On 1 July 2016, 1,400 volunteers took part in a national memorial to mark the centenary of the Battle of the Somme. ‘We’re here because we’re here’ saw soldiers in First World War uniform appear unexpectedly in locations across the UK. Commissioned by 14-18 NOW, conceived and created by Turner Prize-winning artist Jeremy Deller in collaboration with Rufus Norris, Director of the National Theatre and 27 other organisations including Lyric Theatre Belfast, Manchester Royal Exchange, National Theatre of Scotland and National Theatre Wales.
The soldiers congregated without ceremony in public places up and down the country. Like ghosts, the soldiers remained silent throughout the day and when approached simply handed out a white card displaying the name, rank, battalion and regiment of a real soldier who had died at the Somme on July 1 2016. All the volunteers carried the details of a different soldier.
19,240 British soliders were killed on the first day alone of the Battle of the Somme.
SO back in during the revolutionary war the British soliders sang a song called Yanke Doodle (which is now a famous American song and even the state anthem of Connecticut).
SO MY QUESTION TO YOU IS, WHAT DOES THIS SONG HAVE IN COMMON WITH THE 2004 GREEN DAY SONG AMERICAN IDIOT?
1. Okay so American Idiot is quite simple what the title means. But you don’t really know what Yankee Doodle means right.
Okay so Yankee is basically an American person. But what the fuck is a doodle?
Wait wait. So Doodle means “fool” right. Technically this means that the song is literally called American Idiot. But that’s not everything.
2. The meaning in American Idiot is according to Wikipedia that Green Day and Billy Armstrong makes fun of the American people.
“American Idiot” contends that mass media has orchestrated paranoia and
idiocy among the public. Citing cable news coverage of the Iraq War, Billie Joe Armstrong recalled, “They had all these Geraldo-like
journalists in the tanks with the soldiers, getting the play-by-play.“
He felt with that, American news crossed the line from journalism to reality television, showcasing violent footage intercut with advertisements.
Armstrong went on to write the song after hearing the Lynyrd Skynyrd song "That’s How I Like It” on his car radio. “It was like, ‘I’m proud to be a redneck’ and I was like, 'oh my God, why would you be proud of something like that?’ This is exactly what I’m against.”
But what is the meaning of Yankee Doodle? According to Wikipedia:
“Traditions place its origin in a pre-Revolutionary War song originally sung by British military officers to mock the disheveled, disorganized colonial “Yankees” with whom they served in the French and Indian War, apparently written c. 1755 by British Army surgeon Dr. Richard Shuckburgh while campaigning in upper New York.
The British troops sang it to make fun of their stereotype of the
American soldier as a Yankee simpleton who thought that he was stylish
if he simply stuck a feather in his cap.
You see a pattern here? Yankee Doodle IS LITERALLY A 18TH CENTURY VERSION OF AMERICAN IDIOT.
I’ve Been Reading Instruction For American Servicemen In Britain 1942
So Instruction For American Servicemen In Britain 1942 is a reproduced typescript of what was giving to men going over to Britain to help ease friction with the populace. And I thought I would share my favorite parts of the text.
You will naturally be interested in getting to know your opposite member, the British solider, the “Tommy" you have read and hear about.
BRITISH RESERVE, NOT UNFRIENDLY. You defeat enemy propaganda not by denying that differences exist but by admitting them openly and then trying to understand them. For British are often more reserved in conduct than we. On a small island where forty-five million, each man learns to guard his privacy carefully- and is equally careful not to invade another man’s privacy.
So if Britons sit in trains or buses without striking up a conversation with you, it doesn’t mean they are being and unfriendly. Probably they are paying more attention to you than you think. But they don’t speak to you because they don’t want to intrusive or rude.
Another difference.The British have phrases and colloquialisms of their own that may sound funny to you. You can make just as many boners in their eyes.
DON’T BE A SHOWOFF. The Britsh dislike bragging and showing off. American wages and American soldier’s pay are the highest in the world. (This line about American pay and how you should not flaunt it is said so many times in this book that it’s hilarious.)
