#eleonor says stuff

[eleonorpiteira]

I will be closing my Redbubble store at the end of the year, these are the only 3 illustrations left if anyone still wants to get anything (prints and other goodies like notebooks, tote bags, shirts, etc).

From now on my Inprnt store will be the only place where my art prints will be available.

#redbubble #inprnt #PSA #eleonor says stuff #art prints #I'm very sorry to everyone from Europe because getting things from inprnt is a pain (customs) #but redbubble pays MISERABLY to the artists #like literal cents sometimes lol even when YOU are paying upwards of 20 dollars/euros #inprnt pays artists much better #support living artists! the human kind of artists ❤

[avergehistoryenjoyer]

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s official! I’m writing a musical!

For those of you in the community who have known me for a while, this is nothing new, but I’ve been working on it for quite awhile, so I finally want to unveil what I have so far.

The show is officially called “Tyrant! The Story of Robespierre” or just “Tyrant!” for short, and here’s my first concept for the album cover below!

As for the actual story and songs, right now I’m planning on having 16 songs per act, and I’ll format the songs I’ve written or am currently in the process of writing! 

 Italic = work in progress

Bold = fully written

With that being said, this is the song catalogue and all I’ve gotten done so far!

Act 1:

Tyrant! (Show opener) - immediately after his death

Address for the King - early childhood

Never shall we part - transition from childhood to adulthood, meets Camille

Song addressed to Miss Henriette - young adulthood

And So I Reminisce - trio song for the siblings

He Just Can’t Stop - lawyer career in Arras

Let Us Speak/We Swear - Estates general + tennis court oath

Camille’s Address (Bring It Down) - Storming of the bastille

Hey Ladies! (Theroigne’s song + Women’s March on Versailles)

Bienvenue aux Jacobins - Joins the Jacobin club and meets Danton, gets elected president of the club

Never shall we part (1st reprise) - Camille’s marriage to Lucile

Escape (Louis + Marie flee Paris, Champ de Mars massacre)

There’s Safety Here (Robespierre meets Maurice Duplay, moves into the Duplay house)

This Means War! (Speeches against the war and Brissotins, war gets declared anyways)

The Tuileries Tango (Storming of the Tuileries and overthrow of the monarchy)

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité For All (Establishment of the republic, Robespierre at his height, his big “I want” song)

Act 2:

Incorruptible (Saint-Just’s debut and Robespierre’s election to the National convention)

So Ends the Reign of Tyranny (Louis’ trial and execution)

Bienvenue aux committee/ Bienvenue le Jacobins (reprise) (Appointment to the CPS)

Choose Your Side/And So I Reminisce (reprise) (Charlotte and Augustine’s fight, fracture in the family, duet with Élèonore, PLATONIC, NOT ROMANTIC)

Principio Ad Finem/ A late night’s walk (“darker” ‘I want’ song, NOT A VILLAIN SONG )

What is he doing? (Camille publishes his paper and says stupid stuff)

Never Shall We Part (2nd and 3rd reprises) (Max and SJ duet, Camille’s denouncement from friends to enemies)

A Meeting/Make Him a Monster (CPS meeting, Thermidorian villain song)

You’re Unwell (Eleonore and SJ duet, Max falls ill/ slowly loosing his sanity)

So Ends the Reign of Tyranny/ Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité for All (reprise) (Arrests and executions of Camille, Danton and their followers, closest thing to a villain song for Robespierre)

This Glorious Day (Festival of the Supreme Being, more Thermidorian conspiring)

Principio Ad Finem (reprise) (Max writes his 8 Thermidor speech)

My Final Bow (8 Thermidor speeches for the convention and the Jacobins)

We Swear/Let Me Speak! (9 Thermidor denouncement and arrest)

Requiem (Hotel De Ville siege, bullet to the jaw, death, 11th hour power ballad)

May You Ne’er Be Forgotten (basically charlotte’s ‘who lives who dies who tells your story’, her 11th hour power ballad, grand finale of the show)

I know that was a lot thrown at y’all, and obviously I’ve still got a long ways to go, but I’ll be working hard at it all summer, and I hope to have at least half of the first act finished by the end of this summer! I’ll keep working on asks too now that my schedule’s freed up, but I thought it’d be a fun announcement to share with all of you for Max’s birthday, and I can’t wait for you to see the rest of it! Love you all! ❤️❤️❤️

-Syd

#robespierre #Maximilien Robespierre #Tyrant! The story of Robespierre #musical #musical theatre

[skepticalarrie]

Hi Allie! I really need to hear your thoughts about Headline and Saturdays. Me and a friend of mine talked about the entire album and for her these are the two songs that makes her says that it's a "break up album" (she said she's got others, but didn't tell me the titles). My thought about Headline since the beginning (when we first got to have the tracklist) was that it is about eleonor and the stunt. About saturdays I don't really know, but it really is a sad song about someone who has been left.

Hi love! I think I talked a bit about Saturdays before when I was talking about Angels Fly as well. For me, this song really sounds like it could be about dealing with grief. It doesn't really come across as anything romantic to me, it's a sad track, about someone who is gone. Especially the trainers line. The lyrics are so strong in this song, so many sad lines but also mixed with more positive and "comforting" ones, and that's very interesting. I can really see how Louis' experiencing grief was very much about that very same mix of feelings. Seeing Louis talk about his creative process in this album though, I'd guess the feeling of this song could be inspired by his own experience but maybe all the visuals are not necessarily literal events that happened.

As for Headline, I think there could be elements there that will further link it to a stunt song, absolutely. I'm not entirely sure what they're doing with Elounor lately but it's pretty clear that there's a least an idea being seeded that they're not together anymore. At Tim's listening party he also said The Academic did a great job writing the song and he only made a few changes, so I don't really know to what extent Louis was really involved in these lyrics and how much of it was already written when it got to him. And the fact Louis seemed to be more open about that in this album it's really cool! But either way, the idea of this song sounding a bit stunt-y doesn't bother me one bit, it's such an amazing song!

And about your friend saying is a "break-up album", I don't know if she's talking about Elounor or Larry when saying that, but I really disagree in both scenarios. I don't really see this album as having this one particular narrative that Louis was trying to write based on so it could fit that narrative. He's talking about so many different things, so many different feelings. Especially because he's said he wrote a lot of stuff not necessarily based on his personal experiences, so I don't think anything should be taken too literally here and it's what really makes the album so great! Plus Louis did address that directly someone implying this could be a breakup album here. And LOL his face when the guy was saying all of that?!? Please. This is not a breakup album in any scenario.

#ask #headline #saturdays #faith in the future #lyric analysis

[missflurry]

Leading up to the final season of Never Have I Ever I will share my thoughts before I’ve seen season 4 <3

First of all, I am definitely team Devi, but in my fangirl heart I’m also really Team Benvi 😭♥️ With the “you were my dream” scene to Paxton it for me just wraps up what Paxton was to Devi: a dream image, that helped her, but is not real relationship material.

Ben and Devi’s banter is so freaking amazing. The actors have such amazing chemistry. If Devi is going to end up with someone, it’s Ben. He had supported her through everything. I do want for Devi to have a moment to maybe say sorry again for what happened, to have a real heartfelt moment to show him that she respects him, but was just scared for love and intimacy.

It would be nice for Ben to have a moment of true appreciation. I love his character and I want to see a lot of him! Also him standing up for himself, owning himself, and just some happy moments, because the Ben episodes have been my favourite but also pretty sad.

I am a bit scared though that we might not see a lot of Ben(vi), because of what we saw in the trailer. I wish I hadn’t seen the trailer. It doesn’t make me really happy, more anxious why they have to invite ANOTHER boy into it. Just give me some Benvi cuteness, PLEASE. I’m also afraid that the ‘boink scene’ payoff isn’t gonna be that grand, even tho it all left us breathless at the end of last season. I don’t mean we are gonna see a sex scene, nope nope nope, I mean that I hoped for some in depth emotional talk about it. Welp, seems like that’s gonna be drawn out ;)

I am happy well see Paxton too and I hope he’ll get a lovely storyline, exploring even more of his growth, but I also hope he won’t be a love interest for Devi anymore. I would love to see a real friendship between them!

I have the feeling that it’s gonna end in a ‘team Devi’ way, her not being in a relationship and focusing on her personal goals. I do however hope the ending will be leaning towards Ben. They have such a beautiful bound so I hope they will kind of leave it open, with a wink to their attraction to another. Or even an ‘where will they end up’ scene.

I want the PSYCHOLOGIST to be there almost every episode because I LOVE that this is a series where the psychologist is actually pretty capable. Gosh there are a lot of bad stereotypical psychologists in series. I hope for a lot more beautiful quotes from her. I feel like the teens watching need to hear ‘em.

