#*anyone other than jane

[apollos-boyfriend]

sally is a BIG fan of mlp so every once in a while she’ll rope in whoever’s looking after her that day to watch it with her. no one other than nina is really into it at first but after his like second episode jeff becomes absolutely entranced. he is having genuine, deep conversations with this eight year old about equestria’s power scaling and lore

[all-seeing-ifer]

Found a new thing that bothers me about a hole in the world this time which is that they try and do this thing where Fred's insisting she can fight back against her infection and find a solution and she's determined not to be the "damsel in distress" (her words not mine). Which hypothetically I think is actually kind of an interesting character beat like the idea of a character who is so determined to fight and be a survivor and beat this thing bc they've always been able to pull themself through shit before but ends up succumbing to what essentially amounts to a terminal illness they have no way to fight is compelling and emotionally charged. But it just ends up ringing sooooo hollow bc Fred was pretty much always the damsel in distress anyway she never got to be active and solve problems and be a hero in her own right outside of occasional moments like the jasmine arc and other than that she mostly got reduced to a plot device for other people's character arcs.

Like I know I'm being a little hater about it all but I do think there is actually a version of this episode that works as a genuine and compelling tragedy but it would require the show to a) write Fred a lot better before this point and b) imo to develop fred and wesley's relationship outside of them being part of several annoying love triangles and wes being sad bc he thinks fred doesn't like him back. And idk. it's a shame that we couldn't get that

[diana-daphne]

Harriet (former) simp confirmed

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

WHEN NONE OF GALE'S NEW KISSES CLIP WITH XAPH'S HORNS YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

[fideidefenswhore]

What are your thoughts on Jane Boleyn, and the role she supposedly played in the fall of 3 Queens (Anne Boleyn, Anna of Cleves, Katheryn Howard)? Do you think she has been too maligned by historians for centuries, especially when it comes to the relationship with the Boleyns (it seems she got along with Anne)?

Now that I've read both works and compared them side by side, I suppose I would say my stance on Jane Boleyn falls somewhere in between that of Julia Fox and James Taffe ('Somewhere in between' is not, btw, Alison Weir); although closer to the former than the latter. Offering critique of both biographies, I would say that of JF is too apologetic (smoothing out wrinkles that exist in her arguments rather than acknowledging them) and JT is too severe.

Especially when it comes to the relationship with the Boleyns? Yes and no. Obviously she was married to George, she sent him a message of comfort while he was in the Tower, and wore only black the rest of her life, which was quite the potent statement. However, I would allow for the possibility that she potentially, inadvertently implicated him or AB (ie, testimony of hers was twisted to suit the crown's case). This is where I think there are flaws in the arguments of some of her defenders-- they cannot allow for even that possibility and so make claims that disallow it; some of which are untrue. 'Jane was only blamed as a means of absolving Henry in the whitewash of Elizabethan propagandists' is not true. Johannes Sleidan in 1545 claimed that Anne and George died by her 'false accusation'. Sleidan was a Reformer, so he would have been more sympathetic towards the plights of these two than the average person, and would have spoken to others that were as well, but the motivation to vindicate Elizabeth did not yet exist; she was at this point the very unlikely third in line to the throne.

I do appreciate that you said 'got along' with Anne, not 'besties', because...it's possible they were very close, certainly, but we must also allow for the possibility of animosity. The linchpin for the argument of closeness is the report from Chapuys that they 'conspired together' to banish Henry's mistress from court. Was this the precise truth? Considering the source I'm doubtful. Probably there was a lady Henry was serving at this time (although that we never have a name makes the story somewhat suppositious), but did they need to have 'conspired together' against her for Jane to be banished from court (which is what happened instead)? Jane might have merely made Anne aware of her, and Henry finding out that she'd been the source would have been enough for banishment. Or, as was presented plausibly in Adrienne Dillard's fictional rendition, Jane might have dropped hints to Cromwell that this mistress was a supporter of the two exiled and contumacious royal women that were Anne's adversaries, Cromwell might have passed this along to Henry, and Henry might have banished Jane for shattering the illusion that this woman had no independent ambitions or ulterior motives and merely let him hit for the sheer pleasure of his company.

If this was evidence of closeness, and it might be, then we also have to remember that the end result was Jane's banishment from court, and that there is, as JT fairly pointed out, no evidence that any of the Boleyns spoke in her defense, favor, or for her return. It would take an extremely magnanimous person to accept all that with equanimity and not feel any resentment whatsoever. So, if there was intimacy, there might have also been rift.

That leaves the question: enough 'rift' for her to seek vengeance? I doubt that much for all the reasons Fox outlines in her biography, but at the same time I wish there was not this relentless push to only defend women that we assert 'deserve' defense, on the premise they were entirely selfless, accepted every insult with grace, never kept any grudges, never had personal ambitions (the actions she took during the queenships of those you mentioned would suggest otherwise), mixed emotions, or conflicting loyalties; that we could acknowledge that acknowledging the agency of historic women also means acknowledging they were capable of making mistakes.

