#good places to visit in india

[forcenewz]

20 Best Places to Visit in India 2024

Are you planning to visit the best places to explore in india? In this blog, ForceNewz shares the 20 best places to visit in india with images and provides a list of the best time to visit the best places. Explore the stunning tourist places in india. Check the best months to visit Varanasi Uttar Pradesh india here!

[girlivealwaysbean]

sometimes i miss talking to that one person who didn't NEVER turned it into a competition about who has it worse and never told me well atleast you have [x]

[helloraahi27]

Why Should You Explore Best Places to Visit in India in May Month?

May in India. For many, it conjures images of scorching sun and sweltering temperatures. But what if I told you there's another side to the story? May, in fact, is the perfect shoulder season to explore a treasure trove of destinations across this vast and vibrant country. Here's why you should consider a trip to best places to visit in India in may month:

Pleasant Weather: Escape the Brunt of Summer

While the plains do experience rising temperatures, many regions in India offer a welcome respite. Hill stations like Munnar, Manali, and Dalhousie in the Himalayas boast comfortable weather, ideal for sightseeing and outdoor activities. Imagine lush green valleys bathed in sunshine, perfect for leisurely walks or adventurous hikes. Kashmir, the "Paradise on Earth," comes alive in May with blooming flowers and verdant landscapes, offering a picturesque escape.

Avoiding the Crowds: Shoulder Season Serenity

May falls between the peak tourist seasons of winter and monsoon. This translates to fewer crowds at popular attractions, allowing you to truly soak in the beauty and culture of each place. You'll have more breathing space to explore palaces, temples, and historical sites without feeling rushed. This also means potentially better deals on flights and accommodation, making your trip more budget-friendly.

Adventure Awaits: Embrace the Outdoors

The pleasant weather in May makes it an ideal time to indulge in outdoor activities. Trekking enthusiasts can conquer trails in Himachal Pradesh, Ladakh, or the Western Ghats. Adventure seekers can try their hand at paragliding in Bir Billing or white water rafting on the Ganges in Rishikesh. The sky's the limit, with options catering to all experience levels.

A Glimpse of Diverse Landscapes: From Mountains to Beaches

India's geographical diversity allows you to choose your perfect escape in May. Craving cool mountain air? Head north to Kashmir or Himachal Pradesh. Yearning for serene beaches? The pristine shores of Andaman and Nicobar Islands or Goa await. Want to explore rolling hills and cascading waterfalls? Look no further than Shillong, the "Scotland of the East," or Coorg, known as India's "Coffee Capital."

Cultural Delights: Festivals and Local Experiences

May coincides with several vibrant festivals across India. Witness the Rath Yatra in Puri, Odisha, a colorful chariot procession celebrating Lord Jagannath. Immerse yourself in the soulful music festival of Rajasthan or the traditional dance performances of Kerala. Local markets come alive with vibrant colors and unique souvenirs, offering a glimpse into the rich tapestry of Indian culture.

A Culinary Adventure: Fresh Seasonal Flavors

May brings a bounty of fresh produce to Indian kitchens. Sample delicious regional dishes made with seasonal ingredients. Savor the delicate flavors of mangoes, a quintessential summer fruit in India. Explore street food stalls for a taste of local life, or indulge in a luxurious fine-dining experience showcasing the country's culinary heritage.

Planning Your Perfect May Escape:

Here are some tips to ensure a smooth and enjoyable trip to India in May:

Research your destination: Different regions have varying weather patterns. Choose a place that aligns with your preferences.

Book your accommodation in advance: Popular destinations might see a rise in tourist activity during May.

Pack light, breathable clothing: Be prepared for warm days and potentially cooler evenings depending on your location.

Stay hydrated: Carry a reusable water bottle and stay hydrated throughout the day, especially during outdoor activities.

Embrace the culture: Be respectful of local customs and traditions.

So, ditch the preconceived notions about May in India. With its pleasant weather, diverse landscapes, cultural experiences, and adventure opportunities, May offers a unique travel window to explore the wonders of this incredible country.  Pack your bags and get ready to create memories that will last a lifetime!

[sanverma123]

Best Desert Camp in Jaisalmer.

Jaisalmer is one of the most visited tourist cities in the Rajasthan state. It is located very much near the India-Pakistan border, which adds to its charm and importance. The place is good for both, a short holiday and an elaborate vacation. Best desert camp in Jaisalmer

It’s not just the Desert Camp in Jaisalmer or the luxury Swiss Tent camping, but there’s a lot more to it that can guarantee you the most enjoyable vacation of your life. Come visit us and you will have a distinct perspective on this magnificent Golden city that you will always fascinate with our loved ones. We are known for outstanding service and great facilities.

[worstjourney]

The Millennials' Polar Expedition

A year ago today (23 Nov 2022), I launched Worst Journey Vol.1 at the Scott Polar Research Institute. This is the text of the speech I gave to the lovely people who turned up to celebrate.

As many of you know, my interest in the Terra Nova Expedition was sparked by Radio 4’s dramatisation of The Worst Journey in the World, now 14 years ago.  The story is an incredible story, and it got its claws into me, but what kept me coming back again and again were the people.  I couldn’t believe anyone so wonderful had ever really existed.  So when I finally succumbed to obsession and started reading all the books, it was the expedition members’ own words which I most cherished.  These were not always easy to come by, though, so plenty of popular histories were consumed as well.  Reading both in tandem, it soon became clear that, while there were some good books out there, there was a lot of sloppy research in the polar echo chamber as well.

I also discovered that no adaptation had attempted to get across the full scope of the expedition.  There has never been a full and fair dramatic retelling, all having been limited by time, budget, or ideology from telling the whole story truthfully.  I was determined that my adaptation would be both complete and accurate, and be as accountable as possible to those precious primary documents and the people who wrote them.

So the years of research began.  I moved to Cambridge to be able to drop in at SPRI and make the most of the archives.  Getting to Antarctica seemed impossible, but I went to New Zealand to get at least that much right, and on the way back stayed with relatives in Alberta, the most Antarctic place I could realistically visit.  I gathered reference for objects wherever I could.  Because Vol.1 takes place mainly on the Terra Nova, which is now a patch of sludge on the seabed off Greenland, I cobbled together a Franken-Nova in my mind, between the Discovery up in Dundee and the Star of India in San Diego.  I spent a week on a Jubilee Sailing Trust ship in order to depict tall-ship sailing correctly.  I’m sure I’ve still got loads of things wrong, but I did all I could, to get as much as I could, right.

But still, everyone I met who had been to Antarctica said, “you can’t understand Antarctica until you’ve been there, and you can’t tell the story without understanding Antarctica; you have to go.”  So I applied to the USAP’s Antarctic Artists and Writers Program, with faint hope, as they do “Ahrt” and I draw cartoons.  But I must have blagged a good grant proposal, because a year after applying, I was stepping out of a C-17 onto the Ross Ice Shelf.  The whole trip would have been worth it just to stand there, turn in a circle, and see how all the familiar photographs fit together.  But the USAP’s generosity didn’t stop there, and in the next month I saw Hut Point, Arrival Heights, the Beardmore Glacier (including the moraine on which the Polar Party stopped to “geologise”), and Cape Crozier, and made three visits to the Cape Evans hut.  Three!  On top of the visual reference I got priceless qualitative data.  The hardness of the sound.  The surprising warmth of the sun. The sugary texture of the snow.  The keen edge on a slight breeze.  The way your fingertips and toes can start to go when the rest of you is perfectly warm.  The SHEER INSANITY of Cape Crozier.  The veterans were right – I couldn’t have drawn it without having been there, but now I have, and can, and I am more grateful than I can ever adequately express.  With all these resources laid so copiously at my feet, all I had to do was sit down and draw the darn thing.  Luckily I have some very sound training to back me up on that.

Now, this is all very well for the how of making the book, and, I hope, interesting enough. But why?  Why am I putting so much effort into telling this story, and why now?

Well, it means a lot to me personally.  To begin to understand why, you need to know that I grew up in the 80s and 90s, at the height of individualist, goal-oriented, success-driven, dog-eat-dog, devil-take-the-hindmost neoliberalism.  It was just assumed that humans, when you get right down to it, were basically self-interested jerks, and I saw plenty of them around so I had no reason to question this assumption.  The idea was that if you did everything right, and worked really hard, you could retire at 45 to a yacht in the Bahamas, and if you didn’t retire to a yacht, well, you just hadn’t tried hard enough.  Character, in the sense of rigorous personal virtue, was for schmucks.  What mattered was success.  Even as my politics evolved, I still took it as a given that this was how the world worked, and that was how people generally were – after all, there was no lack of corroborating evidence.  So: I worked really hard.  I single-mindedly pursued my self-interest.  I made sacrifices, and put in the time, and fought my way into my dream job and all the success I could have asked for.

And then I met the Terra Nova guys.

What struck me most about them was that even when everything was going wrong, when their expectations were shattered and they had to face the cruellest reality, they were still kind.  Not backbiting, recriminating, blame-throwing, defensive, or mean, as one would expect – they were lovely to each other, patient, supportive, self-sacrificing; in fact the worse things got, the better they were.  They still treated each other as friends even when it wasn’t in their self-interest, was even contrary to their self-interest.  I didn’t know people could be like that.  But there they were, in plain writing, being thoroughly, bafflingly, decent.  Not just the Polar Party – everyone had to face their own brutal realities at some point, and they all did so with a grace I never thought possible.

It presented a very important question:

When everything goes belly-up, and you’re facing the worst, what sort of person will you be?

Or perhaps more acutely: What sort of person would you rather be with?

It was so contrary to the world I lived in, to the reality I knew – it was a peek into an alternate dimension, populated entirely with lovely, lovely people, who really, genuinely believed that “it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game,” and behaved accordingly.  It couldn’t be real.  There had to be a deeper, unpleasant truth: that was how the world worked, after all.  I kept digging, expecting to hit bottom at some point, but I only found more gold, all the way down.  How could I not spend my life on this?

