#my direct supervisor/only supervisor between me and the president put in her two weeks and so he called me

[abyssaldyke]

I havent had a panic attack in more than like 5 years but we are crying out for an exception today besties

[queeniewritesce]

Recommendations (1/2)

This was written for a @mrs-captain-evans 2,5K followers Writing Challenge. Congratulations on the milestone and here’s for 2,5K more!

I chose “Well, this is awkward…” as my prompt because as I was scrolling through the options the scene that particular scene just jumped at me.

Summary: Twitter is a strange place. But once in a while, you connect with someone.

Word count: 3,564

Warning: mild language, 35 seconds of angst, could be less if you read it fast.

Warning2: there will be a lot of Trump bashing at the beginning of this story. If you’re offended then maybe this isn’t a story you should read.

Author’s Note:  All rules regarding verified accounts and how they behave were taken from Twitter.com.

It all started innocently enough.

Chris had opened Twitter to post a video of Dodger playing with his stuffed lion, knowing his dog was a fan favorite, when Trump decided to give his opinion on a National Geographic article about Global Warming.

GOD, he was a moron. A dumb, squinty-eyed, toupee wearing, orange moron. Chris seethed as he clicked on retweet with comment and called out the man he had the displeasure of calling President.

A few seconds later his notifications started to pop up. He switched tabs to Mentions and Replies where thousands of retweets with GIFs and other memes were pouring in before he filtered the tab so only verified accounts were shown. Mark retweeted his reply, Don wrote a snarky and an awesome comeback, Ellen Page tore the man a new one and an MIT professor he met during a flight home to Boston mentioned him and your account as prime examples of the generation who could make a change. He liked some favorites, retweeted a few others and was about to close the app when a new mention popped up, this time from your account, thanking your mentor and sharing a blurb about being cool because you were now linked to Captain America.

Curiosity got the best of him and Chris clicked on your handle. The header was a picture of Diagon Alley at the Warner Brother’s Harry Potter Tour in London and the picture to the side was of a woman dressed up as a Gryffindor student, wand, scarf and a pointed hat. He noticed you were also a verified account and your small bio read ‘Y/N, 30something.’, ‘You can be anything you aspire to be. I chose to be a nerd’ and ‘Director of Media Studies at MIT’.

That is an interesting combination, he thought while looking through your latest tweets. Chris immediately found your own retweet of the orange moron and he laughed when you called him a dweeb, deeming the man unworthy of being president of your dog’s agility class, much less president of your country. You also quoted him in a series of articles that could be found at the Congress Library website and citing other articles from different countries, asking him to please trade his Rich Richie comics for something an actual president needed to know ‘You know, like Obama’.

You had an incredibly sharp mind for a woman who spent her free time dressing up as a fictional character, he thought before shaking his head when he looked down at his costume. Yeah, better not judge.

Chris spent a good chunk of his downtime between takes that day going through your tweets. Every time his PA called him to block a new scene or to film a close-up, he would carefully lock the phone without closing the app so he wouldn’t have to scroll down again.

Later that day he was back on his trailer resting, they wouldn’t be going home that night till the first Thanos fight scene was over but he was now free of his Captain America clothes and could relax. He took a shower in the small trailer bathroom, put on a loose pair of boxers and picked up his phone again, opening the Twitter app, happy to see it was exactly where he left.

Chris was now looking at your tweets from two years ago. He scrolled down on some retweets, mostly articles about social media and its influence on people, thoughts about the latest Game of Thrones episode, a tweet about watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier again after the results of the presidential election and how it had changed your views of the movie and a trip to London to guest lecture on a seminar in Oxford, with a link to watch your lecture on Youtube.  You’re funny, witty, and after watching your lecture on Book to Movies Adaptions: Bridging the Gap in the Fourth Dimension, he realized he was enthralled not only by your pretty eyes and lush lips but also with your mind.

He saw pictures of your adopted one-eyed blue merle Cardigan Welsh Corgi aptly named Captain Hook which you confessed was rarely used because you liked to call him Hooker, calling his name out loud around Cambridge Square just to get a reaction out of people. He laughed long and hard imagining you walking up and down Tudor Street asking if anyone had seen a one-eyed Hooker prancing around.

He worried his bottom lip for a moment before closing the app and opening up Safari quickly founding what he was looking for on his saved links. A new window opened and Twitter.com was now on his screen but instead of the usual @chrisevans handle, the account belonged to @BostonBrains81.

The Patriots logo stared back at him from the top of the page and a random shot of the crowd in one of the home games stood over a simple bio: Boston. Beer. Patriots.

The account he used to interact with his friends back home, like their baby pictures, sign in to various sites and go even crazier over the Patriots than he normally would on his main.

He looked nervously around his trailer before he searched for your handle, clicking the follow button before he lost his courage.

You are now following @Y/H

Was he really going through with this? His index finger hovered over the reply button on your latest tweet, the one where he was also mentioned.

“Ok Chris, you can do this.”

BostonBrains81 @Y/H you’re a lot cooler than Captain America. Wicked answer to the resident Oompa-Loompa, but I gotta ask, you think he knows how to read?

There, he did it.

_

That had been the first of the many 280 characters conversations you had with each other.

At first, you wondered if he was just a creep that followed you because Professor Travis mentioned you and Chris Evans on the same post; you had gained almost a thousand followers because of that, but they quickly unfollowed you when you didn’t gush about Chris Evans or they realized you didn’t actually know the actor. Not @BostonBrains81 though, he stuck around, commenting on some old articles you shared, liking all the pictures of Hooker you posted and even replied to the one where you shared his name asking if calling out for a Hooker in Cambridge had you stopped for solicitation at any point. You laughed at his joke and decided to follow him back.

The guy, you assumed it was a guy, was incredibly intelligent, always had a smart comeback to your jokes and could make you laugh in less than 100 characters. You shared most of the same views, from politics to music and books, the only point of contention was football. He was probably the biggest Patriots fan you had ever met and you being originally from the west coast was a Seattle Seahawks fan. He told you he had a working buddy who was a huge Seahawks fan as well and they had watched the Superbowl together in Arizona a few years back.

He’d ask you for a new book recommendation every few weeks and confessed his line of work had him waiting around quite a bit. You believed he was a flight attendant because he more than once replied to you from different parts of the country. You wondered if you should let him know the location settings were turned on.

You quickly got into a routine of checking his page to see if he was online that day and a little over two months since you first ‘talked’, you moved on to Direct Messages and conversation become more serious. Thoughts on religion, the #MeToo movement, gay rights, all were candidly discussed and you now actively sought his opinions on some of the subjects you taught your classes.

For a flight attendant, the man had some strong opinions and knew how to keep a conversation going. You chastised yourself for your classism, just because he had a blue-collar job didn’t mean he couldn’t have a sophisticated mind.

Some people are incredibly well educated and never set foot inside a college corridor, you remembered Professor Travis lecturing an advanced Media class you sat as his aide. Take Captain America for an example, I met the young man who portrays the superhero during a recent flight from Atlanta to Boston and I was highly impressed. He could very well be a post-doctorate student here, but he chose to follow his own footsteps to Hollywood and I thank him for it. I quite enjoy the dichotomy he brings to his portrayal of Captain America and Steve Rogers during The Winter Soldier and Civil War. If you haven’t, please watch those movies as we’ll be discussing them in our next class.

Professor Travis had been your theses supervisor and was one of your closest friends, even though he was thirty years your senior. The man had one of the sharpest minds you knew and his classes on Comic Books and the Juxtaposition to Modern Politics was always full, with a waiting list that never got any smaller. You usually sat those classes as his aide and he called on you often to share your views on what the media contributed to the political storm brewing on the horizon and what comic books contributed to that. Captain America had become one of Travis favorite subjects as of late, the whole Hydra and Nazis making a comeback after the last presidential election.

The fact Chris Evans engaged in politics and wasn’t afraid to speak up his mind played a huge part in why you started following him after Professor Travis met the guy. Sure, the man was eye candy to your often-tired eyes but he had a lot to offer than just those huge biceps, that amazing tight ass, and that soft-looking facial hair. You got a kick of his self-deprecating humor and once or twice you had jointed down a few books he mentioned and truly enjoyed them.

It was a really nice coincidence @BostonBrains81 had read them as well.

By the end of summer you were feeling lonely and thinking of asking another professor out. You wanted a male opinion on the idea, preferably one not in the same circle of friends and your best online friend was just the person to ask.

Well, does he make you feel nervous?

No, why would he made me feel nervous? He’s a very nice guy.

See, if you’re not nervous around him that means he doesn’t make you feel anything. If you don’t feel anything for the guy, why waste your time? And a nice guy? God, that’s the worst thing a woman can say about a man. A nice guy is as bad as saying a girl is okay. Is she beautiful? Meh, she’s okay. Does he melt your insides? Meh, he’s a very nice guy.

Seems like you gave this a lot of thought.

I’ve had more girlfriends than… jobs. When I broke up with the last one, I decided to wait for the right woman instead of getting into another destined to fail relationship. There’s no shame in stepping back and deciding you’re worthy of more than just an okay girl.

Or a nice guy.

Exactly.

