#sweet young bertie

[spiritundaunted]

King George VI, photographed by Walter Stoneman for NPG in 1921 as Duke of York and in 1938 as King. source

In 1917, in collaboration with the National Portrait Gallery, photographer Walter Stoneman launched a project to build a National Photographic Record (NPR) of all prominent members of British society. Over the next 41 years Stoneman took and printed postcard-sized pictures of some 7,000 individuals in his studio, between 100 and 200 a year, and provided them to NPG.

The project focussed on political and military figures, and sitters included five monarchs, nine prime ministers, twelve lord chancellors, eighty admirals and one hundred generals. Sitters did not pay for the privilege of being photographed by Stoneman, but were photographed free at the studios of J. Russell & Sons at Baker Street, and so Stoneman was not directly remunerated for producing the photographs.

Up until his death Stoneman had been the sole official photographer for the NPR. After his death, the NPR project continued with Walter Bird as photographer until 1967, when he was succeeded by Godfrey Argent who continued the project until it was stopped in 1970. By then, the collections counted more than 10,000 photographs.

wikipeda

[spiritundaunted]

Love this so much! Glad to see you posting again! 😊

‘The Greaze is an annual custom unique to Westminster School, held each Shrove Tuesday since at least the mid 1700s but in a tradition likely to be medieval. A school cook tosses a pancake over an iron bar and pupils scramble to retrieve what they can of the pancake. The pupil with the largest piece wins a guinea from the Dean of Westminster, who also grants the whole school an extra day’s holiday — the ‘Dean’s play’.

The Greaze is the most anticipated event in the School diary and is a popular spectator event, notably in 1919 when it was attended by King George V and Queen Mary, alongside their sons, the future Edward VIII and George VI.’

Source: Westminster School

Aww, look at our baby-faced Bertie!

[messylustt]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write something kinky with Ethan Landry where reader is maybe a young professor in Blackmore University? Sorry if it is too much and have a wonderful day! 🩷

babe I love this idea. this was a little too fun to write

pretty professor — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : ethan has a crush on his pretty professor.

contents : female oral. kissing. student x professor. allude to male oral. wc 2.9k

pt one pt two

Walking into the lecture hall you adjusted your skirt, your notes in hand. This was a hard job to attain, and here you were, a young professor at Blackmore University. New York has always been a place you wanted to work, the bustling city was something you appreciated and thrived in.

Though one of your downfalls and weak point for criticism was your age. A young professor wasn’t unheard of, but at Blackmore there was minimal to none. So, you did notice the judgmental looks from other professors, the passing comments on how you dressed far too scandalous for a school.

You dressed modestly, simple skirts and blouses, but the older generation only saw your bare legs and thought ‘hey, theres one of those thirsty girls’. You try your best to ignore it, knowing you earned this position. Rumours were rumours. And you’d think that adults were far too mature for bullshit like that, but you guess any age is open for bitchy gossip.

You reach the desk, the large projector displaying your subject behind you, as students began to fill the seats.

Ethan walks in with Chad, hearing him explain something he’d missed at the party the other night. But when he reached the entry to the lecture hall his hearing was lost and his eyes were focused. Ethan watches as you organised yourself, leaning over your desk to reach a pencil or something. Ethan couldn’t see what because his focus was somewhere a little less…innocent.

His first class with you had gone horribly for him because his hearing always seemed to stop working when he was in your presence and all his senses filtered solely to his gaze. You were gorgeous. And Ethan couldn’t look away.

It was wrong in the sense that you were his professor, but it wasn’t like he was ogling Mrs. Bertie, the old lady with a forming monobrow. You were young. But you were still his professor.

He knew many of the other students felt things regarding you, with the way they smirked and eyed your chest, wishing they could use your desk to their advantage. Ethan would always scowl when he caught this, mainly because his thoughts weren’t far different. But he doesn’t watch you like your some meat he wants to try, he watches you like a woman, a mature, beautiful woman, that happens to make his pants feel tighter than usual.

Ethan was shy, and everyone knew it. He’d never had experience with a girlfriend, but now whenever Chad would point to a girl he would always compare her to you. And every time they would fail his silent assessment, because they didn’t have your legs, your eyes, or your smile. They weren’t you. But Ethan couldn’t have you, not that he would have the balls to make a move.

You’d deny him. You’d have to. He was your student and that’s all he was to you. He hated that, because he wanted more.

You gained the attention of your students, beginning the lesson with a smile. God, you were so sweet.

“Bro, you should totally tap that.” Whispered one of the frat boys to his generic friend. Ethan’s jaw clenched as he watched the two boys eye you, trying to lean back to see if they could look under your skirt. Ethan felt the urge to kick them, since he was in perfect reach, seated behind them. But he knew the trouble that would be brought to him if he fucked with a house member.

Ethan readjusted himself as he shifted his gaze back to you. A slight hint of his anger dissipating.

You were always eager to answer questions from students who needed help, always supportive and understanding. Everyone practically loved you. Ethan’s hearing drowned out as he watched you move and point to your examples, your careful fingers running along the long stick you used to point to said examples.

Ethan’s breathing turned slightly heavy as the class went on. God, he loved the way you styled your hair.

A while later he noticed people packing up, the lesson finished already. He held back a groan at how fast the time flew. Too fast, because his lesson after lunch was with fucking Mr. Steven, the devil himself.

“Bro.” Chad nudged Ethan, before gesturing to the front. Ethan turned his head to see that you were staring at him, a slight tilt to your head.

“Ethan, could you see me for a moment.” You kept your voice light, not trying to draw too much attention.

He stared at you, computing your words. You were smiling at him, and you were asking to see him. In a professional sense, but still. Ethan gulped. “Y-yeah.” Fuck, he thinks. Why did he have to stutter? He stands and Chad holds back a chuckle at Ethan and his little crush.

“Have fun, man.” Chad whispered before he followed the throng of students out.

Ethan followed you back to the desk, gulping down all his nerves. You turned to him, leaning slightly against the wood.

“Ethan, I didn’t want to say this in front of the class, but your failing.” You say, looking thoughtful.

“I am?” Of course he was. All he could focus on was you and the way he wanted to touch your skin. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” you begin, turning to the exit. “I have your papers in my office, if you could give me some of your time we could go over the troubles your having?”

Ethan tries not to nod too eagerly as he follows you to your office.

Opening the door, you immediately head to your file cabinet, rummaging through names.

Ethan gazes around. He’d been to your office once before, he remembered your large desk the most. And the way you would look so lovely pressed to the wood as you begged for his—”

“It must be in the storage cupboard.” You sigh, breaking Ethan’s train of thought. He turns red, trying to clear the erotic images of you wide and open for him. Your pretty big eyes looking at him with lust, and want.

You head to the side door, swiftly walking in to search for Ethan’s notes and assignments. Ethan watches as the door swings open further. And he hated to see it as an invitation you unintentionally offered. He stands anyway, walking to the doorframe.

“I’m sorry Ethan, I should have been more prepared.” You say as you bent down to reach a box.

“That’s alright, professor.” His breath hitches as your skirt rides up dangerously high.

You stand straight, resting your hands on your hips. “Why don’t you head to lunch. We can catch up next time.” You smile, having had no luck in finding his work.

Ethan steps inside. “I already ate earlier. Plus I’d rather get this done now.” He tries to sound indifferent as he reaches your side. You smelt so sweet. “Let me help you find it.”

“If your sure, then maybe check that box in the corner.”

Ethan obeys, walking past you and to said box. He ignores the way your arm brushes past him, your chest extremely close.

He crouches down, rummaging through the different names.

After having no luck he turns, still crouched, only to freeze.

Your trying to reach something on the high shelf, your body stretched along with your clothes. Ethan can see straight up your skirt.

His skin burns as he spots your lacy panties. Quickly standing, he coughs, as you lower and turn.

“Any luck?”

Ethan shakes his head, not trusting his words. You run your hand through your hair in annoyance. But all Ethan can focus on his how your lips pout in your state. He gulps.

Your facing him, back nearly pressed to the shelves. He could imagine you whining as he sucked your neck against them, his hands caging you in.

Ethan then catches your expression and realises he’d stepped closer.