Mythology exists to pass on a culture’s values, moral code, and survival information – how to face challenges and prevail.  Scott’s story entered the British mythology, and had staying power, because it exemplified those things so profoundly for the culture that created and received it.  But the culture changed, and there were new values; Scott’s legacy was first inverted and then cast aside.  The new culture needed a new epic hero.  You’d think it would be Amundsen, the epitome of ruthless success, but “Make Plan – Execute Plan – Go Home” has no mythic value, so he didn’t stick.  The hero needed challenges, he needed setbacks, and he needed to win, on our terms.

Shackleton!  Shackleton was a winner!  Shackleton told us what we knew to be true and wanted to hear at epic volume: that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard, you will succeed!  (Especially if you can control the narrative.)  Scott, on the other hand, tells us that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard . . . you may nevertheless die horribly in the snow.  Nobody wants to hear that!  What a downer!  I think it’s no coincidence that Shackleton exploded into popular culture in the late 90s and has dominated it ever since: he is the mythic hero of the zeitgeist. I am always being asked if I’ll be doing Shackleton next.  He has six graphic novels already!  That is plenty!  But people still want to tell and be told his story, because it’s a heroic myth that validates our worldview.

That’s why I am so determined to tell the Scott story, because Scott is who we don’t realise we need right now – and Wilson, and Bowers, and Cherry, and Atch, and all the rest.  The Terra Nova Expedition is the Millennials’ polar expedition.  We’ve worked really hard, we’ve done everything we were supposed to, we made what appeared to be the right decisions at the time, and we’re still losing.  Nothing in the mythology we’ve been fed has prepared us for this.  No amount of positive attitude is going to change it.  We have all the aphorisms in the world, but what we need is an example of how to behave when the chips are down, when the Boss is not sailing into the tempest to rescue us, when the Yelcho is not on the horizon.  When circumstances are beyond your power to change, how do you make the best of your bad situation?  What does that look like? Even if you can’t fix anything, how do you make it better for the people around you – or at the very least, not worse?  Scott tells us: you can be patient, supportive, and humble; see who needs help and offer it; be realistic but don’t give in to despair; and if you’re up against a wall with no hope of rescue, go out in a blaze of kindness.  We learn by imitation: it’s easy to say these things, but to see them in action, in much harder circumstances than we will ever face, is a far greater help.  And to see them exemplified by real, flawed, complicated people like us is better still; they are not fairy-tale ideals, they are achievable. Real people achieved them.

My upbringing in the 80s milieu of selfishness, which set me up to receive the Scott story so gratefully, is hardly unique.  There are millions of us who are hungry for a counter-narrative.  My generation is desperate for demonstrations of caring, whether it’s activism or social justice or government policies that don’t abandon the vulnerable.  We’ve seen selfishness poison the world, and we want an alternative.  The time for competition is past; we must cooperate or perish, but we don’t know how to do it because our mythology is founded on competition.  The Scott story, if told properly, explodes the Just World Fallacy, and liberates us from the lie that has ruled our lives: that you make your own luck.  What happens, happens: what matters is how you respond to it.  My obsession with accuracy is in part to honour the men, and in part because Cherry was the ultimate stickler and he’d give me a hard time if I didn’t, but also because, if I’m telling the story to a new generation, I’m damn well going to make sure we get that much RIGHT.  It’s been really interesting to see, online, how my generation and the next have glommed onto polar exploration narratives, not as thrilling feats of derring-do, but as emotional explorations of found family and cooperative resilience.  We love them because they love each other, and loving each other helps get them through, and we want – we need – to see how that’s done.  It’s time to give them the Terra Nova story, and to tell it fully, fairly, and honestly, in all its complexity, because that is how their example is most useful to us.  Not as gods, and not as fools, but as real human beings who were excellent to each other in the face of disaster.  I only hope that I, a latecomer to their ways, can do them justice.

[lookingfts]

During the canon trip to India, Anthony and Edwina accompany Kate to her mother's memorial or gravesite. They hang back to give Kate space and have a small chat that lets the audience know that the two of them are in a good place with each other.

Last one for today! I have many more to go through later lol. I’ll also post these to my drabble collection on AO3.

--

He had been honored when Kate asked him to accompany her to her Amma’s grave. A place she had not been in too long, and though it was still a place of sorrow, Kate had seemed in good spirits. She had so much good news to share, her life in drastic relief to what it had been upon her trip to England.

Anthony stood at a distance with Edwina, finding shelter from the heat underneath a tree. He understood the need for Kate to have privacy; though his wife accompanied him to his father’s grave frequently, Anthony had begun to visit alone as well, finally able to face Edmund Bridgerton without feeling like a failure.

Kate had done that; made him feel worthy, made him believe that he was deserving of love despite his flaws, made him believe that his love was enough in return.

“I will admit,” Edwina said quietly, looking ahead and not at him. “Kate sounded content in her letters. But it is another thing entirely to see you two together.”

He sighed. “I have made many mistakes. But not a day has gone by that I have not loved Kate with everything I am.”

Pursing her lips, Edwina nodded. “Watching her here, with you, with your child…I do not know if I have ever seen her happy before. I have never seen her so light, so unburdened, so confident in herself. Her light truly shines, now.”

“It does,” Anthony agreed easily. She amazed him each day with her strength, her grace, her intelligence. A heart far kinder than the world deserved, given how it had treated her all her life. “She is remarkable.”

“I still have my doubts about the stability of your mind,” Edwina said crisply, and he let out a surprised laugh. It felt shockingly like the teasing of a dear sibling, and he hoped fervently that by the time they left India, he would be able to call her such. “But I am not too proud to thank you. For giving my sister the space to blossom so beautifully.”

He wanted to tell her that it had not been a chore. That loving Kate, supporting her, cherishing her came as easily as breathing, that he did not speak aloud even a fraction of the awed thoughts he had about her, though he had been told that his face reflected them clearly enough. That he would love his wife until his dying breath, and nothing in the universe had the power to make him stop.

But Kate was touching the gravestone, rising to her feet, and so Anthony simply smiled. “You are welcome.”

[ceasarslegion]

I find it funny how conservatives don't loop in my family in their anti-immigrant rhetoric.

My family is from the Netherlands. Generations upon generations were born and raised in Amsterdam. Our roots go back centuries in that area. My grandmother married a canadian man and much later, immigrated to Canada to be with him. Their daughter was born in Spain and their son was born in Amsterdam. My mom and my uncle both retain their Dutch citizenship and I had dual dutch-canadian until I turned 18 and the Netherlands made me choose because I had never lived in the country. I was born in canada, and as such automatically received canadian citizenship. I chose canada because I was born and partially raised and currently live here. And because I speak Dutch at an illiterate child's level

By all intents and purposes, I'm from just as much of an immigrant family as my Hispanic-Canadian classmates were. I had both cultures heavily featured in my household. Just last night I was telling my boyfriend about what dutch Santa clause was like and how we always went to the Christmas celebrations at the Dutch immigrant societies where we would tell zwarte piet we were good this year and he'd give us candy from his bag. Instead of cookies and milk, we'd leave a carrot in a wooden shoe for sinterklaas's horses and get candy in its place in the morning if we were good. (Do not start discourse on this post about how zwarte piet is often depicted, I was a literal child and all we saw at that age was a friendly chimney sweep who gave candy to the good children out of his big bag) and instead of presents under a tree, we'd get a knock on the door and run out to a sack of presents at the front door.

And as for food, I grew up on more Dutch cuisine than canadian. Which is quite... practical, for lack of a better term. Lots of meat and dairy. Pickled fish, cooked greens, pea soup, boiled potatoes, everything dipped in mayonnaise and Dijon mustard, including the pickled fish. My boyfriend thinks the palate this diet gave me is a sin against nature but I say sardines out of the can is a yummy treat just for me

When I tell conservatives about this, I get lots of perked up faces and interest in my family's traditions and the fact that we came from the Netherlands. They look at my often blunt way of speaking and nod along and laugh and say "yknow, I can see that! Dutch people are very blunt, I think you picked that up!" And then they ask about my extended family still in Amsterdam and about the times I've visited and ask about where they should go on their future vacations. They often express that it's a shame I had to give up one of my citizenships because "they shouldn't make you give up your heritage :(("

This is very... different from how they respond to people in the exact same situation from different countries. If I was originally from Mexico, or somewhere in Arabia, or India, or anywhere where the dominant demographic isn't white, they'd be singing a very different tune. They'd talk about how I should "go back to my country" and "stop taking canadian jobs" and might even talk about how they'd think my heritage was barbaric or primitive, if they were really daring.

Its almost like "anti-immigration" is just a more acceptable form of straight up racism

[unhonestlymirror]

I've seen meme made by @flashlight-sticker and I wanted to remake it based on my real life experience (with explanations):

1. Every Eastern European country is very good at cooking - but the first place is shared between Ukraine and Latvia.

In Ukraine, I recommend you to visit "Flagman" restaurants (expensive), "Dary morya" seafood store (affordable, may have delicacies like escallops or pike caviar by a pretty good price sometimes), and of course Silpo (used to be hella expensive but worth it, idk for now, GO BUY THEIR BUCKWHEAT BREAD AND PIZZA!!) and Puzata Hata cantine net (pretty affordable but very good quality).

In Latvia, it's Lido. Just go there, you won't regret it, the staff speaks English. They also have very nice dairy products and ice cream in Rimi shops. Latvia is fucking awesome at cooking, literally nothing's ever disappointed me there.

Belarus is also very good cook, especially when it comes to potatoes, ofc, but their meat and meat products are too extravagant for me... but it's definitely worth trying! People often bring chocolate sweets, birch juice and dark bread from there as souvenirs because they're pretty delicious, too.

