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novaiya · 3 years

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Diamonds & Rust Part II - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Part I

Summary: It’s been three years since that fateful night. Three years during which you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now, the fate once again brought the two of you together. Was it for the last time, or was something else bound to happen?

Words: 8k

Warnings: Cheating, F!Reader, Smut

A/N: If you prefer to read this on AO3, click here. This took me two months to write LOL But in the end, I’m very pleased with how it turned out.

Your hand shook as you held the pen above the crisp, spotless paper. You took a deep breath, writing the date, but couldn’t proceed beyond that. You dropped the pen and planted your elbows on the table, hiding your face in your hands.

It’s been three years since you last saw each other. Three years since you were held in his hands and caressed by his lips. The time you shared on that cold, foggy night felt both lightyears and a touch away. You thought it to be a perfect, picturesque ending to your imperfect relationship, like a final scene in a play, but it seemed it was merely an intermission.

After a few moments of rest you wrote, “Dear Arthur” and spilled out the reason for your letter. Few nights ago, your ranch was attacked by a group of local cattle rustlers. Seeing how well your ranch was doing, they wanted their cut, and when you stood your ground, they were less than happy. They left you alone for the moment, but promised to be back in numbers, and that they were. Not a couple of days later, you were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunshots and a fire outside your window. Like they promised, they were back and ready to take what they felt they were entitled to. You watched them take away your cattle and set fire to your barn as your husband hastily packed up your valuables, and not shortly after, you were on your wagon, bound for your mother-in-law’s house, barely escaping the flames and the bullets.

You signed off with your name and an address of where you were staying, and with fleeing hope, posted the letter the next day.

As you patiently awaited Arthur’s reply or an arrival, a curious elephant entered your household that neither you or your husband were ready to address. The woman that your husband knew you as was a kind, gentle woman who’s biggest crime was accidentally buying two gallons of milk and only paying for one. He never saw, or could imagine you carrying a weapon, and for all he knew, you didn’t know how to use one. The woman he saw during the attack, however, he did not know. She skillfully held the shotgun in her hands, dropped the slugs in without even looking and didn’t fall backwards when the recoil hit. She had a fire in her eyes that threatened to overpower the one outside, and for a second, even he, her husband, was afraid of her. Having been born to a simple family in which his mother was gentle and submissive, serving as a pliable partner to his father, he was shocked to see you so strong and hard. He was still deciding what he thought of this discovery of this new you, and during that time, you could feel him drift away.

You didn’t miss the change in him, how he eyed you from the corner of his eyes during dinner time, or the cold space between the two of you when you went to bed. It hurt and it stung and it made you long for Arthur’s arrival so much more. With him, there were no secrets you had to hide. You never went to bed with a fear that one day your facade would fall apart, and he would shriek at seeing the real you. From the beginning, he knew everything there was to know about you, and accepted it. What some would see as character flaws, he simply saw as character traits that made you who you were. With him, you could be you, something that you realized you couldn’t be with your husband. When the two of your married, you hoped that it would put a final nail in the coffin of your past self, but it seemed that your past self refused to die, and your husband shrieked at seeing the dead corpse.

__________________

“There’s a letter for you, Arthur,” said Miss Grimshaw as she passed Arthur who was hitching his horse to a hitching post.

He thanked her and made his way to his tent where an envelope laid on his cot.

“Let’s see,” he said to himself as he tore the envelope open and pulled out a piece of paper. As he read your name on the bottom of the paper, he felt a familiar pang that the thought of you always brought to him. He skimmed through the rest of the letter, plucking the main points as well as your address before shoving the paper in his satchel and making his way to the back of the wagon that served as a wall to his tent. He looked over a map that was there, calculating how long it would take to get to you. Eight hours, he thought, six if he cut on any unnecessary breaks and sleep. He once again made his way around the wagon and went to a chest at the end of his cot, picking out a pair of fresh clothes and other necessary items for the trip. He was doing everything on autopilot, for his mind was too clouded with the thoughts of you to pay attention to what his hands were doing. He remembered your last meeting, and how it opened so many old wounds and created even more new ones. In that moment, when the two of you held each other, whispered love confessions into the silent night, he felt as if he was on cloud nine, but when he left, the blow was just as strong.

When he finished packing, he looked around; Pearson and Abigail were busy chopping vegetables, with little Jack sitting at his mother’s feet. Dutch and Molly were in their tent, talking (arguing would be a better word). The girls were doing chores, with Miss Grimshaw watching over them and correcting their techniques. Most of the men were out on jobs, leaving only Javier standing at guard duty. Even though everyone had free rein to come and go whenever they pleased, Arthur especially, he didn’t want to be asked unnecessary questions, so he waited until Javier was on the other side of the perimeter to mount his horse and ride away to you.

__________________

As you sat at the dining room table of Bertha’s, your mother-in-law, house, you kept praying that Arthur got your letter and found it in himself to help you. You found yourself thinking that maybe it might’ve gotten lost, or perhaps the rain soaked the envelope and the letter to the point it had to be thrown away. With nothing to do but wait, you kept fidgeting with your dress as you sat by the table, only to promptly raise up when you heard the sound of the hoofbeats approach. You pushed the front door open with a smile as hopeful as that of a child, for it to only fall apart when you saw that it was your husband, coming back from a run to the town for provision. The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t say anything, and just kissed your cold cheek as he moved past you into the house.

“You still think he’ll come?” your husband asked one morning as he sat at the dining room table and you washed the dishes. It’s been about a week since you posted the letter, and Arthur still hasn’t come. You were beginning to lose hope, but didn’t show it.

“I’m sure,” you said, not turning away from the dishes in your hands. You told your husband that you knew someone who could help, and when he inquired who it might be, you told him it was a friend from your past life, someone who helped you get back on your feet after you lost your parents. That didn’t satisfy his curiosity, so he pried on. Answering his questions was like walking through a field full of landmines. Every answer had to be calculated, giving just enough information to satisfy his curiosity and not to lead to more questions. At the end of the conversation, you were hopeful that the newfound information you shared would bring you two back together, but in fact, it did the opposite, and he felt that there was even more he didn’t know about you.

As you washed the dishes, you looked through the window in front of you and felt thunder run through your entire being. You could never mistaken that mare for anyone else, with her unique coat and her silky locks; it was Boadicea, and with her, someone else you could never mistaken; Arthur. You watched him through the dirty kitchen window as he hitched Boadicea to a tree nearby and made his way to the house in strong, long strides. You dropped the dishes back into the sink with a splash and ran to the door, opening it as Arthur was about to knock.

“Arthur,” you said with a smile that lit up your whole face.

He could feel his heartbeat all over his body as he was met with your face. Your smile made your entire face glow, and he could see sparkles in your eyes as you looked at him. Knowing that he was the reason for your reaction, he could feel the familiar haze of feelings cloud his entire being.

He spoke your name in return, his voice enveloping each syllable with affection and tenderness that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, and which your husband could hear from where he sat at a dining room table.

The two of you stood at the threshold for a brief moment, caught up in each other’s eyes and closeness. You fought the urge to embrace him, to kiss him and to tell him how much you missed him, and he did the same. Instead, you moved away and motioned for him to get inside. As he did so, he almost instantly met eyes with your husband, who rose up from his seat to greet the man.

“Roy Dorset,” your husband said as he extended his hand.

“Arthur Morgan.”

As you watched, the two men shared an awkward, silent handshake, during which you had a chance to compare and contrast the two of them. You certainly had a type, you though, as you looked at the men before you, both of them tall and handsome. There were, however, noticeable distinctions that differentiated them, and served as a representation of the person you were with each of them. Roy, being a part time rancher and a part time bookkeeper for a general store in your town, was dressed as a man about town with carefully ironed pants, clean shirt and a vest with all the buttons attached. He was a proper god-fearing, law-abiding man who had traditional standards for people, some of which you sometimes felt you couldn’t reach yourself.

Arthur, in contrast, was dressed haphazardly, wearing old, patched jeans, boots that have seen better days and a shirt that has clearly been washed many times over. By his look, you could tell Arthur didn’t care what others thought of him. He wore - and did - what he wanted, without a care for other people’s opinion. He didn’t hide himself behind anything, and that’s what you wished you could do now.

After a moment of pleasantries, the three of you sat at the dining room table to discuss the matter at hand. You sat at the head of the table, with Roy to your left and Arthur to your right. You and Roy explained what happened at the ranch, adding details that you forgot to write about in the letter. At some point as the three of you talked,

your daughter came up to the table. With her grandmother asleep and all of her toys left at home, she had nothing to do, so she decided to join you.

You hoisted her up to your lap and let her stay with you as you continued talking.

Despite the conversation still going, Arthur lost all attention as soon as he saw your daughter. What shocked him first was that you had a daughter in the first place, but what shocked him even more was how little the girl looked like your husband. While still trying to seem as he was listening, Arthur inconspicuously kept looking between your daughter and your husband. While Roy had dark, brown hair, the little girl in your lap had light, dirty blonde locks. Her eyes, which were traveling all over the room, looking for something to busy herself with, were a whirlpool of green and blue, while Roy’s, which at the moment were looking down on his lap, were a dull, brown shade. Suddenly, realization hit Arthur. He started to think back on your last encounter. Could it be? He tried to figure out how old the child was, and tried to remember the time of the year when the two of you were together. He could feel himself getting lightheaded as all the thoughts filled his mind, making him not hear his own name being called.

“Arthur,” you said once again when he didn’t answer you the first time. As if being pulled out from a dream, he looked around, suddenly forgetting where he was.

“I said, what do you think about the plan?” you said, looking at Arthur at the same time as the girl in your lap.

Arthur could feel all the eyes on him, and a color painted his face. He could faintly remember what you talked about a moment ago. Something about the best path to take back to the ranch, how dangerous the road might be with wolves roaming around. After a moment of pause, he returned with, “Sounds good to me,” and the conversation went on, with Arthur still barely paying attention.

_________________

You carefully slipped out of the covers, trying not to wake your husband up, before walking across the room on your tiptoes, opening the door and leaving the room. You couldn’t sleep. With Arthur’s proximity, you found yourself laying in bed with the thoughts of him. You tried to squash those pesky thoughts, turned from one side to the other in your bed as you kept telling yourself that you couldn’t, shouldn’t do it despite how much you wanted to. As you looked at your husband, his face illuminated by the light from the moon outside, you thought of doing to him what you did to Arthur all those years ago. You left Arthur for a search for a better, calmer and stable life, and now you want to leave that life to go back to Arthur.

You leaned against the kitchen counter as you poured yourself a glass of whiskey, looking out of the window into the world outside. With it being late fall, some trees have already shed their leaves, leaving once bushy woods stripped. You could see birds, once hidden from the prying eyes by the leaves now on full display on the branches. They were close enough that you could hear them sing, but not enough to understand what it is they were saying.

Suddenly, you heard the wood planks squeak behind you and smiled.

“Can’t sleep either?” you said without turning around.

“No,” Arthur replied as he went to stand next to you.

Without another word you took a shot glass and poured him one.

“Thank you for coming,” you said as you gave him the glass. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“‘Course I would,” he said before swinging back the shot.

At finally having a moment alone with him, you were fighting back the urge to spill everything that’s been on your mind, to ask every question and tell every answer that you’ve been holding for the past three years and for the past few hours that he’s been here. You decided it’s best to start off slowly.

“How have you been? How’s the gang?”

“Fine, I guess,” he said as he turned around to lean against the counter, crossing his hand on his chest. “Picked up a few people along the way. The gang’s twice its size now.”

You nodded at his answer.

“Seems you’ve had an addition too.”

The statement made heat rise to your face, and you swallowed down, nodding again.

“What’s her name?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Lily.”

“Beautiful name,” he said. “How old is she?”

“Three,” you said, knowing very well where this was going.

“Is she mine?” His voice was calm and reticent despite the fact that his mind was racing so fast he thought he was going to faint no matter what your answer was.

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his question wash over you. The question that was lingering in the air since the moment your daughter was born, and that only became stronger when Arthur came today, was finally asked. To your own surprise, you felt yourself relax after a few seconds had passed. With the question being finally asked, you could feel the weight of it lifted from your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you said, turning your head away

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he returned, somewhat exasperated.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you repeated, your voice more stern, but still hushed as to not wake anyone up. “I don’t know.” You lowered your head before speaking again. “I don’t know. Roy and I were trying during that time.”

You held yourself in your hands, your head hanging low. About three years ago, Roy and you have been trying for months to get pregnant. Nothing was happening, until suddenly, it did. Roy was overjoyed, feeling that Isis has finally shined her light on the two of you. You, however, knew it took more than an Egyptian goddess of fertility to bring you to the situation at hand. Right away, you did the math, and despite how much you tried to tell yourself that the days could be a little bit off, the numbers didn’t lie. It only became more apartment when your daughter was born; within a few days, you could see traces of him in her; her light hair, her blue eyes. Even her lips and nose looked like his. She was a visual reminder, everyday, of what you and Arthur could have had.

“She looks like me, you know,” Arthur said, walking around to stand in front of you, his proximity making your heartbeat quicken like it always did.

“I know,” you said, your voice barely audible.

“What if she’s mine?”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your head low and your eyes focused on the ground until you felt his hand, soft and warm on your cheek, making you look up.

You felt enveloped in his love as you looked into his eyes. They were kind and inviting as he looked at you, and without saying anything, they offered shelter from all the worries of life.

His thumb traced your lower lip and you involuntarily opened your mouth, gasping. He stepped a little bit closer, pushing you against the counter with his body, making you feel all of him against you, the thin material of his union suit not leaving an inch of space between the two of you.

“I missed you,” he said.

He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a chance to slip away if you so desired to. You didn’t, waving your hands in his hair and bringing him closer instead, deepening the kiss. You hated yourself for not being stronger, for not resisting your inner desires. You hated how with just a touch, he had you under his control. His hands ran down your sides, following your curves from your chest over your waist and to your hips, stopping there. One of your hands reached out to touch his cheek, feeling a light stubble there (he went to you right away after finishing a mission, not having a chance to even shave) You remembered the night the two of you shared three years ago, how the feeling of his lips lingered on your for months after.

You wanted to get lost in the kiss, in him, but suddenly, a voice coming from the stairs pulled you out of your reverie, and the two of you broke apart as fast as you came together. You were slightly panting, both from the kiss and from the rush of anxiety at being caught. You looked up at the stairs from where the voice came, and after a few moments, two small feet came into the light, padding barefoot down the stairs.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” you said as you kneeled down to look at your daughter.

One of her hands held onto the arm of her stuffed bear, a friend who kept her company at night, while the other brushed the sleep out of her eyes, trying to stay awake long enough to talk to you. “Grandma’s snoring,” she drew before yawning.

You smiled, ruffling her blonde locks a bit before saying, “Well, you can sleep with daddy and me tonight then.”

