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paradoxicalpatton · 5 years ago

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Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves

hi everyone! so this is my new (not so little) little project, and im really excited about it!! this chapter is just the prologue so if this does well im going to write and post the actual story. so please if you enjoy this little sneak peek into my new au, like and reblog it!!! also, @tinysidestrashcaptain wanted to be tagged, so here!

Title: Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves Chapter: Prologue Word Count: 2018 Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, Dukeceit Summary: Logan Bright, a Police Officer, is trying to find his father's killer, and solve the case that led to his death once and for all. Throughout his investigations, Logan meets an eclectic bunch of people. A paramedic who owns 2 cats yet is deathly allergic, a 911 operator with severe social anxiety, twins who happen to be a firefighter and a forensic scientist, a cps worker who is a compulsive liar, and a 7-year-old boy who's parents were murdered. Warnings: References to past child abuse, mentions of murder, and includes references to violence and talks about injuries so please be careful if you choose to go ahead and read! this fic is also very, very, sympathetic deceit heavy, so if you dont like that, dont read. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046337/chapters/55117603

[April 24th 2020, 2:17 am]

“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”

“Some bad man hurt my mom and dad, I don’t think they’re okay. Can you please come?”

“Okay, how old are you?”

“Please come fast, there’s lots of blood.”

“I’ve got officers coming as fast as they can, but I need you to stay calm for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Thomas.”

“Hi Thomas, I’m Virgil. How old are you?”

“I’m 7 years old.”

“Okay Thomas, you said there was a bad man, is he still there or did he leave? Did you see him?”

“He left. I only saw his clothes.”

“Alright, where are you right now?”

“In my mom and dad’s room.”

“And do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No, it’s just me.”

“Can you tell me what happened, Thomas?”

“I was sleeping with my mom and dad and I had to go to the bathroom, and then I heard my mom scream and two loud bangs.”

“Those loud bangs, did they sound like gunshots?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, did the bad man leave quickly?”

“No, he stayed for a little.”

“So you heard the loud bangs and waited a little until the man left?”

“Yes, he did something else to my mom and dad.”

“What did he do Thomas, do you know?”

“He closed their mouths with string.”

“...God, okay the officers should be there any minute now.”

“I can see police cars.”

“Perfect, you did such a good job calling. Can you give the phone to a police officer for me please?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

“Detective Phillips speaking.”

“Hi detective, I just wanted to make sure help arrived before I ended the call.”

“No problem, we’ll handle this now.”

“Of course.”

[The Sanders Residence, April 24th, 2:21 am]

Detective Clark Phillips hung up the phone call and made his way over to the front stairs were Thomas had sat down. Sitting next to him, Clark shrugged off his coat and placed it around Thomas’ shoulders, making sure to give them a firm squeeze before he pulled away. Clark lent down slightly so that he could speak to Thomas more quietly and directly.

“So Thomas, was it? Did you see the man that killed your parents?” Thomas dried his face with his pyjama sleeve and looked at the detective sitting next to him, trying to find the courage to speak, his voice uneven and scared.

“I saw what he was wearing, but I didn’t see his face.” Clark watched as Thomas wrapped his arms around himself tightly, bowing his head and attempting to shrug the coat off. The detective chuckled at the sight before him.

“Well, Thomas that won’t help us at all.”

“But-” Clark put his right hand on the back of Thomas’ neck and squeezed slightly, a warning for the boy to stop talking.

“Unless you saw his face we’ll never find him. So if someone asks you if you saw something you tell them you saw nothing, alright?”

“But I did-” The hand tightened around Thomas’ neck and new tears began to form in the corner of his eyes.

“What did you see Thomas?”

“Nothing.”

[The Myers Residence, April 24th, 2:18 am]

Demitri Myers was rudely woken by the sound of his annoying default ringtone in the early hours of the morning. Without moving as much as he could, Demitri reached behind him and grabbed his phone from his bedside table, hitting the answer button and putting the call on speaker.

“Myers.”

“Dee, oh good you’re awake.”

“Why of course, it’s not as if I were sleeping or something.”

“Oh poor Demitri was woken from his beauty sleep-”

“Look, Allison, unless someone’s died I’m hanging up.”

“It was two people actually, their young son found them, I need you to take this one.”

“Fuck, sorry. Yeah alright, text me the address, I’ll get there as quick as I can.”

“Thanks, Dee.”

Hanging up the phone, Demitri threw the bed covers off him and made his way into his ensuite, turning the tap on and gently splashing cool water over his face. He quickly slipped on his sneakers and coat, then grabbed his ID badge and car keys, and left. Demitri turned the car on and opened up his phone, tapping on the address Allison had sent him and started his GPS before pulling out of the underground car park and driving toward the crime scene.

