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idiopathicsmile · 7 months

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you know what really grinds my gears?

okay, bear with me: so as you may know, harry houdini and arthur conan doyle were friends, at least for a while.

by the early 1920s, both arthur conan doyle and acd's wife jean, aka lady doyle, believed whole-heartedly in spiritualism, talking to ghosts and all of that. (sidenote: this was of course right on the heels of a devastating world war and a devastating pandemic, both of which had created a huge population of grieving people, so spiritualism was having a moment.)

lady doyle sincerely thought she had the ability to go into a trance state and pass along messages in writing from the dead. she offered to do this for houdini. houdini agreed.

lady doyle attempted to channel houdini's late mother. she basically drew a cross at the top of the paper and filled it with generic platitudes addressed to "harry." houdini's mom was jewish and didn't talk like that, so houdini knew the jig was up, even if lady doyle didn't. but not wanting to make the situation awkward, he kind of went along with it to their faces.

then acd decided to publish a glowing account of the seance, and since both he and houdini were super famous, it got a lot of attention, and letters started pouring in for houdini, asking if this was true. ultimately, houdini couldn't lie about it. so he essentially said, like, "yeah, i think lady doyle THINKS she can talk to ghosts but she absolutely can't." and it ruined his friendship with acd forever.

and then of course a lot of the people running seances weren't even well-intentioned like lady doyle, they were just simple charlatans taking advantage of traumatized people mourning loved ones. in houdini's youth, he and his wife had traveled the carnival circuit where he did an act pretending to commune with spirits, so he knew all the tricks of the trade AND he had lingering guilt over having done this, AND he was infuriated by this increasingly popular wave of con artists so he decided to assemble a team of anti-grifting grifters and together they went on the road exposing whichever spiritualists were preying on the locals.

houdini's best agent was a young woman named rose mackenberg, who donned disguises to visit the fraud de jour and then importantly sussed out what non-supernatural thing was actually happening, and then houdini would demonstrate the techniques onstage to packed audiences.

(if you want to know more, check out episode 175, "ghost racket crusade" of the podcast Criminal or read Tony Wolf's book The Real-Life Ghostbusting Adventures of Rose Mackenberg.)

but yeah, what really gets my goat is that all this happened and as far as i know, we still don't have like four seasons of a Leverage-style historical procedural about rose mackenberg and the rest of the crew having adventures in the 1920s as they unmask craven hucksters all over the united states. (what we do have, apparently, is one season of a show called "houdini and doyle" which is about the oddball friendship of two contrasting men solving sometimes-actually-supernatural mysteries, and whose premise does i think at the very least a real disservice to houdini's whole quest and also totally erases rose, who is arguably the most interesting part of this story to me.)

i am just steamed about this. steamed.

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leftoblique · 5 months

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youtube

This video is important.

We all watched the hbomb vid (or at least got a summary of it) explaining how Somerton stole much of his "research" word-for-word from other queer creators and writers.

Okay, so, we unsubscribe from his channel; we've done our part; everything is cool now, right?

Unfortunately, no. The biggest damage Somerton did may not have been to those he stole from. Rather, it was inventing large swathes of LGBTQ+ history out of whole cloth, tinged with his own incel-adjacent brand of misogyny and weird anti-establishment centrism.

Worse, many of the "facts" Somerton invented are freely circulating on the internet, even on this website, and they are coloring how queers - and especially young queers - understand our own history.

So it's not enough that Somerton's empire burns and he flees with his tail between his legs. We need to actively purge all of the nonsense he injected into the discourse - out of his own personal agendas and resentments - in the years he was posing as an intellectual authority (perhaps the intellectual authority) on our history and experiences.

So give it a watch. It's not nearly as long as the hbomb video and it's neatly organized as well. Save it as a reference for the next time someone pulls out a "Somerton fact" you need to debunk.

Let's work to preserve our history from liars and charlatans.

#james somerton #todd in the shadows #queer history #queer culture #lgbtq #Youtube

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apricops · 1 year

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it sure is weird how, when I was young, so many people told me said there’s absolutely no reason to study history or philosophy, and now there’s a conveyor belt of cranks and charlatans who use bad philosophy and misinterpret history to push bigoted agendas. what a weird coincidence

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bitterkarella · 11 months

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Midnight Pals: Mr Sandman

Neil Gaiman: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale Gaiman: of the hierophant of illusions! Gaiman: the patriarch of the velvet shroud of night! Gaiman: the master Gaiman: [throwing sparkling dust] of dreams!

Gaiman: in tonight's adventure, the master of dreams is captured Koontz: oh no! Gaiman: oh yes my young friend Gaiman: imprisoned! Gaiman: in a sphere!

Gaiman: and when mankind if deprived of dreams, what can be said for our hopes? our stories? Gaiman: truly that would be the true waking death Gaiman: for do we all not star in the stories we tell ourselves? Gaiman: are we all not the heroes we aspire to be Gaiman: in our dreams?

Gaiman: the one who imprisoned the master of dreams Gaiman: a man who styles himself magus Gaiman: but nothing more than a conjurer of cheap tricks! a buffoon of the highest order! Gaiman: a charlatan who stumbled to greatness Aleister Crowley: haha this guy sounds like a chump

Aleister Crowley: this magus guy sounds like a real dope King: Poe: Lovecraft: Barker: Koontz: Crowley: what?

