#Global Forgiveness Day & Apologies card

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Paws for Applause - Chapter Two 'Basenji'

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes x Original Nonbinary Character (Soldierbug)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Mars and Bucky go on a road trip, and Bucky makes a new friend.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 4555

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) Panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers by us! Cards at the end <3

<- Chapter One Chapter Three ->

Prompts used;

– “I’m Telling You, I’m Haunted.” – @anyfandomgoesbingo; - ‘Popsicle’ – @buckybarnesbingo – B049; - ‘Rain on the Roof of this Empty House’ – Bug’s First Bingo; - ‘Sticky Notes’ – @eclipsingbingo (Dark); - ‘Post-it Notes’, ‘Stream of Consciousness’ – Gen Prompt Bingo; - ‘Refusing Help’ – @hurtcomfort-bingo – C042; - ‘Real Men Hate Affection’ – @multifandom-flash (International Day of Families);

- ‘A Day off or Procrastination’ – @julybreakbingo (Mini); - ‘Watermelon’ – July Break Bingo (Summer); - ‘Always Tired or Way Too Energized’ – July Break Bingo (5x5); - ‘Cheer’ – July Break Bingo (6x6); - ‘Mild’ – July Break Bingo (7x7); - ‘Poinsettia’ – @seasonaldelightsbingo (Language of Flowers); - ‘Humiliation’ – @lgbtqbingo;

- ‘You Are Better Than You Think You Are’ – Multifandom-Flash (Compliment); - ‘Sorry I’m Late’ – Multifandom-Flash (Global Forgiveness Day & Apologies); - ‘Purple Prose’ – Multifandom-Flash (National Writing Day – Troping in the Literary Field!); - ‘Damaged Soul’ – Multifandom-Flash (Round 2 – 2031); - ‘Fugitives’ – Multifandom-Flash (Team); - ‘Dirty Dishes’ – Multifandom-Flash (Thanksgiving – 7026); - ‘Mango Lemon Margarita Mocktail’ – Multifandom-Flash (Pour Me a Bingo – Mocktails).

I woke coated in my own sweat, blankets tangled around my limbs suffocatingly. I’d attempted to sleep on the bed, but jerked awake almost immediately, my muscles had seized in fear, breath coming in sharp pants as terror threatened to overwhelm me.

I’d quickly given in, dragging a blanket with me to crawl under the table, my sweat-slick body shivering in the chill coming under the ill-fitting door. It was there that I’d spent the largely sleepless hours until dawn, eyes wide and afraid, locked on the front door fearfully.

When I blinked my eyes open to face the scratched underside of the table, my brow furrowed, gaze landing on a post-it above me.

Meeting with Mars @ 9am - Paws for Applause; Going to get a puppy!!!

I frowned in confusion, one finger reaching out to touch the note uncertainly.

This… This isn’t my handwriting.

There was a pang of shy anxiety, the feeling distant but notable. Um… I didn’t want you to forget.

You did this? There was a quiet, hesitant sound of affirmation, and I paused. … How?

I’m… Not sure. I just… Did? You were asleep… I’m sorry; did I do something wrong?

My heart ached at the uncertainty and fear in his voice, and I shook my head quickly, letting my hand drop with a soft smile. “No, you did great,” I soothed reassuringly, chuckling under my breath. “I appreciate it, truly. … Are you, uh�� Excited?” I probed tentatively. It felt odd, talking to someone who may or may not exist in my own head – but I couldn’t deny the flood of joy that overwhelmed my nervous system at the question, bringing a broad grin to my face.

Yeah! I like dogs. I like cats too, but not as much, I think…

I couldn’t help but grin, comforted by this childlike excitement. “I think I’d quite like a cat one day,” I mused aloud, letting the quiet joy ease my frayed nerves of the night. “… What about you, Soldier?”

I… Maybe I’d appreciate a bird. Flight fascinated me.

Blinking in surprise, I cocked my head, sightless eyes still on the note overhead. “… Why?” I’d never asked him a direct question about himself, and I winced guiltily at the wave of uncertainly that flooded my veins. “You don’t have to-”

It… Seems like freedom. The ability to go anywhere in the world without restriction, to be out of reach with only an endless sky for company… He paused, humming thoughtfully, only the faintest hint of embarrassment undercutting his words. That sounds like a nice way to live.

That’s beautiful, the second murmured after a moment, his voice full of tender wonder.

“It is,” I agreed, a newfound respect for the screaming, flapping bundle of feathers I encountered the day before overcoming me at the sentiment. “I’ll try to make it happen for you one day.”

He made a quiet, joyful sound, bringing a smile to my face. I’d like that.

We arrived at the store with five minutes to spare, leaning back against the brickwork as I smoked a cigarette while I waited, foot tapping with anxiety.

9am came with sharp, nervous breaths and trembling hands. The mild morning was fading into midsummer heat – still cool compared to the Wakandan weather I was accustomed to, but it contributed nevertheless to my claustrophobia, feeling sweat form along my spine.

It was almost ten minutes later before a door to one side slammed shut, a harried-looking Mars leaning against in with a heavy sigh. “Sorry I’m late – honestly, I can’t seem to get my brain in gear when I finally get a day off, it’s like I just-” They cut themselves off as they considered me, wincing guiltily. “Shit. Are you okay?”

My breath was coming in ragged gasps as I quivered, back plastered to the brickwork, my fingernails desperately clawing at the cement to find some form of grounding purchase. “Crap… Bucky? It’s okay- I’m here. Fuck, I’m so sorry…” They glanced around, glaring at anyone who dared as much as look my way as they passed by. My humiliation increased, and they bit their lip, offering their hand to me. “Come on. I’ve got you – let me get you out of here.”

I was barely cognizant as they bundled me into the passenger seat of a small car, hands finding the dashboard to brace myself, sucking in air desperately. They climbed into the driver’s seat, watching me worriedly and murmuring soft reassurances as I began my slow return to reality.

By the time I looked up, my face was slick with tears, body quivering with effort, embarrassment stilling my tongue. “There now… It’s okay. I’m here. I’m so, so sorry I was late.”

I shook my head weakly, offering them a lukewarm smile. “It’s okay. I-I just… Even other people just walking by made me- I mean, I didn’t feel…”

“Safe?” they finished softly, clucking sympathetically when I nodded. “Yeah… I know what that’s like. But you’re safe with me, okay? I promise.”

Their eyes shone with fierce sincerity, and I found myself relaxing a little, feeling secured despite myself by all five-foot-something of the person before me.

“I trust you,” I murmured, reaching out to squeeze their hand uncertainly. They smiled as they squeezed back, then looked around us pointedly.

“Well, we’re already in the car, at least, so… I guess we should get on our way, huh?”

They chatted aimlessly as they drove, telling me more about their life before the States – though they skirted around a previous relationship with an infinitesimal wince, moving instead to their sister’s tree-planting initiative.

We’d been on the road for half an hour, their incessant warbling effectively staying my anxiety, when they cut themselves off with a thoughtful hum.

“Fancy a cold drink?” they offered, gesturing at a passing advertisement with a glance toward me. I hesitated, and they smiled softly. “We can sit outside, if you’d like.”

With a relieved sigh, I smiled back, nodding slowly. “That sounds good.” The sweat was beading along my hairline, and I exhaled heavily, running a hand through the shoulder-length tangle. Their eyes shifted to me once more, and my skin prickled nervously under the attention. “… What?”

Shaking their head quickly, they looked back to the road, the faintest of blushes spreading across their cheeks. “No- Nothing. I just… I like your hair. You- You have nice hair.”

I arched an eyebrow, considering their features in profile, distantly amused at their steadily increasing blush. “You have nice hair, too,” I replied at length, reaching out to tug gently on the short ringlets that made up their ponytail. They blushed harder, turning onto the gravel road without looking at me, seemingly speechless for a moment as I smirked.

This is nice.

It’s been a long time since we flirted with anyone.

It’s been a long time since we felt comfortable enough with anyone to flirt.

The realisation left me dumbfounded, still staring in disbelief as they parked the car. Glancing curiously at me, they bit their lip, picking anxiously at the skin around their thumb when they found my eyes still trailing their features. “I- You’re, uh… You’re staring a little. I mean, it- it’s fine, I just- I wanted to make sure there’s not, y’know, something on my face, or something, or-”

“No,” I interrupted softly, offering them a gentle, soothing smile when their eyes flicked to me once more, wide and uncertain. “No, there’s not- nothing like that. I, uh… It’s been a real long time since we… Since anybody was nice to me, just for the hell of it.”

They paused before turning to face me, considering me for a moment, head cocked. “That sounds like a lonely way to live,” they volunteered at length, and I nodded shortly. “Well, I’ll always be nice to you, so you’ve got that now, okay?”

Their face split into a broad grin as I nodded again, letting out a quiet, affectionate chuckle. “Okay.”

I waited, stood leant against the car with a cigarette hanging from my lip, foot tapping nervously as Mars’ absence grew longer. It was quieter here, and my fear less overwhelming – but that didn’t stop me from eyeing the door uncertainly, watching for any sign of trouble.

You should have gone with them.

They told me I could stay out here…

They’re so small, so sweet… Anything could happen to them.

Aren’t they more at risk with us than without? We’re not… Safe.

And if anyone were to recognise us…

I shook my head hard, passing a  thick stream of smoke from my nose. “Look, I just thought-”

My jaw snapped shut at the sight of my companion pushing their way through the door, a drink in each hand and a small bag hanging from their pinkie. The way their eyes lit up and they beamed eagerly at the sight of me waiting made my own lips turn up in a smile, chortling as they offered me a clumsy wave and yelped in panic, the drinks tipping ominously.

“Nothing happened. You saw nothing,” they insisted breezily, offering me my cup with a grin, and I snorted.

“Mhm, sure,” I agreed readily, taking a long pull on my straw before releasing it with a quiet groan. “God, that’s good,” I sighed, head falling back.” I never expected Seattle to get so damn hot.”

They chuckled and nodded, taking their own sip before replying. “This is a particularly brutal one,” they admitted. “You got unlucky. Not a fan of the heat?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” I replied softly, thinking, just for a moment, of the endless icy wastelands of Siberia – of cold so intense that each breath was agony on the lungs. I wanted to love days like this, with heat so strong that I could feel my skin burning and bronzing the moment the first rays of daylight fell upon me.

But I hadn’t had a sunburn in a long time, and I never acclimated to the heat after spending the better part of a century – and most of my transformation from regular soldier to international assassin – in one form of ice or another.

Even my biothermal processes couldn’t forget.

“I know what you mean,” they agreed thoughtfully, taking a drag of a violently yellow drink that smelled so sickly sweet that my nose wrinkled from three feet away. “I’m half-Egyptian; I should love the heat! But nope – I’m a much bigger fan of rain , thanks.” They delved into their bag once more and withdrew a pair of plastic-wrapped ice lollies, liquid already beginning to pool around the base. “Aw, crap. Probably should have got these out first, huh?”

They offered me one as I chuckled, and I watched as they tore away the clear packaging carelessly, sticky juice immediately running over the curve of their fingers and racing toward the delicate dip of their wrist. With a squeak of surprise from them, and a fond grin from me, they chased the errant liquid with a small, pointed, lemon-tinged tongue, lapping up the fleeing droplets with a practiced precision that made me unexplainably happy.

Mars met my gaze, blushing at the sight of my smile and amused, arched eyebrow, and I reached out to pet their arm affectionately. “I didn’t see  a thing,” I assured them with a chuckle, earning a laugh and an affectionate elbow to the ribs for my humour. “How do you have so much energy? It’s so early.”

They shrugged, assessing their popsicle for a moment, falling quiet and pensive. “I have ADHD and insomnia,” they offered eventually, pausing to draw the frozen treat slowly between their lips in an unconscious gesture that made the back of my neck sweat. “I’m always tired, and always energised. It can be a frustrating combination.”

I hummed sympathetically, nodding, eyes lowering to watch my popsicle to drip slowly into the dust by our feet. “Yeah… I’m not unaccustomed to a lack of sleep myself – though I don’t think I’ve felt energised in longer than I care to remember.”

With a wan smile, they squeezed my forearm softly when my gaze rose to theirs once more. “A fellow insomniac?”

My hand waggled. “Hypothetically? No. I… Have bad dreams.” My response was weak, and it felt a pale representation of what I experienced – terrifying flashes of blood and screaming, half-remembered scenes from a life that was barely my own. Their pitying gaze made me blush, my arm pulling from theirs to push a hand through my hair shyly. “I, uh… I guess I’m a damaged soul, huh?”

My chuckle and light-hearted comment fell flat, smile fading at the sincerity in their dark eyes. “No… I think you’re better than you think you are, James.”

Snorting, I shrugged, shaking my head. “No, I don’t think I am. I’m telling you; I’m haunted.”

I hated acknowledging this part of myself – hated giving this kind, gracious soul a reason to look at me with suspicion and wariness earlier than they found one of their own.

But I couldn’t let them begin to think positively of me – it would only end in disappointment.

They watched me silently, mahogany eyes locked on mine, probing and intense. “… That part, I believe,” they murmured softly, scrutinising every millimetre of my face attentively. “I… Definitely believe you’ve got a few ghosts who won’t give you peace.”

I held my head high for a moment before looking away, jaw clenched. “I… Used to be in Army,” I offered, quiet and uncertain, fingers curled into fists inside gloves that made no seasonal sense. “I saw some things – and did some things – that I’ll… They’ll never… I’ll never be able to forget it. I’m not… A good person, Mars. That period of my life left me with a lot of damage, in every sense. You’d be smart to keep your distance from me,” I finished quietly, my gaze trained stiffly on the ground.

I hate this.

I know. But… They need to know. It’s better they run fast, and they run far, and the sooner that happens, the better it is for everyone.

I felt the third hum in agreement, and finally looked back to Mars. They seemed thoroughly unphased, dragging the remnants of their popsicle off the stick with their teeth and sucking thoughtfully on the ice before responding. “My mum always said I have no common sense.” They shrugged and grinned, lips tinged with that vibrantly yellow drink. “Look – if you don’t like me, or don’t want my company, or whatever, then that’s fine; I know I can be a little too much for some people. You can just tell me – I’m an adult, I can handle it. But if you think you’re doing some… Dumb attempt at chivalry? Then get over it, drink your lemonade, and let’s go find you a dog.”

They straightened up, leaning to drop their cup in a trashcan, while I simply gawked in silence at their vehemence. “I…”

“Yes?” they hummed, turning to set that penetrating gaze on me once more.

I swallowed and looked away, tossing my own trash into the can as a gentle heat rose in my cheeks.

“I guess we should go, then.”

We proceeded in a companionable silence, save the odd comment from Mars when they expressed enthusiasm about a particularly noteworthy tree, or went off on a seemingly spontaneous monologue without a clear cause, leaving me to smile fondly and wonder once more at the inner workings of their peculiar, intoxicating mind.

By the time we pulled up to a low brick building, my cheeks ached from laughing, any anxiety I felt about the process before me stripped away without my awareness by my companion. But my hands began to shake once more as I slid from the car, the far-off, muffled sound of barking painfully clear with my heightened senses.

