#green chauffeur services

[jonathannsmith0706]

Your Sustainable Chauffeur: Leading the Way in Eco-Friendly Travel ?

In today’s world, sustainability is more than just a trend — it’s a responsibility. As the demand for environmentally conscious services grows, the transportation industry is stepping up to offer greener options. One area where this is particularly evident is in the rise of Sustainable Chauffeur Services London. These services are designed to provide the luxury and comfort of traditional chauffeur services while minimizing environmental impact. In the United Kingdom, Sustainable Chauffeurs London are setting new standards for eco-friendly travel.

The Rise of Green Chauffeurs in London

The push for sustainability in the chauffeur industry has led to the emergence of Green Chauffeurs London. These professionals are dedicated to reducing carbon emissions and promoting eco-friendly practices in every aspect of their service. hether it’s through the use of electric or hybrid vehicles, or by adopting energy-efficient driving techniques, green chauffeur companies are redefining luxury travel with a focus on sustainability.

What Makes a Chauffeur Service Sustainable?

A green chauffeur company prioritizes the environment by integrating sustainable practices into their operations. This includes using a fleet of low-emission or zero-emission vehicles, such as electric cars, which are now becoming the norm among green chauffeur services. These vehicles offer the same level of comfort and luxury as traditional cars but with a significantly reduced environmental footprint. Additionally, Sustainable Chauffeurs London are trained to drive in a manner that maximizes fuel efficiency and minimizes unnecessary idling, further contributing to their eco-friendly approach.

Private Jet Charter and Sustainability

The concept of sustainability is also making waves in the world of private aviation. Jet charter companies are increasingly offering private jet charter services that focus on reducing carbon emissions. This can include offsetting emissions through various environmental programs, using more fuel-efficient aircraft, or even exploring the use of sustainable aviation fuels. By aligning with green chauffeur services, clients can now experience a completely sustainable journey, from the car ride to the airport to the flight itself.

The Benefits of Choosing a Sustainable Chauffeur Service

Opting for Sustainable Chauffeur Services London offers numerous benefits. Beyond the obvious environmental advantages, clients can enjoy the peace of mind that comes with knowing their travel choices are contributing to a healthier planet. Moreover, Green Chauffeurs London provide the same high standards of service expected from luxury transportation, ensuring that eco-conscious clients do not have to compromise on comfort or style.

Conclusion

As the world becomes increasingly aware of the importance of sustainability, industries across the board are adapting to meet the demand for greener practices. In the United Kingdom, Sustainable Chauffeurs London are leading the charge in the transportation sector. By offering green chauffeur services that combine luxury with eco-friendliness, these companies are not only meeting the needs of their clients but also paving the way for a more sustainable future. Whether you’re heading to a business meeting, a special event, or even a private jet charter, choosing a green chauffeur company ensures that your journey is as kind to the planet as it is to you.

[enviedear]

my modern!jace hcs and thoughts…

request ⊹ jacaerys masterlist

౨ৎ ┄───────╮ got a bit carried away with what was supposed to be hcs... but i can't help it! modern!jace scratches an itch somewhere in my brain—especially lawyer/law student!jace. don't question the family dynamics too much for this au. i don't have the brain capacity to rearrange and fix that mess <3

╰───────┄ ౨ৎ

twenty-two and a recent graduate. he majored in law with a minor in public policy. his younger brother, lucerys, makes frequent comments about how boring it all must be, but jacaerys velaryon loves it. he’s following the family line, after all.

he took office at one of his mother’s law firms, a by-product of having a family in the affairs of state. however, the firm is actually headed by his mother’s aunt, rhaenys. his mother, rhaenyra is in the middle of an election, running opposite otto hightower—a man jacaerys is lax to admit kinship to.

on paper he’s an associate, in practice, he’s whatever his family and their board need him to be. he likes it that way—being dependable.

he has such a large family, even disregarding those somewhat estranged. if you asked him to directly place everyone to their respective titles he couldn’t, so he settles for the ease of endless uncles, aunts, and cousins.

his schedule is usually packed—so when he is free, he likes to spend his time well. his best friend, cregan, gets him out of the house most the time. an easy task since the stark family owns numerous ski resorts. a perfect respite from his life of public service, at least that’s what cregan says.

jace absolutely hates the media, not necessarily social media though. his instagram stories are frequently full of reposts or camera roll dumps, his twitter constantly active but he mourns public likes. he loves to engage with factitious headlines about himself and his family, to his mother’s chagrin. he’s blocked on all social media by the estranged hightower news, headed by his mother’s old friend turned step-mother, alicent. a topic the family attempts to gloss over when in public.

has a laundry list of fashion houses at his disposal. he went viral once for “mogging” in armani at his grandfather’s funeral. he drunkenly admitted after the service that he figured viserys would have deemed it a rather lovely suit, despite the occasion. mostly, he shares his uncle laenor’s love for couture, a man who is firm in belief that a bit of pageantry never hurt anyone. almost exclusively wears canali for everyday wear, a luxury his paychecks find no issue with fulfilling.

listens to every single book he 'reads'. his airpods are constantly in his ears but he rarely opts for music. he listens to the greats on repeat, or at least that's what he calls them—near constant loops of orwell and machiavelli. he has a guilty pleasure for brandon sanderson novels though.

jacaerys is embarrassed to have a chauffeur for any and all events with his family, but he does an excellent job at hiding it. he’s is chronically good at masking any signs of disdain. his family would tell you he’s perfectly agreeable— his brothers, lucerys and joffrey, know him better, can spot his muddled ill temper through anything. he can hold his tongue most of the time, far better than the rest of his family, but he’s known to have his moments.

on his own, he drives a aston martin valour. wrapped olive green with burnt orange accents. it was pricey, a fact his uncle corlys never ceases to remind him of, but he loves it. gave it a name and everything—vermax.

the only cousins he talks to regularly are the twins, baela and rhaena. they flock together during board meetings, three ideal images of the pristine image their family attempts to portray. he and baela are most like minded, so much so that the rest of the board jokes they’re reading each others minds.

on the opposite end of the spectrum, alicent’s children— aegon, aemond, and helena, are of much different minds. the eldest of the them is prepped to take over his grandfather’s media empire. a complete disaster waiting to happen given aegon’s incessant and very public bad behavior. jace figures the young man more of a puppet if anything. the second born is somehow an even worse case, behavior less public but far more… sadistic. aemond is known in well to do social circles for his vitriol, mouth constantly fixed to land a cutting blow.

the youngest, helena, is actually quite sweet albeit heavily reclusive. she’s the founder of several successful ventures, thrust into the spotlight at a young age. these days the most the public get from her is a monthly blog update—refined and well crafted—detailing a mix of what she learned that month and a few run-on sentences about insects. but she always finds time for him at their disjointed family events, no matter the animosity in the room. she’s one of his favorite people to talk to. jace swears that somehow, she always knows just what to say.

on sunday’s he winds up at one of his uncle daemon’s golf courses. am agreement he took up after the death of viserys. his uncle is lonely without his brother, and he’s never had to tell jace that for him to know it. jace is rather shit at the sport, but he’s found that as long as daemon has a drink in his hand, nothing will be commented on. sometimes luke will tag along just to gloat, his younger brother has always been at golf.

every christmas he takes his siblings on a hunt. just like their dad, harwin, used to. it’s gotten to be a big deal after so many years. his mother often reminds him, jokingly, that he is the reason their home has become the holiday stomping grounds. he’s replied back many times that at least that saves them from the hightower’s grounds, and their brutish security detail. headed by one criston cole, he’s has never gotten a good feel for the man—or the men under his command.

jace can’t fall asleep without some form of auditory stimulation. he blames laenor, always gifting a young jace pirated lullaby cd’s… for some reason. nowadays, he’s usually a listening to a history podcast before bed. never picky on the topic or timeframe, he could listen to the tales of the past forever.

additionally—jacaerys loves linguistics. if you looked through his search history you’d find the following searches: why do we feel different when speaking in a different language? / are there languages with no numbers? / what happened to the transatlantic accent? / “where did the word ‘cocktail’ come from?

he has successfully created and maintained a masked dj persona after a drunken dare in ibiza from rhaena. he’s booked a handful of gigs, all without his name attached to it. rhaena keeps it a secret, at the promise she gets to accompany him at her own whim.

jace has only ever publicly has had one relationship. he dated cregan’s half-sister for a few years, sara. sure he had to deal with his best friends griping for a few years, but he really did love the girl. they broke up due to their schedules, moreso, his schedule. he promised baela he won’t make the same mistake in his next relationship.

he never has trouble finding people to fawn over him, but he does have a horrible issue with committing. not that he wants to play the field or hurt hearts, but he truly believes no one will ever give him the grace he needs to feel secure in the relationship. he feels like he already has too much baggage, carrying his own and his family’s. at this point, he’d rather have a few hookups as opposed to being let down—jacaerys hates that the most about himself, above all else.

that’s why he so confused as of late. unable to seem get his mind off of someone—something completely unaccustomed to him. you’re fresh at the firm, relegated to coffee runs and still straight to the book but god—jace thinks you're perfect.

he didn't even fully grasp his fixation on you until asking himself why on earth he keeps volunteering you to sit in on his client meetings. he almost shutters everytime he remembers the stupid excuse he forced out after you dared to ask him why—"i just write so slow, and i don't want to miss anything." a lie. jacaerys could tune out a client for an entire session and still win a case, but he determined early he'd rather bask in yout presence instead. however diluted he must keep his feelings...

