#stealing postal letters

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"THREE-YEAR TERM FOR YOUTH WHO STOLE LETTERS," Toronto Star. October 15, 1912. Page 1 & 6. ---- Judge Denton Gave William Albon the Smallest Sentence Possible. --- SENTENCE DAY IN THE SESSIONS ---- Italian Who Used Razor on Fellow-Countryman Also Given Three Years. --- SOME WERE LET OFF --- Verney Pennoch Was Given Four Months for Burglary - Many Were Disposed Of. ---

Wm. Albon, theft, 3 years.

Dominic Rosso, wounding, 3 years.

Wm. J. Cottrell, perjury, 6 months.

John Gowans, assault, 6 months.

Verney Pennoch, burglar, 4 months.

Joseph Davis, assault, 3 months.

Arthur Scholes, housebreaking, 3 months.

Charles Hall, assault, $50 fine or 1 months.

Frank McCarron, theft, 30 days.

Wilfrid Walcyn, theft, suspended sentence.

David Applebaum, theft, suspended sentence.

Abraham Manhan, theft, suspended sentence.

David Reece, theft, suspended sentence.

Joseph Re, theft, suspended sentence.

John J. Foley, theft, suspended sentence.

Ernest McRae, theft, suspended sentence.

Clinton Shaw, theft, suspended sentence.

Thomas A. Bruce, theft, suspended sentence.

"These people have got to learn that they must keep their razors off other people's throats."

With this remark Judge Denton this morning sentenced Dominic Rosso, an Italian, [[pictured, top] charged with wounding with intent, to spend three years in Kingston Penitentiary. Rosso was the first of about thirty persons, found guilty in the Sessions and in sittings of the County Criminal Court, to come up for sentence.

"I hope the sentence will be a warning to his fellow countrymen."

John Gowans goes to the Central Prison for six months for a serious offence. 'I am told that he is feeble-minded," pleaded T. C. Robinette, K.C., but Judge Denton declared that his long record was against him. He served two years in 1899, terms for theft in 1894-97-99, and one this year. [Gowans would later be sentenced to the penitentiary in 1918...]

Harry Rollings, also up on a serious offence, was remanded for sentence. His Honor wanted to enquire into his case further.

Long Term for Theft. On two charges of the theft of registered letters, William Albon, a clean-cut, looking young man, was given three years in Kingston Penitentiary - the least possible under the code. It is said that the young fellow, who was employed as a clerk in the post office, received only about $4 in money.

Verney Pennock, convicted of burglary and assault, was sent down for four months. He broke into Alexander Cameron's livery stable on Keele street and stole five books of Exhibition tickets.

Sentence was suspended for two weeks in the case of David W. Ross and Morley Wilson, charged with taking W. E. Radcliffe's automobile from In front of the Grand Union Hotel. The young men, who were somewhat the worse for liquor, went for a "joy ride," which ended at an early hour in the morning. The motor car was damaged to the extent of $60. Mr. Robinette pleaded for leniency on the score of youth and good character, specially in the case of Wilson.

Three Months For Theft. "He pays too much attention to athletics and has not been well. The trouble is that he is overstrained," was the plea of T. C. Robinette in the case of Arthur Scholes, champion mile runner of Canada, and who came third at the Ward Marathon games last Saturday. He had pleaded guilty to the theft of two diamond rings from No. 190 Garden avenue, where he had gone to do papering.

"The man who was with me told me that the rings were lying there. First I said not to take them, and then I picked them up on the impulse of the moment as we were leaving. I gave one to him, and gave the other to a friend."

"A woman friend?" asked his Honor. "Yes."

The young man's father and mother both pleaded hard.

"What happened to the other man?" was asked. "He turned King's evidence."

"I can't afford to let you go," said his Honor, "you will spend three months in jail."

A fine of $50 and costs or two months in jall was the sentence given Charles Hall for assaulting Evelyn Ferris.

His Honor started to read a list of previous convictions when Hall declared: "You must have me mixed up with somebody else. I didn't do those things."

"That must be another case," suggested Crown Attorney Greer. "Why don't they do things right in the Police Court?" said his Honor with some heat, then turning to the prisoner he asked: "What terms have you served?"

"I was in jail once for six months and once for eight months."

"Both for assault?"

"No, just one of them."

Six Months For Perjury. William J. Cottrell, found guilty of perjury in a damage suit against the Toronto Railway Company, stood up quite calmly to receive sentence. He was chewing gum. He wanted to call witnesses to testify to his good character.

"You are found guilty on a very serious charge," said Judge Denton, "Perjury is one of the worst of crimes, and

"I could send you to the penitentiary for a very long time. You probably didn't realize what you were doing."

"It was all a mistake your Worship." broke in the prisoner eagerly.

"The evidence showed it was much more than a mistake. You probably, when you found yourself in that suit against the street railway, thought that you could win by stretching your statements a little. I have spoken to a number of people about you and they all speak highly of your character."

"If your Worship will let me go on suspended sentence I promise" interrupted Cottrell.

"I cannot do that" said the judge gravely. "You will be sent to the Central Prison for six months."

Was Allowed to Go. Wilfrid B. Watclyn, guilty of the theft of an automobile from the Shaw Overland Sales Company was allowed to go on suspended sentence. "He is making reparation," his Honor was told.

George Westman was remanded for sentence on the charge against him of stealing oil waste from the Simpson Wool and Knitting Company. Mr. Greer was told to investigate his story.

Three months was the sentence meted out to Joseph Davis, convicted of a serious offence. The girl, who was his second cousin, was feeble-minded. Davis' reputation in the past was excellent, and Judge Denton was lenient.

Rev. J. D. Morrow bore testimony to the good character of Albert Copley. convicted of hitting Walter Dwyer over the head after having consumed several bottles of beer. "I have every hope of reforming him," said the athletic parson. "He is a member of my church." The judge remanded him for two weeks for sentence.