[pastafossa]

I have two questions:

1. Have you ever considered writing a book that you would want to get published?

2. I wonder if you will explore Matt’s blindness in TRT. Like for example at the end of the day Matt did lose his eyesight and maybe sometimes wished he could see Jane. It doesn’t have to be a big thing because Matt has accepted his disability but like a moment when he’s just really wants it. Idk I thought it would cool

1. I’ve thought about it, yes! And I’ve actually got an (unedited) trilogy of vaguely humorous, post-apocalyptic scifi adventure books that’s like... halfway written, and that I’d love to get published. I was actually in the process of working on Book 1 when Covid hit, and then my writer’s group kinda... collapsed, which is when I promptly discovered that as an extrovert, I desperately need interaction to make The Story go. No interaction, no drive (and that’s also why fic works fine). And sometimes I toy with the idea of starting up again, maybe with a new writer’s group. I’m also looking into taking a lot of the original elements of TRT and then self-publishing that (with some changes to get Disney off my back obvs), which would let me keep the fic up, too. Not sure! I definitely have plans to try to get a book published eventually though!

2. Sometimes I’ve thought about it! I may touch on it eventually, though very, very delicately. Like you said, it wouldn’t be big because I really do think Matt’s accepted he’s blind and he doesn’t see it as a bad thing, and it’s really not. I do admittedly think he probably still gets understandably frustrated at how blatantly inaccessible some things still are (ex: i literally walked by a coffee shop that had a printed piece of paper inside the window in small print that said ‘large print or braille menu accessible on request!’ and I was like... ok but a blind/visually impaired person can’t read that???). Cause that’s the truth of it - he is still blind. He’s got a disability that affects his day to day and even if he’s happy the way he is (or that’s how I read him), he still needs his aids. I’ve tried to make that clear in TRT - Jane’s taken up his labeling system with braille, she leaves things in *very* specific places because Matt’s got an organization system he needs, he uses his ear pieces and refreshable braille display. And yeah, as someone who’s disabled myself, I could see him now and then going... ‘I wish I could see just for a second’ when there’s no solution for something - when he’s touching old pictures of his dad, or now and then when he’s with Jane, in the same way I’m sometimes like, ‘I wish I could literally run somewhere without pain, just to feel the wind’. It’s a passing thought usually, but it’s probably there now and then for him. So the thought’s rattling around in my brain, definitely. If the right moment in fic comes I can see touching on it!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

eddie bracken as orville wingait in summer stock (1950)

[lesbianelphie]

Okay I'll bite. Who is she without her powers michael. Please identify one (1) trait she has that is not "superhero" or "wearing a t-shirt so big it made her look tiny". Is she funny? Is she kind? Is she stubborn? Is she goofy? Is she nerdy? Is she compassionate? Who is she when you're not protecting each other?

[starpros-sunshine]

If I loved Wataei less I might be able to talk about them more....

[clarabow-mp3]

rewatching tennant era doctor who and honestly it's making me reconsider whether i actually like rose

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

It doesn't count as incest if you never knew, right?

Well, maybe if you keep doing it after you find out.

[reserwrekt]

Also on nature documentaries, no one talks enough about Jane Goodall's: When Animals Talk

Which is a documentary exploring the idea that animals may have some sort of telepathy and they can actually see and or hear your thoughts but it needed to be explored more because an emotional bond might have something to do with it and also it probably varies depending on species. She does an experiment where a grey macaw's owner went into another room while opening and looking at a folder of photos they've never seen before, and the macaw was upstairs from them, reciting things pertaining to the images the owner was seeing.

[karmaphone]

.

[bearchived]

beard’s  just.............................so  lonely.

[fideidefenswhore]

The pope waiting it out hoping someone dies is kind of a tell. so many times i hear koa stans go so hard on this, that she was right, morally and legally, every step of the way.and we should shut up accept that and be ashamed she was ever put through this. but when you look at it as the pope sitting on the fence, and not immediately finding for her, it doesn't look as clear as koa stans say. And i find that a much more interesting situation and a relief from the "saint koa" line

I mean, he still treated her abysmally, but yeah, if precedent had actually been followed Henry would have certainly won this case. I almost believe how it was won was ultimately the result of geography; Charles V was simply closer.

This is one of the most infamous and generally misunderstood divorce cases, though, I learned about most of its misconceptions in JF Hadwin's papers about the case. I will post more quotes if there's interest, one example was that bona fides did not apply in England legally although it did on the continent (since often Henry declaring his eldest illegitimate is characterized as merely 'petty' and 'cruel', I think that's actually pretty important).

Also the decree against Henry sort of made Clement look like an ass (well, not exactly, because he died 1st...those that maintained and upheld it, at any rate) because it combined with the others meant that the expectation was that it would be enforced, if not by Henry's own subjects than by another Catholic kingdom. Really the closest this ever came to was Kildare Rebellion and the Pilgrimage of Grace. And although Henry was not officially excommunicated until December 1538, this too was never actually carried out (not even when Edward VI, far more Protestant than Anne Boleyn, was on the throne). Unless we view the excommunication of Elizabeth I as an extension of Henry's to some extent, this expectation was never answered until 1588, and when it finally was, it failed. Little wonder there were so many tones of providentialism and 'triumphal Protestantism' in Whig historiography of Tudor history.

[midnightorchids]

I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting. 

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more. 

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it. 

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself. 

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey. 

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped. 

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

-

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

-

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

-

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

-

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.