#House Removals Essex

[morganbritton132]

Me: *talking to my sister and my mom about how i like to read about moments in history where people eat each other for survival*

My Mom: I would never eat a person. I would just starve to death

Me, defending cannibalism for some reason: You don’t know what you’d do when a situation is that dire. 

[elite-clearance]

Professionals you can trust

[five-miles-over]

Tom Hiddleston Characters: How They Would Propose (To You)

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Characters in this list: Will Ransome, King Henry V, Prince Loki Odinson, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, Bill Hazeldine, Coriolanus, Jonathan Pine, Robert Laing, Magnus Martinsson, Oakley, Thomas Sharpe, James Conrad, and Jaguar Villain! Tom Hiddleston.

Also, my sincerest apologies - they all turned into mini-fics.

Will Ransome from The Essex Serpent

Reverend Will would propose to you after a Sunday roast dinner, after your family invited him to your home. You were helping to clear the table with the rest of the ladies in your family when Will coughed to announce his presence. At once, everyone cleared the dining room, leaving you alone with the vicar.

"A word please?" He politely called you by name, his hands clasped in front of him. Will sat you down in one of the empty chairs. Gods how he wanted to reach out and tuck one of your stray hairs behind your ear in that very moment, one of the intimate things that he longed to do with you. Intimate things that would be proper in the eyes of God if you were his lawfully wedded wife. He did not sit down, and gently began talking to you. "For some time, I have been charmed by you. Not just your looks, that is not to say that you are not a lovely woman. You are most lovely, but I have also been charmed by your kindness, your humility, and your…virtue."

Will knelt before you, looking up with the most earnest gaze. "If you will bestow upon me the fortune of being your husband, then in return I shall do everything to keep you safe and comfortable.  I shall speak to your father, and we will be wedded in holy matrimony. You and I shall walk together upon this path of life, and I have no doubt that a virtuous woman like you will aid me in carrying out what the Lord decrees of us. My sweetest, please say that you will marry me."

Henry V from The Hollow Crown

With Henry, there was not much of a proposal to begin with. The marriage between you and the King of England was arranged by your father and his men, along with the king and his men. Still, Henry coaxed your father into having at least one private audience with you before the wedding ceremonies, so that he may properly court you as any suitor would. 

'My dearest lady," Henry began as soon as he was alone with you in his study while your father and his men stood vigil outside. "Lower thy veil, and let me behold your face." He reached forward and removed the hood of your cloak, smiling as he beheld your beauty for the first time. "Cheeks rosier than the flowers that bloom in springtime. Your lips and eyes are so enticing, they call to me like sirens. Yours is a face that I shall never tire of seeing.

I confess to you, my lady, that words are not my greatest strength. Were it so easy that I could simply strap on armor or fire an arrow into a target or vault into my saddle for a wife, I should quickly vault for a wife. Alas, tis not so. For a woman's heart is truly one of the most difficult conquests to embark upon. Nevertheless, tis a conquest that I shall duly pursue if you can deign to love me.

If you can love such a man as me, someone whose words are not their strongest suit and someone whose fidelity to you is true, then take me. Take a soldier, and in taking a soldier, you will take a king." Henry knelt before you and offered you his hand. "Sweetest of all maidens, canst thou love me?"

Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard

"I have called you to discuss a matter of great importance, my lady." Loki enunciated the formal title at the end in an attempt to conceal the butterflies in his stomach. He summoned you to the palace gardens at the house before twilight, when the sky would be decorated with streaks of orange and pink. You walked alongside him through the bushes and the groves of flowers. Loki clasped his hands behind her back, walking as if he ruled every inch of earth on which he stepped. 

He continued, "Yes, tis true that Thor, my brother, is the one whom my father has decreed to ascend the throne of Asgard," The younger prince of Asgard looked forward with a solemn expression while you listened with intrigue. "But he is incompetent." Loki turned to you. "He is idiotic and brash. You know as well as I do that he does not encompass the values of a king.

"Was he not the one who wished to invade Jotunheim alone, my prince?" You stopped in your tracks, just as the sun began setting into the horizon behind you.

"Yes, he was. It was all his idea, my lady." Loki did not bother to include his role in instigating Thor, it would not help him in this moment whatsoever. If he delayed this moment any further, he was convinced the words would be stuck in his throat, forever unable to escape. "You are one of the few people with whom I can share these thoughts, my lady." He sighed, his gaze fixated upon you and your beauty. "It is why I have called you here. In the coming future, I will need to protect Asgard from my brother's foolishness. And for that I should like to have a worthy companion by my side."

Loki conjured a shining dagger with a gold hilt out of thin air and promptly fell to one knee before you. The hilt of the dagger was engraved with the words, 'Min hærr, duonningen av mitt hjerte' (My beloved, Queen of my heart) Still on bended knee, Loki looked up at you with an expression of innocence that you never knew existed within him - wide eyes, baited breath, a meek expression. As if all his life were being wagered on a single thing right now. 

"I wish to make you my wife," Loki declared, his lips trembling. "Should you accept, I will bring my proposal to your family, and then we will be wed with due ceremony. And if you decide otherwise, then I shall…" he swallowed, "I shall respect your choice."

Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim from the Marvel Cinematic Universe

"This looks like something stolen from the Graham Norton Show." You raised an eyebrow when Loki handed you an orange and purple card.

"It's a scavenger hunt." Loki said with a twinkle in his eye. "Every clue leads you to the next one."

"I know how a scavenger hunt works, Loki." You rolled your eyes and flipped over the card. "Was this your idea, or is this some ridiculous team-bonding activity put together by Steve Rogers?"

"No. You see,…I have some errands to do, but at the same time, I have an obligatory excursion with the Lady Valkyrie."

You crossed your arms. "So why the scavenger hunt?"

Loki brightly answered. "Well, it makes the errands all the more fun!"

"Alright, but you owe me, Loki." 

"Good girl." The God of Mischief kissed you not the cheek and disappeared into thin air.

You glanced down and saw that the first card, which told you to pick up six cupcakes ordered under Loki's name. The cupcakes were from a specific café….that just so happened to be the place where you and Loki had your first date, which was set up by a far-too-enthusiastic Thor. The moment you got there, a waiter brought you a "complimentary" cupcake of your favorite flavor…along with another orange and purple card. 

The second card took you to the library, on the pretext of picking up a book that was on hold for Loki. There, the librarian handed you the book - Divine Comedy by Dante - and another book that you recognized. It was Pride and Prejudice, one of the first pieces of "Midgardian literature" that you introduced to Loki, a book that you were all too happy to fangirl over. But inside the book was - yes- another orange and purple card. 

The third card sent you to pick up Loki's dry-cleaning. (Really, Loki? Dry cleaning?) At the dry-cleaners, the person at the register handed you a transparent garment bag containing a black tuxedo with a ruffled white shirt. And then you were given a second garment bag with an emerald green gown embellished with diamonds. You couldn't help but stare a few moments at the pretty, expensive-looking gown. Before the person at the register could hand you another card, you made a mental note to ask Loki about the gown and whom it was for. You guessed it was probably for himself for the times he was feeling fabulous. Actually, Loki also liked to wear absolutely nothing when he was feeling his most fabulous…but that didn't matter right now.

The fourth card took you to the park where Loki confessed his love for you for the first time, on the pretext of picking up Loki's forgotten jacket and buying a bouquet of white flowers.

The fifth card took you across the city just to get a particular bottle of liquor that Loki had liked. Okay, now this guy was having a little too much fun with you right now. 

You were relieved when the sixth card, given to you by the liquor store clerk, led you back to the Avengers compound, to the same room where you began this entire scavenger hunt. You huffed a little, setting the box of cupcakes, the books, the two garment bags, Loki's jacket, the flowers, and liquor gently on a table. "Loki? Loki, where are you?"

Loki stood in the middle of the Avengers' common room, wearing polished gold armor over a black and green leather tunic with long, dark trousers. His hair was combed perfectly in place, and his hands clasped behind his back. He stood surrounded by a few candles and fairy lights hanging against the curtains.

"Okay, I need answers…" You sighed, already tired from running around all afternoon. "Loki, I got your things, just tell me what the gown is for and the…the liquor and the…Are you throwing a party or something?"

"I'm getting married."

"What?!" You gulped, reaching for the nearest couch. "I…what? You're getting married, why didn't you tell me? And…" You felt your head start to spin, preparing yourself for the worst. Whatever happened to all the times he said he loved you? Was he just using you to put together some kind of romantic gesture for someone else, just a tool?! Perhaps this is what you get for letting the God of Mischief into your life. Betrayal. "Well, I hope they make you happy, Loki." You relented, putting your head in your hands.

"She does." 

"Good." You murmured, trying your best not to cry in this moment. That was the last thing you wanted him to see. "Is that gown for her too?"

"Hm-hm. Of course, it'll probably end up on the floor after the engagement party, hehe."

"Loki, I am in no mood for your jokes right now." After a few moments, you looked up. 

"Come on,…have a sense of humor."

"NO!" You yelled, getting up from the couch. "No, I will not have a sense of humor right now! You used me! You used me, and lied to me. You told me to do all of these errands, like picking up dry cleaning, and buying liquor, without telling me that you were going to propose to someone else! You could have at least told me, just so I'd have some kind of closure. But no, you couldn't even think to do that. You told me it was a scavenger hunt, like I wasn't worth knowing the truth.

I...I did this because I care about you, Loki! I care about you like some kind of idiot who actually thought that you might like me the same way that I liked you. That right there, making me like you might just be the worst thing you have ever done me." You took a moment to breathe, and ran your hands through your hair. 

"Ugh…And you made me even pick up her engagement dress! What kind of person makes someone do that?!" You couldn't even think about the words you were spitting out, too busy with the hot tears clouding your vision. 

"The kind of person who knows how good it'll look when you wear it."

"What?!" You were taken aback all of a sudden. 

Loki approached you with a hint of nervousness. "Darling, you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I know I'm not easy to be with, that I drive you mad sometimes, and I make you put up with a lot. I...I should've practiced this more." He laughed under his breath. "Why didn't I?" Blinking, he pushed his hair back before continuing. 

"What I'm trying to say is,...my life has never been the same since I met you. You're the most steadfast ally, a wonderful friend, and best of all, you are the most passionate and loyal person I have ever known. I could never imagine my life without you, and I never want to. That's how much I love you."

The God of Mischief fell to one knee, and held up a small emerald ring with a gold band.

"Will you marry me?"

Bil Hazeldine from Suburban Shootout

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, sweetheart." Bill pulled his father's car into a driveway, and took your hand. "Just close your eyes, alright?"

"Alright…" After a few steps, you could hear Bill opening a door and the sound of a shopkeeper's bell, along with the muted conversations of various patrons. The scents of vanilla and grease reached you almost immediately. 

Bill held you close and whispered that you could open your eyes now.

When you opened your eyes, you laughed a little. "We haven't been here in a while…"

"You remember it?"

