#restoration england was a trip guys

[coquetteladyofthedeadmensworld]

1) DAMN, THE DUO HAD SOME HEIGHT OF COURAGE! WHO THE HELL DOES THAT, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOUR LOVER IS SAT ACROSS FROM YOU?!?!?!

2) Too cute for words 🥺❤️

3) More courage! Nell, I love you 😂😂😂!

What are your 3 favorite anecdotes from the Restoration?

1. Charles II’s brother, James (later James II) is sitting with his new lover, Lady Chesterfield, at the Queen’s card table. No one actually knows that they’ve been screwing and James’ OFFICIAL mistress, Lady Denham is sat across from them, quite unaware. James, being the sex #freek he was (he had a kink for green stockings), decides this is a great opportunity to time to start trying out public sex. He starts to do his thing under Lady Chesterfield’s skirts, both of them are probably having a jolly old time knowing that everyone is completely unaware that James is gonna make her lose her mind right there at the table. That is UNTIL they are clocked by Lord Hamilton, who reported the story (that’s how we know it happened). He says that he noticed James’ arm had disappeared under the table and under Chesterfield’s skirts “right up to his elbow” and as soon as James sees that he’s been found out, he pulls his arm up and out of that pussy so fast and so aggressively that he ‘almost undressed Lady Chesterfield in the process’ and no doubt almost caused the card table to collapse. Lady Denham is horrified but holds her tongue, saving her shouting for later. Lord Hamilton tells Lady Chesterfield’s husband, who in turn confronts James a few days later, effing and blinding.

2. Rake and wit Charles Sedley (known to his court friends as Sid the Kid) brings his little daughter, Catherine Sedley (who will later grow up to ALSO be a mistress of James II but that’s a story for another day) to a meeting with his pals. His bff, the Earl of Rochester is there, so presumably is Harry Savile, Charles Sackville etc. etc. Harry Killigrew is for sure there because he recorded this. These men who we now characterise as aggressive sex fiends and ruffians are absolutely BESOTTED with little Catherine. They nickname her Sid the Kid’s Kid. They’re cooing over her, and Catherine has brought all her dolls along to show them. Rochester puts Catherine on his knee and has a little chat with her about her dolls. Apparently, she showed them to him individually. One by one.

3. Nell Gwynn is feeling like this one afternoon, she wants to get the royal treatment from Charles II for a few hours but he’s having a really important chat with boring boring boring men like Shaftesbury and other Puritan sadfaces. But Nell wants SEX RIGHT NOW so she interrupts the conversation, tells Charles exactly what he should be doing (hint: it’s her), shocks all of his fusty ministers with her straightforwardness and vulgarity, and presumably it worked because Charles quickly ends business and goes to find her.

(in truth, there are so so many more….the Restoration era is like a fever dream. It’s like when Alice falls down the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland)

[edwardseymour]

Is it true that Anne of Cleves sent a marriage proposal to Henry VIII after Katherine Howard’s execution? If that did happen, then I don’t know why people give Jane Seymour flack if Anne’s thinking of marrying a guy who’s judicially murdered two wives, especially since Katherine Howard used to be her lady in waiting.

✨ terfs/zionists fuck off ✨

not exactly…

as darsie summarises: “katherine howard was beheaded on 13 february 1542. between late january and late february, anne’s brother and several other german princes drafted letters to henry. the aim was to encourage the english king to take anne back. however, francis suggested to wilhelm, via ambassadors, that the letters not be given to henry just yet”. it seems like anne’s circle was hoping or assumed henry would take anne back around the time that katherine was arrested. no formal proposal was extended, however.

in november, following katherine’s arrest, jeanne d’albret commissioned a personalised book of hours as a gift for anne of cleves — which heather darsie speculates was in the assumption that anne was in expectation of a betrothal: “a book of hours […] was a common gift for new brides. jeanne, as a dutiful sister-in-law may have been giving her books as a wedding gift in anticipation of anne’s remarriage”. around the same time, katherine was worrying the council with her self-harming behaviours: “she refuses to drink or eat and weeps and cries like a madwoman, so that they must take away things by which she might hasten her death”.

in early december 1541, while katherine languished in syon, henry’s hunting trip prompted one jane rattsey to speculate that he was using the hunt as an excuse to be near to anne: “what if god worketh this work to make the lady anne of cleves queen again?” meanwhile henry “personally authorised torture to be used on the two friends [dereham and davenport] on 6 december” (russell). mere days after dereham and culpeper were executed, on december 12th, southampton sent a letter to henry in support of anne: “he [the cleves ambassador] said his credence was to seek to reconcile the duke’s sister with the king and on december 13th, cranmer wrote that “the ambassador of cleves brought him letters (enclosed) from [olisleger] commending the cause of the lady anne of cleves […] the cause was the reconciliation of the king with lady anne”. around the same time as jane parker’s nerves had collapsed and henry had sent his own physicians “to nurse lady rochford back to health to secure her execution” (russell), the cleves ambassador met with the privy council and “prayed them [to find] means to reconcile the marriage and restore her to the estate of queen”.

so the cleves delegation clearly made some bids for henry to remarry anne, and her social and familial circle seemingly likewise wanted anne to be restored to henry’s wife… but it’s not clear how much this was directly motivated by anne. what we can say is that anne visited henry for new year’s. she gifted him crimson cloth, and darsie also points to a book of hours given to henry by anna, “in which she wrote, ‘i beseech your grace humbly when ye look on this, remember me. your grace’s assured anne, the daughter of cleves’. the date when anna gave henry this gift is not recorded”, but darsie is suggesting anne gave it to henry around this time. meanwhile, katherine spent new year’s at syon, “her mood swinging between terror, depression and forced hilarity” (tallis).

much of this was international murmurings, too. marillac now praised anne as beautiful and patient. in late january, katherine was charged with high treason. meanwhile, in france, “a declamation was published aimed at henry and the privy council about the treatment of anne”, written by john of luxembourg, titled ‘the prayer and remonstrance of the high and powerful madame marie of cleves, sister of the highest and most powerful lord, the duke of jülich, of cleves, and of guelders, to the king of england and his council’ (mistakenly calling anne by her mother’s name).

considering the confusion surrounding katherine’s sudden disgrace — as henry was careful to not let information get out, as evidenced by the ambassador’s erroneous reports — and anne’s assumed superiority over katherine (which anne herself supposedly flexed the previous year, according to darsie)… well, it doesn’t surprise me that this conclusion was reached. henry very firmly rejected anne, however, so it was for nought.

[fumblingmusings]

Can you tell us more about asakiku with fem England? I really adore the concept like normal asakiku hits hard, but with Evelyn hits harder

Okay so in 1910 there was this Japanese-British Exhibition in London where essentially Japan was trying to prove that A) Their products were worth buying B) That their imperialism was benevolent just like the British (I shouldn't need to put a qualifying statement here but obviously this is false on both ends) and C) That they were a worthy Great Power good enough to be on equal standing with the UK.

Japan spent an enormous sum of money on it despite being sort of bankrupt following the Russo-Japanese War. They built two gardens, sent around 22,550 square metres worth of stuff as well as parked a few ships at Kent to prove that yes, their alliance was a naval one and yes, they had the guns to back it up.

It was - I guess in Hetalia terms - Kiku being a giant simp. Get you a guy willing to build you a gyroscopically stable monorail and take you for a 1 mile round trip around the park. Just for you ~

Still can't say the 'L' word though.

What I find hilarious is the Japanese were disappointed with how it turned out - not finding aspects sophisticated enough (the model villages which were so common at the time were particularly criticised [not for the right reasons mind you]). Meanwhile Britain, who the entire thing was for, fell absolutely in love with it and like 8 million people turned up.

So... let's say Evelyn in particular adored the gardens, because she is such a green thumb, and made sure one of the gates was moved to Kew Gardens once the exhibition closed, but it wasn't until the 90s where the Japanese gardens were designed that it was properly given a home. The gate needed to go through an absolute ball ache of a restoration project but it's worth it because she loves it and him even if she isn't able to admit it just yet (a few more years maybe, then they can sit together in the garden and just breath).

She does one more big act of kindness for him, one that he cannot shake even after the collapse of their alliance, and I like the idea of it sort of haunting him for a good number of years.

There's a tree in Kew gardens - in the Japanese garden that is - of a white cherry blossom tree. It's a Japanese tree, but it had become extinct in its home by the 20s. Yes, Japan has many types of cherry trees, but still, it's one of the most beautiful versions (white, rather than the pink ones gifted to DC and such). But then in the 1930s, some English guy went 'wait a minute' and found the tree in Southern England of all places. So they took some cuttings, and gifted the tree back to Japan.

I like the idea of it really taking Kiku aback. That even when - at that point in time - they're supposed to be nothing to each other, and he maybe is still nursing a bit of a broken heart and a bruised ego and we know Kiku can be... let's say passive aggressive (like what do you mean Ludwig and Evelyn slept together in '27?!?!?!?) she still gives him a little piece of himself back. He cannot understand for a long time why.

[capaldiera]

if i wrote an isaac newton episode of dr who there would be something wrong with the tardis and they can only manage one little trip and they find out that somehow newton had figured something out in his study of alchemy that could be used to restore the like artron energy levels or some shit but they accidentally travel too far back and it's like during the year after fatio decided to not go back to england and stay in europe working with that other guy and newton like had a breakdown about it. and then the doctor and companion have to like drag newton out of his depressive rut and get him to work on his alchemy shit so they can start travelling. gravity is still called mavity at the end of the episode because they didnt go back far enough to affect that

[mortalprinceoflies]

Closed Starter | @runyou-clever-boy

They were being watched. He’d tried to ignore it, write it off as paranoia from this being their first family trip outside of the country. This wasn’t an installment in the ‘Taken’ franchise; surely, no one was lurking in the shadows, waiting to kidnap one of his girls. No matter what he told himself, however, Luke’s anxiety wouldn’t leave him, especially when he noticed how tense Delaney was. Riley was taking photos nonstop, and Morgan and Jayden were animatedly pointed out landmarks that they wanted to visit next, with the Tower of London being the most prevalent on the list at the moment. They were blissfully unaware that their parents’ heads were on swivels, scanning the crowded London streets for whomever might be following them.

Delaney spotted him first. “Pretty blond with the pouty lips,” she muttered, squeezing Luke’s hand. “He’s definitely tailing us. I saw him when we walked out of the Jack the Ripper Museum.”

