#mr ismay

[kayashe-art]

Guess who keeps getting suckerpunched by another Hazbin Headcanon. Repeatedly. This one's starting to become a problem considering whenever I watch related content there is a 78% chance of it popping out of the woodworks.

Alastor absolutely, 100% believes the absolute worst about J. Bruce Ismay. To the point that even the slander from 1912 to Al sounds like someone trying to make Mr. Ismay look better. You'd have a better chance making Alastor say something nice about Vox than about Mr. Ismay.

Alastor is also 100% convinced that Mr. Ismay got hunted down by the exorcists with prejudice the moment he died even if he died outside extermination day because Al can find absolutely no sign that Mr. Ismay has ever been in hell. Alastor is wrong about that.

[insignificantstrawberry]

Hey... (with the intention of asking you to peg me and afterwards tell me all about the titanic or whatever hyper fixation)

watching the first titanic vhs tape as foreplay

watching the second titanic vhs as aftercare

[felixpretzel]

Choosing Bernard Hill's delivery of the line "I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay" as the last moment on the first VHS was a genius move

[quicksiluers]

Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is...willed into solid reality.

[b-a-n-a-n-a-ss]

Thomas Andrews x reader - Protective

Summary: Thomas has always been protective of his love. But one day Bruce Ismay and Caledon Hockley threaten her and Thomas doesn’t like that. (Reader is 18-21) (Bruce is 42 and Caledon is 32)

Warnings: small cursing, threats to reader, protective Thomas

(This was another request! Thank you so much for requesting this!!💙💙)

—————————————

I walked out of my state room, dressed in one of my favorite gowns. I was walking down to the lobby to meet Thomas so the two of us could go to dinner with our friends. I saw Thomas standing at the bottom of the stairs and walked to him, kissing him on the cheek as a greeting.

“You always look so beautiful my love.” Thomas whispered to me as I wrapped my hand around his bicep and he walked me to the dining room. We saw our friends slowly filling the table and joined them. Thomas pulled out my chair for me, gently pushing me in before sitting down beside me. I was now in between Thomas and Bruce Ismay. The other residents at the table were Margret brown, Ruth, rose, Caledon, and a few others and their wives.

The dinner went as usual, polite conversation and drinking wine. Then dinner was over. Thomas and me walked out of the dining room and to the deck of the boat. We sat on a bench beside each other and looked out into the glistening water. I laid my head on Thomas’ shoulder and he kissed it.

“You are so talented Thomas. Building this ship and letting me come with you.” I praised him. He slide his arm around my waist and gently ran his fingers on my side, sending shivers through my body.

“Thank you love, I love you y/n.” He said with a smile.

“I love you too Thomas.” We we’re about to kiss when the captain of the ship interrupted us.

“I’m sorry to intrude but we need your assistance in the kitchen please Mr.Andrews.” The captain said. Thomas nodded and sadly got up. He kissed my head once more and bid goodbye to me. I frowned as I watched him walk away. I loved spending time with him. But of course as the building and owner of the ship, he had duties to attend to.

I kept looking out at the water, but then I heard heavy footsteps behind me. I turned around slightly and saw Caledon with Bruce.

“Hello y/n, you look like a diamond this evening.” Bruce said as him and Caledon moved to stand in front of me.

“Oh uh, thank you.” I said politely. The two men had always made me uncomfortable, ever since I met them.

“Care to come to my stateroom this evening? I’m sure Thomas wouldn’t mind.” Bruce said as he sat beside me and moved closer to my body. I moved away from him as far as I could and my breath started to quicken.

“No sir, I’m engaged to Thomas. I cannot go with you.” I told him. Bruce scowled and Caledon pulled out a small hand gun. I sucked in a breath and my eyes stayed glued to the gun that was pointed at me.

“Go with Bruce, or you’ll be shot. Give him what he wants.” Caledon said. I shook my head and tried to get up but Bruce caught my wrist and pulled me back down to him.

“Do not try and run. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He sneered as he started to kiss my neck. I whimpered and tried to fight against the men. But it was no use. I was nothing compared to them in strength.

