#deck of statesmen

[apricops]

[BEGIN STREAM: 18-FEB-2069]

Folks, President Sunny Roosevelt here! It’s President’s Day, and to celebrate, I’m gonna do a reading from the Deck of Statesmen for all my loyal voters and subscribers! I’m still learning, I’ve done some practice readings and stuff, but this is my first time doing a big reading for a crowd, so be nice.

[Sunny begins shuffling a deck of cards. Stream comments: “ohhh this is gonna be good;” “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO;” “I want Sunny to shuffle me”]

We’re gonna do a five-card reading today. If you’ve been living under a rock and dunno what that means, you’ve got the Upper Seat on top, three Chamber cards in the middle, and the Lower Seat at the bottom.

[Sunny places five (5) cards face-down in a + (plus) shape]

So first is the Upper Seat, the one on top, and that one sets the tone for the rest of the reading.

[Sunny flips the top card to reveal a portrait of Martin van Buren (Two of Stewards). Stream comments: “Deece;” “TOPDECKING GAS BOYS;” “lol who”]

Ooh, the Two of Stewards in the Upper Seat. I’m getting… so, he’s a transitional figure, and creating something new isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes you become part of something, or create part of something, and you get swept up in it, or it gets carried away. This card is technically a lesser symbol, but it’s very… nuanced, it’s actually one of my favorite cards. Moving on, we have the Lower Seat, it’s like a balancing counterpoint to the Upper Seat, the soft power versus the hard power.

[Zachary Taylor (Five of Generals) is revealed in the Lower Seat. Stream comments: “FUCKING WHO LOL;” “he always looks like he’s holding in a fart;” “SWORDBOY CONFIRMED”]

The Five of Generals in the Lower Seat. Ooh, that’s interesting, very ‘other side of the coin’ to the Two of Stewards. Sort of falling into something, being the one left holding the bag and not knowing what to do with it. So it sounds like, a lot of tension between the structure versus the people in the structure. But obviously you know I’m on your side. I love my boys. ❤️

[Stream comments: ”WE LOVE YOU TOO;” “MOMMYYYYY;” “god all the lower Generals are exactly the same”]

Now let’s take a look at the Chamber. Starting from the left…

[The first Chamber card is Franklin Delano Roosevelt (High Steward). Stream comments: “WE’RE SAVED;” “NO RELATION LOL;” “MY MAN;” “NO RELATION LOL;” “THE BIG DICK MOTHERFUCKER HIMSELF;” “NO RELATION LOL”]

The High Steward! Help is on the way, folks, haha. No, but seriously, everyone says ‘no card is all good or all bad’ and that’s true. The High Steward is one of those figures that holds the moment in his hand and guides it. He’s strong and benevolent, but also kind of greedy. He’s a linchpin, and linchpins can be dangerous, y’know? You don’t want all your eggs in one basket. 

Especially in the Chamber. The Seats are more concrete and the Chamber is more abstract, where the Chamber is coming up with the big ideas and trying to solve everything and the Seats keep asking “okay, but how are we gonna do that?” So a High card in the Chamber is very… it implies some power-sharing, responsibilities being split. Still, it’s always good to see him! Next up…

[The middle card is flipped over, revealing John F Kennedy (Martyr of Discoursers). Stream comments: “BOOM HEADSHOT;” “JACKIE PHAT ASS;” “Reading’s looking kinda grim boys, High Steward might not be enough to save us”]

The Martyr of Discoursers. The drama! Haha. But yeah, the Martyr of Discoursers basically means drama. And in the Chamber, that could mean a lot things - it could mean big revelations or high tension, but it could also just mean distractions. It’s kind of a reminder to keep your priorities straight and not get distracted by dead ends, or not get lured in by something that’s flashy but without substance. Alright, last card…

[The final card is flipped, revealing Grover Cleveland (Three of Paragons). Stream comments: “FUCKING WHO LOL;” “always sucks when the last Statesman is cringe lol;” “why tf is this nerd a Paragon”]

Hey, the Three of Paragons isn’t cringe. None of them are – okay, very few of them are cringe, haha. And he’s a Paragon because, like I was saying, none of them are all good or all bad. Paragons are about sticking to your beliefs and principles. Sometimes that’s really important, but sometimes it means being stubborn or refusing to learn. And the Three of Paragons is - y’know how I was just talking about drama and linchpins and all that? He’s a balancing force against that. He’s very grounded.

So this is interesting. Looking at the reading as a whole, it seems like the Chamber is very diverse - you’ve got principles and drama and ambition all right next to each other, a lot of these big personalities jostling against each other, and they’re sandwiched between the Seats, who are these balancing and tempering forces trying to corral all these thoughts and ideas and build some structure. 

Yeah, that’s what I’m getting. To sum it up, the Chamber, our ideas and thoughts, they want to go big and loud and dramatic, and they’re being tempered by the Seats, who are kind of quiet and diligent. We’ve got all four classes on the board with a slight Steward majority, which says to me that.. it’s always hard to say when you’ve got a 2-1-1-1 split, because there’s technically a majority, but it’s a small majority. The Seats don’t have a figurehead grabbing everyone else and leading them forward, so right now isn’t the time for any big decisions. It’s saying nobody has all the pieces yet. As tempting as it is to charge ahead and be independent, you should really take a moment to think things through and talk with people.

[Stream comments: “AI gonna take over AGAIN at this rate lol;” “we pulled High Steward so I’m happy;” “Sunny you’re so centrist lmao”]

So, there you go! I hope you enjoyed watching my reading, I had fun doing it. Don’t forget to vote, comment, and subscribe, and check out the store! We’ve got a big President’s Day sale on everything, including a new, that’s right, a new dakimakura design, so make sure you take a look! Mmkay, bye-bye~!

[END STREAM]

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Your new story with "He should be thankful I didn't kill him." Would Matthew have really done that?

Yes. That happened in the late 1810s. That period is this perfect storm of being the worst point for the British boarding schools before major mid-century reforms, the low point of Arthur's parenting, and Matt at his most teenage impulsive and most willing to use violence. Arthur has fished Jack out of the South Pacific to hoard him in England but decided he was such a pain in the ass he'd deposit him to be cycled around some shitty schools. This is before sports were widely played or lessons would include anything but religion or classics, so there's absolutely nothing for Jack to enjoy, and he's never done well in England or Scotland.

Jack is a bright sunny baby who does not look, act, or sound like a good little English schoolboy. He's shunned; he's lost weight; he's ill; he's completely alone, and Arthur either didn't receive his letters or didn't open them or just had no interest. Jack is suffering, and Arthur only considers his remaining offspring abstract concepts. Schooling will be 'good' for the boy. All the great statesmen are educated in institutions quite young why should Jack need a different experience? Arthur is not thinking. He is focused on first the wars against Napoleon, then wheeling and dealing with the other powers, exerting influence over the continent and furthering his empire. He's starting to show some interest in his children again, but it's not much, and he's not very attentive.

Matt has done his duty, maintained his territorial integrity with British support, and even burned Alfred's capital and several of his homes on the way. He is cut off from any good relations with Alfred; they aren't speaking, even if the burning did give Matt his justice in response to the American sacking of York. He's only just gotten to England to a mostly empty house where a servant probably had to tell him about Jack's first school, and then Matt had to trace his movements to three other institutions before Eton.

There's a quote that goes something like There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man. Matt's very much the latter. Much of the world was experiencing famine in 1816 with the Year Without a Sun; at home, is roiling with anger, and he only had one brother accessible. He'd been knelt down and made to swear his oaths. His loyalty means everything to him, but Arthur's intentions and his logic mean nothing the moment Matt claps his eyes on Jack. Matt's fresh out of the army again, with a head full of PTSD going back his entire two centuries and fresh out of fucks. He walked in on Jack being caned for something so fucking minor he doesn't even register it as an issue, picked up the baby, decks the bursar in the face, probably slammed a headmaster into a wall, and stormed out with Jack on one hip. If someone had flung another blow or yelled or had time to respond or tried to stop him, Matt likely would have killed someone. He's a placid, easy-going, kind young man, much happier to paint watercolours and bake some bread than use violence. But sometimes there's just too much trauma and way too much love to stay his hand.

[linuxgamenews]

Experience New Gameplay Mechanics with Old World - Behind the Throne DLC

Old World - Behind the Throne DLC launch machinations of the royal court on Linux, Steam Deck, Mac, and Windows PC. Due to the impressive team at Mohawk Games. Available on Steam and Humble Store with a discount. Exciting news – the latest DLC for Old World by Hooded Horse and Mohawk Games is out now. Old World - Behind the Throne is here, and it’s all about character interactions. This new new content brings fresh gameplay mechanics that will really challenge your grand plans on Linux and Steam Deck. So get ready to face powerful rivals who can now challenge your rule in new ways. As a dynasty leader, you’ll also have to deal with stress through new mechanics. Ruling isn't easy!

Old World - Behind the Throne Trailer

In this DLC, historical characters become key advisors, viziers, aristocrats, and courtiers. Since these rising stars have their own ambitions and desires. Will your statesmen switch sides, or can you stop their sneaky moves? Can you keep the throne of Babylon safe from pretenders? Or will your top general betray you after years of service? Old World - Behind the Throne also leaves it up to you to manage your cities and keep everyone happy. While you risk turning friends into dangerous rivals.

Here’s what else you can expect from the DLC:

Over 350 new events focused on politics, intrigue, and personal ambitions.

More than ten new character traits like “Stressed,” “Impulsive,” and the amusing “Unpopular.”

New goals and ambitions to achieve.

Three new improvements and projects: Estates, Slums, and the “Opulence” project.

Six new historical characters who can become “Rising Stars” – they could be your greatest ally or your worst enemy.

New character portraits and event art to freshen things up.

The stakes are higher than ever with intense court intrigues. One dramatic storyline in Old World - Behind the Throne features a powerful woman begging the King to free her husband from jail. The King agrees, but only if she marries him, seeking more political power. This decision backfires, leading to the assassination of the King's first wife and a civil war. Mohawk Games has truly delivered another hit, the DLC enhances an already great game with massive new content.

Plus, Old World - Behind the Throne and all its DLC are available in multiple languages. While offering German, French, Spanish, Russian, Brazilian Portuguese, Simplified Chinese, Traditional Chinese, and Japanese. You can grab this game DLC for just $9.99 / £8.99 / €9.99 / ¥1,240, plus a 10% discount on Steam and Humble Store. Since its available on Linux, Steam Deck, Mac, and Windows PC. Jump in and see if you can handle the pressures of ruling in Old World - Behind the Throne.

[ltwilliammowett]

The Eliza Ann

The story of the Eliza Ann began two days after Christmas in 1833. On that day, a Bermudian fisherman found what appeared to be an abandoned schooner floating among the reefs near Ely's Harbour. Thinking of a possible salvage and the resulting profit for himself, he rowed out and saw that the bow of the wreck was partially submerged. As he came alongside, the would-be salvor's eagerness turned to horror as his eyes fell on the grotesque figures sprawled on the deck. He called out to them, but there was no reply. Climbing over the side of the wreck, he discovered a crew of skeletons! Full of panic, he jumped into his boat and rowed as fast as he could to Ely's Harbour. 

Shipwreck (not the Eliza Ann -  Wreck of the “Oregon” under Picklecombe Battery, Plymouth Sound. 1867. Source: Illustrated London News.)

News of his encounter with a "ship full of skeletons" spread quickly throughout the islands. It was not long before a dozen fishing boats set out for the wreck.  Eventually it was towed into the harbour and pulled onto the beach by the authorities for further investigation.  Any sailor could see that the wreck was once a beautiful ship. It must have drifted for many months, for its beams were worm-eaten and rotten. The paint that bore her name had faded.

And everyone wanted to know what had happened to her and her crew. The skeletonised remains were carefully brought ashore and examined for clues by the officials in charge. A chain with a silver medal was found around the neck of one of the victims. The inscription read, "Awarded by the School Board as a reward for services to Wm. Brown, the gift of Franklin".  Underneath were crossed pens over an open book. On one of the skeletons, the name J. Seaver was discovered sewn into the clothing, while another had the name N. Seaver. Investigators suspected that these poor souls must have been Americans, as they had a connection to Franklin.  The papers found in the cabin were damaged and illegible. The ship's cargo included rotten meat and fish as well as sperm candles, cider, brandy and lumber. The barrels containing the beef, pork and mackerel were marked "Boston, September, October and November 1832".

Reports of the discovery of the wreck were published in the local weekly newspaper, the Bermuda Royal Gazette, over the next month. At first, the paper stated succinctly that a wreck of unknown origin had been found on the bottom of the reefs and towed to Ely's Harbour. A week later, on 7 January 1834, the newspaper reported that the wreck had been righted and unloaded and that "some human bones were found in its cabin". On 21 January, the Gazette described the medal found on one of the victims on the wreck and the fact that the names Seaver and Brown were widely used in Massachusetts.  Eventually, news of the disaster reached the United States.

