#Laird Hamilton

[cbssurfer]

laird hamilton

[blackros78]

We’re all equal before a wave.

Laird Hamilton

[thisisthemthen]

Laird Hamilton

[guy60660]

Bill & Laird Hamilton | Art Brewer

[successquotes]

Make sure your worst enemy doesn’t live between your own two ears.

Laird Hamilton

[rudyking]

Denver doesn't live here anymore:

JJ is left to deal with his emotions when his son is ready to leave the nest.

The Outer Banks sun beat down, shimmering off the water like a million scattered gold coins. Usually, this was JJ’s favorite sight, a promise of freedom, waves, and questionable-but-fun decisions. Today, though, it just felt… bright. Obnoxiously bright.

Inside the little house on the Cut, a cardboard box sat in the middle of the living room floor. Not a treasure box, not a cooler full of stolen beer, but a moving box. It was already half-full of Denver’s things.

JJ, with his permanent tangle of shaggy blonde hair and trademark mischievous flicker in his blue eyes, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to look casual. Casual like he hadn’t spent the last ten minutes watching his twenty-year-old son fold t-shirts with surgical precision. Casual like his chest didn’t feel like it was being squeezed by a particularly large, emotionally constipated boa constrictor.

Denver, a taller, slightly less chaotic version of his father with Yn’s calm grace, glanced up. "You just gonna stand there, Dad?"

JJ pushed off the frame, forcing a grin that felt glued on. The deep dimples creased his cheeks, but the usual carefree glint wasn't reaching his eyes. "Nah, just… supervising. Making sure you're packing the essentials. Like, uh, that worn-out surf mag with the picture of Laird Hamilton on page thirty-seven. Crucial."

Denver rolled his eyes, a familiar gesture. "Pretty sure they have surf mags in California, Dad. And textbooks are probably more crucial for college."

"College," JJ scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "California. The land of… kale smoothies and people who think 65 degrees is cold." He shuddered dramatically. "What could possibly be better than here? Salty air, questionable life choices encouraged, free therapy sessions via screaming at the waves…"

Yn emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, a soft, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her presence was always a soothing balm in JJ's occasionally turbulent world. "He's going to study marine biology, JJ. It's a fantastic opportunity."

"Opportunity," JJ muttered, kicking lightly at the box. "Opportunity to… abandon his aging, vulnerable father? To trade perfect waves for… whatever waves California has?"

Denver paused his packing. "Dad, I'm not abandoning you. It's college. It's four hours away by plane."

"Four hours?" JJ’s voice went up three octaves. "That's like… forever! That's enough time for a hurricane, a rogue treasure hunt, and a warrant for my arrest! What if you need me? What if some Kook tries to sell you artisanal cheese and you don't know how to say no?"

Yn walked over, putting a hand on JJ’s arm. "He’ll be fine, honey. He's smart. He’s got a good head on his shoulders."

"He got that from you," JJ mumbled, leaning into her touch instinctively. "The smart part. I'm responsible for the questionable decisions part. Which is why he needs me nearby to veto them!"

Denver chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I've managed okay so far."

"Yeah, well, you haven't been fully exposed to the world's sheer potential for unnecessary bureaucracy and disappointing sandwiches yet," JJ stated with the authority of someone who had faced both extensively. He straightened up, suddenly decisive. "Alright. This calls for a Pogue summit."

Yn raised an eyebrow. "A Pogue summit? To discuss Denver leaving for college?"

"Exactly!" JJ snapped his fingers. "Strategic planning! Emotional support! Operation: Remind Denver How Objectively Awesome The Outer Banks Are So He Immediately Changes His Mind!"

Denver and Yn exchanged a look.

"Dad, that's not going to happen," Denver said gently.

"Oh, it's going to happen," JJ insisted, already pulling out his phone. His fingers flew across the screen. "Alright, group chat. Urgent! Wreck, sunset! Mandatory attendance! Bring snacks and existential dread!"

Sunset at The Wreck was supposed to be peaceful. Golden light, gentle waves, maybe a cold beer after a long day. Tonight, it was… chaos.

JJ was pacing the beach in front of the restaurant, a storm brewing in his blue eyes despite the tranquil sky. He was giving Sarah Cameron, looking elegant even in sand-dusted shorts, an impassioned lecture about the migratory patterns of college-bound youth, likening Denver's departure to the tragic, inexplicable flight of a particularly cool, loyal bird leaving the most perfectly good nest.