[scotianostra]

Muriel Thompson a decorated Scottish World War I ambulance driver, racing driver and suffragist was born on this day 1875.

Thompson was born on 10th June 1875 in Aberdeen, Scotland to Agnes Marion Williamson, the second wife of Cornelius Thompson, a shipowner and marine architect. She was the fifth of eight children. Her grandfather George Thompson had been Lord Provost of Aberdeen and an MP for the city.

Thompson was an avid motorist, and from an early age she drove the family car. She and her brothers helped found the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club. On 4 July 1908 she won the first ladies’ motor race held at Brookland, the Ladies’ Bracelet Handicap, she caused quite a stir by beating the wife of the racetrack’s owner with metres to spare.

After the race, Muriel was greeted by cries of “women deserve the vote now!” She agreed, and was hired as a chauffeur by the Women’s Social and Political Union. Driving a green Austin with white wheels and purple stripes – the suffragette colours – she took Emmeline Pankhurst on her 1909 national tour

Her daredevil driving skills proved lifesaving during the First World War. In 1915, she signed up to the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, and us Scots must have a slight snigger at the acronym, FANY.

Three months later, she was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Order of Leopold II by King Albert of Belgium for evacuating wounded soldiers under fire. Alongside her Calais convoy, in 1917, she became one of the first women to drive for the British Army, who had until that point refused FANY’s services.

Thompers, as her colleagues called her, kept meticulous diaries while abroad. They reveal the horrors of war, but also the camaraderie and independence she experienced.

Muriel saved hundreds of lives during the war. In January 1918, she became Commanding Officer of the newly-formed St Omer convoy, and was awarded the Military Medal and the Croix de Guerre for her fearless fight to evacuate the injured during air raids.

Muriel returned to Britain two months before the war ended and resigned from FANY in 1922 – she was one of the bravest and best they had. Muriel died a few months before the Second World War broke out.

Photos are of Muriel Thompson and her medals include: Military Medal 1914-18; 1914-15 Star; British War Medal 1914-20; Allied Victory Medal 1914-19 with oak leaf for Mentioned in Dispatches; Order of Leopold II, Belgium, 1914-18, Badge of the 5th Class; Croix de Guerre, France 1914-18.

[m3talmunson]

Nobody had ever payed Steve much attention. That was, until Eddie.

Eddie saw right through him. His piercing stare questioned every fibre of Steve's being, picked him apart and put him back together.

