#naval surgeon

[ltwilliammowett]

Shores of the Polar Sea. A Narrative of the Arctic Expedition of 1875-6. London: Marcus Ward & Co., by Naval Surgeon Edward Lawton Moss, 1878

[clove-pinks]

As someone who is about to go do some really intense 1812 naval larping, I would love to know what you've been learning about 1812-era naval surgeons!

One of the best guides to historic naval medicine that I have found is A Short History of Nautical Medicine by Louis H. Roddis (parts I, II, III, IV and part V are available for free download!) It was written in 1941 and is little dated, but a solid overview of the development of Western naval medicine. Roddis also scores many bonus points from me by quoting Captain Marryat's novels to illustrate both naval diseases and the diet of sailors.

I highly recommend the Mariner's Medical Guide of Royal Navy surgeon C.F. Vandeburgh, published 1819. It's designed for shipboard use by persons without a medical background, so it uses plain language to discuss the prevention and treatment of disease, including many recipes for food for the sick. (And the author keeps writing "penis or yard" over and over again, presuming that the readers are unfamiliar with the weird clinical term "penis.")

[solomon-tozer]

I wonder if Stanley ever blames Goodsir for what happens.

I wonder if he ever blames himself.

He, the more experienced surgeon, wouldn't intervene to operate on Silna's father. He watched as Goodsir did his best. Maybe he watched in a detached, clinical way that saw the actions alone and tallied up all the things Goodsir was doing wrong, or that he, Stanley, could do better. When the man died, that was just a fact, really. Inevitable, perhaps, given the time since he was shot and Goodsir's skill.

I wonder if some part of him looked back at that incident in a different light later on. If he'd helped to save the man, how much of this could have been avoided?

And if Goodsir was a better surgeon and saved Silna's father, would things have been different?

[hollers-and-holmes]

She did not care to watch what she knew must come next, either. She drew a chair out from the wall and rather pointedly turned it toward the window. There were gulls swooping and crying over the waves. She wondered if they had followed the swanship all the way from Mithlond.

Behind her Elrohir said with amusement in his voice, “Still squeamish, I see.”

She bore him no response. Her brief foray as apprentice in the healing halls of the Last Homely House had ended in grave indignity and she did not care to recollect it.

For a while the proceedings behind her required too much in the way of clatters and hisses and murmured reassurances for any explanations to be made, whether from Arahad, who sounded like he was working very hard not to whimper, nor from her, who had no intention of turning around and beholding the slaughter. Finally Elrohir said with a good measure of gentleness in his tone, “That’s the last of it, good boy, we’ll take a little break before we finish.”

[thewulf]

Lost and Found || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if I could request a Jake x Reader. I was thinking a good friends situation where they were both interested in the other but didn’t want to mess up their friend group dynamic and so they never said anything. And of course they were each oblivious to the fact they were into each other,.. Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh sorry anon, this took forever to write as I was feeling uninspired. Turns out I just needed to watch TGM and whew! I forgot how much I love Jake Seresin and the TGM crew :) Hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

T/W : Angsty in the beginning

The air in Virginia was thick with the scent of saltwater and fresh possibility when you first noticed the cocky Lieutenant who was making a beeline towards you. It was a humid afternoon on the naval base, and you, a newly hired trauma surgeon, were immersed in your work, lost in the world of medical charts and patient files. And just as you were about to get up, he walked in with a cocky grin and an air of self-assurance that demanded attention. You knew the type, he had to be a pilot. They just had the air about them.

"Hey there, beautiful," he greeted you with a wink, his voice carrying across the room with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Yeah, he was a pilot. Only they had the reassurance to be so fearless on a first interaction.

You raised an eyebrow at his boldness, unimpressed but intrigued by his approach. "Can I help you with something?" you replied, your tone cool and collected. You knew how to deal with his type. Be dismissive. Ignore them and eventually they’ll get bored enough to leave you alone.

The blonde-haired man slid into the seat opposite you, his grin never faltering as he leaned in closer. "Just couldn't resist the chance to introduce myself to the most captivating woman on base," he said smoothly, his words dripping with charm.

A chuckle escaped your lips, though you tried to suppress it. That was a new one for sure. "Flattery will get you nowhere Lieutenant," you responded, a hint of amusement in your voice.

He grinned in response, undeterred by your playful resistance. His eyes flashed down to your chest which displayed your rank and last name. "Ah, but I'm not just trying to flatter you Lieutenant Commander. I genuinely want to know the name of the woman who's been keeping me up at night," he admitted, his tone sincere but laced with playful arrogance.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his persistence. "Well, in that case, I suppose you'll have to earn it," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For whatever reason you were having fun with this interaction. It wasn’t often you would give these Navy boys much time but there was something about him. Something that had you setting down your charts to get a good look at him.

Jake leaned back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze locking with yours. "I'm Jake, by the way. And you are?"

You maintained a playful smile, keeping him guessing as you decided to reveal just a fragment of yourself. "I'm a trauma surgeon," you replied cryptically, letting the mystery linger in the air. It was then that you noticed how handsome he was. Blonde, clean-cut hair and deep green eyes… who wouldn’t swoon for that?

Jake's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise, his cocky demeanor momentarily faltering. "A trauma surgeon? Now, that's impressive," he remarked, a newfound respect coloring his tone. "Here I am, just a pilot, and you're out there saving lives and I take them."

You chuckled softly at his dark humor, appreciating the humility that so rarely came from the pilots you had known in the past. "It's not a competition," You assured him, feeling a sense of something beginning to form between the two of you. No wonder he was so cocky. He was striking and a pilot to boot? It should’ve been over then and there, but he drew you in further than you had ever intended.

Jake nodded, his gaze lingering on you with a newfound sense of admiration. "I know, but still...what you do is pretty incredible. Badass even.” he said earnestly, a genuine warmth in his voice.

As the conversation continued to flow between you, a comfortable exchange began to form, fueled by mutual respect and a shared sense of adventure. And though you kept him guessing with your playful evasions, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel drawn to Jake – to his confidence, his charm, and the undeniable spark that crackled between you. And so, as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the mess hall and the sounds of laughter filled the air, you found yourself fascinated by Jake, captivated by his irresistible charm and magnetic personality. Little did you know, this chance encounter would be the beginning of a friendship – and perhaps something more – that would change the course of your lives forever.

Over time, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't quite explain. Despite the demands of your respective roles on the base, you made time to see each other whenever you could – stolen moments between shifts, late-night conversations beneath the stars, stolen glances in the dimly lit corridors of the barracks. Everyone knew of the two of you. Clearly in love but too stupid to do anything about it.

But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension between you, a lingering sense of longing that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You were both fiercely independent individuals, committed to your careers and reluctant to jeopardize the fragile balance of your friendship with something as unpredictable as love. So, you buried your feelings beneath layers of professionalism, convincing yourself that it was better this way – safer, more practical, less likely to end in utter heartbreak. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the spark between you refused to be extinguished, flickering to life with each passing glance, each fleeting touch.

Then, on a random Tuesday afternoon, Jake dropped a bombshell that shattered the delicate equilibrium you had worked so hard to maintain. "I'm being reassigned after this deployment," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "To Miramar."

As Jake's words sank in, a heavy silence enveloped the room, suffocating you with the weight of what his departure truly meant. You had been through so much together over the past three years. The highs and the lows, the laughter, and the tears. And now, faced with the prospect of his absence, you couldn't help but feel as though a piece of your heart was being torn away.

"Miramar? To Top Gun?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying the ache in your heart. You knew it was everything he had been working towards. And you knew how damn good of a pilot he was. It just surprised you how soon he was getting sent there. He must’ve been the best of the best.

Jake nodded. His expression somber. "Yeah. It's everything I’ve been working towards, but..." His voice trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud of regret.

But all you could feel was a sense of loss. For the friendship you had built, for the moments you had shared, for the possibility of something more that now seemed out of reach. "I'm so happy for you, Jake. You deserve it. You deserve the whole world." You forced the words out, though they felt like shards of glass tearing at your soul. A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a silent path down your cheek.

Jake reached out, gently wiping away the tear with a look of utter despair in his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to see you cry. "I wish you could come with me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a longing you knew mirrored your own. He grabbed for your hand joining his fingers in with yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over at any moment. "I know," you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears. "But I'm still in the middle of my fellowship. I can't just drop everything and leave. No matter how badly I want to." Another tear escaped as you realized what this meant. Your little bubble of happiness was going to vanish in an instant.

Jake nodded in understanding, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to hold onto the moment for just a little while longer. "I know," he murmured, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and longing, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within your own heart.

Then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he flashed a small smile. "You know, I used to dream of being a Top Gun pilot when I was a kid," he confessed, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Never thought I'd actually get the chance to fly jets like that."

You couldn't help but smile through your tears, touched by his vulnerability. "You've come a long way from your childhood dreams Jake. I knew you’d be able to do it. If anybody could, it’s you," you remarked softly, a sense of pride swelling within you despite the ache in your heart. Because he did deserve it. He may have come off as an arrogant asshole at first, but he was anything but that. He was your best friend. The man who looked out for you over himself time and time again. You loved him but you held it close to your chest. Because you did love him you had to let him go. Let him go live his dreams.