THE BRITISH ARE TOUGH. Don’t be misled by the British tendency to be soft-spoken and polite. If they need to be, they can be plenty tough. The English language didn’t spread across the ocean and over the mountains and jungles and swamps of the world because these people were painty-waists.
You won’t being able to tell the British much about ‘taking it.’ They are not particularly interested in taking it anymore. They are far more interested in getting together in solid friendship with us. So that we can all start dishing it out to Hitler
THE BEST WAY to get on in Britain is very much the same as the best way to get on in America. The same sort of courtesy and decency and friendliness that go over big in America will go over big in Britain. The British have seen a good many of Americans, and they like Americans. They will like your frankness as long as it is friendly. They will expect you to be generous. They are not given to back-slapping, and they are shy about showing their affections. But once they get to like you they make the best friends in the world
KEEP OUT OF ARGUMENTS. You can rub a Britisher the wrong way by telling him “We came over and won the last one.”
Once again, look, listen, and learn before you start telling the British how much better we do things. (This is the best line)
The British don’t know how to make a good cup of coffee, and you don’t know how to make a good cup of tea it’s and even swap.
TITLE OF STORY: White Rabbit CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: One Shot AUTHOR: PassionateWriter07 WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: James Conrad GENRE: Romance/Smut FIC SUMMARY: Over the course of the final weeks of the Vietnam War, you had become best friends with a certain British ex-special forces solider. What happens when you find out you’ll be separated for months; you back to America, him to Skull Island?
RATING: M!!! WARNINGS: A combination of fluff, friendship, and, once it starts, pure smut.
AUTHORS NOTES: Kong is amazing! Tom is sexy as hell! And I really, really wanted to write my first reader fic with Conrad. I hope you like it! (Sorry it’s so long!) TITLE NOTE: Named purely for White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane, the song that plays in the background of the bar fight scene in Kong: Skull Island.
One of these days, you needed to stop poking the proverbial
hornet’s nest. Here you were, in the middle of the Vietnam, one of the few
Americans willing to come over here in the first place. You wanted to help
people—you were very skilled as a war nurse—and there was no one left at home,
so why not enter the war?
It turned out to be one of the best decisions you ever made.
And led to the worst.
The streets of Saigon outside the bar were loud—you could
almost hear the shouts and horn honks from inside. Inside, it was a dark,
dismal, private place. People kept to themselves, whether they were there for a
fling or to garner some extra cash. White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane blasted
through the bar, ironically adding to your mood; in Vietnam, you sometimes felt
like Alice lost in wonderland.
You sat at the bar, your eyes traveled over the various
types of people who had come tonight, as you swayed to the music. There were
the typical Ladies of the Night dancing on tables, some on men’s laps, you didn’t
really care to stare at their intimate activities for fear of someone catching
your eye and getting pissed off. That had happened once, never again. Never.
Kong: Skull Island has been beating its chest and roaring its way through our collective psyche for quite a few weeks now, and we need to let off some steam. Thank goodness we have a focus for our frustration in the form of our darling beating the ever-loving horse crap out of some miscreants in a Hanoi dive bar.
Naturally these images have spurred some excellent fic, compiled here for your sweaty, smokey, erotic enjoyment
Tonight’s authors bring us bar fights and fucks perpetrated by Capt. Conrad, Magnus, Loki, and Tom. Chalk up your pool cues (that’s what we’re calling it these days).
You shouldn't be supported Gal Gadot this way,shes an Israeli supporter, and solider! Countries are boycotting this movie because of her!
Sigh* I was waiting for this
question, because let’s face it Tumblr can’t enjoy anything without bringing
half-assed politics into it. By half-assed I mean completely trivializing, and
taking complex issues, such as the Israel Palestine Conflict, and turning into
something very black and white, I.E. all Israelis are suddenly evil.
Time to break this down so I never have to answer a question
like this. Israel versus Palestine is not as basic as tumblr has decided it is.