G. B. Cates, for false pretences, was remanded for two weeks. He sold $210 worth of stock to Mrs. G. B. Thomas in the Artificial Ice and Distilled Water Company, a concern which was not in existence, and was given a chance to make good to Mrs. Thomas. Because Julius Bachrack is away on business, he and his brother, Emanuel, will come up again for sentence for conspiring to procure an illegal operation, in two weeks, as will David W. Ross and Morley Wilson, theft. The cases of Estella Smith, theft; Norman Tansley, indecent assault; F. A. Mansell, false pretences, were all stood over.

Remanded For Sentence. Harol Harold McKee, convicted of obtaining money under false pretences from his employers was remanded for sentence till the December Sessions. He was anxious to make restitution and was gradually doing so out of his wages.

The same treatment was accorded to Arthur Doyle, convicted of criminal negligence, who took a motor-car from in front of Shea's Theatre last July, and went for a joy ride. His sentence will depend on the efforts he makes to make good the damage.

Sixty days is the sentence on Frank McCarron for horse stealing. He hired a horse and later, together with another man, sold it. "It's cost me $200 now. I got all the blame, while the other man was discharged," exclaimed the prisoner, but he was sent down, nevertheless.

David Applebaum, Abraham Manhan, David Reece, ranging in ages from 16 to 20 years, employed at Hanlan's Point, where they stole amounts of from 70 cents to $10, were allowed to go on suspended sentence. Joseph Re, who got two $5 instead of one in making a sale also had sentence suspended.

Clinton Shaw and Ernest McRae, found guilty of stealing solder from J. C. McFadden, were allowed to go on suspended sentence. Both are of youthful appearance.

[AL: Albon was 17, born in Toronto, a first time offender, and was convict #F-485 at Kingston Penitentiary. He worked as a clerical assistant in a workshop, had no reports against him for breaking the prison rules, and was paroled in late 1913. Rosso was 29, born in Italy, a labourer on the docks, and had never been in the penitentiary before - he was convict #F-486 and worked in the quarry. He had no reports and was released in early 1915.]

[phoward89]

Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️: Coryo is his own warning in and of himself. Delusional!Coryo, Soft!Dark!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Coryo, Reader has some survival instincts, Reader knows keeping Coryo happy keeps her alive and well, cussing, possession, obsession, slight manipulation, threats of harm, threats of rape, threats of violation, choking, murder threats

Chapter 7:

Coriolanus has been on Peacekeeper duty for the last 3 days. It sucks because Sejanus isn't with him. Instead he's doing his medic training at the infirmary with the Matron, leaving Coriolanus to do street patrols on his own.

But today he's on watch duty at the Peacekeeper Uniform Factory. His partner’s some grunt he’s barely even talked to. Honestly, he doesn't care to get to know the grunt since he's not sticking around much longer.

Coriolanus is taking his Elite Officer's Exam tomorrow; he knows he'll pass with flying colors. He can't wait to get you out of 8, to be able to claim you as his wife on legal documents and paperwork. Coriolanus sent a letter to Pluribus Bell about your father and one to Strabo Plinth as well, so he's hoping to receive some responses with some advice on how to move forward with inquiring about the asset law of Colonel Javanis Halvir for you.

Coriolanus grappled with the idea of writing to Dr. Gaul, but then decided against it. The woman, after all, was a bit crazy and had planned on killing all of the leftover tributes in the arena with her rainbow snakes; if he didn't cheat then there wouldn't have been a victor for the 10th Hunger Games. So, he decided not to contact Dr. Gaul. God forbid the woman wants you to return to the Capitol, to be rescued from your abandonment in the Districts for so long.

Yea…

Coriolanus isn't giving you up for anything. You're his wife; that makes you his responsibility. He's your protector since you're now Mrs. Snow. That gives him power; no one's going to take that away from him.

Coriolanus is dressed in his denim fatigues, his lanky frame leaning against the concrete wall as he keeps an eye on the women and teenagers that're working the loom machines. His icy blue eyes have been staring a hole into your once sister-in-law’s head, but that's mostly because she keeps giving him nasty looks. But that's fine with him; not like he cares what she thinks about him anyways.

In fact he hates Ashlie for abandoning you in a strange place; for being the cause of you to stoop down so low to stealing- to getting punished by the lash.

Yes!

Coryo has the audacity to shoulder the entire blame of your whipping onto your once sister-in-law. He refuses to take responsibility for it. He ‘loves’ you (more like he's head over heels obsessed with you) and refuses to believe that his greed and overwhelming need to impress his superiors hurt you in any way.

Plus you love him and married him. If he hurt you why would you have done that?

Yea…

Private Snow’s thick skull doesn't grasp that you latched onto him for pure survival- got somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome going on with him. Can't bite the hand that feeds you, eh?

Eh…Coriolanus feels like he's in for a long day. It's not even noon yet and he's already ready to take a break. And he can't help, but to wonder how your day’s going so far.

Ah, to be young, in love, and a newlywed.

You're making yourself a simple sandwich for lunch whenever a knock sounds at your door. You're not expecting anybody, so you're a little taken aback. Your husband's at work until the evening and you don't really have any friends in 8.

So, tentatively, you approach the door and open it. Standing before you is a postal worker, but not just any postal worker- one with a Peacekeeper postal uniform on. On the ground by their feet’s a large wooden crate.

What the?...

“I have a delivery for a Coriolanus Snow and a Y/N Snow? Are one of them present to sign for the package?” The postal worker asks, holding a clipboard with an attached pen.

You simply answer the postal worker with, “I'm Y/N Snow.”

Without a word, the Peacekeeper postal worker hands you the clipboard; which you take and sign your name on in the required spot before handing it back.

“Have a nice day, Ma’am.” The postal worker tips their hat at you before walking down the hall; leaving you alone with the crate.

You picked up the crate, which wasn't too heavy, and brought it into the house. Once you set it down, you read the return label. The name on it was The Plinths. You quickly realized that Sejanus' family sent Coriolanus something. You knew that they're friends from the Academy in the Capitol that joined the Peacekeepers together.

Well, it's nice that they sent your husband something.

But then you remember that the postal worker had said the package was for Coriolanus and Y/N Snow. Oh boy, so did they send you something in the crate too? And how did they know that Coriolanus got married? You've only been married for 3 days. Did they just assume or did Sejanus get a hold of his parents and tell them. How fast does Peacekeeper mail travel?

