#scots heritage

[vaspider]

I cannot express how deeply or on how many levels this song cuts me.

[ferromagnetiic]

Translation: The Stone that my grandmother And grandfather used to talk about Has returned as it left My brave Stone And I don't care whether it's in Kerrera, Challendar or Calvay As long as it's in Steep, rugged Scotland To be put in a place of refuge Which will conceal it safely So that they can't, they won't manage to Remove a single fragment of it The Stone that was lost to us Let us swear by our hand Each and every one of us That we will allow nothing to endanger The man who unloosed it And dared to rescue it From an unpleasant place If they lay hands on him We'll need to be strong And strike a blow for him Using steel The Minister was so sorrowful When he woke that morning His eyes bleary As he turned out Walking the floor Sighing and praying And looking at the nook When he'd found the Stone missing There was much pacing And running 'round the floor And all he could say was "Where did the Stone go?" And, "By the Holy Mother What will I do tomorrow I know the Queen Will be beside herself" Said he, looking deathly pale "I'd never have believed It could have been raised from the floor By someone no bigger than a wasp Something is to happen to me And Heaven help me The man who unloosed it Must be as strong as a horse".

[child-of-frigg]

Druidism and Asatru¿: Roots Deeper than the Earth Itself.

Though at first it may be difficult to believe, Druidism/Druidry and Asatru go hand in hand. Though terminology differs, much of what we understand as Druidism can be found not only within the Norse faith along with various Caledonian/Celtic faiths, but within similar Indo-European faiths as well, dating back thousands of years.

From the Spring Equinox to the Winter Solstice, these cosmic events have held significance for tribes all across the world since long before written history, and many of their monuments to the solar bodies that inhabit the night sky can still be found to this day. The stars, grass underfoot, all the mysteries of the cosmos and existence itself brought forth the Druidic faith, the first scientists; whose influence spanned nations. Though the common image of a Druid is that of a bearded man clad in long white robes, this portrayal comes to us from the Romans in their observation of the Celtic people, and only shows a portion of what Druidism once was.

Celtic Druidism as it is understood today is the coalescence of various Druidic faiths, including those of Anglo-Saxon tribes. Many Celtic, and Vikine tribes share their ancestry with that of the Anglo-Saxons, a cultural identity born from interactions with Germanic tribes. These Pagan Anglo-Saxon tribes worshipped Gods still referenced in modern Paganism, such as Ēostre and Wotan, who are closely related theologically to much earlier Proto-Indo-European Gods. Likewise, the Gods and Goddesses of Druidic faith, such as Brigid and Badb, were found to have been worshipped among these tribes, likely stemming from the same Proto-Indo-European faiths which had inspired people to build monuments to the stars.

The birth of Asatru (Modern) was brought about in the early days of the Pagan revival, and deals specifically with Forn Sidr (Traditional) which is the first name given to the Norse faiths by Normani tribes. These tribes, along with the Galli (Early Gaulish Nomadic peoples) would make their name as fierce warriors during the Roman Eras, fighting as mercenaries in countless battles across Britannia, and eventually settling in Caledonia, a Tribal Confederacy located in what is now North Britain, equating to Scotland. Here alongside a number of Brittonic, Milesian Scot, and Anglo-Saxon tribes, (as well as later being joined by some Scandinavian tribes from the far North) they would be observed feasting, drinking, and hailing the deities of their faiths by Saint Bede during the eighth century, giving the world its very first written account of the Druidic faiths that had existed for so many centuries prior.

During its revival, the Norse faith would go through a sort of coalescence of its own, combining the beliefs of various Normani tribes in order to give rise to what we know today as Asatru. A reflection of the Northern tribes, the Sagas and Edda's that have helped form the faith are part of a much greater story, a story that continues to unfold even now as our understanding of history grows.

End of Part 1.

[cooljamaicauniverse]

[interior] St. Andrew Scots Kirk United Church, Duke Street, Kingston, Jamaica

Mark Phinn Photography

[thoughtlessarse]

With the Irish Culture and Heritage Day being held at the Grange Club in Stockbridge, Edinburgh on Saturday, September 28, GERARD CASSINI considers the Irish community in Scotland The Irish Scots are a very distinct part of the Irish in Britain community. When Thomas Winning was made Cardinal in 1994, a tartan army accompanied this son of an Irish miner working in Lanarkshire to the Vatican. The Archbishop of Glasgow’s enthusiastic band of supporters who went to Rome to see him collect his red hat were not festooned with shamrocks –they were dressed in tartan and accompanied by a piper. In Scotland, the Irish have carved out a distinct character for themselves. Unlike those who journeyed to, for example, London, Manchester or Wales, the Irish in Scotland embraced – to some extent – the culture of their new homeland. This is probably not surprising, as from the earliest times an interchange of population, ideas, language – even sports – has taken place. The first settlers to Ireland probably came from Scotland some 9,000 years ago, crossing a land bridge to what is now Co Antrim. Thereafter, cultural and trading ties were fostered. A kingdom was even established in the 5th century – Dalriada combined parts of Antrim Down and Argyll. In those days, sea journeys were probably easier and speedier than journeys overland. Sottish Gaelic is a direct descendant of the Irish language, and the Highland Gaels are often regarded as closer to the Irish than they are to Lowland Scots. Ireland even bestowed upon the Scots their very name. Roman chroniclers called the Irish ‘Scotti’ to distinguish them from the Picts. Well into medieval times a ‘Scot’ was someone who spoke the old Irish language. It was against this background that the starving of Antrim and Donegal came to Scotland in large numbers in the 19th century. Finding Scotland much closer in every way than their counterparts who settled in the Americas or Britain, they embraced Scottish culture. Most of the Irish immigrants came from Ulster  which had easy access to Scotland via sea routes. In the late 19th century more than 80 per cent of Irish immigrants came from the North of Ireland – and around 25 per cent of these were Protestant.

