#“she was not even british” “THEN WHY IS SHE BEING SENT TO ENGLAND???”

[ikolit]

took a break from literally all of my responsibilities to immortalize this scene in drawing because that was insane

#fantasy high junior year #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fhjy spoilers #fhjy #british kristen #K2 #kristen applebees #ikolitart #fantasy high #brennan justfying the pregnancy joke with in world lore made up in the spot #lou's how do you think she got pregnant #blimey indeed #what was that #what an episode #I've watched that scene like 5 times and I'm still laughing at it #“she was not even british” “THEN WHY IS SHE BEING SENT TO ENGLAND???” #insane

[player1064]

Love your drabbles! I cannot stop reading and sharing them. I have another prompt if you are still taking them! It would be interesting to see Gaz defend his Jamie when he is invited as a special guest to that CBS show Jamie is on. Would love to see protective Gary against Kate Abdo with Big Meeks laughing in the background and Titi being torn between helping Kate or (rightfully) knowing when a battle is lost. Maybe a dib at Kate how being a host is easy money compared to being actual pundits & analysts

kinda obsessed w this prompt being sent like a day before Jamie ran his big mouth on live tv and got in trouble for it (though tbh he's ALWAYS running his big mouth and what he said abt kate not being loyal wasn't even up there with worst mistakes imo it's just the one that happened to go viral). but also YES I am obseeeeessed with the UCL Today gang's dynamic the banter.... the thinly veiled dislike between Jamie and Kate.... chefs kiss

Also, this ficlet can be considered part of the wife-gary saga and having said that I'm wondering if I should have that as a tag so the other prompt fills in that universe are easier to find......

---

“Joining us in the studio today is one of the most decorated British footballers of all time, with over a hundred appearances in the Champions’ league and two titles to show for it, it’s Gary Neville. Gary, welcome to the show.”

Gary, who’d been grimacing awkwardly through Kate’s introduction, shakes his head around a bit and then gives her a smile. “Glad to be here, I –”

“—hold on, hold on,” Jamie interrupts, “can we go back to the ‘two titles’ thing for a second?”

“Yes, James, I have two Champions’ league medals,” Gary says, turning to look at Jamie with one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “As many as everyone else in this studio combined, I believe. What’s not clickin’, can you not count that high?”

To Jamie’s left, Micah doubles over with laughter, but Jamie just shakes his head, reaching a hand out to Gary’s chest, pushing him back in his seat. “No, no, Gary, why don’t you tell our audience how many games you played to earn that second medal, eh?”

Before Gary has a chance to defend himself, Kate primly says “about thirty more across his career than you did, Jamie,” which sets the whole table off laughing again while Jamie sits glaring in the middle of it all.

*

Jamie, as the lone Scouser in the cast and the only one not to have won a Premier league (besides Kate, obviously, but she doesn’t count), often feels ganged up on at CBS. And to have Gary on as a guest, even though he’d agreed to the idea (and quite enthusiastically, though don’t tell Gary that), feels like an extra kick in the shin.

Because not only is Gary, Mister Manchester United, getting obvious favouritism from lifelong United supporter Kate, he has the more crucial advantage that nobody in America knows who he is.

This means that Gary on CBS is not ‘below-average defender who only achieved what he did through obsessive hard work and sucking up to Fergie’, no, Gary on CBS is ‘best full-back of his generation, Manchester United and England legend, one of the top 10 most decorated British footballers of all time, and David fucking Beckham’s best mate.’

When you look at it like that, it’s a lot harder to find something to tease him about.

Jamie still manages, of course, he’s spent the past decade making a career out of insulting Gary Neville and he’s damn good at it. Over the course of the show he’s able to get in a few digs about his nose, his hair, his weight, his dress sense. But that’s all appearance stuff, which is easy – one look at Gary and the jokes basically write themselves.

What that says about Jamie, the idiot who went and married him, he’s not sure.

Everyone around the table is joking about Istanbul, which is easy enough to do if you weren’t there, which none of them were, and it’s enough to get Jamie’s blood boiling. He’s getting ready to launch into a rant about how it was one of the greatest games in footballing history when Kate cracks a line about how Jamie’s successes were all dumb luck, and Gary’s face scrunches up in displeasure.

“Oh, I’m – I’m not sure that’s fair, really,” he says quietly, glancing back at Jamie as he does. “Don’t get me wrong, that Liverpool team were nowhere near Champions’ league winner quality, I’m sure James would agree w’me on that –” Jamie, very reluctantly, nods. “—I mean, they finished fifth in the league that season, got knocked out of the FA cup their first game. There’s always a bit of luck to be fair, gettin’ to a Champions’ league final, but credit where it’s due – they were a scrappy little team, and that win was well deserved.”

On Gary’s right, Thierry nods in agreement, which is quite possibly the highest praise Jamie’s ever received from the man, and even Kate gives Jamie an awkward little smile once Gary’s done talking.

Under the desk, Jamie drops a hand to Gary’s knee and gives it an appreciative little squeeze.

*

As soon as the cameras are all off Jamie wastes no time in grabbing Gary by the wrist to pull him onto his lap, where he sort of half-perches half-hovers because he’s nervous about putting all his weight on Jamie’s knees (even though Jamie keeps telling him it’s fine).

Gary makes no complaints at being manhandled, just smiles fondly down at Jamie and pinches his cheek. “Look at you, you vain fuck. What I said were barely complimentary and it’s still got you all over me.”

Jamie ignores this (because they both know it’s true) and surges forward to kiss Gary instead, paying no mind to the others still in the vicinity of the desk while they get their earpieces and microphones unhooked. He hears a groan from Micah, and an exasperated sigh from Titi, but they can both go fuck themselves because Jamie’s horrible bastard of a husband willingly said something nice about Liverpool on live television, and if that’s not cause for celebration then he doesn’t know what is.

When Gary breaks the kiss with a pleased little hmph and gets up to wander over to the snack table, Jamie is left to face his colleagues, all three of them looking at him with faces twisted in an attempt to suppress their laughter.

“Man like Jamie,” Micah says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “I knew you was bringin’ the missus on for a reason, this is like foreplay for the two a’yous, innit?” As soon as he finishes the sentence, he shudders at his own words, then adds “oh, ew, that’s like thinking about your parents, don’t want to know any more.”

“I think you’re onto something there, Meeks,” Kate laughs, “and here I was thinking he’d brought him on to show off his trophy wife.”

Jamie wants to protest that he did not bring Gary onto the show, he’s not the one who made the suggestion and it’s definitely not showing off or foreplay or whatever else his colleagues can come up with, but then Kate’s nudging him in the side with a smirk and saying “Trophy wife, Jamie, get it? Because he has a lot more trophies than –”

Jamie stomps off to go find his stupid annoying and very very successful trophy wife before Kate is able to finish the thought and prompt him to say something he might regret.

#the trophy wife line came to me halfway through writing this and then tbh the rest of the fic became centred around #being able to get that in. bc its SO funny to me. even though it's dumb #also idk if an american audience would know who gary is or not. so i was assuming they wouldn't #carraville #drabbles #wife gary saga #<- making this a tag now. will go back and add it to the others at some point #OH also jamie getting handsy over gary being nice to him is 100% from the bit in sara's fic where they're talking about love languages #just btw

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I absolutely love your writing! I swear it is what is getting me through finals season right now. I know you said that Arthur and Jack have similar tempers and while it is not often, do get into brawls. I am wondering if you could share what it is like when Arthur fights with his other kids/what it is usually about? Also if you could share any writing on fights between Arthur and Jack or his other kids? Thanks!

England, 1810s.

Father's face was stony and cold. Void of softness if Jack hoped for understanding. Arthur juts his chin at the door. "You go and wait in the hall; you'll get your punishment when I'm done with your brother."

Matt glanced at him. Jack was staring at his boots, and Matthew wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or if he looked up, he'd start shouting. But Jack looked up, the black eye getting darker by the moment. He'd have to find some snow for it. And Matt gave a flick of his eyes to confirm he should do what he was told and the smallest of comforting smiles before he turned back and squared his shoulders. Jack's response was just to look sadder. Matthew looked to Arthur once more. Father's jaw was clenched, clamped down like the hatches in a storm, holding the fury in place until Jack was out of the room. The door shut. Hell broke its gates.

"You broke the bursar's jaw in two fucking places!" Arthur slammed a hand down on the flat of his desk, and Matthew didn't flinch. "The bursar. Of bloody Eton college. In front of half the staff and students."

"He struck Jack!" Matthew snapped back. "He hit and humiliated your son in front of how many future politicians! Half those uppity fuckwits will be in office someday. What did you expect me to do? Leave it be? Let Jack think he deserves that?"

"What on earth was he even being punished for?"

"What does it fucking matter?" Matthew countered. "That prick drew your son's blood. He should be thankful I didn't kill him."

"You watch your tongue with me, boy." Arthur was gripping his desk. "Do you have any what kind of mess you've made?"

"I don't care!" Matthew shot back. He'd always been slow to fire but accurate when he got that far. "If you and this fucking empire can't put the fear of god into someone who hurts your children, then what is the point!"

"Matthew!" Arthur returned. His knuckles were white. There was a flick of pride there, if just for a moment. "That is quite enough!"

"No, it isn't." Matthew took a deep breath, and father and son stared at each other. They were in dangerous territory. But Matthew watched his father's face as his tightened and expression hardened. Father had told him anger was an ugly look on his face, foul and Norman. He didn't care today. "Its nothing like enough. You owe him the same caliber of education Alfred got."

"What do you think I sent him to Eton for? If there was a chance left you've just struck it down! Lord knows Winchester or Harrow won't take him after what you've done!"

"Even if they would, what were you thinking, sending him there? They flog their students. Those dormitories would kill me and I'm half permafrost. What is wrong with you?"

"I will not hear of this. You silence yourself now or I will send you too some godforsaken hellhole and leave you to rot. When on earth do you think you received the right to speak to me like this?"

"The day you knelt me in front of a foreign king and made swear to never again harm a British possession. And I keep my oaths, Father."

"Matthew—"

"Do whatever you like. Send me wherever you like. I don't care. But you will educate and treat Jack and Eleanor exactly as you did Alfred."

"Enough! Remove yourself from my sight."

"How are you this STUPID?" It was his turn to shout now. "Do you know why Jack prefers Brighid to you? It's nothing she did. It's your own fucking fault. Disposing of Jack into the hands of the schools when he has no business there, leaving Zee to her own devices so long as she doesn't make trouble, caring not one wit what happens to any of us so long as you don't have to experience an uncomfortable emotion. Because god forbid the Great Lord Kirkland of Red Sail Hall be known as anything so pathetic as a fucking human being."

Arthur had gone pale. His face was still stone, but he had gone pale. On any other day, Matthew might have loathed himself but not today. Not when Jack was covered in welts, one eye was swollen shut, and his own hand was broken on the jaw of the bastard who had put them there.

"They are children," Matthew said, much quieter this time. He was nearly at the door, almost safe. "If you would give them anything in the way of affection, we'd love you to the end of the world and then some. None of us are Alfred and none of us deserve to be punished for what he did."

#Jack || a land of summer skies #Arthur || stone set in the silver sea #Matthew || my country is winter #Arthur and the children || bilge rat and his bouncing baby bilge rats #Jack Zee and Matt || battered bonds once so strong #my writing || cacoethes scribendi #the ask box || probis pateo #also lol did you spot the hamilton referenec

[gagmewitha-spork]

Injury (Lucy Bronze x reader)

Warnings: none

Description: reader is recovering from an injury and is staying with Lucy in Lyon after having surgery. Fluffy domestic cuteness. I wrote this years ago when Lucy was still at Lyon, was originally posted on wattpad but I’ve decided to transfer everything over to here and start writing again, so sent requests :)

I haven’t rechecked/proof read so any mistakes or terrible writing can be blamed fully on younger me.

