#battle of dunbar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cromwellrex2 · 6 months

Text

The Third Civil War, August-September 1650: ‘all in disorder and running, both right wing and left.’

Dunbar: Cromwell’s Greatest Triumph

Highlander Pikemen at Dunbar by Graham Turner. Source: Warfare History Network website

WITH HIS unseemly betrayal of Montrose and, in effect the cause of High Church Scottish Royalism, Charles had given himself little choice but to accept wholeheartedly the requirements of the Scottish Committee of Estates and to relinquish Anglicanism. This conversion was not a happy one: Charles departed the Netherlands on 2nd June 1650, and when his ship was forced to dock in Helgoland, seeking refuge from Commonwealth naval pursuit, his accompanying Scottish commissioners required him to sign further binding conditions as sub clauses to the Treaty of Breda, confirming his adherence to Presbyterianism ‘in the presence of Almighty God.’ Charles was now effectively a theological prisoner of the Kirk. When Charles landed in Scotland he was immediately subjected to a regime of Puritan religious indoctrination, in an attempt to purge the young man of what the Covenanters believed were his Popish inclinations, inherited from both his father and his mother. Whereas Argyll’s government were determined to use the influence of their reluctant convert King to justify its suppression of all opposition to Presbyterianism within Scotland, it was not at this stage seeking to extend its creed to England, despite the terms of Breda and the Solemn League and Covenant. The English Commonwealth however were not so sanguine. For the Independents of the Rump Parliament and the New Model Army, the combination of ideological Puritanism with a Presbyterian version of Royalism was a potentially deadly threat, with the risk that any number of dissenters in England could rally to this new challenge to the still barely legitimate Commonwealth. The English Council of State believed a fourth Covenanter invasion of England was inevitable and it determined that the New Model Army should pre-empt this by invading Scotland first.

The command of the expedition was awarded to Oliver Cromwell, but not before a sincere attempt by both the Council of State and Cromwell himself to persuade the old warhorse Sir Thomas Fairfax to do so. Fairfax however declined. He was a reluctant supporter of the Commonwealth, having opposed the execution of Charles I, and was also a sincere Presbyterian who was genuinely troubled by Parliament’s reneging on its commitment to the Solemn League and Covenant: he could see no justification for an invasion of Scotland. On 22nd June, Fairfax, probably the most successful and influential Parliamentary commander of the civil wars, called a permanent end to his military career. Perhaps typically of this general, characterised as he was by his loyalty, dignity and humanity, his departure was prompted by a point of principle. He retired to his estates in Yorkshire, never to return to the political or military fray, his reputation intact.

Cromwell, the champion of religious toleration and opponent of Presbyterian fanaticism, had no such qualms. Promoted to Lord General by the Council, he was provided with an army of 16,000 men, a third of which was cavalry. It was a strong force but as importantly was the calibre of the officers Cromwell had recruited to his staff: Charles Fleetwood, John Lambert, Thomas Pride and George Monck were some of the best military men in the New Model Army, battle-hardened by the fighting in the two previous civil wars and in Ireland. Cromwell still hoped a peace could be negotiated and, once he reached Berwick, called on the Scots to renounce any attempt to invade England. The Scots, with an English army at their gates, unsurprisingly refused. Cromwell crossed the Tweed and into Scotland on 22nd July.

The Committee of Estates put an army of 20,000 in the field under the command of the experienced and capable David Leslie, a veteran of Marston Moor and Philiphaugh. His defence of Edinburgh, organised in a fortified line between the capital and Leith, proved effective against an initial English assault and Cromwell broke off hostilities, but this apparent strength was deceptive. The effective civil war that had overthrown the Engagers following the battle of Preston had led to much purging of Scottish military forces by the Kirk party and the replacement of experienced men with godly and enthusiastic, but poorly trained, replacements. The contradictions of Covenanter policy were also underlined when a visit by Charles to Edinburgh was enthusiastically received by many of the soldiers led to a further purge of 4,000 of the troops, suspected of recidivist Royalism, organised by the radical Presbyterian ministers embedded in the Scottish army.

