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mwolf0epsilon · 5 years

Note

Saddiq + John Hammond = *Jurassic Noises* (Pls may i request android dinosaurs that Jericho must deal with. Ill give you my soul )

Enjoy!

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[[MORE]]

Markus gets the call early in the morning. He's spent over 78 hours working on refining the Android Rights bills so it takes him a while to process what Connor is telling him but (when it finally clicks) he practically vaults over his desk and trips out of his room. He scares the ever loving crap out of Matthew who was trying to administer Carl's meds, and apologizes profusely for intruding.

"Dad do you still have Mr. Siddiq's number?" The RK200 asks as he straightens his clothes. He looks a mess.

"It's one of my emergency numbers. I keep it on speed dial on my smartphone." Carl is amused by Markus's odd question, making sure to pat Matthew's arm reassuringly when the AP700 starts looking like an angry bird with ruffled feathers. He took his job as a caretaker very seriously and disliked sudden interruptions in his care schedule. "Why?"

"You're not going to believe this..." Markus mutters as he looks down at his feet.

"Try me."

---

Carl, it turns out, isn't that easy to surprise and takes the news in good stride. The others are the ones who cannot believe their eyes when they all drive downtown and lay eyes on

"Is... Is that a fucking T-rex?!" North's eyes are wide, while Josh looks like he's about to have some sort of stroke. Simon on the other hand looks like he's having a blast.

"I had almost forgotten the museum bought dinosaur android replicas for the prehistoric exibits!" The PL600 practically bounced in excitement as he watched the T-rex walk around, sniffing it's environment while the police kept it corraled with squad cars.

On the other side of the street Connor was helping lieutenant Anderson interrogate the museum owner.

The four leaders exchanged looks before walking over.

"I swear, it was all fine this morning, then Rex just..." The middle aged man flailed as he tried to find the right words "Bolted..."

"No signs of trouble from the other models?" The RK800 inquired further.

"None whatsoever." The man insisted.

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. He turned to look at the massive android dinosaur and shook his head in disbelief.

"At least it's not going around rampaging around town... We don't need a Jurassic Park reenactment."

"I doubt it would feel the need to do so lieutenant." Connor looked over as well "Most causes of aggression in newly deviated androids is due to abuse and emotional trauma, the signs of which are not at all present in this TRX1's general demeanor."

"I'd say he looks pretty happy." Simon added as the four joined the three men.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, as you can see this is a... Rather strange case." Connor smiled sheepishly, looking somewhat apologetic towards Markus who looked a little out of it.

"We'd never mistreat Rex. He's practically the museum's crown jewel!" The owner exclaimed "Everyone loves him, especially the children."

"We can tell. He's very docile for uh, a T-rex..." Josh watched as the massive animal decided to lay down in the middle of the road, rumbling contentedly at its newfound freedom.

"Which is why I need help... He's a very good boy he is, so it'd feel cruel to coop him up inside in his old enclosure..." The owner frowned sadly.

Which was why Markus had preemptively asked for Mr. Siddiq's number. If anyone could properly house a deviant t-rex it was certainly him.

---

"I can't believe we're doing this..." North grumbled as the four leaders of Jericho chaperoned an android dinosaur through the city, much to the awe of several onlookers in the streets.

"Asad Siddiq's android animal sanctuary is located outside of city limits and we can't exactly ride the subway with a dinosaur." Markus sighed miserably as Rex lowered his head to nibble on the back of his coat. The large beast chirped affectionately as it lifted the coat up and over the RK200's head. "Why are you so upset about this anyway? I thought you of all people would love to get up close and personal with the tyrant king lizard."

"Tyrannosaurus Rex is overated." North shrugged "Carnos are waaay cooler."

"Carnos are only cool because of the horns. Allosaurus is a lot more impressive." Josh pointed out. "There's a fossil with a healed over broken jaw. Proof of it's adaptability, intelligence and survival tactics."

"You're both wrong. Look up the titanoboa. They ate Tyrannosaurus, Carnosaurus and Allosaurus for breakfast, lunch and dinner." Simon smirked.

"We get it Simon, if you could you'd live your life as a snake." North snorted.

"RA9 I wish..."

Markus sighed as the three bickered over which prehistoric animal was the best.

Rex licked the back of his head nearly making him fall over.

---

"This isn't my first dino rodeo if you'd believe it." Asad smiled as he ran a hand over the t-rex's massive snout.

Rex practically purred as it got a lot of attention from the elderly man and the YK500 sitting on top of its head.

"He's so big and pretty! He'll get along well with the others, won't he papa?" Bo giggled from atop the mighty android.

"You have a dinosaur dome?" Josh asked in disbelief.

"Indeed. I have gotten calls from several different locations that own all kinds of animal androids. The abuse cases are the worst, but mostly it's just establishments that find deviants too unpredictable to know what to do with them." Asad explained "The dinosaurs I have are from an amusement park. They're all a delight, especially the raptors. They enjoy solving puzzles and going through elaborate maze structures."

"Do you have any titanoboas?" Simon asked hopefully. He'd very greatly enjoy watching one in action.

"Sadly no. The only pair in Detroit was property of the museum and they were reported stolen two years ago..." Asad replied, frowning slightly. "I do wonder what ever happened to them..."

"So uh... What other dinosaurs do you have then?" North kicked a pebble out of the way, feigning lack of interest.

"Well we have a male Carnotaurus named El Diablo. He's a lovely shade of blood red and mahogany." Asad smiled.

"Do you have any Allosaurus?" Josh added.

"A whole group."

"Let us see! Please please please?" North and Josh looked over the moon with the thought of seeing their favorite dinos.

"Certainly! This way to the dome."

Markus watched Mr. Siddiq, North, Josh, Bo and Rex walk off while Simon sulked ever so slightly besides him.

"Aww... I wish there were titanoboas..."

"Simon, you practically own a Jurassic terror already... Your python is terrifying." The RK200 shuddered at the thought of those beady red eyes glaring at him.

"Oh he's not. He's a very sweet snake once you get to know him." Simon shook his head in disagreement and crossed his arms.

Markus considered this before shaking his head. Between the ornery and possessive albino reticulated python and a group of massive dinosaur androids, he'd rather take his chances with the less aggressive dinos.

#eps writes:#fanfic #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh markus #dbh simon #dbh north #dbh josh #dbh connor #hank anderson #carl manfred #carl's new caretaker

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professortennant · 5 years

Text

SG1 Rewatch: The Enemy Within

forever bitter they killed kawalsky because i love his and jack’s relationship and i love even more hammond’s insufferable sigh and ‘you go where i tell you to’ while sam hides her smiles/looks up and off camera

my illustrated companion tells me the only reason they killed kawalsky was because they wanted the dude who played kawalsky in the movie but he didn’t wanna do a series so they killed kawalsky and offered it to him but he STILL didn’t wanna do it so they hired a new dude AND TBH!!! BRING!! HIM!!! BACK!! kawalsky will feature in all my fics forever and ever amen

god bring back the lowkey turtleneck bc HELLLOOOO that’s a good look for jack/RDA

jack ‘i’ve known teal’c for 5 minutes and i would DIE to protect him’ o’neill

earth doesn’t deserve teal’c tbh like what a good egg

‘it’s kind of a human thing. we tend to be afraid of things we don’t understand.’