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Edinburgh? Really? I'd have thought Glasgow a better place for Irish Culture and Heritage Day.

Irish Scot here.

[chili-peeps]

Why did it take me this long to learn that English saddles don't have horns?

[dijidweeeb]

The Appalachians: The Scotch-Irish - Scottish/Irish Heritage, Genealogy 

[hauntedbubbles]

Ghost: *hands Johnny a tea* Here, this’ll sort ya out. Soap: I swear you fuckin’ Brits think tea’ll fix anything. Rudy: *confused* You’re both British, no? Alejandro: *kicks Rudy under the table*  *Whispers* Now you’ve done it…  Soap: *sipping tea* I identify as Scottish. Ghost: You can identify as a fuckin’ tree, mate. But it don’t change nothin’ Scotland’s part of Britain…you’re British. Soap: Geographically, aye. But that’s no’ the point!  Ghost: You know, none of the Welsh or Irish boys make as much noise about it as you… Soap: This doesny concern them! Rudy: *to Gaz* Are they going to fight… Did I miss something? Gaz: *who’s been sitting quiet* Nah mate, this is foreplay for them…I’m just glad my room’s not next to theirs… 

Some Soap Headcanons/Thoughts from a Scottish person? 👇🏼

“Fuckin’ Brits!” 

I’ve seen a lot of folks mention how odd it was, and that the writers have somehow forgotten about Scotland being a part of Britain.

Some folks have suggested that maybe this was just an attempt of them writing Soap as a Nationalist only to be countered with comments that he would have said “Fuckin’ English.” Because Scotland is still a part of Great Britain.

Keep in mind that “British” is often used as a generalisation by many for those living in the UK, so anyone who is strongly against the Union may refuse to associate themselves with it and strongly emphasise by affirming their  “I’m Scottish.”

Whatever Soap’s political views on the treaty of Union, signed all the way back on the 1st May 1707, matter not, because it’s purely banter. The Scots and English have history, and they’re playing with it (Especially when you consider Ghost's whole “Speak English.” stuff.)

As a Scottish person, who’s man was also born here, but his family are English, I often take the piss about his heritage…some of us are just like that, okay? 🤣

Soap’s accent.

I’ve seen it come up again and again in comments that Soap’s accent changes, and sometimes his Scottish accent seems forced…that his VA is clearly not a native, unlike Captain MacTavish’s…

Besides the fact that his VA is actually Scottish, Soap travels the world, he works closely with folks from all over, so it is no surprise to me that his accent is going to dip and change from time to time.

And the times where he’s “forcing it'' in"Alone ","Awa and Bile yer heid!” “It’s pishin’ it doon oot here.” c’mon now, he’s purposely trying to goad Ghost! 🤣 

I worked in tourism, my colleagues came from all over. I’ve grown up with American TV shows and video games. And you bet I hear an accent and have to mimic it! When folk ask me where I’m from, it’s like a default to emphasise my accent as much as possible… oh and angry and drunk… tends to rev up the accent a little more too 👀

Basically, the accent is Scottish… with extra seasoning 🤣

[samheughanupdates]

dglifemag 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🇺🇸 The Heughan meets The Heughin 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🇺🇸

Repost from @cairndalehotelspa FB

'This past weekend, visiting Outlander star Sam Heughan met a very special guest—Russ Heughin, visiting us all the way from Idaho, USA! 🇺🇸

'Russ, whose ancestors share Sam's last name, has been staying at The Cairndale while exploring his Scottish ancestry right here in Dumfries.

'Russ’s journey to Dumfries is deeply rooted in a family history shared by many—his ancestors, like countless Scots, immigrated to America generations ago, seeking new opportunities across the Atlantic. Russ’ family name changed to Heughin when in America.

'Russ is now retracing the steps of his forebears, reconnecting with the rich Scottish heritage that runs through his family’s lineage, exploring the land his ancestors once called home before beginning their new lives in America.

'When @samheughan heard about Russ’s incredible journey to trace his family history, he was excited to meet him in person and snap this great photo together!

'We’re so proud to be a part of Russ’s ongoing ancestral journey, and what an unforgettable moment it was for him to meet Sam during his stay.' ✨

[scotianostra]

On 15th September 1773 the emigrant ship “Hector” arrives in Pictou Harbour on Nova Scotia carrying 189 Highlanders, most loaded two months earlier in Ullapool.

Although they were not the first Scots to arrive in North America they were the vanguard of a massive wave of Scottish immigrants to arrive in what is now Canada. In the century following the landing of the Hector more than 120 ships brought nearly 20 000 people from Scotland to the port of Pictou. By 1879 more than ninety-three percent of the region’s rural property owners had Scottish names.

Ironically, very few of the Hector people stayed on the Pictou Plantation. They had been cruelly deceived by the shipping company that brought them out to Nova Scotia. The land was not ready for settlement as promised and supplies for the coming winter were meagre. Most of them moved on to settled parts of the province leaving an intrepid handful of their countrymen to fend for themselves in an uncultivated wilderness.

