face - splatterings of scales over their cheeks and on their arms, or….or strange, serpentine dragon tails.

That nope about what’s blatantly in front of her is and remains deeply delightful, okay.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

That all writing advice is malleable. You can break the rules if you have to, and if it fits, and you don’t have to be bound by genre and convention. Write what’s in your heart, babies, and even if it’s not perfect, you’ll still make something awesome.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Uh, all of them? but if I have to pick one, Promises, Promises (and its sequel, Walk Through the Fire). It’s much enjoyed in the Kylux fandom, but the writing could be SO much better, and the fact that I didn’t have a plan shows very clearly, so I would work harder to make all the individual incidents feel interconnected and like they were actually part of one story and not just me doing whatever I thought was fun?

Talk about your current wips.

ISA NO ISA WHY. This is the part where I get to gratuitously embarrass myself by talking about how many goddamn WIPs I have.

OKAY. So. Ones I can currently talk about, divided by fandom (can’t talk about my Sheith or Hance Big Bang fics since we’re still pre-claims ;D)

Overwatch:

Unpublished:

Flowers Like Freedom: That Mercymaker sequel to Flowers Like Ashes that I’ve been talking about for like a year. NO, REALLY, I AM WORKING ON IT. It’s about halfway done at this point, maybe even three-quarters of the way? I’ve gotten past one of the hardest parts, and have notes for all the remaining scenes, it’s just a matter of finding time where I feel allowed to work on it (which will ease up soon, since one of my most pressing Bang commitments is almost at posting time!)

Rabbit Heart: A Mercymaker AU in which it was Angela, not Amelie, who was taken by Talon. See, Gerard’s wife had security everywhere, and was in no way a soft target, but their girlfriend? Their girlfriend was a field medic, and she was much easier to snatch off the battlefield in the chaos of a fight. With her husband dead and her girlfriend under Talon’s thumb, Amelie chooses to join Blackwatch and is trained as a soldier. I’ve got a solid outline done and I’ve got the beginnings of an opening chapter, so that’s another one we might see pretty soon!

Come Along With Me: The next piece in the Child Ballad Series, in which Katya Volskaya asks for help in a fairy ring and gets one Winter Queen Sombra, who is, in her own mind, very much a helper! She’s helping! So yeah, Sombra agrees to offer Katya the answers she needs, in exchange for seven years of Katya’s service. Everything after that is just really, fantastically gay. Another one that’s about half-done, so it’s about finding time!

Published:

Coming Home: Revisions will be happening at some point I promise.

A Thousand Words: I know mostly where I want to go with this one, I just need to sit down and figure out exactly what that means! Once I get back to Overwatch fic, turning out a new chapter of ATW is very high on my priorities list.

Voltron: Legendary Defender:

Unpublished:

Past the Point of No Return: My fic for the Galra Big Bang, a Lancelot fic that diverges from canon after the end of Season 3 (it’s been in the works for…a while, okay). Lance gets captured by Lotor and his generals, and gets some very interesting perspective as a result. Coming very, very soon–my post date is March 22!

Hold Me Tight or Don’t: My fic for the Voltron Kinkbang, more Lancelot that’s canon-compliant up to Season 4. Lotor goes into heat, ends up spending it with Lance, and they accidentally pairbond (which is a bit like ABO mating, and it gives the pair an empathic link that allows a degree of feleing each other’s feeliings, emotionally and physically). There’s a lot of smut, and also a lot of feels, because these two idiots are navigating a whole lot of feelings. A bit further out–Kinkbang posting is in May!

Untitled Sheith prequel to HMTOD: An incident with Haggar results in Keith becoming more phenotypically Galra–and also gaining the ability and desire to create a Galra pairbond. He somewhat accidentally does with Shiro, and….well. This would go better if a) either of them knew what was going on, and b) Project Kuron wasn’t still looming. Ideally coming next month-ish, before I publish HMTOD, but might be after!

Shine a Light: A college au, once again more Lancelot no I don’t know why I love this ship so much either I JUST DO. This is going to be really, really personal, because a lot of what Lotor goes through during this fic is drawn directly from my personal experiences my first year of college. I had a breakdown. It was bad. But working on this fic has felt so good, because it feels like I’m finally acknowledging and pricessing some of what I went through rather than putting it in a box labelled THAT HAPPENED and filing it in the back of the mental attic.

Published:

Always In This Twilight: Um. It’s. Coming down for revisions, because some of my decisions about where I want things to go later in the story require me to go back and make some edits, and it could use some polishing, and it’s an ABO fic and currently it’s alpha!Shiro/omega!Keith and I want to flop that because omega!Shiro makes me happy. He’s big and buff and also soft okay /weeps

And I’ll Not Go To The Waves: Everything is outlined!! I just have to actually find time to write it. My intent is to finish everything and get it all nice behind the scenes once I’m free of some bang commitments, and then release it on a nice, neat weekly schedule!

I….think that’s everything. NOW YOU KNOW.

#song answers asks #dilaudid #40 questions #my fic #my god so many wips weeps #i...might have missed things too #CRY CRY CRY

2 notes · View notes

sturgess98-blog · 5 years

Text

Rationale

How to start?

