#british battles on land and sea

[illustratus]

Lord Grey of Wilton’s charge at Pinkie

#lord grey #william grey #cavalry #cavalry charge #knight #knights #lord grey of wilton #history #art #english #scottish #england #scotland #battle of pinkie cleugh #british battles on land and sea #volume 1 #british #britain #armour

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

I Want To Kill Her

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 2

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink.

Word Count: 6,773

Growing up in America was a constant uphill battle for me. Every day, my family's lower middle class status weighed heavily on our shoulders, dragging us down and suffocating any sense of hope. Despite my parents' relentless efforts, we were always one step away from financial ruin. At school, I was painfully reminded of my economic disadvantage as I trudged through the halls in threadbare clothes and drove up in a battered car that served as a target for cruel jokes and vicious teasing from my more privileged peers. But amidst the constant struggle, I found refuge in my studies. The world of academia offered a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of my daily life, where I poured all my energy into excelling and proving my worth to a society that seemed determined to keep me down.

Life in our small town was like a broken record, repeating the same monotonous routine day after day. That is, until Teddy waltzed into our midst like a breath of fresh air. His tall frame stood out amongst the sea of ordinary faces, and his crisp British accent was music to our ears. The local coffee shop suddenly became a buzz of excitement as he charmed everyone with his wit and sophistication. And when he extended an invitation for me to join him in London, it was like a fairytale come to life. Leaving my predictable life behind and starting anew in the bustling city seemed intimidating, but I couldn't resist the allure of adventure and passion that awaited me with Teddy by my side.

My hand shook as I clutched the small, worn suitcase. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye to my family and familiar life. But deep down, a sense of determination propelled me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plane bound for London. As the engines roared and the wheels lifted off the ground, a knot formed in my stomach and my heart raced with a mix of emotions - fear of the unknown, excitement for new adventures, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, double-paned window and watched as familiar buildings and streets grew smaller and smaller. A sense of relief washed over me, lifting the weight of my past struggles and hardships with every mile we flew away from them. Little did I know, the journey ahead would be filled with new challenges and lessons that would shape me into the person I was always meant to become.

As we soared higher into the sky, thick clouds began to spread like a blanket over the vast expanse of blue. The world below disappeared from view, hidden by layers of white. But as we descended towards London, small patches of land began to peek through - rolling hills covered in lush green fields and charming villages nestled along winding rivers. My heart fluttered with excitement and curiosity at this glimpse of a foreign land.

The wheels touched down on the runway, jolting me out of my daydreams. I took a deep breath as we taxied towards the terminal, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life in a place that felt both unfamiliar and full of endless possibilities.

The bright lights of London beckoned me, a stark contrast to the small town I left behind. Teddy, my generous host, had spared no expense to make me feel at home in his lavish house. Each morning, I woke up to stunning views of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The enticing scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled my nostrils, reminding me that this was a life of luxury that I never could have imagined.

But what truly amazed me was the fact that I no longer had to work. Teddy's successful business ventures meant that money was no longer a worry for me. This newfound wealth allowed me to indulge in all the things I could only dream about before. My wardrobe was now filled with designer clothes, fancy dinners were a regular occurrence, and luxurious vacations were just a plane ride away.

However, amidst all this extravagance and joy, there was always a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Growing up, every penny counted and financial struggles were a constant source of stress for my family. Now, with my newfound wealth, I couldn't help but feel guilty for having so much while others back home still struggled to make ends

I fiercely pushed all doubts and apprehensions aside, determined to fully surrender myself to my newfound life. And by all appearances, I succeeded. Teddy whisked me away on dazzling tours of the city, revealing hidden gems and indulging in the finest cuisine known only to elites. He also opened the door to his elite circle of friends – powerful individuals who radiated confidence and wealth wherever they went.

At first, I felt like a mere observer among them. While they boasted about their latest investments and business ventures, I could only offer anecdotes about my humble beginnings in a small town. But as weeks turned into months, they welcomed me into their exclusive inner circle. They even included us on extravagant trips abroad where we mingled with A-list celebrities and attended VIP events.

I couldn't believe how rapidly my life had transformed since meeting Teddy. Where once I was ridiculed for not fitting in with the wealthy crowd, now I lived among them, basking in their luxurious lifestyle.

But amidst all the glitz and glamour, a persistent voice gnawed at the back of my mind. It started one afternoon while Teddy was tending to the front yard. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary chore for a homeowner, but something about it felt insidious and unsettling.

Despite the hired help we had to maintain our lavish property, Teddy insisted on taking care of menial tasks himself. At first, I thought it was just his need to be hands-on, but as the days turned into weeks, I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on the woman next door. Every time she stepped outside in her form-fitting gardening attire, he would drop whatever he was doing and watch her with an unbridled hunger. Her movements were like a sensual dance, each step oozing with an irresistible seduction that captivated him. She seemed to know exactly how to entice him, bending over suggestively in her garden while his eyes greedily took in every curve of her body. But when her husband's luxury car pulled into their driveway, she would become a picture of innocence once again. It was a tantalizing game of desire and secrecy, leaving me wondering what they truly did behind closed doors.

Rosie, the woman of the house, was a force to be reckoned with, her love and dedication to her garden rivaling that of a mother's fierce protection for her child. Harry, her husband and successful entrepreneur, exuded a confident aura as he walked through their flourishing gardens, the beauty brand he created known by all as Pleasing. Despite our similar ages, their maturity and put-together appearance made me feel inadequate in comparison. Our own home seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to theirs, always offering an unobstructed view of Rosie's constant tending to her bountiful gardens, a sight that also caught my husband's wandering eyes. But it was impossible to deny the allure of their well-manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant hues and intoxicating scents that enveloped us in a hypnotic trance. 

Each passing week brought a new wave of torment as I watched Teddy's eyes dart towards Rosie's garden, his gaze lingering on her while she tended to her roses. My stomach twisted with jealousy as he made excuses to be outside, his every move calculated to catch her attention.

I couldn't bear the thought of him longing for someone else, and my heart shattered into pieces with each stolen glance towards her. Desperate for answers, I confronted him about their relationship, but he dismissed my fears with a cold indifference and insisted they were just innocent neighbors. But deep down, I knew there was something more between them, and it consumed me with a fiery rage that threatened to consume us all.

As I relaxed in the comfort of my home, the noise from outside suddenly jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped to the window overlooking the busy street below, and there I saw Harry's sleek black Mercedes screeching into their driveway, its engine roaring wildly. Rosie appeared in the doorway, her movements frantic as she planted a forced kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside with an urgency that made my heart race. The door slammed shut behind them, and a foreboding sense of dread settled in my gut as I realized that something was seriously wrong between them. Whatever was happening, they were clearly trying to hide it from prying eyes.

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread as I made my way downstairs, my curiosity burning like a wildfire. The front door slammed behind me, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind my back. My feet carried me across the short distance between our homes, anticipation building with each step. As I approached their front step, muffled voices drifted through the open window above me, a sinister soundtrack to my racing thoughts. I could make out Harry's tense tone and Rosie's pleading replies, but not the words themselves. Their hushed argument went on for what seemed like an eternity before falling silent, leaving me standing frozen in shock. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what was happening. Had my suspicions been correct after all? Were Rosie and Teddy entangled in a secret affair that Harry had finally uncovered? The weight of the truth hit me like a sledgehammer, filling me with a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear for what would

My thoughts were racing as I tried to decide what to do next, but before I could make a move, the front door swung open with a loud bang. My heart jolted in my chest as Harry stormed out, his face contorted with either seething anger or burning embarrassment - it was hard to tell which was more intense. He didn't even spare me a glance as he brushed past, heading straight for his car.

Just then, Rosie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock when she saw me standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a wild mess, betraying some sort of frantic activity behind closed doors. "Oh...I-I didn't realize you were home," she stammered, her voice trembling with unease. She attempted a smile, but it fell short and I could see the fear in her eyes.

Before I could ask what was going on, Teddy burst out of our house and called out my name. He sprinted towards us from across the street, his brows furrowed with concern as he took in the sight of Rosie and I standing together. The tense atmosphere was thick between us all, and I knew something serious was about to go down.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern as he eyed us both suspiciously.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, feeling like a pawn in their complicated game. "Do you?"

Teddy and Rosie exchanged a tense look that spoke volumes about their troubled relationship. I could sense the weight of their secrets and lies pressing down on me, suffocating me with their toxic grip. Without another word, I turned and fled back inside, trying to escape the tangled web of deceit and betrayal they had woven around me. My once glamorous new life now felt tainted with suspicion and heartache.

I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with rage and disbelief. My worst fears have been confirmed - Teddy and Rosie were having an affair all along, right under my naive nose. A surge of hot tears fills my eyes as I collapse onto the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. How could he do this to me? After all we've built together, all the love and trust we shared. 

My mind races back through the past few months, dissecting every encounter between them that I had brushed off as innocent. His lingering looks at her, her secret smiles directed only at him, their hushed conversations that would abruptly end whenever I appeared. The pieces finally fit together, a puzzle of betrayal and deceit that I was too blind to see. How long has it been going on? Was it when he started staying late at work for that promotion? Or when our once effortless conversations turned into strained silence over dinner? My world is shattered, and I can't help but wonder if it was ever truly as perfect as I believed it to be.

My body curls in on itself, a protective barrier against the pain that radiates through me. My mind is stuck on replay, the tense exchange between them echoing endlessly in my head. Rosie's desperate pleas, Harry's explosive anger - it all points to betrayal. 

The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks as I realize I can no longer ignore the truth. My heart aches with every beat, but I know I have to confront Teddy. Pretending everything is okay between us is no longer an option. 

As I stand up and make my way to the front window, I catch a glimpse of Teddy crossing back over to our house, his defeated posture screaming guilt. The anger and hurt fueling my determination, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable confrontation. 

When Teddy steps into our living room, the air crackles with tension like static electricity before a storm. The unspoken truths between us hang heavily, suffocatingly thick like a dense fog. 

"Why don't you just admit it, Teddy?" My voice trembles with a mix of rage and despair.

He responds with words sharp as shattered glass, "Admit what? That you're so blinded by your own insecurity that you'd accuse me without any proof?" His betrayal cuts deep, adding more pieces to the already broken shards of my heart.

My hands balled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I struggled to contain the raging storm inside me. "Don't you dare try to twist this around on me! I saw you, Teddy. I saw the way your eyes linger on her, like she's the only thing that matters."

Teddy's jaw clenched and his calm façade cracked, giving way to a simmering anger. "You're being paranoid. Rosie is just a friend, nothing more."

I took a step closer, my voice dripping with venom. "Oh please, spare me your excuses. I've seen how you look at her when you think I'm not looking."

Fury burned bright in his eyes, his voice rising in a challenge. "How dare you accuse me of cheating? I would never do that to you!"

Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head in disbelief, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "It's not just about today, Teddy. It's been building up for months. The way you ignore me and shower her with attention... It's like I'm invisible to you now."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh please, stop playing the victim here. You knew what you were getting into when we moved here.You want me to make you feel like you exist? Do you want me to fuck you? What do you want? You’re so needy you put your issues onto other women."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure in the face of his callous words. "I thought I was getting into a life with someone who loved and respected me. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back to screw the neighbor."

The tension in the room reached its breaking point as Teddy's mask slipped completely, revealing the raw emotions seething beneath the surface. "Maybe if you were more exciting, more adventurous, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere for some excitement in my life!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in disbelief and pain. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, an invisible barrier that seemed impossible to breach.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered hoarsely, the finality of those words echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once again with resolve. "Fine then! Maybe this is for the best. Actually, yeah it is. Bitch." he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

And with those parting words echoing in my ears like a curse, I turned away from him and headed towards the door, leaving behind our shattered dreams and broken promises in a trail of fractured memories.

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Harry sat in his sleek, black car, parked precisely outside of his modern fortress. I approached cautiously, trying to mask my trembling steps on the pavement. With a gentle tap on the window, I could feel his intense gaze burning through me from within the tinted glass. His phone slipped from his hand as he rolled down the window, revealing a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity. A commanding voice cut through the silence, "Get in." Without hesitation, I made my way around to the passenger side and sank into the plush leather seat next to him, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

As we drove away from the chaotic scene behind us, the tension in the car was suffocating. Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to be coiled with a fierce determination, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. I stole a quick glance at him, noticing how his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a dangerous edge, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.

