#BLACK JACOBITES

[msclaritea]

I'm done with this and having my account on Twitter targeted. So, from now on, any of these fake, black plants that I find, that I discovered are linked to Israel and India, I will post. I don't have time to spare feelings. These disgusting attacks on Black Americans need to cease.

I knew, judging by the fucked up way that Hollywood was slowly presenting the truth about history by screwing it up, that someone was upset that the truth is coming out. The Internet works both ways, it seems. Some of the 'Blackwashing' in some projects has actually been depicting real history, without acknowledging it; allowing White Nationalists to believe they're being erased, while targeting Black people as trying to 'take white roles' when none of this was ever up to us.

Take Napoleon, for example. It seems that his history was tampered with and he was a Man of color. Is THIS why Oliver Stone tanked his own Napoleon film? The truth is out. 'We can't be seen worshipping Napoleon, anymore.'

Then, there's Shakespeare. The campaign to dismiss his work as his own has been ongoing for a long time, and for a while, it actually worked in re-popularizing his work. It turned into a sick game. First, they convinced the public that he didn't even exist. When that was proven wrong by an American professor, they said he didn't write his plays, even though there is ample proof of his working for years under other playwrights, to learn his craft, as he was tasked with helping to write scenes. Could it be because HE also may be Black? He had more Black characters in his works than just Othello. Now, I hear little swipes and jabs being added, into TV and film projects. One such scene was in an episode of Outlander. (The one between Jamie and Brianna where they take a swipe at Disney. It was very tacky. Outlander has usually been good at not getting political) The Oxford connected Smithsonian, which also hides a lot of history, has been involved in this scheme, too. Below, is both a video, showing evidence of Shakespeare being Black.

I included one that talks about the Black King James, because Shakespeare and his troupe were later known as The King's Men, his own literary Ambassadors, so to speak. It also goes into the Black Jacobites.

Lin Manuel Miranda participated in another scam, making himself famous for playing Hamilton, in the play which garnered millions. What they failed to admit to the audience and fans was that this was not a fantastical version of history but the closest thing to the truth that they could muster. Hamilton was Black, also. He also stuck to the unwritten rules of Hollywood. Anything that includes Black people in a story is not allowed to have a Classical soundtrack. So, Puerto Rican Miranda wrote up some cute little raps for the kids to admire. That's more than an insult. If we were in Europe, we were also involved in the creation of various art forms. It was Black Hebrews who brought the Harp to Europe, in the first place.

So, now, as historians are uncovering more of the truth about Europe, America, and how they were really formed, here comes a bunch of cheap, paid off, shit for brains, black? trolls, trying to manipulate Black Americans by telling them, they're ashamed of coming from African slaves. Like one guy said, that's hardly true, when the majority of us are too busy, living day to day, to even entertain such a useless thought, and obviously, we have managed to overcome such a past.

BUT...for those of us who prefer the truth, it seems there's a group out there, that don't want us looking into our real history.

I'll say this once for Native Americans. If you find Black people searching into their own Native American roots somehow offensive, you're a huge hypocrite. Because you didn't like it much when your own history was being attacked. Leave us alone.

For all of those asshole trolls, both from Israel and Africa, interfering in our personal business, you can go to hell. I know what you're doing.

The truth takes power away from those who sold the Lie.

The truth sets people free from feeling they have to follow a certain path, ie, Back To Africa. That was the point of Garvey and Malcolm X; to sell Africa, and convince more Black Americans to go, when some of them might not have ancestry there; at least, not directly.

The truth makes it so much harder to subjugate a people.

The truth destroys the box that Black Americans were put into, of being cut off from their lineage, and from being expected to behave a certain way... INCLUDING REJECTING AND NOT PARTICIPATING IN MOST OF THE WORLD THAT WE HELPED TO CREATE.

The truth uncovers a myriad of other crimes committed by those who tried to sell the Lie.

The truth also helps to uncover the secret loyalties of persons you would never suspect as helping the Liars.

I don't think there is a single Black person alive that wishes Africa anything but good. In point of fact, I'm having a lot of fun watching the AES grow and kick the spoiled ass of Western countries like France. But that is completely separate from looking into and connecting to my heritage, which includes Europe. But it's also, all very connected. I can now trace my lineage (No Slavery, but some Indentured) back to one of the original High Kings of Ireland. "Úgaine Mór, son of Eochu Buadach, son of Dui Ladrach, was, according to medieval Irish legend and historical tradition, the 66th High King of Ireland."

"He was the foster-son of Cimbáeth and Macha Mong Ruad and he took power by killing his predecessor (and his foster-mother's killer), Rechtaid Rígderg. The Lebor Gabála Érenn says that, as well as Ireland, he ruled "Alba to the Sea of Wight" – i.e. the whole of the island of Britain – and that "some say" he ruled all of Europe.

He married Cessair Chrothach, daughter of the king of the Gauls, who bore him twenty-two sons and three daughters. He is said to have divided Ireland into twenty-five shares, one for each of his children. For example, his son Lóegaire Lorc ruled Life and Cobthach Cóel Breg ruled Bregia. His daughter Muirisc ruled Mag Muirisce, from which Murrisk is said to have taken its name. This partitioning of the island stood for three hundred years, until the establishment of the provinces under Eochu Feidlech.

The reign of Úgaine Mór was thirty or forty years, until he was killed by his brother Bodbchad. According to the Lebor Gabála, he was succeeded directly by his son Lóegaire Lorc, although the Annals of the Four Masters and Geoffrey Keating's Foras Feasa ar Éirinn say Bodbchad was king for a day and a half until Lóegaire killed him. Cobthach Cóel Breg succeeded his brother Loegaire."

These people were all Black. They were Israelites.

I even included my family name in the description above, not that it'll help any of you trolling fuckers. It's my father's name. I go by my mom's. 😁

[hrtgallant]

considering making a most obnoxious crossover

[mycological-mariner]

Siiiiiiigh fine

I’m taking this as my cue to finally start Kidnapped

[trainphilos]

...of Anoraks, Pufferküsser and Tragics!

A short foreword and explanation: My friend Michael in London has been doing a blog since blogs became a thing. He started out to review, comment on and complain about all things Apple. Hence the blog’s URL: www.macfilos.com. However over the years his obsession with photography and cameras, in particular Leica equipment, became the main focus of his blog. The blog name stayed the same, but it is…

[authorrmbrown]

👋

Hi! I'm Rebecca, a 27-year-old fantasy writer from Scotland living the absolute dream because my debut novel came out on 27th June!!