King: um aleister i think King: i think King: phew oh boy King: how do i say this Barker: it's you aleister Crowley: what Barker: you're the dope King: gee clive i was trying to let him down lightly Barker: yeah but this is funnier

Barker: this fail magus is 100% based on you Crowley: Crowley: Crowley: Crowley: naw that doesn't sound right Crowley: seems more of a victor neuburg type Gaiman: ah well the fail magus does have a fail son based on him

Barker: this fail magus is clearly based on you Crowley: what the fuck Crowley: what the FUCK Crowley: i'm no fail magus!!! Crowley: I'M THE GREAT BEAST Barker: haha he's gonna say the line Crowley: DO WHAT THOU WILT!! DO WHAT THOU WILT!! Barker: and there we go haha

Crowley: [grabbing Gaiman by the shirt] YOU TAKE THAT BACK, NERD, OR I'LL CLOBBER YOU Crowley: I'M THE GREAT BEAST!! DO WHAT THOU WILT! Gaiman: calm yourself, my friend Gaiman: for the tale is not yet told Crowley: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN Crowley: WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN

Gaiman: think of this magus Crowley: I'M GONNA CLOBBER YOU Gaiman: now imagine Gaiman: that he is portrayed on the screen Gaiman: by charles dance Crowley: Crowley: [releasing gaiman] yeah Crowley: yeah he would play me Crowley: yeah ok Crowley: finally! Crowley: some respect!

Gaiman: yes stentorian thespian charles dance Gaiman: a presence that commands respect Crowley: yeah ok i like this Crowley: he's like everyone's disapproving dad Gaiman: no my friend Gaiman: he is not mere dad Gaiman: he is everyone's disapproving FATHER

#clive barker #edgar allan poe #midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #dean koontz #hp lovecraft #neil gaiman #aleister crowley

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 2 months

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Strip Me to My Bones

Slowburn!Tommy x autistic!fem!reader Prologue: An Odd Woman

Summary: Tommy meets you in 1919, the beginning that feels like an ending in hindsight. Among betting men there is a vibrant culture of superstition and mysticism. It was in this industry you found your trade as a “psychic,” and met a man with a Red Right Hand.

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, contextual use of g-slur, Canon-typical violence, author is autistic, spoilers for series one possibly, slow burn, Tommy is shallow and confused at first. WC: 1.6k

1919 was an odd year for Mr. Shelby. His eyes were still bright, the boy who died in the tunnels still clung to his ankles as he stalked the roads of Birmingham. In those days, Tommy was still starving for money. For any sort of gain in power. He still slept on an old mattress with his drug of choice within reach. He still delivered his horses to mystics and magicians to psych out the competitors of the next day’s race. It was this Thomas Shelby who brought himself to the door of your flat. You, the newest little medium in Small Heath.

He had heard many things about you. How you seemed to just “know,” things. You weren’t gypsy, but there were whispers that you could see inside hearts and minds like no other. For a reasonable fee, you would read a person like a book tell them the next chapter of their life without hesitation. He was not normally the sort to seek your kind out. Thomas Shelby could see ahead just fine without the guide of psychic, genuine or charlatan in nature. Until, of course, a crate of guns came into his possession and an Irish woman sang to him from atop a table. Even the devil needs direction, sometimes.

That morning, the devil had sought you out.

Your flat looked the same as any other. There were green vines and a purple curtain blocking his view inside your window. Plain bricks on the outside. Gutter hanging off slightly from your roof. Thinking it best to just get it all over with, he knocked. You answered. And he froze.

When he first saw you, there was nothing extraordinary about you. You didn't wear a silk turban or line your eyes with black to convince your customers of some supernatural gift. You were just a young woman dressed comfortably in her little flat. A long, thick robe suited for the winter chill was tied around your body and sensible slippers on your feet. Nothing overly frilly or fanciful. Tommy would almost call your presentation "dowdy." However, what had made him freeze were your eyes. He knows the power of his own stare. Your stare was something truly unique. It was something he couldn’t quite put into words. The color of your eyes was not exceptional, nor the size of your eyes or their shape. There was a force behind the stare that had him fixed to the spot. The sound of your voice was all that put him back into the world.

“Can I help you?” your tone is flat, but he can’t decide of its intentional.

Tommy takes a glance from the corner of his eye to ensure there are no onlookers. The roads are empty. He looks into your eyes once more and says, “You see the future, I hear.”

“I see people, for a price. Not the future. Nobody can do that. It’s rather early, so I hope you’ve got money in that big coat,” you step aside to let him inside. He almost hesitates. Second thoughts are not something Tommy likes to entertain. To falter, to ruminate, is to dance at the edge of cowardice. Tommy pushes onward and crosses the threshold of your home. Thus begins the start of a most unusual affair.

The lighting was dim in your little flat, and on the walls were dozens of shadowboxes were every assortment of insect on display. In fact, nearly everything in your home appeared to be some sort of collection. Orderly in their presentation but crowded due to lack of space. All the furniture looked inherited rather than new, but that was typical. There was the scent of lavender and cedar in the air. As he passed by two sticks of incense burning on the mantle of your fireplace, he found the origin of the fragrance.