“So he’s been on us for at least fifteen minutes,” Luke sighed, hating the fact that he’d been right. “Great…alright, keep moving with the girls. I’ll take care of this guy and catch up with you.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Luke…”

“I won’t! I’m just gonna have a polite chat with the guy, try to discourage him from pulling whatever bullshit he wants to pull. I think he knows he’s been made, though.” Luke had locked eyes with the mysterious young man by mistake, and now couldn’t stop looking at him for fear that he’d lose him in the crowd. This was just too weird. He gave Delaney a quick kiss on the cheek, pretending not to notice as she slipped one of her lucky charms into his pocket before leaving with the girls. It was her way of saying she was worried about him, and he honestly found it endearing.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to confront his stalker, brown eyes turning steely and briefly flashing red. “Look, buddy, I know you probably thought I’d be an easy target because I’m some country bumpkin tourist, but you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. I’m just tryin’ to have a nice vacation with my family. I don’t need you to ruin it with whatever scheme you’re plannin’ on pullin’. Stop followin’ us!” Hands balled into fists at his sides briefly before loosening again. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight, but if the other decided to get physical, he would gladly defend himself.

Little did he know that he had yet another pair of eyes on him. Vigoraunt had been haunting Luke and his family for far longer than this angelic menace; he had just been more subtle. Blending into the crowd was just as easy for the incubus here in England as it had been back in the States. Hells, he’d probably turned it into an art form at this point. The trick was to simply mind one’s own business while remaining in the general vicinity of one’s target, although being able to turn invisible certainly didn’t hurt. Truthfully, he hated being a spy, but restoring Lucifer to his infernal throne was more than worth it. A nosy fallen angel, however, could throw a massive wrench into that plan. Vig readied himself to intervene if necessary. This could get messy.

[theologicalphysics]

Ok, actually, I have an idea! What if the ghosts are bound to the boundaries of the place where they died WHEN they died. So Robin's territory mostly overlaps with Button House, but is actually bigger than the rest of their territories? And Mary and the Plague ghosts who were from the Village can go all the way to the village? Plague ghosts stay where they are because thats where their pit is, and Mary hasn't gone back to the village since they killed her. The German pilots died in a plane and they stay where that plane was when they died.

I fully support this theory and in that case I'm going to explain the bit in 3x06 where the main cast ghosts are all blocked at the gates as being that all the different generations' boundaries end at the gates on that side of the property.

In Robin's day there was a river there, which formed the natural boundary to his hunting grounds. The river itself dried up as the climate changed, but the river bed cut a straight line through the landscape and got used as the basis of a Roman Road from leading from London to Verulamium. (Since we know from 02x01 that Button House is canonically in Hertfordshire.) The road fell into disrepair after the fall of Rome, but it was still the quickest way to London. In the early Middle Ages it received a royal pavage grant and funds were raised for the road to be restored using taxes gathered by the bailiffs and goodmen of the neighbouring village. The additional taxation wasn't popular, but the road was in decent condition again by the time Mick the plague ghost takes for his ill-fated trip to London in 02x02. Of course post-plague the road started to become worse for wear again. Road repair was typically funded by taxation within nearby parishes, which meant a lack of funds when the pit crew's village disappeared. When populations began to rise again in the centuries following the black death, there was a lot of resentment by those living on the Bone estates (echoing similar resentments throughout England) that local residents were entirely on the hook for the upkeep of roads which were being damaged mostly by intercity travellers who were just passing through.

Good guy Humphrey decides to try and fix this by getting a special permission to levy a toll on usage of the road. If he invites Henry VIII to Bone House, the king will have personal experience of the poorly maintained road outside the house. If everything else about the visit goes well, then the king will be in the mood to grant favours - like an act of parliament allowing the Bone family to administer a special toll relieving the financial burden on the local residents and therefore also on the Bones themselves.

Humphrey spends loads of money on making the visit as lavish as possible, only to be stymied by a particularly indigestible swan which meant there was never a good time to ask about the road, as the king spent most of the visit in the privy as mentioned in 01x04.

In Mary's time, the road had become a full-fledged turnpike and it was a great relief to her and her husband that what had previously been funded by local taxation was now being funded by the travellers themselves. (Although, in later years, the sharp-tongued Annie would point out to Mary how the grift and hypocrisy of the various toll farmers had contrived to make big profits for a few wealthy men, at the expense of locals attempting to take their good to market.) In Kitty and Thomas's day the more wooded areas of the road are used by highwaymen who will rob travellers in secluded areas then make off across open country to avoid being identified or apprehended at the toll gates. There's a certain amount of tension about this between Thomas, who believes the highwaymen to be unscrupulous ruffians and Kitty who has a more romanticised view. They spend quite a lot of time arguing about it, despite neither of them having any personal experience with highwaymen and being forced to rely on the same second-hand accounts to give weight to their arguments.

Meanwhile Robin learned early on that a far corner of the Higham House grounds adjoins the woodland area where the highwaymen operate. He, Mary and Annie spend time watching the highwaymen operate and get to know them quite well. They'll critique the delivery of the line "your money or your life" and sometimes place bets on the success of the various stick-ups. (These two plot threads are woven together when one of the highwaymen tries to avoid detection by taking a shortcut across the Button House grounds. Robin, Mary and Annie chasing after him on foot, while Kitty and Thomas come out of the house to see what all the fuss is about. Subsequently, Thomas begins looking more kindly upon highwaymen after learning that this one had successfully robbed his killer. Meanwhile Kitty sours on them after having one callously ride his horse directly through her.)

In Fanny's lifetime, the laws change so that English roads begin to be funded by a tax on individual vehicles rather than local residents or tolls. We know from 03x07 that she's got a good head for business and despite disapproving of these newfangled motorcars, she can see there's a profit to be made. She urges George to invest in the new motorcar manufacturer, Daimler, but he doesn't act on her advice in time to turn a profit. Fanny's annoyance about this is increased tenfold when she discovers, post-mortem, that the reason that dreadful Chetwynde family from next door had been doing so well financially was that they'd overheard her advice back then and had - unlike her useless lump of a husband - actually listened to her.

Daimler was subsequently sold to the Birmingham Small Arms company and the Captain's work on weapons development introduced him to a variety of their engineers as the company diversified into everything from bicycles to machine guns to aeroplanes. He used to ride a BSA motorcycle along the road outside Button House. (One of those old Roman roads, you know? Straight shot practically to Saint Albans, so you could really open up the throttle and see what the old girl was capable of. Terrific stuff!) Obviously, this simple pleasure is taken from him after his untimely death means that both his beloved BSA Gold Star and his ability to access the road in question are permanently beyond his reach.

Pat died during a time of historically high vehicle ownership, historically low fuel prices and worrying news reports about what the lead in petrol might be doing to the health of the nation. Japan had just passed a law banning its use and there are rumours that Britain might follow suit. Obviously Pat wants Daley to grow up healthy in a world where he can enjoy the outdoors, but bleeding Nora, he's not long bought a new car! Getting a catalytic converter added to the Datsun and then having to pay for fancy petrol... well it's not going to be cheap, is it? He's not sure about the price implications for multiseater vehicles and whether the scouts would be better off buying or renting for future outings if the new laws come in. He had a post-it on the dashboard of the minibus reminding him to look into the costs. It's in his line of vision as he dies. Just one more task he never got done.

The new laws are fully in place by Julian's time, albeit breathtakingly unpopular with his constituents. BSA sold Daimler to Jaguar in 1960 and are now responsible for Julian's most treasured possession. Like the Captain, Julian enjoyed pushing his vehicle to the limits on the old Roman road outside of Button House. It's a shared commonality they might have bonded over, except Julian decides to share that his drive had been enlivened by a line you could have marked the pitch at Wembley with and a mid-journey blowie from a blonde named Antonia.

[steveleeuk]

On March 7th 1936, a radio broadcast was transmitted to the United States from Great Britain. The man holding the microphone was not a DJ or a chat show host, but the king of England, Edward VIII. It was an historic moment but not everything would go to plan, in fact it almost ended in disaster. 

Just a few moments before the king’s voice was heard, someone tripped over a wire in the control room of the radio station and severed the only line of communication between ‘king and country’. The engineers went berserk sensing the catastrophe that was about to play out. With only a couple of seconds remaining before going on air, a quick thinking apprentice grabbed the two ends of the broken wire and bridged the gap. Seconds later, the connection went live, the king delivered his address across the airways and no one knew what had gone wrong. 

In a very real sense, the words of the king were transmitted through the body of that man. 2,000 years ago, God sent his son into this world to fix the connection between him and us that had been severed by our rejection of him and his will. Through Jesus, the voice of the King of Heaven was transmitted through the body of a man. When that guy grabbed the two wires in the radio station on this day in 1936, all he could do was come up with a temporary solution. But Jesus did something far greater restoring the connection and the relationship to its original condition. This is how the Bible describes the permanent repair that Jesus made possible “God’s gift was poured out through one man, Jesus Christ. The breathtaking recovery is for those who grasp with both hands this wildly extravagant life that Jesus Christ provides”

[eakdoeseurope]

Pompeii

Our third day in Rome wasn't actually in Rome. We took a guided tour a few hours south to see Pompeii and the Amalfi coast.

Our tour guide this time was a young American ex-pat who has lived in Rome for six years. Her name was Paris and I'm sure it's extremely annoying to be an American named Paris living in Rome because people probably make jokes about it constantly. She piled our group of 18 onto a minibus driven by a man named Antonio, and proceeded to regale us with facts about Italy for a solid 60 percent of the 3-hour trip to Pompeii. It was impressive. Also, apparently living in Italy for six years is enough to change your accent, because she sounded like the Italian version of when your attention-seeking cousin comes back from a trip to England with a fake British accent.

In Pompeii, she delivered us into the hands of Vincenzo, an archaeologist (allegedly? I don't know his credentials) who guided us through Pompeii. It was extremely hot and very crowded, but it was interesting to see the ruins.

Some of the interior decorations managed to survive Vesuvius, although the colors have long since faded.

This Roman bath was particularly well-preserved, or perhaps well-restored.

And archaeologists studied the root prints in the ash to figure out exactly what kind of plants used to grow in this courtyard so that they could plant them again.

Vincenzo was especially excited to show us this ancient fast food restaurant, where a proprietor served food from these clay pots embedded in the table.

Vincenzo was also very excited to show us all the phalluses and tell us about the importance of phalluses to ancient Roman culture and show us the little phallus amulet he wore around his neck. (This went a long way to explaining why I've seen so many penis-shaped souvenirs in the past few days.) We went into the ancient brothel, which had paintings on the wall that served as a menu for patrons.

