#possibly scotland?

[ehlnofay]

Summerfest Day 7 - FALLEN

It’s quiet, in the throne room; would be a nice change of pace if it wasn’t so concerning.

But quiet is a bad tip-off. It’s not just noise-quiet – it feels empty, stagnant, with no wardens to mark it or guests to fill it up. The tiles of the floor meet at gleaming intersections; the branches of the throne do not rustle. Even the odd little rivers flowing into their drains don’t burble as much as they usually would, the grout in their base shining white and fresh-smelling. Pax’s boots, with curves of metal like horseshoes built into their thick soles, click loudly against the stone.

Something’s wrong.

Fuck.

Pax shoves her way into the room anyway, her blood-red fish leathers stinking of sweat, the dark drape of her clothes badly in need of a wash. Mud on her stockings. Plait messy. They weren’t even away from the city for long, this time – just enough time to get to Brellach, get done with it, get back, ready to report what happened even if Haskill never has anything to say and it’s 50/50 whether, at any given time, Sheogorath cares – he came out of the woods off-road and walked straight through the city, legs burning, the colours of that strange sunlight church-fire casting unearthly shadows all over, to get quickly back to the throne room. (Force of habit, he supposes; and then, shut the fuck up.) But the room is quiet; the throne, for the first time Pax has ever seen it, is empty.

There’s a figure standing in front of it, its back to her; its skin is familiarly tanned, long dark hair twisted into a neat braid down the length of its spine. Its boxy dress hangs straight down, colour swimming like the grey streaks in marble, the shape of it stiff as marble, too, as if carved by an unskilled sculptor. Haskill stands a ways away from it, watching it with beady eyes, looking grim, though in all his pressed black regalia it’s hard to say whether that’s even remotely different from normal. Pax’s steps ring out through the cavernous room; the figure doesn’t turn.

“Sheogorath,” says Pax. It’s fifteen full seconds before there’s any response.

“Camilla,” says Sheogorath, airy-voiced; the vowels are dragged out, with none of the lilt it puts on for the Gentleman, or the clipped edges it offers when wearing her face. Even still, it does not move a muscle. “I fear I’ve failed you.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I’m sorry.” But it’s not clear if that’s a response to what he said, or just a general statement, an admission of guilt or pity or something along those lines applicable to any situation. It still doesn’t move, voice drifting airy and small in the cavern of the hall. “I meant there to be more time. Artificial construct. Arbitrary system. It wasn’t supposed to close down on us like this. But we’re out of time. Where’s my staff, Haskill?”

“My lord,” Haskill says, inflectionless.

“Where’s my staff? What –” and then it moves, quick and jagged as lightning, the fabric of its dress turning all at once like a solid object, its plait sticking stiff at sharp angles until it settles again down the straight column of its spine. “What is this, Haskill? It’s dead. It’s dead. There’s nothing there.” In its harsh-knuckled hands, it holds a polished-smooth cane, like the Gentleman’s but less… curly. Its handle is filmed over.

“You’re talking nonsense,” Pax says.

“Am I?” Sheogorath asks, looking them in the face; there’s something about the eyes – “Good. Good. At least some things are right with the world.” They’re plain, Pax realises, and a shudder creeps its way unregarded down their back. The Mad God’s eyes are not any kind of colour they can pinpoint but you know them when you see them – so often, they’re the only thing in the maniacal shifting and changing that holds. They’re different, now. There’s nothing there. It says, “I was going to give you my staff. Teach you… but it’s dead. It’s dead. What does that make me?”

Even the throne doesn’t rustle; even the waters don’t chatter as they run. Sheogorath hasn’t changed once since Pax arrived here; he looks into his own face, the lines of his cheeks and his jaw just a mite too sharp, eyes wide and flat, hair perfectly neat.

“Calm down,” they tell it, even as something curls ugly in their stomach, “we’ll figure –”

“I’m calm,” says Sheogorath. “Is that not the problem?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Pax insists.

“Cute,” Sheogorath says, with the least enthusiasm they’ve ever heard it say anything. It tips its head; the braid hangs jagged and off-centre, a polished clump of something more solid than hair. “I would tell you to run, but it won’t do any good.”