Arthur stood a few feet away, watching the two of you without saying a word. He could feel resentment bubbling in him at your husband, and at the same time, himself. Despite how much he wanted to put all the blame on Roy (for “stealing” you), he realized that the only person he had to blame was himself. If he wasn’t so stupid all those years ago, if he just took your hand and let you lead him out of the outlaw life, this - a life with a house, a daughter and you as his wife - could’ve all been his. “Darlin’, right now ain’t a good time,” he would say when you would press him about finally making your escape. “We need more money if we wanna start on our own” would be another of his excuses. Truth be told, as much as he wanted to start a fresh, new life with you, he was afraid. Outlaw life was everything he’d ever known. He was raised and became the man he was today in it. He was terrified that out there, in the world of law and order, in which one woke up in the morning to start a day of work, and had proper suppers at the table with their family, he wouldn’t survive.

The sound of Lily’s voice, calling for him, pulled him out of his thoughts. Her clear, blue eyes, looked up at him as she asked him if he was her mother’s friend. You turned around to look at Arthur, and after a few seconds he said, “Yeah, I am. Something like that.” She smiled in return, calmed at knowing that the strange, big man was not a stranger at all but a friend. As you picked her up, ready to take her to bed, she introduced herself to Arthur, and asked him what his name was. He introduced himself, and in return, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Arthur.” You didn’t know why, but at seeing the scene play out, you could feel tears well up in your eyes. It could’ve all been so different, you thought. The three of you were so close at being a family, practically looked like one right now. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down before murmuring that it’s already too late, and walking over to your bedroom door with your daughter in your hands. You stopped at the door for a second, fumbling with the door knob. Arthur watched your back as you stood, your daughter’s head peeking from behind your shoulder, before you turned the knob and disappeared into the room.

He stood in the dark, empty dining room for a few more minutes, going over the scene that just unfolded a million times. He could feel the weight of everything crushing him down, breaking his bones and turning them into dust. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, shaking his head.

“Idiot,” he said to himself before taking the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another shot.

______________

The sound of birds singing outside accompanied you as you woke up. It was still early and no one was up yet, so you got ready without any hurry before going into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Not a while later, Bertha joined you in the kitchen, and the two of you had everything ready right as the men came to take their seats at the table.

You kept quiet as you ate breakfast, with Arthur sitting across from you, Lily next to him, and Roy next to you. Bertha, being the kind host that she was, something that she got used to from the years of marriage to an army Sergeant, couldn’t sit still and continued to check up on everybody, pouring coffee even when the cups were halfway full and making sure there were no empty plates on the table. It was only when Roy said, “Enough, mother” did she take a seat at the head of the table and started her own meal.

As you ate your breakfast, Roy and Arthur talked, discussing once again the best route to take back to the ranch. Despite not planning on going himself, Roy still wanted to make sure his opinion on the matter was considered and suggested the main road, which although would take longer, was safer from wild animals and any “savage outlaws that roamed the plains.” Arthur snickered at his choice of words, and noted that if he wanted to “come back to a ranch and not heap of ash, a shortcut is a better option.” Roy didn’t reply anything and turned back to his meal.

As Bertha sipped on her coffee, she turned to face you and asked, “Are you going too?”

“No,” both Roy and Arthur said in unison, and “Yes,” said you.

An awkward silence fell over as the three of you looked between each other. You could feel the men eyeing you in bafflement, Roy especially, but you looked at Arthur and spoke to him first.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” you said, disbelief painted all over your face.

Arthur shook his head, looking away and furrowing his brows.

“You’re not coming, it’s too dangerous,” he said, turning back to face you.

You let out a small chuckle before saying, “We’ve faced far more dangerous things than some puny cattle rustlers.”

Arthur dropped his fork and knife on the table with a loud thud and said, “You have a daughter now, I ain’t gonna let you put yourself in harm's way.”

“But you’re gonna let yourself get in harm's way?” you returned, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at him.

“They know who you are, they don’t know me,” he said, the volume of his voice long past what was appropriate for a breakfast conversation. “I can get in and out and they won’t know what hit em”

“And do you expect me to just sit patiently and wait?” you said, throwing your hands around. “What if something goes wrong? What if they’re more dangerous than we thought? Am I supposed to just wait till someone brings in your body?” Your words began to tangle in each other, becoming almost incoherent as you spoke faster than your mind could process. They, however, were cut short as Arthur shouted your name and hit his palm down on the table, making a glass of water spill.

Finally, the silence fell over the dining room once again and the only thing that could be heard were drops of water hitting the floor. Both Bertha and Roy sat wearing similar expressions, their mouths hanging open, eyes wide at what they just saw and heard. They felt like spectators, watching a play unfold before their eyes.

As you tried to calm yourself down, you remembered how back when you were in the gang, the two of you almost never went on missions without each other. At first, it bothered Dutch that if he wanted to send you on a mission, Arthur was bound to come along (and vice versa), but soon, he came to accept that the two of you were a package deal. He even took a notice that the jobs went smoother when the two of you were together, evident by the fact that you would get the job done quicker, and your gains were higher than those that Arthur and you brought when you went separately.

“You know I can’t let you go alone, Arthur,” you said after some time.

As if riding down the same memory lane you just did, he sighted and shook his head.

“I know,” he said before getting up from the table and going over to the room where he stayed.

Slightly shaken up from the intense display that took place, Bertha got up from the table, and without a word started cleaning up, taking empty plates and cups and putting them in the sink. You sat with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths, and bracing yourself for what was to come. You could already feel Roy open his mouth, could already hear his voice…

Arthur was haphazardly throwing his stuff in his bag, crumpling his shirts and pants into balls and pushing them into his bag as if the clothes themselves were at fault for his mood. He remembered how much fun the two of you had when you went on the jobs together. How the sight of blood and the smell of gunpowder did nothing more than excite you. A smile broke through his solemn face at the memory. But now, he thought, it was different. Not only had it been years since you were in the line of fire, but you now had a child. Your life has changed, you got away, broke free from the never ending nightmare in which one has to always look behind their back and sleep with one eye open and a gun under their pillow. He didn’t want you back into that kind of life, if it could even be called that. Deep in his mind, however, he knew it wasn’t for him to decide.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning over a dresser and closing his eyes. He could’ve probably plunged deeper into his thoughts, but a sound of hushed tones outside got his attention, and he straightened up, inching closer to the door and pressed his ear against it.

“I was okay with your past, but this is pushing it,” Roy said.

“Is my past pushing it?”

“Your past is in the guest bedroom, getting dressed.”

Your shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh left your lips. You and Roy have been bickering for the past five minutes. Truth be told, the bickering has been going on for the past few days, but only now has it culminated. The tension that he felt between you and Arthur just a few minutes ago drove him over the edge - the edge to which he came from seeing you hold a gun, hearing more about your past and now, seeing Arthur - and he found himself not being able to hold his thoughts and feelings in any longer. Just like it always happened with couples who started arguing about one thing, only to move on to a completely unrelated one, you both got defensive. The conversation was fruitless. Nothing of the matter was discussed, no solution was reached and everyone was left thinking the other was in the wrong, leaving the two of you sitting next to each other like strangers in a train station, waiting for the next train.

“I’m doing this for us, Roy,” you said.

“You’re doing this for yourself,” he spit out before adding, a little bit softer, “You’ve changed a lot in these couple of weeks. I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

You felt yourself detach from the world upon hearing his words. You could faintly hear him continue talking, referencing the relationship between his mother and father, and how the former always consulted her husband before any major decision, but you were not listening. You smiled weakly to yourself at the irony that upon showing him the real you, with all your past and your secrets, he said he didn’t know you anymore. Didn’t know, or he didn’t want to, you thought. Your mind instantly went back to Arthur, like it often tended to these past few days, and you thought of how from the beginning, he knew who you were, and without a word, accepted and loved you.

“You ready?”

Arthur’s voice pulled you out of your mind, and stopped Roy in his speech. You looked at Arthur, and then at Roy. For the first time since you got married, you didn’t feel anything when looking into your husband's eyes. You could see him plead, silently, for you not to go.

Without saying a word, you got up from your chair and went to your room to get

ready.

_________________

You turned your head around to watch your husband stand on the porch as you and Arthur roared off to your destination. You wondered what he thought as his figure grew smaller and smaller till he completely disappeared behind the trees. You turned back forward, spurring your horse.

The feeling of being back on a horse, with an iron on your hip and wind in your hair was exhilarating. You could feel life flow through your veins as you held the reins. Through clear plains, mountains and forests, the two of you rode non-stop for a few hours. There was not a single person on your way, only occasional elks, deers, and raccoons accompanying you on the journey. For a moment, you felt like you were once again an outlaw. All of this felt so familiar; you and Arthur, adrenaline in your veins, dirt road ahead. For a moment, you caught yourself thinking that if it weren’t for your daughter back home, you simply would’ve kept riding on.

As you kept going, the sun slowly began to set, painting the road in front of you in orange.

“Let’s make camp,” Arthur said when the sun completely disappeared, and the night loomed over.

As you found a secluded space in the woods, the two of you fell into a long-established routine, with you going out to get some firewood and Arthur hunting a rabbit for the two of you to eat. The night might’ve been a bit chilly, but with the campfire next to you and the rum Arthur found in his satchel, the two of you were nice and warm as you enjoyed food, drinks and conversations that piled up from years apart.

Your combined laughs could be heard all throughout the forest as Arthur told you about the latest predicament that John got himself into, and which he of course had to save him from. Sounds like John, you thought. You couldn’t tell how many times you and Arthur were sent to rescue him from some sort of trouble. Being the youngest, John always felt that he had to prove something to someone, which in the end, only proved that he was still the baby of the gang (despite at that point being a full grown adult).

Gradually, the laughter died down, but the smile still lingered on your lips.

“What are you so happy about?” Arthur said.

You looked into the fire, watching the flames dance and reach towards the sky, as you answered. “It’s been so long since I felt so at ease, so free…” you said.“I just-I’m real happy being here.”

Arthur hummed at your answer before saying, “Ranch life ain’t cutting it for you no more?”

“A woman can only shovel shit for so long,” you said, making Arthur chuckle. You took another swig of the rum before passing it to Arthur.

“I took this all for granted when we was together,” you said, looking around, “the freedom, the nature, the road. And now when I don’t have it, I crave it.”

You looked up, catching Arthur’s gaze and holding it as you continued.

“I find myself so often thinking about the past,” you said and added, a little lower, “about you, how much I miss it all.”

Arthur could already feel the effect of your words on him, could already feel the intensity with which his heart beat faster. Hearing you say those words, sparked a flame in him. Only a few seconds passed before you continued speaking, but it was enough for Arthur to imagine, for a brief moment, a future with the two of you together. Could it be possible? Did he still have a chance at the happy ever after? He always was a firm believer that you can’t expect good things to happen to you while doing bad things, but in that instance, he allowed himself to believe that something good could happen.

“Oh, Arthur,” you said, shaking your head, “I think I made a mistake all those years ago.”

The camp was silent except for the crackling of fire as your words hung in the air. Unlike a few years ago, you didn’t backtrack on your words, didn’t feel embarrassed by them. You meant every syllable and every letter. As much as you adored your current life, with your cows and your ranch, you found yourself thinking more often that you weren’t meant for it. You were tired of playing the role of the doting housewife, a rancher, shoveling shit and milking cows. The real you was out there, among the horses and the gun smoke. The thought only got stronger the closer you were to Arthur, and now that you were sitting next to each other, your thighs almost touching together, it reached its pinnacle.

No more words needed to be said as you held Arthur’s gaze. Everything has been said years ago. You stood up and got into his lap, draping your hands over his shoulders while his instantly went for your hips. The two of you stayed like this for a moment, admiring each other under the moonlight. You were conscious of nothing except the feeling of each other’s bodies against one another. Finally you moved your head closer, brushing your lips against his. You could feel his breath on your lips, the rum that the two of you drank still fresh on them. He closed his eyes, already leaning forward towards you.

His hands tightened on your hips when you pressed your lips against his, slow and gentle like you always were. The two of you quickly found a comfortable pace, your lips moving against each other in a perfect flow, your tongues brushing against one another every once in a while. Instinctively, you started to move your hips against his, searching for that delicious feeling you were craving. Arthur wasn’t holding back either, moving his hips in tandem with yours, brushing his clothed erection over your center. His hands left your hips, moving to your blouse and unbuttoning it, revealing your naked chest.

You helped him completely remove your blouse, throwing it into direction unknown. As soon as it was away, his mouth was on your skin, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

“Arthur,” you moaned when his tongue circled your nipple. You tangled your fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp and pushing your chest closer to his mouth. You could feel his beard scraping at your chest, adding a slight burn that only heightened your pleasures. One of his hands started palming your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers and making you throw your head back, moaning into the night.

He started going up your neck once again, leaving light nips and kisses from your chest, up your collarbone and neck, reaching to your ear. He kissed behind your ear while one of his hands was palming your breast, sending jolts of pleasure all through your being.

“Darlin’,” he said, kissing over your jaw and cheek, “I ain’t never lettin’ you go again.”

When it came to words, Arthur’s were always simple. He didn’t use any extraordinary vocabulary or elaborate euphemism. He always said what he meant, and his words always came from his heart. Hearing him utter this promise now, which held a vision of the future so beautiful you could hardly imagine it, made you teeter on the verge of crying tears of joy. You crashed your lips against his, not knowing any other way to express the sheer mix of love, lust and longing you were feeling.

Neither of you could wait much longer and you untangled yourself from each other, standing up and starting to remove each other's clothes. He helped you unbuckle your belt and throw it aside while you unbuttoned his shirt. His lips were back on yours as he helped you pull his shirt away and went to work on the buttons of your pants. Before long, the little camp you set up was littered with your combined clothes, leaving you in just your drawers and Arthur in his union suit.

It was a beautiful night, with a sky so clear that the amount of stars around was inestimable. You, however, didn’t pay any attention to them, keeping your eyes on Arthur as you slowly pulled down your drawers, letting them fall to the ground. His breathing became haggard as he took in your naked form, flushed in pink from the campfire next to you. He's seen you naked before countless times, yet the sight of our body never stopped to take his breath away. His breathing was caught in his throat as he watched your every movement, following your hands as they reached out to the buttons of his union suit.

You could see the reflection of the fire in his eyes as you stood in front of him, popping button after button of his union suit, revealing his tan skin. Once the last button was open, he helped you take his union suit off, leaving the two of you naked to each other.

He took your hand in his and helped you down to the bedroll, covering your body with his. With the campfire next to you, and Arthur’s body covering yours, you felt warm and safe, protected from any and every thing the world could throw at you. One of his hands reached out, cradling your face.