Lithuanian food is also amazing, especially if you're a sportsman or student (someone who got used to burn lots of calories on daily basis). Biržų Duona bakery, Iki shops, Maxima shops, Lido shops, Charlie Pizza and Fokus Pizza (serve non-pizza nice business lunches), CAFFEINE - these are some delicious and affordable options, I don't go often to restaurants. Lithuanians tend to like pretty spicy hot soups (India's nephew, afterr all XD). My only advice to you: if you visit Lithuania and you don't feel like you're gonna drop dead if you don't eat something right goddamn now - DO NOT GO TO FAST FOOD POINTS. Literally go anywhere else but McDonald's, KFC and Hesburger. There are so many finger-licking options, don't waste your time on some average hamburgers.

Turkey is good at cooking (they're Ukraine's neighbours after all). Especially at local sweets and French creme soups. I recommend you katmer (sweet hot pistachio lasagna) and grilled seafood.

2.

Spain didn't impress me with its cuisine. 90% of tourists who praise it are Germans - and whatever Germans eat on daily basis would make any Eastern European miserable and depressed. In Spain, it seems like they drink fresh orange juice only, which is not bad unless you have citrus allergy. Then it's gonna be a serious quest, especially if you're out of funds (still water is more expensive than orange juice). Also, Jordan makes paella better.

Never been to Belgium so idk.

Never been to Bulgaria either but they're Ukraine's cousin so their food must be good. Thus, I place them higher.

Finland is Okay cook, definitely better than the rest of Nordics, so I place them higher.

France is pretty good cook, but even with their huge food diversity, they still don't have affordable good quality cantines. Some of them tend to close cafes and restaurants during lunch time?? Thus, I place them lower.

3.

Sorry, Greece, but never in my life I've been served with unpeeled deep fried microshrimps... Karavidopsiha is pretty nice, tho. Potatoes are meh. I recommend you to order fish and seafood. I usually order non-spicy fish because it's cooked really fast and it's hard to hide bad smell&taste in case it's rotten.

Literally every restaurant in the center of Rome!! will serve you with black-peppered pasta carbonara... In many cases, it's also not boiled enough - and in all cases, it costs too much for its quality! Wtf, Italy, that's your capital, the face of a country! You better book in an apartment with kitchen because small local shops have some nice fresh products which you will definitely have to cook yourself in order to stop being depressed. You also need to have a guide or a good old friend who lives here for a while, who can recommend you some nice restaurants (in most cases, far from the center). If you're a very rich& influensive guest visiting Italy, in ALL 5 starts restaurants, they're gonna serve you with Tiramisu (not bad, just keep it in mind). Also, DON'T order pizza here without a guide - better go to McDonald's.

4.

Hugary is good at cooking meat.

Egypt is good in everything which isn't European cuisine.

Switzerland has nice warm spinach bakery in Migros. McDonald's there fucking sucks!!!!

Never been to Canada and USA so idk.

Liechtenstein idk, Poland... overall has nice cuisine but almost every time it's a bit too burnt and/or oily to my taste. If you're from USA/Western Europe, you'll find it amazing anyway.

5. Norway trying very hard but still can't cook for shit. They don't even have salted salmon in shops, wtf! Vegetables and fruist costs like they're made from gold. Bakery's tasteless, but I give kudos for the visual appearance. My favorite pastime there became eating sugar substitute. Idk how non-fishermen live there, if I had to eat like this everyday, I'd hang myself.

6.

Germany is famous among Eastern Europeans for having really bad taste in food. They really believe pop tarts are delicious, and that coffee&croissant is a rich man's breakfast, poor guys... Every time I go there and pick a random cafe, I order a soup and it's ALWAYS inedible. If you can't even cook a normal soup, then what can you cook at all?... Bakery's also tasteless. They drink so much beer it leaves me speechless. McDonald's and Chinese cuisine will be your calm island in the middle of a stormy sea.

In UK, the only dish I remember as good was street food (fresh strawberries in chocolate). And they were made by Polish girls. Fish&Chips isn't even worth trying. Literally every country cooks better English breakfast than England. Just go to McDonald's, don't torture yourself/your family&friends.

[severus-snape-apreciation-blog]

Had a weird idea for a fic idea. Percy Adopted AU

So. Imagine if James and Lily were a little older and had a 5y when Harry was born,

Percival (named after Dumbledore), middle name one of his Grandfathers who recently died Potter born August 22,

when they die because he knows about magic Dumbledore places him with the Weasleys.

Tells them that he found the child in a destroyed family and he was worried someone would come after him cause of who his parents were. They should tell people he was theirs biologically

The kids all know he is adopted but Ron literally forgets and they honestly kind of forgot.

This could also move into more of how Percy doesn’t feel like he’s part of his family.

Most 6y don’t know anything other then parents are Mom and Dad. He doesn’t know who they were and not helped by the fact no one called them James and Lily but Prongs and whatever nickname for her and since he was so young the memories are fuzzy af he is very confused. He does know he has a baby brother and thought he died in the “fire/attack on his muggleborn parents” as he was told

This could also explain why Peter came to him. Guilt and felt he had to look out for him,

What he does remember is the feeling of being loved, laughter, one of the paintings he loved to stare at. The stars on his rooms roof. Having a giant fluffy dog he would cuddle with. A sorta rough voice reading to him. Maybe a Deer that would break in, red hair and the sound of laughter.

If he tries harder to remember his nightmares get worse. He was there when it happened. Watched his parents killed and his brother almost killed. Trauma also one of the reasons he doesn’t remember his family,

Things that happened living with his parents that he doesn’t remember

Knowing Snape and McGonagall. He and Lily reconciled and she introduced them when he was a baby and he used to call Snape Sevy and McGonagall Granny. She was not pleased

Would visit his grandparents - his Moms Dad who passed right before he was born.

I am on the side of the headcannon that Mrs Potter is from India. Idc about Cannon and that he actually visited where he was from when he was 3. He’s still Red Hair and pale, unlike Harry

Was babysat by all three other marauders a lot. Like Fully feel Sirius and Remus lived with them with Peter visiting a lot ( he was offered a room but his Moms health isn’t good) he was just as much a friend as the rest. That’s the tragedy of it all.

Has pulled on Dumbledores beard as a baby. Got a hand in it and wouldn’t let go till it was time to eat. James thought it was Hilarious. Lily not so much.

There is a photo of once when Severus and Sirius were forced to jointly baby sit they bonded over motorcycles ( I HC Snape has one) and they are working on it in Leather jacket and Percy is wearing a tiny leather jacket joining them. Lily came to pick him up.

Also one showing how Snape has no idea how to hold a kid and is legit hold him like a sack of potatoes under his arm,

Cue 1st year and Snape and McGonagall are like 🤨🤨 hmmm and side eyes this little first year and side eye Dumbledore and he eventually tells them but he makes them promise not to reveal it.

Cue 5th year and he meets Harry. Basically like the books where he treats him like family. Cause he did. He’s always been kind to Harry. He feels like he’s familiar but that’s cause he’s famous, right?

But then cue 7th year! Harry’s 3rd

He meets Professor Lupin and. There’s just SOMETHING about him and WHY does he look so darn familiar, and when he reads experts to the class he feels like a kid again,

While Remus is freaking out cause he was told his pseudo God Kid (both he and Harry are technically Sirius’s but if Remus was allowed to be he would be as well) was killed, and here’s a 17y version with Lillys hair and James eyes and Fleamonts face,

Percy would ask Dumbledore if he knew why Professor Lupin looked family and he would shrug at this technically a adult who has every right to know but Dumbledore the anxious king is worried

Later after he leaves cue Remus storming going “bitch what the fuck” okay but going “you told me Percival was dead! He’s not” and Dumbledore goes on a spiel of how it would only put him in danger if anyone else knew, cause he was the only witness to that night and even he himself doesn’t know. And no you can’t tell him.

Remus goes 😑 and comes up with a plan to get the kids to figure it out themselves, cause he was told “tell them and your fired. I’m sorry”

Like asking Harry if he knows he had a brother, and he did but none of the pictures he was given show him/removed from the images, Remus goes “huh I was sure he was in this one” and Hermione uses Revelio and whoa!

And like more shenanigans, Percy eventually figures it out. Remus told him of a way that he could access files about himself cause he’s not legally dead. It’s a rumour Dumbledore spread, cue intense panic and weirdness from him

eventually Peter ends up sorta telling Harry cause the whole Sirius Peter thing happens and Sirius thinks Percy is dead and yelled that Peter might as have killed him and he’s like “he’s not! He was adopted by the Weasleys!” And Ron and Harry are like 👁️👄👁️

Cue more shenanigans and an awkward convo between them, Ron’s like “Harry this means you are technically family!!” And then this is where it would deviate more from cannon cause till this point it’s pretty on point

Thoughts?

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — More news comes to light about Landon, putting Violet and Reader on damage control.

WORD COUNT — 3K

WARNINGS — some descriptions of panic and anxiety

NOTE — And here's chapter 2! From here on out posts will be weekly, most likely on Fridays, but I hope you enjoy this start to the story and I can't wait to share chapter 3 with all of you!

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑰: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑮𝑶𝑻 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝒀

A few weeks had now passed since Violet had hired you, and she couldn’t have prayed for a better fit. Even though they were behind on some of the budgeting for the gala, things were running so smoothly Violet was confident that they would catch up. 

“You look like you’re in a good mood.” 

Violet looked up from her tea at her friend who she was visiting, a smile creeping up on her lips. 

“And what if I am?” she asked. 

“I would ask why because you have been so stressed you’ve been giving me grey hair, and now, miraculously, something has changed.” 

Violet chuckled at Agatha’s dramatic flair and placed her tea down in a saucer before speaking. 

“You remember this whole thing with Landon,” she said. “Dealing with the aftermath of it was terrible, but I recently hired someone to fill his position, and she feels like a very good fit. I’m enjoying working with her.” 

“A good fit,” Agatha smiled. She had a feeling there was something else her friend wasn’t sharing, but she knew it would come with time, not wanting to press too hard quite yet. “I suppose that means the gala is raring to go?” 