You stare at Ethan, watching as he gulps, his chest heaving fast. Your brows furrow as you step closer. “Are you feeling alright?” You reach your hand up to press against his forehead. He felt warm. “Maybe you should go to the nurses office?” You shift your hand to his temple and then to his cheek. He felt extremely hot.

Ethan is frozen. Your a breath away and your touching him. His pulse beats in his ears as watches worry swirl in your eyes. You thought he was sick. His heart lurched at your concern for him. God, he wanted to kiss you. What if he just…

He steps a fraction closer, your hand falling away. He watches as you tilt your head in slight confusion. But before you can voice any thoughts Ethan’s breath is on your lips. You stop, opening your mouth and Ethan gives in, smashing his lips to yours.

At the force you stubble back into the shelves as a Ethan follows. He places his hand at your back before you hit the metal.

He tries not to moan into your mouth, feeling almost dizzy. He laps at your tongue like a desperate puppy, already feeling high off your taste. He presses himself fully against you.

You can feel how hard he is against your hip and your gasping. “Ethan!”

Ethan breathes against your lips. “You want to know why I keep failing?” He asks. “Because every one of your lessons all I can focus on is your gorgeous body. I can’t hear a thing because I’m imagining what you taste like on my tongue.”

Your utterly shocked. You had always seen Ethan as a shy student. And now hearing the dirty words spill from his lips has you pressing your thighs together. “Ethan…”

He lets a groan slip as his name tumbles from you lips. “Oh, god.” His grip has grown possessive on your hip as he eats at your lips. He can’t pull away, not now that your finally in his arms. You hate the fact that your letting him. Christ, your still at school. What if a fellow professor just walked in?

“Ethan we can’t.” You try. “The other professors already think I’m some whore.”

Ethan’s eyes flare. They what? “Some whore? Do they think you fuck all your students?”

You gape at him. He licks at your top lip, already growing addicted to the feel of your mouth.

“You haven’t let any one of them bend you over your desk, have you?”

He kisses you again, pressing you further into the shelf. “You wouldn’t let another student fuck you.” He explores your mouth, becoming very acquainted with your tongue. Your pressing your thighs together as you try to ignore the wetness pooling between. You were student and professor. Ethan and you both knew that.

“What if someone sees?” You mutter.

Ethan’s eyes shine with eagerness. “Does that mean you’d let me touch you if we weren’t here?” He feels ecstatic. “You’d want me to feel you?” He loves the thought of you wanting him back. “I would touch you everywhere if you’d let me.” He rasps out.

Ethan then pulls down the collar of your blouse as he places a sloppy kiss just by your breast. “Your not some whore, your a beautiful woman who makes boys like me fall to their knees.”

You gasp, as he kisses up your neck to hover over your lips again. “But you don’t need those other boys on their knees. You only need me.” He licks a stripe across your bottom lip. “I can make you feel so, so good, professor.”

Your light-headed. Shock isn’t a big enough word. You’d seen the lustful gazes form some of your students. But Ethan you’d never caught eyeing you. Ethan of all of them, you hadn’t imagined would be doing this.

“Your just so pretty.” He breathes, sucking your bottom lip as he shifts against you. He slightly shudders as his dick glides across your hip. His breathing picks up as he tries to hold back from grinding into you pathetically.

“Ethan, that’s…sweet, but you know this is forbidden.” You say, making Ethan catch your gaze.

“Sweet? You found that sweet?” Ethan probes.

He doesn’t know where this confidence has come from but maybe it’s the fact that he has you nearly trembling in his hold. That sense of power has him almost panting.

“Well, then there’s no harm in letting me touch you. If you think me kissing you is sweet. Then your only making your student happy.” He runs his lips across your jaw. “You want your students to be happy, right?”

Your shuddering, your breathing getting caught in your throat. “Shit, Ethan.”

Ethan grins against your skin, as he slightly moves his hips to rub against you. Pleasure shoots straight to your pussy as you choke a moan.

“I-I’m your professor.” You weakly try.

“And I’m your student.” Ethan responds as he trails his hand down your stomach, and along your skirt. “One who would love to just take a bite out of you.”

His hand slips under your skirt making you jolt. He reaches your panties, and quickly bypasses them to touch your soaking cunt. “Oh.” Ethan hisses out, as he spreads your wetness along your clit.

Your choking on air as you clutch his shoulders. “Isn’t it so sweet that your letting your student play with your pussy?” He hums in approval. “You may have been unprepared with my papers, but your certainly prepared for my fingers.” Then he inserts one, as you hold back a whine.

“You do so much for us, it’s about time I return the favour, don’t you think?” He pushes two fingers inside you and begins to pump in and out, as his thumb rubs your clit. “Your always so understanding, teaching frat boys who eye you like meat.” He then grabs your jaw, as he continues to finger you. “You know I don’t look at you like that, right?”

“I—” pleasure is wrecking through you.

“I’d never look at you like that. Your too pretty to be seen as anything less than a woman. Your too pretty to be neglecting help from a willing student.” He then fastens his pace as you moan. “Let me help ease some tension.”

Christ you’ve never been more turned on in your life. Your falling apart at the hands of your student, one who you now realise as to why he’d always been so attentive in class.

“Ethan, fuck— you—”

“Is that an offer?” Ethan thrusts his fingers harder into you as you whimper and moan. Your high is coming and your grabbing at it through Ethan’s shirt. Your grip turning deathly. But he slips his finger out, dropping to his knees.

He pulls you into his mouth, your leg over his shoulder as you use the shelf for better balance. He eats you like he’s never been more hungry, lapping at your folds, as he whimpers into your pussy.

“Oh, god.” You moan as you bite your hand to quieten yourself. Your nearly rolling your hips onto his face as his hands tighten around your thighs.

Fuck you tasted better than he imagined. All his fantasies could never compare to you being wide and open for him, your pleasure his cause. His blunt nails are nearly digging into your flesh by how turned in he is.

Your hand shoots down to his hair, making him shudder open mouthed on your pussy. Your gripping his curls as he brings you to your high. Your biting your hand as pleasure fills you in waves. Shit.

Your breathing hard when Ethan stands, his hand still on one of your thighs. He’s licking his lips as if he just tasted the best desert.

You place your hand in his chest, trying to regain control. You can tell Ethan is eager to do more. But your nerves are shot.

“Ethan, I could get fired if someone found out.” You gulp as you try to straighten your skirt. As if that will make everything go back to normal.

“Professor, if you wanted to stop then why did you let me eat you out?”

“Ethan! I never knew you were so blunt.”

Ethan chuckles, wiping his lip to get some access of your orgasm off and licks his finger clean. Your trying not to shake. “I’m just being honest.”

“If any one of those professors find out I just let…” you couldn’t finish the sentence.

“If any of those professors find out, they won’t ever be back at school to tell.”

Your brows slightly furrow as his tone dropped, lust still evident in his eyes.

“Just let me feel you.” Ethan begins, grabbing at the bottom of your blouse. “Let me feel all…of you.”

You gulp, images filling your head. You shake your head to clear them. Before swiftly walking back into your office. Ethan is hot in your heels, but before he could grab you, you lock the door.

Ethan freezes as you turn back to him. “I feel bad,” you look down. “Leaving you, after you…”

Ethan can fill in the blanks as he follows your gaze to his hard on. He almost fell over. You’d actually…

“Sit down.” You say, and Ethan doesn’t need to be told twice as finds a chair. Your then walking closer, before dropping g to your knees, your hands on his thighs. “This is as far as it goes.”

He thinks he’s going to pass out, not really processing your words. “You have to stay quiet, Ethan.” You warn as you watch his eyes fall heavy with anticipation.

“Ethan?”

“Yes, professor.”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[noandnooneelse]

Here's the thing about how Jeeves, at the beginning of the stories, doesn't quote, and only starts after a certain amount of time. I've been digging around in the Annotations again, and found this:

About this scene:

‘You want time to think, eh?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Take it, Jeeves, take it. You may feel brainier after a night’s sleep. What is it Shakespeare calls sleep, Jeeves?’ ‘Tired Nature’s sweet restorer, sir.’ ‘Exactly. Well, there you are, then.’