Published by Ringwood Publishing, Song of the Stag is a love letter to Scotland's historic and folkloric past. From ancient kings and black-hearted patriots to bonnie princes and Jacobite songs, this book celebrates a complex, beautiful, and all too often tragic, land.

It also acts as an allegory for Scottish Independence, a subject I've been passionate about since 2014. The story is about the power of autonomy, be that of a person or a nation. Our main character, Cait, is a sheltered girl with an idyllic, conservative, rural upbringing, and her journey to personal freedom mirrors that of her nation.

I'm so excited to be able to share Cait's story with others! The novel can be purchased from Ringwood Publishing, Amazon (incl. Kindle format), or the Waterstones website. (For quickest delivery, order from Ringwood directly).

It's also on GoodReads, so please add to your want to read list, and leave a review if you read it!

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

The Year In Doom & Gloom

Doom & Gloom From The Tomb celebrated its 15th anniversary this year, which is crazy. But what can I say, I keep finding cool live tapes and keep feeling compelled to share them with you ... whoever you are! A lot of this website is just me talking to myself, hashing and rehashing and re-re-hashing various obsessions, getting impossibly niche about some of my favorite artists, trying to shine a light into the darkest corners of music history. But that makes it sound like it's a serious endeavor. Mostly, it's fun. I hope it's fun for you too. So, if you need to catch up, here's a tip-of-the-iceberg rundown of what we checked out over the last 12 months ... as always, thank a taper!

Lou Reed - Sister Ray in the 70s

“Candy Says” - Lou Reed, Kongress Zentrum, Hamburg, Germany, March 29, 1979

Lou Reed - October 1974

Lou Reed - Lady Mitchell Hall, Cambridge, England, October 13, 1972

Lou Reed - City Hall, Sheffield, England, June 1, 1974

Lou Reed - Konserthuset, Stockholm, Sweden, May 14, 1974

Lou Reed - Parc Des Expositions De Colmar, Theatre De Plein Air, Colmar, France, August 12, 2004

The Modern Lovers - Radcliffe College, Cambridge, Massachusetts, October 27, 1972

The Modern Lovers - Sword in the Stone, Boston, Massachusetts, 1972

The Modern Lovers - Boston Center for the Arts, Boston, Massachusetts, February 23, 1974

Foggy Notion - The Bowery Ballroom, New York City, December 13, 2023

The Feelies - Daniel Street, Milford, Connecticut, July 22, 2011

John Sinclair - BAR, New Haven, Connecticut, September 28, 2003

Meg Baird + Chris Forsyth, Cafe Nine, New Haven, Connecticut, October 26, 2022

John Fahey - McCabe’s Guitar Shop, Santa Monica, California, December 1979

The Go-Betweens - The Gatekeeper To Your Soul

Frank Black - Wetlands, New York City, June 13, 1994

Jacobites - Hearts Are Like Flowers

The Replacements - The Ritz, New York City, June 21, 1986

Willie Nelson - El Rey Theatre, Los Angeles, California, December 20, 1997

Neil Young - Razor Love (1984-2020)

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Control The Violent Side

“Peace Of Mind” - Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Community Theater, Berkeley, California, November 2, 1976

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Festival Hall, Osaka, Japan, March 4, 1976

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Copps Coliseum, Hamilton, Ontario, October 31, 1996

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Shoreline Amphitheatre, Mountain View, California, October 1 / October 2, 1994

Fairport Convention - Harlow Town Hall, Essex, England, June 15, 1974

Richard & Linda Thompson - Dublin Stadium, Dublin, Ireland, November 10, 1979

Robyn Hitchcock & Richard Thompson - “First Girl I Loved (Incredible String Band),” The Barbican, London, England, July 19, 2009

Can - Nordseeheilbad, Cuxhaven, Germany, January 7, 1976

Bob Dylan and The Band - “Nobody ‘Cept You” (Outtake)

Bob Dylan & The Band - Chicago Stadium, Chicago, Illinois, Jan. 3, 1974

Patti Smith - Max’s Kansas City, New York City, September 1, 1974

Patti Smith Group / John Cale / Television - The Palladium, New York City, December 31, 1976

Television - Great American Music Hall, San Francisco, California, December 9, 1992

Television - Roseland, New York City, October 2, 2004

Grant Lee Buffalo - Shepherd’s Bush Empire, London, England, October 11, 1994

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers - Vredenburg, Utrecht, The Netherlands, December 4, 1982

Wilco - Orpheum Theatre, Boston, Massachusetts, October 19, 2002

[brian-in-finance]

Inside Unfinished Business • Part 1

🧵Outlander_Starz: Outlander is back and so is "Inside Outlander," your scoop on the behind-the-scenes magic that brings this magical series to life! ✨ Let's dive into the emotional premiere, "Unfinished Business," shall we?"

Returning to Lallybroch and the location of Midhope Castle where Outlander films wasn't just magical for the fans but for the cast as well. Sam Heughan says this was his favourite location from this second half of the season.

Going back to Lallybroch was a really big moment, for Jamie but also for Outlander. It's where we started. I have a lot of memories working there. One of my first days shooting in Season 1 was at Midhope at Lallybroch... so it was quite a special moment.

Actually, I'd never been in the actual castle because it's derelict. We were using the doorway. So, I actually got to go in this time and have a look inside, which was very special. — SAM HEUGHAN, JAMIE FRASER

🧵Outlander_Starz: Showrunner and Executive Producer Matthew B. Roberts said, "Bringing one of our main characters back into the show... Scotland... she's such a beauty.

You miss her when you're not there. I love when we can play Scotland for Scotland at any point. And that iconic driveway going up to Lallybroch, it always makes your heart beat a little faster."

🧵Outlander_Starz: Set Decorator Stuart Bryce, who has been on Outlander since the beginning, was nostalgic at recreating this set across decades: "New touches, like Mike Gunn's murals, were a great addition, but essentially we didn't have to change too much. We kept it as true as we could to the original Lallybroch.

The tapestries in the dining room had been in storage, and there were a few pieces missing, so finding the original plans and having to recreate them was a challenge."

🧵Outlander_Starz: For Production Designer Mike Gunn, now that we're seeing Lallybroch in 1739 as well as the 1770s and 1980s, it was important to instantly recognize Roger was in a different time. He came up with the idea that behind the incredible tapestries from Season 1, there were murals created in the time of Brian Fraser, hidden after Culloden, then discovered by Bree and Roger in the 80s.

Read more about how Mike used these murals to plant Easter Eggs about Jamie and the story of Outlander itself!

