#what kind of pact did the author make to be able to make art this good

[squipedmew]

hey does anyone remember ava's demon or is it just me going insane here

[radexchangeprogram]

This is a random one but can I request head cannons of the Brothers and Dateables reacting to an MC that’s actually a half demon but was really great at hiding her demon side since she grew up in the human world? They see a demon man just bounding towards MC before the boys could do anything MC’s like “DAD! 😃” before jumping in his arms like a child. Around her Dad she gains fangs and horns like him but she reverts back to normal when she wants to. The boys are like “Why didn’t you say anything?” And she’s like “I’m just used to my human side” or “You never asked 🤷🏾‍♀️”

Of course! I love this idea. I didn’t get a chance to proof read this so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Author’s notes at the end (marked by *s)

Spoiler warning for up to chapter 17 to be safe. Especially with Belphie.

Half Demon GN!MC Headcanons

General

Everyone noticed that you never seemed too bothered by the fact that you were surrounded by demons, but figured you were just rather good at adapting.

This theory was proven wrong at a party Lord Diavolo hosted.

As you chatted with the brothers, a large demon with griffon wings, a lion’s mane, and horns similar to a gazelle began to head in the direction of your group.

The demon, who the others instantly recognized as Duke Vapula, walked up to them with a cheeky grin.

The brothers were instantly on guard, Mammon even growling slightly, as it was extremely uncommon for anyone to approach them so casually.

Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Luke, and Solomon all took notice and were prepared to intervine should something happen.

You turned around to see what the issue was and let out a loud gasp.

“DAD!”

Lucifer

Absolutely dumbfounded. How did he not know about this? He read your files to the point of practically memorizing them before you came here and he swears there was nothing about you being a half demon.

He was honestly a bit embarrassed that he didn’t know about something this major.

When confronting you, all you did was say that it wasn’t that big of a deal and that you figured they already knew.

You really give him a migraine sometimes.

He feels a bit relieved that he doesn’t have to worry as much about you dying, though.

If you wish, he may start teaching you demonic etiquette, such as having you shift form at formal events.

If you prefer your human heritage, he won’t pressure you to conform to your demonic ancestory.

Mammon

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN HIS HUMAN ISN’T ENTIRELY HUMAN?!?

The loudest about his displeasure about not knowing.

“I’m your first man! I’m supposed to know everything about you!”

When you explain to him that you’re more comfortable with your human half, he calms down a little.

Tries to call you ‘stupid half-demon’ but it doesn’t feel the same as ‘stupid human’ :(

You tell him he can just keep calling you ‘stupid human’ :D

Wonders if he can get your dad to pay him for ‘providing his child with such incredible protection’.

You immediately tell him no.

Leviathan

Holy shit this sounds like something straight out of an anime!!!

Very upset that you didn’t tell him, you’re his Henry! You’re supposed to tell him these kind of things!

When you shrug and simply say that no one asked, he gets even more pouty.

You make up with him quickly by offering to play games with him all night.

Extremely curious about your demonic form for the primary purpose of cosplay. Do you know how many more characters you can be if you have a tail or wings?!?

You might inspire some fanfiction. (half demon Henry x Lord of Shadows au slow burn 100k words, def not Leviathan projecting no not at all-)

Satan

He is extremely shocked. Not only did he have no idea, but half demons are extremely rare.

From what he’s read, most half-human half-demon offspring don’t survive past birth and all documented cases that have survived reside in the Devildom so that their powers can be better managed.

He asks you about this and you reply that you’re actually quite good at controlling your powers, but that you prefer living as a normal human.

He’s not upset that you didn’t tell him, but he has a billion questions.

How long is your lifespan? Do you take more after your demonic father or your human mother in terms of power?What are your weaknesses?

He really wants to learn more about human-demon hybrids and will ask you to help in his studies.

Also a bit excited as your father is well known for some for his knowledge and writing about the sciences. He wants to discuss some of it with you, assuming you’ve read what your father has written.*

Asmodeus

Oh he is so excited.

A bit relieved that his charm isn’t wearing off, it just doesn’t work because you’re the child of a demonic duke!

You know those boiling hot springs he talks about visiting? Well he’s happy to learn that you actually can join him without fear of your skin melting off!

He’s not upset that you didn’t tell him, getting mad over stuff like that can cause wrinkles.

He will absolutely want to help you groom your horns/wings/scales/tail.

He already has shown you a lot about demonic fashion trends, such as extra clothing that can be fitted around demonic extremities, but now he actually can actually have you try on some! Do you prefer gold tail bangles or jeweled horn cuffs?

Beelzebub

Relieved that Duke Vapula wasn’t looking for a fight.

He can’t help but smile a little when you hug your dad. It makes him happy that you love your family.

When you blush and tell him that it just slipped your mind to tell everyone about your heritage, he isn’t upset.

Happy that he doesn’t have to be so scared of accidentally hurting you with how strong he is.

If you’re able to safely eat some more demonic food, he will absolutely get you to try some of his favorite foods that normal humans would die upon eating.

Overall, you’re still the MC he has grown to love and doesn’t treat you too differently.

Belphegor

Is now more awake than he has been the entire evening.

Half demon? Nah this is just some dream.

Is understanding when you explain to him that you prefer being human and living as a human.

He’s happy he found out after making amends with you. He used to despise half-demons just as much as normal humans, seeing them as repulsive.

He still very much treats you the same, but is a bit annoyed with his brothers.

With knowledge of your demonic blood coming to light, they drag you out even more often and naps with you are becoming rarer.

If you get too overwhelmed with his brothers constantly wanting to try things they thought would previously kill you, he will be more than happy to lend you some of his hiding spots. He does charge the small fee of getting to take a nap with you though.

Diavolo

Similar to Lucifer, is shocked that he didn’t know before you came to the Devildom.

You aren’t the first half-demon he’s met, but he is surprised that a demon of Duke Vapula’s rank had a child with a human.

He’s actually very excited to learn that you’re a half-demon who is in more in touch with your human side. He feels a lot more relieved that you aren’t as defenseless as previously thought.

He does, however, make absolute sure that you have full control over your demonic powers. Every other half-demon lives in the Devildom for a reason and he can’t have someone who is technically one of his subjects accidentally cause mass destruction.

He invites you for tea more frequently, asking so many questions about how being raised in the human world as a half-demon was.

He likes to exchange stories with you about your younger years and the power fluxes you both struggled with as you grew.

Tells you that should you ever wish to live in the Devildom that he would be more than happy to make the needed arrangements.

Barbatos

He knew the whole time. When Diavolo asked him to look into the success of the program, he made note of your heritage right away.

However, he decided that keeping this information hidden when he saw that you were raised human and preferred to be seen as human.

When he explains this to everyone, you can’t help but feel thankful.

While some of the others make no effort to hide how annoyed this makes them, he doesn’t mind. He knows he made the right choice keeping this from everyone and doesn’t regret it at all.

Barbatos is actually a pretty good friend of your father’s and grew up with him. He actually met you when you were a baby because of this.*

Solomon

He has seen a lot in his years in the world of magic, but nothing like this.

Usually, half-demons were very easy to spot as they struggled to control their powers, but you practically had it down to an art!

You explain to him that you’re actually pretty good at keeping your powers under control. He’s rather impressed by this and will ask to see your spell work.

Thinks it’s a little funny that he has a pact with your dad.*

Like Satan, he wants to know all about you. Unlike Satan, he is going to actually conduct experiments instead of stick to interviews.

He has a new potion that he wants you to try almost every day now.

Can half-demons make pacts? If so, you have now been added to the list of demonic beings he wants to make a pact with.

Simeon

Very surprised considering he’s blessed you before.

Blessings aren’t supposed to work on anything of demonic nature so he’s baffled.

When you explain to him that you were raised human and prefer to live as human, he smiles.

He comes to the conclusion that you being a good person must be greater than the demonic blood in your veins.

He treats you the same overall, knowing that you’re still you no matter your heritage.

Luke

Absolute denial.

There is no way someone as nice as you is part demon! He refuses to believe it!

Gets upset and accuses you of trying to manipulate him, which you quickly deny.

When you explain to him that you prefer being human, he huffs.

Simeon gives him a bit of a talking to, about how you’re still the same MC who he sees as a big sibling.

He bakes you some apology cupcakes for being rude to you.

You sometimes shift form to mess around with him, it never fails to make him let out a shocked yelp before he snaps at you for picking on him.

Everyone (except Luke) thinks it’s funny tbh.

Author’s Notes:

*Duke Vapula is described as being able to bestow knowledge about all science contained in books.

*Barbatos is also a duke in The Goetia. I thought a fun nod to this would be to have them as friends.

*The Goetia talks about the 72 demons that King Solomon evoked. Vapula is one of the demons that he evoked. The game actually references this by talking about his 72 pacts. Asmodeus and Barbatos are both included in the 72 demons which is why he has pacts with both of them in the game :)

[midnightsunnyday]

When With His Father, Diavolo Is A Lot More Stern, The Demon King, On The Other Hand...Part Four (Updated)

Author's Note: thank you all for your patience and continued interest in this series. Maybe slightly NSFW due to cursing and some suggestive dialogue. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five Part Six Part Seven

-----------------

12:25 PM, at the Demon Lord’s Castle

The Demon King: no, not that one. It clashes horribly with his skin tone.

Barbatos: *holds up a black studded collar*

The Demon King: too brutish. It does little to accentuate the delicate curve of his cheek.

Barbatos: *holds up a pink collar with a bow and bell in the center*

The Demon King: ah, it's perfect! And it even matches with their undertone!

Solomon, holding his forehead: 72 pacts and several centuries of learning the arcane arts only to end up as a pet in a frilly collar.

Diavolo: I appreciate you putting up with this Solomon or is it "Lomo" now?

Solomon: *sighs* it seems your father has a talent for choosing outrageously embarrassing pet names.

Diavolo: that he does.

Solomon: however, just to reiterate, this means that you technically owe me a favor.

Diavolo: hopefully one within reason.

Solomon: don't worry. My requests are always within means.

Diavolo: saying that does little to ease my anxiety.

The Demon King: Lomo, come put on your collar so we can prepare for the party.

Diavolo, smirking: yes Lomo, be a good boy and let "Unky Barb" put on your collar.

Solomon: *gets up and reluctantly allows Barbatos to put on their collar*

Barbatos: he looks quite fetching, your Majesty.

The Demon King: that he does. It almost makes up for his unnerving appearance.

__________

2:50 PM

Diavolo: Barbatos I am begging you. Please consider it.

Barbatos: while it pains me to see you so distraught Young Master, I'm not sure whether going back in time to attach a deadbolt that is "blessed by 777 saints" to the basement door is a proper use of my powers, nor would it keep your father from escaping.

Diavolo: please tell me Lucifer at least had the decency to hide the Demonus.

Barbatos: on the contrary, he informed me over text, and I quote, "Tell Didi not to worry about this evening's gathering. I won't allow the Demon King to touch a single bottle of Demonus."

Diavolo, sighing: thank goodness.

Barbatos: "which is why I'm going out to buy several bottles of Demonus. That way he can touch as many as he likes. Anyway, see you all at the party."

*silence*

Diavolo: ...Barb.

Barbatos: yes Young Master?

Diavolo: is there a foreseeable future in which Lucifer falls down a flight of stairs?

Barbatos: one moment *eyes glow briefly* none that I can discern.

Diavolo: Barb.

Barbatos: yes Young Master?

Diavolo: remind me to trip Lucifer down a flight of stairs.

Barbatos: I'll make sure to write it within your upcoming schedule. Oh dear, it seems said action conflicts with "Teatime with Lucifer." Would you like me to set it an hour before?

Diavolo: eh. After is fine.

__________

3:15 PM, at the House of Lamentation

Leviathan, setting the table: can someone explain to me why we're doing this again?

Satan, sweeping: because Lucifer is petty?

Leviathan: obviously, but did everyone forget what happened the last time we threw the Demon King a party?

Mammon, blowing balloons: how could I? If I was human I'd be dead ten times over from the alcohol poisoning alone.

Satan: that's because you challenged him to a drinking contest, which I still can't believe you won.

Mammon: Goldie and me were finally able to take that vacation we always wanted *sighs* Good times.

Leviathan: idiot.

Asmodeus, dusting: well I for one had a wonderful time. Ooh, remember how we had to use several bottles of lotion to get--

Mammon: --oi, don't you dare repeat that story!

Asmodeus: wow, so assertive. Kind of like your--

Mammon: --can it!

__________

3:30 PM

*knock knock knock*

MC: I'm coming...eh? What are you two doing here? The party doesn't start until 6:00.

Simeon: we wanted to be punctual. Also, we brought cupcakes.

Beelzebub: *swoops from the shadows*

Luke: well, we HAD cupcakes.

__________

3:38 PM

Belphegor: great, another party with the Demon King. Why is it when Lucifer's happy, everyone else has to suffer?

