#Rest In Peace Laurence

[coochiequeens]

All of these stories about femicide are within the last week.

On Jan. 9, Liliana Concha Perez was found dead in Durham alongside her former boyfriend, who was described by Perez's family as jealous, possessive and obsessive. On Jan. 24, an argument between María Teresa Meraz-Cruz and her boyfriend, Miguel Angel Ventura, ended in Ventura killing her in a murder-suicide. On Feb. 7, police arrested Tammy Lynn Hodges’s husband after she was found dead inside her home.

These women are just three recent examples of a tragic, yet growing, epidemic in North Carolina: femicide.

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Sherele counts female victims of violence. This is what she wants you to know

Violence against women is on the rise, and one of the key sources of up-to-date victim data is a lone journalist, not a government body.

Thirty-four Australian women have been killed by violence  so far this year.

This figure wasn't put calculated by a government body or advocacy organisation; it was collated by journalist Sherele Moody.

During her 27 years in the media, Moody has won accolades for her reporting and research, which has involved verifying and cataloguing women and children who have died in violent incidents.

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Last summer, Belgium adopted a pioneering European law on femicide, which aims to make up for lost time in collecting data on gender-based violence. However, feminist associations fear that it will not be enough to effectively curb the problem.

Théo Anberrée, Agathe Decleire – Le Soir April 30th, 2024

Their names were Laurence, Ingrid, Marie-Anne and Stéphanie. All four died this year in Belgium at the hands of their husbands. They were victims of femicide, i.e. the murder of a woman because she is a woman.

Like those women, more than 14,143 women were intentionally killed in Europe between 2012 and 2022. At least 4,334 died at the hands of their partner, and 2,472 at the hands of a family member. These are the numbers taken from Eurostat statistics, supplemented and studied by fifteen European media partners of EDJNet, including Le Soir.

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Samira Akbari, a 35-year-old woman, lost her life at the hands of her ex-husband in the city of Bardeskan, Razavi Khorasan province.

Having separated from her husband three years prior, Samira was murdered in a horrifying act of violence.

According to a report by the human rights organization Hengaw, Samira Akbari was fatally attacked by her ex-husband, Mohammad Zahedi.

Samira, who was also the custodian of their children, fell victim to this assault.

Although Zahedi was apprehended following the incident, detailed information regarding his motive remains undisclosed.

Samira Akbari's case adds to a disturbing trend of femicide in Razavi Khorasan province, marking the seventh such incident in the past four months.

The human rights organization "Hengaw" revealed in a report that over the last hundred days, at least 50 cases of femicide have been documented across various cities in Iran.

Twenty percent of these cases were driven by so-called "honor" motives.

Shargh newspaper, in a report citing official statistics last year, reported that in less than two years, at least 165 women in Iran were killed by a male member of their family, 41 of which were in and around the capital, Tehran.

Eleven months on from her shocking disappearance, the investigation into Cecilia Strzyzowski’s suspected femicide in Chaco Province has been sent to trial.

The case, which rocked politics in the northern region, was referred for oral trial proceedings by the special investigative team probing the missing 28-year-old’s death.

Juan Martín Bogado, Jorge Cáceres Olivera and Nelia Velázquez, of the EFE Special Prosecution Team of Chaco Province, on Tuesday deemed the pre-trial investigation over and a jury trial for the defendants.

Strzyzowski’s former partner, César Sena, is accused of carrying out the murder, which prosecutors say was aggravated by their relationship and in a context of gender-based violence.

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In August 2023, in Gradacac, a small town in Bosnia-Herzegovina (B-H), Nermin Sulejmanović brutally murdered his ex-wife, Nizama Hecimovic, during a live stream, with their child in the room. On the morning of August 11th, the bodybuilder started the live stream with the chilling words that viewers were about to witness a murder. Having killed his wife, Sulejmanović went on to kill two other people before committing suicide.

Over 10,000 people watched the live stream, some even encouraging the violence. The victim had reported the perpetrator to the official institutions, which decided to ignore his previous violence. Indeed, in the live video Sulejmanović cited the fact that she had reported him as a reason for the killing.

In B-H, one in two women has experienced violence since turning 15. Violence against women, particularly in the home, remains a pervasive social issue. Despite the advocacy efforts of non-governmental organisations to enhance legal protection for women against violence in public and private domains, it continues to enjoy alarmingly wide social acceptance.