The Hector was owned by two men, Pagan and Witherspoon, who bought three shares of land in Pictou, and they engaged a Mr John Ross as their agent, to accompany the vessel to Scotland, to bring out as many colonists as they could induce, by misrepresentation and falsehoods, to leave their homes.

As they were leaving, a piper came on board who had not paid his passage; the captain ordered him ashore, but the strains of the national instrument affected those on board so much that they pleaded to have him allowed to accompany them, and offered to share their own rations with him in exchange for his music during the passage. Their request was granted, scrolling through various passenger lists I have found out the Piper was more than likely a man called William McKay.

All those travelling that were aged over 8 were required to pay full fare for the passage, those between 2 and 8 were charged half fare under 2’s were free. It was bad enough that they were conned with the promise of land in Canada but conditions on board the Hector were said to be horrendous, the ship was barely sea worthy and has been described as a crumbling wreck. I can’t find any mention of how may survived the 11 week journey or how the passengers were related to one another it was a nine week journey over the Atlantic, Smallpox and dysentery took their toll on the infants and children on board. In all, eighteen died at sea, I think by that they mean 18 children, poor things. By the time the rotting hulk landed, people were picking at the planks to find worms to eat.

On arrival about all that they seen was the dense forest grew down to the water’s edge as far as the eye could see.

The unfamiliar customs and appearance of the natives inhabiting the area so terrified the settlers that they remained on board for two days despite their desire to walk again on dry land. Finally, on September 17, 1773, dressed in full Scottish regalia, with all pageantry of their kilts and the pipes, they went ashore

The “Hector” pioneers faced extreme difficulties during their first year in the New World, but with the development of a lively timber trade with Scotland and the finalising of land grants, conditions improved and the development of what is now Pictou County was under way. The land was rich, the rivers and oceans plentifully stocked with fish, and the timber of high quality.

Pics are of a stamp issued in 1973 to mark 200 years since the crossing and the Hector replica at Pictou. The Hector Heritage Quay is one of Nova Scotia's major cultural tourist attractions. The Hector is a full-sized replica of the original ship. A Highland Homecoming, a celebration of the strong Scottish spirit, takes place on-site every September. and kicking off today.

You can find all the details on their FB page here https://www.facebook.com/shiphector/

[yourlocal-lichen]

okay now I'm curious.

context: (white) USAmericans have this tendency to take a DNA test to better understand their cultural heritage. then they make whatever result they got (50% Scots-Irish, 25% German, 12.5% French, as a common example) and say that they "are" those things. this is a common topic of conversation, sometimes people will even say something like "are there any Germans here" and they don't mean people who were born and raised German, they mean people who were told they were German by a DNA test.

now, I see this a bit from an outside perspective (my family is culturally French-American because my mother is a French immigrant), but it seems to me like they take this to a cultural level. I've heard people say things like "my family's Irish so St. Patrick's Day is very special to me" without it seeming like they know anything about the day they are celebrating. it's a cultural identity, but their familial culture is no different from their neighbors with a completely different genetic makeup.

for anyone who wants to participate, here's a poll and please please PLEASE reblog and tell me your deeper feelings about this this is something I feel strongly about for no particular reason. please say where you are from (to your comfort level) and why you chose what option, at least.

I think this is a deeply interesting conversation with many different avenues of thought (immigrants trying to hide otherness with descendents regretting that, what does cultural identity mean if not your blood and how does that intersect with this idea, the general concept of the "great American melting pot"; to name a few)!! I'm even doing a teacher thing and giving you examples PLEAAASE circulate this and tell me your thoughts no matter where in the world you come from

[meichenxi]

Speakers of non-English languages of the UK and Ireland wanted!!

Since it’s World Mother Language Day today (February the 21st), I’m thinking of doing a series of posts on the native non-English languages of the United Kingdom and Ireland, with some information and short interviews. 

For this, I am looking for both native speakers/signers and learners (with or without parentage/heritage of the language in question) of the following languages:

- Scottish Gaelic

- Irish

- Welsh

- Any sign language of the United Kingdom or Ireland (e.g. BSL)

- Any other minority language indigenous to the United Kingdom or Ireland. By this I mean primarily spoken only within the UK or Ireland as a minority, or spoken very little elsewhere. For example: Cornish, Manx, Shelta, or Anglo-Romani, not languages like Polish or Bengali that are minority within the UK but have a significant speaker base elsewhere. (I am aware that I am fishing for some of these *cough* Cornish *cough*...but you never know!)

- Any language or variety that you speak that you feel is linguistically / culturally distinct from Standard English that you would like to inform more people about. For example: Shetlandic, Scots, Ulster Scots. 

I don’t have anything finalised yet, but if you would be wiling to speak to me about some text-based interviews for the sake of qualitative and informative tumblr posts, please send me a message!

(NB: if I have used any names of languages that are not preferred, tell me and I will change them. I don’t know a lot about the non-Celtic and non-Germanic languages here, which is part of my reason for wanting to make this series of posts in the first place.)

Please reblog so more people see this!

- meichenxi

[wc-confessions]

I really, really hate Mapleshade as a villain. I wish the writer's would stop shoe-horning her into almost Dark Forest plot line when there's more interesting cats than her roaming the Dark Forest. She only worked well in Crookedstar's Promise because of her promise to get mess up the lives of Reedshine and Appledusk's heritage from Riverclan. Give me a cat who is corrupted by Maggottail. Or Silverhawk. Or literally any other Dark Forest cat besides Mapleshade. Honestly, her story should have came to an end in The Last Hope going after Leafpool in a jealous rage (because she basically got off scot free with her fling with Crowfeather), only to spirit die by either Spottedleaf or Crowfeather.

