#(and Danish men.... one Danish man in particular....)

[somedaytakethetime]

NOW THAT'S MORE LIKE IT, KING

[kinardsevan]

so i'm one of those who is really of the mindset rn that this fling needs to be with Josh, and living in that mindset, I wrote this:

Evan glances up across the coffee house with a smile on his face, laughing at Josh’s comment on the petulance of some first responders. 

The relationship that has developed between the two of them recently is interesting, to say the least. He never really saw his sister’s coworker as someone he’d know any deeper than as an acquaintance, but after Maddie was kidnapped by that serial killer, Josh had somehow found a place in his life. 

Initially, it was because of they were in such close quarters while Maddie was missing. Josh could tell he was still going through it after Tommy, and then there was the issue of Eddie leaving also weighing on him. Maddie getting taken was the cherry on top that had nearly broken him, and somehow the other man being there as a shoulder in the midst of it all had been more meaningful than Evan could express. So a few late night coffees after Maddie had been found turned into a hookup, and then one hookup turned into two, and suddenly it had been a few weeks.

Granted, they were both clear on what was happening between them. At best, they were friends now with some really stellar benefits. He really liked Josh, could maybe see something else growing between them if his heart wasn’t still basically smashed potatoes all over the ground. Plus, being around the other man had given Evan the clarity of the fact that his attraction to men wasn’t solely tied to Tommy. If anything, it was simply that the intensity of his attraction to Tommy is what had finally shoved his bisexuality out of the dark and into the open. Hanging out with Josh, hooking up with him from time to time, helped him understand better that pursuing a relationship with another man wasn’t all that different than trying to pursue one with a woman. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Josh laughs, bumping into Evan’s shoulder as the blonde picks up his coffee and danish from the order counter. 

“I’m not disagreeing,” Evan states, lifting a hand in surrender. Josh grabs his things after Evan, and they head towards an open table. Evan has his danish shoved between his teeth and he makes a face with it. 

“Oh that’s priceless,” Josh states, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I need to send a picture to your sister.” 

Evan rolls his eyes, but he turns towards the other man, still walking backward towards the table as he makes the face again while Josh snaps a few photos. He’s still moving when he stumbles into someone, suddenly stepping forward and whipping around, letting the danish fall into his hand as he stammers that he’s so sorry and looking up-

right into those blue eyes. 

Evan gulps as the amusement on his face sinks away. All at once, he feels his heart hammering in his chest as though it’s trying to take flight out of his body and physically attach itself to the other man. 

“I’m so-…E- Buck.” 

It feels like someone’s twisting a fist around his stomach, hearing Tommy say his nickname. There’s no particular intonation. It’s just the fact that he’s called him that at all. It hurts just as much as it did the first time. 

Right at that moment, Josh decides to make his presence known, and he steps forward, shoving a hand out and giving a warm smile to Tommy. 

“Josh Russo,” he states. Tommy blinks a few times before he realizes what’s happening and he shakes Josh’s hand. 

“Tommy,” he answers, his voice soft. There’s the flash of something in his eyes as he glances at Evan, but he releases Josh’s hand a moment later and rubs his own over the leg of his jeans. Evan can’t help but glance over at Josh, who smirks at the gesture. 

“We were just getting coffee,” Evan says, and he doesn’t know if he’s trying to make an excuse, or if he thinks Tommy would even care. Either way, Tommy only smiles in response, a small one at that, and nods. 

“That’s- that’s good,” he replies. He moves to step around them toward the counter. “I have to grab mine, actually.” 

Evan turns toward him, mouth open like he wants to say something, but the words don’t come, and he turns back around. 

“Should we sit,” Josh asks after a moment. Evan doesn’t so much respond as he just finishes crossing the cafe to the table they’d been headed towards, and they sit down. 

He doesn’t know what to say, and in that moment, he’s silently thanking God that Josh keeps talking about his entire point he’d been on before their disruption, because Evan isn’t sure he could focus if he tried. As much as he knows its rude, he can’t stop himself from glancing back up in Tommy’s direction, taking him in. It feels like torture and like coming home all at the same time. Seeing him again calms something inside of him, if for no other reason than being able to know that he’s still alive and apparently safe. At the same time, he’s astutely aware of the darkness under Tommy’s eyes, the way his cheeks are more sallow than the last time they saw each other. He doesn’t know the story there, but he wants to. 

He watches with intermittent gazes, glancing over and then away quickly whenever Tommy seems to be looking in his direction. Still, the entire period is over far too quickly, and then his ex-boyfriend is crossing back through the coffee house quickly, walking out with his coffee order. 

“You should go after him.” 

Evan snaps out of his reverie as the door slides shut and glances back at Josh, shaking his head. 

“Huh? W-what?” 

Josh nods, a friendly smile on his face. “I mean it. You should go after him.” 

Evan furrows his brow at Josh. “He broke up with me.” 

Josh lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head at Evan. “So, when I asked all those weeks ago, did you ever actually tell him you’re in love with him?” 

Evan’s jaw goes slack at the question, unsure of what he means. “In love…?” 

“Oh my god, okay,” Josh replies, still chuckling. It’s almost off-putting to Evan. “I recognize the look, Buck. From every time I had to listen to your sister talk about how much she missed her husband when they were split up before Jee-Yun. And newsflash?” He points out the window in the general direction of where Tommy headed off in. “He’s got the same look, and it’s like everyone knows it but the two of you.” 

Evan gulps, considering Josh’s words. For all the things he’d thought about in the time after the conversation at the dispatch center, after deciding to ask Tommy to move in with him, and after the breakup, he’d never rethought the whole “in love with him” question. Still, if he has to quantify the feeling inside of him, make comparative notes to other times he’s known himself to be in love, the only person who even comes close to comparing—and even then it’s a long shot—is Abby. And as he pieces that together in his head, it’s almost too much to bear.

He loves Tommy. He’s in love with Tommy.

Josh nods as he watches the realization cross Evan’s face. 

“Like I said. You should go after him.” 

Evan pushes up from the table suddenly, only to stop halfway up, feeling bad about the sitaution. 

“Listen, I didn’t-..” 

Josh laughs again. “Oh, sweet, sweet, baby Buckley. I have known what this was from day one. I was just wondering how long it was going to take the two of you to pull your heads out of your asses.” 

Evan snorts at the comment, rolls his eyes again but still gives Josh a smile. 

“Besides,” Josh adds. “We can still be friends. I have to imagine the beefy one has gay friends he can introduce me to.” 

Evan laughs. “I’ll see what I can do about that for you.” 

“You better,” Josh replies, lifting his coffee to his lips. “Now go get your man.” 

Evan doesn’t wait a moment longer. He rushes out so fast that he leaves his coffee and bitten-into danish sitting on the table. On the street, he whips his head back and forth, and it takes him a moment to spot Tommy as he starts to round the corner onto the next street. 

Evan bolts after him, crossing the distance between them swiftly on his long legs. Still, when he reaches Tommy a minute later, he’s only a few feet from his truck. His coffee sloshes as Evan turns him around, and when Tommy’s eyes meet his, he has that same sad look in them. 

“Buck, what?” 

“First of all, don’t ever call me that again,” Evan states quickly, a bit breathless. “And second of all…” He settles flat on his feet, looking back and forth between Tommy’s eyes for a moment. Something in him keeps thinking back on Tommy’s obsession with romantic comedies, and the fact that there’s nothing quite more ‘romantic comedy’ than stopping someone on the street and just kissing them. 

So he does. He steps into Tommy’s space and wraps a hand around his head and pulls him in, kissing him with enough passion and determination that if he could shoot actual sparks, they’d both be on fire. For a moment, Tommy doesn’t respond, and Evan isn’t sure if it’s because of the surprise of it all or because he doesn’t feel the same way, but after a moment, he feels Tommy melt, and open his mouth to Evan’s request for access, kissing him back fully. 

Who knows how long the kiss goes on for. All Evan knows is that when he finally breaks away from Tommy, he’s breathless, and so. Fucking. Happy. He presses his forehead against Tommy’s, stroking his thumb down the back of his head. 

“I love you,” he states softly. “I’m in love with you. Maybe it doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I love you, and I’m going to keep loving you, no matter what you think I need to do to sew some wild oats.” 

“Evan,” Tommy murmurs back. His expression is still pained, and Evan can see the conflict in his eyes. 

“You, Tommy,” he counters. “You. Not someone else, not a different option, or a different life. You. Only you.” 

“You could-..” 

“I could do a lot of things,” Evan states. “I could die on my way home today. I could have an aneurysm tomorrow. I could live sixty more years, all without you because you’re too afraid to give in. I know who I am and what I want, and I know I’m not going to find it anywhere else because the way I feel about you? No one else has ever come close.” 

Tommy stares at him with those sad, expressive eyes, and the want in his expression is so clear that it makes Evan hurt for him. He watches as Tommy’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He’s quiet for another moment before taking a breath. 

“I’ve been back in therapy,” he says softly. “Trying to work through it all. I thought you were moving on-..” 

“I’m so close to not moving on that I can still see the starting line in front of me,” Evan tells him. He lets out a soft huff. “Josh- he- there was a thing. With Maddie. He was there through that, a-and he’s queer, so he’s been a good friend recently.” 

Tommy stares at him skeptically for a moment, as though he’s questioning what all of that means. Except, there’s also the part where he told Evan that he was still figuring himself out and basically needed to see other people, and from that standpoint, there’s not a lot he can do or say, especially when the man is standing in front of him telling him that even after spending time with another man, nothing has changed for him. 

“I don’t want you to feel like-..” 

“I don’t,” Evan cuts him off, gesturing between them. “I’m clear on this. On you. And I think if I was going to change my mind, that would’ve happened by now. The problem is that I kinda can’t stop being in love with you.” 

He watches Tommy gulp, sees him nod. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he rests his forehead against Evan’s. 

“I kind-of can’t stop being in love with you, either,” he replies softly. “Much as I’ve tried.” 

Evan lets out a small laugh and then leans into him, kissing him once more. 

Tommy’s arms are tight around his back this time, keeping him close as he sighs into Evan’s mouth. There’s so much to say, so much to work through from the past few months, so much to be considered in the midst of it all. But love hadn’t been a factor in the breakup, and with it on the table, it’s not something either one of them can turn away from. 

When they break apart again, Evan laughs again, and Tommy laughs with him. They remain close for a moment before Evan finally realizes the back of his sweatshirt is wet. He turns his head and glances at it, spots the coffee stain quickly. 

“Shit, sorry,” Tommy says, turning toward his truck and then back towards Evan. “I uh, I have-…” He blushes. “I have one of your hoodies in my duffel, if you want to change.” 

“That would be nice actually,” Evan responds, a smirk on his own face. Tommy nods and they cross the few feet over to his truck. He opens the back seat and pulls his duffel bag up, retrieving the blue hoodie and offering it to Evan. Evan tugs the wet one over his head, revealing a navy t-shirt that’s sinfully too tight. He swaps pieces of clothing with Tommy, who rests the wet one in his backseat before turning back to Evan. Evan’s smile is wider as his head comes through top of his hoodie. 

“Smells like you,” he states. Tommy’s own smile falters a little. 

“Yeah, I know,” he responds wistfully. Evan steps forward as he tucks his a hand into the pouch of the hoodie, uses the other to curl his finger around Tommy’s chin and pull him into another quick kiss. 

“I can solve that for you, if you’d like,” he states. Tommy is quiet for a moment and Evan is smiling at him again. “You free?” 

Tommy rolls his eyes, unable to stop the smile on his own face. “Yes, I’m free.” 

Evan nods, gesturing back towards the coffee house. “It’s a little early for a beer. Coffee?” 

Tommy glances down at the cup in his hand and then back up at Evan. “Considering half of this one is on your sweater, sure. You still owe me a drink anyway.” 

