#yesterday when i was walking i heard some like rabble from what i think is dogs? idk it was a lot of that

[meatplatter]

living in the middle of the swamp really desensitizes you to random noises in the middle of the night

[alengmae]

Rabble Drabble #II

Dessert: The gang finds out that Penelope bakes after getting some the before. Some are happy with this knowledge, and someone is not. 

Eloise took a big mouthful at her caramel espresso cupcake and groaned at the decadence. If she can marry this particular cupcake, she would in a heartbeat. She licked the drizzle of caramel that spilled on the side. Maybe she’ll marry Penelope instead. It’s a shame she doesn’t swing that way. Her best friend was in love with the wrong Bridgerton anyway. But as long as she had access to these desserts, she’s not going to complain...much. 

“Oh my. This is sinful,” Daphne exclaimed after a bite. She was going to give her husband a portion of her cupcake but she decided against it after the initial bite. 

“You missed yesterday’s batch,” Benedict mumbled as tried to find the tiny morsels that fell on his shirt. “Pen made this Mint Chocolate cake and it ruined all cakes for me.” 

“I’m going to come over everyday,” Daphne declared. 

“Don’t you, already?” Kate ribbed her lightly, earning herself a high-five from her husband. 

“Why is she writing again? She should pursue baking full time.” Simon stole half of his wife’s dessert, much to her indignation. 

“Are there any more? I’m pregnant. I deserve two of them,” Daphne whined. 

“You are out of luck. Colin got to them first,” Anthony replied as he sipped his tea. “Also, why are you all always over at my house?”

Colin only smirked as he ate this third cupcake, completely ignoring his eldest brother’s complaints. “Penelope said I can have as many as I want.” 

“Of course, she’d say that to you,” Benedict mumbled underneath his breath. 

“Won’t she make more?” the pregnant woman despaired.

Kate pushed a plate of biscuits in her direction. It was store-bought. Compared to Penelope’s creation, it tasted like sweet cardboard but it’s the thought that counted, right? “She doesn’t bake everyday, babe.” 

Eloise nonchalantly added, “Oh I think we’ll be seeing more of her baking in the coming days.” 

“Ooh, how’s that?” Benedict asked eagerly. 

“I just taught her how to use Bumble,” Eloise gleefully announced while casting a fleeting glance at Colin. If her clueless third brother choked on his food, it only added to her enjoyment. 

“Wait, what?” asked a confused Kate. 

“You see, I have this running theory. There is a strong correlation between the success of Penelope’s dates and the quality of her baking the next day. And she didn’t come home the other night until it was very, very late.” 

“Are you saying that she bakes whenever she gets some?” Simon asked, almost whispering the latter end of his question. 

“Precisely.” 

Colin’s face turned an interesting shade of greenish pallor. He even stopped mid-bite. Maybe he’ll finally get a clue, Eloise mused. 

Daphne side-eyed her Colin then said, “I don’t mind it. Good for her, and even better for us. You think she’ll take requests?”

“You wish. I’ve been conditioning her to make me my Black Forest cake since last week. I’ve been reciting Black Forest cake in her sleep for a week now. Me first. I’m the best friend.”

“Then, the Mint Chocolate cake?” Benedict wondered aloud. 

“Her date was an Australian firefighter,” Eloise explained. “And she said that he can stoke a fire too, if you know what I mean.”  The other two women in the room gushed, while the men rolled their eyes. 

Colin grew increasingly quiet, not even touching the food in front of him. His hands were balled into a fist. His brows furrowed so closely together, she thought they would stick permanently into an angry monobrow. Eloise kinda felt bad, but not as much as she enjoyed pushing his buttons. 

“When is she going for another date?” Daphne egged on. 

“Tonight, I think. She’s going on another date with the Aussie fireman. I already bought all the ingredients for my cake.” 

At this, Colin stood up and briskly walked out of the room. 

Fucking finally. Eloise sniffed her exasperation away. If an Australian fireman gave her the Caramel Espresso cupcake, she could just imagine what Penelope will make with her long-time crush. Although she cringed internally at the thought of her brother and her best friend coupling up, she’d rather focus on the good outcome. Her Black Forest cake. 

The next day, Eloise woke up extra early in high anticipation. She drove to her brother’s place, a cup of strong coffee in hand. Daphne, Simon, Kate and Anthony were already there, patiently waiting. Benedict was still on the way. 

After an hour of waiting, Penelope was still nowhere to be seen. She had no choice but to call her friend. Pen answered on the third ring. 

“Hey,” Penelope responded breathlessly to her greeting.

“Hey, where are you?”

“I’m at...home,” Penelope answered with a giggle. Eloise heard a familiar voice in the background before Pen hushed him up. 

“Ugh. Put Colin on the phone!” 

“What?” he barked at her. 

Eloise put her brother in a loudspeaker. A  chorus of boos from the peanut gallery filled the air, drowning Colin’s laughter. 

“Where’s my cake?” Eloise furiously demanded. 

“We’re very busy at the moment.” 

“Ew! You leave her alone to make my cake, you slut!” Eloise bit out. 

“Make me,” Colin smarmily said before he hung up. 

“I should have known he’d fuck it up for us,” Benedict griped. 

A beat of silence passed before Kate opened her cupboard and produced a packet of biscuits. Everyone groaned. 

[rika90]

Die Reise des Raben Chapter 2

Kaz Brekker x female reader

warnings: violence, death, swearing

word count: 2.8k

A/N: Hey, I'm back! Thank you so much for reading and liking chapter 1! Every like made my day. So here is the second part. Please tell me what you think.

When Kaz came to, he was completely disoriented. The last thing he could remember was a black figure that –. Kaz jumped up and looked around. No one to be seen. He collapsed back on the bed, his head was swimming. Everything came rushing back to him. The plague, Hertzoon, the scam and…Jordie. Kaz' whole body shook and he made a mad dash for the bathroom to retch. Afterwards he sank to the floor and took deep, calming breaths.

When he came back into the room, he noticed a small table next to the bed. There Kaz discovered dry clothes – was the sweater orange?! – as well as some food and water. He stared at the things; thoughts were racing in his head. There was no way the girl in the black coat had dragged him out of the harbour and brought him here. Why should she do such a thing? And then get him something to eat and drink? Nobody in the barrel does anything out of sheer friendliness, Kaz had learned that by now.

'Maybe she took me to her boss,' Kaz thought. The growl of his stomach tore him from his thoughts. No matter how and why he had ended up there, he would take the opportunity to strengthen himself and put on some dry clothes. After that he would tail out from here.

It was early afternoon when Kaz opened the door and peeked around the corner. He could hear muffled voices and the occasional shouting, but not a single person. He stepped out and slowly walked down the long hallway until he came to the stairwell. If he hadn’t known better, he would have guessed he was in one of the boarding houses in the barrel. His suspicion was confirmed when he got downstairs and saw a small reception desk.

The man behind the counter was reading a newspaper and didn't notice Kaz.

Kaz considered his options. He could go unnoticed or speak to the man and maybe find out something about the strange girl. Kaz sincerely hoped no one had seen the two of them enter the building yesterday.

"Excuse me, can you tell me who rented room 404?" Kaz asked.

The man lowered the newspaper. "Why should I tell you this, boy?"

"Well, I helped this girl home last night after a party but forgot to ask for her name. She's not in her room and I really need to see her again," Kaz groaned inwardly. He definitely still had to practice lying.

The man smiled lustfully and showed his rotten teeth. "Pretty thing, huh? It's a shame I wasn't on night duty yesterday."

Kaz shuddered.

The man looked at a list and said: "Mia Frey, it says here. The room was paid for two more days this morning. Hey, if you're lucky, she'll come back later."

"Okay, thanks," Kaz said and turned away. She wouldn't come back. She had left the key in the room when she left. Had she paid the two days for him? And was Mia Frey her real name anyway? Someone who walks around masked at night would hardly give their real name, would they?

Kaz still spent the day asking around if anyone knew Mia Frey. But, surprise, nobody knew her. But when he asked for a person with a raven mask, a barman advised him not to look for the Rabe.

"If you see him uninvited, you're as good as dead."

"Him?" Kaz asked.

"Well, no woman could ever slaughter an entire gang, “laughed the barman, then suddenly fell silent and looked around. "I shouldn't be talking about him at all. You never know who's listening," he muttered and went back to washing the glasses.

Kaz returned to the boarding house room that evening and found food and a note. She had been here! But how had she gotten into the room? He had kept the key with him the whole time. 'Apparently she is a contract killer, she’s probably able to pick a lock,' Kaz thought. He unfolded the note. 100 Kruge fell out. He picked it up and read the note on the slip of paper.

Stop looking for me. Don't make me regret saving your life. I can easily take it from you again. And buy yourself something decent to wear - you look terrible in orange.

- R

Kaz grinned, she had been watching him. Probably to silence him if he said too much. But he wasn't going to do that anyway. He wouldn't tell anyone about his encounter with Rabe. And he was pretty sure he wouldn't find her unless she wanted to. Still, he was sure that he would see her again. Perhaps one day she would come to collect his life debt, or she would

come to kill him at someone else's behest. Because what Kaz planned to do with his future would make him many enemies. The now well-known anger ran through Kaz. Pekka Rollins would pay. He would destroy him.

Brick by brick.

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Over the years to come, (Y/N) watched from a distance as Kaz struggled and took on any job that made him money. Really anyone, no matter how dirty it was. He joined the Dregs, a small, insignificant gang, and quickly rose in ranks through his intelligence and ruthlessness. He gave the Dregs a standing and money. And build a reputation for himself.

Dirtyhands was quickly known as someone not to mess with. There wasn't much left to be seen of the frail boy (Y/N) had fished out of the harbour. Kaz Brekker had become a handsome man who could instil fear just by his demeanour.

The sun was just rising, and (Y/N) was sitting on 5th Harbour after a long night in the Ketterdam nightlife. It was already busy, and (Y/N) was amazed once again what Kaz had made of this neglected pier.

"Speaking of the devil," (Y/N) muttered when she saw none other than Kaz himself standing further down the docks talking to one of the captains. As always when she caught a glimpse of him, her breath caught. He was a real feast for the eyes. He always wore tailored suits, a hat, cane, and gloves. Gloves so he didn't have to touch anyone directly.

"Maybe you kept an eye on him a little more closely than planned," whispered a soft voice in (Y/N)'s head. She turned and headed home to get some sleep before her late night shift at the waffle shop.

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She had long since noticed the thugs who followed her. She walked briskly to lure them into a secluded back alley, where she could kill the guys without causing a stir. (Y/N) sighed. 'Couldn't one just enjoy their end of work in peace?' She had been on her way back from her late shift at the waffle shop when she realized she was being followed. That was the reason why she usually volunteered for the late shift. The other girls would be easy prey for the

smugglers and the rabble that hung around the barrel at night.

When (Y/N) turned into the dead end, she ran to the end and then turned to the five men in mock desperation. Her big brown eyes looked around with uncertainty and she certainly gave a very believable picture of the frightened girl the men expected.

"Well, Missy, what are you doing out here alone so late? Don't you know it's dangerous?" one of the men sneered. The others laughed.

'Just laugh. As long as you still can,' (Y/N) thought. With a fake tremble in her voice, she called out to the strangers: "What do you want from me?"

The men had to come a little further into the alley so she could be sure that no one escaped

and could talk about her. No loose ends. She wanted to keep her harmless and lowkey appearance.

"Oh, we'll take you to our boss and he'll sell you to one of the brothels. You can't withhold such a pretty ass from the world," (Y/N) inwardly rolled her eyes. The guys wouldn't be a great loss to humanity.

The apparent leader stretched out his hand to her, he was sure of his cause, and it never occurred to him that she might be able to defend herself. He made it almost a little too easy for her. A cold smile crept onto her face and in the last second before his death the man realized his fatal mistake. Like so many before him, he had underestimated her.

(Y/N) rammed her dagger right into his heart. Pulled it out again in a flash and threw it directly into the throat of the next guy. The first slumped lifelessly to the floor, the second grabbed his neck while blood ran from his mouth. (Y/N) used the moment of surprise and rammed the elbow into the face of the man closest to her so hard he went down groaning and passed out. The other two woke from their trance and came running towards her. A gun would be too loud and would only draw unnecessary attention. 'So old school,' (Y/N) thought. She dodged the men, ducked under them, and used her speed to get behind them. She kicked the bigger of the two in the back of the knee so he buckled down and then slit his

throat from behind. In the meantime, the last guy standing had realized the gravity of the situation and pulled a pistol.

"Game over, doll, our boss will –."

A shot echoed through the alley and the last man fell to the ground. (Y/N) put her revolver back in her pocket.

"Saints, how did you survive in the barrel for so long? First rule: don't hesitate. Men. Always loving to hear themselves talk," (Y/N) muttered as she stepped over the motionless body. She went to the man she had only knocked unconscious to end him too. No loose ends. As she passed, she pulled her dagger out of the neck of the guy who was staring up at her with wide, empty eyes and saw the mark of the Dime Lions on the lower neck.

'Shit,' (Y/N) thought.

That is when she noticed something was wrong. She could feel a tingling sensation on her neck. A clear sign she was being watched.

But where was her persecutor hiding?

She also took care of the last man, wiped her daggers clean on his shirt and let her gaze wander unobtrusively through the alley and over the roofs when she got up. Bingo. Something had moved on the roof. Hardly noticeable. (Y/N) put her daggers away and strolled towards the main road, then turned around in a flash and fired at the figure on the roof.

She had no hope of having fired a fatal shot – the target was too difficult to see for that. She heard a cry of pain that confirmed she at least hit them and simultaneously gave away their exact position. She had to hurry, even in the barrel shots did not go unnoticed for long. (Y/N) reloaded, finger on the trigger as a yell cut her off.

"Stop!"

(Y/N) whirled around; the hand that held the revolver still pointed at the figure on the roof. But in her other hand she was now holding one of her very long daggers and aimed it at the man who was standing a few meters away at the entry of the alley.

'Wow, twice in a day,' was (Y/N)'s only thought.

"I’d prefer you not killing my wraith. I am sure we can find a solution that everyone can live with."

There he stood, leaning on his cane, in his tailored suit, staring steadily at (Y/N).

Kaz fucking Brekker.

The only person (Y/N) would ever hesitate for, hoping he would never become one of her loose ends.

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Kaz was a businessman, he seized opportunities when they presented themselves to him. This opportunity was too good to miss. Kaz had seen her before. Moreover, it would have been really hard not to notice her. She was tall, with long dark hair curling over her shoulders and brown eyes that seemed to see right into a person's core. She had a pretty face and curves that would surely have made Aunt Helen good money. But Kaz was sure that no brothel had yet counted her among its attractions. She walked through the barrel far too carefree for that.

It was strangely fascinating. She tried not to blend in with the crowd as to not attract attention. She walked the streets with seemingly innate self-confidence that gave her an aura of inviolability. She was someone to be noticed. That’s why Kaz had noticed the girl, when two drunk and howling men had followed her down a side alley. He had been tempted to follow them and help the girl, but if she walked through this part of Ketterdam alone at night, she was probably a lost cause anyway.

The next day the bodies of the two pigeons had been found dead and the girl had walked the streets without a scratch on herself. On the same day, Kaz had told Inej to gather information on her. Anne Reed worked as a waitress in one of the waffle shops from time to time, went out to party and occasionally visited her grandparents in the countryside. Except for the fact that she could keep pushy guys at bay with a good chin hook, she seemed like a perfectly normal girl.