The throne room feels sharper than it’s supposed to, and cleaner, something in the air pressure shifting enough to set her ears ringing. Pax takes a step closer to this strange, stationary Sheogorath. “Calm down,” she repeats, “get your shit together – or apart, I guess, since it’s you –”

“You would have been so good at it,” Sheogorath says, “holding onto it for me.” Its voice is too blank to read much of anything in. “I would have been free. We all would have been free.”

Pax shakes his head, trying his best to dislodge the ringing. “You’re talking nonsense,” he says again.

“I was so sure it would stop the echoing,” it says, distant, “but now you will die with the rest, and I –”

“Sheogorath,” says Pax. She’s not sure why.

“A mad god,” it says, “of a dead realm. Again, and again, and again.”

The cane crumbles into smoke in its hand; it tips its head down at it, ambivalent, at the same time as Haskill lunges at Pax – catches them just off-guard enough – knocks them, kicking and scratching, to the floor. Sheogorath shines like polished metal. Pax’s head feels so packed full it aches.

“You should look away,” Sheogorath says, calm as crystal, right as Haskill crams the heel of his hand against their eyes; “I’m going to die now.”

The pressure in their ears bursts.

When Haskill eventually peels his baby-soft palm from Pax’s face, there’s blood dribbling bright and coppery from their nose and every sound feels ocean-distant. There is not so much as a crack in the perfect, shining tile. Sheogorath is gone.

[ifindus]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[barok-vanzieks]

thoughts on making coffee with caffeinated water?

What is this question but a testament to our age of industry, when quantity is valued above quality, when the factory's expediency replaces the craftsman's art? If consumption of caffeine is the aim, why not pour a second cup? Coffee, like wine, is meant to be savoured, its phenolic aroma appreciated. One does not add alcohol to wine; to add caffeine to coffee is a similar abuse of its character and essence. To do so is to show flagrant disregard for the artisan who cultivated the beginnings of the beverage.

[hetagrammy]

silly question, how does Emma feel about Arthur having kids already in the regency au? Does it bother her at all, or is it just kinda like “oh well,”

Not a silly question! Emma has a lot of mixed feelings about them. She's in a weird position where part of the whole point of her marrying Arthur is that she's supposed to have legitimate children for him (gross idea I know, but this is 1810). Having his illegitimate children around is inconvenient to say the least for any potential children of her own. While she's betrothed to Arthur, she's essentially reserving hope that once they're married he'll send his children to live in a separate household, such as with Alasdair or Seán. The problem is that she wants to have that discussion with a man who is gone half the time, and when he's home, he wants to discuss literally anything except their future together. She also knows that deep down, Arthur wouldn't agree to it, at the very least not until his boys were much older.

On a personal level though, she's perfectly cordial with his children and she thinks that they're pleasant! She's definitely not maternal toward them and there's a big distance there, but there's no spite or jealousy there. This is compounded by the fact that her closest friend is Molly, who would literally die for those children. She couldn't say a bad thing about those children even if she wanted to. However, whatever mild distant affection she has for them, from a practical standpoint, she believes it's better for them to be out of her sight and mind.

[superbeans89]

Scotland when they’re inevitably dumped out of a tournament

Scotland when England are dumped out of the same tournament

[tintinology]

doesn't tintin always speak french because he visits colonies

Not necessarily. Of all the countries he visits, the only ones I can think of that would be French or Belgian colonies are Congo and Morocco (Bagghar, while fictional, is said to be located in this country). Shanghai had a French concession, though whether that's the one that Tintin visits (as opposed to the British concession for example) or not is unclear. And he does visit French-speaking countries in Europe (Switzerland and France) where he presumably is speaking French. But they're far from being the only ones he visits.

As for the other countries he goes to, some are English colonies (Egypt, India) or former colonies (US), so I don't think they'd necessarily speak French there. Not to mention that he also visits South America a couple of times and the characters from the countries he goes to are shown to speak Spanish (think of General Alcazar exclaiming "Caramba!" or Zorrino calling him "señor"). It's not a stretch to believe that there might be people who speak French there, but it certainly wouldn't be the norm. I doubt the Incas were speaking French, tbh.