We finished by walking through the small museum. When Pompeii was covered in ash, the ash compacted around the bodies of people, so when the bodies decomposed, they left behind voids in their precise shapes (as well as their skeletons). Archaeologists were able to use these voids as, essentially, molds, pouring plaster in to create casts in the shapes of the bodies (that would then contain the skeletons). It was really affecting to see these people frozen in time, cowering, some of them sheltering children's bodies. Vincenzo, unsurprisingly, was sure to call our attention to the cast of a man with an erection. Imagine dying in a shower of horrible volcanic ash and then being immortalized in a UNESCO world heritage site as "the guy in Pompeii who died with a boner."

[hops-hunny]

Just a Flight Away

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Ilvermony!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Request N/A

Summary: Neville has a cutie who lives in America but no one seems to believe him.

Warnings: None! 

A/N: This isn’t a request but it’s based off of me rambling here and slightly off of the vibe telepatia by Kali Uchis gives off.

If there was one thing Neville was thankful was it was the absolute goddess he got to call his girlfriend. It was funny the way they first began talking to one another. (Y/n) had been trying to contact a friend at Hogwarts but after the long trip from Ilvermony to Hogwarts, her owl was quite exhausted and ended up bringing the letter to Neville instead. Neville saw the poor bird, giving it a bit of bird seed and water that he kept in the green house before he set off to find the rightful owner of the letter. Luckily he had 3rd period with the girl who thanked him before excitedly yanking the letter from his hands. When Neville went to go check on the owl, he saw that it had already left, leaving a heart shape in the bird seed.

After that day, Neville hadn’t really thought about the incident that much. Well, that was until he saw the same owl fly towards him with a letter in its mouth. He smiled fondly at it rubbing under its chin with his finger before going to give the letter back to the owl until he noticed it had his name on it.  He ripped it open, careful to not damage the envelope before reading the letter.

Dear Neviile,

Thank you so so so much for getting the letter to Gwen! Gwen is a good friend of mine who I had been missing dearly and if not for your kindness she would have never received my letter. 

As you may be able to tell from the seal on the letter, I attend Ilvermorny school of witchcraft and wizardry. I've heard of how grand and great the infamous Hogwarts is, is it true? How is England in general? I've never had the pleasure of traveling out of America.

Oh yes! The main point of this is as a thank you, I've attached a package of my favorite American sweets as a token of my gratitude. The package is enchanted which is why it's so small. To restore it to its original state, place it on a flat surface before tapping it with the tip of your wand.

Sincerely,

(Y/n) (L/n)

Neville felt his face grow warm at the girl's kindness. (Y/n). 'What a beautiful name..' he thought to himself before pulling out the galleon sized package from the envelope. He pushed aside a few plants on the table in front of it before placing the package down, tapping the top with his wand. He gasped, watching in amazement as he saw the package expand. Neville wasn't quite familiar with this enchantment, perhaps he'd ask her about it in his response. His cheeks turned a brighter red. Response?

Did she want to speak to him more? He didn't want to assume but by her letter and her asking questions, it made it clear that this wasn't the last exchange she wanted to have. Was this a prank? Were the Weasley twins up to this? There was only one way to tell. Neville reached a shaky hand forward, opening the package as he closed his eyes expecting something to pop out at him but when he opened his eyes there was nothing but a box of snacks he had never seen before. He let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the racing in his heart.

After that, Neville and the girl started to talk quite a bit. Months had turned into years and he couldn't have been happier. It felt nice to have someone he could talk to, someone far away from all the hustle and bustle of the castle. To her he wasn't the kid with unfortunate luck or the "cowardly" boy in Gryffindor. He was just Neville, her boyfriend. Neville, her kind boyfriend in another continent, far away. 

(Y/n) loved Neville just as much. It wasn't that she never had suitors approach her. In fact, she had quite a few. (Y/n) was what you could consider popular, not that she cared. She was kind, smart, and beautiful. Who wouldn't want that? However, she always felt like none of the men who'd approach her got her. They all just saw her as a beautiful woman instead of what she was, a normal girl deserving of love. That's why she liked Neville so much. No matter what he always treated her with the utmost respect and that hadn't stopped when they started to date either. 

When the two had first exchanged photos, Neville was stunned. He had been talking to that beautiful of a girl? He couldn’t believe it. It was as if Olivander himself had sculpted and carved her out of the best of wood. She had glowing (s/c) skin, soft healthy looking (h/c) (h/c) hair, and a smile that could compete with the sun on its brightest of days and win. And when he found out she was single? He would’ve been a fool not to make a move. Angels as sweet as (Y/n) didn’t come around that often. 

And although their relationship was as great as can be there was the underlying sadness: they lived across the world from one another. Every time either of them would see a couple hug or kiss in school, they’d feel a twinge of jealousy pierce their hearts. It wasn’t fair that the most perfect person in the world was off enjoying themselves in their respective countries. Although (Y/n) tried to ignore it, Neville was the type to bring it up. He’d describe in the most beautiful of words what he’d do if they were together. How he’d hold her in his arms and show her off to all of his friends. Where he’d take her on a date, the plants he wanted to show her as they were both herbology geeks. Meanwhile she’d end each of the letters discussing this topic with the same phrase as usual. ‘You know I’m just a flight away. If you wanna I could take a private plane.’ He could never ask that of her though. As much as he’d love everyday to be filled with his flower, he wouldn’t wanna rip her away from the things she had going on in her own life.

It wasn’t all bad though! After the girl had taught him the charm she used when she first sent him something, they both would send each other gifts back and forth as much as possible. Neville sent her sweaters with his scent embedded, charmed flowers, chocolate frogs, anything she wanted was hers. She’d send her own things to remind him of her as well. Her favorite stuffed animal, loads of photographs, little crochet hats she made for Trevor, more...unsavory things as well definitely not her underwear. Despite the increase in objects Neville owned, none of his friends had questioned it until he started to wear a necklace with a heart shaped piece of onyx on it with the letter (Y/f/i) carved into it.

“Oi! Neville. Where’d you get that necklace from?” Ron questioned his friend who sat across from him in the Gryffindor common room. The boys had all decided to study together which of course turned into Neville studying as they goofed off. Neville tensed as his cheeks heated up turning a pink color.

“O-oh um..it’s from my girlfriend.” He said, saying the last word as soft as possible. He prayed to Merlin that his friends hadn’t heard him but unfortunately for him they had. It wasn’t that he didn’t want anyone to know about her. It was far from that. He was just a bit protective, he didn’t want anyone to try and steal her from him. Even though it was impossible since they had no contact with her, he never knew when it came to his friends. They always found a way to make the impossible possible.

“What year is she in?!”

“Who is it?!”

“No way, is she fit?!”

He finished at the chorus of voices, trying to calm them down so he could speak. They all scooted closer to him, looking up at him expectantly. “Well you see..” he trailed off, looking away as he played with the pendant around his neck. “She doesn’t go here. She attends school in Ilvermorny. But to answer your question, yeah she is bloody fit.” he responded, turning his attention back to the scroll of paper in front of him. Dean, Ron, and Seamus exchanged a look with each other trying to suppress their laughs.

“Yeah I’m sure she does Nev.” Dean said sarcastically as he joined the other two in laughter. Neville looked up at his friends confused at their behavior.

“Yeah Nev, if your nan sent it you could’ve just told us! Better than saying you’ve got a girl halfway across the world.” Ron said, pushing the boy slightly as he continued to laugh at him. Seamus was doubled over, snorting with laughter as fire whiskey shot from his nose causing the other two to howl with laughter.

“It’s not from my nan! My girlfriend really did send it to me.” he exclaimed, smacking Ron on the back of the head, before doing the same to the other two men. “Besides, you have some fucking nerve accusing me of lying when none of you have birds yourself.” he sneered, causing the boys to quiet down some.

“So harsh Neville, you didn’t have to go there mate! Well what’s this ‘girlfriend’ of yours called.” Seamus asked, doing air quotes as he mentioned the topic at hand. “You’d think it was a bit strange too if your friend suddenly mentioned a girlfriend who lived all the way in the states too wouldn’t you.”

“(Y/n). And I’ll have you know this isn’t a new thing. We’ve been dating since around 2nd year. Sure, I’d find it a bit strange if you mentioned a girlfriend in America that you had never brought up prior, but I wouldn’t find it impossible! Now if you excuse me, I have to go.” he quickly stood up, packing up his materials as he stormed off to the direction of his dorm. He sped up, ignoring the protest and begging of his friends to come back and continue to hang out with them. He had enough of them and he wasn’t gonna sit there and let himself be called a fucking liar by Hogwart’s biggest ones.

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

“Did you guys hear? Students from Ilvermony are supposed to be coming to visit!” Ron said, running up to the other four boys. “I’m just picturing how hot all the girls from the states are gonna be. All hot and leggy with those bloody accents. I could combust just thinking of it!” he exclaimed, flopping down on the couch. Neville gasped softly, looking up. Did he hear him correctly? 

“Where’d you hear that from? I didn’t hear anything of the sorts.” Hermione questioned, looking up from her book at the interesting news she had just heard. However, Neville was still frozen. Was this true? And if so, why hadn’t (Y/n) mentioned it. No, no it couldn’t be. She surely would have told him.

“I just overheard it from Dumbledore himself. They should be arriving in a few minutes! They’re staying here for a few months. It’s a part of this new thing that they’ve set up. Something about wanting the students to learn different methods and what not. They decided it’d be a good idea since summer is coming soon.” he said nonchalantly, looking over at Neville who hadn’t moved since the news left his mouth. He went to question what was up with him before his eyes lit up, recalling the conversation they had a few months ago. “Hey Neville? Didn’t your supposed ‘girlfriend’ go to Ilvermony.” the boys all suddenly interested began to ‘ooo’ exchanging looks with each other.

“See Neville, this is why you don’t lie. Lies will always come back to bite you in the rear. Perhaps Ronald i-”

“I wasn’t lying, Hermione! She really does go to Ilvermony.” he exclaimed, standing up as he wiped his hands on his pants. All of a sudden, there were the sounds of a bunch of American accents speaking which caught all of their attention. Many different students in Ilvermorny uniforms (some without them) roamed freely to explore the large and intense castle.

“God you weren’t kidding Ron, the girls are bloody fit.” Dean muttered, eyeing some girl who gave him a wink before giggling and running off with her friends. “Woah look at that one, are you kidding me? She’s a fucking goddess!” Neville’s curious hazel eyes followed his friend's words as he saw a familiar shade of (h/c) hair styled in the way his girlfriend wore it. Wait, was that his sweater? 

“That’s not just some fucking girl, that’s my girlfriend!” Neville exclaimed, standing up from his seat.

“No chance.”

“You couldn’t pick a more believable one?”

“Prove it then.”