[snowbunnywatching]

How would Danish highschools and unis change after the influx of Black students? How would policies and attitudes and curricula evolve to be respectful of the new arrivals' culture? What expectations would a Danish girl face, from her friends, parents, and authorities? What would the average Danish girl's social life be like?

How would life look like in the Africanized Denmark I described here?

Education Curricula would evolve to be more respectful of Black culture, as you say.

For example, history classes would take on a more comparative perspective. Instead of just studying Danish history, students would learn that while their ancestors were burying their kings in mounds of dirt, Egyptians were building the Great Pyramid of Giza.

Physical education would also change. The focus would shift from seeing physical activity as a component of well-being to seeing it as a requirement for sexual attractiveness.

Danish gymn classes of today are big on communal activities, teaching students how to be part of a team without the competitive focus of American phys ed. The purpose of the exercises aren't to "get in shape" as much as to give students the sensation of using their bodies, resulting in little more than a pair of healthy blushing cheeks.

This would all change in Africanized Denmark. Now the focus would be on being the most attractive version of yourself that you can be.

For the guys, this would consist of muscle-building exercises, like weight-lifting and push-ups. Mostly for the Black men, of course, with white guys being encouraged to take on the role of spotter.

The atmosphere would be very masculine, and (Black) students would be allowed to decorate the locker room with their favorite pin-ups.

For the girls, gym class would start with an individual weighing in front of the entire class. Weight losses would be commended, and girls would be warned not to become "chubby".

This would be followed by strenuous exercises designed to make your tummy tighter and your butt bigger. The only cheeks blushing would be those on your backside as you went through your twerking exercises.

Critical Race Theory would also play a central role in the curriculum. Students would be encouraged to explore the historical roots and contemporary manifestations of racism. This would include exploring and apologizing for subconcious racism among the Danish students themselves. I've written more about this here.

Expectations faced by Danish girls Danish girls in particular would be expected to extend their hospitality to the new arrivals.

Posting pro-BLM material on your social media profile would be expected and considered the bare minimum. Likewise attending anti-racist rallies. As our dark-skinned guests are greeted at the border, Danish teens would be marching and chanting in protest of police brutality against Blacks.

There would also be an expectation of dating the new arrivals. As a single Danish girl you would be expected to be on at least one dating or hookup app, advertising your desire to welcome a Black man into your bed.

This pressure would especially be felt by those girls blessed with a big booty. A bona fide PAWG in a relationship with a Danish guy would be accused of "wasting" her body on a white guy when a Black man would enjoy it so much more.

[labeteenmoi]

Little rabbit

Part 2 / part 1 here / part 3 here

Fandom: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

Pairing: Anders Lassen x OC

Warnings: nothing to fear here except nudity, a little vulgarity and frustration

Words: 2031

Summary: The encounter with Edin quickly left Anders Lassen eager for more of her company and he's ready to go some lengths for it.

Notes: see part 1 for context. Keeping it short and kinky (like me) but there's a third part coming...

*****

Fitness, speed marches and weapons training were fine activities to clear one’s head and forget for a moment whatever trouble runs through the mind on a calm day. However, despite his usual commitment, there was one particular thought that kept popping in Anders Lassen’s head from time to time, in the form of a spirited young woman, and it didn’t feel at all like trouble to him.

The possibility of meeting her again at lunch time kept bringing a blissful smile on his face and somehow time ran faster than usual. But when the anticipated moment came, the hare huntress was nowhere to be seen around the canteen, and no wild boar on the menu. 

With his mood slightly impacted by disappointment, the afternoon went not as smoothly and the return to the canteen for the supper seemed to present itself just as uneventful; again, no ginger-haired girl in sight.

“Thir ye go, lads!” cheerfully went Magaidh, putting on the table a large platter overflowing with brownish mouth-watering pieces of roast meat.

“Well, it sure doesn’t look like rabbit…” remarked the young volunteer Henry Hayes, ogling at the plate with envy from his seat.

“Hare, Haysie,” gently corrected Anders whose face had finally enlightened with a cunning little smile.

“Indeed, Mr. Hayes, that’s th’boar Mr. Lassen caught this morning with ma Edin! She’s made a feast out of it fur ye boys!” proudly said the round woman. “And tis’ the blood sauce she made out of that animal as well, fur ye Mr. Lassen!” she added, holding a bowl full of a thick, silky, deep burgundy-colored sauce in front of the Danish officer.

“For me, she said?” questioned Anders with a gleam in the eyes.

“Absolutely, Mr. Lassen, er…she asked me to tell ye that blood is th’ best remedy fo’ weakened warriors.” she replied with a slightly constricted expression. The men at the table chuckled at the audacity. “But don’t ye blame her, m'eudail, she’s a bit of a mockingbird that girl.” she hastily added with a sorrowful frown, eager not to hurt Lassen’s ego.

However, the contented grin thriving on Ander’s face left no doubt of how harmless it sounded to him.

Without further ado, Gus unceremoniously stuck his fork into a piece of meat and dove it into the bowl of sauce before engulfing it with gluttony. “Bloody hell!” he mumbled with his mouth full, beaming with delight, “This is good!”

All encouraged by their Major’s example, the men all dove in and in no time the boar and its bloody sauce became a delicious memory. 

“I have to thank her for that!” Lassen exhaled with satisfaction, falling back in his chair with a tapping on his stomach.

“As we all should, Lassen!” exclaimed Gus, approved by the volunteers cheerful “yeah’s”.

“Magaidh, is Edin here, darling?” questioned Anders to the woman who had come to pick up the empty dishes.

“Am afraid not Mr. Lassen, she had finished her chores. My guess’ she’s off to th’ woods…again. That girl’s relentless, can’t ever stay put and away from those trees fur too long it seems…” she sighs, shaking her head.

“Hmm… I guess I’m out for a digestive stroll then, Major,” slightly nodded Anders with a resigned pout.

“You have fun, my good man. Mind the curfew, though.” Gus jested, mimicking Anders’ pout under his moustache. 

***

The sun was still beaming in the late afternoon, however its springly rays were starting to simmer down, and a slight mist showed its premises in the sky already, ready to settle on the ground during the night ahead. There was still enough light though to follow the slim track Edin had left behind in the forest. 

Reminding where he had found her that same morning, Anders had already supposed that’s where he would most likely find her anyway. He stood incorrected. Well, more or less. She had been where he was standing; some little scratches in the moss and fresh footsteps in the damped dirt proved him that much, and the snare traps he spotted were all set for a new catch, but she wasn’t there anymore.

The officer pressed on and walked deeper into the woods until he came to a large and beautiful expanse of peaceful water which he assumed to be the Loch Arkaig which bordered the forest. As he approached, he spotted clothes laying on the ground near the loch shore and recognized Edin’s boots and leather bag. Searching the misty surface of the loch, his eyes finally fell on a tiny head with brazen highlights moving slightly on the water line.

“Oi! Little rabbit!” Anders shouted excitedly, waving a hand when the head turned around, “that's a brilliant idea!”

Edin could not miss this colossus’ sight, even from afar in the loch. After their meeting, and especially after what she had done with the boar, she had a good feeling that she would see him again soon, but not so soon and not by surprise, again.

While she didn't know yet how bad she wanted to peek at the wonders certainly lying beneath Anders Lassen's clothes, he still managed to exceed her expectations: he was undressing. Placing his bow and arrows on the ground with gusto, he flexibly removed his training uniform down to his underwear, which he removed as well.

 That was quite something to see and for a moment she stood there, stunned, as she stared at the naked man entering the water, both impressed at his incredible shape and at his obvious lack of decency. A rather refreshing man he was. 

“What can I do fo’ ye, Mr. Lassen?” she asked with a teasing tone as he kept coming closer, “Needing my help to some fish, now?”

“That boar was quite fulfilling already, thank you…” he uttered between soft pants as he approached her swimming. Edin started discreetly swimming backwards, watching him trying to catch up to her with a slight smirk. “Isn't it risky to come here by yourself, skat*?” 

“How so ?”

“Hmm… you might have noticed but there's a military camp nearby, and it's full of lonely young men who'd er… love a feminine company.” Anders voiced between two long strokes in the water that seemed useless compared to the space still ahead. 

“Oh… I see…” she retorted with a fake worried frown. Anders enhanced the propelling movements of his arms, and so did she, now overtly trying to keep a distance between them. “Well, now that ye mention it, I think there's one of them following me… Do ye think he's after my… feminine company?”

Getting the little game she was playing on him, Lassen smirked, and pushed strongly forward, finally gaining ground in a significant way before explaining: “Well, he's not picky about company, but I think he's definitely curious about you.”

The girl started turning to change direction, seeing him getting closer by the second. “Then he better be faster to catch me…” she playfully let out, suddenly kicking the surface and splashing Anders's face with a chuckle. 

“You… Argh… Come back here, you tricky little rabbit !” he grunted cheerfully, hastily shaking the water off his glasses before jumping after the girl and grabbing her ankle before she managed to swim away. 

Edin let out a high-pitched cry when caught but laughed when he effortlessly pulled her backwards like she was weightless, bringing her against him with a cackle and holding her firmly by the waist.

“Quite the hunter, aren't ye, Mr. Lassen?” she tauntingly jested, feeling the warm firmness of his chest against her back. 

He hummed satisfiedly at the pleasantry, sliding his hands slowly over her belly under water. 

“Hmm, your skin is quite fresh, Edin.”

“Hmm, but yours’ quite hot, Anders…” she murmured, reaching for his arms and sliding her fingers over his strong hands, holding his momentum before he reached for her breasts. 

He sighed with a smile and tightened his grip around her, making obvious that he was indeed getting increasingly aroused by the contact of her bare body against his. Instead of the shocked objection a barely met decent lady would have raised for this rather inappropriate behaviour, she looked over her shoulder and addressed him with the most enigmatic cheeky look he had ever been given.

Not that he didn't think of her as decent, but there was definitely nothing ladylike about her and Lassen wasn't one to remain insensitive to such an adventurous spirit, even less when it matched his own. 

Had he known her a little bit better though, he would have guessed the mischievousness lying beneath her seductive expression when she swiftly turned around to face him, sliding  between his arms like an eel and overtly pressing her hardening breasts on his chest with a suggestive smile.

Anders hummed deeply at the soft contact with a satisfied smile. 

“Edin… Does your name have a meaning in your language ?” he muttered, seductively squinting. 

She tilted her head to the side with a soft grin. “It does… Maybe you'll find it fur yerself, Mr Lassen.”

“Well, I do love a challenge.” he facetiously nodded.

“Didn't expect it otherwise.” she confidently smirked back.

He smiled widely at her and narrowed his hold again, his hands pressing down her long hair on her back. The growing stiffness of his cock was not lost on her as she felt it twitch against her sex. She threw a swift look down, eying with undisguised rapture the furrows and curves drawn upon his chest and laid her hands on it, lasciviously running her fingers over the defined contours of his collarbones then down his thorax, so vast she could hardly embrace it with one only look at this proximity. 

As Anders leaned over slightly with his eyes upon her lips as the aim to reach, she murmured with that same eerie look that had fascinated him: “Let me show ye something, warrior. Don't move.”

The officer let her slide down slowly over his body, watching her face slowly disappear under the water line at his chest as she let herself sink, her cheek brushing his skin all along and her fingers travelling across his sides. He gasped at the sky when he felt her breasts on his cock and her hands travel across his waist, reaching for his bottom where she wandered and pleasingly groped the firm flesh. She kept on going down, invisible in the darkening waters of the early evening to his eyes, and he jerked a little at the proximity of her mouth to his sex, maliciously blowing bubbles against the hollow of his groin, his skin bristling under the wave of tingles that ran through him and lingered long enough for Edin to furtively swim away.