“You doing okay?” Mars pressed softly, glancing at my trembling fingers with a sympathetic smile. I nodded silently, but when I didn’t move, they extended a hand to me – a silent, unforced offer of support, should I need it.

I barely hesitated before my fingers wrapped with theirs, only my thin glove acting as a barrier between metal and flesh. Distantly, I worried they’d notice the hard, cool material of the prosthetic – but their expression showed no change as they squeezed my hand gently before leading me forward.

I stood silently as they spoke to the desk clerk, lost in an overwhelmed haze, my gaze flicking between the large number of posters behind the desk, a heavy door off to one side, and a constantly rotating slideshow of tips for dog ownership – trying and failing to note everything of importance all at once. Mars tugged gently on my fingers, startling me from my panic and I looked down at them in surprise as they gestured over their shoulder. “I explained what you’re looking for, and they have a suggestion – they’re gonna bring him out to meet us, okay? So we’re just gonna take a seat here for a minute while they grab him.” I nodded again, tongue seeming thick and clumsy, and let them guide me across to the hard plastic chairs, their hand still firm in mine. “You okay?” they murmured under their breath, shooting me a brief glance as I nodded once more.

“It’s… A lot,” I acknowledged eventually, free hand gesturing toward the array of information on display. “How am I supposed to know it all?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not,” they snorted. “Even out of the things that actually relevant to you… About ninety percent will be ‘don’t feed your dog this’ and ‘don’t feed your dog that’. But, you know… Google exists, and you’ll retain some of the more common stuff over time. Basically, just don’t deliberately feed him anything you don’t know he can eat, and you’ll be fine.” They offered me a reassuring grin, and I returned a soft smile, comforted by their presence.

The second the door opened, I was smitten.

The gangly tan legs were flecked with dark stripes, leading endlessly up to a stocky body and enormous head, a tongue the size of my palm lolling between two rows of pristine teeth. A white blaze trailed from throat to chest before vanishing beneath him, intersected only by the lime-green strap of his harness. To this there was attached a short leash, the person on the other end straining to contain the furry bulldozer that seemed hellbent on reaching us, brown eyes fixed intently on my face as his thick tail lashed with an audible, dull thud against the attendant’s leg. The dark smear of his muzzle tipped up, and they winced pre-emptively as the maw grew wider. The bark didn’t bother me, much to my surprise, despite the booming sound making my oversensitive ears ring and my bones shake. But I could only laugh, leaning forward in my seat, bubbles of joy building in my

chest, captivated by those hyper-focused eyes still locked on mine with a single-minded determination and the non-silent jaws parted in a goofy grin. “He’s incredible,” I whispered, inching as near as I could without falling to my knees.

“Want him to come a bit closer?” Mars prompted, and I nodded wordlessly, barely conscious of them indicating for the attendant to approach.

They tried to take a step forward, but the slavering beast on the other end of the braided nylon had other ideas. He lunged toward us, straining and hauling against the leash, dragging the unwilling attendant along with him.

My hands were quickly filled with short fur and muscles trembling with delight, a broad tongue passing over my face in long, eager strokes. Mars moved beside me, concern creasing their features, but they paused when the giggles building in my chest bubbled between my lips, pressed against the colossal head clutched against me. “He’s perfect,” I breathed, glove-coated metal fingers curled against the brindle coat possessively.

“His name is Zeus,” the attendant offered, reaching to tousle the dog’s ears with a bemused, fond expression. I grinned up at them, and they smiled back. “He’s a good boy. He’s just… Too strong, for a lot of folks. Myself included,” they added, snorting.

“I can really take him home?” I clarified, landing heavily on my backside as I let the wriggling hound push me over.

“If you want to,” Mars confirmed, their own fingertips brushing over the dog’s head. I nodded hard, holding him to me with something akin to desperation, earning a chuckle and an affectionate tip of their head. “Then let’s sign some papers, hm?”

I let myself and my new housemate into my apartment, the mastiff mix barrelling through the space with reckless abandon. His feet slid on the laminate wood, claws skittering in a comical, delightful din, punctuated by the intermittent snorts and sniffs as he investigated this novel environment.

Mars stood beside me in the open doorway as we hesitated in unison, silence stretching between us to the backing track of Zeus’ exploration and the heavy rain outside.

“… I should probably-”

“… I don’t suppose you’d like to-”

Our eyes cut to one another, and we grinned simultaneously, shy and uncertain. With a deep breath and an uncomfortable rub of the back of my neck, I tried again. “Would you like to… Come in? Have a cup of coffee, or something?” I offered, feeling a timid blush creeping up my throat. With an equally shy flush, they nodded, offering me a sheepish smile when they passed me at my indication.

It wasn’t until they were further into the apartment that I winced and looked around myself, struck by how sparse the space was when seeing it while considering the eyes of another. I really did own very little – the stained, second-hand mattress sitting bare on the frame was the only sign of life aside from a half-empty box of personal effects on the dusty table.

That, and the copious dog-related items.

His blanket and bed were set up beside my own, despite my sheets still twisted and curled in on themselves in my sanctuary under the table. His bowls sat in one corner in their stand, his nose buried in the water bowl as he gulped and lapped noisily, slobber dripping onto the mat below and eliciting a chuckle from us both. There were leashes and bags and food on the counter of the kitchen in the corner, and a pile of soft toys and balls beside the sofa that was here when I moved in, the faux leather cracked and faded.

I glanced at them worriedly, checking for their reaction. The flicker of surprise was brief but definite, and I felt shame crawl up my spine, even as their expression settled into something more neutral. I cleared my throat, uncomfortable even as they turned their non-judgemental gaze to me. “Uh… Take a seat anywhere you’d like, I guess. I won’t be a minute.” With a nod, they moved to the beaten sofa, face splitting into a broad grin as Zeus dropped his heavy, still-dripping head in their lap, new tags gleaming around his throat.

He’d been perfectly behaved in the car, lying down in the backseat without complaint, large nose turned toward the warm air flowing through the open window and relishing the scents. But any sense of calm evaporated once more when we arrived at the parking lot beside Paws for Applause and freed him from the harness that secured him for the drive. The collar he wore, courtesy of the shelter, had all but choked him on the short walk to the car, and now it groaned and complained under the strain as he dragged desperately at the end of leash, wheezing with desire to consume the endless new aromas washing over him.

We’d already agreed on his need for a harness as we drove, and watching him struggle to breathe against my immovable grip on the leash only solidified the point. Mars motioned for me to let him run free once we entered the store, and he needed no further encouragement to explore the space, his coal-smeared muzzle stuffed everywhere he could reach. My eyes flicked worriedly to the store owner beside me, but they simply laughed, shaking their head fondly as the dog found a pig ear to chew on and settled contentedly on the floor.

His new lime-green harness was in the bag clutched in my hand- along with several other things he had dragged from shelves and I hadn’t the heart to deny him. I eyed the dirty dishes in the sink with a curl of my lip, dropping my gloves beside the bag to wash my only two mugs as the kettle boiled.

The clouds that had begun to gather since we left the store finally broke, and I leaned over the sink to open the window, deeply breathing the fresh air. The raindrops echoed on the roof of the empty house, and I

closed my eyes for just a moment, letting the feeling of quiet wash over me, hands stilling in their cleaning.

“James?”

The soft voice startled me, lids snapping open, and I jerked back, ashamed, angry at myself for having been caught to vulnerable. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” They spoke gently, but their eyes assessed every inch of my face, intense and probing.

“Fine,” I replied stiffly, reaching past them to snag the tattered towel on the counter.

Too late, I realised my mistake, light catching on metal as I began to draw back. Their gaze followed the flicker, widening infinitesimally at the sight of the prosthetic before snapping back to my own, inquisitive and curious in an entirely new way. “I-”

“We’re out of coffee,” I interrupted sharply, placing the clean mug on the counter and sliding my hands into my pockets nonchalantly. “So, I guess you should be going. Thanks again.”

They blinked owlishly, startled, and I winced internally at the ripple of hurt that passed briefly over their features. “I… Y-yeah. Okay…”

My steps were directly behind their own as they headed to the door, pausing briefly to pet the dog and croon sweet, soft nothings to him, hesitating again only when they stood at the threshold, their brow furrowed in confusion. “Well… If you need anything, you-”

“We’ll be fine. We’ve got it from here.”

They flinched at my cold, dismissive tone, and guilt squeezed my chest, but I simply gazed at them impassively as they nodded once more. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Goodbye, Mars.”

“Bye, Bucky.”

I closed the door behind them with a growing, unplaceable sense of

unease, moving to sit on the sofa and staring down at my fingers until they were headbutted violently by my wagging companion. Smiling weakly, I trailed my hand over his neck. “Not sure what it is that’s got me so nervous, bud. All they said was ‘bye, Bu-’”

My blood ran cold as realisation hit, gaze moving to the door in fear and horror.

They know who we are.

[evadne01]

One Last Deal ~ Chapter 3 : Just because it's in the past, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt

@julybreakbingo: Hollywood AU, “My life is one tragic mistake”, Location: Bookstore, Accident, Sleepless Night or Standing in the Rain, “No?”, Lemonade, “I don’t have a choice”, “I don’t trust you anymore”, A Distant Memory, Location: Small Town, Obsessive Love, “I’m still in love with you.”, Slow Burn

@multifandom-flash: Global Forgiveness Day & Apologies: This is Unforgivable!, round 3, card 2002: The Butler did it

[lighthousenewsnetwork]

GENEVA, Switzerland - In a move that's sure to revolutionize international power struggles, the United Nations unveiled its latest conflict resolution strategy today: the "Just Say Sorry" Initiative. This groundbreaking program encourages warring nations to simply apologize for their transgressions, replacing tedious trials and pesky sanctions with a sincere mea culpa. "Gone are the days of messy geopolitical squabbles," declared Bartholomew Bungleton, the UN's Undersecretary-General for Apology Procurement and Sincerity Verification (AUPSV). Bungleton, whose oversized spectacles seemed perpetually on the verge of slipping off his nose, beamed at the assembled press corps. "With 'Just Say Sorry,' we're streamlining the process, allowing nations to focus on more important things... like choosing new national apology fonts." The initiative received enthusiastic support from the global community of conflict resolution experts. "This is a game-changer," enthused Professor Bartholomew Bartholomew (no relation to Bungleton), a renowned international law clown. "Imagine, instead of a drawn-out Hague tribunal, a heartfelt apology delivered by a nation in a soothing, remorseful tone. It's conflict resolution with the emotional heft of a Hallmark card commercial!" The program boasts several key advantages. Firstly, it's incredibly cost-effective. Gone are the days of expensive war crimes trials and lengthy ICC investigations. Now, a nation simply needs to hire a good apology consultant and maybe stock up on some tissues for the televised address. Secondly, "Just Say Sorry" fosters international forgiveness. After all, who can stay mad at a nation that weeps on camera and expresses its deepest regrets? World leaders can expect a surge in their approval ratings – assuming, of course, their apology doesn't sound too rehearsed or involve air quotes. Of course, some historical figures wouldn't have faced much trouble under the new program. Imagine Hitler offering a tearful apology for the Holocaust, complete with subtitles in 27 languages. Stalin might have gotten away with a simple "Our bad" for the Holodomor, perhaps delivered with a sheepish grin. Legally, the initiative raises some interesting questions. Will there be a "Sorry Court" to adjudicate the sincerity of apologies? Will nations be required to offer compensation packages alongside their mea culpas? And what happens if a nation refuses to apologize? Do they get a timeout in the international community corner? According to Bungleton, these are all minor details that can be ironed out later. "The key takeaway here," he emphasized, brandishing a laminated flowchart titled "The Sincerity Spectrum," "is that apologies are good for international relations. They lubricate the wheels of diplomacy. They're like the social lubricant of the geopolitical sphere!" Predictably, the program has its detractors. Human rights organizations scoff at the idea of replacing justice with a mere apology, questioning whether it offers any real solace to victims. Some nations expressed concerns that "Just Say Sorry" could embolden belligerent regimes, allowing them to commit atrocities with minimal consequences. But Bungleton dismissed these concerns with a dismissive wave. "Look," he said, adjusting his spectacles yet again, "sometimes a simple apology is all it takes to heal old wounds. Plus, think of all the awkward silences it'll eliminate at diplomatic dinners. Everyone wins!" So, the next time tensions rise between nations, don't expect a swift military response or a scathing UN resolution. Instead, get ready for a heartfelt apology delivered by a world leader, complete with shaky voice and crocodile tears. Welcome to the new era of conflict resolution, where "I'm sorry" is the magic word for world peace (or at least a temporary ceasefire). Call to Action: Join the "Just Say Sorry" movement! Demand your elected officials apologize for literally everything – from traffic jams to the national debt. After

all, apologies are cheap, and who knows, maybe they'll work! Just don't expect a refund for that parking ticket. Apparently, apologies have their limits.

[2346khith]

Hi,

I am Mahmoud from Gaza🍉🇵🇸.

I am 14 years old.

I support a family of 5 people because my father is sick and cannot work.

I work all day for $2 to provide a living for my family and medicine for my father.

Our house in Khan Yunis was completely destroyed.

I hope you can help me by donating via the link or posting 🍉🍉

My link has been verified: @beesandwatermelons - Line #196

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #141 )

A small donation 30$ can make a big difference 🙏🍉🇵🇸, I hope you donate 🍉

https://chuffed.org/project/114286-help-nabulsi-family

For those who see this please, visit their blog and reblog their blog’s posts so they  get more attention and if you have the money to spare please donate.

Also I apologize, but I do not have the ability to donate to you. Trust me if I had the ability I would but I don't and I can't. I have no bank account or credit card to transfer money to and no job to gain any money. Every time I ask my parents to help they shut me down so this is the only way to help you. Please forgive me.

[lancermylove]

Too Late (Oneshot)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x fem!Reader

Warning: MAJOR angst, reader’s death, mention of blood

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can i get a oneshot of victor

Word Count: 2,158

A/N: The reader is looking back on past event and reflecting, so flashbacks (italicized text) are in narrator’s POV, while the present (reg text) is in the reader’s POV. 

———————————————

Since childhood, I have always stood by his side and took care of him. Whenever people saw the two of us interacting, they immediately assumed we were a couple. Even the employees at LFG gossiped about us, saying that I was Victor's lady but he wanted to keep our relationship a secret. 

Without knocking on the door, you walked into Victor's office, holding a collection of shopping bags. "Hi, Victor. Let me guess you forgot to eat lunch?"

The CEO shifted his attention from the computer screen to you and examined the bags. "Someone had a lot of free time today. Did you purchase the entire mall?"

"Wait, can I buy the whole mall?" You playfully asked while carefully setting the paper bags on the couch.

"If you plan to, warn me ahead of time," the CEO chuckled, removing his reading glasses and setting them on a stack of unsigned papers. He sighed quietly and rubbed his eyes with his right index finger and thumb.

"Why do you take so much stress?" You walked behind his chair, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, and pressed your lips on the side of his head. The subtle scent of his shampoo tickled your nose. "I know you're the CEO, but Vic, you need to rest once in a while."

