#Queen Anne necklines are Good

[realcatalina]

Hope this works : https://i.pinimg.com/564x/40/e6/eb/40e6eb52d24dee59e597ca00f46bcddd.jpg

Original ask:People keep saying this is Frances Brandon, but looking at the fashion and the features of the sitter, I feel it's Katherine of Aragon instead. What are your thoughts?

(we didnt have the photo originally, but now i can finally answer this).

-My first observation regarding this painting is that it cannot be Francis Brandon, because she was born in 1517. This is 1500s or 1510s fashion of Netherlands. No way she could be depicted in fashion which is from before she was even born!

On wikipedia it is labelled Portrait of Agniete van den Rijne, atributed to Joos van Cleve, located in Rijksmuseum Twenthe in Enschede, in Netherlands. And as being painted in 1st half of 16th century.

On webpage of the museum, it is labelled as Unknown woman in c.1515. I suspect it could be bit earlier(split gown, large hanging chains)-my guess would be late 1500s, max early 1510s. But my chronology of netherlandish fashion was based upon court fashion. And neckline this low is consistent with some parts of Habsburg Netherlands, but not the court. So I could be bit off. But either way-1500s or 1510s imo. Not Francis Brandon. She wasnt even born when this was in fashion.

As for Catherine of Aragon.

Not that she couldnt wear netherlandish fashion(Sittow's portrait)-but a)when she did wear it, it was same fashion as in court.

b) what cut photos deliberately left out, is that this painting has its original frame...which includes coat of arms.

And experts believe this coat of arms to be original.

They havent been able to identify it nor of the man matching the woman. But clearly not Catherine's coat of arms.

Also the focus here is on grapes-its fruit, its leaves and vines.

It is symbol of fertility and prosperity, as well as having several more meanings in christianity, but as far as i know never asociated with Catherine of Aragon specifically. And there is literally nothing to suggest it is her.

I agree that there is resemblence, but there is issue. The artist was skilled. So why upon closer inspection the nose looks so differently than hers?

Catherine's nose tip seemed to be pointing more up and it was not as large. With some people-for example Margaret of Austria, size of nose changes as they age(due to health issues). However Catherine even in mid 1520s, still has narrow nose with tip basically same as in her youth.

Angle might play part a bit...but imo it is simply different nose.

The resemblence alone cannot drive identification. Not only do we not have single major clue pointing towards Catherine, we have major clue against her(coat of arms). Also Henry was likely painted by the artist when he met Francis I at Calais-with Anne Boleyn. The artist was asociated a lot with Francis, but never proven to travel to England or to take comissions from English royal court...aside that one meeting.

I am sorry, it is not Catherine of Aragon.

I am as upset as you guys that we don't have any surviving portrait of her from 1510s, and that many portraits we only know from not so great copies.

To find more lost originals, looking through art of artists which painted relatives of the person is indeed very good strategy. It pays off in many cases. Unfortuntely not in case of Joos van Cleve.

But it might be good idea to look up painters employed by Charles V and by Francis I in 1520-because Catherine met both that year.

Henry and Charles even had joined portraits made back then.

So there is indeed potential that some portrait of Catherine was created and it might have went with visitor. And it could have been another joined portrait because Charles didnt visit alone but with Germaine of Foix.

Problem is, the most likely thing for Catherine to wear in any portrait as Queen of England is gable hood- headwear unique to England. For her portraits to not be noticed, they would either have to be overpainted/altered, misidentified, misdated or even all three.

Another option is that upon meeting Charles that she wore spanish fashion. If she got painted in that, she wouldnt be that likely to be recognized.

Or maybe we need to broaden our idea of what Catherine wore.

So my dears, the hunt is still on.

[drac-onion]

Beneath Their Masks Chapter 5 is Up!

Chapter 5! I really like this one and the one that follows this. There are going to be a couple chapters that take place around the same time and/or are continuations of each other. This one was definitely difficult to write without making characters seem OOC. Also, holy shit, I learned more about dresses and dress terms writing this than I have in my entire life. It was definitely...interesting. Well, I hope it's good! (I say, being the person that wrote it...)

Ann made her way to the coffee table, picking up the remote to turn up the TV. As the smooth jazz tune grew louder, Ann heard the bedroom door open out of her sight.

“Hey Makoto, didn’t you see this artist live at that jazz clu-” Ann started, turning towards the bedroom door.

Ann dropped the remote. It clattered to the floor, bouncing under the sofa.

Makoto was standing in the doorway. She wore a dress that held an undeniable aura of authority and sophistication, but with a sharp edge of sensuality. Black like a moonless night, the dress clung to Makoto’s body like a shadow, both complementing and accentuating her statuesque figure.

The bodice was covered in intricate embroidery that formed delicate feathery shapes. The neckline plunged deeply, further sharpening the dress’s sensual nature. The long sleeves cascaded down her arms like inky waterfalls, loose near the wrist, but tight enough near her upper arms to print Makoto’s toned muscle.

As Makoto stepped further into the living room, the hem of the dress trailed behind her. The gold hem stitches caught the low and warm lighting that engulfed the entire room. Ann could distinctly hear the clack of heels with each step.

Makoto’s aura was different. Ann couldn’t place her finger on what exactly was different, but she seemed like a completely new person. She wasn’t just Makoto Niijima, high school student, and younger sister to Sae Niijima, esteemed public prosecutor. She was Makoto Niijima, Ann’s girlfriend. No, Ann’s Queen.

[kiatheinsomniac]

I posted 7,680 times in 2022

That's 7,051 more posts than 2021!

879 posts created (11%)

6,801 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@edensrose

@involuntaryspasms

@asscrackcreed

@tiefliing

@annatars-rings

I tagged 1,501 of my posts in 2022

#from my other blog - 152 posts

#assassins creed x reader - 116 posts

#assassins creed - 93 posts

#q: gardening in the shire - 87 posts

#assassins creed fanfiction - 87 posts

#assassins creed fanfic - 81 posts

#ezio auditore x reader - 52 posts

#q: resting in the café theatre - 52 posts

#jacob frye x reader - 50 posts

#arno dorian x reader - 49 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#this took me sooooooo long to finish and that’s because after each line i read i would scream into my hands and go insane for a little bit

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hello! Hope you're staying hydrated ♡ Can I request a fluffy scenario of Howl and reader in a flower garden? Reader decides to make different flower accessories to give to Howl (flower crown, bracelet, rings, etc.) Hope you have a great timezone and stay safe!!

Thank you for the kind words! I've had a headache since 6AM (now 9PM:( ) so I've been drinking plenty today! And this is such a sweet scenario, I couldn't wait to write it! Also if picking flowers with Howl had a soundtrack, it would be Strawberry Blonde on repeat and I can't elaborate, it just makes sense in my head.

Wildflowers

The sun beat down on your back, warming you through your white summer dress but not unpleasantly so. The dress had been chosen for you by Howl and was covered in a micro-floral print of dusty pink roses, violet forget-me-nots and their little green leaves. It hugged your chest and became loose below your breasts. The neckline was square and the sleeves puffed around your upper arms, stopping just shy of your elbows.

Your fingers were wrapping oxeye daisies, Queen Anne's lace and bachelor's buttons into a crown which you reached over to set upon Howl's dark, braided hair. You smiled proudly at your work, little violets woven into his small braids that you had woven yourself.

He turned around to face you with a smile tugging at his lips.

"How do I look?" He teased, leaning forwards so that your noses brushed against each other, breath fanning gently against your lips.

"Like a flower prince." You replied with a grin, closing the distance between the two of you as you sweetly pressed your lips to his, feeling his fingers come to rest beneath your skin you pulled back and began plucking up more flowers with your fingers, picking out some buttercups and beginning to weave them into a simple ring.

Meanwhile, Howl laid down with his head resting on your lap, making you smile down at him and he held his hand up to block the sun from his eyes so that he could look up at you, his other hand coming up so that the backs of his fingers could gently graze against the softness of your cheek.

You didn't miss the adoration in his eyes as he looked upon you and you returned the look in full, taking his hand from your cheek to try and slide the floral ring onto his finger. However, Howl stopped you and took the little ring from your hand, sliding it onto your finger instead.

"Perhaps I can get you a real one, one day." He mused and you felt your breath catch in your throat, heart fluttering in your chest like the wings of the butterflies in your stomach, "Gold or silver... Y/n Pendragon..." You felt your fingertips tremble in excitement, unable to hide the wide smile that rested upon your lips.

"Do you mean it?" You asked in a whisper and his face softened, assuring you of his love with a single look.

"Of course I do..." And he chuckled lightly at the force which you used to dive down and cup his cheeks, lips crashing onto his passionately with the smell of the sweet wildflowers surrounding the two of you.

780 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

#4

My favourite part of Hadestown is straight up how Orpheus, being told to leave, just goes “I’ll sing a song so good, it’ll fix your marriage”

844 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

#3

hello!! would i be able to request a howl x reader smut with comfort sex + howl being a soft dom? ty!!

Of course you can! I also got your other message about making this headcanons, don't worry xx

NSFW below cut

You didn't handle stress well. At all. As your lover, Howl knew this well.

So, during these times, he made sure to be extra attentive to you.

Touches against your waist, lower back, hands petting your head, doing more of the chores for you until whatever task that was stressing you out had been completed.

He took careful care to pamper you: bringing you meals as you worked, encouraging you (sometimes quite firmly) to drink enough water, when you woke, he would pick out your outfit for you while you got out of bed, he'd pull you away from your work at mealtimes and then make sure that you took a break after eating.

And you adored the care that he showered you with, it make you feel truly loved and loved and looked after.

He was successful in helping to relieve you of some of your stress, making it much easier for you to manage.

And he never let you stay up late into the night working, insisting that a poor night's sleep would only make your next day feel so much worse.

Oh and when you're finding it hard to fall asleep with how stressed you are?

He's coaxing you to stop tossing and turning with his body pinning yours down, ringed fingers skimming down your sides

He leaves little room for you to argue with how convincing he is

He's shushing you gently, holding you down into whatever position he's lifted you in "Let me do all the work... You're doing great... Being so good for me..."

And really when he's sweet-talking you like that, you can't find it in you to argue, especially not when it feels like a reward after your day of working

And when your tense muscles simply won't relax, you don't fail to notice the little wave of what feels like electricity flowing through your blood and then causing you to unwind with a relieved sigh.

No, he was not opposed to using magic to make sure that his lover could get the relaxation they deserve

Howl strikes me as the type to want to bury his head between your thighs, ESPECIALLY if you're holding his hair back for him: pull it, stroke it, hold it back into a ponytail, whatever you do with it, he'll reward your touch

When he's leaning over you, you curl your fingers around the golden chain of his necklace and tug ever so softly on it in a silent plead for him to lean down and kiss you

Praise, praise, praise!

He wants you to really feel the rewards of your hard work (there's nothing worse than stressing and working and stressing and feeling like you're getting nothing in return) so he makes sure that you know how proud he is of you, how much he admires your hard work and your drive to succeed

He'll start soft and gentle but really the aim here is to please you and wear you out simultaneously so he only gets harsher in pace as the night carries on

Telling you more sweet things such as "You're taking me so well", "Taking your reward so well", "Let me look after you"

He wants to make sure that you never feel that your efforts go unnoticed because he knows that you would never allow him to feel such a way

1,023 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#2

notes: a request from @redeemer46 'some down and dirty Alucard smut would be equally appreciated. One shot if you have the time.' My love for fangs really jumped out in this one AHAHA and I'm glad to have the chance to write a chase scene with him - who would pass up the opportunity to be disadvantaged in a chase with a vampire? Not me <3

pairing: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader

word count: 5.7k

warnings: NSFW content, smut, fang kink, hand kink, praise kink, riding, missionary

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

A chase through the castle

See the full post

1,053 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hello, it's me again 💀

Can I have something NSFW with Thranduil x Human!Reader + “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”?

