#and jane was not even as queen. i...highly. doubt

[fideidefenswhore]

Anne's ability to hold the king off for seven years is part of her legend. The brilliance of her strategy was to cast herself in the role of the courtly lady, requiring Henry to play to perfect knight. Henry was nothing if not dogged in the pursuit of all the roles in which he cast himself—philosopher-king, warrior, even husband—and 'this persona of courtly lover...was fully formed in Henry and had been signaling...for an answering adept to come and lift its latch. In Anne, he had her: she was the mistress of Petrarchan contraries [...] the perfect [player] for the king's tender interest.'

Renaissance Prince: Elizabeth, Lisa Hilton

[richmond-rex]

this sounds a little petty 😂 - or maybe it's a genuinely valid piece of frustration, idk - but whenever I see a list of Tudor queens or Tudor queen consorts and Elizabeth of York is either 1) not on the list or 2) regarded as one of the less "important" (what does that even mean? idk but people keep saying it) queens, it irritates me so much. You'd think people who care about the Tudors as a historical dynasty would give the first Tudor queen her due, but apparently the most she's good for is vague and rather inaccurate comparisons with Henry VIII's queens. Particularly Jane Seymour, even though I really don't think there's much of a "parallel" between the two women's personalities, queenship, marriages or even appearance at all.

Elizabeth was SO IMPORTANT for the inception of the dynasty. So damn important. Henry VII's route to kingship from 1483 did not begin with him. It didn't begin with him angling for the throne or people angling for his right to the throne. It began with Yorkist supporters trying to put the Princes on the throne and then beginning to consider their sister Elizabeth of York as the Yorkist heiress. Their loyalty to Henry VII was primarily as the future husband of Elizabeth of York, that's where he gained the majority of his new supporters, including William Stanley who was of immense, history-altering help in Bosworth, came from. (I thiiiink you had reblogged a post of yours with someone's additional added tags about this that framed it a lot better, recently but I can't find it rip). That is obviously not discounting Henry's competence or his capabilities or his victory, or Margaret Beaufort's admirable actions, but I just feel like Elizabeth of York's importance to the Tudor dynasty can never be overstated. Her position as his queen and wife were so important for his road to kingship AND the way he secured his reign and dynasty afterwards. Without Elizabeth of York, it's highly doubtful that Henry would have been able to gain the throne the way he did (at least, not without a significant more time, effort and a MUCH higher chance of failure) and it's also doubtful that he'd be able to secure it the way he did, because their unification from two opposing sides was a major factor in his propaganda and collective perception of their marriage, and the comfort, strength and support it evoked.

Obviously, this is within the bracket of the Tudor queens (because they're a very famous dynasty and all their queens are significantly better known than a lot of former or latter ones), but it's just frustrating??

again - I hope this doesn't sound very petty 😂

Hi! Sorry for taking so long to reply, but don't worry I get your frustration completely (and I share it too). I remember once seeing an incredibly pretty illustration for the Tudor consorts depicting all of Henry VIII's queens AND Philip of Spain..... and it didn't include Elizabeth of York. After Catherine of Aragon, Elizabeth was the longest reigning Tudor consort, being queen for no less than seventeen (17) years! She was immensely popular at her time which can be attested not only by the several presents she received from noble and common folk alike but also by the fact that she was the subject of a popular ballad that reimagined her as a romantic heroine (The Most Pleasant Song of the Lady Bessy), and the subject of songs during her lifetime. Her death was lamented by commentators from Ireland to Rome, and her reputation for charity was well-known. She was so popular in her time, it's a bit ironic that she has become, as Amy Licence puts it, 'the forgotten Tudor queen'.

(Of course, it's all relative as you said: we're talking about the Tudor perspective. Elizabeth is still more well-known than Philippa of Hainault or Anne of Bohemia, for example, if only because she's known in relation to the drama of her brothers and uncle, or because she's known as Henry VIII's mother).

In terms of importance, it's staggering how much her role has been downplayed. And I'm not only talking about the establishment of the Tudor dynasty, which is usually cited if only in brief terms. Her legacy lived on. As pointed out by Michelle Beer, for both Catherine of Aragon and Margaret Tudor, Elizabeth was the only queen consort whom they had experience observing, and her queenship style would have impacted their own. But going back to the establishment of her husband's reign, her importance was so much more than simply providing him with the supporters he needed (which is so often reduced to merely 'lifting a finger for a wedding ring'). I will never tire of pointing out Elizabeth's active participation in diplomacy, communicating with European princes in order to protect her husband's interests. If on one hand, Margaret of York was writing to the Pope asking him to lift his sanction of Henry VII, Elizabeth of York was writing to him to do exactly the contrary and reinforce his sanction.

She was an integral element of her husband's reign that went beyond her dynastic blood. Elizabeth provided a more human/accessible image at court celebrations and feasts, formal occasions and receptions of foreign delegations. Not for nothing, she was so frequently found at Henry VII's side on those occasions. Symbolically, she seems to have been greatly valued by Henry too, and I don't mean it simply by how her family symbol, the white rose, was integrated into official Tudor imagery. I'm also talking about how much weight he seems to have given to their union. In terms of art commissions done by Henry, their marriage was constantly alluded to in a way that referenced prophetic discourse: we have their marriage bed where Henry and Elizabeth are portrayed as the new Adam and Eve (Christ and the Virgin), the royal chapel at Greenwich where they were depicted holding hands (I will talk about it in the future), the family portrait where Henry and Elizabeth are depicted as if re-enacting their wedding vows, and even the shared tomb he commissioned.

Elizabeth of York was important and was valued on so many fronts, I daresay she was one of the most efficient queens in terms of successfully upholding her husband's reign. When it comes to Henry's ascension, I think Elizabeth and Margaret Beaufort might have been equally important (considering Margaret's articulation/funding and her claim from which Henry derived his own). But after Henry's ascension, my opinion is that Elizabeth was even more important for all the political, symbolic and of course, emotional support she provided her husband. They seem to have been a very effective partnership, and I doubt his reign would have been as successful as it was if it wasn't for Elizabeth.

So yeah, it is frustrating that she's not given the real importance that she's due when it comes to discussing Tudor history. Whenever she is talked about, she's so commonly relegated to a passive dynastic and decorative role, a trophy wife, it's insane.

[333creolelady]

10 more scenes/couples that influenced LOTBB a thread:

1. Bridgerton(2020)-Daphne and Simon were absolute rabbits in the first season of Bridgerton. Daphne has a naivety about what “the act” is . Jane doesn’t have that. However, she shares Daphne’s confusion about the “mechanics” of pleasure. Realizing that it’s a thing that people can and actually do all the time. And later on in the first season, we see Daphne get to know herself and understand what she likes and not feel ashamed about it. I wanted that for Jane. Simon’s confidence is also really appealing and I wanted to apply some of those traits to Roman in some way or another. I think these two scenes represent different aspects in the book regarding Jane and Roman’s relationship and how they communicate: Here & Here.

2. Queen Charolette (2023). Do I even need to mention how moving Queen Charolette was ? If you haven’t watched it then I highly recommend that you do! Such a touching story and their dance scene is certainly influential in what I’ll be incorporating into chapter 9, the chapter I’m most excited about. Here

3. Bridgerton(2021) Storm scene anyone ??? This scene was the catalyst for chapter 3: Here

4. Jane Eyere (2011). All of Jane’s doubts about men. And and Easter egg…I’ll leave it at that. Here

5. POTC Stranger Tides (2011). Every Pirate film needs a good mermaid scene. On stranger tides had a great mermaid scene that helped shape chapter 7. Here

6. Original sin (2001) “I will give you as many moments, days, nights as you need. And when you want me to come to you, I will. Not before.” : Here I’m swooning if you couldn’t tell.

7. Marie Antoinette (2006) Chapter 9 Easter’s eggs. Here & here

8. Castlevania(2017) “ We have a second chance. And a brand new future” 👀👀 If you know anything about Dracula (I go berserk behind my wife) Tepes, then you know why I modeled Roman after him. Here

[zemkzone]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

I was tagged by @simpledontmeanpeachy. Figured I'd do this for fun.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Oof. I've written eight at this point. Oof.

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

As of December 16, 2023... 546,575. Most of it in the last two years.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

In my A03 life, I've written for Hannibal (NBC-centric Hannigram) and the CW Arrowverse. Mostly ColdFlash, but that's not where I started! I segued into Sladiver for a bit.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

When Lightning Hits Ice (ColdFlash, 979)

In Opposition of Solitude (Hannigram, 918)

Let the Unpredicted and InevitableUnfold (Hannigram, 656)

Strongholds of the Mind (Sladiver, 386)

That Rare Arctic Thunderstorm (ColdFlash, 186)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Oh, absolutely! I love hearing what my readers think. If it's a long comment, I'll do my best to respond in kind without giving away too much of what's coming next. But even if it's just emojis or an "I love this", I will at the very least say thank you. I am grateful for whatever way you choose to express your thoughts about what you've read, and it certainly helps keep me motivated!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooooof. Okay, considering it's also my only story on indefinite hiatus, it's Strongholds of the Mind. I wasn't in a good headspace at the time to deal with writing ansty!betrayed!Oliver properly. If we're talking completed fics, does When Lightning Hits Ice count? But there is a sequel and the other one-shots connected to it in my Sparks in the Ice series.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm... That has to be Perspective: A Regency Romance. After all, it's based off a Jane Austen novel and you cannot fault a good romantic and economical happy ending. :D

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No. But I have had one nagging misunderstanding. And I simply refuse to engage with it.

9. Do you write smut?

Oh, yes, baby, fuck yes~! You guys can tell me if you like the way I do it or not.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Hmmm... Closest I've gotten is Perspective: A Regency Romance. Or basing OCs in my works on characters from other series. If you can guess who Mike and Avigail Birnbaum are loosely based of, kudos to you!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Really? See, this is why I prefer to play around with the canon universes. I worry enough about my original writing staying safe.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not as of yet! It's a dauntless task on a good day, and this is FANdom. Translating involves so much more work beyond a a direct substitution like "what is the word for 'apple' in XYZ language?"

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but I have been seduced inspired into writing particular scenes by the highly skilled artist @hardwiredweird.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

To write? ColdFlash. Just because it's pushing all the right buttons for me at this point and honestly, I've got entirely too many thoughts about the state of linked TV series writing NOT to. But I devour Hannigram and other similar (okay, not quite similar) pairings when I don't have the bandwith for writing or I'm in transit and a physical book would be out of the question.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I could wax determinedly about my three-year-plan to finish Strongholds of the Mind, but I don't really know if I will. Will I probably hint at Sladiver in my other works? Maybe. But I don't know if it's healthy for me to be in Oliver Queen's head at that stage in the narrative. Leonard Snart's is all rainbows and unicorns by compare, in my books. And Hannibal Lecter. He's fine, like the finest of wines. What does that say about me?

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Foremost, I think it's my planning and plotting. There's a time and place for instant gratification, and while I do sprinkle that in, I'm in things for the long haul lately. I don't get distracted from a project easily, either. I do have a few ideas bouncing around at any given point, but I like letting them percolate for a while so I can both work on my current one satisfactorily and give the floaty ideas time to concretize into something worth writing. After that, I think it's my characterization, if only because I'm willing to ask the disturbing, uncomfortable questions of perfect strangers and do the most idiotic and crazy things to get the experience to make things as real as possible. I'm thorough. I won't release a chapter until I'm sure that I've written well past it and it still ties in together correctly.