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[thiziri]

Sir Tim Laurence and his mother, Barbara Laurence ❤️

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Queen Elizabeth II meets with Maggie Smith and Sir Laurence Olivier at the premier of 'Othello' at the Odeon Leicester Square on 2 May 1966.

📷: Arthur Sidey / Mirrorpix / Getty Images

Queen Elizabeth II chats with Dame Judi Dench and Dame Maggie Smith at the Royal Film Performance of 'Ladies In Lavender' at The Odeon Cinema in Leicester Square on 8 November 2004.

📷: Tim Graham Photo Library via Getty Images

Prince Charles speaks with Maggie Smith at the Pride of Britain Awards at the Grosvenor House Hotel on 31 October 2016 in London, England.

📷: Adam Gerrard - WPA Pool / Getty Images

[galerymod]

I like the ephemeral thing about theatre, every performance is like a ghost - it's there and then it's gone.

Maggie Smith

Listen, I must be 110 by now. Granny is going to kick the bucket at some point.

Maggie Smith

If you're lucky, I think you know what you want to do with your life. I think that's a greater gift that any of the gifts you might have when you do know, if you know what I mean. It must be awful to not know what to do.

Maggie Smith

If you like Shakespeare, you've come to the right place.

Othello is a 1965 film based on the National Theatre Company's staging of Shakespeare's Othello (1964-1966) staged by John Dexter. Directed by Stuart Burge, the film starred Laurence Olivier, Maggie Smith, Joyce Redman, and Frank Finlay, who all received Oscar nominations, and provided film debuts for both Derek Jacobi and Michael Gambon.

Maggie Smith in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969)

Dame Maggie Smith

1934-2024

[schlock-luster-video]

Remembering The Manchurian Candidate and Night Watch star Laurence Harvey on the anniversary of his death.

R.I.P. (1928 -1973)

[virginpornstar]

Song of the Day: “Rest In Peace” by Duncan Laurence

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 3 (Alastor x reader)

Rated AdultChapter Trigger Warnings: Time period typical language and attitudes related to LGBTQIA+, referenced marital sexual assault and the aftermath, Laurence is an ass

Now, thanks to Nyx Productions, with Audio! Part 1, part 2, part 3

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Clenching your eyes closed against the light, you focused on your breathing as you swam up from sleep, fighting against the current pulling you toward wakefulness. 

You didn’t want to be awake. It didn’t hurt when you were asleep. You were at peace when you were asleep. It wasn’t safe to be awake. The world nor your body cared however and all you could do was pretend. 

The bed shifted as Laurence silenced the alarm clock perched on his nightstand with a groan. There was a jerk of the mattress as he flopped back down, taking a few more moments of rest for himself without a care for how it would jostle you or if doing so would cause pain to flair in your body. Maybe he knew and just didn’t care. After a minute that felt like an eternity longer, the mattress again shifted as Laurence sat up and swung his feet to the ground. It was time for him to start his day. 

You remained still, even as the weight of him left the bed. You counted the seconds, pacing each breath you took as you tried to keep your eyes peacefully closed, not clenched. 

If you were still asleep, maybe he would leave you alone. If you were still asleep, maybe you could rest a little longer. 

“Get up,” Laurence ordered. 

When you didn’t respond, he shoved your hip harshly, rocking your whole lower body. Pain flared from what felt like everywhere at the harsh touch. A moan slipped out before you could swallow it. Still, you pretended to be asleep on the off chance that he would leave you be. 

Icey air shocked your body into alertness as he ripped the blankets from your body. Gooseflesh spread over your kegs and arms as you gasped, body curling in on itself to trap what heat it could. 

It was often cold in the mornings. Laurence wasn’t fond of a warm room at night. You accepted that, though he used to not mind it so much and would feed the furnace a bit before bed to keep the chill from turning bitter in the night. You missed that.

“Get up or the pillow is next.” Laurance threatened. His voice was low and heavy with sleep, matching his mood. 

“Please,” you whimpered, eyes struggling open against the morning light. 

“Useless.” Laurence’s hand wrapped around your bruised wrist and he yanked you up off the bed. “Get up. Tonight needs to be perfect., better to get up and get started than lounge around in bed all day. You won’t fuck this up for me.” 

You crumpled to the floor as soon as he let go of you, thin carpet peeking out from under the bed doing little to keep the icy cold of the floor from soaking into your skin. That was good enough for him. As you laid sobbing on the ground, he walked around you while he prepared for the day. 