And as the reality of his departure settled over you like a dark cloud. You couldn't help but wonder how you would ever find the strength to say goodbye to him. As you sat there together, holding hands beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the barracks, you realized that no matter where life took you, no matter how far apart you may be, the bond you shared with Jake would endure – a constant reminder of the love and friendship that had blossomed in the unlikeliest of places.

After Jake's departure, life on the base took on a different rhythm. The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, each passing moment marked by the absence of his laughter, his warmth, his unwavering presence by your side. Despite the distance, you and Jake still found solace in occasional phone calls and sporadic messages, though never as often as you wished.

On an ordinary day, your world was turned upside down once again. Your commanding officer called you into his office, his expression serious as he delivered the news. "Doctor Y/L/N. I have some important news for you," he began, his tone solemn. "Due to some unforeseen circumstances, we've had to make some adjustments to our staffing plan. You're being reassigned."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a sense of unease settling over you. "Reassigned? But I thought I was heading to Austin for my next rotation. Replacing Doctor Warmack." you replied, trying to mask the anxiety in your voice. You had plans. You were moving to Texas. You had a house picked out. A life you were planning to start. But then again, you were in the military. You should’ve expected this.

Your CO shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Plans have changed. Chula Vista is in urgent need of a trauma surgeon of your caliber," he explained, his words sending a jolt of shock through your system.

Upon hearing the news of your reassignment to Chula Vista, a whirlwind of questions surged within you. "Sir, may I ask where Chula Vista is located?" you inquired tentatively, your voice betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You hadn’t heard of that base. And you could’ve sworn you knew all the potential bases you could’ve been assigned to.

Your commanding officer, a seasoned veteran with a weathered expression, glanced up from his desk, his gaze thoughtful. "Chula Vista is a city just south of here, part of the San Diego metropolitan area," he explained as he pointed to the map of the states, his tone carrying a sense of gravitas. "It's home to several military installations, including Naval Air Station North Island and Naval Base Coronado. It's also in close proximity to Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.”

The mention of North Island and Miramar sent a jolt of emotion through you, memories of Jake flooding your mind with a bittersweet intensity. "Chula Vista also supports Top Gun operations, among many other military endeavors," the CO continued, his voice steady as he provided further context.

You were heading to exactly where Jake was. A shiver of anxiety ripped through you as you processed his words. “Thank you, sir," you replied, a mixture of gratitude and anticipation swelling within you.

As you turned to leave, the weight of the news settled over you, mingling with a newfound sense of purpose. Chula Vista, a city steeped in military history, a place where your path will intersect with Jake's once more. And though uncertainty loomed on the horizon, there was a glimmer of hope shining through. The possibility of reconnecting with Jake and the chance to explore what the future held in store.

As the days passed and your departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a dilemma: should you reach out to Jake before making the move to Chula Vista, or should you let fate take its course and surprise him? The months of silence between you weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you uncertain of where you stood with him. Would he be glad to hear from you, or would your sudden reappearance only complicate things further?

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you and reconnect before the distance between you grew even wider. But another part of you feared rejection, feared that your efforts would be met with indifference or worse… that Jake had moved on without you.

In the end, you couldn't shake the feeling that fate was leading you back to Jake, guiding you toward a reunion that was long overdue. And so, with a leap of faith, you made the decision to keep your plans a secret, to let the element of surprise be your ally. With each passing day, your anticipation grew, your excitement mingling with a touch of nervousness as you prepared for your move to Chula Vista. And as you boarded the plane bound for your new home, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for you, for Jake, and for the bond that had endured despite the trials and tribulations that had threatened to tear you apart.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Hard Deck. You found yourself seated at the bar, engaged in conversation with Penny, the owner of the establishment. The ambience was relaxed, with the murmur of chatter and the clinking of glasses providing a soothing backdrop to your discussion.

Penny, a vibrant and charismatic woman with a penchant for storytelling, leaned in with genuine interest as she got to know you. "So, what brings you to the Hard Deck? I haven’t seen you around here before," she asked, a playful twinkle in her eye.

You offered her a warm smile, appreciating her genuine curiosity. "Just got here a week ago. I've heard so much about this place from my coworkers," you explained, gesturing to the bustling bar around you. "They all recommended it as the must-visit bar in Miramar."

Penny's eyes lit up at your mention of coworkers. "Ah, you must be part of the base personnel then," she observed, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

You nodded, a sense of camaraderie forming between you. "I am! I'm a trauma surgeon over at the hospital in Chula Vista," you confirmed.

At the mention of your role, Penny's expression shifted, her eyes widening with recognition. "Wait a minute... are you Y/N? Doctor Y/L/N?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Surprised by her sudden enthusiasm and knowing of your name, you nodded cautiously. "Yes, that's me. But how did you...?" you trailed off, curious about Penny's sudden change in demeanor. Her excitement was palpable, you could feel it in the air.

Penny beamed at you. "Oh, Jake talks about you all the time! You're one of his favorites," she revealed, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

A warmth spread through your chest at her words, touched by Jake's apparent fondness for you. "He does?" you asked, unable to conceal the smile that tugged at your lips.

Penny nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! He's always mentioning how talented and dedicated you are. He won’t admit it… or he doesn’t recognize it, but that man is head over heels for you, Doctor," she added with a playful wink.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Penny's teasing, feeling a flutter of anticipation as thoughts of Jake filled your mind. Little did you know, your reunion with him was just moments away, and the excitement of seeing him again filled you with a sense of joyful anticipation. Penny's mischievous grin widened as she caught sight of your reaction. "Oh, don't try to hide it, Y/N. I can see that spark in your eye," she teased, nudging you playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of nervous energy coursing through you. "Alright, you caught me," you admitted with a grin. "I'm looking forward to catching up with an old friend."

As you sat at the bar, lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the door swinging open, admitting a group of pilots. It wasn't until Penny nudged you once more and whispered excitedly that you looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you caught sight of Jake among them.

Before you could react, Jake's eyes locked onto yours, a look of sheer astonishment crossing his face. In a flash, he broke into a wide grin and dashed toward you, weaving through the crowd with purpose. You barely had time to register what was happening before Jake was upon you, pulling you into a massive bear hug that lifted you off your feet. Laughter bubbled up from deep within you as he spun you around in a whirlwind of joy and excitement, the world around you fading away as you surrendered to the moment.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight as he held you close, his grip on you tight and unyielding. You couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a familiar cocoon. In that moment, it didn't matter who was watching or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was the sheer exhilaration of being reunited with Jake, of feeling his arms around you once again.

"What the hell are you doing here without telling me, Doc?" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with mock indignation as he held you close, refusing to let you go.

You laughed, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at the familiarity of his embrace. "Surprise?" you replied, unable to keep the grin from your face as you met his gaze.

Jake shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, consider me surprised," he admitted, his tone playful as he finally set you back down on solid ground. “I have to say, this is the best surprise I've had in a long time." As you stood there together, wrapped up in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the years that had passed since you last saw each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all. As though you had simply picked up right where you left off.

As the warmth of your embrace lingered, Jake's eyes remained fixed on yours, a softness settling over his features as he took in the sight of you. His hand remained firmly on your shoulder, his touch comforting and reassuring.

"I've missed you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "More than you'll ever know." You felt a swell of emotion rise within you at his words, the sincerity in his voice stirring something deep within your heart. Despite the distance and the time that had passed, the connection between you felt as strong as ever – a testament to the bond you shared.

Before you could respond, Jake's gaze softened even further, a flicker of determination shining in his eyes as he made a decision. Without hesitation, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. "Let's catch up," he suggested, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want to share."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face at his eagerness to spend time together. "I'd love that," you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of reconnecting with Jake.

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, the sound of laughter and music fading into the background, Jake turned to you, his expression earnest. "Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You looked at him, curiosity piqued by his serious tone. "What is it, Jake?" you asked, concern flickering in your eyes.

Jake took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I've thought about this moment for so long, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to tell you how I feel," he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation building within you as you waited for him to speak. "How you feel?" you prompted, unable to contain the hope in your voice.

Jake's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I've been too afraid," he admitted, his voice filled with vulnerability. Before you could respond, he took a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek gently. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to make up for lost time and see where this goes."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and as you gazed into his eyes, you found yourself lost in the depths of his sincerity. His vulnerability touched you in a way you hadn't expected, and you felt a surge of affection for him that was impossible to ignore. But before you could respond, Jake took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with determination.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, surprised by his respect and thoughtfulness. You nodded eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Please, Jake," you replied with certainty, your voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."

As Jake's lips met yours, a surge of warmth flooded through your entire body. It was as if every nerve in you ignited with a newfound energy, responding to the tender, loving touch of his kiss. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips against yours, soft and yielding yet filled with an undeniable passion. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the sweetness of his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle rhythm, each kiss sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. It was one of those kisses filled with longing and desire, a silent confession of the feelings that had been building between you for so long.

Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you as the intensity of the moment washed over you, but Jake's strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close and steady. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, grounding you in the present moment even as you felt yourself swept away by the sheer emotion of it all. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him as if he could never bear to let you go again. They were warm and reassuring, tracing the curves of your spine with a tenderness that left you breathless. For the first time in your life, you felt utterly and completely cherished, as if you were the most important person in the world to him. Because you were and he was determined to show you that.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you in your own private cocoon of love and desire. It was a moment you would treasure forever, a testament to the depth of the connection you shared with Jake.