Something I've also been told repeatedly that I do well, so I've become quite conscious of ensuring it, is cinematic writing. I want readers to be able to "see" what's going on. I'm actually constantly studying ways to make scenes come alive that way these days.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Doubts. I sometimes finish a chapter or a piece and I'm suddenly struck with the horiffying thought I've fucked up bigtime or, more often, I've missed something important... which, let's be real, you can go back and fix in A03-land or your word processor. But the doubt persists, and that is an enternal issue I'm still working through.

On a more technical note, I am in absolute agony when I write group scenes—so I force myself to keep doing them. It's hard enough to balance dialogue without the tags, with enough intent, meaning, etc. Add in three or more extra people, and it's a game of keeping track of everyone and still making the scenes seem natural. Also, as a lot of M/M or F/F shippers must feel, it's a fun trip when you're using the same pronouns for both parts of a couple, isn't it? As an extension of that, I'm pushing myself to work with ensemble casts, as readers of my Sparks in the Ice series may have noticed. It's lovely for my writing practice, so I'm gunna keep at it till I can tick this off my to study list. I don't think there's any part of writing I find particularly easy, even if I've listed it as a strength. I've been stumped for hours or days on scenes that I don't have any exact frame of reference for.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm mostly comfortable with it. I do it in both my fanfiction and my original work. English is my first language, but I'm semi-fluent in two others, passably conversational in another, and currently baby-step learning a new one. I think it's a prerequisit for any Arrowverse scene that involves Hartley talking with Cisco and/or Eobard-Thawne-as-Harrison-Wells. For any language I'm not familiar with, I consult friends and the great wide interwebs.

But there's a caveat there. When you use languages that stray from the one most of the text is written in, there has to be a DAMNED good reason. If you can layer at least two reasons for this sentence/phrase to NOT be in English, consider it. If it's just for the sake of you, the writer, wanting to show off, skip it. At least, that's my personal rule. E.g. Hartley and Cisco talking: For Hartley, it's a refresher that he can speak these languages and, because of the choice of things he says, it reveals something of his snootiness and educational/cultural leanings. For Cisco, it's because he grew up bilingual to an extent, and his wording implies a casual, day-to-day useage in opposition to hifalutin Hart-speak.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ohhhh... I don't recall, since I had a horribly long hiatus from writing in my teens, which I'm long past at this point. When I hit A03 in...2016, though, I ran headlong into Hannigram.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Hmmm... I don't actually have one. I feel a sense of quiet achievement every time I finish a project, be it a chaptered fic or a one-shot. But I still have a LOT to say in my Sparks in the Ice series. I guess, in a way, that does make it a favorite, doesn't it?

I'm not tagging anyone specifically, but if you're reading this loooong post and feel like taking it on yourself, go right ahead!

[janeofcakes]

Persistence 2: Chapter 10

Hi ho! It’s your friendly neighborhood Johnlocker here, Jane o’Cakes, returning to you for another installment. What will happen this time can be summed up in two words: Enter Iceman.

------

“It will be in place tomorrow and your appointment as Prime Minister announced the following day,” Anthea reported from Mycroft Holmes’ side as they walked through the hall. Her eyes were on her blackberry, but she did not need to raise them. These were steps she had walked a thousand times over.

“Perfect,” Mycroft replied with a slight curve of his lips. “Thank you, Anthea. You are a miracle worker.”

“I think we both know who really holds that title,” Anthea glanced at him with a matching upturn to her mouth. “I never thought she’d talk you into it.”

“Indeed,” Mycroft answered thoughtfully.

***

It had been quite a surprise when he was called to the palace that day. Anthea had rung to tell him of the invitation before the sun was up. He ran through scenarios as he showered and dressed, each more catastrophic than the last. When he had arrived, he was not shown to one of the typical lounges or meeting rooms, but a dining room he had never seen before. Her Majesty joined him almost immediately, much to his shock. Even the most dire and pressing circumstances that had required his attention in the past were presented by ministers or other government personnel. He, like most, had very little contact with the Royals. In fact, they seldom involved themselves in the nuances of the British Government.

Mycroft was shocked to say the least, not that anyone would have known. He had mastered the art of masking his emotions long ago. Her Majesty had engaged in quiet conversation while they were served breakfast and left alone to eat. Mycroft answered her questions politely and made a mental note to thank his wife, Molly Hooper-Holmes for teaching him the art of small talk.

The Queen fell silent as Mycroft sipped tea from a delicate cup covered with hand-painted periwinkles. He tried to anticipate her next words as she came to the crux of the meeting and found his mind blank. It was not a feeling he enjoyed and had only experienced a handful of times in his life, mostly at the hands of his brother, though he would never admit it. The sentiment shifted to incredulity when she began to explain her motives. Prime Minister. She wanted him to become Prime Minister and even had a plan to make it so. She laid it all out before him: How he would gain the confidence of the House of Commons, how he would become the figurative leader of the coalition of parties that held the largest number of seats in the chamber, and so on. It was a brilliant plan and he had no doubt it would work. When she was finished speaking, she had looked him dead in the eye and said that only one thing remained; was he willing to take the position?

Her Majesty had hand-picked him for his entire repertoire of work. He had no idea how she knew so much about his career. The vast majority of it was highly classified and typically kept from most for the sake of plausible deniability, but she seemed to know everything and wanted someone with his skill set. A time of great change to the British Isles was on the horizon, she warned, and the usual sort of Prime Minister would not get England through to the other side. She did not reveal more, but Mycroft did not need a detailed explanation to understand her meaning and take it very seriously.

Mycroft had much on his mind when he left the palace that day. It was all a jumble in his normally immaculate brain and there was only one person who could help him regain beloved order. As soon as he closed the door to his car, he had asked Anthea to reschedule all of his meetings for the day and headed home. Molly’s beautiful smile and bright eyes greeted him in surprise when he walked into the studio. A true balm for his soul. She liked to paint and make pottery on her days off from St. Bart’s, of which it was blessedly one. The expression faded from her face the moment she took in the lines of worry on his forehead and the stormy look in his eyes. Hands cupping his cheeks, she nodded knowingly and said ‘Tell me, Myc.’ and that was that. They sat and he told her everything. He said nothing about how torn he felt. He didn’t need to.

“I know you have a strong sense of duty. All too well, in fact,” Molly had said with an arched brow and rueful glint in her eye, “but forget queen and country right now.”

Mycroft’s brows had shot up at that, yet he had said nothing.

“You love challenges and excel in even your more public tasks, though you’d never agree,” she reached for his hand and he grasped hers tightly. She gave him a brilliant grin. “I have no doubt you can do this and I’m sure you don’t either.”

That warmed his cheeks and put a small smile on his face. Her unwavering confidence in him made his spirit soar. No one in his life had ever made him feel the way Molly did. It was something he had never expected to find, or to want, but he could not imagine life without her.

“I want to do it,” Mycroft had told her, his voice filled with quiet excitement. “Not out of duty. For myself.”

“I know,” Molly smiled and kissed him.

***

The barest traces of a smile graced Mycroft’s lips as he remembered that day from months ago. It might have even lingered a while longer after entering his office. He certainly would have continued his conversation with Anthea, but all of his plans for the morning went up in flames at the sight that greeted him upon opening the office door. In the middle of the room, stood the startled figure of his little brother. Naturally, Sherlock schooled his expression when Mycroft and Anthea entered, adopting a business-like posture. It was true that their brotherly relationship had grown in the last few months and they had begun to trust one another more, but they were still far from quiet evenings reminiscing over childhood tales or ‘hugging it out’. God, how they had both rolled their eyes the first time Molly had said that. She and John had laughed their asses right off, as the good doctor would say.

Mycroft was about to address his brother, mainly to tell him to leave, until his eyes slid down to Sherlock’s stocking feet. His trousers and button-down shirt were in perfect order, as were his curls. His usual suit coat and Belstaff were missing, however. He had every appearance of lounging about in his own flat, a look Mycroft had seen each time he paid 221B a visit, so what was he doing in Mycroft’s office? While a missing coat was one thing, how had he gotten there without his shoes?

“Anthea,” Mycroft said slowly, turning his head just enough to catch her eye, “I’m sorry. Would you excuse us for a moment? I feel my brother and I are in need of a conversation.”

“Of course,” she pulled her gaze from Sherlock’s feet and nodded curtly. Her shoulders were tense and she clearly had the same questions Mycroft did. “I’ll just take care of a few things outside. We do have a schedule to keep.”

“I won’t be long,” Mycroft assured her smoothly. “Thank you.”

The elder turned a forbidding eye to the younger as soon as the door snicked closed.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft’s voice was like steel wool disguised as silk. Of all the days for his baby brother to appear out of nowhere, and in such a state, today was quite probably the worst. Given all that was in motion, he had little time for anything not already on his schedule. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“John and I request an audience,” Sherlock replied with a theatrical bow and a tone laden with sarcasm. Mycroft raised his brows in expectation as the detective added: “Greg too, and a… doctor.”

“Ah,” Mycroft said conspiratorially, seeing the pieces click into place, “has our Detective Inspector finally found his own Dr. Watson after the unfortunate entanglement with Mary Morstan? Should I expect a happy announcement soon?”

Sherlock stared at him with one brow cocked, obviously recalling the familiar words. He looked thoroughly unamused. Mycroft’s sly grin grew, even as his brother sneered.

“Oh my god,” the detective’s voice dripped with disdain. “Has Molly forced you to watch Coronation Street again?”

When Mycroft made no effort to answer, the detective opened his mouth to unleash a biting remark about the idiocy of popular television, but stopped abruptly and snapped it shut without uttering a word. Mycroft’s brow rose in question, which was as close to admitting surprise or confusion as he could get. Without taking his eyes off his brother, Mycroft angled his head minutely when an unusual crackling sounded at his back. He tried to identify it in the seconds before he turned to look, but his mind only supplied visions of Sherlock as a child with a sparkler clutched in each hand and drawing faded designs in the darkness. He did notice, before he turned away, that Sherlock did not look taken aback in the slightest by what he saw over Mycroft’s shoulder. The elder could see precisely why once he had turned fully. Facing him now were John Watson, Greg Lestrade and a third man Mycroft had never seen before.

“Gentlemen,” Mycroft nodded at John and Greg individually before turning his attention to the stranger. He took in every detail of the man’s appearance, from the tall boots to the heavy leather belt at his waist to the deep red cloak hanging artfully over his shoulders. The flowing layers of his dark blue clothing certainly stood out against the trousers and shirts worn by his companions.

“You must be the doctor my brother spoke of,” Mycroft said to Stephen and then glanced at Greg. “Where did you find him? At one of those popular culture conventions? Dressed as his favorite character too, I see. Certainly must keep things interesting.”

“What?” Greg frowned. ”You mean like comic con?”

“Yes. That’s it, exactly,” Mycroft approved, approaching Stephen and extending his hand. He could practically feel Sherlock’s eyes rolling at his back. “Mycroft Holmes.”

“Dr. Stephen Strange,” Stephen replied, shaking his hand.

“We aren’t using our real names then. How quaint,” Mycroft mocked as he read the man’s face. Stephen returned his unscrupulous gaze with utter amusement and not even a hint of guile.

“You mean Mycroft is your real name?” Stephen’s lips turned up in a facetious smirk and Mycroft couldn’t stop the corners of his own mouth from doing the same.

“That is his name,” John told Mycroft firmly as he took a step closer. “We met not two days ago.”

“Did you, indeed?” Mycroft turned his gaze back to Greg, who had a hand to his mouth to cover a quiet laugh at Stephen’s joke. He could plainly see there was no intimate connection between the two men now, but saw no reason to stop prodding the DI. He raised his brows and gave Greg a knowing look. “So not the kind of friend I was led to believe.”

