#latest job circular

[jobresulttoday]

চাকরির খবর: আপনারা যারা চাকরির প্রস্তুতি নিচ্ছেন। তারা হয়তবা ভালো করে জানবেন যে প্রতি শুক্রবারে ”সাপ্তাহিক চাকরির খবর পত্রিকা” প্রকাশিত হয়। Read More…

[kkami-writes]

hybrid hearts ━ chapter one. cw. the briefest mention of blood wc. 2k

Time had always felt too slow, yet impossibly fast at the same time to you. Some days had felt like they would drag on endlessly with you feeling bored out of your mind, wondering if this was how life was gonna feel like forever. While some days you would blink and then suddenly the day was over. Sometimes even weeks would pass like this as well. That feeling that your life was passing you by, feeling like you had nothing to show for it was overwhelming at times.

But you supposed it wasn’t all that terrible though. You had a job you loved, having opened up a book cafe after your parents had passed. You had inherited a rather large sum of money from them, as well as their old house they owned in a nearby cozy suburb. However, it had only served to make you feel much lonelier what with all these empty rooms for little old you.

Weeks turned into months and the seasons changed from winter to spring. But your daily routine didn’t change much at all. Although you didn’t necessarily hate it, sometimes it just felt so repetitive that you thought you might lose your mind.

Everyone around you seemed to change, constantly adapting to the flow of time. Yet you found yourself utterly the same and all alone. Though that last part might have been partially your fault, you’ve never really tried to branch out from the cozy bubble you lived in. It was a constant cycle of feeling lonely, yet feeling too attached to your quiet lifestyle to put yourself out there.

It’s early evening on a Saturday when that changes.

You’re sat on the small swinging couch that's connected to your porch, happily curled up with a book and some tea. You were constantly trying to read all sorts of genres, needing to keep up with the latest books so you could have the cafe well stocked. However you found it hard to concentrate when the neighborhood kids were kicking up a ruckus nearby. Their high pitched screams hurting your eardrums.

When you look up to glare at them, it’s then you realize that they’re surrounding one of your trash cans, kicking it around and laughing. You’re quick to get up, abandoning your book as you storm over to them.

“Hey!” Your voice is loud and demanding and it effectively startles the kids. That’s all it takes for them to scatter, running in all different directions. You roll your eyes, not bothering to run after the annoying brats but you are rather curious as to why they had been kicking at your trash in the first place.

Glancing into the bin you find an entirely white ferret sans the small singular black dot under its left eye. The animal is on its hind legs, jumping up and trying desperately to get out of the circular death trap. The trash is only half full and it’s not enough for the ferret to be able to crawl out.

“Hey little guy, you must have been scared from all that kicking” At your voice the ferret startles, falling backwards before squirming back onto its legs. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat at its dramatic reaction. “Are you ok? Were you trying to look for food?” You question even though you know it’s not gonna respond.

In the last fifty or so years, hybrids have been woven into modern society after their discovery — though not everyone had treated them fairly. Most people see them as pets, things to own or even worse, sex slaves. Many laws for hybrids have been put in place in an attempt to better protect them, but they were still pretty restrictive. In most cases, people can’t tell a normal animal to a hybrid in it’s domesticated form, so you couldn’t be 100% sure if this ferret in your trash was a hybrid or not.

You had a good feeling though.

The animal glanced at you like it was sizing you up, eyes squinting and head tilting. If the animal was indeed a hybrid, it was most likely a stray. Hybrid law dictates that anyone under 21 required an “owner” or a “guardian” to be in charge of them. In the end, this actually left a lot of strays on the street from terrible people who would abandon their hybrids for various reasons. None could ever be good enough in your eyes to just throw an innocent life onto the streets. At 21 though, a hybrid could declare itself independent and gain the rights to live on their own. Actually finding a place to live was an entirely different problem on it’s own. Many landlords would implemented a no independent hybrids rule and even places of employment didn’t hire hybrids at all or would give them less pay compared to an “actual” human.

People were cruel to things they didn’t understand, so quick to dehumanize someone who might be a little different.

“Are you stuck? Do you want some help?” you call out again softly, slowly extending your hand out to the animal hoping to show it that you meant no harm. The ferret doesn’t take it that way however, it’s teeth sinking into your index finger the moment it gets close enough. You wince at the sharp teeth piercing your flesh, sucking a breath between your teeth at the pain. Still, you don’t shake or make anymore sudden movements.

“S-see? Not so scary right?” The smile you give is slightly strained and the ferret lets out a soft whine. Slowly, it lets go of your finger, backing away with its head down as if ashamed. When you pull your hand back you can see some blood dripping down from the small indentations. “Oof, you’ve got some teeth on you huh?”

“Here, I'll put the trash down ok? So you can crawl out if you want. I’m gonna go address my wound and I'll even leave my door open if you’d like to come in. No pressure but I do have some food if you’d like,” Your smile remains kind as you glance down at the white animal before slowly moving the trash down to its side so it can crawl out.

You turn to walk back towards the house, taking a quick glance behind you to see if maybe the ferret was also following. You try to ignore the disappointment that fills your chest when it doesn’t.

In the kitchen you thoroughly rinse off the wound, waiting for the bleeding to stop before applying some ointment and a bandaid. You won’t lie, it throbs a little but you try to pay it no mind. You remember you’ve left your book outside so you go to retrieve it until you feel something nudging at your foot.

Looking down, you see the pretty little ferret by your feet and a smile immediately graces your lips. In the bright light of your kitchen you can see that its fur is slightly dirty, probably a result from being a stray for quite a while and you briefly wonder how long it’s been in your trash.

“Hi there, are you hungry?” The ferret makes a squeak like sound that manages to makes you smile even brighter at how cute it sounds. You move to open the fridge, glancing around for stuff you have. You’re 100% sure now that that small ferret is in fact a hyrbid, with how it’s been understanding your words and it’s behavior.

You don’t have much in your fridge currently, making a mental note to go grocery shopping some time soon. So you make due with some measly shredded chicken, placing it on a plate before offering it to the ferret. The speed in which the small thing practically scarfs it down is impressive.

“Careful, don’t choke,” you laugh, this time really leaving to grab your book and tea from the porch. When you come back the ferret is at the door waiting for you as if unsure if it should leave or not now that you’ve fed it.

“Do you maybe wanna take a shower? I’m sure you could use one,” the same squeaky noise emits from its tiny mouth and you let out a small laugh. That sound is going to be etched in your memories forever. “ok, sounds good. let me show you,”

So you guide the tiny ferret to your bathroom, showing it where everything is. “I’ll also leave some clothes on the bed if you choose to transform. Oh— but I don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl…well, most of my stuff is gender neutral anyway. Don’t feel pressured though,” With that you leave the ferret to its business. You lay a simple shirt and a baggy pair of sweatpants you hoped would fit whether the ferret ended up being a girl or a boy.

You can hear the shower running and you take that as your cue to leave, exiting your bedroom and closing the door behind you to give them some proper privacy. Glancing at the time you noticed it was getting a little late. Your daily sleep schedule had consisted of trying to be in bed by ten, just yet another boring part of your mundane routine. Though to be fair, owning a coffee shop had required you to open rather early, even if you only had a handful of early morning regulars.