And suddenly nothing. The time for Lassen to come to him and she wasn’t there anymore. He frantically searched the surface around him and fell upon her emerging head already nearing the shore, looking back with a smirk.

“Well done, tricky little rabbit!” he sneered, shaking his head, “Will you come back, now?”

Edin started walking out of the water, wringing out her long hair while progressively revealing her naked body with just as much decency as he had shown before, and that kept him at a loss for words for a moment, watching her reaching for her clothes on the rocky ground.

“It’s getting quite late, Mr. Lassen,” she voiced calmly, pulling her dress over her still-soaked body, “let’s not tempt the kelpie any longer, shall we…” she added, putting on her boots.

“Edin!” Anders called out, finally starting to move across the loch.

“Ye have a good night, Mr. Lassen!” she let out with a mocking smile at him before grabbing her bag and turning her back.

“Edin, where are you going?!” he bellowed in disbelief, watching her trotting away “What’s a kelpie?!”

But she had already disappeared amongst the trees, and he gave up. The cunning girl, he thought, dreamily sighing as he let go of his foothold and let his body be carried by the water, his eyes lost on the skies, surely Edin has something to do with some Gaelic trickster god.

***

Ending Notes:

*skat : danish for "darling"

[thedarkprinceofulaid]

Sigtrygger and Rognvalder

Having prepared himself well enough for the scouting mission ahead, Finan strides to the other end of the stables where the Danish prisoners from Revna’s old fleet are being held. He has been observing a few of them, though two in particular had caught his curiosity— the pair of brothers. Seemingly, the older one was quiet and observational while the younger seemed to have a rather impulsive temperament.

Regardless, both of them followed their orders without much griping in the last few weeks, almost as if they had lost their battle to Uhtred’s men with honor. This was an admirable trait in itself. They were warriors, they were pagans. They weren’t much different from Finan’s own selected family. Part of him wanted to apologize for being so arrogant when he assisted in their enslavement, though another part of him wanted to spit at their feet and bring his fist to their faces when he remembered how they so willingly enslaved his own wife for rightfully killing their dishonorable commander.

Having spoke to one of the other Danish slaves, Finan is enlightened to some novel information: the brothers were not raised by Revna’s fleet. They had simply joined this group of Danes after their recent travels, having been driven from their settlement in Irland. Perhaps they shared a common enemy… for Finan, a very long standing one at that.

He strides toward Sigtrygger, the older brother, giving him a nod before moving to unlock the cages. Finan then nods to the side, gesturing them out and ordering them about for various tasks. Looking back at the brothers, he observes them for a moment before speaking to Sigtrygger.

“You seek land, do ya not?” The Irishman drawls. “If in time you prove yer worth, you will not live yer life as a slave. My lord is merciful and he is not a… Dane Slayer,” Finan scoffs. “He is a Dane himself. Though he is much more than that… he is an honorable man, gilded in strength and loyalty.”

@asktwodanebrothers @askuhtredragnarson @warriorabbesshild

[ultraericthered]

One Villainous Scene: Enough To Feed A Whole Army

It's serendipitous that this one come not only as Winter Is Coming, but also soon after the final episode of The Penguin, as the scene in question pulls a similar thing to what the events of that episode did.

Episode 14 of the first season of Vinland Saga, titled "The Light of Dawn", might just be the most uncomfortable episode in the series, and in any anime series. Rather oddly centering heavily around a bit character who never matters in the series narrative ever again beyond this particular episode and what it sets off for the following one, it reaches its climax when the viking army that Thorfinn, Prince Canute, Ragnar, Priest Willibald, and the rest of Ragnar's men are accompanying - y'know, our main characters - arrive at Anne's village and raids the place, rounding up all the villagers to force them out into the snowy cold while the vikings ransack all the houses to check the grand total of all supplies in the village, particularly the rations.

Only Anne managed to flee to safety but is watching what befalls her family and neighbors from a distance away. We see men, women, children, and even crying infants, all people who have done no harm to these Danish invaders whatsoever, huddled outside. Askeladd has determined that the village holds enough food for 50 people to last the winter, which comes up short for 104 soldiers. After chiding Willibald for an earlier display of defiance towards him and making a threat on his life should he do so again, Askeladd's attention is turned to the villagers as one pleads with him to let the villagers keep half of the food supply, with the other half being forfeited to the Danes. He even plays the "I have a baby!" card as an appeal to Askeladd's humanity. Only no such humanity seems to be moved in Askeladd, who dryly responds "A baby? That's rough." A stern, cold-blooded Askeladd announces to the masses that he has put all of them into consideration, and looks to ensure that none of them have to worry about going hungry during the winter...or for any winters to come for that matter. He intends to release them from their suffering, by ending the lives of all of them. Every last man, woman, and child.

At the protest of doing this to innocent civillians, Askeladd replies with only stone cold rationale - if he were to let all of them live but banish them from their home village, he'd have no food or drink to give to them that would sustain them out in the winter's cold, as he plans to keep all of the village's food and make it last for as long as they're able to stay there before winter fades, and should any one of them escape with their life, they'd be able to tell Thorkell and his forces where they are (which is indeed what ends up happening with Anne after her survival btw). As such, they all must perish. Askeladd's already had his warrior flunkies dig deep holes in the snow-covered ground to cram in up to 62 dead bodies. "But these people are Christians!" Ragnar protests. To which Askeladd gives a literal, word for word "So what?" Askeladd belongs to no conventional religious faith, and he doesn't let beliefs, affiliations, nationalities, gender or age set for him any standard of who he can or cannot shed the blood of without hesitation should the cause of the moment call for such blood to be shed. Which this moment does, as he's keen to remind Ragnar: this is what's best for Prince Canute. So with no more questions to be asked, Askeladd issues his command: "Kill them."

The massacre that follows is appalling and horrific to behold, even though very little of the butchering is shown on-screen. But what gives it its horror isn't what's transpiring, but how and why it is, and by who's hand. Askeladd is the true protagonist of Vinland Saga's Prologue Arc (its first season in the anime) in many regards, and we've followed him up to this point and continue to follow him even afterwards. The insights into his past and how it shaped his present character, the glimmers of deeply held convictions, motivations, and beliefs we get out of him that offset his usual devil may care attitude, his badass warrior spirit and charming personality endear him to us and allow us to be invested in his actions that drive the plot forward. He is in fact so charismatic that the viewer will likely be so enraptured by him to the point of wanting to follow him, of wanting to root for his success, of disregarding or perhaps even forgetting the basic fact of who and what Askeladd is, which is what he's always been from the moment we met him: a remorseless, merciless, spiritually detached, machiavellian and oftentimes cruel mass murderer. He's not a man, he's a beast. He knows he's a beast, and he laments it only as often as he relishes it. The same man capable of murdering Thors in such a despicably underhanded, craven way is of course capable of ordering the bloody massacre of an entire village full of innocent civillians under rationalizations of taking life and butchering bodies when such evils are deemed "necessary" by him. He feels nothing about seeing people all the way down to literal babies get dispatched of swiftly but no less brutally and painfully. To him it's all just part of how he lives his life being the man he is and doing what a man like him does. But to us in the audience who've by this point bonded with him in a way and have come around to trusting, supporting, and liking the bastard, this moment comes in like a knife in the back or through the throat to serve as a wake-up call that pulls no punches. We see Askeladd and his viking crew through the eyes of non-players not affiliated with them and who know nothing of them that we've gotten to know, and it reminds us of the ugly truth of what callous, barbaric, inhumane monsters these people are to others.

And just as disturbing? The silent complicity of Thorfinn and Canute. They're a part of this too. They also own it. The blood of the innocent soaks their hands as well, even if neither one lifted a single weapon against a single villager. This is where the path you follow Askeladd down inevitably leads, and it will weigh on their souls forevermore.

[nedstarkfortnite]

Mikey reads ASOIAF: Eddard IX AGOT

Short summary: On his way back from Littlefinger’s brothel Ned is ambushed by Jaime Lannister. He takes a bad fall and the world flickers and fades as his men are butchered…

This will definitely be a short review/examination/whatever you want to call these posts. Thoughts and feelings and analysis? 

As you may have figured out by now I actually watched the show before I read the books. Yes, I know, you don’t need to throw rotten vegetables at me, this was a mistake. Listen, I was maybe Daenerys’ age and I saw a funny MLG video of the Red Wedding and decided to give the show a try. Things just happen sometimes. Without it I wouldn’t have picked up these books, and I’m glad for both medias. 

Anyway what I wanted to say is that Nikolai Coster-Waldau looks so banging in this confrontation. Purr 💅💅💅💅 He’s one of the Nordic actors by the way for those of you not in the know, he’s Danish. The second actor for the Three Eyed Raven, Max von Sydow, is Swedish, Euron is played by Danish actor Pilou Asbæk and Tormund’s actor Kristofer Hivju is quite violently Norwegian if you check out interviews lol. Can’t find any notable Finnish or Icelandic actors, but there may have been some extras or background characters.

Where was I? Sorry, back to the actual book. 

It’s so fucked what happens to Barra later on. Just imagine her mother’s perspective for a moment. She, a teenage girl, had to serve the king, luckily he was not as violent as some other men can be and so she decided to keep the baby and probably felt quite special and happy about this blood tie to the royal family. She endures pregnancy, brings a girl into the world and is delighted to have a daughter to show the Hand when he pays her a visit. This is her opportunity to make a better life for herself and Barra, to escape poverty and at least be paid decently enough to find a good job opportunity and perhaps a husband. Things are finally looking bright…

But the next time the great players turn their attention to this young woman her daughter is ripped from her arms and slain in cold blood on the orders of Cersei Lannister. She’s traumatized and devastated, and stuck being a prostitute unless her grief is too much and she ends up killing herself.

Jesus. Poor woman. It truly is the common folk who suffer the worst in this story.

“"Chataya runs a choice establishment," Littlefinger said as they rode. "I've half a mind to buy it. Brothels are a much sounder invest-ment than ships, I've found. Whores seldom sink, and when they are boarded by pirates, why, the pirates pay good coin like everyone else." Lord Petyr chuckled at his own wit.”

Genuinely convinced he hates women in the books. This isn’t the first time Petyr Baelish just casually drops an insanely demeaning and belittling comment about women or their situation. Littlefinger is one of those characters I have a love-hate relationship with because on one hand he can be absolutely hilarious, but on the other he is so gross and weird. Grrr. Among the top ten characters who would benefit from therapy for sure.

“"Robert will never keep to one bed," Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature."”

This does raise some questions though, doesn’t it? Why was Lyanna, who is seemingly quite against infidelity, convinced by Rhaegar to carry his child when he was already married with kids of his own? George needs to finish this series because this story in particular really needs a conclusion. How long has it been since people first began to brain rot on it? 30 years? Yep, it’s been almost 30 years since the first book came out. Feeling old yet? 

I don’t expect any of you to know the answer, but I’d love to hear some thoughts on it.

So Ned leaves knowing Robert has at least a couple bastard children that he knows of, but is none the wiser for it. Supposedly Cersei killed two of them. What do we reckon? It isn’t that hard to believe considering that she went after the others when Robert was out of the picture.

“For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegar Targaryen. He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not.”

The prostitutes weren’t highborn enough for the prophecy lol. Also what do you MEAN you haven’t thought of Rhaegar in YEARS Ned. WHAT. Even if Lyanna wasn’t abducted this is just wild. 

Jaime appears, blocking the way back to the Red Keep with his men. Uh oh sisters!

Ned says Jaime “knows what he is doing”. Perhaps he means he’s acting on Tywin’s orders? Or does he simply mean Jaime has a clear purpose in seeking him out? In any case ominous as hell to say that out loud.

I wonder if Littlefinger’s regretting his clever little scheme now. Maybe he wasn’t expecting Ned to take the fall for Catelyn. I’m not sure I would’ve done the same in his shoes, which is why he’s a better man than I would be. Kind of nice to see how he defends her here though.