You placed your hand on his chest, running it up to his head and tangling it in his hair, bringing him down and pressing your lips against his. The kiss was as fiery and as hot as the fire you were laying next to, and in that moment, you realized that you never fell as alive as when you were with Arthur. “Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for things it has forbidden to itself,” you remembered a quote from the book you were reading a few weeks ago, and realized you were tired of resisting. You didn’t know what tomorrow had in store for you, but right now, you had Arthur and that’s all that mattered.

Breaking the kiss, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You didn’t even have to think to answer. Your answer came so quick it almost sounded as if the two of you talked at the same time.

The lopsided smile that appeared on Arthur’s lips at your words was so genuine and innocent, it made you smile in return. You made sure to burn the image of it in your memory, just like all the others you got throughs the years when the two of you said, “I love you”.

He settled comfortably between your spread legs and took a hold of his member before slowly pushing in.

“Arthur,” you moaned his name, clawing at his back when he bottomed out. You were practically dripping with how wet you were, yet his girth still gave you that delicious feeling of being stretched.

He kept still for a few moments, letting you get used to him all while whispering praises in your ear and kissing down your neck. When you felt you were ready, you moved your hips.

As if in a dream, silhouetted by the trees, the two of you made love under the starry night sky. The erotic novels would be envious of the passion the two of your shared; your bodies, sweaty, moving against each other in a perfect rhythm, your hands and legs, entangled in each other, your moans and sighs, unbounded, sounding in an empty forest. You were so lost in each other, you didn’t care if anyone heard you, the existence of other people didn’t register to you. The world was only as big as your camp, and the only people in it were the two of you.

You could feel yourself near the peak, could feel your legs twitch each time Arthur hit that delicious spot in you. He could feel it too, with how your walls were squeezing him tighter, and how your eyes were rolling to the back of your head each time he pushed in you. He wasn’t far behind either. One of his hands reached between the two of you, finding your clit and teasing it. It was as if an electric current shot through you; all your energy centered on where Arthur was touching you. You dug your nails into Arthur’s back, holding on to him as you breathed his name into his ear.

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, “let me feel you.”

As if hearing his voice was the last piece you needed to fall apart, you did. You saw white for a few moments as the immense pleasure took over your body, igniting every last nerve in you to life. You kept your body moving against his, your primal urges making you chase every last bit of pleasure you could get.

The sight of you so lost in lust, your face contoured from the pleasure you were feeling pulled Arthur overboard, and he came a few moments later, spilling in you and warming your walls with his seed.

The two of you stayed like this for a few more minutes, entangled in each other, whispering “I love you”s as you showered each other with kisses, from neck, to cheeks, to forehead and lips.

In the end, the two of you moved to the tent, draping a blanket over your bodies and holding onto each other. As the night went on, the tent filled with your combined dreams and hopes for the future. For the first time since the two of you got together, Arthur seriously discussed the possibility of leaving the gang so the three of you (You, Arthur and your daughter) could run away somewhere. You listened to him with your mouth open, not daring to make a single noise in fear of missing even a word he said. Could it be possible, you thought. Could you finally have the perfect ever after you’ve always dreamt of with Arthur? By the tone of his voice and how deeply in details he went as he planned the possible escape, you realized that your new life was right around the corner.

Despite the exhilarating conversation you were having, the two of you remembered you still had to wake up early tomorrow to make it to the ranch in time (the final loose end you had to tie before you were free). Reluctantly, you brought the conversation to a close - hopefully to be picked up again later - and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“During the years of Eleanor of Aquitaine’s captivity, 1174–89, she disappears almost entirely from sight. According to one account, Henry II ordered her confined in “well guarded strong places”; and she was first housed under close supervision in the royal castle at Sarum, or Old Salisbury, although later she can be located occasionally at other royal castles in southern England. As a woman, Eleanor received more lenient treatment than men captured while taking part in an armed rebellion; and Henry may have chosen Salisbury Castle for her detention as a gesture of leniency, for its residential quarters, a large quadrangle next to the keep, had been one of her favored abodes during her earlier years as queen.

According to a chronicler at Limoges, Henry imprisoned his queen at Salisbury Castle, “on guard against her reverting to her machinations.” The king’s fear was Eleanor’s continued involvement in the intrigues of their quarrelsome sons, and he tried to ensure that no communication passed between them. Yet he could not afford to treat her too harshly, for that would only have added to the hatred that Young Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey already felt for him. Earlier, both Anglo-Norman monarchs and counts of Anjou had not hesitated to imprison defeated nobles, including near-relatives, for years, often under such harsh conditions that they lost their health, if not their lives.

A queen’s long captivity was startling, but imprisonment of great ladies was not unprecedented. In medieval vernacular literature, tales were not uncommon of aristocratic ladies locked away for years, many of them by their own families, and history records many noble maidens whose fathers were forced to turn them over to their lords as hostages. Henry II could have made other choices for ridding himself of the threat presented by Eleanor to the stability of his rule. She could simply have disappeared during her captivity at Chinon, but young Arthur of Brittany’s mysterious disappearance from Rouen Castle later during John’s reign shows that such a solution would have created more problems than it solved.

Rumors that John had murdered his nephew with his own hands quickly spread, and it sapped his subjects’ loyalty to him, crippling him in his contest with his archenemy Philip of France. Certainly rumors of Eleanor’s death while in Henry’s hands following his suspected role in the murder of Becket would have had a similar effect. His wife’s murder would have aroused revulsion throughout Europe, and it would have so enraged the Poitevins that Plantagenet rule over them would have been impossible. In any case, Henry’s character had little in common with that of the insecure and overly suspicious John, and although severe and vengeful, he lacked his youngest son’s depraved cruelty that surfaced once he was king.

An option that great men had often chosen in earlier centuries for dealing with wayward or unwanted wives was immuring them in convents. Henry II considered such a step in 1175–76, when his adulterous affair with Rosamund Clifford was at its most passionate stage. A contemporary writer claimed that Henry, having imprisoned his queen, no longer tried to hide his adultery, and publicly displayed as his mistress, “not a rose of the world (mundi rosa) . . . , but more truly might be called the rose of an impure husband (immundi rosa).”

Apparently Henry was not worried that dissolution of his marriage to Eleanor would threaten his authority over her duchy of Aquitaine. Despite Louis VII’s loss of Aquitaine as a result of his divorce, Henry seemed confident that Richard’s formal installation as duke of Aquitaine and count of Poitou would keep Eleanor’s lands safely in Plantagenet hands. Henry saw an opportunity to secure a divorce from Eleanor at the time of a mission to England by a papal legate, sent from Rome to settle one of the endless quarrels between the kingdom’s two archbishops. On the papal representative’s arrival in England in autumn 1175, the king received him with honor, showering him with gifts and flattery.

Henry assumed that the cardinal would agree readily to a dissolution of his marriage on grounds of consanguinity, since Louis VII had won a divorce for that reason, and Henry’s kinship to Eleanor was even closer than her relationship to her first husband. The English king allegedly offered his queen release from her captivity during his Easter court at Winchester in 1176, if she would agree to enter a religious house, no doubt Fontevraud Abbey, probably with the prospect of becoming abbess there. The abbey had a reputation as a residence for noble ladies seeking refuge from wordly affairs, but Eleanor was unwilling to join them, not even if installed as abbess, and she and her sons resisted Henry’s plan.

She even appealed to the archbishop of Rouen against being packed off to Fontevraud, and he refused to give his consent to Henry’s plan. As the archbishop of Rouen’s role shows, the Church’s opposition was another obstacle to Henry in ridding himself of Eleanor, and his projected divorce was not to be easily accomplished. After Becket’s martyrdom, the English king had little credit with the papacy or with churchmen in England or elsewhere in Europe. He was in no position to pressure a pope firmly opposed to approving a divorce, particularly one who was doubtless aware of rumors that he desired the divorce in order to marry his mistress.

Whatever the possibility of Henry II setting his queen aside and taking Rosamund Clifford as his wife, events intervened to prevent it, for his beloved mistress died late in 1176 or in 1177. His fair Rosamund was buried at Godstow Priory in Oxfordshire only a few miles from their trysting place at Woodstock. Around the time of Rosamund’s death the patron of Godstow, an Oxfordshire baron, assigned his patronage rights over the house to Henry in order that it should be held “in chief of the king’s crown, as the Abbey of Saint Edmund and other royal abbeys throughout the kingdom of England are constituted.” This elevation in Godstow’s status reflects Henry’s deep feelings for his mistress, a desire to honor the convent that housed her tomb and to place the nuns watching over it under royal protection.

In the years following Rosamund’s death, Henry showed great generosity to the Godstow nuns, making them cash grants and giving them timber for their building projects. Soon gossip was circulating that Henry II’s desire for an annulment of his marriage was not in order to wed Rosamund Clifford, but so that he could marry instead the sixteen-year-old Alix of France, a maiden whom he had already “unchastely, and with too much want of faith, dishonored.” Alix’s father Louis VII had betrothed her to Richard at the Montmirail settlement of 1169, and he had handed her over to be raised at her future father-in-law’s court.

Henry’s ravishing of young Alix was far more shameful to contemporaries than his affair with Rosamund Clifford, for he had taken advantage of a girl entrusted to him as his ward when she was only nine to remain in his household until she reached the proper age for marrying Richard. In taking her to his bed, he had not only violated her trust, but also the trust of her father, his lord the French king, as well as that of his own son. This affair had begun during the queen’s absences from court, but given the rapid circulation of rumors from the royal court, Eleanor heard of the scandal almost at once, whether still in Poitou or sequestered in England later.

The queen would learn that Henry did not limit his adulterous affairs to Alix of France while she was in captivity. He sired another illegitimate son by a Welsh woman, Nest, married to one of his knights from southwestern England. He acknowledged the boy, named Morgan, who became a cleric and eventually was named provost of Beverley, Yorkshire, a lucrative ecclesiastical living that English kings often granted to high-ranking royal servants. News of the king’s liaison with Alix must have left Eleanor appalled, for the king’s conduct not only grossly violated aristocratic standards of honorable behavior, but also betrayed and humiliated her favorite son.

It gave both Eleanor and Richard yet another grievance against Henry. According to a courtier’s hostile account, the king hoped by means of new heirs born to his new favorite that he might “be able effectually to disinherit his former sons by Eleanor, who had troubled him.” The story of Henry II’s seduction of Alix is not simply another scurrilous tale told by his enemies, for several sources corroborate it. Henry was curiously reluctant to carry out the princess’s long-delayed marriage to Richard, despite periodic protests from Louis VII and Philip II and from high-ranking churchmen including the pope complaining on their behalf.

Strongest evidence for the accusation’s accuracy, however, is Richard Lionheart’s own resistance to marrying Alix. Roger of Howden, a chronicler with access to court circles, records Richard’s excuse offered to Philip, her half-brother, for refusing to marry his betrothed of many years at the outset of the Third Crusade. He quotes Richard as telling the French king, “I do not reject your sister; but it is impossible for me to marry her, for my father had slept with her and had a son by her.” Richard then added that he could present many witnesses capable of testifying to the truth of his statement.

At the time, the English king was in the embarrassing position of preparing to take a Spanish princess as his bride, and he needed a potent excuse for breaking off his engagement to Alix. The Lionheart’s most respected modern biographer finds it difficult to discount Howden’s “explicit statement.” Furthermore, the Lionheart need not have lodged such a bitter accusation against his own father in order to justify his rejection of Alix; he could simply have declared that she had borne another man’s child without naming the father.

…As years passed Eleanor was allowed to make sojourns at other castles, certainly to Winchester and Windsor and perhaps as far west as Devonshire, where she had held substantial lands. Within Winchester Castle was a series of buildings that together formed the equivalent of a royal palace; and during Henry II’s reign repairs and additions to the residential quarters were constantly under way. At Winchester, the queen probably encountered her daughter-in-law, Margaret, wife of the Young King, who was a frequent visitor there, for works undertaken in 1174–75 included construction of an addition “where the young queen hears mass.”

In 1176, Robert Mauduit received a payment of almost three pounds by the king’s order, apparently for Eleanor’s expenses during Henry’s Easter court held that year at Winchester. That court marked the last time that she would see all four of her sons together. Richard and Geoffrey had crossed from France for the feast, and they returned to the Continent with their father. Henry the Young King and his queen also left England after Easter, and he would be away from the kingdom for three years before returning for another Easter court at Winchester.

The dullness of Eleanor’s life was brightened by the betrothal of her youngest daughter Joanne in 1176. The captive Eleanor had no voice in negotiations for the eleven-year-old girl’s hand, but she would have been filled with pride at Joanne’s selection as the bride of William II, king of Sicily. William’s kingdom was the creation of eleventh-century Norman adventurers incorporating both Sicily and the southern Italian mainland and heir to traditions of the island’s previous occupiers, Greeks, Romans, and Arabs.

Years earlier Eleanor had seen first-hand the island’s splendors at their height under King Roger II, when her ship from the Holy Land, blown off course, landed her at the cosmopolitan city of Palermo in 1149. By the time William succeeded to the throne, however, Sicily’s greatness was fading into a sort of “Indian summer.” Henry II had sought a Sicilian marriage for one of his daughters earlier, and the project was revived in May 1176, when ambassadors from the Sicilian royal court came to England. They were entertained at Winchester, where Joanne was residing and where Eleanor had remained for a time after the Easter court.

The young princess’s beauty impressed the envoys, and Henry agreed to her betrothal to the young Sicilian ruler. English emissaries set off for Sicily to negotiate the marriage settlement, arriving at Palermo in early August. Perhaps the queen helped in readying her daughter’s trousseau and prepared her for life at the Sicilian royal court by recalling her own visit there years earlier. After Joanne’s departure for her new home, her mother could not have expected to see her ever again, but chance would reunite them on two occasions many years later. In September 1176 Joanne left Winchester for Palermo, loaded with clothing, gold and silver plate, and other impressive gifts to take to her new island home; the cost of one of her robes, no doubt her wedding dress, was over £114.25

In February 1177 in the Palatine Chapel at Palermo, she married William, a young man of twenty-two, and her coronation as his queen quickly followed. Joanne’s Sicilian marriage aroused greater interest among the English than had her two elder sisters’ marriages earlier to foreign princes. English adventurers journeyed south to seek their fortunes, attracted by accounts of the island kingdom’s riches. Artistic and literary inspiration flowed northward from Sicily; mosaics in Sicily’s Byzantine-style churches influenced English wall-paintings and manuscript miniatures, and the Sicilian kingdom became a setting for English romances.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “A Captive Queen’s Lost Years, 1174–1189.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

#eleanor of aquitaine #eleanor of aquitaine: queen of france queen of england #henry ii of england #alys of france #joan of england #high middle ages #history #medieval #richard i of england #ralph v. turner

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thecrownnet · 4 years

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October 3, 2020

Series four of The Crown takes on Princess Diana: exclusive pictures and interviews Charles has found a wife, Andy’s got a racy new girlfriend and Thatcher’s coming for tea... Megan Agnew gets an exclusive tour behind the scenes of the most wild and lavish series yet

Lasers. That’s what helped Emma Corrin understand Princess Diana in the latest series of The Crown. When the cameras were rolling, she imagined that lasers were pointing at her, as if she were in a spy film or a bank heist drama. It was her way of imagining hundreds of people staring right at her. Lasers helped her with the iconic Diana head tilt. She pretended she was shying away from them.