Nonetheless, Cromwell still found it difficult to bring the cautious Leslie to battle. After a number of inconclusive skirmishes, the general withdrew to Dunbar. His army was wracked with dysentery at this point and by the end of August, his force had been reduced to no more than 12,000 effective fighting men. It began to look as if the Commonwealth’s pre-emptive action may well fail. Leslie sensed weakness and therefore moved his much larger force out of Edinburgh and looked to a pitched battle to defeat decisively the English invasion. Leslie occupied a strong defensive position overlooking Cromwell’s troops on Doon Hill, but urged on by his officers and the Presbyterian ministers, convinced the English were fatally vulnerable, the Covenanter general ordered an advance. As the Scottish forces streamed down Doon Hill towards him, Cromwell allegedly murmured to his officers: ‘God is delivering them into our hands, they are coming down to us.’ However at a subsequent council of war on horseback, Cromwell’s officers recommended that battle be avoided: that the infantry and artillery should be evacuated by sea and the cavalry should force its way south and both should then regroup in England.

Cromwell was not happy to take this advice. He had noticed that as it formed into position, the Scottish right flank was over-extended. In discussion with Lambert, he decided to reorientate his own army by focusing its strength, both cavalry and infantry, on the Parliamentary left, thereby dispensing with the traditional formations of strong infantry flanked by cavalry. This manoeuvring took place under cover of a rainy night, unobserved by a soaked Scottish enemy, confident that victory was already theirs. At dawn on 3rd September, the Commonwealth left, supported by artillery who had also moved into position overnight, assaulted an unsuspecting Scottish right flank, led by Lambert’s cavalry. This caused disarray until Leslie reinforced his right with cavalry and pikemen. Monck’s infantry were hard pressed and began to retreat back across the Broxburn River. Cromwell decided to throw in his reserves not to reinforce Monck, but to attack the stretched Scottish left. This caused complete confusion as Cromwell’s personal mounted guard crashed through the Covenanter ranks. When the Scottish cavalry broke, the battle was essentially over. In the rout that followed some 3,000 Scots were killed where they stood or in flight and some 10,000 were eventually made prisoner, offered the choice of military service in the army of their enemies or enslavement in the Caribbean. Cromwell had won possibly the greatest military victory of his career: it is little surprise that the Lord General took his extraordinary reversal of fortune at Dunbar as a sign of divine providence.

The battle of Dunbar, although ultimately decisive, was not the end of this third British civil war. Although Cromwell occupied Edinburgh on 7th September, Leslie, whose offer of resignation was rejected by the Committee of Estates, regrouped his surviving forces, numbering approximately 4,000, and took up strong defensive positions at Stirling. Cromwell, meanwhile, master of much that he surveyed, determined to finish the menace of the Solemn League and Covenant once and for all, by negotiating an end to militant Presbyterianism in Scotland, thereby also ending Scotland’s attempt to restore Charles II to his throne and any further threat to the integrity of the English Commonwealth.

#the battle of Dunbar #english civil war #third english civil war #war of the three kingdoms #Charles II #oliver cromwell

0 notes

mod-a-day · 1 year

Audio

Tommy Dunbar, Dan Nicholson (Maelcum) "Human Victory Ditty" (MOD Arrangement) Star Control: Famous Battles of the Ur-Quan Conflict, Volume IV (1991, 1992) Toys for Bob

0 notes

arewordsenough · 4 days

Text

Liam Dunbar - Path of the Berserker Barbarian

For some barbarians, rage is a means to an end—that end being violence. The Path of the Berserker is a path of untrammeled fury, slick with blood. As you enter the berserker’s rage, you thrill in the chaos of battle, heedless of your own health or well-being.

Teen Wolf characters as D&D 5e subclasses (2/21)

#teen wolf #dungeons and dragons #liam dunbar #my aesthetic

29 notes · View notes

mummybear · 8 months

Text

My Brother's Best Friend - Part Two - Too Much

Words: 4085

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Mention's Of Blood, Tiny Bit Of Smut, Multiple Heart To Heart, Protective Scott, Possessive Stiles, I think that's it! :)

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Reader/Sadie McCall, Lydia Martin, Liam Dunbar, Allison Argent, Melissa McCall.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski and Reader

Summary: Tensions are running high when you discover more than you had ever imagined has happened over the past few months. What you do discover after all this time might only be the tip of the iceberg.