“What?” Greg spluttered, finally catching his drift. He glared at Sherlock. “Just what the fuck did you tell him?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes again, even more dramatically this time, and made no reply. Greg huffed angrily and John stepped in again, his annoyance evident.

“Really?” he said to his brother-in-law, who merely shrugged. Rolling his own eyes and shaking his head, John pushed on to the matter at hand as Mycroft knew he would. “We need to talk.”

A faint twinge in the back of Mycroft’s neck and a quiet tick from the clock on his desk, suddenly reminded him that he did not have time for this. Whatever Sherlock and John were up to this time, they had to handle it on their own.

“Sherlock said as much, but I’m afraid I cannot spare the time, John,” Mycroft answered as graciously as he could manage. “Perhaps in two or three days.”

“It’ll be too late by then,” John angled his head to jut out his chin in protest. He glowered at Mycroft, ever imposing in spite of his height.

“On the contrary,” Mycroft disagreed. “Nothing could be so urgent as…”

He cut himself off before saying too much. Even his family and friends could not know what was ahead. They had to wait and find out according to the timeline just like the rest of England. John, however, would have none of it.

“As what? Hm?” John interrupted. “You becoming Prime Minister, maybe?”

Mycroft’s brain stuttered to a halt for a full second. He stood stock still, his expression blank. It had now happened a grand total of four times in his life; once when his parents told him he would have a baby brother, twice when he learned that Sherlock had begun using, and three times when Molly’s lips first touched his own. This was the fourth. It was a state of mind that made him extremely uncomfortable, invoking a rush of sentiment, and he always tried to ward it away quickly with varying degrees of success. In that vein, Mycroft blinked and forced his mind back into production. He fixed sharp eyes on John and moved to loom over him dangerously. He could feel Sherlock step nearer instinctively, but ignored him.

“How could you know that?” Mycroft growled. He could try to deny it or brush it off, but saw no point. John was certain of his words and none of the others had reacted in the slightest, his plans obviously well-known among them, which meant only one thing. Mycroft spun on his heel to sneer at his brother. “I thought you’d have more sense than to reveal classified information no matter how you got your hands on it.”

“Oh, please,” Sherlock scoffed and then continued in a clipped tone: “I don’t keep secrets from my husband.”

“You’re going to be assassinated, Mycroft,” John barked. The elder spun to face him with a scoff, but John didn’t let him get a word in. “Probably before you’re even PM.”

“Why on earth…” Mycroft began and John stopped him again, with no intention of allowing a conversation on the matter.

“You were killed right before I met Stephen,” John said in a loud voice, anger burning from within. “Sherlock had been dead for eight months. Moran forced him to jump off Bart’s that day and no one was there to stop him. It wasn’t supposed to be that way.”

Mycroft meant to start his own diatribe as soon as John paused for breath, but all the air was inexplicably gone from his lungs. Not one word out of John’s mouth made even an iota of sense and yet… No one raised any objection, not even Mycroft’s very much alive brother. Had they all gone mad or was it just John and the others were humoring him? Surely they would give some nearly imperceptible indication if that were the case.

“Stephen and I changed all that and now we have to stop you from being killed again,” John told him. “It’s the only way.”

“And how exactly did you change it, hm?” Mycroft snarled, finding his voice. “How did you bring my brother back to life?”

Most of the last question was delivered in a mocking tone and he let out a furious bark of laughter at its conclusion. Everything about it sounded wrong, even to his own ears. It was more like the cruel chuckle of the villains and murderers imprisoned by the very detectives before him. That fact ripped viciously through Mycroft’s resolve, but he forced it back and bared his teeth at John in an intimidating scowl. The doctor, however, was not daunted.

“We went back to that day at Bart’s,” John persisted, his blue eyes intense and full of purpose. His face was like stone: a powerful edifice that even years of erosion would fail to conquer. “I stayed out of sight and shot Moran’s assassins. Stephen kept Sherlock alive by whatever means necessary.”

Before Mycroft could respond, the door to his office suddenly opened and Anthea appeared, her nose buried in her blackberry.

“I’m sorry, sir, but your next appointment…” her voice trailed off when she raised her eyes to look at them and her mouth dropped open. Mycroft was a bit stunned himself. In all the years they had worked together, he had honestly come to think that nothing could or would ruffle his assistant. Still, needs must and this situation surely called for expediency.

“Call security,” Mycroft ordered before anyone could move. He fully intended upon having the other four men thoroughly psychoanalyzed, especially John. He seemed to be the instigator of the whole outlandish tale. Mycroft was already five steps further along in his mind’s eye, plotting out results and measures to be taken, when he realized Anthea had not moved an inch. She clutched her blackberry tightly in one hand, but had done nothing with it.

“Anthea,” Mycroft asked, becoming very leery at once, “what’s wrong?”

“How did they…” her voice was a croak and her eyes were wide when she glanced between men. They flickered on Stephen for a split-second longer than anyone else and then darted back to Mycroft.

“You didn’t let them in,” Mycroft said slowly as he pieced it all together. His voice was filled with suspicion and dread. He altered his stance slightly, ready to take action. He detested fieldwork and the like, but still had every intention of tackling John to the ground if it meant protecting the others. Could he and Anthea subdue the four men should they all resist? Unlikely. Mycroft turned to face the doctor fully, his brother also in his sights. “How.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“I can explain,” John side-stepped so he was standing in between Mycroft and Sherlock. He raised his hands in placation, but Mycroft ignored the gesture.

“With what? More of the same?” Mycroft countered in a voice that shook with anger. He had tried to maintain his typically measured tone, but the careful control escaped him. His mind was alive with possibilities spinning to and fro. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you committed.”

“I can give you several,” came a calm voice from Anthea’s side.

Mycroft’s eyes flew to the door at the familiar tone he knew all too well.

“It’s okay, Myc,” Molly Hooper-Holmes told him with quiet assurance as she pushed the office door closed behind her.

“Jesus Christ, Molly, you’re pregnant!” John blurted as soon as he turned and saw the yellow polka dotted blouse hugging the curve of her rounded belly. His left hand shot up to cover his mouth when she met his eyes, an embarrassed smile on her lips.

“Surprise,” Sherlock muttered quietly with an apologetic shrug when John glared at him sharply.

“Molly,” John turned back to face her. She looked oddly resigned, but John didn’t give himself time to wonder why. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, John. You couldn’t have known,” Molly replied in a kind tone before pressing her lips together in a thin line and drawing in a slow breath. “So this is it then.”

Mycroft watched in horror as her eyes shifted to find Stephen’s. The man made no verbal reply, but nodded once slowly. John, Greg and even Sherlock’s eyes widened in shock at Molly’s unspoken admission. She knew him. She knew Stephen Strange. Mycroft, on the other hand, merely sighed through his parted lips, feeling utterly defeated. He let his shoulders sag and tilted his head slightly, eyes still fixed on his wife. He knew something had weighed on her mind for months now. He could find no explanation when it began and suspected it was concern for her pregnancy in the early months, but it had never subsided. She hid it well, but he could always tell she was on edge, especially whenever he left for one particular standing meeting with a few members of parliament. It was a breakfast meeting that spouses and partners were welcome to attend, and she had insisted on going to every one for months. All since that mysterious day at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, as a matter of fact. Sherlock and John had told him of Moran’s attempt to murder Sherlock and the deaths of the assassins. Mycroft had swept it all under the rug as necessary, but never felt they gave him the whole story. With no CCTV in the area, a matter he had quickly remedied, he had no way of finding what they had left out. Could it have been this Stephen Strange? How did he fit in? Apparently, Mycroft’s own wife knew what he did not.

“It’s all true,” Molly interrupted Mycroft’s thoughts and they locked eyes. Her soft brown gaze was apologetic, but determined in a way he had seen many times before. “Whatever they’ve said, it’s all true. Sherlock’s death, John’s suffering, Stephen’s powers; it’s all true.”

“Molly,” Mycroft began, his voice full of regret, “I’m so sorry you had to carry this burden alone.”

Three pairs of shocked eyes shifted from Molly to Mycroft at his easy acceptance of her explanation, one he categorically dismissed only seconds ago. Mycroft went to Molly and took her hands in his, leaning in to touch his forehead to hers briefly. He didn’t want to believe, but had to follow the evidence to its logical, or illogical, conclusion. However unlikely, it must be the truth.

“Moran still plans to kill you,” Molly said stiffly when he pulled back to look at her face. Her eyes were fierce. “I can’t have that.”

They shared a moment, looking into one another’s eyes and communicating silently. Everything that had been held back for months and it threatened to overwhelm Mycroft. He had no idea Molly could conceal so much from him, and it had cost her dearly. She told him here and now, and in every way she could, that she would never do it again. Mycroft sighed quietly: forgiveness freely given. He squeezed her hands and she squeezed back. The corners of his mouth turned up minutely and Molly flashed a brilliant smile that made his heart stutter.

Together, they turned their eyes on everyone else in the room and surveyed each one. When Mycroft’s gaze met Anthea’s, he gave a slight nod. She mirrored his gesture and began typing at lightning speed. The curve of his mouth drew up and he scanned the other men in the room, starting with his brother, who had remained curiously quiet.

“What now?” Mycroft asked imperiously when his eyes settled on Stephen. He arched a brow and continued with condescending expectation. “I assume you have a plan.”

-----

Hopefully this plan works out better than the last one. 😁

Love, Jane

[annes-andromeda]

I’m back at it again, ranting about Thor 4 before it’s even come out cause I can.

So I’ve been thinking about the Valkyrie costume leak that surfaced a while back alongside the other bts leaks, and it got me thinking about something.

Firstly, the suit doesn’t look good.

Like seriously, Tessa’s suit from MIB looked better than this Target rental. It’s too baggy for her body and honestly appears to be tailored for a male figure. Her hair looks great, I admit, but the suit looks like something my dad would wear (and he’s almost in his 50s). I’m big on costuming, and this just looks lazy and uninspired. It’s just another reminder that Valkyrie isn’t really a character, just another strong female character stereotype.

Speaking of which, what is Taika’s insistence that Val is a better character than Jane or Sif simply because she acts more like a man? I’m not saying that women can’t have masculine interests or what not, but Valkyrie has like...nothing going for her. Her only traits are drinking, smirking, and just being another Natasha rip off.

Seriously like 80% of the female characters in Marvel just act like Gamora or Nat

Another thing that Taika seems to push is that Valkyrie is Bisexual and that in Thor 4 she’ll be “finding her Queen”.

But like, here’s the thing: Marvel is owned by Disney, one of, if not, the biggest queerbaiters in the industry. If Taika wants to push this plot into the film, I guarantee Disney will have a say in that and probably reject it. People were so insistent that tfatws was queer baiting when like... both Sam and Bucky are canonly straight and there were no promises of a romantic relationship by any of the creators or actors of the show.

Thor 4 on the other hand? Yeah Valkyrie’s sexuality has been talked about on numerous occasions, almost as if its a promise that she’ll be canonly bi and be in a relationship. But what if that doesn’t happen? What happens when that plot gets rejected? What will Taika do with Valkyrie then? What if it’s already been rejected? Does that mean Valkyrie will just be a side character or her sexuality journey will just be something so minuscule that you’d barely notice it like in Endgame and Rise of Skywalker?

Because it’s hilarious when I see people say that tfatws queerbaited us cause like... you guys know that if this whole “finding her Queen” business doesn’t happen then that’s actual queer baiting? Like, legit, 100%, real queer baiting???

Seriously though, that’s all I’ve heard plot wise for Valkyrie. Nothing on her struggles as a ruler or as character, it’s just on a headcanon that probably won’t be made canon by Marvel any time soon.