Being alone is not easy though. We jump from one relationship to the next because we’re already used to the normalcy of having that steady presence in our lives. It doesn’t matter if we know that person isn’t right for us or they might even be prejudicial for us in the long run. The relationship fills a void we don’t like, that feeling there’s something wrong with us because we can’t maintain a partner.

Who let you in my head when I wasn’t looking?

Sorry for getting too deep.

You’re absolutely right though.

Thanks for the talk, no dates with nice guys from now on.

Don’t go for the bad guys either.

Well, that considerably narrows the option pool. Who am I dating then?

How about me?

Good one funny boy.

What’s wrong with me?

Barring the fact that I don’t even know your real name and you could very well be catfishing me, not much.

Catfishing?

You know, trying to make me believe you’re someone you’re not.

.

You there?

Sorry. Yeah, I’m definitely not trying to make you believe I’m anyone but myself. Name’s Chris by the way.

Nice to meet you, Chris, I’m Y/N.

Your conversations with @BostonBrains81, better yet, Chris, were now a daily occurrence and included questions about your daily lives and personal family stuff, Chris had three siblings, the youngest had been adopted and you spent a whole afternoon discussing the effects of adoptions on both the family and the child, you commended his parents for going through the processes and he opened his heart about normalizing the girl when she first came to live with them but now she was his favorite sister and he couldn’t imagine life without Shanna in it. He told you about moving away from home at eighteen to pursue his dream job, you shared how difficult adapting to Boston was at first but how you couldn’t see yourself living anywhere else now. He confided in you his work had him burned out a little and how much he missed home. Since his location had been stationed in Atlanta for the past three weeks, you deduced he worked for Delta Airlines.

Hey, you there? Can we talk?

Sure, I’m just lounging, you good?

I’m still at work, everyone is being a dick today and I’m having a hard time coping, plus I’m tired and a little cranky.

I’m sorry. Coworkers can be a pain in the ass sometimes, no matter what the field. Have you tried the exercises you told me about?

Yes. More than once. They seem to work for a while but then I have to head back in and someone else decides it’s his turn to be a dick. And now the… execs are here and they want to change some of the stuff that’s already done so that means more work and more dick-headed people all around.

When it’s your turn?

Uh?

Well, since everyone is having a bad day, why can’t you lash out? Be a dick too?

It’s never my turn. Chris is always the good guy, Chris is never a diva.

You don’t need to be a diva to demand respect. Demand respect while being respectful, but put your foot down. The old you get more flies with honey. Do you need to be there?

I’m supposedly done for the day.

So go home, take a bath, sleep in clean sheets. I know how hard it is to turn off work, sometimes I stay in my office for hours after I’m my shift, but it’s not healthy. If they truly need you, they know where to find you.

They do yeah.

Go home, Chris. Pass on the shield.

What?

Like Captain America did in the comics. Let someone else do the job.

Oh. Okay, yeah, that makes sense.

I make a lot of sense when I’m drinking wine.

So your advice comes from your inebriated mind?

I’m hardly inebriated. It’s one glass of wine while reading a book in the bathtub. This is my me time.

I’m sorry for interrupting your naked me time. Thanks for the visual though, it’ll help me with my own time when I get home.

Go home, Chris. It’s the wine’s order.

You were now on a territory you swore you’d never slipped into; flirting with a stranger online. You tried to talk yourself out of it, tried to curb this insane idea manifesting inside your head and your heart, you were a scholar for goodness sake, you taught your students to never engage romantically online, therefore, you should know better.

You most certainly didn’t.

I’d like to take you out for coffee sometime, you could show me around MIT.

Maybe. When you get back from Atlanta, let me know.

How do you know I’m in Atlanta?

Your location setting is turned on.

Is it? Damn.

Yeah, I should have told you sooner. Working for Delta Airlines must nice though.

Yeah… I guess. Blue collar job though.

Don’t be like that, you should not be ashamed of what you do for a living. If it makes you happy, it’s all that matters.

You’re right, I’m pretty happy doing what I do. So, coffee?

Sure. I usually get my caffeine fix from ‘Bean there, Doughnut That’ over at Arrow St. It’s always full of students.

Smart girl, going for a place where you can find a friendly face if we don’t get along.

That, and you could be a serial killer, I need witnesses to remember your face. It’s not like I *really* know you.

I look forward to changing that. I’ll be home after Columbus Day. Could we meet then?

Yes, sure. I want to finally put a face to the man I’ve talking for the past four months. It’s a date.

A date uh? I like that. I like that very much. I hope you like my face when you see it, I kinda have an ugly mug.

I’m sure your face is fine. Besides, I already like your personality and that’s the part I always have trouble with.

Checking Twitter had become your new guilty pleasure and you’d close the app with a frown if Chris didn’t post anything every few days, exactly what was happening right now.

He had been offline for a whole week and you missed your usual banter, his witty sense of humor and how he took to calling you Professor Hottie. The Patriots lost the second game of the season and you wanted to gloat a little but most of all you just wanted to know if he was okay.

Biting your lip, you clicked on the direct message button.

Been a while since you’ve been online, did you get lost on the way back from Boston Market?

I see that you turned off your location sharing. Was I being too stalkerish?

I guess you’re busy or maybe you just don’t want to talk to me. I’ll leave you be.

Had you come on too strong? Did you sounded desperate and scared him off? You read your past conversations and nothing sounded too eager on your part, maybe he just wasn’t interested anymore.

Well, that was that.

You sighed and refreshed your home page one last time, checking your latest tweets and was surprised to see a new Tweet from Chris Evans, another Chris who had been MIA lately.

ChrisEvans Officially wrapped on Avengers 4. It was an emotional day, to say the least. Playing this role over the last 8 years has been an honor. To everyone in front of the camera, behind the camera, and in the audience, thank you for the memories! Eternally grateful.

Interacting with celebrities were never really your thing but you would miss Captain America, you were sure they would have to kill him if Evans would not play the iconic soldier anymore, so you took a chance and clicked on reply.

Y/H @chrisevans thanks for making Cap cool again, you made him justice and gave the tired soldier a new and improved multifaceted personality. We’re gonna miss him.

Satisfied with your chosen words you smiled as you hit send. You got a few likes notification right away, some of your students and MIT faculty retweeted your post, Professor Travis included.

ChrisEvans @y/h thank you. Having people like you and @TravisMIT giving Cap your stamp of approval certainly makes me think I did a good job.

Wide eyes blinked back to the screen when you read his response. He not only thanked you but for some reason he held your opinion to a higher standard? How was that possible?

Your mentions exploded with people asking you similar questions and you had to switch to verified account only to stop the barrage of notifications for new tweets coming through.

Your phone beeped with a new direct message and a small glimpse of hope that your Chris was back made you forget about Evans.

Hey, sorry for the disappearance act, work has been crazy lately. You’re definitely not stalkerish, that title actually belongs to yours truly but I’ll tell you more over coffee. Don’t ever think I don’t want to talk to you, our conversations are the highlight of my days. I missed you a lot these past ten days.

You cocked your head side to side while reading the message, twice, three times, trying to understand exactly what was going on. You should be happy, it was exactly what you wanted to read after being ghosted for over a week.

There was only one problem. The DM did not come from @BostonBrains81. It came from @ChrisEvans.

You hovered your mouse over the reply button but your brain was short-circuiting. You started and deleted dozens of replies, none of them conveying what you were feeling well enough. Deceived. Betrayed.

New direct messages appeared one after the other.

               Well, this is awkward…

               I can explain.

               Please talk to me.

               Look, I was stupid for not telling you sooner but doesn’t change how I feel about you. Can we talk? Please?

You’re now blocking @ChrisEvans.

You’re now blocking @BostonBrains81

[jsl65-blog]

My Dispute with Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir - The Context

Last month (March 2019) the Central London Employment Tribunal gave judgment in a preliminary hearing related to the case, A Christie v Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir. 

(David Lakhdhir)

For those unfamiliar with legal jargon, Ms Christie is the “claimant” in the case (i.e., she brought proceedings and is “claim”ing X, Y, Z). Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir are the “respondents” (i.e., they are defending or “respond”ing to Ms Christie’s claim against them). Paul Weiss is an American law firm with an office in London; David Lakhdhir is one of the managing partners of the London office. Ms Christie is a former employee of Paul Weiss, and David Lakhdhir was her direct supervisor during her employment.

Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir face allegations of:

sex discrimination;

harassment;

victimisation; 

automatic unfair dismissal for making a whistle blowing disclosure; and

religious discrimination

Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir asked for the preliminary hearing, the reasons for which will be discussed below, and invited the Employment Tribunal to consider striking out (i.e., dismissing) Ms Christie’s claim. The judge ruled in Ms Christie’s favour. The judgment can be found here. 

The judgment got the attention of RollOnFriday, which is a British media website designed for and used by those in the legal profession. I think it is safe to assume that RollOnFriday had an interest in the case because Ms Christie is claiming £136 million against Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir. RollOnFriday subsequently published a piece about the judgment. The piece can be viewed here.

I am not a party to the case, but it will be obvious to readers that my name is all over both the judgment and the RollOnFriday piece. Why?

