#this company is also pretty well known all over europe so the pay will also be good which is nice

[poisoneitherway]

I got a new job 🥳 i'll be leaving retail (hopefully) for good soon.

[emylilas]

Seemed fitting for the day...

Feel free to share what you think these stories should be about, here’s my plot so far:

Mary works in a nursing home. There's been an elderly patient called Luisa that she has been taking care of over the last six months. Luisa's granddaughter, Shannon, is coming back from her trip around the world, in the first week of January — she's been to all the places her grandmother wished she could have visited and has sent photos that have been decorating the walls of the hospital bedroom. That's how Mary recognises Shannon the first time she sees her in the lobby. 

Shannon spends much of her time with her grandmother, sometimes they ask Mary to join them in her free time to play a game with them or to watch Grey's Anatomy that Luisa absolutely loves watching and criticising.  Luisa feels like Shannon and Mary could get along well. Her own personal mission will be to set them up on a date for Valentine's Day, she lets Shannon's sister, Ava, know about her plan and of course Ava is in.

Mary shares an apartment with Lilith. They've known each other their whole life and they're the only loving family they've ever had. Suzanne is often with the two of them, she's in a band, The FBC, with Lilith, Adriel and Vincent.

Sadly, the band is threatened by Adriel and Vincent's divorce caused by Adriel's affair with Kristian. They both hired lawyers with a very good reputation but just like Vincent and Adriel can no longer stand each other, Jillian Salvius, Adriel's lawyer, and Francesco Duretti, Vincent's, absolutely despise each other.

A month before Valentine's Day, the band is supposed to play but Adriel has invited Kristian so Vincent refuses to play and leaves. Adriel leaves too because there's no point to this band anymore. Lilith and Suzanne have to improvise a whole show just the two of them. They turned out to be pretty good without the boys. 

After the show, Chanel, the bartender, offers Lilith to join her for a drink. Suzanne tells her to go have fun and that she’ll take care of their stuff. Lilith is suddenly very shy with Chanel and Chanel thinks it’s charming. Meanwhile, Jillian sneaks backstage to meet Suzanne. First of all, because she wants to meet the person who's been mentioned so many times by both Adriel and Vincent, but most of all, and she won't admit it,  because that was a hell of a show and Jillian isn't unaffected by Suzanne's charm. Except Suzanne doesn't want anything to do with Adriel's lawyer; she has never gotten along with Adriel. Jillian doesn't like this egotistical sexist megalomaniac guy either but she doesn't have to like her clients, she only loves the paychecks Adriel gives her. Jillian asks Suzanne out that night because she could use the company herself and she thinks Suzanne could use a drink and someone to vent to. 

Hans is a photographer but since it doesn't pay his rent he’s working at Chanel's bar. On shown nights he's the one in charge of photography. One day, Yasmine, a museology student, reaches out to him. She needs to set a whole exhibition to graduate, her project is to mix different forms of art. Of course Hans is in. He mentions his roommate, Beatrice, who's all shy and nerdy and really good at drawing. He suggests they'd mix photos and painting and Yasmine is down with it! Her own roommate, Camila, could animate the photos-paintings so they could also play with audiovisual material. They have artists, they need models now.

They hang up flyers at uni and Michael and Todd, both friends from the book club, think it could be fun to join this project. Michael tells Ava, his best friend, to tag along. She wants to be a costume designer and who knows, they might need one. They do need one and everyone is crazy about the project. 

JC, Chanel's annoying but charming little brother, comes back from his trip to Europe. They use him as a model. He’s a bit of a bad boy but once you get to know him, you realise he truly cares a lot about people. He learns that Michael has been struggling with something at uni (grades? Motivation? Bullying?) and offers to help. JC wishes Michael could get the hint that he's interested in him but Michael's blind.

Beatrice and Ava work a lot together for the costumes. Ava is impressed by Beatrice's knowledge. They do plenty of research about textiles and designs to better match the project. They go shopping together on different occasions and Beatrice starts opening up more.

Hans and Yasmine are obviously getting along very well and when Camila has had enough of third wheeling, she goes to the only other person who doesn’t seem to work in duo: Todd. He makes her laugh and he’s hot, Camila wonders if they could be friends. 

They want to work on a special Valentine's Day project. Chanel is throwing a theme party for Valentine's Day and she lets them have the back room to offer a quick photoshoot to people in the bar. Ava, with the help of her grandmother, asks Shannon to show up with a date to help with their project. Shannon asks Mary to be her fake date because she's the only person she knows that she would want to hang out with, and because her grandmother didn’t leave her much of a choice. Lilith will be there to spend the night with Chanel, although she’d be busy with customers. She asks Suzanne to come for moral support, just in case it goes wrong and because Lilith is very unsure of herself. Suzanne has plans with Jillian but Jillian agrees to come along, she just wants to spend some time with Suzanne and it could be a fun night. There’s a big what the fuck are you doing here moment between mother and son when they bump into each other at the bar that night. 

Vincent asks Suzanne to be his character witness during one of the hearings for the divorce and Suzanne can't say no to her oldest friend. She tells Jillian and Jillian is very uncomfortable because she can’t not go to the hearing and she doesn't want to go all boss bitch on Suzanne and she also doesn't want to risk losing her case to Duretti. Tough choice to make.

[the-firebird69]

tps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucerne

This is where a pilot was buried and he's from Rome and it was actually Biden who is buried and he's not buried there now and a lot of people are ridiculous. It traveled out there because Biden was else did they said and he died and all this and they're huge idiots massive racist and a runaround talking about their cause and plan openly. And we have a Swiss people may have been there for a long time many years and we evacuated and the sun thinks that we went to the stone ships To work and to live and to use RC more or less it's remote viewing. And it really is probably true yes and there's probably no way there you also mentioned it's probably not regular metal that's aiming right at those working above them. And the ships probably don't make it too well if we don't want them to in the ocean because of it. And this guy John Reimallard is an **** he really is a huge **** on top of being a jerk they have no idea what they're doing and our son does and says it's some sort of relative of trespasser and that's below and it is true that's what it looks like and he has them it's one of these monsters in Europe that's prevalent and if you look at the river you'll see that it's true and we have them too. It's because we have to do the mining and we have a presence there and also I did a lot of mining right below them.

We shall return in a moment

We shall return in a moment

Thor Freya

quite a response but true i was entombed there and got out. and now im on the warpath and they say this. so we know, they are no good need out and want to die. i hate these people here they suck so badly and on me mine and any that stand upright. and aid and abet any enemy of ours we shit on them now

biden

we dont strike down the psuedo emmpire mostly and or forg. but these do hand over their share of information. tons of it. take stuff lose it that way too. but are known tobe rebels and cowads at the asame time and biden will use it no hates them. sees it and why. wants them all gone and now has more info on the lot. we do too and additinoal due to our sons treatment and daugter they fling themeseles at her. we pour in now help

Thor Freya

we assume yu have haad enough there ttrump, no , so we hit. globally yours fall and are out shortly and you willd ie for your insolent remarks today and swiftly now. we hunt you and make yo upay and hit you good. and yes your wife hit you in the head and ye for stuff her and cheeseman. and are at it. take you out they say. tons of tehm too after you for stopping her housing idea. and he said it bury me in tthis now no dont think so. and she was upset and ken too this blows we need out. they are upt wil hit the shit and see it dupe clones of trump at him all the time and had a copy of th epic too seek the negatives and are aafter me he said and trump himself. toaunted him todday for it and he said go blow dont have it. and then we did take pics and a lot. and now they seek him fast stuff now.

His losing end he has a big debt to pay here to our son he owes him a lot of money and money for inventions and for his harassment and he owes the money for looking for him and not paying him adequately and for missing relatives and for money that he's holding in the bank accounts of our son he's going to try and take that money out and that's Trump and company and people are according to go after him. We are suing him and we have several lawsuits going in this week and they are pretty pointed and they are going after Trump and company and we are listed on several suing that particular character and so is Biden and Camilla for having survived his harassment they are suing him for open slander along with half of Hollywood and that's the people there of course they are suiting Trump for trying to ruin their industry as well in abuse of power misuse of power and a lot more and he is gonna go down I got a stupid there are a lot of people going after him and in a moment we're going to announce the status of the Eastern Hemisphere

Thor Freya and he left the aprtment for now but established he mightnot have his truck there to be in it here. we do see and hate him for it and appreceiate teh heads up

we hit himnow

Frank jCastle Hardcaste

we go after all his devices needed the boost they saw it all and are in. now we ahve a game here that is for sure we need to survive tht is thename of it and i need troops and now.

duke Nukem blockbuster and the caps did not work we look into it now

Olympus

[agentofscifi]

Success is the Best Kind of Revenge Ch. 3

Heels click onto the floor of my office as Chloe pushes open my doors. My hands were currently holding up the train of a dress hung on Juleka. Alix follows after Chloe, tinkering with some kind of camera in her hand. Over the years, as we all graduated from University and done pretty well for ourselves.  

Juleka ended up changing her major in school after three semesters. Instead of going into performing arts for instruments, she went and got a composition degree. Juleka wrote music for a variety of artists and was one of the most sought-after songwriters. When she wasn’t doing all of that, she was modeling for my company. Juleka did a variety of photoshoots for several companies, mine included throughout her University Years. After I opened up my first few stores, we signed a formal contract. She’d been working for me for almost a decade. She split her time between Paris and Nashville in America. 

Alix decides to focus on a degree in art history. She worked at an Auction House company in Paris, moving between the various countries of Europe to authenticate pieces of art and then handle their sales. She was rather successful at her work, earning many bonuses for rather extremely successful sales. Alix’s unique style and comfortable professionalism made her easily approachable to buyings. She was rather blunt, and it did her well in her job. On her off-hours, Alix did some minor modeling and promoting much of my athletic pieces. Alix’s popularity grew as she competed in several X-Games in and after university. She won several titles in skateboarding, BMX freestyling, rollerskating, and snowboarding before retiring after a slip-up when snowboarding. She shattered her kneecap, broke a leg, her collarbone, and dislocated her arm in two places. She still did BMX biking, skateboarding, rollerblading, and snowboarding, just not in a professional capacity. That being said, little kids still asked for her autographs all the time.  

Chloe graduated from the London Business School with Honors and then proceeded to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York to get a Graduate Degree in Global Fashion Management. She modeled some of my designs, worked connections, handled all my brand’s social media accounts, and finalized contracts. Now, she had several people working underneath her, to handle the day-to-day operations. Either way, Chloe handled all of the Brand’s business dealings and flourishes.  

As for me, I attend the London College of Fashion. I got a Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Design and Development with honors. After those years, I went to Milan to attend Istituto Marangoni International for a Master’s Degree in Luxury Accessories Design & Management. After that, I relocated back to Paris. My first boutique opened up quickly after that along with a small factory with a loan from a bank. I ended up having to open a second factory within three months due to demands. More boutiques opened up worldwide as the Brand became a household name.  

“Hello Chloe, how is everything?”  

“We got invitations to a reunion for Lycée. Alya sent them, as she was the class representative when we all graduated. Personally, I think she wants to get her hands on you or Juleka for an interview. You know her journalism career is in the gutter.”  

Alix snorts. “And who’s fault is that?” 

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Her’s. The idiot ruined her blog when she was a teenager and she never changed. She still does idiotic and frankly dangerous things to get a scoop. Sure, she does some basic research now, but the girl’s been detained several times for endangering people and disrupting the peace. No University would touch her, and no place will hire her.”  

Alix looks up from the camera. “So, you didn’t inform everyone in the fashion journalism world about her history, knowing it would spread to all major news and journalism networks.  

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Look, this company’s image is important. I was not going to let Miss Blogger ruin it for 15 minutes of fame. She dug her own grave.”  

I sigh. “This is great and all, but are you all going?”  

There’s a snort right behind me. “Not on any of our lives. We will not be sinking that low.”  

“Chloe!” Juleka’s face is red and slightly scandalized.  

“What? Why would we go to this reunion? To see how everyone is doing? It’s rather simple. Alya’s a tabloid writer. Nino is a barely successful DJ who works at a music store to help pay his bills. Max is an IT guy at a company. That fake research paper haunts him to this day. Kim works at a gym. The drugs screwed his athletic chances over and he never planned for anything beyond going to the Olympics. Nathaniel works at an art store and does nighttime classes. He’s unsuccessfully worked with 7 different writers for his comics after leaving Marc.   

Now, Myléne and Ivan are happy, at least. Myléne works as a secretary and Ivan as a grocery store manager. Both are part-time so one of them can stay home with their kids at a time. They have millions of photos of their family on their Instagram accounts. Neither one can do much with charities. The fraud they committed was spread around the charity communities fast.  

Rose, Adrien, and Sabrina are the only ones who did what they wanted to do. Rose had a few years of fame with her music before getting married and settling down as a youth music teacher. Adrien moved to America and works for a University. However, I know for a fact that he will not be returning to Paris for anything less than a funeral or a wedding. As for Sabrina, after some therapy, ended up as a Detective in Marseille.”  

“Didn’t you pay for her therapy?” I tie off my last stitch and let the train fall to the platform.  