When Bostonians read the local Statesmen on Saturday morning, 8 February 1834, they were shocked by the description of the wreck in Bermuda and the grisly remains on board. The description of the schooner matched that of the Eliza Ann, which was captained by a Captain Brown.  The Eliza Ann belonged to James Brown, a well-known Boston merchant. On board was William Brown, one of the winners of the Boston Franklin Medal of 1829, who wore the silver medal on a chain around his neck. His brother James was also on board. The schooner's captain, Captain Brown, was a nephew of the shipowner, and among the passengers were Joshua Seaver and his brother, which might not have happened if they had travelled separately, which they should never do. Because what does superstition say ? Never serve with siblings on the same ship, it never ends well.

What we know is that the Eliza Ann had sailed from Boston on 11 December 1832 for Puerto Rico, but never arrived. So we know her sad fate, but not what happened on that last voyage, and no one knows to this day.

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be Verse: Hold Onto The Sunset Drabble/Oneshot

A/N: This is my go at Writer Wednesday, hosted by the amazing @autumnleaves1991-blog . I've got this set in the future of the As It Should Be verse. I figured since Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons left off on a bit of a sad note I'd give you guys some fluff to tide you over until Ch 4!

It's 03:30 here and this is unedited so I might come back and see if something is egregiously wrong but otherwise this is going to stand.

Warnings: None? Aside from a polyam MMF relationship that's all fluff (with PDA) here!

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales [AO3]

The sand was warm beneath your toes as you shifted in your decidedly uneven folding chair. A few crushed beer cans littered the table but you were all too enthralled in your game of Hold ‘Em to care. The smell of charcoal and grilled food floats teasingly in the air. Santiago had abandoned your game to go and start grilling otherwise we won’t eat until the sun’s long gone. Yeah, that was it. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had handedly lost his last hand and consequently the rest of his money, to Frankie.

It was Jack’s turn to deal and you watch his large hands palm and manipulate the well-worn deck. The whirring sound of the cards folding together followed by the sharp tap against the table as he shuffled was calming and sounded as natural as the ocean waves licking at the beach did. You paused a moment before looking at your cards to try to gauge everyone else's reactions only to find three pairs of brown eyes and one pair of green eyes staring back at you. Laughter rang out across the table, that’s just what happens when you play poker with Statesmen agents and Delta Force vets. Schooling your facial expressions, you peel back the corners of your cards to see your hand: a Jack and 10 of spades.

“Call.” Came Tequila’s cheery drawl.

“Fold.” Ginger sighed and tossed her cards back to the center of the glass table.

“I’m getting another beer from the cooler. Does anyone else want one?”

Her question was met with chorus of ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’. She smiled then rolled her eyes and went about collecting the cold, wet cans from the cooler.

“Call.” Continues Jack with his trademark smirk.

“Call.” Frankie’s voice is a bit rough from having just downed the remainder of his beer.

You called wordlessly, your chips following the others’ as they clinked on the glass table top, then Jack dealt the flop: 9 of hearts, 8 of spades and Ace of diamonds.

Jack’s gaze was on you, gauging your reaction and wondering if you had an Ace to match the one on the table. The betting went around, Jack raised, a classic aggressive opening move from him, but you were all somewhat surprised when Frankie re-raised him. All eyes narrowed at Frankie. The man had a scary good poker face, keeping the tension out of his jaw and meeting everyone’s gaze with those brown puppy eyes of his. It was how he had trounced Santi earlier.

Ginger came back with your beers and set them down on the table before taking back her seat, watching in amusement. You called and Jack dealt the turn card: a Queen of spades.

“You waitin’ on a Jack there darlin’?”

Jack challenged and raised, his voice was rough honey as he tried to get a rise out of you.

You let a laugh spill from your lips and your own mischievous smirk lights a spark in your eye.

“Oh no, I’ve already got a Jack and you’re more than enough. I don’t think I could handle another.”

Frankie’s neutral face breaks into a wide grin and Jack’s mind starts spinning, trying to assess all of the possible meanings behind what you just said. The three of you call and Jack throws down the river: a 7 of spades. What were the fucking odds?

Tequila frowned then checked, Jack raised, Frankie called and you re-raised. A collection of groans were uttered across the table but they all ponied up anyways.

“Straight Flush. Pay up boys!”

You don’t even bother to hide the smugness in your voice. Tequila huffed and cracked his beer open.

“Santiago! Is the food done yet? I thought you said we’d be eating before the sun went down?”

He was exaggerating of course, it wasn’t nearly that late and the summer sun was slow to set over the water. Tequila got up to go and lick his wounds with Santiago around the grill. You got up as well, walking around and pressing a kiss to Frankie’s lips before Jack unceremoniously tugged you into his lap for a kiss as well and smiled.

“C’mere, darlin’ I want one too.”

His smile is good natured, your boys were rarely ever jealous of each other. Something cold and wet makes you jump, your eyes darting to the offending object only to see Frankie’s wide grin and mischievous eyes as he holds your cold beer to your arm. You playfully smack Frankie’s arm then take your beer with a thank you. You’re pleasantly surprised when Frankie lifts your legs to rest in his lap, his fingers grazing over them as he sips his own beer.

Frankie deals the next hand and you can’t help but giggle at how ridiculous it is being in Jack’s lap and trying to keep your cards from each other. Ginger wipes the floor with all of you that hand.

Hooting and hollering, draws your group’s attention across the beach and you see Benny and Will ambling across the sand, each with a six pack in their hands. Benny practically tackles Santiago as he brings him in for a hug.

“Hey! Watch it Benny, I’m grilling here!”

Will shakes his head and pulls Santi in for a decidedly calmer hug and Benny is already waltzing over to the table where you, Frankie, Whiskey, Ginger and Tequila are. Frankie lets your feet down and stands to give Benny a hug.

“Fish! Good to see ya man!”

“Good to see you too, Benny.”

You’re out of Jack’s lap, to his slight dismay, and hugging Benny, it had been years since you had last seen the lovable younger Miller brother.

“Benny, this is Whiskey, Ginger and Tequila, we all work together.”

Benny didn’t even bat an eye and just greeted everyone with a large smile.

“Whiskey, Ginger and Tequila! Well, don’t you all sound like fun!”

Laughter rang out amongst everyone and Santiago called out that the food was done.

“Why don’t you stay here, honey. Benny and I will get plates for you and Whiskey.”

Frankie wasn’t really asking a question and it wasn’t much of a choice since you found yourself once again back in Jack’s lap, his mustache tickling your skin as his lips pressed to your cheek then temple.

Benny clapped Frankie on the back as they walked over to where Santiago had set out their food.

“So you and Hawk and… ?”

“Yeah, and Whiskey, the three of us, together.”

Benny eyed Frankie for a moment, more out of concern than any judgement.

“Well right on, Fish. It’s good to see you happy. About time with Hawk too, huh?”

Frankie fought and lost against his blush, playfully shoving Benny. They brought their plates back to where you and Whiskey were sitting. Frankie put Whiskey’s plate down, inched his chair closer then sat down. Benny handed you your plate with a flourish.

“Here you go, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head and smiling at him even as Jack’s grip on your hip tightened slightly.

“Thanks, Benny.”

He left the three of you then and went to mingle with Ginger and Tequila.

The three of you ate in easy silence. Your feet were draped across Frankie’s lap, your back cradled by Jack’s arm and head resting on his shoulder. Frankie’s fingers alternated between tracing patterns over your skin and resting on Jack’s free hand.

Laughter played off of the sand and air around you, mixing with the sound of the waves. A light, content smile played across your lips as you watched your friends together. It was getting darker now and the sky was painted varying shades of pink, purple, and orange.

“Wow.”

The word slipped from your mouth in awe. Frankie and Jack hummed their agreement in unison and you swear sometimes they were on the same wavelength. You let out a long sigh then take a sip of your beer and settle in further against Jack.

“Whatcha thinking, honey?”

Frankie’s voice is just above a whisper, as if talking any louder would break the spell of perfection that had settled around your group and mother nature.

“I wish I could just hold onto this moment, hold onto this sunset. I’m with the loves of my life, for the first time my family is all together, they’re all having fun and I can’t think of a place I’d rather be than right here watching this sunset.”

Jack held you tighter and kissed your shoulder while Frankie brought your knuckles to his lips.

“We love you too, honey. Couldn’t imagine being anywhere else either.”

Frankie murmurs against your skin and you feel Jack’s hum through his chest. You take in the sight before you, memorizing it so you can paint the canvas in your mind and hold this moment with you, your own slice of heaven. Breathing in, you hold onto the remnants of charcoal from the grill and the salt from the ocean. You hold onto the feeling of the warmth radiating from the last rays of the fading light. It gives way to the heat emanating from Jack and Frankie, which envelops not just your body but your soul as well. You let out a sigh as Frankie leans in closer to you and Jack.

You were going to hold onto this sunset for the rest of your days.

Thanks for reading y'all!

Taglist: @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @yespolkadotkitty @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @itsme-aj467 @kesskirata @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @driedgreentomatoes @pintsizemama @neganwifey25-blog @wheresarizona @absurdthirst @sarahjkl82-blog @duchesschameleon @sherala007 @beautyagegoodnesssize @all-hallows-evie @a-bang-for-your-bucky

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 1

part one: an insight into how microwaving tea should be a capital crime (fem! reader) 

song for this chapter - ldn by lily allen

summary: you’re Percival; reigning queen of the Kingsman, certified bad-ass and one of the most self-sufficient women to have ever graced the City of London. A mission with the Statesmen is a chance to further your career and tighten your grip on international success - it’s a shame that Jack Daniels already has his eyes on the throne. He also has his eyes on you, and it proves to be a problem for you both. {series masterlist}

this has all the kingsman characters but doesn’t follow the canon of golden circle. eggsy, tequila, champ, merlin etc all crop up throughout the series as well! if u want to be tagged, gimme a shout 

- jazz

You didn’t usually answer the door when someone knocked after 11PM. 

It was just common sense, really. Only serial killers, creeps and people who had the wrong address would knock that late. You could have taken on any of those three regardless - you were a bad-ass after all - but you were also busy. You’d been tirelessly working all day at the office, and the grind didn’t stop just because you’d got home. The stack of paperwork beside your computer felt like it was never ending and you simply didn’t have the time to answer the door. Working as Kingsman was more of a lifestyle than it was a job.

‘Oi!’

You almost jumped out your seat when the banging moved to the window beside your desk. It overlooked your front lawn and the quiet street you lived on - well, as quiet as a street in central London could be. Classic to the city, rain was lashing down on the glass, obscuring your view of whoever your visitor was. 

Right, you could add Eggsy Unwin to the list of people who knocked this late. 

‘What the hell, Eggsy?!’ You sighed, opening the front door. Your colleague quickly rushed from where he was standing by the window, elbowing past you and into the dry warmth of your house. ‘It’s almost midnight-’

‘- I’ve been calling you for hours!’ The agent exclaimed. 

‘I’ve been working all day.’ You replied. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up at your doorstep at a stupid hour. Eggsy was your colleague, but first and foremost, he was your best friend. He had a tendency to drive you up the fucking wall and right back down again, and had done since you were in your school years, but he’d always been a little dependent on you. Whether it had been letting him crash on your sofa when his stepfather became too much, or giving him a lift home from the police station at 2AM after he’d been arrested, you always had his back. He had yours too, but you rarely needed it. Even after becoming a member of the Kingsman and essentially saving the world, you were still the first person he came too. 

After wrapping Eggsy up in a towel and escorting him to the kitchen, you placed a mug of warm tea on the table and sat beside him. Work could wait - for an hour or so at least. Chasing an internationally-reclaimed terrorist certainly took precedence over whatever your friend’s problems were, but if he needed you, he needed you. Bros before hoes might not have been the perfect saying for the situation, but the sentiment was definitely there. 

‘What’s happened now?’ You quirked an eyebrow. ‘I know it ain’t an arrest because you would have called from the station otherwise.’

Eggsy thinned his eyes at you. ‘I haven’t been arrested in two years.’

‘So what was it?’

‘I had a fight with Tilde.’ He admitted. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she’s mad at me.’

‘Were you talking before she got mad?’

‘Yeah.’

You raised your mug in the air. ‘That’s probably it then.’

‘Y/N!’ He swatted your hand away, causing tea to spill out onto the table. 

You sighed. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

‘No, I just need a place to crash.’

You stood up, leaning over the table to give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You know where the spare room is, right?’

‘That’s it?’ He pouted. ‘Tea and a squeeze on the shoulder? My life is falling apart!’

‘Don’t be a drama queen.’ You replied. ‘I have to work - and you should be too. We’re close to getting Calahan.’

Calahan was the codename for the terrorist you’d been tracking - at least his current one. The man had worked under several aliases, jumping from country to country before finally falling under the jurisdiction of the British secret services. The MI5 and Scotland Yard were too well known to work such a sensitive case; the location of their offices were publicly known, making it easier for Calahan to slip in double agents. The civilians, however, had no knowledge on the Kingsmen. A tailor’s shop was a perfectly good front for a place to set up base and track the man down. 

Thanks to your success on your previous missions, Arthur had put you in charge of finding him, with Eggsy assigned as your partner. He was just as good an agent as you, but you had little sympathy for his domestic issues. 

