#Ladies European Tour

[untilthenexttee]

(via U.S. Team and European Team Standings Through June 24, 2024)

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Attribué à Maurice-Quentin de La Tour (French, 1704-1788) Portrait of a Lady Wearing a Pink Dress, 1786

[venus-haze]

She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Soldier Boy’s been pulled from the European Theater to sell war bonds to the American people, the goodwill tour dotted by big cities and small towns alike. In the meantime, he gets familiar with the variety of women in dazzling costumes that accompany his speeches with carefully choreographed dances. You’re, without a doubt, his favorite of them all.

Note: Female (blink and you’ll miss it implied plus size) reader, but no other descriptors are used. This fic is so short because it’s pretty much PWP. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Dressing room sex, mirrors, breeding kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, overstimulation, implied baby trapping. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Chattering from the packed high school auditorium somehow seeped through the walls. The rural town that was the latest stop in Soldier Boy’s war bond drive had shown up en masse out of patriotism or sheer curiosity. Usually both. Electricity was always in the air before the show in small towns. Some of them didn’t even have movie theaters. 

You and the other dancers on the tour had set up camp in one of the bigger classrooms, using it to get ready in since it was near one of the bathrooms. Dresses, sequins, and makeup scattered about the room, making the place of learning look like a department store had exploded inside. You’d been helping another girl with the curlers in her hair until a masculine voice called out your name from the doorway.

“Soldier Boy wants to see you in his dressing room.”

You nodded, giving an apologetic look to your colleague, who waved you off. It wasn’t unusual for Soldier Boy to call on one of you to help him “warm up” before the shows. Lately, however, he’d almost exclusively been asking for you, to the detriment of your jaw. 

Grabbing a nearby tube of red lipstick, you hastily applied it in the illuminated mirror in front of you. The lipstick residue soon adorned a tissue that you discarded, and you used your fingertips to gently massage the muscles in your face in preparation for taking him again. You hoped you’d at least get to come this time.

A flyer had gotten you to this point, stark white with patriotic motifs, pinned to a board in the nightclub you had been working in prior to getting the gig. Uncle Sam declared, “Ladies, you can serve your country too!” You figured why not, there was a war on, and if you could do something to help, you might as well. 

Your qualifications led you to your local USO office, where you were handed a star-spangled outfit and joined a gaggle of other girls to be the supporting act on Soldier Boy’s war bonds tour across the country. At times, you felt silly, kicking and shimmying to audiences who were clearly only putting up with the opener just to catch a glimpse at the world’s first superhero. A man larger than life in every sense of the word, as you and your fellow dancers on the tour would learn.

Wandering the hallway, you checked each door for an indication of which commandeered classroom was his. Not one for subtlety, his dressing rooms always had ‘SOLDIER BOY’ printed in large letters, declaring his presence. You found the sign toward the end of the hall, giving a smile to the usual group of people who congregated around him, assistants and handlers to keep him on schedule.

You knocked on the door, announcing your arrival. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you asked when he opened the door. 

He smiled, putting his hand on your lower back as he ushered you inside. “Sure did, sweetheart.”

His dressing room always betrayed his vices—alcohol, drugs, porno mags. It didn’t faze you anymore, not like the first time he asked for you, a stuttering mess in his presence. Back then, you had to take a shot with him to settle your nerves enough to blow him without feeling too self-conscious. Now, it was routine. You moved to get on your knees, but he stopped you, to your confusion. 

Instead, he disarmed you with a passionate kiss that nearly knocked you over. You steadied yourself on his strong arms that had made their home near your hips. He squeezed them, pulling you closer so your body was flush against his as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. 

You let him take the lead, he always did—strong, masculine, hard-working. Wasn’t America lucky its hero was easy on the eyes too? Except he had a temper, a mean streak that could go for miles. Not that you’d ever been on the receiving end of it. No, for all his faults, you seemed to get the best of Soldier Boy.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispered against your lips.

“You have?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re—“ he paused, searching for the word he wanted to use, “special to me.”

You weren’t sure why he was laying it on so thick. It wasn’t your first rodeo with him. “Special?”

“‘Course you are. You wouldn't be here if you weren’t,” he said. “I wanna try something different today, alright, doll?”

“Alright,” you agreed softly.

He smiled. “That’s my girl.”

Your body came alive at his praise, and you pressed your lips to his for another kiss. He guided your body backward until you bumped into the vanity. Parting his lips from yours, he turned you around, bending you over it so you were face to face with yourself in the mirror. 

You looked at him from the reflection, brows furrowed as you wondered what he was doing. 

He leaned down, voice husky in your ear as he growled, “I want you to see how pretty you look when you come.”

Your eyes widened, and you grabbed either side of the vanity in preparation, to his amusement. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck as he pushed up your shimmery skirt, exposing your red, satin panties, specially made to be on display. Soon, your panties were around your heeled feet, one of his hands reaching to play with your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts through your top.

“We look good together, don’t you think, sweetheart?” he asked, intense gaze studying your reactions.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, trying to keep your eyes open. 

He always wanted you to look at him. From your knees when you were sucking him off, when he’d be standing on the side of the stage during your act, in his hotel rooms when he couldn’t find local girls to fuck around with. This instance was different, though, able to really see him, and yourself. You didn’t find your glassy gaze or parted lips particularly flattering, but he couldn’t seem to get enough.

His fingers had already brought you close to climax, and you whined when he pulled them away from you for a moment to free his hard cock from his pants. You shuddered, feeling it on your skin before he guided it in your pussy. Your hands curled around the vanity you were bracing yourself on. You weren’t sure if you’d get used to how his cock seemed to split you apart every time.

One of his arms wrapped just below your chest to hold you up, as you struggled to support yourself when he started pounding into you. Your pussy was already wet and pliant for him, and you'd be embarrassed by the obscene squelching sounds if you weren't so focused on getting off when he had brought you so close to the edge already.

You were your own voyeur, your brain feeling like it was going to melt, watching yourself getting fucked by him. His superhuman strength always caught you off guard, from the first time he shocked you by lifting you above his head on stage for a roaring crowd to the way he could make your body feel—and look—like you were little more than a ragdoll. 

“Gonna put a baby in you,” he grunted as he thrust into you, items falling from the vanity and onto the floor at the force he used to fuck you. “Want you up on that stage with my cum leaking out every time you kick up those legs—fuck—you’re mine.”

Your pussy clenched around him at the vulgar image he conjured up. “Yours daddy.”

His voice was strained, words slurring together. He was close. “‘S right, baby. Keep fuckin’ you ‘till you make me one. You like takin’ daddy’s dick, don’t you?”

You had to force the short affirmation out of your mouth, pleasure’s chokehold creeping up on you. That wasn’t enough for him or his ego.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“I love taking—oh fuck—taking your dick, daddy.”

He came, hard and sloppy as your pussy milked his cock. You cried out, feeling so full it almost started to hurt. Something in you finally snapped, releasing the pain and pressure as you rode out your orgasm on his softening cock. Your arms gave out from under you so that it was just his strength holding you up. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to go back to having sex with men who weren’t well-endowed superheroes. Go back to faking it, you supposed.

Your throat was sore. You hadn’t paid attention to how loud you were being. Everyone outside the room must’ve known what was happening if they didn’t have an idea when you first showed up looking for him. 

Soldier Boy pulled himself out of you, and you could hear fabric rustling and the sound of his zipper again. You didn’t bother trying to stand up, still needing time to catch your breath. 

He used his fingers to swipe up some of his cum that had begun dripping out of you, causing you to gasp at the slight sensation of them brushing against your pussy. You whimpered when he pushed his index and middle fingers inside you, already aching from the orgasm he’d just pulled from you. 

“I—I can’t—“

‘I can’t get pregnant and ruin my career,’ you wanted to say, but all that came from your lips was a desperate, animalistic moan.

“I got you, baby,” Soldier Boy whispered, voice low and husky in your ear. “Give me one more so it sticks.”

You choked on air as his thumb brushed your clit, rubbing circles in the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers pushed deeper, and your hips bucked at the overstimulation, your spent pussy reactively pulsing around his cum-slicked fingers that curled inside you.

The woman staring back at you in the mirror was a mess with her mascara stained cheeks and smeared lipstick. You were utterly unrecognizable as you came again, harder on his fingers this time, crying out as you gripped the edge of the vanity, threatening to break one of your manicured nails. 

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing kisses to your cheek, as you came down from your second orgasm, pulling his hand from between your legs. “You alright?”

“I think so,” you breathed. “Jesus Christ.”

Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, and you wondered how the hell you were going to be able to dance in less than half an hour. You’d have to reapply all of your makeup too.

He turned you around, looking at you with a brief fondness before kissing your lips, soft and quick. 

“I need to fix my face,” you breathed.

He smiled. “Why? You look great.” 

You laughed softly as he gave you space. You pulled up your panties from around your ankles, knowing his cum would stain them by the time you made it back to the dancers’ makeshift dressing room. Taking some of the tissues from the box on top of the vanity, you began wiping your ruined makeup from your face. He stared at you in silence from the spot he’d taken on the loveseat that’d been brought in for him.