I also love Nalini and Kamala and their growth so love to see that. I’m sorry but I’m not such a fan of Eleonore and Fabiola. I did like their storylines more last season though! So I hope they keep that up. Can we have a realistic and interesting lesbian/bi story please? Maybe with Aneesa? A good bi story? Please?

Trent is a cutie and a good actor for his age. Not my most fav character but I always like his scenes so I’m excited to see him!

I love the cast so much. I’m already watching interviews and Jaren, Maitreyi and Darren are so amazing!! I’m gonna miss them! I hope to see them in other stuff!

#never have i ever #Benvi #devi vishwakumar

[joanna-lannister]

JC Fancast Anon here

Do you have any book or movie recs? I like most anything (tho i do tend to stay away from horror/body gorey stuff, psychological and thrillers are good tho)

Is there a show you don't think gets enough love that you recommend?

Should I spend $30 on a mini coach umbrella just cause it's cute but technically a waste cause I doubt it'll actually keep me dry in the rain? (Idk why that little green stripe does it for me)

LINK: https://www.coachoutlet.com/products/uv-protection-signature-mini-umbrella/C4322-SVWSS.html

OMG That umbrella is cute! But yes, I get it would be a waste if it doesn't keep you dry 😭 Maybe keep those 30$ for something else. Who knows, you might find another umbrella less expensive that would keep you dry 👀 Tell me if you end up getting it or not.

As for books and movies recs, THE VIRGIN SUICIDES! (both the movie and the book, it's one of my favorite movie and my fave book). Also you should read The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel. I dream to have it adapted as a mini-series like Sharp Objects. Speaking of Sharp Objects, any books by Gillian Flynn. I LOVE Gone Girl (and same for the movie). Factory Girl with Sienna Miller is also an underrated movie you should watch. Then I'd say any Sofia Coppola's movies (tho I haven't seen them all, but their aesthetic is always neat 👌🏻), I think you could like The Beguiled from what you told me. Then, I like lot of horror movies so my recs are a little bit limited here, but if you want one which is fun and not gorey, you can try Happy Death Day.

And for underrated shows, the first one coming to my mind is The Royals with Elizabeth Hurley. It's the story of an original British Royal Family and it's absolutely funny, tho some moment might break your heart 😭 But Eleonore, one of the main characters, has such an amazing arc and she will be forever one of my fave characters. Also, the soundtrack is a BANGER!

#jc fancast anon ❤️ #anon #answered

[robespapier]

It’s a shame Guy Breton died in 2008 because I have so many questions for him. 

I don’t know if Breton believed himself to be a “serious Historian”; he seemed mostly interested in spilling the tea and re-telling the wildest, most dramatic, most over-the-top stories he can find, with total disregard of historal accuracy, coherence or consistency, but sometimes Breton provides sources, and some are known sources, like when he uses Pierre Villiers’ Souvenirs d'un déporté: we know Villiers isn’t trustworthy, but the source is known. The problem I have is that sometimes he doesn’t give specific sources and will only says “a thermidorian phamphlet said that...” or gives sources that I can’t find...

For instance, has anybody heard of Barthélemy’s La Révolution et ceux qui l’ont faite??? I assume it’s this Barthélemy. 

That being said, I don’t trust Breton to not make stuff up for shit and giggles, I mean LOOK AT HIM

The face of an innocent man! A man who would never make shit up!! 

Anyway, I’m gonna show you something very cursed (which, according to Breton, comes from Barthélemy’s mysterious La Révolution et ceux qui l’ont faite), I hope y’all won’t hate me. The source is Guy Breton’s Histoires d’amours de l’Histoire de France, V6: Quand l’amour était “Sans-Culotte” (1960).  

Barthélemy repeated these gossips in his book on the Révolution: 

“Tyran thirsty for blood and glory, Robespierre was also a lustful and hypocritical being. In the last period of this life, he stayed with a carpenter of the street Saint-Honoré, the citizen Duplay, who went to all the meetings of the Jacobin Club.”

“Betraying the laws of hospitality, Robespierre became the lover of Madame Duplay and Eléonore, the eldest daughter of the carpenter, a pretty twenty-years old virgin.”

“The tyran sometimes took his hostess on walks in Choisy, to enjoy natural love in a bucolic place. There, losing all reserve, Madame Duplay would give herself to Robespierre on a bed of ferns in a scenery that would have seemed ideal to Jean-Jacques Rousseau.”

“On the evening, the two lovers would come back to Paris, exhausted by caresses.”

Some thoughts: 

Well, it’s true he had a mommy kink (Rousseau, not Robespierre!) 

Not sure if 18C people had a thing for fucking on ferns (or if that’s Breton passing his own writting for direct quotes) but Breton also said that Saint-Just and Thérèse Gellé did it “on golden ferns” after doing it a few days prior in a broom nook...after a baptism that happened in December, so they must have frozen their butts off (BUT THAT’S A STORY FOR ANOTHER DAY!)

Eleonore wasn’t 20 when she met Robespierre, she was 23 (and 26 when he died), that being said, I think it’s possible to read the original French phrasing as “twenty something” or “around 20″ and not precisely 20 years old. 

There’s also something to be said about stories making a point of calling Eleonore a virgin, while telling us she and Robespierre had sex. I guess the idea is to worsen Robespierre’s immortality in pointing out he took her virginity??

It’s also weird how she’s defined as “pretty” and a “virgin” in the same sentence, like it’s two things she has going for her?? (which is very creepy), and like her virginity was something of value Robespierre took/was lucky to get. 

I hate the “would give herself” but I think the idea is Robespierre being seen as a God, so it’s a religious experience, silly me -_- 

In footnote Breton says it’s proven the walks in Choisy happened because Elisabeth wrote about it. But I hate how he calls her Memoirs her “journal/diary”: it feels so dismissive. 

Breton himself doesn’t believe in Robespierre x Françoise Duplay, he thinks it’s Thermidorian bullshit and presents it as such, but his vibe is “that’s bullshit, but let me tell you about it anyway cause it’s very funny!”. 

However the chapter is titled “Madame Duplay chockes on her love for Robespierre” which is incredibly disrespectful and in very poor taste because it’s a direct reference to Françoise Duplay being found dead, hanged in her prison cell after Thermidor. To this day we don’t know if it was suicide or murder, but Breton tells it as a proven suicide; and act of extreme distress done after the death of Robespierre and the emprisonnement of her whole family (is that sth worth making puns about Guy, really?). 

Breton doesn’t believe in Françoise Duplay having sex with Robespierre, but he 100% believe he and Eleonore fucked, for no other reason that he wants literally everyone to have lots of (amazing) sex, and his “love stories” are more like “sex stories”. 

The sex being amazing in Breton’s stories is what makes him endearing to me, his energy is very “you go girl! have fun!” and he doesn’t feel judgy. I’d take Breton anyday over Hillary Mantel’s awfully bleak, unconfortable sex scene.

Anyway, has anybody heard of Paul Decasse’s Robespierre et la Terreur? Because I will tell his story next, it’s awfully cursed but it reads like a farce, it’s amazing

#guy breton #robespierre #françoise duplay #thermidorian bullshit #this post is so cursed i'm sorry (i'm not)

[jbreenr]

⚠ HAWKEYE 104 SPOILERS ⚠

Alright…

I just don't know why a lot of people are not liking this series, like, it's just do freaking good.

Of course, we have to mention Natasha again. “Being good doesn't keep you alive.” And sadly, Kate's mom is right in that one.

But talking about Kate's mom… Who was it you were calling Eleonor? Uh? I need answers, woman.

So, Jack is the CEO of one of the Tracksuits companies. Man, I don't know what's going on.

Life hacks! That's all I gotta say about Clint using all that stuff from the fridge for his injuries. Life. Hacks.

Now, Kate doing a movie marathon and ugly sweaters and decorating a three with Clint. She's a baby and we must protect her at all cost.

Lemme say that Kate's idea of boomerang arrows is not that weird… or, it wouldn't be if they weren't, you know, arrows. I see Clint's point here. 😂

Clint's better shot was the one he never took. They're making me very emotional rn. “She's the best there was.” I miss her too.

And Kate, comprehending and understanding that he's the Ronin, assuring him that he's a hero because he was saving people.

They're #partners-slash-best-friends. They're besties. I love them.

The boss, Kazi's boss doesn't like attention. Uhmmm. I wonder who that is. I have no idea. Who could he possibly be? It's a total mystery.

