#And Fred replied that they should ask Christian.

[ladyvictory22]

Everyone knows, in fact Vasseur is the first to get on the Ship

#Like when they asked Fred if Toto was a good roommate #And Fred replied that they should ask Christian. #christian horner x toto wolff #toto wolff #christian horner #christian/toto #hornywolff #I saw this meme a long time ago #I bring it back

[totowlff]

chapter four — distance education

➝ nobody said that learning remotely was easy

➝ word count: 2,9k

➝ warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, masturbation, use of toys

➝ author’s note: i know it wasn't what you expected, but i hope it's what you wanted.

The sun was shining brightly over Melbourne that morning. The movement in the paddock was intense, an indication that this would be a day of intense activities on the track. However, Toto's good mood was not due to the conversations with George and Lewis or the positive prognosis for the sessions that would take place later. It was because he received, early in the morning, a good morning message from Ava.

Contrary to what he would have liked, she had stayed working in London. He even tried to convince her to go with him, but Ava refused, stating that the distance would serve Toto's learning process and she hoped he would take it seriously. And by taking it seriously, she meant that he should completely control his sexual desires and impulses.

It was simple in theory.

But, in practice, it was the biggest challenge of his life.

It started during the flight to Australia, when Ava sent a photo of a drawer full of lingerie and babydolls, stating that she was undecided which one to wear for their next meeting. With his lower lip between his teeth, he typed that he didn't mind that, since he knew she would look wonderful in all of them.

“Wrong answer”, Toto thought, as he stared at the photo Ava had sent.

In front of a mirror, her face was hidden by her cell phone, giving all the attention to the babydoll made entirely of lace that showed off all her curves, leaving practically nothing to his imagination. Letting out a heavy sigh, he typed out the first compliment he could think of before looking back at the image, practically mesmerized.

— Buying new pajamas? — someone asked next to him. When Toto looked up, he found the mischievous smile of Frédéric, who had the newspaper he was reading on his lap.

— Huh?

— Is that babydoll for you? — the team principal rephrased his question, pointing his head at the cell phone screen, where Ava's photo was still in display. Staring at the image again, Toto felt his face heat up.

— No, no, I'm not buying anything — he replied quickly.

— So you're just watching porn, got it — Fred said, before letting out a laugh, making Toto flinch, feeling his cheeks even hotter than before.

— It's not porn, it's just a photo.

— Very sexy by the way…

Noticing that the Frenchman was still staring at the image of the woman on the screen, he tried to hide it, preventing him from seeing more. It sounded counterproductive, but Toto couldn't help but feel a certain anger when he thought about Ava getting the attention of other men. It was a selfish feeling, not to say naive, since he knew the possibility of a dominant having several submissives, but Toto wanted him to be the only one in her life.

— Who is she?

— Who are you talking about? — he returned the question.

— The woman, who is she? — Fred insisted.

— Nobody.

— Your new girlfriend?

— What if she is?

The Ferrari boss smiled.

— Consider me surprised since no one has entered that ice heart of yours in years — Fred said — I think the last woman you introduced me to was your sister and that was almost ten years ago.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— You really are an idiot.

— That means you have a girlfriend, then — the man murmured, before looking to the side — Christian, did you know that Toto is dating?

Turning his face, he noticed that Christian Horner was heading back to his seat on the plane. He was returning from another trip to the bathroom, courtesy of the food poisoning he had arranged to disturb him during the flight. However, his indisposition did not prevent a sparkle from appearing in his eyes, as well as a malicious smile.

— Does he? What's her name?

— It doesn't matter to you — Toto murmured, while a new notification from Ava flashed on the phone’s screen. That made him quickly take the device in his hands, expectation growing in his chest — Actually, it doesn't matter to both of you, I shouldn't have said anything.

As if realizing he was anxious, the two team principals laughed.

— Apparently she's a good catch — Christian murmured, as he sat in his seat — Is she younger than you? Be careful not to bore her with your old man things, women don't like that.

— Old man things?

— Yeah, things old people do…

— Like shooting at plates in the English countryside? — Toto questioned, a certain irritation crackling in his voice. Christian narrowed his eyes, his lips pressed together for a few seconds.

— Like being an asshole on a plane — he said, before muttering a curse under his breath and turning around, walking quickly towards the bathroom. Toto's eyes met Frédéric's, who was shaking his head.

— You two are completely insufferable — he muttered.

Rolling his eyes, Toto simply closed the partition between his cabin and the plane's aisle. After taking a deep breath, he turned his attention to his phone, which still had Ava's notification shining on the screen. Unlocking the device, he came across a new photo of her, this time, with an even more daring piece. With gold details that resembled the reflections of the sun on sea water, the fabric did little to cover her nipples and pussy. “Do you think this one is better?”, the caption of the image asked him.

Before he could type the answer, a video appeared on the screen, his eyes widening at the sight of the thumbnail, his cheeks unbearably hot. Running a hand through his hair, Toto shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, without taking his eyes off Ava's tour of the piece, revealing the completely open back with a giggle.

— Maybe I'll use it while I suck you, so you can have a privileged view — she asked in the video, with a suggestive tone — Can you imagine seeing my pussy dripping with lust in front of you, begging for your cock inside it? Tell me what you think, little boy.

“This woman is going to kill me”, he thought to himself, putting down his cell phone and finding a not-so-subtle bulge in his pants. As he covered himself with the blanket he had been given by a flight attendant hours before, Toto couldn't help but be impressed by the power Ava had over him, even though she was hundreds of miles away.

And it had only been the beginning.

There hadn't been a day that she hadn't sent him a provocative or suggestive message. The photos of Ava's lingerie collection were already accumulating in his private folder, as were the videos and audios, all with a domineering tone that made him think about taking off his own pants and taking the matter into his own hands once and for all.

— You can't, Toto, you can't — he repeated to himself one night after dropping the phone on the bed, the image of Ava's new skirt, the back of which was made of buckles on a transparent tulle, shining on the screen. He had given his own pleasure into her hands, and that meant it was no longer up to him to decide about it.

The worst thing about it wasn't the distance or the maddening lust, but rather that all it took was one stern look from Ava for him to confess every time he had touched himself without her permission. And the consequences would be brutal, he was sure.

It was that context that made the arrival of Friday and the free practice sessions a real relief for Toto. In that situation, all he needed was something to occupy his mind, other than the impressive amount of lace and satin pieces that Ava had in her closet.

After waving to a circuit employee and taking a selfie with a boy waiting near the structure set up for the Mercedes, he entered the space with a smile. Saying a cheerful good morning to the catering team and making a joke with one of the engineers who was having coffee there, Toto headed to the small office set up for him.

Dropping his carry-on bag onto the table, he had just sat down when his cell phone began to vibrate in front of him. When he picked up the device, Toto felt a shiver run through his body when he read Ava's name on the caller ID, along with the word FaceTime. “What does she want now?”, he asked himself, before touching the green circle.

— Good morning, little boy — Ava's teasing voice sounded through the cubicle. Taking up practically the entire screen, her face had a sweet, almost innocent smile.

— Good morning, ma'am — he replied, pausing for a few seconds as he remembered the time zone — Good evening, I mean.

— How are you? Excited for today's sessions?

— I'm fine, ma'am. Excited may be too much, but yes I am looking for it.

— That's good — Ava murmured.

— What about you?

— I'm fine too — she replied — Just a little bored.

— Bored? — Toto said, giggling nervously. Ava nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips, neatly painted a shade of pink.

— Yeah. So I decided to do something.

— To call me?

— No — she laughed — I called you to show you what I'm going to do.

Toto didn't have time to ask before Ava walked away from the camera, revealing that she was wearing only black satin lingerie, with no lace or any transparency. Running a hand over his forehead, he couldn't help but feel a familiar shiver run through her body as she climbed into bed, neatly dressed in black sheets. Above her fabric, the silver glow of something slightly curved caused the air to catch in his lungs.

— Ma’am…

— I know you've spent the last few days thinking about what it would be like to be inside me for the first time. I know you thought if it wouldn't be better to just ignore everything and fuck your hand while imagining you're here — she said, opening her legs dramatically. If the panties didn't allow Toto to have any glimpse of Ava, the opening in the middle of it allowed him to see her pussy — Isn't that right, little boy?

— Yes, ma'am — he murmured, mesmerized by the arousal that oozed from her folds and shone in the soft light of the room.

— I thought you might have an aperitif, you know? Since you're so far away from me but you want to touch me so much — Ava said, with a devilish smile on her face as she picked up the silver object next to her. The constant buzzing made Toto conclude that it was a vibrator.

— Ma’am…

— Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have my body to yourself for one night? — the words dripped like honey from her lips as Ava slid the flat tip of the toy down her inner thighs — Being able to touch me without any restrictions or rules? Feel my heat completely surrounding your cock? Hear my moans in your ear, begging you to go faster, harder, to fill my pussy with your cum?

Ava's narration drew those scenes almost automatically in Toto's mind. Her eyes full of desire and her lips parted, as if in a silent request for him to speed up, for him to give her what she wanted. And Toto was willing to give whatever his mistress wanted, even if it cost him his own sanity.

Bringing the vibrator close to her pubis  itself, Ava's eyes closed momentarily, a heavy sigh escaping her lungs, as if the promise of something good was on the horizon. And Toto never wanted so much to be the person who made her feel good.

— Yes, I did — he replied, as the silver tip of the toy drew slow circles on the upper portion of her pussy — I always think about how to please you, ma'am.

— If I told you to satisfy me now, what would you do, little boy? — Ava asked, her eyes squinting at her cell phone as she slid the toy through her own folds.

Toto shifted in his seat, feeling his cheeks getting even hotter. At that point, he didn't need to look down to know that he was hard from that completely explicit image of Ava, coupled with her words and teasing.

— I would start with your breasts, ma'am.

— Do you like my breasts? — she asked, with the shadow of a smile on her face.

— Yes, ma'am. I love them.

— And what would you do with them?

— I would kiss, lick and suck your nipples until they were hard — he replied, as he saw her hand move up her torso towards her bra, squeezing the soft skin. The air was trapped in Toto's lungs, his eyes analyzing that scene that seemed to have come from one of his most erotic dreams.

— And then? — she grumbled softly, moving the toy up and down against her labia minora, as if teasing herself.

— I would slide my mouth along your skin until I reached your pussy. And I would take my time to discover everything you like. I would discover the ideal rhythm, the position of the tongue, whether you like me to use my fingers or not…

— Yes — Ava sighed, her tone almost revealing vulnerability.

Faced with that scene, Toto had the impression that pleasure was the place where she stripped herself of titles and rituals. And seeing her like that, so absorbed in the sensation she was causing in herself with the vibrator, made him place one of his hands over the bulge in his pants, as if that could help alleviate the unbearable lust he was feeling.

That was Ava's effect on him.

— Would you make me come with your tongue, little boy? — she murmured, her eyes meeting his through the screen.

— No, ma'am. You deserve more, much more.

Ava smiled.

— What do I deserve, then? — she asked defiantly, the tip of the vibrator resting firmly against her clit, her eyelids fluttering with the pleasure coursing through her body.

— My cock, ma'am. You deserve to feel him inside you, filling you and making you moan with pleasure. You deserve to enjoy the best I can give you.

A whimper escaped Ava's lips as she slid the vibrator into her own opening, rubbing the chrome tip against herself.

— Would you be gentle, little boy?

— Would you like me to be gentle?

She smiled, inserting the toy inside herself with a moan.

— Fuck — Toto murmured, his hand squeezing his own member under the fabric of his pants, as she arched her back, her eyes closed tightly.

— This… Yes, fuck, yes — Ava whimpered, her legs shaking as she sped up the toy's thrusts. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she found Toto's image on her cell phone, witnessing that scene practically frozen, as if any word or movement could ruin what was happening.

And in that split second, she shattered.

He was sure he could have accompanied Ava and cum in his own pants like a teenager from what he had just witnessed. Seeing her writhing with pleasure was something sublime, perhaps more pleasurable than anything she had ever given him behind closed doors.

It was the effect Ava had on him.

She was still catching her breath when Toto finally broke the silence.

— Ma’am?

— Hm?

— Would it be my turn now? — he asked, his voice sounding a little too naive.

Suddenly, Ava sat up in bed, one eyebrow raised.

— What made you think you would have your turn?

Toto blinked.

— Ah, well, I just made you cum…

Ava let out a giggle.

— Little boy, you're so innocent — she said, in a condescending tone — First of all, you saw me cum, you didn't make me cum. They are two different things.

— But I guided — Toto tried to argue.

— You watched, little boy — Ava interrupted him abruptly — And that's different from guiding, something you wouldn't do since I'm the dominant one here. Secondly, I think your insolence is reason enough for me to deny your request.

— Ma’am, I just…

— You questioned my intentions and wanted to take a place that doesn't belong to you.

— Please, ma'am...

— Have a good day, Toto — she said, before ending the call.

Staring at the screen in shock, he couldn't believe what had just happened. The best minutes of his life had turned into the worst in a matter of seconds, and the blame was solely on his anxiety to please Ava.

— Holy shit, Torger — he muttered to himself, running a hand over his face.

Suddenly, a knock on the door made Toto adjust himself in his chair, inviting whoever was outside to enter. A few seconds later, Bradley's face appeared through the crack.

— Ah, you're there, Toto — he said — I thought you hadn't arrived.

— I just got here, Brad — he answered, still feeling his cock painfully hard inside his trousers — Any problem?

— No, no, I was just in a room next door and I heard a strange noise.

Toto felt his hands get cold.

— Strange noise?

— Yeah, like a whining or something. I thought it might be someone with a problem, but I didn't find anyone...

— There must be a television on in one of the briefing rooms, no?

— I think it's difficult — Bradley replied with a small smile.

— Why?

— I don't know if any of the televisions here have access to porn.

Toto blinked, his stomach dropping.

— Well, check it anyway. We never know if we are going to be victims of a virtual attack or something like that — he managed to say, trying to hide his own discomfort.

With a nod, Bradley closed the door.

And Toto was sure that he had barely escaped.

#toto wolff #wlffog #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #toto wolff x oc #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #f1 x oc #liowlff #formula one fic #toto wolff fanfic #formula one fanfic #toto wolff smut

[preet-01]

For Valentine’s Day, here is a quick ficlet I had written a couple of days after the Lewis to Ferrari news.