"I'm fine, (Y/N)," Victor delicately touched one of your arms and whispered, "you worry too much."

"If I won't worry, then who will?" You giggled, resting your forehead against the side of his head. "Now, let's eat! I'm starving."

“You have not had lunch yet?” The raven-haired man inquired in a concerned voice, raising an eyebrow. 

“How could I eat lunch knowing you haven’t eaten yet?”

Victor was aware of my feelings for him; he had known for years that I loved him, so why were his eyes only for her? She had done nothing for him and only caused him trouble, so why? No matter how much time I spent with him, his mind was preoccupied with her. Even on my special day, he was with her.

You waited on the sofa wearing his favorite black, backless dress with a pearl shoulder necklace. Every few seconds, your eyes shifted between the main door and your cellphone. You told yourself that he will walk in or call you any minute. You made excuses to appease your restless mind.

"There must be a lot of traffic, or maybe, he is stuck in a meeting. What if he is planning a big surprise for me?"

Seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by, but there was no sign of Victor. You spent your entire birthday waiting for him, but he never showed up.

The sound of a loud knock forced your heavy, bloodshot eyes to open. Even after the events of the previous day, only one name escaped your lips, "Victor?"

You rose from the sofa and hurried to the door in hopes of seeing your love; instead, you found a shimmer blue present sitting on your doorstep with a purple envelope on top. Picking up the box, you closed the door and dragged your heavy body back to the living room. As soon as you bent down to set the present on the center table, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. Your cheeks were stained by your dark mascara and eyeliner, your red lipstick smudged past your lips, and your hair was disheveled.

"What a mess..." you mumbled under your breath and averted your eyes.

You carefully opened the envelope and pulled out an elegant ivory-colored birthday card. He apologized to you multiple times, but your eyes repeatedly darted back to one sentence: I had to attend to an urgent matter.

"Urgent matter...right," you snickered and hung your head, feeling a strong burning sensation in your eyes once again.

He apologized many times, and I didn't want to forgive him, but my heart refused to cooperate. Did he forget the promise he made to me when we were kids? 

“I promise to always spend your birthday with you, no matter what! I will always find a way to come see you on your birthday.” 

I remember how happy I was hearing those words on a clear, sunny day in our favorite park. The words that I held close to my heart seemed like nothing but an empty promise from him. I didn't want to forgive him, but in the matter of the mind and heart, the heart somehow always emerges as the victor. 

Then came the day where she broke his heart and went to another man. Despite everything, I opened my arms for him and stood firmly by his side. I even stayed with him in his home to make sure he didn't take stress or overwork himself more than usual. As if blessing me for my good deeds, Victor slowly started to open up to me.

"Why are you still awake? It's 4 am, and you have a meeting at 8 am." You groggily stepped into Victor's bedroom, rubbing your sleep-filled eyes.

"I am almost done with this report. Why are you awake?" He asked with his eyes still on the stack of papers in his hand.

"A nightmare woke me up...so I thought to check on you."

Victor momentarily glanced at you before setting the report down on the nightstand. He stretched out a hand towards you and gently whispered, "Come here."

Wordlessly, you stepped closer to him and took a hold of his warm, large hand. Victor helped you onto his bed and pulled a gray cotton blanket over your body.

"Sleep here for tonight."

He turned off the light and settled down on the mattress, facing you. Victor ran his long fingers through your hair in an attempt to help you fall asleep. In all the years you knew him, never once had Victor touched you in such a tender manner.

At that moment, I started to think everything was working in my favor, and life was finally smiling at me. But who was I kidding? Once again, she came back and ruined my life.

"I am sorry, Victor," she hid her face in her hands and sobbed, "I shouldn't have left you. Please, forgive me."

You stood a few feet away watching her cry as Victor comforted her. Then she said the words you prayed she wouldn't. "Please, give me a second chance."

Victor hesitated for a while but eventually gave a small nod, "Fine. Will you stop crying now, dummy?"

A sharp pain shot through your chest as you felt your heart shatter to pieces. Blinking rapidly, you tried to fight back the tears clouding your eyes in vain. You covered your mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping and backed away, step-by-step, your eyes fixed on the back of his head.

Victor snapped his head towards you when he heard your footsteps retreating in a hurry. He stared with wide eyes for a second before squeezing his eyes shut. The corners of his lips tugged down as his head lowered.

I loved him to no end, but why couldn't he see it? Why did he always favor her over me? Was I truly that...worthless? To add to this pain, my family started to pressurize me into marriage, but I refused. I told them my heart only belong to one man, but they didn't listen. Unfortunately, I only had one person to turn to for comfort, so I ran to into his arms and cried my heart.

"I don't want to marry a random man," you cried in his chest, "but they won't stop pressurizing me. What do I do?"

Victor's muscles stiffened at hearing the word 'marriage'. He silently exhaled, placing one hand on the back of your head while wrapping the other around your waist.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained quiet. His silence made your world crumble, and the little hope you had left diminished.

Why didn’t he say anything? Did my pain not affect him, or did he not care? They kept pushing me even more after that, and ultimately gave me a final warning, marry Victor or marry the man they chose for me. My family's only goal was to help their sinking business by finding a rich husband for me. I went to him yet again and broke down completely.

You kneeled in the middle of his office and hung your head low, letting tears drop onto the black tiles beneath you. The coolness in the tiles seeped into your otherwise burning body. "Why are they trying to ruin my life?" 

Victor kneeled in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your upper back. 

"Victor, please do something," you bawled in desperation, knowing that he had the power to change the outcome. He averted his eyes from your crying form and stared at the fireplace, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter. 

You lent me a shoulder to cry on, but why didn't you say anything? That day I left your office empty-handed and angry - not angry at him, but myself for thinking he would help me.  

Then came the day of my forced marriage to a man who I hadn't even seen. From the new reports, I knew Victor was in a different country for a global conference, but I still didn't lose hope. Why was I so foolish? Why did I think he would walk in at any moment and rescue me like a fairytale prince on a white stallion? I waited and waited, but he never came. I should have expected this, but I was such a fool.

Days and months passed but Victor never contacted me, not even to ask if I was okay. Would I have told him the truth if he called to ask? Would I have told him that my husband doesn't care about the marriage or me? That my marriage was completely meaningless. That my dear husband hadn't even kissed me once, let alone touch me. That I was glad he wasn’t interested me because I only dreamed of kissing only one man. That I hate everything, everyone, and was reaching my limit.

I stared at the pearl-like raindrops rolling down the bedroom window and forced a chuckle. It was comforting to know that at least nature cared about me. Was nature crying for me? I tilted my head to look at the cellphone beside me and stared at the black screen. What was I hoping for? He didn't care back then, he still doesn't care, and he won't care tomorrow. Not a single person in my life cares, which I guess is good, considering that no one will be sad.  My husband will find some other woman, my family has their prospering business, and Victor has her.

"Well, l-looks like it's almost time." I turned my head to look at the rain one last time as my vision began to blur. Within seconds, my head began to spin. Probably from the blood draining out of the cuts on my wrist.

"G-Goodbye, V-Victor...I hope you're always happy."

As soon as those words escaped my lips, I felt like laughing at myself for still being a fool. Even in my final moments, I couldn't stop thinking of him.

------

The raindrops continuously fell from the sky, each drop hitting the ground with a loud thud. Goldman followed Victor from a safe distance, curious to find out where the CEO was headed. The secretary nearly lost his footing when he saw his boss walk into a cemetery. He hid behind a tree close to the grave and quietly watched his employer.

Victor crouched down in front of a black granite stone slab and gently placed a bouquet of white camellias on it.

"Hey," he whispered in an exhausted voice as he brushed his fingertips on the rain-drenched stone slab. Goldman watched as Victor lowered his head and rested the flat of his right palm on the grave.

"Forgive me for not visiting for a few days...I was out of the country." Victor blinked his eyes rapidly and forced the corners of his lips up. "I...ate lunch already and..."

Goldman's eyes widened when he heard his boss sniffle. He leaned a little closer to make sure his imagination was not getting the better of him.

"(Y/N), h-happy birt-" Victor choked on his words and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few moments to gather himself before standing up and trudging towards the exit.

The secretary studied his boss's slumped shoulders and heavy footsteps in confusion. As soon as Victor disappeared out of sight, Goldman carefully walked to the black granite slab and followed the bouquet up to the tombstone.

"Let's see...," he adjusted his glasses and read the words inscribed on the gravestone, "To all those reading this, tell the person you love your feelings before it's too late and all that's left is regret."

———————————————

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

[inflnite]

@wildviolcts

Morgan could not remember the last time she had sat in an interview. It had been years since anyone had asked her to tell them about a time when… Nor had she updated her resumé since the heels of her shoes first clicked against the marble floors of the Charles Schwab lobby. Associate Financial Consultant, Global Equities was the entry-level role her Bachelors in Finance from NYU had afforded her. Twenty-five thousand hours spent pouring over financial models and equities. Twenty-five thousand hours spent calculating liquidity, assets and throwing around numbers with more zeros than any morality should allow. Twenty-five thousand hours spent missing sending apology cards and flowers for missed dates, calling her mother to disappoint her with her absence from Thanksgiving, Christmas and Birthday dinners. She was no longer the same greenhorn finance graduate, who wobbled in heels and fingers trembled when she spoke on the phone with investors.

She was a competitor, and it was the single advantage she had in the finance world dominated by men. Morgan expected perfection from her colleagues, and even more of herself. After all, they worked in a business of risk and assurance. Risk was always found in the unknowns- the single enemy of a good investment opportunity. Always first to the office, and last to leave, she stepped on the neck and suffocated any word to question her abilities, her determination, or her drive. Morgan presented herself as an assurance, a straight-forward, early investment opportunity for the firm to capitalise on. It was the reason she had risen above the rest of her graduate peers. She would win no popularity contests, but her insights had fattened the wallets of her clients, and added zeros to the portfolio of her firm.

Morgan prided herself on her keen eye, an ability to see value before the writing was scrawled on the wall. Something she was sure Maxwell from Human Resources lacked. She could only guess by her dismissal of her third executive assistant in as many months. (One mistake was forgivable. Two, however, was banishment. She could not miss investor meetings simply because of her assistant's moment of scheduling forgetfulness at best, ineptitude to operate a simple fucking calendar at worst.) 'A difference in selection criteria' was how she had carefully worded her nebulous rebuke of the failure to hire a competent candidate. Her email was polite, before closing with a demand an assurance that she was more of capable of conducting the selection process again, herself. She made multi-million dollar decisions, she could pick out an assistant that could answer her calls.

At least, that's what she had told herself. But after sifting through the first few resumés that had landed on her desk, with a hundred more still printing, the blue pen she had carefully selected for annotating and striking through the lifetimes of achievements, lulled in her hand. What was she looking for? An equal. Meticulous, driven, thick-skinned and not afraid of doing the work. Someone who would understand the pressure of her job, and clear the path of the menial, and trivial work that pulled her focus away from the decisions only she could make. Someone who could put up with her temper, and her direct words, and still perform at their best. She couldn't help but smile to herself, at the absurdity of it all. She doesn't exist. As far as her dating exploits had informed her- her equal was not wandering New York.

Of the few resumés that had not been culled for various reasons (spelling or grammar mistakes, menial college alma mater, unsuitable font choice, inappropriate use of colour on a formal document, an email address that was certainly set up as a teenager in the early 2000s, to name a few,) a single round of interviews began. She had scheduled them one after another, determined not to spend more than a day (let alone the entire week HR had taken previously). By the time she walked out of the building for the evening, she was confident she would have called to make an offer.

Midday had passed, as had half of the field of candidates. The sleeves of her neatly pressed dress shirt were folded up her forearms, her top button undone- signs of frustration by the lack of chemistry her efforts had yielded.

She stood in greeting from behind her uncharacteristically tidy table, unusually bare of the documents that required her sign off, investor reports, contracts from legal and the rest of the paperwork that plastered her broad, lacquered wood desk. Morgan noted the unusual light in her office- the early afternoon sun, streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the corner office, reflected off of the empty surface of her desk and arms of her cream leather sofa. All but four items had been cleared from her desk; a resumé, a notepad, a blue pen and her coffee cup. She appraised the woman as she had walked into her office- on time and neat in her appearance. A pretty face. A firm handshake. Morgan smiled politely as she gestured for the woman to sit across from her. "Miss Doss," she spoke to herself, her fingers finding the freshly printed resumé with the small blue asterisks and circles she had added in her preparation the evening before. Morgan let the silence linger as her eyes scanned the resumé, as if she needed a reminder of the life achievements of the candidate in front of her. As if she had not studied them carefully over tea late yesterday evening. After a few moments pause, she cleared her throat. "I must say, your resumé reads well. Scholarship at Barnard. Bachelors in English. Your letter of recommendation… Your professor speaks to your abilities. More than my own professors would have spoke of mine." She placed the resumé on her table, and picked up the pen, tapping the nib on the blank piece of lined paper. Her eyes locked with Violet's- the resumé sung, as did the commendations of her professor. There was assurance. But what was her risk? What was her unknown? "You tell a compelling story with all of these pieces put together. But there is one thing I'm left questioning. Why do you want this job? Judging by your major, and your extracurriculars, I don't see an interest in Finance, nor an undying love of organising someone else's professional life. By your professor's account, you have a promising set of skills for your area of study. So, why are we meeting today?"

[verona-swift]

I'm not important enough to have someone ask me these, but I like them.

2. I said I love you to a bird I saw on a window still this afternoon.

3. Regrets? Everyone has little regrets - those daily twinges of "ooh, I ought not have done that, shouldn't have said that," but those are easy to brush off. For regrets in life? No. I'm happy with the choices I've made and where they've led me.

4. Gleefully single, and will remain so!

8. I've played hockey and softball for a season, soccer for 6 or so years in the summer, and swimming from 7th grade to senior year. Fun fact, my school team one a single swim meet, and only because the other team's coach resigned (the other team was being catty). A single win in 6 years, astonishing.

12. Yes and I hated every minute of it. I don't drink caffeine, so I rely on genuine sleep to function. I can't handle all-nighters.

18. I absolutely love spiders. I'm well known for humanely capturing spiders in the office to release outside, as well as giving them little nicknames. I find them weirdly adorable.

21. Platelet donation, followed by my weekly Pathfinder group! Fun times.

25. I miss my grandpa. The one year anniversary of his passing was in September, on the day the Queen died. I like to think Grandpa came down to finish the job.

32. Purple. My obsession with the color started in kindergarten; the teacher made a board with all the colors and told us to put our names under our favorite color. I was going to choose like red or something, but noticed that there were no names under purple and felt bad that the color wasn't picked. I was a weird kid sometimes.

36. Oh absolutely. I'm very quick to forgive, though forgetting may take time. It's a rare thing for me to refuse to forgive someone, so long as they genuinely apologize and grow. Leading to...

37. It's easier to forgive, certainly. You can decide that you can move past the pain while still remembering the blow that caused it. It's not a bad thing to remember those things - it teaches you to be a bit more wary of the person in the future, which may save you from future harm.