And this very girl has just been followed by five Dime Lions. Kaz wanted to see what would happen. Inej was supposed to keep an eye on what was happening from the rooftop while he looked around the corner of the alley with a mirror. In his wildest dreams he couldn’t have expected what he would see then. She was amazing. She lured the men into the trap and then struck mercilessly. Within minutes all five Dime Lions were dead, and the girl was walking away as if nothing had happened. Kaz turned away to quickly disappear into one of the empty house entrances.

When he heard the shot followed by Inej's cry of pain, his heart almost stopped. How did she discover Inej? It was impossible. He ran back to the alley, knowing that the girl could kill Inej.

"Stop!" Kaz shouted and a second later found himself at the point of a sword – or abnormally long dagger? – again. He hadn't planned any further. The girl hesitated, although she had just said that one should never hesitate and looked at him with a mixture of surprise and anger. Kaz used her hesitation.

"I’d prefer you not killing my wraith. I am sure we can find a solution that everyone can live with," he emphasizes the word live.

"Then tell your wraith if she even thinks of throwing one of her knives, you're dead, Brekker. She should come down from the roof."

"Inej, dear, if you can walk, please come down to us," turning to the girl he continued: "You know me, that saves us the introductions. I'm here to make you an offer."

Kaz actually wanted to come up with a plan first and then try to recruit her for the Dregs. It is always better to negotiate when you have leverage. But he didn't have the time and luxury now. He had to use the only advantage he had. The fact that she hadn't killed him right away. Something made her hesitate. Whether it was his reputation or something else didn't matter. He would think about that later.

"Everyone in the barrel knows you and I am not interested in any offer from you," the girl replied coolly as she kept an eye on Inej, who was limping around the corner. 'Just a graze, she'll survive,' (Y/N) noted.

"We could use someone like you in the Dregs. You'd have a room, always enough food and the protection of the Dregs," Kaz continued undeterred.

"What makes you think I need anyone's protection?" she asked; looking from her dagger to Kaz.

"It is only a matter of time before Rollin misses his boys here and finds out that the girl, they were supposed to bring to him, is still walking merrily through the barrel. You messed with the Dime Lions. You are good, I admit, but you can hardly take on a whole gang alone. We can help you."

"Oh, and you do that out of the utmost charity? Hardly likely. What do you want in return?" (Y/N) asked him.

"You work for me. As I said, your talents come handy in certain jobs."

She gave him an unfathomable look. Kaz couldn't read any of her thoughts on her face. But when she lowered the sword, Kaz dared to hope he had convinced her.

"I'll think about it," she finally replied and left the alley.

@mcntsee

[theobxhummingbird]

Unreachable (Chapter 3)

(GIF credits to owner) (A JJ Maybank and Nova Fleming love story)

Taken aback of what had happened at the kegger and the amounts of times she shared a few glares with the blonde on their way back to the Chateau, Nova couldn't stop looking at JJ's backpack on the floor. Knowing there's something inside, that could've put everyone in danger that night, including her, was stressing her entire system. -Novs, -said Kie, who was with John B from the moment they brought him to the house, changing him into dry clothes and drying his wet hair, -come on, Pope will walk us home. Nova's shaky legs somehow made it out the Chateau; eyes meeting those faulty, blue eyes of the troublemaker. -He's stupid. -muttered Pope, as he exited the Chateau. Kie followed with shaking her head and sighing. After all, the both of them knew JJ won't stay at John B's long, since the news will reach Sheriff Peterkin immediately. And it was true, the next morning, when John B's eyes, one bruised from the fight, fluttered open, he met Peterkin's figure in his bedroom. -Get decent, sweetie. We need to talk. Sheriff Peterkin walked out of the bedroom and waited for John B to put himself together. -Sorry to break in like this. I heard something had happened yesterday, at your "little" gathering, so I came to check on you. So, how are you besides the--, -she circled around her eye, referring to John B's bruised one. -Oh, no, I'm--I'm great. Yeah, fantastic. Uh...Guys? -he looked to the door, where Nova, Kie and Pope stood. -Oh, your little group is here. No wonder why one of them is missing. -she crossed her arms over her chest, -So, while you're all here, I might say what I heard. A fight on the beach yesterday, and a gun was involved. -Okay. Gun? -John B stood up from his leaned position, tapping Peterkin's shoulder, -No. Did I get in a dustup? Yes. But was there a gun? No. No way. -That's okay. I know who it was. I'll get to him. Also, a body was found in the marsh yesterday. Nova's eyes went wide and she glanced over at Pope and Kie, who's expressions were no different from hers. -Were you in the marsh yesterday? -Yes, we were fishing for some drum. -You catch anything? -Nah, we were skunked. -Strange. Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up. You come across a wreck yesterday? -No. -John B shortly glanced at the others. -What is going on? -Nova muttered to Kie quietly. Sheriff Peterkin asked them all the question about yesterday's happenings and if they have any information on the wreck, promising them to help with the gun issue and get their friend out of the situation. They were all gathered at John B's; JJ also came along after Peterkin exited the Chateau. -Look, I'm calling it off. All right? Peterkin said, if I stay out of the marsh, she'll help us with the gun incident. For else, they'll automatically know we had something to do with it, if we continue looking. -Yes, I'll leave, you have private topics to talk. -said Nova, standing up from her place. -No, Nova, -said John B, -I have nothing to hide from you, Kie told us you're trustworthy. Sit please. -And you believed Peterkin, John B? -said JJ. -Yes, I believe her, JJ. -An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop. -All we got to do, is stay out of the marsh for a couple of days and she'll help us out. She's saving your ass from shooting a gun. -You know what I should have done? Just let Topper drown your ass. -Yeah, Topper was going to drown me? -Sure looked like it. I mean have you looked in the mirror? -Tell me some more. Come on. -They always win, -said JJ, leaning his arm on the wood, -don't they, man? Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win! Goddamn! -Look, it's okay. -said Kie. -No, it's not okay! It is not. They don't want us to go down into the marsh. That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it, man. I know you do. -he pointed to John B. -And I understand why you don't want to go. -he said to Pope, -You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk. And you-- you're already rich anyways. Why would you bother. -You--, -he turned to Nova, -you're not even involved in this, so no need to argue. -But, you and me, man, we got nothing to lose! We really don't, all right. -JJ. -John B sighed. -And I know it didn't use to be that way for you. -I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about it. -he started walking away. -So that's it? -said JJ, John B pushing him away. -Just get out of my way, bro. -John B, listen to me. I have a plan. You got the key to Cameron's boat, right. -No. -John B knew where he's going with involving the Cameron family. -There's scuba gear inside of it. We just borrow that, and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon,and that is what's going to save you, man. -I'll be in "Wisteria", if anyone needs me. See you, John B. -she waved a goodbye to the boy. -You are leaving? -he asked, making his way over at her. -Yes, I'll go to the flower garden, need to help my grandma with the orders. -Okay, wait for me, we'll leave together. -he said and quickly ran to the Chateau to grab something. -Wow, emerald girl, -said JJ, -you really in on what we're planning, huh? Emerald girl. Her green eyes were the ones who really provoked the name. -I'm not the kind of person to go and talk about one's secrets, especially people I know. -Will not be taken aback if you are. -he said, throwing pebbles far away. -Guys, what is wrong with you? You don't even know each other, how can you hate-- Kie wide eyed Nova and she exactly knew what her friend's thinking about, and a nod was only needed to confirm it. -Everyone's got their secrets, Ms. Kiara, just like emerald girl. -his lips curved into an evil smirk. -I'll go see where John B is, so we could leave. -she said giving Kie and Pope a hug and walking away to the Chateau. -JJ...why are you so mean to her? She's my friend and let me tell you there's no person like her alive on this planet, so stop being a idiot. -I don't like rabble-rousers. -he said and kept throwing pebbles. -Since you're one I think you'll suit each other well. -said Pope, getting back to his book. -Pope? Did you have a tongue, bro? Didn't hear you talk until now, so...just asking.

John B and Nova walked together, until "Wisteria" and he needed to continue to get to Cameron's boat. -You didn't have to walk me all the way here. -said Nova, -Thank you. -It doesn't matter. Also, sorry for what you had to witness yesterday. -No, it's fine, don't be sorry. I think I'll know that I should keep myself safe at keggers next time. -And also...you know about the marsh... -Yeah don't worry, my lips are sealed. If you need any help with it, feel free to call me, I'll come immediately. -Thank you Nova, didn't mean to involve you at all, but you're a part of the Pogues as well, so...thank you anyways. -No problem. See you later then, be safe. -she said, giving him a hug and walking inside "Wisteria", where grandma Maida was sat making a bouquet. -You have some explaining to do little miss. -she said, as soon as Nova sat down across her. -Yes, I know I do grandma. There was happenings at yesterday's kegger and I know you heard about it. But let me tell you, nothing serious happened and nobody was hurt. They're all fine and the situation is under Sheriff Peterkin's care. So, there's really nothing you need to worry about. Look, I'm fine as well; stood away from it the whole night anyways. -Why do I feel like your new friends are involved in the gun issue? -As well as the Kook kids, huh? -said Nova, reading through her grandma. -All I care about, -she said, taking the flowers to the other table and coming back to sit down again, -is your safety. I have only one granddaughter, who I trust with my entire heart, and I need to protect her from any danger. -You're right grandma and I understand you worry about me. But I know you are also aware of how careful and wise enough I am, to make decisions that'll have a good, rather than a bad outcome. -I know, that's why I trust you. I know by fact you didn't drink at yesterday's kegger, nor cause any problems. But if I knew you would, then will I ever let you go? I don't think so. You are my kid, and my kid doesn't get involved in bad situations. Keep in mind that, the night is always made for troubles. -Which means that the explanations are over, right? -Yes, you're free to go. Thank you for being honest with me. -Always, Mrs. Fleming. -said Nova, taking the box of perfumes she left in the glass cupboard. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and Kie's text appeared saying: "What happens if nitrogen gets in your blood? Pope knows, but I want to hear it from you first." -"When the nitrogen bubbles, form in your blood, a condition called decompression sickness or the bends, block the vessels. The first symptom you get is a tingling feeling in your limbs. Be careful, it can lead to a heart attack, strokes and even ruptured vessels in the lungs." -"Pope said the same thing. I suppose this is not going to be well." -"Whatever you're up to guys, be careful please." -"Pope and I will come over later and tell you everything." -"Okay, I'll be in Wisteria all day." Nova put her phone in her pocket and brought the box to the table. She was worried about her friends, especially John B, who was the nicest from the moment they met each other. She started to doze off slowly, thinking about how him and JJ were different from each other. One so patient and positive; other disobedient and cold. Two friends, two different minds. And as if Maida was reading her mind, she approached her way. -Can you tell me about your friends a bit? -she said. -Sure. I'll tell you what I realized, from meeting them yesterday. -she said, resting her elbows on her table, -John B is a nice boy, he is welcoming and ready for new friendships and acquaintances. He's like the leader of the group. A good looking, smart guy. Pope is the brain of the group as Kie says; sometimes weird, but I love listening to what he's saying, even though I don't understand him sometimes. He's a smart and educated guy, very funny as well. Then, there's JJ; the rabble-rouser and troub- I mean, you know, very free-minded guy; doesn't worry too much. Chilled and relaxed. Kie; you know her; my only friend in the Outer Banks, before I met the other guys. She's a socialist; loves being active in environmental actions, including, cleaning the beaches from the careless tourists and anything that has to do with saving the Earth really. -Where are they now? You should invite them here, so I could analyze them all. -Uh...they all have to run some errands. Kie and Pope will come over anyways, you'll get to meet them. JJ and John B have to get something done at the Chateau. -Fine then, maybe next time. -Exactly. -Nova sighed, blinking twice to shake off the stress. Her hands reached for the perfume she was making the day before. She took out the needed ingredients and started where she was left. Maida was dealing with the people who were bringing the new flowers in the flower garden. Suddenly, Nova reached for her journal, that was peeking from her bag.

-" It's an unbelievable feeling, that there's three people, who's judgement about someone, can be acknowledged only and only by that person. There's the one who says it, then the one who hears it, and the one who witnesses it.  And in either ways, the person can either, prove that, what they've said, heard or witnessed is true or not. I started to live my life with those three people; one of them totally witnessing my true self, the other hearing about it and the one saying a few sentences about it. From the three, there's always one that's wrong, and even if I try and prove it, he'll always remain with his own thesis about me. So, how do you persuade such a person, that no human can be judged for its rebellious character, from a moment of self said view on a situation? And how do you tell them that, both of their different views on it, doesn't make the other a bad person? I'll stay confused, until there's an answer to both of my questions." She slowly closed the journal, leaving it back to its place. After the heavy rain yesterday, the ground still remained wet; the summer wind though, was showing itself by swinging the branches left and right and swirling around Nova's warm body.

Some time had passed and Nova started to get worried even more. Her friends were supposed to come and they were nowhere to be seen. She texted both, Pope and Kie, and none of them answered. The only thing she needed, was their confirmation of coming to the flower garden, so she should decide to close it or not. But, it didn't last too long; the two appeared at the flower garden, figures exhausted from the water. Grandma Maida had gone home, persuading herself that there's no need of wasting time, by waiting for Nova's friends, who she can meet at anytime. -The garden's beautiful. -said Pope, looking around it. Suddenly he stopped; eyes glued to a bookshelf. -Are these yours? He took a big book about mammals and sea creatures, from Nova's marine biology textbook collection. -Yes, they are my textbooks from university. -she said, bringing some snacks and drinks to the table. -You study marine biology? -he said, flipping through the pages. -Studied, marine biology, didn't complete my whole first year though, because I had to move to the Outer Banks. -That is really sad. -Pope said, reaching for another textbook, when a picture fell out of it. He knelt to the ground and picked it up, to reveal Nova's face and two other people. -This fell from the textbook. Nova took it from his hands and looked at the photo, a sad smile curving on her lips, -It's my family photo. Kie peeked to see and Nova gave her the picture; the girl had never opened the topic about her parents before. They looked so happy together and Kie couldn't believe her friend could have that big of a smile; she had never smiled so much from the day they met, just a small smile or a short laugh, but that was all. -Sorry to ask, but...would you like to continue studying again? -said Pope. -That's a topic that bothers me almost every day. I left my university two months ago and I don't know if it'll be a good idea, to go back after two months. But, I also miss studying; I love marine biology. And here in the Outer Banks, there's no opportunity for me to continue my studies, which means I have to move away and start a university out of Outer Banks. So, I still haven't given a proper decision. -I want to study science and I totally understand you. Getting out of the Outer Banks, is the only way I'll ever face my dreams. Yeah, but the protocol of leaving is the hardest part; some part of you still stays in the Outer Banks. -Novs. -said Kie, her voice going high pitched a bit, -What's going on with you and JJ? -Yeah, you guys are weird. -added Pope. Nova let out a heavy sigh and sat down across from them, -He showered me with the Volkswagen and I inflated one of the tires. -Ooooo, he was so annoyed. -said Pope. -He came in, hit everything, slammed the doors. -I totally forgot I asked JJ to take my backpack on his way back to the Chateau. -The start of a new love story...-Pope muttered under his breath. -I heard you Pope. There's nothing like that. -Yeah, exactly, JJ's not Nova's type. -I was just joking, -he put his hands up in defense, -calm down. The three of them talked for a bit, before JJ and John B appeared at Wisteria. Nova gave them their drinks and the Pogues gathered around the table. -I thought, he drowned, that's it, we're over. -said Kie, but then he appeared on the surface. -The timer ended and Shoupe was still analyzing the boat; I could see him from under. -added John B. -So that's why Kie asked me what happens if nitrogen gets in your blood. -Yeah,-said Kie, -and when you said the same thing as Pope, I couldn't be more worried. -Wait, -JJ spoke suddenly, -how would she know what will happen? -She's a marine bi- -What? I can't know? I live in the Outer Banks where I have reach of the water and need to know any dangers that can occur. -she cut in on Pope. -She's a marine biologist plus, that adds in on the knowledge. -added Kie. -What are you, a Kook or a Pogue, emerald girl? -I am a person, JJ. -she said and stood up to refill their cups, Kie following her to the other table. -You two need to stop getting in on each other. -It's none of my fault blonde bohemian prince can't keep his mouth shut for a second. He literally has an answer to everything. -she took the cups back to the table where the guys were. -Did you find anything at least? -asked Nova. -A compass that belonged to my father. It belonged to many generations back as well. -If it reached you, then it must mean something. -You think? -John B's face lit up with hope. The light in his eyes showed how much he wanted to find his father and it hit Nova's soft spot; family is the best thing in the world. -Yes, I do. And since it reached you, there's something that you need to know. Did you explore it? -No, I didn't take my time to explore it. Maybe tomorrow with a fresh mind. You'll come over, right? -I have to serve at the Wreck from morning to afternoon, but I'll try to come. -I want you to be there; I like the way you think. -John B gave her a small smile. Nova turned to Kie; knowing the crush she had developed for the boy and Kie just nodded with her head, trusting her best friend with her whole life. -Okay, I'll do everything to come and be there for you guys. -More like be there for you...-muttered JJ. Nova heard him and unnoticeably rolled her eyes. After all the blonde bohemian prince was just talking none sense.