So, I guess, to say NOBODY had ever payed attention to Steve would be an exaggeration. He had Robin, and Dustin, and once upon a time Nancy. But Eddie was the first to pay attention in the way Steve so desperately needed.

~~~~~

Eddie noticed things. Eddie had always read people, it had been the one thing he was good at that he didn't get from his father. And being thrown into this upside-down-situation gave him many new people to read.

By far, the most intriguing was Steve.

There's a lot you can see in someone's face when you're about three inches away from it. There's a lot more you can see if you're holding a broken bottle to their neck, but the one thing you should absolutely see is fear. Not relief, and definitely not understanding, not acceptance? But those are the things Eddie saw in Steve's face, despite the sharp green glass dangerously close to grazing his adam's apple.

Eddie noticed how Steve was almost begging for a chance to dance with death, as long as it helped his friends. Steve seemingly didn't care if it would kill him, didn't care if he took the fall as long as all of his friends got out safe. He was almost relieved to be the one dancing with death. Eddie hoped it was because it meant none of his friends were walking the line between life and death, and not because Steve was no longer afraid of dying, not because it meant he was almost free from life and it's woes. Eddie also knew he was wrong in that hope.

Eddie saw, afterwards, the avoidance Steve exhibited. Eddie noticed how Steve only saw himself as a shield for those children. Plus a chauffeur, a bonus when they didn't need shielding. Eddie noticed how Steve only saw himself as a sacrificial lamb, how all of his contributions to the group were either services or monetary. Steve never let himself do anything he enjoyed with the group, he only was there to make sure the rest of the group members were enjoying themselves.

Steve had coached Lucas in basketball, even though he hadn't been able to pick up a basketball before that point since Billy Hargrove's death. He had filled that brother-shaped-hole in Max's life after it too.

Eddie noticed how the kids gave Steve a reason to live. And Eddie was determined to become on of those reasons.

[leftfield-fm]

Scott Ross says of that evening:

The first time I dropped pills was with Brian. I think I knew even then that one day he was going to kill himself with an overdose. He went at it in a crazy way, mixing ups and downs, red pills, yellow pills, pills with stripes on them. “You ought to try this,” Brian said, handing me a fistful of multi-coloured capsules. I don’t think even he knew what they were. Somebody had given them to him and Brian was the kind to try anything. …a party was going on, had been going on for four days. Brian popped four of the pills into his mouth. “Groovy,” he said. I took two of them and they were groovy all right! When we walked back into the party a little later, I felt like I was the tallest one in the room. “Let’s go over to my hotel,” Brian said. “I’ve got some of the good stuff, straight from Mexico.” I had never smoked marijuana, but the mood I was in, anything sounded good. As Brian’s chauffeur-driven Cadillac was heading crosstown, the street-lights began to look brown to me. I figured it was the pills. But then they went out altogether. The lights in the stores were out, too. I rolled down the window. Women were screaming. “Maybe the world is coming to an end,” Brian said. The traffic lights weren’t working and the limousine slowed to a crawl. Automobile headlights were the only illumination on the streets. At last, our driver weaved his way through the snarl to the hotel. I wouldn’t have believed it. In spite of the weird, blacked-out city, there was a group of teeny-boppers in front of the main entrance waiting for Brian to come back. “There he is!” they shouted. “Quick!” said Brian. He pushed me through the service door and waved to the man on duty. Obviously, the guy had been through this before, because he had the door locked behind us almost before we were through it. He handed us a candle and showed us how to get up to the lobby since the elevators weren’t working. The lobby, too, was candle-lit. We climbed a lot of flights to Brian’s suite. We were taking our coats off when there was a knock on the door. Brian took the candle and opened it. It was Bob Dylan with a bunch of people. “It’s an invasion from Mars,” said Bob. They all came in and we stood at Brian’s windows looking out over the dark city. It was wild, like Glasgow in the war. “Let’s turn on,” said Bob. “What better time? The little green men have landed.” Brian rolled me my first marijuana cigarette. Neither he nor Bob could believe that I had never smoked pot. By now, they were saying on the transistor radio that the blackout was probably nothing more than a massive power failure. But we knew better. It was the end of the world and we were going out on cloud nine.

That night, Brian took part in a jam session with Dylan, Robbie Robertson and Bobby Neuwirth in his room. They played acoustic guitars by candle-light, but there was no power to record the music: this session was always referred to later as “The Lost Jam.”

excerpt from Bill Wyman's memoir, Stone Alone

[imagines-fandom-backup]

Chapter 2.1

Masterlist

Warnings- Usual PB violence, swearing, allusion to SA at the very end

2 years later

All of us were gathered around Freddie's casket. Tommy stepped forward. "I promised my friend, Freddie Thorne, that I would say a few words over his grave if he should pass before me. I made this promise before he became my brother-in-law, when we were in France, fighting for the king. And in the end, it wasn't war that took Freddie. Pestilence took him. But Freddie passed on his soul and his spirit to a new generation before he was cruelly taken." The service ended right after that.

I took a little walk with Thomas and Ada. 

"We thought now that Freddie's gone, you might come back to Birmingham."

"We really miss you, Ada."

"God, do you know how funny it is that Tommy's got chauffeurs in uniform now?"

"It's just for the occasion."

"Do you know how unfair it is that you have 4 Bugattis when half the country's starving?"

"So now they've made you ashamed of us, eh?" We stopped walking.

"Sometimes when I think about how I used to be, it makes me embarrassed." Tommy and I glanced at each other. 

Polly walked up to us with a smile. 

"Karl is with his cousins. I caught them trying to pinch flowers off a grave. Ada, are you coming home?" 

"I'm going home."

"We make her embarrassed," I mumbled. 

I looked at Ada who rolled her eyes. 

"That's not what I said."

"There's another reason we want you home. We're planning an expansion. I'm taking premises in London."

"Tommy, it's a funeral. Business can wait."

"Polly, if Ada was weeping, then I'd stop. But she's not. The expansion means it's gonna be dangerous to be a Shelby in London for a while."

"Yeah. Well, I'm not a Shelby anymore. And I'm not a Thorne now either. I'm free. I've got to get Karl home." She walked away. 

She left the 3 of us standing there. Polly turned to look at Tommy. 

"I told you to let me do it."

"It's alright. I'll have some men watch her house till the danger passes." We watched a man on a motorbike ride up to Arthur. 

He quickly whispered something to Arthur. Arthur waved Tommy over as he started walking toward us. Aunt Polly leaned over to me. 

"Till danger passes."

"That'll be the bloody day." She nodded as we walked towards the crowd. 

Tommy, Aunt Polly, a few of our men, and I went to the Garrison. Someone had blown it up. We walked underneath the chains to get a better look. A copper was already there waiting for us. "It happened at exactly 7:00 a.m. Nobody saw anything. Our patrols were not in the area. Mr. Shelby, you got any idea who might have done it? I'd say it was something to do with the gas." 

We both know that's not true. We knew exactly who did it and why. He handed money to the copper. "Just been fitted." Aunt Polly walked inside. "Madam, the structure hasn't been declared safe. Madam," he yelled after her. 

She bent over to pick something up off the ground. ​​"This is all over the place." She handed some to Tommy. It was green confetti. What the hell? Tommy nodded to the copper.

"You can go."

"Right." He walked away. 

We stood there looking at the building. "Who? Who did this to us," Aunt Polly asked. Tommy and I went to a pub to find the people who did this. "Whiskey, Irish. None for her." He flopped his hat down on the counter. The bartender poured him the drink. Tommy put the money on the counter only for it to be pushed back to him. 

"Heard there was a bit of a bang in your part of town."

"Gas and electric don't mix. Who would've thought they would, eh?"

"How's business otherwise, Mr. Shelby?"

"You know something? In these times of hunger and hardship, business is surprisingly good." He turned to lean against the counter. 

He took a swig of his drink. A little boy walked down the old wooden steps. His heavy footsteps echoed through the small building. "Which one is the Peaky Blinder devils?" Tommy downed his drink to follow after the little boy. I was right behind him. We followed the little boy through backyards and alleyways. 

We had no idea where he was taking us. We walked inside a warehouse with one pig hanging up on a metal hook. It was naked and gutted. 2 men grabbed us from behind. They stripped us of our hats, guns, and coats. They put bags over our heads before pulling us along. They sat us down on wooden chairs before taking the bags off. 

We were sitting in a tiny room. A man and a woman sat across from us. There was an old table separating us. There was barely any light in the room. The only light was from the spaces between the boarded-up windows. 

"Thomas and Anna Shelby."

"You blew up our pub."

"Anger defeats fear. Good."

"You blew up my pub." 

"Tommy has a reputation to uphold," she looked over at her partner.

Her partner looked Tommy up and down. He finally spoke. 

"A reputation for not being scared of anything."

"In all the world, violent men are the easiest to deal with," she seemed to almost laugh.

Tommy glanced at me then back to them. "So tell me, which brand of rebel are you...eh? I read somewhere that you Paddies started fighting amongst yourselves now. The king offers you a peace treaty and you start a war about it. That's funny, don't you think? A war about peace." It went silent as the 4 of us stared at each other. 

"So are you for the treaty or against the treaty? Forgive me, I get confused," he leaned back in his chair. Her partner slowly reached for the gun. He got up from his chair, dragging the gun on the table as he walked over to me. The lady crossed her arms over her chest.

"You are one decision away from your deaths, Mr. Shelby." 

"So stop fucking smiling," her partner snapped.

I cleared my throat as I shifted in my seat. "Your name is Irene O'Donnell. You have a son at the Cherry Wood Road School in Harborne. He has irons on his legs. His name is Sean. He comes last in every race...poor boy. Poor boy, race is important. If you know what I mean, Irene." The gun was cocked and held to the side of my head. 