I developed this backstory that the murals depicted the Jacobite rising and fight for Scottish independence. By the time the 1770s came and the Jacobites had lost Culloden, that's when the tapestries were hidden... In the 1980s, the tapestries were taken off. That was the starting point.

Then I decided to weave in the story of Outlander...

The unicorn, which I decided to depict in all of the four images, was Jamie. And of course, Claire is going to come into that journey. The central mural above the fireplace with the unicorn and horse, that's the two of them in love. But the unicorn is depicted as having his struggles throughout. He's depicted fighting a mythical beast that you could say is Black Jack. — MIKE GUNN, PRODUCTION DESIGNER

🧵Outlander_Starz: Fans will be delighted to see Jamie and Claire staying in the Laird's bedroom again with the iconic blue wallpaper. Set Decorator Stuart Bryce says of this room: "There is something about that blue that makes people's skin look amazing and enhanced those early romantic scenes of Jamie and Claire.

When we came to put the room back together, though it was exactly the way it should have been, by some mystery, the room was bigger...something spooky happened there!"

Inside Unfinished Business • 1 of 2

Threads 🧵

Remember… you miss her when you're not there. I love when we can play Scotland for Scotland at any point. And that iconic driveway going up to Lallybroch, it always makes your heart beat a little faster. — Matthew B Roberts

[dampfloks]

The Jacobite

45 407 The Lancashire Fusilier LMS Stanier Class 5-4-6-0 ‚Black Five’ Hier auf dem Glenfinnan Viaduct, Inverness-shire (Siorrachd Inbhir Nis), Schottland.\ Der Zug fährt von Ford Williams (An Gearasdan) nach Mallaig und wurde nach den Jakobiten, deren letzter Aufstand gegen die britische Krone 1745 in Glenfinnan seinen Anfang nahm.

The Jacobite

45 407 The Lancashire Fusilier LMS Stanier Class 5-4-6-0 'Black Five' Here on the Glenfinnan Viaduct, Inverness-shire (Siorrachd Inbhir Nis), Scotland The train runs from Ford Williams (An Gearasdan) to Mallaig and was named after the Jacobites, whose last uprising against the British Crown began in Glenfinnan in 1745.

The Jacobite

45 407 Le Fusilier du Lancashire LMS Stanier Class 5-4-6-0 'Black Five' (cinq noirs) lci sur le Glenfinnan Viaduct, Inverness-shire (Siorrachd Inbhir Nis), Écosse Le train circule de Ford Williams (An Gearasdan) à Mallaig et a été baptisé du nom des Jacobites, dont la dernière révolte contre la couronne britannique a débuté à Glenfinnan en 1745.

[thirdtidemouse]

pretend i havent been inactive for 100 years. i've been watching renegade nell and its giving me a new sketchbook au idea/accompanying doodles. essentially: fae highwaywoman johanna is on the run, kaisa is Out To Get Her with dark magic

you have to cut me some slack with how silly i sound. its the hyperfixation. im ill

i'm casting these freaks like actors. Johanna is Nell:

it is 1705, and barkeep Johanna has found herself a highwaywoman on the run for a murder she didn't do, accompanied by her daughters and aided by a little spirit named Alfur. she has found fae-like abilities, and despite her good intentions, she is now feared across half the country as an invincible murderess.

Kaisa is Sofia:

hunting her down is Kaisa, a lady whose family owns Johanna's pub, whose father Johanna is falsely accused of killing, and who is obsessed with catching her. she uses dark magic to fuck with Johanna's life remotely, summoning things to attack her etc - she may be untouchable when it comes to human enemies, but not magic. Kaisa herself is lonely, surprisingly empathetic, and is desperate to prove her worth and have control over her life.

other character notes:

give Johanna a gun

she is a painter and illustrator still. she is struggling to find time for her hobbies

she would rather not be robbing people but has no problem if she needs to. the rich ones have more money than they know what to do with anyway, and if she has to take a horse from some poor guy, she leaves him with stolen valuables in exchange. she's a little robinhood about it.

i think it would be so fun to keep the mythical creatures around. watch out for Devilwoman Johanna who is strong enough to kill a troll!! (she would never)

yes Lauren (belonging to @blaithnne) is included. Nell is accompanied by her two little sisters, brave & helpful older sister Roxy, and funny & inquisitive little sister George. Lauren & Hilda take their place, and maybe Frida and David tag along hehe.

Lauren & Hilda keep getting taken hostage in attempts to get Jo to turn herself in, but they always get out of it. until they do, Hilda probably talks their ears off about dragons and Lauren makes terrifying threats.

no one else REALLY specifically fits character slots like Amadin, Thomas, and Charles (there aren't a lot of men in hilda lol) so i'm going to wing it and the other characters can fill their roles when needed maybe

Thomas is Sofia's brother who killed both their father and Nell's father, and is generally reckless, careless, and easily badly influenced. i'm actually thinking of putting 18yo Dylan (oc of mine who is Kaisa's younger sister) in his place. she is a lot sweeter in regular hilda universe but i think the plot & i could fuck with her character enough that she gains these insecure, irresponsibly cruel tendencies. sorry Dylan

both Johanna and Kaisa were witnesses when her father died. Kaisa knows she's innocent, but goes along with the accusation to save Dylan from being arrested and keep the family (and their place in society) from falling apart. I'm thinking of making Dylan a boy in this, to keep the dynamic of the land going to him when papa dies > he would be a terrible landlord > Kaisa gets to take the reigns and keep everything in working order because she actually cares and enjoys having things to watch over and work on

in general Kaisa is very lonely, has to work twice as hard for the power and respect men are given automatically, and yearns for the kind of freedom and support that Johanna has despite being an outlaw from a poor family.

i think David and Frida could fill Amadin's role as friends they pick up along the way. David's loyalty and voice of reason, and Frida's fierce protectiveness and determination to prove herself both remind me of his character.

i'm inclined to draw a blank for Poynton, the main villain, a Jacobite amongst the royal guard, the siblings' traitorous mentor in black magic, and the indirect reason their dad died in the first place. Tildy is Kaisa's mentor, but not an evil one. the closest Hilda has to real villains is Erik, and the head witches maybe, but none of them really hit the nail on the head for this guy. an au oc may be in order!!!

the Bellkeeper can be Charles maybe lol. he is an established highwayman leading a double life as both a wanted criminal and a aristocrat. he is suave, a little campy, and a firm believer that with confidence, you can sweet-talk anyone into believing you are anyone. he annoys Johanna into letting him tag along and help with disguises and plans just because he finds it fun.

Lady Eularia Moggerhanger runs the newspapers, and i'm splitting that between two characters for a couple reasons. Erik is the owner of the presses (not putting him in the royal guard because it wouldn't make sense for him to be a Jacobite rebel) who generally enjoys fearmongering and controlling the public.