When you finally pulled away, your lips still tingling from the sweetness of his, you found yourself lost in his eyes once again. As you gazed into Jake's, feeling the weight of his gaze and the depth of his love, a sense of peace washed over you. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place, and you knew, deep in your heart, that this was where you were meant to be.

With a gentle smile, Jake pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered softly, "I am never letting you go again." His words filled you with a sense of warmth and belonging, reassuring you that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. While you gazed into the depths of his soul, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your story together.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[the-fiction-witch]

I'm Gonna Kill Him

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Angsty Smut!

Requested:

Hello! Before I start, I just wanted to say that I love your book so much! Could you create an imagine or a smut scene from your Jack Dawkins' book where they've broken up, and Y/N visits Jack's place that led them to having a angry/makeup sex? Then, a week later, Y/N discovers she's pregnant with his baby, which ultimately brings them back together.

Warnings : angst / angry sex, cheating, slapping, spanking, choking, biting,

I didn't want to go back, I felt like I was never going to hear the end of it. 

But I want my damn book back. 

So I got myself dressed into my black and emerald dress doing my utmost to look beautiful and glamorous, If I have to see him then god damn it he's gonna have to look at me like I'm a princess. 

I finished up and headed out into town making sure I was seen, making a point to be seen by men until I reached the hospital. I headed in proudly seeing the usual bustle of nurses and patience.

"Ohh Miss Y/n, Dr Dawkins is in his room" Hetty smiled as she saw me

"Thank you Hetty" I smiled 

"He has said he didn't want you in there miss y/n" 

"I'm well aware of what he wants." I rolled my eyes as I headed up to his room not even bothering to knock simply opened the door and saw Jack lying on his bed fiddling with a coin between his fingers, he looked up and looked annoyed 

"Ohh. What do you want?"

"You know exactly what I want. Where is it?"

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about" 

"Where is my book, Jack?"

"How should I know?"

"I left it here, I missed it when I was packing, I know you have it, where is it?"

"Why would I want your mouldy old book? I don't have it." He snapped getting up from his bed

"I know you do, you're just keeping it to be hurtful"

"Hurtful! I'm not the one who went bloody psycho !"

"PSYCHO!"

"You heard me!"

"I wasn't the one who violated the sanctity of a union"

"Ohh here we go again! I didn't violate anything!"

"You liar!"

"At least she didn't kick me out of bloody bed in the morning!"

"So you admit it!"

"Yeah fine, I admit it! does that soothe your ego princess!" 

Immediately I slapped him across the face and he didn't even flinch 

".... I will never hit a woman. But your making it really fucking tempting!"

"Ohh go on then you scrawny little shit I'd like to see you try!"

"I was a naval officer you think I can't take a little lady in a fight!"

"Officer! Like hell, you only were because you sat on the right laps!" 

"How dare you!" He yelled, "You repugnant little witch!"

I went to slap him again but he grabbed my wrist before I could throwing my arm back

"Ohh you gonna hit me with your parasol too?" He glared 

"You are an unbelievable bastard! I can't believe I-"

"You what?"

"I can't believe I even considered us for a moment!"

"Yeah well same here! I dodged a bloody bullet. I'd have spent my life stuck married to you!"

"Ohh I'd have made your life a living hell every second of it just for the thrill of it!"

"You would wouldn't you! you'd have turned me into some little pitiful house husband just to spide me wouldn't you!" 

"I would I'd have torn you down so low you'd be looking up to kiss my feet!" I yelled "And I'd have taken pleasure in it you evil man! treacherous! fuckwit!"

He grabbed my waist and pulled me into a kiss, I was so very angry with him, I wanted to slap him off me but I didn't want to kiss him back I wanted to win! I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of my submission, So I kissed him with force, trying to take control, but he would not allow that so easily forcing his tongue down my throat but I argued with him even at this moment battling with him in a war of our tongues, I grabbed his shirt desperate for control but he grabbed my waist and unlaced my dress, making quick work of it given his quick nibble surgeons fingers, I didn't want him to win so I began unbuttoning his trousers, once undone he grabbed my waist and forced me down onto the bed But I grabbed his hips and forced him down flat on the mattress 

"Don't you even think about it!" He groaned flipping us over so I was under him 

"I refuse to be under such a bastard." I gritted my teeth 

"You can ride me if you wish." 

"Not on your life." 

"Open your legs, Or I'll bend you over it's up to you." 

"Maybe I'll bend you over."

"You would you little succubus!"

"Well, how else was I meant to keep up with you!"

"You always did you were a little Fucking whore for me" He growled forcing off my dress "God damn it you are an evil, conniving, little witch but god had to give you that fucking body didn't he!" 

"He didn't have to make you such an unreasonable, arrogant, illiterate, Imbosile but here we are" I smirked clawing as his shirt 

"And we both know what he gave me to make up for that" He growled pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and forcing off his shirt as he pulled me into another aggressive kiss I clawed down his chest almost drawing blood as he forced me on my knees, 

"Don't even think about it, Jack!" I glared but he forced my hips up to his and dug his nails into my ass

"I'll do much more than think about it" he smirked pushing off his trousers and forcing himself inside me, 

as much as I hated it, my anger bubbling in my bones, but... I moaned as I had missed the feeling of him inside me, he didn't waste a single moment starting his fast and angsty thrusts, pounding into me like his life utterly depended on it, I moved my hips back trying to take control but I think it was a little late for that even so I made sure to force him into the pace I wanted which only frustrated him more, the bed creaking and squeaking, his violent grunts and groans much the sounds one would make in a fight tumbling from behind me until he began to slow his breaths getting looser 

"That all you got little boy?" I smirked moving myself 

"I. Am. Not. A boy!" He groaned grabbing my hair and pulling on it to bring my ear to his lips "Don't make have to teach my succubus a lesson!" He growled bitting on my shoulder 

"Ughhhhhh! Uhhhhh!" I squealed given his pace didn't stop his angle hitting where I needed "You whore so bad you missed me this much?!" 

"Missed you? You know what I did I missed your pussy princess I've got it just how I love it. But we wanna talk about who missed who, who came here showing off like she was the fucking queen all for her little fucking book back"

"and you caved this quickly? I thought you had more resilience than that Jack?"

"Not around you I don't" He smirked moving a hand to rub my clit 

"Uhhhhhh!" I gasped and he forced me back down onto the pillow "See I knew you missed me" I gasped 

"You can't blame me for missing a pussy I've fucked for the last two years. took a long time to get you this good." 

"Like I didn't train you" I smirked "Jack please-"

"Yeah? you need me that bad you had to come see me?" he cooed "Cause you know I'm the only person in port victoria who can make you cum"

"I can do it myself then I don't have to deal with your bloody ego!"

"fine, then I'll stop-" He smirked going to sloe

"Don't you fucking dare Jack!" I groaned forcing him to move quicker until I almost ripped his sheets as I screamed reaching my high 

"fuck you sound good like that" He groaned "I could almost put up with your shit for that noise" 

"I bet you could" I smirked forcing us over so he was down on his back 

"I knew you couldn't resist" He smirked

"You dare I will slap that smirking face of yours" I warn moving to ride him as aggressively as possible 

"UGhhhhhhhh fucking- you evil little thing"

"shut up Jack," I warn bouncing and moving mercilessly on him 

"Come on then princess make me cum" He smirked 

"I said shut up!" I yelled wrapping my hands around his neck to slightly choke him 

"UUughhhhhhhhhh!" he groans "Fuck-" He gasped his hips bucking like crazy as he buried himself inside of me so I pulled my hands back and caught my breath "Fine. I admit it. I've missed you" he gasped 

"Fine. I missed you too." I sighed climbing off him and going to get my dress but he grabbed me and pulled me back into the bed so he could cuddle me my head on his chest 

"Now you have... all of that out of your system, and have had time to pout. am I allowed to actually explain myself?"

"What's there to explain, you fucked her Jack. Plain and simple, what do you have to explain?"

"Will you listen anyway?" He asked stroking my hair 

"Fine. If you want to waste your breath."

"She has a problem"

"ohh I bet she did-"

"No. Listen. shut your mouth a while and listen to what I'm saying." he snapped "She has a problem, a medical problem, inoperable, incurable, she'll be dead within the month if not sooner" he explained quietly as he gently pets my hair "She was an innocent"

"was she? I bet she told you that." I said back almost in a whisper 

"Y/n. I swear to you, she told me, in confidence that she was an innocent, given the state of her condition she accepted her death and had began to make arrangements for the future,"

"And where do you come into all this?"

"I'm her doctor. I've been treating her. She asked me to... she said of all the things in this world that she will miss, she wanted to feel the touch of a man just once in her life." He whispered "So I did, Yes I fucked her. Should I have done it... I don't know. But do I regret it? No. would I do it again, I frankly don't know. I'm not sure I would If I'd have known I'd lose you because of it."

"Why you? She could have asked many, barely a man in Port Victoria that wouldn't want to fuck a virgin."