A heavy silence hung in the air of the car, suffocating me as I struggled to catch my breath. Harry's voice pierced through the tension like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my racing thoughts. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression etched with genuine concern.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt constricted and choked. Finally, I managed to whisper, "I don't know." My mind was reeling from the events that had unfolded only moments ago.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his words heavy with understanding. "Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us," he mused, his tone grave and contemplative. "But it's how we handle them that defines who we are."

I turned to look at him, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos raging inside me. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For being here for me."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, but there was a glint of steel in his gaze. "You don't have to thank me," he replied firmly. "I'm here because I care about you and because your husband is sleeping with my wife." His reassurance was met with a sense of relief and gratitude amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume me.

The stillness between us was palpable, a fragile thread holding back a storm of emotions. The road stretched out before us, winding through fields and forests, as if it were leading us towards a new beginning.

My heart felt heavy with the weight of our shared past, but in this moment, with Harry by my side, I could feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Together, we drove into the unknown, leaving behind the pain and hurt that had consumed us.

But as we reached our destination - a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere - the tension returned. Harry's exhaustion and frustration were etched on his face as he turned to me.

"I know neither of us want to go home right now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "For fuck's sake, they're probably sexing each other up as we speak.." A surge of anger and betrayal rose within me at his words. "Let's just stay here for the night, maybe two. We can regroup and come up with a plan." His proposal hung in the air like a dark cloud, reminding us both of the uncertain future that lay ahead. But one thing was certain - we wouldn't have to face it alone.

My voice caught in my throat, unable to form words as I simply nodded, a tight knot of fear and anger coiling in my stomach. My body trembled with the intensity of the situation. We both knew that any misstep could cause everything to spiral out of control. The motel seemed like a fitting backdrop for our strained emotions, its dilapidated exterior reflecting the state of our relationship. The neon lights flickering ominously, casting a sickly glow over the peeling paint and broken windows. But even this rundown place offered some respite from the suffocating chaos and turmoil surrounding us.

Panicked and unprepared for the situation I found myself in, I regretted not packing a change of clothes as my heart raced and my mind spun with fear. The events that had just unfolded left me gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of chaos. As we rushed into the rundown motel, I couldn't help but scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. The flickering lights and musty smell only added to the ominous atmosphere. Harry snatched the key from the grimy front desk man and led us down a dimly lit hallway to our room. My anxiety spiked when they informed us that the only available room featured a single king-sized bed. My nerves were on edge at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Harry, his intimidating presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension between Harry and me was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.

"I'll take the floor," Harry offered gruffly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a heavy blanket.

I shook my head, unable to accept his sacrifice. "No, we can share the bed. It's fine," I replied softly, trying to ease some of the strain that weighed on us both.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. "Alright then."

The room felt suffocatingly small as we settled in, the walls seeming to press in on us from all sides. The shadows danced ominously in the dim light, casting eerie shapes across the worn carpet.

"I never thought we'd end up here," I mused quietly, breaking the somber stillness that enveloped us.

Harry's voice was gruff as he responded, "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect it."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Seems like we're both striking out lately."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our complicated situation hanging heavily over us. The sound of distant traffic seeping through the thin walls served as a reminder of the world outside our little bubble of chaos.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry you're going through this. You deserve better."

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since we had arrived. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that caught me off guard.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold despair that had settled in my heart. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's company. 

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of our circumstances still heavy on our shoulders but somehow more bearable with each other's presence. The flickering lights outside cast fleeting shadows across the room, adding a sense of fleeting impermanence to our shared moment of respite.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice genuine and heartfelt.

Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between us in the midst of turmoil. "Me too," I whispered, feeling a sense of hope blooming in my heart despite the challenges ahead.

And so we sat together in the dimly lit motel room, two souls seeking solace in each other's company amidst the chaos that threatened to tear us apart.

My phone began to buzz incessantly in my hand, Teddy's name flashing on the screen. I couldn't bear to see his name or hear his voice, so I forcefully shut off my phone and flung it across the room with a violent toss. As it clattered against the wall, Harry's quiet voice pierced through the air.

"She called me too," he seethed, his fists clenched at his side. "In this moment, I could kill her."

I nodded in agreement, my blood boiling with rage. "Teddy had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous and then suggest that if he just fucked me, my jealousy would disappear," I spat out, feeling both hurt and incensed by his words.

Harry's voice dripped with desire as he turned towards me, his gaze burning into my skin. "Would it?" His words were a challenge, daring me to answer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he leaned in closer.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Would what?"

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he spoke the words that sent a shiver down my spine. "If he fucked you, would you still be so jealous?"

My heart raced at the vulgar question and I let out a nervous laugh. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Harry. Nothing could change how I feel."

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in his voice. "The timing of this is fucking terrible. I've always thought you were stunning, wondered what you saw in a guy like him. And I know I could give it to you so much better."

Our eyes locked in a heated moment and I couldn't deny the sparks that flew between us. But as tempting as his offer was, I knew I couldn't betray my feelings for another man.

I glanced up at him through my lashes and saw the raw intensity in his gaze. It was clear that he wanted me. But we both knew it could never be more than a forbidden fantasy.

“What if we had our own affair, you know, to get back at them.” He said with a smirk.

My heart pounded in my chest like a wild animal in a cage at his words. An affair? The thought sent waves of scandalous delight and sinful anticipation coursing through my veins.

"An affair, Harry?" I repeated tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch in my throat. The charged silence that hung between us was as intoxicating as the raw desire smoldering in his gaze.

Leaning closer, Harry's lips brushed against my earlobe as he whispered huskily, "Yes, an affair, just like what they did. Us, sneaking around, feeling each others bodies." His hot breath fanned over me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

The room seemed to shrink around us as Harry moved impossibly closer, his hand finding its way to my knee. I watched as his fingers traced patterns along my thigh, desire flooding me with each small movement.

Harry's thumb traced a line up towards the apex of my thighs, igniting sparks wherever it made contact with my flesh through the thin material of my skirt. My body instinctively rose to meet him and I let out a soft gasp.

"You want this," he murmured heatedly against my neck before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my core clenched at his actions. 

"I...I..." I stuttered, struggling for words as heat pooled low in my belly. He chuckled darkly at my loss for words before returning his attention back to where his hand had slowly began creeping upwards again. His warm touch was like an electric shock, leaving behind a trail of molten desire.

Without another word, Harry pushed up my skirt and slipped his hand into my panties. His fingers brushed lightly against me and I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to my core. He grinned wickedly at me and slowly began to stroke me, his skilled fingers setting my senses ablaze.

"Harry," I moaned out, clutching at his arm as he expertly worked me into a bundle of nerves. His low chuckle did nothing to ease the escalating tension.

His finger easily slipped inside me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion. Harry pumped his digits inside me slowly at first, but quickly sped up when I let out a needy gasp. The pleasure was overwhelming and soon enough, I clenched around him, a shuddering orgasm ripping through me.

I fell back onto the bed, panting heavily as aftershocks still tingled throughout my body. Harry wiped his glistening fingers on my skirt before smoothly pulling it back down. He then lay next to me on the bed, his smirk evident in the dim light.

"That's just a taste," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes. 

"I can't wait to claim you as mine," Harry whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart raced as he trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to suckle a tender spot just below my earlobe. His hands moved sensually over my body, teasingly tracing patterns on my skin before gripping me tighter.

Desperate for more of his touch, I moaned and arched into him. He took that as an invitation and gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head roughly. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he saw me bare-chested for the first time. I blushed at his appreciation but internally preened at his reaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled lowly before capturing one of my nipples between his lips and sucking hard. My back bowed off the bed as I let out a keening whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He had a way of making me feel wanted and desired like no one ever had before.

He moved lower, kissing and licking his way down my stomach until he reached the hem of my skirt. With a swift movement, he yanked it up over my hips, baring me completely to him. His eyes darkened even more when they met mine again, full of lust and possession.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded softly yet authoritatively. I hesitated for only a moment before complying with his request, feeling incredibly exposed but also powerfully aroused by the thought of pleasing him in any way possible.

Harry took advantage of this vulnerability by thrusting two fingers deep inside me without any warning or preparation. I gasped at the intrusion but didn't stop him from exploring deeper within me. Instead, I clenched around his fingers instinctively while moaning out his name in ecstasy. He chuckled softly against my inner thigh before reaching between our bodies to stroke himself in time with his rhythmic fingering of me.

"You're so tight," he groaned approvingly. 

As Harry thrust his fingers deeper into me, I couldn't help but moan louder. His fingers curled inside me, searching for my sweet spot while his other hand gripped my hip firmly. My body shuddered with pleasure as we moved together in this intense rhythm.

"You feel so good," I whispered between breaths. "Please don't stop."

He chuckled darkly before biting down softly on the lobe of my ear, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His hips picked up speed, grinding against me as he groaned in approval.

"That's it, baby girl," he growled. "Take what you want."

His words ignited something deep within me, making me even more hungry for his touch. I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer still. Our skin slapped together in sync with each swift thrust and retreat as we moved together like two bodies meant to be one.

"Oh fuck, you're driving me wild," he whispered into my ear before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back sharply. The sudden sting shot straight to my core, intensifying every sensation tenfold. He released my hair just as quickly and crashed his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss that left me panting for air.

We moved from the couch to bed floor where he pushed me down onto all fours before kneeling behind me. One hand gripped the base of my spine while the other caressed its way up my inner thigh towards my core again. He teased me mercilessly with his fingers as he trailed hot kisses down my spine and back up again, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

"I know I'll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before," he muttered darkly into my ear just before slamming himself deep inside me from behind in one powerful stroke that made me cry out loudly at both surprise and pleasure. In response, he gripped both sides of my face roughly yet tenderly and claimed my mouth once more in a fiery kiss that went on forever or at least it felt like it did until our bodies became entwined.

I could feel his cock hardening in his pants and I needed it no matter how wrong it was.

He gripped my hair tightly and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You're mine to fuck however I want." Wanting more than anything to feel his cock deep inside me, I moaned in agreement.

Pushing me against the bed, he roughly lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his free hand, he pushed his hard and heavy cock into me. I cried out at the intense pleasure shooting through my body as he began to thrust slowly yet powerfully in and out of me.

"Say you want it," he growled against my ear. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Please," I whimpered. "Fuck me hard."

His answering groan sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins as he slammed into me with all his might, claiming my mind and body as his own. The force of each thrust sent jolts of electricity through every nerve ending i body, leaving me breathless and begging for more.

As he continued to pound into me, I couldn't help but moan his name. His thick cock stretched and filled me, hitting my sweet spot with each powerful thrust. I felt my walls start to quake, ready to explode with pleasure as he took control of our encounter.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at my earlobe. "Just let go."

I clung to him tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the intensity of our lovemaking. Every muscle in my body was on edge, waiting for the release that felt so close yet so far away.

He changed positions again, lifting me up and pushing me against the wall. His other hand gripped my hair tightly as he claimed my mouth roughly in a deep, passionate kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he began to thrust even harder into me. It felt so dirty yet so good to be taken like this.

"You are mine," he whispered harshly between breaths. "Only mine. I bet your husband would be fucking dumbfounded when he sees you filled up with my babies."

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement as he took control completely. This was exactly what I needed - someone strong who would make me feel wanted and taken care of. 

As we moved together in sync, lost in the heat of passion and desire, I whispered back to him between gasps for air, "Please...don't stop."

He replied by grabbing hold of my ass cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he thrust deeper into me. His rough skin rubbed against mine, sending tingling sensations all over my body. With every push and pull, our hips collided, echoing throughout the room.

I could feel him growing harder inside me, straining against the thin fabric separating us. The anticipation was killing me - I needed him to release that cock and fill me up completely. As if reading my mind, he pulled away from me suddenly and spun me around so that I was facing the wall again.

"Not yet," he growled into my ear before reaching down and teasing my entrance with his thumbs. He pushed one finger inside me slowly, then another, stretching me open until three fingers were buried deep inside me. I arched my back involuntarily as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my veins at his tender ministrations on my most sensitive spot.

“Where is your damn phone?” Harry demanded, his voice dripping with urgency. I struggled to lift my head off the bed and weakly pointed to the device lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and strode over to it.

A sinister grin spread across his face as he unlocked the phone and shoved his thumb into my mouth, ordering me to suck on it. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he flipped the phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the tattoos inked on his arm for identification. His next move was ruthless as he pulled up my text messages and sent the photo to Teddy, effectively sending a clear message of dominance over me.