Thank you!

See the full post

1,221 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[imeverywoman420]

re: ur latest post ur so right. I have big boobs and im short :( i really hate my body shape because rarely anything ever gives me a flattering silhouette

do u have any tips?? I trust ur taste immensely pls help :(

Buy tight crop tops because theyll fit you like a normal shirt. Thats how you avoid having like. Fucken. 5 inches of shirt hanging off your ass.

Honestly give up on shorts now. Find a few pairs of plain cotton biker shorts, MAYBE a sturdy pair of denim shorts that arent tooooo high waisted. A good pair of black biker shorts will be your only friend in this cruel world. But shorts are not for women like us. Short big boob women. Seriously. Let it go. Not gonna happen.

Only buy things cinched at the waist or that have bones. Princess seams. Fake corseting. Milkmaid tops. Empire waistline.

Midi skirts > maxi and mini skirt. Mini skirt will fit you weird and maxi skirt will drag. Go ahead and get a skirt that fits just above the knee, just below it or mid calf.

Square neckline is the best bet. Also queen anne, bateau, sabrina and straight necklines. Id avoid scoop necks.

Wrap dresses and wrap tops. Period.

Find about AT LEAST 5-6 bottoms you like. Skirts pants etc doesnt matter. Cling to them. There will be years where you will not be able to find anything made for short women in stores. You have to stock up on some that go with everything to prepare for these years where everyones wearing flared pants and maxi skirts and high waisted shorts

Avoid high waisted things. Low rise will look like mid rise on you and mid rise will look like high rise. High rise will make you look like urkel.

AVOID ANY TOPS LIKE THESE. THESE ARE WHAT YOU WILL FIND IN ALMOST EVERY STORE. THESE WILL MAKE YOU LOOK SOOOOO STUPID

[likea-black-widow-baby]

Season 7 and 2x02!

AoS Season 7: favorite decade for fashion

Favorite decade and favorite historical period are different, and it also depends on men’s vs women’s fashion.

Decade for men: 1930-40. Those suspenders are marvelous

Decade for women: 90’s. I’m boring and love a clean silhouette. Or the 40’s. I can 100% get behind those Queen Anne necklines, flattering skirts and blouses, and fun dresses

Historical period for men: 1700’s. Stede Bonnet has fashion figured out

Historical period for women: Medeival. I love gowns and rich colors but I don’t love the huge bustles and silhouettes of the Victorian or Edwardian periods. I love the drapery and embroidery of medieval fashion

Agent Carter 2x02: favorite Peggy fight scene

The diner fight scene in 1x06. It has everything: Peggy pointing out all the agents and how they’re clearing out the room, it being the first time she’s treated as an actual threat (as well as the injustice of only being recognized for her skills when she’s a threat), the climbing over the barrier into a perfect punch shot, fun jazzy music, Jarvis acting as her bumbling assistant, the epic catharsis of getting to show all those agents and SSR coworkers how truly out of their league she is, the realization that the L&L is no longer safe. SO good.

Also, the scene in 1x02 where she beats up the milk truck guy while the Captain America Adventure Program plays. They hit every beat with that one. I wasn’t watching Agent Carter as it came out, but I would bet it was the scene that had people convinced this show was going to do her justice. Setting her as Steve’s equal while she does things her own way. It’s a great example of a narratively important fight scene rather than just a two-people-beat-each-other-up sequence. It serves the theme of Peggy and Steve’s similarities and differences very well.

[champagne8love]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 🎁CLEARANCE🎁✨Banana Republic Dress Size M✨.

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

A Good Host

Summary: You and Kit are having friends over for dinner but he can’t wait till it’s over. So he decides to have his fun with you during dinner

Warnings: smut, fingering, female receiving, +18, poorly written car banter

You hummed as you set up the plates on the dinning room table, turning the knob on the radio up as it played your favorite song. Kit has invited some of his friends over for dinner and you were making sure every thing was perfect before they arrived, not wanting to look like a bad host.

You got the silverware out, matching them to each plate before grabbing the rolls you had made out of the over. You nibbled on one as you moved around the room, completely unaware of Kit watching you from the doorway, a smile on his face. You jumped when he came up behind you, but let out a giggle and relaxed when you realized it was him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning over your shoulder to press a kiss to your cheek. “My my Ms. Walka,” he cooed, drawing out the twang of his accent. “You outdid yourself.”

“Why thank you.” You smiled, swaying with him to the soft music. “I do try to be a good host.”

“I wasn’t talking about the food honey.” You gave him a confused look as he turned you to face him. “I was talking about my beautiful wife.” You blushed at his words, playful smacking his chest as you wiggled out of his arms.

“You’re too much.”

He laughed, moving with you, taking you back in his arms. “I’m serious suga, you look so good it makes me wanna cancel on our friends.” You were wearing his favorite sundress, the white flowy one with the Queen Anne neckline.

“That would be rude.” You chided, breaking away yet again to set the ham you had made in the table. Kit followed you yet again, his back pressing you to the table, so you couldn’t move. “Then how about we have some fun before they get here.” You could feel his hands dancing up your sides, lighting pulling up the dress.

You giggled, stopping his hands as they threatened to lift up your dress to expose your panties to him.“Not enough time.” He groaned burying his face in your hair. “Maybe after.”

“I can’t wait that long.” He mumbled, hands still playing with the hem of your dress. He ran his hands up your hips, pressing your ass to his crotch, you could already feel his hard on through his jeans. “Can you feel what you do to me?”

You bit back a moan at feeling him begin to lightly grind against you, feeling every movement through the thin material of your dress. His fingers trailing down your stomach to ghost over where you needed him most. He let his other hand come to grip your breast, his fingers twisting your pebbled nipple through your dress. You reached back to grip his hips, whether it was to stop him or encourage him you weren’t sure. “Kit we can’t.” You lightly protested, your hips beginning to move with his.

“We-“ Kit was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. He groaned and let you wiggle away from him. “No ones home!” He called out, crossing his arms as he let himself fall back to lean against the sink. You scolded him before going to answer the door. “What if we have some fun durning dinner?” Kits voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned to see a playful smirk on his face, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you getting at Mr. Walker?”

“You’ll see.” You waited for him to explain a bit he just motioned for you to open the door. You did as he said, not wanting his friends to think you were a bad host. You opened the door, smiling as they greeted you with playful whistles and soft kisses on your hands.

“Alright you perverts that’s enough.” Kit grumbled, pulling you close to his side. “Stop flirtin’ with my wife.”

“Just having a little fun.” One of them joked, slapping him on his back as they came in. You giggled at watching them interact, knowing that they would never try anything on their best friend’s girl. You close the door and make your way back to the kitchen, getting the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. They talk to each other as you fill their cups, thanking you in between their conversations.

You come back to the table, ready to sit and serve the food. But there are only four chairs and all of them are occupied. You squeeze past Kit to go to the back door, but he stops you, a hand snaking around your waist. “Where you going, we’re all ready to eat honey.”

“I know but there’s not enough chairs. I need to get a spare one from the garage.”

“Don’t worry honey, you can sit with me.” You open your mouth to protest but he pulls you into his lap in one quick movement. There’s a hidden motive in his actions but you ignore it for now, letting Kit carve the ham as you serve the sides to each of his friends. He places your plate in front of you with a wink.

One of his hands picked up his fork and began to mix his food together, shoveling it in his mouth. While his other hand came to rest dangerously high on your thigh, slowly pushing your dress up. You shot Kit a warning look but his hand kept at it, to the point where his hand had slipped under your dress. You felt yourself tense when his hand pushed your thighs apart, coming to rest, palm flat over your mound. He began to rub teasingly over the lace fabric, lightly snapping it against your skin.

“Don’t you dare.” You lowly hissed at him, trying to close your thighs. He just smirked and forced them back open. No one could see what he was doing, the table was too high and his hand was covered by your dress.

“Aren’t you gonna eat, food is getting cold.” Kit chided, taking another bit of his food. He made a noise of contentment at the taste. “It’s delicious honey.”

At his words all his other friends chided in to contentment on your cooking. You graciously thanked them, your attention distracted long enough for Kit to move your panties to the side and insert one finger in without warning. You let out a gasp of surprise but covered it with a cough.

You turned to glare at him but Kit was paying you no mind, eyes trained on one of his friends as they talked business. Talking about some car that had been brought in and was impossible to fix. The others began to chide in as well, the noise level rising enough for Kit to make his next move. He began to pump his finger in and out, dragging it along your walls and brushing your clit on his way out. Your nails were digging into thigh, trying not to make a sound.

Kit inserted another finger, pumping them together and curling them deep inside. You clenched around him, your breathing getting shallower. The indecency of it all making you incredibly wet, if it wasn’t for his friends chatter you could have heard the sound of your wetness each time Kit pulled out and pushed back in. Kit leaned back in his chair, his friends taking over his portion of conversation in his absence. His hot breath made you shiver as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “My my Ms. Walka, you are so wet and I’ve barely touched you.” He wiggled another finger in making you bit your lip down hard. “Does this turn you on?”

You could feel his smirk on your neck. “No.” You lied, clit throbbing with each movement of his fingers.

“It’s not very polite to lie.” He nipped at your ear before turning his attention back to his friends. As calm as ever as he talked like you weren’t seconds away from cumming on his fingers in front of all his friends. “I think the problem is with the gear shift.” He took over the conversation, raising his voice a little bit. “It’s stuck and won’t move the way you need it too.” Kit pulled his fingers out, wiping your wetness on your inner thigh, you nearly whined at the loss. But he quickly moved to let his fingers lie on your clit.

“You need to loosen it up a bit first.” He started with slow circle, not quite touching where you needed him. “Then you need to try moving it up and down.” He ran his fingers up your slit and back down again, flicking your clit each time. “And finally, just go crazy on it till it give you what you want.” He began to rub your clit rapidly, making your whole body twitch. The familiar feeling burning in your lower stomach. He didn’t stop, until he heard the hitch in your breath. His friends laughed at his oversimplification of what was wrong with the car, adding their own theories. They were completely oblivious that you had just come undone on his fingers.

Kit moved your panties back into place, both hands coming back up to rest on the table. You could see his hand covered in a light sheen from your release. He dragged his finger across the plate, picking up some of the grease of the ham. He lifted it up to his lips, licking the mixture of the juices off and releasing with a satisfying pop. “Absolutely heavenly.” His smirk sent a chill down your spine. “I don’t know about you boys but I’m ready for desert.”

His friends broke out in agreement, all eagerly awaiting your famous apple pie. “Go on honey, go get the desert for the boys.” He helped you off his lap, giving your ass a light slap as you lifted yourself onto wobbly legs. Still not fully recovered from your orgasm. You paused, gripping the table for support. “Go on honey,” Kit encouraged yet again. “A good host doesn’t keep their guests waiting.”

You did as he said, grabbing the pie from the windowsill as you tried to ignore the wetness dripping down your thighs. As you sat through desert, yours remained untouched. All you could think about was the real desert Kit would treat you to once all his friends had gone. Till then, you grinded down on his lap, making him choke on his pie. You could have your own fun durning dinner

[saturatedsinset]

for the little prompt thing i request whatever weird niche ship you like (if you like any) with the not being able to look into your lover's eyes because it will send you down a spiral you won't get out of one

the most important rule is to have fun and be yourself :)

so i uh. took this as a challenge. to find my Most Niche Ship. and i arrived at two options. and then i wrote them both out. but i think that does count as having fun and being myself, so, win some lose some

option 1: matt/seth doing a gender. you asked for niche

Matt's not prepared for Seth looking at him like - this. For Seth looking at him with empathy, like he's a person, like Seth cares about him as more than just a thing to be considered or cast aside. He's supposed to be - talking, he knows, but he's run out of words, and Seth doesn't even look impatient, the way Matt had expected.