Didn’t people call out Riverdale for something similar? A show with a male character whose personality is simply being gay. And yet, people are silent when it comes to Valkyrie, who is basically in a similar situation.

Forigive me if this sounds like an unpopular or ‘controversial’ opinion, but someone’s sexuality is not, and should not be their entire personality and their one defining trait.

Maybe I’ll be proven wrong, but I highly doubt it. Considering that Marvel has a track record of treating any character that isn’t white, male, or straight like utter garbage, I’m pretty confident in this.

I guess we’ll see🤷‍♀️

[blackdiamondwrites127]

Nightmare

A little follow up one shot to my Hal angst post. Hope y'all like it!

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

Catalina woke up in the middle of the night. She sits up and looks around.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it.

She looked beside her and found Jane sleeping peacefully. She allowed herself a small smile at the sight of her wife before focussing back on the task at hand. Carefully, she got out of bed and exited the room quietly so as to not wake up the slumbering silver queen. She stands out in the hallway for a while. Looking at the closed doors of her housemates. Deducting which one was out of place.

Then she noticed it.

The dark yellow door with a large white rabbit painted on it leading to her son's room was opened by a crack.

She goes over to it and knocks lightly. She waited. No answer. She knocks again. A bit louder this time. No answer again. She grabs the knob and gently pushed it open. She then takes a look inside the rabbit themed bedroom.

Empty.

Hal's bed looked recently used. His rabbit patterned blanket thrown back, his favourite rabbit plushie that Jane handmade for him since he was a baby was on the floor and his pink bunny slippers was missing from beside his bed. Catalina frowned and closed the door. She goes over to the bathroom and found it unlocked and empty after knocking and asking if anyone was there. She decides to move to her next destination of her investigation.

"Bugsy's in the kitchen."

The gold queen lets out a startled yelp and turns around to find Mae standing outside her bedroom door. Clad in light blue pj's with cat patterns on it, blue cat slippers on and her curly hair in a mess.

"Ay dios mio. You startled me. How did you...?" Catalina asked.

"He always goes to the kitchen whenever he's feeling down. Probably a nightmare again," Mae said.

"Again?"

The youngest Boleyn-Parr nodded. "I told him yesterday to talk to you or Aunt Jane about his nightmare but it seems that he didn't," she said.

"What was his nightmare even about?"

"It's not my place to tell. It's best that you talk to him."

"Okay. Thank you, Mae. You can go back to bed now," Catalina said.

Mae nodded again before going back in her room. Closing her light blue door shut. The first queen sighed and makes her way downstairs. Sure enough, the kitchen light was on and she could see Hal sitting on one of the barstools and hunched over the island counter. He was clad in his yellow rabbit printed pj's, his feet covered by his favourite pink bunny slippers and his curly brown hair messy and out of his usual bun.

"Mijo?" she called as she approached him.

The young prince sat upright upon hearing his mother's voice call out to him. Catalina could see him do a quick wiping motion to his face followed by hearing him sniffle.

"M-Ma, hey. What are you doing up so late?" he asked in an attempt to act fine but it failed due to his voice shaky and cracking.

"I should be the one asking you that. What's wrong?"

Catalina pulls out the barstool next to his and sat down. She took note of the glass of chocolate milk in his hand and the half empty jug of said chocolate milk next to it.

She distinctly remembers that that specific jug was bought just yesterday.

Drinking chocolate milk is always his go to drink whenever he's upset. And drinking about half a jug of newly bought chocolate milk worried the golden queen.

"I'm fine, ma. Nothing to worry about. I just can't sleep," Hal said. Turning to face her and giving her a forced smile that didn't reach his golden brown eyes.

"Drinking half a jug of newly bought chocolate milk in the middle of the night while crying is something to worry about. Mijo, tell me what's wrong," she said. Gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

His smile dropped from his face and he started to sob. His tears falling down his already tearstained face. Catalina gently pulls him in her arms and lets him cry on her shoulder for awhile. He held on to her tightly as he cried. Letting all his emotions pour out while his mother comfortingly rub circles on his back.

After a while, he pulls away and managed to collect himself.

"Sorry ma..." he said. Catalina gave him a reassuring smile as she wiped his tears away with her thumb.

"It's okay, mijo. Now, Mae mentioned about a nightmare that's been bothering you," she said.

He sighed and finished the last of his glass of chocolate milk. The first queen waited patiently for him to collect himself.

"It started when I decided to do more research on myself," Hal started.

She nodded. Signaling him to go on and that she'll listen. He took a deep breath and continued.

"I...I read some historians theorize about the events happening in history if I had lived up to adulthood. Obvious things like me being king and England staying as a catholic country and all that. But what really struck was the possibility of...father...not divorcing you and separating you and Mary. Leaving you to die alone..."

Catalina held his hand and gently squeezed it reassuringly. She said nothing. Just waiting for him to continue. She knew talking about their past lives is always hard for them.

"...it also made me think of the possibility of...him not marrying five more times and...mum and the others not suffering under his hand."

"Tell me about your nightmare," she said in a calm and quiet voice.

Hal takes a shuddering breath.

"I was...in a dark place. Then a spotlight was on and I saw...I saw a crown floating above my head. Then I felt a heavy weight on my right shoulder. When I looked, I realized...it was father's hand. He was standing next to me. Looming down on me with his heavy hand still on my shoulder. Then I heard a voice declare 'All hail King Henry IX'," he started.

Catalina listened intently to him. Hal continues his recount on his nightmare.

"I started to freak out. Everything was a blur now and I saw myself as king...I saw myself as father...doing the same atrocities he had done because I realized...in a world where I lived to adulthood...in a world where father was prevented in doing his atrocities...I would be the one to execute them instead..."

Hal's hands and voice were shaking by the time he finished and fresh tears welled up in his eyes and fell down his face. Dripping onto the cold tiles of the island counter. The first queen was quiet for awhile. Mulling over her son's words. She snaps out of her stupor when Hal suddenly spoke.

"Ma...do you think...I'm going to end up just like father...?"

She immediately pulls him closer to her.

"No. No you will not. You are Hal. You are MY son. Unless you actively seek out to be just like Henry, which I highly doubt you will, you will not end up like him," she said. Hal sobbed into her shirt as he held on to her tightly.

"B-But...I was named after him...I was born to be the next Henry..."

"Mijo, look at me."

Hal looks up at her. His tearful golden brown eyes meeting her golden ones. Catalina placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed his forehead briefly before looking at him again.

"You may be named Henry but that does not mean you are Henry. You are not a king who marries six times due to his obsession in having a son. You are a young boy with an obsession for rabbits and a passion for the culinary arts. You are Hal. Son of Catherine of Aragon and Jane Seymour. You're my little prince and you will always be my sweet and kind Hal," she said.

Hal gives her a genuine smile this time and she returned it with a smile of her own.

"Gracias mamá. I really needed to hear that," he said. Hugging her again. She kissed the top of his head and holds him closer.

"De nada, mijo. Think you can go back to bed now?"

"Uh...the chocolate milk sort of made me more awake."

Catalina chuckled. "Well then why don't we watch a movie until we both fall asleep?" she suggested.

Hal grins and hops off the barstool. Making his way to the living room to pick a movie. The golden queen smiled and followed her son. Flicking the kitchen light off before joining him on the couch. Zootopia already playing on the T.V.

Hal snuggled next to his mother as they watched his favourite movie for the umpteenth time.

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

Jane woke early as usual but what was unusual was the empty space next to her. Sure, Catalina often woke up early as well but she usually stayed in bed for another hour, wanting cuddles from her.

The silver queen gets up and gets dressed for the day. She goes downstairs to find Anna in the living room. Clad in her running clothes, holding a blanket in one hand and her phone in the other.

"Anna what--?"

The red queen cuts her off by shushing her. She then motions for her to come closer to the couch and look.

Jane walks over and couldn't help but gush at the sight that greeted her.

Catalina and Hal sleeping on the couch. The first queen had her arms wrapped protectively around her son and the young prince curled up quite comfortingly against his mother.

Anna takes a picture of the moment before draping the blanket over the slumbering mother and son.

"I found them sleeping here with Zootopia playing on repeat," Anna said.

"Hal probably couldn't sleep last night and Lina went down to keep him company," Jane said.

"Probably. It's best to let them sleep in. I'm off on my run."

"Yeah. Be careful and be back before breakfast."

The fourth queen nods and exits the house to go on her morning run. Jane looked back at her wife and son and smiled lovingly. She planted soft kisses on both of their foreheads before going to the kitchen to start on breakfast.

She didn't notice the empty glass and the half empty jug of chocolate milk still on the island counter.

[karenjacksons]

An attempt at reviewing EVERY horror movie I watched in october

[[MORE]]

Truth or Dare (2017): not to be confused with the one with Lucy Hale and Landon Liboiron, although ironically they both star degrassi actors (and wow,does Ricardo Hoyos’ character suffer in this one!). I thought this was really thrilling,and tbh I was shocked to find out it’s a tv movie because it’s so gory. The ending seemed unpopular online, but tbh I loved the bordering on thelma and louise ending.

Polaroid: all in all it’s not very memorable,but tbh the plot twist about the truth about the cop and the girl who died was so heartbreaking and made me cry :(

School Spirit: apparently this is an episode of a tv show called Into The Dark,but Hulu has it as a movie. SPOILER ALERT: Farkle is the killer. i kind of laughed just because,you know,it’s Farkle,but I thought he was decent. I Still Know What You Did Last Summer: I somehow have never seen this. Now I finally know the origin of Brenda in Scary Movie…she’s clearly Brandy in this! (I loved Brandy in the movie. Happy they didn’t kill her off). Hated the ending.

Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism: literally don’t even remember this one.

Deadly Friend: LOVED this one! Kristy Swanson was so good! However, it has what has got to be one of the worst endings in cinematic history…

The Babysitter Killer Queen: the first one was way better,but it was fun. Obviously Samara Weaving’s borderlin cameo was the best part. Side note,but Jenna Ortega will always be Little Jane to me,i don’t think I can handle seeing her get killed in Scream 5 lol

Friday the 13th: Final Chapter: this one is weird because it has an iconic/amazing ending,Tommy and Trish are legends,but the parts without them…what even is the plot? They don’t even know any of the kids who get slaughtered. But again,amazing ending.

Endless Love: this is a You style horror movie and you can’t convince me otherwise. In fact,I think Penn Badgley might have taken inspiration from Martin Hewitt. Amazing movie. Friday the 13th: of course I love it and it’s a classic but SyFy’s airing butchered it! They cut out some death scenes….

Halloween Kills: YES. LOVED IT. Loved all the actors too.

The Stepfather: more of a thriller than horror. I loved it,but I think if I wrote it,I would have made it so Penn Badgley and Amber Heard’s characters were siblings rather than boyfriend and girlfriend. Partially because I hated the unneeded sexy stuff,but also because it would have fit the family theme better. (Fun fact: Skyler Samuels plays his actual sister,but she’s basically an extra. I loved seeing her so young though!)

Secret Window: again,more thriller than horror. Loved Johnny Depp’s acting but the ending was….a little off.

The Exorcist 3: love George C Scott and Brad Dourif in the movie. I wish they hadnt forced the director to make it an exorcist sequel though. (random fact: my dad worked at a bar Jason Miller would always go to in Scranton and says he was mean.)

Stage Fright: LOVE IT. Hilarious. The killer is extremely easy to figure out though. Also,Ephraim Ellis (Rick Murray) is in it. (so is Dan Levy, but it’s only one line).