[fanfeline]

16 Germinal and aftermath, from the memoirs of Charles-Henri Sanson, executioner (English trans.)

Germinal 16 -- By the order of Citizen Fouquier, I remained in the vicinity of the Tribunal all day yesterday. The hall of justice was so crowded that I could not gain admittance. I arrived at nine o'clock this morning at the Conciergerie. As I passed the threshold, a gendarme tapped me on the shoulder, and said to me: ‘You'll have plenty to do to-day;’ and Riviere added: ‘They are all sentenced to death.’ He was mistaken, as I found out afterwards, for Citizen Luillier was acquitted. He was so inoffensive and obscure that no one thought of him. Richard's lodge was crowded with people who wanted to see the prisoners. As I was crossing the courtyard, Wolf, one of the clerks, told me to follow him upstairs. Citizen Ducray and two other clerks were writing; and Fabricius Paris, the head clerk, was walking up and down the room. His eyes were very red; he was deadly pale, and he trembled like a leaf. When he saw me, he said: “I am going away.” Ducray turned round and said: ‘Will you sign?’ ‘No, no, once more,' replied Citizen Fabricius; ‘I would rather burn my hand than sign.' He went away with tears in his eyes. I was not surprised, for I knew him to be a great friend of Danton's, and his pluck pleased me. Fouquier-Tinville, who is a cousin of Desmoulins, had not the same scruples. Lescot-Fleuriot, deputy-prosecutor, and two other functionaries, entered the room. Lescot asked me whether my carts were ready. I replied that they were. He then ordered me to go down and wait, which I did.

I had been waiting for a considerable time, when a gendarme came to tell me that I was wanted by Fouquier-Tinville. I found a good many persons in his closet — old Vadier, Amar, Coffinhal, Arthus, Herman, among others. Although Fouquier was present, I received the order of execution from the hands of Lescot. He told me that the convicts had rebelled against the Tribunal; that they would probably offer new resistance; that to prevent any mishap they would be introduced one by one; that I should have to seize them immediately, and pinion them. Fleuriot added that if the convicts attempted to excite the people on their way to the scaffold, I was to go at a trot, and make all haste. He also recommended extreme celerity in the execution itself, observing that the sooner the ‘ruffians' died the better. After this, a discussion arose as to the number of carts required. I had ordered three out. Lescot said that one was sufficient, and Coffinhal observed that only one should be used. I objected to this, and obtained two carriages.

I then proceeded to the parlour, which was full of gendarmes and soldiers. They formed two thick ranks. Half-an-hour elapsed before one of the convicts appeared. This was Chabot. He looked very ill. He was surprised at finding himself alone, and murmured: ‘Where are the others?' He was pinioned, and his hair was cut. Bazire was the next to appear. Chabot rose, and, running up to him, exclaimed, with tears in his eyes: ‘My poor, poor Bazire, it was I who brought you to this!’ Bazire pressed him in his arms, without a word of reproach.

The two Freys, Delaunay, member of the Convention, the Abbé d'Espagnac, and Disderiksen were led in after Bazire. After these, Philippeaux, Lacroix, Westermann, and Fabre d'Eglantine, Two turnkeys supported the latter, who was ill. During the toilet, Fabre said he wished to speak to Fouquier. One of my assistants called a clerk, who said this was not possible. Citizen Fabre then became angry, and cried : 'You ought to be satisfied with murdering me, and not steal my property! I publicly protest against the infamy of the members of the Tribunal, who have stolen from me a MS. comedy, which had nothing to do with the trial.' Lacroix and Philippeaux were calm.

Fabre was still speaking when a noise was heard in the passage. We recognised the voice of Citizen Danton, and there was a dead silence. His words came out like a torrent. I distinctly heard him say to the clerk who wanted to read out his judgment: ‘Be d — d, and your judgment with you! I won't listen to it! What a farce!' He thundered away, and all seemed to recoil before him. But when he saw the other convicts, his demeanour altered completely. He assumed a cold, indifferent air, and calmly walked up to me. He sat down, and tore away his collar, saying: 'Do your duty, Citizen Sanson.' I cut his hair myself. It was thick and hard like a mane. Meanwhile he went on speaking to his friends: ‘This is the beginning of the end; they'll guillotine the representatives wholesale. Committees governed by a Couthon without legs, and a Robespierre…. If I could leave them mine, they might go on for some time….But no; France will awake in a cesspool before long.' Shortly after, he exclaimed: 'We have accomplished our task. Let us go and sleep.'

Citizens Hérault de Séchelles and Camille Desmoulins were led in next. The former gave no sign of emotion; the latter spoke of his wife and child in heartrending terms. As soon as he saw us, he was seized with a tremendous fit of rage. He rushed upon my assistants, and struggled with them like a giant. All his clothes were torn in the scuffle. Four men had to hold him down on the chair. His friends tried to soothe him — Fabre with soft words, Danton with a tone of authority. The latter said: 'Leave these men alone! What's the use of fighting with the servants of the guillotine? They are only doing their duty. Do yours.'

At length everything was ready. Ducray headed the cortége. The members of the Convention and General Westermann occupied the first cart, in which I and Henri sat down also; four assistants were in the second cart with the other convicts. The escort was as numerous as that provided for the Queen and the Girondins. Danton stood in the first rank, behind me; next to him was Hérault de Séchelles; Fabre, Camille, and Philippeaux were behind. Chabot was the only one who sat down. He had tried to poison himself, and suffered much. Bazire stood next to him, and spoke to him words of tender friendship.

As the carter whipped his horse Danton exclaimed: ‘The idiots! they'll cry "Long live the Republic!" In half-an-hour the Republic will be without a head!' Fabre d'Eglantine was inconsolable about his comedy, which he said was in verse; upon which Danton laughed, and said to him: 'Verses! you'll have enough of them in a week, and we too.'

As we reached the quay, Camille Desmoulins became very furious. 'Do you not recognise me?' cried he; ‘The Bastille fell at my bidding! Come to my help, republicans! Do not let them murder us!'

His cries were received with groans. His fury increased, and we had to threaten to tie him to the side of the cart if he did not remain still. Danton, who clearly saw that the people who surrounded them would not rise to free them, said to Camille in a strong voice: ‘Be quiet, be quiet ! do not hope to soften this vile rabble.' And Lacroix: ‘Be calm; think rather of commanding respect than of exciting pity.'

Danton was right: there was no hope for them. The escort was surrounded by the usual attendants of the guillotine, and they shouted so that it was impossible for the public at large to hear what the prisoners said.

Passing before a cafe we saw a citizen, seated on a window-sill, who was drawing likenesses of the prisoners. The latter looked at him, and murmured: ‘David, David!' Danton raised his voice, and cried: 'Is that you, valet? Go and tell your master how soldiers of liberty can die.' Lacroix also spoke to him violently. David went on drawing. Doors, windows, and shutters were closed in Duplay's house (where Robespierre lives). When the prisoners saw the house, they aimed sarcasm over sarcasm at its walls. ‘Vile hypocrite!' said Fabre. ‘The coward is hiding himself, as he hid on August 10,’ cried Lacroix. Danton's voice rose louder than any. His face was purple, and his eyes glistened like burning coals. 'You shall appear in this cart in your turn, Robespierre,' he exclaimed, ‘and the soul of Danton will howl with joy!'

Danton was the same to the last: passing without transition from the most violent anger to the greatest calmness; at times brutal, at others sarcastic, and always firm. As we came in sight of the scaffold his colour slightly altered. The attention with which I looked at him seemed to displease him, for he elbowed me roughly, saying: 'Have you not a wife and children?' I replied that I had. He then resumed with impetuosity: 'So have I. I was thinking of them.' And I heard him murmur: ‘My wife, I shall not then see you again! My child, I shall not see you!' But a few seconds after he was himself again.

Delaunay, Chabot, Bazire, the two Freys, Gusman, Disderiksen, and D'Espagnac died first. When Camille Desmoulins was on the platform he asked me to do him a last favour, which was to take a lock of his hair and send it to his mother-in-law. He then stepped towards the weigh-plank without resistance. Fabre, Lacroix, Westermann, Philippeaux suffered next. Westermann cried several times, 'Vive la République!' Hérault de Séchelles came next, and Danton with him, although he was not called. My assistant had already seized Séchelles, when Danton advanced to embrace him. But it was too late. Danton looked on while his friend was being executed, with such coolness as does not belong to man. Not a muscle in his face moved. He seemed to defy not only the fear of death, but death itself. The weigh-plank was hardly lowered when he advanced. I advised him to turn round while the body was being removed. He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. ‘Do not forget to show my head to the mob; they have not often seen one like it!'

When, according to his last wish, Danton's head was shown, there were cries of 'Vive la République!' but not many.

The cemetery of La Madeleine, where are the King, the Queen, and the Girondins, having been closed, the fifteen corpses of the Dantonists were taken to the small cemetery which has just been opened near the Barrière Monceaux.

I went to the Palace of Justice to take orders for tomorrow. Met Desboisseaux and Vilate, two jurors. They wanted to know how Danton had died. I related what I had seen. 'It is not astonishing; he was drunk,’ exclaimed one of them. I assured them that Danton was not drunk at all; upon which they called me a traitor and a blackguard, and went away in a passion.

Germinal 17 -- I did to-day what Citizen Desmoulins asked me. I got the address of his father and mother-in-law, at his house in the Rue de la Comedie, and went to No. 17 Rue des Arcs. Of course I did not go up. I sent for the servant, without telling her who I was, and said that, being present at the execution of Citizen Desmoulins, he had asked me to hand a locket to the mother of his wife. I then departed; but I soon heard steps behind. The servant came up, saying that Citizen Duplessis, Camille Desmoulins’ father-in-law, wished to speak to me. I answered that I was in a hurry, and that I would return another day. But at that moment Citizen Duplessis himself came up. I told him what I had said to the girl. He answered that I must have something more to say to him; and he insisted so much that I could not but follow him. He lived on the second floor. We entered a richly-furnished room. He showed me a chair, and sat down. Hearing the cry of a child, I turned round and saw a cradle in the corner of the apartment. Citizen Duplessis ran up to the cradle, and took out a child, who looked unwell. He showed him to me, and said: ‘It is his son.’ He kissed the baby, and said, with an effort: 'You were there — you saw him?' I nodded my assent. ‘He died like a brave man — like a republican, eh?' I answered that Camille's last words had been for those he loved. After a pause, he suddenly turned pale, and wringing his hands: 'And my poor daughter, my Lucile!' he exclaimed; ‘will they kill her, as they killed him?' And he expressed his grief in heartrending terms. A cold shudder crept over me. M. Duplessis walked to and fro, clenching his fists. As he was passing before a bust of Liberty on the mantelpiece, he threw it down, and furiously broke it to pieces. I was grieved and awed, and found no words of consolation for the poor old man. There was a ring at that moment, and an elderly lady, whose handsome face was pale with despair, entered and threw herself into the arms of Citizen Duplessis, crying: 'Lost! she is lost! She is to appear in three days before the Tribunal.' It was Madame Desmoulins' mother. I was seized with terror at the thought that I might be recognised by a woman in the loss of whose happiness I had a finger; and I ran away, as if I had committed a crime.

….

Germinal 20 -- Desmoulins' wife is at the Conciergerie with her so-called accomplices. They are to appear tomorrow before the Tribunal, with Citizen Chaumette and several others.

[leadpaintrose]

The Scarlet Blade

 She strolled down the line on the slick deck, examining each man of the defeated crew as though she were in an art gallery. She had started from the centre, and walked with her left shoulder towards them. A man at the far end of the line, the side she had not yet seen, raised his head slowly, the weight of his crew’s defeat heavy on his movements. He peered through sweat and blood streaked eyes at the woman that the victorious pirate crew deferred to, and a flash of recognition shone in his posture.

 “Charlotte?” he croaked incredulously, his voice thick with fear and exhaustion left over from the battle they had just fought.

 “Charlotte!” he cried, loudly this time, trying to stand despite the cords binding his hands behind him. One of the pirates watching him shoved him back down to his knees, but the bound man fought to rise again. “Charlotte! Charlotte Striker! Let me go, I know her, Charlotte!” A second pirate joined the first, the two of them trying to force the struggling man from rising. The woman appeared in front of them, a steel glare cast over all three men. She raised her hand, and the two pirates let go, stepping back and moving to keep an eye on the rest of the line. The woman smiled wryly at the man on his knees, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, Theo Killian. How did you end up on that grubby ship, surrounded by such terrible fighters?” Theo simply stared up at her, the nonchalance of her tone shocking him almost more than the realisation of who she was. She grinned broadly at him as the silence stretched, then turned to look at the crew standing around the other kneeling sailors. Her eyes turned hard and cold as she addressed them.

 “Kill them all – but take this one below.” The screams started as she turned her back, walking away to the stern of the ship. The gurgle of blood and the splash of lifeless bodies followed the screams, and the cheers of the crew filled up the silence that was left behind. Just as she reached the stairs to the upper deck, one voice rose above the others, sounding from the stairs leading belowdecks.

 “You’re just going to let this miserable dog live? Because you know him?! That is bullshit! Fucking soft womanly shit – any other captain wouldn’t be that weak. Now we’ve got another fucking mouth to feed, and you’re all willing to follow this bitch?!”

 The assembled men froze, including the two leading the captured man below, turning to face the man who had spoken. One of them dropped the arm of the man he was dragging down the stairs, drawing his cutlass instead. The bound man managed to half turn against the grip of the pirate still grasping his right arm, looking behind him at the unfolding scene. Several pirates edged away from the man that had spoken, and a loosening of blades on belts rattled around the abruptly silent ship. The captain turned to face the dissenter, and took several strong and steady strides, controlled thunder on her face and in her posture.