“That’s more like it.” Bruce said. He started to touch my thigh and move his hand higher. I tried to squirm but Caledon pressed the gun against my head. This was it. I was going to be taken advantage of or killed. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Hey let go of her!” I heard Thomas yell. I looked over and saw him quickly coming towards me and the two men. Bruce's eyes went wide then an idea popped into his head. Caledon was glancing at Bruce, trying to figure out their next move.

"Oh Mr. Andrews thank god you're here. You see Y/n was trying to kiss me and seduce me. I was trying to stop her but she wouldn't stop." Bruce said. I felt sick to my stomach. I hate this man.

"Very good try Mr. Ismay. I saw what happened. You were trying to kiss her. and I know my y/n she wouldn't betray me so. Now leave and go to your rooms before I call ship security. And never look in y/n's direction again." Thomas said. Bruce went pale and he nodded before he scurried away with Caledon behind him.

Thomas turned towards me and engulfed me in a tight hug. I relaxed against his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. He rocked the two of us lightly and kissed my head before resting his cheek on my head.

"thank you Thomas. I didn't know what to do." I said.

"Y/n you don't need to thank me. I didn't mind, they shouldn't have done that and those two are cowards. All that's important is that you're safe and well. I still will call the officers and have them take care of the two but for now it's just you and me." Thomas told me.

"Thomas Caledon threatened me. They both did. They had a hand gun and they said that if I didn't give Mr. Ismay what he wanted that they would shoot me. Thomas I was so scared, I was certain I was going to be raped or die." I cried gently into Thomas' chest. Thomas pet my hair and cradled my body.

"I'm so sorry y/n. Let us go have a nice warm bath together then we can lay in bed. How does that sound?" He offered.

"I would like that."

"well then lets go, forget about them. They do not deserve to know your name. You are so precious and wonderful. You're my world y/n"

Thomas kissed me then took my hand and walked me to our state room. We had the bath then just laid in each others arms and fell asleep.

[rmstitanics]

──── MR. ISMAY IN THE YELLOW PRESS

❝ By Tuesday 16 April, the whole world knew who J. Bruce Ismay was. [ … ] The most serious accusation against Ismay was that he put profit before lives, dictating the ship’s speed to the Captain in order to get to New York in record time. ❞

- How to Survive the Sinking of the Titanic

[titanic-officers]

Andrews: "Mr Ismay? What are you doing?"

Ismay: *standing on a chair* "It's my ship, so I can stand wherever I want."

Andrews: ......

Ismay: ......

Andrews: "Where's the spider?"

Ismay: "It's under the table. Please get it for me."

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter 22 - Goodbye Johnboy

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Thank you for getting this far, this will be the last chapter of this story. 💕

Even in the long-uninhabited house, it's not cold, but I still tighten my collar. Ismay... she must have left with the children, something she always wanted. Everyone has their own aspirations, which is understandable. I just wonder if the Lee family will accept her as before—with her husband and ex-wife's children in tow.

"What about Maria? Is she okay, injured?" After John's release, he bought a small villa in the countryside, with a yard, where he lived with his little family. He survived the gunfire on the hellish battlefield, only to die in a shameful ambush.

"Do you want to take her in?" Tommy, still holding the phone, just turned his head to ask me.

"If she's willing, do you mind?" Despite Tommy's attempts to stop me, I still went to John's house. ...Maybe now it can only be called a house.

It's winter now, the yard desolate, remnants of snow covering dry grass, dark red traces winding on the stone path. Without a fireplace, the living room on the first floor is as cold as an ice cellar.

Ismay is not at home, only the children wrapped in thick blankets huddle in the attic. When they see me, they all rush over. I make some hot milk, tuck them into bed, just like seven years ago.

Seven years ago... it was also winter when the Shelby brothers returned from the battlefield. Birmingham train station seems to float before my eyes, John's hearty laughter piercing through the lingering smoke...

I lower my head, wiping my eyes. "Dad is gone."

Maria sits next to me, looking out the window like me. I turn to look at her, but can't find any words to comfort her—because this is the truth. She's 13 now, buried her mother with me, and I can't use the words like "he just went to a place we can't go" to fool her.

"I'm an orphan," she says, her voice choking, trembling as she wipes her eyes.

I embrace her.

I know, just as I thought, even if Maria has no malice towards Ismay, and they get along well, Maria will not admit another woman as her mother. Just like me back then, Maria won't face the ruthless relatives dividing the property, even if Ismay leaves the Shelbys, I'll find a lawyer to settle John's assets and hand them over to her personally. A widow with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

Once she calms down, I bring up my intention to her, "Dear, would you like to come and live with us?"