"It's unnatural, Sarah! He's got a perfectly good room! Surf's good this month! The chiggers are manageable! And he wants to go… west? Do you know what's west? Landlocked states! Deserts! People who wear socks with sandals unironically!"

Sarah, ever patient, offered softly, "JJ, it's California. It's on the coast."

"Details!" JJ waved a hand dismissively. "The point is, he's leaving. And I feel… weird. Like someone stole my favorite wrench. Or like the waves stopped breaking just for my board."

Kiara, wiping down tables with a sigh that suggested she'd already heard this speech three times today, leaned in. "You feel sad, JJ. It's okay to feel sad."

"Sad?" JJ scoffed. "Nah, not sad. More like… existentially aggravated. Like the universe is playing a cruel joke. For twenty years, I've been perfecting the art of being JJ Maybank, Defender of the Realm (specifically, the Realm of 'Denver Should Probably Not Do That'), and now the Realm is... relocating!"

Pope, meticulously arranging cutlery inside, peered out. "Statistically, JJ, most offspring leave their parental units between the ages of 18 and 22. It's a predictable developmental stage."

"Predictable? Pope, nothing about my life has ever been predictable! That's the whole brand! This is a rogue variable! An anomaly!" JJ threw his hands up.

John B arrived, arm around a laughing Yn. "Dude, we got the distress signal. 'Existential dread,' huh? Sounds like a Tuesday for you."

"Ha ha, Maybank Jr.," JJ grumbled, though a sliver of his usual humor peeked through. "This is different, Balboa. This is the next generation! My legacy! Taking off! What if he forgets everything I taught him? Like, the optimal angle for slingshotting a beer can into a trash bin from fifty yards? Crucial life skills!"

Yn squeezed John B’s hand then went over to JJ. "He won't forget, honey. And you taught him a lot more important things than that."

"Like how to hotwire a golf cart?" Pope muttered.

"Exactly!" JJ pointed at Pope. "See? Practical skills! What if his college doesn't offer a 'Fundamentals of Evading Law Enforcement by Kayak' elective?"

Kie finally finished her task and joined the circle. "JJ, he's going to be fine. You're a good dad."

"A good dad who's about to have an empty nest that smells vaguely of old surf wax and teenage boy," JJ lamented, running a hand over his face. He looked genuinely lost for a second, his usual bravado faltering. "What am I supposed to do? Surf all day? That gets lonely after… like, three hours."

Sarah stepped forward. "You'll still surf. You'll still have us. You'll still have Yn. And you'll visit him. He'll visit you."

"Visit?" JJ brightened slightly, then the cloud returned. "Yeah, but it's not the same as him being right there, you know? Asking me some weird question about fixing his bike, or needing ten bucks for a pizza, or just… being in the next room. What if I have a brilliant, completely spur-of-the-moment plan to, I don't know, sail to the Bahamas on a whim, and he's not here to talk me out of it?"

Pope sighed. "We can still talk you out of it, JJ. That’s kind of been our primary function for decades."

"Yeah, but it's not the same family dynamic!" JJ insisted. He looked at them, his blue eyes wide and earnest beneath the disheveled hair. "Guys. I need… I need support. I can't just... process feelings logically like Pope. Or gracefully like Sarah. Or empathetically like Kie. Or... whatever it is John B does."

John B smirked. "I distract you with even worse ideas, usually."

"Exactly! That's what I need!" JJ snapped his fingers. "Operation: Distract JJ So He Doesn't Permanently Attach Himself To Denver's Ankle With Superglue!"

Yn chuckled, shaking her head fondly. "I was hoping you'd get to this part."

"Alright, what's the plan?" Kie asked, despite herself. She knew resisting JJ's manic energy was futile.

JJ rubbed his hands together, a spark of his usual mischief returning, albeit tinged with desperation. "Okay. First, we gotta make Denver's last week so epic, so undeniably Outer Banks, that California pales in comparison. Like, extreme fishing. A bonfire that's slightly too large. Maybe a final, glorious attempt to retrieve something valuable from the swamp, just for old times' sake?"

"Absolutely not the swamp," Yn said firmly.

"Fine, fine. No swamp. How about… we build him a going-away present? Something he can take with him. Something… excessively JJ."

"Like a personalized shiv?" Pope deadpanned.

"Pope!" Sarah scolded.

"Hey! I was thinking more like… a really well-made, slightly illegal speargun!" JJ defended.