They say curiosity killed the cat, but it didn't kill you.

You opened the crate, with the help of a bottle opener that you used to pry the wooden lid off, and saw that inside of the crate was a few wrapped packages and a tin. Oh, so the Plinths sent Christmas presents. That's very nice of them.

You take the packages and the tin out, only to place them on them on the kitchen table. Then you realize that you don't have a Christmas tree to place the presents under. You'll have to talk to Your husband about it when Coryo gets home.

During the factory’s lunch break Coriolanus is stuck watching the workers gather in a breakroom while waiting for his relief to come. His partner's relief showed up, but not Private Snow's. Talk about shit luck.

So, Coriolanus stands up straight in the break room, watching over the factory workers with some scurvy looking Peacekeeper a few yards away from him.

Coriolanus narrows his icy eyes as he watches Ashlie shake her head at her co-worker and stand up from her lunch table. What's she up to?

“Why's she heading over here?” The scurvy Peacekeeper asked Coriolanus.

“She knows my wife.” Was Coriolanus’ curt answer.

“You got a wife?” The Peacekeeper by the platinum um blonde asked, his brow skewed up curiously.

“By District 8 rituals, yea.” Coriolanus nodded. “I got a wife.”

“You know that ain't allowed. Better keep it a secret.”

“You gonna tell on me?” Private Snow asked, his face stony, as he looked the scurvy guy next to him in the eye.

“No.” The Peacekeeper next to Coriolanus shook his head. “I don't care what you do, but there's some people that would sell that kind of information to further themselves.”

Little did the scurvy Peacekeeper know that Coriolanus is one of those people who'll sell out somebody for the upper hand; to get ahead.

“I need to talk to you.” Ashlie told Coriolanus as she came to a stop right in front of him. Looking between your husband and his fellow peacekeeper, she added in, “Privately.”

“Fine.” Coriolanus told her. “I'll be in the hall with her; I won't be long.” He told the peacekeeper before turning and leading your once sister-in-law out into the hallway.

Once in the hallway, he sneered, “What's so important that a whore like you had to seek me out for?”

“One of the girls says that she saw you in the market the other day buying supplies for a handfasting.” Ashlie's eyes welled up with sorrow as she begged, “Please, tell me you didn't marry my sister.”

“Y/N’s not your sister. Her dead brother was your meal ticket, but that doesn't make her your sister.” Coriolanus coldly told the factory worker. “In fact, she's shit to you since you abandoned her shortly after dragging her here.” Towering over Ashlie, like a predator tower's over their prey before they strike, he condescendingly said, “You're such a good ‘sister’ that my darling rose has to stoop so low to resort to stealing to feed herself. If I wasn't there to witness her whipping; to carry her home and tens to her then who knows what shape she'd be in right now.”

Ashlie’s eyes blazed hatefully as she looked up at Coriolanus. “I’m going to do anything I have to get Y/N to see the light and leave you. You filthy Capitol blooded peacekeeper.”

Shoving the thin brunette girl against the wall, Coriolanus wraps his large, calloused hand around her throat. Pressing his thumb, hard, into her windpipe he hatefully threatens in a snake like hiss, “You stay the fuck away from my wife, you ratty lil whore, or else I'll fuck that pussy of yours up and pass you around the barracks to let my squad take turns with you before snapping your neck and tossing you into that sludge filled river.” A managing look crossed over his face as he toyed with the girl who's life he literally had in his hand. “What's it called again? That's right, the Cuyahoga River.”

Ashlie couldn't breath, all she could do was let out high pitched wheezes. She frantically clawed at your husband's hand, desperate to breath since he was choking her.

“Stop your dramatics, you stupid whore.” Coriolanus commanded harshly before letting Ashlie's neck go.

She gasped desperately for air, her lungs aching for oxygen to give them their substance, as he knees buckled. Ashlie slid against the wall, watching as Private Snow- your cold and cruel husband- walked back into the factory's break room as if nothing has happened. As if he just didn't nearly kill her; threaten violent things against her.

Ashlie's off tomorrow and, even tho sh was threaten by Coriolanus, she's determined to get you to leave him. So, she's going to be paying you a visit.

A visit that'll prove to be her last once your husband hears about it.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[see-arcane]

I will say the one point of accidental levity in this entry is very, very good

Because, like. Yeah, the mother saw Jonathan in the window--the very high, very distant window, at night--and started shouting for her kid. She did speak in English (or else Jonathan knew what tongue she was speaking and translated), and that lends some credence to ‘Oh, she thinks Jonathan took the baby!’

But also, consider:

1. Count Teaboo has probably been leaning into his English lessons all over the place. It’s not a far stretch to assume he’s been using more than the Undead Girl Gang to practice on. There’s every chance she recognized the ‘Dracula’s stealing babies’ pattern from all the other families who had their babies stolen by Dracula, and assumed, naturally, that it was Dracula’s face in the window. Cue...all of That.

2. Remember, even if the locals did assume Jonathan was already vampire’d, he’s also. You know. Not going to magically become an extra head taller. Or become stick man-skinny. Or suddenly look a great deal like the undead boyar everyone and their grandmother has been living in fear of their entire lives, but wearing the doomed Englishman’s hat and coat.

Like, he’s going out to send mail, not just pick up the kid meal. I think Jonathan’s assuming a lot about either Dracula’s disguise ability or the near-sightedness of the locals.