“I think I’d be a good father. Better than my old man,” he said finally.

You paused, looking at him from the mirror, giving him a sardonic smile. “I don’t see you as the settling down type.”

“Maybe I just need a woman worth coming home to.”

“Maybe,” you echoed.

“C’mere.”

You obliged, joining him on the loveseat. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. You let yourself bask in the intimacy.

“Things aren’t always gonna be like this,” he said. “Once the war’s over, what’re you gonna do? Go back to dancing in nightclubs?”

“Why not?”

His jaw clenched, cheek twitching as he pulled his gaze from you. “I don’t want you doing this for anyone but me.”

This could have been any number of things, dancing, fucking, being at his beck and call. Knowing him, he meant all of it.

“Ben,” you said, grabbing his attention, “then you have to tell me what you do want.”

“I want you. I want the white picket fence, kids running around the yard with the dog,” he said, the intensity in his voice wrapping tendrils around your mind, pulling you into the world he was describing. “I want dinner to burn ‘cause I was busy putting another baby in you when I got home.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

A voice through the door startled you. “Soldier Boy, the mayor’s here to see you!” 

“Think about it,” Soldier Boy said, getting up from the loveseat to grab his helmet and shield. 

The door shut behind him, leaving you to agonize over the future he presented to you. Part of you wondered if you’d really have a choice.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o's grandma hobbies

requested by anon!

masterlist

seungcheol

my man goes bird watching with you. does he get a little embarrassed when you deck out in full bird-watching gear and peer through your binoculars at the trees while making fascinated noises? yeah, but he also finds it rather endearing. knows nothing about birds, and doesn't even try learning bc he knows he'll be hopeless at it anyway, so he's sitting next to you for hours with no clue what's going on. but at the end of it, you're packing up with a bright beam on your face, delighted that cheol came with you, and honestly it makes it all so, so worth it

jeonghan

see, here's the thing. he's not allowed to tease you for your countless puzzles, and you're not allowed to tease him for his countless lego sets. it's a mutual agreement. sometimes, you'll have days where you both sit down with your respective crafts, poring over them individually, sometimes with music on, often in silence. and then jeonghan will bring up some interesting thing he heard the other day, and the both of you will start gossiping like old ladies (or teenage girls?) the entire time, and honestly, those times are the highlights of your day

joshua

he's banned from using your yarn or your knitting needles for anything ever, because one time he somehow stabbed your couch cushions and shredded them to bits. (you're still now sure how that happened. he won't tell you.) but sometimes, he'll see you knitting in bed and smile, before slipping off somewhere and returning with his guitar, and those are the softest nights that remain ingrained in your memory, where you knit stupidly tiny socks for joshua and he serenades you with 'sunday morning' on loop

junhui

honestly, he's just utterly fascinated. several of your cross-stitching projects are stored in the fancy glass cabinet in your living room, and sometimes you'll catch him staring at them when he thinks you're in your room, wide-eyed in wonder. he saw you making all of these pieces, saw you make every single one of those stitches, but he's still so amazed at how beautiful the end product is. you gifted him an intricate piece of a moon and flowers for his birthday, and he still calls it the most precious thing he owns

hoshi

this man takes your collection of tiny european spoons very seriously. seungkwan teases him, saying that you've turned him into a grandma too, but he ignores the younger guy because your spoons are important to you, so they're important to him too. polishes them for you when you're away. asks for updates on your spoons while he's away on tour. helps name each and every spoon, and when he comes back from going abroad, he greets you with a grin and a kiss and a new spoon for your collection

wonwoo

??? he's so confused bc your gardening hobby does Not sound very grandma-ish to him, no matter what you say. you were initially rather awkward, very shy when telling him that you really loved gardening, but he supports u and thinks that it's such a nice hobby. wonwoo has very un-green fingers, so he always watches you tend to your garden from a good few feet away, but he can't help but smile at how earnestly you work, beaming so brightly the entire time and it's so obvious how much you love gardening

woozi

he never sees you do sudokus unless you're sitting on the couch in his studio, biting your nail and waiting for him to finish up so you can go home together. he just thinks it's really sweet, actually, and the idea of you doing the sudoku while he's agonising over his latest composition is something that he can't think of for too long because then he gets distracted by how adorable he thinks that is. you've fallen asleep over your sudoku too many times to count, and when you wake up, woozi feigns innocence to how your latest grid has suddenly magically filled itself

minghao

drinking tea isn't a fucking grandma hobby, kwon soonyoung, it's called being educated. both of you like drinking tea, going through tea ceremonies when you're both exhausted, taste testing different types of tea and commenting on the different notes and fragrances you can taste from them. he met you while on a tea tour around asia, and since then, the two of you just clicked so well, and he loves sipping sakura tea in the evenings and reminiscing on your first meeting, all those years ago

mingyu

fucking!! loves!! everything you knit for him!! the socks you knitted for him are his fluffiest sleeping socks. he Only wears the scarf you knitted for him during the winter months. one time, you gifted him a knitted sweater for his birthday and it instantly became his statement piece that he wore everywhere until it finally grew too threadbare and you had to make him a new one. the gentle clacking of your knitting needles on a saturday evening is the most relaxing sound in the world, and he's fallen asleep on your shoulder while you knit countless times

dokyeom

he has, admittedly, fallen asleep more than a handful of times while sitting next to you on the sofa as you indulge in your guilty pleasure: tv shows on antiques. he understands that it's something you find very fascinating and very interesting, but ten minutes in his eyes are getting droopy but nonono baby he's not falling asleep! he's just gonna… rest… his eyes… but then he eventually ends up dozing on your shoulder. he likes listening to you talk about your favourite episodes, though, the fondness colouring his lips as you gesture animatedly, eyes bright

seungkwan

the highlight of his sunday morning is sitting at the table with two cups of coffee ready, twiddling his thumbs and staring out of the window, waiting for you to burst in through the front door, coming back from your daily walk with the newspaper in your hands and slamming the crossword down in front of him. he loves poring over them with you, and sure, maybe he teases you about this very grandma-like hobby, but you tease him back because he's literally here doing them with you, isn't he? 

vernon

supports you in your dream to own all of the most grandma-style cardigans in the entire world. that's it. he has no other opinion. he's pretty chill with it, and don't listen to what minghao says,babe, 'cause he personally thinks that the purple and orange zigzag cardigan with aquamarine dots is the most stylish cardigan of your entire collection. sometimes unironically steals your cardigans to wear himself, because they're all so soft and so comfy and they smell like you so when he's at work, he can feel like you're there with him too <3

chan

you swear, your tomato plants love your boyfriend more than they love you, their actual owner. ever since you admitted to your boyfriend that you have a part of an allotment where you grow various fruits and veg, he's come to visit your babies and honestly, you've never seen your tomatoes flourishing as much as they are right now. does he think you're like an elderly person for tending so solemnly to some plants? yeah. but he can't exactly talk, because he loves your plants, and you two literally have skits where you pretend to be an elderly couple literally every day, so it's nothing out of the ordinary at all

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[aimzicr]

I always associated the Three Ladies of Castle Dracula in my mind as ‘Brides of Dracula’ because pop-culture osmosis and/or adults around me specifically referencing Hammer Films, even if that isn’t accurate to the text. 

Still, with Dracula being a representation of inversions of the ‘natural order’, we have here a ‘til death do us part’ in which he’s Still Single but he hasn’t let go of his other possessions. He’s a warlord, boyar, master of all, and they’re part of what he owns. He doesn’t just treat employees and guests as property to do with as he wishes, but also the women he apparently once loved. Love and possession are apparently the same thing to him. Messed up.

Given the descriptions of the women, two of them seem to be at least locals, or of the same cultural background as Dracula himself (he did go into great excited detail about his history and his empire before, and the strength of his people, so it wouldn’t be that odd for him to be wife-shopping in the European region he conquered). 

On the other hand, we have a woman described in a more Victorian style of beauty, and Jonathan has a ‘dreamy fear’ that he kind of recognises this third woman, the blonde woman. What if he does recognise her, from posters from music halls or theatres that he would have seen as a child? What if this third bride is a famous Englishwoman? An actress or performer who went missing on some tour decades ago? Hence the odd recognition he can’t place - she was a celebrity, and her pictures were around, but a young Jonathan would have no association with her because she was just before his time.

But Dracula had to get the idea to take over London (and then England) from somewhere. What if his new foreign bride wouldn’t stop talking about The Empire Where The Sun Never Sets, and possessive, obsessive Dracula went ‘I want that, too’?

Also, when the women come across Jonathan sleeping, the agreement of who to kiss him first is very quick. ‘Yours is the right’. What if she gets first dibs not because she’s Dracula’s current favourite or best or strongest wife/consort, but because Jonathan is her fellow Englishman? That she misses home so much, and her homesickness has been tainted by her vampirism that she just needs a little taste of home, no matter what that means? And her ‘sisters’ recognise that, and give her the right to kiss first, before they drain him dry?

[padfootscoldleathers]

ladies, gents, bents, non-conformants!

welcome welcome one and all to me posting about my fic and welcome to my mailbox if you want to send me stuff you'd like to see in the fic (i will consider them even if they dont make it to the fic)

this is a band au for the marauders era BUT the original marauders are not the band. let me explain.