“Yes, and I would be so grateful if you could attend,” Violet said with a soft look in her eyes. “I’m trying to make sure all the family is back in time for it, but you know my children.” 

“Like herding cats,” Agatha said with a chuckle, and Violet nodded with slight exasperation. “Speaking of, how is everyone?” 

“Alive,” Violet chuckled. “Anthony is still in India, he won’t be back until the gala I believe; Benedict is Lord knows where; Colin and Penelope are on assignment in Indonesia last I heard. You probably already know that Daphne and Simon are settling in with baby number three.” 

Agatha nodded. 

“Eloise is at school taking summer courses because she cannot be without some sort of mental stimulation for too long; Francesca has just started her position at the philharmonic; and Gregory and Hyacinth are at home getting on each other’s nerves as usual.”

“So I gather the house still isn’t quiet?” 

“Not in the least,” Violet shook her head. “Hyacinth is so excited I’ve agreed to let her go to this concert with Benedict. I believe I’ve heard all of the album so many times I could do the concert myself.” 

“But watching one’s mother sing is not nearly as entertaining is it?” Agatha teased and Violet laughed. 

“No, surely not.” 

Once the laughter settled down, Agatha looked at Violet, a curious glimmer in her eyes. 

“Are you sure there isn’t something else you wish to speak with me about?” she asked. “Perhaps something different from the usual?” 

Violet frowned a little, unsure as to what her friend was referring to.

“No, I don’t think there is,” she shook her head. “Why do you ask?” 

“No particular reason,” Agatha shrugged. “But you do know you can tell me anything.” 

“Of course I do,” Violet nodded her head, her lips pressed into a small, thin smile. “You are my closest friend, if there was something to tell, I would tell it to you.” 

“Good,” Agatha nodded, content with that response. 

Violet sipped her tea and thought back to Agatha’s question. Was she reading into something that wasn’t there or did she sense something Violet didn’t? The only really different thing in her life at the moment was you and, in her mind, that was normal. You were an employee who was working well, but then again so was Marianne when Violet had hired her, and she hadn’t necessarily sung her praises in front of Agatha. 

She was about to open her mouth and ask her friend further questions about what she meant, but she was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. 

Seeing your name flash across the screen, she excused herself for a moment, answering the phone and stepping outside of the room to take the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Violet, hi,” she heard your voice on the other end, you sounded a little nervous. 

“Is something going on?” she asked. 

“Nothing major,” you assured her. “Just I-I noticed some discrepancies in the accounts…Okay that’s pretty major, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry to cut your tea with your friend short, but I think we have to talk about this.” 

Violet pressed her lips together and nodded her head. 

“Are you at the house?” she asked. 

“No, I’m at my apartment in the city. I can be there in forty minutes.” 

“No need, I’m closer to you, text me your address, I’ll come over,” she said. 

“Alright, call me when you get close, I’ll come down and get you from a side entrance.” 

Violet felt a small flutter in her chest at the reminder that she may be exposing herself to wandering eyes, but your voice quickly reassured her that there were ways to be discreet. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Violet said. “Maybe call the lawyers while you’re waiting for me, I’ll call Anthony on the way.” 

You agreed and exchanged quick goodbyes before Violet entered the room, an apologetic look on her face. 

“Dinner to make up for this?” she asked. 

“Your place, you cook,” Agatha nodded and Violet chuckled. 

“Deal,” she came into the room and gave her friend a tight hug before grabbing her bag and jacket, letting herself out. 

She got into her car and began the drive to the address you had sent, calling Anthony once the GPS was set up. 

“Hey Mum,” the voice of her daughter-in-law rang through the car and Violet smiled. 

“Kate, my darling, it is so good to hear your voice,” she sighed. 

“It's good to hear yours, too,” she could practically hear Kate smile over the phone. “Let me guess, more issues with work?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Violet nodded. “It may be good for you to hear this as well, but can you get Anthony?” 

“Of course,” Kate assured her and went to go get her husband, informing her when they were both on the phone together. 

“Mum, what’s going on?” Anthony asked. 

“Our new manager’s just found some discrepancies in the accounts. I thought you said the lawyers didn’t find anything?”

“They didn’t,” Anthony swore quietly. “What was it?” 

“I’m not sure yet, but I would not be surprised if it has anything to do with Landon. I’m heading to her home right now to go over things with her, and she’s calling the lawyers,” Violet explained. “Just, could you maybe go on damage control with your siblings and make sure no one is spending exorbitant amounts of money on anything, not that they would, just try to keep things within limits.” 

“Okay, Kate and I can handle that,” Anthony nodded. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come home?” Kate asked. “My family would understand, we can come back another time.”

“Oh no, my dear,” Violet shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t want you to do that. This time is special, Eddie isn’t always going to be this young. Your family should get a chance to enjoy him like this, too.” 

“Alright,” she sighed. “But don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I feel like we left you alone at such an inconvenient time.” 

“It’s no matter, we have a manager now who I really think we can trust. I’m sure she’ll be able to help me figure whatever this is out.” 

“We love you, Mum,” Anthony said. “Check in soon.” 

“Will do. Kisses.” 

Both Anthony and Kate made a small kiss sound over the phone before they exchanged goodbyes and hung up just before Violet pulled into the area where your apartment was.

It took her a moment to find parking, but she called you while she did and you came down to greet her by the side door, ushering her inside. 

“You found the place okay?” you asked, and Violet nodded her head. 

You could see the stress clearly in her expression, especially as she fiddled with the rings on her finger or played with the ends of her hair while you were waiting in the elevator. 

Once you finally got inside your apartment you quietly excused the mess. 

“I moved in just before I started working for you, I haven’t had the chance to get everything out of boxes yet,” you explained, bringing her over to your office that was more or less set up. “Okay, this is what I found.” 

You showed Violet the papers splayed out and began to explain them. 

“Basically, it’s a money trail,” you said. “At first glance it actually looks quite normal, which is probably why the others missed it, but I didn’t recognize this name,” you pointed to the document, “and decided to do some additional digging. I found out it actually goes all the way to this shell company working out of Seychelles. Unfortunately, I can’t touch it and it looks like there’s a couple hundred million in there.” 

Violet could feel herself growing nauseous. Ironically, she wasn’t worried about the money, but more so what kind of attention this would bring to the family. The kind of attention she was trying so desperately to avoid. 

“V-Violet, are you alright? You look a little pale,” you said softly, gently reaching to place a hand on her back. “Do you want to sit down?” 

She nodded her head, and you helped her into one of the nearby seats, watching as her eyes scanned the papers. 

“We have to call the police, don't we?” she said finally and you nodded your head. “This is my fault,” she whispered and you frowned, kneeling down in front of her. 

“How on earth is this your fault?” you asked. 

“I hired Landon,” she explained. “He worked for us for years, and I didn’t notice a single thing.”

“Violet,” you placed a hand on her knee, and her eyes moved to where you touched her. The contact was not unfamiliar, but she felt herself wanting to lean into it. “These weren’t your actions,” you said quietly. “They’re Landon’s, and it’s not like he made his intentions clear to you. He lied and was manipulative.” 

Violet chewed on the inside of her cheek, holding her forehead in her hands before running her hand through her hair and leaning back into the chair. 

“The money will find its way back-” 

“It’s not about the money,” Violet shook her head. “We have more than enough of that, and even if we didn’t…it wouldn’t be the end of the world.” 

You stayed silent, waiting to see if she would say more, but your mind found itself drifting back to the comment she had made during your interview. 

“It’s the press, isn’t it?” you asked, and she nodded her head. 

You chewed on your lip, trying to think of something, anything that might relieve her worry, but you were afraid nothing would do the trick. 

“You must think it's silly,” Violet said, leaning back in her chair, her body language becoming more closed off as the topic progressed. “That someone who has lived her whole life in the spotlight should probably be used to the press by now.” 

“I never said I think it’s silly,” you spoke softly, still kneeling by her side. “I can't imagine having my whole life available to the public, whether it is the truth or lies fabricated to get more viewership. That is not a life I think anyone sane would long for.” 

Violet pressed her lips together and sighed. 

“Then let’s try and keep this low profile for as long as we can. It will inevitably get out, but maybe by that time, things will have cooled off.” 

You nodded your head, patting her knee and standing up. 

“Of course, then we can focus on lighter things like this gala.” You smiled. “I just got word that they secured the venue you wanted, so that’s good news.” 

Violet couldn’t help but smile at that. It was good news. She’d always had good luck when she’d hosted at this venue, managing to raise more and more money each time, and she would always make sure her own family’s donations would match. 

Edmund had always said that money was a tool, and when it was used properly, it had the opportunity to do good in the world. 

Now that most of her children were able to support themselves, she worried less and less about giving more of the money away. Yes, they had lived a fairly privileged life, but she and Edmund tried to make sure they didn’t focus their spending on luxuries. 

Aside from their home, which had been in the family for eons, they kept things simple. A few people to help around the house due to its large size, security when it was necessary, but that was the extent of it. 

Violet watched as you picked up the phone to call the lead officer on Landon’s case. Eventually they had given their number to Violet in case anything suspicious came up, but she thought they were in the clear and would never have to use it. 

When you were finished talking, telling the officer you would meet him at the Bridgerton’s residence, you grabbed your keys and your purse, but Violet stopped you. 

“We can go together, I’ll bring you back afterwards,” she said. 

“Are you sure? I know today has been hectic already. I don't want to add anything on your plate.” 

“Driving is the only time I get any peace, you’d be doing me a favour,” she assured. “Plus, I just got Gregory to clean the car so it’s spotless,” she teased. 

You chuckled at what she said, still packing your keys in your purse. 

“Okay, let’s go then,” you grabbed the papers and files from your desk that were relevant and headed to Violet’s car. She took a quick look around, before giving you a nod to get inside, and she followed soon after, starting the car. Hearing the quiet hum of the hybrid engine come into the space, she pulled out of her parking spot and began the drive back to her home. 