It was cold on my temple. Her partner didn't seem too smart. "Oh, she speaks. There are other ways of carrying out this mission. Please allow me to put the bullet in the scum tinker's head." Irene watched as she waited for my reaction. She wasn't getting one out of me. 

She still stared at me. 

"No. They research their enemies. That's why they've been chosen."

"We are chosen," Tommy asked. 

I looked at her partner. "I'm chosen."

"Can the chosen one smoke," Tommy asked again. 

The gun was taken from my head. Tommy reached in his pocket for his cigarettes. 

"A vacancy has appeared and you are going to fill it."

"Chosen by whom?"

"An informed consensus."

"We have things to do. So perhaps you could tell the chosen ones what we've been chosen for."

"From now on, you shut your fucking Gypsy mouthes and listen to your instructions." We were ushered out of the room. 

Our jackets and guns were hanging on the hooks next to the naked pig. We didn't say anything to each other as we got dressed. "Fuck," Tommy yelled as he knocked over some boxes. I stood aside as I watched him. Why can't anything just be normal? He wiped his mouth with his hand before putting on his coat and hat. 

I went home as Tommy went to his office. I guess the look on my face told Aunt Polly that I didn't want to talk about what happened. She could hear it from Tommy. We had a family meeting soon anyway. We sat around waiting for Tommy to get here. Finn was pacing back and forth. "Sit down, Finn," Arthur snapped. 

Finn finally sat down next to me. John looked at Aunt Polly who was staring out of the window. 

"Where the bloody hell is Tommy?"

"He is on his way."

"Alright then, while we're waiting patiently...Whiskey. Left over from the explosion. Good stuff." He put a crate on top of the table. 

He started pouring us all glasses. After the day I've had, I wasn't going to say no. John cleared his throat. 

"Right, before Tommy gets here, I think there are a few things we need to get straight between the rest of us."

"You think?"

"Yes, Anna. I want to know...when did we take a vote on this expansion south?" He waited for an answer. 

Aunt Polly turned around, walking closer to the table. 

"You have anything to say, you wait for Thomas."

"Polly's fucking right," Arthur agreed. 

"I see all the books. Legal and off-track. So stuff you don't see-"

"I see the books too, John-"

"And in the past year, the Shelby Company Limited has been making 150 pounds a day. Right? A fucking day! Sometimes more. So what I wanna know is why are we changing things? Polly, look what's happened already. Haven't even set foot in London yet, they've already blown up our fucking pub."

"Who said anything about Cockneys," Arthur asked. 

"Who else," Esme asked. 

"Do you know who did it," I asked as I turned to look at her. 

"No, she doesn't know who did it," John interjected. 

"I'm told only family is allowed to speak." She looked back down at her book. 

Tommy walked into the room. No one saw him until he spoke. "Everyone is allowed to speak. On your feet, Esme. Let's hear what you have to say." John cleared his throat. He stood up a little straighter as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. 

"I speak for your household. So could-"

"John, this company is a modern enterprise and believes in equal rights for women. On your feet, Esme." Esme looked at John as she put her book aside. 

She slowly stood up. 

"I'm not a blood member of this family. But perhaps indeed because I'm not a member, I could see things in a different light. So I'll get to my point."

"That would be nice."

"Aunt Pol," I whispered as I gently nudged her. 

She shrugged as she lit her cigarette. "As my husband said, Shelby Company Limited has become very successful. But London...I have kin and Shepherd's Bush and Portobello. It's more like wars between armies down there. And the coppers fight side-by-side with them. And there are foreigners of every description. And the use of bombs is the least of it. I have a child. Blessed with the Shelby family's good looks. I want John to see him grow up. I want us to someday live somewhere with fresh air and trees. And keep chickens or something. But London is just smoke and trouble, Thomas. That's all I have to say," She sat back down. 

Arthur stared straight ahead. "That was a lot of words. A lot of words. Wash them down with a nice drink." He handed Tommy a glass of Whiskey. "Thank you, Esme." Tommy finished his drink. 

He lit his cigarette. 

"Firstly the bag in the pub had nothing to do with London, understood? The bang is something I'm dealing with on me own. Secondly, we have nothing to fear from the proposed business expansion as long as we stick together. After the first few weeks, nine-tenths of what we do in London will be legal. The other tenth is in good hands. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

"That's right."

"Some of you in this room have expressed your reservations. Fair enough. Any of you who want no part in the future of this company, walk out the door. Right now. Go raise your chickens. For those of you with ambition, the expansion process starts tomorrow." Tommy walked out of the room. 

The next morning, I was invited to go on a holiday with the boys. Arthur and I waited outside of John's house for Tommy to get the car and for John to come outside. I called up to his window. 

"Tommy's here."

"Alright, hold on." Tommy got out and stood next to the car. 

"John," Tommy yelled this time. "I'm coming!" John's voice sounded louder this time. 

Arthur took a swig out of the bottle he was holding. Tommy looked over wondering what it was. "Seven o'clock, twelve, ten if I'm still sober. I got it from the doctor." He handed it to Tommy. "It keeps me nice and calm." Tommy smelled the brown liquid. 

He pointed it at Arthur.

"Same thing they gave us in the trenches, stop us fucking wanking."

"Polly said it's good for me temper. It slows me down. "

"Arthur, there are some things Polly doesn't understand." Tommy turned the bottle over to pour it out. 

"Tommy," I shouted. 

He shook the bottle to get the remaining drops out. "I need you fast, not slow." He tossed the bottle to the side. John finally came out of the house.  "She wouldn't let go of me fucking leg."

"I bet that's not all she wouldn't let go of," Arthur laughed. 

"You know she's against this, Tom. She's got opinions."

"Nothing wrong with opinions, John."

"Get in the fucking car."

"Shut up!" We all climbed in. 

I sat in the back with John as Arthur climbed in front. "Peaky Blinders are going on fucking holiday," Arthur shouted as he stood up. "Sit down, you mad bastard." John pulled him back into the leather seat. We drove until we hit the field. The boys got out to take a pee break. I got out of the car to stretch my legs. 

They were making jokes about raising chickens and living in the countryside. As we walked back to the car, Tommy ripped up a tarp from the very back seat. There was a body in the back.

"Who the hell is that?"

"It's Irish business. I thought it'd be best to deal with it meself."

"I was sitting that close to a random dead guy? I'm not helping." I hopped into the front of the car as they buried him. 

We finished our trip to London by night. We walked into a crowded club. It was full of drunks and druggies. The music hurt my ears. The people dancing around us were giving me a headache. John seemed to like the atmosphere. I did not. 

We found a table in the middle of the room to sit at. They brought out a bottle of booze. "Isn't this Sabini's club," I yelled over the music. Tommy nodded as the waiter put the bottle down. 

"Jesus Christ. Everybody in here is a fucking face."

"Just the lieutenants, John. No sign of the officers." 

"Let's line 'em up," John smirked as he lined up the glasses. 

He started to pour us all a drink. A different waiter walked over to our table. 

"There has been a mistake. I'm afraid you are going to have to leave."

"We just bought a fucking bottle," John shouted.

"A couple of the men know you from the tracks in the north."

"We get that a lot."

"They say you have no business coming south of the line without prior agreement."

"What line would that be, my friend?"

"They say, this is provocation."

"Right, well, you tell them we're on holiday," I smirked as I held up my drink.

I took a drink as did Tommy. "You're breaking the rules. They say you are the Peaky Blinders." A glass was thrown at our table. It shattered everywhere. "Peaky scum," someone shouted. Tommy immediately turned to that person. 

A giant fight broke out. We fought until a gun went off. The waiter was pointing a gun at us. "Get out," was all he said. We had no choice but to make our way outside. "We came here not to make enemies but to make new friends. Those of you who are last will be first. You know where to find us," Tommy announced on our way out. We took the bottle of booze with us. 

We walked back to the car. Arthur reached into his mouth. 

"I think I lost a fucking tooth. At this rate, I won't have any. Some fucking holiday this is."

"Yeah. You lost without your fucking medicine now, Arthur?"

"Here, this'll fix you."

"Give me that." He took the bottle of Whiskey from Tommy. 

Tommy pointed to John as we walked along. 

"You John-boy, eh? How are you? Or should I ask your fucking wife?"

"Give over!"

"No more talk of chicken, you hear me?"

"Fuck the chickens," Arthur slurred as John broke out into a fit of laughter.

Tommy walked a little further ahead of us. "Got 50 quid in my pocket. Let's go paint the town, eh?" That's exactly what we did. We didn't get back home until late morning. We were all exhausted and drunk. It was a miracle that we made it home in one piece. It was the most fun any of us had in a while. 

I sat with Tommy in his office late at night. He sighed as he looked up from his paperwork. 

"Polly is pissed at me."

"Why's that?"

"I poured out Arthur's medicine and this came in an hour ago." He handed me a slip of paper. 

'Let's break bread.' It didn't have a name but it came from Camden Town. I sighed as I put the paper down. "Do we go see Alfie?" He shrugged as he took a drag of his cigarette. After he finished his drink, we made our way out to the garage. We didn't feel like walking home in the rain tonight. 

I flinched at the sudden cold raindrops. Luckily, we didn't have to walk far. I sighed in relief when we made it under. I put my hand on the cold door handle. The back door creaked open. A man with a gun pointed at me stepped out. I held up my hands as I backed up. 

Another man came out, then another. We tried everything to keep them off of us. They just kept coming. Tommy and I were both on the ground in seconds. They were punching and hitting us as if we were trash. I had no idea how many men there were now. I didn't even care at this point. 