‘you will show me this world?’ ‘you bet. not all at once, though. it’s big.’ *thinks about all the first experiences teal’c is having in the world rn--ice cream and ferris wheels and concerts and swimming and fireworks and...*

man i really want the USAF SG1 green bomber jacket sam wears and i know they sell it for like 400 dollars that i do not have :(

aw remember when they called it the embarkation room

the good thing about this rewatch is i forgot the steps they took to make sure no one was a goa’uld--MRIs every time? no one tell me i wanna find out again during the rewatch

was charlie named after kawalsky or just happy coincidence?

‘permission to barge in, sir?’

protective!jack makes me all warm inside

‘seeded among the stars’ always makes me scrunch my nose cuz ew seeded

tbh really wished daniel had been the one to be taken by kawalsky cuz like....we just had a pilot ep where sam was talking about proving her worth and then in the next ep she’s taken hostage and knocked out and just....i know the next ep thats coming and ugh it was a rough first few eps for sam (which i assume is pre-amanda tapping telling the writers what’s up)

also ‘sam is hurt real bad we need to get her to the infirmary now’ + cues to kawalsky. WHAT ABOUT SAM jfc

poor kawalsky :(

this goa’uld is named kree isn’t that like....the general....word for like everything lame

i forgot janet wasn’t in the first few eps!

sam and jack already sitting next to each other :’)))

PAPA HAMMOND!! SUPPORTING!!! HIS TEAM!!! HERE FOR IT!!!!

okay the rest of this ep is boring but YAY teal’c saves the day

god jack :((( poor kawalsky. and RDA swooping in with the teary eyes to slay me because yah jack needs to lose more people right

the goa’uld falling out of kawalsky’s ear and like sizzling on the gate ramp ewwwww

i wonder if hammond and the president just talk on the phone sometime

THE FIRST TIME SG1 WALKS UP THE RAMP INTO THE GATE CATCH ME CRYING FAM :’))))

man what a kinda boring episode overall but i understand its narrative purpose woo

#sg1 #stargate sg1 #the great 2019 rewatch #long post

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smartgirlsaremean · 7 years

Text

The Reluctant Guardian - Chapter 10

Fandom: OUAT

Pairing: Rumbelle

Rating: T

Summary: Roderick Gold is about to complete his revenge on the Jones family by inheriting the family fortune and estate, but to his surprise there is one late acquisition: Jones was guardian to a young woman, and that guardianship now falls to Gold. Determined at first to marry her and make absolutely sure all of the Jones assets are under his control, he soon discovers that there is much more to Bella French than meets the eye.

Belle French values nothing so much as her independence, and would far rather die an old maid than lose even a moment of freedom. Her new guardian is intriguing, though, and the more she learns about his past the more questions she has. His reputation doesn't quite match her own observations, and while she would love to uncover the mystery that is Roderick Gold, she must be very cautious lest she reveal her own secrets and ruin her own plans.

AO3

Chapter 10 - Blackhall gets a visitor and Belle learns a little about her guardian's history.

Belle paused over the washing and brushed her hair off her brow with one arm. The summer heat made this task unpleasant, but she took pride in her work. She was now able to keep herself and the others in clothes that were clean and well-pressed, and she had even learned not to starch linens and handkerchiefs until they were stiff enough to stand on their own. In particular, she liked to see Mr. Gold wearing clothes she had washed and mended herself; there was an intimacy in that, in having handled garments that touched his skin, and while Robin took care of his most private clothing, she was responsible for the snow white of his shirts and the spotless quality of his coats.

Robin came into the laundry just then with a basket of linen and grinned at her. “Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Oh, yes,” Belle huffed, “perfect if one wants to die of heat.”

“You must have brought the sunshine with you. We haven’t had so fine a summer in this part of the country in years.”

Belle laughed and began twisting the clothes to wring them dry, dropping them in the basket when she could wring no more water from them. Her hands, red and chapped from the lye, stung, but they were stronger now than they’d been a month ago, and she was prouder of them than she had been when they were white and soft. Robin began heating water for his own laundry.

“I daresay Mr. Gold agrees,” Robin said casually, and Belle’s head snapped around.

“Pardon?”

“That you brought the sunshine with you. Lord knows he lights up bright enough when you enter a room.”

Blushing, Belle returned to her work. “Don’t be absurd.”

They worked in silence for a few moments, Robin rocking a bit on his heels as he waited for his water to heat.

“Has he been your guardian long?”

“No, and he won’t remain so for long either. When I come of age I will come into my fortune, and I won’t need his protection any longer.”

“When will that be?”

Belle grimaced. “March.”

Robin laughed. “Bella, it’s only July. You have nine more months of his guardianship. Provided you don’t marry first, of course.”

Shaking her head, Belle left the washtub and moved her basket aside so that Robin could empty the tub and refill it with hot water. “I don’t plan to marry, at least not for any reason but love. Can you think of many young men who would love a bluestocking with red hands and a pistol strapped to her ankle? Even a fortune can only take me so far.”

“Not many young men, no. Young men are notoriously foolish creatures.”

Belle laughed and lifted her basket, turning for the door.

“However, young men are not the only men at your disposal.”

Surprised, she faltered, nearly losing her grip on the basket. “What? What do you mean by that?”

Robin shrugged and tipped the hot water from his kettle into the basin. “Only that, perhaps, an older man - say, one who appreciates a well-read, independent lady - might be a better match for you.”

“Well, if you ever meet such a man, you are welcome to introduce us,” Belle said haughtily.

The laundry door opened at that moment and Mr. Gold looked in. “Fitzooth, do you have my…”

“Yes, sir, all here,” Robin said cheerily. “I was only waiting for Bella to finish.”

Gold’s eyes flicked to where Belle was standing by the garden door and the lines of his face softened. “Ah. Good morning, Bella.”

“Good morning, Mr. Gold.” Belle was grateful that the laundry was so warm that any change in her color could be attributed to the heat. If their adventure chasing after Robin had softened him, his demeanor after her encounter with Nott had become downright warm, and Belle was not sure what it meant.

“Do you, ah, need…” he indicated the door, and Belle nodded, deliberately ignoring Robin’s wide smile as Mr. Gold crossed the room and opened the door, gesturing her through. She murmured her thanks and escaped into the warm, fresh air, her cheeks still hot.

As she hung their clothes on the line, Belle tried to determine why she felt so out of sorts. She had considered her guardian attractive from the first, and the air of mystery that hung about him intrigued her. In the month since, she had learned a great deal about him, but she was still no closer to discovering why the people in and around Blackhall hated him so. He was prickly and overbearing, but he was not cruel. He could be demanding and exacting, but kind, gentle Robin appeared perfectly content in his role as valet and general man-of-all-work, and never had an unkind word to say about his employer. Furthermore, Gold had never given her reason to fear for her safety or her virtue, so Mrs. Potts’s claim that he was a lecher made even less sense than the rest.

Pinning the last shirt to the line, Belle let out a huff of frustration. If he would only talk to her about things other than her studies and the books she was reading, she could perhaps learn more, but he shied away from discussing anything personal. However, he had been slightly more forthcoming that night in the library. Perhaps darkness and whiskey made him more comfortable, and another late-night rendezvous was in order if she were ever to discover the truth.

Best to keep that little plan secret until it had come to fruition, Belle decided. If Sophie discovered that she was planning to corner a man in a library in the dead of night and partake of liquor with him until he spilled his secrets, she would lock her in her room and throw away the key.