"What about Harry and them?"

"Just you."

It's not that Tommy and I can't afford to raise Maria's half-siblings, relying on my own assets would be enough to support them, along with my sons, without worry. But now we're at a disadvantage, it's not easy to take care of more children, and I don't want those Italians to use Martha and John's children as bargaining chips. Even if Ismay wants to leave the Shelbys, I'll calculate John's assets with a lawyer and hand them over to her personally. A widowed woman with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

"I'll take care of them."

"Even in this situation, you still think about those children?"

"What can I do, Maria?"

After finishing the conversation, I still went to John's house...

Maybe now it can only be called a house.

Now it's winter, the yard is desolate, the remaining snow covers the dry grass, and dark red traces wind on the stone path. Without a fireplace, the living room on the first floor is as cold as an ice cellar.

Ismay is not at home, only the children wrapped in thick blankets huddle in the attic. When they see me, they all rush over. I make some hot milk, tuck them into bed, just like seven years ago.

Seven years ago... it was also winter when the Shelby brothers returned from the battlefield. Birmingham train station seems to float before my eyes, John's hearty laughter piercing through the lingering smoke...

I lower my head, wiping my eyes. "Dad is gone."

Maria sits next to me, looking out the window like me. I turn to look at her, but can't find any words to comfort her—because this is the truth. She's 13 now, buried her mother with me, and I can't use the words like "he just went to a place we can't go" to fool her.

"I'm an orphan," she says, her voice choking, trembling as she wipes her eyes.

I embrace her.

I know, just as I thought, even if Maria has no malice towards Ismay, and they get along well, Maria will not admit another woman as her mother. Just like me back then, Maria won't face the ruthless relatives dividing the property, even if Ismay leaves the Shelbys, I'll find a lawyer to settle John's assets and hand them over to her personally. A widow with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

Once she calms down, I bring up my intention to her, "Dear, would you like to come and live with us?"

"What about Harry and them?"

"Just you."

It's not that Tommy and I can't afford to raise Maria's half-siblings, relying on my own assets would be enough to support them, along with my sons, without worry. But now we're at a disadvantage, it's not easy to take care of more children, and I don't want those Italians to use Martha and John's children as bargaining chips. Even if Ismay wants to leave the Shelbys, I'll calculate John's assets with a lawyer and hand them over to her personally. A widowed woman with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

"I'll take care of them."

"Even in this situation, you still think about those children?"

"What can I do, Maria?"

After finishing the conversation, I still went to John's house...

Maybe now it can only be called a house.

Now it's winter, the yard is desolate, the remaining snow covers the dry grass, and dark red traces wind on the stone path. Without

a fireplace, the living room on the first floor is as cold as an ice cellar.

Ismay is not at home, only the children wrapped in thick blankets huddle in the attic. When they see me, they all rush over. I make some hot milk, tuck them into bed, just like seven years ago.

Seven years ago... it was also winter when the Shelby brothers returned from the battlefield. Birmingham train station seems to float before my eyes, John's hearty laughter piercing through the lingering smoke...

I lower my head, wiping my eyes. "Dad is gone."

Maria sits next to me, looking out the window like me. I turn to look at her, but can't find any words to comfort her—because this is the truth. She's 13 now, buried her mother with me, and I can't use the words like "he just went to a place we can't go" to fool her.

"I'm an orphan," she says, her voice choking, trembling as she wipes her eyes.

I embrace her.

I know, just as I thought, even if Maria has no malice towards Ismay, and they get along well, Maria will not admit another woman as her mother. Just like me back then, Maria won't face the ruthless relatives dividing the property, even if Ismay leaves the Shelbys, I'll find a lawyer to settle John's assets and hand them over to her personally. A widow with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

Once she calms down, I bring up my intention to her, "Dear, would you like to come and live with us?"

"What about Harry and them?"

"Just you."

It's not that Tommy and I can't afford to raise Maria's half-siblings, relying on my own assets would be enough to support them, along with my sons, without worry. But now we're at a disadvantage, it's not easy to take care of more children, and I don't want those Italians to use Martha and John's children as bargaining chips. Even if Ismay wants to leave the Shelbys, I'll calculate John's assets with a lawyer and hand them over to her personally. A widowed woman with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

"I'll take care of them."

