#Peruvian Navy

[desideriumwriter]

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

[the-uncharted-cookbook]

Descendant

Demerara rum, pisco, cachaça, pineapple juice, lemon juice, lime juice, honey syrup, grenadine, and a dash of bitters

"No, they weren't zombies. They were people, or they used to be."

Nathan Drake pulled out his journal and flipped to a page labeled Scare O' Meter. He turned it to me and pointed to a drawing right between a "demon sasquatch" and Sully's mustache: a crudely sketched rendition of a terrifying creature hunched over and baring sharp teeth, aptly labeled "slippery naked guy."

He explained that the legendary El Dorado wasn't a city of gold at all, it was a golden sarcophagus. Whoever was buried inside had some kind of viral infection that changed people, mutated them into terrible, rage-filled monsters. This mummy was worshipped for its great "power" and sealed in gold inside a place of reverence. Spanish conquistadors found El Dorado in the heart of the Amazon in the 16th century and stole it away, bringing it halfway across the Pacific Ocean to an uncharted island as far away from civilization as possible. They paid greatly for their theft. The sarcophagus was opened and the Spaniards were infected, mutating into creatures no longer human. Over the past 400 years, with each new generation born, the descendants of those Spaniards devolved further away from humanity.

A shudder ran through me as Nate finished his tale. El Dorado is at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean now, hopefully lost forever. But the descendants... they're still out there, somewhere.

Naturally, the Descendant is a riff on the infamous and dangerously delicious Zombie cocktail. The Zombie was invented by Donn Beach in 1934 and was an immediate sensation, jumpstarting the tiki craze of the 1930s. Its original recipe was a closely guarded secret until relatively recently which forced imitators to improvise, often to disastrous results. The Descendant is based primarily on the midcentury Zombie recipe written by Donn for Louis Spievak's 1950 book Barbecue Chef. Three different South American spirits are used in the Descendant to showcase El Dorado's Amazonian roots: Demerara rum from Guyana, pisco from Peru, and cachaça from Brazil.

DESCENDANT

Ingredients: 1 oz. aged Demerara rum (El Dorado 12) 1 oz. Peruvian pisco (Barsol) 1 oz. cachaça (Novo Fogo) 1 oz. pineapple juice 1 oz. lemon juice 1 oz. lime juice 0.5 oz. honey syrup 0.25 oz. grenadine 1 dash Angostura bitters Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with pebble ice or crushed ice. Shake and dump directly into a Zombie or chimney glass. Garnish with fresh mint, slapped to express the oils.

As always, the types of spirits you use are important for the flavor profile of the cocktail. For the aged Demerara rum, I use El Dorado aged 12 years but Pusser's British Navy Rum, Hamilton 86, or other aged El Dorado rums will serve just as well.

A Peruvian pisco is preferred over a Chilean one. Each country has specific requirements for pisco production and distillation. Chilean piscos are often distilled multiple times and then watered down to proof while Peruvian piscos are bottled directly from the still. This means Peruvian piscos often have more depth and flavor than their Chilean counterparts. However, if you find the flavor of Peruvian pisco too potent, a Chilean pisco may suit your taste better. If you'd like other uses for pisco, I recommend a pisco sour.

For cachaça, my number one recommendation is the fantastic brand Novo Fogo. Their Silver cachaça is what I use and is the easiest to get your hands on, but I wouldn't hesitate to try the Chameleon or Barrel-Aged expressions if you can find them. Not only does Novo Fogo make delicious spirits, but they operate the Un-endangered Forest Project and are dedicated to rehabilitating the Atlantic Forest in Brazil, which has been decimated by deforestation.

As mentioned previously, store bought grenadine will be much more syrupy and sweet than making your own, so homemade is recommended. It's a fast and easy process and all you need is pomegranate juice and sugar (although pomegranate molasses and orange blossom water help provide more depth and texture). If you do use store bought grenadine, adjust the amount of honey syrup you use to balance out the sweetness.

