#free wales army

[llyfrenfys]

"Fascism and Welsh Nationalism", or "Stop Fawning over the FWA you cont"

This is inspired by things I've been noticing around Aberystwyth lately while out and about.

Some mfer is putting up Free Welsh Army (FWA) stickers and I have to keep on pulling them down. Why? You ask.

Fascism.

Because of the not so subtle links between the FWA and fascist movements (of which those links are quite frankly underdiscussed) this post is necessary.

So, starting with the stickers:

This is just one of three identical stickers I've pulled down this last week in Aberystwyth. They appear more to be car stickers than anything else and must have cost a pretty penny to print and/or purchase. They appear to have been bought directly from a website using FWA imagery and slogans - yet does not claim to be the FWA (that I can see, at least). I'm not going to link to it because they don't need any more web traffic. But we will get onto why this is significant in a bit.

Anyway, returning to the stickers - I pulled down the first one off of an electric box on North Road, opposite Vaynor St in late November. I pulled down the second (pictured) also in late November on Penglais Road off the bus stop near the hospital. And in early December I pulled down the third one off of a wall near the Spar at the end of Vaynor Street. Right off the bat we can assume the guy who wasted a lot of money on these stickers lives local to where the stickers I've found so far were. So they're lazy, for one - not venturing much further than their own front door by the looks of it.

Iconography:

I've written about the iconography of the FWA before here but it bears repeating that if fascists approve of your iconography, then that's a sign your movement is already overrun with fascists.

This is the sticker design which I've been noticing about town. Top to bottom we have "Cymru Rydd/Free Wales" which on its own is fine. No qualms with that. But between the Welsh and English text is a symbol. This one:

Now, this was the symbol of the Free Wales Army. Note that I say *was* because the FWA doesn't exist any more. Yet various actors have tried to resurrect its very unsuccessful corpse over the years. These stickers seem to belong to a new organisation which is the latest to try and capitalise on the ghost of the FWA. Now, if you're like me, you'll have already noticed this design is, for lack of a better word, a bit dogwhistley. The angled, blocky, swastika-like stylisation of what is supposedly an eagle, the black and white void of any other features and the very fact it *is* an eagle depicted all seem a bit *too* similar to the iconography of the Third Reich, don't you think?

Their design choice is no accident. It is a design which appeals to fascists while also has enough Welsh cultural reference for apologists to hide behind with a plausibly deniable reason for why their eagle Looks Like That. The white eagle is a reference to the 13th C. poem Mab Darogan, in which Myrddin prophesises that "a king shall come with heroism from among the Welsh people" and that "generous men shall be reborn of the lineage of the eagles of Snowdonia". The eagle could have literally been drawn in any way. But it rather specifically was drawn like this. That choice is not accidental.

Now this new organisation which is trying to reanimate the corpse of the FWA (we'll call them EW) has incorporated the FWA symbol into their sticker. An endorsement of the failed so-called 'paramilitary' organisation on their part, to be sure. EW also have included a different style of white eagle on their sticker as well - which is blatantly stolen from Wikipedia (the copyright is expired, but 0/10 artistic effort on their part even so). Also not to nitpick but the eagle on the sticker is grey not white so that's also a fail.

Artistic criticisms aside, the sticker is loaded with dogwhistley iconography all round. The Celtic knot border isn't necessarily problematic, however, fascists and/or neo-nazis love to slap Celtic knots onto things because they associate Celticity with whiteness. The colour scheme may also be a coincidence, but it does remind me of the fascist symbol which is the 'Flag of Kekistan" which uses the same colour scheme.

Why does this matter and who were the FWA?:

The FWA were a Welsh nationalist (supposedly 'paramilitary') outfit which formed in Lampeter in 1963 and disbanded in 1969 (just 6 years of activity). They took a lot of their cues from the IRA and were effectively fanboys of them. The group was never really considered a threat and mostly consisted of middle-aged men playing paramilitary dress-up. They did claim to be funded by the IRA and that they had dogs trained to carry explosives. Their claims remain unproven.

HOWEVER - and here's where things get sticky. A lot of the issues the FWA were publicly concerned with were and are actually valid issues (e.g. the drowning of Capel Celyn, the Aberfan Disaster etc.). The problem is that fascists or fanboys of fascists love to get their foot in the door by addressing genuine issues. But what happens is that invariably a minoritised group is blamed for the existence of said issue and naturally that leads to discrimination and violence.

The police started to get a bit antsy with the investiture of then-prince Charles as prince of Wales and the possibility of the FWA doing some terrorism. So some of the FWA's leaders were arrested just prior to this. The group officially ended in 1969.

The nationalism advocated for by the FWA was of the 'blood-and-soil' type. Not just your common or garden nationalism (which still has issues but given context is perfectly able to exist in a non-fashy way). And that's why the idolisation of the FWA in years since is sus. It appeals to romanticised nationalist notions of brave men in uniforms helping free Wales - when in reality they did little terrorism and little to actually further the Welsh nationalist cause. In fact, the leadership of the FWA fell apart after they started to disagree on whether their actions were damaging the cause rather than helping it.

Julian Cayo-Evans founded the FWA and ran it with Dennis Coslett and Gethin ap Gruffydd. Gruffydd went on to found other youth nationalist organisations after he left the FWA due to disagreements with its direction - e.g. he founded the Patriotic Front in 1964 which was later outlawed by Plaid Cymru in 1966. It goes without saying names like 'Patriotic Front' are deliberate nods to other, similarly named fascist organisations like National Front.

Legacy and The Present:

FWA's only legacy is the sycophantic fanclub which ressurects the corpse of the FWA every few years to parade it around and relive the 'glory days' of paramilitary cosplay. But aside from functionally being useless, their iconography and politics are still very much under the fash umbrella and that must be resisted at every opportunity (hence why I'm tearing down their stickers - I don't want fascists to feel welcome here). Part of why people may turn a blind eye to the FWA/sympathise is that they may not be aware of the history of the FWA or see the dogwhistles laden in their work and symbols. Some may even just assume without any other context that they're just another Welsh-language preservation group and may even support them without realising the deeper nature of the organisation beyond just preserving the Welsh language.

Which brings me back to EW. I'm going to put the rest of this under a cut, I do encourage reading the rest though and reblogging to get the word out that

It is always morally okay to tear down fascist propaganda

If you see some in your town, don't hesitate to let fash know they aren't welcome here.

EW:

So, onto the latest in a long line of paramilitary wannabes who idolise a long-dead organisation from the 60s.

The EW website seems... sketch. Lots of banners and sections asking to 'donate now' and 'take action' (with money). So right off the bat this looks like a cash-grab.

Secondly, from their own 'About' section they claim that the Welsh Independence movement has "become inundated with authoritarian Marxist entryists who regard Welsh independence as merely a vehicle for furthering their own political agendas". Which is pretty bold stuff coming from an organisation trying to do The Exact Same. There's also a LOT of emphasis on youth involvement and youth nationalism.

There's also a lot of ahistorical claims in the About section too. E.g. on the prophecy of Myrddin "From this legend derives the very name of Cymru’s greatest mountains, with ‘Eryri’ meaning the ‘Seat of the Eagles’ in Cymraeg." - this is contested as there is no one agreed upon etymology of Eryri. To claim that this is The Etymology suggests that they picked this one just because it conveniently fits the version of the mythology they're presenting. They also claim that "Owain ap Gruffydd, would adopt three such eagles as his royal coat of arms" - this is blatantly incorrect as Owain ap Gruffydd lived before the Age of Heraldry and the three eagles are actually later attributed arms.

In EW's FAQ there's a section on supporting their organisation - with one paragraph saying that you can buy stickers instead "If you aren’t eligible or willing to commit to becoming an activist". Lol at 'if you aren't willing to fully commit to our FWA fanboy club you can put up some stickers instead'. Also the button to buy stickers suggests you pay via paypal "We’ll accept quick payments using PayPal and will have them shipped to you First Class" - which *totally* sounds legit (what do you bet they ask people to pay via 'friends and family instead of through business means?).

And... that's it. There's very little else on their website. It *looks* like they're trying to be a movement, but appear to lack substance (and money, judging from how many different Donate Now buttons are plastered all over the site). A hollow organisation blatantly bending history and mythology to fit their narrative, proudly using symbols designed to appeal to fascists while asking people to trust them with the future of Wales?

Dim diolch.

For further reading on why we should guard against fascism in Welsh language revival and independence, see my other post here.

Reblogs welcome for an antifascist independent Wales.

[pbr-street-gang]

Byddin Rhyddid Cymru - The Free Wales Army

[the-torchwood-archive]

Torchwood Timeline (April 2024)

This is my canon timeline for the Torchwood TV stories, novels, and audio productions. It's fairly similar to the wiki timeline with a few small tweaks. It's also completely spoiler free, unlike the wiki timeline.