"Even in this situation, you still think about those children?"

"What can I do, Maria?"

After finishing the conversation, I still went to John's house...

Maybe now it can only be called a house.

Now it's winter, the yard is desolate, the remaining snow covers the dry grass, and dark red traces wind on the stone path. Without a fireplace, the living room on the first floor is as cold as an ice cellar.

Ismay is not at home, only the children wrapped in thick blankets huddle in the attic. When they see me, they all rush over. I make some hot milk, tuck them into bed, just like seven years ago.

Seven years ago... it was also winter when the Shelby brothers returned from the battlefield. Birmingham train station seems to float before my eyes, John's hearty laughter piercing through the lingering smoke...

I lower my head, wiping my eyes. "Dad is gone."

Maria sits next to me, looking out the window like me. I turn to look at her, but can't find any words to comfort her—because this is the truth. She's 13 now, buried her mother with me, and I can't use the words like "he just went to a place we can't go" to fool her.

"I'm an orphan," she says, her voice choking, trembling as she wipes her eyes.

I embrace her.

I know, just as I thought, even if Maria has no malice towards Ismay, and they get along well, Maria will not admit another woman as her mother. Just like me back then, Maria won't face the ruthless relatives dividing the property, even if Ismay leaves the Shelbys, I'll find a lawyer to settle John's assets and hand them over to her personally. A widow with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

Once she calms down, I bring up my intention to her, "Dear, would you like to come and live with us?"

"What about Harry and them?"

"Just you."

It's not that Tommy and I can't afford to raise Maria's half-siblings, relying on my own assets would be enough to support them, along with my sons, without worry. But now we're at a disadvantage, it's not easy to take care of more children, and I don't want those Italians to use Martha and John's children as bargaining chips. Even if Ismay wants to leave the Shelbys, I'll calculate John's assets with a lawyer and hand them over to her personally. A widowed woman with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

"I'll take care of them."

"Even in this situation, you still think about those children?"

"What can I do, Maria?"

After finishing the conversation, I still went to John's house...

Maybe now it can only be called a house.

Now it's winter, the yard is desolate, the remaining snow covers the dry grass, and dark red traces wind on the stone path. Without a fireplace, the living room on the first floor is as cold as an ice cellar.

Ismay is not at home, only the children wrapped in thick blankets huddle in the attic. When they see me, they all rush over. I make some hot milk, tuck them into bed, just like seven years ago.

Seven years ago... it was also winter when the Shelby brothers returned from the battlefield. Birmingham train station seems to float before my eyes, John's hearty laughter piercing through the lingering smoke...

I lower my head, wiping my eyes. "Dad is gone."

Maria sits next to me, looking out the window like me. I turn to look at her, but can't find any words to comfort her—because this is the truth. She's 13 now, buried her mother with me, and I can't use the words like "he just went to a place we can't go" to fool her.

"I'm an orphan," she says, her voice choking, trembling as she wipes her eyes.

I embrace her.

I know, just as I thought, even if Maria has no malice towards Ismay, and they get along well, Maria will not admit another woman as her mother. Just like me back then, Maria won't face the ruthless relatives dividing the property, even if Ismay leaves the Shelbys, I'll find a lawyer to settle John's assets and hand them over to her personally. A widow with her children returning to the wilderness needs financial support. Society, even the Gypsy society, is too malicious towards orphans and widows. I think John would agree with what I'm doing.

-

A few months passed, and life in Small Heath began to settle into a new rhythm. The Shelby family faced the challenges that came their way with the resilience that defined them. The absence of John was felt deeply, but they carried his memory forward.

Maria, now a part of the Shelby household, brought a different energy into the home. Despite the hardships, she managed to bring laughter and warmth back into the lives of the Shelby children. Ada, always the pragmatic one, helped guide the family through the intricacies of their evolving circumstances.

As winter gave way to spring, Thomas Shelby found solace in the routines of daily life. The business thrived, and alliances were forged that solidified the Shelby name in Birmingham. He and Grace grew closer, finding comfort in each other's presence amidst the storm that had passed.