Band: Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Dorcas (no band name yet so shoot your shot if you want to)

the marauders era characters have a LOT of different roles here. Regulus and Pandora are dancers, Mary and Peter grew up together & met Remus in highschool in America and did music but now Mary and Remus are somewhat duo singers. (i made Remus southern you'll get why in the fic) Alice is kind of an enigma but we'll get to know her. I'll show you all her colours i promise. Evan manages Mary and Remus and has such a goofy big brother personality. MINERVA the queen that she is, is basically the band's mother/manager. fluffy black brothers!! oh, and andromeda is dead.

i know what you're thinking "where the fuck is james?? lily?? barty??" hehe WELL you're not gonna like this. lily is the villain here and not in a good way. it was a VERY toxic marylily and lily is the Casual girl (chappell roan) ANYWAAAY you're gonna see a LOT of that BUT she does have her redemption arc. i think. maybe.

barty broke up with sirius 2 months before the beginning of the fic (which starts on their american tour at the last couple concerts) they grew up together, its very bittersweet, might give you heartburn. AGAIN redemption arc, they do have a heart-to-heart.

and uhh james is a very happy very sudden very scandalous surprise

ch. 1

this fic in short is the band through their last leg of the american tour when mary flies out early and sirius asks her to join them for the rest of the tour and the european tour in a couple months. mary and sirius hold each other up through harsh breakups and slowly find new love. the marauders era do a lot of dumb shit make a lot of memories. exes come back and get dragged out, maybe-soulmates enter their lives and life happens all at once. but theyre still just kids and they have a lot of laughs

don't worry guys, every couple shall get their minute of fame

basically the journey (and reflective of a couple of characters) of their life together. they find love, they find FRIENDSHIP, they find beauty in the little things, they find laughter and peace and passion. this entire fic for me was to discover all the little things, the day to day things that makes life what it is: beautiful. it's filled with jokes and family and bittersweet memories. its those moments you want to remember when you're old in your rocking chair or young on a porch swing. its all the little bright places.

ships & sexualities (let me cook)

alice - aroace bi

peter - aroace bi

mary - lesbian

pandora - pansexual

remus - bisexual

sirius - the gayest man to ever gay

regulus - transmasc gay

james - demispec pansexual

dorcas - lesbian

marlene - demisexual lesbian

lily - "not a lesbian"

barty - aroallo, gay

evan - transmasc bisexual

mary x pandora = bitterhope/pandamary/ rosemary (my roman empire)

peter x alice = palice (most beautiful qpr to ever qpr in the marauders era)

sirius x remus = wolfstar

regulus x james = sunseeker

dorcas x marlene = dorlene (they need something cooler)

evan x barty = rosekiller (gonna happen eventually though i kinda just dunno how)

i'm going to post in snips on this blog until i figure out the ao3 tags etc. main blog: @morallyundefined

@moonyswarmsweaters @sspadfoot @thingthatoncewastruee @babygirlsteddie @probs-reading

@labyrinthhofmymind @percabeth-trash @drunktayloratthevmas @cheekyboybeth

@starving-marauder-lover @yourlocalbadgerscales @taleofapart-timepoet @mirrs-ball

@tea-blankets-andstars @where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @starregulus @siriusly-insane @jamespotterbbg

[s1riuslyy]

Hey darling! Can I request wrong a fic with Ben wherein he's in a very lowkey relationship with the reader and the reader attended one of his shows and Ben just couldn't take his eyes off of her and some fans noticed the way Ben looked at her and they all made their theory on TikTok and Ben and Reader just laughed when they saw the theories?

A Love Song to You

A/N: Hello Love, thank you for this request! I am so happy to write this after seeing him life, so enjoy!! I hope you like it! pls keep in mind my first language isn't English! pairing: Ben Barnes x reader warnings: not proofread (if I should add any, hit me up) word count: 441 words (its a short one, but I still have to find my way into writing again)

(picture does not belong to me)

Ben fidgets with his necklace. A sign of nervousness. But how could he not be? Today is his first show in London which also means that his European Tour starts. He already had two shows in the US, but being here in his home country, with family and friends there, is different.

But that's not the only thing why's he excited. Today is also the first time you, his wonderful girlfriend, finally sees him in concert, not being able to come to the first two.

You were at least equally as excited. You have always adored your boyfriend's voice and finally being able to hear him play live and see him happy means so much to you.

"Ben, stop it! You're making me nervous, too!", you said to Ben from your place of the couch, while he is pacing through the room in the backstage area.

"I am sorry, love. I just cannot believe I am finally doing it. I always thought my Rockstar career lasted for just three minutes!", he turns around and looks at you.

You stand up from your place on the couch and make your way to stand in front of him. Ben immediately takes you into his arms and you can feel how he relaxes.

"You can do it, darling! I am incredibly proud of you!", you tell him. Ben squeezes you harder in his arms and you just enjoy his company before the big moment.

Ben was exhausted. The concert was amazing, but he's happy to just be home with you. Tomorrow would already be night two in London, so he takes any rest he can.

The couple of you lays on the couch with Ben just enjoying his cuddles and you scrolling through your social media and viewing some videos of Ben's performance the fans have already posted.

"You really couldn't keep your eyes off of me", you joked and showed Ben some of the videos where his gaze stayed on you the whole time.

Ben always tried to keep as much of his life private and safe for the private life, so no one really knew much of his relationships. For that reason you find all of the things the fans have to say hilarious.

"Look what some of the people write! 'Is that this mysterious Lady who stole our man's heart?' or 'Ben Barnes being a lovesick puppy for his girlfriend' oh my god I love this"

"Oh no, was I really that obvious?", Ben asked while laughing because you showed him some videos on TikTok.

"You were, my love. But I loved it." you said and gave him a little kiss.

[wonwoosthetic]

AllKpop 240210 🌷 Minnie

< series masterlist

Carats were surprised with SEVENTEEN’s Minnie’s sudden appearance at Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour concert in Tokyo, February 9th. The idol had expressed her love and appreciation for the pop singer multiple times before, yet fans were shocked when she attended the concert 700 miles away from Seoul with no other member in sight.

Minnie seemed to have enjoyed her time during the concert, singing along to the songs by the American musician, making Carats turn to Social Media almost instantly, updating other fans about her whereabouts and well-being. Yet, some netizens were left unamused, disappointed and angry by the idol’s spirit.

“Singing during a concert is one thing, but the way she shouted out certain words seemed almost disrespectful.“

“Taylor Swift is known for her misandrist songs. No idol, especially not someone with a popularity like Minnie, should even think to sing those lyrics so passionately.”

“I don’t care if she likes her music, to be honest, but she doesn’t have to be so open about it.”

“I wonder what her members are thinking about her singing songs belittling men…”

“This is what happens when you let her go out without the other members”

“She knows how famous she is, she must know there are hundreds of cameras on her and still, she decided to scream such disgusting words out loud”

“I want to like Seventeen but she is making it very hard.”

“I really hope Seungcheol will lecture her about this”

“This is so embarrassing for her omg”

“Her European friends have always been a bad influence on her, this is your proof”

Social Media users spread videos of Minnie singing along to songs like “The Man” and “Ready For It…?”, as well as “champagne problems”, where the K-Pop singer can be seen “passionately” shouting out curse words - “Bitch” and “fucked” being only a few of them. The critique of enjoying feminist songs followed quickly after.

Carats did not hold back as they came to defend the only female member of the widely popular idol group.

“She’s 26 years old, you don’t expect her to curse?!”

“I remember when Vernon said ‘shibal’ by accident and Carats found it funny. Here is Minnie singing along to lyrics, that she didn’t write, that hold the word ‘fuck’ and she gets criticised for it…”

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we need to sing The Man even louder.”

“Minnie is finally able to go out of the country and enjoy her free time, seeing her biggest idol and you guys aren’t letting her have a good time while I bet you’re throwing around even worse curse words every day”

“I bet she’ll come home and laugh her ass off reading all the hate comments.”

“She grew up around multiple dudes in their teenage years, I promise you, bitch and fuck are the softest curse words to come out of her mouth hahaha”

“Just wait until they find out all of the members of Seventeen hate men😂”

“You can’t be serious about this…”

“You guys are calling her bitch, whore, and what not on the internet, but as soon as she says it, it becomes a problem? Lock yourself into a basement pls”

“Oh sorry, I forgot, you guys don’t curse?”

“I can hear the guys clapping and supporting her from here haha”

Swift, who is an advocate Democrat and open Feminist, has been a big inspiration for the female idol, as she has often mentioned in the past, explaining why she would be enjoying finally getting to sing along to the Pop singer’s songs. Minnie has yet to respond to the hateful comments, but Carats are positive that she won’t address this issue and continue enjoying her life as a happy “Swiftie”.