Glancing into your fridge once again, you scope out some ingredients before deciding on an easy kimchi stew, making quick work of the vegetables as you swayed along to a random playlist. In the middle of cooking you feel something crawling up your leg and when you look down, low and behold, it’s the little ferret. It climbs the rest of your body with ease before settling down on your shoulder, to watch you cook. You notice its coat is much whiter now and smells faintly of your vanilla body wash.

“Hi, enjoy your shower?” The ferret chitters back and you have to bite back a coo from the sound. It just chills on your shoulder, seemingly interested in watching you as you cook. “Don’t know if you’re still hungry so i’ll leave the leftovers in the fridge and you can have it whenever you want,” You say while pouring yourself a bowl of your stew. You add some rice before moving to sit at your kitchen table. The ferret runs down your arm and onto the table, curling itself into a little ball.

“If you’re tired you could always sleep. There are three spare rooms and you could pick one if you’d like. At least to just stay the night,” It lifts its head to look at you, blinking slowly before jumping off the table to explore the rest of the house. You eat in silence, something you were used to so you don’t completely mind that the ferret has left you alone. You could have wished that it had kept you some company though. Even though he wouldn’t talk.

The rest of the night goes as normal and you don’t see the ferret again until you’re finally crawling into bed. Once you’re tucked under the sheets the familiar gleam of white fur is climbing up into your bed. You blink at the animal and it blinks back.

“You want to sleep here? Are you sure?” It hops over to you and crawls under the sheets, burying itself into your warm blankets. You let out a small laugh, seeing the small bump taking residence in your bed. “Well, if you’re sure,” You really don’t mind, which is probably strange in itself - to let a strange hybrid into your home and now your bed. Still, if it had wanted to hurt you it would have the moment it came inside or even after you fed it. Maybe it was a little naive of you but you had always tried to believed in the good in everyone. Even if people didn’t do the same for you.

Or you were just incredibly lonely. Could be possible.

You don’t continue that train of thought and instead, bid the ferret goodnight, turning off the lights and falling into a deep sleep.

[freebooter4ever]

ok i've been taking a break for the past half hour and doing research on the pens locker room, trying to figure out how i wanted to design my own version of geno's 'stall' (is that what it's called?). i love the circular shape it feels very king arthur

first, there isn't a lot of internet documented history on the various eras of the locker room design??? which seems sad

don't get me wrong the latest iteration is pretty epic but as far is i can tell, it hasn't changed much since at least 2013? i do not envy whoever is cleaning this place. thats a lot of sweat over the years.

second, im enjoying seeing little details that i had no idea existed, being a new fan and all. like the puck wins count???? crazy. these guys have a visual representation of how they're doing in the season right up there on the wall glaring judgmentally at them? im so glad im not in sports. i would not survive.

especially when the HISTORY of these pucks is on the walls.....like damn. talk about pressure. anyway 2011-2012 thats one of geno's best seasons right? :)

this is what I wanted. mesh, hooks, I need to figure out how i want to make this look cool.

i find it really funny and endearing that the thing these guys do to relax in down time is a playful version of their own job....

also im not sure about this like:

are they assigned a razor??? you get traded to the penguins and suddenly you're not allowed to use your fancy expensive specialized razor? is this a normal thing in hockey????? do they have group shaves for special events like the playoffs? hockey players are fascinating.

i dont know why but i never considered that the pens have actual lockers in addition to the little seats in the main locker room. this makes total sense. i dont know where i thought their clothes and stuff went. just disappeared into the ether i guess.

anyway definitely a necessity, the hot tub. it looks a little sad and lonely in this photo. it needs a hockey player in it.

racks and racks of gear???? again this makes total sense but never occurred to me. also maybe helps explain why geno likes to switch up gloves, look at all them, damn. i do wonder about helmets still - geno's looks so unique and he's been using the same design since at least 2009.

ok im guessing this is an away locker room and i have only one question: do they bring a little 'logo' carpet to roll out every time they go on the road? thats amazing.

if you read all that, nice! here's a shot of geno with his jock out:

very important locker room research. bonus the earliest pens locker room photo of geno i could find:

shy beautiful boy ^_^ (also he looks so young and vulnerable its hard to believe that even back in 2008/2009 he already had so much responsibility with so many grown adults making demands on his entire career)(like he went through all that AND is still playing in the league with three cups under his belt? thats fucking awesome)

[thepenultimateword]

please write some fluff hero x hero as they’re trying to retire to get married and settle down 🙏🙏

tbh retirement age for hero’s must be like 30 at the latest. I don’t think they last long.

“Noooo,” Hero groaned, slapping their palms over their eyes

Other Hero paused in the middle of their dark decor, fanged mask in hand. “What?”

“You’re not hanging that in our living room!”

“How’s that any different?” Other Hero said, pointing at the candy blue cape hung on the other wall.

“It pops! Brings some warmth to the room. People like warmth not…” they made a circular wave at the dark mask, “reminders of their fading mortality.”

“Oh, right, that would be bad, we’ll just give them a headache instead.”

Hero stomped their feet together and folded their arms. “You liked it!”

“I liked it better on you.” They stepped up to their angry newlywed, tucking a piece of honied hair behind their ear. “Too big for you. So adorable and bright. It brought out your eyes.”

Their fingers trailed down their jaw.

Hero leaned in on tiptoe, noses just brushing, voice lowered to a whisper. “I don’t want the mask over the hearth.”

“Curse it!”

“But. To make it fair I’ll move the cape as well. Oh! Maybe let’s just have a show room! Dedicated to our mementos! A Hero and Other Hero collection. People would pay to see that!”

Other Hero shrugged. “They’ll forget about us soon enough.”

Hero's bright grin faded and their petite form wilted. Retirement wasn't as simple as they'd thought. It all made sense in their head; they wanted to live comfortably with Other Hero. So many times in their career they'd thought it would never happen. That one of them would meet an untimely end before they made this far. The last month had been torture. They'd probably called Other Hero's mission comm over a hundred times, checking in on them. And no, they weren't so old, but their bodies couldn't take the strain of the job anymore. They deserved to take it easy. And yet. Was that it?

They'd dedicated their life to helping this city, time, relationships, their own well-being. And it was nothing more than a blip in history. Other Hero was right. New heroes would step up to replace them and soon no one would even remember the two of them or anything they'd done.

Strong arms wrapped around their waist, and Other Hero's chin rested in the crook of the shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Mm. Doesn't matter."

Other Hero traced the scars spattered over Hero's neck. "Yes, it does."

Hero turned around, sinking against their spouse's chest and reaching to cup their face in both hands. They roved the worn eyes, several-times-broken crooked nose, and the dark circles that still hadn't faded.

"More nightmares? You were tossing and turning last night."

"I guess I'm still getting used to not being on call."

Liar. That was one thing Hero wouldn't miss. They were going to spoil Other Hero rotten until all those inner scars faded away.

They looped their arms around Other Hero's neck. "Hey, remember when I used to sneak into your side of the agency?"

Other Hero snorted. "We got penalized at least a dozen times."