Gold realized he had been standing by the garden door a little too long when he heard Fitzooth clear his throat. Stepping back in and letting the door swing shut, Gold tried to leave the laundry without further incident, but Fitzooth’s voice brought him up short.

“She’s a remarkable lady, our Miss French.”

Fitzooth was always careful to refer to Bella as “Miss French” before Gold, although Gold knew that Bella had invited everyone in the house to call her by her Christian name. It was an oddity that had rendered Mrs. Potts nearly speechless and caused Dove to blush to the top of his bald head. If she were otherwise utterly uninteresting, Bella’s penchant for flouting convention and etiquette would have endeared her to him. As it was, she combined that disregard for polite restraint with ready wit, keen intelligence, and bottomless compassion, and he enjoyed her company far too much.

“I daresay she won’t have much trouble finding a husband, for all she’s a little odd.”

Gold’s jaw clenched and he tried once again to leave the room.

“Of course, she does not necessarily need a husband, but London is a big city. Who’s to say she won’t meet someone able to appreciate her unique qualities? I think it’s more than likely.”

Turning cold eyes on Fitzooth, Gold asked, “Do you always gossip about your employers like a fishwife?”

Grinning, Fitzooth shrugged and scrubbed at the laundry once more. “Conversation is scarce around here, sir. Until Mrs. Potts can find more servants, I’m afraid I’ll have to take what I can get.”

Rolling his eyes, Gold left the laundry, determined to give neither Bella nor Fitzooth another thought until forced to do so. He was crossing the vestibule, determined to go over the accounts in the library, when the bell rang. For a moment he stood in the hall in indecision, but Mrs. Potts had gone to town, and Bella and Fitzooth were evidently otherwise occupied. Sighing, he went to the door and opened it himself. When he saw his visitor, he felt his draw drop.

“Bae?”

The young man stared back, equally flummoxed. “Papa?”

“What are you doing here, son?” Gold asked.

“You wrote to me that you would be here for the summer.” Baeden stepped inside and looked around the empty hall. “Where is everyone?”

“Gone, all except Mrs. Potts, Dove, and a few new additions.”

Bae stared at him, a frown line etched between his eye. “What did you…?”

“Nothing,” Gold growled. “They were gone before I arrived.”

Realization dawned on his son’s face, and he dropped his gaze.

“Why are you here, Bae?” Fear suddenly gripped his heart. “Is it Emma? Is something the matter?”

“No, no, Emma’s quite well, though she is thoroughly tired of her situation.” Baeden smiled. “She says she can’t wait to get a real night’s sleep again.”

Relaxing, Gold led his boy into the drawing room, where Miss Hammond sat mending. She stared when they entered and pushed her work to one side, out of sight. “Mr. Gold! I heard the bell, but we have so little company…”

“No matter,” he said. “Miss Hammond, this is my son, Mr. Baeden Gold. Bae, Miss Hammond.”

Bae looked more puzzled than ever, but he shook Miss Hammond’s hand. The lady took pity on him and, when he had taken a seat, said, “I am companion and friend to Mr. Gold’s ward, Miss French.”

“You have a ward , Papa? You didn’t mention…”

“A recent acquisition. Jones was her guardian for only a week, and because I was his sole heir, the charge fell to me.”

Baeden smiled again, more warmly. “You, the guardian of a young lady? That must be interesting.”

“Oh, it is,” Miss Hammond agreed. “They’re at odds half the time, and talking about heaven knows what the other half.” She seemed to relax, pulling out one of the stockings she’d been darning. “At supper last night they spoke a great deal of the time in Latin.”

“You’ve met someone who loves that dead language as much as you do?” Bae laughed. “Is the girl here? I’d like to meet her.”

“She is, and you’ll meet her at dinner. That is, if you’re staying. Are you staying, Bae?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave now for the world.”

Belle hurried down the hall. The ironing had taken more time than she’d expected, and she was dangerously close to being late for dinner. News of the arrival had reached her - Marian had mentioned it, as had Robin and Mrs. Potts - but she had yet to meet Mr. Baeden Gold herself, for which she was thankful. She’d rushed to dress properly, and perhaps her hair was not done as neatly as it could be, and she knew her dress was not in the first stare of fashion, but at least she wouldn’t look the kitchen drudge. She was not ashamed of the work she did at Blackhall, for she liked to know that she was contributing, but she wanted Mr. Baeden to think well of her.

Exactly why it was important that she make a good impression she would have been hard-pressed to explain.

Her steps slowed a bit as she neared the dining room, and as she turned the final corner, she collided hard with something warm and firm. Hands cupped her elbows and steadied her, and she looked up into familiar brown eyes set in a swarthy, good-looking face.

“Easy, miss,” he said, setting her carefully away from him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I didn’t want to be late, and…”

“I’m late, as well, nothing to apologize for,” the man said. He looked at her properly, his eyes going wide. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“Bella French. You must be Bae...Mr. Baeden.” Belle swept him a curtsey. “I’m…”

“My father’s ward?” He studied her for a moment, and then smiled. “You’re not quite what I expected.”

The clock in the hall chimed and Belle jumped. Baeden swept her a low bow and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Whatever Baeden’s reasons for visiting, Mr. Gold looked unwilling to question his presence. He smiled more readily and spoke more gently, and Belle felt herself growing even fonder of him, warmth suffusing her cheeks whenever he smiled her way. Baeden drew her out, asking about how she passed her time, her studies and pursuits, and telling stories from his time as a boy at Blackhall. He was personable and charming, and Belle found herself wondering why he would choose to stay in London, so far from the home of which he had so many happy memories.

“I don’t think Mrs. Potts has ever forgiven me for those stains,” Baeden chuckled as he concluded his story.

“Nonsense, Bae, Mrs. Potts would forgive you nearly anything,” Gold said dryly.

Belle smiled as she remembered the housekeeper’s face when she gushed about young Master Baeden finally returning. It was clear that whatever animosity she held for the elder Mr. Gold, that ill feeling did not extend to his son.

It was the most pleasant evening Belle had spent at Blackhall. She should have been pleased as they all sat in the drawing room smiling and chatting and drinking coffee, but instead questions to which she dared not give voice burned on her tongue, and she could scarcely keep her seat from agitation. Nor was she the only restless soul in the room. Although Mr. Gold spoke calmly and even smiled on occasion, she could see his fingers drumming restlessly on the handle of his cane and the occasional twitch of his mouth. At long last Sophie moved to go to bed, and Belle joined her, her heart thumping in her chest as she contemplated what she meant to do.

After changing into her nightgown and dressing gown, Belle hovered by her door, listening intently for footsteps. There were none, and she slipped out of the room and padded silently down the hall and the stairs to the library. Her steps slowed as she reached the heavy door and she saw a faint stream of light flickering from within. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.

“Bella?” Mr. Gold was seated in the same armchair, a tumbler of whisky in his hand, his face covered in confusion. He half rose, concern flitting across his features. “Are you quite alright? Have you had another nightmare?”

“No,” she said quietly. The door closed with a soft click, and Mr. Gold looked wary, a muscle ticking in his jaw as his eyes swept over her. “I wanted...I hoped to speak to you.”

He swallowed visibly and stared at the glass in his hand. “Oh? About what?”

“Your son.”

Gold relaxed a little, but eyed her carefully. “Bae would be more than happy to answer any of your questions, dearie.”

