#mr. vessel the third sir-

[channelsoph]

tell me why he posted the most unhinged lyrics ever

source: his ig

[izzabela]

white noise - audio 1

a/n: I just wanted to drop in and say....THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING THE ORIGINAL IDEA SO HARD GUYS!!! special thanks to @junovae , @red5tars , @devil-in-hiding , and @beloveds-embrace for boosting and hyping my idea up. i've been letting this marinate in my head for a long time, and I'm so glad that it's well-received :)

please please PLEASE enjoy guys, i worked really hard to make sure this was a perfect first chapter :>

"What on God's green Earth do you think you're doing with this schedule!?" your boss's words flying to you as fast as the papers he threw off the side his desk.

As the assortment of schedules, checks, files, and folders rain down like snow, you simply look at your boss with a cool smile and dead eyes. You've dealt with things like this before, the same tantrums over and over again with a man who's still growing up at forty-five.

The sun was setting over the New York City skyline, and you've just about had it for the day. It's been thirty minutes since your allotted time to clock out, and this man-child is still holding you up like a baby with his pacifier.

"Sir, you have a meeting with XYZ's CEO stand-in Friday morning," you calmly explain to the toddler as you pick up his mess. "That same day, you have a lunch on Wall Street with Mr. Allen in regard to the upcoming acquisition to one of your sub-companies."

Without breaking a sweat (but most definitely popping a blood vessel), you continue to give reasonable excuses for your choice in scheduling.

"And on that same day, sir, your presence is requested at your brother's residence, to celebrate his third engagement," you finish, giving him a good once-over to see how he's doing. "Speaking of, did you purchase that Rolex I linked you? I had sent you a message via work-phone with the exact link."

He's matting his poorly-worn toupee wig down and coughing profusely.

100-0, you tally your mental game you've been keeping track of.

As you grab the last piece of paper, ironically the one with his Friday schedule, you place the stack back on the center of his desk. There's enough force pressed down that his name plaque jumps (maybe in fear for your wrath too).

"Do you have any other questions sir? Or am I free to go home?" you smile tightly, hands neatly over themselves on your belly.

"Y-you're free to leave," he pulls his necktie nervously, beads of sweat on his forehead and palms as his butter-fingers attempt to fix his tie.

You nod, keeping the tight smile all the way past the threshold of his office, past the snarky bitch of a front-desk woman, and all the way to the elevator.

"Good afternoon, Pumps," the elevator-doorman greets you. "Long day in the office?"

"An understatement, George..." you sigh, rubbing your temples in circles to soothe an incoming headache.

George was probably your only peace in this hellscape of an office: kind demeanor, soft voice, manners, it seems the bar is below the ground with how poorly people behave here in your office.

It's silent on the way down, the light jazz of the elevator music filling the conversation-less space.

Ding

George's gloved hand presses the open door button, and you mosey on out with a little falter in your step.

"Take a rest, Pumps. Lord knows what will happen if you leave that man to his devices," he humors, earning your chuckle as you give him one more wave before walking past the front desk of the main entrance and into the revolving doors.

You spin in the revolving doors for a mere moment before getting spat out back on the street. You'd think that the sunset would help soothe your growing pain, but the streets come to life with blaring neon lights and flickering street lamps.

This is New York City after all.

Slapping your shades on and plugging your earphones in, you begin the trek home. Your houlders slumped and legs dragging like an army man coming home from deployment, you mindlessly listen to your de-stress playlist to try and relax before heading home. You don't think the pain of your head will leave until Siri reads a notification.

A NEW POST FROM GHOST PLUS A LONG MESSAGE, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO READ IT?

Suddenly all your pain felt nonexistent, and you've regained bounce in your step once again. Your favorite voice actor posted, and a long notification means scripted content.

You discovered him, a VA named "Ghost" after scrolling through Reddit for a bit. The nation of subgroups and communities, you found your forever home with him after a ramble fap of his after a stressful day of work a couple of years ago.

Enamored by his husky voice, low timbre of his throat, and his British accent, you learned he had more than just Reddit. You didn't think you'd be addicted, but after exhausting his master-list on Reddit, you decide to follow his links to other places.

Other than his fifty-thousand on Reddit, he has one-hundred thousand on Youtube for his SFWs and one million on TFCo (the audio company he belongs to)- and when you saw his exclusive content? Well, you just had to get your hands on it all. Not to mention he's a successful voice acting career in audio books (you've bought those solely because he voices some of the characters).

And if one thinks this is degenerate, try working for a man who can't think for himself- you'd do anything to decompress and relax.

Which is where you are in the present, picking up your pace to head back to your house so you can relax with the voice that makes you delusional.

The walk felt like a marathon, but you finally made it to the lobby of your apartment. You don't even need to push the door open when they swing inwards for you, accompanied by another familiar voice.

"'Notha long day, Pumps?" a thick Yankee accent rings in your ears. You offer a bright smile, trying to hide the fact your leg muscles have been screaming at you all day.

You take your earphones out. "Nothin' I can't handle, Tony," you describe your day in a mere two words. He only sighs and shakes his head, offering to walk you all the way to the elevator.

Tony looks at you funny, "Can't fool me, lil' miss," he scolds. "Your calves are twitchin', 'ich means you need a good 'n long bath."

You chuckle, "You got it Thomas. Warm bath and sleep."

You hear a faint "atta girl" as you step into the elevator, and his figure disappears behind the silver walls as you go up to another battle.

Ding

The doors part, and you hear the echo of your shoes bounce off the walls as you near your flat door. Lost in the sea of your stuff, your keys probably lost in the void called "your purse," you hear a shuffle and a click of another door opening.

Out walks the guy that moved in right next door. You watch with a glare, eyeing him like someone eyes a stain on their clothes. He wears the same black trousers, black t-shirt topped with a black jacket with his head hooded, and that stupid black face mask with the lower part of a skull.

"Evenin' Simon," you begrudgingly greet. He turns towards you, also eyes you head to toe, and nods.

You do everything in your power to hold yourself back from strangling him.

Simon always struck you as odd: didn't talk to anyone, wore black (and black only), and dressed poorly. Everyone who lived in this side of NYC came from daddy's money, mommy's trust fund, or a mix of both. You took his apprehension in talking as introversion, so you tried to make your presence (and support) known from afar.

In the first month he moved in, you tried to strike up conversation whenever you'd see him leave or enter his room. Just like he did now, he'd offer nothing but a simple glance-over and a sizing, eyeing up and down like a child.

Over the next couple of months, you tried peace offerings of food and snacks. From homemade meals, to little snacks and munchies, you left them at his doorstep for him to grab by himself. You're pretty sure he hated them, usually finding nothing left on your door.

(Unbeknownst to you, Simon ate everything of yours to the bone- no crumbs left).

Since his initial move-in, you've counted that it'll be almost a year since he moved next door to you. God found you his strongest soldier with the way you remained so patient with him and his disdain for others.

One thing you haven't let go, though, was the noise he made late in the night. Whatever he missed in the day (which is usually 100% of noise he never made in the day), he'd make it up tenfold deep into the night. Sometimes you hear him curse loudly, or the annoying creak of his bed slamming into his wall. There were even moments where you've heard him laugh like a villain, before he'd goes back to letting curses wring out like water from a wash rag.

You've really tried to be patient with him, but juggling between a fool of a boss and an ignorant man, you felt it chip away at you like weathered stone.

You make your frustration clear, shuffling the stuff in your bag a bit louder, hoping that he'd get the memo, but he walks past you like a speck of dirt- unnoticed and left behind. Finding your flat key, you groan as you twist, unlock, and make it inside your apartment. You drop everything in the hallway, kick your heels off, and crash on your couch.

Usually you'd take this time to scroll through Instagram, catch up with messages you missed, or simply flip through Netflix to find the perfect show, but all you craved right now is sleep, a shower, and food (maybe a bit of wine too).

"Get to it, Pumps," you scold yourself, pushing yourself off the plush cushions. "For George and Tony..."

Seems your doorman and elevator-man were right, a hot shower does wonders. Though you came out of the shower a bit dazed, at least you were relaxed now. Your stomach wasn't, though, as it grumbled angrily.

"Yeah yeah, I heard ya," you mumbled, opening up your fridge to find it empty and sad (was that a fly leaving?). You curse and make a mental note for groceries tomorrow after work.

"Ramen will do just fine," you answer yourself, walking to the pantry to grab an instant pack to cook.

It's nice and quiet as you cook your noodles, the faint sounds of the city traffic sounding more like a lullaby than record scratch. You look over to your side as you stir your pot, the floor-to-ceiling windows allowing full view of the Empire State building, park, and the other buildings in the area.

Taking the pot off the stove, you carefully place it over a pot holder and grab a bowl. Pouring the soup and noodles in, you multitask and check anymore notifications you missed through the day, and the one from a couple of hours ago is first in line. The TFCo notification banner is calling your name, and you press it immediately to see what's new with your man, "Ghost."

The notification read an announcement for a new exclusive drop, a werewolf!shifter! in rut taking his pretty bunny!shifter in heat, and the tags filled your belly with butterflies: primal play, chase, CNC, shifters, and a mean!ghost tag- the list is filled with dirty tropes that make your core tighten and panties damp.

You're tempted to drop everything and fall victim to your desires, but ignoring your stomach felt like a bad omen in the making (and another earful from Tony would not be good). Besides, it was on your phone- you can wait.

Enjoying the loaded sodium soup of your ramen, you do some more doom scrolling on some other accounts and socials of VAs you follow. You occasionally listen to Soap Dish, a Scot with a fiery temper and even hotter audios, you listen to him when you want something goofy or silly. Occasionally though, he'll drop a great CNC, mean audio that really gets you heated.

Then there's Gazzandgoo (Gaz for short), another British VA with great all-around content. Ranging from mean BDSM audios to him whimpering and subbing, you enjoy Gaz's flexibility and range with his voice. A guilty pleasure of yours is his whimpering and sub audios (high powered job needs equal amounts of destress right?).

Slurping the last of your soup down, you didn't realize the time left you as your phone's clock read "eleven thirty" (was the doom-scroll that bad this time around?). Doesn't matter since it's officially "you time"- where only you, your search history, and the government knows what you're doing tonight.

After a quick rinse and toss of your bowl and utensils in your dishwasher, you dig for your headphones from your bag so you can indulge. Scooping it out, along with some papers, hair pins, and business cards, you leave the mess for tomorrow as you enter your room. Pictures of your friends, the few family you had in contact, diploma, and posters judge you as you get into bed and in a comfortable position.

Leaning back, headphones in, you press the notification of the TFCo app and watch your phone light up with the direct audio link of Ghost and his latest content.

There's lots of sound effects as the audio plays, the script being very in depth. You hear the rustling of leaves and grass, the billowing breeze, and the faintest noise of pebbles rolling over each other. The image of a forest is painted in your mind, and the painting gains a new addition with the sound of ragged breathing.

"Ah.... fuck..." the recording of Ghost's voice is in the background as you hear his groans and moans grow closer.

You close your eyes and let yourself go in the audio, imagining Ghost's werewolf character pouncing on top of you.

"'N what's this pretty bunny doin' here?" he muses in your ears. "Wandered on the wrong side of the forest, huh? Stupid fucking bun..."

Your legs twist and close, the friction of your panty fabric and your legs pressing together getting you worked up. Imagining what Ghost looks like, what he feels like, is sending you into overdrive as he continues to speak in your headphones.

"You look fucking delicious," he groans, and you shiver as you hear the sound effects of his hands running across a toy he uses for a body. "So soft, so fucking perfect. Gonna be a meal for me?"

You dumbly reply to the emptiness of your room, and your cheeks blush as Ghost groans again.

"You sound so cute begging for your life. How 'bout a deal?" he eggs you on, and you nod once again.

"If you can outrun me and make it out the forest, you get your life," he offers the first half of his wager.

He chuckles, "The other part? That's easy, isn't it bun?" you hear him brush over his mic to get real close. "If you can't, you'll be my meal."

"On the count of three. One, two," your chest is rising and falling quickly, the anticipation of what he'll do pushing you to the edge. "Go."

The sound effects of your character running through the grass, hopping and sprinting in order to stay alive. You cave and shove your hands down under the waistband of your panties, fingers flicking over your sensitive bud as you can hear Ghost grow closer and closer.

You hear the sounds of Ghost wrestling, noises of foliage and nature bending and breaking under you. The audio paints the picture of you pinned under Ghost, and his maniacal laughter rolls through your ears thanks to binaural headphone settings.

"Pathetic," he spits out at your futile escape. "Were you even trying?"

It sounds like Ghost was sniffing you, his inhalations close to the mic as he comments on your scent. You can also hear the sfx of him reaching down and to your aching pussy.

"Oh... maybe you weren't trying bunny," he teases, the audio effects of pussy squelching invading your ears. "Maybe you wanted this- wanted to get lost, caught, and eaten alive by the big bad wolf..."

You whimper, circles over your little clit growing faster and needier as his voice rings through your mind. "Beg me for your life- 'please don't eat me, Mr. Wolf'- beg me nice 'n proper..."

The squelching grows more obscene, and you can't tell if that's your own cunt or the toy he's using in the audio. It doesn't matter though, as the sounds of wet pussy stop, and you hear a shift in weight and position.

"I take it back- no need to beg when your cunt is drenched, bun," he teases, and you're so sure his cock in tapping the entrance of the toy that represents you.

"What? Scared? 'Fraid my cock's gonna hurt?" he asks, and you respond with a sad keen (ironic, since your fingers are working overtime for you to reach your peak).

Suddenly, a deep grumble and "oh fuck" is heard, and you realize Ghost is stuffing you full in the audio. You moan a little louder, slipping a single finger in, curling it to make sure it hits your spot just right.

Perverted sounds of Ghost's cock bullying the toy he uses to represent his listeners fill your ears, and the sounds of said toy smashing into his hips add sprinkles of erotica as you imagine yourself getting stuffed full of him. Lost in your own pleasure, you squeeze your eyes tight as you focus on reaching your finish.

You must've wandered a little too far in your imagination as you didn't feel your earbuds fall of your ears. The audio is no longer heard for you, but you can't tell when you're riding off of your imagination (and maybe the faint audio that's coming from the earbuds, since they're on full blast).

You're drawn out of your lust as the earbuds fall like marbles on your hardwood floors. Immediately, your hand flies away from your aching sex, and you see the buds lay pitifully on the floor. You groan, borderline sulking over the fact something so simple drew you away from your peak.

As you reach for your tech, your ears catch on to another noise. It's coming past your bedroom walls, and it sounds a lot like the audio you're listening to right now.

"Such a good girl f'r me..." the voice groans, a strangled moan escaping the lips of your neighbor and entering your ears.

"He sounds so familiar...." you whisper to yourself, and the next line he grunts out pieces all of the issues you've had with him together.

"You wanted this, didn'tcha? Takin' all 'f me like a dumb slag, but'cha wanted this didn'tcha?"

"You like this, don't ya?" he annunciates, semi-muffled noises of a pocket-pussy getting stretched out like actual cunt floating into your ears.

Every ounce of arousal has left your body as your braincells fire and connect the dots, and you swear you can hear the sounds of bells echoing in your brain.

"Ghost" is Simon, and Simon is "Ghost."

And "Ghost" is your neighbor.

ding ding ding

[digitalbath1988]

Save A Horse, Ride Soldier Boy/Chapter 3

TW: Dubious Consent, Blackmail, Manipulation, Period Typical Sexism, Humiliation, Dom Soldier Boy/F Original Character

Other chapters will be linked in comments!

April 1954

Soldier Boy had shown up at the office again a few weeks later. He seemed more- determined this time.

“When are you going to let me take you out?”

Esther laughed, thankful that everyone else had left the conference room. “I guess the time for that was a while ago. Before-“

“It’s not too late.” His smile made her want to forget how they’d met. The only question that kept her mind from melting away like an M&M was why.

“You really hurt me.”

Esther was surprised to see his eyes widen in surprise at that comment. Then narrow in derision. “I was just giving you what you secretly wanted, I saw the way you looked at me..”

She wanted to stomp her foot, but she kept a cool head. Escalating tensions with him seemed unwise. Especially given what he’d already done to her.

“I was content to let it be a fantasy. You forced me to bring it to life. Now.. I don’t even want..” anyone else, but she didn’t say that part. Dating seemed pointless after being married to the love of her life, his death, and now having Solider Boy fuck her, against her will, in the way she’d always secretly desired. She felt destroyed and like nothing else could ever seem less than absolutely mundane.

She pursed her lips and stopped talking. He had to stop her at the door.

“Give me a second chance.”

—-

She hadn’t meant to give him another chance, but before she knew it, she’d left the kids with her neighbor and was on his arm, dancing at some Vought gala she’d never normally be invited to.

It felt magical, the more she spun the stranger she felt, and he dipped her and kissed her. Was it the alcohol or him? She didn’t know. Everything seemed so perfect now in the bright lights, like he was the only one in focus.

“Fuck, Esther,” he said as he tore off the nice dress she’d bought for the occasion, something she’d justified only because she’d keep the nice piece forever. He didn’t even seem to realize what he’d done, and he ripped her strapless bustier off too, tossing it next to the remains of the dress. She tried not to focus on that. “You’re not running around with other guys, right?”

“No, sir.” Hypocrite.

The rest of her clothes came next. “You’re all mine tonight.”

“I’ve only got a babysitter til ten.”

“Damn. Ok, you’re all mine for thirty minutes.”

She let things take their course, she let him lead her over to the bed and make love to her. Could it be called making love if you’re not in love? He certainly acted like he cared about her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear like he wasn’t trying to fuck all sense out of her body. She was merely a vessel for his pleasure and feelings, and worst of all? She enjoyed it. Enjoyed every toe curling stroke, the way he looked at her when he was inside, how he kissed her as if he was her lover. How he brutally and tenderly held her all at once.

There was more than one bouquet this time. The secretary looked vaguely horrified when she came to collect them. Giving Esther an up and down look that made her feel all too visible.

“Mrs. Smith,” commented her manager with a gaping mouth as she placed the red roses in the corner of the room, before resuming typing as if nothing had happened.

The card said “three bouquets for a third chance? See you next month.”

May 1954

“Sir, respectfully, I’m not doing it.”

The man from HR looked at Esther, cigarette still burning in his hand. He crumpled it into the ashtray. Used and insignificant.

Just like how she felt.

“It’s Mrs. Smith, right?” He held the Mrs. out with a bit of a sneer, as if taunting her with some sort of imagined slight towards her virtue. Esther closed her eyes and counted to ten backwards.

“I’m a good woman.”

The creep put his hand on her shoulder as he walked from the other side of the desk. “Of course you are Mrs. Smith. However, I’m afraid you misunderstand this situation.”

A photo was procured of her with Soldier Boy against the glass wall of the conference room. “Would be a shame if this was distributed to your church. I mean, synagogue.” He clucked.

Esther’s blood ran cold. But she pulled herself together. “I can get another job.”

The man chuckled lightly. “Not after this gets around, I mean, unless you are considering the oldest profession in the world. Which at that point, why pretend you’re too good to be his secretary?”

Once she’d realized she was caught in Vought’s trap, she was surprised by the condolences offered. Her salary was increased, her apartment rent would be paid by Vought while she was traveling, and her kids would be looked after by a nanny. It pained her to leave them for so long, but she had no choice. They couldn’t afford a move elsewhere.