"Because I'm her doctor, and I was engaged. She trusted me. She didn't want to be used like some old whore she wanted to feel loved, and she knew she could trust me because I'm her doctor, and she wouldn't leave a man utterly in love with her behind, because she knew I loved you."

"Is that true?"

"Why would I lie to you now? you've already left me."

"why didn't you just tell me that?"

"Because I fucked another woman plain and simple... you didn't want to listen and it would only dig myself deeper if I did" 

"...it wasn't what you did Jack."

"No?"

"No. I just wish you'd have told me first."

"What?" he asked sitting up  a little 

"If you had come to me, and told me about her, about her illness, about what she had asked of you. I'd have allowed it." 

"No, you wouldn't-"

"I would. Because it is a kind thing to do Jack, if I was dying I'd have asked you too. I wish you had come and asked me, I'd have allowed it, but instead, I had to find out afterwards, from Sneed of all people not even you, that you broke my trust."

"I know, I was just worried you'd be angry if I told you." 

"I was more angry you didn't"

"That's fair." He nods "I fucked up, and I know that. it doesn't matter now... She's dead anyway."

"What?"

"Passed away this morning." 

"I'm sorry Jack-"

"It's fine. she doesn't have to suffer anymore. I'm happy, I could make her final days somewhat enjoyable"

"You're kind, and sweet when you want to be" 

"I am sorry. Believe me."

"Well... it doesn't matter now does it."

"I guess not." he sighed "She didn't even call me Jack."

"No?"

"No. Just Doctor Dawkins" He chuckled 

"Did you use her name?"

"I did. I wanted to make her feel loved... But I thought of you." He whispered kissing my forehead 

"You did?"

"I did. I imagined her body as yours, her voice as yours," He said "You know you're the only girl who can satisfy me. so I thought of you"

"... I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse." I sighed 

"Y/n..."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Is there, any possibility, no matter how slim? That, you and I may... rekindle even a portion of what we had before?" 

"I doubt it, Jack." I said moving to see his face "I will always love you, but I can't forgive you." 

"Could I do anything for you to forgive me?"

"No. Once trust is broken... like a delicate vase chattered, the pieces may be placed back, but you will always see the crack." I explained "Who's to say... another girl, in a similar state, asks the same of you, I cannot trust that you wouldn't do it again"

"... I understand." he nods "And I am sorry. I will always love you, you know that. No matter what you do, or say, my heart will always be yours." 

"And Mine yours." I smiled giving him a sweet kiss "I should go." I said climbing out the bed and starting to get dressed again 

"I don't know what I'm gonna do without you," he said as he watched me dress 

"I'm sure you shall find ladies to spend of the evening." 

"It's not the evening that worries me, it's the mornings, and the middays, and the afternoons, and the middle of the nights, a fuck is a fuck, but when you cum it's over, with you... every moment and all of it felt like heaven" 

"Well, such are the consequences of your actions." I sighed "Now? my book."

He rolled his eyes sitting up slipping his trousers on and pulling my book from under his mattress 

"Thank you" I snapped taking it back "A reason you kept it?"

"...reminds me of you." 

"You always complained you couldn't read it. my stupid spider scrawl handwriting"

"I can't. but I know what it says... when I read it, chasing the words around the page I- I heard your voice reading it to me" 

for a moment I felt teary "Keep it." I said handing back the book 

"No." he said pushing it back into my hand and kissing my lips in a soft and gentle way "Please don't labour me with memories of you." 

"Alright," I nodded "Goodbye Jack."

"Goodbye Y/n" He nods fighting back his tears 

I took my book and I left heading home. 

I sat in bed fresh as the morning sun, unable to bring myself to rise just yet, I turned and saw my book on my bedside table and I thought of him, for a moment all our nights of enthroned passion returned, I thought of our last night together over a month ago now of angst and anger, I thought of how he held me that night, how he kissed me still with all the love that he had always done so, 

I thought of the most wonderful moments, Of how his head would settle in my lap after the day's work, I would twist and knot my fingers in his golden locks, he would press a kiss to my thighs, and I would read to him, all that I had written, and he would offer me suggestions of words that suited better, listing synonyms for me to replace the overused words. 

I forced such thoughts away and sat myself up checking the day on my calendar I knew what to expect today pulling back my covers but- they were as white as sheep. This couldn't be? I was late already. I tried not to allow panic to set in given my typical irregularities.

"Miss I have brought your you porridge with honey" The maid smiled as she came through with my breakfast but the simple smell was enough

"Out." I demanded throwing my head off my bed to upturn my stomach into the bucket I had left there, and she scurried away. "No... No this can't be possible." I forced myself up and over to my mirror pulling back my nightie to expose my stomach it didn't look any different or maybe it did... I don't know. and the memory of that night flooded into my mind, of him finishing burying himself inside me as I rode him, "No... no no no.... I'm gonna kill him..." I whined grabbing my dress and hurrying as fast as my feet could to the hospital rushing up to his room without a word. But I froze up as I saw his door- 

to think of all that had happened, How I stormed out, I'd returned once and clearly that was an awful mistake I- didn't exactly feel thrilled I was returning yet again. but I knocked and soon enough he pulled it open.

"Oh, its you. What can I do for you?" He asked fixing his waistcoat

"I need you." I told him rushing into his room

"Uhh okay" He nods shutting his door with a wicked smile "So... Shall I repeat our last night my darling?"

"No." I snapped "I need your... medical, Intervention"

"my medical intervention?"

"Yes."

"You realize patients have to wait in the waiting room you know, you can't just come up to a doctor's bedroom to get seen faster, even if it is you."

"Jack. Please." I told him fear in my voice tears in my eyes and he melted his own panic set in 

"What is it?"

"I am... so very scared Jack."

"Alright just sit down, tell me what's wrong," he said helping me to sit on his bed 

"My monthly time is late."

"Alright, well such thing can happen you have been stressed these few weeks" He explained nervously pacing around his room as I spoke 

"Over a month."

"Perhaps simple change in your cycle" 

"I have been vomiting." 

"A bad fish may have simply turned your stomach," he said his fear growing as he too was coming to the conclusion I had already suspected but he didn't want it to be true, he didn't want to believe me, 

"My waist grows... Inch by inch. Almost weekly. gaining speed steadily"

"Bloating. could simply-"

"Jack. I might be pregnant." 

"You might." He nods "It could be a million other-"

"I. Might be pregnant." I told him getting to my feet "By the grace of god I need to know." 

"I'd need to track your cycle completely, and I don't have that information."

"You had it as up to date as I did until I left and I haven't bleed since so-"

"Well, how do I know what you've been doing?" He glared So I slapped him and he adjusted his jaw a little "How am I to know who the father is?"

"You." I said and the colour drained from his skin "I have never been touched by another man as long as I have lived. If I am pregnant... It is yours. or it is gods." 

"It can't be mine. I always-"

"Not always, Our last evening together..."

"Fuck-" He gasped "I have thought of that night a hundred times, your right. I didn't"

"So, Doctor. What do we do?" 

"I need a rabbit." He sighed 

I had to return to the hospital, to Jack twice daily once in the morning, once at night and each day, for three days, and I had to drink a whole jug of water and well... expel it. and this was the final time. 

"There, Now will we know?" I asked 

"Yes. we should do" He said as he took it in a firm needle "shhh shhh there's a good girl" He cooed to the little rabbit on the table, I had since after all these days named her hoppy, and he injected her "Five minutes" he said 

"I do not understand how these things work" I sighed 

"You want me to explain?"

"Not really."

"Fair enough." He said turning to his tools a moment and grabbing a large knife 

"Jack- What are you doing!"

"Finding out" He began moving quickly to-

"No!" I yelped stopping him "Jack! that's barbaric." 

"I have been injecting her with your urine for the last three days, if her ovaries are enlarged and she has gone into heat then you are pregnant, if she hasn't you are not."

"Is there no way to check without killing her?"

"No. now do you want to know or not?" 

"There must be a simpler way."

"Yes, there is. we wait nine months and see if a baby pops out of you."

"You know we can't do that. but that doesn't mean I allow you to butcher an innocent animal"

We both stopped a moment as hoppy moved a little and began humping the blanket she sat on aggressively 

"I'd say she's in heat"

"I need to check. for sure."

"Fine" I sighed 

"I'll be quick, painless" he said making quick work of killing the poor thing before then cutting it open to examine her 

"And?"

".... her ovaries are Enlarged. Extremely so. She is in heat." He said dropping his knife on the table 

"So..."

"You're pregnant." 

"... I see." I nodded my hands settling on my stomach in absolute fear but Jack took my face in his hand and sweetly kissed me sending blood across my skin, till he pulled back stroking his nose on mine as he always used to

"This is the happiest news you could have given me."

"Happy? Jack, I am pregnant out of wedlock. My father will banish me, society will crucify me, and our child will suffer as a bastard all of its life." I explained, "What am I to do?" 

"I know exactly what you are to do. Take back my ring."

"What?"

"Take back my ring, return our lives to how they were, before my mistake, marry me by the end of the week and we, can raise our child together. As husband and wife," 

"We cannot-"

"Why not?"

