#The Lady from Burma

[shamelessislamreligionhorse]

A three-day grand event is being organized in commemoration of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj Ji's 73rd incarnation day, from September 6th to 8th, 2023

[living400lbs]

“Do you suppose Oxford University could be behind it? They’re next in line for the money if they could get [the husband] blamed for the murder.”

“As a Cambridge girl, I am honour bound to believe Oxford capable of everything that is evil,” said Sparks. “But it sounds like a stretch."

From The Lady From Burma by Allison Montclair

[jolieeason]

The Lady from Burma (Sparks & Bainbridge: Book 5) by Allison Montclair

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press, Minotaur Books Date of publication: July 25th, 2023 Genre: Mystery, Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical Mystery, Historical, British Literature Series: Sparks & Bainbridge The Right Sort of Man—Book 1 A Royal Affair—Book 2 The Haunting of the Desks: A Sparks and Bainbridge Short Story—Book 2.5 A Rogue’s Company—Book 3 The Unkept Woman—Book 4 The Lady…

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Natalie Wood (West Side Story, The Great Race)—She went through so much shit which I know can be said for all these women but Natalie really was a star and her death often overshadows her career and life. She could make you cry, but she also had the capacity to be incredibly funny which I think is lost on people.

Helen (Howrah Bridge, China Town, Teesri Manzil)— Helen might be stretching the definition of "star" a little bit as she was a dancer rather than a leading lady, but her Hotness is absolutely unassailable. She choreographed her own dances, designed her own costumes, overall has a mind-bogglingly wild life story, and survived it all to turn 85 in November. I ADORE her.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Natalie Wood:

Helen propaganda:

"Was not technically a leading lady, but played the sexy roles good girls couldn't play, before dying so the hero could marry the good girl. BOLLYWOOD ICON also survived the Japanese invasion of Burma by walking from Rangoon to Assam aged four or five but this is less related to her hotness"

[patrickleger]

Cover for The Lady From Burma for Macmillan

[maxwell-grant]

whats the deal with Doc Savage?

"He's a doctor, okay, but what's so savage about him? That he goes in public without a shirt? Y'know, he's got a caveman in his group and everything, and that guy is a chemist who runs around doing monkey flips and beating bad guys with his bare hands. Why don't they call him Doc Savage? He’s doing more to deserve the name.”

“Everytime it’s something weird and horrifying happening that only he is able to solve. And it's always some guy running a con at the end. Everytime Savage rolls into town, it's like opposite world when it's the doctor who has to save people from being scammed, instead of the other way around.

"I'm just saying, nobody's that perfect. He goes around with guns shooting people with what he calls "mercy bullets" that only put bad guys to sleep. Yeah, they go to sleep allright, and if that fails, I'm sure the compassion grenades do the trick.

"You're saying they rejected your application for the Fabulous Five? That's nuts." "Blew me out the front door, I tell you! Total insanity. Newman was there, he saw the whole thing." "No, what's insane is that you thought you had a shot in the first place. Nobody "joins" the Fabulous Five, it's like the most elite group in the country. What did you think you were adding there?" "Jerry, how hard can it be to play sidekick to that guy? He does everything they do better, I'd just have to sit around playing cheerleader and wait for him to save the day, I already do the first part all day around you. It's the perfect job! What, you think you're too good for it?" "No, but I have a little something called self-esteem. It's the Fabulous Five, George, not the Fabulous Plus Extra. They already made room for that girl cousin of his, they're not making extra for you." "Maybe, shmaybe. Unless I got that Tom guy fired. I mean, he looks like he's on his way out the door as is. "Electrical wizard", pssht, I could do that." "Sure you could. I mean hey, why don't you ask Elaine to set up you two? She got to meet Doc himself last weekend." "No way." "I'm serious! Apparently Doc saved Peterman's life during a mission in Burma and they'd kept in touch since then, and she got some kind of date with him out of it."

"He was a no show?" "Oh, he is all show allright." "So you two -" "No! I mean, I got to see him in action a couple of times and, yeah, I tried. But every date with him was a wash, he always needs to cut things off halfway to go fight some supervillain, and then he never calls back. He barely even looks at me when we're IN the date." "Well he's Doc Savage. He's like Superman, y'know, he's got places to be and people to save. "Yeah, and who's gonna save me? I swear Jerry, it's like he's never even seen a woman before. Him and those five morons around him, bunch of misogynists. Whatever, he's hot, but I'm over him. Miss Savage no more." "I'll bet. Hey, what's this?" "Oh it's from the fitness spa I'd been going near work. There's this girl I'd been talking to lately ever since Peterman assigned me the Hidalgo Trading Company catalogue, she's been giving me the skinny on Doc and his frat boy clubhouse "Oh?" "Yeah she's big, like, really big, really smart too. She's got a yacht, even. Apparently she does a lot of traveling. Anyway, she's this fitness freak with a great tan and bronze hair and, big muscles, and she's got these beautiful gold eyes and-" "And you're saying all that because you think I'd be into her?" "Huh? You? Oh, pfft, no, she's way too much for you." "I'll bet. And, uh, what's her name again?" "Oh everyone at the club just calls her Pat. Mystery lady. I'm meeting her down at her yacht next week." "Yeah. Miss Savage no more, huh."

(SLAM) (audience cheers)

"Hey, how did things go at the Crime College?" "Oh it-it-it was a NIGHTMARE! It-itya it's like waterboarding at Guantanamo Bay, Jerry! Way less fun than it sounds!! I'd heard the name on the street and signed up to learn how to fight crime, nobody told me what it was actually about! "What happened?" "Well, at first it was kinda nice, actually. You sign up at the Hidalgo Trading Company lobby, and they ask you to submit your criminal record. I figured, hey, safest place to leave it, right? You meet some of his assistants and everything, and when they hooked the eletrodes to my brain I thought hey, *click* free brain massage along with crimefighting lessons for free!" "Wait Kramer back up, electrodes?"

----

"Allright so if I get this straight: You signed up for a program Doc Savage's running that nobody knows about called the Crime College, thinking it was gonna teach how to fight crime. You get in there and it's some kind of nuthouse where Doc Savage tries to pry open your brain with a drill." "A-yup." "And he's lobotomozing criminals all over town because he's running a program where he, what, carves their brain to make them stop being evil and gives them new identities outside of town." "Ye-yup." "And they never remember who they used to be? They never come back, not ever, they just become model citizens as far away from here as possible? Are you 100% sure it actually works?" "So they said, yeah." "...Hey pass me the phone for a minute, will ya-"

"Hey Newman, I heard from Elaine that the Hidalgo Trading Company is hiring now."