Jaime dunks on women’s honor and then proceeds to order Ned Stark’s men butchered like a coward. Dude. I get you’re wrongfully loathed for going against your vows when it was absolutely the right thing to do and that you're scorned by this backlash, but this isn’t helping now is it?

Not sure how much the discourse differs between book and show, but I do vividly remember people being VERY quick to just let Jaime off the hook for this stunt. He needed to make that long walk of atonement he takes in the book, but for some people it was enough to hear him just confess the truth about Aerys’ murder to Brienne. Idk man, I want to see Jaime do a little bit more than that.

Ned is injured and being tended to by Pycelle. Wouldn’t trust him but hey, maybe the other Lannisters realized what a shitshow this was. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the scene with Tywin gutting the stag and having a conversation with Jaime is a show-only scene right? I could definitely see it being canon in the books. Tywin might be brutal but he also prefers to stay in important people’s good graces for as long as possible. He didn’t march on King’s Landing until Rhaegar was dead, which says a lot given how many bones he had to pick with Aerys. Anyhow Ned is feverish and barely conscious and out of the game for quite a while.

RIP Jory, Wyl and Ned’s leg (and presumably some other guy I can't remember the name of)

[dailyanarchistposts]

Appendix VII: The Origin of the Family

At the time when I wrote the chapter inserted in the text, a certain accord seemed to have been established amongst anthropologists concerning the relatively late appearance, in the institutions of men, of the patriarchal family, such as we know it among the Hebrews, or in Imperial Rome. However, works have been published since, in which the ideas promulgated by Bachofen and MacLennan, systematized especially by Morgan, and further developed and confirmed by Post, Maxim Kovalevsky, and Lubbock, were contested — the most important of such works being by the Danish Professor, C.N. Starcke (Primitive Family, 1889), and by the Helsingfors Professor, Edward Westermarck (The History of Human Marriage, 1891; 2nd ed. 1894). The same has happened with this question of primitive marriage institutions as it happened with the question of the primitive land-ownership institutions. When the ideas of Maurer and Nasse on the village community developed by quite a school of gifted explorers, and those of all modern anthropologists upon the primitively communistic constitution of the clan had nearly won general acceptance — they called forth the appearance of such works as those of Fustel de Coulanges in France, the Oxford Professor Seebohm in England, and several others, in which an attempt was made — with more brilliancy than real depth of investigation — to undermine these ideas and to cast a doubt upon the conclusions arrived at by modern research (see Prof. Vinogradov’s Preface to his remarkable work, Villainage in England). Similarly, when the ideas about the non-existence of the family at the early tribal stage of mankind began to be accepted by most anthropologists and students of ancient law, they necessarily called forth such works as those of Starcke and Westermarck, in which man was represented, in accordance with the Hebrew tradition, as having started with the family, evidently patriarchal, and never having passed through the stages described by MacLennan, Bachofen, or Morgan. These works, of which the brilliantly-written History of Human Marriage has especially been widely read, have undoubtedly produced a certain effect: those who have not had the opportunity of reading the bulky volumes related to the controversy became hesitating; while some anthropologists, well acquainted with the matter, like the French Professor Durkheim, took a conciliatory, but somewhat undefined attitude.

For the special purpose of a work on Mutual Aid, this controversy may be irrelevant. The fact that men have lived in tribes from the earliest stages of mankind, is not contested, even by those who feel shocked at the idea that man may have passed through a stage when the family as we understand it did not exist. The subject, however, has its own interest and deserves to be mentioned, although it must be remarked that a volume would be required to do it full justice.

When we labour to lift the veil that conceals from us ancient institutions, and especially such institutions as have prevailed at the first appearance of beings of the human type, we are bound — in the necessary absence of direct testimony — to accomplish a most painstaking work of tracing backwards every institution, carefully noting even its faintest traces in habits, customs, traditions, songs, folklore, and so on; and then, combining the separate results of each of these separate studies, to mentally reconstitute the society which would answer to the co-existence of all these institutions. One can consequently understand what a formidable array of facts, and what a vast number of minute studies of particular points is required to come to any safe conclusion. This is exactly what one finds in the monumental work of Bachofen and his followers, but fails to find in the works of the other school. The mass of facts ransacked by Prof. Westermarck is undoubtedly great enough, and his work is certainly very valuable as a criticism; but it hardly will induce those who know the works of Bachofen, Morgan, MacLennan, Post, Kovalevsky, etc., in the originals, and are acquainted with the village-community school, to change their opinions and accept the patriarchal family theory.

Thus the arguments borrowed by Westermarck from the familiar habits of the primates have not, I dare say, the value which he attributes to them. Our knowledge about the family relations amongst the sociable species of monkeys of our own days is extremely uncertain, while the two unsociable species of orang-outan and gorilla must be ruled out of discussion, both being evidently, as I have indicated in the text, decaying species. Still less do we know about the relations which existed between males and females amongst the primates towards the end of the Tertiary period. The species which lived then are probably all extinct, and we have not the slightest idea as to which of them was the ancestral form which Man sprung from. All we can say with any approach to probability is, that various family and tribe relations must have existed in the different ape species, which were extremely numerous at that time; and that great changes must have taken place since in the habits of the primates, similarly to the changes that took place, even within the last two centuries, in the habits of many other mammal species.

The discussion must consequently be limited entirely to human institutions; and in the minute discussion of each separate trace of each early institution, in connection with all that we know about every other institution of the same people or the same tribe, lies the main force of the argument of the school which maintains that the patriarchal family is an institution of a relatively late origin.

There is, in fact, quite a cycle of institutions amongst primitive men, which become fully comprehensible if we accept the ideas of Bachofen and Morgan, but are utterly incomprehensible otherwise. Such are: the communistic life of the clan, so long as it was not split up into separate paternal families; the life in long houses, and in classes occupying separate long houses according to the age and stage of initiation of the youth (M. Maclay, H. Schurz); the restrictions to personal accumulation of property of which several illustrations are given above, in the text; the fact that women taken from another tribe belonged to the whole tribe before becoming private property; and many similar institutions analyzed by Lubbock. This wide cycle of institutions, which fell into decay and finally disappeared in the village-community phase of human development, stand in perfect accord with the “tribal marriage” theory; but they are mostly left unnoticed by the followers of the patriarchal family school. This is certainly not the proper way of discussing the problem. Primitive men have not several superposed or juxtaposed institutions as we have now. They have but one institution, the clan, which embodies all the mutual relations of the members of the clan. Marriage-relations and possession-relations are clan-relations. And the last that we might expect from the defenders of the patriarchal family theory would be to show us how the just mentioned cycle of institutions (which disappear later on) could have existed in an agglomeration of men living under a system contradictory of such institutions — the system of separate families governed by the pater familias.

Again, one cannot recognize scientific value in the way in which certain serious difficulties are set aside by the promoters of the patriarchal family theory. Thus, Morgan has proved by a considerable amount of evidence that a strictly-kept “classificatory group system” exists with many primitive tribes, and that all the individuals of the same category address each other as if they were brothers and sisters, while the individuals of a younger category will address their mothers’ sisters as mothers, and so on. To say that this must be a simple façon de parler — a way of expressing respect to age — is certainly an easy method of getting rid of the difficulty of explaining, why this special mode of expressing respect, and not some other, has prevailed among so many peoples of different origin, so as to survive with many of them up to the present day? One may surely admit that ma and pa are the syllables which are easiest to pronounce for a baby, but the question is — Why this part of “baby language” is used by full-grown people, and is applied to a certain strictly-defined category of persons? Why, with so many tribes in which the mother and her sisters are called ma, the father is designated by tiatia (similar to diadia — uncle), dad, da or pa? Why the appellation of mother given to maternal aunts is supplanted later on by a separate name? And so on. But when we learn that with many savages the mother’s sister takes as responsible a part in bringing up a child as the mother itself, and that, if death takes away a beloved child, the other “mother” (the mother’s sister) will sacrifice herself to accompany the child in its journey into the other world — we surely see in these names something much more profound than a mere façon de parler, or a way of testifying respect. The more so when we learn of the existence of quite a cycle of survivals (Lubbock, Kovalevsky, Post have fully discussed them), all pointing in the same direction. Of course it may be said that kinship is reckoned on the maternal side “because the child remains more with its mother,” or we may explain the fact that a man’s children by several wives of different tribes belong to their mothers’ clans in consequence of the savages’ ignorance of physiology;” but these are not arguments even approximately adequate to the seriousness of the questions involved — especially when it is known that the obligation of bearing the mother’s name implies belonging to the mother’s clan in all respects: that is, involves a right to all the belongings of the maternal clan, as well as the right of being protected by it, never to be assailed by any one of it, and the duty of revenging offences on its behalf.

Even if we were to admit for a moment the satisfactory nature of such explanations, we should soon find out that a separate explanation has to be given for each category of such facts — and they are very numerous. To mention but a few of them, there is: the division of clans into classes, at a time when there is no division as regards property or social condition; exogamy and all the consequent customs enumerated by Lubbock; the blood covenant and a series of similar customs intended to testify the unity of descent; the appearance of family gods subsequent to the existence of clan gods; the exchange of wives which exists not only with Eskimos in times of calamity, but is also widely spread among many other tribes of a quite different origin; the looseness of nuptial ties the lower we descend in civilization; the compound marriages — several men marrying one wife who belongs to them in turns; the abolition of the marriage restrictions during festivals, or on each fifth, sixth, etc., day; the cohabitation of families in “long houses”; the obligation of rearing the orphan falling, even at a late period, upon the maternal uncle; the considerable number of transitory forms showing the gradual passage from maternal descent to paternal descent; the limitation of the number of children by the clan — not by the family — and the abolition of this harsh clause in times of plenty; family restrictions coming after the clan restrictions; the sacrifice of the old relatives to the tribe; the tribal lex talionis and many other habits and customs which become a “family matter” only when we find the family, in the modern sense of the word, finally constituted; the nuptial and pre-nuptial ceremonies of which striking illustrations may be found in the work of Sir John Lubbock, and of several modern Russian explorers; the absence of marriage solemnities where the line of descent is matriarchal, and the appearance of such solemnities with tribes following the paternal line of descent — all these and many others[317] showing that, as Durckheim remarks, marriage proper “is only tolerated and prevented by antagonist forces;” the destruction at the death of the individual of what belonged to him personally; and finally, all the formidable array of survivals,[318] myths (Bachofen and his many followers), folklore, etc., all telling in the same direction.

Of course, all this does not prove that there was a period when woman was regarded as superior to man, or was the “head” of the clan; this is a quite distinct matter, and my personal opinion is that no such period has ever existed; nor does it prove that there was a time when no tribal restrictions to the union of sexes existed — this would have been absolutely contrary to all known evidence. But when all the facts lately brought to light are considered in their mutual dependency, it is impossible not to recognize that if isolated couples, with their children, have possibly existed even in the primitive clan, these incipient families were tolerated exceptions only, not the institution of the time.

[sihtricsimp]

Modern!Revolution!Sihtric x Femme!OC

Chapter 1

Warnings: Death, war, guns, shooting, death

Based on this photo (thanks to one of my fellow Nowallian mutuals for finding it for me <3)

Most people would be thrilled to be one of the top pilots from one of the most powerful nations in Europe. Ellia, however, was growing tired of being perfect all the time. Growing tired of their leader seemingly doing nothing about the invading Northmen, spouting peace like it was gospel, yet continuing the hellish war effort as if Satan had possessed him. His war with the incoming Danes, who just wanted a new home after theirs was almost destroyed by storms, his refusal to acknowledge the rebellion so clearly growing right under his nose. It almost made one want to join the rebellion oneself.