This is EDIT: one of the (unless I missed any others, it should be the third time Jeeves quotes anything or anyone, there being an Emerson-quote (fitting in well with his established expertise in philosophical matters), and one instance of him quoting Kipling’s “The Female of the Species” before that) first times in the entire series that Jeeves is quoting anything. Now, Bertie is usually the one who gets quotes wrong. But But we know that, later on, that's Jeeves' thing, he does that frequently, he regularly monologues about poetry, to the point where Bertie has to ask him to return to the point at hand. But he doesn't do that yet, and here, he's mixing up his quotations - this one isn't by Shakespeare, instead, it's from Edward Young's Night-Thoughts.

So if this is a new thing for him, something he's only just learning, that'd explain it, because he just plain doesn't know. He is, in this scene, just saying the first thing that comes to mind, absolutely panicking, and meanwhile, Bertie is blithely unaware of the crisis he's just caused Jeeves, because of course Jeeves knows everything and is 100% trustworthy

[blue--ingenue]

soft!Sebastian headcannons - part 2

Author's Note: so flattered at the response part 1 has gotten, so here's part 2! i may be projecting a bit with the adhd headcannon, but i swear that boy at least partially has it

he’s incredibly protective of you. after losing his parents, nearly losing Anne, and knowing that you defeated Ranrok alone in fifth year, he vowed to never let any harm come to you. he knows you’re more than capable of holding your own in a fight, and his overprotective streak causes a fair amount of arguing between you both, but it stems from his love for you and desire to see you safe

much of his Crossed Wands fan base consists of younger students (including Lucan) that he’s defended from bullies over the years 

absolute caffeine gremlin. drinks coffee when the house elves apparate it onto the breakfast tables, but if he can’t get his hands on a cup, he’ll settle for tea. (this is one of the reasons Earl Grey is one of the first scents you recognize while making amortentia in Potions)

usually doesn’t approve of Garreth’s ‘experiments in class’ (enjoys mischief as much as the young Weasley, but doesn’t want to jeopardize his grade), but once slipped him a few sickles to commission him for an energizing brew

knows how to braid hair, and is pretty damn good at it. Anne taught him how when they were little and he’s been doing it ever since. if MC has long hair, he’s braiding it into a neat french braid before their Crossed Wands match so that it doesn’t get in their face while fighting. some of the boys in his year with fragile masculinity scoff, but when they see half of the students in their year fawning over him. they try to learn how to braid as well

(i’m literally picturing soft Sebastian lovingly braiding MC’s hair with gentle hands before taking his place next to them and absolutely decimating their competition. the complete 180 from tender to lethal has most of the crowd swooning)

is absolutely the little spoon, but will take over as big spoon if you ask him to. whenever he’s stressed or overwhelmed from school (or the danger you often find yourselves in) he just wants to be held

has a major sweet tooth. he always has some sort of sweet with him. whether it’s a chocolate frog, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans he’s split with Ominis, or a pastry tucked away from dinner

absolutely ADORES museums. his parents used to take him and Anne to wizarding history museums as well as the natural history museum in London. seeing artifacts up close while satiating his thirst for knowledge is his personal paradise

(possibly becomes a museum researcher after graduating. something a bit daring and dangerous that lets him put his dueling skills to use in the pursuit of contributing knowledge to his field)

has some degree of adhd that influences his impulsive decisions, risk-taking behavior, and constant switching from topic to topic. has many detentions from talking while the professor is speaking or engaging in unsanctioned spell work, but it’s not his fault classes aren’t stimulating enough 

loves dueling and defense against the dark arts because he gets to engage in hands-on activities after long days of having to sit quietly and still for hours of lectures

herbology isn’t his strong suit, but one day you tell him your favorite flower and he’s determined to grow them for you. a few days later in the undercroft you notice a little self-watering potting table with a few buds poking out from the soil. there are at least five herbology books flipped open to various pages on the exact flower you mentioned with little notes scrawled in the margins

he hands you a bouquet of the flowers once they’ve grown and you swear he looks positively elated

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

#doesnt bertie do something similar with his vocabulary lapses and the numerous instances of 'if x is the word i mean'#bertie is writing his stories after the fact just like jeeves - he could look it up. he doesnt. in jeeves in the offing bertie gets a word#wrong ergo dahlia doesnt understand what he means and bertie reacts as though it were self-evident that dahlia couldnt have understood him#even if he'd used the right word: 'you are probably not familiar with the word but its one i've heard jeeves use'#if we assume that that is how bertie looks at the world then he doesnt have to look it up - to bertie people like him (people who will read#his writings) dont know words like jeeves does and therefore it is unneccessary to be 100% sure which word he means - noone else would know#and while jeeves doesnt include literary allusions in his narration he very much establishes himself as an authority in that area#except he does it through bertie - he is writing a guide addressed to new valets and right at the beginning he quotes emerson at bertie#who is immediately portrayed as the guy who cant remember the name of the play he saw the evening before. jeeves is absolutely showing off!#there are three foreign words set in cursive in the first paragraph alone! but the difference is while he may be showing off he - just as#you said - has nothing to prove - he is already the authority and here hes just establishing another way in which a valet#has to keep the upper hand

@noandnooneelse's tags for further discussion about jeeves as a narrator but responding in the tags because that's the most superior method of communication

you guys ever notice how in his dialogue when he's in bertie's presence, jeeves uses quotations and references constantly, but in his THOUGHTS during "bertie changes his mind," he doesn't use any? this is obviously because he doesn't care if we the audience know he knows shakespeare, but he will languish and die if he doesn't get to dazzle bertie with his wit and knowledge every five seconds

[thecrownnetflixuk]

Fond Farewells Mark the End of an Era for The Crown.

Pt 2 of Season 6 Accedes to the Next Generation – But Reigns Most Triumphant Saluting Its Sovereign.

Review & gifs by L.L @The Crown TV

I wasn't sure what to expect from the final 6 preview episodes of The Crown. Part 1 gifted us with a season-defining performance from Elizabeth Debicki, but such intense focus on the tragedy of Diana and Dodi's deaths was heavy-going. How to move forward?

Not many TV shows stick the landing, but I believe The Crown does, mostly by putting Queen Elizabeth front and centre. In four different ways! But Part 2 takes a while to forge ahead and reign triumphant.

Ed McVey and Meg Bellamy make shy William and swotty Kate believable as a young couple who meet at university – or earlier, as per a flashback with (not Ghost!) Diana. I still found it hard to invest in their will-they-won't-they relationship (we already know they do.) 

Instead, it’s sisters Elizabeth and Margaret who have long been the emotional heart of this show; at every stage of their lives.

Former Oscar-nominee Lesley Manville (alongside Queen Imelda Staunton) is truly magnificent in Ep 8 as Princess Margaret, though it's painful watching this vibrant lady struggle as her health worsens.

Memories of the 1940's are a delight. However, I wish we'd seen more of wide-eyed teen Lilibet let loose (Viola Prettejohn) and carefree Marg (Beau Gadsdon) before older Margaret says her final goodbye.

Staunton saves her best for last, bringing dry humour, vulnerability as well as leadership to Ep 10. The 70+ min epic finale 'Sleep, Dearie Sleep' has its shaky moments, but beautifully completes Queen Elizabeth's story when it counts, bringing near-perfect closure. That alone elevates Season 6 beyond Season 5.

Warning - MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. This is my final *EVER* review (might be extra long!)

S6 is NOW ON NETFLIX - WATCH THE EPISODES before reading.

Images: courtesy of Netflix

Starting with less good news; the first couple of episodes of Part 2 were my least favourite. Ep 5, 'Willsmania', feels transitional, and a little stuck in the past. Following his mother's death, Prince William (Ed McVey; taking over from younger actor Rufus Kampa) turns inward as he struggles to cope with public attention and grief.

It's an understandable reaction to losing a parent, but Part 1 already spent nearly half a season on Dodi and Diana. It felt like we grieved in real time. As a result, whenever the subject of Diana crops up again in Part 2, it tends to weigh down both pace and narrative.

Ep 6 brings a welcome change of topic. This being The Crown, I'm sure there are critics poised to be offended by Queen Elizabeth's nightmare about Prime Minister Tony Blair being crowned king, but to me, his 'coronation' was hilarious, as was the choir boy singing Blair's cheesy Labour pop anthem.