Neville went to say something before the girl turned around, locking eyes with him. She gasped, tearing up some as she pushed through the crowd of people running to him as quickly as possible. “Nev! Neville babe, is that you?” she exclaimed. Neville’s face flushed brightly taking in the girl’s appearance. She had worn the first sweater he had given her, a mossy green sweater with an obscure pattern, with a pleated skirt pairing it with a pair of boots. Neville nodded his head quickly, holding his arms out as the girl ran into him almost knocking him over. He picked her up, spinning her around quickly before setting her down, holding her soft face between his hands.

“W-what are you doing here?! You never told me you were coming to visit!” he exclaimed, wiping at the stray tears that had left her eyes. He moved his hands from her face securing them around her waist as he stared down at her. God she was even more beautiful in person.

“I wanted to surprise you! I actually found out a few weeks ago and let me tell ya, it was SO hard not to tell you!” She giggled, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He leaned into her touch, smiling at her. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get even more handsome but bloody hell. You’re so fucking hot, Nev.” she said, feeling her face heat up. Neville flushed a bright red before leaning down, kissing the girl on the lips. She pulled him down more, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed back. The kiss was full of the love and affection they had both been craving from one another. (Y/n) tangled her hands in the back of his hair as he deepened the kiss, moaning softly. They both jumped away from one another at the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Ah sorry! Nev, are you going to introduce me to your friends?” she asked looking up at him as she intertwined his large hand with her smaller one.

“I suppose I will, even though for some reason they thought you weren’t real.” he quipped, glaring at the four boys who looked away ashamed. “From left to right there is Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus. And over there,” he said pointing to the big arm chair in the corner. “That is Hermione.” he said as they all muttered ‘hi’ and ‘sorry’ from some of them. (Y/n) giggled some, waving at them all.

“It’s very nice to meet you all! Nev talks about you guys all the time in his letters. Oh!” She said, eyes looking at his chest. She reached a hand forward, grabbing the engraved onyx in her hands. “The necklace I gave you!! You like it? I think it looks really good on you.” she exclaimed with a smile, happy her boyfriend enjoyed the gift she gave him. Neville once again looked at his friends chuckling some at their wide eyes.

“Of course I do, petal. I wear it everyday, everywhere I go. Right guys.” he teased, watching as they all stuttered out ‘yes ‘yep’ ‘sure does. “Come on flower, I’ll show you around the castle. I know you’ve been looking forward to that for a while. Also, you look quite cute in my sweater.”

“Thank you. I wear it quite often, even though the smell of you has worn off it still brings me good memories.” she said, playing with the slightly worn out sleeves of the sweater. “I’d love to!! Can we check out the greenhouse first? I wanna see that plant you were talking about. Maybe we can work on identifying what species it is!” he nodded in response, taking her hand once again as they began to walk off. Before they turned the corner, he quickly turned his head around using his unoccupied hand to flip off his friends before turning his attention back to his lover.

“Who would’ve thought? Longbottom with an absolute fox.” Ron said, slumping back down as he frowned. Hermione took the book she was reading smacking him upside the head.

“Maybe if you knew how to treat women you’d be with one too.”

[izzielizzie]

life’s uncertain and sometimes it’s strange chapter one

okay this is the fastest i’ve written the first chapter of a fic like... ever but here’s the crossover i considered writing here!! i actually had a lot of fun, and it jumps around so feel free to ask me questions about anything that doesn’t make sense

song title from The Sun Will Come Up, the Seasons Will Change by Nina Nesbitt

Maeve

Wednesday, December 15

“Okay so remind me what the problem is again?” Luis asks me as he sits on my bed, watching me pack my bags.

“The island, Luis."

Luis stares at me and I sigh, crossing my room to curl up in his lap. His arms go around me instantly. “And, what, my love, is wrong with an island?”

I sigh again, stretching out so my head is on my pillow. “It’s cold. There’s nothing fun about an island when it’s covered in ice!”

“Can you even get to an island in December?” Luis asks, absentmindedly drawing patterns on my stomach. When my mother had told our family over dinner last week that she had been invited to a mansion unveiling by her former best friend - some vaguely famous guy named Archer Story who basked in the glory of being young and rich in New England along with my mother - Bronwyn and I had no say in whether we were going or not. Our father got out of it easily with an arsenal of work excuses, but no trips to New York City with friends will stop our mother when she’s deep in her planning mode. Especially if it means she gets to go back to being rich on an island off the coast of Boston.

“That’s what I asked and Bronwyn laughed at me.”

Luis snorts. He and my sister have never gotten along as well as Nate and I do, but it’s stopped bothering me at this point. “Well, Maevey,” Luis hooks an arm under me and lifts me up so I’m sitting. “It’s just one week on the weird ass island and then you get to go to New York City with the rest of us. What could go wrong?”

I grin, my bad mood ebbing away at the thought of spending a week with my boyfriend and friends in one of my favorite cities. “Ugh fine.”

“Good. Now are you really going to bring all of my sweaters?”

I laugh as Luis lifts me up so we can sort out the sweater ownership debate that’s lasted for nearly a year now. 

Aubrey

Saturday, December 18 

“No plans of swimming in that water I hope?” Uncle Archer asks as I look at the ocean from the balcony of Catmint House. Yes. The same one that burnt down over the summer. Gull Cove Island is essentially the same as it was when I moved back to Oregon in July, with the exception of the large manor. 

When the media asked Aunt Allison and Uncle Archer what they wanted to do with the remains of their childhood home, they hadn’t said anything, but in secret they both agreed that burning the ashes might be overdramatic, but most certainly warranted. Almost as if they had overheard, the Gull Cove Island Historical Society swept in and restored the mansion to its former glory, ultimately gifting the new building to Milly and I. Since Jonah North isn’t really part of the family, it’s not his.

“Who the hell would want that place?” he’d asked when we told him about the exclusion. Fair point.

“Hey, hey, don’t look so sullen,” Uncle Archer says, bringing me back to myself as he slips an arm around me. I hug him back with all my might. When I think about how close we came to losing him, I want to cry.

“Sorry,” I mumble into his shoulder. 

“Don’t be. Now I hear we’ve got a family of three coming from California today. The kids are around your age.”

“Fun,” I say, making a face. Uncle Archer tugs on my sweater sleeve. 

“Hey, their mom was my best friend. They’re probably good kids.”

Almost on cue, the doorbell rings. 

“That’s them?” I ask as I look down at the black car that - presumably - houses the family in question. Archer nods. “You go. I’ll find Milly and Jonah.”

My uncle fakes a punch to my nose as he saunters off. I giggle. Rehab has done him well. I watch him walk away, and then exit the balcony into the hallway. I turn left towards my and Milly’s room, staying close to the middle of the hall. It’s strange being in here after what happened over the summer, especially since it feels almost unrealistic that everything could be restored so quickly. But I guess the fire Paula started didn’t really burn down the entire house. Just like, half of the inside. If I pause for long enough, I can still smell the smoke. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. Sometimes I’m fine, and other times I feel like I’m back with the gun pressed to my neck. I felt so helpless then, and I never want to feel that way again. 

I knock on the door to our room, and I hear Milly and Jonah’s voices floating towards me, half giggly, half teasing. Whatever is going on in there, I do not want to see. “I’m coming in!” I call, pushing the door open with my eyes shut. “There is a person. Entering this room!”

I hear a crash, and I open my eyes to see Jonah perched awkwardly on the corner of my bed. Oh fun. At least they’re separated. 

“What’s up Aubrey?” Milly asks, smoothing down her hair. After spending months angsting about cutting it or not, Milly decided on a respectable bob. She looks gorgeous, especially now that it’s grown enough to be just touching her shoulders. She’s more dressed up for the occasion than I am in a red knitted pullover tucked into a pair of black jeans. I glance down at my faded grey crew neck and my blue jeans.

“Should I change?” I ask in response. 

“No way! You look beautiful,” Milly says, standing and pulling me to stand in front of the mirror. I look at my long blonde hair. 

“Maybe I should just braid my hair or something?”

Milly huffs. “Jonah!”

“You look adorable Aubrey,” Jonah says dutifully from his spot behind us. I glance over at him. 

“Easy for you to say! You look like a J.Crew model.”

Jonah grins. “Wow you just described my life’s ambition Aubrey,” he says dryly.

I grin and shake my head. I’ve missed this: being back with my cousin and friend. Even if they do spend a lot of time kissing each other. “Come on you two, the first guests are here,” I say, throwing my arm around my cousin.

Ezra

Sunday, December 19

“Ellery please stop bouncing,” I say to my sister. We’re on a train to New York City from Boston and Ellery is way too excited.

“Ez! I can’t! Do you know how many unsolved murders there are in Manhattan alone?”

“No. I do not.”

“And no one should!” Mia adds from the seats behind us. Ellery turns to see if Malcolm will back her up, but he’s asleep. Probably exhausted from dealing with her. 

Ellery is still looking super excited so I turn to her. “Okay, I’ll bite. How many?”

“More than 480. And those are just recorded homicides.”

“Shhh,” I say, shushing Ellery as I catch sight of a red haired girl looking at us strangely from across the aisle. “Sorry, my sister’s really weird,” I say to her. She looks around our age. She’s wearing a fashionable beige coat and a black cap, but something about the way she’s burrowing into the jacket tells me she’s not used to the cold.  There’s a boy sleeping in the seat next to her, whose hand she hasn’t let go of.

The girl smiles. “It’s alright! My best friend solved two murders once.” She pauses and makes a face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” She shakes her head. “This is really odd, I'm sorry. I’m Phoebe Lawton.”

I grin. “I’m Ezra Corcoran, and this is my twin Ellery.”

Phoebe grins back. “Twins! That’s so cool. I don’t really know any twins.”

“Wait, can we go back to the part where you said your best friend solved two murders?” Ellery asks, leaning across me to look at Phoebe, who smiles a little. Mia groans from behind us. I turn to see her pull her headphones up over her ears. We exchange a look. Leave it to my sister to ask the awkward questions. 

“Yeah well, we’re from Bayview, California, and I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about the-”

“Oh. My. God.” 

I look down at Ellery, who looks as if she’s hit a goldmine. Phoebe looks startled but resigned. 

“We’re from California too, before we moved to Vermont,” I offer, surprised despite myself. The story of Simon Kelleher was all over California before we left, and if I’m not mistaken, I think I know who this girl is talking about.

“Wait so your best friend is Maeve Rojas?” Ellery asks. 

“Did someone say Maeve?” a new voice asks from the seat behind Phoebe. A boy who looks vaguely familiar with tan skin and wavy dark hair pokes his head into the aisle to look at Phoebe.

Ellery gasps. “You’re the boyfriend!”

The boy blinks slowly. “I… what?”