Beelzebub, munching on the cupcakes he swiped: he did seem pretty upset at Lord Diavolo yesterday.

Belphegor: so he's actually putting him in his place for once? And here I thought I lost all respect.

Beelzebub: Lord Diavolo didn't seem very happy with his father, either.

Belphegor: of course not. The Demon King is a notorious pain in the ass *scoffs* Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in that department.

Beelzebub: at least Lucifer seems happier today. I accidentally ate all the confetti for the party and he didn't even yell at me.

Belphegor: Beel, how many times do we need to go over this? Just because it looks like food, doesn't mean it's edible.

Beelzebub, frowning: they were so colorful. I thought it might taste like sprinkles.

__________

4:48 PM

Asmodeus: this party is going to be an absolute disaster! Especially if I can't decide on what color romper to wear. I mean, should I go with tickled pink or blushing pink?

Leviathan: there's a difference?

Asmodeus: MC, tell this fashion disaster what I mean.

MC: the tickled pink brings out his eyes, but the blushing pink accentuates the delicate curve of his cheek.

Asmodeus: I know right? *sighs* Sometimes it's so hard being me.

Leviathan: speaking of "fashion," what's with the collar?

MC: Lucifer is making me wear it.

Asmodeus: oooh ~ I never knew you two were so open about your kinks.

Leviathan: wha-wha-what? Is that what this is? Some kind of pet play?

MC: the Demon King tried to abduct me yesterday, so Lucifer is making me pretend to be his pet to keep him away. Though I think he's getting a bit too into it.

Leviathan: do I dare ask?

MC: well...

*a few hours earlier*

MC: no way. Absolutely not!

Lucifer: it's only for tonight. I promise you can remove it once this is over.

MC: I am not wearing that thing around my neck!

Lucifer: I went shopping specifically so that you and...Lomo could match.

MC: wait...Lomo? Oh no, poor Solomon.

Lucifer: indeed. Now then, let's put on your collar.

MC: *reluctantly walks over to Lucifer*

Lucifer: there we go. Oh my.

MC: what? What's wrong?

Lucifer: you do look rather...adorable. I can see why the Demon King is so keen on this human-pet thing.

MC: something tells me his intentions are purer than yours *sighs* The sooner this night ends the quicker I can take this stupid thing off.

Lucifer: indeed. Also, you'll need to practice calling me master. Just for tonight, of course.

MC: ...you can't be serious?

Lucifer: of course. Have I ever been anything less than serious?

MC: Lord forbid.

Lucifer: pardon?

MC: nothing...*rolls eyes* master.

Lucifer: *clutches his chest* oh...oh my. I think I might get used to this. Do you also mind meowing--

MC: --that's it. I'm out.

Lucifer: just once...MC? Don't you walk away from me.

*back to the present*

MC: needless to say, I'm starting to reconsider my options.

Asmodeus: poor thing. I don't know which is hotter: being Lucifer's pet or the Demon King.

Leviathan: don't you mean sadder?

Asmodeus: I know what I said.

[pseudinymous]

Doing Math on the River Styx - 1

Phic Phight / Team Ghost / word count not final

Prompt by Zainymusings:

In an effort to keep Danny from failing out of Casper High and becoming Dan, the ghosts band together to tutor Danny in various subjects (Technus in math, Ghostwriter in Language Arts, etc.) Shenanigans ensue.

Chapter Index: 1 / 2

“I, TECHNUS, GHOST MASTER OF ALL THINGS ELECTRONIC AND BEEPING, COMMAND THE GHOST CHILD TO FIND THE VALUE OF X!”

The Ghostwriter looked vacantly at Technus as if his brains were about to leak out of his ears, and for the first time in his life Danny felt as if he might agree. The three of them had been locked away in this library for all of fifteen minutes and they were already getting on each other’s nerves, but anything to prevent Danny from turning into the dreaded Dan Phantom was worth it. So here they were.

“You can’t just command him to find the value of x, Technus. You actually have to teach,” said the Ghostwriter, somehow keeping his patience. “Not everyone has a way with numbers, you know. He can’t just magic the answer out of thin air.”

Technus stared at him, dumbstruck. “Really? Human children can’t do that?”

“Most people can’t do that,” the Ghostwriter lamented, head within his hands. “Look at him, he’s just staring into that piece of paper as if the world itself is coming to an end. That’s not the look of someone who has clarity on a topic, Nicolai.”

“Fine then, you teach him!”

“Me? Teach math? In what universe? Christ, I’d pass out.”

“Will the both of you just shut up?!” Danny finally yelled, his voice shuddering the non-existent library foundations and sending them both silent. “Maybe I can do this! But we’re never going to find out if you just keep arguing with each other!”

Both ghosts suddenly realised their position in all of this — namely having gotten out of their chairs in the heat of that mildly passionate debate — and retook their seats quickly in their own embarrassment. “Sorry,” muttered the Ghostwriter, quietly. Technus didn’t apologise. What a surprise.

“… So, what part of this equation do you not understand?” said Technus, eventually.

“X,” said Danny, and Writer let out a smirk from the background. “I mean where are you even supposed to get the x from?”

Technus was feeling confident.

“You start with the first part of the equation, then you do the equation in your head, and then you only have x leftover.”

Danny’s head hit the desk. “Are you joking? That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“He’s right, it doesn’t,” said the Ghostwriter, matter-of-factly. Technus glared at him. “If it’s any consolation, I’d like to use my keyboard to bend reality such that he would learn everything he ever needed to know in an instant, but unfortunately he destroyed it last Christmas.”

“Don’t remind me,” Danny moaned. “I can’t take much more of this, I gotta go home.”

Technus wasn’t having a bar of this. “The value of x is 16! 16!” he yelled, as if that would make his point clearer. “See! Now you can do this type of problem! Now you can find the next value of x!!”

Danny stood up from his chair about as calmly as he could manage. “Thanks, but I think I’d rather just learn the normal way from Lancer. I’m—”

“—What about literature?” the Ghostwriter cut in desperately, after watching his afterlife flash before his eyes. “Math might not be your strong point, but there’s more than just one subject.”

Danny looked at Ghostwriter as if he, too, had as much of a hole in his head as Technus. “Really? And are you gonna be any better at this than the Lord of Electricity over here?”

“I’m legitimately qualified to teach. Unlike the Lord of Electricity over there, as you so aptly put it.”

“… What? Seriously?”

“You don’t honestly think I made any money writing novels, do you?” asked the writer, looking a bit too wry for Danny’s liking. “No one does. I would’ve starved without a side job.”

Technus suddenly stood up. “ACTUALLY HE NEVER PUBLISHED ANY NOVELS, HE—”

A book came out of nowhere and smashed heavily into the back of Technus’s head. Danny watched him arc gracefully through the air, face aghast and twisting as he went, before he was gracelessly plastered all over the wooden library floor. The Ghostwriter’s brow was raised. “Oh,” he said. “How did that ever happen?”

“TELEKINESIS ISN’T FAIR GHOSTWRITER.”

“And why not? You’re perfectly capable yourself.”

“YOU KNOW IT’S ONLY ON TECHNOLOGY! BUT WE’RE STUCK IN THIS PLACE WITH ALL OF YOUR THINGS, YOU—”

A book mysteriously slid off its shelf and landed on straight on top of Technus, striking his head a second time. “Oh, it seems after three decades I’m still having accidents, I’m very sorry about this Nicolai.”

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE!” Technus screeched back. Another book struck him. The Ghostwriter grinned in delight.

“Dude, you’re enjoying that way too much,” said Danny eventually, his eyes wide open. “I thought you didn’t like to fight.” “A series of unfortunate events is not a fight,” said the Ghostwriter. He was far too happy about this situation, and he showed it with two long rows of very sharp serrated teeth. “Shall we say, it’s been a long time coming.”

“But can’t he… I dunno, kill you or something?”

The ghost shrugged. “I don’t know. Can he? Or did he accidentally become part of a pact in which he agreed I wouldn’t come to harm, then act like a monumental prat such that I might like to make every book in this god-forsaken library slide off its shelf and hit him? I suppose we’ll never know.”

… Danny refused to unpack any of that. Technus remained unmoving on the floor as if this might be the best course of action while the Ghostwriter simply stood there, apparently contemplating homicide. This was beyond messed up. But what the heck had he expected when he’d agreed to tutoring sessions in the Ghost Zone?

… Ghostwriter kind of had a point about Technus’s math teaching skills, though.

“Now that we have some peace and quiet,” said Writer, whose teeth were clenched on each of those final descriptors and whose gaze was also fixed precisely on Technus, “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to what you need to study in English class.”

Danny breathed. Maybe they could do this. Maybe it was still possible. “Nineteen Eighty-Four,” he said, staring at the sheet of paper in front him, covered in mathematics so poorly executed it was a wonder it didn’t shift the fabric of space on its own. He swapped it quickly for his English book. “I got to sort of skim it at home, but ghosts kept attacking during Lancer’s lectures.”

The ghost sat down again, slowly. “… Orwell? Very well… A bit dry, but that’s fine. They’re after an analysis essay, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” the Ghostwriter began, “Those are reasonably straightforward. All you really have to do is read the question, make something up, and argue it.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “Lancer said we shouldn’t make stuff up.”

“Funny how in an analysis on fiction, the writing of which is the very act of making stuff up, you’re asked not to make anything up at all. No, that’s a misconception. What you actually need to do is pretend you’re the author and lie.”

“Lie?”

“About everything,” said the Ghostwriter sagely, tapping his finger on the desk. “You can’t know for sure what was in the author’s head unless they tell you, which is fine, because it means the English teachers don’t know the difference either.”

The little cogs and gears inside Danny’s brain started to fall into place, but it wasn’t a place they’d ever fallen into before. He felt attacked, almost as if stuck in some kind of weird trap, like his fight or flight reflex should be going off. “… That seems pretty suss, why should I even listen to advice like that?”

Ghostwriter seemed almost bored. “You do realise I have a vested interest in not seeing you going insane and killing everyone?”

“Yeah, that seems kind of bad,” Technus chimed in from the floor.

“Even I’m not vindictive enough the jeopardise my own existence.”

Danny turned from his paper and looked from one ghost to the other. Were they... suddenly more tired? “… So…” he began, slowly. “Did Clockwork put you both up to this?”

Technus finally managed to peel himself away from the floorboards. “Came knocking on both our doors. Said we had to do something so that That Future didn’t happen. It’s like, as if you failing classes is tied up in the cosmos to you becoming a mass murderer or something.”

Great. Fantastic. Passing his classes was the one thing Danny didn’t seem able to do, and that was apparently the tightrope that stopped him from becoming an evil megalomaniac who murders his family members and god knows who else. Perfect. Would’ve been nice if Clockwork could’ve given him a heads up about that one before his grades started slipping into the D- range. He stared at his empty English book page and groaned.

“God,” Danny muttered. “We’ve gotta make this work…”

Chapter Index: 1 / 2

[godrent]

TAGGED BY:  @futureheld  ? TAGGING:  @millenniumpharaoh / @cervivial / @godowned.  godspeed! WARNING:  MENTIONS OF RAPE AND CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE UNDER READ MORE!

►   GENERAL.

HEIGHT:  171 cm (5'6")  —  yami bakura caters to the height he was as thief king bakura, he prefers to maintain the small physique of his progenitor’s human mother. his modern-day reincarnation, ryou bakura, is taller than him. WEIGHT:  50 kg (110 lbs)  —  in his past life, thief king bakura suffered from undernourishment and lived off the streets throughout childhood and preadolescence, this is because he was orphaned after the kul elna massacre. upon reaching adolescence, he established a frequent line of paid work (which included thievery, tomb-robbing, prostitution and hit lists) and he was able to keep himself fed; this improved his physique greatly and gave him a soft, healthy body. ETHNICITY:  half-japanese / half-european via ryou bakura, egyptian in his past life. OCCUPATION:  in mythology and in default canon, yami bakura is considered the god of chaos, his main objective is to end the world itself after killing pharaoh atem, his opposite who is considered the sun god and his greatest enemy. GENDER:  cis male, he/him. ROMANTIC AND SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  aromantic  /  omnisexual. MBTI:  ISTJ, the logistician  —  ISTJs are logical, organized, sensible, and earnest traditionalists who enjoy keeping their lives and environments well-regulated. typically reserved and serious individuals, they earn success through their thoroughness and extraordinary dependability. they are capable of shutting out distractions in order to take a practical, logical approach to their endeavors, and are able to make the tough decisions that other types avoid. realistic and responsible, ISTJs are often seen as worker bees striving steadily toward their goals. despite their dependability and good intentions, however, ISTJs can experience difficulty in understanding and responding to the emotional needs of others. although they often focus on their internal world, ISTJs prefer dealing with the present and the factual. they are detail-oriented and weigh various options when making decisions, although they generally stick to the conventional. ISTJs are well-prepared for eventualities and have a good understanding of most situations. they believe in practical objectives, and they value traditions and loyalty.