For the fictional countries, it's harder to say. Khemed could have at some point been a French colony, but it's never specified, and both Syldavia and Borduria have their own (possibly Salvic?) language, though again, it's possible that they know some French (King Muskar might have spoken French, for example, it having been the language of European courts for centuries).

Anyways, aside from all that, both Tintin and Haddock canonically speak English; it's especially obvious in the French version of Tintin in Tibet, where Tintin actually switches to English to ask for directions and Haddock asks some kids if he can eat the peppers in English.

It does admittedly suggest that they do speak French most of the time and that switching to English is notable enough to be written out explicitly, though it's hard to say for sure. But Tintin definitely doesn't only visit francophone colonies, so if he's speaking French, it's not (solely) because of that. It's more likely just something that we're supposed to ignore as readers.

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

I think my emotions might just be firing off weird bc the last few days have been such a roller coaster tbh

Alfie's found some job listing for LGBT youth through in Glasgow and...its my dream job. Its...I'm actually terrified because I don't know what I'll do if I don't get get it. I want this job so badly and its been so long since I've felt this and I'm so afraid to be kicked back down for the umpteenth time

[a-luran]

Oooh trans Arthur lover here. Any and all info I’ll take. I adore how you portray and Alasdair and his reaction (or lack there of) does Arthur have much support elsewhere. I’ve always though as Arthur as this kinda pale lanky being no matter what’s in his trousers and thus able to pass very well.

sorry pal! I was away but I'm home and delighted to come back to this ask.

My Arthur headcanons all depend on the AU I'm thinking about but i do feel like there is a general baseline so I'll answer based on that/ give a take on something approximating canon (or the canon that lives in my head rent free).

Like you say, Arthur is probably able to 'pass' from a young age playing on the biases of the people around him. He unassuming, lanky, fails to execute idealised masculinity in a way that makes him stick out as historically queer but not necessarily trans. (I wrote a bit more about my thoughts on Arthur, vanity, and historical masculinities here.

I think that growing so isolated, Arthur was in for a harrowing realisation when he (still very young) comes to live amongst settled humans and discovers that gender and sex matter to them in a way that it never mattered to Scot/Wales/Ireland (other nations coming across him would not have been able to tell, would never have gotten close enough. In my headcanon not even Francis knows, necessarily, for a good while. This is both a blessing and a curse). I think this makes Arthur zealous, isolates him further, and makes him defensive to the point of cruelty in the long run. He knows what people are capable of and going stealth is a defence mechanism at first, and later on just a commonality. This robs him of support and community, however necessary, and robs him of broader, more fluid perspectives on gender. I do mean it when I think that Arthur's greatest tragedy is of his own doing. In this case there are obviously a lot of other things in play-- his physical safety and the parameters of his social and economic conditions throughout history, his personal relationships and what others expect of him, etc.-- but there comes a point where the people and nations who love him would welcome him and he just won't have it. I think it leaves him angry and aching and with a skewed perception of intimacy.

I think he starts dabbling with cross dressing to explore aspects of femininity he admires but doesn't truly lean into it into the late nineteenth to early twentieth century. I had a couple of scenes in my drafts of a '5+1 times Arthur wears a dress (starting from the early middle ages to the present)' exploring this desire to explore gender as a trans guy but life happened and sadly I never got around to finishing it. My main takeaways from writing it though were his innermost thoughts about gender and beauty. This is also where a lot of my Alasdair-reacting-to-Arthur headcanons began to take shape. I think the Isles grew up relatively isolated and wrapped up in each other, in a lot of ways, which definitely affected Alasdair as well. He has never questioned his gender himself, or Sean's, and Wales', and so it never occurs to him to question Arthur's; it is just who he is. The only person he might question gender around if probably Francis (which is funny to me, and a little endearing. I think of Francis finally putting two and two together and figuring that Arthur is trans a lot, and the scenario usually involves Alasdair's fat mouth and his clumsy musings about gender).