Dracula, twirling his white moustache, doing his best Ben Galpin impression: Yes, hello, it is me, young Englishman Jonathan Harker, here to send on some letters :)

Postal workers, not paid enough to die for pointing out that Dracula is Dracula: ok

[mrbingley]

i'm working on a ttrpg for my family for christmas (mom and two siblings) when they visit. the gist of it is: santa letter heist. all santa letters with no return and no deliverable address are sent to the mail recovery center in atlanta, georgia (this is true (there will be more true things: fun lil info about the postal service incorporated in just b/c i have always been a lil fascinated with it)). every year elves have to break in and steal all the santa letters so santa can read them.

one postal worker is convinced elves are stealing their mail but no one believes them (very crocker from fairy god parents). yr after yr this sole worker has added to the security of the facility in hopes of catching the elves. there will be fun traps. one room will be a maze of lasers that the players only have five seconds to look at before they have to pick a spot/path to start on (which may or may not be a dead end) and a laser that moves across the room will make them have to keep going.

there will be an NPC “elf” who joins the players on this heist. but they’re actually a leprechaun. they wear all green instead of the festive christmas red/green elves typically wear. they dyed their ginger hair white and the tips of their fingers are white (but, oh, that’s just snow or sugar powder!). they agreed to help the postal worker take down the elves in exchange for all the gold that was in any of the letters/packages sent here.

once the players get to the final room where the letters are stored, the leprechaun books it for the pile of gold—not the santa letters—and alerts the postal worker who is hiding in a fake bag of letters. boss fight ensues.

i haven’t come up with the mechanics yet but they’ll be simple. one of the elf abilities will def be “giving spirit” where they can compel someone to give them something with the power of the gift giving spirit of christmas (can only use this once and still have to roll for it).

my twin already pitched her elf character. who doesn’t live in the north pole anymore and lives in arizona like a cowboy. when they lived in the north pole they were the one who wrangled and taught the reindeer (they loved cowboys from a young age and no one believed in their ability to be a cowboy so they had to teach themselves how to be one with the reindeer). they wear regular cowboy boots but because they’re a tiny elf the cowboy boots look like thigh high boots on them. the reindeer are def the players getaway vehicle. i'll think of other ways to incorporate my twin's elf's backstory into the mechanics and plot.

i'll be making illustrations of their elves. maps. item cards or scenes that would be fun to see. possibly some sort of tangible, physical mechanic (like the popularity/high society meter in the court of fey and flowers (maybe a nice vs naughty meter; and elves intrinsically mustn't drop into naughty or it hurts / maddens / mutates them?)).

anyway. i’m excited to dig into a project like this that can consume my attention for the next couple months. i'm doing this because 1) it's fun to make and run campaigns 2) i'm too dang poor to buy anyone christmas gifts this year 3) i want to make a one shot that is fun and polished enough that i can publish online.

[earhartsplane]

I am not trying to ruffle any feathers, but I have to say this before Season 2 comes out, so I can act smug when I’m right. Here is my number one prediction for Good Omens Season 2:

There won’t be a voice-over.

Now hang on. I know it’s a controversial opinion. Let me explain.

I have noticed that virtually every adaptation of Terry Pratchett’s books has some sort of voice over, either diagetic (like Going Postal, where it’s part of the framing device) or non-diagetic (Hogfather). And I get it ! If you’ve read any of the Discworld book and have this weird brain quirk where a part of you is always thinking about how this would translate on screen, you’ve probably noticed two things:

1. There’s visual humour in text form. How ? This man was a genius and a will be missed forever.

2. There’s so much that just can’t be translated on a purely visual level. The footnotes! Should we just leave the footnotes out ? They’re so great! They add so much to the world in general. There are running jokes that only appear in the footnotes ! Should we just accept that it won’t make it to screen ?

Yes. I’m sorry, but yes. Some things will be lost. Maybe you can integrate one of these jokes as recurring background events ? A lot of people are not going to notice though. There’s an expectation that the reader will read all of the words, while the viewer may not see all that’s happening on screen (although, to be fair, you will be noticing new puns on every re-read for years in the case of the Discworld).

(In comparison, adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s work are less prone to voice over. If I remember correctly, Coraline didn’t have one. Sandman starts with a bit of voice-over from the main character, but nothing more after that. I don’t remember any in American Gods. MirrorMask has left me nothing but the memory of a fever dream, so I can’t be sure. )

This is not to say that the voice-over in season one was pointless. It establishes the tone, to start with. If you remember, the opening narration is about the age of the Earth, in which we learn that it was created on the 21st of October, 4004 B.C., and therefore learn its star sign. It’s a good way to show that yes, there are angels in this, and demons, and the garden of Eden, and if you want to think too hard about this, they’ve got you covered. But if you think that these depictions are either blasphemous or religious propaganda, it might be a good time to learn to take a step back (and a joke, in my personal opinion).

But there are definitely instances of narration that would never have happened if season 1 wasn’t a book adaptation. I am thoroughly convinced that Dog’s experimentation with chasing and being chased by cats would have been screen only. Maybe a scene. Maybe something happening in he background. Who knows.

And here’s the thing. Season 2 isn’t the adaptation of a novel. I remember a tweet by Neil Gaiman about how he and Pratchett had a sequel plotted out, but even that isn’t season 2. According to the same, tweet, Season 2 is how we get there.

My number 2 prediction is that there will be a an intense heist scene during which Sadie and Dottie both try to steal some incriminating letters unbeknownst to each other.

[silentchamp]

Some time has passed since your adventure across time and space. 

Today, a letter finds you. This letter isn’t delivered by the postal carrier that you usually expect: you would be met at the front door of your dwelling by a young man dressed in white, a hat on top of his head, and a professional, kind smile on his face. Having to sign for a simple letter seems odd, but the courier assures that ‘this is standard protocol for us.’

A white envelope stamped with the familiar golden trident of the Aether Foundation is in your hands. Inside of it is a letter written with extraordinarily neat penmanship. 

Mr. Suzuki,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are recovering from our expedition from the comfort of your own home. 

In the coming days, myself and the Aether Foundation will likely be in the international news regarding our ‘strangely timed’ decision to sever certain partnerships with fellow giants in our shared industry. Do not be alarmed by this. It is a direct response to harrowing usage of my intellectual property in another time, and another place. I, and the entirety of my team, will not allow Aether technology to cause harm to people, or Pokemon, neither by our hands, or the hands of our competitors. You may sleep soundly knowing that our collective actions will prevent an apocalypse of that magnitude happening in our home.

From my mind to yours: I wish to personally thank you for your involvement, and the tireless effort that you put into destroying Archeus. It has left a lasting impression on me, as I am sure it has with the rest of our team.