[The Sanders Residence, April 24th, 2:27 am]

Demitri walked up to the yellow police tape and showed the nearest officer his ID badge before slipping under the tape and walking over to the group of detectives standing by the paramedics. He was quickly given a rundown of what had happened and was directed by another officer over to the boy who was alone on the stairs. This was always the worst part of these kinds of jobs, the child had just lost his parents and now some stranger wants him to go with them. But Demitri had never struggled as much as he did that night. As he got closer he realised that the kid hadn’t been seen by the paramedics on sight, he could tell by the dried blood on his hands and the bottom of his pyjama pants.

Kneeling down in front of the child as slowly as he could, he was able to get a closer look. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks were puffy, hair a mess, and dried snot under his nose. Demitri tried to keep the left side of him facing away from the kid as he introduced himself.

“Hi there, my name’s Demitri, but you can call me Dee.” The boy slowly looked up at him, nodded his head and looked back down at the ground.

“My name’s Thomas.” Demitri smiled sadly and moved to sit next to Thomas on the stairs, noticing him flinch away as he got closer, so he put some space between them and let his hands fall into his lap.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m here to look after you, do you have any other family we can call?” Thomas shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself once more.

“Alright then, why don’t we go inside and pack a bag with some of your things. Do you think you can do that?” Thomas nodded and Demitri let out a quiet sigh, he knew this was going to be difficult, he just wished that Thomas didn’t have to go through this. Demitri stood up and walked over to Detective Phillips who seemed to be leading the case and asked him if he and Thomas could pack a larger bag and take a few small comfort items. The detective agreed and he went back over to Thomas asking him where his room was.

When they reached Thomas’ room, Demitri looked through the closet to find something to pack Thomas’ things in, eventually deciding on his small Spider-Man themed suitcase. Together they packed it full of clothes and toys, as well as Thomas’ toothbrush and hairbrush. Before leaving the room Demitri grabbed one of Thomas’ pillows and asked the boy to grab his shoes.

[The Myers Residence, April 24th, 2:45 am]

When Demitri and Thomas had finally made it back to his apartment, he gave Thomas a quick tour, showing him where he’d be sleeping, where Demitri slept, where the bathroom was, and how to use the television. But before anything else, Demitri grabbed a new towel for Thomas and a new change of clothes, turning on the shower and letting the child clean himself of his parent’s blood. While he showered, Demitri put clean sheets on the guest bed and placed Thomas’ pillow near the headboard.

After Thomas had gotten changed he brushed his teeth and lied down in the bed that’d been made for him, quietly asking Demitri to leave the door slightly ajar. Once he was sure Thomas was safe and comfortable, Demitri made his way to his own room and climbed back into bed after kicking off his shoes. He knew he should probably figure out what he needed to do tomorrow regarding Thomas, but he could practically feel sleep calling him. He had almost drifted off when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door and a creak letting him know it’d been opened.

“Mister Dee? Are you awake?” Demitri sat up and patted the empty side of his bed, inviting Thomas to take a seat so they could take.

“Yeah buddy, I’m awake. You doing alright?” With a little help, Thomas climbed up on the bed, sitting cross-legged and playing with the edge of the blanket.

“I’m okay, I can’t sleep.” Demitri nodded and slid back down the mattress until he was lying once more, pulling some of the blankets from underneath Thomas and lifting it up, inviting him to lie down with him.

“That’s fine, you can stay here with me.” Thomas smiled, albeit sadly, and made himself comfortable.

“Mister Dee-” “Just Dee, Thomas.” “-Dee… what happened to your face?”

Demitri stiffened. Usually, when he looked after children they’d be too scared to ask about his face, so when Thomas questioned him about it he was immediately ready to respond with a lie, to keep him happy. But his only rule when it came to lying was that he would never do it to a child. So he told Thomas the truth.

“It melted in a fire when I was 9.” Thomas’ wide, chocolate brown eyes blinked a few times, the boy refusing to break the silence so that Demitri would go on. And with a reluctant sigh, he did.

“My parents had a bad fight one day and my Dad hit me so hard I fell asleep. While I was asleep he accidentally started a fire. I was left inside.”