Corrin could also draw on her own trajectory as a 24-year-old actress. Before landing her part in The Crown, she was an unknown. Suddenly “there’s a huge amount of pressure”, she says.

When I visit the set at Winchester Cathedral, which is pretending to be St Paul’s, the paparazzi arrive to catch Corrin pretending to be Diana. She’s dressed in a replica of the outfit they papped at the actual royal wedding rehearsal almost 40 years ago. Every time she moves between buildings and trailers, Corrin has to be shielded with umbrellas. Life imitates art imitates life.

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Almost every person Corrin has spoken to since getting the role has their own “Diana moment” — they might once have waved at her car in the street, been a pupil at a school she visited or knew someone who sat next to her at a dinner. Diana was one of the first celebrities to whom people laid claim. “Everyone has this ownership,” says Corrin. She was, and still is, the People’s Princess. But Corrin is trying not to think too much about it. Public expectation has been “overwhelming since the beginning”, she says. She wants to do Diana “proud”. “I know that’s strange and cheesy, but I feel like I know her.”

Emma Corrin as Princess Diana/ NETFLIX

The first television series of The Crown, which aired in 2016, was at the time the most expensive in history. Each series since has been estimated to have cost upwards of £50 million. The first two covered the first decade of Elizabeth II’s rule to wide acclaim, but series three — in which Her Majesty Claire Foy was succeeded by Olivia Colman — had mixed reviews. “The jewel in Netflix’s tiara has lost its shine,” said one. It was “okay”, said another.

Now, with series four’s reported £100 million budget eclipsing the Queen’s own sovereign grant last year of £82.2 million, The Crown is barrelling straight into the Eighties era of celebrity glamour and modern party politics grit. Peter Morgan, the show’s creator, is taking on two of the most controversial public figures of the past 50 years: Princess Diana and Margaret Thatcher. “The word ‘iconic’ is overused, but in the case of these two women quite justified,” Morgan says. Both have passionate fans and detractors. “Writing them was a bit of a high-wire act, but it was exhilarating.”

We meet Diana as a teenager, scampering around her huge family home in Northamptonshire. She is young and apologetic. The Prince of Wales, at that time dating her eldest sister, is rather distracted. A number of years later, Diana is leaving her relatively modest flat in Earls Court and her job as a nursery school assistant to move into Clarence House — but finds herself in solitude. Bored and lonely, 19-year-old Diana rollerskates down corridors to Duran Duran and sits all by herself in her chamber. One night, after finding out about Prince Charles’s affair with Camilla Parker Bowles, she gorges on puddings and makes herself vomit them back up.

Behind the scenes: the latest series of The Crown/ NETFLIX

*Spoilers*

It is a dark moment that Corrin wanted to get right. She listened to real-life accounts of people who had suffered from bulimia and talked with experts from the eating disorder charity Beat. Diana herself said that it was the most “discreet” way of harming herself: “Everyone in the family knew about the bulimia,” she said in recordings from the 1990s later made into a Channel 4 documentary.

“Drawing on my experience,” says Corrin, “not that I’ve experienced that kind of self-harm, but mental health in general, it can lead you down a very dark path when you’re struggling to cope, when things feel out of control. Diana very much doesn’t have the love and comfort and attention she needs from the man she loves or the family, who aren’t really acting as a family to her. There is a build-up of emotion she can’t deal with and making herself sick is a way of taking back control.”

When Josh O’Connor, who plays the Prince of Wales, first read the script for this series he thought: “Oh God, how can Charles be like that to Diana? But he feels wronged. He feels like she has an addiction to the spotlight,” he says. “I have to feel sympathy for him in that world. This is a family who have an intense inability to be emotional and he has inherited that awkwardness. In this series there’s an awful lot of Charles trying to explain himself and not being allowed to. He’s trying to say that if he can be with Camilla, then at least two of the three people can be happy. As it is, there’s three miserable people.”

The Crown works differently to other shows in that the “writers’ room” is not made up of writers but researchers, who constantly feed back to Morgan, the king of The Crown. It means that for each word eventually spoken on film, there are pages and pages of briefing notes. Annie Sulzberger, head of research, started this series by hiring a young team. “I wanted people who did not grow up believing one or the other [Diana and Thatcher],” she says. “You have to be curious enough and ignorant enough, I suppose, to write the kind of work we need.”

This series will span the Thatcher years — 1979 to 1990 — and will include the assassination of Charles’s great-uncle, Lord Mountbatten, by the IRA, Charles and Diana’s wedding, and the Falklands War. Once the team has laid out a timeline, Morgan picks out the events he wants to feature. The research team starts to hone in on each, getting increasingly “micro” in their investigations. In the making of this series, one of the team spent two weeks researching the label on a bottle of wine from which a character briefly swigs.

Dress rehearsal: Josh O’Connor and Emma Corrin act out Charles and Diana’s wedding run-through/ NETFLIX

As the show has progressed, the fact-checking work has multiplied, thanks to the tabloid journalism of the 1980s. “It’s not just about words being printed,” Sulzberger says, “but who wrote it. Diana will become very close with a journalist called Richard Kay and feed him information, and Charles’s team will do the same. So you need to start unpicking the biographies of all the writers in order to know that what you’re doing has some objectivity.”

Did the team speak to any of Diana’s family or friends? “No.” Do the producers give any material to the Palace to see beforehand? “No. We have no connection to them that would result in editorial shifts. These are real people, these are real stories and we are filling in the moments that aren’t recorded — private conversations, moments of reflection, philosophical moments.”

When I ask Morgan if it’s true that he meets high-ranking courtiers four times a year, he is keen to clear up that he doesn’t. “I have never had any discussions with anyone actively working at the Palace,” he says. “The two worlds, the royal household and The Crown, exist in a world of mutual deniability, which I’m sure is every bit as important to them as it is to us.”

Corrin, though, did speak to Patrick Jephson, Diana’s private secretary, who appears as a fictionalised character in this series. “I got a sense of her joy from him,” Corrin says. “He said she was so naturally happy. When she joined the royal family, she had come from living with flatmates in Earls Court and she was a very normal girl. Patrick said she was still full of that girlish silliness, very down to earth.”

The couple themselves at the real thing in 1981 MIKE LLOYD/SHUTTERSTOCK/REX

The executive producer Suzanne Mackie says that “particularly now” The Crown team feels a sense of responsibility “to living people, people’s children, people’s parents. Obviously what we don’t do is engage on a fact level with the royal family. We have a tacit understanding that they need distance from us and we need distance from them.”

It is a cold day in January and I am watching Charles and Diana’s wedding rehearsal in Winchester. About 75 per cent of the show is filmed on location around the world, over the course of seven months. The rest is filmed at the show’s base, Elstree Studios, just north of London.

Today in Winchester Cathedral there is a crew of 78 and a cast of almost 200. The sight is as epic as the show’s budget would suggest. Between takes, Corrin sits on the stone steps by the altar, scrolling on her iPhone with one hand and biting her fingernails on the other. Even before the clapperboard snaps shut, the resemblance between her and the princess is uncanny.

Sidonie Roberts, head buyer and assistant costume designer, has a timeline of photos of Diana covering the wall of her studio at Elstree. Roberts is devoted to the cause. She travels to Paris to buy buttons from the same shop the Queen’s dressmaker uses (it sells more than 30,000 types of button) and to Soho to rummage in basements for fabric. Last year she was in a Bangladeshi fabric shop in Brick Lane, east London, when she saw a roll of material right on the very top shelf. “It was still in its plastic, but I just knew — that’s Diana’s colour,” Roberts says. She got a ladder, climbed to the top, pulled down the fabric and bought it for £3.50 a metre. When Roberts got back to the studio at Elstree, she unrolled it and saw a stamp at the bottom: “The Lady Diana Collection, made in Japan.” Roberts did some research. It was real silk, from a collection made in the princess’s honour.

In the corner of the studio an assistant is gluing tiny pearls to Diana’s flat wedding shoes. She has been decorating them, exactly like the originals, for a day and a half. “We’ve had a long conversation about the size of those pearls,” says Roberts. David and Elizabeth Emanuel, who designed Diana’s original wedding dress, donated patterns to the show, which were used to make the new version. With its 25ft train, it took ten people to get Corrin into the dress. In the show it is seen in full, and only from behind, for no more than 15 seconds.

Paying their respects: Olivia Colman as the Queen and the rest of the royal family at the funeral of Lord Mountbatten/ NETFLIX

Corrin is masterful at inhabiting Diana’s coyness — hunching her shoulders towards her ears as she walks, the smirk, her intonation. Diana’s voice was the “polar opposite” of the royals’, says William Conacher, The Crown’s dialect coach. “She moved her jaw twice as much, so her voice was more forward, open, easier to access, and I don’t think it’s especially revelatory to suggest accessibility was her shtick,” he says. “She used a minor key that made her seem vulnerable. Despite the Queen’s and Prince Charles’s accents being ‘stiffer’ to listen to, I think it comes entirely naturally, whereas I find Diana’s voice more studied. I think she spoke to have an effect.”

What sort of research did Colman do for series four’s Queen? “Yeah, I don’t do research,” she says when we speak on the phone in the summer. “The research team on The Crown is a bit like the British Library. It’s extraordinary, and when they kick in, your computer can’t really cope with the amount of stuff they send you.” Was there something in particular that the team sent her that made things click? “No.” There is a longish silence. It seems Colman’s royal duty is waning. “They’ve got every image and film of the Queen ever made. I’ve also got three kids, so I can’t spend all my time going through all of it.”

As she wraps up a second series of The Crown — Imelda Staunton will take over for five and six — Colman knows that she would “really not like” to have the Queen’s job. “There are very few people who are forced into a job and have no choice about it,” she says. “She’s done it with dignity, for decades, bless her. It’s amazing.”

The funeral of Lord Mountbatten took place in 1979 BENTLEY ARCHIVE/POPPERFOTO/GETTY

If there were rumours of Elizabeth II being unhappy about the last series of The Crown, I can’t imagine she’ll be too chuffed about this one. Series four’s Queen is colder and more distant, and the effects of her duty on her children more obvious: Charles is heavy with melancholy, Anne feels unheard, Edward is portrayed as a spoilt bully and Andrew is dangerously arrogant.

Speaking of Andrew, there is a subtle nod towards recent events. At one point the prince discusses a young American actress he is dating. The actress had recently played a 17-year-old who must entertain several “old predators who seduce the vulnerable, helpless young Emily”. The real prince dated the actress Koo Stark in 1981, who had starred in The Awakening of Emily, which had a near-identical plot.

In series four, the pivotal relationship between the Queen and Margaret Thatcher begins well. They are respectful of one another as no-nonsense working mothers, but tensions arise — not least, over tea etiquette at Balmoral.

In preparation for her role as the Iron Lady, Gillian Anderson met Charles Moore, Thatcher’s biographer, as well as secretaries who worked with her. “The only way for me to go about sitting inside of her was to find the reason behind her actions — growing up, what she learnt from her father, how much she truly believed that she was the answer and as long as we all took the sour medicine now we’d be able to turn around this country, completely shutting her eyes to the people that she was turning out on the street.”

Anderson eventually “settled into” the body of Thatcher. “She walked very fast, always up ahead,” Anderson says. “She would power forward in front of presidents. With [Ronald] Reagan she would supposedly be alongside him, but was walking ahead. Always walking ahead of [husband] Denis, telling him to catch up.”

Thatcher’s barnet also features. In one scene she spends an asphyxiating four seconds hairspraying it in preparation for a showdown with the Queen. The hairdo took endless camera tests before Morgan was happy with it. “It essentially meant destroying it so it had an overprocessed ‘frothy’ quality,” says the hair and make-up designer Cate Hall. “To treat a wig so badly was against all of our instincts — they’re so expensive — but I’m grateful now that we went through the process with Peter, with him saying no, more, it’s not right, try again.”

Clash of the titans: Margaret Thatcher, played by Gillian Anderson, is filmed meeting the Queen, played by Olivia Colman, in a memorable scene from series four/ NETFLIX

Series five will have a whole new cast. Colman says she is “not the sort of person who keeps the shoes of a character they played 20 years ago”. But Helena Bonham Carter is going to miss Princess Margaret. “She does pop out [in everyday life],” she says. “The other day I was at some public event and there was the normal scramble of people and I just told them, ‘No, shut up.’ The finger came out, which is very her, and I said, ‘Shut up and wait. Don’t get hysterical.’ So I’ve got the bossy side of her.”

Originally Morgan said there would be two more series after this one. Then he changed his mind, describing series five as “the perfect time and place to stop”. Now there are two more again (“To do justice to the richness and complexity of the story,” he reneged). The show is creeping closer to the modern day. It is now said to be ending in the 2000s, spanning, perhaps, Charles and Diana’s divorce, the deaths of Diana, Margaret and the Queen Mother, the marriage of Charles and Camilla, and the teenage and twentysomething princes. “I want to end it close enough to present day to feel that we have completed a long journey and distant enough to feel historical,” says Morgan. “I have a specific incident in mind, but until I’ve actually written it and seen if it works, I can’t commit to discussing it.”

On set with Mackie, I mention Harry and Meghan. “Too often,” the couple posted on their Instagram page that month, “we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring.” Is it possible, I ask Mackie, for the royal family to humanise themselves while still justifying their existence as something mightier, more important, regal? “That’s where you go wrong, as a public figure, letting light in on the magic, especially as a monarch,” she replies. “You have to be an ideal. After years and years of that subjugation of self in order to put duty first, you, the essence of you, is buried somewhere. The Queen is a tiny little person inside many, many Russian dolls.”

Series four of The Crown is available on Netflix from November 15

#olivia colman #helena bonham carter #gillian anderson #the crown #the crown spoilers #tobias menzies #josh o'connor #emma corrin #princess diana #ben daniels #erin doherty #emerald fennell #charles dance #marion bailey #the crown netflix

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skippyv20 · 4 years

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Little known facts about Monopoly

Everybody knows that you collect $200 when you pass go, but there is so much more to learn about Monopoly than just the gameplay. The popular board game has been around for more than 80 years, which means there is a lot of history behind the game.

Hand-Made Darrow Game is oldest version

The oldest version of Monopoly in the world is the hand-made Darrow game. The game board was produced by Charles Darrow, and it is believed that he produced around 5,000 copies of the game. After Parker Brothers declined to purchase the game from Darrow, he produced them to showcase the game. The original game was such a hit that the Parker Brothers changed their mind and ended up making an offer.