"How could I ever forget?" You kissed him on the cheek, and let him find a table for you. 

Bill's proposal began with him taking you to the milkshake diner where the two of you had your first date. After a bit of small talk over a banana split, Bill not-so-discretely excused himself. While you sat at the table with your spoon and checked your phone, Bill made his way to the jukebox with his hands in his jeans' pockets, feeling the small box inside. He'd almost thought about wearing a suit for this occasion, but his mum said it would make you suspicious. And his father suggested hiding the ring inside your ice cream to be more romantic , but Bill was terrified by the idea of you accidentally choking. Yes, keeping the ring with him was a better idea.

Bill took a deep breath and slipped a coin into the jukebox, flipping through the various tracks to find one of the songs you enjoyed. When he found one, he pressed play and called your name. Bill extended his hand out, offering to dance with you. He twirled you, and the two of you swayed in time with the music, smiling all the while. At the end of the song, Bill proudly kissed you on the lips.

He gently said your name, and pushed a bit of hair out of your face. "You're the one I want to dance with to every song…There's just no one like you, no one I could ever dream of that's just as wonderful as you are." Bill reached in his pocket for the small box, and fell to one knee, not caring who might be watching you in the diner. Inside the small box was a 0.3-carat diamond ring with a silver band. "Would you make me the happiest man in the whole world, and marry me?"

Caius Martius Coriolanus from Coriolanus

Coriolanus invited your family to dine with him and his mother one night on the pretext of an important matter concerning two important families of Roman nobility. It was not the first time he'd done such a thing, inviting your family to break bread with him and his mother. He had even visited your father's home before, sharing wine with your father and your brothers from time to time. It was through those meetings that Coriolanus fell more in love with your smile, the way you bit your lip when you were thinking,…and even the way your laugh infected him like a plague. And if there was anything more deadly to him than your simple, unadulterated laughter, then it was your beauty which had him fighting the urge to smile whenever you walked into a room or whenever he heard your voice.

But despite his best efforts, it became quickly aware to everyone in your family how besotted the general was with you. The way his head unintentionally bowed whenever he was in your presence, as if you were the sun and he would go blind if he looked you straight in the eye, never went unnoticed. The fact that you were the only person who could make him laugh, and that the simple mention of your name was enough to make the powerful General and conqueror of Corioles lower his usual barking voice made your family - and anyone else in the general's presence - giggle under their breath.

So when everyone had finished the prima mensa, Coriolanus stood up and raised his cup. "I have called you here tonight, to make a proposition," he declares with the same voice that he would use to speak to the Senate. "An alliance between our families…" The general turned his gaze to you for a moment, and exhaled to calm his racing heart, which only quickened when you looked back up at him. "If you will bestow upon me this honor, I wish to make your daughter…my wife. She is virtuous, and kind,…endowed with a noble background."

He waved for two of the servants of his household to present your mother and father with gifts of imported silk and valuable coins. And for you, the general had his servant gift place a set of golden jewelry - a girdle, five bracelets, and a layered necklace with rubies - in your lap. Underneath the girdle was a small piece of parchment with the words,

"I long to see you wearing these on our wedding night, my lady. Only these."

You turned red, and looked up and the general, politely expressing your thanks. 

"Should you accept," Coriolanus gave you a nod and turned to your family. "We shall make our alliance official in the presence of the gods. Your daughter shall be my wife, and I her husband. I will defend her from harm and protect her, as I have defended Rome time and time again. Your daughter will be cared for, and all I ask for in return, is your fidelity. Pledge to me your allegiance, for I shall need your influence when the time comes for the elections in the Senate.

Instead of a dowry give me your loyalty, and I swear that your priceless gem of a daughter will want for nothing for as long as I live. Do I have your word?"

Oakley from Unrelated

"Let's get married." Oakley off-handedly said while the two of you stood outside, leaning against the wall while he smoked a cigarette. 

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding?"

"No." He took another drag of his cigarette and turned to you with his ocean blue eyes and tousled, dirty blond curls. "We should get married."

"Who are you and what have you done with Oakley?" 

"What, you don't think I'm good enough to marry you?" He protested. 

Shaking your head, you laughed. "No, it's not that…"

"Well, then what is it?" Oakley crossed his arms and furrowed his brow at the sight of you laughing. "We have fun together, we make each other laugh,…we look good together, especially when naked-"

That was enough for you to playfully hit him on the shoulder, causing him to chuckle. He continued, "We like each other. We have this great relationship."

"But are you sure this is what you want?" You asked. "Don't you want to explore, try things? Do stuff before you're tied down?"

"Why would I do that? When there's this…beautiful, funny, smart, and sexy girl right there with me, I'm not even looking at anyone else." Oakley simply countered. "I like what we have, and i don't want to let it go. We can travel, explore the world, and I'll do it all with you." There was no sign of hesitation in his voice, but maybe it was just the cigarette fueling his courage. He came closer to you, and looked dead serious. "I don't want what we have to be just something we try for as long as we can, something we leave up to chance. I want forever with you."

"Forever?"

"Forever." Oakley knelt before you, his eyes going from a vivid cyan to a soft, almost pale bag blue. "I don't have a ring but…" He removed his necklace and presented it to you like an offering at an altar, calling your name. "Marry me."

Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager

Jonathan had been working with MI-6 for almost two years, embarking on various mission for them after he gained acclamation for helping to carry out Operation Limpet. He, along with officer Angela Burr, took down the infamous arms dealer Richard Roper once and for all.

Since then, Jonathan found himself a new home in London and got back in touch with you, the one who stole his heart back when he was still working as a night manager. He didn't know how much he truly missed you until you answered his letter, telling him about the twists and turns your life had taken since your last encounter with Pine. After about three weeks of exchanging handwritten letters - simply because they reminded you both of a simpler time and felt more personal - with Jonathan using a pseudonym to protect you, he invited you to visit London for a holiday. 

And those five days you spent in London were some of the best five days of Jonathan's life. He delighted in your innocence, the way you happily took his arm and strolled through the city, randomly surprising him with kisses. Arm in arm, without a care in the world except for each other, enjoying all that life would have to offer…This is how it should be, Jonathan thought to himself as he gazed at the sparkle in your eyes, the color in your cheeks. He listened as you talked about everything you liked about London, everything that disgusted you, and everything you hoped for in the future, simply taking in the opportunity to just be with you. 

After a few moments, you asked him about what he wanted in the future, and all Jonathan had to say was one word.

"You."

You looked up from your cup of tea. "Me?"

He took a breath. "Yes." Jonathan affectionately said your name, and reached for your hand. "I never grew up in a house with both parents, doting on me." He told you about how his life up until joining MI-6 was an abominable quest for order. How his time in the military and working in the hotel business was part of an aim to find a direction in his life, and how little happiness it truly brought him. How alone he felt whenever his life wasn't being threatened. 

Jonathan sighed, not used to telling so much about himself in a single conversation, laying his heart out on the table to be cut into and devoured. "I promised myself that I would find the one person that I could care deeply for, and love them. I promised myself that I would make friends, find a home…a place to belong. Maybe someday become a parent."

You looked upon him lovingly. "That's beautiful, Jonathan."

He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it. "I want all of those things, and I want them with you." Jonathan declared, quiet enough for the two of you to hear. "These past days with you have been…incredible. When I look at you, I see everything that I have wanted, the life that I want to be living five years from now, ten years from now." 

He continued, "You make me believe in a future that's worth building. The way you smile…, the way you look upon me and everyone with stars in your eyes…I want to be the one who keeps that smile on your face, the one who makes you laugh. I want to be the one who kisses you good night, and the first one you see in the morning. I want to be the one you come home to every evening, the shoulder you lean on." 

Jonathan stroked the back of your hand with his calloused thumb. "I know it's soon, but if there is anything that I've learned, it's that when you see something worth keeping in your life, you do everything you can not to let her go. You just do it." He looked into your eyes. "Marry me?"

James Conrad from Kong: Skull Island

It was the third time this week James had a nightmare. After thrashing and groaning, fighting an invisible beast, James found it in himself to call you - his neighbor whom he'd been dating for two years - on the telephone. His forehead and his chest were dripping with sweat, his expression one of agony, when you approached his bed. It was obvious that he had been in a lot of pain. 

James wasn't the type of person who wanted to expound upon the terrors he was feeling; he was a man of action who preferred expressing his emotions nonverbally. So, you respected that and simply talked about mundane things, things about civilian life that would temporarily distract James. As you both fell asleep, you made a mental note to remind James setting another appointment with his therapist, the one MONARCH had prescribed for him.

You woke up to an empty bed. It wasn't unusual for James to go out on an early morning walk to be alone with his thoughts. It was one of the things he'd learned from his therapist when he asked about how to be a better sweetheart to you while recovering from his trauma. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with a heavy heart, hoping it wouldn't be too long before you saw James again. 

While you styled your hair, you heard the door unlock. James walked inside, carrying a bag of breakfast pastries. "Good morning." He greeted you in a low, casual voice. 

"Good morning…" You would've asked if he slept well, but given the events of last night, that question made no sense. "I'm sorry I stayed over."

"No need to apologize." James set the pastries down and placed a kettle on the stove. While the water rose to a boil, James unwrapped the two chocolate croissants he bought, and glanced up to find you standing in the kitchen. You walked up to him slowly, and without missing a beat, James gently kissed you with an arm gently holding your waist. He murmured your name again, his breath warm against your lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

James gave you a chaste kiss on your forehead before going into his bedroom. "I brought breakfast for us both. Should I make us some eggs?"

"No need…" You watched James open one of his drawers. "Before I forget, do you want to make an appointment with your therapist?"

"Uh, I will." James returned to the kitchen with a small box in his right hand. "Thanks for reminding me."

"What is that?"

James took a deep breath. "Just something to thank you for last night,…and for everything you've done."

"James, you really didn't have to-"

"No. I've been wanting to do this for a year, it's time." 

Your breath caught in your throat as James opened the box to reveal a small, simple sapphire ring. He began, "I should've done this sooner, and I'm a fool for not doing so." James fell to one knee, and you gasped. "Darling,…Over the years I've known you, you have helped me…become a man again. You've remained by my side as I've made attempts to return to civilian life. You've comforted me during my worst hours, and you have given me something worth living for."

"James…"

"You're someone worth fighting for." He laughs a little. "I love you. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making you feel loved and caring for you in the ways that you have cared for me.

Darling, will you marry me?"

Magnus Martinsson from Wallander

"Marry me." Magnus groaned with relief when you brought him a plate of eggs, some coffee, and an aspirin. He was laying on your couch, hungover after a night out with you and some of his mates from the police station.

You simply rolled your eyes and laughed a little. "Eat your eggs, you'll feel better with some food inside you."

Magnus kept his eyes on you while you both drank coffee, his headache slowly diminishing. "That a yes?"

"No, Magnus." You flatly said. "You had a lot to drink last night. Just…eat your eggs and finish your coffee. I'm not saying yes to a guy that passed out on my couch after throwing up into the bushes outside."