“Pull yourself together,” he demanded as he tied his necktie and walked out of the bedroom. “Tonight will be perfect or you will pay for it.” 

Only when you heard the front door close did you pull your limbs under you. Trembling, you clutched the bed as you used it to find your feet under you. Your legs felt crusty, but you refused to look to find out if it was blood or something else that dried between your thighs. 

It wouldn’t change anything, anyway. 

Stumbling, you walked along the walls as you made your way to the bathroom. Turning on the tap to fill the tub, you grabbed scented salts and dumped a handful into the water. It would sting when you got into the water, but the pain would be a distraction from the pain you were already in. 

Pain. You were in so much pain. 

You needed to take something. The more you moved, the better your legs worked, but you still used the bathroom fixtures to support much of your weight. In the medicine cabinet was the little glass bottle that promised relief. 

You shook out a few dusty tablets and filled a glass with water. Avoiding looking in the mirror, you popped the pills into your mouth and grimaced at the bitter taste. Quickly, you washed them down, not stopping until the glass was empty. 

Closing your eyes, you tried and failed to will the memories of the night before out of your mind. As you sank into the burning water and washed away the blood, tears, and seed, you tried to purge your mind of the memories of his hands and lips against your skin. Nothing you did erased the feeling of him inside you, the way his breath sounded in your ear or the way the bed creaked with each move he made. 

Your mind was foggy as you walked down the sidewalk. The pain pills were doing their job, though you had found the tincture Laurence used when his back was paining him particularly bad to be far more powerful. You’d only taken a few drops, but it helped the Aspirin along. 

Swaying on your feet, you waited for the produce vendor to finish with the customer in front of you. It felt like he was taking forever, but it could have just been the way your brain floated on fog. The fog was better than the pain. 

The man next to you bumped you as he turned to step away. Pain shot through the fog in your mind as you reached out for the counter to steady yourself. Fingers dug into the simple wooden surface as you counted out deep breaths in your head. 

One. Two. Three. 

The man’s offered apologizes floated away from your ears, lost in the medication induced fog, but you smiled and nodded just the same. The fog was why you tried to avoid taking the tincture, that and because of the way Laurance would react if he noticed any missing. Part of you knew you should ask what it was, but there was no way doing so wouldn’t raise suspicions.

“Ma’am?” Someone was talking to you. The produce vender, you realized. 

“Huh?” You blinked the fog away as best you could. “Yes, I’m sorry?” 

“I asked what I could get for ya?” 

“Just a bundle of celery, please.” The smile felt fake as you pulled it across your face, little more than pretty wallpaper on a crumbling wall. 

After the produce was the butcher. The shop was cold, but you welcomed the chill. It helped keep the fog at bay, but your fingers trembled and shivers ran up your spine, anyway. Perhaps it was just that the tincture was wearing off, you decided, as the throbbing in your hips slowly blossomed to life. It didn’t last as long as the Asprin pills did, an unfair trade off for the quality of the pain reduction. That was just as well. It was important that you could think clearly in order to make the bread and cook the night’s dinner.

It had to be perfect. Dinner had to be perfect tonight. Laurence would make you pay if it was anything less than perfect. 

All things considered, you had gotten off easy the night before. Even after your slight protests about the short notice, the strikes hadn’t been as harsh as they could have been or as you expected them to be. 

Laurence had more affectionate intentions with you for the night. That always came with his good moods. Was it wrong that you sometimes found the thought of his affections more revolting than his anger? Would your revulsion at seeing to his carnal needs sentence you to hell for failing your wifely duties? You hoped not, but the way the preachers spoke, who could be sure?

Whistling cut through the fog still clinging to your mind. Glancing behind you, you saw a man impossibly tall with warm tanned skin. Were one of his parents perhaps not white or even mixed themselves or did he simply tan dark? You couldn’t say for sure, but you would lean toward him having something in him to make his skin that tone and his hair so thick and fluffy. 

“Miss, you’re next.” 

It took a moment for you to realize he was speaking to you. His voice was smooth and chipper, a perfectly fine voice for a perfectly fine man on a perfectly fine day. His perfect transatlantic accent flowed from his lips with practiced ease. 