‘No trace of any other resident in the home. No husband. How modern’, he thought. As he made his observations, Tommy was painfully aware of your eyes on his back. You guided him silently to a small room with two sofas facing each other. He sat opposite to you, not bothering to remove his cap. As you sit across from him, your eyes are everywhere but him. Roving about the room as you tap your thumb to the tip of each finger on your hand. By the way you were sitting, someone just entering the room might assume you were a guest by how stiff your posture was. Back completely straight, both feet firmly planted on the floor. This was your home, your time, and Tommy looked more at ease sitting on your own furniture.

“I normally have tea prepared, but you don’t drink tea anyway, so I won’t bother with the kettle this time,” you say as your bottom hits the sofa cushion. He hears you. He hears you make a correct assumption about him, but he does not show his acknowledgement.

Tommy threads his fingers together on his lap, “They say you can see inside of people, tell them things about them that even they don’t know.”

Blinking owlishly at him you reply, “My, that’s a lovely review of my services! Should put that on a sign outside my doorway. Though I would rather know why you came to see me, Mr. Shelby. You are Mr. Shelby yes?”

“That I am,” he nearly laughs, “and I am not entirely sure why I came to see you either.”

Your eyes snap onto his own and again he feels caught off guard by it. Slowly, you lean forward, “It’s not like you to need help. You avoid seeking it. Something has happened to you that has never happened before, you do not know how to carry on because you cannot fall back on learned tactics to navigate the storm.”

He says nothing. Tommy finds you don’t require his input to carry on speaking as you tilt your head and continue. As you speak, you never break eye contact. Your gaze is one that leaves him feeling stripped to the bone. Flesh peeled back and pinned so that you may inspect him further with an objective, curious eye, "One of the walking wounded, soldier come home from war. You don't sleep well. None of you do. But, you hide it better than most."

"Quite the assumption," he deadpanned.

You carry on as if not hearing him, “A Catholic without Christ. Guilty but without remorse. You only follow yourself and yet you have lost faith within. So, you act out of your own character to try to find a solution to a problem you’ve made yourself. A problem with solutions you can't commit to.”

Tommy’s heart is beating faster in his chest. The plain-faced woman who greeted him at the door has been replaced. Your face seems to change, the sir around you shifting. There is a thrill in being seen. A thrill, but also annoyance. “And what would you do to solve such a problem?”

“It wouldn’t help you to know what anyone else would do. Even if my way was best, you wouldn’t obey it. Obedience is not something you do willingly,” there’s a smile in your eyes that makes his hands tighten around each other. “Is your greatest problem above, below, or beside you?”

His face remains stoic as he mulls over your odd question. He thinks of those beneath him, the factory workers who riot and cause him distraction. Beside him, his brothers in arms and brothers by blood. Ada. Freddie…. Grace. And then he thinks of Campbell and Kimber. “Above me, always.”

You nod, “There was no need for you to come see me. You know the answer to the question before you asked it. The greatest woe for you is that there are matters of the heart keeping you from stabbing upwards to the enemies who stand over you. You aren’t used to having that sort of obstacle... You need to decide what you want more and act accordingly. To have both things will end poorly, but I can't stop you. Nobody can but you.”

For a moment, he feels a sense of relief. It had been many years since the words of a stranger had done that to him. This feeling was overtaken by an immediate realization. He had come to you under the assumption that you were gifted by second-sight. Yet… You had no cards, no crystals, did not say a prayer or even a hymn in a nonsense language.

“You’re no medium,” he states it as fact. Not as a question or accusation. Though, he watches to see how you take it. Tommy likes to see how people respond to being caught, he finds it to be the most revealing time for most. For the third or fourth time since he laid eyes on you, you defied expectation.

With a slow shrug you say, “I’ve never made the claim that I was one. Everyone started saying so one day and I decided not to correct them. I just read people.”

‘What an odd woman,’ Tommy leaned back in his seat. Face still as stone. As he looked at you, your posture returned to that stiff, nearly-too-straight, position from before. He could see why the average man would see you as something beyond the natural. Ordinary to otherworldly. An odd woman indeed. You stand from your couch with a small, crooked smile, “That’ll be ten quid, Mr. Shelby, a discount for a first-time reading. It'll be thirteen for the next time.”

He pushed the money into your hands and said, "Won't be a next time." You gave him no audible response as you walked him to your door and released him from the dreamworld your home had trapped him in. Tommy did not look back as he walked three paces from your door and lit a cigarette. No one had seen him and he had a feeling you wouldn't share his visit with others.

Tommy pushed you from his mind to focus on what may come next.

The rest of the day moved quickly and slowly all at once after he left your little flat. He swore to himself that he would never go back. Swore that he hated every instant spent in your dark home that smelled of lavender and cedar. Swore that he despised the way you peeled back his skin with that glare so sharp. No, he couldn't feel them on him. Not at all.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x you #Thomas Shelby x autistic!reader #autistic!reader

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yuurei20 · 5 months

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Strange question but!! Yk how the villains are treated as heroes? How on earth did the heroes stories work if they, uh, yk, dont have the villains? Like i briefly remember TWST!Jafar hijacking Aladdin’s plan to fake being a prince, so theres not rlly any more “aladdin” story, but im curious how other stories went if u know! Are the OG heroes still treated as heroes, etc etc, that fun stuff

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question!!