I knew one or both of us were going to die. I was drifting in and out of consciousness as I lay on the wet ground. They were still working on Tommy. I wished I was unconscious. I was surprised I already wasn't. The pain was too much. "Get her over here," one of them screamed. 

They pulled me away from Tommy as I screamed. I couldn't move. Fire ripped through my body every time I did. I couldn't fight them anymore. I got a glimpse of Tommy. It was almost too dark in the garage to see. He was lifelessly laying there.

I was barely above the surface as they pulled me up. The last thing I felt before everything went dark were hands on the buttons of my pants. 

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: Spider has been free for a few years

Spice [ First | Prev | Next ]

Sam’s kitchen is always well stocked. The cupboards are full of rice and beans, lentils and pasta, dozens of spreads and sauces, flour and dried fruit and nuts, canned soups and tomatoes and more beans. 

The fridge is organised – pickles and jars at the top, then tofus and tubs like margarine and his homemade mushroom pâté. Tupperwares in the middle for easy access. Apples and potatoes and squash below that, then salad and delicate veg in the box at the bottom.

Most exciting of all, on the countertop sits a spice rack, overflowing with little glass jars full of herbs and spices in every possible shade of green and brown and autumnal orange. It spins and folds out to reveal yet more spices, which he calls a silly indulgence as he shows it off to Spider with a slightly embarrassed grin.

She sits on one of his slightly-alarmingly-unsteady kitchen chairs with her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms loosely looped around them – well aware that like this she looks innocently casual but her short shorts show off scandalous amounts of thigh and perhaps even a hint of panties – and watches with fascination as he hums over a soup pan, adding this spice and that according to some unwritten schema that she can only begin to guess at.

He only tastes it once, right at the end, to make sure it’s good before he serves it.

And it’s good, possibly the best thing Spider has ever tasted – or at least, that she remembers ever tasting.

“Why did you take me out to those expensive places,” she jokes, “when you make better food at home?”

Sam blushes. It’s cute. 

She’s never met anyone as harmless as Sam. She’s never felt safe in someone else’s space any of the times she’s let them take her home. But even here in his kitchen in his flat she can’t be afraid of Sam. The man shoos flies out of windows rather than let them dry up in the indoor air.

A week later he has her at the stove beside him, picking out herbs for a pasta bake. He flips each lid back and holds the jars out, and Spider takes deep sniffs of each, giggling at the indelicacy of it. 

She likes tarragon, and lemongrass. Sam puts both in in generous helpings, then picks out half a dozen others to “complement” them. 

When Spider asks how he decides he says “you just sniff them and imagine what would go well together.” “You didn’t sniff anything just now,” she points out. “I’ve been cooking since I was a little kid. Eventually I guess you just know what works.” “Well, I think you’re very talented.”

Later, weeks later, she stands in his kitchen on her own and contemplates the spice rack.

It’s still crazy to her that he doesn’t mind her just exploring his flat, unsupervised. She could take half the things he owns and she isn’t sure if he’d notice, let alone blame her.

And she has thought about it. Sam’s not rich, but he’s better off than most of the people Spider spends time with. Certainly better off than Spider, who on an average week has approximately nothing to her name. 

If she took his electronics, and the watch his dad gave him that he doesn’t usually wear because it’s “too fancy” for him, and maybe the nicest clothes out of his closet, Walker would take them off her hands for enough to keep Spider going for months. 

And that’s not counting the cash under Sam’s mattress, or however much she might be able to get off his card before he cancelled…

But if she did that, she’d lose a safe place to sleep. She’d lose access to the best food in town, and Sam’s service as a chauffeur, and all the other gifts and favours she gets in exchange for her charming company and her skills between the sheets.

Sam’s a good thing in her life. She’s not ready to cut and run.

She picks up a spice jar at random, flicks the lid back, and smells it. Cumin. It smells a little like Indian food.

A herb. Coriander. Sam cooks with this often. He put it in the pasta bake with the tarragon and the lemongrass.

Another herb. Bright orange turmeric. Indian again. The first time she had Indian food with Avon it brought up aberrant memories, but she couldn’t catch them before they slipped away. He decided that Indian food was her favourite because she begged to get it again and again hoping to set off the same memories, but it never worked.

Lemongrass, the one she liked. It really is quite a lot like lemon. She distracts herself for a minute searching the kitchen to see if Sam has any real lemons so that she can compare the two, but she can’t find any.

Dill. She’s ambivalent. It’s not as strong a smell as some of the others, but she isn’t sure if that’s the nature of the herb or just because there’s less left in the jar.

Cardamom is not a powder, but a whole load of little greenish pods. Spider inhales the scent, and the headache hits her like a truck.

She knows better than to double over with it. But she’s glad Sam’s asleep because she can’t fully hide it. Her face twitches against her will, her breath catches, and her mouth opens a little with the last vestiges of the primitive instinct to make noise about it. They didn’t quite train that out of her. She is still an animal, under everything else.

She sinks to the tiles and takes deep breaths, trying to force all the little muscles of her face and scalp to relax. She imagines Handler Rayce’s warm, rough hands smoothing the pain away from her temples, his voice telling her to be a good girl and let it go.

She doesn’t let it go. She closes her eyes against the pain, and takes another deep sniff of the cardamom. 

It smells like… chai. Like warmth, like tea in the morning. A dozen memories float just out of reach, like words on the tip of the tongue. She wants chai suddenly, wants it so badly it aches in her chest. She wants someone to make it for her and put it into her hands and she almost, almost knows who that someone should be but – but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know.

She sits there on the floor, huddled against the cabinets with the cardamom under her nose and breathes the headache in like a drug. Time doesn’t pass, like it never used to pass in training when the pain was so bad there was only one moment and that moment was hell.

Her skin is cold with sweat and prickly all over. Cold like the white rooms. The bright white light finds her even behind her eyelids, but she pushes it away. She wants to remember hot tea and the smell of spices and – and something about mornings –

She’s not sure if the headache eventually starts to ebb, or if she just adjusts to it. She used to be used to pain. 

She doesn’t remember what the clock read when she sat down on the cold tiles, but she knows time has passed because her nose has adjusted to the cardamom and she barely smells it any more.

She wants chai.

She can’t hold onto anything else from the aberrant memories, but she knows she wants chai.

Moving slowly so as not to jolt her throbbing head, she gets up. She puts the kettle on. 

Cardamom goes into the pot. She rips tea bags open for their leaves. Cardamom and ginger, and… cinnamon, and a little nutmeg, and… cloves, and star anise, and black pepper. He has no malai or condensed milk or even regular milk, but maybe almond milk will be okay. Better than just water.

There’s a tune somewhere in the back of her head as she stirs, but she can’t remember enough of it to hum it. Just a vague sense of the mood of it, and the stabbing, throbbing pain behind her eyes.

“Casey?” Sam is bleary-eyed in the doorway, still wearing his stupid striped pajamas. “I’m making chai,” Spider says, extra careful to keep her tone light and airy. “It’s 4AM,” says Sam. “So?”

He pulls up a chair.

“... Is there enough for me?” Spider looks down at the pan. She’s made enough for… several people, actually. “Yes,” she says. “Mm. That’s nice.”

He’s quiet while she turns off the gas and ladles the tea into mugs. But she moves too fast and makes herself wince, and Sam notices despite seeming barely aware of anything else around him.

“Are you okay, babe?” “Just a headache.” Her heart pounds, but it doesn’t mean anything. Normal people get headaches too.

Sam stands up, and he’s clumsy and his chair makes an alarming cracking creak. Both wince. “Have you taken anything for it?” he asks. “Hm?” “Painkillers.” “No.” Sweat prickles across the back of her neck. Should she have? Would that be the normal thing to do? But Sam just nods. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to remember painkillers when you have a headache,” he says. “I’ll get you some.”

By the time he gets back with the white tablets, Spider has the mugs on the table. Her hands wrap around hers, soaking up the heat to drive back the chill of the memories from training.

“Here you go.”

From anyone else, she’d think twice about swallowing mystery tablets. From Sam, they’re definitely what he says they are. He’s far too straight-laced for anything else.

“Mmm!” he exclaims as he takes his first sip. “This is really good.” He’s definitely had chai before. He’s playing it up for her sake, but that’s kinda cute too. “Chai masala,” she says. “Just like my mum used to make. Except the almond milk. We didn’t use almond milk.” “It’s delicious.”

Just like my mum used to make. 

Those words will haunt her for months. Did she make that up, like she makes up everything else about her past? Or did she remember it, before the memories slipped away? 

She doesn’t know. There’s no way to know.

[Next]

[tinytourist]

Guanabana Gang

On Friday morning, our chauffeur Stacia transported us to La Fortuna. As we approached where we thought our Airbnb was, we lost service. The directions were not at all clear, and our hanger won out, so we quit and went for lunch at the first place we saw.

It turned out to be everything we needed: fresh dragonfruit, maracuya, and guanabana juice accompanied by fresh ceviche, garlic shrimp, and wait for it…more fish. We hopped on the wifi, downloaded the map, and successfully found our Airbnb!

After checking in, we went to the Don Olivio chocolate tour. Immediately upon arrival, we were greeted with bananas, papaya, and chocolate fudge. To say the least, we were already into it. We took a quick look at the surrounding fruit trees and saw a two-toed sloth named Maria munchin’ on some hibiscus leaves.

We saw pink bananas AKA bird food, green-rinded oranges, guanabana, and cacao, and we took shots of sugar cane rum. Our guide cracked open the cacao and gave us each a bean covered in a sweet mango-flavored coating. At the end of the tour, we sat down and somehow consumed hot chocolate and pure hot coffee with a bit of fresh vanilla extract.