 “Come on, you blackguards, we don’t have to listen to a woman! Join with me!” he shouted at the stunned faces of the men around him, yanking his cutlass from his belt. She stopped close in front on him, reaching out and grabbing the wrist holding his cutlass. He paused, unsure of how to respond. Shock replaced uncertainty on his face as several inches of steel sprouted from his back. She twisted her own sword in place, leaning in until her face was inches from his.

 “Loyalty is not weakness. Look around you – you can’t start a mutiny with only one. I hope this sense of loneliness follows to the Locker.”

 He attempted to croak out a response, but she pushed him to the deck, sliding him off her blade. The dull thud of his body hitting the deck seemed to the echo in the silence. The only sound was a soft gasp from the bound man, recalling the two escorting him to his presence. They shoved him down the stairs, their action breaking the tension that held the rest still. A more subdued crew went back to their tasks, but the noise level rose again quickly. The captain turned back to the stern of the ship, striding away, snaring a loose piece of cloth from the belt of one of the men she passed, and cleaning her blade in quick motions. As she passed through her crew, she heard several of her men speaking of the man she had just killed.

 “Good riddance to sour fish.”

 “What was he thinking? Not a man here who’d turn against the Lady Captain.”

 “Wish I’d been the one to kill him, that squawking loony.”

 “No wonder the rest of the lubbers on his old rum runner had given him up so quickly. The bastard.”

 She reached ship’s wheel, placing her hands on the railing of the upper deck and leaning against the water-smoothed wood.

 “Mr Malik!” she called, turning to face the men now below her on the main deck. A tall, lithe man at her elbow turned to her with false seriousness on his face, a flicker of a smile unsuppressed. “A good haul today?” she asked.

 “The best we’ve seen for a month, Captain!” Malik replied, loud enough for the whole ship to hear.

 “Well, then,” Charlotte replied, allowing a hint of mirth to slip into her voice, “What say we break out a double ration of our finest then?”

 A wave of cheers echoed her question, the men eagerly racing to find cups and bottles. Malik inclined his head at her, and she continued at a normal volume. “The really good stuff, Mr Malik. Pour me two glasses. I’m off to visit our guest.”

 Malik nodded, turning serious for a moment. “Can we trust him ma’am?”

 She put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’d bet my life.”

 After a tense moment, Malik guffawed loudly. “Ah, I’d bet your life too, my lady! But not mine.” He threw himself down on the main deck, pushing the men aside as he fought his way to the hold. Charlotte grinned at her crew, taking a moment to enjoy the victory they had won. She strolled down the stairs again, crossing the planks to the belowdecks ladder. The pirates moved aside for her almost unconsciously, but with the occasional half-salute. She made the ladder unscathed and descended into the creaking dimness. The sun was close to setting, and the enterprising ship’s boy, Thomas, had already lit the lanterns that swung gently around the open space.

 Charlotte descended the next ladder to the lower deck, passing barrels full of gunpower, fresh water and several bolts of silk from a merchant ship they had taken yesterday. Halfway down the steps she heard the high-pitched voice of that same ship’s boy, cracking and breaking as it had started to do several weeks ago. Walking up behind him, she paused a few steps away, knowing that he wouldn’t think to look around, watching him speaking animatedly to the man in the second of the two cells built into the ship.

 “The Lady is the best captain I’ve ever had, Mister, and I’ve been on a few ships in my time! She’s a bit mean, but she’s fair – ain't nobody doesn’t get a fair share in everything we take, and everyone gets a chance at fighting, even me! She’s a bit funny sometimes, on account of her being a woman, but anyone who says having a girl on board is bad luck can go rot!  I’ve never eaten better, and everyone likes her. You’d do worse than staying on board our ship. Won’t you, Mister? Mikey says he reckons you’re the best fighter he’s seen in weeks, and he’d know – he worked for the Royal Navy once, well, at least he says that he did, but he’s got this shiny medal – I’ve seen it – and he knows all the commands and stuff, so I believe him. If you stay, you’ll get food and some good mates, and The Lady even lets us go off on shore for a night whenever we make port, though I don’t really know why they all like that so much. It’s boring on shore, so I don’t know what they do all night....”

 “You’ll find out when you’re older,” Charlotte interjected, standing with her arms folded. Thomas spun around in shock, almost dropping the glowing taper he still held. He froze, not moving a muscle except for his eyes, which darted between her face and the ladder at her back.

 “We took a big prize today, Thomas. You don’t want your extra ration of grog?”

 The boy frowned, confused, until something clicked in his mind and a broad smile stretched across his face. With a quick “Thanks, Lady Captain” he bounded up the stairs, his young voice managing to be heard briefly above the rabble on deck. A few teasing words floated down as Charlotte turned to the man in the cell. She smiled at him, but suddenly turned to her right and spoke into the darkness.

 “Anything I should be worried about?”

 A lanky middle-aged man limped out of the darkness, startling the man in the cell, who swore before he could stop himself. “The lad was certainly excited, but he’s actually learnt from last time. Seems he’s already taken a liking to this one.” The grizzled man looked the man in the cell up and down. He stepped close to his captain and spoke in a low voice.

 “Doesn’t seem anything to be worried about, Captain. Didn’t say a word of dissent to the lad, and seemed happy enough to listen. Bit dazed – obviously a lot on his mind. Is he....?”

 “A question for later, Wills,” she replied with a steel tone and harsh eyes. Wills stepped back, assuming a stiff, respectful stance.

 “Apologies, Lady Captain. Leave to fetch my ration of grog?”

 She snorted softly and smiled wryly at him. “Off with you.”

 Wills nodded, limping past her up the stairs. Charlotte sighed heavily, padding away in the darkness. Returning with an old stool, she placed it down in front of the bars, just out of reach. She sat, leaning forward and folding her hands in front of her, locking eyes with the man sitting on the floor behind the bars.

 “What are you doing here, Theo? How’d you’d get onto a ship like that?”

 “You're the Scarlet Blade, aren’t you?”

 “Yes.” She did not hesitate, nor offer anything else.

 He dropped his head into his hands, his breathing coming heavily across the short space between them. Uncovering his face, he spoke quickly – softly at first, but steadily rising in volume.

 “When I heard the rumours....it sounded so like you....the hair, the skin, the eyes.....and then I heard about Derek....but, I could never. I could never really think.....really think that it could be you.....the rumours around her....the blood, the pain, the torture....the blood.....but it is. It is you. How? How did you come to this? WHAT ARE YOU?”

 He now stood, shaking the bars of the cell, directing all the frustration, pain, shock and anger of the last few hours at her. As she sat, unmoving and unspeaking, everything drained from him, and he collapsed against the bars of the cell, slouching dully, the metal all that was holding him up, watching for some acknowledgement.

 After several long moments, she finally sighed, sitting back on the stool, back straight but shoulders slightly hunched. She looked up, breathing out a slow breath as she closed her eyes. Sitting in that posture for a moment, she started speaking.

 “When Derek died.....something inside me died with him. As his last breath slipped away, slid out of him around that blade that pierced his throat, I broke. Snapped and shattered. Everything about me was lost, broken into tiny pieces and scattered to the gentle wind that still ruffled his hair.

 “I would never love someone the way that I love him – I knew I would never feel that depth of love, that safety, that security within my own person and lot in life. I didn’t have enough to offer – not pretty, not skilled, not fierce, not rich. Nothing.”

 She lowered her face to him and opened her eyes again. He jerked back from the bar as if burned, startled by the venom and purpose mixed in her eyes, swirling around each other, barely separated.

 “So, I learned how to be enough. I took those shards of myself and I forged them through pain and fire into what I had to be. I took what I needed, and what I didn’t, and trading everything for that next step forward. I lost so many things, but gained everything.” She laughed sarcastically. “What more could really be taken from me?!”

 “I didn’t stop there,” she continued, her posture straight, her hands still. “I sought the depths of the ocean – not down, but out. Searched until my skin cracked and bled, searched until the salt spray slipped through those cracks and replaced my blood. Until the sea filled me with itself, pushing out all parts of me, wind and water and waves swirling through me, all the lightness and purpose and otherness of the empty, vast ocean. I searched.....and I found.”

 Standing, she crossed the few steps to the bars, not dropping her eyes from his. In her eyes, he saw the ocean – not the placid ocean, that sea after a storm that hung in the eyes of so many. He saw the ocean in its whole. A combination of peace and ferociousness, the flat hopelessness of a glass sea with no wind, the painful destruction of a maelstrom, the life-giving depths, and the bleak empty shallows. Nothing and everything. Stillness and chaos. Pain. So much pain. He felt it, aching with it.

 “I have given so much.” she said, the crashing of the waves in her voice. “Now, nothing is beyond me. Whatever I want. Whatever I need. And if anyone tries to take what I don’t want to give....

 I kill them.”

 She was back on her stool, a throbbing in his head, the crushing weight of the whole ocean compressed on his soul. She spoke again as the feeling started to fade.

 “Your turn,” she said. “How did you end on a Spanish merchant ship, carting silk and spices around these islands?”

 “I did something stupid. Lost everything. Lost her. I wanted to get back. To earn some money and sail back to her, but I got stuck. Stuck in that damn company, trying to pay off a debt that I didn’t even have. All I wanted was to get enough money to get back to her. A series of mistakes, and I’m STUCK on a fucking bilge boat, carting rotten rugs and burnt spices to ports that didn’t give a shit about them!” He was screaming by the end, the frustration and sadness boiling out of him. She sat, silent and unmoving, a wall against which his rage buffed itself. After some time, he grew quiet, his story told in full, his emotions unleashed from where they had been compressed. It was a story she’d heard a surprising number of times – different individual details, but the story always had the same core.

 This one, though. This one she cared about. This time, she knew them – understood the pain. He watched from the floor as she approached the bars again. She leaned in towards him, her voice quiet but determined.

  “Sail with me, Theo. Sail with us. It’s not the best life, but you’ll get plenty of food, plenty to drink, good mates and good fighting. You’re a good fighter, and a good man – we could really use that. You’ll have a purpose. A reason to keep going. Not the most honourable or respectable one, but a good one.”

 He eyed her warily, but with a weariness that took the sting out of it. “And what if I don’t? What then? Will you...”

 “I’m not going to kill you, Theo. Not after everything. Not you.” she sighed, half-turning from the bars. “If you don’t want to join us, then you’ll stay in here until we come across a half-decent outpost. You’ll get the standard rations, a pistol with a couple of shots, and you can be on your way. I’m not going to leave you to die on some forsaken patch of sand. It’ll be somewhere you can get off in a few days, at the most.

 “But, let me be clear: if I hear any rumours about life on this ship, or the kindness that I spent on you, then I will chase you. I will find you. And you will die at my hands. I will hold my knife in your throat as that bright spark of life fades from your eyes. I will promise you that.”

 She straightened up from where she had been almost leaning into the cell, assuming a businesslike air. “That is my offer. Stay with us, or leave. You have until morning to make your decision. Bring the cups forward, Wills. We’ll take them now, thank you.”

 A string of muttered curses spilled out of the darkness behind her, the man in the cell automatically sweeping his hand to his side to find the sword that had hung there for so long. Closing his fingers around nothing, he shook his head, and peered through the gloom at the gangly man that approached.

 “I just got there, Lady Captain! How the hell do you hear us so quick?” Wills grumbled. Charlotte smiled slightly at him, though her attention was still mostly fixed on Theo.

 “I’ve been through hell and back, Wills. I considered it a fair payment on behalf of the Fates for fucking me around so much.”

 Wills snorted, then touched a hand to his forehead in an approximation of a salute, and carefully made his way back up the stairs. The faint smile on Charlotte’ face faded with Wills’ footsteps. She took several steps backwards.

 “Until morning. I’ll come for your decision then. Consider carefully.” Turning, she put her foot on the first step. She paused, and slightly misty eyes looked at Theo for a long moment.

 “I hope you’ll stay.” She nodded once, and disappeared up the stairs.

 Theo turned to the dark porthole at the back of the cell. Through it, he could see the waves, bobbing with the ship they tossed around, the shine of moonlight quicksilver upon them. He stood there, thoughts churning with the tide, as the moon disappeared. As the pale dawn broke the empty darkness of the sky, the maelstrom of his mind settled.  

 Whatever it took, he was going to see her again. This ship would do just as well as any other.

[forestsstories]

Unsolved

Sunlight filtered through my beige curtains, casting highlights on the walls and playing gently across my face. I let out a soft moan, not yet ready to release myself from the visions dancing behind my eyelids. As consciousness reluctantly was thrust upon me the images faded from both vision, and memory. However I left my eyes closed for several minutes, until I heard familiar music fill the tiny space which I am permitted to occupy in my house. Another moan rumbled in my throat as I finally forced my eyes wide.

It seemed like a fairly normal day, maybe even a good one. The sky was an azure blue with small but fluffy clouds dancing across it. My hand fell upon my phone, which was vibrating with the force of my morning alarm, and my day began.

My eyes drifted lazily over my accumulation of clothing, dismissing each article with disgust, the way teenage girls often do. Hearing the ruckus of the rest of the house stirring I decided it was best to get my ass in gear if I was planning on having breakfast before school, and decided on my white shorts and red v-neck tee.

I grimaced at the wrinkled state of the tee as the hanger swung back from the force of its burden being snatched from where it hung, and flung it to the bed. My breasts complained slightly as I lifted my night shirt over my head and I made a mental note that it was time to start dieting again unless I wanted to outgrow all my clothes. The idea of asking my mother to take my shopping for new ones, coupled with the look of disdain I could already picture on her face was not one I relished, so dieting was definitely the way to go. It was when I folded down my pj pants and made to kick them to the floor that something abnormal finally hit me.

A quarter sized mark, blue around the edges and a center the colour of caramel, perched delicately upon the outside of my thigh. My brain reeled, going slowly over every possible cause, as one does when a foreign mark finds its way onto your person. My bare skin grazed the soft blankets of my bed as I perched there to go over the likely culprits.

Yesterday had begun in much the same way today had, with the exception of the sunlight. Clouds had hung in the sky and threatened rain, I recalled this clearly as the threat had persisted and I had wondered if soccer practice would be canceled. I remembered packing my cleats anyway, which had taken a while because they weren’t where I had left them. “Ryan!!” I could almost hear myself shouting at my dimwit brother for taking my cleats, feel the vibration of the floor as his feet pounded down the hall toward me. The ensuing argument had lasted several minutes, minutes which were precious in the morning. The result had been a lack of shower, and still missing soccer cleats. So I hadn’t slipped in the shower then.

I closed my eyes, tracing where I had gone next, and wincing inwardly at my whiny tone as I had stood outside my mother’s door. “Ryan took my cleats, I know he did, and I need them for soccer! This sucks!” I remembered stamping my foot, as my mother had told me off for my childish antics and threatened not to let me continue having a job if I was going to act like a child. “Adults don’t stamp their feet when they’re upset Jillian. Use your words.” I sighed, mom was always like that.

But nothing had hit me when I stamped my foot, and nothing else of note had happened at home. I’d packed my usual ham sandwich and ran to catch the bus. Had I fallen? I recalled each time my feet had struck the pavement, but as far as I could remember had arrived at the bus without issue. My father had shouted something that sounded suspiciously like “wear a coat!” as I dashed out the door, but a bruised ego left no physical marks. When my keester had found the hard plastic seat that was the best our cheap school bus could offer I unzipped my bag and rifled through it. Soccer cleats, textbooks, my work uniform, everything I would need for an unremarkable day. The bus ground to a rather jerky halt to pick up one of my friends and I heard some rabble rousing at the back as a couple of the kids had been thrust forward. Katie plopped into the seat next to mine and I recounted the tale of my stolen cleats while the bus puttered onwards towards the hell we liked to call our school.

