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route22ny · 5 years ago

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*Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

Pretty soon, as the country begins to figure out how we “open back up” and move forward, very powerful forces will try to convince us all to get back to normal. (That never happened. What are you talking about?) Billions of dollars will be spent on advertising, messaging, and television and media content to make you feel comfortable again. It will come in the traditional forms — a billboard here, a hundred commercials there — and in new-media forms: a 2020–2021 generation of memes to remind you that what you want again is normalcy. In truth, you want the feeling of normalcy, and we all want it. We want desperately to feel good again, to get back to the routines of life, to not lie in bed at night wondering how we’re going to afford our rent and bills, to not wake to an endless scroll of human tragedy on our phones, to have a cup of perfectly brewed coffee, and simply leave the house for work. The need for comfort will be real, and it will be strong. And every brand in America will come to your rescue, dear consumer, to help take away that darkness and get life back to the way it was before the crisis. I urge you to be well aware of what is coming.

For the last hundred years, the multibillion-dollar advertising business has operated based on this cardinal principle: Find the consumer’s problem and fix it with your product. When the problem is practical and tactical, the solution is “as seen on TV” and available at Home Depot. Command strips will save me from having to repaint. So will Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Elfa shelving will get rid of the mess in my closet. The Ring doorbell will let me see who’s on the porch if I can’t take my eyes off Netflix. But when the problem is emotional, the fix becomes a new staple in your life, and you become a lifelong loyalist. Coca-Cola makes you: happy. A Mercedes makes you: successful. Taking your kids to Disneyland makes you: proud. Smart marketers know how to highlight what brands can do for you to make your life easier. But brilliant marketers know how to rewire your heart. And, make no mistake, the heart is what has been most traumatized this last month. We are, as a society, now vulnerable in a whole new way.

What the trauma has shown us, though, cannot be unseen. A carless Los Angeles has clear blue skies as pollution has simply stopped. In a quiet New York, you can hear the birds chirp in the middle of Madison Avenue. Coyotes have been spotted on the Golden Gate Bridge. These are the postcard images of what the world might be like if we could find a way to have a less deadly daily effect on the planet. What’s not fit for a postcard are the other scenes we have witnessed: a health care system that cannot provide basic protective equipment for its frontline; small businesses — and very large ones — that do not have enough cash to pay their rent or workers, sending over 16 million people to seek unemployment benefits; a government that has so severely damaged the credibility of our media that 300 million people don’t know who to listen to for basic facts that can save their lives.

The cat is out of the bag. We, as a nation, have deeply disturbing problems. You’re right. That’s not news. They are problems we ignore every day, not because we’re terrible people or because we don’t care about fixing them, but because we don’t have time. Sorry, we have other shit to do. The plain truth is that no matter our ethnicity, religion, gender, political party (the list goes on), nor even our socioeconomic status, as Americans we share this: We are busy. We’re out and about hustling to make our own lives work. We have goals to meet and meetings to attend and mortgages to pay — all while the phone is ringing and the laptop is pinging. And when we get home, Crate and Barrel and Louis Vuitton and Andy Cohen make us feel just good enough to get up the next day and do it all over again. It is very easy to close your eyes to a problem when you barely have enough time to close them to sleep. The greatest misconception among us, which causes deep and painful social and political tension every day in this country, is that we somehow don’t care about each other. White people don’t care about the problems of black America. Men don’t care about women’s rights. Cops don’t care about the communities they serve. Humans don’t care about the environment. These couldn’t be further from the truth. We do care. We just don’t have the time to do anything about it. Maybe that’s just me. But maybe it’s you, too.

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause. It is, in a word, profound. Please don’t recoil from the bright light beaming through the window. I know it hurts your eyes. It hurts mine, too. But the curtain is wide open. What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views. At no other time, ever in our lives, have we gotten the opportunity to see what would happen if the world simply stopped. Here it is. We’re in it. Stores are closed. Restaurants are empty. Streets and six-lane highways are barren. Even the planet itself is rattling less (true story). And because it is rarer than rare, it has brought to light all of the beautiful and painful truths of how we live. And that feels weird. Really weird. Because it has… never… happened… before. If we want to create a better country and a better world for our kids, and if we want to make sure we are even sustainable as a nation and as a democracy, we have to pay attention to how we feel right now. I cannot speak for you, but I imagine you feel like I do: devastated, depressed, and heartbroken.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and J. Crew and Gwyneth Paltrow to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte with two pumps of syrup, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not ruinous. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin.

And so the onslaught is coming. Get ready, my friends. What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again. It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels. And on top of that, just to turn the screw that much more, will be the one effort that’s even greater: the all-out blitz to make you believe you never saw what you saw. The air wasn’t really cleaner; those images were fake. The hospitals weren’t really a war zone; those stories were hyperbole. The numbers were not that high; the press is lying. You didn’t see people in masks standing in the rain risking their lives to vote. Not in America. You didn’t see the leader of the free world push an unproven miracle drug like a late-night infomercial salesman. That was a crisis update. You didn’t see homeless people dead on the street. You didn’t see inequality. You didn’t see indifference. You didn’t see utter failure of leadership and systems.

But you did. You are not crazy, my friends. And so we are about to be gaslit in a truly unprecedented way. It starts with a check for $1,200 (Don’t say I never gave you anything) and then it will be so big that it will be bigly. And it will be a one-two punch from both big business and the big White House — inextricably intertwined now more than ever and being led by, as our luck would have it, a Marketer in Chief. Business and government are about to band together to knock us unconscious again. It will be funded like no other operation in our lifetimes. It will be fast. It will be furious. And it will be overwhelming. The Great American Return to Normal is coming.

From one citizen to another, I beg of you: Take a deep breath, ignore the deafening noise, and think deeply about what you want to put back into your life. This is our chance to define a new version of normal, a rare and truly sacred (yes, sacred) opportunity to get rid of the bullshit and to only bring back what works for us, what makes our lives richer, what makes our kids happier, what makes us truly proud. We get to Marie Kondo the shit out of it all. We care deeply about one another. That is clear. That can be seen in every supportive Facebook post, in every meal dropped off for a neighbor, in every Zoom birthday party. We are a good people. And as a good people, we want to define — on our own terms — what this country looks like in five, 10, 50 years. This is our chance to do that, the biggest one we have ever gotten. And the best one we’ll ever get.

We can do that on a personal scale in our homes, in how we choose to spend our family time on nights and weekends, what we watch, what we listen to, what we eat, and what we choose to spend our dollars on and where. We can do it locally in our communities, in what organizations we support, what truths we tell, and what events we attend. And we can do it nationally in our government, in which leaders we vote in and to whom we give power. If we want cleaner air, we can make it happen. If we want to protect our doctors and nurses from the next virus — and protect all Americans — we can make it happen. If we want our neighbors and friends to earn a dignified income, we can make that happen. If we want millions of kids to be able to eat if suddenly their school is closed, we can make that happen. And, yes, if we just want to live a simpler life, we can make that happen, too. But only if we resist the massive gaslighting that is about to come. It’s on its way. Look out.

https://forge.medium.com/prepare-for-the-ultimate-gaslighting-6a8ce3f0a0e0

#covid19 #return to normalcy #social manipulation #everything is broken #julio vincent gambuto

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lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love · 4 years ago

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Crimson and Clover: Chapter 2

Notes: I mean no disrespect by writing or posting this, and in no way do I take the themes and topics discussed in this series lightly. So if you’re triggered by any of this, I suggest not reading it.

-> ->This story was suggested by @idk123906!<- <-

This story may not be 100% accurate with certain things, and I apologize for that but this is fiction.

Message me or leave an ask if you want to be tagged!

I don’t own any of the gifs/pictures used here.

Pairing(s)/Characters: Chris Evans x Undercover!FBI!Reader (slow burn), Yolanda Carillo

Chapter Description: It takes some time, but you find a credible acting coach, a woman named Yolanda Carillo. But you also try and find some back-up coaches, just in case.

Warnings: None????

Masterlist: Click Here

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Word Count: 587

You spend the rest of your lunch break searching the Internet for credible acting coaches. It seems like none of them are catching your interest. Which is unfortunate, considering the time crunch you’re on. When you make your way back to work, you feel a sense of irritation. You’ll probably have to be less picky with your options. But you still want someone who knows what they’re doing, and that’s where you find yourself in a bit of a pickle. You’re so picky, you can’t even compromise with yourself.

———————————///———————————

By the end of the day, you’re thoroughly exhausted. You couldn’t focus on your work after lunch, and that only got you more irritated. Your mind kept going back to the whole acting coach situation, then to what Colin said earlier. Why in the hell would he recommend you for a job like this? Everything about it seems so complicated, and you’re starting to wonder if you can pull it off. Posing as an actress for God knows how long, while secretly getting information on a stalker while simultaneously trying to take him down before he does anything dangerous? No pressure.

The one thing you know you’ll feel guilt over is the relationships you’ll build with the actors and actresses. You know it’s your job to get people comfortable around you so you can get intel, but you still feel bad about it. It makes forming actual, genuine relationships difficult, if not impossible, for you. Your job is literally lying to people and forming fake relationships so you can get what you want, so you eventually had to give up on wanting relationships outside of work. You were always second guessing yourself, and you’d feel the relationship was forced, that you couldn’t tell if your feelings were real or not.

Groaning, you throw yourself on your couch. You’re always overthinking everything. It’s a bad habit. One of your many bad habits. You’ve barely been home an hour and you’re already putting yourself in a bad mood. You snort, rolling onto your side, facing your television. It’s off. After coming home, you spent half an hour showering and the remaining time just trying to find something to keep you occupied. Except you couldn’t think of anything. You could make yourself a quick dinner, but you didn’t have anything worth eating (or even throwing together in a quick, microwaved dinner). So after laying on the couch for a good fifteen minutes, you decide to keep looking for an acting coach. If you’re not going to eat, and if you truly want to keep yourself occupied, then researching a good instructor is your best option.