There's a couple feet between them on the couch; Seth's keeping his distance. Matt's not sure if he's glad. "Okay," Seth's saying, patient just like the way he's looking. "Do you think you get why De- why Mox called me?"

That grates, more than a little, but Mox hadn't looked upset about it before, so Matt keeps his mouth shut. Doesn't feel like it's his to be mad about.

"No," Matt mumbles. "It's not - it's normal. Everyone wants to not be in their skin sometimes." He's staring at his hands. They feel too big.

"Right," Seth says, slowly, reaches over to rest a hand on Matt's. Matt blinks. His hands are softer than he'd expected. A lot of him is. "But not everyone wants to be a different gender. Right? Mox doesn't want you to call him princess."

"Well, Mox isn't - you know."

"Mox isn't what, babe?"

Matt stares at the carpet. Mox keeps his house so clean, or maybe Eddie does. He's never asked. "He's not. Princess."

"Why do you think that is?"

"He's all. You know. Big. Masculine."

"And you?"

"I'm - everyone wants to be a girl sometimes."

There's a sigh from Seth, still a couple feet away, but he doesn't sound annoyed. More affectionate than anything, honestly, and then the weight on the couch shifts as Seth scoots over and wraps an arm around Matt's shoulders.

"Maybe it's time to take a break," Seth murmurs, kisses Matt's hair, and now Matt can't not look up at him. He's so pretty. He's being so gentle.

option 2: cis girl matt/cis guy adam page. this one isn't as niche as a ship but gosh the au sure is

"How do I look, darling?"

Adam's going to die, he thinks. Matt looks good, of course she looks good, and she knows it, and obviously it's never a burden to tell her she's pretty, but she's turned it up tonight - Adam's grateful, of course; this is an important diner and Matt is, really, doing this for him. But he's going to die. She's wearing this crimson silk dress that clings to her waist, flows like water over her hips, with a Queen Anne neckline that shows - a lot. Adam's mouth is dry.

"Gorgeous. It's such a nice colour on you. You look perfect," he manages, his voice shot already. He glances at her again, and she's got this indulgent little smirk, like she can tell he's having trouble and she's planning on making it worse.

Two fingers tap on his chest, bright points of warmth. Her nails are always so sharp. Adam finally manages to look at her face, feels lightheaded all over again.

"You're gonna kill it, baby," she murmurs, and kisses him. When she pulls back, he feels dazed. Could stare at her all day. He can't believe she agreed to marry him.

[the2duchess]

02. Wedding

summary: Lili attends the wedding, and may meet a reason that can persuade her to come back for the summer.

word count: 3842

THE NEXT THREE DAYS were a blur. There were dress fittings, cake testings, and even a bachelorette party. The heady smell of flowers in the yard gave me headaches, not to mention the shop-till-you-drop mantra Emily was religiously following. She wanted me to go everywhere with her because you know, sister-in-law bonding. I would never admit it to her, but I had fun.

And before I knew it, it was the day of the wedding. Armed with my makeup bag and wearing a silk robe with Bridesmaid in sparkly letters on the back, I went straight to Emily's room after my shower to primp with her and the rest of the girls.

Emily and Sam's bedroom had been transformed into a girly haven. The smell of hairspray and perfume lingered on the bedspread and furniture. Necklaces, shoes, and dresses were draped over every surface. The tweeting of birds was accompanied by the noise of a nervous bride, two giggly bridesmaids, one subdued one, and an excited-in-her-own-way Leah Clearwater.

She had returned a day earlier, just in time for the final dress fitting. Her little brother Seth had stayed on at the Makah reservation because he was accompanying some elderly relatives to the wedding this morning.

"Don't worry, he'll be just in time to walk down the aisle with you," Emily assured me, as Kitty and Hanna, the two other bridesmaids, did her hair. They giggled at the double meaning in their cousin's words.

Leah snorted. She was sitting on the bed and checking her laptop. Emily groaned, "Please leave the college work for today." She turned towards me. "Leah is obsessed with college."

"It's the only time I get a break from the gang," she muttered, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly at me.

I faintly remembered her as Sam's ex-girlfriend of the past. I was really shocked to find out she was Emily's cousin and going to be the maid of honour of their wedding. However, she was pretty chill about it, probably because she had a boyfriend she'd been dating for quite a long time. He was apart of the groom's party.

After a couple of hours of rushing in and out and watching last minute tutorials, I finally had my hair and makeup done. The theme was all dewy skin and rosy lips, which went perfectly with our tan complexions and the spring theme of the wedding. I pinned my mid-length, slightly wavy hair to the side with the heirloom pearl hairpin my mother had given me to wear specially for the wedding.

Before we left the room, I checked my reflection in the mirror. I didn't look half-bad in pale yellow, and the dress's Queen Anne neckline framed my neck real nicely. All the bridesmaid dresses had different necklines, a decision by Emily I thought amazing.

We waited in the parlour, waiting for the guests to settle down. As we did, Emily came over to sit by me. Her makeup was flawless, and even her scars, caused by a bear attack a few years ago, didn't look so horrifying.

"Hi."

"Hi," I said, being fully aware of what was coming next: the mandatory I'm about to become your sister-in-law speech.

"We haven't known each other for a long time. However, I hope that we'll be as close as sisters. I want you to know, Sam loves you so much, possibly even more than he loves me. And if you ever have anything you can't tell Sam, you can always trust me."

My throat closed up. I couldn't believe how nice and sweet she was. Too good for Sam, actually. "Thanks Emily. Uh, you too."

She smiled sweetly at me, her scars lifting up to touch the corners of her eyes.

Just then, the strokes of a cello started.

"Oh God, it's time!" We all started fussing over Emily's dress as the groomsmen came in to join us.

"Who's ready to get this party started?" Paul whooped, looking rather dashing in a bespoke grey suit. "Who's my partner again? Kitty, isn't it?" He looked towards me and took a double take. "Damn Lils, you don't look too bad yourself. Pity you aren't my partner." He winked.

"Where's Seth, Lili's actual partner?!" Emily said agitatedly. "I really wanted to introduce him to Lili properly."

"Right here!" said a husky voice cheerily. That voice was like a magnet, and my head whipped up as if on its own accord to find the source.

Immediately, I felt like I had been hit by a truck.

Just like the other boys, this boy was tall and muscular, with russet skin and jet-black hair. What set him apart from them was how young and boyish his face was compared with the rest of his body. He was utterly cute, with a drop-dead gorgeous grin that stretched across his face.

Emily's voice seemed to be travelling through water. "Seth, this is Lili, Sam's sister. You're walking with her for the procession."

He stepped towards me, and a strange, prickly feeling coursed through my body. I felt my knees give way and I would have fallen, if it had not been for a pair of warm arms wrapping around my waist.

Seth's widened eyes locked onto mine. He looked just as shocked as I was.

"Tripped. On the floorboards," I said hoarsely. Plausible, given that I was wearing heels. But not really, because the floor was smooth wood.

He tightened his grip on me, hot fingers pressed against my bare, trembling arm. My hand was clutching his shoulder. And I don't know what it was, but I had automatically shifted my body to face him. I was overcome by the need to be close to him, look at him, and never look away.

I knew for the sake of appearances, I should have wrenched myself out of his hold and apologised.

But his lips spread out into an even wider grin, if that was even possible. My heart melted, fluttered, and beat at a rate that shouldn't even be humanely possible.

Behind me, I vaguely heard Embry whisper, "Oh no."

SETH

He knew that he should have let go. But he didn't want to because as far as he knew it, he was holding the most lovely creature in existence. Even though his scorching temperature could have burned her with the intensity he gripped her.

"Seth," Leah gave him a warning look. "Any time today."

"Oh right! Sorry." He cleared his throat, flushing deep red when he realised everyone was staring at them. Paul looked like he was about to bark out in laughter.

Damn it, he was never going to live this down.

He held out his elbow, prompting Lili to shyly link her arm in his. As she did so, he felt a shiver run up and down his spine. Her arm fit so perfectly in his, like a jigsaw puzzle.

Seth had heard the legends of imprinting, but assumed it was too rare for it to occur to too many people in the pack. Nevertheless, he dreamed of having someone to love like Sam loved Emily, Jared loved Kim, and vice versa. He had always admired how easily they fell into each other's orbits, how they responded to each other like sunflowers gravitating towards the sun.

He'd always feared he'd imprint on someone way younger than him, like Quil and Claire because it seemed a bit strange. Fortunately, she seemed his age.

Lili. What a lovely, beautiful name. To match with an equally beautiful face.

Even as they progressed down the aisle, he was painfully aware of her every movement. Her breathing was steady and even, and he could hear her faintly counting along to the beat of the cello. Her hypnotising scent invaded his senses with every step she took, so much so that he just wanted to run his fingers through her hair.

She was pretty tall, reaching just a bit below his shoulder. The perfect height. He could see the flickering of her eyelashes as she blinked. Her fingers absentmindedly tapped his arm, sending Seth's breakfast churning in his stomach.

The bottom of her hair brushed against his shoulder, forcing him to resist breathing in the scent of her mango shampoo and citrus soap. He didn't want to look like a creep.

Well, too late for that since you keep looking at her like some insane maniac.

He could hear his mother gasp in adoration and whisper, "My handsome little man," knowing that he could hear her. He grinned, wondering whether she, Old Quil or Billy Black could tell that he had found the love of his life. His imprint.

Seth was sorry to depart from her at the end of the aisle. His gaze lingered on her as she retreated to stand on the opposite side. Unfortunately, she looked elsewhere, into the crowd, up at the flowery arch, anywhere but at him.

He was already anticipating the moment when this boring ceremony was over and he could walk up to her and talk to her. What could he talk to her about? The weather? The wedding? The fact that he was already head-over-heels for her?

But oh dear, if the elders could recognise the imprinting signs, could Sam? And on his special day too! He didn't want to muck up anyone's wedding day, let alone his possible future brother-in-law's!

Luckily for them, Sam was looking at Lili instead of at him. He held out a hand to his sister, who begrudgingly took it and gave him a timid smile.

As everyone stood up for the bride's entrance, gasps erupted from the crowd. Emily's dress had been under much speculation, especially since most knew her scars extended from her face to her right arm. They all expected her to cover them up with sleeves.

However, Emily surprised them all.

Her sleeves were made of organza, with intricate lacework running up and down her arms in floral patterns. Her bright red scars were in plain sight, as clear as crystals through the translucent material. Yet, they were beautiful. They were a part of her.

Sam had always loathed himself for the horror he had inflicted on her. Only now did his self-hatred weaken, at the sight of his glowing bride.

"You may now kiss the bride!" announced Old Quil, who was acting as the officiator.

Everyone cheered as the elated couple kissed. Seth did too and as he did, a set of eyes watched him.

LILI

"Stare much?" I muttered under my breath, feeling a hot stare upon my back. While everyone was either dancing or eating, I was sipping lemonade by a cocktail table with Kim and Rachel.

"You mean Seth?" Kim raised her glass in the direction of Seth, Paul, Jared, and Embry on the opposite side of the dance floor. He appeared to be the target of their ribbing, as they punched the shoulder and patted him on the back.

"He is so adorable, like a little puppy. Rumour has it you two couldn't stop staring at each other during the ceremony." Rachel sipped her champagne nonchalantly. "If you asked me, I think he likes you."

"He's way out of my league. Way out." The moment I whispered that, Seth's eyes seemed to harden.