It wasn’t something you yourself had perfected, though you failed to put in as much effort as some. The idea of using a false accent, tone and speaking pattern always seemed silly to you. No one really talked like that, so why pretend? 

“Miss?” He said again.

“Oh,” with a shock, you realized you had gotten lost looking at him. “Forgive me. I thought I might know you from somewhere. I guess my head got lost in the clouds trying to place where.”

Stepping up to the counter, you braced yourself on it in a way you hoped looked casual. “Can I get about two pounds of chuck roast and half a pound of salt pork fat?” 

The butcher made quick work of wrapping your order, making small talk with ease while you mentally struggled to keep up. Your mind felt like it was floating away and your knees trembled. 

Was it the cold or the medication making you weak? Was it your injuries? Were you hurt worse than you thought? You couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. That simply wasn’t a part of your reality. 

You made it almost out the door before your knees gave out, sending you tumbling to the ground in an undignified heap. What caused it was anyone’s guess. Too much stress? A wrong step? Surely no one would guess what you’d been through the night before. 

Crumpling to the floor in front of the door, you tried to will the tears down as you focused on the cold, hard floor. The tiles were dirty from countless pairs of shoes and spills, though the shop appeared to be kept clean. You could see how the dirt was ground into the scratches. 

It hurt. You hurt. The medications were wearing off,you no longer had any doubt about that. You wanted the floor to swallow you up. You wanted to die. You wanted it to be over. All over. 

Long fingers wrapped around your shoulder, startling you from your self pity and shame. You flinched away from the touch, groaning in pain as you tried to get your bearings. Pain radiated through your core. Your hips ached from how Laurence had pulled them, shoving your legs up in ways that caused the joints to ache in pain the night prior. 

“Miss?” Who was it calling out to you? The butcher? No, the voice was coming from somewhere closer. “Miss, are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” your voice shook along with the rest of you, making your words less than believable.

“Are you?” When you flinched under his grip, he instead offered his hands for support. 

Looking up, you find yourself face to face with piercing brown eyes and sharp features. Instantly, you knew he was the same man you’d been catching glimpses of at a distance, his unique features catching your eye in passing moments and taking root in your memories. You hadn’t even been registering that you were noticing him until he was kneeling right next to you.

“Let me help you up,” the man gathered your bag up in his hand. 

Looking from his face with his kind smile to his waiting hand, you had to make a choice. The simple fact was, you didn’t think you could stand on your own. 

Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone that would be likely to talk. Laurence likely wouldn’t hear about this. He wasn’t a fan of idle gossip. It was a woman’s sin, he would often say. 

But really, anyone could talk, and he could hear. 

Your fingers trembled as you reached out for his arm. He was steady under your hands as you used him to brace against, dragging yourself up from the ground on shaking legs as he slowly stood alongside you, pulling you up with the steady pressure of his arm under your hands. 

Focused as you were on getting your feet under you, you didn’t see the way his eyes focused on the bruise peeking out from under your sleeves. That wasn’t the only thing he noticed as he helped you stand. You favored the same arm you had been favoring in the tailor shop, the injury not yet healed.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” He offered as he pulled the door open and walked you out of the butcher shop, allowing you to still use his arm for support. You were shaking like a leaf in the wind with every step, though the tremors were subsiding a little with each step. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure I just need to nibble on a little something. Thank you, Mister?” 

He shook his head instead of offering his name. “I can fetch you something, if you’d like?” You shook your head at his offer and pulled an empty smile across your face. “Go slow, miss, if you’re sure you can manage.” 

You wanted to thank him again. You wanted to ask his name. You wanted to ask why you hadn’t noticed him around before and yet he seemed to linger just on the outskirts of your life now. 

Instead, you walked down the sidewalk, one slow shuffled step after another as you gripped the bags in your hands. Your knees felt weak and your hands trembled with each step you took, but as long as you didn’t stop, it wasn’t so bad. When you got home, you would take more aspirin and maybe, just maybe, another drop or two of the tincture. 

The man stood, watching your back as the distance between you grew. For being what Laurence claimed to be his greatest possession, he certainly didn’t seem too mindful of the care and keeping of his wife. 

Alastor wasn’t sure why Mimzy was in his house, but she was there and already made herself at home by the time he returned. He hadn’t really been listening to her answer when he asked. She wouldn’t give a straight one, anyway. 

