#and I also got sick after Scotland :((( still generally not well

[ifindus]

Euros thoughts I've been having: Was Norway partying with Scotland in Germany ahead of his games in the Euros? Did Norway console Scotland after his team was eliminated in that defeat by Hungary? I can imagine Scotland needed a hug and some back rubs at least after that... Do you think he's supporting Denmark as a fellow Scandinavian, or is there too much rivalry?

Thank you for these Euros thoughts!! 🙏 I've watched every game I've had the opportunity to and we are so close to the end of it now 👀 betting on Spain to take the win this year

Of course Norway's joined joined in on Scotland and Germany's pre-gameings - which is an adorable new friendship btw. Norway enjoys football as much as any other European country and when his own team is not playing, he can at least have fun watching Scotland's team.

"I'm sure you'll advance from the group play next time~"

tbf I think Scotland is still quite proud of his team though 🙏 I've seen nothing but positivity from Scots interviewed after they lost that final match - they are just there to bring good vibes and have a great time and that's what they accomplished ✨

The Danes have been terrible towards us in the euros this year and we're not even in it!! 😠 I've seen some videos of Danes chanting about how Norway did not qualify and how they are so much better 😠 I think Norway would be sort of reluctant to cheer for Denmark to begin with, so this behaviour by Danish fans is a great excuse to root against Denmark in every match. And they didn't even pass the group play sooo 👀

[harrison-abbott]

I used to visit Poland a lot when I was younger. It’s the country that I’ve spent the most time in in terms of foreign land (as somebody from Scotland), and I would go around the big cities. But I also visited the countryside a lot, too.

And what I felt about the Polish country especially was a sense of great beauty. Polska is a very beautiful land, with the fields and the forest. There is a dense, rich quality to this nation’s wilderness. And whilst I was watching Shoah (1985) I was reminded of all of that beauty – for a lot of it is shot in the same terrain that I mention.

This is what makes it a highly unusual documentary. Because there is no archival footage whatsoever used to portray the time period in question. What we see instead are scenes of 1980s, beautiful Poland.

Accompanying this visual array, are the interviews and words with real people who were involved with the events that happened forty years earlier. We witness a whole range of people speak about their experiences. And their stories clash and mix with the scenery.

I actually posted on this blog yesterday about H.G. Wells’ book, A Short History of the World. And I was struck by just how much violence was involved in the history between peoples, throughout the ages. It was as if violent behaviour was the key motivator behind what propelled most of the chapters. This group of people invaded another group of people in this other part of the continent, and won over this area of land, for x amount of time, until a new army invaded, and they ruled for y number of years.

And whilst I was reading this book, the violence was somehow diluted because it was so repetitive.

When I watched this documentary ^, the horrors involved were far more subjectively portrayed. Not that I’m saying that the horror in the Wells book was to be ignored. Only that, in this film, the accounts were actual people who were direct witnesses to what happened.

I’m sure we know lots of black comic jokes that are made about this particular topic. People make jokes about this genocide, in crass terms. Be it in cartoons, or in the playground, or just for a sick ‘sense of humour’. It is as if what happened during WWII has ended up as a soup of jargon, in a way, whereby words and phrases such as; holocaust, Auschwitz, concentration camp, gas chambers, Hitler, Nazi: all of these items seem to gloss over the sheer scale of the atrocity.

I remember being in college (FE college, not university) and overhearing a lad talking about his visit he made to Auschwitz with his friends. And he was telling them about “shower jokes” he had made whilst there. And the other folk who were listening were just laughing at them. And I remember reading a novel by a Hungarian writer who repeatedly made black digs about the Jews being sent off to be gassed.

What on earth is funny about what happened?

Often, I marvel at how short a time ago it was. It really wasn’t that long ago. Eighty years ago, as I write this on the 17th March 2024, it was still happening. My own grandfather was a British serviceman in the Royal Engineers, and he was rescued from Dunkirk. And then he went back to Europe and ended up in Berlin after the war ended, where he was a prison guard. Albert Speer was one of the detainees in the prison he guarded.

And I am 31 years old now, and my grandfather was only two generations above me. This is how recent World War Two is in historical terms.

As for a film, it is very good. It is nine and half hours long, so it takes a while. And many of the stories included are so grim that I had to pause for a while and do other things, just because the content got so oppressive. But in the way that is shot, and the manner in which the information is delivered, is somehow magnetic. Or, rather, you feel that you are watching something that is important to watch. Which, I believe, is what films are supposed to do.

Not everything was pretty, in a visual sense, throughout this film.

This was not the point I was trying to make earlier. What I meant was that, there are many areas of Poland where the old camps were demolished and now they are surrounded by green, fertile land. Particularly with Treblinka: it just seems like a lost place in the sticks, and you wouldn’t think anything awful had gone down there if it weren’t for the cemeteries.

But with Auschwitz, it has remained intact. That famous shot of the train track, with the entrance on the horizon. The ominous tower above the entrance … it just looks like something out of Hell.

I think it is profoundly important that they kept Auschwitz preserved. In the same way that it was essential for Claude Lanzmann to have made this epic film.

There are many scenes whereby he interviews, via his translator, the Polish people who remember the Jewish folks before they were taken off to the camps. And the lady translator speaks back to him in French what they said. Lanzmann also speaks in English and German to various other people who were involved. And there is Hebrew at points as well, and Greek. And with this collage of languages, one gets a sense of the magnitude of the whole ordeal. It makes you incredulous how mammoth this massacre was. And stuns you to think that it ever possibly happened.

I won’t go into details about a particular part in the doc: but there was a note of disbelief amongst the victims as well. Or, rather, disbelief before they became victims. They couldn’t believe that they would be murdered in such a way, on a mass scale. And it happened across a whole continent.

This is not an easy documentary to watch. But, it makes you think, and it’s worth experiencing. I certainly rate it highly amongst the many documentaries I’ve seen. And it is a huge achievement from Lanzmann and the rest of his team.

[carewyncromwell]

"I would heal what's broken -- Show this family something new! Who I am inside, so what can I do? I'm sick of waiting on a miracle, so here I go...!"

~"Waiting on a Miracle (cover) by Scott Shattuck

x~x~x~x

featuring Asa Butterfield as Tristan Cromwell and Dierdre Hall as Lane Cromwell (also Errol Flynn, Judy Garland, Colin Firth, Ioan Gruffudd and Jeremy Irons as Angus, Isabelle, Henry, Francis, and Charles Cromwell) // see the full Cromwell family tree here! // listen to Tristan's playlist!

x~x~x~x

The Cromwell Clan had lived in Scotland for many generations. It's unknown exactly when the very first magical Cromwells arrived in the Isles, though the first notable Cromwell on record was Pendragon Cromwell, back in the 14th century. Among his descendants, Pendragon was renowned for his talent in both Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as for being the first member to possess the distinctive "Cromwell blue eyes" that his family became associated with, despite many of them not inheriting them. To most everyone else, he was best known for wholeheartedly defending Nicholas Malfoy before the Wizard Council, after the man was accused of killing his Muggle tenants and blaming it on the Black Death. And this sort of dramatic split between public perception and familial perception of the Cromwell legacy is typical for many of its prominent members throughout history.

One of the most dramatic splits, of course, was the legacy of Charles Cromwell -- once leader of the magical terrorist organization R, which had terrorized the students of Hogwarts and certain family members in particular in the pursuit of the treasure inside the infamous Cursed Vaults. Charles Cromwell ended up dying in Azkaban only a few short years after entering it: a fate that his son and replacement, Blaise Cromwell, was quick to lament, but just about no one outside of the Clan did. In fact, for his estranged daughter Lane and her children Jacob and Carewyn Cromwell, it was a relief -- Jacob even expressed cold satisfaction upon learning that (in his words) "that old minger is three-feet under, getting eaten up by microbes and fungi, as is proper." After Charles's death, Blaise as Head of the Clan tried multiple times to heal the divide between the Clan and Lane's side of the family, to no avail, in large part because of his refusal to acknowledge the truth of Charles's cruelty.

One can therefore imagine that when Blaise's only son and heir, Tristan, reached out to his cousin Carewyn at work one day in the spring of 2008, it was a bit of a surprise. The request he made was even more of one.

"I need a historian -- a well-regarded one," said Tristan. "And from what I understand, Aunt Lane is one of those. I require her contact information, immediately."

He held out a hand expectantly. Cocking her eyebrows, Carewyn sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"Tristan," she said seriously, "Mum has made it very clear that she wants no contact with the Clan. If I give you her address, then I know full well that it could end up in Blaise's hands -- "

"I don't intend to give anything to Father!" said Tristan impatiently. "I wish to go there to speak with Aunt Lane, at once -- as soon as work is over, time permitting..."

"What?! No!" Carewyn's almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed. "You most certainly will not."

Tristan looked incredibly offended. "Excuse me? She's my aunt! She's my family too -- I'm more than within my rights to see her -- "

"My mother is not the sort to take visitors at home, in large part because of the suffering she underwent at the hands of our family, which Blaise still fails to acknowledge," Carewyn shot back. "If you or any member of the Clan wishes to make contact with my mother, then you will speak through me."

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Tristan barked. "I'm to be Head of the Clan, and I require an audience with your mother -- you cannot deny me -- "

"Watch me," Carewyn hissed dangerously.

She got to her feet, her hands both spread defensively across her desk. Her height was not at all intimidating in comparison to Tristan's -- he was such a bony, lanky sort that he towered over her, as well as the remainder of the Cromwell Clan, even at just 23 years old. Even so, Tristan seemed to recoil ever-so-slightly, knowing at once that he'd overstepped. His lips coming together, he bit the inside of his cheek and recollected himself. He sighed very loudly. Then at long last, he finally spoke again, much more quietly.

"...Father's not doing well."

Carewyn's brows furrowed.

"He tries to act like everything's fine -- can't let anyone see him as vulnerable, you know...but the Healers told him he has several polyps growing near his colon. They were caught early and the Healers plan to remove them this weekend..." Tristan swallowed. "...but I know there's a 'but' there that Father didn't tell me. I've studied the colon in about a dozen creatures, humans included -- colorectal polyps like that aren't just one and done. More than half of them can grow back in the span of three years...especially if you're the sort of person, like my father, to drink brandy at supper on the regular."

Carewyn considered this.

"...Then you think Blaise...?"

"Runs the risk of contracting colon cancer for the foreseeable future," Tristan said quietly. His blue eyes were downcast as he turned away.

Carewyn's expression lost some of its edge. However much she would never forgive Blaise for all the suffering he'd thrown at her and Jacob over the years and his consistent defense of Charles, she knew Tristan loved his father like no one else in the world.

"Tristan, I'm sorry," she murmured.

Tristan folded his arms behind his back, straightening his posture again as he looked at her out the side of his eye.

"I want Father to step down from his place as Head of our family early," he explained. "He needs to take care of his health, and he can't do that if he's still representing and looking after us in all matters. And I don't know how I'll succeed -- hell, if I could ever succeed in this -- if I have to take over completely on my own, after Father's dead, without him there to help me when things get tough."

Part of Carewyn wanted to reassure Tristan that he would be able to rise to the challenge if he had to. At the same time, though, she also had to admit, it was good that he was thinking ahead and planning for the future, not just waiting for things to happen. It was a rather mature and responsible thought process for someone who often came across as an insensitive, entitled brat.

"But if I'm going to convince Father I'm ready to take over," said Tristan, "I must have a vision for our family going forward. To do that, I need Aunt Lane's insight, as a historian and as one of our Clan's former members."

He reached into his high-necked Gothic Victorian dress robes and took out a healthy-sized red velvet coin purse.

"You may tell your mother that I will pay her upfront for her services, and that I shall treat her like any paying client. All I need is a consultation on our family history, with as much detail as possible. I've done all the research I can internally -- but I need a complete picture from the outside as well, if I'm going to conjure any sort of unifying vision for all of us going forward."

Carewyn considered Tristan carefully. She could see a memory of his long-fingered white hand trailing over an old tapestry of a family tree pass over the back of his eyes.

"You really want an outside perspective?" she asked skeptically. "I doubt Blaise or Pearl would much approve of that."

Especially if it involves anything outside of Charles's pureblood supremacist ideology.

Tristan scoffed. "Well, I kind of need to know what the stupid people say, if I have any chance of mending our family's reputation in the Wizarding World."

His own almond-shaped blue eyes then grew a bit sharper and more serious again.

"...Besides...if I'm going to do what Father hasn't been able to do and mend the rift between my side of the family and yours, I need to know what you lot think as well as what we think."

Carewyn slowly settled herself back into her chair, her lips pursed.

"What we think comes from lived experience and historical proof, not family dogma repeated ad nauseum."

Tristan scowled. After a moment, Carewyn gave a heavy sigh.

"I shall forward your request tonight," she said quietly.

Tristan's pale face lit up with both boyish glee and faint arrogance -- it was this that made Carewyn add sharply.

"I will not convince her in any way to agree, Tristan -- if Mum doesn't want to accept your money, you will have to go find another historian, and that's that."

Tristan didn't looked dampened by this at all. Instead he only seemed to smirk more happily than ever as he shrugged.

"Fine by me."

He turned with a movement that made his dress ropes sweep like a cape. He only paused briefly in the door frame so he could look back over his shoulder.

"Winnie -- "

"That's not my name," Carewyn reminded him curtly.

" -- thanks," Tristan finished without shame, smirking more broadly than ever. Then he cheekily jaunted out the door.

x~x~x~x

Lane took her time considering Tristan's offer when Carewyn contacted her via Floo about it. She took so long, in fact, that she ended up asking Carewyn to come over and sit with her over a cup of tea that evening so she could talk the matter out with her daughter. After an in-depth 2-hour discussion, Lane finally decided to accept Tristan's request.

And so the following day, Carewyn followed up with Tristan at his new corner cubicle at the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau on Level 4 of the Ministry. She found him hunched over his desk, his black bottle-neck table lamp casting dark shadows over his scrunched, pale face as he laboriously drew muscles and bones in white and red pencil over what looked like a beautifully detailed anatomical sketch of a dragon and muttered irritably under his breath.

"That complete ninny Farid -- giving me all this extra work to do hypothesizing the damn thing's wing structure, just because he's too bloody gutless to do some proper dissections..."

"Perhaps your friend thought that ripping a Welsh Green open just to get an inside look at its wing would rightly be considered 'overkill.'"

Tristan looked up to see his red-haired cousin standing beside his cubicle, her arms crossed. His pale, pointed face twisted into a smug smirk as he slouched back in his chair.

"Sikander is not my friend," he said arrogantly. "And I never said kill the specimen -- I'm sure there are plenty of dragon carcasses lying around any stomping ground people aren't determined to mess with. Female dragons kill their mates all the time, after laying their eggs...plenty of dragons get their wings ripped off too, in fights..."

"Charming," said Carewyn drolly.

Rather than pursue this line of discussion further, she leaned her arm on his cubicle to speak to him a little more quietly.

"Mum has agreed to meet with you."

Tristan's smugness faded, to be replaced with complete shock and (despite himself) relief.

"Really?"

"Yes," said Carewyn. "Meet me in the Atrium at 5 o'clock, and I'll Side-Along-Apparate you there."

Tristan blinked. "You're coming along?"

"Only to drop you off inside Mum's house," Carewyn said as she turned to go. "She doesn't want you knowing her address."

"Because she thinks I'll tell Father?" Carewyn could practically hear the resentful, sulky posture in Tristan's voice. "Honestly -- I already told you, I'm not telling him anything! Or do you think I'm lying? You know you can sense my thoughts, right?"

"I do," said Carewyn, "and yes, I know you're not lying. But Mum has become a recluse for a reason: she doesn't want anyone knowing her address, except for Judy, Jacob, and me. You should be glad Mum's all right with you visiting her home in the first place."

She smiled a bit wryly over her shoulder before walking off.

"Piece of advice: shut up and let her talk, and you might actually learn something. It's something your father has never learned how to do."

x~x~x~x

After work, Tristan met Carewyn in the Atrium, whereupon she Side-Along-Apparated him to Lane Cromwell's new, secluded cottage in Tintagel, Cornwall.

Tintagel was a quaint locale near the far western shore of southern Britain, best known for its castle being identified by Geoffrey of Monmouth as the residence of the legendary King Arthur. Although the village itself was prone to the predictable amounts of tourism, Lane herself had chosen a small cottage in the outskirts of town, hidden from view both by the bounding hills and some strategically placed enchantments, for optimal privacy.

It was certainly the smallest home Tristan had ever visited. He felt like the whole place probably could've fit inside the grand dining hall at Cromwell Manor with no difficulty. He was also startled by the strange smells that greeted his nose when he and Carewyn arrived.

"Mum, we're here," called Carewyn.

Tristan heard the quietest shred of a voice answer from the kitchen, but couldn't make out what it said. Carewyn, however, seemed to have no trouble making it out, for she turned to Tristan with her hands on her hips.

"All right, then, I'm off -- Orion's expecting me at home," she said in a business-like voice. "Behave yourself, Tristan."

Tristan scowled. "Don't treat me like a child -- I'm to be Head of all the Cromwells, soon enough..."

"Not of me, nor of Mum," Carewyn reminded him. Nonetheless she gave him a muted pat to his back. "Remember what I said before -- listen to her."

As she turned to go, she called over her shoulder.

"I'm going now, Mum! Love you!"

Once again, there was the very slightest quiet call back that Tristan could only partially make out as including "love you too," before Carewyn disappeared with a crack.

Tristan looked around the small cottage, his blue eyes narrowed.

What an absolute hovel, he couldn't help but think.

It was clean, he supposed, and it wasn't cluttered, but everything just looked so...worn. Not even old and historical, like the kind of grand tables and armchairs back at the Cromwell Manor -- just tired, used, and lived-in. The furniture was very slightly outdated, the couches had minor stains and were frayed at the corners, and there were claw marks and fur on just about everything. Every window was wide open and framed with white plastic blinds and wooden shutters instead of curtains, and rather than portraits, there were countless personal photographs on the walls that -- rather bizarrely -- didn't move.

It was weird how a space could be so quiet while still so full of sounds: muted steps on tiles, birds singing outside the window, wind rustling a wind chime, a muffled radio broadcast...nothing so unpolished and quaint ever echoed through the grand, endless halls of the Cromwell Manor.

"Mrrow."

Tristan looked down to see a skinny ginger tabby cat walking around near his legs, blinking up at him with bright orange eyes. The Cromwell heir stared blankly down at him.

"What do you want?"

The cat rubbed up against his legs, leaving fur all over Tristan's black trousers. Tristan couldn't help but smirk.

"Spreading pheromones, then?" he asked. "Reckon I'm in your space, so you've got to make sure you're asserting your dominance."

The ginger cat purred.