►   SPECIFICS.

FAVOURITE FOOD:  whole roast pig. FAVOURITE DRINK:  although thief king bakura came a desert people who valued water, his favourite drink was undeniably wine. wine was reserved for rich people and just to spite them, he often stole their beverages. despite this, he drank beer often; it was the staple drink of ancient egyptian workers and craftsman as it provided calories and replaced water which was lost through sweat. this preference towards alcoholic beverages transfers into his modern-day tastes. FAVOURITE HOBBY:  albeit his profession in thievery, yami bakura's favourite modern-day hobby is dabbling in the occult, with the occasional tarot card readings and dark magic. FAVOURITE SCENT:  a scent of perfume known as “the egyptian”, which seemed to have been based on cinnamon and myrrh with sweet wine. ancient egyptians were known for their love and creation of beautiful fragrance, thief king bakura was no different. FAVOURITE PERSON:  yami bakura is notorious for his explicit hatred for the world and mankind as a whole, the reason for this stems from his time as thief king bakura and it has amplified over a course of 3,000 years. so naturally, the only person yami bakura favours is himself, himself as a human who survived genocide in ancient egypt and himself as a demon who embodies darkness.

►   TEN FACTS.

the kul elna massacre happened when thief king bakura was only 5 years old. 11 years later, the war between thief king bakura and pharaoh atem occurred. he died when he was 16 years old.

when he was a child, thief king bakura was more akin to his modern-day reincarnation, ryou bakura, in terms of personality and behaviour. however, after witnessing the genocide of his village, he was never the same.

thief king bakura had chronic asthma; this was caused by frequent, insufficient protection from sandstorms. he occasionally ate garlic to help / ease his asthmatic symptoms.

WARNING:  MENTIONS OF RAPE AND CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE!  in addition to being a genocide survivor, thief king bakura was also a survivor of rape and child sexual abuse. during childhood and adolescence, with no real means of survival outside of stealing food and sneaking into houses for shelter, thief king bakura would often get into trouble with adults and the authorities; this resulted in a form of discipline. sometimes it was a slap on the wrist, other times it was a good bruising as a flex of power; and in some cases, soldiers or civilians who caught him would take advantage of him in a sexual manner. because of these particular incidents, thief king bakura grew up offering sex as a way to get what he wanted, or as a way to get out of harsh punishments.

thief king bakura's real name in ancient egypt was apophis / apep. yami bakura is still unaware of his human name.  click here to learn more.

the real reason thief king bakura's soul stayed inside the millennium ring was because after he killed high priest mahad, he stole the millennium ring from his corpse and returned to kul elna and made a pact with zorc necrophades. upon doing so, his soul was forever bound to the demon and the millennium ring itself; and after pharaoh atem defeated and trapped half of zorc necrophades into the millennium puzzle with him, the remaining half returned to the millennium ring. thief king bakura's soul stayed inside the millennium ring because he made a pact with that specific item as his soul jar, and not the millennium puzzle. over the course of 3,000 years, the souls of thief king bakura and zorc necrophades combined and the entity known as yami bakura is born.

much to his chagrin, yami bakura shares a vague connection with pharaoh atem. the reason for this connection is because half of zorc necrophades was sealed inside the millennium puzzle alongside pharaoh atem's soul, and after being exposed to the demon for 3,000 years, it created a link between yami bakura and pharaoh atem after they were reawakened. it's not strong and overwhelming; but instead, it comes as a tugging sensation in the back of their minds and it’s something that always draws them together or alerts them of the other's presence when they’re sharing a vicinity.

yami bakura is able to communicate with the spirits of kul elna that are forever trapped inside the millennium ring. he finds that talking to them eases their souls temporarily, it's like reassurance that he hasn't forgotten; he also finds a strange comfort in the act.

yami bakura has a tendency to avoid dipping his fingers into his lurking human emotions; especially since thief king bakura was a very emotional individual with a lot of baggage and triggers. he refuses to feel anything remotely human because he doesn't want to give the impression that he has weakness, nor does he want to give anyone the ability to push his buttons whenever they feel like it. all this melts around pharaoh atem however.

despite his cold demeanor, yami bakura would protect a baby if he ever found one abandoned somewhere. he wouldn't know anything about caring for something as delicate as a baby, but he'd teach himself if it meant keeping them safe because they would remind him when thief king bakura was an orphan, too. and if anyone were to try and take the baby from him, he'd go absolutely feral.

►   FIVE THINGS HE LIKES.

ARTS AND CRAFTS  —  this comes from thief king bakura descending from the line of royal artisans who worked on the tombs of pharaohs in the valley of the kings.

THE OCCULT  —  ghosts, ghost-hunting and using ouija boards are things yami bakura thoroughly enjoys, being a supernatural existence himself.

TAROT CARDS  —  another activity he occasionally indulges in, he once did a tarot reading for pegasus j. maximillion before killing him in yu-gi-oh! duelist.

TABLETOP ROLEPLAY GAMES  —  he is very passionate about roleplay games of any kind. this is evident during the original yu-gi-oh! manga when he plays monster world with ryou bakura's friends; and in yu-gi-oh! millennium world, when he uses yami yugi's memories as pharaoh atem in ancient egypt during the final tabletop roleplay game.

THE MILLENNIUM RING  —  this ancient artifact has been the home and prison of his spirit for 3,000 years and it contains the 99 victims of the kul elna massacre; because of this, it holds a dear place in the void of his heart.

►   FIVE THINGS HE DISLIKES.

PHARAOH ATEM  —  he harbors an extreme hatred for pharaoh atem and it stems from the ignorance that runs in his family. his uncle akhenaden, a lifelong high priest, was responsible for the kul elna massacre; a tragedy that could have easily been avoided if pharaoh akhenamkhanen, atem's father, had prevented the creation of the millennium items instead of remaining oblivious to the crime his brother had committed. although pharaoh atem wasn't immediately responsible, the hatred fell onto his shoulders when he too failed to give thief king bakura and the deceased victims of kul elna the rightful justice they deserved. instead of punishing the real perpetrator, the young pharaoh decided to remain ignorant and viewed the surviving victim of genocide as an enemy.

SOCIETY  —  yami bakura's dislike towards society as a whole stems from his history.

CATS  —  yami bakura is not a cat person, he prefers dogs over felines because of their loyalty. this is quite ironic due to his own catlike tendencies.

AUTHORITY  —  he dislikes anyone who holds a position of authority, mostly because of the ignorance that seems to go hand-in-hand with possessing power over others.

CHICKPEA PASTE  —  this was his least favourite food in his past life and he still hates the taste and texture of it today.

►   WORDS / PHRASES THAT ANNOY HIM.

JUSTICE AS A TOPIC  —  there aren't any specific words or phrases that really annoy yami bakura, but justice as a topic is a surefire way to elicit a strong, emotional reaction from him. this is entirely because of the injustice that thief king bakura suffered in ancient egypt.

►   PERSONALITY TYPES HE PREFERS.

STOIC PERSONAILITIES  /  SADISTIC PERSONALITIES  —  yami bakura naturally gravitates towards stoic and sadistic personalities like seto kaiba, malik ishtar and begrudgingly, pharaoh atem. these types often compliment his own, which is unhinged and mischievous; they act like a heavy anchor against his merciless ocean.

►   PERSONALITY TYPES HE AVOIDS.

BOISTEROUS PERSONALITIES  /  DOCILE PERSONALITIES  —  yami bakura avoids boisterous personalities, these are the types that get on his nerves the most, whereas docile personalities provide him with zero substance and are types he finds extremely boring.

►   WHAT DO YOU FIND DIFFERENT / DISTINCT ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?

from an objective standpoint, i write yami bakura with heavy mythological influence in comparison to the majority of the roleplay community. i feel like i certainly abstain from defining him as one entity over the other like a lot of writers i've seen, because yami bakura is anything but an individual character; he is a composite, a compromise between the humanness of thief king bakura and the fiendishness of zorc necrophades. i think i make it a point to find an equilibrium between these two vastly different personalities? like, yami bakura is stone cold and outright murderous, but he's still capable of acts of kindness, even if they benefit him in the end. i write him in such a way that he's still this wicked something, but with a touch of human that lurks like a phantom.

i like to appeal to the headcanon that yami bakura is the egyptian god of chaos, especially since there's canonical evidence that kazuki takahashi used that as the structural foundation for his character.

the thing i know for a fact about my portrayal is that there's a lot of research and studying that goes on in the background, and it's obvious when i try to flush out his personality, history and mentality the best that i can without stressing myself out too much in the process. i invest so much time and passion into yami bakura as a character and that's something that is really lacking in a lot of other writers, they conform to what's written in canon instead of trying to view him from different, divergent angles that offer a lot of insight.

[madrut16]

BB Rewrite: Chapter 3 - The Library

Author’s Note: Hello! I’m back to feed your Bloodbound withdrawals with the next chapter of my rewrite. This was a fun one to recreate even with the snake Jameson in it. The next few after this probably won’t be out for a few weeks because I want to write all of my additional chapters that aren’t part of the original story all at once and I’m also going on vacation on Wednesday where I won’t be able to use my phone a lot so...hopefully this will do for now. Thank you again for all of the likes and comments on the last one and for the slew of asks I’ve gotten recently, it’s been really fun! If you have anything Choices related you want to ask me or if you want to get to know the person behind the keyboard feel free to shoot me something. If you want to listen to what music inspires me to write these, I have a giant, 100+ song Bloodbound playlist on Spotify so, you can check that out if you want. My user is madrut16 so you should be able to find it. 

Also, I know that these are super long and it’s annoying w/o the read mores. I’ve tried to put it on there but it doesn’t show up on mobile, probably because it’s too long/too many text box things. So, sorry about that! I’m not doing it on purpose I swear. 

Disclaimer: Any characters/storylines not explicitly stated as being original belongs to Pixelberry Studios. 

Pairing: AdrianxMC

Summary: Isabel deals with a feral attack in Central Park and makes an important and risky decision that will affect her life forever before cheering up her friend with another wild night out.

Tagged: @starshipppromise, @endlesshero1122

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Isabel and Adrian stood in Central Park when they saw a woman being attacked by a hideous creature. After she yelled at it, trying to get it off of the poor lady, it whipped around, and it’s red eyes stared straight at her.

"HhhhHHHHHhhhhh!"

Eyes wide in fright, Isabel exclaimed, "Oh my god! Is that...what is that?"

Adrian ordered loudly, "A Feral! Get back!"

"HsSSSsKkkrrRRr!" it growled.

Just like that, she was terrified again. "Adrian, we need to help that woman!" she begged, grabbing his arm. She knew in the back of her mind that it could very well put them in danger. She just couldn't let that poor woman suffer if she could help it. "Come on, we have to save her from that thing!"

Surprisingly, he didn’t completely shoot her idea down.

"We might be too late," he lamented. 

That only made Isabel more determined. She figured that if she could keep its attention on them instead of the woman long enough they could find a way to get rid of it. However, she knew that it would likely put her in its crosshairs, but that was a risk she was willing take. She’d rather get injured herself rather than living with the guilt if she simply watched it kill the woman.

Impulisvely, she ran forward and yelled, “Leave her ALONE!”

“Isabel, no!” Adrian exclaimed, but he couldn’t pull her back in time as her strategy worked.

The Feral growled, low and guttural, as it released its grip on the woman and headed toward them at top speed. The one thing she hadn’t counted on was its ability to travel fast. 

"RRrrrrRRRRRrr!"

"Ahhhh!" Isabel screamed, as the creature moved with an impossible speed, bounding across the park before it drove her into the ground. The pavement knocked the wind out of her and coughing, she gasped, "Adrian!"

"Isabel!" he exclaimed as the creature hunched over her, it's breath rank, its maw wide. 

She used all of her strength to keep it from getting close to her neck and chest but, she knew it would run out quickly.

"GraAaaAwWwww..."

Adrian grabbed it by the neck and jerked it off of her. "Get off her!" The Feral turned on Adrian, slamming him down on the ground. It's strength was surreal and it snarled as it attacked him with rage. "Isabel! Grab a weapon!"

Catching her breath, she looked around for something, anything. She wondered if since it sort of resembled a vampire, that it could be killed like one.

(I need a stake of some sort.)

Seeing a branch she grabbed instinctively. "Here!" She tossed the branch to Adrian and his hand shot out to catch it.

Quickly, he drove it into the Feral's chest, impaling it deeply with the jagged point of the branch. "Die!"

"HhhhhhHHHHHHhhhhh!" It jerked back with a hideous screech. It's skin cracked, stiffened, and turned a pallid gray. "HhhHHHHhhhh..."

It's entire body disintegrated into crumbling ash, leaving behind nothing but silence. The only thing Isabel could hear was the beating of her racing heart. She stared at the pile of ash in shock as Adrian leapt to his feet and rushed over to her side.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.

She nodded with a similar expression. "Yes...are you?"