"Those dating rules were ridiculous. No relationships between departments?"

"To be fair, you were a TV hero," Other Hero said, rubbing circles into Hero's back. "You needed to be preserved. My training was to put the job above my life. They didn't want me getting attachments."

Another thing they wouldn't miss.

"I loved you from the moment I saw you." Hero grinned. "They didn't stand a chance."

The next thing they knew they were off the ground and in Other Hero's arm. "Everything is going to be ok," they murmured. "Yeah?"

Hero nodded, basking in the quiet warmth and the weight of their arms. After several moments, they said, "Should we start unpacking the kitchen? I'll make brownies. And this time we won't have to run out the door before they're done."

Other Hero kissed their forehead. "Sounds perfect."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday

When is the last time Nerdie did one of these? Technically Sunday, but that was a few days ago, we got new old stuff! 🤗 Nerdie is in her fluff and fantasy era it seems. The water is cool but she's adjusting and could use a rum punch or mojito.

From chapter 6 of Weddings 101 with Dieter that is still in progress:

Hanri knocked on Oscar’s hotel room door, he’d done as his boss asked and felt horrible about it. He was dropping off his boss’ usual order of tequila and three bags of hot Cheetos that he likes to eat in the evening. He had been propositioned by Vanessa and happily agreed to get her in the hotel and a private meeting with Mr. Issac. After getting her in, he left her to it and headed back to his room with his money. Oscar heard the door and called for the young man to bring him his snack.

I have made Oscar Issac into a villain, I'm fine with it. I honestly think the real Oscar would find it hilarious because this 'evil' Oscar does as many random things as Dieter does. He'd have a ball and the blooper reel between the two of them would be insane. This Dieter fic is purely for my amusement. All my fics are, but I write this one when I need a hard laugh. 😂 It has it’s moments but is just ridiculous and I love that, just silly.

Second from part 4 of Our Journey Across the Star Ocean:

Your breastplate was purple, but your pauldrons, vambraces and leg armor were all silver like Din’s. Nodding after assisting you to put them on, The Armorer clapped. “You look ever more like a warrior, dear girl. Djarin should train you further in hand to hand combat, not just with your blaster. Tell him this, yes?” The small gold wrench was moved to the right instead of being on the left where it had been. A circular depression remained on the left side.

I just wanna be sweet with our Mandalorian okay? And also make him very anxious, I may need to do some introspection on that one. 🫡 I’ll also write smut eventually for him again. I just haven’t had the right motivation to do so and none of the words seem right. Bah 😑

Lastly is my untitled Pero x Dragon fic. I've had a few people beta it and I think the first chapter is good, working on the second. Maybe by then it will have a title? And Pero is...well Pero is fine but worse for wear?

The mercenary grinned and licked his bottom lip, “I would say you are the one with base instincts you reptile. Pinning a man like this when speaking of desires only leads to one outcome. Whatever great being you’re supposed to be and not aware of what human men think of when a woman has her legs open in front of him.” Was he really interested? Mildly, he hadn’t been to the brothel for a warm cunt since before this latest job. Pero was trying to unnerve her since she was acting ‘mightier than thou.’ He hated those types, looking down on everyone. She is literally looking down at him though. “You disgusting ingrate. You will not move me Pero.” Pressing the soles of her feet into his forearms, she squinted her eyes. “I am called Calista. You will show proper reverence to a dragon! Should count yourself blessed to even meet me, let alone be essence bonded with me.”

Did I not say that Pero would antagonize an angel, demons, monsters or gods? He would, laugh about it and find a way to kill it and earn more coin. He stays alive, is about his coins and friends, in that order. I figured I would try not only a fantasy fic, but also enemies to lovers? I haven't done that one too much or at least on Tumblr I think. Or maybe on A03 and in my WIPs but those are hidden deep. 🤣

Let me know what you all think. 🥰

NPT: @fhatbhabiee @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @inept-the-magnificent @secretelephanttattoo

@rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @grogusmum @djarinmuse @maggiemayhemnj

@trulybetty @lotusbxtch @604to647 @connectioneverywhere

[wandaluvstacos]

My latest sewing creation! I made a red riding hood outfit in 2022 and had a bunch of red flannel leftover, so I figured "oh I'll just make a nice simple bodice and attach it to this christmas tablecloth from the thrift store". anyway, 50 hours later... lol.

I'm actually pretty happy with it, and this'll be the first thing I've made for regular day wear (beyond the coat I also made). There are pretty much no winter dresses you can find that aren't either sweater dresses (which I hate; they make you look like a worm) or vintage. I'm sad I can't wear it now, because it's 95 degrees outside.

Some of the finer details:

The bodice is lined with some leftover lining fabric I had from the same red riding hood outfit

The pockets are finished with seam binding to prevent fraying. There's an extra strap and hook on the waist to prevent strain on the buttons.

The cuffs are lined and because I didn't want to have to buy anything, I used whatever I had around to make the button loops

Because it's a circular tablecloth, there were no side seams, so I added two welted pockets on each side. I can't really get my hand into them, but my phone fits at least, and they're very deep!

I used french seams wherever there wasn't lining, so I didn't have to do any overlocking or zig-zag stitches

Sadly, right around the time I was finishing this dress up, the stitch length dial on my beloved 1960s-era White machine fell off. I have my doubts it's fixable, but it's with a repair person for an indefinite amount of time right now and I'm real sad about it. My turqouise lady did a great job on this and she will be sorely missed. Thankfully all I had left over to do were the button holes and pockets, and I was gonna do the buttonholes on my modern Brother machine anyway.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Hilary Rose in the Times: Who is Charlie Gipson? Harry and Meghans new recruit by u/Von_und_zu_

Hilary Rose in the Times: Who is Charlie Gipson? Harry and Meghan’s new recruit Hearty congratulations to Charlie Gipson, the latest recruit to Team Sussex. Gipson has been charged with managing the public relations for Harry and Meghan in the UK and Europe, a job that seems not so much a poisoned chalice as a poisoned puddle. According to reports, Gipson, 41, will work with their US PR team to explore the knotty problem of exactly how many employees it takes to make people love you.*\*Will Gipson be able to improve on the deathless prose of sussex.com? I read that, after a recent polo match in Florida, “The Duchess was among the many esteemed guests in attendance and presented the trophy to the winning team.” Esteemed guests? Presenting trophies? What is this, the Court Circular?*\*So many PR people, so little positive PR.She never disappoints.edit to fix linkhttps://archive.ph/Rhwq6​​ post link: https://ift.tt/YEPdjGB author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: April 24, 2024 at 07:18AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[george-the-good]

The Sunday Pictorial - May 18, 1947

By a Special Contributor to the ‘Sunday Pictorial’

The tumult and the shouting dies. But for the King there can be no relaxation. When the cheering crowds disperse and go home, he has a tedious exacting job to do at his desk.

Throughout Britain this week the talk has been of our King and Queen. When they left for South Africa they were envied their promise of sunshine and non-austerity food.

Then, day after day, we heard of them giving a reception here, auditions there... It was work, hard work.

And now they are back… to work again in surroundings so familiar that they lack the excitement and glamour of the young Dominion.

