Not so typically British

[alifeasvivid]

We need to talk about America’s Super Strength more

I’m probably not gonna say anything new here, but I didn’t say we need to talk about new stuff about it, I just said more, so here we go:

-Sex. Obviously. England’s durable. He’s been around for thousands of years and he’s kinky af and he’s not gonna break. America needs to really put his strength to good use here.

-But also cute things like:

-BONE CRUSHING HUGS. Desperate embraces that nearly crush England but he likes it because for once he can feel how much someone loves him.

-England complaining of any kind of physical fatigue and America just scoops him up and carries him.

-Best if it’s not bridal style. Best if it’s over the shoulder, piggy-back, or hell just under his arm like a dog or cat. Bridal style is baby’s first carry, alright. Anyone can pick someone else up like that, more or less. It’s not cute or new or highly demonstrative of how utterly effortless it would be for America to lift basically anyone.

-But mostly England. Only England. I ship the special relationship, nothing else.

-or America picks him up to keep him from hurting himself or doing something self-destructive

-not carrying, but picking him up. Easily grabbing England by an arm or an ankle and lifting him like a ragdoll.

-Also holding England down and England could be struggling to get free with every ounce of strength and effort and willpower he posesses (which are all quite considerable btw) and America’s holding him with like…. idk one hand. Hot.

-Not breaking a sweat no matter what physical activity they are engaged in 

-Like super strength is super hot and America is totally the type of person who would use his physical strength to his advantage and I’d bet 10 to 1 that England thinks it’s sexy as hell and would even enjoy being tossed around a bit I’m just sayin’

-Feel free to add more

[danielodowd-deactivated20170124]

[annabellioncourt]

There’s a lovely old English myth that if someone who truely loved and trusted the werewolf called it by name that it would turn back to human.

Others include throwing their human clothes at it and it’d turn back but that’s a bit less romantic

[mothfishing]

#ok i understand ppl would take the romancey route here#but imagine the werewolf’s mother#or grandmother#some wizened old woman or middle aged woman#with wrinkles or hands toughened from years of labor#just going out into the woods#where even the men with axes won’t go anymore#and facing down the ravening beast#and saying#it’s time to come home

[the-golden-ghost]

I actually like the “throwing clothes at it” better cause now I’m picturing Grandma stomping out of the house at 3 AM in her slippers, arms full of clothes and facing down this horrible, snarling beast.

And then she just starts flinging clothes at it like “GODDAMN IT JEFFERY IT IS THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING YOU GET YOUR PANTS ON AND COME BACK INSIDE RIGHT THIS MINUTE”

[deleriousfromcoffee]

I love both these versions.

[mi-chan4649]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY🎉

@ota-kat-cool pls accept this offering 😂

[kinori-k9]

yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssssss, thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu, ;A; it’s bootiful, love it

[master-usune]

“Their is something that I really adore about Alfred. His American smile!”

(I have a little Headcanon that Alfred has a dimple, that’s why when you see all of my America fanarts, you’ll see that he has a tiny dimple right beside his smile. Even Matthew too but on the left side.)

I have full filled my promise that I will draw him in that outfit @ask-college-aph-america hehehehe.

-OwO

[Come visit my blog if your interested and visit @ask-college-aph-america he’s blog is awesome!]

[kortzite]

[ohmightysmiter]

[moved-to-ofswordsandpens]

me at 13: My family and friends can never know the extreme fixations I have. I enjoy this thing the casual amount. No more, no less.

Me at 20: … And thats why Zuko and Katara should have ended up with each other. They perfectly reflected the shows themes of Yin and Yang. Foils yet parallels: Fire and Water. Sun and Moon. Opposite sibling dynamics. Respective royalty of their homelands. Complex relationships regarding their absent mothers. Taking on parental roles in the gaang. They were literally paired together for the final battle of the show because they were complimentary equals. It could have been the perfect execution of the enemies to friends to lovers trope. I mean how do you even ignore the blatant symbolism in the color coding of - Mom? Mom, are you listening to me? They were supposed-

[kisugesan]

LOL

[ivyarchive]

[vanta-black-girl]

Yes @brattylikestoeat

[brattylikestoeat]

This was prefect.

[sushinfood]

Literal foodporn.

[leecheedoodles]

Joining in on that ship dynamics meme hehe

[365daysofusuk]

April 23rd, 2014

AUTHOR: hoshiko2

April 23rd, 2014

England didn’t ask for much in life, and he certainly never asked for a birthday celebration. Of course, he didn’t remember when his official birthdate was, although France liked to tease him that he knew and that England was always wrong when he guessed. Instead, England decided he’d settle for never having one unlike some nations that loved to boast about theirs. This year, though, England found himself being woken by the one nation he thought he’d never see so early in the morning.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

Hearing these words soothed England, and he settled into his pillow, the covers coming up to his nose, and smiled fondly. The feeling of fingers carding through his hair and caressing down his cheeks had stirred him, and when he opened his eyes he was surprised to see the man that had teased him in his dreams from the night before was still there in the morning. America chuckled with warm, blue eyes and a tender smile as he lay on his side, watching England.

