irish team

steve isnt ‘glowing with patriotism’ hes just so pale hes practically reflective
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Last weekend’s feis was definitely the last hurrah for the baby’s itty bitty beginner jumper that I made her for Oireachtas. I had to put a two-inch panel in the back just to make it fit this time! I’ll make another one for her next year- she’ll be old enough for the family special by then. 😄

anonymous asked:

Lottie!!! Do you have any feelings about the accents of various Harry Potter characters?? I would love to hear about it bc I for one am very passionate about Sirius Black occasionally sounding EXTREMELY posh and feeling a bit embarrassed about it

I… have… SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THE ACCENTS OF VARIOUS HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS!!!!!!!!!! 

and by ‘the accents of various Harry Potter characters’ I mean the LACK THEREOF and the Overwhelming amount of Posh Wankers in this series. I MEAN. it winds me up MASSIVELY, and it also opens a can of wooorrrmmmss re: the wizarding population around the British Isles. like… We Need To Talk About Wales. caveat: this is all coming from a Northerner, so as far as I’m concerned the Midlands are in the South, but I’m going to try to be geographical instead of Northern about this.

SO, for those who can’t tell the difference between various UK accents/didn’t realise there were accents in England other than The Benedict Cumberbatch (which, if you’re going from these movies, is understandable), let me break down the film accents for you: McGonagall, Cho Chang and Oliver Wood are Scottish, Seamus Finnegan, Mad-Eye Moody and Luna Lovegood are Irish (Evanna Lynch is from the border region so her accent sounds slightly Northern Irish), Neville Longbottom has a Yorkshire accent (Yorkshire is a county in the North of England), Hagrid is from the West Country (which, despite how it sounds, is The South), and literally every other character sounds like they grew up below the Watford Gap. discounting the ones I’ve just mentioned, everyone else is Generic Southern or straight up Good Old Boy RP (Received Pronunciation, which is like standard BBC English that you hear on the telly/out of the gob of pretty much every HP character). 

(I mean, in fairness, this wasn’t really a Movie decision. in the books the Midlands and the North are just places the Hogwarts Express has to pass through to get to Scotland. Harry is from Surrey, the Weasleys are from Devon, it never really says where Hermione’s from but judging by how her dialogue reads I’m guessing it’s The South, Sirius grew up walking distance from King’s Cross, Godric’s Hollow is in the West Country somewhere, Malfoy Manor is in Wiltshire, and even though the footy team you support doesn’t always indicate where you’re from we’ll ignore that in this case and say that Dean Thomas is from Stratford, East London. and those are just the characters I can remember off the top of my head. that’s a lot of southerners. like, Pureblood wizards seem to be mostly very old aristocracy (I remember reading that the Malfoys came over from France with William the Conquerer in 1066), so you could argue that, like, they all had wizard babies in/around the capital and they’re slowly but surely spreading outwards hence the CLUMP of southern wizards (not to mention they tend to stick together in communities like Ottery St Catchpole and Godric’s Hollow) but a) that is a stupid, reaching theory and I seriously doubt it, and b) even if it WAS true, MUGGLEBORNS EXIST! why aren’t there wizards popping up in, like, Liverpool or Salford or Birmingham? why is EVERYONE so goddamn WELL-SPOKEN???)

I do think about the accents thing a lot. and I get mad about the movies a lot. I mean, Hagrid’s accent reads as Yorkshire. he says ‘summat’! he’s the most Yorkshire thing ever!! and Dean has a Generic Nice Southern accent, not an East London accent! he should sound like Alfie bloody Moon!!! also, considering Godric’s Hollow is in the West Country, DUMBLEDORE SHOULD HAVE HAGRID’S ACCENT!!!!! I JUST DIE OVER THE TERRIBLE ACCENT CHOICES FOR THESE FILMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY WOULD YOU LET MICHAEL ‘I DON’T NEED TO READ THE BOOKS’ GAMBON DO A WEIRD DRUNKEN IRISH LILT WHEN HE COULD HAVE BEEN HAGRIDDING EVERYWHERE!!!!!! (also if Voldemort hadn’t ruined everything and Harry had been raised in Godric’s Hollow he would also have a Hagrid-ish accent. amazing.) AND, according to the HP wiki, Little Hangleton is in the North somewhere, which means Gaunt cottage is in the North somewhere, which means VOLDEMORT IS NORTHERN. LOL. take a moment for that one. let it sink in. Voldemort is my past, present and fookin’ future, innit. 