So the whole PRP thing is already hard enough, but what makes it almost impossible to start is the fact that you can pick LITERALLY ANYTHING to work on at all. I managed to decide on one...or so I thought. I had a clear proposal and idea of a film I wanted to make but then I realised that I knew exactly what was going to happen with my idea. It was already fully formed, it had hardly any explorative elements and I had already come up with ways of completing it - and where would the fun be in that?

SO, I decided to scrap that idea and head on looking for one that would let me go deep into the unknown and be able to research and be led totally by something other than my head - and then it hit me.

Be led by something other than your head.

I’m of above average intelligence and I know that I can sometimes over intellectualise my practise and so to avoid that, it made sense that my PRP should be something that I wouldn't be able to prepare, predict or think too much about. I began to think back to our movement lessons back in first and second year - all the Chekov and Laban work we did on allowing external stimuli and imagination to affect the body, breath and speech - and realised that I could come up with a really interesting and stimulating research project from these ideas.

Eventually, I came up with this question:

“How might prolonged exposure to different stimuli affect the delivery of the same speech.”

I decided to choose the word ‘might’ because it is a completely experimental project. I don't know what the outcome will be so to say that it ‘does’ would be predicting or putting pressure on the fact that it has to. It would also eliminate the possibility of other variables.

What I planned to do was:

Spend an hour listening to foreign stimuli - moving, vocalising; reacting in whatever way it made me feel - and then deliver a speech at the end of it.

My main idea, when coming up with this question, involved the idea of prolonged exposure to the stimuli rather than just an average amount of time. In order to push myself into places where I've never been before, I wanted to do the exercises like psychological gesture and imagination work we’ve done before in a different way and the main way I could think of was to extend the length, allowing myself to be totally immersed in the surroundings. This also would allow me to complete multiple exercises from practitioners like Chekov and Tufnell during the time.

I HAD IT! I had my idea - surely now I could begin to research?

To the actor - Michael Chekhov

A widening field - Miranda Tufnell/Chris Crickmay

These were some of the books I started to look at when researching what exercises I could do whilst being exposed to the stimuli. I thought it was going to be all plain sailing from here as I had a solid question and all I needed to do was to set up my environment and study the exercises before completing them.

But of course...it could never be that easy.

I realised I'd completely forgot about the fact I was meant to be delivering a speech at the end of it and that I hadn't thought for one second about what that might be and how on earth I'm going to find a speech that can be totally reinterpreted by each different stimuli and one that I hadn't already come up with ideas about when learning the speech?. After looking at monologues from people like Beckett and Ionesco, I still couldn't find anything. I was worried that whilst learning the monologue I would learn it in a pattern or I would allow my brain to take over and begin to put the psychological journey together when really all I wanted to do was learn the words and allow the stimuli used to completely affect that, even if it made no sense in the final result. Once again, I was buggered. I decided to leave this problem for the meantime, trusting that a wonderful monologue would suddenly reveal itself to me, and continue with my research.

I bought a magnificent book written by scientist Philip Ball called ‘The Music Instinct’. What this book answered, as best it could, was questions like ‘how music works’, ‘how do we make sense of musical sound’ and ‘how does music excite such rich emotion’. This book immediately gripped me by explaining all the logic and history behind harmony, musical frequency fractions and the ancient harmonic and diatonic scales.

What was then revealed to me was something that would - AGAIN - change my PRP idea. It was a chapter that looked at music and scales in different cultures. Something that hadn't occurred to me EVER was the idea that different cultures actually have different scales, different notes and even different frequencies of sound. (I mean I had totally forgot the fact that a pitch of sound has a certain frequency so this last one was a double blow.)

What this did to me was ignite an interest in being exposed to sounds that I was unfamiliar with.

I am a very keen musician and also have a passion for music theory and understanding what feelings certain keys carry or what kind of instruments can create certain atmospheres etc (funnily enough this was what my first PRP idea was about) and this means that I am well versed in the ideas behind our western musical culture. I am not, however, familiar with the ideas behind tribal music from Africa or the Arctic, or Gamelan music from Indonesia who don't just use different instruments but they actually use different frequencies of sound on those instruments to those in a Western culture.

I understood if I wanted to really be at the mercy of the music, I needed to take away any pre-existing ideas about it. For example, I know what sounds the piano can produce, I know what keys, chord progressions, key changes and notes are used for the majority of the time and how it is utilised to affect the listener because I have studied it myself - but to subject myself to music I am completely unfamiliar with, and to frequencies of sound that my brain can't even accept as being a note in our modern western music scale then surely that will affect me a completely different way as a classical piano piece would?

So I decided that I would expose myself for a long period of time to stimuli that I was totally unfamiliar with and which would affect me in ways that I have never been affected before - I hope. I think the scary thing about this is that I have to be totally open and ready to accept anything and allow the exercises to influence my body and then my speech, and if I'm not willing to go to those places, then the whole thing won't be worth all this writing. But I guess that’s what’s more exciting about doing this idea instead of one that I have completely planned out.