Tearful goodbyes were exchanged with her children, promises to write and call all the time, and of course her Mother In Law was so proud of her for securing such a good promotion. It hurt so much to know how disappointed she’d be if she knew. Esther set off early, trying to get that nagging feeling and their sad faces out of her mind.

Why does Vought want me to do this? Nagged in the back of her mind as she set up at her destination, some nothing town where they were filming a movie about Soldier Boy. The Vought HR representative hadn’t been forthcoming.

She knocked at his trailer. He was supposed to be on set now, but she didn’t feel quite right about barging in.

After a minute, she opened the door. The reason for why Vought had asked her to be his personal secretary was immediately obvious. The floor had a few empty prescription pill bottles and liquor bottles littering it. Also, a pair of purple satin panties that could have only come off a stripper or sex worker. Esther frowned as she started putting the trailer to rights.

Still, anyone could do this. Why me?

The dirty laundry piled up on the couch MOVED. Esther stood perfectly still. Soldier Boy sat up and grinned widely at her. His voice was heavily slurred.

Also, he was only wearing some sort of… exotic robe.

“Esther- I’m so glad you came, sweetheart.” He stood up, and she had no idea how he was even capable considering his state.

“You’re supposed to be on set.”

“And you’re not supposed to be here yet.” He pulled her forward and kissed her lips. That smell was boozy but still pleasant, she couldn’t help but smile to herself as she leaned against his strong chest. NO. You shouldn’t be feeling this way!

“Let’s get you cleaned up and over to set..”

“No.” He had the nerve to pour himself another drink, and on second thought poured her one too. “You need to loosen up, missy.”

“Don’t they have schedules, budgets..” Esther had seen some notes from these things and been shocked by the amount it cost per day to make a movie. It disgusted her a bit to see someone be so cavalier about wasting resources. Not when she had a family to feed in a tenement in the slums.

“Trust me, they’ll just shoot something else. Background or something. They’re fine. I just didn’t feel like it today.”

Well, not like I can force you to go. She wondered how much Vought expected her to do with this, should she nag and yell at him? They weren’t close enough for that. She settled for a bit of a judgemental look.

He handed her the drink with an expectant look in return.

Esther choked it down. Her body recoiled as her lips touched the alcohol and she spit a bit on reflex. It was practically just hard liquor with a tiny bit of some sort of mixer.

Her face turned crimson. “Sorry, that’s just really strong.”

“I’ll keep it in mind that you’re a lightweight. See that less and less in women these days. Keep drinking that.” He bodily picked her up and placed her on the counter. Esther had to repress a not very ladylike screech of shock.

“Sorry, pretty limited in terms of seating area in here at the moment.” She was short enough that her legs dangled from the counter.

If it was even possible, he was getting even more drunk, but he seemed to have enough of a tolerance not to throw up or feel very ill. “I know you don’t want to be here. But it means so much to me that you came.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the same time she desperately hoped it was true. God, it had been a long time since someone had cared about her in that way. God, he was beautiful. But she remembered all the things he’d done to her when they’d met, threats and blackmail and sex that she’d very reluctantly agreed to, and she wanted to cry.

He pressed in closer to her, cradling her jaw in his hand. “They think I’m a train wreck. That you’ll help clean me up and get me out to sets on time. Less uh, hungover.” He smirked at her quietly. “I don’t know if anyone can do that.”

He doesn’t even think about everything I’ve sacrificed to get here. How I probably don’t even want to. He just thinks about himself. Esther held in that sigh and pressed herself against his hand, looking up. Use him. Use him to get what you need. That’s how you win. She put her arms around his shoulders. “Why not send- anyone else? Your folks? A girlfriend?”

“Nah, family and I had a falling out. Dad’s a real piece of work. Girlfriends- I don’t think you could call any of the girls I’ve been with ‘girlfriends’. One night friends.”

Her throat tightened, imagining how lonely his life must be despite the swarms of ardent admirers. No family or friends. No wonder he acted out and drank too much. No. He’s using this to manipulate you. Don’t let him. In fact, manipulate him before he can something else over on you.

“I will do my best. Sir.” She brought him closer, eased by his current state of intoxication, their hips now almost touching. Her bare hand wrapped inside of his robe, gripping vascular thigh. He almost faltered.

“I don’t know why they sent you either- I’m never going to show up to set with you looking this good.” He pushed her skirt up and pulled her panties to the side, thumb touching her expertly as he watched her face for a reaction. She wanted to stay, she wanted to run to the car and drive back home. She wanted his lips on her cunt more than anything.

Soldier Boy obliged, boozy warm tongue feeling like it might melt her. He held her legs firmly to the table, eliminating any possibility of escape, and made out with her pussy like it was a mouth. She shook the table despite herself as he licked her clit, humping his beautiful face against her. Under the influence of the drink she’d managed to finish, Esther closed her eyes and allowed pure bliss to rule, driving her to a peak that resulted in an embarrassing conclusion. He didn’t seem very surprised. On the contrary. He seemed almost smug, and like he’d expected this result.

He righted her outfit by smoothing her panties back over her mound with the flat of his hand. She wanted more than that. She put her hands under the robe again, now touching his ass and brushing lightly against a cock that didn’t seem to have any issues with whiskey dick.

He panted slightly as she wetted her palm and jerked him off gently, looking in his pretty green eyes with every stroke. “Take me to bed.”

They made up for time and distance with their intimacy now, under the makeshift covers, scented with hard liquor seeping through their pores.

—

[brown-little-robin]

assorted thoughts so far on Stardust Crusaders arc:

every episode has been more and more like an evil Mrs. Frizzle episode. I unironically love how they explain everything before they do it. it's so silly. they went inside Joseph Joestar's brain. through his blood vessels. I swear there's a Mrs. Frizzle book about that, except without the evil brain lobster trying to kill everyone.

I am. FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. I'm SHAKING. over Jotaro. he fascinates me. HE THOUGHT THE MANIFESTATION OF HIS SOUL WAS AN EVIL SPIRIT. POSSESSING HIM. I'm still not over that. Jotaro Kujo is fundamentally angry. he's a pressure cooker. he's a time bomb. he doesn't pull his punches. Jotaro contains himself, though—he doesn't want to hurt people. he put himself away in a jail cell when Star Platinum first manifested. he risked his life un-brainwashing a guy who tried to assassinate him and refused to say why. he loves his mother even though he abuses her kindness. he's angry and he's kind and he's a little jerk. grabs him and shakes him. I was like him at 17.

LIKE— !!!!!! SIR

ok this got long. putting in a readmore for everyone who doesn't feel like reading My Random JJBA Diary

this is a series that is fine with showing gore, but doesn't have the main characters cause it.... usually. I am going to be disappointed if the story never follows up on the implications that Jotaro can do really ugly things. Although The Lovers did feature him breaking Steely Dan's arm and leg, it was kind of... strangely sanitized-feeling. I didn't even realize the guy was that injured until he Said So. I KNOW this is shounen and therefore Will show the heroes as heroic and the villains as villainous without much gray, and wounds are just magically going to be pushed through, but JJBA is willing to push the limits of gore to show the ugliness of the villains' actions, and it's setting up some beautiful and interesting things with the moral complexity of the heroes; why sanitize their actions?

Jotaro mirrors back the behavior he sees around him. He seems slightly unstable, morally speaking. He recognizes evil, and he pays it back. He listens silently to the people attacking him, he takes punches, and then he lashes out in return and enjoys it. He says people think I'm a delinquent; he doesn't claim to be a delinquent, he just names how people label him. He's half Caucasian and huge and muscled and girls are constantly hanging off him; he's been labeled with a complex and aggressive masculinity for years. And he takes labels. He internalizes them.

Polnareff and Joseph are the clowns of this narrative. The poor guys. "Clown" is not a great position to be in. HOWEVER the position of clown comes with free Easy Bounce-Back From Every Humiliation. if Jotaro is a Batman figure, paying back what he's given, Polnareff and Joseph are more like Robin.

Relatedly, I have decided that the humor of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure is fundamentally similar to slapstick clown humor. To quote my own paper on clowns:

Take Dio's refrain of "mudamudamudamudaMUDAMUDAMUDA!!" (futile futile futile futile futile!!). And Star Platinum's battle cry, "ora ora ora ORAORAORAORA" that blurs into a macho shout. It's exactly like clown humor: it's a Bit that starts, you recognize that this is silly by like the third time Dio says "muda", and then it just. keeps. going. and at some point your brain goes "this cannot be real. stop. stop" but it keeps going, and at this point you are forced to let your rational thinking die and just accept that this is happening. it's a little ego death; you have to either laugh or lose your mind. That's JoJo's Bizarre Adventure humor in a nutshell. It's silly, but not just silly; it stretches itself to the point of absurdity. It grabs you and DEMANDS that you let this happen to you.

Okay and last thing: I'm loving Kakyoin's slow breakdown. he's introduced as an assassin, then it's revealed he's being mind-controlled, and then he joins the party, and then he's thrown under suspicion, and then cleared, and now he's convinced he might be losing his mind and the others are beginning to worry that he's losing it too. and, again, Kakyoin was mind controlled for quite some time. this has got to be hitting him right where it hurts.

^ the posture of a man who doesn't know if he's insane 🥰 darken your clothes and strike a violent pose or whatever MCR said :)

[dykeredhood]

This is massaging my brain

Mr. Bowles, engage the corvette to larboard.

Engage? Sir, we can't take on three French corvettes.

We can give the Indy an even chance. We've a third of her crew aboard this vessel. If any of the Frenchmen get close enough to board her, she's finished.

Aye, aye, sir.

Why don't they fire at us, sir?

It may have escaped your notice, Mr. Bowles, but we are still flying French colours.

Shall I have them run down, sir?

If you want me to shoot you where you stand, by all means.

Sir, it goes against all articles of war.

When we have leisure, you must show me where it is written and I will gladly concede the point.

Until that time, please confine yourself to following my orders

[thecunnydiaries]

August 1841 1st Sunday

Fine: Mustered: Divine Service: some very fine Rockets were fired off at the Observatory at Night.

Campbell's notes:

Ross, Voyage, II. pp. 44–5. ‘I was very anxious to obtain a good comparison of our chronometers with the time of the observatory at Paramatta, whose longitude had been so well determined by Sir Thomas Brisbane, when he first established the observatory at his own expense; and also to make arrangements for measuring the difference of meridians between it and Garden Island, by means of rockets, and thereby secure an accurate determination of the longitude of the latter place, for the convenience of merchant vessels sailing from the port.’ Ibid. p. 46. ‘The following evening being favourable for our projected experiments, Mr Smith was despatched to an intermediate station, called Bedlam, to set-off some rockets, as we considered it probable that we should see them more distinctly than if sent up at either of the extreme stations. The instant of each rocket's explosion was noted at both places, and, after several nights' observations, the results were brought to comparison, and found to differ only in tenths of a second; twenty-five were judged sufficient for the accurate determination. The mean difference of time obtained amounted to 55s.85, and taking the longitude of the observatory at Paramatta at 10h4m6s.25, as given in the Third Part of the Philosophical Transactions for 1829, p. 16-29., would give for the longitude of the observation at Garden Island 151° 15'31".5 E.; and again applying the meridian distance between this place and the Ross Bank observatory, as given by the means of our chronometers, we find the longitude of the latter place from these data to be 147° 23' 40".7 E.’

[harveywritings92]

Soulmate AU: Shay Cormack X Reader

Au: your Soulmate gets a scar, you get a tattoo in the exact same place it disappears once your soulmate kisses it , Reader's tattoos resemble ivy vines with a small black flower with red tips blossoming on the ends.

 Y/n frowned as she heard giggling coming from behind her back, Her older sisters were laughing at her again or to be more specific her soulmate's mark, ever since it showed up they've been more rotten than usual, possibly out of all them she wants to meet her soulmate instead marrying the first rich sod that blinked at them.

Their parents obviously shared Y/n's churning as both were soulmates and always encouraged their daughters to seek out their soulmates. however, when the scars started showing on the twins there was no rejoice in their eyes; just disgust and annoyance. when they did meet their soulmates they laughed in their faces, declaring fate be damned they would never be with "the help" or some low waged dock worker!

Sara the oldest twin who soulmate was a stable boy in Lexington, She married the prominent banker's son and lives in New York. Who's unbeknownst to Sara cheating on her with his actual soulmate who is a man, Y/n was the one who caught him, but won't say anything because she knows what will happen to those poor boys should anyone find out. 

while Lana the younger of the two whose soulmate was a quartermaster and large shipping vessel, is a mistress of a disgusting plantain owner who was a two decades older her who claims he's going to leave his wife for her. (good luck with that!)  

They mock and chastised Y/n for chasing a pipe dream and rave about how ugly and poor her soulmate must be and he's probably a smelly drunkard for getting such an ugly marks on the y/ht woman's body, Y/n just kept a straight face while they and their gaggle of high-class hens peck and squawk at her supposed misfortune.

As their mother & father chided twins for picking on their sister, Y/n sighed and decided she needed a break from this posh gig and being mocked. The y/ht decided to take a walk, after changing out of her dress and into a shirt, jacket and trousers and wandered out into the streets of New York enjoying the silence, when a black blur suddenly slammed into her knocking the y/hc woman to the ground bringing whoever it was down with her. 

The y/nat woman wince and looked up to see what hit her y/ec met brown Y/n was suddenly forcibly hoisted up to her feet a man and dragged away as distant sound of several angry footsteps came barreling in their direction, the stranger dragged her into ally and covered her mouth "Don't make sound do as I say..." a hoarse voice hissed in her ear as a flask suddenly found it's way in her field of vision, the y/ht swallowed then awkwardly nodded. 

When the guards turned the corner they were met by two men one tall and y/ht awkwardly walking down the alley reeking of alcohol and the barely conscious one was just barely holding on to a flask, [Shay had tossed his jacket into a hay pile] "Oy you two," the y/nat 'man' turned to look at them while struggling to keep 'his' friend steady. "Eh, w-whaz ya wunt?" the annoyed soldier grimaced at their hoarse scratchy voice and assumed they were a young lad. "Did you see a man run by, wore a black hood?" Y/n stared blankly at the group leader trying to register what he had said then slurred out "Him rynning vy n' knuck meh n' frewns ohver.." the men looked very confused. "What?" another soldier answered.

" I believe he said 'he ran on by and knocked him and his friend over' sir." 

"oh.. did you see where he went?"

" waz halpin hin upf bot i tink i zaw 'im goh dat wah [points an unsteady finger towards the docks.]'

"Hmmm?!"

"He thinks he went that way {points in the same direction Y/n pointed in]"

"Thank you, Oh and lad? [Y/n and Shay tense.] take it easy with the ales..."

The y/ht woman awkwardly nodded as Soldiers rushed down the alleys towards the docks and Y/n sighed in relief when they finally left them alone, the man next to her stood up to his full height nearly dwarfing you in comparison; you were shocked that you were able hold him up giving the bulk on him,

{taller reader] you sighed annoyed seeing your were almost the same height if this man, if he knew you were female he'd surely be intimidated by that, almost all the men you've met felt threatened by your height... they avoided you like the plague. 

You sighed ready leave when your new "friend" suddenly moved your h/c bangs out of your face staring intently at your tattoos... your face felt hot when you realized he had the scars to match them, after a few seconds of silence the man broke the silence with a smile.

"I have to say, this was definitely not how I thought to meet you...Lass." You starred at him shocked that he guessed your gender, he chuckled before awkwardly pointing out that your neck tie had come lose and could you didn't have an Adam's apple. 

So needles to say the walk back to your home was a lively one Shay told you he was bounty hunter who worked for a private company, he seemed pretty interesting. you wanted to ask about this company? but were abruptly interrupted by the snobby laughter of your sisters and their friends having their little party. 

You grimaced debating if you should bring him inside however your Mother saw you through the window and waved.  You sighed annoyed walking up the porch and towards the firing squad...

third POV

The snobby whispers and giggling from the girls soon died down when Y/n walked in with a very handsome and well dressed man, the tall/petit woman grimaced seeing her sisters eyeing Shay like hungry bobcats, as her mother & Father stood up and walked over curiously eyeing the man next to their youngest daughter warily. "Y/n dear would you introduce us?" the older woman press hope was clear in her voice as Shay stood up a bit straighter.

"Shay Patrick Cormack ma'am, I'm uh...*ahem* Miss Y/n's soulmate." immediately Y/n's sister's expressions shifted into annoyance and jealousy they processed Shay's word's "I would like to know if I have your blessing.? I wish the court Y/n." He asked as Y/n's father eyed him reluctantly as his older daughter's whispered and boasted about this whole thing being a ruse, Y/n paying mister Cormack, but the second Mr. L/n noted the matching scars he knew this was real.

"Very well Mr. Cormac you may court my youngest, But be warned should you hurt her..." Shay assured him that he would never harm his fated one, before kissing Y/n on her cheeks making her tattoos disappear, causing the women in attendance to ooh and aww while her sisters glared venomously at her...  Of course Y/n could care less about what those harpies thought, from then on out she knew she'd be happy for as long as she was with Shay.

[countessofbiscuit]

The Captain & the Resident’s Daughter: Secret

. . . . . . . . 

Rexsoka Week - Wednesday - Secret

“Let me see your face.”

. . . . . . . . 

Part the First

Part the Second

Part the Third

Part the Fourth

(This is Part the Fifth)

Part the Sixth

Part the Seventh

In which the author is very late and attempts to atone with a kiss.

N.B. this story is two-thousand words in length and contains period-typical (1800) attitudes and language.

. . . . . . . . 

Dona Olga’s largely Portuguese blood beneath her lovely portly frame did not answer to the swell of the sea — nor did her mind, stomach, or complexion. Despite the surgeon’s professional opinion that she did not have one foot in the locker, she remained in a frightful way — and, he intimated in confidence to Miss Tanough, in the family way as well; it brought Ahsoka to wonder, if the woman should perish before they reached Rodrigues, whether she would be obliged to run the final stitch through her nose as Mr Bonterry had hinted, and whether her elementary needlework would answer to the solemnity such an occasion would require.

With such morose thoughts had Ahsoka been oft lying in her cot, eternally closeted round by mirth, with the gunroom below, the great cabin above, and the coaches of General Skywalker and Captain Rex abutting her quarters; for the Gloriana’s timbers and cabin-bulkheads were not so solidy oaken as to insulate her from the merrymaking of military gentlemen. To be sure, the officers (Skywalker lately included) had been all politeness, encouraging her to remain after the last remove; to delight them by playing upon Lieutenant Waxer’s Spanish guitar; or — when Colonel Kesting was of the party — to read their horoscopes. But Ahsoka had a dread of making herself unpopular by delaying their port and knew well when to excuse herself.

This state of affairs would not have been intolerable but for the impossibility of walking upon deck for the thick rains. A week had Ahsoka been staring out the stern windows, privately praying for any sign of Admiral Trénche that she might bear witness to a great thumping by Commodore Ferris (and perhaps even see action herself); she could not even fish from the stern chasers, so great was the swell that the gunports must remain closed; and there were only so many turns about the great cabin one could take before the exercise produced a dizzying sickness of its own.