[warwickroyals]

Sunderland's Royal Jewel Vault (12/∞) ♛

↬ Queen Matilda Mary's Pearl Fringe Tiara

Out of all the tiaras in Sunderland's royal jewelry box, Queen Matilda's Pearl Fringe is perhaps the most remarkable. The tiara, which Queen Irene once called a wall of diamonds, is instantly recognizable due to its classic design with an intriguing twist. In 1908, the Prince and Princess of Danforth celebrated their silver wedding anniversary. The occasion was a great excuse for lavish celebrations and, more importantly, for Sunderland's courtiers to curry favour with extravagant gifts. Predictably, this turned gift-giving into a fierce competition between aristocratic families, who vied for the most expensive gift. To produce a magnificent gift, a group of prominent women formed an uneasy alliance. The three women included: the Marchioness of Bathurst (wife of the current Conservative prime minister), the Countess of Bloor and the Countess Farnsworth (the paternal great-aunt of the future Tatiana, Princess of Danforth). Pooling their combined wealth, the women were able to afford a major piece of jewelry for the princess. They quarrelled throughout the process, notably over the tiara's design and who would present the gift at Chester Palace, but the princess herself was impressed with their effort. The resulting tiara was a spectacular fringe tiara of white and yellow gold set with diamonds. Much to Matilda's delight, the tiara bore similarities to Queen Caroline's Fringe Tiara, a favourite of her estranged mother-in-law Queen Alexandra. The tiara featured sixty brilliant-set graduated bars and drop pearl toppers which cloud easily removed. Futuring over 400 diamonds, it cost around $7,480. Princess Matilda took an instant liking to the tiara, choosing to debut it at the wedding of her eldest surviving son, the Duke of Woodbine to Lady Anne Sunningdale, in 1913. At the wedding, the tiara generated interest from the press and public, who marvelled at the tiara's dazzling beauty. When Matilda Mary became queen in 1921, it continued to maintain the title of her most recognizable tiara. When Matilda Mary died in 1945, it was inherited by her daughter-in-law Anne. Despite having not one but two other fringe tiaras, wore the tiara consistently throughout her husband's reign. Posing in it for multiple portraits. Queen Anne died in 1973, and along with most of her personal jewels, she bequeathed the tiara to her granddaughter-in-law, Queen Irene. The piece quickly became a central part of Irene’s jewelry collection, being worn frequently throughout Irene and Louis's first European tour in 1973-4 where the press once again gawked at the tiara's enthralling row of diamonds. It is one of the few tiaras Irene has worn consistently throughout her tenure as queen, having appeared during foreign tours, at royal premieres, and at state banquets across the world.

[untilthenexttee]

U.S. Team and European Team Standings Through June 24, 2024

U.S. Team Points Standings Captain Stacy Lewis; Assistant Captains Morgan Pressel, Angela Stanford, Paula Creamer, Brittany Lincicome Ally Ewing moved from fourth to third in the U.S. Solheim Cup Team points standings after her tie for fifth at the KPMG Women’s PGA Championship. Lauren Coughlin jumped from 10th to eighth after she tied for 24th at the KPMG WPGA; she is now just 31.5 points out…

[tojisbbygworl]

BEYONCÉ?- Miles Morales Imagine

This is literally just a stupid little idea I thought of when I saw the Beyoncé Spidersona that Sony posted

“Could this day get any damn weirder?”

Miles looked to his left just in time to dodge the T-Rex coming at him in full speed. He didn’t have time to collect himself before more barrages of Spider people began running into him. “I guess it can.”

There was no time to think, all he could do was run, shoot, and flip. He doesn’t even know where he’s going for real. He just has to get the hell out of there.

Even though he’s panicking, he considers that he’s doing a pretty good job at avoiding Miguel. But when he looks up, he sees the hundreds of Spidermen ready to jump at him on Miguel’s command. “There’s no where to run.”

Yeah that’s what that guy thinks. Miles turns and busts out the window wasting no time.

As he plummets through the air, he has time to collect himself. But, since he just can’t catch a break, he hears a loud buzzing sound behind him. He turns in the air to come face to face with a…spider…bee…lady?

Her outfit is black and yellow with a large mask fitting over her face. The mask was more of a helmet if anything, and had long antennas coming out of the top. She had long beautiful honey blonde hair…and she was flying right at him.

“Oh come the fuck on!” He tries to turn back around but before he can hit the ground, he feels a web on his back. Then he get pulled through the air. He tries desperately to reach around and grab the string, but it’s hard when you’re being flung through the air by a crazy bee woman.

She slams him into a building creating a crater for him to rest in. He shakes his head and looks at her hovering in the air in front of him. “I ain’t never heard of a flying spider.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “My name is Spider-Bey.”

Miles furrows his brows. Her voice was deep and very southern. It sounds…familiar. Extremely familiar. “Oh okay, so you’re like a Bee and a Spider? That’s cool.”

“Thank you,” she says, her southern drawl coming out even more from excitement. She must have liked his compliment. Then the crazy woman reaches into her back and unsheathes a long, black, and skinny katana, pointing it at him.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Miles begins to frantically back into the crater. “What the hell is that? You just get weirder!”

She presses it to his chest. “I was cool 5 seconds ago now I’m weird? Don’t get stung, boy.” Ohhhh he gets it. It’s her stinger. Because she’s a bee. Bees sting. Ahh, okay.

“Before we continue,” he says gulping. “Do I know you? I feel like I know you.”

“I’m very popular amongst most universes.” She answers simply, not faultering.

Miles pauses…then he perks up a bit. Then he gasps. Before he can say anything, both their spider senses tingle. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, flying herself upwards just before the wall breaks open, courtesy of Miguel and the rest of the spider society. She stares at them falling and chuckles to herself when she hears Miles shout:

That was really fun to write. I hope y’all thought it was cute. I was imagining a mixture between the spidersona outfit in the picture and her America has a problem outfit that she wears during the Renaissance World Tour that I often call Renny Sauce for short:

If I was an artist I would draw what I was thinking but I am not so use ur imagination. Alright that’s all! Imma end this with, get ur tickets for the American leg of the RWT if you haven’t alr. Sry to the European babes

[mikerickson]

Lifting my self-imposed embargo because I'm weird and don't like posting on social media when I'm on vacation.

I'm at a point in my life where I can financially justify at least one international vacation a year and figured I'd finally cross off the Great White North from the bucket list. I'd never been and Andrew hadn't been back in a very long time despite having dual citizenship. Anyways, just got back, and a bullet-point breakdown of the highlights is after the cut:

I wish every international flight was under two hours; EWR to YQB was almost comically fast.

Had my first French conversation with the very nice lady at the car rental counter for about ten minutes. She complemented my pronunciation and grammar, and wished me luck on the trip. Every French interaction after this point was a linguistic battle for my life that I lost (Toutes les Québecois parlent trop vite pour moi).

We had some time to kill before the hotel check-in so we went to a mall in the suburbs just so we'd have a food court with some options. Turns out shopping malls are not only alive and well but fucking thriving in Canada. I haven't seen a mall that packed with people outside of December since the nineties.

Quebec City was very dense with old architecture which made it feel very European. It was also apparently built on a fucking cliff with streets at 60 degree inclines, which also felt very European.

Took a tour of the Quebec Parliament building (beautiful structure), and apparently they used to be bicameral, but voted to abolish their Senate in the 60's and they were the last Canadian province to do so. What a concept.

It's one thing to know on paper that Canada has about 1/8th of the population of the US, but I was not prepared for just how empty the countryside felt. For someone like me, living in the northeast my whole life, the idea that cities in close proximity to each other not having continuous stretches of suburbs and other smaller cities connecting them was completely foreign.

On the highways I kept thinking I was speeding because I'd look down at the dashboard and see the number "100", but 100 km/h is only like 62 mph, which is nothing.

Similarly, I kept getting sticker shock every time I spent money, and kept having to remind myself that $1 CAD was like $0.73 USD while we were there.

It was really cool to see that the complex for the 1976 Montreal Olympics is still maintained and actively used (we stumbled upon a skateboarding competition and I did not feel cool enough to be in that crowd). Sometimes you hear horror stories about Olympic villages bankrupting cities and falling into disuse afterwards, but that's definitely not the case here.

Montreal is apparently known for their local bagel culture, but their bagels have enormous holes in the middle of them, so you have less cross-sectional area for spreads and they don't really work for sandwiches. My faith in NJ/NY bagel superiority remains intact.

Every city we went to had dedicated bike lane infrastructure and young families with kids, but Montreal definitely had the most of both. Tons of parks, too. Simultaneously felt like a larger and smaller city than I was expecting.

Poutine is okay, but I wasn't prepared for the cheese to squeak when you bite into it. Very odd sensation.

The main Parliament building for the federal government in Ottawa (Centre Block) is stunning, but closed; apparently it's been under renovation since 2019 and isn't expected to be reopened until 2032! In the meantime, we took a tour of where the lower House of Commons is currently meeting. We learned that their electoral districts are routinely re-drafted by a non-partisan committee and that they occasionally add new seats to the legislature to account for changes in population. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Also toured their Supreme Court building (way more Art Deco than I was expecting). We learned that there's currently a vacancy because a Justice recently retired because they're required to step down when they turn 75. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Every single city had automatic/self-serve parking garages where you didn't have to interact with a human (which I was very thankful for), but in Ottawa they have this little jingle that the machine sings at you when you take your ticket, which I found very amusing.