But, just like everyone else, Ellia had grown used to her position, afraid of what might happen if they lost even a little of their power. People she had trusted and thought were good to their core were now selfish and complacent, not caring about the lives of their soldiers. General Athelflead, leader of the RAF and daughter to their ever-gracious leader, King Alfred, was one of those people. She had taught Ellia how to fly and was the one to give her the callsign of "Finch". A small bird was perfect for the shortest, and as some of the men would say, prettiest Commander in the Royal Air Force.

General Aethelflead brought Ellia out of her thoughts with a "Well, what do you think, Finch?"

Ellia placed her helmet down on the table with a sigh, "I think it's another suicide mission. Juker, Scramble, Uno, and I just barely survived our last mission to the Danish foothold. We lost eight good pilots in a single dogfight. We should focus on peace talks with Prime Minister Aethelred in Mercia so we can reinforce our dwindling presence in Northumbria!"

"I am well aware of the dire situation in Northumbria," Aethelflead said, "but we can't send the forces there without risking our own borders to the Danes. My father would never approve of the mission, you know this."

"Just because I know it, doesn't make it right." Ellia looked at her mentor, who rose her eyebrows expectantly. "But yes, if it is our holy duty from God, we shall carry it out."

Athelflead nodded. "You leave at 0600 tomorrow. Take the remainder of your squad. Since this is a stealth mission, you can use the new S-40s."

"But we haven't had much-" Ellia was about to protest when Aethelflead raised a hand.

"You and your squad are dismissed, Finch." Aethelflead used her other hand to rub her temple in frustration. "You will need ample time to prepare, will you not?"

"Yes, ma'am." Ellia tried to not let her tone become sarcastic as she saluted the General, and marched towards the barracks, the rest of the squad following suit.

On their way to the barracks, they passed by the War Room, a name given somewhat affectionately to the main meeting room of the facility. It was where all the important meetings took place, and from the look of things, the King was holding an important one. Ellia and her squad were fully intent on just walking past. None of them, Ellia, in particular, had the patience to deal with the incompetence and idiocy of the King and his other generals. King Alfred, sitting side on to the door, had other ideas.

"Ah, Commander Ellia, is it? Just the pilot I wanted to see!" He said looking up from the war table. Of course, he had to be sitting right by the open door.

Ellia suppressed a sigh. Here was the man who was responsible for her friends' deaths. Yet, she could do nothing about it unless she wanted to join her fallen comrades in whatever came next.

"Yes sir, Commander Ellia Goldstrum, callsign Finch, at your service." She gave a quick salute, her three squadmates following suit.

"At ease, ladies." The King stood and motioned for the squad to enter the room. As they did so, Ellia noticed the distinct lack of anyone else other than old white men in the room. With Athelflead out on duty, the major war decisions were being made by crusty Generals who hadn't seen real combat since before Ellia was born. "I know you four have had some contact with the rebellion while on your last flight?" The King continued.

"No, sir, those were Danes we fought. They flew Danish planes that carried Danish insignia, and wore Danish uniforms." Ellia was quickly loosing patience. To be sent on the same suicide mission the following day by the daughter, to then be questioned about the first mission by the father.

"We have credible intelligence from my nephew that the Danes have a shaky alliance with the Rebellion, so they are using Danish equipment." Alfred, as per usual, was calm and composed, even when talking about the savages on the other side.

It made sense that the Danes and the Rebellion would ally themselves, they both had a vendetta against Alfred. The shakiness also seemed correct, as the leader of the Rebellion was known to most as the Daneslayer.

"So you want us to go and confirm this intelligence, then?" Ellia guessed. The crown had a habit of telling its soldiers where to fly and who to fight without saying why, expecting blind loyalty until the last breath. This tracked with Ellia's experience with Christianity. Blind faith without question. Ellia was quite comfortable living in hidden godlessness, knowing there was no risk of burning eternally for her, just the calm nothingness of the void.

After a pause, the King replied, "Yes, we need the intelligence confirmed, but we didn't want you to know in case you got captured by them. They don't need to know that we know about their alliance."

"Can do, sir." Was the only words Ellia could get out without losing her cool. The only reason they were risking their lives was to confirm intelligence? Something spies could easily have done? It was bullshit.

"Dismissed, ladies. You'll need all the rest you can get for tomorrow." The King raised his hand, shooing them away, before turning back to his council. They started talking as Ellia and her squad marched away, but they were all engrossed in their own thoughts to hear what was said.

Ellia only relaxed when they got back to their shared barracks near the flight deck. There were two bunk beds, and they each got a draw to themselves in the dresser, the only other piece of furniture in the room. The higher-ups reckoned they didn't need to waste money on a window to the outside world when their pilots were spending all day in the air regardless.

"I want to defect to the Daneslayer's rebellion more with each passing mission" Juker complained, once they were safely back in their shared bunk room, out of the earshot of their superiors. "I mean, we're flying the exact same path as we did last time, the path that got Candy and Wolf's squads downed." Everyone was draped across their bunks, Juker above Ellia, and Uno above Scramble.

"You find us the rebellion stronghold, and I'll be right there with ya, Juker." Scramble joked, flicking through the same 'Kilted Men' magazine she'd had since forever, a smile on her face.

Leaning over her bunk to look at Scramble, Uno laughed, "Ha! Good luck, their base is harder to find than I am to beat at card games!" Uno always bragged about her winning streak in every card game they played, specifically in her callsign namesake, that was only still a streak because everyone refused to play with her.

"Ya know, I'm still convinced ya cheat every time." Scramble glanced up from her magazine to roll her eyes at Uno.

Uno gasped, her hand going to her forehead, pretending to faint. "Me? Cheat? Why, I would never!"

"Except for when you definitely dealt both Jokers into your hand in Scum," Juker added, getting an offended look from Uno.

"Multiple times, might I add." Ellia enjoyed joining in on her squad's antics, even if it was just one small jab in the middle of a faux argument. She watched the other three joke around, laughing their asses off at something another said, thinking of the love they had for each other. It had been a tough few years for them, and they all needed all of the love and laughter they could get.

Juker and Ellia had come from the same small village on the southern coast. They were only separated for a few months since joining the RAF when Juker crashed into a mountain after avoiding an enemy aircraft and had to hike back to base.

Scramble was from Ireland and had lost her husband somewhere along the way, their baby daughter dying from a chill while she made her way to Wessex with her. Uno, however, was born and raised in Wessex and used flying as a way to see the world and get out of her city life bubble.

Once the sun started to set, and they all had their nightly rations, Ellia called lights out.

"Oh, come on Finch, five more minutes?" Uno protested as Ellia reached for the switch.

"Do you want to be falling asleep at your yoke tomorrow, Uno?"

"I guess falling asleep at the controls a few thousand meters in the air would be bad for my health." Uno conceded, slipping under her sheets.

"Right, 0400 wake up call tomorrow morning, be ready ladies." Ellia turned the lights off, having received a resounding 'yes ma'am' from her squad.

The mission started off well. The S40s were able to climb higher, move faster, carry more ammo than the typical stealth jet, and had much better on board surveillance tech than the S30s. And they were fun to fly.

The squad was formed in a diamond shape, Ellia taking the lead position. Uno was to her left, Scramble on her right and Juker taking up the rear.

"We're coming up on the Danish settlement, Finch.” Juker said, “Break through these clouds and we should see it.”

“Copy that, Juker,” Ellia said. They were at the same location as last time, she recognised the longitude and latitude. She felt her chest sink out of sadness and anxiety. What if there was another ambush? Ellia couldn’t take losing another pilot. “Radio silence from now on, communicate by hand signals. Don’t want the heathens to know they’re being spied on by girls. Let’s just get in and out ladies.”

Ellia received thumbs up from her flanks, and she trusted Juker enough to know she’d listen. They flew in silence for most of the way, but something about this new silence felt heavier. Maybe it was the weight of their former friends and pilots sitting on their soldiers. Or maybe the very air the Danes breathed was toxic.

Ellia didn’t get time to dwell on it though, as they broke through the child’s high above the Danish base. They were high enough up to not be easily spotted by radar or the naked eye, but their powerful cameras allowed them to get a good view of the base.

She saw too much equipment for the Danish army around the base. A few more planes, plenty more trucks and boxes around the buildings, with doubtless more under cover.

The intel gathered by the King’s nephew was correct. The Rebellion had allied themselves with the Danes. Neither the Danes nor the Rebellion had this many resources individually.

Ellia noted down the number of planes and trucks she saw, and made her best approximation on the weapons caches she could see.

She was about to give the back to base signal when a red blip appeared on the edge of her radar. That usually meant a bogey, and they usually hung around. However, it disappeared almost as quick as it had appeared. Glancing to her right, Scramble gave a shrug. Ellia made the eyes up gesture to Scramble. She then turned to give the signal to Uno.

Suddenly, as if like a ghost, a Danish plane flew over Uno’s plane, then the rest of the squad. It had a custom paint job on it’s belly, a Mjolnir symbol, as far as Ellia could make out.

“Alright, comms back on, they know we’re here. Game faces, he might not be alone.” Ellia said, “we might not have much experience in these planes, but God be damned if we aren’t the best pilots in all of Britannia.”

Ellia’s eyes tracked the Danish plane, but it quickly disappeared into the clouds. It was a bad idea to follow it, since it could clearly hide itself from radar.

Before Ellia could even finish her thought, gunfire reigned overhead. The Dane had banked around to behind them.

“Break!” Ellia shouted, Banking left with Uno, Scramble, and Juker going to the right. The pilot had made a mistake, the pilot had alerted them to their presence too early, leaving the squad plenty of time to shoot at the pilot.

Ellia pulled her trigger, bullets flying through the air. The pilot dodged the bullets, pulling up only to reveal a second aircraft. Ellia barely had time to register the four leaf clovers adorning each wing before she herself was hit by the new contender.

The next thing she knew, she woke up, still strapped to her seat. The first thing she noticed was another wreckage next to her, one of her squad members it looked like. Ellia couldn't make out who it was, but whoever was inside wasn't moving.

She scrambled out of her plane as fast as she could and rushed over to the wreck, the adrenaline covering any pain Ellia doubtlessly had. She reached the wreck. Forced open the cockpit. Lifted the head of the pilot.

Ellia screamed, jumping back from the downed jet. Juker. It couldn't be Juker. Juker couldn't be gone. She was known for her evasive maneuvers. She couldn't have been shot down. If anyone was going to survive this mission, it was going to be her.

Ellia tried to compose herself as she climbed the wreck again, to check again. Definitely Juker. She dipped her ear to Juker's mouth. No breath. Tears streamed down Ellia's cheeks, scattering both hers and Juker's bloodstained flight suits.

As she took the dog tags from around Juker's neck, Ellia heard a twig snap behind her. She drew the gun from the holster on her hip, pointing at the noise.

"Commander, it's us..." Scramble said, hands raised.

"What's wrong, Finch?" Uno walked up to the edge of the wreck, "Why have you got Juker's dog tags?"

Ellia sat down on the edge of the cockpit, revealing Juker to the others. She broke down into sobs as they started crying too. Ellia, mid sob, slipped Juker's dog tags on and got down from the plane.

"Right," she sniffled, "Juker would want us to keep moving, find our way back. And I think I may need a bandage for my arm." Now that the adrenaline had worn off a bit, she could feel a good gash in her left arm, going from shoulder to elbow. "I think it's shallow at least, otherwise I would have bled out a while ago."

"You're right, we need to find shelter, and get your would cleaned." Scrambler wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You think we can chance it with the Danes?" Uno joked. She always tried to lighten the mood, no matter how dire the situation was. They were stranded in enemy territory with no way to contact home, and no one coming after them.

"We have less of a chance with the Danes than you have at losing at cards," Scrambler replied.

Before they could come to a conclusion, a Danish pilot came into view from behind Juker's wreck.