Sean is similar to him in this sense, albeit probably a little more inquisitive about gender and sex and all things human (inquisitive but unwilling to chase down Arthur to clear any questions he may have; Sean's experience with transness comes from experiencing other people, and then turning to look at Arthur with a realisation of 'ah, I see you in others, and see them in you too. I understand you a little better now, and it makes it even more difficult to hate you.')

Wales has always been sympathetic and probably would have been the first to try and address gender around Arthur... only to get immediately shot down. I think that he is also he only person who truly knows the things that Arthur saw and experienced that so harshly made him into the man he is, and so despite how much he wants to talk about it, help Arthur, be the safe space he needs in the world, he understands he needs to let it happen on Arthur's terms.

Francis pushes where Wales doesn't, and insists on Arthur's wellbeing and talking things out in a way that a lot of the time ends up pushing Arthur further away too. It would never be Arthur's first choice to run to Francis, even if he might do it subconsciously. As the most gender-literate of the whole bunch, Francis would probably also get frustrated, which would make matters a million times worse. If anyone could cut Arthur deep it would be Francis, and it probably has been. Theirs is a complicated relationship despite Francis' best intentions.

I think that Arthur turns to Alasdair for all of these reasons. It's his gruff acceptance, the wordless kind of understanding he offers, and the fact that he lets Arthur decide for himself. Unlike Francis he isn't offering him words to describe what he is; he is just a constant presence by his side. It isn't all roses, I do think that Arthur needs the questioning and the pushback he gets from others to an extent, and Alasdair can be blunt and crude and insensitive. Part of Arthur might resent how at ease Alasdair is with his own body and the fact that he has never had to question his gendered role in the world (this assessment is also unfair, and Arthur knows that, but he wouldn't be able to help it. Envy isn't rational). Even with all that, Alasdair is a shield, a sword, and a castle wall. They all would be, if Arthur let them.

[wonder-worker]

Friendly reminder that Francesco Coppino and Prospero di Camulio, contemporaries who were literally getting their information from predominantly Yorkist circles, were both explicitly clear that it was Henry VI who decided to surrender Berwick to Scotland.

Camulio: "King Henry has given away a castle [town] called Berwick, which is one of the keys of the frontier between England and Scotland." Coppino: "[Scotland has] received from the same Henry the town of Berwick, on the frontiers of Scotland, which the Scots have long claimed as their right from the English, as the excellently well furnished guardian of their frontiers, and the place to which King Henry repaired as an asylum after the battle."

The idea that Margaret of Anjou was principally involved in the surrender, or that she was the one who actually made the decision, is based on the claims of later chronicles. Two direct contemporaries, both speaking of ongoing events as they unfolded, who were both getting information from Yorkist-held England, both clearly believed it was Henry who was responsible for this course of action. Neither of them mention Margaret. Sure, you can argue that it was merely rhetorical, and that they were simply automatically attributing such an important decision to the King rather than the queen - but rhetoric is nonetheless extremely important and helps us understand how historical figures were perceived at the time. Margaret's enemies would surely not have hesitated to broadcast her involvement had it actually been true, and Coppino in particular had shown no qualms about criticizing her in favor of the Yorkists before. If she was genuinely believed to have been responsible, and if the Yorkists were actually claiming that she was at the time, I see no reason why Coppino or Camulio would not have emphasized her role in their letters. What these samples instead indicate is literally the opposite: that their contemporaries - probably including the Yorkists who were putting out the information that Coppino and Camulio reported - actually believed that Henry was the one making the decision. I think it's a very large and very unnecessary stretch to go against actual evidence and claim otherwise by placing the responsibility on Margaret instead.

Additionally, these small samples may also reveal what people at the time - once again including the Yorkists - actually thought of Henry's role in the war on a broader level, away from direct Yorkist propaganda which would obviously and perhaps understandably seek to de-emphasize it: namely, that Henry was perceived as the one making decisions and deciding the courses of action for his own side.