Some entries have firm dates, some have months, some have general decades, so I've tried my hardest to fit them into where I feel they fit. If anyone spots anything that I've missed or sees any glaring problems let me know and I'll try to suss it out. New stories will be added as they are released.

1879:

TV: Tooth And Claw

1885:

Torchwood Cardiff is founded

December 24th 1894:

Audio: The Empire Man

1897:

Audio: Infidel Places

1898:

Audio: Save Our Souls

December 24th 1898:

Audio: The Crown

1899:

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Jack joins Torchwood

May 17th 1899

Audio: The Victorian Age

1908:

Torchwood Glasgow is founded

1915

Audio: What Have I Done

Post TV: COE Day 5 in Jack’s timeline

1940s:

Audio: Curios

Audio: The Dying Room

1953

Norton Folgate projects himself to 2016 for Audio: Ghost Mission

1955:

Norton Folgate is projected to 2009 for Audio: Outbreak

1956-1959:

Audio: Goodbye Piccadilly

Audio: Madam, I’m

Audio: Parasite

Audio: Ashenden

Audio: The Unbegotten

Audio: The Black Knight

1965:

Scenes from TV: Children Of Earth Day Four

First contact with the 456

1970s:

Audio: The Dollhouse

1973:

Audio: Double

Torchwood Los Angeles severs all ties

1978:

Audio: Dead Plates

1980:

Scenes from Prose: Trace Memory

Toshiko’s scenes

1999:

Alex Hopkins kills his team and Jack Harkness becomes head of Torchwood Cardiff

2000-2004:

Audio: Piece Of Mind

Ben Brown hired by Jack Harkness

Suzie Costello hired by Jack Harkness

Ben Brown deceased

2001-2004:

Scenes from Prose: Trace Memory

Owen’s scenes

2004:

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Toshiko’s scenes

Late 2004:

Audio: Blind Summit

Ianto returns to Wales

Audio: Suckers

February 2005:

Ianto is hired by Torchwood London as Junior Researcher

Scenes from Prose: Trace Memory

Ianto’s scenes

26th March 2005:

Audio: One Rule

Ianto is working as Yvonne’s PA

2005:

Audio: The Last Love Song Of Suzie Costello

Audio: Tube Strike

Audio: New Girl

Audio: Through The Ruins

Audio: Uprising

Audio: My Guest Tonight

Audio: Lola

Audio: Less Majesty

Audio: The Law Machines

Audio: 9 To 5

Sebastian Vaughn hired at Torchwood Three

Audio: The Vigil

Late 2005:

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Owen’s scenes

March 2006:

Owen Harper is recruited into Torchwood Cardiff

TV: Aliens Of London

April-September 2006:

Audio: Sync

September 2006:

TV: Boom Town

Jack confines the team to the Hub

29th November 2006:

Audio: Moving Target

2007:

Audio: Wednesdays For Beginners

Audio: Crush

Audio: Retirement Plan

Audio: Locker 15

Autio: The Rockery

February-March 2007:

TV: Doomsday

TV: Army Of Ghosts

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Ianto joins Torchwood Cardiff

Audio: War Chest

February 2007-September 2009:

Audio: Coffee

Scenes take place between TV: Army Of Ghosts and TV: Children Of Earth Day Five

August-November 2007:

TV: Everything Changes

TV: Day One

TV: Ghost Machine

Prose: Another Life

Prose: Slow Decay

TV: Cyberwoman

Audio: Broken

Scenes take place between TV: Cyberwoman and TV: They Keep Killing Suzie

TV: Small Worlds

TV: Countrycide

Audio: The Great Sontaran War

TV: Greeks Baring Gifts

Audio: Restricted Items Archive Entires 031-049

Audio: Instant Karma

Audio: Ex Machina

Audio: Drive

November 2007:

TV: They Keep Killing Suzie

November-December 2007:

Audio: Hidden

TV: Random Shoes

Audio: The Last Beacon

Audio: The Conspiracy

Audio: Fall To Earth

Audio: Uncanny Valley

Early events of Audio: The Office Of Never Was

18th-26th December 2007

TV: Out Of Time

Audio: The Grey Mare

December 2007-Janurary 2008:

Audio: SUV

Audio: Missing Molly

TV: Combat

TV: Captain Jack Harkness

TV: End Of Days

January-May 2008:

Audio: Zone 10

Audio: Lease Of Life

February 2008:

Prose: Kaleidoscope

14th February 2008:

Audio: Dinner And A Show

February-August 2008:

Audio: Sigil

May 2008:

Torchwood goes to Tibet

Jack returns to Cardiff after TYTNW

TV: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

TV: Sleeper

Audio: Serenity

20th June 2008:

TV: To The Last Man

June-July 2008:

Prose: Something In The Water

Audio: Everyone Says Hello

Prose: Trace Memory

TV: Meat

29th June 2008:

Audio: The Lincolnshire Poacher

July-August 2008:

Audio: torchwood_cascade_CDRIP.tor

Audio The Office Of Never Was

Audio: In The Shaodws

TV: Adam

Audio: Tropical Beach Sounds And Other Relaxing Seascapes #4

August 2008:

Prose: The Twilight Streets

August-October 2008:

TV: Reset

TV: Dead Man Walking

TV: A Day In The Death

August-December 2008:

Audio: Corpse Day

Audio: The Hope

Audio: The Three Monkeys

Audio: Gooseberry

31st October 2008:

Prose: Pack Animals

November-December 2008:

TV: Something Borrowed

Prose: Skypoint

TV: From Out Of The Rain

TV: Adrift

Audio: Believe

TV: Fragments

TV: Exit Wounds

Audio: Expectant

Prose: Into The Silence

Audio: Lost Souls

January-February 2009:

Prose: Bay Of The Dead

Prose: The House That Jack Built

Prose: Almost Perfect

Audio: Department X

February 2009:

Audio: Ghost Train

May-September 2009:

Audio: Dissected

Audio: Rhys And Ianto’s Excellent Barbeque

TV: The Stolen Earth

TV: Journey’s End

Audio: The Sin Eaters

Prose: The Wrong Hands

Prose: Virus

Audio: Asylum

Audio: Golden Age

Prose: Consequences

Audio: The Dead Line

Prose: Risk Assessment

Prose: The Undertaker’s Gift

Audio: The Devil And Miss Carew

Audio: Submission

Audio: Outbreak

September 2009:

TV: Children Of Earth Day One

TV: Children Of Earth Day Two

TV: Children Of Earth Day Three

TV: Children Of Earth Day Four

TV: Children Of Earth Day Five

Late 2009:

Prose: Long Time Dead

March 2010:

Audio: House Of The Dead

Events of TV: The End Of Time and Audio: One Enchanted Evening in Jack’s timeline

March-June 2010:

Prose: First Born

June 2010:

Prose: The Men Who Sold The World

October 2010:

Audio: Poppet

18th-21st March 2011:

TV: The New World

22nd March 2011:

TV: Rendition

March-July 2011:

TV: Dead Of Night

TV: Escape To LA

TV: Categories Of Life

TV: The Middle Men

TV: Immortal Sins

TV: End Of The Road

September 2011:

TV: The Gathering

TV: The Blood Line

September-December 2011:

Audio: Army of One

Audio: Fallout

Audio: Red Skies

Audio: Mr Invincible

2012:

Prose: Exodus Code

Audio: Cadoc Point

November-December 2012:

Audio: Dog Hop

Late 2016

Audio: Forgotten Lives

Audio: Visiting Hours

Audio: More Than This

Audio: Ghost Mission

Audio: Made You Look

January-June 2017:

Mr Colchester joins a rebuilt Torchwood

Audio: We Always Get Out Alive

Audio: Night Of The Fendahl

Audio: Smashed

Ng joins Torchwood after this point

Audio: Driving Miss Wells

Audio: Sonny

Audio: Changes Everything

Audio: Aliens & Sex & Chips & Gravy

Audio: Oor

Audio: Superiority Complex

Audio: Love Rat

Audio: A Kill To A View

June 2017-October 2018:

Audio: Zero Hour

Audio: The Empty Hand

Audio: Poker Face

Audio: Tagged

Audio: Escape Room

Audio: Herald Of The Dawn

Audio: Future Pain

2017-2018:

Audio: The Man Who Destroyed Torchwood

Takes place between TV: Superiority Complex and TV: Herald Of The Dawn

October 2018:

Audio: Cardiff Unknown – October 2018

October-December 2018:

Audio: See No Evil

Audio: Night Watch

Audio: Flight 405

Audio: Hostile Environment

Audio: The Green Life

Audio: Sargasso

Audio: Another Man’s Shoes

Audio: Eye Of The Storm

January-March 2019:

Audio: A Mother’s Son

March-August 2019:

Audio: Scrapejane

Audio: Day Zero

Audio: Thoughts And Prayers

Audio: Red Base

Audio: Aliens Next Door

Audio: Colin Alone

August 2019:

Audio: Misty Eyes

2021:

Audio: Goodbye Piccadilly, Audio: Ashenden, and Audio: The Unbegotten for Andy’s POV

Early 2022:

Audio: The Red List

2022:

Audio: Moderation

Audio: Propaganda

Audio: At Her Majesty’s Pleasure

Audio: Cuckoo

Audio: Pariahs

Audio: How I Conquered The World

Audio: The Five People You Kill In Middlesborough

Audio: A Postcard From Mr Colchester

Audio: Death In Venice

February 2023:

Audio: Doomscroll

2023:

Audio: Heistland

Audio: The Apocalypse Starts At 6PM

Audio: Thirst Trap

Audio: Another Postcard From Mr Colchester

Audio: Sabotage

Amendments/Additions:

Feb 2024: Moved Audio: The Vigil from 2007 to 2005

April 2024: Added Audio:Another Postcard From Mr Colchester and Audio: Sabotage to 2023

April 2024: Added Audio: Tube Strike to early 2005

April 2004: Added Audio: Missing Molly to early 2008

[pazzesco]

Queen of Bohemia

Amedeo Modigliani -Jeune Femme (Nina Hamnett) - 1917

Roger Fry - Nina Hamnett avec une guitare - 1917

Nina Hamnett (1890–1956) was a Welsh artist and writer, and an expert on sailors’ chanteys, who became known as the Queen of Bohemia. Flamboyantly unconventional, and openly bisexual, Hamnett once danced nude on a Montparnasse café table just for the “hell of it”. She drank heavily, was sexually promiscuous, and kept numerous lovers and close associations within the artistic community. Very quickly, she became a well-known bohemian personality throughout Paris and modelled for many artists. She went on to have a love affair with Brzeska, and later with Amedeo Modigliani and Roger Fry.

Amedeo Modigliani - Woman with Red Hair (Nina Hamnett) - 1917

Nina Hamnett - Self Portrait - 1913

British painter, designer, and illustrator, famous more for her flamboyant bohemian life than for her work. She was born in Tenby, Wales, the daughter of an army officer, and studied at various art schools in Dublin, London, and finally Paris. On her first night there she met the Italian painter Amedeo Modigliani. He introduced her to Picasso, Serge Dighilev, and Jean Cocteau, and she went to live at the famous artist’s residence of La Ruche which housed many other Bohemian artists and modernist writers. It was there that she met the Norwegian artist Roald Kristian (also known as Edgar de Bergen), whom she married in 1914. She seems to have been relieved when he was deported as an unregistered alien during the First World War; they never saw one another again.

Like other women at the time reveling in a newfound independence, she had her hair cut short in a ‘crophead’ style (what we would now call a basin cut) and she wore eccentric clothing:

"I wore in the daytime a clergyman’s hat, a check coat, and a skirt with red facings … white stockings and men’s dancing pumps and was stared at in the Tottenham Court Road. One had to do something to celebrate one’s freedom and escape from home."

Roger Fry - Nina Hamnett - 1917

Nina Hamnett - "Rupert Doone" - Dancer - 1922

Nina Hamnett - "Dolores" - 1931

From 1913 to 1919 Hamnett worked for Roger Fry's Omega Workshops; Fry (with whom she had a love affair) painted several portraits of her. In the 1920s, she spent much of her time in Paris, where once again she knew many leading figures of the avant-garde, including Jean Cocteau and the composers Satie and Stravinsky.

During the 1920s (and for the rest of her life) she made the area in central London known as Fitzrovia her home and stamping ground. This new locale for arty-Bohemia was centred on the Fitzroy Tavern in Charlotte Street which she frequented along with fellow Welsh artists Augustus John and Dylan Thomas, making occasional excursions across Oxford Street to the Gargoyle Club in Soho.

Nina Hamnett - Illustrated Osbert Sitwell's "The People's Album of London Statues" - 1927

However, she often returned to London for exhibitions of her work, which included portraits, landscapes, interiors, and figure compositions (notably café scenes) in a robust style drawing on various modern influences. In addition to paintings, she made book illustrations (spontaneous pen-and-ink drawings), notably for Osbert Sitwell's The People's Album of London Statues (1928). From the 1930s the quality of her work declined, partly because of the influence of alcohol.

In 1932 she published a volume of memoirs entitled Laughing Torso, which was a best-seller in both the UK and the USA. Following its publication she was sued by Aleister Crowley, whom she had accused of practicing black magic. The ensuing trial caused a sensation which helped sales of the book, and Crowley lost his case.

Hamnett enjoying herself with some new friends

Her success in this instance only fuelled her downward spiral, and she spent the last three decades of her life propping up the bar of the Fitzroy trading anecdotes of her glory years for free drinks. She took little interest in personal hygiene, was incontinent in public, and vomited into her handbag.

Her ending was as spectacular as had been her previous life. Drunk one night she either fell or jumped from the window of her flat and was impaled on the railing spikes below.

[wander-over-the-words]

BioFluff Week 2023 Fic #7

Title: To Breathe Again.

Prompt: Free Day/Family

Summary: The one where Delta and Sinclair reunite in Dionysus Park.

Characters: Subject Delta, Augustus Sinclair, Stanley Poole; mentions of Father Simon Wales, Little Sisters, Eleanor Lamb, Splicers, Big Sisters, Sofia Lamb, Brigid Tenenbaum, Sander Cohen, Mark Meltzer, Andrew Ryan.

Pairing: Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta.

Warnings: firearm usage, blood; mentions of death, kidnapping.

Notes: Final submission for this new BioFluff Week! Here’s an answer to the prompt ‘Free Day’! Have some worried-but-sassy Delta reuniting with his bf. Another victim of technical difficulties (ie. my internet has fuckin sucked lately).

Side note: This acts as a prequel to one of my fics from last year’s event, Keeping the Romance Alive, but it’s whatever, ya don’t have to read this to understand that and vice versa.

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic also available on AO3.

…

The only thing Delta wants - and has wanted ever since getting knocked out of the train by Simon Wales - is to reunite with Augustus.

Well, that’s not necessarily true - he wants to see the Little Sisters into their vents safely, and he wants to make sure his journey to Eleanor isn’t impeded any more by this ‘Father’ who had hit him with a torpedo, but reuniting with Augustus and ensuring his safety is very high on the list.

It’s the reason he doesn’t dawdle in Siren Alley as he usually would, only goes off path when he needs supplies or is searching for the Little Sisters of the area, and even those missions are done as fast as possible. The second Augustus had mentioned the train car he’s stuck in is running out of air, Delta had moved quickly, and he doesn’t slow in the Alley. Splicers are killed with one shot or just thrown aside like they are nothing, the Brutes are stabbed with his drill and blended to avoid having to wrestle with them like down in Pauper’s Drop, he makes do with the minimal amount of ADAM when freeing the Little Sisters, and the Big Sister comes sprinting into an array of traps he’d set, to help fend her off. 

Because Augustus needs him, so Delta marches through Siren Alley with barely a hitch in his step.

If anything happens to my Augustus, Delta had thought as Lamb had taunted him at the beginning of his trek, telling him how loyal Father Wales is to Eleanor, like Delta had given a damn, I may be out of mercy for you, ma’am.

He hadn’t cared about Father Wales’s problem with him, he just wants to get back to Augustus, to see him safe, and then to move on to Eleanor. That’s it.

Predictably, Lamb and her army don’t make it particularly easy for him, but he gets down to the church finally, and then he’s only increasing his speed when Augustus’s voice comes through the radio, panting, sucking in every breath he needs to tell Delta that the pump control is in the back, but Delta will need to be ready before he transfers the suction to Dionysus Park because they only have a small amount of time for Delta to safely get there - and then to not worry about him, because he’ll “hang in there”, even when he’s so audibly struggling.

Well, who cares about Delta’s safety? Because Delta doesn’t, so he sprints down the length of the church, neglecting the corpses with their potentially useful supplies, and uses Father Wales’s key to get into the pump control room. Without hesitation, he flips the switch and, desperate to hear if Augustus is okay, he waves a hand in front of his camera and taps at the lens, trying to get Augustus to talk to him, tell him that everything’s okay. But he can’t, because she speaks first.

Of course, Lamb’s interference only continues - by flooding the fucking place.

Many of her own people killed, just to try and taunt one man; he finds it diabolical. When he sees the Splicers praying as the church starts to fill with water, he almost wants to tap their shoulders, tell them to come with him, but he knows they won’t listen, and there isn’t anything he can do for them anyway. He has no spare suits like his to hand out, and he can’t afford to give his helmet over to someone. He can only hope the ocean kills them quickly.

The only saving grace to his tumultuous trek through the flooding pumping station is that Augustus speaks to him, at last, and sounds like he has enough air to tell Delta to get to Dionysus Park, and then - when things seem at their worst - to “Get outta there, kid!”