There's just so much potential for other Dark Forest cats to have influence over cats while they sleep but nope. They just immediately gun to using Mapleshade.

.

[aimeedaisies]

Aimee’s 2023 royal family engagement count: The final results!

Disclaimer; everyone’s counts will be different, people have different rules to their method of counting the Court Circular. It isn’t a definitive count and is done just for fun 💗

The court circular doesn’t record any work behind the scenes, only public engagements, official meetings and luncheons/dinners. It’s more a gauge of their public facing roles.

👑 Princess Anne 👑

Once again Princess Anne tops the chart as the hardest working royal, completing 467 engagements.

She has done 393 engagements in the UK.

She travelled to 10 different countries this year and did 74 engagements there. 🇨🇾🇪🇪🇳🇿🇦🇺🇫🇷🇨🇦🇩🇪🇯🇪🇮🇳🇬🇮

Dubbed by some as the unofficial Queen of Scots she did 62 in Scotland.

King Charles III

In the first year of his reign King Charles did a grand total of 463 engagements

In the UK he did 386 engagements.

He travelled to 5 different countries where he completed 76 engagements and did 3 full royal tours in Germany, France and Kenya. He also hosted a state visit for South Korea at Buckingham Palace. 🇩🇪🇷🇴🇫🇷🇰🇪🇦🇪

What is also worth mentioning is that he has Red Boxes that he has to go through every single day, except Christmas Day and Easter Sunday as well as a lot of work behind the scenes.

Prince Edward, The Duke of Edinburgh

This year, on his 59th birthday, Prince Edward became the Duke of Edinburgh, taking the title of his father. With this he increased his work with the Duke of Edinburgh award and travelling to visit international sections of the award. Prince Edward also visited a lot of theatre related organisations and youth centres and charities.

He completed 294 this year and visited 13 countries on solo tours and with his wife. 🇹🇨🇧🇸🇺🇸🇨🇦🇩🇪🇨🇿🇮🇪🇹🇷🇧🇭🇸🇬🇳🇿🇦🇺🇮🇩

Sophie, The Duchess of Edinburgh

In 2023 Sophie carried on her hard work in areas like women’s rights in disadvantaged areas, avoidable blindness, hygiene and agriculture.

She completed 226 this year in the UK and the commonwealth and visited 10 countries on solo tours and with her husband. 🇳🇱🇹🇨🇧🇸🇮🇶🇮🇹🇪🇹🇨🇦🇨🇴🇨🇭

Prince Richard, The Duke of Gloucester

The Duke of Gloucester has this year completed 208 engagements in the UK.

He continued his long lasting work in heritage, architecture, the St John’s Ambulance and military organisations.

Hopefully next year we will see him do some overseas engagements. 🕯️

Queen Camilla

In the year of her Coronation, Queen Camilla carried out 198 engagements.

She visited Germany, France and Kenya where she did 42 engagements whilst on official tours. 🇩🇪🇫🇷🇰🇪

She focused a lot of her engagements this year on sectors close to her heart like women’s & children’s charities, osteoporosis care and animal welfare.

Prince William, The Prince of Wales

The Prince of Wales this year carried out engagements in the UK and the Commonwealth in areas like mental health, homelessness and conservation. In 2023 he did 183 engagements.

Prince William travelled to 4 countries where he did 32 engagements related to Earthshot in USA and Singapore, visiting Ukrainian troops in Poland, attending the Jordanian royal wedding in June and finally travelling to Kuwait to give his condolences to to The Emir of Kuwait following the death of The Emir Nawaf Al-Ahmad Al-Jaber Al-Sabah. 🇵🇱🇺🇸🇯🇴🇸🇬🇰🇼

Catherine, The Princess of Wales

The Princess of Wales carried out 134 engagements throughout 2023. Catherine continued her work in her Early Years foundation and childhood development.

She visited France for two, one off engagements for the rugby World Cup in France and to Jordan for Crown Prince Hussein and Princess Rajwa’s wedding in June. 🇫🇷🇯🇴

Hopefully we will see her and the Prince of Wales go on a couple of overseas tours next year now that their children are older.

Birgitte, The Duchess of Gloucester

The Duchess of Gloucester has this year completed 127 engagements in the UK. She continued her long lasting work in sports, the arts (Opera, Ballet, Acting etc…) and accompanying her husband to official engagements.

Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence

Although not an official working royal, Sir Tim often attends as a great support to his wife’s engagements as well as having his own non-royal patronages and interests. It was recently announced that he would become chair of the Science Museum group and is the patron of a number of heritage organisations.

He accompanied his wife to a total of 92, represented her 4 times and accompanied her to 27 engagements abroad in 5 countries. 🇪🇪🇳🇿🇦🇺🇫🇷🇬🇮

(Operation working royal Tim) 👏

Prince Edward, The Duke of Kent.

Despite being 88, Prince Edward, the late Queens cousin, has carried out 75 engagements even with his ailing mobility.

He continued his valued hard work with organisations like the RNLI, the Royal Scots Guards and the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, which he recently passed on the presidency to the Princess Royal.

Princess Alexandra of Kent

Although she is practically retired now, we have seen Princess Alexandra attend four official engagements in 2023. Firstly she attended a Reception for British East and South-East Asian Communities, secondly to present medals to members of The Royal Lancers, thirdly she attended the Coronation of King Charles and Queen Camilla and lastly she visited the Royal Chelsea Flower Show.