"I already told my father of our cancelled engagement"

"Then tell him it was nothing but a lovers tiff. and that all is as it was." He said "I still love you, I still want us to be together, I still want to marry you. and I want us to raise our child together. Please. You cannot expect me to let you go again, I made that mistake once letting you walk away from me, I am not foolish enough to allow it again, especially not while my child grows in your womb" 

"You can not simply expect me to trust you again Jack."

"I'm not. I'm asking you to let me earn it back." He said, "Please Y/n." 

"Yes" I gasped

"You-"

"Yes Jack."

"Y/n... my darling" He cooed pulling me back to his lips. 

[vestaignis]

PHLYCTENACTIS TUBERCULOSA.

Phlyctenactis tuberculosa, широко известная как блуждающая морская актиния или плавающая актиния, является видом морских анемонов семейства актиний. Она произрастает в мелководных морях вокруг Австралии и Новой Зеландии, а также встречается в Чили. Впервые была описана французским зоологом Жаном Рене Константом Куа и французским натуралистом Жозефом Полем Геймаром. Они были военно-морскими хирургами французского флота, которые собрали значительные коллекции различных организмов во время путешествий.

Эта актиния покрыта пузырчатыми мешочками и бывает разных цветов: от коричневато-оранжевого, лилового, светло-серого до коричневого. Щупальца светлее и могут быть бледно-желтого, серого, коричневого или оранжево-желтого цвета. Она вырастает до максимального размера 15 сантиметров (6 дюймов) в диаметре ,со стеблем, который может достигать 25 сантиметров (10 дюймов) в длину. В течение дня блуждающая морская актиния остается скрученной вместе, выглядя как шар из печеных бобов.

Этот ночной вид актинии, обитает на открытых побережьях и среди защищенных коралловых рифов на глубине до 35 метров. Он прикрепляется к камням, морским травам и водорослям, но может отцепить свой педальный диск и обычно дрейфует по морскому дну. Плавающая актиния передвигается по морскому дну, ползая с помощью своего базального диска, а ночью взбирается на морские травы или водоросли, чтобы найти лучшее место для перехвата проплывающей мимо добычи.

Странствующий морской анемон ядовит, и прикосновение к щупальцам может вызвать болезненный укус. Пловцам рекомендуется избегать прикосновений к анемону и надевать защитную одежду.

Phlyctenactis tuberculosa, commonly known as the wandering sea anemone or floating anemone, is a species of sea anemone in the family Anemoneidae. It is native to shallow seas around Australia and New Zealand, and is also found in Chile. It was first described by the French zoologist Jean René Constant Coix and the French naturalist Joseph Paul Gaymard. They were naval surgeons in the French Navy who made significant collections of various organisms during their voyages.

This anemone is covered in bladder-like sacs and comes in a variety of colors, from brownish-orange, lilac, light gray, to brown. The tentacles are lighter and can be pale yellow, gray, brown, or orange-yellow. It grows to a maximum size of 15 centimetres (6 in) in diameter, with a stalk that can reach 25 centimetres (10 in) in length. During the day, the wandering sea anemone remains coiled together, looking like a ball of baked beans.

This nocturnal species of sea anemone lives on exposed coastlines and among sheltered coral reefs at depths of up to 35 metres (115 ft). It attaches itself to rocks, sea grasses and seaweed, but can detach its pedal disc and usually drifts along the sea floor. The floating anemone moves along the sea floor by crawling with its basal disc, and at night climbs onto sea grasses or seaweed to find the best place to intercept passing prey.

The wandering sea anemone is venomous, and touching its tentacles can cause a painful sting. Swimmers are advised to avoid touching the anemone and to wear protective clothing.

Источник://t.me/+E4YBiErj0A8wOGUy,/collections.museumsvictoria.com.au/species/8618,/atlasoflife.org.au/creaturefeatures/2021/01/07/an-early-brief-snorkel,/www.reeflex.net/tiere/8754_Phlyctenactis _ tuberculosa.htm,//www.realmonstrosities.com/2015/01/wandering-sea-anemone.html,//shapeandtheidea.wordpress.com /2015/10/11 / wandering-anemone/,/animalia.bio/index.php/phlyctenactis-tuberculosa.

[scotianostra]

October 4th 1716 saw the birth of Scottish physician James Lind

Born in Edinburgh in to a family of merchants, Lind was educated at the Royal High School.

In 1731, aged 15 he registered as an apprentice at the College of Surgeons in Edinburgh and in 1739 became a surgeon's mate, seeing service around the world in the Navy.

James Lind is remembered as the man who helped to conquer a killer disease. His reported experiment on board a naval ship in 1747 showed that oranges and lemons were a cure for scurvy, he selected 12 men from the ship, all suffering from scurvy, and divided them into six pairs, giving each group different additions to their basic diet. Some were given cider, others seawater, others a mixture of garlic, mustard and horseradish. Another group of two were given spoonfuls of vinegar, and the last two oranges and lemons. Those fed citrus fruits experienced a remarkable recovery. While there was nothing new about his discovery - the benefits of lime juice had been known for centuries - Lind had definitively established the superiority of citrus fruits above all other 'remedies'.

In 1748, Lind retired from the navy and went to Edinburgh University to take professional qualifications. In 1753, he published 'A Treatise of the Scurvy' and in 1757 'An Essay on the Most Effectual Means of Preserving the Health of Seamen in the Royal Navy', which threw much light on the appalling living conditions and diet of seamen. In 1758, he was appointed physician to the Naval Hospital at Haslar in Gosport where he investigated the distillation of fresh water from salt water for supply to ships.

Although the importance of Lind's findings on scurvy were recognised at the time, it was not until more than 40 years later that an official Admiralty order was issued on the supply of lemon juice to ships. With this, scurvy disappeared almost completely from the Royal Navy.

[she-is-ovarit]

By Sean Coughlan

BBC News

A diary written by a Yorkshire farmer more than 200 years ago is being hailed as providing remarkable evidence of tolerance towards homosexuality in Britain much earlier than previously imagined.

Historians from Oxford University have been taken aback to discover that Matthew Tomlinson's diary from 1810 contains such open-minded views about same-sex attraction being a "natural" human tendency.

The diary challenges preconceptions about what "ordinary people" thought about homosexuality - showing there was a debate about whether someone really should be discriminated against for their sexuality.

"In this exciting new discovery, we see a Yorkshire farmer arguing that homosexuality is innate and something that shouldn't be punished by death," says Oxford researcher Eamonn O'Keeffe.

The diaries were handwritten by Tomlinson in the farmhouse where he lived and worked

The historian had been examining Tomlinson's handwritten diaries, which have been stored in Wakefield Library since the 1950s.

The thousands of pages of the private journals have never been transcribed and previously used by researchers interested in Tomlinson's eye-witness accounts of elections in Yorkshire and the Luddites smashing up machinery.

But O'Keeffe came across what seemed, for the era of George III, to be a rather startling set of arguments about same-sex relationships.

Tomlinson had been prompted by what had been a big sex scandal of the day - in which a well-respected naval surgeon had been found to be engaging in homosexual acts.

Historian Eamonn O'Keeffe says the diaries provide a rare insight into the views of "ordinary people" in the early 1800s

A court martial had ordered him to be hanged - but Tomlinson seemed unconvinced by the decision, questioning whether what the papers called an "unnatural act" was really that unnatural.

Tomlinson argued, from a religious perspective, that punishing someone for how they were created was equivalent to saying that there was something wrong with the Creator.

"It must seem strange indeed that God Almighty should make a being with such a nature, or such a defect in nature; and at the same time make a decree that if that being whom he had formed, should at any time follow the dictates of that Nature, with which he was formed, he should be punished with death," he wrote on January 14 1810.

If there was an "inclination and propensity" for someone to be homosexual from an early age, he wrote, "it must then be considered as natural, otherwise as a defect in nature - and if natural, or a defect in nature; it seems cruel to punish that defect with death".

The diarist makes reference to being informed by others that homosexuality is apparent from an early age - suggesting that Tomlinson and his social circle had been talking about this case and discussing something that was not unknown to them.

Around this time, and also in West Yorkshire, a local landowner, Anne Lister, was writing a coded diary about her lesbian relationships - with her story told in the television series, Gentleman Jack.

But knowing what "ordinary people" really thought about such behaviour is always difficult - not least because the loudest surviving voices are usually the wealthy and powerful.

What has excited academics is the chance to eavesdrop on an everyday farmer thinking aloud in his diary.

Tomlinson was appalled by the levels of corruption during elections

"What's striking is that he's an ordinary guy, he's not a member of the bohemian circles or an intellectual," says O'Keeffe, a doctoral student in Oxford's history faculty.

An acceptance of homosexuality might have been expressed privately in aristocratic or philosophically radical circles - but this was being discussed by a rural worker.

"It shows opinions of people in the past were not as monolithic as we might think," says O'Keeffe, who is originally from Canada.

"Even though this was a time of persecution and intolerance towards same-sex relationships, here's an ordinary person who is swimming against the current and sees what he reads in the paper and questions those assumptions."

Claire Pickering, library manager in Wakefield, says she imagines the single-minded Tomlinson speaking the words with a Yorkshire accent.

There are three volumes of Tomlinson's diaries at Wakefield Library

He was a man with a "hungry mind", she says, someone who listened to a lot of people's opinions before forming his own conclusions.