Oh (and I can't get this excited), mY GOODNESSSSSS. That's Yelena. She's here. She's here. Ajslddlsñlskks. I'm sorry if I'm fangirling too hard.

I mean, yeah, I knew she'd be in this episode but it's still ✨ epic ✨.

And finally, Clint being hard on Kate because he doesn't want her to get hurt. Man, I can't wait to see the next episode.

#hawkeye spoilers #hawkeye season 1 #hawkeye series #hawkeye #hawkeye clint barton #hawkeye kate bishop #hawkeye show #hawkeye s1 #hawkeye speculation #clint barton hawkeye #clint francis barton #clint barton #kate bishop #yelena black widow #yelena belova #jeremy renner #hailee steinfeld #florence pugh #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #hawkeye marvel #marvel disney #disney marvel #marvel spoilers #marvel series #maya lopez #echo mcu #echo marvel #spoilers #disney+

[doryness]

I watched all the second season of NHIE.

• I really enjoyed Devi's growth. I loved her so much in this season, she made me cry many many times

• I really liked Paxton's journey through this season, he's truly a great character

• I loved so much the dynamic between Devi, Fabiola and Eleanor. Fabiola is amazing, her journey is wonderful. Same for Eleonor, she deserves the best. Their friendship is so beautiful, and I enjoyed it more during this season

• Nalini and Devi dynamic is perfect. They made me emotional, I just couldn't cry watching them rebuilding their relationship

• For the Ship Topic...

SPOILER ALERT

Of course I'm sad for my ship. Pretty sad to be honest. It hurt me really bad.

But I'm not angry towards Paxton and Devi. Their moments together were cute and intense: I can say that I genuinely shipped them.

But I am and I'll always be a Benvi stan. And I really really REALLY hope they announce a third season. There are many many stuffs for a new season, and I really hope to see these characters again.

Anyway.

I just want to say that this tv show meant so much to me. It helped me going through hard times in my life, and I really enjoyed watching these new episodes. I'm happy and sad at the same time, but I knew it would have happened.

So... yes. These are my thoughts on NHIE 2.

#never have i ever season 2 #never have i ever spoilers #never have i ever #personal #personal thoughts #fangirl life #mood: happy and sad but okay #benvi #daxton #devi vishwakumar #ben gross #paxton hall yoshida #eleanor wong #fabiola torres #nalini vishwakumar #kamala #aneesa #mindy kaling

[celestialend]

Downfall, chapter 3

Masterlist

I'd say I'm sorry but... I'm really not, woopsie

tw: sexual assault, panic attack

If Elide was being honest, she was tired of interviews. She didn’t mind when they talked about her music, about her work. But this man was more interested in her choice of dress, and Elide was exhausted.

Quite frankly, she had had to leave Lorcan in her very comfortable bed this morning, and all she wanted to do was go back there and curl up against him.

So Elide really was not paying attention to the journalist anymore when he made a move on her. He had very casually leaned toward her, and put his hand on her thigh. Elide moved her legs away from him immediately. She looked around, and couldn’t find Rowan. The man was smirking, and Elide was starting to get scared.

“Come on, Elide. We all know what you’re like.”

Elide couldn’t hide her surprise from showing. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve seen the video,” he smirked. “Salvaterre’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man laid back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. “See, when you have sex in public places, maybe make sure they’re not taped.”

Everything added together in her brain, and all colors drained from her face. The award show a week ago. Did he mean....?

“I got your unintentional sex tape right here,” he hold his phone up. “So Lochan, what will you do for me to keep it a secret?”

Elide blinked. And he leaned down again, both hands on her chair, uncomfortably close to her face.

“Salvaterre seemed to enjoy himself very much. And I can’t say I’m not curious. You know what I want.”

Elide started crying then. Her mind was reeling, she was alone and defenseless, he was a grown ass man and she was a tiny woman. But she didn’t give him anything. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. And then she did the only thing she could think of, and spit in his face.

He did not like it. She could see the fury in his eyes, and the second he raised his hand, she thought she was finished. But Rowan had a perfect timing and chose this moment to finally open the door, coffee in hand. He took the scene in, and she could see his brain turn on his defense mode. It took him a few seconds to cross the room and haul the journalist away from her.

Elide could hear them yelling, but she wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. She couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere in her mind, she realized she was having a panic attack. She made herself move to her purse, so she could get her anxiety medication. She took two, and then she called Lorcan.

She had no idea where Rowan was, just that he had taken the journalist out of the room.

“Hey Tiny,” Lorcan was cheerful, and something eased in Elide at hearing his voice. She couldn’t talk thought, her breathing was still not under control, and so she only managed to breathe his name before bursting into tears.

Rowan chose this moment to get back to the room, and all but marched to her. He sat next to her, and made a motion for her to come into his arms, which she did. He took her phone, murmuring some stuff to Lorcan, and Elide was clinging to Rowan. She was gripping his shirt and shaking, but she could feel her medication kick in.

It was a few minutes later that Rowan carried her out, and she fell asleep in the car.

***

Rowan didn’t let go of Elide all the way to Lorcan’s penthouse. She was cradled to his chest, still asleep, and Rowan was thankful for this. As long as she was sleeping, shock wouldn’t catch up to her.

The driver pulled up in front of the building, and Rowan took the stairs two at the time.

Lorcan was already waiting for them, anguish on his face.

It was only when Rowan passed her to Lorcan that Elide woke up. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, hiding her face in his neck.

Breathing was easier then, only the scent of his cedar shampoo. Her heart beat slowed down. Her mind stopped roaring.

Here she was safe. Lorcan wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

She was safe, safe, safe.

Lorcan took her to his room, and helped her change before she settled in his bed. Her eyes were dropping, the medication still having a hold on her, and Lorcan could tell she was fighting sleep.

“Sleep, Tiny,” he kissed her forehead, a barely there touch that lingered.

“But,” she yawned, “we have to…”

Lorcan interrupted her. “Let me handle it, ok? Right now , you need sleep.”

Elide nodded, and yawned again.

“I’m not leaving the flat. No one’s coming into our room. You’re safe, Elide.” His voice was solemn, showing how serious he was, and Elide relaxed, finally falling back to sleep.

tagged: @stardustsroses @the-regal-warrior @nalgenewhore @dawninlatin @highqueenofelfhame @sleeping-and-books  @queen-of-glass @wifeofchrishemsworth @yikesitsmaddie @whydoineedtowriteanamehere @starbornelleth @awesomelena555 @fireheartdreamerstarborn @acourtofabsandillyrians @maastrash @bookishwitchling @sayosdreams @rockgirl321 @iammissstark @agem10 @noodlecatposts @sanakapoor @se-ono-waise-ilia @notyournymphetish @grace-k-sterling @silentquartz @eleonor-da-silva @cristinaid28 @rowanisahunk @ireallyshouldsleeprn @louiseleblancdiggory @aelinchocolatelover @http-itsrebecca @shyvioletcat @thewayshedreamed @featherymalignancy @claralady @julemmaes @darklesmylove @city-of-fae @rowaelinismyotp @firestarsandseneschals @flamingveritas @empress-ofbloodshed

#downfall #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan #elide x lorcan #throne of glass #my writing

[mack3030]

How we handle problems like “adults” - A post for itsbrandysims ;)

So, do not use tumblr much as a platform for myself as much as I use it to find CC content for my own game.  If you’ve not seen my CC tracker, it’s a sight to behold. But, I’m going to talk today about the recent drama with Savvysweet and Itsbrandysims because I’m really tired of just reblogging everything and I figure I might as well share my voice. 

First of all, let’s address the background to this situation. It all started when itsbrandysims decided to call out savvysweet (shelly) for using a BASE of his mesh to create some of her hairs without crediting. Now, thievery is not okay, let’s be real here, and she really should have remembered to credit, but the problem most of the community has is how this entire process was handled, which was (sad to say) not like a decent adult. Let’s talk about that:  As an ADULT, it is commonly expected that when you have a problem with someone, you need to go to that person face to face and discuss your problems with them. Children and cowards talk to other people about their issues with others. In the words of Eleonor Roosevelt:  “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” 

Itsbrandysims did not do this. He claims to have reached her out via one method but did not try any others. This is simply ludicrous. If a student of mine said “Ma’am, I had a problem with the grade you gave me, and I tried to stop by your classroom but you were never there.” I’d be raising my eyebrow. I have a phone. I have an email. I have other coworkers who can talk to me. You could have left a note. It is well known that Shelly had a patreon, discord, tumblr, and lots of friends that could get in contact with her (including the friend that outed where they got the mesh to itsbrandysims). There is NO excuse for itsbrandysims to try one method, then immediately move on to calling her out. 