TO THE RESEARCH:

The practitioners I wanted to look at during this process were mainly Chekov, Tufnell and Crickmay because I wanted to gain knowledge on how to be open and receptive to stimuli. I read their books and began to practise some of the exercises that they focus on. I knew that my experiment would require a certain type of mind frame and an openness that maybe I haven't fully had before, so what I wanted to do was prepare myself in the weeks before the experiment, to make sure I was ready to tackle prolonged exposure in the best way possible. What that meant was practicing being aware of stimuli in the run up towards the practical in order to get use to and understand how the allow stimuli to affect the body.

Chekov says “ Atmospheres are limitless and to be found everywhere. Every landscape, every street, house, room; a library, a hospital, a cathedral, a noisy restaurant, a museum.”

This was really interesting to think about and in order to get my mind going and able to notice atmospheres in the first place, never mind just be affected by them, I had to begin to look for them! In places I would go to I would be trying to sense their atmosphere and what has created it. The ‘what has created it’ was the important thing for me - because what I realised after my research is that atmospheres can be different and that they can bleed into one another and take each other over. I wanted to be affected solely by the music, so that meant that I needed to be completely engrossed in that and see how that affects the room around me so I can begin to experience the room through the music’s atmosphere. For example, I would go into a shop – notice the people and the staff and the difference of atmospheres between them. Walk around and sense the atmosphere of the room by looking at the lights, architecture, layout – allowing myself to be affected by it and then I carried that atmosphere out with me into another shop, where I then explored the ideas of personal atmosphere vs environment.

To keep my focus on music, in my preparation up to the practical, I would also constantly listen and play music and try to experience their atmospheres.

Being reasonably satisfied that I could connect and experience atmospheres to a certain level, I moved on to looking at how else I could allow the music into my body.

A big thing I was worried about was getting distracted. I’m going to be listening to strange music for an hour (which is a proper long time doing something like that) and I am already the type of person that gets bored and distracted very easily. So in prep, I went in search of ways to become more focused on the present moment. In ‘A Widening Field’ Tufnell/Crickmay talk about moving and finding where you are and being present in the moment. She says:

“As I move, associations, memories, phrases, pictures...may drop into my mind, and I let then in and out again. They are glimpses of imagery for which I am not yet ready, and which, if I follow at this point, will draw me away from the present moment”

This being drawn away from the present moment is exactly what I was worried about, so I began to complete exercises from this book which were designed to help me focus completely on the present and my surroundings.

“Moment by moment, move as your body feels, hear the small voices of impulse, let them echo through you.”

These little mantras from the same book, I wrote down and worked on because they are really useful little reminders as to how to connect to your own body and the stimuli around you.

MUSIC:

In picking my music, as I mentioned earlier, I didn't want anything from our western culture as I am too familiar with it so I began to look into Middle-Eastern and Asian music. What I didn't want to do was listen to it beforehand because then I was already ‘contaminated’ (for want of a better phrase). I would have already have heard it and listened to it and that might affect how I react ever so slightly in the room. I really wanted no other external factors to affect the experiment so I had to limit and facilitate all of my preparation in order to make sure I was a starting on a blank canvas in the room. Whilst reading ‘The Music Instinct’, Ball starting talking about Gamelan music that isn’t based on pitch/defined by pitch, but actually is made from patterns of steps.

“The key to Gamelan composition: it is defined in terms of patterns of steps between degrees of the scales (for example, up one, down one, down another), and not in terms of absolute pitch values. This is a demonstration that even pitched music need not be defined in terms of pitch as such.”

This sounded like the exact type of music that I wanted for my project - unfamiliar, unpredictable, and not following the western scales/frequencies and signatures. So I decided to compile a playlist of Gamelan music an hour worth long. Luckily on Spotify, there was already a playlist and all I needed to do was check the lengths of the pieces and put them into a playlist of my own. I made sure when checking their length that I had no sound on so I couldn't listen to what the music was doing.

I realised that I would need another playlist and that I would have to do the experiment twice in order to compare and see whether I was affected by the music itself or by something else. So I went in search for another type of music.

I listened to Simon Mcburney on desert island discs and his last song was a fantastically guttural and absurd throat song from a young girl in the Chukchi Tribe in northeast Siberia. This was a whole new type of music that I had never experienced before and thought that it would be perfect for my second experiment. I went in search of more music like it but all I could find was on CD online which wasn't for sale anywhere. Despite this, I looked more at throat singing and found Tibetan Monk Throat singing. Having not heard it, or wanting to hear it, I made a gut decision to make a playlist out of this and use it for my second practical.

After my music was picked and my practical dates were getting closer, I carried on practicing noticing atmospheres, taking time out of the day to connect to the present moment and to myself and my body. I began to meditate, mindfulness meditation specifically, in order to help me connect more to how my body/mind are feeling in the present moment and not in the past/future. This was a key part of my prep because I knew that when I entered the room and started the music, I needed to be completely in the moment and not judge anything that was going on - not think about the past, nor the future, just listen and respond.

So that was why I began to meditate, to practise having no judgment and being in the here and now and I feel like it was a huge help for me in the room. It reminded me to keep connected to my breath and also to trust that I needn't worry about anything I was doing.