[fishnets-fingers]

Underneath the Stars

“So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs.

 “You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of not drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n -  i wrote so much. so, i’ve decided to split it into two parts. i made a banner for forbidden hours and it took me a lot longer than anticipated but i think it tured out great. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 6.2k (not proofread) 

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

….

நீள்பயணம். Voyage. News had spread far and wide across the expanse of the empire about the Princess’ journey far East. Throngs of people gathered on the docks to bid farewell to her and scream out wishes of luck and fortune. It was a busy day, filled with fanfare from the subjects, priests blessing the vessel and ministers of court spewing out strategies whilst handing bundles of parchment of the meticulously crafted plans. 

A journey always stirred up feelings of unbridled joy, especially since the aim of this particular voyage is to draw up a treaty with Handuman - three small islands that lie smack in the middle of a crucial trade route between the Cholas and Burmese. A tiny island kingdom that was a thorn on Y/N’s side for the past year; with news of shipment from Burma being pillaged and sabotaged at sea constantly thwarting her plans of bringing components of machinery to assemble aiding with agriculture. She put together a counsel which oversaw striking a peaceful agreement that would mutually benefit both nations, a long drawn process of negotiations with a vacillating King that finally culminated to this day.

A day where she set sail on a three week journey to visit the islands, attend a ball hosted in her honour, and cap it off with signing the treaty. Needless to say the kingdom was ecstatic with the promise of the Princess Royal bringing more riches into the land. All of Y/N’s voyages to neighbouring kingdoms resulted in astounding successes, so people did have a shred of doubt that this one would go south. At the break of dawn, the majestic vessel was filled with her entourage - guards, a trade minister, the guard captain who was responsible for her safety, the sail crew, two of her handmaidens, and her lady-in-waiting, Shobhita.

Shobhita has been by Y/N’s side since they were partnered together for dance lessons fifteen years ago. As kids, Y/N took it upon herself to teach her how to conduct herself properly in court. Despite not liking the bossy Princess Royal, things took a turn for Shobhita when some children of nobility made fun of her lineage - going so far as to calling her ‘murky blood.’ She had light blue irises and hair the colour of sticky toffee - resembling her overseas mother, far different from what everyone else looked like and that made her an easy target. Though Y/N was not around for the name calling, she personally gave the other kids a stern talking, going so far as shoving one them and getting confined to her quarters by the Queen Mother. The two have been thick as thieves ever since. 

“Remember Y/N, you are representing our Dynasty from the second you dock there until you set sail,” the Queen Mother starts. 

“I know. I know, grandmum. Best behaviour and all,” Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“You know better than to roll your eyes at me?!?” The older woman narrows her eyes in warning. 

“Have I not conducted myself well on my trips so far?”

“I’m not saying that you haven’t, but be wary. I’ve heard nothing but vile things about the Prince of Handuman. I’ve seen to it that your guards have been doubled.”

“Is that why I’m going there alone without any advisors? You know I can take care of myself-“

“I know you can,” the Queen Mother interrupts her. “Keep an eye out on all our girls.” She whispers, taking her palm in her hands and gives it a warm squeeze, before walking towards the chief. 

When she gets a minute to herself, Y/N turns away from the enthusiastic crowd, gripping on to a wooden mast, she closes her eyes, picturing her garden. The patch of flowering shrub - right by her reading bench - which attracted the prettiest of blue butterflies. She feels the tightness in her shoulders ebb away, only to have it disrupted when she feels someone pull on her braid. She flicks her head around in annoyance to find her little brother sheepishly looking at her. 

“What do you want?”

“You’re sleeping standing up,” Karthi notes. 

“I was not. I was trying to relax,” she sighs. 

“I’m sure that the vast blue of the water is relaxing enough. Never knowing what’s under the thousands of leagues under the sea. Maybe there’s a giant fish with razor sharp teeth as long as the mountains waiting to capsize the boat. Shame, won’t even know it’s coming in the dark of the night with nothing but pitch black in the horizon-“

“Shut up, Karthi!”

“Calm down,” he throws his hands over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “You really think Dad is gonna let that happen to his favourite child. There’s no way this voyage was approved by him without contingencies for every single thing that could go wrong. He’s not gonna let the people’s Princess get lost at sea.”

“I appreciate you trying but it’s not helping. Why are you still here anyway? Didn’t Dad want you at the capital yesterday?”

“It can wait,” he shrugs it off. “I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye to my favourite sister.” He bends down to engulf his big sister in a hug. 

“I’m your only sister,” she chuckles, swatting him away. “In other words you hung around for morsels of attention from Shobhita.”

“Give me some credit!” He says feigning being wounded. “I brushed my hand against her arm,” he whispers, pointing to his left palm. 

Y/N shakes her head at the smirk that tugged at the corner of her little brother’s lips. They’ve had a crush on each other from when they were both old enough to understand what that meant. Being the daughter of a vassal king, who happened to be close friends with her father, it was agreed upon by the elders that Shobhita and Karthi were to wed. Though Shobhita was a Princess of a small hilly region in the dynasty, it was thought best by the parents to have her grow up in the palace and serve with Y/N as her lady-in-waiting to learn the ropes of handing the responsibilities that would fall on her shoulders once she married. 

Right as Y/N was going to say something witty, their attention was pulled to the commotion at the gangplank. When Y/N peers over she sees Harry hold up his royal seal to the guards before lugging up his things. 

“What’s he doing here?” Y/N asks her grandmother, but finds the Queen Mother cluelessly staring at her grandchildren. 

“Your majesties,” Harry bows, and wordlessly hands the Queen Mother’s guard the parchment before it’s passed to the old woman. 

His eyes flit over to Y/N with a small smile tugging but he finds her pointedly staring over his shoulder with a scowl. He frowns, did she forget our time at the docks? The last time he saw her was filled with fiery passionate kisses and sweet nothings. He didn’t expect the Princess Royal to throw herself at him in front of everyone but was he not warranted a polite smile. 

“It’s from your brother,” the Queen Mother tells the siblings. “Looks like Harry over here would also be travelling with you.”

“What? Why?” Y/N asks, dreading the thought of being locked in close quarters with the spy. 

“He wants Harry to accompany you and be added to oversee your guard detail along with the chief.”

“But that makes no sense, he’s hardly a guard,” she protests. 