Several of the partners that we relocated from Area Zero are currently being rehabilitated in the Aether Conservation Area. We are currently zoning an area strictly for our iron partners, so that they may receive enrichment and resources whenever they need.

The Aether Foundation is dedicated to improving the relationship between people, Pokémon, and technology. Consider myself, and my foundation, as a permanent ally, and useful resource for anything that you may need. I highly encourage you to take advantage of these resources whenever necessary.

Lastly, you are cordially invited to the Aether Paradise on a later date, to be honored for your duty, for defending life as we know it, and for instilling a bright new belief in humanity– for me.

Thank you.

Do not hesitate to contact me. Attached to this letter is my business contact, and personal contact. I request that you keep it to yourself.

-President Lusamine Delacroix

At the bottom corner of the letter is a large, strange blotch of ink. A thumb print, maybe? Upon further investigation, it seems to have been left by the tip of the tail of a serpentine creature, who also wanted to sign the note.

It was strange.

It was strange, the delivery of the message, to see the familiar uniform of an Aether Foundation member in the region of Kanto seemed strange...to have them show up on his doorstep was another matter, entirely. It was bizarre, if you'd asked him about it.

He'd held off on opening the letter. Not on purpose, rather, balancing both League and laboratory duties posed a troubling task, one that required several arms, like an octillery, rather than two. If only Red could Double Team and make clones of himself.

One finger would ghost over the professional inking of the Aether Foundation logo on the front of the outer layer of the note, people ripping the envelope open--ruining whatever pristine imagery it had--and stealing the letter out from inside.

It's uninteresting, and Red deliberates tossing it out, until eyes scan over a very important sentence, one that seemingly sticks out from the rest of Lusamine's formal jargon:

"Several of the partners that we relocated from Area Zero are currently being rehabilitated in the Aether Conservation Area."

Red reads faster, quicker, skimming over the note front to back, up and down, side-to-side with a newfound sparkle in his eye as he thinks about his previous companion during everybody's time spent in Zero City.

Janus.

Getting up from the kitchen counter, the chair screeches against the floor tile, and Red would launch onto his feet, marching over to his poryphone. A smile can't help but work itself onto his face, expression glimmering with joy.

He needs to make a few phone calls.

[beardedmrbean]

Two men face federal charges in recent assaults on the same day of two postal workers during armed robberies of mail and checks in Hamilton County, federal court records show.

A federal grand jury indicted Antonio Toombs and Lorenzo Brandon on one count each of conspiracy to commit assault of a postal carrier; conspiracy to commit firearms offense; robbery of mail, money, or other property of the United States and theft of mail keys, according to copies of their indictment.

Brandon and Toombs and “others known and unknown to the grand jury” were involved in the Oct. 21 offenses in the southern district of Ohio and “elsewhere,” their indictment states, indicating more than two postal carriers were robbed that day.

Two USPS letter carriers were assaulted and robbed at gunpoint for their postal “arrow keys,” according to a criminal complaint.

Postal arrow keys are used by carriers to open mailboxes on their routes. They are regularly targeted nationally by thieves hunting mail and other items that could be sold or used to steal identities, according to the postal service.

The offenses occurred at:

The intersection of Hanna and Glenmore avenues in Westwood at 12:40 p.m.

3200 block of Harry Lee Lane in Colerain Twp around 3:40 p.m.

Video surveillance of both robbery scenes shows the same vehicle was used in both offenses, according to a criminal complaint.

Federal authorities found the USPS arrow key stolen on Harry Lee Lane when they searched Toombs’ residence on Oct. 30, the complaint states. It was in a backpack that also held Brandon’s state ID.

In addition, they found three handguns, personal and business checks that didn’t belong to either man, debit cards in other names, a printer, a bottle of “HEET” antifreeze and two empty bottles of acetone, all consistent with items to steal checks from collection boxes and wash and/or alter them using HEET or acetone, federal court records show.

Toombs denied being involved when authorities interviewed him.

However, his cell phone shows he had a texting conversation with someone on the day of the robberies where they discussed driving around and finding a postal worker, according to the complaint.

Toombs is scheduled to appear in federal court at 1:30 p.m. Monday before U.S. District Court Magistrate Judge Karen L. Litkovitz

He was taken into custody and booked into the Butler County Jail on Nov. 20, the same day he had an initial court appearance.

Federal officials requested pretrial detention so he remains in jail.

Brandon’s case will return to court at 1:30 p.m. on Tuesday before U.S. District Court Magistrate Stephanie Bowman.

He has pleaded not guilty and was released on his own recognizance with location monitoring and a curfew, court records show.

Brandon has waived his right to appear in court Tuesday.

[atamascolily]

princess tutu re-watch, episode 19

Way to open this episode with a time-stop. Drosselmeyer knows how to make an entrance.

Drosselmeyer: Congratulations, kid! You got all the heart shards that were stuck in other people! Time to up your game because the story's not over yet!

Ahiru: are you going to be helpful or are you just going to-- oh, never mind.

She finally tells Fakir about Drosselmeyer, though it's unclear from his demeanor how seriously he's taking this.

Fakir: So WHAT if you hurt Mytho? That little punk can totally take it. We have bigger problems, like how we're going to fight the raven.

Ahiru: Okay, but no violence, please.

Fakir: Are you insulting my manhood?

Ahiru: FIND A HEALTHIER FORM OF MASCULINITY THEN! You could be, like, a knight of RESEARCH! An academic! A gentleman AND a scholar!

Fakir: This conversation is OVER, but I will walk you home because I am in fact a gentleman

Ahiru: Are you mad?

Fakir (lying through gritted teeth): I'm not mad, just disappointed.

Ahiru (internally): he's SO mad.

Cut to the next day with Lilie and Pike: You were thinking about Fakir again, weren't you, Ahiru!

Ahiru: No! Well, yes, but not like that--

Lilie WROTE A LOVE LETTER to Fakir in Ahiru's name AHAHAHAHAHA

"Here, take this! If you give it to a random NPC named Bottom, they will solve all your relationship problems for you OR create new ones!"

Ahiru: Isn't the whole point of love confessions to do it yourself--oh, never mind.