It felt like deliberate tongue-in-cheek humour, an absurd reminder why monarchy might still be better than populist elected leaders.

I really wanted this episode to work, but it didn't go anywhere, and themes like tradition-vs-modernity were covered more effectively in episodes such as 'Marionettes.' Bertie Carvel has Tony Blair's voice down but suffers from comparisons with Michael Sheen, who was uncanny as the Prime Minister in 3 earlier Peter Morgan projects.

^ PM Tony Blair. The Women's Institute weren't fans of his grandstanding.

The Crown: The Next Generation fully arrives during Ep's 7, 9 & 10. Some will love it. Those who prefer more historical episodes with broader scope may be disappointed, as the show follows William and Kate through University life in the early 2000's.

The newcomers do bring fresh energy to the show. It helps that they cast Ed McVey and Meg Bellamy, who make a sweet couple as Will and Kate, even if William sometimes comes across as petulant.

Unlike Ed McVey as William, Luther Ford doesn't bear much physical resemblance to Prince Harry, other than red hair. Ford does however put in a good performance as Harry becomes increasingly reckless.

The Crown doesn't hide either Harry or William's bad behaviour. The brothers seem to get on well at the start, but it later seems like they're more at odds. Underneath a lot – a LOT – of boozing, both boys appear quietly screwed-up over their mother's death. Neither of them seem to enjoy playing happy families with Charles, either.

The show mostly concentrates on William and Kate, but there aren't many episodes left to develop a genuine romance. They have potential, but it feels fairly surface level. Suddenly, they rush to move into a house share together when we've barely seen them kiss. They (and we) needed more screen time to really get to know each other.

There's a bigger issue here with Kate's mother, Carole Middleton (Eve Best.) Pushy parent Carole is keen to play matchmaker between her 'commoner' daughter and the young eligible Prince, keeping tabs on William. Carole isn't as conniving, but ... didn't we just watch a similar storyline with Mohamed Al-Fayed/Dodi/Diana in Part 1?

^ Kate 'n' Will. Her Mum would frame this picture.

Ep 8 'Ritz' plays like a standalone film. Margaret's final story is touching, but upsetting, at times; I was a fan of Diana, yet sobbed as much for Margaret as the credits rolled, even though her eventual death isn't shown. In fact, her final goodbye is sensitively done and stands as a fitting tribute to the princess, as well as to the Queen.

Lesley Manville makes Margaret's predicament so real as her health slowly breaks down. She bounces back from one stroke, then another hits. How awful too for Elizabeth to watch a much-loved sister deteriorate, though it was wonderful to see Lilibet read Margaret a bedtime story. It brought out the warmer side of Staunton's Queen.

The scene where Margaret scalds her feet in the bath is genuinely horrifying. I've suffered from ill health and loss of control myself and this was so much worse. I could feel her pain. That poor woman.

Human moments are where The Crown excels; through this episode, this working-class lass from a council house could somehow relate to a Princess in a palace. Peter Morgan has surely done more to humanise the royal family than any P.R team ever could.

^ Fans of Margaret (and Lesley Manville) prepare yourselves for her sad final journey.

Onto the big reveal: when I mentioned at the start there are FOUR ways Queen Elizabeth appears – this is what I meant:-

^ Newcomer Viola Prettejohn plays teenage Princess Elizabeth.

^ & there's Olivia Colman & Claire Foy alongside older Queen Imelda Staunton.

Satisfyingly, all 3 of The Crown's leading ladies return to close the show. Olivia Colman and Claire Foy each have an additional scene, too (I won't spoil the entire finale, as it covers a lot of ground in over 70 mins, but Olivia and Claire aren't back as 'ghosts.')

As we get older, the ghosts who speak loudest are our own; the former versions of us we berate ourselves with. Not everyone may warm to the Queen (sort of) talking to herself, but personally, I was thrilled to see these talented actors on screen together.

Foy's scene with Staunton is particularly effective, as the younger Queen gives her older self an old-fashioned dutiful talking to. It's somehow also credible that they're aspects of the same person.

It reminded me of Peter Morgan’s 2013 (extraordinary) play, ‘The Audience', which inspired this series, and included scenes where Helen Mirren shared the stage with young Elizabeth. That play is also why this theatre-fan started watching The Crown to begin with, and later went on to create this website.

When Ep 10 finished playing, my Netflix returned itself to Season 1. 60 episodes over 7 years! I will miss the grand scale of The Crown, but appreciate the legacy which remains. Now feels like the right time for this story to end. A full-circle moment in more ways than one.

**Majestic thanks for reading, and to every person who has liked, reblogged, messaged, supported The Crown TV for all these years.

💎♕You each deserve a Crown of your own!♕💎**

N.B: These are my humble opinions at this point in time. No offence is intended. Agreement = lovely; not compulsory. Disagreement = happens; kindly coexist. Ta!

[dathen]

“I think it is beyond question that she would be an admirable influence for Mr. Little, should the affair come to a happy conclusion. Such a union would also, I fancy, go far to restore Mr. Little to the good graces of his uncle, the young lady being well connected and possessing private means. In short, sir, I think that if there is anything that we can do we should do it.”

It’s possible Jeeves has ulterior motives behind this, maybe even just to free him and Bertie from being called in for Straight Nonsense every 30-40 business days, but this is awfully sweet of him if even slightly meant

[heylorrain]

Chapter 17 - Serpent's Condemn

Expand and enjoy or visit my AO3

She devoured the pudding on her plate, desperate to drown out the overwhelming flood of thoughts and emotions consuming her. But the sweet flavor stood no chance against her thoughts, and didn’t prevent the tears from keep rolling down her cheeks in an endless cascade.

As the clock struck an hour before midnight, the two Slytherins stealthily made their way through the dimly lit hallways back to their common room. The faint sounds of laughing and chatting echoed off through the whole castle, and the faint scent of firewhiskey lingered in every corner of it, evidence of a recent celebration. Some students stumbled past them in a drunken haze, while others laid passed out in various corners around the school. The duo had no need to hide or be extra careful amidst the chaos. They were like shadows, blending seamlessly into the night as they snuck towards their destination.

Ominis's voice rose above the noise from their footsteps, lamenting Anne Sallow's recent situation, his face etched with concern as he recounted the events that led to Sebastian's sudden departure for Feltcroft.

“I’m sorry that happened to her. Poor Sebastian, spending Christmas like this…” Lorra regretted not having the chance to get to know Sebastian’s twin sister, but from what Ominis had told her, she was sure Anne was just as kind and caring as her brother… and as stubborn and wicked.. 

Memories flooded back as the young Gaunt reminisced about their earlier days, where they used to tease first years by telling them they could spot mermaids if they stood at the Common Room’s window long enough. It seemed silly now, but it was one of the first memories they’d together. 

Lorrain couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of Anne missing out fourth year with her brother and Ominis. "I'm sure she'll be back soon," she reassured him, hoping it would bring some comfort. 

"I hope so; Hogwarts just doesn't feel the same without her…" the blonde added with a wistful sigh.  

As they made their way to the Slytherin room entrance, a girl with short hair greeted them before they could enter. 

"There you are!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine excitement. "I'm sorry if I caught you off guard...but Penny told me I could find you here… Of course it’s your Common Room…er. Anyway - this is for you.” The girl then handed out a small present. 

Ominis didn't recognize the girl's voice or silhouette, so he decided to let the girls have some privacy and started walking away, but before he could leave, Lorra grabbed his arm. "Ominis, she's talking to you," she whispered urgently, gesturing towards the girl who held out a small striped box with a bow on top, filled with colorful candies - Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. 

“Oh! My apologies- er-…”

“I’m Poppy, Poppy Sweeting. We’re in Beasts Class together.” But Ominis couldn't place her face or name, and it was clear that she didn't expect him to. "I just wanted to thank you for treating Gerald so kindly," she said. "Especially after Garreth Weasley practically slammed food on his face. So I just wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas, Ominis."

Ominis took the present shyly, he didn’t expect any gifts from his classmates, especially not from someone he barely knew. But as he traced down the familiar form of his favorite candy from HoneyDukes, he couldn't help but feel touched by Poppy's thoughtfulness. 