The Descendant uses honey syrup and grenadine in place of the Demerara syrup and passionfruit syrup (or fassionola) used in the midcentury Zombie recipe. I chose these ingredients for the Descendant because they taste great, they can be found in other recipes in the Uncharted Cookbook, and they're more readily available and easily made. However, if you have Demerara syrup or fassionola on hand, feel free to swap those in instead and see which you prefer.

The recipes for honey syrup and grenadine can be found here.

[alex31624]

I kinda did a Ducksona.

Manuel 'Manu' Flores, an andean cock-of-the-rock. He's from Duckburg, born and raised, but his parents are peruvian immigrants. He's Donald's friend from their navy days, and, inspired by Donald's stories, he decided to become an antique hunter, and explore the world.

He wears a headband to control his rebellious hair. For his father influence, he's a Sporting Cristal fan, as his jacket suggest.

Maybe I'll use him in some fics, maybe not. We'll see.

[cherrytea556]

For Pride Month, I'm gonna reveal a bit of my stolen birchum ocs

Marissa Velaquez

African Peruvian

Aromantic Asexual (Prefers the purple and green flags instead of sunset for her)

Chill

Non-confrontational

Listens to lofi music and game soundtracks

Often plays animal crossing

Has an emotional side that she tries to control

Can be spacey

Hates birchum for racism against latinos

Often enjoys peruvian food

Comfort food is curry

the 'straight man' of the trio

Fluctuating feelings around romance (in fiction exclusively)

Likes romance in songs and books (for a variety of reasons)

Peter Van Le

Vietnamese-Australian

Aromantic Agender

He/it

Cynical/done with everything

Petty

Often vengeance

Hates the school (especially karponzi and birchum)

Loves drama

Would listen to kendricks disses on drake

Main one of the trio (Protagonist)

Gets his clothes from either Hot Topic or Jay Jays

Would relate to nicole from class of 09

It repeately listens to 'dont fall in love' by drako jones

Several urges to strike the middle finger

Tristan Harris

Australian

Non binary aplatonic queer aroace spec

They/it though allows 'he' for closeted purposes (It's friends only call them by their proper pronouns besides karponzi)

Timid

Usually quiet

Often makes dark jokes or remarks

Eccentric one of the trio (always up with crazy ideas)

Hates sports (and birchum)

Has a dysfunctional home

Often with their trio for comfort

Prefer people not call it's trio 'friends'

Listens to emo bands (whether obscure or mainstream)

Big Weezer Fan

Has an aesthetic "crush" on one of it's teachers (Mr Perez - Birchums 'gay navy friend' turned history teacher)

[judgemark45]

The last gun cruiser in any navy. Built by the Dutch in 1953 and commissioned as HNLMS De Ruyter (C801). Then, she was bought by the Peruvian Navy in 1973 and served proudly as BAP Almirante Grau (CLM-81) and became the fleet flagship.

Decomissioned in 2017, with her faith uncertain - at first, there was an idea to turn her into a museum ship. Then, in February 2022, she was listed for sale (for over 1,1M $). Ultimately, she got scrapped in July 2022.

[saltlifehippie]

Peruvian Navy Sailing Vessel. B.A.P Union in Miami

[scotianostra]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[captain-price-unofficially]

Peruvian light cruiser BAP Almirante Grau (CLM-81), the last gun cruiser in service in any navy

[warningsine]

LIMA, Peru (AP) — Peru’s Congress on Thursday passed a law establishing a statute of limitations for crimes against humanity committed before 2002, a decision that human rights organizations have warned could encourage impunity and thwart investigations into serious abuses.

It could also benefit figures including former president Alberto Fujimori and retired military personnel accused of — or even convicted for — crimes committed between 1980 and 2000 during an internal armed conflict that left thousands of victims.

According to the Peruvian prosecutor’s office, the legislation will have a direct impact on 550 victims and 600 cases, including investigations and judicial processes that would be archived or dismissed by statute of limitations.

Fujimori, who governed Peru from 1990 to 2000, was sentenced in 2009 on charges of human rights abuses. He was accused of being the mastermind behind the killings of the 25 Peruvians while the government fought the Shining Path communist rebels.