You wouldn’t lie, you weren’t particularly expecting Violet to drive herself around, but clearly she had proven time and time again her family did not do things the typical way. 

“So you enjoy driving?” you tried to make friendly conversation. 

“I do,” she nodded. “And I find I do so much of it, I may as well get a car that’s decent for the environment.”

“Really, you drive a lot?” you asked. 

“Well, more when all of my kids were still living at home. We used to joke and say I was the family chauffeur, but I loved driving with the kids, it let me spend more time with them when everything around us felt unmanageable.”

“Are you still chauffeuring Hyacinth and Gregory?” 

“Not as much as I used to. Hyacinth definitely, but Gregory gets himself around, much to my dismay,” she chuckled lightly. “But before I know it, Hyacinth will be off to school, and I’ll be alone with a lot of time on my hands.” 

“Maybe I can engage your services, then,” you teased and Violet smiled. 

“Tit for tat, I like that,” she turned off of the highway and went to one of the less crowded offroads that led to the house. “What about yourself, do you have any simple pleasures?” 

“You know, that is a good question,” you sighed and sank back into your seat. “I love art. Even just looking at it, I suppose.”

“And how do you satisfy that need?” Violet inquired further. 

“Museums, mostly. I’ll just go and sit there for hours looking at a particular painting. Well, I used to, I don’t have enough time to do much of that anymore,” you admitted. 

“You’ll enjoy the venue for the gala then,” Violet said. “It’s filled with art, I find it gets people in the right mood to give generously.” 

“You do a lot of that, don’t you?” you asked, turning your head over to her, watching as her eyes were focused on the road ahead, sunglasses tangled in her hair, the ghost of a smile on her lips. 

“Give generously?” she asked. “Yes, I’m afraid there may have been something I failed to mention when I hired you.” 

“Which is?”

“I don’t think this is going to be a permanent position,” she said quietly. 

“And why is that?” you asked curiously. 

“Once Hyacinth is in school, Anthony and I have made plans to…essentially give away most of the money.” 

“As your financial manager, I feel compelled to advise you against that,” you said, “but as a human being. I admire your detachment.” 

“Oh, I assure you there are selfish motives as well,” she said. “Each of the children will be left with a sizable trust, I will have enough to let me have a comfortable retirement, but Anthony and I thought it was time we got rid of the thing that keeps all the cameras constantly on our family.” 

“Do all your children know about this plan?” you asked. 

“More or less,” she nodded. “They’re all capable individuals. They will live happy and comfortable lives, and I know for a fact they won't struggle and neither will any of their children, or their children after that. They just might have a chance at some semblance of normality.” 

You nodded your head, understanding. 

“I’ll obviously need your help with that transition once it happens, but after that I’m afraid I won’t have much of a need for your expertise. Unless you also do taxes, then perhaps I can keep you around,” she looked over at you briefly. 

“I don’t tend to do taxes,” you said. “But I think I’d make an exception for you, Violet.” 

Violet bit her lip and smiled. She had certainly hoped you might say that.

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

[metamorphesque]

its so comforting to see someone unbashedly love their country and culture. the way u write and speak of it its so refreshing to me. im from india and well, the state of our country isnt good our fascist leader is successfully dividing the people and its so rare these days to find ppl just simply love where they come from, culture and language without any hate for anyone else. so i absolutely adore it when i see u talk abt armenia its like one can see how much care u hold for the language and the country. wishing for peace and sending love x

I am sorry, dear, that dark clouds are looming over your bright and colorful land of magic. In my lifetime, I’ve had the pleasure of encountering a few young Indian people (both in real life and online), and I have a lot of love and respect for your nation and its culture. I am sure that brighter days are awaiting both our homelands.

You see, what I’ve noticed is that some people often confuse their fatherland with their government. The hatred that they have toward the latter often taints the love and respect they ought to have toward their homeland. But, once and for all, we must remember that these two are not synonymous. Fatherland is a place where the roots of history, culture and identity intertwine. A fatherland is not just a geographical location; it is a sanctuary of shared memories, values and traditions passed down through generations. It represents the collective spirit of a people, their history, struggles and triumphs. To call a place one's fatherland is to cherish it as a cradle of life, as one’s own home.

To me, the love one has for their fatherland is like a mathematical function that always moves towards infinity (its designated final value) but never quite reaches it. One can never love their fatherland enough. There’s always something more you can do, there’s always something better you can do. I guess the vessel that carries one’s love toward their homeland is only ever fully filled when one gives up their life to protect their fatherland.

I can only speak from my own experience – I was raised historically and, more or less, politically conscious. When you’re a six or seven-year-old impressionable kid and you visit The Museum of The Armenian Genocide of 1915, you see the photographs, the articles, all the documentation that exists – firstly, you’ll never be the same again, and secondly, your naïve childish brain thinks that, as you’ve always been told, whenever someone commits a crime or does something bad, they get punished. Then I looked around and noticed that these heinous crimes, these massacres, were not only left unpunished, but the whole thing was swept under the rug by the world, as if it never happened. Then you grow up, sharing borders with the enemy, the dagger of war swaying upon your head, with every new day bringing more and more deaths of Armenian soldiers serving on the border. You see your enemy disrespecting you, your history and your culture. You see them erasing your history and your culture … and all of this is accompanied by the crickets of the world. Then there’s Western Armenia calling for us, a topic that I plan on writing more about. And at last, our Ararat that you can see so very clearly from Armenia …

And, alongside this, there’s this immense pride you feel in being an heir to a nation that created a culture so distinctly beautiful, a nation that gave birth to luminaries such as Grigor Narekaci, Sayat-Nova, Hovhannes Toumnyan, Vahan Teryan, Eghishe Charenc, Daniel Varujan, Paruyr Sevak, Misak Metsarenc, Silva Kaputikyan, Hovhannes Grigoryan, Vardges Petrosyan, Martiros Saryan, Sergey Parajanov, Shahan Nathalie, Gurgen Yanikyan, Monte Melqonyan, and the list goes on … the nation that invented color television, ATMs, hand-held hair dryers, coffee machines, PET scans, MRI and so much more.

Have all of this brew in your soul and dare not to love and cherish your fatherland – you can’t.

[tavolgisvist]

You Tell Me

When was that summer when the skies were blue? The bright red cardinal flew down from his tree You tell me When was that summer when it never rained? The air was buzzin' with the sweet old honey bee Let's see You tell me Were we there, was it real? Is it truly how I feel? Maybe You tell me Were we there, is it true? Was I really there with you? Let's see You tell me When was that summer of a dozen words? The butterflies and hummingbirds flew free Let's see You tell me Let's see You tell me

“I was really happy he [David Khane] let me include the count-in. It’s iconic.”

(Paul McCartney about You Tell Me recording)

A lovely sunny summer day. Once again, I was out at John’s house in Weybridge. <…> Around that time there was quite a spate of summer songs. ‘Daydream’ and ‘Summer in the City’ by The Lovin’ Spoonful, The Kinks’ ‘Sunny Afternoon’ – I think all those came out during the same year, 1966. We wanted to write something sunny. Both John and I had grown up while the music hall tradition was still very vibrant, so it was always in the back of our minds. There are lots of songs about the sun, and they make you happy: ‘The Sun Has Got His Hat On’ or ‘On the Sunny Side of the Street’. It was now time for us to do ours. So we’ve got love and sun, what more do we want? ‘We take a walk, the sun is shining down / Burns my feet as they touch the ground’ – that was a nice memory of summer. ‘Then we’d lie beneath a shady tree / I love her and she’s loving me’. It’s really a very happy song.

(Paul McCartney about Good Day Sunshine (1966), The Lyrics, 2021)

There's that old Maurice Chevalier song from Gigi called 'I remember It Well', which goes, ‘We met at nine, we met at eight, I was on time, no, you were late / Ah, yes, I remember it well’. I love that. A great little routine. The man in the song doesn’t quite remember, but the woman does, and ‘You Tell Me’ is a little bit like that. This is just memory. Often I think, ‘Oh my God, I really met Elvis Presley. I was really in his house, and it was a moment in time that really happened.’ That’s all there is to it. It just happened. Sometimes I pinch myself and think, ‘Was I really on the same couch as Elvis, talking about this stuff?’ I want to remember it three hundred per cent more; I want to bring it back: ‘Were we there, was it real? / Is it truly how I feel? / Maybe / You tell me’. <…> Because Linda’s father had a place in the Hamptons, I started going out there with her. That’s way over forty years ago – could be over fifty. I think that’s also where I wrote this, sometime in the early 2000s, and perhaps where the line about the red cardinal came from too, since you see them out there. ‘When was that summer of a dozen words?’ When everything’s going really well, nobody needs to talk, so you may just be sitting around with someone and reading books, or reading a newspaper, and you hardly even speak because there’s no need to; you’re in such a comfortable situation. ‘When was that summer when it never rained?’ I like that I’m not even going to try and remember what year it was. I remember hearing a story in the 1960s, when everyone was looking towards India and Indian mysticism, of some guy who was visiting a friend, and he came into the room and just sat down in a corner, and they didn’t speak. The idea was they were such good friends that they wouldn’t speak until someone had something to say. It wouldn’t just be, ‘What did you think of the football the other day?’ They were absolutely in each other’s presence, not needing to say anything. When they spoke it had to be meaningful. I liked the image of the peacefulness in that room. David Gilmour and Paul Weller, a couple of musicians whose opinion I value, independently sent me messages to say, ‘Wow, I like that one’ – to say that this song was one of their favourites of mine. Your main feedback is generally from critics, so it’s nice to get responses from people who’ve heard the song, especially real musicians, and were affected enough that they can be bothered to actually write to you. These days, it’s a message on your phone; there aren’t many people now who would sit down with beautiful old Basildon Bond stationery and expand it a bit. I don’t do too much letter writing myself anymore, but I have to admit I do like handwriting. I enjoyed being taught it at school, and I had a ‘proper’ way of handwriting. I miss the old stationery. I love the civility of letter writing. George Martin always wrote a letter to thank me for his birthday gift. We’d done ‘When I’m Sixty-Four’ together, so I would always send a birthday bottle of wine, and he would handwrite me a very elegant note. It was always a delight. In fact, I’ve kept most of them. George’s widow, Lady Judy Martin, has the same sensibility. It was very much what you did when I was growing up, but also, a certain class did it. I don’t know of many of my working-class friends in the street who did it, but my family did, and I had friends later, who lived in places like Hampstead, who would open their mail in the morning and answer it. They had one of those little envelope slitters, and they would be quite organised: ‘Dear Henry, What a surprise to hear from you. I was thinking of you only the other day . . .’ I like the civility of that. You know, the working-class equivalent of letters was the postcard. You used to write and try to be amusing. That’s when you could say things like, ‘The air was buzzing with the sweet old honeybee’. Now we have Instagram, but the postcard was the Instagram of its day.