He grimaced. "I did that?…Sorry." Magnus looked down and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. "Whatever, it was just a question, not like I meant it or anything." He pretended to brush off the matter. "You doing anything else today?"

"Tidying the house. You?"

Magnus closed his eyes for a moment to taste the savory flavor of the eggs. "i have a few things to do at the station for Kurt. Won't take long."

You and Magnus finished breakfast in silence before Magnus thanked you for letting him crash on your couch. "I'll see you soon." He said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You almost found it funny, the way he groaned for you to marry him, and chuckled to yourself. For all of his sarcastic quips and his cold exterior, there were times Magnus was an unintentional sweetheart. You'd known him for about seven months, how endearing he was whenever he tried to show off at darts or pool. You thought about the time he brought you soup every night when you had a flu that lasted for a week. And during that one time he showed up late to one of your date nights because of a case, he spent the rest of the evening simply snuggling with you until you fell asleep in each others' arms. It was one of the first times you'd ever seen him smiling so blissfully like a newborn baby.

About a few hours later, you could hear it rain outside, a bolt of thunder rumbling across the sky. While caught up in some trashy television, you heard a knock on the door. 

There was Magnus, standing outside drenched from head to toe. 

"Magnus, what are you-"

"I meant it." He confessed while the raindrops rolled down the sides of his face. "Marry me." He repeated when you asked him what he was talking about. Magnus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small gold ring with three tiny diamonds. "You're the most perfect person in this entire world. And it's not just because you make the best eggs." He said, making you laugh. "You're stunning, even when you've just woken up. You put up with a lot, and…I can't really say what it is you do to me, but I can't help it. I…I…"

"I love you too, you crazy detective!" You finished.

"So, is that a yes?" Magnus asked again, with a big grin on his face as he presented the ring to you. 

Robert Laing from High-Rise

"We need to talk." Robert broke the silence while the two of you shared a candlelit dinner in your flat. 

All traces of a smile disappeared from your face instantly. Usually nothing good ever followed those four words. 

You put your fork down. "What did you want to talk about?"

Robert looked you in the eye. "I moved to this high-rise to be alone, to be away from people. This…a relationship was the last thing that I wanted." He blinked, looking down at his plate for a moment. Then, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

You tensed in your seat, preparing for the worst. God, Robert. If he was trying to break up with you, then he just picked the worst time possible. 

The doctor stood up. "I thought I wasn't built for love…So I tried to be alone as much as I could, avoiding every chance to be attached to someone." He swallowed. "And then you came."

You let out a sigh, assuming that Robert was going to say something awful about your relationship. 

"It was like I couldn't even recognize myself anymore. What you did to me…" Robert called your name and walked over to you. "I cannot go a day without hearing your quippy words…, without seeing you when I come home,…without kissing you. It's more than anything I have felt in years." He confessed, his fingers tracing the back of your chair. "If you were to disappear from my life, it would feel like losing everything I've ever known. And…truthfully, the idea of that terrifies me. Maybe I could live without you,…but I don't know if I would be able to call it living.

"So what are you trying to say?" You murmured.

Robert sighed. "Forgive me, I'm not used to having these conversations."

"It's okay."

"You did it again." The doctor remarked. "You're making me fall in love with you, sweetheart." Robert went to the coat closet where he kept his blazer, and pulled a small box from one of the pockets. He returned to your side. "What I'm trying to say is,…that I'm in love with you. I'm in love not only with you, but with the way that you make me…feel things. The way that you remind me that there's a future ahead of us both. A future that can be much more than just dreary parties and squabbles between the upper floors and lower floors. You make me very happy, darling, and I think that you should know that." 

Robert took a deep breath and fell to one knee, next to your chair with the box opened to reveal a silver ring with a diamond heart. "Would you marry me, and make me an even happier man?"

Thomas Sharpe from Crimson Peak

You were sitting on the swing set in the garden of your family estate, enjoying the mid-morning sun and the gentle breeze. Idly moving your legs back and forth, you played with a small cluster of Baby's Breath in your lap. It was nice to be away from the bustling drama and the incessant gossip, and instead be surrounded by fresh air. 

"My lady." You were awoken from your reverie by a smooth, vaguely familiar baritone that belonged to none other than Thomas Sharpe. He was a guest who'd been staying at an inn near your family's home, having joined your family for supper at least ten times in the past two weeks. In your eyes, he seemed mysterious and yet full of stories to tell, always having an anecdote about a place he'd visited or a trick to show you and your siblings. There was something about him that made you drawn to him as soon as he walked into a room, you were unable to articulate what it was. 

"Good morning. What brings you here, Baronet?" 

The baronet gave you a smile, and leaned against a tree, watching you enjoy yourself on the swings. "I was speaking to your father and his, erm, associates about a business venture."

"About clay, right? Mining it?"

Thomas nodded. "Precisely, my lady. And you, have you been enjoying your morning?"

You blushed as he took a step closer. "Yes, Baronet."

"No need for such formal titles now, my lady. We're not at a ball, nor are we at supper. ''Thomas' will do." He gently said. "May I share your company for a while, my lady, if it would not be much of a bother for you?"

You allowed him, giving the Baby's Breath to him as a token of affection. No, not a token of affection. Simply a nice gesture that would hopefully give you a place in Thomas's good books. Maybe he might even ask you for a dance at the next ball.

"Will you be attending the ball this Saturday, Bar- I mean, Thomas?"

He nodded, taking a moment to smell the flowers. "You?"

"I will." 

"And have you chosen a gown, my lady?" Thomas decided to humor you a little. He smiled while you sheepishly described the dress that you had your eye on for that special occasion. "Well, I'm sure you will look divine wearing it, my lady. Do you often spend time here in the gardens, all by yourself."

"Yes. I enjoy the flowers, and the breeze. It's beautiful when the weather is pleasant."

"I can imagine, my lady. It's been a long time since I have relaxed in a garden." Thomas places the Baby's breath in his front pocket. "My lady, there is something I wish to know of you."

You stopped swinging, and asked him what it was.

"I would like to know if you would be interested in marrying me." Thomas knelt by your side, looking up at you with eyes that bore the same hue as a cloudless sky. "For some time, my lady, I have admired your numerous charms from afar. And with each passing day, my affections for you have grown stronger. I find myself thinking about you at the most unpropitious times of day." He sighs, "While I may not be a man of great fame or great brawn or of great wealth, I am a man of dignity." Thomas promised you, despite knowing it was a blatant lie. "I will make sure that you lack nothing as my wife. And to treat you with nothing but the compassion and the love that you deserve. All I ask in return, is that you try to find it in your heart to give me even an iota of your affections.

Would you be willing to do that, my lady?"

Jaguar Villain!Tom Hiddleston

Ever since you moved into the flat Mr. Hiddleston bought for you, the most powerful man in London always had a designated town car sent to pick you up from work or school every day. His favorite chauffeur would show up at the same time every weekday, give you a friendly greeting, and drop you off at your flat. And once you got there, you'd be greeted by a doorman that Mr. Hiddleston personally hired to make sure that you reached safely.

Today, however, the chauffeur did not drop you off at your flat. At least, not right away. "Monsieur Hiddleston had something different in mind for today," he said with a small grin, like he knew something was going on. The chauffeur dropped you off at the nail salon for a manicure paid for by your powerful beau. 

After being pampered by the nail technician for about forty-five minutes, you returned to the town car to find a bag in the backseat with the word 'Harrods' on it. "You went shopping?" You asked the chauffeur while he drove you to your flat.

"Non, it was all Monsieur Hiddleston. He was keeping this dress on hold, and asked me to pick it up for you. He would like you to wear it tonight."

You thanked the chauffeur with a smile. Inside the bag was a beautiful Carolina Herrera gown in your favorite color. And right on cue, your phone buzzed with a text from your beau, asking if you liked his gift. As always, you texted back saying that it was perfect. 

The chauffeur dropped you off at your flat, and asked you to be ready by seven-thirty…but not before taking a good look at your manicured nails and saying an early 'congratulations'.

"Gordon owes me a favor," Mr. Hiddleston bragged a little when he arrived in front of your building at seven-thirty sharp. He opened the door of his favorite black Jaguar, and helped you inside the front passenger seat. "You look stunning tonight, darling."

"You look amazing too," you couldn't help but say. It was the truth after all. "When you said Gordon, did you mean…?"

"We're going to the River Restaurant in the Savoy Hotel, darling." He kept one hand on the steering wheel, placing the other one on your knee. "Hungry?"

"Nervous," you sheepishly said.

"I'm here, nothing can harm you." He turned his eyes to the road. "Your fears are far behind you."

The moment you arrived, the host of the restaurant immediately led you both to one of the outdoor terraces, where there was a table for two set up. Mr. Hiddleston pulled the chair for you before sitting down, and a waiter poured both of you some Dom Pérignon. 

"This is beautiful." You gushed, watching the most powerful man in London raise an invisible toast. You clinked your glass against his. 

 He replied with a dramatic flair.  "Nothing compared to you."

"So…what did you to get this favor?" You leaned in and asked him while the waiter placed a charcuterie board for the two of you to share. "This is a seafood place, charcuterie isn't on the menu."

A twinkle in his cerulean eyes, Mr, Hiddleston fed you a piece of cheese. "That's confidential, darling. Just enjoy the night."

"I will."

The two of you made small talk about your day, and about Mr. Hiddleston's upcoming business trip to Paris. You would be going with him of course, Mr. Hiddleston would make sure of that. The waiter refilled your champagne, and your beau discretely gave him a twenty-pound note, whispering that it was time for the main course.

The waiter took about fifteen minutes to bring your elegantly-arranged entrees out onto the terrace. And as he came out, you could hear an orchestra from inside the hotel begin to play "All I Ask of You" from Phantom of the Opera.

"Enjoying yourself?" Mr. Hiddleston leaned forward with a smirk as he noticed you listening to the music.

You admitted this was one of the songs you enjoyed, and said it reminded you of the first time you'd ever heard of the musical. How much you wanted to be Christine in that moment, serenaded with the promise of a life with no more darkness.

"Well there's one more thing I have for you tonight, darling." With a smirk, Mr. Hiddleston reached into the pocket of his blazer, retrieving a small box labeled 'Harry Winston'. He slowly got out of his chair and made his way towards you. 

You gasped, covering your mouth almost immediately. You swore you could feel your heart stop just for a moment when his eyes met yours. It all made sense now: the manicure, the accidental 'congratulations', the gown,…

 "Oh my god…"

Mr. Hiddleston fell to one knee and opened the box, which contained a 1-carat diamond ring with a platinum band. "Love me. It's all I ask of you."