Sitting up, you go into your bedroom and grab your laptop. Sitting on your bed, you open your computer and sign in. You start researching coaches in the area, looking at their information and pricing, not particularly impressed. It takes only an hour before you find a potential coach, a woman named Yolanda Castillo. Her price is reasonable and she has a lot of experience. Not to mention she looks pleasant in her photo. You decide to write down her name and information before continuing your search. You’ll try and keep an open mind with these other coaches, but you want to make sure you consider the ones who are offering reasonable prices and have enough experience that you’ll feel comfortable.

So you keep going, hoping you’ll find some other potentials. God knows you’ll need as much help as possible to get through this damn job.

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zhanenaomi · 4 years ago

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It must be exhausting to be so weird all the time

Earlier, I saw a clip on the BBC Facebook page of Original Flava (a British-Caribbean duo creating recipes), making some bbq jerk burgers. As is my bad habit, I checked the comments for the inevitable racist comment about the BBC trying to be “woke” for showing people that black people exist in the UK. There I found a random account, posting a youtube clip of the late Dame Vera Lynn singing ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. This comment was obviously in reference to the fact that the BBC recently announced that ‘Rule Britannia’ and ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ would be performed without words at the Proms (only for this year). This, again obviously, is the fault of all black people (including Original Flava) and absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact that we are in a global pandemic of a virus that is easily spread by loud singing. The thing that disturbs me most about these comments is less the blanket assumption that all black people just sit around foaming at the mouth at the sheer idea of colonial lyricism, and more that this random person had clearly just copied the link to this video to post on any video they saw with a black person in it. Whether that video was about black people barbecuing, black people singing, black people talking about the economy, they were ready to own us with a youtube video of a song literally none of us will click on and listen to. It just made me think, surely it is exhausting to be so weird all the time?

Now, comments like this are admittedly pretty harmless, especially given the fact that they present that the person commenting is much more hurt than anyone else in this situation. However, by far the most disturbing thing I saw in the BBC comments that day, was on a Children in Need post. BBC Children in Need announced that they would specifically be donating £10 million to black children (a thing that is reasonably necessary given that 46% of BAME children live in poverty) (also this will be going over the course of 10 years, not a one time payment). By all intents and purposes, it is highly likely that vast amounts of Children in Need money were already going to black communities, given they go to… British children that are in need. The post in question was clarifying on false reports that they were giving money directly to the Black Lives Matter organisation, and in response many people said that since the BBC were now giving money to black children, they would no longer give money to the BBC. This, despite the fact that Children in Need fundraises year-round, and raised almost £50 million during their official appeal night last year and has raised more than £1 billion since 1980, and so £10 million over ten years is likely a drop in the ocean for this organisation. Way to throw your toys out of the pram, right guys? “If disadvantaged black kids are getting my money, then no disadvantaged kids are getting my money”! What a bizarre world view to have! It must take up a lot of time and energy to not only decide that giving money to disadvantaged children of colour in a country where they’re more likely to be disadvantaged than white children is racist for some reason, but then also to camp out in random Facebook comment sections talking about how you hate this alleged racism so much that you will be boycotting a charity because of it. Remarkably wild. Amazingly wild. Incredibly wild.

The last Facebook comment section weirdness I want to talk about is the reaction to news involving arrests, crime, and police brutality, most specifically the “If you do nothing wrong, the police will leave you alone” argument. First of all, tell that to yer man Harry Maguire. Second of all, there is police data stating that between March and May, you know, those months when we were knee deep in the throes of a global pandemic that is disproportionately killing black people, 21,950 stops and searches on young black men were carried out in the capital, approximately 80% of which lead to no further action. So if we’re keeping score, not only is the most expensive defender in the world not exempt from being harassed by police when his account suggests no wrongdoing on his part, but around 18,000 young black men were put directly in harms way by being searched by police without masks (and obviously without social distancing) in the midst of a pandemic, for no crime other than being black and maybe having a nice car. The reason I bring up Harry Maguire is because I would assume that most British people believe and support Harry Maguire over the Greek police, and none of them would ever use the “no crime, no police intervention” argument towards a news story about him. You know, like they did when George Floyd died. The point here is that people in these comments like to pretend that they are indiscriminate. They like to say “I don’t care if you’re rich, poor, black, white, gay, straight (insert identity here), if you’re getting arrested you must have done something wrong” which is simply just not true, and the fact that you don’t say these things when a white British footballer is brutally arrested is very telling. It shows who you assume to have being “doing crime” when they were apprehended versus who you assume to be innocent until proven guilty. Because the fact of the matter is that you DO care whether someone is black or white or poor or rich and the like, you obviously do. And its weird to lie about it to save face in Facebook comments. Ain’t you tired, Miss Hilly? (I’m assuming you all understand that reference given the unnecessarily large amounts of people who rushed to watch The Help after the BLM protests began earlier this year).

These things are all interconnected, because I’m sure that these keyboard warriors had some similarly angry takes when Stormzy offered scholarships to black students aiming to go to Cambridge University, and love to talk about “black on black crime” when black people are invited onto news outlets to talk about institutional racism in the police force. What this comes down to, is a clear lack of critical thinking and a clear racial bias. We know that crimes like theft and drug dealing tend to be crimes of necessity. No one steals bread and milk for the “thrill of the chase”. Poverty and crime are intrinsically linked. So why are you so hellbent on preventing black people from receiving assistance to escape poverty? If you want crime to reduce, then you should also want poverty to reduce, this is just the truth. If you don’t see how crime in black communities links to socioeconomic status in these black communities, then you probably (consciously or unconsciously) believe that nothing can be done to help black people; we are just inherently bad, born with a criminal gene. Suffice to say, this is a racist thought to have. Even when black people do manage to “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps” this also does not mean we’ll be treated favourably by the general public. The nation’s favourite punching bag is a black woman who was born into a low income household, attended Cambridge University, worked in the Civil Service and became the first black female MP in this country; this is of course Diane Abbott, who unfortunately receives half of all the abuse sent to female MPs overall.

Although I started out joking about how these people are just weird, the more I write, the more uncomfortable I feel. Is there a way out? Is there anyway we can win? Is our destiny to win the bet, just to be shot in the face by our loan sharks and have our proverbial jewellery shop ransacked (metaphor working on the assumption of your knowledge of the film Uncut Gems)? Its one thing to say weird things in video comments, it’s another to actually truly believe them. In the wake of the recent shooting of Jacob Blake, I’ve witnessed a spate of comments making statements about the case that are simply not true – things that have never been reported by the police or any credible news outlets. What do you gain from lying about these things? I guess you gain more public distrust in the black community and more animosity towards BLM protesters. I assume that’s what these people are aiming for, since I can see no personal benefit to lying about a case (unless you are the actual police officers involved in the shooting?). I actively try and stop myself from hopping into comment sections now because honestly and truly, it’s one of the most exhausting things to see hundreds of people talk about how bored they are of black people appearing on their screens. I’m sorry that my presence tires you out, guys. I’ve been staying off of Twitter because it’s good for my mental health to not be dialled into the ~discourse~ 24/7. It’s sad the way that these things often make black people feel that they are the ones who need to pull away in order to protect themselves. Dawn Butler has tweeted about how many young black women tell her they can’t see themselves pursuing a career in politics because of the sheer amount of hate they see black MPs receive. I want black children to receive financial support without fear that the rest of the world hates them for it. I want black people to get uni places and jobs without hearing others say that they got it because of their skin, rather than their merit and potential. I want black people to be present in the public eye without having to report racial abuse against them to the police on a weekly basis. The way that Britain works is that Britain has been and always will be, a multicultural nation. This is the result of the British Empire that we’re all oh so proud of. Therefore, (and this is not controversial to say), British people descended from individuals born in Empire nations deserve to live in Britain without constant apology for our existence, our actions, and our criticism of our government. Yeah, I bet its exhausting to act in such a bizarre way on social media. But imagine how tired we are.

References:

Children in Need is not donating £10 million to Black Lives Matter - https://fullfact.org/online/children-in-need-blm/?fbclid=IwAR0RfWtsHKxeFGv8PBrY64J-QoqpiEWb3Td1nPE9WvYvZXTuksIB3ZOET9k

BBC Children in Need’s 2019 Appeal raises an incredible £47.8 million - https://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/latestnews/2019/cin-total

Child poverty facts and figures - https://cpag.org.uk/child-poverty/child-poverty-facts-and-figures

Met carried out 22,000 searches on young black men during lockdown - https://www.theguardian.com/law/2020/jul/08/one-in-10-of-londons-young-black-males-stopped-by-police-in-may

Diane Abbott more abused than any other female MP during election - https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2017/sep/05/diane-abbott-more-abused-than-any-other-mps-during-election

#long post #politics #uk politics #british politics #blacklivesmatter #blm #blm uk #racism #antiblackness #police

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sparklyaxolotlstudent · 6 years ago

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Karma Chameleon Part 5

In which Marc keeps being awesome. Because he is.

And Adrien... doesn’t come up too well in this... Sorry to his fans!

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Marinette was exhausted. Hawkmoth had attacked Friday night –debut of Cocorico- and now Monday morning – Guest Starring Rena Rouge-. Did he not know weekends were sacred for a teenage girl? And now she had to deal with Lie-la and her lies. And the cold shoulder everyone else was giving her… except Nathaniel, Alya and Nino… and sort of Adrien. She was glad to have them (and Marc) on her side; otherwise, she was sure she would have been akumatized since the day Lie-la showed her sausage hair in class.

She remembered how she felt the first few days, how furious she was at how Lie-la had been all clingy and possessive of Adrien, even with him being clearly uncomfortable… but she had found herself less and less furious each day, especially after remembering that Adrien knew Lie-la was a lying liar who only lies… and kept quiet about it. She had tried talking to him about that, but he only kept saying some nonsense about taking the high road and how no one was being affected by her lies, which really didn’t sit well with Marinette. She was at least thankful that Marc hadn’t been present that time, or he would have kicked Adrien’s shapely butt into next Friday. Adrien’s passivity was a huge turn off, and while she still had her crush, it was harder to justify his actions –or rather, inactions- even if he was being affected personally.