(Paul McCartney about You Tell Me (2007), The Lyrics, 2021)

Lying behind the phrase ‘We’re on our way home’ is less the literal sense of going back to London, but more about trying to get in touch with the people we once were. The postcard sending does have a very literal feel, though. Whenever Linda and I went away, we would buy lots of postcards and send them to all our friends. John was also a great postcard sender, so you’d get some great stuff from him.

(Paul McCartney about Two Of Us (1969), The Lyrics, 2021)

[tubeon]

Have you ever explained Daisy’s lore, or really what she does? SHES SO ADORABLE and I wanna know everything about her

You're asking ME about my OC???? OHG BOOOY!!!!!! I'm too excited Where do I start.

Press read more to know more about HER ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ (it's a lot. I'm not exaggerating)

Warning for heavy religious themes and implied racism/discrimination.

This is Daisyyy and she's my Outlast Trials reagent oc!!! Her legal name is Alice Bell, and her legal birthdate is 12/10/1940 (19 as of now)

She and her parents immigrated from (British) India to America in 1943 to escape the Bengal Famine, going from the west coast to the state of Georgia, where they found a Southern Baptist Community that would be their permanent home, as long as they converted to Southern Baptism.

This is a gated community that's kind of on the outskirts of town, so Daisy grew up sheltered, but she adapted better than her parents did, making friends only with girls (because boys her age were incredibly mean to her) and participating with her church, faith, and community. Her relationship with her parents and older/authority figures was distant, but it was peaceful as she grew up.

Daisy was no pushover around fellow teens, she was loud and funny with her girl friends, and snarky towards boys who were mean, she really liked coming up with sassy remarks. Quarrels hardly went beyond throwing childish insults at eachother. However, tensions against her would rise, she was often blamed for arguments, labeled "rebellious", and lectured to do better, all by older folks. But nonetheless!! She had her best friend Peggy, and her close friend Jane, who was also a child of an immigrant family, coming from China. She didn't belong to the Baptist community, but visited occasionally from the Ranch she worked for, often on horseback. Daisy really liked Jane and the horses, not so much the boys that came with her.

Over the years, Daisy would become really close to Jane, and even though Daisy wasn't allowed to visit the ranch, and Jane wasn't allowed in the community, they often met in the middle throughout the week.

This made her just a little more distant to her church, something that didn't go looked over despite her genuine faith and achievements within it. It wouldn't help that, at some point, while arguing with one of the Ranch boys, her best friend Peggy's anger would boil over and she would slap the boy so hard he fell straight to the ground. Long story short, the father of the Ranch got pissed, and even though Daisy hadn't done anything, she got in trouble.

Gossip flies around fast in a small community, and with the strain on everything that wasn't her friends, Daisy was encouraged to go into the city by the Pastor. She could be like a missionary, spreading the word of God and their small community, just on a smaller scale. She was told it would strengthen her faith, and her relationship with God, since she had been so "disobedient". Daisy was almost 19 at this point, and was expected to do this by herself.

Daisy was so ashamed that she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to her friends or parents, leaving just a letter behind. She wanted to say goodbye to Jane, but on the day she packed, Jane didn't show up.

In the city, it didn't take long for Daisy to hear about a charity event, thinking it was a good place to meet nice people, she'd go to the address listed on the posters. And that's how she gets to the Sinyala Facility!! ^_^

Daisy has never been in that kind of environment OBVIOUSLY but she adapts in her own way, even keeping her wits. Through the mansion and through the few trials she does, her expertise is in hiding. Daisy is much smaller than the average girl her age, making it easy to get through cramped spaces or hide in unconventional spots. She is hardly a team player though, she is willing to help people where she can, mostly through finding medicine, or distracting ex-pops with bottles or other red herrings, but she hardly participates in completing the tasks given. She refuses to fetch keys out of corpses or deliberately hurt the victims (i.e. Snitch) she isn't strong or athletic, so she avoids detection at all costs. Better at finding keys on a pedestal and tinkering with the generators.

In her first couple trials, she'd be caught twice. First time, she was running in the dark and bumped into a small grunt, she was able to get away because she had scared the grunt, but when the adrenaline washed away she realized her face had been cut up, likely from that encounter. Shes actually pretty okay about it, and it leaves a fork-like scar on her face. The second time, she'd be caught by Coyle. In this scene he'd grab her by her hair, pulling and then throwing her against the floor, and as he goes to pull her up from her hair again, she grabs a bottle, first smashing it into his head, and since he didn't let go, then stabbing the remains of it into his ribs, leaving it there as he drops her. That's the first but not the last time she'll barely escape him.

After she's done with those trials, she moves onto Gooseberrys trials, onto Cleanse The Orphans. I go into real detail abt this one its IMPORTANT. She does this trial with 3 others like she always has, but one of them is important her name is Mincemeat and SHE'S IMPORTANT!!! Daisy actually does decently well early into the trial, and although she's not fond of the Gorey Nuns, she prevails. She feels bad for taking a cross necklace from one of them, but now she has one. She's able to sneak around to radios, and she can work better as a teammate with the reels.

The problem is when they get to the chapel, Mincemeat has done this before and it shows in the b-line she makes to break the jukebox, and soon the jesus victim comes forward. Daisy is taken aback, but her first thought is to try and save him. That's what the keys are for. She convinces the other two reagents that's what they have to do, is free him. Mincemeat encourages Daisy to go into the basement with her to get the generators taken care of, and the other two can find keys.

As they finish up down there, Mincemeat tells her to stay until she makes sure it's safe upstairs. Daisy is hesitant but agrees, and finds one of the few rooms with light in that basement. And then the screaming starts, and all she can do is curl up and cover her ears until it fizzles out, and Mincemeat comes to get her.

She tells her not to look as they come up, but Daisy looks anyways and it's absolutely ungodly. She starts to go catatonic and before Mince can tell the other reagents to wait, one of them presses the button on the podium. It's raining blood now, it's great. One of the reagents rush to the doors to get out of the chapel, when Gooseberry comes through and immediately drills a hole through their eye and head, killing them instantly. The three take this time to rush past, with Mince trying to guide Daisy as best she can. In their rush to the shuttle, the other reagent somehow gets sliced up, he's still running but he's bleeding profusely. Ex-pops are still pursuing them, so once they reach the shuttles, Mince would shove Daisy into it.

Now they're safe, but it's far from calm. Daisy is sobbing while she's down on the ground, Mince tries to say sorry and pick her up but she just screams and crawls away. She doesn't know what to do, but the other reagent begs her to get into her seat because he's bleeding out. Daisy takes a moment, but gets into the seat to be restrained and brought to evaluation.

After she's brought back to the sleeproom, Daisy goes to her room, tears off the night vision goggles from her head, and refuses to participate in trials and any social activities. Through Dorris' lore we know it's possible to stay out of trials indefinitely, thanks to people on the inside. This is also the case for Daisy, though she doesn't know it.

Daisy goes into a far more reserved and "childish" state after these events, and stays in her room to draw, read, make her own clothes out of blanket or cloth scrap, and pray. Another thing she did was try her best to keep track of the days. She did this by paying attention to the guards and their shifts. This is all she did for awhile until Mince became her friend, and later another reagent named Soro. This is actually the time where she would introduce herself as Daisy.

She isnt a preachy type, but she really sinks herself into her faith, and would mention to Mince how she believes that this facility is something prompted by God as a sort of "Preview" into what hell is, and what awaits for sinners. It's a test of faith for her. She thinks as long as she keeps faith, she can escape this place one way or another.

Her character and story DOES develop past this but I'm debating whether or not I wanna make comics for her sooooo,

TLDR: Daisy was raised southern baptist and got reeeally traumatized after Cleanse The Orphans and now she's an even more timid girl with a tight bible belt. She has at least two friends though YIPPEEEAAAA

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Kylie Ora Lobell

Now, Klompas has come out with a book, “Stand-Up Nation: Israeli Resilience in the Wake of Disaster” (Wicked Son), which is a unique approach to Israel activism. Rather than sharing news about the war, this book highlights Israel’s altruism towards the world. 

“Today, Israel is nicknamed the ‘Start-Up Nation,’ and it is celebrated for its booming economy and ingenious innovations,” she wrote in the book. “Less celebrated is the story of how Israel lifted up other nations as it lifted up itself — the story of Israel, a force for good in the world.”

“Today, Israel is nicknamed the ‘Start-Up Nation,’ and it is celebrated for its booming economy and ingenious innovations. Less celebrated is the story of how Israel lifted up other nations as it lifted up itself — the story of Israel, a force for good in the world.”

Klompas’ book outlines MASHAV’s work, such as when they built the first utility-scale solar field in East Africa, spearheaded clean water initiatives in Israel, Jordan, the West Bank and Gaza and provided meals to starving children in India. 

“For a while, Israel became a global leader in supporting newly independent states. Precisely because it was small and poor, Israel had an advantage over larger, richer, and more established countries,” Klompas wrote. “It was a model and source of inspiration for newly emerging nations facing their own array of challenges.”