On the drive to Toronto we took a quick detour into the Thousand Islands (yes, like the salad dressing) and visited Boldt Castle, which is technically in New York state. After seeing it in practice, the idea of living on your own private island is more appealing than ever.

Toronto feels like an exercise in what happens when a nation's largest city is allowed to grow without being hemmed in by ridiculous geography. As someone who grew up in NYC, this is another concept foreign to me. The GPS did get very tripped up navigating a particularly gnarly interchange however.

Toured the Ontario Legislative Assembly (yet another beautiful building). At this point we were really good at asking tour guides stuff like, "so if happens, do you guys have a plan?" To which they would reply, "well, no, but let's just hope that never happens!"

I now understand why the Great Lakes are effectively freshwater inland seas; you really cannot see the other shore, and Lake Ontario isn't even the biggest one!

YYC to EWR was under an hour. That's definitely going to spoil me for future trips going forward.

[kellyvela]

Sophie's Hon Vol. VI Spring/Summer Edition 💐 ☀️

After wrapping her movie Trust in Mexico, Sophie is back home in the UK and has been *having fun* with Perry 😎

BRITISH VOGUE INTERVIEW

In her latest interview with Chioma Nnadi for British Vogue's June 2024 Issue, published online on May 15th 2024, Sophie briefly described what it's like dating Perry:

[...] she’s not entirely alone in Paris. In the past few days, she’s been papped on more than one occasion floating around the French capital with her rumoured new beau, Peregrine Pearson, a handsome British property developer and viscount’s son. “I am having fun dating. It’s very fun,” admits Turner, her striking blue eyes sparkling. “I mean, it’s strange when you get married so young. It’s like you never really learn how to date. So it’s all very new to me.” —British Vogue June 2024 Issue

And they are having fun indeed! During the last two months (May-June) they were seen attending costume parties, enjoying sunny days at his family estate, traveling to Italy, being VIP on Taylor Swift concerts & after concert parties, and more. Let's see!

~~~

LOLA

On Saturday night, May 18th 2024, Sophie posted a picture of Lady Lola Affrica Crichton-Stuart, also known as Lola Bute, on her IG stories:

I'm mentioning this since this was the first crumb we got after Perry's visit to Mexico while Sophie was filming Trust there.

So, since Lola is friends with Perry, it was easy to assume that he was with them that night.

Lola and Sophie started following each other on IG after that outing.

~~~

COSTUME PARTY

On Sunday, May 19th 2024, a picture of Sophie and Perry wearing costumes appeared on this forum.

Sophie looked super cute as Super Girl, while Perry opted for a Batman mask and cape.

After some research I found out that the costume party was a birthday celebration for a relative of Perry.

~~~

COWDRAY ESTATE

Sophie and Perry enjoyed a sunny day at Cowdray Estate (Perry's family estate in Midhurst, West Sussex).

They were joined by some friends and a few of Perry's relatives.

~~~

HEATHROW AIRPORT

On Saturday, May 25th 2024, Sophie and Perry were spotted at Heathrow Airport, leaving London for a romantic getaway to some European destination:

~~~

CAPRI

On Saturday, June 1st 2024, we discovered that Sophie and Perry's European romantic destination was Capri, Italy.

They were seen leaving a bar/restaurant and walking through the streets of Capri, while she was was carrying a shopping bag and smoking a cigarette, and he was holding a glass of white wine and carrying a deck of Monopoly playing cards.

As you can see, Sophie was wearing Perry's navy blue jumper, the same he wore the day they flew to Italy.

She just likes borrowing her boyfriend's clothes ❤️

~~~

THE PENINSULA LONDON GRAND OPENING CELEBRATIONS

On Tuesday, June 18th 2024, Sophie attended the Peninsula London Grand Opening Celebrations, where she was seen with Eleanor Wellesley and Camilla Blandford, who are two of the first friends that Perry introduced to Sophie last year.

~~~

TAYLOR SWIFT CONCERT

Sophie and Perry are now *Taylorfficial*

On Sunday, June 23th 2024, Sophie with Perry and friends Tabby Doherty and Rupert Gorst, attended Taylor Swift's third concert of her Eras Tour at Wembley Stadium in London:

~~~

The four of them enjoyed the concert from the Vip Tent. Here are some pics, gifs and videos:

Sophie and friend Tabby Doherty:

Sophie shared this one on IG. This picture was probably taken by Perry.

~~~

Sophie and singer Gracie Abrams:

~~~

Sophie, Tabby Doherty and Danielle Haim:

~~~

Sophie and friend Tabby Doherty singing Cardigan next to Fleabag's actress Phoebe Waller-Bridge, while Perry was talking with an old gentleman in the back (I think one of Taylor's uncles):

~~~

Sophie singing and dancing Look What You Made Me Do:

~~~

Sophie and Danielle Haim effusively singing and dancing All Too Well (Ten Minutes Version), while Tabby Doherty and Perry shared a hug in the back. In the end of the second gif you can see Sophie hugging singer Gracie Abrams:

So, Tabby Doherty is the Sophie's friend that hangs the most with the couple and seeing Tabby and Perry being this friendly makes me think that, maybe, the anons that messaged me with their suspicions that it was Tabby the common friend that introduced Perry to Sophie were right! 🤔

~~~

Sophie next to Fleabag's Hot Priest actor Andrew Scott:

~~~

Applause for Travis Kelce in the Vip Tent following his stage performance:

In the middle of the video you can see Perry fistpumping Travis in the back 🤜🤛

~~~

Sophie getting friendship bracelets from fans:

She's adorable 😍

~~~

Sophie going and coming (to the bathroom I presume) during the concert:

~~~

Perry holding Sophie and Sophie's bag 🤭:

(After watching this video someone asked me if they were a throuple 🤨)

~~~

In summary, Sophie had the time of her life at Taylor's concert:

~~~

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE

After the concert, Sophie and Perry joined Taylor Swift and boyfriend Travis Kelce for an after party at Chiltern Firehouse:

Last night, an exclusive eyewitness source reported to Deuxmoi that they were seated next to none other than America's prom king and queen Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce at London's Chiltern Firehouse. Taylor celebrated the end of her Wembley shows with a bang, and who better to join the party than the Kansas City Chiefs tight end himself? According to the source, the two were "kissing and looking like they're having so much fun!" The source continued, "Sophie Turner  joined their table, too!" In addition to Turner, Gracie Abrams, the rising singer-songwriter, was seated with the group along with Hayley Williams from Paramore, and English actress-screenwriter Phoebe Waller-Bridge. What a turn out! [Source]

The after party lasted until 4:00 a.m., and when they were leaving Chiltern Firehouse the paparazzi were ready to take the most unflattering pictures of the tired couple. They basically shot their flashes directly at their faces inside their car . . . .

~~~

ROMANTIC PICNIC IN THE COUNTRYSIDE

On Monday, July 1st 2024, Sophie posted a carousel on IG with a couple of pics from a romantic picnic date with Perry somewhere in the countryside 😍:

Perry took the second picture and is tagged on it ❤️

The caption of the carousel is: "🌞 sun, sex and suspicious parents 🌞." That particular caption is a reference to an old BBC Show precisely called Sun, Sex and Suspicious Perents, a documentary -reality television series, where people in their late teens and early twenties go on their first girls'/lads' holiday abroad under the belief that they are getting away from their parents. However, their parents are also sent to the holiday destination and secretly watch footage of their children on video screens and also spy in their hotel rooms and at nightclub locations. The parents then reveal themselves on the last night of the holiday, to the dismay of the children, and tell them what they've seen and learned.

What were you guys doing??? 👀 🤭 🙈

~~~

And this is all for now.