He nearly makes it before the Alley floods entirely, but then the bulkhead leading out of the junction between the different halves of the Alley won’t open when he approaches it, and it bends against the force of the water on the other side, then it bursts and water is hitting him hard enough to hurt as he’s thrown off of his feet.

But Tenenbaum had been right when she’d said the ocean can’t harm him in this suit, so he finds his footing and gets moving again, marching through the water and passing by the floating bodies and the shark that briefly stops him, if only because he hasn’t seen one in years. 

Lamb is speaking to him, but he ignores her in favour of walking on, to Dionysus Park. 

He gets through the airlock’s doors, coming into an area of Rapture that is infected with coral, sand, rust and barnacles from its time spent underwater, as Augustus tells him.

“Dionysus Park was owned by Sofia Lamb, chief…sort of a private retreat for her social experiments. One night it flooded - killin’ all her guests. Papers said it was ‘cult-related’. Come on up to the train station, let’s rendezvous.”

Augustus sounds a little tired, but he’s alive, and that’s what Delta cares most about.

(Though, he does take a moment to let himself get all giddy - Augustus is so clever, so knowledgeable.)

Like before, Delta is off like a shot, marching through the remains of Lamb’s home like the whole place means nothing to him - because it doesn’t. 

He runs into more of her army, of course, and a new breed of Splicer, one that teleports and leaves rose petal-like fragments in the air. They try to trap him in the entrance to Dionysus Park, or at least be an annoyance to him - they succeed at only the latter, and while they’re off-putting at first, he handles them as he does any other Splicer.

He has no time for the rest of you - Augustus is waiting for him.

Delta walks on, through Cohen’s Collection (has Augustus mentioned a Cohen? He doesn’t think so) and into the room with the carousel, stopping only briefly when he hears a man shouting about his little girl, gunfire and the screeching of a Big Sister, but when he passes through the doors, the room is empty. He looks for the man, but he can’t find him, and he doubts there’s anything he can do now - he’s sorry, he is, but he has to move on.

Fortunately, a reminder of his own goals comes through then.

“Well, the good news is, I’ve located a new train car. But the station’s still locked down, an’ we’re not alone in here…I see a shadow in the security booth. I’ll lay low while you have a gander.”

Delta lets out a gasp, spine suddenly rigid.

Augustus! Augustus is in danger!

Delta breaks into a sprint then, boots thudding through the wet sand and heart pounding in his chest, a burst of a roar escaping his throat. He hopes Augustus has left the radio on, so that whoever it is might hear him and know better than to go near Augustus - Delta will rip them apart if they do - and he gets halfway around the carousel when -

“Well, hello boys,” comes a voice in his ear, giving Delta pause. “The name’s Stan Poole - Rapture Tribune. Quality paper, heh…before the locals stopped readin’ and started findin’, uh, other uses for it. Anyway, I’m, uh, looking to cut a deal, fellas. Come by the train station, I’m here in the booth.”

Stan Poole. Stanley. Delta knows of him - heard some of his tapes on his journey, including one earlier. Journalist. Worked for Augustus for a time, when it came to dealing with Lamb. 

Augustus had told him a bit about Stanley after Delta had found that first tape of his: “Skilled when his word went ta paper, but workin’ alongside Andy an’ myself? Well. I used ta raise spaniels, kid, and lemme tell ya: there was always one pup of the litter who thought his bark was as nasty as his bite, when really, everybody else knew he was the runt.” 

With that in mind, Delta doesn’t think it necessary to quite panic over Augustus’s safety, but…well, he’s been surprised before, and he has no idea if this Stanley might be spliced and have some sort of power, and so he resumes his quick marching through the park.

As it was in Siren Alley, Delta pays next to no mind to any of the Splicers in his way, hitting them with Electro Bolt and batting them aside with his drill for a one-two punch that kills them quickly. He doesn’t stop for supplies - he’ll get those later. The only stop he makes is when he finds one of Eleanor’s presents: a grenade launcher, of all things. He must ask where she gets such items, once they’re reunited; his fatherly instincts are uncomfortable, knowing his girl has been handling such dangerous equipment.

It comes in handy when he opens the door to the station and finds two Splicers attempting to set up a turret; their failure is almost laughable, but he’s too tense to do anything but fire a grenade directly into the centre of them. 

The turret blows up, sending the Splicers flying in different directions, and he doesn’t know if they were dead before or after their bodies crash down onto the sandy floor. Doesn’t particularly care, either - he’s got bigger concerns.

Now that he’s finally in the station, Delta is back to sprinting, all the way down the station’s floor and up the stairs. He sees Stanley’s silhouette in the window of the security booth, but he pays it no mind as he throws the grenade launcher off of his shoulder, where it lands with a thud down on the platform, and approaches the window of the train. Pressing his hands against it, he tries to peer through the murky glass, but he can’t see anything. 

He knocks once, then lets out a note of whalesong, his designated noise for when he wants Augustus’s attention or when they’ve been separated and Delta’s trying to find him. 

Delta doesn’t know if the glass is opaque with dirt on the other side too or if Augustus was just about to respond because there comes knocking to his right, a fist against glass, and then his radio is whirring in his helmet.

“Hey,” Stanley says. “You forgettin’ someone already? Move over here, pal.”

Annoyed by the distraction, Delta’s fingers curl into fists against the window and he tilts himself just so, looking at Stanley through the limited peripheral vision he has. He growls angrily at the man and sees him look at Delta with fear as he backs away from the booth’s window.

Still, Stanley won’t leave him be until they’ve spoken, clearly, so he begrudgingly leaves the window and goes stomping over to the booth, staring at Stanley silently with his fists squeezed shut.

Stanley is clearly still frightened of him because he hesitates to speak, staring at Delta like Delta will burst through the window and drag Stanley out. When Delta doesn’t do that, Stanley slowly lifts the radio to his mouth.

“Okay. So dead men tell no tales, right? Wrong. See, with ADAM involved, every stiff’s got a story - and Lamb knows how to read it. If that stuff makes it back to her, I’m an obituary. So I want you to take the story of Dionysus Park…and bury it. Get rid of the Little Sisters for me…your way. Do that, and I’ll unlock the station here, heh. Scout’s honour.”

Delta has a feeling this man was never a scout.

He glares at Stanley from beneath his glass, shoulders tense with irritation. 

Is it not bad enough that his love had recently nearly died and that he’s still got a daughter to rescue? That he nearly got washed out into the ocean and couldn’t save a man from being kidnapped? Does he really have the time or patience for Stanley Poole right now?

The answer is no, but he recognises he might not have much of a choice here, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit curious as to why Stanley needs that ADAM so badly.

Still, he would have some choice words for Stanley if he’d had the tongue and vocal cords to speak them with - but any thought on what he’d say is quickly dashed when his attention is snatched away, as there is the sound of the train’s door swishing open behind him.

A little gasp escaping him, Delta straightens in surprise, then whips around to have a look.

“Well,” Augustus says, standing in the doorway to the train car, casting a displeased glare Stanley’s way out of the corner of his eye, “I’d say ‘he’s hiding something’ - but he sort o’ took the fun outta that one.”

He comes sauntering out of the train, out onto the platform, hands on his hips as he turns to face Delta and Stanley properly.

“He’s locked in the security booth, however - so we’ll hafta play along. Let’s go find those Sis -”

In an instant, a yell of whalesong is shot out of Delta’s throat, putting a stop to Augustus’s little quip, and Augustus is doing his own jump of shock, his casual tone and disgruntled expression both dropping as he gawks up at Delta. 

Delta hadn’t even meant to interrupt him or scare him like that, but seeing Augustus standing before him - actually seeing him and knowing that they’re together again, back in the same room, in each other’s presence - has all those feelings of worry and anxiety over Augustus’s condition rushing back to him, accompanied by the sudden relief of seeing his love apparently safe and sound (safe and sound enough, at least, to make a sarcastic comment like that), and it’s all too much for him to stay standing around as he is.

Quick as a flash, Delta spins on his heel and goes running over to Augustus to close the gap between them, arms outstretched towards him, and he doesn’t blame Augustus in the slightest for the way his face pales and the step he takes backwards, the way he holds out a hand to tell Delta to wait; fond of each other as they may be, Delta is still a massive hulk of a man and the kind of creature Augustus has avoided for his entire time in Rapture, so he understands it may be scary, watching one come running for you. 

Much as he wants to sweep Augustus off of his feet and twirl him around bridal-style in his arms, he knows Augustus wouldn’t like that, especially not with how fast Delta is moving - would probably give the poor guy whiplash - so Delta reigns in his desires and puts to work his self-control. 

Instead of picking Augustus up, Delta goes down to his level: he throws himself to his knees in front of him and pulls Augustus into an embrace. 

He perhaps puts a little too much strength into it because Augustus comes stumbling forward and hits his body with a choked “Oof!”, arms awkwardly half-closing around Delta’s body, to both gain purchase and to return his hug. Delta’s holding him close enough and tight enough that his feet are coming off the floor, if only slightly.