“I don’t think he would,” Bella said thoughtfully. “At least, he probably would not answer them honestly.”

He felt a flare of anger. “You accuse him of falsehood?”

“No. I think he would try to shield me from the truth.” Bella stepped forward, uncowed by his glare, and poured herself a measure of whisky. “He is a very kind gentleman, very honorable and chivalrous. I’ve known men like him. They like to spare ladies’ delicate feelings.” She pronounced the last words as if they were the worst sort of insult, and Gold tried not to smile. Gracefully Bella lowered herself into the chair next to his and took a sip of her drink, her face pensive and almost sad.

“He speaks as if he had a very happy childhood here,” she said at last.

“I believe he did.”

“Why did he leave? Why do he and his wife not live here with you?”

Gold turned the glass in his hand and considered how much to tell her. “I’m a difficult man to love, dearie, and more difficult to live with. Baeden and his Emma had little choice but to distance themselves from me if they wanted any chance of a good life.”

“I’ve had no difficulties living with you,” Bella pointed out.

“Haven’t you? Don’t we quarrel on a near-daily basis?”

“Well - yes, but you aren’t quarrelsome with everyone. With Sophie you’re even rather gentlemanly.”

“‘Rather’ gentlemanly! There’s a fine compliment,” Gold snorted.

Bella rolled her eyes heavenward. “You know what I meant. You only snarl at me because you know I don’t really mind it - and I can answer you back without fear. You’re often prickly but you’re not cruel, and Mr. Baeden clearly loves you. What is the real reason?”

Gold sighed and tossed back the rest of his whisky, then rose to pour another measure. “You will not accept the easy answer, will you?” he asked.

“My Papa would roll over in his grave if ever I did.”

He chuckled at that and sat back in his chair, studying the amber liquid in his glass. Bella waited silently, patiently, and he had to admire her tenacity. Besides, though she was young and idealistic, he did not think she would betray him. Oddly, he felt that he could trust her. “My reputation in this town - in this part of the country, really - is...unsavory, to say the least, Bella,” he said at last.

“I know that,” she said with a little impatient wave of her hand. “Mrs. Potts was quite open about that the first morning.”

“Well, if you know, we needn’t have this conversation,” Gold snapped. “Surely she told you all - the brawls, the drunkenness, the lechery. What other explanation could there be, dearie? Don’t I look the part of an uncouth sinner?”

“Don’t growl at me,” Bella said firmly. “Reputations are often exaggerated, or even false. You haven’t been in your cups once since we arrived here, you’ve only ever physically attacked a man who was attempting to steal from you, and I’ve never feared for my virtue - or indeed, for my safety in any way. Not with you. Either you are a very inept sinner indeed, or the gossips have it wrong.”

He could not help staring at her as she defended him, her eyes flashing and her chin raised. When he did not respond she raised her eyebrows and he shook his head slowly before looking away and studying the carpet.

“I’m none of those things,” he said gruffly, “you are right about that, dearie. What I am, is something worse. I am a coward.”

“A coward?”

“Aye. Havenae you wondered how a Scot like me came tae inherit a fine Englishman’s manor house?” he asked, deliberately thickening his brogue. “We came here because we couldnae stay in our village - or in any village once my secret got out. Farther and farther south we came, ‘til the shame of my cowardice could nae longer follow us.”

“I don’t understand,” Bella said, leaning on the arm of her chair and studying his face. “What were you afraid of?”

“Leaving my wife unprotected, my boy without a father. This,” he gestured at his ruined ankle, “was a ploy tae keep me away from the fighting.”

“You injured yourself,” Bella whispered, “to avoid serving in the army?”

“Precisely.” He took a long drink and then sank further into the chair. “They couldnae prove it, or I’d have been shot. But everyone knew I hadn’t been thrown from a horse and trampled. Everyone knew.”

“I do so hate the word ‘coward,’” Bella grumbled, glaring into her drink. “What exactly is so brave about leaving your family without protection while you fight men with whom you have no quarrel? A true coward - a true coward fights someone who cannot fight back. A true coward protects herself at the expense of others.”

“What?” Bella clutched her glass with a trembling hand and raised it to her lips to drain it. He watched with some alarm as she reached for the decanter. “Bella, I don’t think…”

“You don’t have a reputation for cowardice in the village,” she said tartly as she poured another generous measure into her glass. “Why do they think you a beast?”

“Perhaps you should…”

“Have you ever caused someone you love harm in order to preserve your own dignity?” She took another long drink and he winced.

“No, I…”

“Have you sat in a room knowing that a word from you could end your loved one’s suffering and found yourself unable to utter it?” Another long drink.

“Bella…”

“Then what, Mr. Gold?” she snapped, standing up and swaying rather alarmingly on her feet. He rose and grasped her arms, steadying her. “What did you do that was so terrible? Why do they hate you?”

“Because Cillian Jones hated me.” His patience snapped and he bared his teeth. “He was cuckolding me and swindling his father, and he couldnae decide which he wanted more, so he tried tae do both. If he wanted tae inherit he couldnae run off with my wife, so he tried tae make me leave, tae paint me the libertine and the villain. He ran up debts in my name, paid his victims tae say I’d debauched them, did his level best to make life unbearable for me, but I knew him and Milah too well. I’d not leave Bae to their tender mercies. I stayed. I stayed and God help me I protected them, shielded them, but when I found out he was stealing from his own father I knew I had him.”

“What did you do?” Bella asked softly. Her hands were on his arms now and her thumbs were tracing soothing circles through the fabric of his sleeves.

“I told him he could stay and face his father, or he could leave. He chose to leave, but he took Milah with him. Their ship ran into a storm and they were both lost at sea.”

He had not loved Milah when she died, had not loved her for years, but her death had still come as a blow to him. With a sigh he sank back into his chair, startled when Bella followed him, kneeling at his feet, her hands now clutching his.

“Oh, dear,” she breathed. “But he - with him gone didn’t -”

“Didn’t the rumors stop? Oh, no,” he smiled grimly. “You see, Milah was so very unhappy with me. Dearest Cillian was only trying to help her escape me, and he was a sainted hero who died trying to free a lady from a beast.”

“So none of it is true,” Bella whispered.

“Some of it is,” he corrected her. “I am strict with tenants and merchants, I do drive a very hard bargain, I never accept excuses or grant reprieves. I am not, by any measure, a nice man, Miss French.”

“Perhaps not,” she agreed, her eyes shining. “But I think you are a good man.”

“You’d be the first.”

She shook her head slowly, her eyes locked on his, and he felt heavy, weighed down by her gaze. Her hands were warm and steady in his; he ran his thumb absently over the back of one of them and suddenly something shifted in her expression. Her lips parted ever so slightly and her breath quickened and he watched with wide eyes as she moved forward, her gaze flickering down to his mouth.

The chiming of the clock caused them both to start, and Gold pulled his hands from her grip and fell back into the chair. “Go to bed, Bella,” he said gruffly.

“I don’t want to,” she said, rising again.

He stood as well, slightly unnerved when she did not step back. Not for the first time in his life he wished he were taller. “It was not a request.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and her eyes swept over him from his eyes to the toes of his boots and back up again, leaving him feeling rather overwarm. His breath quickened and his heart pounded in his ears as she took the smallest of steps forward and the skirt of her nightgown brushed against his legs.

“Must I?” she whispered. “May I not stay here?”