Passers-by, looking up at the Royal Standard floating above Buckingham Palace, know that the King is back in London and try to imagine what he is doing. But all that emerges from behind those grey stone walls is a dull, factual Court Circular, with its list of people received, Privy Councils held, and ladies and gentlemen in attendance.

Now let’s go through the tall, double glass doors of the Privy Purse, the ‘business’ entrance of the Palace, on your right as you face it from the Mall, and see how the King’s day is planned, how the head of the Empire does his work.

In general control of the King’s official activities is his private secretary, holder of an office that has grown in importance greatly during the past three reigns until today it is often referred to as that of the ‘Sovereign’s Personal Prime Minister.’

The present private secretary is sparsely built, quizzical Sir Alan Lascelles, who holds the office not because he is first cousin to the Earl of Harewood, the King’s brother-in-law, but because of his long record as a servant of the Crown. He was assistant private secretary to the Duke of Windsor when he was Prince of Wales, private secretary to the Governor-General of Canada, and assistant private secretary to George V, Edward VIII and George VI.

Always an early riser, Sir Alan walks over from his house at St. James’s - which he has rent free as part of his salary - just after nine, and is firmly seated at his desk, with a good idea of the news of the day, by nine-thirty. At any moment after that a bell may ring, and an old-fashioned card indicator on the wall falls, showing the words ‘The King.’

Then Sir Alan, known to the King and Queen and to everyone else at the palace as Tommy, ‘goes up’ to the King. Those words are literally as well as constitutionally true, for the King’s business room - he does not call it his study - is on the first floor.

With the King, Tommy will go through the latest dispatches and messages from our Ambassadors abroad, reports from Whitehall, minutes from various Government departments, ‘submissions’ from the Prime Minister and from the Premiers of the Dominions, each of whom has the right of direct approach to the King.

Tommy knows more of what is going on all over the Empire and the world than anyone else, except the King. That’s part of his job.

It is his task to advise the King on every kind of problem, from whether he should accept an invitation to open an agricultural show, to what he should say in a Christmas broadcast, or whether and how he should intervene in some major crisis in public affairs.

Under Sir Alan are two assistant private secretaries, who take on the routine work, fixing details of programmes for provincial visits by the King and Queen, arranging for audiences and so on.

Part of their task is to furnish a short ‘aide-memoire’ for the King about everyone whom he receives in audience. The King has a really remarkable memory for faces and names, but he cannot be expected to remember details of each man’s career, of the interests and attainments of everyone he meets.

Another of their responsibilities is to furnish rough outline material for the King’s speeches, material which the King himself will later review and arrange.

Altogether there are about forty-five active members of the Royal Household in daily attendance at the Palace, not counting another fifty or more extra equerries, ushers, chaplains and holders of political appointments to the Household. They are the men - and women - who comprise the Court of St. James’s, the wheels in the smooth-running machine of British monarchy.

Today the Palace is run not as a great gentleman’s house, with everything in profusion regardless of cost, and kindly but not over-efficient amateurs holding important jobs, but on strict business lines.

In any business house it is true that if the boss is slack or unpunctual, the rest of the staff are likely to fall off in efficiency. That is true at the Palace as well, and the ‘boss’ - the King - is as hard working, as early rising as anyone on his staff.

Seven-thirty is his normal hour for rising, and he has his simple breakfast alone - bacon is his favourite dish, but the ration does not always run to it. Immediately afterwards he walks into his ‘business room,’ unlocks the red-leather dispatch boxes which have been brought in by the Page of the Presence - an old and trusted Palace servant - and settles down to read.

His papers may include a secret report from a British ambassador on the state of war-preparedness in the country to which he is accredited, and a memorandum on the miners’ attitude to nationalisation of the coalfields, as well as half a dozen other important matters. All of these the King reads and digests.

Presently he rings for his secretary, and the long morning procession begins, to end before lunch with perhaps a new ambassador coming to present his ‘letters of credence’ or a new bishop to do homage on bended knee before the secular head of the Established Church, or an Empire statesman or an outgoing Governor-General to have audience and stay to lunch.

Almost every day the King and Queen lunch together, usually with Princess Elizabeth at table as well, and over lunch the family discuss their plans, arrange theatre parties or dances, talk over the coming week-end at Royal Lodge, and chat of the everyday familiar things that are part of any family’s life.

If there are important State guests at luncheon, the talk is naturally on a more serious plane, and Elizabeth, who meets as many of the important Palace visitors as possible, as part of her training, joins in the conversation.

After luncheon, the King likes to take a short stroll in the Palace gardens, sometimes with Elizabeth and her Corgi dog, sometimes alone. Then it is back to his desk till tea time.

Tea is another family gathering, after which, there is usually a final audience the King must give to the Prime Minister, the Foreign Secretary, or some other highly placed member of his Government.

Between then and dinner, the King sits at his desk tidying up the odds and ends left over during the day: for he is a man with a tidy mind, as befits a former naval officer, and he cannot bear leaving over things unfinished till the next day.

Often it is seven-thirty before he is finished - and that means that one or other of the secretaries, if not all three, is still on duty - and the royal dinner is served at eight.

There is just time to bath and dress - the King nearly always wears a dinner jacket and black tie - before he joins the Queen and the Princesses for what they all regard as the pleasantest part of the day.

In armchairs, the King and Queen and their daughters like to sit, the King reading a light book for relaxation, or looking at a sporting magazine, the Queen knitting or doing embroidery, and the Princesses reading or studying.

Even then, the King is not off duty. At any moment there may be a telephone call from Whitehall, a Government messenger may come to the Palace with urgent dispatches which the King must see at once.

Then the private line to Tommy’s house over at St. James’s comes into action, and if the matter is one of real gravity, the King’s secretary will leave his own home and rejoin his master for a conference that may go on till midnight.

For being the King-Emperor is a full-time job. He is, indeed, the servant of his own subjects and he is ready always to turn from his own recreations to the duty which is not of his own choice, but which he has accepted at all times with unflagging zeal.

[duckapus]

(5/11/24: edited because I was looking through stuff and realized at some point I'd forgotten to start from 0 when counting the MRUs)

"Emulation is stable. Trinity is online. Drive inserted. Ready to install on your command, sir."

"Proceed."

"Yes director. Uploading mod... now."

"...Upload is progressing smoothly. Time until Activation estimated at 3 minutes."

"Excellent. Hopefully there are no complications."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Great Sky Island

It's a beautiful morning here among the clouds. The Forest Ostriches graze. The Chu Chus slosh along between the trees in search of prey. The temple's bell chimes, prompting the Steward Constructs to resume their work. And far below, the people of Hyrule stir as well, preparing to go about their days.

None of them have any idea of the madness that is to come.

Far above even the highest Sky Island, a mysterious object appears, hurtling down like a meteorite. As it falls it becomes clear that its current path will bring it down directly on top of the Temple of Time.

Soon enough it arrives with a monumental CRASH, yet the Temple remains intact, with the object simply embedding itself into the flat roof. Said object appears to be a silver flash drive, monolithic in scale, with a strange circular symbol painted in orange on the front. A few moments later, a robotic voice calls out.