Untitled Horror Movie: same director as Truth or Dare,starring and written by Luke Baines who played one of the main characters in that. My only real complaint is I wish they let Claire Holt keep her accent! Also,at first I thought they were all filming in the same house, but then I realized it’s just that their houses all look very similar.

The Collingswood Story: the og unfriended from 2002. Unfortunately it’s boring as fuck.

Dracula AD 1972: sadly he’s only onscreen for 10 minutes,but I love the campy 70s vibes!

The Rage Carrie 2; I actually loved it. Things I didn’t like: killing Sue (especially since it was an accident and I highly doubt Rachel would have killed her on purpose) and the plot twist where Rachel was Carrie’s sister was way too over the top.

Dracula Has Risen From The Grave: fun but I liked Dracula 1972 way better.

Last Night In Soho: THIS MOVIE WAS EVERYTHING! i don’t want to say anything else because spoilers but SEE IT IN A THEATER!

Strait Jacket: the ending literally made me cry….Joan Crawford really was a good actress…

[wonwoospartyhat]

something red || harry hook

request: can i request a harry hook x reader imagine ? where harry is being really flirty with the read in front of the other VKs ? then where harry confesses to the reader about his crush towards them in private ? :)

a/n: ofc! thanks for requesting! :)

requestor: @arianagrandeisqueenaf

pairing: harry hook x auradon!reader

warnings: none!

word count: 726

something red || harry hook

It is a fairly pleasant day in Auradon, with the birds chirping, sun shining, and citizens’ chatter filling the air. You are currently hanging out with the VKs (plus Ben, Doug, Jane, and Lonnie), talking about anything that came to your minds. You sit in a circle--Harry to your right, laying on the ground with his head on your lap, and Evie to your left, snuggled up with Doug.

As the conversations roll out, the topic soon turns into one about previous relationships and horrible dates, courtesy of Jay. Everyone pitched in their own stories while others commented on how horrid they and their ex-partner had been--and then it was your turn to speak. 

“Well, my worst relationship probably has to be...” you pause to think, “When I was 15. Yeah, my boyfriend was pretty terrible. He barely ever hung out with me, and when I went to go talk to him, he acted like I didn’t even exist!” You start getting heated as the memories begin to flow back, “And to make it even worse, he decided to break up with me by flirting with my ex-bully! Can you believe him?!” 

The group stares at you as if you had just said something out of your natural character, and Harry lifted his head to meet your fiery eyes.You look around, absorbing everyone’s reaction to your story. 

Shrinking back into your shell, you remark, “Needless to say, I never dated after that.”

“So that’s why you’ve been single this entire time…” Carlos was the first to respond, “Makes sense if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, that was pretty bad,” added Ben.

“Well, If I was yer’ boyfriend, I would never treat you like that, love.” Harry contradicts.

Harry. Of course, it had to be Harry who was flirting again-- show me something that isn’t ordinary. The entire day consisted of him opening doors, pulling chairs, and offering forgotten pencils whenever he had the chance, but, for some reason, today he was doing more. 

“Thanks, Harry, but I highly doubt that.” 

Harry’s face dropped before turning into a slight smirk once more.

“Please, I would take ya on fancy dates, cheer for you on all yer’ games, get excited with you on all yer’ achievements, and treat you like the queen you deserve to be treated like. Hell, I’d even dress up nice for ya, and that’s sayin’ a lot, babe.” As sweet as that was, you couldn’t accept it. You liked Harry a lot, even in a ‘more-than-a-friend’ type of way, but you could never tell if he was being genuine with his words or not. 

Sensing your hesitation, Jane quickly came to your rescue.

“I have to go, Mother is making me restock the library shelves with her,” she stands and gives Carlos a knowing glare, “Carlos, walk with me?” Carlos, receiving her hint, follows after her, looking like a lovesick puppy.

Evie, getting the message as well, pipes up, “Yeah, I gotta go, too. Doug and I have a lot of orders to work on, especially with this year’s cotillion coming up,” and leaves with her prince charming. 

One by one, everyone in the group left, coming up with barely-passable, but appreciated excuses. One by one, just like that, you were now alone with Harry.

“Y’know, I wasn’t kiddin’ about what I was sayin’, love. I truly meant it.” 

Oh, please, like you’re supposed to believe his reckless flirting is supposed to mean something! You laugh a little, finding it almost impossible to believe, but then you look at the light blue in his eyes recede, and for a moment, couldn’t help but reconsider. Was this actually happening? Was Harry Hook, your good friend and longtime crush, finally confessing to you? 

You let a small smile form on your face, “Well, maybe you should consider being less bark and more bite. ”

“Maybe I should, or maybe, we could go a little slow and…” he winces, “And you would rather be my date to cotillion?” Harry suggests sheepishly. 

You simper beamingly, eyes filled with adoration. You want to scream yes on the top of your lungs, but you have to let Harry know you’re cool. Biting your lip to hide your very obvious and very embarrassing smile, you look down and then back at him holding the world’s wonder in his eyes.

“Wear something red.”

[percy-the-penguin]

Struggles

Ok so thanks everyone who encouraged me to do this, love you all

It’s about S!Anne’s struggles with OCD and ADHD and S!Jane struggling with Dyslexia. 

It was a bit rushed so sorry about that and sorry if I get anything about any of these things wrong. I was able to use my own experiences with ADHD and Dyslexia but I did my best with OCD

This has the HC that Anna has OCD

Last names= Swapped

Word count: 1502

TW: None I don’t think, let me know though

Boleyn was sitting on the couch reading. It was a book about Mental illness and she was on the OCD chapter. Cathy had given her the book since she realized how much the queen liked to learn

Boleyn tapped the fingers of her right hand on the armrest of the couch every time she turned the page. Pointer, middle, pointer. She didn’t realize she was doing it. It was just a subconscious habit

When she reached the end of the chapter she shut the book and started thinking as she set the book perfectly centered on the table in front of her

Seymour ran down the stairs, her trusty lighter in hand and signature smirk on her face. She skidded to a stop when she noticed Boleyn sitting on the couch, looking at the closed book in front of her 

“Hey nerd, you know what helps with reading? Opening the book.”

“I am aware of this you uncultured swine. I’m merely pondering on the chapter I just read.”

Boleyn’s watched beeped, signifying it was noon. She took her hair down from the low ponytail it had previously been in

“Okay well what were you reading?” Seymour questioned

“Not something you could grasp.” Boleyn retorted

“I’m smarter then you think, try me.”

“I highly doubt that’s true”

Seymour rolled her eyes and picked up the book after putting her lighter in her pocket. She opened to a random page and started scanning it, attempting to make sense of the jumbled mix of letters and words that she was seeing. She frowned “What’s dysphoria?”

Boleyn stood, walking over to stand on the right of the beheaded

“Firstly, dysphoria is by definition ‘a state of unease or generalized dissatisfaction with life.’ secondly, that word is dyslexia, not dysphoria. Lastly, dyslexia is ‘a general term for disorders that involve difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters, and other symbols, but that do not affect general intelligence.’”

“Can I set this book on fire?” Seymour asked

“No!” Boleyn responded, snatching the book as Seymour pulled out her lighter

“What’re you two up to?” Jane questioned as she walked into the room the two swapped queens were in 

Seymour scowled and grumbled something under her breath. She wasn’t the biggest fan of her counterpart 

“Good afternoon” Boleyn greeted “I was reading when this vermin interrupted me” 

Seymour rolled her eyes “You were not reading”

“I was processing the words on the cover and therefore reading” 

Jane looked at the two with a slightly confused expression on her face “Alright..would either of you like anything?”

“I would like to burn that book” Seymour announced 

“No.” Boleyn responded quickly 

“Erm, lets not” Jane said with an awkward laugh

Seymour sighed “You guys are no fun”

Jane went into the kitchen to make herself some tea

Within the next few days, Cathy had started noticing Seymours struggle with reading and writing along with Boleyns methodic tendencies and hyperfocus 

She approached Seymour first

“Hey” Cathay greeted

Seymour glanced over “Hey.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“There’s nothing stopping you.” Seymour responded

“Fair enough. Do you have Dyslexia?”

Seymour simply shrugged “I don’t know. Is that the reading thingy Boleyn was going on about?”

Cathy nodded and Seymour shrugged again “Don’t know”

They had a short conversation before Cathy asked Seymour to read something which confirmed her theory when Seymour read d’s as b’s, q’s as p’s and constantly switched words and lines. Cathay thanked Seymour and left her so she could do..whatever she was doing.

She went to Boleyn next 

“Hi”

“Hello Catherine” Boleyn looked up “May I help you?”

“I just had a question. You read the book I gave you right?”

Boleyn nodded in confirmation “Yes.”

“Do you think you might have OCD?”

“I believe it could be a possibility, yes.”

Cathy nodded “What about ADHD?”

Boleyn pondered on the question for a moment before responding “That is also a valid theory. I do exhibit the Hyper Focused side of the disorder”

Cathy nodded again “Well if you want to talk to anyone about it, Anna has OCD and Anne has ADHD”

“Thank you.” Boleyn responded politely though the thought of talking to her chaotic counterpart was not appealing 

After a few days, Boleyn got curious so she went to Anna’s room and knocked on the door

“Who is it?” The red queen called 

“Boleyn” the divorced queen responded 

There was silence for a moment before Anna responded 

“Come in”

“Thank you” Boleyn said as she walked into the room, closing the door behind her

“Cathy says you have OCD?”

Anna nodded “Yeah?”

“I do too, self diagnosed of corse but I was wondering if you had any tips to help me cope with the compulsions and, erm..more intrusive thoughts.”

Anna nodded in understanding “I’m not sure how good my advice would be but I can give it a shot”

Boleyn nodded in acceptance and sat down, waiting for Anna to speak 

“First off, never try to stop the thoughts. Nine times out of ten it only makes it worse. Secondly, it’s okay if you slip up with a compulsion. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure if you do. Thirdly, slowly try to lessen the compulsions like if you have a tapping compulsion where you uh..tap a doorframe five times before you go through. Next time try to just do four and repeat that until it feels comfortable. It’s okay if it feels uncomfortable at first, that’s completely normal so don’t push it. Lastly, don’t be afraid to reach out and ask someone for help. It sometimes helps to talk about your thoughts and compulsions and can even lead to good methods of dealing with them. Oh, also, everyone’s OCD is different so if some methods don’t work for you that’s okay. You can find your own methods and do research on what could work.”

Boleyn nodded “Thank you that was quite helpful”

“Happy to help” Anna respond 

“Have a good day.” Boleyn respond before exiting the room, automatically touching the door frame with her right hand as she went

Boleyn took a breath and thought for a moment before deciding to talk to her counterpart against her better judgement 

She walked into Anne’s room. Anne was laying stomach down on the bed, propped up with her elbows as she held a controller and played Halo

“Are you busy?” Boleyn asked 

“Yeah but give me a sec and I’ll be right with you” Anne responded

Boleyn sat down and waited. It took Anne five minutes to get bored of what she was doing so she took out the game and put in another, seemingly forgetting about Boleyn who cleared her throat to get the girls attention

Anne looked over “Oh, right, sorry. What’s up?”

“I was wondering about your ADHD”

Anne shrugged “I have it. No idea what it means.”

“Well what are your symptoms?”