MATERIAL

I then came back to the question of what text I was going to use. After a great recommendation, I found a passage from ‘A Clockwork Orange’ by Anthony Burgess which I felt could definitely work. The text was actually one of the hardest things to facilitate during my process. I knew I needed a text to show the results of the hour, but I wanted one that could be completely reinterpreted each time, with little psychological journey so I couldn’t learn it in a pattern or with feeling, and one that I can feel disconnected to personally so that I can pick it up fresh each time. The Clockwork Orange speech had all of these factors because of the nature of the material (dark, gruesome, violent) and also because of the language barrier (NADSAT dialect), so it was a good choice in the end. I decided to learn it very vaguely in order to not have a sheet in my hand because that would affect the delivery after the exposure, but also vaguely because I didn't want to know it off by heart completely and have learned it in a pattern.

EXPERIMENT DAY

Experiment day 1 was on Monday so I got everything ready on the Sunday night, ready to take into school in the morning. I knew that there was no way I could be in a completely neutral state in the morning, things were always bound to affect me; like a bad sleep, a rushed morning or a rubbish breakfast. So I made sure that all of those problems were narrowed down. I rested my mind and body by meditating before bed and didn’t look at any devices in order to rest my eyes, I woke up with enough time to get ready and into school without any worries and I had a cracking omelette for my breakfast. TO THE ROOM!

I arrived at ALRA and I had booked the room for more than enough time so I didn't need to rush when I got there or worry about keeping track of time. I had printed off signs to put on all the doors that said not to disturb and I made sure I had booked the room before hand so people would know on the timetable that it was taken. I used the school speaker, set the volume to where I felt it was loud enough to envelope the room and make sure that that was all I was affected by - i.e. not by the birds singing or the canal outside.

I then began to look at the room for any potential distractions, dangers and anything else that might interfere with the experiment. I moved a table, pens and some papers from the floor towards the side of the room. I checked all doors were fully closed and that the floor was clear of any sharp, unsuspecting objects. The curtains were open slightly and I felt that was an appropriate amount of light to do it in so I didn't touch them and I felt confident that the room was neutral enough and safe to begin. I then did the speech to camera in whatever state I was in. Nothing was pushed and nothing was added, it was just simply how I felt in that moment. I did this so I could see the comparison afterwards and also it was a nice beginning exercise to get me into just speaking the speech in whatever way I felt, almost like a control in a scientific experiment.

I had decided I was going to record my speech at the end on a small hand-held camera. This was because it would give me the freedom to still move and not be restricted to a corner because if I was, that would affect the delivery of the speech and I may lose some feeling of the music. With this in mind, I kept the music on whilst recording my speech so I could still listen and respond to it.

I did the first experiment. I exposed myself to an hours worth of Tibetan Monk Throat singing and completely committed myself to the movement and feelings it aroused. I admit it took me about 5 minutes to get out of my head the ideas that I had prepared for ages for this and that I wanted it to be good, but once I had shed these thoughts, I honestly felt like I had abandoned all sense of judgment and that I moved, vocalised and just felt how the music made me feel.

EXPERIMENT DAY 2

Experiment day 2 was meant to be on the Tuesday, but after reflecting on the way day 1 made me feel, I decided it would be better to have a day of rest and not think about PRP one bit in order to make sure I entered the next experiment day with a clear head and no judgment on what I did the day before. It was key that the second experiment was individual to its music and not influenced by memories from the first time I did it.

Experiment day two began exactly the same (I made another cracking omelette) and set up/checked the room was in exactly the same condition. After I had the whole room set up, I then recorded the speech blankly again, in whatever state I was in that morning. In hindsight, I realised that that week, I'd already read the speech twice (blankly day 1 and after the stimuli day 1) so I was already a little more familiar with it. I realised how hard it might be to exist completely in this moment again with no memory of the first experiment. However, I used Tufnell’s ideas on breathing in the present moment, and noticing today’s surroundings and letting that be my prime focus during my preparation.

I completed experiment 2!

I edited them together into a clip that showed my normal version of the speech, a time-lapse of my exposure to the stimuli and then the affected speech.

What did I learn in hindsight/what would I change?

The actual idea and exploration element of the project - exposing myself to an hour’s worth of foreign stimuli and allowing my body/mind to be affected totally by that - worked a treat. I experienced sensations I never had before, I moved in ways I never had, without judgment or a need to be ‘right’ and I vocalised my feelings in such abstract ways that I barely recognised the sounds.

There are certain things I would rethink or wonder what else could have been done about them though. One being the text. If I didn't have to have an ‘end product’ and this wasn't being done for my degree, I wouldn't have had a speech at the end. I wouldn't have tried to quantify the feelings and sensations and measure them through a speech, I would have just let them live in my body for that hour and then reflect on them afterwards. However, I felt like I picked the most appropriate type of speech and dealt with the problems of familiarity and practise really well. Maybe if I just picked up the camera and improvised? Maybe that would have been more authentic, instead of performing a pre-learned speech?

I would maybe have given myself more time between the experiments. I was happy that I had booked rooms for three days and could therefore miss out the middle day and I felt it was the right decision to allow my body and mind to rest and forget the previous days experience. However, I could have possibly done with a week/two weeks between the exposures, in order to be completely fresh. That said, after 5 mins of the second experiment, I was fully involved and connected to the Gamelan music and all thoughts about the earlier one were gone.