"Thank you, Poppy," he said sincerely "Merry Christmas to you too. Would you like one?" He rapidly opened the box and offered her some but she kindly denied it. 

“They are for you after all, but thank you! I’ll see you guys around!” Poppy walked away waving goodbye at them with a wide smile on her face.

“Gerald…?” Ominis asked confused, popping a green bean into his mouth while descending into their common room.

"Her favorite puffskein...you know, the one you fed a while back?" Lorra replied before stealing some of his candy. 

“Oh…right…” That Poppy must be a Hufflepuff…

As they made their way towards their usual spot by the crackling fire, they noticed a group of first years already gathered there. In the midst of the young students stood Penny Backster, holding a large basket between her hands. Her bright blue eyes lit up as she recognized them and she eagerly approached with a welcoming smile.

"Hello again, Lorrain and Ominis," she greeted, her voice full of warmth. "I brought you guys sandwiches like I promised! And there's even some turkey legs, mashed potatoes, and other tasty treats. The house elves really outdid themselves this year." She gestured to the basket overflowing with delicious food.

Lorra graciously accepted the basket from her classmate and pulled her into a warm embrace, expressing her gratitude. 

Well I guess it’s my turn now… Ominis extended his hand with the candy box to the girl. “Would you like a Bertie Bott, Penny?” he offered. 

Penny's brows furrowed in surprise at this unexpected act of kindness from the usually aloof Gaunt boy. Hesitantly, she reached out and plucked a yellow candy from the box, popping it into her mouth and relishing in the sharp burst of sourness on her tongue. "Thank you!" she managed to say before hurrying back to her friends. 

“I poisoned that Bertie Bott you know” He whispered to Lorra sarcastically.

“Oh yeah, I bet you did…”

***

They finally addressed the elephant in the room, secluded in Gaunt's bed like a bunker, their only refuge. The topic surrounding the upcoming New Year's party caused their stomachs to coil into tight knots, making it nearly impossible to swallow down their meal. After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached a decision, a desperate plan born out of necessity. Ominis couldn't shake the nagging sense of danger that lurked around Lorra.As for her, the fear of one of their own getting hurt weighed heavily on her mind, making her anxious with each passing second.

"So it is decided then," he concluded with a heavy sigh. 

"Yes..." Lorra answered, her gaze fixed on her plate.

 "Are you certain I cannot change your mind?" Ominis pressed, hoping for a different answer. But her reply remained firm, a hint of anxiety underlying her words. 

"No, Oms...I'm sorry."

“I’ll start working on the arrangements right away then,” he said, his voice trembling with nerves. 

The girl grasped his hand and squeezed it tightly. "We'll take care of it tomorrow,"she reassured him before getting up from the bed to collect their plates. 

He hovered his wand over her and sensed her calm attitude. “How can you be so composed?” he asked, his voice cracking with emotion. 

“Someone has to be,” she replied, hiding her own terror. 

“Sorry, I’m just-” he started to say before she cut him off. “-Nervous, terrified…just like me,” she admitted as she clutched the plates a little too tightly. 

After placing everything back in the basket, she sat back down with her favorite dessert, trying to calm herself but failing miserably.

As Ominis let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped and he ran his fingers through his blonde hair in frustration. "Sebastian would probably come up with some ridiculous excuse to calm us down," he muttered. 

"And he'd likely throw in a few jokes about how we're overthinking everything." Lorra added with a hint of sarcasm. Despite the seriousness of their current predicament, both Ominis and her chuckled at the thought of their usually carefree friend being the voice of reason for once. It was a strange yet comforting notion to imagine Sebastian steering them back onto a steady course in the midst of chaos. 

“He’s such a good duelist, I can’t seem to beat him just yet at CrossWands” She trailed off, trying to distract herself. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he became an auror…or a professional Quidditch player-” Her voice wavered as the tears started to spill down her cheeks. 

"Why does this have to be so difficult?" She muttered under her breath, the weight of it all was finally crushing her. The murder accusations, Arthur's cruel methods of interrogation and his sudden apology, the shocking revelation about her beloved aunt… It was all becoming too much, threatening to swallow her whole. Her world was crumbling under her fingertips and she was struggling to hold on.

She devoured the pudding on her plate, desperate to drown out the overwhelming flood of thoughts and emotions consuming her. But the sweet flavor stood no chance against her thoughts, and didn’t prevent the tears from keep rolling down her cheeks in an endless cascade. 

Ominis put her plate aside and threw his arms around her, squeezing her with a force that threatened to crush her bones. She was torn between gratitude for his unwavering presence, combined with an overwhelming sense of guilt for the mess they were in, all because of her.

On top of that, the timing could not be worse, as their entire plan depended on Sebastian's involvement, but Anne's fragile state added yet another layer of uncertainty to their already precarious situation.

“We’ll figure it out, together…” Ominis comforted her. “...but wherever this path leads us, I want you to know that I-I-”

“Don’t you dare” -she interrupted sharply. "We can save our words for later, after we've dealt with this” - and regretted it immediately-.

I’d love to say how much I love you too, Oms. I wish I could say it so easily. Every fiber of my being loves you and until this day, I don’t understand why. No words could ever fully express the depth and magnitude of what you mean to me, who you truly are in my eyes…But-

“You’re right, there’s no need for those things right now. I apologize, Meva… ”

“I didn’t mean to sound harsh, Oms,” She said, gently cupping his face between her hands. “It feels like you’re saying your goodbyes, preparing for the worst, and I’ll not have it.” She tried to wash away his worries by kissing him on the corner of his lips, her own lips tingling in consequence.

He responded eagerly, capturing her mouth and pulling her closer, his hands gripping her swollen cheeks. She felt both loved and owned by his possessive touch. Yet, beneath the sweet taste of her lips was a hint of longing, begging for more exploration. 

But… what if there’s no “later”…? What if I don’t get to tell you how much you mean to my soul, Oms. What if I don’t ever get to kiss you after New Year. What if this IS my final goodbye?

A final tear rolled down her cheek, but was gently wiped away by Ominis’ thumb. She couldn’t be the one to be thinking that, she had to be strong. She had to. If not her, then who? It was her burden to bear. Not Ominis’, not Sebastian’s. It was hers and hers alone. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Lorrain,” he pleaded, breaking the kiss and grabbing her by the wrists, his unseeing eyes filled with worry. “This is madness”. 

“I believe so too. But, there’s no greater pain than living a life that isn’t truly yours. If there’s any chance for me to actually be free of whatever my family arranged me to, I’ll take it”. Her heart raced so fast it felt like it might burst from her chest. She refused to let her life be controlled by the actions of her ancestors, no matter who they were or what promises they’ve made.

After a few gentle kisses to her hands, the blonde stood up from the bed and made his way to his nightstand, reaching for something inside the top drawer. "Do you want your rings back?" He held out a small box in his hands, the rings still nestled inside. 

Lorra's heart skipped a beat as she remembered his Christmas gift. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. “Yes, please. Thank you." she finally spoke, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the box. "Now that I don't have a wand, I'll-"

Shit. 

Her sentence was cut off by a sudden realization. Panic set in as she remembered an important detail - she didn't have a wand of her own. Using Geneva's wand was out of the question; the thought of it made her cringe, it was like using a stranger's toothbrush. 

Ominis threw his head back in frustration, coming to the same realization. "Mr Ollivander won't be back until January, as he does every year," he pointed out with an exasperated tone. The renowned wandmaker's shop was open every day of the year except for that exact period of time. With slow and heavy steps, Ominis handed the box to Lorra, their options dwindling with each passing second. "I suppose there may be other shops out there," he muttered with forced optimism.

"But we don't have time to search for a new one! And even if we did, I highly doubt they'd be open..." Lorra exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice as she placed the rings on their designated fingers in a desperate attempt to calm herself.  They walked in anxious circles, racking their brains for another solution but coming up empty-handed.

“We could still try and-” 

“Try and get us all three killed? No thank you,” she hissed, her frustration boiling over. “Dammit! How could I be so careless and stupid?!” Her voice echoed with fury as she cursed herself for not realizing the situation sooner. “If only I had known…we could have made it to Ollivander's and procured a wand before it was too late. But no, I let myself get distracted and now we're-”

“Lorrain!” Ominis shouted in alarm, his wand pointed directly at her hands. She snapped open her eyes and gasped in shock. Her hands were engulfed in a violent purple flame that crackled and danced, but strangely didn't burn her skin. With each passing moment, the fire grew heavier and more unstable, fueled by her inner rage. 