She also missed talking with Alya all day, but had to admit that having Nathaniel as a bench mate wasn’t so bad. He was funny, and although he wasn’t very talkative, they communicated through silly doodles. They also had bet on how long would take Lie-la to claim to be Rena Rouge (she lasted a week, and see how that turned out), and they were counting her lies. Her record was 20 in a single day, including starting a rumor about Marinette and Nathaniel dating now. Marinette had been slightly amused, Nathaniel was a bit annoyed, but surprisingly, this particular lie had made the others more talkative.

Juleka approached their table at lunch. Marinette, Nathaniel, Marc, Alya and Nino were eating together. She asked them about the rumor (No doubt inquiring for her brother), just as Marc was drinking from his soda. The soda made a return trip through Marc’s nostrils and couldn’t stop laughing for a few minutes. After that, he was very overly dramatic, saying he wanted to be Marinette’s Dude of honor at her wedding with Nathaniel and other even more ridiculous stuff. Nathaniel was as red as his hair, and no one could contain their laughter.

Juleka got the joke, and after a phone call (which they were very sure was to Luka) she apologized to Marinette and Nathaniel for believing that rumor.

And then she got to school and the Lilakuma happened. By the time Marinette had returned from the locker rooms, the adults had done some damage control and had taken Lila to Mr. Damocles office, while giving them a little more of time to eat, since the Akuma attack had interrupted them, and they had to deal with Lila. Marinette was still amused that Lila’s name was technically “Lila Lola”, and even more amused that Chloe had used her bitch powers for good. Chaotic Good, but coming from Chloe, it was still something to comment about.

Marinette reached the cafeteria with Nathaniel (Alya was uploading the fight to the blog, and Nino was getting food for the both of them). To their surprise, Marc and Chloe were sitting together and talking in a civil manner. Marc waved to them.

“Hey guys! That fight was awesome! A shame Miss Mendeliev didn’t allow us to join you… But we were able to see everything from the windows!”

Marc was very excited and wasn’t even trying to hide it. Chloe looked amused at this over stimulated puppy she found herself with.

“Oh, I thought Chloe was awesome enough to sit with us, so I invited her” Marc said with a smirk. “Especially after taking out the Queen of Lies”

“Pfft, her lies weren’t all that good; a five year old could have come with better stuff.”

“Ah well, at most she was a duchess, I guess.”

“Whatever, I’m only having lunch with you guys because Sabrina is still grounded from siding with that Lie-la before” It was hard to tell, but Marinette couldn’t help but notice a hint of joy in Chloe’s words. Was she happy that Marc had invited her?

“What you did to Lila was wrong” said Marc in a deadpan tone. “You could have been meaner, Lila deserved it. ” He added with the biggest smile he could. If Chloe had been a closer friend, she probably would have been glomped into oblivion by the over excited puppy she found herself with.

“Thanks?” Chloe was clearly uncomfortable, but grateful. It was obvious she was struggling interacting with people in a normal way instead of her usual haughty self, but Marc seemed to be going extra friendly for her. It really helped that he had never been personally bullied by her. Marinette could even swear she heard Chloe actually laughing at one of Marc’s jokes, about Lila, but still.

By the end of lunch break, Chloe and Marinette had relaxed enough thanks to Marc, while Nathaniel was still his silent self –although he smiled and laughed a lot too. – The others saw the table with some wariness, as the sight of Marinette hanging out with Chloe was a bit disturbing, not to mention they still hadn’t recovered from the Lilakuma.

They returned to the classroom when Miss Bustier went for them to the cafeteria. Marinette looked around, and noticed some of her classmates were looking at them, trying to be inconspicuous of it. OF COURSE they were now realizing what kind of asses they had been. And probably were in awe of Chloe’s destructive powers. Not even a Cataclysm could have created such havoc.

Lila was of course nowhere to be seen, not even her things were in her seat. Adrien asked about her.

“Due to… her behavior… and the consequences it might carry, her mother decided that she will be attending another school… And grounded for a long time.”

“Is it true… that all she said were lies?”

“Unfortunately, yes. She never had tinnitus or a sprained wrist” Miss Bustier looked disappointed in Lila more than anything. The others understood the implications. Not only they had vanquished Marinette to the back for nothing, they had placed their trust on someone who didn’t deserve it, and had just played with them. Alya felt lucky that she had taken down Lila’s videos, Nino was glad he never got the time to make a demo for her. The whole class felt gloomy the rest of the day.

As the bell rang, the class went to the lockers to retrieve what they would need for the afternoon, and it was there that Adrien decided to approach Chloe.

“Chloe?”

“Yes Adrikins?”

“I can’t believe what you did to Lila! That was mean even for you!”

Marinette couldn’t help but turn to see them. The rest of the class that was still in the locker room also paid attention, even Alix, who seemed to be making amends to Nathaniel.

“What”

“I know she was lying, but her lies weren’t hurting anyone. It was wrong of you to call her out like that! And you even involved her mom and the teachers! I barely recognize you anymore.” The last part was said with a sad tone to it. Chloe was shocked to hear this. “I don’t think I can be your friend anymore”

“She just did what you didn’t have the guts to do” Marinette had never seen Marc as serious. “And for the record, she did threatened Chloe, so don’t even dare go with your ‘high road’ nonsense again”

“Again?” Chloe was confused. She seemed to have warmed a bit to Marc since lunch break.

“Adrien here has knew about Lila from the beginning, but unlike us, he didn’t deemed necessary to expose her”

“YOU KNEW?” Alya and Chloe reacted at the same time. Nino seemed shocked by this.

“Well… yes. When she claimed she was Ladybug’s friend, Ladybug herself appeared in front of us and yelled to her to stop lying.”

To everyone surprise, Chloe slapped Adrien. Not hard, but still it shocked everyone. Chloe’s eyes were watering, clearly trying to hold tears. She stared at Adrien’s shocked expression for a few second and then left, angry and confused. Marc and Sabrina went behind her.

“Be glad I’m more worried about Chloe than mad at you, Agreste!”

Adrien was about to protest, but found himself facing Alya and Nino.

“Adrien, you let Alya post Lila’s lies on her blog, potentially ruining her credibility, you let Rose write letters to Prince Ali, you let me get excited about meeting a famous director, and you say Chloe went too far? NOT COOL DUDE!”

“And just to be clear we are not blaming you for Lila ‘s lies, that was on her, and on us for believing them, but, seriously? We didn’t believe Marinette because we thought she was jealous. We didn’t believe Nathaniel because we thought he was acting on his crush on Marinette”

“I’m not crushing on her anymore” Protested Nathaniel weakly.

“Yeah, sorry about that… But Adrien, we wouldn’t have any reason to doubt you!”

“I just… Making a bad guy suffer has never turned them into a good guy.”

“Adrien, dude, I consider you my best friend, but that’s completely BS. By that logic, Ladybug should just stop fighting Hawkmoth!”

“That’s completely different! Lila’s lies were harming no one, and exposing her only made her become an akuma.”

“For the THIRD TIME. Even Ladybug said it was bound to happen sooner or later!”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me if they have to face her yet again sooner than later”

“Yeah, Adrien, I’m sorry, but I’m going to leave right now before I say something about you I MIGHT regret later or attract an akuma over that damn liar.”

The rest of the class agreed and left before anyone did anything else. Some shooting dirty looks to Adrien. Marinette looked sadly at Adrien, but before she could said anything, Adrien left, clearly annoyed.

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

Hopefully only one part left. Will Adrien change his ways? Will he be akumatized? Will people stop teasing Nathaniel over his crush on Marinette?

#miraculous ladybug #ml salt #adrien salt #marinette dupain-cheng #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #ml karma chameleon #ml fiction #ml fic

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starfast · 5 years ago

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Cross the Kingdom- Chapter 5

“The Clocktower”

Word Count: 4604

Read on Wattpad: Link

More about this project: Intro Post | Other Info

For a moment Kit thought he was still lying out in the streets. He could feel the cold, hard ground beneath him and getting hit in the head by the guard who was supposed to protect him was the last thing that he could clearly remember. When he looked around, he could see brick walls surrounding him, and a ceiling overhead. He noticed several gears and cogs that moved slowly, which initially lead him to believe that he might have been brought to some sort of factory. There was some additional credibility to the notion when he realized that the last thing he remembered was being in the Industrial District. But there were large round windows on each wall, which would have been out of place in a factory. The windows were only semi-transparent, and didn’t let much light in, which made them odder still. Nothing looked even a little bit familiar to him. Kit began to panic when he realized he couldn’t even guarantee that he was still in Galtia. He spotted his bag sitting in the corner of the room, the only thing that he did recognize.

Then he spotted a girl probably close to his age, sitting next to his bag. Black hair framed her pale white face as she read through the only book that Kit had thought to bring with him. Her striking blue eyes examined the page, completely unaware that Kit was watching her. Kit tried to call out, but his throat felt dry and he found himself struggling to make a sound. He cleared his throat and said, “What are you doing with my stuff?” His voice came out in a weak and hoarse tone, and was far less authoritative than he would have liked. Nonetheless, the girl put the book down and looked up at him.

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t realize you were awake.” She nodded towards the book and added, “It’s interesting stuff though. I didn’t know there were any copies left.”

“This is the only one as far as I know,” Kit said, “I’m going to have to ask for it back.” He realized that he probably should have kept his mouth shut. If the girl wanted to steal from him, it would be easy to sell the book off at a high price. Luckily, she just put it back into his bag, which came as both a surprise and a relief to Kit.

The book had been given to him by his father, just shortly after Kit had told him about his powers. The book was aptly titled ‘The Book of Powers’ and contained information about every documented ability. Most copies had been destroyed when the Patrol’s reign had been at its peak, but somehow the one copy survived and made its way into his father’s hands. Kit had read the pages about telekinesis several times, but he also liked to learn more about the wide variety of powers that could be found in Toltova.