"Uploading the latest Spicy Memes."

A wave of blue energy pulses out from the drive, traveling across all of Hyrule in seconds, causing anyone it touches to behave strangely and leaving a variety of bizarre people and creatures in its wake. Not done, lighting arcs out from it, causing the temple itself to glow and then emit beams of light in seemingly random directions. Wherever these beams end, a portal is formed, each with a past version of Hyrule on the other side. One bolt of electricity from the drive happens to graze a nearby fairy, causing it to jitter in place and rapidly shift between various colors while spamming Navi voicelines.

Eventually the light show ends, and the drive's front opens to reveal a man with brown hair and eyes who looks otherwise identical to Link (pre-arm loss) wearing an orange version of the Hero of Time Armor Set.

"Hey, what is up every...body?" he looks around, realizing that he's completely alone, "Uh...anybody home?"

As if in answer, the out-of-control fairy careens into his face, still spouting random voicelines. He's initially freaked out, but quickly gets an idea and ducks back into the clearly-bigger-on-the-inside flash drive, coming back with a video camera and a laptop. Within a few minutes he's filmed the fairy and edited the resulting video into a Carameldansen Rave Meme, which he then uploads to the internet (the digital multiverse's internet. much like SMG8 the technological limitations of living in a medieval fantasy setting prevent him from uploading within his actual universe).

Soon after, a flash of light pulses out from the fairy, and their color settles on a deep blue despite the fact that all of the BotW/TotK fairies are supposed to be pale pink. Their flight has calmed down significantly, and they're not saying random voicelines anymore.

They are, however, still talking...sort of, "WwwOOw tHaAAAAaat zuuUc- IIiiII1!iizzzzthhhhaAat7tmeE33ee?"

"...da fuk."

"HhhOoOolLlLlDddDDiIiIiIiiiIIIIti11111igoO0oddafffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffiIigYYyyiuuuooouuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthIs outwaitokayisthisrightnotoo f a s t a l m ost got it! Okay, testing, testing, do you read me now?" She still sounds synthetic, but at least now she's coherent.

"...Yeah?" 'the fuck just happened?'

"Sweet. Now, my name's Loni. Who the hell are you and what did your weird-ass ship thing do to me?"

"Oh, I'm MRU1, a Meme Regulation Unit! It's my job to keep the universe stable by posting about all the memes my Command Pod uploaded and protecting... the..." He suddenly goes wide-eyed and runs off, "Oh shit I've gotta find my Anchor!"

Unfortunately, there's a certain problem with that, as he realizes when he reaches the edge of the roof, "Uh...that's a pretty long way down."

"Yep."

"...and it's even further to the actual not-flying ground."

"Sure looks like it."

"...is there like a ladder or..."

"LOL no. Sucks to be you dude."

"goddamnit"

[jobresulttoday]

বাংলাদেশী সরকারি চাকরি প্রার্থীদের জন্য ১৯ জানুয়ারী ২০২৪ তারিখে উপজেলা পরিষদ অফিসের চাকরির বিজ্ঞপ্তি ২০২৪প্রকাশিত হয়েছে। আবেদনের শেষ তারিখ ০১ ফেব্রুয়ারি ২০২৪। বিস্তারিত দেখুন..

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (August 3rd, 2023)

Maxis has just released a new patch for The Sims 4 fixing bugs found on its latest expansion pack, Horse Ranch.

If you have auto updates enabled in Origin’s “Application Settings”, the game will auto-update once you open Origin. If you have auto-updates disabled, you will need to manually update by clicking the game in your library.Advertisement

Your game should now read: PC: 1.99.305.1020 / Mac: 1.99.305.1220 / Console: Version 1.79.21

Howdy, Simmers! We hope you’re having yourself a rootin’ tootin’ good summer (or winter for our friends in the Southern Hemisphere)! The crew has been super excited for The Sims 4 Horse Ranch Expansion Pack finally to be out in the world and we have loved seeing y’all’s fantastic Horses and homesteads! One teammate was telling us about a young stallion she had growing up named Starbuck. He was feisty and seemed a bit wild to some folks. However defiant Starbuck seemed to be, though, our teammate shared a special bond with him that was unmatched (despite him being more than happy to take an apple from anybody!). We hope you create your own special bonds with your Horses in the game! We have a few ranch maintenance notes to share, so kick up your boots and settle in. –     SimGuruJoAnna

Bug Fixes

Base Game

The female outfit with a foldover sweater (yfBody_EF18LongPant_RedandWhite) now keeps its hands to itself when the camera is far away.

Circular Roofs once again haveshingles that lay properly.

L-shaped stairs that are two or more tiles wide no longer have a misplaced triangular section on the side.

Floor and Ceiling Pattern names have been updated since they now apply to both. Try them out for Painted Ceilings if you have not already!

Lessons about camera controls now have images that include the updated “Free Camera.” If you haven’t tried it out yet, use it to check out Ceilings that you now can customize!

Growing Together

The “Screen Smarts” Moodlet that children get for watching the Brainchild Learning television channel now has text in all languages.

Horse Ranch

Live Mode

Dazed newborn Foals that are fed an Age-Up Treat now become adults who maintain their “Horseness” when going on rides so they don’t walk upright like Sims.

 Sims occasionally were stuck staring into space while starting activities such as eating or cooking. It turns out this was a possible side effect of going home from another location via “Ride Home”. Well, no longer! Sims now can enjoy their post-ride meal.

Sims on Horseback who select a “Community Job” from the Ranch Community Board now remain mounted in most cases when heading to the Job.

For new games inChestnut Ridge, Emily now only recommends affordable starter lots.

The Welcome Wagon no longer sometimes overstays its welcome because nothing says ‘Welcome to the Neighborhood’ like a bladder mishap on the porch.

“Ask About The Community” on aChestnut Ridge resident now consistently shows the neighborhoodRanch Community Board when selecting “View Board.”

Horses that are uncomfortable now shake their head less frequently while trotting or cantering. To learn more about how a Horse is feeling, just hover the cursor over the Horse or ask an unhappy Horse “What’s Wrong?”

Horses move more naturally while walking, trotting, and cantering.

Horses runningaround for Fun now run in more direct paths and avoid running through Gates.

Horses now are less likely to loop through Gates.

When engaging camera auto-follow on the active Sim who is riding on a lot with walls set to “Medium” or “Tall,” the rider now remains firmly mounted instead of skyrocketing above the world. Sims are better off exploring worlds from the relative safety of the saddle!

Sims keep their hands on the reins when their Horse moves on his or her own.

Sims making Nectar no longer freeze up when another Sim uses certain greetings with them or when making jokes about Body Hair. It’s just a neighborly hello with jokes on hold until after the Nectar is made!

The Mysterious Rancher now pays the full amount of Simoleons when a Sim sells multiple bottles of Nectar at once.

Selecting “Hire a Ranch Hand” on a Ranch Community Board and then switching to a Child now shows the initial Sim’s phone interface after selecting “Call to Hire Ranch Hand.”

Horse Training options that the Sim cannot afford now have a tooltip that correctly states the Sim’s name.