The silver rings adorning her fingers glowed with a blinding light, proudly displaying the words GAUNT and LORRA engravings etched into their surface. 

The flames disappeared after she lost focus on her anger and frustration. But Ominis’ wand captured something that it was not supposed to be there. “Wait…” he pointed his wand to the rings on her left hand, his face contorted with curiosity. He reached them with his fingers and traced over the engraved letters of his last name. "I never asked for my name to be added…”

"I thought it was a nice gesture that you've asked Mr. Flammel to-"

"Do you think I'm that vain?” he scoffed and Lorra rolled her eyes at the question. Yes darling, you are…just a little bit.

“Do you really believe I would want my cursed family name etched onto anything?"  Ominis’ tone laced with disgust at the suggestion. 

But the sudden realization slapped them across the face. Ominis had never instructed the creator of those rings, the legendary Nicolás Flammel, to include his last name, and with a reputation like his, there was no way the renowned alchemist would make such a mistake in his work.

“Ominis,” her eyes darted between each of the rings.“You said Arthur saw your father talking to Professor Black about me, right after I left the Ministry…”

“Yes” 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The weight of Mr Gaunt’s ownership over her felt suffocating, making her feel caught between fear and anger. How did he know about Ominis’ present? How much control did he really have over her? 

“He knew you were going to give this to me… He knows who I am…He knows he… owns me.”

👉It's been a while since I last posted an entire chapter here, sorry about that

👉The friend that helps me edit my drafts told me she wanted to see more of how Lorrain feels, what she thinks, what's on her mind... sooo this is me trying.

[spiritundaunted]

Bertie & Elizabeth 1923 ❤️

The honeymoon signatures of the Duke & Duchess of York (later King George VI & Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother) in the Glamis Castle visitors' book in 1923, adorned with romantic illustrations by Elizabeth’s brother Michael. 💘

Elizabeth & Bertie pictured with Elizabeth’s brother David Bowes-Lyon at Glamis, early in the Yorks' marriage. Elizabeth and David were very close, and Bertie got close to both David and Michael as well.

Source - Our Elizabeth, celebrated by those who know her

[its-ya-girl-phoeni]

Thomas Headcanons (for @ohmystarrynight's Human AU)

He was very sweet and innocent as a child, before eventually growing into the little rascal we know and love

His original surname was Awdry (as a reference to The Railway Series' author), before having it changed to Edward's surname, Fosters.

He has very few memories of his biological parents, since he'd been seperated from them at such a young age

Has accidentally called Edward "Dad" on more than one occasion

Had the fattest crush on Lady when he first saw her

LOVES cookies

His favorite color is blue, which is one of the reasons why he climbed aboard Eddie's engine on that fateful day

He and Percy were partners in crime in their younger days, pulling pranks on the railway workers for fun

Often races with Bertie in his train, much to the chagrin of his passengers

Is a good person at heart, despite his usually mischievous and brash demeanor

If he ever met his canon self, he'd initially be a little weirded out by the concept of a train with a human face, but would eventually bond with him due to their nearly-identical personalities

Edward would often read to him as a child, and they would usually end up falling asleep together

[ordinorultor-if]

Can we get facts about the relationship between MC and each of their siblings ? If it’s not too much

Howdy, thanks for the ask!

I'll try to provide what I can, but I want for the player to be able to at least partially define their MC's relationships with their siblings.

That said, there are some broad strokes that always stay the same. For example, the younger siblings - E and P, and to a lesser extent the Twins - often view MC as more of a parent than their, well, parents, since they were so young when Ranulf and his wife were executed. Since MC was teenager (I think of them as specifically having been somewhere in the 13-16 range, but you're free to headcanon them as having been as old as 19) when their parents were executed, P could have been as young as 7.

Also, even at their most strained, none of the sibling relationships are actually bad. At most, I think there would be resentment over certain things - for example, you can choose to make MC rather strict (which will piss off B especially) but no matter what everyone is supportive of and loves each other, which is a big reason MC chose them to be their advisors.

Besides the possibility of MC's strictness, the greatest source of resentment? E is the only one (besides possibly MC) to not have a nickname.

Anyways, beyond that:

B/Bertie, as the second oldest, has a small rivalry with MC (as is to be expected - I'm an only child but from what I hear, younger siblings tend to be twerps), but B still stepped up a lot to help their younger siblings, and is subject to some of the same parentification as MC.

MC at baseline has a modicum of concern for the Twins. Not only are those two the most underhanded of the family, especially A/Alb, but how M/Mel pushes themself is seen by most of their siblings as incredibly unhealthy (and tbh? they're one bad day away from needing to get help for it, but all these kids should get therapy anyways).

E, despite being the second youngest, is a strong pillar of the family. Their extensive knowledge of academics combined with their emotional intelligence makes them MC's go-to interpersonal advisor when not in an official capacity (expect them to comment on your choice of romance and give advice).

P/P'Enfant, with their sweet nature and fiery temper, is often a source of inspiration to rally around for the rest. The others are also incredibly grateful to them for one big reason - they deal with the duchy's taxes, and with how often the Liege changes specifically Akize's taxes, no one else wants to try to wrap their head around them lol.

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Like grandfather, like grandson - Chapter 3 - Grandma knows best

“Milla, darling, wait!”, Charles shouted in complete panic, running through the halls and corridors of Windsor Castle like an absolute maniac. After the sudden departure of his girlfriend, he had been in a state of shock for maybe about two minutes, she couldn't have come too far in the meantime… “Darling, please, don't leave me like this!” Camilla, crouching in a small gap between two walls, somewhere between the library and the state apartments of this huge, ancient building, suddenly felt so lonely and cold that she couldn't fight her tears any longer as she heard her boyfriend desperately searching for her. “Darling? Darling!’, she heard him calling out for her once again, and eventually admitted defeat. “Yes, darling, I… I'm here…”, she sobbed, and Charles’ heart stopped for a few moments. “Darling!!!”, he screamed, turned around, and immediately ran over to where he thought that her voice came from, and eventually found her, a little piece of misery, and protectively pressed her against his strong, manly chest. “Oh Darling, I'm so sorry!”, she sobbed, but he didn't even let her finish. “No, darling, I'm sorry!”, he said, tenderly stroking her back. “I shouldn't have put you under such pressure…” “You didn't, darling.”, Camilla responded, slowly but surely overcoming her short mental breakdown. “What you did was… so sweet. And just… perfect.”, she reassured him. “And I love you, darling, I really do. But I can't give you the answer you want to hear…” Charles desperately tried to hide his disappointment and tenderly wrapped his arm around her. You don’t have to, darling. Take your time. Let’s get back to London now and take you home…”

Buckingham Palace, London, two hours later

“But she didn’t immediately say ‘no’, lad, did she?” Bertie summed up what his grandson had just told him about his proposal to the girl he had lost his heart to and couldn’t help but smile, as he gently stroked over Charles’ back. The poor boy had had a complete mental breakdown as he, obviously slightly over dramatised, had told the King what had happened, and the young Prince nodded crestfallen. “No, she didn’t.” He replied, but immediately added bitterly: “Because she is too kind for that! But she will never agree to marry me! Oh grandpa, I am going to die! If I can’t marry her, I won’t marry anybody! And end up like Uncle David…” He sobbed and Bertie meanwhile struggled keeping his composure. The lad really was even more dramatic and sensitive than he himself. “Now, come on, my darling boy.” He tried to soothe him a bit. “May I remind you that I had to ask your grandmother thrice before she eventually agreed to marry me? And she did say ‘no’, plainly and clearly!” “Who said ‘no’ to what?” A well-known and always more than welcome voice asked and Charles' spirits immediately brightened up as he recognised his beloved grandmother standing in the door frame. “Granny!” He happily exclaimed and rushed over to and greeted her affectionately. Being the loving and caring grandmother she was, Elizabeth immediately noticed that something wasn’t quite right with her darling boy. “Charles, my dear, what’s the matter?” she asked concernedly as they jointly walked over to the two Edwardian chaise lounges in Bertie’s sitting room. “I was just telling our darling boy that I had to propose to you three times until you finally agreed to marry me.” The King said romantically, took his consort’s hand and kissed it tenderly, which made the Queen blush and the young Prince melt. “Well, my love, it can be quite frightening for an innocent, young girl to be asked THE question by somebody who could possibly be King one day!”, she chuckled before adding: “And you weren’t even heir apparent at the time, were you, Bertie?” “No, darling, I wasn’t. But I’ve always known that you’re the one. I’ve always seen the wonderful, loving and devoted Queen you eventually became, you’ve always been destined to become.” Now it was her who gently took his hand and lovingly pressed it. Charles had listened to his grandmother attentively and was left completely confused. “Granny - if I may…” He began and the Queen smiled at him. “Yes, of course, darling!”