Sebastian Vettel/Lewis Hamilton

His Thursday begins as it usually does these days, now that he doesn’t have to prepare for media day or other sponsor obligations before a race weekend – a late start.

A warm cup of tea as he sits outside, watching over his animals and garden. There’s a few pieces of toast with samplings of butter and jam on the side. It’s peaceful, more peaceful than he’s known since before he started karting.

Though it doesn’t last very long.

His peaceful Thursday is disturbed with his phone buzzing. He really should turn that thing off, go completely off the grid and ignore the world. But that’s a thought for another time, right now, Sebastian is still beholden to the social aspect of having a cell phone.

There’s a few messages already waiting for him with more pouring in and a missed call from Jenson. One thing stands out, a message from Jenson saying: Lewis to Ferrari?????

If he spits out his tea in shock at the message, then that’s no one’s business but his.

He had heard rumblings of Lewis going to Ferrari during the previous year, and had even talked to Lewis about it during his brief visit to Monaco. Lewis hadn’t made any indication of seriously considering it, so loyal to Mercedes and getting back to the top step with the team he’d given his blood, sweat, and tears to; with the engine supplier that had been the backbone of his entire career since he was just 13 years old.

But that had been before Singapore, before Qatar, before COTA, before Brazil. It had been before Lewis had been left alone on the podium with only Ferrari and McLaren to congratulate him. It had been before crashing with George and taking the blame for the crash despite being put on soft tyres while George was on medium tyres – the strategy should have been obvious. It had been before he’d gotten disqualified due to the plank and losing a podium position that could have been essential in him getting P2 in the WDC. It had been before the hellish race he had in Brazil, a place that he loved more than anything and considered a second home.

After all of that, maybe Sebastian does understand why Lewis would go to Ferrari. Why he would take a risk somewhere else. Sebastian had been in a similar place so many years ago when Ferrari came knocking on the door. As much as he loved Red Bull, Christian, and Daniel, Sebastian had seen the tides shifting. How he’d gone a year without a win and Daniel had come in to win three times. How Ferrari had offered him everything he could have wanted.

Instead of calling back Jenson, he goes directly to the source.

“Hi,” the familiar British voice rings out from his phone.

“Hi,” Sebastian repeats, not knowing how to start the conversation. They hadn’t had such a conversation when Sebastian had signed with Ferrari – that day had been spent with Lewis’ doing his best to have Seb turn as scarlet as the race suit he would wear. And the conversation in 2020 when it was announced that he would be going to Aston Martin had been short due to Sebastian not wanting to talk too much about how he felt about it. Instead that night had been spent with drinks and Lewis’ bare body pressed up against his own.

“So you heard?”

“Is it true? Are you…” Seb trails off.

“Fred and John are a very convincing duo,” Lewis jokes with a slight laugh. “Would you have done it?” He asks after a few moments of silence.

“I did do it,” Sebastian replies. He too had once left a team built around him, where he won his championships, to go to Ferrari where another driver was already established. “I think that you’ll do better than I did,” he adds.

“Could you open the door?” Lewis questions and right on cue the doorbell rings.

“Are you?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to get up and walk into his house so he can open the door.

Standing on his doorstep with a phone held up to his ear is one Lewis Hamilton. The most sought after man is standing there with nothing more than his phone.

“What? How?” Sebastian questions letting his hand with the phone drop to his side.

“I was driving back from paintballing and next thing I knew I was on a plane to Switzerland,” Lewis replies.

“Paintballing?”

“I took my side of the garage paintballing so I could tell them,” Lewis answers as if it is the most normal way to tell someone such big news. Sebastian can’t help himself but laugh at the absurdity of Lewis taking his team paintballing just to tell them that he’s leaving at the end of the year. “What? It was better than my original idea of taking them skydiving,” Lewis pouts before he too bursts out laughing.

As the world of F1 (and Motorsport to a degree) falls into shambles around them, the two are just laughing at the absurdity of it all.

It’s… nice.

#sewis #Sebastian/lewis #lewis hamilton #sebastian vettel #f1

[croskeys]

Devotional for 4/27

Scripture: "Then what becomes of boasting? It is excluded. Through what kind of law? That of works? No, rather through the law of faith." - Romans 3:27

With last year being the 45th anniversary of the first “Star Wars” movie’s release, I was reminded of being in line as a kid for the second movie, “The Empire Strikes Back.” As we waited, the group that was leaving the previous show spilled out onto the sidewalk with one of them loudly boasting: "I know what happens y'all! Darth Vader is Luke's father!"

That revelation came as a thunderclap to me. Surely, this guy was just messing with us, right? He had to be lying! Two hours later, we found out that he had indeed told us the truth, and the course of the “Star Wars” saga was altered forever.

Reflecting back, that guy just couldn't help but gloat that he had the inside track, the true knowledge of the secrets of “Star Wars,” and he wanted to lord it over us. He certainly did have his moment of glory, I suppose. He knew that hidden truth, and for a few minutes, he wanted us to know that he was in a superior position to the rest of us.

However, maybe he should have realized that boasting is a manifestation of pride (one of the infamous "seven deadly sins") and it fuels the poisonous idea that we are better than others or better than even our Creator. The Apostle Paul certainly realized that and touches on it in our verse today, Romans 3:27.

Charles Talbert says in his commentary on Romans: "The form of the passage is that of the diatribe, a series of questions and answers. Paul’s imaginary opponent asked: ‘Then what becomes of our boasting?’ That is, if justification is by God’s grace and apart from law, can we boast about anything? Paul replied: ‘It is excluded.’ The dialogue partner again asked: ‘By what law (= principle)? By that of works?’ To which Paul replied: ‘No, but by the law (= principle) of faith.’” *

Paul's opponent is trying to stake out some kind of argument for an inside track (and reason to boast) with justification, an act that can be pictured as God reaching down to us through Christ and rendering us righteous through the work of Christ. Paul reminds him that it comes to us through God the Son by the gift of faith.

And faith is indeed a gift… not something that we earn! In his People's New Testament Commentary, the pastor and theologian Fred Craddock reminds us as he looks at the verse, "The affirmation of God’s grace means that even faith cannot be seen as a human attainment that allows believing insiders to ‘boast’ that they are believing insiders. As the Old Testament as a whole is now seen in the light of God’s act in Christ, the Law has become for Christians the law of faith." **

So ancient Israel, nor anyone else, can brag of any special righteousness because of the laws they follow. We are righteous because of "sola fide,” or faith alone in Jesus Christ. In gratitude for that faith that has been instilled in us by God, we should spend our energy helping in the building of the Kingdom with love, kindness, selfless giving, and forgiveness, things that are the very opposite of letting ourselves be controlled by meaningless and hurtful pride.

Prayer: God, help us watch our attitudes and think about our words so that they reflect gratitude for the gift of faith that you freely give us. Help us live our lives guided by you, your Words, and "sola fide" in Christ. Amen.

Submitted by Rev. Croskeys Royall

*Talbert, Charles, Romans: Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary, 2002. **Boring, M. Eugene and Fred Craddock, People's New Testament Commentary, 2010.  

[cornpeace35]

Some Ideas on Ripple slams SEC bid to shield experts in high You Need To Know

The lawful disagreement between the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission and Ripple Labs Inc., an innovator in blockchain modern technology located in San Francisco, proceeds to observe brand-new twists and turns. On July 29, Ripple Labs given out Ripple's 2nd permit to market funds in the U.S. at the $20 million smudge. The firm's brand-new promotion, in collaboration with Ripple, permits users to transmit their cryptocurrency on a network hosted on blockchain technology and utilize it to work out in genuine time. Just last week, Ripple’s attorney John E. Deaton submitted a request to turn down the regulatory authority’s attempts to close the business’s reply to the Amici Curiae. The application was gotten by CIMA as properly as others in the United States. The firm is finding an ruling stopping Ripple’s execution of its plan on negotiation settlement methods in lieu of total lawful choice. In its placement, the firm claimed that the SEC’s standpoint is opposite to the community’s “ideal to access sizable legal debates in a case of extensive public rate of interest.” This opportunity, the focus is the SEC’s plan to file an omnibus activity to leave out or restrict the testimony of up to 10 analysts maintained through Ripple and/or its accuseds, current CEO Brad Garlinghouse and co-founder Christian Larsen. Proposed Reading | Avatar-Doctor Confidentiality: The 1st Metaverse Hospital Is Set To Climb In The UAE Proposed Reading | Avatar-Doctor Confidentiality: The 1st Metaverse Hospital Is Set To Rise In The UAE Image: Ripple Coin News SEC Technique: Exert Pressure On Ripple Lawyers Experts battle that the plaintiff is bent on filing this motion in order to apply tension on the company’s self defense staff and omit the first and/or counter files on numerous expert-witnessed topics. Multiple asks for are had within an omnibus motion. The activity additionally mandates that all federal firms should have acceptable gain access to to info pertaining to prospective fraud and wrongdoing by any sort of gathering. In various other words, the motion states that the House of Representatives has no energy to enact legislations. It additionally calls for all federal government companies to get information regarding and make known financial transactions, and indicates how their observance actions may be carried out. Legal activities allow the celebrations to methodically offer or increase extra case-related worries. Once filed, an experienced witness must be available to discuss the issues directly along with the court and request a test or various other initial hearing day or various other settlement. In addition, the witness need to attend a written testimony analysis for this training class in order to be capable to offer and suggest for the very most stringent defense. After the examination, the specialist will be advised, and attorneys are going to possess the right to take out the affirmation. According to the SEC, the accuseds have conceded to the omnibus, which will not go beyond 120 pages, on the regulation that the exact same duration limit be administered to their oppositional response. The plaintiffs, for the very first opportunity, have taken total task for their corresponding actions and will seek to continue their actions under this subsection. This policy was obtained and signed by Judge Joseph F. Mollick III, Jr. of the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit. The SEC likewise had no objections. The three attorneys basic were assumed to meet Monday to look at additional proposals. It took some 13 hours for the attorneys basic to file the documents and go home, so it continues to be vague where the issue is located. But at that point the SEC dropped its argument in overdue August and made progress on making a policies publication. The SEC has had a hard opportunity complying with lawful debates carried through other conditions, featuring Massachusetts and New York.

Attorney Fred Rispoli reviews the significance of this by stating: “Ripple will definitely likewise move against the SEC’s specialists. Rispoli would sustain that, but would not have a possibility to suggest that the SEC has actually an administration function. How does this worry you? Are More In-Depth surprised at all because the SEC and DOJ are definitely entailed in the legal method? Or do you believe that that implies it is extra vital to acquire the SEC involved right now? Now you know why Ripple recently hired two additional legal representatives.” The case is an escalation of an already bitter court of law dispute that has consistently hogged the headings. The former attorneys took a lawful problem to Ripple's brand-new resolution, affirming that Ripple ought to have known what repayment includes it was appearing to consist of on its Ripple wallet. The brand-new legal representatives sought to prepared a counterarguments position that is as helpful not simply at blocking those features but additionally at helping make them less appealing. The target date for a policy on the activity is specified on July 12. The authorities has concurred it would take up the request after creating clear its purposes to utilize the right to an allure. It is also the second time in a week the Supreme Court has given it the energy to listen to a situation on the eve of the Supreme Court's ruling. XRP overall market cap at $16.5 billion on the daily graph | Source: TradingView.com What The Result Of The Instance Are going to Be: Crypto Awaits The future of cryptocurrencies hinges on a specific situation delivered by the SEC against the fintech firm Ripple, whose $15 billion XRP money ranks seventh in terms of market worth. Ripple, having said that, isn't merely an substitution. The judicial proceeding, which was filed on December 22, 2020, claims that Ripple illegally safeguarded even more than $1.3 billion. Ripple has rejected all the allegations versus it. Ripple sued San Diego County final autumn over alleged inappropriate money washing. San Diego County is enticing the ruling. This account fixes incorrect label for financial institution and business in declaration to The Associated Press. Correction: An earlier variation of this tale improperly listed a previous employer as Ripple.

#ripple sec #Ripple #XRP #xrp news

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 8)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

Swinging my bag over my shoulder and tucking it under my armpit, pick up the large box containing my brand new set of portfolios I just picked up from the printing store. The box obstructing my vision, I trust my instincts to guide me to the office. I close my trunk with one free hand and walk a few steps, peeking to the side of the box to watch for the steps before the double doors.

I give one of the doors a great push with my feet, but it comes back too fast and slams right into me as I try to walk in. Squealing, I lose my balance and send the box flying, falling onto my butt spectacularly.

“Damn it.” I mutter to myself, looking at the dozen of my portfolios scattered next to the tipped box. I reach for one but almost grab two leather shoes.

“I can’t believe how clumsy you are.” Mr.Jeon crouches down before my eyes, all grey suit and sickening looks. I nearly jump.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my face a mix of horror and surprise.

“I came to pay my consultation fees.” He explains, pricking up each of my photo books and stacking them. I give myself a mental slap and help him clean my mess.

“You forgot to charge me.” He adds. Yeah, that was a detail I wish no one would have noticed.

“Did I?” I feign surprise, and he answers with a soft chuckle. ’S’all good now.” He says reassuringly, getting back up with a cheetah’s ease. He stretches a hand down to me.

“I always pay my debts.” He declares.  I take his hands and try to ignore how it feels around mine and he helps me up, before handing me my box.

“Do you think you’ll be okay with this?” He asks once I can’t see him anymore, and I hear him press the button for the elevator.

“Yes, thank you.” I murmur, so glad that my crimson face is hidden from his view by the cardboard box.

“Have a good day.” I hear him say to me as I step in. Please go away. I punch the third floor button.

“You too.” I choke out as the doors close. I sigh deeply. Please let this be the last of last times I see this man.

“Hi everyone.” I call once I enter the office.

“Morning. You just missed Mr. HotButtocks.”  Jade teases, eyebrows wriggling. Oh, please.

“Who she forgot to charge for the consultations.” Fred chimes in before I can answer, appearing behind Ava with a bunch of folders in his hands. Oh, crap.

“Well, it wasn’t-“

“Save it. He tipped. A lot.” He cuts me off. I almost sigh in relief. “What’s all this?” He asks me.

“Port folios.” I reply, starting to walk to my office again. This is getting heavy.

“Need help?” I hear Ava call after me. I look at her over my shoulder.