‘I was working on it all day.’ Eggsy held his hands up in surrender. ‘But with all due respect, Percival, I don’t work into the late hours of the night. I know how to switch off.’

‘That’s because you’re a man, Eggsy.’ You reminded him. ‘I am one of three women at Kingsman.’

‘That’s still three more than there used to be.’ 

‘You’ve already pissed off one extremely patient woman tonight.’ You warned him, referring to Tilde. ‘Do you want to go two for two?’

‘No.’ He huffed. ‘Women are just complicated.’

‘Or maybe men are just dumb.’ You smiled sweetly, before brushing a hand through his hair. ‘You should get some rest.’

‘So should you.’

‘I’m fine.’ You shook your head. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Merlin in the morning. We’ll have to leave at eight.’

‘Do I have to go? Merlin hasn’t said anything to me-’

‘- yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so.’

He couldn’t argue with that. 

--

The following morning, you were headed for the Kingsman headquarters by 9AM. Having filled Eggsy with some coffee and half a bacon-sandwich, he had cheered up considerably. You did feel for him - he had been right when he said that women were confusing - but your attention was still very much on work. That was the norm, really. You lived and breathed for your job. It wasn’t your whole identity but it was certainly your whole life. You were recruited at eighteen and now, it was all you knew. The other agents were your family. 

‘C’mon, Eggsy!’ You demanded, practically leaping out your car. Your arms were piled high with files, keys dangling from your fingers as you kicked the door to the Mustang shut. It had been a present from Kingsmen for a particularly successful mission. 

‘There’s no rush.’ Eggsy chided from behind you. ‘You should enjoy a little leisurely stroll once in a while. It might do that vein on your forehead some good.’ 

Whilst you were decked out in a blazer and black jeans, Eggsy was in his usual snapback and sports jacket. He trailed beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets as you both slipped inside the shop. It was quiet inside, the only sounds coming from the bell on the door and the sound of your heels on the polished wooden floors. You didn’t just wear them because they made your legs look endless - they doubled up as weapons too. Merlin hadn’t done anything special to them, it was just that anything was a blade if you tried hard enough. Your five inch Christian Louboutins were no different. The fact the bottoms were already red was purely a convenient coincidence. 

‘She still hasn’t called me.’ Eggsy murmured. 

‘I’m sure she will.’ You gave his arm a light squeeze. ‘Tilde loves you, Egghead.’ 

‘Fucking ‘ell.’ He let out a snort. ‘You haven’t called me that in years.’

The two of you made your way down the hall and towards the meeting room. Merlin was already sitting at the table, pens and notepads laid out in front of him. Considering that you’d worked together for years, you hardly knew the man. He was always working, always building new gadgets or arranging missions. Did he ever sleep? You wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that he’d been a droid this whole time. Someone had mentioned his name being Hamish once, but he didn’t seem like a Hamish. You always pegged him as more of a...Simon. Or a Mark. 

‘You two are late.’ He greeted you. 

‘It’s nine o’clock.’ You shot back, dropping into the seat opposite him. 

‘Early is on time.’ Merlin folded his arms across his chest. ‘On time is late.’

You rolled your eyes at the agent. ‘You know how London traffic can be.’

Choosing to ignore your comment, the Scotsman hit a few buttons on the table in front of him. The whiteboard in front of you jumped to life, lighting up with a picture of New York City - specifically, Midtown. You’d been to the city several times for work, usually to do recon or on protection details for British politicians before diplomatic visits. Outside of that, any missions in North America were outside of the Kingmen’s authority. That was when it fell to the USA’s secret services - a bunch of people you weren’t particularly fond of working with. 

‘Calahan slipped out of the country.’ Merlin stated. ‘He’s been spotted in Manhattan by several of our contacts at the Bureau.’ 

‘What?!’ You guffawed. ‘I thought we had tabs on him. You told me we had tabs on him-’

‘- let me finish, Percival.’ He cut you off. ‘We let him.’

‘You…’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘You let a known terrorist escape the borders?! You know that I’ve had tabs on him for months! Are you trying to waste my time?’

‘Calm down, agent!’ Merlin repeated, this time in a more firm tone. It was easy to let your temper get the best of you - but at the same time, it was the very thing that had allowed you to force your colleagues into submission. ‘He has more charges on his back in American jurisdiction. We have a better chance of convicting him over there.’

‘You could have told me that before I spent six months tailing him.’ You dropped back in your chair, folding your arms tightly across your chest. 

‘Your mission isn’t over.’ Merlin replied. ‘You know more about Calahan than any men here or across the pond. I want you posted in New York for a few months.’

‘Oh?’ You sat up, interest peaked. 

Working internationally was usually the first step to becoming a senior agent. It was one thing to commandeer the respect of your colleagues but to throw your name into the ring on a global scale? That was how you made it big time - and big time meant big time. Your work would go from being based in London, to taking you all over the world. Kingsman who worked on an international level could be in Moscow one day and Bogota the next. Once they retired, they were legends. It was the kind of success you’d dreamed of your whole life.

And New York was the first stepping stone. 

‘It’s only if you want it, of course.’ Merlin pulled you from your thoughts. ‘The Statesman have agreed to accommodate you, should you choose to accept.’

‘Statesmen?’ You tried to hide the displeasement in your face. ‘Like...the cowboys?’

‘Is there a problem, Percival?’

‘No!’ You quickly replied. ‘It’s just...I worked with one of them once. It wasn’t great.’

‘Here we go.’ Eggsy murmured from beside you. ‘She witnessed Agent Tequila make tea in the microwave.’

‘And I swore never to work with them again.’ You hissed under your breath, fists clenching.

‘I can see how that would be disturbing.’ Merlin agreed. ‘Though I’m not entirely sure it’s enough reason to turn down a potentially career changing mission.’

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘But I can bring my own kettle, right?’

--

‘I can’t believe you brought your own fucking kettle.’

‘And I can’t believe that Merlin is making me drag you along-’

‘- it’s only for a week.’ Eggsy held his hands up in defense.

Eggsy, who had momentarily forgotten his relationship woes, had been posted out in the city with you for the first five or six days. Merlin and Arthur had been pretty insistent on him joining you - something about making sure you didn’t blow your lid at a cowboy. It was funny, because you were usually the one babysitting him. That being said, deep down you were glad to have him there with you. It would have made settling in a little easier. 

You were moving faster than him, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors of the Statesman headquarters as you floated towards the front desk. The building was right in central Manhattan, bang in the middle of all the beautiful things New York had to offer. Not that you were going to experience many of them - you were here to work, after all. 

‘Percival!’ Agent Tequila was posted by the front desk, a grin spread across his face as your eyes met. ‘And...I know they told me your name, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘He’s Galahad 2.0.’ You stuck your hand out to Tequila, offering him the kettle. ‘This is for you.’

‘A...a kettle?’ The agent gave you an odd look. 

‘If I’m going to be working with you for the next few months, I cannot witness you making tea in a microwave.’ You explained. ‘I may murder you in your sleep otherwise.’

‘Jeez, lady.’ He muttered. He would have argued, but if there was one thing he’d learnt from your last collaboration, it was that nobody entered into a fight with you and won. ‘But it’s okay, you’re not with me this time.’

‘Oh?’ You quirked an eyebrow. Tequila began to make his way to the lift, signalling for you and Eggsy to follow. 

‘No, you’re with Whiskey this time.’ He explained, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘He’s a little more senior than me.’

‘Whiskey and Tequila?’ Eggsy muttered in your ear. ‘What’s their boss called? Pale ale?’

‘Champagne.’ You replied. 

‘Good one.’ He snorted.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You whispered back. ‘He’s actually called Champagne.’

‘Fucking hell.’ 

Yeah, you thought, that kinda sums it up.

The three of you stepped out the lift and onto the top floor. The views from the windows were almost breath-taking; it wasn’t often that you got to see 360 degree views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The skyscrapers stretched out further than the eye could see, eventually melting together in the distance where the sky met the land. It was almost breath-taking just to think about - the people, the opportunities, the magic that New York had to offer. London was your home, and you couldn’t even begin to dream of leaving, but your mind did wander off a little. 

‘Whiskey! I got your girl!’ Tequila yelled, pressing a button on an intercom outside one of the offices. He gave Eggsy a quick glance. . ‘And...the other one.’

‘Sweet Jesus, Tequila!’ A strong Southern accent came back. ‘You don’t gotta yell every time you use the fucking thing! I’m gonna be deaf as a goddamn doornail before I’m fifty.’

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Agent Whiskey stepped out. He was about the same height as Tequila, but a little older. He was wearing a cow-boy hat and there was a...was it a swagger? A spring in his step? Either way, the temptation to stick your foot out and stop him in his tracks was overwhelming. 

‘Well hello, pretty lady.’ Whiskey greeted you with a shit-eating grin. ‘I hear that you’re the little birdy who’s gonna give me Calahan?’

‘I prefer Percival.’ You monotonously replied. ‘And if I’m the little birdy that’s gonna give you Calahan, then you must be the yankee who stole him from me.’

‘Girl’s gotta bite.’ He gave your hand a shake. ‘I like that.’

‘This is Galahad.’ You pointed to Eggsy, who was inwardly holding his breath at the whole exchange. He was mentally counting down the minutes before you smacked off Whiskey’s cowboy hat. ‘Let’s see if you can acknowledge his gender three times in one breath-’

‘- okay, that’ll do!’ Your best friend pulled you back, taking Whiskey’s hand in place of yours. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whiskey.’

‘Please, call me Jack.’ The cowboy replied. 

‘Whiskey. Jack.’ Eggsy murmured under his breath. ‘Oh my days! Imagine if your surname was Daniels.’

After a brief conversation with Jack about his surname - during which you had seen Eggsy Unwin more entertained than ever before - you were taken down the hall to the agent’s office. Meanwhile, Eggsy and Tequila were escorted off to exchange some files that you’d both gathered. 

Whiskey’s office was exactly as you could have predicted; a mixture of dark wood furniture and red tones. The air smelt of his aftershave, with a hint of brandy and earth.

‘Your desk is that one there.’ Whiskey gestured to a slightly smaller set-up in the corner. 

‘I don’t get my own office?’

‘Since we’re gonna be working in close proximity, Champ figured it was best we double up.’ He explained. ‘Saves us doing a whole revolving door movement when we gotta talk to one another.’

‘Makes sense.’ You placed your bag on the desk, admiring the view for a moment. All of your files on Calahan had been uploaded to the Statesmen’s online cloud, whilst your other belongings had been delivered to the apartment you were staying in. ‘Nice view.’

‘It ain’t bad.’ Whiskey nodded. ‘You been to this neck of the woods before?’ 

‘Only when British diplomats need a babysitter.’ You replied.

‘Babysitting?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you Kingsmen do? You babysit?’

‘Why d’you think Eggsy is here?’ You shot back. ‘To babysit me.’

‘Now why would a well-mannered redcoat such as yourself need a babysitter?’ He could barely hide the grin in his voice, leaning back against the window as he peered at you over his glasses.

‘How would I put it in your terms?’ You pondered for a moment, offering Whiskey a sweet smile. ‘Is there a Southern term for I eat cowboys alive?’ 

He gulped. ‘I...I don’t think we got one for that yet.’ 

You nodded, turning your attention back to staring at the view in front of you. ‘You should come up with one. It might be useful.’ 

[multifandomfanfiction]

Superbowl Brawl

TITLE: Superbowl Brawl PAIRING: Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Champ throws a Superbowl party and Tequila starts running his mouth.

[A/N - I think we’ve agreed that Whiskey and Tequila hate each other.]

It was Superbowl weekend and the whole Statesmen agency had been invited to Champ’s ranch to watch the game.

All the boys were gathered in Champ’s ‘man-cave’ while Kalie (Codename: Daiquiri) was in the kitchen with Champ’s wife Jill.

“You should go watch the game, sweetie,” Jill told her.

“I don’t care for football, Jill. My eyes just glaze over and I cheer when the boys do.”

Jill laughed. “How are things with Whiskey?”

Kalie blushed. “Whiskey? We’re friends, that’s it.”

“Honey, that boy looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.”

Kalie tried to brush off Jill’s words. “Today would have been more fun if the girls were here.”

Ginger was busy with prior commitments and Rosé and Merlot were off together.

Most of the female operatives were given ‘girly’ drink codenames, something that Kalie didn’t appreciate.

Of course, Tequila had teased her. “Maybe when you run Statesmen, you can choose everyone’s codenames.”

Rum had thrown in his two cents. “Ha! A woman running the Statesmen? Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

Tequila and Rum were two of the most misogynistic men she’d ever met. But of course they never made those comments in front of Champ, knowing it would get them thrown out on their ass.

“We better get this food out to the boys,” Jill said.

The two women juggled appetizers.

Champ was outside grilling some meat before kickoff.

They set the food on the tables laid out.

Jill ran back to the kitchen to grab something.

“Hey, sweet thing!” Tequila called.

Kalie turned to him. “Something I can help you with, Tequila?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you be a good little housewife and go grab us some more beers?”