The new law, in fact, was promoted by the right-wing Popular Force (FP) party, led by Keiko Fujimori, the daughter of former president Fujimori, and it states that “no one will be prosecuted, condemned or sanctioned for war crimes or crimes against humanity committed prior to July 1, 2002.”

Initially approved in June, the law needed a second vote that took place Thursday.

Peruvian President Dina Boluarte can either enact the law or return it to Congress with further recommendations. Boluarte has not said what she will do.

Several lawmakers who were military and navy personnel during the armed internal conflict support the law.

The Institute of Democracy and Human Rights of the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru said in a statement that “the law aims to limit the application of internal justice through the extinction of any criminal liability due to the passage of time.”

In June, several human rights organizations in Peru warned that if the law were to be approved, impunity would be promoted in all cases that are part of the internal armed conflict from 1980 to 2000, including a famous trial in which former President Fujimori was accused of the 1992 massacre of six farmers executed by a clandestine group of soldiers.

Earlier this year, former Peruvian intelligence chief Vladimiro Montesinos and a close aide of Fujimori was sentenced to 19 years and eight months in prison in connection with the 1992 massacre.

According to a truth commission that studied the period of the conflict, the victims were mostly Indigenous people caught in clashes between security forces and members of the Shining Path rebel group. The commission estimates that the conflict killed 70,000 people.

[thethirdromana]

The many, many references of chapter XI of Dorian Gray

This chapter can come across as a bit of a long, boring list of stuff. That's partly because it is a long, boring list of stuff, as we see how shallow Dorian's life of collecting trinkets and misdeeds is, compared with his lofty ambitions to be some kind of thought-leader of his age.

But it's Wilde, so a lot of this chapter has references and connotations that might not be obvious.

the sordid room of the little ill-famed tavern near the docks OK, this isn't particularly subtle given Wilde already tells us it's sordid and ill-famed. But it's probably not just a dodgy pub. Being near the docks implies that Dorian is hanging out with people in the lower classes, almost certainly including sex workers. I think there might also be a nudge-nudge wink-wink implication of homosexuality here - docks mean sailors, and the navy already had a reputation for homosexuality in Wilde's time.

Like Gautier, he was one for whom “the visible world existed.” Théophile Gautier, a French writer, critic and defender of Romanticism. He was flamboyant, unconventional and had lots of affairs.

he might really become to the London of his own day what to imperial Neronian Rome the author of the Satyricon once had been The author of the Satyricon is Petronius, a Roman courtier in the reign of Nero. He was dedicated to a life of pleasure and indulgence, and was an authority on questions of fashion and taste.

the materialistic doctrines of the Darwinismus movement in Germany Darwinismus means proto-eugenics, essentially. You know, in case you needed any more reasons to dislike Dorian.

the one that Bernal Diaz saw when he went with Cortes into the Mexican temple, and of whose doleful sound he has left us so vivid a description "They had an exceedingly large drum there, and when they beat it the sound of it was so dismal and like, so to say, an instrument of the infernal regions, that one could hear it a distance of two leagues, and they said that the skins it was covered with were of those great snakes." Wouldn't say it was that vivid a description, to be honest.

appeared at a costume ball as Anne de Joyeuse, Admiral of France, in a dress covered with five hundred and sixty pearls Despite how this sounds, Anne de Joyeuse was a man, and Dorian didn't go to the ball in drag. Anne de Joyeuse was probably one of Henry III's lovers. (This is the start of a theme developing).

Alexander, the Conqueror of Emathia This is Alexander the Great. (The theme continues).

Lodge’s strange romance ‘A Margarite of America’ A 16th century romance about the love affair between a Peruvian prince and a Russian princess. With a lot of gory bits.

the Duke de Valentinois, son of Alexander VI Otherwise known as Cesare Borgia, who inspired Machiavelli to write The Prince. There are all sorts of rumours about Cesare Borgia, ranging from having lots of mistresses (true) to gay relationships and incest with his sister (probably not true).