A/N: Hey guys, so this is part two! Thank you to everyone who has read/liked/commented on the first chapter I appreciate it more than you know! This chapter is a little more angsty than the last so I hope you enjoy it, had to bring in momma McCall for this one! Enjoy, and let me know what you think! :D

Chapter 2 - Too Much

The drive back home is silent, the air thick with tension. Almost like nobody dares to speak a word. Stiles flexes his fingers and they move further up your thigh. You have to fight your body's reaction to squirm against the onslaught, you want him closer and you want him to stop all at the same time. You bite your lip when his long fingers brush against the edge of your panties. Fighting every instinct currently battling it out in your psyche, you close your legs, trying to focus on the road ahead, rather than the insatiable man beside you.

Your eyes snap toward Stiles when you hear a deep and pleased rumble coming from him, as he buries his nose in your neck his lips slowly make their way up. Not stopping until his teeth are nibbling at your ear. You can taste the slight hint of blood on your tongue as you continue to bite back the whimper of want building in the back of your throat. Suddenly though, you lose control when his fingers brush against the dampened lace of your panties.

“Is that all for me? So fucking wet,” Stiles rasps his voice almost a growl, as his teeth drag across your ear lobe and another whimper leaves your now parted lips.

“Stiles. Stop, for fuck’s sake,” Scott growls, and you swear that you hear the creek of the steering wheel beneath his grip.

Stiles either doesn’t care what your brother has to say or he just simply doesn’t listen. The next thing you know his lips have dropped to your neck once again, and he’s sucking what you have to assume is going to be a mark into your neck. He releases the skin with a gentle nip of his teeth and he groans when his fingers push your panties to the side, no doubt happy to finally get to your bare skin. You suddenly forget where you are and who you’re with. You can’t explain it, but the next thing you know you’ve parted your thighs, and you’re rolling your hips to get closer to him.

“You want me to make it all better, beautiful?” he growls, dragging two long fingers through your slick.

“Please, Stiles. I need it,” you whimper as those fingers slowly but firmly circle your clit.

“So fuckin’ wet. All fucking mine.” He moans as your fingers wrap around his wrist and you push his hand closer to you. Letting out a shuddered moan when his fingers move to your opening.

“Right. That’s it, I’ve had enough.” Scott snaps, and Stiles pulls you against him right as Scott slams on the breaks.

Stiles grins at you as he slips his fingers between his lips, your gaze is glued to him as he sucks those fingers between his plump lips and moans in pleasure.

Suddenly the back door opens, and it’s almost ripped off of the hinges, you’re dragged from the car by Lydia, apparently you had made it home.

“Hey Lyd’s,” you grin at her dreamily, letting her tug you further away. Leaving just enough room for Scott to barge in.

“Hey Mini, hell of a night, huh?” She smiles, wrapping an arm around you, probably worried you still can’t stand up properly. In truth she’s not totally wrong.

You wince as Scott drags Stiles from the car and roughly slams him against the side of it.

Suddenly it's like you’re doused in reality, as your lust fades a little further into the background. Leaving it so that you’re able to focus once more on your surroundings. What you see leaves your mouth open in shock. Lydia takes your hand and gently squeezes it, while you both watch the scene unfold, but the shock of what you are watching leaves you unable to squeeze back.

Because it looks as if Stiles is fighting against Scott, and Scott doesn’t exactly appear to be finding it very easy to keep Stiles in place. You can’t see Stiles’ face, but you can see Scott’s red Alpha eyes reflected in the window of the car. The sudden roar that cuts through the air even has you scared. You haven’t heard your brother this angry in a long time, and even Lydia flinches beside me as instinctively pulls me closer, while the other wolves bow their heads in submission to their Alpha.

Your hold on Lydia’s hand would be painful for most people, luckily you know she can take it. Scott’s forehead presses against Stiles' as they seem to have a quiet conversation, so that nobody can hear. There’s a collective sigh of relief when Scott steps back and releases Stiles, leaving him to sag back against the car.