Kalie’s cheeks burned in embarrassment.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Whiskey snapped.

“Lighten up, old man,” Rum said, putting his hand on Whiskey’s shoulder.

Whiskey smacked his hand away.

“Cool it, Whiskey,” Tequila said.

“Unlike you, Tequila, I actually respect women.”

Tequila scoffed. “Respect women? Whiskey, you fuck anything with a…”

Whiskey stood up, towering over Tequila. “I dare you to finish that sentence.”

Tequila stood up, taking on the challenge. “You wouldn’t hurt me, old man.”

“Wanna bet? Who trained you? Let me remind you the number of times I put you on your ass.”

“Try it.”

The two men stood nose to nose.

“Stop it!” Kalie yelled, jumping in between them.

Tequila laughed. “Oh, so now you need a woman to fight your battles for you?”

That was the last straw.

Whiskey snapped and socked Tequila in the nose.

“What the fuck! You broke my fucking nose!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Champ asked, coming inside.

Tequila was doubled over, his hands to his bleeding nose.

Kalie was just barely holding Whiskey back. “Jack, stop it!” she begged, “Please. Don’t listen to him. He’s an asshole. It’s fine.”

“Fine! No it’s not fucking fine, Kalie! You don’t deserve the smart comments you get from him and Rum. I should have knocked him out too.”

“Whiskey, go to the barn and walk it off. Rum, have Jill patch Tequila up,” Champ ordered.

Rum grabbed Tequila and they left.

“Jack…” Kalie said, reaching for his face.

He grabbed her hands and pulled them off him. “Kalie, don’t. Just…don’t.” Whiskey stormed out the back door.

Brandy and Vodka sat on the couch, acting like nothing had even happened.

“I’m sorry for ruining your party, Champ,” Kalie said.

“You didn’t ruin anything, darlin’.” He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a fatherly hug.

“Better go check on Whiskey.” Kalie nodded and took her time walking to the barn. She found Whiskey in the barn, saddling up his favorite horse. “Mind if I join you?” Kalie asked.

Whiskey held out his hand. “C’mere darlin’.”

Kalie tried to calm her heart as she walked over to him.

He helped her into the saddle and climbed up behind her. “Hold on.” He lightly kicked the horse and they rode out of the barn. “I’m sorry for decking Tequila,” he said.

Kalie laughed. “Please never apologize for that.”

“I want you to know…I’ll always defend your honor.”

Kalie smiled and put her hand over Whiskey’s hand where it was resting on her stomach. “Thanks, Jack.”

[theshedding]

Cicely Tyson: Dec 19th, 1924-Jan 28th, 2021

Just last week I saw a picture of Cicely Tyson on social media and nearly lost my breath. After the year (and approximately one month of 2021) that we’ve had, managing anxiety, existential dread and the loss of long-held political norms is an hourly job filled with existential dread. And the amount of “elders” and stalwarts in communities who have died contributes to a feeling abandonment from the looming foreground of resurgent white supremacists in daily life. As if to say, given what we’re now collectively fighting (again)-we need all our cultural “hands” on deck-and we can’t afford to fight without our elder statesmen and women alongside us. 

Well it turned out last week that I was overreacting and Ms. Tyson was safe and sound-just promoting her book; no need to be anxious. Unfortunately that feeling was eerily not too far off and last night I received the actual news of the Honorable Ms. Cicely Tyson’s passing. This was deeply saddening (and still is)...not just because she’s no longer with us but because we “need” her energy in this life and fight. Fortunately however, she shared her energy and life force with us literally to the very end. For the time being what she’s left us will have to suffice and we should all be grateful for her contributions. 

Cicely’s life was full and rich and educational with poetry, prose, activism and beauty. I genuinely feel it such an honor to be alive to witness her greatness. I met her briefly in NYC back in 2001 backstage at a show with Vivian Reed at the Apollo-she was cloaked in GLORY as she descended down the small back staircase...haha. Sweet, petite and gracious.

The last time I saw her was a few years ago in 2016 at Lincoln Center for Kathleen Battle’s return performance at the Met where she performed the Sojurner Truth “Ain’t I a Woman” classic in such an arresting, memorable and masterful way. She was fully present, delivering every line flawlessly and we in the audience felt the gravity of her presence, the history of her artistry and the legacy of the piece she related to us in that moment. The concert ended with us all singing the Negro National Anthem in which she joined in.

Ms. Tyson’s life also resonates with me also because of her provenance; a dark-skinned woman of Caribbean descent and a 1st generation immigrant child. Nevis (& St. Kits) was the very first British settlement in the West Indies. I’ve been there (as a child) and it’s super small...but significant in what would become the British expansion and slave trade in the West Indies. My folks are from Tortola, not far away. So I think of her, her parents and that generation’s struggles of not just being Black in America but of the stress of assimilation and not always being accepted as fully or authentically ‘Black’, and yet still very much part of a rich cultural mix of Black diversity and representation during what would become the Harlem Renaissance. 

Amazing.

[walteinsamkeit]

Information about the Courtiers

So, here we are. This is a huge post with all the information I could possibly gather about the Courtiers. The idea for this post was born out of sheer interest in this kind of stuff and the desire to know more about it, and I figured other people might as well be interested in it. Some of this might be far-fetched, so I would like to say that this isn’t a theory in any way, shape or form. It’s just a collection of information that caught my eye or facts that I found particularly interesting. Some parts involve me drawing conclusions or making assumptions. This is how I interpreted these things. You are allowed to disagree with me, but please be respectful. More might be added to it at a later date. If you see anything that isn’t correct (including typos/spelling mistakes), or would like to add to this, make sure to contact me! If you’re missing something here and have a question that you would like answered or a thing you want to see explained, don’t hesitate to shoot me a message either. Finally, I would like to thank @gummy-vitamin-gobbler​ for being my proof reader. I honestly didn’t want to put anyone through reading this entire thing and I’m super grateful you volunteered. You’re the best <3 Proceed with caution as this text does contain spoilers!  This post is in alphabetical order based on their names, with a few general facts at the bottom of it.

General information Vesuvia’s royal court consists of five members. Their titles were given to them by Lucio when he became the Count. As reported by Valerius, the other four Courtiers were present on the night of the murder outside of Lucio’s room, thus making them key witnesses.  Quaestor Valdemar is the palace’s head physician and Julian’s former boss. They seem to be obsessed with the Red Plague and delight in the chaos the disease brought to the city of Vesuvia. Not much more is known about them. Consul Valerius, as his title suggests, is a consul to the royal Palace and reportedly a key witness to Lucio’s murder. A tarot reading done by the apprentice reveals that Valerius has his own agenda, despite seeming supportive of Nadia and her aims at first. Praetor Vlastomil, besides serving as a judge, was Lucio’s business partner. He is an eccentric man obsessed with insects, particularly with worms, and has entire rooms dedicated to them at his manor.  Procurator Volta is in charge of the city’s food supply and was essential during the Plague according to Nadia on account of her being able to smell the Plague off of people and other things. She is always hungry and never seems to be satisfied. Pontifex Vulgora is described by Nadia as a warmonger who has won many battles in Vesuvia’s name. They are extremely aggressive and obsessed with destruction, often threatening others. Quaestor Valdemar Name • Valdemar is a Scandinavian masculine name that finds its origins in the Old High German name Waldemar. It consists of the elements wald (meaning “to rule”) and mar (meaning “fame”). This German form was introduced to Scandinavia as Valdemar in the 12th century with King Valdemar I of Denmark. It’s particularly famous for being the name of many Scandinavian monarchs, and is sometimes considered to be the equivalent of the Slavish name Vladimir (meaning “of great power” or, in folk etymology, “ruler of the world”). The Old Norse form is Valdamarr (or Valdarr), which occurs in many tales and sagas.   Title • A quaestor, back in Ancient Rome, was a public official. The term quaestor translates to “investigator”. The position served many different functions that differed per time period. In the Roman Kingdom, the quaestores parricidii (quaestors with judicial powers) were appointed by the king to investigate and handle murders and capital crimes.  Headdress • The type of wrapped, horned headdress Valdemar wears is called a hennin. It was worn by European women of nobility in the late Middle Ages, and although it’s not clear what distinct styles of headdress the word hennin specifically referred to at the time, it has been recorded to be used in France as far back as 1428. However, the word wasn’t used in the English language until the 19th century. There are many different styles, such as the conical hennin generally accompanied with a veil (which is called the cointoise), the escoffin (a more heart-shaped hennin), the truncated hennin (with a flat top), the divided hennin (which was often covered in white cloth), the beehive hennin and the related Lebanese tantour headdress. The particular style worn by Valdemar seems most inspired by the butterfly hennin (thank you for this suggestion @gummy-vitamin-gobbler​!) Appearance • As stated on the Arcana Wiki, Valdemar has dirty blonde hair (as can be deducted from the color of their eyebrows) and red eyes with slit pupils, like a cat. It is to be noted that their facial structure seems very similar to that of Nadia (and her sisters), with the same nose shape and eye color, and what seems to be the same skin undertones. It is a possibility that Valdemar is from Prakra. They wear a white lab coat with an overlapping mandarin collar on which they wear their beetle brooch, shoulder length gloves, a black waist apron and a white surgical mask. While there is no existing labcoat design that looks like Valdemar’s, the buttoning style is somewhat similar to the “Howie” style lab coat, although it might be a bit of a stretch. This is a variant of the basic lab coat adopted for the added safety. The Howie coat was named after J. W. Howie, who was the President of the College of Pathologists. This style has the buttons on the left flank, elasticated wrists and a mandarin collar.  Tarot card • The card Valdemar represents is Death. Death is ruled by Scorpio, suggesting that their zodiac sign might be Scorpio. There is, however, a discrepancy at play here, considering Valerius’ sign, which we will come to later. The number of the card is 13, which is a number sacred to the Goddess as there are 13 full moons in a year. In Asra’s tarot deck, Death is portrayed by a skeleton horse. It’s not clear whether Valdemar represents the upright or reversed card meaning. Considering Valdemar’s seeming inability to let go of the Red Plague and desire for it to return, one might argue they represent Death Reversed.  In traditional decks, Death is often portrayed by an armored skeleton riding a white horse and carrying a banner. The armor is symbolic for the fact Death is invincible and unconquerable - no one can triumph over him. The white horse stands for purity, as Death is the ultimate purifier, and doesn’t discriminate between age, race or gender.  This card is probably the most feared and misunderstood out of all of them, as people often take the meaning of it far too literally. Upright, it is actually a positive card that stands for significant transformation, change, transition and new beginnings. Reversed, Death reflects reluctance to let go of the past and a refusal to accept change. 