Yes, Israel shouldn’t exist, but it does. Shock the world doesn’t actually
exist the way it should. Palestine was immorally taken over, horrendous war
crimes have been committed/are committed against it and its people. However,
Israel isn’t some theoretical country that can just be backspaced, it exists,
people have lived there for generations now, and consider it their homeland as
much as those who live in Palestine. Both sides have fought/bleed/died for
their respective causes.
Now, the government of Israel is not synonymous for every person
living in Israel, just as you are not responsible for every crime that your
government as committed. Gal Gadot grew up in a country that teaches you that
you and your people were chased out of the world, she is the granddaughter of Holocaust
survivors. When people’s solutions to the current conflict is expel the Jews
and you cannot understand why that is so problematic then you are beyond help.
But everyone is like she
served in the military so she is a monster. Military conscription is mandatory
in Israel, yes she was apart of the military, however she never served in
active combat. Yes, she wants the country she was born and raised into be
protected by the military, and I did say country because Israel is a reality
for people, not a liberal conversation about which lines on a map should exist
and which shouldn’t.
Like I am so tired of this stupid fucking trend of boycotting
everything Israeli, if you are doing that you should with the same zeal be boycotting
everything British, as they created Israel, and everything American as it is
Israel’s biggest supporter. If you are boycotting Gal because she was a
conscripted solider for 2 years, without any active service, every
American/French/British/Canadian/etc. solider or actor that tweets there
support for the troops should also be boycotted cause guess what western
countries have been committing just as many atrocities. Boycotting Israel makes sense, I highly encourage it, but boycotting people because they are from Israel? It sounds like semantics if you read it but think about it and realize there is a serious difference, we are all from nations that do horrendous things, I am from a country where Genocide has been committed against the First Nations, and continuous eraser and mass human rights violations continue to occur, are you going to boycott every Canadian movie/actor/singer? I didn’t think so.
Israel shouldn’t exist, neither should Canada/US/Australia etc. Lines on maps shouldn’t just be drawn arbitrarily but they are, examples basically all of Africa, the Middle East, they were drawn without the consent or even consideration of the people who live their. Yet these are realities that have to be dealt with, and maybe this time we can actually treat those who live their with humanity, and this extends to Israeli born people, cause they are fucking people.
Do you realize how xenophobic it is to have people say that
Wonder Woman should be boycotted because she is Israeli, while movies like
American Snipper and Zero Dark Thirty are winning Oscars despite depicting and
more importantly glorifying war crimes?
Gal Gadot isn’t a monster for being born in Israel. She is a
human being, she is a Jewish woman who is facing attack for the simple reality
of her birth. Israel and Palestine both exist now, erasing one will not undo
the past crime. the Israeli government and its current agenda should
consistently be challenged, but as you would not condemn every American for
there horrendous foreign policy you should not condemn every Israeli.
This got long and rambling, but here is the basic point, Gal Gadot is an actress, and I feel no guilt for supporting her. Have a nice day ♥
So this little plot bunny wouldn’t leave my head so I finally wrote it out. Some context is that this takes place two weeks after Jamie forced Claire to go through the stones before Culloden. The only catch is they didn’t work and Claire is at Lallybroch when Jamie arrives wounded from the battle. As always let me know what you think!
It had been two weeks since my heart was torn out of my chest. Two weeks since that fateful moment at the stones. On the eve of death and desperation, my heart had tried to be noble. My love tried to sacrifice, to send me away to ensure the safety of his wife and child unborn. To ensure he would live on in some form and all wouldn’t be completely lost to the darkness of war. And by god, I had listened to him. But I now found myself at Lallybroch, instead of the future where I came from three years before.
The stones hadn’t worked. They had swallowed me up and spit me back out. When I woke from the horrid noises of the lost, from the trapped souls trying to steal my own, I expected to be back in my own time, in the forties. But I found myself in the same war-torn world I had tried to flee to ensure the safety of the baby in my belly.
But Jamie was gone. Gone to face his death on that dreadful field of Culloden. I had sobbed harder than I ever have upon not finding him on the hill, harder than even when I was a little girl finding out I would never see my parents again. I clutched the stones of the ruined cottage where we had spent our last night together, trying so desperately to tear a piece of each other off to patch onto our weeping hearts in order to keep them from shattering entirely.
If it had only been me, I would have laid down on the ground where we last loved one another and slowly drifted off to the darkness of death, where I hoped I could see my heart once more.
But it wasn’t only me. I carried a piece of Jamie inside me, the last piece of him always, and I needed to keep it safe. He had trusted me.
So, I summed up the courage and somehow found myself back at the farmhouse that I had grown so found of. But now it was a constant reminder of what had been lost.
Jenny and Ian watched me with pitiful eyes, while I gazed at the road everyday with a sad broken piece of hope I was clutching onto. I knew he was mostly likely dead and I knew that they wouldn’t bring his body home, that he would be laid to rest on that retched moor.
But to not watch, to not look at all, was all too final. It would be throwing myself off a cliff without the knowledge if there would be water to break the fall or if I would break into a million pieces of heartache, scattered until I disappeared. That would mean I would have to accept that my other half was gone and the constant gapping wound in my heart would forever bleed with want for its missing piece.
The days went by in a blur. I ate little and slept little. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep on the bed we had shared so many nights together, instead sleeping on the lumpy chair by the hearth each night. Jenny, god bless her, tried to get me to play with the little ones and to help with the gardens, but I didn’t have the state of mind to do anything but stare at that blasted, empty road.
I tore my gaze from the desolate, lonely road to see Jenny clutching a limp Mrs. Crook.
I ran over immediately to the kitchen and laid my hand on her throat, looking for a pulse. It was quite fast but beat strong enough against my fingers.
“Only a faint most likely,” I said, feeling her forehead for a fever.
“Let’s get her upstairs where she can rest for a bit.”
Jenny and I carried her weak form up to the servant’s room, laying her down on the small bed as her eyes fluttered with awareness once more.
“I’ll tend to her Jenny, don’t worry,” I said with a weak smile, reaching for a rag and wetting it in the basin to wipe the elder woman’s brow. Jenny looked me over and nodded slightly, then walked out the door.
Perhaps, I could still be of use here. Until the baby came, I could travel from house to house, tending to the sick or simply giving them advice for staying healthy. It would allow me to escape the memories that haunted me every minute I stayed in the main house, every item reminding me somehow of my lost husband.
I was still wiping Mrs. Crook’s forehead when I heard the wheels of a cart faintly from the distance, the wind carrying the sounds through the open window. I shook my head, damning myself for even thinking it could be any good news. My palms started to sweat and my heart thumped like jack rabbit in my chest.
It could be someone bringing his body back, or worse just informing us the news of his death and that he was buried on the dreadful field. Tears ran silently down my face as I thought of him being dragged through the blood-stained grass by a British solider that may have well been the one to stop his heart.
I pressed my hands hard against my head, trying desperately to stop thinking, to stop the images from flooding my mind. But I couldn’t stop them, pictures flashed without permission.
Jamie laying lifeless on the field, surrounded by his fellow slain country men. Jamie falling down after being shot. Jamie cold and pale.
Sobs tore through my chest, as I pressed even harder against my temples in despair. At least he would have been buried with his clan, with the Frasers. I felt the pressure of a hand lightly on mine and looked up to the sympathetic gaze of Mrs. Crook.
“Claire! Get out here!”
I heard Jenny yell from downstairs and my feet responded before my mind did, flying down the stairs at the tone of her voice. Not of despair, not yet. I raced through the house and out to the front door where Jenny stood, gazing anxiously at the cart coming down the road, manned by two red coats and what it appeared to be a person in the back.
Jenny reached out and clutched my hand hard. I gripped it just as firm back, both of us drawing strength for whatever news may come of the man that we both loved.
The cart slowly pulled into the arch of the front yard and I stood frozen as the British glanced at me and Jenny.
I pressed my finger hard against my silver ring, taking a deep breath to steady myself. And then I saw a flash of red in the cart and I was flying once more.
“Jamie!” I screamed, breath caught in my chest.
I ran over to the back of the cart, seeing a dirty and bloodied man with red hair in the back as I approached. I climbed into the cart, no mind of the solider who was glaring at me from his horse. I fought my way to the front and my heart stopped.
It was him. And he was alive.
A broken, strangled noise came from deep within my chest as I moved to where his head lie among the hay.
His eyes were closed and he was so still I would have thought him dead, but his chest rose and fell in a reassuring manner. He was filthy and covered in blood, his skin stained with sacrifice and endurance. His hair looked more brown then red from the dirt, but I thought he never looked more beautiful.
I continued to cry as I leaned down to kiss to forehead and brush the dirty hair away from his eyes, picking a piece of hay from his curls.
“Jamie, Jamie…love, can you hear me? I’m here, Jamie. I’m right here.”
His eyes fluttered open and if I had been standing, I would have fallen to my knees at the sight of his eyes, filled with despair and the haunting of war.
His breathing hitched as his face twitched up into a small attempt of a smile.
“I kent it woulnda be long, Sassenach. Thank ye, god,” he whispered as his hand tried to reach my face but fell back on the cart with not enough strength to find me.
I picked it up gently, as if he was a small child, and brought it to my cheek and held it there tightly.
He looked so weak and so frail, which finally set off alarms in my head to look for a wound. I gently ran my hands down his bruised body. Gently lifting his shirt to peek under it and to be met with nothing but a pattern of black and blue.
I faintly heard Jenny and Ian talking to the soldiers a few feet away as I continued to search.
Internal bleeding? I thought it could be a possibility and if so, there was nothing I could do. My hands shook as I moved down to search on his blood covered legs. I lightly ran my fingers under his kilt only to be met with sticky, congealed blood.
I held my breath as I carefully peeled the plaid from his thigh and was met with a nasty, bone deep wound in his upper thigh, inches away from the femoral artery.
I gently lowered the kilt and scooted back up to sit by his head, which was pressed against the hay once more. He was barley conscious and I could hardly blame him under the circumstances, the pain must be excruciating.
I brushed his cheek, rough with weeks of no shaving, and brought his head to look at me.
“Jamie, you’re home. You are safe.”
I patted his cheek gingerly, trying to bring him to me. “Jamie, I’m here. I love you and I’m here. It’s over now.”
His eyes rolled slightly, appraising her, blue eyes blinking into awareness. He moved his cheek so his lips rested against her palm.
“Sass…Sassenach? Claire…you…why are you here…you should be…”
Tears formed in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks, washing away some of the dirt and pain of the days past.
I sent a silent prayer to god and leaned down an inch away from his eyes, my tears mingling with his.
“They didn’t work, Jamie. The stones didn’t work and I thank god in heaven for making it so,” I whispered through a thick throat.
Jamie started to sob as he came to the realization I was really there and not lost to him. He shook his head slightly, shaking as I smoothed his hair.
“Love…my love. You’re here, you didna leave me,” he cried as he gathered the strength to move his hand to my heart.
“No, Jamie,” I wept, “I will never leave your side again.”
I leaned down to gently kiss his lips, the only part of him that wasn’t bruised. His lips pressed against mine with such little pressure, to weak to move but an inch.
I clutched onto him in that filthy cart for what seemed like an eternity, until someone coughed discreetly behind me. I reluctantly lifted my head from my husband’s chest as I looked at the solider leaning on the cart, the brightness of his scarlet uniform blinding my eyes.
“You’re his wife, I presume?”
I said nothing, simply glared at someone who was originally my fellow soldier now turned enemy.
He cleared his throat and took off his hat.
“Lucky man, he was about to be shot but someone saved him. He has a nasty wound as you can see, but my fellow soldier and I will help bring him into the house.”
I hesitated. I knew how badly it would hurt him to move but the was no other option.
I moved to kiss his brow. “Jamie, were going to move you, love. Alright?”
Jamie mumbled something under his breath and I took that as agreement.
It was a struggle, the two soldiers and one tenant, trying to navigate their way into the house with a large Scotsman in their arms. I hovered almost on top of them, watching Jamie’s face every agonizing step, cursing all the way.
His pain literally hurt me to see. With every grimace, I felt my heart squeeze.
At last, they got Jamie on to the bed where I could tend to him.
“Gooday, mum,” the soldier said, and turned on his heel and marched out the door.
“Good riddance,” I mumbled under my breath.
I sat on the bed as softly as I could beside Jamie, who immediately grabbed for my hand as if to reassure himself that I was real.
He cleared his throat. “The stones, the didna work ye said. I looked after…and ye werena there.”
I brushed his hand with my fingers. “No, I touched them and I went into them and it was even worse then the first time, but when I woke, I was still in this time.”
He closed his eyes in either exhaustion or relief, perhaps both.
“Jamie,” I started softly. “I’ll need to tend to your leg.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “I ken that, but before,” he licked his dried lips. “Kiss me once more, Claire.”
I moved over to him, careful not to jostle him and leaned down to meet my lips with his as his hand grazed my belly which held our future.
A kiss that told all the unspoken truths we didn’t have the words to say aloud.I don’t know what I would have done without you. You are the heart of my soul. The breath in my body.
And so we were, two pieces of one divine creation. Ripped and torn with chunks of us missing from past demons, but stitched and sown back together into one imperfectly perfect soul.
Request: Could you write an Alexander oneshot using prompts 239 and 11? In Hamiltime?
Part 2 of A Spy on the Inside
A/N: So…this isn’t a oneshot, but the prompts worked well with my idea for part 2 of A Spy on the Inside! Hell yeah! There were also at least one anonymous request for part two that is buried in the depths of my tumblr. And I know you want me to continue all my other series and I’ll get there eventually. And there’ll probably be a part three but those ideas need to develop as well. But until then, enjoy part 2!
You were sat at dinner. Not at your house, that had burned to rubble. Luckily some things were salvageable. There were personal items in that house, and you were able to save most of them. While you should hate the Union Army, and you did, you couldn’t find it in you to hate all of the army. There was one soldier that, no how hard you tried, you couldn’t hate. you shook your head to clear your minds of all things related to Alexander. You tuned back into dinner. A business dinner.
“We were ill prepared for the latest attack.” Your father was saying. “But as you know my daughter,” He gestured to you. You put on a proud but polite smile to try and hide how uncomfortable you gelt right now. “Gathered a sizable amount of intel from George Washington’s aide-de-camp, Alexander Hamilton.” You felt your stomach flutter at the name. Your father started reading off the list you remade, the original had burned. The guilt started building in you until it stared to weigh you down. You breathing started to quicken a bit.
You pushed away from the table. Everything fell silent as everyone turned to look at you. You blinked, surprised at your own actions, and swallowed your sudden nerves. “I…uh…I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to retire.” You said. You left all the soldiers at the table and went to your new room.
You couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid solider. He occupied every corner of your mind. He was cute, always cute. His slightly scruffy facial hair and his long and sleek brown hair.
Starz recently announced that the hotly-anticipated Season 3 premiere of Outlander will hit our screens in September — an agonizingly long wait, considering that we got our last glimpse of Claire (Caitriona Balfe) and Jamie (Sam Heughan) way back in July 2016.
But anything worth having is worth waiting for, and that’s especially true of Outlander Season 3, which will explore that very theme, as Claire and Jamie must defy the odds and find a way to reunite after decades apart.
Here’s everything we know about Outlander Season 3 so far:
Fans of Diana Gabaldon’s beloved series of novels know that Season 3 is based on the third book in her Outlander saga, Voyager — a rip-roaring adventure that spans multiple years and countries.
Here’s how Starz describes the new season: The story picks up right after Claire travels through the stones to return to her life in 1948. Now pregnant with Jamie’s child, she struggles with the fallout of her sudden reappearance and its effect on her marriage to her first husband, Frank (Tobias Menzies).
Meanwhile, in the 18th century, Jamie suffers from the aftermath of his doomed last stand at the historic battle of Culloden, as well as the loss of Claire. As the years pass, Jamie and Claire attempt to make a life apart from one another, each haunted by the memory of their lost love. The budding possibility that Claire can return to Jamie in the past breathes new hope into Claire’s heart… as well as new doubt.
Separated by continents and centuries, Claire and Jamie must find their way back to each other. As always, adversity, mystery, and adventure await them on the path to reunion. And the question remains: When they find each other, will they be the same people who parted at the standing stones, all those years ago?
That means we’ll jump back to the Battle of Culloden and its aftermath to see what became of Jamie (since Claire spent decades assuming that he had died in that infamous clash), his men, and Black Jack Randall (Menzies). We’ll also spend some time with Claire, Frank and Bree (Sophie Skelton) throughout Bree’s childhood.
The show has a lot of ground to cover before we catch up to Claire and her headstrong daughter in 1968, where the Season 2 finale ended with Claire contemplating the possibility of traveling back through time to find Jamie after 20 years apart.
In addition to Balfe, Heughan, Menzies and Skelton, we’ll see a number of other familiar faces returning for the new season, including Richard Rankin as Roger Wakefield, Laura Donnelly as Jenny Fraser Murray, Steven Cree as Ian Murray and Romann Berrux as Fergus, to name a few (but definitely not all).
The show has also been busy casting some new additions for the upcoming year, including an older version of Fergus, played by Cesar Domboy.
He’s not the only character getting a makeover: Australian actor David Berry has been cast in the pivotal role of Lord John Grey, a character we encountered in Season 2 as a naive (but honorable) young British solider who attempted to defend Claire’s honor from the Scottish barbarians John assumed were holding her captive before the Battle of Prestonpans.
When we encounter him again, Lord John will be all grown up, and he’ll be sticking around for a while. Here’s how Starz describes him: “He’s a steadfast and honorable British subject, torn between a finely-honed sense of familial duty and a strong moral compass of right and wrong. He is boyishly handsome with an upper class rearing — the consummate gentleman. However, a scandal from his past has relegated Lord John to an undesirable position as governor of a desolate prison in Northern Scotland.”
Following his introduction in Voyager, Lord John has earned his own loyal fanbase over the years, and Gabaldon has written a series of novels and novellas centered around the dreamy and upstanding soldier. So if Starz and Sony are ever in the market for an Outlander spinoff at some point, Berry might have plenty of career security ahead.
Among the other newcomers for Season 3 are John Bell as Young Ian Murray, Jamie’s adventurous nephew; Wil Johnson as Joe Abernathy, Claire’s closest friend and coworker, whom she meets during medical school; Gary Young as Mr. Willoughby, a Chinese man with a deep knowledge of Eastern medicine who befriends Jamie; Lauren Lyle as Marsali, the 18-year-old, high-spirited daughter of Laoghaire (Nell Hudson); Hannah James and Tanya Reynolds as Geneva and Isobel Dunsany, two privileged young noblewomen who cross paths with Jamie; and Charlie Hiett as Thomas Leonard, the inexperienced, by-the-book de facto captain of the British Naval ship Artemis.
Hiett is playing the captain of a ship, so it’s not a spoiler to note that some of Season 3 will take place on the high seas, which probably won’t sit well with Jamie, since we all know how he feels about boats…
Showrunner Ronald D. Moore was already expressing his enthusiasm for the show’s nautical turn back when he was promoting Season 2: “I can’t wait to get out to sea … The technology now, between real ships like what they have in Black Sails and CG, it’s now developed to a place where you can believe it,” he told CinemaBlend. “Now you can really realize on a television budget what Pirates of the Caribbean was doing 8-10 years ago. Now, we can actually do better CG than that on the television front.”
Undoubtedly the biggest change for Outlander Season 3 is that in its final five episodes, the series will shift its production from Scotland, which has been the show’s home for its first two seasons, to Cape Town, South Africa. There, it will utilize the sets and ships previously used on Starz’s Black Sails to adapt Gabaldon’s elaborate sea voyage scenes, with the balmy new location standing in for the Caribbean.