This year the British Royal Family completed a grand total of 2476 in the UK and 29 different countries across the world.

🇨🇾🇪🇪🇳🇿🇦🇺🇫🇷🇨🇦🇩🇪🇯🇪🇮🇳🇬🇮🇷🇴🇰🇪🇵🇱🇺🇸🇯🇴🇸🇬🇹🇨🇧🇸🇨🇿🇹🇷🇧🇭🇸🇬🇮🇩🇳🇱🇮🇶🇮🇹🇪🇹🇨🇴🇨🇭🇰🇼

See below for engagements from the past decade and the types of engagements carried out in 2023

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

"Prince William County (PWC) is named after the Duke of Cumberland, the youngest son of George II."

......don't tell anyone Scottish that PWC is named after butcher Cumberland. They'll react very negatively. Google Culloden 1745......or if you can't be bothered, watch the first series of Outlander. The English troops were under the command of Butcher Cumberland. And what he did to Scotland after that battle is a stain on his name. Scots had to submit or were butchered hence his nickname, press ganged to work on navy ships or imprisoned. And if they were lucky, they were exiled to the colonies. 

The Scottish settlements in North Carolina were founded by Scottish exiles following Culloden. 

All Scottish culture was banned for the nest 75yrs until George 4 decided to go to Scotland in 1822 and a team of Scottish heritage nostalgia historians recreated a new version of Scotland complete with new songs, new traditional dress tartans - those kilts. 

There are reasons still feel some way about the English and Butcher Cumberland is top of the list. 

The only positive thing about Butcher Cumberland is that they named a sausage after him because he was so fat he looked like stuffed sausage. 

****

Not gonna lie, I keep seeing Benedict Cumberbatch’s face every time I read “Butcher Cumberland.”

I have seen the first couple of seasons of Outlander — so I love knowing a little bit more of the backstory now!

[lokisgoodgirl]

Highland Fling [Avenger!/Kilted! Loki x Fem. Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (7) An insufferably smug Kilted! Loki has a convenient history with the mission location, a scottish castle. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smuttish. "Friends" w/ benefits. Kilted! Loki. Jealousy. Humour. (w/c 3.6k)

How you had let yourself go along with this idiotic plan was beyond you. A scouting mission to a wedding in the highlands of Scotland with only Loki Laufeyson for company. But Rogers had been insistent. The last hour had passed quietly as you prepped in one of the castle bedooms, changing into a simple swing dress that was definitely not red.

Rolling mountains were visible outside a small window cut into original brick, fog wafting over the rusted mossy landscape. “You have other lovers, Agent... or only me?” Loki drawled smugly while straightening his cravat, spoken as casually as asking you to pass the salt.

Steam from the curling iron stung your eyes as you tried not to let your expression change in the mirror, eyes flickering to him stalking over from the four poster bed. Loki’s reflection took up top to toe of the ornate mirror, a tweed waistcoat and jacket snug to his torso. Muted green, of course. A kilt hung perfectly from his natural waist, the thick apron at the front making a flat expanse over his thighs. The pleated sides swung beautifully as he paced towards you, heavy wool held in place by leather straps and buckles tight to his hips. He adjusted a black sporran hanging over his crotch, the leather detail catching your eye. Intricate metal ornaments set against the black rabbit fur clunked as he spread his legs, the dark green and grey tartan looking unreasonably delicious falling over his thighs. Loki’s lashes fanned against his skin as he lowered his chin, smoothing the rough waves of his hair behind his ears. The wedding party was of an old scots clan, so only a traditionally extravagant show of their heritage would do. Every man would be wearing full kilt regalia. But none, you suspected, would look as incredibly panty-wetting as Loki. “Yes, actually.” you lied, running your eyes casually over his muscular frame, wrapped in woven wool. His carved knees were visible at the hem of the kilt. Just the sight of them made you want to sink to your own. “Just, one...you know other...um-” “Lover.” he purred seductively, enjoying the brief furrow of your brow. You released the curl you’d been holding, shaking it out and setting the iron down. “Yeah...lover, yeah. He’s good. He’s uh...nice.” You could feel your heart beat faster as Loki’s chest pressed against your shoulder-blades, the scratch of tweed nipping your bare back. “How tiresome, I’m am sorry.” he murmured condescendingly, twisting your fresh curl around one long finger. You swatted the hand away with a tsk, rummaging in the small make-up bag sitting on the bed-side table. Your mouth felt dry, the deception making your cheeks heat. You swallowed, turning back to the mirror non-nonchalantly. “What about you?” Why did you ask him that, you fucking buffoon? It’s Loki. He’s got a fucking waiting list.

A sly smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “What do you think?” he said, the implication unmistakably clear.

You let your eyes fall back to your own reflection, inspecting your make-up. “Oh I’m sorry, I thought we were having an actual conversation for once.” you said, tilting your chin as you pressed your eyelashes back. “We have conversations all the time Agent, ‘tis hardly my fault they irritate you so.” You sighed, realising victory was a lost cause. There was a churning in your stomach. “I have a bad feeling about this, Loki.” you murmured, scanning your reflection. He chuckled softly. You could hear his dexterous fingers toying with the buckles at his hips. His warm breath ghosted the bare skin of your shoulders. “All we need to do is assess whether the best man is still in league with Hydra. The signs will be obvious.” Loki took a step back, a flash of green in his raised hand drawing your attention.