The short answer to this question is that I tweeted and wrote several correspondences that were designed to draw public attention to the allegations (see above) the respondents are facing. The respondents were none too pleased about this unwanted publicity. They were (and are) desperate to ensure that no one finds out that they are facing these allegations. And I think it would be fair to point out that the respondents surely do not want people to know that it was not just Ms Christie who sued them on similar grounds (I will mention more on this in a later post). 

At the preliminary hearing, Paul Epstein QC attempted to argue that Ms Christie had directed me to put public pressure on the respondents so that they would settle the case. In the respondents’ view, my behaviour was egregious, vexatious or unreasonable and that, since Ms Christie allegedly directed me to act, she ought to be held accountable for my actions by having her case struck out. However, the judge essentially held that while there was some information sharing between Ms Christie and myself, the respondents had started a separate dispute with me personally and I was retaliating against them by drawing public attention to the allegations (paragraph 39 of the judgment). 

But what the judgment does not explain is how the dispute between the respondents and myself arose. Thus, I thought I would start a blog about the case, and other things going on in my life. With respect to my motivations for writing about the case in particular, I would suggest (off the top of my head) that there are at least two such motivations, but perhaps more. First, because the final hearing (set for May 2019) will undoubtedly be widely reported on, I think it would be useful for those interested to understand the background and the issues in plain language from an insider’s (and also a lawyer’s) perspective. Second, there seems to be quite a bit of conjecture surrounding the case and why I decided to speak out about it. Therefore, over the coming days I will try to unpack my connection to the case and explain as best I can what led up to the preliminary hearing, although I cannot promise the updates will be at regular intervals. 

Before I conclude, I have always been fascinated by Sun Tzu (545-496 BC), who was a very influential Chinese military strategist and philosopher. Among other things, Sun Tzu said that, in order to properly understand and wage war, one must first master the art of deception. In particular, Sun Tzu suggested that deceiving an adversary into thinking their opponent to be inferior is a powerful weapon, albeit only if wielded properly. Such a deception could encourage an adversary’s arrogance, and arrogance invites decision-making error and ultimately defeat.  

This leads me to another, hidden, aspect of the judgment. The judge noted that “[w]hilst the Tribunal is invited to infer from the fact that the tweeting stopped on 17 December 2018 that it was a joint enterprise, it could also have been because Mr Liptrap realised that he might be legally exposed himself. He had separately received a strongly worded letter from Stephenson Harwood on the same day pointing this out” (paragraph 38 of the judgment). 

This was not why I stopped tweeting. Call it a (Lip) trap, call it a ruse, call it a deception. I knew that Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir would - arrogantly - ask for a preliminary hearing and make a strike out application (bearing in mind that they were desperate to keep people from knowing about the case to prevent reputational damage). I knew that any preliminary hearing would likely be about me, and I also knew that I would not be invited or alerted to its existance. Therefore, when I found out that the respondents got themselves twisted in my spider’s web, I wrote to the Employment Tribunal president, Judge Doyle, and then to the Employment Tribunal itself.

It was a nifty insurance policy, if I do say so myself. Indeed, while it is not quite visible, there are shadows of it in the subtext of the judgment, if one knows where to look.  For example, paragraph 39 of the judgment is eerily similar to what I wrote in my application to the Employment Tribunal after the preliminary hearing. Of course, I would never have been able to draw more attention to the case on my own without the help and hard work of the respondents’ legal representation. So I have Anne Pritam (partner at Stephenson Harwood) and Paul Epstein QC to thank for that. 

(Anne Pritam)

(Paul Epstein QC)

Cheers for all your efforts, lads. 

Now the case is even more conspicuous - Paul Weiss and David Lakhdhir have no one to blame for that but themselves. Furthermore, RollOnFriday intend to follow up on what is below next week (but obviously whether that actually happens remains to be seen). It is also only a matter of time until larger media organisations pick up on the case, and I need not lift a finger to make that happen. 

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Imagine Bucky is an employee at Stark Industries and one day he has to bring his child in. And of course child somehow gets lost and ends up in Tony's office where tony is completely charmed.

No Job Too Small

“Okay,Wanda,” Bucky said, directing his child toward the guest-chair in his office.He had to clear a stack of papers off it before she could sit; Bucky’s officewas nothing short of a disaster, something his supervisor liked to complainabout. “You get to sit in this chair, and Piet--” Crap, where was Pietro again?Bucky could swear that kid was quicksilver, he disappeared every single timeBucky didn’t have eyes on him for three seconds, tops.

Under his desk, Bucky heard a faintscrape. “There you are!”

In his fantasies, Bucky was goingto strangle Pepper Potts. Last year -- and all the years between last year andwhen the twins were born -- the Bring Your Kid to Work day had been on a schoolday, and even though his kids had just started first grade, he had themenrolled in an advanced day care center practically when his ex had presentedhim with her testing kit and the two little pink lines.

This year, however, Potts hadrescheduled so that the company event was on one of the few bank holidays thatthe school was closed, but Stark Industries was not.

(Not that Bucky, as a member of theIT security department, got bank holidays off. Operations was too vital forthings like President’s Day. And today had proved that for sure; he’d had topush his kids into Darcy Lewis’s tender care for the first few hours of theday, when there was a massive DDOS attack against their servers. Fortunately,that had only taken about an hour to divert the incoming attacks to the dummyproxy VR farm that Bucky’d been tinkering with as a side project for a while.He was just patting himself smugly on the back when Darcy had thrust Wanda athim and told him “take your little witch and get out of my life.”)

“I found a nickel,” Piet informedBucky, holding out the black and dingy coin.

“Good for you,” Bucky said as Pietput it in his pocket. “Stop prospectin’ under my desk and go sit with yoursister.”

Piet’s lower lip pooched out.“She’s gonna bite me.”

“She’s not going to bite you,”Bucky said. That may or may not have been a lie. Wanda’d gone through a fewbiting phases, and Piet had borne the worst of it. He was pretty sure she wasover it -- the last few times she’d bitten anyone, she’d lost televisionprivileges for a week -- but putting the twins in any sort of new situationoften flared up their various behavioral problems.

“I am going to bite him,” Wandareported, looking up from Bucky’s phone where she was gleefully blowing up pigsin Angry Birds. “If he pokes me. Or wiggles too much. Or looksat me. He deserves it.”

Bucky rubbed his hand over hisface. “No one’s biting anyone.”

“Says you,” Wanda said.

“Yes, I did. No biting, younglady,” Bucky said. Damn, he wished Nat was here. She could get the kids tobehave. Of course, the fact that the kids only saw their mother in person abouttwice a year had a lot to do with that. Piet in particular had come to theconclusion that if he misbehaved around Nat, she’d just leave and never comeback.

“But--”

“No buts,” Bucky said. He kneltdown in front of the chair. “Do we need to talk about why you shouldn’t hurtpeople, again?”

Wanda wriggled a bit, putting herfinger to the side of her mouth like she was considering it. Bucky wasn’t sureif she was deciding if she wanted the lecture, or if she wanted to bite herbrother, but he let her think it through.

“I won’t bite Piet,” she said,finally.

“Thank you, kiddo,” Bucky said.

“He’s not here to bite anyway,”Wanda pointed out.

Oh. Oh, god.

(mobile readers, more below the cut)

The nice thing about being TonyStark was that no one actually expected to find him in his top-floor fishbowlstyle office.

He was usually found showing upexactly where his employees didn’t want him -- Maria Hill had been utterlyscandalized the one time she’d found Tony on his back, under the floor panels,helping with a rack power grid installation, covered with dirt. The poorelectricians who’d let him assist had no idea who he was, and they wereterrified they were going to lose their jobs. Tony’d promoted Scott Langimmediately, and his assistant a few months after that, and Tony dropped in onthem at lunch from time to time. Scott had used one of his bonuses to buy theelectricians under his command a shiny new espresso machine, which Tony foundas a convenient excuse to drop in.

Or, he was in the labs andworkshops, chasing R&D out of their moleholes, helping with ideas, workingthe Stark magic.

So when he was all fucking peopledout from a terrible board meeting, a shitty press conference about the DDOSattacks on Stark Industries and the possibility of compromised information, thestand-up with Cyber Security team leads, and the loss of one of their bestresearchers -- Tony still wasn’t sure why Parker had left to work for Oscorps,the man had never indicated that he was unsatisfied with his work at SI -- heretreated to his office.

Where no one was going to look forhim.

Tony kicked off his expensive, butnot particularly comfortable shoes and loosened his tie as soon as he walkedinto the office. Hung his jacket on the back of the door and cuffed his shirtsleeves.

He considered the decanter ofbourbon that, even now, he kept under the sideboard cabinet. Everyone knew TonyStark had an alcohol problem; very few people knew that he’d managed to kick itto the curb. So he still kept the bottle, offered a drink to high-end clientsor peers, but also as a symbol of the thing that he’d beaten. Which also meantthat whenever he had a shit day, he had to deal with that temptation, goldenand gleaming.

Tony threw himself into his leatherdesk chair, stretching his arms over his head and extending his feet--

Into a soft shape that squeaked.

“What the actual fuck?”

“You kicked me!” an indignant voicecomplained.

Tony rolled his tongue around inhis mouth for a moment, utterly at a loss. “You’re under my desk,” he pointedout, “which is where my feet go.”