However, then the confusion is back for you. The humiliation of what you’d let Stiles do to you in front of everyone in that car, including your big brother, his best friend. You can feel the deep blush as it covers your body. You need to get out of here, you take Lydia by surprise when you yank your hand free from hers, slowly stepping back away from the scene and everyone involved. Almost as one everyone turns to look at you, and your heart hammers painfully in your chest. A tear rolls down your cheek, you just don’t understand, what the hell is going on?

In the right place at the right time, maybe you’d have gone there with Stiles, but not that fast, and certainly not the two places where things had happened tonight. It was almost as though you had no control of your actions, no control of your own body or mind.

“Sadie? Hey, it’s okay. This isn't your fault, none of it is. Just come inside, I think we should all talk.” Scott sounds so sincere, not one look of judgement on his face, he’s stepping closer slowly, like you’re a wounded animal that he’s scared will run if given the opportunity.

The tears are falling now, thick and fast, but you don’t dare to look anywhere that isn’t your brother. Too scared of what you might see on his friends' faces. There’s one direction in particular that you can’t even consider glancing in, because you’re terrified of the look of regret that will be on his face.

You continue to step back though, you need to be anywhere but here and quickly. Your heart is aching painfully, you don’t know what to do, your head hurts so much right now.

“Please, dont,” Scott practically begs, his big brown eyes meeting yours, but when he takes another step towards you, you do the only thing you can. You run.

You don’t even know where you’re going, unable to think straight or see very well in the dark you simply take off. Scott knows you well enough to know that if he follows you, you wouldn’t want to talk about anything right now. So all you hear as you run is your own heartbeat thundering in your ears and the wind whipping around you as you sprint faster than you have in years. You don’t stop until your legs and lungs are burning, only stopping to rest against the railing by the lake. Letting your head rest on your arms, sucking in air the best you can.

When you finally have your breathing under control, you stumble back into the bench behind you and sink into it with a thud. Tilting your head back, you look up at the stars, wishing that anything about tonight had made any sense.

Your lifelong crush had made out with you, in fact you’d even taken things to the next level. You can’t help but think that you should be happy. But so many things about tonight don’t make any sense, and you hate it. You need this night to make sense. You can’t forget the look of desperation on Stiles’ face when it had just been the two of you, even if he liked you a lot, that look, you just don’t understand it completely. You’d known him your entire life and he had never once looked at you that way. It was almost like he was terrified you’d turn him away, even more than you’d been that he would do the same to you. Then there’s that word he’d growled before he’d pounced on you. Mate. What the hell did that mean? Not to mention that purple glow his eyes had. Once you have chalked it up to a trick of the light or something, but you had seen it alot more than once.

Before you can drive yourself insane you hear the crunch of leaves behind you, and you jump up and spin around. But your anger very quickly deflates when you see the one person who always knows how to make everything better. “Mom? What are you doing out here?” you ask in an almost broken whisper. Trying to keep your voice even, though you know it’s pointless, she knows you too well. Not to mention that the person who had sent her here would’ve told her everything anyway.

“Baby, come on. You know better than to try that around me,” she smiles gently, pulling you into her arms as soon as she’s close enough.

You sag against her as she wraps you in her arms, burying your face into her shoulder and the tears come once again. She doesn’t even try to stop the tears, only holds you tighter, until they stop on their own.

When you’ve finally stopped shaking she leads you over to the bench, and you take a seat before she turns you around to face her.

“You want to talk about it, sweetheart?”

“I dunno if I can. I mean this isn’t exactly normal stuff. Even if it was and I wanted to talk, this is why I should have a friend to talk to, but since Callie. I just can’t,” you sniff, trying to block out memories of your best friend.

Callie had been killed last year, thankfully nothing to do with werewolves or the supernatural. Not that it would have made much difference, she was still gone. You missed her like crazy, she knew everything about you and your crazy mixed up family, it never scared her away, she was always there, no matter what was happening. Until that one night. It felt as though your heart had been ripped out when you’d received the news. It still does when you think about it for too long.