"Yes..." he replied, deep in thought. Then he enfolded her into his arms and pulled her in close. “Don’t do that again.”

Normally, she would have protested,but, given the circumstance, she didn't think he’d care too much. She was just glad to be alive. With her chest against his, she could feel the rapid beating of his heart.

As her shock began to dissipate, the reality of what just occurred hit her. Her lip trembled as she stuttered, "I know, I was stupid. I just couldn’t let it kill her. God, I... that..."

"You're okay. You're fine. You're alive," he murmured reassuringly.

She felt herself calming down, one breath at a time. "Thank you...for what you did."

He nodded, before hurrying over to the injured woman, who was still lying on the park bench. He felt for a pulse. "She's alive and breathing, just unconscious. She'll be okay," he sighed in relief.

"Thank god," Isabel said, managing a smile. "We should call 9-1-1."

"Yes." He made no move to pull out his phone.

Realizing the situation, she asked, "Do you...want me to call?"

Adrian affirmed, "It's probably best if it came from you."

She dialed the number on her phone. "Yes, we need paramedics in Central Park, on the path near the Bandshell...This woman was attacked by..." she paused and looked at Adrian, silently wondering what to say. He shook his head, indicating not to mention anything further. "She was attacked. Thank you."

She hung up and turned to Adrian. "So...what the hell was that?"

He sighed. "I know this is not what you signed up for. I suppose I owe you a bit more information," he told her. "That was a Feral."

"Yeah, I got that," she responded. "But what are they? Are they vampires?"

After a second he answered, "In a sense."

"What does that mean?" Her eyebrows knit in confusion.

Adrian explained, "The process of Turning a person into a vampire is fraught with risk. If it goes wrong, they become a Feral instead."

"And you have no control over that?" she inquired.

"We have some," he countered. "If the vampire is welcomed as part of a Clan, they'll get a brand. That brand protects them from becoming Feral."

Isabel frowned. "And if they're not part of a Clan?" She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

He answered sadly. "Then they're Clanless. And they could turn Feral at any moment."

"Back up a sec. What's this about a brand?" she wondered, head spinning as she took in all of this information.

Adrian pulled up is sleeve and showed her an elaborate insignia burned into his forearm. It's infused with the blood of my maker. It forges a personal connection that keeps my consciousness tethered to my body. It keeps me from becoming one of them."

Sighing, he added, "Ferals are as dangerous as hey are pitiable. Mindless. Soulless. Driven only by a desire to feed and kill." He suddenly scowled. "And they're not just dangerous to humans either. Their bites are infectious to my kind as well. If that thing had gotten me..."

Isabel's eyes widened. "You'd have turned into one too."

"And you'd already be dead," he finished.

Everything was starting to make sense now. "The attacks all over the city...the ones in the news..." she whispered. Adrian nodded. "Why are they happening now? Where are all these Ferals coming from?"

He answered bitterly, "I don't know for certain. Turning new humans into vampires without the approval of the Council is strictly forbidden by the Pact. Clan leaders may only create a new vampire if it's replacing a vampire that has been killed...and only with the vote of the Council." Shaking his head he grumbled, "But someone has ben betraying the Pact. Creating Clanless vampires that turn Feral. Putting us all at risk."

Isabel's eyebrows rose. "Wow...do you know who?"

"I have some suspicions, though I don't know for sure. But what I do know is...when you're dealing with Clan leaders... You must be absolutely sure before making accusations."

She recited a quote, "'You come at the King, you best not miss.'"

"Exactly."

They heard sirens and saw the flashing lights of an ambulance approaching on the roadway alongside the path.

"Oh good, here they come," she said with relief. She started waving them down but Adrian put a hand on her shoulder.

(Oh, right.)

He prompted, "We must go."

She understood, but she wanted to know that the woman was getting help. "I just want to be sure they find her and that she's okay."

He gave her a brief, sympathetic smile before saying, "It's important that I keep a low profile."

"For business reasons?" she questioned. "Personal?"

"Both," he replied. "Besides, we need to get you to your debriefing."

As the ambulance pulled over and the paramedics jumped out Adrian took her by the arm and they both slipped away into the darkness. He led her to the other side of the park, and toward the elegant façade of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Isabel gazed up in wonder at its impressive façade, the wide steps led up to the arched entrances.

"This is my favorite museum," she exclaimed. She liked art and history museums in general, in fact she could live in one if she had the chance. However, there was something about the MET that filled her with wonder. "But it should be closed at this hour."

Adrian let out a scoff. "Not to us." He led her around to an unobtrusive side entrance with a numeric keypad.

With a smirk she asked, "What're we doing, checking out the mummies at 3am?"

"Not exactly," he replied elusively. His hand hesitated near the keypad's buttons. "Do you mind?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her look away before he pushed a button.

Getting the hint, she said, "Oh, of course..."

(I should look away.)

As much as she wanted to sneak a peak, she didn't want to risk anything.

He shot her a sympathetic look. "Apologies, it's a private entrance."

She heard him pushing several buttons in a pattern. The door swung open with a metallic hiss, and they stepped into a part of the museum she had never seen before. Together they strolled through the shelves, her eyes fascinated by the dusty books and artifacts.

(I think I'm in love!)

"Huh...What are these? What is this place?" she wondered in amazement.

Adrian answered, "This is the Musea Sanguis."

Isabel was becoming more and more intrigued. "Which is...what?"

"The place where the true history of the world is kept," he explained.

Her jaw dropped instantly, as a thrill ran through her. "You're joking."

He shook his head, a little amused at her excitement.

"That's...amazing," she marveled.

They rounded a corner to find an aristocratic gentleman in 18th century garb, eyeing her curiously.

With a smile, Adrian introduced them. "Isabel, I'd like to introduce you to Scholar Jameson. He is the keeper of the library."

The man said, "Thoroughly pleased to meet you, Madam." Scholar Jameson was soft-spoken and formal. He extended a hand to her.

"Uh..."

(Oh! 1700s...he probably wants you to curtsey.)

She dipped, holding the skirt of her dress, causing Adrian to chuckle.

(Is he...making fun of me?)

She shook the thought.

Jameson commented, "An acquaintance of Adrian's is always welcome here."

"So, uh...what kind of collection do you have down here?" she wondered curiously.

He twiddled his fingers together and rocked back on his heels, amused. "We specialize, I suppose you could say, on the bloodier aspects of history."

She quickly caught on. "Like...vampire history?"

"Not exclusively, no, simply a more complete history. I suppose I can share some highlights...?" He looked to Adrian, who nodded. "For instance, we possess the actual guillotine blade that was used to execute Marie Antoinette!"

Her eyes widened. "Really? Wait, she wasn't a..."

"Oh no no, my dear!" he exclaimed. "But the blade was owned and deeply loved by a well-known vampire until his untimely end a few years ago."

Clearing his throat, Adrian announced, "Ahem. Scholar, I apologize for coming here on such short notice..."

"Urgent matters can't be scheduled conveniently," the man said. "I presume you have come in need of a debriefing?"

"Indeed," Adrian told him.

Isabel started to get worried, wondering what that could possibly mean.

The man nodded at once. "All right then."

Suddenly, Scholar Jameson put his hands on either side of her head, pressing his long, elegant fingers against her temples.

"Um," she blurted out, her mind racing. What would he possibly want to do to her head?"

He gave her a reassuring look. "No need to fear, young lady. It's a simple process."

Adrian wore a similar expression. "He's the best, and it's very quick. You won't feel anything."

(What?)

Her mind refused to quiet, in fact it went into hyper speed. "Feel...what do you mean? What is he doing?" she demanded.

Jameson quickly elaborated, "Debriefing is a psychic art I mastered in the course of my travels. It requires tremendous focus and discipline, which, I'm afraid, few of our kind have."

(Psychic? As in...mind?)

Suddenly, it hit her like a ton of bricks. She knew exactly what was happening.

"Wait a minute, are you...erasing my memories?" she exclaimed in horror.

The man smiled. "Well. Perceptive, aren't you? I can see why Adrian chose you."

"Mmmm," Adrian murmured, as if to confirm her suspicions.

(What the hell?!)

Suddenly, Isabel became furious. She jerked away from Scholar Jameson's hands.

"Adrian...You need to explain!" she insisted, glaring at him.

Remaining calm, he told her, "You know my secret, Isabel. All of our secrets. We can't just let you continue on knowing what you know." A conflicted look appeared on his face. "It's not just about protecting my people. It's about protecting you."

This only proceeded to anger her further. "So this whole night, everything you've shared with me, you knew it was only temporary?!" She ranted loudly. Her eyes filled with utter disappointment. "Why did you even bother taking me with you?"

"Mortality is only temporary," he described. "One day, there will be nothing left of you but dust and bone. But you will still have lived your life. And the act of living is what matters."

"I don't...it's not that simple--"

At this point, he was almost pleading. "Believe me, Isabel. My world is dangerous and terrifying, What you have been through tonight is just the tip of the iceberg. What I'm offering you is the chance to go back to the life you live before...safe, secure, free."

(Chance? So it’s not mandatory?)

"Do you consent?" he asked.

“Wait, do I actually have a choice? Or is that just a trick question.”

After a minute Adrian said, “...Technically, yes.”

She thought about it for a moment. Everything that had happened since the job interview. As much as she knew that it was probably wise to just say yes and give in. Deep down though, she didn't want to. If she had to be honest, for the most part, she enjoyed what happened that night. In fact, she wouldn't trade what occurred for anything. Even the bad and scary parts.

She wasn't ready to admit it until then but she had been feeling stuck for a while that she was stuck. She wasn't living for herself, but for other people: her parents, past bosses, Derek. Suddenly overnight her world had been flipped upside down and with it she saw the opportunity to take control staring right at her. Something inside told her that the purpose she'd been searching for since day one in New York was right in front of her. To do what she wanted, what she felt was worthy of fighting for. To live each day as if it were her last. It was now or never, time to carpe diem. 

Having made up her mind, she took a deep breath and said something she hadn’t in a long time. “No.”

"I'm sorry?" Adrian stammered in disbelief.

"No," she repeated, this time more forcefully. "I won't do it. This night...the scary parts, the wild parts, everything...has made me feel the most alive I think I've ever felt." Looking at him, she smiled and she knew that whatever the outcome, she had made the right decision. "Your world, your kind...I'm excited to be part of it. I promise you can trust me, I’Il protect your secret. I want to stay and I want to be your assistant...your real assistant."

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Aren't you afraid?"

She thought about it for a minute. "Am I afraid? No," she answered truthfully. In the beginning she was terrified. And she knew that she would be in the future plenty of times. But, she knew that it would be worth it. "I'm exhilarated, excited, maybe even nervous, but I'm not scared. I feel like my eyes are open to what's really happening in this city...in this world...and I want to learn more," she explained enthusiastically.

"More importantly, I want to help you figure out what's happening with the Ferals and to do something to stop these attacks. To save more people like the woman we saved tonight." She paused before pleading, "I meant what I told you at dinner. I want to make a better world...for both your kind and mine. So let me do it."

Adrian cocked his head to the side, taking her in. His eyes seemed to see right through her. Finally he said with a sigh,"Okay."

Jameson turned to him, shocked. "Really?"

"Really," he reiterated. "You can keep your knowledge. No one's ever chosen not to get debriefed before."

Scholar Jameson shook his head, regretfully. "I fear this won't end well old friend..." he warned.

"We can always debrief her if she decides she wants it at a later date," Adrian told him. "But I believe it's worth giving her a chance."

Isabel couldn't believe that he agreed. "I won't let you down!" she assured him.

"Well, Scholar Jameson, thank you for your help. I will see you soon," he told the other man.

He broke out a smile. "It was a pleasure, as always."

A little disappointed, Isabel asked, "We're leaving already? But this place is amazing. I'm sure it's full of secrets waiting to be discovered."

Adrian glanced at his watch, then looked up at her with a smile. "I could give you a quick tour before the sun rises," he suggested. "...and I wouldn't say no to getting to know you a bit better...professionally of course."

Isabel didn't need much time to decide. "Explore the library? Let's go!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I'm not ready for tonight to be over."

"You're not tired?" he asked her, surprised. As if he didn’t expect her to say yes.

"I'm running on pure adrenaline," she scoffed in response. "I don't think I could go to sleep even if I wanted to."

He chuckled in amusement. "Then we should get moving, before it wears off." He offered her his arm. She took it after a moment, and the two of them strolled deeper into the library.

"I will warn you, I'm a bit of a history nerd. In fact, I took so many classes in college that I ended up with a minor in it so...I may squeal like a little kid at any moment," she told him.

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Now that I definitely have to see. Let's see what I can do."

She followed him down an aisle and stopped in front of a display case which housed a long, silver sword.

Isabel's eyes brightened in amazement. "Oooh, this looks cool. What is it?" she asked.

"The sword of Attila the Hun," he explained.