“Did they forget you?” Demitri should really lie here, to tell Thomas ‘No, they didn’t, my Dad saved me’ and that everything was okay. But looking across at him, Demitri just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“No, they didn’t forget. My Mom and Dad didn’t want to save me.” Before he knew it small, warm arms were wrapped around his stomach, Thomas’ face pressed tightly against his chest. For the first time ever since the incident, Demitri let a few silent tears slip past his eyes and down his cheeks. Because Thomas, a boy who had just lost his parents, who he had just met, was here comforting him for something that had happened 19 years ago.

Demitri smiled as Thomas pulled away, looking up at the scar tissue that travelled down his face, neck, and arm, slowly raising a hand and looking back to Demitri.

“Can I touch it? Does it hurt?” Demitri chuckled softly and carefully grabbed Thomas’ hand, placing it on his bumpy cheek and running it past his jaw and down to the part of his shoulder exposed by his t-shirt.

“No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“It feels so weird, cool!” This time they were both laughing, real happy smiles on each of their faces.

“Hey Dee, guess what.” Thomas curled into Demitri’s side as he placed an arm around him, holding the boy close and gently rubbing circles on his shoulder.

“What Thomas?”

“It’s my birthday today.”

The rubbing stopped. Surely he had heard that wrong. Surely, there was no way that sweet, sweet Thomas’ birthday was today. Everyone’s always scared that something will go wrong on their birthday, maybe a friend didn’t turn up, or the family dog took a bite from the cake before the candles were blown. But for a child to listen to their parents be murdered, find the bodies, and make the 911 call is quite possibly the worst thing that could ever happen. What was Demitri supposed to say to that? What? ‘Happy birthday Thomas, I hope it’s a great day! Your parents are dead but that’s okay!’ Instead Demitri chose the safest option, resuming rubbing circles on Thomas’ shoulder and pulling the blanket up.

“Get some rest Thomas, tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

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spamzineglasgow · 5 years ago

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(HOT TAKE) Quarantine Phenomenology: The Curious Case of Daddy Conte, by Denise Bonetti

‘Teenage by design’? SPAM founder and editor-in-chief Denise Bonetti, tapping into her Italian roots, takes us on a whirlwind journey around the lustful theme park that is meme space in the time of quarantine. For many, especially those who aren’t on the frontline as key workers, self-isolation is thrusting us back into a rude adolescence. Having exhausted our usual channels of recursive entertainment, where better to look than to the political (yes, wybi?!) heroes of meatspace to fantasise the intimacies and reassurances we’re otherwise deprived of.

(CW: sexually explicit references)

> Comedian Dan Sebree tweeted that this whole quarantine situation is the closest any of us millennials will get to retirement. The joke is funny because it’s most likely true: the idea of people in my age bracket (mid-20s to mid-30s) ever retiring seems like a fairytale we tell ourselves to keep our boomer parents happy, something we play along to because frankly it’s easier than sharing the extent of our doubts in the future. (Find someone in their 20s who can say ‘when we all retire’ without a shred of irony).

> Sebree is right, most of us are playing retirees now. 80% of your salary to repot your plants, make sourdough, and fend off waves of existential dread here and there: not too shabby - if you used to have a stable job, that is. Things obviously aren’t so chill for quite literally everyone else: NHS workers, shopkeepers, supermarket employees, people on zero-hour contracts (which make up around 9% of all the UK workforce under 25), gig economy workers, freelancers by choice, people whose employers can’t be bothered putting them on payroll, and have therefore decided for them that they’ll have to be freelancers - the list goes on.

> Yet beyond the retirement vibes, there is a stage of life that seems even more appropriate to represent the mood that this pandemic isolation has been creating. We are feeling manic and depressive, anxious and idyllic, bored and obsessive; we have been dying our hair and we’re allowing social media challenges and email chains to make a comeback ( 😩). We’re raging that we’re being told how & when we can go out, and we want to see our friends like our life depended on it. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we’ve all gone back to being teenagers. (For some of us, the transformation is even more literal: everyone who’s had to move back to their parents tag yourselves.)

> In ‘Glitching the Collective Mind’ a three-part essay published on SPAM a few months ago, Dan Power noted how ‘spending too long online (or rather, too long outside of the real world)’ can easily give way to ‘feelings of melancholic or manic absurdity’ by way of ‘saturating the mind’ with the infinite possibilities of content. In the same essay, Power reflects on the nature of the virtual space this content is localised in, what Grafton Tanner has called the ‘virtual plaza’: a non-place through which ‘we drift and consume, lulled by the saccharine tones of muzak’. Power argues that what the ‘non-local’, ‘homogenized’ structure of the virtual plaza takes away is precisely that something around which the occupants can build a sense of identity: ‘When the features which distinguish one place from another are removed, stable sense of belonging and understanding are removed with them’.