Victoria is the head editor with a taste for dramatics but seeks the truth above all else, and happens to be the Bellkeeper's 'friend in high places' who begrudgingly bails him out of trouble.

Gerda replaces Polly, a good-hearted writer and believer of justice who falls head over heels for Jo when she gets highway-robbed by her and mistakes her for a man. is later appointed assistant editor of the newspaper.

this happens i guess

this isn't meant to stick to the plot of renegade nell, there's a lot going on and it would be easier (and more interesting) to figure out an original plot with this different cast of characters. i just thought it would be fun to put sketchbook into an 18th century highwayman period fantasy drama with dark magic and pixies. and enemies to lovers. okay thanks

i might add onto this at some point if anyone has any questions or additions LET ME KNOW!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU

[daenystheedreamer]

what exactly is the illyrio and varys backfire/conspiracy fandom theory again? i feel like im not deep enough into the lore to understand the implications

ok. so. VERY basic explanation is 'young griff', the kid who joncon is running around with and claiming is rhaegar's son aegon, is maybe actually a descendant of the blackfyre cadet branch of house targaryen. has implications for his legitimacy and what legitimacy even means and more broader world building.

alt shift x video on the topic that also dives into the varys and illyrio connections

@wafflehousegothic's post on the subject which features they Lysene connection

and our google doc blackfyre conspiracy for dummies

why is it important. it would be cool. also has implications for varys' character and loyalties, gives daenerys more philosophical battles, and just adds cool world building. it's also just more historical flavour about pretenders, like the Jacobites or Perkin Warbeck (gets a direct reference in the Dance but clearly an inspiration for Young Griff, having been a supposedly murdered young son)

"When the smith's son was an old man, a bastard son of the fourth Aegon rose up in rebellion against his trueborn brother and took for his sigil a black dragon. These lands belonged to Lord Darry then, and his lordship was fiercely loyal to the king. The sight of the black iron dragon made him wroth, so he cut down the post, hacked the sign into pieces, and cast them into the river. One of the dragon's heads washed up on the Quiet Isle many years later, though by that time it was red with rust."

[scotianostra]

On December 22nd 1930 the author and poet Neil Munro died in Helensburgh.

Neil Munro was born the illegitimate son of a kitchen maid on June 3, 1863, in Inveraray in Argyll and Bute. There is a commemorative plaque marking his birthplace near Inveraray’s historic jail, a suitable connection as his mother Ann married the jail’s governor when Munro was a boy.

He was raised by his mother and his grandmother, both of whom were native Gaelic speakers who taught him the language, though he was schooled in English at the local parish school. His father was rumoured to have been a member of the household of the Duke of Argyll at Inveraray Castle, and perhaps through that connection Munro was found a good job on leaving school in the local Sheriff Clerk’s office.

His training as a clerk included shorthand, and at the age of 18 he left Inveraray for Glasgow to try for a career in journalism, starting in Greenock and then the Falkirk Herald before “graduating” to the Glasgow Evening News. He turned out to be a natural reporter and commentator – Victorian era journalists often had to be both, and Munro was such a skilled practitioner that he rose to become chief reporter of the News on a salary of £100 per year at the age of just 25. At the same time he married his landlady’s daughter, Jessie Adam – they would have two sons and four daughters.

Despite his journalistic success, Munro hankered after more serious writing and his memories of Argyll and the stories told to him by his mother and grandmother influenced his first attempts at fiction, published in 1896 in a collection of short stories called The Lost Pibroch.

One of the best stories in it was Castle Dark: “Once upon a time Castle Dark was a place of gentility and stirring days. You have heard it, you know it; now it is like a deer’s skull in Wood Mamore, empty, eyeless, sounding to the whistling wind, but blackened instead of bleached in the threshing rains. When the day shines and the sun coaxes the drowsy mists from the levels by the river, that noble house that was brisks up and grey-whitens, minding maybe of merry times; the softest smirr of rain– and the scowl comes to corbie-stone and gable; black, black grow the stones of old ancient Castle Dark.”

Munro then took to novels and wrote two successful ones in quick succession – John Splendid and Castle Doom, the first about the Marquis of Montrose’s campaign for King Charles I, and the second set against the background of the ‘45 Jacobite Uprising

Having become assistant editor of the News, Munro retired from full-time journalism around 1902 to pen more novels, of which the best is The New Road, published in 1914, about the effects of military roads on the Highlands.

He retained his connections to the News by writing a weekly column under the pen-name of Hugh Foulis. They were really short stories featuring memorable characters such his “droll friend” Archie, the commercial traveller Jimmy Swan and the best-loved of them all – Para Handy, skipper of the Vital Spark.

The boat was a puffer, a small steam-driven merchant vessel carrying varied cargoes on the Firth of Clyde and up and down the West Coast. Para Handy and his crew became fixtures in Munro’s columns and indeed in his readers’ lives. The television versions of the Para Handy tales err on the side of humour and sentimentality, but Munro’s original writings are slightly darker and edgier, though nevertheless hugely entertaining.

At the outbreak of the First World War, Munro returned to journalism and eventually became editor of the Glasgow Evening News. During the war he suffered the loss of his elder son Hugh who was killed in France – Munro’s health was never the same after that tragedy, and his output of non-journalism works diminished.

Munro received honorary doctorates from Glasgow and Edinburgh Universities but for him his greatest honour was to be given the Freedom of Iveraray. He said at the presentation ceremony: “The things we love intently are the things worth writing about. I never could keep Inveraray out of any story of mine, and never will.”

Retiring to his house Cromalt at Craigendoran near Helensburgh, Neil Munro died there on December 22, 1930, 91 years ago today. He is buried in Kilmalieu Cemetery, Inveraray.

I like this poem by Neil Munro and dedicate it to all Scottish exiles, be it physical, or in your hearts.

To Exiles.

Are you not weary in your distant places,

Far, far from Scotland of the mist and storm,

In drowsy airs, the sun-smite on your faces,

The days so long and warm?

When all around you lie the strange fields sleeping,

The dreary woods where no fond memories roam,

Do not your sad hearts over seas come leaping

To the highlands and the lowlands of your Home?

Wild cries the Winter, loud through all our valleys:

The midnights roar, the grey noons echo back;

Round steep storm-bitten coasts the eager galleys

Beat for kind harbours from horizons black;

We tread the miry roads, the rain-drenched heather,

We are the men, we battle, we endure!

God’s pity for you people in your weather

Of swooning winds, calm seas, and skies demure!