Kit struggled to sit up. His head pounded and the room seemed to spin around him. He rubbed at his forehead trying to ease the pain, though it didn’t seem to work. His head still felt like someone had been pounding at it with a sledgehammer.

The girl watched him, before calmly asking, “You ok?”

“I’ll survive,” he replied, “But I have several questions.”

The girl shrugged, and said, “Ask away then, Your Highness.”

“Ok, first off, where am I?” He looked around the room, which was much smaller than he initially thought, still trying to look for something that looked vaguely familiar.

“You’re in the Galtia Clocktower,” the girl said.

Kit frowned, looking around the room. It made sense when he studied the room a little closer. It was not a very big room, for one thing. Certainly too small to be a factory as he’d initially thought. He’d never actually been inside the clocktower before, but he had a pretty good view of it from the window of his room back at the castle. It wasn’t built to be a spacious structure, and it showed from the inside of the tower. While the girl’s response certainly made sense to him, it raised even more questions.

“It was both the safest and closest place I could think to bring you,” the girl added, which answered at least one of his other questions. “I know some people in Galtia that I should have brought you too, but they live on the other side of town. I’m not sure I could have carried you that far.”

“But you carried me up to the top of the clocktower?” Kit asked, thinking aloud.

“I never said it was easy,” The girl said, “It was kind of more like I dragged you to the top of the clocktower. You weren’t fully unconscious, which made it slightly easier. But only slightly. You were still pretty out of it.”

“I see,” Kit said, satisfied with her response for the most part. He could still remember most of what had happened before he had come to his senses. The only part that left him puzzled was right before he had lost consciousness, he remembered the guard falling to the ground after his spear was yanked out of his hands by...who? Or what?. There hadn’t been anyone else around. It had just been Kit, and the guard. He dismissed it as his imagination. He had been barely conscious at that point. Perhaps someone else had been around and he just somehow didn’t notice.

“There’s something else I need to know, and you will--” He stopped and tried again, “You will be honest with me.” Kit wasn’t necessarily expecting an honest answer to his next question, but he needed to ask anyways. It was worth a shot at the very least.

“Fine,” The girl said in an unexpectedly calm tone.

“Are you working for my uncle?” Before she could answer he quickly added, “By the way, if you lie to me and I find out about it, I swear I will report you to my father and I’ll make sure that--”

“I’m not working for your uncle,” The girl said quickly, “On the contrary, I saved your life. I brought you here so that you’d be safe. Do you think that’s what your uncle would have wanted? He wants you dead. If I was working for him I would have had plenty of time to do the deed. But here you are, still alive. With all your stuff, I might add. Quite frankly, I’m a bit offended you had to ask.”

Kit pursed his lips. She did have a point, but he was still skeptical. “But you knew that my uncle wants me dead, and that’s suspicious to say the least.”

“I have my sources,” The girl said, flashing him a mysterious smile.

“Well, by all means do share them,” Kit demanded,“Because things aren’t looking good for you right now. So while we’re at it, who are you and what do you want with me?”

The girl stared back at him, evidently startled by his outburst. “My name is Audrey Winlar,” she said defensively. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“That doesn’t explain how you know everything,” Kit pointed out.

“Ok, ok,” Audrey said, “I live in this town in the mountains. It’s kind of been abandoned for a long time, but my friends and I moved in. There’s not many of us, so we kind of have to take on different roles to make sure that things are running smoothly. Part of what I do involves leaving the town every now and then to see what’s going on in the outside world.”

“So you’re a spy, basically,” Kit said.

“I guess you could call it that,” Audrey admitted, “But the other part of my job involves helping people like you out of dangerous situations and bringing them back to our town, where they’ll be safe.”

Kit narrowed his eyes. “So when you say people like me…?”

Audrey threw her hands up in frustration, “Do I really have to spell it out for you? People with powers. Abilities, whatever you want to call it.”

Kit was taken aback by her forwardness. She clearly knew who she was speaking to, yet she didn’t seem to care. Back at the castle, most people liked to suck up to him. They liked to be extra polite, and would compliment him on every little thing. It was as if they thought that he was too fragile to handle even the slightest insult. Alexander was the only one who dared to even speak out against him, though the way Audrey had spoken was different. It wasn’t a threat, it wasn’t even a direct insult. It had been a bit condescending, if anything.

“You... know about that?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Audrey said, “I’m a spy, right? We’d been hearing that there were some things going on in the castle, so my village sent me out to figure out what I could. I was there in gardens, Kit.”

Kit narrowed his eyes. He struggled to find the right words for a long time. “I…what? How did you…?”

Luckily, for all his stammering, Audrey was able to decipher what he was trying to say. “My powers make it really easy for me to get by unseen. Really, really easy, in fact.” Before Kit could question her any further, Audrey disappeared right before his eyes. She was there one moment, and in the blink of an eye she had vanished.

“Audrey, wait!” He called out, “What the-- where are you?”

“I’m still here,” Audrey replied with a giggle. The floorboards creaked as she walked across the small room. Kit could hear her footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. Finally, she stopped. Kit could feel her presence beside him but there was nothing to indicate that she was actually there. She poked him in the shoulder. “Do you understand now?”

“You’re invisible,” Kit gasped.

“Good observation,” Audrey said, re-appearing before him.

“Wow,” Kit marveled, “That’s quite incredible, actually.”

“Why thank you,” Audrey said, beaming with pride.

Kit leaned forward, resting his arm on top of his knees. “So what else do you know?”

“Certainly not as much as I would like,” Audrey admitted, “I know that your uncle wants you out of the way. I know about your mother’s powers--”

“You can’t tell anyone about that!” Kit interrupted.

“I won’t,” Audrey said, “I swear. I was also able to gather that your father and his brother… don’t exactly get along.”

“That’s quite the understatement,” Kit said, “They can’t stand to be in the same room most of the time.”

Audrey pursed her lips. “Interesting,” She remarked.

“How’s that interesting?” Kit asked, “Practically everyone in Toltova knows about that.”

“Yeah,” Audrey said, “I guess I just didn’t think it was that bad. He’s probably going to be looking for you, isn’t he?”

Kit furrowed his brows. He hadn’t quite thought of that. It did make sense though, that Alexander might be coming after him. He had already tried to get him once. Attempting a second time certainly wouldn’t be out of character.

“Maybe tomorrow we can get you out of here,” Audrey suggested before Kit could speak, “We could stay with my friends for a bit and when Frank passes through maybe I could take you to New Vellarton.”

“I’m sorry,” Kit said, “You want to take me where?”

“Back to my town,” Audrey explained, “The one that I was telling you about.”

“No!” Kit objected, “My parents wanted me to go to Morbane. It’ll be safer for me there. Besides, I can’t just go running off with random strangers!” He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “I’m sorry Audrey. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t.”

“I think you should consider it,” Audrey said, “I don’t think Morbane is necessarily the safest place to be.”

“You don’t know that,” Kit countered, “Morbane is one of the safest places to be along the coast. I’ll be fine.”

“No, Kit, please listen to me,” Audrey snapped, “Morbane is littered with members of the Patrol. They like to congregate there for whatever reason. They don’t usually take people from around there, but when they do it’s easy for them just to blame the pirates.”

“The Patrol?” Kit repeated, “So they are back. My father’s been trying to crack down on those rumours.”

“So I’ve heard,” Audrey said, “Hasn’t been successful, has he?”

“I’m afraid not,” Kit sighed, “He’s been trying to find a pattern, so that he can figure out where they’ll strike next because it’s seemingly random. It’s impossible to tell. A lot of people are just telling him to give it up.” An idea struck him. “Audrey, if I could prove that they’re real--”

“No,” Audrey said, immediately shutting him down before he could fully explain his plan. “Don’t go looking for them, Kit. They’re horrible people, and if they find out you have powers-- If that news spreads, they’re not going to give you any special privileges just because you’re the Prince.”

“That’s not what I was going to suggest,” Kit huffed, “And I don’t expect people to give me special privileges just because I’m the Prince.”

“Yes you do,” Audrey asked smirking, “You can barely go two minutes without reminding people that you’re the crown prince or that your father will be hearing about this.”

“I’m just desperate right now,” Kit protested. He knew that he was privileged but he didn’t sound that entitled. Did he? “I just thought if we could find some actual evidence that they exist, or at least give him something other than rumours to work off of, it might help him put an end to this.”

“That sounds like a better plan,” Audrey said, “I’ll tell you what I know, but I need you to promise me that anything that I mention about New Vellarton goes completely unmentioned to your father. It’s really important to my friends that it doesn’t become known to the general public.”

“But my father can--”

“Don’t make me regret saving your life.”

“I won’t,” Kit muttered.

“Ok,” Audrey said, “We know that they like to hang out around Morbane. They tend to avoid Coral Bay because the pirates are such a damn nuisance, but we know they’ve been out that way anyways.”

Kit nodded, remembering that it had been a reported disappearance in Coral Bay four years ago that had prompted his father to look into the issue. As per the last update on the case, most of the locals were blaming the pirates that plagued the area. Allegedly, it had been the doing of a pirate captain named Marcus Hadley, who was feared all over the coasts of Toltova. From what Kit had heard, Marcus seemed to thrive off of causing chaos and instilling fear into people. The pirates had always been a problem in the coastal areas, but Hadley in particular had been a constant thorn in the side of the authorities in the coastal areas. He’d committed just about every kind of crime imaginable according to the locals, but only a small handful of the stories proved to be true. Regardless, his father’s men had been pretty confident that he had been responsible for the disappearance.

“So, if my father wanted to catch a few Patrol Guards, he should send some people down to Morbane?” Kit asked.

“In theory, yeah,” Audrey said, “But they don’t really strike there very often. I’m not too sure why.”

“Do you think it’s because they know my father is onto them?” Kit asked.