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. Though part of this is perfectly normal, honey. I know you’ve always had a soft spot for Stiles. I can just listen if you want? You can leave out anything you don’t want to tell me,” she smiles, nudging you gently with her shoulder when you look at her, your face unable to hide the shock that she knew.

“How did you..?”

“How did I know about Stiles?” she chuckles quietly, cupping your cheeks so that you meet her eyes.

“Because, not to be a cliche, but I am your mother.” she winks at that, making you smile, then she shrugs and wraps her arm around your shoulders, “and honestly, I think the only people who didn’t know were Scott and Stiles. Those boys, I swear they haven’t changed since they were kids.”

That fond smile on her face is one you can’t help but share, with a defeated sigh you meet your mothers eyes.

“I know you won’t tell me any details, but something’s going on right? I’m guessing you know Stiles has changed somehow? You just won’t tell me how, right? He has to tell me himself, or Scott?”

“We never could keep anything from you baby girl. Yes, a lot has changed, with Stiles, and otherwise. Honestly I wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining this. I mean… It’s big, I won’t lie. But I know you can handle this Sadie.”

You swallow the lump which has lodged in your throat as you stare down at your hands, “I’ll try. That’s all I can say, until I actually know what’s going on. Unfortunately I guess we can’t put this off forever.”

You stand and take your mom’s offered hand and the two of you make the short walk back to the house, albeit slowly, she knows you well enough to know that you need time to process everything still.

“If you need space then you tell me. I’ll make sure you damn well get it, Alpha or not, he’s my son and your brother. You know he will do whatever is best for you. If you want, we’ll make them wait until morning? It’s your call, sweetheart.”

“Pretty sure there’s only one thing I can do.”

You straighten your spine and take a deep breath, looking over at the woman on your right. She’s by far the strongest person you’d ever met, and likely ever would meet. You’re pretty sure that you already know what she would do in your position. Clenching your free hand into a fist, you turn to look at her. Melissa McCall could’ve become a victim so many times in her life but she’d never become one, and you intended to follow in her footsteps, no matter how difficult the situation, you wouldn’t let anyone break you.

As if she can read your mind she gives your hand a squeeze and smiles, “that’s my girl.”

When the two of you return home the house is deathly quiet, no sign whatsoever of anyone outside the house. Immediately your mind goes to the worst case scenario and judging by the slow steps your mom is taking, she’s thinking along the same lines.

The front door creaking open is the only sound in the house, and it sounds so much louder when it’s surrounded by the silence. “Maybe they just left?” you whisper hopefully, not even believing the words as you say them.

Almost as if by muscle memory, in the pitch black you wrap your fingers around the end of Stiles’ baseball bat, you’re a little surprised that it’s still here, when he doesn’t appear to be. But you’re not about to complain about having a weapon when you need one. As you move through the kitchen there’s the slight drip of the tap, a sound which seems to almost bounce off of the walls in the silence. You can even hear the sound of the wind whistling against the windows but nothing else.

The hand that’s wrapped around yours tightens further, as you’re pulled closer to your mom’s body. You take another step forward when a thought occurs to you, swallowing your fear you whisper once more.

“What about the basement? We sound proofed it, could they be down there and we’re worried over nothing?”

The moonlight almost seems to light the path as soon as your mom gives you a nod of agreement. The basement had been installed shortly after you’d all gotten Stiles back from the Nogitsune. It had come in handy more than a few times in the past. You feel your nerves escalating, the closer that you get to the basement, the worse your nerves become. You regretfully put the bat down by the door as you carefully turn the doorknob, wincing at the squeak you’re certain will follow. Fully aware that the basement had been sound proofed, and if they are down here, then you wouldn’t know until you open the final door at the bottom of the steps.

With all of that in mind you take the stairs slowly, carefully manoeuvring around the third step down, since that one has always squeaked rather obnoxiously.

Your entire body feels as if it’s shaking from adrenaline and nerves as you reach the bottom of the stairs, wiping your hands on your clothes, you then reach for the door handle. When suddenly the door opens. You stumble back in alarm, grabbing for the baseball bat, which you quickly hold above your head, quickly stepping in front of your mother.

However, you quickly lower the weapon, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when your eyes land on your rather dishevelled looking brother.