“That’s quite true, Princess but I do know a thing or two about fighting. The Crown Prince wants you to be protected, that-“

“I do not require your protection, Mister Styles,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“The Crown Prince has spoken. His reasons are clear,” the Queen Mother tells Y/N firmly, handing her the parchment. “Harry Styles will be accompanying you.”

////

The texts spoke of the majestic wonders of the sea in all its boundless beauty, sailors talked about the vast bodies of water being their companion; the sea was glorified by almost everyone Y/N had met and even by herself - she’d allow herself to stand at the edge of the shoreline and daydream about what life on the other side of the water looked like. There was immeasurable poetry that was either written at sea or took place at sea, but what none of them talked about was what it did to your psyche. Four days of constantly bobbing about the tides, with nothing around but endless blue and a blanket of darkness at nightfall, not to mention the terrifying sounds that accompanied no visibility. She missed the feel of the earth beneath her feet, the smell of her freshly watered gardens, the buzz of bees, birdsong, the vivid colours of her flowers against the green.

She brushed them aside as champagne problems for the first two days but the confines of close quarters were slowly creeping up on her. It didn’t help that she was avoiding Harry on top of all this, so she’d holed herself up in her room with Shobhita working on a project for the gala that’s being thrown in her honour. That’s how she found herself standing at the stern, hands clasped firmly on the wooden banister, at an odd hour in the night. She had her eyes closed, not that it made much of a difference in pitch darkness as she felt the wind against her face. It was eerily quiet, yet noisy as the vessel zipped through the tides, and everytime she flicked her eyes open she would only stare into the vast expanse of the hazy abyss. An insidious fear crept in which made her bones tremble about the nightmarish creatures that would leap out from the water at any moment.

“Careful there, Princess, any more harder and you might splinter the wood,” Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, the teasing apparent in the undercurrent of his tone.

She blinks down at her the way her knuckles have gone pale from gripping onto the wood. Sighing she turns her head to the side, to catch a sweet smile painted on his face as he bows spitting out the formalities. 

“Mister Styles,” she acknowledges him halfheartedly, turning her attention back to the abyss.

“Trouble sleeping?” He enquires, stepping forward but the guard captain steps out from the shadow, directly in front of him, blocking his path. Harry throws his arms up, pausing. “I don’t mean any trouble, Captain.”

“You may not approach her royal highness,” he warns, the captain towers over Harry.

“It’s alright, Captain. He may step closer,” Y/N says.

“Princess, no man is allowed in your vicinity without a chaperone,” the Captain reminds her, and it doesn’t escape Y/N, the way he flexes his mammoth muscles to intimidate the spy. 

“He is no ordinary man, remember. The Crown Prince has instated him to oversee my guard detail,” she points out. “I think it is time he took over the watch. I have kept you up for three nights now, and it’s high time you get some sleep. You may retire to your cabin for the night, Captain.” She smiles, wordlessly thanking him for being diligent enough to follow her each night.

He nods, muttering something to Harry as he hands over his spear to him. He bids Y/N goodnight and disappears down to his cabin.

“Whew,” Harry breathes out in relief. “Thought I’d be tossed overboard. Thanks for the save.” He mutters, making his way to the banister, leaving a comfortable distance between the two in case the Captain decides to check in on him.

“Don’t go thanking your lucky stars yet, I can certainly see to it that it’s arranged,” she bites back at him.

“You’re angry with me,” he states, making her chuckle.

“Wonder what gave that away,” she mutters, directing an eye roll at him.

He ignores her retort and continues, “You’ve been avoiding me since the minute I came on board.”

“That’s two for two. Gee for a spy, you sure do have a knack for picking up on the fucking obvious,” she shakes her head. 

“I don’t understa-”

“Of course you don’t,” she huffs out a weak chuckle. “Apologies start with an I’m sorry.”

“Princess-” he starts, running his hand through his locks. “Y/N, I don’t understand why you’re cross with me. Is it because I’m sailing with you unannounced?”

“God, you’re thick,” she lets out a weak chuckle. “A storm hit the coast two days after you set sail to Lanka, Harry. I didn’t know for weeks if Karthi got the message on time!”

“I’m a good spy, am I not? When have I ever faltered in keeping to your word? Prince Karthi reached the Port Palace two weeks ago, according to your word, did he not?”

“That’s not the point, you idiot!” She turns to face him. “I did not hear from you! I did not know if you made it there. For three whole months! I didn’t know what to think.”

“Oh.” His face reddens as warmth spreads across his chest. He doesn’t understand why but he feels his face split into a wide grin as he replies, “I was doing my job and protocol states that - .”

“And you rode off to Vikram up north,” her tone was still accusatory.

“I had to, Y/N.”

“Why? Why did you have to get to him with such urgency? Was it Karthi’s orders? Why was it so important that you come with me all this way? Don’t give me all that poppycock about me needing extra security. My brother and I trust the captain with our lives. He’s overseen our protection since we were children.”

“Vikram’s mingled with the close friend of the Prince of Handuman. He’s foul, according to his best friend’s admission. He hits women and beds them without consent. He has complete disregard for matters of the court and he is well known for schmoozing -”

“Why does that even matter?” 

Harry lets out a frustrated groan, “Will you please just listen to me.” He continues when Y/N quietens down. “The royal astrologer had seen to it that your portraits were sent to all neighbouring kingdoms - under your father’s orders - for matrimony. Prince Vinay had come across it when you were liaising with them for the trade deal. He, um, publicly vowed to…”

“Vowed to what?” She implores when he trails off.

“I’m sorry for being crude but he said that he wanted to ‘tear off your clothes, pin you against his throne and thrust some obedience into you while the court watches.’” He takes in a long breath before he continues, “So you will be under his pinkie and he can boast that the great Chola Princess was another notch on his bedpost.”

Y/N’s face twists in disgust as she processes what Harry had just shared with her. “Vikram knows I can handle myself around such odious men. I have more protection during this trip than I ever had in my life. Why did he send you to supervise my security? You have no experience…”

“It was my idea actually. I asked him to sign that decree to let me join this company and this was the only way to not raise any eyebrows among our men. I know you can handle yourself around the Handuman Prince, but I would not forgive myself if something were to happen to you…” He pauses, eyes roaming around for any lurking shadows, what comes next is communicated in a murmur, “This could provide a perfect cover for a Chola spy to be digging around Handuman.”

“A cover for what?” Her eyebrows scrunch, mouth twisting down in displeasure of being kept in the dark.

“Too many ears around,” he reminds her. He interjects before she can protest, “You will be the first to know once I have evidence.”