Bad pop music droned through speakers that were older than I was in the halls. As I made my way to my homeroom I saw the usual high school bull, someone studying, a couple dumb boys wrestling, one of the drama students reciting lines with just a little too much gusto (one of the best tells of inexperience) nothing amiss. I struggled to remember if anyone had bumped me, but nothing remarkable came to mind. My classes had all gone smoothly, I got my English homework back (got an eighty, not bad) and everything had been normal until lunch. I winced a little remembering lunch.

I don’t usually find myself in the cafeteria at lunch time (remember my sandwich?) but today when I unwrapped my carefully prepared meal I spotted a disgusting spot of green fuzz nestled in a sea of soft white bread and knew I would have to brave it. I begged Katie to protect me from the masses but when she shook her head I gathered my courage, took a deep breath and strode in.

The noise was palpable. I like to listen to my music at a temperate sixty percent and this was well abouve seventy decibels. I ducked as a spoonful of mashed potatoes whizzed past my ear and sent the culprit of the attack a nasty glare. It must have worked because I remember feeling a sense of smug satisfaction as he sat his ass down and feigned remorse. I had chosen a cup of strawberries with yogurt and a grilled cheese for lunch. Ten dollars seemed like a bit much for the contents of my tray but I needed staying power if I was going to make it through a shift at work on top of soccer practice. The buttery crunch of the sandwich almost made up for the near miss of potato in my face, and I found myself not entirely sorry that my ham sandwich had proven inedible.

It wasn’t until I had half finished that I realized where I had decided to sit. A mere five feet from me, and staring at my chest with gusto was the mouth breather who always watched our soccer practice. Kevin. I frowned and scooted sideways to put a little more distance between us, until I felt my thigh brush against the steel leg of the table. The leg was cold and I considered just ditching my food and leaving, but ten dollars is a lot of money. It’s incomprehensible how I could hear his breaths amid the din of the cafeteria, but I swear I could almost feel the air being pushed between his teeth, even though I know that isn’t actually possible. My chewy grilled cheese didn’t taste nearly as good once I realized I was watching it beneath his watchful gaze.

I ended up walking the halls with my yogurt cup, carefully smuggled out as you’re not supposed to have food outside the cafeteria. The rest of the school day had been formulaic, and I couldn’t think of any reason a bruise would have blossomed on my skin from it. Had it been the table leg? I couldn’t remember hitting it with any amount of force, but possibly. I sank my teeth gently into my bottom lip as I continued to peruse the days memories.

Finally I landed at soccer practice, slipping on my cleats in the changing room. I told Katie about my impromptu lunch date and we both shared a laugh at our mouth breathing friends expense. I gazed longingly at the showers, wondering briefly if there was time to slip in a quick wash to make up for this morning, but the coach had launched into a tirade over something or another and I had to at least pretend to be paying attention. I expect I wasn’t because I couldn’t recall what the speech had been about, but I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending. Seven short minutes later we were on the field, sweating as we raced each other around it, attempting to foot wrestle the spotted ball into the opponents net. I remembered a chill in the air and a crisp scent that made me wonder again if it was going to rain.

A slight drizzle began about ten minutes in and persisted throughout practice but we were not to be done in by a little rain. Anything short of a downpour and we were determined to play, because we’re girls. I recalled the ball hurtling toward me. I remembered a split second decision to knock it to Katie, and my eyes flew open as I remembered my foot coming out from under me.

My breath caught in my throat as my foot slipped on the grass, slick with rain. My shoulder slammed hard into the dirt and my eyesight went dark for a moment, as it tends to when you take a hard fall. Play had stopped as everyone gathered around me and the coach asked if anything hurt. I frowned, concentrating on how exactly I had struck the ground. I remembered my ankle had been twisted, and as I touched my shoulder I realized a bruise was also blossoming there, but my thigh hadn’t taken the weight of my fall so an injury there didn’t make a lot of sense.

That was it though. I felt my brow furrow as I sat naked upon my bed reaching for any other possible explanation. My mother had picked me up after practice and due to having to ice my ankle I had called in sick from work. My manager had groaned a little, but there was little to be done. The remainder of the evening had been spent in bed, icing my ankle and studying. I pushed the mark, watching the pale skin around it regain colour for a moment after I released it and sighed. It would seem that the mystery mark on my thigh, similar to the reason of why Kevin can’t operate his god given nostrils, would remain unsolved.

[collecting-stories]

A Shelby Xmas - Shelby Family

Christmas dinner at the shelbys! All of the rabble at the table including all of johns brood, traditional Christmas bickering and general chaos, maybe John and his Mrs are hosting but honourable mentions of all the family please

I have an idea for Peaky Blinders, the family is all at the Garrison and John & Esme(reader) are are drunk and loud making jokes and Lindais visibly annoyed and says something rude under her breath. The whole thing escalates and Linda says something incredibly rude so Esme Punches her and John laughs Tommy & Arthur have to break it up. There’s a lot of fics that focus on romance but not a-lot of family dynamic and women’s interactions. “Last Call” was so great. I love your writing

A Shelby Christmas - Shelby Family

"Esme says she'll behave herself." John promised, clapping a hand on Esme's shoulder. She had her arms crossed like a petulant child and shot John a rather fierce glare when he said that.  

Tommy stood across from them and regarded both rather suspiciously. He didn't believe his younger brother or his sister-in-law to behave themselves, it just wasn't how they were. Especially not with Arthur's wife around. "I've promised Arthur we would all be very welcoming of Linda."

"When's he thinking he'll quit that?" Finn asked, walking passed them to the table.  

A long table had been fashioned out of smaller ones being shoved together inside the Garrison. It was John's idea, instead of trekking up to Tommy's or Polly's or having to go to his, the Garrison seemed like a neutral ground for all of them to come together and celebrate the holiday together.  

Tommy smacked the back of Finn's head, both for talking bad about their eldest brother's wife and for stealing food from the table that Polly was in the middle of setting. Esme made her way out of John's grip to chase after Henry and Charlie as they made a beeline for the front doors.

"It's alright, I've got them!" Ada laughed, coming through the door at that moment and surprising the boys into stillness. "Merry Christmas!"  

"Merry Christmas Aunt Ada!" Henry exclaimed, throwing himself at his aunt. Charlie was next to give her a hug as Henry invited Karl to go play with them.  

"What're we playing on this fine afternoon?" Ada asked, giving Esme a hug in the process. She deposited of her bag of gifts under the Christmas tree that John had set up and decorated just yesterday.  

"Cops and Robbers!" Henry answered, "but Will's calling it Cops and Blinders."  

"I imagine the Blinders are winning then?" Ada asked.

"Course they are, you ever heard a Blinder get tripped up by the coppers?" Isaiah joked, coming up behind her and giving her a hug.

Ada turned enough to give him a comfortable hug back, ruffling his hair as she pulled away, "When did you sprout up into such a fine young man?"

"You're not talking about Isaiah are you?" Michael laughed, standing next to him. Ada and then Esme offered both boys a hug.  

"Merry Christmas," Esme supplied, taking a quick look around the Garrison, "no Jeremiah?"

"He'll be here," Isaiah promised, "he's down preaching the Christmas story on Watery Lane."

John came over at the sound of his cousin and practical surrogate brother chatting by the entrance. He gave both young men a quick hug before telling everyone there that Polly said it was time to eat. Just at that exact moment Arthur and Linda came through the door, new baby in Linda's arms.  

"Merry Christmas!" Arthur practically shouted as he entered, following by a harsh shush coming from Linda. She had been terrified all morning that he would wake the baby.  

Esme wrapped Arthur in a tight hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek as she wished him a Merry Christmas and passed him on to John to greet. Tommy came over when he saw his oldest brother had arrived, grabbing Finn's elbow and guiding him over as well. Esme and Ada made no move to welcome Linda, instead cooing over the sleeping baby and ignoring her. Even Tommy only offered her a quick pat on the shoulder and thanked her for coming along, as if she'd be somewhere else for Christmas.  

Arthur didn't seem to notice as he hugged and greeted his brothers. He broke away from the small gathering to go give Polly a hug and kiss, thanking her for preparing the day.  

"It was Esme too, she did a lot of the cooking." Polly admitted, "how've you been Arthur? How's the baby?"

"He's alright, I've been good as well. Linda's been," Arthur waved his hand back and forth to indicate that she was just alright, "had to deal with the baby a lot lately."

"Well, I'm glad you're happy." Polly replied. She called for dinner again and watched as everyone took up a seat along either side of the massive table.  

John led Esme over to a seat three down from Linda and Arthur, hoping that she wouldn't start anything if she had Ada beside her. Despite the set-up children's table Louisa insisted on sitting on Esme's lap, laying her head against her mother's breast as dinner started.  

"Hello Louie," Ada greeted, reaching over and tickling her niece's stomach. The three-year-old laughed and fisted her hands in her mom's dress.  

"She's been clingy lately, usually to John, I'm surprised she wanted to sit here." Esme admitted, smoothing down her daughter's hair.  

Dinner commenced with soft chatter and food passing in every direction. Louisa traded her mother's lap for John's settling in to sleep as he ate dinner and chatted with Polly and Tommy. Arthur got up from his seat, leaving Linda on her own, and made his way around to sit with his brothers and Polly. Once all four were close the talk switched from children to business.  

Ada grilled Finn and Isaiah on what they were doing lately, if they were dating and what they expected to do in the future. She invited her youngest brother to come visit her in New York, knowing that Finn would do well to be out from under Tommy's thumb. He wouldn't be so focused on the Blinders and could maybe do something he'd always wanted to. She invited Isaiah as well but wasn't surprised when he turned it down.  

"Can't leave my dad like that, he wouldn't know what to do if I was gone too." Isaiah replied.  

Jeremiah had come in and he took Arthur's previous seat beside Linda, glancing down at the plate full of food that Arthur had abandoned. "Whose is this?"  

"Left it just for you!" Arthur called down the table, laughing.

"Aw thank you brother." Jeremiah nodded his head toward him, "and Merry Christmas."

"I heard you were preaching down by the cut," Esme stated, leaning a bit forward so she could see Jeremiah.

"I was. Everyone needs to hear the good word this time of year."

"Maybe after dinner you could read to the kids. We'll gather them round the tree." Polly called.  

"Yeah, it'd be wonderful." Esme nodded in agreement.  

"Of course."

As the night progressed John leaned back in his chair, resting an arm over the back of Esme's and then let it fall to her shoulder, pulling her in close to him. Everyone at the table, aside from Linda, had indulged themselves in enough alcohol to keep them drunk through New Year's. Esme leaned against John, laughing as he joked with Michael about this being different than his other family's celebrations.

"You say that every year John!" Esme teased, giving him a light smack to the chest.  

He glanced down at her and grinned, kissing her in front of everyone.  

"There are children at the table honestly," Linda huffed when the kiss deepened. Arthur laughed and tossed a dinner roll at his brother.  

"Oh you want to start that?" Esme laughed, throwing it back to Arthur. He tried to throw it again but missed Esme and hit Linda instead. "Sorry love."

"Honestly Arthur!"  

"Oh come on, what's a little mess at dinner." Esme teased, leaning down to poke her sister-in-law in the arm. "You should our lot at home."

"We're devils!" Katie called from the children's table and Arthur laughed in response.

Linda pulled her arm away and glared at Esme. "Well of us may not have been raised right,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Esme glared.

"Its clear you gypsies don't even have manners. Besides other things." Linda grumbled.  

Esme shot up from the table and threw her napkin down. Ada tried to intervine by Esme was having none of it as she shoved Linda practically out of her chair. In surprise Linda handed the baby to Jeremiah, who had already been waiting with wide eyes. Esme had a temper, and it was only worsened by alcohol. Even John at his drunkest knew that much.  

"What gives you the right to come up here saying shit about my family?" Esme shoved her again but this time Linda pushed back and stood up. "You think just cause Arthur stuck it in you you got any say whatsoever."

"This is what I worried about." Tommy stated, kicking back a glass of whiskey.  

"Just apologize Linda." Arthur called, not even bothering to take offence at Esme's words.

"Apologize? Apologize?" Linda shrieked. "I will not apologize, I didn’t come to this family party to be verbally attacked by some gypsy."  

John laughed, "you best keep your mouth shut and do as Arthur says."

Next thing anyone knew Esme had grabbed Linda's hair and yanked her head forward, succeeding in landing a punch to the woman's stomach as she did. Arthur and Tommy were up in a flash, Arthur wrapping his arms around Esme's waist and hauling her off his wife, grimacing when she took a strands of hair with her.  

"You bitch!" She continued to shout as Arthur held on to her and Polly helped Tommy get Linda outside.  

"I can't believe this family. This is not Christmas, you should be ashamed of yourselves." Linda continued as Polly wordlessly handed her coat over.  

"Shockingly this is Christmas." Tommy replied, calmer now that the situation was dealt with.  

"Tell Arthur I'm going home!"  

"Fucking thank the lord." Polly muttered as she made her way back inside with Tommy.  

"She go home?" Arthur asked, not even slightly surprised by his wife's behavior. He did what he could but she hated the Shelby family and it was always a source of tension between them. He looked visibly relieved to realize that she was gone.

"She did."

"Alright Finn, pay up." Ada stated, waving her hand to her brother, "you as well Katie."  

"You putting bets on my wife?" John asked, laughing as he pulled Esme down to sit in his lap. He kept his arms around her now, trying to keep her in place.  

"Finn and Katie thought Isaiah and Michael would get into it first, seeing as they're dating the same girl." Ada supplied.

"What the fuck?" John exclaimed, leaning forward a bit, "you mean to tell me you bet against your own mum? Kate, you should fucking know better."

"I realize that." Katie grumbled, handing over her money.

"I'm sorry did you just say Michael's been seeing Beth behind my back?" Isaiah cut in, turning to his friend in shock.

"It's not what it sounds like." Michael defended.

"Pass me a cigarette, it's gonna be a long night." Polly stated, waving to Tommy. He handed over a cigarette and they both sat there at the head of the table as Michael and Isaiah began to get into it with each other, Finn laughing uncontrollably at their bickering.  

It’s not Christmas without at least a verbal fight

[keywestlou]

PENCE LAYING LOW IN INDIANA.....FEARS FOR HIS LIFE

Yesterday on Morning Joe, Joe Scarborough said Mike Pence was “in fear for his life…..he was laying low in Indiana.” All because of Trump’s actions leading up to and on January 6.

Scarborough blamed Trump for putting the former Vice President “on the hit list.”

A shame from my perspective also. Pence could not have been a more loyal Vice President. From Trump’s perspective, Pence wavered at the end. From mine, he did his job in interpreting the Constitution properly.

Some came to kill Pence and Pelosi on January 6. Others decided to during Trump’s rally under the white tent before.

Trump put Pence behind the eight ball. Before and at the rally in suggesting Pence had the power to invalidate the election. Trump told everyone at the rally: Pence “did not have the courage to do it.”

Trump’s rabble rousers were ready. They had heard the words of their Master. As they proceeded to the Capitol, they chanted “hang Mike Pence.”

It has been reported 2 police officers died by suicide following what occurred at the Capitol. One a Capitol police officer. The other a member of the MDP.