"So you ladies come here often?" He said, his messy hair covering his eyes slightly.

"Who the fuck are you, Daneboy?" Ellia drew her gun for the second time, followed closely by the others.

"Commander Goldstrum, is it? My name is Sihtric Kjartansson, callsign Runt, with the Rebellion. I am to take you and your squad to the Daneslayer."

[cleverhottubmiracle]

We independently evaluate all recommended products and services. Any products or services put forward appear in no particular order. if you click on links we provide, we may receive compensation. The baseball cap has long been one of menswear’s most polarising accessories and the focus of a fierce debate: does donning a brimmed, bonce cover elevate your look to the ‘peak’ of all that is stylish and contemporary? Or is it a one-way ticket to the sartorial naughty step? It’s an argument that has split the fashion world down the middle for decades, but as time progresses, a growing number of men are beginning to realise that, like beanies, the real question isn’t if we should wear them, but how to wear them. The History Of The Baseball Cap Unless you’re completely oblivious, it probably won’t come as much of a surprise to learn that the baseball cap was first brought into existence by a baseball team. That team was the Brooklyn Excelsiors and the year was 1860. But it was another half a century before the concept fully took off. After 1900, the baseball cap became an important means by which to identify teams, as well as offering the practical benefit of keeping the sun out of players’ peepers while pitching and hitting their way around the diamond. The explosion of television sports in the 20th century brought the baseball cap into people’s homes and onto their heads. Suddenly, the piqued interest in the peaked accessory saw it become a part of the everyday man’s casual uniform. The idea of only ever wearing one on the field was now – pun fully intended – old hat. “[Today] it plays to the wider trend of sportswear infusing contemporary wardrobes,” says Nick Paulson-Ellis, founder of online sportswear store The Sports Edit. “Combine this with the influence of hip-hop figures like Jay-Z and his much beloved New York Yankees cap, celebrities wearing them incognito, and even Gucci adding upscale versions to recent catwalk shows, and it’s plain to see why the baseball cap will always have a place as a staple menswear accessory.” However, this modern essential’s wide range of variations mean it’s a famously tricky item to style. So, when it comes to picking one out, stick to these tried and tested favourites to guarantee yourself a home run. 6 Key Baseball Cap Styles The Snapback With its flat peak, six-panel construction and structured design, the snapback cap has become uniform for Major League heavy hitters, hip-hop heroes, hairy hipsters and countless others in between. Its name comes from the snap-closure to the back of the hat, but adjustable ‘strapback’ versions are also common. If you were looking for a classic, this is it. The Five Panel With its roots in performance cycling, the five-panel cap became an unlikely skateboarding icon in the 1990s, before finding its spiritual home in the the streetwear world. Favoured for its rounded, low-profile shape, the five-panel was immortalised by skate stalwarts like Supreme and Danish minimalists Norse Projects, both of which made this hat style its headwear calling card, sparking thousands of imitations. The Trucker Okay, we’ll put our hands up. We know the trucker cap isn’t exactly a must-have in the hat world. In fact, thanks to Von Dutch, Ashton Kutcher and, well, truckers, it’s quite the opposite. But there’s still hope. Pick out the right one, team it with the right gear and it might just be possible to make this mesh-panelled pariah palatable once again. The Dad Cap The dad cap is a hat style that has been around for years, but it’s only recently that it got its name. So-called because of its resemblance to the sort of thing your old man would wear (obviously), it’s often characterised by a simple curved-peak design, unstructured body and additional details such as a faded appearance, it’s a simple lid that’s a good place to start for beginners. The Sports Cap The traditional baseball cap may have been brought into this world by sport, but that was over a 100 years ago. These days there’s no shortage of high-tech, lightweight fabrics and cutting-edge manufacturing processes that would make the athletes of yesteryear cry witch and probably have the CEO of Nike burned at the stake or something. Premium Fashion’s role in forcing the baseball cap to grow up can’t be emphasised enough. The introduction of quality materials, textured fabrics and stripped-back, minimalist designs helped to turn headgear from something out of Fred Durst’s walk-in wardrobe to a stylish accessory that could, at a push, even be worn with tailoring. How To Wear A Cap Luxe Minimalism We men owe a lot to those stylish Scandinavians, so what better way to doff a cap to them than by going understated, clean and minimal in the headwear department? And everywhere else, for that matter. Tactile fabrics like suede, wool and corduroy are all great options for affording your headgear a touch of luxury; particularly when paired with classic wardrobe staples such as a lightweight jacket and slim-fit chinos. Summer Ready When it comes to true summer essentials, a baseball cap is up there with warm tins of beer, a sand-filled picnic and sunscreen. But more than just being a way of avoiding forcibly squinting at the sun, the right style can also add some personality to a bog standard shorts and T-shirt look. On warmer days down at the beach or in the beer garden, use your cap to tie your outfit together by picking one in the same colour as another part of your outfit – be it your shirt or your sandals. Just make sure your chosen topper also goes with the other layers in your bag for when day drinking inevitably becomes a night session. Tonal Tailoring If you’d told someone in the nineties that in two decades’ time people would be wearing baseball caps with suits , they’d probably have choked on their 3D Doritos and dropped their Walkman. Yet, here we are. This look is as contemporary as they come, and the perfect way to wear a cap without looking like an angsty teenager. Simply pair a plain, premium-looking cap with an unstructured blazer worn over a T-shirt and finish with and a pair of crisp sneakers. Even someone from the nineties couldn’t say that doesn’t look great. From The Streets The love affair between high fashion and streetwear is still very much in its honeymoon period. However, the look can be more than a little OTT for most people’s tastes. So before you rock up to the pub in a floor-length Vetements anorak and a pair of Ozweegos, consider giving a nod to the scene in a more subtle manner. Opt for a 5-panel or dad cap style, along with a hoodie or logo T-shirt and some cropped trousers or jeans. That way you can embrace the streetwear aesthetic in public, without looking like a try-hard. Transitional Topper The two annual periods of limbo between the scorching heat of one season and the frigid cold of the next can be notoriously difficult to dress for. But ditching the bobble hat or bare head for a baseball cap is a great place to start. Navigate such style seas with a wool/twill cap (depending on season), then throw on your favourite transitional jacket and layer underneath accordingly. Tips For Wearing A Baseball Cap Take the sticker off the brim, for the love of God. You’re not 50 Cent. Make sure it fits snug on your head (big or small). There’s nothing like frantically chasing a windswept cap down the street to ruin your carefree look. On the same note, make sure it’s not cutting off your circulation. A big red line across your forehead isn’t likely to elevate your look either. Wear it backwards seldomly and carefully. Never wear it sideways. Opt for simplicity over showiness wherever possible. A plain cap is classier and will go with more of your wardrobe. If you’re going to wear a cap for the day, make sure hat hair isn’t going to be an issue later on. Source link

[norajworld]

We independently evaluate all recommended products and services. Any products or services put forward appear in no particular order. if you click on links we provide, we may receive compensation. The baseball cap has long been one of menswear’s most polarising accessories and the focus of a fierce debate: does donning a brimmed, bonce cover elevate your look to the ‘peak’ of all that is stylish and contemporary? Or is it a one-way ticket to the sartorial naughty step? It’s an argument that has split the fashion world down the middle for decades, but as time progresses, a growing number of men are beginning to realise that, like beanies, the real question isn’t if we should wear them, but how to wear them. The History Of The Baseball Cap Unless you’re completely oblivious, it probably won’t come as much of a surprise to learn that the baseball cap was first brought into existence by a baseball team. That team was the Brooklyn Excelsiors and the year was 1860. But it was another half a century before the concept fully took off. After 1900, the baseball cap became an important means by which to identify teams, as well as offering the practical benefit of keeping the sun out of players’ peepers while pitching and hitting their way around the diamond. The explosion of television sports in the 20th century brought the baseball cap into people’s homes and onto their heads. Suddenly, the piqued interest in the peaked accessory saw it become a part of the everyday man’s casual uniform. The idea of only ever wearing one on the field was now – pun fully intended – old hat. “[Today] it plays to the wider trend of sportswear infusing contemporary wardrobes,” says Nick Paulson-Ellis, founder of online sportswear store The Sports Edit. “Combine this with the influence of hip-hop figures like Jay-Z and his much beloved New York Yankees cap, celebrities wearing them incognito, and even Gucci adding upscale versions to recent catwalk shows, and it’s plain to see why the baseball cap will always have a place as a staple menswear accessory.” However, this modern essential’s wide range of variations mean it’s a famously tricky item to style. So, when it comes to picking one out, stick to these tried and tested favourites to guarantee yourself a home run. 6 Key Baseball Cap Styles The Snapback With its flat peak, six-panel construction and structured design, the snapback cap has become uniform for Major League heavy hitters, hip-hop heroes, hairy hipsters and countless others in between. Its name comes from the snap-closure to the back of the hat, but adjustable ‘strapback’ versions are also common. If you were looking for a classic, this is it. The Five Panel With its roots in performance cycling, the five-panel cap became an unlikely skateboarding icon in the 1990s, before finding its spiritual home in the the streetwear world. Favoured for its rounded, low-profile shape, the five-panel was immortalised by skate stalwarts like Supreme and Danish minimalists Norse Projects, both of which made this hat style its headwear calling card, sparking thousands of imitations. The Trucker Okay, we’ll put our hands up. We know the trucker cap isn’t exactly a must-have in the hat world. In fact, thanks to Von Dutch, Ashton Kutcher and, well, truckers, it’s quite the opposite. But there’s still hope. Pick out the right one, team it with the right gear and it might just be possible to make this mesh-panelled pariah palatable once again. The Dad Cap The dad cap is a hat style that has been around for years, but it’s only recently that it got its name. So-called because of its resemblance to the sort of thing your old man would wear (obviously), it’s often characterised by a simple curved-peak design, unstructured body and additional details such as a faded appearance, it’s a simple lid that’s a good place to start for beginners. The Sports Cap The traditional baseball cap may have been brought into this world by sport, but that was over a 100 years ago. These days there’s no shortage of high-tech, lightweight fabrics and cutting-edge manufacturing processes that would make the athletes of yesteryear cry witch and probably have the CEO of Nike burned at the stake or something. Premium Fashion’s role in forcing the baseball cap to grow up can’t be emphasised enough. The introduction of quality materials, textured fabrics and stripped-back, minimalist designs helped to turn headgear from something out of Fred Durst’s walk-in wardrobe to a stylish accessory that could, at a push, even be worn with tailoring. How To Wear A Cap Luxe Minimalism We men owe a lot to those stylish Scandinavians, so what better way to doff a cap to them than by going understated, clean and minimal in the headwear department? And everywhere else, for that matter. Tactile fabrics like suede, wool and corduroy are all great options for affording your headgear a touch of luxury; particularly when paired with classic wardrobe staples such as a lightweight jacket and slim-fit chinos. Summer Ready When it comes to true summer essentials, a baseball cap is up there with warm tins of beer, a sand-filled picnic and sunscreen. But more than just being a way of avoiding forcibly squinting at the sun, the right style can also add some personality to a bog standard shorts and T-shirt look. On warmer days down at the beach or in the beer garden, use your cap to tie your outfit together by picking one in the same colour as another part of your outfit – be it your shirt or your sandals. Just make sure your chosen topper also goes with the other layers in your bag for when day drinking inevitably becomes a night session. Tonal Tailoring If you’d told someone in the nineties that in two decades’ time people would be wearing baseball caps with suits , they’d probably have choked on their 3D Doritos and dropped their Walkman. Yet, here we are. This look is as contemporary as they come, and the perfect way to wear a cap without looking like an angsty teenager. Simply pair a plain, premium-looking cap with an unstructured blazer worn over a T-shirt and finish with and a pair of crisp sneakers. Even someone from the nineties couldn’t say that doesn’t look great. From The Streets The love affair between high fashion and streetwear is still very much in its honeymoon period. However, the look can be more than a little OTT for most people’s tastes. So before you rock up to the pub in a floor-length Vetements anorak and a pair of Ozweegos, consider giving a nod to the scene in a more subtle manner. Opt for a 5-panel or dad cap style, along with a hoodie or logo T-shirt and some cropped trousers or jeans. That way you can embrace the streetwear aesthetic in public, without looking like a try-hard. Transitional Topper The two annual periods of limbo between the scorching heat of one season and the frigid cold of the next can be notoriously difficult to dress for. But ditching the bobble hat or bare head for a baseball cap is a great place to start. Navigate such style seas with a wool/twill cap (depending on season), then throw on your favourite transitional jacket and layer underneath accordingly. Tips For Wearing A Baseball Cap Take the sticker off the brim, for the love of God. You’re not 50 Cent. Make sure it fits snug on your head (big or small). There’s nothing like frantically chasing a windswept cap down the street to ruin your carefree look. On the same note, make sure it’s not cutting off your circulation. A big red line across your forehead isn’t likely to elevate your look either. Wear it backwards seldomly and carefully. Never wear it sideways. Opt for simplicity over showiness wherever possible. A plain cap is classier and will go with more of your wardrobe. If you’re going to wear a cap for the day, make sure hat hair isn’t going to be an issue later on. Source link