Sims who are not Father Winter no longer travel to locations such as the Equestrian Center via fireplaces. Chimney transportation is reserved!

Sims now can enter only one Horse Competition at a time. This prevents Horses from sometimes getting confused and staying in the Equestrian Center.

Sims who lose an Elder Horse friend or acquaintance to death or who witness one passing now have a “Mourning Horse” Moodlet. Rest in peace, noble steed.

On Horse Jumps, “Practice Advanced Jumps” now kicks up dust from the ground properly when the Horse knocks off the top rail.

When selling many Mini Goats or Mini Sheep in rapid succession, the chance of one being left behind and i n v i s i b l e is lower now. If you encounter this, “Save” and “Reload” to resolve the issue.

Lots you can visit no longer have the “Place Animal…” interaction.

“Sniff” and “Nuzzle” interactions with Foals and Adult Horses no longer occasionally contort the Sim’s arms.

Manure/poop is more performant at the gameplay engine level. You heard that right – we “polished” this fertilizer powerhouse.

Horses in locked, enclosed spaces or who otherwise cannot get to the edge of the lot now can be sold successfully.

Build Mode

Rust’n Chic Table Lamp now can live a life independent of walls. It now slots onto the typical horizontal surfaces rather than snapping to walls.

Paddock Fencing and Sturdy Ranch Fencing now can be built withrounded corners.

Rancher’s Dream Window’s black design now is fully black.

Cormac Pine End Table’s white design now has a white swatch.

Create a Sim

Selecting a premade shape for a Horse’s head now preserves the Mane and Tail Color and any Feathers. Did you know in real life that the Arabian’s concave head profile is described as “dish”-shaped and muzzles (noses) with a convex profile are called a “Roman nose”?

Horses now are fully visible after undoing accessories while the “Coat Color & Pattern” section is still highlighted. No i n v i s i b l e Horses here!

Premade face shapes for Sims were missing for games that had Horse Ranch and not Werewolves. They’re back now!

“Plan Outfits” for Foals now includes Mane and Forelock selection.

Foals now have better framing in the Gallery. Who can resist that cute face??

The English riding outfit (ymBody_EP14RidingDressage_LogoBlueLt) now shows up with the “Feminine” filter.

The fringejacket (yfTop_EP14JacketFringed_SolidBrown) now tucks into bottoms properly.

The “Jumpsuits” category for the “Masculine” filter no longer includes a few errant tops.

The “Boomtown Maverick” Styled Look no longer has two errant color swatches.

[tamapalace]

Tamagotchi Booth at San Diego Comic-Con 2023

image source: marketinggenome on Instagram

San Diego Comic-Con 2023 is part of the World Tamagotchi Tour that Bandai is on following the global release of the Tamagotchi Uni. This is also the first event to kickoff the World Tamagotchi Tour in North America. Bandai Namco US did NOT disappoint, as the Tamagotchi booth was gorgeous!

image source: ABC 10News San Diego

First, per usual the booth was built by Marketing Genome, a display manufacture who has made Bandai’s booths for several years and really do an awesome job!

image source: Coffretchi on Twitter

The first thing you see is a large Tamagotchi Original, like you did last year, with a screen inside playing the promotional video of the Tamagotchi Original. This year the shell is Mametchi Spaceship, if you like it enough then you could buy it! The Tamagotchi Original is mounted on a large box, and the front of the box’s design is actually on the back of the display.

As you move to the left you’ll see the theme this year is all about space, Mimitchi is shown in an out of space background where the line is formed for visitors to make purchases. The iconic Tamagotchi UFO is featured at the top and center of the Tamagotchi booth, remember when it dropped off those Tamagotchi’s in the Tamagotchi Uni teaser videos?

Then you’ve got the Tamagotchi Uni photo op, which is a large Tamagotchi Uni in pink with a cutout screen surrounded by statues of both Mametchi and Kuchipatchi, and there’s even a cute backdrop too!

image source: anzfalcon on Instagram

Behind the Photo Booth is the Tamagotchi Original wall which features a picture from the latest photoshoot and these circular frames which each hold a Tamagotchi Uni inside, the frames are in blue, pink, and green, and honestly are really stylish.

After the Tamagotchi Original section, you’ve got the collaboration section which is also on the walls. Bandai pretty much brought every collaboration including Star Wars R2-D2, Grogu, Demon Slayer, Jujutsu Kaiden, Toy Story, Spy x Family, Harry Potter, Jurassic World, and TinyTAN.

image source: anzfalcon on Instagram

On the opposite side of the Tamagotchi Original and Tamagotchi collaboration wall is a display of the new Tamagotchi Uni which is in a showcase with lights on it. Both Purple and Pink shells are displayed, along both wristbands and lanyards which were available for purchase. The Tamagotchi Uni showcase is displayed on a white podium surrounded by a Tamaverse backdrop.

Visitors spent time waiting in line for the shop which as art the booth were they could purchase so many exclusive items, including the convention exclusive Tamagotchi Original shells, and the new Tamagotchi Uni, along with Tamagotchi Uni accessories that have yet to be released!

image source: marketinggenome on Instagram

Tamagotchi Uni buyers were also given one Tama Sticker with a 16-digit download code! The three Tama Stickers are UFO Hat, Tama Tour Flag, and Tama Tour Rainbow.

image source: anzfalcon on Instagram

All purchases were accommodated by a World Tamagotchi Tour reusable bag, and a World Tamagotchi Tour pin! How cute is that?

image source: Coffretchi on Twitter

To everyone’s surprise, Mametchi made several surprise appearances! The fans went wild, and Mametchi was available to take pictures with, dance with, and even just admire. Mametchi was such a hit that several appearances were made throughout each day of the convention.

[nocteacakes]

New Rules

Dramione Month Day 3 - Professors

M, Dramione in their 30s, Omegaverse; 1084 words

“I didn’t— ” She cut off with a moan, the heat of his mouth against her neck glands wiping all thought from her brain. Hermione panted, trying desperately to string her thought back together.

“Of course, the rule-abiding, always-careful Professor Granger didn’t plan to go into heat a week before exams. She would never be so irresponsible. Of course not.” Malfoy—Professor Malfoy— spoke in a soothing voice, rubbing his thumbs in a circular motion at her hips.

It’s alright, his tone was saying. Everything will be alright. Alpha will make everything better. But what he was saying and what she was feeling went against everything she knew to be true. There was no bloody way that Draco Malfoy was here, not only helping her through her heat, but not blaming her for what she had accidentally done.

It had been over a decade since she had left Hogwarts, but she was no longer sure that government work was for her. She wanted a break from the maze of political scheming; even after all this time, she couldn’t seem to find her footing or a pathway through the layered meanings and hidden manoeuvring. When Neville had owled her to let her know a position had opened at Hogwarts, she jumped at the chance and applied immediately. It was for teaching Potions — at which she was admittedly a bit rusty — but nothing some intensive revision and a stop at Flourish and Blotts couldn’t fix. She got the owl with her acceptance letter (It really is just like going to Hogwarts all over again, she had thought) and had her letter of resignation written to her boss the next day. Everything about being back at Hogwarts filled her with the same joy she felt all those years ago. And everything would have been wonderful if it weren’t for one certain person, who unfortunately was also part of the staff.