Source: Excerpts from the Calendar of State Papers and Manuscripts, Existing in the Archives and Collections of Milan

[pvffinsdaisies]

As a fandom can we pls start tagging Scotland stuff with either “canon Scotland” or “fanon Scotland” bc I’m ngl I’d like for there to be an option to have one on my dash and the other blocked

[upperranktwo]

I love Haggis the baby hippo so much 😭😭😭 if I don't take a trip to Edinburgh ASAP to see her I will cry!!!!

[gaytobymeres]

you'll have to prise the word 'outwith' from my cold dead hands

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: The Come Back (1.2, LWT, 1972)

"This wasn't a sudden impulse. It was deliberate and calculated. He had to break in to get at the old man, and then - well, you saw what he did to him. I don't know if he's a psycho or not, but I do know he's a sadist and I know what treatment I'd hand out."

"Yeah, I can guess."

"It's the only way."

"You've a right to your opinion, just don't try and convert me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, I know what you think."

"I think it's just as well your job ends when we catch him."

[sentimental-apathy]

By this time next year I might be living in Scotland. Fuckin well hope so. My parents are seriously considering moving back. I know the grass isn't always greener on the other side but I seriously think the quality of life over there seems better than here (WVIRGINIA). Is anybody Scottish following my blog? I cannee wait teh try oot muh Scottish accent... jk. I'm wondering how most Scots feel towards Americans who move to Scotland..? Will I be welcomed? I like to think I'd make friends easy but I'm afraid cuz I know how so many Americans treat foreigners here and I just wonder if there'll be people who'll treat me like that.

No but seriously, where my Scots at? You want a chubby, eccentric, slightly weird American woman as a friend? I need more friends in general but also need to learn more about current Scottish culture since my parents haven't been home in years (except once in a blue moon).

I've looked up flats in a few places in Scotland n I'm fuckin astonished at the quality of living standards vs where I am now, especially the prices. Right now a friend of mine is homeless, living in a hotel, her parents help paying because just to find a room for rent, a ROOM, not a studio or efficiency, a ROOM in a shared apartment or wee house is anywhere from 800-1200/month. And no one will rent to her without stipulations like making sure she makes 3× the rent on a monthly basis which she doesn't even tho she works full time. The housing crisis here is unbelievable. Is there a housing crisis in Scotland?

[larentslovechaos]

i think it's official that i am getting my surgery in a couple weeks

[pfhwrittes]

Since the Six Nations Rugby Competition (is it a cup?) is still going on:

What's Jonesy's stance on rugby? Is she a die-hard Wales fan, or does she enjoy the snacks more? Does she get into debates with the 141 and Mac about the qualities of each team?

Please give me more Jonesy lore, I'm jonesin' for it. (I'm not sorry for that pun. I will never stop, I'm only slightly sorry.)

Please never stop making jonesin' jokes, I love them and they make me laugh every single time.

Jonesy LOVES rugby. She is absolutely a die-hard fan and if she can get her leave sorted just right she's absolutely attending the Wales home game at the millennium stadium to cheer on the boys!

Given half the chance Jonesy can (and will) talk all of the team and Mac's ear off about the various line ups for the 'Home Nations' (Scotland, England, Wales, Ireland) teams.

I was mulling this over about who Jonesy debates when it comes to rugby and I think I've settled on her choosing Price to be her (willing) victim to the rugby rants. I think Gaz is probably more into football than rugby, Soap is an equal opportunity rugby and football fan (but will only watch Scotland games), and Ghost doesn't want to hear a damn thing about any of it.

So, that being said, Wales is Jonesy's team. She lives and dies for every try, every fumbled pass, every tackle. However, she will absolutely watch other nation's games (gotta keep an eye on who's winning the championship and who's getting the wooden spoon). If Wales aren't playing then she supports whichever team Isn't England (e.g England vs Ireland, she supports Ireland.) much to Price's irritation.

(Please don't talk to Jonesy about this years Six Nations, she'll sulk for hours. The Ireland v Wales game in particular had her sat with her head in her hands as Mac blew up her phone with endless gloating texts. 31 - 7. Ouch.)