BUT YEAH. ANYWAY.

so if we’re going by the books there’s literally one Scottish person and one Irish person that we know of at Hogwarts (AND one of them is a teacher, AND I don’t think either of them were ever SPECIFICALLY said to have a Scottish/Irish accent). which begs the question: where the fuck is everyone who isn’t middle class English going to school??? what the hell is going on here???? as far as we know there is one (1) Irish student and this school and no (0) Scottish students. which… is wild. especially because the entire Irish quidditch team must have passed through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts in the preceding 10 years, but suddenly: a dearth. AND THERE’S NO WELSH STUDENTS! WHERE ARE THE WELSH? obviously the Holyhead Harpies are a Welsh team, and the common Welsh Green is a Welsh dragon, and Dai Llewellyn who had a ward in St Mungo’s named after him sounds Welsh, and I’m pretty sure Helga Hufflepuff was from Wales*, SO WHERE ARE THEIR SPROGS AT? 

*IIRC aren’t the four founders all from different countries? I’m sure it’s at least implied by the Sorting Hat at one point. like ‘Gryffindor from wild moor’** = Dartmoor, I assume, as Godric’s Hollow is in the West Country = England, Ravenclaw’s from ‘glen’ = Scotland, I’m sure there are glens in other places but SCOTLAND, Hufflepuff is something something valley? again, valleys are everywhere, but whenever someone says ‘valley’ my brain immediately puts on a Daffyd Thomas voice and goes ‘IN THE VALLEEEEYYYSS’ which it certainly doesn’t do for any other country, so = Wales, and SLYTHERIN = FEN = Ireland has a shitload of bogs and fens and stuff. plus Slytherin is green, Ireland is the Emerald Isle, I’m just REALLY GLAD SLYTHERIN’S IRISH HAHA ÉIRE GO BRÁCH LOSERS 

**FOR THE RECORD the HP wiki told me Godric’s Hollow is in the West Country, and that seems very likely as the North of England doesn’t seem to exist in the HP canon, HOWEVER I PERSONALLY choose to believe that the ‘wild moor’ is in fact THE YORKSHIRE MOORS and that Godric Gryffindor, like Tom Marvolo Riddle, is a top lad innit mate. 

but back to The Absent Welsh: I like to think that maybe they’ve set up their own school. it’s a weekly boarding. everyone speaks Cymraeg. all the Irish and Scottish students go there too because they fucking hate the English. it would certainly explain the lack of Scottish, Irish and Welsh students at Hogwarts. they’re all just getting on with it in Wales somewhere. probably Anglesey. or maybe there are actually wizarding schools that are just normal day schools and Hogwarts is just the famous one because it’s a big, old, prestigious boarding school. considering Harry apparently had his name down since birth… MAYBE HOGWARTS IS THE ETON COLLEGE OF MAGIC! THIS IS MAKING SO MUCH SENSE!!! all the middle class English lot are like ‘oh darling, you simply must go to the Eton College of magic!!’ meanwhile muggleborn Gary ‘Gazza’ Bloggs from the Wirral is like ‘nah mate I’ll just go t’ t’ local like.’