Tag list: @thatdummy-girl @icytrickster17  @mischievoushiddleston,@lokischambermaid , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisgoodgirl  , @lokisninerealms  @jennyggggrrr  ,, @tom-hiddleston-imagines  , @lokiismineforever  @smolvenger  @winterfrostlovetriangle  , @the-haven-of-fiction  , @turniptitaness   @cakesandtom  ,@sallymagnoliaposts  @leahs-reading-nook  @holdmytesseract  @muddyorbsblr @evelyn-kingsley @anukulee @acidcasualties @lotsoflokilove23 @caffiend-queen

[ukrfeminism]

5 minute read

TW: descriptions of sexual violence from the start

“For two hours he tortured me, his hands were everywhere. I thought rape was inevitable, I wondered whether I’d get out alive. We were in an empty property on a quiet cul-de-sac and he’d completely overpowered me.” These are the words of a female estate agent who was attacked by the seller of a property she had gone to value in Essex.

Hers is not a lone voice. Women in the property industry, who frequently visit empty homes alone — either to value them for sellers or to show prospective buyers around — are speaking out about the dangers.

Now, 30 years after the estate agent Suzy Lamplugh was declared dead (seven years after going missing on a viewing in Fulham, west London, with a man who called himself “Mr Kipper”) and 31 years after the Birmingham estate agent Stephanie Slater was kidnapped during a house viewing, women are saying it still isn’t safe to do their job.

Only 22 per cent of estate agents and letting agents, male and female, feel safe when on viewings, while 82 per cent say estate agent safety isn’t taken seriously enough — according to a survey of 150 agents across the country Allan Fuller an estate agent in Putney, southwest London.

The case of the estate agent in Essex, who spoke anonymously to The Times, was dropped by the Crown Prosecution Service last year, two days before coming to court. “I am furious, he had the money to hire a big shot lawyer. I feel let down,” she says. “It has been absolutely horrendous. It had a massive effect on my whole life: my relationship of 15 years broke down and I ended up on antidepressants and having panic attacks every time I went on a valuation.”

Although she has now moved agencies, she continues to work as an estate agent. “I thought, if I give up my job, he has won again — and I love my job.” However, she insists her female colleagues carry rape alarms, check in before and after house visits, and follow strict protocols about leaving doors open in properties and never getting into cars with sellers or potential buyers.

Fuller says: “There is a common misperception in the industry that ‘it won’t happen to me’.”

The responses to Fuller’s survey show that it does happen. One female respondent who works in the West Midlands wrote: “I recently valued a property and met with a man accused of domestic violence and I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life. He proceeded to show me an over-stair cupboard and said that there was ‘enough space for three dead bodies’. I left quickly after that.”

Other comments included:

“During a repossession the owner climbed into the loft and was threatening with a knife. Police had to taser him twice to safely remove him.”

“Carrying out a market appraisal with a gentleman who revealed he was due in court the next day to be charged with rape.”

“I believed a viewer was carrying a knife on a viewing, they were trying to get me into a certain room. The vibe wasn’t good, so I managed to email my office an SOS. Two members of staff came and pretended to be the next viewers.”

And: “I was covering a valuation and the person locked me in without me knowing and as I went to leave he went to hug me. I had to duck under his arm and unlatch the door quickly to get out.”

It’s not just on visits that workers are vulnerable, though. One estate agent told The Times how she was assaulted by a prospective buyer while working alone in an office in Oxford on a dark December evening. After being cornered, by the photocopier, she says she managed to “thump him in the windpipe” and run for help. He was arrested and charged. She now insists all her staff carry rape alarms and follow strict safety rules in and out of the office.

Fuller says he makes staff safety a priority too, sending his staff on self-defence courses — “one tip I picked up was if a man is making an unwanted move on a woman she should look as if she’s about to be sick, they soon back off” — issuing rape alarms, fitting CCTV and insisting that prospective buyers and sellers visit the office, verify their name and address, and are captured on camera before going on viewings.

Claire Lewis, 65, was an estate agent in Putney at the time Lamplugh went missing. She says: “Everyone was so shocked, we’d been getting into cars with prospective clients and going on viewings with men. It never occurred to us that anything could happen. That all changed and we suddenly became much more aware.”

However, she now worries for her daughter, Charlotte Dale, 34, a part-time estate agent in southwest London. “Generally things seem more dangerous for women even though they have mobile phones. Whereas in the past men acted in isolation — now they receive validation and encouragement on the internet,” Lewis says.

The estate agent from Essex, who was tortured for two hours, says she wants to see a national campaign to draw attention to the dangers: “Some estate agents seem to care more about protecting assets, with money laundering checks etc, than they do about protecting their staff. This has to change.”

[kiya-cannibal-bug]

TQBF ALIASES:

The quick brown fox, Mayhem, Jackal Queenston, Renard Queenston, Kitsune, Rotteen, BANDETTO and Emoticon are all of the characters

He has over 334 releases under multiple different aliases such as: LAPFOX, Jackal queenston, Renard, Hailey Labs, etc.

(It’s loud furry music)

With his different ‘Fursonas’, and aliases he releases different music styles under each one

Renard Queenston:

Raggacore, Breakcore, Experimental

Jackal Queenston:

Jungle/Drum and bass

Mayhem:

Electro house

Rotteen:

Hardcore fusion

Kitsune:

Chiptune/Chipcore

Quick brown fox:

Speedcore

BANDETTO:

Gabber, happy hardcore

Emoticon:

Oldskool happy hardcore

More about Jackal Queenston:

SPECIES

Jackal/German Shepherd hybrid

GENDER

Male

GENRE

Jungle/Drum and Bass

DATE CREATED

May 2008

CHARACTER DESIGNER(S)

Em Essex, Timmothy Sewell, Squeedge

STATUS

Retired

Jackal Queenston was an alias under the Halley Labs label. He is a hybrid of a jackal and a German shepherd, who was often seen smoking and wearing attire originally inspired by the Nazi Party and other WW-II era uniforms, as time went on, JQ's outfit would slightly change to reflect less of its original appearance, with the Nazifur symbol being replaced with an X as a homage to Metal Slug, to the armband and hat badge being completely removed. He typically produced drum and bass, characterized by heavy bass lines, fast drum breaks, and dark themes alluding to violence or power.

Jackal Queenston originally debuted as a new character for the Mungyodance series, with songs first appearing in an official Addon Pak for MGD 2 and then MGD 3: The Third Rave, released on August 23, 2008. His first album, Rise, included several songs originally made for the Addon Pak.

Due the rise of Neo-Nazism on the internet, no possibility to redesign this character without connection to offensive content, and the restrictions of the alias's sound, Jackal Queenston was retired around the end of 2020.

Rise (May 2008)

Poison in a Killer's Sketchbook (October 2008)

Slop (June 2009)

Conquer (June 2009)

Smal Nästa (September 2009)

EPs

Cursed (2008)

Laugh at Life Remix EP (September 2008)

Jakkaru (October 2008)

Poison (October 2008)

Soulcrusher + Heartsifter (With Sonitus Vir) (November 2008)

Robo EP (December 2008)

Down Here EP (March 2009)

Slop EP (April 2009)

Primo Gusto (May 2009)

Fire Planet EP (May 2010)

Midwich / Toluca (June 2013)

Meat Machine EP (April 2019)

The State of DNB 2020 (June 2020) (with deuteronomy)

Singles

King Vicious (June 2008)

Mechanized (September 2008)

You're Already Dead (September 2008) (vs Emoticon)

Injection (2008)

MilkshakeManCP - That's Disgustingly Beautiful (JQ Remix) (August 2009)

Panic (December 2009)

Sleep Tight (December 2009)

Infamy (April 2010)

Raatid Fiah! (January 2011)

The Road (March 2013)

Mixes

Painajainen (August 2008)

In Strange Care (April 2010)

The Killer's Notebook (August 2010)

Compilations

Singles Collection (June 2008)

Don't Stop Moving (November 2011) (with NegaRen)

Other appearances

Furries in a Blender - Dig. Trax (2008)

Kitsune² - Squaredance (January 2008)

MGD Sound Team - End of Days (August 2008)

Kitsune² - STRIKER (August 2008)

Dig. Trax III: 2008 Year-End Mix (Limited Edition) (December 2008)

Mayhem - Dig. Trax IV (December 2008)

Adraen - Your Roots Aren't Showing EP (January 2009)

PHYZ TRUX KOLLEKSHUN (January 2009)

Azrael - Overdead (June 2009)

Furries in a Blender - The Best! The Best! (June 2009)

Klippa - Turn Back (June 2009)

Renard - NO. (July 2009)

ON Trax Vol. 1 (March 2010)

ON Trax Vol. 2 (March 2011)

Lapfox Anthology (July 2011)

Darius - ERGOSPHERE (August 2011)

Renard - Old Undesirable Audio Files (March 2012)

ON Trax Vol. 3 (March 2012)

ON Trax Vol. 4 (September 2012)

ON Trax Vol. 5 (December 2012)

RAKUGAKI (July 2013)

ON Trax Vol. 6 (December 2013)

ON Trax Vol. 7 (April 2014)

The Queenstons - dethrone (December 2014)

LFTHHC SQUAD - FIRST❤REFRESH (March 2015)

Rotteen - Bon Voyage (October 2015)

DJ Snaggletoof - THE FUCKDEST JAMS (November 2015)

B-SIDE U: 2015 (December 2015)

B​-​SIDE U: 2016 VOL. 1 (May 2016)

ON TRAX: THE ABSOLUTE (September 2016)

Patreon Exclusive Series (2014 - 2016)

B-SIDE U: 2017 VOL. 1 (July 2017)

HALLEY LABS SOUND CREATION - AKUMA NO AKUMU 〜AR EQ-KUA ER SETA〜 「FIRST DREAM」 MINI SOUNDTRACK (October 2017)

B-SIDE U 『𝟚𝟘𝟙𝕏 ø۷ﻉɼिɭ๏ฝ』 (February 2018)

B-SIDE ME 2018 (July 2018)

Rotteen - it's an EP! (October 2019)

EVERYDAYS02 ~february~ (February 2020)

B-SIDE the WAYSIDE (March 2020)

FD04 ANOTHER VERSIONS (May 2020)

Mungyodance discography

Mungyodance 3: The Third Rave

Amber Starlight

Amber Starlight EX (with Renard)

Funky Rhythm (feat. Dean Gamin & Haiku)

Killing Fields (with D-Mode-D)

Killing Fields EX (with D-Mode-D)

Osiris

Sunrise (Jackal Queenston Mix)

The Holders

Fun facts :3

Jackal Queenston is 5'7" and weighs 150 lbs. [citation needed]

The 'X' insignia seen on Jackal's armband is an homage to the Rebel Army from the video game Metal Slug.

This change was made by Squeedgemonster, who eventually removed the armband in other art. Em agreed to these changes. [1]

Before Squeedge's Metal Slug homage, in older artwork it is seen that Em wanted Jackal's armband to have an paw insignia, depicting that Jackal is a Nazi Fur.

Jackal's markings used to be that of a golden jackal, but were changed later on to show more resemblance to a German Shepherd.

