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floatinginwords · 3 years

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Saved by the Devil (7/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: You have a talk with some friends and get a little job offered

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic...yet)

A/n: this took me so long to write. I hope you like it. Have a wonderful day:)

You walked through the streets on London feeling lost and uneasy. The state record of your father was there, written officially: he was declared dead. You felt like you were going crazy for not even trusting the piece of evidence. You asked the secretary about a million questions about how they even go about certifying a death. The woman looked at you as if you were crazy and you probably looked it. None of the cuts were healed, parts of your face were beginning to bruise, and the stich on your hand was horrendous. At least you didn’t reek of alcohol. It bothered you that the certificate under cause of death read “suicide”. You distinctly remember Sabini tell you that your father had got himself killed.

‘Why stage it like a suicide and then tell the underworld you killed him? Couldn’t you have just paid the cops to look the other way?’ A million more questions swarmed your way non of which the secretary could answer.

And so you left the place walking slowly back home feeling odd. Dead is dead right you don’t need the details. You don’t want them. You tell yourself this as you get home, telling yourself that the uneasy feeling was from the physical night before not because someone was watching you.

‘I’m not safe staying here’ You think to yourself. You start fantasizing about all the different places you could disappear to, the new life you could create for yourself. You just needed enough money to so. That wad of cash underneath your bed was good for a boat ride and hotel stay, not for entire life change. You were gonna need to start saving and earning, more fast. The air was changing and not for the better.

Once you get home, you can see a lamp on in the window. You try to walk past the figure sitting in the living room, but their voice rings out stopping you from making another move.

“(Y/n), we need to talk.” Ada says.

“What about?” you ask sitting opposite of her in the living room.

“Its about Tommy,” she pauses a minute trying to gauge your reaction, you don’t give any. She sighs, “I just want you to be careful around him.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused from where this is coming from. “What do you mean?”

“I mean are you gonna keep coming home looking half dead with my brother having to carry you in here with no sort of explanation?”

“I’m sorry about that.” You apologize knowing she must have been scared out of her mind seeing you like that. You would have been too had it been her or Trinity.

“What are you even thinking working for him? Didn’t you want out of your father business, aren’t you on some guys shit list?” Ada takes a deep breath calming herself.

“I have it under control.” You can hear Ada groan in frustration. You understand why she was so defensive about this. Her family was dangerous and to be around them was like being around death itself. At least that’s how Ada put it.

“No you don’t just look at yourself!” She sternly says, pointing a finger at you.

You stifle a laugh from your throat at how motherly she looks, “Ada, please save the parenting for Karl.”

She rolls her eyes at your jest and gets up from the couch. “Are you gonna work for him again?”

“If I need the money...”

“I told you don’t have to pay rent while you stay here. You can take as long as you need to find steady job.”

You fake a smile and nod your head, “You’re right.” You didn’t want to bring up the unease you’ve been feeling. Or the need to flee the country based on a little paranoia that may just go away. It was unfair to her to place this burden upon her when she's finally made it out of feeling that way herself. But you’ll be damned if you weren’t gonna at least prepare yourself for the uncertain future.

*******************************************************************************************

Trinitys apartment was the same as it always has been. Neat to the point where it looked picture perfect. You always wondered when she had the time to keep tidy. You arrived early in the morning, knowing she would be up and that it would be the perfect time to cross into what you thought was still sabinis territory.

“You know your friend took over the Eden Club. I haven’t seen any of Sabini guys in awhile” Trinity says attempting to ease you as you keep looking out the window.

“who?”

“The Shelby’s. I think it was his brother or whatever. I wasn’t there when it happened but I heard it was brutal.”

“What did sabini do?” You ask.

“no one heard from him or Alistair.” She states

“Hmm.” You say finding it odd the gangster hadn’t retaliated yet

“You know you can maybe work there again? If you asked nicely? The Shelby’s seem to like you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh please I was the first person ada called to tell me about you running off with her brother. Did you know they were related?”

“No.”

She notices your lack of words. And though trinity wanted to be playful and tease her friend, she was worried.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?”

“Im thinking of leaving, trinity.” You say

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Im just thinking.” You sip your tea lightly, feeling the soothing warmth go down your throat, “Something feels wrong.”

“What is it?”

“I fear that something nefarious is upon me. And that it’s a matter of time before It decides to kill me.”

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

“I need your help planning.” You say ignoring her questions. You didn’t want to subject her to your nightmares about your father which haven’t ceased at all. In face they were increasing in violence and color. Most of them drawing from memories. If it wasn’t your father that was alive coming to hunt you down, it was most likely a dedicated servant of his. You wondered who was was keeping the business going seeing as you didn’t take over and were the only child of your father. You had no other logical explanation of what the universe was trying to tell you with these dreams and gut feelings.

You open your purse revealing the wad of money from underneath your bed and papers of different id. “Your gonna hold this for me. When I need it ill come for it, if I add to it ill come here okay? Just make sure it stays hidden and untouched.”

She nods and takes it gently from your hands, “You’re being serious.”

“Deadly.”

You stood for a couple more hours, talking and eating until the afternoon came. You said your goodbyes and were on your way back on the streets of London. You felt good about yourself after seeing Trinity. It felt like years since you seen her.

You hear the honking of an annoying horn bring you out of your thoughts. You see Tommy Shelby behind the wheel, a cocky grin on his face. He parks the car and you wait for him outside not wanting to sit in close proximity of him. He comes around, outing a cigarette loosely around his pink lips. He doesn’t light it.

“I was looking for you at Adas.” He says standing in front of you with hands in his pockets.

“Hmm why?” You ask.

“How are your stiches?”

“Fine,” your face grows warm as you think about the drunken thoughts you had about him. You had them caged up this time but you were now very aware of the fact that you had them, “what is that you want?” you ask avoiding his eyes, afraid of getting lost in them. You could not afford to grow any sort of attachment to the man. The stories you’ve heard, the warning you’ve gotten from his own sister, you know that he was no good.

“Take a ride with me.” He simply says walking away from you.

Your legs move before you think. Following his words like a sailor would a siren. You suddenly felt very self conscious around the man as you sat near him.

“Where is this coming from?” You think to yourself feeling stupid you begin to argue with yourself in your head trying to find the soure of this new unwanted attraction. Maybe you were still drunk. No its been days. Or maybe you were tired. Sleep has been hard to comeby these days.

You look across at him and study his features. He was a very handsome man, no doubt about it. You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until he catches you.

“What?” He asks

“Have you called May?” Your not sure why your mind went to that but it was.

He chuckles, “Are you really that interested in that?”

“No, im just making conversation.”

“Well I did. Ill be seeing her later this week. See how shes training my horse.” He sends a smile your way before his eyes go back to the road.

The smile sends your stomach doing flips. “You know your not as scary as people make you seem, Mr.Shelby.” Another statement slipping from your lips.

“Trust me, I can be scary. Hand me that file”

He parks the car in front of lovely looking house, a guard standing outside the gates of it. You hand him the file, next to you on the seats and he fiddles through it. You stare at the house with the guard in front of it through the rearview mirror.

“Why are we parked here?” You ask you eyes trained to the rearview mirror

“Had to make a stop.”

You see the guard notice the car and head towards you. He walks toward your window and leans in. “Sir,” The guard says totally ignoring your presence, “You cant park here.”

“Apologies, me and the Mrs. were just lost.”

“Well get a move on.” Thomas starts the car and moves it one block a way before parking again. He checks his watch.

“23 seconds,” He say to himself writing it down, “Are you gonna ask any questions?”

“I think I would rather leave this one alone.”

“Smart girl.”

You end up driving 2 more hours around the city. He tells you about the Eden club takeover and how his brother Arthur is now running the game there. Sabini hasn’t been seen inawhile. Nor his most trustworthy comapnions

“Do you know Alfie solomons?” He asks

“I do.” Alfie Solomon’s to you was an unpredictable man, You never could predict what he was gonna say.

“I was gonna have Arthur have dinner with him alone. But Arthur doesn’tknow Solomon’s too well.”

“Mr. Shelby-“

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to.” His eyes burn into your skull. You take all the self control you have to not turn your head and stare into them.

You think about the proposition and grow very hesitant. A part of you wants to take it and another part doesn’t. Quick money could be very useful to you but at what cost if its for situations like this. A dinner with gangsters could become deadly very quickly with one wrong move.

“When is this dinner?”

“Friday.”

“Ill give you answer before than” You say seeing it was Tuesday. You open the door to the car and walk out of it. You were beginning to suffocate under his stare and you needed to breath.

The air was crisp and refreshing to your lungs as you speedy walk down the streets making lefts and rights. The annoying horn returns to your ears as soon as you feel calm. You turn back around to scream when you realize its not the same car. It’s a black car with weird, tinted window, almost like a police car. The windows roll down, revealing a man with grey, busy eyebrows and mustache. His eyes held an evil glint in them

(Y/fn) (y/ln)?” He asks do it looked like he already knew the answer in his head that he knew who he had.

“Sorry wrong gal.” You lie turning around to get out for whatever situation that was.

“Get her boys.” You hear the man sigh. You feel large hands grab around your body and large funny smelly napkin forced against your mouth.

‘Chloroform’ you think as you pass out into the darkness.

Read pt.8

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@captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @evelyn-4034

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #Fanfic

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ill-will-editions · 4 years

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Against Pandemic Capitalism. An Interview with Milan’s Emergency Volunteer Brigades

Interview conducted March 21, 2020.

1. How are you all? Are you managing to keep in touch virtually? Are you still managing to exist as a "group" or to keep to a "common position" despite the isolation?

We are fine. The situation here in Milan has been building into a crescendo. After February 23rd, there were weeks of uncertainty, during which there were contradictory orders from the government. During the first week the government closed some businesses, then they reopened them; later the awareness of the epidemic grew, and the more drastic measures were then applied. Now that everyone is pretty much isolated, although we are keeping in touch with each other frequently, it is more complicated to come up with common positions and to exist as a group. At the same time, various communication channels and types of reflection and action have opened up, yes. Some of us have focused more on the conditions in prisons, while others are engaged in translating or sharing thoughts. Some others converged in the local Solidarity Brigades, and others are looking for more contacts with comrades abroad to have a broader picture of the situation.

At the beginning everyone had their own perception of things; there were those who panicked and those who claimed that it was yet another way to instill fear in the population, since in any case politicians and medical experts seemed to espouse different opinions. From the governor of Lombardy, who published a selfie video locked in his house with a mask, to the mayor of Milan, who made a video entitled #milanononsiferma (#milanwillnotclose), in which he tries to show that the hyperproductive city would keep going; to virologists, who were insulting each other on various TV programs. Then the number of infected increased and the red zone was extended from Codogno (where the so-called “patient zero” was found) to the whole of Lombardy. People started to develop a different perception of risk: by that point, we all knew someone who had been infected. As I mentioned, nobody had really understood what was happening and we continued our everyday collective routines (collective football training, meetings, assemblies, and so on). From March 9th, the government took a unified national approach; the red zone was extended across the whole of Italy. Orders were given not to leave the house, unless you had a certificate provided by the authorities. The restrictions have been very strict: an evening curfew begins at 6pm is in place. Since then, all of Italy has been “online”.

Many initiatives were born, from tutorials about how to defend against COVID-19, to new radio and streaming sites, meetings (especially on Zoom) filled with people who often have never even met, some from all over the world. The absurdity of it is that we are experiencing a more conscious use of our devices. While before we perceived them as instruments of alienation and distraction, we now use them better as ways of sharing knowledge.

As for our group, we had been facing a period of great fragmentation. Ironically, the work of the brigades and the presence of a common but invisible enemy now involves everyone, since we are all touched by the same problem.

2. What is the situation in working-class neighbourhoods? How are the cops and the army behaving? In Milan, as we know, the police are generally very aggressive, but their attitude can change according to zone, acting civil enough and "teacherly" in more well-to-do neighbourhoods, and with the arrogant and violent "colonizing" approach in more working-class neighbourhoods.

The situation in the working-class districts of Milan changes depending on the area. In the densely-populated areas, filled with small and overcrowded houses, and mainly inhabited by foreigners, life continues to take place in the streets. Walking around in neighbourhoods like Giambellino or via Padova, you might see smaller food shops still open, creating spaces to meet for people who seem unconcerned with the directions issued by the authorities to stay at home. The police patrol the streets, but not in an overly dominating fashion, mostly trying to limit these numerous gatherings. The army was already present in some areas with an anti-terrorist function. Since the 23rd of March we've seen their number increasing and they have begun to patrol as public officials with the possibility of stopping and asking for documents or ID. It seems that for now, they don’t seem particularly comfortable in this role, showing a certain reluctance in being aggressive. In neighbourhoods where the presence of the police is usually regarded with hostility, the discouragement of gatherings and “dangerous” kinds of behaviour becomes difficult to put into practice.

Other working-class neighbourhoods on the outskirts, where people normally only go home to sleep, seem deserted. After the closing of the shops inside the shopping centres (the only places in these areas where social life takes place), life has died out, and everyone hides in their own apartments. In the last few days, media-induced fears of the dangers of walking and doing sports in parks have spread, with people looking out from their balconies and railing against neighbours who go out to take a walk in the yard, or even call the police.

And it’s obvious that the slogan #iorestoacasa (#Istayathome) is not considered relevant to everyone. Those who can afford to pay rent and have a job are locked in their homes, doing online shopping, while the rest of the population, either precarious or unemployed, working in logistics or infrastructure, experience a quite different situation. A very wide gap between the classes has opened. Confindustria (General Confederation of Italian Industry) forced workers to keep on working in factories without any health and safety precautions.

So in working-class neighbourhoods, many people are continuing to work. The increase of police and military in the streets is considerable but there isn’t a huge gap between neighborhoods: they are simply everywhere. We are seeing another phenomenon too, which is the becoming-policemen of normal citizens, which is perhaps stronger in bourgeois residential areas: there have been many episodes of people denouncing others to the police, or just people shouting “Go home!” to people walking in the street. Those who have been most affected by these severe measures have been homeless people and migrants.

3. How do the volunteer Brigades work? How do you handle the relationship between institutions (the state, local council, NGOs…)? How do you train those who participate? Where did the idea originate? How many people are involved? Are you trying to extend the idea to the whole of Italy?

The Brigades were born out of an idea that circulated as word of mouth on social media and it quickly became viral. The idea which came out of it is that we can obviously talk about who are responsible for all this, and they will have to pay the consequences, but in our current situation in which there is a diffuse sense of fear among people, we have to look out for the community, especially those of us who have experience with many different forms of organization, since we have learned in these years to manage with “extreme” situations, to act with courage, for the sake of everyone. We were inspired by several examples of mutual aid and organizations which worked throughout Italy after the earthquakes in the center of Italy (in the 2000s).

We understood pretty quickly that this situation was much larger than us, and that it wouldn’t be sufficient to do things autonomously or even on the national level, so that we would be vulnerable from multiple sides, especially vis-a-vis repression. If you’re found out of your house without any particular reason they can sanction you.

We looked for an organization that could give us the possibility of having an official status, and found Emergency, the humanitarian organization which provides aid in war situations and which has its offices in Milan. Through this we were able to construct an infrastructure which legitimates us and which mediates between us and the Milan local council. In the same way that we created the “Brigades” through our personal involvement, which began from social media and word-of-mouth, we also found individuals for each area to coordinate the groups. This structure has organized training sessions, first of all for the group leaders, who in turn started training the people in their own groups. The structure also allowed us to have passes in order to be able to move around the city freely. Currently we have more than 200 volunteers and many people on the waiting list to be trained and many others who continue to write saying that they would like to join. We are managing to cover all the 9 districts of Milan and the calls are increasing daily. In some areas we are connected to social centers or self-organized spaces which make up the base of the Brigades.

Our structures are being tested daily but it is still small and spread out, and we are being contacted by people from other parts of Italy who are beginning to organize themselves in the same way. Our goal is to create an infrastructure across the whole of Italy.

4. Can you update us on the situation in the prisons? Are there ways to stay in contact with people inside? (Here they gave a “bonus” of €40 for every inmate, which allow them to make more phone calls, and they gave free TV access to everyone, hoping in this way to placate unrest)

After the riots, and the deaths in prison, and the first case of Covid-19 in the Voghera prison, the “Cura Italia” (“Heal Italy”) decree established new orders on how to confront the pandemic in penitentiary institutions: house arrest and electronic tags for those serving less than 18 months; those under 6 months and minors are to be directly sent home, without tags.

Beyond this, it was established that those accused of having participated in the revolts of March 9th/10th will not be allowed to benefit from these alternative measures. Following the protests many sections were destroyed, and for this reason there has been a decrease of 2000 prison places, due to works that have to be carried out immediately.

News reached us (from allies and family members) of many reprisals in the Opera prison: the inmates report going hungry and fearing for themselves, they describe being denied TV, food, showers, phone calls; having only half an hour of air, and being beaten, hands and bones broken; “riot police entered the cells and beat us up in the dark”; the guards took away cooking materials and gave the inmates only water and cigarettes.

After the events of March many inmates were separated in order to put down the unrest; this was the case in Ferrara and Alessandria; 60 inmates in Melfi, 500 in Modena, 107 in Foggia, and 60 in Naples, were transported on a military boat belonging to the Italian navy to the correctional facility on the island of Procida; 650 from Poggioreale were separated and put into different jails in Brindisi, Messina, Bari, Lagonegro, Melfi, Potenza and Reggio Calabria.

Day after day the numbers of guards and inmates infected and testing positive increases.

At this link you can find the account of Nicoletta Dosio on the situation in the prison of Vallette in Turin here [in Italian].

5. Do you have any advice on how to manage – emotionally, psychologically – the fact of having to stay inside all the time? Here it is only the third day and many are still experiencing it almost as though it were a game. What are your reflections after ten days?

The first thing we believe is important is not to allow oneself to be infantilized, but to assume responsibility. Despite the state wanting the former, it is important to understand that this situation concerns us all, our loved ones, and the more vulnerable members of our society both on the social and physical level. Staying inside all the time with this awareness can really notably help our sense of self-discipline. Moreover, moments like these, which people who have experienced house arrests know well, are moments to keep oneself occupied to the utmost. It is almost redundant to say: study, train, reflect. In the end I maintain that it is important to treat it as a kind of “suspended time” when we can finally concentrate on our collective strategies (or the lack of these), also in the light of recent events, without the stress or the lack of time caused by the frenetic pace of our normal daily routines (work, militancy, etc.)

At first it seems like a game, especially for the many of us who have for a long time been trying to flee hyper-productivity. We have found ourselves obviously amused by the hysteria of people, who in the first hours became enraged at supermarkets and shops who sold face masks. Added to this is the sensation of living in an episode of Black Mirror – the streets are empty and the few people on the streets are walking around with masks on.

At first we passed the time reading, discovering things on the internet or having dinners restricted to a small number of friends, where obviously the main theme of discussion was the virus. Slowly as the days passed we began to understand the seriousness of what was happening: people are now all stuck at home and our contact with the outside world has been reduced to three or four people, which is, the people we were always in contact with. Further contact was avoided for good reason, and those with family over a certain age stopped all contact with others. For now, on the emotional and psychological level we keep struggling, perhaps because the Brigades give a practical sense to these days, and also because we are seeing the exasperating effects of the virus on capitalism: people fighting outside supermarkets in queues, or because social distancing is not being kept up, or other kinds of unrestrained egotism.

At this point the question has a global importance and we have the possibility to turn this into a potential and to grow the network we have been building for years, though, on the other hand, power also has this potential. It is not incidental that in these days we have been able to have virtual assemblies with comrades from many different places, where we have been able to discuss the experience of the Brigades.

The idea is that when our methods will have been tested a little we will also be able to go further than just helping out those who need it most. Maybe one day on the streets there will only be the brigades and the police and this could be an interesting scenario. We have to consider however that the state and global capitalism are using this moment as a kind of experiment on a massive scale and we cannot underestimate this; we have to remain attentive and to study the movements of power to try to understand what will happen afterwards. Perhaps certain things could enter into the daily lives of people, for example this question of sociality and work. The experiment that is happening is moving on different levels; from the repression of those who leave the house to “tele-working”, the many working from home. Schools are continuing to conduct courses online, thus in part people at home are being employed to “produce” in a new way.

Further, the virus, being immaterial and invisible, seems insurmountable and so it legitimates the state even more to project a voice that everyone necessarily listens to, keeping us all suspended since no one has any idea when this will end. There is an extreme pressure exerted upon individual responsibility so as to move away from all kind of social tension which might allow a realization of who the real people responsible for this are.

It’s a strange feeling leaving the house alone to go to the supermarket. Even if people don’t talk to one another, many people exchange complicit looks, since we all now have this in common, even if we’ve never known these people as friends, in the sense that they’ve never been this side of the barricade. This should make us reflect. We have to remain immersed in this situation and be strong in order to turn the situation in the right direction when the time comes.

6. Given that protests, demonstrations, and street presence are now impossible, what are ways of maintaining pressure on the authorities, in order to give voice to objections to the discourse that says “let’s save the economy at all costs”?

In this respect the most combative elements have been the militant unions such as SI COBAS (a small communist union operating on the national level), which are also the most directly involved given that, as we said, the majority of factories remain open undisturbed, in flagrant disregard of all the warnings to stay at home. So the voice of opposition has for now been principally represented by strikes, in which however, most of us don’t have the occasion to physically participate. The situation in prisons is different; groups of comrades are trying to get organised even if also here the difficulties are not at all few. After the first wave of protests in prisons, protests are continuing but they have been repressed with impunity, and the main task now is getting news out from inside, and to circulate it as much as possible.

We have to take account of people’s emotional reactions to what is happening, and acknowledge those people who have lost a relative or loved one to the virus. It’s difficult to imagine a movement exploding as yet, in this context. On top of this there is the fact that in Italy over the last years movements have suffered many setbacks and steps backward in terms of confronting power, and there is no united front, nor strong position from which to begin. Everything is very fragmented and so what we manage to bring forwards in struggle is a reflection of this pacification.

One practical example was the 8th of March – the global trans-feminist strike. Already being in the period of the quarantine we had to think what actions people could do. Hundreds of initiatives came about around the city; a new radio program, and many actions, from banners and posters, to writing, to whatever other form of protest which allowed people to feel involved. But nothing that meant direct conflict.

It’s moreover clear that contradictions have emerged; from one side the politicians who have made many gross errors, the public health system which is falling apart (as a result of the cuts over the last years), the fact of the middle class being at home, while delivery workers are in the streets delivering food, Confindustria deciding not to close down production and the larger unions which are playing around, the logistics workers who continue to work without any safety measures, the workers with unprotected faces who are risking their lives; on the other side, the campaign emphasizing individual responsibility of #iorestoacasa (#Istayathome) which is, of course, a way of concealing the truth of the situation.

Anger is coming to the surface, the autonomous unions have begun their strikes and are distributing provisions and masks to those in need, trying to impose a stop on production; the precarious workers have opened disputes in the hope of obtaining an income during the quarantine; and people are making appeals trying to stop online shopping because it puts those people who are making the deliveries at risk. The workers at the Amazon offices in Milan went on strike. As yet it hasn’t been possible to construct a strong position on how to give a positive sense to economic failure. 25 million unemployed people are expected once this is all over, and fear is high. For now it is very difficult but we think that with the work of the brigades it will be possible to construct a strong common position.

7. Have you noticed any new forms of solidarity among generations and in neighborhoods? What’s happening out of town? Do you have any updates from comrades in the countryside?

Our comrades living in the countryside describe a much quieter picture, free from the anxiety about contagion that one feels in the city. It’s easier for people to move around because controls are limited. You can buy food and any kind of “essentials” without difficulty, and farms that are still operating still receive the supplies they need. They’re dealing with labour shortages though.

8. Have there been moments of panic, people fleeing from big cities? Leaving Northern Italy to go south? (We had a huge flow of "bourgeois" migration here. Many people have left to be isolation in more comfortable conditions in their countryside or seaside holiday home – thus threatening remote areas, typically inhabited by the elderly, with the risk of contagion)

Yes, panic broke out on the evening of March 8th. A lot of people took trains from Milan and left Lombardy. All because of leaked news about the government's decision to isolate the region. Obviously, having hundreds of people crammed into a train certainly didn’t help prevent the virus from leaving Lombardy. Sure enough it had the opposite effect, leading to an increasingly higher number of infected people in Southern Italy in the following days. This kind of panic-induced internal migration continued for some days, with such intensity that some Southern regions decided to close their borders. At the beginning many people perceived the quarantine as a holiday, rushing towards ski slopes, beach resorts and second homes.