The camera was a really tricky device to incorporate. I chose hand held because It gave me freedom but then whilst delivering the speech, I felt almost bound to it. It was useful because I got to interact with the object in whatever way I felt, sometimes getting lost in looking at the way the mechanisms worked in the lens, but maybe there was a better way of filming? Maybe just a fly on the wall camera and I didn't need to deliver it directly to camera?

To conclude, I believe I can confidently say that prolonged exposure to stimuli affects not only the delivery of a speech but also the body and the mind. The stimuli allowed me to move freely without any inappropriate tension or judgement on the movement and in a manner that was abstract and fully informed by the music. Vocally, it allowed me to release sounds that weren’t common due to the lack of thought about vocal projection and control. I was immersed and therefore forgot about voice technique and explored qualities that were unfamiliar, guttural, harsh, yet also soft, angelic and gentle. Mentally, I was transported to a place beyond any day to day thoughts and my mind explored realms of freedom that I don’t experience in daily life. There were no distracting thoughts as I fully committed and if images or thoughts popped into my mind, all I needed to do was reconnect to the sound and then I was back in the room.

It’s important to acknowledge however, that this was a very personal experiment and that the results for other people, should they try to replicate it, are likely to be very different indeed.

0 notes

theartificialdane · 7 years

Text

Galactica, part 229

In this Ivan surprises his parents, Patrick suggests a compromise, Raven entertains, Fame goes to a friend, Sutan crosses the line and Bianca does her best.

Thank you to @veronicasanders @toriibelledarling and @samrull for all of their help! <3 Rating: E

“KATYA! KATYA!”

“I’m awake!” Katya sat up straight, her chin covered in drool as she had fallen asleep at her desk, the agenda for the next day's teachers meeting at her school in front of her, the pages upon pages of what was going on in the students lives apparently too much for her to handle. Katya rubbed her eyes, the door behind her opening as she turned around. Katya was tired, so so tired, even though her husband's enthusiasm usually woke her right up. Ivan had barely been sleeping, the little boy not doing anything besides screaming unless his dad was with him, talking to him in his native language in a slow and sweet voice.

“Katya! It happened!”

“What happened?” Katya looked up, and came face to face with Trixie, Ivan on his hip, her husband holding what seemed like a… full diaper?

“We were reading his night night story, and all of a sudden he got red in the face and I thought he was choking, but look!”

Trixie held out the diaper, the sight of it actually disgusting, but somehow, as she jumped up to hug her husband and kiss her son's little head, she had never been happier to see another humans excrements.

***

Fame sat at the table with her hands folded, waiting for her husband, trying not to let her nerves be written clear across her face. The last time they saw each other...well, it hadn’t been her best showing. But she was optimistic about today’s meeting, lunch on one of their favorite restaurants, a lovely little Italian place tucked away right in the middle of midtown but somehow a total escape from the madness. He’d agreed nearly a minute after she’d reached out. So maybe he was missing her just as much as she missed him.

She rose to greet him when he walked through the door. He looked so handsome, so familiar, so...relaxed? Calm? Confident? Why was he so relaxed? Fame frowned and sat down again, clearing her throat.

Patrick smiled at her. “You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you,” sha answered, a slight edge in her voice, still suspicious of how at ease he was.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” he continued.

“Yes?”

“We should go up to the farm together?”

“Really?” Fame was almost ready to cry. So THIS was why he was so happy and relaxed - because he’s been missing her and now that she invited him out, he was confident that they would be reconciling. Maybe they were on the same page! After all, the farm has always been so important to them both. Patrick bought it for her when he moved to NY to be with her, since she missed the country, the chicken ranch where she grew up. “Oh Patrick, I’m so happy, it’ll be perfect, just you and m-”

“We’ll have to calculate how much it’ll take to keep it running, for your alimony.”

“....My alimony?”

“You don’t want alimony? I figured you would, with the house and Charles and all.”

“Patrick, what are you talking about?”

“For the divorce, Fame.”

“The divorce?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

Fame stared at him for a minute, open-mouthed.

“I...I thought that’s why you asked me here. To talk about formal...terms...in a civilized way…” Patrick suddenly didn’t look so relaxed anymore.

Fame was guilty of many things. But one thing that she would NEVER do, was throw a fit in a restaurant. Especially not a restaurant she frequented multiple times a week. So she rose slowly to her feet and, without even a glance back at the philandering jerk she’d married, marched out of the restaurant.