The diary, presumably compiled after a hard day's work, was his way of being a writer and commentator when otherwise "that wasn't his station in life", she says.

O'Keeffe says it shows ideas were "percolating through British society much earlier and more widely than we'd expect" - with the diary working through the debates that Tomlinson might have been having with his neighbours.

But these were still far from modern liberal views - and O'Keeffe says they can be extremely "jarring" arguments.

If someone was homosexual by choice, rather than by nature, Tomlinson was ready to consider that they should still be punished - proposing castration as a more moderate option than the death penalty.

Tomlinson's former home was still there in the 1930s (bottom left), but has since disappeared beneath housing and a golf course

O'Keeffe says discovering evidence of these kinds of debate has both "enriched and complicated" what we know about public opinion in this pre-Victorian era.

The diary is raising international interest.

Prof Fara Dabhoiwala, from Princeton University in the US, an expert in the history of attitudes towards sexuality, describes it as "vivid proof" that "historical attitudes to same-sex behaviour could be more sympathetic than is usually presumed".

Instead of seeing homosexuality as a "horrible perversion", Prof Dabholwala says the record showed a farmer in 1810 could see it as a "natural, divinely ordained human quality".

Rictor Norton, an expert in gay history, said there had been earlier arguments defending homosexuality as natural - but these were more likely to be from philosophers than farmers.

"It is extraordinary to find an ordinary, casual observer in 1810 seriously considering the possibility that sexuality is innate and making arguments for decriminalisation," says Dr Norton.

Who was the writer of this diary?

Matthew Tomlinson was a widower, in his 40s when he wrote his journal in 1810 - a man of a "middling" class, not a poor labourer but not rich enough to own his own land.

"I try and imagine how he would have looked," says library manager Ms Pickering.

There are no pictures of Tomlinson, who is thought to have lived between about 1770 and 1850.

"Very dour," she suggests. And a "bit of a hypochondriac".

There are thousands of pages of handwritten journals - but some volumes appear to have been lost

"I imagine if you stopped him at his gate for a chat he'd talk about his gout more than anything else.

"I'd love to have a conversation with him about what Wakefield was like at the time," she says.

No-one knows how these private diaries, covering 1806 to 1839, ended up in Wakefield Library, but they were there by the 1950s and are presumed to be part of an earlier acquisition of old books and local documents.

There are three surviving volumes and at least another eight are missing.

But they show vivid detail about life in Wakefield in the early 19th Century.

Tomlinson, from his home at Doghouse Farm, recorded the life of nearby Wakefield

During elections, Tomlinson was appalled by the corruption, the rum drinkers having to be carried home in wheelbarrows and the "hired ruffians".

And at Queen Victoria's coronation he was sceptical about expensive ceremonies and celebrations, calling them all "humbug".

This was not a closed world. His social circle seemed to be avid readers of books and newspapers, following reports of revolutions abroad and riots and insurrections at home.

They saw elephants marching through Wakefield in a circus parade and military bands who had competed to hire the most talented black musicians.

We know where he lived - Doghouse Farm in Lupset, because he carefully wrote it on the front of his journals.

The farm, at the edge of the landowner's estate, is now under a housing estate and a golf course. All that survives are his diaries.

[ltwilliammowett]

Naval Surgeon's medicine chest, belonging to surgeon Sir Benjamin F. Outram (1774-1856) and reputedly used at the battle of Copenhagen 1801

Outram was first employed in the naval medical service in 1794, and was promoted to the rank of surgeon in 1796. He served in HMS Harpy, HMS La Nymphe, and HMS Boadicea. He was surgeon in HMS Superb in the second battle of Algeciras, where Sir James Saumarez obtained a victory over the French and Spanish fleets on 12 July 1801. He received war medals and clasps for his services under Sir Richard Goodwin Keats. Then for a period he was surgeon to the royal yacht, HMS Royal Sovereign.

In 1806, with a view to private practice, Outram went to Edinburgh, and there graduated doctor of medicine on 24 June 1809. He was admitted a licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians of London on 16 April 1810, and then began as a physician at Hanover Square in London, where he lived more than 40 years. He acted as physician to the Welbeck Street Dispensary. On 3 May 1838 he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society; he also became an early member of the Royal Geographical Society.

In 1841 Outram became medical inspector of her Majesty's fleets and hospitals. He was appointed Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath (KCB) on 17 September 1850, and was admitted a fellow of the Royal College of Physicians on 9 July 1852. He died at Brighton on 16 February 1856, and was buried at Clifton, Bristol.

[clove-pinks]

Please give me all the knowledge of war of 1812 naval surgeons!!! My 1805 doctor would greatly profit from knowledge from future and the new world

For the specific knowledge of War of 1812 surgeons, you could turn to a respected medical textbook of the time, Medicina Nautica by Thomas Trotter. It's a little dry to read from cover to cover, but you can find interesting takes on nautical medicine. On pp. 111-113 Trotter argues against the 15 shilling fine charged to sailors with venereal disease, which caused men to hide their illness and turn to dangerous quack remedies.

A great open-source article that explores what type of medical treatment was deliberately sought by sailors and expected by them is Treating, Preventing, Feigning, Concealing: Sickness, Agency and the Medical Culture of the British Naval Seaman at the End of the Long Eighteenth Century by Sara Caputo. It even opens with the battle of HMS Shannon vs. USS Chesapeake! Naval sailors had a surprising amount of agency in seeking medical care, despite their very regulated lives, and Caputo argues that "naval doctors had to foster an atmosphere of trust and support rather than punishment—because their care remained an option among many."

[fairwellersmustache]

Thinking about a Leverage Regency AU and how easy it would be…

The place is London. The year is 18—

Rev. Nathaniel Ford: a disgraced Irish vicar. (Sorry Nate, I couldn’t make the Catholicism work; you’re a Protestant now 😔✊) Fell out with God after losing his son, Samuel. Then he subsequently fell out with his patron, an Earl, who would not fund an expensive surgeon for Sam’s care, and finally with his wife, Margaret. Displaced from his station, his credibility, and power as an agent to nobility, Nate moves quietly to London, hoping to realize his revenge or to drink himself to death - whichever comes first. His parish is now being preached to by a Rev. James Sterling.

Mrs. Sophie Devereaux: a spy through and through. She might actually be a duchess, but didn’t you see her in that terrible play on Drury Lane? No one’s really sure. In society, she’s viewed as an eccentric and slightly mysterious salon hostess, but that cover allowed her to play the British and the French governments throughout the end of the 18th century. A metropolitan girl at heart, she’ll never be found in the country unless planning to procure a particular pièce d’art from one of the gaudy estate manors there.

Mr. Elliot Spencer: began his career at 9, as a cabin boy for a naval vessel. He saw the world twice over, but also witnessed the cruel hierarchy between officers and sailors first hand. He roved through the navy and the army doing little more than grunt work, but studied the martial and combat techniques of every place he went. Now he’s just trying to live the quiet life in London as a bruiser for hire.

Mr. Alec Hardison: a man who has lived many lives —aided, of course, by his job as a private banker, moving around the wealth of London at his leisure. In his line of work, he has picked up the ins and outs of all the governing bodies and businesses in the empire. Add that to his virtuosic ability to pick up any form of study and Mr. Hardison could bleed London dry, given the right reasons. For now, he enjoys the high life thanks to the fortunes of his “betters”.

Parker: an urchin, a waif, the stickiest of fingers in the nicest of neighborhoods. Once the apprentice of the notorious criminal, Lord Archibald Leech, the Gentleman’s Thief, she’s since left his tutelage and is now operating unseen in the big houses of Grosvenor Square as a scullery maid, putting enough bits and bobs aside to graduate from service and to never look back again.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

i’d never even considered how the civil war would affect alfred during ww1, that’s a really interesting idea. would you mind expanding a bit more if you haven’t already?

fuck yes I can expand on that. TW for historic nastiness.

Okay to prelude— I don't typically do 1:1 state/gov to character but considering the cession of the south into a separate state and the US itself is the Union, my boy is in blue. In this blog's universe there is no schizophrenia or split personality or Doppelgänger or any other representation of the south. It gutted him and he lost feeling in a lot of his usual area and it severely weakened him but he represented the United States and that means union blue. And considering the north really doesn't have all that much moral leverage on the south especially in matters of racism, it's not much of a jump. If you aren't crazy about that, look away now.

So. Trench warfare. It's as old as humans bashing each other's heads in. Defensive ditches are an archaeological feature across the applicable world. But it's the American Civil War that might hold the gold medal for largest gap between how technology designed to kill had advanced spectacularly over any innovation that might save lives. I won't say deadliest because you do have the Taiping Rebellion around the same time but a lot of that was sièges and counter sieges and river based naval engagements. But anyway— rifled artillery and direct fire techniques had changed the game and soldiers were driven underground behind parapets and sandbags. Around Petersburg especially. And it's towards the end of the war when the Confederacy is increasingly desperate and hand to hand fighting is getting more common and more brutal. Entire regiments were lost in hand to hand mêlée. And if a soldier didn't die instantly, it was off to a field hospital. Guts ripped open by iron shells, lungs hanging from the tips of bayonets, wounds so infected they glowed, limbs hacked off by a surgeon who hadn't washed his hands in six days and sepsis rot so foul someone can taste it on the air even with the mouth closed. Malaria and typhoid so fucking bad the army cots would literally shake apart from how bad men shivered when the chills aspect of the fever cycle hit. I know it's fashionable right now especially on vintage fashion YouTube to say people in history weren't disgusting but like, I've been in archives for years. Yeah it fucken was. Never was medicine so far behind the ability to kill.