“Scott, what the hell is going on?” you ask urgently, hearing a deep growl coming from the room behind him, and the clang of chains is unmistakable.

Your brother gives you a pitying look as he chews nervously on his bottom lip, to your surprise he steps out of the room, gently taking you by the shoulders, he pushes you back into the hallway.

“We should really talk, Sadie. Just come upstairs. Mom could you maybe…” he nods his head towards the door behind him. With a smile she gives your hand a final squeeze, before she releases you. Quickly doing whatever it was he had asked of her, she seemed to know exactly what it was though.

“Come on, we should sit. I’ll even get your favourite ice cream out,” he grins at you, but you know your brother well enough to see that he’s nervous.

“Well, shit. This really must be serious, Scott McCall sharing with the pain in the ass little sister.” Your joke seems to fall on deaf ears as Scott simply sighs, he looks tired, like dead on his feet tired. You gently grab his arm as you both sit on the sofa with the tub of ice cream between you, “Hey, you’re okay, right? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“I’m okay, mostly at least. I just really wish we didn’t need to have this conversation, especially not now, not like this, Sades. I don’t even know where to start.” Scott tells you quietly, dragging a hand over his face, the stubble along his jaw is almost becoming a beard at this point. Something so unlike your brother that you’re surprised you’re only just realising.

Seeing your overconfident brother so unsure is so unusual to you, he hasn’t been like this since before he’d become a werewolf. You could count on your hands the few times you’d seen him return to this unsure worried version of himself. Which only made you all the more nervous, but you didn’t want to push him to hurry up and explain. You’d let him take his time, because as much as you needed to know, he was your best friend and your protector. Seeing him like this hurt more than you could've ever imagined.

Moving the tub aside you lean your head on Scott’s shoulder, “Maybe you should get some rest, you look like shit big brother,” you laugh when he shoves you off of him with a grin.

You turn to face each other, pulling your legs under you, the way you used to when you were kids. When you were wanting to have one of your conversations, where Scott plays big brother and gives you his sage advice. Not that it was always good or right. Half the time it was stuff that you knew already, or stuff that you would never do. But you loved him for trying all the same.

Your father had left not long after you were born, and as young as Scott had been he’d stepped up for you. He was the one man you knew you could count on, no matter what, and that wasn’t going to change you were sure of it.

“You don’t need to look out for me, Mini, that’s my job, remember. I look out for you,” Scott smiles, gently nudging your shoulder.

“No, you're my brother, that was dad’s job. But I prefer you anyhow,” I smile at him, and lean into the sofa.

“So which is it? Bed or are we gonna do this now?”

Scott sighs and straightens in his seat, and just like the Alpha is back.

“Oh I wish I could, little sister, you have no idea how good a bed sounds right now. But we’re doing this now.”

“Okay, I’m listening. Tell me everything that I don’t know about, might as well get it out of the way.”

“You remember a few months back when I went to visit Stiles?” he asks you carefully, and you’re already shocked.

“This has been going on for months!? You’ve been lying and hiding this from me for months! I understand most of the time Scott, but dammit something that’s as important as this clearly is, you should’ve told me!” you almost shout, unable to hide or hold back your anger. Especially when it quite clearly seemed to concern you.

“Go on,” you sighed apologetically, realising there was no point in being angry about this, of course he hadn’t told you, yet another time he was trying to protect you no doubt.

“Sadie, if we had any idea any of this would end up involving you I would’ve told you the second everything happened.”

“It’s fine, Scott, I understand. But it isn’t just that this involves me but it’s clearly important.” Shaking your head you clear your throat, before looking back at him, doing your best to reign in your anger. “Anyway, yes I remember, you said something about Stiles needing help, but you never did tell me what he needed help with.” Your need to know more only grows the more he talks about Stiles, something is definitely off, and you’re worried some of your earlier thoughts may have been correct.

Nothing could have prepared you for your brother’s next words however.

Taking a deep breath Scott tells you the truth of that weekend away he’d had.