Wild cries the Winter, and we walk song-haunted

Over the moors and by the thundering falls,

Or where the dirge of a brave past is chaunted

In dolorous dusks by immemorial walls.

Though rains may thrash on us, the great mists blind us,

And lightning rend the pine-tree on the hill,

Yet we are strong, yet shall the morning find us

Children of tempest all unshaken still.

We wander where the little grey towns cluster

Deep in the hills, or selvedging the sea,

By farm-lands lone, by woods where wildfowl muster

To shelter from the day’s inclemency;

And night will come, and then far through the darkling,

A light will shine out in the sounding glen,

And it will mind us of some fond eye’s sparkling,

And we’ll be happy then.

Let torrents pour then, let the great winds rally,

Snow-silence fall, or lightning blast the pine;

That light of Home shines warmly in the valley,

And, exiled son of Scotland, it is thine.

Far have you wandered over seas of longing,

And now you drowse, and now you well may weep,

When all the recollections come a-thronging

Of this rude country where your fathers sleep.

They sleep, but still the hearth is warmly glowing,

While the wild Winter blusters round their land:

That light of Home, the wind so bitter blowing —

Do they not haunt your dreams on alien strand?

Love, strength, and tempest–oh, come back and share them!

Here’s the old cottage, here the open door;

Fond are our hearts although we do not bare them,–

They’re yours, and you are ours for ever-more.

[herbs-and-poultices]

It was fun last year, as far as I know no-one has tried to have me burned for heresy, I could use a fun diversion right about now, and I haven't yet run out of ballads. So here is this year's:

Vaguely Whumptober-Themed Anthology of Folk Songs from the British Isles / Transatlantic Tradition: Part 1

(What’s a random American gal with no English/Scottish/Irish heritage doing listening mostly to songs like these? Blame my parents for raising me on murder ballads and ceilidh tunes.)

1) If only we could hold on: White Squall (X)

A Folk Revival (20th c) composition from closer to home.

I clung there to the stanchions and I felt my face go pale As he crawled hand over hand along the rail I could feel her keeling over with the fury of the blow I watched the rail go under then, so terrible and slow Then like some great dog she shook herself and roared upright again Far overside, I heard him call my name

2) You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back: Dowie Dens of Yarrow (X X)

An old traditional ballad.

A humble ploughman braves mortal combat with nine high-born rivals for the hand of the lady he loves. He wins, only for her brother to stab him in the back. Literally

3) Wrongfully Arrested: Long Black Veil (X) / Over the Hills (X)

An American country ballad and a Celtic rock/metal ballad (covered on hurdy-gurdy!!) which share enough similarities to have come from the same centuries-old traditional ballad. They are both actually original compositions, but the genres owe much to the old tradition.

Ten years ago, on a cold, dark night Someone was killed 'neath the town hall light There were few at the scene, but they all agreed That the slayer who ran looked a lot like me

4) Hallucinations (visions): MacCrimmon's Lament (X)

A haunting tune from the 1745 Jacobite Rising. Stretching the prompt a bit, but for a good cause ;)

A lament for the death of the piper Donald Bán MacCrimmon, sole casualty of the Rout of Moy. It is said that the tune was composed by Donald Bán himself following a premonition of his own death. Lyrics were written later, in Gaelic, Scots, and English.

5) Healing Salve: Witch of the West-Mer-Land (X X)

A Folk Revival (20th c) composition with much the feel of an old trad ballad.

A mortally wounded knight seeks the aid of an enchantress, who tends his wounds with a combination of herbs and magic, saving his life.

6) It's not (my) blood: The Douglas Tragedy (X)

An old traditional ballad.

He lichted doon tae tak’ a drink o’ the water that ran sae clear An’ doon the stream ran his hairt’s blood, and sair she began tae fear 'Rise up, rise up, Lord William,' she said, 'for I fear ye are slain' '’Tis naethin’ but the shadow of my scarlet coat that shines in the water sae plain'

This is the type of family strife / star-crossed lovers ballad that ends badly for all involved. And I do mean all.

7) It's us or them: Henry Martin (X)

An old traditional ballad.

A desperate young man's first attempt at piracy does not go as hoped, when his quarry refuses to surrender. After hours of fighting, he ultimately sinks his would-be prize outright -- perhaps as the only way to save his own ship and crew.

8) Forced to Stay Awake: Captain Coulston (X)

A broadside (19th c) emigrant ballad.

He said my boys do not go down, you need not think on sleep For in a few hours more we shall be slumbering in the deep For a pirate ship is coming down upon the western sea To rob us of our property going to Amerikay

9) Obsession | Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble: Lily of the West (X X)

A broadside (19th c) murder ballad with versions on both sides of the Atlantic.

An unreasonably jealous young man with a deadly weapon and a remarkable inability to take responsibility for his own actions. What could possibly go wrong.

10) Blow to the head: Follow Me Up To Carlow (X)

An Irish rebel song. I would be remiss if I didn't include at least one.

White is sick and Grey has fled, now for black Fitz William's head We'll send it over dripping red to Lizzy and her ladies

11) Loneliness | No trace: Lament of the Fisherman's Wife (X)

A Folk Revival (20th c) composition, but a tale as old as time.

Now she has come down to condemn that wild ocean For the murderous loss of her man His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning And it's feared she's gone down with all hands

12) Starvation: The New York Trader (X)

A broadside (19th c) - or possibly older traditional - emigrant ballad.

Our cruel captain as we did find Left half of our provisions behind Our cruel captain, you'll understand Meant to starve us all before we reached the land

13) Multiple whumpees | "Death will do us part": Lord Thomas and Fair Elender (X X)

An old traditional ballad found on both sides of the Atlantic.

At his parents' urging, a young man marries for wealth rather than love. (Or the conventional racist beauty standards of the time -- elements of this tale are very dated.) The wedding ends in a murder and a murder-suicide.

14) Hunting Gear: Van Dieman's Land (X)

A transportation ballad. Gotta have one of those too.

Come all you gallant poachers that ramble void of care That walk out on a moonlight night with your dog, your gun and snare The harmless hare and pheasant you have at your command Not thinking of your last career out on Van Diemen’s Land

15) Painful Hug: Young Hunting (X) / Love Henry (X)

An old traditional ballad with versions on both sides of the Atlantic.

Another jealous murder, with a twist.

He bent down o’er his saddle bow To kiss her ruby cheek, But she took out a little pen-knife And wounded him full deep

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

If the Greens had fled to Esso, would they have been safe? Black Stans have always said something along the lines of the Greens could have fled to Esso and didn't need to start a war. 