“Okay so in mysteries there’s always this boyfriend that is part of the drama but not really? And he like jumps around but he’s got a heart of gold and-”

“Ellery,” I hiss. “Let’s not reduce strangers to stereotypes please.”

“Murder?” yet another voice asks. This time it’s attached to a person the entire country knows well. Cooper Clay, pitcher for the Padres. Ellery takes a strangled breath. She looks up at me and I sigh. 

“Switch seats with me,” she says in her “don’t mess with me” voice. I happily oblige, pulling out my own headphones. Maybe Mia was right. Just leave this crazy girl to her own devices. 

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.7k

Warnings: swearing, angst, drunk, motion of death

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 2 Part 4

Part 3

In less than ten minutes, we had pulled up to Liam's house. Liam paid for the taxi too. I kind of argued this time, but he pointed out he asked me to his house. I didn't get too stubborn about it.

Liam was living in a four-story terrace house, recently renovated by the looks of it. It was painted white with black wrought iron lacework, and it was beautiful. The front door and windows were painted black. It appeared to be the twin of the house that shared its wall.

We entered through the dining room, and I realised it was actually the two houses renovated together. The inside was modern with original heritage touches. The floors were light timber, and the walls were white. The ceilings had plaster and cornice so beautifully ornate that restoration must have taken ages. The room had an imposing black marble fireplace and a deep brown, almost black wooden dining table set on a grey shag rug in the room's centre. A huge abstract painting of bright pinks, greens and grey hung on the wall.

"Wow, this must have cost a mint!" I quickly covered my mouth. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

"It's ok. I was pleasantly surprised by the house too. The studio got the house for me I...." Liam was interrupted by a massive dog bounding into the room.

Liam got down and roughhoused with the dog for a bit. Wow, he was a monster! I'd seen a picture of Cole before that "Will" had sent me, but I wasn't quite prepared for how big he was. He was almost completely black with some brown above his eyes and ears. His paws were brown too, and his belly was grey. He wasn't any particular breed, apparently a rescue dog. I thought of my bull terrier cross cattle dog at home. This dog would eat him for breakfast, and Perrin wasn't small.

Cole's pink tongue lolled, and he panted as Liam moved from side to side. Cole imitated Liam's actions jumping about. He barked a couple of times as he got excited by the play. The noise reverberated through the quiet house.

"Shhh, Cole, people are sleeping." Liam softly admonished. Then his voice became stern. "Sit," he ordered before patting him. Liam looked at me and said, "Lana, this is Cole. Cole, Lana."

"Hi, Cole. You're much bigger in person." I could hear the slight tremor in my voice. Liam must have sensed I was nervous and came over to stand near me. Cole padded over and sniffed at me. Gingerly, I put my hand by my side and let him approach me. Cole nuzzled my hand, and I gave him a pat on the side of his neck. I let out a sigh of relief.

"I was worried he wouldn't like me. I love dogs but always get nervous around new ones." Liam put his head to the side, asking a silent question. "I had a dingo go me one time, and I've never really gotten over it." I squatted down and gave Cole more pats. "I think this guy is ok, though."

"Yeah, he's a good boy. How is Perrin, by the way?"

"He's ok." I sighed, "he's just old. The poor little guy can't get onto my bed anymore and sleeps in my lounge room now. I kinda miss it, but I have slept a bit better."

Liam gave Cole some more pats and told him to go sit. "Come on. I'll make you a tea or coffee if you'd like." I agreed a coffee would be perfect right now. I needed something to sober me up.

I sat at the kitchen bench while Liam made coffees. Cole sat by my stool, and I patted his head while watching Liam. Liam had kicked off his shoes and was walking around in his bare feet. It was amazing to see him so much more relaxed here than while we were out. He really did appear to enjoy being at home.

As Liam made our coffee, he moved with a grace that surprised me. His movements seemed economical and rigid but hinted at the power beneath them. He seemed coiled and ready to explode at any moment. It was like he was dancing the pasodoble, his body moving to an invisible beat. Images of Strictly Ballroom came into my mind, and I found myself humming Love is in the Air. I was drunker than I thought.

When Liam was done, he led me over to his large L shaped lounge, and I sat. Liam flopped down next to me, casually laying back and popped his feet up on the coffee table. Cole sat on a mat that was clearly his.

I sipped my coffee, not knowing what else to do. Suddenly the quiet between Liam and I felt awkward.

Liam and I spoke at the same time, "What.." "So..."

We both laughed. Liam indicated I should proceed. "Well, I was going to ask what brought you out to Sydney, for real, not the Will answer."

"A new project. I'm going to be filming a television show." Liam proceeded to tell me about his project, working with some people from Netflix on a fantasy/sci-fi series adaptation. He was so animated when telling me that it was obvious that he loved his job.

It would be his first television series and was to be more romance heavy than anything he had done in years. Liam explained that he is filming here because the story was written and developed in Australia. "If it works out, I'll probably be based out of Australia for the next few years. I'll go home to England for a few months during breaks, maybe do some small film roles. It's hard with Cole, though, because every trip into Australia means 10 days quarantine for him."

"Oh yeah, and you don't want a Pistol and Boo situation." Liam looked confused, and I explained about Amber Heard and Johnny Depp smuggling their dogs into Australia.

"I thought you said you don't follow celebrity gossip."

"I don't, but that was big news, hilarious really. It was on every bit of media in Australia, and then they had to make this cringe video apology. I almost felt bad for them." Then I yawned, suddenly all the alcohol had lost its buzz, and I was just tired. "The coffee doesn't seem to be doing its job. What time is it?"

Liam looked at his watch, "11.30."

"Yeah, it's late. I should get home. I don't want to turn into a pumpkin." I cringed. Fuck.

"You don't have to go. You could stay here." I raised my eyebrows. "I do have more than one bed if that's what you want." Liam leaned over to me and placed a hand on my cheek, rubbing his thumb against my skin.

I looked at my nearly empty coffee mug. I swirled the dregs around the bottom as if it were tea leaves, and they would tell me what to do. "I don't want to go home yet, but I don't want to go too fast, either."

"That's ok."

I didn't move. I wanted to stay. Ten years ago, I would have stayed, but Andy's face flashed into my thoughts. I knew it was ridiculous. Andy had been gone for over three years now. But every time I even contemplated being with someone, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Liam was waiting for an answer, but I didn't know what to tell him. 'It's not you, it's me' is such a tired cliche, but sometimes it's true.

"Lana, it's ok. If you want to go home, that's absolutely fine. I'll even call you an Uber."

I felt my eyes sting, and I looked away from Liam. My bloody traitorous tear ducts giving me away. I shouldn't have drunk so much. Alcohol always makes me emotional.

"Fuck." I swore under my breath. I angrily wiped at my eyes, thankful I had used waterproof mascara. My eyeliner was a different story, though, and black streaked my fingers. I asked Liam where his bathroom was, and I got up, only half listening to his directions. I found it quickly. It was only through the doorway into a little enclave with a powder room, stairs and a lift. What kind of bloody house has a lift?

I closed the door and sat on the toilet seat. I knew enough not to try to stop the tears, so I just let them go. Bloody hell, Andy. Why did he fucking have to leave me? Why the fuck did you have to fucking die. Goddammit. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I do this to Andy? I wanted to scream, to punch something, to throw something. I needed another cigarette. Fuck you, Andy. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck Liam.

As I always did when I thought of Andy, I remembered the last time I saw him. His sweet face looked down at me as he kissed me goodbye. His deep brown hair fell like a curtain around us, hiding our kiss from the world. Cheekily I had slipped my tongue into his mouth, and he had groaned as he pulled away. He told me to save it for when he got back and would be as quick as he could be. I had thanked him for filling in for me. He winked and said to thank him later. Then he left.

When I was able to, I started to take deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I could feel the tightness in my chest slowly ease. Breathing became more comfortable, and the tears stopped. I looked at my hands, and I was able to release the fists I was making. My nails hadn't broken the skin this time, but small red crescents remained etched into my palms.

I waited a few minutes longer to make sure the moment had passed. It wasn't Andy's fault he died, and I knew that. It's also not my fault that I wanted someone to love again. Sleeping with someone other than Andy felt like crossing the Rubicon, no going back.

The fact was there is no going back, no Andy to go back to, even if I wanted. In my head, it still felt like a betrayal. But it wasn't. And Liam wasn't just anybody. He was a guy I had spent weeks talking to, getting to know, and although he looks different, he is still acting as I had expected. I saw a potential future here. Did I really want to let my past ruin it?

I cleared my throat and stood up, preparing myself to see the horror that looked back at me. Ugh, it wasn't great. My eyeliner had given me panda eyes, and the tears had created streaks down my cheeks.

Getting a tissue and blew my nose, and decided there was nothing else for it, I washed my makeup off my face. I avoided washing my eye makeup off though, that was a mess I just didn't have the products for, so I just wiped under my eyes and cleaned it up. I binned my tissues, washed my hands, took a few more deep breaths and prepared myself to face Liam.

I opened the door and walked straight into something solid that made me bounce back into the bathroom like a tennis ball. Hands caught me before I hit the floor, and I found myself in Liam's arms.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" He asked.

"No," I was flustered again. I spent all that time calming down to just be in a state two seconds later. "I just didn't expect you to be outside the door. Jesus, you're like a brick shit house."

Liam didn't laugh. "I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," I lied.

Liam didn't look convinced. He let me go and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now."

Liam nodded. "I'll get you that Uber." He pulled his phone out.

That's it then. All in all, it wasn't the worst date I'd been on since Andy died. Actually, it was probably the best. Liam, at least, was a guy I was attracted to and didn't appear to be a man child. He seemed to like me, even when I cried over another man. Although I doubt Liam knew that's why I was crying. I had told him I was married before and he had died, but that was only once and a long time ago, and we hadn't discussed it again.

The tears had done their job, and a calmness came over me now. I had said goodbye to Andy, and I was ready to take that last step to move on. That was why I started to date again; to open my heart, I was ready.

I put my hand on Liam's wrist, "if you still want me to, I'd like to stay."

"Are you sure? I probably shouldn't have asked in the first place. I let my other head think for me." Though I laughed at his candid admission, Liam's face was serious. "I'm not joking. I want you, and I didn't think about how you must be feeling. The whole fake profile thing must still be weighing on your mind. And all of the other problems that go along with being with me. You should have more time to think about it."

And my dead husband, let's not forget that. I didn't say that out loud, thank God. "I will have time to think about it. But right now, I want..." Shit. I've gone shy again. Just fucking tell him you want him too! "I mean, can't we just have a bit of a cuddle and a snog?"

Liam's lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile, "a cuddle and a snog?"

I nodded.

Smiling, Liam put his phone back in his pocket. "I think I can arrange that."