"I'll make sure that bastard knows what he's missing out on," Harry growls, his eyes filled with possessive rage. "You're too good for him, love. A fucking goddess like you deserves to be worshipped and adored, not tossed aside like a used toy." I feel a mix of anger and satisfaction as I realize that I don't need Teddy anymore, not after the wild and passionate night I just had with Harry. He makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

Harry threw the phone back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I could see the fire in his gaze, the intensity of his desire for me. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, gently tugging on it as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, but his touch was firm, demanding. I responded eagerly, meeting his kiss with equal passion.

As we kissed, Harry's hands began to wander, exploring my body with a familiarity that set my skin on fire. He traced the curve of my waist, the arch of my back, the dip of my hips. I could feel myself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. I needed him inside me again, needed to feel him filling me up, possessing me completely.

But Harry had other plans. He broke our kiss and looked deep into my eyes, his expression serious. "Not yet," he whispered, echoing his earlier words. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He lowered his head and began to kiss a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. He teased my nipples with his tongue, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. I gasped, arching my back as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Slowly, carefully, Harry began to enter me once again. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of me. But as he felt me grow wetter, more responsive, he picked up the pace. He thrust deeper, harder, his hips slapping against mine. I could feel myself losing control, could feel the familiar tightening in my belly as I approached my climax.

"Turn over, want to see that beautiful ass of yours as I fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harrystylesau #harry styles fanfiction #harrystylesfanfic #harrystylesfanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry edward styles #harrystyles #harrystylessmut #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #smutty one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist #one direction #hs live #otra tour #love on tour #ceo!harry

[zvaigzdelasas]

[BBC is UK State Media]

The BBC is the first British media to visit the USS Dwight D Eisenhower since it began this mission in November.

"This is deadly stuff," says Captain Dave Wroe, who commands the four US Navy destroyers which provide the extra protection for the carrier.

It arrived soon after Yemen's Houthi's began to target merchant vessels - they say in response to Israel's assault on Gaza.

Captain Wroe lists the threats they've been facing over the past four months: anti-ship ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, unmanned aerial vehicles, unmanned surface vessels, and now unmanned underwater vessels, or UUVs, all loaded with explosives.

UUVs are the latest threat. He says the F-18 jets on board the carrier have recently destroyed UUVs, before they could be launched.

Captain Wroe says the Houthis have posed the greatest challenge to the US Navy in recent history.

"This is the most since World War Two," he says [sic]. That was the last time the US operated in an area where they could be fired upon every day.

The tempo of operations on the aircraft carrier itself has also been unrelenting - with dozens of sorties being flown round the clock.[...]

Up in the carrier's flight control tower, Commander George Zintac, known as the Air Boss, is having to choreograph their movements - with a jet either launching or landing in just over a minute.

He's been in the US Navy for more than 30 years, but says "this is probably the most flying I've done on a deployment - everyday we're flying a tonne".[...]

Unlike the Houthis, they're away from home with few creature comforts. Every meal on board is literally feeding the five thousand. The food bill on the carrier alone is $2m (£1.6m) a month.

Captain Chris Hill, the commanding officer of Ike, says "people need breaks, they need to go home".

But he says they don't yet have dates for when that'll happen. So one of his tasks is to maintain the crews morale and resilience.[...]

Captain Hill says: "It's difficult to define winning and losing in this kind of conflict."

18 Mar 24

[em-dash-press]

How Authors Write Fictional Wars

Some of our favorite novels include wars. They might stretch over a trilogy or build within a single book. Writing one might seem staggering, but it just takes a different planning approach. Use these tips to write a fictional war for your next story and make your readers feel like it really happened.

Foundational Factors to Consider

1. Your Opposing Sides

Wars always have at least two opposing sides. Start there and develop them before deciding if you need a third or fourth side involved. Cover details like:

What does each side want?

What would each side settle for?

What is each side’s worst-case scenario?

What is each side’s hard no? (What wouldn’t they sacrifice or do to win their cause?)

2. Who Supports the Opposing Sides and Why

As a war progresses, each side loses resources. They start running out of money, soldiers, and whatever public support they had when they started the war due to citizens losing their loved ones or sacrificing for the cause.

Your protagonist and antagonist will need to ask for help eventually. Who would support them and why?

There are numerous reasons why someone might pick one side of a war over another. Politics and economics are often the first things leaders consider. The morality behind each side is another factor.

Consider the American Revolution. Many historians believe America would have lost without France sending money, troops, food, and supplies. Why would France support a budding nation over Great Britain? People argue it was because the French:

Wanted to humiliate the British king

Wanted to hurt their British military rival by partnering with America

Wanted to weaken the British kingdom by ending the colonial taxes they benefited from

Wanted to gain power on a global standing by overcoming Great Britain and rising as America’s first ally

These reasons are great examples of what your novel could include. Another country, kingdom, or group could rise in sudden support for your protagonist or antagonist, ultimately throwing chaos into the determined path of war for better or worse.

3. The War’s Terrain

People can break into battle almost anywhere, depending on your fictional world. Your characters could fight:

On land

On sea

In space

In the air

Underground

Online

Some terrain also comes with other considerations. If your war happens on an ocean, will storms and hurricanes affect battles or the ultimate outcome? How will the soldiers and leaders on both sides deal with the weather?

Note these possibilities as you plan your novel. You can add them in as background or crucial plot devices once you have a skeletal structure in place for your story.

Need help remembering everything you’ve imagined? Try making a map and keeping it wherever you write.

4. What Would Make Each Side More or Less Powerful

There’s always something that could give one side an advantage over the other. It’s often in an unexpected way, although you could make the advantage a goal. The bad guys might feel confident in their ability to win, but they have a secret mission to develop a new weapon just to give them a greater advantage.

Other factors to consider would be one side or another doing something like:

Discovering or enacting a magic system

Eliminating a crucial resource their enemy depends on

Removing funding that makes their enemy able to fight by befriending or overcoming their enemy’s financial backers

Changing the positive or negative public perception of the other side’s reason for fighting to change national morale

Doing something that makes one side’s leaders more or less moral (which could change public perception, the soldiers’ vigor, the leadership’s advisory team together, etc.)

6. What Kinds of Conflict You’ll Write

There are two types of basic conflict you’ll likely write when navigating a fictional war. You may not need both if your story is shorter, but adding both makes the plot more realistic.

First, there’s external conflict. You’ll have at least two opposing sides on some kind of battlefield, sneaking around on spy missions, planning surprise attacks, etc.

Secondly, there’s internal conflict. Soldiers might start fighting amongst each other, people in leadership positions could lose trust in each other, citizens might turn on their country’s cause for one reason or another, etc.

7. What Weaponry Your Characters Will Use

The weapons used in your war depend on numerous factors. It will draw from the genre you’re writing, the time period your story takes place, the advancements made in each civilization’s weaponry prior to the war, and any advancements made while the war goes on.

Examples of these could be:

Guns

Swords

Bows

Bombs

Drones

Armed ships

Armed space ships

You should also consider if one side’s weaponry is more likely to change during the course of the war. That’s more plausible if your story or characters change locations where regional cultures use different weapons. Also if the war spans years, people will naturally develop new weaponry during that time.

If you want extra details to daydream about, think about which weapons will become outdated during your story. Some will prove less useful due to complicated usage or cleaning. They also may not work, like if your science fiction characters follow their enemy underwater, but their laser guns require a dry atmosphere to function.

Include Emotional Plot Arcs

Writing always involves some kind of emotional work that results in a plot arc. It keeps the reader engaged by evoking their core feelings. That’s what makes a novel different from a textbook (in a very basic sense).

Work on details like these to find what emotions will be most present and relevant to your story:

Your overall theme

Your characters and what they experience

The action your characters will go through

How the above action will change your characters by affecting their loved ones

What your characters’ goals mean to them emotionally

If your characters’ will undergo things that change their perception of their world, leaders, country, or themselves

You don’t need all of these things to have an emotional plot arc, but they’re relatable human elements that can drive your plot right into your readers’ hearts.

Avoid Some War Story Tropes

Tropes have a bad reputation that I don’t think is entirely deserved. People recognize them as overdone stereotypes, but sometimes they’re useful.

When you’re writing a war, you’re going to have necessary tropes like:

The hero

The unit or squad

The antagonist

What they undergo and who they become is how you make them fresh concepts for your readers.

Some tropes aren’t helpful because they’re what readers expect from every story. If you give them what they expect, your story isn’t as engaging (unless you get the occasional reader who exclusively reads war novels and never tires of overdone tropes).

Keep these in mind as things to avoid, unless you have an ingenious way to make them a brand-new experience:

One soldier dying in another’s arms

A character dying by going out “in a blaze of glory”

Characters using guns in ways that are obviously wrong (i.e., firing more bullets than the gun-type/model holds)

Getting military rank incorrect (if your characters exist in a real-world, already existing military structure)

Injury-proof characters (even your protagonist will eventually encounter some physical harm, whether it’s illness in bad weather or getting shot on a battlefield)

You can check out this great resource to discover more tropes to avoid/consider as you draft your plot outline. 

-----

If it feels like writing a war over the course of a book or a series is challenging, you’re not alone. There’s a lot to consider to make it have an engaging flow.

Keep notes on things like these to develop your story as much as possible before starting your first draft. You can always go back and add or edit things out as needed while developing it. Writers do this all the time—you don’t need to get any manuscript perfect on your first try.

#writing war #writing warfare #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing inspiration #writing community #writing help #writing resources #writing action #writing conflict #writing batlles

[holdupjack]

The Captains Princess

——————

Part 2

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate/Monarchy

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE/SEXUAL INNUENDOS

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

September 18th, 1655

Hermione Granger was part of a well-known and very respected royal family that looked after the island country that fell under Danish rule.

(A/N: I'm talking about Iceland btw, or Islandia if you want to be technical. If I read my history books correctly, which I probably didn't, then Iceland should have been under Danish rule at this point? I'm not sure, just go with it lol)

The island held a Volcano in the southwest, the land around it was now uninhabited, after a horrible tragedy ten years ago.

The mountain had suddenly come to life, spewing ash and molten rock onto the people below. Everyone at the edge of the city was able to evacuate at the time, but most were lost under the hardened rock or simply melted away.

Hermione was eleven at the time, and she remembered watching the smoke pouring over the mountains from her window.

Her mother had ushered her away, closing the window and cooping her up in the library for the entire week.

Yet, she saw what was happening at night.

The sky had gone dark, the lack of the sun and stars caused by ash as it was carried by the wind and into the main city. It covered everything like black paint, forcing everyone to cough and heave as they shoveled everything into wagons, sending it back into the outskirts of the destroyed town.

It took months, but eventually, Hermione was free to roam the city once more. Later did she learn how many of the people had died from the ash and eruption.

The number was staggering.

Now she is twenty-one, well almost, and the population had doubled in size since that day.

Her coronation was to be held tomorrow, on the day of her birth, and where she would take over the kingdom for her father and mother. It wasn't something she was excited about, but she knew it needed to be done.

In all honesty, she wanted to see the world.

She wished to explore the structures of Egypt and the booming colonies of America. Everything she had read in books and newspapers fueled her intrigue to extreme measures, but she had a job to do. Whether she wanted to do it or not.

Hermione now sat in the city garden, the smell of the Lupine flower filled her nose as royal guards stood close by.

Seagulls called over her as she heard the yelling of men and women near the docks, the shade of the Aspen Tree above her made it easier to read the newspaper in her hand.

'Virginia Blockaded By England After Declaring Allegiance To The House Of Stuart'

Hermione knew little about what went on around the world, but it still shocked her with the decisions people made.

"Come on Cap! Why did we even stop at this god-forsaken place?"

The Princess's eyes flickered up to find a group of three walking down the sidewalk nearby.

A woman around her age stood in the middle of them with a wide grin. Two tall men walked on either side of her, they seemed to be twins. One had long hair that was up in a ponytail, while the other kept it almost like a guard's military cut.

"I told you two, we need a new navigator since the last one died in the battle outside the British seas!" She replies as they made their way into one of the pubs. Hermione raised an eyebrow as the group disappeared into the building, the door shutting loudly behind them.

Her curiosity peaked, she wondered how this girl became a captain so young, and had so many questions about the lands outside of her own.

"Excuse me Princess, but we must get you back to the castle. Your mother wanted you to help pick out the last bit of details before your celebration tomorrow" A guard states as he had somehow snuck up beside her.