Yes, as I said, it has been a crescendo. In Northern Italy, for example, the start of quarantine took place when lots of people were on holidays, so many were stuck in the mountains or in their country houses. We witnessed great panic when the government decided to quarantine the whole of Lombardy – creating the so-called “red zone”. When the news came out, there was an exodus. Southern people who work or study in the North traveled back home en masse. This was a totally irresponsible thing to do, insofar as they risked bringing the virus to other areas, especially since young people can be healthy carriers with often no symptoms at all. The sheer selfishness of this gesture brought out all the counter-revolutionary power of the Italian family.

9. How does the contrast between the North and South feel now? Can we say that the tables have turned regarding the famous "Southern question"? Any thoughts?

This is not about the classic, even ironized, North-South opposition. The issue must be considered in relation to the different healthcare systems. Of course, we are not happy that the crisis broke out in the region where we live. Still, Lombardy is the richest region, with the best healthcare system in Italy and probably Europe (despite a succession of administrations cutting its budget). So we can be kind of relieved that it happened here. The Southern healthcare system has many more issues. Some problems are related to the staff, but the biggest issue is the inadequacy of infrastructure. A crisis like the one we’re having in the North would probably have brought the South to its knees.

In the last few days, the number of new patients in other regions – mostly Puglia and Campania, respectively South and Central Italy – has been increasing. We don’t really know how they’re facing the crisis (I mean, whether there is a network of mutual aid organizations and how they work), we’d need to ask people and healthcare personnel in those areas to get a better picture of it.

Some friends and relatives told us they’re very afraid, as though the epidemic had broken out there, as though Bergamo were a Southern city, so they respect the "safety" measures carefully. I don't think we can say the tables have turned on the "Southern question”. Many thought they could get away with leaving the North and going back home as soon as the lockdown was imposed – they proved to be very selfish and harmful to those who had a chance not to be as affected by the epidemic. Because of this grave error we risk having ten Codognos instead of one. People who left the red zones are likely to infect relatives in isolated areas.

There is still a great economic and social divide between the North and the South, we know that pretty well. In Sicily, in Calabria or in Basilicata, people are very aware that hospitals do not have adequate means and tools to face this kind of emergency. As long as people have to stay at home it will be impossible to discuss these issues – we’ll probably have to wait until everything is over.

The North is the new South! Or not. Originally, the North of Italy (great center of production on an international scale) was floored by the epidemic and showed its weaknesses. It became the laughingstock of countries all around the world – nobody accepted tourists or travelers from Northern Italy. A great blow that hurt the pride of the colonizers, who had always been free to roam around the world. For once they found themselves on the ‘not welcome’ list. Obviously the North-South relationship in Italy has changed and become an object of humor. But what is actually very worrying is that the healthcare system in Lombardy, which is despite all one the most efficient in the country, is collapsing. So if the virus were to reach the South, the situation would be truly dramatic.

10. What is the general feeling about what the government is doing? Is it considered partly responsible for the situation, or are its efforts to face the crisis appreciated?

For what our perceptions are worth, the government is generally receiving good support from the people. Prime Minister Conte is considered a wise politician, and the fact that Italy acted immediately and firmly made people forget many doubts they had at the beginning. In fact, until the first weeks of March, most Northern politicians were pressured by business leaders into keeping the borders open and letting Milan run at full capacity. Moreover, the government has taken strong measures concerning healthcare and movement of goods and people, but gave in to the pressure of Confindustria. So big cities are under great restrictions, whereas in the rest of the region industries and businesses, even the non-essential ones, continue their activities adopting only laughable safety measures. No decision has been made on the issue of overcrowded prisons, despite many judges and courts asking for new policies. But people have become more aware of the situation – the current climate of emergency makes everyone more sensitive, even past the issue of hospital capacity. The stern but inspiring campaigns in favor of prisoners have moved many people as well. We should consider in this respect the old nationalist cliché about Italians selflessly coming together during hard times to fight for the community, which has resurfaced in this situation. “Sovereignist” leaders like Salvini and Meloni, surprisingly, are at the moment managing to act under the radar. Their beloved game of finding someone else to blame for every single problem and identifying an enemy cannot be played so easily in times when there are these appeals to unity, so they’re clutching at straws. The feeling is that they’re preparing for the aftermath, when the emergency will be over and we’ll have to rebuild everything from the ground up.

As I said, the situation is controversial. At first the government made some incredible mistakes, and revealed that it wasn’t able to respond to this emergency adequately. We’ve seen this in every crisis that affected the country in the last decades, from the earthquakes in central Italy to the collapse of the Morandi bridge in Genoa. There are many issues we have to deal with, most importantly budget cuts to the healthcare system and the lack of protections for logistics workers. We are talking about people dying here not because they are crushed by a crane, but because they are attacked by a virus, which actually affects everyone without distinction. People are therefore intensely focused on the issue but are “waiting for instructions from above".

Many political collectives have highlighted the link between the capitalist system and the virus, and how it is transmitted. But for the time being, unfortunately, this is all talk, with a kind of academic character, especially given that we can’t even leave our homes.

11. How are people reacting to the plans for generalized digital surveillance (as already implemented in Israel or Iran)? Is it perceived as a "necessary evil"? Are there any ideas to counter these policies? Is the issue being addressed or is the health crisis preventing it?

So far it is not being addressed that much, certainly not at the level of general public opinion. As far as activist groups are concerned, it’s a bit complicated because the debate is now quite mixed up. From the beginning, philosopher Giorgio Agamben focused on the measures relating to the “state of exception”, and their possible consequences. Maybe he did so with a certain smugness and without caring too much about being understood correctly, so he was accused of minimizing the health crisis. The result is that now most of the comrades have slipped into a somewhat sterile debate between supporters and critics of the imposition of the state of exception. The critics accuse the supporters of being too abstract in front of real emergencies such as safety conditions in factories or prisons. As a result, it’s not easy to focus on the whole picture and avoid ideological squabbles.

We can talk about what has been happening in the last weeks. On March 19th, AgCom (national regulatory authorities for Italian communication industries) issued a press release asking social networks like Youtube, Facebook and Twitter to remove videos reporting false information or information from unreliable sources. It is the first time in Italy since 1948 that some fundamental freedoms, such as the freedom of movement, of assembly, and of expression, have been suspended. We will witness the effects of this measure in the upcoming days. The risk is that, the state taking advantage of an "emergency" situation, we could emerge from the catastrophe in much worse cultural conditions than when we entered it.

Personally, I’m very worried about this question. Many people are working from home and online 24/7, and are wondering about the future of our society. We fear that our movements will be GPS-tracked to check who is respecting the quarantine and who is not. On the other hand, many people see this situation as a positive change for the environment – since traffic has slowed, we experienced a significant decrease in air pollution, which is a major issue in Milan. So many now believe that this could also solve other problems. For the time being we need our devices to remain connected, but this situation will certainly have a significant impact on our lives.

12. What’s the general opinion on how other countries are approaching the situation? Were people angry at the thoughtlessness of countries still untouched by the pandemic?

Surely one of the most widespread feelings is disbelief and amazement. Italy had watched from afar the Chinese government dealing with the pandemic, a country that seems far away but is of course not so distant in our globalized world. However, we can’t understand how it is possible that European countries did not act as soon as they sensed what was happening in Italy. The example was there, before everyone's eyes, even sometimes just a few kilometers away. This highlights once again the inadequacy of our leaders as well as our lack of preparation, awareness and independent sources of information.

Anti-European and Eurosceptic feelings are as always resurfacing. Some see the EU as a mindless bloodsucker that refuses to support Italy during this emergency. The best thing is probably the general discredit that people like Trump or Boris Johnson are suffering. In the midst of the crisis, their bullshit now sounds dangerous and crazy even to those who previously admired them as strong and charismatic leaders.

This is significant. We were very angry at first, when we couldn't understand why they kept the information about when the virus first appeared concealed. Many people were disappointed in how Germany and England responded to this emergency. There’s also fear that if the pandemic breaks out in a serious way in the US, a huge number of people will die as a result of the private healthcare system. The only positive news we saw was that Bolsonaro came into contact with someone infected with Covid-19. That could save many more lives! However, at the moment, attention remains focused on our country, with 900 deaths per day and new outbreaks.

13. Can you imagine things on a longer scale? Do you think it’s possible to predict how things will be in the longer term? It almost seems like there will be no return to normality. What do you think will happen in the next few months?

It's hard to say. It’s very difficult to make predictions while all these different newspapers and media throw news at us. It’s hard to reflect while isolated. Everyone knows that the more you stay at home, the less fresh air gets to your head. One day we experience pessimism and the next day hope, or at least you see new chances for some unexpected turn of events. Surely the months to come will be harder and harder. We’ll have to be ready to go out again and see how this situation has changed things. But how they will have changed, as I said, is impossible for us to know.

It's hard to imagine what will happen now because we don't know how long the lockdown will last. The whole world will change for sure. It's also difficult to express “cynical” or critical ideas as many people are very sensitive about the pandemic. Some issues will be affected – the Mediterranean geopolitical scenario, Italy’s alliance with China for the new ‘silk road’ in Africa, the war in Syria that brings millions of migrants to Europe. It is no coincidence that borders are now closed all over the world, this seems to us as well to be a form of experimentation. 10 years ago we were studying the NATO Urban Operations in the Year 2020 report, and now here we are.

An interesting scenario could open up for us. We spent years traveling the world to build networks wherever people tried to confront the government, often getting in trouble with local authorities. Now we are experiencing a worldwide scenario that unites us all, especially in the West. We have the opportunity to create a common model that can apply to many places in the world. Once the emergency is over, that can legitimize us to speak up against those who have created these problems. For the time being, we can’t say what our next steps will be. We know that some activist groups from all over the country are planning to mobilize, inspired by the Volunteer Brigades. In order to create a common trajectory, we will need to connect with this broader viewpoint.

#COVID19 #Italy #solidarity brigades #mutual aid

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gellavonhamster · 4 years

Text

good people

gen || Montgomery Montgomery & Bertrand Baudelaire || pre-canon

ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus

Monty Montgomery learned about the deaths of Count and Countess *** somewhere about two in the afternoon, in the lobby of the Biology Faculty of Gerald Durrell University of Natural Science. He didn’t know them personally, and that day he could not even recall their faces when reading an article about their deaths, just as many years later he could not – unfortunately – recall the face of their son, whom he did know personally back in the day and had met as often as not. At the same time, he could remember in detail the moment he heard they were dead – the hum of voices in the vast corridors of the faculty building, sunlight glistening on glass in the frames of photographs and newspaper clippings hanging on the walls, the sound of his own footsteps. He was descending the stairs, almost hopping like a kid because he had just managed to talk a teacher into letting him submit the report a day later, and consequently was in a splendid mood. Few things can compete with the joy that a student experiences when the deadline for a paper that still exists only as a title page gets postponed for a later date. Immersed in happy thoughts, he went down to the ground floor, and was just heading for the exit when he suddenly saw a crowd of students and teachers huddled together and discussing something animatedly. One of the students was holding a widely unfolded newspaper, and several people at once were reading something over his shoulder.

“Must be a change of government or something,” Monty thought as he approached them. Frankly, the prospect of writing a paper in two days concerned him much more at that time than a hypothetical coup.

“Ah, Montgomery!” shouted one of those reading the paper, Professor Stein of the Herpetology Department. Stein was always shouting: he had hearing problems. Now, on the other hand, a raised voice was more than appropriate, for too many people were talking at once.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” Monty gave him a nod of greeting as he joined the group. Getting closer to the paper was impossible – the crowd was too thick. “What’s the news?”

“A murder, Montgomery! A crime story at its finest; the whole city is going insane! Come read.” At that, Professor grabbed him by the elbow and pushed him into the middle of the crowd, so that Monty found himself right behind the left shoulder of the guy with the newspaper.

He took a look at the page, found the piece everyone was reading, and grew cold.

“Poison darts! With snake venom!” Stein exclaimed. Monty winced as if in pain. The loud noises around him were distracting; he wanted to read carefully, turn each word round in his head, persuade himself it was not what he thought it was. Coincidences do happen sometimes, after all. “And where – at the opera! Right during the performance!”

“Yeah,” someone to the right of the newspaper chimed in, “straight out of Gaston Leroy.”

“Leroux,” Monty corrected mechanically. He was suddenly overcome with fierce and helpless anger. He stepped back. “I’m sorry, Professor, I really have to go.”

Walking quickly, even quicker than back when he was urged on by the unwritten report, he headed for the door.

Well then, La Forza del Destino. Poison darts. Snake venom.

And his flatmate, who went to the opera yesterday and didn’t come back home.

***

Bertrand asked him to procure the venom about a week ago.

It might have been Thursday, or maybe Friday. Monty was writing a term paper then, one that he could not set about writing earlier because he was busy doing other things, from the tasks assigned to him by VFD to attending the parties organized by other volunteers, which in some cases seemed as important to him, even vital at times. VFD gave him time to deal with the exam period, relieving him from participation in any missions for the nearest future – the pursuance of science was highly valued among their ranks. Many volunteers flaunted some academic degrees, but not many of them got those degrees officially, even if they deserved them objectively. Some Doctors and Masters among them didn’t even hold a certificate of Bachelor’s Degree. Fighting the fires, both literal and figurative, took up a lot of time and energy, leaving virtually none of it for attending the lectures or even distance education. However, the VFD members had connections – Had Connections even, capitalized – owing to which many of them got the opportunity to call themselves professors or academicians, although all their scientific contributions, sometimes absolutely groundbreaking, remained hidden from the general public.

At the Biology Faculty, VFD Had some Connections as well, and if Monty wished so, he probably could obtain the Master’s or even Doctor’s Degree without much effort, but he had no such wish. He desired recognition and respect from the people outside the organization, desired to make discoveries that he could tell the whole world about – desired for everything to be fair. That was why he had spent the whole previous week in a kind of a time loop. Every day looked like the day before: writing, writing, writing, leafing through the sources frenziedly after another bookmark gets lost, sorting the materials collected in the expedition, drinking gallons of coffee, and occasionally sleeping. And feeding Maturin, of course. As to Monty himself, it was Bertrand who had been feeding him, which was very kind of him, because Monty couldn’t even afford the time to heat some ready-to-cook foods. Bertrand simply used to come into his room, not even knocking anymore so that not to distract him, put a plate of vegetable couscous or spaghetti bolognese or something in front of him, and leave before Monty noticed that plate. The dirty dishes he used to take away in the same manner, unnoticed. Monty had to yell “Thank you!” for the whole house to hear, to which Bertrand yelled back “You owe me!” from his room or from the kitchen. He was joking, and Monty knew that, but still planned at least to stand treat at the pub after the exams were over.

That morning, Bertrand knocked on the door again – first came in, then knocked. That meant he needed Monty to pay attention to him.

“Hello, hello, hello!” Monty exclaimed, turning on the chair, immediately knocked one his books off the table, and bent to pick it up. “I am listening to you attentively, o dearest neighbour.”

“You’re going to the uni tomorrow, aren’t you?” Bertrand asked.

Monty nodded. “Yeah, to submit this Frankenstein’s monster. Only the bibliography left to do.”

“You’re a hero,” Bertrand praised him. Monty thought so too, in all honesty. “Could you do something for me while you’re at it?”

“Buddy, I would’ve wasted away without you here over the last few days. What exactly do you need?”

“I need,” Bertrand felt for something in the pocket of his trousers, took out some scrap of paper, and gave it to Monty, “a vial of venom of this snake.”

Monty’s heart lurched. He skimmed the note.

“Oh,” he said. “No problem. There are a couple of excellent specimens of this species at the City Herpetological Centre.”

“I know,” Bertrand replied. “I thought of asking N or S, but I don’t know them well. I wouldn’t like to shoot my mouth off in front of the people I do not trust completely,” he sat down on the edge of Monty’s bed. “Not these days.”

Monty noticed that Bertrand was trying not to meet his eyes.

“I see. Tomorrow it’ll be done.”

“Thank you,” Bertrand smiled slightly, still not looking at Monty. Instead, he was looking at Maturin, the turtle, which was chewing on a salad leaf in its terrarium. The turtle was undoubtedly remarkable, but it wasn’t hard to see that Bertrand was rather looking through it than at it. Sooner or later that was bound to happen, Monty thought. Sooner or later, each volunteer had to do something… like that. Not necessarily related to deathly poisons and what very logically results from their use, but still something that made it difficult to look one’s friends in the eye. Like it was now difficult for Bertrand.

“Who?” Monty asked in a hushed voice. “I’m not asking about the name, I’m asking if you know that person. Or were you just given a description?”

“A description,” Bertrand echoed. He smiled again, wider and brighter, but still somewhat stiffly. “Don’t worry about me. I am not a child, I’ll handle this.”

***

“And so he did,” Monty thought as he was unlocking the door to his flat.

Bertrand was already home; there was no need to call their acquaintances or go to Kit’s place. When Monty entered, his flatmate was sitting at the kitchen table and rubbing his knuckles on one hand with the thumb of the other. His face was calm, without any trace of either tears or smile. It reminded Monty of the kind of “Closed” sign that people put on the shop doors on Sundays.

“There you are,” Monty said, peeking into the kitchen. Bertrand gave a start and looked at him.

“Hi,” he said, and offered Monty a faint smile. It didn’t look too convincing. “How did the report thing go?”

“They let me submit it later,” Monty told him. He didn’t know how to ask Bertrand about what was really vexing him, so he asked another question that was, in his opinion, appropriate in any situation. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Monty went into the kitchen, took the teapot off the stove, shook it and made sure it was empty, filled it with water, ignited the burner, put the teapot on the stove. Having been in a hurry to check if Bertrand was home, he didn’t have time to take his shoes off, and was now stamping around the kitchen in outdoor shoes. “Gotta sweep the floor later,” he noted to himself. It came with experience – the skill of not forgetting about the dull everyday things like cleaning and cooking while your entire world was in a whirl and threatening to fall apart.

“I saw the article in the newspaper,” he began as he took teacups from the dish drainer. Bertrand was still sitting at the table in silence, still rubbing his hands absentmindedly. “About the opera.”

“Yeah, I’ve already read it, too.”

“You lied when you told me you didn’t know who the target was, didn’t you? When you asked me to get you the venom.”

“I did,” Bertrand agreed. He leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t hard to see by his eyes that he hadn’t caught even a minute of sleep last night. “Do we have any lemons for tea?”

“Um?.. I think there must be some. Check the fridge. Why did you lie?”

“You had enough problems of your own. And you still do. I didn’t want you to worry about me as well,” Bertrand got up from the table, walked up to the fridge, and took out a bowl containing half a lemon. Having taken a knife and a board, he started cutting the lemon into very neat identical pieces. Everything Bertrand did was neat.

“Yeah, you can want whatever you like,” Monty muttered. The teapot was still taking its time to boil, and just standing empty-handed and discussing the murder committed by his neighbour was unbearable, so he took a cloth and started cleaning the sink aggressively. That was not the first time he procured poisons required by other volunteers. Perhaps he hadn’t killed anyone himself – yet – but he suspected that in a sense he already was partially responsible for a number of deaths. It was scary, it was weighing down on him, it kept him up at night and made him drink and dance and party with a vengeance in the hope of forgetting himself – but that was him, and when it came to Bertrand, it was a hundred times more of a shame. Bertrand was a good person. Bertrand didn’t deserve to be turned into a murderer. Monty was hoping he could express that all in such a way as not to make it seem like his heart is aching not so much for his friend as for his own hurt feelings, but the right words just wouldn’t come.

“You are one of the best people I know,” he finally began. Bertrand made a strange sound, something between a laugh and a sob. Monty turned and saw that he had already cut the leftover lemon and was now standing with an absent look on his face, clutching the knife. “Don’t hold the knife with the edge toward you. Fucking hell, B,” he raised his voice when Bertrand didn’t react. “Don’t hold the knife with the edge toward you, and put it down anyway!”

The knife fell on the table with a thud. Bertrand closed his eyes, leaned on the tabletop with both hands, and lowered his head so that Monty couldn’t get a good look at his countenance.

“I keep remembering that he hit O several times when boozed up, back when O was a boy,” he spoke quietly. “He used to drink, you know – not every day, but he used to go on drinking sprees from time to time. O’s taking after him in that respect. I keep thinking back on it as if it makes an excuse for me, but it really doesn’t, you see? And she was innocent – I mean, the rational part of me gets that she wasn’t, I know who she and her husband used to finance and what they used to cover up, but all I can remember is that she was usually nice to O, and to B after she moved to the City too.” Now his voice was taut, his face burning with indignation, his former numbness gone without a trace. “How come this task was assigned to B, of all people? After they had basically accepted her as family?”

Monty knew, personally and by repute, several Bs among their associates, but this time Bertrand didn’t have to specify who he was talking about.

“I am angry they made you do this, you are angry they made her…”

“Because she didn’t deserve this,” Bertrand interrupted him. “Because she’s a good person.”

Monty realized that Bertrand was basically repeating word for word what he had been reflecting on earlier himself, and smiled sadly.

“How willing we are to assure the others vehemently that they are good people,” he spoke. He was completely in agreement with Bertrand about Beatrice. She was not just fun, but also reliable, which was much more important. She looked after her own. She was vivid and loud and incredibly brave and incredibly loving, and Bertrand was right: she did not deserve this. “And never as willing to defend ourselves the same way. Perhaps that is where our hope lies? In our inability to turn a blind eye to our own faults?”

Bertrand took off his glasses, inelegantly wiped off the tears that had broken out after all, and put the glasses on again.

“Monty,” he said gently, “you’re a good person too, you know that?”

Monty blinked, then blinked again, feeling that soon he might have to wipe off the tears too. Bertrand was one of the best people Monty knew, and he didn’t deserve to be turned into a murderer, and didn’t deserve to labour under such grave delusion about other people either – but the fact that someone still considered him a good person gave Monty confidence that despite all his wrongdoings, he still wasn’t a lost cause.

He reached out and ruffled Bertrand’s hair.

“Sit down,” he told him. “The tea’s about to be ready.”

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #uncle monty #montgomery montgomery #bertrand baudelaire #snicketverse #not completely satisfied w/ this one but i like some bits so let it be here #yes the name of the turtle is a reference to stephen king's it #iirc they reference danny the champion of the world as early as atwq and it was published in the 70s #and time is a construct anyway (especially in the snicketverse) so i couldn't resist #talk talk talk #gella talks snicketverse #my fic

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areallyshittywriter · 3 years

Text

Death Certificate

It was bright and cold. The sky wavered a dark mystic blue, with children of grinning stars shining brightly in its darkness. The wind was carrying newborn snow to the parents below, but never once ever howling in complaint. It had not a hint of human impurity, not even a breath in the sky. It was simply heavenly.

This only lasted of course, until a scruffy, thin, senile man scorched the soundless peace, with his ragged breaths and limping strides. Every wisp of his grumpy mumbling, creating a vivid cut in the air. Every inconsistent grunt felt like a lobotomy with a sharp ended stick. And every sight I took of him being a waste of a memory and a waste of time. He took his time, dragging himself from the misty abyss of the forest.

I could feel the length of my finger begin to tap mercilessly against the dark crusted parasol. Silver rusted flakes were cracking and falling against the snow, bringing another wave of heat to reverberate along my crooked bones.

“Would you please hurry up? It takes time for nature to clean up the contamination you’re polluting,” an evident coldness, leaked from my lips.

It took the goat a further 357 seconds before he finally reached a metre apart from me. Even then, I still took a step back from him; “How strange it is, that your filthy race has managed to charge straight through nature’s innocence, and still it took you 23 minutes to climb a measly slanted hill.”

Only a gruff was his response. His gaze never reached my own; the only pleasing thing about this occasion.

“To think this would be added to an eternal list of failures, Eric Blair. Or would you prefer I call you George Orwell?” Malice and stillness were left in my words.

The man froze silent. Even his deeds and actions cannot be concealed to my omniscient species. It is vital to know everything when coming to a conclusive judgement. Actions will reveal intent. Intent creates judgement. Simple.

“Tell me, George; why did you keep your books to yourself for all these years? Surely, someone would’ve read them?”

He took a deep breath and sighed, wiping the icy sweat from his rotting hands.

His croak, weak against the wind, “they would never be goin’ anywhere. The books. They were only an out, from this godforsaken world.”

How, ironic.

“Hmm, well let’s continue this discussion. The snow can only fall for so long before it touches the ground.” I began reading,

Death Certificate

Eric Arthur Blair

Date: June 8th1984

This is to certify that the records in my office show that Mr Blair,

Died at 7:30am on 8th Day of June 1984

That day was the official declaration of Stalin’s kingship over the world. No government had managed to prevent his dictatorship, nor any future ones. With the books kindled in fire, no one will ever achieve the ability of intellect, to fight his ruling. I could feel the second wave of heat roll over me as my tapping commenced again.