She saw this with her own eyes. After finishing up at the UN, she founded and led Project Inspire, an initiative to show Israel’s work in social, environmental and economic development in low-income nations. She ran tours in Uganda, Kenya, Guatemala, India and Nepal, showing participants how people in these countries utilize Israel’s teachings and technologies to tackle poverty and inequality. 

 When Klompas traveled, she saw Israel in “the most unlikely of places,” she wrote. “While trekking in East Africa and walking through a small craft market, I spotted a handmade beaded bracelet with the flag of Israel alongside bracelets with the flags of Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. In the remote hills of Nepal, I happened upon a group of children, and as I passed by they yelled to me: ‘Shalom! Namaste! Hello!’ In Uganda, I visited a remote island on Lake Victoria. Getting there required a windy bus ride, followed by a rickety boat ride, followed by another bumpy bus ride. When we finally reached Osanidde Village, an orphanage for children with HIV, we were greeted by teenagers who sang the Ugandan national anthem followed by ‘Hatikva.’”

“Stand-Up Nation” is a callback to what Israel really is, and what a massive impact the small Jewish State has had on the world – a much-needed reminder post-Oct. 7, when it is being bashed everywhere we look. Klompas believes that enough isn’t being done to communicate Israel’s nation-building initiatives. 

“I think I’m the first one to write a book about it, if not one of the first,” she said. “I’m not sure that people who have been to Israel dozens of times are even familiar with MASHAV. How many people know this story about Israel as a developing country and founding an international development agency at the same time? It’s an untold story. And the more that I learn about it, the more it shocks me that people don’t know it.”

[dreamings-free]

Outkast’s Big Boi, EDM artist Zedd, U.K. band Nothing But Thieves, Norwegian artist Aurora, rapper Hanumankind, guitarist-composer Cory Wong will perform in Mumbai on March 8 and 9, 2025

Anurag Tagat Sep 10, 2024

American punk-rock heroes Green Day, pop artist Shawn Mendes, U.K. hitmakers Glass Animals and singer-songwriter Louis Tomlinson are among top-billed acts making their India debut at Lollapalooza India 2025 in Mumbai, between March 8 and 9.

The lineup for the third edition of Lollapalooza India also includes rap veteran Big Boi from Outkast, U.K. band Nothing But Thieves, Norwegian pop artist Aurora, electronic artists like Zedd, John Summit and Alok, American guitarist-composer Cory Wong (known for his work with acts like Vulfpeck), breakout rapper Hanumankind (also our latest cover star), South Korean indie rock band Wave To Earth and rising pop artists Isabel LaRosa and more. Folk-indie singer-songwriter duo Lullanas – comprising Indian-origin siblings – will also make their India debut at Lollapalooza India 2025.

More Indian artists adding heft to the lineup include singer-songwriter Dot., rappers Raftaar and KR$NA, Punjabi artist Talwiinder, sitarist and fusion artist Niladri Kumar, pop artist Lisa Mishra, rock artist Raman Negi, Ahmedabad rap favorite Dhanji, producer Spryk, pianist-composer Sahil Vasudeva, DJ-producer Anushka, multi-instrumentalist-producer Sid Vashi, singer-songwriter Raghav Meattle and indie multi-instrumentalist/producer Sudan.

The announcement in September makes for meme-friendly news for Green Day, known for songs like “Wake Me Up When September Ends.” The band announced their India debut on Instagram and said, “Another first for us!! India, you’ve been calling our name… and it’s finally time to answer. We’ll see you in Mumbai next March for @LollaIndia.” The trio comprising Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool released their most recent album Saviors in 2024 and will likely dig into all-time hits like “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life),” “American Idiot,” “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” and more. Shawn Mendes, known for hits “In My Blood,” “Treat You Better” and new single “Why Why Why,” returns to the live stage after more than two years on his current tour, which includes Lollapalooza India.

Louis Tomlinson, who has a big following in India following his time with pop group One Direction, will also make a long-awaited India debut. Fellow Brits Glass Animals are a big draw on the back of releasing their new album I Love You So F***ing Much in July, but primarily due to their 2020 hit “Heat Waves,” which was the seventh-most streamed song in India on Spotify in 2022.

Glass Animals founder Dave Bayley – who visited India as a 16-year-old – told Rolling Stone India in 2020, “Thank you for the support, I hope you are staying safe and healthy. We can’t wait to come and visit.”

In a wholly new strategy, Lollapalooza India’s 2025 lineup is out six months in advance of the multi-genre festival taking place in March. BookMyShow Live also took a similar approach while announcing the lineup for their festival Bandland, which is taking place on Nov. 23 and 24 in Bengaluru.

Get Lollapalooza India 2025 tickets here.

[deepfivetraveller]

The textile syndicate

You instruct your servants the moment you get out of the carriage. “Alright everyone, unload everything.” They instantly take out all the wooden boxes, many of them adorned with intricate designs. You take one look at the garments inside  and give them a nod of approval.

‘Why did these Britishers hire me of all people? Surely they could find someone better’ You ponder.

But there is no time to waste. The grand Moriarty manor stands right in front of you. As you take a deep breath in, you put your right foot forward, officially entering the manor

“Moneypenny, do you want any style in particular?” Albert chimes. “Thank you for your concern, but I don’t know a thing about sarees.” With that, she crushes his chance for a conversation. To further show her discontent she puts a biscuit in her mouth, an indication she doesn’t want to talk further.

“Ah.” He grows silent. Albert doesn’t blame her for this behaviour. A mission to India takes at least two months of transport time. Obviously no person wishes to be trapped in a wooden hulled ship for that long. He quickly turns to William. “Brother, why did you call her out of all the saree producers?”

“Uhh…” William puts down his teacup. “No particular reason.” Albert’s eyebrows cross at his response.

“And you expect me to believe that lie? Please dear brother.” It was quite a peculiar situation, seeing the earl pout.

“There’s nothing to it really. Saree is an Indian garment, She’s Indian. Plus, she is the daughter of a well educated businessman.” He grabs a mini sandwich from the tiered cake stand

His reason was technically true. William put a lot of effort in finding you. After all, you’re a part of their mission. Y/n L/n hailed from a town called Kanchipuram, the Silk City of India. She had also spend 5 years of her teenage life in Dhaka, India, which is known for creating a very important fabric, Important because it plays a part in their mission.

“She’s here” Louis pops out of the doorframe of the tea room. “Great! Let's get to it.” With Albert’s command, the other two rise up.

Talking to your clients didn’t seem quite hard but what throws you off is the blonde man with the scar staring at you constantly. Although he has been helping your servants with the boxes, anytime this happens you start to talk with the other blonde haired red eyed man in the room.

“If it’s alright, may I ask why you want to purchase a saree in the first place? England's weather is not suitable for this in the first place.” A question lingers.

“My assistant is going to Calcutta on my behalf for a business trip. She would be attending a party behesting myself, so we thought it would be a nice idea to buy one.” Albert straightens up.

“Hmm…In that case I don’t think you should buy any of these sarees.”

This sentence rattles Moneypenny. “Why not?” She retorts a bit aggressively. ‘So all that browsing was for nothing?’ She thought. “You would be visiting a North-Indian household. My sarees are made in a south Indian style.”

That’s a good excuse. Truth to be told, you don’t want to sell your sarees to them. The Indians and nobles with no ties to the government have been your primary clients for…that fabric. Exposure of your work to high standing Britishers might scare your actual customers away.

“But Ms.L/n, you do have North-Indian styles in your inventory.” William speaks up. “Uhm I don’t.” You’re confused.

“Yes you do.”

“But I don’t???”

“Then what about the Dhakha Muslin?”

Oh no.

“The illegal fabric?” Moneypenny jumps from her seat.

Dhaka Muslin, an Indian made fabric banned by Britishers. Throughout history many famous figurines such as Marie Antoinette, Joséphine Bonaparte and even Jane Austen have worn and loved this Muslin. After colonisation, Dhaka Muslin became popular among female nobles, as it was a status symbol. However they didn’t know how to layer it properly. Dhaka Muslin is a transparent fabric, so thin some say it’s woven out of air. Without proper layering and pleating, wearing it can make you look naked. Thus, it was banned by Britishers. Weavers were forced to make garments out of cheaper fabric to get food on their table and cheap fabrics of England replaced this one quickly. All methods of reviving this fabric were almost gone until your father invested in the business. Even after being banned, the demand for the fabric still exists.

“This should get interesting.” Albert perks up.

“Excuse me Mr Moriarty but these are nothing but faulty accusations—” “Then what about this?” William shows you a piece of paper. A paper containing all the transactions with you and your previous clients. Worst of all, it’s written in your handwriting and has your signature.

Anger and fear blossoms upon your face.You knew it was a bad idea to be related to them. You knew Albert had ties with the military and yet you willingly signed up to this.

“Don’t worry Ms.Y/n, I don’t plan on showing this to the police.” Albert chums up.

What?

“Well that is if you comply.” William smiles and takes out a checkbook and a pen. “Dhaka Muslin is a highly sought after fabric in the black market.” He turns to his brother. “Did you know brother, it takes almost 16 steps to create it.” William continues writing. “That’s quite high.”

“Which is precisely why it’s hard to make. Even the cotton for it can only be grown on a specific land.” He looks at you.

“Overflood the market.” He swiftly tears off the check and hands it to you. “What are you planning?” You glare. “That is our business, you are in no place to ask for that. Should we want to reveal it, you’d know then.” Albert gets up from his seat and towers you. “We give you five months time to prepare and sell. If anything money related troubles you, call us.”

“Uh Lord Albert what about my saree?” Moneypenny looks up at the brothers as if nothing happened. “Just wear a gown. The party is hosted by an Englishman anyway” With that they leave the room, leaving you alone with the lady. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t even know they were planning something.” She gets going too.