As an ADULT, and a “professional” (which, if you are selling CC for the sims 4, you have a professional image to try to “maintain”), it is expected that if you are going to call someone out for something, you should have a reputation that is above reproach. Well, sad to say, you don’t, sir. Multiple people have commented the fact that your meshes look “eerily similar” to meshes from second life, imvu, and other places around the web, and have commented on your “credit” (or very vague lack thereof). In addition, you lock your CC behind permanent paywalls, which even if EA was fine with (which many indicate it probably would not be), is disgusting to the community. If you look at EA’s terms of service, in section 5: 

When you create content for the sims 4, you give all other users the right to use it, modify it and do other things to it without crediting or paying YOU. The moment you agreed to EA’s terms and created that object for the Sims 4, Shelly had the right to use it and not even blink and credit you. Is it generally expected in this community to credit people when you use their stuff? Yes. Would it have been nice for her to do so? Yes. But was she REQUIRED TO? No. 

If anything, you’re in hot water if you’re using anything from Secondlife...

And Imvu too, oops: 

This is very much akin to when I taught Preschool and a preschool student would come up to me crying saying “Teacher, she stole MY blocks!” When in reality the blocks were owned by the school, and temporarily provided to the students to use. You are literally crying over “blocks” you don’t own and whining to the community instead of dealing with it like an adult. Sheesh. 

Let’s talk about the  “instagram live” which to be honest, was even more of a circus than I expected it would be. When you have a problem with someone, an ADULT and PROFESSIONAL should not have to resort to foul language to express discomfort, discontent, or engage in discourse. Especially when you have a community that you have to be seen in a positive light in. Refusing to answer direct questions, shutting down comments when people didn’t agree with you, telling people multiple times to “suck your *insert male parts here*”, only allowing people that agreed with you to speak via audio, and not even saying the correct name for the person you are accusing was gross and childish. You’re on trial in a community and you decide to insult them? Way to win the “jury” over. If I had a meeting with a parent and my principal was present, and the parent had questions for me concerning my behavior with a student, I would certainly not dodge questions, or insult either person in the room with me by using vulgar language. That is not what an adult and professional does. But then again, I’ve just shown that you are neither.

And last, I’m saving the issue of race for last, because I feel compared to the rest of this, it’s the most sad part. This year, the black community has really come together and uplifted each other. With the various issues in the US being brought to light, one of the things I have enjoyed seeing is how the black community has shown what true brother and sisterhood looks like. They have supported, uplifted, shared, and stood for one another. But you sir, have refused to do that. Instead of uplifting a fellow creator, a black sister, you tore her down. You bullied her. You sent your followers and the public after her. You started a witch-hunt, when you sir, are a warlock yourself.

 She helped fill a very special void that was lacking in the maxis-match community, a need for hairs that represented black people and allowed them to feel they were represented. As an alpha creator, her creations didn’t “threaten” you. You should have felt honored that she was using your content to help empower fellow black players, and make them feel included and represented in a game that has honestly struggled to make them feel included. (The new skintones were wayyyy too late EA.) That alone should have given you a reason to pause and think about OTHER ways to contact her before sending your minions her way.  And with that, I’m getting off my cardboard box and putting it away. I hope Shelly realizes that her creations made a difference to people and comes back refreshed and ready to create again. I hope this helps the community realize how important it is to talk and communicate like adults to each other when problems arise, and I hope that brandysims eventually realizes his faults and comes clean and apologizes

.And perhaps, this might even cause other CC creators to realize that all of their locked paywalls, strict TOUs, and other things really don’t matter in the end, and that the community would be a way better place if we could all just talk, collaborate, share, and work together and support each other instead of arguing over blocks we don’t even own. 

Peace out. 

#itsbrandy #itsbrandysims #secondlife #EA #savvysweet #TW drama #sims4 #sims4mm #sims4cc #brandysims

[eleonorpiteira]

I hear Bluesky is finally open to everyone!

Find me there https://bsky.app/profile/eleonorpiteira.bsky.social 💙

#bluesky #bsky social #bsky #eleonor says stuff #join me under the skies of blue~

[phykios]

honesty and promise me part 6 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Ah, the age old question: what to get for the guy who has everything and also when you’re trying make up for the fact that you actually missed his birthday entirely while spending as little money as possible?

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Percy asks as they wait their turn to disembark. “I haven’t been to Staten Island in ages.”

Annabeth has never been at all. She knows there’s a handful of Greek revival buildings in the Historic District, but she’s never had a car to get there, or the stomach to get on the ferry. Percy had practically climbed onto the bow, his own personal reenactment of Titanic, arms thrown out to the wind, while Annabeth attempted to keep her breakfast down.

Having spectacularly flamed out last week in Philadelphia, she can’t let Percy’s birthday go without some sort of commemoration. The Staten Island Ferry is just part one. “All in due time,” she says, checking her phone for directions. They still have a bus they need to board, and Annabeth is getting sweaty in her leather jacket. Thank God Percy volunteered to carry the backpack with all their gear; otherwise, when this jacket comes off, it’s going to smell worse than his tights at the end of a long day.

Like a magnet, his gaze is glued to the strips of the bay he can spot through the bus windows, his head resting on his chin, a soft, serene smile lifting his lips. All the tightness, all the stress he’s held in his shoulders the last few times she’s seen him, it melts away at the sharp, salty tang of rust and sea air which suffuses every corner. She doesn’t even mind that he isn’t looking at her. 

Hand in hand, finally, they get off the bus, and walk to the overlook. Slinging the backpack off his shoulder, he sets it down at his feet, eyes fixed on the strip of shoreline which can be seen, even all the way over here. “What is that?” he breathes, shielding his eyes against the glint of the sun on the water.

“That,” says Annabeth, “is the Staten Island ship graveyard.”

Still stewing in her guilt over how she missed his birthday--despite the fact that he didn’t even tell her--Annabeth decided to swallow her pride and ask for help. It took an inordinate number of coffee orders and one instance of her actually getting down on her knees and begging, pleading to their long friendship together and swearing that Annabeth would never use this information for evil, but she had finally wheedled the secret out of Thalia: Percy’s greatest love, after the ballet, was sailing. Ship construction, naval battles, maritime history, they were, according to Thalia, the only things which could entice Percy to actually set down the tights and “get some frickin’ sunshine for once in his life.” Annabeth hadn’t believed her, until Thalia had dug up an old photo which had never been posted to his socials--and Annabeth had certainly scoured them for long enough, she would have recognized it had she seen it before--of Percy, on a glittering, jewel-like sea, a rope wrapped around his fist as he leaned over the side of a sailboat, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide in a graceless, unrestrained joy. 

“Back in the eighties, there used to be over four hundred ships down there,” Annabeth says, coming up beside him. “A lot of it’s been scrapped or sold, but there are still maybe a hundred or so boats, including the USS PC-1264, one of the--”

“One of the two predominantly African American crewed Navy ships from World War II,” he interrupts, eyes light. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Annabeth grins, unzipping her jacket. The midday sun beats down on them, the air sticky and heavy, and she needs this thing off, pronto. “And, there’s a ship that was supposedly the command post for the General Slocum disaster.” Not that she really knows what that is.

He whirls around. “The Abram S. Hewitt is there? Holy sh--”

His jaw drops. His eyes bug out. 

Part two of his present was the ship graveyard. Part three is the outfit.

Annabeth, one hand on her hip, slings her jacket over her shoulder with the other, the leather hot against her bare skin. She has chosen to forgo a shirt entirely, wearing nothing but her nicest pair of black jeans with the thick suspenders and a shiny, red bra. And yes, she had Thalia touch up her hair, five inches of curls lopped off on one side, undercut sharp and severe. 

“I thought we could have a picnic here,” she says, a smile curling her lips without her permission. “Then, if you want, we could do some light trespassing? See the ships up close?”

Percy swallows. He breathes in through his nose, shuddering. “Sure,” he whispers, hoarse. “Sounds good.”

Dropping to the ground like a rock, studiously not checking her out, Percy unpacks their picnic, laying out the blanket, something blue, old, but soft Annabeth had knitted in a fit of pre-finals’ anxiety in college. Annabeth had hinted the night before that he should make them some food, as no one could make a grilled cheese like Percy, and she sure as shit wasn’t going to buy them some prepackaged, tasteless garbage. 

Percy’s sandwiches, just like the man himself, are stacked: thick, sourdough slices (which she suspects he made himself), bacon, turkey, apple, tomato, lettuce, avocado, mayo for her but none for him. She’d always been under the impression that dancers needed to watch what they ate, endlessly in pursuit of some unattainable ideal of beauty. Nope. Percy eats everything and anything he can get his hands on, high carb and high protein and high everything else. It makes sense, she guesses, for someone who basically has to bench their own body weight daily. Every inch of him is tailored for power and velocity, to propel him out of the grasp of gravity--rabbit food just isn’t going to cut it here. 