The Department of Homeland Security issued a “national terrorist bulletin” yesterday. The bulletin indicated there was a “lingering potential” for “violence.” From persons motivated by anti-government sentiment following Biden’s election.

The Department suggested the January 6 riot emboldened extremists and set the stage for additional attacks.

Amazing how many Republicans have jumped ship since the election. It was reported yesterday 30,000 Republicans changed their registration to another party.

The number is probably higher. Sufficient data is not available. Only a handful of states report voter registration and information about voters switching parties on a weekly basis.

Some things in life are carried a step too far. One is the removal of statues of persons who had ties to slavery in the past and public buildings named after those considered to have had black animosity.

San Francisco joined the group supporting name removal yesterday. The San Francisco School Board had a resolution under consideration for 3 months. Forty four schools involved.

The Board approved a resolution calling for removing names that honored historical figures with direct or broad ties to slavery, oppression, racism or the “subjugation” of human beings.

Some of the names on the list included George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Father Junipero Serra, Paul Revere, Francis Scott Key, and Dianne Feinstein.

A step too far.

Yes, Washington owned slaves. Everyone did back then. It was a form of wealth. People forget how Washington made it possible for our country to be born, the cold winter he spent at Valley Forge, and his crossing the Delaware in the middle of a freezing Christmas Eve to defeat the Hussein troops.

Without Lincoln, the black race might still be where they were 150 some odd years ago. He is honored. Referred to by Americans as the Great Emancipator. On a personal level, he was shot in the back of the head and died for the good he achieved as a result of the Civil War.

Would the colonists have won the Revolutionary War had Paul Revere not galloped through the night shouting: “To arms, to arms, the British are coming.” The Revolution might never have gotten beyond Concord and Lexington.

Francis Scott Key wrote the Star Spangled Banner.

Dianne Feinstein is a today woman. What did she do to blacks?

San Francisco is a gay community. Overwhelmingly. Why not require San Francisco to tear down the statues of any persons who were anti-gay at any time in any fashion? Also, those public buildings that were named after anti-gay persons.

Another great inquiry in the Citizens’ Voice: “If the City gets 100 vaccine doses, what portion of that goes to second doses?”

Key West continues to receive acclimation as being a popular place to vacation.

The 2021 Travelers Choice Award for Destinations listed Key West fifth. Behind New York, Maui, Las Vegas and New Orleans.

Miami appears to have fallen behind after many years at or near the top. It is now listed #18.

DAY 3…..Greece The First Time

Posted on May 30, 2012 by Key West Lou

I cannot believe I have been in Novara only three days. It seems like a lifetime. Especially in view of my experiences.

Earthquakes still in the news big time here. Much destruction to Northern Italy.

I reported being in two earthquakes yesterday. Turns out it was three. Maybe five. Three hours after publication, I felt another one. I was sitting at the computer at that time also. I did not consider it of any consequence. After all, I had been involved in two already that day. Last night while watching television, it was reported that Novara had suffered two more quakes around eight in the evening. I never felt them.

Many dead. Significant damage. Sad. The people of Novara spoke of the earthquakes much yesterday. It was like being in Key West following a hurricane.

Speaking of hurricanes, I was thinking yesterday whether a earthquake or hurricane was worse. One is short and the other prolonged. Both cause significant loss of life and damage. They ended up equal in my mind. Better that both not occur, however.

Earthquakes are not common to this region. So I have been told. The word on the news is that whatever problem there is in the San Francisco area exists now in northern Italy. A shelf or whatever and it is moving. Italian news describes it as a mountain rising to the surface. The scientists have predicted at least 70 more earthquakes over time as a result. We shall see.

Lisa got Skype yesterday. We skyped for the first time in the morning Lisa time. The grandkids had already left for school. Corey joined in. It was exciting to see them both. I hope I get to speak with Robert and Ally soon.

Around 5, I decided to take a walk. I rambled up and down the streets of the historic centre of Novara. It was a high knowing that most buildings were a thousand years old. The first floor the best quality shops. Top floors great apartments. By the way, people live in apartments here. Homes are considered too expensive. I do not understand. Most of the apartments go for $1 million dollars plus.

My walk led me to discover the Piazzetta Delle Erbe. Piazzetta means little piazza. I am learning.

In English the Piazzetta is the Little Square of Herbs. Back when, probably a thousand years ago, growers and merchants came from all over Europe and Asia to buy and sell herbs at this market.

Close by, I made another discovery. The Broletto. I do not know what the term means. It was the place where the first market in all of Italy was established in medieval times. Everything and anything sold. It helped the Novara area at the time to gain financial independence

The best was yet to come. The Partigiani. It is at the Piazza Dei Martiri. Partigiani means partisans. The Piazza translates to the Plaza of Martyrs.

I learned the story of this special place while sitting at an outside cafe having a drink and watching the world go by. Two gentleman at the next table engaged me in conversation. They spoke English. Americans are revered here. I am being treated with kindness and respect because I am an American. It was not unusual for them to engage me in conversation. They started the conversation with…..American?

Novara was occupied by the Nazis during World War II. Some of the locals were not pleased.They became partisans. Guerrilla types working as the underground. Five were captured. They were placed against a brick wall and shot by the Nazis. In full view of the citizens of Novara.

After the war a small monument was placed near where they were killed. A tree was also planted. It still stands today. The tree. By itself against a large red brick wall. Bullet holes could be seen in the wall.

It dawned on me that the medieval thousand year old buildings I have been speaking about were in good shape. I asked were they not destroyed during World War II? Bombs, artillery and tank fire. No, I was told.There was never any fighting or bombing or what have you in and to Novara. The Nazis walked out and the Americans walked in. The people of Novara were very lucky. Other communities in the area, such as Milan, sustained significant damage.

My walk took me past many fine stores. I was particularly impressed with the shops featuring apparel for women. The most beautiful clothes I have ever seen! Absolutely magnificent! Bright, shiny and smart for summer wearing. The thought struck me it would have been nice to have a woman to take into the stores and buy a new wardrobe for.

Remember the 124 steps I spoke of yesterday. There are not 124. I counted them again yesterday. At a time when I was not suffering from jet lag and a bad stomach. There are 68. Still a lot of steps for this old man!

The effects of jet lag are still with me. I went to bed at nine last night. Did not sleep one minute. Finally got up at 5:30 in the morning to start this blog. I will pay for the no sleep later in the day.

Never got to Milan yesterday to view the Last Supper. The trains were out of commission because of the earthquake.

I cannot let this experience pass. At the dinner party three nights ago, one of the meats was a dark one. Deep purple. Sliced thin. Every one was going crazy over it. They loved it! A bit of lemon and they ate away!

I had a few pieces. Did not particularly like it. Other guests were surprised I did not.

Yesterday similar meat was served to me for lunch. I again was not crazy about it. I asked what is this? It was horse meat! Horse meat is legal in Italy. There are specialty butcher shops that sell horse meat. And lest I forget, donkey also. That was it. No more for me! I explained that horse meat was not legal in the United States for human consumption. My fellow diners were shocked.

The big deal today is for me to go to the bank. I have no euros. Only American money. The exchange process should be interesting. Is cash or a credit card required? Can both be used?

Stephanie Kaple is one of the loves of my life. She lives in Key West. She is known as the Island Shoe Girl. She only wears expensive shoes with high high heels. Looks good in them!

Stephanie now plays bocce. She joined the same bocce league I play in. She wears heels while playing. Not wise from my perspective. But that is Stephanie!

She writes a blog as I do. A recent one was interesting and funny. Take a look at it if you have the time. A short read. www.islandshoegirl.com.

That is all for today folks! Sorry for the length but there is much to share regarding my trip. Tomorrow I leave for Athens to start the Greece phase of this trip. Athens, Santorini, Mykinos and some deserted island. Five weeks will be spent in Greece. Then back to Italy for a while. Portofino and Morocco under consideration for the scheduled end of my trip. If I return. I am enjoying everything so much I might stay.

Enjoy your day!

PENCE LAYING LOW IN INDIANA…..FEARS FOR HIS LIFE was originally published on Key West Lou

[robinhoodrevisited]

Escape And Enmity  (pt.6)

Nettlestone. The barn. Exterior. (A group of mercenaries are milling behind Ellingham talking with the Messenger, who points at Allan opening the barn doors. Allan holds up his hand.) Allan: “It’s all right! It’s all right! They’re coming quietly. (Allan holds up his other hand holding a rope to which the gang are supposedly tied and steps out.) Show’s over! (Allan pulls on the rope. Much steps out first, his cloak wrapped round him. Djaq is next, then Will in his cloak, Robin and Little John.) Er… one thing actually. I’ve got to get his rabble back to the castle somehow, so…” Ellingham: (Sarcastically, stepping slowly forward:) “Sure. (Allan stops.) The Sheriff wants to talk to the outlaws in the castle.” Allan: “Yeah.” Ellingham: “Well, that’s strange, that. (The Messenger steps up next to Ellingham. Points to the Messenger:) Because a little birdie told me that the [points at Allan] Sheriff left the castle yesterday.” Allan: (Feigning innocence:) “You’re joking? Did he?” Ellingham: “Nice try. Get them!" (The gang drop the rope and step aside. Will and Much throw back their cloaks and the gang draw out their hidden weapons: Much and Djaq their swords, Will his broadaxe, Robin his knife. They separate and Little John runs to the front, staff ready, as the mercenaries charge through the narrow fence. Leading the charge:) Ellingham: “You got no chance! You’re gonna die!” (Little John hits a mercenary with his staff, then kicks him aside. Robin ducks Ellingham’s sword, then Little John hits Ellingham in the back. Much parries with his sword, then dances round, fighting. Allan swings down on a mercenary’s axe. Robin charges Ellingham with his knife. Ellingham steps back and Robin passes him. Both turn around and Robin stabs at Ellingham again, but Ellingham blocks Robin’s arm with his left and starts to punch him with the right, but Robin blocks it, then twists Ellingham’s left arm behind his back, forcing him to double over. Robin holds him and Little John spins and kicks Ellingham in the face. Robin lets go as Ellingham sails backwards. Little John stands over him.)

Little John: “We are gonna to die, but not today!” (Much parries a blow. Allan blocks and shoves his opponent’s blade aside. Much parries again as Djaq, fighting beside him, knocks away the Messenger’s sword. Behind them Will has just incapacitated a man with his broadaxe and sent him sailing into the barn wall. He pulls his axe back in front of him to get ready to defend himself as another mercenary attacks him. He catches the man’s sword with his axe as Djaq swings backhanded across the Messenger’s throat with a cry. The others defend themselves against the onslaught as Robin makes a run for some horses tethered under a shelter beyond the barn. Ellingham crawls to his sword on the ground and gets a grip on the hilt. Much swings and is blocked, then kicks his foe in the groin. Allan rushes forward and swings his sword at the man’s back. Much swings backhanded and slices the man’s throat. Ellingham gets to his feet.) Ellingham: “Fall back! Come on!” (Runs back between the fences. Djaq ducks an overhand blow and comes back with a backhand, but her foe defends himself with his shield. Will, having sent his wounded opponent crashing to his knees, turns to help her, swinging his axe into the mercenary’s back.) Will: “She’s with me.” (Djaq slices the man’s neck with a shriek, then looks up at Will. Much nods his thanks to Allan.) Much: “Good to have you back.” Allan: Good to be back.” (Will gasps, noticing movement in front of him. Behind Allan, Little John stabs a downed mercenary with his staff. Djaq follows his gaze and turns around to see more mercenaries standing beyond the fence, ready to charge behind Ellingham. Allan’s eyes widen as he sees more men coming up over the ridge.) Ellingham: (Pointing at the gang:) “I told you you were going to die! The gang watch in horror, and then Robin rides around the corner with five horses in tow.” Robin: “Like we said… (stops his horse and looks at Ellingham.)..not today! (to the gang:) Come on, then!” Ellingham: (Motioning to his men:) “Get them! Get them! (Djaq sheathes her sword. The gang dash for the horses and mount them. Robin leads the charge through the narrow fences, and the mercenaries ignore Ellingham’s orders, having no intention of being trampled.) Come on! What are you waiting for?! They’re getting away!” (The gang ride through the mercenaries and out of the village. Robin laughs maniacally as they escape into the forest. Ellingham glowers after them.)

Nottingham Castle. Isabella's Chambers. (Marian hurries into the room and closes the door behind her. Isabella, who is naked in bed, sits up quickly upon seeing her and covers herself with a sheet.) Isabella: (Whispering:) "Marian! How did you... (Panicked:) You can't be here!" Marian: (Striding forwards into the room:) "Apparently not. I've just had to subdue three guards who were out for blood. (Noticing Isabella's state of undress for the first time:) I see you didn't lose any sleep in my absence." Isabella: "Marian, you don't understand, you have to leave right now." Marian: "Oh, I'm not going anywhere until I have the Prince under my control. (Tugs at Isabella's sheet.) Now will you get dressed and help me find him?" Prince John: (From an antechamber:) "Oh I don't that'll be necessary (Enters the room brandishing a sword and looks pointedly at Isabella:) on either count. (To Marian:) Well, if it isn't the Nightwatchman." Marian: (Defiantly:) "You will never be King. Not after we tell everyone about your plot to kill your brother!" Prince John: (Sneers:) "Do you really think the people will believe your word over mine? The word of a woman, an outlaw at that?" Marian: "The nobles believed the Queen when she named Clarke as the King's rightful successor, didn't they?" Prince John: (Outraged:) "Even if they did, that little problem is also soon to be remedied. (Notices Isabella reaching for her clothes:) I don't remember telling you to cover up, Sheriff." (Isabella sits, her eyes averted as Marian rallies against the Prince.) Marian: "What have you done with her?" Prince John: (Raising a brow:) "While my claim to the throne may not hold as much weight as it used to, my money still does. At this very moment I have a bounty hunter searching for my dear niece who will bring her to me so that she can be properly cared for. So, (Raising his sword to Marian's throat:) seeing as you know far too much about my plans I cannot let you live." Isabella: "My lord-" Prince John: (Continuing:) "But... given the fact that Robin Hood will not be coming to save you, I see no reason as to why your execution can't wait until the Sheriff and I have further hammered out the terms of our new partnership. (Grins:) Guards! (Immediately, men from the Prince's own guard burst into the room from a second antechamber. To Marian:) I always use protection, especially during sex. (To the guards:) Take this traitor to the dungeons. (Turning back toward Isabella:) The Sheriff and I have so much more to discuss. (Marian and Isabella exchange glances as the guards pull Marian out of the room.) Now, my dear Sheriff. (Gently tugs the sheet from Isabella's grasp.) Where were we?"

Powis Castle. Wales. (Clarke, her hands tied behind her back and hood over her head, is being guided into a room.) Roan: "The Princess, as promised." (Roan halts Clarke's progress and pushes her to her knees. As Roan removes her hood the brightness of the room temporarily disorients Clarke. As her eyes adjust however, she see's Lexa rising from her throne, flanked on either side by Titus and Indra.) Lexa: (Gently:) "Hello, Clarke. (Clarke's eyes widen as the Commander steps down from her dais and approaches. To Roan:) The deal was for you to bring her to me unharmed." Roan: "She didn't come easy." Lexa: (Looking down at Clarke:) "I expect not." Roan: “Besides, I had two deals on the table. Prince John’s certainly paid better. (Lexa lifts a brow:) But fortunately, I chose more wisely. (Shrugs:) I've done my part. Now do yours, lift my banishment." Lexa: (Considers him a moment:) "I'll honour our deal when it suits me. (To her guards:) Lock Prince Roan away."