“Stiles had been struggling for months. He uh… he was starting to forget things, silly things at first, then he really started noticing it and he called me. He was too scared to go to the hospital, he didn’t want them to tell him what he already knew.” Scott lets out a shuddering sigh, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Your mind is begging him not to say what you already know is coming, “go on,” you whisper nervously, grabbing his hand when he reaches for you.

A tear drops from Scott’s eyes when he meets yours and you swallow thickly, “I...I convinced him to go to the hospital. Yanno, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Part of me wishes he’d ignored me, but he needed to know. We needed to start planning. Unfortunately, the doctors only told us what he already knew. Fuck this is hard.” Scott moans quietly, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “Stiles had developed frontotemporal dementia. Just like his mother. It fucking broke him Sades, he tore out of that room so damn fast. I followed him, but he told me he needed time to process, just some time alone.” Scott’s voice is shaking so hard, and you feel like your heart just broke in half, but you know only by the look on your brother’s face that isn’t where the story ends.

Clearing your throat you squeeze his hand, “there’s more, isn’t there?” you ask tentatively, feeling the tears fall freely from your eyes.

“Fuck, do I wish there wasn’t,” he mutters, his laugh devoid of humour. A roar sounds from the basement, and then you hear a door slam. You look at your brother with wide eyes and he sighs sadly once more. “I shouldn’t have let him go alone. He was worried he was being followed during training by something, he didn’t know what yet and he didn’t tell me, not until that day in the hospital waiting room. I should have followed him, but he needed space.” Scott looks up and meets your eyes once more, “I was walking around the parking lot of the hospital when I heard him scream. Then I remembered his stories, and I didn’t even think, I just ran as fast as I could. But by the time I got to him, he was bleeding out on the floor, Sadie. He looked so bad, he was white as a damn ghost, could barely keep his eyes open, I lost it. My instincts… just kicked in.” Scott whispers the last bit as another tear rolls down his cheek.

Jumping to your feet you feel your breathing start to change, as you try to consider what else he could be about to say, but only one thing comes to mind.

“Don’t say it, Scotty, please.”

He gets to his feet and pulls you into his arms before you collapse, “I did it. I bit him.”

Tags:

@julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @lilulo-12fanfiction @charmed-asylum @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @akshi8278 @peaches007 @stylesismyhubs @peachyyybabyy @fantasy-myth1 @death-unbecomes-you @coffeebooksandfandom @magssteenkamp @screamxqueenx94 @brien-odylan @riseandshinelittleblossom @ceceliaking-18 @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @missindecision @deans-number-one-fan @onethirstyunicorn @amberboo329 @chewie-redbird

#my brother's best friend #scott and stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles x you #stiles stilinski x you #stiles teen wolf #teenwolf #chapter 2

74 notes · View notes

scotianostra · 2 months

Text

On March 28th 1318 A Scots army retook Berwick on Tweed.

Some sources give "April" as the date of the battle one of my sources gives this exact dates so rather than a vague month I am posting this today.

Following the decisive victory at Bannockburn in 1314, the only stronghold Edward II's army held was the border town of Berwick, a town that has been fought over and changed hands many times over the centuries, at one point it was Scotland's wealthiest port.

In September 1317, King Robert Bruce attempted a siege of the town, which lasted until November before he withdrew. The following year, an English sergeant was bribed to allow a party of Scots to climb the town wall. The raiding party, led by Sir James Douglas, and possibly the Earl of Dunbar, took the town after a fight.

The castle was warned when they lost control of their men, who began to plunder and failed to capture the castle. King Robert soon arrived with an army, and after an eleven-week siege, the castle garrison capitulated due to a lack of supplies. The English burgesses were expelled, and King Robert re-established Berwick as a Scottish trading port, installing his son-in-law Walter Stewart as Keeper.

Berwick would change hands several more times in the years to come, before permanently becoming part of England when the town was captured in 1482.

The pic shows The Good Sir James outside Berwick, you can tell this depiction is meant to be pre 1330 as the heart has not been added to his coat of arms as yet.