His home was modest, at the edge of the city, and that was how he liked it. He toweled his hair dry as Mimzy went on and on about all the reasons he should loan Laurence the money he needed. Most of her reasons were selfish, but he expected nothing less from her. 

“Say, Al?” Mimzy asked just as he had finally relaxed into the silence she let draw on. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror. The firelight from the gaslights flickered behind him, adding a little extra light to the dim room as the sun sank lower in the sky. 

“When you going to get electricity?” 

He laughed as he wrapped his bowtie around his neck and tied it. “It’s an unnecessary expense. I don’t need it. And it’d be unreliable out here, anyway.” 

“An unnecessary expense?” Mimzy laughed, “Unlike that hunk of metal outside?” 

“Don’t pretend you don’t have me drive you around in that hunk of metal.” Alastor countered, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to tame it down into something respectable. 

“So what’d he offer as collateral on the loan? I’m surprised ya need a second meeting to seal the deal.”

“His wife,” Alastor locked eyes with his friend through the mirror, watching as her jaw dropped, shock splashed across her face before it pulled up in giddy glee. 

“Oh, my.” 

“Oh, my indeed.” Alastor turned, snagging his long coat up from the armchair. “Your latest pet’s offering did not impress me. Hopefully, he comes up with something better tonight.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” 

“You better think of backup suppliers because I’m not doing that again for you this soon.” 

“What sort of wife do you think he has? She looked meek.” Mimzy refilled her glass, helping herself to the liquor Alastor kept under the floorboards. 

“Seemed so,” Alastor took her glass from her hands and downed the contents. If anyone had seen how at ease they were with each other, rumors would fly and reputations would be in ruins, mostly his. 

“You know, I thought he was a real stand up fella,” Mimzy swatted at his shoulder as he handed her the empty glass. “A fella stand up fella like you. But even if he’s not, he’s got a pretty little wife to come home to. You could have that too, you know.”

“Don’t you start this.” 

“What! Your dear Ma is passed, someone’s gotta look out for you. May as well be me. Laurence doesn’t let having a meek little thing at home cramp his style.” 

“Why do I need a lady?” Alastor asked, buttoning his coat.

“You’re a good man.” Mimzy counted her reasons off on her fingers as she talked. “You could settle down some. You’d have someone to cover for you. You’d have someone to take some heat off you.” 

“That’s the same as having someone to cover for me, isn’t it?” Alastor raised an eyebrow at her as he fixed his shoes, ensuring the laces were tied just so.

“It’s not.”

“I’m fairly certain it is.” 

“You’re a good man, Al. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t?” She stood up, slipping her feet into her heels, counting on Alastor to drop her off on his way across town. 

“Isn’t my not wanting to reason enough?” Alastor straightened his coat as he stood before snagging his hat up from atop the coat tree by the front door. 

“It would if people weren’t starting to yap.” Mimzy slipped her arms into the fluffy fur coat she adored.

“People are starting to yap?”

“Ya, if it wasn’t for the occasional girl that speaks up, the whole town would think you’re a queer. You’ve busted your ass to make it where you are. It’d be a shame if something happened to your reputation. People going to be sure you’re either queer- not that I got anything against them, but ya know how people view them- or a scoundrel. I know you ain’t either of those things, but having a lady waiting at home would take the heat off you, even if you ignore her most the time.”

“Will you get in the car?” Alastor hated the fact that Mimzy had a valid point. It was time for her to go home and leave him alone. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Slipping into the passenger seat, she waited for him to start the car and throw it into gear before starting again. “I’m just saying, you could bag a meek little thing that lets you do your thing just like Laurence did.”

“If Laurence’s wife is so spectacular, why don’t I just take her?” Alastor took a deep breath, reminding himself to school of his tone or his accent would slip out. Not that Mimzy didn’t already know what he sounded like off the air, but he felt too exposed with it. 

“Now you’re being funny,” Mimzy laughed, though it sounded forced. 

Alastor met her eyes with a charming smile, intending to relax her. It was just a joke. He would never go that low. Why, if he sank any lower than that, he’d be murdering people in the dark of night! 