One day, as Thomas walked through the garden behind the Shelby residence, he found Grace sitting on a bench, lost in thought. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the sun cast a gentle warmth upon them.

"Tommy," Grace said, breaking the silence, "I never expected this life, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He sat down beside her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We've been through hell and back, Grace. But here we are."

She turned to him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "For Johnboy," she whispered.

Thomas nodded, the weight of their shared losses hanging in the air. "For Johnboy," he echoed, intertwining his fingers with hers.

The Shelby family, though scarred by the battles of the past, found strength in each other. The Shelby Company continued to prosper, and Small Heath, once a battleground, now stood as a testament to their resilience.

In the evenings, Thomas and Grace would take walks through the quiet streets, hand in hand. The echoes of the past began to fade, replaced by the promise of a future they had fought hard to secure.

As they stood on the balcony of their home, overlooking the city that had witnessed their triumphs and tragedies, Thomas Shelby realized that, despite the losses, life had a way of moving forward.

And so, in the fading light of the Birmingham sunset, the Shelby family found a new beginning—a testament to their strength, love, and the enduring spirit that defined them.

-

Years later, the Shelby family found themselves reflecting on the tumultuous journey that led them to where they stood. Small Heath had transformed, and the Shelby name resonated not just in Birmingham but far beyond. The once gritty streets now bore the marks of progress, but the memories of their rise lingered like shadows.

Thomas Shelby, now seasoned by time and experience, sat in his study surrounded by the relics of a bygone era. The clinking of whiskey glasses echoed as he and Diana raised a toast to the legacy they had built. The photographs on the walls captured moments of triumph, loss, and the indomitable Shelby spirit.

As he looked at the framed picture of John, a bittersweet smile crossed Thomas's face. The pain had dulled with the passage of years, but the bond with his late brother remained etched in his heart.

Ada, a pillar of strength for the family, had forged her own path. Her intelligence and resilience had taken her beyond Birmingham's confines, and she had become a symbol of women breaking barriers.

Tommy's children had grown into formidable individuals, inheriting the Shelby grit. Charlie, with a keen mind for business, played a crucial role in expanding the Shelby Company. His sister, Mary, had become a force to be reckoned with, embodying the Shelby strength in every decision she made.

Arthur, though scarred by his past, had found redemption through love. His family had helped him conquer the demons that once haunted him, and he had become a symbol of transformation.

Diana, sitting beside Thomas, reflected on the sacrifices made and the victories earned. The love between them had weathered storms, and their partnership had become the backbone of the Shelby legacy.

The Shelby Company had diversified its interests, and its influence stretched across various industries. The family had navigated the treacherous waters of politics, business, and crime, emerging not unscathed but victorious.

In the dim light of the study, Thomas raised a photo of the entire Shelby family—past and present. His gaze lingered on the faces of those who were no longer there, a silent acknowledgment of the cost of their chosen path.

As the clock ticked, the Shelby family continued to stand against the currents of time. The streets of Small Heath whispered tales of their triumphs and struggles, a testament to the indelible mark the Peaky Blinders had left on history.

And so, with the weight of their legacy behind them, the Shelby family faced the future, their story forever etched in the annals of Birmingham's history.

Fin

[historiavn]

ONCE UPON A TIME, THE WHITE STAR LINE had been Bruce Ismay’s CHAINS. His duties as HEIR kept him tethered to his dictatorial father’s reign, serving as a permanent prison from which he could never escape ( not that the rebellious youth he’d once been ever stopped trying ). Granted, White Star STILL served as his chains even after all these years — but at least things were now different.

Now, Mr. Ismay had built something BEAUTIFUL out of his pain — albeit, not without enormous CONSEQUENCE.

The consequence in question was an OMEN from the gods, delivered straight to the doorstep of Mr. Andrews one fateful March morning just a few months prior. It was this magnificent omen which now gazed upon an equally magnificent and equally legendary creature, her eyes wide and lips parted in pure, unapologetic AWE. Stolen from Titanic was her capacity for speech by this sight — until, of course, she regained some semblance of her wits.

❝ You must be Nagini. ❞ Soft were these words, uttered by Titanic in a DEFERENTIAL tone amidst her bowed head. ❝ It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. ❞

╰► @rh4egar LIKED FOR A STARTER.