He looked up in my direction, but I quickly moved my gaze over to the couples on the dance floor. Of course, there was Emily and Sam moving dreamily to Frank Sinatra. And Leah with Jacob Black, her boyfriend who had been Sam's best man.

Claire the flower girl was dancing with Quil. She stood on his toes as he swung her from one end of the dance floor to the next. Her flower wreath wobbled precariously on the top of her curls, but she didn't seem to mind as she squealed with laughter.

"Hey, Kim." Jared came over and kissed his girlfriend's cheek. "Can I have this dance?" At the same moment, Paul came over and spun Rachel onto the dance floor.

So I was alone, left contemplating my existence. Once again, I couldn't help but peek at where Seth was situated. He was alone talking with Embry, face all serious as he gesticulated wildly. He seemed to arguing about something, but Embry wasn't disagreeing with him or anything. He was calmly accepting the brunt of Seth's arguing, all the while sighing and sipping his champagne.

I hardly even knew the guy, but my whole body already seemed attuned to him. Never had I ever felt emotions so strong for a guy I had known for months let alone a guy I had just met! Was I so shallow, fixating on him purely because of his looks? I haven't even talked to him properly. He could have been a huge jerk for all I knew.

But deep down, my gut told me otherwise. He just had to be as pure and wholesome as his smile, presence, and expressions suggested.

And oh my goodness, he was walking my way. Coming straight. Towards. Me.

"Hey." Hands in his pockets, Seth Clearwater shifted from foot to foot nervously. "Lili, right?"

"Yes." I said quickly, accidentally coming off as a bit sharp. I pinched my thigh, willing myself to bite my tongue.

"Want to dance? Songs are pretty great," he said, just as the Frank Sinatra song ended and a Corrine Bailey Rae song started playing: Put Your Records On.

I choked out, "Sure."

He nervously took my hand and led me out onto the dance floor. He stood in front of me, dumbstruck as to what to do with his hands.

"Here." I gained some confidence and took hold of his hands—they were blazingly hot—and placed one around my waist, another on my shoulder. I could feel the heat emanating from his fingers through the thin, flimsy silk of my dress. His hands practically engulfed me. I was a tall person but here was someone who made me feel tiny and delicate.

His face was a fiery crimson. "Sorry."

I studied Seth's features underneath the golden glow of the Chinese lanterns, marvelling at how chiselled yet sweet they were. He was a year older than my seventeen, as Paul had let on on the day of my arrival. Eighteen—the perfect age.

We glided effortlessly across the dance floor, despite only meeting today. We were dancing almost as well as Leah and Jacob, heck, even as good as Sam and Emily! He seemed to be able to predict my moves, and I could predict his. We never stepped on each other's toes.

He suddenly blurted out, "I'm sorry. I have no idea what to say or do. I'm a little bit ... flustered."

"I could tell." I held back a giggle. "Have you ever talked to a girl?"

"I have a sister!" He nodded across the dance floor where Leah and Jacob were entwined around each other, moving like a pair of salsa dancers.

"Killer couple." I meant it both in the figurative and literal sense. Just like everyone else in La Push, they were stunningly beautiful, like magazine models. In addition, Leah's leg muscles peeked out from the slit of her bridesmaid dress, which was devastatingly off-the-shoulder. Jacob, like the rest of the boys, was positively ripped.

We swayed in silence for a few beats, his body barely touching mine. The distance was so near yet far, I felt like yelling in frustration.

"You know, I never expected someone sharing Sam's features to look like you."

"Ugly?"

"Hey, I heard that!" Sam had managed to steer himself and Emily over to us. His eyes squinted in suspicion. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Sam!" Seth exclaimed, startlingly afraid.

"They're just dancing, Sam." Emily gave him an exasperated look, Seth and I an apologetic one, and steered him away, despite his protests.

Seth ruffled his hair in frustration. "Agh, I meant to say that you look pretty."

"You think I'm pretty?" It came out so unexpectedly, I didn't have the time to blush.

His face turned an even darker shade of red, if that were even possible. "Maybe—wait no!—wait—yes, obviously—um—I—" He bit his lip, looking so much like a forlorn puppy that I had to burst out laughing.

I had never met anyone so awkward nor endearing as him.

"You look really really pretty in that dress. Not that you wouldn't look pretty in anything other than a dress, but you just ... do." He then added as an afterthought, "I'm not a creep, I swear."

"You don't look too bad yourself in a tux. And we're at a wedding, outfit discussions are all the rage." I moved my arm further up his shoulder, cheekily edging closer to him. "You're Emily's cousin, right?"

"Yeah. Pretty cool cos she's a good cook. I'm always over at their house devouring her latest bakes so I guess I'll be seeing you around a lot." His chocolate-brown eyes shone like stars.

"Uhh." This time, it was my turn to turn to putty. My tongue flapped around uselessly in my mouth, rendered incapable of forming coherent words what with Seth's face just inches away from my own.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'm staying at Aunty Allison's house, since Sam and Emily are leaving for their honeymoon."

"What time are you leaving for the airport?"

"Five."

"I'll see you off. If you want me to." Again, he hit me with his killer smile.

"You wake up that early?"

"Yeah, I work out in the morning."

Pretty easy to tell that he did. Even his shoulders felt ripped. "That's okay, I don't need a big send-off. Because I'm coming back in the summer and staying for the school year." In one swift move, I had already made my decision.

I was coming back.

"You are!" His eyebrows shot up. "That's great! La Push is fun in the summer. We can go to the beach, go swimming, cliff-diving, anything!"

"Cliff-diving? That sounds dangerous."

"Everyone's initial assumption, but I swear it's the best thing."

"I'll consider it." I gave him my toothiest smile ever since coming to La Push.

Seth's hand went up to touch my hairpin. "Pretty." His hand lingered by the side of my face. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

My heart skipped a beat. Unfortunately, the song ended all too soon and before I knew it, I was being led away by Aunty Allison to be introduced to a huge hoard of relatives. The last sight I had of Seth that night was him gazing questioningly at me, hand reaching out as if to hold onto something.

—

In advance of the confusion of the happy couple leaving for the honeymoon to Hawaii, Sam sought me out.

"Lili, before I leave—"

"Know that I'm your sister and I'll always be your sister?" I gave him an expectant look. "Yeah, Emily already hit me with that speech."

"And she's right. Look, I know I haven't been the best big brother to you in a while. And I'm looking forward to our future, getting to know you better, if you'll let me." His face took on an abruptly sad note, which I hastily tried to erase.

"I've decided to stay for the summer and the school year, Sam." I didn't want to be blamed for dampening the spirits of the groom himself. "And ... I'm excited. Honest."

Sam's grin practically split his face in half. "That's great, Lili! Emily will be so psyched! Are you sure about your decision? Cause you made it quite quickly."

I shrugged noncommittally. "There's just someone ... something about La Push."

His eyes narrowed. "Is this something to do with Seth Clearwater—"

My heart dropped to my stomach but thankfully, we were interrupted by the boys yelling at him to hurry up.

So I watched them, my big brother and my brand new sister-in-law, embark on their honeymoon. They laughed as we threw rice grains on them, and waved ecstatically as they drove away. I had never seen Sam looking so joyous.

Aunty Allison's, Sam's mum, was wiping tears from her eyes as she hugged me to her side. My mum was on my other side, having been invited to the wedding as well.

Our mothers were as close as sisters, bonding over the fact that they had both been deserted by Joshua Uley. When I was younger, we had spent routine summers in La Push with them. Sometimes, we'd all even go for road trips along the coast. Excepting my father, of course.

"Should we head home?" Aunty Allison said.

"You guys go on ahead. I'll help clean up." I gestured towards the big mess left behind—the masses of ribbons and flowers pulled out by eager children, the rice grains sprinkled on the driveway.

"Let them do it tomorrow, we're all so tired." She pulled me in closer. "You're leaving in five hours, you need your beauty sleep."

"Come on, big girl," said my mother gently, leading me away to where Aunty Allison's car was parked.

—

I woke the next morning to grey skies and a light drizzle. My eyelids fluttered as I rolled my suitcase out to the car, dressed in a simple sweatshirt and jeans.

As we waited for Aunty Allison, my mum asked me, "Have you made a decision about La Push?" As much as my mother loved me, she loved her work as a doctor almost just as much. I knew that she wanted to stay in South America for the program longer than a single summer.

I had always been planning on staying here for the school year, but only now was I able to say with conviction, "Yeap! Can't wait."

"You're going to love it here. Emily is such a sweet girl, she'll treat you well."

"Are we ready to go?" Aunty Allison stepped out of the house, tossing her keys from one hand to the next.

I bit my lip, not wanting to leave before seeing Seth Clearwater. I was wondering whether he would come and see me off, but it was already five minutes past five.

"It's already late, let's get going." But as I entered the car, I kept looking out of the window for any sign of him.

Suddenly, a huge, sandy-coloured wolf stepped out of the forest near Aunty Allison's house. Its fur glittered under the milky sunlight and it tilted its head, as if questioning me. We were at least a hundred metres apart but it was able to stare directly into my eyes.

I swore I saw those beautiful, slightly familiar chocolate-brown eyes glimmer with tears. Then the wolf, in all its glory, raised its snout into the air and let out a mournful howl. The sound, so haunting and miserable, struck a chord within me.

After letting the final notes of his misery ring out, he retreated back into the forest, not before fixing me with a final pleading look.

And so I left La Push, wondering whose loss the wolf was so badly mourning.

P.S. I changed their ages, Seth to eighteen and Lili to seventeen. The age difference between Sam (23) and Seth probs isn't accurate, but I think his age would match the storyline better :)

[gablehood]

Rank the best and worst costumes from the Tudors

-shania twain voice- let’s go girls.

OKAY so, my opinions may change in the future as I continue to watch the show and get reminded of both good and unforgivable dresses, but here are my initial thoughts. 

Five GOOD Dresses From ‘The Tudors’ (In My Humble Opinion)

White Anne Boleyn Dress: This is par for the course in terms of dresses I like in The Tudors. The closest it has to historically accuracy is a square neckline, but it’s pretty! I enjoy the open sleeves even if they have no place in this era, and all in all I think it’s a cute look. I also think it would have served as a better wedding dress for her than the awful one we see for five seconds during her and Henry’s secret wedding scene. 

Brown Anne Boleyn Gown: This is perhaps the closest we get to historically accuracy in costuming on this show? It’s got the Henrician silouhette, and the colours are sumptuous. Like, yes, it’s brown, but it looks RICH. I absolutely love the sleeves. If they threw a good french hood on her in this scene, this would have been genuinely perfect.

Anne Boleyn’s Yellow For Mourning Dress: I might not be in the majority for being fond of this dress, but I am! Again, love the sleeves. We’ve got something vaguely approaching an historically accurate silhouette, even if that completely gets thrown off by the truly unique frilled headpiece she’s wearing, which... I can’t lie, I have always kind of loved. IN ANY CASE, this dress is the moment. 

Anne of Cleves’ Yellow Dress: Anne of Cleves got some marvellously funky  gowns in this series, and of course her red, Christmas dress is very iconic, but in terms of pure aesthetic, this yellow dress she’s wearing when she learns of her annulment is so pretty. The embroidery is gorgeous! 

Katherine Howard’s Ivory Downfall Dress: I have two pictures for this one just cause it’s kinda hard to get a good shot of it. It DOES actually appear earlier in season 4 when she wears it in a well-lit picnic scene-- and you’re probably wondering why I don’t use one of those pictures instead. WELL, that’s because this is the scene where this dress shines. It’s the “everything is crumbling around me but I’m still wearing the pretty princess dress” dress, which is, personally, my aesthetic. Combine it with the Queen’s Chambers in shambles, flowers wilting all around her, and it’s an iconic visual.  Now for the fun part. The WORST dresses.