***

"Rave, are you sure about this?” “Yes! Come on Violet, just try it on!” Raven laughed and took a sip of her wine “You’ll look great.” Violet smiled slightly, the velvet fabric in her hands so soft. Raven had texted her earlier that day, first just asking her if she had her Yves Saint Laurent in Rouge Pur Couture (she didn’t). But as they texted back and forth, Violet quickly got the feeling that Raven was very lonely. Raja had been busy at work lately, in fact so busy that Violet almost felt bad at how annoyed she was with Sutan at times. Violet wasn’t sure if it was the truth, but the gossip around the office was that Fame wasn’t feeling her best, that Fame had disappeared after a lunch with Patrick, and that her and Patrick were getting divorced, but Violet wasn’t really believing it, Fame and Patrick loved each other. They had to stay together, they just had to. “Okay.. But only if you’re absolutely sure.” “I am! Now come on!” Raven pushed Violet who quickly got up, the two girls sitting together on the floor of Raja and Raven’s wardrobe since Raven had been looking for outfits for her honeymoon. The duo was had boxes of chinese takeaway to the side, as they had eaten together in the colorful room like two school girls, giggly and happy. Raven had somehow talked Violet into sharing the bottle of wine with her that added to the cheer. Violet shimmied out of her dress, Raven whistling as Violet was standing in her underwear before she pulled the dress that Raven had given her over her head. “So what do you think?” Violet thirled, giggling as the motion made her feel slightly dizzy. “That dress is perfect for you, it’s the perfect balance of sexy and sophisticated without being super flashy. You look amazing Vivi!” Raven said with a big smile and two thumbs up. Violet turned around to look in the mirror, her slender frame covered by the simple, black Gucci dress. Violet moved from side to side, looking at herself, a small smile on her face. “It does look pretty great…” “You’ll look amazing at Marie Claire, making those bitches love your collection.”

“Raven! That’s Bianca you’re talking about, she’s your friend.”

“Still a bitch though.” Raven giggled, and Violet smiled a little at her friend, Raven emptying her glass of wine before she poured another one. “And she’s Raja’s friend more than mine anyway.” Violet bit her lip slightly, watching how it was slightly baggy on thinner frame, her due to Raven's curves. "Is it okay if I take it in a little? I promise I'll be careful." Violet knew she could most likely make it go back to it’s original shape afterwards if she did it by hand, Raven’s offer of letting her borrow it so sweet. "I would expect nothing less honestly," Raven said easily as she walked over to give Violet a pair of black patent pumps to go with her outfit. "This particular dress is closer to a size 4, but your frame is more of a 0 or 2 so I would have recommended you to take it in anyway. I know when I first wore this dress for a shoot, I had a corset on so the waist was more pinched in." Violet nodded, pinching in the fabric on the side to see if it looked better, Raven smiling brightly. "So if you take ,.the dress in 2 inches all around, with an additional 2 inches at the waist, it'll fit your frame perfectly. Pair it with a pair of sheer garters and you'll be perfect." Violet smiled, and nodded, Raven’s vision clear in her head "I'll make sure I get the dress back to you, as soon as possible. Who is your dry cleaners?” Raven looked at Violet curiously, "What?" "Don't you want your dress back?" Violet asked as she turned to face Raven again. "No, this dress now belongs to you now.” Violet looked in disbelief at Raven, the dress barely feeling used at all. “Really?” "Sure!” Raven said as she pulled out a garment bag from under a pile of clothes. "You can have the shoes too, since I have another pair of them," she continued as she began pulling more dresses and skirts." "Oh, Raven, no I, you don't have to-” Violet began before Raven waved her off. "Don't worry about it," Raven replied.

“I… Thank you Rave..” Raven smiled and took Violet's hands in hers, "You can have anything, well almost anything, you want, from my wardrobe, all I ask is that you feel as beautiful and confident as you’ll look." "Thank you so much Raven," Violet smiled, about to take the dress off before she caught one last look at herself in the mirror. "Actually..." Violet crouched down to the floor, quickly reached into her bag to take out her phone. "Would you mind taking a picture of me?" "A picture? You want to take a picture?” Raven smiled brightly, Violet giggling in her slightly drunken state. “Why?” “For Sutan.” "You're asking me to take a picture for Sutan?" Violet nodded. "I want him to see how good I look.. So he won’t forget me!" Violet blushed, causing Raven to giggle before bouncing over to her friend. "I would love to! Do you want to freshen up your hair and makeup before we start taking pictures?" “Really?” Raven's face lit up in a smile as she guided Violet to sit down at her vanity she had in the wardrobe, equipped with hot tools for hair, makeup and even some of her jewelry. "What look do you want to for our photo shoot? I think old Hollywood glam with pin curls or deep waves and a simple winged liner and red lip with light blush, highlight and contour." Raven was beaming, beyond excited to have a fun project for the afternoon. "You're the visionary of this shoot," Violet said, Raven getting the bottle and their glasses to refill them. "Work your magic." Raven grinned as she set her glass of wine on a free spot on her vanity, "Visual seduction is my speciality so I'll do more than that." She said as she took Violet's hair down from her ballet bun, "You'll not only knock him off his feet but give him a permanent boner for the rest of the day." Violet laughed at Raven's enthusiasm before taking another sip of her wine, "I trust your judgement, but if anything goes wrong I'm blaming it on you." "Don't worry lovey," Raven began, "if I know Sutan the way I do, you'll have him eating out the palm of your hand."

***

“I’m COMING! Jesus fucking Christ!” Bianca walked towards the frantic, hysterical knocking at the door, wondering which one of the fragile little lambs in her life was going to be falling apart tonight. She’d been planning a relaxing evening with the television and a bottle of wine, possibly delving into some saved photos later on while Courtney was at an out of town gig.

She opened the door to find Fame, swaying in her stilettos, already drunk, eye makeup beginning to run. “Apparently I’m getting a divorce.”

Bianca opened the door wider and pulled Fame inside. “You know there’s fucking paps outside, did they get you like this?”