Jackal may hold the record for songs that were later attributed to another alias, with Amber Starlight (re-attributed to The Queenstons), Sleep Tight (re-attributed to Adraen), Soulcrusher + Heartsifter (both re-attributed to G-DARIA, Darius' stylistic predecessor. They were originally collaborations with Sonitus Vir). Poison & After Effect (both re-attributed to Azrael, as collaborations between the two), and My Wolf Eats Preps (re-attributed to Renard). Humanoid was originally a Jackal song (It is still available on ON Trax Vol. 1), but it was later re-released with vocals on The Queenstons' album Figurehead.

Em has expressed that Jackal Queenston is due for a design overhaul to completely be rid of looking like a Nazi. [2]

Full name: Jackal A Queenston

Sex: Male

Date of Birth: April 20, 1986

Blood Type: O

Country: Germany

Province: Saxony

City: Dresden

Artist type: Nazifur (before Metal Slug redesign)[1]

Lmk if u want more TQBF STUFF BBG😘😘😘💣💣💣

H U H

You scare me pookie 😰😰

[ltwilliammowett]

Mary Anne Talbot - a female Soldier and Sailor

Mary Anne Talbot is one of the women who have the adventure of serving at sea disguised as a male sailor. She was born in London on 2 February 1778, the illegitimate daughter of William Talbot, 1st Earl Talbot. Her mother died at birth, her presumed father when she was four years old. She was brought up by a wet nurse at Worthen in Shropshire until she was five, after which she attended a private boarding school in Chester, run by a Mrs Tapperly, until she was 14. The only relative she knew was an elder sister, an Hon. Miss Dyer, who also died quite young in the birth of her child in 1791. She enlightened Mary Anne about her presumed parentage before her death and left her a handsome fortune of £30,000 sterling. From this fortune Mary Anne could have had an annual income of 1500 pounds, but her sister's chosen guardian, a Mr. Sucker, did not provide for her further education, but gave her to Essex Bowen, a captain in the 82nd Regiment of Foot.

Mary Anne Talbot, by G. Scott, after James Green, published 1804 (x)

The latter took her to London, where he made her his not-so-voluntary mistress in 1792. But already in the autumn of 1792 he was to go to Flanders and simply took her with him. To this end, he passed her off as an errand boy, who took her to St. Domingo as John Taylor. From there she went to Flanders, where she was now listed as Drummer Boy. As such she took part in the capture of Valenciennes on 28 July 1793, where Captain Essex was killed. She now deserted the regiment and made her way through Luxembourg to the Rhine, until in September 1793, out of necessity, she signed on as a cabin boy to the captain of a French lugger called Le Sage. The lugger, according to her account, had been captured by Lord Howe in the Queen Charlotte, and "Taylor" (as she still called herself) was assigned to HMS Brunswick 74 guns under Captain John Harvey (1740-1794) as a powder monkey, in which capacity she took part in the great victory of 1 June 1794, but was severely wounded by a grape shot that shattered her left ankle.

Captain Essex with his footboy John Talbot (x)

She spent four months at Haslar Royal Naval Hospital in Gosport. She then became a midshipman on the Bomb Vessel Vesuvius. However, this was captured off Normandy by two French privateers. As a prisoner, Taylor remained in Dunkirk for 18th months. After her release, she signed on with the American ship Ariel under Captain John Field, sailing to New York in August 1796. In November she returned to London on the Ariel. There she was picked up by a press gang in Wapping. In order not to have to re-enter the Royal Navy, she revealed her true gender, whereupon she was discharged. She then haunted the Navy's pay office for some time, and various donations were collected for her. But she was intemperate and spent her money frivolously. The Duke and Duchess of York and the Duchess of Devonshire, it is said, interceded for her.

Mary Anne Talbot resisting a Press Gang, by John Chapman (x)

After a series of employments including a gig as a jeweller's assistant or a performance in a small theatre in Tottenham Court Road in the Babes in the Wood, and a stay in Newgate from which she was rescued by the Society for the Relief of Persons confined for small Debts, her misfortunes forced her to take refuge as a domestic servant in the house of the publisher Robert S. Kirby in St. Paul's Churchyard, who recorded her adventures in the second volume of his Wonderful Museum, 1804 and continued her story in  The Life and Surprising Adventures of Mary Anne Talbot, 1809. After three years' service, a general deterioration, caused in part by the wounds and privations she had suffered, rendered her unable to work regularly, and she was removed to the house of an acquaintance in Shropshire at the end of 1807. There she remained for some weeks, and died on 4 February 1808, aged 30.

Mary Anne Talbot, by G. Scott, after James Green, published 1804 (x)

Perhaps some of you have noticed that there are certain similarities to Hannah Snell. And in fact, her story is very much in doubt. Because there are great inconsistencies with the times and the ships that she had given in her biography. Because there is no Talbot on the ships listed and there was no Talbot on the Vesuvius at the time it was captured, and the capture itself is also questionable because the ship was not off Normandy at that time but in the West Indies. Whether she just mixed things up here or whether they were chosen to spice up her story is questionable, and it cannot be ruled out that this story was a product of fantasy.

[georgefairbrother]

On 18th September 1972, BBC News reported that the first 193 Ugandan refugees, fleeing persecution by the country’s military dictatorship, had arrived at Stansted Airport, Essex. Over half of the arrivals had British passports, and housing and immediate needs would be overseen by the Ugandan Resettlement Board.

Uganda’s Asian community, numbering around 55 000, many of whom ran family businesses and small enterprise, were ordered in August 1972 to leave the country within 90 days by President Idi Amin. Amin had publicly denounced Ugandan Asians as ‘bloodsuckers’, threatening that any who had not left by the arbitrary deadline of November 8th would be interned in military detention camps.

Many of the initial flight of refugees had endured frightening experiences prior to their departure from Uganda, at the hands of Amin’s troops. "On the way to the airport the coach was stopped by troops seven times, and we were all held at gun point," one refugee told reporters. Another stated that he had been robbed of personal valuables and Ugandan currency on the way to Entebbe airport.

News reports at the time cited some opposition within the UK over the acceptance of the Ugandan Asians. The Leicester local authority mounted a newspaper campaign urging refugees not to come to their region seeking jobs and housing. The BBC asserted that, in hindsight, the resettlement programme was seen as ‘a success story for British Immigration’.

The loss of the hardworking and successful Ugandan Asian community devastated Uganda’s agriculture, manufacturing and commerce. Idi Amin was deposed in 1979 and died in Jeddah in 2003, having been responsible for the deaths of as many as 300 000 Ugandan civilians during his reign of terror as President. In 1991, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni invited the expelled community to return home to help rebuild the economy.

The Wilson Labour government also had to grapple with a refugee crisis from a former African colony.

In February 1968, BBC news reported;

"…Another 96 Indians and Pakistanis from Kenya have arrived in Britain, the latest in a growing exodus of Kenyan Asians fleeing from laws which prevent them making a living…"

Many Asian people living in Kenya had not taken up Kenyan citizenship following the country’s independence from Britain in 1963, but possessed British passports. Under Kenya’s Africanisation policy, non-citizens required work permits, and were being removed from employment in favour of Kenyan nationals. There was growing public demand for laws to prevent non-citizens from owning businesses or even operating as street and market traders. As a result, British passport holders were leaving Kenya at the rate of 1000 per month, leaving a huge deficit in skills and experience within the business community and civil service.

Fearing a backlash over the large numbers of Asian immigrants, Home Secretary, and future Prime Minister, James Callaghan, rushed through the Commonwealth Immigration Act, which made it a requirement that prospective immigrants must have a 'close connection' with Britain.

This led to disagreement in Cabinet, with Secretary of State for Commonwealth Affairs, George Thomson (1921-2008) arguing;

"…To pass such legislation would be wrong in principle, clearly discrimination on the grounds of colour, and contrary to everything we stand for…"

In 1971, the Heath government made further legislative changes that would mean that (some) immigrants from Commonwealth countries would be treated no more favourably than those from the rest of the world, and that tightened restrictions on those who stayed by linking work permits to a specific job and location, requiring registration with police, and reapplication to stay in Britain each 12 months.

The Patrial Right of Abode lifted all restrictions on those immigrants with a direct ancestral connection with Britain.

Home Secretary Reginald Maudling (later famous for being smacked in the face by Irish MP Bernadette Devlin, and for having to resign over a corruption scandal linked with disgraced property developer John Poulson) denied that this was, in effect, a 'colour bar', telling the BBC;

"…Of course they are more likely to be white because we have on the whole more whites than coloureds in this country, but there is no colour bar involved…"

Unsurprisingly, not everyone was convinced.

Vishna Sharma, Executive Secretary of the Joint Council for the Welfare of Immigrants, described the bill to BBC News as, "basically racially discriminatory, repressive and divisive," and added, "It will create divisions amongst the Commonwealth citizens already living in this country on patrial and non-patrial basis. It will create day-to-day bureaucracy and interference on people living in this country. It will create more hardship for people wanting to enter into this country."

(Source; BBC reporting and history.com. Photo Credits; BBC News)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Feb 26, 2024

[ Credit: Miriam Elia ]

Far away in the land of Sylvania, some woodland creatures have gathered to celebrate Pride. There’s a cross-dressing fox, a PVC-clad boar, a rabbit in full drag on a float. Rainbow flags and bunting abound. But just out of sight, perched above an ice-cream kiosk, are three sinister little figures in black face masks. They could be hedgehogs. They could be squirrels. One of them has a machine gun.

Isis in Sylvania was the work of the satirist Miriam Elia, a set of tableaux which was meant to be shown at the Passion for Freedom art exhibition at the Mall Galleries in London in 2015. The pieces were withdrawn after police said they might cause offence. That the gallery capitulated so easily would suggest that its self-declared “passion for freedom” was limited.

Elia’s display brilliantly lampooned our infantile response to the growing threat of Islamic terrorism, and it seems more relevant today than ever. After the police had sent emails to the gallery declaring that Isis in Sylvania was “not art” and that “all mentions of it should be removed from the promotional materials, social media etc”, Elia responded:

“The decision to censor shows that our establishment is more threatened by satire, clarity and truth than by young men willing to kill, rape and pillage in the name of Islam. Apparently my images were ‘potentially inflammatory’ to terrorists. This is the equivalent of saying an anti-Nazi cartoon in the late 1930s was offensive… to Nazis. Those who justify and protect barbaric totalitarianism, in whichever form, are on the fast track to becoming totalitarian themselves.”

The reaction of the police, of course, exemplified the very problem that Elia had been satirising in the first place.

It should be clear to everyone by now that kowtowing to the wishes of terrorists only encourages them. Last week Lindsay Hoyle, speaker of the House of Commons, was pressurised into overriding parliamentary convention because of an apparent risk to security. He spoke of “absolutely frightening” threats directed at MPs because of their reluctance to call for a ceasefire in Gaza. He also alluded to the murder of MP David Amess by an ISIS sympathiser. “I never want to go through a situation where I find a friend from any side has been murdered,” he said, “I also don’t want another attack on this House.” The word “Islamist” was not mentioned, as though not talking about the problem might make it disappear.