One evening, unable to bear the confinement a moment longer, eager for the total ablution of body and mind offered by a monsoon storm, hardly carrying if she lived or died if she might go ten minutes without hearing Dona Olga groan, Ahsoka gathered herself in a twill pelisse and opened the cabin’s starboard door.

In the dim passage, she found another door also open: that of Captain Rex’s coach, having apparently spurned its latch and swung free in a loll. Warm lantern light spoke to its being occupied, though she had not heard the Captain’s boots beyond her door, nor his movement behind the bulkhead.

With even greater surprise did Ahsoka immediately discover Captain Rex himself within, completely bared to the waist as he engaged in his toilette, washing himself methodically with the luxury of fresh water — and, with his broad back to the door, full oblivious to his exposure.

What sensations coursed through her agitated frame to espy him thus!

To say Miss Tanough was fond of the Captain would be to understate the matter. From the first moment of their acquaintance, she had esteemed him greater than any of General Kenobey’s society. He had been all selfless kindness — had stood up with her without diffidence and then with evident pleasure; had comforted her by exposing his own fears and troubles; had shielded her from the worst of the General’s initial churlishness; had even brokered the agreement which saw Commodore Ferris share the history of his scar for her account of the tiger’s demise.

And there were other considerations which ensured her high opinion — namely, the sum of his attractive features, in which there was no deficiency; and how the whole was crowned by his kingly bearing, at once commanding yet eager to oblige.

Indeed, in that moment, Rex’s physical recommendations perhaps weighed disproportionately in her regard; for the sight of his warm flesh and well-formed back was not only pleasing to behold, but she had also a moment to admire his expansive tattoo; the dampened fabric of his thin shirt after the excitement with the shark had first betrayed its presence, if not its particulars, and Ahsoka had been wild to see it ever since.

It full engulfed his right shoulder, formed by generous, swirling spirals of alternating bare and darkly pigmented skin; it was extremely detailed without any discordant parts, but had the appearance of being somewhat stretched — of having once been more mathematically correct, though nothing about it could be called geometrical. The design would have been alien to Ahsoka but for illustrations in her father’s books, for he was an avid collector of narratives of sea exploration and histories of foreign peoples; she recognized it to be Pacific in origin, and it looked neither fresh, nor perfect, nor degraded by exposure — a matured stamp of origin preserved under Rex’s woolen Company coat, known perhaps only to a few; certainly, he was not in the habit of removing his shirt, even when he did not have Miss Tanough’s sensibilities to consider.

Since first confirming her suspicion that he was not wholly English, Rex had touched but sparingly on his personal history. But so open and established was their acquaintance, any long omission of his parentage from their conversation would have created more romantic conjecture than the plain truth could merit: his father had been carried as a boy from his native New Zealand on an English whaling vessel; of his mother, Rex knew even less — which is to say, he never knew her at all.

While Ahsoka reconsidered the Captain’s ambivalence at the prospect of reuniting with his father — who might yet be living or long since dead, for Rex had never a line from him in ten years — the impropriety of her present occupation forced itself upon her mind suddenly, as Rex’s cloth splashed into the washbasin and he reached for his towel.  

She could not tarry here — but neither did she wish to return to her melancholy cabin or socialize with any soul but him.

If Ahsoka walked on, the sentry would surely acknowledge her, or question her movements in a voice that might be overheard. Might Rex himself be drawn out, curious about her reasons for going about in a squall? These motivations would be difficult for Ahsoka to recall; for the need to be anywhere else had given way to a strong desire to remain only here, in this spot, where an encounter of the most absurd but interesting nature might occur. Might she cough? Would a ‘good evening’ be too impertinent? How conscious of self was he, truly, that he might resent her having seen him intimately?

Ahsoka might also have asked herself why the prospect of Rex’s bare chest set her heart beating so, when she had never before been missish about the male form — indeed, she had lately been surrounded by every conceivable example of it, she might have supposed her feelings to be neutral, tending even toward apathy.

For once in her life, Ahsoka was not quick-witted enough to prevent the evil which she anticipated; the tiger had not found her standing agog, but Captain Rex did when finally he turned from his washstand. He became fixed in astonishment.

To run would be cowardly; Ahsoka had simply to address him as if indifferent to the novelty of their situation. “Your door, sir — it appears the latch needs mending,” observed she, feeling foolish. But heroines did not linger in passageways under mortification when they might charge forth and obtain their prize. Ahsoka hurried into his coach — the dimensions of which seemed to decrease exponentially with the slight addition of herself — and closed the door with as much studious deliberation as if she were the carpenter’s mate.

To her relief, the mechanism did not answer; the latch had failed, not her stratagem; she said a few insipid words more on the subject, but quite lost her theme when Rex stepped forward, his brow contracted.

“You were not going above?” asked he, more concerned by her attire than the door which her body now secured.

“I could not sleep and was desperate for air.”

Rex had to advise against it — the weather was very bad, she would be soaked through, would the cabin’s windows not answer? — but Ahsoka did not attend. She was overpowered by the essence of him, which, magnified by his nearness, his recent washing, and this confined space with few draughts, crowded her senses most deliciously; and in her effort to keep her eyes at decent latitudes, Ahsoka found herself staring at a string of shark’s teeth he wore around his neck.

He twigged her distraction with a hand on his collar. “Ah — I have spoiled my surprise, Miss Tanough. I well remember your passion for fanged jewelery.” Still heedless of his half-nakedness, Rex produced a small pouch from his dressing chest, drew forth a necklace similar to his own, and, taking her hand, draped it across her palm. “This had been meant for when you crossed the line. I bespoke more than my fair share from your shark, I confess, but jack tars will barter their mother for hasheesh, so I had no need of any dubashi tricks; and when I learned the sailmaker’s mate was an artist and a reputable cove, I engaged his services directly.”

Each tooth had been cleaned and polished into pearly beauty; and on the reverse of each Ahsoka found an finely etched letter, which together formed the words, ‘Gloriana’s Empress’.

“He was careful to pierce the crudest part of the tooth, so the holes might not offend if you have them mounted in London. My own attempt at engraving would have ruined them,” — here Rex’s mode of address became less certain — his speech, already quiet, became almost hushed — “and although not my hand, I hope you understand my … — I hope the sentiment is still felt.”

Ahsoka felt too much to speak; for a moment she could only admire the smooth bones between her fingers, before smiling broadly and saying, “Indeed, I feel it so keenly, I cannot conceive parting from it for a moment, least of all to have it spoilt by ormolu or gold — no, I shall wear it exactly as it is, strung with true sail thread from my floating empire. But pray, if I am empress, where does that leave Commodore Ferris?”

“Codry remains God.”

“Omniscient?”

“Let us pray not,” replied he, throwing out an arm against the door to steady himself against the mounting swell.

Situated so beneath a cavalryman whose entire being seemed to marry the brilliance of gold and the warmth of honey, it is little wonder Ahsoka began to lose much presence of mind; but still could she count, and she observed the teeth of his own necklace, equally buffed and perfected, numbered six. Her imagination, though active, was not wild or predisposed to invent self-flattery, yet Ahsoka felt emboldened to finger his own strand and ask innocently, “And what is spelt on yours?”

The dim light would not betray any flush of cheek or twinkling of eye, but the manner in which Rex dropped his head spoke to a desire to conceal — the answer could not be nothing. “That is a secret.”

“If you tell me and chase it with a kiss, it is sure to remain so.”

An embrace between two young people, unrelated and unmarried, can never be really chaste, and this couple did not even attempt to colour it so. The author will be discreet where they were not, and say only that the chief effect of their misconduct tended somewhat to the good; for if Miss Ahsoka Tanough could ever to be prevailed upon to consider marriage — outside odds still, to be sure — Captain Rex was fast becoming the only man in the world with a chance of success.

[carewyncromwell]

POTC AU go time! Pictured above are fresh-faced pirate Charlie Weasley, the mystical witch of Tortuga Chiara Dalma, and so-called “Pirate Dragon” Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts! Looks like these three are a bit over their heads...let’s see if they can get out of it!

For those of you who appreciate my mini-history lectures surrounding real Caribbean pirates of the 17th and 18th century (please let me know if you do, I will happily geek TF out if it’s something you all like XD) -- Tortuga is an island in modern-day Haiti. It was originally a Spanish colony, settled in the 15th century not long after Mr. Despicable himself Christopher Columbus “discovered” the New World. Despite this, and despite the, er...tempestuous relationship between Spain and its neighboring countries, Tortuga ended up also hosting both English and French settlements, largely made up of buccaneers, in the 17th century. Buccaneers were an ancestor of the more classic “pirates” we think of today -- the biggest differences were that they were privateers, meaning they worked on behalf of a country and only attacked ships from other countries (i.e. a British privateer like Sir Francis Drake would only attack Spanish or French ships), and that buccaneers specifically congregated in that area of the Caribbean (namely, Tortuga and the island of Hispaniola) alone. Historically, however, Tortuga stopped being a great place for buccaneers to gather before the end of the 17th century -- specifically when treaties were passed officially banning those old privateers from attacking foreign vessels during times of peace, circa 1680. This also effectively killed off the buccaneer as a profession, until the War of Spanish Succession turned a lot more privateers who had fought during the War into the more classic 18th century pirates we think of today. During the most famous period of the Golden Age of Piracy -- namely, the third and final wave after the War of Spanish Succession ended in 1714, which hosted all of the best known pirates like Blackbeard and which both the Pirates films and this AU is set in -- it would’ve been far more common to find actual historical pirates in places like St. Mary’s Island off the coast of Madagascar or (I’m not kidding) Port Royal, Jamaica, which was quite frankly NOT the beautiful, upstanding city we see in the films. In truth, it actually prospered under piracy, until Port Royal’s leadership finally decided to crack down hard on pirates circa 1720. In this project, though, for the sake of iconography, I will treat Tortuga very much the way Port Royal would’ve really been historically -- a pirate island which, in this time period, was suddenly barraged by the pirates’ enemies and was immediately no longer a safe place for pirates to hide in. (Of course, historical pirates were much less likable or sympathetic than the pirate characters in this AU are, regardless of how objectively hard their existence was and how frankly horrid the world was in general for anyone who wasn’t upper-class, white, and male back then.)

The so-called “seven seas” have gone through a lot of “shuffling around” over the centuries, as our understanding of the world has grown. The phrase was first used by the Ancient Greeks, but back then of course, they didn’t know about the existence of bodies of water like the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean. In the Pirates films, there are nine Pirate lords for the Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic Oceans, as well as the South China, Caspian, Adriatic, Black, Mediterranean, and Caribbean Seas. I’ve slimmed down the number to just seven for the sake of referencing the so-called “seven seas,” and also because with the Pirate King, that would then give us eight pieces of eight, which seems like a much more logical number than nine pieces of eight. (Plus, to me, the Caspian and Black Seas are kind of weird choices to have Lords for as the Caspian is land-locked and the Black Sea can only be sailed into through a narrow channel in the Mediterranean...and from what I can tell, there wasn’t much 17th-18th century piracy specifically centered around those two seas either.)

Previous part of the AU is here -- whole tag is here -- and of course Jules Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier and Finn McGarry / Davy Jones belongs to @theguythatdraws. <3

x~x~x~x

In the nearly three weeks since Jules, Bill, and Charlie said goodbye to Carewyn, the three had practically been thrown head-first into what piracy truly meant. Sailing aboard the Artemis hadn’t been as glamorous as the stories Jules grew up with, but trying to steer the Revolution with only three people aboard without enough food or drink to go around, all the while knowing that just about no ships they might come across and very few islands they might land on would be friendly to them, was something that didn’t sink in until one was left sitting up all night thinking it over. Everything the three owned now -- everything they were -- was either on their person or on this ship...and if anything happened to the ship, they wouldn’t just lose the belongings they had on board, but also the only way they could transport themselves out of danger and the only “home” they still had. No one would likely even know anything had happened to them until days, weeks, or even months afterwards. It was like nothing tethered them to the Earth at all -- like they had no gravity and could just fly up into the air at any time, disappearing forever without a trace.

There was a freedom to it, of course, knowing that you didn’t have to be defined by how you were born or what arbitrary value society placed on you...and yet, the freedom came at a cost.

The three Weasleys arrived on the island of Tortuga within four days. Truthfully it wasn’t really a place a lot of people would enjoy visiting -- it was loud, filthy, seedy, and treacherous, and yet, it was a safe place for them to fill their bellies and get their ship repaired and outfitted with new crew members.

There were a few pirates who initially balked at the idea of joining the crew of a ship captained by a woman, but before long, Jules made a name for herself in Tortuga after she was able to out-maneuver two drunken men twice her size in a fight, the first by ducking under his arm and then smashing a bottle of rum over his head to knock him out and the second by stealing his own pistol out of his belt and pointing it right between his eyes until he backed off. 

Charlie couldn’t help but grin as the pirate rather cowardly slunk off like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“Bloody hell, Jules!” he laughed. “Reckon you scared him so bad he’ll be running off crying to Mummy...”

Jules crossed her arms, the man’s pistol still in her hand. “Well, he had it coming. Not wanting to be on our crew I can accept, but I am not a thing he can pay for.”

“You can’t be bought, period,” agreed Bill lowly, shooting a rather dirty look at the man’s back as he secured an arm around his wife’s waist. “Least of all by a disgusting cur like him.”

Charlie gave a low whistle.

“Blimey, Bill, a man of the Church, swearing like that?” he teased. “Whatever happened to turning the other cheek?”

“Ecclesiastes 3:8 -- ‘there is a time to love and a time to hate,’” said Bill coolly. “This is not a time to love.”

Jules smiled wryly up at Bill.

“I might have to disagree,” she said amusedly, as she tilted his head down enough to ensnare his lips with her own.

Not long after they arrived, Orion and the crew of Artemis met the Weasleys in Tortuga, as planned. It was good to see some familiar and friendly faces, in a sea of insincere smiles and shady looks. Orion immediately introduced the crew of the Revolution to a few of his “friends” on the island -- Andre Egwu, a rather fashionable pirate who had once been both a tailor and a French privateer; Erika Rath, the rough-and-tough owner of the Faithful Bride tavern, who had been a pirate herself before settling in Tortuga to offer a safe place to those who were too ill, young, old, or otherwise unable to sail anymore; Ethan Parkin, Skye’s father and a retired pirate himself, who, despite being a rather egotistical sort that disdained Orion quite a bit, still was always willing to do the crew of the Artemis and their associates a favor, for the sake of his daughter; and a pirate solely called “Face Paint” who was known on the island for being a master of disguise that could not only look like anyone they wanted, but also make other people look like just about anyone else too.

Andre and Face Paint were able to help out all three Weasleys with their wardrobes, so that they “fit” a bit more with the pirates of the island. Bill picked out a new belt that could better fit a scabbard for his sword, and Jules finally got a hat worthy of a captain -- a forest green tricorn hat trimmed with silver embroidery. Charlie was even able to snatch up a pair of boots made of a black scaly material that reminded him of the pictures of dragons he’d see in books as a kid. Charlie had expected Andre to encourage him to shave too, since both he and Bill were already getting a bit stubbly since they hadn’t shaved since they left Port Royal, but Andre actually discouraged this.

“If people know you better without a beard, then you should grow one,” he advised. “The more different you can look from how you did before, the better the chances you’ll have of not immediately being recognized, if you collide with the wrong person. In general, my advice is to change your look up every four to six months, just to throw off the authorities.”

Bill, Jules, and Charlie also accompanied Orion on his visit to the far corner of Tortuga, over a small lake to an eerie-looking worn-down shack on stilts in the middle of the water, which was the home to the resident “witch” of Tortuga.

“Have you ever met a witch before?” Jules asked Bill and Charlie.

Both Weasley brothers shook their heads, looking a little disconcerted.

“She’s truly not as terrifying as everyone makes her out to be,” said McNully reassuringly. “I’d say there’s only a 63% chance she’ll curse you if you make a wrong move.”

Charlie shot him a flabbergasted look. “Oh, that’s encouraging.”

Skye gave a light “hmph!”

“My best piece of advice? Try not to make eye contact and let Orion do the talking,” she said under her breath. “The witch can do favors for you, if you somehow get on her good side and give her proper payment...but she doesn’t trust easily.”

“And likes anyone even more rarely,” added McNully, though he sounded more thoughtful than Skye. “Orion’s one of the few people I’d say she does favor a bit...though I reckon that’s because they go back a ways, and Orion’s not really like most pirates...”

“It’s pirates especially she doesn’t like,” said Skye. 

Charlie frowned. “If she doesn’t like pirates, then why is she here, on an island owned by pirates?”

“I reckon witches probably don’t have a lot of safe places they can live as it is, Charlie,” Bill pointed out somberly. “Even the Bible says you should not suffer a witch to live. She probably lives here because she doesn’t have much choice.”

When they reached the dock under the shack, they tied up their boat, McNully staying behind to watch it while Orion, Skye, Jules, Bill, and Charlie climbed the ladder up into the shack itself. It was a bizarre place with various bottles, model planets, and other such trinkets dangling from the ceiling, and toward the back of the single large room was a table covered in a dirty grayish white tablecloth covered in spots and stains.

The witch called Chia Dalma was almost ethereal in appearance, from her long, flowing white hair to her sea-blue eyes to her bloodless, porcelain skin. She wore a rather worn, clearly second-hand dark red dress and a full-moon-shaped locket around her neck. She also considered all of Orion’s party with considerable distrust in her eyes -- Charlie felt like he was being X-rayed. Orion, however, acted as though he didn’t even notice the scrutiny the others were getting and spoke to Chia very pleasantly after giving her some incense and a jar of candied pineapple.

“How are the stars sounding, to you?” he asked. “From what I’ve seen, Venus is particularly bright, right now -- I would think you’ve heard a lot about love, in your conversations with the night sky.”

Chia finally tore her critical eye off of Charlie to turn to Orion, her posture still noticeably guarded.

“Yes,” she said, “though I believe there’s a reason you noticed Venus’s brightness in particular, as opposed to the rest of the planets’ movements.”

Her voice was very soft and understated, enough to make you freeze where you stood and hold your breath in a subconscious attempt to hear her better. Despite this, her discerning look on Orion was considerably less suspicious: if anything, it looked almost curious.

A flicker of a smile teased at the corners of Orion’s mouth. 

“...I suppose I may have.”

Bill and Charlie both shot Orion looks out the side of their eye. They had a feeling they knew exactly why that was.

Bill and Jules had talked to Charlie about their suspicions about Orion and Carewyn, and although Jules had been very supportive of it and even Bill acknowledged that Orion did seem to feel genuine affection for Carewyn, Charlie himself still felt a bit uncomfortable about it. To him, Carewyn was his twin -- although in a lot of ways, she was more like Bill personality-wise and Bill and she were clearly the best of friends, Charlie and Carewyn had still been two peas in a pod for a lot of the War. Because they were seen as twin brothers by the Navy, they were often positioned together and ended up supporting each other whenever Bill -- the person they both loved and trusted more than anyone else -- wasn’t around. This whole experience was the first time he’d really been apart from Carewyn since he’d first joined the Navy...and with Bill now married to Jules and the whole world suddenly being against them...Charlie found himself missing his “twin” more than ever.

‘Orion’s not a bad bloke,’ Charlie thought to himself. ‘If Carey really likes him, I’d understand, but...I just don’t want things to change anymore than they already have...’