It’s hearing Augustus make a noise like that that reminds Delta of what he is: a being who is very capable of squashing Augustus like a grape if he were so inclined, and he is most certainly not inclined, so - with a gasp - he lets up on his hugging. 

He unwinds his arms from around Augustus and takes him by the shoulders; in his frantic worry, he’s accidentally a little too rough again when it comes to pushing Augustus away from him and probably ends up making his head spin, which has him gasping all over again. Guilty, he removes his hands from Augustus’s person altogether and backs off, lest he do anymore damage, but then his earlier panic over Augustus’s health is back full-force and he shuffles forwards on his knees, hands flying at Augustus again.

He uses a finger to rapidly tap at Augustus’s chest, trying to communicate questions in his haste. He doesn’t even wait for answers - he goes grabbing at Augustus’s arms then, one at a time, checking them for wounds and turning Augustus’s hands over in his own, then he grabs at his shoulders again and brings him forward so that Delta can have a look at his face, checking his eyes and the colour of his skin for any lingering signs of suffocation, before he goes back to poking at him.

Delta’s trying to ask if he’s okay, if he needs first aid or pain relief or bandages, Delta can run and get him whatever he needs, and he wants to know if something happened while he was gone, he points towards Stanley to ask if he did something to Augustus or not - but on the outside, Delta’s hands are speedily flying about, poking at Augustus’s body, moving too quickly to be communicating anything but Delta’s mood as he’s too caught up in concern to eloquently think of how to better phrase things with his hands.

Augustus must finally have enough because his hands come up, palms facing Delta to tell him to stop, and he takes a step back to discourage Delta from manhandling him anymore.

“Enough, kid, stop! Just - take it easy now!” he exclaims, which finally gets Delta to stop. 

With Delta no longer pulling him around, Augustus lays a hand over his heart, huffing a breath. 

“You must be seein’ me as a pin cushion, kid, way you were pokin’ holes in me like that,” he says. “Usually, I’d make some sorta speech remindin’ you that I value my personal space, but somethin’ tells me it’s not really needed here, if this really was a moment of madness on your part. Now, what’re you makin’ a meal of, kid?”

Delta thinks it’s obvious, but perhaps his frantic prodding had been even less affective at communication than he’d thought. To drive his point home, Delta forces himself to slow down as he takes Augustus’s shoulder in one hand and uses his other hand to pointedly tap at Augustus’s chest, over his lungs.

Now that Augustus has the time to think, he can finally understand what Delta means, and given what had happened earlier, he doesn’t need very long.

“Ah,” Augustus’s head bobs with understanding, his expression softening and one hand coming up to pat at the back of Delta’s reassuringly, “I see it now. I’m alright, chief. Got all the precious oxygen a fella could ever request, thanks to you. Only thing takin’ my breath away as of late,” he cracks a grin, “was you, jus’ then.”

He’s joking, but reminding Delta of how he’d just carelessly squeezed Augustus like that - so soon after Augustus has nearly suffocated to death - has Delta feeling ashamed, and his body language seizes up oh-so tellingly as he removes his hands from Augustus again and goes shuffling back.

Augustus’s face falls and he holds up a hand.

“Oh, now, don’t let that eat you up, pumpkin. You didn’t mean any harm, an’ I know that.”

Augustus steps forward and reaches out to take Delta’s nervously fiddling hands in his own.

“You just let your worries take over a little, that’s all. Concerned about little ol’ me back here?” 

Delta gives him a noise of confirmation; forgiven as he may be, Delta still feels guilty, so this time, he doesn’t pull Augustus into an embrace, but rather just offers one, holding out his arms for him.

Augustus cocks his head with a smile and a soft “D’aw,” as he accepts Delta’s offer and meets him halfway, pressing his body to Delta’s and wrapping his arms the best he can around the bottom of Delta’s helmet, in lieu of hugging his neck.

It’s now with great care that Delta pulls Augustus back to him. He holds him as gently but as protectively as he dares, one arm crossed over Augustus’s shoulder blades while the other is around his waist. 

It’s times like these that he wishes he wasn’t so big and didn’t have this helmet encasing his head, as he’d be able to lean down and press his head to Augustus’s chest and hear his heartbeat and be encompassed in Augustus’s arms for once instead of Augustus in his (not that he dislikes that - in fact, he very much enjoys being bigger than his partner, he just wishes he had the opportunity to be held). 

That’s something he fantasises about a lot: he and Augustus laying together - on a couch or a bed, it changes with every imagining - with his head on Augustus’s chest, listening to his love’s heartbeat. He can’t wait until that’s possible.

“Oh, but - now,” Augustus says, pulling back from the hug and placing his hands against Delta’s chest, “what about you, kid? Are you alright? I was watchin’ you back in the Alley, I saw you takin’ on those Brutes an’ that Big Sister. Daniel gave you the rigamarole back there, and even the good Padre didn’t make it easy - for a man of the cloth, he gave you one helluva brawl. And then there was that flood…”

He sighs.

“A lesser man would’ve been eaten alive by Rapture after all that, kid. And - lookit, you…”

Augustus looks down at Delta’s suit.

“All you gotta show for it is the parts of the ocean you’re carryin’ around, all soaked ta the bone.”

Delta hadn’t thought of that; he can see where the water from his suit has wetted Augustus’s shirt (fortunately, he appears to have an undershirt on, so nobody will be getting a view of his chest through the wet patches - not that Delta would complain, of course) and goes to move backwards, to stop himself from making it worse, only for Augustus to stop him with hands on his shoulders.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, “don’t you go away, now.”

Delta lets himself be pulled back in, warbling softly as his heart warms at Augustus’s gentle tone.

Augustus pulls his hand off of Delta’s shoulder, only to look down at it, brow furrowed.

Delta follows his gaze and sees the blood smeared over Augustus’s fingers and palm, perfect for painting a handprint. 

Augustus looks at him from under his eyelashes as he carefully asks, “That…doesn’t belong ta you, does it, sport?”

Delta grunts in the negative. His shoulder doesn’t hurt and his ADAM would’ve sealed his wounds anyway - it must belong to one of the Splicers he’s killed on his way here, or maybe several of them.

Augustus bobs his head in a couple of nods as he pulls out his handkerchief from his pocket and tries wiping his hand clean, leaving a faint red hue behind.

“Good,” he says, “then I can forget I ever saw it.”

After cleaning his hand the best he can, he stuffs his handkerchief into his pocket and looks back to Delta’s covered face, smiling.

“Ain’t nothin’ to fret over now, chief. I’m as fit as a fiddle - if a little hungry - and you’re still the top dog walkin’ the halls.”

He rests his hands on Delta’s chest again. 

“Everything’s alright now.”

Delta croons, happy, and gently cups Augustus’s cheeks in his hands, which turns into cupping his whole head and part of his neck, considering Delta’s huge mitts, but Augustus doesn’t seem to mind, so Delta continues with his plan of carefully pressing the top of his porthole to Augustus’s hairline, the closest he can get to touching foreheads with him.

Augustus’s eyes sparkle as he looks at Delta lovingly, his smile stretched wide enough to make a crinkle under his eyes, and he leans in to push his head against Delta’s, eyes closing peacefully. 

They stay like that for a good few, long moments, before Delta’s carefully bringing Augustus back in for another hug, which Augustus gladly reciprocates the best he can, resting his head on Delta’s clean shoulder and breathing out a calm sigh through his nose, eyes still closed.

They keep that way in silence, just basking in the feeling of being together again; neither ever feel safer than now, at each other’s side in this underwater hellhole, the only people outside of Delta’s dear daughter that they can rely on. Their bond’s stronger than anything Rapture can throw at them, they know that for sure, and they’re going to do everything they can to make sure they’re not separated again. 

Delta, in particular, feels as though he can finally breathe again, now that he knows for certain that Augustus is safe. He’ll do anything and everything he can to ensure that he remains that way, now that he’s back in his arms. Delta has a duty to Eleanor, but he chooses to extend his duty to Augustus too; they’re both the loves of his life, if in vastly different ways. 

Delta’s not sure how long they stay like that for, but he knows how it ends: when there comes a knocking behind him, fist against glass, and his radio whirs in his helmet.

“Hate to break up this -” Stanley huffs a derisive laugh, which makes Delta’s blood boil “- gaga fest and all, but you forgettin’ again that you got a job to do? Or don’t you want the train to get movin’? Now, find those little ghouls and make ‘em gone!”

Delta releases and draws back from Augustus with a growl, then whips around to look at Stanley, getting to one knee as he turns, and gives a short burst of a roar in his direction, fists squeezing shut and shoulders hunched, hackles raised.

He’s just come down from the adrenaline rush of panicking over Augustus’s condition and was enjoying his time with him, and this runt thinks he gets to order them around like this, with that tone of voice?

Delta is his own man now - he takes orders from no one.