“Uhhh” Anne thought back to when Cathy had talked to her “Hyper, short attention span, fidgeting, impulsive, probably some other stuff. I dunno” 

“That was little help but good to know, thank you” 

“Mhm” Anne had already gone back to the game 

Boleyn rolled her eyes and left

Seymour sighed as she sat on the couch, biting her lip and questioning how the fuck people could read. Parr had suggested the book but Seymour was having great trouble decoding the words. She was about a minute away from burning the stupid book when Cathy came down 

“What’s up?” Cathy asked, seeing the frustration on Seymours face

“I can’t read this stupid ass book” Seymor complained “The words are all jumbled and the letters don’t make sense and I keep skipping lines”

“Have you ever tried an audio book?” Cathy suggested

“Hm?” Seymour asked 

“Its something where someone reads a story and records it. There are a lot of apps for them. It might help you to listen to it as well as read along to keep yourself on track. May I see your phone?”

Seymour looked suspicious but gave Cathy her phone after unlocking it 

Cathy downloaded an audio book app for her and started the subscription with her own money

“Thanks..” Seymour said “Why are you helping me? Do you want something?”

Cathy shook her head “No no, I just enjoy reading and hopefully you will too once you get the hang of it. Reading also leads to better writing so its a win-win” the blue queen smiled “Just remember it can be frustrating but thats okay. Learning no skills are hard but please don’t set anything on fire because of it”

Seymour smirked “I make no promises” 

Cathy laughed a bit

Within the next few days, Seymour was making progress. Cathy had been right, the audiobooks did make a difference and helped her follow along. When she was listening to audio books was the only time she wasn’t chaotic, almost peaceful. Of course she never forgot to add just a bit of mischief to someones day

@ender1821 @arithebroadwayaddict @mega-heir-of-heart

[fideidefenswhore]

I think some historians are more sympathetic to Jane Seymour than Anne Boleyn because she was not really spoken about like she was the driving force of a faction, whereas Anne was. Thoughts?

Well, historians tend to argue for their in/significance depending on what theory they believe has the strongest weight.

It's difficult to compare because we have such different eras of influence and spotlight, as it were, for these women as they were primed for the throne. Anne's was six years and Jane's was, generously six months, arguably more like five (January-May 1536, even then, February is the first we hear of her in any capacity), some historians don't even mark it until April 1536, in which case it's more like two.

But for what we have, maybe? Jane was 1 for 2 in political influence (again...generously); complete failure during her tenure as mistress/'betrothed' (again, it's hard to mark when that was, we don't have the equivalent of either emerald ring or diamond-ship to mark acceptance, we sort of just assume marriage was discussed) to reinstate Princess Mary, success in sowing doubts about the legitimacy of Henry's marriage. Here, Anne had the advantage, it's entirely possible the first time she heard of doubts of validity for Henry's to Catherine had been ten years prior, in Mechelen (as that’s the earliest they crop up).

During the six-month-period, it’s Edward that's mentioned more than Jane by (I almost said contemporaries, but actually just realized it’s) Chapuys (only), second to Gertrude Blount and Nicholas Carew. Comparatively, we have, by the fall of Wolsey (1529):

The duke of Norfolk is made chief of the Council, Suffolk acting in his absence, and, at the head of all, Mademoiselle Anne. (Du Bellay)

And at the same time, Chapuys is rating her influence on the royal prerogative just as highly, if not more so, only with a more negative slant. 

GW Bernard has argued that this should be disregarded, as later Du Bellay ‘contradicts himself’, and must have with time, developed a more realistic view:

Lady Anne has presented Du Bellay with a hunting frock and hat, horn and greyhound. Tells him this to show him how the affection of the king of England for Francis increases, for all that the Lady does is by the King's order.  (Du Bellay, 1532)

However, A) I don’t find these statements to be contradictory...the former suggests Anne has the most influence with the King, not over the King (of course it’s more realistic that she would be directed by him, but the former doesn’t imply that she wasn’t!), B) There are contemporary reports from 1530- onwards that, actually, that was the case (Anne directing Henry); and enough of them from enough various sources that they can’t be disregarded entirely.

And besides, the remark from the year of 1529 does have other corroboration, in the form of Cromwell writing to Wolsey:

"None dares speak to the King on his part for fear of Madame Anne's displeasure.”

We also have, not only Anne, but Anne’s parents being referred to as figures to be feared (even by the papal envoy, apparently), her parents and George Boleyn being referred to and regarded as figures that it was necessary to fete, flatter, gift, and draw favour from, if one ever wanted to gain royal favour, we don’t have anything similar in regards to Jane (a scant few, for favour, once she’s Queen, but not as many as for her predecessor’s reign, and no successful intercession), for Jane’s parents, or even really to Edward, until years later on the latter. 

Anyway, I assume you’re speaking more to the time before they were Queens, than after, but my feeling is sort of that... if Jane had lived, Cromwell would have always overshadowed her, whereas Anne, for the time in which she was, held her own. 

[dreamcatcherfication]

Ask Me Who I Am, Pretend You Know My Face

Let 👏 Anne 👏 Have 👏 Feelings 👏 And 👏 Character 👏 Depth 👏

AKA Anne has an existential crisis. Anon requested “this isn’t you sounds very much like something happens to Anne and she just shuts down...? Maybe Beheaded Cousins?” And I’m happy to oblige. I’m not a big fan of the ending, but I didn’t know how else to tie it together. Not sure what went through my mind when I wrote this, but have it anyway. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, I’m now a war veteran.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Existential crisis, anxiety, cursing

Anne Boleyn was many people. She was the temptress history remembered her as. She was the carefree gremlin that the queens’ show presented her as. She was a woman wrongly beheaded by her vengeful husband. She was the mother of one of England’s greatest monarchs and more. 

Of all things Anne was great at, it was acting. She had been doing it long before her second life, and now it was her profession. There wasn’t a time she wasn’t playing a role and charming someone. And it took a toll on Anne, to the point where she never stopped acting. Even when she went to bed, Anne gave her mirror a charismatic smile and winked, making sure her mask was on. Playing a role was easier than playing herself. 

It was easy to distract historians who came to interview her. Anne was the most well known queen, so she often had solo interviews to deal with from pushy historians. At first it had been a lot to deal with, but Anne had grown used to their invasive questions. They were almost always the same, so she had her prepared answers. They never wanted to know about her opinions or choices, they wanted to know about all the drama and ‘seduction’ she took part in. 

It was Anne’s offday and she had a plethora of interviews scheduled. It wasn’t her chosen way of spending the day, but she needed to get them done anyway. She wasn’t one to turn interviewers away without even meeting them, so she decided to make a day out of it. The first interview wasn’t too bad, actually starting out on a relatively high note. The interviewer was a big fan of the show, and she wanted to know about the dynamics of the queens and what it was like being reincarnated. She made sure Anne knew she didn’t have to answer a question if she was uncomfortable, and Anne was grateful for that. 

The second interview was fine. The historian wasn’t too pushy and seemed generally respectful, but he kept asking questions that dragged up bad memories for Anne. By the time the interview was over, she could feel herself settling into a frustrated mindset. This third interview would not go well, and Anne knew that the second she walked into the small office.

This historian was an old white man with greying hair and ancient glasses. She could already tell he was one of those snobs who would argue that his opinion was fact. But rather than judge him right off the bat, Anne put on her excited persona and gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Hello!” she spoke happily, giving him a dazzling grin.

“Ah yes, Anne Boleyn,” he spoke in a rickety old voice. He pulled down his glasses and gave a smile that seemed to physically pain him. “I’m Director Hoffman, pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Anne replied, shaking his hand. This was the third time she’d gone through the motions today, but she acted as if it was her first.

Director Hoffman leaned back into his seat and sighed. Anne sat in the seat across from his desk and put her hands in her lap. He had a pen and paper in front of him, as if he could record the entire interview by hand. Anne already had a bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, but she attempted to stifle it. “Let’s get started, shall we.” Anne nodded silently, waiting for his questions. “What made you go after King Henry VIII?”

Cringing, Anne realized he was jumping right into the thick of it. “Really it was my father. He pushed me to get involved with Henry for power. It wasn’t so much my choice.”

“But,” Hoffman pushed, “that’s not what historical records say. In fact, most everyone agrees that you were highly calculated in your bid to steal the King from his wife.”

Anne clenched her teeth and attempted to stay civil. “Well history tends to be misleading about a lot of things. As someone who lived the experience, I can tell you for a fact that those records were not written with me in mind. They paint Henry as a saint while putting me and his other wives down, painting us as horrible when that wasn’t the reality of it.”

Hoffman didn’t write any of that on his page. “I find that hard to believe,” he stared at Anne. “How is it that this airheaded girl you appear to be broke England from the Church?”

“This might be hard to believe,” Anne’s voice dripped with malice, “but men tend to over exaggerate when they let their dick decide.”

The director’s eyes widened and he grew aghast. “What an improper thing for a lady to say!”

“Freedom of speech,” Anne shrugged. “Another thing we didn’t have back then. All your documents you rely so heavily on, they only say what Henry wanted to hear. It’s all biased.”

Director Hoffman absolutely refused to listen to what Anne was saying. “You, Anne Boleyn,” he practically hissed, “are a disgrace to the historical figure this country remembers. You are a disgrace to Elizabeth and all English monarchs. You should be ashamed of who you are.”

Biting her cheek to keep from screaming, Anne slammed her hands on Hoffman’s desk. The old man leaned away from her, fear creeping in behind his eyes. Restraining herself, Anne stepped back and marched out of the room, not so much as glancing back.

On her way back to the queens’ house, Anne hadn’t lost any of her anger. She couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone telling her who to be when she was already trying to cater to them. She tried and tried and tried and they were never happy with what she gave them. Maybe she was broken.

Storming into the house, Anne didn’t acknowledge any of the other queens. “Anne? Where are you going?” Jane called from the dinner table where all the others queens were conversing with each other.

“Leave me alone,” she said, continuing through the room to get to the stairs.

“Hey, don’t leave Anne,” Aragon told her, standing up. “You should at least come eat.”

Freezing but not turning around, Anne growled, “I don’t want your food, okay?”

Cathy frowned and put her fork down. “Anne, is there something wrong? You can tell us -”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Anne yelled, still staring at the wall. “Or maybe everything’s wrong, I don’t know. But nothing’s changed, so you don’t need to worry. Go back to your food.” And then she left the queens, and shut herself up in her room. 

The other five queens all shared confused glances around the table. “I’ll handle this one,” Kat said, standing up.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Anna asked, her eyes flicking to the stairs where Anne had just been. “She doesn’t seem to be in the most forgiving mood.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kat made her way to the stairs. “She’s my cousin and I’m going to try and help her.” And then she was gone as well, disappearing up the stairs to (hopefully) make Anne feel better.

Muttering, “Godspeed,” Cathy gave the air a small salute.

As Kat traveled up the stairs to Anne’s room, she couldn’t help but hold her breath. Literally anything could be going on with Anne and she had absolutely no grounding with how to deal with it. Still, this was her cousin and she would try her best. “Anne?” Kat knocked on her door. “Can I come in.”

“I can’t stop you,” came Anne’s defeated voice from inside. 

Gently opening the door, Kat made her way to Anne’s bed. The girl in question was lying face down on the bed, her limbs spread out at awkward angles. “Hey Anne… how are you doing.”

Anne scoffed into the bedsheets. “What do you think Kat?”

“I think you’re pretending to be angry to hide that you’re hurting.”

Kat noted the way Anne reacted to her words. She sat up from her position and faced Kat with a defensive glare. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m fine. Good and dandy! Happy fucking Christmas,” Anne snarled, her upper lip starting to curl.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kat quietly asked, moving closer to her cousin.

Anne pulled away, creating distance between her and Kat. “I don’t need to talk about anything. Why can’t you let that go? Crawl back to Jane and leave me alone.”

A pang of hurt went through Kat, but she brushed it off. Anne didn’t mean it, even if her words still stung. Biting her tongue and glancing down at the floor, Kat summoned up her courage. “This isn’t you Anne.”