“You weren’t here,” the voicecontinued.

Tony almost -- almost -- slouchedin his chair to peer under his desk, but then, it was his desk, after all.“Come out here where I can look at you.”

A shock of nearly white hairemerged and Tony had just enough time to wonder if his office had been invadedby hobbits or something, when the kid looked up, and it was a kid, under thatstrange, white-silver hair. Probably old enough to be in school, but obviously not inschool today, with piercing blue eyes and a truly impressive scowl.

“You’ve seen me,” the kid said.

“So I have,” Tony said. “Who do youbelong to?”

“I don’t belong toanyone,” the kid said. “You don’t own people.”

Tony laughed, twitching his handover his mouth. “Well, true enough, but… who’s your mom?”

The kid stared at him. “That’sclassified.”

Tony about choked. “What?”

“She works for the President,” theboy reported. “She’s very important. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Ooookay. Try again. Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, my name is Tony Stark. What’syours?”

“Pietro Maximoff Romanov-Barnes,”the kid said.  

Jesus Christ, the kid’s name waslonger than he was. Tony brought up his computer with a wave of his hand; thelightscreen keyboard hovering midair. He accessed personnel. No Romanovs orRomanov-Barnes in the roster. And there were fifteen freaking Barnes. “Nowwe’re not strangers anymore.”

The kid looked dubious, which wasokay. Tony was pretty damned dubious himself.

Also, while he was in there, he checkedhis email, and discovered that it was bring your kid to work day, whichexplained why there was a kid here, in the building here, and not at all whythere was a kid here, in his office here.

“Which parent brought you in here,today?”

“Dad.”

“And what’s his name?”

“Bucky.”

Tony checked the roster. There wasabsolutely no Bucky Barnes on his list of employees.

“So, where’s your dad?”

“Dunno,” Pietro said. “I ran offwhen Wanda blew up the copier.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Who’sWanda?”

The kid jutted out his jaw.“Sister. Younger sister. Twelve minutes.”

Twins. Great. Tony tapped in a fewkeys, accessing-- oh, here it was, maintenance called to repair a copier downin CSF. “Okay, well, come on, let’s see if we can find your father, hmmm?”

“Can’t I stay here?”

Tony blinked. “Why would you wantto?”

Pietro looked around from hishiding place, leaning against Tony’s knee. “No sisters.”

“Oh, well, I can see that as beingan advantage,” Tony said. “On the other hand, I bet your dad’s worried aboutyou.”

“He’s prolly still cleaning upafter Wanda,” Pietro pointed out.

“Still…” Tony pushed his desk chairback, stood up and offered the kid a hand. “Let’s go see if we can find him.”

There were only so many placesPietro could have gotten to, without having a badge (and Bucky had checked --twice! -- to make sure his son hadn’t snatched his badge when he wasdistracted) unless people weren’t paying attention and let a six year oldfollow them through restricted doors.

He wasn’t up to panic yet; panicabout Pietro disappearing had stopped happening around the time he was four,and had disappeared at least once a week for the last year and a half. Now hewas just resigned. If he didn’t find his son in the next hour or so, he’dprobably work himself up to panicking again.

Pietro had been found any number ofplaces: asleep under a rack of coats at JC Penney’s, inside the ice-cream caseat the local grocer’s, in the narrow gap between the sofa and the wall (thathad been the one time Nat had actually called the police because the front doorof their apartment had also been left open). One time he’d even torn open thebottom of the king-sized box spring in Bucky’s bedroom and hidden inside it.

The first time he’d gone a quicksweep of the floor to see if he could locate his wayward son, Wanda had slippedout of his office and managed to blow up the copier. Literally. She was coveredin printer toner in a variety of colors that weren’t usually found in nature.So, she was on her leash, clipped to Bucky’s wrist while he searched.

Cafeteria and vendateria were bothchild-free (well, free of his child, at any rate). He’d checked with security;no unattended children had left the building, so that was good, at least. Hechecked the common areas -- two employee lounges; freed Wanda from her clip tocheck the ladies’ room, while he scoped out the men’s rooms. No Pietro.

He was just headed back up theelevator to see if the kid had managed to get to the public shop floors, wherethere were two coffee shops, a tea shop, a massage spa, a bistro and a fewother places that weren’t strictly Stark Industries, but occupied the firstfloor.

“Good morning, James,” Pepper Pottssaid. The look on her face gave Bucky the heads up that her goodwas sarcastic.

“Ms. Potts,” Bucky said. He verymuch did not want to see her face as she looked past him at his multi-coloredchild behind him.

“Mr. Stark is in your office,” shesaid, her mouth twitching. “He’d like to see you, if you don’t mind.”

Fuck.

Seeing Tony Stark (Tony Stark!) in hisoffice was surreal. Sure, Bucky knew who the guy was; it was impossible to workin the building and not know who he was. Not to mention that the CEO of StarkIndustries was on the cover of Time Magazine more than once (and featured insleazy tabloids much more than once). There was an enormous portrait of him inthe main lobby and some more tasteful, smaller ones, scattered around thebuilding.

Seeing him sitting behind Bucky’sdamn desk, tapping away at Bucky’s aging laptop, with Bucky’s damn son in hisfucking lap was crazy. He was also handsomely disheveled, hair messed up, histie open and dangling around his throat, a few buttons of his shirt undone, andhis sleeves rolled up. He was also in sock-feet.

Bucky swallowed hard. He knew thatStark was a good-looking man. Four on the top ten most eligible bachelor’slist. His casual noticing that Stark was good looking grabbed water andsunlight and blossomed into a goddamn crush while Stark was just sitting there.

Fuck.

I am so, so fucking fired.

He didn’t even know what he’d done(aside from dare to try to have a normal life with his wife and kids, and thenhis wife had decided she wasn’t done with the game, and had left him to go backto D.C.) but he was going to be fired.

And not just fired, but spectacularlyfired. Making the tabloids himself levels of fired.

“Mr. Stark,” Bucky said, standingin the doorway of his office and trying not to cringe.

“Dad!” Piet chirped from his seaton Stark’s lap. “This is my new friend, Tony.”

“Mr. Stark,” Bucky repeated, thistime correcting his son.

“Tony’s fine,” the man himselfsaid, waving a hand. “Come in, sit down, this was you?” He pointed at thelaptop.

“Wha-- oh, the DDOS solution? Yes,sir. We deployed it this morning.”

“You coded the most efficientsolution I’ve ever seen… how long--”

“I’ve been working with the ideafor a while, sir,” Bucky said, blinking. What the hell were they talking aboutthis for? “It just got urgent, today.”

“I’ll say,” Stark said. “What areyou doing down here?”

“Huh? I mean, I was looking forPiet-- did you… was he in here--”

“No, I found him under my desk,actually,” Stark said. “Beside the point. You left your laptop open, and Ihelped myself. I do have a master-command code, you know. This is brilliant,I’m… look, here. I have another board meeting about the DDOS this afternoon,and I’d like you to come with me. Show your solution to the board, I’m veryimpressed. And grateful. The attack was bad, but it could have been so muchworse and I’d like to talk with you about the direction of your career. Yourson tells me that you used to work in cyber security at the White House?”

Bucky nodded. “Yes, sir, underSenator Pierce. Until--”

“Until you had an affair with oneof the Secret Service agents,” Tony said. “Yes, I looked over your personnelfile while I was waiting. Lost your job. She went into retirement for a while,you two tried the picket fence and two point five kids thing for about twoyears--”

“She left us,” Wanda reported,peering around Bucky’s leg, “for her job. An’--”

“Honey, that’s personal,” Buckysaid. Godddamnit, he hated that his kids felt so damn abandoned. “But it wasmore than that, you know that, right Wanda? Your mom, she just wasn’t happyhere. She… likes protecting people. That’s what she does.”

“Dad, c’n Tony come over an’ watchSuperfriends with us, this weekend?” Piet asked.

Bucky blinked. What? Huh? “Uh, I’msure Mr. Stark--”

“--Would love to,” Starkinterrupted.

Bucky pinched himself. Surely thishad to be some sort of wild nightmare/dream and the alarm was getting ready togo off and he’d have to drag himself through another day at work and--

“Great, sure,” Bucky said, becausewhat the utter fucking hell was he supposed to say.

“Great,” Stark repeated. “Okay,look, I’ll get Ms. Potts to find you someone to look after the twins -- cute asthey are, I don’t think the board would find it at all as charming as I do.And… I’ll see you in Stateroom 2, at four o’clock. Don’t be late. We’ll discussour weekend outing. After? Okay? Ok, kid, I gotta go be bossy for a while now.But I’ll see you soon.”

And then Tony was handing overBucky’s son with a quick pat on the shoulder and gone in a swirl of expensivecologne.

Bucky walked over to his deskchair, sat down hard. “What… what just happened?”

“You have a playdate with Mr. Tonythis weekend,” his son informed him crisply.

Bucky rolled his tongue around inhis mouth for a moment. “Okay, then.”

“I like him, he’s nice,” Piet said.

“And cute,” Wanda piped up. “Can wekeep him?”

Bucky blinked. “He’s my boss. He’snot even my boss, he’s like my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss.”