Munching down, he maneuvers himself into a number of splits and stretches, unable to give up his routine for a single day. “When I was probably thirteen or fourteen,” he says, halfway through a tirade of reminiscence, “my dad took me and Triton and Kym to Cyprus, for some family bonding time.” He rolls his eyes. “You can probably imagine how well that went. Most of that trip was… well, Cyprus was definitely the best part. We went to Kyrenia Castle, which has this amazing museum that holds one of the oldest known ships in the world. Like, this thing was operational during the lifetime of Alexander the Great, and it sank about a mile away from the harbor.” He takes a heroic bite, chewing with his lips firmly shut.

“Cool.”

He swallows. “Very cool. I love really old ships, but you can imagine how few of those are still left, and not just because we haven’t found them.”

Annabeth feels her neck heating up, despite the shade they sit in. “Well, I hope these ones are old enough for you.”

“Oh, these are incredible--don’t get me wrong! I had no idea there was anything like this so close to home. Who needs Cyprus when you have Staten Island?” He grins, placing his sandwich down, throwing his arms in a stretch.

“I know it isn’t Tokyo or Moscow or anything…” she trails off, self-conscious even as she doesn’t actually ask the question that’s on her mind. 

Shamefully, she has found that she still thinks about what Will had said at his apartment over a month ago at this point: Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous. But if she actually asks, it will make her look like some totally jealous girlfriend or something, like she honestly cares about Percy’s past sexual conquests.

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t. 

He’s just led a really interesting life, and she wishes she could relate. That’s all. 

“It’s not,” he agrees, bending his back with an audible pop. “It’s better.” 

“Really? A little ship graveyard is better than the sites of Tokyo?”

“I didn’t see any sites in Tokyo,” he said. “Mostly just Mittie’s hotel room.”

“Mittie?”

Percy looks at his sandwich, suddenly very interested in the crust. 

“She’s someone important, then?” 

Silence. 

Annabeth laughs to break the tension. “Okay, I'll bite--who’s Mittie? Another model?” 

Taking a small bite of sandwich, he chews, methodical and deliberate. He swallows, clearing his throat. “Margherita Savoy.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Who?”

“Princess Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia.” 

Her mouth drops open a little. “A princess?”

Percy shrugs. “Technically. The throne of Sardinia doesn’t exist anymore, obviously, but she’s big into the money and the titles and stuff.”

A princess. A fucking princess. “But she lets you call her Mittie.”

He looks a little constipated. “She didn’t… until she took me to Tokyo.” 

“Oh,” she says. Because what else is there to say? She’s certainly no princess. 

“She was nice,” Percy says, softly. “You know, eventually. Once we got to know each other.”

Her phone is hot in her pocket, like it’s preemptively searching Google for pictures of Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia, downloading them all so Annabeth can scribble all over her face like a bad high school movie. “A pretender?” She scoffs, exaggeratedly, her fists tight against the grass. “Talk to me when you get a real princess.” 

His ears go red. “Um…” 

No way. “No fucking way.”

“Look, Eugenie was just kinda pissed when Triton broke up with her, and so she just thought that we’d have some fun.” 

“Oh my god.” She says, looking at him in something like horror. And telling herself at least it wasn’t her distant cousin Madeleine. 

“It was only for like a week or two,” Percy protests. “We went to a club in Berlin she knew Triton liked to go to so he would see us and get annoyed.” 

“A princess dated you because she was pissed at your brother?”

“Only twice,” he says, casual, like any of this is normal and not absolutely insane. “Eleonore is one of Kym’s friends. And she’s technically, like, an archduchess, not a princess. But I don’t know. A couple of his other girlfriends wanted to get back at him, and I was in Europe and available, so we just…” He trails off. She can hear the ellipsis, hanging hot and heavy over them, each dot dropping like a stone. What is this, fucking Mamma Mia? 

“When was the last time this happened?” she asks, not really wanting to hear the answer.

He rubs a hand over his mouth, gaze unfocused as he thinks. “Um… not since the week after Frank left, I think. Mittie wanted to go to Bora Bora but she didn’t want to go alone, you know?” 

“No, I meant,” she pushes through as her stomach flutters, tight and uncomfortable, “girls using you to get back at your brother.” 

His face falls, just a bit. “Oh. Last year, I guess.”

“Who was she?” And where is she so Annabeth can punt her off a building?

“Calypso Atlas.” He sighs, wistful, with more reverence than he had given any of the princesses, and Annabeth’s stomach flops, different from the flutter. Painful this time. “She actually liked me.” 

“Everyone likes you,” she says, faintly. Maybe wearing the leather jacket is giving her heatstroke.

“You know, they really don’t. Not how it counts, anyway.” He picks at a blade of grass, rubbing it between his fingers. “Most of the girls who wanted to use me to get back at Triton only did it because they knew how much he liked to bitch about me--the ‘half-breed bastard.’” He rolls his eyes, huffs a laugh. “And even Kym’s friends didn’t actually like me. Like, yeah, they’d fly me all over with them, but they didn’t want to be seen with me. Mittie and I were on and off for years, and she gets photographed constantly. I’m not in any of them.”

Annabeth thinks she might actually be sick. 

But he doesn’t stop. “It wasn’t so bad when they went around saying that I was a dancer with the Paris Opera, because I was, and I was proud of it. But it wasn’t… I don’t know. It wasn’t like with Frank, whose family does have a ton of money, but who only ever dated me because he liked me.” He picks another blade of grass, tearing it between his fingers. “Calypso, though. She was different.” And he smiles, a little.

“How?”

That smile grows wider. “She just called me one day, out of the blue, and very publicly asked me to be her date to Milan Fashion Week after she and Triton broke up and he immediately turned around and got engaged. She was super up front about it, didn’t try to sleep with me or anything, even though I know she was friends with some people and probably heard about my various talents.” 

She knows exactly which talents he means. He winks at Annabeth, ironic and self-conscious, and she forces out a little laugh, as though the idea of him going down on someone else is charming. 

“But then we actually had a good time together, and a few weeks later, she called me up again, and again, and again, until eventually she introduced me to her father--which was a hell of an experience, let me tell you. The Atlas family puts the Olympianides family to shame as far as dysfunction goes. But it was nice, in its own way; if I’d ever asked Mittie to introduce me to her dad, she’d have laughed in my face.” 

“Sounds like you were pretty serious,” Annabeth manages.

“That was the problem.” He looks away, towards the sea. Always towards the sea. “She wanted to leave Paris, travel the world. And she wanted me to go with her.” 

“To leave the Paris Opera?”

“To leave ballet entirely. I just…” He holds the silence for a moment, lost in the fog of reminiscence, the mist of possible futures long since dissipated. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it. So, in March, she went to Dubai, and I started making calls back to New York.”

“You broke up with her this year?”

“She broke up with me,” he clarifies, turning back to her. “It was all very romantic. I always left my comp at the box office for her. She didn’t come to my show, but she showed up at the stage door the day before she was set to leave, telling me that she had an extra ticket with my name on it. I turned her down.” And then he looks her in the eye as he says, “I don’t regret it at all.” 

She swallows, her face flushing, tongue numb as she searches desperately for something to say to that. “Atlas, you said her family was? It sounds familiar.” 

“Oh, you’re probably thinking of Zoe Atlas,” Percy says, easing off for the moment. “You probably know about her because she and Thalia were archenemies in boarding school. Or maybe girlfriends? I have yet to get a straight answer.” Annabeth’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. Thalia, in boarding school? What? “But I like Zoe. She’s an activist, and absolutely hates her father. Like I said, there’s a lot of dysfunction. And she came to my first show way back when, and she wasn’t even weird when I dated her sister when we ran into each other in Paris. So that was nice.” 

“She went to your first show?” What in God’s name is up with these one-percenter families? It’s like they all overlap in one big incestuous slurry. And as the daughter of the Chases and the Pallases, she tries not to think where she might fit into that. 

“Thalia brought her. Her first not-date. It was Thalia’s first ballet ever, too. It… it meant a lot.”

“What show was it?”

He smiles, wistful. “The Nutcracker. I was one of the kids at Clara’s party. Most scared I’ve ever been. When I got out backstage after intermission, Thalia was waiting for me with my mom. She punched my shoulder, called me ‘Kelp Head,’ and told me I did great. Then I hugged her,” he says, snickering. “She punched me again.”