> Although Power could not have predicted this current weirdness, I am interested in his linking the internet’s hypertrophic, endless-scroll format, eradicated from any sense of place as we know it, to its capacity both to strip us of our identity, and to reduce us to a melancholic, manic mess - a passive, wide-awake anonymous content-consumer, lying in bed between waves of anxiety. A teenager who is grappling with their identity because they’re not quite sure where their emotions are coming from - literally and metaphorically.

> Critic Amanda Hess has recently written in The New York Times about the comfort of playing childhood video games during the lockdown. ‘It’s not so much that I miss my childhood’, she writes as she becomes re-obsessed with her 11-year-old self’s favourite game, Myst, ‘as that I feel seized by it’. And I, currently taking a break from a 12-hour The Sims 2 Bon Voyage build-mode marathon to write this, can only confirm such claims.

> I’m sure the fact that we gravitate towards this simple kind of pastime has a lot to do with the fact that no one can be arsed engaging with highbrow content during such traumatic times. (Let me take a break from following the dead count on BBC News by watching Battleship Potemkin, said no one ever.) However it’s not only that we’re drawn to accessible content, it’s that we are drawn exactly to the kind of activities that our teenage selves used to be into. (Otherwise, explain why The Sims 2 is having a resurgence - sixteen years after its release [!], and not either of its two successors.)

> If nostalgia is generally understood as originating more in the disappointments of reality than in the draw of the object of nostalgia itself, then the grimness of the pandemic is also to blame for the current millennial vintage trends. As Hess observed elsewhere, the quarantine has forced us into lockdown with the very devices designed to amplify our obsessions, cranking up that very fixative impulse that makes adolescence the curse and blessing that we all know.

> In Italy, where the full lockdown has been going on for over 5 weeks now, the signs of this 30-going-13 epidemic are in full swing. Everybody knows about Italians competing with each other on who can sing the cringiest medley of 00s songs from their balconies. But there’s something even more beautiful that the Italians are doing, and The Answer May Shock You. Platonic love has infiltrated every corner of Italian social media, and the object, I tell you, is no one other the prime minister Giuseppe Conte.

> Just like teenage love, the obsession is platonic socially-distant just as much as it is carnal. ‘Giuseppe Conte’ has reportedly been amongst the most searched terms on Pornhub over the last few weeks. Spurred by sheer investigative rigour I decided to carry out further research on the platform, and can confirm that the PM-themed content abounds. The material itself varies from adorably chaste, SFW picture montages of the prime minister (‘ITALIAN PRIME MINISTER GIUSEPPE CONTE MAKE YOU CUM HARD’, as uploaded by user TheMinisterOfLove), to the literal hour-long speeches that the PM has delivered to the senate, to more visually explicit heart-reacts to the government’s directives (‘HUGE CUMSHOT WHILE LISTENING DADDY GIUSEPPE CONTE’).

> Pornography aside, the memes have taken over the Italian gram and Twitter. It all started when influencer and entrepreneur Chiara Ferragni regrammed to her 19.5m followers a post by the Instagram page @daddy.conte back in March, erroneously crediting it to @lebimbedigiuseppeconte (Giuseppe Conte’s Little Girls) - now two of the most popular hormone city pages dedicated to the PM. The content is genuinely too much and too good for me to present exhaustively, but I need to show you some favourites so you can get with the vibe (all from @daddy.conte):

[‘Italian daddy locks his girls home’]

[’From today, I declare your smile illegal’]

[’There’s a smile underneath that face mask’]

[’hey baby’ / ‘daddy come to me, my parents aren’t home’ / ‘WHAT’]

[’don’t you dare get close to my girls’]

[’who wants a goodnight story?’]

[’Hi gorgeous, if you’re reading this it’s because i’ve been trapped in a wormhole the only way for you to free me is to stay home until 4th April please do it there is no time i know you can save me baby’] [lol at how quickly this has aged]

>The spinoffs quickly proliferated, I’m talking dozens and dozens of pages devoted to the PM’s fatherly aura and classic good looks - most of them with not a huge amount of followers; a sort of decentralised, massively participatory network of adolescent erotic surplus. Some of these pages specialise in things like the PM’s smile or dimples (for the more faint of heart), inscribing the phenomenon in that Renaissance love lyric convention of praising the object of love’s beauty through a catalogue of their body parts.