Tag List: @redvexillum, @charlottemorningstarsdarling, @uhhhimbored, @diffidentphantom, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @kaylopolis, @catticora, @nyx91, @rainydaysmut, @xalygatorx, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @goyablogsstuff, @honestlyshamelesskid, @lunarmango, @lilith-jae, @loveameripanshipperlove

Next?Masterlist

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[captainknell]

RIP Oliver 😞

So my husband and I have been listening to the audiobook of His Majesty's Dragon (we haven't gotten very far yet) but I accidently started talking "formal and British" apparently. I was at my mom's and her new cat walked up to me and I said, "Well hello, Oliver. I do not believe that we have properly met." Then I was like, omg I sound like Laurence 😅

[hotvintagepoll]

The shadow realm is quiet, at rest, a bountiful dark kingdom in the hollow of the earth. No one disturbs its peaceful slumber. And yet.

Jessica Walters rules as gracious queen and tyrant undisturbed; Vivien Leigh and Anthony Perkins plot and scheme as second-in-commands; Fredric March rots away in his kingly dungeon. Little do these rulers know that a new political alliance, steadily growing in strength and number, has formed that could wrest away their power completely—the Scrungly Little Guys Coalition™, dangerous and feral and free.

Only one scrungle can lead this uprising against the powerful. Who is the intrepid champion, a loser of all losers, to lead the shadow realm into a new day?

This is stage one of the coup. There are three other polls in stage one. The top winner of each poll will go on to compete against the others for ultimate victory.

[aimeedaisies]

King pays tribute to ‘heroism and sacrifice’ to mark 80 years since Arnhem

Monarch’s words spoken by the Princess Royal to remember troops who fought in Operation Market Garden

21 September 2024 5:57pm

The Princess Royal is representing the King at the Arnhem anniversary events PA/Ben Birchall

The King has said the “heroism and sacrifice made by so many in the pursuit of peace” will never be forgotten as the 80th anniversary of a famous Second World War operation was commemorated.

The King’s words were spoken by the Princess Royal, representing the King at events this weekend marking the efforts of troops who in 1944 fought in Operation Market Garden, with the bold aim of ending the war that year.

The Princess, joined by her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, delivered her brother’s speech at a reception staged at the Airborne Museum Hartenstein in Oosterbeek, the Netherlands.

It is a former hotel that served as the headquarters of the British 1st Airborne Division during the Battle of Arnhem, part of the operation that aimed to push through the Netherlands and into Germany just a few months after the D-Day landings.

The Princess met Geoff Roberts, 99, believed to be the only British soldier to travel to Arnhem for the commemorations this year PA/Ben Birchall

The Princess said on behalf of the King: “Eighty years ago, on this very weekend, Operation Market Garden was under way in this region of the Netherlands.

“An ambitious joint airborne and ground forces operation designed to seize crucial bridges to enable the advance into Germany, its ultimate aim was to end the war within a matter of months.

“The friendships made during those difficult days of September 1944 between the Dutch and their liberators continued after the war.”

“I saw this for myself five years ago when, as Colonel in Chief of the Parachute Regiment, I attended the 75th anniversary commemorations.”

The Princess met Geoff Roberts, 99, believed to be the only British soldier to travel to Arnhem for the commemorations this year.

Mr Roberts flew by glider into Arnhem during Operation Market Garden but was captured as the Allies retreated after their efforts. Immortalised in the film A Bridge Too Far, the Allies were thwarted by strong resistance from Nazi troops, and he spent the rest of the war in a German prisoner of war camp.

The Princess Royal watches a fly-by at the Airborne Museum Hartenstein in Oosterbeek, Netherlands PA/Ben Birchall

The Princess continued the King’s speech, saying: “Tragically, despite the endless courage of all those who served in an operation whose renown echoes through the generations, the Netherlands had one more terrible winter to suffer before liberation finally arrived.

“Today, on this 80th anniversary, it is with a deep sense of gratitude and humility that we remember all those in the British, Allied and Commonwealth forces who served and died fighting for our freedom.

“Let us also remember those magnificently courageous members of the Dutch resistance and gallant civilians who endured so much during the Second World War.

“We will never forget the heroism and sacrifice made by so many in the pursuit of peace and liberation. My wife joins me in sending the warmest possible good wishes to all those taking part in this weekend of commemoration.”

On Sunday, the Princess, in her role as president of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, will attend the annual service marking the operation’s 80th anniversary at Oosterbeek Airborne Cemetery.

She will join around a thousand guests and will read a lesson and lay a wreath at the foot of the Cross of Sacrifice.

Earlier, paratroopers from eight Nato member countries, including the UK, the USA, Portugal and Spain, parachuted from 12 aircraft into Ginkel Heath, a nature reserve near the Dutch town of Ede.