The original Darrow game board was a circular piece of oil cloth with squares that had been drawn on. It also contained pieces of monopoly money, cards, and wooden game pieces. One of the original 5,000 games was purchased for $146,500 by the Strong National Museum of Play on Rochester, New York

Aided Prisoners of war

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Monopoly was popular during World War II, and it was used to help prisoners of war during the time. Germany allowed POWs to receive letters and packages, and they also let them play board games to help keep their minds off escaping. The British Intelligence ook advantage of this situation and tworked with the makers of Monopoly to insert items that would help prisoners plan their escape. Some of the items inserted include compasses and maps that showed safe routes to escape.

These items were covered under labels on the game board so they would not be detected by anyone else. There would also be real money of different currencies mixed with the fake monopoly money. Prisoners would enjoy playing the game with each other while also carefully planning their great escape

Monopoly Man inspired by a real tycoon

It is rumoured that the Monopoly Man, also known as Rich Uncle Penny Bags, was created to resemble J. P. Morgan. Morgan was one of the most influential men in the country just before the game was created. He was an American banker and financier who oversaw the financial firm that is now known as J. P. Morgan and Company.

The energetic old man that is the mascot of monopoly favours J. P. Morgan physically in several ways. The Monopoly man wears a morning suit with a bow tie and top hat, which closely resembles most pictures of J. P. Morgan. Both Morgan and the mascot have a moustache that steals the show, and Morgan was often photographed with a cane much like the one Uncle Penny Bags waves around

Properties Based on real Streets

All the properties found on a Monopoly game board are based on real streets in Atlantic City, New Jersey. From Baltic to Marvin Gardens to Boardwalk, they are all real places that can be visited. Marvin Gardens was an accidental misspelling of the actual Marven Gardens, and it is now one of the most desirable areas in real life. Even though the game properties were based on real streets, not all of the properties still exist in real life. Atlantic City’s Illinois Avenue was renamed in the 1980’s to Martin Luther King Jr Boulevard. St. Charles Place is no longer around, but the Showboat Atlantic City was developed where the street once ran

Game pieces have evolved over time

Monopoly did not originally feature the famous thimble or top hat game pieces. In fact, the original game did not even come with game pieces. Players used household item such as buttons or paper clips as their game marker. Game pieces were wooden when they were first introduced, but they were replaced by iron pieces in 1937. The iron, car, thimble, shoe, lantern, purse, dog, battleship, and rocking horse were all released in the first year.

During the war, Parker Brothers went back to making wooden pieces for a short time period due to metal shortages. The game pieces changed in the 1950’s with several new markers including the racecar, boot, cannon, and wheelbarrow. These pieces remained in the game until the 1990s. The game tokens used today are the dog, racecar, cat, top hat, and battleship along with three pieces that were added in 2017, which were the penguin, rubber ducky, and T-rex.

Compete In Monopoly World Championships

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Players of the game can compete seriously in local tournaments that can lead to national tournament play. The best players in national tournaments will have the opportunity to compete in the Monopoly World Championships. The World Championships are usually held every 4-6 years with the last championship being held in Macau in 2015. There have been 14 World championships in all with the previous championships were held in 2009 (Las Vegas), 2004 (Tokyo), 2000 (Toronto), and 1996 (Monte Carlo). The last two championship used the Speed Die and $1,500 starting cash, while all other previous championships were played using the classic set of rules

Most expensive Monopoly game at $2 Million

In 1988, the jeweller Sidney Mobell of San Fransisco created an exclusive $2 million Monopoly set. The game board is made from 23 carat gold, and the dice showcased 42 full cut diamonds for the spots. Even the houses and hotels are made from solid gold and are topped with sapphires and rubies.

The thimble, racecar, and other small game pieces are made from 28 carat solid gold. In 2003, Mobell donated the record-breaking gold game set to the Smithsonian. The Smithsonian is affiliated with the Museum of American Finance, where the expensive game board was on display until October 2012.

More than 10 Monopoly World Records

There are more than 10 Guinness World Records that pertain to Monopoly. These records include the most people playing Monopoly in a single venue, largest collection of Monopoly memorabilia, and the largest Monopoly board game. The largest Monopoly board game was created in 2016 in Netherlands and measured a whopping 9,689.97 feet.

The largest permanent Monopoly game board is different though and is located in San Jose, California. It is called Monopoly in the Park, and it is open for the public to enjoy. The larger-than-life game board takes up 930 square feet and includes jumbo dice, gigantic tokens, and jailhouse wear for those who “do not pass go and go directly to jail.” The record-breaking game board opened to the public in July 2002

Over 300 Monopoly licensed game boards

There is a good chance that you have seen or even played a special edition licensed Monopoly game. There are currently more than 300 licensed versions of the popular board game from all topics including movies, sports, tv shows, and pop culture. In 1991, Hasbro acquired both Parker Brothers and Monopoly, and they started producing all of the licensed versions that you see today.

Some of the popular licensed editions include Super Mario, Garbage Pail Kids, The Simpsons, Call of Duty, Pac-Man, and Breaking Bad versions of the game. You can also find the game in several sports teams editions, Disney movie editions, and even the popular Star Wars version.

Elizabeth Magie was original creator

Charles Darrow was a domestic heater salesman from Philadelphia, and he is usually credited with the creation of Monopoly. The truth is that he actually stole the idea from a woman. Elizabeth Magie created a board game very similar to the one played today. Her game was known as Landlord’s Game, and she filed a legal claim for the game in 1903. Parker Brothers did not start manufacturing Darrow’s Monopoly until 30 years later.

She designed the game as a protest against rich monopolists such as John D. Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie. Darrow claimed a version of the game as his own and eventually sold it to Parker Brothers. Parker Brothers struck a deal with Magie to purchase her Landlord’s Game patent and two more of her game ideas, which never hit the market. Darrow’s royalties on the game brought him millions of dollars, while Magie was reported to only make a mere $500 from her deal

https://listverse.com/2020/09/04/10-little-known-facts-about-monopoly/i

Thank you...😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

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aic-design · 3 years

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Small Homes Guide, Interior Studies with Moveable Partition, Design Drawing, Lloyd Morgan Yost, 1943, Art Institute of Chicago: Architecture and Design

During the 1940s, the building industry in the United States was gearing up for an anticipated boom in residential construction after the end of World War II. Lacking clients during the war years, architect L. Morgan Yost had remarkable success as the editor of Household Magazine and Small Homes Guide, two publications dedicated to encouraging the dream of homeownership for young enlisted men and their wives. Yost produced a range of model house designs for these magazines, often variations of the popular ranch style, published with sentimental titles such as House for Children. While designs like House Study #230 mimic low-cost houses built across the nation by the Levitt Brothers and other large developers, Yost developed a number of inventive domestic designs incorporating dynamic partitions or a prefabricated bathroom. Gift of Lloyd Morgan Yost Size: 27 × 29 cm (10 5/8 × 11 7/16 in.) Medium: Ink on tracing paper

https://www.artic.edu/artworks/243509/

#artinstituteofchicago #museumarchive #lloydmorganyost #architectureanddesign

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dweemeister · 3 years

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Movie Odyssey Retrospective

Fun and Fancy Free (1947)

About midway through Walt Disney Productions’ (now Walt Disney Animation Studios) run of package films, it is easy to see how the creative engines of the studio’s staff were beginning to fall apart. Walt’s studio remained deeply in debt even as World War II concluded and its propaganda commitments ended. As such, the low-budgeted but decently-grossing package films remained the studio’s focus, as these films helped the studio financially afloat and to keep the animators in passable artistic shape. The fourth of six films from that era, Fun and Fancy Free – with Jack Kinney, Hamilton Luske, and Bill Roberts directing the animation and William Morgan directing the live-action sequences – contains a poor pairing of two extended short segments and a connecting/framing segment devoid of inspiration. Upon release, the film was instantly the least artistically inspired feature that the studio had completed. Fun and Fancy Free’s nearly nonexistent legacy among other features in the Disney animated canon is no surprise.

Fun and Fancy Free is divided into three: two longer animated segments (the second far more famous than the first) with a transitional live-action segment in its center. Jiminy Cricket (voiced by Cliff Edwards) is present at the film’s beginning, transitional middle, and conclusion.

Jiminy introduces the audience to the story of Bongo, which tells the tale of the eponymous circus bear who want to break free of the circus and live as a wild bear. Bongo will escape, but is disillusioned on his first lonely night in the forest. That is all quelled when he stumbles into a female bear – Lulubelle – he is instantly attracted to. Lulubelle’s feminine charms work because she has eyelashes and a pink bow on top of her head. How could the viewer possibly tell otherwise? Dinah Shore, better known for her music career at this time, narrates Bongo. And the fact that Shore narrates the segment may be the only tolerable aspect to it. What follows is a 30-minute extended short that feels five times too long. As pleasant as Shore’s singing voice is for Bongo’s forgettable songs, this first half to the film will wear the stamina. We learn that the bears of the forest show affection for another by slapping them – not some light pat on the cheeks, mind you, but a full-bodied, potentially cheekbone-breaking wallop to the face.

Bongo’s tedious slapstick seems ripe for a decent Disney animated short film – goodness knows how meta Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) might have approached it or how suggestively Warner Bros. could have depicted the ursine wooing. As strange as the premise can be and as painterly as some of the backgrounds are (albeit not close to the standards set in Disney’s Golden Age), they cannot save Bongo from its narrative disinterest and tired romantic plotting. For readers with children who see this film, a conversation about the bears’ slapping habits is necessary. Fun and Fancy Free’s first half depicts what justifiably interpreted as a cheerful portrayal of domestic abuse – behavior that might rub off on impressionable youngsters. As part of the Disney animated canon, Bongo is like an animators’ calisthenics – a minor routine for more important exercises to come.

With Bongo out of the way, we now come to an interstitial before commencing with Mickey and the Beanstalk (Fun and Fancy Free’s primary claim to fame). This transition stars child actress Luanna Patten as herself attending her own birthday. Her birthday party is just across the street in the household of ventriloquist Edgar Bergen. Bergen is there, along with his dummies Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd. Bergen and his dummies were at the height of their popularity in the 1940s – instantly recognizable then, more likely to inspire quizzical glances from audiences in the early 2020s. These several minutes are a decent display of Bergen’s considerable talents, but they assume a familiarity with his work that feels quite dated in the present day (you never know, ventriloquists may someday return to mainstream American culture). They are here to begin telling the story of Mickey and the Beanstalk to Luanna Patten.

For Mickey and the Beanstalk (based on the “Jack and the Beanstalk” fairy tale), Mickey is joined by his friends Donald Duck and Goofy for yet another misadventure. The starving trio are living together – short on luck, short on money. Mickey makes a unilateral decision to sell their only cow for a container of magical beans. Donald, incensed as always, rages at Mickey, and throws the beans away. But the beans are indeed magical and, overnight, a beanstalk sprouts and carries their farmhouse skyward, to the domain of an ill-tempered giant. On occasion, one of Bergen’s dummies or Luana Patten herself will interject during the telling of this tale – an inconvenience, but not overly grating.

Like Bongo, Mickey and the Beanstalk, was a long-gestating plan that, before the United States’ entry into World War II, was planned as a feature (a feature-length Bongo might just make me croak). But the substitution of Jack for Mickey, Donald, and Goofy was not always part of the original plan. In 1940, when Walt first heard the pitch to have Mickey Mouse featured prominently in such a film, he found the idea hilarious. Despite his gut-bursting laughter, Walt told the pitching story writers (Bill Cottrell and T. Hee) that they, “murdered my characters,” and, “destroyed what I’ve been working years to build up.”

Walt’s most cutting criticism towards Cottrell and Hee concerned Mickey. The brash, mischievous Mickey Mouse of the 1920s and ‘30s would rarely be seen again – to Walt’s disappointment in his writing staff. With the studio’s financial situation, wartime commitments, and other projects commanding Walt’s attention, he became disenchanted with his creation, his studio’s mascot. Fun and Fancy Free is the last film in which Mickey is voiced by Walt Disney; he gave the role to sound effects artist Jimmy MacDonald in 1948 (a role MacDonald kept until 1976). And in Fun and Fancy Free, Donald runs roughshod over Mickey and Goofy. If Mickey, Donald, and Goofy had no reputation prior to this film, one might wonder why bother crediting Mickey as a title character in this segment. With Mickey and the Beanstalk, the studio’s mascot was cemented as a somewhat naïve, charming, romantic lead. Mickey’s characterization in this film has held to the present day.

Mickey and the Beanstalk – created in part because Walt’s staff wanted to have their boss voice Mickey once more – exemplifies greater effort than the work on Bongo. It may not be enough to counteract the aftertaste left by Bongo, but contains artistic inventiveness and sly humor that make it one of the better, but not among the best, pieces featuring Mickey and his friends. It closes a wildly uneven film – inessential to the Disney animated canon, but indispensable when pertaining to the history of Mickey Mouse.

Walt Disney Productions continued to make money with the package films, including Fun and Fancy Free, but critics and audiences were becoming impatient with the format and artistic decisions. Innovation in animated feature films had stalled at the Disney studios, as well as American animation at large. Disney’s domestic animation competitors were beholden to the cel animation the studio had standardized in the industry. Whatever artistic daring there was in animated cinema during the 1940s lied abroad, in Europe and Asia. In the immediate post-War years, films like Princess Iron Fan (1941, China); The Lost Letter (1945, Soviet Union); The Czech Year (1947, Czechoslovakia); The Humpbacked Horse (1947, Soviet Union); and others underlined the innovation coursing through animated cinema. The histories of these films and their filmmakers are mostly unwritten, due to Communist shenanigans and Disney’s modern stranglehold on preconceptions about animated cinema.

In an era where Walt Disney Productions was adrift, the likes of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) and Fantasia (1940) were beginning to seem anomalous, rather than a standard by which the studio measured itself. In 1947 following Fun and Fancy Free’s release, the studio showed no public signs of returning to non-package animated features. Quietly, within the studio’s Burbank campus, the animators were assembling the pieces necessary for that very return.

My rating: 5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

This is the nineteenth Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are reviews on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include The Wizard of Oz (1939), Fantasia (1940), and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001).

#Fun and Fancy Free #Walt Disney #Jack Kinney #Bill Roberts #Hamilton Luske #William Morgan #Mickey Mouse #Edgar Bergen #Charlie McCarthy #Luana Patten #Dinah Shore #Jiminy Cricket #Donald Duck #Goofy #Clarence Nash #Pinto Colvig #Billy Gilbert #My Movie Odyssey

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rurpleplayssims · 1 year

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After another few minutes of the loudest silence Becky had ever endured, she plucked up the nerve to speak first. “Umm...shall we go outside and get some fresh air..?”

“Why?” Luke asked, voice and expression limp with numbness.