>A similar sexy/cute type veneration also seems to have developed radially around other Italian political figures such as President Sergio Mattarella, however predicated on a completely different set of desirable traits. Conte’s cult is all about a sort of sub/authoritarian kink power dynamic: ‘Dom daddy tell me what to do’. (Problematic? Potentially. However, wholesome? Absolutely). Mattarella’s cult is inevitably linked to the Italian President’s political function, that of protecting the Constitution, coordinating the three branches of government while heading none. A sort of hands-off grandaddy figure there to break up fights, if you will. Combined with his sweet mannerisms, the result is more of a GILF, sitting-together-on-the-porch kind of desirability, as hinted at by the following meme: (@lebimbedisergiomattarella)

> As a testament to this systematic linkage between quarantine and teenage emotional turmoil, the same dynamic of desire has also developed around political figures in the US. Foremost examples are New York Governor Andrew Cuomo (who we now think might have nipple piercings), and Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear - a ‘clean-cut sex symbol for the coronavirus age’ according to this Salon article explaining how ‘his calm and empathetic leadership’ (read: wholesome daddy energy) have thousands of thirsty people in self-isolation lust after him (via memes, of course).

> The ethos of memes in general is already teenage by design (hypertrophic, impulsive, obsessive, thriving on a sort of possessed desire towards repetition that I refuse to compare to masturbation). But there’s something special about the dreamy, sublimated, Platonic, cute-aggressive nature of these memes in particular that makes them the epitome not only of #quarantinevibes, but also of the virtual plaza’s mood, more broadly. Quarantine has exposed and legitimised, exacerbated and normalised, the internet’s power to make us regress into horny, anxious blobs. And memes like these are the very crystallisation of that ambivalent process.

> Analysis aside, we love a meme (always already), and we love a femme fandom moment. We stan the birth of a wholesome masculinity mythology for 2020. I can think of worse Internet Utopias. Now back 2 The Sims.

Text: Denise Bonetti

Lead Image credit: @onlyconte (Instagram)

Published: 17/4/20

#essay #essays #Denise Bonetti #masculinity #memes #meme #Giuseppe Conte #Italy #sexy #quarantine #coronavirus #hot take

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elletromil · 7 years ago

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Cette lumière qui ne s’éteint pas - Part 5 of ?

So after figuring out what I want to do with this fic and beating the writer’s block I had on it, I am back with part 5 and an actual title for the Lush-verse :D I will still be doing the chapters based on some of the word prompts from the age-gap april prompt list, but I probably won’t be using them all. Also the title is from the song that have been listening to while I was writing ‘Here We Are’ by Part-Time Friends. The song has absolutely no links with the fic except that I was listening to it and the melody was inspiring like 95% of the songs I listen to while writing XD The title means “this light that doesn’t go out” and I don’t know it seemed fitting so there. Now I’ve got a title (which means I will also start posting this on ao3 soon). Of course if you talk to me about the lush verse I will understand if you keep on using lush verse XD

Tagging a few peeps: @liprouvaire @virgosista @insanereddragon @bouncybrittonie @dianyx @mang-o @thislittlediary and probably forgetting loads more xp

Cette lumièere qui ne s’éteint pas

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Part Five - Smoke

Merlin isn’t trying to corner Eggsy alone, he’s really not. People might doubt him since he’s smoking in the back alley that is usually favoured by the clerks of the nearby shops for a little break, but he had no way to know Eggsy would take his own break now, nor that they would be the only ones standing in the alley.

But Eggsy is taking his break now and they are the only ones there and Merlin has rarely felt so awkward in his life before.

Thankfully, Eggsy seems oblivious to it or decides to act like he hasn’t notice and just waves at him before coming to lean against the wall besides him.

“Hey Merlin, no time no see,” it’s not an accusation but there is something weird in his voice that Merlin cannot quite place. Not that he could have blame the lad if he had been angry. Neither him nor Harry have been around in the last two months after all. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t, it’s a nasty habit.”

Eggsy snorts and pointedly looks at the smoke that has escape his mouth while he was talking.

“But I do fall back into it when I’m nervous.”

They’re silent for a moment, Eggsy struggling to light his own cigarette, until Merlin takes pity own him and present him with his lighter.

“Ta,” the word is mumbled around his first inhale and Merlin is really gone on the lad, because his only thought is that he looks and sounds absolutely charming. “So what are you nervous about?”

He should have known the lad would go right for the jugular. It’s actually one of the things he likes about him, that he never beat about the bush, but without ever being rude about it.

Merlin usually tries to do the same, but certain subjects still require some tact and what he wants to ask falls into that category.

“You obviously know that me and Harry are in a relationship.” It’s not really a question, but Eggsy still nods. “What you might not know is that we don’t have a ‘conventional’ relationship.”