"Or maybe," Yn suggested gently, "we just spend time with him. Do the things he loves. Have a big family dinner with everyone. Talk. Listen."

JJ blinked. He hadn't considered that. It sounded… simple. Too simple for his complicated, panicky brain. "But… where's the controlled chaos? The potential for minor property damage? The essential JJ-ness of it?"

"The essential JJ-ness," Kie said softly, "is you being there. Being you. Loving him enough to let him go, even when it hurts."

JJ looked out at the ocean again, the vibrant colours of sunset starting to fade. He knew she was right. He did love Denver fiercely. Loved him enough to want him to have the opportunities JJ never had, the stability he’d yearned for. It just… hurt. A lot.

"So," John B said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Operation Distract JJ... phase one: ice cream. Phase two: listen to JJ complain about California weather for an hour. Phase three: figure out something that doesn't involve weaponry or maritime law violations."

JJ managed a small, genuine smile. It faltered quickly, but it was there. "Fine. Ice cream. But it better be the good stuff. This level of emotional turmoil requires premium dairy."

The last few days before Denver left were a blur of forced cheerfulness, sudden silences, and JJ's oscillating moods. He’d swing from being overly enthusiastic about packing (shoving random, unnecessary items into boxes) to sitting in Denver's room, staring at the shrinking pile of belongings, looking utterly desolate.

He insisted on a "Farewell Surf Session," which mostly involved him paddling aggressively and shouting half-ironic, half-serious warnings about California undertows at Denver. He organized a huge Pogue dinner at the Wreck, where he was simultaneously the loudest, most boisterous person at the table and the one who kept giving Denver long, searching looks when he thought no one was watching.

One evening, sitting on the porch swing with Yn after Denver had gone to bed, the carefully constructed façade finally crumbled.

"It's just… quiet, you know?" JJ said, voice rough. He ran a hand over his face. "Soon. It's gonna be so damn quiet."

Yn leaned her head on his shoulder. "We'll still have our noise, JJ. Just different noise."

"Yeah, but his noise." JJ sighed, a heavy, shaky sound. "His mess. His… himness. It's been here for twenty years. It's part of the furniture." He paused. "Remember when he was little? Used to follow me everywhere. Tried to wear my bandanas. Called me his 'super-dad'."

"I remember," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion too.

"I wanted him to get out," JJ confessed, the words tumbling out, raw and vulnerable. "I mean, really wanted him to have more options than I ever did. To not feel… trapped. To see the world. To be safe. To not have to worry about… everything I worried about. And he is doing that. He's doing exactly what I hoped he would." He clenched his jaw, the dimples looking strained. "So why does it feel like… like I failed? Like I did too good a job, and now he doesn't need me anymore?"

"Oh, JJ," Yn said, pulling him closer. "He'll always need you. Maybe not in the same way, but he needs his dad. He needs your ridiculous stories, your terrible advice that sometimes actually works, your protectiveness, just… you. He’s leaving home, not leaving you."

He buried his face in her hair for a moment, letting the dam of panic and sadness crack just a little. "It just feels like the end of something."

"It's not the end," she said softly. "It's the next chapter. For all of us."

The morning of the departure was surprisingly calm. The Pogue crew gathered in the driveway – John B, Sarah, Kie, Pope – standing awkwardly beside the car packed with Denver's life. JJ was buzzing with nervous energy, fussing over tire pressure, checking oil he knew was fine, finding imaginary lint on Denver's packed bags.

Denver hugged everyone, easy smiles exchanged. When he got to JJ, he paused.

"Hey, Dad," he said, his voice low.

JJ swallowed hard, gripping his son's shoulders. He tried to keep his expression light, the smart-aleck ready. "Alright, listen up. California might have good beaches, but they don't have our beaches. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Don't trust anyone who calls sweet tea 'just tea with sugar'. And if you ever need anything, anything at all, you call me. Doesn't matter if it's three in the morning and you need me to bail you out because you tried to hotwire a scooter – though I taught you better than that, kid – you call me. Got it?"

Denver’s calm façade wavered, a flicker of moisture in his eyes. "Got it, Dad. I love you."

JJ’s breath hitched. The joke died on his tongue. He pulled Denver into a fierce hug, squeezing tight. "Love you, buddy. Go knock 'em dead out there." He held on for a long moment, burying his face in his son’s shoulder, the familiar scent of him, a mix of sea salt and laundry detergent, filling his lungs.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were suspiciously bright, and he was blinking rapidly. He clapped Denver on the back, trying to appear casual again. "Alright, alright! Don't want you to miss your flight or whatever. Text me when you land. And text me again when you get to your dorm. And text me every hour after that just so I know you're not trapped in a giant kale conspiracy."