He rises to his feet, still growling at Stanley warningly, watching Stanley as he scrambles back from the window, wide-eyed and scared.

“Okay, okay! I get it, I get it! You do you, pal - or Sinclair - or - or whatever! Do whatever you want, I can’t stop ya, heh! You wanna keep doin’ that, you go ahead!”

Delta oh-so wishes he could speak so that he can give Stanley a piece of his mind and he’s tempted to try to communicate with him as he does with Augustus, but any attempt he could make is stopped when there’s a hand on his arm and he turns to look at Augustus.

“Hate to agree with a fella like that, honey,” Augustus says, “but he does have a point. We’d better get movin’ on if we wanna find those Little Sisters he’s after, as well as gettin’ you down to young Eleanor.”

Delta sighs, displeased, even as he knows Augustus is right.

Augustus barks a laugh and cocks his head, arching a brow as he takes Delta’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Aw, sugar - we got all the time in the world to cosy up with each other, but later. For now, we’ve gotta get our dear iron horse to gallop.”

Shoulders lifting in excitement, Delta croons; he loves it when he and Augustus are on the same page. 

With a huff, Delta looks back at Stanley, squaring his shoulders again to let Stanley know he’s still annoyed with him. He stares for several long seconds, then gives him a dismissive, scolding huff before he turns away from the window.

He picks up the grenade launcher Eleanor had left him and hoists it up onto his shoulder, and the sight of it has Augustus letting out a long note of a whistle, impressed.

“Now, there’s somethin’ that’ll have folks singin’ out their swansongs,” Augustus says. “Smart idea, chief, takin’ that along.”

Delta doesn’t bother trying to communicate that it was Eleanor who left it for him, just gestures for Augustus to follow as he leads the way down the stairs and towards the station’s gates. 

As they start to leave the station proper, they catch sight of a figure, which has Augustus gasping at his side, but then the figure dissipates into those rose petal-like fragments and there’re invisible footsteps running through the puddles leading out into the park.

“Damn,” Augustus mutters as he pulls his gun from its holster, then looks up at Delta. “Keep those eyes of yours peeled, chief - there’re Houdini Splicers lurkin’ around, the most difficult Splicer ta get a pin in.”

Houdini Splicers, huh? Creative, but Delta doesn’t fear them.

The only thing he fears right now is losing Augustus again, and so he plants his free hand against Augustus’s chest and gently pushes him, to stand behind Delta. Then he shows Augustus his palm and wafts it in the air at him.

Stay behind me. Safe there.

With a smile, Augustus nods and tells him, “Oh, I hear ya, pumpkin, loud an’ clear.”

Delta grunts in place of nodding at him, then straightens the grenade launcher on his shoulder as he steps forward and peers around the direction the Splicer had fled in. He sees no sign of them, so he gestures again for Augustus to follow him.

With that, the two of them venture into Dionysus Park, together.

[rangercorpstherapy]

Au where Halt is in the IRA and Crowley is a representative of the free wales army come to buy some guns

And uh. Pauline is Gerry Adams

x

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Hello! I just read "i go uncrownd" and lost it when Alfred called his gun Rita. That was such a good touch. Do you have weapons headcanons for other characters like that?

Oooooh. Yes, I do. So it's going to range drastically based on the era and the situation, so I’m going to go with the ones that are kind of the most iconic. Rhys and Arthur are longbows. They were, like King Arthur and about half of what is considered proto-typical Englishness, originally Welsh. Their mother taught them both to shoot. The traditional narrative is that during the Norman invasions of Wales, one of the Edwards incorporated the Welsh system of archery into the English army and proceeded to fuck the French right up with it at Crécy and Agincourt later.

Rhys is stocky and better with a sword, so he balanced a bow and a sword for distance and hand-to-hand combat. He likely used a shield and spear before inheriting his mother’s sword, but he never let go of it once it was his. They were long-bladed weapons, with the curves serving to focus the force of the user’s strength into a smaller area for more damage. They were primarily slashing weapons, with some, like the ones shown below, having a point with a strong two-groove blood-tapestry in the center. There was also a trench knife with a background that was supposed to be taken from a medieval Welsh sword but has more or less been disproven, but there are certainly familiar design elements here too!

Pre-Norman Arthur was younger and smaller but more accurate and was more likely to perch himself somewhere defensible and fire as he ran to give himself time to disapear. His bow was his primary weapon and he probably only had a seax to defend himself for anything too close for the bow until he was older. The Seax is where the Saxon’s got their name and was a very important symbol for freemen to carry, with women often depicted wearing them as well. They were part tool, part sword and could be used as something like a one edged machete. The one here was found in the Thames in the 19th century and was probably from 900 something. The ‘broken back’ shape of the sword is part of where I got my headcanon for Arthur still having back pain from the Viking invasions even 1000 years later. This one was probably way to big for Arthur to have been using and there are much smaller ones but I had to use this one lmao. Lives in my head rent-free.

Alasdair always preferred to be at the forge or easel, but where Brighid was usually the head of government, at the foot of their mother's throne, as the firstborn son, he was the acting defender. He was large and did well with a shield and sword, later the broadsword and shield, often wielding the shield with the dirk (Dearg in Scots Gaelic) in the same hand to use if he lost his broad sword. He’s a very tall, broad man, so Claymore isn’t off the table either. He was also very good with an axe. The Scottish version of a poleaxe, the tuagh-chatha, was a semi-moon axe blade on staff and fucking lethal. He could clear a space with that thing, let me tell you. The sword and shield combo is also how he was killed the day their mother died, engaging the Saxons and Jutes who had made it over the bridge before he destroyed it, buying Brighid just enough time to escape across the Irish sea.

[mickeyheartian]

Randomized Fig Tag Game!

I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw it - thanks @mickeysgaymom and @lupeloto for the tags 🩵

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

rules (more or less): use this au generator to assign you an au, this fanfiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.

then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.

AU generator gave me: online dating AU

Fic trope generator gave me: write a modern royalty AU + Torture us with an almost kiss

So I got two good ones with the second generator… let’s see where this goes!

Title: Resolution of Royalty and Aminosity (? I suck at titles)

Plot:

* Mickey is the Prince of Wales, but that isn’t how he grew up. He had his usual south side upbringing, and at 18 was informed he was next in line for the throne. The current king and his queen escort never had kids of their own, but it was later found Mickey was the illigitamate son of the king when he was on tour in the army in his youth.

* He is immediately sent to England to learn his royal duties so he is ready when the current king passes. He’s been living in London for 4 years at this point.

* Ian is in the army, stationed in London. He’s active on the newest dating app (which I can’t think of a name for) and comes across a dark haired boy with piercing blue eyes.

* They begin to message daily, but Mickey doesn’t reveal who he is and his links to the throne, as he knows he isn’t allowed to date outside of his social class.

* Ian doesn’t make the connection himself, but one of his troop mates does as they’re face timing one night - the first time they ever face time. And after Ian hangs up asks him how he knows the prince of Wales.

* Ian keeps his knowledge a secret, not wanting to scare Mickey off.

* After a few months of talking, Mickey agrees to meet Ian. He sneaks off from his security and they meet in a coffee shop.

* They have a cute first date, but when Mickey leans in to kiss Ian, his security have found him, and grab him by the collar dragging him away from the cute redhead he met online

* Ian messages Mickey that evening and Mickey tells him this can’t work, they’re from different worlds. He’s expected to marry a woman of his social class

* Ian keeps trying to message Mickey over the next month. Never getting a reply

* After many messages from Ian, and a talking to from Mandy Mickey messages Ian back. Fuckers can go fuck themselves he didn’t ask to be fucking king anyway

* Mickey keeps sneaking away from his security to meet Ian, but gets caught every time and never gets to actually have that kiss

* Mickey gets called into a royal meeting with the current king and asked what the fuck he’s playing at and does he want to get killed. The importance of being around his security is emphasised. They already don’t like Mickeys upbringing, he never feels like they wanted him there to begin with, only needing an heir to the throne.

* Mickey tells them to go fuck themselves and he can date who he wants

* He’s told the public can never know he’s gay. It would be bad for the crown.

* Mickey storms out of the room and out of the palace, his security following him. Fuck this. He’s sick of being told for his whole life who he’s allowed to like. He meets with Ian in a very public place and kisses him in broad daylight. Can’t keep that a secret

* The king is furious but the public love Mickey

* The palace further try to stop their relationship, but there is public outcry. Why can’t the future king have a boyfriend!!!

* The palace gives in and allows Mickey and Ian to be together

* Final scene: Mickey and Ian several years later at Mickeys coronation. Mickey the king and Ian the king escort

Ahh I had so much fun doing this!!!

Not sure who to tag, if you wanna do this and haven’t been tagged then I’m tagging you!