"Oh yes, let us be going" Hermione mumbled as she stood up and folded the newspaper under her arm. Her eyes stayed on the pub door a few moments longer before she ripped them away.

Yet, she thought back on the Captain.

Only had watched her for less than a minute, but now she seemed to hold her curiosity by the neck.

Maybe she would see her tomorrow?

It was an 'everyone invited' event after all.

——————

September 19th

Hermione sat on her father's throne, wearing a beautiful pure white dress that had originally been her grandmother's coronation dress. The Royal Tailor had taken in it for Hermione to update it to the current times of fashion.

She felt like she was getting married.

Well, she supposed she was in a sense? She was vowing her time, love, and dedication to her country.

The main hall was filled shoulder to shoulder with everyone around the land. Children, adults, and elderly alike all talked amongst each other as servers passed out food and drink.

The coronation wasn't till later in the night when they would crown her at exactly twelve, so she may begin her reign as queen immediately.

Hermione looked down at her lap and sighed softly, she felt as though her life was slipping through her fingers.

A soft whistle cut through the crowd.

She looked back at the party, no one else noticed the call for her acknowledgment, but it wasn't hard to find the whistler.

The Captain from the day before stood at the edge of the crowd, looking up at her with the same grin she wore in the street.

Instead of the normal attire that the women wore, she sported a nice white shirt and some black pants. Hermione could see the passing judgment people gave her as they walked by.

The future Queen raised an eyebrow, to which the Captain nodded her head over to the open balcony near them.

Hermione gave a small smile in return as the Captain disappeared back into the crowd. The royal stood up to follow after, but her mother walked up to her with a puzzled look on her face.

"Who were you eyeing in the crowd? A future husband?" She asks with a slight tease in her voice as Hermione chuckled at the question.

"A new friend, maybe" Hermione replies as she started to make her way into the crowd, her mother raises a brow at her retreating form.

"Getting some air?" She calls after, but Hermione was already too far by the time she did.

The music from the small string band seemed louder on the main floor as people greeted and smiled at her.

As she got to the doorway of the balcony, a guard stopped her with his arm.

"Do you know the woman that is standing out there?" He asks, as she peered out into the night, she could see the back of the Captain's head.

"Yes, and I would like to talk to them in private if you don't mind?" She replies to which he drops his arm and nodded.

He quickly opened the door for her and closed it as soon as she stepped out into the cold air.

"It's nice to finally meet you Queen Granger" the woman speaks as she turned around and smiled again.

"I'm not Queen yet, and please, call me Hermione" she replies as she stepped to the edge of the balcony and looked over the almost vacant city.

"Greetings then Hermione, my name is Captain Y/n Y/l/n. At your service, of course." the woman greets as she held out her hand for her.

Why did that name sound familiar?

Hermione watched her with a playful intrigued stare as she let her hand be taken and kissed upon by the sailor.

"What may I do for you, Captain?" Hermione asks as she felt goosebumps raise from the skin the women had pecked.

The Captain smiled again as she watched the Princess stand at the parapet with her.

(A/N: a parapet is a wall-like structure around a balcony or terrace, saved you guys a Google search.)

"Well, a little birdie told me that you're a prodigy at navigating and that you have helped map out this entire country with your expeditions," Y/n says and Hermione chuckled.

It was true, when she wasn't forced to be cooped up in the castle, Hermione was out mapping and exploring the country. She had journals upon journals in her room filled with sketches of plants, animals, and landmarks.

As you could guess, she had learned from the guardsmen how to use the stars when a compass would fail them in their endeavors

(A/N: btw, didn't know that compasses were invented so early. The first one ever recorded was in 1190. Omg we're learning so many things in this imagine, I love it.)

Her parents were always so worried about killers and thieves when she would plan a trip, but it wasn't like she wasn't being sent out with a small army with her.

"Yes, may I ask why you wanted to know?" Hermione questioned as she stared up at the beautiful night sky. Millions of stars poked through an inky abyss.

"I'll reveal that later on, but before I do, it seems you have questions to ask me" Y/n replied as she smirked at the beautiful royal.

Hermione hummed and thought for a moment, she had many questions, so she had to play her cards right.

"Are you part of a fleet? Or are you a...freelance type of Captain?" the Princess asks discreetly as she heard one of the Guards talking behind the glass door.

"Let's just say I have more fun without a boss around" Y/n replies as Hermione chuckled.

Great, she was talking to a Pirate.

"I'm surprised you haven't recognized me, I've been in the paper recently" the Captain states, causing Hermione to turn to get a better look at her.

Y/n poses as it clicks in Hermione's mind, no wonder her name sounded familiar.

"Wait, are you that Captain that stole almost half of the treasury of Venice?" she replies as Y/n began to snicker quietly as the Princess stared at her in disbelief.

"Ah don't look at me like that! We gave almost all of it back to the people!" Y/n says as she continued to grin at her, to which Hermione just chuckled in astonishment.

"Have you come to steal our treasury then? Distract me while your friends pillage us dry?" she asks with honest questioning, which caused Y/n to laugh softly at her conclusion.

"That's a smart idea, I might have to try it sometime, but no. We didn't come to steal any money from you." she replied as she turned her body toward the Princess, who didn't even look concerned at the fact that she was standing shoulder to shoulder with an enemy of many cities

"Then why did you come here?" Hermione asks as she turned herself towards her mysterious company.

Y/n's eyes travel down her body slowly, the royal felt hot for some reason, it wasn't foreign to Hermione to feel men undressing her with their eyes.

Maybe because it was a woman this time around that she felt...different.

Yet, it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling.

"My crew and I came here looking for the best navigator in this country since we're on a hit list in the other ones," Y/n says as she gazed back up into Hermione sight. The Captain's intrigue in her past time now made a lot more sense.

"Before you even ask, the answer is 'no'." Hermione states as Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Aw come on Princess, I've been watching you at this party all night, and you have been miserable!" Y/n sighs, which sort of reminded Hermione of an annoyed child trying to prove their point.

"I've made a promise to my country-"

"Not yet"

"-and my parents! I'm not going to run off with some pirate Captain that thinks of herself as a modern-day Robin Hood!" Hermione whispers with her own annoyance laced in her words.

"Who said you have to take over anyways?" Y/n asks as she stepped closer, forcing Hermione to take in the sea salt aroma she carried on her skin, which wasn't a surprise.

"No one said! I'm just doing my due diligence to my family-" she was cut off again by the captain's eye roll.

"You know what? Why am I even arguing with you? The answer is 'no'." Hermione whisper yells as she turned on her heel and went to step back into the party.

"When was the last time you did something for yourself?"

This made the Princess pause and turn back around. Her mouth fell slightly at the question that was just asked to her. She has never been talked to like this, and it ticked her off to see that Captain's face was still grinning.

"Excuse me?" She laughs out in disbelief as Y/n jumped up onto the wall around the balcony, and sat down.

"It's a fair question, you seem like you've had all the fun sucked out of you since you were little" Y/n hums as Hermione slightly tripped up on her dress, but walked up to her nonetheless.

"All have you know, I am very fun" she protests with a pointed finger as Y/n just playful smiled at her, trying to keep the conversation going between them.

Why was Hermione even trying to defend her personality from some grinning criminal pirate?

"Also, stop smiling!" She whispers as Y/n looked her over again, letting her lips fall from her toothy grin to a subtle rise of the corners of her mouth.

"I'm sorry Princess, I just find you very pretty" she admits, which caused Hermione to be struck dumbfounded.

Who just admits that after asking a Princess to join their gang of murderous pirates?

"Well, uh, thank you," Hermione says as she cleared her throat, and smoothed down the front of the dress. Her embarrassment from her outburst started to set in, she never got this upset with anyone, and she has sat down with political parties.

"But flattery won't get you anywhere" she states as Y/n picked at a loose string on her pant leg.

"Listen, my ship is docked at the east bay. I'll have one of my men holding a lantern on deck during his patrols, in case you want to visit me before your crowning." Y/n says as she jumped back into the floor and dusted off her pants, pulling out a pocket watch.

"You have two hours before you get crowned and we head off to some new land that people are calling the 'West Indies'. A friend of mine was even able to send us a map of its location, we'll get there with or without you." Y/n states as Hermione's interest seemed to skyrocket again.

"You said that you needed a navigator? Won't you get lost?" She replies as Y/n stuffs the device back in her pocket.

"I'm not just a ruthless Robin Hood Captain with a small army of society rejects, but I'm also a decent enough Wayfinder!" Y/n hums as she went to step towards the door, back into the party. Hermione quickly stopped her with a hand to the Captain's chest, she burned her eyes into Y/n's.

"You'll be lost within a day" Hermione states as Y/n leaned closer, causing their noses to bump slightly.

"Maybe, or we'll be right as rain" she replies as they stared at one another with glares that held different meanings. It's quiet between them as the people in the hall began to sing a drinking song.

"Too bad you'll be marrying yourself off to some child-like man" Y/n mumbled as she let her harden gaze drop, Hermione furrowed her brows at the statement.

A questionable time to bring that up.

"Why do you say that? Do you think you could do better?" She asks with a scoff as the Captain took her arm and began to move them to a secluded corner.

"Much better" Y/n whispers as they hide from any prying eyes in the main hall. Hermione hummed as the woman stepped even closer, their heads tilted to the side as their lips ghosted one another's.

"You say that, but you probably have a different girl in your quarters every night," the Princess says as her hands grasped Y/n's hips in an attempt to steady herself.

Hermione started to question her own intentions at this moment, trying to figure out how their argument turned so scandalous in a matter of seconds.

"I haven't been to bed with another in many voyages, but when I saw you in that garden yesterday, I knew that needed to change," Y/n admits as her body pinned Hermione to the wall behind her.

"You saw me?" Hermione asks as the sailor hummed and pressed a kiss to the corner of the royal's lips.

"My crew thinks I'm just asking you to be our navigator, but I have had my own intentions from the start," Y/n says as she left a trail of kisses down to Hermione's neck.

She should push her away, Hermione knew better than to let a random criminal kiss and nip on her skin like this, but in all honesty...she was enjoying this Captain's touch more than she would like to admit.

"Come sail by my side, be my Princess" Y/n whispers into her ear, sending a shiver down Hermione's back as goosebumps rose onto her arms and her hands gripped the woman's hips.

"I don't know you, or your intentions" Hermione replies as Y/n kissed her jaw, but she ultimately hummed in agreement.

"That's true, you don't know anything about me" she states as she backed away to look at the flushed girl, who looks as if she had dipped her face in red paint.

"But, we have a little bit of time before your crowning, so what would you like to know?" Y/n asks as she stepped away and jumped back to sit on the balcony again.

They could now be seen again by any snooping partygoers and patrolling guards.

Hermione stood up straight as she pushed down the wrinkles on her dress, and brushed away any lint or dirt she saw.

"You!...you should know better than to push yourself onto a Princess!" She whispers as Y/n's grin made its reappearance, almost teasing her to come closer and make it disappear.

Whether from a slap or a kiss, Hermione wasn't certain.

"You could have pushed me away" Y/n replies, making the young Granger pause and try to come up with a valid excuse.

"You caught me off guard"

"Mhm"

Y/n began to quietly snicker as Hermione just huffed and crossed her arms against her chest. She was making herself out to be a stupid bratty princess, and she was not.

"You know that asking someone you find pretty to join your crew and leave her country behind, isn't a very good way to ask them on a date" Hermione chuckles as she started to relax slightly, now finding her smile less irritating as time went on.

"I've never asked a woman on a date before, I use to only pay for their company when I was younger," Y/n says as she shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her dangling feet.

Hermione noted the embarrassed behavior she exhibited, almost like she was insecure that she had to pay for a woman in her bed at night.

"I understand when it comes to society on land, with their prejudices about two women being together." Hermione starts as she thought back on the people who had been run out of their city because of silly ideals.

"Yet, I thought Pirates didn't care? As long as they got their drinks, money, and partners out of it." She asks as she heard a clank of beer mugs and cheers from men inside.

"Of course, they don't care, it's just hard to date another sailing woman, especially if they are part of another ship" Y/n answers with a sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You must have girls on your own crew then?" Hermione questioned as she took a step closer. Y/n look back at her with a laugh and shook her head in quick succession.