42. You skipped 41 through 49. The disrespect to the forties.

52. Not really, no. Life can be unpredictable, and that's what I appreciate. I dislike the concept of fate.

54. I cheated in cards lol.

55. I like to think I'm pretty chill.

59. I'm the weirdo of the office for my love of snow. Don't tell them, but a part of it is my unease with the effects of global warming and how much rarer good, solid snow storms have become in my area.

62. I'm very task oriented. If I complete a goal, I feel positively giddy. But I'm easily amused as well.

66. Yes! My friend group is solid, and none of us feel the need to hide ourselves. That includes my male friend.

69. Not in the slightest.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[thefanficmistress]

Just Rest Dear: Requested ☆

Requested by : @purplerain85 - Hope you enjoy it. Something small and sweet.  ____________

Warnings: Fluff Pairing: Richard Armitage x Reader, Richard Armitage x Female Character, Richard Armitage x OC Context © me _______________ TAG LIST: @deepestfirefun @shikin83 @catthefearless @patanghill17 @aelinninielelain @xxbyimm @nowiloveandwilllove @nellindreams @hails270105 @armitages-gisborne @jassy2101 @abiwim @anemiechen @nelswp​ @fizzyxcustard @purplerain85​ @armitageadoration​ @princecami​ @princess-of-erebor1992 @leah-halliwell92​ @vaneaustin @nellindreams​ @raindrops-on-roses142 @wilhelmyna @pixiedurango​ @theincaprincess​

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. _________ Current Requests: JANUARY - Closed @purplerain85 ( A Kiss in the Wild ) @deepestfirefun ( Because I love you ) @nowiloveandwilllove ( My Friend, My Beloved )  @deepestfirefun  ( Mother, May I? ) Part 1 Part 2

Current Requests: FEBRUARY - CLOSED @purplerain85 ( Just Rest Dear ) - RA Request @deepestfirefun  ( Spy to Smitten ) - RA Request @ nowiloveandwilllove ( Remembering Us ) - RA Request 

Current Requests: MARCH - Closed

Message me if you would like a FanFic Sunday Request. __________________ It’s midnight and you stare at the clock on your desk and sigh. Dropping your pen on the desk, you putt your hands over your face, and let out a little scream of frustration. You were tired, and longed for your bed, and the arms of the love of your life. Not to mention food. It was the end of the month and your quarterly reports were due for your department. You were a Global Services Coordinator for a large company, and the Team Lead for your department. It didn’t always feel like you were, when your own boss would leave their work for you to do. So, everyone in your department looked to you for guidance. But to be honest, your boss never actually kept up with the weekly reports, and it was your job to gather the data every quarter so that your team didn’t get into trouble. So, to prevent this, you had a little meeting with your team, a system was developed to where everyone kept track, and at the end of the week, it would be entered. This made the job a little easier, but there was still a lot to enter. Not to mention your boyfriend had come into town, and you felt awful for not meeting him at that airport to greet him. The entire day you would stare at your phone at the encouraging texts, with smiley face emojis, xoxoxxx messages, and a adorable gif he made, of him blowing you a kiss. Your phone buzzes, and you part your hands, to see another message from him.  RICHARD: {You can do this sweetheart. Just think of me, at home waiting for you. XXX  (Smiley face ) } So you pick up your phone and reply… YOU: {That is the only thing keeping me going. If I quit my job, would you hold that against me?} SEND RICHARD: {Go ahead if you are truly unhappy there. I know that you are a very independent woman, but I can’t help but to admit that I would love nothing more than to take care of you.} You smile at his message, and start to type a reply, but then another message from him pops up. RICHARD: {Also, the only thing I would hold against you is….me. And seeing that I haven’t touched you in months, I can’t wait for you to come home. (Winkey face & heart emoji) You immediately blush, and erase the text you were typing, to reply back to him. YOU: {Omg, please don’t say that. Not while I am here, I just might say fuck these reports, and jump in an Uber and come home.} SEND RICHARD: {Please do, so that I can…fuck you.}

You let out a soft scream, and giggle to yourself. It’s almost been a year since you’ve been a couple and dating an actor wasn’t easy. He was away for weeks at a time, and with other beautiful woman, who made you look like trash, but he always found a way to let you know that you were the most beautiful woman to him. He called you every morning, to leave a sweet message for you when you woke, and he would wake up in the middle of the night to just talk to you when he knew it was day time for you in the States. Your birthday had recently passed, and he was upset that he couldn’t make it. Fearful really. A side of him you never saw. He called you, in a panic state, apologizing that he couldn’t leave, or arrange for you to come to him, due to his schedule in Berlin. He begged you to forgive him, and to not give up on him or the relationship. Due to his job, he was always so careful with relationships. He tended to take it easy, and not get too serious. He learned that when he was serious about a woman, they would move in together, she would get tired of him being away, and she would leave him. So, missing your birthday was the moment he thought he would lose you. So to prevent that, you were sent flowers in the morning before you left for work, a personal chef to cook you breakfast, lunch and dinner, a personal shopper, with Richards credit card to treat yourself to whatever you wants, PLUS when you were at work, your entire office was covered in balloons, chocolates, flowers, and a GIANT, GIANT brown teddy bear that took two of your male co-workers to get down into the Uber when you left for home. Then the poor driver had to get it out of the car. This time, he had come home from shooting Berlin Station, and he didn’t waste time getting on a plane. He scheduled it ahead of time, and said nothing, and no one was going to stop him from seeing you again. He told his assistant not to bother him unless it was a 911 situation. He wanted nothing to distract him from you, and he meant it. Richard could show such devotion and attention to you it was scary. 4 hours later, your reports were done, turned in, and everyone was saying goodbye in the parking lot. They wanted to go out and go to one of the 24 hr bars, but you wanted to go home. So you did, and wished them a goodnight. 20 minutes later, you get to your apartment block, grab the keys out of your bag and climb the stairs by two. You walk into the apartment and directly make a beeline to the bathroom to freshen up. As you push open the bedroom door, you see Richard a sleep on top of the covers. Legs crossed at the ankles, one arm over his stomach the other behind his head, and he was still sitting up against the headboard, with pillows behind his back. Your shared golden retriever Loki was lying near him, and was too sleepy to fully greet you, but his tail swayed and tapped on the bed. The glow of the low volume TV filled the room. You place your bag down, and go into the bathroom, and close the door.    The water splashed over your skin as it clings and crawls down. Slowly, it carries away the evidence of today's hard work, leaving you raw and exposed for the night to come. You battle up with the fresh sent of honey and pomegranate. The body wash felt cold but refreshing against your skin, the strong sent consumed your sense. The heat of the water was pleasant, and you knew that you could stay in here all night, but you couldn’t. You would much rather your bed, and your man. Once washed, you step out of the shower and dry your body off. You walked towards your open bedroom and when you poked your head out, you still see that Richard is asleep. You didn’t want to wake him, and it wasn’t fair to when he traveled so far. You would have tomorrow, and tonight you would let him rest. So, you step out, and make your way to the dresser, and you allow the towel to drop on the floor. The cold air of the room chills your skin, but you love the sensation. The air allowed your body wash to flow around you, and the scent of honey and pomegranate hits you. So, you smell your wrist and indulge yourself for a moment. God you loved that body wash. So did Richard. It was his favorite. You never heard the bed, nor the feet on the ground, but you immediately felt the hold of hands on your waist. A hard body pressed against your back, and a fully hard groan pressed against your ass. Richard had gotten up and started kissing your neck, as he moved your wet hair over to one shoulder. His hands exploring the curves of your newly washed flesh. His right hand slipped up the curve of your waist, over your toned stomach, and up to your breast. He took one fully and squeezed. You felt his lips at your ear. “I missed you sweetheart.” He said. He was always so loving and gentle with you. He may seem sweet in front of others, and the camera, and he really was. But when he was alone with you, his dominate, side always showed. He was protective, assertive, and god was he an animal in bed. Naughty and sweet. Just how you like it. “I missed you too baby.” You said with a sigh, leaning back into his arms, enjoying the caress of his hands on your body. You slowly turn to face him, your head fully tilted up to meet his gaze. The blue eyes of a sex god stared back at you. His pink lips were welcoming and exciting. You both fall silent. The clock ticks and hearts beat in double time. The heat of his breath and skin against your s contrasts against the cold of the bedroom. You’re not sure exactly when it happened, or how but there wasn’t a gap between your bodies anymore. You weren’t sure of who started it. You weren’t sure where you were or what day it was. Were you still awake or dreaming, but all you knew and cared about was that you were kissing Richard Armitage. Feeling pure ecstasy under his lips, his hands, his voice, his scent, his body. He kissed your neck and your eyes flutter shut. Your breathing hitches in your throat. He stares at you as he leans in. Your mind is saying to stop but your body isn't responding nor is your mouth moving. You were tired but you wanted him badly. His lips slightly brush yours. You couldn’t take it anymore and you crash your lips onto his. He moans just like you do. Pleasure is taking over your body. He pushes you up under your thighs so your legs are wrapped around his waist. He turns and carries you to the bed. Loki jumped down know what was about to happen. You feel him grind his hips into you and a surprising growl leaves his mouth. He breaks the kiss and pulls back looking at you. Taking in the sight before him, his eyes travel up and down your naked body, then he makes eye contact again. “As much as I would love to take advantage of you in the state. I am afraid I cannot do so when you are this tired.” He voices his concern. He leans in atop you, his hands caressing your cheeks. He kisses on and then the other. “But what if I told you I wanted to?” You ask, Turing your head to allow him the chance to kiss you. You missed his touches, and kisses. The weight of his body against yours was heaven. He didn’t want it to stop. You didn’t want him to stop what he was doing. On the other hand, you were exhausted. A 18 hour work shift wasn’t your favorite, and you knew that if you started, you wouldn’t have been able to concentrate for long. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me right now?” Richard said dryly, almost a growl as his eyes moved up and down your naked frame.  “hmmm...” You moan as your hand moved to the waist band of his pants, and sliding under them you took hold of his full erection in your hand. He gasped, in response, and slowly started to move in your hand. He moaned loudly, and closed his eyes, lost in the moment.  He then caught himself, and pulled back, and your hand released him. He took a deep breath and let out a puff of air.  “I want to as well, but I would much rather you get your rest.” He finally managed to say as he cleared his throat.  “Really?” “Yes, especially for what I have planned for you in the morning, later that day and at night. You will not be leaving this bed.” He said with a devilish smirk. Fuck. You knew you were in trouble. The last time Richard was gone for this long, you were sore for days, and every time you looked at him, you blushed hard. You would never look at your ottoman the same, and now whenever you eat strawberries you get horny. Richard new how to touch and fuck you in such a way that it was sinful. His intentions might be pure, and he might really just want to cuddle, but he wouldn’t mind if this escalated. It might even just be that he really just wanted to cuddle, but then being so close to you got him all riled up. Unless you’re cuddling post-sex, odds are he wouldn’t mind you putting the moves on him. But you knew that he would not do anything while you were this tired. He was always concerned about your rest, and he knew this day was hard for you. So, you both crawled to the top of the bed, Richard removed his clothes, and Loki jumped back on the bed join you. You nestled into Richards arms, and he kissed you goodnight. You watched TV until you didn’t realize that you fell asleep. Richard whispered he loved you into your ears, and pulled you so close to his body, and rested his head on yours. You both fell into a blissful sleep. END

[defavouredkings]