I was hoping that Sophie and Perry's next Summer activity would be Glastonbury, but sadly that didn't happen, as far as I know 😔. But the picnic date pictures were truly an unexpected and lovely gift from the lovebirds ❤️

~~~

You can read the previous editions here: Vol. V - Vol. IV (Appendix) - Vol. IV - Vol. III - Vol. II - Vol. I

Until the next report 👋

[mindfogandsleep]

FAMOUS PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC ILLNESS: 2/?

Lady Gaga - Singer

Lady Gaga announced that she suffers from fibromyalgia in 2017 after the release of her Netflix's Documentary "Five Foot Two". In a tweet from September 2017, Lady Gaga says "In our documentary that #chronicillness #chronicpain I deal w/ is #Fibromyalgia I wish to help raise awareness & connect people who have it". The documentary shows her struggles in a raw and honest way.

Gaga has spoken about her experience saying that "Chronic illness is no joke. It's waking up every morning not knowing how you're going to feel.

Also in 2017, Lady Gaga had to postpone the European leg of her tour due to her illness and spoke about the lack of belief from people online saying:

I use the word 'suffer' not for pity, or attention, and have been disappointed to see people online suggest that I'm being dramatic, making this up, or playing the victim to get out of touring. If you knew me, you would know this couldn't be further from the truth. I'm a fighter. I use the word suffer not only because trauma and chronic pain have changed my life, but because they are keeping me from living a normal life.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper, Olivia and the Beaumonts arrive in Rome... but not everyone is happy to see them

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Lots of Italian and random cultural/historical tidbits in this... but, then again, we are in Italy, so the foreign language aspect will be a bit of a running theme through the next few chapters (sorry...not sorry - I actually learnt some Italian in the process!)

A/N2: @aussiegurl1234, before you ask, yes, I HC that Vito bears a striking resemblance to Michele Morrone 😆

Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

"How is it hotter here than in Cordonia?" I gasp as I step out onto the jet's airstairs.

"Italy is a peninsula," Olivia says from behind me, slotting on a pair of Versace cat-eye shades. "It is more exposed to the anti-cyclones that blow up from the Sahara."

My mouth drops as I make my way down onto the steaming tarmac. "This heatwave... is coming from Africa?"

No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!

"It certainly isn't coming from the Arctic!" bemoans Bertrand as he shields his face from the intensity of the rays with an upraised hand. "Though what a welcome change that would be!"

"Brr...!" objects Maxwell with a shiver. "No thank you! I've had my yearly fill of sub-zero temps at Olivia's!"

"You're welcome," comes the snippy response as the Duchess of Lythikos strides past us.

"That said, turning the mercury down a few notches wouldn't hurt..." I remark, squinting accusatorily up at the beating sun.

"The summer heatwaves have been growing longer and more intense over recent years," Olivia advises from up front, "leading to consequent effects on food and water security, power generation, infrastructure, not to mention the added burden on the healthcare system across Europe. It is one of the items on the agenda for Christian's roundtable with the Italian Prime Minister tomorrow."

I frown as I arrive at the passenger-side door of the first in a trio of waiting Porsche Macan GTS's. "I thought this was supposed to be an engagement tour..."

"It is," she confirms as a black-suited Italian sporting close-cropped hair and aviators opens the door for her. "But any foreign visit involving a high-ranking head of state is — by its nature — a diplomatic event as well."

"I guess that makes sense," I concede, sliding into the relative reprieve offered by the SUV's A/C system. "Though you said Christian is meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow... I thought that was supposed to be today. Did something change?"

"No," derides Bertrand as he settles in next to me. "Today, the King is partaking in a meet-and-greet with the Italian President, followed by a private audience with the Pope while the future Queen is fitted for her wedding trousseau, capped off by dinner and a performance of Tosca at the Teatro dell'Opera in the evening. While tomorrow we have been invited to brunch at the Cordonian Consulate, after which the King has a round-table discussion with the Prime Minister, and day will be closed out by a state gala."

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "So, the Prime Minister isn't the same as the President...?"

"The Prime Minister is the head of government, while the President is the head of state," the elder Beaumont instructs as Maxwell squishes himself into the backseat on the other side of me. "The roles are quite distinct."

"Of course they are..." I huff under my breath.

Seems like in addition to Olivia's list of influential Cordonian nobles, I will also need to memorise a textbook on European constitutional history...

Though, now I am doubly glad of the business-like, but nevertheless stylish pale pink, high-necked pencil dress that Bertrand foisted on me this morning — it definitely would not have been great to show up underdressed to such a high-level meeting!

"But we must hurry!" the elder Beaumont proclaims. "We are due at the Presidential Palace in just under an hour, and we still need to fight our way through the notoriously infernal Roman traffic!"

"Not to worry," Olivia assures us with a sly smirk from the front passenger seat. "Vito here knows all the shortcuts."

"That sounds ominous..." I mutter, reaching for the seatbelt on instinct.

"I prefer 'expeditious'," she counters, turning to Vito, who has now taken up position behind the wheel. "Andiamo."

"Certamente, Duchessa," he nods, throwing the car forward with a violent depression of the gas pedal.

The sudden acceleration yanks an inadvertent gasp from my lips as I'm thrown back in my seat... just like on that afternoon in Ramsford when Drake pulled the same stunt on the Beaumonts' driveway.

I feel my throat tighten as I glance inadvertently out the window. God, I hope he's okay...

I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably making myself anxious for no reason. Drake is an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself... including in close-quarters situations. He's demonstrated that to me plenty of times.

Yet, I still can't help but worry about him. Especially when he's off in a foreign country (all by himself for all I know...), having left with basically no good-bye, and with definitely no assurance of when he expects to get back.

And while I know that he is doing this for me — so we can collar Tariq and extract whatever information he has in relation to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season... and to answer for what he did to me in Applewood — the wait is killing me. I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, and whether he even has his phone turned on, given the high-stakes nature of his self-appointed task.

Which is why I have held off trying to reach out to him (...even though the baser, needier part of me is itching to do exactly that), as I don't want to be the one to interrupt a crucial moment by setting his phone off with an ill-timed call or text, especially considering the three-hour time difference...

I heave a breath.

I just have to trust him. Like he asked me to at every turn of this increasingly bumpy road that we've been travelling since I left New York. And hope that we are finally on our way out of the woods.

Exiting the boundaries of the airport, Vito navigates the Porsche onto a highway where we are able to pick up some speed. Olivia uses the opportunity to open up her phone, throwing some questions in Italian to her associate every so often as we cruise along. Bertrand is similarly occupied, while Maxwell has slipped on some Bose headphones and is bobbing away to the beat.

Which leaves me to stare somewhat aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery roll by in a bid to keep myself distracted.

But the reprieve ends up being somewhat of a welcome one. The various warehouses and road-side auto lots surrounding the airport quickly give way to a tree-lined thoroughfare, and I find myself basking in the calming effects of the greenery, not having expected to encounter such a bucolic sight on the road to a major urban centre.

Eventually, though, the vegetation gives way to the crumbling walls of some kind of expansive estate that we end up following for a good few miles until the asphalt road changes over to cobblestones and we pass in front the gates of a red-bricked stone fortress that looks like it's been plucked straight from the set of Game of Thrones.

"Wow..." I can't help but breathe as I take in the sight of the towering structure simmering under the light of the mid-morning sun.

"Le mura aureliane," advises Vito from up front, catching my awed expression through the rear-view mirror. "Costruita dall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari."

I nod distractedly, craning my neck as we turn a corner to follow the path of the ancient structure that is somehow still standing despite the clear ravages of time and weather.

Nothing lasts like this anymore...

Making another turn, we pass beneath an arched portion of the wall, and the road before us opens up into a leafy boulevard that takes us into the city proper. And from there, it's one jaw-dropping piece of architecture after another jostling for space between more modern buildings and seemingly never-ending rows of trees.

"I didn't expect Rome to be so green..." I admit to no one in particular as I eye up the unusual-looking shrubs.

"You can thank the Ancient Romans," supplies Bertrand without glancing up from his phone. "They planted the now-iconic stone pines in scores along the major roadways in part to serve as ornamentation, and in part to provide a steady supply of pine nuts, which are an essential ingredient in many dishes, including pesto and various pies and tarts."

"It certainly was worth the effort," I agree, watching the evergreens drift past on either side of us.

Though, as Bertrand predicted, the closer we get to the centre of the ancient capital, the increasingly chaotic the traffic becomes, with cars, buses and mopeds all vying for space on the roads, requiring Vito to make recourse to his own horn as well as various offensive gestures in order to narrowly avoid a slew of accidents... and I suddenly have a slightly better appreciation for why Drake drives the way he does. Because based on my experiences first in France and now in Italy, it appears that on the Mediterranean, might equals right when it comes to priority on the road, and unless you're forceful, you ain't getting nowhere.

Managing to finally extricate ourselves from the constraints of a complicated intersection, we end up on a quieter road running parallel to a long patch of bunkered-looking grass on our left.

"What's that?" I ask, tapping Vito on his shoulder.

"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.

My eyes widen. "That's the Circus Maximus?"

"Sì," he nods. "L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corse dei carri."

"Unbelievable..." I murmur, slumping back into my seat in awe.

There is nothing comparable back home — even the oldest still-extant pre-Columbian structures date to only the first millennia A.D. Whereas here we are, casually cruising past a seminal piece of history that is still embedded into the fabric of the city nearly three thousand years after its construction. And we haven't even seen the Colosseum, or the Forum yet!

Rome really is the Eternal City...

Leaving the green fields of the Circus behind us, we enter a more urban-looking environment as we start to climb a hill. The white- and sand-coloured buildings cluster closer together, and the general architecture becomes more uniformly Baroque, until we arrive in a large plaza dominated by a massive, Neo-Classical structure that towers over everything else.