So Alfred's probably died a solid dozen times half of which from shitting himself because he's probably riddled with parasites. He's been shot, stabbed, slashed. Shaken, rattled and absolutely steam rolled. And the final part of his almighty trauma is this is happening just up the river from where he was born in Jamestown. Alfred is on his belly in the earth beneath the feet of the people that bore him and then rejected him, begging his Protestant God and any of his own people listening and the very earth itself to protect him, to keep him alive as shell after shell lands around him.

When every battle is over, the dead rot in piles across the fields and trenches. The famous photos of the Antietam and Gettysburg dead are days old, you can see some of the bodies had been looted. There were so many dead and so many dying that upon its tardy entrance into world war one, the US had a more coherent body management and disposal program than any other of the entente powers. Who had already been at war for nearly four years.

So yeah, in my opinion he got ten steps into a front line trench where the British and especially the French were just causally walking on bodies, he vomited so hard New York felt California rattling around in there and said fuck it. My boy was either off to cleaner pastures like Belleau Wood or the air corps. It was too much too soon and he just couldn't keep it together in those conditions. They knew what bacteria were by WW1 and he was a burgeoning world power. So he probably only went full himbo with dysentery twice in France so it wasn't as bad as his civil war flop era but oof. That smell, the screams, pressing himself into soil that is not his own yet again is too recent and too vulnerable. He can't do it again so soon.

[ereardon]

At Sea [Bob Floyd x Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever. 

Pairing: Navy Doctor Bob Floyd x Female Aviator Reader

Warnings: Implied emotional cheating, lots of Naval inaccuracies

WC: 2.3K

Masterlist here

When you first stepped onto the ship, you didn’t notice him. You were too caught up with the running list of checklist items in your head. 

Is your bag too big? Did you bring enough pairs of underwear? Were there enough officers for a carrier of this size? What was the threat level of the mission? Were you wrong to say yes? 

You looked down. The two carat oval engagement ring glinted back. The ring you had dreamed about since you were a teen and first saw a similar one on a debutante. 

You just weren’t sure that the man who had purchased it was the man you had been dreaming of. 

Connor proposed three weeks before the carrier run. The two of you had met almost two years before, at a museum opening. He was a prince, for a while. But at some point, and it’s different for every relationship, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin. The prince becomes a pauper. The tux has to be returned to avoid a late fee. 

You had expected magic. And then you joined the Navy and reality set in. You were no longer the bright eyed Louisiana girl who believed in fairytales and princes. You were an aviator who witnessed death up close. 

When Connor placed the ring on your finger, nothing stood out. Tears didn’t choke your line of vision. Your hands didn’t shake, your stomach didn’t cramp, your pulse didn’t raise. 

The only thing that happened was you hesitated. For a split second, but a hesitation nonetheless. 

And then you smiled and nodded. 

And with that, you belonged to him. 

***

You grabbed the first bunk and tossed your bag on it. A five-week mission with barely any service, except for satellites. It feels wrong, but a part of you was relieved knowing Connor couldn’t contact you. 

At dinner, you entered the mess hall and sat at a table toward the middle when a round of laughter erupted from near the doors and you turned to look. 

There was a group of five men, all attractive in the way that large groups of men can be intimidating from afar. Four brunettes and a blond with wire glasses. Of the brunettes, three were wearing wedding rings that glinted beneath the fluorescent lights. Scoping out wedding rings had become a habit about ten years before, right before you left for college. 

And now, you were the one carting around the ring that said, Don’t talk to me. I’m taken. 

You must have been staring, because the blond turned and looked at you for a moment, the two of you locking eyes before you began to panic and ripped your gaze down to the overmixed mashed potatoes on your plate. When you looked up again, he had turned away. 

Later, once everything had been cleaned and your introductory meetings for the day had been complete, you found yourself wandering on the ship deck. The water was calm. You rested your fingertips on the rail and peered down. The blackness of the sky mixed with the blackness of the deep water, and on the horizon it isn’t clear where one ends and the other begins. You never liked water all that much. It’s why you chose to be in the skies instead. The deep ocean and how at night on a ship light this, you and the crew were the only ones for miles – the thought terrified you. 

It took a moment in the darkness to realize that the blond from the mess was standing not ten feet away, leaning on the rail and looking down at the water. It wasn’t until he sighed that you realized he was on a satellite phone. 

“Those aren’t good. Run another panel and let me know how it looks. Get back to me as soon as the blood work is done.” 

You heard the click of the phone just as you locked eyes. You gave him a quick smile before turning back to the water. He rested his head into his arms and let out a loud breath. 

After a moment, he lifted his head and said, “It’s not fair, you know.” 

You pushed yourself up off the rail and turned to him. “What?” 

“The fact that kids get sick. If an adult gets sick when they’re seventy or even forty, I feel bad, but it’s not the same. They’ve had lives. They got to grow up and find out what hobbies make them happiest. They fall in love, get married.” You noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. Instinctively, you felt for your ring with your thumb, the diamond pressed against the fleshy part of your palm. It was too big, and you hadn’t gotten it resized. Unconsciously, you slipped your hand inside your pocket. “But kids,” he continued. “They haven’t really experienced anything yet. They have so much more to lose.” 

You gave him a quick once over. He was obviously distraught. He gave you a tight smile. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I must sound crazy to you. Just going off to a complete stranger. I promise, I’m not dangerous and I never really talk this much.” 

“I don’t mind,” you replied. “I don’t think you’re crazy. And out here, nobody can really be strangers for long.” 

He nodded and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he muled your words. After a moment, he looked over at you and you felt my heart start to race as his blue eyes smoothed over your face. The two of you were less than six feet apart now. Somewhere during the conversation one of you had moved closer, or both of you had. You weren't sure who made the move first. “Well I’m sorry, again, for interrupting you. I’ll let you be.” He made no move to leave.

You tilted your head. “Don’t worry about it. It can get pretty lonely out here. I don’t mind the conversation.” 

He was still looking at you so intensely that you had to look away. He was difficult to read. But the way his large hands were gripping the railing made you want to reach out and brush your hand over his and tell him it was going to be OK. To calm down. To relax.

He gave you a small smile. “Goodnight, then.” He had a long gait, neat. No uniform. 

You wondered what he thought of you. Sloppy, to say the least. Hair in a bun, pajama bottoms dragging down over ratty sneakers. 

Along the horizon, you spotted the light of another ship, barely visible in the thick darkness. Some reassurance that others were out there. 

***

On the second night, you were standing in nearly the same spot on the railing, hands pressed against the cold metal, peering over at the churning waves. The water was rockier, angry. It lept against the side of the ship. 

You heard his footsteps before he was within your line of sight. 

“Hello again.” 

You turned, the slight lick of wetness beneath the fabric of your sleeve. On a ship, everything is wet all the time. It’s nearly impossible to stay dry. “It’s you.” 

He took his spot next to you against the rail, closer this time. You reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, silently sending up a prayer that you had put in an ounce of effort that night. It had been an educated guess he would come. 

A part of you hoped he would, however terrible that was to admit. 

“Can I ask what you’re doing here?” he asked. 

“Here, as in the deck at midnight? Or here on the ship?” 

“Both. Either.” The edges of a bright white smile shone through soft pink lips. “Neither, if you don’t want to talk to a stranger. Whatever you’d like to tell me. I’m a bit starved for conversation. It’s been a quiet day down in the sick bay.” 

So he was med corps. That tracked. 

“You seemed rich with conversation in the mess last night,” you blurted out. Regret flowed through your veins instantly and you wanted to smack yourself for letting onto the fact that you had been watching him. 

He gave a small laugh. It was rough and deep and forced a layer of goosebumps on your arms. “They’re good guys. But they can be a lot.” 

You tilted your head, waiting for him to fill the empty space. But he simply gazed out at the azure waves, letting silence envelop the two of you. 

“To answer your question of what brings me here,” you said, “why don’t you give me your best guess.” 

You could feel his stare all the way to the marrow of your bones. The way his eyes gently rolled over your hair, down your face, across your chest, over your abdomen, all the way to your feet. You felt a tingle work its way through your body. “Intelligence?” he guessed. 

You shook your head. 

“Engineering?” 

“Nope.” 

“OK I give up,” he said with a small grin. 

“I’m an aviator.” He blinked in disbelief. “You’re surprised?” 

“Honestly?” he asked. “Yes. You look really young to be on this carrier as an aviator.” 

“I’m twenty eight. Not sure that’s considered young.” 

He groaned. “Trust me, it’s young.” 

“So how old does that make you?” 

“Thirty five.” 

“God, ancient.” You watched him grimace. “Being a grandpa suits you.” 

“People are living to one hundred now, easily. I’m young by those standards.” 

My eyes scanned him top to bottom. He was taller than me, with thick blond hair combed evenly to one side, soft blue eyes behind a pair of thin wire glasses. Nerdy in an unassuming way, but there was an energy that radiated from him. 