Shades Of Deceit Episode 4

Shades Of Deceit Episode 4 SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 13th, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 2:50AM The song filtered into her head as she drifted between sleep and reality. She had dozed off while listening to a program on radio with her phone on the bed. She knew the song. My skin is like a map Of where my heart has been And I can’t hide the marks It’s not a negative thing… Laide winced in pain as she felt her swollen lips with her tongue. Her hurt was not from her swollen lips, it was from a broken heart. I bruise easily So be gentle when you handle me There’s a mark you leave Like a love heart carved on a tree… The tears rolled down her cheeks as Natasha Bedingfield’s velvety voice seeped out from the phone’s speakers. In a former life, before she became a Pastor’s wife, this was one of her favourite songs, but never had she connected with the lyrics of the song the way she presently connected with it. She sniffled as she wrapped her arms around her son, not like one seeking to protect her child but as one seeking protection from her child. His room had been her refuge for the past two nights as she had refused all entreaty from her husband to return to their shared bedroom. She would however have to return to their bedroom when it was daybreak as her sister Yewande was arriving from Lagos for a short stay. She couldn’t let anybody, not even Yewande, know that Pastor and Mrs Igbinedion were not living as a happily married christian couple, let alone as the respected christian leaders that they were supposed to be. They had a reputation and she had to play her part to protect that reputation. Who would believe that Mrs Laide Igbinedion, wife of the charismatic and heavily anointed pastor of a ten thousand member congregational church had sad nights like these? Who would believe that she was a victim of abuse in a marriage that was globally acclaimed as a model for what a good and happy marriage should look like? Michael had hit her once while they were courting and she remembered how he had begged and grovelled for months before she eventually forgave him. That was six months before he proposed. He would eventually start his assault on her four years after they were married, when Jeremiah was just two years old. She remembered vividly that the argument was about his seeming closeness to Ivie whom he had elevated from being just a leader of one of the home fellowship units in the church to being his personal assistant. She had explained away his closeness to Ivie to the fact that they both hailed from the same tribe, but having her as a personal assistant was way more than she could logically explain. In the first place, why did he need a personal assistant, and a female one at that? ‘These days, with the amount of speaking invitations that I get, if I don’t get an assistant, I might end up having to sleep in church,’ Michael explained. ‘I need time with you and my growing son. I don’t want to be an absent dad,’ he said, planting a kiss on her lips. As usual, she was bought. Ivie was eventually employed and Michael continued to sleep in church, closing just as late as he used to. ‘You’re not stupid enough to infer that I’m going out with my P.A, are you?’ Michael asked, his face contorted in anger as he responded to his wife’s questions. ‘You are not stupid enough to go out with her, are you?’ She asked, throwing the question back at him. ‘Is that question for me?’ He lashed out with a slap right across her right cheek. The sound was like a thunder clap. Shock was riddled on her face for the first thirty seconds and as the tears rolled down her eyes, all she could say was, ‘Michael, you slapped me because of Ivie?’ ‘I slapped you because you insulted me,’ he replied, walking out on her. It was also the first time they had slept in separate rooms. She missed church the next day being a Sunday as her eyes were swollen and reddened by the slap. It was the last time, Michael hit her on her face and on a Saturday. His assaults had since become more planned and strategic as the three other times he had hit her was either on a Thursday or a Friday and he had lashed her with his belt and on her buttocks, after over-powering her on the bed and muffling her cries with a pillow -like she was an errant child. He had not followed this rule two days ago when he slapped her on her face. It was reminiscent of the first time he hit her since they became husband and wife. ‘Please, no one must know of this,’ Michael pleaded as she looked at him with disdain. ‘I thought you said you both had nothing between yourselves?’ she asked, waving the phone at him. ‘This is nothing right?’ Her eyes glancing at the nude pictures of Ivie plastered on the screen of the phone. Michael was quiet. ‘You will sack her immediately,’ she said, her voice fierce and authoritative. ‘And if you must have a personal assistant, then I will choose that person,’ she continued, her mind already set on Nike whom she trusted and was like a younger sister to her. Marriage was not supposed to be perfect and hers was not. The only difference with her marriage was that everyone seemed to believe that she and Michael were living a fairy-tale. He was the poster boy for a good man and her, for a virtuous woman. They were a perfect marriage. If only they knew. If only they knew. She muttered into the dark cold night. *** *** *** Maitama, Abuja. 8:50AM Chika Ezenwa stared at the suspended ceiling boards in his room, his eyes seeing nothing, as his mind x-rayed his life in the past five months. It was a sad life. Where there used to be patters of the tiny feet of his son Josh, there was quiet. And where there used to be the body of his wife lying next to him as a human heater, there was emptiness and cold. He missed his family, but most especially, he missed his son. But how do you forgive a woman, whose sex tape is right now on the internet? It was a question he had been unsuccessfully trying to find an answer to and no matter how hard he tried to push the images to the recesses of his mind, the pictures from the tape remained crisp and clear. They haunted him. He loved Amaka with his life but now he was not so sure. What he was however sure of was that, his heart was not hating her as much as he would like. It was looking for excuses to forgive her. How do you hate the mother of your only child? The mother of Josh. He exhaled loudly as the handsome face of his son formed in his mind and his tiny voice rang out in his ears. Daadi. What if she was right that the video was done way before they met? There was nothing to prove it, but what if she was right? Was it not enough to take her back for? ‘Too many questions,’ Chika muttered as he closed his face with a pillow, ‘Too many questions,’ he repeated. He missed his family and he wanted them back. *** *** *** Gwarimpa, Abuja. 3:03PM Michael watched the couple as they argued between themselves. ‘Pastor, this is exactly what I’m facing,’ the husband said exasperated. ‘I don’t know if she is the husband, or I am the husband. She doesn’t even let me drink water and put the cup down. If I talk one word, she will talk twenty, if she could, she would wear the trousers in the house,’ the man said, his eyes showing his frustration. The woman sat still, hands folded across her belly, her gaze fixed on her husband. Michael smiled. ‘She’s a woman Mr Nweke, talk is what she knows how to do best.’ The wife grunted in acknowledgement, a quiet way of saying, tell him. Michael smiled, ignoring her very quiet interruption. ‘The bible urges you to love your wife and one of the ways of showing love is to love and eat her food, no matter how angry you are. She has spent time in cooking, you should eat.’ The wife’s eyes glowed as the pastor spoke, visibly pleased with the path the discussion was towing. ‘And madam, you know you have to submit to your husband?’ ‘Yes Pastor,’ the woman replied, her face slightly bowed. ‘It’s easy to draw out his love in that manner, the bible recommends it,’ Michael stated. His eyes settled on the clock in his office. It was reading, 3:12. He was running late as he had planned to leave the office by three ‘o’ clock to get some gifts for his wife. His mind ran on the kind of gifts he could get to break the ice that was currently in his home. Romantic apology card? Check. 10 sweet cherries & 12 swizzled strawberry chocolates? Check. 3 dozen long stemmed red roses? Check. Diamonds? Check. Sweet session of lovemaking? Check.Check.Check… ALSO READ: Shades Of Deceit Episode 1 Pastor Michael Igbinedion smiled to himself, nodding his head as Mr Nweke’s mouth opened and closed. He wasn’t hearing one word, but that was no problem, there was always a bible verse to fill up that space. He had to close up the session as soon as possible so he could go and prepare for the very long night that was surely ahead in the home of the Igbinedions. Read the full article

[talikhar]

I AM WIDE AWAKE

WOKE AF- The mind opening inner ponderings, visions and realizations of a brain both blessed and cursed with second sight.

WRITTEN THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2017!  

FRIENDS I RESPECT THE FACT YOU ARE  ENTITLED TO YOUR VIEWS, YOUR FREEDOM OF SPEECH AND HOW YOU CHOOSE TO LIVE YOUR LIFE.  BUT I’VE SEEN LURKING OF EVIL SO SUBTLE, MOVING SO SWIFTLY, ENGULFING THE WORLD COMPLETELY AND CORRODING THE SOULS OF SO MANY.  IT WOULD BE CONSIDERED SINFUL TO TELL A PERSON DIRECTLY WHAT THEIR FUTURE IS,  HOWEVER WE HAVE THE POWER AND CAPACITY TO CHANGE THE CIRCUMSTANCES AND MOLD OUR LIVES DIFFERENTLY.  SO HOPING TO SPREAD SOME WISDOM,  SPEAKING  ALLEGORICALLY AND SHARING MY PERCEPTIONS AND CONCERNS IN A BOTH DEEPLY PHILOSOPHICAL  AND LIGHT HEARTENING HUMOROUS FASHION, HERE IT GOES...   OH, AND DISCLAIMER...  I AM NOT A WITCH!! THE FLAG/ ANTHEM ISSUE IS DRIVING ME NUTS!  WHY?

BECAUSE RIGHT NOW THERE IS MILLIONS OF PEOPLE SUFFERING AND DYING HORRIBLE DEATHS DUE TO NATURAL DISASTERS IN APOCALYPTIC SCALES, WE HAVE PLAGUES LIKE THE ZIKA VIRUS, VOLCANO ERUPTIONS, FIRES, DROUGHTS, HURRICANES, EARTHQUAKES AND TSUNAMIS, ANTIBIOTIC RESISTANT MUTATING VIRUSES PLUS THAT LOOMING GIANT ASTEROID AND PEOPLE ARE GOING INSANE OVER A FLAG AND A SONG.  ONE IS AN INANIMATE OBJECT AND THE OTHER AND ABSTRACT IDEOLOGY THE OTHER HUMAN LIVES!!!!!!   LATER ON ANOTHER OCCASION WE'LL TALK ON THE THEORY OF HOW THE MAYAN CALENDAR WAS NOT ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD BUT THE TIPPING POINT WHERE IT WAS UP TO THIS GENERATION TO DETERMINE IF THERE IS GOING TO BE A FUTURE... THE BEGINNING OF A POTENTIAL END.

SO, MY TWO CENTS IS...(AND SINCE I'M SO BROKE I’M ALMOST DESTITUTE , I MOST DEFINITIVELY  GONNA NEED THOSE PENNIES BACK,TOO!) PEOPLE NEED TO GET WOKE AF BEFORE WE WIPE YOURSELF FROM THIS PLANET.  I KNOW YOU FEEL IT, TOO; THAT VORTEX OF DESPAIR IS SUCKING ALL OF US IN, SPINNING FASTER AND FASTER. 

       2.  THAT IF YOU WANT TO POST THAT THE NFL PROTEST IS DISRESPECTFUL AND YOU FEEL SO OFFENDED BY THESE BLACK MEN, TO THE POINT YOU WILL STOP GOING TO FOOTBALL GAMES... GO ON AND YOU DO YOU BU!    JUST PLEASE REMEMBER THAT THE FOUNDING FATHERS DID NOT SAY ANYWHERE THAT YOU CAN'T KNEEL AND FOOTBALL GAMES DID NOT EVEN EXIST BACK THEN!! BUT THEY DID SAY THE FLAG HAS TO BE PRESENTED AND DISPOSED IN VERY SPECIFIC WAY I BET NONE OF YOU FOLLOW.  THEY WERE TOTALLY ANAL ABOUT IT, BY THE WAY.   SO, NEXT FOURTH OF JULY MAKE SURE YOU RANT AND RAVE, POST ABOUT AND FEEL UTTERLY OFFENDED TO YOUR CORE ABOUT THE SALE AND MISUSE OF THE FLAG FOR PROFIT AND  BOYCOTT EVERY STORE THAT HAS PAPER PLATES AND NAPKINS WITH NOT ONLY THE FLAG BUT A REPRESENTATION OF THE FLAG SUCH AS COLORS, STARS AND STRIPES, EVEN IF IT IS A PARTIAL ONE!!!  HOW DARE YOU THROW THEM RED, WHITE AND BLUE SOLO CUPS REEKING OF STALE BEER IN THE GARBAGE RECEPTACLE AFTERWARDS TOO... SHAME ON YOU!   TSK, TSK,TSK  (LOL)  AND THOSE FIRE CRACKERS YOU SEEM TO LOVE SETTING ON FIRE AND EXPLODING ALL WEEK LONG UNTIL UNGODLY HOURS EVEN WHEN MANY FREAKED OUT DOGS, VETERANS WITH PTSD AND PEOPLE TRYING TO SLEEP ARE SUFFERING?  NEWSFLASH PATRIOT: YOU MIGHT HAVE BEEN BURNING HUNDREDS OF LITTLE USA FLAGS YOURSELF FOR YEARS!!  THAT GOES ALSO  FOR YOUR BEER CANS, BANDANNAS, THONG BIKINIS AND BOXERS (THE HUMANITY!), PAJAMAS, COUNTRY MUSIC T-SHIRTS, CAR STICKERS, BABY DIAPERS, EVEN YOUR DEBIT AND CREDIT CARDS.   DEAR JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH, THE OUTRAGE... WHAT BLASPHEMY IS THIS?!!  (JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED IT, THE LATTER INTERJECTION IS PURE, UNFILTERED SARCASM).  NOWADAYS I AM DOING THE FACE-PALM AND SHAKING MY HEAD IN DISBELIEF SO HARD AND SO OFTEN MY COGNIZANT, VERBAL  AND MOTOR SKILLS ARE STARTING TO GET AFFECTED.  OKAY?  

     3. I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THE REASON THE ANTHEM WAS CREATED, THE INSPIRATION FOR IT AND STAY OPEN MINDED TO BECOME WISER AND RELEARN OUR HISTORY AS IT HAPPENED, NOT LIKE WHAT WAS CONVENIENTLY LEFT OUT IN OUR SCHOOL BOOKS.  TRY AND DO THIS FOR THE BETTERMENT OF YOU AND FUTURE GENERATIONS, IF WE SURVIVE THE PATH THESE BIG HEADED LOONIES RUNNING NORTH KOREA, AMERICA, RUSSIA AND SAUDI ARABIA, VENEZUELA, AND THE REST ARE LEADING US UP  TO.  THE VERSE WE SING IS BEAUTIFUL, PROUD AND  STRONG BUT THE INSPIRATION FOR IT AND THE STORY BEHIND IT IS HORRIFIC AND SHAMEFUL... THE COMPOSER WAS TAKING GREAT SATISFACTION IN THE DEATHS OF SLAVES THAT HAD FREED THEMSELVES.   IT WAS ABOUT A LAND OF THE FREE, BUT THE FREEDOM WAS FOR THE IMMIGRANT WHITE MEN AND THEIR OFFSPRING ONLY, NOT FOR THE NATIVE AMERICAN WHO IS THE AUTHENTIC ORIGINAL AMERICAN.  THE ONES THAT  WANTED TO HELP THE WHITE MEN SURVIVE IN THEIR NEW WORLD AND SHARE ALL THEY HAD AND IN RETURN WENT THROUGH GENOCIDE AND BECAME VICTIMS OF COUNTLESS HORRORS.  THIS FREEDOM WAS ALSO NOT FOR THE AFRICAN SLAVES THAT WERE BROUGHT HERE AGAINST THEIR WILL OR THEIR DESCENDANTS WHO WERE ALSO TERRORIZED, TORTURED, RAPED AND MURDERED.   AND GENERATION AFTER GENERATION BLACK MEN AND WOMEN HAVE CONTINUED TO SUFFER COUNTLESS ABUSES AND DISCRIMINATION AND DESPICABLE ACTS OF VIOLENCE SO ATROCIOUS, IT EASILY COULD   HAVE LEFT MARKS EMBEDDED DEEPLY IN THE SUBCONSCIOUS LEVEL AND GENETICAL STRANDS .  MANY OTHERS HAVE COME FROM COUNTRIES ALL OVER THE WORLD AND EACH GROUP HAVE BROUGHT THEIR OWN COLOR AND TEXTURE TO THE FABRIC THAT HAS MADE THIS COUNTRY UNIQUE AND SPECIAL.  PUERTO RICANS THAT CAME TO USA AND WORKED IN EVERYTHING AND IN BETWEEN:  FIRST AGRICULTURE, THEN AS SOME BARRIERS WERE BROKEN AND WERE ABLE TO MAKE A LIVING AS POLICEMEN, TEACHERS, TAXI DRIVERS, NASA ENGINEERS.  THE ASIAN ALSO BROUGHT COUNTLESS CONTRIBUTIONS, WORKED IN THE FIELD BUILDING TRAIN TRACKS AND THEN EVERYTHING FROM FOOD SERVICE, LAUNDROMATS THEN TECHNOLOGY, MATH AND SCIENCE AS DID THE IRISH, WHO ALSO HAD SUFFERED A PERIOD OF SLAVERY AND DISCRIMINATION, THE JEWISH COMMUNITY THAT CONTINUES TO BE ATTACKED AS THE REASON FOR EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG IN THE COUNTRY (WTF?!!).  AND I MEAN THE JEWISH RELIGION, NOT THE FAR-RIGHT ISRAELI LEADERSHIP COMMITTING THE GENOCIDE OF PALESTINIANS.  THE ITALIANS THAT ALSO HAVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL CULTURE AND WAS DISCRIMINATED AGAINST AND GENERALIZED AS MAFIOSO'S OR DUMB, LAZY,  I COULD GO ON AND ON, THE GREEK, THE HINDU, THE GERMANS.  WE ALL EXPERIENCED A LOT OF THE SAME TRIBULATIONS, BUT NONE AS SEVERE, CONSTANT AND PALPABLE AS THE AFRICAN AMERICAN.  PUERTO RICO WAS SOLD TO USA AND THERE WAS A LOT OF PEOPLE IN THE ISLAND THAT RIGHTFULLY PROTESTED BEING FORCED TO CHANGE THEIR WAY OF LIFE...THEY WERE LYNCHED. THEN VIEQUES WAS USED AS A MILITARY TEST SITE LEAVING BEHIND POLLUTION AND SICKNESS,  AND PUERTO RICAN WOMEN WERE USED AS GUINEA PIGS TO TEST BIRTH CONTROL PILLS.   MEXICO? THE SAME, TOOK THEIR LAND GUNS BLAZING AND NOW PEOPLE DARE TELL THEM TO GO HOME WHEN THEY WERE HERE FIRST.  HAWAII, ALSO THE SAME.. GOBBLED UP AND MADE INTO A CARICATURE AND THEIR LANDS PASSED ON GENERATION AFTER GENERATION  STOLEN AND SOLD.  WE ALL LEARNED TO ADAPT AND EMBRACE MOST OF THE CHANGES AND  WE CAN FORGIVE BUT CAN'T FORGET.   WE LOVE THIS COUNTRY DESPITE OF IT ALL, BUT WE ARE STILL WAYS TO GO TO BE RECIPROCATED IN THE SAME MANNER WHICH IS I THINK SO SIMPLE AND GOLLY, GEE... IT’S FREE: RESPECT US, OUR CULTURE, RELIGIONS AND LANGUAGE, AND LET US REALLY BE A PART OF THIS COUNTRY BY LETTING OUR VOICES BE HEARD... AND REALLY LISTEN.    JUST DON'T MAKE UNGODLY THINGS LIKE A SONG AND A FLAG INTO FALSE IDOLS AND LOOK INTO UNITING AND ACCEPTING EACH OTHER AS EQUALS.   CARE ABOUT THE REAL INJUSTICES  PEOPLE ARE LIVING STILL ON THIS DAY AN AGE, TRY TO WALK A MILE IN THEIR SHOES.   UNDERSTAND THAT THE NEGATIVE AND EVIL DONE IN THIS WORLD WAS MOSTLY DUE TO A MINORITY OF CHARACTERS THAT WERE ABLE TO SNEAK THEMSELVES IN TO THE LEADERSHIP POSITIONS.  THE MONEY TRULY HAS BEEN THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.  IT IS MONEY THAT HAS ALLOWED THESE PEOPLE TO BUY MINIONS TO DO THEIR BIDING, MONEY TO BUILD AND BUY THEIR MUSKETS, RIFLES, CANNONS AND ROCKETS AND THE MILITIA AND MERCENARIES TO DO THEIR BIDING AND DESTROY AND ANNIHILATE EVERYTHING AND ANYONE THAT GETS IN THEIR IN PATH FOR MORE MONEY AND POWER.  INSTILLING FEAR AND USING CUNNING CHARMS, TWISTED LOGIC AND MISINTERPRETATION OF HOLY SCRIPTURES FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS HAVE CONVINCED SO MANY  THAT EVERYTHING THEY DO WILL BENEFIT THEM AT SOME POINT AND THAT IT’S ALL FOR LOVE AND COUNTRY.  THAT IS WHY IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT PEOPLE RESIST, PROTEST, RAISE THEIR FIST, MAKE A STINK, STOMP YOUR FEET...HELL NO,  WE NEED TO BECOME WISER AND OPEN OUR EYES WIDER.  BECAUSE I AM TIRED OF HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF.  BECAUSE THEY HAVE ALL OF US LOOKING AROUND, SIDE TO SIDE, PLACING BLAME ON EACH OTHER  INSTEAD OF LOOKING UP AT THEM, UNITING AND  HOLD THEM ACCOUNTABLE.  I AM WOKE AS FUCK... I PRAY MORE PEOPLE REALIZE THIS AND BECOME PART OF A SOLUTION BEFORE WE ALL PERISH.  LET US NOT FALL PREY TO WHAT REALLY IS GOING ON...  AGAIN, OPEN YOUR EYES WIDE, LISTEN, REALLY LISTEN.  DON'T BE LAZY AND RESEARCH, RESEARCH, RESEARCH.  MAYBE THEN YOU'LL WILL JOIN US, THE ONES THAT ARE