Becoming estranged from Percy had been hard enough. Knowing that Bill and he would drift apart as his older brother made a life of his own with Jules, and thinking of Carewyn making a life of her own with Orion, while he himself was left on the sidelines...it was a thought Charlie didn’t like wallowing in.

Chia regarded Orion with a more solemn look as she took a seat at her table.

“It would behoove you to take a more complete look at the planets,” she said lowly. “There’s friction growing between Saturn and Uranus.”

Orion’s eyes narrowed, though his expression remained typically serene. Charlie glanced from Orion to Chia.

“...What does that mean?” he asked.

Skye shot him a look as if to warn him to be quiet -- Chia turned her attention to Charlie, her blue eyes boring into him with such intensity that Charlie flinched back a bit despite himself.

“Saturn represents Law -- a rigid structure,” she answered lowly. “Uranus, his father, represents Disorder -- Unpredictability -- Rebellion and Reformation. It suggests that there is to be great upheaval, very soon -- a large shift, the likes of which none of you have seen in your lifetimes.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Bigger than the War?”

Chia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“That was a War fought solely for the advancement of a few,” she said, her voice noticeably cool. “However big it felt to you, Charles Weasley, it merely reinforced what was already there, and so it will ultimately be forgotten. Only the ripples of that War -- the ones we feel, in this moment -- will leave any real impact.”

Charlie wanted to ask how Chia knew his name, but Orion spoke before he could.

“Can you tell which planet is rising, of the two?”

Chia glanced up at the model planets over her head pensively. “Right now, no. They’re on a collision course in the night sky, set to eclipse each other...but I can’t say which will fall first...and what will fall here on Earth, in response.”

Chia’s eyes drifted from Orion to Charlie to Jules, narrowing a bit more critically as she considered each of them in turn.

“One thing is for sure, though -- when two such powerful planets meet, it signals the end of an age. Whatever’s born from the ashes of that end may be up to whomever is fortunate enough to survive.”

The group left Chia Dalma’s feeling considerably less comfortable than when they arrived. Despite this, and despite how weirded out he was that she’d known who he was before he’d even told her his name, Charlie had to admit to himself that she didn’t seem as scary as Skye or McNully had made her out to be. She kind of reminded him of the ocean in a way -- mysterious and intimidating, sure, but ultimately something worthy of respect. Even just the way she spoke seemed to hint to her being much older than her face would suggest.

No one in the group had any idea what Chia Dalma could’ve meant when she discussed “an great upheaval” until over a week later. That was the day that the Flying Dutchman arrived on the shores of Tortuga and, without any warning, opened fire.

It was Hell the likes of which even Bill or Charlie had never seen. Cannonballs blasted through buildings, smashing windows and shattering walls. Before long, whole buildings were coming down and crushing people as they fled. Then the Flying Dutchman’s crew came ashore, undead and rotten and crusted over with barnacles and sea-life, as if they’d been swallowed up and spat back out of the sea itself -- and they killed and captured by the hundreds, with both swords and nets.

Then the Captain of the Dutchman himself, his octopus-like face visibly furious as his lobster-like claw clutched at the front of his chest where his heart should be, turned his ire on the settlement itself.

Cutler Beckett wanted him to send the pirates a message, did he? Well, then...he’d send them a message they’d see for miles.

With a click of his claw, Jones conjured up a large, flaming cinder, which he then chucked at the Faithful Bride. In an instant, it was set ablaze...and all of the pirates trying to hide inside the tavern were soon forced to flee and be captured, or burn to death. The fire spread from roof to roof, and soon all of Tortuga was in flames.

In the midst of the chaos, the crews of the Artemis and the Revolution hurried back to their ships, preparing to retreat. As Charlie ran behind Jules and Bill, however, he stopped abruptly when he caught sight of a white-haired figure being shoved around inside the crowd. It was Chia Dalma. She looked like she was trying to push through, but the horde was quickly devolving around her, trapping her in once spot.

Making up his mind very quickly, Charlie darted back the way he came.

“CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

“SET SAIL!” Charlie bellowed back. “I’LL CATCH UP!”

“CHARLIE!” Jules shouted too.

“Wait -- !” 

Was that Orion’s voice? Charlie had never heard him sound tense like that before. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop. He pressed on, unsheathing his sword as he pushed and shoved the other pirates aside.

“Move! Bugger off!”

Finally he was able to make his way over to Chia Dalma, just in time to block a block a blow from a shark-headed sailor’s sword.

“Oi!” he said angrily. “Leave the lady alone, you toothy maggot!”

The two immediately started to fight, until Charlie managed to get the upper hand by slashing at his flipper-like leg and then shoving him back off his feet through the window of a house.

He turned to Chia Dalma.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The witch’s gaze was just as piercing and guarded as it had been before as she analyzed Charlie’s face.

“Yes,” she said softly.

Charlie offered her a smile, even as more sailors charged at them.

“Stick close to me, all right?” he told her.

“You can’t win against the crew of the Flying Dutchman,” said Chia very gravely.

“Not with that attitude!” said Charlie almost cheekily. Seeing the severe look on her face, he said a little more seriously, “Look, I get that you don’t trust me -- I don’t know you at all either -- but I’m not just going to sit back and watch someone die if I can help it. And if this is the crew of Davy Jones, you’ll die if you stay here.”

The sentiment seemed to cause Chia visible pain. Her eyes abruptly hardened.

“Do not speak with such certainty about Davy Jones,” she said very sharply. “He may be a heartless being now, but that doesn’t make him devoid of conscience, or of feeling.”

Charlie frowned deeply and was prepared to ask Chia what she meant, but before he could, he soon found himself faced with another crew member from the Dutchman with a face covered in barnacles and starfish and had to immediately go on the attack again.

Charlie fought off three other fishy sailors, beating them back as best he could as she tried to steer himself and Chia back toward the docks. But as more time passed, the flames engulfing the nearby buildings only grew. Soot and ash rained from the air, making it harder to breathe by the second.

Charlie struggled to breathe normally as he fought the sailors away from Chia Dalma, but there were just too many of them, and just like with the cursed crew of the Revenge, they didn’t go down easily. Somehow, he managed to steer Chia to the dock, where the Revolution was still floating close by, their anchor already weighed and a ladder dangling off the edge.

“COME ON, CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

Coughing hard, Charlie brought an arm around Chia Dalma, pushing her slightly forward.

“Go on, climb up -- ”

BAM.

All of a sudden, Chia whirled on Charlie, grabbing hold of him and shoving him backward and to the ground just in time to avoid a giant explosion of flames that collided with the dock. The force of the explosion made the ocean water around the island crash, shoving the Revolution back with the force.

“CHARLIE!”

“CHARLIE!”

Charlie could hear both Bill and Jules’s voices as the ship was thrown backward away from the island by a massive, torrential wave. His heart gave a spasm of terror as he stared at the red-hulled ship being tossed like a bath toy in the chaos.

“BILL! JULES!”

Within moments, Charlie and Chia Dalma were surrounded by the Flying Dutchman’s crew. Charlie immediately stood in front of Chia protectively as they were encircled. The witch, for her part, looked disconcerted by the Dutchman’s crew’s appearance, but not in the way that she looked afraid -- if anything, she almost looked deeply troubled.

“There’s reluctance, in their eyes,” she murmured.

Charlie glanced back at her. “Huh?”

Chia’s lips came together seriously. “You know the purpose of the Flying Dutchman?”

“Yeah -- it’s supposed to ferry the dead.”

As Charlie considered this, he realized that this was strange. Why would a crew that was supposed to ferry those lost at sea into the next life be attacking Tortuga?

Chia nodded solemnly. “They’re not here of their own free will. Neither they nor Davy Jones...have come here because they wish to.”

Charlie felt his jaw clench as he stared down the circle of sailors holding up nets and pointing their swords at them as they prepared to capture them.

“Maybe they haven’t, but that doesn’t make them our mates,” he muttered.

Just as it seemed that Charlie was out-numbered, there was a loud rumbling down the street. A whole cart full of barrels were rolling right down the street, right at them.

Chia abruptly grabbed hold of the back of Charlie’s shirt and in an instant, the two had levitated about four feet off the ground, just in time to avoid the throng of barrels knocking over the Dutchman’s crew like nine pins.

As Chia and Charlie slowly returned to the ground, they were joined by another pirate -- a rather striking blonde with emerald-colored eyes. She held a pistol in one hand and her sword in the other as she rolled down the street on one of the barrels, jumping off of it to land on Chia’s other side.

“You both all right?” she asked, as she lifted her leg just enough that she could catch the barrel she’d arrived on with her foot.

“...Aye,” said Charlie after a moment, still a bit in awe about having just been floating in the air like a cloud. “Thanks, uh...?”

“Samantha O’Connell,” she introduced herself quickly.

Charlie blinked. “The Pirate Dragon?”

Both Samantha and he immediately had to duck to avoid a grenade being chucked over at them. It seemed some of the Dutchman’s sailors had recovered from the “barrel attack” and were coming back.

“Look, I’m all for introductions and ‘how-do-you-do’s,’” said Samantha with a wry smile, “but right now, we’d better move!”

Urging Chia in front of her, she then ran down the street away from the dock, Charlie at her heels.

It seemed that the infamous “Pirate Dragon” and Charlie also had a mutual friend in Orion Amari. Despite persuading both crews to “keep to the Pirate Code” (namely, that whoever falls behind is left behind), Samantha nonetheless had enough honor to -- upon seeing Charlie and Chia had been separated from the others -- backtrack enough to make sure they got away too, even if it couldn’t be on the Artemis or Revolution.

“I have my own ketch here at the eastern dock, which I’ll be taking back to my ship,” she explained as they ran. “There are a few others you can choose from, to steer yourself and Ms. Dalma here to Shipwreck Cove -- you’ll be safe there...”

“Shipwreck Cove?” repeated Charlie.

Chia Dalma’s eyes flashed at the name.

“The home of the Brethren Court,” she murmured very icily.

Samantha shot Chia a frown.

“Look, I get it if you don’t like going to another pirate haven, but it’s really the safest place, now. I doubt even Jones himself knows how to get there -- and once all the Pirate Lords assemble, we can come up with a plan to deal with this.”

Samantha immediately boarded the small blue-painted boat, preparing to cast off. Charlie was frowning more deeply than ever in confusion as he jumped aboard a neighboring red-painted ketch.

“There are Pirate Lords?” he asked.

“Of course -- the owners of the seven Pieces of Eight, representing each of the seven seas,” Samantha said logically, as if it were common knowledge. “Or at least six out of the seven -- the Piece of Eight representing the Pacific Ocean was lost after its Lord, Bartholomew Sharp, died...anyway, Orion’s one of the Lords too, so he’ll be able to show your sister-in-law the way and you can meet the rest of your crew there -- ”

Charlie could hear a lot of shouting and pillaging growing louder in the distance. Soon the Flying Dutchman’s crew would be on top of them again --

He quickly threw out a hand, offering it to Chia Dalma. “Come on -- we’d better hurry.”

Chia glanced back in the direction of the flaming city, her blue eyes narrowing. It almost seemed like she was conflicted.

“Listen, Ms. Dalma,” said Samantha sharply, “Jones is under the control of the East India Trading Company and the British Navy.”

Both Charlie and Chia Dalma straightened up abruptly, visibly shocked.

“I overheard Jones say that Beckett’s orders had been to ‘send a message to all pirates.’ That can only mean that Beckett has some leverage over Jones and has impressed him into service. We can’t hope to deal with Jones until we deal with Beckett’s leverage first, and to do that, we have to deal with Beckett.”

Chia once again looked at the flaming buildings, her eyes rippling with emotions Charlie couldn’t read. Then, at last, she closed her eyes, swallowed, and turned to Charlie, taking his hand and boarding the boat.

“See you in Shipwreck Cove!” said Samantha, shooting a bright smile over her shoulder at Charlie. “Good luck!”

Charlie watched her go, before weighing anchor and immediately setting sail with Chia Dalma himself.

The crew of the Flying Dutchman only arrived just in time to see the two ketches already floating off into the distance and out of sight. Chia herself stood at the railing of the boat long after Tortuga had disappeared over the horizon, holding the moon-shaped locket around her neck in her hand. Charlie pulled on the rigging to pull the sail toward the starboard side, glancing over at her with some sympathy.

“You knew Jones...didn’t you?”

Chia glanced back at Charlie, her eyes very unreadable. Then she returned her gaze to the horizon.

Charlie secured the rigging, knotting it tightly.

“...I understand how hard it is, to have to leave someone behind. There’s someone I’ve left behind too -- two people, in fact...who are also probably having to bow to the whims of Cutler Beckett, even if I’m sure they don’t want to...”

The memory of Percy’s pleading face and Carewyn’s stoicism in the face of her heartbreak both rippled over his mind.

“Charlie – don’t do this – think of Mum – think of us – ”

“I want you on a vessel so strong and so fast…that I can never catch up to you again.”

Charlie closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling heavily.

“...Sometimes, though...the only way you can really help them is by leaving them...however hard it is.”

There was a silence. Charlie opened his eyes and headed up to the helm, turning the wheel to help steer the boat through the waves.

While he was piloting the boat, however, he was interrupted by the soft clink. Chia Dalma had placed something on the edge of the deck within Charlie’s reach.

“This is for you, Charles Weasley,” she said.

Charlie blinked and picked it up. It was an old pewter button encrusted with gold and decorated with the icon of an anchor and an intricate cursive “S.”

“Oh, ah...thank you,” said Charlie awkwardly. He turned the button over in his hand. “...What’s the ‘S’ stand for?”

“Sharp,” Chia responded. “Bartholomew Sharp.”

Charlie straightened up. “The Pirate Lord Samantha mentioned?”

Chia inclined her head in a nod. “That is his Piece of Eight. Sharp abandoned his duties as Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean long before dying in prison in disgrace, and since then, it has been largely forgotten, by both pirates and honest explorers alike. It’s the last untamed sea, of the seven...”

Her blue eyes bore into Charlie’s face.

“...And now...it will be your responsibility...Pirate Lord Charles Weasley.”

[scotianostra]

February 4th 1941 saw the SS "Politician" run aground at  Eriskay in the Outer Hebrides, creating the basis for Sir Compton MacKenzie's novel "Whisky Galore".

There’s a traditional Scottish song about a loch that includes the lines, “how nice it would be if the whisky were free and the loch was full up to the brim.” For the inhabitants of Eriskay in 1941, the whisky did come for free and although there wasn’t a brim full loch, there was a ship whose hold was nearly full to the rim with ‘uisge beatha’. 

Eriskay was spared the worst of wartime rationing by producing much of its own food but supplies of whisky had almost completely dried up. The prospect of 28,000 cases just waiting to be liberated saw the islanders, not only on Eriskay, but from Barra and Uist plunder the wreck under cover of darkness in the weeks that followed, it has been said that hundreds arrived on Eriskay from as far away as Lewis, some 130 miles to the north, pulling an estimated 24,000 bottles from the 450ft stricken vessel.

The authorities soon arrived on the island to confiscate looted cargo and prosecute anyone found to have stolen it.

Customs officer Charles McColl was so incensed that he scoured the island, forcing residents to hide their bottles or drink them to hide the evidence. McColl looked everywhere, raiding homes and searching hen houses and looking in all the byres, he is said to have been like a man possessed in his quest to claw back as much of the Islanders ill gotten gains! 

A handful of islanders were caught red-handed and while some spent a month in jail, most were let off with a few pounds fine by police who were tired of prosecuting their neighbours.

On 26 April at Lochmaddy Sheriff Court a group of men from Barra pleaded guilty to theft and were charged between three and five pounds. Mr McColl was furious at the leniency of the men’s sentences, but the police, being mainly locals themselves, were tired of the bothering the locals who had not, in their minds, done such a bad thing. However, Mr McColl continued his crusade against these illegal salvagers and some of the men were sentenced to up to six weeks in prison in Inverness and Peterhead.

Back at sea, the official salvage attempts were not going too well, and it was eventually decided to let the Politician remain where she was. Mr McColl, who had already estimated that the islanders had stolen 24,000 bottles of whisky, ensured that there would be no more temptation. He applied for, and was granted, permission to explode her hull and as one islander, Angus John Campbell, commented: “Dynamiting whisky. You wouldn’t think there’d be men in the world so crazy as that!”

In 1987 Donald MacPhee, a local South Uist man, found eight bottles of whisky in the wreck. He sold them at auction for £4,000.

The wreck of the SS Politician still lies off the coast of Eriskay, although it is below the water line as winter gales have destroyed the deck and cabins. In 1988 the island got its own ‘legitimate’ pub, named ‘Am Politician’.

It wasn't only whisky in the hold of the SS Politician, swathes of linen were liberated, there was also bicycles on board, but these were left by the locals, back then there was no real roads on the island! The local priest later reminisced "There was a grand piano as well but none of our homes was big enough to accommodate a grand piano." Other items were as diverse as biscuits and medicine,  but the most curious thing in my opinion was 290,000 10-shilling notes destined for the then colony of Jamaica – in other words, £145,000 or, in modern terms, several million pounds.

At first, the authorities were not hugely concerned. The eight cases containing the money were first reported to be covered in fuel and water; then presumed swept away by the seas. At one point, the head of the salvage operation was said to have given a few away as souvenirs.

Then reports filtered through of some of the notes being found at Benbecula, 25 miles north of the wreck site. This was potentially more worrying but, even if the islanders had got their hands on some of the money, what would they spend it on? In the Outer Hebrides? During wartime?

By June 1941, four months after the SS Politician’s demise, branches of the Barclays and Midland Banks in Liverpool began reporting the presentation of water-damaged Jamaican 10-shilling notes.

By 1943, the notes had turned up in London, across the south of England, in Stoke-on-Trent and in the north of Scotland.

By 1958, the Crown Agents made a final tally: of the 290,000 notes, 211,267 had been recovered; 2,329 had been presented in banks all over the world, including the US, Switzerland, Ireland, Malta and – of course – Jamaica; and the Agents estimated that about two-thirds of these had been presented ‘in good faith’.

That leaves 76,404 notes – or £38,202 – unaccounted for, along with maybe 24,000 bottles of whisky – not to mention the rest of the ship’s cargo. How much was taken by the sea, and how much fell prey to the impromptu salvage operations mounted by the locals of Eriskay, Barra, North and South Uist, and Lewis?

We will almost certainly never know.

[rivet-ing-titanic]

April 26th, 1912 - American Inquiry Day 8

The Evening Star of Washington DC, April 27. 1912, shows Ernest Gill, right, in opposition to his Captain, Stanley Lord, left. 

Day 8: The subcommittee returned to their normal way of conducting the inquiry, although later than normal due to how late testimony was being given the night before. Notable among the witnesses today is Captain Stanley Lord, and Marconi Operator, Cyril Evans, both of the SS Californian. Both men will spend the rest of their careers, and lives with the shadow of that Sunday night, and their actions, or lack there-of. Before testimony is heard, Senator Smith reiterates that “everything that transpires in connection with this inquiry is public, and no attempt whatever to suppress any part of the testimony, or the circumstances surrounding it; will be made.” 