Charles of England had ridden in stirrups hung with four hundred and twenty-one diamonds This is presumably Charles I rather than Charles II (who was also Charles of England). Historic Royal Palaces - the people who run the Tower of London, among others - have him on their list of LGBT+ monarchs. They highlight this painting, where he's gazing at George Villiers, who also shagged his dad:

Richard II had a coat, valued at thirty thousand marks, which was covered with balas rubies Richard II, who was rumoured to have had an affair with Richard de Vere, Earl of Oxford.

Henry VIII Who only had relationships with women, as far as history is aware.

The favourites of James I wore ear-rings of emeralds set in gold filigrane Back on the theme again. James I was Charles I's dad, who had a secret passage built between his bedchamber and that of his favourite, George Villiers - the one in the picture up there ^. While most of the people on this list were only rumoured to have had gay relationships, no one really disputes it for James I.

Edward II gave to Piers Gaveston a suit of red-gold armour That would be his lover, Piers Gaveston.

Henry II. wore jewelled gloves reaching to the elbow Henry II, who was known to have shared a bed with William Marshal, the Earl of Pembroke. Which doesn't necessarily mean anything, but... you know. There's a theme.

Charles the Rash, the last Duke of Burgundy of his race At this point I can't tell if Wilde is deliberately throwing in some misdirection, like the mention of Henry VIII, or if my Google-powers have failed me.

the mortuary cloth of King Chilperic Oh hang on a tick. King Chilperic was a 6th century monarch who is known, among other things, for having strangled his wife. Just as Henry VIII had two of his wives executed. So the theme here is either queer relationships - or murdered women.

(We then of course get a series of notable historical figures who, so far as I can tell, don't have any connections to either of these things. Also this bit goes on for ages and this post is already very long, so I'm going to skip past them).

dreadful places near Blue Gate Fields A slum area just north of the docks in East London. Known for opium dens, brothels and murders. Some people have suggested this is an allusion to Jack the Ripper, even a suggestion that Oscar Wilde knew who Jack the Ripper was, which I'm reasonably confident is nonsense.

brawling with foreign sailors in a low den in the distant parts of Whitechapel So what I'm finding quite funny here is that all the dodgy and dissolute places that Wilde has Dorian go are literally just the same place.

Near the docks = East London, probably in the area of Whitechapel Blue Gate Fields = Whitechapel the distant parts of Whitechapel = that would be Whitechapel, then?

The very odd Jack the Ripper website I just read interprets Wilde's descriptions as meaning that he had some kind of hidden knowledge of London's underworld... just as the Ripper would have!! But to me this reads a lot more like Wilde was aware of one (1) suitably shady-sounding location and ran with it.

Here was Philip Herbert That would be James I's lover, Philip Herbert. (What, you thought we were done with these?)

Sir Anthony Sherard Is fictional, but...

the lover of Giovanna of Naples Giovanna of Naples was a real person, who probably murdered her husband. (Nice to get some variety among the murdered spouses).

Lady Elizabeth Devereux A Tudor noblewoman, known for a quite public affair.

George Willoughby... had been a macaroni of the eighteenth century, and the friend, in his youth, of Lord Ferrars I can't find much on George Willoughby, but Lord Ferrers shot his steward, and is known as the last peer to have been hanged in England.

the second Lord Beckenham... he had led the orgies at Carlton House Lord Beckenham is (I think) fictional; George IV, who held wild and extravagant parties at Carlton House, is not.

Tiberius, in a garden at Capri Googling this brings up articles titled things like "The Scandalous Private Life of Tiberius Caesar". That makes it sound like the fun activities of consenting adults, but that's grossly misleading. The people involved were rumoured to be often neither consenting nor adults.

reading the shameful books of Elephantis Elephantis was a Greek poet and physician who wrote a sex manual.

Caligula... Domitian... Elagabalus Caligula was known for sex and murder. Domitian was known for censorship and control of public morals. Elagabalus was known for sexual promiscuity with men and women.

And that's the lot! For the last few paragraphs of the chapter, Wilde actually spells out the various misdeeds of the people he discusses (sex and murder, unsurprisingly), thus sparing me from Googling them.