The different interpretations of history that seem exist in Twst are fascinating, and one of my favorite things is the part in Book 6 where Lilia seems to insinuate that the Disney stories that we know might not actually be what really happened, because history is written by the victors:

These "classic" stories--were they, too, twisted to suit an agenda? Is the truth closer to what is taught as history in Twst, or is it somewhere in the middle? It is so interesting to think about!

For the most part it seems that the heroes from the stories we know are not turned into villains in Twst, and the deeds that are attributed to them were actually done by multiple characters from different folklore:

For example, Harveston has stories about miners and customs based on "a young lady who made a wish at a well," a "traveler" who cleaned a stranger's home and then a tale about "some princess who wished to fall in love right away," as if the young lady, princess and traveler are three separate people.

While basing their traditions on the miners, the lady and traveler, they also deify the Fairest Queen, as if they are all independent individuals with no overlap.

One of the more interesting parts of the Fairest Queen's history, in particular, is that there is actually a "dastardly villain" in Harveston folklore that stalks a woman who is then saved by forest creatures.

The huntsman is--just like the queen--not a villain in the Twst universe. Who was who, and what really happened? 👀

For the Scalding Sands, it seems that the unnamed princess and the sultan from local stories are just as revered as the Sorcerer of the Sands himself, with the sultan known to be the person who named the Sorcerer as his vizier and retaining their connection from the story we know.

Much like in Harveston, the history of the Scalding Sands seems to attribute what we believe to be the history of just one character to multiple individuals: Kalim talks about the Sorcerer saving his country from a street rat, who was a swindler/charlatan/usurper who tried to trick the sultan and princess, in a rare case of a "hero" being vilified.

But they also have folklore about "a poor but kind-hearted young man" who shared his food with children, and whose marriage to the beautiful princess they celebrate every year with a festival.

Whereas the Disney movies make the charlatan and the kind man into one person, in Twst's history it seems they were two different people.

Diasomnia is very big on the Thorn Fairy, and they also talk about the human king who feared her, the princess whose birthday she was not invited to (Silver: "Was their king raised in a barn?") and the three presents that the princess received.

Lilia talks about a trio of fairies that were not able to break the Thorn Fairy's curses and also put an entire kingdom to sleep, while Silver comments on how Lilia is consciously, intentionally emulating the three fairies from that tale with his cooking.

Silver and Malleus discuss "some faeries" raising a child for 16 years without magic, but they do not seem to know why they did so, and it is unclear if they believe that those faeries and the three faeries that put the kingdom to sleep are the same or different people.

Heartslabyul seems to separate Alice into two different characters as well, referring to a 1-km-tall giant that the Queen of Hearts tried in court and a child that got lost in the castle as if they were two people.

The only reference we get of the "heroes" of the Lion King tale are Jack referring to the King of Beast's "rascal of a nephew" and Leona mentioning that he deposed his brother "to build a better, wiser kingdom."

While the characters seem similar to the stories we know it's possible that the timelines are slightly different, with the rebirth of the pridelands being attributed to the King of Beasts himself rather than his nephew.

The history of the Sea Witch in Twst might be the most fascinating: the characters reference the Sea Witch taking someone's voice for a contract and making a shapeshifting potion to facilitate love between a mermaid and a human, but also turning herself into a human and being proposed to by a prince the next day, with no acknowledgement that the human from the first tale and the prince from the second might have been the same person.

They also talk about the eels flipping over a boat and a mermaid princess who had trouble walking on land, but there is no mention of the princess being in the boat in the eel story.

Octavinelle even acknowledges that the Sea Witch once made herself huge and sunk a ship with a whirlpool and "some even labeled her a monster," saying that she was later lauded as a compassionate figure after turning over a new leaf. (While the less-than-pleasant deeds done by the Sorcerer, the Fairest Queen and the King of Beasts in the stories that we know are never mentioned.)

Silver's tale from Halloween seems to be an exception to this rule. Everything done by the "hero" in the tale we know is still attributed to the hero in the story that Silver knows, and the enemy army is still the enemy army.

To the initial question: it seems that the heroes from the histories that we know are still being regarded as heroes in Twst (though they tend to get separated into multiple people), while the characters that we know as villains are also highly regarded. This sometimes includes their pasts (in the case of the Sea Witch and the Queen of Hearts), being separated from their pasts (in the case of the Hunter) or with no mention of their pasts (the King of Beasts, the Sorcerer of the Sands, the Fairest Queen, the Thorn Fairy).

(Not a lot of information about the King of the Underworld when compared to the others! Idia mostly just talks about how charismatic he was. Ortho suggests something about "the truth" about him being closer to Idia's own situation than they have been taught, but Idia is not convinced.)

Also: there is a reference to a hero rescuing his ladylove from the Underworld in Book 6, so it seems the hero in that tale remains a hero in Twst as well!

#twstask

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bandersnatchers · 7 months

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BG3 is full of story parallels and foils, and the current one that has me in a chokehold is the parallel or foil you can make with Dark Urge/Astarion and Dark Urge/Gortash.

Gortash is a power-hungry, manipulative, and incredibly charismatic man. He was sold as a child and then dedicated his life to gaining power so no one could hurt him again. Pre-tadpole Dark Urge (durge) was forcibly dedicated to Bhaal from a very young age and committed a long list of atrocities without guilt. Durge was not allowed room in their life outside of Bhaal. Together with Ketheric, the two made a plan to enslave the world.