Hoyle is correct that the threat of violence is very real. Nobody would seek to downplay the murder of David Amess at his constituency surgery in Essex in 2021, or the beheading of schoolteacher Samuel Paty in Paris in 2020, or the massacre at the offices of satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo in 2015. But our tendency to forget these atrocities, and move on as if nothing has happened, is chilling. Many of our politicians are too afraid to address the issues out of fear of being branded “islamophobic”, an absurd neologism often deployed to conflate anti-Muslim hatred with legitimate criticism of Islam.

How much reflection was there after the Manchester Arena bombing in May 2017 in which children and teenagers were slain? After the killing of Amess there was endless discussion in parliament about how we needed to crack down on social media, as though the radical Islamist responsible was motivated by online trolling rather than the creed of a medieval death-cult. We are like the woodland animals in another of Elia’s scenes, blissfully enjoying a picnic while armed and masked assailants appear on the horizon.

[ Credit: Miriam Elia ]

So while I have sympathy for Hoyle’s very human reaction to the spectre of violence, it is clear that the failure of politicians to accurately diagnose the problem is only making matters worse. Those few brave individuals who are prepared to speak out are putting themselves in danger. But with a collective effort the risk could be spread and at least become tolerable. After the Charlie Hebdo atrocity, media outlets refused to show the offending cartoons of the Prophet Mohammed, but if all of them had done so simultaneously, the threat could have been diluted.

If the speaker of the House of Commons is prepared to modify parliamentary procedures due to threats from far-left cranks and radical islamists, where does this leave our democracy? It is hardly surprising that increasingly we are seeing commentators claiming that the values of liberalism cannot be sustained against this particular brand of authoritarianism. They suggest that liberals are too weak to tackle those who do not share their commitment to individual freedom.

It is true that too often exemptions have been made out of fear of causing offence to religious minorities. Police in the north of England failed to enforce the law against predominately Pakistani grooming gangs for fear of being branded “racist”. The inquiry into the Manchester Arena bombing found that security guards held back from intercepting the killer for similar reasons. Sharia courts have been operating in the United Kingdom for decades and, although their rulings have no legal standing, they do hold authority within Muslim communities. And we have seen how police have overlooked some of the worst behaviour at the now regular pro-Palestine marches in London.

But this is not a weakness at the heart of liberalism; it is the failure to properly follow its principles. All branches of liberal thought – from the conservative liberalism of Friedrich Hayek to the social liberalism of John Rawls – share an understanding that the rule of law is paramount. Individual autonomy cannot be preserved if the state is unable to maintain the peace and impartially resolve the natural conflicts of human existence.

A well-intentioned commitment to multiculturalism has enabled parallel societies to flourish within the United Kingdom. In turn, this has granted authority to the most reactionary elements within religious communities. Sharia law may be an ambition for ultra-conservative theocrats, but many female and gay Muslims will not find it such an appealing prospect. We need to stop appeasing these minorities within minorities, small groups of extremists that by no means represent the average British Muslim. And this means that our parliamentarians must retain their courage, even in the face of violent threats.

More than anything, we need to be able to talk about this crisis with honesty and candour. However comforting it might be in the short term, our political class cannot go on living in their Sylvanian fantasy, wilfully oblivious to the masked elephant in the room. This denialism is a form of procrastination, putting off the inevitable for another day. The values of our liberal democracy and our hard-won rights are under threat. It’s time to grow up. 

A limited edition book of all the images in Miriam Elia’s “Isis in Sylvania” series is available to buy here. A signed limited edition print of the picnic scene is available here.

==

We have to stop being panicked when people claim to be offended.

[queenmarytudor]

Mary I's Fight For The Throne

8th July - Mary announces the King's death to her household

Mary takes counsel with her advisors, and following that has her whole household summoned to her presence. She then tells them "of the death of her brother Edward VI; the right to the Crown of England had therefore descended to her by divine and by human law after her brother's death, through God's high providence, and she was most anxious to inaugurate her reign with the aid of her most faithful servants, as partners in her fortunes. Roused by their mistress's words, everyone, both the gently-born and the humbler servants, cheered her to the rafters and hailed and proclaimed their dearest princess Mary as queen of England." 1.

She starts the first of many letters to rouse her supporters, writing to knights Sir George Somerset, Sir William Drury, Sir William Waldegrave and Justice of the Peace Clement Higham "signifying unto them the king’s death, and thereby her right to the crown, requiring them to obey no commandment to be issued out upon any pretence or gloss of the deceased king’s authority, being bound now to be true liegeman to her own, and lastly charging them, in all haste possible, to prepare and put themselves in order to repair to her at Kenninghall, where at their coming, they should know further of her pleasure." 2

Mary's actions have not gone unnoticed.

The Privy Council, after finding out of her departure, "despatched to the officers in all parts of the kingdom" 3 the following letter:

"So it is that the lady Mary, not many days past, removed from [Beaulieu] in Essex to her house of Hunsdon in Hertfordshire, the cause whereof, although we knew not, we rather think it likely that her grace would have seen his majesty; but now upon Tuesday last she hath suddenly, without knowledge given given either to us here or to the country there and without any cause in the world by us to her given, taken her journey from Hunsdon towards Norfolk, making her first day's journey to one Mr Huddlestone's house in Cambridgeshire, being the same too far for her any of her accustomed journeys [...] before this her sudden departure, she had caused great provisions to be made in the country about Hunsdon, for keeping of her household there a long time [...] and although some of hers note her removing to be for the sickness of her servants, yet we see no likelihood of truth therein." 4

In fear and anger at her having slipped away, they reveal they knew Mary had secretly been sending her comptroller Robert Rochester to the Imperial ambassador, stating "it is not unknown to us but some near about the Lady Mary have very lately in the night seasons had privy conferences with the Emperor's ambassador here." 5

They urge them to "use the best means you may in those parts under your charge to keep the people of the country in quiet and obedience, and to repress all manner of slanderous brutes of the King’s majestys death (from the which we doubt not, but God will long preserve His Majesty)." 6

Meanwhile...

The Privy Council send a secretary to the Imperial ambassadors, letting them know King Edward is unable to grant them an audience "as his indisposition [keeps] him most of the time in bed." 7

The Lord Mayor of London is summoned to court with aldermen and merchant adventurers, where the Council "secretly declared the death of king Edward, and also how he did ordain for the succession of the Crown by his letters patents, to the which they were sworn, and charged to keep it secret." 8

Sources:

1. Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae of Robert Wingfield

2. Ecclesiastical Memorials, John Strype

3. Spanish State Papers, 10th July 1553

4. Collection of State Papers relating to Affairs In the Reigns of King Henry VIII, King Edward VI, Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth From the year 1542 to 1570

5. Collection of State Papers relating to Affairs In the Reigns of King Henry VIII, King Edward VI, Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth From the year 1542 to 1570

6. Collection of State Papers relating to Affairs In the Reigns of King Henry VIII, King Edward VI, Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth From the year 1542 to 1570

7. Spanish State Papers, 10th July 1553

8. Chronicle of Queen Jane and Queen Mary

[timemachine16606]

Fuel Leak Snowball...

Firstly apologies for it being almost 38 months since my last post. Nothing happened with 16606 for the majority of that time, what with the pandemic, and then as lockdowns started to lift we started a building project at home, so the D went for a little holiday to a storage facility on a farm in deepest Essex. I had her back in late August 2022, got it re-taxed and MOT'd with only a few outings around the block until very recently.

Trust the D to ruin a lovely day

It was a lovely sunny Sunday on 30th September when I decided to take 16606 for a short spin following some in and out TLC. After parking up on the drive something drew me to look under the car where I found a liquid dripping from the mid section of the car.

Upon closer inspection is stank of fuel.

Side-note: Readers of this blog will know I've been on a learning journey with this car and as each issue arises I try to learn what needs to be done and then dive in, admit defeat and speak nicely to members of the DeLorean Eurotec club for assistance (who are always beyond fantastic and generous with their time), or go down the professional garage route (this is the last resort, not because I don't want to pay professional prices but because they tend to have never encountered a DeLorean, let alone a car of some 40 years old, and are actually not often able to do a "professional" job).

After taking advice from members of the DeLorean Eurotec club I tentatively started the engine and drove the D back into the garage in the knowledge that I should check the fuel pump. This filled me with dread since this was an area of the car I had no previous experience of and the thought of messing with the pump, fuel tank and fuel in general required me to pluck up courage and just go for it.

The following documents the journey I went on that comprised getting the job done over two attempts and almost giving in and asking a new business created by a club member to do the job in-between.

I got the car back into the garage and emptied my mandatory travel tools and parts out in order to access the fuel tank.

Inside the "Frunk" of the DeLorean, under the mat is this sunken area where the original spare tyre resides. I took this out, the first time I'd touched it since getting the car back following restoration in 2016. Once set aside I undid the screws to the access panel as seen above. This would expose the fuel tank and associated hoses and equipment.

For reference the photo above shows, beneath the access panel, the fuel feed and return hoses coming from the fuel pump seal that covers the pump boot (that houses the pump). The boot is set into the tank, the black area beneath and surrounding the boot. On the left the fuel hoses attach to the pipes that flow eventually to the engine at the rear of the car.

With the access panel removed I could smell the over-powering odour of fuel (and odour but one of those strangely nice ones...). Mild panic set in when I saw the remnants of spilt fuel. I could see that the boot seal was a strange shape and not clamped down by the jubilee clip. I lifted the accessible part of the seal and could see the pump covered in fuel residue. Wondering how this had happened, and how it had apparently seeped over and out onto the top of the fuel tank, I decided to start the car to get the pump working. The following video is what I was confronted with.

The shakiness of the above video gives some idea of the "holy crap" moment I was experiencing. At this same time I had also noticed that the fuel feed and return lines were also deteriorating, showing signs of cracking all along the outside.

I had to figure out what to do next, so after switching the engine off, the fuel in the boot drained back into the tank and I stepped away from the offending car and did some research and messaging with the DeLorean Eurotec club over the course of the next week.

I watched some videos on YouTube to learn how the fuel pump assembly works and fits together so I could become familiar with this journey into the unknown. I specifically got benefit from the following two,

The first part of this video showing the extraction of the pump and it's assembly:

The following for learning how the fuel feed and return hoses attach.

I realised I needed to buy some parts so got on to DeLoreanGo.com and ordered,

SKU 106979 Fuel Hose - return and feed line

SKU 101391PU Polyurethane Fuel Pump Boot

SKU 106684PU Polyurethane Fuel Pump Cover Seal

SKU SP10830 W1 Steel Spring Clip for Fuel Pump Boot

SKU SP10356 Stainless Hose Clamp (lower fuel pump boot)

SKU 10349 Stainless Hose Clamp

Needless to say the turnaround at DeLoreanGo.com was amazingly fast and they arrived in a couple of days.