"They're like my sisters!" Y/n states, which made Hermione chuckle as well. She guessed that made sense since probably being on a ship for months on end would bring them all closer as a family more than anything,

"Also, all of my crew has lads or lasses back home waiting for them to return" Y/n continues as she laid down on the parapet, one leg swung over the edge while her other foot was planted on the stone, and her knee pointed to the sky,

"Be careful, we're high up" Hermione stated as she stepped closer, her fingers twitched as she stopped herself from grabbing ahold of the girl.

They were just one story up, but it was still high enough to break something.

"I've fallen from the crow's nest of my ship, multiple times! This is nothing." Y/n chuckles as she locked her fingers and puts them behind her head as a makeshift pillow.

"I'm guessing you drank one too many pints?" Hermione asks as her eyes scanned the Captain's body.

"See? You're getting to know me so well already!" Y/n replies as they chuckled together.

"Did you land in the water each time? Or have you somehow not died from that yet?" The Princess asks as her hand finally grasped the hem of her shirt.

"Almost all were in the water, but last time I hurt myself real bad" Y/n replies as one hand snuck out from under her head and hooked a finger around the fabric between Hermione's breasts, pulling her closer again.

They weren't hiding anymore, this was a dangerous position to be in, but maybe that was the point.

Was Y/n trying to get her shunned from the castle for engaging in scandalous behavior with another woman?

A fucked up way to force her to join her crew?

Hermione suddenly backed away and cleared her throat, pushing down her wrinkles again.

"As entertaining as this conversation has been, I must go back to my party" she sighs as her chin went back to being high and mighty, and her back as straight as a wooden beam.

"Do you have to?" Y/n asks as she sat back up, causing Hermione to smile. Her childlike questions were almost begging, like she truly didn't want Hermione to walk away.

"I must, it is my birthday party after all" she replies and Y/n hums as she thought of an excuse for her to stay just a little bit longer.

"Just answer one more question," Y/n asks to which Hermione raised her eyebrow in return as the Captain stood back in front of her.

"Will I see you tonight?"

They stared at one another for a few moments, the air around them was chilly, but a slight heat seem to burn between them.

Hermione then just walked away.

That told Y/n that it wasn't a 'no', but it wasn't a 'yes' either.

She wondered what went through that beauty's mind, and if she knew that she had easily gotten a stoic sailor on her toes.

——————

When Y/n had arrived back at the port with no one in tow, Ginny gave a loud sigh from the deck of 'The Morrigan'.

"Captain on deck!" Ron yells near the bow of the ship.

"Is she-" she starts but the Captain quickly raised her hand in a 'stop' gesture and grabbed the lantern that hung near the entrance of her quarters.

"She still has an hour until her crowning, which I told her we will leave at exactly then also," Y/n says as she handed Ginny the lantern, and smiled at her irritated expression.

"What does that even mean?" the ginger replies as the sounds of her twin brothers echo from the crow's nest.

"Look at that whale Freddie! Looks like your ex-girlfriend!"

It was funny to think that half her crew was just the entire Weasley family.

"Just keep this lantern lit as you do your patrols around the deck" Y/n states as she patted the girl's shoulder and disappeared into her quarters.

As the door shut behind her, a soft groan came from her lips as she grabbed her hat from the hook on the wall.

Placing it on her head, she took a seat at her desk and began looking at the new inventory report.

Molly has requested more fruit cabbage for her kitchen, while Draco has asked for a new pair of boots. Harry needs new glasses, and Blaise needs to go to the blacksmith and sharpen his swords.

Y/n felt a headache begin to form as she tried to figure out a way to get everyone these things. This kingdom had almost everything, but she would have to dig through the old navigator's journal entries to find out where they got Harry's glasses the last time he broke them.

She needed help, and she didn't know how to ask for it without looking vulnerable in front of her crew. Y/n was only one person, and she needed someone as sophisticated as Hermione.

Granted, Y/n still planned to make Hermione hers, but that would have to wait.

Minutes went by quicker than she had realized as she scanned through the reports of everything below deck. She eventually noticed that it was ten to twelve.

"Come on Hermione" Y/n whispers as she stood up and walked back onto the deck.

"Begin preparations for departure!" Y/n yells out as a chorus of 'Ayes' rung out around her.

Ginny still stood near the walkway with the lantern in hand as she stared out into the town, which seemed devoid of life if it wasn't for the castle that was lit up like a fireworks display.

"I don't think she's coming" Y/n whispers as Ginny just hummed.

"You've always been so quick to judge" she replied as her eyes flickered towards different corners of the streets that stood in front of her.

"Ready Captain!" Percy states from his post as he stood at the stern with his hand on his pistol.

Percy always seemed to know when trouble was headed their way, it was almost like a gut instinct for him to grab his weapon.

"There she is" Ginny chuckles as she tapped Y/n's chest with the back of her hand.

Y/n's head snapped to find Hermione bolting down the street towards them, she now wore pants and a shirt instead of the beautiful white dress she had been given earlier in the day.

The Captain quickly made her way to the walkway, but soon noticed that she wasn't just running to get to them in time. Y/n heard the yelling of guards and began to smile.

"Once she's on the ship, time to go!" Y/n called as Draco took ahold of the wheel, and barked orders at the boys on the deck.

Hermione caught the Captain's eyes as she dashed down the dock towards them, and smiled at her, to which Y/n broke out in a grin in response.

"Come on Princess! We don't have all night!" Y/n teased as she held out her hand for her to take across the board between land and ship.

As soon as their hands grasped one another's, Y/n yanked her on deck and let Ron and Harry quickly pull the wood onto the ship as well.

"Full sails! Get us out of here!" Y/n yelled as the woosh of the sails fell and took in the wind of the sea.

Tens of hundreds of footsteps pounded on the dock as they pulled away, one guard had managed to jump and grab the side of the ship, but Pansy was able to just lean over and wack away his hands with the butt of her sword.

He didn't fall into the water at first, but her threat was able to make him choose his fate.

"Let go, or I'm chopping them off"

He quickly dropped into the cold unforgiving ocean.

Y/n darted towards the stern as The Morrgian began to take speed and drift off into the night.

She watched as hundreds of guards stood at the docks watching as their future queen ran off with one of the most hated pirates in the seven seas.

"I'll kill you Y/l/n!" A man yells from his place in the troops, from the crown on his head, she hadn't had to guess that he was King Granger.

"Well, that's one way to make a first impression on the crew!" Ginny snickers as she greeted Hermione on the deck.

"It would have been a lot calmer if my father hadn't caught me sneaking away" she replies as she put her back into a ponytail with a few hairpins she had left in her pockets.

"We'll have an introduction party tomorrow, right now Hermione and I need to begin setting a course for the West Indies" Y/n joked as she made her way back to the deck, Hermione stumbled slightly as the ship swayed side to side.

"Don't worry Princess, you'll get your sea legs eventually" the Captain snickers as she gestured to her quarters, and held out her hand for Hermione to take for stability.

As she took it, Blaise began to sing a chantey proudly, to which the crew joined in as well as they began their Mundane chores around the ship.

Y/n shut her door behind them, muffling the ruffians, as Hermione took in the beautiful books and maps that were scattered around.

"These are beautiful" Hermione whispers as she walked around the space with so much intrigue.

"I would hope so, since you'll be living in here" Y/n states as points to another desk that face the window that looks out into the sea behind the ship. A small bed lay next to it, almost looking untouched since its last owner as many books and papers were scattered around the space.

She could see her home fading away as they drifted away further.

"Wait, the Captain and Navigator share the same room?" Hermione asks as she turned back to find Y/n suddenly standing almost face to face with her.

"Of course, you're my right hand now" she mumbles as her eyes flickered around Hermione's face.

"If there wasn't already evidence of this cot being lived in, I would think you had done this on purpose" Hermione chuckles as Y/n brushed past her and took a seat at her desk.

"We could always push our cots together? Make this space very lived-in" Y/n suggests as Hermione stood in front of her, the only thing separating them was the desk of the captain.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" the former royal asks as she leaned down and restart her hands upon the wood.

"Certainly, I like to have my treasures close by me" Y/n whispers as she herself leaned closer, and like earlier in the night, they stared at one another intensely.

Hermione smirked and brushed her nose against hers in a teasing manner.

"You think of me as one of your treasures?" she replies in a hushed tone as she heard a soft shudder come from the sailor.

"Yes, I've caught myself a princess after all" Y/n mutters as Hermione pecked the corner of her mouth.

She was using her tricks.

"Did you? Or did I catch myself a Captain?"

Y/n's grin found a home on her lips once more for the night, before being wiped away with a kiss from Hermione.

The captain saw stars behind her eyes that were more beautiful than the ones in the sky.

The poor Captain tried to chase after another one as she backed away with a mischievous smile.

"As fun, as it is to fool around with you, we do have work to do" Hermione states as she walked towards her new desk, her hand squeezing Y/n's shoulder as she went by.

Hermione could feel eyes burning into the back of her head as she sat down and took a book from one of the piles.

"If you want more, you have to woo me, my Captain," she says as she whispers the last part in a sultry tone.

Even though her decision to betray her country was almost just for the fact to see the world, she also knew a part of her wanted to see how a flirty Captain would treat her during their months at sea.

She knew sooner or later she would allow herself to be taken into the Captain's arms and ravished behind closed doors.

Yet, she still wanted to be treated like a proper lady, and it was going to be fun to watch an urchin like Y/n try her best at it.

Hermione could only chuckle as she heard Y/n walk out to the deck and begin asking questions about dates to her crew, having left the door open slightly.

This is going to be fun.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian

[aph-japan]

“‘Come out, English soldier; come out here to us.’ For some little time we were cautious, and did not even answer. Officers, fearing treachery, ordered the men to be silent. But up and down our line one heard the men answering that Christmas greeting from the enemy. How could we resist wishing each other Merry Christmas, even though we might be at each other’s throats immediately afterwards? So we kept up a running conversation with the Germans, all the while our hands ready on our rifles. Blood and peace, enmity and fraternity - war’s most amazing paradox. The night wore on to dawn - a night made easier by songs from the German trenches, the pipings of piccolos and from our broad lines laughter and Christmas carols. Not a shot was fired." -Peace on the Western Front: Goodwill in No-man's Land - The Story of the World War I Christmas Truce {Smithsonian Magazine}

Hetalia ~ Episode 100 ~ Japanese Version + Germany & England

Gifs by @aph-japan {Do Not Repost or Reproduce without my Permission} {Do Not Remove Caption} {DO NOT Use my Posts for overly negative commentary} [Positive or Respectful is OK!] (Please ASK to Use)

During the first eight weeks of World War I, French and British troops stopped the German attack through Belgium into France outside Paris at the First Battle of the Marne in early September 1914. The Germans fell back to the Aisne valley, where they dug in. In the First Battle of the Aisne, the Franco–British attacks were repulsed and both sides began digging trenches to economise on manpower and use the surplus to outflank, to the north, their opponents. In the Race to the Sea, the two sides made reciprocal outflanking manoeuvres and after several weeks, during which the British forces were withdrawn from the Aisne and sent north to Flanders, both sides ran out of room. By November, armies had built continuous lines of trenches running from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier.

The Christmas truce (German: Weihnachtsfrieden; French: Trêve de Noël; Dutch: Kerstbestand) was a series of widespread unofficial ceasefires along the Western Front of the First World War around Christmas 1914. The truce occurred five months after hostilities had begun. Lulls occurred in the fighting as armies ran out of men and munitions and commanders reconsidered their strategies following the stalemate of the Race to the Sea and the indecisive result of the First Battle of Ypres. In the week leading up to 25 December, French, German and British soldiers crossed trenches to exchange seasonal greetings and talk. In some areas, men from both sides ventured into no man's land on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to mingle and exchange food and souvenirs. There were joint burial ceremonies and prisoner swaps, while several meetings ended in carolling. Men played games of football with one another, creating one of the most memorable images of the truce. Hostilities continued in some sectors, while in others the sides settled on little more than arrangements to recover bodies. The following year, a few units arranged ceasefires but the truces were not nearly as widespread as in 1914; this was, in part, due to strongly worded orders from commanders, prohibiting truces. Soldiers were no longer amenable to truce by 1916; the war had become increasingly bitter after the human losses suffered during the battles of 1915.