“I got it! It’s pancakes that I need Ava!” I retort. When I turn my head back and make a turn down the hallway, I bump into a firm chest,  sending my package flying once more. The content pilled on the floor, I look up to the man in front of me.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The tall, platinum blonde asian guy says, crouching down to clean the mess. 

“It’s okay.” I reply, more intrigued by the reason of his presence than anything.  I join him on the floor, quickly throwing my portfolios back into the box.

“Kim Namjoon.” He pauses to streatch his hand out.  “I’m the new architect.”

The new architect?

“I’m Maya Fair. Nice to meet you.” I reply, shaking his hand. 

“I had no idea Fred had hired someone.” I tell hm, unable to hide my surprise.

“He thinks it could be plus for the company to have both designers and architects.” My new colleague says to me. It’s not a stupid idea.

“He also told me you would be my partner.” He adds, lifting himself off the floor with the bax in his arms.

“Partner?” I repeat, rising to my feet.

“We have our first client who asked for both a designer and an architect.” He says as I open the door to my office. We’re already starting?!

“It’s 10 ten in the morning.” I gape at him. I’m sure Fred hasn’t communicated on it yet, how would anybody now we have an architect?

“It’s good friend of mine.” He clears up as we both step into my office. Oooh.

“Oh, Maya.” Fred calls from outside the door.

“I see you’ve met Namjoon.” He smiles at the newest employee.

“Yes, he just told me about the two-in-one.” I tell him.

“Then, you’re fine. I gotta go. Bye!” He sings, nearly pirouetting his way out of my office. Namjoon and I both chuckle at him.

“Where should I put this?” He asks, my package still in his hands,

“I could take advantage of your height and have you put it up here.” I propose, pointing at my unused top shelf reserved for my drawing equipment.

“No problem.” Namjoon replies, placing the box on the shelf with ease and grace I could never have.

I thank him warmly and ask him about our appointment today.

“It’s at 2pm, downtown near the design museum. Should we take my car?” He proposes. I don’t mind not driving for once. This two-in-one package has its perks.

“Sure.” I reply.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. See you.” He greets before leaving my office. Taking a cleansing breath, I slide behind my desk, ready to get to work.

“Cute, right?”

I look up and see Ava standing in my doorway, hip jutted ou and a plate of pancakes in her hand. I chuckle rolling my eyes.

“What about Eli?” I shoot back.

“No one’s above Elijah. But he is cute, right?” She replis, walking over to my desk. Ava is addicted to men, it’s crazy. I grab a pancake and shove it down my throat.

“M’yeah.” I mumble. He is cute, but the. real snack is that pancake for me.

“He’s from Seoul, graduated from Barlett, and worked with people like Emma Thomson and the Beckham’s.” She gives me his whole resume without me asking, raising her eyebrows in excitement. So he’s high class, huh?

“Aren’t we a little small for him?” I raise a brow, and Ava replies with a clueless shrug.

“You know, Maya.” She trails off. “I had no idea Jeon was putting you through all this.”

“It’s fine, Ava. Really.” I reply dismissively, reaching out for a second pancake. 

“It’s all behind me now.” I reassure her.

“I can’t wait to get back to work actually.” I say excitedly.

“Well, I’ll let you do just that.” She declares, turning on her heels.

“Thanks for the pancakes!” I say to her back before she exits the room.

-

“Miss Fair?”

I lift my head from my scribbles and see Mr.Namjoon standing in the doorway of my office.

“It’s Maya. We’re colleagues.” I give him a warm smile that he returns immediately.

“Okay well, you can call me Joon if you want. ” He says to me.

“Joon. Is it time?” I ask him.

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’ll be outside.” He says before closing the door and ambling off. I quickly gather my belongings, my portfolio, my tablet and my note bad, before joining Namjoon at the elevator.

“Who are we meeting?” I ask him.

“Choi Minah. A friend from Seoul.” He explains. I’m meeting a lot of Korean people these days. From Mr.Jeon to him to Mrs.Choi.

“Oh.”

“She’s a designer for Alexander McQueen.” He tells me, though I don’t really know what to do with this information.

“Interesting.” I say to myself. So he’s a high-class architect bringing us his high-class clients. Why did he settle for us? We are way too small of a company.

-

“A round apartment in a square building?” I utter once we're out of the appointment. Miss Choi has been very friendly with us, she's easy going, funny and very elegant as I had imagined, but she's also very edgy.

She likes vintage decors, clothes and even vintage movies. She lives in the wrong century. Her requirements were...disruptive. Not impossible to realize, just very...interesting.

“Rita doesn’t do conventional.” Namjoon explains as we walk back to his car. We both know that's an understatement. She's unique.

“Had the building been round she would’ve wanted a triangle house.” He muses.

“If she’s opting for minimalism I won’t be much help.” I retort. The project sounds amazing, but I don't see how I can ring much to it. Namjoon might as well have gone alone and asked for advice if be needed any.

“Of course you would. You’ve done plenty of such projects.” He counters.

“How do you know?” I ask, squinting my eyes at him. He gives me an embarrassed smile.

“I borrowed one of your portfolios.” He admits. 

“Borrowed?” I repeat. When did he do that.

“It fell out of your box.” He says. I lift an eyebrow. What a sneaky dude.

“I was going to give it back, I promise.” He says reassuringly. Oh, whatever.

"Well we could trade portfolios. I'd like to see your work." I tell him.

"I'll get you- Oh.” Namjoon freezes and stops in his tracks, eyes glued to a sign. Looking in the same direction, I realise we’re in front of the design museum, and he is reading the colourful banner above the entry.

“An RCR exposition?” He says under his breath.

“What’s that?” I enquire, clueless.

“Rafael Aranda, Carme Pigen dnd Ramon Vilalta, three of the best architects in the entire world." He nearly gushes, a smile stretching his face. Well, if you say so…

 “I knew they were in London to work on a house, but I had no idea they would have an exposition here.” He mumbles to himself, frowning deeply. I read the sign.

“It’s the last day.” I remark. “Do you want to have a quick look?” I propose, and he directs his frown to me.

“Shouldn’t we get back to the office?” He says. Well, we can always take the long way home.

“Fred won’t know.” I say reassuringly, I always make pit stops between meetings if I ever have to.

“I don’t know if I should be doing this on my first day.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.  Don’t tell me he’s a bootlicker!

“Oh, come on.” I refrain an eye roll. “We can be out in ten minutes. Plus, it’s your last chance.” I argue, and that seems to do the trick.

“A quick look then.” He says quietly, refraining a smile to hide his excitement. 

Jeez, he must really love these guys. As an interior designer I’ve always been interested in architecture. I have always admired the way our ancestors have pushed the limits of what we could build, of how they could create entire spaces that tell stories. 

Namjoon. and I walk into the museum and amble in the middle f the exhibit. For someone so excited about these architect, my colleague seems to be skimming over each model and picture quite fast, almost as if h was looking for something.

“It’s there.” He nearly gasps, stopping in front of a replica of a cubic, rainbow-gradient coloured building.

“El petit Combe.” He says. I take a closer loo at the colourful yet minimalistic square.

“They made this in collaboration with Lego’s.” He explains to me. Now that I know that, I’m less bothered by all the squareness of the place.

“Playing with Lego’s is actually what made me want to be an architect. Before my parents would start buying me equipment to draw plans, I would use Lego’s to build models.” He explains to me. What a lovely story. And what a ingenious kid he must have been! I remember doing the exact same thing with Lego’s whenever I wanted to change the layout of my bedroom, but when I was a teen.

“And this actually is a school in Spain.” He says, pointing at “El Petit Combe”.

“Imagine going to school in a Lego building.” He whispers to himself. His passion for architecture is nearly palpable, the excitement in his eyes visible and almost contagious.

“Are they building a Lego house in London? Is that why they’re here?” I enquire, which makes him chuckle.

“I wish.” He says, walking away from his favorite piece. I follow him to wards the back of the room to see the rest of the exhibit. “I haven’t been up to date with the project, but I think they’re finishing their Mesh Manor.”

“Mesh Manor?”

“Ever heard of the Mesh House in Hampstead?”

I shake my head, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“It looks like this.” He says, showing me a picture. Ah, mesh as in mesh textures in modelling softwares!

“They’re using the same concept but making it their own. On a bigger scale.” He explains. “Speaking of the devil.”

He stops in front of a replica of what would be the manor. My brain can’t really wrap itself around the idea of having such a big building built like this. The scale of this project is huge. But it doesn’t feel at all like a manor, just like a manor-size piece of contemporary art.

“You can hardly call this a manor.” I remark.

“It fits the definition.” He retorts. I mean, yeah, if it comes with enough land.

“I wonder what the inside looks like.” I muse. I am currently imagining luxurious minimalism, which of course would fit but which I am also bored of.

“I’m curious to see what they were trying to express with this.” I tell myself. “I hope it’s not minimalism.”

“Well, you could see for yourself.”

When I snap my head towards Namjoon, he’s reading a leaflet he found next to the description of the replica.

“They’re doing an inauguration party.” He tells me. Oh, do they?! I could go with Sidney. She loves acting fancy.

“Certified designers and architects only.” He mumbles. Oh, that kind of party?! 

“Proof of employment should be sent to this e-mail address for an invitation to be sent to you.” He reads. That is super selective. Well, it’s a high class project carried out by high-class architects. 

“Dress code: suit and tie or cocktail dress.” He finishes. That sounds a lot of fun, but I can’t go with my baker of a roommate.

"Would you like to go with me?” He proposes. 

What? He’s already asking me out on a date. I have nothing against him, but I’ve had enough os testosterone for at least a month. Hell, I’m so fucking blind I hadn’t noticed he was interested in me.

“Not as a date though.” He adds quickly. i blink up at him.

“I’m really not trying to ask you out.” He says. If we weren’t on the same page I’d be offended.

“But if we both enjoy architecture, we can have a good time.” He explains, and I hide my relief. This could be fun. 

“Sure!” I nod vigorously. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

He grins, eyes almost disappearing.

“Perfect.” He pipes up. Looks like I have a not-a-date this weekend. "We should get back to the office now."

#jungkook scenarios #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts jimin #jungkook fanfic #park jimin #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #namjoon #namjoon smut #RM #rm smut #bangtan scnearios #bangtan smut #jimin fanfic #rm fanfic #namjoon fanfic #twh

[randomnumbers751650]

Sometimes people ask a thing like “how did it get so big?” This is almost like any meme in the internet and sometimes even whatever is in the Top 10 bestselling books of any list. Due to being a historian of economic thought, I’m study the ascension of the idea of the entrepreneur as a hero, how it happened and its consequences, both good and bad. Therefore, I couldn’t avoid Ayn Rand and Atlas Shrugged. It wasn’t a good experience and I’ll talk more about it under the cut.

I think we all know how much of a controversial person Ayn Rand was. But it worked. She’s one of the most influential writers of the 20th century whether we like it or not. Like, a lot of people say she hates the poor and minorities. It’s even a meme, like there’s a joke SCP that makes everything it comes into contact unnecessarily verbose and one of the incidents was a sticky note written “I hate poor people” that becomes a copy of Atlas Shrugged.

After reading her work, I can safely say these are traps she set up in her own work. Not only that, these traps hide the true problems of her work.

In first place, we need to consider her demographic target. That wasn’t me, if I wasn’t researching, I wouldn’t even bother reading it. Like, I remember I saw in the internet a game called “The Jihad to Destroy Barney” and someone commenting: “because 20-years old thinking they’re funny were obviously the demographic target of Barney the Dinosaur”. Rand knew what her demographic target was, after working in Hollywood for so many years.

One might think that her demographic target was people like her, but it’s wider than that. Through all her book, producers (she doesn’t use the word ‘entrepreneur’, but it’s obviously the same) are the protagonists. Dagny shows her dedication to her railway, always looking for ways to improve it, to hire the best people to work with her, to deliver the best product she can, always treating others with respect. All the producers are people full of passion for what they do. They do not just for the money, they do it to express themselves (but still want/should be paid).

Meanwhile their enemies are the government organs that want to curb them, by introducing legislation to make everything equal, like people are forbidden to be fired, prices are controlled and so on. And they are evil, they are hypocrites who don’t really believe in the altruistic values they spouse or they are too dumb to realize they’re being hypocrites. They are always men in position of power, evil bureaucrats, quisling industrialists, hypocrite union leaders (though the union leader, Fred Kinnan, interestingly is the most sympathetic of the villains, and actually gets away scot free, to the point some think he’s a Galt agent undercover).

Rand aimed for the real life entrepreneur identify with the “heroes”. All the companies have names of their founders in their titles, Taggart Terminal, d’Anconia Copper, and so on. Their enemies show their true faces by naming themselves with abstract titles, like National Union and so on. She aimed the person who ever had to deal with the Health Department, with the Labor Department, who has to fills forms and more forms and say “Wouldn’t the world be a terrible place if it wasn’t for you? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you didn’t have to do all of this? If you just had the opportunity to truly express yourself? Free from the prying eyes of government inspectors? Rejoice, because I have the answer!”

Rand answers this with the Galt’s Gulch – a utopia of freedom, where the word “give” is taboo, while leaving the outside world of looters and moochers to destroy itself. All the producers are gathered to escape the terrible collectivist world around her. Everyone has money and, since they’re all enlightened by the principles of greed and selfishness, the prices are small, even symbolic. Monopolies are good and rivals are always being taken down, and they rejoice with it, both winner and loser, because they contributed to the expansion of human spirit.

When John Galt says “I swear – by my life and my love of it – that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine”, he’s implying all men who belong to this valley. They are not ashamed of taking low jobs, because they know their true power is what they do with their minds and hands. Francisco is shown to be perfect in everything he does, makes one think he’s a Gary Stu, but it’s because, according to the book’s philosophy, if you’re a true man, anything you do you become the best. For this reason, Galt’s Gulch is quite diverse, because it has not only industrialists, but also factory workers and small businessmen who share their ideals. And not only workers, but also artists, intellectuals and others.

This is why I think the argument “this books hates poor people” might not be accurate. The low worker whom Eddie Willers meets in the beginning is actually John Galt in disguise. This I think it’s the most important part to understand why Atlas Shrugged was so influential with small businessmen when published: John Galt is where the Übermensch and the Everyman meet. “Who is John Galt?” Anyone can be John Galt – the same way anyone can be Bella Swan, anyone can be Ritsuka Fujimaru (at least before the 5th singularity), anyone can be Kirito Kirigaya – the idealized self of the entrepreneur.