Her mouth fell open as she peered through the glass and admired the sword's jewel-encrusted hilt. "It's beautiful."

Adrian smiled. "Indeed. There are some who believed it gave Attila godly powers, but it's just an ordinary sword."

"Was Attila a vampire then?" she wondered, trying to figure out how it related.

He shrugged. "We're not sure, but it seems fairly likely that he was some kind of supernatural entity."

She looked at him in shock. "Wait a second. Are you saying there's other...creatures out there? It's not just vampires?"

Elusively, he replied, "There's no limit to what you'll find when you go looking in the shadows." He gestured to a case behind her. Inside, there was a furry claw, vaguely human in shape, with huge talons for nails.

"...Werewolf?" she inquired, looking at it curiously.

"Probably," Adrian told her, giving her a playful wink before continuing down the aisle.

She stumbled after him. "That's wild...How do you know so much about this stuff?" she asked.

"I studied it for decades," he answered, giving her a smirk. "I can tell you about anything in this library."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Isabel took a quick look around. "Anything, huh? How about we put that to the test." Suddenly, she grinned slowly, smugly. "Tell me about...me," she demanded.

"You?" he replied, his eyes going round. She'd obviously caught him off guard, which was her desired effect.

She snickered, "You said anything in the library, didn't you?" Her eyes sparkled.

Adrian shook his head but his lips turned up into a smile. "You continue to surprise me. Alright, let's see..." He met her eyes, and they stared at each other for a moment. "You're fierce and compassionate...and far braver than I ever expected."

Isabel felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she averted her gaze. How was he doing to her what Derek hadn't been able to in months? She rolled her eyes. "Flatterer."

"I'm just telling you what I know," he replied.

(And being very distracting!)

It hadn't even been a month since she and her former boyfriend, Derek, and she had promised herself that she would remain single for a while. Her relationships were always long-term and she'd gone from one to the other since high school, with only a couple months in between. In addition, Derek had also been another intern, in a different department (which is why they were allowed to date) and she didn't want a repeat of that.

Sighing, she pushed it out of her mind, not wanting it to ruin the few moments of the night she had left. There was another thought nagging her though. One that she could bring up.

They turned down the next aisle, which was lined with bookshelves, and she cleared her throat. "So earlier...you said that no one ever chose to keep their memories...But what about Nicole and the people in Priya's club?"

After a second of thought, Adrian told her, "Those are people we've chosen to bring it. Who we've eased into the truth of your world." He frowned. "Most people who find out the way you did panic when they find out the truth. I've see it plenty of times. They welcome the release of forgetting. Beg for it even."

She hadn't seen it any other way, but now it made a lot of sense. "Is that what happened to your last assistant?" she wondered.

Adrian stopped walking, and she turned to face him. He glanced at her and sighed before looking away again. "No. Not exactly," he replied, glumly. Sadness clouded his features. "One of my rival tech companies bribed her to break into the Raines Corporation labs and steal some samples for them. She stole a high-level clearance keycard and broke into the Black-9 facility. She had no idea what my scientists were working on in there."

Isabel was stunned. "What were they doing there?" She didn't expect him to tell her.

But, she was surprised when after hesitating for a moment, he explained it to her in detail. "For some time, I've been studying Ferals. In the hope that perhaps I might find a cure." His face darkened and his brows furrowed. "The Black-9 facility is where I kept my test subjects."

"Oh..." Isabel uttered, as a sad recognition dawned on her face.

Confirming her suspicions, he told her, "One broke free. Attacked her. She was saved but...deeply traumatized. Debriefing her was a mercy." He fell silent and the two of them started walking again.

Stealing a glance, she dared ask, "Adrian...why'd you let me keep my memories?"

He answered immediately. "I could tell you were different right from the moment I met you."

With a smile, she said, "That's why you hired me."

His grin gave it away. "Indeed...but tonight, you exceeded all my expectations."

"First day on the job, and I've already impressed the boss," she beamed.

"You saw things that would have sent most people running but you didn't. That would have been reason enough to give you a chance," he told her.

Her brows rose. "Is there another reason?" she asked.

Adrian paused, and she looked over at him curiously. He met her eyes and smiled. "I suppose...I also wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to you."

"Lucky me," she replied, diverting her gaze for a second as her stomach did a flip which surprised her.

(Damn it. Why do I keep feeling this way?)

As they turned down another aisle, she caught sight of a strange looking sarcophagus, and a feeling of unease settled in her gut. As though in a trance, she took a few steps towards it. Then, Adrian stopped her, with a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"...Huh?" she stammered, snapping out of it to look at him bewildered. She came back to herself with a shake of her head.

She watched as he stared at the sarcophagus, jaw clenched.

"What is that thing?" she murmured, eyes wide.

A look of pain flashed across his face, briefly, before he tore his gaze away. With a sigh, he said, "That...is none of our concern."

He turned away sharply and for a moment they walked in silence. His expression didn't go away, which worried her slightly.

"Is everything okay, Adrian?" she inquired.

He met her gaze. "Oh... Yes, I'm fine. I was just...reminiscing about the past. I suppose I'm still not quite used to the idea of having someone to share my thoughts with."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Adrian...I want to be here for you...as a friend. I know we haven't known each other for very long but...I really feel like we have a connection."

"It's only been a day," he countered. "You might not decide to stick around..."

(Does that mean he wants me to?)

She smirked. "And weren't you the one who said that everything is temporary?" she questioned, an eyebrow raised.

Adrian opened his mouth to retort, then shut it and looked away. "Yes, I suppose I did..."

"Well, I'm here for you now. That's what matters."

He looked down at his watch and sighed. "We should probably get going. It's almost morning."

(Daylight.)

"Thanks for showing me around," she said.

He gave her a warm smile. "It was my pleasure." He offered her his arm with a smile before leading her out of the library.

They stepped out of the museum's side entrance to quiet streets, birds chirped, an occasional taxi sped by. A rare occurrence for New York. The sun was just about to peek over the city and the sky glowed with the breaking dawn.

Wistfully, Adrian sighed, "Dawn already."

Isabel fought back a yawn. "I can't believe I was up all night! Though I guess you're used to that."

"I am. And now I must go rest. Recover. And consider tonight's events," he told her.

Making eye contact she stammered, "Okay...?" The departure felt...sudden.

"Take care of yourself, Isabel," he said. "Have a good weekend."

"Oh...all right." She watched him glance at the horizon and wince at the light. Delicately, she inquired, "Do you...wish you could stay?"

Adrian paused, thinking. He smiled, bittersweetly. "I wish we could go drink a cup of coffee in an outdoor café and feel the sun warming us from million miles away. I wish I could walk with you through the park on a sunny summer afternoon." His eyes momentarily dropped to the ground. "I wish I could, but I can't."

He took a deep breath, straightened himself up and shook his head. He put a hand on her shoulder, startling her. "Go get some rest. I'll see you at 8pm on Monday."

She gave him a grin. "I take it I'm on the night shift now?"

"Well...if you want to be my real assistant..." he said.

Who needed a normal sleep schedule. "I'll see you there." Even before she finished her sentence, he had whirled away and disappeared around the corner. She walked back to her apartment, head filled with the memories of the last several hours.

Back at home, she crawled into bed and crashed, hard. Hours later, the sound of a videogame penetrated her brain, waking her up.

(Ugh...so...loud.)

She turned onto her back and her eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

(Why is it dark? What time is it?)

Looking at the alarm clock on her nightstand she gasped.

(9:30pm? I slept all day! Whoops...)

She checked her phone on the table to see it full of messages from Alyssa, wondering where she was and why she wasn't responding. Groaning, she sent her another apology, explaining vaguely that she had been busy. Luckily, she didn’t hold it against her. 

She changed out of the dress that she'd had on into a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt ad walked out to see Lily on the couch. She was killing zombies loudly on the TV and drinking wine straight from the bottle.

"Oh, I've got you now..." the purple-haired gamer growled.

Instantly, Isabel became concerned. "Uh, Lil?" she asked.

Her friend didn't look up, and instead just kept aggressively shooting zombies. It was bloody.

"Boom! Headshot!"

(Oh no. This can't be good.)

Taking a deep breath, Isabel shouted, "Hey! Is there a reason you need to play with the volume all the way up?"

Seeing her, Lily paused the game, taking a swig of the wine before offering it to her morosely.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Blowing off their heads in surround sound makes me feel less unfathomably depressed somehow..."

Isabel's eyebrows knit in concern. Going into the kitchen for a cup of coffee she asked, "Uh oh... Trouble on the Melanie front?"

"There is no Melanie front, not anymore," her friend grumbled. "She broke up with me to get back together with her stupid ex."

Isabel quickly ran back to the couch where she sat down and gave Lily a hug. She buried her head into her shoulder and gave a little sniffle.

"Sorry I'm such a mess," she apologized.

Shaking her head, Isabel replied, "Don't be sorry...that really sucks."

"Yeah. Killing zombies is a good distraction, but I feel like a dam about to explode any second." Lily sighed deeply. "I know Melanie was kind of a jerk in the end but...I really liked her. She got me. It's not every day you meet someone who can appreciate a good Zutara reference."

Isabel gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know."

Lily sniffed. "God, look at me. Throwing myself a total pity party. I promise I'll be way less of a mopey mump tomorrow."

Suddenly, Isabel had an idea. Even though she had just spent all last night out, she knew that her friend needed to be cheered up. And a little night on the town was the best way she knew how. "Hey Lily, I’ve got an idea...let’s go out!”

Her friend shrugged. "I don't know..."

"Come on! It'll be great. We'll hit the club with Alyssa...have some drinks...make out with attractive strangers," she pleaded, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively. "Put photos online and make sure Melanie and Derek see them."

Lily brightened. "How would I ever say no to that?"

"Exactly! You can't!"

"All right, let's do it!" her best friend exclaimed. "...After I beat this mission."

Isabel rolled her eyes at her friend, but couldn't help smile. She used that time to change into a club-worthy outfit. After multiple outfit changes she settled on a short, glittery silver dress that showed all of her best assets off without being too risqué. She also texted Alyssa the plan who quickly got on board even though she didn’t like clubbing as much as they did.

An hour later, they were working out their feelings on the dance floor. The music was pumping, they were dancing, and she almost completely forgot about her adventures from the night before.

"Wooooooo!" she exclaimed, glad to let off the stress and lingering feelings about her break up. Sometimes, as much as she believed in being selfish and taking care of your own needs sometimes, she often didn't take her own advice.

"Hell yeah!" Lily shouted.

This was heavily needed for all of them.

Feeling herself start to get sore from dancing, she asked, "Should we take a break and get a drink?"

They didn't need much convincing. They walked, happy and sweaty, over to the bar and tried to get the bartender's attention.

"Hey, excuse me...?" Alyssa asked politely. However, her voice didn't carry and the female bartender didn't hear, helping someone else instead. 

A male bartender walked by and this time, Isabel tried. "Hello, excuse me!" He also kept walking. 

With an impatient look, Lily questioned, "Izzy, Lys, do you really want something to drink?"

"Yeah..." Isabel replied.

A sly smile appeared on their friend's face. "Cause you're not acting like you do," she commented before putting her fingers in her mouth, producing a loud whistle. Everyone at the bar turned and stared at her. "Barkeep! Can we get some refreshments or what?"

The male bartender drifted over, giving them major attitude. Turning to Isabel and Alyssa, she said, "We'd like...I dunno, what do you want?"

Isabel thought for a moment before exclaiming, "Three fancy cocktails!" She squinted, reading the menu behind the bar. With a charismatic grin, she said, "I'll have the Watermelon Waterfall."

Following her lead, Lily added, "And I'll get the Khaleesi Kooler!"

“Um, and I’ll have the Pineapple Mango Rum Punch?” Alyssa said timidly.

The bartender rolled his eyes and made them three absurdly complicated, colorful drinks with little umbrellas.

The gamer stated, "I've always said, the best drinks are the ones that look like you smushed a rainbow unicorn into a cocktail glass. Just plain ridiculous."

Smiling to herself, Isabel replied, "Ridiculous is exactly what I was going for. This has been a ridiculous 24 hours." She dropped some cash on the bar. The bartender snatched it up and made a face at the small tip before disappearing. Her eyes widened, knowing how little they made from bartending for a couple summers during college and also at night while doing her internship. "That's all the cash I have! Sorry!"

Lily scoffed. "Don't be sorry!" she grumbled. "He gave us so much attitude."

Isabel shrugged.

 "Who knows, maybe he just had a bad breakup?" Alyssa suggested.

Her friend's face suddenly collapsed and she instantly wished she hadn't said it. "Why you gotta mention breakups? Ugh, now I feel bad." She pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and left them on the bar. "It's no fun being mean when you make me feel guilty about it."

"You're not really mean, you just pretend," the journalist pointed out with a smile.

"Shhh, don't tell."

Isabel raised her glass, trying to cheer her up. "Let's have a toast! Here's to horrible exes!" she cheered. "Because today's terrible breakup is tomorrow's hilarious anecdote!"