(Clarke turns to watch Roan's reaction to being betrayed by Lexa as the guards escort him away.) Titus: (From the dais:) "What about the Princess?" Lexa: (With a sweep of her hands:) "Leave us. (Titus looks to Indra who smirks but does as ordered. Titus moves to follow her out of the room but at the last moment turns to look at the Commander.) You heard me. (Titus reluctantly turns and leaves the room. To her guards:) Help her up. (The guards move forward and help Clarke to her feet. Stepping forward to remove Clarke's gag. Gently:) I'm sorry, but it had to be this way. I had to be sure the Princess didn't fall into the hands of my enemies. War is brewing, Clarke. I need you." (Clarke lurches forward and spits in the Commander's face. The guards spring forward and pull Clarke bodily from the room as she screams at Lexa.) Clarke: (While being dragged away, enraged:) "You bitch! You wanted me? You've got me, I'll kill you! Arggh!" (Lexa slowly wipes the spit from her face, turns and walks out onto her balcony where she surveys Powis and all that lays within her.)

Sherwood Forest. A few minutes’ ride outside Nettlestone. (Robin stops his horse and the gang gather together.) Much: “To the camp?” Allan: “There’s no time. Listen, there’s something I haven’t told you.” Robin: “What?” Allan: “Marian’s gone to the castle to stop Prince John.” Robin: "What?!" Allan: "She wanted to save the King, she couldn't find you and so she tried to kill the Sheriff and got caught. Long story short, I saved her, we rode back here and when I told her to stay far away from the mercenaries and she rode off towards the castle." (Robin turns his head away in exasperation. The gang all look to Robin.) Robin: "Allan's right. We haven't got time. We go to the castle. Now! (Allan clicks to his horse and the gang ride off. Robin waits to go last.) I'm coming, my love. I'm coming." (Robin gallops after the gang.)

[celticnoise]

Today, like clockwork, out went the tweets, the first out of Celtic since Tuesday night.

An advertisement. Or, rather, a reminder … a reminder that if you’re on the Home Cup Ticket Scheme your bank account is set to be lighter by £20 so you may have the pleasure, the privilage, of watching us in UEFA’s second tier competition on a Thursday night.

Between the CEO and the manager Celtic has grossly mismanaged our summer, with the consequences clear.

And instead of an apology, or explanation, or any kind of vision being outlined their first communication is the equivalent of a hand in your wallet.

An offer that normally might be easy to refuse … except you can’t, unless you withdraw.

And if you withdraw the club will punish you for that in the event we get to Hampden this season.

This is their level, this is the respect they have for the supporters.

Yesterday, a frequent poster on CQN tweeted the Supporter Liaison Officer John Paul Taylor and asked him who fans are supposed to contact if they have issues with the club. The SLO said that if they pass their concerns to him he will funnel them to the board.

Don’t be bothering that guy overmuch.

Nobody should be flooding the SLO’s inbox with complaints. It’s not that guy’s job to take the flak on behalf of those in the boardroom. Lawwell and his people pay more attention to social media than they let on, and they know how many of the fans are feeling today.

But I try to think of this as a politician would. Here’s a fact; the Prime Minister has a member of staff whose job is to give him a no-holds barred accounting of what’s in the media every single day. At times that must be a truly hellish job.

Am I saying Lawwell has such an employee monitoring social media?

He’d be daft if he didn’t, and it might well be that it’s John Paul himself. Tuesday night’s “press” was ghastly. Wednesday’s was worse. Yesterday topped them both, with only one blog suggesting that we get past this. Few of the replies to that piece were in any mood to do it.

This is as close to unanimity as I’ve ever seen this support. Lennon is bearing the brunt of enormous fury and he is under serious, deadly, pressure already, the sort that many managers do not survive. That’s how bad that defeat was the other night.

Those who are defending him on the grounds that it’s one game had better readjust their thinking because the rest of us understand what they apparently don’t; this was a game of huge consequence against a relatively weak opponent. The stakes were enormous and it should have presented no significant difficulty to navigate.

Yet his tactical decisions were ridiculous. His approach to substitutions was amateurish. These were not just small errors harshly punished, they were gigantic, obvious, mistakes of the sort which just beg to be exploited, and they were.

He didn’t even put things right when the writing was on the wall in 20 foot letters. His failure on the night to do even basic stuff does not simply call into his question his abilities as a manager at that level, but it brings even his professionalism into question.

Cluj are placed 227 on UEFA’s rankings. They scored four times at Celtic Park. The financial effects of that are going to hurt him and the team, although I’ll bet the CEO’s bonus is just fine. The reputational hit we’ll take is far worse.

It is a staggering result with huge implications for everyone at the club.

Lennon is not alone in the hot-seat here though.

Everything about his performance on the night is under scrutiny, yes, and he’s used up all the goodwill that had built up over the summer, but the feelings on the man who hired him are, if possible, even more negative. There is barely a single Celtic supporter who I have spoken to or who’s opinion I have read – and I do read all the blogs, and as many of the comments as I can – who wants him at Parkhead for one more minute.

But does it affect him? Does he care?

Some politicians get awfully animated by what’s in the papers and others don’t.

Some run the country by focus group and change their opinions and policies every time the opinion polls blip – early years Blair was notorious for this – and some simply don’t give a damn, and motor on regardless. Late years Blair was exactly like that.

The calculation Blair was making by then was that he was on his way out of office and there was no more need to fear the electorate. Theresa May knew she was sinking from the moment, on 8 June 2017, when the BBC released the findings of their exit poll and she knew that her “strong and stable” gamble had spectacularly failed. If it seemed at times that she couldn’t give a monkeys how the world saw her or what the public thought, it’s because she didn’t.

I’ll tell you this much; come election time, all politicians fear what’s in those papers. Come election time they are paying attention in full.

The Celtic support does not have elections. Our AGM, which could fulfil that function if the bulk of the shares weren’t in the hands of a small group of men who can block anything they don’t like, should be a place for holding people to account. It isn’t. We have no shareholder group who’s objective is to do what Club 1872’s started out; to acquire the requisite number of shares as to put control back in the hands of the fans.

Of course, we know how that turned out, but I like to think we’re a lot smarter than the average bear, if you’ll pardon the pun. Our fans should have made that commitment years ago. Whilst not convinced that fan ownership is necessarily a desirable objective – I am ready to be convinced though – I know the current way certainly isn’t working.

Broadly speaking, there are two ways that a PLC club’s fans can hold it to account. They can make their voices heard in the stands or they can vote with their feet and make sure those stands are empty, as testament to their anger and frustration.

If our supporters want to hold Peter Lawwell to account here, we need to get this head of steam up to full.

Fans are not going to boycott.

I have never understood the reluctance to do so, because it brought down a previous board and it can certainly rid of us of an interfering, over mighty CEO who should have taken his marbles home a half dozen years ago.

What I should say is that there will be no organised boycott, but then when the upper tiers were closed during Deila’s second season there was no grand sweeping plan behind that, and there didn’t have to be … fans had just had enough.

And that was one of the catalysts for the appointment of Brendan Rodgers.

Celtic’s average attendance has held up strongly, as you might expect during this period of domestic dominance. But I think it’s a soft number. The Home Cup Ticket Scheme – because it creates a two-tier fan-base by offering members preference for Hampden tickets – literally guarantees a captive audience, with captive being the appropriate word. Looking at it now, it’s so obvious that this is a tool to blunt one of the fan’s two key weapons of dissent.

As such, this is the first domino that has to fall.

But for that scheme being in place, the fans would be able to protest Tuesday night’s calamity by staying at home for the AIK game. I reckon it would be played in front of a half empty house if fans weren’t automatically charged and sent tickets for it just so as to stay in contention for Hampden games.

Think of an unofficial boycott as our version of a negative opinion poll. It is a message that this board would understand fully, and which they would find it very hard to ignore.

Look, the Celtic support is not a rabble behaving irrationally. There are a number of very specific grievances here. None are unrealistic or unreasonable. Nobody expects us to behave like the club across the city, with their ten signings this summer in spite of having a fraction of our resources and already running on debt. It is lunacy and nobody is advocating that we follow that all the way to the asylum and then, inevitably, the boneyard.

But this club has no ambition to speak of and those running it have no idea how to do it better or smarter. We still have a bloated squad, much of which is not good enough. Our squad should be smaller, and better, and those in it well compensated.

Our best players are on modest salaries which make the interest of richer clubs harder to resist and turn down … never think that having Callum McGregor on a poor contract is not, in some way, purposely designed to make him think of what he could earn elsewhere.

We may not have pushed Kieran Tierney out the door, but we did not offer him the kind of incentives which may have convinced him to stay. That is not an accident. It is the policy. Having Lawwell as the highest paid person at the club is not mere happenstance. It is quite deliberate.

So the Home Cup Ticket Scheme has to go, and that’s going to require a little bit of work. It’s going to require the fans coming together and that’s harder to do than making cats walk in formation. But there is a mechanism, and it’s called the Celtic Supporters Association.

Every supporters bus has representatives, and all are allowed to propose motions for discussion.

It will only take one to call for an emergency meeting on this issue … and to put it to a vote. If the CSA recommends that its members withdraw, then the chances are that the scheme will collapse. It might not even come to a vote; the CSA executive does have an open line of communication with the club and if they say the membership is on the brink of this I do believe that it would be enough to get the club’s attention in a big way.

If you’re one of those people who doubts that our supporter’s reps have the stomach for a fight like this, well don’t worry about that. Because this is a simple matter of democracy; if enough people vote for it then it’s policy and they will have to enact it whether they want to or not.

Don’t trouble yourself with concerns over their willpower, it’s not a factor here.

Concern yourself only with your own.

Do you have the stomach for a fight? If the Home Cup Ticket Scheme falls, then the fans have the weapon of boycott – organised or not – back in their hands.

And you know what? I wonder much stomach Lawwell has for the fight, and I wonder how much hassle the rest of the board really thinks this guy is worth.

In other words, just the idea that the fans do have such a weapon might negate the need ever to use it.

The biggest obstacle to Celtic’s completion of ten in a row and at the same time our progress in Europe is the club’s own chief executive. He is the single biggest threat to our continued dominance of the game here and any hope we have of making forward strides on the continental side. I’ve got an article in mind which will explore his entire tenure, but I don’t have to write it to convince most people; on this we’re all sort of agreed.

Seventeen years is far too long. It’s time for him to move on, for the good of the club. If he gave the slightest, tiniest, damn about that which he claims to love he’d know this and take the appropriate action. But he either doesn’t get it or doesn’t care.

It’s time he was put on notice in a way he can’t ignore.

https://ift.tt/2Z6G0hG

[cryptswahili]

Living on Bitcoin Day 3: Brother, Can You Take a Sat?

This is the third instalment of reporter Colin Harper's "Living on Bitcoin" experience in San Francisco. Find out what happened to him earlier on Day 1 and on Day 2.

I woke up on day 3 and made a pact with myself: I had resolved to not rely on Uber Eats that day.

I still think that buying this credit from an exchange like Bitrefill or Paxful is in line with the experiment, but I haven’t made a PoS purchase yet and I want to make today about going out and actually using bitcoin with merchants.

Only once I ventured out to actually try this did I realize that the trend I unearthed yesterday would become an insurmountable obstacle.

I woke up in a bed this time (one had been freed up after Christian’s roommate and friends left to move to LA). Like the day before, I immediately hit the coffee and continued to work on the write-up of the previous day. Little of note happened. Christian left to go back to Nashville to then go to Miami for a conference. Riggins, who had slept on the couch the night before, went with him.

To prep for a day of no Uber Eats, I looked up some of the places that I hadn’t checked with yet to see if they still took bitcoin. The preliminary results were disheartening. Bamboo Asian and Ramen Underground are closed on Sundays. Three Babes Bakery no longer accepts crypto and neither does Elixart, even though their Nevada location does. So my prospects here in San Francisco were looking grim.

Surely somewhere, I thought.

Resolved to make something of the day, I decide that I should just throw myself out there and see if I could stumble upon a place that would take BTC. If all the online bitcoin-as-payment finders had it wrong, maybe there were a few stores that did accept it but weren’t listed.

Clinging to this hope, I ordered an Uber for Haight-Ashbury, starting off my search with a toy shop called Woot Bear that supposedly accepted bitcoin. I wasn’t holding my breath.

An Uber pool took me a block away from Woot Bear and Haight street. Walking that way, I took out a sign I had prepped for my promenade in San Francisco’s hippie district.

“If you buy me food or coffee, I’ll send you bitcoin. I’ll help you set up a wallet and be your friend!”

I figured the absurd gesture would be in character for Haight-Ashbury’s rabble of itinerants, tourists, burnouts and homeless population. People probably thought the sign was asking for handouts. It wouldn’t be the first time I would be mistaken for homeless (happened earlier this year while passing out Thanksgiving meals around Nashville).

Woot Bear’s caretaker was out for lunch, so I walked around, sign in front, and went searching for food (I hadn’t eaten yet) or any place that would take my coins. I didn’t expect to waltz into a place and find that they take bitcoin, no more than I expected someone to take my sign seriously. Still worth the attempt. The reactions themselves when I asked were worth it.

Finding a thrift store I visited last time I was in San Francisco, I went in and glanced at a few shirts. A tall woman with jet black hair was preoccupied with her phone behind the cashier’s desk.

After browsing some flannels, I walked up to ask a question I already knew the answer to.

“Yes?” she asked, a little annoyed, looking up from the phone after I had loomed over the desk for a few seconds.

“What are the chances you could be swayed to accept bitcoin?”

Lips pursed on a to-go drink straw, she slowly shook a lowered head.

“No.”

“Yeah, I expected as much,” I said resignedly.

A little farther down the strip, I walked into a run-of-the-mill smoke shop. I asked the dude working it if they accept bitcoin.

He just shook his head.

“Know of any places around Haight that do,” I asked, grasping at anything I could get.

“Nope. Cash is king here.”

Cash is king, I thought. Yeah, no kidding, bucko. What’d you expect?

I slipped into probably half a dozen more shops, receiving the same result and a mixture of reactions. One young, nose-studded barista looked like I had offended her with my question, another was simply amused and gave me a free coffee. Most young dudes that I asked would just laugh at the question, answering, “No, sorry!” with a grin. The majority of people were simply confused. Some probably didn’t know what it was, but they knew that they didn’t accept it.

A bit defeated, I went back to Woot Bear. Now that it was open, I asked the shopkeeper if they still accept bitcoin.

“Bitcoin?” she asked, pausing her phone conversation for a moment. “Oh, no, I’m sorry we don’t anymore.”

I expected as much — past results were becoming indicative of future ones.

I asked her why they’d stopped. She told me that, apparently, the payment processor they used was no longer operational.

Still, she went on to sing bitcoin’s praises emphatically to the fellow who was still on the other end of her phone call.

“Bitcoin was great!” she told him. “It was fee-less and it would automatically convert to money in your bank account.”

She was treating it like some arcane truth, stammering while explaining how they used to use it and the value it carried.

“I don’t know what it is,” she ultimately confessed.

Phone calls, store visits, solicitations, holding that sign like a lunatic. Nothing would bring me the opportunity to spend bitcoin.

I left Woot Bear — the coincidental significance of its name including “bear” only now starting to register — with my confidence in disrepair. Still, I tried a few more shops to no avail and had an encounter that I won’t recount here for fear of being put on an FBI watch list.