Without further warning, Liam grabbed my wrists in one hand and pinned them to the wall above my head. His other hand snaked around my waist, holding me to him, his hips rolling into mine. His eyes were fierce and focused on mine. I  closed my eyes, the sensations too much, and my breath quickened.

I heard Liam say through gritted teeth, "It's taken everything I had not to do this to you since I saw you at the bar. I wanted to take you then and there." His voice seemed to ease, the words coming easier for him. "You don't know how much I've wanted to touch you. To know you are real." Then he whispered, "and you are. Real. You're as beautiful tonight as you were in your pictures."

I opened my eyes and found Liam staring at me, and his intensity was nearly frightening. He pulled me tighter against himself, his fingertips digging into me while he crushed me against his body. I felt his hardness against my hip, and I couldn't stop myself from rubbing against it. This time Liam closed his eyes, and I felt the rush of blood to my centre.

Liam opened his eyes, desire naked on his face, "Kiss me," he said.

I met his soft and warm lips. I felt Liam's groan rumble in his vast chest, and kissing him again, my lips scraped against his whiskers. Liam kissed me back now. His tongue pushed past my lips, and found mine. His tongue playfully danced in my mouth. Liam's hand left my arse and started to feel my hips, my waist and then my breasts. He cupped them and gently squeezed. My breath caught as his hand skimmed past my nipple. His palm created friction against the lace of my bra, and tingles radiated through my body.

His lips left mine and went to my neck. He kissed and sucked at me, moving down to the top of my breasts. I heard him take a deep breath into my chest as his cheeks rubbed against my skin. His kisses became harder against my chest and moved back up to my neck, his teeth nipping at me as he went. Even though he had me captured, I wriggled against him, my hips moved uncontrollably, my breath uneven and weak.

Liam pulled away, still firmly gripping one of my hands. "Come with me." Liam led me to the lift.

"Where are we going?"

"To my bedroom." I pulled against him, forcing him to stop. "Sweetheart, I promise I won't fuck you until you ask."

My legs turned to jelly. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg despite my reservations. I nodded and followed Liam into the lift.

Part 4

[time-and-space-penguin]

Just finished this sketch of George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham!

Villiers is best known for being the favorite (read: boyfriend) of King James I of England. The two met in 1614 during a hunting trip, and Villiers quickly started rising in rank. Not only because James thought he was hot, but also because some of the noblemen thought James’ previous favorite, Robert Carr, was a pain in the ass and they wanted to replace him.

By 1615, Villiers was knighted as a Gentleman of the Bedchamber (which actually isn’t as gay as it sounds itself, that job largely consisted of waiting on the king when he ate and helping him dress). He was later made Master of the Horse, an Earl, a Marquess, then by 1623 James made him the Duke of Buckingham, meaning that Villiers was now the highest-ranking man outside of the royal family.

Their relationship was hardly a secret at court. A French guy even once wrote a poem that basically listed a bunch of gay couples from classical mythology and then went “oh yeah, and also King James is fucking the Duke of Buckingham.” James had responded to rumors back in 1617, with this very sweet statement:

James called him “Steenie”, after St. Stephen, who was said to have had "the face of an angel". And in 2004, when people did some restoration on Apethorpe Palace, they found a secret passageway that had connected the bedchambers of James and Villiers.

In 1623, Villiers headed off to Spain with James’ son Charles (later Charles I), in order to make an arrangement for Charles’ marriage to the Spanish Infanta Maria Anna. The negotiations ended disastrously, though: Spain wouldn’t budge on a whole bunch of Catholic vs Protestant issues, and Villiers got into a heated argument with a Spanish noble. When he and Charles sailed home a few months later, he was so pissed off that he tried to get James to start a war with Spain. It didn’t happen though, James did very much not want a war with Spain.

After James died in 1625 and Charles became king, Villiers continued to chill at the top of the social ladder. That is, until he was stabbed to death in a pub in 1628 by an army officer named John Felton.

Villiers is also a character in The Three Musketeers (which I’ve never read tbh). His grand-niece, Barbara Villiers, became a mistress of Charles II, so I guess sleeping with kings runs in the family. ;)

[orbemnews]

Uprooting Colonialism From the Fossil-Finding Field In 2019, Mohamad Bazzi, a doctoral student at Uppsala University in Sweden, launched an expedition to Tunisia in search of fossils. He and his colleagues traveled to the phosphate mines around the city of Gafsa, where 56 million-year-old rocks record a time of rapidly warming oceans and mass extinctions, particularly of apex predators like sharks. Mr. Bazzi made some distinctive choices for this paleontological expedition. For starters, his team hired Tunisians to help dig, rather than bringing students from his university. Mr. Bazzi and his colleagues also chose to reach out to the residents of Gafsa wherever possible, holding impromptu lectures on the area’s fossil history to interested onlookers. This was a contrast with the secretiveness of many paleontologists in the field, who might worry about their sites being raided for the fossil black market. The fossils the team collected from Gafsa are important for learning more about how animals adapted to the hothouse world of the Eocene, a period that may foretell what’s in store for the planet in coming years if carbon emissions don’t slow. But while Mr. Bazzi’s team removed the fossils from Tunisia, they did so under an agreement with local institutions that Mr. Bazzi himself insisted on: After he finished his research, the remains would be returned. Historically, these specimens are seldom returned, and locals may never see them again. But Mr. Bazzi and his colleagues are part of a movement among the next generation of paleontological researchers, one attempting to change scientific practices that descend directly from 19th century colonialism, which exploited native peoples and their natural histories. Over the last few decades, multiple countries have demanded the return of looted art, antiquities, cultural treasures and human remains from museum collections in North America and Europe. Countries such as Mongolia and Chile have likewise demanded the return of collected fossils, from tyrannosaur bones to the preserved remains of giant ground sloths. “There’s a consistent pattern with these specimens of high scientific or aesthetic value, where they’re taken out of the developing world and shipped abroad to be displayed and shown to a wider audience elsewhere,” Mr. Bazzi said. “There should be some balance so that local parties have a say in what happens to them.” Many countries with less money to spend on funding their own scientists are home to important fossil deposits that could drive major advances of our understanding of the prehistoric world. If the field of paleontology is to move forward, these researchers say, it’s important to figure out how to study specimens in these places without extending colonial legacies. That will take the development of a different approach to the field, more like the ones being tried by Mr. Bazzi and other scientists that rely less on extraction and more on collaboration with and the development of local institutions. While many cultures throughout human history have long traditions around collecting or studying fossil remains, the discipline of scientific paleontology — as well as the formation of modern natural history museums — arose in the 18th century, when European powers were actively colonizing large swaths of the globe. According to Emma Dunne, an Irish paleontologist at University of Birmingham in England, European scientists were part of a colonial network that sucked natural wealth — including fossils — into imperial capitals. In the 20th century, some countries pushed back. Brazil and Argentina provide government funding of paleontology. Those countries and others, such as Mongolia, established laws forbidding the export of fossils from within their borders. The two South American countries also mandate that foreign researchers work with local paleontologists for research on fossils found in the country. “You still do have non-Argentinian researchers working with local ones, for example,” said Nussaibah Raja-Schoob, a Mauritian paleontologist based at Germany’s University of Erlangen-Nuremberg. “But you definitely see that there is a bigger local influence.” Even in the aftermath of colonialism, however, fossils from across the globe still tend to end up in American and European museums. Some are collected through approved scientific expeditions. But because fossils are also traded privately, fossil-rich countries with fewer resources and legal protections often see interesting and potentially valuable finds put up for auction in Western markets. Questions about where fossils belong and who is best suited to work on them have sparked sharp controversies in recent years. In some cases, researchers have raised concerns about the ethics of working on such privately collected fossils — particularly those which may have been exported illegally. At the same time, paleontologists in Western countries have bristled at the rules required by countries like Brazil. In one case in 2015, David Martill, a paleobiologist at the University of Portsmouth in England, dismissed questions about his team’s lack of collaboration with Brazilian researchers on a specimen found there. “I mean, do you want me also to have a Black person on the team for ethnicity reasons, and a cripple and a woman, and maybe a homosexual too just for a bit of all round balance?” he said in an interview at the time with Herton Escobar, a Brazilian science journalist. Dr. Martill said in an interview in December that he chose his words poorly. But he said he remains opposed to laws that dictate where fossils go. In 2020, he was a co-author of a paper on another find exported from Brazil and described without a Brazilian co-author. “I do not think governments should dictate who works on fossils,” he said. “I think scientists should be able to choose who they work with.” These sorts of controversies are one example of the way the discipline’s colonial history lingers, Ms. Raja-Schoob says. But there are others. Much of global paleontology is still conducted in languages like English, German and French. And according to an ongoing research project by Ms. Raja-Schoob and Dr. Dunne, countries with higher G.D.P.s — places like the United States, France, Germany and China — tend to report more fossil data, in part because they have the money to invest in academic paleontology programs. Many institutions around the world have neither the tools nor enough government support for sophisticated studies of fossils. But that is something scientific institutions from wealthier countries can help with. “We have to ask why we’re bringing this knowledge to the centers, rather than spreading it out,” Dr. Dunne said. “We can work with things like 3-D scans of fossils, we can work with digital data sets. The problem obviously is getting funding for museums to do this for themselves.” Ms. Raja-Schoob said that academic funding could promote geology and paleontology in more countries. “Why not put that money into local people doing something?” she asked. “At the end of the day we are all going to be using that data. So why should they not also benefit?” While the fossil riches present in the rocks of North Africa and the Levant have long drawn fossil hunters and scientists, Mr. Bazzi said, the majority of fieldwork has resulted in fossils being exported to European or American institutions. Mr. Bazzi’s parents are from Lebanon, while his colleague Yara Haridy — a doctoral student at Berlin’s Museum für Naturkunde — was born in Egypt. Because of the lack of opportunities, neither can find steady academic work in paleontology in the Middle East. As part of their trip to Gafsa, both wanted to try to start building up paleontological resources instead of just removing them. That was part of what led Mr. Bazzi and Ms. Haridy — after many careful conversations with local participants over coffee and tea — to the ruins of a museum in the small mining town of Métlaoui. The museum had been burned down during the protests of the 2011 Jasmine Revolution that helped trigger the Arab Spring. It had not been restored, and on their third day in Tunisia, a mining engineer told them it might be worth visiting. Stepping carefully through the ruins, they found an unexpected wealth of fossil material: immense turtle shells, crocodile jawbones, dinosaur vertebrae and even ancient human remains, all scattered across dusty floors and charred rubble. The collection had to be salvaged, the team decided, but not taken out of the country. “Every other question we got was, ‘Oh, are you guys going to take this stuff?,’” Ms. Haridy said. “And we told them, no, it’s yours. It should stay here. It’s part of this region’s story.” Instead, they partnered with the people of Métlaoui to help them save the remains. Within a day, the town’s mayor and other community authorities had assembled local workers and students from Gafsa University. Mr. Bazzi’s team handed out gloves and masks and a stream of Métlaoui residents went to work pulling fossils from the ruins. “It was a pretty big operation,” Ms. Haridy said. “Everyone got really excited.” The team cataloged the bones before boxing and sending them to a government facility in Gafsa. The hope is that the museum remains will provide the nucleus for an ongoing paleontology program at Gafsa University; Mr. Bazzi has been helping to supervise interested students. One such student, Mohammed Messai, said that he didn’t know much about paleontology before meeting Mr. Bazzi, but that he’s now made identifying the fossils recovered from the museum part of the research for his master’s degree in science. It’s important for paleontologists to build genuine partnerships with local researchers, Ms. Haridy said. Not only does this create community engagement and prompt people to regard fossils as worth protecting, it also helps ensure that specimens are properly studied when they are returned to their country of origin. “There’s this problem where even if a country demands fossils back, like Egypt did for a long time, a lot of the paleontological knowledge doesn’t necessarily return with it,” she said. Without investing in independent paleontology programs in the countries in question, fossils can end up “consigned to a dusty room, where nobody knows what to do with it.” But efforts to create more inclusive and distributed paleontological networks face considerable headwinds. “Funders don’t necessarily put any emphasis on the ethical side of the research,” Dr. Dunne said. “We do rely a lot on other countries for their data. Fossils are worldwide, they’re global, they don’t respect political boundaries. But we should be identifying these patterns of colonial bias in our research and stopping them.” To some extent, the presence of these conversations is itself a sign of change. “When I began paleontology some 45 years ago these issues were of no concern,” Dr. Martill said. “Today, they seem to be dominating paleontological discussions. Perhaps it is me who is now out of touch.” He added that, “a fantastic new generation of paleontologists emerging and they are flexing their muscles and demanding different things.” For now, Mr. Bazzi’s team hopes to drive funding toward local paleontology in Tunisia. “Ideally, the Tunisian government would just believe these people on their own and agree that their fossils are important and worthy of preservation, and is of international interest,” Ms. Haridy said. “But they tend to get interested once scientists are actually actively trying to visit and actively trying to work with people.” “You now have local people starting to drive this themselves,” Mr. Bazzi said. “Eventually there will be no need for others to come and do it.” Source link Orbem News #Colonialism #field #FossilFinding #Uprooting