Ahiru's Fakir impression is ON POINT, hahaha

Bottom is not a donkey, but a girl named Hermia in a donkey costume--an important distinction in this show. She runs a private postal service, because apparently Golden Crown Academy doesn't have campus mail??

She also has a crush on a guy named Lysander who looks WAY TOO OLD to be a student, but whatever

Uzura steals Hermia's donkey head and runs into the library banging her drum, much to Ahiru's dismay.

Random Megane Guy Who Is Always In the Library: SHUT UP!!!

Ahiru: Why are you here, Fakir?

Fakir: Well, I decided to take your advice and try being a scholar. Just for a bit. I can always save the sword for later if things get tough.

Random Gossip Wallabies (?): Oh, no! Mytho took Hermia to the school make-out point!

Evil!Mytho: Have I mentioned how much I like your ASS?

Evil!Mytho: See, Rue, I told you girls love puns!

Tutu: Hermia, You have to tell your crush your feelings because I can't ever tell mine, and SOMEONE should be happy!

Hermia takes Tutu's advice, and it turns out Lysander is in love with her too, and even made a sculpture of her--this would have been so creepy if his feelings hadn't been reciprocated, but thankfully, it all works out.

Uzura finds the fake love letter to Fakir and gives it to him. Cut to Fakir showing up the next day and lecturing Ahiru in the exact same words and tone of voice that she expected.

(they know each other so WELL by this point, hahahaha)

[aparticularbandit]

Letters to Santa (Glass Onion Fam Edition)

Summary: Peg has boat trauma, so when her family goes on a cruise for the holidays, she stays behind to babysit Birdie and finds that her boss still believes in Santa - for very good reason.

word count: 1427

“Birdie, don’t tell me.”

Peg normally takes the holidays off.  And by take the holidays off, she means steal Birdie’s phone and take it with her on vacation because if she actually left her boss alone with her phone over the holidays, there would be so many inappropriate tweets that it would be catastrophic.  Like the situation that almost occurred back on Christmas 2017, except that Peg intercepted the phone before any tweet could be made.

This year, however, her sister’s extended family had decided to invite everyone on a cruise, and her parents and the rest of her family had gone.  Peg, however, was still nursing some slight trauma from this year’s Glass Onion Fam Summer Extravaganza – every year, Birdie and her closest friends took a week off (sometimes more with less people; Claire and Andi, for instance, often had a hard time taking off more than a week, while Duke was always free, and Helen could take a full month off but usually didn’t); they each took turns hosting, coming up with ideas that they would all enjoy.  Some extravaganzas go better than others, and last year, when Duke decided to take them all backwater fishing, had been.  horrible.  Peg had made it back mostly unscathed with a minor case of food poisoning, but poor Claire had been covered in mosquito bites, despite the vast amounts of bug spray she’d used. Duke said they should be grateful it wasn’t a hunting trip.  Peg is just grateful that he doesn’t get to throw the extravaganza next year (and Birdie isn’t either).

So, still nursing a deep distrust for all things involving living on the water in a boat, Peg voted no and skipped out on the family vacation.  Which, unfortunately, meant she really had nothing to do for the holidays except babysit.  Just like every other day.

But Birdie has been relatively calm, and today, Christmas Eve, she’s pulled out a blank piece of paper and her box of colored pencils – sounds childish, but when Peg is hiding her electronic devices, it’s the only way Birdie can get any of her fashion designs out on paper – and started writing…a letter.

Peg kneels in front of her, hands on her knees.  “Please don’t tell me you still believe in Santa.”

Birdie’s head snaps up.  “Why wouldn’t I?  I see Santa everywhere this time of year. He changes shape and sometimes he’s got a long white beard and sometimes he’s clean – once, I saw a bunch of Santas doing a strip tease at a bar, and I even slept with one of—”

Peg tunes this next part out.  She has to, if she wants to keep her sanity.

“Anyway.”  Birdie waves her hand dismissively.  “Santa’s definitely real.  Not great at—”

Tuning her out.  Again.

Peg presses her lips together.  Considers.  She can’t just tell Birdie that Santa doesn’t exist.  That would be unnecessarily cruel, even if Birdie really should know that already.  She pushes a hand through her short hair.  “But, Birdie, honestly, you’re writing that letter to him on Christmas Eve, there’s no way the postal service will get it there in time.”

Birdie looks up.  Blinks up at Peg.  The toes on her stretched out legs wiggle.  “He’s coming to me, Peg.”

Peg groans and covers her face with one hand.  “Please tell me you’re not going to have sex with Santa again—”

“No, no!”  Birdie waves her hands, panicky, in front of Peg’s face.  “Santa’s got a huge job to do.  He can’t have sex with me now. He’s busy!”  She sighs.  “But every year, he and Mrs. Claus come see me.”  She pats her mattress twice and gets back to writing her letter without even looking up.  “You’ll see.”

~

There’s no knock on the door to signal any arrivals, but there is the subtle click of a key turning in the doorknob that alerts Peg to someone else’s presence.  Birdie is passed out on the couch, her letter folded up on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a plate full of different brands of store-bought cookies and a glass of what was hot cocoa but is now lukewarm cocoa.  Peg crouches down and creeps to the door just in time to hear a hearty, “Ho ho ho!” in a nearly booming voice that she recognizes.

“Lionel!” Peg hisses.

Then the lights flip on, blinding her, as Lionel – dressed in a nicely tailored Santa suit, with a fluffy white beard and a huge bag full of…honestly, Peg doesn’t want to know what the bag is full of (and honestly is kind of afraid that when Birdie gifted all of them with those really cheap vibrators one New Years Eve, they’d come from this Lionel Santa, which is a whole other layer of awkward) – parades into Birdie’s home, followed by….

Peg’s eyes widen.  “Claire, you have kids!  How are you even here?”

Lionel meets Peg’s eyes and gives her a sly little wink before passing her to a still groggy and not quite awake Birdie.  Claire, on the other hand, dressed in a much less tailored and very white Mrs. Claus dress (because even now, she doesn’t wear anything so loudly colorful as red) and with fake gold-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of her nose, takes her to one side.  “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Peg hisses, arms crossed.  “This is fucked up.”