Word count: 967

"Are you coming to watch the game tonight?", Lucy asked me as she moved around the kitchen making breakfast for the two of us, as I was currently incapable. I had been injured in a game a while ago and had recently had surgery on my left ankle, leaving me feeling sorry for myself, and my girlfriend stuck doing everything for me.

"Of course", I confirmed from where I was sat on the couch, looking back over my shoulder at her, "wouldn't miss it", I smiled.

"How are you gonna get there?", she inquired.

"Uh, walk?".

"You're gonna walk all the way?", She raises her eyebrow at me.

"How else would I get there, I can't drive", I shrugged.

"You can't walk to the toilet without me helping you", she folded her arms over her chest, "you can come with me, I'll get you a seat pitch side so I can hear you cheering me on", she came over to where I was sat, leaning on the back of the couch and stroking the top of my head, causing me to tilt it back to look up at her.

"How'd you know I'll be cheering you on, you're playing PSG, which is my team, might I remind you", I smiled up at her.

"Because if you don't, I won't make you food anymore", she smirked, knowing I don't currently have the agility to stand and make food at the same time, not that I can cook normally anyway.

"Noooo, you know I won't survive without the proper nutrition", I begged, bringing my hands up to grab her face, while doing my best lost puppy impression up at her.

"With your cooking, I'm surprised you survive without me as it is", she laughed, my puppy face clearly having no effect.

"Exactly", I used it to make my point stronger. I tried the lost puppy face again. She leant down, placing a peck on my lips, before standing up to head back to the kitchen. Before she could I reached up to pull her back down, into another kiss, this one a little longer.

"As much as I hate not being able to walk, let alone play, I love being able to be here with you all the time", I said once we pulled away.

"Good, 'cause I love having you here", she kissed me again, then went to pull away but I made sure she couldn't by placing my right hand on the back of her neck. Eventually she was able to pull away, "you need to stop", she told me.

"Why?", I smirked up at her.

"I'm trying to cook", she said, quickly walking back to the kitchen so I couldn't grab her and stop her from leaving again.

"Well that's boring", I stated, turning around more to look over the back of the couch so I could see her better.

"So you're coming with me, yes?", She changed the subject back to our previous conversation.

"Yes", I confirmed, "I'll be your biggest loudest, most British fan", I said.

"Ah, so you are going to cheer for me?"

"Of course, as much as I love PSG, I love you more, I'll even wear your jersey"

"Wow, that's real commitment, be careful you might scare me off", she said, laughing a bit.

"If you weren't scared off after our second date I don't think anything could scare you off", I stated, remembering the shambles that was our second date.

We had just got back to Manchester after playing with the England national team, which is where we had met, and I had asked her out on a second date, we'd had our first while away in the US playing in the SheBelieves cup. I had planned to take her to the indoor ski centre near the Trafford centre, which I knew she'd enjoy, then out for a meal at one of the restaurants near by.

It was all going well until we were at the restaurant. Apparently I'm allergic to shell fish, and who knew calamari counted as shell fish? Long story short, she ended up having to take me to hospital, because I was finding it increasingly hard to breath. But she stuck around, even after she'd seen me with a swollen face and purple lips. Which meant that she must really like me.

After that we stuck to non seafood related restaurants. But it's pretty funny to look back on now I know I'm not dying. At the time I was convinced I wasn't going to make it. I've always been a lover of overreacting.

"Yeah well, I saved your life, you're probably only in love with me because of some hero complex or something", Lucy laughed, as she continued cooking.

"Well I might not be anymore", I said, sulking a little, "you won't make out with me".

"You want your food or not?", she asked, "and if you wait until after the game, you can help me celebrate me beating your team like they're that spider you killed earlier", she said seductively, though the reference to the spider I had smooshed into the carpet with my slider earlier in the day made it a little less appealing.

"I would, but I'll be too busy comforting you after you loose", I shrugged.

"Uh huh, we'll see about that", Lucy said as she made her way back over to where I was sat, leaning down and placing a kiss on my lips. Just as I was about to deepen it, thinking she'd finally given in, she pulled away, and placed a plate of food I hadn't seen her bring over into my lap, "eat up my love, you'll need as much energy as possible if you plan on walking to the stadium".

"Ha ha", I replied sarcastically.

#lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER II

"CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT, Lady (last name)!"

Unfortunately for both (name) and her parents, there was a slight delay in transporting the Grand Duke and Duchess from (home country) all the way to London, where her Uncle, Marquis (last name) had his second estate, although it was usually occupied by (name) instead of himself.

The young lady was know to be incredibly independent by her family and those who only knew her from mere observations so her uncle, who she wasn't even that close to, had allowed her almost full authority over housekeeping in all his estates. If she was to be described in few words by the nobility then the list would probably consist of many words such as Ambitious, Charming, Independent, Beautiful, & Fierce.

Opinions of others had never mattered to the 21 year old though. Why would they? They aren't the ones paying her bills and she was her own person. A woman who made history already in Britain despite not even being that old.

The first woman to ever receive a degree from university in the entirety of England.

Her name was known even in the palace, where she had actually visited before. In fact, the current Queen Victoria had tried to use the well know woman to strengthen Britain's relations with (home country), but (name) had no intentions of doing so.

She had a goal. A goal to help all the countries affected by Britain empire. A goal to restore all these countries, members of the empire or not, to their previous states before the countless invasions of the evil British troops. A goal for freedom from the shackles of this cursed empire.

A woman with such goals wasn't to rely on anyone. In fact, (name) didn't consider herself to have any friends at all. Sure, she could create surface level friendships with others simply to use them like the cursed woman she saw herself to be, and she had few acquaintances to converse with and maybe after this agreement, she would be able to consider William to at least be an ally if not her friend. Not that she wanted to be his friend of course, she scoffed at the thought.

So how had it come to this?

How had she lost herself so easily?

Was she destined to just fail?

Currently, (name) stood, plastering a cheerful yet undetectably fake smile. She spoke to the guests who congratulated her on her engagement to Lord William. Some disapproved. All for different reasons. None of which (name) wanted to know.

This, of course, was her engagement party. The summer air was warm, but never the same as (home country), so the Marquis had themed the late night party to be one in which he could show off his beautiful garden, covered in many flowers but especially lilies and tulips.

The engagement parties were usually thrown by the bride-to-be's parents. But considering they were absent (although her father eagerly sent a letter from both himself and his wife congratulating their daughter on such wonderful news as-well as giving their blessing), her uncle had offered to host the party in (name) and William's honour as if to stand in for her father.

"Oh, thank you so much, Lady Astor! I believe myself to be such a lucky woman, in all honesty..marrying the love of my life couldn't be more heavenly. I do hope someday you find the same joy that I find in my love for William." (Name) clasped her hands together with a bright smile, feigning excitement.

Ever since the moment that the two had met, (name) knew that she was William's biggest hater. She hated him with all her heart, not that there was much to go around anyways.

To her, it was amazing she was even able to maintain this facade of a lady in love for the sake of the public and it had even surprised William himself.

"Really, Lady (name) I think Lord Moriarty is a lot more lucky than you, marrying such a lovely woman! You are- forgive me if this seems like flattery because it is the truth- an absolute gem of a woman. In fact, his highness the Prince himself would be lucky to even cast his eyes upon your god-given beauty!" The shorter blonde woman smiled in return as she complimented the (hair colour)-ette.

"Are you sure you don't mean to flatter me, Lady Astor?" (name) joked as she felt herself grow bashful, whilst also internally smirking at the idea of being superior to her fiancé"Thank you for your kindness."

As the oddly happy woman walked away to make conversation with another guest, one of her friends who she was attempting to set up with another nobleman, (name) was finally left all alone.

Of course, being so independent was a blessing in times like this and she honestly had preferred being alone than being around the mindless members of high society who only saw this pathetic world as a game because they never had to work for anything in their worthless lives.

Right before she was to leave to go elsewhere, (name) felt the hot breath of a certain someone tickling her neck in the most repulsive way she could imagine yet she didn't turn around to punch the mystery man in the face because of course, she already knew who he was. Her intuition was strong after all.

"You appear to be having fun, my love." a harmonious, almost seductive, voice whispered into her exposed ear.

(Name) exhaled.

William James Moriarty.

And (name)'s fiancé. The man she was damned to marry.

The blond man had adopted the habit of calling (name) all sorts of pet names. Originally it was to suppress any idea that he didn't love his fiancée but recently, after seeing her reactions to such simple words, he couldn't help but use them all the time.

And the best part was that (name) wouldn't have the nerve to keep him quiet in order to dodge any suspicious behaviour. After all, the engagement itself was suspicious to the ton. Not because they doubted the love between the two but rather (name) had recently adopted the reputation of rejecting al of her admirers, usually because they didn't meet her standards. She had even had a wealthy duke ask for her hand in marriage and there were rumours that the Queen herself wanted to set her up with one of her many offspring.

Strangely enough, each time she rejected a man, it only made her more desired to the creeps of the upper class. Perhaps, she had thought, it was because of her 'exotic' appearance, which gave her even more reason to reject them because she knew she wasn't to be valued but more to become a mere foreign doll with no brain in the hands of all these men who found her intellect freighting.

"As much fun as I could have in a celebration of my engagement to you." (Name) retorted to which William's devilish grin widened. His hand was placed on her shoulder as (name) held her drink, holding herself back from splashing it on him.

They were watching.

"Well then it seems I'm having much more fun than you are," William remained in his position. To (name), it was like the devil himself was trying to tempt her to do something unholy, not that she was even to be considered a pious woman at this rate. Murdering people was not going to get her into heaven.

"Because you are able to freely torment me or have you found something actually worth your time?" The woman in front of him asked sarcastically.

"Why, because I have been graced by your presence-"

"They're going to toast to the engagement now, follow me." (Name) stated, freeing herself from Williams gentle grasp. She fanned her face as she walked. Her heart was racing as if she were to die but she knew William wouldn't even dare lay a finger on her. They had yet to spar but they both knew that their physical skills were equal when it came to combat and they both had sufficient stamina to do so for hours on end before coming to a victor.

William nodded, following his bride-to-be into the dining hall where all sorts of food lay. The (last name)s were anything but basic. The table was arranged with expensive dishes from all around the empire and more, including numerous dishes from (home country). Even some of the wealthy nobles were surprised, they supposed that the Marquis' trading company was doing exceptionally well then.

Once they had toasted to the two and the dinner had ended, the men and women parted ways as the ladies left the room to gossip and congratulate (name) whilst the men remained to converse with William, mostly asking him about how he had managed to win over the cold Lady (Name).

During the entire engagement ceremony, (name) felt agitated and confused. Was this deal really even going to help her? Or was William just using her and then preparing to throw her away once she had done her bit in feeding into his plan. Surely he could have gone without her, so why did he agree to the engagement.

And as for herself, this wasn't what she stood for. She was marrying a serial murderer for crying out loud. And the worst part was that she couldn't even blame William for her own despair, because technically speaking, it was her who proposed the engagement.

The halls were crowded and stuffy. (Name) felt ill, as though she were to throw up any moment.

(Name) made her way to the gardens and hid beside a tree, relaxing against the bark whilst she crouched, out of view from everyone else. She had taken a book with her to distract her from the impending doom she was to face at the hands of her own poor planning and morality.

Every time she opened the pages and flicked through the pages whilst she read, the words had become blurred and swirled in her thoughts.

Perhaps if she read aloud, she would feel more composed.

".. 'Come you spirits, That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here.'" (Name) read to herself but the words had only hurt her more.

Perhaps if she were a man, this pain would not be here with her. She had strangely looked up to Lady Macbeth since the moment she even opened the play as a child but now she was her, she didn't feel the satisfaction she had expected at all. She slammed the book shut in anger.

"'And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood. Stop up the access and passage to remorse'," another voice spoke as he approached (name) whilst she sat at the tree. "Fancy seeing you out here, my lady."

She raised her head to meet the pair of scarlet eyes with her own (eye colour) ones. "You need not follow me wherever I go. Despite the way you act, you are not my husband yet, and apart from in the public eye, you are free to not want anything to do with me." (Name) told the blond man who was now sitting beside her despite her protests.

William chuckled whilst (name) looked at him in awe of his audacity with a flustered expression, obviously due to being caught reading outside. "But my dear (name), they are still watching. Would I really be the wonderful fiancé you have been describing me to be all night if I let the love of my life run away to the gardens as if she were an infant."

"I beg your pardon?" (Name) said rhetorically "I'm not childish in the slightest..and I had to describe you in such a way because you have no redeeming characteristics"

"I beg to differ." William leaned closer to (name), his face inches away from hers whilst she leaned backwards in an attempt to keep their distance.

"What? That you have redeeming qualities or that  I'm childish because either way, you're wrong."

"Have you ever considered the possibility that you may be wrong, dear lady Macbeth?~"  the male teased

"Say another word and I'll punch you so hard that your ever so pretty face will be permanently scarred and deformed." (Name) retorted with a glare

"How flattering," Her future husband ran his fingers through his shiny blond hair "You think my face is pretty.."

(Name) shoved his shoulder whilst William fought back a laugh. Was he seriously trying to irritate her when she was already in a bad mood?  "I also said I'd punch you in the face, but sure, boost your own ego because you're too pathetic to feel loved by anyone."

"Once again, I think you're wrong, (name)," William finally let out a laugh in response to her actions. Strangely enough, it didn't appear to be forced to (name) but oddly genuine. His face contorted into an expression of amusement for the first time in a while. He hadn't take any offence to her statement at all.

"I never told you that you could call me by my first name. Do you not have anything more important to do?" (Name) asked, trying to change the subject.

William shook his head "What could be more fun than watching your beautiful lips insult me with such grace?"

"Don't call my lips beautiful..that's weird.." (name) muttered

"I knew you were a fan of Shakespeare but why choose to read Macbeth on a day like this?" William asked, completely brushing (name) off. "Would a sonnet not be better suited to a day like today?"

"I read what I like, and I'll have you know that Shakespeare's political tragedies will always remain superior to his sonnets." She argued.

"I couldn't agree more, I applaud you in your fine taste in literature." William spoke. (Name) moved along to allow William more space to sit.

"Finally, something you say which isn't pure rubbish." The young lady felt her heart grow lighter, as if her worries were no longer catching up to her anymore.

Moments had passed as they talked about various books they had both read. Mostly Shakespeare but foreign literature was also a hot topic between them. It was as if they were children once more.

In fact, when the two had met, it was over a book that (name) was reading when William first saw her. And once again, this book was a Shakespeare play.

“You wouldn’t mind if I sat here, would you?”

The blond boy asked the (hair colour) girl as he pointed to the seat opposite her at the library table.

She lifted her head in surprise. There were other empty spaces in the library, could he not go sit elsewhere?

(Name) looked at him closely. He was possibly one of the few other people at the university of her age. It would be beneficial to become acquainted with someone of her age and possibly her skill.

“Oh-“ she felt as if she were about to start stuttering “no..it’s quite alright.”

She picked her book back up, almost feeling fearful of the stranger and his piercing gaze yet each time she took a peak at him, he had a soft and gentle expression. Was her intuition acting up, because usually her gut feeling was right, but what could a mere 16 year old do to her?

“I apologise for disturbing you, but is that ‘The tempest’ you’re reading?” The boy finally asked after looking away from the material he was reading.

“Indeed it is. It’s possibly one of my favourite Shakespeare works, despite seeming childish to some..” William noticed she spoke with a slight accent and her features them self were not common ones in a British noble lady. She was a foreigner.

“Well it wasn’t ever a favourite of mine, why would you like it so much?” William asked curiously, aching to hear her opinion

“There’s a deeper meaning. There usually is with William Shakespeare’s plays,” (name) replied “Like this quote alludes to religion..

‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here’”

A/N: really hating how messy my blog is atm so I’m gonna sort that out but anyways- second chapter and first William appearance wow. Also stan y/n our feminist icon. I listened to Taylor’s ‘the man’ whilst writing this lol. I really like ur feedback so please just send stuff in. It doesn’t even have to be about the writing u can just tell me about how your best friends aunts dog ate a stick and threw it up or whatever. I just really like interacting with u all okay byeee 😭

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #mtp william #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuumori x reader

[demonicintegrity]

Episode 5 is where Harry and Meghan got to me. Up until this point my interest in the docuseries and in them is very much just pleasant curiosity, even with the immense sympathy for what they were going through. After this episode I am more or less flabbergasted and pissed at so much.

Starting off, up until this point I assumed the British media was doing this on their own. Their sense of entitlement and racist attitudes was just a reflection of bigoted greed. I thought the royal family was just bystanding, a false neutrality with no care for how that affects them. But the leaks.

The fucking leaks.

I don’t know how as an institute, you can be comfortable with private plans and documents getting leaked like that to the public. How are you not concerned with security? If shit like that is so easy to leak, both in terms of the people accessing it and leaking and also being okay with that, how are you not concerned that something else could leak?

Someone had gotten their hands on a letter from Meghan. She went through the trouble of trying to be sneaky about it, and yet it still somehow ended up in the Mail’s hands. Who knows if her father even got to see that actual one. And yet nothing was done about it.

And instead of being honest that they weren’t going to pursue legal action, they led Harry and Meghan on for weeks. They had to sue on their own, further adding fuel to the media campaign against them.

And then the plans to move to South America was leaked. Plans about this transition in whatever form were in development for years and it’s gone in a single leak.

Why was the palace so okay with that? Why isn’t it concerning to them that these things are leaked? Why are they so willing to be quiet? Surely, fucking surely, if this can happen to Harry and Meghan it could happen to them too.

I get my answer soon enough when Harry says the details about potentially revoking their titles is revealed only in his email to his father. An email Harry explicitly didn’t want make for this reason. I am willing to bet money it was his father, now King Charles. He leaked that one. Who else could’ve been on that email? Even if he written up a draft for something or other with it, how many people realistically should’ve saw it? What did they have to gain to leak it, so early in development? Money’s money i guess, but even then, you’d think it’d concern fellow staff and royals just how little integrity staffers would have if it’s them leaking. The emails were apparently from the 1st to 3rd and the leak was days after. They weren’t even ready to go through with it this time.

Backtracking for a second here, that letter was only sent because Meghan apparently became responsible for getting her father in line. I still find it incredulous that her father was speaking out on how terrible the family is treating her and he’s concerned and the family goes >:/ at that. So bothered. Bothered enough that when Meghan is like “hey this is happening in the news please advise I am actively trying not to cause strife with you” theyre like “write a letter” and then dont give a shit that the letter is leaked to the very news they’re having problems with! Fucking hell.

Anyways, the letter’s leaked and nothings done about it. The plans to leave are leaked. The plans to leave again are leaked, this time with a nice dose of “no you cannot see your grandma now.” Which I call bullshit on with the Late Queen btw. You’re telling me as the head monarch, you make plans with your grandson. That is the first obligation you made for the time, made entirely by yourself. Then, entirely unknown to you somehow, your week is full. And despite being the literal Queen of England, you cannot move anything around in your own schedule? Either she was being pushed around a lot in that old age or that characteristic quiet she has was just her being a doormat. In her own words (allegedly i suppose but what reason would Harry have to lie about this?) Harry was the first one she made obligations too but didn’t even bother to try and make it work at any point in that week.

Personally, if I made plans with someone, especially family who I know is struggling and want to see me, I would do those plans. It’s whoever I promised first for that time. And If i absolutely cannot, I apologize and reschedule.

I would also, in the place of any other family member or staff who decided the Queen’s schedule was full only when Harry tried to visit, not try and interfere with someone trying to have a chat with their grandmother. At best it’s rude not to give notice to those kind of things and at worse it’s a selfish piece of shit move.

AND THEN, you have this royal meeting without Meghan. Because that’s so fair. It gets heated and again, I’m calling bullshit on the Late Queen being quiet. You’re telling me as the head of the family you’re gonna watch your family turn on each other in an ugly way and saying nothing? You’re gonna watch the press lie and say you were blindsighted, painting your grandson as disrespecting you, and say nothing?

She either was pushed around by the other family and staff or a doormat. I cannot for the life of me decide which is worse. Because the former is direct disrespect for your respected and loved family member and the latter is said family member not caring enough to make a stand everyone knew would change things. Blasted woman had all this power and influence and not once tried to use a fraction of it to even encourage the press to back off of her family. What horseshit.

But of course, when William is accused of bullying, damn near instantly there’s a statement. That Harry hadn’t seen much less consented to have his name on. All this nothing for Meghan and Harry but the second the press thinks “hm, could William have a hand in this wedge? Could it be possible he’s kinda a dick about things?” suddenly they can say something.

The sympathy I had for the royal family dies here.

With this bombshell after bombshell, Meghan’s hate is a coordinated attack on twitter. I don’t know why that surprised me but it did. I think whats most surprising is how few people it took to create such a consistent storm. Once again we are seeing what unregulated harassment does. What awful seeds are planted and maintained in a echo chamber in the name of free speech without consequences. And even though Meghan is far from the first and only to be targeted, nothing will be done. She isn’t even offered support from the family she marries into once again.

The paparazzi doesn’t leave her alone. Once again no one cares about the trespassing and stalking. This is seen as acceptable for some fucking bizarre reason. I hope each and everyone of those bastards trying to peak at a family so obviously trying to be left alone gets dragged through the mud. Truly, there is no standard of morals these days.

What got me to the point of rage is when Meghan flips through her security book and a death threat tweet is an example of what needs to be reported. I think I’m jaded enough where the knowledge that she likely had death (and probably rape) threats was there, but didn’t register as much. Unfortunately I am part of the generation that grew up on this new tech. Someone getting these threats is fairly run of the mill here. To the point of what really can be done. It’s lost it’s effect, or so I thought. Until I am reminded that death threats are treated severely for a good reason. Until I am shown a person who isn’t jaded by the internet horrors reacting to this and I’m reminded that 1) this shouldn’t be just the normal internet experience and 2) seeing people echo again and again that you should be dead weighs on you. Especially combined with the stalking from the paparazzi.

I am reminded that these are real people experiencing things they shouldn’t be experiencing.

When I only knew of Harry and Meghan through skimmed headlines once in a bluemoon, I was also on team “Youre stepping back from the royal family why would you get royal protection?” I mean, it was simply just a courtesy at that point right?

Now realizing just how harassed they were, it wasn’t just pulling security. It was pulling security on a very short notice on their family with a toddler knowing damn well what harassment they were facing.

This family did not give a shit if anything happened to them. Did not give a shit for their piece of mind, for their physical safety, for anything. Even if it was a courtesy, you’re telling me a couple that has undergone so much harassment from day one, your family, didn’t deserve it? Especially when the original plan was to still do things for the Queen and commonwealth but just financially independently now?

What a load of shit. The way I would’ve cut all contact and burned bridges immediately. This isnt just a dysfunctional family, this is a truly hateful one.

#This docuseries has stopped being just a fun thing to watch in my downtime me thinks #harry and mehgan #prince harry #meghan markle #harry & meghan

[mask131]

Ségurant, the Knight of the Dragon (2/4)

Let us continue down our path along the documentary. Here is the German version of it, by the way, if you are interested.

So, last time we left with the sad conclusion that the origins of Ségurant were not from Great-Britain: he appears nowhere in England, Scotland or Wales. If there is nothing in British land, the next move is of course towards the land where Ségurant's tale was first found out, and the second main source when it came to Arthuriana: France.

The documentary reminds us that the Arthurian crossed the seas and arrived in France in the 12th century. It was first written about in France by a man from Normandy named Wace (who was the one who invented the Round Table), and then it was time for Chrétien de Troyes and his famous romans (first romans in French literary history and the beginning of the romanesque genre) – which became best-sellers, translated, imitated, continued and rewritten throughout all of Europe, becoming the “norm” of the literary culture of Europe at the time (in non-Latin language of course). Chrétien de Troyes’ novel became especially popular among the expanding cities and newly formed bourgeoisies of the time, making Lancelot and Perceval true European heroes, and resulting in thousands of Arthurian manuscripts being sent and created everywhere.

There is a brief intervention of Michel Zink explaining what was so specific about Chrétien’s romans: by the time Chrétien wrote his novels, the legend of king Arthur was well-known and famous enough that the author did not feel the need to remind it or expand about it. As in: Chrétien’s novels all happen at the court of king Arthur, or begin at the court of Arthur, but none of them are about Arthur himself. Arthur and his court are just the “background” of his stories – Chrétien’s heroes are the knights of the Round Table, who were until this point basically secondary characters in Arthur’s own story. And all the novels of Chrétien follow the same basic structure of “education novel”: they are all about a young man who goes on a quest or goes on adventures, and in the process discovers his own identity and/or love and/or his destiny. And they all end with the young man being worthy of sitting at the Round Table ; or if they were already at the Round Table, they are even worthier of sitting at it.

But then the documentary completely ditches the French aspect to move to… Italy. As Arioli explains, as he was investigating the origin of the Prophéties de Merlin manuscript in which Segurant’s story was consigned, he checked an inventory of all the Merlin’s Prophecies manuscripts and thus entered in contact with the one that had made it, Nathalie Koble. And talking with her, she led him to a Merlin’s Prophecy manuscript kept in Italy – more precisely in the Biblioteca Marciana of Venice, one of the greatest collections of medieval manuscripts in the world. The documentary goes through a brief reminder of how in the 13th century the Republic of Venice was one of the greatest sea-powers of Europe, and formed the crossroad between the Orient and the Occident through which all the precious goods travelled (spices, silk… but also books) ; and how in the 14th century Petrarch had the project of making a public library in Venice and offered his own collection of books to the city, leading to what would become a century later the Biblioteca Marciana… And so we reach the manuscript Koble showed Arioli. A very humble manuscript of the Prophéties de Merlin – no illumination, no illustration, a small size, not of the best quality ; but that’s all because it was a mass-produced best-seller at the time in Venice. Koble briefly reminds us of the enormous success of the genre of the Merlin Prophecies ; of how French was spoken in Venice because it was the vernacular language of nobility (hence why this manuscript is in French) ; and of who was Merlin and why his prophecies interested so much (being the son of a human virgin and an incubus devil, he had many powers, such as metamorphosis – transforming himself or others – and seeing both the future and the past, aka “existing beyond temporality and memories” as Koble puts it). And finally she points out the very interesting detail that the Merlin Prophecies are always coded, need to be deciphered… But the process is very easy for anyone who is an informed reader.

Indeed, many of the “prophecies” of Merlin are actually coded and metaphorical descriptions of events part of the Arthurian legend. Koble presents us a specific prophecy: “A leopard named Of the Lake will go to the kingdom of Logres and will open his heart to the crowned snake. But he will sleep with a white snake and remove its virginity, while believing he slept with the crowned snake”. For a fan of Arthuriana, it is clear that the “leopard of the lake” is Lancelot du Lac, while the “crowned snake” is Guinevere.

And then, Koble showed Arioli a prophecy contained in this manuscript that apparently was about Ségurant. “Know that the dragon-hunter will be bewitched at the Winchester tournament. A stone will shine on his tent, projecting a great light outside and inside. When he will be king in the Orient, this stone will be placed onto his crown. When he will cross the sea to visit my grave, he will place the stone within the altar of Our-Lady (Notre-Dame). And thus, the dragon of Babylon will seize it.” The prophecy clearly is about Ségurant. Now, the actual author of this manuscript is unknown – as Koble explains, 13th century romanciers who wrote in prose loved inventing false identities for themselves, many times passing off as Merlin himself. The alias of the author of this specific manuscript is “Richard of Ireland”, but Koble’s personal research found out he was actually a man of Venice. Indeed numerous prophecies in the book describes the landscape surrounding Venice or Venice itself ; and there are many references to the political events of Venice at the end of the 13th century.

So, in conclusion: Ségurant was a great heroic figure in the region of Venice at the time. And so Arioli became convinced that Ségurant’s origins were to be found in Northern Italy, and spread from Venice to the rest of Europe.

Our next move is to the Italian Alps – to the Italian Tyrol, and more specifically to Roncolo Castle. Built in the 13th century, it was then bought in 1385 by the Vintler brothers, Nicolas and Francesco/François. The Vintler brothers were part of a bourgeois family that had recently become part of the nobility, and to play onto this, to “legitimate” their nobility and show they had well “adopted” the lifestyle of the nobility, they commissioned a set of medieval frescos, filled with knights and ladies, bestiary animals (fictional or real). To this day, the frescos of Roncolo Castle still form the greatest cycle of Arthurian wall-paintings in the world. And the most interesting part of those paintings, for Arioli’s investigation, is the “Gallery of the Triads”. A gallery where, as the name says, triads are depicted, representing the ideals of knighthood. There is a triad of the “greatest kings” – King Arthur, Charlemagne and Godfrey of Bouillon. There is a triad of the “three greatest knights of the Round Table”: Perceval, Gawain and Yvain (the Knight of the Lion). There is the “three most famous couple of lovers”, with Tristan and Isolde at the center. And finally we have the triad of the “Three most famous heroes”. Only two of them are named – one being Theodoric “with his sword”. And the other… Is “Siegfried, with his crown-depicting shield, as he was described in the Song of the Nibelungen”.

And here’s the new twist in our investigation. Siegfried… Ségurant… Two dragon-killers with similar names. As it is explained in the documentary, the Tyrol was not a closed land, but rather the junction point between Southern Germany and Northern Italy. As a result, Germanic literature was just as popular here as the Arthurian legend – in fact we have a 13th century manuscript written in the Tyrol that contains the Song of the Nibelungs. And so here is Arioli’s new theory: Siegfried crossed the Tyrol, reached Italy, and there became Segurant, the Knight of the Dragon.

The documentary finally gives us the next part of Ségurant’s story, as Arioli first discovered it in the Arsenal manuscript: New character appears! “La fée Morgane” – dear Morgan le Fay, half-sister of King Arthur. “In her castle, the fairy Morgane invoked a devil from Hell. Devil, what is your name? she asked. I am called Lucifer, and I am called Dragon, because I swallow the souls of the sinners. She answered: I needed someone like you for sure!” (I roughly translate here). But here is the idea: the dragon of the legend is not just any mere or random dragon, it is a devil (in fact THE devil himself), invoked by Morgan and obeying her. As the tale continues, we learn that Morgan sent the dragon to cause chaos and panic at the Winchester tournament. “Suddenly, a wall of fire appeared ; behind the flames was a hideous dragon”. And seeing the monster, Ségurant swore that, if he did not set free the kingdom of Logres from the dragon, he would not live one more day. And so he crossed the wall of fire and “forgot everybody, himself as well as the others, he forgot everything, except for the dragon, his sole obsession”. (You might recall this as being a very common trope among French Arthurian roman, like in Lancelot or the Knight of the Cart, where Lancelot every time he sees Guinevere forgets everyone around him, forgets where he is or what he is supposed to do, forgets even his own name, and has his mind only and solely filled with Guinevere. That’s a typical French Arthurian knight thing part of the whole aesthetic of knighthood at the time – but I might explain more about this later).

And yet another twist in the story… Because the roman says that Ségurant could NOT kill the dragon. Why? Because the dragon was “a pure spirit”. And “a spirit, be it good or evil, never dies”. WHAT A TWIST!

We return to the documentary. Crossing the Alps on the search for Siegfried, Arioli stops next by the castle of Drakenburg in Germany – built in 1882 by a wealthy banker, this Neo-Gothic castle is a great homage to the Nibelungenlied – The Song of the Nibelungs. The documentary also reminds us that, at the end of the 19th century, medieval legends were back into fashion thanks to Wagner’s cycle of operas “The Ring of the Nibelungen”. Now, the Song of the Nibelungs is described as “essentially the story of two great families of heroes, the Burgundian heroes and the Xanten heroes. The Song begins when a great hero from the Xanten “side of the world” arrives in the “Burgundian world” – this great hero is Siegfried. And the story of how Siegfried killed a dragon is… a mere mention. An allusion. The Song is not about it, it does not describe it directly, it is another voice that recalls briefly how Siegfried killed a dragon and bathed in its blood. Thus we see that – similarly to what Chrétien did with Arthur – at the time the Song was written, the author and the audience were supposed to know already very well the Siegfried legend. They knew it well enough that it was seen as unnecessary to recall it, a brief mention is enough.

Now, it is easy to admit that Ségurant le Chevalier au Dragon might be a variation of the same myth to which Siegfried the dragon-hunter belongs – similar names, both killed a dragon AND both are also famous for “crossing a wall of fire”. The myth of Siegfried widespread, existing over a large chunk of territory in Europe – not just Germany, but also France, Italy and the Nordic lands. However, while the stories of Siegfried have appeared in the “heart” of Europe around the 1200s, the myth actually pre-existed in Northern Europe for a much older time – in Sweden, in Norway and in Iceland, before Siegfried appeared, there was his Norse ancestor… Sigurd.

And so, this is the next step in the Ségurant investigation: Sigurd, the hero of the Viking sagas.

#arthuriana #arthurian myth #arthurian legend #arthurian literature #ségurant #segurant #le chevalier au dragon #the knight of the dragon #morgan le fay #merlin #siegfried #sigurd #italian literature #french literature #european myths

[fumblingmusings]

Can you tell us more about asakiku with fem England? I really adore the concept like normal asakiku hits hard, but with Evelyn hits harder

Okay so in 1910 there was this Japanese-British Exhibition in London where essentially Japan was trying to prove that A) Their products were worth buying B) That their imperialism was benevolent just like the British (I shouldn't need to put a qualifying statement here but obviously this is false on both ends) and C) That they were a worthy Great Power good enough to be on equal standing with the UK.

Japan spent an enormous sum of money on it despite being sort of bankrupt following the Russo-Japanese War. They built two gardens, sent around 22,550 square metres worth of stuff as well as parked a few ships at Kent to prove that yes, their alliance was a naval one and yes, they had the guns to back it up.

It was - I guess in Hetalia terms - Kiku being a giant simp. Get you a guy willing to build you a gyroscopically stable monorail and take you for a 1 mile round trip around the park. Just for you ~

Still can't say the 'L' word though.

What I find hilarious is the Japanese were disappointed with how it turned out - not finding aspects sophisticated enough (the model villages which were so common at the time were particularly criticised [not for the right reasons mind you]). Meanwhile Britain, who the entire thing was for, fell absolutely in love with it and like 8 million people turned up.

So... let's say Evelyn in particular adored the gardens, because she is such a green thumb, and made sure one of the gates was moved to Kew Gardens once the exhibition closed, but it wasn't until the 90s where the Japanese gardens were designed that it was properly given a home. The gate needed to go through an absolute ball ache of a restoration project but it's worth it because she loves it and him even if she isn't able to admit it just yet (a few more years maybe, then they can sit together in the garden and just breath).

She does one more big act of kindness for him, one that he cannot shake even after the collapse of their alliance, and I like the idea of it sort of haunting him for a good number of years.

There's a tree in Kew gardens - in the Japanese garden that is - of a white cherry blossom tree. It's a Japanese tree, but it had become extinct in its home by the 20s. Yes, Japan has many types of cherry trees, but still, it's one of the most beautiful versions (white, rather than the pink ones gifted to DC and such). But then in the 1930s, some English guy went 'wait a minute' and found the tree in Southern England of all places. So they took some cuttings, and gifted the tree back to Japan.

I like the idea of it really taking Kiku aback. That even when - at that point in time - they're supposed to be nothing to each other, and he maybe is still nursing a bit of a broken heart and a bruised ego and we know Kiku can be... let's say passive aggressive (like what do you mean Ludwig and Evelyn slept together in '27?!?!?!?) she still gives him a little piece of himself back. He cannot understand for a long time why.

#hetalia #headcanon #hws japan #hws england #fem!england #q&a #fanfic ask #asakiku

[tsarisfanfiction]

Leaving Home

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Jerry, Yan, Jerry's Mum It's a long way from London to New York, and an even longer way when it means leaving behind your family. At least Jerry still had Yan, though. TOApril day 4 - Facing the Unknown, and I continue to write about the youngest canon Apollo kids, apparently. Given how little we know about them, this is of course completely full of headcanons. I have spent entirely too much time thinking about the logistics of a London kid and a Hong Kong kid ending up at Camp, whoops... And am I relishing writing a canonically British kid and not having to overthink whether or not an American kid would say that? Of course not, why would you ever think that? (Yes, yes I am)

Heathrow Airport was huge.  Jerry was a born and bred Londoner; crowds didn’t bother him, and while he knew to keep his few valuables – wallet, passport – hidden away beneath layers of clothing where it wasn’t going to get lost or stolen, he had no fear of bodies pressing against him as they rushed past on their way to wherever they were trying to get to.

Jerry wasn’t rushing.  He didn’t want to rush, because this was scary.

Not the crowds at the airport.  That wasn’t scary.  Jerry was used to crowds, grew up with them, knew how to dart through bodies to get where he needed to be.

He gripped his mum’s hand more tightly as he watched his suitcase – it was huge and heavy and also far, far, too small – trundle down the conveyor belt to get eaten by the thick dangling plastic strips and disappear from sight.  It started to feel real, now, and Jerry’s stomach was churning because he didn’t want it to be real.

It had been scary when the thing had attacked him, all claws and teeth and dangerous, and he laughed about the old janitor with a limp battering the thing away with a sopping wet mop when he thought about it, because that was funny.  A monster wanting to kill him and only not killing him because the janitor was actually a satyr like Mr Tumnus from that book his junior school had forced him to read, except this Mr Tumnus was a good fighter and something about his mop had made the monster explode into dust, was scary.

Even if the satyr thing was sort of cool.

No amount of satyr Mr Tumnus coolness (except Mr Tumnus was not cool, Jerry hadn’t really liked him, but then he hadn’t really liked the book, anyway.  Peter with his sword was pretty cool, and some of the creatures were, but Lucy was annoying and Edmund was stupid and he didn’t even remember the name of the other girl) could make up for this, though.  One too-big but also too-small suitcase full of all his favourite clothes and cricket bat and mum’s ball and crowds in an airport, and holding his mum’s hand tightly as though he was a baby.

Jerry didn’t want to leave.  He didn’t want to go to America, or New York, or whatever the name of the camp he was being sent to was.  He wanted to stay in London, watch Middlesex’s next match at Lords because he knew Grandma had promised Mum to buy him tickets, play with his friends, and keep training to be the England captain when he was grown up.

He couldn’t be England’s captain if he wasn’t even in England!

Stupid monsters attacking him.  Stupid camp in America he had to go to.  Mum wasn’t happy about it, either, but she’d been firm when he’d tried to tell her he wasn’t going.  He’d eavesdropped on her Skype calls with some bearded guy that apparently ran the camp, and she’d had a lot to say that didn’t sound happy, but she was still sending him away.

Jerry had tried every trick he could think of to not go, but now all his favourite stuff was going on the plane – all his favourite stuff except his mum – it was all real and big boys don’t cry but Jerry wanted to so badly.

The stupid airport had barely anything to do.  It had crowds everywhere but they were all queues, either for the Costa Coffee that Mum had taken him to earlier, letting him have a triple chocolate muffin for breakfast, or for the big metal arches that everyone had to go through one at a time.

Everyone who was going on a plane, anyway.

Those metal arches were where Jerry was going to have to say goodbye.

They were where Mum was guiding him now, looking at her watch and then the departure boards.  Jerry didn’t get what the rush was – it was still hours until that stupid plane to New York took off – but she was acting like they were running out of time and he needed time to stop, go backwards, make it so that this didn’t happen at all.

Yan appeared next to him, with just their backback slung over one shoulder carelessly now their own big case had also been munched by the heavy plastic strips.  Mum didn’t let Jerry wear his like that, and Jerry knew better, anyway.  Yan had lived in London for a year but they still hadn’t worked out that being careless with bags was stupid.

Jerry liked the older kid.  They didn’t make fun of him for not being able to spell, or for caring more about cricket than school (who cared about school more than cricket, anyway?).  He hadn’t known them very long, because they were in the year above him and the older years didn’t mix with the younger years, but he’d met them a few times in the gym, and on the playing ground at lunch time.  They were good with throwing a ball, and good at batting, too, even if they still refused to admit cricket was the best sport in the world.

They’d also been there when he was attacked.

When they were attacked, because Jerry wasn’t the only one being forced on a plane to stupid America-New-York-Camp-Stupid, but Yan didn’t seem to care much.

But Yan’s mum was back in Hong Kong and Jerry didn’t think they’d spoken to her much since they’d arrived in England.  They hadn’t said much about why they were in London without their mum, why they called the adults they lived with Mr and Mrs with manners and nothing else, but Jerry thought this wasn’t the first time they’d been told they had to go move elsewhere.

Yan didn’t say stupid things like “you’ll enjoy it” or “you won’t even miss England once you’re there” or any of the other things Mum had tried to say, and not-Mr-Tumnus had tried to say.  Yan didn’t say anything at all on the topic, agreeing with him that America was full of heathens that didn’t understand how to play a perfectly good game instead.

At least he was going with Yan, if he had to go with anyone, Jerry supposed.  Yan was pretty cool.

The man that met them near the metal gates had a big smile and sharp cheekbones.  His ears were kinda pointy, which was weird but also cool.  Jerry hadn’t known people could have pointy ears like that.  He wore a smart dark blue suit and a colourful red, dark blue and white tie, which looked a lot like the sorts of things the flight attendants wore on the billboards.

“Hey there, kids,” he said, and he had a weird accent, mostly British but with a little bit of a twang when he said hey.  “My name’s Geoff and I’ll be looking after you guys until we meet with your escort Stateside.”

Jerry didn’t want to go with him.  Going with him meant saying goodbye to Mum and he didn’t know when he would see her again, because she wouldn’t say when he asked!  All he knew was that this was because he got attacked, because his Dad had ways to keep him safe if he went to America that apparently couldn’t happen here, in London.

No-one had told him how Yan fit into this, exactly.  The older kid was looking at the flight attendant intently, before nodding.

“Yan,” they said.  “They/them.”

Jerry prepared to punch the guy if he said anything mean.  Almost everyone at school, including the teachers, and insisted on calling Yan he for stupid reasons like “you’re a boy,” when Yan wasn’t, and not-Mr-Tumnus had been one of the few cool adults that didn’t.

The guy didn’t say anything stupid, though.  “Neat!” he said instead, “thanks for telling me.  You okay with ‘guys’ or do you want me to drop that?”  He didn’t even sound sarcastic, and Jerry saw Yan relax a little.

“Guys is fine,” they said, and Jerry saw them grin, a little bit.  They liked this guy, he realised, and that meant he couldn’t be mean to him, because Yan didn’t like many people.

“I’m Jerry,” he said, and because Yan had, he added, “he/him.”

They got another grin from Geoff.  “He/him for me, too,” he said, a bit late but it was better than pretty much everyone else.  “We’ve got to tackle security soon,” he added, and Jerry frowned, because that meant leaving.  Geoff put a hand on his shoulder and he wanted to snap at him to mind his space, but there was a look in his eyes that made Jerry falter.

“I-” he started, and to his horror he started crying after all.

Mum grabbed him in a tight hug.  “Oh Jerry,” she said, and her voice was shaky.  “You’re so brave.  Get Chiron to call me when you arrive, and screw the timezones.  I expect you to Skype me regularly, okay?”

She’d said all of that before, back before Jerry had had to say goodbye to his bedroom and its weirdly bare walls.  His posters were carefully rolled up in his too-big-too-small suitcase, too.  Jerry had already promised all of that, but he promised it again, sobbing and trying not to feel like a baby.

Yan and Geoff had walked away a few steps, he discovered when Mum finally pulled back, but not after leaving a disgustingly wet kiss on his forehead.  “I love you, Jerry,” she told him firmly.  “Never doubt that.”

“Love you too, Mummy,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve because he was not a crybaby.  Yan’s host family had left them at the entrance as soon as they’d seen him and Mum, and Yan had simply shook their hands and thanked them for letting them live under their roof for the past year.  They hadn’t cried.

He didn’t know if they had when they’d left their mum, though.  Maybe they had.

Maybe Jerry would be brave enough to ask, one day.

“Ready to go on your adventure?” Geoff asked him, and Jerry wasn’t but Yan was waiting for him and he was done being a crybaby.

“I’m coming,” he said, and gave Mum one last, tight squeeze around the middle, before he straightened his back and walked away.

Yan slipped their hand into his and squeezed it lightly.  Boys didn’t hold hands, but Yan wasn’t a boy so that was fine.  Jerry squeezed it back, tighter.

He was still terrified, but he could be brave.  He wiped his eyes furiously as Yan and Geoff led him towards the metal arch and once he was certain they were dry he turned around.

Mum was crying, but she was smiling, too, and he waved at her, not stopping until Yan led him around a corner and he lost sight of her.

“It’s rough,” Geoff said as he directed them into putting their backpacks and coats into deep plastic trays, and made them take their shoes off.  He did the same thing.  “I was about your age when I had to move to the States without my Mum, too.  Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not brave for doing it, because it’s hard and by the gods we deserve medals for that.”

Yan snorted.  “I want two medals, then,” they said.

Geoff grinned.  “I’ll see what I can manage,” he promised.  “Now, through the box you go, then we’ll go watch the planes come in from the VIP lounge until ours gets here.  How does that sound, guys?”

VIP lounge.  Jerry supposed he liked the sound of that, at least.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril 2024 #tsari writes fanfiction #toa jerry #toa yan #toa jerry's mum #gwendolyn allen #geoff keys #original character

[jaggedcliffs]

I think aside from Dracula's scorn for the common people we see by and large the majority of the common people in the then-kingdom (Transylvania and Budapest) not only fear him but also are shown as being right to want nothing to do with his ambitions and nostalgia. It's one of the reasons why I dislike several adaptations that have the citizens deliberately sending Jonathan (or even their own people!) to him, or without even giving him the Crucifix (which was risky of her: Dracula had sent Jonathan to her family's inn) and all the flowers, or the coachman risking his life as well in defiance. Or without them helping Jonathan leave and send him to a hospital for free which he would have legit died without. When Mina goes to Transylvania she too gets the same hospitality despite her obvious creeping vampirism and she wishes she could get to live to visit the place with Jonathan one day (and they do so in the epilogue!). Those parts get cut too in retellings and maybe irrationally irritate me because they paint us all as bad instead of the feudal vampire lord lol. Anyway yes I have feelings about this part of the nuance that they erase oh sorry it got long feel free to ignore

Yes, very good points! And that's what makes it a good interrogation of class! The people Jonathan and Mina encounter are decent people as well. The people help Jonathan all they can and want Dracula gone. (even if Stoker's description of clothing/looks/etc. on May 4th and 5th is very...well, it often fall into the inherently racist genre of "British person travelogue depicting the quaint inhabitants of a 'backwards' land")

But it shows how much Dracula is wrong about the "common people," driving home how awful his classist views are, and all the better at driving home the violence the upper class does to the lower class -- that metaphor now literalized. It helps that we get to know these people even in the little glimpses we're given, fleshing them out to real characters and not just caricatures (unlike the Rromani and Slovaks, who unfortunately don't get the same sympathetic treatment).

(There's also a good post going around comparing Stoker's treatment of foreigners to a similar story in The Beetle, published around the same time. It talks about that for all the racism/xenophobia in Dracula, and for all Bram Stoker was quite racist even for his time, Dracula still has some nuance for those England would consider "Other," compared to The Beetle. But I haven't read The Beetle so I can't say more. And also I can't find the post because I didn't put in my queue :/ )

You'd think that if an adaptation kept the "foreign invasion" stuff, it could at least do as decent a job depicting Eastern Europeans as a novel from the 1890s -_- But just as with the nuanced depiction of gender in the novel, apparently that's still beyond us

#dracula #jonathan harker #mina harker #racism #meta #asks #jagged posts about dracula

[i-eat-worlds]

Alex & Friends Part 9-Telecommunications and Transportation

Alex and Joseph have some bonding time. Also: a pinch of Plot cw: bandage changing, dissociation, French person briefly making fun of the Brits, cursing

“Please state your identication code.” The robotic voice chirped. “Five-Seven-Nine, Alfa, Lima. Codename: Midnight,” Alex said into the phone.

“Welcome, Midnight. Connecting you to Handler Seventy-Three.” The machine beeped, then transferred over to her Handler. There was a beat before he answered. “Good morning, Midnight.” He said in a posh British accent. It was so present that it almost sounded like he was faking it. “I’m glad your extraction went smoothly.”

Alex wanted to correct him, because no it fucking didn’t, but she refrained from that. “For the future,” Alex said, trying not to grit her teeth, “I would appreciate a heads-up before you send a team for me.” She left out that she thought she was being kidnapped and recaptured, because she doubted he would care.

There's a pause on the other side of the phone. “I was not made aware of the activation of an extraction team until after the fact.” Liar.

“Are you aware that I’m being sent to a safehouse?” Alex asked. He knew, there was no way he didn’t. He was her handler, he wouldn’t have been left in the dark.

“Really? I was not, no.” Another lie. “You are far more valuable in the field. I do not know why they would seriously consider a safe house to be a viable option. I’ve talked about this before, INSUPA needs more aggressive tactics.” Alex held in a sigh. He was giving the muckety-muck speech to her again. “I’ll do my best to return you to work. I’ll call you when I have results.” “Thank you,” Alex said, then quickly spoke again before he hung up. “Maybe lie less though, seventy-three.” The line went dead. Alex took a deep breath, trying to cleanse the icky feeling that these conversations always left her with. He was so infuriating, and she couldn’t even pinpoint why. She took another calming breath, then hooked the phone back on the wall. It was probably time to start heading to the plane. Her bandages could wait until after they’d landed. Safehouse or bust.

******** The tarmac was still slightly damp with morning dew, the temperature cool but not cold. Joseph had deposited several of his bags in a pile with the rest of his team's things, only keeping a small backpack with him. They boarded while the plane fueled and loaded their luggage. The plane was small, but the interior was comfortable. The team chose their seats and started putting their bags away. “So Aarav, excited to be going back home?” Avia asked, stowing her bag in the overhead bin.

“Nobody in the history of ever has been excited about going to London, mon pote.” Sil joked as he collapsed into his seat. “You can’t bug me about being from England until twenty four hours after an injury, you know the rules.” Aarav joked back.

Sil opened his mouth to continue the banter, but was cut off by Joseph “If y’all are like this the whole flight, I’m going to tell the pilot to crash us into the channel.” “Yessir.” Sil did a two finger salute. “I will not antagonize Aarav intentionally. No promises that he won’t be annoyed by my mere presence, though.”

The conversation was interrupted by Alex boarding the plane. Her hands were empty, as she didn’t have anything to carry on, and she briskly walked to the back of the plane, taking the seat furthest towards the tail end. He couldn’t imagine that she was happy about this whole protective detail thing, but she looked like someone had really got to her. Once they were in the air, he’d need to change her bandages. He hadn’t seen the wound since when he was really more worried about keeping her blood inside her body. She also needed to start antibiotics. Rivers aren’t good places to swim around in with open wounds, generally speaking. After a couple minutes, they were informed that it was time for take off, and they buckled their seatbelts as the plane taxied down the runway. The plane picked up speed and lifted off, heading towards London. Eventually, the plane stopped climbing, and they were declared “free to roam about the cabin.”

By this point, half the plane was out cold. Eric was quietly snoring, Avia was leaned against the window, and Aarav had reclined his seat as far back as it would go. Sil was absorbed by a game on a Switch that was definitely not his, and Teri was paging through an old Superhero’s Today magazine, waiting for the caffeine high to wear off so she could get some shut eye. After grabbing his bag from the overhead bin, he walked down the aisle to the back of the cabin, where Alex was seated. A thick file was open on her lap. When she heard him coming, she flipped it closed and set it on the chair beside her. “Watcha need, Joseph?” She said the words in a casual tone, but he could tell her guard had gone up. “Just checkin’ in.” He sat down in the aisle so that he wouldn’t loom over her. “I’m going to need to check your wound, if that’s alright.”

Joseph watched Alex tense up at the idea. “Where do you need me?” She asked.

“Can you straighten your leg and turn to the side? Tell me if it hurts.” He said as he pushed the moveable armrest out of the way. Alex twisted, allowing him to access the wound. “I know the graze has to hurt, but does anything feel off anywhere else?” “Just the hip.” Alex answered. “Hurts like a bitch.”

“I’ll get you something for that after we’re done.” He withdrew the supplies he would need from his bag, then pulled a pair of nitrile gloves over his hands. “I need to pull down your pants a little bit to see your wound, is that okay?” Alex nodded, and helpfully pulled her shirt up out of the way while Joseph tugged down the side of her pants just enough to uncover the ABD pad covering the wound. To help keep the area clean, he draped a blue surgical towel over the seat.

“I’m going to touch it now.” He warned as he reached for the tape. Alex tensed up at his words, but she didn’t say anything. Slowly, he peeled the tape off, then tossed it and the old ABD pad into the orange baggie serving as his trash can. The skin around the wound wasn’t puffy or inflamed, which he took as a good sign. It didn’t take long for him to unravel the kerlix packing; the wound wasn’t that deep. She’d done a technique job dressing it. There wasn’t any debris left in the wound either, so she’d cleaned it too. She must’ve had medical training at some point, then. “Looks good,” He said as he ripped open his roll of kerlix. “It’s already starting to heal.” It was when he set about wetting the packing material when he realized that Alex looked barely present. Her fingers were curled tightly around her shirt, as if she was hanging on for dear life, but her eyes were glazed over, her jaw slack. Shit. She was dissociating. “Hey, Alex?” He tried, waving a hand in front of her face. She blinked a little bit, shaking her head.

“Sorry,” She said, looking down at where Joseph was tending to her wound. “I uhhh…”

“Nah, It’s okay. No need to apologize,” Joseph said. “I know it can be a lot. Is it okay for me to keep going?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Alex said, her voice quiet.

Joseph nodded, then returned to his work. After ensuring the wound was clean, he packed it. Alex gritted her teeth when the kerlix made contact. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He said as he finished packing it. Luckily, the wound wasn’t too deep, and it didn’t take very long. He covered the wound with an ABD pad, then taped it in place. “All done.” He declared, stripping off his gloves so that one glove was inside another and tossing them. Alex pulled her pants back up over the bandage, and dropped her shirt back down. “So, I’m gonna start you on antibiotics, just to ward off anything that might’ve gotten in during your swim in the river, on top of the pain meds.” He quickly unscrewed the safety caps and dumped two ibuprofen and a Moxafloxacin into Alex’s cupped hand. When he handed her a water bottle from his bag, she’d already swallowed them dry. She took the water anyway, taking a drink that might’ve been for his benefit. “Tell me if anything else hurts, yeah?” He said as packed up his things and stood to return to his seat. “Can do, doc.” Alex said, her relaxed tone returning. He gave a thumbs up and a nod as a walked back to his seat. For a brief moment her tone turned genuine. “Thank you. For your help.”

Joseph smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps

#worlds babbles #whump #medical whump #stoic whumpee #medic caretaker #tw dissociation #cw dissociation #alexoc #alex & friends #joseph oc #avia oc #sil oc #teri oc #aarav ov #eric oc

[adoracora-elizabeth]

But papa! Why?

“Are you ready? The chauffeur is waiting.”

Cora closed her eyes on hearing her mother’s voice. She felt incredibly sad having to leave her home, only because her father decided he wanted to work with a British company. And now here she was all packed to go to a foreign country. Why was he not just going himself? What was the reason they were sending her away.

She would be in a country that she did not know. She would not have any friends there. She knew how British people looked down on Americans. The people at ‘Crawley Advertisements’ would not be different.

“Cora? Did you hear me?” Martha’s voice sounded again.

“Yes mum, I am coming.” Cora closed the last suitcase and walked towards the hallway. She turned around and gave her room a last look. This was the room she grew up in. She had never suspected that she would leave this place, other than going to live on her own.

She had mentioned to her parents before, that she wanted to move out and find her own place. But her father had always said, she was better off staying at home, until she would marry. Cora huffed, look at the situation now, she thought. He was sending her away. Playing it off that it would be good for the business. ‘Levinson and Son’ was a big name in the United States. Every company that needed advertisement, came to them. Cora was convinced her father did not need the Crawley company to expand and grow in the United Kingdom. Did they even know that she was coming and not her brother Harold?

Why was he not going? She had asked her father, but his answer had been misleading and without a real answer. Her mother had not been much more help, and she even suspected her mother to be the reason she was sent off to England. She had always dreamed of her daughter marrying into British nobility.

A loud sound made Cora jump, right behind her stood her mother. She had stomped with her feet, which made the sound. “It is a private flight, so even if you arrive late, the plane will wait. Stop stalling and move.” Her mother’s words were hissed at her. Cora felt the hairs in her neck rise, her mother always managed to crawl under her skin.

“Yes, mother.” Cora followed her mother meekly. It was pointless to try and stop everything that was happening at this point. She would make the best of it she thought.

+++

In the car, she was surprised to see Harold, her mother had stayed behind with her father. She could see the tears in her mother’s eyes and she knew that her harsh behaviour came from sorrow. Although her mother was the one sending her away, Cora knew it did hurt her mother to see her daughter go so far away.

“Are you ready for this big adventure?” Harold asked.

Cora shrugged her shoulders. “I do not have a choice, do I?”

“You will have an amazing time in England. You will show those cavemen how the real and new world operates.”

“England is not a third-world country, Harold.” Every time her family talked about England, they pretended it was a poor stay-behind country. It was something she did not understand, especially not because her mother wanted her to marry an English lord, but at the same time, they always talked badly about the country. She sighed because she knew it would be the other way around once she arrived in London. The way they viewed Americans was almost comical.

“Harold?” Cora turned towards her brother. “Why are you not going instead of me?”

Harold raised his eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”

“Papa has always treated you as his partner, not me.”

“Nonsense.” Harold interrupted her.

“Is it though? What is the name of the company?”

“What do you mean?”

“As I say, what is the name of the company? It is Levinson and Son, am I right?” She saw Harold’s cheeks slightly colour. “I am not even mentioned in the name. Papa always thought I would only join for the time being until I would marry.”

“In that case Papa is right, you are 21 and it is time you will settle.”

“I am 22 and you are older and also not married!” Cora shot at Harold.

“That is different.”

“Just because you are a man it is different? That is rubbish and you know that. Papa and also you never saw me as a full partner in de company, but now you want to expand in England, I am good enough to do the dirty work?”

“Who knows, what if the love of your life walks around in London?” Harold laughed when he saw Cora’s angry face. He put his hand on Cora’s. “My darling sister, whatever Papa and Mama want to be the outcome of this adventure. Look at it as an adventure and just enjoy the chance to widen your world. And you will be able to show what we can do and make a name in England. Because of what you are going to do, we will have departments in England before we know it.”

Cora contemplated his words. Why did ‘Crawley Advertisements’ agree with this? They must know what the intentions of ‘Levinson and Son’ were. Or, she thought, they were going for the same goal. Opening offices in America.

She was caught up in this web, and she would not fight it. She had fought before, and look at where she was now. In a car towards the airport. Her brother was with her, to make sure she would step into that plane.

#cora crawley #robert crawley #downton abbey #fanfiction #downton #cobert

[alexbkrieger13]

"It's sad to see how few players have raised their voices against the World Cup," says Magda Eriksson. International with the Swedish national team and one of Chelsea's biggest stars. Eriksson tries to recall co-workers who have been openly critical of the World Cup in Qatar. "In Germany, good enough. Norway went out to play a qualifying match with a shirt that claimed to respect human rights, but they haven't qualified for the World Cup. I'm proud of Sweden because the pressure from the fans and the clubs he managed to prevent the men's team from going on a training stay in Qatar," he recalls. "In England I have seen some players who admit they are not comfortable with the World Cup, but with a small mouth. Gareth Southgate, the selector, he said he thought it was bad how people are treated in Qatar but then let it slip that the workers who have been exploited in the stadiums want the World Cup to take place," she adds. "I, as a homosexual woman, do not feel welcome in Qatar. Why should I go there? If this is the most global sport, the World Cup should be held in a place where everyone is welcome," she adds. "We already know that it is a men's World Cup and that, therefore, it is up to women to be protagonists when play our World Cup. But it is no longer a question of waiting for a woman to be the director of the tournament or run the media. It's about hoping that the tournament is held in a place where the woman isn't sent to prison for adultery or doesn't need her father's permission to do everything." Eriksson has read a lot on the subject in recent months. "I was critical of the tournament right from the start, but I wanted to get to know the differences between the countries. To see that there are countries where, of course, things are even worse. But we have expert reports that show that women in Qatar are asked for their father's permission to get married, to go study abroad, to get jobs... If a divorce occurs, the children will always go with the father, obviously. Very few women have been able to reach public positions. There is a culture of masculinity from time to time, which reduces the role of women in the World Cup to the singers who will perform at the opening," she complains. The most prominent name of a woman in the World Cup is surely that of the British architect born in Baghdad Zaha Hadid,

"I expected more from the players. I'm disappointed with the Swedish players. I didn't expect them all to step forward, but a little more criticism, yes. Maybe it's because we women footballers are more critical, since always they ask us questions about our rights and we've learned to be brave when we speak up," she says. The Australian men's national team did issue a statement calling on Qatar to improve human rights. German player Joshua Kimmich said: "I don't like playing in a country where you can be sent to prison for being gay, where women don't have the same rights. It's a shame." Kimmich, however, will go to play the tournament to defend a German team that has been one of the few that has openly positioned itself against a World Cup in Qatar.

"I don't like playing in a country where you can be sent to prison for being gay, where women don't have the same rights. It's a shame"

JOSHUA KIMMICH-Player from Germany

According to Qatari laws, women must obtain the permission of their husbands or fathers to marry, regardless of age or previous marital status, as polygamy exists. Qatari law allows men to marry up to four wives, without requiring the permission of any of them. Once a woman is married, she will be considered "disobedient" if she does not obtain her husband's permission before working or traveling abroad. She is also considered disobedient by law if she refuses to have sex without a medical certificate, for example. Also, women cannot be primary guardians of their sons or daughters at any time. They have no authority to make independent decisions regarding their children's documents, business, or travel. In fact, in the case of a marriage where the father dies of illness, custody of the children will be given to the state, rather than to the mother, as a single woman is not allowed to be in charge of the creatures Unlike other countries in the area, women in Qatar have been allowed to drive for years. They can also vote in elections in which there are no political parties and only the representatives of a chamber with little power and the presence of few women are elected.

#magdalena eriksson #chelsea fcw #swewnt #world cup #swewnt article

[ingek73]

great read by Rita Ann Wallace:

Prince Harry and Meghan’s treatment changed me from a royalist into a republican

I’m embarrassed to say I was an anglophile and royalist all my life. Then I saw what they did to Prince Harry & Meghan.

I’m now a staunch republican. I hope they abolish the monarchy both in my own country, Jamaica, and in Britain, and that Prince Charles becomes Charles the Last.

How did a Jamaican become a monarchist and anglophile? There are many reasons. My grandfather went to England before I was born, and after him my uncles, mother, & aunt. He went in the mid 1950’s and his last child in 1965.

England was where the parcels came from at Christmas with our clothes, and the airmail letters with the earliest remittances — postal money orders to provide for us. It was a place we children wanted to go to live one day, joining our parents and the hundreds of others like us who settled in the ‘mother country’.

I attended an English style boarding grammar school in western Jamaica. Our headmaster was English, and so were almost all the teaching staff. Our syllabus was geared to Cambridge GCE ‘O’ and ‘A’ levels. We did English literature: Shakespeare, Dickens, George Eliot, Thomas Hardy.

So I was very familiar with the landscape, symbols, place names and personalities of England. With my mother there, with glimpses of “Mrs Queen”, as we called her, when she visited Jamaica over the years; with dazzling Diana; with televised royal weddings, funerals & parades, England and the monarchy seemed benign and wholesome — despite the knowledge of slavery and colonialism. Somehow, we didn’t blame Mrs. Queen and her family. They remained a colorful backdrop to the stories I had grown up on.

Fast forward through years of desultory royal watching to 2018 when, like millions of other people, I watched the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

I was visiting England at the time and stayed glued to BBC to watch the Prince and his beautiful Black American bride. I wished them nothing but the best, and rejoiced in the spectacle. Two weekends later I went to Windsor and I bought Royal Wedding postcards and a tea towel. I returned home and prepared to go back to the usual — checking once in a while to see how they were doing and tuning in again only for a royal birth.

Framed postcard from the Royal Wedding 2018

By the end of 2018, only a Rip Van Winkle would have failed to notice just how badly and unfairly Meghan was being treated by the British press — including the mainstream, not just the notorious tabloids. Others have documented the racism, xenophobia, disdain, and outright slander heaped upon this poor woman’s head.

It started before Prince Harry and Meghan were even engaged. In an unprecedented move, Harry even called out the racist attacks on his then girlfriend — but to no avail. From The Times, to The Telegraph, to the Mail, the Express, the Sun, to daily broadcast television, to Piers Morgan and his ilk, to online trolls and hate entrepreneurs, the attacks were relentless. They only multiplied after the couple had their first child. The trolls coined the word Megxit, signifying their intent to push Meghan out of Britain.

In time, as the world knows, they succeeded. Harry and Meghan stepped back from their roles as senior members of the Royal Family and moved to America. This incensed the haters even more, as obviously they had hoped their campaign would have sent Meghan and Archie away, but left Harry. The whole family leaving only increased the racist hate and vitriol exponentially.

Why am I blaming the British Royal Family for all this? Because they either said nothing or actively worked against them.

Prince Charles, Harry’s father, whom I used to admire for his environmentalism, said and did nothing when his son battled the media and his daughter-in-law was almost driven to suicide.

The Queen, Harry’s grandmother, who is head of the Firm, said and did nothing. Oh, not nothing. How could I forget? When the March 2021 interview with Oprah was about to air, Buckingham Palace announced it was opening an investigation into claims that Meghan had “bullied” Kensington Palace staff. The so-called investigation closed in 2022, with no result announced.

Prince William, Harry’s elder brother didn’t say and do nothing, though. He let it be known, according to The Times, that he’d ‘put his arm around his brother all his life’ and wouldn’t anymore. When Meghan sued the Mail on Sunday for copyright breach and won, William sent his trusted henchman, Jason Knauf (famous for claiming that Meghan had bullied staff) to support the Mail on appeal.

Front page of The Times, January 12, 2020.

Who are these people, I finally asked myself? Why should they be on a pedestal? Why would anyone regard them in any positive light when they have shown themselves to be utterly uncaring and despicable?

The treatment of Meghan, the lens of the UK Black Lives Matter protests, the Windrush scandal, all combined to show exactly what the colonies endured for hundreds of years: the overweening arrogance of the English massas, so sure of their white superiority, while treating Black and Brown people with brutality and savagery.

And so, with no apologies to Mrs. Queen, with no regrets at all except for the time lost in nostalgia, I am calling on Prime Minister Andrew Holness to set swiftly in motion the process to get rid of the British monarch as Head of State of my country. And while we’re at it, get rid of the monarch as head of the Commonwealth too.

It’s full time to have no more royal tours of Jamaica, no more “King’s House”, no more “Mrs. Queen”. We don’t need these upholders of racism to be part of our governance; they don’t own us anymore.

The time has come.

#rita ann wallace #prince harry #meghan markle #duke of sussex #duchess of sussex #brf #royals #british royal family

[sjullay]

Why the Film Adaptation of Red White and Royal Blue Missed the Mark

By Sera B

*This is my word vomit response essay to the movie and I didnt go back and edit it so sorry for any typos or grammar issues

** I use the word queer a lot, it is a word I believe is reclaimed and it is one I use to refer to myself 

As an avid lover of Casey McQuiston's work, I was excited when I heard their 2019 novel Red White and Royal Blue was being made into a film. As a queer person, I have loved the author’s contributions to LGBT+ storytelling for both YA and romance readers. Their writing brings light and joy to queer stories while making me as a reader feel seen and understood. 

So I will briefly start with what the movie did well.

All of the important scenes were there… The kiss, the turkey, the lake, the museum, etc. The movie gave us a line drawing of the plot while the book gave us the statue of David. The casting of Taylor Zakhar Perez and Nicholas Galitzine as Alex and Henry was in my opinion and fantastic choice. These two clearly understood their characters, had fantastic chemistry with one another, and showed amazing emotion throughout their acting. They were so gentle with each other and you could feel the love between Henry and Alex even with the pitfalls of the plot. Secondly, the physical intimacy was fun, and sexy, and fairly accurate. You would not believe the number of times I have yelled at my tv screen because a queer couple in a show is having sex in a position that doesn't make any sense for queer sex. Additionally, there were a few fun details that brought a smile to my face. Most notably the British Prime Minister is portrayed by a black woman, and the choice to bring on gay icon Stephen Fry as the King of England (instead of the Queen of England as written in the book. 

So let's get on with what was wrong with the movie (and sadly it was quite a lot).

The compression of the plot

As I began the film I immediately noticed that the pacing felt jump and off-putting. While I understand the time constraints of a movie over a book, the choices the filmmakers made left little room for the audience to get to know these characters. The scene transitions felt like jump cuts from one important scene to the next with little care for the impact or the arch of the story.

The Romance 

Where were my details?

The biggest heartbreak for me in watching this movie was the complete eradication of details that made these men who they are. I fell in love with Henry and Alex reading about two dorks with big hearts who helped figure each other out through grief, and bravery, and political climates, and family dysfunction. They are thoughtful and funny and talk like I do and the details are what made them interesting and real. 

Star Wars

I know this may have been a licensing issue but still… To me, the Star Wars scene in the Hospital is the first time Alex as well as the readers get to see Henry. We see that he doesn’t know that he is brave and that he really does believe that anyone can be a hero. Later in the emails Star Wars becomes a cute joke between our romantic leads and shows a story that to some level reflects their own. A princess who is being told her role but finds that she is in control and she is powerful falling in love with a rouge bandit just trying to find his way in the world. This reference also shows that Henry’s taste is relatable and not just the pompous posh of the royal family. In the end, the mural of Henry and Alex as Lea and Han is a symbol of hope, rebellion, and queer liberation. 

Texts, Emails, and the first Phone Call

While the movie did well the first texts, building from teasing quips in response to tabloid articles slowly into longer friendship building conversation. But as it progressed they stopped including the body of most of the emails sent between the two. The few they included were included as seemingly phone conversations but were instead filmed as in person conversations. Setting a confusing tone to the scenes from the start. Then the turkey call was short and was not the first time they had called. The main subjects of this call and how it was the first time they really started to know each other were also brushed passed for the comedy of their being a turkey in Alex’s room. Alex slowly falling and not really realizing it is instead replaced by a series of fast surface level texts and calls that simply establish that they don't hate each other anymore.  The feeling you get as a reader of enemies falling into friendship falling into a situationship then falling in love is almost completely lost. 

History Huh?

One detail of the book that may have seemed small to many but made my heart sing was the post scripts on each email. The historically queer quotes gave context to their love story and showed readers how we really have always been here and queer. The movie omitted not only those but all historical context as to why this love story is important. The museum scene is important not just because it's a safe place for Henry but because he gets to come here and learn! Learn that there was a gay king of England who openly expressed his love. And that the art that was gifted out of that queer relationship was one of the few things freely given to the British monarchy, not just in their museums as an unjust product of colonialism and violence. 

Additionally, the museum scene was changed to have Alex offer to dance which to me felt a bit off because that made it so the romance never really came from Henry. (This is a whole other rant but it felt like they just wanted to put Henry in the role of a woman instead of honoring the differing gender dynamics in queer relationships)

Then the song that plays both here and later during the piano scene is not Your Song by the gay icon Elton John. To me, Your Song was perfect here as it gave Henry an outlet to express his true feelings and implied hope for a future where they could tell everybody (this is their song ;)). 

Henry’s Charity Work

Henry in this story also seemed to not do anything. He was the prince, he attended events and meetings, and he knows how to play polo and piano. Thats it. We got nothing about what he thinks, what he likes to do, or who he is when he is just Henry Fox and not Prince of Britain. As said above we don't know he likes Star Wars, or that his fact sheet was written for him to make him sound better to the crown. We don't know he devotes his time to working with Pez to create charities and give as much of his royal family money away as he is allowed. We don't know his love for music, that he shares with Bee. We don’t know his love for art and history and queer stories. While the movie says it is showing us Henry Fox (the boy brave enough to be gay I guess). It really only shows us one dimensional Henry who is scared of what his family and the world will think. 

Why were other characters even included?

With the obvious start to the movie showing us the lack of integral characters such as June and Rapheal Luna I thought well at least we will get the fun, joyful dynamics of Nora, Pex, and Bee with our iconic star crossed political figures. Sadly this was not the case. With the most screen time, Nora became a soundboard for whenever Alex needed to say something out loud to someone who wasn't Henry, Her role otherwise was superficial, silent, and really almost nonexistent. Even more, hidden away was the best friend to his royal heartiness Pez! Pez had one line in the entire movie and immediately became the prop to the already prop character Nora. This was especially shocking to me as it tokenized both of these black characters both of whom get rich interesting personalities and lives within McQuiston's world. Lastly, Bee. In the book, her character serves as a primary companion to Henry and as another example of how the British royal family has failed these young people. In the film, her backstory and dynamic with Henry was completely erased and she served a very similar purpose to Nora, a sounding board for the few times Henry wasn't talking to Alex. She again felt like a beautiful character that became a flat prop waiting to be picked up only when she is deemed useful enough.

Henry’s Mom and Dad

The lack of parental influence on Henry's story may feel appropriate based on how the royal family really has failed him in both the book and the movie the eradication of the story of his parents further robs Henry of his own emotional depth. While the film does acknowledge the death of Henry's dad it is only to explain why he was a prick to Alex one time. In the book, we are able to see the weight Henry carries and how he goes through grieving periods and depression because of the traumatic loss of his father. His father was the person who understood him and helped keep him and Bee out from under the intense judgment of the crown. Additionally not having Henry's father included means his mother isn't as well. Her grief is a mirror of Henry’s and (in the book) we see her getting braver as a reaction to Henry’s strength and bravery. It shows a story of a mother who got lost in herself and was still able to find her way back and fight for her children. She is the carrier of change for the royal standard.

The 2016 and 2020 Elections 

While the Red White and Royal Blue movie still technically included an election, the context for why this election was important was completely omitted. Casey McQuiston's book was written as a direct response to the 2016 election and imagined a kinder world in which instead of Trump we had the first female president of the united states. The speeches in the book direct acknowledge the hate that has been so prevalent in recent years and how all people still deserve a voice at the table. By disregarding this context the urgency and heart of the movie fell flat again. Instead of a corrupt politician working to out Alex to ruin his mother's campaign the film had a petty gay journalist who used Alex to get his five minutes of fame. Not only does this feel homophobic but the catty nature of the articles and interview portrayed makes the entire plot point of Alex and Henry being outed to the world feel flippant. The film completely lost the weight of these two boys being maliciously outed to the entire world without their consent. 

In the End

My biggest question at the end of this movie is why don't we get to see the crowd? If I had not read the book I think I would have been left wondering who the crowd was and why are they important past just being people to simply see Henry and Alex go onto the balcony? In the book, these crowds are reported to be not just all over England but all over the world. They are crowds with signs and shirts and flags and rainbows. They are the diversity of the world showing up for these young men who are like them. The lack of these images also made me further miss many of the missing details I discussed above (Amy’s queer and transness, Han and Leia mural, history huh shirts, etc).

While I really wanted to love this film as much as I love its source material I really felt that the movie completely missed the heart of Alex and Henry’s story. Without the context of their detailed interactions, their relationships with others, and their place within our world the story fell flat. I didn't know what message I was supposed to get besides just the basic being gay isn't shameful. And if the point wasn't a message and was just a love story then I really wanted to feel their love. I am not saying the book was perfect but I personally loved it and wish the movie had carried its same soul. 

I know there is lots more than I put in this post and please feel free to discuss! 

Thanks for letting me word vomit my feelings out :)

#red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #alex claremont diaz #prince henry of wales #henry x alex #alex x henry

[izzy-b-hands]

@dianetastesmetal and I have been chatting abt DCI Ferguson as a cat (were he wizard cursed, he would be turned into a cat. search ur hearts, u know it to be true)

which led into what if Izzy had to deal with an animal onboard, his responsibility, but it's Cat Ferguson specifically?

This is that! And i think it turned out p darn adorable 🥰

---

"All you need to do is look after the cat "

Izzy nods. "Why me, exactly?"

"Because Frenchie trusts you to keep the beast under control," Ed replies. "Please. He's really honestly a bit upset, but we're getting paid to get this cat to where he needs to go, and it isn't as if he can row himself anywhere."

He stares at the grumpy-looking British Longhair. The cat stares back.

"Alright."

--

"Um."

"Yes?"

Ferguson is wrapped around his neck, legs on either shoulder, purring loud enough to be audible from nearly a foot away.

"I was going to ask you to help scrape barnacles," Lucius sighs. "But...oh."

He gives Ferguson a pet on the head, and leaves them without another word of the chore.

"You sure you want to leave, when we get near England? You don't have to. I mean, we're supposed to-"

Ferguson purrs loudly in his ear, as if to tell him to not even think about it.

"Alright. We'll figure that out later, but I think Mr. Roach mentioned making some treats for you-"

He fights back giggles all the way to the galley, at the cat apparently deciding to deafen him with purrs alone to keep him in line.

--

The longer he stays, the more Ferguson starts to settle in.

With Izzy, at least.

"Hey!" Pete swipes the air near Ferguson as claws sink into his ankle. "What? All because I passed by and didn't pet you?!"

"Told you there's a toll," Lucius says, gently patting Ferguson as he darts by. "And even then, depends on the day. I think he still likes us though."

"He's literally making me bleed, babe."

"Sometimes the people we like hurt us," Lucius says. "Gently pull his claws out and let's keep going. Stede won't wait that much longer for us."

"What does he even need?"

"Does it matter?"

Pete leans down, and more taps than pets the little furry knife hanging onto him. "I really gotta go. Sorry?"

The claws unhinge from him, and Ferguson jumps back up to the barrel he'd been sleeping on, to wait for the next person to dare to pass by.

--

"He's fine," Ed says softly. "I'm sure he i-"

A dark coloured blur of fur whizzes past his and Izzy's legs.

"See? There he is," Ed continues. "Was. For a minute. What's he doing anyway?"

"Rat!"

There's a splash, and they peer over the rail to find The Swede in the water.

"He's chasing a rat!" The Swede calls up. "I'll come back up when he's caught it!"

"It's just a rat!" Izzy shouts down. "Every ship you've been on has probably had them!"

"Iz," Ed hisses. "He'll never come back up now!"

"Tell him that rat is the only one on our ship!"

Ferguson trots past them again, growling.

"Might be the only one left if he keeps this up," Ed smiles. "Look! His paws are all bloody. Awww."

"Excellent little murderer," Izzy agrees, scooping the cat up. "You help us convince The Swede he's safe, yeah? Guard him from any rats."

Purrs and bloodstained biscuits being made on his shoulder seem to suggest that Ferguson is amenable to it.

--

"You're the one that sent a cat across the sea and didn't expect him to enjoy it more than land," Izzy says, Ferguson cradled in his arms. "Not really sure what you want us to do about that."

They've been trying to drop off Ferguson with his new caretaker, a young woman named Denise, for the better part of two hours.

Ferguson isn't making it easy.

"You know, I was warned about this," Denise says to Ferguson. "That you could be the most frustrating, irritating cat known to man."

She sighs. "That said...maybe something could be arranged. Might benefit myself as well, I've got more than enough going on right now."

"Family?" Stede asks. "I remember the early days with Mary, and-"

"Murder," Denise interrupts. "And worse, but that's none of your business."

Izzy bites back a smile. Stede was trying to be polite, he gets it, but he's no better than Izzy at reading the room for that.

Three hours later, after a brief discussion about the murder being investigated (Ed is the one to get Denise talking about the poor kid, Amy, and Izzy swears he can physically see the stress melt off of Denise as she vents), they head back for the ship.

With Ferguson, and a drawn up schedule of regular visits to Denise, "to make sure the grumpy old man is still doing well, chasing rats, enjoying the salt air", in his arms.

#text post #long post #this made my day to write #floofy old man is gonna be just. constantly loved and looked after #also might keep occasionally wounding pete but u gotta keep ppl on their toes