He doesn’t think he’s imagining how Eggsy’s expression seems to be closing off, but as long as he doesn’t get interrupted, Merlin just has to keep going.

“We’ve each been known to date other people from time to time, but it’s the first time we’ve ever been interested in the same person. I am sorry if it makes you uncomfortable and if so, this will be the last you’ll hear of us, but I had to know if there could be even the slightest chance you would agree to a date with us?”

For a long moment, Eggsy doesn’t say anything, but at least he doesn’t look like he wants to be far away from here anymore.

“‘Us’ like you and Harry -- at the same time?”

“Yes. At least, for now. We want to get to know you better, the two of us, but even if we are kind of a package deal, we are our own people. If we click, we’ll want to see if we also click when it’s just me and you or Harry and you.”

It might be a bit presumptuous of him to think so far ahead, but he doesn’t see what he would gain by not telling Eggsy how serious they are about this. What they want is an honest relationship where they all are equals. It’s not because none of their previous relationships with other people have lasted through the years that they haven’t been respectful of them.

“And by dating you mean like, actual dating? What if I said I just wanted to sleep with you?”

He tries not to wince, but he doubts he’s actually successful. There is nothing wrong with an entirely sexual relationship, but it isn’t what they are looking for at all.

“Then I would say that no matter how tempting it is, we would have to let you down because we would be looking for two entirely different things.”

“So you don’t want to sleep with me?”

“Saying that we don’t want to would be lying. But that’s not the only thing that we want. Not the main thing.” He has no doubt by now that coming here today was foolish, that he should have listened to Harry and stayed away, but it’s too late now. And maybe it will hurt for a while, but at least, now he’ll know for sure that it was never meant to be. “We want to try for a serious relationship.”

“I’m not… I’m not dreaming right?”

Bracing as he was for rejection, it takes him a moment before he understands what Eggsy is saying in that hopeful tone of voice of his.

“I’m sorry?” It’s still the only answer he can give him, because surely he’s mistaken.

“I mean, it seems like something I would dream up. Usually life’s not that good… Not for me at least.”

He manages not to drag the lad into a hug, but he cannot quite stop himself from wrapping a hand around his wrist. Eggsy doesn’t seem to mind, just takes a step closer and smiles for the first time since he’s spotted Merlin.

“It’s very real Eggsy. We didn’t want to put pressure on you, especially when you didn’t give a sign you would be interested so we just… Gave up.”

It’s not his proudest moment, but at the time, he had seen no reason to agree with Harry that their little crush on the lad was hopeless.

“What? You think I wasn’t interested? Guv, you and Harry would make straight men and lesbians reevaluate their sexuality.”

“That’s- That’s probably the nicest compliment I’ve ever gotten.” It’s also highly probable that he is blushing, but so is Eggsy and Harry isn’t there to make fun of him, so he doesn’t mind much. “So, is that a yes?”

“If you’re serious about it, both of you, I am too…”

“I am… We are. Even if technically Harry isn’t aware that I am currently asking you out on a date. But we’ve discussed it before. And he’ll be looking forward to it just as much as I am when I tell him.”

“So long as you’re sure of that… I just… I don’t want to be the one coming between you two.”

“And you won’t. We can’t know if it will work between us all, but we do care about you. We wouldn’t put you in this kind of position for nothing in the world.” He’s still holding on to Eggsy’s wrist and he changes his grip so that he can bring his hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to his skin in a kiss.

Eggsy is definitely blushing now, but his smile is both shy and fond.

“Then, it is a yes,” Eggsy confirms again and the last time Merlin remembers being this happy is back when Harry had first asked him out all those years ago.

#merhartwin #merlahad #merlin #eggsy unwin #getting together #established relationship #pining #polyamory #they are finally talking folks!#hurray!#lush verse #kingsman #fanfic #me

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pat78701 · 8 years ago

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100 Days Of Nepotism, Ignoring Ethics And Making The Trumps Richer

WASHINGTON ― President Donald Trump has left a trail of broken promises and unaccomplished goals in his first 100 days in office. Yet Trump has changed the White House in one major way: He has used the pomp and prestige of the presidency to serve his own bottom line.

When Trump announced on Jan. 11 that he would not divest from his multibillion-dollar international business, he broke with decades of ethical norms. Dollars flowing into his business during his time in the White House will accrue to his personal benefit. More than that, the Trump brand has gotten a permanent makeover thanks to the intangible assets the Office of the President of the United States bestows.