On our way back from the tour, we stopped at a local grocery store where we got some local coffee and an assortment of road trip snacks including ceviche-flavored plantain chips, which we ate for dinner because we were too pooped to go out.

The next morning, we had some of that 100% Arabica coffee, and Stacia & Jess were twitching, but it helped us get on the road by 7 am! Less than an hour later with a few bumps along the way, we were at Arenal River canyon for our canyoneering/zip-lining adventure.

We did 4 repels through waterfalls, 2 zip-lines, and 3 jumps into the water. Stacia was the most scared with me at a close second but only for the free-jumps. Frances took everything like a champ. Our lunch was included at the Mistico Hanging Bridges Park where we got a spectacular view of the Arenal volcano, saw an anteater, and got a huge plate of Costa Rican almuerzo.

Back at the BnB, we relaxed by reading in the hammock before getting dressed up and listening to our old college playlists. We hit up downtown La Fortuna and got two excellent tangerine ceviches because what is a meal in Costa Rica without ceviche?? We then got a drink at Lava Lounge, where we listened to some sub-par live reggae and hung out with a pregnant cat.

The next morning, we all woke up at our leisure and went to Mirador El Silencio for our morning rainforest hike, which included a trail with a great view of Arenal along volcanic rocks. We said “¡buenas!” to a few cows on our way out and then headed to the Ecotermales Hot Springs.

This is Arenal’s only truly natural hot springs, and it felt like paradise. We ate a wonderful buffet of fresh food and Stacia announced “I’ve never been happier in my life” as she held the bare chicken in her hands.

It was a little hot outside to be jumping from hot pool to hot pool but luckily we found a cooler spot and some shade. We left feeling completely relaxed.

For dinner, we went to La Street where Stacia and Frances split a huge taco platter, and I got fish with hearts of palm and mashed potatoes with a gooseberry on top. We ate until we could eat no more, and then we walked it off. Frances dove into a hearts of palm rabbit hole and learned that we should avoid single-stemmed hearts of palm.

[queenofcandynsoda]

Dystopian Omegaverse AU: Transportation

Transportation 

Transportation is regulated by the Ministry of Transportation, led by Senator Harvey Harrison. He limited the amount of cars on the road to reduce traffic and put emphasis on public transport for the lower ranks, excluding Omegas. 

Standardized 

Cars are divided into eight categories divided by color. The cars with a black license plate are government officials, from the Council to the Senate. The red ones are Omegas, usually traveling with their pups or minders. The blue ones are the clergy. The white ones are conglomerates, corporate executives, and other high-ranking businessmen. The green ones are military officials, either Alpha, Delta, or Beta Plus. The gray ones are young unmarried Alphas or Alpha pups. The purple ones are doctors, surgeons, and medical specialists. Private taxis can be used by Deltas, Gamma Pluses, Beta Pluses, and Titanium visitors. They have a yellow license plate. 

Public transportation is only available to Beta Neutral, Minuses, and Gamma Minuses. Their trains, buses, trams, trolleys, and ferries are colored based on their rank, such as teal, indigo, and dark purple. There is always a Gamma Minus operating them. Minuses from Betas and Gammas can ride bikes when they need to. They can not have their own private cars or call in taxis. 

Railway service is divided into six. “Whitehaven Train Line” is for Alphas and Omegas. “Marble Coast Line” is for Delta and Gamma Pluses. “Silver Wall Branch Line” is for Delta Minuses and Beta Pluses. “Hope Meadows Line” is for Beta Neutrals. “Flower Gardens Line” is for Beta Minuses and Gamma Minuses. “Golden Palace Branch Line” is for tourists. 

The bus and train stations are decorated with flowers and murals depicting propaganda art. Bus stops are full of PSAs, propaganda, announcements from the Ministry of Transportation, news, maps, commercials, and information regarding festivals or visits.

Sol Fertilis has two airlines. One is called “Aeris Solaris Airways”, mainly used for Alphas, Omegas, their households, Delta Pluses, and Gamma Pluses. The other is called “Nexum Airlines”, mainly used by Delta Minuses, Beta Pluses, Neutrals, Minuses, and Gamma Minuses. Also, Aeris Solaris Airways can be available to Diamond and Titanium visitors as Nexum Airlines are available to Silver and Gold visitors.

Deltas, Beta Pluses, and Neutrals can have their own cars. 

Omegas are not allowed to take public transport, drive cars, walk on their own, or ride bicycles. They can only go in chauffeured cars, luxury sleeper train cars, and first class sections of Tranquility Airways. Whenever they need to walk, they must walk with their Maid and/or Companion or, if they are unmated, with another unmarried Omega. It’s recommended that they do this five times weekly. 

Specialized

These forms of transportation are used for the transport of Droughters, Omegas, tourists, pups, and doctors with nurses.

The Droughter buses are orange prison buses, meant to take them from the Drought Lands to either the Savage Zoos or the Menegerie. 

The van that are used to transport “rescued” untamed Omegas are known as the “Wine Van”. It usually have Tamers with Omegas from the Drought Lands or had disguised as Gamma Minuses. They are usually drugged inside as the van drives to the Pink Center.

Unmated Omegas would travel in red vans, with the Omega symbol on it.

Tourists would travel in yellow tour buses with a Beta Minus tour guide and a Gamma Minus driver. 

Pups from the Centers would travel in coach buses, each divided by color and rank. 

Ambulances would be brightly colored with blue and purple. They are further divided to emergency, non-emergency, buses, psychiatric, and birthing. The birthing ambulances would be in front of households or birthing places in case there is a need of urgent care for either the parent or the newborn.

[jonathannsmith0706]

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[sukbigones]

Going to nude beaches is a favorite of mine, and I do so every year for at least 1 to 2 months... staying or sitting under an umbrella, feeling the sand under my feet while looking at men's butts, is delicious, but best when my tongue is licking the hole between their cheeks... while visiting a good friend (Andre) in Nice, France, I met many of his friends and their male concubines (many temporary or just for the trip), his many parties during my visit introducing me to a group of international young men, some arriving with their elder daddies and ready for new action including 3- ways and larger group fun... I mostly stayed by the pool overlooking the Mediterranean as those pebbled beaches in the area are not for me, as I did not want pebbles in my ass (just him and his friends if they so desired -which they did a lot)... upon my arrival at the villa with a load already in my tummy (I have a thing for handsome car service chauffeurs), I showered and, naked, had a cocktail by the pool, relaxing after a long flight in, my friend joining the relaxation session with his hard 10-inch French uncut cock (with a perfect mushroom cockhead) depositing his load of cum in me after slowly motioning in and out of my hungry hole in rhythm with the small waves hitting the shore below us, before going to dinner at the Negresco with friends... as I sat during dinner, my friend invited his guests for after dinner drinks at the villa, the older gentleman guest (Giacomo) a tall, lanky peppered hair God with beautiful green eyes one would see in some advertising cologne poster or on a runway in Milan, chiseled features, long artistic hands, the long fingers with manicured nails (one with a family crest ring on it)... the concubine was a tiny Vietnamese boy (about 18 years old), who barely spoke a word, his demure presence quite submissive and subservient but whose tiny, perky butt got our attention when he excused himself to go to the loo... when we got back to the villa, Andre prepared some Port and Sherry for us, we made small talk, the little Vietnamse boy sat on Giacomo's lap, his free hand (apparently) found its way into the boy's perky butt without us realizing it until he moaned as he bent over to set his empty crystal cordial on the glass coffee table (2 of those long fingers had entered the young man's hole)... Andre got up, walked over to the couch where the boy and Giacomo sat, pulled his 10 inch cock out, grabbed the boy's ears and began to face fuck him while I got on my knees and, after pulling Giacomo's cock out (a very thick 10 inch Italian piece), peeled the foreskin to gaze at his beautiful wide mushroomed cockhead and foreskin, all wet with precum, ready for my mouth... I immediately swallowed the cock all the way to its root, my nose deep into his crotch, inhaling his man delicious musky scent, his substantially full bush burying my nose... Andre picked the little Viet boy up, pulled his pants down, his perky butt showing the evening secret - a black butt plug, thightly ensconced - ... while I sucked Giacomo's cock, Andre pulled, with difficulty, the butt plug out along with a nice amount of cum (we later found out 2 of the restaurant waiters fucked him when he went to the bathroom and butt plugged him), double-fingered the hole before plunging his 10-inch thick delicious cock into the boy, beginning an all night of continuous pounding... with Giacomo's member in my mouth, I took my trousers and jockstrap off, exposing my plump cheeks and crevice for his long thick fingers (he had me slob spit on them) to penetrate and explore... before long he bent me over the sofa arm, spread my loosened cheeks and sphincter, his tongue and mouth went to work sucking and tongue-fucking me for a while... while fucking the little Viet boy, Andre fed me his fingers to suck on, Giacomo's large mushroom cockhead entered my hole, stopping just past my sphincter to feel me pulsing it, making him hiss loud, the shaft, iron-hard, slowly impaled me down to the root, fucking me on and off all night and into the morning...

[scotianostra]

Our second Aberdonian of the day is Muriel Thompson who was a decorated Scottish World War I ambulance driver, racing driver and suffragist.

Thompson was born on 10th June 1875 in Aberdeen, Scotland to Agnes Marion Williamson, the second wife of Cornelius Thompson, a shipowner and marine architect. She was the fifth of eight children. Her grandfather George Thompson had been Lord Provost of Aberdeen and an MP for the city.

Thompson was an avid motorist, and from an early age she drove the family car. She and her brothers helped found the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club. On 4 July 1908 she won the first ladies’ motor race held at Brookland, the Ladies’ Bracelet Handicap, she caused quite a stir by beating the wife of the racetrack’s owner with metres to spare.