Four UNFORGIVABLE Dresses From The Tudors 

Jane Seymour’s Sea Foam Green Monstrosity: I refuse to watch one minute and thirty seconds of advertisements on All4 to get a better shot of this dress (I mean I actually only screenshotted two of the dresses on this list myself, but... still). The sheer audacity of this gown to even exist and make me look at it with my eyes. The scene of Jane getting ready to take the air with Henry while Anne prepares for execution is SO iconic I’m just truly sad that THIS is the dress she was getting into. That is an executable offense. 

Anne Boleyn’s Purple Dress Mess: The best quality google image I could find of this dress is from the bit where that assassin imagines that he’s murdered Anne, which is fitting, because I too would rather be dead than wear this dress.

This Margaret Pole Dress That Really Offends Me For Some Reason: A lot of these dresses, you’ll note, are on the queens. That’s because they’re generally a bit more easy to remember all these years later; but also once upon a time in 2013 some kind soul uploaded a supercut of all the Queen’s scenes in The Tudors (and that is what I would rewatch, rather than the actual show.) Margaret Pole, in this dress, would show up in CoA’s supercut, and I HATED this outfit, every time. Viscerally. I actually just got to this point in the show in my actual rewatch and was reminded how much I hated it. They beheaded her for this outfit. Canon. 

The Sheer Lack Of Clothing On A Few Dozen Unnamed Court Lady Extras, And Occasionally Anne Boleyn, And All Too Frequently, Katherine Howard: I’m gay. And I like dresses. So I don’t watch a period drama hoping to see naked ladies. Not only was the constant female nudity in The Tudor’s objectifying, gratuitous and oftentimes genuinely disrespectful (e.g, Katherine Howard practicing for her own execution... completely naked) it also robbed us of screentime that could have been better spent looking at dresses.

[magica-witch-project]

Hi! My wish would be to become all knowing! I’m kind of a cynical person, but I’ve been told that I have a very wise aura. People always come to me for advice or if they want to know something. I have a scar on my eyebrow and dark hair, my favorite color scheme is dark purple and neon blue!

Your magical girl form is futuristic and flashy! Your skirt is a clear holographic purple number, under which you wear a pair of black leggings that shift to neon blue as they reach your ankles. The top of your dress is black with a Queen Anne neckline. If you look closely, there’s a silvery shimmer to the black barricade as it hits the light. On your head is a glowing purple visor with your perfectly round soul gem set into the side. Rounding out your neon look is a set of chunky bracelets and anklets, all of which glow in the same blue as your tights. Your weapon is an equally flashy purple laser sword that, when paired with your ability to teleport, is a strikingly effective weapon. Your flashy looks aren’t the only thing that makes a splash in the magical community, however. People come from all over to ask you about their futures. After all, being all knowing means you can see every possibility in their life, right? This can be overwhelming at times, but you take pride in how much you’re able to help others this way. Outside of your duties, your daily activities become significantly easier (you can predict traffic patterns, you always know what someone will ask of you before they do, and you’re one heck of a trivia master!). You think you could really get used to this…

The think nobody tells you about omniscience is how stressful it is knowing every bad thing that is happening while being unable to stop it. Sure, you can give good advice and have a leg up on winning the lottery, but having the knowledge of when everyone around you is going to die takes a toll on you. It certainly doesn’t help that you were cynical from the start, but now that you know everything, it has just gotten worse. It gets to a point that you fall into apathy, no longer caring to give others the advice you once so freely dispensed. What good will it do in a world so full of corruption and senseless violence? This line of thinking is what drives you to no longer care for your soul gem, causing your transition to begin. You are now Evrim, the dystopian witch. Her nature is controlling. Evrim’s labyrinth is dizzying to look at. The second one steps in, they would be blinded by the bright neon lights that cover the area. Their language seems almost familiar, but it is utterly unreadable. Once adjusted to the lints, one might notice how dark and grimy the area feels- wires crossing high above, with darkened alleyways stretching on forever, empty save for the mumbling clusters of impossibly lanky hooded beings that loiter beneath the signs, their hushed words as indecipherable as the text that surrounds them. Their purpose is to pass information along to Evrim as they keep their eyes on the intruder. It would be quite easy to get lost amongst the towering structures and alleyways, but if one were to follow the wires just right, they might find themself face to face with the witch. The space that she inhabits is littered with screens of all shapes and sizes, blaring strange music and indecipherable visuals. The witch herself is built of assorted cords and wires that end in a massive computer monitor. From this monitor, the witch controls every aspect of this false city she has built for herself, as evidenced by the ever-changing text on the screen. The best way to defeat Evrim is to shatter this screen while avoiding being entangled in her many cords. Be cautious of these; not only can they bind one’s legs, but they may deliver a nasty shock. Upon her defeat, every light in the “city” will black out one by one, leaving the one who defeated her in the dark before the barrier disappears.

Thank you so much for the wish! If you want anything changed, please let me know. Since I don’t really have much advice to offer, I’d love to take a moment to talk about my inspiration for this piece. This one has seriously got to be up there with Aella for the coolest witch I’ve designed. The color palette you gave me reminded me of the color my sister uses when playing Beat Saber, and the futuristic visuals there fell in line so well with your “all knowing” wish. So yeah, a lot of this kind of drew inspiration from both my experiences in virtual reality, as well as my general love for cyberpunk as an aesthetic. This prompt really struck a chord with me, and I really hope that it came through in my writing! Anyways, thank you so much for the opportunity to write this one, I had a ton of fun. Much love!

-Mod Mami 💻

[spookymultimedia]

A Summer to Remember ch 2

CW: non-explicit sexual themes

[Maude pov]

        The air was warm, humid and smelled like burgers. Occasionally there would be a whopping 10 people here, but that was rare. These retreats had tended to feel more friendly and personal than anything. I didn't mind. Since Helen and Timothy had arrived at Catfish Lake, they had changed into something more casual. Helen was in a grey tank top with old high waisted jeans. The jeans cuffed at her ankles and where a bit faded from time. The tank top had a line of lace at the neckline. She looked cute in the outfit. It seemed comfy on her. I just threw on an old green camp shirt that I thought looked neat and a pair of jeans. Ned had on a light blue shirt and Timothy had on an old navy blue button up over an old christian rock and  It was pretty casual. Skillet, I think, was the band. The shirt was hard to read. 

      I had been sitting on a bench by myself while Ned was talking to Timothy about something Biblical no doubt. Tim seemed to do more listening than talking. Helen walked up to the bench carrying a couple of tea gallons and set them down. There set where some paper plates, fruits, cups, chips, and utensils. In the center there were Queen Ann's Laces that I had picked while she and Ned set the table. I smiled at her, 

      "Mmm I love your sweet iced tea Helen. It's always a perfect mix of not too bitter and not too sweet."

       A part of me wanted to tell her it reminded me of her. . .but when I thought about it, I didn't think it would come out right. She was a perfect mix of personality, but I don't think she'd understand my words right if I told her.

        "Oh Maude you say that every year"

"Well it's always a treat every year."

She hummed proudly and closed her eyes, 

   "I do pride myself in my top secret recipes."

         She sat by me, glanced at Ned and then at me. "Maude, is there something between you and Ned going on? Something that would keep you from . . .you know."

I blushed, "That's very forward of you."

"You had kids at some point. Twice."

      "We wanted to have children. We wanted a family."

      "But still. . ." She cocked her head slightly.

      But what? I looked at her puzzled I wasn't sure what she wanted from me.

    "It's just something that doesn't come up in our relationship much." I shrugged. "We don't really talk about it. . ."

"Well are you going to?"

             "Yeah we are. . .we are." 

         Something felt uncomfortable. Out of place. Like I didn't belong. I looked over at Ned. Did I love him? Of course! I was shocked when the thought crossed my mind. I trusted him with my life. But there was a feeling of doubt in my stomach. Why? Was this the issue that Tim was trying to talk about?

      "Maude?"

    Helen noted me staring off at nothing. I looked at her.

     "Are you okay? Are. . .are you and Ned okay?" I could see a million different scenarios play in her head. 

   "We're fine. I promise. There isn't anything we couldn't handle." 

"But there is something?" Her eyes grew curious.

              "I don't know." I shrugged again. 

   "You don't know?"

I sighed, "Helen, please." 

   "I'm sorry. I'm only worried, that's all."

"There's nothing you need to worry about, okay?"

      She nodded. She then continued to go on about how she and Tim's ride up here went. She insisted she saw a deer. I tried to focus but kept feeling distracted by the persistent doubt that was in the back of my mind.

[Ned pov]

      There was something in me that was born to question everything, to understand it. An innate curiosity that needed to understand the unknown. I needed to know the unknown. It was both a blessing and a curse. 

      I often discussed deep questions with Timothy. He usually had short answers that meant well but I could never seem to feel satisfied with. For the last 20 minutes I had been doing just that as he grilled. Asking about things I didn't understand and tried to find an answer I liked. You might get the impression from Timothy that he was tired of me but I didn't think that was the case. He was just a quiet person. It was easy to take his bluntness personally at times. He was a good listener. He would tell me if he got really fed up. I understand I ask ridiculous questions at times, I know I do. So sometimes I don't blame him for his frustration. 

     "Ned, I do forget, how did you meet Maude?" He asked me later that afternoon by the lake. The girls were out in the water. We weren't up for swimming. Tim didn't swim much anyways.

      "It was a potluck. Our families were friends and I guess me and Maude got friendly there. . .Tim, how did you feel when you first met your wife?"

     He hummed and looked back at the cabin. "It was like love at first sight. She was just the prettiest thing. Quite the young Christian woman with a sense of . . .well adventure. I remember she talked me into swinging off that lake rope" He looked at a rope swing that hung off a sturdy tree limb over a deeper section of the lake, "she even swung off it herself to prove a point." He made a huff that could be interpreted as a chuckle. "And I did it. I took a chance. I felt like I could do anything after that." A smile crept up on his face. I felt nervous again. He always made me feel this strange kind of nervousness. It was like I felt sick but in a . . .a sickly happy way. I wasn't sure why.

        "When you say love at first sight? What do you mean?"

  "I met her and.  . .well, I just knew. You know?"  I shook my head.

       "Not . . .really. Me and Maude were just friends for a while." 

      I watched Tim's fingers run through the pompadour that was falling flat. His hair was  now a tad longer and some hairs fell into his face. It was nice to see him more relaxed and natural.  His hands. . .God, his hands were so interesting to me. They were long and thin. A few beauty marks were scattered on his body; a couple were on his palm. Hold his hand. Something in me whispered. No. . .no I couldn't do that. . .no. I brushed it off and didn't give it another thought. All this time Tim stared at the water thinking.

      "Ned . .you know. . .sometimes couples . . just aren't meant to be together. It just isn't God's plan somet-" I cut him off.

     "Are you implying that me and Maude shouldn't be together?" I sounded defensive.

   "Now Ned that's not what I sai-."

            "Timothy-" I paused and blushed at how brave I got so suddenly. I cleared my throat. His eyes had widened slightly.

        "Reverend. . .there is nothing bad between us. . .I mean.  . . Maude and I. She's honest with me and know her like like back of my hand. We're happy."

            "Really?" He said neutrally.

  "Yes. . .really, we are." I sounded unsure for being so sure. I felt his warm hand touch my shoulder. I looked up at him a bit tense for a second but relaxed immediately. I felt my heart pace. It wasn't common for him to touch anyone outside of Helen like this, but it did happen on the rarity.

    "Ned, if you need help with anything.  .I'm here to listen. I always am." He looked right at my eyes.

"I know you are."

      I touched his fingers. I couldn't resist. They felt so soft to the touch. Kiss him. The thought scared me. I ignored it.