Denver laughed, the tension breaking. "Okay, Dad. I'll text."

He got in the car. Yn was already in the driver's seat, giving JJ a soft, encouraging look. Denver rolled down the window.

"Bye everyone," he called.

"Bye, Denver!" the Pogues chorused.

JJ stood rooted to the spot, his hand raised in a half. His hand hung in the air for a moment, a solitary gesture against the setting sun casting long shadows across the sand. Denver waved back from the car window, a quick, almost shy movement, then turned forward as Yn gently pulled away from the curb.

The car rolled slowly down the familiar sandy track that led away from their little corner of the world, away from the life Denver had always known. JJ stood frozen, watching the tail lights recede, a bright red punctuation mark shrinking in the distance. The sound of the engine faded, replaced only by the gentle sigh of the waves and the calls of the gulls overhead.

Silence descended, thick and heavy, among the remaining Pogues. They stood there, a small, close-knit huddle, watching JJ. JJ didn’t move. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the spot where the car had disappeared around a bend. He felt like a part of him was being driven away, taking with it the constant, tangible presence of his son. That little kid who used to trail him everywhere, the teenager who argued about chores but always had his back. Gone. Or going, anyway.

A cold dread tried to creep in – the world was big, dangerous. Things could happen. He’d spent Denver’s whole life trying to shield him, to give him the stability and safety he’d never had. And now he was voluntarily sending him into the unknown. The protective instinct, fierce and ingrained, screamed at him to run after the car, to yank Denver out and bring him back where he belonged, safe on the island.

But then, a different image surfaced. He saw Denver, not as the kid who needed protecting, but as the young man who stood tall, who was smart and funny and kind. He saw the way Denver had handled himself, the way he’d navigated tricky situations, the way he’d shown responsibility and independence. He remembered the quiet determination in Denver’s eyes when he talked about college, about his dreams.

He thought of Yn, driving him right now, her steady presence a mirror of the steady foundation they had built for Denver. He looked at the faces of his friends – Pope, Kiara, Sarah, the family that had surrounded Denver, teaching him, supporting him, loving him. They hadn't just raised a kid; they had raised a Pogue. A Pogue who knew how to hustle, who knew how to read people, who knew how to look out for himself because he'd grown up surrounded by people looking out for each other and teaching him how.

He wasn't sending a lamb to the slaughter. He was sending out a kid who was smart, resilient, and knew how to land on his feet. He had given Denver roots, yes, deep in this OBX sand, but he had also given him wings. And watching those tail lights vanish wasn't losing a part of himself; it was watching that part soar.

A shaky breath escaped him, but this time it wasn't caught in panic. It was a slow release, letting go of the tight knot of fear that had been lodged in his chest. He lowered his hand finally, turning back towards his friends. The bright, blinking eyes were still there, but the frantic edge was softer.

"He's... he's ready," JJ said, his voice a little rough, but firm. "We... we raised him right."

Kiara stepped forward, her eyes soft, and put a hand on his arm. Sarah nodded, a small, understanding smile on her face. Pope just stood quietly, a comforting, solid presence.

JJ looked at them, his family. They had done this together. They had given Denver the best possible start. He wasn't just sending Denver out into the world alone; he was sending out their legacy, a piece of their love, a testament to their strength.

He wouldn't stop worrying entirely – that was just built into his DNA, part of being JJ. But the suffocating, paralyzing fear had subsided. It was replaced by something quieter, a deep-seated trust. Trust in Denver, trust in the foundation they had built, trust in the fact that no matter where he was, Denver carried a piece of the Outer Banks, and a piece of them, with him. He would be safe because they had taught him how to be safe, and because he had learned to be strong on his own.

JJ finally managed a small, genuine smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes but held a flicker of peace. "Right," he said, a little louder, clapping his hands together lightly. "So, who owes who a beer?"

The familiar, slightly absurd question, the shift back to their Pogue rhythm, hung in the air. It wasn't forgetting or moving on too quickly. It was acceptance. It was knowing that life continued, and the core of their family, whether together or miles apart, remained unbroken. Denver was gone, but he was also exactly where he was meant to be. And JJ, for the first time, truly believed he would be okay.