[chilimili212]

We independently evaluate all recommended products and services. Any products or services put forward appear in no particular order. if you click on links we provide, we may receive compensation. The baseball cap has long been one of menswear’s most polarising accessories and the focus of a fierce debate: does donning a brimmed, bonce cover elevate your look to the ‘peak’ of all that is stylish and contemporary? Or is it a one-way ticket to the sartorial naughty step? It’s an argument that has split the fashion world down the middle for decades, but as time progresses, a growing number of men are beginning to realise that, like beanies, the real question isn’t if we should wear them, but how to wear them. The History Of The Baseball Cap Unless you’re completely oblivious, it probably won’t come as much of a surprise to learn that the baseball cap was first brought into existence by a baseball team. That team was the Brooklyn Excelsiors and the year was 1860. But it was another half a century before the concept fully took off. After 1900, the baseball cap became an important means by which to identify teams, as well as offering the practical benefit of keeping the sun out of players’ peepers while pitching and hitting their way around the diamond. The explosion of television sports in the 20th century brought the baseball cap into people’s homes and onto their heads. Suddenly, the piqued interest in the peaked accessory saw it become a part of the everyday man’s casual uniform. The idea of only ever wearing one on the field was now – pun fully intended – old hat. “[Today] it plays to the wider trend of sportswear infusing contemporary wardrobes,” says Nick Paulson-Ellis, founder of online sportswear store The Sports Edit. “Combine this with the influence of hip-hop figures like Jay-Z and his much beloved New York Yankees cap, celebrities wearing them incognito, and even Gucci adding upscale versions to recent catwalk shows, and it’s plain to see why the baseball cap will always have a place as a staple menswear accessory.” However, this modern essential’s wide range of variations mean it’s a famously tricky item to style. So, when it comes to picking one out, stick to these tried and tested favourites to guarantee yourself a home run. 6 Key Baseball Cap Styles The Snapback With its flat peak, six-panel construction and structured design, the snapback cap has become uniform for Major League heavy hitters, hip-hop heroes, hairy hipsters and countless others in between. Its name comes from the snap-closure to the back of the hat, but adjustable ‘strapback’ versions are also common. If you were looking for a classic, this is it. The Five Panel With its roots in performance cycling, the five-panel cap became an unlikely skateboarding icon in the 1990s, before finding its spiritual home in the the streetwear world. Favoured for its rounded, low-profile shape, the five-panel was immortalised by skate stalwarts like Supreme and Danish minimalists Norse Projects, both of which made this hat style its headwear calling card, sparking thousands of imitations. The Trucker Okay, we’ll put our hands up. We know the trucker cap isn’t exactly a must-have in the hat world. In fact, thanks to Von Dutch, Ashton Kutcher and, well, truckers, it’s quite the opposite. But there’s still hope. Pick out the right one, team it with the right gear and it might just be possible to make this mesh-panelled pariah palatable once again. The Dad Cap The dad cap is a hat style that has been around for years, but it’s only recently that it got its name. So-called because of its resemblance to the sort of thing your old man would wear (obviously), it’s often characterised by a simple curved-peak design, unstructured body and additional details such as a faded appearance, it’s a simple lid that’s a good place to start for beginners. The Sports Cap The traditional baseball cap may have been brought into this world by sport, but that was over a 100 years ago. These days there’s no shortage of high-tech, lightweight fabrics and cutting-edge manufacturing processes that would make the athletes of yesteryear cry witch and probably have the CEO of Nike burned at the stake or something. Premium Fashion’s role in forcing the baseball cap to grow up can’t be emphasised enough. The introduction of quality materials, textured fabrics and stripped-back, minimalist designs helped to turn headgear from something out of Fred Durst’s walk-in wardrobe to a stylish accessory that could, at a push, even be worn with tailoring. How To Wear A Cap Luxe Minimalism We men owe a lot to those stylish Scandinavians, so what better way to doff a cap to them than by going understated, clean and minimal in the headwear department? And everywhere else, for that matter. Tactile fabrics like suede, wool and corduroy are all great options for affording your headgear a touch of luxury; particularly when paired with classic wardrobe staples such as a lightweight jacket and slim-fit chinos. Summer Ready When it comes to true summer essentials, a baseball cap is up there with warm tins of beer, a sand-filled picnic and sunscreen. But more than just being a way of avoiding forcibly squinting at the sun, the right style can also add some personality to a bog standard shorts and T-shirt look. On warmer days down at the beach or in the beer garden, use your cap to tie your outfit together by picking one in the same colour as another part of your outfit – be it your shirt or your sandals. Just make sure your chosen topper also goes with the other layers in your bag for when day drinking inevitably becomes a night session. Tonal Tailoring If you’d told someone in the nineties that in two decades’ time people would be wearing baseball caps with suits , they’d probably have choked on their 3D Doritos and dropped their Walkman. Yet, here we are. This look is as contemporary as they come, and the perfect way to wear a cap without looking like an angsty teenager. Simply pair a plain, premium-looking cap with an unstructured blazer worn over a T-shirt and finish with and a pair of crisp sneakers. Even someone from the nineties couldn’t say that doesn’t look great. From The Streets The love affair between high fashion and streetwear is still very much in its honeymoon period. However, the look can be more than a little OTT for most people’s tastes. So before you rock up to the pub in a floor-length Vetements anorak and a pair of Ozweegos, consider giving a nod to the scene in a more subtle manner. Opt for a 5-panel or dad cap style, along with a hoodie or logo T-shirt and some cropped trousers or jeans. That way you can embrace the streetwear aesthetic in public, without looking like a try-hard. Transitional Topper The two annual periods of limbo between the scorching heat of one season and the frigid cold of the next can be notoriously difficult to dress for. But ditching the bobble hat or bare head for a baseball cap is a great place to start. Navigate such style seas with a wool/twill cap (depending on season), then throw on your favourite transitional jacket and layer underneath accordingly. Tips For Wearing A Baseball Cap Take the sticker off the brim, for the love of God. You’re not 50 Cent. Make sure it fits snug on your head (big or small). There’s nothing like frantically chasing a windswept cap down the street to ruin your carefree look. On the same note, make sure it’s not cutting off your circulation. A big red line across your forehead isn’t likely to elevate your look either. Wear it backwards seldomly and carefully. Never wear it sideways. Opt for simplicity over showiness wherever possible. A plain cap is classier and will go with more of your wardrobe. If you’re going to wear a cap for the day, make sure hat hair isn’t going to be an issue later on. Source link

[norsecoyote]

Five years after running out of steam halfway through season 3, my wife and I finally picked Fargo back up -- starting over at the beginning -- and we just finished season 5 last night. And god damn, what a fucking season of television that was. Some unsorted thoughts, full of spoilers:

***

God damn but the soundtrack had zero respect for Roy and his militia. Like, for a show that has the running theme of "local connectivity getting steamrolled by modernity and corporations" (to borrow @bambamramfan's phrasing) but carefully avoids taking a firm stance on the moral valence of that -- until now, it had made a point of treating both sides in all iterations of that conflict with equal dignity, and the narrative of S5 treats these men as genuine, serious threats -- the needle drops in the last few episodes overtly mock their self-image as Serious Men.

For instance, the goddamn two-minute long single-take close-up tracking shot of Roy marching to the shed, his anger and steely resolve building into the Manly Determination to Do Whatever it Takes to bring Dot to heel -- it's a great moment! And the music sounds appropriately dramatic and threatening, except for how it's, you know, a cello-forward cover of "Toxic" by Britney Spears. And of course there's the E9 montage of the podunk proud boys rolling in to defend the ranch, armed to the teeth and manning truck-mounted machine guns, set to "YMCA."

And I'm a little torn, because on the one hand these moments are both extremely funny, but on the other hand they undercut the villains in a way that feels like the hand of the author making itself visible. It's not at all of a piece with how the show has handled criminals and villains in the past -- even Gaetano's greatest moments of buffoonery weren't actively mocked by the show itself -- and while I get why they made those choices on the interpretive level I don't really understand them on the meta-interpretive one.

You could argue that the show wants to clearly communicate that, you know, self-righteous wife-beaters deserve less respect than even the most casually murderous profit-motivated criminals, but... why would it want that? Did the writers not trust the audience to get that without such blatant hinting? That would be very out-of-character for this show.

***

Sort of related, thinking about the villains in particular and characters in general: this season, more than any of the other ones, really played with the contrast between apparent competence-vs-gormlessness and actual competence. To crib bambamramfam's analysis again, the show generally sorts characters into quadrants defined by lawful vs. criminal and naive vs. effective, in support of the thesis that Objective Good does not exist, and good in the world can only exist when people who believe it ought to make it so.

Except, now that the show has explored and implicitly codified this dynamic over the course of four seasons, in S5 it blurs the hell out of those lines. Dot is the central and most obvious example, but there are many others:

Roy starts out seeming like a classic Wolf: dangerous, determined and calculating. Sure, he's continually let down by the various Goons he dispatches to do his dirty work, but for the first 2/3 of the season, every time he gets directly involved, he immediately achieves his goals. It had me trying to figure out how much of his far-right, Christian nationalist/SovCit rhetoric was genuine, versus the fiction that would most effectively let him manage his minions. ...and then he shoots Danish, a purely self-destructive action. He gains absolutely no value from the murder -- something he could easily have understood at the time -- and if you had to pick a single moment where his fate is sealed, that would probably be it. It's not just purposeless, it's ineffective, and at that moment you realize that: oh shit, he actually believes all his horseshit. Roy is not a Wolf, he's a Goon who's just been lucky his entire life until now. Note, too, the contrast between Roy's defeat and Malvo's from S1: Malvo, basically the iconic Wolf, is only beaten by a Sheepdog, while Roy is captured by unknown, faceless federal agents as a direct result of another of his own stupid, self-indulgent decisions (disowning Gator before leaving him behind).

Danish, meanwhile, goes the other way: for the first several episodes, he seems like a retread of Sy (S3), an impression strongly supported by his oddball appearance (and, of course, by the casting of Dave Foley). But... he's actually very competent! Despite the impression of gormlessness he projects, he doesn't make a single misstep in his actual actions throughout the season -- except for the same one that the audience has been led to make, of mistaking Roy for a Wolf who can be trusted to act in his own self-interest if nothing else.