And you can recreate this with Dark Urge and Astarion. You can become the Slayer, dedicate your life to Bhaal once again, and you can encourage Astarion to remain power-hungry. You can encourage him to ascend and wipe out thousands of others for power. You can let him give into the fear of being hurt, and let him hurt others instead.

Or you could not.

You could take a lost and ruthless killer and a terrified and manipulative charlatan, and you can have them look at each other. And you can have them rely on each other. And you can have them oh so slowly heal each other, to become safe places for each other, to have them of course, mess up and disagree and then agree and disagree again, but that’s normal. This disagreeing and agreeing is normal, and the most important part is that neither of them leaves. And the most important part is that both of them are surrounded by a group of dear friends, family, people who are also damaged, companions whom they can find laughter and safety and love and purpose from.

And you can become a foil to what you were. You can become, not quite what you could have been if those past atrocities hadn’t happened to you or Astarion, but you can become someone who looked at what had happened to you, and said - Enough, No longer.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #dark urge #astarion #enver gortash

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tagmusicblog · 1 month

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rowland's bio on the 2006 birthday party website

i went to the pop crimes rowland tribute show recently and some guy behind looked at me and told his mate "he looks like he knows shivers" 🫤

transcript ↓

Had attended Swinburne Free School from which many key figures in the late 70’s Melbourne scene emerged.

Rowlands legendary band The Young Charlatans played only 13 shows before dissolving through internal competitiveness (Ollie Olsen being the other singer and writer).

He joined The Boys Next Door shortly afterwards, bringing with him a swag of great songs including “Shivers”, which 20 years on has come to be considered a classic.

With his addition the band took an enormous leap forward musically and Rowland began developing a guitar style as unique as the band would later become.

His influence on guitarists around the world has probably been as significant as The Birthday Party’s has been in general.

But Rowland was also a singer and frustrations with not getting to sing very often and Nick wanting to sing only his own lyrics became contributing factors in the internal breakdown of the group.

He has subsequently worked on many projects with Lydia Lunch and exercised his vocal chords extensively with These Immortal Souls.

His brilliant first “solo” album “Teenage Snuff Film” came out in 1999

#they didnt even play shivers man😭😭😭😭😭 called out #we met mick and lydia though! and aaw gen and harry :3 #rowland s howard #the birthday party #these immortal souls #the young charlatans #tbp #pop crimes #post punk #goth #old internet #the boys next door #australian rock #aussie rock #BDP #t

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thought--bubble · 3 months

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Like a Vice

(Dark) Will (Salad Days) X (Tom's GF Reader)

Warnings After The Cut

Will (Salad Days) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Cheating, Obsession, Jealousy, Rage, Dubcon.

"I'm a dolt! A fool! A charlatan!" You groan as you roll over, clutching your face.

"You made a mistake.... baby, it happens." Your best friend Leah rubs your back, attempting to make you feel better.

"A mistake? I cheated on Tom!" You groan louder. "I cheated on Tom." Saying the words out loud makes you sick to your stomach.

"You still haven't told me what actually happened or who it happened with," she continues to rub your back. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"Believe me, what happened and with who matters very little" You roll over on your back. "I am just going to forget this ever happened"

That is much easier said than done when the whole thing plays in your mind on an endless loop. The fight with Tom. The alcohol consumed at the local pub. HIM walking into the pub.

You rub your eyes trying to push it all out of your mind but like a never ending montage, flashes of his smile and his soft laugh sitting next to you at the bar flash by every time you close your eyes.

You can't tell Leah it was Will. You really can't. She has known him since they were young kids and on top of that, your boyfriend Tom? He is one of his closest friends. This entire situation is completely fucked up.

It didn't seem so bad when the two of you were just laughing away at the bar. It didn't even seem that bad when he offered to walk you home, since it was late and you were his friend's girlfriend it would be perfectly normal for him to walk you home, chivalrous even. You somehow didn't even question yourself when you invited him in for tea. As a thank you for walking you home, of course.

Now any rational decent woman would have had some tea and sent him on his way, instead, as you put the kettle on and drunkenly lean against your counter he came up behind you wrapping his arms around you and whispering in your ear. You should have pushed him away. What did he even whisper? You don't remember, what you do remember is before you knew it, you were bent over the kitchen counter screaming the name Will while the beautiful emerald necklace Tom had gotten you bounced off your chest.

Which is why you find yourself curled up in your bed two days later feeling like the worst person in the world while your best friend strokes your back.

"You're still coming to Matt's party tonight, right?" Leah says softly.

"I would really rather not..... but if I don't go, Tom will know something is up. " You groan while rubbing your eyes again. I have to go and just pretend everything is normal somehow."

"You know, you could always come clean? Tell the truth and see what happens?" She gives you a little smile.

"I could, I know I should. I'm just not ready yet." You sigh. "It didn't mean anything, and Tom, he means everything to me."

"Well, just think about it, ok? Keeping a secret like this. It will drive you mental. " Leah's words repeat in your head long after she leaves, all through getting reading, brushing your hair, putting on your makeup.

"Might be too late. Think i am already mental. " You mutter under your breath as you walk outside, pulling your jacket tight around you. Matt doesn't live far from your flat, and the quiet walk in the cool, crisp air was soothing.