“OK, my turn to ask questions,” you said and his lips twitched into a smile. “What brings you here?” 

“The ship or the deck?” he teased. 

“Either.” 

“If we’re talking about the ship – I’m a doctor. Peds. Someone had to drop out last minute and I got called in. That phone call you overheard last night was about one of my patients back home. I didn’t know I’d be here. Didn’t realize I’d be gone so long without seeing him.”

A doctor. You had suspected, but it fit. The sympathetic eyes, the large steady hands. The way he made you feel calm without even saying anything. 

“As for the deck,” he continued, “what if I said it was because I thought maybe I wouldn’t have to be alone tonight?” 

“Presumptuous,” you whispered. 

“A bit,” he murmured, round cheeks turning pink, “considering we’re not even on a first name basis.” 

You told him your name and he smiled. 

“I’m Bob,” he replied. “Bob Floyd.” 

“See? Now we’re not strangers.” 

He smiled, wire glasses sliding down his nose and he pressed them up with one fingertip. Behind him, a few security lights casted thin yellow halos, and you could make out the faint shape of a person on the other end of the long, flat deck. It couldn’t be more than forty degrees out, and you shivered in your thin jacket. “Are you cold?” he asked. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, and in doing so realized you left the engagement ring back in the bunk after your morning shower. It had yet to become a habit to wear it. After twenty eight years with an empty finger, it’s an adjustment to slip on a ring every day and let it be one fact that the world knows about you before you even open your mouth. 

Bob shrugged off his jacket, a black Patagonia puffer, and held it out. “Here,” he said softly, blushing again like he was embarrassed to be offering it. “Please? I’d feel really guilty for monopolizing your time and keeping you cold while doing it.” 

You smiled and he held out the jacket as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. Bob’s hands lingered on the coat for a moment before dropping as he backed away. “Thank you.” His scent surrounds you – a warm woodsy pine, mixed with the sharp mint of toothpaste. 

You tapped your fingers on the rail, desperately racking your brain for something to say to continue the conversation. 

“What brought you out here tonight?” Bob’s deep, throaty voice punctuated the silence. 

“I’m not sure, honestly,” you replied. “I think I prefer to be out here as opposed to being in there.” His eyes followed your gaze to the cabin door. 

“I get that,” he replied. “Not a fan of small spaces either.” 

“There’s something about the ship at night that I really like. It’s quiet.” 

He gave you a sideways glance. “Sorry to be interrupting your quiet time.” 

“Trust me, I’ve had enough of that already and it’s only been two days.” 

“Where are you getting off?” 

“Pensacola.” 

“Quite a trip.” 

“Always is,” you replied. “Not really what I thought I was signing up for.” 

“It never is,” Bob added. 

You turned around, pressing your arms against the railing and propping up one foot. You watched as Bob ran one hand across the corner of his mouth before shoving it in his khaki pocket. The Atlantic wind penetrated Bob’s jacket and your shift, nipping at your skin. “You said you came up here hoping you wouldn’t have to be alone. Were you looking for me?” 

Your words are tossed out into the open like a gunshot. 

Bob stilled for a moment and you half expect him to make an excuse to leave. To avoid answering. But then he opens his mouth. “Yes.” 

That’s it. One word. Simple and complex at once. He is honest and raw in a way you’ve seen with very few men up until that point. A younger man would find a way to deflect. A smarter girl would have asked in a more coy way. Understated. Neither of which you excelled at. You’ve always been too pushy, too bold, too forward. 

“Why?” you pressed, embarrassed by how badly a part of you wanted this near stranger to want you. The neediness was unbecoming. And despite the fact that he was a stranger, you wanted Bob’s approval. It felt like an Olympic medal you had been chasing your entire life. 

“You were so kind last night,” he said, voice dipping down into a whisper. “I just, I wanted to learn more about the person who was nice to a complete stranger. That felt like someone worth knowing.” 

“You’re sweet.” 

Bob blushed and it spread to the tips of his ears. You could feel Bob’s gaze linger for a beat too long before he, too, turned back out toward the open, angry sea. 

“I should probably get to bed.” You stepped away from the railing, unzipping the jacket and handing it back to him. Instead of putting it on, he folded it over one forearm. 

Bob smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Part of you wants more. Maybe it’s the chill of the wind and the sudden loss of warmth from his coat. Perhaps it’s your future, looming ahead. The unknown. Dark and uncharted, like the water the boat is struggling against. 

You wonder what Bob is thinking. His blue eyes searching yours, evaluating your next move. 

“Goodnight.” As you make your way inside, you resist the urge to turn around and see if he’s watching you walk away. 

A part of you knows that he is. 

Lying in the bunk, the cool dampness of the sheets on your skin, you curse yourself. What are you doing? You have a fiance at home. You have a life at stake. 

But who is to say that if you had met Bob before Connor that you wouldn’t fall into the same trap. Maybe every relationship is bound for it, eventually. Everyone boards a train headed in the same direction. There is no basis to say that one relationship is inherently more exciting than another. There’s every reason to believe that it’s because you grow older, more set in your ways. You get busier, drink more, have less sex, watch more TV, spend more time apart. That might just be life. And no matter how strong the butterflies are, it’ll eventually route back to that same destination. The end of the butterfly period, where everything turns into the inevitable. 

But that doesn’t explain why the last thing that crosses your mind before you fall asleep is Bob’s soft face, smiling at you from behind his wire frames. 

And how part of you can already feel him slipping away. 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary

Tagging some people who I think may like this (but feel free to message me and say you're not interested and I won't tag you going forward!): @blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @horseshoegirl @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @spinning-away @bvbfloyd @startrekfangirl2233-writes @shanimallina87 @xoxabs88xox @xomrsalliej4787xo @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @thedroneranger @gigisimsonmars @fanficfandomlove @callsign-magnolia @sometimesanalice @stargazer-88 @tomanybandstolove @laracrofted @iangiemae @teacupsandtopgun @palepeanutponyshoe @mrsjobarnes @desert-fern

[faustandfurious]

Master and Commander liveblog: Chapters 3-4

Finally some details on the Maturin-Dillon awkwardness/hostility

The casual hilarity of Stephen getting The Landlubber's Introduction To Sailing by Mowett who crammed everything in preparation for his lieutenant's exam, while simultaneously being stressed out about Dillon

Narratively I think it was an absolute necessity to have one of the protagonists know nothing about naval matters, so that O'Brian could explain the ship's anatomy and physiology to the reader without making it sound like forced exposition

Jack being cluelessly, equal-opportunities xenophobic because he hates paperwork is hilariously on brand, even if it makes things a bit awkward for poor Stephen who has to explain the religious-political landscape of Ireland to him

Note to self to read up on the United Irishmen

There's a lot of subtext in the interactions between Stephen and Dillon at dinner, but I think it boils down to "I'll keep my mouth shut about your past if you keep your mouth shut about mine"

"'It's odd how the law always harps upon the unnaturalness of sodomy,' observed Stephen. 'Though I know at least two judges who are pæderasts; and of course barristers ...'" I just think it's neat that within the first three chapters we have established that both our protagonists are relatively non-homophobic in a way that still feels authentic for the time period

Side note: As far as shipping goes, I enjoy certain aspects of Aubrey/Maturin as a romantic ship, but I'm also perfectly fine with them being entirely platonic. Regardless, the deep and mutual affection between them is the absolute highlight of the series

The way Jack is so fond of Stephen even when, and especially when, he betrays his complete ignorance of how a ship works

The Norwegian vessel, Dorthe Engelbrechtsdatter, should more correctly be called Dorothe Engelbretsdatter, but this is just me being nitpicky

As the events are happening in 1800, Denmark-Norway is still neutral and trading with both Britain and France. Denmark-Norway would later join the war on the side of Napoleon after being attacked by the British in 1801 and 1807, and their defeat in 1814 would ultimately lead to the writing of a Norwegian Constitution and a more equal-partners union between Norway and Sweden that would be dissolved peacefully in 1905. So really, Napoleon was the catalyst for the process leading to Norwegian independence

Finally some action

Stephen has to go into the other room to read up on medicine so his patients won't notice that he's learning this stuff along the way. Extremely relatable doctor moment tbh

"He stepped down from the rail, craning his head out sideways to bleed to windward, while his right hand sheltered his precious epaulette from the flow" wheezing at Jack's priorities here

Stephen really really doesn't want to be a surgeon, but unfortunately for him nobody cares about that lmao

[dargorian]

This was started before S5 dropped and I was hoping to get it done before the release date. But then we got it five days early and this fits so well with the aftermath of 5x08 I’m shook. I think Rayla would have tended to Callum’s wounds on the Sea Legs and cleaned him up a bit (I imagine there's a sunfire medic/naval surgeon onboard the ship but they're busy healing Soren at the moment).  I imagine they’re talking about what happened earlier and at Callum’s pained expression, which Rayla knows has nothing to do with his wounds, has her put down the cloth she was using and reach up to comfort him. He leans into her touch and covers her hand with his. I’m very weak for face touches. Don’t judge me. ::EDIT:: Postybird didn't include the spoiler tag when it posted this - I've added it now!