[horizon-verizon]

Rhaenyra's children have never been legitimised. Even though the king has claimed them as his grandchildren, even though corlys claimed them as velaryons. And even though laenor claimed them as his children. Even though they were claimed in front of multiple witnesses including the entire court, they’re still not legitimised. because they were never acknowledged as bastards in the first place. They have always been claimed as 'true born' children, not as bastards, and of course you can’t legitimise a true born child.

This better be about Fire and Blood, anon. I’m working from the assumption that it is.

I get your point, anon. I’ve both heard it and debated about it myself many times.

You're saying that even though Viserys and Corlys accepted them, by the rules of legitimization and acknowledgment they are and always will be bastards and illegitimate. People would have to have the official revelation for Viserys to publicly legitimize them.

My thing is that:

in real life, what determined a child’s legitimacy in Europe was nebulous right from the start and had to do with property and changed according to the needs of the people involved. In Wales–before the Norman conquest of it and its incorporation into “England” around 1093–had “bastard” meaning a child whose father doesn’t acknowledge them. All children acknowledged had equal legal rights. That included the right to share in the father’s inheritance. The real-life House of Tudor, Elizabeth I’s house, was a house that ruled England after Henry VII took the throne through conquest and after presenting himself as a candidate to those opposed to the Plantagenet York House. The Tudors weren’t a “big” house compared to these houses. And yet it produced notable people…. including Elizabeth I. William the Conqueror was not mocked for having unmarried parents, but specifically for his mother not having a good or illustrious lineage.

In Westeros, riverman Benedict Rivers/Justman/”the Bold” and Orys Baratheon (last one rumored bastard) loyally or dedicatedly lead armies for other lords or lead loyal soldiers themselves, completely negating the idea that bastards are inherently “monstrous” or “treacherous”, which is the bulk of disdain and trepidation for illegitimate people. Benedict Rivers, a bastard born from a Blackwood and a Bracken, became a King over all the riverlords and lead the riverlords into years of prosperity and peace. Orys founded the very house that currently rules Westeros (the irony is not lost on me, but that’s because Robert himself is a fucker and patriarchy).

illegitimacy doesn’t exist as a reality and an independent fact without political context; it must be actively enforced by the active decision of the people around to have any actual true effect

Rhaenyra, as a woman giving birth to children not her husbands’, would be getting a stronger even maybe deadly punishment for something that a man would get off scot free for, and her kids -- through no fault of their own -- would also have their lives taken or ruined. And for what? Something that has no real substance in of itself and is more conviently hidden for power if done right? [go to point #4] -- the further political and personal ramifications are is why the V boys’ parentage will never be admitted....just as her adultery would never be admitted (we don’t know if Book!Rhaneyra did the arrangement with Laenor of HotD)

both women and men have had affairs and lovers for millenia in ancient and medieval cultures....why? Because marriage is about resources and joining families together for power/security, not love or intimacy. And both men and women want love and/or real intimacy, or just horny. This means that there is a higher possibility for there to be "unexposed" "illegitimate" children on either side than you might think or have clear archealogical or otherwise historical evidence for. 

Sometimes affairs and illegitimate kids were tacitly and publicly known already ( @the-king-andthe-lionheart), but if a person were to want to gain something from a princess', noble lady's, queen’s reputation falling or outright removal...then whether or not she actually cheated on her husband or slept with others, they could engineer claims of her “ruination” and “treason” 

Jon Snow. Enough said.

Power is the thing that is really sought for, not moral righteousness. Alicent & Criston both are so out of the loop for this. Bastardy is a societal excuse and invention. It is a tool to be used, to flaunt, to slice others, to hide, etc. How you use it and for what purpose determines your ethical status. Add in circumstance and that will determine whether you will “win” or not.

EDIT: As what la-pheacienne says HERE, Viserys I, Corlys, and Laenor all tacitly/silently accepting Rhaenyra's sons is legally valid, as it is in all legal contexts, so yes they are all legitimate.

Aside from how Viserys and Corlys both voluntarily decide so, never revealing anything.

[skippyv20]

Nottingham Cottage…we get it! She had to live there because she was a WoC. They did not want her living in the palace. She was put in her place…blah, blah, blah!

Nottingham Cottage has previously been home to Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester, and his wife, Princess Alice, Duchess of Gloucester.[8] Upon her retirement in 1948, the house was given for life to Marion Crawford, the former governess of Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret. In gratitude for Crawford's service, Queen Mary, the princesses' grandmother, decorated the house with Victorian furniture and prints of flowers for her. Crawford left the cottage in 1950 in the aftermath of her selling stories about the royal family to newspapers, which was revealed publicly by The Sunday Express editor John Gordon in an attempt to pressure her to provide more stories and articles to him.[4]

The home was subsequently lent to Miles Hunt-Davis, private secretary of the Duke of Edinburgh and his wife Anita.[9] Robert Fellowes, private secretary to Elizabeth II, and his wife Lady Jane Fellowes, the sister of Diana, Princess of Wales, also occupied the cottage.[3]

Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge used Nottingham Cottage as their London residence after their marriage from 2011 to 2013, splitting their time between the cottage and their home on the Bodorgan Estate in Wales.[10] The cottage was redecorated for the couple by interior designer Kelly Hoppen.[10] The Duke and Duchess lived there with their infant son Prince George after his birth, before moving in October 2013 to Apartment 1A in Kensington Palace.[3]

Prince Harry moved into Nottingham Cottage from Clarence House following his brother's departure, with the house referred to as his "bachelor pad" after leaving the army.[3][11][12][13] Harry proposed to Meghan Markle whilst roasting a chicken in the home; they subsequently resided together in the cottage following their engagement.[3][14] In April 2019, the couple moved to Frogmore Cottage before the birth of their first child.[15][16]

Following their wedding, it was reported that Princess Beatrice and her husband Edoardo Mapelli-Mozzi, were to move into the cottage.[17][18]

When there are people that have no home, or losing their home…these two fools are screaming about Nottingham Cottage. They paid no rent….they lived for free. All needs met by the British Taxpayers….and still…not…..good…..enough!

Nottingham Cottage was good enough for the future King and Queen….

[llyfrenfys]

Some really good notes from my post courtesy of @margridarnauds about that person accidentally using a white nationalist slogan to support the Welsh language:

I know someone who is doing a PhD on the Far Right and the co-option of cultural movements and these tags are bang on. Its the difference between a healthy nationalism and an unhealthy nationalism. A lot of this goes for Irish nationalism as well as it does for Welsh nationalism.

There's nothing wrong with (and arguably a lot right with) minority language preservation. It can be used for great good (strengthens community ties, preserves culture) but if co-option is not guarded against readily, it can also be used for great evil (see: using minority language struggles as an argument against immigration, for example).

The Far Right sees the cultural preservation of anything (white) and it's like a bat signal. These things are magnets for white supremacists and assorted fascists of all kinds. Which is why it is so goddamn important to be vigilant against people like that hijacking your movement.

I see a worrying amount of Welsh nationalists use (accidentally or not) the language of the far right to argue for Welsh language preservation. It can be as innocuous as advocating for a Welsh Academie Francaise to as obvious as insinuating that Wales must be kept "ethnically" Welsh in order to keep out foreign influence on the language. I see this go unchecked all the time in various Facebook groups for Welsh independence (most of which I've left since admins of these pages either don't know or don't care that people use their groups to share these sentiments).

Nationalism ≠ Fascism - but if you don't keep an eye on the company you're keeping, any well-meaning nationalist/independence or language preservation movement can be hijacked to promote hate. I only know a scant amount because I was only vaguely considering joining Yes Cymru a few years before they all went sideways (but I remember Owen Exie Hurcum talking about this on Twitter at the time) but the leadership of Yes Cymru began to squeeze out minorities from the group- nonwhite folks, gay people, trans people etc. Whole thing put me off from joining. I don't remember the full details but from the testimonies of others, the group was hijacked and steered into a reactionary way of being. Considering a large amount of Welsh nationalists also idolise groups like the FWA (Free Wales Army - a Welsh nationalist group formed in 1963 which tried to emulate the IRA in Ireland, with little success- mostly just playing paramilitary dress up) - whose symbol is this flag:

Even if the flag itself is based on Welsh folklore and is supposedly an entirely innocent, non fash design- it still is like a beacon to the Far Right who will take any amount of symbolic validation as a cue to join your movement and derail it for their own ends.

Which is why Celtic scholars, people with casual interest in Celtic languages and/or their respective cultures and civic nationalists alike need to be vigilant against those who would co-opt the field for their own twisted hate campaign.

So, one final thought,

Returning to my original post responding to that American chiming into Welsh politics from overseas. Please PLEASE be careful when wading into politics that isn't yours. Where the Far Right are involved, it doesn't take much to cause a dumpster fire - if you aren't 'on the ground' with these issues so to speak, you aren't in the firing line if your comments go sideways and enable/provoke the Far Right in this country.

If you have an interest in Celtic languages, countries and politics- you have a duty to be responsible with what you do and say. This isn't to say that you cannot engage with these topics- but that you should exercise caution lest you accidentally worsen an already delicate situation.