Stopping to record what just happened (and clueing my buddies in — we have a running tally on surreal encounters), I was interrupted by an older, flustered, Indian man.

“Is that you?” he asked, pointing to my sign as it rested on the shop’s sandwich-board sign.

Thinking he was interested in my sign (he was the first person to stop to read it), I enthusiastically replied in the affirmative.

“Well, stop it. This is my sign, my shop.” The man gestured at the storefront.

“Oh, sorry, I was just typing something up — just using your sign for a second.”

“Okay, I don’t care if you need it for a minute,” he said as he stepped farther out on the sidewalk, seemingly to monitor my loitering.

Walking to the panhandle of Golden Gate Park, I was resigned to not finding anywhere on Haight that would take bitcoin, but not to finding nowhere that would take it.

Posted up on a bench outside a public basketball court, I called up a few places I had left to check with.

Nothing.

They’d all stopped taking bitcoin some time ago. A tone of brisk agitation usually followed my questions.

Frustrated, I gave up. The constant Google queries, calls and typing — all my activity had been eating into my phone’s battery — with hunger eating at my concentration: I’d had enough. My phone was at 5 percent, so I called an Uber and retreated to the apartment.

I’m typing this in the Uber and it’s honestly hard to focus with this empty burning in my gut.

San Francisco’s roller coaster landscape didn’t help. Most of what I wrote in the Uber was crap.

Back at the apartment, I ordered Curry Up Now again. The deconstructed samosas and sexy fries were very much a transcendent experience, probably both because they were undeniably delicious and because my stomach was ready to turn in on itself.

I was fed, but I wasn’t satisfied. My pact was broken: I couldn’t use bitcoin in any stores or restaurants, and the reality was becoming very clear that I likely wouldn’t get the chance.

I wasn’t thriving like I would have hoped — or really expected. Sure, saying I’ve been surviving wouldn’t be quite right, because it’s been unequivocally easy to use Bitrefill to get more Uber credit. But there’s no diversity in purchases, just travel and food. Not only have I not been able to spend it in the city, but I haven’t been able to experience the different ways that I could spend it.

Frustrated and disappointed, I watched the Saints play (and beat) the Eagles in the NFC division round and wrote a little more. Another night of being fed by a friend, as Michelle cooked risotto and had her folks over.

Before dinner was served, I heard Michelle talk about the experiment with them. Her mother took to the topic with quick fascination but diagnosed the potential difficulties with it.

“Oh, that’s going to be tough, but if he can do it anywhere, it would be here,” her mom said.

Let me tell ya, lady — you have no idea.

As Kashmir Hill did in her original journey, Colin is accepting BTC tips to help him along the way.

Tip jar: 3CnLhqitCjUN4HPYf6Qa2MmvCpSoBiFfBN

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

[Telegram Channel | Original Article ]

[ellahmacdermott]

Living on Bitcoin Day 3: Brother, Can You Take a Sat?

This is the third instalment of reporter Colin Harper's "Living on Bitcoin" experience in San Francisco. Find out what happened to him earlier on Day 1 and on Day 2.

I woke up on day 3 and made a pact with myself: I had resolved to not rely on Uber Eats that day.

I still think that buying this credit from an exchange like Bitrefill or Paxful is in line with the experiment, but I haven’t made a PoS purchase yet and I want to make today about going out and actually using bitcoin with merchants.

Only once I ventured out to actually try this did I realize that the trend I unearthed yesterday would become an insurmountable obstacle.

I woke up in a bed this time (one had been freed up after Christian’s roommate and friends left to move to LA). Like the day before, I immediately hit the coffee and continued to work on the write-up of the previous day. Little of note happened. Christian left to go back to Nashville to then go to Miami for a conference. Riggins, who had slept on the couch the night before, went with him.

To prep for a day of no Uber Eats, I looked up some of the places that I hadn’t checked with yet to see if they still took bitcoin. The preliminary results were disheartening. Bamboo Asian and Ramen Underground are closed on Sundays. Three Babes Bakery no longer accepts crypto and neither does Elixart, even though their Nevada location does. So my prospects here in San Francisco were looking grim.

Surely somewhere, I thought.

Resolved to make something of the day, I decide that I should just throw myself out there and see if I could stumble upon a place that would take BTC. If all the online bitcoin-as-payment finders had it wrong, maybe there were a few stores that did accept it but weren’t listed.

Clinging to this hope, I ordered an Uber for Haight-Ashbury, starting off my search with a toy shop called Woot Bear that supposedly accepted bitcoin. I wasn’t holding my breath.

An Uber pool took me a block away from Woot Bear and Haight street. Walking that way, I took out a sign I had prepped for my promenade in San Francisco’s hippie district.

“If you buy me food or coffee, I’ll send you bitcoin. I’ll help you set up a wallet and be your friend!”

I figured the absurd gesture would be in character for Haight-Ashbury’s rabble of itinerants, tourists, burnouts and homeless population. People probably thought the sign was asking for handouts. It wouldn’t be the first time I would be mistaken for homeless (happened earlier this year while passing out Thanksgiving meals around Nashville).

Woot Bear’s caretaker was out for lunch, so I walked around, sign in front, and went searching for food (I hadn’t eaten yet) or any place that would take my coins. I didn’t expect to waltz into a place and find that they take bitcoin, no more than I expected someone to take my sign seriously. Still worth the attempt. The reactions themselves when I asked were worth it.

Finding a thrift store I visited last time I was in San Francisco, I went in and glanced at a few shirts. A tall woman with jet black hair was preoccupied with her phone behind the cashier’s desk.

After browsing some flannels, I walked up to ask a question I already knew the answer to.

“Yes?” she asked, a little annoyed, looking up from the phone after I had loomed over the desk for a few seconds.

“What are the chances you could be swayed to accept bitcoin?”

Lips pursed on a to-go drink straw, she slowly shook a lowered head.

“No.”

“Yeah, I expected as much,” I said resignedly.

A little farther down the strip, I walked into a run-of-the-mill smoke shop. I asked the dude working it if they accept bitcoin.

He just shook his head.

“Know of any places around Haight that do,” I asked, grasping at anything I could get.

“Nope. Cash is king here.”

Cash is king, I thought. Yeah, no kidding, bucko. What’d you expect?

I slipped into probably half a dozen more shops, receiving the same result and a mixture of reactions. One young, nose-studded barista looked like I had offended her with my question, another was simply amused and gave me a free coffee. Most young dudes that I asked would just laugh at the question, answering, “No, sorry!” with a grin. The majority of people were simply confused. Some probably didn’t know what it was, but they knew that they didn’t accept it.

A bit defeated, I went back to Woot Bear. Now that it was open, I asked the shopkeeper if they still accept bitcoin.

“Bitcoin?” she asked, pausing her phone conversation for a moment. “Oh, no, I’m sorry we don’t anymore.”

I expected as much — past results were becoming indicative of future ones.

I asked her why they’d stopped. She told me that, apparently, the payment processor they used was no longer operational.

Still, she went on to sing bitcoin’s praises emphatically to the fellow who was still on the other end of her phone call.

“Bitcoin was great!” she told him. “It was fee-less and it would automatically convert to money in your bank account.”

She was treating it like some arcane truth, stammering while explaining how they used to use it and the value it carried.

“I don’t know what it is,” she ultimately confessed.

Phone calls, store visits, solicitations, holding that sign like a lunatic. Nothing would bring me the opportunity to spend bitcoin.

I left Woot Bear — the coincidental significance of its name including “bear” only now starting to register — with my confidence in disrepair. Still, I tried a few more shops to no avail and had an encounter that I won’t recount here for fear of being put on an FBI watch list.

Stopping to record what just happened (and clueing my buddies in — we have a running tally on surreal encounters), I was interrupted by an older, flustered, Indian man.

“Is that you?” he asked, pointing to my sign as it rested on the shop’s sandwich-board sign.

Thinking he was interested in my sign (he was the first person to stop to read it), I enthusiastically replied in the affirmative.

“Well, stop it. This is my sign, my shop.” The man gestured at the storefront.

“Oh, sorry, I was just typing something up — just using your sign for a second.”

“Okay, I don’t care if you need it for a minute,” he said as he stepped farther out on the sidewalk, seemingly to monitor my loitering.

Walking to the panhandle of Golden Gate Park, I was resigned to not finding anywhere on Haight that would take bitcoin, but not to finding nowhere that would take it.

Posted up on a bench outside a public basketball court, I called up a few places I had left to check with.

Nothing.

They’d all stopped taking bitcoin some time ago. A tone of brisk agitation usually followed my questions.

Frustrated, I gave up. The constant Google queries, calls and typing — all my activity had been eating into my phone’s battery — with hunger eating at my concentration: I’d had enough. My phone was at 5 percent, so I called an Uber and retreated to the apartment.

I’m typing this in the Uber and it’s honestly hard to focus with this empty burning in my gut.

San Francisco’s roller coaster landscape didn’t help. Most of what I wrote in the Uber was crap.

Back at the apartment, I ordered Curry Up Now again. The deconstructed samosas and sexy fries were very much a transcendent experience, probably both because they were undeniably delicious and because my stomach was ready to turn in on itself.

I was fed, but I wasn’t satisfied. My pact was broken: I couldn’t use bitcoin in any stores or restaurants, and the reality was becoming very clear that I likely wouldn’t get the chance.

I wasn’t thriving like I would have hoped — or really expected. Sure, saying I’ve been surviving wouldn’t be quite right, because it’s been unequivocally easy to use Bitrefill to get more Uber credit. But there’s no diversity in purchases, just travel and food. Not only have I not been able to spend it in the city, but I haven’t been able to experience the different ways that I could spend it.

Frustrated and disappointed, I watched the Saints play (and beat) the Eagles in the NFC division round and wrote a little more. Another night of being fed by a friend, as Michelle cooked risotto and had her folks over.

Before dinner was served, I heard Michelle talk about the experiment with them. Her mother took to the topic with quick fascination but diagnosed the potential difficulties with it.

“Oh, that’s going to be tough, but if he can do it anywhere, it would be here,” her mom said.

Let me tell ya, lady — you have no idea.

As Kashmir Hill did in her original journey, Colin is accepting BTC tips to help him along the way.

Tip jar: 3CnLhqitCjUN4HPYf6Qa2MmvCpSoBiFfBN

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

from InvestmentOpportunityInCryptocurrencies via Ella Macdermott on Inoreader https://bitcoinmagazine.com/articles/living-bitcoin-day-3-brother-can-you-take-sat/

[auburnfamilynews]

Spectacular first half, sluggish second half. What does the rabbling mob say?

We witnessed an Auburn team run out to a big lead over a divisional opponent, and cruise to a victory by three touchdowns. The second half left a bad taste in our mouth after the lead we did have, and the garbage points are always bittersweet — on one hand, it’s nice that we’re a bit miffed about Ole Miss scoring a couple of late touchdowns to put a damper on what was otherwise a domination from start to finish, but those points still suck. We care about the stats, damnit!

Alright, so what do our contributors think about this one?

JAMES JONES

38-3 after 31 minutes. At that point it was smart to close ranks, get out with the W, and get ready for Baton Rouge. I’m not 100% happy with the tackling, but Ole Miss is the best offense we’ll face this month. Job done. Go to hell Ole Miss.

TUCO

Ole Miss left their starters in the whole game to ensure they could walk out of Jordan Hare with their fins high. Auburn is dangerous. The offense has the ability to put up 30+ against pretty much the rest of our schedule and the defense should be able to hold opponents under 17. Our offense isn’t perfect. Kerryon is still feeling the hamstring. The receivers need to run consistent routes. The line let the pressure get to Stidham. But this is a very balanced offense and that’s creating favorable matchups.

DUSTY MILLER

Very happy with the win. Loved every minute of the first half. KJ was a beast. Stidham and the receivers were on the same page. Play calling was beautiful. Defense was strong.

Despised just about everything about the second half. I know it was an early kickoff, but next time can they at least wait until after the game is over before taking a nap?

SON OF CROW

Perfect win. Auburn is averaging over 45 points in SEC play and is 3-0 in conference. I have zero complaints and can not fathom how anyone could have any. Who deserves the credit for this offense? Who deserves the credit for this quarterback’s astronomical improvement over week 1?

Gus haters, @ me.

DR. Z

First half was a thing of beauty. Kerryon looked like Adrian Peterson against the land (chuckle) sharks. Stidham made some great throws. Defensively I thought we weren’t crisp, even in the first half. Also really nice to see Noah Igbinoginee show a flash of greatness on the kickoff return.

The team lost focus after the kickoff return. The offensive line began to wallow a good bit. It’s tough to go back out and keep the sam level of intensity when mentally you know it’s over.

Give Ole Miss credit for not completely quitting like they did last week.

All things being said, it’s pretty hard to complain about about the win. Next week we’ll get LSU’s best shot. My guess is they’ll be pretty desperate by then.

RYAN STERRITT

I don't remember the last time consecutive games in JHS have been so relaxingly fun. Sure, maybe a few things weren't perfect, like the coverage in the middle of the field, but when you're facing a guy that lives outside the pocket like Shea Patterson, there's eventually going to be some coverage breakdowns. The young guys gave up some plays late, which happens, but as I heard someone else say, if you lose the second half 21-9 but still win by 21... You had a pretty good day.

Kerryon Johnson had a heck of a game and Stidham just kept up the ridiculous completion percentage numbers. Casey Dunn at C looks like the tweak of the century for the O-line right now. The offense is bon-a-fide, y'all.

All is well on the Plains. Let's enjoy the ride.

EMILY RIOS

I mostly listened to this game on the radio and missed the entire third quarter. So, I can’t add too much other than 1) great first half 2) even an injured KJ is a damn force 3) good to see Legatron back and breaking records 4) we’re damn lucky to have Rod and Stan on the radio.

JACK CONDON

Yeah, seeing the final score be much closer than it actually was is stupid, but for the third straight week in conference play, we’ve had backups in while the other side is playing starters. This is the first time in three games that those backups failed to play all that well against a team trying to save face. I can accept that. Let’s not turn into those Bama fans (or head coaches) upset that each game doesn’t start 40-0 in their favor, and any win by less than 50 is a travesty and a poorly-played game.

It’s clear that we’re improving every week on offense, implementing new things, and we’re still not all the way there yet. Stidham is playing like the most efficient quarterback in the SEC, and one of the best in the country lately, and the run game started to finally hit its stride yesterday without the help of the big play in the passing game.

Kerryon Johnson is definitely still hobbled, but if he can run for 11 touchdowns in three SEC games, and cross the 200-yard mark as well, I think we’re in good shape. Kam Martin even looked like a bit of a power runner yesterday at times. I was glad to see the intermediate passing game come back in, with Stidham going for some second and third options for short gains instead of focusing on the long ball.

On defense, they’re still great. We just haven’t really faced a passing attack like the Rebels’, and when they’re trying to score late, it’ll be hard to stop them with a team that frankly was 1) backups and 2) already looking ahead to Baton Rouge.

LSU winning yesterday was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to us, as they won’t be frothing for a victory quite so much now. Our late game struggles also didn’t hurt, since there’s something to work on now in the film room. We should be favored to get our first win in Baton Rouge, and I think we’ll be up to the task.

You’ll have a top ten team, Tiger fans, once the polls come out in a couple hours. Enjoy it! War Eagle!

from College and Magnolia http://bit.ly/2wGICFL