They hear a heavy splash making the ship drag, and the two lurch forward at the sudden movement. Y/N gasps, grabbing hold of the bannister and tightening her grip as a strong hand wraps around her elbow and tries to pull her away. 

Things feel dissonant for her, there’s a ringing in her ears that’s managed to make all other sounds feel like it’s echoing from deep inside a well, she feels her body spasm as she struggles to draw in breaths, like her throat has something blocking the way. Her vision fades around the edges making her scrunch her eyes shut, but that only makes the successive shallow drum of her heart louder. She can feel the way the boat has a pull under her feet, like it was lugging around something heavy as it resists the sway of the vessel. She’s experienced unease before, but this time was different. This uneasiness was not fleeting. It was a type of fear. Fear oozes from the centre of her bones, slowly following its wake across everything it could consume inside her being. Paralysing to her anomalous senses. “I knew it,” she whispers. “Consumed by the waters, of course.”

If this was how she was going to perish, so be it.

“Princess,” his voice is distorted and faint but she picks it up. “Y/N.” It’s louder this time, floating closer. “We’re fine.” She feels his arms tightening around her frame. “Y/N, look at me.”

////

Harry does not understand what’s happening. Once second, he hears the men throw the anchor into the water and the next Y/N’s crumpled over the banister beside him. She looks to be in pain, her face ashen under the silver beam, he tries to tug her back - away from the edge but she’s bolted, hunching over the banister. He tries getting her attention, but can hear her mutter something about being engulfed by the water and it all makes sense to him. Why she was so hesitant to get on his boat when they were at the docks, how uncomfortable she was sitting opposite him, what made her hole up in her quarters all this time, the way she was gripping onto the banister earlier. The ocean petrified her. 

He understands why she was mad for not hearing from him sooner. He left right before a storm hit the coast, showering her in kisses and whispering sweet promises. Promises. Well, promise. He promised to be safe and he did keep up his word, and he left for the battle tents of the Crown Prince, like he normally would when his job was done. But things were not normal. They’d kissed. Several times in fact. And he’d confessed his fondness for her.

He never faltered in his duties, he’d kept them up this time too. He had not realised a duty had implicitly fallen in his shoulders to bear when their lips met. To let her know that he was safe and not taken by the treacherous waters of the stormy seas as she’d let herself imagine. She had been worried about him. He made her worry.

“We’re fine,” he reassures, moving closer to her, holding her close to him. 

It takes him a few tries but he gets her to look at him and a few more to convince her to let go of the banister. Her quivering lips and glassy eyes pierce his heart, but he manages to get her to slump to the floor beside him. It takes her a long while to stop trembling but he tightens her torso to his side, hoping to instill some warmth into her.

“We’re fine now,” he reassures, squeezing her hands. “The men tossed the anchor overboard. That is what made us jerk forward along with the ship. It takes a while for the anchor to latch onto the seabed. They’ve retired to their cabins for the night. It’s just that. It has happened everyday since we boarded the ship. It will keep happening until we reach home. We will sail again just before the break of dawn. Nothing is wrong with the ship. We are not in the way of any harm.” 

She nods as he continues, “I apologise for not letting you know that I had reached Lanka in one piece. I’m sorry for all the worry I have caused you. I never intended to. I promise to never make you fret again.”

“Okay,” she tells him in a quiet voice, closing her eyes, as she forces her shallow shuddering breath to regain its steadiness. 

He looks around once more, making sure that they’re truly alone, before focusing on her blinking back her watery eyes. “Why did you agree to the voyage in the first place?”

“King’s orders,” she tells him softly.

“You’re terrified of the ocean,Y/N ,” he reasons. 

“I have duties, Harry. I get to experience all the luxuries one can imagine, compared to all that-” she shrugs. “Champagne problems, I guess.”

Harry shakes his head, she says king like it wasn’t her father. He would never do something that he didn’t want to, no matter who’s orders. But it was important to the princess in front of him and there was no use trying to challenge that. This was her deal, and it only made sense that she saw it through - she owed her people that. Instead he picks a different route, one that would help him understand her better, “What’s got you this scared? I’ve never seen you like this before.” It’s true. She was the first Chola Princess to be trained in combat alongside her brothers - demanding her father that when it came to the worst, she wanted to defend her people. She did not want to be holed underground with other women of court or in a temple praying for victory. She was an excellent rider, often would compete in races and encouraged young girls to follow suit. 

“I do not wish to say,” she says hesitantly. She leans back and scoots away, her face slowly regaining composure.

“I don’t mean to pry, Princess. I grew up sailing the waters, I understand not wanting to recount a time -”

“It’s not that. I don’t have a harrowing story or anything.” She adds the next part quietly, “It is risible,” and her cheeks heat in response. Harry quickly notes the way she blushes, making him smile down at her in endearment.

“I promise not to laugh. Sailor’s honour,” he crosses over his heart.

Y/N lets out a peeling giggle in response, “You’re no sailor, Harry.”

“Yes, I am! Was practically born on a ship, Y/N.”

“You were born on a ship?” Y/N asks, sometimes it felt like he knew more about her than she did him. 

Harry shakes his head, “Was born in my mother’s cottage in North England.”

“Did you grow up there?”

He shakes his head again, this time quicker with a frown. “No. I grew up on my father’s ship. Back to what we were talking about; you can’t discredit me as a sailor.”

Y/N’s brows scrunch at the sudden pivot in the conversation, but she doesn’t press on further, opting to say, “I thought you were a spy.”

A warmth blossomed in Harry’s chest from the mocking undercurrent of her tone. He’s never had anyone volley a conversation with him, and it came easy with her. “I am more of a ‘Jack of all trades’ kind of person.”

“Ah, I see,” she chuckles, bringing her knees up to her chest and encircling her arms around it. “So a master of none?”

Harry laughs, a high pitched carefree one, “Better than a master of one.”

Companionate silence blankets around the two, Harry passes her his leather water flask - that was clasped to his belt - and she quickly drains it muttering a quiet thank you. Harry leans back on his elbows, looking up at the shimmering moon above, it’s lovely tonight, he thinks. He’s spent many nights in a bobbing vessel with nothing around but the moon as company but he doesn’t feel the familiar solitude tonight. There was no intolerable silence this particular night, just the tinkle of Y/N’s anklet and silent sighs that escapes her lungs. His gaze flits over to her cheek, smushed against her arm, her gaze is fixed on her fingers as they fiddle with the ornament. A simple gold rope with a small lotus motif made from three pink diamonds and an emerald, clasped around her ankle. 