You were worried about seeing Tom, but you were even more worried about seeing Will. The day after your little after the pub romp, he had shown up at the convenience store you work at. He bought himself a pack of smokes, and for a few minutes, you spoke to each other as if nothing had happened. As if you were just mere acquaintances strung together only by your mutual connection to Tom.

That is until he offered you to meet him for a drink sometime. You shut it down right away, telling him there was no way that would happen. The air between the two of you had chilled so abruptly after that statement that you had felt a shiver run through your body. He left quickly after that, but the look on his face, a mixture of anger and grief, hadn't yet left your mind.

As you walk into the party, there is music blasting and people chatting. Smoke fills the air, and alcohol is everywhere. This is how the boys partied. Always to excess. Where they got the money for this, you never knew, but they always made sure you had a good time, and for that, you were thankful.

When you spot Tom sitting on the sofa chatting and laughing with Matt, you quickly make your way over and sink down on the sofa next to him.

"Ahh, there she is!" Tom kisses your cheek."You are so beautiful. Did ya know that?" His cheeks are red, and his face is a bit warm.

"Started without me, I see?" You chuckle and lean in placing a small kiss on his cheek.

"Not my fault! You took forever to get here. I was starting to think you weren't gonna come at all. " He nuzzles into your neck, placing soft kisses along it. "I'm really glad you did, though."

You giggle at the sensation as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you in closer. The joy you were feeling was suddenly replaced with fear, as you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You could feel him watching you.

You slowly turn your head to the side and see him. Will is standing leaning against the wall nursing a beer. Tom, oblivious to the fact that you have an audience, continues with his small kisses and displays of affection. While Will continues to look straight into your eyes.

He is incredibly handsome. There is no denying that, his tall, slender figure, the sharp features of his face, his striking blue eyes. Those same blue eyes that were currently burrowing into your soul.

Those eyes on you in tandem with Tom's wandering hands and kisses feel overwhelming in this moment. Your mind screaming at you, how could i have done this?

You jump up shocking Tom. "I'm gonna go out for a smoke, you say, quickly snatching your bag off the couch.

"You don't have to go out for a smoke, look round, everyone's smokin" Tom laughs and gestures toward three separate party goers who all have a cigarette in their mouths or between their fingers.

"Just need some air, I'll be right back." You don't give him time to respond and hastily skate from the couch toward the front door. You need to get out of there, away from those eyes. Those eyes that look at you, the eyes that know what you have done.

The second the cool air hits your face, you feel yourself begin to calm down. You quickly hop down the steps and move around the side of the flat into the small alleyway between the two adjacent buildings. You lean your back and head up against the wall and breathe deep.

"This will all blow over," you whisper to yourself. "It was just a mistake"

"Was it?"

You open your eyes quickly and look toward the opening of the Alleyway. Will standing there a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

You look away from him and grimace. "Yes, it was"

"Nah..... " He tosses his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his foot. "Nah.. it wasn't a mistake."

You quickly turn back to him, and you can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. "Yes, it was. I'm not sure what you are thinking here, Will, but believe me, it was a mistake, and it won't be happening again"

"That right?" He stalks toward you, his eyes squinted. "No love, that wasn't a mistake, I know mistakes, make lots of em, this? what happened between us? this was no mistake"

"Will, I'm with Tom." You back away from him a bit, and when he notices that, he cages you in with his arms.

"You think I care about tha? Stay wif em. Don't stay wif em. Don't make a difference to me. " He moves his body up against yours.

"Will..." You attempt to push him back a bit by his shoulders, but he doesn't budge.

"Admit it." He tilts his head to the side to maintain eye contact.

"Admit what?" You whine exasperated."What do you actually want from me??"

"I want you to admit it wasn't a mistake." He takes your chin delicately in his hand. "Admit that you want me."

"I ... I .. I'm with Tom. " You try to turn your head from him, but he tightens his grip.

"That isn't what i asked ya." He gently rubs his nose against the tip of yours. "Admit that you want me" ....... he slightly turns his head and, under his breath whispers "that i matter"

You feel your heart break just a little. "Will, I want Tom." You fight to hold back the tears that are fighting their way out. You never meant to hurt him like this. It was all just a big mistake.

"Yea." He holds you there against the wall, looking down at the ground deep in thought. The minutes tick by, and you feel frozen in place. As if you were to move, it could break the calm that has settled over the two of you.

You finally build up the strength to speak and decide it would be best to simply let him down gently. "This is over now, ok? We can just go back to what it was before"

His grip on your chin tightens again as his back stiffens and his jaw clenches. When he lifts his head and looks back at you, he is furious. "Go back? You want me to go back? Go back to watching you with Tom?"

His body is shaking as he presses you even more tightly to the wall.

"No," he whispers before he slams his lips down on yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You squeak and push against his shoulders, but he keeps kissing you with a desperation, a longing.

"I won't walk away from you.... I can't" He huffs between kisses. "You're everything"

He lowers his kisses down to your neck. "Will!" You gasp.

He grips you by your thighs, pulling you up and pinning you between him and the wall. He runs his hands over your hips and down the curve of your ass.

Between his kisses, his hands, and the sounds of wanting he was making your body betrays you. You gently rock yourself against him.