Why I was thinking about this. Why was I suddenly put on the spot to think about my sex life this summer? It was such a bizarre topic. A taboo one. This wasn't something that was allowed to be discussed as a young boy. Why did my sexuality suddenly matter now? Why did I have to talk about it now? Why was I feeling this way?? I'm not a homosexual.

Right?

I felt a horrible ache in my chest. No.

I'm not.

 He then took his hand away.  "Okay." 

[petersasteria]

The Forces of Nature || Ch.4

Pairing: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

Summary: “There’s this kid out there that can control the wind or something. I think she’s a great addition to the team. Let’s recruit her.”

SERIES MASTERLIST  ||  PP MASTERLIST

Click the pictures for better quality and I still can’t believe I actually did this chapter with maximum effort lmao bc I actually studied so yeah have fun learning

Today was the day of Y/N and Peter's presentation about Queen Elizabeth I and Y/N wasn't nervous at all. She was confident about their presentation. Plus, their slide designs looked really cute and refreshing to look at. Y/N's outfit that day was a modernized version of a dress from the Elizabethan era. She designed it herself and she was proud of the outcome and that she got it done in time. Eunice helped, of course.

The sleeves were short and slightly puffed. The skirt went until her knees and it had layers underneath to make it puffy as well. The body of her dress was tight fitted because of the corset. The dress had a boat neckline and her only accessory was a pastel choker. In fact, her whole dress was pastel colored and her hair was styled in loose curls.

When Peter entered the room, Y/N was reading her book in her seat. Peter sat next to her and sensing his presence, Y/N turned to him and smiled, "Good morning, Peter."

"G'morning, Y/N." Peter gave her a tight-smile as he set his bag down. Y/N continued reading and without looking up from her book, she said, "C'mon say something about my outfit. I feel like you have something to say about it. You always do."

"How did you know that?" Peter asked. Y/N looked at him and smiled, "I can tell. Just say it. No hard feelings."

Peter cleared his throat and took a good look at her. He didn't have anything insulting to say. However, he said, "You look like you came out of a Melanie Martinez music video."

"She was part of the inspiration for this design." Y/N chuckled. "She's amazing."

Peter didn't get to say anything because Mrs. Johnson walked in the room causing Y/N to place a bookmark on the page she was reading and putting it in her bag.

"Who will present today?" Mrs. Johnson asked. Peter and Y/N raised their hands and Mrs. Johnson smiled, "Ahh, the geniuses. I expect a great presentation. The floor is yours."

Y/N took the flash drive from her pocket and handed it to Peter which was a subtle way of telling him to set it up. Mrs. Johnson walked to the back of the classroom and sat on the chair where observers usually sit. Y/N patiently waited as Peter sets up the whole thing. When it was ready, Y/N mouthed a small 'thank you' to Peter who just smiled and nodded.

"Hi everyone! Peter and I will be talking about Queen Elizabeth I's early life until she became queen. We were told not to tackle her reign as queen because someone else will be presenting that." Y/N introduced and explained.

"Yes, please proceed." Mrs. Johnson smiled.

Peter clicked the next slide.

Peter cleared his throat and racked his brains for what he remembered. He and Y/N agreed that he'd explain the basic ones and would pipe in if he could remember some parts of her life.

"Queen Elizabeth I was born on September 7, 1533. She was the only child of King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. If you don't know who Anne Boleyn is, she's Henry's second wife and she got executed for treason." Peter said. "Anyway, since Anne Boleyn got executed before Elizabeth's third birthday, Elizabeth was left discarded and removed from succession of the throne."

"It was kind of complicated because Elizabeth and her sister, Mary, were due a certain level of care and they'd be in and out of favor depending on King Henry VIII's mood and marital status. I mean, what kind of father would do that?" Peter said with so many emotions. Y/N was in shock that he actually read everything, but she was also proud that he did so.

"Eventually, they realized that Elizabeth was a 'highly prized potential wife'." Peter said in air quotes. "I air quoted 'highly prized potential wife' because spoiler alert to those who don't know: SHE DIDN'T GET MARRIED. She's not called The Virgin Queen for nothing, guys."

"And because she was a 'highly prized potential wife', she was well educated and her education was first rate. She excelled in languages! She was intelligent, articulate, and open-minded. In short, she was ahead of her time. I mean, that's my opinion, of course." Peter said.

"Why do you think she was ahead of her time, Mr. Parker?" Mrs. Johnson asked.

"Because she was open-minded before anyone else. All of us have already evolved and we all keep evolving and growing as a society and yet there are people who are still so close-minded about things. If Elizabeth was open-minded since the 1530's, why aren't we all open-minded now?" Peter answered which made Y/N smile. It made Mrs. Johnson smile too and nodded for Peter to continue.

"And because she was well educated and stuff, she grew up quickly. It was great that she matured so fast but it suddenly didn't feel great when her brother, Edward VI, became King of England in 1547." Peter started. "Henry's widow, Catherine Parr, married soon after Henry's death. She married Thomas Seymour."

"It was reinstated under the terms of Henry's will that Elizabeth would be Edward VI's successor. She was under the care of Catherine Parr and living in her household. At the age of 14, Elizabeth first attracted male attention." Peter said.

"Not much is to be known about Thomas Seymour except for the fact that he was power hungry and in my opinion, a pedophile. I based that opinion from the fact that Thomas Seymour, in his late 30's might I add, engaged in appropriate behavior with Elizabeth. When Catherine discovered that, Thomas assured her that it was all innocent. One day, Catherine found Thomas and Elizabeth alone together in an embrace and because of that, Elizabeth was sent away in May 1548."

A classmate named Cindy raised her hand. Peter looked at her and said, "Yes?"

"Was Elizabeth okay after that?" Cindy asked. Peter grinned, "Good question."

"Yes, she was okay. Being sent away made it easy for her to move on from all of it, but only for a short time." Peter answered. "It was only a short time because when Catherine Parr died in... October, was it?" He looked at Y/N for help.

Y/N continued where Peter left off, "When Catherine Parr died in September 1548, Thomas Seymour tried to renew his relationship with Elizabeth. Of course, he failed. So, he manipulated Edward VI."

"Why did he do all those things?" Flash asked.

"Well, he was power hungry and he wanted to secure his authority that's why he did what he did. Thomas was arrested in 1549 for his inappropriate behavior towards Elizabeth and plots to overthrow his brother who was the Lord Protector of England. That same year, he was executed." Y/N shrugged as Flash nodded. Peter clicked the next slide.

"Being Edward VI's sister, she caused little trouble compared to her sister, Mary, who went against the King's orders. When Edward VI fell ill in 1553, he went against Henry VIII's wishes and disinherited his sisters. Although his main issue was with Mary because of her very Catholic beliefs, disinheriting her would mean that he'd have to disinherit Elizabeth as well." Y/N reported.

"Well, that sucks." Flash commented.

"Indeed." Y/N said in agreement. "Anyway, when Edward died, Lady Jane Grey became queen... only for 9 days, though."

"A queen for 9 days? Why only 9 days? Did she die too?" Austin asked.

Y/N shook her head, "Nope."

"Who is she, anyway? She came out of nowhere!" Nadine exclaimed. "It's like she came there unannounced or something."

Y/N went to the board and grabbed a chalk and drew a chart of the Tudors for their classmates to understand. Peter stared at her in awe. "This girl knows her shit." Peter muttered under his breath as he crossed his arms out of habit.

Y/N turned to face everyone and started explaining, "Okay so let's start at the beginning. Henry VII and Elizabeth York are married and they had four children, namely: Arthur, Henry, Margaret, and Mary Tudor. Henry VIII and Jane Seymour had a son; Edward VI. Unfortunately, Jane Seymour died during childbirth."

"Anyway, Henry VIII's sister, Mary Tudor, married Charles Brandon the First Duke of Suffolk. They had a daughter, Frances Grey which makes her and Edward VI cousins. She married Henry Grey and they had a daughter who we all know as Jane Grey, the nine-day queen. In short, Jane Grey is Edward VI's niece." Y/N explained. "I hope that answers your question, Nadine."

"It did, thanks." Nadine said.

"I think it's weird that she's his niece." Allison mumbled.

"Now to answer Austin's question," Y/N said as she put down the chalk and rubbed her hands together to remove the chalk dust. Peter offered her a hand sanitizer which she gladly took and put some on her hands before giving it back to Peter and rubbing it on both of her hands.

"When Edward VI was dying, he disinherited both of his sisters and made Jane Grey his successor. So when he actually died in 1553, Jane Grey became queen. She was only queen for 9 days because the public basically didn't want her, they wanted Mary, Henry VIII's eldest and Edward VI's sister, to be queen instead. When Mary became queen, she wanted Jane Grey to be executed but she was spared upon the wish of the ones in the Holy Roman Empire. She was still a prisoner in the Tower, of course. Then she actually got executed when she refused to convert." Y/N explained. Austin nodded and took notes, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Okay so, now we all know that Mary became queen because the public wanted it. Elizabeth's life changed once again when her sister became queen and she now lived with her sister at court. Mary decided to reinstate the Catholic faith and of course it caused an uproar and such. Then this man named Thomas Wyatt started a revolt against Mary and it all just went downhill from there. In stark comparison to her irrational sister, Mary, Elizabeth became a figure of reason and enlightenment."

"Elizabeth was removed from the throne once more and after the rebellion was quashed, Elizabeth was interrogated because Mary suspected that Elizabeth took part in the said rebellion. There was no proof that Elizabeth had taken part in the rebellion, but she was taken to the Tower of London where she stayed for two months. In there, she was repeatedly interrogated and questioned. She never wavered from the protestations of her innocence and her love for her sister. Then Elizabeth left her prison for Woodstock and she was in house arrest there for nearly a year and the public was beginning to side with Elizabeth because Mary was getting crazy and out of hand. Elizabeth remained under house arrest until Mary came up with something to remove the threat."

"What was the threat?" Angelica asked.

"Elizabeth's ever-growing popularity was the threat." Y/N answered. "That's why she was sent to Woodstock."

"As Mary was thinking of a way to get rid of Elizabeth, she fell pregnant or she was already pregnant. If Mary had a healthy child, Elizabeth wouldn't become queen. But being pregnant is not easy so, this meant that Mary had to find Elizabeth a place for succession if she were to die in childbirth."

"She ended up not giving birth because her pregnancy was just a figment of her damaged imagination. In short, it was just a phantom pregnancy. Mary's health declined and she died on November 17, 1558."

"If Mary didn't bring her back in line for succession, how did Elizabeth become queen, then?" Brad questioned.

Y/N smiled, "Elizabeth became queen under the terms of Henry VIII's will. Now that she's queen, she already knew what to do and what not to do based from her family members. She learned from them and used it as stepping stones to be a great queen."

"Thank you for listening!" Peter and Y/N in sync. Mrs. Johnson and the rest of the class clapped for them. Peter took the flash drive and gave it to Y/N as they went back to their seats. Mrs. Johnson got up from her seat and went to the front of the class, "Thank you, Mr. Parker and Ms. Y/L/N. That was an astounding presentation! Both of you really did you research and I'm proud of both of you. You guys didn't disappoint."

Peter and Y/N smiled at each other and gave each other a high five. The bell rang signalling that class was over. The students put their things away as they prepared to leave the room.

"To the ones presenting tomorrow, my expectations are high!" Mrs. Johnson called out. "Bye class!"

Everyone left the classroom and Y/N left ahead with Peter running after her. "Hey, Y/N!" Peter shouted as he caught up with her. Y/N stopped walking and looked at him. Peter reached her and said, "Thanks for backing me up in there. I have to admit, we were amazing."

"Yeah, we were." Y/N smiled. "We make a great team, huh? I'll see you in the next class. I have to go to the library."