“So we can talk” Becky said, feeling her way through the talking. “About...what just happened.”

“You rejected my marriage proposal because you don’t want me. What more is there to talk about?” Luke asked, still numb.

“I do still want you!” Becky exclaimed, almost shouting the words, so loudly the other patrons looked around to stare at them.

Becky gulped, they were making a scene and Luke seemed like the life had gone out of him.

“Can we go outside?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Please?”

#CampbellQuayBaCC #Campbell Quay #CampbellQuay #The Sims 2 #TS2 #BaCC #Build a City Challenge #The Sims 2 BaCC #Morgan II Household #Morgan II Round 2 #Winter: Second Year #Becky Kenneth #Luke Lycan

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laularlau8 · 4 years

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As Gillian Anderson walked through the lounge of a posh Los Angeles hotel late last fall, I wondered how it was possible that no one pounced on her for an autograph or threw themselves passionately at her feet. The star of Netflix’s Sex Education, The X-Files, and soon The Crown was clad in a bright fuchsia tailored suit and seemed to radiate stardust from her pale pink pores, yet not a single head so much as turned. Instead Anderson quietly settled in beside a fireplace to observe others going about their business: well-heeled guests silently playing a mysterious board game with crystal discs, and a pack of shaggy-chic hounds that darted in and out of the room pursued by their equally rumpled master.

Anderson and I were supposed to be discussing season two of Sex Education, the British teen dramedy that was a surprise hit when Netflix first released it a year ago. She reprises her role as Jean Milburn, a forthright sex therapist and single mom to Otis (Asa Butterfield), who—despite his own bodily anxieties and absolute inexperience—follows in his mother’s sexpert footsteps and offers counseling-for-cash to his fumbling teenage peers. But Netflix had declared so many plot points off-limits, you’d have thought it was a Game of Thrones spin-off rather than a sweetly off-kilter series doused in adolescent horniness and confusion.

“I looked at the list of spoilers—it is basically every single plotline that’s in the entire season!” said Anderson. Suffice it to say that Jean remains the kind of parent who would loudly announce, “I’m so proud that you’re at this stage in your pubescent development.” She continues dispensing advice and embarrassing Otis by overstepping parent-child boundaries whenever possible. She also unabashedly pursues her own pleasure, even as Otis gets to grips (yes, literally) with his sexuality. “Poor Otis!” Anderson sighed empathetically.“I haven’t played many moms,” she said, sifting through a lifetime of roles in her head. Although she has three kids in real life, Anderson noted that she’s “mostly played women that don’t have children.” Anderson specializes in high-intensity heroines, such as the iconic Agent Dana Scully in the The X-Files, a compelling detective pursuing a serial killer in The Fall, Great Expectations’ Miss Havisham, and All About Eve’s Margo Channing.

Her character in Sex Education is a rare comedic turn, though she approached it with the same desire for unpredictability. Anderson told me last year she wanted Jean “to feel grounded and neurotic at the same time. I wanted her to feel like she had things under control, and yet she might be losing her grip at any time. I wanted her to feel that she really was feeling like she was trying her best, and yet kept making mistakes and saying the wrong thing.”

Anderson has embraced her character’s sexpert status, dubbing herself “Shag Specialist” on Twitter, where she regularly posts playful images of things that look like genitals, hashtagged #YonioftheDay and #PenisoftheDay. She revels in the dilemmas Sex Education writers cook up for the scripts: One of her favorites this season involved a sexual experiment with a stocking stuffer filled with M&M’s. “You know those tubes that you get at Christmastime in your stocking that you can hang on your tree?” she asked in her crisp American voice, which occasionally strays into a British accent because she has lived in the U.K. for years.

Waving distractedly to a man in the distance, Anderson muttered in a hushed voice, “That’s my boyfriend, Peter”—The Crown creator Peter Morgan. The couple have been working together on season four of the series, in which Anderson plays U.K. prime minister Margaret Thatcher, but she insists there was no nepotism involved in the casting decision. “I’ve heard Pete say that were we not together, I still would have been offered it,” she said. I believe it: Anderson’s forte is exactly that type of steely charisma exuded by Thatcher, which earned her the nickname the “Iron Lady.”

Although she spent a portion of her childhood in the U.K. during the 1970s, Anderson said her family never cared about the queen at all. “I never paid that much attention [to the royals] until I was in a relationship with Pete,” she recalled. Even then, she didn’t immerse herself in the topic until she joined the show and, she said with mock exasperation, “it became a topic of daily conversation!” She dove into research on Thatcher’s life, searching for the key to that impregnable self-belief and drive that gave the Conservative prime minister her towering aura of authority and ability to bulldoze through any opposition.

“It was almost like she came out of the womb with it,” Anderson said. “Just seeing still imagery of her standing next to her father who was an alderman, she’s so self-possessed and she started making speeches back then. She probably watched him write them and absorbed it. But none of that really necessarily explains the particular power she had—how determined she was. She really believed that she had the answers.” Anderson ascribes that in part to Thatcher’s religious upbringing as a Methodist: “There were certain ways of doing things, and if you stick to the right behavior and right mind and right action then there are good results at the end of it. She felt like she could whip the country into shape in the same way that she could whip a household into shape.”

The Crown spent its first few seasons dramatizing Queen Elizabeth’s halting journey toward embracing her own power. She grew into her role in part thanks to the counsel and encouragement of past prime ministers like Winston Churchill and Harold Wilson. So it will be interesting to watch her more frictional relationship with Thatcher play out onscreen next season. Anderson said that while Elizabeth II and Thatcher were of a similar age, “their differences were such that you could understand why they would rub against each other.… They were the antithesis of each other.”

Anderson is fascinated by the way Thatcher came into her own later in life. Her own options seem to be similarly expanding as she grows older. She spent years adapting an Elizabeth Rosner novel into a screenplay but ended up putting the project aside because she was being offered constant acting work. “I haven’t been brave enough to create that time,” she said, “because there have been too many other tantalizing things.”

Her first big role as Agent Scully 26 years ago plunged Anderson into the maelstrom of celebrity sex objecthood—something that made her uncomfortable at the time. She said she feels much more comfortable in her skin these days. “Back then I never really quite understood what people were referring to, especially [with] Scully,” she said, letting out a throaty laugh when I stared at her disbelievingly. “I’m sure it had a lot to do with my own self-esteem or lack thereof at the time. But I can definitely own it now, in a fun way. Almost like, Really? Okay.” She paused to take a sip of tea and smiled. “I have fun with that because it won’t last forever.”

#gillian anderson #on #sex education #and the crown

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dovebuffy92 · 3 years

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https://www.fanbolt.com/110752/the-crown-season-four-review-peoples-princess-turned-human/

he Crown Season Four, created by Peter Morgan, follows the British royal family from 1977 to 1990. Until the last episode, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher runs the United Kingdom with a stern hand. Gillian Anderson and Emma Corrin are a brilliant addition to the cast of powerful women.

The Crown dramatizes events surrounding the royals, so there is a lot of creative licenses taken. The series, which is based on real events, humanizes the British royal family. I want to be clear that I am writing about the fictionalized characters, not the actual royal family.

Margaret Thatcher is neither the villain nor hero in this saga. From the jump, Gillian Anderson as Thatcher is a complicated figure. She is the first female Prime Minister, but not a feminist. Thatcher would be thrilled to close the glass ceiling behind her, thinking that she is the exception, not the norm. She views women as weak.

Margaret often cooks meals for her male Cabinet Ministers. The prime minister serves them as she barks orders about the war with Falklands. Margret is the ultimate control freak who is unwilling to compromise, but at the same time, she acts out domestic tasks. When Margert visits Queen Elizabeth II at Balmoral Castle, she puts away her husband Dennis’s clothes, disgusted that anybody else would do that. It’s extraordinary that the formidable Margaret Thatcher tries to fit into the submissive housewife role. After all, Thatcher heads her household, not Dennis.

Instead of being an icon, Lady Diana Spencer (Emma Corrin) presents as a real person in The Crown. During her life, Diana became the “People’s Princess” who could do no wrong. In the series, her flaws and strengths are revealed.

Prince Charles meets Diana as a shy sixteen-year-old who loves to perform. The future couple connects because they both feel like outsiders in their own homes. When Charles courts Diana, it’s clear that they are part of two different worlds. Diana’s in her late teens and helps out at a local pre-school. She cleans her big sister’s home, then parties with her three roommates in London.

Charles is a thirty-something-year-old man with significant responsibilities who enjoys outdoor activities like gardening and hunting. The match doesn’t work, but the family forces it. All they can see is Diana’s charm. Diana was born into British Nobility, grew up in the country, and seems quite shy. The main problem is that she doesn’t know Charles is already in love with the married Camilla Parker Bowles. Charles’ love affair dooms their marriage from the start.

The marriage between Lady Diana and Prince Charles causes pain for both parties. They are cruel to one another. Even when they were engaged, Charles pays little attention to Diana. She is left alone in Buckingham Palace to learn how to be Princess of Wales from her strict grandmother Lady Fermoy. Diana feels isolated without the warmth of her friends. The pressure mounts to the point where she develops bulimia. Diana’s struggle with bulimia continues throughout the season.

The television show does a great job of not glamorizing bulimia. Diana only suffers from the eating disorder in moments when she feels out of control, like when she realizes how close Camilla is to her fiancé. Prince Charles’ emotional and sexual affair with his mistress continues off and on during the whole season. Diana refuses to go along with things, unlike the rest of the Royal family. If something like going on a royal tour to New Zealand and Australia without her new baby son William displeases Diana, she fights back. Wherever they go, Diana steals Charles’ spotlight by presenting as a friendly “human” alternative to the stuffy aloof royals.

Diana rises in popularity because she hugs an African American boy with AIDS. The adoration she receives distresses Carmilla, who feels like she could never live up to her. Charles and Diana are victims of their forced nuptials.

Elizabeth II has found her footing and power as the Queen. At the beginning of the series, Queen Elizabeth II did not fully understand all of her duties or how the British government worked. Prime Minister Winston Churchill mentored her.

By now, Elizabeth is more experienced than her Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. She correctly guesses everybody who will be in Thatcher’s cabinet. Elizabeth has her opinions and sticks with them. Queen Elizabeth II and the Commonwealth of nations all want to place economic sanctions on South Africa for Apartheid. Margaret Thatcher refuses to sign the sanction because it would damage the UK’s economy. Queen Elizabeth II goes to war with Thatcher to get her to sign a document condemning South Africa.

The two sent the condemnation back and forth, arguing over the perfect alternative to the word “sanction.” She is no longer the inexperienced young woman who won’t stand up for her beliefs. Queen Elizabeth II fights for her people like unemployed interior decorator Michael Fagan. Fagan breaks into her bedroom in Buckingham Palace. He begs Elizabeth to speak to Margaret Thatcher about how her economic policies cause millions of Brits to lose work without any safety net. The Queen speaks to Michael with compassion and even wishes him good luck when he is arrested. Elizabeth even mentions his plight to Thatcher, but that is all she can legally do.

The Crown Season Four marks the end of the British Empire, the beginning of the unraveling of Prince Charles’ reputation, and the events that lead to Diana’s death.

#fanbolt #tv review #tv show #the crown #netflix #the crown netflix #queen elizabeth ll #olivia coleman #princess diana of wales #emma corrin #gillian anderson #margaret thatcher #british #the united kingdom #prince charles #lady diana spencer #review #blogger #feminist

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queerwelsh · 5 years

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LGBT+ History Month & Wales - Cymru & Mis Hanes LHDT+

This is a guest post I made for LGBT+ History Month 2018, on the National Library of Wales’s blog. (Welsh version below.)

Wales & LGBT+ History Month Wales & LGBT+ History Month For fifteen years, February has been regarded as the month to celebrate the histories of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer people, and anybody else who may fit into the LGBT+ umbrella. LGBT+ History Month 2018 has seen the most events in Wales yet – such as Pride Cymru’s event at the Senedd. From studying the LGBT History of Wales, I’ve found that the National Library is a hive of secondary and primary resources into Welsh LGBT Histories. Anyone who has used their archives will know it is a great resource to uncover personal histories – such as Welsh women’s histories. Similarly, Welsh LGBT+ people’s histories are still being uncovered. This month, or any other month, read the history of a Welsh LGBT+ person, celebrate them, and maybe help uncover the history of Welsh LGBT+ people. Here are fourteen key figures in Welsh LGBT+ history who can be researched at the National Library of Wales – to be celebrated this month, and hopefully to always be celebrated in Welsh history. 1. The Ladies of Llangollen are the most well-known Welsh LGBT+ figures. They were Sarah Ponsonby [1755-1831] and Eleanor Butler [1739-1829], two Irish women who escaped their family to live their lives together at Plas Newydd in Llangollen. Much has been written about them, which can be read at the National Library. Archives related to the Ladies at the Library include portraits, letters, facsimiles of their account books, electronic resources and other papers. NLW MS 21682C – Letters from Ladies of Llangollen NLW MS 23699E, ff. 135-137. – Letters of the Ladies of Llangollen NLW MS 23980F, ff. 24-25. – Ladies of Llangollen letters NLW MS 22768D. – Ladies of Llangollen letters Cardiff MS 2.908. – Ladies of Llangollen Bodrhyddan Estate Papers, Deeds and Documents 57 – Letter: Sarah Ponsonby to Miss Williams Wynn. Endorsed ‘Last Letter from Miss Ponsonby’ NLW Facs 18. – ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ account book NLW Facs 19. – ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ account book NLW MS 19697B. – A personal and household account book of the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ in the hand of Sarah Ponsonby Other writings on the Ladies includes accounts on them from the period, Ceridwen Lloyd-Morgan’s Papers of the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ and Susan Valladares’ article on Anne Lister’s meeting with the Ladies. 2. Katherine Philips [1631-1664] was an Anglo-Welsh poet who Norena Shopland has uncovered as ‘The Welsh Sappho.’ Philips is one of the earliest examples of poetry around her ‘romantic friendships.’ NLW MS 775B. – Katherine Philips poetry NLW MS 776B. – Katherine Philips poetry NLW Facs 739. – Katherine Philips poem NLW Films 943-6 – Katherine Philips Microfilms NLW MS 21702E. – Barddoniaeth amrywiol 3. Frances Power Cobbe [1822-1904] and Mary Charlotte Lloyd [1819-1896], like the Ladies of Llangollen lived in Wales together. Cobbe was a well-known suffragette, campaigner and writer – Mary Lloyd was a Welsh sculptor who lived as her partner. Sources on Lloyd are mainly from Cobbe’s writings. Minor Deposit 1309-15. – Manuscripts of Frances Power Cobbe of Hengwrt, Dolgellau, religious philosopher, &c NLW ex 1865-7 – Frances Power Cobbe Bequest 4. Sarah Jane Rees (Cranogwen) [1839-1916] was a writer, editor, sailor, lecturer, and editor of Y Frythones, and was in a lifelong lesbian relationship, as written by Jane Aaron in Queer Wales. Sarah Jane Rees (‘Cranogwen’) Cerddi i Maggie Eurona gan Cranogwen. NLW MS 23895A. – Anerchiad gan Cranogwen Sarah Jane Rees (‘Cranogwen’) poetry 5. Amy Dillwyn [1845-1935] was an industrialist and feminist who also published novels with lesbian and cross-dressing themes. The novels published by Honno, her biography David Painting and other writings about her by Kirsti Bohata can be read at the Library. Amy Dillwyn papers 6. Gwen John [1876-1939] is probably the most well-known female Welsh artist – less well-known is her relationships with women, such as Véra Oumançoff. Gwen John manuscripts 7. Margaret Haig Mackworth, 2nd Viscountess of Rhondda, [1883-1958] also had relationships with men and women and is well-known as a suffragette. Books by and about her (i.e. Angela John) can be found in the Library. 8. George E. J. Powell of Nanteos [1842-82], has been written about by Harry Heuser in Queer Wales and New Welsh Reader. NLW Facs 417. – Letters to George E. J. Powell, Nanteos Minor Deposits 1394-97. – Letters to George E. J. Powell from A.C. Swinburne 9. Nina Hamnett [1890-1956] was the ‘Queen of Bohemia,’ a bisexual artist from Wales who was linked to the Bloomsbury Group. Search Nina Hamnett in the catalogue. 10. Ivor Novello [1893-1951] was a popular 20th century entertainer from Cardiff. NLW MS 23204D. – Ivor Novello papers NLW MS 23696E. – Ivor Novello letters 11. Rhys Davies [1901-1978] Rhys Davies Papers 12. Kate Roberts [1891-1985], known as the Queen of our Literature, was married to Morris T. Williams [1900-1946], while he had an affair with Edward Prosser Rhys [1901-1945]. E. Prosser Rhys is best known for his winning poem ‘Atgof’ in the 1924 Eisteddfod, exploring his bisexual relationships. Alan Llwyd, in his autobiography of Roberts, theorised that she may have also been bisexual. Papurau Kate Roberts 13. Margiad Evans [1909-1958] was a novelist who again was married, but it is more well known that she had a relationship with Ruth Farr, while her novelists explore themes of sexuality. Her novels, manuscripts and autobiography are at the Library, as well as writings on her, such as by Ceridwen Lloyd-Morgan, and her archived papers and letters: NLW Facs 870 – Margiad Evans Diary NLW ex 2790 (i & ii) – Margiad Evans family papers Margiad Evans Papers Margiad Evans Manuscripts NLW MS 23893E. – Margiad Evans Letters NLW MS 23994F. – Poems by Margiad Evans 14. Jan Morris. [1926-] is a Welsh writer and historian, and trans woman. She wrote Conundrum on her experiences with gender transition, as well as books on Wales, and is an important and influential Welsh LGBT figure. Jan Morris Papers