Thus, one is not born a “man”, but becomes one. Dagny and Hank’s entire character development is to become “men”, to learn to love themselves more than what they create, no matter how passionate they are. This contrasts with Eddie Willers, Dagny’s right hand man, probably the most tragic character of the tale.

Eddie loved the railway just as Dagny. He’s been her friend for so long, and even developed feelings for her. But the book constantly observes that Eddy doesn’t have the capacity to lead something as important as a railway. But he does it nevertheless, dedicating all his resources and passion for the railway. But, unlike Dagny, he doesn’t learn to look for greater things. Thus, he ends the novel stuck in a railway, defeated and probably left to die.

This is controversial, so much everyone still discusses his fate. In the movie adaptation, they deviate from the novel by having the heroes making a point to rescue him from his fate. In Jennifer Burns’s biography, she mentions a letter Ayn Rand received asking about Eddie and she replies that in a collectivist society, Eddie would’ve perished, while in a free one he’d be living okay. Nevertheless, this reveals a truth about that world: not everyone will become a “man”. Eddie would never become a “man”.

Since pity is against Galt’s doctrine, Eddie cannot be pitied. He has to live under the mercy of his Galtian overlords. He has only two options: either worship the feet that trample him, expecting his breadcrumbs fall from their banquet table, or to question his place in the world, thus denying that A is A, and be trampled harder. It really doesn’t matter his kindness, his dedication, he’s not a “man”, and thus has more in common with the looters and moochers than the heroes. Thus, if Eddie ever becomes an obstacle to the productive forces, even if unintentionally, he has to be trampled.

While one might think that I’m being unfair, it should be reminded that Ayn Rand openly advocated the people who were killing Natives during the American expansion to the West were doing nothing wrong. The Natives were actually privileged for being trampled by the productive forces, thus creating the great nation. The same argument can be made for the colonized people and even to the “essential workers” of this pandemic – since apparently people who take this book seriously are one of the most resistant forces to lockdowns and mask mandates, you can guess why.

And this is why Rand hated the environmental movement, because it puts an obstacle to the productive process. Nature can only react with deaf indifference to Galt’s speech. For Rand, this is unforgivable. Would it be surprising if oil tycoons were fans of Rand’s work?

In the end, the producers execute their revenge against the world that rejected them. Galt’s speech caused a lot of disturbance and the last chapters deal with its consequences, with more villains being evil for no reason and more showing how awesome their heroes are. Galt becomes more and more like Jesus, even with a gnostic Judas in Dagny helping him. In fact, in the funniest part of the book, where it comes THIS close from being self-aware, he says to his tormenters, when they asked to cooperate with him: “It took me three hours on the radio to tell me why”. It gave me angry laughter.

In the end of the day, what matters? This is a work of fiction, where caricatures of men and women fight each other. The entrepreneurial process works nothing like described in the book. It takes a naïve view of selfishness, upon saying that if everyone was selfish the world would be a better place, when in reality, if you expect selfishness, it’s what you’ll get.

It’s never explained how they invented their inventions, only that they did it and it’s awesome. The One-Man Industrial Revolution trope is one that I loathe a lot, because it misrepresents the innovation process. It requires so many factors, including government funding – scratch that, it REQUIRES government funding because technologies like touch-screen used to be so risky that no private company would take seriously and government can fund because it doesn’t go bankrupt the same way. Even if we take it as a metaphor, it doesn’t work when you stop to think.

Rand belongs to the same class of writers as Stephenie Meyer and Christian Weston Chandler. But she wanted to influence the world, she wanted it to be more than entertainement, much more. Thanks to her publishing network and appeal to real problems, she did it. This is why the problems of her work require critique. And I hope anyone reading this try to understand better what “relatability” means, this is what relatability can do. Stop trying to look for relatability everywhere, let it just come naturally and if it doesn’t come enjoy the story!

#politics #i'm not revising this #i hope i don't have to think about this book #for a minimal time #it shows correcting a wrong interpretation about a harmful idea #can explain how worse the actual idea is

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Today’s Pig is Tomorrow’s Bacon

Thursday, June 11, 2020

 By Stephen Jay Morris

©Scientific Morality

       History to some is a boring subject.  The way it was presented to me in grade school was all about memorizing dates and peoples’ names you didn’t really care about.  It was about the mid term, and then the final exam.  Public school curriculum was always a tug of wag between progressive methods and conservative techniques of education.

So, who won the war?  Neither ideology won.  It became a compromise of mediocrity.  Most subjects in school were anemic because of censorship by various groups on the left or right; mostly right wing Christian groups.  That is why science classes were so flimsy.  You couldn’t teach that the world was billions of years old because it contradicted the bible.

History is not boring! You remember your own name and birth date, don’t you?  Well…I am going to lay down some history on you: my own!  My history parallels social history.  Back then I wasn’t just a spectator of history, but a participant.

In the late 60s, what was happening in the black community was a daily ritual of police brutality. If you were black and walking anywhere, you were stopped, frisked, searched, and asked for identification. Were you to show any disrespect to the cops, you would “accidentally” fall down on your face and cause injuries to your body.  It was their word against yours.

Other non-white people suffered the same injustices by the police.  And, so did white hippies!  Long hair meant you were on dope and you were a “nigger-lover.”  I had my share of police harassment.  My long hair covered my face, so my white skin privilege was suspended until I got a haircut.  “Are you a boy or a girl?” a cop would ask.  There was also penis privilege, of which mine was revoked because I had long hair.  There used to be heterosexual privilege; mine was canceled until I got…well, you know. If you had long hair, the cops would call you a cock sucking queer.  All I had to do was get a haircut and all my problems would be over.  However, for those who were Black, it was a constant, day-to-day struggle.

Enter the Black Panther Party.  The Panthers were not some ideological or political group.  In the beginning, they were a militant Civil Rights group, which ultimately became the vanguard of the New Left revolution.  They supported Third World resistance and uprising against Imperialism. They were in support of the Viet Cong and others.  Their focus was on police brutality.  The Panthers went on street patrols, armed with rifles and law books.  When they saw cops harassing someone, they would stand nearby, shouting instructions to the victim on how he should legally respond. They put a halt to police harassment for a couple of years.  It was illegal to call a cop a curse word, so the Panthers would call them “pigs.” That word was and is protected by the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights.  Once, I used that word to some cops.

In 1970, I was on my way home, walking.  I was in the alley that ran adjacent to my house, when some unmarked cop car stopped beside me.  Inside, there were two plain-clothes, white cops in dark sunglasses, with sideburns and mustaches. They looked like characters from the sit-com, “Reno 911.”  They were dressed in casual clothes, like male models out of a department store ad in the Sunday paper.  The driver asked me, “Have you seen a Chicano wearing khaki pants and a yellow shirt, about 6 feet 4, walk by here?”  Now, I was a stupid, 16-year-old militant, so in a reflex action, I replied, “I didn’t see shit, pig!”  Both of them were clearly exasperated, plus they were wielding giant flashlights that cops commonly used as Billy clubs.  They slowly exited their car and approached me.  One of them asked softly, “What did you say?”  I felt a surge of adrenaline invading my belly; I knew that I was going to get the shit beat out of me!  Just then, behind me, I heard my mom open the front door of my house. With great relief, I turned around and said, “Hey, mom!”  She didn’t say a word, but she looked concerned.  The head pig said to my mom, “Ma’am!  Tell your son to watch his mouth!”  They both got in their car and sped off in pursuit of their suspect. What was even scarier was that this incident occurred right next to my house on Martel Avenue!

That’s just one of many encounters I had with the cops.  This next anecdote took place in my high school history classroom.  My history teacher enjoyed holding class discussions of current events.  One day, were talking about police brutality and how to stop it.  Now, this was 1969 and the network news nightly showed film clips of cops bashing and whacking the hell out of student demonstrators with their batons.  By this time, I was in solidarity with the Black Panther Party, who’d proposed having community control of the police department.  I said to classroom, “We should abolish the police department!”  One girl’s eyes popped out her head and she shrieked, “Are you out of your mind?!  Who is going to protect the public from crime?”  To this, I replied, “The community peace patrol, I imagine!” Then she had the nerve to recite this bumper sticker text, “Well...if you don’t like the police, next time you are trouble, call a hippie!”  It turned out that her dad was a cop.  The bell rang and my teacher said, “What Stephen said is a valid point.  Good day.”  Wow!  No teacher had ever validated anything I said!

So here we are.  It seems a million years since the Chicago cops assassinated Black Panther Fred Hampton, and it’s been just 15 days since a cop murdered George Floyd.  His murder started a wild fire of protests and riots around the world.  There are calls now from the Black Lives Matter movement to defund the police.  I also heard some anarchists calling for the abolition of the police department.  Bam!   Some ideas never die.

So, what do I believe now? Since the police are part of the working class, they should be revolutionized toward progressive values. They should take off the uniform and not carry guns.  They should be trained in the martial arts.  They should be peace officers not police officers.  Progressive unions should represent them.  I say abolish the police department and transform it into a community peace force.

The white-wingers (formerly, right-wingers) claim they are pro-police.  They are not.  They only support the cops when they violently abuse some poor victim.   Now, should the cops go on strike for higher wages, you will not see one conservative on the picket line with them. Conservatives are not willing to pay higher taxes to support their local police.  Hell, no!  They’d rather privatize the police force and have them guard and protect the white rich and their acres upon acres of property.  Here’s one argument worth contemplating:  Abolish the police so they can never be privatized!

Okay, Boomer?  

 Take a listen to this song I wrote in 1980 about the Los Angeles Police Department:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpIzWoS0Vto

#george floyd #blacklivesmatter #60s #poets of tumblr #stephenjaymorris #defund the police

[thefamilyineverknew]

Turning 47: pt. XV

“Ch-ch-ch-changes”

26 May 2018

“You know, in Sweden they make these perfectly shaped butter knives. They’re just ideal for spreading butter on pancakes,” I say as I wolf down a hot stack. It’s a bright Sunday morning in Evergreen, Colorado at Benny & Kathleen’s. Thankfully, they were home last night and were willing to put me up for the night (kicking their middle child out of his room for me...extra thanks to him). I woke to a family of deer peering in my window from the surrounding forest and the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen upstairs. How did I deserve all of this? Again, I am overcome by the generosity and warm hospitality of people who I haven’t seen in forever.

“So, how did the meeting at Barnes & Noble go?,” they ask with baited breath. “Well, wow...,” I reply, and proceed to reiterate the details of the story that I have laid down in the previous parts of this tale, showing them the photo of Arla and me in the park. “Oh wow! It’s really undeniable,” they marvel. I am here and present, but also in a bit of a daze. That just happened, and here I am in the home of old college friends on a Sunday morning, eating breakfast before they go off to church. Time is playing ALL KINDS of tricks. Now is then is now is then. Waxing and waning. Kathleen is buzzing around the kitchen, whipping up pancakes in her Sunday best, while Benny and I commisurate over coffee. It’s as if I walked through a wormhole from 1993 to 2018. I feel the same way in their presence as I did when I was 22.

“So, are you going to the reunion?,” Kathleen asks, effervescently as she does. ”I think I have to, seeing as I was professoring there this last term. If I can cobble the funds together; definitely,” I say, and we commence to listing all of our old classmates who we should pester to be there. “Do you think Dan Rauter would come?,” zips Kathleen. ”I’m not sure. I’d love to see him. Just the whole gang. That was one of the best things about being back at Wheaton, being able to see so many people who I hadn’t in so long. It was crazy. Yes, I really need to be there,” I say. Declarations are made, and names dropped. It’s so good. So bizarre. It was crazy to see so many people over the Spring term, slipping in from a faded memory to LIVE, flesh and blood reality, just like sitting here at Kathleen & Benny’s dinner table.

The house is bustling with activity as Kathleen and the kids are bolting out the door to make it to the Episcopal church. Benny and I are engrossed in a light theological conversation, and he asks Kathy to save him a seat as he will catch up soon. Benny has already been to one early morning service this morning, a Catholic mass, and he is explaining to me his slow conversion to Catholicism.

Unbeknownst to me, Benny had grown up in the Evangelical Free Church (a merger of the Norwegian and Swedish Free Churches in America from 1950), just as I had. It turns out we were both at the same Youth National Conference in Denver in 1988. “Did you know Big John?,” he asks. “Wow....there’s someone who I haven’t thought of in decades. Yeah, I even drew a cartoon picture of him,” I confirmed. Neither of us knew much of who Big John was or where he came from, but he was definitely memorable; a man in his 50’s or 60’s, who must have been on the spectrum. Who or which group was he connected with? If it raised any eyebrows at the time, I didn’t hear of it, nor did I hear anything ever happening. Today, I don’t think his presence would be acceptable, just cause, well, you know. But again, it didn’t cross my mind then and there was nothing untoward that happened to my knowledge.

Going to the National Conference was the hilt of summers for me back in high school; 2500 teenagers converging in one place for a week. Half of those were girls, and my hormones were racing around like atoms in the particle accelarator at FermiLab. It was a perfect stage on which to try out all my extroverted show off tricks; breakdancing, skateboarding, or just being able to make people laugh. It was heaven, and the fact that all of these kids were coming from a similar place in the church community meant that I didn’t have to feel awkward or edgy about being a pastor’s kid. And I remember, there was this one person at this very National Conference in Denver who left a massive and lasting impact on me, one which solidified the course I’ve been on to this day. His name was Fred.

Fred was a part of the youth group that came down from Rochester, Minnesota, and, in my opinion, that group was THE coolest bunch of kids I’d ever met in person. They were punk and New Wave, and while I had dabbled in the style a bit, this was the first time I had ever been around people actually like that. I mean, I had seen that style in John Hughes films and on MTV, but never in real life. Where we came from on the Eastside of Des Moines, it was all Classic Rock (when it was just known as Rock); feathered hair, Van Halen, combs in back pockets, and muscle cars. These kids from Rochester were all laid back skaters. There were so many firsts I witnessed coming from that group. I just wanted to hang with them. And in right there in the middle of all of them was this guy Fred.