"Fuckk" He groans quietly pushing himself up against you harder. He reaches under your skirt and can feel your wetness through your panties.

He closes his eyes and bites his lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side and slides a finger into your wet center.

You tightly grip his shoulder as he slides his digit up against your delicate walls pushing in farther with each stroke.

"See? You do want me. " He bites at the side of your jaw as you pant above him. He crooks his finger inside you and grins with pride as he finds the spongey spot that has you whimpering in his arms. "Come on. say it. " His voice drops to a whisper."Please say it"

"I want you" You are so close to your end you would practically say anything but this is enough for him. He pulls his finger out and quickly loosens his belt.

You groan at the loss of sensation and rock your hips against him

"I got you love" He pulls his jeans down just enough too free his cock that is already standing at full attention. He tightly grips your thighs as he pushes himself into you.

"Say it again" He holds one thigh up by his waist his other hand holding you up by the ass as he gently a slowly fucks into you.

He nuzzles his nose into the shell of your ear "Please say it again"

"I want you" The words come out again, Like they are being drawn from you, barely above a whisper.

He quickens his pace burying his face in your neck "I want you too" He bites into your shoulder and then kisses his bite gently.

You wrap your legs tightly around his hips as he bucks up into you.

You close your eyes and angle your head towards the sky. You do want him,, you shouldn't because you love and adore Tom, but you want Will all the same.

"Say it for me" He grunts as his thrusts get messy and more desperate . "Just once more"

"I want you!" You moan more than say.

He grips your hips tightly, rolling them against his body giving you that sweet, sweet friction you are so desperately craving pulling you over the edge of bliss with him.

He doesn't pull out and you are far to fucked out to care. He holds you there against the wall kissing your cheek and jawline as you pant breathlessly.

When you finally catch your breath and lower your legs, you hold your arm out against the wall to steady yourself.

"Will.... I don't know what just came over me" You nervously brush your fingers through your hair. "This can't happen again.... we have to end this"

He fixes his jeans and looks back at you with a cocky smirk.

His eyes land on the necklace hanging around your neck. He reaches over and quickly tugs it breaking the chain and stuffing it into his pocket.

"I ain't ending shit"

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association-of-freed-people · 2 years

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More and more people are calling Joe Biden’s lies “gaffes” and blaming them on senility.

This has become commonplace in the media and I’m seeing it arise in the rhetoric of his political opponents both inside and outside his party.

While he is certainly in cognitive decline, Joe Biden is a habitual liar who has integrated falsehoods in his anecdotes to the point that they’re works of fiction.

He’s done this for political effect his entire career, the problem is he’s done so without lasting consequence.

For contrast Trump would regularly be roasted by corporate outlets for “alternative facts” which were often facts omitted by media or a differing opinion on whatever issue.

Meanwhile Biden is a man who is a known serial plagiarizer bold enough to claim the words of Robert Kennedy and Neil Kinnock among others, and a man who falsely claimed he was a professor for four years at Penn in a public speech not more than two years ago. He’s the author of Corn Pop and Other Tall Tales.

I suppose many are too young to remember the breadth of this clown’s record.

It’s distinguished even within the cesspool of conmen and charlatans that populate Washington DC.

His lies are not gaffes, they’re how this creature has lived his entire life.

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saneijeijei · 5 months

Text

Academy of Sword and Magiс

[1\?]

Penelope and Callisto's relationship begins six months before the young woman's debut. Eckhart is in love with the Crown Prince and believes that her feelings are mutual. They meet secretly, knowing that neither the duke nor the emperor will support their relationship due to political tension inside the capital. They do not show their feelings and what they know in public, for fear of being revealed.

But after Yvonne returns, everything changes. Callisto rejects Penelope and laughs if she talks about their relationship, saying that she allegedly made them up. Heartbroken Penelope barely remembers how the debut is going, how the terrible thing happens - the poisoning of Yvonne.

The whole family blames her for this, not wanting to listen to any excuses and evidence. Left completely alone under a house ban in her room, the young woman did not know what to do when an angry Callisto came to her, wanting to avenge his new lover.

Penelope, miraculously manages to survive this meeting and escape.

Thanks to the low-ranking magic she learned, after the events of the hunting competitions, she was able to leave the capital and go to the most remote part of the empire, where she wanted to settle down and start living again, hoping that the duchy, like the Crown Prince, would not search for her anymore. They enjoying happy life with the real daughter of the Eckhart family.

But she didn't know at all how she could make money here. The jewelry and the torn dress that she was wearing, she sold for good money on the first day. But money tended to run out, and it was a bad idea to think about work when they were completely gone. Climbing into her small travel bag, Penelope found a fragment of a Mirror.

"What a useless garbage," she snorted and wanted to throw it into the swamp, as the shard began to shine brightly in her hands, showing her and the fact that she put the shard of the mirror back in the bag and went somewhere. "What the hell?"

Thinking about it, she decided not to throw it away and watch. Maybe the thing wasn't as useless as she thought it was. In the evening of the same day, after a hearty snack and going into the room she rented in a tavern, she took out a fragment and tried to make it show at least something other than a reflection again. But nothing worked. Giving up, she muttered: "Maybe I was dreaming.."

The shard shone again. Penelope looked there and saw herself creating something out of boards and fabric. Finally, she understood how it worked and figured out how to make money.