"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.

"Is that where we're having brunch with the President?" I ask, slack-mouthed as I stare up at the imposing building.

It certainly looks impressive enough to house the head of a country!

"Of course not!" admonishes Bertrand. "The Vittoriano is a symbolic collection of monuments built to commemorate the rule of King Victor Emmanuel II and the unification of Italy. The President resides at the Quirinal Palace, which is located on a wholly different Roman hill!"

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.

"Like she is going to know the difference," scoffs Oliva from the front. "They don't even teach The Art of War in her schools... How can you expect her to know anything about Italian history?"

"Italian history is foundational history!" insists Bertrand. "The Romans were instrumental in shaping not just the course of European, but Northern African and Middle Eastern events for millennia! How can they neglect to teach American children about this?"

"Because the focus is on US history," I tell them wearily as Vito navigates us to the other side of the square.

"Surely that is an afternoon's worth of lessons at most?" the elder Beaumont queries sceptically. "Your country was only founded in the conventional sense of the word in the mid-1600s..."

"Most Americans haven't been to Europe," I remind him, watching the rows of buildings flick past on either side of us as we begin the ascent up another hill. "They don't necessarily have a basis of comparison."

"Sounds like your curriculum is somewhat lacking in scope, then..." he surmises with pursed lips.

"Yeah, well..." I retort dryly, "I don't write the textbooks. Though, speaking of education, is there any chance for some sightseeing? It would be a shame to spend two days here and not actually see anything..."

"While I wholeheartedly approve of the sentiment," Bertrand replies, "I am afraid that you will have to make do with the cultural experiences offered by the various host venues on the official itinerary. Which — I admit — are no Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel, but are impressive and important cultural artefacts, nevertheless. The Quirinal Palace, for instance, so named for the Quirinal Hill on which it sits, is actually the sixth largest palace in the world and has served as the primary residence of such notable figures as—"

I let out a low exhale as Bertrand launches into a full-blown historical recital. And while the details are definitely interesting, I didn't come all this way to listen to a one-man rendition of a Roman guidebook.

Which makes me all the more determined to find some kind of opportunity to slip away from the official tour — even if it's just for an hour to toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain — so that I can experience something of the magic that this breathtaking city has to offer.

When, I have no idea, given the busyness of our schedule, but I managed to orchestrate an escape plan to see the capital back in Cordonia, so I'm confident I'll be able to pull something similar... albeit without Drake's help this time. But despite the set-backs, I'm not about to miss out on this kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience...

With my intention firmly set, the car rounds an uphill corner, and we are suddenly on the edge of yet another expansive plaza secured by a rim of strategically placed concrete planters and a pair of police cars.

Vito pulls to a stop and slides the window down to exchange a few quick words with the officer who has come to greet us.

"Passports," instructs Olivia, reaching into her purse.

Opening up the white, Medusa emblazoned Versace clutch sitting on my lap — which I am sure cost more than what I would've ever made in a month working as a waitress back home, but which Bertrand had insisted on as a 'necessary' Italian-themed accessory — I pull out my shiny, new Cordonian passport and pass it to the front.

Maxwell and Bertrand do the same, and there is a couple of minutes of tense silence while the stern-looking officer inspects each document to verify our identities, while another policeman does a circuit 'round the car with a convex safety mirror.

Finally, the policeman hands the passports back with a curt nod, and waves us through.

"Were they not expecting us?" I query as I slot my credentials away again.

"They were," Olivia advises. "But we are arriving separately from the royal delegation, so the State Police are obligated to run a security check."

"Why?"

The Duchess of Lythikos scoffs back at me. "To ensure that we are not terrorists trying to kill the President with a car bomb... Or did that part go over your head?"

"No..." I hit back sarcastically. "I meant why are we arriving separately?"

She looks back at me with an arched brow. "Would you have preferred to deal with the press?"

"I... No," I admit.

She turns back to the front with a smirk. "Didn't think so."

Vito pulls the car to a stop in front of a small courtyard decked out with a red carpet and intertwined streamers made out in the colours of Cordonia's and Italy's flags. Allard and Schweitzer — who had been travelling in the car behind us — appear to open the doors for us.

Bertrand scoots out of the backseat first, before turning back to offer me his hand.

"Thanks," I say with a sincere smile, grasping his fingers to help pull myself up.

"Always my pleasure," he replies with a genuine smile.

Smoothing my skirt, I gaze up at the somewhat understated-looking entranceway, suddenly nervous about the prospect of acting as a newly-minted ambassador of Cordonia. I mean... three months ago, I was bussing tables at a dive bar for less than minimum wage, and now here I am, decked out in clothes that cost more than the rent I was paying for a fifth-storey walk-up, about to have an official meeting with a foreign country's head of state.

To say that I feel like a fraud is a massive understatement.

"What are you waiting for?" asks Olivia, breezing past me with all the confidence of a woman who's done this a hundred times before... probably because she has. "For the grass to grow?"

"I—"

"I heard the President loves chocolate bomboloni," offers Maxwell enthusiastically, linking his arm through mine to tug me down the length of the red carpet.

"What's...that?" I ask, forcing myself to swallow down the sudden dryness in my throat.

Maxwell's face collapses into an aghast look of shock. "Only the best pastry-based dessert! Second only to cronuts, of course!"

"That's definitely a high bar to hit," I admit.

"Think mini doughnuts with gooey chocolate filling, dusted with powdered sugar," he explains. "They literally melt in your mouth!"

"Except we are not here to indulge infantile cravings for sugary treats," reprimands Bertrand as we pass through the arched doorway. "We are here to partake in important discussions relating to matters of state, and t—"

"Pfft," scoffs Olivia. "Speak for yourself, Beaumont. These meetings are dull as shite. I'm here for the sweets."

I can't help but snort at the unexpected riposte... as well as the resultant sight of Bertrand's jaw hitting the parquet flooring. And I unexpectedly find myself feeling better about the whole experience. Because despite whatever nerves I may be feeling, the fact that Olivia and the Beaumonts are with me means that I am not alone in this.

Passing into the coolness of the building, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman who proceeds to lead us through a veritable rabbit warren of ante-rooms and corridors before we finally arrive in an expansive room dominated by a pair of jaw-dropping crystal chandeliers suspended from a vaulted, hand-painted ceiling.

"La Salle Bronzino," informs our guide, indicating that we should step through.

"Wow..." I breathe, trying to take in the opulence with as much composure as I can.

A slew of camera shutters click to life upon our arrival.

Jerking my gaze down from the delicate, celestial fresco above me, I spot the handful of photographers aiming their lenses at me.

I stifle a groan as I plaster a demure smile onto my face. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any reporters."

"This is an official state visit," Bertrand hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Of course, there will be reporters!

"Just not as many as there would have been outside earlier," Olivia assures me.

My shoulders slump in acquiescence. "Take the wins you can get, I guess..."

"Ah, you made it!" exclaims Christian, striding up to us with a jovial grin. "Traffic wasn't too terrible, I hope?"

"Nothing Vito couldn't handle," Olivia assures him, dipping into a chaste curtesy as the photographers snap eagerly away.

Christian turns to me with a good-natured chuckle. "And Lady Harper... First impressions haven't put you off, have they?"

"No," I assure him, bobbing down politely as well, knowing that everyone in the room now has their eyes on us. "The exact opposite, actually."

"Excellent," he beams, holding my gaze for a second longer than he did with Olivia. "I have to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for Rome, myself."

"It really is a—"

"Darling," interjects Madeleine with a steely smile, appearing at her fiancé's shoulder. "You really should focus your attentions on the President. He has been gracious enough to open up his home for us, after all..."

Christian's nostrils flare with the briefest flash of irritation as he pulls back slightly. "Quite. Let us go make the necessary introductions."

Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"

Deftly ignoring her, Christian extends his arm decisively towards an elderly man wearing a sombre suit and gold-rimmed glasses. "Shall we?"

"I guess so?" I concede, already feeling myself being steered past the silently fuming countess.

"Now remember," Bertrand mutters next to me as Christian leads us down the length of the room. "In the context of a formal conversation, it is always lei — never tu — when addressing your counterpart, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not—"

"Singor Presidente," proclaims Christian as he pulls to a stop. "Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione."

The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."

"Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell."

The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.

"Beaumont..." the President frowns. "Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso?"

"Sì," Bertrand confirms. "Egli è nostro padre."

The President is nodding in recollection. "Sì... sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui."

"Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte," Bertrand acknowledges.

"E questa è Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos, un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys."

Olivia holds out her hand. "E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente."

The President drops a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Il piacere è tutto mio."

"E finalmente," concludes Christian, "questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria."

The President's brows arc inquisitively. "Singorina Harper... You are... American? No?"

"Sì," I affirm as I offer my hand out. "Ma ho praticato mio Italiano..."

The President's mouth cracks into a genuine smile. "And you are doing very well, Singorina! Tell me, have you visited la città eterna before?"

"No, this is my first time," I admit, also switching to English, now that the formalities are over and done with. "But even the ride from the airport was utterly magical! It's like stepping into history!"

"Sì," the President affirms with a grin. "Us Romans are unspeakably lucky to be able to call such a beautiful city our home. It is a place of many treasures."

"What is your favourite part of the city?" I ask.

The President blinks in surprise at the unexpected intimacy of the request. "That is a difficult question... But if I am forced to choose... it would have to be this little forno next to la Fontana di Trevi which makes a very unique — and very delicious — pistachio croissant. It is not for every person, but if you have a spirit of adventure, then I suggest you try it."