"Yes! I'll drink to that!" Lily yelled, taking a good sip. Suddenly, she theorized," Ohmygod...I just realized...could our horrible exes be...our supervillain origin stories? Maybe this is the moment I become Evil Lily!"

Laughing, Isabel asked,"...How much wine did you have at home?"

Waving a finger, her best friend replied, "I plead the fifth, your honor."

She shook her head. 

"Okay...We are not drinking any more after this." Alyssa told them.

"No more," Lily agreed with a slow nod.

"Last drink." Isabel said.

The gamer repeated her statement, almost as if they were trying to convince themselves still. "Last drink."

However, that is definitely what they did not do. Three drinks later...they had taken over a booth in the back of the club. The table was covered with empty glasses and half-eaten appetizers.

In drunken amazement, Isabel gasped, "You did not tell me that Melanie had webbed toes!"

"I could've sworn I did..." her friend trailed off before frowning. "They were so cute...like little duckie feet..."

Alyssa raised an eyebrow, not picking up on the change in attitude. "I don't know, it's kinda weird..."

"But I like weird," Lily murmured. "And I think you do too..."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

She smiled. "You guys like me, right?"

Isabel rolled her eyes. "Of course, but you're not a weirdo," she told her.

Lily snorted before arguing, "Oh really? Try being a nerdy, bi black girl growing up in rural Wisconsin... I was Weirdo City."

"Aww, I'm just imagining little nerdy middle school Lily...adorable." Alyssa squealed.

Her friend laughed dryly before her expression darkened. "Not so much. Like, I tried to be normal, I tried wearing what everyone else wore, I tried gossiping about boy bands...but it just felt like a bad-fitting jacket."

"Really? Because you seem so comfortable just being who you are now," she replied a little surprised. She felt like she'd gotten to know her friend really well but, turns out there was more to learn. "When did you become...you?"

Isabel already knew this and answered for her. "Senior prom, right?”

"What?" Alyssa asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I can’t believe you remembered,” Lily confirmed. “Nobody asked me to go, and I was like, I can sit at home and feel bad for myself, or I can be who I am and go...It wasn't like I could get any lonelier than I already was, so I just thought, screw it." Lily smiled as she retold the memory. "I put rainbow braids in my hair, and I put on combat boots, and I went, And you know what?" 

"What?" Alyssa wondered.

"I had an awesome time," her friend replied. "And it was the first time I told anyone I was mostly into girls..."

Alyssa became slightly confused. "Huh, 'Mostly?'"

"I mean, there's definitely dudes I think are hot. And I've had fun fooling around with them. It's just, when it comes to who I'm really into, who I actually want to do the whole relationship thing with...it's pretty much always a girl." Lily frowned once more. "Like Melanie."

Raising an eyebrow, Isabel lectured, "Whoa there! No sad ex talk! We're having fun, remember?"

"Right. Of course. How could I forget? Thanks so much for being here for me, Isabel. I love you.”

"Aw, Lil, I love you." she replied. 

“And you’re pretty cool too Alyssa. We definitely need to do this more often.”

“Oh, thanks,” she replied before pulling her friends in for an embrace. "Melanie's an idiot. You're gonna find someone way awesomer. I know you will..." They held her for a while.

Finally, Lily said, "You're the best, thank you. I needed that." She sniffled, then took a deep breath, and jumped onto her feet. "More dancing?" she suggested.

Isabel nodded. Lily grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dance floor with Alyssa following suit

They went back to the floor where they danced up a storm....It was joyous, raucous, celebratory. But none of them noticed, at the very edge of the dance floor, burning in the darkness a pair of glowing eyes that was staring at them.

To be continued....

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Hope you guys enjoyed! Remember if you want to be tagged in future chapters and aren’t currently, let me know. 

[nebris]

Ernst Hanfstaengel 

Ernst Hanfstaengel, the son of a wealthy publisher and art dealer, was born in Munich, Germany, on 2nd February, 1887. He had an American mother and his grandfather, William Heine, was a general who fought in the American Civil War.

Hanfstaengel was educated at the Royal Bavarian Wilheim-Gymnasium where his form master was the father of Heinrich Himmler. He completed his education at Harvard University. After graduating in 1909 he joined the family business on Fifth Avenue.

Hanfstaengel remained in the United States during the First World War and did not return to Germany until 1919. Soon after arriving in Berlin he met Captain Truman Smith, a military attache at the American Embassy. It was Smith who advised Hanfstaengel to go and see Adolf Hitler speak at a National Socialist German Workers Party (NSDAP) meeting.

Hanfstaengel later recalled:  "In his heavy boots, dark suit and leather waistcoat, semi-stiff white collar and odd little moustache, he really did not look very impressive - like a waiter in a railway-station restaurant. However, when Drexler introduced him to a roar of applause, Hitler straightened up and walked past the press table with a swift, controlled step, the unmistakable soldier in mufti. The atmosphere in the hall was electric. Apparently this was his first public appearance after serving a short prison-sentence for breaking up a meeting addressed by a Bavarian separatist named Ballerstedt, so he had to be reasonably careful what he said in case the police should arrest him again as a disturber of the peace. Perhaps this is what gave such a brilliant quality to his speech, which for innuendo and irony I have never heard matched, even by him. No one who judges his capacity as a speaker from the performances of his later years can have any true insight into his gifts."

Hanfstaengel became one of Hitler's inner circle. He was one of his earliest financial supporters and in March, 1923, provided $1,000 to ensure the daily publication of  Volkische Beobachter. The newspaper, an anti-Semitic gossip sheet had previously appeared twice a week. With Hanfstaengel's money it was published every day. As the author of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich (1960) has pointed out: "It became a daily, thus giving Hitler the prerequisite of all German political parties, a daily newspaper in which to preach the party's gospels."

In November 1923, Hanfstaengel took part in the Beer Hall Putsch. "Hitler began to plough his way towards the platform and the rest of us surged forward behind him. Tables overturned with their jugs of beer. On the way we passed a major named Mucksel, one of the heads of the intelligence section at Army headquarters, who started to draw his pistol as soon as he saw Hitler approach, but the bodyguard had covered him with theirs and there was no shooting. Hitler clambered on a chair and fired a round at the ceiling."

After the failed coup he hid Hitler in his villa in the Bavarian Alps. Hitler was eventually arrested and put on trial for his role in the Beer Hall Putsch. If found guilty, Hitler faced the death penalty. While in prison Hitler suffered from depression and talked of committing suicide. However, it soon became clear that the Nazi sympathizers in the Bavarian government were going to make sure that Hitler would not be punished severely. At his trial Hitler was allowed to turn the proceedings into a political rally, and although he was found guilty he only received the minimum sentence of five years. Hanfstaengel visited him during his prison term at Landsberg am Lech and helped to reestablish his political career after his release. The two men remained close and Hanfstaengel became a member of his inner-circle.

Hanfstaengel later recalled that Hitler talked to him a great deal about America. He was especially interested in the ideas of Henry Ford and the Ku Klux Klan. "In his questions Hitler revealed to me that his ideas about America were wildly superficial. He wanted to hear all about the skyscrapers and was fascinated by details of technical progress, but failed utterly to draw logical conclusions from this information. The only American figure for whom he had time for was Henry Ford, and then not so much as an industrial wonder-worker but rather as a reputed anti-Semite and a possible source of funds. Hitler was also passionately interested in the Ku Klux Klan, then at the height of its questionable reputation. He seemed to think it was a political movement similar to his own, with which it might be possible to make some pact, and I was never able to put its relative importance in proper prospective for him."

His biographer, Louis L. Snyder, has pointed out: "A towering 6-foot, 4-inch giant with an enormous head, a pugnacious jaw, and thick hair. Hanfstaengel endured the nickname Putzi throughout his career. He was a gifted pianist who used his huge hands to pound out the more flamboyant passages of Liszt and Wagner.... Hanfstaengel, the only literary member of Hitler's inner circle, introduced the coarse Austrian to the Munich milieu of art and culture and attempted to make him socially acceptable.... The tall Bavarian was a gay and amusing companion on political campaigns. With his practical jokes and broad sense of humour, he was regarded as a kind of Shakespearean jester whose main task was to provide relaxation for the harried leader."

The journalist, William L. Shirer, met Ernst Hanfstaengel while working in Germany: "An eccentric, gangling man, whose sardonic wit somewhat compensated for his shallow mind, Hanfstaengel was a virtuoso at the piano and on many an evening, even after his friend came to power in Berlin, he would excuse himself from the company of those of us who might be with him to answer a hasty summons from the Fuehrer. It was said that his piano-playing - he pounded the instrument furiously - and his clowning soothed Hitler and even cheered him up after a tiring day. Later this strange but genial Harvard man, like some other early cronies of Hitler, would have to flee the country for his life."

in 1931 Hanfstaengel was appointed Foreign Press Chief of the Nazi Party. Over the next few years he tried to use his contacts to improve the image of Hitler in other countries. He also spent time with foreign visitors. This included Unity Mitford, the daughter of Lord Redesdale. According to Armida Macindoe: He (Hanfstaengl) was more of a means than an end, he introduced her to Nazis." Hanfstaengel admitted that Unity and Diana were outstanding Nordic beauties: "They were very attractive but they made-up to the eyebrows in a manner which conflicted directly with the newly proclaimed Nazi ideal of German womanhood." As a result he insisted they removed some of it: "My dears, it is no good, but to stand any hope of meeting him (Hitler) you will have to wipe some of that stuff off your faces."

Ernst Hanfstaengel arranged for British journalists like George Ward Price and Sefton Delmer to meet Hitler. He pointed out in Hitler: The Missing Years  (1957): "Sefton Delmer of the Daily Express took a great interest in our campaign and became very much persona grata with the nazi leadership. He was really very partial to Delmer and, when he became Chancellor, willingly agreed that the Daily Express man should be given the first exclusive interview." He also introduced the British politician, Robert Boothby, to Hitler: "I received a telephone call from my friend Putzi Hanfstaengel, who was at that time Hitler's personal private secretary and court jester. He told me that the Führer had been reading my speeches with interest, and would like to see me at his headquarters in the Esplanade Hotel. It is true that when I walked across the long room to a corner in which he was sitting writing, in a brown shirt with a swastika on his arm, he waited without looking up until I had reached his side, then sprang to his feet, lifted his right arm, and shouted Hitler!, and that I responded by clicking my heels together, raising my right arm, and shouting back: Boothby!"

Hanfstaengel  had serious doubts about Hitler's radical political beliefs. Louis L. Snyder has pointed out: "Hanfstaengel attempted in subtle ways to influence the Hitler to moderate his political, religious, and racial views, while Hitler on his side resented any interference. On one occasion at a crowded reception, Hanfstaengel loudly called Dr. Paul Joseph Goebbels, Minister for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, a swine. This kind of frankness did not endear him to the Nazi establishment."

In March 1937 Hanfstaengel was warned that Joseph Goebbels was involved in a conspiracy to murder him. He later recalled: "The evil genius of the second half of Hitler's career was Goebbels. I always likened this mocking, jealous, vicious, satanically gifted dwarf to the pilot-fish of the Hitler shark. It was he who finally turned Hitler fanatically against all established institutions and forms of authority. He was not only schizophrenic but schizopedic, and that was what made him so sinister."

Deciding he was in danger, Hanfstaengel fled to Canada. In the summer of 1942, Hanfstaengel was interviewed by John Franklin Carter. He left the meeting convinced was eager to work for the Allies against the Nazis. President Franklin D. Roosevelt agreed that Hanfstaengl should be recruited but Winston Churchill disagreed because he feared that it would confuse people into believing "that there are good and bad ex-Nazis". Roosevelt eventually got his way and on 24th June, 1942, he was flown to Washington under the name of Ernst Sedgwick. In July 1942, he was established on a farm in Virginia under the control of Donald Chase Downes. He later was used by Roosevelt as a "political and psychological warfare adviser in the war against Germany."

After the Second World War Hanfstaengel returned to Germany where he published his book, Hitler: The Missing Years (1957).

Ernst Hanfstaengel died in Munich on 6th November, 1975.

http://spartacus-educational.com/GERhanfstaengel.htm

[carriejonesbooks]

Seriously.

I know people lie all the time. I know these people get powerful, get fame, get money, get whatever… I know that their lies are there to shelter them, protect them, because they are afraid that their past mistakes or inadequacies  will make people love them. Or just because they are ashamed of what they’ve done and who they are.

I know that we all do it.

That we all lie.

Sometimes.

I’m not talking about the white lies where you tell someone their butt looks good when it doesn’t.

I’m talking about the lies we create to try to dig ourselves out of humiliating experiences. You know what I mean right? When you mess up on your job. When you mess up in your book. When you mess up in your relationship.

Those kinds of lies.

Lying makes you sick. It makes your heart sick. It makes your body sick. I don’t want you to be sick.