After the race, Muriel was greeted by cries of “women deserve the vote now!” She agreed, and was hired as a chauffeur by the Women’s Social and Political Union. Driving a green Austin with white wheels and purple stripes – the suffragette colours – she took Emmeline Pankhurst on her 1909 national tour

Her daredevil driving skills proved lifesaving during the First World War. In 1915, she signed up to the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, and us Scots must have a slight snigger at the acronym, FANY.

Three months later, she was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Order of Leopold II by King Albert of Belgium for evacuating wounded soldiers under fire. Alongside her Calais convoy, in 1917, she became one of the first women to drive for the British Army, who had until that point refused FANY’s services.

Thompers, as her colleagues called her, kept meticulous diaries while abroad. They reveal the horrors of war, but also the camaraderie and independence she experienced.

Muriel saved hundreds of lives during the war. In January 1918, she became Commanding Officer of the newly-formed St Omer convoy, and was awarded the Military Medal and the Croix de Guerre for her fearless fight to evacuate the injured during air raids.

Muriel returned to Britain two months before the war ended and resigned from FANY in 1922 – she was one of the bravest and best they had. Muriel died a few months before the Second World War broke out.

Muriel's medals include: Military Medal 1914-18; 1914-15 Star; British War Medal 1914-20; Allied Victory Medal 1914-19 with oak leaf for Mentioned in Dispatches; Order of Leopold II, Belgium, 1914-18, Badge of the 5th Class; Croix de Guerre, France 1914-18.

[alexwhitetravel]

Upgrade Your Travel Beyond Carey Chauffeured Transportation

When it comes to luxury travel, your choice of transportation can define your experience. While Carey Chauffeured Transportation has long been a well-known name, it’s time to explore why Boston Coach Chauffeured Transportation offers a superior, unmatched service for discerning travelers. Whether for corporate needs or leisure trips, Boston Asap Coach sets new standards in luxury, efficiency, and reliability.

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Choosing Boston Coach Transportation over Carey Chauffeured Transportation means investing in:

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Boston Coach Chauffeured Transportation is designed to cater to both corporate executives and leisure travelers. From the bustling streets of Boston to serene countryside escapes, our chauffeurs ensure a smooth, stylish ride.

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[vivekbsworld]

Rent a Car in Kerala: Explore God's Own Country at Your Own Pace

Kerala, often called “God’s Own Country,” is a land of serene backwaters, lush green landscapes, and vibrant culture. Whether you’re visiting Kerala for a family vacation, a business trip, or a romantic getaway, rent a car in Kerala is the best way to explore its beauty and charm with complete freedom and flexibility.

Why Rent a Car in Kerala?

Convenience and Comfort A rented car allows you to travel on your schedule, avoiding the hassle of waiting for public transport or negotiating with local taxi drivers.

Explore Beyond Tourist Spots Kerala is full of hidden gems, from quaint villages to scenic hill stations. Renting a car helps you discover offbeat locations that are often missed on guided tours.

Cost-Effective for Group Travel Traveling with family or friends? A rental car can be a cost-effective solution, offering comfort and ample space for everyone.

Self-Drive or Chauffeur-Driven Choose between the independence of driving yourself or the convenience of hiring a chauffeur to take you around.

Popular Car Hire Services in Kerala

Self-Drive Rentals For those who prefer exploring at their own pace, self-drive options are perfect. Choose from a range of vehicles, including hatchbacks, sedans, and SUVs.

Chauffeur-Driven Rentals Relax and enjoy the journey while an experienced driver takes care of the road. Ideal for tourists unfamiliar with Kerala’s routes.

Luxury Car Rentals For special occasions like weddings or business trips, luxury vehicles such as BMW, Audi, and Mercedes-Benz are available.

Outstation Car Hire Planning a trip to popular destinations like Munnar, Wayanad, or Thekkady? Outstation car rentals provide comfort and flexibility for long-distance travel.

Airport Transfers Reliable pick-up and drop-off services to and from major airports like Cochin International Airport, Trivandrum International Airport, and Calicut International Airport.

Top Places to Visit with a Rental Car in Kerala

Munnar Drive through winding roads to this picturesque hill station, known for its tea gardens and cool climate.

Alleppey (Alappuzha) Experience the serene backwaters and houseboats, a must-visit destination in Kerala.

Thekkady Home to the famous Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary, Thekkady offers a mix of adventure and natural beauty.

Varkala Explore this coastal town with stunning cliffs, beaches, and temples.

Kumarakom A haven for bird watchers and nature lovers, Kumarakom is a peaceful retreat by the backwaters.

Kozhikode Discover the cultural richness and historical landmarks of this vibrant city.

Benefits of Renting a Car in Kerala

Freedom to Explore: Customize your travel plans without being bound by fixed itineraries.

Wide Range of Vehicles: Choose from economy cars, luxury sedans, SUVs, and more based on your needs.

Hassle-Free Travel: Enjoy a stress-free journey with reliable service providers and well-maintained vehicles.

Affordable Pricing: Competitive rates with options for hourly, daily, or weekly rentals.

Local Expertise: Chauffeur-driven rentals come with drivers who know the best routes and local attractions.

Tips for Renting a Car in Kerala

Book in Advance: Secure your car rental early, especially during peak tourist seasons like Onam and Christmas.

Check the Terms: Clarify mileage limits, fuel policies, and insurance coverage to avoid surprises.

Inspect the Vehicle: Ensure the car is in good condition before starting your journey.

Carry Necessary Documents: Keep your driver’s license, rental agreement, and ID proof handy.

Choose Reputed Providers: Opt for well-reviewed car rental companies to ensure reliable service.

Conclusion

Renting a car in Kerala is the perfect way to experience the state’s breathtaking landscapes, vibrant cities, and tranquil backwaters. Whether you’re planning a quick weekend getaway or an extended road trip, a rental car offers unmatched convenience and comfort.

Start your Kerala adventure with the perfect car hire and explore God’s Own Country like never before!

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[merryfortune]

a rarity we are stronger for

Written for the Ladies Bingo on Dreamwidth

Prompt: Feudal Ties/Master and Servant

Title: a rarity we are stronger for

Ship: Gwendolyn/Lilina

Fandom: Fire Emblem The Binding Blade

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,527

Warnings: None

Tags: Past/Referenced Character Death, Fluff and Angst, First Meetings, Crushes, Confessions, Requited Love, Kissing, Pet Names, War

   Their first meeting had been fleeting.

   Gwendolyn had been a fresh faced recruit, hadn’t even been on the job for a day yet and was being shown around the castle and its sprawling grounds by her brother when there was an official orientation in the evening. The assembly was to welcome in the new apprentices and set expectations. Marquess Hector had spoken with a gallant, booming voice that left Gwendoyln quaking, speechless, to this day. He was very good at rallying the troops and Gwendolyn was filled with a naive fervour to do her best.

   A fervour that turned to unadulterated chivalry when she saw Lilina. Gwendolyn’s heart skipped a beat.

   Gosh, what a young lady. She moved delicately and gracefully, her poise was elegant and her manner of speech adorable. She seemed very green and yet it was that inexperience that conveyed so much heart, she immediately charmed all in the knighthood. She was their sweetheart whom they would live to serve and protect.

   Gwendolyn felt that way too.

   Thus, she made a fool of herself straight to Lady Lilina’s face when after the assembly ended and there was mingling. Bors, ever a smothering and embarrassing excuse of a man and older brother, chauffeured Gwendolyn straight to the beginning of the line to introduce her to Lady Lilina. 

   Lady Lilina was paying her dues to nobles and commoners alike in her family’s service, thanking them personally for their hard work. Her smile was optimistic and genuine. 

   Upon seeing such a pure-hearted expression of happiness so close, Gwendolyn felt weak in the knees and the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t know why but if she had to guess, perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree and she was more of a chip off the old block than she would like to admit when it came to being like the men in her family. It seemed a curse for her bloodline to flounder in social situations. From what she could recall of her father, he too had a well-meaning but awkward demeanour that Bors had modelled off. Now her, too, apparently.

   “Hello, it’s rare to see a young woman in the force.” Lady Lilina politely commented. “I’m sure you will do excellent work.”

   “Th-Thank you, La-Lady Lilian.” Gwendolyn replied, stammering through her words only to go red when she realised. Oh no, oh no. Her eyes went wide and she corrected herself hastily, “I mean, Lady Lilina.”

   Lady Lilina laughed graciously, “It’s okay, I’m not offended. Accidents happen.” Lady Lilina assured Gwendolyn.

   Still, Gwendolyn was embarrassed by the faux pas. Her lips twisted and as did her stomach. Bors tapped her on the shoulder, encouraging her wordlessly to at least complete the ritual of introductions with some semblance of salvaging it from its wrinkle.

   “Er, thank you, Lady Lilina. I, Gwendolyn, shall do my best.” Gwendolyn said and she puffed out her chest and tilted her chin out to have pride, she put her hand to her breast balled in a fist with her elbow poked out.

   “I will remember you, Gwendolyn, you are a rarity we will be stronger for, I have no doubt.” Lady Lilina told her.

   Gwendolyn couldn’t believe her ears - either then, at the time, or hours later when she mulled the interaction over in her head, trying to sleep in the apprentice dorms. Or even several years later when much would change, a campaign would erupt and one which would have Lady Lilina at the helm, allied with Prince Roy of Elibe. A cause that Gwendolyn, herself, would take up without hesitation as she loved her country of Ostia… and her lady as well.