#scotland #scottish #history #english #england #first war of scottish independence

25 notes · View notes

steellegacy · 10 months

Text

⚜️ Broadsword of Oliver Cromwell, England, c. 1650

Medium: Iron alloy (steel), partially engraved; chiseled; silver wire; wood

Length (overall): 96.8 cm

Blade: 82.6×4.9 cm

Hilt: 12.9×11.7 cm

Pommel: Height-5.4 cm, Diameter-3.3 cm

Weight: 1405 g

Facts:

▪️ August 9, 1655 - Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell divides England into 11 districts

▪️ Cromwell is an iconic figure in British history

▪️ He was a key figure in the trial and execution of King Charles I

▪️ He has the peculiar distinction of being the only political criminal to be executed two years after his death

Cromwell was exhumed from his grave in 1661 and put on trial by the late king's son, Charles II. Posthumously convicted of high treason, Cromwell's corpse was hanged and beheaded, and his head was impaled on a 6-meter spike atop Westminster Hall. The mummified head remained on the spike for more than 20 years

▪️ In 1960 (300 years after Cromwell's death), Dr. Horace Wilkinson donated the head to Sidney Sussex College at Cambridge, Cromwell's alma mater

"Cromwell's head is buried somewhere in the college chapel, supposedly in a biscuit tin" (says Stuart Orme, curator of the Cromwell Museum)

▪️ Cromwell's most famous quote is "Put your trust in God, my boys, and keep your powder dry," but there's no proof that he actually said it. The line comes from a 19th-century poem called "Oliver's Advice" based on a "well-authenticated anecdote" associated with Cromwell

▪️ September 3 is a fateful date: Cromwell routed the Scots at Dunbar (1650). The Battle of Worcester would prove to be the final action of the English Civil Wars (1651). Cromwell's first Parliament met on 3rd September, 1654.

▪️ Cromwell died suddenly at age 59 on 3rd September 1658. He suffered from a lethal combination of malaria and typhoid fever.

- -

⚜️ Палаш Оливера Кромвеля, Англия, ок. 1650

Материалы: сталь, гравировка; серебряная проволока; дерево

Длина (общая): 96,8 см

Лезвие: 82,6×4,9 см

Рукоять: 12,9×11,7 см

Навершие: высота-5,4 см, диаметр-3,3 см.

Вес: 1405 г

Факты:

▪️ 9 августа 1655 г. Лорд-протектор Оливер Кромвель делит Англию на 11 округов

▪️ Оливер Кромвель - человек, повлиявший на ход истории Англии

▪️ Он был ключевой фигурой в судебном процессе и казни короля Карла I

▪️ Известен тем, что является единственным политическим преступником, казненным через 2 года после своей смерти. Был эксгумирован в 1661 г. и предан суду сыном покойного короля Карлом II. Посмертно осужденный за государственную измену, труп Кромвеля был повешен и обезглавлен, а его голова была пронзена 6-метровым штырем. Мумифицированная голова оставалась на крыше Вестминстерского дворца более 20 лет

▪️ В 1960 г. (через 300 лет после смерти Кромвеля) доктор Гораций Уилкинсон пожертвовал его голову колледжу Сидни Сассекс в Кембридже, альма-матер Кромвеля.

"Голова Кромвеля похоронена где-то в часовне колледжа, предположительно в банке из-под печенья" (Стюарт Орм, куратор музея Кромвеля)

▪️ Самая известная цитата Кромвеля: "Уповайте на Бога, мальчики мои, и держите порох сухим", но нет никаких доказательств того, что он действительно это сказал. Эта строка взята из стихотворения XIX в. под названием "Совет Оливера", основанного на "достоверном анекдоте", связанном с Кромвелем

▪️ 3 сентября - роковая дата Кромвеля. В этот день он одержал победу над шотландцами при Данбаре (1550), разгромил отряды Карла I в Вустере (1651). Первое заседание созданного Кромвелем парламента (1654), после чего этот день был объявлен Днем благодарения.

▪️ Умер 3 сентября 1658 г. в возрасте 59 лет от малярии и брюшного тифа

#кромвель #Cromwell #Broadsword #палаш #меч #вооружение #armsandarmor

#medieval #средневековье #middleages #history #история #arms and armor #broads and broadswords #broadsword #вооружение #меч #палаш #кромвель #оливер кромвель #oliver cromwell

96 notes · View notes