Who was coming over to his… house.To watch cartoons? With his son. What even was his life?

Bucky continued to stand there,stunned.

“Don’t forget your meeting,” Wandasaid, helpfully.

Bucky took a deep breath. He coulddo this; present his DDOS solution to a board meeting. Right. In his tee andjeans, because the lower floors of SI didn’t have a dress code beyond “yes,please wear clothes.” That were covered with Wanda’s inky handprints.

There was nothing for it; if Starkwas going to actually bring him to a board meeting, he wasn’t likely to getfired for looking like he had personally engaged in gladiatorial combat withthe office printer.

Two hours later, Ms. Potts wastaking his kids off to get an ice-cream and Bucky was wearing a jacket that shepresented to him with a quick smile. He hesitated in front of Stateroom two,and then opened the door. Bucky clutched his thumb drive with his slide deckcarefully saved on it.

He could do this.

Two months later

“You look… nice.”

“Always the tone of surprise, Nat,”Bucky said. He glanced in the mirror, tucked his flyaway hair back into themessy little bun at the base of his neck.

“Tell me you didn’t get all dressedup for me,” she said, balancing Wanda on her hip.

“He didn’t,” Piet informed her.“Daddy’s got a date! We’re having mommy time tonight.”

Nat blinked. “Oh. You’re datingagain?”

“Yes.” Bucky hadn’t bothered toshare that little detail with her, although he’d been delighted to tell herabout his sudden -- meteoric, really -- promotion and pay raise.

“That’s good, James,” Nat said.“That’s really… I’m glad to hear it.”

The doorbell rang.

“That’s him!” Piet yelled, runningoff down the hall. Wanda squirmed to be put down and chased after her twin.

“Him?” Nat’s eyebrow went up. “Andthe kids--”

“Wanda and Piet love Tony,” Buckysaid. “It’s… honestly, it’s because of them that we got together in the firstplace.”

“I can see we’ll have some catchingup to do.”

“After,” Bucky said. “You, erm, youdon’t mind, do you?”

“It’s not babysitting,” Nat said.“They are my children, too.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

Tony was in the hall, Bucky couldhear him talking earnestly with Wanda, who was telling him all about a dreamshe had the day before. “... but was it a seedless grape?”

And there he was, Tony, dressed tothe nines.

“--and this is our mom,” Pietinformed him.

“Ms. Romanov,” Tony greeted her,looking every inch the perfect gentleman. (He wasn’t. Which Bucky had every reasonto know, and was delighted by.)

Nat blinked. “Tony Stark.” Shewhirled on Bucky. “You’re dating TonyStark?”

Tony threaded his hand withBucky’s, lacing their fingers together. “Yes, yes he is. And he’s running late,so, if you don’t mind, I’m going to steal him now.”

Nat made her little wave, fingerswriggling. “By all means…”

Bucky hugged and kissed his kidsgoodnight, gave Nat a brief peck on the cheek and pretended not to be affectedwhen Wanda and Piet both insisted on goodnight kisses from Tony as well. Puthis arm around his boyfriend’s waist. And reminded himself to send Pepper Pottsa gift, for insisting on Bring Your Kids to Work day.

[livinginlandmarketing]

Two weeks after scores of people of all races flooded downtown San Bernardino to protest police brutality and systemic racism in the wake of George Floyd‘s death, local school board President Gwen Dowdy-Rodgers and her colleagues did something new.

Representing more than 47,000 students, as well as administrators, teachers, staffers and parents on June 16, 2020, San Bernardino City Unified board members took turns reading portions of a resolution into the record.

The declaration?

That the county’s largest school district was “unequivocally” anti-racist, and that it condemns all acts of racism.

Now days before the nation marks the 36th annual Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Dowdy-Rodgers and other Southern California leaders and activists are reflecting on the connection between the late civil rights icon’s lasting call for social justice and the summer’s Black Lives Matter movement and subsequent efforts to change policy in the region.

From right, Gwen Dowdy-Rodgers, San Bernardino school board president, and board members Margaret Hill and Danny Tillman with the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. statue at San Bernardino City Hall in San Bernardino on Thursday, January 14, 2021. (Photo by Terry Pierson, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

A reath was placed at the base of the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. statue at San Bernardino City Hall in honor of Martin Luther King Jr. Day in San Bernardino on Thursday, January 14, 2021. (Photo by Terry Pierson, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

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Gwen Dowdy-Rodgers, San Bernardino school board president, center with board members Danny Tillman, left and Margaret Hill with the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. statue at San Bernardino City Hall in San Bernardino on Thursday, January 14, 2021. (Photo by Terry Pierson, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

The statue of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. has a hole in his hand over his heart at San Bernardino City Hall in San Bernardino on Thursday, January 14, 2021. (Photo by Terry Pierson, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

Gwen Dowdy-Rodgers, San Bernardino school board president, center with board members Margaret Hill, left and Danny Tillman with the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. statue at San Bernardino City Hall in San Bernardino on Thursday, January 14, 2021. (Photo by Terry Pierson, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

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‘Send a message’

Three days after she and her San Bernardino school board colleagues condemned all acts of racism, brutality, racial profiling and the excessive use of force by law enforcement, Dowdy-Rodgers was part of a contingent of community members to implore San Bernardino County leaders to take a similar stand.

“It was very important for us to send the message that we are very serious about raising social justice issues and equity issues,” Dowdy-Rodgers said, “because policy is something we can point to when things are not the way they should be.”

Having met twice previously with faith leaders, activists and members of the Black community, the Board of Supervisors on June 23 declared racism a public health crisis.

Soon after, cities across the region adopted similar resolutions acknowledging racism exists and condemning it outright, and educators began exploring expanded ethnic studies programs and measures to create inclusive learning environments.

Such actions are a direct result of the mass protests that spread nationally after the death of Floyd, a Black man who died in Minneapolis police custody after an officer knelt on his neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds, said Darrin Johnson, an organizer with Black Lives Matter Inland Empire. But the 38-year-old said he will not be satisfied until concrete change – in schools, in government, in policing – is achieved.

“The protests showed that when pressure is put to government, (officials) will be forced to act,” Johnson said. “Unfortunately, as fall went through, our momentum was lost and I feel politicians were less compelled to take those kinds of actions.

“I feel like the people we have now in positions of power, especially career politicians, are too used to playing political games,” Johnson added. “That’s how they stay in power and continue to do the things they do. They throw us a crumb and are convinced they’re doing stuff for us.

“We need to hold everyone’s feet to the fire to keep this momentum going.”

Linking generations

As Dowdy-Rodgers reflects on summer 2020, what makes her most proud of the Black Lives Matter movement and subsequent policy discussions and changes is the bond now established between those with first-hand memories of King and those who’ve come to admire him through textbooks, biographies and iconic video clips.

“We are connecting the generations that had been disconnected,” Dowdy-Rodgers said. “Those who were part of or close to that time when civil rights was just coming to the forefront and those marching and fighting got us to where we are today. Now, we’re handing the baton over to this generation, this young generation, and saying ‘We want to support you.’”

Activist Kayla Booker, 26, is a small business owner and founder of The B.L.A.C.K. Collective, supporting black businesses and creators in the Inland Empire. (Photo courtesy of Kayla Booker)

Kayla Booker, a college student activist in Riverside, said King’s work and legacy have emboldened younger generations, decades later, to stand up in today’s social and political climates.

The 26-year-old who participated in a number of demonstrations and rallies in Riverside and across the Inland Empire said more young people of color need to be involved in their local communities and in leadership roles.

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter,” Booker said, paraphrasing King’s 1965 sermon in Selma, Alabama. “If we’re not sitting at the table, then who is hearing our voices and concerns?”

Resilience, Booker said, is something she learned from King. She is president and founder of The B.L.A.C.K. Collective, a group of young Black leaders in Riverside working to uplift the area through events, community involvement, mentorship and entrepreneurship.

“We’re tired of not being heard, of feeling alone,” Booker said. “We’re the only African American group (in this area), run by youth, and no one has reached out to us about our concerns. Not the mayor or sheriff. They want to go out and take pictures with us, but they don’t ask us how we can help, what we can do, to really make a difference.

“At some point, you’re going to hear us.”

With help from three friends, Sage Hill School graduate Jackie Ni built SupplyCrate.org, an online nexus for procuring and distributing PPE (more than 375,000 pieces). Then came BLMsupplycrate.org, to facilitate requests and donations to organizers and activists involved in social justice protests. (Photo by Jeff Gritchen, Orange County Register/SCNG)

With college campuses offering only virtual classes this fall due to the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, Sage Hill High School graduate Jackie Ni decided to postpone his freshman year of college to spend his free time addressing economic and social justice issues.

At first, that meant organizing other teens to secure thousands of pieces of personal protective equipment, or PPE, for health care workers at the onset of the pandemic. But after Floyd’s death, Ni pivoted to supporting Black Lives Matter organizers.

As a result, the Irvine teen formed the nonprofit BLMsupplycrate.org.

By the end of September, the group had raised a few thousand dollars to help pay for such necessities as permit fees and supplies of water, along with shipping more than 3,000 protective masks to protesters in California, New York and parts of the Midwest.