Chuckling ruefully, Anne fiddled with her bedsheets. “Was this ever me?” That definitely wasn’t the response Kat was expecting, but she kept quiet as Anne started to unravel. “I’ve never been me, have I?” Her voice started to quiver, a sign that she was holding back tears, or something much worse. “I’m the temptress or I’m the falsely accused. I’m the ditzy stage girl or I’m the chaotic wingman. I’m the slut or I’m the King’s prize. But I’m not me.”

Of all people Kat would think to have an existential crisis, it was not Anne. Her cousin always seemed so confident and sure of herself, but here she seemed so confused and broken down. “Anne, you aren’t defined by just one thing.”

“Then what am I defined by?” Anne shot back, her eyes red. “The documents of history? They’re bullshit,” she spit. “Am I defined by my show persona? It’s seventy-five minutes, that can’t be it, Kat!”

The genuine fear on Anne’s face as she tried to figure out how to define herself frightened Kat. “I know the real you.”

“Do you?” Anne asked, the pleading in her voice real. “Please, tell me who I am, because I can’t take this any longer. I’ve tried so hard to do what they want,” Anne’s voice broke. “And they’re never satisfied.”

Grabbing Anne’s hand and pulling her closer, Kat made sure they were face to face. "You are my cousin. You're loyal and caring and you would kill anyone who looks badly at your friends. You're the life of the party, always encouraging people to be their best self. You are educated and smart, even though you tend to hide it. You're human and you have emotions just like anyone else. You are Anne Boleyn."

Choking back tears, Anne threw herself into Kat’s arms. “What if I can’t be that? What if I’m not who you want me to be?”

“Oh Annie, I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself. No matter who you are, I’ll still love you.” For a moment, Kat thought Jane must’ve been rubbing off on her because of the sudden role reversal. But Kat didn’t mind being the one to comfort her cousin, especially when she needed it so badly. 

Anne flopped back on her bed, taking a giggling Kat with her. “Can you stay with me tonight?” Anne asked, her voice small.

Rolling to the side so she could face her cousin, Kat immediately agreed. “I’d love to stay with you Annie. But we should probably change into pajamas. And you need to eat something for dinner.”

Kat started to get up, but Anne pulled her back down, hugging her tightly. “No, Cousin Cuddles first.”

“Cousin Cuddles are the best cuddles,” Kat mumbled contentedly.

Before they knew it, both cousins had fallen asleep together, safe and sound.

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

Tag list:

@radcowboyalmondtree@boleynhowards@annabanana2401@babeebobo@dont-lose-your-queerhead@everything-insanity

[nxttheendxfthestxryarch2]

Flashback Solo Para: Fault (Ben)

“This isn’t their fault!” “No, son. It’s yours.”

It’s always his fault.

Ben knows his parents won’t approve of his decision for his first proclamation, looking out the window at the Isle during his fitting. But he thinks back to his dream, to that girl with the purple hair and... and he knows it’s the right move when he turns and addresses them.

“Mom, dad--”

“Ah, mm,” and Ben’s stopped from stepping down off the platform.

He steps back. “I’ve chosen my first official proclamation.” And I already know how you’re going to feel about it... spit it out.

“I’ve decided that the children on the Isle of the Lost be given a chance... to live here in Auradon.” And he braces himself as they all freeze, but continues, taking the opportunity of the panic to step down and motion to the window. “Every time I look out to the island, I feel like they’ve been abandoned.”

And his father pauses, slowly pointing to the Isle himself. “The children of our sworn enemies? Living among us?” The doubt written in his face is almost painful, and clearly barely masking what his father really feels-- rage. Betrayal.

Backpedaling, Ben explains, “We’d start out with... a few, at first. Only the ones who need our help the most.” He can see his mother coming around to it, which is a major relief and there’s a small smile on his face from his relief. “I’ve already chosen them.”

But then his father looks offended as he turns to him more, “Have you?”

He feels his face fall a bit as his father’s tone. That barely-masked anger is growing. But his mother reaches out and grabs his father’s arm. “I gave you a second chance.” His father does back down when Belle turns to him and asks, “Who are their parents?”

Ease them into it. “Cruella de Vil,” he takes a moment to see their faces at each one. “Jafar, Evil Queen...”

His father cocks his head. He can tell Ben’s holding it back. He straightens his shoulders, stands up for himself... “And Maleficent.”

He hardly notices the small scream, too preoccupied by his father’s snapped, “MALEFICENT?! SHE IS THE WORST VILLAIN IN THE LAND--!”

“Dad, just hear me out here--” De-escalate, bring it down, backpedal, don’t let him get upset, don’t make him doubt--

“I won’t hear of it,” Adam interrupts. “They are guilty of unspeakable crimes--”

“Dad, their children are innocent!” Ben feels himself choking up, forces back the tears rising to his face at his father’s tone, his anger... “Don’t you think they deserve a shot at a normal life?!”

He barely hears the door closing. The servants had left the room, like they always do. No one sees how they are when those doors close. “Dad...”

The silence hangs as Adam looks between his wife and son, the silent pleas for him to remain calm, to try something new evident in both of their faces. He’s outnumbered and he can clearly see it. He slowly nods. “...I suppose the children are innocent.”

But he walks away without anything else. It’s Belle who walks over, straightens his coat and squeezes his hands with a small smile, a so-soft, “Well done,” before walking out with Adam.

Ben finds himself looking back out to the Isle again, wondering what would come of this.

The proclamation is taken with... mixed reactions, he notes of the crowd. But he has some supporters. Audrey... she doesn’t say it, but he can tell she’s unsure of what to think and a little nervous. And he can say she has the right-- after all, he’d chosen the daughter of Maleficent, of everyone he could have, to be one of the first four to come. Chad follows their lead so he’s quiet about it. Doug backs him up completely, the way he always has.

Then the museum unveils a new exhibit, calling attention to the history of four particular villains, showing them at their true worst, forcing him and the citizens of Auradon to face that part of history again.

And he’s sick to his stomach when he sees the posters alone. He knows what four villains were chosen without having to go in, so he doesn’t going to a bench outside the museum and dropping into it. He’s dizzy. The heat, maybe?

Through the blur in his head, he just thinks about how the final vote on what goes into a new museum exhibit comes from the king. Adam had the final say on what was to be seen in there.

It couldn’t have been... could it?

Surely his father hadn’t...

When he splashes into the Enchanted Lake, there’s frozen moment of time where Ben registers everything that’s happened. The enchantment ebbs away and he realizes exactly what’s been done to him.

He pulls to the surface, choosing to disappear behind some rocks and process it. And for a moment, he swears he can hear his father, yelling about the crimes committed by the parents, can hear how so sure of himself his father would be about this.

And Ben loses himself in thought for a minute, picking up a crystal from the water, turning it in his hands. Was his father right all along? Had it been a mistake? Maybe he should have stayed in line, been the king his father expected--

“BEN?!”

He hears Mal’s scream and looks up, startled from his thoughts, swimming back out and seeing her struggling in the water. He swims out quickly and scoops her up, helping her back up onto the ground, sitting her down gently.

He shakes his head and hair out, and she hits his arm. “YOU SCARED ME!”

But it’s different, somehow, her screaming at him, than it ever has been when his father yells. He’s just worried about her in all of this. “Y-you can’t swim?!”

“NO!”

He’s taken aback. “You live on an island!”

“Yeah, with a barrier around it, remember?!”

...she has a point. He watches her shaking off the water with a groan, cocking his head slightly, softening up. “And you still tried to save me.”

Because... she’d spelled him, hadn’t she? He wasn’t anything to her. She shouldn’t have even cared enough to bother. And yet... she did.

Maybe he was more on-track than his father gave him credit for.

She laughs sarcastically. “Yeah. And do you thank me? No! All I get is soaking wet!”

He jumps a bit, remembering he’s still holding the crystal. “And, uh... this... fancy rock?” As she snatches it, still looking highly offended, he decides to make up a reason to give it to her on the spot. “It’s yours. Make a wish and throw it back in the lake.” He offers her an awkward smile that he prays she doesn’t see through.

She throws it back in the lake right beside him and gets up. He climbs up with her and follows after her, pulling his jacket around her shoulders to help warm her up and dry her off a bit.

When she sits down at their picnic again, he dries his face and hair a bit before dropping down his towel and sitting with her, playing softly with her hair, looking at her, trying to look into her eyes a bit. Trying to see what’s really going on there, not sure if he can discern any of it.

She’s upset, but... her anger isn’t a familiar one, not to him. There’s something else to it, something sweeter, and he wonders...

“Uh, Mal?” He summons all his courage, somehow feeling stranger about this than he ever did about telling his father anything. He was terrified, but... not in a bad way. Not this time. “I told you that I loved you...” He holds her gaze softly for a moment, “But what about you?” Spit it out. “Do you love me?”

And she doesn’t break eye contact, not completely, as she holds his gaze for a long minute. And he knows. Even as she looks down, looks away and answers with that shrug, “I don’t know what love feels like.”

So he gently reaches out, resting a finger softly under her chin, rubbing her cheek with his thumb as he turns her back to him. “Maybe I can teach you.”

And he’s never felt more certain of anything until this, this moment, no matter what his father has to say.

When the fight breaks out, Ben freezes. So much yelling, so much is happening all at once and-- and then his father says it.

“I knew something like this would happen,” Adam’s saying, his disappointment, his disapproval painfully evident.

“Dad, this isn’t their fault!”

“No, son. It’s yours,” his father answers, pulling Belle along away from the courtyard.

“Mom,” Ben says, but she leaves with him, and Ben’s crushed by his doubts again. Nobody in Auradon wanted the four of them here, nobody saw them the way he did anymore.

Even Doug backed down from supporting them. And... he doesn’t blame the other. He’s known Doug all their lives, knows how painful it’s been for him to not be accepted by the others. What hurts him is Chad, and Audrey. The bond they’d had as kids was long severed.

He didn’t know if it could be fixed, or if he wanted it to be fixed.

He tries his best to talk to them, but they don’t want to hear it from him, and he knows it. All his fault.

Always all his fault.

It’s not Mal who grabs the wand at his coronation.

It’s all he can think about in the moment, with everything happening. It’s not Mal, it’s Jane, and he doesn’t even know what’s going through her head but it’s not Mal--

Mal wrestles it away from Jane, though... and freezes. He looks at her and he can read the look on her face. He gets between her and his parents. “Mal... give me the wand.”

“Stand back,” she says, but he can tell how hard she’s trying to convince herself of what she’s saying.

He pays attention to nothing else, not hearing the doors open or seeing the other three running to join her. “It’s okay--”

“Ben, I said stand back!” She interrupts him.

Audrey says something. He barely even registers who’s speaking. His attention is focused entirely on Mal. Carlos and Jay speak, too, but he doesn’t acknowledge them either.

“You really wanna do this?” He keeps himself set, braces himself against his own fear, trusting his instincts. She doesn’t sound sold on it and he knows it.

“WE HAVE NO CHOICE, BEN,” Mal answers, and there it is. He knew it. She didn’t say yes. She didn’t answer his question directly. That was his in. He was right. He’d been right all along. “Our parents--”

“Your parents made their choice,” he interrupts, standing up for her, for what he knows is there in her, shaking his head and lowering his arms, straightening his shoulders. “Now you make yours.”

He holds her gaze, in spite of her obvious fears, in spite of everything in the room. Watches her glance around them, behind him. She barely answers him, but while the rest of the coronation doesn’t hear it... he does. And he relaxes at the words, “I think I wanna be good.”