“Possibly,” Audrey said, “But now that they’re operating in secret they have to be more careful. They can’t just go off and kill a bunch of people because they might have powers.”

“Right,” Kit said, “So they need to make sure that the people that they’re taking actually do have powers.” Another idea struck him. “Audrey, what if we baited them?”

Audrey considered it for a moment. Kit could see the gears in her head turning. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Kit,” she said finally.

He frowned. He thought for sure that he had convinced her. “Why not?”

“For one thing, we’d have to find someone who’s ok with exposing their powers in public,” Audrey said, “I’m not ok with doing that. You’re probably not either, and I can practically guarantee that none of my friends would ever agree to that. But let’s say we do find someone, it’s just too risky. What if something goes wrong? It would be our fault, and I would never want to live with that kind of guilt.”

“But--”

“No buts,” Audrey protested, “I don’t think you understand how horrible these people are!”

“Fine, we won’t do that then,” Kit huffed, “But I think we should at least try to get some of this information to my father. What else do you know?”

Audrey shrugged. “Not much like I said,” she said, “I know they have a headquarters somewhere in the mountains. I’ve even...” Her voice trailed off and she looked over her shoulder towards the door.

“What is it?” Kit asked.

“Thought I heard something.” Audrey said quietly.

Kit paused. “I hear it too,” he said. It sounded like footsteps; multiple people walking up the steps towards the tower.

“We need to hide,” Audrey whispered.

Kit looked around the room looking for somewhere to hide. The only place that provided a half decent hiding spot would have been behind one of the gears. They wouldn’t complete conceal him, but at least it might buy him some time. He got up and walked over to one of the massive gears, ducking behind it as he sat down next to his bag.

“Kit,” Audrey said crouching down next to him, “This might be nothing, but if it’s the Patrol-- I’ll do my best, but my loyalties lie with my friends in New Vellarton.”

“Are you serious,” Kit exclaimed.

“I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make sure we both get out of this,” Audrey said. She extended her hand. “Here, hold my hand. As long as we’re maintaining some kind of physical contact, I should be able to turn you invisible too.”

Kit held her hand, squeezing it tightly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the footsteps grew increasingly louder.

Three young men stepped into the small room. All three of them were blonde haired and blue eyed. They looked similar enough that they could have been brothers, though they were fairly close in age. They were well dressed too, Kit noticed. They very well could have been members of Galtia’s upper middle class.

“Doesn’t look like there’s much here,” the shortest of the three remarked.

“Shut up Dorian,” The man in the middle hissed.

“Just look around quickly,” The oldest one snapped, “No one saw him at the train stations, he’s gotta be in the city somewhere.”

The three men scattered and began scouring the room for any sign that someone else was with them. Kit closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want to know how close they were getting to him. He continued to squeeze Audrey’s hand, unaware of how firm his grip was around her slender hands.

“Hm, what’s this?”

Kit opened up one eye to see one of the three men standing only a few inches away from him. Kit bit his lip to try and stop himself from crying out. He could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes. He couldn’t remember a time that he had felt this afraid. Even when Alexander had threatened him, he’d been terrified, but he took comfort knowing that his father was not too far away and that there were guards nearby. But now, he was all alone. As far as his parents knew he was on his way to Morbane. Audrey’s powers were the only thing keeping him safe right now.

The young man reached down and picked up Kit’s bag.

He opened up the bag and began rifling through it. It didn’t take him long to find the Book Of Powers. “Now this is interesting,” the man said.

“What did you find, Donovan?” Dorian asked.

“It’s a copy of the Book of Powers,” Donovan replied grinning gleefully.

“That’s impossible,” The oldest of the three men snapped, “All the copies were destroyed.”

“Not all of them apparently,” Donovan replied, “This must belong to the King. Only he would want to hold on to something like this.” He curled his upper lip in disgust as he spoke, and spat out the words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Dorian agreed, “What a pathetic excuse for a King, isn’t he? Wasting all his resources trying to find a couple of useless kids. I guess just anyone can be King these days.”

The comment made Kit’s skin crawl. He wanted nothing more than to defend his father, but his own fear kept him rooted to his spot and his mouth sealed shut. It wasn’t worth blowing their cover.

Donovan took a step forward, planting his foot right down on top of Kit’s. At this point, Kit’s heart felt like it would burst right out of his chest. His whole body trembled as he silently pleaded that Donovan wouldn’t notice anything. Kit could tell by the man’s mystified expression that this was not the case. Donovan started poking at him with the tip of his shoe.“What the..?”

Instantly the other two men rushed over to Donovan’s side.

Kit felt Audrey tug at his hand, indicating for him to stand up. He stood up, but Donovan still held his bag. Most of his belongings in the bag weren’t hugely valuable; it was mostly just his clothes and he had plenty of those back at home. But he would definitely be needing his money, and while he didn’t technically need the book, his father would kill him for losing it.

He’d have to go on without it. He hoped that his father would understand given the circumstances, but he felt a pang of regret for not being more careful with his belongings. The last copy of the Book Of Powers would be destroyed, and it was completely his fault. He should have left it at the castle. Perhaps there would be a way to rewrite it, or restore it somehow, but Kit tried not to think about it. It was the least of his problems.

“What is it?” The oldest of the three demanded, “I don’t see anything.”

“I don’t think we’re alone here, Damian,” Donovan said, a twisted grin spread across his face. He wound his leg back preparing for a hard kick.

Audrey pulled Kit out of the way as Donovan swung his leg, and nearly toppled backwards when his foot didn’t make contact with Kit’s side.

The other two young men began laughing, as Donovan’s face turned a deep shade of red. “No you don’t understand,” Donovan jabbered, “There was something-- it was like I hit an invisible wall or something!”

Audrey led Kit out of their hiding spot, while Donovan still frantically tried to explain what had happened. They tiptoed quietly towards the stairs, making sure to give the men a wide berth so they didn’t accidentally run into them.

They were halfway across the room when Damian let out an exasperated sigh and said, “Alright, well there’s nothing here. I’m going to go back down to make sure we didn’t miss anything.” Audrey and Kit both froze as he began walking in their direction. He came almost right up against them, inches away from where Kit stood. Kit took a small step backwards.

Damian spun around, brandishing a knife. “Who’s there,” He demanded, “Show yourself!”

Kit held his breath, uncertain of what to do next. If he tried to move again, then Damian would surely hear him. He couldn’t just stand in place and do nothing. Not with Damian standing inches away from him with a knife.

“What’s going on,” Dorian asked.

“I heard something,” Damian said, “And it sounded like it was coming from over…. here!”

As he spoke the last word his spun towards Kit, thrusting his knife in his direction. Kit ducked to the right, trying to avoid it. He hadn’t realized that Audrey had ducked in the opposite direction until he felt her fingers slide through his hand.

Just like his cover was blown. He stood in the middle of the floor, both visible and vulnerable. He had nothing to defend himself with except his own powers, but he didn’t want to have to use them. Not in front of Patrol members.

A cruel grin played across Damian’s face as Kit appeared only a foot away from him. “Well, well,” Damian purred, “Look who made an appearance.”

Kit looked frantically around the room for Audrey, or at least some sign of her whereabouts, but saw nothing. He couldn’t even make out any footsteps that didn’t belong to Dorian or Donovan. She had promised to help him if anything were to happen. So where was she?

“Father’s gonna be real happy with us,” Donovan said as he and Dorian closed in on him. Dorian stood by the stairs, blocking his only escape route. He had been backed into a corner with nowhere to go, and as far as he could tell, Audrey was not going to help him. How could she without blowing her cover?

“Please,” Kit begged, “Don’t… you can’t-- you can’t do this.”

“Don’t worry,” Damian sneered, “We’re not going to kill you. Oh no, you’re too valuable for that. We won’t hurt you either as long as you cooperate and do exactly what we tell you.”

Damian grabbed Kit, pointing the knife at his throat. Kit gasped, but he wasn’t going to give in so easily. He fought against the man’s tight grasp, thrashing frantically in a desperate attempt to escape. Without warning, Damian’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor, releasing Kit. He knew right away that it had been Audrey. He took it as an opportunity to escape and dashed towards the first of many staircases that wound their way around the inside of the tower towards the bottom.

He sprinted down the steps, taking two stairs at a time, trying to put as much distance as he could between three men. It didn’t take long for them to start following him down the stairs, but Kit at least had a significant head start.

About halfway down, he could feel himself growing weary. He was out of breath, but he pushed forward, ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs that pleaded for him to stop. He glanced over his shoulder, and groaned when he saw that the boys were right behind him.

He was on one of the landings, ready to start making his way down yet another set of stairs when he was grabbed and tackled to the ground.

“Quickly,” his captor grunted, as Kit tried to escape his clutches.

“Nice work, Damian,” He heard one of the other boys sneer. It was the last thing he heard before someone grabbed his wrist, followed shortly the telltale poke of a needle sliding into his vein.

He felt the effects almost instantly. It was just like the other night when Alexander had drugged him. How long ago that had seemed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kit murmured before closing his eyes and letting the drug take its course.

Author’s note: I don’t know if anyone actually has been keeping up with this story, but if anyone is, thanks for being so patient while I edited this chapter. With that being said, if anyone is keeping up with this, please let me know how you’re liking it so far. Tumblr doesn’t let me see who views posts so the only way for me to know if someone has seen my post is if they like, reblog, or comment somehow. I really would love to hear some feedback from you guys. I haven’t had much luck on wattpad either.

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Next Chapter (Coming Dec. 4 2019)

Tag list: No one yet, but please let me know if you’d like to be added.

#writeblr #writeblr stories #original story #wip #writeblr wip #newvellarton1

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knowyourincantations · 6 years ago

Text

Loss of Surety - Pansmione

For Femslash February 2019 Day 20, using the prompt from this list, ‘Hate’.