This is such an interesting question. I think it depends what the goal of fleeing to Essos is. Would they be safe to just settle down and chill in Essos forever? Unlikely. They're a large family at this point between the four green children, as well as Aegon's three children by Helaena, and all of them have dragons (well, Maelor has an egg). That's seven potential dragons. There's not really any foreign power that's going to be comfortable with a family with seven dragons settling down permanently-- remember why the Free Cities have that name in the first place. The legacy of the Valyrian empire will be fresh in people's minds. Also, think about how in the main series Dany and Viserys, two children with no dragons at the time, still had to dodge assassination attempts from Robert Baratheon's court. Rhaenyra's dynasty could not rest easy with her dragonriding brothers and their children still at large, and so just letting them live out their lives in exile is not really a viable option.

Now, could the greens effectively do a tactical retreat, set up a court in exile and plan to re-take the iron throne when the time is right, Jacobite style? Absolutely. In fact, while it's risky, I think this would not be a bad move at all if they played it smart (or smarter than the Jacobites anyway). Winter is on its way at this point and it's going to be a long one, Rhaenyra is going to be under extra scrutiny as a queen regnant, and she won't be able to hide her elder three sons away anymore so there are bound to be whispers about that, she's known to have pretty extravagant tastes, she's got a ruthless streak, and her supporters are gigantic opportunists, so it's not really a huge gamble, even without foreknowledge of the books, to think that she might not have the easiest time holding the realm together. They can also play the long game, and wait for Jace to inherit and put Jaehaerys forward against him. So if the greens flee to Essos, find a foreign power willing to support their cause in exchange for favors and marriages (much as the Rogare family did or planned to do with Viserys II), then they could have a decent shot at swooping in when the time is right.

(I actually have a WIP about this very premise so if that sounds interesting, keep an eye out).

[firegoddess96]

Bean duine briste

(Wife of a Broken Man)

Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser x Female OC

*I own only the OC, all other characters belong to the creators of Outlander*

Summery:

Having served with Claire as a nurse in WWII, Isla went with Claire and Frank to Scotland to see her mother’s home country. Her aunt Mrs.Baird told her stories of the stones and both Isla and Claire went to see for themselves the magic of the place. Neither expected to be transported 200 years into the past, nor did they expect to fall for rough and ruggedly handsome highlanders.

Will the women get back to their time and the loved ones they left behind, or will they fall too deeply into the strong arms of our favorite Fraser men?

18+ to Read!! (There will be smut down the road!)

Chapter 1:

One the road Claire and Isla traveled from village to village with the rent party. Slowly it dawned on the women that the men they were accompanying were more than just rent collectors, they were in fact Jacobites, supporters of the Stuart prince across the sea.

Night after night Dougal made a show of ripping off Jamie’s shirt to use his scars for their cause, horrifying Isla more that Claire, as she had never seen these scars and wasn’t told the story of his whipping. That first night when Dougal threw the shirt at Claire to mend and she fought him, Isla grabbed it and mended it instead without saying a word. Murtagh was grateful for her kindness and often started to show her small acts of kindness as thanks, after all, Jamie was the man’s heart and soul. So any act towards Jamie affected him greatly.

Every night throughout their journey Isla would mend the torn shirt and find small gifts the next morning. One day it was a few ripe apples and pears, another morning she found a bushel of heather flowers next to her pillow. It wasn’t until one morning, when she woke up to the smell of roasting meat, that she realized who was leaving these sweet gifts. Murtagh finished roasting the freshly caught duck and plated the bird just for her, finally thanking her verbally for the kindness and compassion she was showing his godson. He told her about the incident back at Lallybroch, the attack on young Jenny, the whipping, and the consequent death of Jamie’s father at the sight of it. Isla understood a little more of the stoic and quiet man after he shared the story, she realized the man held a strong love and loyalty to the young man who he followed everywhere.

They all continued their travels for a few more weeks, Claire tending to minor wounds with Isla’s help. Isla continued to mend the shirt when it was torn, and Murtagh spent more time with Isla, sharing meals and stories, until the day the English officer showed up at one of the villages. Claire had gotten drunk with some of the local wives and had made a scene trying to steal a goat back from the rents to help a mother feed her baby. And that was how Dougal arrived with Claire and Isla in the company of British officers telling stories of how they came to Scotland, planning their journey home. A plan cut short by the appearance of Black Jack himself.

Once again attacked by the vicious man, Claire being almost assaulted again, and Isla bruised and concussed. Dougal stormed in and took them away, stopping at a stream to make the women drink from a foul smelling river. Isla recognized it as the truth river, lies were said to burn the throat once one drinks from the stream. They both drank and both told him that they were not spies and simply came here by accident. Dougal, finally believing them, told them the only solution he could think of for their current predicament, for the two woman to marry Scotsmen and become Scottish citizens.

Back at the camp the other men are made aware of what happened….

“So, I have made up my mind about Mrs, Beauchamp, Jamie you will marry the lass. She’s a good woman, smart and Bonnie. And I ken ye are fond of the lass.” Dougal told Jamie, causing a blush to form on his face and the teasing laughs from the other men as they had all seen his interest in her.

“As for Ms Burns…” Dougal starts “I’ll marry the lass” Murtagh interrupts, staring expressionless at the chieftain.

“Will ye now? Well, I guess that will do fine, if the lass will have ye.” Surprised that the stoic man would take an interest in marrying a woman, after all, he had see murtagh fawn over his sister Ellen for years. It was hard to imagine another capturing his heart in the same way.

Across the field Claire and Isla sat discussing the new turn their lives were about to take.

“I feel like I am betraying Frank.” Isla’s heart broke for Claire, she had after all met frank and knew of the love they had shared. But it was looking more and more like they would never make it home to their own time. Isla knew that living in the past meant that they needed protection, and the only way to get that now was a husband. Isla had also seen the glances shared by Claire and her soon to be husband, knew that they could grow to love one another and be happy, which is all she wanted for her friend.

“Claire, Jamie is a kind and caring man, he would never hurt you and he’d continue to protect you. I know you love Frank, and he loves you, which is why he would understand. Frank researched this time, it was his specialty, and he would understand that the only way for you to stay alive and safe is to marry someone else. The man would move heaven and earth to keep you safe, he would want this for you.”

“What about you? You never mentioned anyone, is there someone you had back home? A man waiting for you?”

“God no! I’ve actually never been in a serious relationship, I’ve had the odd date here and there, but it never really went anywhere. None of them struck that spark, you know?”

“I do. Do you know who Dougal picked for you by chance? I didn’t hear him say.”