Some 700 paratroopers took part in the jump, including the Red Devils, the British Army’s freefall parachute display team, as part of the commemoration of the Battle of Arnhem.

Turned into defensive battle

Among those to parachute into the occupied Netherlands were 1,900 allied airborne soldiers from Britain’s 4th Parachute Brigade.

The plan involved seizing key bridges with a combination of airborne and land forces.

But the airborne forces’ landing zones were around nine miles from the bridge at Arnhem, losing them the element of surprise and giving the German troops time to build blockades.

While the operation succeeded in capturing the Dutch cities of Eindhoven and Nijmegen, it failed in its key objective: securing the bridge over the Rhine at Arnhem.

A defensive battle was fought, which saw nine days of prolonged street fighting, until the order to withdraw was given on Sept 25.

More than 8,000 British soldiers were killed, missing or captured in the offensive.

[crispys-records]

laurence will always be left behind.

garroth will follow aphmau and their friends to the end of the earth, having adventure after adventure, all in the hopes of supporting aphmau and the man she fell in love with, and come back and laurence is waiting for him, as if he never left that house. garroth will ask laurence where he's been, and laurence shrugs it off, saying he had to take care of the house. status quo restored, there'll be peace until garroth leaves again, and laurence doesn't leave with him.

garroth can't remember the last time he had been home. is laurence there? will he be waiting? or will he be gone, having finally gotten sick of waiting on an empty street for a best friend who hasn't thought of him during the most stressful moments, with not even a letter or a call.

but laurence is there when he opens the door. hes still there, resting on the couch, smiling when garroth comes home. and garroth doesn't believe it. he looks around, searches desperately for signs of life in the house hes been missing from for months. laurence hasn't even said a word about garroth's new ears and tail, only asking what hes looking for. and garroth doesnt reply, only running to his room and shutting the door. because laurence had gone missing months ago. because garroth had come back from love~love paradise, only to find laurence gone, without a note. all of his things left behind. laurence had vanished, and he couldn't even bring himself to call the police, not when he hadn't even thought of laurence in the months hed been gone.

there was no status quo. there was no peace. not when his house was empty. not when people had asked when laurence was going to come and hang out, and garroth couldn't bring himself to tell people that laurence was gone. he would make up some lie, like he was too tired from work lately, that he didn't want to go anywhere. people stop asking. and as the months go by, and a new status quo settles in, no one says anything about laurence. and life happens, and days go by. until garroth is the only one who remembers him.

until garroth is the one left behind by laurence.

[thiziri]

Princess Anne and her mother-in-law, Barbara Laurence ❤️

[fareehaandspaniards]

I so wish I could know how Maria would have reacted to everything that happened with Yharnam. Micolash sacrificed many innocent people and created a new nightmarish reality, Logarius destroyed her home, Annalise locked up in a huge ash heap, Laurence turned into a beast, Adeline... Adeline goes slip slop drip drop. Gehrman went insane with grief and created a copy of Maria, the Doll, creepy as she is. And now Gehrman is in his personal little hell.

I'm sure she'd be broken, destroyed. God, she couldn't stand a fraction of the horrors - she's the only one of all characters to commit suicide, because it all was too much for her.

She would have cried, tried to escape the truth, and only Kos herself could have made her face the truth. I think she'd feel sorry for Gehrman. They sure were important for each other. I think she'd want them all to rest in peace. So much suffering I am rotating Maria in my mind

I would love to see her losing her mind, falling into the deepest grief - to overcome this all, to stand up and meet her end with honor, meeting the end of the Nightmare as Hunter become an infant Great One. Oooooh

I think it's so symbolical - Hunter in the end fights Gehrman, one is connected with the Doll, another is connected with Maria. One is past, another one is future. Oh oh oh

[patcaps]

After five incredible years haunting the halls of Button House, we have decided that the time is right to let our beloved sitcom ‘Ghosts’ rest in peace. We have just wrapped filming on our fifth and final series and we can't wait to share it with you all later this year.

We could never have imagined the reception the show has enjoyed, or the fun we have had making it and we would like to thank our amazing cast and crew as well as everyone at BBC Comedy, BBC1 and Monumental Television for their tireless support.

But most of all we’d like to thank everyone who watches.