“You’re still here…,” England murmured.

“Of course.” America leaned in a pecked England on the forehead with a chaste kiss. “Where else would I be than on your birthday?”

“My…my birthday?” England lowered the covers and frowned slightly in confusion. “What do you mean? I don’t know when my birthday is.”

“Why can’t it be today? I mean, we have un-birthdays, right?” England opened his mouth to reply, but America continued to talk. “And you can’t always have an un-birthday! So, I’m picking this one.”

“Why St. George’s Day?” England asked quickly, afraid he’d miss his chance to speak with how fast America prattled on.

“Hm? Well. Your people seem to love it.”

“America, loving a specific day doesn’t constitute a nation’s birthday. If that were true, then a lot of nations would share Christmas or Good Friday or Hanukkah.”

“Well…is St. George’s Day a religious holiday?” America began to pout, deterred by England’s objection to the birthday idea. “I mean…I don’t see people going to church more than Sundays or Easter or Good Friday or something, you know?”

England gave a sigh and then sat up. He felt America grab for his arm, but he brushed it aside. Then, he turned to regard America who stared up at him with wide, sad eyes. He looked upset that England had sat up rather than staying on his back beside him. “Dear, St George’s Day is a religious holiday. It’s just not celebrated in many places unless they know of Saint George.”

“Oh.” America pouted again and then hummed in thought. “Well… It just has to be today.”

“Why? Why is today so important?”

America’s face blossomed into a red blush that crept up his ears and slid down his neck. His eyes scampered away from England’s gaze, and he toyed with the edge of the covers. A sly, but nervous smile formed across his lips. “W-well… Because then I can…”

But he trailed off, and England didn’t hear the rest of what he wanted to say. “What was that?” Again, America mumbled until his head hung low and England couldn’t even see his face anymore. “Come again?”

“I said…because then I can give you your present…”

England sat back as if he had been shocked. His eyes were wide, and all he could do was watch as America got up out of bed and trotted over to his suitcase that was on the floor, having been tossed aside and flung open as soon as America got in the room. He rummaged around in it briefly before he found the small box. Then, he returned to the bed, only now he was sitting up like England. Slowly, he offered it out to England.

The English nation looked at the present as if expecting it to explode or do a trick. It was a small gift wrapped up in blue wrapping paper with a red and white bow proudly sitting on the top. A tiny nametag was tapped near the bow that simply said, “Mr. Grump”. England scoffed at the name.

“Who is ‘Mr. Grump’? Somebody else that you give gifts to?”

America laughed loudly once, and then grinned at England. “Yeah, he’s some other Englishman that I flirt with, make love to, and eat his crappy food.”

England blushed, but pretended to be angered by America’s words. “How dare you? And here I work my arse off to make the best food in the world for you.”

America snorted, and then shoved the present into England’s hands. “Just open it, Mr. Grump.”

With a huff, England did just that. The box under the wrapping paper was plain with a removable lid. England picked it up and looked inside. He gasped, nearly dropping the box, but instead pulled out a fragile matching tea cup and plate. The design on the tea cup was rather plain, but it had a gold rim, and on the inside was a small spades symbol. At the bottom was the Union Flag in both gold and silver. The plate had a gold rim as well, and had a large spades symbol in gold in the center.

“Look familiar?” America asked. “Look on the bottom of the cup and plate.”

England did just that. Then, he slapped one hand over his mouth as tears sprung to the corners of his eyes. “Oh my… America…”

America shifted over to sit beside England. He draped one arm around England’s shoulder and kissed his temple. “I’ve taken good care of them. Have ever since you gave them to me…”

“All this time…?”

America only nodded with a tender smile and then pulled England into a tight embrace. England cried softly into his shoulder, clutching the tea cup and plate to his chest.

On the underside of the plate and cup that looked as new as the day England gave it to America it said, Made in Britannia, 1771.

[funfunkyworld]

Nya

[enigmaticagentalice]

I mean I SAY I love the ‘Enemies to Lovers’ trope but what I really MEAN is that I love the

‘Enemies to Resentful Allies In A Time Of Crisis to Grudging Mutual Respect to Growing Fondness Concealed By Snark to Hurtful Betrayal to Slow Reconciliation With A Greater Understanding Of Each Other to Strange But Solid Friendship to Unexpected Feelings In A Time Of Crisis to Denying Their Feelings While Growing Closer As Friends to Epiphanies Of Love In The Worst Possible Circumstances to Mutual Pining to Unbearable Sexual Tension to Lovers’

trope

[kailjoi]

Alfred suddenly picking Arthur up?

I- I miss them so much… ;;

[water-earth-fire-air]

Why make such a beautiful ship, but then not make it canon?!