[awritessomething]

I have absolutely no ideas for writing whatsoever pleaseplease leave requests!!! Smut, angst, fluff, whatever y’all want I can probably do.

Ill write for these people and probably more that I forgot (all male character x fem!reader) :

Formula 1:

Max Verstappen

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Carlos Sainz

Daniel Riccardo

Mick Schumacher

Franco Colapinto

Liam Lawson

Ollie Bearman

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes

Tony Stark

Thor

Deadpool

Steve Rogers

Spiderman (Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield, Miguel O'hara)

Harry Osborn (James Franco)

Wolverine (X-Men movies)

Cyclops (X-Men movies)

Charles Xavier (James McAvoy)

Call of Duty

Keegan Russ

Simon "Ghost" Riley

König

Phillip Graves

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Star Wars:

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Outer Banks: (pls no spoilers s4 hasnt been watched yet)

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

Topper Thornton

John B. Routledge

Ward Cameron

Harry Potter:

Harry Potter

Cedric Diggory

Draco malfoy

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Regulus Black

Severus Snape

Tom Riddle

Sirius Black

Lorenzo Berkshire

Oliver Wood

The Walking Dead:

Glenn Rhee

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Negan Smith

Sports:

Joao Felix

Jude Bellingham

Brock Purdy

Joe Burrow

Leon Draisaitl

Jack Hughes

Vince Dunn

Mitch Marner

Connor Bedard

Wayne Gretzky (young)

Miscallaneous:

Jack Champion (Ethan Landry)

Patrick Bateman

Batman (Christian Bale)

Johnathan Crane

Finnick Odair

Josh Hutcherson (Peeta Mellark, Mike Schmidt, Sean Anderson, Clapton Davis)

Rodrick Heffley

Tristan Dugray

Dylan O'brien

Bellamy Blake

Patrick Dempsey (Derek Shepherd, Ronald Miller)

Joe Goldberg

Timothee Chalamet (Wonka, Paul Atreides)

Minho (The Maze Runner)

Keanu Reeves (John Wick, Neo, Alex Wyler, Dr. Beckham, Julian Mercer, Ted Logan)

Jim Halpert

Farkas/Vilkas

Ulfric Stormcloak

Miraak

Ben Schnetzer (Max Vandenburg, Brad Land, Russ Sheppard)

Ralph Macchio (Daniel Larusso, Johnny Cade)

Dallas Winston

Sodapop Curtis

Robby Keene

Zuko (atla dallas liu)

Jet (atla sebastian amoruso)

Cillian Murphy (Johnathan crane, jackson rippner, Neil Lewis)

Evan Peters (all ahs characters, Luke cooper)

James Franco (Laird Mayhew, Harry Osborn, all characters)

What I wont do:

Pedophilia

Beastiality or anything animal-y

Waterworks

Male reader (sorry)

Character x character

Threesomes or anything not 1x1

Character x oc

Specific body types (i just don’t see the point)

Daddy/mommy kinks

Incest or stepcest

(I’ll prob have to add on but its midnight rn)

[snacho-to-ur-nacho]

sometimes i think about how alexander hamilton was the grandson of this dude named alexander hamilton who was a scottish laird with a castle and all

and basically all of alrxander hamilton (the grandfather)'s chidlren didnt really rise up that well, especially james hamilton who was poor and struggling despite being a sort of prince

and i just imagine alexander senior writing to alexander junior once he heard how much alexander worked and rose up like 'u are the only person in this family who is not a fucking disappointment'

[whencyclopedia]

Alexander Hamilton

Alexander Hamilton (1755/57-1804) was a lawyer and politician, often recognized as a Founding Father of the United States. He served as George Washington's aide-de-camp during the American Revolution, before going on to become the first US secretary of the treasury and a leader of the Federalist Party. He was mortally wounded in a duel with Aaron Burr in July 1804.

Early Life

Alexander Hamilton was born on the small island of Nevis in the British West Indies on 11 January 1755 or 1757; most modern scholars favor 1755 as his birth year, based on the discovery of a 1768 probate paper that listed his age as 13. He and his older brother, James, Jr., were born out of wedlock to James Hamilton, the wayward younger son of a Scottish laird, and Rachel Faucette Lavien, a married woman who had abandoned her husband after years of unhappy marriage. The couple lived together for several years until 1765, when James Hamilton abruptly deserted his family, either because he had run out of money or because he knew his continued presence would leave the still-married Rachel vulnerable to charges of bigamy. In any case, Rachel was left destitute. To provide for her sons, she opened a modest shop on St. Croix, purchasing her merchandise from her landlord. In early 1768, both Rachel and Alexander contracted yellow fever; while the boy soon recovered, the mother succumbed to the disease on 19 February.