Tristan hesitated, glancing around furtively. Then, bending down, he actually reached out and tentatively ran his hand over the cat's head.

As much as Tristan had always enjoyed studying animal anatomy, he wasn't used to having any animals around, especially furry ones. The closest thing to a pet that Tristan had growing up was a fake dog skeleton that he'd dressed in a collar and an ugly Christmas sweater and called "Funny Bone."

"His name is Tigger."

Tristan only just barely made out the soft voice of Lane Cromwell that time, and it turned out to be because she'd silently ended up right behind him. He jumped back up to his feet, straightening up at once, as his still-blond, way-too-Muggle-dressed 63-year-old aunt put down a tea tray on the side table by the window.

Tristan cleared his throat, putting on his most detached affect.

"...Don't you mean 'Tiger?'"

"No -- he's named after a stuffed tiger from a Muggle children's book," Lane said amusedly.

Tristan's nose wrinkled at the word "Muggle." Although he'd been forced to work with people from less magical backgrounds through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he'd still, true to all members of the Cromwell Clan, retained a distinct wariness of Muggles.

Tigger almost immediately wound around Lane's legs, and she stroked his back several times in return before she settled down in one of the armchairs (the one closest to the window) and indicated the other.

"Now then," she said, her voice as quiet as ever. "My Winnie told me that you had some questions about our family."

"Winnie" was Lane's nickname exclusively for Carewyn, same as "Blue Jay" or "Jay" was for Jacob. Lane's siblings Blaise, Pearl, and Claire, however, had co-opted her nickname for Carewyn without permission -- something that even now irked Carewyn to no end.

Tristan inclined his head respectfully before taking a seat. He eyed the chair confusedly when it compressed under him -- he was used to much stiffer chairs at home.

"...Yes. I aim to chart a direction for the Clan, as future Head. Unfortunately there are difficulties in our family that Father has had trouble addressing -- therefore I can't follow his example. And I can't go back a generation, or else I would be following Grandfather's example."

Lane's expression darkened visibly.

"Anyone foolish enough to follow Charles Cromwell's example in anything would deserve the unhappiness they'd receive for it," she said quietly.

Tristan frowned uncomfortably. "Yeah, I reckoned your side of the family would think so. And truthfully, however well Father speaks of Grandfather, I don't have any interest in ending up in Azkaban for the rest of my life. So I need to go back further, if I'm to find any example of leadership for me to take inspiration from."

He fetched something shiny and gold out of the inside of his robes and held it out for Lane to take.

"I wanted to ask about Grandfather's parents, to start with. These are them, aren't they?"

Lane looked at the pair of linked, enchanted photographs -- one of an older gentleman with a thin mustache trying and failing to make eye contact and smile at the other portrait, that of a much younger and more glamorous woman who kept looking out of frame.

"Yes," said Lane, as she considered the portraits. "That's Angus Cromwell, on the left -- and his wife, Isabelle Selwyn-Cromwell, on the right."

"And Angus was head of the family before Grandfather?" presumed Tristan as he looked down at Angus's portrait. "What was his leadership like? Did Grandfather take after him? He -- "

It was only when Tristan noticed Lane was holding up a hand that he realized she'd been trying to talk.

"No," she reiterated for the third time, even if it was the first time Tristan had heard her. "Your great-grandfather was never Head of the Cromwell Clan."

Tristan's brows furrowed. "What? But how can that be, all of the eldest Cromwell men have been -- !"

He halted mid-word. Carewyn's words from before returned to his mind.

"Shut up and let her talk, and you might actually learn something."

Tristan quickly closed his mouth. Then, inclining his head respectfully, he held out a hand to Lane as if giving her silent permission to explain. Lane's expression seemed to relax ever-so-slightly, and she set about pouring out a cup of tea by hand, rather than with her wand.

"Your grandfather Charles," she said stiffly, "was not the eldest Cromwell son, in his generation. He was the youngest. Yet despite all odds, he convinced his grandfather -- Angus's father, Sinclair Cromwell -- to choose him as his successor...bypassing not only Sinclair's own son, but his older two grandsons as well."

Tristan's brows knit together tightly over his eyes. "I didn't know Grandfather had any brothers..."

Lane smiled a bit cynically. "That's unsurprising. Both of them died before I was born, so your father certainly never met them. He and I never even met Angus -- he passed away the year Claire was born. And Isabelle...well, she was an immature sort. I suppose she saw us more like china dolls my father was collecting than grandchildren she could share stories with."

She poured out a second cup of tea for Tristan.

"It's funny -- Isabelle was just as 'style over substance' as your grandmother Marilyn...and yet the two always detested each other. Perhaps that's a statement unto itself, though. Milk or sugar?"

"Oh, ah...both!" said Tristan. Tea was always prepared without either sugar or milk back at the Cromwell Manor, so the thought of having both was actually a rare treat that made Tristan grin mischievously despite himself.

Lane mixed both milk and sugar into Tristan's tea before handing the cup to him.

"Sounds like Great-Grandfather wasn't anything that impressive, then," said Tristan scornfully, "if he got passed over in favor of his own son."

Lane frowned slightly. "Mm, well, Angus had gotten a bit complacent. He'd ended up with a beautiful young wife and three exceptional sons without much effort...so I daresay he did what many men from wealthy households do: they got too comfortable and started to take things for granted. The eldest Cromwell son had always inherited the role of Head of the Clan before, so Angus expected he would as well."

"Hn..." Tristan said with a frown. Considering he himself had assumed the same thing before, he supposed it made sense that Angus had too. Even so, the boy still scoffed. "Whatever. Great-Grandfather still sounds like an idiot."

"He wasn't an idiot -- just privileged," Lane said mildly. "And admittedly there were a few unpleasant rumors surrounding his young wife and her many male admirers that Angus might've been a little more focused on squashing than on actively catering to his father."

Tristan's blue eyes flashed angrily. "That's a dirty, rotten lie! Father told me that people were just jealous of Grandfather and his talents, and that's why they tried to call him a bastard."

"Oh, I wouldn't doubt if people were leery of your grandfather's talent, especially for Legilimency and Occlumency," said Lane lightly. "But the rumors wouldn't have taken off the way they did, had your grandfather not looked so dramatically different from both his parents and his brothers. He remains the only one of them to have inherited the 'Cromwell blue eyes' that all of us have...a genetic oddity, for every single descendant of one man to inherit such a rare recessive trait."

Tristan crossed his arms. He didn't like this line of discussion at all. Yes, obviously the Cromwell blue eyes would have to be a recessive trait, biologically speaking, but no matter how odd it was that every single member of the Cromwell family starting with Charles all seemed to have the same eyes, it was sickening to consider his grandfather could've been a bastard, given those eyes via enchantment in an attempt to obscure that truth. It made Tristan feel illegitimate himself, in a way -- as if he hadn't been born and raised to take on the responsibility that he knew had to fall to him. That he was determined to take on, for the sake of his father and family...

Lane paused before she spoke again.

"...Would you like to see your grandfather's brothers? I have pictures of them."

Tristan blinked, but nodded. Once Lane had eased herself out of her chair, she crossed the room, Tigger at her heels. She took several framed photographs off of the library shelf and brought them over for Tristan to see.

"This here," she said, handing him the second-largest, "is your great-uncle Henry. He was the eldest son. He would've likely been your great-grandfather Angus's choice to succeed him, had Angus become head of the Clan. He was a Gryffindor alumnus, like your great-grandmother Isabelle -- athletic, broad-shouldered, and stoic...enamored with his family's history, honor, and the ideal of noblesse oblige."

"Sounds like he had a real stick up his arse," Tristan muttered sardonically against the rim of his cup.

Surprisingly, though, this actually seemed to amuse Lane.

"Most accounts I've read of Henry remind me of your aunt Pearl, growing up," she said with a tiny wry smile.

Tristan couldn't help it -- he snorted with laughter into his tea.

"Oh, Merlin," he said smugly, wiping his face on his sleeve, "if he's like Aunt Pearl, then he must've been insufferable!"

Lane smiled a bit more fully. "He was considered to be rather difficult to befriend."

She served out another saucer with just milk and put it down on the carpet at her feet for Tigger to lap at. Tristan considered Henry's detached, uncomfortably stiff posture. He did indeed look nothing like Charles -- his face was square like Angus's and he had very tiny eyes.

"Guess I can see why Great-Grandfather didn't pick him," Tristan said coolly. "Who'd want someone that uptight calling the shots?"

Lane's face grew more serious.

"Oh, that wasn't the reason Sinclair didn't pick Henry," she said with a sigh. "No, he wasn't picked because he was disowned."

Tristan was taken aback.

"Henry fell in love with a Muggle woman and secretly married her after she became pregnant. He wanted to provide for her, but he knew that if his family learned the truth, it would both put her in danger and give him no means to financially provide for her and their son." Lane's lips came together as she sipped some of her own tea. "Not that he ended up keeping it secret very long...your grandfather made sure of that."

Tristan frowned uncomfortably.

"...Well, it wasn't right that he did it, you know," he said defensively, "Uncle Henry, I mean. He never should've disgraced himself, saddling himself with a filthy Mug -- "

"He chose to financially support the woman and son that he loved," Lane said in such a quiet, cold voice that it was akin to ice. "However 'uptight' he might've been, that is worth applauding."

Tristan scowled. "I suppose you'd have to think so, given that you also married below yourself."

Lane raised her eyebrows very coolly before withdrawing to the kitchen, Tigger following promptly behind her.

Knowing he'd offended his aunt but way too proud to out-right apologize for it, Tristan tried to change the subject.

"...So Grandfather told the rest of the Clan about Uncle Henry marrying a Muggle, and that's why he wasn't picked as heir?"

"That," said Lane, "and the fact that he was dead, soon after."

Tristan's brows furrowed. When Lane returned to the living room, Tigger once again at her heels, she was holding a plate of pikelets and jam, which she also put down on the side table.

"Henry was found in the local river a week after he was disowned by the Clan. His reputation had been destroyed with the whole of Wizarding society at that time, to the point that no one at the Ministry or otherwise would hire him. Without any means to support his family, Henry fell into such despair that he drowned himself. Or at least, that's what the common consensus was. The investigation was haphazard. It wasn't as bad as the one into Francis's accident, but still, it was far from detailed."

Tristan frowned. "Francis?"

Lane indicated the smallest picture.

"Francis Cromwell. He was your grandfather's second-eldest brother."

Tristan squinted. It was considerably blurrier than the others, since the subject kept moving, but his pale, smirking, dark-eyed face was framed by a mane of black hair.

"His hair's as almost as messed up as Jacob's," Tristan said cheekily.

Lane blinked in surprise and considered the picture. Then she actually laughed: it was a very hushed, stifled sound.

"Well, no, Jay's always most resembled his father -- but I suppose, yes, there is the slightest resemblance..."

Lane smiled down at the picture of Francis as she helped herself to a pikelet, spreading some jam onto it with a knife.

"Uncle Francis was my favorite to research," she admitted. Tigger jumped up beside her on the armchair, curling up against her leg. "He was a Hufflepuff alumnus, same as Angus, but he was the most interesting of the brothers. Certainly not academic by any means, but he was still widely considered to be resourceful, creative, talented -- a true jack of all trades. He was Vice President of the Gobstones Club and a capable cook. He captained the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for a term after their original captain fell ill of Dragon Pox, and he ended up winning his house the Quidditch Cup that year. He studied French, German...even Gobbledegook, so as to better haggle favorable loans with Gringotts' goblins. Not to mention he was a conductor for the Frog Choir his entire school career. He even briefly worked as a magical creature assistant for Newt Scamander while he worked at the Ministry of Magic."

Tristan's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes," said Lane eagerly. "Oh, and his artwork. Francis was absolutely exceptional with a pencil."

She paused, her eyes drifting back to the side table.

"...In fact...this was one of his."

Lane finished off the pikelet before reaching out for the last, largest framed picture, which had been face-down on the table. When Tristan took it from her, he was surprised to find not a photograph like the others, but a framed and very detailed pencil sketch of a handsome young man with chiseled features, a dark mustache and beard, and incredibly piercing, light-colored, almond-shaped eyes.

"Do you recognize him?" asked Lane. "That's your grandfather."

Tristan was bowled over. "That's him?!"

He looked down at the sketch again. Even though it wasn't enchanted, it was amazing just how sharp the young Charles's eyes were -- almost as if they were looking right through Tristan, at that very moment. It made the Cromwell heir twitch a bit in his seat despite himself.

"He looks so...young," he said awkwardly. "All the pictures I've seen of Grandfather are of him when he was older."

Lane seemed to empathize with Tristan's discomfort. As she took the portrait back, she regarded the pencil sketch with notable detachment.

"I know. Your uncle Francis sketched that in the summer of 1940, when your grandfather Charles was freshly 22."

As old as I am, Tristan noted. That knowledge felt really weird.

"It was an engagement present," Lane continued as she put the portrait back down on the side table, "to commemorate his engagement to the newly graduated Slytherin Head Girl, Marilyn Bulstrode. Francis told Charles he also intended to draw one of Marilyn to complete the set, once he could convince her to model for him."

Lane's eyes grew a little smaller as her hand absently scratched at the side of Tigger's neck.

"Not that he got the chance. While working at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Francis recruited Charles -- the best Legilimens he knew -- to help him deal with a wild Wampus cat he'd been asked to recapture from a Dark wizard who'd been collecting dangerous magical cats off the black market. With his younger brother's help, he succeeded -- but the Wampus cat, after seemingly being safely contained, went wild and not only got loose of its cage, but also let several other wild cats loose in the melee...including a Nundu."

Tristan's eyes widened in shock.

"A Nundu's breath is poisonous enough to take out a whole town!" he said. "How did Grandfather -- ?"

"Oh, your grandfather reacted fast enough to Apparate to safety," Lane said very curtly. "Francis, for some reason, did not. There's still a lot of question about why. But your great-uncle was smarter than people gave him credit for -- he materialized a Bubble-Head Charm around his head, which saved his life. What he didn't predict, though, was just how noxious the Nundu's breath is at close proximity, even when it can't be breathed in through the nose and mouth. And most unfortunately, Francis had sustained several deep cuts on his arms and legs while trying to contain the Wampus. This resulted in the toxins in the Nundu's breath making it into Francis's blood stream...poisoning his limbs from the inside-out."

The anatomist in Tristan was macabrely fascinated, but he'd just taken one of the pikelets from the plate and spread some jam on it so he could try it. To his surprise, it was really tasty, and he got so distracted with spreading some more jam on it and gobbling it up that he neglected to articulate any of the demented questions going through his head.

"Your great-uncle was taken to St. Mungo's, but it was too late," said Lane. "He ended up paralyzed from the neck down -- unable to move and in excruciating pain."

Tristan winced. "Ooh. So that's why Great-Grandfather passed over him?"

Lane nodded grimly. "Your great-uncle languished in St. Mungo's for the next five years, after that. Your great-grandparents did visit occasionally, from what I understand...but after his accident, and especially after Charles took over, Francis was largely brushed aside by the Clan. He was seen as an embarrassment, rather than an asset. Regardless of his talents -- regardless of how well-liked he'd been at school by his classmates and how much potential he'd had...in St. Mungo's, he was seen solely as an invalid, and therefore not worth anyone's time."

Lane looked down at the blurry photograph of the smirking young man again grimly.

"In fact, that photograph is the only one I've ever been able to find of Francis. A witch who'd looked after him in St. Mungo's before her retirement sent it to me, when I reached out to her by owl. She said she'd retrieved it from a box of belongings he'd kept on his bedside table, after he passed away."

Tristan finished his second pikelet, licking the jam from his fingers. Then, remembering his manners, he quickly cleaned off his hands with his handkerchief before he reached out to take Francis's picture again.

He looked determined, actually. His black hair was messy and his shirt was ripped, and yet his collar was fully buttoned, his posture was straight, and his pale, pointed face was fearless. Almost as if he was ready to take on any challenge thrown his way.

Lane tilted her head slightly, watching her nephew look over his great-uncle's picture.

"You know..." she said thoughtfully with a slight smile, "...I don't think Francis looks very much like my Blue Jay at all. I really think he looks more like you."

Tristan looked up at her in surprise. He then looked back down at the photograph of Francis, which smirked up at him, and he saw his own smirking reflection in the glass of the frame.

"...Hm. Reckon he looked a lot uglier after his accident."

Lane cringed visibly at the off-color humor, but Tristan pressed on, undeterred.

"You said Uncle Francis worked at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, right? D'you reckon there might be some additional information about him in their files?"

"Possibly," granted Lane. "Or, at least, there may be files he worked on -- the Ministry wasn't as good at filing work under individual people back then, since such efforts were often collaborative. And since Francis was never Head of the Department, a lot of those such files might be filed under the men he worked under."

Tristan smirked. "Well, then, I shall require as much information as you can give me about the chain of command at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the 1930's, while Great-Uncle Francis worked there!"

Remembering himself, he then cleared his throat and added,

"...For pay, of course. Name your price."

Lane smiled wryly, her hand running over the purring Tigger at her side. "My standard rate is a Galleon an hour. To unearth a bit more about my favorite uncle, however...I may be willing to halve that -- provided I get first dibs on any photographs or sketches of Francis's that might be recovered?"

Tristan smirked broadly from ear to ear. "It's a deal!"

[distopea]

He felt slightly more settled down, even if the shock of his almost-attack was still lingering. Thanks to Nezumi and Mika though, he had been able to keep his composure, avoiding a terrible incident that he would have regretted deeply. He thought that fresh air could be a good solution, even more after the outcomes of the night and the events ahead. He was barely able to recall everything they had done since they had flown away; but surely, his body was whispering to him to take a break. He didn’t have the strength to run anymore, and while his brother was profoundly exhausted and sick, he couldn’t take the risk of hitting the road. He didn’t believe in fate, but perhaps there was a wink from the universe in the middle of this. 

“Put a scarf on or roll up your neckline, brother!” Mika chuckled before he crashed into the pillows, as Mads immediately pressed a hand right where he felt his skin slightly sore. He only had time to take a glance in the small mirror, as he wondered what Nezumi had exactly meant, along with his brother. He barely gripped the first item presented in front of his eyes before he eventually stepped out of the trailer and finally discovered the circus in the daylight. 

Surely, the place was a busy one. The atmosphere seemed relaxed despite the morning events, and he was somehow truly relieved to discover that no one was too bothered by his presence either. The circus was larger than he had expected, and the numerous workers around the various tents and trailers almost reminded him of a soldiers' camp. The discipline was quite different though, as he saw a few men lazily smoking, and others probably still very drunk from prior celebrations from the way they were staggering in the middle of the muddy alleys. Just like he thought, they seemed to follow a peaceful life, here in their own little world. 