Ni’s support of the Black Lives Matter movement segued into forming a youth-led political action committee, called MemePAC, with three Orange County friends his age — Theodore Horn, Jason Yu and Vera Kong. In school, the 18-year-old had learned of King and the civil rights movement; but his own research this past year led to a deeper understanding of the economic equality King sought the last years of his life.

Ni, who plans to study public policy or political science in college, and perhaps run for office someday, sees King’s legacy in the passion and dedication that he and other young people show for systemic change.

“It definitely carries on what Martin Luther King set out to do, tackling issues in a logical way, in a peaceful way.”

Miranda Sheffield, 35, is a cultural arts commissioner in Pomona. (Courtesy of Miranda Sheffield)

‘We have to work’

On the heels of a nationwide call for social change, King’s message echoes louder than ever before, said Miranda Sheffield, a cultural arts commissioner in Pomona who helped organize demonstrations there over the summer.

“With everything that happened at the protests and the (Jan. 6) riot at the (U.S.) Capitol,” Sheffield said, “we need to listen to King’s words and demand change.”

New 5th Ward San Bernardino City Councilman Ben Reynoso is sworn in at San Bernardino City Hall on Wednesday, Dec. 16, 2020. (Photo by Cindy Yamanaka, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG)

San Bernardino City Councilman Ben Reynoso, who was in Mississippi with family when protesters began marching in communities across the nation following Floyd’s death, said he understood why so many felt compelled to unite.

“There’d been multiple times in my life when I’ve seen Black and brown people killed at the hands of police, or die in police custody,” said Reynoso. “When I was with family, I was reaching for understanding as an individual. For me, I had to be out near my mother and surrounded by people who understood and could express their emotions.

“What you saw this summer,” he added, “was a collection of people who couldn’t express their emotions in silence. They needed to express it publicly.”

The summer’s activism has a direct link to the civil rights movement King spearheaded in the 1950s and ’60s, Reynoso said.

“Martin Luther King understood narrative,” he said. “That’s why he was willing, and the young organizers around him were willing, to do things like sit in diners where people of color weren’t allowed, to be beat up on live TV. Because they knew America and the world wouldn’t understand what they were going through without seeing it.

Naomi Rainey-Pierson, the longtime president of Long Beach’s chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, said she applauds the work that younger people have been doing this past year, but added that protests alone won’t bring change.

“We have to not just stand up and scream, shout, holler and march when there is an outcry,” she said. “We have to continually march, we have to continually stand up, we have to continue using our voice. We have to stop pitting one group against the other.

“We have to work for equality and justice.”

In this file photo, Naomi Rainey-Pierson receives her honorary doctoral degree at Cal Sate Long Beach at the commencement for College of Liberal Arts on Wednesday, May 22, 2019. (Photo courtesy of Sean DuFrene, photographer for Cal State Long Beach)

Rainey-Pierson, a Black woman who grew up going to segregated schools in Mississippi, said injustice and inequality is nothing new, but that in order to follow King’s visions and goals, people must come together.

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“I commend all of the young people, of all colors and hues, marching, speaking, fighting and reaching out,” she said. “But we have to speak collectively for all: not just one race, not just one gender, but it has to be for all mankind because there’s an old saying, ‘For whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.’

That, Rainey-Pierson said, is what Martin Luther King stood for.

-on January 15, 2021 at 01:35PM by Brian Whitehead, Allyson Escobar, Emily Rasmussen, Javier Rojas, Theresa Walker

[thisdaynews]

BREAKING:Armed herdsmen defy lockdown, Terrorize Residents in Delta Towns

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/breakingarmed-herdsmen-defy-lockdown-terrorize-residents-in-delta-towns/

BREAKING:Armed herdsmen defy lockdown, Terrorize Residents in Delta Towns

NOTWITHSTANDING the security seal in Delta State, where Governor Ifeanyi Okowa, introduced a dusk-to-dawn curfew, Tuesday, to contain the Covid-19 pandemic, some suspected armed herdsmen have flagrantly undermined the security measures and unleashed a reign of terror on residents at Ibusa and Okpanam communities in Oshimili North Local Government Area of the oil-rich state.

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The armed herders between the ages of 18 to 28 years not only intimidate and overawe their victims, who they usually take unawares, they command them when they invade their homes to prepare meals for them (kidnappers). They also demand additional foodstuff and drinks when their families and friends later negotiate ransom to secure freedom for the hostages READ ALSO:Internet fraudster confesses on how he defrauded Cambodian woman $75,000 At Okpanam, a source revealed that occupants, near the Asaba Airport, have fled their houses, following the siege by kidnappers, who act as if they are above the laws of the land.

”Even when the owners of the homes have fled, they impudently break into their abandoned apartments in search of food items, money and other valuables,” the source added. The lawlessness of the herders is without restraint at the moment in the state, but effrontery at the Admiralty Neighbourhood Estate, Ibusa is unbelievable.

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The estate is named after a former Chief of Naval Staff, CNS, under the ex-President Goodluck Jonathan government, Admiral Dele Ezeoba, who owns a sprawling mansion in the under-attack developing area on Ibusa bypass, Asaba-Ibusa-Ogwashi-Uku Expressway.

More than 20 residents of the area that spoke to Saturday Vanguard in separate interviews during the week at Ibusa, said they were living with their hearts in the mouths. “They do not come through the entrance to the estate, they sneak in through the farmlands behind the developing neighbourhood.

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Those committing this havoc are in their teens and twenties,” one of them said. A worried contractor, Mr Lawrence Ojeashi, abducted about 9.00 pm , April 8, told our reporter: “I was outside in my compound playing with some of my children when we heard our dog barking uncontrollably. As I moved to check what was going on, two of them, Fulani, by the language they spoke, intercepted me.” “They marched me into my house, locked my son and I in one of the rooms and asked my family to prepare them food to eat. It was rice that my wife cooked for them , after eating rice, they asked her to make eba for them.

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“After eating, they took me with them, nobody had the guts to raise alarm. They were taking me to the bush when they saw a generator that was on in another compound, they pulled out the wire to make the owner come out, but his family raised alarm when they saw them, which made them to move away faster with me into the bush. “The way they meandered the bushes, it is like they have a map of the area. We first stopped at a farm hut and stayed there for over three hours. In fact, they used me as pillow to sleep so that I will not run away. “They woke up to continue the journey, manoeuvring through different routes in the forest. They clearly knew where they were going.

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When they got to the point where they knew it was safe to talk to me, they asked me how much I wanted to pay them. “Really, I had no money and a bank alert of N1,000 just came to my phone, which they had confiscated. I told them that they just saw the alert on my phone, that I had only N1,000. They slapped me, asking me if I thought they were joking. “They threatened to kill me if I joked with them. I said I could call some friends and relatives. They became interested and inquired how much they would pay.

I said I did not know, but they might raise up to N100,000. They pounced on me again like wounded lions, shouting angrily if I thought they took me hostage for mere N100,000. “My abductors subsequently took me to a valley, brought out sticks and started whipping me on my head and other parts of the body as if they were flogging an animal. They kept asking about how much I would pay as they flogged me.

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“I insisted that they should allow me call my friends and relatives, but one of them said they should cut off my head and the other brought a sharp cutlass, placed it on my throat and made moves as if he actually wanted to slice off my head. I pleaded with them that money would come before they left me that period and went to sleep. “About 6.00 am the next day, they took me further into the bush, deeper into the valley and they allowed me to make phone call. “They first placed the ransom for my release at N10 million and later came down to N3 million when they saw from my calls that such amount would not come.

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I knew that pastors and many others were interceding at that point. “At about 3.00 pm, they said they were giving me and my people a deadline of 5.00 pm to bring ransom. By 5.00 pm when they called, it was N150,000 that they raised. “The kidnappers said they would tell them where to bring the ransom, but they should buy food, drinks, Suya, water as they come with the ransom. “They were giving them directives on phone on where to pass as they drove. When they arrived with a car, they searched each of the person that brought the ransom and the car for money. They also checked the food and drinks they brought.

“They brought me out from where they hid me and joined us in the car to be dropped off at another exit. We saw some herders on the way and they exchanged pleasantries , showing that they knew themselves. “They took us through a different route entirely to leave the place so that we would not recognise the place,” Ojeashi told us. He was still in fears when he spoke. A resident of the estate, Emmanuel Ironbar, abducted with four others, March 30, said he was returning home with his Supervisor and another worker, all working for their boss , Frank Nwabudike, when the incident occurred.

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“We saw a vehicle facing the bush and a boy lying face down and we thought he was hurt. As we stopped to find out what was wrong, the kidnappers lurking around pointed gun at us , along the farm road. Two of them wore mask , they seized me, my supervisor, Victor and two others. We were five. “They took the five of us into the bush, we were seeing the zincs of some buildings at Okpanam and the Navy School in Ibusa from where they kept us. They asked all of us to lie down when we got there and used my phone to call my director in Lagos.

“They were the ones telling me after they called my director that he said there was no money. They beat Victor and one other hostage before Victor people brought N100,000 ransom. They searched my supervisor and took the N30,000 in his possession. “When they brought the N100,000 ransom for them, it was with plates of rice, meat and ‘pure’ water. They later took us to a cassava farm, they saw a motorcycle rider, bailed him up and collected N5,000 from him.