A buttonhole appeared, a simple thistle with a ribbon of green and gold wrapped intricately around the stem. He continued to speak as he fastened it to his breast, the tilt of his jawline and the concentration on his face making gratuitous wetness gather in your underwear. “If he is, we can use his connection to our advantage. You are a family friend of the wedding party, a normal and understandable guest. And I…” he stepped backwards, the buttonhole in place, drawing his hands upward from his groin to his chest. “Am your delightfully plain yet devoted boyfriend, Edgar.” “Edgar? Christ.” you murmured dryly before you turned towards him, narrowing your eyes. “You look the same.” How is it possible, you thought as a shiver of desire rolled up your spine, that he is more attractive than his own reflection. Now that you were facing him, the scent of his cologne wafted in tendrils up your nostrils, memories of him fucking you slowly over an earth-shattering orgasm filling your head. That cologne. I didn’t change my sheets for days, you remembered; stomach flipping. “Ah...yes.” he purred slowly, amusement sparking as he registered the glaze in your eyes. “Well everyone else shall see my illusion, but I thought I would leave my true form on display for your eyes only. I know you love to stare when you think I’m not looking so at least this way, our ruse that you are attracted to Edgar will have some semblance of realism.” The spell was broken. Your mouth fell ajar, speechless at his audacity. He was right. But that wasn’t the point. You frowned, concern growing as Loki began to smirk. “Why would I not be attracted to Edgar?” His gaze crawled down your body and back to your piercing stare. “Poor Edgar is rather punching above his weight class, Agent.” You whined in frustration, harshly tugging the lapel of his jacket. “Make him hot, Loki please...come on. Don’t be a dick this one time.This isn’t funny, people I haven’t seen in years are at this wedding.”

“I cannot I’m afraid.” Loki sighed, creases at the corner of his eyes betraying his mirth. ‘Bland and inconspicuous’ were Rogers exact words. And darling, nothing is more inconspicuous than a paunch and a bald spot.”

“A bald…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut with a sharp intake of breath. He was trying to get a rise out of you, and you wouldn’t let him. “I hate you.” you scoffed flippantly, twirling the lipstick between your fingers as you turned toward the mirror. You leant forward, feeling his eyes burning into your reflection. Pressing your newly coated lips together, your gaze flickered up where Loki stood in his signature power stance. His arms were crossed, chin tucked to the cravat rising from his waistcoat as he observed you flip the lid back on the golden tube with a click. “Let’s try that again. Once more with feeling, Agent.” he murmured, swiping a strand of hair back from your collarbone. “Make me believe it.” Loki’s fingertips trailed the delicate skin, lingering a moment too long to be anything less than an act of war. Reluctantly, you turned your eyes up to meet his smoulder in the reflection, resisting the urge push your ass back onto the sporran. “I hate you.” you said, red lipstick punching every syllable. “That’s better.” he smirked. “Now let’s go and pretend to be in love...shall we?”

It felt odd, having Loki – or Edgar -be nice to you. Affectionate, even. Without a hint of innuendo or snideness. Edgar followed you diligently around the room as you greeted old friends, and you surmised pretty quickly that Loki had undersold just how far Edgar was punching above his weight. During one conversation, Loki’s large palm had slid unexpectedly up your cheek and coaxed you into a soft kiss. His tongue had played at the parting of your lips, pressure building and ebbing as he massaged them with his own. “I’ll be right back...darling.” he whispered softly.

He was gone before you realised your eyes were still closed. “He seems...sweet.” an old acquaintance cooed as your pretend boyfriend skulked to fetch another round of free wine. “He is.” you lied, still processing the kiss as you noted the bemusement in her eyes. She looked from you to Edgar, bumbling around the drinks table. “What does he do again?” she asked politely, draining her glass. “Oh, erm...he’s an accountant.” you replied, noting her eyes glaze over. If she knew that he’s actually the fittest man she’d ever see in her life who happens to be a sex god...and an actual god, she’d cream herself with jealousy; you thought wistfully. Your stare was drawn irrevocably back to Loki, holding up each pre-poured glass to inspect it in the light. His long arms bulged beneath the restraint of the tweed jacket, his perfectly fitted kilt swaying with classical eroticism. The line of his calves tightened beneath thick knee-high socks, traditional laces winding up his muscles. Suddenly Loki knelt down on one knee, brushing the kilt up. His thumb and forefinger gripped the muscle, the taut skin of his thigh coming into view before he readjusted the laces at his ankle.For the first time, you noticed a ceremonial sgian-dubh dagger tucked in those stupid socks. Maybe I’ll let him use it on me later, you thought; remembering with a snap that you were in company. Or maybe he won’t ask first.

Loki’s chin tilted towards you, fluttering his eyes upwards to meet yours. He winked.

You felt saliva pool beneath your tongue before you swallowed, turning back to the woman with a manufactured smile. “I think it’s great you’re so into him. He must be a really nice guy.” the woman said, her saccharine lilt making you wince. It was going to be a long night.