Draco Malfoy had apparently been the Alchemy professor for a few years now, a fact that Neville had neglected to mention. Hermione saw him for the first time since the Battle at Hogwarts at the staff meeting before term began, her eyes widening in surprise. For his part he did not seem shocked at her presence; his mouth thinned at the sight of her, but he gave no other acknowledgement he had seen her. At the end of the meeting, he was one of the first to leave, but not before catching her off guard with two sentences.

“The Potions classroom is stuffy and air doesn’t circulate. Make sure you’re regularly taking your suppressants, Granger.” He was gone before she could formulate a reply.

A person’s designation wasn’t classified information exactly, but it unnerved Hermione that Malfoy knew things about her before she had even been aware that he worked at the school. And honestly, who did he think he was? As if she hadn’t been working in close quarters with all manner of people at the Ministry. He said it like it was her first day in the wizarding world, her first day working a job. Unfortunately, he had seniority over her now, however slight. It would do no good for her to snipe back at him, no matter how petty.

Fortunately, Malfoy mostly kept to himself and his classroom, rarely venturing to the Great Hall for meals with the other staff. However, as luck would have it, of all the professors he needed to liaise with, it fell to Neville — as the Herbology professor — and Hermione. Alchemy required speciality ingredients and often higher quality versions of the ingredients the Potions professor was supposed to keep stocked. Although he seemed loathe to venture out of his quarters to converse with other staff, he never failed to visit Hermione’s office to make sure she personally knew his latest grievance.

He was curt and overly critical of her work. Her ingredients were never quite at the standard he required. Her resources were too modern and simplified too much. At one point she had the fleeting thought that this must have been how Ron and Harry had felt all those years before. He was never without a frown on his face when he checked over her work, and Hermione cursed her Omega instincts that wilted at the sight of his disappointment. The worst part was that he was often right.

As the Alchemy professor, his classes required much higher precision than Hermione teaching first years. And she was loathe to admit it, but being a professor was a whole different beast to Ministry machinations. She made simple mistakes, was caught out simply by being unused to teaching children, gave herself too large a workload simply because she assigned them (what she had thought was) a reasonable amount of homework. She felt like she was drowning one moment and in a desert with no water the next. The other professors continued to reassure her that everyone had a learning period and she was doing perfectly fine, but Malfoy seemed to lurk around the corner every time something went wrong.

This time was no different. She had been brewing herself another batch of suppressants, but she had been distracted and tired — stretched thin at the end of the term. Something must have gone wrong, and Malfoy had been there to witness it.

Her body was so grateful he had been there. His touch was telling her she was safe; she wouldn’t be hurt for it.

“You’ve been trying so hard. I know, I know.” Malfoy’s hands were massaging her scalp and petting back her damp hair; his words were whispered into her ear as he ground against her hips, the evidence of his desire heavy against her thigh.

She whimpered, deflating in relief. She was so empty and so hot, but something inside her told her Malfoy would make it better. He fixed everything before; he’d surely fix this too. She hoped. Merlin, please, let him be able to fix this. “I tried—I didn’t mean to—” Tears welled up in her eyes. She was so disappointed in herself. Her emotions were going a mile a minute.

“I’ll take care of it. You’re alright, Granger. Your Alpha will take care of everything.” He kissed along her shoulders, licked her glands until she lay limp before him, and carried her to her bed. He held her close, like someone precious. Someone who mattered.

Her last coherent thought was that she was glad there wasn’t a rule against sleeping with your coworkers at Hogwarts.

[inariedwards]

Second panel from the ICOM-IMREC seminar.

I really really recommend watching the third presentation by Roshi Naidoo, which begins at timestamp 29:30. Below is a transcript of it, because the automatically generated captions on YouTube are bad, and also in case anyone is not in a place where you can watch a video or don't have the time or such. But if you can, please do watch her give her presentation in her own voice. All errors in the transcript are my own.

-

Hello everyone and thank you very much for inviting me to this very important conference. My paper is called "Let's Go Around Again: The museum carousel and its Others."

I sit down to write a conference paper on the above subject. I've written this paper before. Well not exactly this one, but variations on the theme of how institutional cultural policy around decolonisation and diversity in the UK museum sector regularly falls short of addressing its own structural racism, favouring instead the performance art of showcasing their latest flagship initiative. They are initiatives which speak to the issues, yes, often very convincingly, but they also deliberately and skillfully elide key questions, such as the positionality of its leaders, policy makers, or curators, the ways in which white supremacy lurks in its funding-outcomes-evaluation project cycle -model, or how the complexities and nuances of Black subjectivity, creativity, agency, and joy are sacrificed on the altar of neat deliverables and social media-friendly posts, aimed primarily at legitimising the museum as a force for social good, rather than dismantling power hierarchies.

What should I do? Make these points again and update them for 2023 and the current decolonial turn? This would be a valid way to approach this, but I'm uneasy, and must address why. Being told that this time is different, and that the museum carousel at least understands the circular motion of the ways in which it addresses and engages with its others. But do they really understand? This is how I see the dance.

When the funding runs out for the project perpetually situated at the edges of museum concerns, and they move on to the next "issue," the kind folk who populate the museum wring their hands in frustration, agreeing that this cycle is terrible, and ask "but how can we stop it?" Museum folk are nice, we know that. They want to change, we know that too. And nice people who want to change can't be part of the problem, can they?

The activists, outsider curators, consultants, academics, etc. say the following:

-Make changes at the core of museum work. -Forensically consider what is being said in these projects and the theoretical ideas behind them. -Learn about the cultural politics of race and representation, and about intersectionality. -Understand the breadth, depth, and complexities of our colonial past and present. -Consider your positionality and anxious responses when confronted with calls for powershifts. -Stop funding short term projects and fund structural change. -Do your "reaching out to communities" -work in tandem with considering how you recruit for actual paid jobs in the sector. -Stop instrumentalising our artists, historians, creatives, etc. for your own institutional self-aggrandisement. -Concert(?) that we may have no interest at all in reforming the museum and may go elsewhere in search of cultural, political, and social liberation.

I could go on, and the list of recommendations, reports, and interventions spanning decades, which attest to this, are lying still in filing cabinets of many museums.

So there is an answer, but when we furnish them with this, they become like the wise monkeys, and they speak over us to ask the question again, this time formulated with an intellectual and critical paradigm that fits the policies, processes, and practices that they've always worked within. Now back in their comfort zones they will suggest their own answer. We are met with a white noise of babble, and can just pick out the names of strategic reports and government policies couched in excruciatingly dead sector speak, along with references to communities, and phrases such as "lived experience" delivered blandly and without context or understanding. The slogan is that "Museums Must Decolonise." However, the message also is "but the museum will tell you how to do it."

We come back and try again. "There's a huge body of work that can help you," we say, "but it has to begin with you considering your fragility and the responses you bring to the table whenever we bring this stuff up. Maybe start with this YouTube clip, it's only an hour long." But this is already too much, and no one is listening. Museums instead will do the same thing over and over again, yet expect a different outcome. Or maybe the outcome they get is actually the desired one.