Consul Valerius Name • A masculine name of ancient Roman origin. This was a patronymic family name derived from the Latin valere “to be strong” or “to be healthy”, and was the name of several early saints (this ties in with him representing the Hierophant card). The Valerius family was prominent from the very beginning of the Republic to the latest period of the Empire, and a lot of its members were among the most celebrated statesmen and generals. This even went as far as several of the Roman emperors claiming to be descendants of the Valerii. It’s also to be noted that there were a lot of consuls who bore the name Valerius.  Valerian is also an herb with sweetly scented pink or white flowers that has sedative and anxiolytic effects. The name of the herb is derived from the verb valere, just like the name Valerius. It has many other names, one of which is all-heal. This name is also used for plants in the genus Stachys, although one of the nicknames for this specific plant is lamb’s ears. Nicholas Culpeper, a seventeenth century astrological botanist, said that the herb was of special value against the plague.  Title • Consuls, back in ancient Rome, were magistrates comparable with prime ministers or presidents. Apart from the oldest, it was also the most important position in the cusus honorum or “course of offices”. Consuls always came in pairs and served for only one year to prevent corruption. They were the chairmen of the Senate (which served as a board of advisers), commanded the army and exercised the highest juridical power in the Roman empire. Consuls had the right to interfere with the decisions of praetors and quaestors.  Appearance • Notable about the Consul’s clothing is the golden ram brooch he wears on his shawl. In the tarot deck used in The Arcana, The Hierophant is represented by a ram. Valerius is also the only courtier who doesn’t wear a red beetle brooch, so this makes it an exceptionally remarkable feature.  Valerius wears his ombre hair French-braided and draped over his shoulder. Ombré, literally meaning “shaded” in French, describes the gradual transition from one hue to another, usually from dark to light or vice versa. Ombre was popular in fabric printing as far back as the early 19th century.  His underclothing seems to consist of what is either a jumpsuit-like one piece or two separate pieces with gold trim on the cuffs and collar.  On top of this he wears an asymmetrical, taupe, frock-inspired, tunic-like overcoat with three-quarter bell sleeves, a golden cord in the front and what seems to be some kind of button and loop fastening, also called “frog fastening” or “Chinese frog”. This is a type of ornamental braiding of sorts consisting of a button and a loop and serves for fastening the front of a garment. This particular type of closing is often found on clothing of Asian design. Frogging was also a popular type of fastening for military uniforms from the 17th to the 19th century. His shoes have gold decoration, red soles and spool heels. The hand that Valerius keeps near his body also seems to be lighter than the rest of his skin, leading me to believe he wears a glove on this hand.  Tarot card • The card Valerius most likely represents is The Hierophant. The Hierophant, in Asra’s tarot deck, is depicted as a ram. Valerius’ ram brooch seems to allude to a connection between the two. There is however one problem concerning this theory, namely that The Hierophant is ruled by Taurus, and not by Scorpio, which happens to be Valerius’ canon zodiac sign. This would make him the only known character in the entire story representing a card that does not match their zodiac sign.  The card’s number is five and it is commonly depicted as a religious figure sitting on a throne. The three elaborate vestments of his office that he wears represent the three worlds. He wears a crown and his right hand is raised in benediction - this is the same hand that the Magician has raised, but where the Magician draws raw power from the universe and manifests it on the material plane, the Hierophant channels his power through society (in the form of religion). The crossed keys of the Hierophant represent a balance between the conscious and subconscious mind, and are used to unlock mysteries.  Upright, the Hierophant means religion, group identification, conformity, tradition and beliefs. Reversed, it means restriction and challenging the status quo.  What is interesting to note is that the Hierophant is also known as the Pope, the High Priest (as a masculine counterpart to the High Priestess), the Shaman, and Chiron. Chiron is a comet with an erratic orbit. In astrology it symbolizes the “wounded healer” in the natal chart. Chiron represents our deepest wound and our efforts to heal it. In Greek mythology, Chiron was a centaur who was a healer and teacher who ironically enough could not heal himself. The symbol for Chiron is a key, much like the keys that the Hierophant himself holds, used for unlocking secrets.  The wounds of a Chiron in Scorpio native are nihilism, sexual addiction, power struggles, jealousy and obsession and trouble leaving bad relationships.  Praetor Vlastomil Name • While Vlastomil isn’t an actual name (I know, I was surprised too), Vlastimil is. It’s a common Slavic masculine name consists of the elements vlast (meaning “homeland”) and mil (meaning “favor”). This however is the modern meaning of these words and it should be said that they are derived from volsti (power, government, rule, sovereignty) and mil(a) (kind, loving, and gracious). The Latin form of this name is Patrick (I have no idea how). Patrick can be found as a name derived from the Latin Patricius, which means “nobleman”.  Title • Praetors served as judges of the Roman Republic and, in the absence of the consuls, commanded armies. It was a title granted by the government and was inferior only to senators and consuls. One could only become a praetor after serving at least one term as a quaestor. The Praetor Urbanus acted as the chief administrator of Rome and wasn’t allowed to leave the city for more than ten days. They were the main magistrate responsible for trying the people of Rome. Hat • Vlastomil’s feathered cap is called a beret. It is a soft, round, somewhat floppy, flat-crowned hat for both men and women that originates in France and Spain. It fits snugly around the head and can be shaped in a variety of ways. There are many different styles of berets and aside from it often being seen as headgear in the military it was very much beloved by European nobility and artists throughout history. The Basque style beret, which is probably the most well-known and most simple style of all, was first commercially produced in the very South of France in the 17th century. The beret that Vlastomil wears seems to be inspired by berets worn during the Renaissance, and in particular those worn by the German Landsknechte. The Landsknechte (a word combining land “land/country”, here in the sense of “lowlands”, and knecht “servant/vassal”, here in the sense of “foot-soldier”) were mercenary soldiers who were an important military force in Europe during the 15th and 16th century, consisting mostly of pikemen and foot soldiers. They wore large, slashed berets (sometime referred to as starfish hats) that, when puffed out, showed a different color fabric underneath, and were adorned with big feathers.  Although it doesn’t have much to do with the hat on itself, it should be said that the Landsknechte had a reputation for unprincipled, ruthless violence and were infamous for the fact it wasn’t unknown for entire regiments of Landsknechte to swap sides in the middle of a battle if they were offered more money or to desert en masse when there was no more gold to pay them. Appearance • Vlastomil has grey hair and white eyes with slit pupils, much like the other Courtiers minus Valerius. A very striking feature is his one visibly pointy ear with a golden earring in his stretched earlobe. There seems to be another gauge right behind the first one, but he doesn’t wear any jewelry in it.  He wears a gown that is most likely inspired by traditional ceremonial court dresses/judicial robes, although I don’t know enough about these to be able to determine which one exactly it is most similar to. The open puff sleeves with white insets are reminiscent of the slashed style of his beret. They seem inspired by the paned sleeves that were popular during the 15th and 16th century European Renaissance. Furthermore he wears fabric chausses, worn in the 14th century when they served as leg armor made from chain maille. These could extend to the knee or cover the entire leg. Tarot card • Vlastomil’s card is Justice, ruled by Libra and bearing number 11. It was in fact confirmed by the devs that Vlastomil’s zodiac sign is Libra. In Asra’s deck, Justice is represented by a boar. The traditional depiction is that of Lady Justice sitting in a throne, holding a sword in her right hand and her scales in the left. The sword signifies impartiality and victory, and the scales show that logic must be balanced by the intuition, as the left hand is the intuitive hand. It is to be assumed that Vlastomil represents the reversed meaning of Justice. Justice upright symbolizes fairness, truth, cause and effect and law. Reversed, it stands for unfairness, lack of accountability and dishonesty. Considering the Praetor’s course of action during Julian’s trial, it’s evident why he would be Justice Reversed. The card shows an unwillingness to understand, refusing to take responsibility for one’s actions and blaming others for your mistakes. It reflects a very judgmental, biased, black-and-white view of the world and under-handed behavior, all of which is incredibly dangerous while swinging the sword of justice. Procurator Volta Name • Volta isn’t an actual given name either, but there are a lot of things that is is. In a poem, the volta, or turn, serves as a rhetorical shift in thought and/or emotion. It has gone by many different names such as fulcrum, modulation, torque, swerve. Leslie Ullman called the volta the poem’s “center”, which is largely the poem’s dramatic and climactic turn. Phillis Levin said that “we could say that for the sonnet, the volta is the seat of its soul”. It’s interesting to note that the stomach was once thought to be the seat of the soul, instead of the heart or the brain (particularly in Buddhism if I am not mistaken). The Volta also a quick-moving Italian dance that was mostly popular during the 16th and 17th centuries.  Title • Procurators were officials who were in charge of the financial affairs of a province in ancient Rome. Although they worked alongside the imperial governor they were not subordinate to him and reported directly to the emperor. The procurator had its own staff and agents and had a few primary responsibilities, such as the collection of taxes and rents and the distribution of pay to public servants.  Headdress • The headdress Volta wears is a cornette, which is essentially a type of wimple. A wimple is a large piece of cloth worn around the neck and chin and covering the top of the head. The wimple was popular in early medieval Europe, where during many stages of medieval Christian culture it was unseemly for a married woman to show her hair. Originally the wimple was creased and folded in prescribed ways. Later, elaborated versions such as the cornette were supported by wire or wicker framing. Both the wimple and cornette are perhaps most famous as a headdress for nuns. Like the horned hennin, the cornette was folded in such a way as to create the resemblance of horns. In the mid-17th century, it was worn by the Daughters of Charity: a Roman Catholic society consisting of women that took care of the sick and poor and attempted to resemble ordinary middle-class women as much as possible in their clothing.  Appearance • Volta has curly, reddish-brown hair and brown eyes, although one of them is invisible due to what seems to be a lazy eye. One sharp snaggle-tooth sticks up from her bottom row of teeth. She wears what seems to be some sort of nun dress, or a habit, which were traditionally plain garbs worn by members of a religious order. The reason for this uniform outfitting was that nuns and monks had to be recognizable as such. Considering the cornette Volta wears (which is tied to the Roman Catholic society Daughters of Charity as explained above), it is most likely that her dress was based on the typical Roman Catholic habit. Ironically enough, the habit was a symbol for living a sober life in poverty and consecration, all of which seem to be the opposite of the tarot card Volta represents (as described below). Her dress has puffed sleeves and, considering the shape of it, probably an empire waist. Her shawl is clasped in the front by her beetle brooch, and she wears what seems to be a tasseled fabric and a lace fabric draped over her dress. Finally, she wears fingerless lace gloves.  Tarot card • Volta represents Temperance Reversed, as seen during the lunch scene with Vulgora and Volta in Nadia’s route where the apprentice can read the cards for one of them. Its number being 14, it is ruled by Sagittarius; traditionally the teacher of truth, enthusiasm, tolerance and beauty.  In Asra’s deck, Temperance is depicted as a dove, but traditionally it is a winged angel we can see on the card. The angel, being a child of Hermes and Aphrodite, is both male and female, symbolizing a balance between them. One foot stands on dry land (the material world) while the other stands in the water (the subconscious). It represents a need to “test the waters” before jumping headfirst into unknown circumstances. The angel carries two cups with water that are being mixed, thus mixing the sub- and super-conscious minds.  Upright the card means balance, moderation, patience, purpose and meaning. Reversed it is imbalance, excess and lack of long-term vision. As Volta is known to be extremely hungry and greedy when it comes to food, it’s clear what the element of imbalance and excess is. This conflict creates a lot of stress and tension. Temperance Reversed is also about people you are dealing with proving to be uncooperative. It may feel as though your interests are in conflict or competition with each other, and solving this may seem like an impossible feat. Although not consciously, one might still realize something isn’t quite right, and it may lead to role reversal.  Pontifex Vulgora Name • In Roman mythology, Fulgora was the female personification of lightning. She is a minor goddess and the Roman equivalent to Astrape. Astrape was a shieldmaiden of Zeus, and was given the task of carrying his thunderbolts together with her sister. She is described as “flashing light from her eyes, and raging fire from heaven that has laid hold of a king’s house”. There isn’t a lot of information to find on her, sadly. Another possible origin for Vulgora as a name could simply be the word vulgar, meaning “not suitable, simple, dignified or beautiful” or “rude and likely to upset or anger people”.  Title • The pontifex (literally “bridge builder”) was a member of a council of priests. The college of the pontifices was the most important Roman priesthood, responsible for regulating the relations of the community with the deities recognized by the state, called the jus divinum. They fulfilled duties such as for example regulating expiatory ceremonials needed as the result of pestilence or lightning. The pontifices were probably advisors of the king in all matters of religion and all held office for life.  Headdress • Like Valdemar, Vulgora wears a hennin - albeit a perhaps somewhat more historically accurate version without the fabric wrapping. Their headdress seems to be slightly more similar to an escoffin in general shape but features the same horns as Valdemar’s hennin instead of the open-centered top a normal escoffin would have. Aside from that, their hennin is veiled with a sheer cointoise attached to both steeples. They wear a neck-covering wimple much like Volta’s, making their headdress into what seems to be a combination of these three styles. Appearance • Vulgora has red hair and yellow eyes with slit pupils. They seem to wear some sort of diamond-quilted knee-length tunic with a fabric waist tie and a tasseled golden rope on top. The red-and-gold striped, puffed sleeves are alike in size to gigot sleeves. Introduced to the English court by Anne of Cleves (one of Henry VIII’s wives), these sleeves were extremely wide over the upper arm and narrow from elbow to wrist. Once more, and much like the clothing of the other courtiers, Vulgora’s garbs seem to be Renaissance-inspired in design; specifically by the Tudor clothes worn during the reign of Henry the Eighth. Back then, the type of tunic Vulgora wears was also called a petti-cote; technically a waistcoat with sleeves. Furthermore, they wear a skirted, somewhat flaring, sleeveless cloak lined with gold near the bottom. These particular pieces of clothing were worn to make physical proportions appear larger, with padded shoulders and stuffed sleeves enlarging the figure. This was done to accentuate manly features that made the wearer appear bigger and stronger.  It is hard to tell what the lower half of their arms might look like considering the clawed silver gauntlets they wear. Gauntlets like these were worn as armor, made out of hardened leather or metal plates protecting the hand and wrist. An interesting fact is that the term “gauntlet” is used in the idiom “throw down the gauntlet”, meaning “to issue a challenge”. A gauntlet wearing knight would challenge another to a duel by throwing one of his gauntlets on the ground. Picking it up meant that the challenge was accepted by their opponent.  Tarot card • The card Vulgora represents is The Tower upright. It is ruled by Mars (the planet named after the god of war), which in turn rules Aries and Scorpio. It is assumed Vulgora is an Aries to tie in with their theme of war and strife. Its number is 16.  In Asra’s deck, the Tower card shows a stag surrounded by red beetles (also note that Vulgora’s masquerade mask was a red stag beetle mask). Traditionally it is depicted by a tower aflame, tormented by lightning strikes. People are seen leaping off of it in desperation, fleeing from the destruction and turmoil. The Tower is generally one of the more negative cards in the deck. It signifies physical darkness and destruction as opposed to spiritually, and represents  ambitions built on false premises. It is however important to note that the destruction of the tower also signifies the creation space for something new to grow in a sudden, momentary glimpse of truth and inspiration.  Upright the Tower means disaster, upheaval, sudden change and revelation. Reversed it symbolizes avoidance of disaster and fear of change.  The Tower is about the destruction of inadequate foundation of false thought, belief and action. It is humbling, frightening, but necessary. It is often descriptive of a major upheaval, disruption, emergency or crisis, and is likely to bring chaos in the aftermath of such an event. Only after this will come change and regeneration. Beetle brooches All courtiers, except for Valerius, wear a red and gold beetle brooch on their clothing. As we know, these pieces of jewelry are shaped after the red beetles that are occasionally seen and mentioned in the story. They are found in a specific room in Vlastomil’s manor, as well as burrowed in the ground beneath a spring nearby Nopal and kept in a well by Valdemar in the dungeons beneath the palace. Nadia mentions that the beetles were once used to dye fabric a bright crimson red, and in Asra’s route, a local named Saguaro tells a story of how a giant red beetle was once defeated by Lucio before turning into thousands of smaller red beetles that then hid in the ground. Finally, the red beetles appear on the Tower card in Asra’s deck. They seem to play a significant role in the spreading of the Red Plague.  Judging by the general shape of the beetle, it is assumable they are based on scarabs. Scarabs held great meaning to the people of Ancient Egypt, who saw the them as symbols of creation, life, rebirth and immortality. The scarab-headed god Kephri was responsible for rolling the sun across the sky every day, where it died at night and was reborn in the morning. The sacred beetle also had protective abilities that they lend to its wearer.  The scarab beetle was also sacred to Khepera, the god of creation, resurrection and immortality (all of which seem to allude to Lucio, the ritual, the apprentice and perhaps the Arcana). It is a highly spiritual bug that carries messages that bring our attention to renewal, spiritual maturity, and the powerful influences of the invisible side of life. When a person died, it was believed that their heart was weighed by Ma’at, the goddess of truth. If the heart was heavy with sin, the spirit of the deceased was not allowed to move on to the after life. In an attempt to convince Ma’at that a person was good and deserved her mercy, scarab beetle amulets were placed over a mummy’s heart.  With the update of Lucio’s tale I feel like it’s safe to draw a few careful conclusions here. Lucio is from a wartribe referred to as the “scourge of the South”, depicted as red beetles on the tapestries that tell their tribe’s story, and referred to as “the swarm” by Lucio himself. In fact, Lucio describes his tribe as “a plague of voracious beetles, leaving nothing but bare bones in our wake”. It must be noted that the beetles kept in a well in the dungeons by Valdemar were used to dispose of the bodies of their deceased patients, as the insects were “[...] so effective at disposal” according to them. It is hinted that Lucio contracted the Plague from a beetle bite while fleeing from his mother after he failed to kill her. As stated previously in the story, the Plague is directly tied to Lucio’s life and will follow wherever he goes - as are the last words of his tale.  The Four Horsemen In my previous Arcana plot theory post, I mentioned and quickly explained the Four Horsemen theory. While you could go and read it there I will here once more explain what exactly this theory is about.  Quite a while ago when the Valerius sprite first was released, the devs jokingly mentioned that the Courtiers were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and that Valerius was the fifth Horseman. While I do not remember the precise context or interactions that took place, this was the gist of it.  At multiple points in the story it is mentioned that the Courtiers (minus Valerius) are not exactly human, or as not perceived as such by the apprentice. They are frequently described as “[having] a presence like a dark chasm” (Valdemar), a “beast” (Volta) and “not necessarily human” (Vulgora). Last but not least, Vlastomil’s manor is described by the apprentice as “confusingly designed [with] doors that lead to nowhere [and] halls that suddenly stop in dead ends, as if the manse itself were trying to disorient us” (Nadia’s route: Book VIII).  It seems as though the four Courtiers represent the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. This idea is now further supported by the wyrm in Lucio’s tale introducing himself as “the worm of pestilence”.  The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are described in the Book of Revelation - the last book of the Bible’s New Testament. The chapter says that God holds a scroll in his right hand that is sealed with seven seals. The Lamb of God, or Jesus Christ, opens the first four of the seven seals, which summons four beings that ride out on a white, red, black, and pale horse. The four riders are called Pestilence (on the white horse), War (on the red horse), Famine (on the black horse) and Death (on the pale horse). The colors of the horses also match the color schemes of the Courtiers. The Four Horsemen, as harbingers of the Last Judgement, set a divine Apocalypse upon the world.  We can now with (near) certainty say that Vlastomil is Pestilence, Vulgora is War, Volta is Famine and Valdemar is Death.  During the Last Judgement, the dead will rise from their graves after which the Second Coming of Christ (the Lamb of God) occurs. Everyone will then be judged, and will “receive what they deserve” depending on how they have lived their life. What goal this serves story-wise we can’t say just yet. 