This has been your regularly scheduled Celtic anti-fascist tedtalk. Please reblog to make sure more people become aware of how delicate things can be and how to prevent fascists from getting a foothold in this field. Thank you.

[pbr-street-gang]

Byddin Rhyddid Cymru - Free Wales Army, 1966

[sea-dukes-assistant]

Surely I can’t be the only person who gets pissed off seeing these royals who have never actually served a day in their lives (ex. Cathrine, Princess of Wales) running around in PART- not even all of a military uniform just to satisfy their own egos. As an army brat it 100% pisses me off to the fkn moon!

K, first of all, "army brat" is not an actual rank, so let's take about 20% off there, bud. You have not worn the uniform either, so pot, meet kettle.

Second, cool. Glad your life is that stress free where this is what pisses you off "to the fkn moon." Also, RIP to your blood pressure.

Third, do you have the same righteous indignation when Prince Harry shows up in his Army uniform unshaven? Because that actually is against British Army regulations. Or does he get a pass because "he's Diana's Boy™?" If you're gonna be pissed off at one, you best be pissed off at the other, otherwise it just looks like you've got your head lodged firmly in your ass.

Finally, I'm active duty US Navy with a decade of service, and I can say with a fuckton of confidence that I never once have lost sleep over a royal wearing a uniform, earned or not. I do not understand why you stay pressed about this. Surely you can find something more worthy of your mental energy, such as seeking therapy, or perhaps looking at birbs. Maybe go get laid or have ✨special lady times✨.

Either way, I've worked a 12 hour shift in which I am trying to learn my job here in Bahrain doing important SATCOM shit for the entire 5th Fleet, which is obviously less stressful than a royal showing up in military uniform, and I'd prefer you not use my inbox to dump your negativity, especially since you didn't even offer me a beer first. The audacity.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Nothing that can be said can begin to take away the anguish and the pain of these moments. Grief is the price we pay for love.

- HM Queen Elizabeth II

The terror attacks on September 11, 2001, shook the free world. Americans at home, abroad and their allies mourned the tragic loss of life that day. One of my more senior work colleagues who is American told me that he was in London on 9/11 as a young man fresh out of college and starting out in the world. He told me that for American expats in the United Kingdom, London became the focal point of their grief.

On September 12, Queen Elizabeth II made a personal request that broke a 600-year-old royal tradition. For centuries, the Bands of the Household Division played music during the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace and all the other Royal Palaces and Castles. The music played during the ceremony has always been a rousing mix of traditional British songs and popular music of the day. However, foreign national anthems are played for state visits in honour of foreign dignitaries. In an unprecedented show of solidarity, the Queen requested the playing of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

On September 13, an estimated 5,000 people gathered outside of Buckingham Palace, many of them Americans. The Coldstream Guards, the oldest continuously serving regular regiment in the British Army, conducted the Changing of the Guard. During the ceremony, the Band of the Coldstream Guards played “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Some of the crowd sang along while the American ambassador to Britain, William Farish, stood with his hand over his heart.

Many in the crowd, including my work colleague, waved American flags with tears in their eyes. The band then played a selection of sombre American music including “Hymn to the Fallen” by John Williams, the song from the final credits of Saving Private Ryan. Any irony of the British Household Band playing not only a foreign national anthem outside of a state visit, but a song whose lyrics highlight American perseverance over the British during the War of 1812, was completely overshadowed by the friendship and support shown between the two nations.

The next day, a memorial service for 9/11 victims was held at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, again at the request of the Queen. Over 2,600 people filled the cathedral including the Queen, the Prince of Wales, Prime Minister Tony Blair, former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and Ambassador Farish. At the opening of the service, “The Star-Spangled Banner” was played with the Queen singing along. In addition to the American national anthem, “Battle Hymn of the Republic” was also sung toward the end of the service.

It was after this service the Queen would pen these immortal lines to a wounded nation of grieving Americans who had lost loved ones on that fateful day.

**Photo: a rare photo of HM Queen Elizabeth II displaying visible emotion after the 9/11 commemorative service at St. Paul’s Cathedral, 2001.

[xjulixred45x]

Carmelide/Cameliard Headcanons/4kota

I want to stay up all night and that's why I bring something like a small section where I dropped all my Headcanons and ideas from certain worlds/Fandoms just because, because I can. Opening with the concept of the kingdom of Carmelide/Cameliard from Nanatsu no Taizai or 4KotA.

(besides, I hate information gaps about potentially interesting or little-explored places, so let's go)

I'll take some references from the original King Arthur legends and what little we could take from the series. We'll see.

Cameliard in the Arthurian legends

Both the NNT and 4Kota characters are inspired by the legends of King Arthur and we can even get several spoilers or ideas from these, characters like Meliodas, Ban, Merlin, etc. They are references to their counterparts from the legends.

There is also talk of the kingdoms, but only today we will focus on Carmelide or Cameliard, as you prefer.

The only official information of Cameliard to date in the manga is only that it is the kingdom where Guinevere comes from (the Loli of my nightmares). And nothing else, literally nothing. So let's go directly to the Headcanons

According to Arthurian legends, Cameliard would be located near Wales, that is, quite close to what would be the city of London.

It is a country with little climate change, it is almost always raining or cloudy, there is quite a breeze and it is usually quite cold.

The kingdom's main raw material is its Sorcerers and Wizards, similar to the giants, they lend their best wizards to fight battles for a price.

The wizards in Carmelide have a magical level above the average person, as well as spiritual.

It is a super Catholic country, but I would not say that in a homophobic(?) way, since they accept Adelfopoiesis practices (marriage or ceremony for the union of two people of the same sex).

They have marked gender roles as to what each gender offers to Carmelience society.

The most marked example is in the monarchy, the women who ascend to the throne are vigorously educated in the areas of politics and strategy, they are highly educated and even if they do not reach the throne they are responsible for generating alliances and peace treaties with other women. nations.

Women are given a leadership role in the sense that they are the brain of the population, they are attributed to intelligence, class, elegance and order.

It's a pity that because of this they are not usually trained in the direct offensive area, they are highly guarded.

There is a certain paternalistic governance structure...

Men, on the other hand, are trained from an early age to be able to defend themselves and their brothers or sisters, are mainly instructed in war and physical and mental training for battle.

They are nicknamed the war machines.

They tend to make up most of the armies and velic posts of the court, giving them heavy and bloody jobs.

They have a magical control of another level, the especially strong ones are sent to "lend" to help the kingdom's allies.

The man usually has a more powerful, strong and fierce connotation, they mainly represent the brute force and aggressiveness of the kingdom.

But sadly they are considered very rude for political issues or treaties of any kind.

It tends to be generalized that most men are more brawn than brains.

Due to the mostly cold climates, both royals and citizens tend to be heavily covered, although royals are free to have more revealing clothing ensembles.

The wedding within royalty is usually arranged, but at least they have the offspring to present the fiancés before the engagement to see if they get along.

Lovers are absolutely prohibited, both for kings and queens, they will be considered guilty of adultery.

Despite being a fervently Catholic step, they continue to worship the king/queen, it could be said that they combined the position of Pope and that of the ruler to make it less confusing.

The official language is British English, but the highborn learn French and even Latin.

The kingdom's flag has a red/green dragon on its shield.

Royalty often wears a lot of jewelry like emeralds for men and quartz for girls, though they can be exchanged for rubies and sapphires respectively.

Its architecture is based on the Gothic cathedrals of the Renaissance era, with domes, columns and pediments similar to the Greek ones and a lot of space and care with interior details, the murals telling stories of the creation of the kingdom or the bible are the most frequent.

It is not exactly necessary to be the son or daughter of the king or queen to be considered a prince or princess, it is enough to be a descendant of the same generation as the same, moreover, if the youngest son of the heir to the throne has children before the aforementioned, that child has the right to inherit the throne when his uncle dies, even if he has issue later.

The privilege to the throne is relative in that aspect, basically whoever has children first wins (and no, they are not valid if they are adopted).

Sports such as horse riding, croquet and sport hunting are practiced.

Wow, this was more fun than I thought, maybe I'll do something similar with other animes, what do you think?

[ladybrainrot]

Dyfal donc a dyr y garreg

Tapping persistantly, breaks the stone

Mae chwarae’n troi’n chwerw wrth charae hefo tân

Things turn sour when you play with fire

So basically this is historical hetalia, its a punk poster based on the start of the mining strikes in South Wales 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿.

They started on the 6th of march 1984, and finished on the 3rd of march 1985.

The closing of the mines destroyed communities. The mines were the soul of the community and without them, villages were soulless.

It was a blessing and a curse, parents didn’t need to send their children down the pits to help proved for the family anymore but the village was left without a heart, many where forced to move.

Also his earring is the free wales army flag.

Anyway. Fuck Margret Thatcher, fuck the royal family. Long live Wales 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿 Yma O Hyd