Peter nodded as he watched her walk away. What they did in class was great; they were great as a team. Perhaps it wasn't so bad to include her in the team after all.

After the last class, he went to the compound to report to the rest of the Avengers. When he arrived in the meeting room, everyone was already there and he was late.

"There you are, Peter! Sit." Tony said. Peter didn't hesitate to sit down at the only empty seat. Everyone looked at Peter expectantly.

"So, how's recruiting going?" Steve asked as he looked at Peter intently.

"It's alright. We did a report together and we were great. I have a feeling we'll get a high grade on it." Peter smiled.

"Does this mean that you finally agree to adding her to the team?" Scott asked with a giddy voice.

Peter shrugged, "It doesn't hurt to add one more person with powers, right?"

* * * *

:)))) I hope y'all are proud of my fucking research

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @myblueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @justanothermarvelmaniac @itstaskeen @sandystoriess

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1​ @the-panwitch​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @holland-styles​ @halfblood-princess-505​ @spidey-reids-2003​

[june-louise]

The Telephone Call - part two

Since many of you felt robbed from what you had expected in the first telephone call, here is another one. Rated M.

Elizabeth/Philip from The Crown. Set during Philip’s Royal tour in season 2.

…

They had decided to have another telephone call before Philip went onboard Britannia again, and continuing his journey by sea. The tour, especially when making the planned stops, was pre-planned and mostly went on according to a busy schedule. Even though, Elizabeth had felt a sickness in her stomach these last couple of days. It was silly, she thought, because they had gone months without speaking and now, she had a hard time living through just a few days. Perhaps it had been better to not speak at all, because she seemed to have coped better then.

Wondering if people had noticed she had been distracted the whole day, Elizabeth made her way early – after putting the children to bed – to her private quarters. She could not focus on work anyway.  

She had made clear instructions that no one bother her, for anything, until morning. This could be the last call with Philip for an awfully long time, and everything else could wait. At least until morning.

As she undressed and pulled the white, linen nightgown over her head, she felt the familiar doubt clench her stomach. Maybe he had forgotten, or got hung up, or something was to be wrong with the telephone line. She tried to shrug the feeling off and focus on her night routine. She placed her feet into the slippers, and put the light pink silk robe around her, tightening it up to her neckline.  

To keep her distracted from waiting, after cleaning her skin, she sat by her desk and opened her diary.

“Tuesday.

Anne learned to write the alphabet; she has been struggling for weeks. We all celebrated her, and she was extremely proud. Charles, as the older child, also took part of the pride for helping teach his sister. I was proud of them both. They really should have a proper education. I must-“

She was interrupted by the familiar sound, and immediately put the pen down to go answer the telephone. She sat down in the sofa, a smile erupting on her face, as she spoke. “Hello.”

“Hello, darling,” Philip said in a smug voice, and she imagined him drawing an invisible line around his chin with his hand. “I am not calling too late, am I?” 

Elizabeth beamed, happy to hear his voice but also feeling a bit nervous. “No, no, darling.”

“Good, then.”

After a few moments silence, Elizabeth spoke. “I hope you have enjoyed yourself in the Falkland Islands. Must be a bit sad to get on the yacht again?”

“It’s been alright, although it’s getting a little tiresome to do this after so many weeks, you know. And I like it onboard Britannia. It’s become one’s home now.”

Elizabeth felt a sting of hurt by his words, as she was partly if not only to blame for him not being in their home right now. She cleared her throat. “Well, this home is waiting for your safe arrival. And we are happy that you are finally sailing closer to us with each day.” She hoped to reassure him that he was well-missed. “Charles even made a countdown, with help from Anne and me, so that everyday we feel you are closer to being with us again.” Elizabeth had found Charles’ idea of a countdown a great idea, so she had made sure to help him make a big painting with boxes they each day could put a mark over to mark the days left on the Royal tour.

Philip seemed touched as well, and his voice softened. “That sounds nice.” She could tell that he missed the children, and she again felt that sting of guilt for she knew that Philip had been against leaving the children in the first place. It was very much the same for the children, who kept asking her about where daddy was and what animals he was visiting.

“They miss you a lot, but they are alright,” Elizabeth tried to reassure him, not wanting him to be sad where he was hundreds of miles away.

“Well, not too long now,” Philip said with a sigh. “So, you helped them with the countdown,” he continued in question, this time in a lighter voice which made Elizabeth calm slightly.

“Yes,” she started, knowing her in the playing room was maybe not natural for him to imagine. “It was all Charles’ idea, though me and Anne assisted. I even made a drawing of you at his request.” Elizabeth chuckled, and Philip laughed out loud. They both knew she was a terrible painter, and that he was the artistic one of them two.

“Well, I am sure you are doing your best, but I am not sure you’re doing me justice.” He was referring to the drawing, although she knew his words replied to playing with the children in general, too. Elizabeth knew she could never replace him, even though she tried extra hard these days to be a good mother.

“Well, you will return soon and then all will be back to normal, with you being their favourite.” Elizabeth could not help but let her voice grow a bit harsh, covering up the fact that she was hurt and disappointed by the fact that she was and could not be a better mother. 

“You are a good mother, Elizabeth,” Philip tried to reassure her, recognising the cause of the shifted tone in her voice. He knew her better than she knew herself, a sometimes very annoying fact Elizabeth thought.

“We both know I could be better,” she sighed, knowing she was sulking but also knowing the words were partly truthful.  

Philip seemed unusually gentle. “Yes, and look at you now. Tucking them in, reading them books and even drawing.” Philip chuckled, and the mood grew lighter again. “What else could they possibly need?”

Elizabeth shook her head even though he could not see but could not help the smile spreading on her lips. Philip could somehow always make her feel more okay about herself. She knew that he accepted her, all parts of her, even the parts she sometimes found hard to accept herself. Elizbeth only ever hid from him when she was in denial or when she did not want to see herself. Because somehow, Philip always saw straight through her. As she imagined, she did with him.

Philip continued, his voice decisive and strong. “You are the queen. And a mother, a daughter, a sister. A wife. No one could do all those things like you do.”

Elizabeth felt herself soften, appreciating his words. “Thank you.”

“Now,” Philp said, and it was obvious that he wished to change the topic. “Since I might not get to talk to my wife for some time, tell me what you’re wearing so I will have something to be reminded of when I am out at sea.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, this time not as taken by surprise as their last call, and she felt an excitement spread through her body. “Well,” she started and played with the band of her robe close to her neckline. “I did prepare for bed, so I am in my nightgown-“

He interrupted her, ever as impatient. “Let me guess, you are sitting on the sofa and you have your pink robe on, all buttoned up.”

She chuckled, amused at how well he knew her, or how predictable she was. “You know me, not much surprise here.”

“I do know you,” Philip agreed, and she could hear him shift on his side of the line. “And I do know how to unbutton that robe,” he continued suggestively. “Pretty as it is on you, why don’t you loosen it up for me?”

She found that it was suddenly too hot and thought that his suggestion was indeed a good idea. She started to loosen the bands of the robe. “Alright, I will.” She released the bands and opened the buttons holding the fabric together, deciding to take it off completely, pulling her arms out of the silk fabric and let the robe fall from her shoulders. She was left in the nightgown, covering her from top to toe.

“Better,” Philip asked after a few moments, his voice causing shivers run through her body not at all caused by the absence of the robe.

“Yes,” Elizabeth mumbled as she composed her beathing.

Philip continued, the playfulness in his voice making her giddy. “Now, if I dare be bold enough to ask you another favour?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered, anxiously wanting to know what he was about to ask.

“Since I am only wearing my robe, why don’t you do the same? You know how I love your bare skin underneath that robe?”

Elizabeth was now full on blushing, slightly surprised by how much she was enjoying this. Hearing his voice, imagining him on the other side of the line and being the one making him feel good.

“Hold on,” she said and put the phone down on the cushions next to her. She stood up, stepped out of the slippers and lifted the gown over her head. She could not help but imagine it was Philip doing it, his strong hands lifting the white fabric, carefully brushing against her skin as the gown was removed from her body.

She was left naked for just a moment, and she took a glance around her, strangely feeling a bit funny naked in her own bedroom. She placed the gown and slippers on the opposite chair and lifted the robe to bring it around her body again, this time feeling the soft silk against her bare skin.

“Elizabeth,” she heard Philip’s voice through the abandoned phone and quickly picked it up.

“Sorry, darling. Could not do it with the phone in my hand.”

She heard him groan. “You’re killing me here.”

“I only did what you asked, dear.” Elizabeth said and smiled, loving the effect she had on him. She sat down again on the sofa and imagined Philip in his room. “Are you on the bed again?”

“I am, and I am getting quite worked up here,” Philip said, and she thought she heard a soft moan. She felt her neck redden at the thought of him on the bed, and what he could mean by getting worked up.

She straightened where she sat and felt her chest tighten. She knew her breasts was one of his favourite things and he was usually quite fast to give them his attention whenever they were alone and in bed.

“What are you thinking about,” he asked and interrupted her thoughts. Her breathing was quite exasperated, and she again shifted.

“I,” she started, but her mouth was dry, and she had to swallow. She nervously laughed.

“Tell me,” he encouraged, and she gave in.

“About you where you are, and what you would do if you were here with me.”

“And what would I do, Elizabeth,” he pressed.  

She closed her eyes and felt her breathing quicken. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “Touch me.”

“I would,” Philip concurred. “Where would I touch you?”

“My breasts,” Elizabeth got out as if the words were somewhat forbidden. She was not used to talk like this, even though she had no problem doing said things with him. This was different, more intimate somehow.

Philip moaned again and she felt a relief and safety knowing that he was enjoying this as much as she was, even though she did not know what to do or say. “I would. I’d touch that soft, perfect skin.” She kept her eyes closed and imagined he would press his hands through the opening of her robe and take her breast into his hands, caressing the skin, his thumbs rubbing the hardness of her nipples. He always was an excellent lover, having no problem worshiping her in bed. She let a moan escape her lips and surprised to hear herself she opened her eyes, her heart beating hard against her chest.

Philip kept talking to her though, urging her to close her eyes . “You’d close your eyes, enjoying the feeling. I love those breasts almost as much as I love watching your pleasure from my touch, so I would watch you, as I first touched you with my hands, and thumbs. I would not be able to stop myself from touching you with my lips though, so I’d kiss you-,” he interrupted himself and she heard his intake of breath. “Are you touching yourself, darling,” he softly said, and it was not as much of a question but an urge.

Elizabeth carefully let her hand travel up her robe and move over the sensitive skin through the fabric, “Yes,” she whispered and hearing his content moan she let her hand wander underneath the robe to mimic what his hand would have done. She released a moan and felt a warmth rush to her most private parts. “It feels good.”

“I bet it does,” Philip sighed in equal pleasure, and Elizabeth thought about where his actual hand was at this moment.

“You know,” she started tenderly. “As much as I love your kisses, there, if you were here, I’d want to kiss your lips. Really kiss you. It makes me feel close to you,” she softly said and felt herself long for his lips, his tongue, his taste. “And I’d remove the robes, so I could feel your skin against mine.” It was almost too much, too much want for him to be near, and she felt herself grow braver by each second of desire. Why had she ever let herself think it was a good idea to be away from each other for this long?

“I’d hold you close, pressing your skin against me, kissing you until we’d have to stop for air. Then I’d kiss the skin on your neck, breathing in your wonderful smell,” he continued ever as eager and she could almost feel his lips peppering her neck with kisses, his tongue tasting her, causing waves of pleasure run through her body. She imagined clinging to him, wanting him closer, hooking her legs around his.

“It would all be too much, and I’d want you closer,” she whispered into his ear and it was almost as if the phone was not there as a barrier between them. “I’d pull you down on me and wrap my legs around yours.”