Claire’s gaze drifts over to Birdie and then returns to Peg.  “You ruin this for her, and I will fuck you up—”

“My dear Mrs. Claus!” Lionel Santa booms, arms spread wide.  “Why don’t you come give our favorite naughty child a hug?”

Peg’s eyes widen, and she mouths, “N a u g h t y ?”

Claire just gives a shrug.  “You really think Birdie wants on the nice list?” she says before waltzing over to Birdie’s waiting arms.

~

Birdie dozes off, resting against Claire Claus’s ruffle covered chest, shortly after Lionel Santa leaves.  A few minutes pass before Claire waves a hand over Birdie’s face.  When Birdie doesn’t move, she slowly and carefully extricates herself from beneath her now quite slumbering friend.

Peg just stares at her.  “What, and I cannot say this kindly enough, the fuck, Claire?”

Claire levels a dark glare at her.  “That’s Mrs. Claus to you, Peg.” Then she tilts her head to the door. She slips carefully away.

Of course, Peg follows, arms still crossed.  Once they are outside, away from where Birdie could possibly hear them, she leans forward, tries to perch up on her tiptoes to make herself taller. “What the hell?”

“Look,” Claire says, taking the glasses from off her nose and the white Santa hat off of her head.  “Birdie loves Santa.  A lot. And she couldn’t figure out why he quit visiting her when she grew up.  She was really out of sorts about it.” She meets Peg’s eyes.  “One year, she wrote him a letter a day from Thanksgiving on, and she asked each of us to write letters, too, and then she mailed all of them out together.  That’s when Lionel and I started doing this, alright?”

Peg grits her teeth.  “He’s not real.”

Claire sighs.  “No, Peg, he’s not.  But Birdie doesn’t know that.”  She reaches over and pats Peg’s shoulder.  “And if you try to tell her, I will personally make sure that—”

“I’m not going to tell her,” Peg hisses.  She glances back to the now closed door, imagining her boss curled up on the couch on the other side.  “I’m not that cruel.”

“Good.”

As Peg turns back, she catches Claire giving her a onceover.  She flinches.  “What?”

“What are you doing here, Peg?”

Peg shifts her weight.  She should have been gone hours ago, but….  “Birdie said Santa and Mrs. Claus came to visit her every year.  I had to make sure she would be okay.”

Claire looks her over again.  Gives a little nod.  “She’ll miss you, if you’re gone when she wakes up.”  Her lips rub together.  “You’re a good kid, Peg.  If you ever need a reference, call me.  I’ll take care of you.”

Peg can’t think of anything to say, so she lets Claire walk away without pestering her further.  Then she turns back, tries to open the door, and finds that she’s locked herself out. Fucking fuck.  She doesn’t want to wake Birdie up, but unfortunately she has no choice.  She pounds on the door.

“C’mon, Birdie!  For once in your life, wake up!”

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Youths Lectured On Mail Theft," Kingston Whig-Standard. May 17, 1933. Page 3. ---- Will Have to Report Once Each Week for Some Time --- Arrainged before J. M. Farrell, K. C. in Juvenile Court this morning, three lads taken into custody on Tuesday pleaded guilty to a charge of stealing a mail bag from the Villa St. Clair Apartments on Barrie Street.

The lads aged 9, 10 and 11, apparently did not realize the seriousness of the charge they pleaded guilty to, but this was drawn to their attention by Mr. Farrell, who after giving the case serious consideration, decided to have the lads remanded. They will not be kept in custody, but will have to report every week.

The Post Office Department believed that they have accounted for practically all the letters which were stolen and mutilated.

In addition to the good work of members of the Post Office staff in the recovery of the mail, The Whig-Standard was informed today that Mrs. Bill, wife of the caretaker of St. Clair Apartments succeeded in rounding up one of the lads, and that two girls caught the other boy. All were held until the arrival of Constable Brennan, who took them into custody.

Post Office officials appeared in court and exhibited the mail bag the boys had torn open. They also placed before the court a number of mutilated envelopes and letters.

[lissy-strata]

lol @ whoever was trying to steal my identity to commit unemployment fraud. They failed to consider two (2) important things:

I live in a rural, small town area where our postal carrier knows who I am and knows to forward my mail to my *actual* address.

I have ADHD and I keep forgetting to respond to all this mail asking for paperwork.

Got a letter saying they've denied the claim because they never got a response lol

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

We finally know who bailed Rep. George Santos (R-NY) out of jail—despite the beleaguered congressman claiming he’d rather go to jail than give up their names.

Court documents unsealed Thursday revealed that Santos’ father and aunt put up the $500,000 bail bond that allowed Santos to walk free after his arrest by federal authorities last month.

While only their signatures appeared on the unsealed document, a source close to the matter confirmed their names as Gercino dos Santos Jr. and Elma Santos Preven.

Gercino, Santos’ father, lives in New York and previously worked as a house painter, according to The New York Times.

Santos’ father and aunt both donated thousands to his congressional bid, according to federal elections data. Preven’s social media accounts reflect a particular interest in Brazilian politics, as she has posted material critical of the country’s left-wing President Ignacio Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva and supportive of his far-right foe and predecessor, Jair Bolsonaro. A United States Postal Service worker, she owns properties in both Queens and in Brazil.

“My family & I have made peace with the judges decision to release their names,” Santos tweeted on Thursday afternoon. “Now I pray that the judge is correct and no harm comes to them.”

Prosecutors have accused Santos of running a scheme to defraud political donors, cheating the federal government out of COVID-19 relief funds, and even faking disclosure forms during his campaign for a Long Island congressional seat. The Justice Department indicted him in May on 13 counts that include money laundering, stealing public money, wire fraud, and making false statements to Congress. Santos pleaded not guilty to all those charges, calling the case a “witch hunt.”

“I’m going to fight my battle, I’m going to deliver, I’m going to fight the witch hunt, I’m going to take care of clearing my name, and I look forward to doing that,” he told reporters massed outside the court last month.

Santos surrendered to authorities at a Long Island courthouse on May 10. His suretors—the people who bailed Santos out of jail that day—stepped in to cover his $500,000 bond, but not before Santos’ defense team moved to have their identities redacted from public court filings.