Witnesses:

Philip Franklin, Vice President, International Mercantile Marine Co.;

Ernest Gill, Donkeyman, SS Californian;

Stanley Lord, Captain, SS Californian;

Cyril F. Evans, Marconi Operator, SS Californian;

Frank O. Evans, Able Seaman, RMS Titanic (recalled);

Notable Quotes/Lines of Questioning or Summarized Testimony:

Philip Franklin starts the morning off by explaining the circumstances that had transpired in order to subpoena the captain, Marconi officer and several crew of the SS Californian in Boston on April 25th. Consideration was given for their arrangements to travel to Washington working around the ship’s next planned sailing on the 27th. When the Inquiry started this morning, Lord and C. Evans are on their way by train from Boston to Washington, and would arrive later that afternoon to testify.

Senator Smith also questions Franklin again about the official and non-official communication regarding the accident, when he first heard and from whom, who he communicated with, and what was communicated. Franklin is very forthcoming and had already provided the subcommittee all relevant telegrams, but Smith continues to query him about it.

There is very interesting conversation between Franklin and Smith regarding the Titanic operator’s conduct in the matter of the ice report around 5pm Sunday from the Californian that he originally ignored but picked up about 30 minutes later from the Baltic. I appreciate and would support Mr. Franklin’s testimony, and essentially arguments made against what Smith has been saying, in regards to timing and conduct, and whether the operator should be employed by Marconi or the ship owner. LINK to the second half of Franklin’s testimony which I believe is worth the read.

At the end of what seems like a tense back and forth between the two, Senator Smith and Mr. Franklin discuss how he and his employees have been treated through-out the inquiry. While Franklin understands the position, he emphasizes how he would desire to send non-Americans home, but Smith digs his heels in. Smith reiterates why them being there is so important, and that until he is satisfied that they have been completely thorough in this inquiry, he will not allow anyone to be sent home.

Senator Fletcher asked if it would be practical to run ships in pairs across the ocean, to which Franklin replies that he does not think it practical, and continues to insist as Fletcher inquires more into his reasoning.

Ernest Gill, second donkeyman (person in charge of a ship’s engine room) of the Californian¸ is read his own personal statement  by Senator Smith, and affirms all that was read to be true. READ THIS WHOLE THING!!! 

In Gill’s statements, he tells of what transpired on the night of Sunday April 14th. He recounts that he had seen “a big vessel” from the deck around 11:56. He states that “They could not have helped but see her from the bridge and lookout.” Then, unable to sleep he comes back on deck around 12:30 and sees the rockets, saying to himself, “that must be a vessel in distress.” It wasn’t his duty to notify the bridge “but they could not have helped but see them [the rockets],” so he turned in with the belief that the ship would go to the distressed vessel’s aid.

“The next remark I heard the second pass was, ‘Why in the devil they didn't wake the wireless man up?’ The entire crew of the steamer have been talking among themselves about the disregard of the rockets. I personally urged several to join me in protesting against the conduct of the captain, but they refused, because they feared to lose their jobs.” – Gill

“I am quite sure that the Californian was less than 20 miles from the Titanic, which the officers report to have been our position. I could not have seen her if she had been more than 10 miles distant and I saw her very plainly. I have no ill will toward the captain or any officer of the ship, and I am losing a profitable berth by making this statement. I am actuated by the desire that no captain who refuses or neglects to give aid to a vessel in distress should be able to hush up the men.” – Gill

 Seriously, read Gill’s statement, it isn’t very long and its got juicy deets.

“From the position we stopped in to the position at which the Titanic is supposed to have hit the iceberg, 19 1/2 to 19 3/4 miles; south 16 west, sir, was the course.” – Lord

When they finally did go to Titanic’s aid, Lord estimates (per the Californian log book) it took them 2.5 hours to get to her location at full speed in the morning. When asked had they received the C.Q.D. from Titanic, Lord estimates at least 2 hours. Gill saw the rockets at 12:30; Titanic went under at approximately 2:20; going full speed, based on estimates the Californian, that night of the sinking could have gotten there right as Titanic potentially saving those in the water, and almost 2 hours before the Carpathia. This is if they went when they saw the rockets later after the wireless operator had turned in. Had they received the Titanic’s initial C.Q.D. which was sent at midnight, the Californian could have been there when the Titanic was not yet fully foundered, and potentially saved a lot more lives. (This is my own trail of thinking based on testimony, NOT fact.)

” I saw several empty boats, some floating planks, a few deck chairs, and cushions; but considering the size of the disaster, there was very little wreckage. It seemed more like an old fishing boat had sunk” – Lord

In regards to the distress signals, Lord tells a short story about how things played out. He claims to have seen a “peculiar light” coming along, however they “could not distinguish where the sky ended and where the water commenced. You understand, it was a flat calm” and another officer told him he thought it was a star, so Lord went below. “A quarter past he [the officer] said, ‘I think she has fired a rocket.’ He said, ‘She did not answer the Morse lamp and she has commenced to go away from us.’ I said, ‘Call her up and let me know at once what her name is.’ So, he put the whistle back, and, apparently, he was calling. I could hear him ticking over my head. Then l went to sleep.” - Lord

“We could not have seen her Morse code; that is an utter impossibility.” –Lord who also claimed the distress rockets could have been mistaken as a shooting star or not seen at all. Interesting though, because according to Gill, multiple people saw them.

The Californian’s chief officer (Stewart) woke C. Evans at 3:30 saying "There is a ship that has been firing rockets in the night. Please see if there is anything the matter."  At that point he got word from the Frankfurt(German liner) that the Titanic had sunk and her location. This was followed up with an official message from the Virginian, with the same details.

There was lots of talk, as they headed towards the Titanic’s location, between the crew members of the Californian, regarding seeing rockets and informing the Captain of said rockets earlier in the night.

According to C. Evans, Gill had mentioned “I think I will make about $500 on this” in regards to telling the press about the rockets.

“I should think between 150 and 200. We had great difficulty in getting through them to get to the wreck” – F. Evans (regarding bodies in the water, they passed through them to get to the overturned collapsible boat)

“The first child was passed over, sir, and I caught it by the dress. It was dangling. I had to swing it, and a woman caught it. The remainder of the children - there was a fireman there and with the assistance of a young woman they caught the children as they were dropped into the boat. There were none of the children hurt. That was the only accident, with this woman. She seemed a bit nervous. She did not like to jump, at first, and then when she did jump she did not go far enough, and the consequence was she went between the ship and the boat.” – F. Evans

Evans says she parted between the third and fourth funnel. 200ft. of the stern left visible, sitting horizontally for about 4-5 minutes after the forepart went down. Stern then plunged forward perpendicular.

  SEE American Inquiry Day 7 here.

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

Throat by Throat: Part 2

(Pagebreak to not hog peoples feeds.)

“Sir, a moment of your time.” The elderly hyur named Tyber Kernhiem paused and glanced over his gilded shoulder.  He adjusted his golden spectacles and sized up the miqo’te male dressed in a Brass Blades uniform that was running up to him.  The miqo’te, a thin, gangly creature with grey, pallid flesh and hair the color of old soot stopped and took a moment to catch his breath, something that seemed to agitate Tyber, who cast a look around and then stepped into a small space between two pillars and waved the miqo’te over so they could talk out of the Ul’dahn street. “This had better be important A’trus, I’m already running behind for a meeting.” Tyber said, pausing to adjust his fine robes. “I know sir.” A’trus paused.  “But, its important.  The Brass Blades found Alec and, well, “ A’trus shook his head.  “As you feared.”

Tyber sucked on his teeth as he took a long inhale and he processed that news.   “Alec, dead. Could have certainly come at a better time.” Tyber grunted with a low sigh, running his fingers over the neatly trimmed, slat-and-pepper beard that covered his chin.  “Words on a motive?” A’trus shook his head. “Negative, but based on the report I managed to catch a glimpse of, seemed more like the work of a mad butcher or a crime of passion versus a contract kill.  Said they took the bodies away in bags, piece by piece.” “So someone either knew their allegiance and this was a killing in retribution or, we have a new serial killer on the loose, perhaps.” “Latter is how the Blades are investigating it. Far as the Blades know, Alec and his team were just a group of merchants walking home and were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” “Good.  Make sure that continues.  Last thing we need is the Blades finding any threads that lead to us.” “Aye, sir.  Now as for the killer, we have one witness with a description.  Isn’t much to go off but we’re going off it. So far, we think either the killer is still in the city or took a ship across the sea, depending on which rumor trail we follow.” “I take it you are already following through on this?” A’trus nodded and flashed yellow teeth.   “Spinning a web as we speak, sir.” “Send a runner or letter soon as you have more. For now, I’d like to delay sending this report any further up the chain until we have a course of action in place.  I’d hate for anyone higher to get jumpy.” “Aye, sir.” A’trus nodded.  He then glanced around and, seeing no one close, leaned in and said, very softly: “All is collected.” “All is held.”  Tyber replied just as softly and then waved his hand, resuming the role of an Uldahn merchant.   “As you will, Blade, I’ll be by to sort this issue with my taxes out on the morrow.” “Very good.” A’trus answered, turning and slowly slithering back from whence he came.  Tyber turned and pretended to give the miqo’te no further thought as he resumed his stroll down the street.  But inside, Tyber was weighing things over. Three of his agents being cut down was uncomfortable news.  Best case scenario, this was the work of a random killer and this was all coincidence. But Tyber had been alive long enough to know that true ‘coincidence’ was rare. After Frandrin Mandrin’s untimely end at the hands of Tray’ju and the Sweepers, Tyber’s superiors in ‘The Holder Collective’ had sent him to try and pick up the pieces and salvage what could be salvaged from the death of their greatest asset inside Ul’dah.  Tyber had discovered there was nothing to salvage and that he would have to start anew.  The Sweepers’ efforts were impressive and Tyber marveled at how a group of murderous crooks could have taken on someone as powerful and as well connected as Frandrin and triumph. But in the end, they had been simple crooks and nothing more.  Over a course of six months, Tyber spread his agents, whispers, lies, rumors, and gil in an ever-expanding effort to dismantle the Sweepers.  An effort that was ultimately labeled a success by his superiors. And that was what was giving him pause. Despite the very numerous killings and incarcerations of the Sweeper ranks caused by his subtle manipulations across Eorzea, the most prominent heads of the festering hydra had never been confirmed dead.  Tyber had long hoped that the rumors of Tray’ju dying at sea when his vessel was set upon by pirates was true. Certainly, the infamously flamboyant miqo’te had seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth.  But that still left Tray’s bloodthirsty second Haname and his notoriously clever third,  Apa, unaccounted for and they would likely hold a grudge. But, there was then the option that this murder was committed by someone that despised Garleans and wished them dead for that alone. The Holder Collective had once been a pure, Garlean organization bent on performing clandestine acts to benefit the Empire.  But under the leadership of the mysterious ‘Mr. Blue’, the Holder Collective had slowly been morphing into an entity more concerned with its own power and preservation than the fate of the Empire that had given it birth.

Tyber, himself, a true Imperial loyalist, had his reservations about the growing rift between the Empire and the Collective, but held his tongue.  The Collective’s actions, thus far, still benefited the Empire and so long as that continued, Tyber would keep his opinions to himself. Tyber turned a corner and put such thoughts from his mind.  He still had a job to do and his quest to find Monetarists or Royalists inside the Ul’dah court that could be turned was his primary goal; and he had a possible bite to reel in.  

[solitaria-fantasma]

Dark Arts and Demons - Ch. 31

As she looked across the table at the unnatural gray eyes of Arthur - no, not Arthur. Penn, Lance had called him - Savina told herself that this was not the strangest thing she had seen in the past four years.

She almost wished it was.

“And this...switch...happened how…?” The Pepper matriarch glanced over Lance’s head at the boy sitting stiffly in a booth seat near the back of the restaurant. He’d stopped fidgeting only after accidentally snapping a piece off of the table’s napkin dispenser, and trying and failing to put it back. Now he was just sulking in the booth, staring at the broken piece as if he could will it back into place with sheer force of self-pity.

“Not a clue.” Lance shrugged. “Kid says he doesn’t remember much of anything before waking up in a parking lot.” He scratched at his beard. “But he was hiking for at least two days before Kelling found him at Exit 40, and I haven’t got any frantic messages from your boy or Vivi, or even the dog.” Lance added. “If something terrible had happened, we’d’ve heard something by now. I’m confident in sayin’ that they’re all fine.” He paused.

“Well...maybe not fine fine,” Lance amended after a beat. “But at least not grievously harmed.”

Savina hummed quietly, and closed her eyes for a moment. Lance had a strong point. In the last two years, all three of the kids had become almost obsessive in their communication. From flat tires and heavy traffic to potential vampire threats, any bad news or delays resulted in an immediate call to one of the parents, at least. Lance would not have been this calm in circumstances like this unless he were legitimately assured that his nephew was unharmed.

“I already left messages on all their phones.” Lance added. “Either way, their schedule has them comin’ back here by tomorrow night at the earliest. I figured we could just keep an eye on this kid,” He nodded back towards Penn, now curiously poking through the menu left at the booth. “Until they get back, and then let them handle the rest of the supernatural bits.”

“Sounds like a fair plan...” Savina opened her eyes. She wasn’t keen on getting herself or her family any more involved in a supernatural mishap than they were already, if she could help it. Stepping back out of the way as soon as they could sounded like the best thing to do.

But until they, they couldn’t sit idle, either.

“Go have a seat, Lance.” Savina uncrossed her arms. “I’ll get some breakfast started, and once Cori and the girls get back, we can explain the situation to them.” She turned and headed for the kitchen, leaving Lance to return to the booth, and slide onto the bench seat across from Penn. The boy still had his nose buried in the menu, curiously reading descriptions for nearly two pages of dishes he’d never even heard of.

“Why does this say the milkshake is ‘hot’?” Penn asked, pointing to the promotional photo of a vanilla shake on the back page of the menu. “Doesn’t that have ice cream in it? Wouldn’t the ice cream melt if you heat it?”

“No, kid, they mean ‘hot’ like ‘spicy’.” Lance explained. “That’s what this place is known for - spicy foods and desserts and the like.”

“Spicy ice cream???” Penn sounded utterly confused. “You can make ice cream spicy???”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Lance chuckled. The signature spice of Pepper Paradiso wasn’t his thing any more than it was Arthur’s, but he’d sampled one or two of the crowd favorites just to say that he had. Some of them hadn’t even been that bad - Lance just didn’t see the point in setting his taste buds on fire for fun. “Hmm...on that note.” The man slid out from the booth, even though he’d only been there for a minute or so. “Sit tight, kid. I’ll be right back.”

“....?” Penn watched Lance head off towards the kitchen, where the tall (intimidating) woman had gone, and nervously turned back to the menu. Now that he was alone, that anxiousness from before was starting to return. He felt out of place...and not just because he now knew he was inhabiting someone else’s body. It almost felt like...he was being watched-

“BOO!”

“AAAGH!!” A voice shouted right next to his ear, and - with a frightened scream - Penn threw himself out of the booth seat. His feet got tangled in the table’s legs, however, and the poor boy unceremoniously pitched his face into the hardwood floor. His nose exploded in pain, and for a second, Penn saw stars. There was a gasp from somewhere above his head, and the sound of several feet hitting the floor.

“Cayenne!” A new voice scolded. “Look what you did!”

“What?? I didn’t think it’d scare him that much!” The first voice argued. “He never jumps that much…” Two pairs of small hands grabbed at his shoulders as Penn pushed himself up on his knees, wondering why his mouth tasted coppery, and the first voice hissed sympathetically.

“MOOoooOOOM!” Belle shouted towards the kitchen. “Cayenne scared Arthur and broke his nose!”

“NO I DIDN’T!” Cayenne immediately protested. Penn winced at the volume, and prodded at his nose. Was he bleeding? “THE FLOOR DID!”

“GIRLS!!” A third, male voice cut through the shouting, and both Belle and Cayenne stopped. A short, blond man with pinkish sideburns stood in the doorway across the restaurant floor, glaring sternly at the two older girls. A third, younger girl peered out from behind his legs, staring wide-eyed at the scene.

“Cayenne, go and get the paper towels.” Mr. Pepper ordered firmly. Cayenne wrinkled her nose, but wisely decided not to pick this battle, and stomped off towards the kitchen. “Belle, run and get some ice from the freezer, would you?” Belle nodded, and ran after her sister, though she turned in a different direction once through the door. Penn pulled his hand away from his face, and pulled a grimace at the red stain on his fingers. So that’s why he tasted copper…

“Here, Arthur, let’s get you up.” Mr. Pepper pulled the boy up to his feet, and sat him back in the booth. “We’ll get some ice on that nose, and you’ll be right as rain in no-time.”

“I’m not Arthur,” Penn thought it important to point out. A napkin was pushed into his metal hand, and he obediently started to wipe the blood off the flesh one. “But okay.” Mr. Pepper paused at the strange statement, but before he could give any response, Lance came out of the kitchen, ice and paper towels in hand.

“Oof, lad...” The mechanic winced, and Penn could only assume he looked nearly as bad as he had the night he’d been dropped off on Lance’s doorstep. “You look a right mess.” Penn’s response was muffled by a little bag of paper towel-wrapped ice being pressed against his nose. It tingled, and made him want to sneeze, but it did start to feel nice after the first shock wore off.

“I’m sorry about all this...” Mr. Pepper said to Lance with a shake of his head. “I’m sure Cayenne didn’t mean to scare Arthur that badly. She likes her pranks, sure, but she never means any harm.”

“It’s fine, Cori.” Lance tipped up the ice pack for a moment to check the damage. “Looks like it just popped a few blood vessels. Nothing serious.” He took Penn’s left hand, and folded it around the ice pack on his face. “You hold that there for a bit. Don’t take that off until I tell you.”

“Yes, sir…” Penn muttered sullenly. Lance took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair before turning to look at Mr. Pepper.

“Alright, uh...the kid and I’ve got a story for you.” He started. Cori raised an eyebrow in confusion, but - as if on cue - the restaurant door slammed open before Lance could continue. A massive, white form shouldered its way through the door, teeth bared in a preemptive snarl, and seven tails flared almost to the ceiling.

“Ļa͏n̷çe͘. ̴Pe͝pp͜e͏r̸.̀” Mystery snarled. “G̀e̡t o͜út̸ o̢f͡ th͏e͠ ẃay̨.͡ Ṇ̢͕̺͉̰ͩͮ͆ͦͧ̾̔o̷̓͌ͯ̓ẅ̔͆ͣ.̴̟͇̩̬͙͒”

[1baddmouthcrown]

1900 Booker T. Washington founds the National Negro Business League.

Washington publishes his first autobiography “The Story of my life and work” editor of the New York Age Timothy Thomas Fortune.

October Washington attends the White House for dinner with President Theodore Rosevelt.

Du Bois attends the First Pan-African Conference in London and drafts letter ”Address to the Nations of the World” to the European heads of states.

Seay becomes a qualified educator and begins teaching in the Mayan village of Xcalak in Mexico.

1901 January 22 Queen Victoria passes away and Edward VII becomes King.

Garvey becomes apprentice to printer Alfred ‘Cap’ Burrowes in his native parish of Saint Ann.

Du Bois with his wife Nina and daughter Yolande ca. 1901

Washington publishes his second autobiography “Up From Slavery”.

Washington recieves honorary decorate from Dartmouth College.