Annabeth laughs, huffing through her nose. “Good to see some things never change.”

“That’s our Thalia for you--looking out for everyone, even when it kills her inside.” He glances at her pointedly.

It’s her turn to share. 

Annabeth’s mouth is dry, like sandpaper.

She grabs her backpack, pulling out a sketchbook and a pencil. Beside her, Percy sighs, deflating a little.

Annabeth flips open a new page, and starts drawing. 

Each sketch delivers a challenge: bringing order to the whole through design, composition, tension, balance, light and harmony. Sometimes, buildings spring to life on the page, fully formed. Sometimes the page stays blank, an empty pencil.

Pencil to paper. Letting whatever wants to come out, come out. “My mom invited me to lunch one day,” she says. Her eyes follow the line of her pencil, ninety degree angles and symmetrical shapes. “I had moved to New York like six months before. Single girl, in the big city, to follow her dreams.” She’d gone to boarding school in New York before that, but it wasn’t the same as picking out her apartment and taking the train to the Manhattan skyscraper her office was held in. Sometimes she’d walk down the street, feeling like she was smack dab in the middle of Sex and the City, which she and Piper use to watch in secret, huddled under the covers in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. “Unfortunately, my mom didn’t love my dreams.”

“She didn’t approve of anarchist architecture?”

Annabeth’s laugh is hollow. “She thought I should have been charting some new path in business for a woman. But not in a feminist way. In, like, a capitalist way. But architecture was not really negotiable for me. And once that became clear, she had her own expectations about that, too.” 

Annabeth has always been a prideful know-it-all. If all her mother had wanted from her was ambition, they probably could have made it work. Annabeth wanted to reshape the skyline, she wanted her name on buildings that would last and impress. 

But even Annabeth couldn’t do that in six months. 

“She wanted the best schools, the best companies, the best projects.” She sighs. “I was lucky to find a job in New York that wasn’t just carrying coffee.” She had gotten a bigger offer from a more well-known firm where she had interned one summer, but it had been for an assistantship, heavy on the assistant. Her eventual Junior Architect label hadn’t been great, but it had been something, being a rising star at a smaller firm. It seemed like a good fit. “I did not make my mother proud. I… she lived in New York, and I lived with my dad all over.” 

Percy frowns. “Your mom didn’t have custody of you?”

“My mom didn’t want custody of me,” she laughs, bitter. God, it feels weird to tell someone else this. Piper and Leo and Luke knew, obviously, but they had witnessed it all firsthand. Telling someone else, out of the blue… Well, Percy had divulged his tragic backstory without complaint. It’s only fair that she does as well. “I mean, my dad didn’t either. But when it became clear my mom wasn’t an option, well, there we were. He stepped up as best he could. That wasn’t always a lot, but when compared to my mother, he seems like a perfectly involved parent.” 

“Are you trying to make my parental situation seem more reasonable?” 

“Is it working?”

“If you ever meet my dad, we can compare notes.” He shudders at the thought, playfully. “So, what happened with your mom?”

“She made her displeasure known.” Annabeth sighs again, shading a corner. “I mean, she’s always made her displeasure known. I wasn’t getting good enough grades, I wasn’t in the right activities, I wasn’t going to get into the right school, yadda yadda yadda. But for a long time… I don’t know, it at least seemed like she was worried about me.” She thinks of the Eta party, of the man in the brown suit, tutting about Athena Pallas’s druggie daughter, and scowls. “My mother has always had an all or nothing outlook. If I wasn’t the best, I might as well be nothing. But the thing was, this time I thought I was making real progress. And when she invited me to lunch after six months in the same city, I thought she would see that.” 

She had not. Because to Athena Pallas, having a daughter who was an architect instead of an executive Vice-President on her way to CEO, having a daughter at a small but growing architecture firm instead of the best one in the country, was like having a daughter who was drunk in a gutter somewhere. 

And Annabeth had realized as much that lunch. 

All her work was never going to earn her mother’s love.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure what work had been her’s and what had been her mother’s ambitions. 

She’d started crying. In the cafe and right now, on Staten Island, with Percy. “I’m sorry,” she sniffs, wiping her nose on her arm. “Wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He reaches over and wraps an arm around her, gently, rubbing her shoulder, and she more or less crumples into his side. “It’s fine. Take your time.”

Her arm, still free, keeps moving. The drawing takes a shape that she can’t quite name yet. A tree, maybe, in a box. A window to another world, possibly. She spills tears on the paper.

“She disowned me.” Her thin line trembles, before righting itself. “I ran out of there. I stumbled into the first tattoo parlor that didn’t smell like piss, and got my owl done.” She brandishes her left arm, the grey shape blurry and faded against her elbow. She had had a stuffed owl as a little girl, her protector against the spiders in the closet. “I cut off my hair, got my eyebrow pierced, found a club, and just… had a rough couple of days. Got really really drunk that night.” Like, too drunk. Crying on the floor of a filthy bathroom drunk. “Thalia found me under the bathroom sink, took me back to her place, helped me kick the hangover the next day, and that was that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Annabeth says. And most of the time, she isn’t. She wipes her eyes, smudged makeup getting smudger.

“Your mom sounds like she sucks.”

“She does.”

“What about your dad?”

She sniffs. “What about him?”

“You just haven’t really mentioned him. What’s he like?”

Shrugging, she wipes a tear from her cheek. “He’s a history professor.”

“And?”

“That’s about it.”

“I mean, do you like him?”

She shrugs again. “Sure.” There was a lot to like about Frederick Chase. “I haven’t really spoken to him in a while.”

Mouth in a sympathetic twist, he brushes the curls from her eyes, a gesture so sweet it makes her heart pound. “You should call him,” he says. “I’m sure he misses you.”

Her phone burns in her pocket, heavy with the weight of unread texts. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to change the subject?” he asks.

“Please,” she blurts out, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “God, please. Let’s go back to your cute backstory. Tell me more about your first ballet. I want to hear all about the time you were in the Nutcracker.”

Percy fishes out a napkin from somewhere, handing it to her. Grateful, she blows her nose into it, wet and disgusting. “I hate to tell you this,” he says, “But I have been in the Nutcracker, like, fifteen times.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he nods, “It's the big moneymaker. Have you ever seen it?”

“It's a holiday classic,” she scoffs, a little wetly. “Of course I’ve seen it.”

He snorts. “Like, for real, or the recorded one they play on Netflix with Macaulay Culkin?” 

“I've seen it live! My dad lived in San Francisco when I was in high school. They have a fancy ballet there.” She’d seen it as a little kid in NYC, she thought, too. Maybe when her parents were still married, or her mother was still willing to take her for Christmas. 

“Would you be willing to see it again?”

“Like, for real,” she parrots back at him, “or the recorded one they play on Netflix?”

“Ha ha. I mean for real.”

“I mean… maybe if they switched things up a bit.” 

“It's a classic!” He protests. “I mean, it isn’t like we do the Balanchine everywhere, every time. But… it's a classic.” 

“I’m sure the dancing is fine.” Annabeth says. She remembers going with Luke in Boston and thinking it was nice, but also hoping Luke would kiss her at the end of the night, so she hadn’t really paid attention. “But they get to design a land of magic and sweets and fairies, and every time the costumes and the sets are just, like, pink glitter and white gauze mixed with weird racial stereotypes. There’s no imagination.” 

“Well, okay then.” There’s something in his smile, in the turn of his head that she can’t quite identify. “What would you do?” he challenges.

She holds his gaze for a moment, looking into those eyes that almost reflect the color of the sea around them. Her eyes feel a little puffy still, but he doesn’t look away. Then, without breaking away, she flips open a new page in her sketchbook. 

“Space,” she says. “It needs space.”

“Outer?”

“Negative. Lots of space for dancers to move around.” Her pencil scratches over the paper, familiar blocky shapes springing to life. Doric fluted columns split the wings, because of course. “It’s Christmas, so we want color: no sterile, snowy landscape. We know it’s all frozen over--we don’t need to see it again. Obligatory Christmas tree here,” she sketches a crude triangle off to one side, approximately along the golden ratio, “and a big fireplace in the center, preferably a functional one.”

“You know there was this dancer in the nineteenth century that died because her costume caught fire, yeah?”

Annabeth tilts her head, capitulating. “Fair point. We’ll raise it up on a pedestal, keep it out of the way.” She draws a little platform beneath it. “But color is key.” Up above, she draws a pediment crowning the proscenium. She scribbles in the empty space, a placeholder. “Everyone knows the story, so you lay it out up here, episodes merging into each other from start to finish.”

Percy peers down at her page, his chin perilously close to resting on her shoulder. She can’t draw like that. “Kind of reminds me of the Parthenon.”