Hours later, after the speeches and the meal; you conceded that Loki had officially run out of ways to irritate the everloving fuck out of you. He had spent the entire dinner turning every conversation at the table toward the nuances of asset depreciation and the politics of taxable turnover. Now that they were no longer obligated to stay, everyone at your table of ten had left. “It’s just my personality, darling.” Loki said knowingly under his breath, as you watched the last person splutter their excuses and make a beeline for the bar. “Mischievous?” you huffed through a fake smile, giving the deserter an apologetic wave goodbye. “I find it hard to believe you’re naturally this much of an asshole.” “But you seem to like it so much, Agent.” he grinned, fiddling with a crumpled napkin on the table as his eyes fell briefly to your cleavage. You pursed your lips, scanning the room. “This is a total bust, there’s no hint of Hydra security anywhere. Best man is a dead end.” you murmured, landing back on Loki. “Well, it was a longshot.” he whispered seductively, his fingers dancing over the table to where yours sat. They clasped around your hand, toying affectionately with your rings before raising them to his lips. Turns out, he was actually pretty good at this whole acting thing; but then, you shouldn’t have been surprised. “Perhaps Rogers was misinformed on the lead.” he murmured against your skin.

You let out a staggered breath as memories of the earlier kiss blossomed in your mind. He’s not going to kiss you, no one’s watching, you thought as his blue eyes sparked into yours, the gold specks decorating his irises flickering in the candlelight. You shook your head. “-...like that little quip about charity.” you sniped, yanking your hand away. “No-one’s naturally that much of a dick.” “Are we still talking about that? Agent, that was weeks ago.” he huffed, reaching for the untouched wine in front of him. Silence reigned between you as he drummed his fingers on the table, looking towards the dancefloor before his gaze swung back. “And why did it bother you so much?” “Are you…” you lowered your voice to a hiss, placing a finger on your temple as you leant toward him on the table. “Are you serious? You pretty much said I’m a pity fuck. That’s low, even for you.” There was silence as you both stared ahead. You looked at Loki from the corner of your eye, feeling a wave of renewed anger as a tepid smirk tugged at his lips. “If I was Nat I’d have smashed a bottle over your head.” Loki’s eyes flashed as he turned; smelling prey. “You are every bit as ferocious as Ms Romanoff, Agent...so why didn’t you?” Your stare hardened further. “Because firstly, I don’t want my boss to know who I’m fucking and secondly, I don’t want him to know I’m fucking you.” “Ah.” Loki hummed thoughtfully, biting away a grin. “And there we have it. You’re ashamed of your growing feelings for me. Reason, at last.” “Oh my god, you are fucking unbel-”

“Darling...eh-he-he...oh, delightful...delightful joke…” Loki patted your leg, letting out a chiming laugh while several guests passed behind your seats. He leant forward, tightening his grip on your thigh. You clenched, his firm squeeze filling your head with filth. Loki’s hand slid upward, the rustling of your dress giving way to his touch making you breathe faster. His nose grazed your ear. “You’re forgetting yourself, Agent." he chided. "Concentrate.” The god’s lips brushed your cheek as he released an innocent breath that sounded almost like a moan before returning upright in his chair. He was smirking, naturally. “Edgar could be an asshole, they don’t know” you shrugged, crossing your legs. You could feel the arousal you had been fighting sliding between your thighs as you reached for your drink, before slumping back in the chair. “I think Edgar and I will be calling it quits, actually.” “Edgar is not an arsehole, darling. He is a fine, if rather...unfortunate looking, fellow. And you’re lucky to have him.” Loki said calmly, enjoying the view of your glare from his peripheral vision as he sipped his wine. He set it down with a theatrical sigh. “Besides, this might be a perfect opportunity for you to confront your prejudice toward me.” Your eyes widened. “Excuse me?” “Charity.” he said, as if it explained everything. Your felt your heart beat faster, stirrings of a memory you couldn’t yet place. Your brows knitted together. “Yes? And?” The blue of his eyes darkened in the low light from the antique candle centrepieces as he leant closer, his eyelids cast down before they fluttered innocently upward. “Does the mortal child looking for a marrow donor not ring a bell in that pretty head of yours?” Your stomach dropped, suddenly remembering how he had stepped in at the eleventh hour to help with the nationwide campaign to find a donor at your reluctant request. Apparently, he was a big draw for female demographics aged 18-45. ‘Could you be her hero? Remember, not all heroes...wear leather’. Fuck, you’d hated that line. You felt your core flutter at the memory of watching him make love to the camera, his chiselled face set in a rare, wide-eyed sincerity as he wrapped in one take. “I thought not. How quick you humans are to seek the conclusion you wish to find.” Loki’s smug glee was palpable. You spluttered, your mind whirring. “But...the way you said it.” “With my voice?” he intonated, laden with sarcasm. “The assumption that I was referencing our trysts? That was created...here.” he tapped your forehead lightly with one long finger. You scoffed, grabbing your clutch. “Your witchy mindfucks won’t work on me, Laufeyson.” you hissed, pushing up from the chair. “Is that right?” he said, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Yes.” you spat, taking a step towards the door before Loki grabbed your wrist. “Let me escort you, we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves with a scene.” He scanned the room. People were making their way to the dancefloor as the party began, shards of mirrorball light bouncing against the chunky ancient stone brickwork. With a grimace, you conceded he was probably right.

You tugged your arm from his grip. “Fine.” you said, waiting for him to stand. God, I’d forgotten about the kilt, you thought; as it swung into view. The flat apron of tartan at the front creased, the unstoppable bulge of his cock flashing momentarily against the thick fabric. That wool has like...layers, you thought, bamboozled by the ridiculousness of his anatomy. “Come.” he muttered, jutting his arm. You slid your own around it, making your way together to the heavy doors. The music grew fainter as Loki walked purposefully through a series of winding corridors, medieval style torches hanging from the brickwork flooding the small spaces with an orange glow. “Where are we going? I don’t think we’re supposed to be here...” you murmured, your head swirling with sensory overload in the flickering gloom as Loki squeezed your fingers around his bicep. “I want to show you something…” he whispered, as a dripping sounded from the stretching darkness beyond. You were acutely aware of every click of your heels underfoot breaking the silence. He led you deeper away from the modernised area of the castle, the stone wall beneath your fingertips feeling moist as you trailed along it. You and Loki side-by-side took up the entire passage, a sliver of ebbing light appearing from around an upcoming turn. “Is your cock pierced again- is that why you’re making such a fuss?” you blurted with a need to fill the intimate, crushing silence. Loki’s low chuckle echoed. “You liked that, didn't you Agent? I could tell.”