   When she learned the news of the hostile takeover had resulted in not only the murder of Marquess Hector but Lady Lilina’s imprisonment, Gwendolyn felt every emotion under the sun. She was devastated. Hector was a good man and she had no doubt in her mind, he would have been killed where he stood, defending his family, his country, and on his values but poor Lady Lilina.

   That frightened Gwendolyn to her core out of pity out of compassion to Lady Lilina…  

   To lose her father, her only parent, in such a ghastly way and then made a prisoner in her own home, Gwendolyn was racked by guilt. She could relate, her parents had been killed, too, during a violent incident and that was what inspired both her and Bors to take up against this senselessness. Still, Gwendolyn should have been there to stop this madness but as a member of Prince Roy’s ranks, there was still time to rescue Lady Lilina.

   So, Gwendolyn fought gallantly and was a part of the team who freed Lady Lilina from her unjust bondage. Afterwards, Gwendolyn would join permanently as a member of this roster in this campaign against Bern. A decision that Gwendolyn made with a clear mind yet became a fraught journey.

   One that brought her closer than she had ever been with La- er, no, just Lilina. They were friends now, after all. Despite Gwendolyn’s reservations.

   During her stint of service thus far at the Ostia Castle, beyond that one little meeting during orientation, Gwendolyn had hardly encountered Lady Lilina. Their schedules were so haphazard and incompatible. Gwendolyn ate in the mess hall, Lady Lilina broke fast in the dining room. Gwendolyn battered training dummies with a spear underneath an open sky and Lady Lilina cast spells in a fireproof room deep within the castle. So, they hardly glimpsed one another but now…

   They were back to back on the frontlines every other day. Lady Lilina relied on her armoured knights to defend her from melee weapons and they relied on her to pick off those who were low in resistance yet carrying weapons that trumped their weapon triangle. It was all very important things that got the heart racing and blood pumping, bonding them like none other.

   In the quiet, in the camps or various settlements they visited, Gwendolyn and Lilina enjoyed each other’s company with Lilina even specifically seeking Gwendolyn out for “girl time”. It was all very out of the blue and out of station, also.

   At first, it made Gwendolyn uncomfortable. There was a wide chasm of difference between them and they had a mandate of respect, distance to keep yet Lilina didn’t care. She saw Gwendolyn beyond the boxes she had put them both inside of. They were noble and commoner, mage and knight, they didn’t have much in common - seemingly - beyond both being young girls well out of depth in war. But they made it work and that’s when Gwendolyn realised.

   During that fateful moment, when she was even younger and greener as a knight, when Lady Lilina and her Father welcomed all the apprentices into their fold, it wasn’t just gravitas that caused Gwendolyn to spiral. It was something else. A crush, a love at first sight.

   She couldn’t be rid of the image of Lilina’s glittering blue eyes and the soft, bouncy waves of her sapphire-hued hair, her charming laughter and her impeccable manners. Lilina was the epitome of femininity and Gwendolyn would never be like that but she didn’t need to be like that because she was content being attracted to it.

   The reason there was no boy to speak of, to gossip about, was because Gwendolyn’s affections were unto Lilina instead of the opposite gender. 

   The revelation put much into perspective for Gwendolyn. Her grit and her determination for her country and her lady was so much more personal than being a knight protecting an ideal and a birthright. She needed to be there for Lilina because she loved her dearly.

   Though where to after that… Gwendolyn did not know. The future was full of many unknowns but when she looked towards, Gwendolyn felt her desires solidify.

   For herself, she wanted to let herself dream big and beyond her humble origins as a country kid. She wanted to lead a squad of armour knights as captain. The mentorship from her brother and from Ogier were priceless to her. The experiences she was having in these battlefields would prove invaluable, she was sure. 

   But in the bigger picture, possibly the biggest picture, Gwendolyn wanted to see Lady Lilina grow into her fullest potential as a leader of a country. She wanted peace and prosperity for Ostia, in whatever form it took.

   Moreover, she wanted to remain by Lilina’s side, as a soldier she could trust. That was her ultimate dream. Maybe even as something more to Lilina as a mere knight. if Gwendolyn could dare to take inspiration from Lilina’s friendly disposition and cross those boundaries that seemed more self-imposed than societally. 

   With so much on the horizon, that future once obscured was quickly coming closer, Gwendolyn knew deep in her heart that she had to let Lilina know her feelings. So, she chose the night after their confrontation with Brunnya to express all which she had been thinking and feeling.

   Perhaps that was unwise but Gwendolyn refused to be daunted by the final battles drawing in. She knew deep inside that she needed this off her chest lest it become a distraction rather than a reserve to draw power from. 

   The night afterwards was calm, all things considered. They hadn’t taken any casualties or severe injuries but the mood was serious. The skies above were clear and moonless, shining with thousands of stars instead. The fields and forests were quiet, not even a cricket chirped out on the outskirts of the war Dragon’s last stronghold, home to a temple and a special chamber for Idunn - according to scout reports, anyway.

   Lilina must have known that something was up with Gwendolyn because just like how she had made the first move to becoming friends, she suggested they enjoy the night together whilst everyone else went to sleep in their tents and cots. How typical of that girl, really. So, they sat together outside their own camp and made light conversation.

   “Ah, I think I saw a bat.” Lilina said and she pointed the direction of where she meant.

   “I’m… not really interested in bats.” Gwendolyn said. Politely pretending she had seen it as she hadn’t, it was pretty patchy out here to make heads or tails of anything in the dark.

   “I see.” Lilina said. “Then what are you interested in? Did you want to chat about something? You’ve seemed fidgety all day, even at dinner.”

   “Have I?” Gwendolyn asked and she laughed at herself. 

   Even now, out of a nervous habit she didn’t even know she had, Gwendolyn twiddled her thumbs. They wrestled each other, her other fingers interlinked as she looked thoughtful out towards the horizon. She took in the trees, the feeling of the wind and the smell of the dirt. It was all so precious and earthy.

   Especially next to her bestest friend in the world.

   Once upon a time, Gwendolyn would have hesitated to even mentally crown Lilina with such a self-indulgent title but it was true. They understood one another in a way that the others in the army were not privy to her. They shared food and secrets, opinions and stories. Most of it was silly but not always, sometimes they spoke of their loss to one another, too. They understood each other with wordless intimacy in that regard.

   Now was not one of those times, so Gwendolyn took a breath.

   “Lady Lilina, where do you see yourself after the war?” Gwendolyn asked.

   “In my rightful place as duchess, of course.” Lilina replied. 

   She didn’t comment on Gwendolyn’s use of the honorific. Good. That meant she had intuitively felt the seriousness that Gwendolyn wished to convey as she opened up more of her heart to her lady.

   “I will lead our people to a new age of peace and wealth, I will become a leader in my own right and leave behind a heartfelt legacy as a wise protector.” Lilina continued, concocting a bright future that Gwendolyn hoped to see come to fruition. 

   “Where do you see me?” Gwendolyn asked, her heart thumped in her chest. Her palms sweated. “By your side or out of sight?”

   “By my side, naturally! Where else?” Lilina indignantly replied.

   Gwendolyn’s lips twitched, “With a husband.” she said.

   She got up and Lilina watched, a little dumbfounded. She sat prim and proper on a stool, knees together, hands in her lap. Gwendolyn came down to her knee in front of Lilina and removed her left hand from her lap. She blinked, taken aback and yet flattered in her expression, her cerulean eyes illuminated by the starlight as Gwendolyn met her gaze with a confident countenance.

   “My lady, I am in love with you. I love you more than our stations should imply, you are more than the symbol of the nation, you are my peer… My friend. I enjoy your company and do not want to leave your side. Will you accept me as your one and only partner? Your guardian?” Gwendolyn asked.

   “O-Oh, my…” Lilina gasped.

   With her right hand, she reared it back to cover her mouth and most of her face. Yet her wide-eyed expression could not be hidden, nor could the blush. Gwendolyn held her steady and held onto hope as Lilina absorbed what she had said, her intentions and her affections.

   Only to smile, to demurely place her hand down and over Gwendolyn’s. She leaned in and kissed Gwendolyn’s knuckles through the arrangement of her own. Her lips were soft and warm, stoking Gwendolyn’s deepest desires and allowing them to swirl with pleasant disbelief.

   “I would be honoured to have you as my most loyal knight, Wendy.” Lilina whispered lovingly.

   Gwendolyn felt her ears reddened and her eyes flicker. Wendy? Did she hear Lilian right?

   Lilina giggled, “Are pet names not your thing?” she asked, unsure. “It’s just, ever since we first met, all those years ago, I wondered, what it would be like to have a female friend I could call by a nickname and it was all because you mistakenly called me Lilian in your nervousness. That’s what made me curious.”

   Gwendolyn felt her heart jump to her throat. Lilina had genuinely meant it, what she said that day, that she would remember her. That wasn’t an empty platitude that happened to be fulfilled as they were thrown together by the twist of fate that was war.

   She smiled, “No, go ahead, c-call me whatever you want, my lady.” Gwendolyn gave her her blessing. 

   “Then call me, Lilina! Or Lili, I suppose.” Lilina pouted.

   “Or,” Gwendolyn readied a suggestion, seduction on the tip of her tongue as she leaned in, “I could call you my love.” She sealed her flirtation with a kiss.

   Lilina melted into it and kissed back. She caressed Gwendolyn with her right hand, she cupped Gwendolyn’s ear and kissed back, her fingers carding through the short strands of Gwendolynn’s hair. The kiss itself was passionate. Fiery. Yet a commitment.

   For their bright and glorious future they wanted to share, they had to seize it. Tomorrow. When they breached the final forces of Bern. 

[rentit4-me]

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