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“They ran into a Benin man and his wife, who they kidnapped and left us that night. They seized my phone and since then, I have not been able to buy a new phone,” he added. His words: “We are living in fear in this estate, we are not secure, police come in the night since abduction escalated in this estate, they blow horn when they pass from one end to the other, reverse their car, come back to where they started and depart.” “As I speak to you, I hardly sleep in my house for fear of abduction by Fulani herdsmen, we know they are Fulani because that is the language they speak,” he added. Another resident, Ebenezer Ejimogha, a timber dealer, who escaped abduction after armed herdsmen pulled the wire off his generator, April 8, asserted:

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“As they removed the wire, I came out from inside my room and asked one of my sons to put off the generator since it could not supply light anymore. But one of my daughters ran inside to alert me that they were intruders in our compound.” “I want out to peep, they saw me and ordered me to open the door and let them in. Already, my wife was shouting and my family was making phone calls. I used force to close and lock my door and started making calls myself. While they were threatening and went to the back of my house, trying to force the door open, I told them Army and Police would soon arrive to catch them.

“I got my son in Asaba on phone , who drove down and went to the Police Station at Ibusa for policemen to come to rescue us. They asked him to make entry, after he made entry, they told him that they would not be able to come that night. He contacted one of the local vigilance groups, which told him that the members would not intervene since police refused to move. “We were in the house frightened to our pants for five hours when my son, tired of the antics of the police, finally drove to the house to discover that the marauding Fulani herdsmen had left. It was when we heard his voice asking us to come out that the abductors were gone that we came out,” Ejimogha said.

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A community leader in the area, Mr Joseph Okonmah told our reporter: “Life here has been very miserable for us because of Fulani herdsmen. We know they are Fulani herdsmen from the narratives of the victims they have kidnapped, people from at least five households. Really, we feel frightened, we do not sleep with our two eyes closed.” Okonmah stated, “We have reported our plight to the the police in Ibusa and alerted some of the vigilance groups, but there is no good response from the police.” “We plead with the the appropriate authorities and government to disarm the herdsmen and disperse them from the illegal locations they are occupying in the bush and inside the town from where they launch attacks on us every now and then,” the community leader asserted.

[void-king-of-swingttv]

Here’s an old thing I wrote a while back as a plot bunny that kinda died.

Why we did it

It was a normal day at Shithole High as my friends and I sat as our table at lunch, today’s meal of… some kind of meat or something (mine was currently having a staredown with the person sitting behind me) flying over our heads like a slimy Fourth of July fireworks show. In a normal school, a teacher would be all over this stuff, stopping it and doling out detentions by the handful. But this was my school. Teachers couldn’t care less about just about anything short of a stabbing. Not that it happened before, and I dare you to find a legal document that says otherwise. The current supervisor was sitting by an open window, lit cigarette between his fingers, puffing like a broken car.

So it was just the same old routine at Shithole High.

Okay that wasn’t it’s actual name, but it may as well have been, and because I’m just telling you how we took over the world, I can call anyone anything I want.

So where was I?... Oh yes, that fateful conversation.

”He said what?” My friend to the right said, and shall henceforth be called Timothy. He was the joker of the group, and is the most perverted man to walk the earth. Yes, I said is. This question was directed at quite possibly the most energetic person in this, or any galaxy, who shall be called Grove. “It’s true, he said he was running for president is 2020. It’s ridiculous.” If you have any knowledge of that year, or the preceding years, you probably know what she’s talking about. If not, she’s talking about a rap star becoming the Commander in Chief. Yeah.

“Pointless, and unneeded.” the third in my septuplet of friends plugged in. She was soft spoken, angry all the time, and one of the exchange students the school received from Japan. Her name was Yukki, but due to the hairstyle she always had, we called her Cousin It. She didn’t mind. “Makes good news.”

“That’s not the point!” Timothy said, making excited hand gestures while speaking. “The point is that the government is getting lenient to the point of lazy. Literally anyone can run for president these days, and they just let them.” “The problem is nobody cares anymore.” Said my brother. Okay, we’re not actually brothers, but we may as well be from how long we’ve been friends. “People are just happy that they can make money, and put food on the table. They don’t care who runs things they have no say in.” he said in his unplaceable tone of voice. Really, even to this day, I can’t tell how he feels from his voice until he reaches a breaking point, and really turns it up to eleven. A nice guy generally, and loves complimenting women on just about anything. He just can’t tell when a girl likes him when she’s practically falling over for him. His name is now and forever, Ray.

“That’s everyone on earth, Ray.” Our friend, with the nickname Dren, which I am aware just spells nerd in reverse, but she asked me to call her that in the book, so shut up and deal with it. She was a happy little geek, with a love for anime and Yaoi. And if you Google that shit, I will find you and break your keyboard across your hands.

I told you not to Google it! No, you will not forget it!

So, continuing from that little snag in narrative, the conversation, they looked to the last two of the group: myself, and my girlfriend. Yes, she is your current Empress. No, she was not always taller than me. She used to be about a foot shorter than me. Calm, brilliant, beautiful, and a mouth like a drunken sailor, I was lucky to have her back then, and I’m lucky to have her now. Oh, my Misery...

...Sorry, I drifted off for a second. She just looked at them and gave her usual response of a shrug and a look that said “It’s-physically-impossible-for-me-to-care-any- less-than-I-do-now” and looked at me for my opinion. I just grinned, and then the fate of the world was decided.

“I think we could run things better than just about anyone. Now or ever.”

...What? Were you expecting some great tragedy that led to us ruling the world? No, we did it on our own time because we wanted to. It’s not my fault that I was right when I said that.

So, after a quick giggle, and a few bites of my friend’s packed lunch (The one on my tray was now trying to grab me by the nose), we all just froze. We came to the same realization at the same time. And the real fun began. Dren started us off. “So, theoretically, how would you take over the world?” Timothy answered first. “I would just wipe out everything, and rebuild society on top of it.” It was a simple plan. Short, sweet, and to the point. Not extremely good in the long run, but effective. Grove was next with her basic strategy. “Hostile takeover. Leave everything, just capture it all.” Not as simple, but equally effective. And as a plus, society doesn’t have to start over afterwards. Yukki’s only word on the subject was an infuriating, “Magic.”

I can’t stand when the only response people will give about something that falls into the category of ‘unknown’, is a simple ‘magic’. No, that’s not how it works. We live in a world where cause has effect, A is equal to A, and things don’t happen because so. Every question has an answer, and we will find them. Why else do you think we turned the moon into a giant research facility?

Back on subject, Ray was next with his conquering plan. “A quiet, diplomatic style. It’ll take longer, but I’ll win the people, and the world.” Complex, challenging, high risk, but even higher reward. Just like him: win by not pissing anyone off. He would always do his best not to make anyone mad. Now, he loves doing it. Now it was my turn to plan.

“Quietly fund terrorist groups to cause as much trouble as possible. Then repeatedly quash them, winning the adoration of the people. Then, once there is enough chaos in the world, and the people are willing to accept their security in exchange for their freedom, I will accept the power, and forever end chaos and strife in the world.” And as you can tell, it worked.

I can tell that some of you are understandably upset at this. But if I can offer a counterargument: It was 6000 years ago. Well 6398 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, 22 hours, and 53 seconds ago. Your sort of late to the “Get pissed at the current Galactic Emperor” party. Besides, we haven't had a war of any kind in almost 5,000 years.  

After I said my plan, they all gave me a look that said ‘You’ve-been-planning-this-for-a-while-haven't-you?’ and to that I say ‘Maybe’. So with that, Misery put her two cents into the machine and turned the dial. “Whatever works, really.” The tried and true ‘Do-whatever-needs-to-be-done’ tactic. Proven to work by dictators throughout history. If you plan on saying otherwise, look at the various dictators of the Silver Ages, and tell me that at least one of them planned to be put in the big boy chair at some point.

That was when things got serious. I put on my business face and addressed the group. “Okay, let’s get down to it. We can take the world anytime we want, can’t we?” They nodded. “Then let’s do it. Let’s take over the world.” I got some incredulous looks for a minute, before they all broke out in grins that would make ol’ Mr Grinch’s hair curl, and raised their glasses high. Well, lifted their milk cartons above their heads. “A world without war!”

“Without hate!”

“Without suffering!”

“Without danger!”

“Without sickness!”

“Without sadness!”

I simply raised my fist.

“Without pain.”