The truces were not unique to the Christmas period and reflected a mood of "live and let live", where infantry close together would stop fighting and fraternise, engaging in conversation. In some sectors, there were occasional ceasefires to allow soldiers to go between the lines and recover wounded or dead comrades; in others, there was a tacit agreement not to shoot while men rested, exercised or worked in view of the enemy. The Christmas truces were particularly significant due to the number of men involved and the level of their participation—even in quiet sectors, dozens of men openly congregating in daylight was remarkable—and are often seen as a symbolic moment of peace and humanity amidst one of the most violent conflicts in human history.

-from Wikipedia's article; "Christmas truce"

"Having a gunfight on {a Holy night/timeframe} wouldn't be right." -Germany

Say what you will about "Hetalia", but this sequence was semi-based on real historical events - Real events that should be much more well known.

#historical hetalia #hetalia #aph england #aph germany #arthur kirkland #ludwig beilschmidt #gereng #hws germany #hws england #geruk #hetalia: the world series #hetalia world series #hetalia world series: season 2 #hetalia: season 4 #the christmas truce #hetalia: jpn version #chai hetalia #chai gifs #chai hetalia gifs #chai germany #chai england #hetalia: original version #(I was Thinking About This Sequence Again {and I Am Hoping Beyond Hope Right Now for Things} as I post this but Yes) #(Its one of the ones I actually really didnt mind at all Considering the Content it Actually Got Half Right) #(This is stuff like what this series Concept Could have Done More when Handled Right) #(There is another popular post around with the scene but it's US dub version and I dont really want to further promote for Reasons) #(So Im choosing to specifically take from the original version to show what the original text also was) #(The link to the original quotes article since died but I can provide it in comments later and extra context is from Wiki which has a whole #(Page on It and its History YOU SHOULD Know REGARDLESS of the Context you Learn it from) #(I havent made edits for the fan base in ages PLEASE Dont Make Me Regret The Decision and I will be carefully watching comments on post)

[thatshowthingstarted]

A 19th Century Abyssinian shield,

The circular dome shield made from hide and decorated in blind, with white metal strapwork and floral appliquets, the central boss engraved description "Magdala 13th April 1868", the reverse with carrying handle,

52cms diameter.

Lord Napier led the expedition of 1868 against Emperor Tewodros II of Abyssinia (modern day Ethiopia). The Abyssinian ruler was holding a number of Protestant missionaries hostage, in his mountain capital of Magdala, as well as two British diplomats who had attempted to negotiate their freedom.

After months of planning, the advance guard of engineers landed at Zula on the Red Sea to constuct a port on 30th October 1867; Napier himself arrived in Zula 2nd January 1868, on the 25th January 1868 Napier led his group south to Ethiopian highlands.

After traversing 400 miles of mountainess terrain in inhospitable weather, Napier's troops reached the foot of Magdala on the 9th April 1868, and the next day, defeated the 9000 troops still loyal to Tewodros at the battle of Magdala for the loss of only two British lives.

Although Emperor Tewodros II surrender his hostages and made repeated efforts for a negotiated surrender, the distrustful Napier pressed on and ordered an assault on the mountain redoubt on 13th April 1868. The British captured Magdala and Emperor Tewodros killed himself. Napier then ordered the destruction of Tewodros' artillery and the burning of Madgala as retribution. This included the expedition and its troops looting many local artifacts which they took back to Britian.

Napier was elevated to the peerage as Baron Napier of Magdala on 11th July 1868 and granted annuity and ammunity for life.

Courtesy: Anderson and Garland

#art #history #design #style #sculpture #antiquity #19th century #imperial #africa #african history #african heritage #tewodros II #magdala #shield #abyssinian #ethiopia #colonialism #colonial violence #napier #anderson&garland

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

I HAVE AN obsession with the color green. It’s a color of opposites. Green is life, growth, and health. It’s also sickness, greed, and envy. It’s good and bad at once. And it’s everywhere this afternoon as I sit down with actor, producer, author, and entrepreneur Sam Heughan — most recognized for his starring role in the Scotland-based time travel drama “Outlander.” His shirt bears a green tartan pattern, somewhere between jade and emerald. To my right, the glass bottle of his new gin is a transparent seafoam. Above my head is the leafy expanse of a tree, planted in the courtyard of New York’s Crosby Street Hotel. The gin we sip tastes green: grassy and alpine, fresh as menthol and bright as a sour apple. Most vividly is the green in my mind’s eye: the wet, rich, misty green of Scotland, a place Heughan speaks of with rapture.

Missing home is what drove Heughan to launch his spirits brand Sassenach, after the Scottish Gaelic word for an English person, or rather, an “outsider.” “When I was in London away from home, a jobbing actor, missing Scotland, I remember my first time trying a single malt whisky and I had such an emotional reaction,” he recalls from across the table, his bright blue eyes wide. “It reminded me of Scotland.”

I remark on the gin’s legs, thick and viscous, streaking the sides of my glass. Heughan nods, “I increased the strength. It just gives it a bit more weight. I love a bit of weight on my tongue.” Toasted oats give a creamy feel to the cornucopia of flavors present in the liquid: pine resin, heather, blackberry leaf, blaeberry — and, again, that sour green apple. “There’s no citrus in Scotland. That’s why I chose apples,” Heughan explains. “I remember as a kid, picking them and throwing them at people, eating them, then being really ill because they’re so sour.”

Heughan’s family — his mother, brother, and uncle — still live in Scotland. His uncle used to have a ceilidh band. “[Ceilidh is] a traditional Scottish dance,” he explains. “It’s madness. Everyone’s drinking whisky and the dancers get faster and faster and there are lots of spinning people around.” Heughan listens to a lot of Scottish music. He later sends me a song called “Blackbird” by Martyn Bennett, known for mixing dance tracks with traditional Celtic music. I tear up at its aching slants. “It makes me homesick for a home that’s not mine,” I message him. “That’s Scotland,” he writes back. “It does that to people.”

Sam Heughan Is in Good Spirits Image Float

Heughan was raised by a single mother in the south of Scotland — the rural stretches of Dumfries and Galloway. “Spent a lot of time on my own pretending I was a knight or Robert the Bruce.” The land’s botanicals now flavor his gin. Courtesy of Sam Heughan.

“It’s one foot in the present, one in the past,” muses Heughan about his country, adding a splash of tonic to my gin, whose flavor now reveals a pleasant salinity. “The castles. So many great battles. You

can feel the history. I think that’s what makes it so magical.” This history is inextricably linked to ritual, observed in Scotland to this day. Take Beltane, a pagan ritual beginning serendipitously on Heughan’s birthday, April 30. “You’re supposed to stay up all night and wash your face in the fresh dew when the sun rises, then go to bed and dream of your future spouse,” he describes. “It’s all about rebirth and nature.”

We talk about other parts of the world that have shaped him, as I remark on his fusion accent: a bit Scottish for sure, but mixed with something else, sort of American and British, too. America’s opportunity and diversity captivate Heughan. He came here for the first time at 18, hostel hopping in San Francisco. “I remember looking at the Golden Gate Bridge for hours, playing my cassette of ‘(Sittin’ On) the Dock of the Bay’ by Otis Redding over and over. I was living on $5 burritos — one a day. It’s all I could afford.” He speaks of Hawaii with reverence — the local culture’s connection to wildlife and the sea. He spent time with a fisherman and his family there who taught him the Indigenous way to fish: “Gut it straight away. Take out the heart, say a prayer, and throw it back into the ocean immediately to allow the soul of the fish to live on.” New Zealand also moves him. He was there recently and learned about tā moku, the art of Māori tattooing. “You sit with an artist and tell him your story. He chooses where it goes on your body and makes it there and then. He stuck [the initial sketch] on my left forearm here, and it was all about my mom and my brother and the absence of my father.” He wants to return to New Zealand and get the tattoo next time.

My gin has opened up even more, spreading out into softer, aromatic florals as Heughan uncorks a bottle of his whisky. “People have called you a global heartthrob.” I begin, “Is that a role you’re —”

“Who has?” His eyes grow bigger in feigned shock. (Fun fact: the Sam Heughan fanbase even has their own name — “Heughligans.”)

“Someone I talked to in the subway.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely, pouring new glasses.

“Do you,” I continue, taking a sip, “feel comfortable in that role?” The whisky tastes like a spicy Werther’s caramel.

“My character is what some people aspire to, and I understand why. He’s this incredible human being who’s just so in love with his wife and does the most romantic things. Selfless. People then think you might be that person. I’m certainly not. But it’s something to aspire to.”

“Are you comfortable,” I press, “being an object of desire?” Heughan shares that in earlier years, he was treated in a way that would no longer be tolerated. “I’d be asked, ‘What’s under your kilt?’ or ‘How do you get your abs?’ I wish I did have abs! We were just in a different industry. I don’t have resentment or a grudge. But I would like to be seen for the work that I do, rather than my looks.”

While he’s still based in Scotland, Heughan also has a house in LA, a city he’s not exactly sold on. He toys with the idea of New York as his next home base. He loves it here. “The cocktail bars. Cycling along the West Side. SoHo. The river. Getting a ferry. I’m so into ferries! I’ll go to Staten Island, then come back again. We got a helicopter the other day back from the Hamptons — I don’t like helicopters. They’re not meant to fly. However, seeing the Statue of Liberty from there, it’s so good. New York could be my city.”

I show Heughan around some local spots that evening. We sit at the bar of Superbueno for mezcal drinks and tacos. The music gets louder and so do the crowds. Mouth full of al pastor, I semi-shout a question in Heughan’s direction, asking if he ever gets overstimulated. “No, not really,” he replies simply, between chewing. At 6 feet, 3 inches, Heughan towers over seemingly everyone. Maybe it’s calmer up there. There’s an overall good-natured quality to him; it’s soothing to be around.

We head to another bar, Mr. Fongs. The air is thick with the smell of trash and rats dart to and fro. A subway thunders overhead as we walk below a bridge in Chinatown. “This is awesome,” Heughan murmurs. We order the bar’s specialty: salty plum old-fashioneds. “I want a place where the second I walk out my door, I’m right in the center of all of it,” he says decidedly, whistling a little at the (notoriously strong) drink. “Right in the middle.”

Heughan is noticeably unadorned. I suggest some rings and an ear piercing for his New York era. A candle light flickers against his cheek, evoking another world — someplace old and rural and rugged. At this moment, I see his character, a fantasy projection of the leading man. But really, we’re just in Chinatown, weighing the pros and cons of earrings on men. “Sadly I don’t think I’m quite cool enough,” he sighs, “to pull that off.” ▪️

Our Contributors

Sophie Mancini Writer

Sophie Mancini is an editor at Departures. Born and raised in New York City, she holds a degree in creative writing from Johns Hopkins University and has a background as a writer in brand and editorial.

Diana Markosian Photographer

Diana Markosian (born in Moscow, 1989) is a Russian-American photographer of Armenian descent. Her work explores memory and place through a layered, interdisciplinary process that uses photography and video. Her photographs have been published in National Geographic, the New Yorker, and the New York Times.

Robert Ormerod Photographer

Robert Ormerod is a photographer interested in telling stories. He is based in Scotland, working across the U.K. for titles such as National Geographic, The Guardian Saturday magazine, The New York Times, T Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, and Bloomberg Businessweek.

Tom Craig Photographer

Tom Craig is a photographer and director whose work has been featured in Vogue, i-D, and Vanity Fair. His work is driven by a desire to tell stories and the urge to travel. His work often blurs the line between fashion photography and straightforward reportage.

**Full article from @departures www.departures.com

[rdng1230]

10 things Easily fixable about That thing that happened: look, killing off Izzy Hands was always gonna hurt like a bitch. And it was a stupid decision, but what really made it worse was how many ways they could have made it better and specifically didn’t, so here’s a list in no particular order of general things that I think would’ve made things suck less, and a couple different story fix proposals. Maybe if I write it all out I can move on a little bit.

I know it was for budgetary reasons but it bothered me Ivan was killed off with one sentence and never mentioned again. I think what would have worked is if Ivan had been a little more fleshed out in s1, and then had him die on screen at the hands of a particularly dickish British naval officer in 2x01. Cut to episode 7 and said dickish Brit is Ricky’s number two. Izzy could have willingly and purposefully drawn the fire of officer asshole, as an acknowledgement of his failure to save Ivan and his past failures to be a proper protector of blackbeards crew, and to save the crew he’s now realized is his family that he is willing to die for. In addition I think that would’ve helped set up the British as being an actual formidable bad guy, because up to this point they were the most looney tunes ass villains on the high seas. Also it would’ve been an interesting symmetry to have the loyal pirate first mate vs. the loyal imperialist scumbag first mate. Think of the banter people.