(SPEAKING OF ETON COLLEGE, Justin Finch-Fletchley had his name down for it, which is aaaaabsolutely hilarious. Eton is an independent all-boys boarding school which costs roughly £37,000 ($48,000) per academic year. if Justin hadn’t been a surprise wizard he probably would have gone to Eton, gone to Oxford, joined an elite drinking club, burned money in front of homeless people, rattled a dead pig and then become Prime Minister. but instead of doing all of that he has to go to a PUBLIC SCHOOL with negligible rules, very little uniform, girls, AND he can’t even tell any of his posh little mates about it when he goes home to MUMMY for the VAC. to top it all off he’s gone from being a Good Old Boy Top Shelf Jolly Hockey Sticks Young Chap on the path to upper class glory and the Houses of Parliament to being a MUGGLEBORN HUFFLEPUFF i.e. the bottom of the Wizarding world/Hogwarts food chain. but never mind, eh, he seems pleased enough. bet he has a CORKING accent, what!)

even though my Average Joe Wizard High School idea is definitely not true, I definitely 100% feel like Ireland should have its own wizarding school. the Republic of Ireland’s relationship with The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is so long and arduous that even I, who has an Irish mother, can’t keep it all straight in my head, but basically Ireland is not part of ~the UK~ or ~Great Britain~ even though it is part of the British Isles, so they really need their own school. (tbh I’m low key offending myself by talking about this like they Should have their own school rather than They Have Their Own School, Obviously, but… whatever.) THEY ALSO SHOULD HAVE THEIR OWN MINISTRY OF MAGIC! they might have! we just don’t know! why didn’t Harry make better friends with Seamus!!! UNLESS, of course, wizards don’t trifle themselves with Muggle Affairs and didn’t get involved with the Irish revolution and the Troubles etc. (although considering how the Order of the Phoenix being founded/the war really kicking into high gear coincided with the Winter of Discontent/widespread right wing sympathy across the UK… I doubt it), and so Irish wizards are still being governed from ~Westminster. but again, if that’s the case, WHY ARE NONE OF ‘EM GOIN’ HOGWARTS??????? WHY IS SEAMUS FINNEGAN THE LONE IRISH DIASPORA AT WIZARD SCHOOL???? 

I… literally cannot believe how Away from me this has Gotten. 

accents. okay. 

yes, Sirius Black accidentally being EXTREMELY POSH is something I am very passionate about also. he tries to mask it by being all rebellious and Landaaaannn about everything but fails miserably because every so often he’ll say ‘one’, and when he’s tired or excited he’s just like… the Queen on steds. arrived at Hogwarts fluent in French and passable in Latin. knows how to use so many forks. a prank goes right and he’s like ‘YESSSS TOP SHELF, BOYS! ABSOLUTELY BANG ON!’ James is also posh but posh in the rich, big old farmhouse, Barbour jackets and Hunter wellies way, so he gets away with it because he’s never been to a cotillion and doesn’t sometimes slip and say ‘spiffing’. meanwhile Remus is from the Midlands in my heart (maybe Shropshire)*** and is just very normal and not at all impressed by these posh knobs he has to share a bedroom with. Peter is probably from somewhere with an accent that grates on you after a while, like Birmingham. (no offence @Brummies.) according to the HP wiki (it’s teaching me SO MUCH but literally where tf are they getting this info) Snape is from the Midlands, which means that surely Lily is from the Midlands, because they met when they were playing out as kids!!! this Excites Me! also imagining Snape with a Wolverhampton accent is just… exquisite. 

***I know a lot of people are All About Scottish Remus and while that is second in my heart to Midlands Remus it is certainly In My Heart. 

I love and support Neville Longbottom having a Yorkshire accent because I, too, have a Yorkshire accent, and his in the films means SO MUCH TO ME!! he’s OUR BOY!!! GO ON, LADDDD!!!!!! etc. I really want Lee Jordan to have a Limmy-esque Glaswegian accent, because IMAGINE him doing the quidditch commentary and just getting more and more incomprehensibly Scottish, and McGonagall keeps yelling at him because she can actually understand what he’s saying whereas everyone else can just manage to catch ‘Slytherin’ and ‘cheating’ and ‘10 points’ so they’re just like ‘???!!!!! ! !! ? !!’ also I’m a big fan of Bristolian Lavender Brown, for no other reason than I just thought of her greeting Ron by saying ALRIGHT MY LUVVER and nearly died. 

in conclusion, you could say that I do indeed have feelings about the accents of various Harry Potter characters and I hope you weren’t lying when you said you’d love to hear about it. 

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This is what it is to be a 90s Kid!!

Do You Remember These?