There are many more LGBT+ people from Wales increasingly being written about in queer history and Welsh history. John Davies was a leading Welsh historian who was LGBT and Jeffrey Weeks is a leading sexuality historian from the Rhondda. Other sources used by Welsh LGBT historians, such as Shopland, are newspaper articles, such as those available through the Welsh Newspapers Online. Mair Jones, MA History of Wales, Aberystwyth University. Further Reading Osborne, Huw. Queer Wales. Shopland, Norena. Forbidden Lives. Tate, Tim. Pride. Weeks, Jeffrey. Icons & Allies.

Cymru & Mis Hanes LHDT+

Dyma gofnod gwadd gan Mair Jones.

Cymru & Mis Hanes LHDT+ Am bymtheg mlynedd, ystyriwyd mis Chwefror fel mis i ddathlu hanes pobl lesbiaidd, hoyw, deurywiol, trawsrywiol a queer, ac unrhyw un arall gall ffitio i’r ambarél LHDT+. Mae Mis Hanes LHDT+ 2018 wedi gweld y mwyaf o ddigwyddiadau yng Nghymru eto – fel digwyddiad Pride Cymru yn y Senedd

O astudio Hanes LHDT+ Cymru, rwyf wedi darganfod bod y Llyfrgell Genedlaethol yn llawn adnoddau cynradd ac eilradd Hanes LHDT+ Cymru. Bydd unrhyw un sydd wedi defnyddio eu archifau yn gwybod ei fod yn adnodd gwych i ddatgelu hanesion personol – fel hanesion menywod yng Nghymru. Mae hanesion pobl LHDT+ Cymru hefyd yn dal i gael eu datgelu. Mis yma, neu yn unrhyw fis arall, darllenwch darllen hanes person LHDT + Cymraeg, dathlwch, ac efallai helpwch i ddatgelu hanes pobl LHDT+ Cymru.

Dyma bedwar ar ddeg o ffigurau allweddol mewn hanes LHDT+ Cymru y gellir eu hymchwilio yn Llyfrgell Genedlaethol Cymru – i’w ddathlu’r mis hwn, a gobeithio o fewn hanes Cymru.

1. ‘Ladies of Llangollen.’ Rhain yw’r ffigyrau LHDT+ mwyaf adnabyddus o Gymru. Yr oeddent yn Sarah Ponsonby [1755-1831] ac Eleanor Butler [1739-1829], dwy fenyw Gwyddelig a wnaeth ddianc o’u teuluoedd i fyw eu bywydau gyda’i gilydd ym Mhlas Newydd yn Llangollen. Ysgrifennwyd llawer amdanynt y gellir eu darllen yn y Llyfrgell Genedlaethol. Mae archifau sy’n gysylltiedig iddynt yn cynnwys portreadau, llythyrau, ffacsimilïau o’u llyfrau cyfrif, adnoddau electronig a phapurau eraill. NLW MS 21682C – Letters from Ladies of Llangollen NLW MS 23699E, ff. 135-137. – Letters of the Ladies of Llangollen NLW MS 23980F, ff. 24-25. – Ladies of Llangollen letters NLW MS 22768D. – Ladies of Llangollen letters Cardiff MS 2.908. – Ladies of Llangollen Bodrhyddan Estate Papers, Deeds and Documents 57 – Letter: Sarah Ponsonby [one of ‘The Ladies of Llangollen’] to Miss Williams Wynn. Endorsed ‘Last Letter from Miss Ponsonby’ NLW Facs 18. – ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ account book NLW Facs 19. – ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ account book NLW MS 19697B. – A personal and household account book of the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ in the hand of Sarah Ponsonby Mae ysgrifau eraill arnynt yn cynnwys cyfrifon ohonynt o’r amser, Papers of the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’ gan Ceridwen Lloyd-Morgan ac erthygl Susan Valladares arnynt yn gyfarfod Anne Lister.

2. Roedd Katherine Philips [1631-1664] yn fardd Anglo-Gymreig y mae Norena Shopland wedi darganfod fel y ‘Welsh Sappho.’ Mae Philips yn un o’r enghreifftiau cynharaf o farddoniaeth o gwmpas ‘gyfeillgarwch rhamantus’. NLW MS 775B. – Katherine Philips poetry NLW MS 776B. – Katherine Philips poetry NLW Facs 739. – Katherine Philips poem NLW Films 943-6 – Katherine Philips Microfilms NLW MS 21702E. – Barddoniaeth amrywiol

3. Roedd Frances Power Cobbe [1822-1904] a Mary Charlotte Lloyd [1819-1896], fel Ponsonby a Butler, yn byw yng Nghymru gyda’i gilydd. Roedd Cobbe yn swffraget adnabyddus, ac awdur – roedd Mary Lloyd yn gerflunydd o Gymru a oedd yn byw gyda’i fel ei phartner. Mae’r ffynonellau ar Lloyd yn bennaf o ysgrifau Cobbe. Minor Deposit 1309-15. – Manuscripts of Frances Power Cobbe of Hengwrt, Dolgellau, religious philosopher, &c NLW ex 1865-7 – Frances Power Cobbe Bequest

4. Roedd Sarah Jane Rees (Cranogwen) [1839-1916] yn awdur, golygydd, morwr, darlithydd, a golygydd Y Frythones, ac roedd mewn perthynas lesbiaidd gydol oes, fel y ysgrifennwyd gan Jane Aaron yn Queer Wales. Sarah Jane Rees (‘Cranogwen’) Cerddi i Maggie Eurona gan Cranogwen NLW MS 23895A. – Anerchiad gan Cranogwen Sarah Jane Rees (‘Cranogwen’) poetry

5. Roedd Amy Dillwyn [1845-1935] yn ddiwydiannydd a ffeminist a gyhoeddodd nofelau â themâu lesbiaidd a chroes-wisgo. Gellir darllen y nofelau a gyhoeddwyd gan Honno, ei chofiad gan David Painting ac ysgrifenniadau eraill amdani gan Kirsti Bohata yn y Llyfrgell. Amy Dillwyn papers

6. Mae’n debyg mai Gwen John [1876-1939] yw’r artist benywaidd mwyaf adnabyddus yng Nghymru – llai adnabyddus yw ei pherthynas â merched, fel Véra Oumançoff. Gwen John manuscripts

7. Cafodd Margaret Haig Mackworth, 2il Is-iarll Rhondda, [1883-1958] hefyd berthnasoedd â dynion a merched ac mae’n adnabyddus fel swffraget. Gellir dod o hyd i lyfrau amdani (h.y. gan Angela John) a ganddi yn y Llyfrgell.

8. Mae George Powell o Nanteos [1842-82] a’i rhywioldeb wedi cael ei ysgrifennu amdano gan Harry Heuser yn Queer Wales ac mae nifer o’i ysgrifau i’w darllen yn y Llyfrgell. NLW Facs 417. – Letters to George E. J. Powell, Nanteos Minor Deposits 1394-97. – Letters to George E. J. Powell from A.C. Swinburne

9. Nina Hamnett [1890-1956] oedd y ‘Queen of Bohemia,’ artist deurhywiol o Gymru oedd yn gysylltiedig a’r Grwp Bloomsbury.

10. Ivor Novello [1893-1951] NLW MS 23204D. – Ivor Novello papers NLW MS 23696E. – Ivor Novello letters

11. Rhys Davies [1901-1978] Rhys Davies Papers

12. Roedd Kate Roberts [1891-1985], a elwir yn Frenhines ein Llên, yn briod â Morris T. Williams [1900-1946], tra bu ganddo berthynas ag Edward Prosser Rhys [1901-1945]. Mae E. Prosser Rhys yn adnabyddus am ei gerdd fuddugol ‘Atgof’ yn Eisteddfod 1924, amdano ei berthnasoedd ddeurywiol. Teimlai Alan Llwyd, yn ei hunangofiant Roberts, ei bod hi hefyd wedi bod yn ddeurywiol. Papurau Kate Roberts

13. Roedd Margiad Evans [1909-1958] yn nofelydd a oedd eto’n briod, ond mae’n fwy adnabyddus bod ganddi berthynas â Ruth Farr, tra bod ei nofelau yn archwilio themâu rhywioldeb. Mae ei nofelau, ei lawysgrifau a’i hunangofiant yn y Llyfrgell, yn ogystal ag ysgrifennu arni, fel gan Ceridwen Lloyd-Morgan, a’i phapurau a’i llythyrau archif. NLW Facs 870 – Margiad Evans Diary NLW ex 2790 (i & ii) – Margiad Evans family papers Margiad Evans Papers Margiad Evans Manuscripts NLW MS 23893E. – Margiad Evans Letters NLW MS 23994F. – Poems by Margiad Evans

14. Mae Jan Morris [1926-] yn awdur a hanesydd Cymreig. Ysgrifennodd lyfr ar ei phrofiadau yn bod yn trawsryweddol yn ogystal â hanesion Cymru, ac mae’n ffigwr pwysig a dylanwadol LHDT+ Cymru. Jan Morris Papers

Mae yna llawer mwy o bobl LHDT + o Gymru yn cael eu hysgrifennu’n gynyddol mewn hanes queer a hanes Cymru. Roedd John Davies yn hanesydd blaenllaw yng Nghymru a oedd yn LHDT ac mae Jeffrey Weeks yn hanesydd rhywioldeb blaenllaw o’r Rhondda. Mae ffynonellau eraill a ddefnyddiwyd gan haneswyr LHDT Cymru, megis Shopland, yn erthyglau papur newydd, fel y rhai sydd ar gael trwy Bapurau Newydd Cymru Arlein

Mair Jones, MA Hanes Cymru, Prifysgol Aberystwyth.

Darllen pellach: Osborne, Huw. Queer Wales. Shopland, Norena. Forbidden Lives. Tate, Tim. Pride. Weeks, Jeffrey.

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takadasaiko · 5 years

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Second Chances: Chapter Six

FFN II AO3

Summary: Steve has every intention of returning the Infinity Stones to their correct place in the timeline and heading back to his own. His problems start when he makes an impulse decision to jump over to 1946 and Peggy decides to go back home with him. It only gets more complicated from there when Howard tags along with them to 2023. Tony lives fix-it fic. Pepperony.

Chapter Summary: Steve tries to figure out how to best handle the situation without admitting to Tony that he's brought not one but two people from the past into 2024.

Chapter Six

Howard had always liked a good challenge, and convincing Steve and Peggy that he had reluctantly given up on the idea of going with them had certainly been one. Peg lived in a state of suspicion with him - especially after his fib over the vile a few weeks before - and Steve had called him on his tendency to misdirect and straight out lie more than once during the War. He had been questioning when the ruse would be up, but now the question seemed to be which one of them would take a swing first. Howard lifted his hands in defense. "It's not nearly as bad as you're thinking it is."

"No, it's worse," Steve snapped.

"How? You talk to your buddy - Tony, right? The one that set you up with that suit - and he'll be able to send me back to the same day I left. No biggie. I'll even get to deliver Peg's letter."

He glanced over to find Peggy massaging the bridge of her nose, all of the earlier joy and excitement completely washed out of her. "That's never been the issue Howard. I'm staying, but if you go back seeing all of the advancements, everything that could suddenly have Starkon it rather than whatever name should have been attached —"

"Ouch, Peg. You think I'm here to, what? Steal technology? Like I can't come up with my own?"

"You don't have to steal anything to alter your own timeline in ways that can't-"

"Like taking Peggy from it?" Howard cut Steve off, the amusement no longer lining his voice. He'd expected pushback and plenty of eye rolling, maybe even a swing in his direction, but this was rich coming from them. "Yeah, neither of you have a lot of wiggle room on that one. I'm not going to destroy time and space by being here. Not how it works. Hell, I could meet myself and three generations after me and all it'd do is make for a potentially awkward situation." He pulled in a breath, trying to reel in the burst of temper along with it. "I just want to see it. Walk through Manhattan and then I'll go home like I was never here at all. You've seen it, Peg gets to see it…. All I'm doin' is asking for a chance to peek through the curtain. That's it. No harm done, I swear."