“No, he didn’t. At least you already know who you’re husband is going to be. And you know what to expect, I’ve never been with a man intimately, and now I don’t even know who I will be expected to sleep with.” A blush rose in her cheeks at the thought of a certain rugged highlander in her bed.

A silence lulled between the women, which shortly after was interrupted by Jamie and Murtagh walking towards them across the field.

“May I have a word lass?” Murtagh’s asked Isla causing her blush to deepen.

“Of course, I’ll talk to you later Claire.” She followed Murtagh into the near by woods, heart racing trying to keep her emotions and hopes in check.

“What is it Murtagh? Is something wrong? Did Jamie not agree to marry…”

“No lass, it’s not about that. Jamie will marry Claire, he agrees tis a good match. And he is ver’a fond of the lass.” He cleared his throat and stared fidgeting with his hands nervously.

“What’s wrong Murtagh?”

“It’s actually yer predicament which I wished to discuss Ms Burns.” Her brows creased questioningly at the sudden formality. “I wish to offer my hand as the solution to your problem. If ye would have me, I’d me honored to have ye as my bride.” A blush rose on his face so deep it was vibrant through his dark beard.

“Why are you offering Murtagh? Not that It is an unwelcome offer, quite the opposite actually.” His eyes widen in shock, believing that she would reject his offer, “But I will not say yes if you are doing this purely for kindness, like all the gifts you have given me.” Isla felt like she had just put her foot in her mouth and ruined her chance of getting the man she wanted, but she needed to know that he was choosing her for the right reasons.

“Isla, lass, have ye not realized? I have wanted ye since the night I first saw ye. “He grabs her chin and makes her look him in the eye. “Bonnie thing, with curves in all the right places, with that giant backside pressed right against me rocking the whole ride home” he growls stirring something in her. “Mind ye, it’s not just yer body I want, no lass, ye have made me want yer heart as ye have clearly stolen away wi’ mine. Yer kindness, to even the most cruel and distant of strangers. That someone would heal her captures and help a man w’out asking of his past.” His rough hand caresses her cheek as her eyes stared at him, with pure love and adoration, tear up at his sudden declarations.

“Isla, If ye will have me, I will protect ye and love ye, as I ne’er thought I’d love again. If ye say yes, ye will have all o’ me. What do ye say lass?” His eyes travel from her eyes to her lips, waiting for her answer. She leans in to him, like magnets they come together, their lips barely touching.

“Yes” he crushes her body to him as he passionately kisses her. She responds in kind one hand on his neck, the other combing up into his hair pulling him closer still. His hands wander along her curves, on her lower back in an attempt to bring her closer yet, while his other hand traveled further south over her hip and cupping her buttock firmly, causing a yelp which he happily devoured from her lips.

Reluctantly he pulled himself away, laughing at her lips chasing his. A blush deepening to a vibrant rose on her cheeks and a glazed look in her eyes.

“Dinna fash lass, ye will get more soon. But ye will be mine when ye do, and ye will no’ be leaving my side once ye are.” Murtagh whispers in her ear making her shiver and clench her thighs. Her response didn’t escape his notice, and his eyes darkened with lust at just how responsive his little bunny really was.

“Let’s get back to everyone and plan the joint ceremony, shall we lass?” Isla nodded and followed Murtagh back towards the clearing when they planned a joint ceremony with Jamie, Claire hiding somewhere until she had to be married the next day.

See you at the wedding….

[myemuisemo]

The further we get into The Hound of the Baskervilles in Letters from Watson -- now being up to chapter 3 -- the more I envision James Mortimer being played by Timothy Hutton. This is not good news, since it's Timothy Hutton as Nate Ford in Leverage. Is Mortimer trying to con Sherlock Holmes?

Mortimer keeps talking up Baskerville Hall as deadly, when we know of only two Baskervilles who've died there. The Hugo who wrote the manuscript got the story passed down from his grandfather. Neither they nor he died of the hound (3 generations). If we assume an average of 35 years per generation from 1742 to the narrative in 1889, another 3-4 heirs did not die by hound.

Mortimer is overselling that hound. “The original hound was material enough to tug a man's throat out, and yet he was diabolical as well.” How do we know this? Did he have tags on his collar giving Satan's address?

Mortimer delayed long enough that the only hard evidence is what he recounts.

So now we have two more Baskerville heirs:

Rodger, the black sheep, supposedly died in South America, where he was likely attracted by the prospect of getting rich mining silver.

Henry, the heir, has been farming in Canada.

Henry likely took up a homestead in western Canada under the Dominion Lands Act, passed in 1872. The government of Canada solicited mass immigration to Manitoba and the Northwest Territories (then including Albert and Saskatchewan) by offering, for only a small registration fee, 160 acres to anyone who would improve it. Unlike the U.S. Homestead Act, a settler who succeeded with one plot could register for a second one.

Land for settlement had been ceded by the First Nations peoples under the earliest of the Numbered Treaties, which sounds tidy and respectful until we reflect that the treaties were the culmination of long years of wiping out the indigenous population with famine and disease. A weakened population ceded valuable territory in return for assistance and then the terms of the treaties were not honored in full.

This leaves Henry as the least directly blood-stained -- and probably most hard-working -- of the globe-trotting Baskervilles. Colonialism has this enormous ill effect: behavior that, in close-up, would seem entirely virtuous (hard work! initiative! willingness to take risks!) is built on the suffering of the indigenous peoples. (Yes, I think about this as an American, also how the California history I was taught as a tot did its best to erase our local native peoples. I can both enjoy the courage of my immigrant ancestors, most of whom were themselves oppressed minorities in Europe or the Middle East, and critique policies.)

In that vein, I found this meme on Threads the other night.

Even that ordnance map that Holmes uses -- which is darn cool -- has its roots in power relations. The first big mapping project in the UK, dating from the mid-18th century -- was to develop accurate maps of Scotland in order to mop up the remains of the Jacobite rebellions and suppress further dissent.

That said, ordnance maps offer an amazing level of detail. The National Library of Scotland offers access to ordnance maps of the era that Holmes would have been using here. It's the kind of mapping that shows the location of every building and all sorts of tiny lanes.

Now I want to go play with maps, if only to distract myself from wondering how much the smoky atmosphere of Holmes' flat is damaging his Stradivarius.

[rayneeeeeeeeeee]

"STAND AND DELIVER!"

A fanfiction about Sofia Wilmot and Nell Jackson. I've been cooking up this baby instead of doing my revision, so pls like it <3

It's on wattpad ( pls don't judge. it's the only thing i can write on rn)

TW: Implied attempt at SA

___________________________________________

Lady Sofia Wilmot had just come from putting away her brother to the prisons. With the bribe that he ought not to be hanged (although rightfully deserved) for his actions. Murdering Sam trotter, their father, and conspiring with a Jacobite.