“I used to take care of flocks and wooden work when I was in Scotland.” He answered Nezumi, as he wanted to make himself useful. If they followed the circus until Mika got better, there was no way he couldn’t have busy hands. For his own sanity and his own good, he would work hard for the medicines and food offered so generously. “I can’t thank you enough for sharing your commodities. Times are difficult, and I know how precious everything is, so I’ll earn it with sweat and hard work. You have my words.” 

He was still processing all the information given by Nezumi, from the place to gather and eat, to the fact he could get new clothes and new shoes just by asking. He remembered the way his father would beat them to pulp if they ever wanted to get something new, and the army was no better. There was a veil on Mads’ ocean eyes for a second, as he continued following Nezumi.

“In the highlands, you definitely need to chop wood before the first snow, otherwise your house will be cold and you’ll die from that. From a very young age, I carried logs and I cut wood for the villagers. I used to do that before… Well.” He didn’t really know how to finish his sentence but Nezumi probably understood. “Anything physical or implying knots is manageable. I can also help your blacksmith with the horseshoes, or take care of the animals.” Mika was better with the horses, but he was not that bad with them, and even prodigious with dogs. 

For a moment, he stopped to eventually analyze his whole environment. His eyes fell once more on Nezumi’s outfit, as he was noticing again the feminine patterns and the way he could be easily pictured as a woman. “I have a question… But I feel it might be rude. I don’t get all the codes here but…” He scratched the back of his neck, the sensation of Nezumi’s lips still printed there. “Do you consider yourself a woman? Or are you only wearing this as a disguise?” 

With Mika’s generous and much-needed help, the tension in the caravan slowly defused into an aftermath of a scene that felt much heavier than the scene itself. Mads’ guilt and shame hung in the air like dust, and when Nezumi opened his mouth and breathed in, he could almost taste its bitter flavour on his tongue. Such were the flakes of war, peeling off their horrors and attaching them to the lungs of anyone who got close enough to inhale their rancid fumes.

Smoke and blood, that was how Nezumi imagined the war, like a beast that choked out nature and free will out of good and well-meaning men and made them into agitated and forever closed-off animals. War locked men in cages of their own making, never taking the blame for how it invaded and twisted their minds.

Nezumi couldn’t possibly find it within himself to blame Mads for the reaction. He could acknowledge it as something that could happen if they weren’t careful and take precautions—as much as Mads would let them—but he couldn’t hold him responsible for it while knowing everything else. No man, regardless of their strength, could be put through the humiliation of war and come out the same. And no man should be pushed into exile for demons he didn’t grow.

“Don’t be,” Nezumi shrugged and straightened alongside Mads. He chuckled when Mika joked, but his expression returned to seriousness as he locked eyes with Mads. “From a practical point of view, it’s better to know sooner rather than later. It’s a great leap of faith, but I can assure you that nobody will judge you for who you are and what you’ve been through. Not my people, at least. We know how it feels to be misjudged and misunderstood by everyone.”

Nezumi smirked, dropping the grave expression like one does a coat at the end of a long day. He fixed the hem of his underskirt and raised it higher on his waist, securing it with a scarf he grabbed from the coat rack. It wouldn’t usually be proper for a lady to walk in public wearing just her underskirt and undershirt, but Nezumi wasn’t bothered. He threw a coat on his shoulders and nudged his head to the door. With his hair down and a pretty smile on his lips, he was indistinguishable from a woman.

“Sure, I’m happy to give you a tour,” Nezumi said, then his eyes fell to Mads’ shirt. “Do fix your neckline, though, or they’ll think I ravaged you already.” He winked and walked out the door, laughing softly.

Outside, people were keeping busy packing the tent and preparing for departure. They didn’t work in a hurry, and while some worked, others were taking a break before they would switch or find something else to do. Overall, the atmosphere was calm, and not one person seemed troubled by the presence of officers not so long ago. Nezumi was glad to see that nobody got hurt; they knew from experience that it was better to cooperate when the police tried to blame them for something they didn’t do and let them find the lack of evidence on their own.

Technically, nobody in the caravan knew of Mads and Mika’s presence, so they did as they were asked and gave access to their trailers to prove they weren’t hiding anything. Nobody was dumb enough to keep the stolen or precious goods freely on display. The society didn’t like to see the travelling tribes having much of anything to their name, and Nezumi had made sure to educate everyone that there was no reason to flaunt what they had. They would enjoy luxury among themselves without rubbing it in people’s faces.

Nezumi led Mads down a meandering path between caravans and half-packet tents, talking as they went: “There will always be work for a man who is built like a bear and strong like a horse, and it won’t be pressing flowers or assisting women at birth so don’t you worry, you’ll be useful all around and more exhausted at the end of the day than your sick brother, I’ll make sure of that.” He flashed a smile over his shoulder, hanging onto his skirt as he stepped over a mud puddle.

“Generally, if you need something, food is over there, and I’ll get you some blankets and new clothes. As for your brother, I’ll get him the medicine he needs. If you find him lacking care, come to me first, and I’ll see what we can do. You don’t want to be bargaining with us, or you’ll end up losing your shoes and underpants for a spoon,” Nezumi advised with an easy smile. “Is there something you’re good at? Or have you always been a soldier?”

[causeiwanttoandican]

Robert Lacey excerpt

I fully expect them to say William was the one commenting about the baby’s skin color after this. Battle stations! Book excerpt

The Times

Prince William ‘split his household from Prince Harry after Meghan bullying claims’

June 07 2021, 7.00am BST

‘So, are you saying,” asked Oprah Winfrey, talking to Meghan and Harry in their famous interview of March 2021, “that there were hints of jealousy?”

She was inquiring about the Sussexes’s wildly successful tour of Australia and the South Pacific of late October 2018, and the couple shifted uncomfortably in their plush wicker chairs.

“Look,” replied Harry, “I just wish that we would all learn from the past.”

By bringing up “the past”, the prince was venturing into an area that was almost taboo. He was making a sensational comparison between his mother and his wife. Harry was suggesting that Meghan had demonstrated in Australia the same massive star quality as Diana and was now having to face the family envy that went along with that.

“It really changed,” he said, “after the Australia tour, after our South Pacific tour . . . it was . . . the first time that the family got to see how incredible she is at the job. And that brought back memories.”

Memories of what? Again Harry shied away from putting words to the almost unmentionable. But Oprah had prepared and polished this moment, like so many others in the interview, and she had a reference ready to prompt her prince’s revelation. The latest, fourth season of TV’s The Crown had depicted Charles and Diana’s 1983 tour of Australia, showing how Diana had been “bedazzling” in her ability “to connect with people”. Episode six had depicted how the crowds would groan when they realised that Charles, not Diana, was walking down their side of the street — hence the beginnings of the “jealousy” on the family’s part.

“So is that what you’re talking about?” asked Oprah. “It brought back memories of that?”

“Yeah,” Harry finally replied in a fashion that was both dismal and unmistakably aggressive.

What on earth had happened, viewers had to wonder, to the old and once-familiar happy side of Prince Harry?

When trying to define the moment that marked the decisive rift with his brother William — the break-up and actual separation of the joint household they had established together in 2009 — Harry would fix upon his triumphant return with Meghan from their Australian tour at the end of October 2018. But if asked the same question, William would have fixed on a more specific event: the explosive argument he had had with his brother earlier that month.

Both brothers agreed how bitterly they had clashed back in the early days over William’s attempt to slow Harry’s courtship of Meghan — “Don’t feel like you need to rush this . . . ” But both of them had subsequently moved on. Harry’s transparent contentment with Meghan had relaxed the tensions, give or take the odd row over bridesmaids’ dresses. The “no speaks” had eased just a little by the time “best man” William escorted his brother down the aisle in May 2018.

Then five months later came the conclusive and determining rupture — the division that has lasted to the present day — though here the brothers’ retelling of history diverged. As Harry explained it to Oprah, Meghan’s Australian tour success sowed the jealousies that caused feelings to “change”. According to this scenario, William and Kate resented the Diana-like popularity that was generated by Harry’s wife. William had a different recollection.

We now know that Princes William and Harry were no longer on speaking terms before the Sussexes set off for Australia. Feelings had already “changed”, as Harry put it, and drastically so. The brothers had parted on extremely poor terms, with the trouble centring on Meghan’s stringent treatment and alleged bullying of her staff.

Most Kensington Palace courtiers were noted for the comparatively long tenures of their comfortable and prestigious jobs. But it came to look as if employees could not wait to escape service with Harry and Meghan. Those who left formed themselves into an informal fraternity that they titled the “Sussex Survivors’ Club”. They had finally hit back, and their organising agent had been PR man Jason Knauf.

The joint communications secretary for Kensington Palace — who was still, at that date, working on behalf of both of the brothers and their wives — had become concerned by the numerous stories of mistreatment being brought to him by colleagues whom he knew well and trusted.

Texas-born and New Zealand-educated, Knauf, 34, was a popular character in Kensington Palace, widely noted for his friendliness and loyalty towards his colleagues. He had been considered a real “catch” when the brothers snared him from the Royal Bank of Scotland in 2015, and one of his concerns was that professional management practices should be more effectively enforced inside the traditional British palace. Knauf’s American sensibilities caused him to see the Meghan situation as raising principles of human resources management in the palace system that needed to be formally addressed.

Knauf’s first priority was to set down the facts, as he saw them, for the record: “I’m very concerned,” he emailed to William’s private secretary Simon Case, in a document he drafted in October 2018, “that the duchess was able to bully two PAs out of the household in the past year.”

Knauf described Meghan’s treatment of one aide as “totally unacceptable . . . the duchess seems intent”, he wrote, “on always having someone in her sights”. Specifying another staff member, Knauf alleged Meghan had been bullying her as well, “seeking to undermine her confidence”. His office had received “report after report”, he wrote, from people who had witnessed “unacceptable behaviour” by Meghan towards this member of staff.

“Meghan governed by fear,” claimed one courtier. “So many people said it. Nothing was ever good enough for her. [She] humiliated staff in meetings, [would] shout at them, [would] cut them off email chains — and then demand to know why they hadn’t done anything.”

As early as 2017, around the time of the couple’s engagement, according to a subsequent report in The Times, a senior aide had spoken to the couple about the difficulties caused by their treatment of staff. “It’s not my job to coddle people,” Meghan was said to have replied.

“Americans can be much more direct,” wrote the authors Omid Scobie and Carolyn Durand in defence of the duchess, “and that often doesn’t sit well in the much more refined institution of the monarchy.”

A Brit might have raised an eyebrow at Meghan’s alleged behaviour, then looked the other way. The Yank decided to act. Knauf was actually one of Meghan’s most senior advisers — her chief adviser, in fact, when it came to public relations. Earlier that year she had gone to Knauf for help when drafting the disputed letter of severance that she sent to her father. She valued his PR expertise.

Before that, Knauf had helped Harry to word the fierce anti-media statements that he had framed to try to protect Meghan from press harassment, both as his girlfriend and then as his fiancée. The PR man had taken considerable stick from some of his non-royal contacts who criticised him as being overprotective in fighting the newcomer’s corner. Like so many people in all the palaces, Knauf had started off on Meghan’s side.

But as the months went by the American’s feelings became more ambiguous, as numerous colleagues — women whom he greatly respected — continued to bring him stories of what they said they had suffered at Meghan’s hands.

“I can’t stop shaking,” one aide had told a colleague in anticipation of an encounter with Meghan. Another reported that the prospect of confrontation with the duchess had made her “feel sick”. “Emotional cruelty and manipulation”, were the words of a third, “which I guess could also be called bullying.”

The b-word featured prominently in the accounts of several, along with an even more sinister set of initials: PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder was a deeply serious condition to allege — flashbacks, nightmares and feelings of deep anxiety — but that was how one complainant said that they had felt.

Several people maintained they had been “humiliated” by the duchess, and that criticism extended to Harry as well.

“I overheard a conversation between Harry and one of his top aides,” recalled one Kensington Palace courtier. “Harry was screaming and screaming down the phone. Team Sussex was a really toxic environment. People shouting and screaming in each other’s faces.”

Shouting and screaming? PTSD? Making people feel sick? Prince William went ballistic when he heard the “dossier of distress” that Knauf had gathered. We do not know whether the communications secretary brought his allegations directly to his boss or submitted them via Simon Case. What we do know is that the prince was astonished and horrified. He was instantly furious at what he heard.

“I remember Christian Jones [William’s press secretary and later private secretary] explaining to me how the Cams [the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge] are paternalistic with their staff,” recalls one royal correspondent. “They copy the Queen in that respect with all her Christmas parties and Christmas presents to her people. They’re proud to treat their staff like family. They recognise that they don’t get paid loads of money, so they are just really nice to them. So this was a very deep clash of philosophies, with Meghan being used to a Hollywood service culture — getting exactly what she wanted whenever she wanted in that famous way that Harry said.”

William personally knew and liked all the individuals whom Knauf had named in his dossier. The prince regarded them as assets to his household — colleagues to be cherished and for whom he was responsible. Human beings. Like Knauf, the prince was appalled that his respected staff may have been put in this position.

For William, Knauf’s allegations also clarified something that the prince had long believed — that Meghan was fundamentally hostile towards the royal system, which she failed to understand as an outsider. William wondered if she had not wanted to leave from the very start — even dreaming, perhaps, that she could whisk Harry back with her to North America.

But Meghan’s lawyers and PR representatives said this was quite the wrong interpretation of their client’s thinking and behaviour in a statement that they issued to The Times early in March 2021. They denied all allegations of bullying as inaccurate and the product of what they described as a “smear campaign”. The duchess wished to fit in and be accepted, they insisted. She had left her life in North America to commit herself to her new role.

I have never met Jason Knauf. What you have just read is based upon the published accusations that Knauf set down on paper — refuted as “defamatory”, it must be stressed again, and “based on misleading and harmful information” in the view of the Duchess of Sussex’s lawyers. It also relies upon William’s personal account of these events to one of his friends who then spoke to this author.

The moment the prince heard the bullying allegations, he related to this friend, he got straight on the phone to talk to Harry — and when Harry flared up in furious defence of his wife, the elder brother persisted. Harry shut off his phone angrily, so William went to speak to him personally. The prince was horrified by what he had just been told about Meghan’s alleged behaviour, and he wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

The showdown between the two siblings was fierce and bitter. William’s pre-engagement questioning of Meghan’s suitability had been quite reasonable, in William’s opinion. His fraternal doubts had been provisional, based upon how the new recruit appeared to be. The elder brother did not really know Meghan in those early days.

But now William had seen enough of his sister-in-law to feel sure that, sadly, he did know her and that many of his reservations linked unhappily with what Knauf’s colleagues had alleged. William believed Meghan was following a plan — “agenda” was the word he used to his friend — and the accusations he had just heard were alarming. Kate, he said, had been wary of her from the start.

Meghan was undermining some precious principles of the monarchy, if she really was treating her staff in this way, and William was upset that she seemed to be stealing his beloved brother away from him. Later courtiers would coin a hashtag — #freeHarry. It was only half a joke.

“Meghan portrayed herself as the victim,” recalled one Kensington Palace staffer, “but she was the bully. People felt run over by her. They didn’t know how to handle this woman. They thought she was a complete narcissist and sociopath — basically unhinged. Which was why the pair of them were drawn to each other in the first place — both damaged goods.”

William felt deeply wounded. “Hurt” and “betrayed” were the two feelings that he described to his friend. The elder brother had always felt so protective. He had seen it as his job to look out for Harry but this was the moment the protection had to stop. At the end of the day the British crown and all it stood for with its ancient traditions, styles and values — the mission of the monarchy — had to matter more to William than his brother did.

Harry, for his part, was equally furious that William should give credence to the accusations against Meghan, and he was fiercely combative in his wife’s defence. Some sources maintain that in the heat of the argument Harry actually accused someone in the family of concepts that were “racist”. But it must be stressed that neither brother has ever confirmed that the hateful r-word was used face to face.

Only William and Harry can know what they said to each other and they have respectfully maintained their silence on that. But Harry made clear to the world in his interview with Oprah that he considered his family’s response to Meghan to have been essentially racist — using the heavily freighted code words “unconscious bias” to provide an intellectual framework for his analysis.

Where could the two brothers go after such painful and damning notions had been thrown into their debate?

We have reached the crux of the drama. What painfully unforgettable and surely unforgivable things have been said? These are not passing differences. They are two core sets of values in conflict — love versus duty — going to the very heart and deriving from the deepest beliefs and loyalties of each man. Two opposing identities butting heads. In the months following the tragic and not-obviously bridgeable rift of October 2018 between William and Harry, the younger brother solidified his belief that his family were suffering from “unconscious bias”.

William, for his part, felt just as strongly about Meghan and the need for her subversive “agenda” to be removed from the operations of the British monarchy, which she did not appear to understand or respect. He certainly wanted Meghan removed, for a start, from the hitherto harmonious joint household that he and his brother had operated together for the best part of a decade. William simply did not want her or Harry around any more.

When accounts of the rift started seeping out through the winter months that followed, it was generally assumed that the volatile Harry must have set the pace in the splitting up of the joint Kensington Palace household. He was the brother who visibly departed, stalking off to set up a new home in Windsor, with offices for himself and Meghan in Buckingham Palace.

But the reverse was the case. It was William who made the decisive move. Following his furious confrontation with his younger brother in the autumn of 2018, the prince instructed Simon Case to start the process of dividing their two households immediately. William wished to be separated from Meghan on a day-to-day basis — and that meant being separated from his brother as well.

“William,” says a friend, “threw Harry out.”

©Robert Lacey 2021 Extracted from Battle of Brothers: William, Harry and the Inside Story of a Family in Tumult by Robert Lacey, to be published by William Collins on June 24 at £9.99

[entity9silvergen]

I recently asked reddit for some LGBT history from countries other than the US. Here’s what I got:

Germany

The Weimar Republic was surprisingly accepting of "alternative lifestyles."

During the Weimar Republic, Germany had a pretty active LGBTQ scene, with some major films and songs being produced, despite it still being illegal at the time. However, there was also a push to decriminalize homosexual behavior which sadly wasn't passed as the Nazis came to power.

This was based of two factors: after WW1 the authoritarian culture of Prussia sorta received a long overdue pushback. People were kinda sick of it, especially since these losers led them into a seemingly pointless war to begin with. Second: A LOT of men died in WW1 - and the army did not exactly prefer LGBT people. So with a lot of regular folks dead, the percentages of the total populace was sorta shifted. This also pushed the women's rights movements at the time for a similar reason.

Magnus Hirschfeld was helping trans people transition, crossdressers get crossdressing 'licenses', and generally advocating for and helping the LGBT community in the early 1900s in Germany. Nazis ended up raiding and burning down his research institute.

Hirschfeld was a gay polyamorous man. He was one of the first advocates for trans and gay rights but his work was destroyed by the Nazis.