[shy-magpie]

RQG 145

My first EA episode and I'm getting to it 4 hours after release because I'm so excited about joining the Patreon I can’t focus. Its silly but hey birthday money well spent if it makes me this happy right? Ok I think I'm centered enough to hit play.

Eee its going to be my name there someday!

Poor Cel! Poor Azu!

I'm impressed, Alex managed to summarize pretty well given  the circumstances.

Hamid: oh dear! Skraak: Skraak, pressure equalization, Skraak!

What! I was right - he has been getting clearer! Did Alex imply he has been playing up how drugged is? Smart way to get a sense of the party while he gets his feet under him if so.

Thank you Alex, we need those numbers. Oh poor Hamid is confident on a 3.

Skraak is helping! Hamid is listening to him!

~~~Party time~~~

Alarms!

Blast doors? Yes! They won't drown!

Azu! Cel! Zolf!

Point Cel, Shoin seems actively against being useful

Nice, Salt Beard coming up properly after all this time! Scary sounds! Bubbles! Thats got to be a good sign right? Loving the bit with Zolf's thumb!

Not clear what happened plot wise, but Ben did some nice work showing Zolf’s emotions in ways I can’t put into works. Healing time! It is a very Cel, TBF, to quantify their health

Speaker time! Oh thank goodness everyone is healed up. Yeah the food's poisoned we got that with the brunch Hamid was dragged from.

Sweet, torches in the bags of holding are fine.

Loving the character interactions, especially Zolf and Cel bonding over Shoin’s bad design.

Bryn! Alex! That is an actual crime! Conspiracy to commit angst!

I love Zolf's growth!

I will need a transcription of this scene!

Cel was in war zones?

Speakers again

~~~

Hamid is humming opera music (Carmen?)

Scratch? Skraak has been marking the path when Hamid didn't think of it. I love Skraak! Hamid dear, when you get a moment, I know there's a lot on your mind: double check on Skraak's name and pronouns would ya? Also Hamid is doing awesome with the changes. I had faith in him but its great hearing him cheerfully ask Skraak for input as a local expert; instead of trying to force the pattern that worked before even as Skraak gets less kid like. Love to see how this shakes out, even though I confess Hamid having a new younger sibling was a treat. OK enough tangent let's open a hatch!

Oh pressure gauge! I wonder if that helps with more than flooding.

Wrench! I love a call back.

That's one way to refer to Hamid's abilities. Also I am aware of Zolf and Hamid's dwindling spell slots; I am just convincing myself they will be able to camp for the night in a safe hallway before Alex Shoin happens.

Oh good something is maintained around here.

Green light? Alex, did you come up with the hidden doors purely to mess with theoretical maps? Because Babs has been doing pretty well so far but I'll be her second if she challenges Alex to a fight in the parking lot after this episode.

~~~Break time, no ad is surprisingly weird, on edit listen is an ad with Mike that proves once again that I am so far gone on RQ that I even find the ads charming~~~

Oh more Hamid time!

That was a lot of dice, no numbers that I caught. Oh dear! (Was that Ben teasing him?)

In the rafters of a very large room. Huge domed ceiling, sounds pretty. Have I gone 20 minutes without saying how much I love Alex's set design? Thank you Ben, I will google it, *sticks out tongue*. Seriously as long as you enunciate and don't get into stuff so niche you lose people in England too, then don't worry about us from the US. Honestly you guys worry about everything, the occasional missed reference isn't worth the brainspace.

Still not happy about the lack of maintenance, especially given that's what stands between the party and drowning

Skraak sounds worried: it is his first time down this far and sounding more himself by the second. Still no hint of second guessing throwing in with Hamid! As good as Bryn is at avoiding spoilers, I thought he wouldn't have brought up Cohort on the discord if Skraak took it really badly as they sobered up, but is still a relief. Not that I would blame Skraak for much short of turning out to be the secret Big Bad: the circumstances were pretty messed up; even if I stand by saying you can't leave someone who pledged to you and isn't in a position to cover that up if their old boss catches them. Yes I know a conversation about spiders not being the most dangerous thing the party used on Kobolds is coming but with Skraak not turning out to be a kid, it might be more tense but cut my concerns in half. Hell the Kobolds might well be able to fend for themselves post Shoin if they loot the place in compensation.

"I still think that might be an exaggeration"

Oh Hamid has the Elven cloak too. How do you wear two cloaks at once? And don't say you don't, Hamid is not losing 4 levels of dragon awesome (or however Pathfinder put it) in the middle of a dungeon.

Skraak remembers the health potion and doesn't mind being asked to hang back. Hamid arms Skraak with a injection spear. Has the canisters for it too. I may have underestimated him (or on the Doylist level this falls under reasonable retcon; then again I might just have missed Bryn saying he was pocketing this stuff because I thought he would run it by Zolf). *Shrugs* please keep a sample for testing, I have a pet theory I'd love to see tested.

Alex, just...thanks for using a tone of voice that made it completely clear you were joking

Skraak: Skraak avenger, death from above etc! Hamid: Remember, General Skraak Avenger! Hamid remembers what he said to Skraak whether they do or not! OK like I said I loved Hamid adopting Skraak as a new little brother but this new phase is a lot of fun if harder to quantify.

Oh the sleeves! The cloaks don't have to have much physical presence, do they? That makes sense. Sleeves and prestidigitation? Right after being so charming with Skraak? Hamid is in fine form

Alex is just feeling mischievous tonight, I like it.

An enormous pipe organ? I love Alex's set design. (also one day my brain will pull up the right person the first time when someone references Bill Nye or Bill Nighy but even with the Pirates context today is not that day)

I know, Ben, cosmetic or not its fricken awesome.

I don't like the pipes, I don't get the pipes, but I don't like them (that fine mesh better not imply there is something airborne in the complex)

Is it wrong that other than the more obviously ominous bits this sounds like a great place to live?

Chaise longue

Is this seriously set up for the party -wait... Did Hamid skip to the end of the maze with only Skraak for back up and no sleep!?! No reunion or camping scene first? Not even a spell restoring nap?!

Human IOD? ALEX, WHAT IS UP WITH THIS FIGURE? ITS SHOIN RIGHT? ITS GOTTA BE.

Don't listen to Ben, Alex will get you if you jump to conclusions. That's my dragon! Sneaky lad learned from Sasha!

~~~Of course he is switching to the party. Man has a sense of timing.

More party favors, daggers make my heart twinge

Azu takes Cel’s hand to guide them

Gonna light a torch? Or is Zolf keeping up his anti light thing.

Alex is simplifying things No Zolf is not throwing open the door. Oh thank hope, Zolf is lighting a torch. Pathfinder jokes

We like it too Alex!

I like the zone thing.

Cel, I adore you! Zolf just promised backstory! Get that down! And a miner/minor pun, these people are the best! Oh tin miner!

Lights! Golden bulkhead! Seriously where is this guy getting his money?

Azu spots a trap! Yes Alex, we respect your craft. Trip wire!

I love the boots

Oh Cel is clumsy, I hadn't actually noticed that.