I knew a man who was in an insufferable marriage. Before you judge, just know it was bad. He had an affair and then he had eczema, terrible eczema. He finally divorced his wife and the eczema was gone. Yes, correlation doesn’t always equal causation. I get that. But I also get that lying messes us up.

According to an article in the Atlantic, people lie about 11 times every week. It’s no wonder we as a society have forgotten what truth is, right? We lie an average of 572 times a year. And sometimes, telling the truth is seen as the act of the unsophisticated.

Yeah. I am not cool with that. I’m not cool with lying to get ahead or lying to get out of trouble or lying so that your public persona seems better than it is. Because I know that lying hurts your insides. I want your insides to feel good, darn it.

In Gunderman’s story for the Atlantic, he writes:

Researchers at the University of Notre Dame followed 110 people over a period of ten weeks. Half of the participants were asked to stop lying over this period of time, and the other half were not. Both groups took weekly polygraph tests to determine how many times they had lied in the previous week. Those who were able to reduce by three the number of lies they told had four fewer mental health complaints (such as feeling tense) and three fewer physical health complaints (such as headaches) than those who did not.

So how do you not lie?

Sign an ethics agreement with yourself.

Avoid conflicts of interest

Realize that if you lose your job, or mess up big-time, people can and still love you. They’ll relate to you because it’s happened to them, too. And if they can’t? If your act of imperfection is unforgivable to them, then move on honestly. It will be better for you in the long run.

For some people writing down the Ten Commandments or similar articles of behavior is a reminder to be honest and helps prevent dishonesty.

Don’t pick a job or a lifestyle or a relationship that rewards dishonesty and encourages it. Here’s an old story about that with Wells Fargo.

Lying and Writing

The perception is that all writers are liars. We construct these fictional worlds that aren’t truth. Therefore we must be lying, right? We must be suffering from the same health effects that liars-in-real-life do.

Yeah. No.

Writers create entire worlds. Yes. We fabricate details. Yes. We make people up. Yes.

But we aren’t experts in lying. We’re experts in truth.

“Wait… What…?” you’re probably saying.

But here’s the thing. Writers create worlds. But we create worlds out of truths. We put in key details. We focus on being believable. But what we’re doing is using art to tell the truths of our own stories, of the world’s stories, which is the truth of people’s stories and existence.

The best writers are the best truth tellers because their story matters to them. The depth of what they’re writing about (grief, racism, oppression, love, justice) is the truth that needs to come out of their soul. That’s the opposite of lying.

So, go write. If you’re writing your inner truth? That’s only going to lift you up.

Do Good Wednesday

Make a pact with yourself to tell the truth as much as you can. It’s that simple.

  WRITING NEWS

Yep, it’s the part of the blog where I talk about my books and projects because I am a writer for a living, which means I need people to review and buy my books or at least spread the word about them.

I’m super good at public image and marketing for nonprofits but I have a much harder time with marketing myself.

So, please buy one of my books. 🙂 The links about them are all up there in the header on top of the page on my website carriejonesbooks.blog.  There are young adult series, middle grade fantasy series, stand-alones for young adults and even picture book biographies.

Time Stoppers

Flying

Moe Berg

Write! Submit! Support! Begins Again in July!

  It’s not easy to create a thriving writing career in the children’s industry, but what if you didn’t have to do it alone? Write. Submit. Support is a six-month program designed by author and Writing Barn Founder Bethany Hegedus. Classes are led by top creatives in the children’s industry field; they’ll give you the tips and tools you need to take both your manuscripts and your developing career to the next level. Think of it as an MFA in craft with a certificate in discovering (or recovering) your writer joy! – Writing Barn 

More about the class I specifically teach? It is right here.

Here is what current students are saying:

Carrie is all strengths. Seriously. She’s compassionate, funny, zesty, zany, insightful, honest, nurturing, sharp, and…Wow, that’s a lot of adjectives. But really, I couldn’t praise Carrie enough as a mentor. I’ve long respected her writing, but being talented at something doesn’t automatically mean you will be a great mentor. Carrie just happens to be one of those rare cases of extreme talent and excellent coaching. Aside from the specific feedback she offers, she also writes letters in response to the process letter and analyses. These letters have been so impactful for me as I writer that I plan to print them and hang them up. Creepy? Maybe. But they are so inspiring. And that, in the most long-winded way possible, is how I would summarize Carrie as a mentor—inspiring.

Look. Lying is Bad for Your Health and Authors Stink At It, No Matter What “Experts” Say Seriously. I know people lie all the time. I know these people get powerful, get fame, get money, get whatever...

[merry-melody]

long prompt i will eventually write

I present...fixing Misfits S3. (I will literally do anything but the work I have due in at this point.) 

So, S3 is...not great. 

Apart from my boi Curtis finally getting an episode of his own again, in the pro column; you’ve got dumb time-looping end, shit powers, limited ideas (I think every episode basically ends with ‘they killed the bad guy and buried them in the increasingly full forest!’, apart from the one where the bad guy was already dead.) Kelly getting farmed out from the group with Seth, Alisha getting dirt as far as character development goes (unless you count revelations that including AUs, she’s literally fucked every male lead. Really giving AT a meaty role there, not.), and Simon...idk, making faces at Rudy? Deciding on a murder-suicide pact? 

Fixing it clearly has one solution - make everybody gay! (Hear me out.)

So Curtis/Rudy? Since they got to be bf in S4 anyway (obvs the creators didn’t know they’d be writing out quite so many of the cast in the S3 finale as they did), here’s kind of an interesting pairing. 

Rudy’s pairings with women in this season are so much ‘been there, done that’ (’I’m insecure so I treat them like shit!’ Wow, groundbreaking.) as are his mystical STDs.  But he’s always suggested as being potentially bi, anyway, and specifically being into Curtis. 

It also continues the theme of Curtis having horrendous taste for dubcon relationships starting with him and Alisha; playing into what the girl in 3x2 says about him being a masochist. (I’ve only read like, one fic with this pairing, but I love that right away the author was like: let’s bring up that parallel, Curtis in 3x2 and 1x3 with a friend who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.) 

It could also be super interesting with the other dream S3 pairings like Kelly/Alisha - imagine the scene where he asks Alisha about how he was in the sack, where she’s implying Kelly’s better (which tbh, I’d believe - you’ve got the girls understanding girl’s bodies better parallel with how Curtis’ sex with Emma is better when he’s a girl; but also, I really think it’s a leap to go from 2x7 with Simon looking like he’s gonna cry post sex and horrified at being touched, and her sort of passively waiting for him to singlehandedly make sex successful to The Best Sex Ever.) 

Triple points, if you keep Nathan off-screen, or yank Sheehan away from the high art that distinguishes everyone’s post-Misfits careers (I’ve sat through The Good Doctor, Geostorm, and Inhumans; so I think I get some kind of medal for bravery, or at least self-hate) but have a Nathan/Simon pairing with the former  doing guest roles - you can have the cute Curtis/Simon psychiatrist scene with even more depth! Gives Curtis a reason to talk with Simon about his ‘sexual confusion’ as Rudy terms it, since they don’t really have a ton in common otherwise. 

Also! You could have Curtis actually referencing Nikki. Like if you had Nathan offscreen but still a presence, presumably we wouldn’t have to pretend Nikki never existed. You could even have him saying ‘Don’t tell Nathan or Alisha or whoever’ (about his power) as he does in the episode itself, as 

a) a parallel to the only other conversation Curtis and Simon had, in 1x5 and 

b) some kind of residual bitterness. 

(The bullet hitting Nikki was due to Nathan ducking because Simon warns him he’s mortal, and the gunman’s aim then shifting. Totally unfair to expect anyone to do anything different there, but there we go…given Curtis a reason not to discuss her with the group and why he’s got a ‘cloud’ over his head, bickety-bam.) 

Kelly/Alisha so S3 has Alisha taking over Kelly’s role with an empathic power, but this is the season where the meaning behind any of these powers gets stripped. 

So instead of just randomly using it when she needs to see where someone is; this could have been really interesting character development – Kelly started off as someone who cared what people thought, hence why she got her original power; but she also cared about people in general from the beginning, so her power didn’t help her becoming more empathic so much as soured her on people by hearing their negative thoughts. 

Alisha didn’t really care much about people beyond herself in the beginning. 

We never got an exploration into her beyond how men react to her (even in the Nazi AU; they rely on how Shaun’s forcing her into sex, the one pattern they seem to fixate on with her) but it could have been really interesting to see her develop unwillingly due to seeing through other people’s eyes, even a commentary on a meta-level on how reliant the earlier seasons were on the male gaze of her; and a good way to do that is to draw a parallel with Kelly’s previous power. 

(Having her begin the season outside of an established relationship, and exploring a new take on her sexuality could also be interesting, since the Xmas episode briefly touches on her being able to have some kind of normal life and intimacy outside of sex, like Curtis holding her hand in an echo of 1x6, but really just boils down to furthering Simon/Alisha as a pair - we don’t find out how it affected her beyond this in terms of non-sexual intimacy, like whether the power worked on literally anyone: girls, children, family... Would she become touch-y, having missed it; or stay reserved, as her personality suggests?) 

It also brings Kelly back into the group where her pairing with Seth separated her. And without the Alisha/Simon pairing, you could get the return of Kelly and Simon’s friendship (since that got dropped in the wake of A/S and Kelly/Seth). 

Nathan/Simon wise... Simon kind of retraces Nathan’s steps in some ways in this season. His first vision is himself falling off a roof when practicing his parkour. He ends with the life/death loop, echoing Nathan’s old power. He’s the first to ‘see dead people’ in the finale, and for it to be Rachel is significant. 

Also...how much would you pay to see the horror on Sally’s face at that revelation? ‘How the hell did that happen?’, indeed. Since the dislike with her and Nathan was much more personal, and him being a ‘twat’ becoming her ‘in’ with Simon, and the video of him that she finds that ends with her death... You could have her and Rachel’s appearance having way more relevance, and you could retell the S/A resolution with N/S, or fuck, send ‘em back to Vegas. 

Kelly/Alisha! These two! Getting brunch. A pair that don’t need to be written out bloodily, or at least pointlessly - you could send them off on holiday together (Las Vegas, then Marrakech and Uganda.) 

Alisha getting a scene jacking in the bar job to parallel with Kelly quitting the cleaning at Xmas. 

You could switch up the scenes with the bodyswap in 3x5 from Alisha’s reaction to Simon’s weirdness in 3x3 to reacting to Jen being in Kelly’s body and going back to men by way of Dom. 

Curtis/Rudy the pregnancy storyline still works, you know Rudy’s be like ‘I’ll raise it!’ like he was with Jess, and telling Curtis how much he misses Melissa’s lovely pussy, to Curtis’ disgust. 

Quadruple points - make it a plot point how useless the powers are, like what if Seth’s capped them. Could even be a more villainous figure, what with him forcing Curtis to resurrect his ex (which could be a lead in of Curtis telling Rudy why he mistrusts Seth, and mentioning Nikki; which is referred to as occuring offscreen in S4)  

[takebackthedream]

Workers Need Better Trade Deals, Not More Talk by Leo Gerard

President Donald Trump, author of “The Art of the Deal,” said this week that China is giving American workers and companies a crummy one. He promised to do something about it.

This occurred within days of his Commerce Secretary, Wilbur Ross, demanding “fair, free and reciprocal” trade in an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal.

At the same time, Congressional Democrats offered a seven-point plan to give workers what they called “A Better Deal on Trade and Jobs.”

American workers want all of these proposals achieved. They’ve heard this stuff before and supported it then.  That includes ending tax breaks for corporations that offshore jobs – something that never happened. It includes the promise to confront China over its steel and aluminum overcapacity – a pledge followed by delay.

Talk is cheap. Jobs are not. The factory anchoring a community’s tax base is not. America’s industrial strength in times of uncertainty is not. All the talk is useless unless workers get some action.

President Trump is expected to announce within days the launch of an investigation into China forcing American corporations to transfer technology to the Asian giant’s companies as a price of doing business there.

The technology transfer boosts China’s goal of becoming the leading manufacturer within a decade in high-tech areas such as semiconductors, robots, and artificial intelligence. In addition to seizing American research and know-how, Beijing advantages its technology companies by granting them government cash.

This is the kind of unfair competition that Secretary Ross talks about in his Wall Street Journal op-ed. Under so-called free trade rules, governments aren’t supposed to subsidize industry or demand that foreign investors fork over research.

These kinds of violations, not just with China but with other trading partners as well, have occurred for decades now. And the upshot for American workers is lost jobs and stagnant wages.

More than 5 million American manufacturing jobs disappeared between 1997 and 2014. Most of these vanished, according to the Economic Policy Institute (EPI), because of growing U.S. trade deficits with countries like Mexico and China that had negotiated trade and investment deals with the United States.

The United States’ massive trade deficit with China alone accounted for 3.4 million jobs lost between 2001 and 2015, with 2.6 million of those in manufacturing, according to EPI research.