“Why was it frightening? What exactly frightened you?” The young Prince could absolutely not understand what on earth could be frightened of the prospect of becoming a member of the Royal Family? In fact, he could hardly imagine anything more reassuring and safer. His grandmother threw her head back laughing. “Oh Charles, you really are exactly like your grandfather!” She giggled. “You two wonderful, sweet and naive lads, you…” Elizabeth laughed, before, a bit more seriously, adding: “Well, of course you wouldn’t know because you were literally born into this world, you don’t know anything else. But for me it was very scary back then. I had enjoyed a wonderfully, quiet and idyllic childhood up in Scotland, in a loving, normal family, without any pressure, protocol or any of that nonsense… I was used to having a certain freedom, which I appreciated and which was quite difficult for me to give up. I was a nobody, the ninth out of ten children of the 14. Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne. Nobody, no newspapers or anyone cared about me, what I did, what I said, what I wore, where I was and where not. I knew that, if I agreed to marry Bertie, I’d never have that again. I’d be in the limelight, be watched and my every step would be judged and scrutinised for the rest of my life. And that really frightened me.” Both, Charles and Bertie, had been following her reflections with great interest and attention. It was the King who first dared say something again, as he, almost anxiously, asked. “But, darling, you’ve never regretted it, have you?” “Of course not, darling!” Elizabeth replied and lovingly kissed his cheek, which left Bertie visibly relieved. “But, Granny…” Charles eventually dared ask.  “What made you change your mind? I mean… How did you eventually find the courage to marry grandpa?” “Well, my darling boys… I’m not sure whether I have ever told you this, Bertie, but in fact… I got a visit from your mother.” “You got what?” The King echoed in total disbelief. How on earth could that be? They’d be married for 50 years in a few months - how could it be that Elizabeth had never told him such a significant detail? “Yes, darling, your mother came up to Scotland one day and invited me on a long, nice walk. We walked and talked and at the end of it, she simply told me that she was now convinced that I was ‘the one girl that could make Bertie happy’, but that, of course, the choice was mine. She kissed me on the cheek before she left, and that was the moment I knew I was not going to turn you down again, darling.” “I can’t believe you’ve never told me!” Bertie said, looking at his wife slightly disappointed, but they both knew he loved her way too much to be cross with her for too long. “So apparently they’re actually right when they say ‘Mother knows best’...” Charles pondered and his grandfather added: “Or, perhaps in your case, grandmother!” And while Elizabeth was left entirely confused, the King and the young Prince exchanged a mischievous glance, and Charles knew exactly what he had to do…

[rxsilabeth--er]

How about Fleamont X Reader X Euphemia, I don't know what you do, just domething for my two cuties and I need Jamie boy as my baby! I imagine that since Fleamont was phenomenal in potions and effie was great at charms, he and Euphemia worked a lot to include your DNA in Jamie as well, and he's just the cutest little thing!!!

:: Through the years...

Now calling....Author: "Hello? Yes!! Okay, so, this is a amazing request, thank you for requesting!! I hope this is good, I basically rambled through this!"

Now calling....Synopsis: "Through the years from Hogwarts to having James, Euphemia and Fleamont had their sweetheart beside them, You. They can personally never get enough of it and while cleaning the attic, Fleamont found a old journal he kept and they refresh their memories while you're away to visit family."

Now calling....Warnings: "Personal headcanons (Effie was a Slytherin), due to their intelligence, Jamie also has your DNA in him. Drinking? Idk, I'll see|| They might be OOC because I honestly have no idea what their personality is like..Self made lore, cause who is going to stop me?? And many self-made characters. Minerva is a boss bitch."

Euphemia sighed and wiped her wet hands on on her dark grey apron, staring at the upside-down wet dishes in the metal-grate tub she left to dry after washing them.

She looked around for Fleamont, not seeing him anywhere as she let out a tired sigh. She would look for you next, but you were gone back to your family to visit them, leaving the three of the Potters alone.

She warmed up James's milk bottle and walked up the stairs to her bedroom, opening it to her room. Walking closer to James's bassinet, which was bouncing on it's own due to magic. Baby James was apparently founding it extremely amusing since he kept trying to stand up and then would fall due to the bouncing and laugh and babble out as Euphemia smiled, picking him up in her arms.

James softly whined wanting to go back in his bed, as she sighed and placed him back. She softly handed him the bottle and let him lay down, before she went around the house looking for Fleamont, he was home, she knew it, just where in this goddamn mansion was he?

As she walked around the whole house, before going back to her room and sitting on the bed, watching James quietly. Before Fleamont came through the door with a bright smile,

"Look what I found!!" he said throwing a heavy journal on her lap as Fleamont took James in his hands and threw him in the air gently, before setting him in the bassinet again as he sat on the bed,

"I was cleaning the attic and found it. I bet you miss sweetheart and I miss them too.." he said snuggling close to Euphemia who sighed and opened the journal to the first page of you, very young btw, sitting on your house's old breakfast chair, pouting while holding your then pet cat, Mittens.

The magical photos moved to show Mittens running away and you crossing your arms and looking away from the breakfast made for you, your cheeks honestly matched James's chubby ones and so did your temperament over food you both didn't like and Euphemia giggled at it softly.

The next was you looking out from the Hogwart's express window, waving to them, Euphemia's head popping out with her large braid, a tiny bindi on her forehead as she smiled cutely. You, her and somewhere in the back Fleamont's fluffy head came out, pulling away from a kiss by his mum as you three vigorously waved to the camera, the train moving away. Euphemia smiled, how sweet it was to meet you all on the first day on the Hogwarts express.

The next was you taking one on your face and placing it somewhere and it looked as if the camera was placed somewhere high, Euphemia fighting with Fleamont over something.

A box of Bertie Bott's every flavour beans in her hands, her Slytherin tie and Fleamont's red one being limelight as it showed they were a bit skittish since they were from rival houses.

The picture moved to show Euphemia seeming shoving a ugly brown-grey bean in Fleamont's mouth which made him gag from disgust. It must have been the puke one as you turned to stare at them, Euphemia remembered that, arguing over who got higher marks...

The next one was maybe in second year? But it was moving to show Fleamont and Minerva jumping in the black lake, his fluffy hair turning straight and sticking to his face and covering half his head as Euphemia laughed, picking up her skirt to walk into the shallow side of the lake as she took your hand to help you in as well.

Another one was Minerva holding the quidditch trophy and laughing as Euphemia smiled and patted her back with a bright smile as Fleamont kept pouting in the back and it showed to Minerva throwing her shoe in his face after he said something to her much to Euphemia and your shock.

Next one was in your house, everyone around the fire. You with your friend group; Euphemia, you, Fleamont Potter, Minerva McGonagalll, Alphard Black, Aurelia Hillard, Pamona Sprouts, Celphius Warrington, Damien Rosier, Poppy Pomfrey all sitting around. A group mixed with students from different houses, and one thing was for sure, you were a crazy bunch.

All sitting around, Euphemia could see Aurelia, Alphard and Damien severely bruised in the picture, most likely since they had just escaped from their parents and it did not end well cause Walburga found out, but you all were safe. Aurelia and Alphard had just inherited the stuff they had gotten in their will, while Damien was torn apart after the crucio he'd received from his father. Thank god, everyone was safe though...