“Yes. Ah - no. I mean…” He closed his eyes and stepped back in an attempt to break the spell she’d cast on him. “Please, Bella. Go.”

He heard her give a little huff of indignation, and then the warmth of her receded as she walked away. He opened his eyes in time to see her open the door of the library and toss one last heated glance over her shoulder. “This conversation is far from over, Mr. Gold,” she said sternly. She slipped out of the door and he let out a long, shuddering breath.

God in heaven, she would be the death of him.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #the reluctant guardian

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auskultu · 7 years

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Fest a California 'Dream-In'

Phillip Elwood, Billboard, 8 July 1967

MONTEREY, Calif. — Last act on the Monterey International Pops Festival (June 16-18) was the Mamas and the Papas, and in Mama Cass’ introduction of “California Dreaming” she probably captured the spirit of the whole event: “the weekend is like a dream come true." she said. And the whistles and cheers of 7.500 fans emphasized their concurrence.

It was 12:30 a.m. Monday: the fading minutes of nearly 22 hours of stage performance spread over an exhausting three-night, two-afternoon schedule. Over 30,000 seats had been sold for the Monterey weekend and another 30,000 young people (by police estimates) had taken advantage of the Festival’s extra-arena events and strolled under the oaks, through the booths and displays and gotten out to the Monterey Peninsula College athletic field where, most of the nights until dawn, various rock bands performed for the fog-chilled kids in their bed rolls and sleeping bags.

Significantly, it was not the performances on stage which made the greatest impression on most of the veteran observers of the concert and pop music scene: it was the festival concept itself, and the total capturing of the very best in today’s younger generation and those willing to accept its philosophies as an alternative to extinction.

It was this spirit which made the Monterey Pop Festival a success and because of this feeling of gentleness, restraint and love the audience behavior inside the crowded arena (and their enthusiasms) were strikingly significant.

When standing ovations occurred they had been earned; none of the automatic huzzahs from bcered-up and demonstrative egocentrics.

More than 30 acts performed on stage, including an exquisite three-hour presentation by Indian sitarist Ravi Shankar, who had all Sunday afternoon to himself.

It matters not what many people think about Indian palace music as part of a pop music program; what does matter is that over 5,000 young people sat in awe and spent those three hours contemplating the artistic contribution of Shankar.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience, from Britain, making its American debut (altho Hendrix is from Seattle) proved to be more experience than music, pop or otherwise. Accompanied by overmodulated electronic feedback squeals and bombastic drumming, the Hendrix performance is quite a crowd rouser but its sensationalism is not music, and unlike Chuck Berry (who was doing some of this stuff 15 years ago), when Hendrix sings he has trouble with phrasing, and his modal-turned chicken choke handling of the guitar doesn’t indicate a strong talent, either.

The only other sensational performance at Monterey came from the Who, an excellent quartet with an out-ofsight drummer in Keith Mooh. Their lyrics are fascinating, and clear; they ran through a noisy set (including a roaring “Summertime Blues”) and ended with a guitar-smashing sequence of their own, quite similar to the Yardbird’s bit in Blow Up.

The strongest performance by any of the relatively unheralded groups was that of singer Janis Joplin with Big Brother and the Holding Company, a San Francisco hard-rock blues group. She squeals, and groans, rocks and moans… and utterly tore Monterey apart. She was queen of the Festival.

Saturday afternoorf was devoted to various blues and hard-rock bands. Other than Big Brother, et al., Mike Bloomfield's’ new Electric Flag, Paul Butterfield’s band and the Steve Miller Blues Band were the strongest, with Country Joe and the Fish (one of the few local groups to have kept an informal sense of humor in their presentations) and the Quicksilver Messenger Service also (at least occasionally) driving their stuff home.

Eric Burdon and the new Animals played on the opening Friday night show.

Most important part of the Festival was the style of instrumental work used by the blues-rock groups. Individualists are emerging, with imaginative creations. Their music is just as much for listening as dancing, and under many circumstances would be called jazz, not rock. For instance, when Al Kooper’s group, with Al on Hammond Organ got into the blues, and the Grateful Dead (Pigpen McKernan on Hammond) went off into 20-minute blues medley variations, there was nothing, aurally, to indicate that this was part of a rock-and-roll, or pop concert at all. It was experimental music based on the blues, and that’s jazz.

The Blues Project has long worked in that area, using amplified flute and a jazz line on many tunes, and they were interesting in their short Monterey appearance.

On the other hand, when the Jefferson Airplane brought down the house on Saturday night it was because of their creative work within the field of rock. The Airplane were the most finished and consistent group that played during the whole Festival.

Simon and Garfunkel ended the first evening’s show with a delicate and immaculate set, "At the Zoo,” a beautiful "Emily” (by Art Garfunkel), “Sounds of Silence,” a few others, and then a 16th century Benedictus, done a capella, and finally a sensitive "Punky’s Dilemma.”

For absolute contrast, Otis Redding ended the next night’s show, well after I a.m. with a few minutes of his classic stuff. His appearance had been delayed by the long show, in which the least effective group of the whole Festival (Hugh Masekela) played the weekend’s longest set (55 minutes).

But when Redding came on, it took him exactly four beats in two seconds to get 7,500 voices screaming and chanting with him. Booker T and the MG’s supplied strong accompaniment.

Unfortunately Redding was the only representative of the Negro blues tradition and the only R&B entertainer in the Festival.

True, Lou Rawls put on a superb demonstration of his road show technique during the first evening’s concert but Rawls isn’t r&b. Significantly, however, Rawls was the only performer to include what many Americans would call "popular music”; i.e., "Shadow of Your Smile," "Autumn Leaves,” and his now dully stylized medley based on "It Was a Very Good Year."

Balancing the slick Rawls performance was that of Johnny Rivers, who presented virtually a vocal history of the earlier days of rock, from rockabilly through plain folk rock. Rivers did a fine job but the Festival and crowd were too immediately hip, too sophisticated, to give him much response.

Because of this predominately hard-blues-rock feeling in the crowd, some performers which would normally do quite well didn’t seem in the right place.

The Association, Moby Grape, Buffalo Springfield, and even the Mamas and Papas were, if anything, too popular in style for this Festival. And the Byrds, although they played well, felt it necessary for David Crosby to deliver a sophomoric political commentary prior to their playing of "He Was a Friend of Mine."

The Byrds were not nearly as close-knit as the Buffalo Spring-field, who roamed along through a fine tight set, including "Pretty Baby Why” and “Bluebird.”

The Grape was unstrung, it seemed; big smiles, lots of stage-hip, but nothing in the way of powerful and imaginative performance to compare with many of their San Francisco colleagues.

Another recent big-label San Francisco recording group, the Grateful Dead, had ideal program billing (midway Sunday night) but partially blew it by playing too long. The Dead are among the most musically intriguing of any rock groups, but they seem to be straying from the typical dance format more quickly than any of the others.

The performances of the Paupers, Canned Heat, the British singer Beverly, and Laura Nyro, didn’t measure up, for one reason or another, and Hugh Masekela was a disappointment.

The Festival could have been better handled, but, in retrospect, it seems irrelevant. The important thing is that a "warm, groovy and beautiful festival” (as Ralph Gleason had it in The San Francisco Chronicle) was held with all kinds of exciting stage incidents and no kinds of problems elsewhere. The San Francisco Examiner said of the Festival, “An unqualified success, speaking well not only of the musicians but of the beautifully behaved and attentive audience.”