“I should have expected this.” You drop the files on the table, creating a loud bang. Three months have passed by but you still don’t know why they’re doing this. The only reason you’re able to stand them is because of the pay. They’ve even overpaid you in some cases. But maybe, that should have been your second warning, another reminder to escape England. Today, Lord Albert Moriarty directly came to where the fabrics arrived and informed you the operation has to be done within a few weeks. You argued, bitterly, even shouting a few curse words in your mother tongue but his decision was final.

It’s odd timing that at the very same moment hundreds of buyers emerged for the muslin. From old-money manors to local tailors, everyone wants this fabric now. Police investigations have increased, leaving buyers at risk, but they still order.

“So much paperwork…” You mumble. This isn’t the time to complain. You grab a pen and start filling out the papers. Half an hour goes by and you can already feel the dark circles coming in. 

“A break would help you, you know?” Your head turns in a flash and your eyes lock in contact with the blonde man.

“L-Lord William! S-Sorry for the mess, please, do sit.” Your hands grab onto all the paper on the table and quickly arrange them. “Please, Liam is just fine.” William moves, standing opposite to you.

He had visited you a multitude of times in your office. Once when you expressed your displeasure to plain English tea, he brought some chinese tea cakes to try out. Ehne you both tried it the concentration of the brew from said tea leaves of cake was so strong, both of you spat it out. Ever since then, the two of you have become very attached to each other.

He stared at you for a few seconds. “Your hair.” He briskly pressed his fingers on top of your head, smoothening the abrasive hair. You quickly use both your palms to flatten it out. “Pardon me.”

“No, pardon me. That was very rude.” He looks to the ground and quickly pulls out a box. “For you.” he shys away.

Inside it was a luminous golden ring. “A Vanki ring.” You immediately pick it up. A Vanki ring is a ‘V’ shaped ring usually worn by daughters of high priests or kings. “A retired Colonel named Moran told me Indian women commonly wear gold jewelry so…there it is.” His mouth turns into a straight line. You figured gift giving was William’s way of showing love but this was beyond what you expected. Vanki rings are not commonly known jewelry and finding a goldsmith in Britain to craft one is even harder….

He actually looks kinda cute.

“I know my brother's demands seem unfair, but time is really not on our side. And I know, you’re still quite clueless on why this is happening to you.” Your eyes still linger on the red gemstones. “We don’t mean anything bad, w-well the true reason is—” William goes silent.

“Why are you wearing it there?” He almost pales from shock. “Wear the ring where?” “on your ring finger!” He panics. “Vanki rings are usually worn on the ring finger. Plus, why did you Englishmen name it the ring finger if its purpose wasn’t for holding a ring?”

“That—UGH!” He covers his face with his palm, trying to hide his blush. “In England we wear a ring on that finger to signify…”William’s voice trails off.

“To signify what?”

“NOTHING. Good day.” With that , he slams the door to your office and leaves.

“My little brother did what?” Albert chuckles. “Yes! And he didn’t even give me a proper reason. what does wearing a ring on the ring finger mean anyway?”

“Nothing of importance.” Albert smiles calmly. “Please forgive William, he doesn’t mean bad.”

It’s the day before you sell all your fabrics to the people. Only one more day before you cut ties with these gentlemen. Albert had invited you to discuss plans but it suddenly turned to him drinking wine. “Why not try some?” He shows you a bottle. “It’s vintage.”

“Oh no no.” You apologise. “I don’t drink.”

“Scared of some dried grape juice?”

“Well alcohol addiction does run in my family so yes.” You lean back. “I don’t think I can convince you any further.” He puts down the bottle. “Are you sure? About the alcohol addiction.”

“Oh yes very much. My father had it. It’s the main reason why I’m in England.” This peaks his curiosity.Albert waits for you to give him an answer.

“My father was a great man.” you slid back further. “He loved my mother, he loved me…He always made sure to put us first before anything.” Your eyes lingered on the wine glass. “When my relatives pestered on marrying me early, he was the one who stood up against them and gave me an education. Father taught me all there is to his business. No one could argue that he wasn’t a good businessman but…” Your voice lowered.

“But what?” Albert took a sip. “But he was casteist. You see, I come from a line of priests. In India, people would call me a ‘brahmin’. In my country, being a brahmin has a higher status than that of a king. He did believe our family were somewhat spiritually higher but he never discriminated against anyone until he took alcohol. I don’t know what exactly happened to his mind.”

“He mistreated our servants and the weavers working for us, calling them ‘untouchables’, giving customers different rates according to their birth and whatnot.” You sighed. “Even my mother had enough of him. Fights occurred a lot in the family ever since then.” Your voice hitched at the end.

“Then my mother left. She couldn’t handle him anymore.” You blinked rapidly to avoid tears. Albert noticed this and was ready to change the topic but you continued. “I wanted to leave him. But I didn’t have anything for myself. No money, no name. I was this close to giving up.” You gulped your saliva.

“Then I remembered I was one of the few people in my family who knew how to read and write English. I was also responsible for writing up contracts and had spare copies of everything. I even had the records of the illegal transactions. Being such a large amount, I took the files directly to the British officials in Dhaka. My father was arrested and the officers were very pleased with my confession. They decided to pardon me even though I was involved in the business. The officers gave me a heap of cash and told me to start a life anew. But, I just couldn’t leave the weavers. They were completely dependent on my father, that’s why they tolerated him in the first place. So I took the risk, hired them under me, set up a new area for business and came to England in the name of ‘expanding my business’. ” You close your eyes and lay back your head after the confession. No wonder why you were frightened to the core when William showed your records. You thought Karma caught up and was about to do the same thing you did to your dad. 

“I’m sorry for being emotional.” All you could do was stare down in shame.You told everything to a man you truly don’t know. You didn’t want to know what he was thinking of you at the moment. You were so caught up in ranting, you weren’t even sure you narrated the events correctly.

“No I’m sorry for making you talk about this…” SIlence suffocated the room. 

“You and I…Are not so different.” He smiles. “My father was a little like yours.” “Really?” “Yes. But minus the ‘great’ part and the ‘loving my mother’. Everything else is just the same.”

“Oh.” A small sound just left your lips. “I too did something drastic in order to get away from him.” You finally turn up your head to see him, and was greeted by something shocking. His eyes were red. So were his under eyes. He cried.

“Do you regret it?” You asked hesitantly. “Not much. But I wish he were a better man. It wouldn’t have come down to that if he had respected my wishes.”

Tranquility filled the room again. Abruptly Albert got up. “How about we go horse riding? That should ease both our minds.” 

“In the middle of the night?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Why not? Unconventional times always lead to great discoveries.” He grinned. 

“Come on then.” He holds out his hand for you to grab.

The stable was devoid of any person, field with nothing but hay and horses. “Why don’t we ride this one?” He points the black horse.

“Oh it’s alright I know how to ride horses, no need to go on the same one.” You look around. “I’ll ride the brown one.” You point at it.

“...Very well then.” Albert was disappointed. He takes out both of the horses. 

The blades of grass shimmer dimly at the moonlight. The wind blows cold, causing goosebumps around your arms even with a coat. Albert assists you in climbing your horse and climbs his with ease.

“I’m guessing your father used to take you on rides?” You nod to his question.

Both of you do a swift flick on the reins and the horses are out running. The seemingly cold wind feels warm to Albert after he hears your giggles.

As you further go down the field, the horse starts to go faster. Unbeknownst to you, the horse wasn’t properly trained. At one point you pull on its rein to stop it, but the untrained animal runs faster instead. It starts to jump, trying to push you off its back. Albert wasted no time to rush to your aid. “Y/n!!”

You try with all your might to stay on it, but finally it pushes you off, leaving you tumbling to the ground.

“Y/n!” He screams at the top of his lungs. At a panic, he tries to get off the horse while its moving, stumbling while running towards you. “Oh my goodness, are you alright?” You blink rapidly, seeing two versions of Albert.

“Can you hear me? Oh dear lord.” He quickly removes one of his gloves. “Forgive me for touching you without gloves but we must put your health above your reputation.” Albert uses his two fingers to check your pulse on your throat.

“You don’t seem injured in any manner but…Let’s get you a doctor.” Within a split second he lifts you up with ease, carrying you back to the manor.

“Is your ankle fine?” William passes you a slice of cake. You softly touch over the bandages of your leg. “It’s better than before.” You smile.

The mission was completed successfully. Apparently the reason why they needed to overflow the market was because a nobleman used slaves to enlargen his fabric empire. Your marketing had given them enough time to corner him to ‘settle the dispute’. You did want to ask why they did this but seeing the fact that they had money and power to take down such an elite man, you don’t think its best to ask. Infact, you feel queasy interacting with them now.

“Ms. Y/n.” Albert calls you. “You seem to be very passionate about reviving the fabric of your nation. Why don’t we continue this deal further? Let’s talk about this at dinner… just the two of us.” He tries to avoid eye contact.

You’re still oblivious to his advances. “Oh no thank you, I—”

“NO!” William shouts with unyielding determination. This situation was very unpleasant and unprecedented. Never did William guess that his own brother would be in love with his love. 

He has to do something now.

“Brother this is not possible…” He replies sternly. After regaining his composite he continues. “...Because I’ve already invested in her ‘business’.” 

“Oh and tell me, by what means did you ‘invest?”  His usually monotone voice takes a mocking turn.

William almost wants to laugh at his brother's behaviour. He had never seen him being so childish. “By using this” He gently picks up your hand and shows him the ring.

“I’ve heard Indian women wear gold as an investment.” He continues. “And I say, this is quite a steep investment.” He looks at his brother slyly.

“A ring on the finger means nothing if the other doesn’t understand its true meaning. ” He spat. “Besides, if you’re really ‘married’ to her, have you initiated anything???? Me and Y/n have already went horse riding…as spouses do.” He smirked.

Marriage??? They were trying to court you?

“Y/n.” Both of them call you at the same time.

Whom do you choose? 

#William#

#Albert#

#???????#

#?!?!?!!?!?#