The institute he headed even did the first modern gender affirming surgeries. The institute was destroyed and many people who were there (including the first known person to undergo complete MtF surgery) were killed by the nazis and the place was little more than bombed out ruins at the end of the war.

More information on the institute

Pre Nazi interwar Germany (Weimar Republic)  was pretty open when it came to not only sexuality, but also gender identity. The Nazis put a stop to that & tried to destroy any & all research into either, but, for a brief moment, it was there.

Russia

Pretty sure all Russian LGBT history was erased before we even had a written language, but Russia almost got gay marriage legalized in the first soviet constitution (didn’t happen bc Stalin)

The early soviet period (pre-Stalin) is sometimes called “the first sexual revolution” as opposed to America’s “sexual Revolution” of the 60’s. Broad women’s suffrage, female employment and education, parental leave, advancement of GSM rights & decriminalization of abortion. This unfortunately did not stand the test of time & reactionary sentiment.

Additional Source

UK/ Britain/ England 

The lead singer of Judas Priest is gay. The commenter’s father thought it was kinda funny because it didn’t match with his biker aesthetic, but the commenter doesn’t think he considered how much leather he wears on a daily basis

Hell bent for Leather was a track off Killing Machine. It was written by lead guitarist Glenn Tipton (who is straight), but it's fun to find alternative meanings in Priest songs. A second commenter likes to pretend a lot of the lyrics Halford sings are gayer than they actually are.

A couple people mentioned how uncomfortable it was seeing Ru Paul interact with British drag queens because he barely knows anything about British culture.

Ru Paul got angry that a British drag queen hasn’t seen the Golden Girls because “it’s gay culture” and then not five minutes later someone had to explain to him who Alan Turing was.

Alan Turing, who was an incredibly noteworthy figure (He made the Enigma codebreaker machine, which broke the code that was used by Nazis during the war and basically sped up the war by a significant margin. He also set the foundations for artificial intelligence, one achievement he was named for: the Turing Test), was homosexual and prosecuted multiple times because of it

Shakespeare was probably bisexual (some of his sonnets had homoerotic subtext/were sent to a younger man). Plus, Hamlet is gay as fuck. 

Sonnet 46 was very gay. Here’s a link!

King James 1st was corrupt and used his position to promote his gay lover to higher positions than he should've gotten. 

The 13 year old king James 6th of Scotland and 1st of England fell in love with a 37 year old catholic Franco Scottish man. The king gave the older man so much free shit that other lords started getting salty and his lover ended up converting to Presbyterianism out of loyalty to his young lover. He also fell in love with a man who ''was noted for his handsome appearance as well as his limited intelligence.'' 

Clearly James was into himbos, and women too.

He had a secret tunnel connecting his bedroom to George Villiers’s bedroom.

His relationship with Villiers was basically common knowledge and a source of much amusement and mockery. He also once said that his relationship with Villiers was equivalent to the relationship that Christ had with John the Baptist

Much more recently, there's obviously JKR and the banning of puberty blockers and Margaret Thatcher opposing LGBTQ+ rights by passing a law meaning you couldn't 'promote homosexuality'. 

Prince Philip was a racist twat (and probably a huge homophobe knowing him).

Gay marriage only became legal in 2014.

The Wolfenden Report was published in 1957, and it recommended the decriminalization of homosexual acts between consenting adults. It was a huge topic of public debate, and ultimately led to the Sexual Offences act of 1967, which legalized sexual acts between consenting men aged 21 or over in England and Wales (sexual acts between women were never explicitly criminalized). Scotland decriminalized sex between men in 1980, and Northern Ireland in 1982. 

For a totally batshit real-life bit of gay history, check out the show A Very English Scandal. It's about a politician, Jeremy Thorpe, who put a hit out on his former lover who was threatening to go public with the fact they had had a relationship. 

Austria

Gay marriage was legalized in Austria about 3 years ago. The worst thing is that it'd have staid illegal if the Supreme Court wouldn't have jumped in and declare it to be unconstitutional.

Austria did have something called "partnership" which was where gay couples could officially register with the state as couples but not receive any of the benefits of married het people

They still have super backwards Transphobic laws requiring for example "real life experience" to get even diagnosed. Basically you're forced to be and live as feminine/masc as possible and a doctor them judges if you're femme or masc enough. It's torture

Australia had widespread, over 60% approval of gay marriage for well over a decade before the government legalized it. The governments were actually going against the people for a very long time by denying it.

Taiwan/ Hong Kong/ Mainland China

When Taiwan recently legalized gay marriage, their official statement was something along the lines that they were casting off Western-imposed values and returning to their own traditional values and the entire western lgbt community ridiculed them in a "if that's what you need to tell yourself" sort of way but it's actually the truth. 

Prior to western colonization, the Imperial Chinese attitude toward sexuality was not dissimilar to Greco-Roman attitudes in that a man must marry a woman to beget legitimate heirs but whatever else he does on the side is his own business. It wasn't until Victorian colonizers came along and imposed homophobic attitudes on China that China started treating gays like abominations. In Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Mainland China, as indeed most of the world, homophobia is a western value imposed by colonizers.

Bonus history: there is an actual saying in Arabic that was in widespread use across the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years from classical antiquity until European colonization. The saying goes "Women are for babies, [young men] are for fun."

The commenter specifies that this means “college-aged twinks,” not children

Another commenter speculates about when homophobia arose in China and how. They also add that in Rome, bottoms were stigmatized. 

There’s a story of Emperor Ai of the Han dynasty & him cutting off his sleeve for his boyfriend

There is also a god worshipped in Taiwan, the Rabbit God Tu'er Shen, whose domain is managing love and sex between same-sex attracted people. He is meant to be the incarnation of a soldier from the 17th century, who fell in love with an imperial inspector and spied on him bathing, and was tortured and killed by that official because he was offended by the spying. A villager from the soldier's hometown dreamed that Tu'er Shen appeared to him and said that because his crime had been love, he had been appointed to manage the affairs of gay people. The villagers erected a secret temple to the soldier, and people have been praying to him ever since.

South Africa

South Africa became the first nation in the world to explicitly prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation in its constitution. It was also first country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2006. What really set them back for so long was apartheid.

There is some speculation that that Shaka Zulu was gay since he never took any wives

South Africa's post Apartheid constitution was the first in the world to outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation in 1996.

South Africa was also the 5th country in the world and only country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2005.

Even before that the Constitutional Court ruled that sexual orientation was not relevant when deciding child custody in 2002.

Transgender folks have been allowed to change their sex in the population registry since 2003.

Conversion therapy is not illegal yet and public opinion still needs some work.

Spain

In Spain gay marriage was legalized in 2005, now they are considered one of de gay-friendliest countries in the world. The commenter is a lesbian and has never been closeted or directly experienced discrimination for being a lesbian.

In July 2005, Spain became the third country in the world to explicitly legalize gay marriage, after a thirty-year struggle following the fall of Franco's dictatorship, during which most activism was carried clandestinely (as it was illegal).

From 2007 onwards, Spanish [binary] trans people can legally correct the name and sex fields of their IDs and currently, there's a push for a law that would allow for legal recognition of non-binary Spaniards.

Despite the dictatorship in the 60s, there were cinemas that specialized in gay meet ups. Trans women also had ways to get passports so they could go to the US for surgery.

Ireland

In Northern Ireland, same sex marriage only became legal in 2020 and the leader of the most popular party is homophobic transphobic racist and sexist af. In fact, the majority of the party are but some of the quotes from the biggest party leader are depressing.

Same-sex marriage was only legalized in Ireland in 2015. Homosexuality was decriminalized in 1993. 

When Ireland legalized same sex marriage by popular vote in 2015, it was still something you got horribly bullied for in schools if you were out. Queer people got an apology from the Taoiseach in 2018, for the suffering and discrimination we faced from the State prior to the legalization of homosexuality.

In the case of trans rights, in 2015 the Gender Recognition Act was signed into law. It allows legal gender changes without the requirement of medical intervention or assessment by the state as long as you are over the age of 18. 

Ireland has fines and jail time for anyone found guilty of attempting conversation therapy. 

Ireland has seen a lot of progress in LGBT rights in the last 6 years but even up to the 2000s, citizens left their family members and friends to rot for being LGBT+. It still happens all over the country, especially in circles that are still fanatically Catholic. As the Catholic Church has lost the iron grip on the country, people have become more accepting of the LGBT+.

India

The Kamasutra(ancient text on sexuality etc.) has an entire chapter dedicated to homosexuality

The Arthashastra, a 2nd century BCE Indian treatise on statecraft, mentions a wide variety of sexual practices which, whether performed with a man or a woman, were sought to be punished with the lowest grade of fine. While homosexual intercourse was not sanctioned, it was treated as a very minor offence, and several kinds of heterosexual intercourse were punished more severely.

Sex between non-virgin women incurred a small fine, while homosexual intercourse between men could be made up for merely with a bath with one's clothes on, and a penance of "eating the five products of the cow and keeping a one-night fast"

Milk, curd (cheese), ghi (clarified butter), urine, and dung are the five products of a cow

The commenter adds that this is not a terrible punishment.

The Mughal Empire mandated a common set of punishments for homosexuality, which could include 50 lashes for a slave, 100 for a free infidel, or death by stoning for a Muslim

On 6 September 2018 the Supreme Court of India invalidated part of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code making homosexuality legal in India

Prior to the British colonization of India homosexuality was not all that looked down upon when compared to what happened when the British took over and instituted anti gay laws.

The Hijra (literally means third gender) were seen as normal and have been accepted since long before Christ, as evidenced by the Karma Sutra. The British took videos of them to take back to demonstrate how the Desi were “barbaric”.

Bonsia

In Bosnia, there was a one pride parade that ended with religious extremists ruining it and the police not doing anything. It was supposed to be 5 maybe 3 days long but ended in like 1 or 2.

The Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe mapped out the entire night sky with only his eyes. It laid the foundations of many later scientists, such as Isaac Newton. He was a very rich nobleman, so much so that he owned 1% of Denmark's money. He had a pet dwarf that apparently could see the future, which sounds pretty gay. He was also part of the Elefant Ordning, which consisted of rich and strong Danish men.

Philippines 

Despite many attempts to legalize same-sex marriage, the Philippines still didn't budge. Being gay in itself is legal, but same-sex marriage still isn't.

Philippines ,the most Catholic Country in Southeast Asia, has held the largest Pride Parade in Southeast Asia.

Serbia

Serbia didn't have history from about 16th century to 1800's when the 1st revolt happened and failed till 1813's... Then yet another in 1830's for semi independence from Turks, and full in 1836

During the last lingering Ottoman rule over autonomous Serbia, Serbia was one of the very first few countries to have legal mostly everything... it then got removed with like 3 constitution changes and then it didn't move forward for a looong time

Switzerland

Would you have thought that small, conservative Switzerland was a center of the international gay community during the mid-20th century? The magazine "Der Kreis"- the circle - was the only queer magazine in the world that kept publishing during WWII. It was edited in Zurich and distributed internationally, which often meant illegal smuggling, even into nazi Germany. The magazine's annual ball was attended by hundreds of gay men from all over Europe each year. The whole thing was kept strictly secret from the public, though it was known and tolerated by the police.

The Kreis club disbanded in 1967, as repressions grew heavier after a number of murders in the scene had caught the public's attention. By then, other European and American groups took its place, publishing their own magazines.

They made a movie about it.

More info about Der Kreis

As of today, Switzerland doesn't allow gay marriage. A country-wide referendum will be held this fall on gay marriage.

The commenter speculates that gay marriage will be legalized.

A few people expressed surprise that Switerland is socially conservative and several people explained that women’s right to vote was only place in the 70s.

There’s a movie about it

Turkey

A Muslim Persian (born in modern day Turkey) philosopher/mysticist named Mewlana who is known for his sayings on acceptance and love for one another was gay! He had exchanged letters with his instructor Shams and wrote homoerotic poems to him! In Turkey this is ignored by many due to the country's stance on homosexuality

More information

Norway

The commenter’s hometown and the neighboring town arranged their first pride parade/event in 2017, which is a big deal for a small place and one of the local priests went livid and went straight to the newspaper and social media to condemn it. A local rapper wrote a short and to the point article in the newspaper calling him out for all kinds of things which was a great read. Then to top it off, the priest arranged for a "Jesus Parade" in protest to be held the day before the pride parade. Only like five people walked in it, not including the priest of course because he happened to be on vacation in Spain that week. The pride parade itself was a success though! It's become an annual event. Covid has put some breaks on it though, but they're making a documentary this year about the pride celebrations.

Hungary

Hungary has no same sex marriage or transition rights

Police are unkind to protestors

During “commie times,” being queer was illegal so queer people went to the gulag

Belgium

Same sex marriage was legalized in Belgium in 2003 (right after the NL who were the first in the world). The commenter says that same-sex marriage has always felt possible and she is confused about other countries’ actions.

Poland

Polish president on public assembly: 'LGBT is not people, this is ideology'.

Denmark

WHO took their sweet time declassifying being transgender as a mental illness, so Denmark got sick of waiting and became the first country to stop classifying it as an illness.

Australia

In Australia same-sex marriage wasn't legal until 2017.

Portugal

Portugal is know for having one of the most (if not THE most) peaceful revolutions in history back in the 60's, with only 4 deaths total.

Canada

Operation Soap.

Mexico

To learn more, watch Dance of the 41 on Netflix.

Netherlands

NL was one of the first countries to legalize gay marriage in 2001

Sweden

In Sweden they used to classify Homosexuality as a disease during the 20th century so in protest people would call in too gay to work.

New Zealand

When same sex marriage was legalized, the parliament broke into song.

The song

Other

Homosexuality is illegal in 73 countries, some by death or life in prison.

Only one country in Asia has legalized same-sex marriage: Taiwan

FNAF is older than same-sex marriage in the US

Condor Operation

I think this is some important stuff so please reblog so more people can see! And, if you would like to add to or correct anything here, feel free to do so!

[thessalian]

Thess vs Media Gaslighting

*ahem*

I AM SICK TO THE BACK TEETH OF BEING GASLIT BY THE GOVERNMENT AND THE FUCKING MEDIA!

*little huff of a sigh*

Okay. ...Actually, no, I don’t feel better, but it had to be said. I mean, really.

So. Local elections. I don’t think all the votes are counted in all areas yet, but as we currently stand? The Conservatives lost nearly four hundred seats in local government. The gains were an uneven split between Labour, Liberal Democrat (honestly, they were fairly close), and the Green Party (still trailing in gains but still, they gained seats, which is a thing).

Northern Ireland is ... going to have problems, because Sinn Fein is on track to be the majority in the Northern Ireland assembly. I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything to a lot of people, but suffice to say that they are a republican party that’s very much for the reunification of Northern Ireland with Ireland. Apparently people in Northern Ireland are sick of this Northern Ireland Protocol bullshit. That’s going to get politically ... sticky. But what that basically means is that the Democratic Unionist Party (effectively the more Conservative-leaning, anti-reunification party that’s been screwed by the Tories time and time again since this Brexit mess started) just lost an awful lot of local assembly seats in Northern Ireland.

Also in the losses? Most of London. Even areas that traditionally vote Tory because they’re the districts where the wealthy and privileged live, or where people have been scared off voting Labour because of that antisemitism bullshit that was going around. Also a whole hell of a lot of other seats. When I say nearly four hundred, I mean it - 386 and counting. All of that is telling. Very, very telling.

But what are most of the news reports saying? “This isn’t evidence that Labour would win if an election happened tomorrow.” “Here, let’s focus on the few seats the Tories did win!” Some people - and this is more people than news outlets - are actually trying to sell this as a net win for Johnson and the Tories because “people are voting along Brexit lines still!” Yeah, and those districts where people are voting have MPs as well as local government. If there was an election tomorrow, do you really think people who voted Labour or Lib Dem for the first time in their lives are going to vote for a Tory MP when they effectively punted their local councilpersons for even standing with Johnson and his political party?

Thing is, I read the Guardian - what my mother calls “communist trash”. Funny, though - their reporting of the local elections much more fits the reality of the situation when looking at the straight-up numbers than the Telegraph, the Times, and sure as hell the Mail. No, maybe Labour wouldn’t win a majority in a general election if it happened tomorrow. But Labour doesn’t have to. All Labour has to do is keep the Conservatives from hitting the magic number in First Past the Post, and then either form a coalition with Lib Dem (who I’m sure have learned their lesson about a coalition with the Tories after the mess in 2010) or just have a minority government. The latter’s not ideal, and Starmer would have to swallow some pride for the former, but it’s still doable, because no political party in their right mind is going to form a coalition with Johnson.

So ... y’know ... if people think that the Tories would win another general election with Johnson as PM? Go for it, guys. Northern Ireland’s sick of the whole thing. Scotland’s still largely Scottish National Party but Labour shoved the Conservative government there way down at the bottom of the ranking in terms of seats. The Tories got what are being called “disastrous losses” in Wales, and the Welsh, being an outspoken bunch of buggers, were asking some very pointed questions about Johnson any time a door-to-door canvasser came ‘round. And London - where Johnson was once mayor - almost unilaterally told the Tories to fuck off. Probably because we had to live with Johnson as our mayor and we’re now seeing how much worse he and his party get when he’s got the top spot.

I’m just tired of the spin. I’m tired of the “Oh, this isn’t so bad” and the “Oh, this doesn’t really mean anything” and all that shit. This means a lot. This may mean the reunification of Ireland. This may mean Scotland and Wales going for independence. This certainly means that we the people are sick of the Tories’ bullshit. And that includes having most media outlets refusing to say anything that might be negative about the current government because of the threats of, for instance, cutting BBC funding, or selling off Channel 4, or lawsuits like Carole Cadwalladr faced.

So, seriously, dear news media? LET ME HAVE THIS. Let me have this knowledge that this country has had enough, that it’s actually seeing what the Tories have done. Even if it’s just because it’s affecting their standard of living rather than things like the curtailing our right to protest, the voter suppression, the mistreatment of refugees ... at this point, I don’t care why. If they only want the Tories out for selfish reasons, these voters? AT LEAST THEY WANT THEM OUT.

So the very least the news media could do is acknowledge that. When a Prime Minister loses nearly four hundred local representatives just because they stand by said Prime Minister by remaining in his government? That says things. Stop trying to gaslight me into believing that it doesn’t.

[writing-in-april]

Origins

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader feels homesick after a particularly gruesome case. Spencer can’t buy a plane ticket, but he can try to help recreate part of home with them.

A/N: hey heyyyy- this is my eighth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- I’m very nervous for this one to be honest- idk if it’s going to be a lot of peoples cup of tea- this one had me researching a lot lol since I have no clue about boats at all lol- I hope I did the request at least a bit of justice (sorry in advance if I fuck up any terms or anything) but I think I did pretty well with my research (I think). I originally got the request from @imagining-in-the-margins when she handed it over to me also thanks for some help on the folklore parts too! Here it is-

I always want to hear from you guys so feel free to drop me an ask here- and hopefully y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: ~disclaimer lol I know nothing about boating~ Anyway into the other warnings- Takes place directly after season 3 episode 8 (Lucky with Floyd Feylinn) Spencer gets really fucking sea sick- poor baby, Reader is from overseas (originally Cornwall in the request but I made it a bit more vague) and Reader’s father is a fisherman

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.8k

The air that floated around whenever I was out on the water, salty sea water or fresh salt water always seemed to breath life back into my lungs. The river that we were boating on was quite salty near its widest point, tides brought the saltwater in to mix with the fresh making the water quite brackish.

I was lucky to still live somewhat near water after I had moved over to America. I hadn’t had the luxury of picking exactly where I was going to live and work when I transferred to the FBI, I just happened to draw all the right cards. With my schedule I didn’t go out on the water as much as I used to, definitely not as often as I had as a child. I yearned often to feel the specific type of air people only felt when on the water, especially when my job got particularly gruesome.

Gruesome was a way to define the last case my team and I had been brought in to investigate. My stomach churned at the thought of our last unsub, his name couldn’t leave my mind and the images of his heinous acts certainly didn’t leave either. Floyd Feylinn Ferell had been his name, though I wished I could forever scrub it from my memory. His crimes were too vile that everything seemed to trigger a memory, specifically of the frozen corpses.

The team had even noticed how affected I was by the case, often sending me worrying looks whenever it looked like blood drained from my face over sheer shock- just like the corpses. Cases had been gruesome before, sure, but there was something about this one made me feel frozen by fear.

I needed air, and not just any old air.

Homesickness was another factor that was making me feel so ill. I hadn’t been back to my home in so long, the only time I spoke with my father was over the phone, no video chats at all. He was just as technophobic as Spencer, maybe even more so to be honest. My father’s life as a fisherman hadn’t made him exceptionally tech savvy. He did know how to work a phone now thanks to you, which was another similarity to him and Spencer. I had helped Spencer learn how to work his new smartphone just last week.

Spencer, my lovely boyfriend of a few months, wanted to help quell my dark thoughts as best as he could with all of his knowledge. His first solution was to always revert to books, which I didn’t mind, it only made him more special to me. He tried to find books that would remind me of home- and get my mind off of gruesome cases that were closed and shut cases.

Hotch had then suggested the team take a day off, just one. After weeks of back to back cases with little to no reprieve we’d finally get some time alone, even if it was only for a day. All I needed was one day to get on the water and cleanse myself of the negative thoughts I had been feeling lately.

It was actually Spencer that had first suggested this excursion. He had come to one of our dates with his arms full of pamphlets all about renting a boat for the day. He also had definitely read up about boats, I’d expect nothing less of Spencer. I had learned it was his way of subtly showing affection, researching anything that I even was passively interested in.

Spencer packed even more than I did when we set off on the day long date, packing to the brim at least one too many bags- to be honest he packed two too many bags.

Once we had gotten the boat out into the water, the relief was almost instant. It was like my body knew I was home. I wasn’t actually at home of course, but it somehow knew I was near the water again. Honestly, Spencer hadn’t been far off when he called me a mermaid on one of our first dates, I had gone on a ramble about my love for it.

The water wasn’t nearly as clear as where I had grown up, much more dull in my opinion. But, the breeze that danced across my skin as well as the water made me feel more at home then I had been in a long time. After letting the mist spray onto my cheeks for a while I looked over to check on Spencer, who was not doing well by the looks of it.

Spencer’s face was twisted up in a grimace, not used to being in a boat. Until I had asked him a few weeks ago, to make sure it would be safe to go out on the water with him, I hadn’t even been sure he could swim. I also wasn’t that surprised that he had this reaction, it would have been less of a problem if it was a boat that I had picked out and bought. But, I’d take what I’d get if only to be by the water.

He pretended to hide his urge to dry heave over the side of the small boat that I had rented for the weekend. He looked almost green at this point, I knew he was only staying for my benefit at this point making me a tad bit sad. Water definitely seemed to have the opposite effect on Spencer compared to me, being on the water always felt like instant relaxation to me.

I still, however, didn’t want him to feel any major discomfort like he was obviously feeling so I decided to pipe up since he wouldn’t tell me himself, “Are you sure you’re ok enough to stay, Spencer?”

He pulled his life vest around himself as tight as he could while crossing his arms around his stomach. It took him a second to answer and in that time I almost started to turn the boat around back to the bay.

“I’m fine!” He squeaked out and I could see a shiver run through him. If I had offered to turn the boat around he’d most definitely have given me a glare, not wanting me to turn it around for his own sake. I squinted my eyes in suspicion, he was not completely fine obviously, but if he was insistent on staying maybe I could find something to distract him from it.

“Do you want to hear a sea shanty or do you want me to tell a regular story?” I asked out into the wind, thinking that might distract him from his nausea.

“A story, but you can’t call them regular stories.” He teased back as well as he could with the urge to dry heave, as if he didn’t know what I had meant. I scooted a little closer to him before I prepared myself to tell my story.

Selkies were always the ones I started out with whenever I told the stories I had grown up with. Despite its dark undertones I had latched onto the story as a child, finding it similar to the mainstream perception of what mermaids were. Though I’m reality seals that could transform into humans were a far cry from mainstream ideas of mermaids, a Merrow would have been a better comparison.

I always gave Spencer the origins of the story, he liked to know exactly where they had come from and how I had heard about the story in the first place, “As you know by now the folklore about Selkie’s originates from Scotland. Well- let me think about what I haven’t told you about Selkies before…” I pondered for a moment before remembering an aspect of the Selkies powers I hadn’t educated Spencer on yet. There was no doubt in my mind that he probably had all this information stored away in his brain somewhere, it was nice to know that someone genuinely cared about the stories I liked to tell. “Selkies are immortal, but they can be killed by other creatures. And I know I’ve told you that part, but I haven’t told you that they are generally killed by sharks when they are in seal form.”

I then went into the whole lore surrounding Selkie’s immortality. My hands were waving around animatedly as I talked, just like how the small waves were rocking our boat. They had definitely calmed down by now, hopefully Spencer would feel better soon.

Once I finished my tale I beamed over at him, my mood had brightened significantly over this trip, even though I could sense that Spencer’s had not. Though the story might have helped, he seemed a little less sickly now. He then managed to ask again without puking, “Could you tell another story? Maybe about the Kelpies? Or the Pixies of Cornwall? You can pick anything though really, I love listening to your stories.”

My heart swelled enough from his words that I thought it might burst. I wouldn’t have expected anything less of Spencer, he always hunted for more knowledge about things he was maybe more ignorant about compared to other topics.

I opted to then tell him about the Kelpies, who were also water dwelling creatures, before moving onto the pixies. He even seemed to be getting attached to the same stories that you favored as a child, and even as an adult.

I looked over at him as I finished my last little bit of information that I felt I could muster up today. A smile filled with fondness crept onto my face, his fluffy hair strewn about. It was cute despite his lingering sea sickness.

His face was remarkably less green now, my stories must have soothed him which made me feel heat run to my cheeks. Each time Spencer took interest in my origins I felt deeper feelings bubbling up, that were more than what we had expressed yet. Instead of voicing my full feelings just yet, I leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss on the forehead. He may have not looked green anymore, but I’d wait to give him a kiss on the lips until after we got back to shore, just in case something was to happen.

“Can you sing now?” I knew that he was not requesting me to sing any silly old song. He wanted me to sing the sea shantys that my father had taught me as a child. Not that I minded his request, I’d do anything to make him happier and I loved singing them anyway.

I smiled brightly as I guided the boat back to shore while I sang, already feeling lighter. It had not just been the water this time that made me feel better, it was also because of Spencer. He had taken so much care to help me feel more connected with home, loving to learn about your origins.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith I’m sorry 😭

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

[sweetnsour1]

Dear sweet,

better late than never I would like to participate in your 1kweek question game.

I want to ask: w u t. 🤣

w. What's the last anime you watched? Who's your favorite character in it?

"The Legend of Vox Machina" (It's not an anime in the classic sense, but the drawing style reminds me of one. I hope that still counts xD)

It is an adult animated fantasy tv series based on campaign one of Critical Role, which is a Dungeons & Dragons web series. I highly recommend it, it is really fun to watch.

My favorite character is Vax, 'cause he is a fucking badass with a soft core and hot as hell. And I love his voice actor Liam O'Brien.

u. What is your nervous habit?

When I'm nervous or very focused, I pluck at my lower lip, even pulling off little scraps of skin. It doesn't hurt, but sometimes I overdo it and pull off too much, then it bleeds a little.

I got into this habit 5 years ago during my bachelor thesis. My husband hates when I do this, so I tried to break the habit once, but I had a relapse after a few months and now I'm living with it. But everytime my husband looks at me when I'm doing it, I remember what I'm doing and stop it - only to start again a few minutes later. 😅

t. Where was your last vacation? Would you go again?

On my last vacation I went to Scotland with my husband and a friend of mine. We hiked the West Highland Way. If you don't know it, this is one of the most famous hiking trails in Scotland. We walked a total of 135 km within 8 days (including one break day). It was quite exhausting and at the end our feet hurt a lot, but all in all it was super fun. The landscapes were fantastic (we hiked alongside a lake and moor, through fairytale like forests and over hills), we were really lucky with the weather, we drank good whiskey in the evening and I love British food and people anyway. An all around enjoyable vacation. I can highly recommend this walking tour and Scotland in general as a travel destination. I would go there again at any time.

Hello again, my little lamb🖤

W: Ooo I think I watched one episode of that and life got me distracted so I literally forgot about it until your message now lol. I’ll have to look it up and try it again!

I’ve been sick, so I’ve pretty much just been binging studio ghibli movies so I’m counting Princess Mononoke as my last watch. My favorite character would be mama wolf bc she is petty and I love it. My actual last anime watch was jjk 0. My love for Gojo is possibly unhealthier than my love for Bakugou, but I’m totally fine with that. 😂 it probably has something to do with my sick love for Howl Pendragon, who essentially is the og gojo

U: Fuck, nothing brings out stress like the world of academia. I do a lot of fidgeting with my fingernails. Like I trace the outline of my thumbnail with each finger and repeat that infinitely until my sister tosses a fidget toy at my face. I’ve also been gifted fidget spinner rings which help a lot with that as well. However, sometimes thats way louder and more annoying to people 😂

T: I. AM. SO. JEALOUS. Scotland is like my dreammmmmm vacation. I just want to be surrounded by grass and mist and rain and whiskey and that accent. Just wanna seduce a sexy ginger that I can barely understand and live there forever.

My last trip was a resort in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It was a compromise bc my sister wanted a trip that was like a spa thing but I can’t stand having strangers touch me sooo we went for a place with hot springs! It was so fun being able to hop into the springs any time of day you wanted. It was crazy relaxing. And it was cold there still so I was in loooooove. The day it snowed and we could still be outside in bathing suits 🖤🖤🖤 10/10 would recommend and now want to go to all hot springs everywhere bc I am ADDICTED

Thanks for telling and asking!

Last day for the game

[johns-prince]

“I’ve seen religion from Jesus to Paul” I always thought that line wasn’t about John worshipping Paul, but about other people worshipping Paul. I mean, John is criticising religion in this song, he’s criticising worship. He didn’t believe in Jesus, so “from Jesus to Paul” doesn’t seem like it’s supposed to be about himself and his religions imo. I always thought it was about beatlemania and how people worship Paul like a god when in reality he’s just as flawed as any of us. It’d fit with John being mad at Paul.

I might be wrong of course! I never thought about it as John saying he worshipped Paul, so my point of view isn’t really well thought out or anything. It’s just what goes through my head when I listen to the song. I hope you don’t think I disagree with you or anything 🥺 I just love discussing mclennon

No, I think you’re right, but I also believe it’s more complicated than that.

I found something, and I find it really interesting:

“In this angry and bitter song Lennon attacks a number of falsehoods such as the idolatry of the Beatles and how he is the focus for many of those involved in the peace movement.” [x]

It’s incredibly curious how John went with using only Paul’s name, if that’s what this song is supposed to be about. If it’s supposed to be about the whole band itself, why only use Paul’s name in it? Why be so direct as that? We know why—

“The lyrics are some of Lennon’s most vitriolic, taking shots at religion, his parents, drugs, and even his former songwriting partner (“I seen religion from Jesus to Paul”). It presents a clear perspective on the past, a theme he would revisit on the Imagine album’s ‘Oh My Love’ the following year.” [x]

Now that make’s better sense, since I don’t believe this was taking a shot directly at The Beatles and the period of idolatry (Beatlemania), but taking direct shots at Paul. 

It’s hypocritical for him to basically claim people were worshipping Paul like some God or religion, when John was being no better in basically being quite obsessive about the man. The opposite of love isn’t hate, but indifference.

And again, if this song is supposed to be about criticizing the worship and idolatry of The Beatles, why is he only directly referencing Paul McCartney? 

Doesn’t add up. 

To me this song is not only for John to “air out” his supposed grievances, and emotions/feelings towards Paul, but to be petty, and lash out at his ex-partner.  

This song screams scorned lover to me, someone who’s clearly hurt, deeply hurt, and is lashing out and using music to convey how he feels. I don’t agree that it presents a clear perspective on the past, because it’s John in the 70s and we all must acknowledge that 70s John is not at all a reliable narrator, and often contradicted himself in interviews and double backed on what he’d say about the past, and what he had to say or feel about Paul. It’s his perspective, that’s true, but more-so a skewed perspective on not only the past, but of his feelings at the time and heat of the moment, towards Paul.

John was probably not only envious (To John, Paul is stable, he’s put together, and John recognized and acknowledged that Paul was extraordinarily talented and could very well succeed without him), but hurt that Paul, it seemed, didn’t need him to get along. A fear that most likely rooted and became a nagging insecurity, after Paul unleashed Yesterday in 1965, and then came the questions of whether Paul would leave The Beatles (John) and start a solo career. 

It’s obvious that the band broke up because of what was going on between John and Paul, their falling out due to John’s growing lack of involvement due to his use of heroin, which made him unapproachable and testy, his unhealthy escapism into Yoko and her influence/presence. In the end, it’s no real surprise that Paul left. John resented it, even if it was his fault, his doing and behavior that left Paul with no other choice then to abandon ship. 

So, Paul left him, and was planning on going solo, and launching his own band in the next year.

Now let me point something out put on your tinfoil hats let’s see if I don’t lose any of you here lol—

Now that I showed you what I been through Don't take nobody's word what you can do There ain't no Jesus gonna come from the sky Now that I found out I know I can cry I, I found out I, I found out

Okay, so I’m reading the two lyrics “There ain’t no Jesus gonna come from the sky,” and “Now that I found out I know I can cry,” as connected. While yes John didn’t seem to believe in Jesus, he was still spiritual. Now, take those two lyrics, of some messiah not going to come and how the realization of it, of the fact this religion or ‘God’ isn’t going to come down and save you— and finding this out, of course you’re going to cry. 

What you believed was going to somehow save you, save you from the miseries of life and save you from yourself, wasn’t actually going to come, or happen, that can really break person who was relying on such faith. 

I seen through junkies, I been through it all I've seen religion from Jesus to Paul Don't let them fool you with dope and cocaine No one harm you feel your own pain I, I found out I, I found this out I, I found out

Now, I do agree that John is knocking religion and idolatry worship, but also taking shots at Paul. 

But I just think John’s outing himself here, because, okay look. John’s seen through junkies— John was a junkie when writing this, let’s be real. He can say he isn’t fooled by them, but he clearly is— he was fooling himself. 

So let’s just go with John is apparently attacking The Beatles here— we all know John loved The Beatles, and had just as much faith and passion for it as Paul did. He put all his eggs in that theoretical basket. 

And throughout the height of The Beatles, who were the two always together? Who had plans about sticking together and growing old together still making music? Who two had ideas to write a musical together, one day? 

John and Paul were John and Paul, and both believed it was always going to be that way. They’d mentioned running off to Scotland to escape a potential draft, Paul had said that after The Beatles he and John would still continue making music together, that as they got older they’d even make music for other, younger musicians to play. It was ALWAYS John and Paul, like, always. 

So imagine you have all this faith in someone, all this love, you see them as a stable structure in your life, someone who rarely let’s you down, who’s ALWAYS going to be there for you, who has shared so many intimate experiences with, who knows you and has seen you without your armor on, seen the good the  bad and the ugly and still wants to be with you, who you’ve shared similar, vivid dreams with, who would experience misery and fear with you (the LSD trip), who seemingly shares a secret and unspoken language with you— only for all of it, to fall flat, for it to go horribly wrong, for them to (unintentionally) reject you, to hurt you and leave you feeling abandoned and alone. That perhaps they don’t love you in the way you’d come to the realization that you wanted them too. 

For you to realize, or feel, like they can’t save you, that they can’t fix you. Because, like you said, Paul isn’t perfect, he doesn’t always have it together, he wasn’t as stable as John believed him to be naturally— Paul’s just as flawed as any of us. He was struggling too, and simply couldn’t always meet John’s sometimes unrealistic expectations and desires.

I think in some way, The Beatles, and thus Paul, were somewhat of a religion to John. He believed in them unlike anything else. Even if partially satirical, the comment of them becoming Bigger than Jesus, I think that in itself is worship (even if that’s unintentional, or perhaps a Freudian slip) of what they all created together— what John and Paul created together. That they could become more popular than Jesus Christ himself, and the religions he’s attached too. 

So I honestly believe John was just telling on himself throughout this song. How John wrote his songs, they were personal, they had something to do with him, how he felt and perceived things, his desires and fears— even when attacking or criticizing someone, or something else. 

Cor I could be 100% completely wrong in my interpretation and analysis, and I’m just a biased McLennoner who needs to shaddup.

Now a side tangent real quick because I found this and I have something to say:

“This song includes the line: "The freaks on the phone won't leave me alone, so don't give me that brother, brother." Lennon explained the lyric to the January edition of Rolling Stone. He said: "I'm sick of all these aggressive hippies or whatever they are, the "Now Generation," being very up-tight with me. Either on the street or anywhere, or on the phone, demanding my attention, as if I owed them something."  [x]

In 1969 he and Yoko did that performative, elitist Bed In For Peace for two whole bloody weeks. Not to mention spreading all that “War is over if you want it to be,” sloganeering. Of course they (the hippie Now Generation) expected something from him, he’d been playing political activist with Yoko for attention, and he got it. So for him to be bitching about suddenly being looked too as some leading figure for these movements, I think is pretty telling. 

Like how it mentioned up there, that John had an issue being part of the main focus for those in the ‘Peace movement’, I think it’s funny, or at most annoying, how people claim John was some hippie or commie when, I think it was clear, he didn’t want anything to do with those individuals or whatever they were selling (I mean John was materialistic and a capitalist, all the boys were) John wasn’t political, he wasn’t very interested in all that, and like with most things, his fascination and interest in it faded quickly and he became bored and disillusioned by the ideologies and political figures, and dropped them.

I’m not saying John didn’t care, like anyone he had opinions and thoughts, feelings on subjects— he wasn’t seriously into politics. He wasn’t a political leader, he didn’t want to become a political figure or martyr, he wasn’t a radical of any sorts, and had admitted later on about being embarrassed about who he was during the Imagine period of his life, and regretted a lot of what he’d said or done. 

Anyway... I know this was supposed to be about dissecting the lyrical and personal(mclennon) meaning too “I’ve seen religion from Jesus to Paul,” but it really is all over the place. Sorry about that. 

[bansheeoftheforest]

Syndicate + gang leader au where Henry kills his brothers

Jacob x Henry because it’s healthier than Lanyon x Henry

-🦎

OK THIS ONE IM ACTUALLY GOING TO TRY TO STAY ON TOPIC TO AND JUST RAMBLE IDEAS AND HCS INSTEAD OF TRYING TO MAKE A GODDAMN MASTER LIST OF EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN THE AU JFC HOW DOES THAT KEEP HAPPENING SDJFHSJDF

Anyways <3

Gang leader / Syndicate crossover au:

Henry is the youngest of the three brothers, Raphael and Kent are nonidentical twins. Henry is two years younger than them and has always been the baby of the group. Raphael and Kent have always been protective of him and also love to mess with him.

Their parents were abusive, Raphael and Kent decided to take the opportunity to leave Glasgow the first moment they got and they took Henry with them. They moved to London and one of their uncles-- who owned and inherited quite a successful shipping company by the London docks-- gave Kent and Raphael jobs as Henry went to university. The uncle died before Henry graduated, and left the business to Raphael and Kent.

Henry did not talk a lot to his brothers while in University. He tried to reach out to them but suddenly Raphael and Kent were "incredibly busy", Henry assumed they were busy trying to keep the family business going well.

He went to visit them on their dock after he graduated and got his doctorate. He had learned a lot about the London "culture" and gangs from Robert (and Rachel) telling him everything there is about the London underground and the aristocracy. Much to his horror, he arrived at the docks to find his brothers dressed as Templars.

Henry was quickly forced into the Templar order against his will. His brothers gaslight and manipulated him into joining, other members threatened to hurt him or his friends if he didn't join, and it ended up being Henry's biggest regret.

Henry spent about 13 years in the Templar order working in secret for it. He was allowed to do as he pleased as long as he made poisons for them. In the meantime, Henry tried to make up for the guilt he had from the suffering he had caused by helping people on the street. Hungry, dirty, sick people who quickly becoming loyal to the doctor who always feeds them and gives them what they need to survive.

In this part of the au, Henry more directly creates the gang. He realizes that these people are willing to fight for him and they have placed him on a pedestal. He can't get himself down from it so he takes advantage of it. He makes sure that the Society is under constant protection and that the gang brings in money that can be spent on taking care of the members and keep the Society afloat. No Lodger cares enough for the finances to notice the sudden influx of money, and Henry merely tells Rachel and Robert that it’s “sponsors”.

It was only when the Frye Twins entered and began to liberate London that he decided that it was the perfect time to finally break free from the Templar order. He had long since lost any love he still had for his brothers and he would do anything to be free again. He ended up cornering and murdering his brothers in cold blood while his gang distracted the Blighters, and he blamed the murders on the Frye Twins afterwards, the very same Frye Twins that quickly would... Well... Realize that they did not kill these Templars and instead try to track down the murderer that blamed it on them.

In the end, they find their way to Dr. Henry Jekyll's office. Henry had done a good job and working behind the scenes and no one had really suspected him of working for the Templars, so the twins-- while hearing from Greenie that it was rumored that the Jekyll Brothers and Dr. Henry Jekyll were related-- did not know that Henry himself used to be a Templar.

Henry, however, assumed they had broken into his office to kill him. He had already resigned himself to his own death, he was not going to fight it. He had burnt every photograph and document he had that connected him to his brothers and he had merely been waiting for the twins to come and kill him. He was, honest to god, quite disappointed when the Twins seemed confused and instead asked him if he knew anything about the murder of the Jekyll brothers.

"...The murder of my brothers, the Templars? The murder committed by someone close and well trusted by them, the murder that went undetected, and that was later blamed on you? The murder that had slank past the eyes of public after a convenient gang fight right that moment?"

It does not take long for the twins to realize what he is hinting to. His voice his bitter and his body language is cold, yet it doesn't sound like he regrets it.

ahaha anyways i ended up accidentally just retelling the entire thing well time for some actual hcs about this au branch.

Henry gets extreme paranoia after having murdered his brothers. He swears he can still see their faces of terror or hear their screams of pain and agony when he closes his eyes and try to go to sleep. He constantly feels followed by them, but he is too used with Hyde, so he doesn't pay attention to "them". When he doesn’t sleep, they silently follow him with whatever other hallucinations he have at the moment, like Moreau.

He wanted to be the one to murder his brothers himself, he didn't find it dignified to have someone else do the murdering for him. He generally does not want his gang to murder people, only hurt those of necessity, and he still wanted to give his brothers the dignity of not having to be killed by a random gang member.

Something in him kinda... Died that day. His friends, the Lodgers, and his very on gang could all notice how Henry seemed... Colder, more tired, constantly exhausted. He refused to tell anyone why, though, and he still did everything he needed to do so no one could force an explanation out of him. It was not until the newspapers reported on the murder that people realized that he was acting weirdly because his brothers had been murdered. Henry debated snapping his own neck once the Lodgers began to flock to him with words of sympathy, unaware that he was the murderer.

He is extremely benevolent to his gang, something many feared he wouldn’t be at first. He has always been a kind person and that’s why people began to flock to him as it was, but some feared that he would... Ah, turn crueler after a while like most gang leaders. That never happened, though. He saw each and every one of his gang members as his family, and took care of them as such.

He and his gang began teaming up with Lucy many years before either met the twins. It was always fun when Rachel tried to introduce the two of them without telling Henry that Lucy is... Well, Queen Lucy, and it was always fun to act as if they had never met before and as if Henry hadn’t just been invited to dinner the night before. Henry is really good friends with Patrin and Elise.

Henry’s gang wear blue. The Blighters wear red and before the twins and the Rook started, Henry didn’t want his own gang associated or reminding him of Hyde. Blue it was, and it easily made his gang slip into crowds and disguise themselves to be the Scotland Yard.

Neither Brokenshire nor Abberline knew about Henry’s gang until Abberline started working with the twins and until after Henry was “recruited” by them. Depending on if Henry murdered his brothers before or after he joined the twins, Abberline and Brokenshire helped him cover up the murder. 

Ahaha wow Uhm. I keep forgetting how I format and classify these as rambles but anyways time for some Jekyll x Jacob <3 This is just going to be in general btw so <3<3

Henry was incredibly endeared by Jacob from the moment he heard about him. Something about a tall, strong ruffian bringing justice to the streets of London (and fighting Templars) was just incredibly... Ah, attractive in Henry’s eyes. He actually allowed himself to feel that because hell, he works for the Templars and Jacob is supposed to be the enemy, Henry hates the Templars, why not be incredibly gay for the assassin?

Jacob shamelessly flirted with Henry from the first moment the met. Breaking into his office to figure out who murdered his brothers and Jacob could certainly not read the room. Henry was far too gone that he merely huffed and flirted back... Well, until they came to the topic at hand. Even in other branches were Henry was recruited by them to make poisons, or where they met in a gang fight, and Jacob still shamelessly flirts with Henry.

Jacob tries so hard to be romantic. Henry is incredibly amused by it. He will be working in his office late at night and Jacob will pop by his open window to demand attention. He will come back to his office after having ran son errands and there will be bouquets of fresh lavenders, lilacs, and tulips. Jacob will constantly “force” him (or, well, bribe him to leave his work) to go on dates with him, dates that consists of wandering the rooftops of London and watch the stars at night or have a nice dinner together. He loves to spoil Henry rotten <3

Jacob loves cuddles. Henry was not very physically affectionate at first. He was afraid that Jacob would end up doing the same thing Robert did to him and while he couldn’t keep away from him, Jacob made sure to take it slow for him. Their favorite pastime is to cuddle on one of the couches in the train after exhausting missions, and Henry finds that he can’t keep away from Jacob’s touch for too long.

Rachel and Robert began to introduce Henry into the more... Ah, illegal luxuries of the London life. They take him to a fight club and are highly confused when Henry suddenly gets incredibly excited as he watches his boyfriend kick the shit out of people. He completely abandons them and practically fall into Jacob’s (sweaty and slightly bloody) arms the moment the fighting is done. Both he and Hyde love to check out Jacob fighting in fight clubs.

(Jacob post-fight is probably the hottest sight Henry has ever seen and Jacob knows that fully well. Jacob often uses the money he wins from the fights buying gifts for his lil boyfriend <3). 

Another ideal date in the eyes of Jacob is highjacking Henry’s carriage and abducting him. It’s all fun and games until he accidentally does that when Jasper, Rachel, or Robert are in the carriage too. That was not fun for Henry to explain.

After Jacob and Evie have liberated all child factories, Henry makes a spur-of-the-moment decision to adopt Clara (the child who wanted the twins to free the children in the factories). Clara ends up getting raised by two very protective and very lovely-dovely dads. She spends most of her time in the Society (while still helping the kids on the street) but Jacob visits her and Henry a lot.

Look I just want Henry and Jacob to raise a kid that won’t come back and try to murder them later on ok.

Anyways on to some other hcs. Jacob loves to make sexual jokes to Henry. Henry either acts dumb and as if he doesn’t understand them, or he will shot them right back until Jacob is the one blushing (or highly embarrassed).

Jacob loves to break into the Society and follow Henry around but make sure he doesn’t see him. He will be parkour over the ceiling beams and all the Lodgers will notice and get extremely paranoid, trying to get Henry to notice it too because clearly something is up, Henry will completely ignore him most of the time.

Jacob rarely sleeps because his work as an assassin rarely allows him to, but once he and Henry starts dating he always makes sure to visit Henry during the night (or have Henry come to the train) so that they can cuddle and sleep together, knowing Henry won’t sleep by himself.

Henry is always the tiny spoon. Always. Jacob loves to hold him. Henry is always cold and Jacob is always warm so for Henry it’s like being wrapped in a blanket and for Jacob it’s like having an ice cube chilling down his overheated body.

Henry gets overwhelmed quite easily, both in general and with their actual relationship. As dramatic and clingy Jacob can be at times, he always gives Henry the space he needs and especially in the beginning, when everything was so new and Henry had to take his time to process everything. Jacob is always patient with him.

Henry likes to create stuff for Jacob. It can be everything from new poisons to new gadgets, to something as simple as a painting or a hand-made sweater he did himself. When the gifts became more... Simple, so to speak, he worried that Jacob wouldn’t like them, but Jacob absolutely loves and treasures anything Henry does for him, although he routinely gives the sweaters and clothing back so Henry can wear them, and so Jacob can get them back and it smells like his boyfriend <3

(Evie always finds Jacob cuddled up with the sweater in the mornings when they can’t be together. She thinks that it’s stupidly adorable).

Jacob stays in London after Evie and Green get married and move to India. He would originally have thought of leaving London to return to the Assassin Order in Crawley, but ultimately decided to stay with his lover in London. After the end events of TGS, the two of them buy a horse ranch out in the countryside where they retire. Jacob occasionally returns to London as the leader of the Rooks, and soon they begin on working to expand the gang to other cities. Henry doesn’t normally return to London, but always eagerly awaits his husbands return. By the time they have retired and moved, Clara goes to University in London, but she always makes sure to visit her dads inbetween her semesters.

They get to die a peaceful death after having lived a long and fulfilling life. Henry died first, his body having gotten weaker after many years of HJ7, and Jacob died only a few days afterward. Clara made sure they got buried in the same grave, and their little farmhouse and their belongings (and their story) has been passed down from generations ever since. 

Lydia, Jacob’s canonical granddaughter that lives through ww1, is instead Greenie’s and Evie’s grandchild for this au/ship.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

I just need anything with the mercs and bugs. Like just arthropods in general. Please just the boys and some bugs, please 🥺

Mercs & Creepy Crawlies

Headcanons

Medic:

“Bug? Vhere?”

He is interested in all living creatures, so of course he would have no qualms with insects. Of course, he would prefer mammals, but whatever.

His favorite to study? Cockroaches!

He likes to use them as mini-science projects. When he gets bored or burnt out, he usually takes to the “Roach-Mobile,” using electronic signals to move the cockroach every which way.

He’s also a big fan of scorpions, millipedes, and the occasional revived fossil.

It’s one of the few things he likes about living in the desert.

Lately, though, since he’s become more and more exhausted, he usually hangs out in his butterfly room. That always seems to relax him.

Heavy:

Heavy usually doesn’t notice insects unless there’s a scorpion in his boot or a fly on his sandwich.

However, he unfortunately has a very rare allergy to ladybugs.

It usually doesn’t flare up unless they go to a campground or a park where there are a lot of ladybugs.

He sneezes something awful.

And when Heavy sneezes, you definitely notice.

It hasn’t gotten very bad over the years, especially because of the arid air around the base.

But one time they had a ladybug infestation after a shipment for Medic went wrong. Until Engineer exterminated them, Heavy was sick as a dog. He even swelled up a bit and ran a low-grade fever.

“Lady is little, but make big man feel sick...”

Any occasional ladybug in the base is practically killed on sight.

Demo:

Since he lived in Scotland, the only bug he is familiar with are worms, so he doesn’t really have much to say about the others.

Except, of course, leeches.

He is deathly afraid of them.

When he was young, he was attacked by a leech swarm in a lake, and he lost a lot of blood. He even had to go to the hospital.

Ever since then, he gets sick even looking at a leech.

Medic is thrilled. He has a nice, healthy, slightly obsessive interest in phobias.

The doctor likes to tease him whenever possible, and will always offer leeches as an option when Demo gets injured.

One time, he even held up one for Demo to see.

Demo proceeded to scream, throw a grenade in Medic’s direction, and run like the devil in the opposite direction. He didn’t even take out the pin, just threw the whole, inactivated explosive.

Medic laughed and put it back in the tank, but hasn’t done it since...he already spends enough on the lab as it is.

Soldier:

He has and takes care of a pet scorpion in his Sniper Square.

Their name is Roman.

They literally have a bow on their tail made out of an old t-shirt.

Soldier feeds Roman insects, small frogs, and other meaty things - he even gave them beef jerky once.

He is pretty much immune to scorpion poison because Roman has stung him so many times.

Other than that, Soldier is pretty chill with every other bug.

Sometimes he’ll just be at the table.

Playing with a brown recluse.

Or even a black widow.

Like man, do you have any self-preservation instincts?

Sniper:

Bugs make his job a lot harder, especially centipedes and Soldier’s pet scorpion.

Sniper’ll be aiming for a shot, then he’ll feel a bunch of legs crawling on him.

Sometimes it’s sweat.

Sometimes bug.

He thinks dragonflies are pretty cool, though.

If one lands on the muzzle of his gun, he won’t take the shot. He considers it bad luck to startle a dragonfly.

Sniper isn’t afraid of any insects - I mean, come on, he lived in Australia - but he doesn’t like most of them because of how small, quick, and usually poisonous they are.

Just dragonflies.

In fact, he secretly likes collecting dragonfly stuff along with apricot stuff.

Pyro once got him a scented sticker with a dragonfly on a peach for Smissmas, and he almost went insane over it. He has stuck it on the wall of the Sniper Square, right next to the slit he shoots out of.

Pyro:

There aren’t many day bugs that Pyro likes.

Miss Pauling doesn’t them keep any, so what’s even the point?

However, fireflies are a different story.

Pyro catches massive amounts of them every night and uses them as a night light until morning.

Engie is in the process of making small “fire-bots” so that the firefly population doesn’t go extinct.

The only other bug Pyro is interested in is butterflies. He spends a lot of time in Medic’s butterfly room as a result.

His favorite is watching them come out of their chrysalis. He’ll just sit in the butterfly nursery and stare at them at they come out.

Pyro is very gentle with them, so Medic trusts her to go fetch all the new butterflies and set them free.

It’s their favorite job ever.

Engineer:

GRASSHOPPERS!

No, I’m serious, he is obsessed with grasshoppers.

When he is feeling burnt out, he can and will build as many tiny, robotic grasshoppers as necessary to feel better.

Sometimes he sets them loose and watches them hop around.

Any merc can walk in and see Engineer cross-legged on the floor, staring at an endless sea of robo-hoppers.

“Should I come back later?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about making robo-birds to catch them, but then thought about how he’d have to make robo-cats to catch the birds, and robo-dogs to catch the cats...he got so overwhelmed that he just put the grasshoppers away and took a well-deserved nap.

Scout:

Messes around with pretty much anything that isn’t poisonous

He was actually once dared to eat worms, succeeded, and then proceeded to eat a few worms whenever he could find them.

??????

Medic thinks it’s because of a vitamin deficiency, but no one really knows for sure.

Scout was also always covered in mosquito bites.

He refused to put on bug spray because of the smell and the fact he can’t stand still long enough for it to be applied.

Finally, out of sheer frustration of Scout’s whining about itching all the time, Engineer “came across” a dog tag necklace that suddenly took care of the bug problem.

Scout wore it proudly, and he hasn’t had a bug bite since.

Medic owes Engineer several favors for that one.

Spy:

He will not tolerate bugs.

He doesn’t like cockroaches, flies, scorpions, ladybugs, butterflies, or mosquitos.

But Spy has a special burning passion for spiders.

He will not visibly freak out, of course - he has too much pride for that.

However, he will take the magazine from under his arm and slam it down on the spider, instantly killing it.

He cracked a wooden table after seeing a black widow.

Medic has tried exposure therapy, but Spy has managed to kill every single one of his specimens.

But hey, it’s free pest control, so no one else is complaining.

I wonder if I should add Ms. Pauling in the future...what do you guys think?

@leepogo

[kats-kradle]

Hi hello yes I actually found your blog while I was looking for Ronon Dex whump, something there is not nearly enough of, and I just wanted to say that should you ever want to share your thoughts about him, whump-related or otherwise, I'm around to hear them,,, I care him very much (which is why I like to see him hurt... funny how that works).