I hate it when bad events in stories are predicated on having highly intelligent characters be complete idiots. You’re telling me Izzy fucking hands didn’t check noseless wonder for weapons? Fuck off. At least have a fellow soldier toss ricky a musket or something, or just have another soldier shoot him.

I think the main issue here is agency. Yes everyone consented to going into battle that way, but Izzy’s shooting was unceremonious, it wasn’t like he charged somebody or acted as bait, he just got hit by a stray bullet (It’s giving “your shirt” and I fucking hate it Iykyk)

Literally no one attempted medical intervention to help Izzy. Roach isn’t gonna stuff a rag in there? Jim isn’t gonna pass a knife to help rip Izzy’s clothes to visualize the wound? Fang and Frenchie aren’t gonna hold his hand? We’re not even gonna fucking try?!?!

if they had to center Ed’s issues with Izzy’s literal dying words, could we have at least have it be a big character moment for Ed to say “yes the crew is my family, but they’re yours too and I promise I’ll take care of them and make amends” like if DJ is so convinced of this father mentor thing (which seriously what the fuck is he even talking about) what’s more par for the course in this trope then the ole “you’re the man of the house now son you gotta take care of the family” routine

look, I know they got a short episode that they have to keep short. Cut a minute of time out of that breathtakingly awkward fishing sequence from the beginning and give Izzy’s death some breathing room. FFS the fallout from Karl’s and Lucius’s finger’s death had more reaction and more airtime than Izzy Hands (and more effect on the story)

Ricky fucking got away and no one talks about it. It would’ve been great if literally anyone had said “yeah we’re going after that guy” or “we may have won the battle but the British are always out there and one of these days we’ll meet again” just an acknowledgement that one guerilla battle at the republic of pirates was never gonna be the end of it.

this one hits close to home for me. I live on a boat, my mother is a licensed 100 ton ship captain. We’re seafarers goddamit and when we shake off this mortal coil we are buried (or cremated and scattered) at sea. Izzy Hands would not have wanted a land burial and he would’ve wanted to be buried at sea like the distinguished pirate he is, by the crew that became his family.

This segues into the burial at sea thing but maybe don’t bury him without his leg on, like just don’t do that. Don’t put his cravat and mothers ring where anybody could just come along and yank it off, Jesus.

I think frenchie being captain was a weird choice tbh. I love frenchie but he is a jester, a troubadour, a fae walking among us, the worlds handsomest grifter, but this dude does not want to be captain. However, if you had to make him captain I think it would’ve been nice to have had a scene post amputation where Izzy deliriously tells frenchie all these bits of advice about being first mate/captain and how Izzy had failed to be a good one in the past. I just loved the frenchie izzy bond in general and I would’ve loved another extra scene with them. This also would’ve lended itself well to frenchie being the one to outwardly grieve (the box opening up finally) during that minute of breathing room post death that I mentioned was needed earlier, maybe he would’ve reprised la vie en rose, or played a shanty/wake song that everyone could join in on.

I’m sure there are other things too that I’ve forgotten, but I think this covers most of it. Let me also say Izzy’s death was hardly the only issue I had with the finale, but that moment was the most egregiously and easily fixable (or at the very least mitigable) plot point. At the end of the day I think Izzy should’ve just not fucking died, but if they were gonna kill him, there were so many more respectful ways to do it.

#Izzy hands #ofmd s2 spoilers #everyone feel free to add on what I’ve missed #Ofmd

[illustratus]

#sir evelyn wood #evelyn wood #art #illustrations #england #great britain #britain #history #europe #british #english #battles #land #sea #book #books #cover #illustration #knight #knights #medieval #middle ages

[princessanneftw]

A rare insight into the usually unreported work of Princess Royal

Visiting military graves of unsung heroes was fitting appointment for perhaps the hardest working member of Royal family

By Victoria Ward for The Telegraph

Of the many war heroes buried in the windswept Dover chalk grassland is one Sgt Maj Charles Wooden, who was awarded the Victoria Cross after saving a fellow soldier’s life under heavy fire during the Battle of Balaclava.

The Princess Royal studied his grave closely as she was told he was “a bit of a drunkard” who had unfortunately met a sad demise.

Suffering from excruciating toothache, he had tried to dislodge the offending tooth with his gun, only to blow his brains out. “The ultimate pain killer,” the Princess, 72, observed drily, with the wry humour that is never in short supply.

Another, Gunner Andrew McDowell, had been blown to bits as he sat with two other soldiers in Dover harbour out of sight but directly in the firing line of a new 42-pound cannon.

The firing party thought someone said “fire” and duly fired. Gunner McDowell’s arm was found in the local town. The Princess peered closely at his newly restored grave, decorated with a cannon. “It’s almost adding insult to injury putting a gun on there, isn’t it?” she remarked.

The Princess, patron of The Remembrance Trust, was at St James’s cemetery, in Dover, Kent, to inspect its latest work restoring the military graves and memorials of those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

It was the second engagement of at least four on her itinerary, but as a royal who opts to get on with her work under the radar, most of it – as always – will go unreported.

However, on Tuesday, The Telegraph was invited to join the Princess as she travelled to Kent for an update on the work of the Trust, of which she became patron in 2021.

Engaged and unguarded, she delighted the small band of charity trustees and council dignitaries with her easy humour and obvious interest. “You can’t fake that kind of fascination,” one observer said later. “She’s great fun and you can talk to her like a normal human being.”

The Princess, accompanied by her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, 68, made a point of chatting to each member of the small gang of around 15 that was on hand to greet her.

Introduced to charity trustee and “tomb expert” Dr Roger Bowdler, she joked: “See tomb, will travel.”

Darren Solley, head of parks and open spaces at Dover District Council, told the Princess he was trialling a new approach to managing the cemetery land by leaving much of it to grow wild, improving biodiversity.

“It’s quite a difficult balance, rewilding,” she commented. “Actually, you do look after it but it doesn’t look like it.”

Warming to the theme, she continued: “You do have to cut it but it’s when you cut it that’s key – and what you do with the leftovers.”

Former corporal Steve Davies, a military grave restorer who has worked with the trust since its inception and preserved six of the seven graves on the Princess’s one-hour tour, proved an enthusiastic and informative guide.

The Restoration Trust returns graves to their former glory while at the same time creating a database spanning more than 200 years.

Founded and chaired by North Sea oil pioneer and former Grenadier Guards officer Algy Cluff, 83, it has a vast remit covering an undefined period up until 1914. He was motivated to help future generations understand the nation’s military past after working on the graves of British troops killed abroad.

Those killed from 1914 onwards have their graves kept by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, funded by the Commonwealth governments, but those killed earlier fall through the cracks, their headstones left to fall to ruin.

One of those whose grave has been lovingly restored is Maj Gen William Sutton, who received the Second China War medal and Companion of the Order of the Bath but who requested none of the usual pomp and circumstance at his funeral and asked to be buried in a common grave alongside soldiers of other ranks.

It was fortuitous then, that of all the well-known faces to visit his resting place almost 160 years after his death aged 56 was the Princess Royal, that least showy and no-nonsense member of the Royal family.

“It doesn’t say who he served with,” the Princess commented as she studied his headstone. “56? I’m surprised he lasted so long.”

Mr Davies ushered her along. “We’ve got to hit the hill now, ma’am,” he said. “Don’t worry, I live on the side of a hill,” came the reply as the Princess ploughed on, stopping to study several other graves along the way.

“Oh, it’s a Sherwood Forester, well, well well,” she said, pausing by one that she was keen to point out to her husband.

When Mr Davies told the Princess that he had queued for 14 hours to see her late mother, Elizabeth II, lying in rest, it prompted a discussion about the merits of certain footwear.

The Princess admitted that the boots that form part of the Blues and Royals uniform were none too comfortable. “Which is why I didn’t volunteer to walk after the Coronation, I was riding,” she laughed.

Later, the Princess and Sir Tim retired for a private lunch at Dover Castle before moving on to the next engagement.

Meanwhile, those who had enjoyed her company that morning were unanimous in their praise.

“She’s got common sense running through her like Brighton Rock,” one said. “But she’s enormous fun and absolutely interested and engaged. One couldn’t hope for a better patron.”

#she’s so funny #the dry wit is 10/10 #interesting that the telegraph was invited to come along #also she had a private lunch with tim 🥰 #princess anne #princess royal #tim laurence #timothy laurence #anne does stuff #workanne 9 to 5 #british royal family #brf

[wanderingsorcerer]

CELTIC FOLKLORE&MYTHOLOGY 101

The Celts have a rich and beautiful history but one that is filled with many sorrows as well. From the invasion of the Roman Armies , to the forced conversion to christianity. Many of what we know now about the pre-colonization of the celtic people are through the "surviving" stories written by the Romans which occupied the lands and later the christian scribes of the middle ages. Some myths have only survived as stories passed down through Oral Traditions. Or through adopting Christian Attributes.

But even then, what has survived is but a mere fraction of what used to be, most surviving Celtic mythology belongs to the Insular Celtic peoples (the Gaels of Ireland and Scotland; the Celtic Britons of western Britain and Brittany).  When it comes to written folklore and mythologies  of the celtic people, the Irish have the largest written myths in the region only seconded by the written Welsh mythologies.

Today we will be focusing mainly on the Irish and Welsh Folklore and Mythology

Below I will list some of the names of the deities and spirits found throughout the Irish Folklore and Mythos

Morrigan- Shape shifting Goddess Who Hovered over the battlefields as a crow or raven

Danu- Irish Mother Goddess

Dagda-Irish God Of Life and Death as well as Magick, Married to Morrigan

Brigid - Celtic Goddess of Fire, Poetry, Cattle and patroness of smiths

Arwan- God of the Celtic underworld

Taranis- God Of Thunder

Excerpt from wikipedia

IRISH MYTHOLOGY The myths are conventionally grouped into 'cycles'. The Mythological Cycle, or Cycle of the Gods, consists of tales and poems about the god-like Túatha Dé Danann and other mythical races.[6] Many of the Tuath Dé are thought to represent Irish deities. They are often depicted as kings, queens, druids, bards, warriors, heroes, healers and craftsmen who have supernatural powers.  Prominent members of the Tuath Dé include The Dagda ("the great god"), who seems to have been the chief god; The Morrígan ("the great queen" or "phantom queen"), a triple goddess associated with war, fate and sovereignty; Lugh; Nuada; Aengus; Brigid; Manannán; Dian Cecht the healer; and Goibniu the smith, one of the Trí Dé Dána ("three gods of craft"). Their traditional rivals are the monstrous Fomorians (Fomoire), whom the Tuath Dé defeat in the Cath Maige Tuired ("Battle of Moytura").  Other important works in the cycle are the Lebor Gabála Érenn ("Book of Invasions"), a legendary history of Ireland, and the Aided Chlainne Lir ("Children of Lir"). WELSH FOLKLORE & MYTHOLOGY Important reflexes of British mythology appear in the Four Branches of the Mabinogi, especially in the names of several characters, such as Rhiannon, Teyrnon, and Brân the Blessed (Bendigeidfran, "Bran [Crow] the Blessed"). Other characters, in all likelihood, derive from mythological sources, and various episodes, such as the appearance of Arawn, a king of the Otherworld seeking the aid of a mortal in his own feuds, and the tale of the hero who cannot be killed except under seemingly contradictory circumstances, can be traced throughout Proto-Indo-European mythology. The children of Llŷr ("Sea" = Irish Ler) in the Second and Third Branches, and the children of Dôn (Danu in Irish and earlier Indo-European tradition) in the Fourth Branch are major figures, but the tales themselves are not primary mythology. While further mythological names and references appear elsewhere in Welsh narrative and tradition, especially in the tale of Culhwch and Olwen, where we find, for example, Mabon ap Modron ("Divine Son of the Divine Mother"), and in the collected Welsh Triads, not enough is known of the British mythological background to reconstruct either a narrative of creation or a coherent pantheon of British deities. Indeed, though there is much in common with Irish myth, there may have been no unified British mythological tradition per se. Whatever its ultimate origins, the surviving material has been put to good use in the service of literary masterpieces that address the cultural concerns of Wales in the early and later Middle Ages.

The celtic traditions and their pagan Practitioners in the modern age.

One example of the modern practitioners which have celtic roots as a basis for their religion would be the New Druidic Movement of the 21st Century.