[catie-does-things]

but like…why was there a legend about forbidden lovers from warring peoples with a red and blue color motif who met in underground caverns lit by glowing crystals…and then a pivotal scene of rapprochement between zuko and katara that opens with them framed in the exact same standing/kneeling position as oma and shu and that takes place in an underground cavern lit by glowing crystals…if all that wasn’t supposed to mean anything??? like i’m just supposed to believe that was all a huge coincidence??? that they created this amazing parallel by accident??? that is the fakest news tbh

[not-aph-england-deactivated2021]

i need single dad arthur/alfred content

[not-aph-england-deactivated2021]

just like, i dont know, their kids wanting a playdate so they have to sit there while the kids play, and then they start talking about life and sharing stories

and one thing leads to another and when they realize it, they’re cooking together in a Wednesday night and drinking wine on the couch and laughing about funny stories of their past and the kids are asleep already and then it’s 2 am and they’re making out and who would’ve guessed this would happen

[mylordshesacactus]

Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.

Carpathia received Titanic’s distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.

(Californian’s exact position at the time is…controversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanic’s distress rockets. It’s uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)

Carpathia’s Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanic’s aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.

All of Carpathia’s lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.

I don’t know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.

Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awake–prepping a ship for disaster relief isn’t quiet–and all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.

And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.

Here’s the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining rooms–which, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when she’d done that, he asked her to go faster.

I need you to understand that you simply can’t push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only reckless–it’s difficult to maneuver–but it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They can’t do it. It can’t be done.

Carpathia’s absolute do-or-die, the-engines-can’t-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.

No one would have asked this of them. It wasn’t expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a respondibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.

They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.

This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanic’s last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.

In total, 705 people of Titanic’s original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.

At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.

I think the least we can do is remember them for it.

[thejollywriter]

wow okay i’m crying now

[girlwithakiwi]

“And even as he watched the rescue unfolding that morning, he would have understood that for the living, everything which could have been done had been done: not a single survivor was lost or injured being brought aboard the Carpathia. For those who had gone down with the Titanic, save for reverencing their memory at the service later that day, there was nothing more that he or anyone could do. Rostron’s duty now was as he always saw it: to the living.”

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I looked up a bit about this because the post is so movingly written that when I read it aloud to my husband and mother they both wept like babies, and something else really struck me about this story.

So Carpathia was not a top-end luxury liner. Her reputation was for being Jolly Comfortable - she was very broad in her proportions, and not super-duper fast, and the result was that she didn’t rock so much on the waves and you couldn’t particularly hear/feel the engines. She was solid and dependable, and lots of people liked using her, but she therefore occupied a lesser niche than Titanic or Olympian or whatever - and crucially, as a result of that, she only had one radio operator on board. This means she only had radio ops for a certain window in the day, unlike Titanic, which had 24 hour radio ops.

So on that night, when Titanic went down, Carpathia’s wireless operator - one Harold Cottam - clocked off his shift at midnight, and went to bed. While he was getting ready for bed, though, he left the transmitter on for the hell of it, and therefore picked up a transmission from Cape Race in Newfoundland, the closest transmitting tower sending messages to the ships. They told him that they had a backlog of private traffic for Titanic that wasn’t getting through. So, even though his shift was over, and it was now 11 minutes past bloody midnight, and he just wanted to go to bed, Harold Cottam decided that nonetheless, he’d be helpful, and let the Titanic know they had messages waiting.

And that’s how he received the Titanic’s distress signal. In spite of no longer being on shift to receive it, and therefore in order to send Carpathia galloping to Titanic’s rescue, and thus saving 705 people.

All because Harold Cottam decided one night to be kind. 

I dunno. That’s just really stuck with me.

[armouredescort]

Cottam also ended up staying awake for something like 48 hours straight trying to send survivors messages and a list of survivors home, but due to Carpathia’s limited radio frequency range and with no other ships to act as a relay, this was rather patchy. However, he tried his damn best to make sure the survivor’s messages got home, and was also bombarded with incoming messages of bribes to spill the details of the disaster to the press.

Rostrum had ordered that no messages to the press be sent out of respect to the survivors, for they would have their privacy destroyed as soon as they reached New York. Cottam respected this order, even under extreme duress of fatigue, stress, and the knowledge that in some cases the bribes were almost three times his annual salary.

He eventually went to bed but not before working with one of the rescued Titanic’s radio operators, Harold Bride, to transmit as many messages as possible. Bride was injured (his feet had been crushed in a lifeboat) and had just passed the body of the second of Titanic’s radio operators aboard (Jack Phillips), so neither of them were really in the best shape to keep working, but they did.

In the face of extreme adversity, both men refused to do anything but their duty (and exceeding their duty) not just because Rostrum had ordered it, but because it was the right thing to do. They could have profited considerably from the disaster and they refused for the dignity of the survivors.

[duckbunny]

This is hopepunk. This is what we can be, what we are, when instinct takes over. This is what we are when we choose to care about each other. We’re not profit machines or units of production or lone fierce wolves in a bitter wilderness. We are people, and we care about people.

This is human nature. Don’t give up on it.