"Thank you," I say with a sincere smile, filing the suggestion away. "I definitely will!"

"I cannot say that I have had the pleasure of sampling this treat, either," Christian admits, with a knowing glance down at me. "But Lady Harper has excellent taste in pastries — she was actually kind enough to introduce us to an American delicacy called a cronut. It was a big hit all around."

"A cronut?" queries the President. "I cannot say I am familiar..."

"Don't worry," Maxwell assures him with a conspiratorial grin. "We'll bring you one. If you'll trade us some bomboloni in exchange?"

Bertrand's already sunburnt face reddens further. "Maxwell! You cannot entreat the President t—"

"You like bomboloni, also?" interjects the President with keen interest.

"Of course!" Maxwell affirms enthusiastically. "Anyone who doesn't like them clearly has something wrong with them!"

"Sounds like you have excellent taste in pastries as well, Signore Maxwell!" chuckles the President.

The conversation continues to revolve around our shared food interests for a few more minutes, until an aide clears his throat from behind the President.

"Accettare le mie scuse," he apologises. "But I am being advised that it is time for the photographs and the speeches."

"Of course," nods Christian graciously, indicating that the President should lead the way to the front of the room where a small podium has been set up.

As the two men peel away from the group, I cast my eyes 'round the space and spot Hana standing by one of the large windows. Giving her a wave, I use the brief break in the proceedings to make my way over to her.

"So, what's the view like from this side of the room?" I ask by way of greeting.

"Quieter than your side," she admits wryly. "You certainly seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the President!"

"We discovered a shared love for sugary treats," I admit. "You should've joined us — you could've bragged about that baking championship that you won."

"It's alright," she demurs with a blush. "It's actually been nice to take a moment to step away from the crowd."

"Oh?" I ask, laying a concerned hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?"

She heaves a breath, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she says, "I have been fending off suitors."

My brow shoots skywards. "How many proposals have you had?"

"Since I arrived...? Probably twelve..."

My eyes bulge. "Twelve! That's like two a day!"

"Yes," she concedes with a weary exhale. "Lady Madeleine has been extremely gracious in personally introducing me to numerous eligible bachelors—"

"—but none of them are Maxwell," I surmise.

Her eyes flick up to mine before dropping back down sorrowfully. "No. But for the sake of my parents, I must entertain every available option in an honest manner."

"That definitely sounds exhausting..." I concede. "But hopefully now that we're out of the country, you can catch a bit of a break."

"I am not so sure..." she admits. "I have been advised that a number of well-connected Italians will be in attendance at the opera tonight..."

"Pfft...!" I scoff. "Just take the night off... Pretend to be sick... Run off with Maxwell to get some gelato... Actually enjoy being in Italy!"

Hana blushes. "I—"

The chime of a bell rings out across the room, interrupting our conversation.

Looking up, I see that all heads have turned dutifully towards the twin forms standing on the dais as they prepare to address the congregation.

"Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori," greets the President, "È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazione reale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. È passato troppo tempo da—"

As the speech winds on, I find myself tuning out, given that I am only able to understand every third or fourth word. But, not wanting to come across as rude by continuing my catch-up with Hana, I instead try to occupy myself by examining the two large tapestries suspended on the walls.

A round of applause draws me out of my reverie, and I join in on auto-pilot as the President hands off to Christian. Several more minutes of lilting Italian fills the room, during which time I move my attentions to the Roman-looking busts, wondering which emperors they depict.

Finally, the speeches come to a close, and I heave a sigh of relief.

"Did you understand any of that?" I ask Hana as the President presents Christian with some kind of medal, and the two men pose for photos.

"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"

"—have been giving you Italian lessons since before you could talk?" I finish dryly.

Hana's cheeks dimple. "Not quite that young, but yes. I am what they consider 'proficient'."

"Meaning, you speak it better than I speak English," I joke.

She snorts in response. "I wouldn't say that..."

"But it's true," I say with a smirk, happy to see that Hana's time back at court has not completely crushed her sense of humour.

"Ah, I've missed talking to you, Harper," she says with genuine feeling. "The last few days have felt so busy that I feel like we haven't spoken in months!"

"Yeah, tell me about it..." I agree with a huff. "In the space of a week, I've become a Cordonian citizen, been granted a duchy, gone from number five to number one on Madeleine's shit list, and—"

Hana's eyes widen. "It's not that bad, surely...!"

"It's probably worse," I admit. "And being on the front page of the Cordonian Sun — again — is probably not helping matters either..."

"Yes, I saw that article..." she commiserates with feeling. "I'm sorry that the press are treating you in that manner again."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I assure her. "But the press aren't all bad — I managed to convince Ana de Luca to help us track down the photographer who took those pictures of me and Tariq, and she actually came through yesterday."

"That's great!" she enthuses. "I have to admit that I have not had much success on my side... Madeleine does not permit her ladies-in-waiting to handle any of her private correspondence, including her mobile phones and laptop. And she has only talked to us about the upcoming events on the tour..."

"Well, it was a bit of a long-shot, anyway," I concede with a shrug. "But who knows? We might get—"

"Pardon," interrupts Kiara with a pointed cough. "But the Queen requests your presence."

I roll my eyes with a scoff. "She's not married to Christian yet..."

"But she will be soon," she reminds me pointedly. "So, it is actuellement in your interest to remain on her good side, given that you are now a duchess."

I feel the corner of my mouth scrunch into a mou of dissent, but I force myself not to pick apart the many things that are wrong with her statement. "Fine. Where is Her Majesty?"

"Bidding adieu to the President," she advises. "She has asked that in the meantime I gather the ladies who are to accompany her to the wedding boutique."

"Does she really need an entourage to go shopping?" I ask as we start making our way back to the double doors at the far end of the room.

"It is tradition for the suitors who were not picked at the end of the social season to assist the queen-to-be in the preparations for the wedding, including selecting her bridal gown and trousseau."

"Wonder how many times that's gone wrong before..." I mutter under my breath.

"It is a ritual de beaucoup d'importance," Kiara insists seriously. "The former suitors — and their families — demonstrate their public support for the union via the personal assistance they provide the bride and groom in the lead-up to the big day, as well as in the act of taking on key roles during the ceremony itself."

"Let me guess..." I grumble. "We're all going to be maids of honour, too..."

"In Cordonia, the correct term is 'witness'," she corrects. "They are the ones chosen by the couple to countersign the marriage certificate. Mais oui — it is likely that one or two of us will be called upon in such a manner."

"Great..." I sigh, arriving at the entranceway where Penelope and Olivia are already waiting. "All the things we get to look forward to..."

"Oh, Lady Harper!" squeals Penelope in excitement. "I love your dress! How do you always manage to find such super chic pieces?"

"Uhh..." I say, genuinely taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Bertrand picked this, actually..."

Olivia snorts derisively. "You mean Lord Tweedle-Dee? Please... That man has worse fashion sense than Jared Leto."

"Actually, he—"

"If you lot are quite finished with your asinine chit-chit," snaps Madeline as she strides imperiously past us, "you can pick up your feet. We are already running late for my appointment... Which took months to schedule, so don't you dare make me miss it!"

I meet Hana's gaze with a fish-eyed look. "Ever heard the term 'bridezilla' before?"

"No," she admits with a frown. "But it sounds scary..."

"Oh, trust me!" I assure her as we bring up the rear. "It is! Especially since it sounds like Madeleine is planning to take the concept to a whole 'nother level..."

The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

At the airport: Andiamo - Let's go

Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess

En route Lemura aureliane. Costruitadall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari. - The Aurelian Wall. It was constructed by the Emperor Aurelian to defend Rome against barbarians.

Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus

Sì. L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corsedei carri. - Yes. The ancient Roman stadium constructed for chariot racing.

Il Vittoriano - This is a colloquial nickname for the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II

At the Presidential Palace Singor Presidente. Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione. - Mr President. Allow me to introduce some additional members of our delegation.

Certamente - Certainly

Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell. - This is Lord Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, and his brother, Maxwell.

Beaumont... Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso? - Beaumont... You know, that sounds familiar. Are you related to Lord Bartholemy, by chance?

Sì. Egli è nostro padre. - Yes. He is our father.

Sì...sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui. - Yes... Yes... He accompanied the former king on many occasions. You look a lot like him.

Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte. - Yes, there is a notable family resemblance.

E questaè Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos,un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys. - And this is Lady Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, a dear friend of mine, and loyal supporter of the Rys family.

E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente. - My sincere pleasure, Mr President.

Il piacere è tutto mio. - The pleasure is all mine.

E finalmente, questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria. - And finally, this is Lady Harper, the new Duchess of Valtoria.

Sì. Ma hopraticato mio Italiano.* - Yes. But I am practising my Italian. *Italian speakers will note that there is a grammatical mistake here (the correct phrasing is 'Ho praticato il mio italiano'). However, the mistake is deliberate because Harper learnt Italian literally an hour ago, so she's not going to be perfect at it!

La città eterna - the Eternal City (nickname for Rome)

Accettare le mie scuse - [Please] Accept my apologies.

Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori. È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazionereale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. Èpassato troppo tempo da— Your Royal Highness, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour to host the royal delegation of Cordonia, our neighbour and ally for many centuries. It has been far too long since—

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[thethirdromana]

Watson's European tour

Here's where Watson travels in part 1 of The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax. All photos from 1890-1900, so 10-20 years before the story was published:

Lausanne, Switzerland:

Baden-Baden, Germany:

Montpelier, France: