#anyway no i am from england although i have lived in ireland

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

you irish?

no i'm just drawn that way

[unhonestlymirror]

Lithuania: Oh, Giedrė would love this salad.

Czech: Who's Giedrė?

Lithuania: ...my 7th wife.

Czech:

Hungary: Your what

Germany: But I don't remember anyone from us having such a name?? Do we have a new state? I'm not teaching you, but don't you think it's a bit weird to marry a micronation for an old state like you?..

Lithuania: *sigh* She was mortal.

Everyone at the lunch table:

Ireland: Wait, wait, let me guess it - your 7th wife was mortal? Just like all the previous ones?

Lithuania:

Belgium: Jesus Christ.

Italy: Looks like someone forgot to tell him that having a relationship with mortals is a moveton in our little community...

Scotland: Lmao, I knew that guy never gave up on polygamy.

Lithuania, smiling with hidden irritation: I am sure we have more interesting topics to talk about than my 12 mortal wives, who were NOT married on me all at the same time, God rest their souls.

England: I agr-

France: NO, WE DON'T! I NEED to know everything about your 12 mortal wives, my dear Lituanie, right now!

Greece: Yeah, I'm also interested, like, dude, why did you decide that marrying mortals so many times is gonna be a good idea? At least you could have just making them your lovers, nothing more, why to put so much effort

France: You know that we can't have human children anyway :P

England: No one asked your opinion, orgies organizer

France: You're not a saint either, Mr. Le Bordel🖕🖕🖕

Lithuania: At first, I did that not out of romantic feelings and absolutely nor for sex. Poland had demanded that I must have married him in order to establish Commonwealth better. Although the pact was already legal, I wasn't ready for that, especially considering that the Catholic Church doesn't allow divorce... I didn't want to lose my independence completely, I didn't want to kill Poland to break the possible marriage because that would be really gross, considering that it was me who came to Poland first, I've lost Ruthenia and Smalensk by my own stupidity. Being on the peak of my power, I've fallen down like Lucifer. The day before, I was an empire, and the next day, I was nothing but a colony. I was miserable, and I had no right to complain. But one day, a woman approached me in a pub and asked me half-jokingly: "Doesn't your mother need a daughter-in-law?" And then it dawned on me. "Actually, she does," I answered. We got married the next day. The problem was delayed because, thankfully, Catholicism can't stand polygamy.

Lithuania: I can't say I've fallen in love with Milda at first sight, but she made my life less miserable.

Sweden: And she never questioned why her husband never got old?

Lithuania: Well, she never complained. 😆 As well as the others... *blushes a little*

Liechtenstein: I suppose it hurt when she died...

Lithuania: It always hurts when someone who lives in your heart dies. At least, she was gone with peace. I made sure she was buried properly.

Lithuania: That's when I've realised I didn't want to come to the empty house for eternity.

Lithuania: Later, I've usually tried to marry widows or single mothers: someone who was the outcast for society and who wasn't really able to protect themselves. I've thought it was not fair. After all, I can't just wander around like a ghost, if I am the personification of my people, at least I could have tried to make someone’s life a bit easier. To some extent, I perceived it as a sacrifice for Milda.

Japan: I'd say you have a fetish if only what you're telling didn't sound so sad.

Bulgaria: At least, the children could be proud of their vampire step-father! :D

Romania: Bulgaria, shut up. Just the mention of vampires makes me sick.

Finland: If you watched your wife dying every time, no wonder you seemed so depressed.🫂

Lithuania: 🫂

Lithuania: So I've come through the Commonwealth partition and russian empire, but the tradition remained.

Everyone: *silence, many have watery eyes*

France: 😭😭😭

England: You're the weirdest freak of Europe. After France. No offence.

France: Ugh, what can a cold-heart like you know about the pain of true love loss😭😤😡 This man's married 12 TIMES! TO MORTALS! You could never.

Lithuania: Well, sex was also nice.

Czech: Ew.

Greece: Now that's our guy🤌🤌🤌🤌

Latvia, completely unimpressed: Well, if to be accurate, 13 times if to count his marriage with his sister.

Lithuania: It was PURELY POLITICAL, SHORT-LASTING and it was A SHAM MARRIAGE, to receive funding from the Vatican and save our land from Teutonic Order invasions, you little shit💢 I've never felt anything more than platonic respect to her

France: I NEED DETAILS!!! :D

Bulgaria: A little bit of Monica in my liiife, a little bit of Erica by my siiiide

Latvia: A little bit of Rita's all I need, a little bit of Tina's what I see

Bulgaria: A little bit of Sandra in the sun, a little bit of Mary all night long

Latvia: A little bit of Jessica, here I am, a little bit of you

Together: makes me your man!!

Lithuania: I'm going home.

[uthseikoashx-inflamedme]

Summer of 1899 fanfictions: with Philosophy, ancient Greek and Latin, foreign languages and a bit of Literature

(note: by “Summer of 1899 fanfictions”, I refer to the summer of Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald’s meeting as teenagers)

(note: I am not a native speaker, so I apologise for the mistakes, inaccuracies, truly bad use of tenses and wrong phrases. I hope it won’t be too unpleasant. Let me know if something is really not understandable!)

What about philosphy, Latin, etc, but in 1899 fanfictions? (dark academia vibes, I know)

There are already quite a lot of fanfics about it but not enough - because it's so great, let me detail why it is (and expose my headcanons)

(the [1] and [2] are notes, check the end of the post to read them)

(tiny disclaimer: i am not at all an advanced scholar on any of the following topics, just studying that kind of subjects and loving to draw parallels with hp. i hope i won’t say too many wrong things, etc.)

Philosophy :

Moral philosophy

The theories and questions throughout the history of moral philosophy (as far as I know) fit so well with the concerns of our revolutionary boys.

Is there any moral duty? Knowing wizards and witches could solve an amount of muggles' problems, is this immoral for them to stay in the shadows? What about the means of the revolution - is this ok to kill for the Greater Good, to initiate injuries, doom and destruction to build a better world, which cost is acceptable? What about consequentialism, utilitarianism, moral of virtue, deontological philosophy, idk? What's good? What's fair?

More touchy question: the maj-people are able to perform marvellous things, so are they consequently more important than maj-people? Because of their capacities, should they be praised - considered as superior beings - as gods? But if yes, should they treat muggles differently than they would treat wizards? If wizards shouldn’t be considered as superior beings, are they equal to muggles anyway?

And what about the Hallows - is this moral to possess them, considering they mirror Gyges’ ring? Should Albus and Gellet keep them for themselves, use them for the Greater Good (yes they want to, it’s clearly exposed in DH)? Is the Quest important enough to justify sacrifices?

Also, what about Aristotle’s virtue system - being moderate and all, use our reason to be in the middle? Because I’m sure as hell Albus and even more Gellert would reject this idea: isn’t it a form of passivism? (no, but through their pov and situation, they might think that)

(by the way they both read passages of Bentham's and Mill's and Kant's and Plato's and Aristotle's books nobody can convince me otherwise)

(I never read Nietzsche’s extracts and haven’t even merely a define idea of his theories to be honest, except for a few uncertain glimpses of his philosophy - he disagrees with religious morality and is quite vehement about it, and praises an idea of a free human being, released from this moral of the weaks. And as far as I know, I’m pretty sure Gellert would agree with him.)

Political philosophy

I do have a headcanon: Albus and Gellert both read the Republic of Plato (initially because it’s well-known and they didn’t want to be ignorant about it and they surprised themselves being enthralled by Socrates reflexions) ; and quite a lot of their discussions about a perfect society instituted by themselves (and about what’s fair and what’s good) were underpinned by the book.

Is this ok to rule the world? Which system is the best - tyranny, democracy, oligarchy? Are the wizards just like the philosophers and, thus, are righteously meant to be the aristocrats at the top of the government? And are all the wizards as legitimate as Albus and Gellert to rule the world (no)? What’s the acceptable extent of power they should have on civilians? What’s the necessary authority they must be allowed to have on civilians? What about the freedom of the press, of speech (those themes are explored in the Republic and well-), of maj-people and non-maj-people?

Philosophy of desire, joy, pleasure, beauty, etc

Have you ever heard of Plato? (sorry, again, yes.) Well in several Socrates’ dialogs, themes of love and desire are developed (I particularly think about the Symposium) and Albus and Gellert could be convinced by it: the praise of relationships between men, of intellect, of beauty… but also by the myth of Aristophanes (people are halves and search their soulmate (more or less)). Besides, I’ll be quite curious about what Albus and Gellert may say about Alcibiades’ eulogy of Socrates and what they may think of their dynamics.

(long story short, Alcibiades is young and handsome and desires the ugly Socrates, is fascinated by his intellect and considers him as the most interessant man he knows, and can’t help but feeling inferior facing him and being deeply humiliated because Socrates rejects him (on top of that, Alcibiades is drunk and jealous - the parallels to draw between them and our revolutionary boys are bloody interesting but back to the point))

Also, I totally see Albus and Gellert as hedonists during their youth - justifying their immoral and unwise chase of pleasure and complaisance by an artificial sentiment of moderation, temperance, so not true hedonists, like they are not epicurean at all - and this is again something quite compelling, I must admit.

Ancient Greek and Latin :

Latin and ancient Greek at Hogwarts

Throughout the 19th century, the civilizations of antiquity increasingly fascinated the intellectuals - a phantasm around the topic grew and influenced artists and erudite persons, and was furthermore a mark of the cultural capital and level of education of somebody.

Although we haven’t any clue about the fact that Hogwarts changed the disciplines provided through the centuries, we know it is possible : Dumbledore himself almost dismissed divination studies and depending the demands of the students, 7th years can study alchemy (most likely thanks a teaching offered by Dumbledore himself).

And I do have the headcanon that Hogwarts was in the past not that far from studies dispensed in english colleges - or at least, proposed classes of British (magic) Literature, maybe Law (like an elitist subject but necessary to enter in the Ministry and consequently pure-blood kids are always following that course) and, of course, ancient Greek and Latin classes.

And it was necessary, because Latin is the language of spells and most of the magical essays written back in antiquity were in ancient Greek - furthermore, the more complex, ancient and ruthless spells and rituals were based on ancient Greek and not on Latin, more used in everyday, ordinary, common magic (it is again an hc).

(by the way, Arabic and Hebrew could be as well considered as ancient languages used in magic (again an headcanon, but it would underline how magic is complex and has multiple forms and is not just European-centred), but I have the slight feeling that the ideologies and culture of European countries combined with xenophobia and racism have excluded the study of those languages even though they are also vital in the history of magic you know)

Yes it’s based on nothing, but it would be so great and ask so many things about the Wizarding World back in the late 19th and early 20th century - especially about social and political struggle between the population - pure-blood families vs muggle born students, etc [1]. (And it would satisfy my dark academia aesthetic. But quite irrelevant here.)

What about Albus and Gellert then?

Durmstrang could also dispense Latin of Ancient Greek class, in my opinion, but I think (again, imo), it is a bit unlikely. But it does not change the fact that Gellert had always been attracted to Dark magic; so he could have learned the basis by himself in order to decipher ancient Dark ceremonies, etc.

That’s why I think both of them had learnt ancient languages. Maybe Albus took an interest in Celtic dialects (Merlin’s language?), and Gellert was familiar with Vicking Runes. It obviously helped them regarding a lot of their magical and academic performances. Indeed, the boys were able to understand old papers about the Hollows, but also ancient rituals, etc. And thus, had a wide access to a more dangerous, unstable, raw and primeral practice of magic: it was not like the average spells in Latin, but an intricate way to unleash their potential [2].

Besides, only few people - erudites - were as interested as the boys were in these old ways to use magic, and needless to say that neither of those persons were as powerful as Albus and Gellert were. Furthermore, the boys were able to keep a balance between the complexity of the enchantments and the instincts they both have regarding the expression of their magic. They accordingly thought of being more powerful than everybody else.

Foreign languages :

The languages in the schools

It is clear that Hogwarts is exclusively Anglophone. The school is quite small: 40 students per year, so 280 students in all, coming from Great Britain - England, Ireland, Scotland, Yales, so the isles. We could also think that the wizardkind living in the CommonWealth during the colonial age also studied in Hogwarts. (again a hc, but Henry Potter and his son Fleamont were both born in India, fight me)

Durmstrang, on the other hand, could host quite more nationalities. I imagine the school having three main languages: German, French and English. But in fact, English and French are more “officials”, used by administration and in some classes (French was quite important at the time, right? then it was English?). So the students most likely speak between them in German (Germany had been formed in 1871 and I think the Austrian-Ungarian Empire was also Germanophone?), Russian, Hungarian, Lithuanian… well, all the languages spoken in Easten Europe.

(and just to mention it, I believe that Beauxbâtons is a huge school, bigger than Hogwarts and Durmstrang, because we need logic at some point - anyway)

What about Albus and Gellert then, again?

Gellert was probably speaking German, English (obviously, he wrote letters in English, spoke in English with Albus and Aberforth…), maybe French, and maybe another language depending on his mother country. I headcanon him coming from the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, but he might as well come from Denmark (the country of Mikkelsen?) or a Balkan State (there were wars here at the end of the 19th century, it could be an interesting theme), etc.

However, I doubt that Albus knew Danish or Hungarian, but he definitely spoke French rather well (he exchanged letters with Nicolas Flamel) and perhaps the basis of something else (Italian? German?).

I do not mention magical foreign languages they could have been familiar with - we know Albus is fluent in Goblegedook and Mermish in 1994, but I doubt he already was in 1899.

(Also, Albus’ mother came from America, so she might be originally from the Native American community and thus know an another language and let Albus know as well, but the fact that she is Christian (most likely, regarding what is her epitaph) let me doubtful; but I’m not enough informed about the Native American history to build meta, headcanon and theories, so I won’t explore this idea more.)

All in all, they are quite familiar with a lot of languages, and they certainly had a few conversations in what was not English (a mix of Latin, Ancient Greek, German and French, perhaps?) to infuriate Aberforth and not let him know about what they were talking about. (headcanon, again)

Literature :

We do not have a lot of clues about fiction - novels, theater or poetry - belonging to the wizarding universe - except Beedle’s Tales, of course. But we can imagine it exists.

Nevertheless, I am more interested in what Albus and Gellert might have read in the muggle literature. Besides, I think it is funny to consider that some writers or playwrights are known by muggles but are in reality wizards and witches - especially Braham Stoker, Mary Shelley… maybe Poe and Shakespeare as well.

So, I imagine that Albus and Gellert would have heard of Goethe, Heine, Novalis for German literature; maybe Hugo, Baudelaire, Flaubert for French literature… most likely Dante (definitely Dante). Though I honestly do not think they were fond of novels and literature, they could have been interested by it sometimes, when it echoed to something in them - Shakespeare, but also the story of Verlaine and Rimbaud, or Oscar Wilde’s story and unique novel.

There is also the theme of Oscar Wilde, homosexual writer, and his trial at the end of the 19th century, which are recurrent topics in 1899 fanfictions - a quite interesting one, imo. Have you ever read the Preface of the Picture of Dorian Gray? Definitely Albus and Gellert vibes.

All in all, I don’t think they may have been interested in literature for literature itself, but rather for the political aspect of it. (except for Shelley, Shakespeare and Dante which are a witch and two wizards, and are interested by the references to magic in the works themselves, again hc)

To conclude :

Even though 1899 fanfictions are great - and I thank you, 1899 fanfictions writers, you are amazing - I quite love the idea of all of this aesthetic that could developed. It is somehow prompt ideas.

(also I an studying humanities so it might be why I see those themes in 1899 fanfics so well, yes)

Thanks for reading! :)

Notes :

[1] : I wrote about the conservative Wizarding World and pure-blood families here:  Why are the Weasleys poor? (eng&fr) (theories about pure-blood families, inheritance, etc) /  How can everyone find their true-love and still be in love after years in HP? (”magic-soulmates” theory and conservative society)

[2] : I wrote about Dark magic and rituals in 1899 here: What if Antonio (Gellert Grindelwald’s chupacabra) had been created in 1899? / What about a dangerous, complicated and a bit gore alchemical experience tried by Albus and Gellert secretly?

And I posted quite a lot of things about GGAD, check the Table of contents if you are interested! :)

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Please elaborate on Ireland's cultural divides!! I am intrigued!!

YES thank you so much! I’m going to preface this by saying all the information I’m going to provide is for the years leading up to 1700, and no further. So 1700 is the cap year.

OKAY SO:

In Ireland up to 1700, the main social divides were cultural and religious. Which is why Ireland is really complicated because at any given point there’s at least four groups and they all hate each other lol

Of the cultural groups, there were, as mentioned, four main ones. First up is the Native Celts; these are people that were… well, native to Ireland, rather than from England. They spoke Gaelic and were Catholics.

Next is the Old English, called such because they were a community of Norman English people, established during the Anglo-Norman invasion of Ireland in the late 1100s. They spoke English, and like the Celts were Catholic.

Then there’s the New English. This group was a community of English people established during the most recent English invasions of Ireland up to 1700 (“most recent” because England was constantly trying to take over Ireland). However, the New English weren’t Catholic, but rather Protestant, Episcopal to be exact. At this point, every country in the British Isles was Protestant except Ireland, which was predominantly Catholic. As such, the New English viewed the Celts and Old English as inferior and degenerate, and considered the Old English as having become “too Irish.”

(Which… you’re living in freaking Ireland, bro, but anyway)

And finally, there was the Scots Irish. This group came largely from invasions of Ireland by Scotland and the established settlements. The Scots Irish were also Protestant… so you’d think the Scots Irish and New English would get along, right?

WRONG.

Because as mentioned, religion was a major cultural divide as well. And when I say major, I mean MAJOR. This was largely true for the rest of Europe in 1700 as well, because this was during the period when religious wars were going on between Catholics and Protestants. Whether you were Protestant or Catholic could determine your legal and political status, what professions or jobs you could get, whether you could receive higher education, etc, and all of this depended on the official religion of the country you lived in.

Now take that continent-spanning fighting, and condense it down into one nation, and you’ve basically got Ireland. It’s a really good example of how religion was a major flashpoint at this time. This is exacerbated particularly for Great Britain as a whole because, as mentioned above, Ireland was the only country in the British Isles that was predominantly Catholic. England, Wales, and Scotland were all Protestant. All countries had established religious institutions like the Church of England, and if you followed the official religion of the country, you were guaranteed full civil rights.

(This, by the way, is a major reason why the First Amendment of the US Constitution guarantees freedom of religion and why America has no established state religion.)

So it’s pretty obvious that the New English and Scots Irish wouldn’t like the Celts and the Old English because they were Catholic, and also for the “too Irish” reason (the Irish were considered lesser than by the English). But why didn’t they like one another?

Because although they were both Protestant, the New English were Episcopal, and the Scots Irish were Presbyterian.

And looking back at it today, that may not sound too major. But in 1700 it was a HUGE deal.

AND YET, even though they may have hated each other, they STILL had more rights than Catholics.

“But Liv,” you may be saying, utterly confused, “didn’t you say that Ireland was the only Catholic country in Great Britain?” Why yes, yes I did.

HOWEVER, I said Ireland was predominantly Catholic; I never said it was Ireland’s official, established religion, as led by the Church of Ireland.

Because the Church of Ireland is not Catholic. The Church of Ireland…

*drumroll*

… is PROTESTANT.

So what this means is, you’ve got a country where approximately 80% of the population is Catholic, but the state religion is Protestant. And so in Ireland in 1700, that meant the Catholic majority had less rights than the Protestant minority, and the minority was running the country instead of the majority. And looking forward, this has had major repercussions on Irish history and events like the Troubles in the 90s.

I know, nuts, right? Hope I explained that well enough!

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty. || 17

All For You.

A few months later

April

I walk the gardens, appreciating the crisp air and the morning fog, accompanied by the grounds’ quietness. For the first time since my father passed, the grounds are quiet, no civilians are waiting and paying their respects, the flowers have gradually decreased, and the palace is relatively untroubled— a little too quiet.

I haven’t seen Harry since he left my room at four this morning. Ever since Henry’s passing a few months ago, I haven’t seen much of Harry during the day. Harry has been pulled in one-hundred different directions and forced to balance everything.

He is handling things better than I ever could have. The Henry situation would have tipped me over the edge. Harry has been the one to deal with Pippa. She hasn’t had much to do with me; she seems to avoid me for the most part. I’m not sure why she would instead work with Harry, but she appears to be a fan of him.

Madeleine and Louis have stayed at the Palace, staying under the radar and staying out of the public eye. It’s probably the best option for now. I haven’t observed much of Madeleine; she has spent most of her time with Louis and walking the grounds, and finding various places to read and write quietly. Madeleine has always been the type to keep a journal, and when she gets stressed, she writes her thoughts down. I, on the other hand, let the ideas run wild until I break down and snap.

“Her Majesty?” Oliver breaks the silence.

“It’s Anna, Oliver,” I correct him.

Oliver nods his head. “Uh, sorry,” he nervously chuckles, “Are you ready to head inside?”

I nod my head, “I guess you and Harry don’t let me stay out long, huh?”

“It’s just protocol not to stay too long out here just because of how open it is, especially with people coming and going.”

“I know,” I sigh, understanding the reasoning behind things.

I’m hoping that come summertime. The restrictions won’t be as stringent. It would be delightful to be able to roam the gardens or sit outside with disturbances. If we were to move palaces, I would be able to have more freedom, but for right now, I don’t think Matthew will agree to travel, although I plan to ask Harry. A change of scenery would be nice, even if it’s to go to Kensington or the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Scotland, any of the crown estates would be pleasant.

A small smile forms on my lips the moment I recognise Harry marching closer to us, “Good morning,” I welcome him cheerfully, delighted to see him.

Harry kisses my cheek, “Morning… Did you give Pippa permission to announce our relationship to the staff?” Harry questions, his voice deep and far from impressed.

I shake my head, unsure of what he’s talking about, “No?”

“Well, she took it upon herself to announce things on our behalf. Since when does she have any say on what the fuck happens at the palace?” Harry’s voice sounds like bottled thunder, and his eyes are dark with fury.

“Harry, I do not know… She doesn’t, and she has no say at the Palace… When did this happen?”

“Just now, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go strangle her,” Harry mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket before I grab his wrist and pull him back towards me.

“Calm down.”

Harry shakes his head, “I’ve had enough of her shit.”

“Harry, we had to tell them anyway. Let me handle this. Go back to the security room.”

Harry becomes speechless for a moment and takes a breath, “It wasn’t her business to tell. She doesn’t know if the staff will release it to the press. The press is always writing articles about us. One minute you’re dating Louis in the media, and the next minute you’re having an affair on him with me. I’ve had it.”

“You sound like you’re having a shitty morning. Just relax.”

“I am having a shit morning. I have shit to do. I love you,” Harry mutters, kissing my cheek before hurrying off.

“Pippa is about to get an earful,” I sigh, watching as Harry walks towards the palace. Oliver hums his response and continues to unobtrusively walk beside me, not giving me any queries, genuinely allowing me to wander the grounds at ease.

I am not sure who killed Henry, nor am I sure when the next attack will be or on whom it’ll be, but I do know that at some point, this will end. I can't point fingers on who’s to blame, and I wish I could. I wish I could say it’s Pippa or the government, but truth be told, I don’t know specifically who it is, and I don’t have much proof. For all I know, it could be one member of the staff who is in control of it all, one of the maids could be the mastermind of all the plans and running a circle of mass chaos. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if Harry and Matthew will ever figure it out, they’re not detectives, and all their leads seem to fail them, as do my own. I haven’t heard anything from Harry about the list of names I gave him. I don’t think he believes that it is anyone that works at the palace.

“Are Matthew and Harry working on who has killed everyone?” I ask Oliver, curious as to how much information he knows.

“Yes, Princess… That is why Harry has been hard to find lately.”

“Have they found anything?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you. I’m sorry,” Oliver shakes his head. “Please don’t threaten my job,” Oliver quickly emphasises, referencing the morning I threatened his job if he didn’t allow me to go to the security chambers. In my defence, it was the morning of my fathers funeral, and I didn’t want to be alone.

I wanted the comfort of Harry, and Oliver was not comforting me the way I needed.

“I said I was sorry about that,” I grant him a soft smile, “I really just needed Harry, nothing personal.”

Oliver nods his head and chuckles, “I know, Harry told me, but I am not letting you live it down.”

“Go figure,” I roll my eyes before I chuckle to myself.

There are days where nobody can fix the void that you feel, and the morning I went on a rampage and threatened to fire Oliver if he didn’t take me to Harry was a morning where I just needed Harry. Nobody else would suffice.

“We need to go inside. It is time for you to get ready for your coronation.”

I stop in my tracks and look at Oliver, “You and I both know it isn’t mine.”

“Anastasia,” Oliver begins, “For what it is worth, you will make a great Queen.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “I will not be crowned Queen. Pippa will not allow it,” I respond, dreading today.

I am not envious of Harry for him being crowned. I am somewhat delighted that he has to handle the mess of the monarchy. But, I am disappointed that the monarch is binding and controlling.

This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself, nor is it the life I envisioned for Harry and me. I never thought the monarchy would control us to the extent it does. I knew it would have its ties, but I thought it would be imperceptibly more manageable. I never imagined my husband would take my crown and the problems that go with it. I applaud Harry for being capable of handling things with such strides. I don’t think I could— Hence why Pippa refuses to permit me to have the crown.

Harry’s pov.

As with all royal events, coronation day accompanies its own sets of rules and regulations. Westminster Abbey has been the environment for every Coronation since 1066, and today it will be no different. I succeeded to the Throne when Anastasia should have succeeded. She will be the first successor to have not succeeded as rightfully anticipated. What a strange read in history books this will be when the public finds out about it.

We were escorted from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey in the Gold State Coach – drawn by eight grey horses, selected by Anastasia and myself. The public is anticipating a closed ceremony for Anastasia to become Queen. What they don’t know is the scandal behind it all and how they’re accepting a King.

Everything has been precisely placed and designated to accompany all coronation protocols for the day to be impeccable. The coronation Bouquet was made up of white flowers – comprising of orchids and lilies-of-the-valley from England, stephanotis from Scotland, orchids from Wales, and carnations from Northern Ireland and the Isle of Man. Every little detail is intricated for a specific reason. It has meaning— all of which I do not understand, but I am sure Anastasia knows the reasoning behind every painstaking detail. The only thing that is not a part of the royal queue is Anastaisa’s dress. On coronation day, most Queens wear neutral colours for a coronation. Anastasia, however, came down the stairs in red. She looked beautiful, but her attire was not what was expected of a royal. Buckingham Palace housemaids, chefs and gardeners gathered inside the Grand Hall at Buckingham Palace to see Anastasia. 129 nations and territories will be officially represented at the Coronation service, and I have been more concerned about Anastasia’s dress.

I smile at the members of parliament, eager to announce to them my first order as King. Pippa is intrigued and waiting for me to reveal what she had planned. She told me what my first executive order should be. To her disappointment, I’m about to cause her whole world to crumble.

I clear my throat and take my position, “As reigning King, my first executive order to be signed will be reinstating Anastasia’s title. Anastasia will, as a result of this be titled, Queen. She will be the reigning monarch,” I instruct, watching Pippa’s eyes grow wide and parliament members’ jaws drop at my words. I wander towards Anastasia and her mother, who is trying to conceal her smile. Her mother nods her head towards me, granting me her approval.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Anna softly challenges me as I take off the St. Edward's Crown and place it to rest on her head. This is rightfully hers.

I delicately take off the purple robe of estate before I move to place it over her shoulders, “I believe these belong to you, my darling,” I beam at her, honoured to be the one to crown her. I kiss her forehead before taking my place beside her, “I give you, your Queen.” I place my hands behind my back, watching as an undivided room of officials gazes at me in utter silence.

There’s absolutely nothing they can do— I played the monarchy and successfully so.

The Archbishop standing before us who administered the Coronation Oath to me, steps forward with a smile, handing Anastasia the same bible I was delivered, “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, the Union of South Africa, Pakistan, and Ceylon, and of your Possessions and the other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?”

Anastasia takes my hand and arranges it on the bible before placing her hand over mine, “We solemnly promise to do so.”

Anastasia continues her oath to the bitter disappointment of Pippa. I accompany Anna to the alter before stepping back, enabling her to independently take the Bible’s oath. “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me, God.” Anastasia speaks the oath's last words, and I take a glance at her mother, who winks at me. I nod my head— our duty is fulfilled.

The Queen, having thus taken her Oath, smiles over at me before I return her to her Chair, and the Bible is handled by one of the martials to be surrendered to the Dean of Westminster.

Anastasia turns to the parliament members, “Members of both Houses of Parliament are required by law to take an oath of allegiance to the Crown. I require you to do so formally… Pippa, you’re first.” Anastasia takes me by surprise when she halts the coronation to force the parliamentary oath.

Pippa leisurely steps forward and Anastasia stands to her feet, “What are you doing?” Pippa whispers, not charmed that we have transformed the entire plan.

Anastasia sincerely smiles and gestures for the archbishop to walk closer. “Swear her in,” Anastasia commands, and the man does as he is told. He holds the Bible out and proceeds to request Pippa’s hand. “Say the oath,” Anastasia presses.

“I, Philippa Louise Westbrooke, swear by Almighty God that I will be faithful,” Pippa trails off with a stutter before she clears her throat and composes herself. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty, Queen, Anastasia, according to law. So help me, God.”

Anastasia shakes her head, “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband and successors. So help me, God,” Anastasia changes the oath, adding the fact that Pippa is swearing under oath to be faithful not just to Anna as Queen but to our children and future successors.

I’m just as astonished as everyone else. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Anastasia has been planning this.

Pippa swallows hard and glances towards me for a saving grace— I view Anna with a first-class smile alternately. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband, and successors, according to law. So help me, God,” Pippa repeats the oath.

“You may take your seat now. We can get back to the coronation now,” Anastasia views everyone else.

“Do you have any other requests or announcements?” The archbishop questions, appearing intrigued and finding the coronation humerus. I don’t believe he thought this day would go as it has— I don’t think anyone did. Madeleine Noelle Veil even appears to be somewhat bewildered.

Anastasia nods her head, “If there is to be an intermittent King or Queen, the spouse of royal blood can rule on the conditions the royal spouse is unfit or unwell, but only the royal blood can make the decision on the stand-in ruler. While I reign, Harry can sign on my behalf if only I give him consent— We rule the monarch— not parliament. Do you need that in writing?” Anastasia questions, causing my eyes to grow wide. I had no clue that giving her an inch of power would turn out to become this. “May I sign the declaration after?”

“That would be best,” George, one of the members of parliament, speaks up, the same man who declared that Henry was the new King once Anna’s father passed. The Coronation ring, known as 'The Wedding Ring of England', makes an appearance, slowly becoming placed on The Queen's fourth finger of her right hand following tradition.

I’m not sure what Anastasia’s plans are for the nefarious parliament members, but something tells me that she has some sort of devised method to execute her dynamism and shift them out of office. I am not sure if she can overthrow Parliament as she wanted to destroy the monarch and abolish it, but I feel she will try. Anastasia will be one charismatic woman, and I would hate to be the one that has stepped on her toes. She is coming into her power a lot quicker and with more intensity than I ever imagined. I am not sure what changed in her, but she went from the grieving woman who couldn’t get herself out of bed to the woman who is about to govern the monarch with an iron fist.

*** ***

The day has been long and eventful. The return route was designed so that the procession could be seen by as many people in London as possible. The 7.2 km route took us two hours to complete. I’m exhausted, and I know Anastasia is, but she’s currently wound up on adrenaline and awe. Anastasia stepped into her power today, and she has been humble about it all, but I can see the twinkle of excitement in her eye.

She has won. We have won.

Although we have won this small battle, we have more to go through, and as much as Anastasia is thankful for taking control, I can tell she’s anxious and unsure of how or what to do. Anastasia has self-doubt, and she made the obvious on the car ride to the palace when she asked me if she would make a good Queen. She wanted assurance that this is the best decision for the monarch and her. Nothing I do or say will convince her that this is one-hundred percent a good idea. She will always have doubts. After all, look at the people who have pushed her down and doubted her. For months she has been told she is unfit to rule and doesn’t deserve her fathers legacy, she has been beaten down to the point I wasn’t sure she’d manage to get back up, but she has.

“Anna, darling,” I gesture for her to walk closer to me. At first, she’s hesitant, unsure of what I want, but begins to step closer with gleaming eyes and that winsome smile of hers, “This… this is what you need to remember any time you have doubts about being Queen,” I instruct before I shift to open the glass windows, enabling the crisp air to flow into the room, along with the sweetness of her people cheering, “God save the Queen,” applauding her coronation. “Parliament might want to see you fail, but the people don’t. This is all for you; they believe in you, you better bloody believe in yourself, too.” I show Anastasia the stance she has and how she has the backing and endorsement of her people.

Anastasia grins and nods her head, “Would the King join me to express my gratitude?” Anastasia questions, taking my hand and beginning to wander to the large glass doors with the gold trim that only opens on exceptional occurrences. Anastasia stands at the doors, and I reach towards the handles, pushing down on them before gingerly opening the doors that lead to the balcony. Anastasia takes a breath and peers at me, “It’s my pleasure to greet the people as Queen formally, even more so do it with you as King, will you?” Anastasia signals towards the balcony that overlooks the people below. I swallow hard and stare at her, unsure of what to do.

If I step on the balcony with her, that’s it. That’s the end of our secrecy; our relationship will be in the public eye. “Anna, there’s no going back if I do this.”

“I know… but if you don’t want to—“

“Baby, that’s not what I mean,” I shake my head, “This announces us as well as a couple.”

Anastasia nods her head, “I know, it’s what we want, right? To no longer hide?”

I grow withdrawn for a minute. We are finally getting what we want, and somehow I’m still nervous and fearful—going public concerns me for various reasons. We aren’t just dodging the bullets of parliament. We will now be avoiding the people’s bullets if they disapprove of me. I’m still nothing but a simple man who fell in love with a woman with a royal title. No matter what has transpired or what will follow, I will never be royal. I may honour the title dubbed upon me, but my blood is not royal. I’m a commoner.

I kiss her forehead before taking a step back, “After you, Queen,” I smile, motioning for her to step out on the balcony and address her supporters. Anastasia steps out wearing the Imperial State Crown and the Royal Robes to greet the cheering crowds. I move behind her, in awe at how the people applaud her the moment she is regarded. I do not doubt in my mind that Anna is going to go down in history as an astonishing Queen.

Anastasia glances over her shoulder, and I step closer to her, placing my arm around her as she does an honorary wave, “Your Dad always said that you could tell a lot by the way a royal greets their people— But I think you can tell a lot by the way the people greets the royal,” I comment, still in awe at how welcoming and pleasant the crowd is towards Anastasia. I have never witnessed such an event. They love her, absolutely love and adore her. They approve of her reign, and I think that’s something Anna didn’t realise would occur. Although Parliament is against her, the people are living proof of where true loyalty and power lies.

“You can tell a lot by the person standing next to the reigning ruler,” Anastasia answers, leaning up to kiss my cheek, sealing our fate of publicly expressing our relationship. “I love you, Harry. I love you today, and I’ll love you tomorrow and the day after. The monarch, the people and parliament do not define that. They do not control us– we reign,” Anastasia informs me, “As quickly as we have gained this monarch, I’ll gladly give it up in a heartbeat for you. You once asked me to surrender the crown for us to be together, and I denied you… standing here, with the crown, I’ll happily give it up if you have second thoughts about this.”

Even at her highest moment where she should be proud of herself and what we have contrived to do, and even after how hard I fought to not only keep her crown but to hand it back to her strategically, she’ll still selflessly give it up for me. I shake my head, “This is your fathers legacy to live on. I don’t want you to surrender for me.”

Anastasia does not know, but I have fought Pippa for weeks to let Anna take her crown back. I have contended and pleaded until I broke and spoke to Anastasia’s mother, where we devised the plan to double-cross Pippa. I allowed Pippa to believe I would support her dream and take the crown officially today; I allowed her to think that I recognised that Anastasia was unfit to rule and that it should be left to me. I kept the crown and what the King worked for safe. I protected the palace against the media and spread of false rumours, I defended the castle from the backlash of Victoria and Henry’s murders— I worked diligently to be able to give Anastasia her rightful crown— I worked hard to provide her with the right to choose to do as she wishes with the monarch. I will stand by her with whatever decision she executes if she rules; I will stand by Anna and proudly watch her govern the country. If she abolishes, I will stand beside Anna and hold her as she makes the hardest decision of her life. If she chooses to overthrow parliament, I will stand beside Anastasia and grin as she takes back the control they have taken from her family. I will honour Anastasia as my wife, and I will protect her as her husband and security detail. Still, most importantly, I will love her no matter what decision she chooses to make regarding the crown.

The crown has broken her, but it has also made her who she is. It has challenged her to no ends, but she has perpetually come out on top. She’s a fighter and doesn’t back down from a fight, and I don’t think she’s going to back down from the monarchy now.

“I love you,” Anastasia breathes out.

“I love you, too,” I respond, straightening her crown that has fallen a little too forward. No matter what occurs in this life of ours, I will always be here to adjust her crown, literally and metaphorically.

Anastasia presents the people one last wave before she turns on the 'Lights of London'. Lights cascade down the Mall, kindling the tremendous cypher on Admiralty Arch and transforming the fountains in Trafalgar Square into flowing silver until all the floodlights from the National Gallery to the Tower of London have been enkindled.

The lights illuminate, as does her reign. Anastasia wanders inside, and I follow her, relieved to support the people on our side. Parliament and the monarchy’s dictates may disagree with our marriage. Some of the staff may not even agree, but possessing the people’s blessing makes things a bit more permissive.

I close the doors behind us and concede the sheer curtains to slide across so the people cannot see in. As this may be the closing of a chapter, it’s just the beginning for us and our story.

[prongsies]

Star-Crossed ⁕ Chapter 2

←Chapter 1 | Master List

Two weeks have passed since Thalia’s arrival at The Burrow. By then, Hermione had joined them, staying with Ginny in her room and offering an extra pair of hands in completing the household chores that needed accomplishing as each day passes. By that time their O.W.L.s results have been delivered, Thalia receiving an ‘Outstanding’ in all – well, except Divination.

The twins’ results came in as well, the two brandishing their eight O.W.L.s - COMBINED – like a badge of honor, much to Molly’s dismay. Thalia was proud of them, though, since she knows their beliefs rest on their skills lying outside any academic-related profession – and they didn’t believe in the significance of exams. Nevertheless, she was proud of them for at least trying.

Harry arrives days later, fetched by Arthur, Ron, and the twins in their little muggle home in Surrey. When they returned, it was in the middle of Thalia and Ginny teaching Hermione how to play Exploding Snap on the floor in the living room – which Hermione had never found interest in, really – just to pass the time. This is then followed by Molly berating the twins for using Harry’s cousin as a subject of experimentation for their ‘Ton-Tongue’ coffee, which, although Harry found hilarious, earned them two days of doing all the chores.

“You’re on your own this time, lads” Thalia laughed as she pushed the twins faces away while they try to convince her to offer even just a little bit of help, “You’ve made her proper mad this time, you’re not sucking me into that punishment”

She turned back to Ginny and Ron, who were already starting a new game with Harry, before winking back at Fred and George.

“Come on, Lia” Fred said softly, sliding next to Thalia who was concentrating for the game, “just so we could perfect the Puking Pastilles before school starts”

“Puking what?” Ron interjected, earning a roll of the eyes from the twins.

“None of your business, Ronniekins” George teased. He joined Fred in trying to convince Thalia, eventually having her agree on making breakfast for all of them just because she enjoyed cooking.

“You owe me!” She screamed behind the two boys, who ran up the stairs as soon as she said yes. They shouted incoherent responses back to her, before the loud slam of their bedroom door echoed until the living room.

The Quidditch World Cup day had finally arrived, but much to everyone’s excitement, they had to leave before the sun could even cast a single ray in the sky, just so they wouldn’t have to deal with more crowd later. Ginny had been the one to wake the three in Fred and George’s bedroom, knocking loudly at the door while screaming “IT’S WORLD CUP DAY!”  

With a groan, Thalia peeled herself off her comfortable bed. She peered over towards Fred and George, still asleep in theirs, before gathering her clothes and making her way to the bathroom to get ready.

Percy had just gotten out of his shower when she arrived, smiling at the sight of her all disheveled from last night’s sleep, “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes”

“Percy Weasley, are you teasing me?” Thalia mocked gasp, her hands flying straight to her hair to flatten it.  

Percy laugh with a roll of his eyes before side-stepping to allow her to use the bathroom. She called back to him before he could return to his room, asking, “Are you coming with us?”

Percy looked back, “No, I’m afraid not. I have to run some things over at the Ministry before going. I’ll see you there, though”

Thalia hummed in response as she reentered the bathroom, taking a quick shower and drying her brown hair before changing into her outfit. She figured a sweater would do the trick since, well, she’d definitely sweat on their hike to find the portkey. Pairing it with some pants and boots, she exited the bathroom and returned to the twins’ room to wake them.

When she descended the stairs, she was immediately greeted by Charlie and Bill Weasley, who were both in a debate against Percy on magical creatures over the dining table, as Hermione and Ginny drowned them out with their own silent chattering.  

“Pestering him again, you two?” Thalia asked Bill and Charlie in amusement, leaning down to hug Bill briefly before taking her seat beside Ginny. Percy, who seemed to be on the losing end, huffed and hurriedly finished his breakfast, before standing to leave to the Ministry. “You know you should’ve given it to him this time”

“As his older brothers” Bill shared a look with Charlie.

“Nah” They said in unison before returning to their food. Thalia soon mimicked them, scooping beans onto her plate and forking down some sausages, pairing it up with some toast.

Everyone had been well-fed as they double-checked their belongings while they readied to leave. Harry, Ron, and the twins have gotten up a bit later than everyone else, and were the only ones being waited on as they prepared.

“Ireland, eh?” Bill asked, motioning towards the green bandana Thalia had tied around her backpack as he approached her, “Care to make a bet?”

“No bets, William Weasley!” Molly scolded from the top of the stairs as she retrieves what looked like a coin bag. She paused to look at Bill pointedly, before leaving to give Arthur the bag.

“Anyway” Bill continued when his mother was out of earshot. He said confidently, “I bet you 2 galleons Krum catches the snitch and Bulgaria wins”

“Sign me up for that!” Charlie, not even trying to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping, joined them, swinging an arm over his older brother’s shoulder, “I’m going with Bill her, Lia”

“Well, I bet you Krum catches the snitch but Ireland wins”  

“Impossible!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically.

“Not as impossible as Bulgaria winning”

“Placing bets already?” Arthur joined in, coming inside from the garden to retrieve what looked like his wand from the coffee table. He leaned in to talk softly to them, “don’t let your mother find out” before leaving, scurrying Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny along.

“Pretty sure you’re gonna lose mate” Fred joined in, pulling Thalia towards him by the shoulder.

“Thalia knows what she’s talking about” George continued.

They were ushered out the house by Molly, who looked far too impatient to have the three in a deep conversation with Bill and Charlie that seemed to be dragging along. With a promise from the two eldest to meet them at the World Cup, they finally left, setting foot into the hills towards where the portkey should be.

The three overtook Ron and Harry, who were following Hermione and Ginny in front of them sleepily as they practically forced themselves up the hill, and joined Arthur in the very front, conversing with him about all the other Quidditch World Cups he had been to.

Nearly an hour into their journey, Thalia started shivering from the cold. She now regrets choosing a sweater over something that could’ve been warmer, underestimating the kind of cold England had prepared for her. Since fishing for her jacket from her backpack would take too long, Thalia decided to just endure the cold for a little while longer, since Arthur had already told them they were in the site where the portkey was planted.

Looking around, a voice called their attention, “Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!”

Thalia looked up to see two silhouetted figures up the hill, following Arthur as he approached them. Thalia found herself beside Ginny and Hermione, who started whispering about the boy standing beside the man Arthur was talking to. They were introduced to Amos Diggory, a co-worker of Arthur at the Ministry of Magic.

“I take it you know his son, Cedric?” Arthur asked. Thalia gaze immediately went to Fred and Geroge, a smirk playing on her lips at the sight of them scowling at him. They’ve definitely haven’t forgiven him for their defeat against the Hufflepuff in their last game – especially since Cedric had caught the snitch before Harry.

“Hi” Cedric greeted sheepishly, smiling at Harry whom he seems to be in good terms with despite the loss. His eyes trailed over to Thalia, before approaching her.

Hermione and Ginny made space for him as he neared, Ginny elbowing Thalia suggestively for a moment before she was pulled away by Hermione.

“Uhm,” Cedric scratched the back of his head awkwardly, making Thalia smile, “You looked a bit cold – you can have my coat if you like. I took it off when it got a bit hot for me – it's not sweaty, though, I swear!”

Thalia laughed as the boy’s cheek flushed, making a move to accept the coat that hung on his forearm when a voice interrupted her.

“Thanks, mate, but she’s good” said Fred sternly, allowing his hand to brush the dip in Thalia’s back. In the distance, she could see Ron, Ginny, and Hermione whispering among themselves, Ron sending a wink towards Thalia, and Ginny giving her a thumbs up. These children, I swear to Merlin

“I am cold though” Thalia persisted, ignoring Fred as she reached over to grab the coat now outstretched in Cedric’s arm.

“Oh, Godric’s gracious” Fred murmured as he dropped his bag, slipping off his own coat revealing a pullover underneath. “Here”

He slung the coat over Thalia’s shoulders as he stomped back to join George and the others, scowling as they teased him over his little episode.

“He’s- he’s had a rough day – he's not really a morning person” Thalia tried to clear the air, just to make Cedric feel a little comfortable, “Thank you for the offer, though”

Cedric smiled back at her, relaxing a bit when Thalia rested a hand on his shoulder, turning him to where everyone had already gathered, circling a manky old boot which turned out to be the portkey. Thalia groaned as the boot transported them into the location of the World Cup, landing them straight onto a patch of damp grass with a thud.

She looked up to see Arthur, Amos, and Cedric descending gently from the sky, all looking at them humorously as they tried to compose themselves. Cedric was quick to help Thalia onto her feet, before skipping over to Harry to help him up as well.

They bid each other good bye soon after, with the Weasleys, Thalia, Harry, and Hermione following Arthur towards their tent. The rest happened in a blur for Thalia as she was finally able to rest on the small couch in the middle of the room, allowing herself to succumb to her tiredness as she drifted off to sleep right then and there.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

“Wake up, love” a voice whispered as a hand ran gently on her forehead. Thalia hummed as she forced her eyes awake, smiling as she came face to face with Fred who was knelt on the floor beside her. She sat up, stretching a bit before looking around and noticing the gazes of everyone around her, all on them.

Even Percy, who had been wiping down the table after spilling a soda moments ago, was staring at his younger brother, surprised to see him use a softer voice for once, before Arthur called him from outside the tent to introduce him to another Ministry co-worker.

“It is World Cup time?” Thalia asked sleepily, still adjusting to her surroundings after her wonderful nap.

“In a couple of hours” Fred replied, “We’ll have lunch first, of course. Dad’s brought chicken”

“Brilliant” replied Thalia stifling a yawn. She excused herself to go to the bathroom to freshen up, leaving everyone to continue staring at Fred. He occupied the space Thalia had slept in, before being joined by Ginny, Charlie, and George while the other returned to the conversation.

“You like her, don’t you?” Charlie teased, poking Fred’s cheeks as the younger boy tried pushing him away.

“I don’t” Fred slapped his hand, which grew nearer and nearer to his cheek, away, “She’s like a sister to me”

“I’m your sister” Ginny joined in in the teasing, “and you’ve never woke me up like that”

“Yeah” George added, “If you woke our little Ginevra like that, she’d be less of a grump grump in the morning”

“Shut your mouth, George. Like you’re any better”

The two continued to tease themselves as Thalia returned, a large smile on her face and her hair damp. “I’m ready to be four galleons richer once this game’s over”

“As if” Bill, having just returned to the tent, retorted, throwing an apple he had brought along towards Thalia who caught it easily. She tossed it over to Harry, who happily ate it, before joining Fred and the others on the sofa.

“Care to share what this meeting is about?”

“It’s about you losing, obviously”

“You wish, William!” Thalia exclaimed, tossing a throw pillow into his direction, which served its purpose well as it hit Bill square in the face. He had a mischievous expression on his face as the pillow fell onto the floor, before chasing after Thalia as she ran out the tent, nearly running into Arthur, who called out after the two.

World Cup time – as Thalia liked to call it – finally came, and everyone in the tent was practically bouncing on the heels of their feet as they waited for each other to finish getting ready so they could leave to go to the stadium. The tent flooded colors of green as everyone adorned scarves and hats to show their support for the Irish, except for Charlie, Bill, Ron, and Harry who all sided with Bulgaria.

“It’s your first World Cup, right?” Thalia asked, approaching Harry whose eyes looked around in pure amazement, grinning widely as the crowd around him blew horns and ignited Dr Fillibuster’s Fireworks freely. He had stopped to buy three pairs of omnioculars from a kind wizard selling them.

“Yeah, I wonder how different it’ll be from Hogwarts Quidditch” Harry replied, thanking the man after he received his purchase. He waited for Thalia who had bought four pairs of her own, before turning and smiling at Harry kindly.

“Much brutal, this is” Thalia laughed, leading Harry to where the others were after she had finished buying them. “Would you like to play professionally one day?”

“I would” Harry replied dreamily, a faint smile playing on his lips at the idea, before he frowned, “although I don’t think it’s the best option, with the war going on”

“Well, don’t forget to consider your own happiness once this is all over” Thalia advised, patting his back, “I know, however, that you’d be brilliant in whatever field you choose. Last I heard, you wanted to be an Auror?”

“Very much so” Harry scratched his nose, “But the idea of playing professionally isn’t off the table”

“Very well” Thalia grinned at him, before allowing him to join Ron and Hermione, handing them the omnioculars he had bought. Thalia handed Ginny her purchase, receiving a hug in thanks for her small gift.  

Keeping one in her coat pocket, she made her way over to Fred and George to give them theirs, only to find them whispering among themselves, “Talking about me, aren’t we?” She teased.

“Talking about how much of a bugger you are, yes” Fred retaliated, capturing Thalia’s head in a noogie causing her to squeal, trying to squirm away from his grip. When she freed herself, she ran ahead towards Ginny and Hermione, who were in a conversation about house elves.

The group ascended the stairs of the gigantic stadium, going “as high as they can go” as instructed by the Ministry witch who checked their tickets.

“Blimey, dad! How far up are we?” complained Ron, already panting from the number of stairs they’ve climbed thus far. Arthur turned to give his youngest son an answer, when someone had already beat him to it.

“Let’s put it this way” The voice belonged to none other than Lucius Malfoy, sneering up at them from a couple of flights below, “If it rains, you would be the first to know”

Arthur made a move to usher the children up the stairs, not wanting Malfoy to destroy the mood they were in, when Thalia stopped to stare down at the silver-haired man with a stern glare.

“Lucius” She acknowledged curtly. The Weasleys stopped upon hearing her voice, the first time they’ve heard that cold tone she’d usually use in conversing to people in Pureblood galas. “It’s nice to see you’re going as high up as you can as well. Mother made sure we’ve got the Prime seats next to the Minister of Magic and the Bulgarian Minister. I trust, you’ll be seated with us as well?”

“Yes” Lucius snapped, arms crossed over his chest.

“Very well, I hope your prejudice hasn’t affected your intellect” Thalia replied, a smirk playing on her face, “Considering you’ve pretty much belittled your own seats in the process. Good day, Lucius”

The man kept his mouth shut in lack of anything to say, while Thalia ushered everyone else to continue their journey up, nodding at Draco and Narcissa Malfoy in greeting.

“Blimey, Thalia!” mused George, who stood next to Fred a couple of steps below her. “hearing that voice sent chills up my spine”  

“It’s bloody hot, is what it is” Fred had mumbled, thinking he had gotten away unheard, but flushed at the sound of his twin snorting out a laugh, “Oh, shut it, Georgie!”

Finally, they had managed to make their way into their seats. Harry was immediately pulled away from the group to be introduced to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and to the Bulgarian Minister. The Malfoys arrived minutes later, Lucius scowling as he avoided and sense of contact with the Weasley’s group, especially with Thalia.

They cheered when Ludo Bagman had started taking over the stands, placing his wand to his throat as he announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

Master List | Chapter 3→

TAGLIST:

@elf-punk

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

What stress has the lottery win added? I'd have thought it would solve a lot of things.

It solves debt, and you can buy the things you want. I’m not going to pretend that’s not amazing, because it IS amazing, but that’s it.

First of all, you immediately realise that you were wrong to trust certain people. Thanks to one of my brother’s work friends and his loose tongue, Amazon briefed his win out at a regional meeting (when they had no right to do that, but Amazon does a lot of shit that they shouldn’t have the right to do) and he was forced to go public because choosing to go public means that Camelot handles all of the press, so theoretically, we wouldn’t have to deal with reporters turning up at our house (which we would have had to do if he hadn’t gone public because Camelot have certain arrangements set up with the press that protects us from their direct interference). He had no choice but to partake in a press conference which, for various reasons that are personal for him and I will not share, was the most horrible experience of his life. I wasn’t able to get the time off work to be with him and my anxiety was at an all time high all day. And that was without the fallout when his story went public.

(Also, FYI, most quotes you read from lottery winners are fabricated by the press, and the happy smiling faces you see on the news are demanded of them by a screaming hoard of camera wielding maniacs who ostensibly represent the press)

Most lottery winners you see in the news are middle-aged couples, but my brother is a young man who intended to use his money for good (which, I must add, he HAS, although I’m sure the people who see him going to wrestling shows in America will assume differently, but most of what he’s received so far has been used to help other people) so the press was ALL over it. Luckily, the country seemed to love him too, but there were still cruel and disgusting comments made online about my baby brother, MY baby brother, who is a sweet and sensitive and kind person, who I have protected all of my life. I could do nothing to shield him from that undeserved abuse, and we resolved not to read anything, but a lot of that nastiness found its way to us via well meaning friends who were outraged and wanted to share it. Thousands of strangers found him on Facebook and flooded him with pleas, marriage proposals, abuse, you name it. A famous comedian who we both formerly loved wrote a shitty article about him for no fucking reason at all. And the Daily Mail showed up at my home anyway because they’re the fucking Daily Mail, wanting to speak to ME in the hopes that the lottery winner’s sister would spill some dirt on him. Then they went to Ireland—where of course, the news of an Irish boy winning the English lottery had also swept the nation—and showed up at my mother’s house.

Something else that goes hand-in-hand with a lottery win is the imposter syndrome, the huge feelings of guilt because you won the money and somebody in a more dire situation didn’t, so you don’t think you deserve it, and the irrational fear that it’ll all get taken away from you (this is VERY common). I’m not going to discuss the specifics of my brother’s mental health here because that’s not my place, but everything I’ve just said, all of that guilt and paranoia, happens to most lottery winners and when you already have mental health issues it does nothing to fix them. That’s why Camelot (who have been amazing, by the way) have an aftercare system in place. A lot of lottery winners start therapy because it becomes extremely difficult to share those feelings (or indeed, any other, unrelated problems) with anyone they know personally. Most people assume that winning the lottery has solved most of your problems. What do you have to be stressed or unhappy about, they wonder? Too many people assume that money is a one-size-fits-all quick-fix for every issue, so they don’t show concern for your emotional well-being or appreciate the stress that comes with great change. They revoke your right to any sort of struggle whatsoever.

(I would like to point out at this moment that one particularly phenomenal person, my darling @bcdaily, expressed these very concerns to my brother over a pub lunch, which was an act of kindness that he sorely needed. He still talks about it now. So thank you so much for that, babe ❤️)

As you can now probably imagine, winning the lottery means that there are people in your life who will start making shitty, jealous, resentful comments to you on a regular basis, comments that are deeply hurtful, comments that are completely unwarranted. People you haven’t spoken to for years will suddenly come out of the woodwork because I guess they’ll feel you’re worth being friends with now that you have money. We BOTH have friends who just immediately cut us out after the lottery win with absolutely no explanation. Some of my colleagues treat me differently because they assume I’m rolling in cash and now can’t understand their lives, and it’s a hundred times worse for my brother than it is for me. And yes, he still has some amazing close friends that he can trust, but bearing in mind everything I’ve just said, I’m sure you can see how easy it would be to start feeling like you have to walk on eggshells with those friends too, lest you drive them away? You can see how your own feelings of guilt and unworthiness might grow? Winning the lottery is extremely isolating, and isolation is a horrible thing to deal with.

Bear in mind, too, that our parents are gambling addicts and abusive AND my mother has such an obsession with money that she stolen from both of us in the past. She stole my first credit card to gamble online and emptied my brother’s bank account when he was due to use the money inside to pay rent. Bear in mind also that I am protective of my brother and moved him to England to be with me because I wanted to protect him from our parents. My mother and I wound up having such a bad fight as a direct result of this lottery win that I had a complete emotional breakdown and had to start seeing a therapist. Which is great. Yay therapy. But the emotional breakdown wasn’t very nice and I am still dealing with constant feelings of anxiety. I am worried about my brother all the time. I am worried about his safety all the time. Those feelings don’t just go away in time, they sit with you and you have to figure out how to deal with them. And again, I’m not going to go into specifics about my brother’s mental health, but it is so much worse for him.

Oh, and too many people seem to think they know best regards: what he should be doing with his money. I would like to tell those people now that their advice is unwanted. Ta.

[nadiawrites14]

okay um oc masterpost or whatever??? because i guess i need to give some context

alright alright alright this is the first time im doing this im nervous and bad at summarizing things so please forgive me </3 so my main/centrlal oc story thingy is called liaisons which has been a wip name for 2 years and it is basically the result of a weird adventure into politics and a hyperfixation on super specific political/geographical areas and history so um sadly i am a bootlicker 

i don’t trust politicians or the government therefore i will make ocs who are the government. anyways describing the basic plot under the cut

some background to begin. this is just a huge alternate universe where everything that goes wrong goes wrong and i think thats epic. anyhow liaisons for now is divvied up in 4 different parts each focusing on 3 mcs and their geopolitical circles. also i have a 20 page outline that im still not even done with

the backdrop for the whole thing is that northern ireland suddenly ups and leaves and secedes back into ireland with a lot of assistance from ireland that the british establishment was beautifully unaware of. basically everyone was unwilling to go to war though so they just said whatever i guess. but then scotland said ‘hey, i can do that too’ and decided to hop off the sinking ship that was the uk. obviously this made the establishment CONCERNED and they tried to rope them back in through a war, the crown prince became a hybrid dictator and declared martial law, and the uk was basically havoc and death for 6 months without any intervention from the eu/un/nato etc bc nobody could be bothered rlly. the war ended with the execution and banishment of the royal family and most of the nobility, while a few escaped underground, and MP ben hunter from brighton became the new prime minister after playing a huge role in the whole overthrowing the war establishment

unfortunately he’s a piece of shit. cue plot!

part i. political tensions are high in england with ben supporting the eu and wishing to stay in to the dislike of the population and parliament. he’s making a lot of pretty bad choices actually but nobody’s checking him. meanwhile in france there’s a pretty brutal presidential race going on and the current president mr. henri toussaint is massively corrupt and doesnt do shit and is just the WORSt guy possible. so his challenger is this epic lady named liv gardet-akoma and shes pretty popular and also very sexy and epic and hates the establishment. her kid nephew who used to live in africa is also in her care now because his parents died </3 and hes a prodigy who wants to overthrow the government </3 so mr toussaint’s daughter angeline hates her dad and hes mistreated her and kept her at a low level government position when shes clearly more capable so she endorses liv instead. and this is a big deal bc shes also an influencer and model with a ton of followers. that’s kind of what’s going on there, and liv is just learning how to navigate the weird climate and deal with some scandals going on in belgium and monaco and how she fits into the whole scheme of things, especially alongside ben who is out of his mind and thinks hes the hot shit. important side note angie becomes liv’s vp and is approached by ben to help with a secret project (hint: it’s secret and it’s really bad!!! hes bad!!!!!) and she accepts, and starts to fall for ben’s deputy lloyd who is just a dumb bitch with an oxford degree

part ii. ms gustava nielsen is probably the biggest opponent to everything ben stands for, shes the prime minister of sweden, loves the monarchy, and thinks that bitch needs to be held accountable for his actions. so she and all her friends who also have monarchies in their countries or support her decide to dip from the european union and start their own confederacy. because she needs support she goes to the balkans and meets a bunch of idiots. dont worry though they’ll be important later in part 3. she especially hits it off with mr. laszlo who is the president of north macedonia although he isnt really into all of that alliance thing. he has opponents on all sides of him and isnt looking to aggravate that further. gustava learns a lot and debates on how to best handle this with a lot of people opposing her and threatening her. ben and her go at it and debate for a while, and they keep playing hot potato with like 7 different eastern countries until BOOM nobody expects the american government and ben and gustava and everyone has to do remedial on that. gustava is just dealing with a lot of dumbassery and questioning the honesty and ethicality of her position which is brought into further uncertainty when a string of assassinations and political discomfort occurs. but don’t worry it all gets worked out in the end and everyone is happy (for now)

*intermission music* 

[tcmmysheiby]

inspector’s daughter: tommy shelby.

Request:  Hiii! Can I request reader is Inspector Campbell's daughter and falls in love with Tommy? She's younger. Word Count: 1568 words.

The words that your father had frequently spoken played in your mind as you sauntered over the cobbled pavement and towards the disreputable pub that you had been warned about. The best thing to do would have been to walk away and stop acting like a child, do the right thing and keep yourself out of trouble but the longing to rebel and go against your Father had become too much.

“Can I have a whiskey please?” you asked, brushing your hair from out of your face as you ordered your drink, the barman swiftly moving around the bar as he sorted your drink out.

You placed your handbag on the bar as you rooted through it, attempting to find some of the money that your father had left for you. It was meant to be for something practical, not to be wasted on booze at the one part of Small Heath you had been told to stay away from.

“I’ll pay.”

You turned your head to the side and smirked, recognising the man immediately from the files your father had left hanging around. As Tommy paid for your drink, you quickly scanned the pub and sighed in relief when you didn’t say any familiar faces, you were safe for the time being.

“Here alone?” he asked, pushing your drink towards you with his finger.

Leaning the side of your body against the bar, you looked Tommy up and down, smiling at the way he slightly flushed because of your stare. When you looked away, Tommy took it as a chance to look you over, check for anything that would make him apprehensive and make him believe that you were only in his local so you could find out information and feed it back to your father.

“Yes, I am,” you eventually answered, snapping your fingers in front of Tommy’s face and bringing him away from the half-conscious state that he was in, his eyes caught on your expensive dress that seemed to be doing things to him.

Tommy licked his bottom lip before turning to face the bar, his stare focusing on the several bottles of liquor that were placed on the shelves. You mirrored his actions before grabbing a cigarette from your bag, your wrist flicking across the match box to light a flame.

“Not with your father?” Tommy asked as he took the cigarette you had offered him from your hands. Tommy looked over your fingers, smirking at the sight of no ring, not that it would stop him anyway.

“Obviously not. Are you here with your brothers?”

“Yeah, they are in the backroom.” He nodded towards a door that you presumed led to the room he spoke off, a place where all of his dishonourable business deals and meetings went down when too many people were at the betting shop. “So, what brings you here?”

Briskly glancing at Tommy, you shrugged your shoulders. You knew why you was there, of course you did, but you weren’t willing to admit that to the strikingly attractive gentleman you had only ever heard your father speak about. Just from the private documents and your fathers whispers as he spoke on the phone, you understood that Tommy was not a man that you would want to get on the wrong side with but like always, you felt the need to overstep the mark and you found some sort of amusement in playing with the gangster.

“I was bored.”

“Looking for me?” Tommy dared to ask before flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette into the ashtray.

“No, just fancied a drink and you happened to be here. I wasn’t to know that, was I?”

You were just relieved that Grace was not at work, your plan would be completely messed up and you would be sent back to Ireland without another word, cruel phrases from your father spoken as you boarded the boat to go back to your mundane life. You were positive that word would get back to your father somehow, his only daughter speaking with the infamous Tommy Shelby was some of the best gossip Small Heath would have seen in a while but you were prepared for the consequences of your actions, a plan already formed in your mind.

“Something tells me you did know I would be here and that’s the only reason you travelled halfway across Small Heath. I mean, you must have passed what, a dozen pubs just to get here?”

Stubbing your cigarette out, you turned to the side to look at Tommy and rolled your eyes at the cocky grin on his face, he knew that he had caught you out. “Someone has an ego.”

“Was you fed up of being stuck in that hotel room?”

“How do you know where I’ve been staying?”

Questions bounced backwards and forwards, the need to find out information for yourself strong, inquisitiveness was always your weakness but it seemed that Tommy was just as interested about his arch enemies' daughter.

“I made sure I knew everything about the Inspector’s daughter.”

“Including her whereabouts?” You raised your chin to look at Tommy, your frame small compared to his. All you could really think about was how handsome he truly was, the pictures that you had seen in the private files not representing his true beauty that had your heart skipping the moment you saw him. “Some people would call that stalking.”

“It was you who travelled all this way just to come and see me,” he quipped. Tommy raised his hand to your face, his palm flattening against your cheek as he forced you to look at him. “How did something like you come from a man like him?”

“Been asking myself that same question for years, Thomas,” you replied quietly, confidence falling under the stare of the feared gentleman. “How did a sweet boy like you become the most feared man in all of Small Heath, possibly the whole of Birmingham?”

“Who said I was sweet?”

“You're not the only one who has done their research.”

“Why are you here, love?”

Tommy’s voice turned serious as he watched your carefully, not against the idea of you turning up in his local when you looked as appealing as you did. He couldn’t understand it though, he always believed that Campbell’s daughter was faithful to the man who had raised her, never go against what he stood for or court the men he was chasing.

Tommy could see the pain in your eyes though. You were fed up of being tied to your father, doing whatever he wanted so you didn’t have to listen to his constant moaning. You had travelled to England just to keep him on cloud nine and you wanted something out of it, unimpressed with where your father had brought you.

“Like I said, I was bored and needed something to distract and amuse me for a while.” You moved a piece of your hair behind your ear, a habit of yours when you were nervous or feeling self-conscious. “Are you going to get me another drink?”

“Spying on me?”

Of all the questions they had asked, this was the one Tommy was most curious about. Why else would you be there? No-one dared to go against Inspector Campbell, apart from Tommy and his family, so he couldn’t see any reason for you being at The Garrison. The repercussions of your actions would not be worth spending the night with Tommy which you understood fully but as childish as it sounded, you needed something exciting and risky in your life. There was only so many times you could stare at the same four walls before you could feel yourself going insane, the need to get out and explore Small Heath, and a certain person, more powerful than ever before.

“There’s already someone else doing that. Look a bit closer to home and you might just realise who.”

You turned to Tommy and smiled sweetly before clapping your hands together once, mumbling about how you should leave in case your father decided to finish work early and then question you on your whereabouts. Tommy watched you with bewilderment, your words a gigantic enigma to him, a variety of faces running through his mind as he tried to figure out if anyone had been acting cynical since Inspector Campbell's arrival in Birmingham.

“You really don’t know, do you?” You looked at Tommy with kind eyes, almost feeling sorry for the man who was being taken for a fool. “It will all make sense one day although it might be too late at that point.”

“Tell me.”

You stifled a laugh and shook your head. “I can’t go against my father like that, Tommy. My life would not be worth living and you know it.”

It was Tommy’s turn to laugh. “You’re already halfway there, might as well go the full way.”

“My father travels down to London on Friday,” you started, moving one hand across the bar until it reached Tommy’s. “Come to my hotel room, through the back so no-one sees you, and I might just tell you everything you want, and need, to know about my father’s investigation. Of course, there is a price.”

“And what might that be?”

You giggled quietly as you grabbed your bag, giving one last look to Tommy. “Well, that’s down to you, sweetheart.”  

[slashers-hell]

Ethnicites of the Dead by Daylight Characters

Dunno if anyone cares, but this great post about all non-white Dead by Daylight characters inspired me to expand the idea to all characters.

Survivors

Dwight Fairfield Caucasian American. “Fairfield” is a surname derived from the Danish language, meaning “sheep-field.” So perhaps, Dwight has Scandinavian roots.

Meg Thomas Caucasian American. Her surname “Thomas” is a common name in England, Wales, Scottland, France, Germany, Netherlands, and Denmark. Since I myself live in Germany and was born in the Netherlands, I can safely say that “Thomas” is exclusively used as a first name here. I believe the same applies to France and Denmark. Having said that, it is fair to assume that Meg has English, Welsh, or Scottish roots. The English are of Germanic origin anyway. 

Claudette Morel Black Canadian. But her full name is of French origin. Since I am not Canadian, I might be very wrong about this (so please correct me if that’s the case), but this might be indicative of possible French Canadian roots.

Jake Park Asian American. Given his surname (“박”), like OP who wrote the post about all non-white characters said, he is Korean. Park is a common surname among (South) Koreans. In fact, it is the third most common surname in South Korea.

Nea Karlsson Caucasian American. But she has Swedish roots. Confirmed in her bio.

Laurie Strode Caucasian American. There is not much information on Laurie’s ethnicity in the movies, so I googled her surname. Apparently, it is English. 

Ace Visconti Argentinian with Italian roots. Visconti is an old Italian surname. Not sure if Ace is both Argentinian and Italian, but I assume he is an Italian man who was born in Argentinia? Although it would make more sense if he was both. 

William “Bill” Overbeck Caucasian American. The surname “Overbeck” originates from East Prussia. East Prussia was located on the southern shores of the Baltic Sea. As a German, I understand some Old Prussian. Given this fact, it is likely that Bill has both Germanic and Slavic roots. 

Feng Min Chinese. Her name is spelled “凤敏” in Chinese.

David King English. What can I say? Just an English lad.

Quentin Smith Caucasian American. His surname is English.

David Tapp African American. Likely descendant of Central and/or West African slaves since most of them originated from these areas. 

Kate Denson Caucasian American. We only know that she is from Pennsylvania. But her surname originated in Northern England. 

Adam Francis Jamaican. He is from the neighbourhood Rollington Town in Kingston, Jamaica.

Jeff Johansen  Canadian. But it is stated that he has Norwegian roots. His surname is Scandinavian anyway.

Jane Romero Latin American. Her mother’s maiden name was Lawrence. That’s an ancient Anglo-Saxon surname. Her mother might have been European. The Surname “Romero” originated in Spain. So it is not clear which part of South America her father is exactly from. There is also a possibility that her mother is Latin American as well and not fully European. 

Killers

Evan MacMillan (The Trapper) Caucasian American. MacMillan is a Scottish surname. He’s likely of Scottish descent.

Philip Ojomo (The Wraith)  African. Likely from Nigeria. “Ojomo” is a Nigerian name. Apparently, it means “change, freedom, risk.” 

Max Thompson Jr. (The Hillbilly) Caucasian American. His surname originated in England and Scottland.

Sally Smithson (The Nurse) Caucasian American. Her surname is Anglo-Saxon, specifically English.

Michael Myers (The Shape) Caucasian American. His surname has Dutch, English, and German origins. It can even be traced back to Old Norse. “Myrr” means “marsh” in Norrønt. 

Freddy Krueger (The Nightmare)  Caucasian American. His surname always sounded so German to me! Apparently, it is from Middle High German. In German, it would be written “Krüger.” So, he is likely of German origin. 

Lisa Sherwood (The Hag) African. It’s likely that she is from Central or West Africa.

Herman Carter (The Doctor) African American. Likely from Central or West Africa. 

Anna (The Huntress) Russian. Her name is spelled “Анна” in Russian. And the lullaby she sings is an old Russian lullaby for kids called ‘Bayu Bayushki Bayu.’

Bubba Sawyer (Leatherface) Caucasian American. His surname has British origins. 

Amanda Young (The Pig) Caucasian American. Her surname is common in England, Northern Ireland, and Scotland. Given that the word is derived from “yunge, yonge” in Middle English, and we have the word “jung, Junge” in German, it’s safe to say she is Germanic.

Jeffrey Hawk (The Clown)  Caucasian American. His surname has English origins. 

Rin Yamaoka (The Spirit) Japanese. She is from Kagawa, which is a prefecture in Japan. It is located on the Shikoku islands in the northeast of Japan.

F. J. S. J. (The Legion) Now, the gang’s complicated. And this post convinced me. I agree with what the respective user said. So Frank Morrison is very likely First Nation, Julie is white Canadian, Susie is First Nation as well, and Joey is black Canadian.

Adiris (The Plague) Babylonian. Modern-day Babylonia would be located in the Middle East, specifically between Baghdad (city in Iraq) and the Persian Gulf, located in West Asia.

[infinitalia]

Ash Song

Chapter Four | Mysterious Ways

First chapter / previous chapter

Summary: On the 5th of November, 2010, England went missing. The other nations searched everywhere for him but their efforts were in vain. On the 5th of November, 2015, England reappears, unaware of what has happened to him over the last five years. But he has changed- and as the memories start to resurface, he begins to recall just why he was running in the first place. USUK.

Warnings/info: Novel length fic, still in progress, not romance centric, incredibly slow burn, deranged 2Ps, occasional mild violence, psychological horror, mentions of PTSD. Any potential triggering chapters will be tagged appropriately. More info here.

This fic can alternatively be found on AO3 and FF.net

-

Neither England nor Scotland mention the episode the night before.

As the two of them sit down to eat the breakfast the hotel room service has provided, Scotland looks as if he's itching to ask about the nightmare England woke up screaming from. It really has been a while since something like that happened. A long time.

'It's strange,' England says suddenly.

'What is?' Scotland asks.

'No one else seems to wonder about it. The snow.'

Scotland frowns. 'What snow?'

'It was snowing when I left,' England elaborates. 'On the fifth of November, 2010.'

'Freak weather,' Scotland mutters, remembering the news.

'But it was snowing when I came back, too. On the fifth of November, 2015.'

Scotland's eyes widen. England's right, after all. That is strange. Not just the fact that it never snows in November, but the fact that it snowed on the same night on two separate occasions, with exactly five years in between. The night England disappeared and the night he came back.

'Did this honestly not occur to you?' England asks.

'Sure, it was on the news and everything. People were marvelling at how it could happen exactly five years apart. But I was too overwhelmed on both occasions, funnily enough. The first time I thought yeh'd vanished forever. The second time I was in shock over the fact that yeh'd come back.'

'But also,' England continues. 'Fifth of November.'

'Yeah...?'

'It could have been any night. Any night of the year. And it was Bonfire Night. A national celebration. Doesn't that strike you as odd?'

He can see that Scotland's mind is at work here. It's obvious now. There's no way that any of this is down to coincidence. Something peculiar is at work.

'You don't think it's...' England pauses for a second, thinking through what he's going to say. 'You don't think it's... magic?'

Scotland scoffs. 'Yeah. Right.'

'How else would you explain it? Snow, at the beginning of November, happening twice on the same night, five years in between. And the fact that I went missing?'

'Yeh think yer disappearance has something to do with magic?' Scotland sounds extremely sceptical.

'Why not?' England says defensively.

'Because,' Scotland replies, rolling his eyes. 'It's not possible.'

England looks furious. 'Oh. Are you pretending magic doesn't exist now, Scotland? Sod it, you have magic! How can you forget that?'

'I'm not saying I've forgotten or I don't believe,' Scotland mutters. 'Far from it. I'm saying, there ain't enough magic in this world to pull something like that off. There are barely any nations who actually have magic-'

'Norway,' England says. 'Romania.'

'And do yeh think they had something to do with this?'

'No. But you're ruling this out too quickly. You have magic. So do Wales and Ireland. And, of course, me. Magic hasn't died out.'

'And none of us had anything to do with what happened to yeh,' Scotland says. 'None of us have enough power, anyway. I don't know how strong Norway and Romania are, but Ireland and Wales have barely got any left, and I can't do much more than them. Yeh were always the best at magic. Yeh were always the strongest.'

'You think I did whatever it was to myself?' England asks.

'No. I just don't think this is to do with magic. Like I said, there ain't enough magic in this world.'

And what if it wasn't from this world? England thinks to himself, then frowns internally. Why the hell would he think that? What does that even mean?

-

There's definitely something watching him.

Scotland senses nothing. He's too busy getting all flustered about collecting all his documents together for the G8. And about getting there on time. And about England in general.

'Yeh need to do what I tell yeh,' he says. 'I'll sort this all out.'

England only packs one thing for the G8. He slides his dagger into the pocket of his coat and hopes Scotland or anyone else won't notice. Something's watching him. Something is following him. England is ready to run at any given notice. He just needs one reason to do it and he will escape. But he can't. He's beginning to acknowledge the emotional consequences of his actions.

Despite his previous beliefs, his brothers obviously do care about him. Even if it's just a little bit. Otherwise, they wouldn't be trying to help him. And although they don't verbally reveal much, they imply pretty heavily that they were upset when England disappeared.

Who knows how they would react if he would to run away and ultimately disappear again?

They finally arrive at the building where the G8 meeting is taking place. England is nervous. Not because of his impending return into the other nations' lives. More to do with whatever's following him. He knows he's not just being paranoid. There's definitely something here. Something bad. Something just out of sight.

'Yeh should wait in here until I've spoken to the other nations about yeh,' Scotland suggests as he and England arrive on the second floor and Scotland motions over to what appears to be a library. 'Yeh could probably amuse yerself in there until I've had a chance to explain everything. They obviously won't believe a word I say but at least I'll have time to focus the conversation on yeh.'

England doesn't argue. He doesn't mind being alone in the library, and at least now he might be able to figure out exactly what it is that's following him around.

They're about half an hour earlier than they need to be and none of the other nations have shown up yet. Not even the host, America, although that's probably to be expected- he's usually the last one to show up. That probably hasn't changed in the five years England has been away...

'I could give you hell and it won't make a difference, will it?'

England frowns and places one hand over his scarred chest and the other over the pocket he's stored his knife in. The words have been echoing inside his head since the first bad dream, back when he first realised he'd been tortured at some point. He sighs and walks around the library for a while, and is dismayed to find that most of the room's contents are just files on previous meetings in this building and there aren't actually that many books.

There is, however, a mirror. It's not as fancy as the golden framed one on the fourth floor of the hotel, but this one is bigger, with a dark wooden frame. England tenses up when he sees his reflection glaring back warily. He steps closer, looking directly into his own eyes. Green, like they're meant to be. The frown's there too. Good.

Maybe I'm just going crazy. Crazier than I already was. I mean, they've always called me insane. Maybe they're right. Perhaps I truly am.

It would explain why he's hearing voices inside his head and why he's hallucinating. But something terrible did happen to him. The scars, the knife, the dreams... they're all proof.

'Miss us?' says his reflection casually.

England stares at the warped image of himself. Those eyes of his, now electric blue again, seem to sparkle.

'No,' he says, figuring that this is probably the best answer to give.

The reflection giggles. 'Oh well.'

In an instant, the glass of the mirror is shrouded in darkness. It's like looking into a rectangle of a pitch black void. England takes a step back in shock, no longer able to see a reflection of himself or anything else in the room. Black smoke begins to billow from the edges of the mirror, seeping out of the glass and into the air. England immediately reaches into his pocket for his knife but it's already too late. A cloud of black smoke erupts from the mirror and crashes into England. It's definitely as solid substance, despite appearances.

England topples over and crashes to the ground, quickly slashing with his knife in an effort to protect himself. The smoke swirls above his head, emitting a screeching noise that sounds almost like a demonic cackle. From the waves of darkness, the creature, whatever the hell it is, seems to look back with two ruby orbs, practically glowing in contrast to the black smoke. With one last hissing chuckle, the creature throws itself forwards with furious pace, heading towards the door to the library and leaving England behind, still lying on the ground with his knife out.

A loud crashing noise tells England that the creature has smashed its way through the doors and has been released from the room. He quickly pushes himself to his feet and then doubles over in pain. He feels winded- there is a massive bruise forming all over his chest from where that creature slammed into him. Whatever it is, its powerful. As he looks down, he can see the suit and the shirt he's wearing have slices as if tiny blades have been raked across them. There are even spots of blood here and there. Somehow the smoke has a sharp edge to it, making the creature all the more dangerous.

The door has been completely blasted off its hinges and the creature is nowhere to be seen. But England's certain of one thing- just like all the other instinctive things he's been certain of since he came back.

It's heading for the other countries.

-

 Scotland wasn't joking when he told England that he understood why the latter always hated world meetings so much.

He's only being doing this for five years but he's already so sick of the conferences, the business trips and all the other duties he had to start fulfilling when his younger brother went missing. It's not so much because of how tiring everything is (that's a whole different matter). It's more to do with how frustrating it is to have to engage in debates with a load of people who never listen.

Only seven people to deal with today, though. Seven people and a paranoid, delusional, bordering on dangerous younger brother.

Fun.

He is correct in thinking that he and England were the first to arrive here. Germany and Italy show up a mere ten minutes afterwards and the rest file in over the next few minutes. Even America shows up relatively on time. They all greet each other with varying levels of enthusiasm, ranging from Italy's bubbly nature to Canada's attempts to get anyone to even notice him.

'At least I might not have to bother with these bloody meetings anymore,' Scotland mutters.

'You going somewhere, dude?' America asks, taking as seat next to the redhead. The blonde is comfortably munching away on a burger and seems oblivious (surprise, surprise) to the reluctance to be here that most of the nations are rather prominently displaying.

'I've, er, got good news. Sort of...' Scotland replies. Yeah, England's return definitely counts as good news. On the other hand, they still have no suitable explanation for what even happened. And of course, the scars and the paranoia. Should Scotland mention those parts to the other nations?

He waits a short while until Germany has managed to get everyone to shut up.

'If we could all settle down, that would be appreciated.' Germany already looks irritated. It's no wonder by this point. 'Is there anything anyone wishes to say before we begin?'

'Yeah, I got something,' Scotland says, getting to his feet. Everyone stares at him in confusion. Normally, Scotland stays sulking in his chair throughout these affairs and only ever offers narcissistic comments. Like an even more pessimistic, slightly less active version of England.

'Will it take long?' Germany asks.

'Probably, yeah. It's, uh... well, it's a bit unexpected.'

Hardly any of them are paying attention. America is still munching on his burger and is chatting away to Japan. Italy is happily telling a story to France and Russia just smiles innocently.

Scotland clears his throat. 'Listen, yeh idiots, I didn't fly all the way over here with a living, walking, improbable hazard to discuss the bloody weather.'

'Still raining where you live, I would imagine,' France says with a chuckle.

Scotland rolls his eyes. He does this even more than usual during meetings with other nations. 'It's important and yeh all better start listening because I ain't repeating myself. I thought it would be better if I warned yeh all first.'

'Warn us about what?' Canada says in a whisper. Nobody hears him.

Scotland scratches the back of his head. Most of the others have at least acknowledged that he is talking now, which is something. 'So, a situation arose just over a week ago that we didn't see comin'. And, well, it's pretty surprising.'

They're listening now. All of them. Good.

'We're not sure how or why it even happened in the first place, but-'

A loud crash resonates from somewhere downstairs, on the second floor by the sound of it.

'Bloody hell,' Scotland curses. What the hell is England doing down there? He considers venturing downstairs to see what his little brother has gotten up to but the crash is accompanied by a shrieking noise which seems to grow louder and louder as the source gets closer to the meeting room.

'What the hell is that?' Germany exclaims, getting to his feet in shock.

America springs to his feet too, staring wide-eyed at the door. 'Dude, it sounds like a frickin' ghost!'

The piercing noise reaches the door and a new explosion rips through the air as the nations quickly dive under the table to escape the debris shooting in every direction. Peering out from behind a chair, Scotland's eyes widen as he catches sight of a black smoky mass with glowing red slits for eyes hovering in the massive whole in the wall where the door once stood.

Italy screams and many of the others cry out in shock too. 'What is that thing?' France yells.

Japan's eyes are wide in horror. 'I- I do not know-'

The creature gives a sort of hissing cackle and advances into the room.

The nations crawl out from their hiding spots and back away against the far wall, too shocked to do anything else. The creature's movements radiate a menacing intention as it progresses into the room, still hissing in anticipation. It still resembles nothing more than a black cloud, yet it is obviously powerful- after all, it completely blew the door apart.

As much as Scotland doesn't want to admit it, this is definitely some sort of dark magic.

And England...?

The only person with magic powerful enough to conjure something like this is England. Did he do this? If so, why? And if that isn't the case (which Scotland sincerely hopes so), then who did conjure it? And that explosion they heard before, the one downstairs, came from where England is right now. Which means this creature must have confronted him. This creature might have done something to him.

'What a strange creature,' Russia says calmly, but even he isn't smiling.

'Guys! Someone call 911!' America squeaks in a high pitched voice.

'Whatever the hell this thing is, the humans won't be able to help,' Scotland mutters, eyeing the creature's every move. The entity is approaching slowly, almost as if it's analysing the nations before whatever it has planned next.

'Germany- Germany, what do we do?' Italy squeals fearfully.

'We- we-' Germany is at a loss for words.

'Is it planning an attack of some kind?' Japan asks.

'It would appear so,' Russia says.

'We- we outnumber it, though,' France says in a shaky voice. 'That's something...'

'Dude, it just blew a frickin' whole in the wall!'

'We still don't even know what it is,' Canada whispers, too anxious about the situation to even care about whether anyone heard him.

'We just need to remain calm and formulate a strategy to... remove it,' Germany says.

Scotland bites his lip. He has magic, of course. More than Ireland and Wales. Nowhere near as much as England. There's no way he would be able to expel this creature with his own abilities. If England were to help him, perhaps...

But how to get to his brother? There's a large, menacing, unknown entity blocking his only route.

'Germany-san is right,' Japan says. 'There is no use in us panicking.'

The creature reaches the centre of the room, hovering over the table. It surveys the nations, all pressed against the wall opposite it, and seems to contemplate its next move.

'It's gonna attack us,' Scotland warns the others. 'We're gonna have to try and run or something.'

'Heroes don't-'

'Really not a good time to be spouting yer hero shite, America,' Scotland says. 'This thing is obviously dangerous. 'If yeh go up against this thing, yeh're probably not gonna be standin' by the end.'

America is trembling but seems to cling onto what he was trying to say. 'But we gotta do something about it...'

The creature's form shifts slightly and its ruby orbs seem to fix on America. The nation gulps and takes a step to the side, heading towards the corner of the room and away from the other nations. The creature follows him slowly.

'Don't,' Scotland calls out. 'Don't let it single you off.'

'It's following me,' America panics.

'America!' Canada cries out in as loud a voice as he can muster.

The entity lunges forwards and America quickly dives out the way. With an almighty crash, the creature breaks through the wall and fills the room with dust and even more debris. Instead of falling down to the ground below, the creature dives back into the room and this time targets the rest of the nations, who stand huddled in a group, staring is shock. They quickly scatter in panic and the entity gives chase, marking different targets as new victims every few seconds.

Each nation tries heading for the door but the creature gets there first. The countries stand, frozen in shock and fear as the entity lets out another hissing laugh before it suddenly tenses and quietens. Then it lets out a piercing shriek and dissolves into the air, the darkness of its mass lightening into nothing and revealing a figure standing behind it, wielding a knife and in a fighting stance, the blade pointing into the spot where the creature once existed.

Scotland lets himself breathe a sigh of relief for two reasons. One, England's alright (though his shirt's torn and there appears to be spots of blood on his clothing) and two, the creature is dead. On the other hand, it looks like England managed to sneak his knife with him after all.

Also, this really isn't how Scotland was planning to reintroduce England to the other nations. These last few minutes have been shocking enough without them all embracing the fact that someone has seemingly returned from the dead (well, America was sort of right after all about a ghost being here)...

There aren't any shocked screams or anything. The other nations simply stare with wide eyes at the spot where an other worldly creature just dissipated, the same spot that is now being occupied by a long lost country.

But England isn't looking back at them. He holds out his knife and glares at Scotland. 'Told you I'd need this.'

[lesbianbeiovaz]

Parallel: From Another World 6/34

So it's been a while since the last chapter, I haven't completed anything for my fics in about a month(?) There's been a lot going on and I've just wanted to chill and let things happen to be honest, however, I do have this chapter which I think is great. Tooth and Claw is definitely one of my favourite episodes from series 2. Enjoy! <3

Rita Stone lives in our world. The world where a big blue box bigger on the inside is simply impossible. However, this all changes after what is most definitely an impossible event. Then again nothing is impossible with the Doctor. Follow Rita through time and space, learning about herself while struggling to comprehend her new life travelling with the Doctor and his companions.

AO3 | CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12

"What do you think of this? Will it do?" Rose walked over to the console spinning around a little in her denim dungarees, Rita wrinkled her nose, personally thinking that it didn't suit the blonde.

"I prefer my new grey jeans with my plaid shirt and leather jacket, not to mention my new shoes" Rita laughed pointing at the new maroon vans on her feet remembering what happened to her red ones.

"You sure like vans don't you" Rose laughed.

"Yep" Rita popped the 'p'

"You can't wear that where we're going" the Doctor chuckled at Rita.

"You wear that suit all the time" Rita exclaimed crossing her arms over her chest and sighing, leaning on the TARDIS. "Where are we going anyways?" Rita raised a brow curiosity getting the better of her.

"Somewhere where you can't wear that" Rose laughed at her own comment.

"1979" The Doctor answered the brunettes question.

"Still not changing Doctor" Rita grinned "If you can get away with that suit with them Conversers in 1979 I can get away with what I am wearing" she gave a smug look, the Doctor being defeated smirked back at her.

"Very well then. Hold on, listen to this" he commented and then popped a CD into the TARDIS which then began to play. "Ian Dury and the Blockheads. Number One in 1979." He told the pair.

"You're a punk" Rose laughed at him.

"Hey, this isn't so bad" Rita nodded her head in thought.

"It's good to be a lunatic."

"That's what you are." Rose pointed and laughed "A big old punk with a bit of rockabilly thrown in." She waved her finger up and down at him Rita shook her head and chuckled at Rose.

"Would you like to see him?" The Doctor asked Rose.

"How'd you mean?" Rose asked "In concert?"

"What else is a TARDIS for?" He began to walk around the console, Rita behind him and Rose on the opposite side. "I can take you both to the Battle of Trafalgar, the first anti-gravity Olympics, Caesar crossing the Rubicon or Ian Dury at the Top Rank, Sheffield, England, Earth, 21st November, 1979. What do you think?" He grinned at them.

"Sheffield it is." Rose caught up with them and stood on the right side of the Doctor, Rita to his left, he looked over at Rita and raised a brow.

"Sheffield it is then." She agreed the Doctor smiled smugly at them both.

"Hold on tight." He pressed buttons on the console while turning knobs and pulling levers. He then brought out a large hammer and starts to hit the TARDIS to the beat of the music.

"I don't think she likes it when you do" Rita began but then was thrown to the floor on her back along with the Doctor and Rose. "That" She blinked and then looked over at the Doctor and then Rose.

The Doctor jumped up and placed the hammer down then helped Rose and Rita to their feet who followed him to the doors of the TARDIS while picking up his coat jacket on the way. "1979. Hell of a year." He grins at the both Rita then frowns

'You mean 1879' the brunette thought to herself.

"China invades Vietnam. The Muppet Movie. Love that film. Margaret Thatcher. Urgh." The Doctor shook his head slightly shivering. "Skylab falls to Earth, with a little help from me." He winked at the two "Nearly took off my thumb." He then exited the TARDIS followed by Rose and then Rita who already had her hands halfway in the air. "And I like my thumb. I need my thumb. I'm very attached to-" He stopped talking at the sound of well over 5 rifles being cocked and pointed in the trio's direction.

"My thumb" He finished raising his hands. "1879. Same difference." Rita shook her head

"Big difference" she whispers closely watching the men who were on horses and standing pointing their guns at the three.

"You will explain your presence." The man on a black horse the closest to the three "And the nakedness of this girl as well as this ones strange clothes" The Doctor caught on and began to use a Scottish accent which honestly sounded like he was from Scotland.

"Are we in Scotland?" He asked.

"How can you be ignorant of that?" The man on the horse frowned. Rita had to cover her mouth with her hands to stop her from laughing at the Doctors accent which she noticed sounded a lot like David Tennant's natural accent.

"Oh, I'm, I'm dazed and confused." he continued the accent looking over at Rita and winking "I've been chasing this, this wee naked child over hill and over dale." He looked over at Rose "Isn't that right, ya timorous beastie?"

"Och, aye! I've been oot and aboot." Rose tried to copy the Doctor but failed, Rita couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a chuckle.

"No don't do that" he dropped the accent shaking his head, Rita then snorted trying to stop her laughter.

"Hoots mon." Rose continued Rita then laughed louder.

"No. Really don't. Really" The Doctor shook his head then turned to Rita who then stopped laughing turning all serious.

"And what is wrong with her?" The man turned to Rita although she had stopped laughing you could see that she was desperately trying to hold another laugh in.

"Oh, she was with the wee naked child, wouldn't leave without her" He made up in a Scottish accent once again.

"Will you identify yourself, sir?" The man asked the Doctor.

"I'm Doctor James McCrimmon, from the township of Balamory. I have my credentials, if I may." He reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out the psychic paper and then held it up to the man on the horse.

"As you can see, a Doctorate from the University of Edinburgh. I trained under Doctor Bell himself." He took the psychic back a rather posh British female voice was then heard from the carriage.

"Let them approach" it ordered.

"I don't think that's wise, ma'am." The man on the horse recommended.

"Let them approach" she repeated.

"You will approach the carriage," He then ordered and the three walked over to the carriage following his orders. "And show all due deference." A footman then opened the door to reveal Queen Victoria.

"Rita, Rose," The Doctor beamed widely "might I introduce her Majesty, Queen Victoria. Empress of India and Defender of the Faith."

"Rose Tyler, Ma'am." Rose bowed before the Queen "And my apologies for being so naked."

"Rita Stone, Ma'am." Rita copied her friend. "apologies for.." she paused Queen Victoria raised a brow. "my strange clothes"

"I've had five daughters. It's nothing to me." She chuckled addressing them both "But you, Doctor. Show me these credentials." The Doctor then handed over the psychic paper to her, she looked over the psychic paper and frowned "Why didn't you say so immediately?" The Doctor then frowned in confusion" It states clearly here that you have been appointed by the Lord Provost as my Protector."

"Does it?" He questioned and then corrected himself "Yes, it does. Good. Good." he nodded "Then let me ask - why is Your Majesty travelling by road when there's a train all the way to Aberdeen?"

"A tree on the line" Queen Victoria replied.

"An accident?" Rita shook her head while Queen Victoria corrected Rose's guess: "I am the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Everything around me tends to be planned."

"An assassination attempt?" The Doctor raised his brows and nodded his head forward slightly.

"What, seriously? There are people out to kill you?" Rose questioned not believing what she was hearing.

"I'm quite used to staring down the barrel of a gun." She commented very seriously.

"Sir Robert MacLeish lives but ten miles hence. We've sent word ahead. He'll shelter us for tonight, then we can reach Balmoral tomorrow." The man informed the three.

"This Doctor, his timorous beastie and the girl in strange clothes will come with us." The trio smiled brightly at the Queen and nodded.

"Yes, Ma'am. We'd better get moving - it's almost nightfall." The man agreed.

"Indeed. And there are stories of wolves in these parts. Fanciful tales intended to scare the children. But good for the blood, I think. Drive on!"

The carriage then slowly began to move and the three walked behind following.

"It's funny, though because you say assassination and you just think of Kennedy and stuff." Rose thought out loud "Not her."

"1879? She's had, oh, six attempts on her life? And I'll tell you something else." He laughed "We just met Queen Victoria!"

"We did" Rita laughed.

"I know!" Rose giggled

"What a laugh!" The Doctor commented looking at the two girls beside him.

"Never thought I would meet the Queen." Rita told the too "You're impossible Doctor" Rita shook her head and smiled Rose did the same.

"Oh but you both love it really" He smirked at the two.

"She was just sitting there." Rose thought aloud again.

"Like a stamp" Rita commented.

"I want her to say we are not amused." Rose chuckled "I bet you five quid I can make her say it." She turned to Rita and then the Doctor

"Well, if I gambled on that, it'd be an abuse of my privileges of traveller in time." He said. "Plus Rita knows the future foreknowledge and all" He waved his arm in the air.

"Foreknowledge" Rita mumbled frowning.

"Like knowing something is going to happen before it does, that's foreknowledge"

"Oh" Rita nods in understanding.

"Ten quid?" Rose looked at the Doctor.

"Done" he smiled.

The three linked arms and continued to follow the carriage holding Queen Victoria in it, they joked around and told stories to each other on the way, Rita telling them both more about her life before meeting the pair.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Your Majesty." A man walked out cautiously with a bold man a frown plastered on his face behind him. Rita looks down sadly knowing what was to happen to the man and most of the people in the house later today. There was nothing Rita could do and she knew that. The Doctor noticed her looking down with a sad expression he gently squeezed her hand to comfort the girl, Rita looked up at him and gave a sad smile to try and reassure him that she was ok.

"Sir Robert." Queen Victoria exited the carriage "My apologies for the emergency. And how is Lady Isobel?" She asked unaware of what was going on inside the house.

"She's" he paused thinking of the word to use "indisposed, I'm afraid. She's gone to Edinburgh for the season." he then tried to warn her: "And she's taken the cook with her. The kitchens are barely stocked. I wouldn't blame Your Majesty if you wanted to ride on." The queen waved it off not seeing the worry behind the man's eyes.

"Oh, not at all. I've had quite enough carriage exercise. And this is charming, if rustic. It's my first visit to this house. My late husband spoke of it often." She paused "The Torchwood Estate." Rita's eyes shot up at the Queen she knew what the house was called but hearing it in person brought it to a whole new level. "Now, shall we go inside? And please excuse the naked girl and the girl in strange clothes".

"Sorry." Rose and Rita both muttered.

"She's a feral child. I bought her for sixpence in old London Town. Wouldn't leave without the girl in strange clothes." he explained to those who hadn't heard earlier. Rita quietly groaned "It's was her or the Elephant Man, so" Rita rolled her eyes in annoyance. The Doctor was clearly enjoying himself. "You wore the clothes not me" He leant in and whispered into her ear. Rita then groaned again knowing that he was right. The Doctor smirked at her finding the annoyed look on her face quite funny.

"Thinks he's funny but I'm so not amused." Rose narrowed her eyes at the Doctor playfully "What do you think, Ma'am?"

"It hardly matters. Shall we proceed?" Sir Robert nodded at the Queen who then headed into the house.

"So close," Rose whispered to the Doctor and Rita.

"Yet so far" Rita smirked at her.

"Makerson and Ramsey, you will escort the property. Hurry up."

"Yes, sir." they nodded and headed for the carriage then took out a small box and carried to past the three. The Doctor looked at the box as it past intrigued as to what was inside.

"So what's in there, then?" The Doctor finally asked.

"Property of the Crown. You will dismiss any further thoughts, sir." He firmly told the Doctor "The rest of you go to the rear of the house. Assume your designated positions." he ordered his men.

"You heard the orders. Positions" One of the soldiers told the others. They then all followed going around to the back of the house.

The three followed the Queen and Sir Robert up to the observatory where Queen Victoria and Sir Robert were looking at his father's telescope. Rose and Rita peered over the three now including the Doctor to admire the telescope as well. "This, I take it, is the famous Endeavour." The Queen guessed.

"All my father's work." He nodded "Built by hand in his final years. Became something of an obsession. He spent his money on this rather than caring for the house or himself."

"I wish I'd met him. I like him." The Doctors smiled at Robert and then gleamed at the telescope "That thing's beautiful. Can I?" He gestured to it if he could touch it and look at it with more detail

"Help yourself" Sir Robert approved.

"It's amazing" Rita beamed and turned to Rose who nodded in agreement.

"Your father must have been proud" Rose then added.

The Doctor walked back over standing between Rose and Rita and looked through the telescope "It's a bit rubbish." The Doctor commented shooting down the telescope and wrinkled his nose. Rita rolled her eyes at him he just shrugged back at her "How many prisms has it got?" He asked but then it himself "Way too many. The magnification's gone right over the top." He pointed out "That's stupid kind of-" he stopped and then turned to the girls "Am I being rude again?" He raised a brow in question.

"Yep," they replied in unison pursuing their lips.

"But it's pretty. It's very pretty." The Doctor pointed out turning to the two girls who nodded in agreement.

"And the imagination of it should be applauded." Queen Victoria added.

"Mmm." Rose hummed "Thought you might disapprove, Your Majesty. Stargazing. Isn't that a bit fanciful? You could easily not be amused, or something?" Rita shook her head and grinned at the blonde finding her persistence to be funny. "No?" Rita looked up at the Doctor standing on the other side of Rose, looking down and shaking his head.

"This device surveys the infinite work of God. What could be finer?" The Queen asked, "Sir Robert's father was an example to us all." She turned to the man "A polymath, steeped in astronomy and sciences, yet equally well versed in folklore and fairytales."

"Stars and magic. I like him more and more."

"I thought you didn't believe in magic" Rita whispered to him who just frowned back at her in confusion. "Secrets" she smirked.

"Oh, my late husband enjoyed his company." She continued not hearing the pair "Prince Albert himself was acquainted with many rural superstitions, coming as he did from Saxe Coburg."

"That's Bavaria." The Doctor stated.

"When Albert was told about your local wolf, he was transported." Rita's eyes shot up staring at the woman the Doctor holding the same look.

"So, what's this wolf, then?" The Doctor asked.

"It's just a story," Robert spoke up looking very uncomfortable, Rita turned to him looking at the man with pity. She couldn't take knowing his future, knowing that she wouldn't be able to change or stop it without something like a paradox being created possibly harming Rose the Doctor and herself in the process, something that she couldn't see happen.

"Then tell it." The Doctor was persistent, Rita winced a little at that hating that he couldn't see what was going on with his own eyes then again she know he had no way of knowing what was going on below them in the cellar.

Robert stuttered for a moment and turned his head in the direction of the three bold men in the doorway "It's said that-" He was cut off by the man in the middle.

"Excuse me, sir." he cut in. "Perhaps her Majesty's party could repair to their rooms. It's almost dark." he smiled innocently a little too innocently for Rita's liking knowing what he had done or was going to do she shot him a glare that he did not see.

"Of course." Robert sighed "Yes, of course."

"And then supper." the Queen nodded "And could we find some clothes for Miss Tyler and Miss Stone? I'm tired of nakedness and strange clothes."

"It's not amusing, is it?" Rose smiled at the Queen who ignored her.

She turned to Robert "Sir Robert, your wife must have left some clothes. See to it." she turned back to the trio standing beside the huge telescope "We shall dine at seven, and talk some more of this wolf." Rita silently breathed deeply thinking to herself that she would rather not talk about the wolf. "After all, there is a full moon tonight."

"So there is, Ma'am," Robert commented and then bowed. The trio and the Queen walked out the room, Rita watching Robert closely wishing that she could help the poor man as the bold men stood behind Sit Robert.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you think of the house then?" Rose asked Rita who thought for a moment sitting on the bed watching the blonde bring out clothes after clothes.

"Its, different than I thought it would be"

"Good different or bad different" Rose questioned not looking back while she scanned through the wardrobe.

"Just, different" Rita grinned at her reference to Christmas something the blonde most likely didn't think twice to remember, her face then fell as she remembered who else was in the room, her eyes darted around as she tried to remember where the housemaid was hiding.

Rose closed the wardrobe and moved over to another Rita's eyes then widened suddenly knowing what the blonde would find. The poor woman screamed and jumped back in fright as the housemaid looked at the pair scared to death.

"Hey, hey" Rita slowly walked over holding out a hand to try and calm the maid. "We're not here to hurt you" the maid cautiously stepped out of the wardrobe.

"Why were you in the wardrobe?" Rose calmly asked the woman in a soothing voice.

"They came through the house." The maid choked up tears forming in her eyes as she remembered the event. "In the excitement, they took the Steward and the Master, and my Lady."

Rose took the woman's hands and looked into her eyes Rita stood beside the woman with a hand on her shoulder trying to add as much comfort as she possibly could "Listen. we've got a friend." She spoke slowly so the woman could understand and calm down "He's called the Doctor. He'll know what to do. You've got to come with us."

"Rose we really should wait for the Doctor" Rita warned her calmly so she wouldn't scare the maid.

"No" Rose shook her head. "We should find him, he will know what to do," She said more to the woman than to Rita. "Right Rita"

"Right" she nodded knowing that she couldn't argue with Rose risking the new friendship as well as the course of events to come.

"Oh, but I can't, Miss." the maid said to Rose in a pleading voice now shaking, she looked at Rita begging for her to back the maid up Rita just slowly shook her head looking down.

"What's your name?" she asked the maid for Rose as she already knew her name.

"Flora." she choked up again, Rita moved her hand from the woman's shoulder and brought her in for a hug in an attempt to calm her.

"Flora, we'll be safe," Rose promised her, Rita knew that Rose couldn't keep that sort of promise knowing what would happen to many of the people in this house including possibly Flora. Rita couldn't remember if the poor woman died or survived the night, and she hoped it was the second option.

"There's more people arrived downstairs, soldiers and everything," Rose told her "and they can help us." She then looked into Flora's eyes and then up at Rita who nodded at the blonde before she looked back at Flora and with a serious expression told her: "I promise. Come on. Okay? Come on." She gestured for the maid and Rita to follow.

[riley1cannon]

Favorite books of 2017

A Murder is Announced, Agatha Christie; Miss Marple mystery

The Zig Zag Girl, Elly Griffiths; first in the Magic Men mysteries (Brighton, after the war; DI Edgar Stephens & Max Mephisto – if you want to picture, say, Dan Stevens and Matthew Goode, I certainly won’t object – are on the case.)

Wouldn’t It Be Deadly?, D.E. Ireland (Eliza Doolittle has to prove Henry Higgings didn’t murder someone. Yes, I know, and honestly my expectations were set really low for this one, but it was vritually free so what the heck. Turned out to be fun, however, and the main trick was fancasting the characters in my head to provide distance from the musical.)

Ghost Talkers, Mary Robinette Kowal (The Great War, mediums employed – in a scheme dreamed up by Houdini and Cona Doyle – to debrief soldiers who have passed over; a cameo by J.R.R. Tolkein; a tear jerker romance; a murder and other skullduggery to solve; and ghosts.)

Design for Dying, Renee Patrick (Our heroine, Lillian Frost, teams up with not-yet-legendary costume designer Edith Head to solve the murder of a starlet – and Lillian’s former roommate – Ruby Carroll in 1930s Hollywood. Look for cameos by Preston Sturgess, Bob Hope, and Barbara Stanwyck, along with a fun cast of original characters, and a pretty good mystery.

Rules of Murder and Death by the Book, Julianna Deering (Books one and two in the Drew Farthering Golden Age-style mysteries. One head’s up: These are from a Christian book publisher, and matters of faith do pop up. It’s not pervasive or preachy, however, so unless you just absolutely loathe even the tiniest whiff of that, you should be able to enjoy these. Example: There is a romantic subplot going on, and while things are kept chaste and above board, there is plenty of sizzle going on between Drew and Madeline.)

Lost Among the Living, Simone St. James (The author’s farewell to the 1920s, but still featuring a heroine getting to the bottom of a what’s behind a haunting.)

A Fatal Winter, G.M. Malliet (The second Max Tudor mystery, and rather better than the first, although I enjoyed that too, with a couple of reservations. Max is former MI5 agent who left the service after a mission went bad, and found a new calling as vicar Nether Monkslip. His former skill set serves him well when murder comes to his parish. If you love Grantchester, this should go over well. Frankly, Max may prove better company than Sidney does at times.)

Lois Lane: Fallout, Gwenda Bond (While I didn’t love this one as much as hoped, it was still a lot of fun. There is a strong Smallville vibe, and that’s not a bad thing.)

Holding Court, K.C. Held (The other YA title on my list. This one is a mystery, with some romance, some laughs, and twist or two along the way. It’s a stand alone title but could easily be the start of a series.)

Speaking From Among the Bones & The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches, Alan Bradley (Books five and six in the Flavia de Luce series.)

The Invisible Library, Genevieve Cogman (Librarians saving the universe, w/steampunk fanasty elements. Difficult to describe; heap of fun to read.)

Claws for Alarm & Crime and Catnip, T.C. LoTempio (Books two and three in the Nick and Nora cozy series. Nora is a former true crime reporter, now operating a sandwich shop in a fictional SoCal town; Nick is the cat who adopted her after his other human, a private eye, disappeared. If you like cozy mysteries with cats, this is a good series to check out. And in case you don’t know, cozy mysteries with cats is a huge, huge thing.)

Romancing the Duke, Tessa Dare (A romantic frolic with engaging characters, and enough substance to maintain interest. Just when you think it’s going right over the top, it doesn’t. If that make any sense. Steam rating: High.)

Foxglove Summer, Ben Aaronovitch (Wacky paranormal hijinks for Peter Grant in the English countryside. So, you know, par for the course, and enjoyable as the preceding books. Bonus points for this one for giving us some more insights into Nightingale, although the man himself doesn’t appear very often. And when am I going to get around to reading The Hanging Tree? It’s been in my to read stack for ages now...)

Indigo Slam, Robert Crais (Private eye novel featuring L.A. detective Elvis Cole and Joe Pike. This time the guys are hired by some kids to find their father. Since it’s Elvis and Joe, of course things get way more complicated.

Property of a Lady, Sarah Rayne (Another ghost story/mystery, the first in a series featuring Oxford don Michael Flint and antiques dealer Nell West. The story revolves around a creepy old house, and there are some genuine chills as Michael and Nell investigate. Their primary means of investigating involves discovering hidden documents. That begins to strain credulity a bit, but I found I coud put up with it. I will probably read more, to see if something at the end of this one is followed up in a subsequent book, and to discover if we ever actually meet Michael’s cat, Wilberforce.)

Night of the Living Deed, E.J. Copperman (Another cozy, this time with ghosts.)

Borrower of the Night, Elizabeth Peters (The first Vicky Bliss novel, and a fun intro to her and her life. John won’t turn up until the next book but there are other romantic interests. Not to mention mysterious shennanigans in a creep old castle, some shivery moments, and a bit of history along the way.)

A Familiar Tail & By Familiar Means, Delia James (Another cozy cat mystery, this time with a pinch of witchcraft as well.)

Whiskey Beach, Nora Roberts (Suspense, romance, family ties, longer than it needed to be but someone I mind that less with Nora than some other authors. Steam rating: Moderate.)

Garden of Lies, Amanda Quick (One of the things I love about AQ books is that along with the romance, we usually get a murder mystery to solve, often with paranormal elements. Another thing is, that although she has some Regencies in her backlist, she’s staked out the Victorian Era as her primary time period. Nothing against Regencies but this reader does sometimes need a break from the ton and all that. Now AQ appears to be moving into the 20th century, which this reader also applauds. Bring on the Jazz Age, baby! Anyway, I liked this one and only wish it was the start of a series of Ursula and Slater mystery romances. Oh well… Steam rating: Moderate.)

Agatha Christie: They Came to Bagdhad; A Pocketful of Rye, The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side, Murder with Mirrors, 4:50 from Paddington (The first is one of her non-series novels, a fun thriller that kept me on the edge of my seat, and also made me wish Dame Agatha had turned her hand to spy thrillers more. The rest are Miss Marple mysteries.)

Mary Stewart: This Rough Magic & Madam, Will You Talk? (This Rough Magic was a reread, and one that held up quite nicely. Young actress on holiday on Corfu, intrigue, romance, gorgeous scenery, and a charming dolphin. Madam, Will You Talk? is her first novel, but just as polished as the later ones. Young, war widowed teacher on holiday in France, brooding hero with dark past, gorgeous scenery, and even car chases. Why there aren’t a series of movies based on these books mystifies me.)

Those were the print books. Here are the ebooks that made a good impression:

Little Clock House on the Green, Eve Devon (Contemporary romantic comedy set in a quirky English village. My only complaint with this one is that certain reveals, re: the heroine’s motivations, took too long to come to light. It wasn’t a huge problem for me, though. The characters were good company. Steam level: practically Hallmark Channel.)

Murder at the Brightwell, Ashley Weaver (First book is the Amory Ames mystery, an homage to the Golden Age, and this one isn’t bonkers. Amory is at the Brightwell, a resort hotel, to help out an old friend--and one-time romantic partner--as well as evaluate the state of her marriage to husband Milo. And then of course there’s a murder. I went into this one expecting one thing to happen, re: Amory and the men in her life, and wound up rather nicely surprised at developments. The mystery was good too.

The Yankee Club, Michael Murphy (Another historical mystery. This time we’re in 1930s New York, with a private eye-turned-mystery writer back in town and getting involved in the murder of his former partner, reunited with his former girlfriend, now a Broadway star, and winding up hip deep in a conspiracy that threatens the very foundations of America. There’s some actual history to back that up, however, and it doesn’t play as over the top as it may sound. Like Design for Dying above, there are cameos by real life celebrities of the time like Cole Porter.)

Bed, Breakfast & Bones, Carolyn L. Dean (Young woman in need of a change moves to a small town on the West Coast, decided to revive the bed & breakfast, finds a body--the usual cozy formula. It’s played well here and I wouldn’t mind reading more books in the series.)

Southern Spirits, Angie Fox (This time our cozy heroine is struggling to keep her ancestral home, while she gets involved in a mystery and is assisted by both the local hunky sheriff and a ghost. I went in expecting nothing, and in fact anticipating to wind up deleting it, and wound up pleasantly surprised. An instance of: don’t judge a book by its cover.)

The Undateable, Sarah Title (Contemporary romantic comedy. A librarian finds herself part a meme that goes viral. This leads to a makeover and a quest to prove she is not the most undateable woman in San Francisco, and it is really way better than I’m making it sound. Promise. Steam level: practically Hallmark Channel.

Act Like It, Lucy Parker (Contemporary romantic comedy, set agains the background of the British theater world, and employing the fake dating trope. I loved it. Steam level: also moderate.)

Marriage is Murder, Emma Jameson (Historical mystery once more. England just before the War, and our doctor hero is sent to a small town in Cornwall, the same town his wife left behind her, and where secrets abound. They no sooner arrive than the wife is killed in a hit-and-run, and the husband left badly injured. Horrible accident or was it murder?)

There were other books–58, total–and many not listed here had their merits, but this batch were the ones that were the page turners, the don’t want to put it down and go to bed ones, the can’t wait to get back to it ones.

There were several books started and not finished; there were others started and put back the shelf to try another time. The latter, I think, is the better option. They may win me yet.

I have no reading agenda for 2018. Just more books, good books, and if I’m lucky one or two that surprise me by being so much better than they looked going in. Love when that happens.

[revolutionaryeye]

A reply to Daily Telegraph which compared 1916 leaders to ISIS

I wish to apologize. Over the past few days I’ve been guilty of some sinful thoughts. I have actually taken some pride in honoring the people who lost their lives in the fight for my country’s freedom.

I know, I know … I should be ashamed of myself. They were “terrorists,” the equivalent of Islamic State today if I was to believe what I read in your newspaper.

Those cowardly men and women stabbed the British Empire in the back at the height of the Great War, they were traitors one and all at a time when Irish people should have known that their real “enemies” were over in Germany, Austria, and Turkey.

Dublin, of course, was a “British” city, part of the greatest empire in the history of the world. It was an empire which civilized the “savages” from Egypt to India, Kenya to Pakistan, for so many years.

It was all the rebels’ fault. England was eventually going to treat Irish people with a modicum of respect. It was just a matter of time before you’d begin to treat us as equals and grant us our independence.

I know, I know. The 1916 leaders’ parents and grandparents had seen thousands of their countrymen and women perish in the Great Famine just 70 years before, but it wasn’t Britain’s fault. There was no famine. Food was still being shipped to Britain as the Irish lay dying on the roadsides.

“The executed 1916 rebels” by Jim Fitzpatrick.

We have a homelessness crisis today, so we haven’t done a great job at ruling ourselves, although there was a bit more of a homelessness crisis in the 1840s, when starving people still had to pay rent to absentee landlords in Britain.

But let’s not talk about that, or the cartoons in British magazines at the time which depicted the starving Irish peasants as a sub-human species.

You didn’t give Catholics a vote for centuries, hell you didn’t even allow them to own any land. But, of course, it was just a matter of time . . .

The “terrorists” in the GPO were murderers and you did wonders for the law and order problem by bringing in the Black ‘n’ Tans in response to their terrible uprising. Do English people even know the atrocities that raggle-taggle band of brothers carried out across my land?

I guess the Black ‘n’ Tans don’t feature too prominently in your schools’ curriculum these days. Might make for uncomfortable reading.

By executing the 1916 leaders, the British Empire was only sending out a message. It was wrong, so wrong, to take over the center of Dublin when Britain was at war and Home Rule was on the way. Eventually. Maybe not for ten years or 20 years or 50 years, but it was on the way. Eventually.

The GPO gutted after the 1916 Easter Rising.

Ireland was part of a parliamentary democracy and we all know that the MPs who sat in Westminster had the best interests of the Irish at heart.

Your columnists believe that the 1916 rebels were their era’s equivalent of Islamic State, and who am I to disagree?

Can’t imagine why my grandfather despised the British Empire after armed soldiers shot up his house in rural East Galway. You can still see the bullet holes today.

Can't imagine why his neighbor hated anything to do with Britain, after being hunted down for five years while he managed to survive "on the run" in hay sheds in rural East Galway.

Can’t imagine why the people of Ardrahan were anti-British after the Black ‘n’ Tans shot an unarmed woman dead at the door of her house as she held a baby in her arms.

Can’t imagine why the starving Irish who took the ‘Coffin Ships’ to America – and were damn lucky to survive the voyage – might have decided to send funds back to support the “rebels.”

It has taken Ireland a hundred years to come to its senses, you claim, notwithstanding the fact that millions of people of Irish descent are scattered throughout North America because of racist British policies towards my people in the 19th century.

You condemn “our” terrorists for the “collateral damage” caused by the rebels in 1916, yet I never see you question how many innocent lives were lost when Tony Blair decided to join George W. Bush in his ill-fated Afghan and Iraqi wars as recently as a decade ago.

It’s still ok, it seems, for the former empire’s forces to bomb innocent civilians thousands of miles from home in the 21st century, but not for Irish rebels to take over Irish cities and towns in order to proclaim a republic, where men, women, and children might have equal rights.

When your country kept playing the Irish along, promising but never delivering home rule, you played into the hands of the “terrorists”. Irish people instinctively knew they would never achieve freedom without spilling blood a hundred years ago.

When your empire’s forces executed the 1916 leaders, you lost all moral authority over the Irish. People would not have voted Sinn Fein en masse in the following General Election if they did not have genuine grievances over the way the country had been governed by colonizers for centuries.

It’s no fun being treated as a second class citizen in your own land – ask the people of Palestine, another country you meddled with for so long. They are still feeling the pain caused by British meddling in other people's affairs to this day.

When you continued to rule part of the island of Ireland, you played into the terrorists’ hands again in 1972, when your wonderful forces shot 14 innocent people in Derry on Bloody Sunday.

They were guilty, too. Guilty of demanding equal rights in a sectarian state, in a city where a single Protestant had a better chance of getting a Council house than a large Catholic family.

You could not have come up with a better recruitment policy for the IRA than slaughtering innocent people on that horrible January day on the Bogside. In one afternoon, you managed to turn a whole generation of young men in a run-down part of the city into "terrorists." Well done.

So spare us your observations about what a backward, priest-ridden society Ireland became after the Empire left these 26 counties.

But, in case you haven’t noticed, we have moved on. Irish people voted overwhelmingly for peace in 1998 and nobody wants to steamroll a million Unionists into a United Ireland. Not against their will, anyways.

We have a President we can be proud of, rather than a “Royal” family – what a quaint and simply absurd concept in the year 2016.

We have an army we can be proud of, who represented us on peace-keeping missions all over the world, from the Congo to the Lebanon.

We have music, games, and a culture we can be proud of, instead of going cap in hand to our bigger neighbors who treated us with disdain – and even racism – for so long.

We still have our ancient language, despite your best efforts to kill it off and to ridicule the peasants who spoke it for centuries.

We didn’t like being subservient to a Government which discriminated against us and we get on much better with the British now, don’t you think, that you treat us as equals.

So, instead of looking at the shortcomings of our revolutionary “heroes” on this side of the Irish Sea, maybe it’s time to take an uncomfortable look at your own nation’s legacy down through the centuries all across the globe.

Your Empire didn’t “civilize” the Irish, or the Indians, or the Egyptians, or Palestinians, or Malaysians . . . you raped their countries’ resources for as much as you could get and it wasn’t the natives’ fault that you left chaos in your wake, when your beloved Empire began to crumble.

But I guess you don’t teach the lessons of your own troubled history to your children. It might be just a tad too painful to examine how much pain you yourselves have caused for so many years.

Source:- https://www.irishcentral.com/opinion/others/a-reply-to-daily-telegraph-which-compared-1916-leaders-to-isis

[irelandhoneybee]

Tagged by the awesome @murdocklovespage    This was fun; thanks my dear!

1. Nickname: I actually don’t really have one.  My name is short and doesn’t really lend itself easily to nicknames.  

2. Gender: F

3. Star sign: Gemini

4. Height: 5′5″

5. Time: 6:13 pm

6. Birthday: June 16

7. Fave Bands: The Beatles (to paraphrase Paul McCartney the Beatles are first, second and third)  But other faves include Lord Huron, The Head and the Heart,   Keane, The Lumineers, HoneyHoney, The Shins, U2, Sleeping At Last (although I guess it’s mostly a solo act now), The Everly Brothers, The Avett Brothers, Counting Crows

8. Fave solo Artists:  Ingrid Michaelson, Birdy, Donovan, A Fine Frenzy, Sara Bareilles, Marvin Gaye, Hozier, Don Henley, Sia (I literally just learned last night she has a Christmas album coming out and I could not be more excited),Sting,  Adele, Paul Simon, Taylor Swift,  Gregory Alan Isakov, Ben E. King, Brandi Carlile, David Gray, Eva Cassidy, Lucy Schwartz

9. Song stuck in my head: Birdy’s cover of “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight”

10. Last Movie I Saw: In the theater: Goodbye Christopher Robin and over the weekend I re-watched one of my favorites: Good Will Hunting

11. Last Show I Saw: Finally finished Mindhunter and also got all caught up on Black Mirror.  Next up are Man in the High Castle and Alias Grace

12. Favorite Actors:  Colin Firth, Brie Larson, Greta Gerwig, Robert Downey Jr, Jack Lemmon, Michael Imperioli, Emma Thompson, Charlie Cox, Zoe Kazan, Michelle Williams, Jessica Chastain, Ethan Hawke, Jason Schwartzman, Minnie Driver, Sarah Paulson, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Gina Rodriguez, Mark Ruffalo, Rosario Dawson, Deborah Ann Woll, Adam Driver, Krysten Ritter, David Tennant

13. What do I post: Karedevil (I love my precious babies so damn much), lately a lot of autumn photography, Beatles, DuckTales, various TV, movies and books

14. Last thing I googled: “How big can my carry-on bag be?”  I’m going to be traveling over Christmas and I am not what you would call a light packer.  lol

15. Any other blogs: nope

16. Do I get asks: Rarely these days since the plagiarizer went away.  But feel free to ask; I’m always down to talk about whatever!

17. Why did I pick my URL: It’s the meaning of my first and middle names.  Erin=Ireland and Melissa (according to my cousin’s baby names book anyway)=honeybee

18. Following: 201

19. Followers: 67

20. Fave color: blues and purples

21. Fave place(s) on earth: Venice, Italy (I only spent a day there, but fell in love with it); a cafe near where I live that makes their own chocolate, and it’s such a cozy atmosphere and I just love everything about it; my couch curled up either with a book or watching TV, with the cat on my lap

22. Lucky number: 16

23. Instruments: clarinet through junior high and high school

24. Fave hobby: reading, watching tv/movies (and then analyzing them to death)

25. Crushes: Oh boy... Colin Firth, Charlie Cox, Matt Murdock (my scruffy blind ninja), Karen Page (my beautiful badass), Dorothy Zbornak (I basically want to BE Dorothy Zbornak), Jessica Jones, Marisha Pessl (my literary crush; I cannot recommend her books enough. I re-read them every single year, in fact I just started Night Film again over the weekend.  I NEVER get tired of them), Prince Harry (if he decides to ditch the beard I will sob), Fox Mulder, Dhani Harrison, David Tennant, Luke Cage,  Brie Larson (I love her so much; she’s my imaginary celebrity bff), Tony Stark, Barack and Michelle Obama, Pacey Witter, Prince Kit (from the live action Cinderella), Chris Evans (my favorite Chris)

26. Dream Career: owning my own bookshop

27. Dream Trip: England (Liverpool, and I’m dying to explore London), and Paris (mainly just to go to Shakespeare & Company.  I don’t even need to see the Eiffel Tower!  lol) and Hawaii

28. Fave anime: I have to skip this one, as I am not familiar with anime at all (I have a friend who would smack me if she read this)

29. Nationality: American

30. Fave musical: I’m not a big musical person but I do love The Wizard of Oz and Singin’ in the Rain 

Tagging @fiphigenie @trombonesinspace @musings-from-liverpool-street @lifeisjustalonelyhighway @meinhiding @hoedontblink  @karedevil4ever and anyone else who wants to.  

[depechemodespiritera]

Tell Me About It: Dave Gahan – “‘Why is your music so depressing?’ is a really lame question”

The Depeche Mode singer on crappy gigs, addiction and escaping death... twice

Words by David Zammitt  Photos by Anton Corbijn

Dave Gahan is stationed in the basement of the swanky Bulgari Hotel in Knightsbridge. As I wait outside his room in music journalist purgatory, waiting for an interview with some other mag to round up, I’m told that it shouldn’t be long but, well, unfortunately, Dave is enjoying the conversation so much that he wants to keep chatting. Maybe we’ll get on really well too, I think.

When I am finally beckoned in, Gahan welcomes me to the conference room that’s become his office for the day. He is warm, full of smiles, and even offers me a smoothie. Radioactive green, it’s a sign of the journey from Gahan’s dark days in the late ’80s and, well, most of the ’90s. It’s fair to say that the rider requests for a man who’s come through heroin addiction and bladder cancer is a little different these days. With hair slicked back, pencil moustache neatly groomed and a silver skull ring nestling on his middle knuckle, it’s hard to equate him with the 19-year-old Epping boy in the oversized suit who nervously bopped his way through ‘Just Can’t Get Enough’.

Of course, a lot of well-documented water has passed under the bridge since Gahan and Depeche Mode arrived with the synthpop agenda-setter ‘Speak & Spell’ in 1981. Fourteen studio albums is a pretty solid achievement in itself, but when you hear the context of the hurdles that had to be negotiated in order to do so, it pulls the feat into sharper focus. Through ailing health, substance abuse and a couple of run-ins with the law, Depeche Mode have somehow stayed united. Depsite the chaotic highs and creativity-sapping lows, the release of their latest LP, ‘Spirit,’ continues a run of at least one album every four years for the last 35. Impossibly, Depeche Mode have become one of British music’s most reliable forces.

As Gahan speaks in staccato – all full-stops and short and rapid-fire sentences – he flits from topic to topic and I may as well have left my nice, crisp A4 sheet of questions at home, because I barely say anything. Jumping from the band’s recent gig at Glasgow’s Barrowlands to the merits of theatre and the ethic behind Depeche Mode’s ‘depressing’ sound in the first five breakneck minutes, at 54 Gahan is full of energy. But while it can be hard to keep track, Gahan’s passion is the thread that ties our conversation together.

“The Barrowlands is a smelly, dirty old venue”

There’s not many of them left like that. We just played there for BBC 6 Music festival, but we first played there in the early ’80s – someone told me it was 1984. I remember at the time it was pretty heaving. The stage moves a bit because the floor moves a bit. So once it gets going…

It was fun to do that show last week, which was maybe an hour long – much shorter than the two-hour show that we usually do. I got a couple of texts from Bobby Gillespie that said: “perfect time.” For performing, an hour is the perfect time.

We had a beautiful few days in Glasgow. To be in England or Scotland or Ireland and it to be good weather, you actually get to see how beautiful it is, really. And I love the people up there. People in the hotel and on the street – everywhere. Good people!

“‘Why is your music so depressing?’ is a really lame question”

I recently saw the play Buried Child by Sam Shepard. I love all Sam Shepard’s stuff. They’re usually based in the American heartland and what it’s really like – not the American Dream. Buried Child is about a child who wasn’t wanted and ended up being buried in the garden and haunts the family, spiritually. So everything they do for their drunken lives is haunted by that. Some people would say that it’s a miserable story, but stories like that, to me, are real life.

It’s like, the question I’ve had to answer many, many times, is where people are like, ‘Why is your music so doomy?’ First of all, it’s a really lame question, but the answer is always the same – ‘Well, I don’t find it like that.’ I just never have. I don’t. I get that some of the subject matter is quite dark, and musically it can be quite dark, but I’ve always felt that if the lyric was really black and if we were going into some weird, dark place, there’s a melody or a sound or something there that lifts you out of that. Like in a good book, or a film – there’s a story there.

I tend to dwell there quite a lot. And it’s OK because I find that it’s the only place you can find any real light anyway. You’ve got to dig deep because all the surface bullshit – all this stuff [he lifts up his iPhone and shakes it] – is where we seem to waste our time.

“We still care about reviews”

Of course we care. The thing about reviews is that someone told me a long time ago that if you believe the good ones you’ve got to believe the bad. There’s always a bit in both and it’s all opinions.

What I liked about one review I read of the Barrowlands show was that the person was actually reviewing the sentiment in the feeling in the moment, and how they felt. And that was undeniable! If he had said anything else about that night – that he didn’t like my trousers or something – it would have been ridiculous because it was a special night. But they’re not all like that – trust me!

Sometimes someone will give me a newspaper in the morning and we’re off to the next gig, and I know it’s been a shit show the night before, or that it wasn’t quite right. The moment wasn’t really there, and someone’s seen through it. And you read it and you’re still like, ‘Fuck you!’ But they can’t all be gems. Over the years you learn that [once in a while] you have this special feeling and you look around at each other and you’re all floating on air, but most of the time you’re getting through a song and you’re thinking about something else. Well, not most of the time. But quite often towards the end of the show I’ll be thinking about whether there’s room service.

“I remember launching six or seven bottles of wine at the wall because I couldn’t drink it”

There was one time when we made the decision not to tour and that was with the album ‘Ultra’ [1997] because I definitely was not healthy enough to tour. I was trying to convince everybody that I was, and I had all good intentions but, put it this way, six months into the recording of the album, after a big session we did in New York, I went back to L.A. and then stuff happened and I ended up in jail [Gahan was arrested after overdosing on a speedball at the Sunset Marquis Hotel in 1996]. So it really was a good decision.

After that album I think we put out a greatest hits – 1998, I’m thinking. And we did some shows. For me, that was the best and the worst tour we’ve ever done because I don’t think I was in any of those performances. It was all new for me. I was no longer drinking any alcohol or using any drugs and I was like an open wound; a bag of nerves trying to fake it ‘til I made it. I had no business being on the road and I had a few moments in dressing rooms. I remember launching six or seven bottles of wine at the wall because I couldn’t drink it. That was my share and if I wasn’t going to be able to drink it then it was going to go against the wall. While the band were all in the dressing room as well. It must’ve been quite scary, thinking about it. I was not happy at this idea of being sober and that I would have to do this for the rest of my life if I wanted to keep on living. And that’s nearly 20 years ago, which is incredible in itself, although it’s not been without its bumps and bruises along the way. It’s been a real mind opener – much more than any drugs or alcohol.

“Physically, I couldn’t sing for longer than five minutes”

I remember being back at my home in L.A. after being arrested. I got a phone call – and I never picked up the phone – and it was Martin [Gore], kinda angry and kinda pissed off that we were in the middle of recording an album and I was not going to be able to leave Los Angeles for two years. If I got into trouble, I was going to jail. So they carried on working on stuff and then created sessions for when I was allowed out of this place I was in, which I’d checked myself into. I ended up staying there for six months – I was terrified of going back home because I knew what I was going to do. I made some good friends there and I went to the studio with someone who was watching over my shoulder, but it saved my life.

I couldn’t sing at that point. I mean physically, I couldn’t sing for longer than five minutes. And it was not good. There were times when I thought I was good during the first half of the making of that album, but I was probably high. I thought I was Frank Sinatra when I was up at the mic, but listening back it was like, ‘Jesus!’. So they made me work with this amazing vocal coach, Evelyn. She would only work with me – because I was a real scumbag at the time – if I would go to this church with her in downtown L.A. in a pretty rough neighbourhood in Inglewood, somewhere where she would do this thing every Sunday working with the choir. She said: ‘You come with me and sing with the whole group; you’ve gotta be part of a team!’ She was so nice and gentle with me and gave me a lot of her time. She kinda brought my voice back to me. And that album got finished.

“My wife was like: ‘What are you looking at pictures of your tumour for?’”

During the making of ‘Sounds of the Universe’ [2009] I’d not been feeling good. I had no energy a lot of the time. I would have enough energy to do the sessions in the studio and I’d get home at night and say to the wife that I was so tired. I was kind of crashing out at 9 in the evening, and I wasn’t really telling the guys. But then it all made sense when I was diagnosed.

I used to say to, Jen, my wife, ‘I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do these shows.’ So then we were in Athens and I was having excruciating pain in my gut. Well, it felt like my gut but it wasn’t. So that night the doctor came to the dressing room, five minutes before we were due on stage. I’d been throwing up a bit – I hadn’t been talking about that. Little bit of blood in my urine – I hadn’t been talking about that. I just thought all these things were wear and tear.

But I got rushed to hospital and while the doctor was doing an ultrasound he looked at me and looked at the screen again. I said: ‘I know I’m not pregnant!’ and he said ‘Well, I see something and I have to get someone else in.’ So I said: ‘What do you see?’ and he said: ‘I see a shadow.’ I’ve heard that in movies. It just so happened that there was an oncologist there and I got on the MRI and they said that they could do the surgery there and then. You have a sac in your bladder and you have another sac on the inner sac, and the cancer hadn’t got through the walls yet. It’s an amazing looking thing! My wife was like: ‘What are you looking at pictures of your tumour for?’ But it looked like a sea urchin with all these alien tentacles! It’s an amazing thing. But if they go undiagnosed and it goes into other organs you’re done, really.

“We seem to be pretending we’re not, but we’re fucking lost!”

‘Spirit’ is more of a social outlook on humanity itself, and we’re lost. We seem to be pretending we’re not, but we’re fucking lost! It’s a bit apocalyptic and bit post-apocalyptic in places, this record; ‘Cover Me’ being post-apocalyptic, ‘Fail’ being now, ‘Poison Heart’ being, you know – ‘You’re the devil and we all know it, but you’re in power!’ And then there are songs like ‘Going Backwards’ or ‘Scum’, which are just horrified at humanity, at ourselves.

Where’s the spirit? Where’s the spirit in really caring? And people say, you know, ‘It’s easy for you guys in your fancy houses,’ but like Martin has said, just because you’ve had some success it doesn’t mean you have to stop caring about what you see and feel. And you do the best you can. The way we can portray how we feel is through music, through art. And ultimately we’re here to entertain you but to maybe entertain you with a sense of reflecting. This is not a record that’s ramming something down your throat. This is not Billy Bragg.

(via Tell Me About It: Dave Gahan – “‘Why is your music so depressing?’ is a really lame question” - Loud And Quiet)