[bijoupreciieux]

◤‧₊˚⭐️🎶˚₊‧⁺˖◢  valyria  curtsies  in  appreciation  as  the  passengers  enjoying  their  meals  and  each  other's  company  applaud  her  performance,  what  a  treat  for  them  to  experience  one  of  this  century's  finest  vocalists.  an  acomplished  singer  of  equally  measured  talent  &&  beauty.  there  are  even  some  individuals  who  are  entirely  distracted  from  the  delicious  meal  provided  to  them,  focused  entirely  on  the  songstress  instead.  a  hand  is  offered  to  her,  to  help  her  get  down  from  the  raised  platform  without  tripping  over  her  gown. 

she  smiles  at  the  owner  of  this  beautiful  vessel,  happily  taking  his  hand.  ❝  thank  you  mr.  ismay,  you're  too  kind.  i  do  hope  they  saved  a  plate  for  me?  i  confess  i  thought  i'd  start  drooling  mid-song  at  the  sight  of  the  filet  mignon.  ❞  she  laughs,  the  sound  bright  and  melodic  as  if  music  is  woven  into  the  very  fabric  of  her  being. 

starter for @historiavn ( bruce ismay )

[kindsoulbuddy]

Today I watched an older video of “Tasting History with Max Miller” on YouTube, and was oddly amused by the idea of chartreuse jelly with peaches being the last thing many 1st class passengers ate on April the 14th, 1912.

That prompted me to research more about the Titanic. One thing led to another and I’m looking up photos of the wreck of the Titanic, as you do. I typed “Titanic today”, because I heard the wreck is literally vanishing.

And then…movie showtimes appear in my Google search. Multiple theaters, multiple showings.

Being a little confused, I looked deeper into this, and as it so happens:

We are now at the 25th anniversary of the film “Titanic”.

Why are we still captivated by the Titanic and it’s maiden voyage, which happened 110 years ago?

Why am I still thinking about the Titanic movie? That was apparently 25 years ago! But it feels like 84 some days.

Was I the perfect age at 11/12 for the 1997 movie to capture my imagination? I guess so. I was the perfect preteen age for the Titanic film, as well as The Spice Girls and later as a teenager, the Lord of the Rings. The stars aligned for me.

You think people are nuts about it now? People were Titanic-Crazy in 1997/98! The local library hosted a Titanic movie night (“A Night to Remember”, an old black and white film), and I also attended a Titanic themed tea party. I read the CD insert of the Titanic soundtrack while listening to Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”. My mom sewed a beautiful costume for my sister who dressed as Rose for Halloween, complete with the Heart of the Ocean “diamond” necklace.

Old tech alert: I remember when the 1st vhs ended and it was time to take the 2nd half of the movie out and pop it in the vcr.

“Well, I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay,” - Captain John Smith. Then…black screen.

Technically it’s a disaster movie, but it had the love story and that did it for many people.

If I’m honest, the love story wasn’t my favorite but the sinking in almost real time was thrilling. I also loved and still love the costumes and the set decorations and the music.

I think seeing a young girl finding joy in life and deciding that she’s never going to be small and meek ever again, was my favorite thing.

Rose got to do everything she and Jack talked about (including, I imagine, throwing up on the Coney Island roller coaster). If she hadn’t met Jack, she’d be long dead inside, if not actually passed on. Her life force was in danger of being snuffed out at 17. She was literally suicidal. I think they could have had this storyline without the whirlwind romance but, at the end of the day that’s what sells.

I vividly remember my theater experience watching it. I was not allowed to watch 2 scenes:

1. When Jack draws Rose like one or his French girls. (So, I peeked through my fingers anyway. And seeing the gorgeous Kate Winslet posing nude on a couch awakened something in me…yeah I’m Bi. My friends swooned over Jack; I had complicated feelings about Rose, and didn’t understand them yet.).

2. And toward the end when we see frozen dead, wide eyed people being pulled from the dark water. I actually listened to my mom and didn’t look; many years later I looked and I’m still sorry.

I also remember looking around me during Jack’s death/“I’ll never let go!” scene, and seeing in every direction in the movie theater, crying women and girls. Tears streaming down faces, heaving sobs, ugly crying. Faces lit up by the blue light the screen was giving off; the scene was a blue dimly lit one.