OHOHOHOHOHO DID SOMEONE SAY THE MAGIC WORDS “RONON WHUMP”????? And yes there is not NEARLY enough Ronon whump!!! Buckle up I don’t think you know what you’ve unleashed by offering to let me talk about this XD i have 43 (i counted thats not an exaggeration) unfinished fics where i whump this man so i have A Lot of Thoughts on this so i’ll try to keep my headcanons and general thoughts from getting mixed up so here we go (also I haven’t actually seen past season 3ish but I know like everything)

Just general thoughts

I just love the team dynamic in general the actors had great chemistry with each other

They don’t whump Ronon enough and that is A Crime.    

But when they do whump him OH BOY ITS GOOD

Just off the top of my head I can think of     the episode where John and Elizabeth were possessed by those people who     wanted to kill each other and ronon got SHOT that was dope especially when     it showed the surgery but I was so mad there was no aftercare

Also just the fact that after Ronon was shot the guy possessing John said (about John) something like “if only you could hear him right now he is screaming so loud” or something to that effect and I’m not really a John whumper but oh boy the thought of John fighting as hard as he could to try and get control back because he wants to help Ronon rlly adds to the experience

After atlantis flies and John is going around checking the damage and he finds Ronon with the shard of glass in his shoulder juts the way he kneels down next to him is so soft and his voice goes soft too its great

I haven’t gotten there yet but ohoho the enzyme episode where Ronon gets drugged and then has to go through withdrawal ohooho I may have watched that scene a few hundred times

I just love also how fiercely loyal Ronon is and how much he trusts them

That ep where those villagers were going to give them to the wraith and Ronon literally would rather die than let his friends be taken to the wraith I love how John and Teyla go through like  45 heart attacks that’s one of the ones I haven’t gotten to yet but ive  seen gifs and oh boy oh boy does it look good

The way I generally describe Ronon is he’s     like a bug fluffy dog. Like he’s kind of silly sometimes and he’s very     loyal and will kill without hesitation if it means keeping his friends     safe

Also just that whole scene when Ronon arrives     when John is asking Elizabeth if he can stay is just like a kid asking his     mom if he can keep a dog he found

And Ronon has such a sweet smile also I love it when hes happy (but also I love it when hes in pain)

Stargate Atlantis was very well directed because for most definitions of “good acting” you can see “oh this character is sad. Now they are happy” which I do understand that many people prefer  this because they have difficulty interpreting facial expressions but I absolutely adore how subtly expressive the actors are because to me it’s fascinating to decode what the character is feeling. They act like real people and talk in the way real people would and it seems super natural and not scripted, and you can just tell in their interactions that the characters care for each other a lot and its beautiful

Now that I’ve said something vaguely scholarly-like its time to move on to the mess of headcanons

Headcanons

So when rewatching season 2 with my sister I realized the amazing potential for angst involving Kell (his old commander who he killed) so in my mind even though he’s very loyal to John at first it was more of a “you saved my life now I’ll watch your back because I owe you” and he had difficulty trusting any of them but especially John this changes over time ofc but he can’t help being wary of command 

I also hc that Kell  would punish the soldiers in his division for being “unfit” for battle so like if they broke a leg or something they would be punished  (this is mostly just for my guilty pleasure of ANGST) so that way they     would “be more aware” of their surroundings and whatnot 

Also disobey direct  orders was a big no no and you know how laid back John usually is with  orders so the first time Teyla disobeyed a direct order after Ronon joined the team John was grumbling about it in a way Teyla knew wasn’t serious but Ronon just kind of panicked and started lying his ass off and saying he threatened her into doing it and he should take the punishment which led to an awkward conversation (awkward for Ronon, it left his teammates ready for some murdering)

He hides injuries  because he was alone for so long and never had anyone to take care of him so he just forgets that he has to mention it and in his mind some injuries might not be that bad 

Beckett is constantly  chasing him around after missions desperately trying to get him to hold  still for long enough to do a check

Ronon hates pain medicine because it tends to dull his senses so in his mind all the more  reason to avoid Beckett

He is really good friends with Beckett but just not when he’s hurt

Usually he wanders into the medbay after bad nightmares if Beckett is on night shift and will just sit there

One time he hesitantly asked if Beckett could check to make sure that the tracker was actually gone for good

Ronon was expecting to get laughed at but Beckett took the request with the upmost seriousness and ran all the tests he could think of to calm Ronon’s fear

One time Ronon stumbled into the medbay and he obviously hadn’t slept in a while and was flinching at every noise so Beckett made up an excuse to “take some blood to test and see if it would be compatible with vaccines for the common sicknesses  humans get” and just like. Sedated him. Ronon felt betrayed at first but quickly realized that Beckett only did it because he cared about him and wasworried. He did try to get more sleep after that tho

Oh and you can bet Beckett goes off at him if he ever ends up in the medbay which he does to everyone but  especially Ronon because usually he’s either dragged there or he’ll come  in like “yeah so three days ago for the last mission I got hit in the side and now I’m coughing up blood so…” and then will just like pass out

While he was a runner he trained himself to be a light sleeper so adjusting to Atlantis was difficult because the ocean would wake him up every night at first

Also thunderstorms are The Worst to him because 1. It gives him PTSD for when he was a soldier and the wraith were attacking and 2. When he was a runner thunderstorms were almost a death sentence because the wraith could track him but he couldn’t hide he couldn’t hear and he couldn’t see so yeah thunderstorms are real bad for him

He has a constant fear of leading the Wraith to his new home and his new family oh also I decided that he doesn’t know if his mother died or not so every place they go he’s hopeful he’ll see her

This is a hc I had before I knew it was basically canon but he and the team hang out in the cafeteria a lot especially after nightmares they just all gravitate there

Also I haven’t gotten here yet so I’m just going off of what I know but he kind of tried to leave after Beckett died because he managed to find a way to blame himself also one of my hcs is that Beckett would tell him  about Scotland all the time and had decided that if they ever got the opportunity to go to Earth then Ronon was coming to Scotland with him sooo     ehehhe the angst of Ronon going to earth for Beckett’s funeral and going     to Scotland with Beckett but not in the way either of them wanted

On to softer hcs just cuz

He loves hugs. 7 years of being alone would  make anyone want a hug.

Children gravitate to him for some reason. Logically it doesn’t make sense because he’s so big and a bit intimidating but children just adore him

He carries extra snacks for Rodney

He can’t swim. Somehow he went his entire life without knowing how to swim which Rodney is astounded by and goes on about it for a minute or so

John took it upon himself to give him swimming lessons. John was a terrible teacher but Ronon managed to get the idea

He loves cocoa, specifically loaded with marshmallows. Teyla jokes he likes the marshmallows more than the cocoa

Wow this has gone on so much longer than I thought it would

So that’s it! you unleashed the beast. I now demand to hear your thoughts on ronon because boy oh boy hes a great whumpee and im not sure ive met many if anyone who likes to whumpe him so im super excited!!

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 1

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1900

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It has been a long time coming, you haven’t been on a real vacation since you graduated high school. You joined the Marines immediately, went into training and university. With you, it was always work, work, work. For you, it made sense since your brother was a Navy Seal and you both didn’t really have family. And you didn’t stay anywhere long enough to make super close friends to vacation with. But this trip, this was for you and only you.

               You got your degrees in psychology, battle strategies, and world cultures, but your true love was literature. You made it this far living a pretty isolated life because of your brother and your books. You generally just loved to read, so after leaving the Marines, before you started to find your new pathway you said you were going to take this vacation around Europe stopping in different places described or lived in by some of your favorite authors. Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Sir Doyle, Thomas Malory, etc. And it’s been amazing seeing all these places that inspired your idols, imagining how your favorite fictional characters lived.

               And here, alas you were in Scotland. Not necessarily because one of your favorite fictional characters lived here or your favorite author grew up near here, but because of your brother.  He wanted you to explore where you both came from, he felt it would help understand life before you both lost your parents. Plus, he was a huge history buff – it was his hobby outside the Seals.

               He told you all about the battles and culture amongst the decades before us. He told you about our Irish and Scottish ancestors. He’d tell you, you can’t have a name like Y/N O’Mulligain and not think of the Irish.

               There was this nearby village you were passing through. An author named Diana Gabaldon wrote a romance novel based on this rock formation. Your old college roommate wrote a thesis paper about historically accurate romance novels and pop culture. You thought, what the hell, since your here minus well check it out.

               It was strange at first, wondering through this supposed magical place. People clearly flocked here for Outlander’s popularity. You more enjoyed watching the people. You sat against a tree, pulled out a sandwich from your bag, and watched the middle age woman touch these rocks like they were the rock hard abs of a character from Outlander. It was quite amusing. You liked to think your mother would be doing the same thing if she were still alive.

               “You must not be a fan, girly,” you look up to an older woman, clearly Scottish from her accent.

               Shaking your head, standing up to shake her hand, “Is it that obvious,” you laugh, “I’m Y/N. Just a tourist, watching other tourist. That obvious hugh?”

               “Mary, deary,” she grinned answering you with her name while look up at you. You were about five three, but this woman had to be four feet something tall because she was tiny, “Just by the way you’re gazing all around, a girl looking for her own adventure, not through someone else’s eyes or story, but of your own.”

               “You get all that from just looking at me,” you laughed, looking at her curiously. You loved people like this, authentic and wily – it was usually the case with old people.

               “It’s the glimmer in your eye,” she gripped your chin softly, shaking it.

               You laughed, smiling down at her, “May I ask you a question? Do you believe the tales of this place? I know the Scottish culture has a lot of tall tales and superstitions, but a story like that?”

               “Aaa,” she nodded her head, “A skeptic,” she nodded, “These people wandering about, they don’t really believe in the tale. But I believe in the magic of this place, it just doesn’t work from anyone. It’s for the special.”

               Watching her with amusement and skepticism, you laugh nodding your head, “I hope I didn’t offend you with my question.”

               “No, of course not dear – though I believe in the magic of this place. I mostly come to watch these woman fawning over these rocks. I like to bet on which woman will kiss one of those moldy old things.” You laughed so loud, she grinned up at you, “I am about to go home to my hunny Wallace, but you stay here for me? Those three woman over there,” you looked in the direction she was pointing, “I believe they are each going to lick one of these things.”

               Laughing again, you nodded, “I’ll keep a close eye on them. It was an absolute pleasure, ma’am,” she gripped your hand tightly for a second before releasing.

               You sat back, glancing at those women laughing, “And dear,” you look back up to her, “Most people will be leaving to their beds or finding a pub, but you should stay. While the sun is setting – this place will give you the most magical sights.”

               She truly intrigued you, “Of course ma’am, thank you again.”

               “Enjoy your adventure lass,” she grinned once more, walking off down the path.

                 She was right, people started to trickle out. Husbands getting annoyed or bored, ladies feeling exhausted, or people just fearsome of loss of light – they just left group by group. You were left alone eventually, starring at the sun sinking into the horizon. She was right again, Scotland was magical with sights. You took a mental picture of this moment – the smooth silence, the color the sky made, and just being one with this experience. Your life was never slow, silent, or peaceful. You had always lived in the rush of things. But here, you sat taking in this moment. You felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

               The sun eventually went down and you were met with near darkness – which exception of the full moon. You collected your things and got ready to leave. And it dawned on you – you came all this way and have never even touched these rocks. The book aside, these rocks have had legends and tales for centuries. You should respect the stories and culture. With one touch, maybe you’ll feel the stories, tales, and people that touched it before you.

               It felt odd to reach out and touch the stone. It was cool and surprising smooth. You laughed at the thought of all the tongues that touched this exact spot. And with a single breathe, everything grew black and all the air punched out of you.

               Next thing you felt was the slam of the ground and your oxygen returning to your lungs. The sun from the tree burned your eyes. And you heard it, gun shots. You thought you were having another Post-Traumatic Stress attack, but the second bang brought you to reality. And you started to run, your bag still on your back, darting through the trees. You heard shouts, but you were not taking the chance. Being in the military, you didn’t stand still to figure it out.

               Someone gripped your arm as you ran past them, pointing a sword right in your face, “Are you for real,” I yell at them.  

He had a musket pointing directly in your face. You stopped breathing; he was dressed like a 18th century soldier. Thoughts sped in your mind, could this be a reenactment? Could this be a sick joke? The bullet sounds shook you out of your thoughts, the man was about to speak. You grabbed his musket, yanking it towards your body. The gun went off as his head smashed into yours. He groaned, tripping backwards, and smashing against a tree. The light from the headbutt blasted on in your head.

The light started to blind through, and the forest became vivid again. The sound of bullet fire caused you jump out of it and look at the man unconscious before you. You had to be dreaming, everything was so real. The sound, the smell, the world around you. Where and when were you exactly? You got drug out of your thoughts as a bullet graved your arm. You gasped in pain and your body took flight again. On the run again, you slide down an embankment, meeting eye to eye with another redcoat.

               You gasped, “Holy hell,” you whispered looking at the man, “Forgive me,” you said out loud, as the man watched you, straightening up. You saw his insignia, “Captain?”

               “Jonathan Randall, Esquire – Eighth Dragoon of your majesty’s army, mistress,” he answered.

               Something inside you reminisced, that name was familiar. Watching him closely, as he made his micromovements - he was also watching you, like some predator to prey, “I seem to be in the wrong time, wrong place,” you awkwardly laughed.

               “It does seem that,” he paused to see if you’d introduce yourself.

               “I had someone taking me to some distant family and they tried to attack and rob me,” you tried to play the damsel in distress, “My brother always told me I was too trusting.”

               “Yes mistress, women are naïve sheep,” he tiptoed towards you, his hand resting on his sword, “Your accent,” he nodded towards you. You slowly started taking steps back, “I’m unfamiliar with it.”

               He didn’t believe you, clearly you were off your game. Maybe it’s because the blast you took a few minutes ago getting you to this point. It could be the fact that this was surreal, “I’m grew up in the colonies,” you shrugged it off, you could only imagine how far away your accent was to actually existing, “But my brother sent me to our parent’s home country after their passing.”

               You forgot the first rule of lying, keep it short with no unneeded details. His uniform was familiar, the military and your brother trained you well. You had inclined the year and it was clear the woods of Scotland were not safe with the Redcoats. This man was an enemy, not a gentleman of the era you’ve heard and learned so much about. You had to get away, find safety, and figure out what exactly is going on.

               You knew self-defense, hell you were trained well at the art of combat, but this man had weapons and the only thing you had was a backpack and no adequate footwear for a run in the woods, “You don’t dress like a lady,” he motioned towards your clothes. You stop breathing at this, “In fact, only traitorous women wear clothes such as this,” your back was against the hill behind you. His breath was on you. He gripped your neck tightly, “There is only one way to deal with a woman like yourself,” he went for his buckle.

               Your brother drilled into you about protection during moments like this. He trained you on what to do, it was natural. Headbutt to the nose, hike up of the knee, a tool – in your case a rock – to the head. And soon you were breathing heavily and looking at the Captain unconscious on the ground.

               The sound of the Redcoats was not far off, “Druid,” you heard. You were surprised that someone could sneak so close and not make any noise. This Scottish looking fellow reached out his hands, “Come now,” he said. Your only instinct was to take it for now. This man pulled you behind a tree.

               “What year is it,” you whispered to him.

               “1743,” he mumbled, trying to shush me, taking the time to give you a questionable look.

               “Pinch me,” you were hoping this to be a dream. It was a final test of your predicament. He looked at you strangely before helping with your request. He did, and you felt it and suddenly everything went black.

PART 2

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Into the Unknown (The Big, Big Bang; Part 1.)

Series summary: Sometimes, you might feel lonely in the entirety of the universe; of all of the stars, planets and constellations... Until it comes. The big bang that turns the world upside down, the reason why all the stars collide and why you, in the first place, are alive.

Part summary: Remus wasn’t as social as you’d maybe assume when you’d got to know him. Yet althrough his personal struggles, for some reason, Dumbledore had chosen him as his new DADA teacher.

A/N: Okay, this is more or less the first, informative, get-into-the-story chapter and there’s not much happening at the moment. I swear, we will pump it up, just give it at least two parts. 

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad​

Series playlist: H E R E

Series masterlist: H E R E 

If you'd ever put a piece of parchment, inkwell and a goose quill and asked Remus John Lupin do describe himself with a few sentences, the parchment would be empty for a few minutes before he'd settle on one small word: a loner. He was alone for quite a time, he wasn't too attracted by the idea of a human accompany; after everything that happened with Sirius, James and Peter, he wasn't quite sure if he would be able to connect with a someone new at the time of speaking. The second word he'd most probably used would be ill - then, he would cross the word and write 'seriously ill' instead.

There wasn't a lot of people who knew what Lupin was going through or what kind of illness he was diagnosed with thanks to hiding away at the edge of every thinkable society; his bad state was visible just from looking at him. His skin was dry and almost transparent almost all the time and when his illness was getting the best of him, he even appeared lightly green. His hair was slowly thinning out as he grew older, but it still wasn't as bad as it could be. The only thing that remained the same over the last few decades were his eyes.

The last sentence he would write would most likely say 'down to earth'. It was a rather generous name for not having much money, always looking shabby and, as some wizards or witches would say, second-like hand. Not that Lupin would be proud of what he was looking like, but there weren't many things he could with it - wizards with his sort of 'illness' rarely got a good job proposition if they ever ended up having one.

For everything that was stated above and far more, it was a miracle when he got approached with a job offers from one of the most well-respected, smartest and brilliant wizard of all time, Album Dumbledore himself. The old man found him hidden away in Yorkshire, living in one tumbledown, semi-derelict cottage at the line of poverty itself. Remus felt like he didn't have the right to complain; he was a damn werewolf. And thanks to the small reminder spoiling his whole face, everyone who could order him something to do for a living knew about this aspect of his life way sooner than Remus would've liked them to.

The night Dumbledore had walked into his humble home, he barely got one shirt that held together without patches; most of his clothes was patched up already - all of his trousers and coats surely. At first, he vehemently dismissed Dumbledore's wish for Lupin working at his school as a DADA teacher. What Dumbledore was suggesting was pure madness. Remus always thought he's a calm and tolerable man - yet when Albus told him everything that he was asking of him, Remus almost lost it.

Yes, of course - there were the mad werewolves like Fenrir Greyback who hunt children down just for sport and making sure that more and more people would be carrying this sick curse. Lupin hated these sons of bitches the most. He himself was one of their victims in the end. And Albus Dumbledore, the most brilliant man Lupin had ever met, one of the few that Lupin had real respect for was asking him to be a teacher at the biggest wizarding school in all of England, Ireland and Scotland? No. That was an offer that couldn't be accepted, that was pure madness. He would never willingly get near such a cluster of young people who were full of dreams and had their lives ahead of themselves. What would happen if he would lose control? How many people would get hurt because of one slip? Did Dumbledore realize how many things he was betting by asking Remus such thing?