Fame shook her head, sniffling.

“Okay, good. Come here.” Bianca led Fame to the sofa and sat her down. “Red, white, or hard stuff? How bad is it?”

“Red.”

“Okay! So there’s hope!” Bianca said brightly, getting a couple of glasses and a bottle of red wine. “Tell me what’s going on, blondie. Is it time for me to fire Shannel yet? ‘Cause to be honest, Nina has been a real cunt lately and it would serve her right to lose her assistant.”

“Oh my god, do you think she’s the reason?!”

“I...sorry...I was just...shit.”

“I didn’t even THINK about her! That fucking asshole...do you think he’s screwing her?”

“I don’t know, blondie.”

Fame closed her eyes. “B. I’m going crazy.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why is this happening?”

Bianca wrapped her arms around Fame’s shoulders and held her close. “Because...shit happens. And then we die.”

Fame laughed through her tears. “Why did I think coming here was a good idea?”

“Because I have a good wine collection,” Bianca reasoned, refilling her glass.

“Oh yeah.” Fame snuggled against her chest.

*** “Maaaaaaaaaax, I’m booooored.” Ruby tossed and turned on Max’s bed. She knew she was whining but she had come over after work, sneaking her way into Max’s apartment since she still didn’t really feel comfortable around his roommates. “You promised we could go out for pizza.”

“Ruby, I’m sorry but I have to get this done.” Max was sitting with his headphone around his neck, his hand flying over his tablet, the little pen he was holding correcting the photos he was going through one after one after one. “The deadline is tomorrow.”

Ruby huffed. She knew she was being unfair, but she loved spending time with Max, the brit always making her day so much better.

“I know, I know.” Max sighed slightly, his attention barely divided between Ruby and the screen, Max still editing.

Ruby sighed and lay back on the bed, closing her eyes as she listened to the low music she could hear from Max’s headphones.

“What about a compromise?”

Ruby peaked up. “Yes?”

“You go get pizza, I get as much done as I can, we watch animal planet for an hour, and then you let me work?”

Ruby smiled, jumping up from the bed. “Deal Mr. Malanaphy.”

***

BIANCA: Hey bunny, did you land okay? Xx

COURTNEY: Yep! Miss you already!

BIANCA: Break a leg tonight. I know you’ll be amazing.

COURTNEY: <3

BIANCA: FYI, I’m telling you this in real time - Fame is here. She had a fucked up meeting with patrick and she’s in bad shape. She’s drinking heavily and I told her that she could stay over.

BIANCA: I am being totally honest with you.

BIANCA: OK?

COURTNEY: OK

BIANCA: I’m just trying to be a good friend. But I know you got upset last time because I didn’t tell you right away, so I’m telling you right away.

COURTNEY: Alright.

BIANCA: That’s all you’re gonna say? I’m trying to do the right thing here.

COURTNEY: You want a medal?

BIANCA: ...Should I not have told you??

COURTNEY: No. That’s not the point. It would just be thrilling if we could get to the point where you’re not having sleepovers with your distraught ex lovers on the regular. Have a good night, I’m going in for sound checks.

BIANCA: Baby...

BIANCA: Baby, I’m sorry.

BIANCA: She’s not my “ex lover.” I mean I get what you’re saying but that’s not what’s happening here. She’s my FRIEND.

BIANCA: Courtney.

BIANCA: I LOVE YOU

COURTNEY: I love you too

BIANCA: Still mad?

COURTNEY: Yes

BIANCA: Fuck

COURTNEY: I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

***

“Fuck you’re so perfect” Sutan knew he properly should not be so rough, knew that Violet was drunk, his girlfriend giggling, her normally pale and cold skin a dusty pink and oh so warm against his touch, her delicate lips painted a deep red, but god she was amazing. Sutan had picked her up from upstairs, Violet sending him picture after picture during his meeting of her, pictures he had never seen before, his girlfriend stunningly beautiful as she always was, but there was also a desperation in the pictures, like she was afraid of something, Violet never sending him anything with her entire body and least of all her face included.

“Sutan.. Don’t..” Violet whined slightly, Violet’s body pressed into the jackets that were hanging in the entryway of Sutan’s apartment, the fur of her winter coat and the thick wool of Sutan’s. Sutan had no idea why, but Violet was only wearing a sheer top and booty shorts that clearly didn’t fit her right, her hair not in her usual high ponytail but instead in a low one, perfect for grabbing, his hands already itching. He suspected Raven had a hand in it, his sister in laws imagination already running off with her, but none of that mattered right now when he grabbed Violet’s hair, her long ponytail waved into his fingers so he had total control.

“Down.”

Violet nodded, her eyes half lidded, a rush of warm going through Sutan at her easy submission. They had only recently started playing the games, Sutan taking more and more control, but it was perfection each time, Violet like butter in his hands, his girl so sweet and soft. Sutan gave her a single kiss, a smile on his lips as he gently guided Violet down, his other hand already on his belt, working to unzip it when Violet gave an unsuspected moan, the girls eyes flying open.

“Violet?”

Violet’s cheeks were bright red, her mouth open, hips rocking slightly, and Sutan immediately connected the dots, the shorts she was wearing a whole new experience for her, the fabric oh so tight between her legs.