Her foot. That’s what caught his attention, not the precious stones, but the curve of the arch of her bare feet. He wonders if it would tickle when he runs his lips over them, as he slowly nudged her knees apart, the fabric slipping away, the way her anklets would tinkle over his shoulders in sync with his head between her thighs. He shakes his head, rubbing his face, shifting to conceal his hardening cock and shoots her a polite smile.

“Not knowing,” Y/N says. “I do not like the deep waters because I have no idea what’s underneath.”

“No one does, Y/N,” he reminds her.

“I know. It is uncomfortable to not know. It feels like I am at its mercy, with the currents that can drag me under in a split second, if I’m not careful enough. It’s vast, and we have not explored these territories. I met with this woman that studies living creatures, and she believes that there is a high possibility of colossal squids and fishes deep down. There are old sailing accounts and drawings as proof. You have seen giant sharks and whales, have you not?”

Harry nods, as she continues fidgeting with her anklet. 

“Life began in the waters, Harry, and we hardly know a thing about it. We cannot survive diving the depths; we certainly cannot compete with the predators that we know of. Imagine being at mercy of something unknown. It is the biggest mystery known, quite possibly the worst because it takes up much of our planet and we cannot even begin to understand it. The ocean has had a longer time to evolve than us, and we know much of the sky than we do about what is below.” 

Y/N looks up at him, chin resting on her arm, as she waits for a response. She feels a pang of regret opening up to him when she is not met with anything. You expect him to comfort him just because you kissed a few times, a voice rings in her head followed by her grandmother’s lecture of having one’s cards close to your chest. No royal ever spoke of things that frightened them, she never did either. So, why did she think this was a good idea? Her maternal great - grandfather, a Chera king, was thrown into the castle moat filled with crocodiles by his subjects. He was vain and cruel to his people - granted that could have been the reason - but it had been prophesied that he would meet his end by the scaly reptilians, so he rewarded people to poach every last one of them and had them all in his moat. Ironically, he actively participated in furthering his prophecy while trying to avoid it. People would not have picked death by crocodiles if they never knew about his irrational fear. The kingdom was in shambles for many years until the birth of her mother, which enabled them to forge an alliance with the Cholas through matrimony.

 While the Princess was caught in her own dilemma, Harry had a similar one running through his mind. He wants to assure her how secure ships are. He wants to explain how when you’re in the middle of nowhere with dwindling supplies, you start to see and hear things that aren’t really there. He wants to tell her that worrying would do her no good, especially the things that were occupying her mind because they were simply out of her control. All of the things he’d come to learn from his father’s experiences and his own. She was right, they barely knew about the ocean, but it wasn’t something to lose sleep over. But he understands, Harry was also scared of the ocean as a child before he got used to it. This was Y/N’s first time, and fears aren’t supposed to be rational. It wasn’t far-fetched, she had her nose stuck in books for answers and was born into duties, which required she understood the workings of life. She prided herself for being a step ahead of people around her and to do that one needed control. But the moment didn’t call for revelations; she needed solace. 

He gives her a sympathetic smile before going on to say, “I was scared of the endless ocean as a child too, especially at night. You’re right, we don’t know much about the sea but we do know a lot about the sky.

“Look up for me, Princess,” he continues and they both take in the twinkling dots in the blanket of the night. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, beaming up at the gleaming moon. 

“It is. We’re so caught up by things around us, we often forget to look up. The sky's the one thing that will not change. The moon will wax and wane and the stars will stay right where they are, flickering, guiding us to shore. It helped to look up at the sky when I was scared or in trouble. To be reminded that in the grand scheme of things, my fears didn’t matter. For whatever reason, the cosmos flows through me and that would mean my existence is a marvel. Even for a speck - no bigger than a grain of sand on the beach - the sky has many wonders in store for me.”

She stays quiet, her eyes glassing over, blurring her vision. Harry quickly catches the stray tear from the corner of her eyes with the backs of his fingers. He coos, leaning over to brush his lips against her temple, “I apologise for saying something out of line, Y/N.”

“You're not out of line, Harry,” she hastily blinks back her tears. “It helps. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“I want to.”

Anyone else pondering their significance by looking out into the universe might end up feeling helpless, paralysed even, but she feels none of that. She was born into significance and her roles only cemented the burden of upholding the legacy of the Crown. So, letting herself feel like a mere speckle was liberating. 

////

The days that follow the same routine - the Princess holes herself up in her cabin during the day with Shobhita. Harry’s unsure what she was up to - and formulating any judgement from the box of fabric spools one of the handmaidens carted into her room, and the occasional laughs from behind the door - he’s happy she was occupied. It was hard to catch a glimpse of her when the sun was shining; there were guard’s stationed outside at all times and he did not want to tick off the guard captain.

The nights. That solely belongs to the two of them. She would come out of her cabin two hours before midnight to catch some fresh air to find him softly smiling at her. He'd readily stand, at the ship’s bow, with a spear in his hand by the intricately carved wooden swan figurehead. Y/N had ordered the guard captain to retire at night, since he’d been stationed by her cabin all day. When he’d resisted - uncomfortable that the Crown Prince had instated a young man with no prior expertise as head of security- she’d gently reminded him that it was best for Harry to learn what guarding actually entailed in the safe confines of their ship. They’d spend the nights in each other’s companionship, Y/N’s heart swelled with Harry’s stories. Particularly the one of him as a boy, where he was convinced that someone had left a giant bunny up the moon. She looked at him endeared as he pointed out the outline of the rabbit in the dark markings of the full moon. It soothed her, looking up at the heavens with someone made her confining thoughts about the ocean melt away.

This night was no different, the Princess pads to her usual spot to find a blanket spread out with two pillows. Her eyes fly to meet him and he gives her the same smile he did every night, bending down to light the two oil lamps, illuminating the jade of his eyes. “Your highness,” he bows, stepping away.

She nods, shooting him a surprised smirk as she curls up with her book. Harry eyes the old parchment she unfolds, a star catalogue, and he can’t help the chortle that escapes his lips.

“Stop it, Mr. Styles,” Y/N shoots him a warning look, not wanting to draw the attention of the crew.

“I apologise, majesty,” he murmurs, but Y/N notices the mocking smile that paints his lips.

She pointedly ignores him with a roll of her eyes, as she focuses her attention on Aryabhata’s text in front of her. Harry had challenged her last night, and she was determined not to lose.