In his first 100 days, Trump has routinely advertised the link between the presidency and his brand. He has stated that ethics and conflict-of-interest laws and constitutional provisions do not apply to him. He has embraced the nepotistic practices more typically seen in pseudo-democracies and dictatorships by installing Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump as senior White House advisers.

This casual attitude about ethics has trickled down in his administration. His aides promoted his family’s business on television, U.S. embassies promoted his properties on government websites and his unpaid advisers have advocated for their self-interest. This is not even to mention his disgraced former national security adviser, retired Lt. Gen. Michael Flynn, lying about payments from foreign governments and meetings with foreign diplomats.

Trump’s subversion of the presidency to serve his interests came after he campaigned on a decidedly anti-corruption message to “drain the swamp” and called his Democratic opponent Hillary Clinton “the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency.”

Fred Wertheimer, an expert in ethics and campaign funding, helped pass and institute the regime of ethics and campaign finance laws and norms that Trump now barely acknowledges as applying to him. From his work at the nonprofit Common Cause in the 1970s to his current role as head of Democracy 21, Wertheimer has seen and fought against many forms of Washington corruption, including Watergate, the campaign finance abuses of the 1990s, Jack Abramoff’s corrupt lobbying and the Supreme Court’s 2010 Citizens United decision.

“President Trump is the worst president we have had in modern times in terms of issues involving ethics, conflicts of interest, protecting the integrity of the presidency and the government,” Wertheimer told HuffPost.

Wertheimer explains the situation like this: “The president maintains a worldwide business that licenses his name for fees. At the same time, he’s serving as president. His family members, his daughter, his son-in-law maintain their business operations. This is what happens in countries all over the world where leaders use their office to enrich themselves and open the door to corruption and influence buying.”

Trump’s family business specializes in one thing: brand management. Trump says he’s a dealmaker, but his true skills lie in advertising and marketing. He has licensed his name to more than 50 real estate properties around the world, earning him tens of millions of dollars in revenue. And he has already turned the presidency into a marketing tool for his for-profit interests.

I think our brand is the hottest it has ever been. Eric Trump, the Trump Organization

“Everything he owns has increased value not as a result of him but as a result of the presidency, and they have said so,” Wertheimer said. “His brand is no longer Donald Trump. His brand is President Donald Trump.”

Eric Trump, who now runs the Trump Organization with his brother Donald Trump, Jr., told the New York Times in March, “I think our brand is the hottest it has ever been.”

As he did on the NBC reality TV show “The Apprentice,” Trump makes sure his properties are advertised to his supporters and cable news viewers on a regular basis, permanently imbuing his business with the presidential brand.

Trump has visited a Trump-owned property on 31 of his first 100 days in office ― and on some days he’s visited more than one. The press reports on each visit, essentially advertising the property to the public as the federal government pays money directly to the property to rent space, rooms and even golf carts. The State Department and at least three U.S. embassies even advertised one of his properties online in April when a blog post about Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort was shared on government websites and on their social media accounts.

He has spent seven of his first 14 weekends as president at his Mar-a-Lago resort in Palm Beach, Florida, using the resort to conduct official presidential business. He hosted an open-air situation room when he consulted with Japanese President Shinzo Abe on how to respond to a North Korean missile test launch on the resort’s wide-open outdoor patio.

On another Mar-a-Lago weekend, this time when Chinese President Xi Jinping was visiting, Trump made the decision to fire 59 Tomahawk missiles at an air base in Syria.

Trump’s visits make his for-profit resort a permanent part of presidential history, which wouldn’t matter except that he’s the one who benefits financially.

The presidential visits to Mar-a-Lago also afford members unprecedented access to the president ― for a fee. (The resort doubled its initial membership fees from $100,000 to $200,000 days after Trump assumed the presidency.) Members can also bring guests hoping to get the president’s ear.

Sen. Marco Rubio (R-Fla.) ― who was a bitter rival of Trump’s during the GOP primaries ― helped facilitate a meeting between Trump and Álvaro Uribe and Andrés Pastrana, two former conservative presidents of Colombia, at Mar-a-Lago earlier this month, where they lobbied Trump to oppose the peace deal between the current Colombian government and the country’s left-wing FARC rebels. The two former presidents were able to secure a private meeting with him at Mar-a-Lago when a member reportedly brought them in as guests.

Trump has also visited the Trump International Hotel in Washington, D.C., twice since his inauguration to dine on his favorite well-done steak with ketchup at the hotel’s BLT Steak restaurant

The hotel is the perfect symbol of how Trump has intertwined his personal business interests with the operations of the U.S. government. The federal government actually owns the historic building the hotel occupies, which means Trump is both the landlord and the tenant at a property that is actively generating profits for his family. Trump’s lease with the General Services Administration technically prohibits elected officials from taking part in it ― but now that Trump heads the executive branch, the agency has decided that provision doesn’t apply to him.