[fdrlibrary]

On this day, 75 years ago, President Roosevelt was on board the USS Iowa en route to Algeria (and eventually Cairo and then Teheran) when the antisubmarine USS William D. Porter reported that she had accidentally fired a torpedo in the IOWA's direction. 

From the Trip Log, November 14, 1943:

During the afternoon the Iowa exercised at air defense drill, simulating the repulse of an air attack from starboard. The President witnessed this exercise from the deck just outside his quarters (first superstructure deck, starboard side). Live ammunition was fired from a number of units of the ship’s anti-aircraft battery (5–inch, 40 m. m. and 20 m. m. guns) to demonstrate for the Commander-in-Chief what a veritable curtain of fire a ship of this type can offer as a “greeting” for enemy planes bent on attacking.

While the Iowa was exercising at this anti-aircraft drill, and during the lull after one round of the series of firings, a moment of extreme tension was brought on by an unexpected explosion, of an underwater nature, in the vicinity of the ship. This explosion was followed by the terse announcement, “This is not a drill.” All hands wondered, had we been attacked? This doubt was soon cleared when the William D. Porter, our antisubmarine screen to starboard, reported by visual dispatch that she had accidentally fired a torpedo in our direction. Fortunately the wake of the torpedo had been detected and reported by the Iowa’s lookouts in time for the Iowa to maneuver and to avoid being hit. During this maneuvering, the Iowa, within the period of but a very few minutes, built up her speed to 31 knots. The torpedo passed approximately 1,200 yards astern of the Iowa, moving at an estimated speed of 46 knots and at an estimated depth of 16 feet. The William D. Porter explained the accidental firing as probably caused by moisture from previous rough seas grounding the electrical circuit from the firing pin through the impulse case and igniting the black powder impulse charge. An investigation of this incident was immediately ordered by Admiral King, the Commander in Chief, U. S. Fleet, who was a passenger in the Iowa at the time.

Had that torpedo hit the Iowa in the right spot with her passenger list of distinguished statesmen, military, naval and aerial strategists and planners, it could have had untold effect on the outcome of the war and the destiny of our country. The William D. Porter’s ship’s company presumably did not know who rode the Iowa. During the afternoon Admiral McIntire and Lieutenant Commander Fox inspected the ship’s medical department and witnessed several major operations.

Photos from the National Archives: Series: Construction and Launching of Ships.

[apricops]

📓 Event: The Soulhackers

Manorpunk 2069 AD

Recognizing spirituality as too useful to ignore, either as a method of maintaining personal sanity or as a tool of social control, the Soulhackers developed several different constructed religions during the Nth Great Awakening (We Lost Count).

The Suburban Samurai of the exurban East Coast and Midwest developed Founder-Christianity, better known as Founderism - a formalized version of American Civil Religion with the Founding Fathers revered as saints and a generic Jesus slapped on top. It’s like the Rawhide Kobayashi version of imperial Shintoism, and is best known for creating the Deck of Statesmen, a Tarot-like deck of cards featuring mythologized figures of American political history and used for divination and fortune-telling.

Meanwhile, the Hyperwonks of the Bay Area developed Hill-and-Hive, a dour and fatalistic set of beliefs summarized by the slogan “ants make hills, bees make hives, humans make states” - in other words, we are biologically predestined to form the State, and should surrender ourselves to evopsych.

This initial form of Hill-and-Hive was, understandably, not very popular. It would have gone down in history as a curious footnote, but then a few years later it reinvented itself as the State Pantheon: a collection of demigods intended to represent ‘the eternally recurring aspects of the State,’ such as the quick-witted and androgynous Eunuch of Knowing, the diligent and ruthless Void-General, and the cold yet loving Queen-Mother.

(A few holdouts who preferred the original version of Hill-and-Hive formed a splinter group called the Neo-Neo-Confucians, but that was mostly an excuse to get the CCP (Chinese China Party) to cut them a check.)

These new faiths leaped into the American conscious after reaching the Westphalian Polycule of Seattle, and now converts of both Spiritualisms are appearing in our [PLAYER_POLITYRANK].

Choose One:

We shall adopt the State Pantheon.

Gain Polytheistic Tchotchke Market modifier for 10 years: +15% income from Treats; -10% Vibes

We shall adopt Founderism.

Gain Divination Cottage Industry modifier for 10 years: +15% income from Content; -10% Vibes

Can’t we all just get along?

Gain Ingratiating Centrism modifier for 5 years: -10% Attention

[crawldepth-blog]

Journalism Fiction

Stories about journalists almost cross a taste threshhold into self-licking-ice-cream-cone territory. Depending on your disposition toward The Press, journalism fiction can entertain or annoy one. Reporters, editors, newspapermen, on-air anchors, and all of their peers rarely find positive purchase in the hearts and minds of American audiences. As far back as the 18th century, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin regularly and unfetteredly manipulated newspaper media and their enterprise to achieve political goals. Still, for every negative perception of a journalist one hears these days, stalwarts will remind you of Dustin Hoffman’s and Robert Redford’s winsome portrayals of Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward in All the President’s Men.

Two very different but equally powerful stories about journalism unfolded in the comics medium in the past 20 years. Both of these series exemplify the gritty requirement for modern journalism using near-future settings into which morally grey protagonists dance with darker elements of their reporting subjects. From 1997 to 2002, writer Warren Ellis and artist Darick Robertson delivered 62 issues of Transmetropolitan through DC Comics’ Helix and Vertigo imprints. Transmet (as it is sometimes called by fans) follows one Spider Jerusalem, a modern media journalist in an anonymous city of the far future, as he ruthlessly pursues the truth in a raucous upheaval of politics, neo-futurism, and drugs. The second series, DMZ (also a DC Comics Vertigo publication), ran from 2005 to 2011 in 72 issues written by Brian Wood and illustrated by Riccardo Burchielli. DMZ explores a Second American Civil War where New York City becomes a demilitarized zone between the USA and the insurgent, non-territorial Free States of America. Journalist Matty Roth embeds into the DMZ to capture and tell the stories of the people caught between the two warring polities. Both series are available in collected print and digital editions.

Warren Ellis, known for grotesquely humorous yet disgusting comics and novels, wrote Transmetropolitan as an homage to the work of noted gonzo journalist and madman Hunter S. Thompson. Transmet also enabled Ellis to place his Thompson shadow, Spider Jerusalem, into a neofuturist cyberpunk world replete with cancer-killing supplements that enabled widespread cigarette smoking, inhalable microscopic robot psychadelics, and evolved police dogs conversant in your local language. Spider, previously driven mad by The City and its reckless aphorisms of transhumanism, returns to write a column for reputed newspaper, The Word.

Spider’s stories initially focus on the WOW FUTURE! aspects of Ellis and Robertson’s world. Spider inserts himself into the activities of each story, influencing outcomes so as to find the truth wherever possible. He writes exposes about a movement of citizens seeking transformation through alien DNA called The Transients, and how their leader conspires with local police to incite a riot that leads to a mass murder of Transient citizens. He also writes about cryogenically preserved people who had prviously died and now recently revived and cured of their illnesses, and how these people become shellshocked depressives unable to function normally or healthily in The City society that has changed so much from the time they were frozen. In these stories and more, Spider’s text guides the Transmetropolitan reader through humanistic considerations of each of these future scenarios. His narration becomes not just mere reporting but also a summary of the emotions one might feel toward each issue or scenario that Spider reports.

While the entertainment value remains high due to Spider’s inherent Thompson-like interactions with drugs and weapons throughout his investigations, the reader often leaves Transmet stories with an unsettled feeling about the near-future technology and cultural phenomena that Ellis explores. It’s not meant to be an easy pill to swallow. The series’ small one-off stories become morality plays in which Ellis uses Spider to unpack the philosophical, cultural, and technological implications of these stories. This serves a dual purpose as both an engaging comic book story but also an iterative insight into Spider’s own mentality, something crucial for the slow-build, underlying long story of the comic.

Ellis’ Thompson homage becomes even more clear when Spider engages in a crusade against American presidential candidate Gary Callahan. “The Smiler,” as he is derisively called, bears frightening correlations to several conservative presidents, from Nixon to Bush. Spider spends the majority of Transmet waging a journalistic war against Callahan, seeking to expose crimes the president committed and fighting off an increasingly harrassing law enforcement community. Spider’s quest for “The truth, no matter what” makes him a target for Callahan, who becomes increasingly unhinged as Spider’s investigations hit closer and closer to home. Readers experiencing Transmet for the Thompson allegories will quickly find shades of Nixon in Callhan and tingle with excitement as Spider’s story mirrors Thompson’s own journey in Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72.

Even as a product of its time, at its conclusion in 2002, Transmetropolitan bears eerie comparisons to the Trump presidency. Sixteen years later, the only thing that has changed between these worlds is the propensity for the crimes Spider elucidates being more visible and yet somehow less important to the masses. Spider himself is regarded as a hero for his writing and the investigative paths he takes to find the truth, but he pays a high price for it. While we love our drugs, so too does Spider, and we all turn to them to forget the latest presidential tomfoolery. Spider’s indulgence, however, costs him his health, which becomes an unsettling metaphor for the high mental cost paid by today’s journalists and intellectuals in the Trump age. Spider’s bloody, bruised battles (painfully depicted in inky blacks and bowel disrupting browns by Robertson) over the surveillance state, climate change as a weapon, presidential overreach, and a president’s war against the media itself all provoke uncanny comparisons to today, Our Foul Digital Nightmare.

Transmetropolitan will stand the test of time with its subject matter, and it should stand as a rallying cry for journalists everywhere. Hunter Thompson died in 2005, an ignominius end to the father of “gonzo journalism,” which became a curious yet forbidden attraction for many journalists seeking to break the stolid necktie-wearing mandate of elder statesmen journalists and Do All The Drugs. Spider Jerusalem’s adoption of Thompson’s outrageousness begs the question of whether that typically disapproving behavior tarnishes a journalist in this day and age... or does it add something that this day and age needs? Journalists today are constantly humiliated and attacked by the sitting president, and female reporters often lewdly so. Perhaps Spider Jerusalem can teach today’s journalists a lesson in dealing with such a foul personality: maybe you need a trusty bowel disruptor gun to break through the bullshit screen these days. Maybe Spider’s drug abuse is necessary to deal with the mental degradation of today’s news landscape, the promise of self-care too passive and mentally insecure for A Smiler or A Beast. In any case, Transmetropolitan’s relation to today’s context will become intimately familiar to readers right away and its lessons clear.

Wood and Burchielli’s DMZ takes a different approach to the challenge of journalists becoming involved in the stories they investigate. Wood directs his setting toward perceptions of the U.S. military by depicting an aftermath of five years of armed conflict between Americans in Manhattan. An undercurrent of uncertainty and anxiety runs through DMZ every time a military element appears in Burchielli’s panels. It could be the battle-rattle-bearing soldiers escorting Matty Roth to the helicopter that is utlimate shot down in Manhattan,  stranding him in the DMZ. It could be the ever-present whispers of the U.S. Army’s perceived atrocities in killing not only members of the Free States Armies but also hundreds of innocent, unarmed protesters, an act that permeates the opening of the book and explains the uncomfortable stalemate between the USA and the FSA in which Matty finds himself.

Matty - a photojournalist initially only accompanying another award-winning reporter who is killed in the helicopter crash - discovers that he is the only journalist on the ground with an uninterrupted connection back to the real world. In this rubble-strewn, war-torn New York, Matty seeks to understand the lives of the people trapped in the DMZ, all of whom could not evacuate before the last USA/FSA showdown there. Many of these people just want to live their lives safely and securely. What strikes the reader as they encounter characters with Matty in DMZ is the indomitable post-9/11 spirit of New Yorkers clashing with the hopelessness and fear of a post-Katrina New Orleanian or a post-riot Fergusonian. DMZ features a much realer take on cultural wariness of order than Transmet because Wood and Burchielli enable story elements familiar to all of us: faceless soldiers decked out in combat gear pointing weapons at unarmed black children, bombed-out buildings overgrown with vegetation and disease, the impoverished left behind or manipulated unknowingly by those with power.

DMZ asks “What if it happened here?” and uses familiar uncomfortable social elements to answer that question. Matty’s journey changes from journalist to activist as he navigates this broken world, and he eventually sacrifices his own journalistic morals to take up with one of the many DMZ factions, first telling their story and later literally taking up arms and killing on their behalf. It is through this experience of shedding his journalist ambitions and becoming part of a movement that Matty understands how much everything around him is propaganda. He finds himself manipulated, lied to, and coerced time and again for a variety of unintended outcomes even as he, in parallel, expresses his own beliefs in supporting the coercing parties.

Matty, unfortunately, acts as a stark reminder of how the media can be controlled. Despite being DMZ’s protagonist, Matty exhibits plenty of douchey, unbecoming behavior that purposely turns off the reader midway through the series. While this serves DMZ’s story well, the slimy nature of the character’s turn hits one hard in the gut as they think about the journalism profession writ large. How many times have you been let down by your favorite reporter? How did it feel when Dan Rather resigned from CBS News in the wake of his arguably suspect story about George W. Bush’s National Guard service? Like Transmet, a lesson can be implied from DMZ’s problematic journalist as well. While Transmet argues for the importance of journalists being involved in their stories, DMZ seems to do the same at first but then pulls the rug out from under the reader by showing how Matty’s decision to get involved leads to mass murder. “Watch your back, Jack,” DMZ warns. Sometimes doing the right thing, even in the best of circumstances, can turn around and backfire on you if you do not think about all the angles of the story and the long-term implications of its publication.

To be fair, Matty ends up doing the absolute right thing in choosing to face his trangressions and answer for the crimes in which he has become embroiled, wittingly or unwittingly. Poignance abounds from the story’s conslusion as the reader considers a new New York, one that emerges from the back end of the Second American Civil War to prominence and beauty. Despite the twisted journey of Matty Roth, DMZ is still ultimately all about New York in its great melting pot parable that mirrors the United States as a whole. So satisfying are small stories of New York’s people like the DMZ’s powerless communities growing vegetables on roofs, a grafitti artist struggling to make art in a war zone, and even the special operations detachment that left the U.S. Army rather than engage civilians who live in and guard Central Park. All of these stories contribute to an unshaken sliver of positivity that it is not yet too late for the people of the DMZ... and maybe for all of us too.

[ltwilliammowett]

The Eliza Ann

The story of the Eliza Ann began two days after Christmas in 1833. On that day, a Bermudian fisherman found what appeared to be an abandoned schooner floating among the reefs near Ely's Harbour. Thinking of a possible salvage and the resulting profit for himself, he rowed out and saw that the bow of the wreck was partially submerged. As he came alongside, the would-be salvor's eagerness turned to horror as his eyes fell on the grotesque figures sprawled on the deck. He called out to them, but there was no reply. Climbing over the side of the wreck, he discovered a crew of skeletons! Full of panic, he jumped into his boat and rowed as fast as he could to Ely's Harbour. 

Shipwreck (not the Eliza Ann - Wreck of the “Oregon” under Picklecombe Battery, Plymouth Sound. 1867. Source: Illustrated London News.)

News of his encounter with a "ship full of skeletons" spread quickly throughout the islands. It was not long before a dozen fishing boats set out for the wreck.  Eventually it was towed into the harbour and pulled onto the beach by the authorities for further investigation.  Any sailor could see that the wreck was once a beautiful ship. It must have drifted for many months, for its beams were worm-eaten and rotten. The paint that bore her name had faded.

And everyone wanted to know what had happened to her and her crew. The skeletonised remains were carefully brought ashore and examined for clues by the officials in charge. A chain with a silver medal was found around the neck of one of the victims. The inscription read, "Awarded by the School Board as a reward for services to Wm. Brown, the gift of Franklin".  Underneath were crossed pens over an open book. On one of the skeletons, the name J. Seaver was discovered sewn into the clothing, while another had the name N. Seaver. Investigators suspected that these poor souls must have been Americans, as they had a connection to Franklin.  The papers found in the cabin were damaged and illegible. The ship's cargo included rotten meat and fish as well as sperm candles, cider, brandy and lumber. The barrels containing the beef, pork and mackerel were marked "Boston, September, October and November 1832".

Reports of the discovery of the wreck were published in the local weekly newspaper, the Bermuda Royal Gazette, over the next month. At first, the paper stated succinctly that a wreck of unknown origin had been found on the bottom of the reefs and towed to Ely's Harbour. A week later, on 7 January 1834, the newspaper reported that the wreck had been righted and unloaded and that "some human bones were found in its cabin". On 21 January, the Gazette described the medal found on one of the victims on the wreck and the fact that the names Seaver and Brown were widely used in Massachusetts.  Eventually, news of the disaster reached the United States.

When Bostonians read the local Statesmen on Saturday morning, 8 February 1834, they were shocked by the description of the wreck in Bermuda and the grisly remains on board. The description of the schooner matched that of the Eliza Ann, which was captained by a Captain Brown.  The Eliza Ann belonged to James Brown, a well-known Boston merchant. On board was William Brown, one of the winners of the Boston Franklin Medal of 1829, who wore the silver medal on a chain around his neck. His brother James was also on board. The schooner's captain, Captain Brown, was a nephew of the shipowner, and among the passengers were Joshua Seaver and his brother, which might not have happened if they had travelled separately, which they should never do. Because what does superstition say ? Never serve with siblings on the same ship, it never ends well. 

What we know is that the Eliza Ann had sailed from Boston on 11 December 1832 for Puerto Rico, but never arrived. So we know her sad fate, but not what happened on that last voyage, and no one knows to this day.

[justforbooks]

Rebirth Of A Legend

While the 1950s and 1960s produced many remarkable personalities, few public figures had the charisma and audacity of the late Aristotle Onassis, the Greek shipping magnate who converted a warship into the yacht Christina, one of the most glamourous private yachts ever built. Inseparable from his ocean-going palace, Onassis lived aboard for decades, reveling in a life of partying and pleasure that by turns made him hated, envied and admired while attracting the global celebrity set of the era to his jewel of the seas, now reborn as Christina O.

This is one yacht that cannot be fully appreciated without knowing a little about her larger-than-life owner, a man who created the boat as an extension of himself and his professional and personal ambitions. Ari Onassis was not the first yachtsman to understand that by pampering influential guests he could open doors that might otherwise remain closed. And life aboard Christina was an endless round of lavish self-indulgence. Ex-King Farouk of Egypt, a frequent visitor and a man whose appetite for the good life would eventually drive him into exile, referred to the yacht as “the height of opulence.” The actor Richard Burton said, “I do not believe that any man or woman in the world would resist the temptation and the pure narcissism shamelessly flaunted on this boat.”

Onassis was immensely proud of Christina and insisted on escorting his guests on guided tours from stem to stern and deck to dazzling deck. All the bathrooms were in marble, the fittings in gold. There was a fireplace encrusted with lapis lazuli at a cost of a dollar per square centimeter. The dining room included frescoes by Marcel Vertes representing the family throughout the seasons: Tina, Onassis’ first wife, skating, and Alexander and Christina picnicking in the grass.

Other artwork had less exalted origins, the two El Grecos, for instance. Onassis knew these were fakes, but as he once said, “If people want to believe they are authentic, why spoil their pleasure.”

The décor in the nine guest suites was inspired by the Greek islands after which they were named. Onassis’ children, Alexander and Christina, used to occupy the Chios suite and the Ithaca suite respectively, although Christina would give up her place when Greta Garbo, Maria Callas or Jackie Kennedy came aboard.

There were also the Santorini, Mykonos, Lesbos, Andros, Crete, Rhodes and Corfu suites. All contained wood and stone work that had been brought in from the Greek islands, the beauty of the materials chosen to enhance the guests’ pleasure.

The most beautiful suite was that of Onassis himself. Located on the pilothouse deck, where it remains today, it consisted of three rooms: the stateroom, an office containing a Louis XV desk, and an ostentatious bathroom. In addition to gold fittings, the bathtub in blue Syene marble was surrounded by a mosaic depicting fish scenes in the style of the lost palace of King Minos of Knossos.

His taste might, in our politically correct world, be regarded as intolerably crude, perhaps, but he was a man of his times, fabulously wealthy, unapologetic and unashamed of his virility. In Ari’s Bar on the main deck the stool seats were covered with the tanned foreskins of whales. The footrests were whales’ teeth and the ivory armrests were engraved with scenes from the Iliad and the Odyssey, Onassis’ favorite epics.

During one cruise, the famously aloof Greta Garbo was seated at one of the stools in Ari’s bar when her host entered and said, “Madam, do you realise you’re sitting on the biggest penis in the world?”

With two chefs, one French and one Greek, Christina’s galley offered the finest dishes and rarest wines, with Onassis fussing over the smallest details on the menu. Among the crew there were two hairdressers, a butler and a Swedish masseuse. There was an elevator, an operating theater with radiography equipment, a telex and a network of 42 telephone lines.

Whether it was in the harbor at Monte Carlo or cruising off Venice or in the Caribbean, Onassis sailed with the stars. The parade on Christina’s guest list included Marilyn Monroe, Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, Frank Sinatra, Liza Minelli and Rudolf Nureyev. Among the heads of state, industrialists and high ranking statesmen: John Kennedy and Sir Winston Churchill. Rockefellers, Rothschilds, Paul Getty, Prince Rainier and Princess Grace—all were there at one time or another. Britain’s wartime Prime Minister was such a revered guest that Onassis gave up his own suite whenever Churchill visited, an honor never conferred on anyone else. And Churchill, who was aboard for eight cruises between 1958 and 1965, must have enjoyed the company of his host, who could in turn be a public entertainer, a political or a cultural critic, all with surpassing intelligence, charm and insight.

Christina was also the stage for Ari’s endless amorous adventures, and in that respect the summer cruise of 1959 was a blend of high drama and bedroom farce, because this was when Onassis finally won over Maria Callas after she came aboard with her husband. In the course of a few days, the other guests witnessed the break up of two couples and the start of one of the more sensational love affairs of the era. Its notoriety was eclipsed only by his subsequent marriage to former First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy.

Christina started life as a Canadian Navy River Class Frigate, HMCS Stormont, built in 1943 by Vickers of Montreal. After distinguishing herself in the Normandy landings, she became a surplus relic. Onassis bought her in 1952 as part of a block purchase of ten ships from a Baltimore scrap merchant, John Shapiro. His plan was to build a fleet of whalers in collaboration with the Greek government, and when this enterprise fizzled Onassis kept the Stormont for himself. Shapiro said later, “I sold her to him for the scrap value.”

Onassis had showed his sharp nose for business, paying $50,000 (some put the figure at $34,000) for a ship of 1,724 tons, propelled by steam engines developing 6,500 hp that gave her a top speed of 21 knots. There is no record of what happened to her four 20 mm Oerlikon machine guns, various cannons and 145 depth charges. What mattered to her new owner was that at 327’ LOA and 36’6” beam she could be converted into something quite exceptional. Onassis chose the Howaldt Werke shipyard in Germany for the conversion, pouring in a total of four million dollars; and he paid great attention to the work, intervening personally on many occasions during a project that lasted a year and a half.

He commissioned a German professor of architecture, Caesar Pinnau, who created harmonious, classic lines, characterized by a very high stern. All did not go smoothly with the work, however, as there were many complicated challenges to overcome. The stem, for example, had to be rebuilt in one piece and welded to the existing skeleton. But it was above all Onassis’ demands that posed seemingly insoluble problems.

He wanted Christina to carry a fleet of tenders, a normal requirement aboard large modern yachts today but unheard of in postwar Europe in the early 1950s—as indeed were large private yachts themselves. In addition to two lifeboats, Christina was to house five fast launches, a glass bottomed boat for underwater observations, a small dinghy, two kayaks, a Fiat 500, and a five-seater seaplane, the famous Piaggio. This armada meant that the engineers had to resolve many stability calculations. Part of that problem was settled when Christina became one of the first yachts fitted with Vosper stabilizers.

For the comfort of the passengers there was an electronic climate control system that also regulated the temperature of the swimming pool; the pool could be transformed into a dance floor, and this raised the question of providing enough electricity to the ship’s systems. Demand was so great that Christina’s four generators had to run almost continuously and so required special soundproofing.

Onassis took delivery of his jewel in October, 1954. By then, Christina had little in common with Stormont. Her hull had been lengthened by 29’ and only her engines and forecastle had survived the extensive conversion.

As fabulous as the life of the Christina was, her decline was just as spectacular. After Onassis died in 1975 the boat became the property of his daughter, Christina. Jackie Kennedy Onassis owned 12.5 percent, the same share she had in the private island of Skorpios, but she abandoned her rights after bitter negotiations in which Christina Onassis tried to compel Ari’s widow to renounce all claims to the inheritance. The dispute was settled for $26 million. Christina kept the yacht that bore her name and continued to maintain it as her father had, and in 1978 she made a gift of the boat to the Greek government. An unfortunate move, as it turned out, because after using her for state functions in the early days, the government abandoned her and the looters took over. Among the greatest losses was the famous Syene marble bathtub.

Christina continued to rot until 1991 when one Alexander Blastos came into the picture and said he wanted to buy the boat and bring her back to life. Blastos was a self-described financial genius; he had the paperwork to prove it, and his offer of $2.2 million at public auction was immediately accepted. Sadly, his deposit check for $220,000 bounced. Investigation showed that Blastos had over-stated his credentials. He was actually a waiter from Keene, New Hampshire, and it was in New Hampshire that he was eventually charged with fraud. At his trial the court learned that between 1991 and 1995, in addition to swindling various people out of money and airline tickets, he had also commissioned a complete and reportedly superb redesign of Christina from the Luigi Sturchio studio. That project went nowhere. Ex-waiter Blastos got five years and was fined $250,000.

Serious buyers appeared, among them Peter Tauck, whose company bought the yacht in 1998, only to sell her again to John Paul Papanicolaou, a ship owner and friend of the Onassis family. With a group of investors, Papanicolaou and Tauck organized a refit with the intention of offering the yacht for charter, either for a private party or by the cabin, as on a cruise ship. From the outset, their avowed objective was to restore Christina to her former glory.

Considerable design work was required beforehand, and this was undertaken by the Greek naval architect Costas Carabelas. The refit contract went to Viktor Lenac, a Croatian shipyard, and work began in January, 1999 with the removal and storage of interior fittings. At the Lenac yard one of the first tasks was to clean the hull with high-pressure water jets, the force of which opened up two enormous cavities in the steel.

When ultrasonic measurements were made to test the rest of the plating it was found that 65 per cent of the hull needed replacing, not the 20 per cent originally predicted, which meant that instead of drydocking the boat for 60 days, as anticipated, she spent 345 days in it.

Christina O was delivered to her new owners last July 24 after 16 months of intensive work requiring a total of 1.2 million man hours and an estimated cost of $50 million. In all, 560 tons of new steel had to be added. It is now half an inch thick (12 mm), in compliance with the exacting SOLAS (Safety of Life at Sea) regulations governing a charter yacht.

The SOLAS standards highlighted other major problems. The sun deck or compass deck where the Galaxy Bar occupied an area of about 1,600 square feet, could not, for stability reasons, be decked in teak. This extra weight of several tons 33’ above the keel would indeed upset the stability of the boat which, incidentally, is now fitted with two sets of Vosper stabilizer fins.

Because the vessel is very low on the water, most of the lower deck portholes were eliminated, leaving only those installed in staterooms at the aft end of the ship. The fire control system was redesigned and prop shafts aligned, a vastly complicated operation because of their length. Cold rooms, an incineration chamber and garbage compactor were installed to serve the new, professional galley on the lower deck.

The three original steam engines extended through three decks, occupying a huge volume amidships. Their replacement by two MAN diesels of 2,775 hp each has greatly increased space in this area. The MANs are placed farther aft, rendering the funnel duct redundant.

Additional space has also been gained on the main deck, which now has a 1,000 sq. ft. dining room. This is flanked on each side by relaxation areas with sofas, a gaming table and a piano. On this same mid- or promenade deck, there is a new gym and a lounge decorated in the style of an English clubroom.

The staterooms on the main deck have hardly changed, but in order to house more passengers a new accommodation area has been created at the aft end of the lower deck in the crew’s former quarters. Now there are eight guest staterooms, which increases the guest capacity to 36 people, without counting the famous Onassis suite. This remains one of the most beautiful apartments on the boat, with the main changes in the furnishing of the bathroom, which has an immense shower stall and a marble bathtub.The funnel has been retained, along with its trademark yellow color, but it is now a dummy, housing an air conditioning system and a back-up generator set, again complying with SOLAS standards. The new engine exhaust has been created in the form of an aft mast and takes up a lot less room than that of the old system. Similarly, the arrangement for stowing the ship’s tenders has opened up extra space. There are less of them and they are smaller than in Onassis’ time, but positioning them around the funnel and on the foredeck has created new exterior layout possibilities.

Among some of the elements preserved from the Onassis era are the wall lights, the leather settees in his suite, and the onyx and silver handrail of the monumental stairway. Ari’s Bar has been preserved largely intact, though the famous stools have been recovered with leather but retain their whale teeth footrests. The Atlas on the wall, which incidentally was in a very good state of preservation, has also been kept. The Lapis Lounge abaft the bar retains much of its former ambiance even if, for safety reasons, the fireplace decorated with lapis lazuli is no longer functional—and works by Renoir, Le Corbusier and Chirico can now be found here. The fake Grecos are gone.

For the rest, the classical decoration reflects Mediterranean inspiration with light-colored tones strengthening an abundant luminosity. The best fabrics from Mulberry and JR Scott have been used, with elegant furniture by Giorgetti.

In short she has regained much of what she had before, class and beauty, two of her late owner’s most cherished ideals.

In her time the old Christina became the epitome of opulence, a shrine for celebrity worship and a dockside paradise for tabloid paparazzi. Above all she may be remembered as an object of desire created by the forceful personality of the man who married Jacqueline Kennedy.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[costumesandphoenixes]

💕 [ from loki ]

@neverparted {} send 💕 to just grab my muse & kiss them!

The sounds of blades clashing usually filled the air of the deck that had been set aside for warrior training. There weren’t many onboard the Statesmen, but those that were would come here on and off to either practice solo, or with each other. But now it was just her and Loki, the air almost deathly quiet.

Earlier Aiden had already gotten a chance to spar with the Valkyrie (her real name yet to be learned), and had certainly enjoyed that. They’d traded some moves, and both agreed to do so again sometime. It reminded the phoenix of her time spent with Sam, sparring with her and doing their fight scene recreations. However her nostalgia didn’t last long when another person entered the room, interrupting her solo practice.

Loki.

After their escape from a burning Asgard, she and the God of Mischief hadn’t spoken much at all. Something Aiden was keen to rectify. But first, their current location reminded her of something else that needed to happen.

A rematch.

He’d fought without using any of his magic, and she was most certainly impressed. Primarily a magic user he may have been, but his martial skills were definitely not anything to discount. She’d caught glimpses of him fighting on the Bifrost, but had been too busy with her own battles to pay too close attention. They’d gone back and forth, across the whole room, he with his two daggers and she with a short sword. She’d managed to get him down to one dagger, but he’d completely disarmed her,  which lead to their current position. 

He had her pinned against the wall, dagger at her throat. Her eyes were locked with his and they were both panting. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and somehow…it wasn’t just because of the exertion. Loki was almost right up against her. It would be easy for her to nut him and continue the fight. But she didn’t. Something kept her right there. Her brain screamed for her to move, but her heart… Her heart that had never been able to totally hate him, that remembered he’d freed her, that bore an ache that she couldn’t define every time she thought of him… Her heart told her to stay right there.

There was the sound of his dagger clattering to the metal floor and their mouths were on each other’s. 

[sageglobalresponse]

No plans by APC Reps to dump party, says Doguwa

Mr Alhassan Ado-Doguwa, the Majority leader in the House of Representatives, says there was no plans by any of the All Progressive Congress (APC) Representatives to leave the party for the People’s Democratic Party (PDP).

Ado-Doguwa, member representing Tudun Wada/Doguwa constituency in Kano State, disclosed this in a statement issued to newsmen in Kano.

“My attention has been drawn to a spurious and specious claim by Ndudi Elumelu, the Minority leader, that some imaginary members of the ruling party have met with him to discuss their desire to join the sinking opposition party.

“My reaction was to ignore this delusion, but because of the consideration for unsuspecting and innocent members of our great party and constituents who we represent at the House of Representatives, we owe them this clarification.

“It is a fact that there was an executive session of the House, which was indeed convened by the leadership for the sole purpose of further discussions about the way out of the insecurity situation in the country.

“It must be noted that Members across the partisan divide were too busy and occupied with the sense of duty and obligation to our nation’s wellbeing to have time for parochial and narrow prism thoughts of partisan politics and membership recruitment.

“It therefore remains a curious slant that Elumelu in the heat of the current situation does not have the presence of mind to face squarely the matter that affects every Nigerian rather he is opting to embark on a voyage of political philandering of looking for new members for an opposition party that is like a sinking ship beyond salvage.

“It clearly shows the kind of opposition we have.

“If the minority leader will want to use the meeting of their party to announce a non existent news of members of the ruling party trying to decamp to a party in dire straits bereft of solutions.

“I wish to affirm without any doubt that the infantile claim of the minority leader that some members of the APC in the House of Representatives are thinking of joining the PDP remains a figment of his imagination and that of his co-travellers on that journey.

“With all emphasis, I say that members of the APC are focused, too united, determined and fully committed to working with President Muhammadu  Buhari and standing in one accord with all Nigerians at this time to find a lasting solution to the challenge of insecurity that does not recognise partisan tendencies.

“We believe that working together with the leadership of the House of Representatives, under the leadership  of Speaker Femi Gbajabiamila, who had pushed concrete legislative support actions to stem the tide of insecurity challenge.” he said.

According to Ado-Doguwa, the most recent of such interventions of the Speaker was the setting up of a non-partisan broad spectrum special ad-hoc committee on security.

He added that the committee is currently working out the modalities to hold a week-long crucial security Summit, where statesmen, security chiefs, and other relevant stakeholders will converge to proffer solutions to the rather lingering security problems bedeviling our country.

“Without doubts, we shall be counted as an integral and veritable partner and component that worked to defeat this national challenge, and when we do, which will be soon, it with be all reasonable hands on deck.

“This is our sacred commitment as Members of the APC in the 9th House of Representatives beyond the lousy tendencies of a sinking opposition party,” he said.

#apc #nigeria #house of representative