The breeze pushing at the trees overhead was the only sound for a long moment as both Cap and Peggy stared at him. Finally Steve loosed a breath. "We'll have to get ahold of a couple of people to make it happen."

"See, not so bad," Howard responded, his tone light again.

Cap didn't look entirely convinced as he pushed forward. "C'mon."

Peggy followed immediately, falling into lockstep with him. Howard waited half a beat before hurrying to join them. Well, it hadn't been smooth, but at least he'd made it.

___________

The first thing he did was grab a newspaper. June 2024. Okay. That wasn't…. terrible. Not great, but not terrible. He'd been gone just a little under a year then, even though it had only been a couple of weeks for him. That added complications, sure, but at least it wasn't decades this time.

Steve had no idea if his apartment would have been leased to someone else, but that was his second stop. If he were lucky - really lucky - the key would be….. there.

"Checkin' to see if the maid cleaned while you were away?" Howard popped off behind him as Steve ran his fingers along the top of the trimming around the door. He held up the key that he found there and Howard chuckled, lifting his hands in defeat.

Steve fit the key into the lock and turned, hearing the mechanisms shift and the lock slide out of place. He turned the knob and pushed inward. He was met immediately by the muted sound of the television. He was sure he didn't leave one on. Mostly because he didn't even own one when he'd left.

"Someone kept it up," Peggy said cautiously and Steve made a small sound of acknowledgement.

He was halfway to telling Howard to wait outside when the creek of the old, pre-war apartment's floor sounded a warning and Peggy shouted as Steve spun, meeting his attacker to block the blow aimed at him. Both men froze and he found a set of dark eyes on him. "I'll be damned," Sam Wilson managed. "Cap. You're back."

His lips tilted at the corners and he lowered his defenses. "Yeah, Sam. I'm back."

"With friends," the other man said uncertainly, motioning to Peggy and Howard.

Steve cleared his throat. "Yeah…. Sam, this is Peggy Carter and Howard….. Stark."

The younger man's expression inched towards amusement. "Hell, Cap. He's gonna kill you."

Steve didn't even have to ask who he was. He was well aware. "Yeah, I know. I, uh…. We're going to fix it. I'd rather let him know after we get Howard back to the past."

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "So…. she's staying?"

"She is," Peggy grumbled, obviously irritated at being talked about without being included.

"But he's not?"

Steve could feel the tension building in the room between the questions and the lack of names and the overall vagueness that wouldn't set well with anyone. Peggy had squared her shoulders next to him and Howard…. okay apparently the tension was all Peggy. Howard was halfway into the apartment. His fingers drifted over the TV that Sam must have brought with him when he'd taken over Steve's lease, dark eyes wide as he explored every inch.

The inventor crouched down in front of the entertainment center, fixated. "Is this a television?" he managed, and Steve was sure he'd never heard his old friend impressed until that moment. Great. The twenty-first century was going to give Tony's father an aneurysm and there'd be no sending him back. That'd be about the way things played out.

"Yeah…" Sam answered uncertainly.

"And these?" Howard asked, pointing at a collection of various boxes below the TV.

"Uhh… Blu Ray player and gaming systems." He turned to look directly at Steve. "Am I allowed to tell him that?"

"I'm not sure he'd give up until you did," Steve huffed and kept a wary eye on Howard as he continued to explore like a child on Christmas morning shaking gifts under the tree.

"So," Peggy cut in. "Sam, was it?"

"Wilson," Sam acknowledged, reaching a hand out to shake her. "And you are the Peggy Carter. Co-founder of SHIELD."

"Not anymore," she said tensely.

"In our timeline you are. Still makes you damn impressive. Ma'am."

She cracked a small smile at that and Steve found his friend's gaze back in him. "We thought you were gone."

"I took a detour."

"I can see that."

"And you moved into my place."

Sam looked sheepish. "We knew how long it took you to secure a place in Brooklyn that wasn't crazy expensive, and it just…. we couldn't let just anybody take it."

"We?" Steve echoed.

"You've missed a lot in the last few months."

A loud crash sounded off from the kitchen and the three vets jumped, all ready for a fight. Howard peeked around the corner from the kitchen. "Everything's good. It's fine. No irreparable harm done. You weren't attached to those big red bowls, were you, Sammy?"

Sam paled slightly. "You broke my popcorn bowl?!"

___________

There was a shrill squeal that accompanied the five-year-old piling into the middle of the bed. Tony was halfway to sitting before his sleep-addled mind pieced together what was happening. He heard Pepper groan at his side and he reached up blindly, catching Morgan's around the shoulders with his arm and dragging her down into a hug she couldn't pull out of. Morgan squirmed and giggled, but her daddy had her locked into the bear hug, a smile tilting his lips even though his eyes were still closed

"Daddy! Let goooooo."

"Nope. I'm sleeping."

"No you're not!"

"Uh-huh."

"Nu-uh!"

"How did I end up with two kids?" Pepper groaned, and before Tony knew it there was a pillow being awkwardly smacked in their general direction.

"Pillow fight!" Morgan announced.

"Tony, I swear if you let her up —" his wife warned, but he was already loosing his grip.

"What can I say, hon? She's just too good. Regular contortionist. There's no holding her."

Morgan went after her mom first, Pepper laughing as she shielded her face. It wasn't long until she turned on her father too, and the Stark household dissolved into giggly chaos. By the end up it Tony was standing on the bed, feet sinking into the memory foam mattress, and in a standoff with his daughter.

"Drop your weapon or face Iron Girl!" Morgan announced in all seriousness and Tony had to swallow the burst of laughter.

"I thought you'd be at least thirteen before I became the villain. What'd I do?"

"Jumped on the bed and taught our daughter terrible habits," Pepper deadpanned from the bathroom that she had retreated to in order to stay as far away from the waging war as possible.

"You tried to blow up the world," Morgan told him matter-of-factly.

"Wow. I am bad. You're right," he said with a grin.

"I'm gonna beat you!" Morgan announced and threw the pillow, adding sound effects that sounded at least vaguely like the energy beams from the Iron Man suit.

The cube of fluff hit his shins and Tony made a show of going down, bouncing against the bed and flopping out. He felt Morgan creep closer and he cracked an eye open. "You saved the world. Good job, kiddo."

She grinned, showing off her newly missing tooth. "Can I have cinnamon toast for breakfast?"

"Definitely." He scooped her up on his way to rolling off the bed. "Pep, you want an omelet?"

"Just a smoothie. Do we have spinach?" she called from the bathroom.

"We do."

"With banana, please."

"I think I can manage that."

"No strawberries!"

"I know!" he chuckled as he slipped his feet into his slippers, flexing the fingers of his right hand. Stiff and a little slow, they still moved on command, even without the brace. It had been a full week since he'd had to use it, Peter's altered formula for Extremis proving to do the job without leaving his brain itching for more. The kid was good, he had to give him that. The real test would come when the nerve damage was fully repaired and he completely cut himself off from the localized doses. All he would have to rely on was the glowing ARC reactor in his chest to keep his heart beating, but that was hardly abnormal. Strangely enough it had almost been like welcoming back an old friend.

"Boss, Peter Parker is calling in," FRIDAY's voice echoed as Tony and Morgan made it down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"What's the kid doing up at this hour?"

"Fighting bad guys?" Morgan offered.

"Maybe. If so, he missed curfew and his aunt's gonna kill him."

"What's curfew?"

Tony glanced down, finding a big pair of brown eyes latched curiously on him. The questions never ended and he loved it. "When you need to be home," he explained to his daughter. "FRIDAY, put him through."

There was a click of the call connecting as Tony grabbed for the ingredients he needed, Morgan hopping from a stool to the table top and sitting there. She started to cross her legs on the table, but one look from her dad stopped that in its tracks. She gave him the most innocent grin he was sure he'd ever seen. He shot her a look. "Halo's a little crooked there, missy."

"Mr Stark?" Peter's uncertain voice echoed over the speakers.

"Good morning, Pete. You're up early."

"You too."

"If I told you I wasn't would you feel guilty?"

There was a long pause on the other end. "But FRIDAY wouldn't have…. you're joking aren't you?"

"Yup." Tony started sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on the bread. "What's up, kid?"

"Oh, uh…. hows's the new dose working out? Still lasting?"

"So far so good, but I doubt you called me at six in the morning to find that out."

"Daddy, more cinnamon," Morgan instructed and be quirked an eyebrow before dumping more on. She gave a nod of approval.

"Not that I don't like hearing from you, kid, but —"

"CaptainRogersisback."

It took a long moment for his pre-caffeinated brain to work through the run-together words, and even as he did he had trouble believing them. His hands stilled, his eyes unblinking. "What?"

"Captain Rogers is back," Peter said again, slower this time.

"Back?"

"Yeah."

"How…? And how long?"

"I don't know the details. I shouldn't even be telling you…."

"Like hell you shouldn't," Tony growled. "Where'd you hear it?"

"Uhhh….. through the Avengers grapevine."

Avengers grapevine? What did that even mean? Tony hadn't been thatfar out of the loop. "Where is he?"

"His place. In Brooklyn. From what I heard," Peter said, his voice entirely uncertain.

Tony pulled in a steadying breath. "Okay. I'll get to the bottom of it. Just…." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Peter didn't need any other pressure on him right then. "Thanks, kid. You did good."

"Really? I didn't break some kind of code or something, did I?"

"Probably, but you kept the one that mattered. I'll be in the city today. I'll drop by and we can talk after you're out of school."

"I'm… on summer break?"

"Right. Okay. Good. After I get done one Brooklyn."

"Do you need the address?"

"No, I've got it." He glanced up at the speaker. "End call."

"Is Uncle Steve in trouble?" Morgan asked from the table.

"He's got some explaining to do," her father grumbled.

"Can he explain after you make cinnamon toast?"

Tony blinked at the half put together breakfast he'd promised his daughter. "Yeah, sweetie. Uncle Steve can wait."

___________

It was one delay after another. First breakfast, then Pepper decided she needed to go into the city that day too, so instead of hopping in the car and going, Tony was waiting on his wife and daughter to get ready. She could tell him all day long that she needed to go into the office for this or that, but she hadn't let him drive the two hours from their cabin into the city alone since they had moved back out. He had the OK from every doctor that mattered saying that he could drive again, but that didn't seem to satisfy her. What if something happened? It was a lingering, albeit unspoken fear, and as much as he would like to he couldn't quite hold it against her. Or tell her no. It was one less thing she had to worry about, even if he knew he was doing better than he had been in a long time.

"Do we get to see Pete?" Morgan asked as she bounded down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to go.

"Yep. After I talk to Uncle Steve."

"Can I see Uncle Steve too?"

"Why don't we let your daddy talk to him first? You can help me at the office," Pepper offered and she looked ready for a board meeting. Maybe she really had been planning to go in that day.

Morgan made a face at the idea and Tony reached out to ruffle her hair. "I won't be long."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You ready?" Pepper asked as she grabbed the key fob from the ring by the door.

"Any chance you'll let me drive?"

Surprisingly enough she tossed the key his way and he reached up, thankful that his fingers chose to wrap around it rather than let it clatter to the floor. If it was a test or not really didn't matter. He felt like he'd won something in that. One more small step forward.

The trip was filled with Morgan's chatter in and around Pepper filling him in on the meetings she had scheduled for that day. Happy would meet her there and make sure Morgan wouldn't be too bored. Tony was sure that their head of security just lovedthe idea of being put on babysitting duty.

By the time he dropped them off at their New York headquarters plans had changed five times before finally settling on calling Peter to come keep her occupied. He left the situation in the best of hands before turning the Audii towards Brooklyn, his mind racing in the fresh silence. They had told him that Cap hadn't made it back, which they had all taken to mean that something had happened to him. What, they couldn't be sure, but popping back up nearly a year later didn't make any sense. Not telling Tony that he was back made even less. He had thought that, after everything, they were good. When he had left they had been good.

Tony pulled the car up to an apartment building that he'd never seen in person. It was old. Pre-war. Just the type Cap would have gone for. Sam Wilson had moved into it when Cap hadn't come back, so he must know that Steve was home. Who was next in the so-called Avengers grapevine was anybody's best guess. He still wasn't sure how Peter had found out, and he'd been too surprised that morning to press the kid on it.

A tap came at his window and Tony jumped in his seat, turning to find a patrol cop leaned down. "You lost, buddy?" he asked, but as Tony rolled the window down he watched surprise take hold.

"Nah, I'm good. Just here to see a friend."

"Holy crap. You're Iron Man."

"Used to be."

"I heard what you did…. everybody did. Are those —"

He was motioning to the scars that lined the right side of Tony's face and the former Avenger immediately opened the door. "'Scuse me, but I'm already late. You mind?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, sure. Listen, if it's not too much trouble, my son is a huge fan of yours."

Tony offered a thin smile. "Sure, what's his name?"

A scrawled signature and photo later Tony was on his way up the flights of stairs, feeling it by the time he reached Cap's floor.

He stopped at the door, pulling in a shaky breath and steadying himself. It was fine. He'd get answers and that irritating, nagging feeling of being purposefully left in the dark would dissipate. Cap was always annoyingly consistent in having his reasons for doing things. He reached up, ready to tap against the door as it pulled open from the inside.

Suddenly Steve Rogers was standing right in front of him, a look of surprise plastered on his face. "Tony," he breathed, a little guilt around the edges of his name.

"Knew you were forgetting to tell someone something, huh?" Tony tried for a quip.

"Steve, is really like to see —" The woman who owned the voice rounded the corner and slammed to a stop. "Oh. Hello."

Steve sucked in a breath. "Tony, this is —"

"Peggy Carter," Tony finished for him, the first real smile touching his lips since that morning. "This is all making a lot more sense."

"You're not mad?"

The question sounded too small to be coming out of Captain America's mouth and Tony cracked a grin as he stepped into the apartment. "Well, you're not gonna shatter time and space, I don't think. I'm sure her new timeline will find a way to compensate." He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You deserve a little happiness after everything. I get it, Cap."

A rush of air left the older man. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that."

"That doesn't mean I'm not gonna hold this over your head until one of us finally bites the dust."

"Cap, did you say Tony? Your inventor friend?" a voice called out and Tony looked over. That voice sounded like —

"Holy shit," Tony breathed as Howard Stark rounded the corner.

___________

TBC

Notes: And to think I thought this chapter was going to be on the short side... I had a lot of fun with this one. Pepperony fluff, Iron Fam, and Tony realizing that Steve not only brought one person back from the 40's, but two... the other being his dad. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time lol Even more so the next chapter.

Next Time: Tony tries to process what's going on and Steve asks for help.

#Endgame fix it fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Howard Stark #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #Morgan Stark #Peter Parker

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