The thing about Fred that blew me away was that he was plain, and at least physically, NOT cool, but every one of the other cooler-than-Alaska kids deferred to him with respect. Fred was fairly overweight, which where I came from was an instant social death sentence, but if it was something that he ever felt insecure about, it didn’t show. No, he was solid, sitting in their midst like a Buddha, normal as could be; the sun in a solar system set-up. And I thought....if this guy, who by all appearances should be a cast aside (in my limited, teenaged prejudiced opinion), is able to just be, cool with himself as he is and command the respect he does...then...why should I ever give a second thought to what other people think about me? And that set a tone for me, going forward. My early leanings toward non-conformity were absolutely crystalized meeting Fred. I think I may have written him once after that conference, but there was never a correspondence kept up. I don’t even remember his last name, but I do remember the impact he had on me. Thank you, Fred.

So, Benny comes out of the same soil that I did, which is just wild to me. Wilder still, is that his train has switched tracks toward Catholicism. As he explains it to me, it all comes down to doctrine. The Catholic church is less emphasis on one’s individual personal responsibility in attaining and keeping up one’s salvation. It’s already a done deal. Its all in the doctrine and the sacraments , allowing him to just go and worship, without having to strain and stretch to try to receive God’s favor. It’s already been done, he just needs to be present. Kinda like Fred, just being there, content in this space. He makes an appealing argument, and I am very far from being dogmatic about the different flavors of Christendom. “Do you think it’s the Protestant appointment to continually fracture into smaller and smaller shards of belief until it stops meaning anything?;” I ask. How many denominations can there be, each one believing their way and vision is the RIGHT way? Benny says this is part of why he started investigating Catholicism.

I remember back when I was in undergrad at Wheaton, one of the best parts was trying out these different flavors of Christian worship. There was the hippie church, Jesus People (JPUSA), in Chicago. Then there was the generic, big box non-denominational variety, like Wheaton Bible or College Church. And the Presbyterian churches. And the Episcopal churches, like Church of the Resurrection and St. Mark’s (where I had my first communion with REAL wine, not Welch’s Grape Juice). It was a blizzard of experimentation, investigation, and research into the style, views, and formats. Now, at Wheaton, being a college firmly rooted in evangelicalism, going to church was basically expected, which meant that Sunday lunch in the cafeteria was a natural place for assessments on whether or not others had gone to church, based on the clothing people wore. I am more than certain that several stressed out about this to the point where they would dress up for lunch if they hadn’t made it to church. I couldn’t be bothered with that. If there were ever a snide comment like, “Where’d you go to church, Kurt?”, I’d just say I had spent some time in The Word. Not only did it cut the snark, it was 100% true. I called my bed “The Word”, with a big sign on it stating its name. This became a problem for at least one of the underclassmen on my floor when I was an RA, borderline heretical. I do remember, Brendan. 😉

It is easy for me to listen to Benny describe his journey and thinking. We come out of the same place, and I can understand transformation and maturation far more than I can stagnation and samey-sameness. I live in Sweden now, have been for 16 years. True belief in Jesus, or any deity, is highly out of place and foreign; viewed with eye-narrowing suspicion. While Christianity is solidly a part of Sweden’s history and heritage, it has also always been lock and step with the government. For hundreds of years, it was mandatory for the people of Sweden to attend church. The church was in charge of keeping people in line, as well as for the country’s census and population control. It was not optional. Therefore, church in Sweden is not viewed as a place to receive any kind of true belief, but an institutional organism where tradition is upheld; in infant baptism, weddings, and funerals. This underlines my conviction that church and state should always remain separate. Belief should always be a choice, not compusory.

So, I don’t blame Swedes for being narrow-eyed, at all (I half-expect my Swedish friends to be reading this side-eyed, all this church talk, but I’m cool with that. This is my story, this is my song). Moving here was a cultural womp on a multitude of levels, including spiritually. I share this with the Hindus, Jains, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews and anyone else I’ve encountered who has moved here with a spiritual belief system from outside. It is a spiritual desert, with a fixation on the sensory and material here-and-now. Belief is dead wood, relegated to tradition or the sole domain of the sciences. But it is good to know, life still does thrive in the desert (if you’ve ever watched David Attenborough), it just looks and behaves differently than, say, a jungle or forest. I have adapted and I feel good about where I am, and I feel good about the people around me. I reject “us vs. them”. It’s just us. If I am viewed as a “them”, whether it’s true or not, so be it.

Benny and I wrap up. I go downstairs to pack, and do a couple “idiot checks” to make sure I am not leaving anything behind. And then we’re out the door, headed to our cars. “Benny! It’s so great to see you. Send me your address. I will send you some Swedish butter knives. You’ll see,” I bark in parting. And we head out, up the drive and onto the winding roads of Evergreen; Benny to join his family at the Episcopal church, and I, through the soaring cathedral of the Rockies and up to Boulder to see if I can meet up with Jolly Northrup.

I text Jolly... “Jolly!”

[a-year-of-musicals]

Day 98/365 - Monty Python’s Spamalot

By John Du Prez and Eric Idle

A historian narrates a brief overview of medieval England. In a miscommunication between the actors and the narrator, the actors sing an introductory song about Finland (Fisch Schlapping Song). The Historian returns, irritated, and tells the frolicking Finns that he was talking about England, not Finland. The scene immediately changes to a dreary, dark village with penitent monks in hooded robes chanting Latin and hitting themselves with books. King Arthur travels the land with his servant Patsy, who follows him around banging two coconut shells together to make the sound of a horse's hooves as Arthur "rides" before him, trying to recruit Knights of the Round Table to join him in Canelot. He encounters a pair of sentries who are more interested in debating whether two swallows could successfully carry a coconut than in listening to the king.

Sir Robin, a collector of plague victims, and Lancelot, a large, handsome and incredibly violent man, meet as Lancelot attempts to dispose of the sickly Not Dead Fred. Although a plague victim, the man insists that he is not dead yet and he can dance and sing. He completes a dance number, but is soon hit over the head with a shovel and killed by an impatient Lancelot. (He Is Not Dead Yet). They agree to become Knights of the Round Table together, Lancelot for the fighting, and Robin for the singing and the dancing.

Arthur attempts to convince a peasant named Dennis Galahad that he, Arthur, is king of England because the Lady of the Lake gave him Excalibur, the sword given only to the man fit to rule England. However, Dennis and his mother, Mrs Galahad, are political radicals and deny that any king who has not been elected by the people has any legitimate right to rule over them. To settle the issue, Arthur has the Lady Of The Lake and her Laker Girls appear to turn Dennis into a knight (Come With Me). Cheered on by the girls (Laker Girls Cheer), the Lady Of The Lake turns Dennis into Sir Galahad and together, they sing a generic Broadway love song (The Song That Goes Like This), complete with chandelier. They are joined by Sir Robin and Sir Lancelot, and together with Sir Belvedere and "the aptly named" Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Show - a knight resembling Don Quixote - who promptly apologises and leaves, they make up the Knights of the Round Table (All For One).

The five knights gather in Camelot, a deliberately anachronistic place resembling Las Vegas’s Camelot-inspired Excalibur resort, complete with showgirls, oversized dice and the Lady of the Lake headlining the Castle in full Cher get-up (Knights Of The Round Table/The Song That Goes Like This Reprise). In the midst of their revelry, they are contacted by God who tells them to locate the Holy Grail. Urged on by the Lady Of The Lake (Find Your Grail), the Knights set off. They travel throughout the land until they reach a castle, only to be viciously taunted by lewd French soldiers. They attempt to retaliate by sending them a large wooden rabbit in the style of the Trojan Horse; however, they realise after the fact that it was not as simple as leaving the rabbit and walking away – they should have hidden inside it. Defeated, they leave in a hurry when the French begin taunting them again, sending cancan dancers after them and throwing barnyard animals including cows at them (Run Away!). Arthur and his followers manage to run into the safety of the wings before the French catapult the Trojan Rabbit at them.

Sir Robin and his minstrels follow King Arthur and Patsy into a "dark and very expensive forest" - Arthur later says they're in a "Dark and extremely expensive forest - where they are separated. King Arthur meets the terrifying but silly Knights who say Ni, who demand a shrubbery. King Arthur despairs of finding one, but Patsy cheers him up (Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life) and they find a shrubbery shortly after.

Sir Robin, after wandering the forest for some time with his minstrels (Brave Sir Robin), encounters The Black Knight, who scares him off, but King Arthur, who happens on the scene, more or less defeats him by cutting off both his arms and legs, impaling his still-alive torso on a door, and leaving to give the Knights their shrubbery. The Knights accept it, but next demand that King Arthur put on a musical and bring it to Broadway implying that it need only be Broadway-style, "but not an Andrew Lloyd Webber". The mere mention of his name causes everyone to cover their ears and scream in pain. Sir Robin, who has found Arthur by this point, insists that it would be impossible for them to accomplish this next task, since you need Jews for a successful Broadway West End musical (You Won't Succeed On Broadway), and proves his point in a wild production number filled with Fiddle On The Roof parodies, including a bottle dance with Grails instead of bottles. King Arthur and Patsy promptly set off in search of Jews.

While the Lady Of The Lake laments her lack of stage time (Whatever Happened To My Part?), Sir Lancelot receives a letter from what he assumes is a young damsel in distress. He is very surprised to find that the "damsel" is actually an effeminate young man named Prince Herbert (Where Are You?/Here Are You) whose overbearing, music-hating father, the King of Swamp Castle, is forcing him into an arranged marriage. As Herbert is asking Lancelot to help him escape, the King of Swamp Castle cuts the rope that he is using to climb out of the window, and Herbert falls to his apparent death. Lancelot is a bit puzzled at the king's actions, but it is revealed that Herbert was saved at the last minute by Lancelot's sidekick, Concorde. The King asks his son how he was saved, exactly, to which Herbert replies happily with a song. But the king charges at his son with a spear, preparing to kill him. Lancelot steps in to save him, then gives a tearful, heartfelt speech about sensitivity to the king on Herbert's behalf, and Lancelot is outed as a homosexual in the process, an announcement celebrated in a wild disco number (His Name is Lancelot).

King Arthur begins to give up hope of ever putting on the Broadway musical and laments that he is alone, even though Patsy has been with him the entire time (I'm All Alone). The Lady Of The Lake appears and tells Arthur that he and the Knights have been in a Broadway musical all along. Patsy also reveals he is half Jewish, but didn't want to say anything to Arthur because "that's not really the sort of thing you say to a heavily armed Christian." All that's left is for King Arthur to find the Grail and marry someone. After picking up on some not-too-subtle hints, Arthur decides to marry the Lady Of The Lake after he finds the Grail (Twice in Every Show).

Reunited with his Knights, Arthur meets Tim the Enchanter who warns them of the danger of a killer rabbit. When the rabbit bites a knight's head off, Arthur uses the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch against it, knocking down a nearby hill and revealing that the "evil rabbit" was actually a puppet controlled by a surprised puppeteer. A large stone block showing a combination of letters and numbers is also revealed. The letters are based on the seat numbering system used by each theatre.

After pondering the final clue, Arthur admits that they're "a bit stumped with the clue thing" and asks God to "give them a hand". A large hand points to the audience and Arthur realises that the letters and numbers refer to a seat number in the audience. The grail is "found" with some sleight of hand under the seat and the person sitting in the seat is rewarded with a small trophy and a polaroid photo. (The Holy Grail). Arthur marries the Lady of the Lake, who reveals that her name is Guinevere; Lancelot marries Herbert who finally has a chance to sing; and Sir Robin decides to pursue a career in musical theatre. Herbert's father attempts to interrupt the finale and stop all of the "bloody singing", but is hit over the head with a shovel by Lancelot, a nod to "He is Not Yet Dead". (Act 2 Finale/Always Look on the Bright Side of Life).

Wow, what a comedy! I was in stitches just listening so I can’t imagine what a hoot it would be to see this live. Absolutely love the fact that they use this popular myth/legend and just elaborate to make jokes.

Fantastic.

Favourite Songs: Laker Girls Cheer, The Song That Goes Like This (my joint fave), Find Your Grail, Run Away!, Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life, You Won’t Succeed On Broadway (my other joint fave), His Name Is Lancelot and I’m All Alone.

Favourite Character: Sir Robin, the Not-Quit-So-Brave-as-Sir-Lancelot

His geekiness surrounding musical theatre and his big number about them not knowing any Jews just did it for me!

#john du prez #eric idle #monty python’s spamalot #spamalot #ayearofmusicals #a year of musicals #music criticism #musical theatre #musicals

[izzy-b-hands]

Rock/Queentober 2020, Oct. 21st: Possession

Assigned lad for this prompt: Roger

Synopsis: Roger is possessed. Facts are facts. Roger, however, disagrees with this. Luckily, like in many big cities, you can find someone to deal with almost any problem you have, and the lads have found someone to help Roger with this. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I am not possessed!” Roger spat. 

Freddie winced. “Thing of it is, that sounds exactly like something that someone who is possessed would say.” 

“This is bullshit,” Roger whined as he crawled across the ceiling, his head cricked around backwards. “My own friends don’t trust me enough to believe me about this.” 

“We have eyes, Rog,” John sighed. 

“Look, this could all be some weird nonsense,” Brian said softly. “I’m right there with you on that, Roger. But let’s just say, for the hell of it, it isn’t, and this is very real. I think we should let the priest in, just in case.” 

“No priest!” Roger shrieked, loud enough that one of the front windows of his and Freddie’s flat cracked. 

“Roger!” Freddie scolded. “We don’t have the money to pay for the landlord to get that repaired!” 

The walls started to bleed as Roger crawled down one of them. “Sorry, Fred. Didn’t mean to do that.” 

“It’s started to rain blood and acid, please let me in!” the priest, just outside their front door, called. “It burns!” 

Without waiting for Roger’s permission or further protest, John strode to the door and welcomed the priest inside. 

“Goodness,” the priest remarked as he watched Roger scuttle back up and down the walls and across the ceiling, hissing at him. “How long has he been like this?” 

“Give or take like two weeks?” Brian shrugged. 

“Two weeks?!” 

“We just finished a tour two weeks ago,” John explained. “We thought maybe it was from the stress of touring!” 

Roger’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he roared in an otherworldly manner as the priest took a few steps towards him. 

“This?!” the priest scoffed, aghast. “You thought this was stress? In what world is this a normal stress reaction to anything?!” 

“We did our best with the knowledge we had, and the time and resources we had available,” Brian protested. “We’ve had quite a bit to take care of since getting back ourselves, after all. We wouldn’t have even known about this if Freddie hadn’t called us in a panic.” 

“Well, it wasn’t as if I was going to deal with this alone!” Freddie said, pointing to a seething, foaming-at-the-mouth Roger. “Even if this is out of his control, this isn’t great roommate or bandmate behavior, and I needed help!” 

“We don’t even know how or why this happened,” John interjected, addressing the priest. “Thing of it is...Rog isn’t really religious. At all. If asked, I’m fairly sure he’d say agnostic, leaning heavily atheist, though I suppose I haven’t sat down and asked him about those things as of late.” 

“None of us have,” Brian admitted. “But I think that’s about where he is, which makes this all the more odd.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” the priest said. “I can fix it without centering any religion into this. I personally use a crucifix in my exorcism ritual, but that’s just because it’s what I have on hand, since most other exorcisms I do are Christian in nature. For this version of the ritual, I could use anything, honestly.” 

He reached into his coat, and pulled a palm-sized crucifix out of an interior pocket. “Now, he won’t need to accept anything or anyone into his heart, or anything like that. But I will need a container that can be tightly closed.” 

“Antique milk pail?” Freddie suggested, holding it up as he grabbed it from the corner of the room. “We’ve had it here since it wouldn’t sell at the shop, but it’s an utter pain in the ass to get opened and closed.” 

“Perfect,” the priest said. “Though, once it is used for this, I cannot return it to you.” 

“Works for me; we’ve been needing to update the décor in here anyway,” Freddie said. 

“Get him down, and hold him on the floor, as best you can,” the priest instructed, and watched as Freddie set down the pail and reached up with Brian to tag team and yank Roger back down to the floor. 

Once he was knelt on the floor, Brian and Freddie holding him there as tightly as they could, the priest gestured to John. “The receptacle, in front of his mouth, as close as you can get it. We don’t want any of what’s going to come out spilling.” 

John grimaced at that, but pulled off the cover of the milk pail and pushed it in front of Roger’s growling mouth. 

“I should warn,” the priest sighed. “This gets gross. And your friend will have a headache after. But he will be free, and himself again. I won’t bless him unless he requests it, but I can bless the flat if you’d like me to.” 

“It probably can’t hurt anything,” Freddie said as the entire building began to shake, and he and Brian struggled to hold Roger in place. 

“On to it then,” the priest said. He moved back behind them and Roger, raised the crucifix in his hand up high...

And promptly smacked Roger in the back of the head with it. 

“Fuck you!” the thing inhabiting Roger screamed. 

“No, fuck you!” the priest shouted back, and walloped Roger again. 

“Fucking ow! Stop it!” Roger’s voice this time, his eyes rolled back to their usual position. 

“It’s hi-” Brian started to exclaim, only for the priest to interrupt him with a furious shake of the head. 

“Not yet it isn’t!” 

The third hard hit to Roger’s head did it, and a viscous liquid poured from Roger’s mouth and nose, at turns appearing pitch black, then a shining pearly white. It seemed he would choke on it, that the flow of it wouldn’t end. 

But after another moment, it finally stopped. 

John covered the pail quickly, hands shaking. 

“There,” the priest sighed, putting the crucifix back in his coat. “It is done.” 

Roger seemed dazed and Brian and Freddie gently pulled him to the couch, and arranged him on it, tossing a blanket over him. 

“He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” Freddie asked, a note of worry in his voice. 

“He is safe now, yes,” the priest replied. “He will be troubled no more by that spirit.” 

“No, I figured that,” Freddie said. “I meant physically, like should we be watching to make sure he doesn’t have a fucking concussion now?!” 

“Oh! Yes, that would be a good thing to be mindful of, but I think he should be well physically too,” the priest said. “Not as if I pitch for cricket anymore, or anything...” 

He left Brian and Freddie to fuss over Roger as he blessed the flat, then followed John back outside to his car. 

“Thank you,” John said as he paid the owed fifty pounds, and helped the priest get the milk pail into the backseat of the car. “We owe you.” 

“Not at all,” the priest said. “Honestly, the nondenominational rituals are much quicker, and much easier. This was a walk in the park, but I appreciate your thanks all the same.” 

John nodded. “Just to ask...is there anything we can do to prevent this happening to him again? Since we don’t even know what made it happen this time?” 

The priest frowned as he got into the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry, but no. Truthfully, it could have been any of you. In Christianity and other major religions, they like to say that there are all these reasons and whys and wherefores that make possession happen. But other times...it just happens. It could have been any one of you, frankly. Your friend in there simply had the bad luck of being the one chosen, this time around.” 

John waved as the priest drove away, the milk pail floating slightly in the backseat. He didn’t know what else he could do, how else he could react to...all of it. To the idea that it could happen again, to any of them. 

He had taken a few extra copies of the priest’s business card, and he tucked them securely into his trouser pocket. He hoped they wouldn’t ever need him again, but all the same, he wanted that information on hand and easily found, just in case. 

At least for now, they would be the only ones driving Roger (metaphorically) up the wall. 

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #Lee's Rock/Queentober 2020

[turnertimeline]

Christmas Dinner

Collection: Tim and Annie, Turner Family

Year: 1965

Characters: EVERYONE

Content Warnings: none

Rating: K

Style: Prose

Summary: Annie’s first Christmas dinner at Nonnatus House. 

Christmas dinner at Nonnatus was not what Annie had been expecting. The house was already full when they had arrived, having been delayed by Angela losing her left shoe and Teddy’s complaint that his jumper was itchy, and what Annie now knows is the traditional fussing with Tim’s hair that he grouses will only be repeated when the nuns see him, anyway. Sister Julienne greets them at the door, welcoming everyone - including Annie, to her surprise - with a hug, and allowing Teddy and Angela to take her hands and tow her inside. There were streamers and paper decorations and holly everywhere, and even a few sprigs of mistletoe and a tree overloaded with handmade decorations and shiny baubles. Annie, Tim and the others followed Sister Julienne and the children down the hall, towards the sound of music, laughter and children shouting.

Annie isn’t quite prepared for the number of people in the living room, nor for how incredibly friendly they all were. There seems to be a never-ending queue of people waiting to greet the Turner family, who she is sure must have seen them merely days previously; the children are already clambering into the laps of various adults or joining their friends on the floor. Annie is introduced to nuns, and the curate and his wife, and dear Fred and Violet, and the husbands of the nurses she already knows.

Besides the number of people present, the most overwhelming aspect of Christmas at Nonnatus is their apparently genuine friendliness. It isn’t long before Barbara has pulled her into conversation, before Trixie takes over to compliment her dress and her hair and to offer her any of her old maternity dresses she likes the look of, taking out seams is such a pain and can ruin a hemline even beyond Violet’s capable attentions. Plus the Sisters’ concern, from Sister Winifred's enthusiasm to Sister Mary Cynthia’s quiet greeting.

As soon as everyone has been introduced in the living room, Patrick appears with a camera in his hand, laughing good naturedly when it takes a while and Sister Julienne calling for quiet for the noise to settle and everyone to turn their attention to everyone.

“Now that everyone’s arrived, I think it’s time for the annual photograph.” There is soon good natured moaning and detours to grab another glass of punch or a mince pie before everyone troops off, and Annie somehow finds herself on the steps of Nonnatus, with Tim’s arm linked through hers and Shelagh just behind her, a hand on her shoulder. Teddy and Angela are holding her hands, and the picture takes while she’s laughing at Patrick’s sprint back to his wife’s side before the flash goes.

The resulting image - her and the Turners in the middle, the Nonnatus community fanned out around them, beaming faces and contentment radiating out from the still image, remains one of Annie’s most treasured possessions for the rest of her life.

Back inside, Christmas dinner is served, everyone squeezes in around the dining table and the children on small tables nearby, and Annie is overwhelmed and more than a little shocked. And still very stuck on how nuns are more accepting of her than her own parents, even now they know she’s expecting. Nuns and minister and a minister's wife.

It's all very overwhelming, far more overwhelming than any of the social situations she’s used to, not least because none of the small talk lessons she’d been given seem to apply.

Christopher (Trixie’s husband; dentist her brain supplies) spots the expression of mild panic in her eyes and shows her to a little alcove out of the way while Trixie is taking her turn fussing with Tim's hair. He grins at her, looking a little sheepish but warm and fond.

“It’s a lot to take in, huh? Especially your first time anywhere. They’re all so determined to make you feel welcome. But it really is just one big family.”

"I just... haven't had much family time." Annie admits. She doesn’t know how much he knows about her, but she’s sure Trixie has told him some.

"Well now you've got a family forever." Christopher tells her, patting her arm before leaving her to have some time alone.

Despite how overwhelming it is, and how she feels a little like hiding right now, being accepted into the Nonnatus family helps heal the hurt of her parents abandoning her. It doesn't make it disappear, but it does make her feel less alone, and she has a number of invitations for tea and cake already.

Tim realises she's disappeared after a while and finds her sitting by the window, watching the evening street outside. He doesn't say anything, just sits down next to her and takes her hand in his. Waiting for her to be ready to talk.

She leans against his shoulder. The hand holding thing is something he picked up from his parents, and something Annie has now seen in practice. Their mushy stuff has definitely rubbed off on him; he's much more demonstrative than people expect, but it's comforting.

"This isn't what I expected when you said convent," she says quietly eventually

He laughs. Nonnatus isn’t exactly a normal convent.

"Everyone was very welcoming."

"That's how they are. They don't care where you've come from or what brought you here. They don't judge, they just love." Tim sounds as warm and fond of the place as he always does.

"They always talked a lot about love, in church. I never really felt it until now."

"That’s one reason I’m so angry at your parents,” Tim admits quietly, and squeezes her hand. “This is the church I grew up with, nuns who never turned their back on someone even if their decisions went against their beliefs, and who really meant it when they talked about love. I'm not a believer like my mum, but I think that this is what it's supposed to be about."

Annie smiles. "Sometimes, Tim, you’d make a much better Christian than most who profess to believe."

Tim snorts. "Those people need to think about their faith again. You will always be welcomed here. You and your baby. And any one of the people here tonight will be there if you need them.”

Annie knocks their shoulders together, and then grins at him cheekily, wanting to lighten the mood. "So... do they always fix your hair like that?"

Tim rolls his eyes at her. "Pretty sure they’ve done it since the day I was born. Sister Evangeline used to tell me I came out with my hair sticking up."

Annie ruffles his hair playfully. "I wish I could have met her."

“Me too,” Tim replies, and although Annie knows he misses her, his voice is warm and happy.

That night, as the party winds down and the children start to tire out and climb into various laps, Annie finds it strange to finally put a face to all these people - predominantly women - Tim talks about every day. Especially Trixie and Sister Julienne. She's not really sure what she expected, but neither of them are really it - even though Tim’s descriptions of them were perfect.

She definitely hadn’t been expecting Sister Julienne's delight at Tim bringing a friend to Christmas, especially such a unreputable friend. Had expected perhaps kindness and compassion, given the work Annie knows she’s done and the high esteem Tim holds her in, but not her genuine welcome and her taking Annie’s hands in greeting and the warmth of her smile as she invited her in.

Sitting with Tim by the window, he tells her that Sister Julienne has taken a step back from her midwifery duties. Deliveries have become harder than they once were, and as hard as she found the decision, she couldn’t risk a mother's or a baby's health if her health failed her during a delivery. Despite her less hands on approach, though, people still found her a reassuring presence at clinic, and she remains one of the best when it comes to spotting possible complications - so good that Patrick will frequently consult with her over other doctors.

Eventually, once Tim has been cajoled into acting as Teddy’s pillow on the sofa, Trixie brings over a mug of Horlicks, quipping that it’s "practically traditional."

Trixie hands a mug to Annie,  "You're not just part of the Turner family now, sweetie. You've got all of the Nonnatuns, nuns and nurses both, not to mention the handyman." She grins and shakes her head fondly at Fred.

"Nonnatus isn’t what I expected," Annie replies, accepting the warm mug from her. "I should have, though. I can see Tim in all of you, your influences.”

Trixie smile softens at that, before turning wicked again. “That’s good; for years we feared he’d turn out just like his father!  Can you imagine if we had two of Patrick? For one, Violet would be perpetually out of buttons." Trixie laughs.

Annie giggles. "Tim sews mine for me, actually.." She takes a sip. "I didn't expect that he'd get his gentleness from his Dad and his bloody minded righteous fury from his Mum. Or his right hook.”

Trixie laughs along with her, and then stands quietly in the little alcove Annie is still sitting in, both of them sipping their drinks in companionable silence.

Annie is a little  surprised, but also… cautiously optimistic at maybe having a friend, even if that friend is her midwife.

Annie takes a deep breath and then looks down at her mug. "He asked me to marry him, you know. I said no.”

"I know. Shelagh said. He's a little... Over-enthusiastic at times.” Trixie replies.

“I don’t know if I would consider it enthusiasm. It was more of an offer to marry me so the baby wouldn’t be born out of wedlock, and I wouldn’t be one my own.”

“And I’m sure he meant it,” Trixie replies quietly, “But you won’t be, necessarily. Things are changing. Me and Christopher were together when Alison was born, but not when Alexandra was born. She’s his first wife’s daughter.” Trixie tells her.

"First wife?" Annie asks, curious.

"Yes, he was married before we met. Divorced by the time we did, and Alexandra was 6 when we married."

Annie makes a soft noise. "How was that? Loving someone else’s baby? I know Shelagh loved Tim the moment she let herself, but ... Shelagh loves everyone like that."

"Yeah, she does." Trixie smiles at her. "It was difficult at first. I was terrified that she'd hate me. That I'd be a horrible parent, that she'd think I was trying to take her mum's place. Or that I was trying to take her daddy away from her."

Annie is watching carefully. "And now?"

"I couldn't love her more. She's as much my child as Allie is." Trixie says. "The connection wasn't instant. But I worked on it by getting to know her. She spends most of her time with her mum. Which I think is why it took longer. Shelagh was around Tim all the time even before she married Patrick."

“I’ve never - I mean. I haven’t been able to imagine a future for myself, after finding out that I was expecting.” She puts a hand on her stomach, protective. “I want my baby, that’s not it, it’s just… I said no because we both deserve better, to be with someone who really loves us, but who wants to marry someone with an illegitimate baby?” Annie laughs a little self-deprecating.

Trixie wraps her arms around her shoulders and squeezes gently in comfort. Annie looks at her, sheepishly. “I haven’t even worn my favourite lipstick since I found out I was pregnant.”

“Well,” Trixie says bracingly, rubbing her shoulder and then clinking their mugs together. “That we can fix easy as pie. And then, who wouldn’t want someone as pretty as you and your sweet little baby?”

Annie laughs, and if it’s a little wet, neither of them mention it, and Trixie arranges to visit in the new year so they can compare wardrobes and Trixie can give her a makeover.

“What were you gossiping about?” Tim asks her with a grin when she joins him on the sofa after Trixie and Christopher have left, Allie sleeping on Christopher’s shoulder. “And should I be worried?”

Annie shakes her head and rests against his shoulder with a sigh, but it's warm. “We were talking about family,” Annie explains, quietly, and Tim makes a small noise back and takes her hand in his. Annie gives his hand a squeeze.

“Thank you so much for bringing me here for Christmas Tim.” Her voice is still quiet, and she keeps her hand in his. She has so much more she wants to say to him, but she can’t find the right words to explain how much it means to her. How it feels to be surrounded by people who know she’s expecting a baby, and unmarried, and are so welcoming. So she settles on just a simple thank you.

Dinner winds down and everyone starts filtering out, headed back to their own homes. Teddy had climbed up onto Tim’s lap sleepily as they were waiting for Shelagh. Who had slipped into the chapel for a few moments before they left. Patrick had Angela on his hip, with her head resting on his shoulder, looking just as sleepy as her little brother.  

#ctm #Call the midwife #narrative: prose #narrative: tim and annie #narrative: turner family #narrative: nonnatuns #1965

[mischiefmanaged1993]

Perfect - Prologue

Hey! So, I’ve been inspired lately and decided to write a Harry Potter fanfiction. I’ll be posting it on tumblr and Archieve of our Own. I’ve proofed read it like 5 times, I hope there’s no mistakes, if there is I’m terribly sorry! This is the first time posting a story on tumblr. I hope you enjoy reading it! 

October 25, 1981

Gone. In a blink of an eye, they were all gone. Taken from this world, taken from her, from them.

Jenna Blair was sitting on the pavement, her back facing the now empty house that use to hold so much life. So much warmth. Tears racing down her cheeks, an involuntary whimper escaped her lips. A baby girl sleeping soundlessly, cradled safely in her arms. While a young boy, held onto the only family he had left. His face buried in her sweater, crying silently. The world around her was moving in slow motion. The distant sounds of a few Auror’s entering the house to investigate did not comfort her, but only serve as a reminder of what took place only a half-hour ago. The images of what she witnessed tonight. Her sister, her brother, her brother-in-law. Dead. Gone; taken from her, from their children. A choked sob escaped her mouth.

Rustling from her right caught the attention of the eldest child, he held onto his aunt tightly. Terrified that whoever attacked his parents were coming back. Instead, a man with shoulder length dark hair and worried grey eyes showed up. Kneeling in front of the small group. Her vision was blurry from the tears, but she recognized the voice immediately. It was the man she loved; Sirius Black “Jenna...”

“They’re gone!” She cried, breaking down “Elizabeth… Alaric… Christian… they’re gone!”

Sirius looked at her, his eyes soft and sadden. It pained him to see the woman he loved in so much despair. He wanted nothing more than to hug her tight; tell her that everything will be alright, but he knew better. He saw the Dark mark above the house behind them. Knew of the meaning. She didn’t have to tell him. The Death Eaters had attack and killed. That was the reason he was here, knowing that she’d be visiting her sister. Oddly, they failed to finish off the children, which he suspected was because Jenna had arrived just in time.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, closing his eyes tightly when she cried harder.

“What am I going to do? The children... I can’t… I can’t watch over them! I’m 21! They need… They need their parents…” Jenna sobbed unceasingly, holding the sleeping toddler closer. Scared that she’d lose her as well if she’d let go. “I’m terrified… I can’t raise two young children. I can’t financially. I’m not even sure I can be a good mother-figure.” Breathing heavily, gulping for breath. This was too much.

Taking her face with both his large hands, starring into her beautiful green eyes “Jennifer Blair, listen to me, you can do this. They need their aunt more than anything right now. I know you can do this, I believe in you. You’re a Gryffindor, you’re the bravest woman I know.” Using his thumb to wipe away her tears “I’ll help you any way I can.” Noticing the young boy trembling, curled up next to his aunt, an attempt to get some warmth no doubt.

“My dear, we should get all three of you home.” He tried softly. “It’s freezing, and the children are shivering.” Coaxing her to stand up from the cold floor. She felt the pain weighing her down, having trouble to speak from the grief, the guilt of not having been there sooner, maybe she could have prevented this. The fear and unknown of having to raise two young children so suddenly. The toddler moved a little, having been woken up from the commotion around her. The first thing Sirius saw when she looked up at him, were those bright chestnut brown eyes. The same ones as her father’s, Christian O’Connor. Jenna trembled, taking a huge breath of frosty air, she had to be strong, Sirius was right, they needed her more than anything “Damon… Come.” She whimpered.

“Let me bring her.” Sirius soft voice touched her ears. Nodding, she let him hold her niece. Taking another deep breath, Jenna straighten herself and took hold of her nephew’s little hand. Taking her wand out, both adults nodding and apparated to her house.

 4 years later…

“Aunt Jenna! I got my Hogwarts letter!”

This was the reason why on a warm summer day, Jenna had taken her nephew and niece to Diagon Alley for the first time. Earlier this morning, her nephew had gotten his Hogwarts letter. Unable to stop herself from chuckling, seeing their amazed expressions when they walked down the alley was adorable. So much to see, so many different shops with all their unique products. Once the initial shock had worn off, Damon looked over his school list, but glanced in every window as they passed, and Naomi just looked around, trying to take in everything. The first stop they had to make was at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Coming out an hour later with the required money and a very pale looking Damon “I don’t like carts. I hate carts.” He mumbled, trying very hard to not vomit on the stone path. Naomi, on the other hand, wanted to go for a second ride.

“Aunt Jenna, I need school uniforms, I can get those here?” Damon asked, looking up with a frown. Still looking quite pale.

His aunt chuckled and nodded “Yes, at Madam Malkin’s Robes.��

They arrived at the shop and were in luck, she had just finished with another Hogwarts student. While Damon stood on the stand, Madam Malkin’s was fixing up his uniform robe. Jenna smiled fondly at her nephew, he had grown so much. It’s been four years since the lost of their parents, it hadn’t been easy on any of them, including herself. She wished Elizabeth could be here right now to see her son, to see him off to Hogwarts. She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard her nephew ask, “Aunt Jenna, where is Naomi?”

.  . .  .  . .  .  . .  .

Curious chestnut brown eyes glanced around, staying at the robes shop had become too boring for little Naomi. A wizard passing by the shop with an owl in a cage had caught her attention, wanting to see it closer she had left without anyone noticing her. At first it was fun exploring this new place, it felt like she was on some big adventure. Unfortunately, as time passed, she couldn’t find her way back to her aunt and brothers. Panic started to rise within the small seven years old. There were too many wizards and witches, no one she recognized. Tears streamed down her cheeks, sitting down in front of some store, scared and alone.

“Why are you crying?” Naomi looked up at the sound of a young boy’s voice. Standing in front of her, two identical twins with fiery flaming hair, brown eyes and freckles. Additionally, they seemed to be the same age as her. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, telling them that she was lost and wanted her mum. One of the twins bent down to her level and smiled “Don’t cry, we’ll help you find your mum, I’m Fred, that’s my brother George, and you are?”

“I think she knows we’re brothers Fred! We’re twins!” George replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Naomi giggled and both twins smiled “My name is Naomi.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Naomi!” Both twins said in unison. The twin named George extended his hand for her to take. Helping the young little girl off the ground, they were almost the same height, the twins slightly taller than she “We’ll bring you to our mum. She can help you find your mum.”

They didn’t have to go looking very far, a short, plump woman with the same flaming fiery red hair, was rushing towards them. Two boys following her closely, one looked to be about four years old while the other looked older than the twins, possibly eight years old? The woman had a look of anger, yet relieved when she saw the twins “Fred! George! There you are! I’ve been looking- What have you two done this time?!” The twin’s mum exclaimed upon seeing the little girl. Molly Weasley starred down at her two sons, then at the girl, her eyes softening.

“We didn’t do anything!” Both twins defended themselves.

Their mother looked at them suspiciously before kneeling to the little girl’s height. Giving her a motherly, gentle smile. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” Even her voice was much kinder than when she spoke to her boys. More tears fell from Naomi’s eyes.

“I’m lost, I want my mummy.”

Molly gave her a tender smile, extending her free hand, which the little girl took without hesitation. “Then let’s go find your mummy. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“N-Naomi.”

“Naomi, what a lovely name. Percy, you keep an eye on the twins. Don’t leave them out of your sight.” She turned to her eldest son, to which he nodded reluctantly. Eyeing both his younger brothers suspiciously while they grinned back at him. All six of them walked down the alley, looking for Naomi’s family. To help with the search, Molly had asked what her mother looked like, and was confused when the little girl told her she didn’t remember. So, they looked around the crowded alley, hoping to spot them.

“Naomi!”

Jenna, with a relieved cry, rushed towards the group with Damon at her sides. Taking Naomi into her arms, hugging her tightly “Thank Merlin you’re safe! Naomi, don’t you ever scare me like that ever again young lady.” Staring with all the seriousness she could muster into the little girl’s eyes. Once she got a nod from her niece, she smiled at the little one.

“Jennifer Blair?” Jenna looked at the older woman and gasped softly. Molly was staring at the younger witch, so many questions, worries, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice them all. They hadn’t seen each other since the funeral of Christian and Elizabeth. She had sent owl after owl, wondering how she was doing. The few that she got back, weren’t very detailed.  

Molly had been her sister’s closest friend since Hogwarts. The guilt over took her, she could have written back more often. Could have even visited her. She knew how much Molly adored Elizabeth’s children, which only made her feel worse. Mrs. Weasley looked down at the two young children and tears gathered in her eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed how much the little girl looked like her mother? The little boy, so much like his father, but with his mother’s kind eyes “I should have known. She looks so much like her mother. They’ve grown so much since last time I saw them.”

“Mrs. Weasley, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean… I should have… I’m sorry.” Jenna apologized. She didn’t need to say more; the older woman gave her an understanding smile. She knew the struggle the young witch was going through, having lost her brothers in the war as well. It was challenging times and Molly would never dare hold it against her.

“Don’t sweetie, I understand.” Placing a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder in a comforting way “Need to continue shopping for Bill’s and Charlie’s school books. Please come over for tea some time, and I won’t be taking no for an answer.” Adding quickly when the young woman was about to say she didn’t want to be a burden. After agreeing, Molly smiled at the little family before walking away with her sons. The twins waving goodbye to Naomi, which she returned.

 4 years later…

“You behave yourself, got it? I want you to send an owl once you’ve been sorted telling me which house you’re in, tell me how your first week went, I want to know everything.” Jenna fussed over her niece. Straightening her jacket, her nephew standing next to her, rolling his eyes at their aunt in amusement. It was like this every year. “You have everything? Not missing anything?”

“Aunt Jenna, I’m sure I’ve got everything, I will send you an owl after my first week, and I promise to not get into trouble.” Naomi said, beaming. Today was her first day at Hogwarts, she was finally going to the school her brother had kept talking about for years. The school her parents attended. Jenna smiled, trying very hard not to cry.

“Alright, watch over your sister. Damon, I’m warning you, no owls and please, please stop getting into detention.” She begged her nephew.

“Not my fault! Its that greasy hair git that keeps giving me detention for no reason!”

“The train is about to leave, come on, give me a hug.” After hugging each one, they embarked onto the Hogwarts Express. Opening the windows and waving at their aunt as the train began to move away from King’s Cross Station. Once the train station was out of eyesight, Damon went to find his friends, Naomi following, looking inside compartments to see if there were any empty ones. She didn’t get far until something cold and slimy fell on her head. The sound of a bucket hitting the floor right behind her rang in her ears.

Her brother turned when hearing the commotion, seeing his sister wipe slime from her face. Damon’s mouth was slightly opened in stun silence. Two identical heads popped out of a compartment, their brown eyes opened wide when they noticed that the victim of their prank wasn’t the one they were hoping.

“We’re terribly sorry, you have to believe us, that prank wasn’t meant for you.” George walked up, trying to explain.

“That prank was for our older brother, Percy.” Fred explained, slightly disappointed it didn’t work. Both twins backed away when she glared at them.

“You did this?!” The sounds of other students snickering and laughing only fueled her anger. She felt humiliated and they haven’t even arrived at Hogwarts. Wonderful way to start her first year.

“It wasn’t meant for you!”

Damon cleared his throat, walked passed the twins, giving them a glance before smiling a little at his sister “Its okay, Nao, let me fix this.” Waving his wand, muttering a spell, and the goo was all gone. Yet it didn’t take away the embarrassment she felt. Her eyes had never left Fred and George, muttering a thanks to her brother, Naomi turned and stormed opposite from the twins, promising herself to get them back.

 2 months later…

After arriving at Hogwarts, during the sorting ceremony Naomi and the Weasley twins were sorted into Gryffindor. The next morning at breakfast, Fred and George, unknowingly, had their cereal bewitched. When they both went to put their spoons in the bowl, milk and cereal blew up in their face. Naomi was grinning, trying hard to hide her giggles, both twins quickly figured out that she was behind it. From then on, an all-out prank war began between the three. Which was the reason why they were in detention tonight. During potions, the three of them thought it would be funny to prank the other. Sadly, neither pranks went as planned. The prank that was meant for Naomi had, unfortunately, hit Professor Snape. While advancing intimidatingly towards the twins, who he figured were at the base of this prank, he got hit with another prank, which was meant for Fred and George.

Naomi apologized repeatedly, taking the entire blame. Fred and George starred at her in complete amazement, she was ready to get punish for both pranks. The brother’s looked at each other, deciding that they weren’t going to let her take all the blame.

“Professor, it was us!” George said.

“Naomi had nothing to do with those.” Fred added, motioning to the pranks. Naomi looked at both twins, her eyes wide when they in turn took responsibility. Denying her involvement of any kind.

“Detention. All three of you.” Snape said through gritted teeth, glaring at the trio “And 30 points from Gryffindor!”

Which was the reason why all three were now polishing the trophy room, without using magic, very much passed curfew. Filch, who was monitoring the detention, had rushed out when the school’s poltergeist, Peeves, had caused some ruckus down the hall. It was silent between the trio for some time until one of the twins, Fred, spoke “You know, that was a pretty good prank.”

“It was brilliant.” George grinned.

Naomi giggled, “Thank you. May I add, yours was hilarious. Professor Snape’s face was priceless.”

All three looked at each other before breaking into a fit of laughter. Fred and George mimicking the faces that Snape had made in Potions, causing Naomi to howl with laughter. The rest of their detention was spent talking about the days event and cleaning. After that night, the twins and Naomi became very good friends.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #my writing #george weasley

[annacaffeina]

REALLY inappropriate personal rant:

Ok, a thing that happened at my sister’s wedding on Saturday has been bugging me. It’s the sort of thing I don’t usually let get to me, but here I am, stewing. So now all of you get to hear about it. I would put in a keep reading break, but I never bothered to learn how to do that, and I’m not going to now.

As you already know my mom has rapidly progressing early onset Alzheimer’s. It sucks and has been hard in a number of ways. Much of the family have been trying to make pilgrimages to see her the last few months, but even so her progress is such that if you saw her two months ago you would be unprepared for her current state.

One family member who has made no effort to see my mom is my dad’s older brother Fred. Now guys, Fred’s real important. He’s like head baptist in charge of Jesus in Massachusetts or something. He’s got the straight line to Lord God himself, and that keeps him traveling all over the state of Mass. So even though we live maybe 2 hours from him he hasn’t had a moment to see my mom in 2 years. God’s got him hopping.

So here we are at my dad’s youngest child’s wedding and he’s already got a chip on his shoulder about his brother not coming to see his dying wife, and my mom is embarrassing to him now. She can’t remember how to use a fork and shoves mashed potatoes in her mouth with her hands. That are dirty because she can’t remember how to wash them. Which is a problem because she has frequent toileting accidents now and can’t shower herself effectively. So she kinda has an odor. She also basically can’t use words anymore, so even though she has some remaining understanding of what is happening, she can’t communicate. Also she shuffles when she walks, and all she wanted to do was dance. Which is to say my dad had a lot on his plate.

Over walks uncle freddie, lays his hand on my mom’s head, prays (or whatever?) on her for a minute, and then assures my dad it’s all going to be ok because he’s blessed her, and saunters off. MOTHERFUCKER LAID HANDS ON MY MOTHER TO CURE HER. To my dad’s credit he made 0 scenes at my sister’s wedding and aside from a few snarky comments to his other siblings acted as if nothing had happened.

Some of you may ask what’s wrong with a little faith? To which I reply FUCK THAT. Here’s the thing though. It is absolutely delusional and arrogant and narcissistic to think that your line to god is going to cure a terminal illness. That’s fucked up. And also, if you really believe this WHERE THE FUCK YOU BEEN FOR TWO YEARS?!? You’re telling me you really believe you have this power and you let her lose her mind, her voice, her career? You let her piss and shit herself, and choke on her food, and trip on her feet because you’ve been too busy to pop on by and fix this? FUCK YOU! You think you can fix this and you let your brother lose his wife and did nothing? What a good Christian.

Should he read this (which he won’t because my liberal ways are somewhat off-putting to him, and I’m betting he doesn’t know what a tumblr is) I’m quite sure he would say my blasphemous cynicism ruined his blessing, and that’s why my mom won’t be saved. But what the fuck kind of God is that? He could help, he’s been asked to help, but he’s going to let my mom die of pneumonia acquired from choking on food while locked inside her own brain stripped of her last dignities because he doesn’t like my attitude?

You know what I would say to that God? Fuck you. Fuck you right in your divine thrussy. But not really. What I would really say is more along the lines of: “Oh mighty and powerful God, please restore my mother to me. Just tell me how many goats or orphans you want sacrificed and I’m your girl! Just tell me what it takes to satisfy your violent, sadistic quota and I will do it in thine name. I am here to serve in whatever way fills your petty and cruel needs, just give me back my mom.”

And now I get to my real problem. I’m super mad about being mad. You can’t get this kind of bitter railing at God without a whole lot of hurt behind it, and I hate that. I prefer to be an even, calm, rational family member. I like to be unshakable, and measured. You can’t be implacable if you’re screaming obscenities at the heavens. I AM A PARAGON OF MENTAL HEALTH DAMMIT! I’m SO ANGRY that this one unexpected incident of absurd arrogance cracked my shield and now I’m stuck sitting here with my actual feelings. Fuckin, Jesus.

[ellrond]

Fave Thomas headcanons, pls.

sorry for the late reply!! this has been in my inbox for like a week but i wanted to give it the attention it deserves!! 

also i dont know if you’re asking for fandom headcanons that ive noticed or my own, but seeing as how i havent seen that many (none actually really spring to mind if im honest) this will just be an incomplete list of my own thomas headcanons unless otherwise stated

(disclaimer: of course it’s very difficult to have an original thought these days, and if you’ve seen these headcanons anywhere else, know i’m not trying to pass someone else’s idea off as my own, it just so happens that i have come to a certain conclusion that another person has, without me even seeing their posts. two people can have the same ideas without ever having any sort of interaction or seeing their posts alright alright glad we got that sorted)

fandom headcanons that r great and i fully endorse 

thomas is gay. he absolutely adores miranda and they share a sex life (whether that be through group sex, mutual masturbation, or straight up one on one sexual activity) but he is a homosexual man

thomas is a top. this one the fandom seems to be agreed on. bottom thomas?? i dont know her

he doesnt like wearing his wig much it is itchy 

my own headcanons

during elections he cast his votes for the Whigs rather than the Tories and should he have ever stood for office in the lower house would have done so as a Whig (the less right-wing of the two political parties during this period of British history) but believed party politics were dangerous and detrimental to the greater good of the country. He saw the dangers of the laizze-faire attitude the Whigs had and their sometimes aggressive anti-Catholicism disturbed him although sometimes the way he has been raised means he lets anti-Catholicism come into his line of thinking (as seen when things get heated with him and pops). That being said, he was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a royalist and had Tory tenancies (I think it’s safe to assume there was little love in Alfred Hamilton for liberalism, and I’m sure Thomas was raised a Tory) in that regard. Thomas was born very close to the time of the Glorious Revolution and with his family being an old aristocratic one, conservatism, in one form or another, would have been in his very bones.

tl;dr ^^ he’s a liberal who dislikes party politics and subscribes to ideologies from both sides of parliament 

he’s a genuine believer in God and in Christ. He knows his scripture (he must be quoting the bible more than hes saying his own original thoughts in the show probably gfgdgfd) and Christ is important to him. He bases his life around Christ’s teachings - that’s why he’s so kind and so concerned with forgiveness and redemption and hope. He rejects the violence and hatred found in other parts of the Bible and has a great love for the gospels instead and finds his strength in Christ’s words about love and kindness and charity and forgiveness. He believes that to be a good Christian one must above all else be kind. He also highly values the lesson of the Good Samaritan (surprise surprise said no one ever) and reminds himself daily to never judge someone else for the life choices and decisions. 

his mother was just as bad as his father. I’ve seen people suggest that thomas’ mother must have been an angel to balance out the devil of alfred for thomas to have turned out so good and im calling bullshit. someone with two mean-spirited and cruel parents can absolutely be wonderful people, and in thomas’ case i believe it was the distance of his parents and their disdain and judgement of the world and unkindness that made thomas quite the opposite. he saw the mistakes they were making and learned from them. 

we know he went to eton. he deffo started kissing boys at the age of 13 or 14. he’s been a heartbreaker since teenagehood. 

he’s around 30-35 when we see him in 1705 (less a headcanon and more a lazy estimation similar to ones hundreds of other people have made) 

he enjoys sex a lot. he’s had a number of sexual partners most of whom were of the same social standing as he and he’s been in love before he meets james. he’s never loved anyone like james though. he believes james is his soulmate

he is caught between thoroughly enjoying high society life with all of its frills - the fashion, the music, the art, the luxurious houses and exuberant interiors - and feeling guilty about being so rich whilst others have so little in comparison. he’s not perfect, and so he lets himself enjoy the glamour of aristocratic europe without trying to give it too much thought. 

it’s canon he’s a Big Thinker and was homies with other Big Thinkers (he probs fucked half of the enlightenment giants but thats for anotehr time) and I Think he’d spend a lot of time Thinking about Big Things you know like ??? would educating the masses be a good thing?? child labour, huh whats that all about is that worth it?? why are some people entitled to more simply because of who they were born as? and what even IS class? and other big questions politics and sociology and criminology and philosophy and economics and history students spend £9k a year thinking about lmao (tag urself im tragic politics student still cryin over the overlooked work engles did for yrs n yrs oh fred you was done so bad i lovE YOU) 

crazy horny boy have james wear a butt plug during dinners with alfred lmao oh tomhas you wild thing

#thomas hamilton #ellie writes #IVE GOTTEN SO TIRED SINCE I STARTED WRITING THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry #i love asks like this i love you #black sails ////// #sex cw /// #nswf cw ////// #Anonymous #ask

[jessekg]

Kanye West's Sunday Service: has the rapper started a church?

It's a scene you might expect to find in a movie, or perhaps on Sunday morning TV. Surrounded by mountains, a gospel choir, dressed all in white, sings and chants at the direction of a man, also in white. Just outside the frame, members of the congregation, also all in white, break into rapturous dancing and chanting.

If it looks and sounds like a church service, it's probably a church service, but in this case, it's something a little different. The man at the centre is rapper/producer Kanye West, his hair dyed bright red and a huge smile across his face, and rather than standing behind a pulpit, he's behind a keyboard and a sampler, crouched down and bobbing his head to the beat. Behind him, percussionists wait for their cue to join the choir, banging on drums to supplement the music coming from West's sampler; in this case it's gospel musician Fred Hammond's This is the Day.

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A post shared by Kanye Sunday Services (@kanyesundayservices) on Feb 24, 2019 at 2:23pm PST

West had a tumultuous 2018, alienating fans with his remarks on slavery and his relationship with Donald Trump, but since the beginning of 2019, he's been looking for redemption through conducting what he calls Sunday Service. It's a music-focused event held in various locations, including in and around his home in Los Angeles, the Adidas headquarters in Portland, Oregon and even on an airplane mid-flight. It was recently announced that the next stop is the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, where West and his choir will be performing on Easter Sunday.

But what exactly is Sunday Service? Is it a recording session for a new album, a concert series, a church service, a celebrity cult? All of the above?

According to Kim Kardashian West, who also acts as the official videographer for Sunday Service, it's none of the above. "We didn't really have a name for it because it's more of just a healing experience," Kardashian, who was joined by sisters Kourtney and Khloé, said on Jimmy Kimmel Live.

"It's really uplifting and you feel excellent," added Khloé. "We have so many friends that maybe feel a little too judgmental when they go to church or something like that. When they come here they feel so free and safe."

There's no praying. There's no sermon. There's no word. It's just music and it's just a feeling.- Kim Kardashian West

When Kimmel asked, half-jokingly, whether they pray to Kanye or to a God at this church-not-a-church, Kim said, "Actually, there's no praying. There's no sermon. There's no word. It's just music and it's just a feeling."

At this point, her other sister, Kourtney, interjected with, "but it's Christian."

Despite the claim, there has been at least one sermon at Sunday Service, although it was delivered by rapper DMX, who lead the gathered attendees in a morning prayer on March 17.

Who is Sunday Service actually for?

As of yet, Sunday Service is an invite-only event, drawing in guests such as the West/Kardashian/Jenner family, but also David Letterman, Katy Perry, Orlando Bloom, Diplo, Rick Rubin, Paris Jackson, Courtney Love, Leon Bridges, Francis and the Lights and more.

Guests are asked to not speak to the press about the event, making information on it scarce, but there seem to be no rules against recording and posting it on social media.

"Who else needs a little positivity today?" wrote L.A.-based vocal coach Stevie Mackey on Instagram after attending a Sunday Service. "I grew up singing in every choir in town so this brings back so many fun memories."

Even though it's not technically a church, it seems to be based on one, with the addition of West, who acts as a hybrid of emcee, conductor, producer and, well, pastor. The ultimate goal of Sunday Service, according to longtime West collaborator Tony Williams, is to communicate the message of love effectively," he told a crowd at during a Sunday Service at the Adidas headquarters. "This is the church to go with you out into the world."

Kanye and Gospel

None of this should come as a surprise to anyone who has followed West's career. Gospel music has long had an influence on the producer/rapper, and West has never been one to hide his Christianity.

On 2004's Jesus Walks, West rapped, "They said you can rap about anything except for Jesus/ that means guns, sex, lies, video tape/ but if I talk about God my record won't get played."

Jesus Walks is, naturally, performed as part of Sunday Service, as are many other spiritual versions of his songs. In the hands of the choir, for example, West's 2010 King Crimson-sampling hit song Power becomes an uplifting self-empowerment sing-along.

There are also covers of other songs, such as Marvin Gaye's Save the Children and the Beatles' Blackbird. West will also perform live remixes of songs, such as the aforementioned This is the Day, which earned Hammond's approval.

"When I heard and seen it ... um um um #kanyewest flipped it!" Hammond wrote on Twitter. "Save the negative comments about this Luke 19:40 'I tell you,'" he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out #choirmusicrocks."

Gospel samples have made their way into West's work in the past, dating back to his 2004 debut, College Dropout. His 2016 album The Life of Pablo was even called a hip-hop and gospel album. While it wasn't the uplifting album many fans had hoped for, parts of songs from Pablo that contain gospel elements are also regularly performed at Sunday Service.

There is also a workshop vibe to Sunday Service, especially when West remixes a song live or plays new music from his upcoming album Yahndi for the first time — an album that, judging on what we've heard, could be his most gospel-heavy yet.

If West is looking to put a controversial year behind him, it would seem he's looking to do it through gospel music — and hoping an Easter Sunday performance can give him redemption.

#Kanye West #Sunday Service #Coachella #yahndi #Gospel #Music #Hip-hop