Genre savvy Cel hulks out with bat wings! Claws! Fangs! HP goes up thank all the gods! (Azu lets go of their hand)

Ben needs to look up spells but Zolf is prepared Azu puts on the iron beard

They throw open the door!

~~~

Poor Bryn, stuck waiting for the next episode like us listeners to find out the results.

I've been re listening to some early episodes and I really missed the "byes". It's a silly sign off but I think that comfort with silly might be part of why I like it?

Re: the bloopers, it would have been a little funny if they did a “detect traps” and got knocked out like when Hamid tried detect magic in, was it Rome?

OK bottom line: Skraak is awesome; I still miss Sasha but at least Lydia can be a bat even if it isn’t cloak of the bat; Zolf came back better than ever and actually wants to have at least 2 real conversations; and Azu is a champ for doing so well despite her phobias (which are still taken seriously because Helen and RQ are friggen awesome). Fun and pulpy, that's how ya do it! Stakes from the sea floor to the stratosphere! Character moments! Sets that make Hollywood weep in jealousy!

Okay okay some people may be stressed out after that even though everyone ended up fighting fit, which is fair, ok? but physical peril? Just a roller coaster to me, I'll take it any day of the week and twice on Sundays!

[scotianostra]

On July 22nd 1298 William Wallace's army was routed at The Battle of Falkirk. 

With the phenomenal success of Stirling Bridge under his belt, Sir William Wallace, Guardian of the Realm of Scotland, continued his campaign of guerrilla warfare upon the Northern English counties.

While being remembered as a warrior  Wallace was also active in trying to restore trade between Scotland and Europe which had been nearly halted by English efforts. In a remarkable letter, we now know as "The Lübeck letter" tried to persuade German cities (Hamburg and Lübeck) to restore trade with the Scots declaring that “through battle, the Scots have been freed from the tyranny of the English"

Throughout the rest of 1297, Wallace ravaged the Border land of England for corn and cattle. Such a turn of events wrenched Edward I back from his negotiations in France with King Philip. He transferred his headquarters to York. Now he would hammer the Scots. Feudal dues were called upon. Crossbowmen from Gascony and Welsh archers were recruited. So were foot soldiers from Ireland to serve in the English campaign.

De Warrenne, the Earl of Surrey and Sussex having failed at Stirling to stop Wallace, forced Edward to march north himself. He assembled at York the largest invasion force to enter Scotland since the days of Agricola. It consisted of perhaps as many as 2,500 heavily armoured knights and at least 12,500 infantry. Eight earls joined Edward: the Marshal, the Constable, Ralph de Monthemer, Arundel, Guy of Warwick and the young Earls of Lancaster and Pembroke, each bringing their own large contingents of minor knights and infantry, swelling his host to a monstrous size. By June Edwards army were at Roxburgh, but Wallace would have had his spies watching the English army, and would not be drawn into a full scale battle on Edwards terms. 

Unfortunately for Scotland the French had come to an uneasy peace with England and The Auld Alliance could not be invoked, we stood alone against a battle hardened army, ripe from plundering the continent. 

But the English army was not without its problems, the fleet that should have provisioned it had been delayed by weather. It was undisciplined. Welsh archers quarrelled viciously with Gasons, and sickness raddled its splendid chivalry. At Kirkliston, near Linlithgow, Edward decided to fall back on Edinburgh, where he might calm and feed his mutinous men.

One of the stories goes that when a few ships did get through, they were only carrying two hundred barrels of wine, which were then issued to Welsh soldiers. The Welsh got drunk and rioted, so Edward sent in his household knights to restore order. Eighty Welshmen were killed, along with eighteen priests who had tried to mediate.

This story comes from the quill of the chronicler Walter of Guisborough, a "notable fantasist" when it came to Welsh affairs. The actual evidence tells a different story. In July 1298 seventeen supply ships from Yorkshire arrived at Berwick. Only five of these reached the army at Kirkliston before the battle. Now if we know anything about the English it is how good they were at recording everything, the purse strings were tight and it all had to be accounted for, there are records that still exist telling us what actually made it to Edwards army. reads as follows:63 quarters of malt, 7 meat carcasses, 250 quarters of oats, 725 quarters of wheat.

As you can see, there was no wine; certainly not 200 barrels of the stuff, to the exclusion of all else. It also doubtful that anyone would have been stupid enough to issue wine to the infantry on empty stomachs. The above supplies have been calculated as enough to feed 20,000 men for a week.

While we don't know how many Scots Wallace had at his command that day he is thought to have not been willing to meet the English in open battle, his tactics, used by Bruce years later, were Guerrilla warfare, small battalions of men hitting targets and what they couldn't carry away they destroyed, what is now called a scorched earth policy, Wallace had to try and starve Edwards force, hence the supply ships being so important. 

Edwards army is also said to have had problems with defence, and again numbers back this up, many Welsh had headed home, 195 within a month according to their records, far more worrying were the infantry numbers that were dwindling. For the period up to 20 July infantry numbers reached a peak of 25,781. In the next 24 hours - before the battle - there was a drop of over 3000 to 22,497. It seems desertion was reaching chronic levels, and the battle occurred just in time to prevent the army falling apart.

Nobody knows why Wallace was drawn into a full on fight on this day in 1298, some say his army were "itching" for a fight and with the enemy in sight would have been arguing with Wallace, possibly sensing he was losing the morale he may have given in and given them what they wanted. Perhaps he also thought the English army were hungry and unruly. So on 21st July, Wallace led his army forward to meet the English. In the early dawn of the following morning scouting parties from the two opposing forces met each other near Falkirk, heralding the opening of battle.

Wallace had heard of the troubles in Edwards Army and had planned a night attack upon the English camp, but two ignoble peers, jealous of his power, went to the English King’s side and warned him. These traitors, unnamed, told Edward where Wallace was encamped in the forest near Falkirk and told of Wallace’s position and intended tactics.“Thanks be to God, who hath hitherto extricated me from every peril!, exclaimed Edward. “I shall go forth to meet them”.

Wallace had badly misjudged the fighting condition of the English army, but he came to the field well prepared. He realised that his infantry must defeat Edward’s cavalry and this had not happened for centuries. With the experience of Stirling Bridge behind him this seemed possible, although it was a rare event in medieval warfare of that period. He had trained his ferocious and hearty soldiers to fight in four tight box or oval formations, schitrons. However Wallace’s formations hadn’t yet mastered moving in unison, as  Bruce would do later on. They stood in one defensive position and tried to hold out. In addition to the front row of spear points, the unit was further protected by two more rows (triple rows) of the twelve foot spears, pointing outwards, the front rows kneeling whilst those behind stood. All around the marching ground were stakes, murder holes and ropes tied to the stakes to trip up English horses.

By an unusual twist of historical fate, Edward also came to Falkirk with new tactics. He had learned from bitter experience in his Welsh Wars of the devastating firepower of the south Welsh longbowmen; and despite the cost and difficulty of dealing with the Celtic Welsh and their constant quarrelling with the English, he now included large numbers of them (for a price) in his army and began to use them as part of his coordinated battle plan. It would set the tone of English battle tactics for the next two centuries and serve the English remarkably well in France during the One Hundred Years War.

On St. Magdalen’s day, 22 July, the army came in sight of the Scot’s position.The English heavy cavalry was the greatest threat to the Scottish force and accordingly Wallace adopted a defensive formation. Drawing his men up on firm ground fronted by a stream and a marsh, he configured his army into four densely packed schiltrons (phalanx rings). Each man was armed with a four metre spear which collectively provided an impenetrable barrier to a cavalry attack.  Further protection was achieved by a placing a palisade of sharpened stakes around the formations. Wallace placed his archers between each schiltron and put his small cavalry contingent to the rear.

The English approached from the south in the traditional three battle formation. The vanguard, which included a significant cavalry component, was led jointly by Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk. The middle guard was under Antony Bek, Bishop of Durham with Ralph Bassett as his deputy. The rear guard was under the Edward I himself.

Despite the dominant Scottish position, the English were keen to attack. The two Earls dismissed the stream across the battlefield as insubstantial and advanced on the Scottish centre. However, whilst the stream may have been small, it was surrounded by boggy ground which was quite unsuitable for cavalry. The advance of the vanguard was thus slowed and slewed right.

Seeing the vanguard move to the right, the Bishop of Durham cautiously moved his middle guard to the left to open the opportunity of a co-ordinated attack on the Scottish flanks. However, he was wary of sending his cavalry component forward given the dominant Scottish position. His caution was vigorously opposed by his deputy, Ralph Bassett, who led his cavalry forward regardless. Bassett's cavalry likewise found their attack defused by the bog but their advance was threatening enough to scare off the Scottish cavalry who fled the field without engaging. However, both English cavalry formations had lost their speed and were unable to penetrate the densely packed schiltrons. Instead they turned upon the Scottish archers who, with no cavalry force to protect them and being outside of the schiltrons, were slaughtered. Their leader, John Stewart, died alongside his men.

Having witnessed his cavalry failing to make an impression of the schiltrons, Edward I sounded the recall. With his Knights recovered to his own lines, he advanced his archers - Crossbowmen from Gascony and Longbowmen from Wales and the Marches - to attack the schiltrons. The massed, static Scottish formations formed the perfect target and heavy casualties were inflicted. Crucially their ranks were thinned and the wall of spears, that hereto had so effectively kept the English cavalry at bay, started to have gaps.

The English cavalry, now reformed, charged against the depleted and now ineffective schiltrons. They smashed into the Scottish formations which broke into rout. The English followed cutting them down with one English Chronicler recording "they fell like blossoms in an orchard when the fruit has ripened". Casualty numbers are unknown but, for the Scottish forces, are likely to have been extensive.

With his army destroyed and his reputation in ruins, Wallace escaped the battlefield. He would spend the next seven years mounting a guerrilla war against the English but in reality his power was broken. In 1305 he was betrayed to the English by John de Menteith, a Scottish Knight. After a show trial at Westminster, he was hung, drawn and quartered in Smithfield.

The Battle of Falkirk was significant in that it saw the destruction of the Scottish army in the field and heavy Scottish casualties but, due to the escape of the Scottish nobility, failed to have the long term decisive outcome sought. For awhile Robert the Bruce was hopeful that Edward I would look to him for another King to fill the Scottish throne. However Edward had no intentions of appointing any new King in Scotland and accordingly Robert rebelled in 1306 starting a campaign that would see Scottish victory at Bannockburn,the Declaration of Arbroath and English recognition of the independence of Scotland in 1328, it would be a long 30 years though.

[steveleeuk]

On March 7th 1936, a radio broadcast was transmitted to the United States from Great Britain. The man holding the microphone was not a DJ or a chat show host but the king of England, Edward VIII. It was an historic moment but not everything would go to plan, in fact it almost ended in disaster. Just a few moments before the king’s voice was heard, someone tripped over a wire in the control room of the radio station and severed the only line of communication between ‘king and country’. The engineers went berserk sensing the catastrophe that was about to play out.

With only a couple of seconds remaining before going on air, a quick thinking apprentice grabbed the two ends of the broken wire and bridged the gap. Seconds later, the connection went live, the king delivered his address across the airways and no one knew what had gone wrong. In a very real sense, the words of the king were transmitted through the body of that man.

2,000 years ago, God sent his son into this world to fix the connection between him and us that had been severed by our rejection of him and his will. Through Jesus, the voice of the King of Heaven was transmitted through the body of a man. When that guy grabbed the two wires in the radio station on this day in 1936, all he could do was come up with a temporary solution. But Jesus did something far greater restoring the connection and the relationship to its original condition.

This is how the Bible describes the permanent repair that Jesus made possible “God’s gift was poured out through one man, Jesus Christ. The breathtaking recovery is for those who grasp with both hands this wildly extravagant life that Jesus Christ provides”