The orphaned Hamilton brothers were sent to live with a cousin, Peter Lytton, but this situation would end after only a year when Lytton committed suicide. The brothers were then split up; James, Jr., was apprenticed to a carpenter, while Alexander found work clerking for the merchant house of Beekman and Cruger. Still only a teenager, Hamilton excelled at his various tasks, which included tracking cargo, helping to chart courses for ships, and calculating prices in multiple currencies. In 1771, he was even left in charge of the firm for five months while the owner was away. Hamilton was a voracious reader who aspired to write works of his own and penned several poems in the early 1770s. In the autumn of 1772, he wrote a letter to his father in which he detailed a hurricane that had recently devastated St. Croix. The letter found its way into publication in a local paper, the Royal Danish-American Gazette, leaving readers dazzled with its vivid and bombastic descriptions:

It seemed as if a total dissolution of nature was taking place. The roaring of the sea and wind, fiery meteors flying about it in the air, the prodigious glare of almost perpetual lightning, the crash of falling houses, and the ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed, were sufficient to strike astonishment into the angels.

(quoted in Chernow, 37)

This essay would prove to be one of the most consequential of Hamilton's life; upon learning that its author was only 17, local community leaders pooled their funds to send the promising young man to college in North America. He landed in Boston in October 1772, before going on to New York City, where he would enroll in King's College (present-day Columbia University) the following year. Hamilton was insatiably ambitious and dove into his studies, which included a classical curriculum of Greek and Latin as well as rhetoric, history, mathematics, and science. His academic career would soon be interrupted, however, by the rising tensions between Great Britain and the Thirteen Colonies over the question of American liberties, particularly that of taxation without representation. Hamilton became swept up in the Whig (or Patriot) movement, writing a series of anonymous pamphlets in which he defended the Boston Tea Party, supported the actions of the First Continental Congress, and condemned Parliament's Intolerable Acts. He opposed the mob violence often displayed by fellow Patriots; on 10 May 1775, he saved the college's Loyalist president, Myles Cooper, from an angry mob by speaking to the crowd long enough to allow Cooper to escape.

Continue reading...

[scotianostra]

On July 30th 1547 those responsible for the murder of Cardinal David Beaton surrendered St Andrews Castle to French forces.

The siege of St Andrews was one of the defining events in the early struggles to bring the reformation to Scotland.

It was in 1546 that the castle was under siege, after the dramatic murder of Cardinal James Beaton who had been stabbed then hung naked from the castle walls. He had made many enemies during the reformation, one of the most turbulent periods of Scotland’s past, and his execution of the prominent and charismatic Protestant preacher George Wishart, gave these men the perfect excuse to move against him. His murderers, a group of mainly Fife lairds, occupied the castle afterwards and were supported in their actions by the English.

Scotland’s Regent, James Hamilton, 2nd Earl of Arran, ordered his troops to re-take the castle, capture the intruders and regain control of the wayward castle. The siege was to last more than a year, but in November 1546 the French ambassador reported that the besiegers were digging a mine beneath the castle walls in an attempt to undermine and collapse the huge fore tower. The defenders were simultaneously countermining in a desperate attempt to prevent this from ever occurring.

There were two unsuccessful attempts to intercept the mine, located in the rooms now found off the entrance to the castle. It was not easy to work out where the attackers were coming from when you just had the disorientating noise coming through solid rock. They were eventually abandoned and a third shaft was dug to the east of the fore tower.

The first tunnel was inaccurate, swinging too far to the east, and they had to divert the tunnel again to get back towards the mine. They broke through eventually, and were able to repel the besiegers. Afterwards, the mine and it’s countermine were filled in to prevent them ever being used again until they were discovered during building work in 1879. The entrance to the mine can be seen on the far side of the road beside the castle, covered by a manhole cover.

The mine itself is a spacious corridor where one can comfortably stand upright, and it is wide enough to enable pack animals to assist with the removal of the mined rock. It features carved steps, and it is quite easy to traverse. By contrast, the countermine is narrow, twisted and at times you almost must almost crawl to get through, showing the desperation of the defenders as they worked to head off the attack as soon as possible.

The siegers? Well remarkably their lives were spared, some were imprisoned in France while others, including Knox, were condemned to the galleys.