Co-directors John Phillips and Lou Adler and their fleet of aides and assistants somehow got it all done.

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girlsbtrs · 5 years

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The Unsung Godmothers of Rock

Wrapping up Black History Month has made me reflect as an African American woman. Black History Month is a very important month for so many African Americans because it allows room for conversation about past and present contributions, accomplishments, and social issues of African Americans. In the early 1900s, African Americans were discredited from their contributions, unfairly uncompensated, and forgotten about because their race was seen as less than. This commonly occurred in the music industry, an industry in which, at the time, was profoundly unjust.

Fortunately, times have changed for the greater and although it still has its flaws, the music industry now recognizes and honors the individuals behind the music of the past and present. Let’s shine a light on the 3 African American godmothers who broke barriers to pave the way for the next generation of young African American female musicians.

Libba Cotten

Elizabeth "Libba" Cotten, best known for her song "Freight Train," was born in Chapel Hill, North Carolina on January 5th, 1893. During her childhood, she taught herself how to play the banjo and guitar. She reversed the instruments to make them easier to play left-handed. She saved up $3.75 to buy her first guitar. Due to her religious upbringing, she was encouraged to give up playing secular music. Later on in life, with a stroke of luck, she had the chance to turn a hobby into a professional music career.

While working at a department store in Washington, D.C., Libba discovered a lost child and returned her to her mother. The mother was American composer, Ruth Crawford Seeger. A month later, Cotten began work in the household of the famous folk-singing Seeger family. Their daughter, Peggy, saw her playing the family guitar and was amazed by her talent. Mike Seeger began working on recording with her and soon, she was touring and playing small shows in the homes of important political figures including former president, John F. Kennedy.

In 1958 Mike helped her release her first album, Elizabeth Cotten: Negro Folk Songs and Tunes, in which she included her infamous song “Freight Train”. As she gained national attention, Cotten played festivals such as Newport Folk Festival, the Philadelphia Folk Festival, the University of Chicago Folk Festival, and the Smithsonian Festival. Her album, Elizabeth Cotten Live, was awarded a Grammy for the Best Ethnic or Traditional Folk Recording in 1985. She continued to tour until her untimely passing on June 29th, 1987.

Memphis Minnie

Memphis Minnie was born June 3, 1897, in Algiers, Louisiana. Minnie started playing banjo when she was seven years old but, got her first guitar at age 10. Although the average job of an African American woman was in farming and service, Memphis Minnie was never one to follow societal norms and she began to play on the streets of Memphis. One of Memphis Minnie’s first musical partnerships was with Willie Brown, who is is better known for his association with musician, Charley Patton. She and Brown began playing together around 1915 in Bedford, Mississippi. They mixed blues with pop tunes, her favorite cover being “What Makes You Do Me Like You Do Do Do”. She also played for dances and store promotions.

In 1929, she married another guitar-player, Joe McCoy, who was a good singer and guitarist. They were playing together in a Beale street barbershop when a scout from Columbia offered to record them in New York. Their first session was on June 18, 1929, two weeks after Minnie’s 32nd birthday. “Bumble Bee Blues” became the popular song from that session– so popular that Minnie recorded several different versions of it for different labels. In 1939, she married musician ,Ernest “Little Son Joe” Lawlars, who would help her in her road to stardom.

As a working musician, Minnie’s guitar style evolved partly in response to the kind of places she played and the people for whom she played. Poet, Langston Hughes, saw her perform at the 230 club on New Year's Eve in 1942 and was impressed by her sound. Over the next 16 years, she would release many singles including “Downhome Girl” until she suffered from a heart attack in 1957 and lived in a nursing home until she died on August 6th, 1973, at the age of 76.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe

Queer musician, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, (born Rosetta Nubin) was born March 20th, 1915 in Cotton Plant, Arkansas. Her love of music began when she was a child due to her father and mother being singers. Growing up in a church setting, she picked up the guitar at age 4 and would sing and play along with the choir. She quickly gained attention under the name “Little Rosetta Nubin: the child prodigy”. At the age of 6, she travelled with her mother as a part of a traveling troupe that performed across the southern United States and developed fame for being a young, female, African American guitar player.

In the mid-1920s, Tharpe and her mother settled in Chicago, Illinois, where she continued to occasionally traveled around the US to perform at church conventions. In 1934,Tharpe married preacher, Thomas Thorpe, and he bandwagoned on tours with her and her mother. On December 23, 1938, Tharpe performed in John Hammond's “Spirituals to Swing” Concert at Carnegie Hall. By performing gospel music in front of secular audiences, blues and jazz musicians , and conservative religious circles was unusual and controversial due to the mere fact of a woman performing guitar music was frowned upon. In the 1940’s, she recorded non-gospel hits like "Shout Sister Shout," "That's All" and "I Want a Tall Skinny Papa." "That's All" was the first record on which Tharpe played the electric guitar and would have an influence on Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley.

Tharpe spent the remaining two decades of her career touring Europe and the United States, primarily playing gospel music. In 1960, she performed with with James Cleveland at the Apollo in Harlem and also performed in 1967 at the Newport Jazz Festival. While on a European blues tour with Muddy Waters in 1970, Tharpe suddenly fell ill and returned to the United States. She suffered a stroke shortly after her return and, due to complications from diabetes, had to have a leg amputated. Though she would go on to perform for a few more years, she suffered a second stroke and passed away days later, on October 9, 1973, at the age of 58, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Although these 3 iconic women have passed away, their legacy will never be forgotten. They continue to inspire many young women of color to not only play the guitar but, break barriers and move mountains by doing what they love.

- article by Aliyah English

#industry spotlight #black history #black history month #aliyah english

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mylittleredgirl · 2 years

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by season seven, papa general hammond is actually un-shockable

#we grade weirdness on a curve here at the sgc #getting premonitions in your dreams you say. well you returned from the actual dead a month ago #so we're just gonna skip the part where we ask if this makes sense and move on to step 2 #stargate sg1 #sgwun

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badstargateimagines · 1 year

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Stargate Characters and The Nicknames I’d Give Them

And if they’d like them or loathe them.

Jack: Jack-Jack Attack because of the Pixar Short that came on the DVD for The Incredibles. I mean, he’s Jack and he attacks. I think he’d be a little confused at first but would then find it oddly endearing. I’d show him the Pixar Short and then I think he’d either really love it or wish I was never born.

Sam: I am calling this woman The Brain (Short for The Brains Of The Operation) because she has a brain the size of the fucking moon. I think she’d pretend to hate it but would appreciate as recognition of her abilities.

Daniel: Danger Dan because that man is in constant peril. Dude what the fuck is wrong with him. I think he would hate it but everyone else would think it’s hard as fuck. I would probably also inadvertently call him Dane when I’m annoyed because that’s my brother’s name and I often accidentally call people Dane when I’m irritated with them. Consequently, Daniel would be too confused to say anything until he figured out what was going on. After that, I think he’d laugh at me.

Teal’c: I would call him Toph cuz it sounds like tough. Again I don’t think he’d fully grasp why I’m calling him that but I think he’d find it endearing. I would show him who Toph is and he’d get confused until he saw her abilities and then he’d be like yo this is sick.