Congratulations if you made it this far.

[felipeandletizia]

February 2, 2024: King Felipe held a military audience with members of the Peruvian Navy

[dankxsinatra]

orange, mahogany, pink, + navy ! for ze colors

🍊 = accurate. My favorite fruit

Mahogany: Sure! I hope you like Peruvian Ska

Pink: What are you, a cat? If so, on brand

Navy: maybe a little, yeah. Cargo shorts supremacy!

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 11.27 (before 1950)

AD 25 – Luoyang is declared capital of the Eastern Han dynasty by Emperor Guangwu of Han. 176 – Emperor Marcus Aurelius grants his son Commodus the rank of "Imperator" and makes him Supreme Commander of the Roman legions. 395 – Rufinus, praetorian prefect of the East, is murdered by Gothic mercenaries under Gainas. 511 – King Clovis I dies at Lutetia and is buried in the Abbey of St Genevieve. 602 – Byzantine Emperor Maurice is forced to watch as the usurper Phocas executes his five sons before Maurice is beheaded himself. 1095 – Pope Urban II declares the First Crusade at the Council of Clermont. 1382 – Al-Salih Hajji, the last Qalawunid sultan, was deposed by Barquq in 1382, ending the long period of the Turkic Bahri Mamluk period in general and particularly the Qalawunid dynasty and starting the reign of the Circassian Burji Mamluk. 1542 – Palace plot of Renyin year: A group of Ming dynasty palace women fail to murder the Jiajing Emperor, and are executed by slow-slicing. 1727 – The foundation stone to the Jerusalem Church in Berlin is laid. 1755 – An earthquake in northern Morocco devastates the cities of Fes and Meknes. 1809 – The Berners Street hoax is perpetrated by Theodore Hook in the City of Westminster, London. 1815 – Adoption of the Constitution of the Kingdom of Poland. 1830 – Saint Catherine Labouré experiences a Marian apparition. 1835 – James Pratt and John Smith are hanged in London; they are the last two to be executed for sodomy in England. 1839 – In Boston, Massachusetts, the American Statistical Association is founded. 1856 – The Coup of 1856 leads to Luxembourg's unilateral adoption of a new, reactionary constitution. 1863 – American Civil War: Confederate cavalry leader John Hunt Morgan and several of his men escape the Ohio Penitentiary and return safely to the South. 1863 – American Civil War: Battle of Mine Run: Union forces under General George Meade take up positions against troops led by Confederate General Robert E. Lee. 1868 – American Indian Wars: Battle of Washita River: United States Army Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer leads an attack on Cheyenne living on reservation land. 1879 – War of the Pacific: Battle of Tarapacá: The confrontation between the Chilean Army and the Peruvian Army takes place in Tarapacá, the Peruvian victory is consummated with the death of the 2 generals and the capture the Chilean general in said place of battle, headed by the Peruvian victory of General Juan Buendía y Noregia. 1895 – At the Swedish–Norwegian Club in Paris, Alfred Nobel signs his last will and testament, setting aside his estate to establish the Nobel Prize after he dies. 1896 – Also sprach Zarathustra by Richard Strauss is first performed. 1901 – The U.S. Army War College is established. 1912 – Spain declares a protectorate over the north shore of Morocco. 1917 – P. E. Svinhufvud becomes the chairman of his first senate, technically the first Prime Minister of Finland. 1918 – The Makhnovshchina is established. 1924 – In New York City, the first Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is held. 1940 – In Romania, the ruling Iron Guard fascist party assassinates over 60 of arrested King Carol II of Romania's aides and other political dissidents. 1940 – World War II: At the Battle of Cape Spartivento, the Royal Navy engages the Regia Marina in the Mediterranean Sea. 1942 – World War II: At Toulon, the French navy scuttles its ships and submarines to keep them out of Nazi hands. 1944 – World War II: RAF Fauld explosion: An explosion at a Royal Air Force ammunition dump in Staffordshire kills seventy people. 1945 – CARE (then the Cooperative for American Remittances to Europe) is founded to send CARE Packages of food relief to Europe after World War II.