Du Bois writes a critical review of WashingtonsUp From Slavery biography.

Queen Victoria passes away and Edward VII assessees to the throne.

1902 Vladmir Lenin publishes his “What is to Be Done” book.

Ras Makonnen travels to France and England.

Earnest Alfred Wallace Budge makes his first excavations at the city of Meroe.

1903 Du Bois publishes his 14 essay book The Souls of Black Folk containing his “Mr. Booker T Washington and others” essay.

Garvey leaves school after completing the 6th standard employed as compositor in the printery of Alfred E Burrows and company.

August The Second Party Congress of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party takes place.

1904 Garvey relocates from his native parish of Saint Ann 25 miles away to Alfred Borrows print branch in Port Maria, Saint Mary.

1905 Garvey moves to Smith Village in Kingston at 13 Pink Lane, begins working for P. A. Benjamin and exceeds to the position of foreman.

April The Third Party Congress of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party is held in London.

November 1 Tafari at 13 years old is appointed Dejazmatch of Gara Mullata by his Father Ras Makonnen.

Washington receives President Roosevelt at Tuskegee Institute.

December Du Bois purchases printing press and publishes the first African American Illustrated Weekly “The Moon”.

Budge makes more excavations at Meroe.

1906 January 23 Washington gives speech at Tuskegee Institute Silver Anniversary Lecture Carnegie Hall in New York City.

March 21 Tafari’s Dad Ras Makonnen dies in the city of Qullebi and is buried in the church of St. Michael in Harar which he founded.

April The Fourth Unification Congress of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party is held at Folkets Hus, Nada Bantorget, Stockholm.

May 9 Dejazmatch Tafari is given Ras Darge’s governorate of Sallale and his older brother Dejazmatch Yelma son of Wayzaro Assallafatch, Empress Taitu’s niece, their father’s governorate of Harar.

Du Bois and American Civil Rights activists meet in Canada and write declaration opposing Washington’s Atlanta Compromise and form the Niagara Movement.

August The Second Niagara conference commemorating the 100th anniversary of the abolitionist John Brown’s birth, is held in West Virginia at Harpers Ferry where Brown’s raid on the federal armory took place in 18.

gubernatorial election M. Hoke Smith Democratic primary nomination campaign to defranchize black voters in Georgia.

September 22 Saturday Afternoon rioting begins in Atlanta. Newspapers in Atlanta report four separate cases of alleged rapes on white women by black men, whites take to the streets and begin attacking blacks, by midnight 10, 000 whites in the Five Points section of downtown. 

10 p.m. The first three dead are reported some people are hospitalized with five deaths, three of those being that of black women.

Governor Joseph M. Terrell eight companies of the Fifth Infantry and one battery of light artillery.

African American Alonzo Horndon’s barber shop is attacked, black men are killed on the steps of the U. S. Post Office and inside the Marion Hotel, a mob attack the center of black business’s at Decatur Street, mobs attack at Peters Street and neighborhoods.

3 a.m. to 5 a.m. Heavy rain

6 a.m. Militia deployed in 

The Le Petit journal of Paris. Black men and black women were thrown from trolley cars, assaulted with clubs and pelted with stones.  

The New York Times reports 25 to 30 black men and women dead.

September 23 Sunday Hundreds of Blacks flee the city.

A group of armed black men meet in Brownsville near Clark University to talk about the rioting, three companies of militia are sent to Brownsville, an officer is killed in the ensuing shootout and 250 blacks are disarmed and arrested.

Du Bois publishes his “A Litany at Atlanta” essay criticizing Washington’s Atlanta Compromise.

1907 Hubert Harrison begins working at the United States Post Office.

January 14 Jamaica earthquake.

Garvey elected vice president of the compositors branch of the Kingston Typographical Union organised as affiliate #98 of International Typographical Union of American Federation of Labour.

Du Bois publishes his The Horizon: A Journal of the Color Line.

Philadelphia Quaker Anna T Jeanes donates 1 milion dollars to Washington for elementary schools for Negro children in the South.

October 10 Tafari’s brother Yelma dies, Dejazmatch Baltcha is given governorate of Harar.

Budge publishes the record of his excavations at Meroe in his book The Egyptian Sudan, Its History and Monuments.

1908 March 18 Garveys Mother Sarah Richards passes away at age 56.

April 4 Tafari is given part of the governorship of Sidamo.

November 28 Garvey participates in Jamaica print worker strike.

Du Bois attends the Fourth Niagara conference.

1909 Washington tours southern Virginia and West Virginia.

May Du Bois attends the First National Negro Conference in New York where the National Negro Committee is created chaired by Oswald Villard and also publishes his biography of abolitionist John Brown who raid Harpers Ferry Western Virginia.

August-September Garvey supports Jacob Warcham's election to the city council in Kingston and speaks at political meetings on behalf of H. A. I. Simpson in the general election.

German Orientalist Dr. Carl Bezold and the Bavarian Royal Academy publish their edition of the Ethiopic manuscript the Book of the Glory of Kings/the Kebra Negast with a German translation.

December Du Bois attends the American Historical Association where he reads his Reconstruction and its Benefits and has it published in the American Historical Review.

1910 Du Bois attends the Second National Negro Conference Committee where the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) is created and he becomes Director of Publicity and Research of its monthly magazine the Crisis.

Harrison writes two letters to the New York Sun critical of Washington which cost him his job at the United States Post Office.

March 3 Dejazmatch Tafari is finally given governorate of Harar.

March S.A.G. "Sandy" Cox forms the National Club of Jamaica.

April 20 Garvey is elected first assistant secretary along with apprentice tailor Wilfred Domingo, second assistant secretary of the National Club assisting with its fortnightly journal “Our Own” and also co publish “The Struggling Mass” pamphlet.

May 6 Edward VII passes away and George V assessees to the throne.

May 18 The legislative council suspend Cox for making Ill founded charges against certain public officers.

July 16 The Artisans and Labourers Union informs United Fruit Company that it intends to take August 1 Emancipation day in the British West Indies as a holiday from work.

August 1 5, 000 Jamaican's stage an Emancipation Day demonstration in Limon, Costa Rica and Garvey is 1 of 15 contestants in an all island elocution competition held at Collegiate Hall in Kingston where he protests the judges decision.

Garvey enrolls for elocution lessons with Bahamian born Dr. Robert J Love.

October Garvey travels to Costa Rica where his maternal uncle Henry Richards finds him employment as a time keeper on a Banana plantation in Limon.

November Over 700 workers recruited by the United Fruit Company in St. Kitts and Nevis arrive in Limon aboard a dangerously overcrowded vessel and are sent to outlying farms, where they face extremely unhealthy conditions. The workers return to Limon and refuse to return to work, they also demand that the British vice consul at Limon seek redress from the company. For 3 weeks the firm stand of the St. Kitts workers continues to generate the strong support of the Jamaican community.

November 17 Cox wins St. Thomas seat in the legislative council by large.

November Du Bois edits and publishes the first issue of The Crisis.

December Joseph Nathan, the leader of St. Kitts workers, is deported from Limon, signaling the end of the banana workers strike. Shorty after his expulsion and return to St. Kitts he helps to launch the labor movement in the Leeward Islands and assumes leadership of the Garvey movement in St. Kitts.

The leadership of the Artisans and Labourers Union collapses and is replaced by more militant members of the rank and file, but the new leaders are eventually deported from Limon.

Garvey publishes three issues of his Watchman journal named after George William Gordon’s journal the Watchman inspired by Psalm 127.

1851 October 8 The first case of Cholera is in Port Royal.

October 11 The first fatal of Cholera in the parish of Kingston.

40, 000 people in Jamaican die from Cholera part of the second Pandemic according to the Statistical Report of the Epedemic Cholera in Jamaica published in 1852 by John Parkin.

1864 crops are destroyed by floods in Jamaica effected by cholera and smallpox followed by a two year drought.

1865 Dr. Edward Underhill secretary of the Baptist Missionary Society in Great Britain writes a letter to the colonial office in London, the Governor of Jamaica John Eyre Underhill parish of Saint Ann petition Queen Victoria for land.

August A Baptist deacon, the Right Excellent Paul Bogle ordained by Sir George William Gordon, leads a 45 mile walk from Stony Gut in the parish of St. Thomas to Spanish town in the parish of St. Catherine, the then capital of Jamaica, to petition the Governor.

October 7 A man by the name of James Geoghegon creates a disturbance in Morant Bay court house during the trail of a man having charges brought against him for trespassing on an inactive sugar plantation, the police try to arrest Geoghegon, the obstruct and begin to fight with the police and the court house issues a warrant for those including Bogle.

October 11 Bogle leads hundreds to the court house, the confrontation between the group and the militia begins with the group attacking the militia with sticks and stones, the militia shoot and kill members of the group and at the end of this confrontation 25 people had been killed.

The parish goes into unrest, Eyre declares martial law and sends government troops led by Brigadier General Alexander Nelson to bring Bogle and those involved to the court to be tried and convicted, the militia kill innocent men, women and children totalling 439 dead, 354 people are arrested, tried and executed, some several hundred who are flogged and sentenced, the soldiers also burn thousands of homes.

Eyre has Gordon who he believes to have made the matter worse arrested in Kingston and brought to Morant Bay where he is tried under martial law, convicted and executed.

October 21 Gordon is tried and charged with high treason by Lieutenant Herbert Brand.

October 23 Gordon and Paul’s brother William are hanged.

1866 Eyre is criticized for his handling of the situation.

John Stuard Mills forms the Jamaica Committee which British Liberals.

The Committee present its cases against Brand and British Army Officer Brigadier Abercromby Nelson to the Central Criminal Court but the grand jury decline to certify these cases.

August Eyre returns to Britain.

September Thomas Carclyle forms the Eyre Defense and Aid committee.

The indictment against Eyre fails on the count that he lives in Market Drayton outside the jurisdiction of court, the council of the committee, Barrister James Fitz James Stephen travels to Market Drayton but fails to convince the Justices to endorse his case against Eyre.

The Jamaica Committee asks the Attorney-General to certify the criminal information against Eyre but are rebuffed.

Eyre moves to London.

The magistrate at Bow Street Police Court decline to arrest Eyre due to the failure of the cases brought against Brand and Nelson.

The prosecutors are successful in their application to the Queen's Bench for a writ of mandamus justified by the Criminal Jurisdiction Act 1802.

The case is presented to The Queen's Bench but its grand jury decline to find a true bill of indictment, and Eyre is freed of criminal pursuit.

1911 Harrison becomes Americas leading black socialist at the Socialist Party of America.

March Garvey in Costa Rica becomes editor of the daily newspaper La Nacionale, he writes a letter critical of the editor of the West Indian newspaper, The Times/El Tiempo, setting off protracted controversy between the two papers and later travels to Colon, Panama.

April Garvey launches a subscription for a "Coronation Fund" to celebrate the coronation of King George V, to be held on June 22.

June 7 Cox is unseated from legislative council.

June 10 Garvey resigns as head of the coronation committee organized by him and agrees to merge with the "official" coronation committee chaired by the Anglican archdeacon of Limon.

June 13 Following the demise of the Artisans and Labourers Union, a wave of intense religious revivalism sweeps over Limon. The Times weekly newspaper complains of the "vile practices which gave stirred the town during the past month the like of which has never been known in the previous history of Port Limon"

June 14 Just prior to his departure from Limon aboard the S. S. Cartago, Garvey is apprehended and escorted ashore, allegedly for unpaid debts to various creditors, including unpaid wages to the staff of La Nacion.

July 26 Du Bois attends the First Universal Race Congress in London with Sir Sydney Olivier Governor of Jamaica and Harry Johnston of the Royal Geographical Society among its attendees, joins the Socialist Party of America and publishes his “Quest of the Silver Fleece” novel.

July 31 Tafari at age 20 marries Wayzaro Manan in church ceremony.

August-September Garvey visits British Honduras gives elocution concert.

Randolph moves to New York City and studies Social Science at City College.

Cox is reelected to the legislative council at the general Election petition is fieled against Cox by Henry Cork.

1912 February 7 Edward Wilmot Blydenauthor of Christianity, Isalm and the Negro Race passes away in Freetown, Sierra Leone.

Harrison campaigns for Eugene V. Debs founder of the Industrial Workers of the World, as presidential candidate, writes the Negro and Socialism for the socialist newspaper the New York Call as well as the socialist monthly the International Socialist Review, founds the Colored Socialist Club and speaks at Broad and Wall Street in front of the New York stock exchange in Manhattan.

Du Bois is forced to resign from the Socialist Party of America for breaching its rules by supporting the Democrat Woodrow Wilson in presidential campaign.

Garvey sails to London where he attends evening classes at Birkbeck College.

August Garveys sister, Indiana, joins him in London.

Julius Rosenwald begins serving on the board of directors of Tuskegee Institute.

Mc Kay publishes his “Songs of Jamaica” as well as his “Constab Ballads” for which in the same year he is awarded the Jamaican Institute of Arts and Sciences, Musgrave Medal.

1913 January 1 Du Bois and New York State Commission attend the 50th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation, his "The Peoples of the People and Their Gift to Man" (later renamed The Star of Ethiopia) Pageant is performed Emancipation Proclamation.

Meroe geographically was known to the Greeks as Ethiopia, according to the Greek historian Herodotus who lived during the 5th century BC Meroe had the reputation of being the mother city of the Ethiopians.

Candice the Queen of Ethiopia has also been identified with the Kandake’s of the Kingdom of Kush whilst it was centered at the city of Meroe because of the King Taharqa the Kingdom of Kush whilst it was previously centered at Napata in Nubia prior to Meroe Taharqa in the bible is mentioned as being the King of Ethiopia having assisted Hezekiah King of Judah in conflict with the Assyrians.

And when he heard say of Tirhakah king of Ethiopia, Behold, he is come out to fight against thee: he sent messengers again unto Hezekiah, saying, Thus shall ye speak to Hezekiah king of Judah, saying, Let not thy God in whom thou trustest deceive thee, saying, Jerusalem shall not be delivered into the hand of the king of Assyria. 2 Kings 19:9-10/Isaiah 37:9-10

And he arose and went: and, behold, a man of Ethiopia, an eunuch of great authority under Candace queen of the Ethiopians, who had the charge of all her treasure, and had come to Jerusalem for to worship,Was returning, and sitting in his chariot read Esaias the prophet.Then the Spirit said unto Philip, Go near, and join thyself to this chariot.And Philip ran thither to him, and heard him read the prophet Esaias, and said, Understandest thou what thou readest?And he said, How can I, except some man should guide me? And he desired Philip that he would come up and sit with him.The place of the scripture which he read was this, He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb dumb before his shearer, so opened he not his mouth:In his humiliation his judgment was taken away: and who shall declare his generation? for his life is taken from the earth.And the eunuch answered Philip, and said, I pray thee, of whom speaketh the prophet this? of himself, or of some other man?Then Philip opened his mouth, and began at the same scripture, and preached unto him Jesus. And as they went on their way, they came unto a certain water: and the eunuch said, See, here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized?And Philip said, If thou believest with all thine heart, thou mayest. And he answered and said, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. And he commanded the chariot to stand still: and they went down both into the water, both Philip and the eunuch; and he baptized him. And when they were come up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught away Philip, that the eunuch saw him no more: and he went on his way rejoicing. But Philip was found at Azotus: and passing through he preached in all the cities, till he came to Caesarea. Acts 8:27-40

674 BC Taharqa defeats the Assyrian Emperor Sennacherib at Eltekeh.

Sennacherib then defeats Taharqa.

671 BC The Assyrian Emperor Esarhaddon captures Memphis with Taharqa fleeing to in the south, takes members of the royal family as prisoners at his capital Nineveh in Assyria and places Libyan Necho I as the first of the Twenty Sixth Dynasty at Sais.

Esarhaddon on his return to Assyria erects a Stele his Stele of Nahor el Kalb and his Victory Stele at Zincirle Hayok which shows Taharqa's son Ushankhuru taken as a prisoner by the Assyrians.

Esaehaddon dies in Palestine on the way to Egypt, his son Emperor Ashurbanipal defeats Taharqa who flees to the city of Thebes, where he dies in 664 BC and is buried in Nuri, North Sudan.

The Kingdom of Kush was centered at Napata in Nubia since the time of Alara who attacked Egypt, then Kashta who extended Kushite rule to Elephantine and Thebes in upper Egypt. His successor Taharqa's Dad, Piye, invaded and conquered Egypt.

Tefnakht of Sais forms a coalition with Kings of the Delta region, persuades Piye’s ally Nimlot King of the city of Hermopolis and Herakleopolis King Peftjauawybast.

Piye army invade middle and lower Egypt Thebes Opet fesitival detailed on his victory stele at Gabel Barkal found in the Amun temple.

Piye in retaliation then relieves Herakleopolis, conquers Hermopolis after five month siege, Delta Kings of Leontopolis and Tanis.

Taharqa was succeeded by a son of his predecessor, Shabaka, Tantamani who defeated and killed Necho, and also took Thebes, which the Assyrians then retook from him.

Meroe was ruled by Kandakes from Shanakdakhete in 177 BCE to Lahideamani in 314 CE. The Mereotic city MusawwaratesSufra on the island of Meroe in the modern day Butana region was named by the Achaenid Persian King Cambyses after his sister.

Alexander the great romance by Pseudo Callisthenes.

A stele Geez of a King of the Aksumites and the Omerites/Himyar found in Meroe also provides evidence of the presence of Aksum in Meroe from the 4th century Christian kingdoms of Nobatia, Makuria and Alodia.

February 25 July Hubert participates in the Industrial Workers of the World Paterson, New Jersey Silk Strike. Elizabeth Gurley Flynn is arrested on the first day of the strike for. William D. “Big Bill” Haywood helps to create create strike committee.

Patrick L. Quin.

Randolph marries Widow Mrs Lucille Campbell Green, Howard University graduate.

May Chief Alfred Charles Sam AkyemAbuakwa sells shares for his Akim Trading Company in Texas, Oklahoma.

June 7 The pageant of the Paterson Strike is performed at Madison Square Garden.

Garvey begins working for Dusé Mohamed Ali as messenger and handyman at his African Times and Orient Review office on 158 Fleet Street.

October Garveys “British West Indies in the Mirror of Civilization: History making by Colonial Negroes” essay is published in the African Times and Orient Review.

Garvey travels to Scotland.

Garvey granted month long readers pass to the British Museum library, where he reads Blyden’s “Christianity, Islam and the Negro Race” as well as Washington’s autobiography Up from Slavery.

6 new small schools in rural Alabama funded by Rosenwald as part of Washington's project are built and opened.

July 20 Garvey founds the Universal Negro Improvement Association at 12 Orange Street, Kingston and holds the first UNIA meeting.

August 4 Great Britain declare war on Germany.

August Garvey meets Amy Ashwood at the Queen Street Baptist Literary and Debating Society.

Ashwood secures the property at 20 Orange Street, Kingston with her Dad's money and with Garvey establishes it as the new location of the UNIA headquarters.

August Sam’s ship the S. S. Liberia, the German steamer, Curityba, sets sail for Gambia with sixty trained men and a cargo of lumber, cement, lime, flour, agricultural implements, and household goods.

September 4 Garvey writes to appeal to Washington for support and Washington invites him to visit.