Cam: Cammy Coke-Bottles because I already have a friend I call Cammy Coke-Bottles because of his glasses prescription and I don’t think I could break the habit. (I promise you my irl friend a) thinks it’s funny and b) knows I am also not legally allowed to operate heavy machinery without my own coke-bottle glasses) I think Cam would find it really confusing at first but with context would be mad that he doesn’t even get his own nickname

Jonas: I am calling this man Nick or Kevin are you kidding me?? That would be hilarious. I would never call him Joe though cuz too many people would think I just shortened his name. I think with context Jonas would find it hilarious. Everyone on base would just think I’m going fucking senile especially since everyone else on the team is way too old to even have heard of the Jonas Brothers.

Hammond: I do not respect the authority of superiors so I would call him Papa Smurf. General Hammond would not like this nickname but would resign himself to it eventually. Everyone else would think I’m hard as fuck for having the gall to call the general by a nickname.

Vala: I would nickname her Linda after Linda Belcher. I genuinely think she would be Linda Belcher kin. I would not give her context at first because frankly I’d be scared of how she’d react but I think she’d just generally love being known as Linda without context. With context, she would be over the moon to be nicknamed after Linda.

#stargate #stargate sg1 #sg1 #bad stargate imagines #daniel jackson #jack o’neill #teal'c #sam carter #jonas quinn #vala mal doran #cameron mitchell #general Hammond

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miketittel · 3 years

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A few weeks ago I received the news that a good friend of mine was tragically killed. The details are brutal and out of respect for his family, I won’t go into them. I’m still struggling to make sense of this myself, but feel compelled to post something to honor a close friend’s life.

“Papa John” Hammonds and I shared many adventures together...countless backpacking/kayaking trips throughout the Pacific Northwest, road trips and ski tours in the Canadian Rockies, an epic 6 week trip thru Patagonia...the list is long and deep. So. Many. Memories. I’ve never met anyone who loved a good backcountry sunset more than Johnny.

Early in my career he was the subject of many of my first published photos...a willing subject with a shared passion for wild places. Most of our inspiration came from his expansive library of guide books over pie a la mode and coffee. I owe the start of my career to his patience with my camera. Selfless, generous and kind to everyone he met, Johnny was always willing to help me pursue my dreams and was game for any trip...especially if it involved one of his many bucket list destinations. In some ways I think he was more excited by my success that I was. Not because of the magazine covers or ads he appeared in but because he genuinely loved seeing a friend succeed. He was so fascinated by the idea of creating a career out of nothing and enjoyed photography himself so frequently asked about the “how’s”.

Over the last decade my priorities shifted when I got married and started a family. My career also shifted away from adventure sports but our friendship remained strong. He was always so excited to hear about my kids, married life and my career. Last year we discussed the possibility of a big kayaking trip in Isle Royal National Park to celebrate my first 20 years in the biz (kind of a full circle thing) but we never got the chance to do it. Although we hadn’t been on a long trip together in a few years I honestly thought someday we would adventure together again. Wishing now more than ever we would have made that trip happen and I would have gotten the chance to tell him what his friendship over the years has meant to me.

Johnny...I will always consider the sighting of a bald eagle at the start of a trip a good omen because of you. I’m going to miss your quirky ways, the way your were always unapologetically yourself, your totally random Christmas gifts, our long catch-up calls and shared musical discoveries. Most of all though your love for travel, other cultures and wild places. It was contagious my friend. Your memory and love for life will live on my friend!

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stargatelov3r · 5 years

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I decided that you need General Hammond on your dashbord today.

#general hammond #papa hammond #Don S. Davis #don davis #stargate #stargate sg-1 #george hammond

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riddimworld2021 · 4 years

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JAM DOWN RIDDIM - VP RECORDS

JAM DOWN RIDDIM - VP RECORDS TRACKLIST: 01 - Copper Cat - Thing Tough 02 - Richie Stephens - Jamaica Land We Love 03 - Various Artists - Peace Cry 04 - Version - Jam Down

JAM DOWN RIDDIM – VP RECORDS 2000

Riddim Artists Tracklist:

Papa Michigan & General Smiley – One Love Jam Down

Buju Banton – Love Needs

Capleton – No Guns

Cecile – I’m Waiting

Chezidek – Herbalist

George Nooks And Beres Hammond – Peace Cry

Jah Cure – Sticky

Kelly – Always

Lutan Fyah – Mightier Than Dem

Morgan Heritage – Plant Up Di Herbs

Vegas – Burn It

Perfect – Cant Get Enough

Pinchers – Seal…

View On WordPress

#Richie Stephens

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soccernetghana · 4 years

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Ghana Football: Where is the DNA that Gave Birth to the Talents of the Past ?- Part I