George Weasley x Reader: Gifts

AN: It tisn’t the season but who doesn’t love the holidays? ;) I just want to say thank you for all of your patience! There should be another fic this week as well!

Request: Anonymous

Warnings: N/A

Christmas Eve at the Weasley’s was a magical, truly magical, event. Arthur would chop down a large tree from the forest off of Ottery St. Catchpole, and Charlie and Bill would help him drag it inside. Percy and Mrs. Weasley took great care in stringing the lights and decking the branches with ornaments and glittery tinsel. Bill would pull Ginny on his shoulders and she would place the star on top, while Ron brought out the gifts to place underneath the tree. The twins enchanted a toy train to huff and puff on the rug before the fireplace, and everyone was in high spirits as snow drifted in sheets in the yard.

Y/N had experienced this merriment once before, but it seemed to be just as special the next year. Afterall, she had started dating George on Christmas Eve and she looked forward to their private celebration on the rooftop at midnight. While sometimes she felt out of place, the Weasley’s always made her feel welcome and right at home. The bunch gathered around the supper table - all of the redheads, Hermione, Harry and Y/N included. Mrs. Weasley prepared a very succulent roast ham, as well as whipped potatoes, roasted chestnuts, and a lovely pecan pie. The room was filled with noise, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t filled with cheer.

“It looks delicious, Mrs. Weasley, really.” Y/N said, placing her napkin in her lap.

“Oh, thank you dear.” She replied, sitting down herself. “I do hope I made enough for everyone.”

Arthur Weasley was already three bites into his slice of ham. Always very intrigued with Y/N, for she came from a half muggle family, he started conversation right away.

“What is it that you called the game with the ball on the ground? And the kicking?” He asked, spitting bits of food about. Mrs. Weasley looked disgruntled.

“Football, Mr. Weasley. The Americans call it soccer. They have a world cup every few years, just like Quidditch.” Y/N replied.

“Yeah, dad. Y/N and her family got seats right next to the muggle Prime Minister!” Ron said, excitedly.

Y/N flushed a deep red.

“I-It was an h-honor.” She stammered. “I am grateful for that opportunity.”

Arthur smiled pleasantly, and went back to his food. Catching a knowing glance from Harry, Y/N’s eyes focused on her food. Y/N’s family was very wealthy, in contrast to the Weasley’s. While she knew that neither party had any qualms about the other, she didn’t like to flaunt her wealth. She thought that it was tacky.

“Next month you’re going to see the Weird Sisters in concert aren’t you, Y/N?” Bill asked, excitedly. “Fred said that you’d got backstage passes!”

Y/N almost choked on her potatoes, but swallowed quickly and dabbed at her lip with her napkin. All pairs of eyes at the table were on her.

“Y-Yes.” She said, quietly. “I feel very fortunate.”

Dinner progressed, and Y/N found herself saying very little. She hadn’t found a balance between being ashamed about her wealth and being too haughty. It seemed as though the differences between the families were shockingly obvious. Students at school who were particularly nasty would taunt George about it, and while he put on a brave face, Y/N knew he felt a little embarrassed. Her clothes were always brand new, in comparison to the Weasley’s hand-me-downs. Her potions equipment was bronzed, and her cauldron was top quality. Many of the Weasley children had to share equipment, and Ron’s cauldron was being held together by spell-o-tape.

After their meal was finished, Fred and Harry helped Mr. Weasley clean up the table, and Mrs. Weasley served the pie. Once everyone was full, they all sat by the fire and watched the train whistle. Gradually everyone slipped off to bed, except for George and Y/N.

“I’m almost ready to head out to the roof, I just have to put some finishing touches on your gift.” George said.

He hadn’t said much at dinner, refusing to make eye contact with Y/N after Ron and Bill’s display. He ate his food quietly, and seemed rather jumpy when Fred tried to coax a conversation out of him. Y/N worried she had said something to upset him, and that she had ruined their one-year anniversary. As he scampered up the stairwell, Y/N pulled out her gift to him.