Hotel management has already taken advantage of Trump’s presidential glow to pitch foreign governments on staying there. Less than 10 days after Trump won the election, his D.C. hotel hosted a gathering for about 100 foreign diplomats and tried to convince them to book rooms there when they stayed in Washington.

“Why wouldn’t I stay at his hotel blocks from the White House, so I can tell the new president, ‘I love your new hotel!’” one diplomat explained to The Washington Post. “Isn’t it rude to come to his city and say, ‘I am staying at your competitor?’”

This is just like companies that hire the Chinese princelings as a way of getting their permits agreed on. Sarah Chayes, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace

Since then, the governments of Azerbaijan, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait have booked rooms or hosted events at Trump’s hotel. A business group affiliated with the government of Turkey will host both Turkish and American government officials at its annual conference at the Trump hotel in May. (While Trump promised to hand over foreign profits from his hotel to the U.S. Treasury, his company has not answered questions on how it will do so.)

Sarah Chayes, an expert in government corruption at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, told HuffPost that it is no surprise that foreign governments with high rates of corruption are happy to put money in the president’s pocket. That’s because they recognize the arrangement.

“What all his bombast and straight-talking hid is the fact that this is very similar to the structure of governments I’ve been looking at in places like Azerbaijan, Honduras, Serbia, Nigeria, you name it,” Chayes said.

Chayes isn’t alone in her comparison. Former U.S. diplomats to countries with high rates of corruption and nepotism agree.

“I think that by the example they’re setting you can bet that is going to filter down throughout American governance and throughout the global commercial world,” said Joseph C. Wilson IV, ambassador to Gabon and Sao Tome Principe from 1992 to 1995.

The commercial enterprise Trump is most involved in ― high-end real estate ― is already known around the world for infamous cases of corruption and money laundering through shell companies. In 2015, the Department of Justice launched a pilot program requiring real estate buyers to disclose their real identities in a handful of major U.S. cities.

But that program did not apply to real estate purchases in Las Vegas, where Milan Investments, a limited liability company with anonymous owners, paid $3.1 million to buy 11 condos at the Trump International Las Vegas, which Trump co-owns. Because of the hidden ownership, it’s impossible to know if the sale was purely commercial.

Comparisons of the Trump administration to corrupt foreign regimes go beyond the many opportunities for influence that his continued ownership of his business creates. They also extend to the employment of his daughter Ivanka Trump and his son-in-law Jared Kushner as top White House aides.

Both Ivanka Trump and Kushner maintain loose connections to their own corporate enterprises. In fact, the day Ivanka Trump sat next to China’s Xi and his wife at a Mar-a-Lago dinner, the Chinese government approved five new trademarks for her company. Her company continues to apply for trademark protection around the world as sales of her brand soar thanks to her increased publicity.

“This is just like companies that hire the Chinese princelings as a way of getting their permits agreed on,” said Chayes, who blew the whistle on corruption in Afghanistan and studies kleptocratic networks around the world.

The presidential brand even extends to Trump’s adult sons, who have been assigned to run the family business in his stead. Even though the Trump Organization promised to halt any new foreign deals after Trump assumed office, Donald Jr. and Eric Trump still travel overseas to check on the family’s deals that were already underway. When they travel, as they have to Canada and Dubai, they show up with Secret Service in tow.

Not only is it costly for the taxpayers to send agents on international business trips, but the visual of the president’s sons arriving with armed government protection also serves the interests of the Trump business. “When a person shows up with a gigantic Secret Service contingent, that is a negotiating benefit,” Chayes said. “That improves his negotiating position when he’s negotiating with weaker and smaller countries, which is every other country in the world except China.”

In the U.S., the Trump sons are trying to expand their hotel business. They have so far had difficulty opening new hotels in cities where the president is unpopular. The family’s past cooperation with shady businessmen with unknown foreign sources of investment also posed problems for the Trump sons’ plans to brand a hotel in Dallas. Now they’re hoping to expand in regions of the country where their father is still popular.

“No one has ever tried to pull off what President Trump is attempting here, which is to turn the way in which our democracy functions into the way corrupt countries function to enrich their leaders,” Wertheimer said. “It’s just never been done, and the scale here is enormous.”

“But then again, we’re only 100 days in.”

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realestate63141 · 8 years ago