Pics are the castle ruins and the counter mine.

There's a much more in depth article on the siege here over two pages https://tudortimes.co.uk/military-warfare/siege-of-st-andrews

[bantarleton]

The Battle of Langside

Fought on May 13th, 1568, the battle of Langside was fought just south of Glasgow, Scotland, between forces loyal to Mary, Queen of Scots, and forces acting in the name of her infant son James VI. Mary’s short period of personal rule ended in 1567 in recrimination, intrigue, and disaster when, after her capture at Carberry Hill, she was forced to abdicate in favour of James VI. Mary was imprisoned in Lochleven Castle, while her Protestant half-brother, James Stewart, Earl of Moray, was appointed Regent on behalf of his nephew. In early May 1568 Mary escaped, heading west to the country of the Hamiltons, high among her remaining supporters, and the safety of Dumbarton Castle with the determination to restore her rights as queen.

It was Mary's intention to avoid battle if possible, retiring instead to Dumbarton Castle, still held for her by John Fleming, 5th Lord Fleming. Here she would be in a virtually impregnable position, well placed to receive the expected reinforcements from the north, and then recover her hold over the country by degrees. With the intention of by-passing Moray she marched to Rutherglen Castle meeting loyal supporters and then on a wide circuit past Glasgow, intending to move by way of Langside, Crookston, and Paisley back towards the River Clyde, and then on to Dumbarton on the north side of the Clyde estuary.

Moray drew up his army on the moor close to the village of Langside, then several miles south of Glasgow but now well within the city. Kirkcaldy, observed that Mary's force was keeping to the south of the River Cart, the Regent's army being on the opposite bank. He ordered hackbutters (musketeers), mounted behind each of his horsemen, to cross the river. They took up positions among the cottages, hedges, and gardens of the village, on each side of a narrow lane, through which Mary's army must defile. Meanwhile Moray continued to deploy the rest of the army, the vanguard under the command of the Earl of Morton leading the march across a nearby bridge. The whole army then deployed the right around the village. No sooner was this complete than the Queen's vanguard, commanded by Lord Hamilton, began its advance through the village. The battle was now under way.

Mary's army was commanded by Argyll, who was to show little in the way of real military skill, seemingly hoping simply to push Moray aside by sheer force of numbers. George Buchanan wrote that Argyll fainted at one point, though this is almost certainly a rumour spread by his enemies. With her army now engaged, the Queen stood half a mile distance to the rear, close to Cathcart Castle on a mound since named as the Court Knowe. As Hamilton attempted to force a passage through Langside he was met by close fire from Grange's hackbutters. Many in the front ranks were killed, throwing the remainder back on those following, and adding to the general confusion. Hamilton pushed on, finally reaching the top of a hill, only to find the main enemy army drawn up in good order. Morton with the border pikemen advanced to intercept Mary's vanguard. Both sides now met in 'push of pike'. According to James Melville of Halhill the forest of inter-locked spears was now so thick that staves and discharged pistols thrown at the enemy simply rested on the shafts rather than falling to the ground.

Grange, whom Moray had allowed considerable leeway, continued to act with courage and distinction. According to James Melville, "the Regent committed unto the laird of Grange, the special care, as an experienced captain, to oversee every danger, to ride to every wing and encourage and make help where the greatest height was". The battle was now at its height and the outcome still doubtful, until Grange saw that the right wing of the Regent's army – consisting of the barons of Renfrewshire – was beginning to lose ground. He immediately galloped to the main battalion and brought reinforcements. This was done so effectively, and the counter-attack pressed with such force, that it broke the enemy ranks. Moray, who hitherto had stood on the defensive, repulsing Mary's cavalry, now charged at the main enemy battalion, the fight now joined all along the line. The Queen's men crumbled, the fugitives being closely pursued by a party of Highlanders. The Battle of Langside, which had lasted for some forty-five minutes, was over.

Langside was a colossal defeat for Mary. Only one of Moray's men was killed, whereas over 100 of Mary's men were lost, a figure that almost certainly would have been much higher but for Moray's decision to avoid further bloodshed by ordering a halt to the pursuit. Over 300 of Mary's men were taken prisoner, including Lord Seton and Sir James Hamilton and many of his followers. Mary and her escort rode off, first trying to reach Dumbarton Castle, but then turning south, eventually arriving at Dundrennan Abbey. From here she left for England, never to see Scotland again.