October 31 Ashwood recites Paul Lawrence Dunbars “The Lover and the Moon” at Collegiate Hall UNIA meeting.

Tsar Nicholas II makes his October manifesto.

November 12 Garvey and UNIA delegates inspect Hope Farm.

The Russian army invade Germany.

Mckay moves to the U. S. and begins attending Washington’s Tuskegee Institute.

December Sam and immigrants arrive at their destination in Bathurst, Gambia (present day Banjul) and also travel to Freetown, Sierra Leone.

1914 After 10 years of construction, the first vessel passes through the 52 mile Panama Canal waterway, in the course of the American led construction, some 5, 000 workers, most of them West Indian, perished.

May 29 Garvey now visits the Colonial Office in London requesting financial assistance to return to Jamaica.

May 31 Prince Emmanuel Charles Edwards is born.

June 17 Garvey leaves England aboard the S. S. Trent to Jamaica.

June Garvey's article "The Evolution of Latter Day Slaves: Jamaica, A Country of Black and White," is published in the Tourist: A Literary and Anti Slavery Journal, published by the Anti Slavery Society in England.

July 20 The first meeting of the UNIA and ACL is held, along with the election of officers, in Kingston, Jamaica.

July 8 Garvey arrives in Jamaica.

August 4 Great Britain declares war on Germany.

August 15 The Panama Canal is officially opened to traffic. The majority of West Indian workers chose to remain in Panama despite deteriorating working conditions and oppressive discriminatory policies.

August 28 The Colonial Office communicates the West Indian desire to send a military contingent overseas; the War Office immediately rejects the offer on the grounds that black's are required for local defense purposes and to maintain order locally.

August In Antigua, Robert and James Brown return to the island from New York; the brothers become engaged in organising the Antiguan working class.

September 8 Garvey writes to letter Washington appealing for support.

December 14 British Arny Council informs the Colonial Office that it does not consider West Indian troops suitable for service in Egypt or West Africa and offers to accept a West Indian contingent to serve as a peacekeeping force in captured territories of West Africa, causing public anger in the West Indies.

1915 Sam and immigrants arrive at Saltpond on the Gold Coast present day Ghana.

Harrison publishes his own version of Rudyard Kipling’s poem “The White Man’s Burden.” entitled “The Black Man’s Burden.”

February Garvey wins first place in elocution contest at Collegiate Hall for his recital of “Catham on the American war of independence.”

April 12 Garvey writes to Bascungoth informing of his to America and requesting his assistance.

May 17 The UNIA Reading Room in Kingston is opened.

Du Bois publishes his “The Negro” book, his “The African Roots of the War” essay in the Atlantic Monthly and article numbering 2, 732 lynching’s from 1884 to 1914 in the Crisis as well as fights with the NAACP to band “The Birth of a Nation” film for its portrayal of black men.

Russia Tsar Nicholas assumes Commander in Chief.

September 8 Dr Leo Pink, Jamaican dentist writes letter to the Daily Chronicle requesting an accounting of UNIA funds.

October 11 Monday, 13 Wednesday and 15 Friday Du Bois’s “The Star of Ethiopia” pageant of the history of the Negro Race from 50,000 B.C to 20th century written, produced, and directed by Du Bois himself, presented by the Horizon Guild and the National Pageant and Dramatic Association is performed at the American League Ball Park in Washington D. C. to commemorate the 13th amendment.

October 15 Leonard Percival Howell witnesses the murder of his neighbor by her Husband, his parents refuse to let him testify as a witness, Howell travels to Panama.

November 15 Washington collapses in New York diagnosed with Brights disease dies of Hypertension.

November 22 Garvey delivers address on life and walk of the late Washington at special UNIA memorial meeting.

1916 February 29 Robert Russa Moton, newly appointed principle of Tuskegee Institute, on his visit to Jamaica, receives lengthy

March 7 Garvey departs from Jamaica to New York on the S. S. Tallac.

March 23 Garvey arrives in New York.

April issue of the Crisis magazine article covers the lynching of six in Lee County, Georgia.

April 25 Garvey heads to the NAACP offices at 25 695th Avenue in search of Du Bois.

Garvey visits the Tabernacle Church of Billy Sunday at Broadway and 168th Street.

May 9 Garvey holds his first public lecture in New York City at St Mark’s Church in-the-Bowery where he becomes overwhelmed whilst speaking and falls off the stage.

Garvey 38 state tour.

May 16, 18 and 20 8 P. M. Du Bois’s “The Star of Ethiopia” portrayed by 1010 Actors in Costume 53 Musical Numbers Full Brass Band is performed at the 100th General Conference of the African Methodist Episcopal Church held in the CONVENTION HALL BROAD AND ALLEGHANY AVENUE, Philadelphia. Lucien B. Watkins publishes his “The Star of Ethiopia” poem.

Meroe geographically was known to the Greeks as Ethiopia, according to the Greek historian Herodotus who lived during the 5th century BC Meroe had the reputation of being the mother city of the Ethiopians. Candice the Queen of Ethiopia has also been identified with the Kandake’s of the Kingdom of Kush whilst it was centered at the city of Meroe because of the King Taharqa the Kingdom of Kush whilst it was previously centered at Napata in Nubia prior to Meroe Taharqa in the bible is mentioned as being the King of Ethiopia having assisted Hezekiah King of Judah in conflict with the Assyrians. And when he heard say of Tirhakah king of Ethiopia, Behold, he is come out to fight against thee: he sent messengers again unto Hezekiah, saying, Thus shall ye speak to Hezekiah king of Judah, saying, Let not thy God in whom thou trustest deceive thee, saying, Jerusalem shall not be delivered into the hand of the king of Assyria. 2 Kings 19:9-10/Isaiah 37:9-10

Egyptian Pharaoh Taharqa's pyramid at Nuri.

And he arose and went: and, behold, a man of Ethiopia, an eunuch of great authority under Candace queen of the Ethiopians, who had the charge of all her treasure, and had come to Jerusalem for to worship,Was returning, and sitting in his chariot read Esaias the prophet.Then the Spirit said unto Philip, Go near, and join thyself to this chariot.And Philip ran thither to him, and heard him read the prophet Esaias, and said, Understandest thou what thou readest?And he said, How can I, except some man should guide me? And he desired Philip that he would come up and sit with him.The place of the scripture which he read was this, He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb dumb before his shearer, so opened he not his mouth:In his humiliation his judgment was taken away: and who shall declare his generation? for his life is taken from the earth.And the eunuch answered Philip, and said, I pray thee, of whom speaketh the prophet this? of himself, or of some other man?Then Philip opened his mouth, and began at the same scripture, and preached unto him Jesus. And as they went on their way, they came unto a certain water: and the eunuch said, See, here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized?And Philip said, If thou believest with all thine heart, thou mayest. And he answered and said, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. And he commanded the chariot to stand still: and they went down both into the water, both Philip and the eunuch; and he baptized him. And when they were come up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught away Philip, that the eunuch saw him no more: and he went on his way rejoicing.But Philip was found at Azotus: and passing through he preached in all the cities, till he came to Caesarea. Acts 8:27-40 674 BC Taharqa defeats the Assyrian Emperor Sennacherib at Eltekeh. Sennacherib then defeats Taharqa. 671 BC The Assyrian Emperor Esarhaddon captures Memphis with Taharqa fleeing to in the south, takes members of the royal family as prisoners at his capital Nineveh in Assyria and places Libyan Necho I as the first of the Twenty Sixth Dynasty at Sais. Esarhaddon on his return to Assyria erects a Stele his Stele of Nahor el Kalb and his Victory Stele at Zincirle Hayok which shows Taharqa's son Ushankhuru taken as a prisoner by the Assyrians. Esaehaddon dies in Palestine on the way to Egypt, his son Emperor Ashurbanipal defeats Taharqa who flees to the city of Thebes, where he dies in 664 BC and is buried in Nuri, North Sudan. The Kingdom of Kush was centered at Napata in Nubia since the time of Alara who attacked Egypt, then Kashta who extended Kushite rule to Elephantine and Thebes in upper Egypt. His successor Taharqa's Dad, Piye, invaded and conquered Egypt.

Pharaoh Piye's pyramid at El-Kurru.   

Tefnakht of Sais forms a coalition with Kings of the Delta region, persuades Piye’s ally Nimlot King of the city of Hermopolis and Herakleopolis King Peftjauawybast. Piye army invade middle and lower Egypt Thebes Opet fesitival detailed on his victory stele at Gabel Barkal found in the Amun temple. Piye in retaliation then relieves Herakleopolis, conquers Hermopolis after five month siege, Delta Kings of Leontopolis and Tanis. Taharqa was succeeded by a son of his predecessor, Shabaka, Tantamani who defeated and killed Necho, and also took Thebes, which the Assyrians then retook from him. Meroe was ruled by Kandakes from Shanakdakhete in 177 BCE to Lahideamani in 314 CE. The Mereotic city MusawwaratesSufra on the island of Meroe in the modern day Butana region was named by the Achaenid Persian King Cambyses after his sister. Alexander the great romance by Pseudo Callisthenes. A stele Geez of a King of the Aksumites and the Omerites/Himyar found in Meroe also provides evidence of the presence of Aksum in Meroe from the 4th century Christian kingdoms of Nobatia, Makuria and Alodia.

June issue of the Crisis in “Waco Horror” article covers the lynching of mentally impaired 17 year old Jesse Washington in Waco, Texas.

September 27 the day of the feast of Masqal, nobles, army, the Archbishop Abuna Mettewos, Etchage Walda Giyorgis and priests assemble at Palace disposing of Emperor Lij Iyasu of Ethiopia and proclaim Zawditu his aunty, Menelik’s daughter as Empress with her cousin DejazmatchTafari assuming the rank of Ras, Crown Prince and hier to the throne as well as Regent Plenipotentiary.

Randolph and Chandler Owen drop out of college and jointing the Socialist Party.

December Russia Grigori Rasputin murdered by Prince Yusopor.

1917 January Randolph and Owen publish the Headwaiters and Sidewaiters Society of Greater New York’s monthly magazine the Hotel Messenger.

January 30 The UUU is registered as a friendly society in Barbados.

Garvey's "West Indies in the Mirror of Truth," article is published in Chicago in the Champion Magazine.

February 11 Sunday Zewditu is anointed with the oil of kingship by Abuna Mettewos with Tafari previously Dejazmatch assuming the rank of Ras, Crown Prince, hier to the throne and Regent Plenipotentiary.

Garvey along with 13 others form the Harlem, New York branch of the UNIA becoming its first members.

Randolph who had stepped down from his stepladder in Harlem to let Garvey speak earlier in the year founds the Messenger monthly magazine with Owen, Randolph also becomes President and Executive Secretary of the Independent Political Council.

March 25 Garvey speak on “The Negroes of the West Indies, after 78 years of Emancipation.” With a general talk on the world position of the race.at the Big Bethel African Methodist Espicopal Church Corner Auburn Avenue and Butler Street in Georgia, Atlanta.

the handbill reads BIG MASS MEETING A CALL TO THE COLORED CITIZENS OF ATLANTA GEOGRIA To Hear the Great West Indian Negro Leader HON. MARCUS GARVEY President of the Universal Negro Improvement Association of Jamaica, West Indies. Big Bethel A.M.E. Church Corner Auburn Avenue and Butler Street SUNDAY AFTERNOON, AT 2 O’CLOCK MARCH 25, 1917 He brings a message of inspiration to the 12,000,000 of our people in this country. SUBJECT: “The Negroes of the West Indies, after 78 years of Emancipation.” With a general talk on the world position of the race. An orator of exceptional force, Professor Garvey has spoken to packed audience’s in England, New York, Boston, Washington, Philadelphia, Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Louis, Detroit, Cleveland, Cincinatti, Indianapolis, Louisville, Nashville and other cities. He has travelled to the principal countries of Europe, and was the first Negro to speak to the Veterans’ Club of London, England. This is the only chance to hear a great man who has taken his message before the world. COME OUT EARLY TO SECURE SEATS. It is worth travelling 1,000 miles to hear.

March Tsar Nicholas II resigns.

April 26 'Mayor Fred W. Moflman arrived in the city on a trip from St. Louis. In New Orleans he was met by Mayor Behrman and the New Orleans Board of Trade. For months the Farmers of Louisiana were frightened out of their wits over the everyday migration of Negroes from great farming centers of the State. They wrote to the papers, they appealed to the Governor, the Mayor and the Legislature and the Board of Trade to stop the Negroes going away, but up to the 26th of April nothing was done to stop the people excepting the Railway Companies promising to use certain restraint on the rush of people obtaining passages on the trains by Railway orders sent to them from the North. At this time Mayor Mollman arrived and the Farmers and Board of Trade met him and asked his help in discouraging the Negroes from going North and especially to East St. Louis. In an interview given out to the New Orleans press he said that the Negroes from the South were reaching St. Louis at the rate of 2,000 per week, and that they were creating a problem there. He said that some of the largest industries in the country were established in East St. Louis and there were strikes for the last few months. He believed the labor conditions in East St. Louis were responsible for the number of Negro laborers going to that city. When the strikes started, he said, United States District Judge Wright issued an injunction restraining the strikers from intimidating the laborers who took their places. This order prevented uprisings and riots. "Conditions are very bad in East St. Louis," he said, "because many plants are suffering for the want of labor. However, our city is growing and we have a population of 85,000 persons. During 1916 we gained 1,600 in population." His interview did not make pleasant reading for the Farmers and others interested in labor in New Orleans and Louisiana so that the very next day he appeared at the Board of Trade where he met the Farmers and others and in discussing the labor exodus with them, he promised that he would do all he could to discourage Negroes from Louisiana going into East St. Louis as the city did not want them. His interview on the first day was an encouragement to the Negroes to go to East St. Louis, as there was work for them, owing to the inability of the various plants to get labor. On the second day when he was approached he said East St. Louis did not want the Negroes, and he then promised to do all in his power to prevent them going there. His remarks to the people whom he met were published under big headlines in the News papers, so that the Negroes could read that they were not wanted in East St. Louis, but that did not deter the blackmen of Louisiana who were looking for better opportunities in the land of their birth going about the country looking for better conditions than the South offered with lynching and Jim Crowism. The Negroes still continued their migration North. The Mayor of East St. Louis returned to the city after making his promise to the Farmers, Board of Trade and others who were interested in Negro labor.'

April 27 Friday Mayor Mollman appeals before the Board of Trade where he makes his statement of promise

April Lenin returns to Russia from exile in Switzerland and later also flees to Finland.

The United States enter WWI.

May 4

May 5 The New Orleans Board of trade elects Mr. M. J. Sanders its president, and Mr. W. P. Ross as delegates to attend a transportation conference at St. Louis to be held on May 8-9.

May 8-9 The transportation conference is held at St. Louis at which several prominent men interested in the labor condition of the South were present as messrs.

May 28 East St. Louis. White employees of the Aluminium Ore Company vote for labor strike, the Company employ hundreds of blacks, 3, 000 white men begin rioting.

Crowds of white men after leaving the city council stopped street cars and dragged Negroes off and beat them.

May 29 Night 3 Negroes and 2 white men are shot. An investigation of the affair resulted in the finding that labor agents had induced Negroes to come from the South.

Governor Frank Orren Lowden summonds the National Guard subdue to riot.

'One thing I do no[w?] know; the first riot started on May 28 after a conference of labor leaders with Mayor Mollman. On that day, May 28, crowds of white men after leaving the City Council stopped street cars and dragged Negroes off and beat them. Then the night following three Negroes and two white men were shot. An investigation of the affair resulted in the finding that labor agents had induced Negroes to come from the South. I can hardly see the relevance of such a report with the dragging of men from cars and shooting them. The City authorities did nothing to demonstrate to the unreasonable labor leaders that they would be firmly dealt with should they maltreat and kill black men. No threat was offered to these men because Mayor Mollman himself had promised to do all he could to drive the Negroes out of East St. Louis, and to instill fear in the hearts of the people in the South so as to prevent them coming North. On the 29th of May, a day after the first disturbance, and when three Negro men had been killed, Mayor Mollman sent a dispatch to Governor Pleasant of Louisiana advising the Negroes of Louisiana to remain away from East St. Louis. This news item from the "Call" of May 31 which I will read will speak for itself.

May Garvey returns to New York from his speaking tour.

Harrison founds the Liberty League and Voice newspaper.

June 12 Harrison and Garvey speak at Harrisons Liberty League of Negro Americans meeting to petition the government again lynchings and disenfranchisement at the African Methodist Espicopa lBethal Church on 52-60 West 132ND.

The handbill which also details Chandler Owen as one of the speakers reads STOP LYNCHING AND DISFRANCHISEMENT IN THE LAND WHICH WE LOVE AND MAKE THE SOUTH “SAFE FOR DEMOCRACY” A Mass Meeting OF COLORED CITIZENS WILL BE HELD AT BETHEL CHURCH, 52-60 West 132ND Street On TUESDAY, JUNE 12th, at 8 P. M. UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE LIBERTY LEAGUE of Negro-Americans To take steps to uproot these two evils and “to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” IF YOU BELIEVE IN NEGRO MANHOOD IF YOU BELIEVE IN NEGRO WOMANHOOD IF YOU LOVE YOUR COUNTRY IF YOU LOVE YOUR RACE The meeting will be addressed by MR. HUBERT H. HARRISON MR. CHANDLER OWENS REV. DR. CLAYTON POWELL other prominent ministers and laymen.

June 15 The United States congress pass the Espionage Act of 1917.

July Race riot in East Saint Louis, Illinois, on the east bank of the Mississippi River across from St. Louis, Missouri.

The East St. Louis Riot, or rather massacre, of Monday [July] 2nd, will go down in history as one of the bloodiest outrages against mankind for which any class of people could be held guilty. (Hear! hear.) This is no time for fine words, but a time to lift one's voice against the savagery of a people who claim to be the dispensers of democracy. (cheers) I do not know what special meaning the people who slaughtered the Negroes of East. St. Louis have for democracy of which they are the custodians, but I do know that it has no literal meaning for me as used and applied by these same lawless people. (hear! hear!). America, that has been ringing the bells of the world, proclaiming to the nations and the peoples thereof that she has democracy to give to all and sundry, America that has denounced Germany for the deportations of the Belgians into Germany, America that has arraigned Turkey at the bar of public opinion and public justice against the massacres of the Armenians, has herself no satisfaction to give 12,000,000 of her own citizens except the satisfaction of a farcical inquiry that will end where it begun, over the brutal murder of men, women and children for no other reason than that they are black people seeking an industrial chance in a country that they have laboured for three hundred years to make great. (cheers)'. Garvey “The conspiracy of the East St. Louis Riots” July 8.

White men in a Ford drive by and fire shots at blacks, an hour later a journalist and two police men also drive by in a Ford, blacks open fire on car killing one officer, thousand of whites begin rioting.