I too am on this roundabout, and also complicit in keeping it going. In this circuit then I know the role I must play. There's a wave of interest in all things decolonial and anti-racist comes into being. It means I can earn a living and someone might look at my apparently fractured CV and understand the thread of continuity that runs through it. I phrase things in sector-friendly language, hold my tongue when asked what I think of a project, which is at best just barely acceptable but at worst peddling homogenised essentialist myths, grateful that at least - as always - it is only a temporary exhibition, and will be gone soon.

I will accept that museums are on the beginning of a journey, and must be treated with patience, and will therefore sit on the knowledge that endless white innocence is a historical trope, which is enacted to maintain power. I will appear unthreatening - to an extent - but not unthreatening enough to be offered a full-time senior job in the museum to address the things I've raised - the things that management has assured me is so important to them and key to their strategic vision going forward.

There is a game being played. A set of rules and gambits to observe, and I too am part of the problem. As I star in my own microcosm of these cyclical events, I know what will happen. I will be applauded and commended for my provocative, thought-provoking paper. People will ask me afterwards to discuss things at the break. I will be invited onto an advisory board or to a confidential meeting with a high up somewhere - usually for no fee. Then we will hit a wall, and I will go away again until the next time.

So in response to that, and as a small attempt to break the cycle, I'm not going to give a traditional paper of the sort I've always given. Instead I'm going to present you with three small vignettes of what life working on the ground in the UK museum sector is like, and show how an understanding of what is happening in these interpersonal, anxiety-ridden, multi-layered moments may be more helpful than what I have presented to the sector in the past. I've merged and anonymised incidents, but each reflects a plethora of other identical moments. And all examples describe a climate that mitigates against change, despite claims to the contrary.

So, vignette 1:

The meeting decides that, although they recognise that there is a lot of theoretical work in the field of decolonisation, that what people in the sector really want is action and guidance on practice, help with the doing, not so much for the thinking, self-reflection, which is just holding things up. The inference they never spelt out is that you're a bit too academic and out of touch with the on-the-ground museum folk. We're just keen to work with local communities, to reinterpret their collection, change the racist label on an object, and open up their doors to more people.

Your suggestion, that a bit of thinking before this process may be essential to the success of this venture, has not gone down well. Besides there isn't the time or the money. You've subtly been labeled as over-intellectual and weirdly positioned as too white-identified and middle class as a result - despite being a working class person of colour - and therefore in opposition to the communities they're working with. They don't need a politics of nuance to be brought to bear on the knee-jerk essentialism that accompanies their project.

But, to express oppositional thinking and awareness of how structures of power confine and define us is part of the DNA of minoritised groups, and to dismiss this discussion as elitist, academic, or ivory tower in nature woefully misunderstands the intellectual traditions and resistance that we inhabit. Soon the self-same community is going to tell the museum that they're sick of being used as a resource and will bring the same critical skills to bear on the mooted project. The relationship will break down, resulting in the shedding of well-meaning tears of regret, and bafflement about what went wrong. Rather than learn from this though, do the reading and self-reflection, they will repeat this mistake the next time.

This is white supremacy at work. Not as visible as a hateful comment on the website, true, but part of the same network of thinking that refuses to see people in all their complexity, and as having value and identity outside of racism's structures, and totally unaware of the histories of agency and resistance that people of colour inhabit.

Vignette 2:

The museum consults a community about their gallery reinterpretation, and makes changes based on this. Other people, from what the museum understand as the same community, points out that the new display is rubbish. No one in the museum has thought about what expertise was actually needed for the refit, and that not everyone who is a person of colour will think the same thing or have the same response to the artifacts on display. There has been no respect paid to the expertise on colonial history or the politics of representation. "But we did really extensive consultation," they retort. The subtext and the silence in the meeting is "you can't please these people." This then becomes an issue of racial "infighting," not an issue of white supremacy at work again.

Vignette 3:

A senior museum person, signed up to all the diversity, decolonial, and anti-racist initiatives, confides that in the current museum climate, there is nothing that speaks to him as a straight white man. He also complains that "ethnic minorities" haven't applied for posts, so how can museums be berated for not recruiting more widely. It is a familiar moment in both your years in museum work and in life in general. You're being asked to actually reinforce this: to shrug and agree that identity politics has gone too far, or to telegraph your sympathy through silence. You have two moves here. One is to do just this and deal with the "why didn't I say?" later. The other is to speak. The fiction in the sector is that these moments or "difficult conversations" can always be embarked on. They can't, and I really admire those who have the tenacity and/or use their privileged position to do this.

My experience of this moment is that once I say, for example, - kindly, usually - that:

A) Whiteness is an identity politics, albeit rendered invisible, and that you need to understand your anxieties, or B) What else is decolonisation about if not about understanding the workings of straight white men? or C) Why does other people expressing their agency and subjectivity oppress you? or D) Where is your sense of solidarity or even curiosity?

...a familiar pattern of attack both in content and affect will ensue, no matter how nice the person in question is. Before I've got the first words out and it becomes clear I'm not agreeing, I'm spoken over. Immediately I'm accused of misunderstanding. The hurt party is now the man, who I've unfairly labeled as racist - even though I have not - by not understanding what was being said. A long list of mitigation engulfs me, and even though each confirms the view that white fragility is at play, I cannot speak again, and small fractured parts of sentences emerge from my mouth and disappear into the air. There is no listening, no desire to learn, no humility in these moments that so many of us endure. The psychic damage done to us is not an issue, and the fact that this is a scene that I've played over and over again can't be discussed.

This is not simply a recollection of one incident but of many, and all from people who are not culture warriors or rabid fanatical right-wingers attacking the museums through concerted political campaigns. It comes from nice, liberal, kind people, who would be welcoming to a Black person in their museum, and would bend over backwards to accommodate their needs, or to discuss an issue of the provenance of an artifact with them, people who are keen to do decolonial work with the local community. But this mismatch of such people enacting decolonisation work as merely procedural, without doing the most important decolonisation work, which happens between their ears, is one of the keys to unlocking this problem.

So, in conclusion, if my readings of the sector here have any validity, then there are various ways in which we can interpret these patterns. We can see this as evidence of the endurance of the bedrock contradictions of Enlightenment ideology, which historically has always been able to hold together the notion of "freedom for all" while oppressing the majority. Are we being managed as troubling others, in ways which may both give voice to us, but also seek to contain and limit those voices? Is the museum attempting to manage a fear of its own engulfment and loss of authority through hysterical reactions to the fact that we are not coming for inclusion but for power? Are museums hiding behind institutional speak as a means of avoiding the messy emotional labour that comes with genuine decolonial work, which confronts those deep circuits of economic, social, political, and cultural power, and white authority in particular?

Recently I went to see The Procession at Tate Britain in London, a piece of work by the sculptor and contemporary artist Hew Locke. This spectacular, vibrant, colourful, detailed, thought-provoking, large-scale installation - set between the classical pillars of the gallery's foyer - echoed with the centuries of labour, misery, and resistance that lives in that structure, and in the built environment of our colonial cities. Perhaps this is just a thread that can't be pulled on.

Thank you very much and I look forward to hearing your questions.