It was wrapped very neatly, in red and white paper. Little holiday sayings littered the wrappings and they were enchanted to glow brightly in the dim lighting. The ribbon was curled expertly, and she had carefully scrawled his name on the tag in her best print: “Georgie <3”. She put it behind her back, and carefully climbed the staircase, ducking out the window to the roof.

George was having a minor nervous breakdown in him and Fred’s room. While Fred was in his underpants, flopped over on the bed and snoring peacefully, George rushed about the room, ruffling paper and craft supplies. He tried his best to dress up the gift, but no matter how hard he tried, it looked pathetic. The package was made of three different wrapping papers, spell-o-tape binding everything together. Multiple different Santa Clauses waved merrily at him, some in sleighs, some carrying sacks, and all bumping into each other from the wrapping job. George winced, hoping that the darkness of the night would work in his favor.

He crawled out onto the pitch of the house, and stopped dead in his tracks. Y/N was sitting, her legs dangling off of the side, and George was completely speechless. The stars looked like they sparkled in her y/h/c hair perfectly, but their shine was lackluster compared to her y/e/c eyes. They glimmered in the night like expensive jewels. When she turned to look at him, she smiled and his heart stopped completely. Y/N was the most fantastic girl in the world and his stomach trembled at what she would think of his gift.

“Georgie, open yours first!” Y/N said, excitedly shoving her package into his lap as soon as he sat down.

He chuckled, trying to relax his nerves, and ran a hand through his wild auburn hair. He held the package between his hands and Y/N snuggled into his arm. His brown eyes danced into half-moons with adoration at his lovely girlfriend. George opened the package very carefully, lifting up the tape in a way that did not rip the parchment. Y/N watched his every move with excitement.

When he finally got the wrapping off, he put the ribbon and paper to the side, saving it because he thought it was beautiful. There was a lump of shockingly green fabric. Curious, he tugged it upwards and the cloth unfurled. It was a jersey from the Irish National Quidditch Team, and for the second time that night he was speechless.

“Y/N… love…” He croaked, once he was able to get a word out.

“Look at the back Georgie!” She squealed with excitement.

He turned it around, and noticed a dark and messy scrawl on a bit of the back. His name was there, written along with a short note and a sloppy signature. George felt as if electricity was surging through his veins. He was so excited and at the same time so reluctant to give his gift to Y/N. She watched him very cautiously with bated breath, afraid that she had shamed him with her extravagant gift.

“It’s… Barry Ryan…” George murmured.

Y/N became limp. Was it the Keeper that he liked or was it one of the Chasers?

“Th-That’s your favorite right? Ryan’s the one you like?” She questioned, wanting to make sure.

“Yeah… he signed it… for me?” George said, exasperated.

“Do you like it?” Y/N asked.

“It’s… so perfect.” George said.

His cheeks were dusted with pink as he brought his gift from behind his back to show her. Y/N did indeed notice the wrapping, but she thought it couldn’t have been more perfect. It showed that George really tried to make it look presentable for her, and that he’d worked so very hard on it. She took it from him carefully, and exercised the same amount of caution that he did while opening it. Y/N placed every scrap of paper in a neat pile by her side, saving them.

Because she thought it was beautiful.

As she tore away piece by piece she slowly uncovered the present that was waiting for her. On the top was fabric as well. She unraveled it to find a beautiful white scarf, made out of very soft material. Below it was a small, leather bound book. The front was painted with wildflowers, and as she thumbed through it, she saw that most of the pages were blank and lined. The first few pages had been written in.

George had written her a love note and pasted in a photograph of the pair. In it, Y/N was sitting on George’s lap, smiling and chattering with their friends. His arms were wrapped around her, and he planted a kiss on her cheek, looking at her as if she was the most entrancing thing in the entire world.

Y/N was confused. Flourish and Blotts didn’t sell journals like this. Their journals were spiral bound, and made of much denser paper.

“Georgie…” Y/N said, softly.

George was ready to rip his hair from his head. She had gone to all of this trouble to get this signed for him and what had he gotten her? A bloody notebook and scarf.

“I know, it’s not much.” George said, pulling her into his lap. “And I’m really, really sorry. I took some odd jobs to try and save for something really nice, but…”

Y/N put her hand over his mouth.