An example of what the guardsmen encountered, and themselves enjoyed, was the beating of colored women by white girls. This sort of thing was common. It resulted in the death of several Negro women. Six girls, according to the report pursued a colored girl around the main railway station. A mob formed behind the girls who were screaming frantic epithets at the terrified black girl. "Send them back to Africa." "Kill them all." "Lynch them," shouted the young amazons. Suddenly the crowd swept from the trail of the girl. A yell then arose. "There is one." It was a Negro walking on the railroad track. Before he realized his peril he was killed. Half a dozen pistols cracked and the man dropped without a chance to run. (groans) Two white girls, neither more than 17 years old, the report said, were cheered when they dragged a colored girl from a street car, removed her slippers and beat senseless with the sharp wooden heels. Some reports said black women were stripped by white women for the amusement of the crowd. (Cries of shame!). Garvey “The conspiracy of the East St. Louis Riots” July 8.

The National Guard do nothing.

Congressional Investigating Committee reports 39 blacks and 9 whites dead, although more accurately hundreds more are believed to have died, 6 thousand blacks are left homeless after their neighborhood burned.

The NAACP reports 100-200 deaths. Ida B Wells reports in the Chicago Defender 40-150 dead.

The Southern Railway Company warehouse is burned with 100 car loads of merchandise leaving them at an estimated loss of $525, 000. White owned theatre $100, 000 as well as 44 freight cars and 312 houses, with a concluded estimate of $400, 000 property damage.

July 4 The Anti Slavery and Aborigines Protection Society demands that the postwar reconstruction of Africa recognize the interests and wishes of the native inhabitants; the resolution is forwarded to the representatives of the Allied and Neutral powers.

July 8 Garvey makes his “The conspiracy of the East St. Louis Riots” speech at Lafayette Hall in Harlem, this speech is also printed and distributed in pamphlet form.

July 28 Du Bois and NAACP organise and lead the “Silent March” of 10,000 Negro New Yorkers down Fifth Avenue to protest the East St. Louis race riot, Du Bois travels to St. Louis to report on the riots and receives commission in army.

July Public debate intensifies in the West Indies regarding the denial if military commissions due to color prejudice, increasing apathy and resistance to military recruitment in the region.

August 3 The Committee on Rules and House of Representatives 65th Congress issue hearing for the riots at St. Clair Country court, 10 white defendants and 24 others, Dentist Dr.LeRoy Bundy is charged with inciting riot.

August 10 Lenin arrives at Helsinki where he hides away in safe houses belonging to Bolshevik sympathisers.

September Du Bois in the Crisis publishes his “The Massacre of East St. Louis" article.

September Army Order #1/1918 institutes a 50℅ pay increase throughout the British Army, but excludes members of the BWIR.

October 16 Lenin returns to Russia.

November 2 The British cabinet issues the Balfour Declaration, supporting the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine.

November 6 (October 24th/25th) Bolshevik Marxist majority of the Russian Social Democratic Party founded by Lenin seize power in Petrograd.

December In British Guiana, Hubert Crichlow leads a campaign for a general wage increase.

[remainloved]

Rivarly - Ethan Dolan (Part 2)

Summary: In movies, books and stories, captains fell in. The captain of the soccer team and the head of the cheering team will always make the perfect couple. However, what if these two captains despise each other?

Warning: none?

Word Count: 1.2k+

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

Part 1

Ugh… Just because I’m the cheer captain doesn’t make me all happy and go lucky kind of person to go to school. I mean, who’s happy about going on to school this early in the morning especially on Monday. This is absurd.

The way high school stories portray cheer captain irritates me sometimes. No, I don’t wear the cheer uniforms all the time. No, I don’t always wear skimpy and all pink clothes to school. No, I never picked on someone who’s ‘under’ the social status. No, I never eat only salad as my meal. Lastly, never have I ever dated the football team captain.

Ethan Dolan. His challenge. It wasn’t really on was it? I mean, I did not even give him an answer. It’s not yet official.

--

“Y/n! Would you like to answer the question?” Mr. Sharman, our Physics teacher asked.

No, I would not like to answer the question. Obviously.

“I’m sorry Sir, but could you please repeat the question?” I asked honestly, knowing that I spaced out in the middle of the class. The boys sitting behind the class snickered. Mr. Sharman was about to reply when, “The Siphon will fail to work if the level of the liquid in the two vessels are at the same height.” Ethan cut him off.

What even is a Siphon?

See, I told you he aces in academics as well. Everyone was shocked when he helped me with no snarky comments being followed. Normally, he would laughed and teased me for not knowing the answer. Then he would answer the question confidently and got it right. It was annoying.

I turned around to look at him and he stared back, smiling then he winked.  I see, he’s playing it already right now. Everyone in class was cooing and I even saw a girl beside me grinning ear to ear, whispering softly, “My ship is rising.”

“Very well, Ethan.” Mr. Sharman complimented him. Ethan has always been his favorite student as he aces this class with such ease. After he complimented him, the bell rang, indicating that we are dismissed.

Finally.

Everyone packed his or her bags and rushed outside. I was about to step outside when Mr. Sharman called my name. “Y/n, would you stay back for a moment?” I turned around and nodded.

“You’ve been slacking off a bit in Physics. Do you mind if I would give you a tutor?” Mr. Sharman asked with his eyes glinting with mischief. I nodded my head and he said, “I think Ethan Dolan would do. He’s good in Physics and I believe you guys are in good terms seeing that he often helped answering questions for you.”

I was in utter disbelief. “Hey, there princess, looks like we’re going to spend more time together.” Ethan was standing at the doorway smirking at me.

--

“Mom, Ethan’s coming tonight to tutor me Physics!” I called my mom as she’s away at Maldives for her company meeting or something like that.

“Ethan Dolan? ETHAN DOLAN?!” She shrieked. She knows that I absolutely despise Ethan. “Will my house be unharmed?” She answered teasingly.

“Mom! You care more about the house than your own child.” I said through the phone and she chuckled. “I know that’s why I’m enjoying this so much,” she chucked. “I have to go honey, tell me soon how it goes, okay?” She replied and hung up.

I was in my loose sweatpants and white t-shirt and hair all tied up in a messy bun that is nowhere looking as good as the ones on the internet when the doorbell rings. Ugh… he’s finally here.

I opened up the door and he’s there. He’s wearing his white hoodie and carrying his school bag with him. “Hey, princess. Eager to see me, huh?” he greeted. I raised my eyebrow, daring him to say more, knowing that without any second thought I’ll kick him out. He chuckled and I opened my door wider for him to come in.

We sat down around the living room. He started explaining the Newton’s Law of Motion. I understood the first and second. I lost it when it reached the third. “Y/L/N, how could you not understand? It’s the easiest among all the other laws.” Ethan grumbled. “Physics is just not my strongest suit, it’s just like how Biology is to you.” I answered back.

He looked at me and smiled, “You paid attention to me, not bad princess.” I grunted, “Can we take a break? I have enough of this stupid thing already.”

“Anything for the princess.” He chuckled. He continued “At least, the both of us are good in Chemistry. Although you lose to me in that subject as well.” He said grinning.

“I’m pretty sure I’m a kick-ass in Chem. How would you know that I lose to you in that subject, Dolan?” I replied back sassily.

“We have chemistry together, princess.” He smirked animatedly white using his index finger pointing towards him and me.

My eyebrows furrowed together in disgust. I was about to say something else when the doorbell rings again. Finally, my beautiful pizzas. “Don’t touch anything, Dolan.” I sighed and got up to open the door. I handed the delivery man the money and brought it back inside.

“Wow, pizzas? Y/L/N, you sure are the girl of my dreams.” He said in a dramatic tone. I rolled my eyes and opened the box. I smiled and started eating. Ethan, on the other hand was just looking at me with his eyes wide opened.

“What, never saw pizza before?” I asked him incredulously.

“THERE’S NO PINEAPPLE ON IT!” He screamed. I laughed at his face that was red and it was hilarious.

“Pineapple on pizza is just weird. That’s not supposed to be even legal.” I answered calmly knowing that it’ll just tick him of even more. He groaned acting annoyed yet he took one slice of the pizza.

“Y/L/N, you’re not even giving an effort to this challenge.” He said softly looking up to me. The atmosphere shifted from being light into something tense.

“Are we really doing it? It’s not possible.” I answered softly as well.

“It’s possible.” Ethan stood up, walking up closer to me.

“What will the winner get?” I asked him challengingly.

“The freedom and rights to brag. Simple.” Ethan stopped and bent lower to have the same eye level contact. “Don’t tell me you’re really scared princess.” He taunted.

I took a deep breath and looked at him straight into his eyes and answered, “You’re on Dolan.” With your smirk growing wider and wider. His eyes flickered to your lips for a mere second and looked away.

“Okay, then we should set some ground rules.” Ethan suggested. “I agree.” I nodded my head in agreement.  

“We should start by dating.” Ethan answered. I looked up to him and smirked. “Eager to have a date with me, Dolan?” He shook his head and chuckled.

“If we’re gonna date, you have to ask me out first.” I said smugly. He looked at me with his eyebrows raised and nodded his head, “Fair enough.”

“While we’re ‘dating’ you should not have any relationship with anyone.” I stated. “That goes to you as well, Y/L/N.” He said and I nodded my head.

“No one should know that this is a bet.” He said seriously, I looked at him confused. “There’s no fun in it if everyone knows this is just a game.” He answered and I nodded my head. “Okay.”

“How long are we going to do this?” I asked him, wishing that there will be a time limit. At least, I won’t have to deal with him anymore longer.

“Until one of us fall and admitted.” He answered and smirked.

ps: okay, this is not edited and i’m so sorry for any errors...i’ll try fixing them soon. this story is getting plain and i’m sorry for that... i’ll try making it up for part 3, i guess..

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please somebody be my friend... :)

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro Part 27/? - The Lost Relic Part 28/? - The Homunculinus Part 29/? - The End is Near Part 30/? - The Face of Evil Part 31/? - The Morning After Part 32/? - Next Stop Part 33/? - A Sighting in Messina Part 34/? - Taormina Part 35/? - Burning Part 36/? - Recovery Part 37/? - Pilgrimage to Vesuvius Part 38/? - The Scent of Hell Part 39/? - She’ll be Coming Down the Mountain Part 40/? - Stowaways Part 41/? - Bon Voyage Part 42/? - Turnabout Part 43/? - The Apple Part 44/? - Vesuvius Wakes Part 45/? - Fire At Sea Part 46/? - The Real Jim

This is totally plot-irrelevant but I wrote it mostly to distract myself.

The radio crackled. The Scorpio II must have sent out some kind of call about the fire and now other ships were on their way to help take care of it.  A voice came over the radio, in French, asking who was still on board and what they thought they were doing.  Natasha reached over and turned it off.

“Somebody put the fire out,” she said.  “I’m gonna look for Jim.”

She hurried back out onto the deck.  As she did, something whizzed over her head – she didn’t need to look up to see what it was. The arrow impacted at the top of the burning panels and smokestack, and the cold fog of the liquid nitrogen hissed out. Another followed a moment later, then a third, and soon all the fires were out.  The nitrogen not only cooled the burning wood and plastic, it smothered it, taking away the oxygen it needed to burn.

Clint was probably thrilled he’d gotten to use them after all, Nat thought with a small smile.

She went down the steps from the Stargazer deck to the Lido, where the pool was now empty with towels draped over the deck chairs and abandoned drinks sitting on the tables. There was nobody in evidence.  She was about to move on, when she heard a thumb behind one of the bars.  Nat paused and looked back, and a moment later, Jim emerged.  His hair was falling down around his face, but he was still wearing his tuxedo, with the bow tie neatly tied.

“What happened?” asked Natasha.

“Nothing,” said Jim.

“Something happened,” she pointed out.  “Where have you been?”

“I slipped,” he said.

Nat knew this wasn’t going anywhere good, and was not at all surprised when she heard a glass break behind the bar.  A hand grabbed the edge of the counter, and a head appeared, with the other hand rubbing a patch of scalp.  This individual was also in a tux, although his jacket was off and his bow tie was hanging loose around his neck.  His white shirt was stained with red wine.

It was, of course, also Jim.

“Shit!”  The tidy Jim grabbed Nat’s arm.  “I thought I got him.”

The disheveled Jim behind the bar looked up, and his eyes went wide.  “Natalie!”

She swallowed – she’d known this was coming, but that didn’t mean she had any idea what to do about it.  The last time this had happened, it had been her who’d been duplicated by a shapeshifting goblin. She’d managed to send a sign to Sharon that she was the real one… would Jim be smart enough to do the same?

He didn’t have time. The one behind the bar ran out, reaching for her.  Nat leaned on the one holding her arm and kicked the messy one in the chest, then somersaulted over the back of the tidy one and went to throw him into the water – then forced herself to stop.  She couldn’t throw either of these guys off the ship until she knew which one of them was their Jim.

She landed on her feet with the tidy Jim sitting dazed on the deck in front of her.  A moment later, messy-Jim tried to tackle them both.  Nat sprang up onto the railing, lost her balance, and fell over the side of the ship herself.

“Natalie!” both of them cried in unison.

Nat dropped only a few feet, then managed to grab one of the ropes used to lower the lifeboats. Although the ship was moving, they were not up to speed yet and not clear of the cluster of boats – people in the nearest one saw her dangling, and cried out.  Somebody turned the boat around to approach the towering Scorpio II.

“Jump, sweetheart!” Natasha heard a man holler.  She glanced down and saw, by the light of the emergency beacon on the lifeboat, a crew member standing and waving to her.  “Let go!  We’ll pull you on board!”

But Nat wasn’t going to do any such thing.  She got her feet onto the pulley hook, which provided a fairly stable place to stand, and looked up.  The two Jims were struggling on the deck above, each trying to toss the other overboard.

She started to climb.

What was she going to do when she got there?  How could she figure out which Jim was the real one, insofar as any version of Jim could be considered ‘real’?  The part of her that remembered the Red Room, the part that had been brought up to show no mercy because she knew she would receive none, thought the easiest thing to do would be to kill them both.  They would both end the same, piles of dust on the deck, and Newton wouldn’t be able to try the same trick with another homunculus in the future.  But the version of herself that Nat had been cultivating for the past few years, the one that tried to at least imitate human warmth, knew she couldn’t do that. Not to Jim, whose whole self was centered on wanting to live just as long as he could.

She wanted to think that the one behind the counter, with the wine on his shirt, was ‘her’ Jim – but was he, or was that just her urge to root for the underdog?  They’d been wrong when they’d guessed that Newton really was on the ship.  They couldn’t afford to be wrong again.

When she climbed back over the railing, she found the two Jims still grappling, having knocked over a couple of deck chairs.  Which was which?  How was she supposed to know.

The tidy one, with his tie and jacket still on, looked up.  “You’re all right!” he said.

The messy one punched him in the face.  He staggered backwards and fell into a chair, and Nat realized that the messy one had been aiming for the throat.  That one knew where the weak spot was… did that mean messy-Jim really was the fake?  Jim himself also had that information, though.  Would he use it against another homunculus?

Tidy-Jim picked himself up out of the chair and picked it up to throw it at the other.  Nat had to intervene before one of them took the decision out of her hands by killing the other.  She hauled the ropes up and grabbed the heavy pulley, winding up to swing it like a weapon, but at which Jim?  She couldn’t afford to be wrong and she would only have one guess.

It came to her.

“Hey!  Jim!” she shouted, twirling the pulley like a lariat.

They both looked up at her.

“Which hand?” she demanded.

“What?” asked messy-Jim. He looked down at his right hand, then at his left.

Tidy-Jim looked confused, too, but then his face lit up.  “Right!” he said.

“Left!” Messy-Jim guessed, apparently figuring whichever one the other guessed must be wrong.

Nat turned to messy-Jim and smiled.  He smiled back and stepped towards her, and she swung the pulley at him.  With it on the end to carry the inertia, the rope wrapped itself around his neck, and she yanked.  He gurgled, clawing at it with both hands.  Nat grabbed him around the neck and squeezed by the bone, and he dissolved into dust.

Tidy-Jim was less tidy now, as he picked himself up.  His jacket was torn, and his hair was askew.  “It was right,” he repeated, panting.  “That was the hand I had to heal after he burned it off.”

Nat could have cried – she’d guessed correctly.  “Yes!” she said, and went to help him stand.

Jim let her take his arm, but insisted upon supporting himself on a table instead of on her as he got to his feet.  “Why the hell did you have to scare me like that?” he asked.

“Because I figured you’d think I must be the evil one!” Jim said.  “It’s always the evil one who hits the other on the head and takes his place!”

“I would have asked,” Natasha said.  “You know – like I just did!”

“I didn’t know!  I didn’t know if you’d have any way to tell!” As soon as he had his balance, Jim pulled her in for a hug.

Nat was startled, and with adrenaline still coursing through her, it was an effort not to throw him into the swimming pool.  Only once she had a handle on that could she put her arms around him and hug him back.

“How many more of them are there?” she asked.  She would have to stay close to him, to make sure this didn’t happen again.

“Madame Desrosiers mentioned four, I think,” said Jim.  “Sir Steve threw one overboard…”

“No ticket,” Natasha greed.  “Newton dusted one to prove he wouldn’t make any more, and we just did for the third one. That means there’s one more.”

“No, there’s two more,” said Jim.  “I mean… there’s me.”

“Yeah, but you just pointed out you’re not the evil one,” said Natasha.  She gave him a gentle squeeze, and then stepped back to look him over.  “We’re not going to get rid of you.  You said you wanted to live.  You hurt at all?”

“I apparently don’t get hurt, remember?” he asked.

“Right.”  That was a relief.  “Okay.  Good.”

They returned to the bridge, where they others were relieved to see that both were okay. They’d turned the ship’s lights off, to make it more difficult for other vessels and the coast guard to keep track of them as they headed east, returning to Naples.  Under other circumstances, it might have made it harder for them to navigate, too – but on this particular night, there was no mistake about which way they had to go.  The glow of Vesuvius on the horizon was a beacon for them.  Little by little, the lifeboats and the other ships that had come to rescue the passengers dropped out of sight behind them.

As midnight approached, Nat and Sharon headed down to one of the bars and returned to distribute sodas to everybody.  Most of the men thanked them for this, as did Desrosiers.  The only dissenter was Clint.

“No beer?” he asked.

“You’re driving the boat,” Natasha told him.

“We’re in the middle of the ocean,” he pointed out.  “What am I gonna run into?”

“I’m sure you’d find something.”  Nat sat down on the edge of a control panel and opened a can of sparkling lemonade.

Allen looked at the can she’d given him, and licked his lips.  “This is stealing isn’t it?” he asked.

“We just stole an entire cruise ship, and you’re worried about a soda?” asked Nat.

“The soda is something I can conceptualize,” Allen said.  “I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the idea of stealing a cruise ship.”

“We commandeered it,” said Clint.  “Saving the world, remember?  You know, I’m pretty sure there’s a jewelry shop on one of the lower decks, by that plaza,” he added thoughtfully.

“You gonna commandeer some diamonds?” asked Sam.  “That’d surprise your wife, all right.”

“We’re not commandeering anything that isn’t essential to stopping Newton,” Nat said firmly.  She was almost certain Clint wouldn’t try it, but she wanted to nip the idea in the bud just in case.  “If anybody tries otherwise, Sharon will arrest them.”

“Uh, no, I don’t have any jurisdiction outside of Scotland,” Sharon reminded her.  “That’s why I didn’t even try to arrest Newton in Athens, remember?”

“Are sodas essential?” asked Jim.

“Yes,” said Nat.

“How so?” he wanted to know.

“I’m thirsty,” she replied, and tipped the can back to drink.