The crew had dropped the anchor and had retired below deck a short while ago, and Harry could not help but admire the furrow in between her brows as she concentrated. Harry had spent the last few nights pointing out different constellations that Y/N simply could not fathom. Harry was amused that it bugged her so much that she couldn’t map out the stars in the night’s sky with ease. Her anklet falls on the blanket, and he’s sure that she had loosened the clasp from how much she fiddled with it while reading. She sighs, turning her attention back to the gold rope, fastening it in place, making sure to press down on the hook.

“Rijl al-Qinṭūrus”, she reads out loud in Arabic after a long while, flicking up to look at the sky. The star map had a figure of a centaur and all she had to do was find the brightest one right at the bottom. Her head cranes to find the brightest spot in the sky - the alpha centauri.

The only problem was, there were multiple bright specks and she lets out a defeated sigh, pushing her hair back, “Fuck this,” she mutters.

“Not very royal of you, Princess,” Harry’s teasing tone floats over, she finds him slumped over the bannister looking at her. 

“It is the brightest and biggest star to spot at night,” he reminds her.

She narrows her eyes at him, looking back at the star catalogue again, and slumps back in defeat. “There’s something wrong with this star catalogue,” she declares. “There has to be, Harry.”

“Or maybe you are inept at this,” he smirks, coming to sit beside her. 

“I am not!” She protests. “The illustrations are misleading. None of the constellations look like this,” she points to the image of a centaur holding a spear on one hand and a dead goat on the other.

“That’s because it’s meant for people like you,” he chuckles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She arches her brow.

“Someone who learns from books. It only makes sense the catalogue has full fledged pictures of animals on there, otherwise it would be a mess of lines connecting one dot to another. So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin. They hadn’t kissed since he’d left for Lanka and every night he’d spend in her presence, Harry’s mind could not stop drifting to the way her mouth pressed against his with urgency.

Y/N eyes flutter shut, leaning towards him, nudging his cupid's bow with her lips. Her mouth brushes his as she whispers, “Not before I get my information, spy.” She backs away, observing the way his pupils dilate under the soft buttery light.

“You can’t spot the alpha centauri-”

“I know, which is why I asked you.”

He rolls his eyes at her hastiness. “No one can, because it can only be seen from the southern hemisphere.”

“You tricked me,” she gasps. 

He shrugs, as he tugs her to him, wasting no time in capturing her lips against his. It was more heavenly than he’d remembered. Y/N’s hands snake up to bury them in the baby curls at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer. She melts against his chest, curiously slicking her tongue against his lips, smiling as he parts his mouth for her. She tasted like the tamarind candy she loved. Harry drops one of his hands from her cheek, finding home in the curve of her hip. It’s heady, both greedily smacking wet kisses the curve of their jaw when they part to draw in air. Harry’s heart thumps loudly against his chest, sending him rhythmic reminders that he was twitterpated by the woman trailing her lips against the stubble of his jaw. Plebeians and royalty don’t mix, and on the rare occasion that they did, it never ended well. But until midday tomorrow - when they would reach the port of Handuman - she was just a woman, made from the same stardust as him, whom he wanted to keep melding lips with.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Ladies and gentlemen, eighty years ago today, Field Marshal Montgomery – Commander in Chief of the Allied Ground Forces – wrote in his message to all soldiers on the eve of D-Day:

‘To us is given the honour of striking a blow for freedom, which will live in history; and, in the better days that lie ahead, men will speak with pride of our doings’.

Today, we come together to honour those nearly one hundred and sixty thousand British, Commonwealth and Allied troops who, on 5th June 1944, assembled here and along these shores to embark on the mission, which would strike that blow for freedom and be recorded as the greatest amphibious operation in history.

Those who gathered here in Portsmouth would never forget the sight. It was by far the largest military fleet the world has ever known.

Yet all knew that both victory and failure were possible, and none could know their fate.

Aircrew flying overhead, sailors manning warships; or troops in assault craft battering their way through the stormy swell to the shore; whether dropping by parachute, landing in a wooden glider, or taking that terrible leap of faith onto the beaches... all must have questioned whether they would survive and how they would respond when faced with such mortal danger.

The poet Keith Douglas, who was killed in action three days later, wrote of the embarkation:

"Actors waiting in the wings of Europe, we already watch the lights on the stage and listen to the colossal overture begin.

For us entering at the height of the din, it will be hard to hear our thoughts, hard to gauge how much our conduct owes to fear or fury."

At this remove, eight decades later, it is a near impossible task to imagine the emotion of that day:

The pride of being part of so great an enterprise, the anxiety of in some way not coming up to scratch, and the fear of that day being their last.

I recently myself spoke to veterans who, to this day, remember with such heartbreaking clarity the sight of those many soldiers lying on the beach, who drowned before they could even engage in combat.

The stories of courage, resilience and solidarity which we have heard today, and throughout our lives, cannot fail to move us, to inspire us, and to remind us of what we owe to that great wartime generation – now, tragically, dwindling to so few.

It is our privilege to hear their testimony, but our role is not purely passive:

It is our duty to ensure that we, and future generations, do not forget their service and their sacrifice in replacing tyranny with freedom.

Our rights, and the liberty won at such terrible cost, bring with them responsibilities to others in the exercise of that liberty.

The Allied actions of that day ensured the forces of freedom secured, first, a toehold in Normandy, then liberated France, and ultimately, the whole of Europe from the stranglehold of a brutal totalitarianism.

And as we remember, with humility, pride and gratitude, let us never forget that the soldiers who fought in the campaign launched from this place came from thirty nations, from across the United Kingdom, the Commonwealth and Allied countries; while elsewhere in Europe, Allied forces continued to make vital progress in their successful Italian campaign; and while halfway around the world, at that same moment, the critical battles of Imphal and Kohima raged on in what was then Burma.

The 1944 Victoria Cross roll of honour includes Sikh, Muslim and Hindu soldiers – a reminder that events that year shaped our world then, and the society we share today.

While it was the frontline troops who faced the greatest personal dangers, the privations and sacrifices of war were endured by so many more.

The Allied victory was a truly collective effort, born of the fortitude and hard work of those who remained on the Home Front, toiling in factories, under our land in the mines, out in the fields, or working in secret – men and women alike.

Their collective industry, ingenuity and commitment helped our soldiers, sailors and airmen to prevail.

So, as we give thanks for all those who gave so much to win the victory, whose fruits we still enjoy to this day, let us, once again, commit ourselves always to remember, cherish and honour those who served that day and to live up to the freedom they died for by balancing rights with civic responsibilities to our country. For we are all, eternally, in their debt.