Another was Aurelia, Alphard, Damien, Euphemia, Minerva, Celphius, Poppy and Fleamont cuddled into a large cuddle pile, one with you and Fleamont painting Euphemia, another of you and Euphemia kissing with Fleamont's hands travelling under your shirt

Another was at a Indian marriage, with Euphemia dressed up in a gorgeous lehenga and Fleamont in a salwar, with you in between looking as pretty as always. One was Fleamont experimenting with some potion to include all three of your DNA to form one kid, which ended up working and next photo was of Euphemia's pregnant belly as Fleamont and you slept against it.

Another was of you softly nibbling a very chunky baby James' cheek, how cute was he, such a cute smile and he was so chubby, my goodness...

So many memories this one journal held, as Fleamont held James against his chest, calming him to burp and sleep as Fleamont got into bed with Euphemia, opening one side of James' crib and lowering it's height so the crib was at same height as their bed and put the bassinet right against the bed, so James could sleep in his own bed, but both him and Euphemia could have contact with it.

Now they needed one more, maybe with a sibling for James, James did seemingly miss you..God, how much Euphemia loved you and Fleamont even through the years..

© rxsilabeth--er. This writing work belongs to me, Aurelia, Rosilabeth, Cerine, kiara. Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading this and if you like this check out my blog!

[vickyvicarious]

I can't decide my favorite part of this update...

The drawback to this otherwise singularly fruity binge was, of course, the fact that Jeeves wouldn’t be on the spot to watch me in action. Still, apart from that there wasn’t a flaw. The beauty of the thing was, you see, that nothing could possibly go wrong.

Bertie wanting to show off to Jeeves so much. Also, his confident assertion that there are no issues with his plan whatsoever (right before everything about it goes wrong).

I had decided to open the proceedings by sort of paving the way for young Bingo. I mean to say, without actually mentioning his name, I wanted to prepare the girl’s mind for the fact that, surprising as it might seem, there was someone who had long loved her from afar and all that sort of rot.

Knew exactly how this was going to go immediately, but honestly Bertie is SUCH a good pal. He's so so good to his friends, it's really sweet.

Well, on the night the misguided female forgot to stand by, and it was a full minute before the search-party located her and shot her on to the stage. And all that time I had to stand there, waiting. 

This is such a nightmare scenario??? Oh my god.

When I had finished getting the water out of my eyes and had time to take a look round, I saw him about ten yards away, going strongly and using, I think, the Australian crawl. The spectacle took all the heart out of me. 

Poor Bertie! But I gotta admit that's hilarious.

“You are funny!” she said again. “First proposing in that extraordinary roundabout way, and then pushing poor little Oswald into the lake so as to impress me by saving him.”

I can definitely see where she started thinking of him as a cute dumbass. And he is but not specifically for her, haha. Honoria's reaction here makes me like her all the more, except then the talk about making something of Bertie is kinda sucky. Too akin to his aunt, as I think he said last time? Still I'd love it if this whole situation resolved with her and Bertie being friends (alas I don't expect it).

Two days later I got a letter from Jeeves.

“… The weather,” it ended, “continues fine. I have had one exceedingly enjoyable bathe.”

Trying to decide if this is pure coincidence or if Jeeves has his temp spying on Bertie or something and is making a sneaky snide reference. I lean towards the spying.

Also though, Jeeves writes him letters on his vacation! That's adorable. (Also, how to say... not your typical employee-employer relationship, no?)

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

Sing Yourself to Sleep - Bucky x Y/N -Part 2 - Dancing in the Moonlight

Thanks so much for the love on the first part of this series. Here is Part Two; Vaguely inspired by 'Dancing in the Moonlight' by Toploader.

It was a cause for celebration at Thorpe Abbotts. One of the pilots had just completed thier 25th misson, so a party in the officers club was in order. Y/N was excited to have something nice to focus on, she baked a cake for the occasion and serveral other treats in the hopes of lining the mens stomachs. By the time she had gotten ready; a light pink dress on which Albert had bought her some years ago, she realised she was running late and still hadnt brought the cake to the officers club.

Carrying the cake from the kitchen over to the club, she could already hear the jazz music from outside. It made her giddy, walking as fast as she could. She walked into the club and as met with a glorious sight. Everyone from officers to nurses to mechanics were in the club, drinking, dancing, being normal. It was almost as if there was no war. It was meerly someones birthday. Everyone was light and carefree.

She walked to the table where the food was sitting and places the cake in the centre, smiling at her handiwork. 'Hello cake fairy.' a deep, familiar voice came from behind her. She turned to see Bucky standing smiling at her. 'Cake fairy?' she said with a laugh. 'Yeah, you always just appear, with cake, like magic.' A small blush coated her cheeks, 'It's not magic Major, just a basic sponge cake receipe.' Bucky swiped his finger along the edge of the cake, collecting some frosting. Y/N gasped, ready to hit him for ruining her masterpiece. He stuck his finger in his mouth, closing his eyes, and suddenly her words became lost in her throat. 'Mm, tastes pretty magical to me.'

The night was splended, everyone dancing, laughing enjoying themselves. Albert didn't dance much, but she did convince him to have her for one trip around the dance floor. It only made her want to dance even more. But Albert refused, taking to his seat with his whiskey. 'Oh please Bertie, just one more dance! I love this song.' 'Oh Y/N, I already danced once, I've reached my quota.' Sighing in defeat, she sat back down next to her husband. 'I'll dance with you.' She spun round to see Bucky once again at her side. 'Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear, I'd be happy to dance with you, if that's alright with you Colonel.' Y/N looked between her husband and Bucky. Albert smiled, 'You'd be doing me a favour, Major Egan. Dance and dance until she's tired out.' he said making them both chuckle. She kissed him on the cheek, 'Thank you dear.' Bucky held out his hand to her, she took it and he led her to the dance floor.

One dance turned into two and three, and soon Y/N was breathless and in need of a drink. She made her way back to her table, but her husband was nowhere to be found. A young lieutenant approached her, 'Mrs. Clarke? The Colonel told me to tell you he had gone to bed and he would see you later.' 'Oh, thank you lieutenant.' Y/N was nly slightly dissapointed, she knew Bertie wasnt one for parties, he only came because she so desperatly wanted to attend. 'Not one for parties huh?' Bucky said to her why also handing her a drink. 'Oh, thank you, no he isn't. He says he's too old for it. I think he's just shy.'

'The Colonel? Shy? I can't see it.' 'Colonel Clarke might not be, but Bertie, he's a sweet soul.' She said smiling. Bucky could see the love she held for him in her eyes. 'He's a lucky man. And so am I, cause now I get to hold onto my dancing partner.' He said with a wide grin. She laughed, 'Isn't there a poor nurse somewhere you should be trying to seduce?' He feigned shock 'I am nothing but a respectable gentlemen, and seeing as the Colonel left you with me, it is my duty to make sure you dance until your feet hurt. So lets go.' He held out his hand, and she happily obliged.

The night drew to a close, and Y/N and Bucky were more than a bit tipsy. Bucky offered to walk her to her quarters, but it got to the stage where it was unsure who was walking who home. 'I had the most wonderful time, thank you Bucky. I'm sure you had better plans for your evening than babysitting me.' 'You kiddin' doll? Tonights the most *hiccup* fun I've had in ages. You're a hell of a dancer.' he slurred his words, but she just giggled, also finding speech a little difficult at this point. 'Oh thanks, you are a fantastic dancer too.' Bucky stopped walking to look at her 'You make great cakes. And you're pretty. As sweet and pretty as a cupcake.' Y/N blushed, she wasnt used to compliments other than her husbands usual 'You look nice.' She hoped in the dark he couldnt see the pink in her cheeks. 'Bucky you're really too kind, it's just-'

He cut her off with a kiss. He pressed his lips to hers so suddenly, she froze. Suddenly she felt fully sober. She broke the kiss and backed away. Bucky's face suddenly looked as panicked as hers. 'I'm sorry Y/N I -' 'Don't tell anyone about this. Goodnight Major.' she scurried off to her quarters, mind racing about what had just happened.

Bucky watched her walk away, also suddenly feeling more sober. He looked to the bright moon in the sky, the only witness to his indiscretion. 'Fuck.' he said, knowing her had made a major mistake. A mistake he wanted to make again.