#WOKEASFUCK

MY APOLOGIES FOR THE CRASSNESS OF THE  AFOREMENTIONED COLLOQUIALISM OR, URBAN LINGUISTICS, BUT IT MEANS REACHING A SUPERLATIVE SCALE OF AWARENESS IN THIS GENERATION, AND I PERSONALLY KIND OF DIG IT. BUT I DIGRESS...  THE BAD ONES ARE A MINORITY STILL, BUT THE EVIL IS SPREADING FASTER, AND AS WE ARE BECOMING A RETROGRADE SOCIETY IN MANY WAYS, EVEN WITH ALL THESE AMAZING TECHNOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGHS OF THIS CENTURY, THEY ARE PUTTING BLINDERS ON THE INNOCENT, ON THE IGNORANT AND CLOSE MINDED AND THEY ARE RECRUITING MINIONS THAT MORE THAN EVER  FOLLOW THEM NOT OUT OF FEAR OR BECAUSE OF POVERTY BUT BECAUSE OF GREED AND THE EVIL SATISFACTION THEY GET FROM CONTROLLING AND HURTING OTHERS AND HAVE CONVENIENTLY FOUND A SOULLESS LEADER AFTER THEIR OWN DARK HEARTS.   

SCHOOLS SHOULD HAVE HISTORY CLASSES THAT TEACH MORE IN A GLOBAL PERSPECTIVE, EMPHASIZING ON EVERYBODY'S STRUGGLES, CONTRIBUTIONS AND TRIUMPHS AND HOW MUCH WE ARE ALL THE SAME AND OWE SO MUCH TO EACH OTHER.  SADLY WE ARE BASICALLY IN A PLATEAU. STUCK,  AS IN MANY  WAYS BEING UNDER THE SAME SOCIETAL STANDARDS THAT WE WERE IN THOUSANDS YEARS AGO. THE KING, THE CLERGY AND THE NOBLES... AND WE THE THE PEOPLE? WERE ARE THE PEONS, PLEBEIANS, THEIR SLAVE LABOR, COURTESANS, PERFORMERS AND BUFFOONS.  ONLY DIFFERENCE IS IN MODERN TIMES? THE NOBLES, WHICH ARE THE 1% ELITE AND THE CORPORATIONS ARE MORE POWERFUL AND IN CHARGE OF THE FATE OF THE COUNTRY THAN THE KING HIMSELF.  A KING THAT IS BROUGHT TO POWER NOT BY RIGHT OF BIRTH BUT BY THE NOBLES'  MONETARY DONATIONS TO THEIR POLITICAL CAMPAIGNS AND PROMISE OF FUTURE COUNTLESS RICHES IF THEY  STAY IN LINE AND THEIR BIDDING. REPUBLICAN LEADERS HIGHLY COMPLIANT WITH THEIR PATHOLOGICAL ALIENATION FROM REALITY OUTSIDE OF THEIR GREED FOR MONEY, POWER AND CONTROL IS A VERY COMPLIANT PUPPET.  

THE REPUBLICAN ALWAYS THE MASTER THAT ONLY THROWS THE DOG THE BONE ONLY AFTER THEY SUCKED OUT EVERY BIT AND MORSEL DOWN TO THE MARROW.  THE DEMOCRAT POLITICIANS WERE MORE OF A OPEN INCLUSIVE IDEOLOGIST BUT LATELY FALLEN VICTIM TO THAT CORPORATE DONOR SEDUCTION OF GREED.  SADLY MANY PEONS RECENTLY FAILED TO REALIZE THAT STILL THIS WAS THE LESSER EVIL AS THIS MASTER MAY STILL LEAVE ONLY THE BONE BUT IT AT LEAST WILL HAVE THE CARTILAGE AND SOME MEAT ON IT AND UNLIKE THE REPUBLICAN MASTER, IF YOU STAR CHOKING THE BONE THEY WILL TAKE YOU TO THE VET.  REPUBLICAN MASTER THROWS YOU IN THE BAG BEFORE YOU TAKE YOUR LAST BREATH AND DRIVES BY A FAST FOOD RESTAURANT WERE HE DISPOSES OF THE BAG SO HE DOESN'T HAVE TO BOTHER WITH DIGGING A HOLE IN THE YARD AND RUIN THEIR MANICURED LAWN OR DEAL WITH THE STENCH OF YOUR ROTTING BODY.  THAT'S WHY MY INCLINATION IS LIBERAL PROGRESSIVE.  I REALIZE MANY THINK LIBERAL MASTER WILL JUST GO CRAZY THROWING THE WHOLE CHICKENS TO THE DOGS, TO THE POINT THEY RUN OUT OF CHICKENS, BUT I'M CONFIDENT THEY CAN FIND A WAY TO FIGURE IT OUT PLUS THEY WILL SET UP FOR YEARLY WELLNESS CHECK UP AT THE VETS, AND GET US TREATS LIKE A BETTER EDUCATION SYSTEM, FREE COLLEGE AND MORE.  LIBERAL /PROGRESSIVE /INDEPENDENT MASTER AFTER ALL BELIEVES IN SOMETHING CALLED SCIENCE AND COMPLETE AND FAIR EQUALITY AND THOSE TWO THING ARE ESSENTIAL TO BREAK THIS CORRUPTED MOLD.   THE CLERY? THAT IS ANOTHER ISSUE TO BE ADDRESSED SEPARATELY BECAUSE EVEN JESUS ADVOCATED FOR SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE, THEY WANTED IN  DIBS ON THE LOOT AND MAINTAINING THE POWER OVER THE PEOPLE., BECOMING AND UNHOLY TRIFECTA OF EVIL TYRANNY AND GREED.

IN CLOSING, SPECIALLY AFTER THAT EXTREMELY WEIRD AND RANDOM "THROW THE DOG A BONE' ANALOGY...DON'T LET THEM CONTINUE TO KEEP US BLINDED BY THE PROPAGANDIST MEDIA LIKE FOX NEWS, ALL THE BRAINWASHING POLITICIANS, THE ZOMBIE TRANCE INDUCING WORLDWIDE WEB AND ALL THE FALSEHOODS SURROUNDING US AS WE ARE PINNED AGAINST EACH OTHER  OVER OUR DIFFERENCES OF CULTURE, RELIGION, SEXUAL ORIENTATION AND RACE.  THEY HAVE US RUNNING AROUND LIKE CHICKENS (GEE! AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING CHICKENS) WITH OUR HEADS CUT-OFF SO WE DON'T FIGURE IT OUT AND COME TO STORM THEIR CASTLES!

[deniscollins]

Roseanne Barr Incites Fury With Racist Tweet, and Her Show Is Canceled by ABC

Comedian Roseanne Bar’s TV show is the highest rated new TV show on ABC and brought in $45 million in advertising revenue. If you were an ABC executive, what would you do if Roseanne tweeted a cruel and racist comment about a political adverser, apologized for the joke being in bad taste which she had posted at 2 a.m., and noted she would no longer do Tweets: (1) Forgive her, (2) Discipline her, or (3) cancel her show, cancel reruns, and remove the show from your website? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Two months ago, Roseanne Barr was a star again.

Her sitcom “Roseanne” returned in March after a two-decade absence to enormous ratings on ABC. Network executives were celebrating their strategy of appealing to wider swaths of the country after Donald J. Trump’s surprising election win and the president himself called Ms. Barr to congratulate her on the show’s large audience.

But on Tuesday, that all came crashing down. ABC abruptly canceled “Roseanne” hours after Ms. Barr, the show’s star and co-creator, posted a racist tweet about Valerie Jarrett, an African-American woman who was a senior adviser to Barack Obama throughout his presidency and considered one of his most influential aides. Ms. Barr wrote if the “muslim brotherhood & planet of the apes had a baby=vj.”

Ms. Barr later apologized, but it was too late. In announcing the show’s cancellation, ABC’s entertainment president, Channing Dungey, said in a statement that “Roseanne’s Twitter statement is abhorrent, repugnant and inconsistent with our values.”

The show had ended its successful comeback season last week and was expected to return in September for a 13-episode run. Robert A. Iger, the chief executive of the Walt Disney Company, ABC’s corporate parent, shared Ms. Dungey’s statement on his own Twitter account, adding: “There was only one thing to do here, and that was the right thing.”

The sudden cancellation of a hit show — it had the highest ratings of a new TV series in years — because of offscreen controversy was almost without precedent.

The show brought in an estimated $45 million of advertising revenue for ABC this year, and the network likely would have collected more than $60 million next season, according to Kantar Media.

The move was decided by top Disney and ABC executives, including Ms. Dungey who was appointed to her  role in February 2016, becoming the first black entertainment president of a major broadcast television network. She had the backing of Ben Sherwood, the head of ABC’s television group, and Mr. Iger, who was involved in the process starting very early on Tuesday, according to two Disney insiders who spoke on the condition of anonymity to describe company matters.

On a phone call with ABC and her representatives shortly before the show was canceled, Ms. Barr expressed remorse for the tweet but did not seem to be fully aware of the potential implications for her sitcom, according to a person familiar with the phone call who spoke on condition of anonymity because it was private.

For Disney, there was more at stake than a hit show. The company has been widely praised in recent years as a leader in efforts to combat racial stereotypes through its movies and TV series, whether on “Doc McStuffins,” a Disney Channel cartoon about an African-American girl who wants to be a doctor; “How to Get Away With Murder,” a vehicle for Viola Davis that led her to become the first black woman to win a lead-actress Emmy; and “Black Panther,” which proved that movies rooted in black culture and with predominantly black casts could become global blockbusters.

If Disney did not act forcefully with regard to “Roseanne,” much of that work might have been rendered moot.

Ms. Jarrett, who appeared at an MSNBC town hall about racism in America on Tuesday, said of Ms. Barr’s tweet, “We have to turn it into a teaching moment.”

“Bob Iger, who’s the C.E.O. of Disney, called me before the announcement,” she added. “He apologized. He said that he had zero tolerance for that sort of racist, bigoted comment, and he wanted me to know before he made it public that he was canceling the show.”

It did not take long for ABC to move on. A repeat episode scheduled for Tuesday night was promptly replaced with a rerun of “The Middle.” The network also began the process of taking each episode of “Roseanne” off its website, and Hulu, which is partly owned by Disney, is also removing episodes from its service.

The timing of Ms. Barr’s outburst was terrible for ABC. She wrote the message just two weeks after the network made its pitch to advertisers about its coming fall lineup, with the hope of attracting up to $9 billion in advertising commitments by summer’s end.

“Roseanne,” and its enormous audience and broad appeal, was the centerpiece of ABC’s presentation. Ms. Barr was introduced to the stage at Lincoln Center’s David Geffen Hall before any other ABC executive or star. Once there, she joked that her tweets were actually written by Mr. Sherwood.

Then came Ms. Barr’s tweet about Ms. Jarrett. She made it in response to a tweet suggesting that Ms. Jarrett may have had a role in helping Mr. Obama in a scheme Mr. Trump has branded “Spygate,” a debunked conspiracy theory involving an informant being planted in his campaign that the president has promoted in recent weeks.

Ms. Barr initially dismissed accusations that the comment was racist, defending it as "a joke.”

Earlier, Ms. Barr had an exchange with Chelsea Clinton after Ms. Barr erroneously referred to Ms. Clinton as “Chelsea Soros Clinton,” a reference to George Soros, the billionaire liberal donor who is often the focus of conservative critics. Donald Trump Jr. shared one of Ms. Barr’s posts in the exchange.

She later deleted the post about Ms. Jarrett. About a half-hour later, she offered an apology.

“I apologize to Valerie Jarrett and to all Americans,” she wrote. “I am truly sorry for making a bad joke about her politics and her looks. I should have known better. Forgive me - my joke was in bad taste.”

Ms. Barr also said she was “leaving Twitter” — but hours later, she was back, retweeting statements of support and links to conservative websites.

“It was 2 in the morning and I was ambien tweeting,” Ms. Barr later wrote, referring to a sleep aid that can cause changes in mood and behavior, “It was memorial day too-i went 2 far & do not want it defended-it was egregious Indefensible. I made a mistake I wish I hadn’t but...don’t defend it please.”