“You’ve been?”

He nods, his hair tickling the side of her face. “Couple of times. I thought you said you wanted color, though. The Parthenon’s all white, isn’t it?”

“Not originally,” she says. “Do they not explain that on the tours?” 

“Um…” Sheepish, he looks away. “I, uh, I’m not always great at listening.”

God. It’s so endearing. What the hell. She kisses him on the cheek, enjoying the way he flushes lightly. “Me either.” He is so fucking handsome. “But no, the original Parthenon, all those white statues, they were painted. Ergo, color.” 

He blinks, momentarily stunned. “Wouldn’t--uh, wouldn’t that distract from the dancers? People would just be staring at the ceiling.”

“Then… it’s only lit up before and after the show. During the show, you turn the lights down, bring the focus back down onto the stage.” She considered it. Something she’d worked on for a production once, a fashion show Piper had done at Pratt. “Or, you set it up so the colors are mostly lights. Lights that shine through during the snowflake dance and when Clara rides off with the prince. But then you also get the white for the frosted look. But, they’re still too pink, so I don’t think some color variety is bad.”

“So, not to kill your vibe,” Percy says, pulling back a bit, “but I gotta say, I don’t see how this is that different from the billion other Nutcrackers out there.”

She glares, lips pursed. He’s trying so hard not to laugh. Dick. “The set is only half the problem,” she says. “You'd need to redesign the costumes, too.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you come see my show in December, and then you can tell me all about how you’d fix it.”

“Me and every tourist in New York at Christmas time?”

He nods, like he was expecting it. “Then come to my current one. September isn’t Christmas, so it’ll be a lot less crowded.”

“I don’t know,” she grimaces, sketching a star in the corner of the page. “I don’t really think I’d fit--'' Fit in with those people like the ones from the Eta awards, who thought not being her mother’s lackey was the same as being in rehab.

“Annabeth.” Percy takes her drawing hand, lifting it off the page entirely. The pencil is caught between them, an ineffectual barrier to the sweet, rubbing thumb on the mound of her palm. “I want you to come to my show. I’ll leave you a ticket. No one will care what you look like, I promise.” He stares at her, baby seal eyes in full effect.

Fuck.

“As long as you leave me a ticket,” she says, weakly. “I mean, I wouldn’t be able to afford a good seat.” The lie slips out, easy as anything. She can’t help it.

He smiles, soft and warm and way too inviting. “And in the meantime,” he says, softly, you can come with me tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m going to my parents’ for dinner. It’ll be just my mom, Paul, and my sister. They’d love to meet you.”

“I can’t,” she replies, immediately, almost without thinking. “I’ve got--I’ve got work to do.”

She doesn’t. But boys don’t bring girls like Annabeth home anymore. She isn’t meant to settle down. She’s meant for grimy bars and ship yards. She'll leave it to the princesses to be brought home.

He deflates, just the slightest bit. If she hadn’t had so much up and personal time with his naked chest and the movement of his shoulders, she probably would have missed it. “Maybe next time, then?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, not entirely certain if she means to follow through. “Maybe next time.”

#ballet au #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #byima #uhhh whoever else #my fic #pjo fic #look at them having a real conversation and then immediately blowing it

[oldfritz]

I'm genuinely curious and don't want to start something! Just wanted to ask what you make of the 'Old Fritz might've been asexual' take, I don't know much about him and I feel you're one of the best people to ask esp since you lean towards 'he was probably queer in some way' too

Hey there! So, first off, don’t ever worry about me interpreting you asking me a question as starting something. As much as I love making dumb jokes about the guy, I love nothing more than doing this kind of stuff and defending or explaining my points. There’s two degrees I want to get over the next decade: first my JD and then my MA in Prussian history. I live for this stuff! Always have! Second off, I’m very sorry for not getting to this sooner. Things have been incredibly stressful for me for a variety of different reasons which have made answering your question, until now, rather difficult. Putting this under a cut because, holy shit, it got long!

My personal reasoning for why I think he’s bi (which, correct me if I’m wrong, I’m assuming is what you meant instead of ace and could be a different post entirely since some historians have tried to argue that) stems more to do with some of my lingering questions about the nature of his relationships with certain woman, rather than that of his relationships with men. To me and my modern, queer eye, Fritz’s relationships with men like Hans Hermann von Katte, Francisco Algarotti, Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, and (much to my personal vexation) one Monsieur Voltaire are either outright homosexual/homoerotic in nature or very, very easily lend themselves to that interpretation rather than strictly romantic friendships (which Wikipedia does a fairly good overview of and, if you’re coming to me from AmRev perspective, uses Hamilton and Laurens’ relationship as a familiar example). While I’m avoiding those relationships in this ask, I’d be more than happy to elaborate upon one/all of them in a different one. 

Before I go into the big pauses that Fritz’s relationships with Madame von Wreech and Countess Orzelska give me, I want to deny the use of Fritz’s wife as an example of Fritz’s attraction to woman. While this, admittedly, may sound odd, we have ample evidence of how turned off and repulsed Fritz found Elisabeth Christine. Before he had even met her, Fritz was complaining about how she was ‘not very pretty, speaks but little, and acts like a blockhead’ (Asprey, 87) and, later, admitted to Grumbkow his plan to ‘keep my word,...get married, but afterwards it will be a case of that is that, and goodbye, Madame, and fare thee well’ (Jones, 52). For Christ’s sake, the man pitied her knowing how his treatment would leave her as ‘one more unhappy princess in the world’! Which is little consolation when you remember he also referred to her with such romantic terms as ‘this unpleasant creature,’ ‘the abominable object of my desires,’ ‘the person,’ and claimed to have preferred to marry ‘the biggest whore in Berlin’ (Asprey, 87). And while we (fortunately? unfortunately?) know quite a bit about their sex life, Fritz largely regarded it as just another duty - to quote him, ‘I will only have the duty to fuck’ (Ibid, 87). And while Seckendorf heard - first, presumably from Count von der Schulenburg and, later on, Count Friedrich von Wartensleben, a close and intimate friend of the then-crown prince - that Fritz would ‘fuck and refuck’ Elisabeth Christine and that said act occurred in the afternoon, it still was out of a sense of obligation (Bely, 481-2). When reminded that if he wanted more money for frivolities, he’d need to produce an heir, Fritz bemoaned that he ‘cannot sleep with my wife out of desire, and when I do sleep with her, I do it out of duty rather than inclination’ (Clark, 50). All this in accumulation, as well as the myriad of other quotes and incidents I’ve left out, makes one wonder why his relationship with Elisabeth Christine is sometimes used by historians to prove any sort of heterosexual impulse in the man when she’s the woman with the weakest supports for that argument.

That being said, now we get to the women with a more muddled places in his romantic escapades, if you will. What exactly happened between Orzelska and Fritz during his trip with his father to Dresden in 1728? The main source for everything that occurred during this trip is Wilhelmina, who didn’t attend and without anything about this specific incident coming from Fritz or Friedrich Wilhelm I, make it rather hard to use as concrete, irrefutable proof. Now, if her recollections were contemporaneous - like coming from a diary or journal she kept at the time - that would be one thing. But it comes from her memoirs which, while a delightful read 10/10 recommend, are written decades after this trip took place and, memory being a finicky thing, can’t be taken to the bank. All those disclaimers, here’s the story as told by her:

‘One evening...,the King of Poland [note: Augustus II] insensibly led the King of Prussia to a very richly decorated room...The King of Prussia, delighted with what he saw, stopped to contemplate all its beauties, when [all of] a sudden a tapestry was rolled up, which procured him a very novel sight. It was a lovely female in a state of nudity [note: Countess Orzelska, the Polish king’s daughter], carelessly reclined on a couch. Her beauty excelled that of the finest pictures of Venus and the Graces; her body seemed of ivory, whiter than snow, and better shaped than that of the Venus de Medicis at Florence.

...Scarcely had the King cast his eyes on the fair one, than he turned about with indignation; and seeing my brother behind him, he rudely pushed him out of the room, and left it immediately after in a violent irritation against the trickery they had attempted to practice on him. ...In spite of the King’s vigilance, [Frederick] had had time to contemplate the Venus of the closet, who did not cause him so much horror as she had done to his father. (Wilhelmina’s Memoirs, vol. 1, 107-6)

Wilhelmina then goes on to claim Fritz had fallen ‘passionately in love’ with Orzelska and that the illness Fritz experienced upon returning home was simply being lovesick. Pinning the accuracy of this story is incredibly difficult because, again, we have only one source relayed decades after the fact and from two volumes of memoirs known to have inaccuracies. While I, personally, would love if he had had a tryst with Orzelska (who is such a badass in her own right and deserves more recognition than as a footnote in this guy’s story), there’s no one way to say with more than 30% confidence. I am inclined to believe something along these lines happened because if someone told me a story like this, lord knows I wouldn’t forget it for the rest of my life. And, with Wilhelmina being so close with her brother, it lends a bit more credence but as to the actual emotional or physical response Fritz had to it, well, without my time machine, I can’t and don’t want to say.