“Does that feel good mata indah?”

Violet nodded, the girl almost looking stressed with the sensations, and Sutan couldn’t help but smile. Drunk Violet would always be his favorite, her reaction to her own body always the greatest amusement whenever she experienced something new.

“You’re perfect.” Sutan gently ran his thumb over Violet’s cheek, the man holding her face with his free hand, helping Violet balance on her the pad of her feet, the girl swaying slightly, her cheeks a bright red, her breathing unsteady and Sutan could practically feel how hot she was, her nipples tight against the fabric of her shirt. Sutan guided her down, her knees hitting the carpet, another gasp leaving her, her hand coming up to grab Sutan’s left arm, her fingers digging his shirt, her eyes closed as she clung to her boyfriend, the power exchange between them keeping her in an almost trance like state.

“Can you come like this?”

Violet whimpered, clearly not knowing what to say, a small moan leaving her as Sutan pulled her ponytail with her left hand, the pain pushing her even more, and Sutan did something he had never considered before.

Smack

The first slap was soft, only just testing, his palm making connection with Violet’s cheek, the woman gasping loudly, her eyes flying open as Sutan slapped her again, as hard as he could this time.

Smack

Violet’s head turned with the force of the slap, Sutan’s hand in her hair quickly catching her, holding her, her eyes filled with tears, nothing coming from her but short and sharp intakes of breath, her entire body still, and Sutan realised she had come, the force of his second slap bringing her over the age the second he touched her cheek.

***

“Biancaaaaaaaaa, put down your stupid phone,” Fame slurred.

“You’re getting me into trouble.”

“What are you even talking about?” Fame asked, pouring the rest of the bottle into her glass. “This is empty which makes me super sad, so get another bottle like right away.”

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.” She stood and walked over to the wine rack, opening another bottle of Merlot.

“So what. Are you talking about? Trouble? Like what? What? What?” Fame shook her head vigorously. “I didn’t fucking touch you.”

“I know that, you dumbass, but I told Courtney that you’re sleeping over, since you’re obviously incapable of even operating your elevator, and she threw a hissyfit over it.”

“Well…” Fame leaned back, laughing a little. “That’s your fucking problem, now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“And by the way...that’s karma, you homewrecking slut.”

“Excuse me?!” Bianca sputtered, laughing in spite of herself. Fame didn’t get into these kind of moods often, but when she did, she was quite a sight to behold, and quite a force to be reckoned with.

“Yeah, you heard me. This is your karmic destiny.”

“You’re off your damn rocker. And drunk.”

“No. I mean yes, I am drunk. Yes. But no, I’m telling truth, absolutely. Because if it wasn’t for you, and your dumb self, I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess with Patrick, and--”

“Wait just a minute!” Bianca stopped Fame. “I’m going to quickly declare bullshit. First of all, I’m not the only person you slept with outside of your relationship with Patrick. I was just the first. If not me, it would have been some other bitch.”

“Maybe not.”

“Maybe definitely. You know how many predatory lesbians there are in this city that would have happily popped that particular cherry for you? A fucking lot. Hell, Raja was foaming at the mouth for it.”

Fame laughed. “Yeah, she was.”

“Still an option, if you want to know the truth,” Bianca said, raising one eyebrow.

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“What’s the subject, drunky-pants?”

“I forget. But...shut up.” Fame laid down on the sofa, putting her head in Bianca’s lap.

Bianca sighed. “Seriously, what am I gonna do about Courtney?”

“I don’t care,” Fame yawned.

“Rude.”

“Okay...jewelry.”

“I meant like, in an abstract sense, but that’s not the worst idea.”

“She likes sparkly stuff. It doesn’t even need to be expensive.”

“So what about you? What are you doing about Patrick?”

Fame groaned. “I think it’s over. I mean how...how could we possibly recover from this? I just… I love him so much…” Fame looked like she was about to cry, before she took another swing. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Do you WANT to recover? Or do you want to move on? I’m probably better with the latter, but I’m willing to stretch outside my comfort zone to help you if you need it.”

“You really need to speak in shorter, simpler sentences right now.”

Bianca smiled and ran her fingers through Fame’s hair, pulling a blanket up around her. “How about, you just rest, and we can have a serious talk in the morning?”

Fame took one of Bianca’s hands in hers and held it, replying, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, B?” Fame asked in a small voice.

“Yes?”

“Um…” a tear slid down her cheek, and Bianca bent down to kiss her forehead.

“Shh...It’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay.”

***

“Do you want some more water?”

Violet shook her head, a small smile on her lips. She was in Sutan’s arms, the TV running in the background, the blue blanket that was hers wrapped around her, her head resting on Sutan’s shoulder, her arms around his neck.

Sutan had picked her up from the floor, Violet’s head still spinning, both from the pain of her cheek, and how incredible her orgasm had been, her fingers and toes humming with the intensity of the pleasure. “Okay..” Sutan kissed her forehead, and Violet sighed slightly, content and happy. Sutan was here, protecting her, keeping her safe. He loved her, and she loved him, and that was the most important thing.

#galactica #au aag verse #rpdr fanfiction #my fics

43 notes · View notes