Season 3 of Outlander will be 13 episodes in length, and will air on Starz in September, with a specific airdate yet to be announced.
Four new writers have also been drafted to join Moore, Matt Roberts, Toni Graphia and Anne Kenney for Season 3: Joy Blake, Karen Campbell, Shannon Goss and Luke Schelhaas.
Because the season will be jumping around in time to cover various periods in Claire and Jamie’s years apart, we’ll see the duo transform from their twenties to their forties over the course of the season — subtle but noticeable shifts which will no doubt showcase the incredible work of the hair, makeup and costume departments, as well as the consistently compelling performances of Balfe and Heughan (who are long overdue for some awards recognition).
Production on the season began in September 2016 and will conclude in June 2017, Starz confirms, and the show will make a triumphant appearance at San Diego Comic-Con this July to give fans a preview of what they can expect when Outlander returns to our screens this fall. So close and yet so far!
The “droughtlander” may seem endless now, but the gargantuan effort involved in shifting an entire production to a new continent can’t be overstated, especially when Voyager is such an ambitious and sprawling novel, which takes its characters through an evolution that few shows would dare to tackle. You can’t rush perfection, after all.
The good news is, Outlander has already been renewed for Season 4 in addition to Season 3, meaning that we’re guaranteed another dose of Starz and Sony’s time-traveling epic in the next year or two. Season 4, based on Drums of Autumn, will bring the show to the halfway point of Gabaldon’s currently published Outlander novels, but the prolific author is already at work on a ninth installment and sees no end in sight yet.
The takeaway? We can look forward to plenty more adventures from Claire and Jamie on the page and the screen for years to come — and doesn’t that make the dry spell a little more tolerable?
Prince Self-Destructive's train to jumping the gun.
Harry is on the self-destructive train to Sue Acide, me thinks. And that Sue is no lovely gal. The signs are all there. He seems to be delirious at a phantom whom he believes killed his mum … and me suspects he has his suspicious eyes on daddy. So, he is hard bent on breaking every rule to hurt daddy.
Sadly, Harry fails to realise that the only one Harry is hurting is …Harry. If things continue this way, he might very possibly visit Sue to avoid the repercussion of his fall from grace.
This stunt with ruining the prestige and significance of the IG Games will crush him bitterly, even if he doesn’t publicly acknowledge it.
As he has proven and is continuing to prove, it’s not just MM who is narcissistic, but monsieur himself, too. The thing about self-destructive people is that they are immensely - as cliche would have it- selfish, coupled with a tunnel vision - all is either about them, or about them.
They fail to see the reality of their actions; that they themselves are the protagonist and the antagonists of their fate.
It would require a miracle greater than the Jews’ Exodus to get Harry out of the ignominy into which he has so ingeniously placed himself, his family, and the legacy of the British monarchy.
Perchance a solid praActice of religion would be his saving grace?
But the brimming question is, would a narcissistic character such as Harry is, consent to an undertaking of such magnitude and conversion after so long a time of being excruciatingly conceited? Precarious, indeed, precarious, though not impossible - albeit the probability is rather thin.
Harry’s narcissism is the reason for his hypocrisy. He orates well-meaning sermons, but then turns around and counteracts; resulting in ironic paradoxes.
No matter what Meghan “has on him”, it is no justification for the insult he has thrown towards the athletes, the organisers of the games, the people of Canada and Britain, and this family.
A nonentity like Meghan surely cannot have that much power no matter what she might have in her blackmail hat of tricks. So, methinks Harry is very well behind the whole charade. If, indeed, Meghan has attempted blackmail, Harry is too well positioned to have to crawl to her.
Then again, if he himself has his own destroy-daddy-agenda, Meghan’s blackmail comes in quite handy for him to play against his family and moreover his father. That is to say, he will use her blackmail as a tool to do inane things to hurt daddy, and then say he “couldn’t help it”, he had to cave in to Meghan to avoid things being leaked out. It seems very much to be a one hand washing the other, win-win situation.
Harry will need to ask himself whose hand is still dirty, and who really is the winner? The answer to that we all know … but does Harry??