But to Remus' surprise, Albus smiled dismissively and stood up from his half-broken-down sofa. With a serious face, Dumbledore had told him that now, he had a professor who could brew the perfect Wolfsbane potion every month and according to Albus, this said the professor was a potions master and genius. However, if Lupin wouldn't trust himself as much to spend the night of wolfing out inside the Forbidden Forest, there still was the Shrieking shack, just like Remus used to remember it. As a small topic for consideration, Albus left there a small bag with thirty Galleons laying on the coffee table, so Lupin could at least buy himself the most basic needs - whether he would take the job offer or not, the money was his to use, to keep or to give to someone else.

After that, Albus left the cottage. He knew what he was doing and what Remus is capable of. When Albus was leaving, he was smiling and humming a jolly song; he knew very well that he's leaving Remus with his thoughts alone and he knew very well that this lycanthropic wizard had one of the biggest potentials for teaching Albus had ever encountered.

Everything got sealed on one dark August night. It was mostly the idea of him and Black meeting that made Remus send an express letter to Hogwarts. Sirius Black, the insane wizard that had murdered twelve muggles and his very own best friend, had escaped from Azkaban. Anyone could tell how he had done it, anyone knew where he was and what was he planning to do. Yet Remus had the feeling he should be counting on Sirius visiting him; in the end, Black already murdered one of their small group of friends and helped with murdering the second one... Remus had the feeling that Black might be wanting to finish what had happened in 1981 and for that, he accepted Dumbeldore's proposition. He was to be one of the Hogwarts teachers.

During the rest of the summer and hiding away, Lupin started to study the materials for each year he was to teach; back in his school days, he was one of the greatest students Hogwarts had seen. There was rarely a test in which Lupin got worse than Exceeding Expectations. It was mostly caused by his natural interest in the art of wizardry and by Remus' gratefulness - Dumbeldore let him study like every other normal student and prevented him from hurting anyone else during the full moon. And DADA? Dear Merlin, he always had a deep appreciation for this class. One of his biggest DADA achievements was that he could cast the Patronus Charm without too much of a trouble. Also... The creatures were quite brilliant and before Lupin could comprehend, he was looking forward to sharing his knowledge with all of the young people in Hogwarts.

At the same time, he realized that he will be there. Son of James and Lily Potter. His name was Harry and he had last seen when he was smaller than Lupin's forearms. He was nothing more than a sweet, laughing boy covered in one big blanket. How old was he now? Twelve? Thirteen? Remus couldn't even count it down properly, he just knew that the boy's going to be there once be starts his teaching career.

As to be expected, the safety precautions around Hogwarts got more intense - Nd so did everywhere else. Lupin was especially aware of that once a Dementor harassing a black-hearted boy had woken him up. And to his realization, it was Harry Potter himself who got into trouble. The most logical thing that came to mind was to talk to the staff and to make sure there are no more dementors inside the train.

Yet once he made sure the train was safe, he couldn't bring himself to go back to the coupe and rather stayed in the corridors on a watch, trying to ensure the safety inside the train. His mind, on the other hand, was racing - James' son, his murdered best friend's son, was inside and he looked just like James. Except for the eyes. Those were, without a doubt, Lily's. Lupin didn't expect such a low blow on his very first day. At that moment, he promised himself to be better. He promised himself that he'd teach the kids everything he knew; and he was particularly excellent in this subject, so the kids had.

The first days at school were... Good. Lupin wasn't particularly all over the place because he wasn't quite comfortable with the all-the-time type of company. The other teachers tried to talk to him, to make him feel good about himself and the purpose of his staying inside the school's walls and he didn't avoid the introduction where the whole Great hall had given him short applause.

McGonagall, who was sitting next to him, persisted on Remus calling her "Minerva" and every time he dared to call her Mrs professor, she gave him a furrowed look, correcting him in her straight-to-the-point type of voice. Madame Pomfrey was also fond of seeing him after such a long time in a pretty good shape and Hagrid tried his absolute best to behave; there was still quite a lot of memories inside other's minds that connected him with Sirius and Remus could understand the worried looks and careful words. Needless to say, the whole feast was delicious as it usually was in Hogwarts and after such a long and draining day, he was glad to walk the quiet and dark halls before he took off to his room, located close to the DADA schoolroom to have some proper and certainly refreshing sleep.

First classes after the feast in the Great hall were the worst for Remus. There were new faces to remember, a lot whole more of names and... At first, he was lost when it came to some of the students. The name of Justin Flinch-Fletchey didn't crawl into his brain until the end of the first week; however, there were people of whom he was very aware against his better judgement.

One of them was Harry and his two friends, Hermione and Ronald - no matter what they said or did, they always looked there are about to cause some mischief. This, of course, could be only a feeling inside of Lupin's guts; yet from other professors, he listened to the wild stories about the past two years; all of which had Potter himself in the centre. Another student he was keeping his eyes on was Neville Longbottom, the son of Alice and Frank. The fates of his parents were heartbreaking and growing up with his grandmother, who was a persistent and unpleasant woman at times, had to be hard for such a gentle soul. There were moments when Lupin could see glimpses of his own uncertainty and shyness in Neville's words. At last, there was a girl from Hufflepuff named Rosamunda who caught his eye simply because her mother was one of his former schoolmates.

Kids who caught his attention naturally without having some sorts of a past connection with him were Fred and George Weasley who were friends with Lee Jordan, another Griffindor student - they were quite a loud and jolly party who, when the topic was right, had a lot of questions and were very curious about the subject. On the other hand, when they didn't have one of those days, they could be annoying, to say the least. Another girl, Heather from Ravenclaw, had caught his eye simply because of her unusually deep interest in DADA. There were no students who would give him any sorts of trouble, which was also a win. As Lupin got a hold on his classes step by step, it suddenly didn't seem to be so out worldly that he'd have the potential to be a teacher - and a good one.

Sure, there were concerns expressed by others member of the staff, especially by Snape, that were regarding his lycanthropy. Yet as Dumbledore had sworn to him, everyone was doing their best when it came to that - madame Pomfrey made sure that the Shrieking shack is at the disposal all the time, Snape was brewing the potions even though his mostly anti-Lupin agenda and Dumbledore himself sworn to him that if there would be a situation in which a student was to be harmed, he himself would prevent that.

Everything seemed to be falling in its place.

It was the break between the noon and afternoon classes in which Lupin was to assigned to have a patrol on the small courtyard opposite the Great hall where some students took their lunches so they could spend some time out in the open before the weather gets bad. And the occupation of the courtyard was quite big - some students were just taking a short break and played Exploding snap throughout, the Weasley twins were throwing some kind of small, non-burning fireworks at each other and there were even people who simply chatted the whole period away. Lupin himself was quietly standing in one of the corners, leaning into a wall dressed in one of his shabby sweaters and ate an apple while overseeing the whole situation.

There was a moment where he didn't notice it at all - someone had crashed into a group of three students, taking two of them down onto the ground. It was hard to see what was happening there since there was quite a lot of people in the way. The only thing he could see were people picking off the ground as another person was running off inside the castle. Honestly, he didn't know where to jump first - if he should go to help the students laying on the ground. - "I am so sorry! I will buy you a lollipop or something!" - The woman who jumped at them yelled over her shoulder and disappeared inside the castle. He could only see a grey sweater, long black pants and her hair flow in the wind as she ran for... For an unknown reason.

The only thing he had seen was her back, he could hear her yelling some nonsense at the students and even though, it knocked the apple out of his hand as he looked at her disappearing. There was something. Remus couldn't exactly name it, but there was some energy about her. Yet in the end, he walked to the group to check on them, letting the woman disappear inside.

[shalebridge-cradle]

Historical References in What Are You Going to Do With Your Life - Chapters 10-12

Chapter 10

Boleyn mumbles something about a priest. W. S. Pakenham-Walsh (1868 - 1960), Vicar of Sulgrave, Northhamptonshire, had a strong interest in Anne Boleyn. He claimed to have a series of spiritual experiences after praying at Boleyn’s burial site, and contacted clairvoyants to channel her spirit in the hopes she might become his guardian angel. He also claimed in his diary that he had contact with Henry VIII and other notable members of the Tudor court.

While witchcraft was often punished via the death penalty, Henry VIII made the law explicit in 1542 (though it was later repealed no later than 1547, under Edward VI). Several witchcraft laws were made in the UK over the years, in 1563, 1604, 1649 and 1735. These were all repealed and replaced with more general consumer protection laws, and the last person to be indicted for witchcraft (under the 1735 act) was imprisoned in 1944.

Tarot was a regular set of cards for most of its history, used in various, but similar, trick-taking card card games. It became associated with ancient wisdom in 1781, when Antoine Court de Gébelin wrote an essay claiming (with no evidence) that ancient Egyptian priests had distilled the mystical Book of Thoth into the cards.

“Psychic is Greek, and clairvoyant is French. One is about thinking, and the other is about seeing.” Psychic comes from the Greek word psychikos (‘of the mind’) and clairvoyance is a combination of two French words (‘clear’ and ‘vision’). Catherine of Aragon was known to speak both French and Greek, as well as Latin, her native Spanish, and English.

Cunning man (or woman) was another word for folk healers.

In 1532, Catherine Parr’s brother-in-law from her second marriage, William Neville, was accused of treason for allegedly predicting the king’s death and his own ascension as Earl of Warwick (a title made extinct during the Wars of the Roses, but would be recreated in 1547 and twice after that). He went to at least three magicians to confirm this prediction, all of which agreed that it was meant to be true (it wasn’t). One of these magicians was Richard Jones of Oxford, who was imprisoned and questioned on the matter. He did his best to exonerate himself of responsibility. I have found five references confirming his existence – but many of them claim he had a sceptre he used to ‘summon the four king devils’, which he used for divination purposes.

Chapter 11

Jones of Oxford was taken in for questioning as part of the Neville affair, and he did his best in his confession to exonerate himself. Neville’s claims of a prophetic dream showing himself as Earl of Warwick were now a “fair castle” which Neville assumed must be the castle of Warwick, and a shield with “sundry arms I could not rehearse”. He did admit to writing “a foolish letter or two according to [Neville’s] foolish desire, to make pastime to laugh at”. No treason, just jokes, please don’t execute me Thomas Cromwell. Jones claimed to take his alchemy seriously, however, and wrote that “To make the philosopher’s stone I will jeopard my life, so to do it,” if the king so wished. He would require twelve months “upon silver” and twelve and a half “upon gold”, and was willing to be imprisoned while he worked. Jones made a similar offer to Cromwell, but there is no evidence either man accepted. Jones was released in exchange for revealing incriminating evidence against another figure of interest. The other magicians caught up in this incident, William Wade and a man known only as ‘Nashe’, had perfected their disappearing act and were not sent to the Tower.

There is a story that Elizabeth I attributed the destruction of the Spanish armada in 1588 to John Dee’s wizardry. Given that, as mentioned, Dee was out of favour with Elizabeth at the time, this is likely untrue.

Elizabeth I’s death was in March of 1603, after she became sick and remained in a “settled and unmovable melancholy”, sitting on a cushion and staring at nothing. The death of a close friend in February of that year came as a particular blow – that of her second cousin and First Lady of the Bedchamber, Catherine Howard.

James I (or James VI, depending on where you’re from)… James I of England was also James VI of Scotland. His mother was Mary Queen of Scots, who was executed by Elizabeth I, and his great-grandmother was Margaret Tudor, Henry VIII’s sister.

“Anna, born Duchess of Jülich, Cleves and Berg.” This was how Anna signed hers’ and Henry’s marriage treaty, known as the ‘Beer Pot Documents’, because someone drew a stein at the bottom.

Bowling, as a game, can trace its origins back to ancient Egypt, and has been quite popular the world over throughout history. Henry VIII was an avid bowler himself (when Hampton Court was remodelled, bowling alleys were included with tennis courts and tiltyards), but banned the sport for the lower classes. The law against workers bowling (unless it was Christmas and in their master’s presence) was repealed in 1845.

We return to the ground, because from it we were taken. Paraphrasing of Genesis 3:19.

The (possible) first appearance of the word ‘alligator’ in the English language is from Romeo and Juliet. The description of The Apothecary’s shop mentions “a tortoise hung, an alligator stuff’d, and other skins of ill-shaped fishes”. Traditionally, medieval apothecaries and astrologers kept skeletons, fossils, and/or taxidermied pieces on display to demonstrate their worldliness.

The anger over calling the alligator ‘William’ could come from Parr, or from Anna. Her brother’s name, Wilhelm, is often anglicised as William.

Midsomer county does not exist and never has. It’s the setting for the long-running mystery TV show Midsomer Murders. Incidentally, Catherine Parr’s native county of Westmorland existed at one point, but no longer does (the area is now in the county of Cumbria). She is not the only English-born queen who this applies to; Jane Seymour’s Wiltshire and Anne Boleyn’s Norfolk still exist (and have since antiquity), but Katherine Howard was most likely born in Lambeth, which would have been in the county of Middlesex at the time. The area is now under the ceremonial county of Greater London.

“Honestly? Margaret Pole’s was worse.” Margaret Pole, Countess of Sailsbury and the last of the House of York, was kept in the Tower of London for two and a half years for her supposed support of Catholicism’s attempts to overthrow the king, before being informed of her death ‘within the hour’ on the 27th of May, 1541. She answered that she did not know the crime of which she was accused (and had carved a poem into the wall of her cell to that effect), but went to the block anyway. It allegedly took eleven blows from the inexperienced axeman to separate her head from her body. There is another story that she tried to run from the executioner and was killed in the attempt, but this is likely a fabrication. Regardless, pretty much everyone thought this was not only a bad idea on Henry’s part (killing Margaret removed any leverage the king had on her rebellious son, Cardinal Reginald Pole), it was also pointlessly cruel and a painfully undignified end.

(She was also Catherine of Aragon’s lady-in-waiting, and governess to Mary at several points.)

That everyone around her, bar a few visitors, would actively benefit from her death… Yet another quote of Elizabeth Tyrwhitt’s testimony: Parr, on her deathbed, claimed she was “not well-handled” by those around her; “for those that be about me careth not for me, but standeth laughing at my grief, and the more good I will to them, the less good they will to me”.

Chapter 12

According to a lady-in-waiting, Anne Boleyn claimed she would rather see Catherine of Aragon hanged “than have to confess that she was her queen and mistress”. This incident is probably the origin of the lyric “somebody hang you!” from Don’t Lose Ur Head.

Catalina uses a few Spanish phrases in this chapter, which don’t get directly translated. The first, No se hizo la miel para la boca del asno, directly translates to ‘Honey is not made for the donkey’s mouth’, and essentially means ‘Good things shouldn’t be wasted on those who won’t appreciate them’. Lavar cerdos con jabón es perder tiempo y jabón is ‘Washing pigs with soap is a waste of time and soap’, and is meant to indicate some things aren’t worth the energy.

…like that dream she has where she is cut up by a servant… An autopsy was done on Catherine of Aragon as part of the embalming process, which revealed the growth on her heart. This was done by the castle chandler (a dealer or trader) as part of his official duties.

Jane Seymour got rid of most of the hallmarks of Anne Boleyn’s tenure during her own queenship. The extravagance and lavish entertainments were banned, along with the French fashions Boleyn had introduced – including French hoods, which Boleyn is wearing in the portrait we have of her. Jane, as mentioned, wore a gable hood in her portraits.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised that people care about what I say.” In the words of nineteenth century proto-feminist Agnes Strickland, Jane “passed eighteen months of regal life without uttering a sentence significant enough to warrant preservation”, which is kind of a mean thing to say. Seymour certainly said things during this time, we know this from reports, but there aren’t any direct quotes from her during her time as queen.

Here’s the painting mentioned, from 1545, during Catherine Parr’s tenure. Jane is on Henry’s left.

It was only after her death that Henry ‘loved’ her, but she is certain that he mourned for only for his own loss. There are reports that, during Jane’s labour, doctors advised Henry he might lose either Jane or Edward. Henry is claimed to have replied, “If you cannot save both, at least let the child live, for other wives are easily found.”

Countdown is a British television game show that revolves around word and number puzzles. It has been going for almost forty years, and is one of the longest-running game shows in the world, with over 7000 episodes.

“I saw a ghost bear kill someone, once.” Anne isn’t making this up. Supposedly, the incident occurred in 1816, when a Yeoman Warder saw a ghostly bear somewhere in the Tower of London. Terrified, he tried to stab it with his bayonet, only for the weapon to go through the image and strike the door behind it. The guard died of shock later on. A similar event happened in 1864, where two guards witnessed “a whitish, female figure” gliding towards one of the soldiers. The soldier in question charged this figure, only to go straight through it, upon which he fainted.

Elizabeth was imprisoned in the Tower of London for a little over two months in 1554, as a result of Wyatt’s Rebellion against Queen Mary. The rebellion was also the likely reason for the execution of Lady Jane Grey – both she and Elizabeth were Protestants in line for the throne, and therefore ‘more suitable’ as ruler. Both Elizabeth and Jane Grey denied any involvement, but the latter’s father and brother (also executed) were direct contributors.

“… you did die, Elizabeth was really upset about it…” Elizabeth took the news of Parr’s death badly. She refused to leave her bed, and was unable to go a mile from her residence, for five months following Parr’s passing.

Not because she liked that bearded potato man, God no… I found this deeply cursed engraving (first produced in 1544) in one of my books on the six wives, and now I want you all to suffer with me.

Anne of Cleves reacted poorly to being told her marriage would be annulled – some accounts say she fainted, others says she cried and screamed. Both could be true. The reasons given were threefold – One, the marriage was unconsummated (From testimony given by two servants, Anne thought a kiss goodnight counted as consummation – likely untrue, but this is the only reason that actually has merit). Two, Anne was precontracted to Francis of Lorraine (Untrue – the betrothal would only take effect if Anne’s father paid the dowry, and he didn’t). Three, Anne was not a virgin as claimed, based on the description of her ‘breasts and belly’, a Tudor way of saying Anne had previously given birth (untrue, and conflicts with the testimony for reason one). The annulment went through without Anne’s involvement, but (probably looking at the examples of her three predecessors) she accepted the ruling and kept herself from being banished, beheaded or otherwise.

(Other fact that has no bearing on reality – while researching Anne of Cleves, one of the pages that came up was The Simpsons Wiki. Apparently she’s the only wife who can claim the honour of having been in two episodes. :/)

Dogs don’t need to answer for their sins, they don’t have any. Katherine Howard was reportedly fond of animals in general, but had a particular soft spot for dogs.

She did the right thing. She told the truth. She died for it. Katherine Howard insisted, to the end, that she had no pre-contract of marriage to Francis Dereham. Would she have survived if she said she did?