Mary crossed the Solway Firth to Workington on 16 May 1568 at night with twenty companions. This unexpected event provoked a dispute amongst the English border officials. She stayed her first night at the house of Heny Curwen.[ On the next day she moved to Cockermouth and was greeted by Richard Lowther, the deputy of Lord Scrope at Carlisle Castle. Lowther escorted Mary to Carlisle on 18 May. Meanwhile, the Earl of Northumberland who was at Topcliffe heard the news from Workington, which was in his jurisdiction. The Earl obtained a letter of authority from the Council of the North at York to be the Scottish Queen's host and to "let none of them escape." When the Earl arrived at Carlisle on 22 May, Richard Lowther defied him, and the Vice-Chamberlain of England, Francis Knollys, upheld Lowther's actions.

Over the next five years Mary's supporters in Scotland continued a civil war with the Regents of Scotland.

[carpethedamndiemdejavu]

"All the people I know who have been bitten by sharks are less afraid of sharks now. Every one of them. I think they imagined being attacked by a shark would be so much worse than it actually was." - Laird Hamilton

[schoonheid-1229]

Laird Hamilton

[learndirt]

🌱 “Nature is the greatest place to heal and recharge.” —Laird Hamilton

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Desi Arnaz, Benedict of Nursia, Moe Berg, Ed Bournemann, Dale Bozzio, Larry Carlton, Karen Carpenter, John Cowsill, Daniel Craig, John Cullum, Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis, Maxwell Street, Jimmy Davis, Becky G, Rory Gallagher, John Gardner, Mikhail Gorbachev, Laird Hamilton, Sam Houston, Bryce Dallas Howard, John Irving, Jennifer Jones, Léon Jongen, Jon Bon Jovi, Orrin Keepnews, the 1933 film KING KONG, Papa Lightfoot, BarBara Luna, Madonna’s 1989 single “Like a Prayer,” Chris Martin, Gates McFadden, drummer-producer Tony Meehan (The Shadows), Method Man, Wolfgang Muthspiel, Lauraine Newman, Jay Osmond, Ethan Peck, Elvis Presley’s 1956 single “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” Luke Pritchard (The Kooks), Dottie Rambo, Red Saunders, Dennis Seaton (Musical Youth), Shostakovich’s 14th Symphony (1969), Bedřich Smetana, the 1995 musical SMOKY JOE’S CAFÉ, Ludovico Spontoni, the 1965 film SOUND OF MUSIC, composer-trumpeter Derek Watkins (James Bond films), Kurt Weill, Tom Wolfe, "Théo" Ysaÿe, and the creative provocateur, poet, and singer-songwriter Lou Reed. He was the principal songwriter for The Velvet Underground and his solo career spanned 5 decades. 

Velvet Underground were not commercially successful but are now regarded as one of the most influential bands in the history of rock. Brian Eno said that everyone who heard the first VU album wanted to start a band. Reed had a deadpan voice that, for me, required forgiveness as singers go (though he did step up on occasion, particularly when he sung with The Blind Boys on THE RAVEN album). Eventually I connected with his noir fiction, transgressive “eyewitness reporting” lyrics and songcraft. He neither approved or disapproved of the subjects he sang about and, in the end, he just wanted to write catchy rock’n’roll. Over the years I’ve performed at least 6 Reed/VU songs—recording 2: “What Goes On” and “Sunday Morning,” on which I was joined by members of The Badlees (who did a splendid job in one afternoon). Reed himself commended our cover and promoted it on his website in the mid-90s. HB and RIP Lou.

#loureed #velvetunderground #sundaymorning #singersongwriter #bretalexander #thebadlees #blindboysofalabama #raven #edgarallenpoe #noirfiction #poet #guitarist #eyewitnessreport #johnnyjblair #singeratlarge #birthday

[kaiyves-backup]

Since there’s now a whole book about how easy it is to confuse Naomi Klein/Wolf, here are some other people whose similar names always confuse me:

Eugenie Scott/Clark: One is a shark biologist, one is on the board of Skeptical Inquirer?

David/Larry Niven: One is an actor, one is a writer?

David/John Byrne: One is a musician, one is a comic book writer?

Laird/Lewis Hamilton: One is a race car driver, one is a surfer?

A. O. Scott/E. O. Wilson: One is a biologist, one is a film critic?

Thora/Tory Burch/Bruno: One is an actor, the other one is… also an actor? And the last one is in charge of United Launch Alliance? There may also be a similarly named “Tori” somewhere in the mix?