Chloe purses her lips. “I owed her that much. I screwed her childhood up, majorly.”  

“Did you stalk everyone to find out all of this?” Alix has a mischievous look.  

Another eye roll from Chloe. “I didn’t need to. In this day and age, all you need to do is type their name into the internet and all of their social media pops up.”  

I hum. “What about Lila?”  

“She’s still in prison. Tried another appeal a little while ago, to no avail. Her long list of offenses and the “assisting a terrorist” change isn’t something any judge would want to touch, even with a 10 ft pole.”  

Juleka simply shrugs. “Back to the point at hand. I’m not going to this reunion. Rose is the only one I wanted to keep in contact with, and she’s not going. It’s her five-year anniversary with her husband. She’s going to Spain that week.”  

Alix shugs. “I’m not going either. Kim has tried to contact me so many times to help him get back into the sports world. I am not giving him another chance. Besides, there’s this huge auction going on in Russia for that week. I am not missing that for a few hours with our childhood classmates.”  

I look at Chloe. She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Not a chance and you are not going either. Heavens forbid Alya posts something on that new blog of hers.”  

I set my needle and thread down on a work table and gesture to Juleka to get changed. “I’m not going if none of you are. Besides, there’s this fashion show in Milan that weekend. It’s for freshly graduated designers to show off their talents to possible employers. I was planning to go to find some who would specialize in Fashion Contour. I’ve been doing quite a bit of work in that field and want to get a fresh pair of eyes that will eventually take over that area of our brand. I was also hoping to look for someone to start a Make-up department. One of your people mentioned the idea at a meeting.”  

Chloe nods and starts to type into her phone. “I’ll tell my assistant to look through the applications we have to see if anyone fulfills the requirements for that job. Just find that new department head.”  

I give Chloe a nod as Juleka hands me the dress from before. A custom-made wedding dress for a woman who happened to be Juleka’s exact size. One of the many I had made of the years since I’d started my fashion business.   

Some part of me wanted to thank Lila. If I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t be where I was if she hadn’t arrived at my class and taken everyone’s loyalty. They weren’t bad people, but thanks to Ms. Bustier, they were a drain on my energy and abilities. Now, however, I was one of the most well-known and successful fashion designers with over two dozen people for me in Design. I could not be happier. 

Ch. 1 ~~~~~ Ch. 2

[peekbackstage]

Q&A: Royalties

@jiyamjain-blog: “I would love to know if this anon knows how it works with these digital sales. I heard somewhere that artist actually pockets only 1% of the total sales after everyone takes their cut. It sounds horrible and hope it is not true!!!”

When it comes to the question of how royalties are split, largely the question is who the stakeholders are with the splits and what the artist’s contract looks like.

 The United States and Europe actually has a ton of protections for artists - especially as far as royalties go and limits on what managements can take. The kind of “slave” contracts that many idol companies in Asia are known for (and that the Backstreet Boys were once forced into) are not really a thing in the States. 

However, it’s a different matter in Asia altogether - artists do not have the same rights. Many of them are actually hired as salaried “employees” of the label and treated as such. Their royalties can often be almost nonexistent as a result. 

In general, artists get a percentage (or “points,” as we like to call it) based on a few factors. Bear with me, cuz this is gonna be kinda long. 

ROYALTIES 101

1. Publishing - If the artist actually participated in the composition or production of the track, then they are entitled to publishing points on the track. Unfortunately, with Asia, the points can be quite low for the artist because they often only perform the track - they don’t compose or produce.  

2. Master - Then there’s the question of the rights owner - who owns the actual song. (The master rights.) This is usually the label and the publisher in Asia, as well as anyone who has publishing rights. Anytime anyone wants the right to use the track, they have to pay master rights. 

3. Performance - Performance royalties are more or less the “performance” of the work anywhere in public such as at clubs, restaurants, on live TV (as a cover), radio, etc.  Performance royalties are generally collected by PROs (performance rights organizations). 

4.  Mechanical - The actual physical or digital sale/reproduction of whatever the work is. 

5. Streaming - Think Spotify or Pandora. Notoriously terrible with royalties because of how little they actually pay artists. 

6. Sync - Anytime music is played in a visual medium, this is called music synchronization. There are usually licensing fees that are negotiated for the right to use that music. 

Here’s a good breakdown of royalties if you want to learn more.

I haven’t actually done any business with the Chinese music industry since 2015. I last was there to meet with Sony China and quite a few other major labels and publishers to discuss international licensing of catalogs. One of the big questions back then was how on earth we would handle performance royalties because in 2015, China’s PRO system was a hot mess. I actually have no idea if it’s improved at all, but back then, Chinese artists generally were not getting paid all of their royalties for performance. And they sure as heck were not getting paid properly for sync either.  

Digital sales in China in particular should have a combination of publishing royalties and master royalties paid out to whoever has points on the track. In the United States, artists get paid both mechanical royalties and performance royalties when a digital sale is made.  

Now, here’s the real kicker: Asia is notorious for not giving a shit about artist rights. In fact, many idol factories and labels are known for “slave” contracts that are extremely unfair to the artist. Artists not only don’t really have control over their music, but many of them are actually hired as “employees” and paid a flat salary by the company. 

Idol bands in particular tend to have that type of arrangement. And unless that idol band is with a really progressive label/management company, there is a very high likelihood that the artist actually isn’t getting royalties at all - not only because everyone wants a piece of the action, but also because even after the royalties are paid out, the artist is then also responsible to pay their management the management fee, which is paid out of the artist’s gross sales. 

In the United States and Europe, there are protections for artists that limit management commissions to 10% on average. But there are no such protections anywhere in Asia. Let’s consider the Korean music industry for example: labels such as YG and Big Hit actually do give their artists rather significant royalties - and with YG in particular, artists also have control over their careers. However, labels such as SM and JYP, however, are known for rather unfair contracts, which are also pretty common in Japan and China as well. 

I have no idea what kind of contracts XZ and WYB have with their companies. If they have fair contracts, then it’s safe to assume they are being paid royalties. If they don’t have fair contracts... well... I’m not sure what can really be said.

As an aside, you can pull up the metadata of any song to see who the rights owners are. If the artist isn’t listed on it, then that’s a big red flag. 

So, pretty much, TLDR: yes, it’s possible the artist is only receiving 1%. It’s also possible the artist is receiving much more. It really depends on how the points are split based on way too many factors that no amount of speculation will get right.

[thearkhound]

Interview with Fumihiro Hishikawa on TMNT and other Konami arcade games (from Gamest #46)

Interviewer: Zenji Ishii

How long have you been President of Konami?

It’s been precisely three years. Prior to that, I was a chairman for around three and a half years. So in total, it’s been six and a half years.

Is there any distinguishing characteristic within Konami that sets it apart from other companies?

The fact that the average age of the employees are pretty young could be said to be a benefit. Even with myself included, the average age seems to be around 27. But it’s not just the fact that there are many young people working for Konami. We empower them with bold authority and allow them to create games with absolute freedom. Since we are a company, we create things as an organization, but we hope to make the best use of everyone’s individuality. In other industries, such as steel collecting, engineers are only recognized as legit when they had been employed for at least ten years. However, in game development, especially within Konami, it is possible to have a leading role in the development of a game after only being employed within a year. I think game companies are the most rewarding in the sense that young people can stand in line and show off their talents.

How were things when Konami was first established?

Mr. Kozuki, who is currently our chairman, formed the company and started a game development business by piling up his wisdom and sweat. It’s not a well-known game nowadays, but Scramble was very well-received in the U.S., which served as the impetus to start putting out more arcade games into this world such as Hyper Olympics. Scramble would serve as the basic for the Gradius series.

Which game would you currently consider to be your company’s greatest hit?

That would be Hyper Olympics. It was a huge hit both, domestically and abroad. We produced over 40,000 units for it. Its release coincided with the L.A. Olympics of 1984 and the game ended up being rebranded Track & Field in the United States. The license for the Olympics was already granted to various other companies, so we had to change the title in the U.S.

Other of our successful titles include Time Pilot, Roc’n Rope, Mikie, and Yie Ar Kung-Fu.

But the peak of the arcade market was in 1982. Sales numbers has been gradually declining since then. While we sold 40,000 units of Hyper Olympics,  nowadays just having 10,000 units sold of any game is considered a huge success. We are blessed that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles has currently sold over 20,000 units.

It seems many game companies have entered the industry lately, but very few of them have produced a single hit.

It wasn’t among the games I’ve just mentioned, but Gradius is a masterpiece in my opinion. When you consider it as an evolved version of Scramble, the game that served as the foundation of Konami, it could be considered to be the game most representative of the company. It is the ultimate form of modern shooting games and served as a huge influence on all of Konami’s subsequent titles. While I’m glad that the Gradius have attracted all sorts of players, I do wonder if the content of the games are too tailor-made for hardcore players. A game has to be unconditionally fun as much as possible.

Is there a game that you yourself thought that should’ve been made in a particular matter?

To be frank, when it comes to the specifics of a game, I don’t know anything. However, I always pay attention to the games that do come out and even at trade shows I try to look around while listening to the sales people who understand the games. I won’t go into details, but I always say that we should create games that evoke emotions and empathy. If we make such a game, then we’ll get sales from all over the world. In that respect, we could say that Parodius sought a new direction for our company. It has adopted a comical policy that is slightly different from the classical and mainstream stance of the Gradius series.

I think Parodius, is much closer to the sensation of a console game compared to the Konami arcade games from before. Can you tell us about your approach when it comes to the difference between arcade and console games?

Ideally a console game is something that you play at your pace and becomes more interesting at repeated plays. In comparison, it is indispensable for an arcade game to have a huge impact from the beginning  and it must also be easy to get into. When we entered the home video game market, we were the first to establish ourselves with the technology built at the arcades and since then, our home and arcade games have served as two wheels of the same cart. The core of our games, whether it’s an arcade title or a home title, is the importance of its enjoyment. I believe the fact that Konami has been steadily accumulating on the enjoyment of the software, rather than focusing on developing new hardware that requires capital power, has led to the company’s current prosperity.

While Konami is popular in Japan, lately it has been flourishing abroad as well thanks to the success of TMNT. How are the company’s activities overseas?

We established Konami Inc. in the United States back in 1983, with Konami Ltd. in England and Konami GmbH in West Germany both being established the following year. In Spring of 1988, we formed a development team in Konami Inc. for arcade games.

The games made by Konami Inc., such as The Main Event and Crime Fighters, are pretty unique.

They develop games specifically for the U.S. market. Currently TMNT is a big hit not just in the U.S., but also in Europe. We hope to bring this game to Japan soon, so please look forward to it.

Can you tell us about your company’s plans for future games?

According to Chairman Kozumi, who was the founder of our company, the video games industry used to be very small, but it was a fascinating industry that could fuel individuality. Konami was able to set its foot there and establish itself, but now in a large industry where large companies participate, I think we are forming a large global market.

It is said that humans were formed not just by working, but also by playing. Playing is like the pendulum of a clock in that it swings away only to swing back towards the direction of itself.

In such times I think the future of game developers will be bright. However, I think competition will be fierce because of that, with large companies entering the industry and smaller companies also playing an active role, leading to coexistence of possibilities and fierceness.

In the past, when it came to game development, there were people that had some sort of disappointment about it, but now it’s a global industry and on top of that, it’s an industry that creates new motivations, so I think we should be more proud of it.

I think it is none other than the game industry that has accept Japan’s unique culture in the world, where the country has  85% of the market share. Please continue making leap forwards and conveying the wonders of video games. Thank you very much for your time.

Source: Gamest #46 (June 1990)

[aphspain-pure]

Spanish Gold in Moscow

@hetaliamondaychallenge September 28: “Chaos isn’t meant to be understood”. 

Category: Fanfic. 

Pair: RusSpa (Russia x Spain).

Words: 2.073.

Genre: Historical, Drama, angst, shounen-ai. 

Note(s): During the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) the Sencond Spanish Republic was completely ignored by Europe, while the fascist that had rebealed were helped by some militar forces. Spain was basically used as a test game of the military armament and strategy before the 2WW. The only country that gave real help to the Republic was the USSR. To finance the war, the government spent all the Spanish gold. 

1938

With an absolute ill look in his face, Spain, who still liked to considerate himself as the Second Spanish Republic, moved his gaze to the door that opened a few seconds before.

Nations could perceive other nations in a certain rate, so he wasn’t really surprised when the other entered the room; he had sensed him from far away, knowing he was leading to his position. Weary eyes without the so-called typical Spanish shine looked at the other, a little smile crossing his feverish face.

- Buenos días, Rusia.

Right in front of him, heavy, enormous and clearly powerful, the actual leader of the giant Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Russia, stared back at him with his famous sweet smile. Spain didn’t have known him till a pair of centuries ago, but he knew about this certain characteristic even before personally meeting him. He heard from France, England, Prussia, Austria and even Denmark about this “gentle look monster” that was so big and terrifying in the east.

Anyway, Spain didn’t have really hated this guy even once; he was actually grateful for his performance during the Napoleonic wars, though. If it wouldn’t have been for the Russian forces, France’s troops wouldn’t have retired from his vital territory and he wouldn’t have regained his independence. He sighed, trying to get rid of the thoughts of the past.

He was now, currently, going to lose his independence against his own people, in the middle of the worst civil war he had ever have –and Spain was certainly a country that had endured quite some civil wars-.

A strong ache tortured his mind while he suffered a new wave of deaths. Every time his people died, his body would burn and a painful sensation split him in two. They were dying at that very moment, out there, in the valley of the Ebro, killing each other in a battle that had been going on for months. He nearly cried, but couldn’t afford doing it in front of the power that was standing over there, staring at him with a complicated look in his eyes.

After a few moments, Russia, still smiling even if Spain’s looks were terrible, spoke with a calmed voice. – How are your wounds? –he had asked.

A quick smile was formed in the Spaniard’s mouth, quite ironic.

- Well, my right arm has grown up again, so I can’t complain.

Russia stared at the renewed arm, where a few days ago only a stump could have been appreciated. They, nations, received wounds just like humans but their bodies weren’t actually the same. If they were cut, they would recover; if they lost blood, after resting for a while they’d be up again; if they were burn till ashes, they would start to be reborn just like a Fenix. If they were killed, they wouldn’t die.

Only another nation could kill one.

Even if Spain had lately started to question if a nation could kill itself, just like how he was feeling during these days in which he thought he was actually going to be destroyed by his own people.

Russia’s hand reached him and touched his back. He jumped for a moment, sored. He then relaxed, looking far away and not giving attention to the hands that touched his still bleeding injuries. 

When a certain happening was so bad, so traumatic, that it gave the nations nearly-coma state, the injuries would still remain bleeding some time. Sometimes it lasted days, sometimes centuries. Those were produced by the bombing, the Biltz, in Guernica, and they still bleed after a year.

He trembled, just by remembering it. The hand in his back made him shiver in pain, but it was the most comforting thing he could afford to have those days, so he didn’t say anything.

Then, he gained composure and faced the other.  - What are you doin’ here, anyway? I thought you were going back at your place for some bureaucracy stuff.

Russia remained silent.

That silence made Spain worry.

He didn’t hate Russia at all. He was nice to him, and every time they had met he could only see a true innocence behind the brute and scary dude everyone saw. He liked him quite a bit, and he lately, during his few peaceful years with a Republic, found out that he was such an intelligent and interesting chat partner. Thanks to the leftist ideology of his government the relations with the Soviet Union had been pretty good, so they had become nearly friends at this point.

He even had became the only nation helping him in this suicidal situation.

During civil wars Spain, normally, stayed apart and watched his people decide his fate. He disliked choosing between his beloved people, so que stayed aside.

This time, he couldn’t.

He had seen what happened with Italy after the Great War. The fascism grow up and ate Ita-chan and Romano completely. The brutality that came with it made Spain shiver from his position in the neighbour peninsula. He didn’t recognise his cute Italian brothers with those black shirts and that dark look in their face. Then it expanded to Germany and developed into the National Socialism, which happened to be even worse. A virus was expanding all over Europe and even reached his brother, Portugal.

Spain could have seen it coming. He even spoke with a few general of the army and old requetés, he tried to create a flexible government just to evade the incoming clash. But it was all in vain.

The military coup happened, and while it wasn’t effective, war broke out.

It may be pathetic coming from a country that used to be a world power but, this time, Spain feared his people. That’s why he stayed with the republicans. That’s why he suddenly started dying from the insides.

And while Spain was in that desperate situation, Europe didn’t mind at all and, trying to avoid a Second World War, signed a No Intervention Pact in which 27 countries swore not to intervene in his civil war. That had broken Spain’s heart, who found himself suddenly isolated and left apart, left to die alone. It was even worse when, even if knowing it, the United Kingdom looked away while the Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy broke that pact and helped the rebels. He couldn’t believe England’s coward attitude.

But it was kinda worst when he watched his closest friends actually attack him, help the fascist rebels.

First, the Italian brothers; then, Germany, Austria and Prussia under the name of the Third Reich. Portugal also attacked the Republic by sending his Viriatos and even the American self-proclaimed Hero’s Ford Company sent help to destroy him. All his old friends were against him. He, on the other hand, only received some fusils from Mexico and a few airplanes from a very scared France, who refused to send more help. The only one who lent him it’s power was the Soviet Union, or preferably Russia.

He still remembered when he had met Romano in the site of Toledo. Romano had been excited, he spoke about autarchy, about having a great colonial empire, and about things such as war being the way through the future. His golden eyes sparkled when he had, for the first time in centuries, hugged Spain.

If you join us I promise we’ll bring this to an end.  –he had whispered, while speaking about how great it was being a fascist country.

He had been then, suddenly, pulled apart by a giant body that happened to be his ally, Russia, who looked at Romano with electric violet cruel eyes. Spain could have said something to stop a conflict, but, when he looked at Roma, he couldn’t longer see his cute tomato-like crybaby. In the past Romano would have cried and call him to save him but, then, he held his gaze prideful, strong and dangerous in front of the terrible Russia.

A bombing had made them react and, when he came to himself, he was with the International Brigades heading to Madrid.

Remembering all of that made him feel sick and hided half of his face while looking at the floor with a tired smile.  

He suddenly had an urge to vomit, but he managed to stay calm and recover a moment later. – Sorry, I beg you excuse me. My house is total chaos now, no, wait… EUROPE is a total chaos now, haha…! I don’t understand how or why, but it makes me think things a way too much.

- Chaos isn’t meant to be understood.

That statement made Spain stay quiet and, then, he looked with his nearly dead green eyes at the other.

- I’m going to ask again, Russia. –he said, this time, cautious-. Why are you here?  

- You haven’t paid me to help you lately.

And if he had frozen before, this time Spain had lost all the blood of his veins.

He started sweating. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t.

- Y-yeah, I-I know… It’s just that all the gold that I’ve been keeping in my reserves has been already taken to Moscow, so I-I…

Russia’s voice was sweet but cold as ice. – You’re not going to pay for my services.

The Spaniard’s eyes opened at his full.

- No! Don’t even think ‘bout that! I’ll pay, I swear it! It’s just that, right now, my people are starving, we don’t have armament and the industry it’s all stopped. I can’t now but, when we win, I’ll return what I owe! A-and I’ll even make it double…! I’ll work hard, I swear. But, now, with all my old gold gone, I…

- So you’re not paying.

The calmed voice made Spain feel like if he were to hyperventilate. He felt like crashing. Like glass about to break.

- I’m not. –he confirmed then.

The taller man stood up, and Spain followed him, clearly desperate.

- Y-you can’t leave me, Russia! If I don’t have your help I’m lost! –after hearing those words the Slavic turned around and faced him, with his so-typical smile in his face.

- So you’ll pay me?

The brunette looked away, clearly ashamed. – I have… nothing to pay you with. B-but I promise..!

- Нет. You can pay me. –response that took an ¿hah..? out of Spain. Russia laughed in a calmed way and then, explained. – Even if you don’t have anything you still possess your body, da?

And Spain’s eyes darkened.

Ah, true. Nation prostitution.

It had been a while.

It used to be so common in the past that he didn’t know why he felt so surprised when Russia suggested it. It may have been ‘cause Russia is fairly younger than himself, or ‘cause the times have changed. He had been so accustomed to it even when he was a child that it wasn’t so much of a surprise finding out that some new power wanted to take advantage of his position to appeal to this. Spain could easily remember when he was forced to be Rome’s or the Islamic Empire’s sex-boy, or even Turkey’s or France’s. Well, he had also been like that with some nations; but, well, let he who is without sin cast the first stone, and he was also a sinner after all.  

He looked back at Russia and sighed. – Is this old damaged body worth all the gold I could have had afford to pay you weeks before? –and Russia’s aura became surprisingly pink, just like a happy kid’s.

- And much more! I’m happy so I’ll help you.

And leaned forward to kiss Spain’s forehead. Spain rised an eyebrow, but let him be, anyway. He needed help and Russia was eager to help him only receiving some affectionate touches here and there in return. There were worst things he could have had to do.

Another wave of pain drove him crazy sored and let himself drown in the straw bed he had been using before. He took a deep breath. 

Then, when the fever started to be stable again, spoke directly to Russia.

- Well, then, how about a quickie? I have to go back to the battlefield in 30 minutes and I think I could come back quite worse than now, ha ha. –he had laughed, with his shiny –and now tiny- smile.

Russia smiled back, getting rid of his Soviet general military hat while getting closer to the sun-burned skinned nation. He sat, and grabbed the other’s cheeks with a gloved strong hand. That tranquil smile crossed his happy face.

- Let me tell you this is going to be a payment in instalments.

[the-other-art-blog]

Fanfiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13777126/1/Serendipity

The discovery of something beautiful without even looking for it.

Youngest CEO Laurie Laurence has been going all over the best galleries on the East Coast, only to find the perfect pieces in a modest gallery in South Boston...and something more.

For @peebleoddle

Boston, Massachusetts

“Sir, we’re here,” the chauffeur announced.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Laurie said. He quickly checked his hair on the rear-view mirror and stepped out of the car. He greeted the door attendant politely and went straight to the elevator. His apartment was the penthouse, of course, so it took a while. He checked his messages.

His art consultant was already waiting for him. Laurie had been trying to acquire new pieces for his collection, but everything felt variations of the same. The more contemporary art he saw, the more he hated it. He grew up in his grandfather's house, where it was full of antiquities and traditional art, but that was obsolete now, at least for the Bostonian high society. He didn't want to hang a Rembrandt either, but something in between would be nice

“Taylor!” He called the man waiting in his minimalist living room.

“Laurie,” The other man, not older than him, walked to him, hugged him, and tapped his back twice as men do.

“Please, tell me you find something,” Laurie pleaded.

“Actually, I think I did,” he answered, showing Laurie pictures of the paintings he just visited. Laurie sat next to him on the sofa. He grabbed the photos and studied them. This is it. These are the paintings he had been looking for. They were perfect, just the right combination of tradition and modernity. They were full of movement, color, and… sensuality. Nevertheless, what attracted him the most was the theme. Most of the paintings represented musicians and dancers. Although there were also couples and very intimate scenes, family scenes.

“Where did you find these?”

“A gallery in South Boston. You told me to look everywhere and here it is.”

“This is great.”

“I agree.”

“So how many of these can we buy?”

****************

“He bought them all?! No way.”

“Just finished talking to him. He’s going to send someone to pick them up.”

“I... I can’t believe it. Who was it?”

“His art consultant is the one who closed the deal, but let’s see… Theodore Laurence...” Sam looked at Amy who was thoughtful. “Do you know him?”

“Oh my God, yes. We went to school together. His grandfather owned this huge company...”

“That he now owns,” Sam said as she looked at the computer and Amy went to see the screen too.

“Yep, that’s him.”

      A few years ago...

“   Everyone ready!?” Professor Brown hurried up the students. “Amy!”  

  “Everything looks good,” sixteen-year-old Amy came up to his side holding a thick file. “The costumes fit, the setting is working. We’re ready for the costume rehearsal.”

  “Great. Let’s do it.” With that said, Amy and the professor/director sat in the middle of the seats expecting to be pleasantly surprised. Instead, their faces reflected complete disappointment. To be fair, most of the cast was doing a pretty decent job. The problem lied in the male lead. Damn it, Amy thought.  

      Laurie finished preparing his drink while he waited for his new collection to arrive. He wanted to put one of them in his apartment.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said to the employees bringing the oils.  

“Laurie,” Taylor entered behind them. “There’s someone here who wants to know you, actually she says she already knows you.”

“Hi, Laurie.” Amy entered the apartment. Taylor made a sign and went to follow the employees, leaving the two of them alone. “I'm sorry, I practically ambushed your friend... You probably don’t remember me.”

“Ummm… no. Of course, I do. Amy March, St. Claire High School.”

“That’s right.”

“What brings you here?”

“Well, seeing as you bought all of my paintings. I thought I could thank you in person.”

“You… you painted that… Amelia C.M.”

“That’s me.”

“Wow. I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots before.”

“It’s alright.”

“Come, let me offer you a drink.”

      “I can’t believe it!” Amy rushed backstage. “Ah, Theodore Laurence. Just the man I was looking for. Seriously?” She asked, seeing as he flirted with a junior. The girl left.  

  “I go by Laurie.”

  “Whatever. What the fuck is wrong with you! You haven’t memorized your lines!”

  “Relax, I will get them,” he dismissed her.

  “When? You should know them already? The play is in a week!” he shrugged. “I mean it, Laurie!”  

  “Alright,”

  “This might be a simple thing for you, but to a lot of us, this is important. And you’re the male lead!”

  “Jesus, you’re so uptight,”

  “Why did you audition if you weren’t going to do it right?”

  “I need the credits, okay! I’m a senior!” He admitted, visibly ashamed. “Director Harrison says that if I don't get them, I won't graduate next summer. My grandfather would kill me. I've already been accepted at Harvard.” Amy rolled her eyes. It didn't impress her at all. Everyone knew rich boys like Laurie were always accepted, they just have to show their last names and it was done.

    “So, you’ve done well… this place is fantastic.”

“Thanks. I… actually have to thank  you  for part of it...”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, remember when you helped me with the play. You really made me think a lot about my life choices… It took me a while to realize that you were right. I was a low-life and a...”

      “Man-whore?!” Laurie exclaimed.

  “You heard me,” sophomore Amy stuck to her words.  

  “Wait, does everyone describe me like that?”

  “Uhh… some would be nicer, and there are some girls really upset with you, but overall… that’s the main idea. You’ve built quite the reputation.”

  “Huh,” Laurie said. He expected to be called a flirt, lady’s man, womanizer, but man-whore! That was harsh, even for him.  

  “Look, whatever you do with your free time and your… body, is your business. I mean seducing women, drinking, and wasting money wouldn’t be my first choice, but… it’s your life.”  

  “Uh, excuse me? I might not belong to your class, but some from mine do talk about you.”

  “It’s not the same and you know it. I have dates, real relationships."

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because you have everything! Laurie, you have more money than I could ever think of, you are such a talented pianist. Honestly, if you're doing this for credits, I think it’s a shame the orchestra wasn’t enough. And...and that face. We could have used that for the drawing class,” they both blushed. “My point is you have everything right in front of you, from the moment you were born. The least you could do is take advantage of it. Not everyone is as fortunate as you are.”

  “Please, doesn’t St. Claire cost a lot? Your family is able to pay for that, you can’t be that poor.”

  “I have a scholarship and an aunt. She likes me and she’s willing to pay my tuition.”

  “Shouldn’t your sister, one of them, be in my grade?”

  “Jo. She’s in public school. She likes it better and she hates Aunt March. Meg is already planning her wedding and Beth prefers being homeschooled. We all are where we want to be.”

“Sounds good.   You think I’m a talented pianist?”

  “Please, you know you are. Not the best, but you hold second place firmly.”

  “The first place being...”

  “My sister Beth. She’s a genius.” She said proudly. “I have to go,” she announced after a message arrived on her phone. “Listen, the story is great. I’m sure if you give it a try, you’ll find it charming and the lines shouldn’t be that hard. You still have a week, make the best out of it. Professor Brown won’t give you the credits if he thinks you didn’t work hard enough. He’s already regretting casting you. It’s up to you to change his mind.”

    “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you were right.”

“I know.” There was a silence for a couple of seconds, only them looking at each other. “So, what became of your life after high school.”

“Harvard. International business, internships. Finally, my grandfather trusted me enough to retire and left me the company to run. You?”

“I went to study art in Florence, I came back and started painting. I was able to afford my own gallery a year ago. And you just help me get the milestone of selling all my paintings. So… thank you for that.”

“My pleasure.”

“If I may ask, what made you do this? I mean… I know you're rich but… what made you think you wanted all?”

“I just saw exactly what I’ve been looking for. You have no idea, I send Taylor to look everywhere. I don’t fancy myself as an art expert, but I’m tired of seeing splashes of paint on a canvas. There’s something very special about your paintings. I love music, you remember that. And they just feel warm. This place could use that. And they have soul.”

“Would you like to make my marketing campaign?” she joked, although it wasn’t a bad idea. They shared a laugh.

“So umm… I don’t remember you playing music, you have a lot of it in your pieces.”

“My sister Beth died a few years ago while I was in Europe and I… I think she would like them. It helps me feel like I have her close to me.” She didn’t know why she was being so open to him, but it felt good.

“The best pianist!” He remembered. She smiled and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“You don’t sign as Amy March.”

“This might sound a bit strange, but I'm trying to make a name for myself. My family name is known in Concord and now that Jo is a best seller… I just don’t want everyone to see my painting and say ‘oh that’s Jo March’s sister’. She's in New York but her books are semi-biographical so...”

“I understand. Ever since I step in as CEO, I feel like everyone is comparing me to my grandfather.”

“I love my sister!”

“Yeah so do I, my grandfather I mean.”

“I just don’t want to live under her shadow.”

“Right.” Laurie felt the need to move the conversation. He didn't know what this was, but he liked it. Amy was gorgeous, she definitely aged well. She was already beautiful when they met in high school, but now she carried much maturity and that smile... And if she could create such captivating paintings, then she was more talented than he ever imagined. Back in school, she was always in the art class. He remembered her bossing the props team for the theater class. She had good taste, everything looked good. “I want to put one in the living room. Maybe you can help me decide.”

“Sure.” She followed him. Whatever this was, she definitely didn't want it to end.

[euhande]

⟨ SIMAY BARLAS. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, HANDE DEMIR is actually a descendent of A R E S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-TWO year old PRE-LAW MAJOR from ÜBERLINGEN, GERMANY has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite AMBITIOUS & ABRASIVE. 

BACKGROUND

hande’s mother is a highly accomplished aerospace engineering graduate from one of berlin’s premiere universities, having worked for various defense companies as a missile specialist since graduating with her master’s degree. she may basically be a rocket scientist, but it’s not rocket science to figure out why ares was attracted to her 😉

they began a tumultuous, on-and-off again relationship that would last for 5 years, and it was only when hande was born that ares dropped the bomb on her mother that monsters were going to try and eat their baby, so she better buckle the fuck up and get ready to raise a demigod

that was the essentially the ending of their relationship — ares became an absent father the way most greek gods are, intermittently sending birthday cards every few years but often getting the dates wrong. she can count on one hand the amount of times she’s met him in-person outside of being a baby, while her mother has been a constant (if sometimes suffocating) presence in her life. she wouldn’t say much about hande’s father when prompted by baby hande, just that he was an asshole and didn’t deserve to meet her, which, fair

from the time she entered kindergarten, it was obvious that she was highly intelligent but had, to put it mildly, explosive behavior problems that would routinely disrupt class time. students were constantly picking fights with her for reasons beyond the teachers’ comprehension, often times materializing from thin air or being an extreme overreaction for typical kid teasing and shenanigans.

schools didn’t know what to do with her. they tried claiming she had emotional problems, they tried moving classrooms, moving schools, and nothing worked. it wasn’t until she was eleven that she was found by a satyr and encouraged into joining a demigod camp over the summer, so that she would be able to control what was undoubtedly emerging odikinesis

that same year, her mother found a higher-paying work opportunity and relocated them to a small city near the swiss border called überlingen, which is home to a prominent defense company that manufactures, you guessed it, missiles. it was a shit ton of change coming from both mortal and demigod sides at hande, and she was resentful of her mother for years for hiding such a crucial fact from her... nevertheless, she was grateful she had a chance to start fresh in a new place and was able to explore the demigod side of herself at the demigod camp in athens   

it was pretty obvious she was a child of ares, but she wasn’t claimed until she punched a boy in the teeth for harassing her and knocked out a couple of his teeth. iconic queen.

an elite german boarding school nearby was where she attended mortal school, admitted fully on her merits (the discipline record was conveniently covered up by the mist), but it’s not like she could magically wish away her powers and function as a normal mortal in school. she had a shaky control of her odikinesis up until she was a teenager, and would often provoke other people in her grade, both accidentally and on purpose. she gained a reputation among her school as one of the more... well-known residents, and while she graduated without getting into a fist fight (on school grounds, that is), she also graduated with no friends.

eonia university was the logical place for her to attend college, elite and rigorous enough to satiate her ego while still being a haven for demigods, and she’s currently majoring in pre-law with the intent to go to law school and become a lawyer!

PERSONALITY

she’s an acquired taste for sure

someone’s first impression of hande is typically negative 95% of the time, and she’s not even remotely insulted by that. she knows she’s brash, she knows she’s outspoken, she knows she can be mean, and she’s unapologetic about it because why should she have to adapt her personality to be palatable to people who are probably weaker and stupider than her??? (her thoughts not mine)

i really have to stress she’s not a dick just because she likes to be a dick to people... like she’s not gonna go to up to anyone’s muses and start bullying them in person for NO REASON.... she is an ADULT WOMAN.... but you provoke her, and there will be a reason

she’s extremely passionate about causes she believes in and sees her opinions about everything from food to weather to politics as the complete truth, so what she might see as playful banter when someone holds a different opinion actually comes across as extremely rude and bitchy to the person getting brutally attacked by her unwarranted point of view. but when she’s actually trying to argue with you, you’ll know

she’s kind of unique for a daughter of ares in that she really doesn’t engage in much physical violence since she entered college, preferring instead to start what could be considered “warfare” over the internet and academically with similarly high achieving peers. but she DOES know how to fight, she just would rather die than have another child of ares intervention by the demigod authorities ASDKSKDFSDMF

so ambitious and academically competitive. it’ll cause her to have an aneurysm at age 22 at the rate she’s going. you didn’t hear it from me but she isn’t ABOVE sabotage if someone tries stealing her #1 spot... tonya harding anyone?? hande is definitely someone who would sacrifice you to a monster or shove you into the lake if it meant she looked better in the end... so that’s something she probably needs to work on

BUT with all that being said, if you aren’t being beaten down by her insane argumentative skills, and hande actually takes a genuine liking to you, you’ll find that she’s... a pretty normal person for the most part. she’s pretty witty, fiercely loyal to the few friends she does have, super smart, and generally pretty enjoyable company. very generous with her money (loves paying for her friends’ food) and cares deeply about everything she argues so intensely about. a lot of people never give her enough of a chance to get to know her (and understandably so), but if you did you really wouldn’t find the image of a shallow bitch that’s often projected onto her

there’s this facebook meme that goes “Need to find new haters... my old ones starting to like me 😂” and that’s it that’s her entire life

if you want to know more just read her app!!

MISCELLANEOUS 

fluent in german, greek, english, and turkish (in order of how often she uses them, though greek is arguably used more than german at this point, she’d just rather die than admit it) 

she starts twitter wars and trolls people online in all 4 languages. it’s her primary pastime and she’s been permanently suspended from twitter a whopping 4 times, but every time she just re-spawns and comes back stronger. absolutely notorious for saying out of pocket shit what she thinks about any given european country and the people who live there and getting ganged up on by said people SASDSDASD her favorite people to cyberbully are british people and french people... rip 

captain of the debate team, and part of model un and mock trial. her ruthless captaincy of the debate team has caused multiple freshman interested in joining to flee in tears, but eonia routinely kicks ass in debate in tournaments across greece and europe as a whole, so it’s not all bad. she is unbelievably skilled in debate and honestly pretty friendly to the people who actually manage to stick around on the team

kicked out of the feminist club for being overtly confrontational... if your muse is in the feminist alliance, hmu for plots 

when she started attending athens’ demigod camp, it got in the way of her going to istanbul with her mother every summer to visit family. she's only started routinely going again since attending university, so most of her time is spent between istanbul and athens and hasn’t been back to germany in a hot second

i just feel like she has the type of energy to own a chihuahua and carry it around in her purse. no allowed pets at eonia but STILL.... that’s the vibe lads

her sexuality is ambiguous and she likes to keep it that way because it’s no one’s business but any and all romantic plots are open to all genders :~)

aside from her odikinesis, she’s able to put minor curses on weapons and will usually do so to make somebody else look like a fool during training

[artificialqueens]

You Know You Love Me, Chapter 2 (Branjie) - Kiki

A/N: Wow I can’t believe I’m updating this in less than a week since I posted the first chapter, there’s a first time for everything lol. Thank you so much for the feedback on chapter 1, I really appreciate every like and comment so much. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes returns to New York City after being shipped off to boarding school and her ex best friend, Vanessa Mateo, isn’t too happy about it… which would be bad enough, but add in the fact that they’re lowkey in love with each other. (Gossip Girl AU)

Rise and shine, Upper East Siders! It’s officially Fall, which means that all of us get to go back to school for yet another scandalous year. Will today be the day we see Brooke Lynn Hytes return to being the socialite she once was, or will she be shipped off yet again? Only time, and the tips you send in, will tell. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

Vanessa’s alarm clock – also known as Dorota – woke her at precisely seven o’clock. She removed her pink silk eye mask and immediately went to hop into the already prepared bubble bath, allowing her body to fully submerge into the bathtub as she mentally prepared herself for the day ahead. The first day of her senior year.

After she stepped out of the bath and slipped into her fluffy robe, she headed to the bathroom to start her morning skincare routine. Some people may say it’s time consuming, but not Vanessa. Her mother has drilled the importance of youthful looking skin into her brain from a very young age. Vanessa didn’t know any other seventeen-year olds who used two different anti-aging serums on a daily basis but she had promised herself that she was not going to get surprised with any wrinkles or frown lines…not before she could make her first Botox appointment.

She returned to her bedroom to find her school “uniform” laid out on the bed in front of her. Once she had her short black skirt, black stockings, white blouse and school blazer on, she slid her black heels onto her feet and walked over to her vanity where she stored her accessories. This is where she added the finishing touches to her outfits. On this particular day, she chose one of her signature headbands (a red one) and placed it delicately onto her hair that was curled to perfection.

After she finished applying some makeup, along with her signature red lipstick, she headed downstairs to the dining table where her family’s chef had prepared a variety of different breakfast options for Vanessa and her mother to choose from – a selection of pastries, fresh fruit and yoghurt. She picked up a chocolate and hazelnut croissant from the tray and paired it with a selection of different berries while Dorota poured her some green tea.

Alexis Mateo – Vanessa’s mother – entered the room hurriedly and frowned as soon as she saw what was on Vanessa’s plate.

“You’re eating carbs this early in the morning, darling, that’s…brave.” Mrs Mateo said as she fixed her hair in the mirror, not paying attention to her daughter who rolled her eyes at her mother’s comment and took a big bite out of the croissant as if she had a point to prove.

“I just hope you know that your metabolism won’t stay like this forever. One day all of these treats you allow yourself to have are gonna come back and haunt you,” This comment earned another eyeroll from Vanessa as she took a deep breath in and tried as hard as she could to force her frown into a smile. “Oh, also, I won’t be coming home tonight. There’s been some kind of disaster in the Paris office that everyone else is apparently unqualified to handle which means I have to go and solve every single problem, yet again.” She said with an exasperated sigh.

“But you just got back from Europe, you said we could go to dinner tonight to celebrate my last ever first day of school!” Vanessa replied with a pout on her face.

“Well Vanessa, that’s the joy of owning your own company. You can’t just expect me to stop working every time you want to go out for dinner. Sometimes work is a more important priority than a meal we can have at any time…isn’t Brooke Lynn back from boarding school? Take my card and bring her instead, you can celebrate together.”

Vanessa immediately rolled her eyes again at the mention of Brooke’s name. She really wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t nervous but deep down she had a few butterflies floating around in her stomach that she really wanted to murder.

Her mother left shortly after breakfast, muttered a quick goodbye to Vanessa and ate only a handful of grapes before she screamed at some staff members to come and carry her bags down to the car.

Vanessa continued to sit at the dining table for a bit longer and tried her best to hide the fact that she was upset with her mother for leaving her alone yet again. Sure, she had Dorota, but ever since her father moved to France about nine months ago, she had been feeling overwhelmingly lonely. Not to mention, her mother had started to work longer hours to keep herself occupied when she was finalising the divorce from Vanessa’s father.

The pout on her face slowly started to disappear as Vanessa focused on the positives of the day she was about to have: she was going to walk into school with Akeria and Silky by her side, ready to retake her throne as the most powerful girl in school and there was nothing Brooke Lynn Hytes could do to take that away from her.

Feeling a lot more empowered, she hopped up off of her chair and grabbed her purse and strutted towards the elevator. She found her family’s black limo with the driver ready and waiting to take her to school and as she stepped inside, the familiar smell of leather and the pine air freshener that was dangling from the mirror made her feel at ease.

—

The first half of Vanessa’s school day had been pretty uneventful so far. She had met up with her girls before school, yelled a sophomore for wearing last season’s shoes and gotten an A on her summer English literature assignment. She also hadn’t run into Brooke yet, which in her mind made it an all the more successful day.

At lunchtime, Vanessa, Silky and Akeria were sat at their regular lunch spot – the steps of the MET. Plastique Tiara, a freshman girl from Brooklyn had been helping Vanessa out by making the invitations for the party ever since Vanessa had noticed how good her calligraphy was and had bribed her with an invite to the party in return for her work.

Plastique nervously handed over the stack of envelopes and Vanessa took them, ready to thoroughly inspect them before she gave her the seal of approval.

“Oh my God, Plastique, they’re so cute!” Akeria exclaimed as she took her invite from the pile and smiled widely at Plastique.

Vanessa and Silky nodded their heads in agreement and Vanessa picked up the invite from the bottom of the pile and handed it back to Plastique.

“Your invitation, as promised!” Vanessa fought the urge to roll her eyes at how excited the younger girl had gotten just from the invitation. Her face changed entirely as she saw a tall blonde figure casually approaching them with a frozen yoghurt in her hands.

“Hey, here you guys are! I looked all over the dining hall for you.”

Vanessa had pictured her reunion with Brooke many times. But this? The blonde just walking up like absolutely no time had passed? Definitely not what she had in mind.

The other girls were all noticeably shocked too. Others, such as Plastique, looked starstruck. Vanessa, however, looked absolutely fuming.

“Hi, I’m Brooke Lynn.” She stretched her hand out to shake Plastique’s hand, which the younger girl accepted immediately.

“I know. I mean, uh, I’ve seen you around and—” she stopped rambling as Brooke bended down to pick up one of the invitations that were sitting in Vanessa’s lap. Vanessa found herself trying to suppress an eyeroll for the second time in the last five minutes, and only half succeeded this time.

“So, when’s the party?” Brooke looked directly at Vanessa when she spoke, as if there were no one else there. Silky, Akeria and Plastique were looking at Vanessa with anxious faces, waiting for her to answer, whereas Vanessa had turned on her signature bitch face and threw on one of her passive aggressive smiles for good measure.

“Saturday…and…you’re kinda not invited, since until twelve hours ago everyone thought you were at boarding school and now we’re full, and Plastique used up all the invites.” Brooke raised her eyebrows slightly and Vanessa shrugged her shoulders with not a single care given.

“Um, actually—” Plastique started to speak, Vanessa knowing full well that it would be easy to get Brooke an invite if she wanted to. But Vanessa managed to get her to shut up with just a single raise of her eyebrow, the look instilling fear in the younger girl and making her stay silent.

“You can go now.” She said to Plastique who slowly started to pack up her things, still not wanting to miss the battle that was undoubtedly about to happen. However, all that happened was a classic B and V stare-down accompanied by a deafening silence.

Vanessa was looking at Brooke Lynn with her protective shield – her bitch face – up, but underneath the surface she was trying her hardest not to break. She should’ve known that seeing the girl she’s been in love with for more than a year for the first time in a long time would’ve had some kind of emotional impact on her. Everything had an emotional impact on her. She cries at every romantic movie eve made and feels so much love for all of the important people in her life. Why did she think that this would be any different? Why did she allow herself to believe that she hated Brooke, when in reality, all she had to do was say three simple words to her and Vanessa would do anything she asked. But she couldn’t let that show to anyone…especially not Brooke Lynn.

“Sorry…” Vanessa apologised half-heartedly, trying to sound at least somewhat sincere.

“No, it’s okay…I got a lot of stuff to do anyway.”

Vanessa started to pack her lunch up which meant that all the other girls immediately started to copy her and pack their lunch up too.

“Well…we should get going then. Unless you want us to wait for you?” Vanessa stood up and predictably, the girls copied. “Looks like you got a lot of yoghurt left.”

Brooke was not an idiot, she could tell that Vanessa had no intention of waiting around for her, especially since she was already standing up and slowly moving away from her.

“No, go ahead.” Vanessa responded by just rolling her eyes and walking away, Silky and Akeria on either side of her but still slightly behind. That was when Brooke Lynn decided to make a daring move.

“Vanessa? Think we can meet up tonight?” she asked innocently, causing the three girls to quickly turn back around. Brooke would pay someone to photograph Vanessa’s face at that exact moment – shocked, confused and feeling out of control. She crossed her fingers that someone had their cell phone out and she could relive it later on Gossip Girl.

“I’d love to…but I’m doing something with Nate tonight.”

It technically wasn’t a lie. Nate was a cute boy that had been trying to date Vanessa for a while now and while she had turned him down repeatedly, he had kept coming back and asking over and over again. He hadn’t exactly asked her out on that specific day but she was sure she could just bat her eyes at him a couple times after school and he’d ask her out immediately…and she would actually say yes this time.

“The Palace. Eight o’clock. Nate will wait.”

Vanessa stood there stunned. How dare Brooke Lynn just waltz back into their friend group and try to call all the shots like she was in charge? Vanessa would be feisty and snap back if she could remember how to function.

“I could probably do a half hour…” Vanessa responded quietly, readjusting her headband as if it were a crown on her head.

“Thanks for making the time.” Brooke Lynn said sarcastically, clearly letting Vanessa know she was enjoying the control she had over the other girl.

“You’re my best friend.” Vanessa replied with the fakest smile she could possibly create in that moment. Not saying anything else, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and strutted ahead of Silky and Akeria, storming off to their next class.

—

Spotted on the steps of the MET: a power-struggle between B and V. Did B really think she could waltz home and things would be just like they were? Did V think B would go down without a fight? Or can these two hotties work it out? There’s nothing Gossip Girl likes more than a good catfight, and this could be a classic.

—

2 years ago:

The two girls were sat on the large grey couch in the Hytes’ penthouse trying to study for their Latin exam the next day. Brooke was sitting on the couch looking at her phone without a care in the world whereas Vanessa was sitting on the floor, hunched over the coffee table with her head in her hands, mumbling to herself.

She had all of her study materials spread across the table in front of her. This included four binders, colour coded of course, three decks of flashcards and two textbooks. Not to mention the abundance of pastel highlighters that seemed to have made their way onto every bit of paper that Vanessa owned.

When Vanessa had suggested they should study together, Brooke Lynn didn’t actually think she was serious. So when Vanessa showed up with Dorota following behind her, carrying her massive bag of supplies, she was a bit disappointed. She thought they would at least get to talk or cuddle on the couch together but clearly, Vanessa had other plans.

“Why do we have to study Latin anyway? It’s a dead language for a reason.” Vanessa grumbled as she leaned her head on the table as if it were a pillow.

“Because you decided it would look good on college applications and signed us both up for it, that’s why.” Brooke reminded her which earned her an eyeroll in response. Brooke patted the empty space beside her on the couch, signalling for Vanessa to join her. Vanessa ignored her by opening one of the textbooks in front of her and reached for one of her pink highlighters.

“Hey, no—” Brooke grabbed the highlighter out of her hand and closed the textbook. Before Vanessa even had a chance to complain, Brooke used all her strength to grab the smaller girl and pull her onto the couch beside her. She took the blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and placed it gently in Vanessa’s lap.

“I think it’s time for you to stop studying now…we all know you could get an A on this test without even trying.”

“That makes one of us…” Vanessa replied playfully with a small smile on her face. Brooke replied by shoving her in the side which got a laugh out of Vanessa. Brooke smiled as that was all she wanted to do in that moment – make Vanessa forget about all of the things that caused stress in her life and focus on making her happy.

Vanessa rested her head on Brooke’s shoulder which somehow lead to Brooke wrapping her arm around Vanessa’s body and locking their hands together. Vanessa released a deep breath that she didn’t realise she was holding in and relaxed into Brooke’s touch, slowly closing her eyes and allowing herself to feel completely at ease.

This wasn’t something that should worry her and make her overthink. Friends cuddle all the time, right? A small frown came on her face as she tried to picture herself cuddling with Silky or Akeria like this. She wouldn’t enjoy it as much. Now, after that realisation, she had a reason to worry.

“I can feel you overthinking from here.”

“I’m not…” Vanessa lied with ease. If she could try and make Brooke believe it, then maybe she could make herself believe it.

“If you really wanna study some more I won’t stop you again, I just figured you probably knew it all by now…” Brooke said quietly, afraid that she had upset Vanessa and caused her to stress more.

“No, you were right, I am gonna ace this test. Now I just wanna spend time with you,” Vanessa replied softly. Brooke smiled and couldn’t stop the feeling of butterflies in her stomach from overtaking her. The fact that Vanessa could control her emotions with such a simple sentence like that was worrying. “Plus, you are really comfy, I have to admit.”

“I’ll be your pillow anytime you want, V.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t like when you’re stressed or sad…if I can help stop that, then I will.”

Vanessa smiled and sat up slowly to look at Brooke Lynn properly. All she wanted to do was lean in and kiss her. Sure, they had kissed before but it had never really meant anything. It was always a drunken thing or part of a truth or dare game at one of Vanessa’s famous sleepovers. But the thought of kissing Brooke properly was consuming Vanessa’s mind more than any exam stress ever could.

Thankfully, Brooke was thinking about doing the exact same thing. Her eyes broke contact with Vanessa’s to look at her lips before returning to her eyes. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own in that moment as they cupped Vanessa’s face, her thumb stroking her cheek gently.

“Can I?” Brooke whispered extremely quietly, so quietly that Vanessa wouldn’t have heard her if Brooke wasn’t already so close to her face. Vanessa nodded slowly, not able to get any words out as excitement and nerves took over her body.

Brooke Lynn closed the tiny gap between the two of them and pressed her lips to Vanessa’s. Just a small peck to test it out. But Vanessa decided that she wanted more and leaned back in immediately and before either of them knew it, they were having a full-blown make out session on Brooke’s family’s couch.

Unfortunately, they were interrupted by Brooke Lynn’s mom returning home not long after. They went to Brooke’s bedroom to get some sleep – but not before Vanessa stole a couple of more kisses. They didn’t do anything other than make out that night but needless to say, they didn’t get as much sleep as they should have the night before a big test.

Unsurprisingly, Vanessa still got an A.

—

Now:

Vanessa looked at the rose gold watch on her wrist for what felt like the millionth time. It was almost eight thirty, half an hour after the time Brooke had said to meet up at. She felt like an idiot. Meeting up to talk had been Brooke’s idea in the first place and of course Vanessa jumped at the chance of spending some alone time with her, but Brooke hadn’t even bothered to show up. Not even a text to let Vanessa know that she was going to be late.

Needless to say, Vanessa was pissed.

Every single time that Brooke had ever done something wrong in their ten years of friendship was playing in Vanessa’s head like a movie clip on repeat. Like that time when Brooke’s parents had gotten her the diamond earrings that Vanessa wanted for Christmas and didn’t even offer to share them. Or when Brooke had let Vanessa’s arch enemy, Scarlet Envy, play with her new Barbie doll before she had even shown it to Vanessa when they were eight.

Vanessa’s hand was clutching her martini glass so hard that if she tried just a tiny bit harder, she could probably break it. Thankfully at that exact moment, Brooke Lynn strolled into the bar, her long blonde hair braided to the side in a messy fishtail braid. She sat down beside Vanessa who was giving her quite possibly the angriest look that Brooke Lynn had ever seen in her life.

“Hey…sorry I’m late…” Brooke said cautiously. Vanessa’s only form of reply was her narrowing her eyes even more. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay to you?”

“You look great, but, um…maybe a bit angry?” Brooke tried to lighten the mood a bit by complimenting her, which would usually work perfectly, but not this time. “Are you angry at me?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking question you’ve ever asked me.”

“What did I do? I’m sorry I’m late, I just haven’t unpacked yet and I couldn’t find the right outfit and –” Vanessa could feel herself about to burst with anger and didn’t let Brooke finish her sentence.

“Not about that, you idiot! You left me…you didn’t even say goodbye, you just fucking left. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was when people would ask me where you went and I had no idea? It was humiliating.” Vanessa replied, her voice broke slightly as she got emotional but hoped that Brooke didn’t notice.

“V, I’m sorry but it was all so last minute and…” Brooke replied, her voice quiet and full of so much shame that she couldn’t complete her sentence.

“Did you even think about telling me or were you just too excited to leave and go make new friends? Am I really so low on your list of priorities that you couldn’t even send me a text? Not even a “Hey V, I’m leaving, see you next year”? I had to find out from your mom, B. That’s not okay.”

“Vanessa, you have to believe me, it wasn’t my fault!” Brooke tried to reason with her but Vanessa was having none of it.

“Nothing is ever your fault, B, that’s the problem! You just do whatever you want and don’t think of the consequences or the fact that what you’re doing actually hurts other people sometimes.” Vanessa’s voice started to get louder and full of anger as she spoke, a year’s worth of repressed emotions finally coming to the surface.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” Brooke fought back with equal amounts of anger, not one to sit back and take being yelled at.

“Doing what? Telling you the truth? I know you haven’t been here for a year and I’m sure that you’ve had everyone kissing your ass since you got back but that’s not gonna happen with me. You don’t get to leave me and then just walk back into my life like nothing happened.”

“Don’t act like your innocent, V. You could’ve called. My mom gave you the number for my school when she told you where I was and you didn’t call once.” Brooke Lynn tried as hard as she could to keep any hurt from her voice, wanting to only show anger.

“You left me. Are you not getting that? You left. I was here. Waiting for you,” Vanessa’s anger seemed to leave her body all at once and the only thing she could feel was pain. It was like she just found out that Brooke had left all over again. The feeling of rejection and of not feeling good enough crept back into her body, not caring how hard she had fought over the past year to get rid of it. “You clearly didn’t feel the same way that I did back then. I really thought you did but you didn’t…and you still don’t.”

Vanessa grabbed her purse and practically sprinted past Brooke and out of the door of the hotel bar as fast as she could, leaving Brooke frozen to her chair.

She felt awful. She didn’t realise that Vanessa had been so affected by her leaving. She also didn’t think that Vanessa had felt the same way about her as she did about Vanessa. Just yesterday, the idea of Vanessa having even the tiniest amount of feelings for Brooke would’ve made her burst with excitement, but now all she felt was guilt.

She grabbed the rest of Vanessa’s drink and downed it quickly as she tried to think about how she could fix everything and make it all okay. She ordered another two drinks after she came to the conclusion that she probably couldn’t. 

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Twenty Two

Aerith Gainsborough has a gift. And that gift is talking people into doing something that they don’t want to do and making it feel like it was their idea in the first place. That’s the only reason Geralt can find for the fact that he’s sitting in a coffee shop on a Friday night, listening to slam poetry and geeks on guitars. 

There isn’t even beer here. No spiked ciders or even Irish coffee. It’s a fucking travesty, and every time he builds himself up to say something about it, Geralt looks down at the tiny woman with a grip on his arm, and he swallows it. 

Damn those eyes. 

I can hear the cannons calling, as though across a dream- 

Geralt pulls his sour gaze away from the top of Aerith’s head when he hears the first strains of the song. This wasn’t some hipster strumming along with a woeful little play at a folk song. There was something haunting in that voice that was drawing Geralt in. 

The sight that greets him isn’t so bad either. 

The man perched on the edge of the stool, a guitar propped on his knee was gorgeous. The line of his stong neck was curved as he looked down at clever, graceful fingers plucking at the strings. Brown hair brushed against his forehead, and when the singer looks up, Geralt feels a jolt in his gut. 

Like the singer is looking right at him. 

Distantly, he hears Aerith tell him that Cloud was there, a pat to his arm before she disappeared into the eclectic crowd. And any other night, this would have been the moment that Geralt left his seat and got the hell out of here. 

But he’s pinned to the spot now, trapped beneath the stare of incredibly blue eyes and a voice that curled against the base of Geralt’s spine and laid down roots. 

The song is sad, too weighty to just be called melancholy. It casts a spell over the room, most of the idle chatter and clinking of flatware and dishes falling away to the sound of it. And when it ends on a low, aching note, Geralt is pulled from the spell of it by the eruption of applause around the room. 

The singer smiles, and it changes his whole face. Gone was the melancholy boy singing about lost loves. Unfortunately for Geralt, what was in his place was a disgustingly good looking man. Why did people have to be both talented, and good looking? It was unnatural. 

Geralt watches him step down from the stage, cradling his guitar in his hands like it was something special, until he could slide it back into the soft case he had for it, propped up against the back wall of the coffee shop, far enough away from the lights of the makeshift stage that he wasn’t drawing attention away from the next person on the stage. (Geralt isn’t sure if it’s a man or a woman who’s taken up the stage now. He’d have to be able to look away from the singer to do that.)

Any thought Geralt might have stifled about going up and saying something to the singer is lost when people start to crowd around him. “Jaskier!” That’s Magnus, who owns the place, who swans up to the singer, this Jaskier and embraces him warmly, kissing both of his cheeks. “One of these days darling, I’m going to get you to play a happy song.”

Jaskier smiles, nose crinkling. “Oh, you know me Mags. Art is pain, et cetera, et cetera.” Jaskier waves the words away as Magnus turns back to answer a question from someone else. There was still a gaggle of people around Jaskier, and Geralt turns his glare down towards the Earl Grey in a steaming mug in his hands. 

Stupid. What would he even do with a pretty little thing like that? (The back of his mind has a few vivid, sweat soaked suggestions. Geralt ignores those.) Nothing. It’s not like they’d have anything in common. It would be pointless to talk to him in the first place, and it would only end badly if he did. 

Geralt downs the rest of his tea in three long scalding gulps and puts the mug down on the table. There was no reason for him to stay now, Aerith just liked the company on her walk over, and Geralt liked glaring at idiots who thought they might want to talk to her. She had her blonde boy there now, and Aerith would decide if she wanted him to walk her home. Which meant it was time for Geralt to go. 

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and...brood.” The words startle Geralt from his thoughts, and he looks up to find himself face to face with those stained glass blue eyes. Damn, Jaskier was quiet on his feet. (Or Geralt wasn’t paying enough attention to his surroundings.)

“I’m here because a friend doesn’t like to walk at night alone.” He’s here, right now, because he couldn’t stop looking at the man in front of him. Now Geralt just has to convince them both that it’s a load of horse shit. 

“Good. Right. Yes.” Jaskier takes a seat from the row in front of Geralt’s and straddles it, because Geralt’s life isn’t hard enough right now. (And his life isn’t the only thing that’s hard, either.) “Well. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance. Except you.” 

It shouldn’t be charming, the bastard going from group to group around the room to collect his praise for a song well done. And yet, here they are. 

“Come on.” It’s wheedling, Jaskier leaning the chair forward so that only two legs are still on the ground, his chin resting on his crossed arms. “You don’t want to keep a man with...bread in his pants waiting, now do you?”

Geralt knows better than to engage. He knows. And still the words leave his stupid mouth. “If that’s a metaphor, I don’t understand it.” 

Jaskier grins. “Oh no, I never joke about bread in my pants. Watch.” Geralt watches, because what the fuck else is a man supposed to do when he sees a twink wiggling on a chair to pull a flattened piece of pain au chocolat out of his pocket, still wrapped in the plastic wrap that Bilbo used for his treats. He waves the bread around and takes a hearty bite before he speaks again. “You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

‘I want you’ are the first three words that come to mind. And as much as Geralt is starting to get the impression that it’s mutual, he’s not putting himself down that road. Fucking some out of towner was one thing, or the girls in the red light district. It was a means to an end, a way to scratch an itch. 

Fucking a local meant seeing them again. It meant feelings getting involved and everything getting messy. Geralt didn’t need anyone, and the last thing he wanted was someone needing him. “It’s not right.” There. Three words, and as polite a ‘fuck off’ as Geralt can manage. 

But the words don’t make Jaskier turn away. If anything, he leans in closer. Geralt subtly places the toe of his boot against the crossbar of Jaskier’s chair to keep it from dumping over forwards. Backwards, he couldn’t help with. “Ooh. Fun. Let me guess. Not a fan of love songs? Flowers? Go on, tell me.”

Bossy. Another thing that shouldn’t be charming but it was. Geralt watches him for a long beat, but the withering stare that seemed to drive people off in droves wasn’t doing a damn thing right about now. “It’s still a lie. Even if no one hears it, you’re still lying to yourself.” Geralt would know. He’s lied to himself more than he’s ever lied to anyone else. 

Jaskier, for some bizarre reason, lights up at the words. “Oh, a pedantic. This is so much better than my guess of repressed heterosexual.” Geralt scoffs, but he’s fighting a smile as he does it. Damn it all to hell. 

“I’m not repressed.” He’s not heterosexual, either. There were too many good looking people in this world to fuck to leave it just to one side or the other. His mother taught him to clean his plate when he was a boy. Geralt took that missive through all aspects of his life.

“You’re not? Well that’s good to know. You’re also very rumbly.” Jaskier gives him a thumbs up before he tears the smashed remains of his croissant in half and offers it out to Geralt. “If I lure you in with sweets, will you tell me your name?”

Geralt makes a low hum of a sound in his chest, to pretend like he was thinking about it. He plucks the piece of chocolate croissant from the cling wrap and pops it into his mouth. “No.” 

“No?” That earns him a bright huff of laughter from Jaskier. “You sir, are a scoundrel and a cad. If I have to lower myself to your nefarious levels to find out your name, then so be it.” Jaskier leans back in his chair and calls across the room. “Oy! Magnus!” There’s a moment before Magnus turns away from a customer, brow raised. “You know his name?”

The entire fucking room is staring at them now. Geralt has never been the kind of man to shrink away, but he’s not a big fan of attention. There are too many eyes on him right now, including Magnus Bane’s bright eyes. God help him if Magnus mentions they’ve fucked. 

But surprisingly, Magnus doesn’t call back across the room. He just sends Bilbo’s little brunette assistant over, who grins at the both of them and hands Jaskier a napkin. Jaskier snaps it open, the way you would a newspaper, and hums. “Well well well. It seems you’ve been outmanuevered, my dear….Geralt.”

It’s been awhile since he’s heard his name pronounced correctly. The Mediterranien influence was strong here. They were far from his part of Europe. But he should have known a man named Jaskier would at least be within spitting distance of the parts of the world that Geralt grew up in. 

“Oh no.” Geralt’s delivery is flat, as is his expression. “I’ve been found out.”

And he’s never going to admit how much he enjoys the peal of laughter it gets him. Damn it all to hell. “It’s true.” Jaskier nods along solemnly, and Geralt can feel the weight of the chair against his toe. Jaskier would be flat on his face if Geralt wasn’t holding the chair in place. “I’m a master spy. James Bond often calls me for tips. But don’t blame me for his blasphemous taste in martinis. That’s all Jim.”

Jim. Geralt rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t do a fucking thing to deter the pretty little singer staring him down with those blue eyes. 

Geralt was in trouble. 

“I also taught him how to pick up beautiful, dangerous people.” Geralt wouldn’t consider himself dangerous, but the size of his arms tended to put that idea into people’s heads. 

Geralt cocks a brow at him. “When are you going to show me that?”

Jaskier holds a hand to his chest, leaning far back in the other direction. Geralt has to shift his foot quickly behind the cross bar to the chair to keep it from going over backwards. “Oh ho ho, the pretty boy has a sharp tongue! You wound me, sir.”

Fuck it. 

Geralt uses his foot on the chair to tip Jaskier back towards him, and he’s rewarded with a yelp. He catches the back of the chair with his hand, knuckles brushing against Jaskier’s forearm as he does. Leaning in himself, the next few words are only for the beautiful disaster in front of him. 

“I can show you what else this tongue can do.”

[nicholasmeyler]

Battle of The Majors: Engineering vs. Philosophy

I just read a really interesting article by a clever writer named Kristina Grob, a Philosophy instructor at University of South Carolina Sumter. The article discussed the long-term benefits of a Philosophy degree in terms of paying ones’ bills and earning a living, as opposed to other majors like Engineering, which is obviously more geared towards practical applications and material success.

https://www.americamagazine.org/politics-society/2020/08/06/want-good-job-major-philosophy?fbclid=IwAR3mE_MT25ZboA7pdoquawknRH9AvhykYrLSTUW1ZLzUv2Vdobs38NXot-k

I read the article with particular interest because I majored in both fields, at separate schools, to obtain two Bachelor’s degrees. The first was in Philosophy at Princeton, and the second in Chemical Engineering at Cal State Northridge. Even though my family had been engineers for four generations before me, I was the rebellious one who wanted to have a broader mind and wanted to set out on a new path.

My father and grandfather both had Mechanical Engineering degrees from Cornell, and my grandfather was even a Cornell Instructor. My paternal great-grandfather was a Military Engineer from West Point (top in his class, except for the fellow-student he tutored). His name was James J. Meyler and he won perhaps the most important public debate of the early twentieth century vs. Leland Stanford, known as “The Free Harbor Contest”, and was responsible for picking the location and beginning the dredging and construction for the Los Angeles Harbor, which was the largest harbor ever built for many years. There was a street named after him in San Pedro, near the harbor. He also had Army ships named after him, and his portrait stood in the L.A. Army Headquarters for 50+ years.

Even his father, my great-great grandfather (also named Nickolas Meyler, like myself), who was an un-degreed Irish immigrant of the potato-famine, was a master carpenter who successfully filed his own patent for a roof-forming machine –- technology which I have been told by Construction professionals is still used on multi-million dollar mansions in Malibu today.

So, why would I study Philosophy instead?

I didn't want to conform to my family's expectations. And, probably because I badly wanted an education in the Humanities. In fact, I took 13 classes in Philosophy at Princeton (more than any other undergrad I knew) and another 6 in Comparative Literature. Philosophy was the highest-ranked department in the World at the time, so it appealed to me because of the challenge. The thought of earning a living never even occurred to me at the time, I was so impassioned to learn the truths of the Universe.

Towards the end of Senior year, I had some conversations with people about “the real world”. One friend who was a fellow Philosophy major in many of my classes was the grand-daughter of two Nobel winners on her mother’s side, while her father was President of Harvard. Even she, with a mother who was a Philosophy professor (and later a best-selling author), made remarks like “We Philosophy majors are the most worthless people out there.”

After I graduated, I began to realize that it might actually be hard to get a job when Philosophy hadn’t really exactly prepared me for one. I had heard of Philosophers in Europe putting up a shingle and charging $100 an hour for providing advice on Life, etc., but I didn’t think I could make that model work for me. I ended up taking the next year off and read 160 books. My parents were incredibly generous with me, very tolerant and understanding. They realized that I had been through an ‘existential crisis’, trying to find some sense of self-worth and meaning in Life. I also had a peculiar psychosomatic ailment which was attacks of hiccups that went on and on intermittently, for many months.

Finally, my parents insisted that I get a job. Since I was contemplating a possible career in Law, it seemed appropriate that I should take advantage of my family’s personal lawyer being the Executor for the J. Paul Getty Museum Estate. I got a job in the mail-room at a company called Musick, Peeler, and Garrett which entailed mailing enormous checks and documents to members of the Getty family.

I could read a book on the bus to the office, and had hundreds of attorneys to talk with and ask questions about Law. I learned a great deal, met some great people, and eventually began to understand that I was not the type of person who should be a lawyer. This was probably a good way to learn that I was not cut-out for that particular profession.

Eventually, family tradition began to influence me, and I resolved to study Chemical Engineering. I think there were several reasons for this, including my family’s predilection for Engineering, and the fact that I had always liked Chemistry. I also was fascinated with the music of Iannis Xenakis, a Composer/Architect who wrote music about Chemical Engineering, Mathematics, and Physics. I was led back into Engineering by way of the Humanities. I had always been especially good in Science and Math, so I thought it made a lot of sense; plus, it seemed pretty assured that I could manage to make a living at it.

So, a few years later, I did graduate with a Chemical Engineering degree and was able to find an entry-level Chemist job in the Electroplating industry. Here I was working with people who were shop-owners that made $500,000 per year… this was obviously something that made money. I also realized, though, that repeated exposure to toxic chemicals, cyanide, sulfuric acid, hydrofluoric acid, etc. was not really all that appealing.

For that reason, I eventually transitioned to a sales career-path – selling plating chemicals for an esoteric but fascinating process of auto-catalytic deposition of nickel phosphorus (i.e. “electroless nickel”). I learned that the communication and language skills I had acquired while studying Philosophy actually had value in terms of making it easier to explain concepts and make persuasive arguments. I was able to use reason and logic to achieve sales of product.

This was something I hadn’t really expected. All of the sudden, Philosophy actually had a practical application. I could use logic and reasoning to present rational reasons for customers to buy the products I was hawking, and could make them feel good about using them.

Eventually, of course, I transitioned into the career of Executive Search, where I have been for the past 30 years. I use my skills in Engineering and Philosophy both, on a daily basis. Philosophy is very helpful for strategic thinking, ethics, and selling of ‘intangibles’. Engineering, equally, is a passion that is fortuitous to have. Nothing is more exciting to me than cutting-edge Science and Technology being applied at the highest competitive levels to achieve commercial success and successful productization.

The truth, is, at least according to Kristen Grob, that Philosophy majors earn more than their counterpart majors, and maybe as much as Engineering majors. I was shocked with her statement, but it seems to have some facticity. I found it hard to believe that the pursuit of Non-material Wisdom could somehow equate with Science based on the nature of Matter (i.e. Chemistry).

In 30 years of placing Scientists and Engineers, I have only once encountered another person with Bachelor’s degrees in both Chemical Engineering and Philosophy. Only one other person, and I have about 30,000 resumes on file, with probably over 200,000 personal contacts over my career.

What do the facts really say? Since I work with Engineers and Scientists, of course I’m not so likely to see resumes of other Philosophy majors. That doesn’t mean they can’t make money. Some statistics say that the average Philosophy graduate makes $80,000 per year. Certainly, this is comparable to what Engineers earn.

Realistically speaking, would I be the Engineering Headhunter I am today, without having had a Philosophy degree? Probably not. I think that the communication skills alone that I learned were priceless. Having the ability to communicate well is not always common among Engineers. Both disciplines involve problem-solving, but only Philosophy focuses on persuading others of the correctness of one’s viewpoint. This element is neglected in most Engineering curricula. I do think that there should be more of a hybridization between the two fields. It can only help.

Meanwhile, I must also admit that I am the most-followed “Philosopher/Engineer” on Twitter in the World.

Is that worth any money?

Probably not. But it’s a whole lot more fun!

[presidentrhodes]

iron husbands?

yaaaaaas thank u ❤️❤️❤️

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

tony is the hunter; he comes from a long family of hunters who hunted werewolves in europe and then crossed the pond to come to the us. rhodey is heir/alpha to one of the royal bloodlines and centuries of survival instincts carved into his very dna has taught him to keep a low profile. rhodey's kept an eye on tony since college because their respective bloodlines have a long, bloody history. when wolves start turning up dead, rhodey assumes tony must be responsible, so he shows up in new york, ready to put tony's entrails on display in time square as a statement to the humans. except, to his surprise, he finds out tony has not only left his family's bloody history behind in the past, he's become a vocal activist campaigning for the rights of magical creatures in the country, including the werewolves. cue, rhodey and tony team up to find out who's killing the wolves and take them down; in the process, they obviously fall in love.

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

tony is the mermaid; he's been cast out of his family because of a mistake that got many merpeople and other marine creatures killed. he's been struggling to survive in the vast depths of the ocean, depressed, lonely and almost going out of his mind. one day, he sees a fishing boat capsize; while the land breathers are obviously an enemy, he ignores his basic survival instincts to help the fisherman struggling to stay afloat in the rough waters. tony brings the fisherman to a nearby island, with lots of greenery in the middle and no humans on it, and tends to his wounds (a broken arm, cuts and bruises etc). when the fisherman comes to, tony learns his name is rhodey and that, like him, he had also been cast out of his family and has nowhere else to go; that's why rhodey had set off for the ocean, hoping the waters would take him somewhere new. tony proposes that given their similar situation, they can begin their life anew on the island. and rhodey agrees.

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

tony's the witch, rhodey is the familiar. tony spent the first 20 years of his life thinking he didn't have magic, even though everyone in his family is a witch or a warlock. rhodey's an animagus; his animal form is a grey wolf, and he had been with tony since he was a puppy and tony an infant. one day, tony is being chased by a wendigo and rhodey leaps in front of it to save tony's life, getting seriously wounded in the process. tony panics because rhodey's literally bleeding out in his arms and he summons every last bit of strength and wills rhodey's wounds to close shut. they do; and suddenly tony feels the magic surge through his veins, beat against his pulse and thrum in his ears. rhodey's wounds heal completely within minutes and tony, with his newfound powers, drags his best friend and familiar to the nearest bar for a celebratory drink because "fuck you, howard, i'm a witch."

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

tony is the barista. he runs a small coffee shop that fits barely 10 people indoors and business has been bad ever since a fancier café opened across the road. tony knows he's going to probably have to close down soon and move out of the city because he can no longer afford rent. one night, right before he's about to close for the day, a tired businessman comes stumbling in and offers a $100 bill for a cup of coffee. tony notices how distressed and tired the man looks, so he lets him in and makes him a strong cup of coffee and warms up some meat pie, which the latter accepts gratefully. he finds out that rhodey's under a lot of stress because the board of directors at his company is trying to oust him from power. tony lends rhodey a listening ear that he desperately needs and they stay there in the café until 3am. from next day onwards, rhodey becomes a regular patron at the café, but business still dwindles until one day, tony puts up a notice outside informing customers that he will close down by the end of the week. rhodey doesn't show up for the next several days and tony assumes he probably gets his coffee from the other café now; until, on friday, as tony's about to close his outlet for the final time, rhodey shows up and hands him a stack of papers: it's the purchase deed for the space across the road. turns out, rhodey made the other café owner an offer they couldn't turn down. rhodey tells tony that he quit his job as ceo of his company and asks tony if he wants to be business partners. within a month, they're running the café from across the road and business has never been better; tony still works as barista from time to time even though they now have 10 full-time staff and rhodey's already talking about plans to create more franchises across the country. at some point, they evolve from being just business partners to...well, partners.

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

tony's the TA/PhD candidate and rhodey's the professor. they are both astrophysicists by training and they study pulsars for research. needless to say, their academic opinions differ plenty and whenever tony isn't marking problem sets and rhodey isn't lecturing young, impressionable minds, they're arguing about pulsars and what they can tell the world about matter and the existence of other exo-planets over a night cap. tony is envied by the other doctoral candidates in his year because he gets to spend so much time in professor rhodes' proximity (hello??? hot, youngish professor who's super accomplished, super smart, has some graying hair, wears tight polos and black-rimmed glasses? fucking hell...) in this instance tony's like 29, rhodey's about 34.

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

rhodey's the knight and tony's the prince. here's the backstory: tony's mum was king howard's first wife. when howard remarried, he had another son, prince arno. per the kingdom's rules on succession, you can only ascend the throne if you're of pure royal blood. tony's mum was a commoner, so she was never afforded the royal title of queen, whereas howard's second wife was a princess from a neighbouring kingdom. that said, king howard wants tony to inherit the throne, something that many of his close advisors as well as arno and his mother refuse to accept. they see tony as an impediment and when howard falls ill, numerous attempts are made on tony's life. tony is obviously very booksmart and he excels at strategy, which is why howard wants him to be king. when howard senses a possible civil war could be brewing in the kingdom, between supporters who want tony to be king and those who'd prefer arno, he calls aside a young knight, sir james, and makes him swear on his life to protect tony. (howard knew tony and rhodey had been childhood friends, which is why he approached him in the first place) when shit hits the proverbial ceiling, rhodey protects tony from all manners of assassination attempts until arno and his mother are finally thwarted and kicked out of the kingdom. tony becomes king and rhodey becomes his most trusted advisor, friend, confidante, and general. basically, tony hands the keys of the kingdom to rhodey and relies on him and his decisions to run it.

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

tony teaches kindergarten and loves his young charges very much. one day, they're joined by a shy, quiet new student, lila, and her overly anxious uncle, james. tony tries to reassure rhodey that lila, who had just lost her parents, would be fine and that he'd make sure she isn't being bullied or harassed for being the new kid. as the term progresses, lila slowly comes out of her shell; she makes friends, she loves recess, she loves colouring, and she is good with numbers. every week tony calls his kids' parents to update them on their children; his conversations with rhodey, however, last twice as long and become twice as frequent, until one day rhodey invites tony to lila's birthday party. tony isn't sure how to read into this: the other parents have never really invited him to their kids' birthdays and yet he doesn't want to turn down the invitation from the rhodes' (mostly because he doesn't want to upset young lila). though nothing happens at the birthday party, rhodey keeps asking him out. it starts under the pretext of wanting to know how lila is doing and morphs into them just spending time together until tony impulsively kisses rhodey on the day of lila's graduation to k2. with lila no longer his student, tony asks rhodey out on a proper date and soon he's spending his weekends at the rhodes' place until about a year later, he moves in with rhodey and lila.

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

rhodey is the editor for the opinions section in one of the top newspapers; he has a pretty fierce reputation of being a hardass editor who would chew and spit out anyone making rookie mistakes in the entire newsroom. new writers and reporters basically cower in fear; tony's an established hotshot columnist who's been headhunted from a rival paper to write a weekly political column. he is pretty well-known among politicos and is well read by a loyal audience, both offline and online. tony is basically used to getting his way until he submits his first copy for edit and rhodey returns it, each page crossed out in red, and with a remark on the final page that read: our company motto may be all news fit to print, but i am not letting this garbage print. tony is furious. how dare someone call his columns garbage when the news organisation is literally paying him a six-figure salary to write them. he marches up to rhodey's office and barges in, ready to fight. but he stops on track and blushes when he realises this asshole editor is the same handsome college senior that tony had a short, deeply physical relationship with almost 20 years ago. the argument just melts away from him and even rhodey can't find it in him to be as curt and critical as he is to the other writers because damn...the encounter brings up a lot of memories and regrets they have both had since leaving college and then losing touch.

send me a ship!

[engmjr419]

Joice Heth and the Antebellum Depiction

An advertisement for Joice Heth from 1835 Source

Imagine, if you will, it is December of 1835. It’s the end of another week and you’re attending an exhibition in a hotel to settle down. You pay 25 cents at the door for admission, and you’re herded into the exhibition hall where a sea of white faces gathers around a central figure. In the middle of room, is an old black slave woman, filling the room with the smell of an old pipe. 

Her face is a field of wrinkles, her eyes stare blankly out without movement, and her nails are long, unkempt, and filthy. This is Joice Heth, the main attraction, the supposed nanny (or mammy) of George Washington, the father of a country. She entertains the crowd with catholic hymns, historical stories, and warm quotes while the mass of people poke, prod, and examine her beyond any reasonable boundary.

Who and what is she? It would not matter if you were young or old, rich or poor, Slave owner or Abolitionist. You would simply be a face in the crowd, looking at her, examining her, and considering her. Is she really George Washington’s nursemaid? Is she an automation made of black tar, whale bone, and India rubber? Okay, granted she definitely isn’t an automation made of tar, but curiosity still parades the mind thanks to rumors, gossip, and discussion amongst the audience.

To funnel these thoughts into a single sentence, a viewer’s background, social class, culture, and race influence how they digest and interact with entertainment. In this case, the entertainment is an enslaved old black woman paraded around the country under a guise of historical connection. How would you look at her? Would you see her as a pitiful slave? A fellow deceiver of the masses? A mummy? An automation? An animalistic creature? The nursemaid of George Washington? To be more direct, how a society and culture creates racial concepts, class, stereotypes, and caricatures influenced how the audiences of Barnum viewed, interacted with, and discussed Joice Heth.

           Throughout her travels with Barnum and Lyman, a curious multivalence marked the exhibit of Joice Heth. Did her decrepitude mark her as a human oddity, to be marketed like the Chinese woman with “disgustingly deformed” bound feet, the Virginia dwarves, and the Siamese twins whose paths she often crossed on the touring circuit? Was it her scientific value as an embodiment of the different aging processes of the different races that merited her display? Was she an attraction because of patriotic value as a living repository of memories of a glorious past? Because she was a storehouse of ancient religious practices? Or simply because she was a good performer? (Reiss 81).

Joice Heth was P.T. Barnum’s breakout humbug, the 161-year-old 46-pound nanny of George Washington. Barnum quickly discovered as he carried out exhibitions of Joice Heth, that the exhibit was not popular because it was extremely believable but because it wasn’t. The possibility that it was both real and not real enabled layers of discussion to build onto the act. This also preyed upon the growing concerns over identity and deceptions in the growing urban space, especially over increasing anxieties about race with identity in increasingly Abolitionist northern states.

P.T. Barnum played his role in presenting himself in that growing anxiety about deception, but Joice Heth played her own role as well. Race in the period of Joice Heth was beginning to be further looked at (this is ironically reflective of our current issues), especially in regard to identity and the desire for scientific assertions. (79).

Barnum’s first humbug manages to continue postmortem of both Joice Heth and P.T. Barnum, for little is known truthfully about her. The most information about her we have is from a twelve-page pamphlet published by Barnum, which was used for advertising so the information in it is questionable minimally and completely fabricated at worst (I lean for the latter).

A depiction of Heth and Barnum from the Potsville Herald, 1835. Source

Joice Heth was legally purchased by P.T. Barnum from John S. Bawling, who had previously been exhibiting her, for the price of 1000$. Barnum in future years made contradictory claims about his ownership of her as a slave. “In 1854 he claimed to be "the proprietor of the negress," while in 1869 he wrote that his payment only made him "proprietor of this novel exhibition”. These differing claims were made to save face, as the American Anti-Slavery Society had already been founded in 1833 and slavery was illegal in the North in the areas where Barnum was exhibiting the woman (The Joice Heth Exhibit).

The only definite thing we can say is Joice Heth died in 1836 of natural causes (despite Barnum’s claims and people’s theories that she wasn’t dead, the corpse was a fake, the autopsy was a hoax, and that she was preparing a tour of Europe as a phial of ashes) and that she was blind, paralyzed in both legs, and toothless. At the time of her autopsy (which Barnum still made an exhibition of at 50 cents a ticket) she was declared to be somewhere in her 80s, which is still pretty good considering the average lifespan of a slave was somewhere in the mid-20’s (Reiss 78).

The cover of the 12-page pamphlet published by an unknown author (presumably P.T. Barnum and co.)  Source

“Joice Heth, the subject of this short memoir, was born on the Island of Madagascar on the coast of Africa, in the year One Thousand Six Hundred and Seventy-four. Of her parents little or nothing is known, save what she herself relates of them…At the age of fifteen she was cruelly torn from the bosom of her parents and her native land by one of those inhuman beings, who in those days, to enrich themselves, made merchandise of human flesh” (Cook 104).

To fully view how people from different Antebellum backgrounds viewed Heth, we first can look at how Barnum presented Heath. In his pamphlet overviewing her, he mixed both Abolitionist wording with the Antebellum narrative of slave and slave owners. In the above except he says she was “cruelly torn from the bosom of her parents” but later on stating “A highly respectable gentleman of Kentucky…who has generously offered to set them free on being paid two-thirds of what they cost him” in regards to a deal from the owner of her great-grandchildren (a story that was created in face of Abolitionist criticism). This is to both satisfy the increasingly Abolitionist North and the Slave-owning south majority, though we cannot ignore that both sides had elements of the other in them at the same time.

He emphasizes that Joice was “treated by them (the Washingtons) as an hired servant rather than a slave” and “as to accommodate her in the enjoyment of the constant company of her helpmate (Peter)” referring to her transfer to another owner. The narrative continues like this, implying she has “great thankfulness” and she “is highly pleased with the idea of her remaining as she is, until death may finally close this mortal scene with her”, her life ended in Barnum’s possession. One cannot say if she was truly complicit in the act, satisfied with her role, mistreated as an object, or otherwise as the only account we have is from the mouth of Barnum who I personally would take with a grain of salt (as he was the proprietor of family-friendly deceptions) (Cook 105).

Top: The depiction of Joice Heth used in advertising from 1835 to 1836. Source

Bottom: An illustration from P.T. Barnum’s autobiography, Source

Furthermore, we must look at how Barnum and others presented her in depictions and in writing as many newspapers ran stories about the hoax. Many drawings, paintings, and sketches of Joice Heth depict her very differently, from alien-looking, to human, to more animalistic in nature from caricature to truthful depiction. The drawing above on the left is from the advertising poster used by Barnum, depicting her with dark, bark-like skin, elongated hands (referencing her supposed long, talon-like nails), and the clothing of the traditional mammy character (a bonnet and an aproned dress).

The drawing on the right is Barnum’s autobiography in 1855, in it she looks immensely less grotesque. The depiction used as advertising by Barnum is obviously an exaggerated caricature for the purposes of drawing in a crowd. It brings to my mind the concept of a “Tar baby” from the stories of Briar Rabbit, who also had roots from slave tales.

A depiction of Tom Rice, a popular minstrel show actor. Source

Caricatures of Black people and other people of color would be not foreign to the audiences of Joice Heth. Afterall, minstrelsy would have been in full swing by the time P.T. Barnum got possession of Heth. Even before then, caricatures of black faces, racist archetypes (specifically in our case the mammy), and exoticism (specifically the mystical minority concept) would be in the minds of the white faces observing her. Caricatures of these people would depict dark, almost pure black skin, exaggerated anatomy, and archetypical clothing, all of which is seen around Joice Heth.

Newspapers at the time described her in various ways, multiple from the New York area calling her an “animated mummy” (a bit harsh if you ask me). The New-York Evening Star describes her as “very much like an Egyptian mummy escaped from the Sarcophagus” while the New-York Sunday News said “This living mummy, on whose head 161 winters have sprinkled their snows” (Cook 108). A letter to the Editor of the New York Transcript shows some beliefs about “blacks” in relation to Heth’s passing and autopsy:

Another important physiological fact should be stated, which is, that blacks have a much greater tenacity for life than whites, and were it not that, like the domestic horse, they are broken down by servitude, they would live to much greater ages than the Circassian race -- and in the case before us, had it not been for the affectation of the lungs… together with what must have been fatigue to her, travelling and being subjected to the annoyance and importunity of her visitors, it is not improbable that the vital spark might have continued to flicker considerably longer (The Joice Heth Exhibit).

While this belief may seem completely odd and illogical to us at this point, let us not forget that a small population of our culture believes the world to be flat. People of the Antebellum era held the black individuals in their society at a different level, wherever that be on a lower one or a mystical one, typically both.

A political cartoon by Mark Knight of the Herald Sun of Serena Williams. Source

Blacks and other races in American society (among others) typically face racial based Dehumanization and Objectification, where the individuals presumed humanity is metaphorically taken from them and then the belief they have conscious, independent thought. This process obviously was done to slaves as they were treated as property rather than conscious individuals. It still occurs today, for example Serena Williams as well as many other Black Americans being called “gorilla” amongst other things and portrayed animalistically like the controversial political cartoon above.

Barnum does this with Joice through several points, from presumably purchasing her as legal property, to claiming and indulging in the fact she enjoys “Animal food” (it is unclear if that means horse, chicken, or dog), to creating an entire rumor that she is an Automation created from “India rubber, Whalebone, and springs” which only pushed audiences to further prod and examine her to further his humbug, “Her debility was a draw, too, for many came to gaze on- even to touch her- marvelously decrepit body” (Cook 105-106, Reiss 79).

Moreover, from the various newspapers and media calling her a “mummy” to Barnum publicizing, dramatizing, and broadcasting her autopsy as a “spectacular display of race”. As Benjamin Reiss puts it further, the autopsy “dramatized some of the new meanings of Racial Identity and provided an opportunity for whites to debate them (in a displaced register) as they gazed upon or read about her corpse” (79). Joice Heth was continually objectified by the masses, as a topic for discussion, as a thing to examine, and as a being to figure and unearth it’s identity.

The audiences of Joice Heth were probably never made up of one individual group. Poor or rich, Young or Old, Abolitionist or Slave owner, Southerner or Northerner. Each face in that sea of individuals had an individual thought and concept of Joice Heth, if she was real or fake, human or machine, aged beyond human limit or simply mundanely old, a pitiful slave held under Barnum’s thumb or a fellow deceiver who was comfortable in her servitude.

For whoever and however the viewer may have seen her, their opinion was influenced by what they were presented and what rumors they digested, their view of Black americans and slavery as a whole, and their fears or beliefs of identity and race. Joice Heth served to the masses as a way for them to further their concept of identity, race, deceptions in the growing urban site, and assert their influences on the new Antebellum era.

It is ironic then how I, another white face in the crowd, am looking upon Heth and considering her for myself in this era of racial discussion. That I am yet another white individual talking for Heth, in place of her own voice.

Phineas T. Barnum. “The Colossal P.T. Barnum Reader: Nothing Else Like It In the Universe.” Edited by James W. Cook, 2005, 104-108.

“The Joice Heth Exhibit.” The Lost Muesum Archive, https://lostmuseum.cuny.edu/archive/exhibit/heth

Benjamin Reiss. “P. T. Barnum, Joice Heth and Antebellum Spectacles of Race” American Quaterly, No. 1, Vol. 51, 1999, 78-107.