I never cried at that scene. But I always cry or tear up at these scenes:

1. The father telling his children they’ll be separated only for a little while, as they cry for him from the lifeboat.

2. The scene when the 3rd class mother tucks her children into bed, telling them a bedtime story. The lifeboats were gone, and the ship was sinking fast, and she knew they would die.

I’m not sure how, as a parent, you don’t feel something during these scenes.

I’m not going to go to the theater to experience 4k Titanic. But it’s fun to revisit this movie.

[toxicradio]

While Jack and rose was a tragic story, the actors playing the passengers are hella underrated.

The mothers holding their children, trying to comfort them knowing they're going to die. The priest trying to comfort those praying with him despite struggling to accept he will die. The people on the life boats who can do nothing but sit and listen to the screams of several hundred people and the groaning breaking of the ship. Having to sit in the pitch black night and listen as the screams slowly faded into silence, listening to people dying. The actors screaming in the movie is too real, the terror on the actors faces too real. Rose watching the young girl her age plumet to her death. The passengers who didn't speak any or much English. Mr andrews and his "im sorry i didnt build you a better ship". The captain realizing he let Mr. Ismay push him against his better judgement and sentencing hundreds to a terrifying and tragic death over pride. Mr. Ismay and the guilt and shame of saving himself instead if giving that spot to another would who hadn't condemned a shipful of people. The sailors trying to load people onto boats, having to make the decision to stay away knowing panicking people would absolutely drown them.

The actors portrayed this so incredibly that their stories were more emotionally taxing than Jack and rose.

Don't get me wrong, rose realizing jack is dead and then the joy of rejoining him at the end with her loved ones from the titanic. He'll I almost tear up.

But the actors for the passengers and crew...

[redrisingsun]

Friendly reminder that Bruce Ismay wasn’t a coward btw that was all James Cameron

Oh and no one actually knows if Mr Murdoch shot anyone

Just for your information if you’re still in the tag

[if-not-now-tell-me-when]

And finally, after two months, chapter four of Between Yesterday and Tomorrow is posted!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Titanic (1997), Historical RPF, Titanic (1997) RPF, A Night to Remember - Walter Lord

Relationship: Charles Lightoller/Harold Lowe

Characters:

Charles Lightoller, Harold Lowe, Rose DeWitt Bukater, Joseph Boxhall, J. Bruce Ismay, Arthur Rostron, Jack Thayer (1894-1945), Noel Leslie Countess of Rothes, Harold Bride, Molly Brown, Caledon Hockley, Herbert PItman, Harold Cottam, Patrick Murphy (A Night to Remember), Kate (A Night to Remember), Mrs. Clarke (A Night To Remember)

Additional Tags:

Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Falling In Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Love Confessions, RMS Titanic, Edwardian Period, Historical References, historical fiction - Freeform, Titanic Officers, White Star Line, RMS Carpathia, Grief/Mourning, Character Study, Podfic Welcome, Ensemble Cast, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary:

The grandest ship in the world has gone down, leaving 712 traumatized survivors to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives aboard the RMS Carpathia. In the middle of it all are Second Officer Charles Lightoller and Fifth Officer Harold Lowe.

When Charles ordered Harold into a lifeboat during the last frantic moments of the sinking, Harold was sure they’d never see each other again. The love of his life surely disappeared into the icy waters along with the unsinkable ship. But by a miraculous twist of fate, Charles survives. They’re finally reunited on the Carpathia, and after the horror of watching Titanic go down, they can no longer hide from each other or their feelings.

[brassandblue]

❝ did they say how many are dead? ❞

— Bruce Ismay to Arthur Kirkland

Arthur was no stranger to death, nor to the harsh realities of sea voyages, and both were so intimately intertwined-- but it felt... different, this time.

He had involved himself in the aftermath of the sinking, not just as a retired Admiral and active foreign diplomat, but as England, and Arthur, too. He had lost friends and acquaintances, and the terror he'd felt for dear Noel had seized in his chest like a cold vice the moment he'd heard first news. (Jack, normally stalwart, had been beside himself with worry.)

He made himself look Mr. Ismay in the eye, his own green gaze reflecting genuine concern and sorrow. Arthur knew what he was asking--he wouldn't condescend and bandy about with excuses about 'exact numbers'. One simply didn't ask how many were dead if one was after cold statistics. (Not usually.)