Her last words seemed to be too much for him, and she heard him groan. Instinctively she realised she had widened her legs, and as she opened her eyes, she saw that the robe had fallen open. It felt strange to see herself like this, so she closed her eyes again and imagined Philip was there with her.

Philip moaned into her ear and spoke. “I’d reach my hand down to feel you, make sure you were ready,” he said, and Elizabeth gasped, carefully letting her hand mimic what Philip’s would do.

“I’d do the same, to you,” she murmured and imagined his hand mimicking what hers would do. She could almost feel him, the familiar warmth of him. “I would be ready,” Elizabeth whispered after a few more moments and felt her body tingle as she awaited for what to come next. To feel him, be as close together as two people could be.

“Me, too,” Philip whispered as their breathing fell in sync, their moans creating a melody of pleasure. 

[tartheanmaid]

Chapter 4: The Apple Tree

prologue // chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3

     Whispers filled the teacherless classroom. Professor Slughorn wasn’t usually this late, sometimes he was late by 5 minutes or so, but 15? That was unheard of. The whispers conceded as the sound of heels on stone grew continuously louder. Madame Pomfrey walked through the archway as Professor Slughorn followed behind her. He strayed from her as he went to collect his demonstration of the day’s lesson from his stores.

     “I suppose some of you might be wondering why I am attending your class today.” The blonde woman said. Her eyes scanned the classroom. “Your Professor has asked me to stand by for this lesson should any of you go into catatonic shock as a result of what you might uncover. Usually I would argue against the teaching of such a potion but you all are N.E.W.T. students so you should be able to handle yourselves. If not, I’ll be here.”

     Hermione leaned closer to Harry as she whispered in his ear. “What do you think the potion is? A potion that could have such a severe result even when brewed correctly is most definitely not on the Hogwarts curriculum.”

     “Yeah it isn’t I don’t think.” Harry said, looking over at Hermione, whose face was inches from his. “Slughorn offered to teach it to the class after I told him about my dream. He said it uncovered blocked memories.”

     “So it might help you remember that woman’s name.” Ron chimed in.

     “Yeah, hopefully it does.”

~ ~ ~

     Harry could feel the sweat dripping down his face. It was known amongst the school that the potions classroom had very poor ventilation, and since the windows Professor Slughorn had charmed in were just that. Charmed windows. It’s not like he could open them to provide fresh air to the class. 

     “Alright everyone!” The Professor clapped his hands to get his students’ attention. “Now that some of you are close to finishing your potions I need you to listen closely. You are not to drink the potion you have brewed until—”

     A scream was heard on the other side of the classroom. Harry looked up to see Parkinson with her hands over her mouth. Malfoy had dropped to the ground. Seamus raised hand and looked at Professor Slughorn from the table next to Harry. Slughorn nodded at Seamus, beckoning him to speak.

     “What happened? Why’d he faint?”

     Snickers from around the classroom could be heard, most notably from Ron and Hermione who were sitting just beside Harry. Harry seemed to be the only Gryffindor who wasn’t laughing at Malfoy fainting. Instead Harry had questions. Questions that he knew Slughorn wouldn’t answer. Before Slughorn could answer Seamus’s question Harry blurted out his own.

     “What did he see? He saw something, that’s what made him go into shock like you said.”

     “Very well Mr. Potter! I would award you house points but since you interrupted me I can’t. To answer your question Harry I can’t show you, that would be a violation of Mr. Malfoy’s privacy.”

     Hermione, obviously curious, spoke up in favor of showing the vision. “But Professor, didn’t you tell Harry that you were going to show everyone’s at the end of the class? What does it matter now versus then? Most of the class isn’t finished with theirs yet, Malfoy is just good at potions.”

     “Did I? I don’t remember that…” Professor Slughorn stopped to think. “Very well, what harm can it do.”

     Hermione looked back at Harry and Ron with a devilish smile on her face. “You lied!” Ron whispered. 

     “So what if I did? He’s showing the vision.” Ron and Hermione seemed to look at each other and have a moment of mutual understanding, almost like they were communicating telepathically. Slughorn dimmed the lights in the potions room and because Madam Pomfrey wasn’t there to argue against it, he brought the cauldron Malfoy had used to the center of the classroom so that all students could view the vision equally.

     The vision started with Narcissa Malfoy walking through the grounds on Malfoy Manor. She was wearing black heels, a black dress with a queen anne neckline, and bright red lipstick. Her hair was done up behind her head in braids. She wore a smug expression upon her face like it was meant to be there. Her wand was drawn in her hand as she walked through the grass. Finally, the vision panned to show what she was walking towards. A large tree stood in the distance, the tree had perfect red apples on it. Harry thought the tree looked eerily familiar, but it couldn’t be. He had never been to Malfoy Manor before.

     The Malfoy woman walked closer to the tree, as she got closer it became apparent that there was something etched into the bark. There was a sun drawn into the bark, inside it there were two sets of initials. Both linked through a plus sign between them.

                                                          AE + LM

     Harry scrambled to pull out a piece of parchment and write down the initials etched into the tree. Quickly Harry turned his attention back to what was being shown in front of him, not wanting to miss a single second. He noticed that Narcissa Malfoy looked notably younger than she did in the newspaper articles about her husband’s arrest. Pointing her wand at the tree it burst into flames. The vision panned back to show her face but you could still see the large fire reflected in her eyes. Continuing to smile at the growing fire she said only two words and a name.

     “I win Anyleyia.”

masterlist

[eustochium]

not that anyone asked, but having laid out my favorite Christ paintings I’m now still in the mood to talk about art so I’m going to tell the void about Holbein, Tudor queens and unintended consequences.

Dr. Katrina Marchant has put forward, echoing the sentiments of many other historians, that Holbein’s portraiture is a major reason why the Tudor period persists so strongly in popular imagination, and why so many of these figures feel so real and so human to us almost five centuries after their deaths. I tend to partly agree. We can’t discount the enduring mythos of Good Queen Bess, Gloriana, her Golden Age. Or the persistent (and propagandistic) influence of Billy Shakespeare, English literature’s most talented Tudor toady. Not to mention, putting aside the theological impact, the sheer scandal and melodrama of God’s anointed king cycling through six wives, with 33% of those queens consort ending up sent to the scaffold. But really, in examining the sources firsthand, we find shockingly little about those queens, whether or not they went to the grave with their heads or their marriages intact. We know, with real certainty, just one of their birthdays—of course Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain ensured their youngest daughter Catherine entered the world to a flurry of fanfare. (December 16th, 1485–a stubborn, methodical, intelligent Sagittarius, if you’re into that.) We know Katherine Parr was not a passive nursemaid for the aged and ailing Henry by her named publications on religious matters (and by an absolutely fantastic non-Holbein portrait that shows her in full-length view, dressed in ermine and trodding on a Persian rug) and we know that Holbein couldn’t have sanitized Anne of Cleves’ looks that much, contrary to Henry’s supposed fussing, given that dear old Hans kept both his position as court painter and his head. But through deliberate destruction (as in the case of Anne Boleyn) or general uncertainty (in poor Katherine Howard) we have only a handful of images we can speculate might possibly be one of the doomed queens.

To pan out back to Holbein for a moment: Something truly striking is how alive his subjects look. Sure, maybe a little fluff and flattery here and there is par for the course. I’m just going to show his women here for reasons that will become obvious, but look at the expressiveness!

Mary, Lady Guildford (1527)

Poor sweet, dear Queen Jane Seymour in 1537

Lady Margaret Wyatt (c. 1540)

A demure but disinterested Christina of Milan (1538)

I think you get my point. Just total mastery of all the subtleties and nuances of the human face.

Bringing it back to Katherine Howard. Most of us know the story by now. A young girl is seduced, or manipulated, or raped, by an affectionate music teacher. As an adolescent, she is seduced, or manipulated, or raped by an amorous courtier in her noble relative’s house. She is later brought to the royal court where she is seduced, or manipulated, or raped, by an aging and half-mad king swollen with gout and stinking with unhealed and festering wounds. He’s already executed one wife, forsaken two, lost another to childbed fever. The girl is seduced, or manipulated, or raped, by a “beautiful youth” who serves the king’s privy chamber. For this, the girl and all the courtiers are dragged to the chopping block and beheaded. She is about eighteen years old.

Only three existing painted portraits are speculated to be of Katherine. (We won’t bother ourselves with sketches, drafts, or engravings.) All three are by Holbein, or at least his workshop. All three are from roughly 1540, about a year before she was interrogated, tried, and executed. All three are simply branded with the moniker “Portrait of a Lady.” They are all relatively consistent in appearance, with one exception.

Here are the first two:

There she is—a lady with fair skin, auburn hair, a longish nose, a small smile, a slight flirtation in her eyes (at least on the first miniature) and donning a french hood (as Katherine was known to wear, apocryphally brought into English fashion by Henry’s earlier beheaded queen, Anne Boleyn) as opposed to a traditionally English gabled hood. She looks young, though not drastically so (Katherine would have been anywhere from 15 to 17 upon her marriage to Henry) but hey, maybe people aged more quickly then. By my 17th birthday I certainly looked worse for wear. The first image a characteristic Tudor bodice and neckline, while the latter showcases a very distinct set of large, ribbon-trimmed sleeves. Bear this in mind when gazing at the final image, in which her gown has both.

To me, this portrait shows us Katherine. The other two, which may or may not be her, have about as much certainty of attribution as this one. The inscription on this painting, however, explicitly states that the sitter is seventeen years old.

But look at that face. Same eyes and nose and hair as the others, but something so distinctive about that face. Feels almost too modern in her youthfulness. This face could be peering out at you from a TikTok video. Surely if all three portraits were of the same sitter, Holbein would, in his way, have taken pains to consistently capture such a girlish countenance and that instagram-ready pout?

But not quite. Let’s defer to The Met.

Because it generally exhibits typical characteristics of Holbein portraiture, this picture was at first highly praised and confidently attributed to the artist. Yet, by the mid-1870s, when the second edition of Woltmann's Holbein monograph appeared, the painting was identified as "presumably Holbein," and Woltmann's changed opinion initiated the negative assessments that the picture subsequently received. Some have considered it a clever pastiche, possibly from the artist's late portraits, while others still gave it to Holbein's workshop. In the 1995 summary catalogue of the Museum's collection of European paintings, Baetjer designated it a British copy in the style of Holbein from the second half of the sixteenth century.

Despite its poor state and the absence of Holbein's sophisticated execution in the face and details of the costume, technical investigation (see figs. 1–2 above) did reveal the routine methods of portraits made in the artist's workshop during the 1540s. There is no extant preparatory drawing for the portrait, but the rigid underdrawing outlining the head and facial features indicated a one-to-one transfer from a pattern on paper to the prepared panel, the customary practice devised by Holbein for portraits made from 1532 to 1543, during his second period in England.

The painting has been abraded and extensively restored. The originally cool, vibrant blue background has been overpainted with a grayish blue-green paint. A rectangular area of restoration above the arm at the far right appears yellowish. There are restored areas in the dark clothing and the face. Retouching of the mouth may contribute to the exaggerated pout.

So, a bad retouching job. Maybe a slightly sloppier apprentice. Insufficient coordination. Whatever. They can’t all be masterworks, right?

But somehow, since I saw this portrait, I can’t shake it—that is the face of poor, doomed Katherine. The face of a girl who lacked the virginal purity the king demanded of his young fifth wife, and who lacked the experience and acumen to play the game to save herself. Hell, that might not have been enough—all the good it did Anne in the Tower. Intended, unintended, misattributed, who knows? We don’t need certainty when we have circumstance. We already have the story, however we decide to tell it. We already have all the characters in place. All we need are the faces to go with them. They too had faces, then.