[rudemann1-blog]

Gordon Parks  Introduction:  I was aware of Gordon Park because of his movies, The Learning Tree, Shaft, and  Shaft’s Big Score, but not so much with his photographic background and his influence on so many.  I find it ironic that we had so much in common.  When younger, 15 or so, my interest in photography began with flashcube camera.  I remember my first opportunity to photograph a young woman in her swimsuit, she was probably only 18 at the time.  I knew very little about lighting and soon became aware the power of her lamp on the table was more powerful than my cube flash and just her legs were showing in the photo, took me nearly 2 weeks to confess.  That was the beginning of my taking photography serious.  Started reading materials and soon became interested in black and white and after obtaining my first true 35mm camera, a Pentax, I was soon on my way. Joined military in 1968 and while stationed in Turkey, took lots of pictures.  Next tour in Okinawa, provided me an opportunity to learn from the base photographer and became interested in shooting slides and processing.  After my return to the Illuminating company, I introduced myself to the in-house darkroom specialist, Master’s Degree from RIT, and he allowed me to observe him at his work.  When he decided to retire, I was given the job.  Had a large enlarger that used 10x10” negatives and also I could convert it to a copy camera which allowed me to produce images up to 8’ on 40” wide paper. My next chance was at NASA started in black and white department but later progressed to processing all film from 1985 to 1997 before digital imaging eliminated the job.  I am re-energized after this research to improve on my photography. The same problems of racism have also hindered me from advancing because I had no degree they felt that I could work for less. I too loved to shoot landscapes, models, weddings, parties and whatever came my way.  I thoroughly enjoyed the research as it came to show me how little progress has been made in race relations and social issues.  Things seem to be getting worse instead of better.  This research reflected the numerous times Gordon would approach agencies unannounced and impressed them with his work which allowed him opportunities to have his work published and appreciated.  His primary goal was to expose the injustices around the world concerning the poor and less fortunate.  His choice of weapons were his camera and the pen, which later became the title of one his autobiographies. One of my favorite quotes by Gordon was “The important thing is not so much what you suffered – or didn’t suffer – but how you put that learning to use”. History: Gordon Roger Alexander Buchanan Parks was born in Fort Scott, Kansas on November 20, 1912 and died of cancer on March 7, 2006 at the age of 93. His father was Andrew Jackson Parks a dirt farmer his mother Sarah Ross a maid.  Gordon was considered a creative genius as he excelled in many exploits;  photographer, filmmaker, author, and composer.  The youngest of fifteen children, Gordon rose from a childhood of poverty in a segregated society and used his talents to better the world around him. When his mother died in 1928, he was only 15 years old.. The family was bound by Sarah’s strong conviction that dignity and hard work could overcome the bigotry they faced. His mother’s final request was to send him north to Minnesota to live with his sister, and before the flowers on her grave wilted, his father put him on a train. “Just follow your mother’s teachings and you will be alright” was his father’s departing words. Shortly after his move, his brother-in-law evicted him and he was homeless in the 30 below temperatures and with no job.  For nearly a week he spent his nights riding the trolley line from St. Paul to Minneapolis and back again. He barely survived by playing piano in a brothel and washing dishes at a dingy restaurant.  Parks attended a segregated elementary school and in high school he attended was integrated they maintained discriminatory policies toward black students. They could not attend any social functions nor compete in sports.  He quit high school after the Great Depression set in. While working as a waiter on the North Coast Limited, a transcontinental train that ran between St. Paul and Chicago and Seattle.  In a magazine left on the train he found pictures taken by photographers of the Farm Security Administration, FSA set up by President Roosevelt to aid submarginal farmers.  These images depicted “stark, tragic images of human beings caught up in the confusion of poverty. He began to read more about photography and to visit museums, to study the work of others. Soon he bought his first camera:  a $7.50 Voightlender Brilliant, a 35mm.  The camera was to become his weapon against poverty and racism.  Parks’s first photographs immediately attracted the attention of the Eastman Kodak Company which sponsored a showing of Park’s pictures in the company show windows. While still in Minnesota Park’s approached Frank Murphy, who owned a women’s store in St. Paul to photograph their fashions.  When asked if he could, he lied.  Even though he had no samples of his work, his wife decided to give him a chance.  When she asked him how many models he wanted, he said three models and six outfits.  The following evening  he arrived with lights and a highly sophisticated camera that he borrowed, and nervously went to work.  Not only was Madeline and her husband impressed, but so was Gordon, until after developing the film, all but one exposure was double-exposed.  Owing honesty, two mornings later when the owners arrived a large print of the one good exposure stood in front of the store on an easel.  She was really excited and invited him in to view the others.  After confessing, she asked him would all of the others would have been as good, he stated “that’s probably the worst”.  She gave him another chance and the pictures were so impressive that Joe Louis’s wife, Marva Louis urged him to move to Chicago, where he photographed fashions and did portraits for both black and white clients. In Chicago he documented the devastating effects of poverty.  When Parks won a Julius Rosenwald Fellowship in 1941, the first ever awarded in photography, he arranged for an apprenticeship at the FSA in Washington, DC.  Parks and his family were not prepared for the racism encountered upon their arrival.  Roy Emerson Stryker, his supervisor suggested with Ella Watson, an African Ameerican cleaning woman who worked in the building.  Parks took a series of photos of Watson and her family.  The most famous image was of her standing in front of an American flag with a mop in one hand and a broom in the other.   Later, titled “ American Gothic” which referenced Grant Wood’s 1930 painting of the same name. This was Parks’s first official FSA photo and became one of photography’s iconic images. Parks was in an angry mood when he asked the woman to pose, having earlier been refused service at a clothing store, a movie theater and a restaurant. He was the first African American photographer to work for Life and Vogue magazines and the first to work for the Office of War Information and the Farm Security Administration. Gordon’s son, Gordon Parks Jr, was also a dedicated photographer, but decided on changing his name to Gordon Rogers, because his accomplishments have been mistakenly credited to his father.  When Gordon was making the Learning Tree, Gordon Jr .worked as a cameraman and in 1972 he directed Superfly 1972and other films during the blaxploitation films of the early 70’s.  In 1979 tragedy struck as he had just landed an independent production company, died in a plane crash in an aborted takeoff on the runway of the Nairobi Airport.  Even in death, reports on radio and newspaper accounts had mistakenly reported that it was Gordon Sr., and bibliographical accounts still  often confuse the two men In 1933 when invited to join an orchestra .Parks moved back to Harlem, yet the group disbanded almost immediately and once again was without a job.  After making a few deliveries for a dope dealer, he joined the Civilian Conservative Corps (CCC) planting trees and clearing camping grounds and beaches until 1934.  Soon Parks married Sally Alvis and moved back to Minneapolis and had three children, Gordon Parks Jr. Toni, and David. Gordon’s book “Half Past Autumn” is a retrospective compilation of his life’s work starting with the early years and other photographs of Harlem Gangs, Fashion and crime. In 1943 southern senators were upset with the numerous files crammed with America’s poor and dispossessed amounted in the government’s indictment of itself and was soon abolished and absorbed into the Office of War Information.  In the second year of World War II, unrest was building in black military quarters when distinguished leader Colonel Benjamin O. Davis was charged with the black 99th Pursuit Squadron where they were trained and sent overseas.  Then later transferred to Selfridge Field near Detroit, Michigan.   Soon Gordon was assigned as war correspondent.  His duties was to cover the group in training and during flights.  After a quick breakfast, at 6:00, was soon airborne with young black fighters getting ready for a fight with Adolph Hitler’s Lultwaffle. Fashion In 1944 while continuing to work for the Office of War information, he decided to take a cheap room at the YMCA and began to look for work.  He abruptly entered office of Harper’s Bazaar, but was told that being a Hearst organization, forbid Negroes from being hired.  Soon afterwards, Roy Striker advised him to go to Vogue.  He was selected to photograph a collection of the season’s finest evening gowns.  Five years later he continued to appear in Vogue. In 1948 after several good years at Vogue, his courage led him to Life magazine and after viewing his work, asked him what he would like to do, he replied, fashion and gang wars up in Harlem. While searching for a way to gain access to a gang, he stumbled on Red Jackson, a 16 year old Harlem gang leader.  When he mentioned that he want to photograph his gang.  Red asked him “why in the hell would I want a Life magazine photographer following him around”.   He offered as a suggestion to drive him around in his Buick which convinced Red to allow him to photograph his gang.  Three months later when preparing his essay for publication in Life Magazine.  He objected to the cover that they chose.  It was of a smoking gun in Red’s hand and it could have sent him to prison.  He reclaimed the negative and cut it into pieces because of the trust grown between them. At times Gordon suggested that there was a better way of life for him.  But Red was too caught up in the Harlem gang life. Forty years later while at Penn Station they once again met and Red went on for an hour rehashing the fearful days of his youth.  Upon parting, Red suggested they could go back up there and save those kids in Harlem.   Fashion led him once again to Paris during the 50’s, where his photos were admired of the poor, and the different scenery he captured. Gordon published 14 books:  Flash Photography, Camera Portraits, The Learning Tree, A Choice of Weapons, A Poet and his Camera, Born Black, Whispers of Intimate things, In Love, Moments without Proper Names, Flavio, To Smile in Autumn, Shannon, Voices in the Mirror, Arias in Silence. From the Arias in Silence is a compilation of his later works which combined his artistry with poetry, water color and his addition of digital images.  Each image expressed the need for him to accept life gracefully – without trembling at the inevitability of his departure. SUMMATION:  Following my research,  I found it interesting that he died of cancer in 2006 at the age of 93 which gives me strength and I will attempt to read whatever I can get my hands on.  I watched The Learning Tree, Shaft and read the book, Half past Autumn.   I hope my representation of my attempt to replicate his works is not lacking the interpretation of his volume of photographs.   Thanks for your attention and hopefully I shared items that were of interest.

[valiantlyholyllama-blog]

Planet Headlines As well as Review Coming from The Guardian.

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