Mature | 770 words | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Casual Sex, Rivals, Unhealthy Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Open/Ambiguous Ending

I also made an edit for this fic (Tumblr | Instagram)

(AO3 Link | My Other FemslashFeb2019 works: AO3 | Tumblr)

Pansy watched Hermione as she dressed. Each movement was slow and calculated. If Hermione wanted to rush away and go back to pretending they never did this, it didn’t show. Over the years she’d come to believe Hermione was utter pants at hiding anything she thought. It turned out that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Now she couldn’t help but want to seek out her every secret, find her every weakness. Most days she still wanted to use it against her. Being a reporter put her in the best position to do so. But some days she wasn’t sure anymore what she really wanted from her.

The truth of the matter was that hating Hermione didn’t feel the same anymore. She still loathed a great many things about her, but ever since they’d started fucking after fighting, the line was blurring.

Pansy had never known herself less. She’d never had less self-control. No matter how many times she told herself she wasn’t going to let her lust override her dislike of her, she still found herself falling into bed with Hermione.

“One day I’m going to write an article outing you, you know,” she said, smoothing her hair away from her face and trying to ignore how watching Hermione dress only made her want to undress her all over again.

Hermione cast an exasperated look over her shoulder. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” she said.

Heat flooded Pansy, but it was hard to tell if it was anger or the beginnings of frustrated lust.

“I will,” Pansy insisted. “Once I figure out how you bring yourself to fuck someone you hate. It defies your wholesome war hero thing. I’ll need that detail to make it credible.”

With a snort, Hermione shook her head and stood up, pulling on her stockings and hiding all the darkening spots Pansy’s mouth had left on her inner thighs.

“I would have thought you of all people would know that,” she commented as she shimmied into her ugly woollen dress. “What better revenge on someone you hate then making them give you pleasure? Or giving them pleasure?”

Pansy closed her eyes for a moment. That was what she’d thought at first, way back when a row in Pansy’s office over some article that had put Hermione in a tizz. Thinking back to that day always stoked a fire in her. Those biting kisses, that bruising grip, the forceful touches. It had seemed so simple then. It still seemed so simple to Hermione.

Why was Pansy the one having a crisis over it? When had she let Hermione get so under her skin to the point she didn’t even know anymore if she could say she hated her?

“How do you do it?” she asked, knowing she would regret baring herself in this way but quite unable to stop herself. Hermione was probably keenly aware of the effect she had on her anyway. “You’re so good at making me come undone while remaining completely distant and unaffected yourself. How do you justify doing this with someone you hate? What do you tell yourself each time you walk away?”

Hermione put on her shoes and then looked her over. With a casual, dismissive gesture, she made Pansy feel more naked than she’d ever felt before.

“If you’re going to piss me off so much, I might as well get something good out of it,” she said, so casually that Pansy couldn’t even tell if she really meant it or if she was lying. It was so unlike the persona Hermione showed to the rest of the world. “Every awful article you write about us doesn’t feel quite so bad after I leave you like this.”

Was Hermione really so cold and unfeeling, or was she more of a master at masking her emotions than Pansy was after a lifetime of training?

“I still hate you,” she murmured, even though she’d never been less sure.

Hermione crawled onto the bed until she was leaning over her. Pansy expected a brutal, biting kiss but the one Hermione gave her was soft and lingering. It only made the whirlwind of confusion in her grow stronger.

“Good,” Hermione breathed against her lips. “Then we’ll do this again.”

Without another word or look at her, Hermione left and Pansy stayed still until she heard the door to her flat close after her.

She groaned and took herself off for a shower. Time to piece herself back together from the mess Hermione made of her.

But it was only a matter of time before Hermione made her come undone again.

#pansmione #slytherdornet #hprarepairnet #femslashfeb2019 #hp femslash #hpfemslash #hp wlw #hpwlw #hermione x pansy #pansy x hermione #hermione granger #pansy parkinson #harry potter #femslash #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #my fanfic #*

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hanzi83 · 6 years ago

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YOU WANNA SEE THE MOST IRRATIONAL BLOG EVER..

You know what maybe I should do what you guys do, most of you and start leaning centrist and to the right, even you pretend ass bitch liberals who pretend to be anti Trump are categorized in this because speaking out against Israel or calling out systemic evil hasn’t gotten anywhere, and even my people in my life have made deals with the devil so they can partake in systemic orgies while pretending to be male feminists, or try to be woke. Maybe I should start making deals with the devil too then; maybe I should be Pro Israel, pro racism, pro misogyny and actually be out in the open with it. Watch how fast these bitch ass media outlets will then start paying attention because you refuse to pay attention when I have reached out numerous times, and you can’t because powerful people locally who take orders from the Zionists have controlled my growth and once were socially conscious type but now suck up to the inner white supremacy so you can have your wrestling, sports, comedy, hip hop connection etc so maybe I should cheer on when white supremacy rises or some shit. Watch out how much you bitch ass shit fucks start paying attention then. I would rather die than ever make peace with any of you or ever break bread with any of you.

Maybe I should sell my fucking soul and become a Pro Israel person and actually be treated like I am a good guy and maybe then you fuck tards who pretend to be a part of resistance will pay attention and suddenly need to stop me, while you sit back and take that Zionist dick from Stern behind the scenes and he rams his fucking tiny cock in your mouths and the semen stains the back of your fucking bootlicking subservient mouth.

I will never be happy until your bitch ass bootlicking cunts kill me. Maybe I should attack the Me Too movement and blow the cover that this is probably all staged and scripted and you all are fucking each other behind the scenes and now it is just the men in charge allowed to now get traction and they are probably all long gone and dead, and their fucking clones are around to deal with the mess while all of you think you got some justice when everything you cheer for is fucking symbolism and it doesn’t mean shit in the end. And anyone in the wrestling business or covers it has a problem, you are no better, you are supporting a white supremacist company like the WWE who supports Trump, you can pretend to be outraged by Saudi Arabia etc but you still take that Vince McMahon dick in your mouth. In my opinion he runs everything, even the independent circuit you cling onto as something about being anti WWE, and you are still supporting them. The evil never runs out, it is just designed as something else.

I would rather die than ever serve that evil. Fuck everyone who does, but maybe I need to if it means getting traction since you fucking woke people are so woke about everything and anything but never once call out the real evil of the system and just pick on the characters that prop up in mainstream. A lot of my people support fucking evil systemic shit, and pretend they are good people. They sacrificed me so they can get all the orgies, perks, access they want and none of them have the fucking balls to say anything about it because it would mean they have to be subservient to me for hooking it up because I was the asshole who took all the fucking harassment and lumps from being prostituted on the Stern Show.

The funny thing is these people pretended they fucking cared about my status and cared about me progressing when it was all about them, it has become clear when they invite me out but still show me some disrespect while dick riding me and telling me I am a fucking legend while simultaneously shitting on me with your bitch ass subtle ways, and just because I didn’t compromise my sexuality like you guys did because you guys wanted to be down, and you were forced into marriages, which don’t even mean shit because most of you fuck other girls and guys on the fucking side. Nothing has any meaning, it is all pretentious. I feel sorry for all of your fucking kids who have to grow up and realize what kind of evil people run the world and what their parents had to do to survive.

Don’t worry once I post this, they will all try to root for my death, which is the point. I want you all to kill me. So if I say I support white supremacy, misogyny, homophobia etc, then will you pay attention and call me out and then put a fucking bullet in my head, since none of you fucking assholes care about my mental health and pretend to preach about mental health awareness, while the faces of mental health on the surface are the biggest fucking cowards because they won’t ever fucking tell you why this happens and how it is designed and they think they are really doing something about it. You aren’t doing shit. You are doing less than me, and I do fucking nothing for a living and I sit here every fucking day and wish for my demise so I never have to see anyone ever again.

I am waiting for the shit heads on Reddit to post this and not even see the point of this irrational anger. “HANZI IS LEANING RIGHT THESE DAYS, HE IS GOING EXTREME AND HE MIGHT KILL SOMEONE” Yeah a guy with no fucking weapons or no desire to hurt anyone is going to do something, what fucking shit heads. Maybe if I say I am going right, maybe they will support me, because everyone else behind the scenes is rooting for Trump. If they wanted him out they would have had him out, but most of these fucking celebrities that are going after him are going after him because Trump fucked some chicks they used to like. Someone inside showbiz told me that and I know you will say he isn’t credible, but none of these people are really against Trump because they support white supremacy beneath the surface, even the ones who seem to be the most staunch liberals.

None of these women actually care about the Me Too movement; I wonder what excuse they will come up with when it is Stern’s turn. They will pretend Stern forced them to keep quiet, but had no problem going to his Hamptons parties and the females that still hype him up are going to look stupid and that is why no one will ever take your fucking movements seriously because you still make deals with the devil because you love those access journalism, and systemic orgies that you pretend you don’t do because you are trying to convince people you made it because of your talent, when the talent is only 4th down the list of what you need to make it. It is because you have to fuck someone to get in position, and then later you can claim you were raped. MAYBE THIS WILL GET TRACTION BECAUSE I JUST SHIT ON THE PRECIOUS ME TOO MOVEMEMNT, YET YOU WILL FUCKING ALIGN YOURSELVES AND DEFEND PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE WAY WORSE. Any female who claims to be about this movement and you are still cool with Howard Stern, you have no fucking credibility, you have less credibility than I fucking do. That is why no one is going to believe shit.

Maybe I should start waving an Israeli flag and shit on Palestine like everyone of you “GOOD OLD LIBERALS” You call out Trump because it is easy to fucking do, you won’t ever admit that your bitch ass support for Hilary or any other corporate democrat is still supporting white supremacy but you just want to seem half woke You just call out the bare minimum of what is really corrupt and that is why it makes you look good to kind of call out Trump but you will find out that these good socially conscious types are also in the same fucking bed with all of these guys. At least Kanye had the balls to admit it, the rest of you just pretend and it will help you with not having to pay taxes, but still pretend that you are these staunch liberals, especially all of you fucking comedians and Hollywood type, who were busy laughing at the Whack Pack, instead of calling out Stern, maybe someone like me wouldn’t have bought into him being a good person since respectable people gave him props and associated with him. How the fuck is Jimmy Kimmel is bastion of liberalism when he has partook in shit with Howard Stern to mock the mentally disabled on his show and say its all in good fun and then gets on television like the pretentious twat he is and cries his little eyes out because a fucking lion died. Fuck you, you are probably a fucking Trump supporter too, but this is just for show.