Source: Royal UK

A speech by The King at the UK's National Commemorative Event in Portsmouth to mark #DDay80

5 June 2024

The King addresses veterans, serving forces and and members of the public at the UK's National Commemorative Event in Portsmouth to mark the 80th anniversary of the D-Day Landings.

[mitchipedia]

A bit of family history, from my father’s service in Word War II

My father received these humorous fake orders when he was discharged from the army in 1945, the end of the war.

I found this document while doing some decluttering in my home office yesterday. The paper is brown with age and fragile to the touch. It’s apparently typed and mimeographed.

The document is written in the style of a military memo, instructing the men how to behave when they get back home to civilian life.

In America there are a remarkable number of beautiful girls. These young ladies have not been liberated and many are gainfully employed as stenographers, sales girls, beauty specialists, and welders. Contrary to current practices, they should not be approached with, “How much?” A proper greeting is, “Isn’t it a lovely day!” or “Have you ever been to Chicago?” Then ask, “How much?”

My father served in Burma, which is now Myanmar. I think he also did some time in Taiwan. When he was discharged, he was 21 years old. I think he served several years. A kid from Brooklyn. My father’s native habitat was the New York suburbs; I cannot imagine him in tropical Asia.

I found this document when I was a teenager in the 1970s, investigating the garage of our house on Long Island. I found it again while going through my Dad‘s papers after he passed in 2004. After that, the document disappeared into the clutter of my home office for nearly 20 years until I was decluttering this week, and the papers turned up again.

[tropic-havens]

Pride of Burma, the queen of flowering trees​

Amherstia nobilis, native to the rainforests of Myanmar in Burma, is considered one of the most beautiful flowering trees in the world and is rightly called Pride of Burma or Queen of Flowering Trees.

Its scientific name Amherstia comes from the name of Lady Sarah Amherst, a botanist who was the wife of the Governor General of India from 1824 to 1826.

This tree was discovered by Westerners in 1826 in the garden of a Burmese monastery and introduced around the 1930s in French Polynesia by Harrison Smith, the creator of the botanical garden of Tahiti . Today, Amherstia nobilis is considered an endangered plant species, as it hardly exists any more in its natural state.

The leaves of Amherstia nobilis are evergreen and compound with their whitish underside.

Flowers that only appear for a few months of the year have shades of purple, pink, red and yellow. They grow on a long crimson-red inflorescence and have five crimson-red petals, two of which are very small and the other three of unequal size. The two middle petals have yellow tips. The largest petal, which widens into a fan, can reach 7.5 cm in length.

The fruits are 11 to 20 centimeters long, crescent-shaped pods that split open to disperse the seeds.

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1945 02 Final assault - Stan Stokes

B-29 Superfortress 42-24625 from 498th BG, 875th Bomb Squadron Nose Art 'Lady Mary Anna'

The largest and most powerful bomber of WW II, the Boeing B-29 Super Fortress, played a major role in bringing about the defeat of Japan. In addition to accelerating Japans surrender following the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with atomic bombs, thousands of B-29 crews flew tens of thousands of bombing missions against Japan from bases in China, India, and later in the War from recaptured islands in the Pacific. B-29s entered service in 1943 following a lengthy, problem-filled, development process of three years in response to the governments request for a long range strategic bomber. Only Boeing and Douglas (the B-32 Dominator) responded to the governments requests, and the B-32 had even greater development problems than the B-29. Powered by four giant Wright R-3350-23 radial engines generating a total horsepower of 8,924, the Super Fortresses typically carried crews of ten. They were capable of a top speed of 357-MPH, and at slower cruising speeds had a range of more than 3,200 miles. The B-29 was a large aircraft for its time with a wingspan in excess of 140 feet and a length of just under 100 feet. The Super Forts also had pressurized forward and aft hulls, which made the long distance missions a bit more comfortable for the flight crews. B-29s typically carried defensive armament which included ten machine guns and a single tail-mounted canon. Because of the pressurized hull, the guns were operated by remote control. The first operational B-29 wing was the 58th which flew out of the China-Burma-India theater. On March 9, 1945 General Curtis LeMay ordered an unusual low altitude attack on Tokyo by hundreds of B-29s carrying incendiary bombs. Five such low level missions were scheduled over a ten-day period, and the combined destruction of these missions exceeded that of either of the atomic bomb missions. B-29s were also effectively used to mine Japanese ports and shipping lanes. The Kawasaki Ki-45 Toryu heavy fighter, which is depicted attacking the B-29 in Stan Stokes painting, entered production in 1941 following a lengthy four year development. About 1,700 of these aircraft, code named Nick by the allies, were produced. The Ki-45 never proved effective as a long range daylight interceptor. It was, however, used effectively in ground attack and night fighter roles. It was one of only a few Japanese aircraft that had some success against the onslaught of B-29s because it was able to attain the high altitudes necessary to intercept the high-flying Super Fortresses.

[hillaryisaboss]

On #PresidentsDay, remember & share what we could have had again — the Clinton Era:

—Surplus

—22 million new jobs

—4-balanced budgets due to the superb compromising ability of Bill Clinton

—7 million fewer Americans living in poverty

—Minimum wage up 20%

—Assault Weapons Ban

—Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act

—Campaign Against Teen Pregnancy: all-time low abortion rates

—Office on Violence Against Women

—Violence Against Women Act

—Children’s Health Insurance Program: 8.9 million children insured

—Family and Medical Leave Act

—Incomes rising at all income levels

WATERGATE:

Youngest lawyer ever appointed to an impeachment trial. 26-year-old Yale Law graduate Hillary Rodham.

CHILDREN’S DEFENSE FUND:

Investigated African American juveniles being placed in South Carolina adult prisons, and posed as a racist housewife to expose segregation throughout schools in the South.

FIRST LADY OF ARKANSAS:

Hillary successfully reformed the entire K-12 Arkansas educational system, expanded healthcare for those in rural Arkansas, worked at the Arkansas Children’s Hospital Legal Services, and co-founded the Arkansas Advocates for Children and Families. First female partner of the Rose Law Firm.

The joke in Arkansas was that they “hired the wrong Clinton.”

FIRST LADY OF THE UNITED STATES:

Hillary spearheaded the Adoption and Safe Families Act, the Foster Care Independence Act, Office on Violence Against Women, the Campaign Against Teenage Pregnancy (lowering abortion and teenage pregnancy rates), and the Children’s Health Insurance Program — providing 8.9 million low-income children with healthcare access.

In 1994, Hillary proclaimed on the world stage in Beijing, China:

“If there is one message that echoes forth from this conference, let it be that human rights are women’s rights and women’s rights are human rights once and for all.”