Born from the need of many who wish to delve deeper into their roots they've taken the historical context of the original druids of the Iron Age and have matched it closer with new age spirituality.

Druid~

The Old Irish form was "drui", and in Modern Irish and Gaelic the word is "draoi" or "druadh" (magician, sorcerer). 

These New Druids take inspiration from the mythologies from all around the celtic regions, Ireland , Scotland, wales , Britannia. And brings them together to create what is now the new Druidic Order.

They are primarily animistic , ( All things in nature hold a spirit) and the majority of druids in this new order are also polytheistic. They hold Great Reverence towards the spirits of the land and the magick of the land of their ancestral Homeland.

Antiquity Does not mean authenticity, things don't need to be ancient in order for them to feel powerful and tangible to the practitioner. Druids as a living practice is an extension of the culture of the celtic people.

And as such it is not claiming to be the druids of the past, (as we have very little information on their practices and how they lived.) But as a cultural movement they strive to be the stewards of Folklore and Folk practices for the coming generations.

If you would like to learn more on the Druidic Faith and the nuances of specifically WELSH Druidic Faith take this course into consideration from the Anglesey Druidic order

Welsh Celtic Witchcraft

This is honestly something which holds great value in learning more about as it pertains to the extension of knowledge outside Of the perceived Celtic Belief Systems,

In Welsh folk practices , Witches and Magickal practitioners were apart of daily life , Healer and wise woman whose power was said to come from Magickal Tomes which held spirits of demons and fairies inside.

Folk practices in Wales include the CURSING WELLS Ffynon Elian, Fairy Mounds .

A Great many different curses passed down from family to family, a famous Curse going around the internet is the One In Which a woman who is angered pulls out their TIT and Curses a man To Meet an Untimely Demise. Don't worry they usually deserved it.

There are so many beautiful and wonderful Folk Practices in Wales and Celtic practices in which I can't cover here but if you want to learn more and have a vested interest in the occult practices of other cultures give me a follow.

For more information on Wales Folklore in Video Format Visit The Below Youtube Channel :)

And if you would like to support the above Practitioner Mhara Starling I will link their book Here for Purchase. They go in depth on the folklore and occult practices of the Welsh people

#celtic folklore #incense #ancient #burial #animism #celtic #pagan #pagan witch #witchblr #wicca #witchcraft #paganism #paganlife #paganblr #pagan altar #witch #witchy vibes #witches #magus #magi #magick #spells #folklore #WanderingSorcerer

[george-the-good]

King George VI - Christmas Message (1943)

Once again, from our home in England, the Queen and I send our Christmas greetings and good wishes to each one of you, all the world over. Some of you may hear me on board your ships, in your aircraft, or as you wait for battle in the jungles of the Pacific Islands or on the Italian peaks. Some of you may listen to me as you rest from your work, or as you lie sick or wounded in hospital. To many of you, my words will come as you sit in the quiet of your homes. But, wherever you may be, today of all days in the year, your thoughts will be in distant places and your hearts with those you love. I hope that my words, spoken to them and to you, may be the bond that joins us all in one company for a few moments on this Christmas Day.

With this thought in my mind, I wish to all who are on service good luck and a stout heart; to those who wait for them to return, proud memories and high hopes to keep you strong; to all children, here and in the lands beyond the seas, a day of real happiness.

I send these words of Christmas greeting to all of you who dwell within the family of the British Commonwealth and Empire. I know you would wish me to send a message of hope to our gallant allies who fight with us, and to all who, in the loneliness of exile or the horror of invasion, look forward to our coming victory.

In this year almost passed, many things have happened, under God’s providence, to make us thankful for His mercies. The generous strength of the United States of America, the tremendous deeds of Russia, the endurance of China under her long ordeal, the fighting spirit of France re-born, and the flower of the manhood and womanhood of many lands that share the burdens of our forward march - all these have played their part in the brightening of our fortunes on sea, on land, and in the air.

Since I last spoke to you many things have changed. But the spirit of our people has not changed. As we were not downcast by defeat, we are not unduly exalted by victory. While we have bright visions of the future we have no easy dreams of the days that lie close at hand. We know that much hard working and hard fighting, and perhaps harder working and harder fighting than ever before, are necessary for victory. We shall not rest from our task until it is nobly ended. Meanwhile, within these islands, we have tried to be worthy of our fathers; we have tried to carry into the dawn the steadfastness and courage vouchsafed to us when we stood alone in the darkness.

This is not the time for a chronicle of our progress. But there is one landmark in the sombre, world-embracing battlefield which I hope and I trust may endure. Wherever their duty has called our men and women, they have gained new friends and come to know old friends better. They have learnt to share the burdens, and to read the hearts, of their neighbours; they have laid the foundations of new friendships between nations, and strengthened old ones formed long ago. As a result, there is springing up in every country fresh hope that out of comradeship in sacrifice shall come power to restore, and power to build anew.

I saw proof of this when I visited North Africa in the summer. I saw many thousands of men of the United Nations, united in action, in heart and mind and purpose. The only rivalry between them was in the service of a great cause; their only aim was the defeat of a common enemy.

In the same spirit of unity, men of diverse races have come together in the council chamber and round the conference-table: some to meet the stern, immediate demands of war itself; others to heal the wounds that war deals to all humanity - to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, mend the broken, and succour the poor. So, as we see the clouds breaking on this Christmas Day, we should take comfort from our faith that out of desolation shall rise a new hope, and out of strife be born a new brotherhood.

From this ancient and beloved festival that we are keeping, sacred as it is to home and all that home means, we can draw strength to face the future of a world riven by a tempest such as it has never yet endured. In the words of a Scottish writer of our day: ‘No experience can be too strange and no task too formidable, if a man can link it up with what he knows and loves.’¹

---

1. From Memory Hold-the-Door, by John Buchan (Lord Tweedsmuir)

#King George VI #British Royal Family #1943 #1940s #WWII

[blueiskewl]

EMPEROR ALLECTUS (293-6), GOLD AUREUS, STRUCK IN LONDON - FOUND IN A FIELD IN KENT March 2019

Provenance: Found near Dover, Kent, adjacent to a Roman road, March 2019

Allectus (died 296) was a Roman-Britannic usurper-emperor in Britain and northern Gaul from 293 to 296.

There are only 24 aurei of Allectus known, from 19 different obverse dies; this coin is a die match to that in the British Museum. Gold was initially produced to pay an accession donation in AD 293 but continued to be issued throughout Allectus’s reign. Coins of Carausius and Allectus were probably demonetized after the latter’s death in AD 296, as none are found in later hoards. The reverse legend on this coin of oriens avg, combined with the sun god Sol, translates as the sun is rising for the emperor.

Allectus is described as the minister of finance, prætorian prefect, ally and co-conspirator under the usurper Carausius. This new independence of Britain was based on a strong naval force of at least two fleets controlling the English Channel and the North Sea. As a result of the loss of Boulogne on 1 March 293 to Constantius Chlorus, it is believed that Carausius was then murdered by Allectus. Little is known from historical records about Allectus: his name in Latin translates as chosen or elected, but his well-produced coinage indicates a smooth transition and the issue of a new denomination, the quinarius or half-antoninianus with a series of war galleys as the reverse design, was certainly innovative. In early 296 Constantius and the prætorian prefect Julius Asclepiodotus sailed in two separate fleets, one from Boulogne, the other from the mouth of the Seine, which slipped past the ships of Allectus waiting by the Isle of Wight (Vectis) in a sea fog. Allectus was defeated in a land battle, probably in Hampshire, by Asclepiodotus and Constantius arrived in London to reclaim Britain.

Only the second found in Kent, and recorded at the British Museum by Sam Moorhead.

#Roman Emperor Allectus #EMPEROR ALLECTUS GOLD AUREUS STRUCK IN LONDON #metal detector #metal detecting finds #gold #gold coin #roman gold coin #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #treasure #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman empire #roman history

[tmblrfuckingsucksass]

The Christmas truce was a series of widespread unofficial ceasefires along the Western Front of the First World War around Christmas 1914.

The truce occurred five months after hostilities had begun. Lulls occurred in the fighting as armies ran out of men and munitions and commanders reconsidered their strategies following the stalemate of the Race to the Sea and the indecisive result of the First Battle of Ypres. In the week leading up to 25 December, French, German and British soldiers crossed trenches to exchange seasonal greetings and talk. In some areas, men from both sides ventured into no man's land on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to mingle and exchange food and souvenirs. There were joint burial ceremonies and prisoner swaps, while several meetings ended in carolling. Men played games of football with one another, creating one of the most memorable images of the truce. Hostilities continued in some sectors, while in others the sides settled on little more than arrangements to recover bodies.

The following year, a few units arranged ceasefires but the truces were not nearly as widespread as in 1914; this was, in part, due to strongly worded orders from commanders, prohibiting truces. Soldiers were no longer amenable to truce by 1916; the war had become increasingly bitter after the human losses suffered during the battles of 1915.

The truces were not unique to the Christmas period and reflected a mood of "live and let live", where infantry close together would stop fighting and fraternize, engaging in conversation. In some sectors, there were occasional ceasefires to allow soldiers to go between the lines and recover wounded or dead comrades; in others, there was a tacit agreement not to shoot while men rested, exercised or worked in view of the enemy. The Christmas truces were particularly significant due to the number of men involved and the level of their participation—even in quiet sectors, dozens of men openly congregating in daylight was remarkable—and are often seen as a symbolic moment of peace and humanity amidst one of the most violent conflicts in human history.

#christmas #1914 christmas truce #world war i #first world war #ww1 #1910s #20th century #western front #european history #ceasefire #peace and goodwill to all men

[scotianostra]

1st February 1709 saw Alexander Selkirk, from Lower Largo in Fife rescued from his self imposed isolation.

Born in 1676, the seventh son of a cobbler, Alexander Selkirk grew up in Lower Largo, Fife. At the age of 19 he found himself in trouble with the Kirk Session after his brother’s trick of making him drink sea water resulted in a family fight. Before his case was heard, Selkirk fled to sea hoping to make his fortune through privateering (effectively legalised piracy on the King’s enemies) against Spanish vessels off the coast of South America.

Within a few years his skill at navigation led to his appointment as Sailing Master on the ‘Cinque Ports’, a sixteen gun, ninety ton privateer. The expedition was a disaster. The captain of the ship was a tyrant and after a few sea battles with the Spanish, Selkirk feared the ship would sink. So, in an attempt to save his own life he demanded to be put ashore on the next island they encountered. In September 1704, Selkirk was castaway on the uninhabited island of Más a Tierra (today known as Robinson Crusoe Island), over 400 miles off the West Coast of Chile. He took with him a little clothing, bedding, a musket and powder, some tools, a Bible and tobacco.

At first Selkirk simply read his Bible awaiting rescue, but it soon became apparent that the rescue wasn’t imminent. He resigned himself to a long stay and began to make island life habitable with only rats, goats and cats for company in his lonely vigil.

After several years of isolation, two ships drew into the island’s bay. Selkirk rushed to the shore, realising a little late that they were Spanish. Their landing party fired, forcing him to flee for his life although he managed to evade capture and the Spaniards eventually departed.

Finally On 1st of February 1709, two British privateers dropped anchor offshore. Alexander lit his signal fire to alert the ships, who dispatched a rather astonished landing party to find a ‘wildman’ dressed in goat skins. Remarkably the privateers’ pilot was William Dampier, who had led the Selkirk’s original expedition and was able to vouch for the ‘wildman’.

Selkirk had spent four years and four months of isolation on the island, yet seemed stable when he was found. The experience had, in fact, saved his life. From William Dampier he learnt that he had been right to leave the ‘Cinque Ports’, which had sunk off the coast of Peru with all of its crew drowned except the captain and another seven men, who had survived only to be captured and left to rot in a Peruvian jail.

Selkirk re-embarked on his career as a privateer and within a year he was master of the ship that rescued him. In 1712 he returned to Scotland £800 richer, and surprised his family as they worshipped at the Kirk in Largo. They had long given him up for dead and were astonished that he was alive, let alone alive in his fine, gold and lace clothes. In 1713 he published an account of his adventures which were fictionalised six years later by Daniel Defoe in his now famous novel: ‘Robinson Crusoe’.

Selkirk, however, could never really readjust to life on the land, and, in 1720, a year after he was immortalised by Defoe, he joined the Royal Navy only to die of fever off the coast of Africa.

#scotland #scottish #history #fifer #castaway