You were suddenly glad for the darkness, feeling your cheeks flush. Turning the corner, you gasped as an old chapel room came into view, a window cut into the high wall sending a single beam of dust-filled light across the floor. Stern arches raised on either side of the walls, a stale musk of history heavy in the air. As you stared up at the vaulted ceiling, you felt Loki’s arms slide around your waist from behind. “I was almost wed in this chapel once.” he murmured coyly, releasing a groan into your ear on the exhale. He rubbed his cheekbone possessively against your temple, his voice deepening. “What are the chances?” “Wed? Wha-” “Hush, Agent.” he purred, spinning you to face him. You stared up at his insufferably perfect face, the sharp features carved like marble; set for a scene which had clearly already been decided. You shivered, rough brickwork scratching your skin as he nudged you backward. “You already know that I have enjoyed occasional Midgardian dalliances, throughout my lifetime” he hummed, trailing his knuckles down your neck. “Sex and violence are so much more potent, within this realm. So...raw.” “And motorcross…” you gasped, shrugging his tweed jacket over his biceps and casting it to the ground. You popped the buttons of his waistcoat, as he chuckled; letting it slide away. “Indeed” he purred, pushing you back against the wall before untying the cravat from his neck and tossing it aside. Loki un-tucked his shirt from the kilt waistband, before gracefully fingering the buttons and letting it join the pile of discarded clothing on the bricks below. Only the kilt remained. He placed a palm flat against the wall behind you, inhaling dramatically against the skin of your neck. A whimper snuck past your lips as you felt the lustful god buck against you, his chiselled torso flat against your fragile body.

“I spent some time here in the mid-1700s. There was mischief afoot amongst the Scots which I felt obliged to...encourage.” he hummed, playing with the shoulder of your dress. You frowned. “Are you talking about the Jacobites?” Loki chuckled, placing a sucking bite against your skin before answering. “Indeed. Norns, I haven’t heard that stupid name in a long time.” His forefinger caressed the hollow of your neck, making you tilt your chin upward with a moan. “Loki…we shouldn't-” you whispered, as your fingers combed his hair back, tugging gently. “-It’s all a bit dull, really.” he continued, as your palms slid down his shoulders and over his chest. “I was caught ravishing the clan leader’s daughter. Against this very wall, in fact." He bit his lip, running his eyes ravenously down your keening body. "She was howling my name with such enthusiasm the entire warrior guard kicked down that door ready for slaughter, axes in hand. Naturally, her father tried to marry us on the spot.”

Your mind spasmed, thinking of Loki rutting into another woman as she came against this stone three hundred years ago. “Needless to say...events did not fall in their favour.” Loki hummed, his knuckles trailing appraisingly over the dent of your cheekbone. He really is a timeless wanker, you thought; realising your hand had begun to palm his engorged cock beneath the kilt.

The god’s fingers curled around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Does it arouse you, thinking of me with another?” he groaned, rocking against your hand. “She’s dead.” you gasped, feeling him grow thicker beneath your touch. “Mmm...it’s still possible to be jealous of a dead lover, Agent. Would you like the chance to best her? She was rather memorable.” You gathered a clutch of thick wool containing his throbbing girth in a tight fist, squeezing harder than you ever had in your life. "I can't stand you Loki, I don't care who you fuck now...never mind hundreds of years ago." Loki hissed above you, shoulders rolling back, his mouth falling open. “Ahhhh” he gasped, eyelids fluttering shut as you doubled down. “If you are trying to make me suffer, Agent...I must confess, that is not the way to do it.” “So you’re a true Scotsman tonight, huh?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow as you tugged the rough wool covering his cock. “At least...in one respect. If lacking in others. I guess that’s something.” Snideness coloured your words, enjoying the twisting of his eyebrows as he searched for the insult beneath his pleasure. There was no hint of underwear beneath the garment as Loki flinched, his knees beginning to buckle as you roughly jacked him against the fabric. “Oh, Agent” he hummed, fingernails scraping against the wall behind you as his eyes rolled back. Loki let out a single animalistic grunt, before swatting your wrist away from its grip. He had found the insult.

His fingers wrapped around your forearm, suddenly pulling you across the chapel floor towards an imposing stone staircase in the corner. A thin rope stretched across the opening, a worn sign hanging lamely in the middle before he tore it aside. Battlements, it read. You gasped as the world upended. Loki had thrown you over his shoulder. With arms hanging by his ass, you watched the kilt swing methodically as your half-hearted cries of protestation choked the air, blood thundering in your ears. You felt rough layers of clothing manifest over his bare torso as you squirmed, the tartan changing in waves beneath your palms as he bounded up the rough-cut stairs two at a time.

“Tonight you’ll see just how much of a true Scotsman I can be.” he muttered darkly, before kicking the heavy door at the top of the staircase wide to the night air with a shuddering thud.

Continued in Highland Fling - The Battlements Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

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