[caption id="attachment_24468" align="aligncenter" width="466"] The next generation of Ghana players want to emulate their 2009 double-winning colleagues[/caption] By Aristo Dotse Where are Ghana's natural football talents gone to? Where is the DNA that gave birth to the uncountable gifted talents that graciously graced Ghanaian football so rampantly in the past and brought so much success and pure happiness to our football? These are some of the telling observations and pertinent questions that have confronted Ghanaian football, especially the local game, for some good time now. It is indeed a curios matter to ask this interesting question of why Ghana no more get or bring up the brilliant football players it used to. It seems a bit ludicrous when you consider that there are currently quite a good number of Ghanaian players, most of whom form the core of the current Black Stars team, playing in Europe and elsewhere. Even, on quantity level, the number of current Ghanaian overseas players far outnumbers that of the supposedly good old days. However, only one, just one player Thomas Partey - a regular and a top player at Spanish giants Atletico Madrid - is a top Ghanaian name in Europe at the moment, although Jordan Ayew at Crystal Palace in England is also doing quite well. Thus, the quality of the recent and present generation of Ghanaian players, those of today and especially of the last ten to 15 years, particularly on the local front, leaves a lot to desire and is a serious matter opened to question and discussion. Again, where are our talents gone to? Where is the DNA that gave birth to countless of them over the years in the distant past? ''The quality of Ghanaian players of today and especially of the last ten to 15 years, particularly the local ones in particular, leaves a lot to desire and is a matter opened to question and discussion. Where is the DNA that gave birth to the countless gifted talents over the years in the distant past?'' Fantastic players all over Let's not even talk of the countless Ghanaian greats of the past starting from the likes of James Adjei, Charles Kumi Gyamfi (better known as C.K. Gyamfi), Baba Yara, Aggrey Fynn, Osei Kofi, Addo Odametey, Ofei Dodoo, John Eshun, Dodoo Ankrah, Malik Jabir, Robert Mensah, Wilberforce Mfum, Edward Acquah, Jones Attuquayefio, Ibrahim Sunday, Mohammed Ahmed 'Polo', Abdul Razak, Adolf Armah, Mama 'Acquah' Musah, Peter Lamptey, Robert Hammond, John Nketiah Yawson, Opoku Afriyie, Ofei Ansah, Awuley Quaye, John Baker, P.S.K Paha, Dan Owusu, Kwesi Owusu, Joe Dakota, Anas Seidu, Joe Odoi, James Kuuku Dadzie, John Bannerman, Windsor Kofi Abbrey, George Alhassan, Owusu Mensah, Hesse Odamtten, Haruna Yusif, Seth Ampadu, Samuel Opoku Nti, Kofi Badu, Albert Asase, Addae Kyenkyenhene, Joe Carr, Emmanuel Quarshie, Justice Moore, Francis Kumi, Sampson Lamptey, Abedi 'Pele' Ayew, Anthony Yeboah, and the other uncountable quality players always dotted in every team in the country. Those days are long gone when one happily went to the stadium or sat behind TV to watch the so many wonderful players like Papa Arko, Opoku Sampene (nicknamed Maradona), Isaac Nana Eshun, Kwesi Appiah, Sarfo Gyamfi, Emmanuel Akwetey (Joetex), Isaac Acquaye, Abdul Aziz (Rikichiman), Ben Kayode, Olabode William, Issah Alhassan, Philip Tagoe, Rauf Iddi, Henry Acquah, Abu Umar (better known as Abu Imoro), Salifu Ansah, Mohammed Odoom, Kwabena Asiedu, Emmanuel Quarshie (nicknamed Abega), Anane Kobo, Kwesi Bonsu, Geoge Lamptey,Joe Amoateng, Alhaji Bello, Isaac Ayipey, Sam Ayipey, Ibrahim Meriga, Ebo Smith, George Arthur, Santrofi Acquah, Emmanuel Sackey, Ayitey Dormon, Asare Boateng, Shamo Quaye, Joe Debrah, Anthony Osei Kwadwo Mensah, Ablade Kumah, Ezekiel Alamu, Bernard Aryee, Thomas Boakye, Thomas Quaye, Laud Oscar, Robert Eshun, Michael Osei, Isaac Kwakye, Robert Boateng, Stanley Aborah, Kelvin Essien, Ali Jarra, Frank Amankwah, Richard Naawu, Nii Darku Ankrah, Joe Addo, Frimpong Manso, Emmanuel Armah, Kalilu Dramani, Ali Ibrahim, Mahmoud Ahmed, Kofi Deblah, Adjetey Lee, Alex Nyarko, Sam Johnson, Yaw Acheampong, C.K. Akonnor, Augustine Ahinful, Nii Odartey Lamptey, Yaw Preko, Alex Opoku, Isaac Asare, Baba Musah, Emmanuel Duah, Daniel Addo, Mohammed Gargo, Sebastian Ebo Barnes, Samuel Osei Kuffour, Nii Aryee Welbeck, Joe Fameyeh, Christian Saba, Stephen Appiah, Awudu Isssaka, Abu Iddrissu, Prince Adu-Poku, Joe Okyere, Baba 'Armando' Adamu, Eben Hagan, Emmanuel Yartey, Sanni Wahab, Abdul Issah Rahman, George Blay, Michael Essien, Laryea Kingston, Godwin Attram, Stephen Tetteh, Eric Bekoe, and even Tawrick Jibril. This is painful truth and very sad. Proud landmarks for Ghanaian players Apart from Ghana being the first country to win the African Nations Cup three and then four times, and first African side to win an Olympic football medal and the FIFA U-20 World Cup, Ghana have seen some of its players made the country proud with some remarkable individual feats in African football. C.K. Gyamfi, one of the first topmost players in Ghana and coach in three of Ghana's four African Nations Cup titles to become the first of two coaches to win the competition three times, was the first African to play professional football in Germany. He signed for Fortuna Dusseldorf in 1960. When the famous 'France Football' magazine started to give the African Footballer of the Year award in 1970, Ibrahim Sunday, a talented midfielder who captained Kotoko to win the African Cup in 1971 and also coached them to victory in 1983, won the second edition in 1971 as the first Ghanaian to be crowned. Robert Mensah, seen by the older generation as Ghana's best ever goalkeeper, placed second to Sunday. Around the same time in 1972, defender John Eshun captained an African XI side for the Brazil Independence Cup, an invitational international tournament called 'Mini Copa' by the Brazilians to mark Brazil's 150th independence anniversary celebration. Together with Egypt, Ghana had the highest contingent of three players in the 18-man squad that also played in the Afro-Latin Games in Mexico. The other two Ghanaians were forwards Edward Acquah and Malik Jabir. That was a long time, a quarter of a century, before Abedi Ayew, the ‘Pele’ and maestro of African football, emulated Eshun and led Africa as captain and inspirer to beat Europe in a specially arranged friendly game as part of the European Union's Year Against Racism' observance in January 1997. He didn't only score the opening goal, a wonderful chip over great Dutch goalkeeper Edwin van der Sar, in the 2-1 victory at the famous Benfica Stadium of Light in Lisbon but also shone, as usual, with his brilliant all-action performance in Portugal. The former Ghana captain had earlier shone brighter, winning the UEFA man-of the-match award in his side Olympique Marseille's victory over AC Milan in the 1993 European Champions League final, to become the first African to achieve that feat. Cameroon's Samuel Eto'o emulated that achievement in 2006. And it was Abedi's second European Cup final, making him again the first African outfield player to feature twice in the final after Zimbabwean goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar (1984, 1985), before compatriot Samuel Osei Kuffour became the second and so far last Ghanaian to replicate it in 2001. Abedi Pele also won the first CAF African Footballer of the Year award in 1992 to help him become the first three-time winner of the African Player of the Year title the following year. And when the BBC began their African Player of the Year award in 1992, he was again the first winner, long before his son and current Ghana captain Andre ‘Dede’ Ayew succeeded Asamoah Gyan, winner in 2010, in 2011. Meanwhile, Gyan is proudly still Africa's all-time top scorer in FIFA World Cup history since 2014. It's a shame that since Abedi last won the African Footballer of the Year crown in 1993, no Ghanaian player has won it 27 years on. Only three players have been able to come close, Samuel Osei Kuffour (1999, 2001), Michael Essien (2007) and Gyan (2010) being unlucky as runner-ups - same feats by Adolf Armah and Opoku Nti in 1979 and 1983 respectively. Essien was also third in 2008 as was Andre Ayew in 2011. Another proud moment for Ghana was the Black Stars' 3-3 draw with Alfredo Di Stefano and Ferenc Puska's Real Madrid in August 1962. That was the great Madrid team that won the first five European Cups, from 1956 to 1960, but Ghana was a real match for them at the Accra Stadium. The same venue also witnessed another memorable moment in 1969 when Accra Hearts of Oak held Pele's Santos of Brazil to a 2-2 draw in a friendly game. With Pele, the best player in the world at the time and still widely regarded today as the greatest ever, Santos - who were regarded the world's best team in the 1960s - were Brazilian champions for five consecutive years (1961-1965) and 1968, South American and world (inter-continental) champions in 1962 and 1963, and inter-continental super champions in 1968. But they could not beat Hearts on their African tour in a match the Ghanaian giants would have won if not because of a perfect third goal disallowed. Golden era It is true that within the last 14 years Ghana have played in three consecutive FIFA World Cups, between 2006 and 2014, after the Black Stars failed to qualify for even once during the preceding eras when Ghana was supposed to have all the great players in its history. During this somehow golden era of the 2000s when Ghana made lots of headway in world football, the players of this good time for Ghanaian football at international level are truly some of the finest players in the country's football history. Thus, names such as Stephen Appiah, Asamoah, Gyan, Michael Essien, Sulley Muntari, John Mensah, John Paintsil, Richard Kingson, and Andre Ayew and to an extent Mathew Amoah, Kwadwo Asamoah, Kevin-Prince Boateng and Anthony Annan will always be mentioned as some of the great players in the annals of Ghanaian football mostly for their World Cup exploits. To be continued........................................ source: https://ghanasoccernet.com/

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