Ms. Barr was already being disavowed by longtime colleagues and formerly supportive voices.

Shortly before the cancellation, Wanda Sykes, a consulting producer for the show, quit. Sara Gilbert, a co-star who played Roseanne’s daughter and was a driving force behind the series revival, said she was “disappointed in her actions to say the least.”

The agency ICM dropped Ms. Barr as a client, saying it was “distressed by the disgraceful and unacceptable tweet.”

Even Bill O’Reilly, the former Fox anchor who has been supportive of the show, called her tweet “vicious” and said the series “could not continue with the show without insulting millions of Americans.”

Asked on Air Force One if Mr. Trump had any reaction to the show’s cancellation, the White House press secretary, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, demurred. “I think we have a lot bigger things going on in the country right now,” she said.

Canceling the series that quickly was a highly unusual step for a network. When series like “Two and a Half Men,” “House of Cards” or “Transparent” were at the center of storms surrounding their biggest stars, the casts were reworked but remained on the air. But none of the stars involved in those shows were as central to their identity as Ms. Barr was to “Roseanne.”

Months before her show’s return, Ms. Barr said that her children had taken her social media accounts away from her.

But as viewers flocked to “Roseanne,” Ms. Barr returned to Twitter. One of Ms. Barr’s messages accused a survivor of the high school shooting in Parkland, Fla., of giving a Nazi salute; another involved a conspiracy theory about Mr. Trump quietly breaking up a child sex trafficking ring including prominent Democrats.

“You can’t control Roseanne Barr,” Mr. Sherwood said in an interview with The New York Times in March, when asked about her Twitter account. “Many who have tried have failed.”

But there were other sources of controversy.

The revival’s third episode featured a joke about two ABC comedies with diverse casts, “black-ish” and “Fresh Off the Boat.” Ms. Barr’s character and her husband, Dan, played by John Goodman, wake up on the their living room couch, having fallen asleep in front of the television. “We missed all the shows about black and Asian families,” Dan Conner said. To laughter from the show’s studio audience, Roseanne Conner responded, “They’re just like us. There, now you’re all caught up.”

The joke prompted an outcry but ABC defended the show. “It certainly wasn’t meant to offend,” Ms. Dungey said this month. “I do stand by the ‘Roseanne’ writers.”

Even as “Roseanne” experienced success, ABC’s relationship with the “black-ish” showrunner, Kenya Barris, deteriorated, in part because of a decision to pull an episode of the show not long before it was set to air. Mr. Barris is in negotiations to leave his ABC contract and begin working with Netflix.

“Roseanne” will probably finish the 2017-18 television season as the No. 3 rated show, behind two NBC programs: “Sunday Night Football” and “This is Us.” More than 18 million people on average have watched “Roseanne” this season, according to Nielsen’s delayed viewing data.

Tuesday was the first day that “Roseanne” producers and writers convened on the show’s lot in Studio City, Calif., to begin work on the next season. According to Bruce Rasmussen, an executive producer, they were aware of Ms. Barr’s tweet when they arrived and “were horrified.” But they thought it could take a few days for the repercussions to be decided. Instead, within just a few minutes of getting to work, the group of a little more than a dozen people found out the show had been canceled as the news circulated online.

“We were gut-punched,” Mr. Rasmussen said. “It was really depressing that that one stupid sentence that she sent out destroyed a whole bunch of peoples’ jobs.”

[revmattnyc]

Semper Reformanda

One of my favorite places in the world is St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue in New York. This can hardly be unique to me as I am sure St. Pat’s is a favorite to many people in this world, but especially those fellow Christians who walk this pilgrim road. The day after my wife and I got engaged we made a quick pilgrimage uptown from Chinatown (where I was serving as pastor) and lit a candle at one of the side altars, the holy face of Jesus. Every time we bring friends and family to the cathedral we are sure to bring them to that altar.

Cards on the table here, I have a deep and abiding love for the Roman Catholic Church. This admission would no doubt bring about groans from within my own Lutheran communion as well as from the Roman communion. How can I have a deep and abiding love for a communion that anathematized Luther and the early reformers? How can I remain separated from a communion for which I have a deep and abiding love? 

My immediate family of my parents and brothers are the only Lutherans in my rather large family. The extended group are all Roman Catholics, those that still remain in the faith anyway. Much of my early formation in Christian worship included the liturgy of the Mass. It may not have been the Latin Mass of old, but it was deeply and profoundly Roman. The Lutheran parish of my youth drank deeply from the well of Vatican II in its use of the Lutheran Book of Worship. This admission would no doubt again elicit groans from both sides, but nevertheless the reality that this worship was Catholic and Lutheran cannot be denied. 

Given what I call a deep and abiding love for the Roman Catholic Church, why would I remain a Lutheran? All jokes aside about pensions I take this question very seriously. Stanley Hauerwas recently wrote that the Reformation is over in the Washington Post, so why do Protestants remain? Hauerwas answers that, among other reasons, he remains on the outside to keep the Roman Catholic Church honest. In other words, he remains in his position as a Protestant to keep the Church honest. I think the good professor is onto something, but I do not think he went far enough in the op-ed. Please allow my hubris to take over while also forgiving me for thinking I can supplement Professor Hauerwas’ answer.

Martin Luther is reported to have said that the article on justification by faith alone (being made right with God through grace alone on account of Christ alone) is “the article upon which the church stands or falls.” While Lutherans are not particularly bound by Luther’s statements we are bound by statements that appear in the documents in the Book of Concord. The Formula of Concord says, riffing on the Apology of the Augsburg Confession, “This article concerning justification by faith is the chief article in the entire Christian doctrine.” Justification is, in fact, the article upon which the church stands or falls. This claim is still a sticking point even though the centuries have helped Lutherans and Roman Catholics overcome many incredible obstacles.

It’s a sticking point because for Lutherans it is the starting point for all other articles of faith, including ecclesiology. This would not be true for Roman Catholicism. And that’s okay! It’s good to know where we stand on these issues. But this is why I want to draw out and expand upon Professor Hauerwas’ op-ed. If we are to proclaim the cry, “Semper Reformanda!” (or it’s longer version: “Ecclesia semper reformanda est,” “the church must always be reformed”), then we need to consider what that means in light of these starting points. For Rome “semper reformanda” must always be from above (hence Vatican II and current reforms being advanced by Pope Francis). For Lutherans “semper reformanda” must always be from below, that is, from the gospel.

One of the things I love about Rome is her episcopal succession and her church hierarchy with her magisterium and the like. Lutherans simply do not have that and, to be honest, we have always struggled with what it means to be church in no small part due to this lack. What we do have is the gospel front and center. If Lutherans are to proclaim the cry, “Semper Reformanda!” then we need to proclaim it with the gospel front and center. The gospel is this: “justification is received through the free promise” of God in Christ Jesus. This is a move from below just as surely as Jesus Christ himself lived, moved, and had his being from below here on earth. This is a move from below just as surely as we receive the promise of God by drawing living water as from a well. This is a move from below just as surely as we receive forgiveness of sins and life in wheat and wine which sprout from the ground. If we are to desire reform in the life of the church then we need to desire the gospel in our lives. 

There have been many cracks at reform within the church over the centuries (and a goofy blog post is not going to offer anything new on that front), but on the occasion of this momentous anniversary we who bear the marks of the Reformation need to bear the responsibility for always reforming. If you’ll indulge a block quote, Arthur Carl Piepkorn put it this way,

Lutheranism is not a particular way of organizing the church. World Lutheranism includes every conceivable form of church government--episcopal, consistorial, presbyterial, congregational. In fact, under certain circumstances it would be possible to be under the papacy and still be Lutheran. Nor is Lutheranism a particular way of organizing theology. Lutherans do not hold doctrines peculiar to themselves; they claim that their doctrines are those of the Sacred Scriptures taught and confessed by the catholic church of the past.

Lutheranism is rather a confessional position. To be Lutheran means to stand for a certain point of view or attitude concerning the central teaching of the church. To be Lutheran means to elevate the Gospel, the good news of God’s great work of rescuing men from death for life, accomplished by the atoning work of Jesus Christ and imparted through the presence of the Holy Spirit. It was the Gospel which the Lutheran Reformation proclaimed in opposition to certain teachings and practices of the sixteenth century church which negated or obscured God’s saving work. It was primarily because the Lutheran reformers felt some teachings of other reforming groups did not adequately present the Gospel that they remained distinct from them. To be Lutheran means to see the church’s teachings in terms of the Gospel. (Selected Writings of Arthur Carl Piepkorn, Vol II, 195).

May Lutherans always see the church’s teachings in terms of the gospel. May we always be reforming the Church through the elevation of the gospel. May we always take seriously the responsibility we owe to Rome and to the other branches of the Protestant Reformation by elevating this gospel. May we always seek peace within the Church--local and global--through the proclamation of the gospel. May we always take the gospel so seriously that we can afford to take ourselves less seriously. May the gospel of free forgiveness begin in our own hearts and work its way to our own lips to speak freedom to one another. May the joy found in being forgiven freely lead us to freely give of ourselves to our neighbors. May we Lutherans, of all people, bear the cross’ gospel in our very lives. 

Semper reformanda!

[the-record-columns]

April 12, 2017: Columns

“I had no intention of paying that money 

back without a fight…”

By Ken Welborn Record Publisher

 About 15 years ago, when Mike Inscore was still a Wilkesboro councilman, he began a project with Town Manager Ken Noland to have a series of biographical interviews videotaped with longtime residents of Wilkesboro.

I was fortunate enough to be asked to conduct several of those interviews over a period of days, including such folks as the Rev. Frank McKenzie, Don Story, Joe Linney, Coach Marvin “Red” Hoffman and several others. Some of the folks I was already acquainted with, others, I had never met, but all were fascinating trips through time and experiences that I will always treasure.

The fifth person I interview was Ray Stroud, a man I had known all my adult life.

And, I am proud of it.

    Before the interview, as the folks from Charter Cable (Now Spectrum) were setting up their equipment, and I was visiting with Ray, I made the comment to him that whatever successes I had been able to achieve in business, he was due the credit.  He smiled unassumingly while everyone else looked puzzled, but he knew exactly what I was talking about.     I first met Ray Stroud in the early seventies.     I was a young man of twenty-two,  my draft card, which was neatly signed by Mildred B. Neff from the local draft board, read 1-A.  This meant I was available for the Army, and I was unemployed.  I had found a little house I wanted to buy and the Realtor, Charlie Ham, told me to go see a man named Ray Stroud at the Wilkes Savings and Loan Association.  All was going well – I had saved some money to put down, and I felt as though I could handle  the house payment that the loan required.     Then Mr. Stround asked me where I worked.  “Nowhere,”  I replied.  I can still see the look of amusement on his face when he threw his pencil high into the air and said, “Well, we had better be figuring on getting you a job.”  We talked for a few minutes about my being a 1-A, and about jobs for which I might possibly qualify.  I had a little experience working for a heating contractor, and Ray knew a man who needed some help in that area.     He sent me to see Paul Cashion at Cashion Oil Company in North Wilkesboro.  Paul also owned Northwest Heating and Air Conditioning at that time and he needed some help.  In no time I had told Paul about my experience, and he offered me a job.

    But that’s where my story starts.     We sorta got hung up on the pay issue.     I had to have more money than Paul offered.  Now, let me hasten to add that his offer was okay, but the issue was getting the house financed.  I had to make 40% more than he offered me to qualify for the loan.     That was a pretty good stretch, but I went to work on it.  I proposed to Mr. Cashion that he should indeed pay me whatever I needed to make the Savings and Loan happy.  I would work for him for ninety days at those wages.  That would be long enough to get my loan approved and, if he wasn’t completely satisfied with my work after the ninety days, I would write him back a check for the difference between what he had first offered and what I needed.     “Let me think on that a minute,” he drawled, “I've never had a proposal quite like that.”  To his great credit, he didn't think too long before he said, as he shook my hand, "Let's give it a try."  Then, he added, "We've absolutely got to keep this deal between us, and us alone."     Well, try I did.     I have never worked so hard in my life.  I worked so hard the other guys made fun of me, calling me "company man" and the like.     But I didn’t care.  I had no intention of paying that money back without a fight, so I kept on working.  When I got caught up at the heating shop, I would go over to the oil company and work.     In no time the ninety days was up, and Mr. Cashion called me back into his office.  I took a seat and waited, confidently.  He looked over at me and slowly began to speak, “Ken, I don’t think I want you to work for the heating shop anymore.”     I was stunned.     Then angry.     I could feel my face turning beet red as I drew the breath to demand why.     He continued.  "Now, before you get mad, hear me out.  I also own a radio station in Wilkesboro, and there is an opening in advertising.  I think we would both be better served if you were working there."     By now, I was feeling much better.  He went on to say he would make me essentially the same deal I had made him, promising, "If, after ninety days, you don't like it, you can come back to your old job."     I took the advertising job and have been in advertising ever since.  I enjoyed working for Paul and stayed there nine years, leaving in 1982 to help start Thursday Magazine, predecessor to The Record.         When I told Mr. Cashion I was quitting my job at the radio station to go into business for myself, he offered encouragement and his unqualified support.     And he did as long as he lived.     I have often said that there are very few people for whom you can work, then leave and go into business competing with them, and twenty years later, still count them among your friends.    Paul Cashion is one of them.  Whenever I saw Ray Stroud, I always thanked him for getting us together.

Mindfullness of expectation

 By LAURA WELBORN

When you try to control too much, you enjoy too little.  Sometimes you just need to let go, relax, take a deep breath and love what is

Being mindful of our expectations is important both good and bad.  If I expect too much I will probably be disappointed and yet sometimes just the opposite is true.   In any case, we are faced with the reality that things aren’t always what they seem – we don’t always get what we expect.  And we begin to learn that our expectations are like fine pottery – the harder we hold on to them, the more likely they are to crack wide open.

So what can we do? Embrace reality, and make the best of it.

The truth is, we were promised trials and tribulations right from the beginning.  They were always part of the program.  Growing up we were told, “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” And I’ve accepted it.  The relationships, jobs, and projects that didn’t work out led me closer to the ones that did.  So while I’ve rarely gotten exactly what I wanted, I’ve often received more than I bargained for.

Of course, in the heat of the moment, when disappointing things are happening to you, not to others, and the outcomes you’re dealing with are real, not imagined, embracing reality and making the best of it is not easy. At some point, even when you’ve done your part to be mindful of your expectations, you will face disappointment- in yourself and in others.  Here are some thoughts that may help with that:

 1.               The truth hurts, but it’s much healthier than holding on to the lies you once believed. –Undiscovered lies erode our strength, our self-esteem, our very foundation to the bitter end.  Keep this in mind.  The truth heals, even if it hurts at first.

 2.               Arguing with someone who has intentionally hurt you only enflames the pain. – Truth be told, you are often most powerful and influential in an argument regarding betrayal when you are most silent.  The perpetrator never expects silence.  They expect yelling, drama, defensiveness, offensiveness, and lots of back and forth. They expect to leap into the ring and fight.  They are ready to defend themselves with sly remarks cocked and loaded.  But your mindful silence?  That can really disarm them.