TWO-TIME NEW YORK SENATOR:

Hillary secured 20 billion in federal funds to rebuild downtown New York City after 9/11. She also secured healthcare for 9/11 First Responders and expanded access to care for the National Guard, Reservists, and their families.

U.S. SECRETARY OF STATE:

Passed the first-ever U.N Resolution on gay rights (proclaiming: “human rights are gay rights and gay rights are human rights” on the world stage), and made it so trans Americans can legally change their gender on their passport. Hillary also rebuilt relations with every nation after the disastrous Bush Administration, traveling to 112 countries — more than any other Secretary of State. Our worldwide favorability rose 20% during Hillary’s tenure. Her primary focus was on women’s rights and health, bringing up issues such as forced abortion and maternal mortality rates. Hillary re-opened relations with Burma, enacted a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, and killed Osama Bin Laden. She also was instrumental in putting together the Paris Climate Agreement, something Trump has since removed us from.

*Three-time popular vote winners

*Two-time White House occupants

Presided over our last great era — the pragmatic 1990s.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

The Clintons: two players that got actual results for the American people.

Vilified for playing the game and winning.

Haters have been hating since Arkansas.

Happy Presidents Day Bill & Hillary.

Made for the White House.

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Should be in the Oval Office right now.

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

#3MillionMoreVotes

#TrumpIsIllegitimate

#StolenBy #Russia & #Comey

We were robbed.

2016 was stolen from the American people.

We should be outraged forever.

#PutinDestroyingUsFromTheInside

Don’t believe the Russian-bots when they lie and spread propaganda about the Clintons.

The Clintons are a good family that genuinely cares about the American people.

“There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.” ~President Bill Clinton

❤️❤️❤️❤️💙💙💙💙

[living400lbs]

A murder has occurred. Father-in-law is thinking.

"Interesting thing is while I don’t think you did it, I do think that you are fully capable of doing it or having it done. And I’ve never thought that of you before.”

“Are you saying I’ve risen in your estimation?” she asked, irked by the idea.

“Any businessman worth his salt is capable of murder,” said Bainbridge as Percival scraped the last bit of stubble from his throat. “If you survive this investigation, you will be a worthy addition to the company.”

From The Lady From Burma by Allison Montclair

[jolieeason]

WWW Wednesday: July 19th, 2023

WWW Wednesday is a weekly meme hosted by Sam at Taking on a World of Words.The Three Ws are:What are you currently reading?What did you recently finish reading?What do you think you’ll read next? What I am currently reading: A music critic stuck in a spiral of epic proportions targets her teenage crush for a career comeback and a chance at revenge. What could possibly go wrong? Sammy…

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Dana Wynter (Invasion of the Body Snatchers)—no propaganda submitted

Helen (Howrah Bridge, China Town, Teesri Manzil)— Helen might be stretching the definition of "star" a little bit as she was a dancer rather than a leading lady, but her Hotness is absolutely unassailable. She choreographed her own dances, designed her own costumes, overall has a mind-bogglingly wild life story, and survived it all to turn 85 in November. I ADORE her.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Helen propaganda:

"Was not technically a leading lady, but played the sexy roles good girls couldn't play, before dying so the hero could marry the good girl. BOLLYWOOD ICON also survived the Japanese invasion of Burma by walking from Rangoon to Assam aged four or five but this is less related to her hotness"

[scotianostra]

Doctor Margaret Thomson  was born on August 20th  1902.

Born as Margaret Hunter in Leith, she went to Edinburgh Ladies College and then to the University of Edinburgh where she qualified as a doctor in 1926. Margaret married a rubber planter and went to live on Carey Island in what was then Malaya.

Margaret was one of six children and the third of four daughters of George Alexander Hunter, a bank secretary and solicitor, and his wife Margaret, née Robertson.

She had a comfortable upbringing and attended the Edinburgh Ladies College, an independent school now known as The Mary Erskine School. She went from there to Edinburgh University to study medicine, graduating in 1926 alongside one of her sisters.

Margaret Hunter became a GP in Lanarkshire where she met and married Daniel Thomson, a rubber planter and agricultural engineer by profession. The couple moved to a rubber plantation near Kuala Lumpur in what was then the Federated Malay States but which is now Malaysia, and Dr Thomson went to work in the local medical services.

When World War two broke out the Japanese army rampaged through Malaya in December 1941 and January 1942.

Dr Thomson and her husband went to Singapore where the British forces and civilian refugees were gathering. After the British and Commonwealth forces were soundly beaten, Dr Thomson tended to the wounded who were brought to the city.

The last ship to leave Singapore before its surrender was the SS Kuala and Margaret  was on board, having been separated from her husband who was duly captured by the Japanese.

The Kuala was bombed at sea and sank, Dr Thomson being seriously wounded in the leg during the attack. The Japanese aircraft strafed the survivors in the water but she was rescued from the sea by Raymond Frazer of the RAF who got her into a lifeboat. There she cared for other wounded passengers using wreckage from the ship as makeshift splints, and then took part in an epic eight-hour row before the lifeboat was taken by Chinese fishermen to relative safety on Kebat and then Senajang islands.

There, despite her serious leg wound, she set about organising the medical care of the wounded and injured, carrying out several emergency operations.

Her wounded thigh turned septic and she was taken by stretcher to Sinkep from where she left with other women survivors to try and evade the Japanese. She was captured in Sumatra, however, and imprisoned in the brutal Djambi jail and then an even more primitive prisoner of war camp at Irenelaan, where another Scottish inmate was Norah Chambers who organised a choir to maintain morale.

The guards refused to pass on Red Cross medical supplies and Dr Thomson had to endure the deaths of many of her patients in the camp.

News of her courage on board the Kuala had been passed back to London and in August 1943 she was awarded the MBE “for her resolution and disregard of self, her sacrifice and admirable courage”, as stated in her citation.

Unbeknown to Thomson, her husband had been captured and made to work on the infamous Burma railway. Both of them survived, however, and returned after the war to the rubber plantation where she set up a health clinic.

The Thomsons came back to Scotland in 1950 and set up what was described as an innovative farm near Huntly. Daniel Thomson died in 1971 and Margaret lived on at Huntly until her own death on June 16, 1982 at the age of 79.

Her story was mentioned in several books and she really did advise the BBC on Tenko, but she never enjoyed talking about her wartime experiences. She never once watched an episode of the series.

There is no great monument to Dr Margaret Thomson as far as I know, but then there are precious few memorials to the women and men like her who were civilians who made their own contribution to the war effort.