Although Sofia knew she was held partially accountable, she could not stand to see her brother in the same light. She'd turned to darkness all because of his foolish actions. His actions had forced her to hurt the innocent. And lose her father in the process. Of course, the late Earl of Poynton had been killed because of his attempt at eternal darkness. Bringing forth the night but not succeeding with the help of a certain rogue.

Sofia twirled at the dark raven locks of her hair. She'd been dressed in her widowed clothing. All black and her face covered with a veil. She'd been married off to some rich magistrate who'd died soon after their wedding.

Sofia had been relieved of her matrimonial responsibilities as a wife and continued to live within the walls of her fathers estate.

Well, at least until Thomas stuffed it up in her polite words.

But now she was well and truly alone. No father. No mother. No brother. Not even friends. She had nobody to turn to in her moment of sorrow. And she knew it.

Surprisingly, no new magistrates came to take Lord Blanchefords place after his death and Thomas's arrest. Most likely, due to a hefty bribe from Sofia. She had become the new magistrate. probably the first woman to have ever taken over an estate in the 1700s. She'd become rich. And had lowered her tenants' rent, much to all of their surprises. Because what could Lady Wilmot do? She couldn't change her circumstances by being cruel to those below her. All she could do was sit in her late fathers office and do his work.

Sofia sat in the carriage. Daydreaming about what could've happened if she hadn't trusted Poynton. Or if she'd never framed Nell Jackson with the murder of her father. Of course, she was too prideful to admit her guilt for the Renegade. But her guilt still had remained true.

Her association with the dark arts had ruined her. Permanent scars of the blackness that had corrupted her lined her spine and chest. Although its growth had ceased, it was a constant reminder of her faults. And those marks would be hard to forget.

It was the reason she was constantly wrapped in the finest silks no matter the weather. But this night, it would be the cause of her greatest misfortunes.

"STAND AND DELIVER!"

A voice from outside the carriage bellowed. It had reminded her of the Rogue she'd formed an alliance with.  Except now, they had the full intent to rob her and strip her of her garments. Just as these horrible men would do. Sofia had not been fearing for her wealth and possessions. She was in fear of what they would do to her. Her ears seemed to ring, and all sound had blurred into an unintelligible fuzz in her ears. These masked bandits upon horses had pistols and knives. It was one to four, and Sofia couldn't do anything. She pleaded they did not do anything to her. She threatened with her position and wealth. She offered properties. But nothing seemed to convince them.

"Please, I'll offer anything! Just please don't do anything to me!"

She begged.

"Lookie here, John, the pretty little thing going to offer us goons a hefty cash prize!"

One of the ruffians taunted.

"I don't know, Mointon. i think I've got a better idea..."

The goon pointed the pistol at her throat and lifted her chin with it.

"Take off yer garments luv, I'd like to see the pretty little figure underneath."

His words struck deep within Sofia, and his actions had led her to fear once more. When she refused, he'd grabbed her and held the gun to her head. Sofia yelped and tried to wriggle free from his grasp.

"What in the bloody hell do you think you're doin lad?!"

A familiar voice cut through the ordeal. Sofia was distraught, although she'd never admit it. as the gun was still pointed towards her.

"Don't think this un'll save ya, ya prissy bitch"

The so called Mointon gritted through his teeth.

"Yeh, you think you can just force a woman to do ya biddin? , i don't think so. You prick, let the dame go."

Sofia recognised the voice as Nell Jackson. The woman who'd sacrificed her power for her brother just a few months ago.

"I'd like to see you try and take her off us. Nelly. Jackson."

The ringleader of the lot boasted.

All it took was a moment of preparation before she'd put them all on their arses. One ended up in a tree, and the others scattered in the bushes and shrubs.

"Thank you..."

Sofia whispered to Nell

"Was that a thank you from the Lady Wilmot?"

Nell teased sarcastically before she turned her heel and started walking away.

It was clear that Nell has still been bitter about the shared ordeal between them. And rightfully so.

Nell had started walking towards her horse. The Talbot was close by, and Nell had just happened to be going on a late night ride.

"Wait!" Sofia panted. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in the woods. And this Rogue was the only one around. To help her.

"What do you want." Nell spat.

Nell had tried to forget about Sofia. How badly she'd wronged her. But despite her wrongdoings Nell couldn't help bu sympathise with the pale woman. The only reason that she'd been on the path she'd taken was because of that idiot brother of hers.

Nell was furious at Sofia.

"I was curious if you could lead me to the nearest tavern to spend the night..."

Sofia hesitated.

"Blimey you tossers really do think people owe you the bloody world! You expect me to give you a place to stay after that. That! Nutter Poynton proper fucked shit up?"

Nell chastened

"I'll pay double your price."

Sofia bribed

"You know what?" Nell mocked as she paused from getting on her horse to step towards a desperate Lady Wilmot.

"What." Sofia answered firmly.

"I am absolutely fucking knackered. And I do not want to deal with your shit. So I'll let you stay. But just know this is a one off. Alright."

Nell hissed at Sofia.

"Well? What're you waiting for my lady."

Nell droned sarcastically.

Sofia felt a lump in her throat. But not one of fear. One of potential arousal.

The mere thought of setting off on horseback with a handsome Nell was a memory that would replay in her head for ages. Though she'd never admit that to the woman herself. She always found herself staring for a bit too long at all the wrong places. Even if they were at eachothers throats.

She swallowed it down. And put all her feelings aside so they could have at least one pleasant experience with eachother.

Nell was waiting for the woman in silk robes growing impatient as she'd already gotten on the horse a few seconds ago. Then finally Sofia stepped up and onto the horse.

"You know you're gonna fall off if ya don't hold on right?"

Nell stated.

"Of course i know that im not daft. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Sofia muttered.

"Well you clearly have history of being considerate..."

Nell whispered under her breath.

"What was that?"

Sofia questioned obliviously.

"Nothin just hold about my waist."

Nell said nonchalantly.

Whereas Sofia was burning up without any particular reason she was aware of. She caught a wiff of the perfume the rogue used. Surprising to the Lady. As she'd thought that Nell would smell like the lower class typically do.

With a click of her tongue the horse obeyed Nells every order. Every tug of reign. And Sofia found it mesmerising.

Sooner to Sofias dismay, they'd arrived at The Talbot. Where this moment would end.

Read more on Wattpad!

Title: Stand and deliver