 3.               Healing gets easier when you learn to accept an apology you never received. – Forgiveness is crucial for your healing. The key is to be mindful and grateful, despite what happened.  It’s taking a step back and saying, “Thank you for the lesson.”  When you forgive someone you are making a promise not to hold the unchangeable past against your present self.  It has nothing to do with freeing the perpetrator of his or her crime, and everything to do with freeing yourself of the burden of being an eternal victim.  (Marc and Angel Hack Life.com) 

Laura Welborn, Mediator and LCAS (Licensed Clinical Addiction Specialist).  Visit Laura Gentry Welborn on facebook or contact laurawelborn1@gmail.com

Anti-Semitism: Out of hibernation

and traveling at warp speed 

 By EARL COX

Special to The Record

Anti-Semitism: Out of hibernation and traveling at warp speed  

After a hiatus of relative calm, anti-Semitism has been accelerating at an alarming pace across the globe. Its most ominous surge is in Europe, Australia and North America—those traditional bastions of equal rights. All is not quiet on the Western front. Global anti-Semitism rose 30 percent in 2013 and 40 percent in 2014; in Europe, it increased sevenfold from the 1990s to the 2000s. "These are the worst times since the Nazi era," German Jewish leader Dieter Graumann told The Guardian. “It's pure hatred against Jews, nothing else.” Last year, anti-Semitism exploded exponentially, prompting U.S. Jewish leader Malcolm Hoenlein to warn of a “pandemic in formation.”

Europe is the seedbed of global anti-Semitism. Its roots are so deeply embedded in European culture and institutions that any type of spark can trigger a fire. Sparks fly from rightwing and leftwing extremists, nationalist political parties, radical Muslim refugees and allies, the Israel-Arab conflict, society’s discontented fringe elements, social media use - all these play a role. But anti-Semitism boils down to hatred - irrational, double-minded and deluded. And in the hands of institutional power elites - governments, academia, media, corporations or misled religious institutions - it’s increasingly dangerous.

Like locusts lying dormant for years before emerging as a destructive horde, resurgent European anti-Semitism should surprise no one. Nazi Germany alone did not spawn the Holocaust - sympathizers in Western and Eastern Europe plundered and murdered scores of Jews. Despite dormant periods, anti-Semitism never disappeared in Europe. It just went underground.

In America, overt discrimination against Jews reared its ugly head from the early 20th century until after World War II. While pockets of snobbery and racism remained, from the late ’60s to the late ’90s, a nearly global reduction in institutional anti-Semitism put Jews more at ease. According to author Alan Dershowitz, anti-Semitism in America reached an “all-time low” during that period; public expressions were rare, even among power elites, and anti-Zionism dipped slightly. That welcome respite witnessed “the virtual elimination of institutional anti-Semitism in most parts of the world.”  

The distinction between institutional, officially approved anti-Semitism and individual bias is key. Consider the change after Barack Obama took office in 2009, and placed pro-Muslim cronies in positions of influence in government, the courts, academia and other institutions. Obama’s grip on power opened the floodgates to anti-Israel and anti-Christian expression in America.

Poland in the 1930s provides a parallel warning. Immediately after the 1935 death of leader Josef Pilsudski, a strong supporter of equal rights for Jews and other minorities, those Poles previously intimidated from launching a full-fledged attack on their nation’s Jews moved publically to purge the Jews from Poland. Likewise, in the Jewish Scriptures, after a pharaoh arose in Egypt “who knew not Joseph,” the Hebrews were forced into slavery for 400 years until 

G-d sent Moses to free the captives on the first Passover.

Arguably, the most dangerous form of anti-Semitism is state-sponsored and institutionally implemented. Public institutions and other power elites wield great influence. If they embrace anti-Semitism, their influence could infect many, and anti-Semitism could mutate to “normal” thus putting Jews at grave risk. The good news is the brave men and women who speak the truth in the face of oppostion. U.S. Ambassador Nikki Haley is confronting anti-Israel bias at the United Nations. Recently, UNESCO Director-General Irina Bokova publicly rebuffed all efforts to deny Jewish history in Jerusalem—contrary to the positions of UNESCO’s member states.

No matter what form anti-Semitism takes, religious, racial or anti-Zionist; no matter how its disproportionate hatred and double standards are manifested, civilized, rational truth-seekers must fight this poison before it’s too late. Anti-Semitism undermines and attacks not only Jews, but all of us. No being has more institutional governmental authority than the G-d of Israel. And He has issued the decree: Whoever blesses Israel will be blessed, and he who curses Israel will be cursed.

  Easter Moments

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

I remember those previous Easters with family just as if there were yesterday. It’s funny how we remember certain things with clarity, and other things seem to come with a dense fog warning. Maybe that’s a good thing.

One year my Aunt Ella who was an exceptional seamstress made for me a stylish leisure suite made of bright colored polyester, which was a fashion statement of the time. New clothes for the Easter service is certainly a tradition in the Carolinas, and that is where my new custom suit made its debut. I may have broken the rule about being prideful.

To this day, I credit my celebration of colorful clothes to my aunt, Ella. The leisure suit that she so carefully crafted is long gone, and today my love of bold color expressions primarily take form in the socks that I wear.

I would later learn that the leisure suit was loved by disco-goers, gangsters, and dictators. What colorful company. If you are in need, eBay has an ample supply.

For lunch, Ham with sides and desserts filled the table. It seems as if the tradition of Ham for Easter goes back to the 16th century in Germany. Pigs were plentiful in Northern Europe and always available at Easter time. Early settlers would bring pigs to the New World, and that is what started our tradition of Ham on Easter.

The idea of decorating eggs has a long history that predates Easter.  Decorated ostrich eggs in Africa go back some 60,000 years. Early Christians adopted the practice of coloring eggs with a red dye to symbolize the blood of Christ.

Many egg-related traditions have evolved over the years.

Egg hunts, Egg Rolls, Egg tapping and Betty Daye, told me that her family would hide and hunt eggs and then a week after Easter they would take the collected eggs and throw them against big rocks.  

I visited Waxhaw NC where they drop 8,500 plastic Easter Eggs from a helicopter, and then the kids were released to hunt for them. Everyone seemed to love it.

Soddy-Daisy First Baptist Church puts on an ambitious Easter pageant.

The Easter Bunny, inspired by German Lutherans tradition, seems to be hopping all over the Carolinas doing all type of interesting things. You might think of him or her as a springtime Santa.

Ben Long who was born in the Statesville is among a minuscule group of the world's most respected Fresco artist. In Ashe County NC, Long painted an image of Christ on the cross with a picture of the Christ Ascension behind.  It is quite spectacular in that this one work of art visually tells the story of the Christian Easter.

Some would say that there are too many trappings around a time of the year when reverence is called for. I understand the notion, and at the same time, we only need look at history to see that We the People have a need to celebrate just about everything.

So, if you like: color your eggs, get the ham ready, set the baskets out for the Easter Bunny, put on your new suit and set the clock for early sunrise service, or not. You will have history on your side, either way, leisure suit not required however, the love of community and each other is.

Happy Easter

  Carl White is the executive producer and host of the award winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In the Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 8th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte viewing market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturdays at 12 noon.  For more on the show visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com, You can email Carl White at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com.          Copyright 2017 Carl White ,

� '

  ��P��d�74B

[deniscollins]

For Rajat Gupta, Returning Is a Hard Road

When criminal charges were filed against former CEO of McKinsey & Company’s Rajat Gupta for insider trading, the company removed his name from its alumni register. If you were a McKinsey partner, would you reinstate Gupta’s name back into the register after Gupta served a two-year federal prison sentence? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

One June evening last year, some of New York’s most prominent Indian-Americans gathered at a gated house in Rye, N.Y.

A few dozen Indian-American businessmen and their bejeweled wives, some decked out in colorful salwar kameezes, had arrived at the home of Ajit Jain, a top executive at Warren E. Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway, say people who were invited to the dinner. They were there to welcome back an old friend, Rajat K. Gupta.

Only two months before, Mr. Gupta had finished a two-year prison sentence for divulging corporate secrets to Raj Rajaratnam, the hedge fund titan now serving the longest sentence ever for insider trading.

At this dinner were many who had known Mr. Gupta for years. Among them were Toos Daruvala, currently the co-chief of McKinsey’s investment office, and Ravi Trehan, an investor with whom Mr. Gupta had teamed up more than a decade ago.

There were notable absences, too. Indra K. Nooyi, the chief executive of PepsiCo, was invited but declined to attend. So too did Dinesh Paliwal, the head of Harman International. Even Mr. Jain’s cousin, Anshu Jain, the former co-chief executive of Deutsche Bank and now president of the brokerage firm Cantor Fitzgerald, passed on the evening.

(All those named above declined to comment or did not respond to a request for comment.)

Still, to those invited, Mr. Gupta’s presence at a dinner given by an executive of Mr. Jain’s stature was a sign that he was to be embraced by the pantheon of Indian business leaders in the United States.

It was a striking show of support, especially as Mr. Gupta had been convicted four years earlier of tipping off Mr. Rajaratnam to a crucial 2008 investment in Goldman Sachs made by Mr. Jain’s company, Berkshire Hathaway. Mr. Gupta was a director on the board of Goldman Sachs when Mr. Buffett poured $5 billion into the firm at the height of the financial crisis.

Mr. Gupta, the former global head of consulting giant McKinsey & Company, became a pariah among many of the corporate chieftains who once craved his counsel. Now 68, he has been trying to restore his reputation and rebuild his fortune since being released from a federal prison medical center in Devens, Mass.

But he has struggled to reconnect with many former associates and clients in the United States.

His ties to India’s business community, and its diaspora of executives in the United States, have proved more durable. Many of them, like Ajit Jain, go back many years. Both Mr. Jain and Mr. Gupta were graduates of India’s famed breeding ground for chief executives, the Indian Institute of Technology, and they had been close friends during their rise up their respective corporate ladders.

While the friendships within the Indian community were forged decades ago and were rooted in kinship, Mr. Gupta’s relationships with non-Indian business leaders were usually newer and often driven by commercial considerations. When the commercial promise was shattered, the relationship broke down.

“The system in America had a stake in Rajat Gupta,” said Suhel Seth, the founder of the Delhi-based brand marketing firm Counselage. “There was a greater investment of respect and trust in the man, so they were the ones who felt a sense of deep betrayal.” By contrast, he noted, “the people who welcomed him with open arms in India had benefited more from him than he from them.”

During Mr. Gupta’s heyday, he was a sought-after board member and a regular attendee at gilded events like the World Economic Forum’s annual meeting in Davos, Switzerland.

Now, Mr. Gupta cannot get his former firm, McKinsey, which he led for nine years, to even acknowledge him.

A few months ago, Herbert Henzler, a former colleague of Mr. Gupta’s at McKinsey, pushed to have Mr. Gupta invited to the triennial meeting in Boston in June of the firm’s retired and former senior partners. Mr. Gupta wasn’t invited.

Mr. Gupta also failed in his effort to be reinstated in the McKinsey alumni directory. When criminal charges were first filed against the McKinsey senior partner Anil Kumar and later against Mr. Gupta, McKinsey moved to remove both names from the register.

McKinsey declined to comment.

Mr. Gupta also declined to comment for this article.

The rebuffs by McKinsey have rankled him, friends say. He is upset that the firm at which he spent almost his entire career won’t even acknowledge him as an alumnus — a fact that his incarceration has not altered.

Since his release from prison, Mr. Gupta has been providing consulting services, mostly in India, for Purnendu C. Chatterjee, a wealthy entrepreneur who knows Mr. Gupta from their early days at McKinsey when there were few South Asians at the firm. Mr. Gupta has also been embracing some of the charitable and educational causes he once promoted.

When Analjit Singh, the founder of Max Group, a diversified Indian conglomerate focused on health care and insurance, learned late last year that Mr. Gupta was coming to India, he held a party for him at his home near Delhi’s fashionable Golf Links area.

“I don’t know of any other Indian — underscore any — who has done more for India than he has,” Mr. Singh said recently, in explaining the affection Indians hold toward Mr. Gupta.

Counselage’s Mr. Seth, who was invited to the party, said that when he told Mr. Gupta that he had dented India’s brand, Mr. Gupta didn’t argue with that assessment.

Perhaps that explains the reason some Indians are keen to help Mr. Gupta’s public rehabilitation. And none may be keener than Indian-Americans.

In June, Mr. Gupta and his longtime friend Deepak Chopra were invited to address the second annual IIT Bay Area Leadership conference at the Santa Clara convention center in California.

Even though the event was billed as an opportunity for the two “pioneers in the business community” to discuss “their paths to success,” Mr. Gupta, an alumnus of IIT Delhi, devoted his remarks to speaking about the “extraordinary last six years.”

“While I continue to fight the injustice in my case, I have to candidly admit that I made errors and misjudgments, and for that I take full responsibility,” he told an audience of about 1,000 people.

He detailed a number of the great institutions — the IITs, the Harvard Business School, McKinsey, among others — where he had the privilege to work. He noticeably omitted Goldman Sachs, a firm he privately blames for actively helping government prosecutors build their case against him.

Goldman too was angry at Mr. Gupta for dragging its name into insider trading headlines. But under its policies, Goldman had to foot the legal tab for Mr. Gupta’s defense.

As part of a 2015 settlement, Goldman’s insurer has agreed to cover nearly $42 million of Mr. Gupta’s legal expenses even though he was convicted.

Under the settlement, Mr. Gupta has agreed to waive any future claims against Goldman or the insurer, suggesting that he is personally funding his recent efforts to expunge his conviction. Mr. Gupta is awaiting a decision from the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, which last year agreed to review his conviction.

Goldman declined to comment.

Speaking this spring at the Young Indians national annual summit meeting in Delhi, which was hosted by the Confederation of Indian Industry, Mr. Gupta was bitter about his experience with the American justice system.

He said he got “caught in the cross hairs between a very politically ambitious prosecutor” and “a judicial system and a system of juries that don’t really understand necessarily sophisticated financial crimes.” He blamed his legal troubles on being “fundamentally trusting of everybody.”

Though he didn’t offer details on his time in prison, Mr. Gupta, an avid bridge player, told friends in a letter in 2016 that he learned card games like spades in prison, discovered the art of poetry writing and even reignited his passion for chess after a long hiatus.

At the IIT Bay Area conference, his tone had mellowed a bit.

“During this time, I saw the underbelly of our justice system, endured imprisonment and eight weeks of solitary confinement but very importantly got to know who my real friends are,” Mr. Gupta told the gathering.

One of his greatest regrets, he said, is that he did let down young people who were part of the institutions he worked with.

“I want to apologize to all of you IIT alumni that I really did not live up to the highest standards that you would have likely expected me to do,” he said. “I genuinely ask for your forgiveness and understanding.”

The audience clapped, but after the panel was over, only a few attendees approached him, say two people in attendance. It was a very different scene from a decade ago when Mr. Gupta would be mobbed at events like these by aspiring young Indians.