Next weekend

On 8th October I rolled the car out of the garage to start work. I was going to

Replace the feed and return fuel lines

Replace the fuel pump boot

Fit the W1 steel spring clip that was missing

Replace the fuel pump boot cover seal

I made sure I had noted what goes where. I took the following photos to remind me which hose was the feed and the return, and which colour electrical connects went to positive and negative terminals

The feed is the hose from the banjo to right of the two fuel pipes, and the return runs from the left.

The black wire is the negative whilst the red is the positive.

Whilst the boot was in situ, the pump was surprisingly moveable which I'm not sure it should have been. This made it difficult to pull the fuel hoses off and could have been a possible reason for why the boot was filling with fuel.

I undid the hose clamps to the fuel hoses and with plenty of tissue at the ready, in case of spills, I manipulated them until free at both ends.

So far so good. Next it was time to fit the new hoses, boot and seal and to reconnect the wires to the terminals. Easier said than done!

These were the parts purchased from DeLoreanGo.com. I had already transferred the return hose and support ring to the new boot.

Whilst removing the old hoses and attaching the new ones required a lot of manipulation and strength, I found this task to be less troublesome than the YouTube videos had implied.

The first connections were made to the pipes. It was as I was getting ready to attach them to the pump that I spotted how cracked the fuel pick up hose was.

No sooner had I noticed the state of this pick up hose, then as I picked it up to start attaching the fuel hoses it completely disintegrated and broke off.

With an almost full tank of fuel I had to find a cord to tie and secure the pick up hose to stop it falling back in.

It was clear that I would then need to get the pick up hose replaced, but that then also meant dealing with the baffle and associated parts, plus I had a virtually full tank of fuel. I realised this was as far as I was going to get for the day, and that I should pack away and spend some time thinking about how to tackle the new problem. I couldn't push the car back in to the garage due to the slope of my driveway, so I took a Stanley Knife to the pick up hose to make the end level and then reattached it to the pump. I then attempted to reconnect everything else to enable me to drive the car back in to the garage.

When trying to reconnect the wires to the terminals I could not get the rubber boots back over the connectors, they had turned from malleable to solid rubber with no give. This concerned me greatly since I was unsure what the consequence might be if fuel filled the boot once more when moving the car and these terminals were flooded. I took more advice from the Eurotec club and watched some more YouTube that some cars didn't even have rubber boots and also experienced similar flooding to me. So I risked it. Fortunately nothing happened and I was able to drive the car back into the garage.

Over the next day or two I searched more videos on YouTube and found the following one particularly useful to explain to me what it takes to replace the fuel pick up hose. It's a great tutorial.

Watching this also made me realise that my pump/tank had no return hose to return fuel back to the baffle area as well as no Baffle Seal. After watching I also felt confident that this was a job I could do if it were not for the almost full tank of fuel. My ability to do this job flip-flopped over the course of the next week. What was clear to me however was that I would not have this fixed before the following weekend, which was the DeLorean Eurotec October Meeting, 100 miles north in King's Lynn, Norfolk.

Having replayed the above video a few times I then generated a list of the parts I would need. I ordered the following from DeLoreanGo.com,

SKU 106287 Fuel Pickup Hose

SKU 106287A Stainless Fuel Pickup Hose Reinforcement Spring

SKU 106318 Pickup Pipe Baffle Seal

SKU 106286 Viton Lower Return Fuel Hose

SKU SP10573 Stainless Hose Clamp (fuel return pipe)

SKU SP110085 Fuel Pump Terminal Connectors

In true DeLoreanGo.com form these parts then arrived less than 24 hours after ordering with just the regular free shipping option selected.

DeLorean Eurotec October Meet Weekend

That next weekend I attended the Eurotec meet and garnered opinions about how to tackle the fuel pick up hose job. Opinions ranged from "dive in despite the full tank of fuel, it'll be fiddly, messy and your arms might sting somewhat" to "you must drain the tank before starting, then it will be fiddly". I also learnt that weekend how it seemed many owners were also experiencing fuel pump related issues. This is when I came to learn of one owner who had set up his own business for working on DeLorean's. I tentatively arranged for him to come and do mine next time he was in the area, which would have been a few weeks later, however during the journey home I changed my mind.

Close to home I decided to stop to charge my daily driver at Tesla Tottenham. Whilst charging I grabbed myself a tea and biscuits at the showroom. I sat in the lounge and started googling options for pumping out fuel from tanks. It was then I found the following product from Euro Car Parts, and fortuitously there was a branch, open across the road.

I was a little unsure at first but the reviews convinced me, and at £8.99, it wouldn't be a huge loss if it turned out not to be appropriate.

I purchased said pump and over the course of the next week I managed to find sufficient fuel cans/containers for up to 50 litres.

The Weekend after that

Okay, so it's now this recent weekend, the kids are away at Scout camp, it's peaceful at home so now is the time to do this!

I decided to leave the car in the garage this time due to constant rain so there wouldn't be much room around the side of the car to work.

After preparing the area I proceeded to pump the fuel out from the tank. This turned out to be amazingly simple with the new pump, so much so that I almost forgot to film the process. The following shows almost the final fuel being pumped out. The pump can do about 22 litres per minute, which I reckon we achieved, however the clip below is a little slower as the final fuel is trickier to pick up, but it did the job.

In the end I calculated I had taken approximately 46 litres of fuel out of the tank.

Following the pumping out I had a peek into the tank with my phone camera.

Whilst getting ready for pumping out the fuel I of course had to remove the boot and pump. When doing this I could see that the current pick up hose had in fact disintegrated further, unattached to the pump, lying in the tank. I felt relief that I had not attempted to drive up to the previous weekends' DeLorean Eurotec meeting, since once the fuel level would have dropped below the bottom of the pump, it would not have been able to draw any more fuel and I would have been stranded.

The following piece of pick up hose is all that was left attached to the pump, surrounded by the hose clamp.

I also removed the electrical connections from the pump terminals which I would later trim to attach new connectors and boots. Those boots were rock solid!

I set the pump and boot assembly to one side and then began tackling removal of the baffle in order to fit the new pick up hose, seal and return line.

The only minor issue I faced in removing the baffle was removing the Fuel Tank Baffle Outer Retainer Spring, DGo SKU 108683. The YouTube video showed it being attached over the top of the baffle to the sides, however as can just be seen in the picture below, mine was attached through the perforations of the lower baffle assembly, which was very tricky to dislodge.

Once the baffle was removed the stud that the baffle and retaining springs attach to can be seen (near the fuel sender casing)

With all the components out of the tank I could take a closer look. Below you can see the failed fuel pick up hose complete with filter, the baffle with signs of disintegrated rubber settled on it, and the retaining springs.

I then reassembled the baffle with the new parts outside of the tank to ensure I knew how it all went together for when I would do it effectively blind inside.

As mentioned in the YouTube video I found I didn't have the clip to attached the end of the return hose to, so I used a tie to affix it to the baffle.

Since I couldn't make a video of me rummaging around inside the tank to fit all the components of the baffle assembly together, the photo below is a fast forward to the finished job.

Following the instructions in the YouTube video my only variation was that I did it from a standing position from the front passenger side wing, leaning over with just one hand in the tank. I expected to be really frustrated with this step but I think I got lucky. Everything slotted together nicely and the only minor difficulty encountered was attaching the nut on top of the washer and retainer springs to lock down the baffle. I found the arm of the baffle had an arch in it so I found a metal rod to push down on it, between the springs. Once flat the nut went on easily.

Relieved at the in-tank baffle success I now needed to replace the boots and connectors to the pump wiring.

Below shows the current state of the wires. The picture doesn't relay how solid the boots had become. These can't be replaced without removing the connectors, but even by my standards this is an simple job.

Below you can see the replaced wires with the new boots and connectors.

Now for re-connecting the fuel pump assembly and fitting it back into the tank.

Lessons learnt from my first attempt a couple of weeks back is that the positioning of the pump in the boot relative to the electrical connections, the fuel feed and return hose barbs, and the eventual placement in the tank so that hoses do not hinder the re-fastening of the compartment cover panel is very important. It would be a real pain to have to undo it all if you cannot fit the panel after all the hard work. Believe me I found out the hard way!

I'm not saying the following is the "correct" positioning, but it's what worked for me.

I think the indentations in the pump casing on opposite sides is designed to allow the return pipe to sit nicely in between, however I could not get the hoses to fit sufficiently such that the boot seal then can close nicely over the boot. So the above photo shows how I ended up positioning the pump and return pipe.

Below you can see a side on view that also shows the position of the return pick outside of the boot.

I then attached the pick up hose to the pump and the return hose to the pipe.

I inserted the boot into the tank and attached the electrical connections and the feed and return hoses.

I then completed this part of the job by sliding down the seal and after the below photo was taken, tightened the hose clamp.

As per the lesson learned, mentioned just above, I had to slightly twist the boot clockwise a little to position the hoses more pointing backwards so the compartment cover could be screwed back in.

Before closing the compartment I wanted to check to see if my low fuel indicator light worked. By my reckoning, with no fuel in the tank I should be able to turn ignition to position two and see the light illuminated in the binnacle.

Either my theory was wrong or my low fuel light wasn't working, as I had long suspected. I next put back a couple of litres of fuel and tried again also fully starting the car, no luck, then added up to five litres, repeated, and still nothing.

Finally I pumped all fuel back in to the tank.

and after starting the car for a final check, replaced the compartment cover.

Job done! Hopefully...

Upcoming jobs that I'll aim to document soon include fitting a fan override switch, and fitting new circuit breaker holder clips.

Stay tuned!

[olafsings]

Music History Today: January 13, 2023

January 13, 1979: American soul and gospel singer-songwriter Donny Hathaway took his own life at 33. In 1971, he recorded a cover of Carole King's "You've Got a Friend" with Roberta Flack. A significant hit, it sparked an entire album of duets. The soft, romantic ballad "Where Is the Love?" topped the R&B charts and won a Grammy. His mood swings broke his partnership with Flack in 1973.

In 1977, Hathaway patched things up with Flack and recorded another duet, "The Closer I Get to You." Sessions for a second album of duets were underway when Hathaway was found dead on the sidewalk below the 15th-floor window of his room in New York's Essex House. The glass had been neatly removed from the window, and there were no signs of struggle, leading investigators to rule Hathaway's death as a suicide.

[elite-clearance]

Shop / Retail - Clearance & Removal available

[liftmaintenance]

We offer maintenance, dedicated care and support on lifts and escalators throughout various business sectors, including commercial, corporate, hospitality, industrial, public, real estate, residential and retail.

[my-best-friends-ghoulfriend]

The “Witch House” in Salem, Massachusetts, around 1856 and 2019. The house was built around the 1660s or 1670s, and it is among the oldest surviving buildings in Massachusetts. It is also the one of the last remaining building in the city with direct ties to the Salem Witch Trials, having been the home of Judge Jonathan Corwin.