“George, where did you get this notebook?” She asked.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“I, erm.” He seemed to not want to tell her.

She waited patiently, staring down at the cover in her hands.

“I made it.” He said. “I know you love to write. And-and I like to hear your poems and stories. So I bought the leather myself, and I… I… I painted the cover, and bound it as best as I could so nothing would fall out, and I know sometimes you’re timid about starting new things so I put a little note in there to encourage you.”

Y/N was still silent.

“And I know you’ve been eyeing that scarf in the window of Madame Malkin’s for weeks now, and I really hoped that you hadn’t gone in to buy it yet so I asked Madame Malkin to save it for me when I had the money to buy it.”

Y/N was filled to the brim with emotions, and tears started to drip from her eyes. George craned his neck to see what her expression was, and felt like his heart was stomped flat when he saw her crying.

“Oh, Y/N! Shh, shh love, I’m so SO sorry.” He said, hushing her and squeezing her tight. “I’m- I’m,”

“George this is the greatest gift I have ever gotten.” She said, quietly.

He stopped stuttering and held a look of confusion.

“Come again?” He said, blankly.

“No one has ever put this much thought into a gift for me before. George, I can’t believe you bought my favorite scarf, and the- the journal, it’s so wonderful. I love you so much, darling.” Y/N explained, tears of joy dropping wildly from her eyes.

George was so relieved he almost passed out – or passed away. He pulled Y/N back and kissed her firmly on the lips. She laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes, and the two watched the moon sail over the stars as they held each other close.

Thank You For The Music: A Dean x Seamus fic

“Seamus’ voice sounds a lot like the cats that live in Dean’s block of flats; all passionate yowling and an absence of notes known to humankind.”

OR, 4 times a Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan sang, and 1 time a Thomas-Finnigan did.

Dean isn’t sure he’ll ever really get used to being a wizard. For one, there is all the magic that just never seems to have limits, or ends; never seems to stop surprising him, and hopefully never will. For another, never in a million years would alternate universe muggle Dean Thomas be able to go to the World Cup, but here he is, decked head to toe in the Irish team colours, face sore from smiling, and lying on something sharp. It turns out no matter how many extension charms you cast on a tent, it’s is still just a tent, and the only thing between his back and the ground is a bit of fabric, and the ground still has rocks on it.

“SOLDIERS ARE WE, WHOSE LIVES ARE PLEDGED TO IRELAND.”

He is also listening to Seamus sing the Irish national anthem. Or, more accurately, listening to Seamus scream. Apparently the Irish national anthem must be yelled at the top of one’s lungs.

Seamus’ voice sounds a lot like the cats that live in Dean’s block of flats; all passionate yowling and an absence of notes known to humankind. He looks so happy though, head thrown back, face red with effort, that Dean doesn’t have the heart to tease him. Much.

“Mate, what the bloody hell is that? How are you even making those sounds?”

READ MORE @ AO3

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The Falmouth Falcons are a Quidditch team that plays in the British and Irish Quidditch League. The team is based in the town of Falmouth, which is located in the southwest of England.

The Falcons play in robes of dark grey and white with a falcon emblem on the chest. They are known for their fierce and violent style of play. In fact, they are so violent, that the team motto is: Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads. The Broadmoor brothers, Karl and Kevin, who played as Beaters between 1958 and 1969, were suspended on no less than fourteen occasions due to persistent rule-breaking.

Hey Cait and Sam... would love to see those jerseys! 😘

I am sure you have been working super hard today… thank you… but I for one am patiently waiting to see Cait in the Scotland colors. Sam… if you want to wear the luck o the Irish for solidarity sake we would take that too. The Irish womens team did win right?

Xoxo

Watching YouTubers as a 30 year old is turning me into an Irish mummy. I just watch videos like:

“She’ll catch a death in that top.”

“Why doesn’t Zoella learn to cook instead of spending all her money eating out? She could save herself a fortune.”

“He can’t be wearing all those clothes he’s got. What a waste.”

“He doesn’t need that many candles. The house’ll smell awful.”

“That foundation is shite. What is she on about? She’s the colour of sick.”