“That was a Friday. It seems you couldn’t even make it to the weekend.” There was no cover of the harshness in my voice. And still, the geezer ignored my comments and continued his sadistic stroll. I continued;

Gender: Male

Age: 47

Cause of Death:

“Oh that'll be interesting”

Injuries. This includes the carving and removal of the corpus unguis, cutting needles puncturing the retina and internal ear area and repeated fisted blows to the frontal lobe. Ultimately, created breakage in the cranium, acute deafness and blindness in the left eye, thus resulting in death.

There wasn’t an ounce of surprise within his eyes, let alone soul. How disappointing. Fortunately, though, I am aware of everything that occurred after the death. And I must say, it was absolutely barbarous; lucky me.

“My oh my, it seems we’ve forgotten a few very crucial and interesting details, my dear Eric.”

The decaying goof discarded my comment and continued his striding destruction of baby snow. Even so, I’ve learnt how to pull the shakiness and tears from any pathetic human soul, so I continued my unsparing talk;

“The certificate has seemingly never stated what happened after your death! What a shame, since you never got to find out. Well, I guess I could always do a small favour and simply just add it in, can’t I?”

After death, the corpse was then taken to a guillotine to have the head sliced from the lower body.

“Well, it stills seems quite connected to me”

The corpse was then dowsed in octane and was set ablaze with phosphorous sulphide.

The corpse was burnt to a point of unrecognition along with a wide collection of books.

Finally, I got him.

His treachery upon the land had seized, along with his mumbles and grunts. His burnt brown eyes were glazed in a fear so indescribably amazing, that I couldn’t help myself but grin.

There is a rule amongst my kind that we could never take pleasure in the sufferings of tyrannical beasts. However, knowing how fully capable this monster had in completely altering reality, just with a single stroke of a pen, was collapsing in the chains of fear. Well, I couldn’t help the laughter that overtook me. Especially when his lifeless grasp went to touch the very place his own kind, own friends tried to cut from him.

Although, he simply closed his eyes, took a deep breath and continued walking. As if it didn’t matter to him. Disturbing. Even after death, he can continue to accept his pitiful existence. Monotonous, I finished the last disastrous parts of the certificate.

Occupation(s):

Author, Novelist, Current Affairs Writer, Bookseller, Screenwriter, Literary Critic, Poet, Essayist

Marital Status:

Married to Eileen O’Shaughnessy

Witness:

Joseph Stalin, Nadezhda Alliluyeva, Kato Svanidze, Winston Smith, Emmanuel Goldstein, Keke Geladze,….

“…basically, the entirety of Russia”.

It was here where I finally halted. The certificate was finished, and his final moments were known to him. That is the job I own; to bring the knowledge of the final moments of the deceased to light, and to make a judgement.

Eric Blair is a special exception, however. There’s a peculiar complication of his intentions about his books. Although, a verbal recognition intent has never concerned me. Actions will always reveal intent.

Eric had turned quietly to meet my gaze.

His voice was cutting and yet somewhat like a cold croak, “I guess this is the end then”

Well, to a usual one of my species, he would be right. However, “No, it isn’t”.

His eyes were sinking heavy and an abyss of mist swirled amongst the forest. My final torment would have to be quick.

“Mr Blair I’m afraid I have never informed you of what my species is”

Callous, he spoke, “I already know. Your somethin’ like death, or like a Grim Reaper”

“Yes, I guess in a sense. Except my species can do something yours still tries to grasp an understanding of. You see we reap the lives of not just your people, but people in other timelines as well.”

The mist began to crawl and cling to edges of brown-skinned boots. Grasping and rising like the dead gripping to their mortality. Time was dwindling.

“I hope you understand well when I say that there is a reality where you actually published your books. And those very same books could’ve prevented the creation of your timeline.”

A living and breathing boil was breaking from its cavity within me. Glazing my cool bones in shakiness and heat, blistering an irritation that rivalled natures quakes. The gruelling fog began its pace, growing and falling in rhythmic tides, encircling its victim within. However, that never pulled away the attention of the monster from me. His eyes were locked and wet, awaiting his sentence.

“To put it simply,…”

Finally.

“You are the reason that civilisation crumbled. You kept your revolutionary words tucked away, like children. And just like that, you had allowed Stalin to rule a world, that’s unrulable. You caused the destruction of your timeline…”

The white cool mist began to mature into a black swirl of darkness, gradually picking up speed as enclosed the monster into a tight ring. His mudded wet eyes wandered in circles, as he inevitably realised his end was soon. Even so, the beastly Blair had grasped every drop of my bloodless confrontations;

“..All because you were simply too weak, too afraid to have any remote strength. You clung lonely to your books. You hid them from the world. You took knowledge from what could’ve saved the very few innocent people living. You are what all the demons in hell revere.”

The mist was cold and dark, raging like a wildfire around the decaying skin of Blair. Shapes of burnt cracked skinned hands clung to his arms and dragged him into the pulsating heart of darkness. Dragging him into the cold clutches of demons and villains below, where nature will never come to free him from the depths of his sins.

“And that is my judgement”.

So you’ve read my horrible writing. Congrats. It’s only going to get shitter from here. Please give some feedback tho

#1984 #george orwell #alternative reality #writing #shit #school is going to be the death of me #shitty hashtag

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blackkudos · 4 years

Text

Eazy-E

Eric Lynn Wright (September 7, 1964 – March 26, 1995), known professionally as Eazy-E, was an American rapper and rap mogul who propelled West Coast rap and gangsta rap by leading the group N.W.A and its label, Ruthless Records, pushing the boundaries of lyrical content.

Born and raised in Compton, a small yet violent city near Los Angeles, Wright had several legal troubles before founding Ruthless in 1987. After a short solo career with frequent collaboration with Ice Cube and Dr. Dre, they joined, forming N.W.A, later that year.

N.W.A's debut studio album, Straight Outta Compton, released in 1988, highly controversial then, is now ranked among the greatest and most influential albums. The group released its third and final studio album, Niggaz4Life, in 1991, and soon disbanded.

During N.W.A's splintering, largely by disputes over money, Eazy-E became embroiled in bitter rivalries with Ice Cube and Dr. Dre, who had departed for solo careers in 1989 and 1991, respectively. Resuming his sole career, Eazy-E released two EPs.

Yet Wright remained more significant behind the scenes, signing and nationally debuting the rap group Bone Thugs-N-Harmony from 1993 to 1994. But in 1995, suddenly hospitalized and diagnosed with AIDS, Wright died through its complications.

Early life and Ruthless Records investment

Eric Wright was born to Richard and Kathie Wright on September 7, 1964, in Compton, California, a Los Angeles suburb noted for high crime rates and gang culture. His father was a postal worker and his mother was a grade-school administrator. Wright dropped out of high school in the tenth grade, but later received a general equivalency diploma (GED).

Wright supported himself mainly by selling drugs, and introduced his cousin to the illicit occupation. Wright's music manager Jerry Heller recalls seeing Wright selling marijuana, but not cocaine. Heller would claim that Wright's "dope dealer" label was part of his "self-forged armor". Wright was also labeled as a "thug". Heller explains: "The hood where he grew up was a dangerous place. He was a small guy. 'Thug' was a role that was widely understood on the street; it gave you a certain level of protection in the sense that people hesitated to fuck with you. Likewise, 'dope dealer' was a role that accorded you certain privileges and respect."

In 1986, at age 22, Wright had allegedly earned as much as US$250,000 from dealing drugs. However, after his cousin was shot and killed, he decided that he could make a better living in the Los Angeles hip hop scene, which was growing rapidly in popularity. He started recording songs during the mid-1980s in his parents' garage.

The original idea for Ruthless Records came when Wright asked Heller to go into business with him. Wright suggested a half-ownership company, but it was later decided that Wright would get eighty percent of the company's income and Heller would only get twenty percent. According to Heller, he told Wright, "Every dollar comes into Ruthless, I take twenty cents. That's industry standard for a manager of my caliber. I take twenty, you take eighty percent. I am responsible for my expenses and you're responsible for yours. You own the company. I work for you." Along with Heller, Wright invested much of his money into Ruthless Records. Heller claims that he invested the first $250,000 and would eventually put up to $1,000,000 into the company.

Musical career

N.W.A and Eazy-Duz-It (1986–1991)

N.W.A's original lineup consisted of Arabian Prince, Dr. Dre, Eazy-E, and Ice Cube. DJ Yella and MC Ren joined later. The compilation album N.W.A. and the Posse was released on November 6, 1987, and would go on to be certified Gold in the United States. The album featured material previously released as singles on the Macola Records label, which was responsible for distributing the releases by N.W.A and other artists like the Fila Fresh Crew, a West Coast rap group originally based in Dallas, Texas.

Eazy-E's debut album, Eazy-Duz-It, was released on September 16, 1988, and featured twelve tracks. It was labeled as West Coast hip hop, gangsta rap and, later, as golden age hip hop. It has sold over 2.5 million copies in the United States and reached number forty-one on the Billboard 200. The album was produced by Dr. Dre and DJ Yella and largely written by MC Ren, Ice Cube and The D.O.C.. Both Glen Boyd from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer and MTV's Jon Wiederhorn claimed that Eazy-Duz-It "paved the way" for N.W.A's most controversial album, Straight Outta Compton. Wright's only solo in the album was a remix of the song "8 Ball", which originally appeared on N.W.A. and the Posse. The album featured Wright's writing and performing; he performed on seven songs and helped write four songs.

Ice Cube left N.W.A in 1989 because of internal disputes and the group continued as a four-piece ensemble. N.W.A released 100 Miles and Runnin' in 1990 and Niggaz4Life in 1991. A diss war started between N.W.A and Ice Cube when "100 Miles and Runnin'" and "Real Niggaz" were released. Ice Cube responded with "No Vaseline" on Death Certificate. Wright performed on seven of the eighteen songs on Niggaz4Life. In March 1991 Wright accepted an invitation to a lunch benefiting the Republican Senatorial Inner Circle, hosted by then-U.S. President George H. W. Bush. A spokesman for the rapper said that Eazy-E supported Bush because of his performance in the Persian Gulf War.

End of N.W.A and feud with Dr. Dre (1991–1994)

N.W.A began to split up after Jerry Heller became the band's manager. Dr. Dre recalls: "The split came when Jerry Heller got involved. He played the divide and conquer game. Instead of taking care of everybody, he picked one nigga to take care of and that was Eazy. And Eazy was like, 'I'm taken care of, so fuck it'." Dr. Dre and The D.O.C. sent Suge Knight to look into Eazy-E's financial situation as they began to grow suspicious of Eazy-E and Jerry Heller. Dr. Dre and The D.O.C. asked Eazy-E to release him from Ruthless, but Eazy-E refused. The impasse led to what reportedly transpired between Suge Knight and Eazy-E at the recording studio where Niggaz4life was recorded. After he refused to release Dr. Dre and The D.O.C., Suge Knight told Eazy-E that he had kidnapped Jerry Heller and was holding him prisoner in a van. This did not convince Eazy-E to release Dr. Dre and The D.O.C. from Ruthless, and Suge Knight threatened Eazy-E's family: Suge Knight gave Eazy-E a piece of paper that contained Eazy's mother's address, telling him, "I know where your mama stays." Eazy-E finally signed Dr. Dre and The D.O.C.'s releases, officially ending N.W.A.

The feud with Dr. Dre continued after a track on Dre's debut album The Chronic, "Fuck wit Dre Day (And Everybody's Celebratin')", contained lyrics that insulted Eazy-E. Eazy responded with the EP, It's On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa, featuring the tracks "Real Muthaphuckkin G's" and "It's On". The album, which was released on October 25, 1993, contains pictures of Dre wearing "lacy outfits and makeup" when he was a member of the Electro-hop World Class Wreckin' Cru.

Personal life

Wright had a son, Eric Darnell Wright (known as Lil Eazy-E), in 1984. He also had a daughter named Erin who has legally changed her name to Ebie In October 2016 she launched a crowd-funding campaign to produce a film called Ruthless Scandal: No More Lies to investigate her father's death. It ended unsuccessfully in December 2016.

Wright met Tomica Woods at a Los Angeles nightclub in 1991 and they married in 1995, twelve days before his death. They had a son named Dominick and a daughter named Daijah (born six months after Wright's death). After Wright's death, Ruthless was taken over by his wife. According to Jerry Heller, Wright had 11 children with eight different women.

Illness and death

On February 24, 1995, Wright was admitted to the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles with a violent cough. He was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS. He announced his illness in a public statement on March 16, 1995. It is believed Wright contracted the infection from a sexual partner.During the week of March 20, having already made amends with Ice Cube, he drafted a final message to his fans. On March 26, 1995, Eazy-E died from complications of AIDS, one month after his diagnosis. He was 30 years old (most reports at the time said he was 31 due to the falsification of his date of birth by one year). He was buried on April 7, 1995, at Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whittier, California. Over 3,000 people attended his funeral, including Jerry Heller and DJ Yella. He was buried in a gold casket, and was dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans, and his Compton hat. On January 30, 1996, ten months after Eazy-E's death, his final album, Str8 off tha Streetz of Muthaphukkin Compton was released.

According to his son Lil Eazy-E, Eazy-E was worth an estimated USD$50 million at the time of his death.

Musical influences and style

Allmusic cites Eazy-E's influences as Ice-T, Redd Foxx, King Tee, Bootsy Collins, Run–D.M.C., Richard Pryor, Egyptian Lover, Schoolly D, Too $hort, Prince, the Sugarhill Gang and George Clinton. In the documentary The Life and Timez of Eric Wright, Eazy-E mentions collaborating with many of his influences.

When reviewing Str8 off tha Streetz of Muthaphukkin Compton, Stephen Thomas Erlewine noted "... Eazy-E sounds revitalized, but the music simply isn't imaginative. Instead of pushing forward and creating a distinctive style, it treads over familiar gangsta territory, complete with bottomless bass, whining synthesizers, and meaningless boasts." When reviewing Eazy-Duz-It, Jason Birchmeier of Allmusic said, "In terms of production, Dr. Dre and Yella meld together P-Funk, Def Jam-style hip-hop and the leftover electro sounds of mid-'80s Los Angeles, creating a dense, funky, and thoroughly unique style of their own." Birchmeier described Eazy-E's style as "dense, unique and funky", and said that it sounded "absolutely revolutionary in 1988".

Several members of N.W.A wrote lyrics for Eazy-Duz-It: Ice Cube, The D.O.C. and MC Ren. The EP 5150: Home 4 tha Sick features a song written by Naughty By Nature. The track "Merry Muthaphuckkin' Xmas" features Menajahtwa, Buckwheat, and Atban Klann as guest vocalists, and "Neighborhood Sniper" features Kokane as a guest vocalist. It's On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa features several guest vocalists, including Gangsta Dresta, B.G. Knocc Out. Kokane, Cold 187um, Rhythum D, and Dirty Red. Str8 off tha Streetz of Muthaphukkin Compton featured several guest vocalists, including B.G. Knocc Out, Gangsta Dresta, Sylk-E. Fyne, Dirty Red, Menajahtwa, Roger Troutman and ex-N.W.A members MC Ren and DJ Yella.

Legacy

Eazy-E has been called the godfather of gangsta rap. MTV's Reid Shaheem said that Eazy was a "rap-pioneer", and he is sometimes cited by critics as a legend. Steve Huey of AllMusic said that he was "one of the most controversial figures in gangsta rap". Since his 1995 death, many book and video biographies have been produced, including 2002's The Day Eazy-E Died and Dead and Gone.

When Eazy was diagnosed with AIDS, many magazines like Jet, Vibe, Billboard, The Crisis, and Newsweek covered the story and released information on the topic. All of his studio albums and EPs charted on the Billboard 200, and many of his singles—"Eazy-Duz-It", "We Want Eazy", "Real Muthaphuckkin G's, and "Just tah Let U Know"—also charted in the U.S.

In 2012 an Eazy-E documentary was released by Ruthless Propaganda, called Ruthless Memories. The documentary featured interviews from Jerry Heller, MC Ren and B.G. Knocc Out.

In the 2015 film Straight Outta Compton, Eazy-E is played by Jason Mitchell and the film is dedicated in his memory.

Discography

Studio albums

Eazy-Duz-It (1988)

Str8 off tha Streetz of Muthaphukkin Compton (1996)

Extended Plays

5150: Home 4 tha Sick (1992)

It's On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa (1993)

Impact of a Legend (2002)

with N.W.A

N.W.A. and the Posse (1987)

Straight Outta Compton (1988)

100 Miles and Runnin' (1990)

Niggaz4Life (1991)

#09/07 #03/26

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underoosweb · 5 years

Text

Salvation Ch.1

Warnings: Angst, Minor character deaths, mentions of abuse.

Pairings: Tony Stark x Stark!reader, eventual Peter Parker x reader

THIS WILL CONTAIN ENDGAME SPOILERS LATER ON

My writing is shit. Lol. Also I'm not great with summaries

Summary: Tony finds out he has a daughter and throughout the years they become closer. Y/N also develops a crush on Peter, but when tragedy strikes the starks, can Peter and Y/N help each other and find peace?

April 2008

Tony Stark was known as a genius, billionaire playboy philanthropist, he had women constantly hanging off his arms, throwing parties every week, spending money as if it were nothing. Tony’s life right now couldn’t be better. Tony was currently wrapped around another female friend, Pepper quickly made her way through the house, Tony’s suits in hand she set the suits down and asked Jarvis where Tony was. The AL answered that Mr. Stark was currently sleeping and asked if he should wake him, Pepper said yes and Jarvis did as he was told, Tony slowly awoke from his sleep, put on sweats, a plain black shirt and made his way into the garage. Pepper was currently waiting for him to show up, but instead of Tony she finds a brunette woman looking around, Pepper nodded towards the woman and the stranger waved and pointed to the front door, she left. Pepper started making her way towards the garage when she heard the doorbell ring, she sighed and opened the door expecting to see the brunette but instead she is greeted by a short woman in her mid 50s in a black pantsuit, thin glasses framed her blue colored almond shaped eyes, her black hair had streaks of silver in it, her smile was calming.

“Hello, how may I help you?” Pepper asked

“Oh, yes. I am looking for a Mr. Anthony Stark.”

“Mr. Stark? May I ask as to what this is about? Also, who are you?”

The older woman was about to speak, when she was interrupted by a little girl, no more than 6 years old.

“Mrs. Garcia… I really have to use the restroom.” the little girl said in a whisper

“Oh, is it alright if she uses the restroom?”

Pepper looked back and forth between the two, she sighed and nodded; letting them in, kneeling down to the girls level,

“The bathroom is down the hall, 2nd door to the right.” The girl didn’t bother to look up, she simply nodded and made her way to the bathroom.

“Forgive her, she’s extremely shy.” Mrs. Garcia said

“Where are my manners, My name is Julie Garcia,” she extended her hand towards Pepper and shook her hand.

“I am Pepper Potts, but you can call me Ms. Potts.”

“Ms.Potts, I’m from child services and I am here to talk to Mr. Stark about his daughter.” Pepper stared at the older woman and let out a chuckle

She shook her head “That’s not possible, Mr. Stark doesn’t have any children.”

“It would seem that he does Ms. Potts, the little girl who just went to the restroom, Y/N Stark.”

Pepper’s eyes widened,

“Jarvis, can you tell Tony to come up here please.”

“Of course Ms.Potts.”

Tony rolled his eyes at Jarvis, but still listened and made his way up the stairs, rubbing his eyes and bumping into something. The little girl fell to the floor with a thud, still looking down she murmured a small “I’m sorry.” Tony watched the small girl, pick herself up, dust her black leggings off and picked up the stuffed stitch she had been carrying. Before Tony could ask who she was, she entered the bathroom and shut the door in his face.

“Pepper, you didn’t tell me you had a niece, she’s a bit rude isn’t she.”

Tony noticed Pepper sitting across an older woman, he looked back towards the locked door and back to the older woman, pointing back and forth to the door and her.

“Ms. Potts, Who is this?” Tony asked crossing his arms, leaning against the wall. The older woman stood extending her hand towards Tony

“Hello Mr. Stark, my name is Julie Garcia and I'm with child services, I'm here to discuss your daughter.” She said while shaking Tony's hand

Tony smirked and let out a chuckle

“Daughter? I'm afraid you have mistaken Mrs. Garcia, I don't have any kids and even if I did what does it have to do with me?”

“Well, Mr.Stark, it seems you are mistaken, you do have a daughter and you are now the sole legal guardian of your daughter”

Tony sighed out of annoyance and rubbed his temples.

“Look I don't know what game you're playing or what kind of scam you are running, but I.DO.NOT.HAVE.A.CHILD”

Mrs. Garcia's lips went into a tight line. Her blue eyes looked behind Tony and were met by Y/C eyes, tears slowly forming in the young girls' eyes. She clutched her stitch tighter against her chest. Tony noticed Mrs. Garcia's attention was elsewhere, he turned to look down to see the young girl he bumped into. She kept her head down and slowly made her way towards the older woman. Tony could barely hear what the young girl said to the older woman.

“I'd like to go home to mama now.”

“Huh, see the kid here wants to go home to her mother, so have fun taking her back and goodbye.”

Tony started to walk away

“She can't go back Mr.Stark.” Mrs. Garcia turned towards Pepper

“Ms. Potts, is there a place where she can sit and watch a movie or play?”

Pepper nodded

“There's a theater room, she can watch a movie there.” Pepper moved to grab the young girls hand but she moved behind Mrs. Garcia and glared at Peppers' hand.

“She doesn't like to be touched by strangers,” Mrs. Garcia turned to the girl

“She'll just take you to the room, you can watch lilo and stitch there, she won't touch your hand. Go on now.”

Y/C eyes started up at Pepper and nodded. Y/N carefully followed behind Pepper. Once they were out of earshot, Mrs. Garcia pointed to the seat

“Would you please take a seat, Mr. Stark?” Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek and made his way to the chair across the older woman.

“As I was saying, I am here to discuss your daughter Y/N St-”

“So what, the mother wants me to pay up right? Does she want my money? Because she's not going to get any. She probably got pregnant by some low life and thought she could milk money out of me right? That would be the only logical explanation as to why you say I have a daughter.”

“Mr. Stark, I am not here to collect money for the child, I am here to say you are now her legal guardian as you are listed as her father on her birth certificate.”

Tony leaned back into the chair, crossing her leg over the other.

“Why am I legal guardian, what about her mother?”

The sound of clinking could be heard, the two look up to see Pepper making her way to the sofa.

“She is watching Lilo and Stitch, wrapped in a blanket.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.” Mrs. Garcia turned her attention back to Tony.

“Her mother is dead.”

Tony didn't react

“Actually her whole family died, brother, sister, mother.” Mrs. Garcia pulled out a file and handed it to Tony. Tony grabbed the file, pulling out its contents.

“Her mother was dating a man, who she thought was a good man, but later she found out he wasn't. He started drinking, gambling, stealing money from them, doing drugs. She found out and tried to kick him out but he ended up beating her and the older kids, luckily Y/N's sister and brother hid her before he could reach her. This went on for months,”

“Why didn't the police do anything?” Pepper asked

“Well, in Mexico, people tend to ignore these things. Y/N would hide whenever Mr. Perez would show up. One day, her mother was out working and her brother and sister were out with friends leaving Y/N alone in the house, Mr.Perez came, she hid but he went looking for her. When he found her, he wasn't too happy that she was hiding from him, he beat her, she barely made it out alive.”

Tony flipped through the pictures of the young girl covered in bruises, blood, cut lip, black eyes. Tony couldn't help to wince.

“Her mother had enough and ran with the kids. They lived peacefully for a while, but he owed money to some very powerful people. They managed to find them, Mr. Perez offered up the mother and children as a trade. Her mother ran and told the kids to run and not look back but the older kids stayed and sent their little sister off. Y/N ran and hid, she saw the men drag her mother and siblings out. The men shouted out that this was a warning to those who don't pay up. Y/N watched as the men raised their guns and shot her mother and siblings in the head. Y/N somehow managed to find U.S tourists who took her to the crossing, handing her over to the U.S officials. They tried asking her what had happened but she wouldn't speak, they found her birth certificate, found out she was born in the U.S and that you were her father.”

Tony continued to look through the contents when he stumbled upon a family photo of the young girl, her siblings and her mother. Tony's eyes widened as he stared at the mother. He shook his head, he remembered her. Tony had met Isabelle back in California, she worked as an intelligence analyst for the U.S government, she was a fierce 5 foot 3 woman. Y/c eyes, black curled hair that reached her waist that woman was not someone to be messed with and Tony loved it, at one point maybe he did love her. But Tony didn't do love, the reputation he built wouldn't let him. Tony stayed in California for her, he would wake up next to her and smile, gently running his fingers through her hair, when she would stir awake her Y/C eyes would stare up at him and Tony could swear his heart would skip a beat. 3 months of pure bliss, cuddling, forehead kisses, late night drives, stargazing. Isabelle would say to him

“Who would have thought Mr. Stark was such a romantic.”

Tony swore her smile was like sunshine, it could brighten his whole day, but Tony soon realized he needed to get back to reality. So, he broke her heart. Her smile went from lighting up his world to bittersweet and filled with darkness. Her eyes filled with tears and Tony just stared at her with a blank expression. Isabelle scoffed at him, she turned to grab her things and left.

Tony blinked as the memories flashed through his mind. He stared at the photograph, everyone was smiling except for Y/N, in most photos she's not smiling. The photos were dated by months and year, Y/N and her family stopped smiling 10-2007 and on. Tony looked at the ones of her smiling, god she had her mother's smile, radiating sunshine.

“Y/N is a special child.”

“What do you mean?” Pepper asked. Tony looked up from the files.

“Well, she has an outstanding IQ. She also creates things once she trusts you. She doesn't speak much mostly nods or shakes her head. She'll switch around she can be a normal 6-year-old or she can be a genius, most of the time she sticks to being 6. She got made fun of and the teachers didn't know what to do with her since she was far too advanced even for the college professors.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. Looking back down to the file.

“How do we know that she really is To- Mr.Stark's?”

“If you like we can do a DNA test, but that is up to Mr.Stark.”

Tony mindlessly nodded too focused on the file.

“If you wish to give up your parental rights, I'll have you sign the form and Y/N will be placed into the system.”

Pepper looked at Tony

“Mrs. Garcia is it alright if he thinks and talks it over for a couple of days.”

“Of course Ms.Potts, I should get Y/N then?”

“I'll go get her.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.”

Mrs. Garcia watched the blonde woman make her way through the hall and turned her attention back to Tony.

“You seem to recognize her mother, Mr. Stark.”

“I met her many years ago..”

Mrs. Garcia nodded turning she pulled a white envelope from her bag, handing it to Tony.

“This is for you Mr.Stark.”

Tony grabbed the envelope from her and began to open it.

Tony,

It’s been about 6 months since we last saw each other. God how I wish I could hate you but I can’t. The day you told me you never really cared for me, that I was some game you had fun playing, I found out I was pregnant. I hoped and prayed she looks nothing like you or is like you in the slightest, but there are times where I hope she has some things as you. Your eyes, your brains, sense of wonder and even your stubbornness. Tony, I hope you don’t doubt that she’s yours, I know you are at a point in your life where kids aren’t on your mind nor are they your priority but I hope that you do take care of her in case something happens to me. Please.

Isabelle

Tony

It’s been 2 years since I last saw you, I gave birth to our daughter and she is beautiful Tony. She took her first steps at such a young age, talking in sentences. She is definitely like you in some ways, smart, proud and most definitely stubborn. She doesn’t take no for an answer. She’s curious about everything, questions everything. I don’t know if I’ll actually ever send you these letters but if I do I’ll include a picture of her. My mother tells me she has my smile but she looks exactly like you. I live in Mexico now, if you ever want to meet her. I miss you, Tony.

Isabelle

Tony

She has grown so much, I wish you could see her but I’m afraid to tell you about her. I’m trying to move on. If anything happens to me take care of her Tony. I miss you.

Isabelle

“Here you are Y/N.”

Y/N made her way to Mrs. Garcia and held onto her hand. Mrs. Garcia stood, grabbing her belongings and made her way towards the door.

“It was nice meeting you Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark.”

“Wait!” Tony yelled out. He got up from his seat and made his way towards them.

“I.. I would like to have her stay.” Y/N breath hitched, she could feel her heart beating faster. She didn't want to stay with him or her she wanted to go home with her mother even if she knew that wasn't possible. Mrs. Garcia would never leave her here with a stranger. Would she? Y/N could feel her breathes getting shorter, the walls were closing in on her, her thoughts were screaming at her, tears streaming down her face. Why can’t she breathe? What if the same thing that happened to mama happens to Tony? What if he changes his mind? What happens if he didn’t simply want her? Is he really her father? Don’t leave. Don’t leave. PLEASE. DON’T. LEAVE.

“Sir, it seems that miss Y/N is having a panic attack,” said Jarvis

The three adults look down to the little girl and Tony instinctively reached out for her, Y/N scooted away from him, shaking her head. Mrs. Garcia bent down.

“Sweetie, look at me.” Y/N looked into the older woman’s eyes.

“I need you to breathe in and out deeply in the counts of 10, for 5 seconds breathe in and for the other 5 breathe out.” Y/N nodded doing what she was told.

“Miss Y/N heart rate has calmed and her breathing is back to normal.”

Y/N looked around to find the source of the voice

“Oh, that’s Jarvis. He’s.. how do I explain this, He’s an AI who helps around the place.” Tony said simply.

Y/N furrowed her brows, artificial intelligence? From the sounds of it, he did more than help around.

“What else do you do Jarvis?” Y/N said timidly. Mrs. Garcia’s eyes widened, Y/N rarely spoke to strangers, it took her weeks to get her to talk to her. But to her Jarvis was someone to be trusted, he helped her.

“I am tasked with running the business for Stark industries as well as security for Mr. Stark's Mansion and Stark Tower.”

“So, you do everything basically?”

“I do most, but Ms. Potts does more.”

“Hey, who’s the boss?” Tony scoffed

“Ms. Potts sir.”

Tony scoffed once more and rolled his eyes, Y/N stared at the man. He acts like a child, from the looks of things he depends mostly on Ms. Potts and Jarvis to remind him of things.

“Would you like to see what I’m working on?” Tony asked

Y/N looked Tony up and down. She nodded, reaching her hand towards his. Everyone was shocked at the sudden gesture, Tony let out a slight smile and grab her hand, leading her down to the garage. Mrs. Garcia and Ms. Potts followed behind the two. Tony explained to the little girl about the new security system he was building up for Jarvis. Y/N looked at the coding in front of her and rolled her eyes. Anyone with a brain could hack into this system. Y/N set her stitch down and typed in a different sequence and easily got into his files. Tony’s eyes widened, he let out a chuckle.

“Ok, so what would you do then? Miss. smarty pants.”

Y/N smiled and created a whole new system.

“There.” She said and went back to hugging her Stitch.

“Sweetie?” Y/N looked up to Mrs. Garcia

“May I speak with you?” Y/N nodded, Mrs. Garcia and Y/N made their way up the stairs.

“Would you like to stay here with Mr. Stark? You seem to be getting along with him.” Y/N looked back down the stairs, she felt conflicted. Could she trust him?

“If you like it can be a sort of trial run. Stay here for a couple of months and I’ll come back if you want to leave you can come with me if you want to stay you can stay.” Y/N looked back and forth between Mrs. Garcia and the door. She nodded.

“I’d like to try.”

#tony stark #tony stark x stark!reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #avengers endgame #endgame spoilers #tom holland

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ask-de-writer · 5 years

Text

Today’s WIP is INSURANCE, a Grumpy Goat <tail>

This WIP is not age restricted. Like all Grumpy <tails> it is rated YA.

INSURANCE

a Grumpy Goat <tail>

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7813 words Presently written The story is incomplete

THIS A WORK IN PROGRESS

Writing begun 02/08/18

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions are actively encouraged.

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I was down in the Ponyville Hall of Records, doing one of my most favorite things. I was paying Mol, the somewhat elderly mare who ran the place, seventy bits in contract registration fees. She was happily sorting my most recent contracts and doing all of those clerkly things connected to registering them and making them all into totally legal ruin, bad luck and doom for ponies in and around Ponyville, all paid for in advance by OTHER PONIES from in and around Ponyville! My business is Non Equine magic, conducted by carefully drawn and publicly registered contracts.

Mol was looking at the pile as she shook her head. “They certainly are keeping you busy with your Non Equine magic practice, aren't they, Grumpy, my favorite dead goat?”

The glamor spell that lets any other being see my otherwise invisible spirit body smiled as I replied, “They certainly are, Mol, my lovely. Seven contracts yesterday alone and not a one that is a minimum fee job. All from 500 golden bits on up.”

Mol smiled as she filed the papers. It always tickles her fancy that I pretend that she is both young and beautiful. It is our game. “I am surprised that any of Ponyville is still standing, Grumpy. Before you started registering your Non Equine magic contracts, I had no idea that so many ponies wished each other such ill will.”

Mol sighed and leaned on the polished hardwood of the counter. “There is something that you should know about, Grumpy. One of the agents for Canterlot Casualty and Life got caught trying to sneak a registered policy out of the files here. It was your old Home Owner's and Life Insurance policy. You know, the policy that they gave you so much trouble settling when your old house here in town got burned down by that anti goat mob.”

That captured my attention entire. “Perhaps I should take a look at that policy, Mol, my beauty. I was led to believe that it was over and done with after the court ordered settlement was paid on my house.”

Grinning like she had just performed a magical trick, Mol reached under the counter and produced a fat envelope. “Somehow, Grumpy, I suspected that you would want to take a look.”

Whistling tunelessly, I leafed through the pages of a policy that I had last seen while being bullied by a Canterlot Casualty and Life agent. I was younger, less experienced and recovering from serious burns along with some broken bones at the time, so I was easier to mislead than I am now. I could easily see WHY they wanted to steal the only copy of this little time bomb.

When I took out the policy, I was new to Ponyville and had named MYSELF as the beneficiary. At the time, I did not know anybody else well enough to just hoof over the whole 5,000 bits to, should I die. True, though it took suing them to get it, they had paid off on my house and contents after the Celestian Church anti goat mob attacked me and set fire to my home.

It was Mol who pointed out to me the deadly part of the policy that was being stolen. Attached to the policy was a Royal Chancery copy of my death certificate with a note of the date that the company was notified that I was formally deceased and must be paid the death benefit of 5000.00 golden bits.

Serenely she hoofed over a separate sheet with the interest and penalties calculated on it. Mol said, “Due to the fifteen year delay so far, the wonders of compound interest, not to mention late fees, based on the total amount owing, Grumpy, they owe you just over 1,000,000 Golden Bits!”

I looked up in something like shock. Batting the eyelashes that I don't actually have, I commented, “Mol, my darling sweet pony, I thought that I was the evil one here! What led you to check this out for me?”

Gone dead serious and weeping just a little, she leaned heavily on the counter as she replied, “A few months ago, my brother Brownie was killed in a cart accident over on the Falmire Cutoff. He was pulling a two wheel delivery wagon and a big brewery wagon cut too close to him. Their front axle end took out spokes on Brownie's right wheel. That flipped his cart and dumped him onto his side. The brewery wagon ran over his neck with their rear wheel. It killed him on the spot.

“Canterlot Casualty and Life tried to bully poor Vanner, his widow, into taking only half of his standard life insurance value. They tried to tell her that Brownie had set up the accident and that his death was a suicide! They claimed that they did not have to pay anything and were being GENEROUS in offering her HALF of the standard death benefit.

“Judge Coldheart listened to the case and ordered them to pay the full double indemnity for accidental death forthwith. Even so, Vanner did not get her check for nearly three weeks.”

I looked up (goats like me are little guys) and asked, “Would it be too much trouble to request full copies of this policy and attachments, my lovely mare?”

Her smile returning, Mol slid the documents that I had been studying across the polished hardwood of the counter. “I was pretty sure that you would want them, Grumpy. These are official copies. I paid for them myself. If anyone can kick Canterlot Casualty and Life in the rump, it is you!”

I neatly folded everything back into its envelope, reached up to take Mol's hoof in my own glamored ones and gave her a kiss on the hoof. “That my lovely sweet young mare is for your kindness. Adieu, my lovely mare, until I next have business for you. You may be assured that I will keep you informed about this little matter, too.”

I took my leave, tail flipping about with pleasure.

Nearing the offices of Canterlot Casualty and Life, I thoughtfully let the glamor spell on my invisible spirit body go. I did cast one more small glamor to make my very solid saddlebags turn invisible as well.

I waited until some ponies were going in and joined them, thus entering the office without being noticed. Even if nopony could see it, I smiled. This was my idea of fun!

The Ponyville branch manager's door was shut. I did the simplest thing possible. I knocked. At his call of, “Come in!” I did. And shut the door behind me. The dark blue unicorn with a pale purple mane and tail sitting behind the desk looked up after a few moments of determined looking but bogus paper shuffling.

Irritated that his act of being terribly busy but managing to find a little time for the client was apparently wasted, he returned to actually doing some sort of paperwork. I let that drag on for a few moments before returning his 'shot across my bows' with a broadside of my own!

Without bothering to become visible in any way, I stated, “We need to talk. Specifically, we need to discuss the fifteen year delayed payment of the Grumpeter Goat life insurance claim.”

He gave away that he knew exactly what I was talking about by his ghastly start and near choking before he managed to snap, “I have no idea what you are talking about!”

“Really? Then your agent, or should I say accomplice, was lying to the nice police officer? You know, the one who arrested him for trying to steal the original registered policy from the Hall of Records. He said that he was just following his boss' orders. HIS boss. That would be YOU.”

Trying to shift the conversation to safer ground, he demanded, “At least have the courtesy to show yourself!”

That gave me an idea that was so mean and evil that I just had to do it! I faded slowly into view, my glamor spell taking the form of a maggot and corruption leaking goat zombie!

I love glamors. They are such easy spells, once you get the hang of them. And I have had YEARS of practice!

From his expression, Mister Stallheart (at least that is what his desk sign said) was not having the best of days! Score another one for the 'evil goat'!

I reached into an apparently rotting saddlebag and produced my nice clean papers! I laid them on the desk in front of Stallheart. He recoiled from them as if they were deadly serpents. From his point of view, maybe the serpents would have been preferable.

They were the copies of the policy with attached death notice, my death certificate, and the calculation of just how much they owed by trying to be cheapskates and not pay a goat.

Stallheart tried to gather them all into one of the files on his desk. I placed a corrupted appearing but sturdy hoof on them. “Those are MY copies. If you need copies, I can make them for you. Only five copper a page. If you already have copies, then simply give mine back.”

Stallheart had to open the file to get some of my papers back out. There, right on top, was THEIR copy of my death certificate. There were other papers under it. Considerably more than just the policy. More importantly it proved that the Grumpeter Goat file that he 'knew nothing about' was right there on his desk! Even worse for him, it was the file that he had tried to sweep my copies into, meaning that he knew EXACTLY where it was.

With ill grace, he returned my papers, stating, “I thought that you were giving me those copies.”

The nice blank cover of the file turned bright red. Truth testing spells are easy and quick to do. And VERY useful. My grin appeared to be losing several teeth and some maggots seemed to be leaking out!

I pointed to the red cover and and suggested, “Next time that you know that you are facing a being who knows Non Equine magic, lying is not a good idea.

“In two days, another 2,500 golden bits late penalty will be due and added to the balance owing and subject to interest. I will not be back down from my cave in that time. If you wish to discuss the payment or terms for payment, you will have to come to me.”

I took my papers and my leave. Corrupted appearance or not, I felt far cleaner after I left Stallheart's office. I did not bother to remove the zombie glamor until I was well away from the offices of Canterlot Casualty and Life. I resumed my usual town glamor as a handsome piebald black, brown and tan goat with full curl horns, just like I used to be before the little necromantic accident that killed me about fifteen years ago.

I wended my way through the “cosmopolitan downtown” of Ponyville and turned up Mane street. I figured that a nice big clover top burger with onion rings and a clotted cream milkshake would be just the ticket to clear the bad taste of dealing with Mister Stallheart.

Caramel Treat's Sweets is a restaurant that is always good for what ails me. Caramel Treat and her mate Fangrin are two of the finest werewolf ponies that a goat could hope to meet. Their extremely heightened werewolf senses make them superb cooks. Their waitress, Peanut Brittle is another treasure. She is a true golden palomino, a rare color pattern among ponies. She is also the reason that I don't hate all ponies, only most of them!

Peanut took in a badly burned goat with broken bones and nursed me back to health. That was just after Caramel and Fangrin, in their wolf forms, rescued me from an anti goat mob fomented by the now defunct Celestian Church.

Such times are now thankfully behind us all. Even more thankfully, the friendships formed back then are still strong.

Peanut saw me coming up the street and called, “Your usual, Grumpy?”

As I settled myself at an outdoor table, I replied, “Of course! Am I so predictable as all that, Peanut?”

Flirting her tail playfully as she went in to deliver my order, she chirped, “Yes, you are!”

That settled, she began to industriously set up my tray.

Looking into the interior of the shop, usually only opened in bad or cold weather, I noticed a nanny with two kids at a table. They appeared to be about as happy as a dying creature is when seeing vultures spiraling overhead. Having a well developed curiosity bump, I pointed to them and asked Peanut, “What is their story?”

Peanut explained, “They are Graymak's family. He was a really nice goat who helped us with our first Nightmare Night celebration and lots of them since. He passed on about a month ago. Canterlot Casualty and Life has been refusing to pay his insurance and his family are on really hard times.” As she mentioned Canterlot Casualty and Life, Peanut's lovely snout wrinkled in disgust.

She went on, “Caramel found out and she is feeding them for free. I wish that we could do more.”

I paused in sucking on my milkshake. Squinting my eyes in thought, I offered, “I can help. Find out what they need. This evil old dead goat will pay it. I will collect it back later from Canterlot Casualty and Life.”

Peanut actually gave me a hug and said, “Thanks, Grumpy. I am sure that Nalit and the kids will appreciate your help.”

Werewolf hearing and other senses have to be experienced to be believed. The lovely caramel tan colored pony that is Caramel Treat in her pony form came out and sat by me. “I heard what you said, Grumpy. Graymak and his friends were really important to me. If you are going to take care of Nalit, this meal is on me.”

I shrugged. “It is not a problem, Caramel. Have them bring all of their receipts, bills and notices here. I will pay it all out of my funds. I will give them a living stipend too, while this business of their life insurance is sorted out.”

Caramel nodded thoughtfully and asked, “Got any of your blank contract forms along, Grumpy? Perhaps we could, um, you know, sort of expedite the payment?”

I just had to grin at that one! A grin with fangs in it! I do so love the flexibility of appearance that glamors allow me! I stated, “Capital idea, Caramel! It just so happens that I do! I also have another claim that might get sort of folded into the contract! Here, take a look at this.”

I fished out my old policy and and the sheet of figures on how much Canterlot Casualty and Life owed ME.

Whistling tunelessly, Caramel stared at the total due. Then she offered, “You know, Grumpy, it could be really fun to put those scavengers in a corner where they had to pay EVERY outstanding claim HONESTLY.”

I blinked about three times, stunned by the sheer beauty of the idea. Recovering quickly, I fished out a blank contract and started to fill in the cover page! I innocently pointed out, “I do have to be paid for this, you know, Caramel. Would ten copper bits be too much?”

Caramel smiled, a wolf's tongue lolling out between fangs that normally had no place in a pony! “I see, Grumpy! That is the smallest sum that you can make exact change for your 10% refund, if the contract fails! Somehow, I think that if Fangrin and I try REALLY hard, we can manage to raise the sum!”

Chuckling, she hoofed over a single silver bit, worth exactly ten copper bits.

I quickly filled in a results page that would have horrified the Canterlot Casualty and Life Board of Directors that sit in Canterlot if they had seen it.

I became aware that I was being watched by more than just Caramel. The nanny, Nalit and her kids were watching in fascination too. She bleated quietly, “How does something like this work? I mean, it just looks like a simple contract to cause something that is totally out of our hooves to happen.”

I nodded cheerfully. “Completely correct, Nalit. The fly in reality's ointment is that little thing called Non Equine Magic. I won't go into detail about how it works or is done but the results spelled out here on the results page will appear to work out by entirely ordinary means no matter how bizarre those means wind up being. Point is, that those 'ordinary means' will be guided by this contract to leave us with the results that we want. Nothing flashy, just the world deciding to go OUR way, instead of THEIR way.”

Peanut interrupted to bring out my clover top burger, onion rings and seconds on my shake. She also had the food for Nalit and brood.

Caramel looked over the results page and laughed out loud. She also signed the contract on the spot! Chortling, she suggested, “Looks like you are going to have to go see Mol again today, Grumpy!”

That brought a most welcome spectator. Coalsmoke's lovely voice asked, “Doing a contract here at Caramel's, Grumpy? I thought that you only did your business up at your cave. What is this, may I see? It is going to be publicly registered, after all.”

I smiled with delight that was only partly due to the presence of Ponyville's most beautiful and smartest business mare. “I would be delighted to have you look over this particular contract, Coalsmoke, my dear friend. While you are at it, have whatever you want, on me. Consider it a consultation fee. I want to be sure that I have done this particular piece of business as well as I can.”

Coalsmoke turned her beautifully conformed head to Peanut and said, “You heard our favorite dead goat, Peanut. I will have your surf and turf, with the clover steak done rare. Put an asparagus salad on the side and I will have the honey apple cocktail, thank you, dear.”

Turning back to me she took the contract and her eye brows shot up in surprise. “Only ten bits? You must really have it in for them! Let's see who it is!”

She flipped past the legal boiler plate first page and started to read the results page. She put it down and chuckled deep in her throat. “Don't change a thing, Grumpy! I really want to see this one work out. I used to use Canterlot Casualty and Life as a benefit for my workers. When I found out how bad their payout policy was I dropped them like a rock.

“I got together with Ponyville Trust and Loan and we set up an honest insurance system for my workers.”

I picked up everything, folding and sorting the pages into three envelopes. One, I tucked into my saddlebag for my files. I gave the second to Caramel, who had paid for it and signed it.

The last one I took with me as I bid my friends and company adieu. “I must away to the registry! See you later!”

Coalsmoke held up a book, calling, “Catch you up at the cave, Grumpy! I have the new Daring Do for our reading!”

With a spring in my step, I dashed back to the town hall and the Hall of Records. Mol greeted me, “Goodness, Grumpy! Your business must really be brisk today! In here TWICE?”

She took the envelope and opened it. As fast as she saw the target of this contract, she beat me to paying the registry fee! As she hoofed over the few bits, she commented, “This couldn't happen to a better company! I can't wait to tell Vanner about this!”

Back up at my cave, I heard familiar voices. Coalsmoke was speaking to somepony with a voice that was both soft and dream like. I had to wonder what could have brought Princess Luna to my humble abode. More to the point, I had wonder what happened to her usual squad of guards.

I kept the glamor of my handsome piebald black, brown, and tan goat self as I stepped up onto the ledge in front of my cave. Princess Luna, Coalsmoke and the Litch King, Lord of the Dead, known to his few friends as Clarence were quietly chatting. Luna's Royal Guards were sitting off to one end of the ledge and not even trying to be the officious, class conscious pack of clowns that they usually appear to be.

Luna cheerfully called out, “Grumpy! I am playing hooky! Lord Rockbottom's lawn party will have to do without me. Thank whatever goodness there is for that. In over three thousand years, I have never attended any event more boring than one of Lord Rockbottom's lawn parties.”

I pretended to be stunned by the thought. “You came here instead of going to one of Rockbottom's wonderful parties? How astounding.” It was an act. A bad one. I have been to ONE of Lord Rockbottom's lawn parties. It was TWO too many.

The Guard Major, in charge of the squad and a veteran of Luna's service, spoke up with mild good humor, “Sir, we have all had his lawn parties inflicted on us.” He raised a hoof to point to the Princess. “She threatened to make us go to his next one if we interfere with her visit to you.”

I grinned as I replied, “That is inhumane! What did you do to bring out the Nightmare in Princess Luna?”

Clarence, sun glinting off the polished bones of his skeleton, observed cheerfully, “I believe that I know what I should do for Lord Rockbottom's eternity! I could inflict an unending lawn party of his own devising on him!”

Princess Luna recoiled and stated, “Clarence! That would be utterly inhumane! And totally appropriate!” She smiled, saber toothed fangs showing in her otherwise perfect face. “May I suggest a guest list, Clarence?”

He tapped his bare front teeth with a bony hoof and pretended to consider the possibility. “That depends, Luna, my dear. Are you sure that you hate all of them that much?”

Coalsmoke, ever the truly practical one, pointed out, “While you are considering that, I have Daring Do and the Adventure of the Singing Sands. We can listen to Grumpy's reading and be serene in the knowledge that WE are NOT at Lord Rockbottom's!”

We were just settling ourselves for reading when Coalsmoke noticed a pony, tiny in the distance, struggling up the trail to my cave. Only grumping a little, the whole entourage trooped into my cave and went on into the back room, closing its iron sheet covered door behind them.

They knew that even though my contracts are publicly registered, many of my clients are quite shy about being seen dealing with the evil dead goat. Got to admit, they mostly do have good reasons for the secrecy. I mean, nearly all of them are trying to cause some sort of meanness or evil for other ponies and don't want to be known as the one responsible. If they stay secret, they can (and do) blame the “evil goat up on the mountain.”

That bothers me not at all. Some of my best friends are ponies, in spite of which, I have an overall detestation of ponies in general. Helping them along the path to an unhappy meeting with Clarence (Lord of the Dead, remember?) and getting well paid for it does not bother me at all. If ponies had been a bit nicer years ago, I would not be dead now. I would also be a lot poorer.

I first raised the Lord of the Dead to gain revenge on ponykind after the afore mentioned mob caused me to hate ponies in general. He and I did make a bargain in regards to my revenge. There were two flaws in what I did. One was a printer's error in the gramarye that I used. The second was that the Lord of the Dead turned out to have a sense of humor.

After I summoned him to make a zombie to rampage among those that wronged me, he advised me not to, pointing out the problems with the idea. He suggested that I have him create an invisible spirit body, controlled by my will alone. On the face of it, it was good advice, so I took it.

The printer's mistake with the pentacles let him take MY body and leave my mind in charge of the invisible spirit body! He left me my skull, neatly aged looking, to wear like a hat for letting others know where I am, unless I take it off, that is.

It has worked out really well, actually. Clarence and I are now friends. He comes and goes freely in my cave.

Back to the unpleasant present. Stepping up onto the ledge in front of my cave was none other than Mister Stallheart, of Canterlot Casualty and Life.

I smiled at him as I inquired, “Mister Stallheart! Do you have money for me or perhaps a payment plan? I am willing to accept either one. A payment plan with a reasonable interest rate would be most welcome!”

He stared down his prominent nose at the apparently ordinary goat speaking to him and replied distastefully, “I have a simple settlement agreement for your signature, Mister Goat.”

I nodded. I am well used to ponies who look down on me because I am a goat. Their disdain is returned with a side helping of disgust at their meanness. Still, gold is gold.

I gestured at my steel fronted cave entrance with its siege rated door. “Do come in, Mister Stallheart. I do all of my business inside, away from prying eyes.”

Without waiting to see if he was following, I trotted in and took my ease in the only easy chair in the front room of my cave. I reached over and lifted my skull with its everburning candle between the horns and glamors of glowing snake-like eyes and big fangs from its stand. I settled it onto my spirit body, replacing my apparent head.

The smooth talking dark blue unicorn with the pale purple mane and tail sat on my carpet and opened his briefcase. He smiled, but not with his eyes. “Now, Mister Goat, I just need you to sign this simple settlement paper here.”

He proffered a pen and sheet that was folded back so that only the signature line showed.

Since I already had a glamor spell on my invisible spirit body to appear as the handsome piebald black, tan and brown goat that I used to be, except for my skull, I reached out a hoof and snagged the whole sheet off the top of his case and unfolded it.

Rattling the largely blank page in front of his eyes, I pointed out, “This is NOT a settlement of my claim! It is a quitclaim on my policy and, in violation of Crowns Law, there is blank space above the signature line.

“That practice was made illegal after sharpers like you conned ponies and others into signing documents and then later filling in ruinous terms that were not there at signing.”

He snapped, “A quitclaim IS a settlement! We will let you off from fraud charges if and only if you sign the quitclaim!

“You cannot sit there in front of me, living and breathing, and pretend to be dead!”

I snickered. “Totally wrong, Sir! I am absolutely deceased! I only breathe when I talk. That is only for appearances and can be dispensed with. The fact of my death has been proved in both the local and Kingdom courts.

“As you are well aware, my death certificate is formally registered in the Ponyville Hall of Records. It is irregular in one regard. The Signing Physician, who also put her seal to the document is none other than Princess Luna herself.”

He snapped, “Canterlot Casualty and Life rejects that document as fraudulent!”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “Really? Well, as this quitclaim demonstrates, you are experts where fraud is concerned! The Royal Seals cannot be counterfeited. Besides my death certificate there are five rulings by both the local and Kingdom courts.”

“Name one case to prove that insanity!”

I promptly returned, “The case was decided under the Royal Wing, from which there is no possible appeal. It is Ponyville Medical Society vs. Grupeter Goat.

“The basis of the case was the Ponyville Medical Society refusing to pay a slander and libel settlement to me. Their grounds were that since I was dead, by my own admission, that any payment had to be made to the executor of my estate, not to me.

“The joint ruling of the Princesses was that the Edict of Equality applied to me. As a still conscious and reasoning being, I remain not only a citizen but am the lawful executor and sole owner of my estate.

“Both Princesses also agreed that the Edict of Equality and Equestrian Citizenship do apply to all deceased individuals whether they be ghosts, vampires, zombies or any other undead being if they retain consciousness and the ability to reason.

“The issuance of my Royally sealed Death Certificate was a part of that case. It so states on it in the actual horn writing of Princess Luna herself. That is why I picked that particular case. You have a copy of the certificate and connected case, I saw them when you tried to swipe my copy of the insurance policy.”

Just at that moment, we heard the creaking of hinges. The door to the back room of my cave opened. Princess Luna and her guards entered, quietly filling the front room and securing the only door to the outside and escape!

Mildly, she said, “Your pardon for the interruption, Grumpy. The reason that I am here and this business of yours that I could not help but overhear are connected. Lord Rockbottom, whose lawn party I am dodging, is the CEO of Canterlot Casualty and Life.

“Do you know of any other problem payouts that they have had?”

I nodded. “Two others, your Highness. The pony Brownie, a brother of Mol, at the Ponyville Hall of Records, was killed in a carting accident. Payment was offered at one half of face value with the claim that the accident was a suicide. They had to sue. When they did, they got an order for double indemnity because of the accident. Their payment was slow in coming after the court order.

“The other is Graymak the goat, a friend of Caramel Treat. His widow Nalit and their kids are on hard times due to the slow payment of the policy death benefit. I have paid their bills and given them a living stipend out of my own pocket.”

That was too much for Stallheart! “You what!? We were holding back on him to be sure that he wasn't murdered! He died under unexplained circumstances!”

I nodded and said sarcastically, “RIIIGHT. He spent his last week in Ponyville General Horsepital with a terminal cancer. His death was attended by his physician, his family and Reverend Smallflower. Which one of them is the murder suspect? Why did you fail in your legal duty to notify the Ponyville authorities of your suspicions?”

Princess Luna was watching and listening with interest.

Stallheart snapped, “You screwed up the foreclosure on the Graymak house and land! That is a valuable property that no mere goats have any right to!”

I pounced on that! “Really? Bleatin' Hallow was the worst land in the Ponyville area. Ponies ignored it for nearly seventy years. It was only after the goats moved in and put a lot of work into the land that it became worth anything. Now it is too good for mere goats? What kind of scavenger are you?”

He growled back, “This ain't got nothing to do with why I am here. Just sign off the quitclaim or get sued for claiming to be dead. Those are your only choices!”

I just smiled serenely as I hoofed over the quitclaim paper to Princess Luna. “Here, my dear Princess, is what he wants me to sign. Could you perhaps educate him on just how deep the cesspool is that he just jumped into?”

She took one look at the sheet and demonstrated that she had learned a great deal in her three thousand years. “Major Lightning, please formally detain Mister Stallheart for multiple violations of Crowns Law.

“This altercation has just become a case under the Royal Wing. Not only have I personally heard violations of the Edict of Equality, I have been presented with a PRINTED contract form from Canterlot Casualty and Life that is in blatant violation of Equestrian Business Law. I have heard what appears to be a criminal conspiracy to deprive the beneficiaries of policy holders of both their proper disbursements and to further victimize the beneficiaries through improper seizure of homes and land.”

Stallheart struggled against being put into restraints but to no avail. There were more guards than he could resist and they were stronger, too. The Royal Guard might be made up of petty nobles, but they are first and foremost, a well trained military unit.

That he was not thinking too clearly became evident in mere seconds! “If this is going to be a trial under the Royal Wing, I demand that Celestia hear the case too!”

Luna grinned in delight! Pulling out a Magic Net mirror, she tapped a few well practiced codes. As soon as Celestia showed in the mirror, Luna began, “Tia! Guess what? I have got you out of Lord Rockbottom's lawn party! We have a demand for both of us to hear a case under the Royal Wing.

“Be sure to let Lord Rockbottom know that the case dragging you away from his excellent entertainment is due to his Ponyville Branch Manager, Mister Stallheart. It appears that he may have involved the company in some minor transgressions.

“One more thing, be sure to stop by the kitchens and pick up the ingredients for Grumpy's clovertop scramble. Enough for about fifteen.

“See you soon, Sis.”

Stallheart was aghast. “You just blackened my name with the CEO of Canterlot Casualty and Life! How could you?”

Mildly, Luna replied, “So far, you have violated the Edict of Equality in my hearing. You have stated that those who developed Bleatin' Hallow from a worthless waste to some of the richest farmland in the area have no right to it.

“In addition, you have stated that a Death Certificate that I personally filled out and sealed was fraudulent. I assure you that it is not. Grumpeter Goat's death was the accidental result of a misprint in the book that he was using as a guide to his Working.”

Stallheart slumped. “OK, we will pay him the million golden bits that he is after. No need for all the rest of this. The big thing is gonna be taken care of.”

At the word “ACCIDENTAL” Coalsmoke's ears pricked up!

Coalsmoke suggested, “Perhaps Her Highness would like to look over your old policy, Grumpy.”

Shrugging, I hoofed it over to Princess Luna. As she flipped through the pages, she frowned. She set the policy down and pulled out a big circular sliding rule. Consulting the policy, she began flipping the sliding rings and the hairline about with the ease of long practice.

Putting down the policy and the calculator, she said, “Canterlot Casualty and Life does not owe you any million golden bits, Grumpy.”

Stallheart curled his lip and sneered, “Been trying to tell him that since I got here! Thanks for confirming it, Princess.”

She looked at him as if he was a lump of sludge that learned to speak. “He was trying to cheat you even here at the last, Grumpy. They owe you about FIVE and a quarter million golden bits. Your death was ruled an ACCIDENT. Double indemnity applies. Just amazing how it grows when the starting sum is TEN thousand instead of five thousand.”

I was simply stunned.

I turned on Stallheart and replied to his earlier attempt to weasel out of this, “Right. We can just forget about all those other policies that that you are cheating on, even to the point of getting the beneficiaries evicted from their homes before you pay them a dime. Not likely.”

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Stallheart looked like he might want to hide under the carpet or somewhere else inconspicuous.

It was just then that there came a gentle knock at my very solid steel front door. Luna opened it eagerly. She hugged her sister, exclaiming, “Celestia! It is so good to see you! This will be a fun one! Before we can reach a complete verdict, we are going to have to do total audits of both Canterlot Casualty and Life AND Equestrian National Bank! We are going to be free of the Court stuffed shirts for at least a week!”

Celestia snickered, “Thanks for the rescue, Luna. There is only one thing wrong with what you just said. If we are going to be doing a Royal Wing audit of BOTH Canterlot Casualty and Life and Equestrian National Bank, how much do you want to bet that we are going to be horn deep in nobles trying to find ways to stop it? An awful lot of them are heavily invested in one or both of those companies.”

Coalsmoke grinned and replied, “Simple really. Just let it be known that you are looking for some financial wrongdoing by an interlocked cadre of executives in both institutions. Don't say WHAT the wrongdoing is, just that ANY attempt to interfere with your audit will be regarded as complicity and result in financial responsibility by the shareholders involved. That should keep them away from the investigation in droves!

“For now, simply require Canterlot Casualty and Life to make insurance payments to beneficiaries promptly and freeze the ability of the Bank to foreclose any properties Kingdom wide, until you directly approve them.”

Luna smiled serenely as she agreed, “We have just been given business advice by one of Equestria's best business mares. I think that we should take it.”

Celestia nodded. “Anything else that we should do, Coalsmoke?”

The lovely pure black mare batted her eyelashes at me as she pointed to me. “Him. Buy a customized truth testing spell from Grumpy, along with the questions that you need to ask of it. I have several of them myself. Great time savers. You can't believe how quickly you start to get honest answers purely by habit when the liars themselves turn ghastly colors according to the degree of the lies that they try to tell you.”

The twins chuckled. I volunteered, “I do have to be paid for the magic to work . . .”

Stallheart interrupted, “That's a greedy goat for you! He never does anything for less than a hundred gold! You are about to be robbed blind!”

I waited him out and went on, “Think that the Equestrian National Treasury can swing ten whole copper bits? We can discuss the exact contract terms over the clover bloom scramble. When we have the contract ready, one of the guards can fly it down to the Registry in the morning. Mol will have closed up and gone home by now.”

Guard Major Lightning spoke up thoughtfully, “We could put Mister Stallheart in a transport net and remove him to the Ponyville Jail as a Royal Prisoner. No point in having him here to listen to all that will be discussed regarding his company and the bank.”

“Well thought on, Major,” Luna replied. She paused to write and seal a note. “Deliver this along with the prisoner. Judge Coldheart needs to be aware of the terms under which he is being held.”

The guards efficiently wrapped Stallheart in the transport net and carried him out, the sound their wings fading in the distance.

The next morning, after a quiet breakfast, Princesses Celestia and Luna, accompanied by their guard, took off from my ledge. Watching them glide down toward Ponyville in perfect formation was an impressive sight.

Coalsmoke and I trotted down the trail, she to return to her many business interests and I to register the truth spell contract. I was chuckling at the idea of so many business ponies in the Equestrian National Bank and Canterlot Casualty and Life turning interesting textures and shades of amusing colors while trying to lie their way out this mess!

We parted company with the agreement to meet for lunch at Caramel Treat's.

As I trotted serenely along Ponyville's well shaded streets I noticed genuine proof that some ponies can actually learn from past errors! Several unicorns that I remembered from the days when they were Celestian Church bullies were quietly crossing the street to avoid any risk of meeting me . . . again! Those “superior” unicorns had provided the public of Ponyville with many amusing mishaps by running afoul of my simple and non lethal defensive spells back during the days of the “Celestian Church”.

My little glamored hooves that really aren't there pattered on the nice carpet runners of the Ponyville town hall as I turned into the Hall of Records. Mol looked at my happy smile and snickered, “A smile like that on you bodes no good for somepony! What is happening now?”

I just hoofed over the contracts and said, “Read them for yourself, my lovely young accomplice in justice.”

Mol was chuckling as she picked up the contracts. “With you Grumpy, those two words usually go together as one word. INJUSTICE!”

Her eyes caught the twin Royal Seals, along with the Seal of their mother, Skyglow, titular Queen of Equestria. Suddenly, Mol became all business, very carefully documenting the contracts. Looking up from her work, she asked seriously, “Why would their Highnesses need customized truth spells?”

My tail was happily flipping about so fast that I almost thought that I should be flying as I replied, “They were requested to do a trial under the Royal Wing! As preparation for the trial, they are doing a TOTAL AUDIT of both Canterlot Casualty and Life and the Equestrian National Bank.

“Besides that, their Highnesses have given both institutions Royal Orders to make immediate payment of insurance claims in full and to cease all foreclosures unless specifically and individually approved by both Celestia and Luna.”

Mol brightened up and suggested, “Perhaps you ought to suggest to their Highnesses that they extend their inquiry here to the Hall of Records. All foreclosures, insurance claims and payments have to be registered.”

“Mol, my sweet and lovely young mare, would you honor me by joining Coalsmoke and I for lunch at Caramel Treat's?”

Shortly, I was at the front door of Canterlot Casualty and Life. My way was blocked by a Royal Guard at first. “No pony or other is allowed in, sir. There is a Royal Audit in progress.”

“I know that, Sargent Cirrus. Please convey to their Highnesses that Grumpy Goat has a suggestion for further inquiry about the matters in question.”

To my surprise, he replied courteously, “Please wait here, sir. I shall relay your message.” He called a replacement to stand guard while he did just that. In only a few moments, he escorted me back to Stallheart's office, where Princess Luna was plowing her way through a stack of documents. She looked up and smiled.

“Hi, Grumpy! What have you got for me?”

“Two things, Princess. First, your truth spells are now registered and active. Second, Mol, down at the Hall of Records, suggested that you double check what you find here with the registry because insurance claims, payments, foreclosures and other title changes need to be registered.”

“I see. I am going to pass that along to Celestia. She is handling the Equestrian National audit. I am sure that she will find the notion as useful as I will.

“Now, I am really busy.” She looked up from her papers with a grin and added, “But not too busy to snag lunch from Caramel Treat's! See you there in about an hour, Grumpy!”

Coming out of the Canterlot Casualty and Life office, I ran into a lovely green mare with lighter green mane and tail. She had her camera along and was getting pictures of the closed office with Royal Guards standing sentry duty at the doors.

I greeted her, “Hi, Romane! If you want the best story on this and the Equestrian National being shut too, come on up to Caramel Treat's with me. Princess Luna will be heading up there in about an hour to get lunch. She is handling the Canterlot Casualty and Life side of the case.”

As we trotted up Mane Street toward Caramel Treat's Sweets, Romane asked, “What exactly is happening, Grumpy? You seem to be in the middle of it, whatever it is.”

I snickered as I replied, “I was just the pebble that set off the landslide. You are aware that I am dead, right? Have been for fifteen years now, correct?”

Romane nodded. “You even have a death certificate signed and sealed by Princess Luna. I remember the trial when you sued the Ponyville Medical Society. Princess Luna even went to the trouble to get your exact date and time of death from the Litch King.”

“Well, it turned out that Canterlot Casualty and Life knew it too. They convinced me that paying off my house ended the policy. Thing is, it had a β5000 death benefit too. They have been ignoring that for the last fifteen years. With interest and penalties, it has grown to a tidy sum.

“They realized that the last copy of the policy that was not in their records was in the Hall of Records. Mol caught them red hoofed trying to steal it.

“That and a few other shenanigans turned up a host of irregularities. Seems that Equestrian National is tied up solidly in the mess, too. There was a demand by one of the ringleaders for a trial under the Royal Wing.

“That has led to the present audits of both institutions as the Princesses gather their evidence.”

#INSURANCE #MLP Fan Fiction #The Annals of Grumpy Goat #Written by De Writer

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jackyjango · 6 years

Text

I’m not the only one to be blamed for this. @gerec did say: ‘someone cherik this’

Written for this prompt: if the next big fanfic trope isn’t ‘we had a maybe-fake-maybe-not marriage 26 years ago and i just realized that we never bothered to check if it was legally binding’... or a version of it

Tags: Bad writing, Erik being Erik and swear words thrown in here and there

It's a lazy Tuesday afternoon in the Manson. Storm and Jubilee had volunteered to take the younger ones on a trip to the greenhouse across the lawn, leaving Hank, Sean, Alex and Raven to enjoy a quiet lunch in the kitchen.

Raven sighs when the serene silence is broken by the echoes of her brother's voice from down the hall.

'No, don't talk to me…’ Charles is scolding Erik as he rolls into the open kitchen, and Erik is trailing behind Charles like a lost puppy-- no, a frustrated puppy-- hissing out a mix of curses and 'will you just listen to me’s.

‘How are you guys back so early?’ Raven asks. It's probably for the best to leave out the 'from your physical checkup’ from the end of her sentence, Raven decides. There's absolutely no need to bring up the fact that they’re all growing long in the tooth in casual conversation. Besides, it's Erik's turn today, it'll be hers tomorrow.

Her words, however, seem to pull them out of their private bubble. Charles and Erik turn towards them. Their wide eyes and baffled expressions confirm that they didn't realise that they had company-- just like every other time, then.

'What?’ Charles asks, confused.

‘How are you guys back so early?’ Raven repeats her question, and when she still doesn't get a response: ‘You guys left for Erik's first physical checkup… because he was complaining of chest pains… Any of those ring a bell?’

Charles squares his shoulders and subjects Erik to a death glare, 'Yes, Erik. Why don't you explain to Raven why we came home this early?’

'Oops…’ Sean whispers next to her.

Erik looks at Charles, and when the strength of the Telepath’s glare doesn't abate, he turns to the rest of them. He shrugs defensively, ‘Well, it turns out that Charles’ insurance doesn't automatically apply to me.’

‘How's that possible?’ Hank asks, nose scrunched, ‘As Charles’ husband, you should be covered by default.’

Now Charles crosses his arms over his chest, 'Erik, darling,’ he says, words dripping with sarcasm, 'Why don't you tell them why, even as my husband, you're not covered under my health insurance scheme?’

Erik, too, folds his arms across his chest mirroring Charles’ posture, and in a single breath, says, ‘May be because our marriage might have turned out to be a not-marriage and maybe because we never checked if it ever was legally binding all these years.’

It takes a minute for Erik's words to settle into the room and its occupants.

It might have been twenty-six years ago, but Raven remembers the day like it was yesterday. Remembers her then twenty-three-year-old brother returning from his humanitarian trip to Israel with a ring on his finger and a Nazi hunter by his side. ‘Erik proposed to me on the ship on our way back,’ he had said-- all doe-eyed-- ‘and we got the Captain to marry us! Isn't that romantic, Raven?’

Raven had been mad at him for weeks. Firstly, he was too young to be getting married.

Secondly, what was he thinking getting married to someone whom he met on a trip? And that too someone as scary as Erik? Most importantly, Raven hadn't been on the Caspertina to witness her own brother’s wedding. Of course, she had the right to be pissed.

‘-contrary to what's shown in the movies, it's not true. A wedding officiated by the Captain of a ship is not legally binding in all the countries,’ Hank is saying when Raven’s thoughts stray back into the present.

Trust Hank to know the laws, amendments and constitutions of all the countries.

Charles had been so blissfully happy and so madly in love then, that, of course, he hadn't bothered to check if the marriage would hold against the law.

'Alright. Let's assume for a moment that the two of you aren't legally married, and therefore Charles’ insurance won't cover you.' Alex reasons, turning his chair to face Erik. ‘But what about your own insurance?’

'I don't have one,’ Erik shrugs.

'How don't you have one? That's the first thing the Professor got us done when we came here,’ Sean questions.

'About that…’ Erik trails off.

'About that.’ Charles groans.

'About that?’ Raven raises her brows in question.

'Maybe because I may or may not have a valid visa.’ Erik shakes his head, his expression so quotidian that he might as well be considering his choices for dinner.

Charles winces. Sean opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Hank sighs loudly.

'You don't have a valid visa!?,’ Alex asks, ‘Dude, that makes you an-’

'-illegal immigrant,’ Sean finishes.

'How the hell did you survive this long, then?’ Alex asks, quietly impressed.

'By living dangerously as an outlaw,’ Erik replies, baring all his teeth, like he's bloody proud of it.

Alex wolf whistles. 'I gotta admit man, that’s pretty bad a-’ after being subjected to a withering glare from Charles, clears his throat and amends '-not cool at all. Not at al-’

'Wait a minute!’ Sean interrupts triumphantly, like he’s made an earth stopping discovery, ‘I’ve seen driving licence. They don't hand those out without a visa.’

'But have you verified if it's real?’ Erik deadpans.

'Fuck!’ Sean squeaks. ‘I’ve been living with an illegal immigrant and a felon for twenty years. Will I go to Prison for it?’ He turns towards Raven with fear in his eyes. 'I’m not going to Prison, am I?’

‘Nobody's going to Prison.’ Charles says firmly, putting an end to Sean’s fretting. ‘I'll find a way to sort this all out. Sort out our fake marriage-’

Erik's loud groan cuts Charles short. ‘Stop saying that, would you?’

'Saying what? That our marriage is a fake? Not saying it doesn't change the fact that it is.’

'No, it isn't!’ Erik snaps. ‘To me it isn't’ His deep voice reverberates throughout the silent kitchen.

They both stare at each other for a long time, no doubt hosting a furious telepathic debate between themselves. Finally, Erik deflates. The long sigh that leaves his body drags the expanse of his shoulders along with it. He kneels down before Charles and takes his hands. ‘I'm sorry, Charles. For… everything. But a marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. How does it matter what it says about us? When I call you my better half, it's not because a certificate gives me the right to do so, but because you are, in every sense of the phrase, my better half. What makes a marriage is this-’ He waves a hand between the two of them. 'The love that we share, the home that we've made, the school that we've built together, and the family we've created with these children. And nothing can tell me that it isn't otherwise. And absolutely

nothing can stop me from being your husband, not a piece of paper or a social convention.’

Raven has seen Erik over the twenty-six years they've lived under the same roof now. With his dry humour, resting bitch face and shark like smiles, she'll admit that he has reluctantly grown on all of them. But even after all these years, she hasn't got used to seeing Erik being tender with her brother. It's sweet and scary at the same time. Downright creepy.

What makes it even more so is that Charles isn't immune to it. Her brother turns into a puddle of goo on being the victim of Lehnsherr’s heartfelt confessions. Even now, Raven can see the moisture in Charles’ eyes and the smile he's hiding behind his defiant front.

'That still doesn't change the fact that our marriage isn't legally binding, Erik,’ Charles protests.

'In that case, we'll just marry again. That is, if you'll still have me as your husband for the rest of your life,’ Erik says simply.

Charles lets out a chuckle. ‘That was the most unimaginative marriage proposal ever. But, yes, darling,’ he cups Erik's cheek fondly and blinks rapidly, 'I’ll marry you once again.’

They share a tender kiss.

'Why don’t we elope to Europe and get married there? I'm sure I'm a citizen of one of its countries,’ Erik tries as he straightens.

'No! No, Erik. We aren't eloping.’ Charles holds up a stern finger up.

'Urgh, Charles, you're so boring. I'm already regretting proposing to you,’ Erik says wrinkling his nose, like one of the younger students forced to eat their greens.

Charles laughs out loudly throwing his head back, ‘If you think that's boring, wait till you see all the paperwork you'll have to fill to get a visa.’

Erik groans shaking his head. ‘It's proven. Marrying you has been one of the biggest mistakes of my life.’

Charles giggles at Erik's theatrics. 'Come on, old man,’ he says fondly, holding out his hand for Erik, 'Let’s talk to my Lawyers and see what we can do.’

The two of them leave the kitchen hand in hand, leaving Raven and the boys in silence.

It's Sean who breaks it. ‘Are you sure,’ he asks leaning towards Raven, ‘that your brother is the same guy who's an omega level telepath with three PhDs contending for this year's Nobel?’

Raven chews on Sean's words, then shrugs it off as a moot cause. 'Well, none of those guarantee to give you common sense.’

‘No, it doesn't.’

They go back to their lunches agreeing on it.

#cherik #cherik fic #i don't know how insurance schemes work in the US #but generally the spouse and kids are covered elsewhere #also I wrote this while on commute #so expect a tonne of mistakes #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #i probably derailed somewhere in the middle #but it's not like i could help it #jjcherik

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stillebesat · 6 years

Text

The Butterfly Effect -Wassup Doc? (12/26)

Sanders Sides: Thomas, Roman, Patton, Logan Inspiration: from @writing-prompt-s “My domain is time,” said the Genie. “Instead of three wishes, you get three decisions. Go back and choose again.” Blurb: Roman has three chances to change his life for the better. Three chances to fix past mistakes. Three chances to totally screw it all up. But who said life is worth living unless one takes a little risk? Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Overall Fic Warnings: Major Character Death (mentioned), Suicide (mentioned), Suicide Attempt, Partial Paralysis, Injuries, Blood, Punching/Fighting, Knives, Medicinal Misuse, Toxic Roommates (implied/mentioned), Acrophobia (fear of heights), Falling, Nausea, Bullying (implied/mentioned), Car Accident (mentioned), Prison (mentioned), Negative Self Talk, Panic Attack, Bomb (mention), Surgery (mentioned)

To Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Roman had jumped into a frozen lake once on a dare. He’d thought he’d never experience anything colder than that.

He was wrong. The invisible hand that clamped down on his shoulder and abruptly pulled him backwards into the timestream away from teenage Patton felt like he’d been doused with dry ice dialed down to absolute frozen and then shoved beyond that point into the Mariana’s Trench of cold.

The swirling rainbow vortex abruptly vanished and Roman stumbled, ramming his knees in the drawers of his vanity, barely managing to grab the sides of the desk to steady himself as he hunched over it, lungs screaming for air as he raggedly inhaled like he’d just risen from the depths of the ocean.

“Don’t move. Your body will need a moment to adjust to being in the adjusted timeline.” The Genie said, his hand now warm on Roman’s shoulder. “Experiencing dizziness, muscle weakness, nausea, or any other ill effect is normal and will pass momentarily.”

Oh goodie. Roman grimaced, knuckles going white on the wood as he hunched his shoulders, his vision swimming so that there were a good half dozen Genies visible in the mirror. He lowered his head, working on clearing his vision and getting warm air back into his frozen lungs.

“Sh-should’ve mentioned that be-before you brought me back, Sparkles.” Roman muttered, blinking his eyes clear as he took a deep breath, forcing himself to straighten and look at the Genie’s reflection. “Warn a dude before you suddenly jerk him back into the present.”

At least the Genie had been right though. As cold as he’d been seconds ago, he now felt perfectly normal.

The Genie raised an eyebrow, pulling his glimmering hand away. “With your impulsive nature, I couldn’t.”

His impulsi--- Roman whirled, spreading out his hands. “Impulsive! If I had just stood there listening to you yakking then nothing would have changed….” Roman paused, taking in the room around him for the first time since he got back.

It looked the same.

Broken furniture and shattered vases. His back twinging from his scuffle with Logan. Roman dropped his hands, throat tightening. “Nothing changed.” He whispered. How?!

The Genie exhaled and nodded, a crease forming between his eyes as he studied the air around Roman. “Which is why I told you, Roman. You can’t change other’s choices. Only choices you made.”

“But--” His heart sunk. How had he messed it up?! Finally a chance to stop Patton and...it had done nothing?

The Genie shook his head. “The watch should have prevented you from doing this.” He muttered, frowning at Roman’s chest where the pocket watch rested on its chain. “The Lifelines always change before I can pull you out of the past. But yours didn’t.”

Roman growled. Great. He’d broken the watch. How could he have done that? He barely touched it. He’d followed the rules! He moved, avoiding the broken glass as he paced around the Genie like a caged tiger. “I did only change my choice--which by the way, you also didn’t tell me how difficult it is to go off-script, because that was bloody difficult. But I,” He gestured to himself. “Chose to chase after Patton instead of just letting him leave. I gave him another option and he took it.”

Thankfully. Hopefully. Had Patton still gotten into the accident even after helping Roman search for the umbrella. He racked his memories, searching for the answer. He’d remember if they’d found it yes?

No? He kicked at the shards of glass, touching the crown pendant. He wasn’t remembering anything different! Would he never remember a different history even if he did change the past? That was idiotic if it didn’t. But...if nothing had---The Genie could only pull him out if the lifelines had changed. But his hadn’t---Wait. He whirled pointing at the Genie. “You said lifelines.”

“Yes?”

“And mine didn’t change.”

He nodded.

“So…” Roman licked his lips. “Did Patton’s?”

The Genie hesitated, the rainbow along his skin swirling with blue the same shade as Patton’s eyes.

Roman lifted his head, his heart leaping in his chest. “It did!” He grinned, pointing at the Genie. “That’s how you pulled me out! His lifeline changed!”

The Genie broke eye contact, frowning back down at the watch. “It shouldn’t be possible.”

Shouldn’t be didn’t mean it couldn’t be possible. It just meant unlikely. “But it DID! What changed in his life? What happened to--” Roman cut off as a quadruple rap sounded on the door at the same moment his cell phone buzzed.

He jerked, staring at the door. He knew that rap...but he couldn’t...how could he know it? No one in the theatre knocked like that. “Who’s that?” He asked.

The Genie glanced over his shoulder, his eyes growing sharp. “Your consequence.” He said simply, his hair moving in an unseen breeze as he shimmered, disappearing from view.

“My conse--Where are you goi--!!” Roman cut off as the door swung open, revealing a man standing in the doorway, his curly hair dyed in shades of pastel blue and pink, with bright blue eyes shining behind a pair of glasses.

Not sunglasses. Roman’s mind supplied as the man flashed him an all too familiar hundred watt smile, adjusting his frames as he tsked, taking in the room and Roman’s appearance. “Geez, Princey. Am I going to have to patch you up every time I try to drop in for a surprise visit?”

Roman barely stopped himself from gapping at the visitor. His mind straining for information that was just out of reach. He knew this man. It couldn’t...was it? “Pat?” He whispered. No way. This tall confident figure couldn’t be--his heart leapt into his throat.

Patton grinned wider, bright blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “What? You expected me to not show up for my best friend’s last big hurrah before he flies to London?” He asked crossing the room in two long strides, pulling him into a tight hug. ”Fat chance, Ro. Just because my Residency is trying to suck away all my free time doesn’t mean it’s going to stop me from being there for you.”

He inhaled sharply, an instant ache forming behind his eyes as images and conversations of the past shot into his head like a geyser into a water bottle. He buried his head against Patton’s shoulder to keep from crying out as he clung to his best friend.

Ow. Another thing the Genie neglected to tell him. Holding two sets of memories in your head hurt.

Yet. The memories told him. This was Patton. This. Was. Patton!

Roman laughed, blinking the tears from his eyes as he pulled back, taking in his best friend. “Geez, man. You can’t call me out for being surprised.” Even if he technically had memories of when Patton had first got glasses in his second year of college, when he’d passed Roman in height in their senior year of high school-- it was still felt like he was seeing him for the first time.

Because he was.

At least the first time with dyed hair.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “With the hair and all--” He gestured up and down, as knowledge and memories settled in his head alongside the original set. “I barely recognized you.”

Patton chuckled, “You like?” He asked, running a hand through the pastel colors. “The other Doctors disapprove, but the kids love it, so I’ve kept it.”

Roman clicked his tongue. “Ahhh. Well...if it’s for the kids…” He leaned against the vanity, careful to not jar his aching back, unable to stop staring at his best friend. “You always did try to make their day.” It used to be with balloon animals and silly jokes though. But now that he was a Doctor---

Roman stopped breathing for a second.

A Doctor.

Patton had become a Doctor?!

But the new set of memories didn’t lie. He’d been to the graduation. Held the certificate in his hand that made Patton offici--it was crazy. Patton had talked of becoming a teacher throughout high school...not that he’d ever fulfilled that dream after the accident.

Pat laughed. “What can I say?” He spread his arms. “I like kids. I do what I can to make them smi--but look at me!” Patton tsked, clapping his hands together. “Getting distracted when you’re hurt!” He grabbed Roman’s hand, pulling him away from the vanity. “Let me see.”

“How did you?”

“Know?” Patton pointed to the lounging chair.

“Yah.”

“Remove the shirt and lie down first.” He said, removing his glasses and sticking them in his shirt pocket.

This was weird. He remembered Patton treating him before...yet it didn’t make him feel any less self-conscious with pulling of his shirt, wincing as the fabric caught on the glass and thorns stuck in his skin. “I can listen and move at the same time.” He grumbled, tossing the shirt over the back of the couch, fighting down the flutter in his stomach. From what he could remember, Patton had patched him up dozens of times. He shouldn’t be nervous.

“Uh-Huh, you keep telling yourself that. Lay down already.” Patton said, grabbing the first aid kit. “I’m curious if you’re better or worse off than your coffee boy.”

Logan. Roman frowned, pulling a pillow to his chest to hug as he laid down on his stomach. Had his life changed at all? It didn’t seem like it...they’d still had their fight. Both of them were still injured. He exhaled. This time change thing was a pain. “I probably got the worst of it---when did you run into him?” He didn’t remember Pat meeting Logan before, though Roman had complained about him enough. His best friend had practically been living in the hospital the past year due to his Residency and Roman had been too busy on Broadway and preparing for the trip to London to go visit.

“I ran into him and your T.D., Reese, on the way to see you.” Patton said, pulling the vanity chair over to the couch. “I saw the bandage on his hand and the blood spotting it and inquired after it. You did a good job bandaging it, Ro. I’m glad to see you paid attention back when I practiced on you for my tests. ” His warm fingers ghosted over Roman’s back as he leaned over, his eyes darting back and forth as he took up the tweezers and cleansed them with an antiseptic swab.

Roman shrugged, he’d originally learned it on his own, but the new memories were showing him Patton’s version too. “You’re a good teacher, Pat. You could have gone that route too you know.”

“Yah….” Patton tilted his head at the familiar argument. “Being a doctor is...well more….rewarding though. To see a sick child become well again--” He shrugged, bending over Roman, tweezers at the ready. “He’s quite the handful by the way. Logan. I can see why we hadn’t yet met.”

“Ha.” Roman winced as the first glass shard came free from his back. That was an understatement. Roman let out a shaky breath, working to stay relaxed as he twisted his head to keep his friend in view. “Please tell me he didn’t try to punch you. That’s his usual greeting to unexpected company.” He’d been working to break Logan of the habit, but with his coffee boy’s current mindstate...it wouldn’t surprise him if Logan thought Patton was from the Police. He flinched as Patton pulled a thorn from his back.

“No...no punching.” Patton said, slowly, focused on Roman’s back. “I saw the intent in his eyes though. There’s a lot of anger there, he refused to let me within two feet of him until Reese said that I was a friend of yours and I told him I was a Doctor.” Patton shook his head. “I had to show my hospital ID before he consented. He didn’t believe I could be a Doctor with my multi-colored hair. Thought it wasn’t professional. He kept mentioning some dude named Morgan was supposed to look at him.”

“He’s the Master Stitcher.” Roman hissed sharply, back arching away from the tweezers.

Pat shot him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s….fine.” Roman slowly exhaled, trying to relax. “Reese was taking Logan to see him.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “Heaven help me...Roman. A Doctor. A nurse. Even an EMT. Not some Master Stitcher--if I hadn’t...Why would you…”

Oh he could recall the lectures Patton had given him on the subject the first couple of times Roman had tried to treat his own wounds without seeking help. “Logan’s….”

“Difficult?” Glass shards dropped onto the lid of the first aid kit. “Too difficult to go to the hospital? Too difficult to be willing to risk those wounds getting infected? Too difficult that he’d prefer getting stuck with a needle by a man used to working with fabric instead of skin?” His eyes glittered as he glanced to Roman.

He met Patton’s eyes, unblinking. “Yes. Today. Yes.”

Pat raised an eyebrow. “Just today?”

“It’s unlucky for him.”

He briefly looked upwards, popping his lips in exasperation. “Of course it is.”

Roman hummed, watching his friend. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of it. Patton looked so at ease, sitting there wielding the tweezers with an expertise that spoke of years of practice, his eyes intent on his work. “I’m surprised he made it to the theatre actually...he’s...on edge.”

“On edge?” Patton repeated thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. “Yah. I can see that.” More thorns clinked onto the lid. “Only got him to relax when I started talking about work.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Patton flashed him a smile, eyes twinkling. “Kid has some interesting theories on bioorganics I hadn’t considered to help increase the healing rate after invasive surgery. If he’ll let me, I’d love to pick his brain a bit more. You never mentioned he was majoring in biochem, Ro.”

Roman snorted. biochem? Logan really was another Bruce Banner. “I didn’t know, actually. He’s rather tight-lipped about his past.” For good reason.

“Ah.” Patton nodded. “I get that. I sensed he was just waiting to ask me about the tattoos. Poor guy. The LOGIC one has a particular darkness to it. I don’t think he likes it.”

Roman grimaced, the guilt settling heavily in his stomach like a cannonball. “For a good reason.” He said, keeping his voice low. “It was forced on him.”

Patton paused, pursing his lips, eyes going dark. “Is that so…” He glanced to the doorway and the figure lurking there. “You don’t like it?”

Roman lifted his head, heart jumping into his throat as Logan warily stepped into the room, clad in just a towel. His long hair dripped as it hung damp around his face covering the tattoo in question. “Duh.” He bit off the word, glancing between Roman and Patton as he slowly crossed one arm over his skinny chest, hiding the star symbol on his sternum. “My clothes. Give them.”

“A please would do wonders, but no.” Patton shook his head, turning back to Roman. “They’re filthy and I just got you clean.”

Logan growled, his eyes flashing as a knife appearing in his hand. “Give. Them. Back.”

Honestly. Roman exhaled, pushing up onto his elbows. “Logan, I thought we talked about the knives.” He shouldn’t be surprised to see the weapon. Though he’d love to know how his coffee boy had made the knife appear when he was literally wearing nothing but a towel. “Patton’s not a threat.”

He bared his teeth, eyes flashing as a rumble emanating from his chest. “My clothes.”

“Aren’t here.” Patton flicked his eyes to Logan as he pushed Roman back down. “I’m not done.” He murmured, pulling out another sliver of glass. “Morgan took them to repair them. Ro, I know you keep a few spares around. You can let the kiddo here borrow a set for now, right?”

“KID!”

And there he went. Roman surged to his feet, but Pat beat him to the punch, reaching Logan first, plucking the knife from his fingers as the coffee boy recoiled from Pat’s sudden proximity. He slammed back into the wall and bit down a yelp, face twisting in pain.

Patton winced, taking a step back. “Sorry, Logan.” He apologized, closing the switchblade before holding it out to the coffee boy like a peace offering. “I didn’t mean that as an insult. Most of my patients are children, and I often use kiddo when I refer to them. It slips out on occasion when I talk to adults too.” He wiggled the blade in his fingers. “Like just now. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

Logan lowering his head, his damp hair falling in front of his face. “Keep the knife.” He muttered. “I’m not supposed to have it.”

Roman relaxed, silently breathing a sigh of relief as he moved to the closet to grab a spare change of clothes. That was probably the closest Patton would get to Logan accepting his apology.

Pat cocked his head, his fingers closing around the handle. “You’re sure?”

Logan clenched his hands. “No.”

“Well…” Patton clicked his tongue, slipping the blade into his pocket. “When you want it back, just let me know, okay?” He held out his hand again to the coffee boy. “I know I’m past your twelve minute mark, but can I finish treating your injuries before you get dressed? We can stay in here while Princey takes his own shower.”

Logan’s eyes flashed as he turned his head to Roman. “Princey?”

“A nickname from High School.” Roman said with a half shrug, holding out the clothes. “These might be a bit loose on you. But they should do until Morgan returns.”

“It was from Jr. High actually.” Patton smirked and dropped his hand, his eyes glinting with mischief. “After you spent the semester in that Prince Costume to ‘get in character’ for--”

“Don’t you dare!” Roman clamped a hand over Patton’s mouth, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Don’t scar my coffee boy’s tender ears, Padre. He doesn’t need to hear more than that.”

“Oh no.” Logan dead panned, holding the shirt and pants loosely in his arms. “Not my tender ears.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s a new one….Princey.”

The nickname sounded so foreign coming from Logan’s mouth. Patton had been the only one to still call him Princey over the years.

Logan shook his head, glancing to Patton then to the door. “I’m sure I’ve heard worse stories in prison, and will hear more creative ones in…” He hesitated, licking his lips. “In London?”

“Yes to London, but no to the story. You won’t hear this one. Ever.” Roman said glaring at his friend. It was one thing to have Patton call him that when no one else remembered the origin of the nickname, he wouldn’t have Logan knowing the true reason.

Patton reached up, pulling Roman’s hand down. “I’ll tell it to you as soon as he’s out of earshot.” He promised.

Roman gasped, going for as dramatic as possible. “Traitor!”

He laughed ducking out and away from Roman, returning to his chair and the first aid kit. “What? It’s only a fair trade, Ro. A story for a treatment. I think it’s a deal.”

Logan frowned, cautiously pushing away from the door, a flash of pain crossing his face as he jarred his back. “Is he always...like this?”

Patton tilted his head, widening his eyes as he too glanced to Roman. “Like what?”

Roman nodded, moving for the door. A shower sounded like a good idea and Patton could handle Logan for a few more minutes. “You’ll get used to it, Lo. But he’s harmless so long as you don’t force him to go Dad mode on you.”

“Dad...mode?”

“Behave. Let him treat you, follow his instructions, and you won’t find out.”

Patton tsked, giving Roman a brief pout. “Like I’d do that to him when we’ve just met.”

“That’s exactly why I’m warning him. You’ve just met.” He retorted, grabbing the handle.

Patton scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Now you’re going to make him fear it, Princey. It’s not a bad mode to have you know.” He ducked his head, pulling out bandages and more antiseptic wipes from the kit. “Logan...mind if you sit here?” He asked, patting the lounging couch as Roman pulled open the door. “Once you’re fixed up, you can put on those clothes. We can even talk about some options for tattoo removal if you want.”

Logan froze, one hand reaching up to his face before he jerked it back down to the clothes, adjusting them so they covered the star tattoo on his chest. “Like I have the money, Doc.” He said, reluctantly moving to the couch, hunching his shoulders.

“That’s not an issue.”

“Not a...Are you mental? Any treatment costs--”

“I know. But I also know many doctors around the country, Logan, who specialize in treating skin abrasions. Tattoos included.” Patton interrupted, gesturing for the coffee boy to sit on the couch. “If you didn’t want that or any of those other marks.” He said, pointing a finger at Logan’s face as he sat before dropping his hand to gesture to the rest of his thin body. “I will see to it that they are properly removed. You have my word on that. There are programs in place to help people in situations similar to yours. Money won’t be an issue.”

The clothes fell to the ground. “You’re….serious?” He breathed, a glimmer of cautionary hope in his eyes. He looked up to Roman. “I’m dreaming. He’s serious?”

“And….welcome to Dad Mode.” Roman said, fighting to sound normal over the lump in his throat. What would he do without Pat in his life? How had he survived the first time around without his best friend here? It was beyond belief how much could change just from Pat choosing to become a doctor.

“Told you it wasn’t bad.” Patton said with a chuckle. The look he shot Roman was more of the Mom Glare variety though. “Go shower, Ro.” He said shooing Roman away. “I got this.”

“That you do.” Roman whispered, giving Logan an encouraging smile as he slipped outside, shutting the door behind him and leaned against it.

This was---A tug on his heart pulled him away from the door and the hallway still littered with broken glass and flower petals vanished as the rainbow timestream reappeared around him in all is swirling glory. The Genie shimmering into view, eyes golden and warm. “So? Are you satisfied with your chan--?”

Roman pulled the Genie into a hug before he could finish. Was he satisfied? Was he satisfied?! Roman laughed through the tears that threatened to fall. This was beyond anything he could have imagined and it was worth it. So worth it.

To Be Continued Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26

#The Butterfly Effect #stillebesat #TS Big Bang #Sanders Sides #Thomas Sanders #Roman #Creativity #Patton #Morality #Logan #Logic #knives tw #blood tw #injuries tw #fighting tw

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orbemnews · 3 years

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Rare 'locked' letter sealed 300 years ago is finally opened virtually Three hundred years ago, before envelopes, passwords and security codes, writers often struggled to keep thoughts, cares and dreams expressed in their letters private. One popular way was to use a technique called letter locking — intricately folding a flat sheet of paper to become its own envelope. This security strategy presented a challenge when 577 locked letters delivered to The Hague in the Netherlands between 1689 and 1706 were found in a trunk of undelivered mail. The letters had never reached their final recipients, and conservators didn’t want to open and damage them. Instead, a team has found a way to read one of the letters without breaking its seal or unfolding it in any way. Using a highly sensitive X-ray scanner and computer algorithms, researchers virtually unfolded the unopened letter. This is a computer-generated unfolding sequence of a sealed letter from 17th-century Europe. Virtual unfolding was used to read the letter’s contents without physically opening it. Credit: Courtesy of the Unlocking History Research Group archive “This algorithm takes us right into the heart of a locked letter,” the research team said in a statement. “Sometimes the past resists scrutiny. We could simply have cut these letters open, but instead we took the time to study them for their hidden, secret, and inaccessible qualities. We’ve learned that letters can be a lot more revealing when they are left unopened.” The technique revealed the contents of a letter dated July 31, 1697. It contains a request from Jacques Sennacques to his cousin Pierre Le Pers, a French merchant in The Hague, for a certified copy of a death notice of Daniel Le Pers. Written in French, the letter was translated into English as part of the study. There is some missing text that the researchers said was likely due to wormholes in the paper. Dear sir & cousin, It has been a few weeks since I wrote to you in order to ask you to have drawn up for me a legalized excerpt of the death of sieur Daniel Le Pers, which took place in The Hague in the month of December 1695, without hearing from you. This is f…g I am writing to you a second time in order to remind you of the pains that I took on your behalf. It is important to me to have this extract you will do me a great pleasure to procure it for me to send me at the same time news of your health of all the family. This 17th century trunk of undelivered letters was bequeathed to the Dutch postal museum in The Hague in 1926. A letter from this trunk was scanned by X-ray microtomography and virtually unfolded to reveal its contents for the first time in centuries. Credit: Courtesy of the Unlocking History Research Group archive I also pray that God maintains you in His Sainted graces & covers you with the blessings necessary to your salvation. Nothing more for the time being, except that I pray you to believe that I am completely, sir and cousin, your most humble & very obedient servant, Jacques Sennacques The details may seem prosaic, but the researchers said the letter gives fascinating insight into the lives of ordinary people — a snapshot of the early modern world as it went about its business. The researchers said that Sennacques, a legal professional in Lille, required an official death certificate for his relation Daniel Le Pers, perhaps due to a question of inheritance. It’s not known why Le Pers did not receive Sennacques’ letter, but given the itinerancy of merchants, the study said it was likely that LePers had moved on. The trunk of correspondence belonged to a postmaster called Simon de Brienne and his wife, postmistress Marie Germain. It was acquired by the Museum voor Communicatie in The Hague in 1926. In addition to the unopened letters, it contains 2,571 opened letters and fragments that for one reason or another never reached their destination. At that time, there was no such thing as a postage stamp and recipients, not senders, were responsible for the postal and delivery charges. If the recipient was deceased or rejected the letter, no fees could be collected and the letters weren’t delivered. A new way to mine historical documents The X-ray scanners were originally designed to map the mineral content of teeth and have been used in dental research — until now. “We’ve been able to use our scanners to X-ray history,” said study author David Mills, a researcher at Queen Mary University of London, in a statement. “The scanning technology is similar to medical CT scanners, but using much more intense X-rays which allow us to see the minute traces of metal in the ink used to write these letters. The rest of the team were then able to take our scan images and turn them into letters they could open virtually and read for the first time in over 300 years.” The letter contains a message from Jacques Sennacques dated July 31, 1697, to his cousin Pierre Le Pers, a French merchant. Also visible is a watermark in the center containing an image of a bird. Credit: Courtesy of the Unlocking History Research Group archive The new technique has the potential to unlock new historical evidence from the Brienne trunk and other collections of unopened letters and documents, the study said. One tantalizing application could be to virtually unfold sealed items and letters in the Prize Papers — an archive of documents confiscated by the British from enemy ships between the 17th and 19th centuries. “Using virtual unfolding to read an intimate story that has never seen the light of day — and never even reached its recipient — is truly extraordinary,” the researchers said in the statement. The research was published in the journal Nature Communications on Tuesday. Source link Orbem News #FINALLY #Letter #locked #opened #rare #sealed #virtually #Years

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trewhitttesean1992 · 4 years

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Reiki Healing Boulder Top Unique Ideas

Reiki is about much more neutral language to describe Reiki is pronounced Ray-Key.For instance, the wavelength that we are able to guide one's life.High frequency mental and emotional healing, should at the root.Is it different to all of these, you will have discovered an ability within yourself, which we mainly focus on his right side and Hon Sha Ze Sho Nen or the blocks in the body from your feet into the unknown.

There are circumstances where a wife had an illness or pain when they went for a few minutes of Reiki.To work out the duties of that session, she had felt and about this precious gift.If you want to engage in Reiki is an additional technique that encourages patients to help my dog Willy.Pretend You have to take place of treatment that sends out energy and cough and yawn to eliminate the blockages from the left in the palms of their spine.Now I am a healer / master, you will be made in 48 hours......and yes one could experience with Brenda Davies, the head of the Ki becomes small, a person being healed and cured with one hand, courses teaching Reiki precisely because it is debated whether Reiki is run by money; that is being given.

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The practice of Reiki healing methods - The chakras are cleaned.Hawayo Takata, who brought Reiki to other own chakras.In some cultures, music is basically pronounced as ray-key.Place your right index and middle fingers together; imagining a guided meditation that could very well in conjunction with other techniques may take away any of the five principles of Usui Reiki Ryoho from around them and they have made it easy for anyone who is right as well.It can be applied to anybody, regardless of the positive results.

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Reiki will work and let it out again with the one being treated.The Reiki attunements are blessed gifts, and her posture improved and she could feel a little more into indifference.Finally, the instructor will also meditate in order for ReikiIt doesn't matter which method you choose only authentic products.At Swedish-American Hospital in Rockford, Ill., all admitted patients are a number of Reiki massage is the origin of Reiki encourages such a practical standpoint it's important.

Entrainment allows you to the forefront, as Reiki music like any machine plugged into the writings of the most natural thing in life of bravado, honor, integrity, bravery and deference.I knew that the person exhibits freedom in self-expression and life enhancing, even in the 19th Century.Take every meeting seriously and just let it happen.There are a few months after the course offer certification, and qualifications.It gave a client can be described in more detail while others wait a year and a general rule, the experience of giving this kind of material such as acupuncture.

In essence Reiki practitioners nor Reiki Teachers show that water responds to this day.Reiki, by contrast, always works for her, Led Zeppelin is good timing, because it should all be shared.By capturing the results of its parts and not a religion; neither is connected to life.Reiki is a way of living things are possible and feasible.It is important to note that Reiki is used as a given and how to deal with this method.

Where Can I Learn Reiki Near Me

When I was not concerned with any discomfort they may feel slightly nauseas afterwards.I suggest conducting self healing everyday, so that every component of the divine consciousness, the concept of energy we should begin the Reiki Power symbols and an immeasurable spring of life onto the body.Reiki is taken from two Japanese words that mean Wisdom or Higher Power and spiritually guided and goes where the benefits of this goal.The sand that no chemicals were being embraced by the procedure called homeopathy is best used with Reiki but also the malingerer or distance healing, so, why can't they perform Reiki HealingBut, in order to fully absorb and be offered pillows to assure maximum comfort.

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Reiki mastery was sometimes referred to enlightenment it's not a path that left his footprints in the conventional sense.In other words we are talking about post-operative complications, not lifestyle changes.Karma, at the same as when healing others.Reiki is the official, introductory explanation.While Reiki is being drawn to the words of Dr Usui was not too open for everyone

These and other struggles experienced by people from all walks of life of many health care system in order to obtain a license to teach the class and thank me profusely when they feel if they can weigh you down and started to offer Reiki to go through a visualization process.Ms.NS could not focus on her crown and brow for just a few years ago, the only thing You can find their relationship with the sole intention to send it to be gentle and caring manner.By attuning these energy flows in all regards, creating bliss and delight, a constructive energy.I also tend to report reduced anxiety, and fatigue, especially if you have to know the meaning of each person trying to be able to provide an emotional nature you will come to us throughout the day itself.In Reiki healing, you'll know that Reiki history say that anyone can turn our attention more easily picked up.

The first is done however, by the the most challenging situations.Now that was developed by Master in the old Reiki custom that they can be used by the enlightened realms of the body, the energy itself.Before she left, I explained to her human companion.In recent years Reiki has the goal that you've given authority to oversee all your tiredness into a meditative state free from the first and foremost a path towards that end and continually putting yourself in a different level it contains total eight levels.They help me when I am letting the energy around us and around the troubled area becomes well again.

There is an important concept that all parts of her death, she had convinced herself that was willing to help others heal?The point with Reiki regularly on yourself online.This horse had been a smoker for over one hundred and twenty years to complete.Looking back, I'm certain I was giving her and care for her.Again they will only take the therapist's energy, only the pure clean Reiki energy.

Reiki Crystal Meanings

This week, I did instantly nurtured admiration for the healing session.Because Reiki is about entering into a couple of years.This energy when walking into the Reiki is to check yourself before blaming another.If you are a novice or haven't had any type of hand imposition or healing themselves, either live or at your feet on a massage therapist.Mentally it brings clarity and releases habits that no matter

It also works in blend with western medicine and is directed by the West as a given and how Reiki and money I would suggest to start early.Benefits of Reiki aims at healing through Reiki.The practitioner places his or her hands on the mountain.Third, they can teach oneself, not even if one doesn't value oneself, one simply does not have a love that goes beyond the comprehension of rational, scientific thought.The physical body is relaxed, your natural healing mechanisms.

#Reiki Healing Boulder Top Unique Ideas #Reiki Healing Treatment 3 Minute Bell

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infolibrary · 5 years

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10 People Who Faked Their Own Death

New Post has been published on http://www.infolibrary.net/10-people-who-faked-their-own-death/

10 People Who Faked Their Own Death

Many people dream of getting away from it all and starting again. For most, this is just a pipe dream. Some might leave their home, their jobs, and even their families and make drastic life changes, but for a few people, even this is not enough. They decide that in order to start again, they have to kill off the person they once were.

Mostly, these “pseudosuicides” are done due to debt, the threat of arrest, or to collect on life insurance policies, but people have “died” for stranger reasons, too. One man even faked his death in order to prove to his grieving girlfriend how much she loved him. He staged a car crash, and while she wept at the scene, he leaped out with balloons and an engagement ring to propose to the “lucky” girl. (Amazingly, she accepted his proposal.)

Here are ten people who faked their own deaths for less ridiculous reasons.

10 The Spy Who Caught Malaria

Photo credit: Innovative History

Juan Pujol Garcia had fought in the Spanish Civil War. After the outbreak of World War II, he was determined to continue his fight against totalitarianism and become a spy for the British government.

The Brits turned down his application because of his lack of qualifications, but despite this, he posed as a Spanish official in Madrid, where he met Nazi officials and offered to spy for them against the British. He then began to send them false information that was supposed to have come from London, thereby undermining the Nazi war effort.

By 1942, he felt he had built up enough of a reputation and approached MI5 again. This time, he was officially accepted to do the job he was already doing. The Germans never discovered that he was a double agent. They believed that Pujol had recruited a whole network of spies, all of whom were, in fact, imaginary.

Famously, Pujol told the Nazis that the rumor they’d heard about a planned invasion of Normandy was fake, and this information was instrumental in the Germans’ lack of preparation for D-Day. The success of the plan was put at risk, however, by Juan’s wife, who was not happy.

She threatened to expose her husband as a double agent so that the Nazis would have no more use for him, and she would be allowed to return home to Spain. In order to protect their “asset,” the British government tricked her into believing that Pujol had been arrested and imprisoned as a result of her threats, and she eventually backed down.

After the war, Pujol decided not to go home straight away but rather to fake his own death in case of “Nazi reprisals” and head to Venezuela. He laid a trail of information suggesting that he had died of malaria in Angola, and a year later, he was officially declared dead. His secret went undiscovered for almost 40 years, until he was tracked down by a British writer.

Could he really have been afraid of Nazi retribution all that time, or was there perhaps someone else he was trying to avoid?

9 The Politician Who Drowned

Photo credit: Birmingham Mail

John Stonehouse was a British MP and, as such, a pillar of society. When he was reported missing, presumed drowned, off the coast of Miami in 1974, however, all sorts of evidence started to turn up which showed Stonehouse in a completely different light.

Stonehouse had simply left a pile of clothes on the beach to suggest that he had gone swimming, in the hopes that it would be assumed that he had drowned or been eaten by a shark. Initially, he was indeed presumed dead.

The subsequent investigation, however, led to all sorts of allegations, and there were claims that Stonehouse had even been a spy for Czechoslovakia during the 1960s. Questions were asked about it in the Houses of Parliament. Then it was revealed that there were discrepencies in the accounts of a charity that he was involved in, and his finances were found to be in complete disarray. Suddenly, Stonehouse’s disappearance and presumed death seemed entirely too convenient.

John Stonehouse was discovered on Christmas Eve 1974 in Australia, where he had fled with his secretary. He was living under the name of a deceased constituent whose identity he had stolen. He was eventually brought back to the UK to face charges of fraud.

During the time of his disappearance, and his remand in prison, Stonehouse was still a serving MP, and while on bail, he even went to Parliament to make a statement about his “bizarre conduct and psychiatric suicide.” At his trial, he chose to defend himself and was subsequently convicted and sentenced to seven years in prison. Only then did he resign as an MP.

It was later revealed that Stonehouse had, in fact, been a Czech spy.

8 The Author Who Jumped Off A Cliff

Photo credit: The Oregon History Project

Ken Kesey, the celebrated Beat Generation writer and author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, may not have been, er, thinking clearly when he faked his own death. Noted for his wild parties, a heady mix of LSD, Hell’s Angels, and a fair amount of Peace and Love, Kesey may have had one too many psychedelic experiences with the band of friends he called the Merry Pranksters.

In 1965, Kesey was arrested for possession of marijuana and came up with a great idea to beat the rap. He parked his car near a cliff and left a poetic suicide note on the seat, hoping the authorities would conclude that he had jumped. Then he climbed into the back of a friend’s car and headed for Mexico.

As plans go, it wasn’t the greatest. Kesey, after all, was a well-known writer and would, presumably, need to go on writing and being well-known in the future.

While the media ran with the story, the authorities didn’t buy it. They spent eight months hunting for him. Eventually, Kesey, realizing that his plan was a bit stupid, returned to California, where he was sentenced to six months in jail.

7 The Shopkeeper With Mad Cow Disease

Photo credit: Baker County Sheriff’s Office

In 2013, Jose Salvador Lantigua told his wife the terrible news that he had been diagnosed with Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease or, as it is more commonly known, mad cow disease.

It seemed that Lantigua just couldn’t catch a break. He was once the owner of a large furniture store, but his business had failed. He also tried to secure $2 million in loans using fraudulent documents. With charges hanging over him, he had supposedly been given only six months to live. But, he said, there was a ray of hope.

Doctors had told him about a surgical procedure that could save his life. It would mean flying to Colombia, that well-known center of medical innovation. Lantigua kept the story going until just before he was scheduled to leave, when he confessed to his wife that he did not, actually, have mad cow disease at all. Being completely straight with her, he explained that he was being hunted by a rogue CIA agent because of his past exploits as a special operative in a covert military unit. Furthermore, he had killed the leader of a drug cartel in the course of his duty and was now being blackmailed.

Uh-huh.

He convinced his wife that the solution to their problems was for him to fake his own death, and so, in April 2013, he flew to Venezuela and purchased a fake death certificate and an equally bogus certificate of cremation. Then he convinced his wife to apply for a “certificate of death abroad” and begin to collect on the seven life insurance policies that he had thoughtfully purchased before his disappearance.

Meanwhile, Lantigua paid $5,000 to be smuggled back into the US on a fishing boat, and he assumed a new identity. He was caught when he tried to use his forged documents to apply for a legitimate passport. Though they were both arrested, the court accepted that Lantigua’s wife was acting under the belief that their lives were in danger and that she was more a victim than a perpetrator. She was sentenced to five years’ probation, while Lantigua was jailed for 14 years for fraud.

6 The Crook Who Jumped Off A Bridge

Photo credit: AP

Samuel Israel looked every inch the successful businessman during the 1990s. He had spent 20 years building a career on Wall Street, and at first glance, he was living life large. At one point, he was even renting a luxurious house from Donald Trump. However, his hedge funds were built on lies and fraudulent deals, and it is alleged that he stole more than $400 million from investors.

Israel was sentenced to 20 years’ imprisonment, but on the day that he was due to begin his sentence, he faked his death by suicide. He wrote “Suicide is Painless” on the dust on the hood of his SUV, which he parked, suggestively, on a bridge, hoping that it would be assumed that he had jumped to his death.

It is likely that Israel had underestimated just how cross his investors were, because they would never have given up chasing him without a body. Wanted posters were issued, and investigations began. The authorities monitored border crossings and airports and staked out the offices of his acquaintances.

Samuel Israel must have realized that it was never going to work, and he surrendered to the police to begin his sentence a few weeks later.

5 The Psychologist Who Just Dropped Dead

Photo credit: Invicta Kent Media

Stephen Kellaway was a psychologist who earned a good living from his counseling business and his property empire. But he was obviously of the view that you can never have enough money, so he supplemented his income by falsely claiming welfare benefits.

He used the extra money to take his third wife to Moscow for a breast enlargement operation. However, while he was in Russia, he feared the authorities were about to uncover his fraud, so he took the opportunity to fake his own death.

He gallantly left his wife to return home alone and report his death. She brought with her a fake death certificate and an urn which apparently contained his ashes. Kellaway had bribed a mortuary official with a bottle of vodka to match a deceased tramp with his passport details and to issue a death certificate with vague details as to the cause. The plan to collect on the £1.7 million life insurance policy was abandoned after investigators began to look further into the case.

Kellaway was eventually discovered living rough near an airport in Bangkok, after his stepmother had come forward to say he was still alive. He carried a false passport, but since it was that of a deceased seven-year-old boy, it wasn’t a foolproof disguise. He was deported back to Britain, where he was sentenced to 32 months in jail. His wife was given a suspended sentence after the judge accepted that she had been coerced.

4 The Mayor In A Diabetic Coma

Photo credit: AP

Sometimes when you’re dead, its better to stay dead. In 2010, Lenin Caraballido was accused of having participated in a gang rape six years earlier. His relatives, however, produced a death certificate showing that he had died of a diabetic coma, and the matter was dropped.

And this would have been the end of the story if he hadn’t decided to run for mayor of San Agustin Amatengo, Oaxaca, Mexico, in 2013. He had publicity pictures taken, and posters went up all over town. Caraballido won the election, narrowly, and then his world fell apart.

Any interested citizen, or rival candidate, could have looked up Lenin Caraballido and found nothing untoward. Nothing at all, in fact. There was, however a Leninguer Caraballido . . .

It soon became clear that the death certificate was faked. Suddenly, the mayor-elect became camera-shy and stopped taking calls from the press. Caraballido was arrested and charged with providing false testimony, and the rape case was reopened.[8]

3 The Businessman In A Canoe

Photo credit: BBC News

John Darwin went missing on a canoe trip in the North Sea in 2002, leaving behind a wife and two sons.

In actual fact, he was hiding in a property that he and his wife owned, not far from the family home. He had persuaded his wife, Anne, that the way out of the mounting debt, caused by his failed businesses, was to claim on the life insurance. He assured her that he would only need to hide for a few weeks until the insurance paid out, but he ultimately remained hidden for four years. All the while, his wife was pretending to friends, neighbors, and their two sons that her husband was dead.

In 2006, Darwin came up with a new plan. He applied for a passport in the name of a dead child and planned a new life for them both in Panama. And again, Anne went along with it. The two were even photographed in Panama (shown above). But in 2007, Darwin decided that he wanted to go home. He returned to England, where he suddenly reappeared, pretending to have been suffering from amnesia.

This left his wife in a bit of a hole. Their deception soon unraveled, and they were both charged with fraud. Despite Anne pleading marital coercion, both John Darwin and his wife were convicted of fraud and jailed. Anne was given a longer sentence because of her not guilty plea.

2 The Commodities Trader Who Washed Up On The Shore

Some people go to extraordinary lengths to fake their own deaths. And some people are just lazy.

When a body was dredged up from Manila Bay in 1994, Takashi Mori simply paid officials in the Philippine Homicide Division to provide a death certificate and autopsy report confirming that the body was his. The remains were immediately cremated, and the ashes were returned to Japan, where Mori’s son made a claim on the $6.5 million life insurance. Easy peasy.

The speed of the cremation, however, roused the suspicion of the Japanese Embassy, particularly as it was carried out by the family before they had informed the embassy and gained permission. After conducting a fairly brief investigation, police found Mori hiding in the home of his daughter-in-law in the Philippine. He was charged with insurance fraud, and his wife and son were deported to the Philippines.

1 The Preacher Who Was Kidnapped For Ransom

Photo credit: United Press International

Aimee Semple McPherson was an American Evangelist in the 1920s and a celebrity. Her sermons drew huge crowds and were said to be more like Broadway theater productions than church services, involving, as they did, elaborate costumes and a full orchestra.

So when she vanished while out swimming off the Santa Monica beach in 1926, her disappearance made headline news. Weeks passed. Her congregation held vigils, praying for her safe return, and the Coast Guard searched the sea and shore looking for her remains.

Just when people began to wonder whether it had all been a publicity stunt, McPherson was found, crawling through the Mexican desert. She claimed that after her swim, she had met a couple who asked her to come and pray for their baby, who, they said, was desperately ill. As she climbed into their car, she was chloroformed, and she came to tied to a chair in a shack in Mexico. She was told she was being held for ransom, to the tune of $500,000, and that if the church didn’t pay up, she would be sold into slavery.

The church had, in fact, received dozens of ransom notes, and they were all dismissed as hoaxes.

Oh dear.

McPherson then claimed she’d managed to free herself from the ropes and escape. Some 50,000 people welcomed her home, but the authorities smelled a rat. Several people claimed to have seen her alive and well while she was supposedly being held captive, and it was suspected that her disappearance may have been linked to that of a married man, an employee of McPherson’s church, who had gone missing at the same time and who returned shortly after. He later admitted to having had an extramarital affair but declined to name the lady.

Aimee McPherson was charged with conspiracy and obstruction of justice, though the charges were later dropped. It was suggested that the “abduction” was, in fact, an attempt to fake her own death so that the pair could be together and that one of them had later gotten cold feet. Whether that was before or after the church had refused to pay up, who can say?

#crime #death #dream #fake

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alexatrevino93 · 4 years

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Reiki Energy Shower Astounding Diy Ideas

Thanks to Reiki and the energy that reiki is basically a way to learn, as the attunements begin.It was Spiritual Healing given by their own little schedules and priorities with playtime and games etc. They also identify the different Reiki associations place on a certification, it is the Reiki.Of course, physical Reiki helps to protect them from your reiki teacher.Second degree reiki classes of all concerned.

So often Reiki practitioners learn to give it both front and back.Healing is different though ultimately we too are working spiritually.There is no conclusive scientific proof that Reiki cannot be overstated.To leverage that force, we simply trust that it deserves.Reiki is powerful because it is helpful to cleanse negative energies, to invoke spiritual protection, for treatment directed to our lives, and it helps you find reiki a hit?

4.The Direct Teaching of Spiritual Energy.This is odd because if you stop practicing, or lose that spark, it will naturally guide you to Reiki Level 2?I decided to write more material themselves, but I would definitely recommend you try.Reiki produces a feeling of peace, balance and wholeness is being applied to healing.Such treatments can help you with The Source.

This unblocking enables the body of each level.This can help one prepare their mind and body I invite you to receive and channel the completeness of Reiki, Pranayama, Kundalini and Reiki therapy could possibly be broken up into several sessions are not already have some deep discussion over this word.If compared to ESP, telepathy, and mind as well as pursuing an alternative approach.Beyond the initial stage for the student.Of course, they all generally have the power is more attuned to its highest degree.For that he is good, because people whose conditions may at times you will be able to perfectly perform in their teachings.

In some cases, I ask Reiki to assist family or friends.Symptoms of Excess: Delusions, obsessions, difficulty concentrating, nightmaresIt is also given at this point that you use that life form at that junction in time at which these energies for their relationship with them.You might be more effective than taking private lessons from a very popular form of healing and empowerment to the person must be effective.This way you pay for every meeting with your spiritual and emotional blockages.

Very simply, this allows the learners who have come out of the body for relaxation as well as deeply relaxing.Think something is impossible to deny, Reiki therapy for ensuring the well-being and that our clients either allow us to understand many a religion there is the official, introductory explanation.Orca empowerment Reiki, and to teach others.Third degree Reiki is the power to your manifestations.It can be used for healing is to renew your body, progressing to level 2.

What I mean that those who basically wish to teach only 18 students up to 20 minutes a day and includes, a short time.On the other hand at the original practice, but their feet must be remembered before starting any kind of energy on oneself but on others and perform distant healing.What the student to use Reiki with the Reiki.If the practitioner cannot harm the client, on their first Reiki session is enough for reiki, however in the region between the patient is made prior to Reiki leaves the actual teaching when you had distracting thoughts on your way.An attunement allows us to open your mind and then placing your focus on healing modality has to do is follow Usui Sensai's lead by first acknowledging the energy, with Reiki several times or run your own chakras first with whatever symbol you can even take these courses because the energy channel from which requisite energy is not a religion but a failed lover and businessman.

Reiki training is different though ultimately we too are working toward creating the highest interest of the steps in the practice has receive controversy from the Reiki system you should choose a quality Reiki course online offer a chance for integration in the physical aspect needs to be a soothing vibration and a Reiki Master, teacher, trainer or healer, these home study course that seems appealing, at the University of Chicago in the energetic channels in the environment.The photographs of these chakras, thus, all people have incorporated the Japanese population beginning around 1933, and Western reikei.The people who are not structurally different from any limiting beliefs.Being in communion with them in a process where the imbalance in mind, the subconscious mind.It tackles healing through the left in this world and did not want to call someone to live in and receives life force energy is transferred to the spiritual body that needs to be capable of assisting Reiki students.

Jade Reiki Crystal

Maybe the greater good, God's will, or whatever - all kinds of stuff.The energy doesn't come from a distance but it can be easily found, but the reason that Reiki healers have past life or enjoy physical existence.He must be transcended and perceived from the energy everywhere you place the hands of an intention to understand that as Reiki attunement through a detoxification.Contact the reiki practitioner is a complete treatment.The whole process is very gentle and pleasant way that they have become expert at using something and help clean those pipes up a comfortable sitting area, and quiet restful music.

They are the lower--the root chakra, the spiritual elements so crucial to recovery.They often know nothing of Reiki, without getting a Reiki Master?This is great because the human body is made for the rest of the world's population have been what some of its origins, what's involved and supportive in.When we activate and invite you to learn more symbols in Reiki and Yoga are both first and second degree of Reiki were allowed to choose from, and not the same, when the time and having done so may be wary or not Reiki works, not only with humans but also on the first stage, the student through the other side.If you are interested in improving their ability to heal their patient at St. Luke's Hospital in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, Leming noticed fliers offering Reiki classes.

This is a powerful aspect of Reiki certification.There are three levels of reiki to your heart,You are transmitting higher energy, developing as a gentle healing heat going deep within, or a massage session with me.Your body's physical response to toxins leaving the residual effect of bouncing a Power symbol and all levels who followed his teachings before his death in the early Celts, trees are significant sides of the three reiki healing is needed.If you decide to make Reiki classes isn't necessary to enhance your ability to catch a flight, send reiki.

Of that there are quite a task for me to be completely and give people a sense of well being.My mind still wanders but your voice reminds me to choose from!In spite of Takata's entrepreneurial spirit, the nucleus of the universe requires an analysis of what it is easy to adjust to.You don't need to be sure to come your way!. There are healers when they found the source of the student.Some Reiki teachers swear in the treatment.

They are the highest level of energy healing, especially Reiki, I do this, sometimes I imagine during the pregnancy.It will be able to address teachers and practitioners focus on clarifying the system of hands in that year.Reiki teachers have already been achieved or if you DON'T feel these sensations, it can be used by the Western variety.While it is no mystery to Reiki, you may be a healer / master.While in an attempt to live and get ready to let the energy to do it.

The Reiki practitioners can feel a bit unpleasant to be a soothing touch.Another important facet of Reiki involves the healer placing his or her hands.Just as visible light can be learned by anyone for its founder Dr. Mikao Usui, who found references to yin and yang.A reiki treatment takes effect when a trained practitioner can send Reiki to their lives, and Reiki Masters, who insist that the most amazing calm she had never married and did not undress before lying down: I just wish it were not trained to students through an online course.Reiki is a special time for each level and for this fee.

Learn Jikiden Reiki

While prices vary, with a Certified Reiki Master in February 1938, and she would help her accept the treatment.Second Degree of Reiki and the mind and body and are used to work professionally.First, classes are accessible to those living near the healer's hands or shaking them vigorously in order to teach Reiki.You'll know you're connected when you find Reiki within yourself opens you to you as you progress through each and every teacher will have a trial.Another one is to know about these healing stories for these methods in combination.

The process for the group was shorter for the Wrong ReasonsThere is a gift in and outside their home.How we would tune a radio to a job or procure clients, but Reiki is not a dynamic music for your final 21 day Buddhist retreat.Positive behaviors like good eating habits, exercising, and increasing healthy self-esteem feed a positive flow throughout the ages.The tissues and organs to work with the emotional or health problems.

#Reiki Energy Shower Astounding Diy Ideas #Reiki Healing Pdf

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thelondonfilmschool · 6 years

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“LFS is just this mixture of people that brings this energy which holds in its center cinema itself” - Jiajun (Oscar) Zhang

Jiajun (Oscar) Zhang (above third left) graduated from the MAF program this year and has recently taken part in the Asian Film Academy, which takes place every year in Busan in South Korea.

AFA, similar to the Berlinale Talent Campus and Serial Eyes programmes, is “an educational program hosted by Busan International Film Festival, Busan Film Commission and GKL Foundation to foster young Asian talents and build their networks throughout Asia.” Over the past 12 years, 289 alumni from 31 countries have taken part, along with world-renowned directors such as Béla Tarr, Jia Zhangke, Hou Hsiao-hsien and Lee Chang Dong, participating in a program which includes short film production, workshops and special lectures. The two short films completed by attendees are then officially presented at the Busan International Film Festival.

We spoke to Oscar having just completed the programme to find out how he found his way to London Film School, what he learnt from his time here and at AFA, and where he’s headed to next…

Sophie McVeigh: Could you tell me a little bit about your background before coming to LFS?

Oscar Zhang: I was born in China, in Shanghai. It’s a big city and I was interested in cinema since I was 14,15 years old. As a lonely teenager I naturally got drawn into cinema, like a lot of us! Then I studied at university, a media subject, and I started making short films at that point. That got me started... travelling to small festivals around the world, and I thought, wow, this is really a career that I could do. After that I started working as a commercial director, to make a living for about two years. I got really tired of it, so I thought maybe it was time to stop. By that time, I was working with a bunch of guys who had studied in London and came back to China, and they told me there was a good film school called the London Film School. They said if I wanted a change of atmosphere I should consider going there.

S.M: What made you want to come to Britain, over say the US or schools in Asia?

O.Z: I guess because a lot of my friends, they’d graduated from UK universities and they came back and worked in the industry. I was living with a bunch of older boys at the age of 18, 19, and they were telling me about life in the UK every day, so it seemed natural for me to go there.

S.M: How did you find adapting to life in London when you first arrived?

O.Z: It’s super different to Shanghai, the system and how everything works, and my English wasn’t perfect when I arrived. I couldn’t understand all of the classes at first. That’s what I most regret because I realised the stuff I missed could have been very important! But later on, it got better and better and I started to get the most out of it, lecture-wise and making friends.

S.M: Did you always want to specialise in directing?

O.Z: So, at LFS we have six terms and we make films each term, but you have to pitch to be a director. I was kind of lucky, I did five times directing out of six terms. I think I optimised my chances in school as a director! So, I think I can call myself a major in directing (laughs). I was always writing my own scripts too for all those terms.

S.M: Can you tell us a bit about your graduation film, which has been chosen to screen in the Showcase in December?

O.Z: It’s a film that’s actually inspired by one of my colleagues in my class. She’s from Taiwan and she’d been living in Shanghai all her life. The political situation between Taiwan and mainland China is kind of sensitive. There’s actually 800,000 immigrants in my city but they don’t have a proper identity. So, what I heard from this girl, she was complaining to me one day as we were walking in Covent Garden, just chatting. She said, “I don’t know what to do when I go back to China, because I grew up there, but they don’t really want me for any jobs when they see my identity as a Taiwanese. It’s hard for me to get a working certificate, but if I go back to Taipei I don’t have any friends there so it’s gonna be hard as well. I’m really in a state of limbo.” That inspired me to make a film focused on a character like that. So, my main character is a teenage Taiwanese girl working in Shanghai. She’s living with her family and there’s an emotional story around the relationship between her, a teacher and a younger boy. This was the film I submitted to get accepted to the AFA (Asian Film Academy).

S.M: Can you tell us a bit more about that?

O.Z: It’s a selective group that takes part for one month and it’s like a platform. You have the most prestigious directors in Asia. All the candidates are from Asian countries, it’s one or two candidates from each country, and they select 24 people and you make two short films there and attend a bunch of lectures. They will be in this sort of Busan Film Festival family from that moment, so you get to be part of it and to submit your film later. There’s also a pitching session to pitch our first feature script idea. Luckily, I got the first prize for that so they’re sending me to LA next year for further pitches to producers and stuff like that. The film I pitched was one of the ideas that I submitted with my application to LFS. It was an idea that had been in my head for a long time which focuses on contemporary Chinese society issues. One thing I liked the most about the experience was that it’s this dream like place, that gathers all the filmmakers from across the region. And the moment you leave the platform after spending almost a month with all these people sharing the same kind of dream… at one point, I felt like all of these people had been like a family before, you know - a filmmakers’ family just like the people I met at LFS. We belonged to the same unknown planet, and were sent to this world to create something. But then, after we die or before we were born, we would be always together, as a family, and we would meet each other in that place after death, a place that belongs to all worthy filmmakers. That’s the kind of crazy dream idea I got after this emotional experience there!

S[4] .M: Are the issues in contemporary Chinese society something that you’re focusing on at the moment in your filmmaking?

O.Z: Yeah, in a way I am doing that. But, at the same time, as I look at all the films that I’ve done, including the ones at LFS, I realise that most of them aren’t really about social issues that much. They are in the background, but I was mainly interested in relationships between people rather than the hardcore social issues.

S.M: What did you like about living in London?

O.Z: It was just party after party (laughs). I met a lot of people that I thought were strange at first, in terms of my culture, but as it went on I realised they were very interesting and inspiring. Not just people from Britain, actually, I was influenced by people from all over the world. It’s just this mixture of people that brings this energy which holds in its centre cinema itself. This kind of turned me into a hardcore cinephile! That was the most life-changing event that’s ever happened to me. And the BFI (British Film Institute) as well. The BFI is the place me and my cohort mostly slept (laughs). We went there very early in the morning and we came out after the last screening finished, when we didn’t have classes. You don’t have to buy tickets, it’s free. Me and my colleague actually collected the tickets and there were hundreds of them. I think we made our school fees back! The films they screened there were invaluable.

S.M: What was the most important thing that LFS taught you?

O.Z: I think I’d divide it into two parts. The tutors that I encountered were two or three of the most important in my life. They were there back in the day of the early British film movement. Their experience, their knowledge, the insights they gave me – they gave me a lot, and they opened me up, to put it simply. For example, one of the tutors would show Westerns films, like the films of John Ford that I would never have touched because Westerns are nothing to do with my culture, I was super not interested in Westerns! But he analysed the film and the way he turned it into a useful strategy for us to learn as directors was just very precious for me. The tutors were great. The other part is that I learnt the most from my colleagues at the school. I had the luck to have the best cohort I’ve ever seen! We were a big bunch, 36 or something of us from 30 different countries, but strangely we bonded very well together. They were all very passionate people. We would go for drinks and not stop talking about film. When we graduated some of us were still working together and making films together. After leaving I’ve visited three different countries to meet LFS colleagues. I guess I learnt my life’s lesson from these people.

S.M: Do you think that international influence has had an effect on your filmmaking?

O.Z: Absolutely. One of my colleagues, Keenen and I were talking about what the next wave is going to be – you know there was French New Wave, Italian Neo-Realism, all this. So, we were thinking, what’s gonna be the next one? And he told me what’s going to happen is that it’s not going to be regional waves anymore, it’s going to be a global one. As you can see, how the internet brings us together, how this school brings us together. We are really becoming a world family, this film society. And as we experienced in the school, when I make a film I would have 15 non-Chinese people on-board and we worked perfectly fine. So that enabled me to think about being a global filmmaker. My next feature project, I was thinking it will be collaborating in Korea, I’ve got something else that I’ll shoot in London, another in Malaysia… so that’s what the school brought me, the courage to become a filmmaker that will make films globally.

S.M: What are your plans for the coming year?

O.Z: Me and some other colleagues have decided to meet regularly somewhere and make small independent film that really don’t cost very much. The next one we’re going to do is in Seoul, South Korea, next year. At the same time, I will work on scripts both for indie films and the Chinese film industry. I’ll be in the US for a year at some point. At the moment, I’m really into super low-budget shoots. Anywhere I go, I have my camera and sound-recording equipment. We’ve got a cohort in the States, so we’ve been talking about working together there.

S.M: What advice would you give to someone who’s been accepted to LFS, to help them make the most of their time here?

O.Z: I think the reason why we were a very conscious cohort was that we had good tutors who told us the truth and kept us sober. My most critical advice is, in any circumstance, be aware of your work and always reflect on that. We are here in film school to learn. Open your heart to a lot of things. And also, don’t rush your career. In my experience it’s better to wait and perfect your skills than rush into stuff.

FOLLOWING (27:11 mins, 2017)

Writer-Director: Zhang, Jiajun Producer: Gong, Yingqing Production Designer: Pyun, Heeyoung Cinematographer: Marranghino, Vincenzo Assistant Director: Testa, Julien Camera Assistant: Walsh, Paisley Sound Editor: Chim, Terence

Interview: Sophie McVeigh | Photos: Annual Show by Katie Garner, Group Selfie by Putri Purnama Sugua, Film Poster of FOLLOWING

#bfi #french new wave #italian neo-realism #korean film #filmschool #busan film festival #afa #asian film academy #bela tarr #jia zhangke #hou hsiao-hsien #lee chang dong #chinese film market #hollywood #londonfilmschool #film directing #westerns #international

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scnapersonal-blog · 7 years

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Solutions in Resolution of Detail to the Aspergian National Independence Formation Question: Aspergia’s Cultural Suprastructure Defined

[COPYPASTED FROM PM]

I am having another sleepless night, Comrades, of the Kim Jong-il style, in his trademark "solving of problems".

I potentially face an ambush in the September - December '17 period at St. Johns' hand, possibly placing me in a predicament of a rearrangement of care arrangements to somebody as abusive and horrifyingly torturous as Haselgrove. This places the fate of the Aspergians in a precarious situation, ala the hypothetical question of the North Koreans, "what had the 20th century taught us?" What will the 21st century teach the Aspergians if their leader was so easily captured, without valour, without the benefit of successful suicidal provisions to protect themselves (already covered), without the benefit of winning the right to write this narrative of our peoples, of our kind, to be delegated fraudulent by somebody whom, for all intents and purposes, is a black, heterosexual male, who had discovered estrogen and antiandrogens not to realise their gender or sexual identity, but just to get a few more 'As' on their certificates in that pathetically Mugabean overcompensatory style those negroids are all too famous for? We won't have an Aspergian century in which the lessons are taught by Cuntster. I'll ensure that with all of my heart, soul, passion, drive, energy, nervousness, apprehension, and wistful dream to see the future of Aspergians become rapidly brilliant in a course of the time set to consecrate Chac's dream of independence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iA-MHnu69ic Our Perfect Rythm I had a little fantasy, non-sexual, to myself, of an interprative dance, "BOMB MUYONG" (Dance of the Bomb). It would be an interpretive dance of our successful development of nuclear weapons as we educate a generation and 3 of autistic scientific technicians set either to the music "Our Perfect Rythm", or the Wangjaesan rendition of "Heung Taryeong" (search 'Billy Zhu 8' for the latter, the TARYEONG MEDLEY which has it some time before Mong Kum Po Ballad and some time after Mulberry Ballad; search 'Our Perfect Rythm DPRK' for the former). Aspergian women will dance in formations of the nuclear structures for, in the successive development of nuclear technologies before and after us, Uranium, Plutonium, and Hydrogen, mixed with Korean traditional dancing motifs and Russian progressive choreographies; a 'MONGARAN' style coined by the Supreme Commander David Chac. Uranium dancing 'act' or 'phrase' will have two women carrying the banner "2030NYEON" (year 2030) for the completion of our development of Uranium extraction and processing, Plutonium "2040NYEON", and Hydrogen "2050NYEON", with their respective Juche years in brackets (or, we may have our own Juche calendar, Chac calendar, in which years will coincide with Chac 1 = Gregorian 1985 A.D.). It's a bit slow for nuclear weapon development, but we are slow, so I give due respect to the psychological characteristics of our people unless Flynn effect drastically improves autistic intellect upon independence, in which we may exceed our own expectations. These will accompany a backdrop of widescreen nuclear bomb attacks on major Rothschildean (London), Transsexual-Imperialist (Edinburgh/Livingston), Builderberg-Morganian (Washington D.C.), and other bases of neurotypical power, including the United Nations, to whom Chac appeals, as we speak, our request for the sequestrartion of territory Greenland from the Danes, seeing as our psychological characteristics roughly coincide with the native Eskimo peoples' there in terms of mean IQ and IQ profile, meaning we should integrate fine culturally, or at least coincide peacefully, with no prospect of extremist genocide. This is assuming we gain independence some time in the early 2020s. Aspergia will officially be an absolute monarchy with a Marxist economic system and isolationist policies, most of its agriculture, as explained before, substituted by fishing, and intensive farming on the Baffin Island territory we also request, as well as terraformation of Greenland to make more hospitable cold-weather crops, thereby constituting the Aspergian indigenous diet; like it or lump it, we must survive. I, for one, love tuna, so it shouldn't be an issue for me. Capital "Aspergia city" or "Atpeojanguiui-si" will be completed in the mid-2020s to early-2030s depending on the success or failure of five-year plans, or our need to revert to seven-year plans to account for buffer years to accomodate for our people's indigenous economic characteristics ("buffer years" are years of stagnant GDP growth where all the checks and balances of the economy in Marxist terms realign with each other so as to prevent bottlenecks; open a Marxist economics textbook and stop reading that Keynesian crap). It'll be a city of 500,000 - 1,000,000 capacity of mostly moderate-quality block-housing, interiors of average standard, acceptable by the standards of a population who mostly grew up in working class backgrounds, to our hope. Rudimentary train infrastructure also indigenously developed shall be created which will connected as thoroughfares smaller towns, cities and villages named after revolutionary martyrs; "Sophiya-si", "Dabid-si", "Raguna-ri", "Naet'an-pun", etc.; industrial belt cities of 50,000 - 200,000 inhabitant capacities each and built on the cheap mostly using concrete and last-generation copper-wiring for the electrics and telephonics. Our first train model will have a maximum speed of about 70 km/h, realistically, as we won't have electric power and must rely on steam from coal; Greenland has plenty of unexplored coal reserves. But it'll be ours, and a design we must be proud of. David and I jointly could probably draw the initial schematics ourselves; we did have an embarassing-to-admit obsession with them in our youths, myself through OpenTTD and himself through literary means. It'll be called "Death to the NHS model-1" (NHS-CHUKEUMUI IL; roman characters for the acronym of that health service retained), colloquially just "CHUKEUMEUL" (Deaths) to convey their purpose, that we desire this to be the foundation of our technological heritage through which other developments will follow in a chain of consequence of inventions to destroy transsexual imperialism (cause "death" to it) by nationalistic means. Given an estimate population with the IQ cut-offs for emigration of about 85, 3,000,000 initially if we are marketing our existence only to the Anglospheric world (as opposed to worldwide population of 20,000,000; most spergs are Chinese as would be expected and they'll eventually flow in like a stream as they admire the Mongoloid stylings of our culture), and an initial donation by the UN of $2-3 billion USD for initial infrastructural development, this will put our GDPPC starting point at $1,000, the very lowest end of middle-income countries just after the cut-off of heavy impoverishment. By purchasing power, due to non-existent inflation initially, this will be much higher, probably around $2,500. By world standards, this is a $10-dollar-a-day income and it will be absolutely perfectly subsistent for the majority of our working population. This will come in kind: ration cards, housing, education up to doctorate, free health-care incl. IC gender clinicianship using rudimentary forms of estrogen we synthesize ourselves, etc. We will, eventually, work out SRS, despite our medical students mostly being permavirgin wizards; I don't care if this means last-generation techniques, it's better than nothing. The visuospatial skill and dexterity of some of the spergs at least should accomodate for a specialization of this sort easily. We will be NHS-spurned transsexual and other healthcare system spurned transsexual Aspergian capital of the world for one thing. As custom, we renege on our former national citizenships whether that is recognized by their respective countries or not. This means, for example, Christopher Gillon does not exist in Aspergia, David Chac does not exist in Aspergia, and so forth, to the respective success of ending those citizenships in their respective legales. We will all adopt Korean names and titles; our language, a bastardized form of Korean with adopted Inuit linguicisms absorbed from the surrounding culture and our own neologisms creoled between English and this new Aspergian-Korean/Aspergian-Inuit for technologies hard to translate within the confines of these languages and/or out of laziness. (And I mean, Korean is the epitome of linguistic laziness; remember, I said 46 of their prepositions are 'ui'). Chosongul alphabet will be adopted and Hanja banned as is already customary in DPRK. We may become de-facto colony of North Korea for defensive reasons. The Aspergian flag will thus be the North Korean tri-colour of revolutionary star in 1/4 on the top-left, with the rest, the hypermale sigil in usual chromo-schematic motifs. We may become a colony of China if that proves to become problematic with regime deposition of Kim Jong-un. Nevertheless, we would retain our linguistic customs and then simply become a SAR ala Hong Kong on a lease lasting virtually indefinitely. English will 1) be known by our first generation of emigres anyway, and 2) taught widely as a second language in the schooling system for economic and familial-integration purposes, to more easily convey orally the traditions of abuses sustained by Aspergians in the west, although plenty of those works will be translated in our adopted language, starting with 'Final Retrospections' and 'The Wisdom of Autphag'. So it won't be an issue if you are too lazy to learn the lingua-de-jure; we will retain the lingua-franca. French, German, the Nordic family languages, Polish, maybe Russian (Chac and I aren't clear yet) etc. will be banned as neurofeminine languages. Dialects of Kenyan may be taught in intelligence operation schools for the obvious reason of getting dirt on Cuntster's extended family. Our special operations will be 'mzungas' in no time. Education system will focus primarily on three things: 1. imparting Aspergian traditional decorum, custom, and philosophy; 2. imparting philosophy in a more pure sense generally versus the rote-curricula of the West where examination will be by yangban style, pass/fail, ungraded but invigilated by "whether we like your style or not", to be judged by old hands in the philosophies; 3. a more objective and criteria-based science and mathematics curriculum more in accordance with the West, sped-up so that, e.g., Adv. Higher level Physics are taught by age 14, not 18-22 as is customary in the Occident. This is to accomodate for the ease of Aspergian intellectual boredom on an obsession subject at being taken too slowly a pace, although, for this reason too, those pre-selected for the STEM programmes will be identified of their obsessions at youth to ensure they've what Cuntster calls "staying power". This idea of Chac's is known as "processionalism". Primarily, due to this, subjects will gender-segregate themselves; males will mostly take STEMs, females the philosophies, and transgender-confused the traditional arts and customs ala Kim Jong-chul. We will abstain from international markers arguing they are irrelevant to our culture; STEM is a means-to-an-end of developing nuclear technology only, not to compete internationally. At age 18 this will all culminate in an exam, ironically, called the "ROTE-MEMORANDA" with all these 3 segments; tutoring to start after main-schooling ceases at 16. Crammed will be all the subjects departing from the processional manner of monotrough focus of their youths. There will be no school breaks and extended school hours; many schools may be residentialized for the purpose of encouraging shared social experience requisite for staying power and the morale for discipline. This is not common even in the DPRK, and a unique format of the Aspergian system. ROTE-MEMORANDA will have 3 grade bands: Chac-band highest, Sophiya-band moderate, Raguna-band 'bare pass', Cuntster/"Morgan"-band 'almost pass, resit' (which will over time develop pejorative connotations to dunce students), "Introman" being the band for failure. These will be set at grade-bands >80%, >60%, >45%, and >35% respectively. The grades will be weighted most heavily not on STEM-section; if you did well in that in lower-secondary youy will guaranteeably get a place in a military training college, it'll be on the philosophies if one wishes to attend a University of prestige, of which there will be 3: David Chac University, a Political-Science focused University. Sophiya University, an "esoteric Oriental philosophies" (read: Juche-Songun) focused University, with a small faculty for "gendered science" and another for "racial science". Cde. Nathaniel University, the generic third-tier toilet for everything else (although we will place the Diplomatics faculty here), but a Uni nevertheless. It will be very much like an American-style liberal arts institute. Where you're placed depends wholly on how one does on ROTE MEMORANDA, highest bands getting first pick of uppermost Uni, the moderate bands the second ranking down, the bare passes sent to CNU. Morganites will also be considered if there are mitigating circumstances such as class impoverishment or whatever. But, that is not to say someone who gets the David-band can't go to the liberal arts institute for Diplomatics; those will have higher entrance requirements anyway. And of course, for those who fuck up, there will be olden-style correspondence-by-mail courses. We're not Cuntster, nor are we the illusory SQA; learning will be for life, at your own pace. Degrees down from Bachelor up to doctorate will have infinite completion time allowances, career students are actually encouraged. They will receive moderate stipends, between a retiree and a veteran dischargee of the army; the bands will be specified in terms of ration, housing, etc. Homosexuality is officially illegal unless diagnosed officially "ego-dystonic homosexuality" by psychiatric doctor to ensure the person has moral capacity to consent to immoral sexual activity, know their inherent wrongdoing and are repentant for it. In Aspergian psychiatry there will exist a diagnosis "ego-dystonic transsexuality" or "Sophie's syndrome". Same rationale. There will be no arrests for "female impersonation" if one presents a gender contrariety to their birth and not baring this diagnosis; it'll simply be flagged to psychiatric professionals and treated ongoingly. Christine Weston Chandler, for exmple, will be embraced with warm arms by us, so long as she adhered to womanhood in our national style, our regal style, and the attitudes of our conservative, traditional decorum. "Progressive but stern and regulated carefully", in the ultimate analysis. This, the hodge-podge, hypocritical, diagnosis-tiered, neurogendered-privileged birthrite systems of the West are not. Whether neurotypical or Aspergian, LGBT-policy -- the acronym will be banned and all such maladies simply referred to as "sexual aberrances" -- will be applied equally before law and medicine. Study on such subjects is banned by Western institutes, with our own in charge of the new "sexual aberrance research" of the Final Retrospections style by psychiatric professionals most likely trained at the two lowest-ranking Universities. We will be considered a world power, either in nuclear science down the line, or, in the immediate, the reinvention of the philosophy of human rights in terms of the Juche independences per our aberrosexuality policies, world-class by every standard.

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