"Wizards? You mean the charlatans?" the owner of the tavern was perplexed with the guest's question. "If you need useless freeloaders, then they live on the outskirts of the city, towards Aunt Dor's farm. One of them also has such a strange sign.. With a cat? Or something similar to it."

Thanking for the information, Penelope went to the local wizard. The middle-aged man was immensely pleased with her until he realized that she was rather not his client, but just a random passerby who was unlikely to give money.

"I need a room. For divination, I see the future of people and can help them find out the truth." Penelope explained.

"A fortune teller? I hardly believe it, but if you pay rent, I will be glad to consider you a fortune teller" the man happily rubbed his hands, hoping for a promising income in his pocket from another "charlatan".

What was his surprise when the number of customers in a small fortune-teller's room became more and more every month. At first, the young woman did not charge her clients who were residents of a small town. Satisfied and especially impressionable, they told their visit to Penelope to their neighbors, and those to other neighbors from the neighboring village, spreading the story further and further.

In addition to ordinary citizens, aristocrats began to visit it, although not of the upper class, but still. From earls to viscounts. Fearing that she might be recognized, Penelope decided to furnish the room with an entourage and wear a suit that hides her eyes and hair. In it, she looked like a mystical fortune teller whose gaze is hidden from the visitor.

The fee for services grew, Penelope paid the wizard money for rent and assistance in servicing clients. A simple room has turned into a real mystical corner with incense and magical objects, one view showing that a real member of the magical world works here.

But in addition to the man, a nanny settled in the house, who looked after little Judith, who required a lot of attention and time, which Penelope did not have because of constant work and a desire to feed and provide a comfortable future.

Until one day, a strange old man comes to her for a foresighted session, asking her to tell about him and his past. Of course, she had similar clients who, due to illness, forgot where they lived or something important that they needed to remember and she did not charge them, letting them go with a pure soul to their loved ones.

But this old man was definitely not that kind of person. His past was filled with horror and death. A shard of a mirror reflecting fragments of the past into a glass ball chilled the blood in her veins. The old man, with a certain weariness and sadness in his eyes, watched his past.

"Let the Mirror show what will happen when I leave the city," he asked. "How do you know--?.." asked Penelope, frightened. "I know a lot of things, child. And I know that very soon the knight's guard will arrive here and take you to the capital. Aren't you, as one of the last representatives of the ancient magicians, afraid to be on your knees again in court for something you didn't do?" "Wh-what?.." "Ask the Mirror to show you if you think I'm lying, child. My name is Uwe, I am an elder from a small town where ancient magicians and ordinary magicians who were expelled from their lands live. I've heard a lot about your abilities and I see that you can use a fragment of an ancient magical artifact - the Mirror of Truth. This is amazing and truly an innate talent that not everyone can possess. I've come to help you. There aren't many like you and me left, but there is a place where you and your daughter will be safe. I can offer my protection and help so that you can live in peace without hiding behind all this masquerade. But we don't have much time and we need to decide right now."

Penelope looked at the flashing Mirror of Truth and clenched her hands into a fist nodded to the man. She needed to escape anyway if the imperial knights were already heading here. There's no reason for her to stay in this city. And Judith, too.

Seven years later, the empire makes a truce with the ancient magicians after a fierce struggle against Leila. In order to consolidate the alliance, the emperor and the elders sign a trade agreement on the purchase and sale, as well as participation in the cutting of precious stones for magical weapons. The Empire also creates conditions for magicians so that they can receive education and not be infringed on their rights.

In order to strengthen the established relations, an academy is being built on the territory of the empire, where both people and wizards will study in the same building in order to create a new generation that will rely on each other. Duke Eckhart's (Derrick) adopted daughter, 7-year-old Nora, and other children from aristocratic families become one of the elementary school students. Nora was a reserved but very kind child who was bullied despite the authority of her family.

The girl was taken from a shelter sponsored by the Eckhart family. Nora, who had lost her parents and was left completely alone, appreciated the duchy for sheltering her and giving her the opportunity to get an education that her own father could not have dreamed of. She was a timid and kind girl who knew that if she rebuffed her abusers, she could be worse off because of it, and not them at all. She kept silent about it and endured, pretending that she was not upset at all by the words of her peers.

Fortunately, by the beginning of the year, her roommate did not come because of family problems, so the first months of study the whole room was in her harness and no one could tell classmates how she cried, remembering all the hurtful things that other children did to her.

On one of the everyday school days, the girls called her behind the building to talk about her being too smart during math lessons. But as soon as the main offender managed to open her mouth, dirty water poured on top of her, which was used to wash the floor in the classroom. Offended girls screamed promising to take revenge on prankster until she saw who did it.

"You shouted too loudly, it prevented me from calmly preparing for the lesson," said a golden-haired girl looking out of the window with a bucket in her hands. "Oh, I'm sorry, Judith!..We're leaving!" classmates immediately ran away with a bully, apparently not wanting to get involved with a stranger.

Nora wanted to thank the savior, but Judith quickly lost interest and went back to class closing the window without saying anything. Eckhart spent the rest of the day in peace and quiet. Tired of the amount of knowledge she had gained, Nora went into her room and realized with horror that the same girl was sitting on the next bed.

"Hi, I'm Judith and I'm your roommate."

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