Witt spends almost the entire season as an nigh-archetypal Fargo Sheepdog: focused, attentive, clever and strategic. And indeed he is all those things; he seems very much an extension of Gus (S1), picking up at the end of that season after he's found his nerve. We get so many scenes of Witt staring down the villains, refusing to be intimidated and only backing down when it's clear his position is tactically impossible (a characterization that's made particularly rich coming off S4's focus on anti-Black racism). ...but, for all that he seems to embody the best of Fargo lawmen, when it comes down to it, unlike Gus he can't actually pull the trigger. It's a particularly harsh commentary, for this show, on the difference between wanting a better world and being willing to make one.

***

And then of course there's Lorraine. My god, what an incredible character and performance; some of Jennifer Jason Leigh's micro-expressions had me literally clapping in delight. For a character who's introduced as a loathsome stereotype of conservative billionaires (the first two episodes feature both her gun-totin' Christmas card, her blithe dismissal of Scotty's gender presentation, and the giant "No" mural behind her desk (which had me in hysterics the first time it was revealed)), she grew fascinatingly nuanced over the course of the season.

In particular, she is the first character in the series who blurs the Wolf/Sheepdog dichotomy. Specifically, she's a Wolf who uses her awareness of the imaginary nature of Rules not just to enrich herself but, like a Sheepdog, to protect a community. The "community" in this case is partly, you know, her immediate family and friendscolleagues, but also the broader category of "women who are victims of sexism." This latter is crucial, because it makes it clear that she actually has a positive vision of How The World Should Be, and she makes several choices that advance that vision even at some cost to herself. This culminates in her final revenge on Roy, which has her forgiving debt in the name of ensuring his misery.

Her worldview, without question, is fairly twisted and a little self-centered, but it isn't one where The Only Thing That Matters Is Power. She genuinely cares, in her weird way, about women who struggle against patriarch[s/y]; that belief is what leads to her changing her mind about Dot. She also genuinely cares about (some) other people, even though she tries not to show it; her genuine attachment to Danish comes through clearly both when she learns of his death (those micro-expressions!) and in her vengeance.

Anyway, I don't know that I have a clear thesis here, other than holy shit what a character. Very likely my single favorite from all five seasons of the show. Yes, even beating out Mike Milligan.

***

There's a whole lot more still to say about:

the central concept of Debt -- I was so impressed with how coherently the season handled that theme, in both the literal/financial and metaphorical/interpersonal sense, and the way Munch was like a hidden throughline for it.

Masculinity (god, but Wayne is a fascinating character).

The way this season, despite (per wikipedia) being the only one with no connections to any other seasons or the movie, is in much deeper dialogue with all that came before it than any previous one.

How the last two episodes retroactively transform Gator from a walking stereotype of a Goon getting his well-deserved comeuppance into -- and I mean this very literally -- the protagonist of a classical Aristotelian tragedy.

...but that's all gonna have to wait for another post because this one has gotten enormous. Hopefully tomorrow.

[the-damned-and-divine]

Inventory Check (for Ramon)

Tilting his head upward, Ramon reached beneath his collar. From there, he pulled several chains that hung around his neck---coiled around each other, forming a thick braid. At their ends was a mass of pendants, medallions and charms of different styles and origins.

Without even looking, Ramon pinched one particular pendant and held it out for the other to see. From a distance, it looked like a blocky, upside-down letter "T" made of silver. On closer inspection, however, it resembled a small hammer---engraved with the eternity loop and topped with a human head.

"You might wonder why an old Christian would carry a clearly Pagan icon," he began. "Not because I have renounced one faith for another, no, but to remember a dear friend."

"His name was Harald Bear-Kin, a massive Danish viking---ferocious in battle, stronger than ten men, but merry and always an optimist. He was equally capable of tearing a man in half as he was at making the bitterest man smile. I remember his many tales, though I cannot sing them as well as he did."

"Our universe grew ever colder and darker on the day he died. Unable to best him in an honest fight, the Exorcists pursued let him be and pursued the rest of us. One flew at me, swept me off the ground, crashed me into a wall and pinned me there. He grabbed that foul harpy by the wings, flinging her into a flock of observers high above."

"But when his back was turned and his attention on me, four of them swooped down and struck him---spear-heads bursting out from his chest. They raised him up and planted the back-ends into the dirt, leaving him impaled on those four spears as a 'parting gift' as they retreated back to Heaven's safety, cackling all the way."

"I kept those spearheads, you know, and it was good that I did: Lady Carmine's smiths were able to make use of them, forging a blade for me just in time for Adam's failed assault. I doubt that I slew the same four who took Harald, but we culled the Exorcists regardless."

"It would be fitting if those four were sent screaming to another plane. It would be fitting that once they fell into that 'Nether-realm', they met Harald once again---and without me to distract him, that bear of a man would be quaffing ale from their severed horns."

[halfmylife]

I’m Not Going Anywhere

Pairing Sihtric x Reader

Summary Before Sihtric joined Uhtred he fought for the Danes and now you’re his captive

Warnings some slight language

A/N I wanted to do an enemies to lovers type thing and it just felt right with Sihtric

Part 1 || Part 2

You had been pushed and shoved forward so much that you were sure bruises littered your skin. One Dane in particular had been leading your path. He seemed quite content in grabbing you by the arm and yanking which ever way he needed.

“Don’t move.” He barked, pushing you to the floor, not even glancing in your direction as he marched off to go and speak to someone. You frankly didn’t care about what he was doing and was still trying to find a way out of this mess.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You voice was thick with sarcasm as you waved your bound hands in the air. What exactly did he think you were planning? A full coup of the camp before your heroic escape? You were lucky you got this far unharmed, especially considering how outnumbered you were.

Whilst you waited for your captors return, you surveyed the area, taking in every small detail. Though you couldn’t help the looks you received from a few of them men surrounding you.

“Up.” You felt the hand around your bicep, before you even heard him approach. The man barely gave you time to move before he started yanking you upwards.

“You could ask nicely.” You mumbled, not expecting him to hear. Your feet managed to stabilise themselves after the abrupt pull and soon you were walking beside him again.

“That was nicely.” He muttered back. So he had heard. Clearly he wasn’t impressed either.

“Didn’t seem very nice. You should work on your manners.” You were hardly in the position to bark out orders or even argue with him yet still you carried on. It was the only bit of respite you had from the uncomfortable silences and you wanted to make it quite clear you would not be going down without a fight.

“You should learn to stay quiet.” The Dane was growing more agitated with each moment he spent with you and it was becoming increasingly obvious the more you press.

“Not a quality I possess I’m afraid.” You quipped.

“I noticed.” He growled. His grasp around your arm tightened for a small moment and you wondered if perhaps he was at his wits end with you, if he had not been already.

You had been moving for some time, albeit begrudgingly and slowly your mind started to wander. You had heard what Danes enjoyed doing to women when they raided villages and thought you would be no different.

“If you’re dragging me off to hump me just get it over and done with.” You spat out suddenly. The Dane seemed to almost reel back from the comment. He looked you over, expressionless before turning away once more, never breaking a stride.

“I’m not going to hump you.” As soon as he spoke, you didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not.

“What exactly do you want to do with me then?” You tugged against him, hoping to draw his attention back to you. He gave you very little, only tugging you back into pace with him with ease.

“I don’t want to do anything.” He said quietly. For a moment it did not seem like a man who was serving a Dane lord but rather a man who was tired of such things. “Your a daughter of a rich man. He’ll pay us well for your safe return.”

“So you’re going to keep me here whilst you wait for him to pay?” You scoffed. Your father was unlikely to pay, especially if there had been an inclination of foul play. There was no way out of this one it was only a matter of time before the Danes took what they wanted.

“That’s the idea.” Though you couldn’t see it, you were sure he was rolling his eyes. “You should be thankful.” You wanted to laughed.

“Thankful? For being kidnapped and held captive? I don’t think so.” What was there to be thankful for? You had been kidnapped and bound, only to then be paraded through a danish camp for all the men to stare at. Hardly a winning proposition.

“What do you think happened to the other women in your village?” The Dane stopped suddenly, turning to face you. You didn’t want it to be true but now you supposed you could not hide from it. Even as he stared at you, you knew it had not been a lie.

“Did you?” You asked quietly, unsure if you even wanted to know the truth. You hadn’t even realised how close the Dane was until silence wrapped around you. His silence was the only answer you needed. “Why not?”

“I was asked to deal with you.” He sighed, but where disgust had been so finely laced in his voice before now something else had crept in. Relief. Or was it? You could not be sure, why would a Dane be relieved about such a thing?

“That’s bullshit.” The man could no longer look at you as he sat you down. He made sure to deliberately avert his eyes and keep his concentration elsewhere.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” His voice raised slightly. You half laughed as he attempted to change the subject.

“Didn’t I tell you that I struggle with that premise?” You spat back, not caring to struggle against him when he checked the ropes binding your wrists. It’s not like you were going anywhere.

“Whore.” He whispered.

“Twat.” You muttered back.

The silence that fell around you was suffocating as neither of you knew what to do next. You have expected him to storm off and leave you behind but the Dane did no such thing. Instead he moved you over to some furs under what looked like a tent if it could even be called that.

“Get some rest.” He didn’t even wait for a response, leaving you to your own devices whilst he took a seat just beyond the tent. “Don’t try anything.” He called back.

This time you have no smart response or no witty retort. He had given you a place to sleep, not just left you in the mud like you’d half expected. You weren’t about to thank him but at least you would not be cold tonight. As for what would happen tomorrow you could only imagine.

[sailtomarina]

Secret admirer

I may or may not have been sipping on my own coffee with far too much creamer while thinking out this prompt.

As she stood to retrieve her mocha (soy, no whip cream) from the counter, Hermione quirked a brow at the blackberry danish plated next to it.

“I didn’t order this.”

Taylor, the barista, leaned out from behind the espresso machine with a wink and pointed tilt of his head to the side. “You have a secret admirer.” 

Hermione surreptitiously turned in the direction of his nod to identify her benefactor, but the only people seated were a few men her father’s age arguing heatedly, a harried-looking woman staring morosely into her mug, and the platinum-head of her current coworker. 

She must have just missed him.

Hermione gathered her items and went to join Draco at what had not too long ago become “their table” at the Atrium’s coffee cart. After several months of amicable teamwork, coffees delivered to her desk turned into his insistence that she take actual breaks—as if she had all the time in the world for such frivolous, lackadaisical habits.

Annoyingly, these breaks resulted in an almost immediate upturn in her focus and productivity. She refused to correlate the two.

“Oh, good. You never eat enough.”

She scowled at his observation and bit into her danish with more ferocity than required. It was, frustratingly, delicious, and exactly what her stomach apparently wanted because a moan of satisfaction escaped before she could stop it.

“That good?” The prat had the audacity to smirk with his dimples on full display.

“It’s…not bad. Could be laced with poison, though.”

His eyebrows shot up in alarm at her statement, before he took a measured sip of his tea. “Is there any particular reason why you say that?”

“Apparently, I have a secret admirer who added this to my coffee order.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one to notice your appalling lack of awareness for your own wellbeing,” he mused, handing her a napkin as she finished the last bites of her pastry.

“Yes, well, if he keeps treating me to these I might just entertain the idea of a date. Maybe. Probably.” Hermione chased down the sweet blueberry notes with her semi-bitter dark mocha, missing the way Draco sat up taller in his chair. Circe, it’d been far too long since her last good shag.

Finishing up their drinks with some chatter about the upcoming weekend—yes, there was a poetry reading she planned to attend, no, she was not going to the Falcon’s game though she hoped they beat the Canons—they stood to make their way back upstairs. Walking behind her, Draco risked a glance over to Taylor and nodded his gratitude for the young man’s assistance. The next Ministry event was scheduled to take place only a couple of months from now and he fully intended to attend at Granger’s side. Not her on his arm like some adornment, but together as equals. Ideally, partners.

He just hoped the cart had a decent variety of baked goods to rotate until then.