With Madame Eleonore-Louise von Wreech, things are a little more concrete. For starters, Fritz actually talked about her! In written correspondence that survived! We even have seven letters between the two of them that survived, which is a bigger win! As Blanning says, they’re ‘ardent but light in tone, ironic, almost flippant, and highly stylized’ (Blanning, 58). Their relationship was known to those close with Fritz at the time that Schulenberg felt compelled to visit and warn the crown prince against devoting himself to women because ‘the slight pleasures gained cause a million displeasures.’  Fritz’s response? To tell the poor guy that he may have ‘the gift of continence, but I assure you that I do not’ (Asprey, 83-4). Firtz even went so far as to send a letter to her mother, waxing poetic about Louise’s ‘beauty, her majestic air, her bearing, and her entire department.’ It’s worth noting that Louise eventually broke off the affair due to being bored by how he ‘loved [her] too much and often annoyed [her] with his clumsy love’ (Ibid, 84). Contemporaries, including Friedrich Wilhelm, believed Fritz had impregnated her with a daughter who her ‘cuckolded husband would refuse to recognize’ (Blanning, 58). Blanning is the only source I’ve seen dispute this due to this news coming from Seckendorf, who didn’t reveal how he came about this information; that Fritz and Madame von Wreech’s correspondence doesn’t indicate a physical relationship; and on the fact that she was not pregnant. I haven’t been able to find the birth dates or any sort of records for Louise’s two daughters to figure out where their conception could’ve been in the timeline and if it matches with the likely dates for the affair, but I also don’t have the resources Cambridge would afford Blanning. Either way, while the physical nature of the affair is in dispute, the emotional aspect certainly was there. Especially when taking into consideration the fact that she’s the woman Fritz was likely referring to in the 16 August 1737 letter to Voltaire where he claimed she had taught him how to love (and also inspired him to write poetry, which we shouldn’t be thankful for). Specifically, all these years later, he stated how ‘this little miracle of nature possessed every possible charm, together with good taste and delicacy. She sought to transfer these qualities to me. I succeeded well in love but poorly in poetry. Since that time I have very often been in love and have always been a poet’ (Fritz’s Oeuvres, vol. 21, 96).

All this to say, there’s a bit too much evidence of some degree of opposite-gender attraction in Fritz to completely write off the possibility that he could’ve been bisexual. While it’s undeniable he held a preference for men and that’s whose company he typically enjoyed, I still do find it interesting the two exceptions (one potential and the other with a fair degree of certainty) to this. And, while I would never want his attraction to men be minimized in favor of that to women, it still remains important to note to get the most comprehensive picture of the man.

#frederick the great #elisabeth christine #countess orzelska #madame von wreech #asks #anonymous

[allgarbo]

So ive been reading this book, the girls sappho goes to hollywood, and i can't help but think that the writer is somewhat biased towards Garbo? I am in the middle of it and the writer seems to point out always three things, how Garbo was mistreating Mercedes, how Salka was scheming against of their relationship and how every actress wanted to get into Garbo's pants (the only believable thing in this book lol). I mean, people wouldn't just leave her at peace, Jesus. Have you read the book? It also makes a wild assumption of Greta's and Marlene's encounter, it is pretty bonkers. Of course, if you know anything else about the two of them together, please share your info, i will gladly appreciate it

you're absolutely right! i have never been able to read this book precisely because i think the same thing as you. it's totally biased. i think the book is interesting when you're looking for gossip and trivia but to be honest a lot of the stuff that diana mclellan said was made up. about garbo's relationship with mercedes is a very complicated subject. it was a relationship that started very well and ended very badly. mercedes' personality was not so easy to deal with and as we already know, garbo also had her issues. i don't believe this information about salka. what i remember about salka talking about garbo's relationship with mercedes was after mercedes released "here lies the heart", saying that everything mercedes said in the book was a lie. about marlene, i love to joke that marlene lied about never meeting garbo but we don't really know if they ever met. in an orson welles biography he says he introduced marlene to garbo at a party but we don't have evidence like photos, videos... (i don't know why he would lie about that but okay).

the story of how they met according to orson welles:  “(...) Marlene was the Welleses' houseguest in the big house on Carmelina Drive, and she asked Orson to introduce her to Greta Garbo. When Dietrich began to be popular in Germany in the '20s, the press often compared her with Garbo. Orson recalls that Marlene absolutely ''worshiped" Garbo but had never found herself in a room with her. So he arranged for the actor Clifton Webb (who always entertained with his mother) to give a party to which they would invite Garbo, and to which Marlene would come with Orson so that the pair could meet ''inadvertently." (...) Orson and Marlene were already at Clifton Webb's party when Garbo arrived. It was only natural that Orson would take Marlene over to meet her. But when Dietrich complimented her peer by comparing her to a goddess, Garbo uttered nothing more than a polite thank you. Initially undaunted, Marlene kept praising Garbo, who persisted in saying thank you, over and over. That was the extent of their meeting, which ended finally when Marlene gave up earnestly trying to engage Garbo in conversation. On the way back to Carmelina Drive afterward, Marlene did not say a word until suddenly she turned to Orson to pronounce: ''Her feet aren't as big as they say!" Back home, a few drinks seemed appropriate, and Marlene got going on her subject. "They say, no makeup!" Orson remembers her having exclaimed. "She has beaded eyelashes! Do you know how long it takes to have your eyelashes beaded?" lol (source: orson welles - a biography by barbara leaming) there's also this one: “During his touring days in The Barretts of Wimpole Street long before, actor Brian Aherne had befriended Garbo. He was now divorced from Joan Fontaine and married to Eleonore de Liagre. The Ahernes lived in Vevey, Switzerland, and visited Garbo from time to time. In July 1964, they took her to supper with Noel Coward, who saw them again a few days later at the Geneva airport: "Brian, Eleonore and Garbo (quivering with neurosis) were on the plane.“ Eleonore once asked Jean Negulesco if he would mind dining with three ladies— the other two being Garbo and Dietrich. "GG complained about the neighbor living in the apartment over hers,” Negulesco recalled. “He was building a new bath. Noise and copper pipes came through her ceiling. Marlene was comparing the rising prices from day to day on fruit and fresh vegetables. Two of the most famous women in the world exchanging banalities and kitchen talk!”  x (source: garbo by barry paris) and that's all i remember about a possible meeting between garbo and dietrich. i bought a biography called garbo: her story by anton gronowicz and didn't need to read more than 10 pages to identify countless lies about her. there's so many opportunists, it's very easy to make up lies about someone like garbo. i’m glad you questioned what you read. 

#ask

[justadram]

I’m on Asoiaf wiki and in a do you know they said “that George R. R. Martin has compared Queen Alysanne Targaryen to Eleanor of Aquitaine” are their many resemblances? I know you disagreed with the cateyln and Eleonor, saying she’s more reminiscent of Cersei. What do you think of this?

I have very little interest in “historical” ASOIAF and haven’t read any of that stuff, so I really have no idea. Sorry, anon!

[robespapier]

I've debated over the pertinence of inflicting this upon y’all, but I figured it could spare some of you reading old stuff in French a shock and lots of confusion, so

I was unaware of this until very recently: but hymen, in French, isn’t just an anatomical term — even though it’s the primary use and the only one I was previously aware of. In poetry in particular, it can be used to mean marriage, as illustrated by the examples below, probably because Hymen is the Greek god of marriage? 

I’m telling you this because I learnt about it while reading Gaston Crémieux’ play 9 Thermidor. Crémieux was a leader of Marseille’s Commune in 1871 and executed for it, dying before he could finish the play (the last scenes were written by his friend Clovis Hughes)

but with all the love and respect I think he deserves (and his play is interesting in many ways!), the scene were Elisabeth says “I know someone who, if his wish is granted, will find in the hymen a well-earned happiness”, meaning to tell Eleonore Robespierre is planing to ask for her hand...It hit me like a fucking train, let me tell you. Same for Eleonore telling Robespierre they could have been happy and “celebrating their hymen”. 

wtf Gaston, couldn’t you just write marriage

So yeah, know this is a thing

#idk how to tag this #gaston crémieux: 9 Thermidor