While offshoring manufacturing has often padded corporate profits, it has suppressed wages in the United States and in trading partner countries like Mexico. United Technologies (UT) is a good example.

UT moved to Mexico this year its Electronic Controls unit, which manufactures microprocessors for heating, ventilation and air conditioning (HVAC) equipment. UT did this even though its 700 American workers had produced consistent profits for UT at a factory in Huntington, Ind. UT also moved a big chunk of its profitable Carrier HVAC manufacturing from Indianapolis to Mexico this year. UT’s stock price rose, so the already-rich who have cash to invest, made out.

They did it on the backs of workers in the United States and Mexico, however. The move to Mexico rendered jobless more than 1,000 skilled American workers. Studies show that if they’re lucky enough to land new employment, the pay will be substantially less.

Mexican workers gained the jobs, but the pay they’re getting is little better than before NAFTA. More than half of Mexicans still live below the poverty line, a figure no different than before NAFTA. The New York Times cited this case: “For 10 years, Jorge Augustín Martínez has driven a forklift for Prolec, a joint venture with General Electric that makes transformers. A father of two, he earns about $100 for a six-day workweek.”

Mexican wages have remained stagnant for a decade.

In the United States, wages have been flat for longer – several decades.

This as corporate profits rise, the stock market skyrockets and CEO pay surges limitlessly.

Trade deals worked great for the already-rich, CEOs and corporations. They’ve crushed workers.

So it’s encouraging that both President Trump and the Democrats are talking about solutions.

The president is right. American corporations shouldn’t have to transfer technology to China to operate there. The United States doesn’t require that of Chinese companies manufacturing here. No such demand was made of Foxconn when it agreed to build a $10 billion factory in Wisconsin last week – though it is true that Wisconsin Republicans plan to force the state’s taxpayers to contribute $3 billion toward the plant, nearly a third of the total cost.

And the Democrats are right about every point in their “Better Deal” plan. Workers need an independent trade cop they can turn to for quick results to combat trade violations before they cost Americans jobs. Corporations like UT and Rexnord should be penalized when they offshore and when they seek government contracts. Corporations that restore jobs to the United States should be rewarded.

So do it. And don’t procrastinate like the administration is doing on its investigation of the national security threat posed to the United States by steel and aluminum overproduction in China. The report in that case originally promised for June 30 now has been indefinitely delayed. Each day’s wait means more American workers without jobs as illegally subsidized, grossly underpriced Chinese steel and aluminum floods the international market.

America’s highly skilled, dedicated steel and aluminum workers perform their jobs faithfully every day with the expectation that their government will enforce international trade regulations. They also expect their government to support their right to join together and collectively bargain for better wages and benefits. As right-wingers have eroded workers’ bargaining rights over the past half century, unions have declined, and with them, workers’ ability to secure raises. This is true in Mexico too, where there are virtually no legitimate, worker-run unions.

Timothy A. Wise, a research fellow at Tufts University, put it this way to the New York Times: “Mexico is seeing exactly the same phenomenon as in the United States. Workers have declining bargaining power on both sides of the border.”

To ensure there are no more crummy trade deals, workers must be at the table when these pacts are negotiated. To get better wages, workers in all the countries involved in these deals – from China to Mexico to the United States – must be able to form real, worker-controlled labor organizations to bargain with corporations.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: The Essential Egon Schiele

Egon Schiele, “Eduard Kosmack” (1910), black chalk, watercolor, and opaque white, Albertina (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic)

VIENNA — The Albertina’s astounding retrospective of Egon Schiele’s drawings, selected largely from the museum’s own collection, comes as close to a totalizing experience of this artist’s damned, meteoric vision as we’re likely to get.

Once Vienna’s least-favorite son, Schiele is now the embodiment of the cultural, political, and sexual convulsions that ripped Europe apart in the opening decades of the 20th century — flash points that continue to ignite through the present day. His preternaturally relevant imagery challenges and discomforts the contemporary eye to such an extent that its initial effect on the viewers of his own time is all but unimaginable, but not undocumented: he was, in fact, thrown in jail over what he chose to depict and whom he allowed to see it.

That’s the simplified version — the actual story, which involved unfounded accusations fomented by the scandalized villagers of Neulengbach, 30 miles due west of Vienna, where Schiele drew nude studies of underaged models and openly consorted with his lover, Walburga (“Wally”) Neuzil, is much more complicated.

After he was cleared of the more serious charges, that of kidnapping and abusing a 13-year-old runaway girl, he was sentenced to three days in prison for, as stated in the complaint, “failing to keep erotic nudes in a sufficiently safe place.” Schiele did not commit an offense by making the drawings; it was his habit of leaving them out in the open, where children were able to view them, that did him in. The authorities confiscated 125 drawings and a burned one in a symbolic gesture that the artist, in his prison diary, called an “auto-da-fé.”

Egon Schiele, “‘Prisoner!’” (April 24, 1912), pencil and watercolor, Albertina

Before serving his sentence, Schiele spent 21 days in jail awaiting trial, and during that time he made his famed prison drawings, several of which are on display — images ranging from matter-of-fact observation to chilling abjection. But his controversial drawings of children are also included in the exhibition, taking up the better part of a large room and raising crucial questions about shades of exploitation and the limits of candor.

As the gallery’s wall text notes:

Whereas Schiele depicted boys without any attempt at eroticization, he did sexualize his female nudes: the representation of the female body is always erotic and seems to establish a rapport with the observer, as if a secret pact had been struck between the young seductress and the seduced spectator. In these nudes, everything is arranged to achieve the effect that its contemplation was intended to trigger. Defiantly breaking the taboos of the day, these works show the repressed sexuality of children in an openly aggressive manner.

This explanation smacks of an attempt to aestheticize a transgressive act that should be left to its dank, unsettling squirminess. The relativism of “seductress” and “seduced” is too symmetrical; the connection in the drawings is exclusively one of artist and model, with the shrapnel of subterranean desire ricocheting between them. Schiele himself addressed the issue, also on hand as a wall text, far more directly:

Have adults forgotten how corrupt, sexually driven and aroused they were as children? — Have they forgotten how the frightful passion burned and tortured them when they were children? — I have not forgotten, for I have suffered terribly under it.

The characterization of children as “corrupt, sexually driven and aroused” smacks against contemporary sensibilities with a cold shudder, a shocking assertion that Schiele immediately owns (“I have not forgotten”). His drawings of prepubescent and adolescent boys and girls, made concurrently with the emergence of Sigmund Freud’s theories of psychosexual development, are clear-eyed if perturbing reflections of an artist being ruthlessly honest with himself.

The show begins with a charcoal self-portrait from 1906, before Schiele began his studies at Vienna’s Academy of Fine Arts, and it quickly becomes evident that he nailed down his razor-edge approach to pencil drawing by the time he was 20.

Egon Schiele, “Nude Girl with Folded Arms” (1910), black chalk and watercolor, Albertina

The figure, nude and clothed, dominates his aesthetic with an almost aberrant single-mindedness, with raw sex coming in as a close second. The painfully elongated, explicitly frontal “Nude Girl with Folded Arms” from 1910 is one early declaration of intent, while another, tamer work from the same year, a portrait of the Viennese publisher Eduard Kosmack, who once embarked on a failed attempt to produce a portfolio of Schiele’s erotic drawings, features the brushed white outline that the artist used occasionally throughout his career to isolate the figure from the ground.

Schiele worked quick and dirty. A close examination of his surfaces discovers no erasures, and his many stylistic quirks, such as the lacerating strokes denoting musculature and the squiggles indicative of body hair, are less observational details than they are notational shorthand for the artist’s overriding attraction to/repulsion from the animalistic nature of the human body. For the most part, his nudes are rank, bristly, and bruised, animated corpses whose life force emanates from their genitals.

The greatness of Schiele’s art lies in his drawings and not in his paintings, which are frequently overworked, overwrought, and laden with allegory — a reversal of material expectations more suited to the early 2000s than the early 1900s. The spontaneous interactions between the sitter and the artist are recorded with unsurpassable immediacy. There is no hesitation and no going back.

Egon Schiele, “Seated Nude Girl” (1910), pencil, chalk, watercolor, and gouache, Albertina

The humility and relative incompleteness of these works (there is almost never a background behind the figure) are decidedly unheroic at a time when art was gearing up to revolutionize the world. In light of Gustav Klimt’s glittering decadence and Kazimir Malevich’s seismic Suprematism, Schiele’s art is unapologetically human. It is also highly complex.

The nudes may be what first catch our attention, but Schiele was also an extraordinarily perceptive portraitist who was able to exchange his ravenous carnality for an atmosphere of sympathy, calm, and mutual respect. That does not preclude sensuality (I would put my vote on his 1914 drawing of Friederike Maria Beer, with its caressing contours and limpid eyes, as the most beautiful portrait of the early 20th century), but it is a sensuality that is almost heartbreakingly sublimated.

One unanticipated aspect of Schiele’s personality is his devotion to the spartan life and transcendental teachings of Francis of Assisi. In 1911, Schiele planned an allegorical cycle dedicated to Francis and his sister Clara, and was able to finish three paintings before his legal troubles began in 1912. The exhibition includes four drawings from 1913 evidently intended to continue the cycle: “Devotion”; “Redemption”; “Two Men”; and “The Truth Has Been Unveiled.”

These works constitute a rare instance of Schiele injecting a narrative into his drawings. Still, they are of a piece with the rest of the oeuvre, depicting semi-nude men in rough shirts or cloaks but no trousers. The two men of “Two Men” are naked from the waist down and hold each other in an unmistakably homosexual embrace.

Egon Schiele, “Nude Self-Portrait, Grimacing” (1910), pencil, charcoal, and gouache, Albertina

Any dissonance between the spiritual and the sexual does not seem to have occurred to Schiele: one was a manifestation of the other, for good or ill. In an essay written for the exhibition’s lavish catalogue, Johann Thomas Ambrózy argues for an ethical reading of Schiele’s work, positing that the stylistic details “unexpectedly prove to be linked to ethical themes”:

For example, it appears there are more than aesthetic reasons for the extremely enhanced expressivity in the composition of many of his depictions of bodies, especially in works on paper from the years 1913-14, where the skin is covered with downright disgusting spots of paint evocative of decomposition and putrefaction. Indeed these depictions actually seem to be inspired by a specific image of leprosy in an ethical context: a book with legends about Saint Francis of Assisi and his followers, from which Schiele culled a number of ideas for his allegorical works on paper, includes an illustration featuring a leper tended to by Francis, which likely inspired Schiele to his “leprous” style.

Schiele,  according to one of the exhibition’s wall texts, “regarded Francis as an antagonist of materialism. He interprets the monastic asceticism of the saint as a criticism of the luxury in the Fin de Siècle in Vienna. […] Schiele shared many traits with Francis of Assisi: his religious love of nature, his love of freedom, his contempt of money, and his kindness.”

The entrenched contrariness that Schiele demonstrated toward his times could have turned him in the public imagination into the archetypal, misunderstood starving artist, flaming out young and appreciated only after his death. The exquisite nastiness of his art can probably be thanked for saving him from becoming a cliché, the Viennese Vincent van Gogh.

The truth of the matter is that he reached a modicum of commercial success in the last year of his life, which was ended by the 1918 Spanish influenza, the epidemic that first took his mentor Gustav Klimt and then his pregnant wife, Edith, two weeks before his own death. But the works in the final room of the exhibition seem to have run out of steam — beautiful and accomplished, as in the portraits of the young sisters Maria and Eva Steiner, but also serene and respectable.

It’s astounding to consider that most of the work covered by the show was done in a mere eight years. Schiele thrived on conflict, much of it internal; these drawings are the trail he left behind as he tore through his anxieties and rages with a visceral abandon — none more tellingly than in “Nude Self-Portrait, Grimacing” from 1910, the earliest stage of his career.

In this blistering, grotesquely distorted image, the artist twists his arms and buckles his body as if he were Gregor Samsa, in the tale Franz Kafka would publish five years later, on the verge of becoming a bug. His hair is transformed into dark, licking flames, his genitals resemble a vulva, and his eyes are shut tightly behind ivory-white eyelids. A close inspection reveals that the lids were once wide-open pupils that Schiele scraped off.

In the whirlwind of his short life, Schiele became the character we encounter every morning in the mirror: moral and ethical, wanton and perverse, self-loathing and repugnant, sensual and free. He burned himself out along with others in his wake. You would be hard pressed to find a more careworn face than Edith Schiele’s in a portrait from 1917.

The moment that stability and success appeared within his grasp was the moment he died. His last words, recorded on the gallery wall, were “Der Krieg ist aus — und ich muss geh’n” (“The war is over — and I must go”).

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Egon Schiele continues at the Albertina (Albertinaplatz 1, Vienna, Austria) through June 18.

The post The Essential Egon Schiele appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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