By the time the top photo was taken, the house had undergone changes, including renovations around 1746 that removed the gables and added a gambrel roof. The house later saw further alterations, including the addition of a storefront in the late 19th century.

In 1945, the house was restored to its original 17th century appearance, as shown in the bottom photo. It is now a museum, and is open to the public for tours.

Historic image courtesy of the Peabody Essex Museum.

[nicsnort]

Trial by Fire (part 84)

A Nightcrawler/Fem!OC romance, drama, and mystery fanfic, with lots of Quicksilver thrown in for fun and even more drama.

Intro (with link to full Ao3 story) First Previous

Since she and Kurt had gone back to her house and fetched her laptop Bedelia had been itching to work. She had compiled all her data on Essex, going through the mountains of evidence the X-men and Brotherhood had rescued from Essex bases. When this story launched it had to be perfect. And that time was quickly approaching.

Ever since accepting her appearance, Bedelia had been doing better in controlling her powers. She could now spend several hours without the collar - well the collar turned off. Beast had modified it to engage if her skin temperature reached more than 120 degrees. So while the collar still sat around her neck it was currently not active. Today, Beast was going to perform the surgery to remove the red gem. But today Bedelia had something else on her mind as well. It was time to discuss with Xavier and - regretfully - Magneto about returning her to society.

It had been well over a month since she was kidnapped by Essex, over two weeks since she was rescued, it was high time that Bedelia made her return. But she was sure that both men had their opinions on how to do so and what happened to her afterward. Bedelia still held out a bit of hope that Magneto wouldn’t force her to “work for” the Brotherhood. She was a mutant now, no longer “threatening” as a human, one of them.

The hall was clearing out. Finishing her coffee she looked at Kurt and smiled. They were alone except for Rogue and Toad at the other end of the table. “Kurt, I know this is something we have been putting off talking about but...I need to go back to my life. I can’t stay missing much longer.”

When Bedelia smiled at him, Kurt felt his heart melt a bit. This beautiful, smart, driven, strong woman was his girlfriend. They were together. So when she started to talk and he heard ‘putting off talking about’, for a moment, his stomach dropped -- but oh, no, it wasn’t a breakup. But any sense of relief he felt was washed out by the tension in his body replacing that joy. Back to her life? Back to…? 

“I...but the dangers…” And, well, he rather enjoyed living with her like this. But her safety took over any bit of his feelings. “I suppose I could stay near you, make sure no one tries anything.” And it was difficult to tell if ‘no one’ meant Essex’s followers, the political adversaries...or the Brotherhood. 

“Of course rishide,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “I’m going to have even more attention on me than I did before. I would appreciate someone looking out for me and I can’t think of anyone better.”

Bedelia kissed Kurt softly and heard Toad gag from further down the table. “Let’s find Xavier. I’d rather talk to him first about getting back out there rather than the Brother--”

It would be just her luck that there was a rush of wind as Pietro stopped behind their chairs. Her smile tensed at the arrival of the Brotherhood member before she looked at him. “Good morning, Pietro.”

The breeze that signaled one of his least favorite persons, Kurt felt irritated -- the warmth of the kiss dampened from the mutant’s very existence. “Quicksilver,” Kurt murmured, glaring up at him. 

Pietro wasn’t looking at Kurt, he had eyes only for Bedelia. Ever since speaking with her by the pond, his affection had only grown for her. No longer confined by the mistake of her being a human. “Morning.” He greeted her back. “Couldn’t help but overhear you mentioning getting out there again. You going all natural?” 

Kurt scowled. Bedelia internally sighed. Of course, Pietro had overheard her comments to Kurt. Or else Toad had sent a mental communication to Emma. Though Bedelia was unsure if that particular Brotherhood member was currently at the school. While Bedelia knew she should help keep the temporary peace between the two factions, a big part of her just wanted to tell Pietro to piss off...especially with that question.

“That depends,” she answered him with a small smile. “I believe an image inducer like Kurt’s would be for the best. Me suddenly being a mutant with such visible mutations might cause some trust issues since I had declared my humanity previously…But yes, I am tired of sitting around. More evidence isn’t going to help my story out at this point. I have more than enough. Once this gem is out of my forehead I think it is time for me to return to society.”

“Yeah?” Pietro rested his forearm against the chair next to her. “Figured you’d be preaching for her to embrace her beauty, Fuzzy.” 

Kurt felt his jaw tense and his fists clench. He tried not to get baited further though. “I think easing the truth to the public is for the best. We can ask the Professor for it.” He was determined now to get it for Bedelia out of spite to Pietro. What did he think he had a right to comment on whether Bedelia showed herself naturally or not? 

“Hm, guess so. Anyway, the quicker we discuss this with the Head Honchos, the better -- getting tired of this school.” Pietro shrugged.

“Yes, I was hoping to discuss this with them today.”

“I’ll go tell Magneto. I expect he’ll call to see you soon, Bedelia.” He gave her one more look before zipping away.

Kurt shook his head. “I can tell the Professor to talk to us with Magneto.” Because he didn’t trust that man for a second not to take advantage of a moment alone with the journalist. 

Yet before he could think to teleport away or share a thought through their link, Quicksilver returned. “He said he’ll see you outside now.” 

She was about to agree with Kurt and ask him to get the Professor when Pietro returned. God, the man was too fast for comfortability. Bedelia clearly remembered how she savored but also dreaded every second without him when he held her hostage. That level of stress was something she never wanted to experience again. Second only to speaking with Magneto alone...Pietro being nearby didn’t count.

“Right, well, Magneto can wait until Xavier arrives as well,” Bedelia told Pietro. She stood and smiled at Kurt. “Could you get him, please? I’ll wait out in the foyer.”

The couple minutes or so that Kurt would be gone would give Bedelia a moment to collect herself...and in a way gave her a moment to gauge Pietro. The man was emotional and it had been easy for Bedelia to get a read on him while they were together. Regarding Magneto she wanted Pietro on her side. He might not stand up to his father and leader in the moment of confrontation, but she knew she needed an advocate of some sort for when she wasn’t in the room. Pietro was her best bet for that.

Kurt glanced at Pietro, clearly unhappy that he’d have to leave Bedelia alone with him. Still, it was something that would come up a few more times in the near future...much to Kurt’s displeasure. Better to let her have it the first time on grounds that were more of her favor than neutral. 

Pietro rolled his eyes at Kurt’s glance before he teleported away. He waved his hand to clear the smoke. “Ugh…So you’re really ok with returning to the cameras to defend your story?”

Bedelia walked towards the foyer the moment Kurt left. She was setting the pace going forward. Maintaining what control she could was key in what was to come. As she walked Bedelia considered Pietro’s question. Was she okay with it? Yes. Was she ready? Well, that remained to be seen.

“The truth must be defended,” she told him. “I am not comfortable with the idea of being the story but I know I will be when I return. I want to use the focus that will be on me to bring forward the story on Essex. I’ve been considering that a data dump would be beneficial. Once I publish the first story, releasing the data online for other reporters to go through. I can still make my reports but the information would be available for others to start following the trail as well.”

It was something she mentioned to Beast and Xavier yesterday. With something as complicated as this, more eyes would be better. “Keeping the cure and other formulas out of the dump of course. There is no need for that information to be widely spread.”

There was the added benefit as well that loved ones of those kidnapped and lost might be able to find some closure. It had crossed Bedelia’s mind that a non-profit organization might need to take up that charge. Helping the victims of Essek and their friends and families was something beyond her and the mutants at hand.

“There are other ways the truth can be defended.” Pietro pointed out. He followed her with ease though his legs were aching to move quicker and he soon took the lead. There was without doubt a sense of power the woman had beyond the actual powers. There was protection she got from being here, sure, but now she seemed to have pull and she would have it with Magneto. Not enough to string him along, but certainly something more than a request for a glass of water. 

Bedelia had not meant to keep walking. She had intended to wait in the foyer like she told Kurt. Yet perhaps it was the conversation or a remnant of when she had to follow Pietro around that compelled Bedelia to walk out the side door when he opened it for her. She was nearly to the gardens, Magneto’s back registering in her mind when she realized what she had done. 

“I’ll give you a tip,” he said as he spotted Magneto in the near distance, “don’t ask for the stars and the moon right away. Be realistic.” Meaning, don’t ask to be free of the Brotherhood - his father wouldn’t have it.

Pietro’s words caught her attention causing her lips to thin. He was right and she understood what he meant but it didn’t make it any easier. “So, I’ll ask for the sun,” Bedelia replied with a small smile. It was as much of a joke as she could make at the moment.

When Magneto saw Bedelia and his son, the former so significantly different, he nodded. “Good morning, Ms. Hayes.”

Bedelia noticed that Magento was wearing his helmet. At least she didn’t have Frost prying around inside her head and telling him what she thought this time. Though she was aware that this was more likely a defense against Xavier. His greeting sent an automatic chill through her but at least he was calling her by her name...she wasn’t just the ‘journalist’ anymore. It was an improvement albeit a slight one.

“Morning, Magneto,” she greeted with a neutral tone. A good morning at this point it was not. This was the first time she was seeing him up close since the talk in the park...and the first in good lighting. His age now was obvious. He must have been in his late 50s or early 60s, a bit older than Xavier. His eyes spoke though beyond those years. In this light his relationship to Pietro and Wanda was obvious. “I admit I am surprised you were ready to meet so quickly.”

She was trying to delay meaningful talk until Xavier arrived. Magneto’s eyes were examining her as well. The modified Genoshan collar that was a failsafe if she burst into flames again felt heavy around her neck.

Magneto gave a shark’s smile. “The early bird as they say,” he said nonchalantly. “I take it that you wanted to discuss the future living arrangements? You did not enjoy being tethered to our place, I cannot imagine you would enjoy this school..even if Nightcrawler is here.” 

Oh, yes, he had to hear an earful about the new couple from Pietro. It started with the ‘I can’t believe that happened’ to 'I can’t believe that happened’, to the point where Magneto wondered if he should speak to his son about it in private. But given that the journalist was no longer human, it wasn’t that embarrassing. If Pietro’s persistent affections could win the journalist over, all the better.

“I do not enjoy being restricted in my job,” Bedelia told him, lifting her chin slightly. “Nor being under constant observation while doing it.”

Bedelia let that sit for half a moment before continuing. “My reason for wanting to speak with you and Xavier today is to discuss the future, yes. My return to society and how to break the Essex article. Just like the original Genosha article, there is one chance at breaking the story and it has to be done correctly.”

Magneto couldn’t help but smile a bit. Oh no, of course not. “Which is why you’ve been a freelancer.” He remarked, agreeing. No, she wasn’t the type to be tied down...which made him wonder if Nightcrawler understood that. But that would be a tidbit for his son to mull over. “Given how successful your first story was, I am inclined to agree. This one must be done just as well. And how do you propose that happens, Ms. Hayes?”

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