Howard Stern runs his dick through all of you mother fuckers and you will keep pretending he is irrelevant which is why you are all afraid to call him out and you will then pretend to act shocked when something about him is revealed and I will be there to call you all out for the lying sacks of shit you are. If people in my life want to do business with filth and evil just so they can pimp out people they know to be down with those then fuck you too. I don’t want to be associated with any of you mother fuckers. All of you in this world have compromised your fucking sexuality to make it, remember it is never because of your talent, the talent doesn’t mean shit, and you can keep pretending because you all have pretend journalist write think pieces and act like their opinions are not biased at all and then anyone who says anything remotely related to a conspiracy, you lump them in with Alex Jones because deep down all of you support Alex Jones, otherwise he wouldn’t have never caught traction, you did that on purpose to make it seem like there was someone speaking some sort of truth and now you use it to spew vile hatred on conspiracy theorists. I rather be a conspiracy theorist then ever be a part of any of your fucking clubs. They are all filth. I wish every fucking day someone would fucking murder me, because I am not going to do it on my own, I will remain here for as long they allow me. One day they will have to kill me, especially if I am trolling and telling you I am going to hype up white supremacy and support Israel, then one of you SJW’s will have to fucking kill me and you will be cheered on for it. Come on and do it. I have nothing to live for, no one wants me and I don’t want them. I just want to die as soon as fucking possible.

If you are stupid enough to think I am actually a white supremacist, maybe I should just pretend to be one and support all the wrong things since you all actually do support the wrong things behind the fucking scenes. Look at the irrational anger you fucking no good shit heads. Discuss this amongst your shitty little private groups and dissect it while you laugh it off but when you are alone you are crying because I hurt your little bitch ass feelings. Just like you have no respect for me, for my erratic behavior and irrational attitude to piss people off, I have no respect for any of you. I have no respect for anything you say or you do because it is all limited and none of you have the real power and the ones that do will do whatever it takes to maintain it.

None of you will even say anything until the day I am dead so then you can pretend you gave a fuck about mentally ill people, but allowed a sea of targeted harassment to come my way and make me feel like utter shit. You will probably frame me for something and fuck me over. I wish you would just be men and just fucking kill me. I have no desire to be here and as long as I am breathing I will be online causing shit and calling people out even if it means I get more blacklisted. What is the point, you already gave all my friends and connections to other people in my life, so why would you even need me, you have the better version of me that you can pretend to like.

I wish all of you who take pleasure in my misery and my behavior that this shit happens to everyone you fucking love and you have to deal with this. I hope you are haunted at night and can’t sleep because you shook hands with the devil and had to compromise your sexuality and beliefs to make it anywhere in this world and I will be in my fucking parents basement where it has been designed to happen, so bitch ass tricks can get ahead of me and make their lane and did it solely because I didn’t want to sell my soul, so you did it behind my back and joined up with evil shit heads. Now you get to pretend you are a good person. None of you are. You are all fucking evil and I wish the worst shit to happen to every single one of you for even fucking with me.

You allow sexual predators online to make waves as personalities and then pretend you are against it but you will never fucking admit that you support this kind of behavior and let it go on. That is why you let Woody Allen parade around, and you let Bill Cosby, or R Kelly makes waves and when their careers were done, then you decided to call them out for it because it became easy and convenient for you. None of you actually care and this women empowerment in 30 years will be exposed when some of these women are exposed as doing something fucked up and then pretending they could do it because they are women and they are allowed to get away with it.

DO YOU LIKE THAT IRRATIONAL ANGER? DO YOU TAKE PLEASURE OR DID IT PISS YOU THE FUCK OFF. I HOPE IT DID BECAUSE NOW YOU KNOW EXACTLY HOW THE FUCK I FEEL EVERY FUCKING DAY WHILE YOU MOTHER FUCKERS HAVE PROFITED OFF ME, WHILE I HAVE TO CONSTANT INCREASE MY MEDICATION BECAUSE NONE OF YOU HAVE THE BALLS TO BE HONEST ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVE FUCKING DONE TO FUCK ME OVER. I WISH YOU ALL NOTHING BUT THE WORST AND I HOPE WHEN YOU DIE YOUR SOULS ALL ROT IN HELL. FUCK YOU ALL FOR ALLOWING THIS TO KEEP HAPPENING AND I WILL SIT HERE AND WAIT UNTIL SOMEONE FUCKING COMES AND MURDERS ME. I Won’t do it myself, I am a peaceful person who is trolling you all right now with some irrational fucking anger to prove a point but it will go over all your fucking heads because you will somehow pretend not to understand irony or say I am shit at explaining it. Fuck you all.

Again anything I said in here is just my opinion backed up with no facts. It is still fuck you though

#Hanzi 2018 Illuminati Harassment Irrational Anger Trolling Hatred Sellouts Pretentious liberals assholes Howard Stern Show Associates Mental #Illness assholes Hollywood Media Shit heads

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carry-on-kissing-snowbaz · 7 years ago

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Divination Class

I haven’t posted a fic on tumblr in a while, so I hope you guys like this one. I decided to do an eighth year fic where Simon and Baz take a divination class. One vision later, and chaos ensues.

Word Count: 2599

Simon

As an eighth year, students at Watford were required to take at least one semester of divination. Simon, like many other students, thought the class was ridiculous and a waste of time. But it wasn’t up to him, so he begrudgingly followed Penny and Agatha to class.

“This is stupid,” Simon muttered.

Penny made an unsatisfied clucking noise.

“It isn’t actually. The prophecy that predicted your arrival? That was the result of an oracle.”

“So?” Simon asked.

“So, you coming to Watford is a result of divination, the thing you think is stupid,” Penny said.

Simon rolled his eyes.

“Okay but we aren’t oracles are we? I don’t have time to waste on crystal balls and tarot cards,” Simon said.

“We’re also studying divination bones,” Penny said, excitement in her voice.

“What do you have to do that’s so pressing Simon? Chase Baz around some more?” Agatha asked.

Simon felt heat color his cheeks.

“No. I told you that I decided to give up on that. Wherever he was at the beginning of last term isn’t my business,” Simon said.

“Then just be grateful we get to take an easy class this semester. It’s almost a guaranteed A,” Agatha said.

“Fine,” Simon said.

They made their way into Madam Bellamy’s classroom, Penny looking hungry to start right away and Simon and Agatha trailing behind looking bored. Simon eyed Agatha nervously. They had broken up a couple of weeks ago, and though she’d been acting perfectly normal ever since, Simon worried that at any moment she might stop talking to him altogether.

Madam Bellamy strode into the room, her expression a combination of nervousness and enthusiasm. Simon could tell that she already knew how most people felt about the divination requirement; it was if she was already steeling herself for the snickering comments of disbelieving students. She cleared her throat prettily before speaking.

“Even though today is the first day of classes, we’ll need to begin with lessons right away. We only have one semester to get through quite a bit of material,” She said.

Simon heard an ill-disguised snicker from the other side of the room. He knew who it was before he looked up. Baz had a hand over his mouth, smiling underneath his palm cruelly. Although Simon didn’t buy into the whole divination thing, it pissed him off that Baz could look so coolly derisive about it, especially in front of Madam Bellamy.

Madam Bellamy didn’t react; instead she walked over to the table at the front of the room. On it sat several strange items; cards, bones, herbs, glass vials, and bowls. There was one item that Simon did recognize, a crystal ball. She strode over to it and stroked it casually with her hand.

“Today we will begin with what I’m sure is most familiar to all of you. Yes, I know, it’s sort of laughable but I promise you there’s credibility to the practice.”

She passed out the crystal balls, smiling gently at everyone as she did it. Simon glanced uncomfortably at his crystal ball, his blue eyes reflecting back at him in its shiny surface.

“Today you will attempt to gaze into your crystal ball. Most likely, you won’t have any results. But next week? Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to put all Normal psychics to shame,” Madam Bellamy said.

Simon felt strange, as if the ball was all that he could see in his field of vision. He brought up his hands to hold the ball.

“Now, I’m going to turn off all of the lights and close all of the windows. We’ll light some candles to provide a more appropriate level of light.”

Simon couldn’t feel Penny at his side any longer, or Agatha. All he could feel was the crystal’s smooth surface on his palms.

“When you look into your ball, try to visualize and focus on what you’d like to know. You may call me over if you are confused or need clarification.”

Simon couldn’t concentrate on anything except the crystal ball, not even his own thoughts. He knew he wasn’t doing it right, that he was lost to the object instead of asking it what he wanted to know, but he couldn’t stop what was happening. He was falling deeper and deeper into whatever magic existed in the ball, and eventually he couldn’t hear the rest of the room.

His crystal began to mist, like something was appearing inside of it. Simon felt his stomach drop as hazy images began to appear inside the crystal ball. He tried fighting it, to get away from what was happening, but he couldn’t let go of the ball. And then he was seeing himself, inside of the crystal ball. He looked angry and there was someone else there with him. The person stepped forward, and Simon could see hair as dark as pitch. Baz was with him and by the set of his shoulders he was just as upset as Simon looked in the crystal’s surface. And then the unthinkable happened. Simon watched himself kiss Baz. He waited to see Baz throw him off and kill him once and for all. But that never happened. Instead, Simon watched in awe as Baz kissed him back, like it was everything he’d ever wanted.

Simon gasped and fell backwards off of his chair. All of his senses came back to him and he saw that everyone in the room was staring at him. But the only eyes Simon sought out were grey and glaring at him. Simon felt blood rush to his cheeks, felt as if electricity was washing over his bones, and couldn’t break his gaze away from Baz. Eventually, Baz’s glare turned into something else, as if he were confused and maybe a little scared.