After a brief moment, where Arthur could chose his words and tone, he answered:

"There are roughly 700 survivors, Mr. Ismay." Out of a total of 2,240 passengers and crew.

It was a blunt answer for a blunt question, but he had tried to deliver it plainly and with respect. It was all that could really be done.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

This is one of the most smirk worthy moments of the first volume of Charles de Gaulle's war memoirs:

"... on October 7th [1941] I addressed a note to Mr. Churchill to update him on our wishes and means [to have the Free French engaged in the North African front]... At the same time, I wrote to general Auchinleck, commander in chief of the east, to remind him of how much we wanted our troops to fight in Libya... On October 9th I visited Mr. Margesson, War minister of Great Britain, and I begged him to intervene. Finally, on October 30th, I instructed general Catroux on the conditions in which it was convenient that our forces were employed, that is, in big units.

I did not receive any British response until November 27th. It was addressed by general Ismay and Mr. Churchill. Their letter was the equivalent to a rotund rejection, as polite as it was sharp. To explain their refusal, our allies appealed to "the dispersion of the French units across different spots in Syria", the fact that "they were not trained to act as divisions or brigades", and finally, "the insufficiency of their equipment". They expressed, however, the wish that, sometime in the future, the question could be re-evaluated.

The English command was evidently planning on achieving the conquest of Libya and ending Rommel without the French. It is true that they had there considerable land and air forces, and that they believed admiral Andrew Cunningham -magnificent chief and sailor- to be in a position to do more than miracles, by intercepting the communications between Italy and Tripolitania.

It is to be easily imagined the disappointment that the English answer produced in me. I could not allow our troops to remain inactive for time indefinite, while the fate of the world was being sorted in battle. I would rather risk a change of direction. And so, then, I called Mr. Bogomolov and I asked him to make his government know that the National Comittee wished for some French forces to participate directly in the allied operations on the Eastern Front, in case the North African theater was closed to them. I, naturally, made no secret in London of my negotiation.

Even before I received an answer from Moscow, the British intentions had already changed. On December 7th, Mr. Churchill wrote to me a warm letter to tell me that "he had just learned how much general Auchinleck wished to employ a Free French brigade in the Cirenaic operations". "I know", the Prime Minister added, "that this intention matches your own wishes. I am also aware the eagerness your men have of meeting the German face to face."...

At Cairo, Catroux arranged then, with general Auchinleck, the departure towards Libya of the first light division, while Koenig, in charge of negotiating the details, obtained from our allies, a useful bonus in anti-tank materials, anti-aerial guns, and means of transport...

But, if the first light division got an opportunity, nothing was being done for the second one, which languished in the East. And I was determined to see that one taking part as well in the operations. Precisely, on December 10th, Mr. Bogomolov had come to tell me that my project of sending French troops to Russia had been warmly received by his government, and that it was willing to facilitate to our forces on the spot all the necessary material. I began, then, to consider the expedition East, of not only the aviation group Normandie [which, according to De Gaulle, was the only element of the Western allies that fought on the Eastern Front], but of the second light division as well. This one, departing from Syria through Baghdad, would cross Persia in trucks and then, from Tabriz, would be transported by train to the Caucasus... On December 29th I wrote to general Ismay communicating to him my intentions, while at the same time giving the necessary instructions to general Catroux. The second light division was to depart on March 15th towards the Caucasus, unless it was admitted before that to Libya.

The British command opposed this project of moving this unit to Russia with all the possible objections. But in Moscow, on the contrary, the Soviets made a deal of it. Molotov speaking to Garreau, and Panfilov to Petit, asked us to put it in practice. Mr. Eden, once acquainted with this, entered the fray and wrote to me to support the point of view of the English military authorities. I could do nothing but defend my own, and it was the one that in the end was adopted by the end of February by the allied command. Ismay communicated it to me. Auchinleck asked Catroux to put at his disposition the second light division. This one left Syria and arrived at Libya the last days of March.

De Gaulle: you are sorry you think my divisions aren't good enough? That that is the reason why you cannot include them? No problem, I'm gonna ask Stalin if they are too poor for him as well. Well, well, well, would you look at that, apparently the Russians would be delighted and can provide what we are lacking. Oh, now they are good enough for the desert campaign all of a sudden? That's what I thought.

Iconic.