Since then, Santos and his lawyers have fought tooth and nail to keep those names out of the public eye, citing perceived threats to their physical safety and emotional well-being.

“There is little doubt that the suretors will suffer some unnecessary form of retaliation if their identities and employment are revealed,” attorney Joseph Murray wrote in a June 5 letter to Judge Anne Y. Shields. He added that Santos would rather have the parties withdraw their support and await his trial in jail “than subject these suretors to what will inevitably come.”

In that same letter, Murray claimed that one of Santos’ suretors backed out after witnessing the “media frenzy” around the case.

The identity of Santos’ mystery benefactors drew the interest not only of the news media but also the House Ethics Committee, which wants to evaluate whether receiving the bail bond breached congressional rules on receiving gifts.

Media outlets had asked Judge Shields to unseal the names of Santos’ benefactors, to which she agreed in a June 6 order. Santos immediately appealed. When that move failed this week, Judge Joanna Seybert slated the reveal for Thursday at noon.

In the unsuccessful appeal, Murray countered claims that Santos violated House ethics rules by revealing that the bail money came, at least in part, from members of Santos’ family.

The court also unsealed a protective order on Thursday that will keep discovery materials confidential, a common procedure in criminal cases.

Santos first gained notoriety when a New York Times investigation revealed that he had lied his way into office, fabricating practically his entire resume. Since then, most of his life story—from his religious background to his mother’s death to his volleyball skills—has been exposed as fraudulent.

State and local entities, as well as authorities in Brazil, have since pursued criminal probes. Democrats in Congress have pushed for his expulsion, while Republican Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy has declined to support his re-election bid.

“I think he has other things to focus on in his life than running for re-election,” McCarthy told reporters in the Capitol.

But Santos hasn’t wavered on his plans to run again for New York’s 3rd congressional district in 2024, even as his legal troubles pile up.

[charlesandmartine]

Tuesday 7th February 2023

Now when I said we had an exciting excursion planned for today, I do appreciate it wouldn't necessarily be of top interest to all, but we found it to be really interesting. The visit was to the old General Post Office, 1, Martin Place. We were at two minds about the interest level here, but we were really fascinated by it's history.

It all started in 1809 when an ex-convict was asked to sort a bit of a problem out. Ever since the second fleet arrived in 1790 mail was arriving in droves and anyone expecting mail from England would go down to the incoming ship and generally make themselves a nuisance finding out if there was anything for them. With no formal ID checking it could be hit and miss for mail to be delivered either at all, or indeed to the intended recipient. So, the government appointed Isaac Nichols to be the very first postmaster in Australia to sort out the mess. Isaac had been sentenced to 7 years and transported to the colonies for stealing a donkey, so who better qualified to do this job could there possibly be? The first thing he did was to buy a house in George Street where he could live and run the first post office from. He then devised a system of collecting post from the ships, advertising a list of recipients and charging a shilling for a letter and up to 5 bob for a large parcel. His business grew and he became one of the wealthiest businessmen in the colony growing his own personal landholding to 1400acres. Not bad, although I don't think such a happy outcome can be assured for all who steal a donkey!

When he died they didn't have a post office anymore, so in 1825 the government passed the Postal Act, which is when they built the first General Post Office on the site we visited today, corner of George Street and Martin Place. Strangely it was located over what had become quite a nasty disease ridden river called the Tank Stream which caused a few planning problems as you might imagine. Technologies came and went, sorting became an art form and morse turned into telephone and telex. This building saw it all and finally, when it had outlived it's purpose, was taken over by an Asian prestige hotel chain with rooms starting at 500 dollars a night for a basic room. 587 dollars will pay for a valentine's evening meal! They spent a fortune restoring and converting the old building alongside it's new companion, and it was the hotel staff who proudly promote its history by offering free 1.5 hour tours.

All that history gave us a hunger so we went to a food hall for a Chinese.

Arriving home was a bit of a shock when we found our landlord, Bob, had been taken to hospital having had a mild stroke. So we are minding the shop but somewhat stunned. We wish him well. His neighbour, who is a GP has told us his prospects are good because they caught it early.

[brainfondue]

In post apo if someone finds you guilty of stealing or withholding another person's postal packages/letters the postal officers will come to get you.

[dankusner]

NORTH TEXAS Suspects admit guilt in USPS robberies

Two men face up to 15 years in federal prison after pleading guilty to their roles in eight mail carrier robberies this year in North Texas, according to a news release from the U.S. Attorney for the Northern District of Texas.

Louis Dixon and Jerrad Coleman, both 18, were charged in April with one count each of robbery of property of the United States and conspiracy to rob and unlawfully possess property of the United States, the release said.

Dixon pleaded guilty last Wednesday, and Coleman pleaded guilty Tuesday.

The men “trawled the streets” of the Dallas-Fort Worth area looking for postal service letter carriers to rob with the hopes of obtaining an Arrow Key, which is a master key used to gather mail deposited in blue collection boxes, according to court documents. The keys are prized by mail thieves, the release said. It allows them to illicitly access mailboxes to steal mail, checks, credit cards and other sensitive information. The robberies Dixon and Coleman pleaded guilty to occurred between January and April in Arlington, Dallas, Fort Worth and Frisco. They robbed some of the carriers at gunpoint before fleeing in vehicles and using, selling or disposing of the master keys, according to the release. “The U.S. Postal Service and the U.S. Postal Inspection Service will never cease placing employee safety as one of our top priorities,” Kai Pickens, inspector in charge at the Fort Worth Division of the U.S. Postal Inspection Service, said in the release. “Let this serve as a warning to anyone who seeks to harm and traumatize our employees: The U.S. Postal Inspection Service will utilize every resource to find you and bring you to justice.”

Inspector in Charge Sep 2023 - Present · 11 mos — Fort Worth, Texas U.S. Postal Inspector

Aug 2004 - Present · 20 yrs Assistant Inspector in Charge

Inspector in Charge Kai Pickens, Fort Worth Division of the U.S. Postal Inspection Service.

kai.pickens@uspis.gov