The lights flicked out suddenly, breaking the connection between Simon and Baz. Simon shook his head and was helped up by Penny and Agatha.

“Simon, are you all right?” Madam Bellamy asked.

Simon shook his head, trying to get ahold of himself.

“I uh…I’m sorry. I need to go clear my head.”

He walked out of the classroom, visions of black hair and kisses trailing eerily behind him.

Baz

Something strange had just happened to Snow. While the rest of the class had been drifting off to sleep in front of their crystal balls, Snow had been staring intently into his. He’d even broken into a sweat before he fell out of his chair. After he threw himself out of his chair Baz thought darkly. Baz had never had much skill in divination; it required a lot of magic and a lot of patience. Snow did have a lot of magic, but had even less patience than Baz had. It didn’t make sense for him to have seen something in his crystal ball, but what else could send him running from the classroom, pale and shaking?

There was also the strange look that Snow had given him before the lights had come back on. It was like he could see Baz, actually see him for everything that he was, in that moment. It had left Baz feeling vulnerable and exposed, like at any moment Snow could have reached out and made tangible all of Baz’s deeply hidden feelings for him.

Baz left the classroom quickly after Madam Bellamy released them, chasing after the only person wearing a cape in the room.

“Bunce!” Baz shouted, shouldering past Trixie.

Bunce froze and turned around, her face guarded but a little curious.

“Yes Basilton?”

Baz smiled, not kindly.

“What was Snow’s problem? Did he see me taking Wellbelove to the Leavers Ball?”

Bunce frowned.

“I actually don’t know what he saw, not that I’d ever tell you anyways. All I could see was mist. Whatever he saw, it was only meant for him to see.”

Baz blinked, suddenly feeling very nervous.

“You mean…he didn’t tell you what he saw?” Baz asked.

Bunce narrowed her eyes.

“No. Why do you ask?”

Baz frowned and turned away from her, hurrying towards his room. Something shocking had to have appeared in the crystal ball, something so intense that Snow didn’t feel comfortable telling his best friend about it. Which meant one of two things, either Snow saw Baz doing something very bad or he saw him doing something Baz didn’t even want to think about.

He flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was going faster than a human would, which was stupid, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to find out what Snow saw, and try to do damage control. He could always try to convince him that he hadn’t seen what he’d thought he had, or that he’d let his magic get away with him, but Snow was the most stubborn person he knew.

He burst into their room.

“Snow?” He asked.

But there was no one in the room. Snow was gone.

Simon

Simon had been avoiding Baz for two days. Ebb had let him stay with her; he’d pretended that Baz was busy with a school project and that he was trying to give him some space. Ebb seemed like she knew he was lying, but that she didn’t mind. Simon had only been going to classes he didn’t have with Baz and leaving a few minutes early so that Baz couldn’t track him down.

He knew Baz was looking for him.

Simon wasn’t sure what to make of that. Did it mean that the Baz in the crystal ball was real? That there was some part of him that cared whether Simon was in their room every night? That wanted Simon to kiss him? Every time Simon tried to wrap his head around what he saw he was always left feeling lightheaded and a bit twisty, like someone was wringing his stomach. He knew he wasn’t ready to face Baz, but he also knew he was out of time. Simon couldn’t hide with Ebb forever; he’d fail all of his classes.

Sulkily he sat out with the herd in front of Ebb’s door, petting a goat softly. He sometimes found comfort in the goats, he didn’t today. The soft crunch of grass made him look up and freeze. Someone was coming towards them, goats trailing behind him.

Baz made his way towards him, his expression unreadable. He had a baby goat in his arms; it slept there comfortably, like it had been there for a while. When Baz reached him he sat next to him, careful not to disturb the kid in his arms.

“Found this one trailing towards campus, don’t know how he got there,” Baz said.

Simon frowned. A baby that young wouldn’t have wondered so far on its own, it would have had to have help. Suddenly he remembered the looks Ebb had been giving him for the past few days, all the gentle questions about how Baz was doing. Simon sighed angrily, he was definitely going to remind Ebb the next time he saw her that he could sort out his own life just fine on his own.

“I do,” Simon said, gently taking the baby from Baz’s arms and laying him on the couch inside Ebb’s place.

“Snow?” Baz asked.

Simon felt his muscles lock down, tension singing through his body.

“Yes?”

“Can we talk?” Baz asked.

“Sure,” Simon said.

“In private?” Baz continued.

Simon dropped his head in defeat.

“I guess, yeah,” Simon said.

Simon already knew where they were going as they walked away from Ebb’s house. Baz and Simon only ever talked in private in one place. They trudged silently towards the Mummers House, secrets swirling between them.

Baz

Snow wouldn’t look at him. They were climbing the stairs to their room, side by side. Baz felt his heart thrumming fast, as if he was waiting for something to happen. He didn’t know what Snow was going to say when they got to their room or what he was going to say for that matter. But he knew something was going to change.

Baz opened the door to their room and positioned himself against the wall across the room. He wanted to appear unbothered, as if none of this was really affecting him.

Snow trailed in after him, still not looking him in the eyes.

“What’s going on Snow? You’ve been gone for days,” Baz said.

“I’ve been avoiding you,” Snow said.

Baz paused. He hadn’t expected Snow to be so blunt, or to be so willing to answer his questions.

“Why?” Baz asked.

Snow huffed angrily.

“I think you know why,” Snow said.

Baz crossed his arms.

“You saw something, in that crystal ball. Something you shouldn’t have,” Baz said.

Snow laughed, the sound brittle and exhausted.

“I should’ve known I couldn’t avoid it,” Snow said.

“Avoid what?” Baz asked.

Snow finally looked up at him. His jaw was set angrily but his eyes looked different, open in a way Baz had never seen them.

Baz strode forward, getting into Snow’s space.

“What did you see?” Baz demanded.

Snow sneered angrily.

“Why do you care?”

Baz wanted to kiss him. He wasn’t sure why but he had a feeling that if he did, Snow might actually let him.

“I think you know why,” Baz said, repeating Snow’s words from earlier.

Snow bit his lip.

“I didn’t understand, not at first. I thought…it had to be wrong. That I could never feel…that I didn’t…” Snow trailed off.

Baz felt like his whole world was waiting on Snow to finish his thought.

“But I do. I did…I always did…”

Snow reached forward and pulled Baz’s jacket lapels forward, bringing his face with him. Baz closed his eyes, not believing what was happening and reveling in the fact that it was. Snow kissed him, reaching up slightly and pushing his hands into Baz’s hair. Baz shuddered, felt as if he was coming apart under Snow’s mouth. He went slightly pliant, not sure how to kiss Snow back but enjoying the feel of it nevertheless.

Simon

He’d known the vision was coming true. As soon as he’d stepped into the room and finally looked Baz in the eyes. He couldn’t deny his feelings in that moment. He’d spent years writing them off as animosity, as concern over Baz’s plans. But it wasn’t that, not really. He could no longer deny that the fast beating of his heart was because of how Baz looked at him, not because he was afraid.

He was kissing him and it felt better than it had looked in the crystal ball. Baz’s mouth was cool and a bit immobile, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. But his hands were intent on Simon’s neck, and his hair was just as soft as Simon had always imagined it would be.

Simon slid his tongue into Baz’s mouth tentatively, unsure if Baz would want to kiss like that. But then Baz’s tongue slid into his mouth and Simon couldn’t think at all anymore. He was just sensation, raw and needy. He was hot and cold all at once, his skin blazing and Baz’s tongue sliding coolly in his mouth.

When he broke away, he was unsurprised to see his own feelings reflected in Baz’s warm grey eyes.

“I used to think divination was stupid,” Baz said.

“So did I,” Simon said, breathing heavily.

They didn’t say it, they didn’t have to. They both knew the truth now; that this was always meant to happen, that the crystal ball hadn’t shown Simon anything they hadn’t both already known, deep down.

#carry-on-kissing-snowbaz #my fanfiction #carry on rainbow rowell #carry on #simon snow #Simon and Baz #snowbaz #baz pitch #basilton pitch #snowbaz fanfiction #carry on fanfic #carry on fan fic #carry on fanfiction #agatha wellbelove #penny bunce #canon divergence #one shot fanfic #one shot

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findbeggar84-blog · 6 years ago

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Who is Bruce Ohr, and why is Donald Trump saying nasty things about him?

Who is @aliasvaughn? There are at least two views, one very flattering, one less so, and others. For my mileage, I’ve come to regard the handle on Twitter as a gossip columnist on the Trump administration troubles with criminal law.

That’s not to dismiss the work at all. Jack Anderson took over a Washington gossip column, and became an investigative powerhouse during the Watergate years.

We could use another Jack Anderson now, to present what is known about scandals in the White House, with assured publication in 1,000 local newspapers that right now get almost none of that news.

Plus, as anyone who heard me talk to corporations, an organization’s gossip reveals information vacuums that great leaders will fill with good, accurate information, and often reveals details about events that do not appear in the official versions of a story, but which can make all the difference in the world in properly dealing with a situation. Leaders listen to gossip, and answer it.

In any case, today Ale (@aliasvaughn) offers a lengthy-for-Twitter explanation of why Donald Trump lashes out at Bruce Ohr, who you and I don’t know from Adam nor Adam’s off-ox. The explanation has a lot of hyperbole in it — but it also offers information you can’t get from the Trump echo chambers, and a lot of connections today’s newspaper doesn’t have time to explain.

Former Associate Deputy Attorney General and past champion Russian organized crime fighter Bruce Ohr.

So I saved the thread here, and offer it for your edification and entertainment, and to convince you to go vote the bums out in November.

Who is Bruce Ohr?

1. Bruce Ohr is the Justice Department lawyer who was told by Christopher Steele that Russian intelligence believed it had Trump "over a barrel". Start seeing why Trump is going after him? https://t.co/9zDD0QTBk7