Mat, Simon, Martha, Jim, Laurence and Ben x

[inlovewithregencyera]

Elmsworth House, July 4th, 1818

After the proposal was made and the friends and family wished their congratulations to the new couple, the party migrated to the drawing room for some entertainment before the evening was concluded. Helena asked Aurelia to enchant their guests with her refined singing and musical talents. She was reluctant at first, mainly because she hadn't sung in front of Frederick in almost two years, but she did it anyway. As Aurelia's fingers gracefully danced on the harpsichord keys, the notes that escaped her lips left Frederick enchanted by the beauty of her angelic voice. It was like a melody had echoed through the chambers of his heart. All he could do was think of was their last summer spent together, as he tried to hold back tears from the bittersweet memories they shared.

♫♫♫!!!!

♪That now lie sleeping, softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping♪

♪Sleep is a reconciling, a rest that peace begets♪

♪Doth not the sun rise smiling, when fair at evening he sets♪

♪Rest you then, rest, sad eyes♪

♪Melt not in weeping, while she lies sleeping♪

♪softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping♪

*Loud applause*

Ashley: Lord Worthington?

Frederick: What, Mr. Ramsbury?

Ashley: I asked if you were alright-

Frederick: *sniffling* Why wouldn't I be?

Ashley: Well m'lord, it's just that your eyes are wateri-

Frederick: *wipes eyes* I have no idea what you were referring to Mr. Ramsbury.

Ashley: ....

Laurence: *whispering to himself* Dearest, sweetest angel, how come you've graced this earth with your talents along with my heart. For I know I can never have you-

As you belong to him.

Peregrine: Oh she's done excellent.

Helena: I know! Our dear niece has a voice that would make the angels in heaven weep.

Peregrine: And Lord Worthington...

Helena: *trying not to laugh* Oh hush old man!

Emma: Oh mama! How I wish I could sing like Lady Aurelia.

Elizabeth: You have other talents to make up for that my dear, do not fret. I'm sure your harp skills will have you married off by the end of May!

John: Don't say that.

Elizabeth: Oh John!

William: You should delight us next with your singing, my sweet Martha.

Martha: But I want to sit here and gaze at you and imagine our future together.

William: We'll have a nice little townhouse in the heart of Willowfax. But during the Summer, we shall move to a country house in Henford where our children can go and visit their grandparents every day.

Martha: Oh, how grand!

Patience: Grand indeed! *finishes wine glass in one gulp*

Ashley: My dear, that is your fifth glass! Shouldn't you retire the wine-

Patience: Only after I play my song!

Peregrine: Patience I'm not sure that is a good idea considering the state you're in. You can barely stand up straight.

Helena: Oh dear, please do listen to Mr. Ramsbury and your husband!

Patience: Oh but ma'am, my song will ease my nerves.

Ashley: Oh dear!

*Frederick starts rising from his seat*

Ashley: Oh dear cousin, please, take my seat. I believe I need to be up waiting for my poor wife in case she needs my assistance!

Frederick: *whispering* You sounded lovely.

Aurelia: *whispering* T-thank you.

Frederick: May I speak with you later tonight?

Aurelia: Yes, yes certainly.

Frederick: Meet me in the woods, behind the house once everyone is asleep. Bring Sarah, just in case someone sees us.

Aurelia: Alright.

This made Aurelia more anxious than usual as recurring memories came to her head once more. She and Frederick used to sneak out late during the Summer of 1816 when he was staying with their family at their summer home in Brindleton. They used to enjoy each other's company and stroll along the beach whilst holding hands. They of course could never be intimate or physical in public, as it was considered scandalous, so when they had time to themselves they would hold, and hug each other as long as they could. She had been craving his touch and embrace for the past two years, and truth be told, she still loved him. She never stopped loving him, and now that he was in her presence again she felt her love for him grow stronger than it had been once he was away.

♪♪♪

♪Did you not hear my lady, go down the garden singing♪

♪Blackbird and thrush were silent to hear the alleys ringing, oh saw YOU, not my lady, out in the garden there♪

♪Shaming the rose and lily, for she is twice as fair♪

William: Well she's slightly drunk, but this song is quite heartfelt! Her voice is exquisite, but nothing compared to your cousins.

Martha: Yes..indeed.

[schlock-luster-video]

Remembering The Manchurian Candidate and Night Watch star Laurence Harvey on the anniversary of his birth.

R.I.P. (1928 - 1973)