“You are good,” he meets, maybe the wrong move.

“How do you know that?!”

“Because...” And his father’s not going to like this answer but he does not care, “Because I’m listening to my heart.”

His undivided attention stays on Mal, watching her breathe, calm down. “I wanna listen to my heart, too.” She meets his eyes again and he smiles, taking deep breaths himself, watching her. She lowers the wand as she turns back to her friends and addresses them instead. He looks up when she says, “I wanna go to school... and be with Ben.”

His heart freezes for a moment, as she turns back to him, holding up her hand with his ring on her finger still and continues, “Because Ben makes me really happy.”

He manages to breathe, watching her turn back to her friends again, but smiling to himself.

He’d been right. He knew it, deep down, in spite of what his father had put him through. And... somehow, he gets the feeling Adam sees it too.

Maybe he had a lot to learn, but maybe, just maybe, Adam could figure it out.

The one thing Ben knew was... Mal made him less afraid to stand up to his father.

He had to trust that.

[dreamsofthescreen]

The Dust Of Bridgerton - Review

Based on Julia Quinn’s obsessively Jane Austen inspired nine novels, we as an audience step into a  world laced with gossip, love and historically inaccurate details.

Regé-Jean Page & Phoebe Dynevor in 'Bridgerton'

Having audiences and the online world jump from their seats at the news of yet another romantically colourful period drama, Netflix’s 2020 Christmas release set off on a high note. However, it may not have been enough satisfaction to cover all viewers, as the overzealous series that is Bridgerton can be perceived as a cute attempt to outline high-society London, rather than a sweepingly romantic love story. From overplayed themes, to the shallow one-liners, saturated costumes and quite frankly, some controversy in a modern series, we’re not so sure that this was a 2020 release. Granted, some of the artistic involvements are wonderfully intoxicating, creating interest and having it for sure be a visual spectacle. Though, this whirlwind historical insight by creator Shonda Rhimes seemed to be a whitewashed teen-drama, instead of a maturely topical period piece.    

Based on Julia Quinn’s obsessively Jane Austen inspired nine novels, we as an audience step into a  world laced with gossip, love and historically inaccurate details. Set in 1813 Regency London, Rhimes’ series is a period drama surrounding the esteemed Bridgerton family, and particularly Daphne Bridgerton, the eldest daughter of the four sisters. All surrounding the pursuit and importance of finding a suitor eligible for marriage at that time, Bridgerton is the glossed over, trivial version of Pride and Prejudice. Yet there certainly still is wit, charm, enchantment and change, grabbing our attention. It is these themes that we are known to love, rather making Rhimes’ series all the more predictable and repetitive. There is beauty and moments to remember throughout, yet all in all I felt as though I was watching a weak showcase of what a mock Baz Luhrmann and Wes Anderson collaboration that exerted a blinding pastel macaron palette might look like. There isn’t really any distinguishable, first class authentic directing or writing style. We have all seen it before, which is what makes it so popular. Bridgerton’s successful reception does not seem due to the fact that it is a beautifully great show, but because of the fact that it is something written knowing that audiences will not tire of yet another stylish, skinny period drama. We have seen many renditions of Pride and Prejudice, Emma and Madame Bovary over the years, making Rhimes’ series simply another period drama that rather latches onto others for inspiration, rather than being a strong standalone piece.

Where Downton Abbey meets Gossip Girl, some might say that this show bursts with fervour, yet it can be deemed as shallow in it’s character development and attempted strong plots. Some might say that Bridgerton has riveting grandeur, but it was films decades ago that originated it so, as we have already marvelled at the magic of the many renditions of Pride & Prejudice. And sure, there is drama, eroticism, as well as there are whispers in the streets filling the scenes of Rhimes’ take on a royal drama. But to have to create excitement by only overdoing sex and violence scenes like this doesn’t speak to highly of it’s quality. And it can be that this is what period dramas are about, yet Bridgerton’s over-embellishment of sex, drugs and rock & roll sometimes paints it out to be taking the easy way out; a cheaply written series by just landing on what is easily stimulating to audiences. As though you’re to a stand up only to have the comedian joke about porn and a night out he might’ve gone on, simply to quickly catch the audiences attention. It works, but does not hold as much substance as a joke with true wit, or in this case, a script with deep quality. The character arc’s end quickly, as does the mystery surrounding who ‘Gossip Girl’-like character Mrs Whistledown is. There isn’t much glory in the drama as there wasn’t enough of it. Yet, the focus on female empowerment and rather the female gaze was something that gets points for originality and  undertaking a modern stance during the Regency time period. 

Amongst the budding romance, glory and messy undertone of the series, the art department does deserve a pay raise, as there is no doubt that the costumes, set and overall work on Bridgerton make it all the more alluring. In saying alluring, it doesn’t necessary translate as the costumes being convincing. Yet the production and costume design is something that seems to define the esteemed privilege of the characters, as they dress in flashy tulle, silks and organza. Luxurious gardens, ostentatious palaces and velvet furnishings tie into the greatly pleasing aesthetics, as we are given the scoop on the Bridgerton’s drama’s, we also are taken in by their lavish lifestyles. Delicacy after delicacy in the ballroom scenes, as champagne towers flow & rich candles burn. Even in the overplayed sex scenes, velvet carpets and luxurious chaises sit on the backdrop. The combination of bountiful costumes and turns this show into an elevated treat for the eyes.

However beautiful, it can still be said that the costume & set design was just overpowering & seemed like a parody of other period drama’s aristocracy. The sickening yellow-green or floral orange gowns blinded, rather than astounded, as none of the costumes seemed entirely accurate. There are countless YouTube videos on the lack of historical accuracy in the dress. But not only are they inaccurate, they’re just unattractive. The completely saturated colours, ridiculous feathers and overall lack of style is another element that makes Bridgerton just look like a parody of that time period. Yet, cleverly enough, this may have been the point. By creating a romance-drama tale, we step into a fantasy world anyhow, so to change up the costuming can be seen as a good thing, as it does allow us to escape into it. We understand the era, but there is a twist in the aesthetic. If the intention was to accurately represent the time period, then it was far from a success. But if it was to create their own take on it, then it was an interesting move.

As much as Bridgerton may have looked beautiful, there were certainly bouts of controversy throughout, showing that it may not have been making the progressive impact that it may have hoped to. Rhimes’ twisted world is created & attempts to include actors from different backgrounds, but it rather plays out as just performative diversity. The only main characters of colour are a light-skinned bi-racial man & a snooty looking Asian queen. Obviously and unfortunately historically inaccurate to 1813 London whatsoever, this pursuit to be progressive was admirable, but rather stuck out like a sore thumb & did not blend naturally or seem at all organic. This is because it more so seemed that characters of colour were rather sprinkled in the background with no definitive lines or moments, making even the inclusion of them quite ironic, as it was not fully inclusive, for a show that may have claimed to be diverse. In saying this, of course, along with the blinding costumes and sometimes plastic-like set design, Rhimes’ had created a fantasy version of 1813 London, yet still was unable to do it justice. Colour and race were apart of Bridgerton, but only comfortably and what is suited to the media.

As stringed instrumentals playing Taylor Swift’s ‘Wildest Dreams’ or Billie Eilish’s ‘Bad Guy’, a make a modern take on classical music is made, this change much like the series itself. Whether or not Bridgerton was entirely convincing, it surely still was entertaining amongst all it’s inaccuracy or shallow writing. As to why it was renewed for three further seasons with Netflix, we are not sure. The colour and pompous nature of the series does grab our eye, but cannot hold it for too long, as we may see ourselves comparing it to any other period drama we previously loved. Shonda Rhimes’ ‘Bridgerton’ succeeded in becoming a household name on Netflix, thoroughly captivating and charming, it is a good teen-based and glossed over period piece. When it comes down to good filmmaking with Rhimes’ adaptation of the sprawling novels that Julia Quinn wrote, it really wasn’t all there.

Stars Out of Five: 2.5/5

visit at: dreamsofthescreen.com

[lady-plantagenet]

Unsolicited Book Reviews (n3): The Sunne in Splendour

Rating:

⭐️⭐️⭐️(+1/2?)

Even before I had an account, I tended to go to tumblr to see people’s opinions before buying a histfic. Certain books are either severely underrepresented, where I feel like there needs to be something on them, whereas others, though talked about enough, something more can still be said about them. So for my quarantine fun, I have decided to start a series where I review every medieval historical fiction novel I read. Hopefully, it will either start interesting discussions or at least be some help for those browsing its tag when considering purchasing it.

TL;DR: Keep in mind that I’m harsh with my ratings. I don’t expect my historical fiction to offer some sort of insight about the human condition or be some perfectly manicured prose, but this book’s biggest detriment was its lack of depth. Some scenes packed a serious emotional punch, but then again I am attached to this era and given the length, it would be insane not to. I learned a lot - no lie, but while my background knowledge on the wars of the roses has become enriched, I feel no closer to Richard.

Plot: We follow Richard III from a young boy at eight right before the catastrophe that was Ludlow to his death and a few years after. This story seems to be told through omniscient third person point of view, which creates issues when it comes to voice - a lot of the characters sound the same (John ‘Jack’ Howard, Francis Lovell, Richard Catesby to name a few). This is only a natural consequence of the sheer amount of people Penman chose to portray. I’m honestly still grateful for this as I was not a fan of Richard III’s POV, but really enjoyed Richard Neville Earl of Warwick’s, Margaret of Anjou and Cecily Neville’s. Everytime these three were the center of the chapter, it was truly enjoyable and multi-faceted which comes to show that Penman is capable of writing complexity when she wants to. I would also like to add that the author’s knowledge of medieval life (e.g. the food, the dogs, the nature of battles) was a high point of this novel and did something to counter-balance the rampant late 20th century flavour in this novel. She tries way too hard to adapt a medieval man such as Richard to our modern values to propagate her Richardian Agenda, which ultimately underscored this.

It must be said though that the author clearly did her research as most of what she said regarding minutae such as: what day of the week it was, where the characters were at one time, details of documents, who did what in which battle, what laws were passed etc... I had just come back to this time period after some years and I thought I knew all there was to know, yet, here comes this book which springboarded me into a wealth of new research - I suppose I am grateful for that. However, do not let that delude you into thinking it is comprehensive. There were historical innacuracies which I can only guess were intentionally made for the sake of the author’s Richardian goal e.g. Anne Neville being forced into her marital duties when historicalMargaret of Anjou made it clear that there would be no consummation until Warwick would prevail at Barnet, Isabel Neville being ‘abandoned’ by her husband in France when really it was only about 4 months they were apart and it would have made no sense for Isabel to sail with an invasionary force, Richard III abolishing benevolence tax because he thought it unfair as opposed to the reality which was that he had failed in his initial attempt to raise them because the population opposed, Richard III allowing the marriage between Jane Shore and Thomas Lynsom when in reality he had initially opposed it... Historical fiction is entitled to innacuracies but given that the author made it clear in her afterword that the only time she strayed was setting a scene in Windsor as opposed to Westminster, it is dishonest to conceal the aforementioned blips, especially when they are so unobvious that it would take a seasoned enthusiast to spot them. As you can tell they either do have a negative bearing on Richard’s image as a saint or show detractors in a positive light, clearly neither that which she was in a mood to explain away.

Characterisation: I can not stress enough how well Cecily Neville was portrayed, every scene she was in, I felt. She tends to be a very difficult character to get because of the whole illegitimacy rumour which casts shades of doubt. She was proud but also pious, subservient but also commanding... just an incredible woman of gravity. I enjoyed Warwick in all his flamboyancy as well and Edward IV was masterfully portrayed as the intelligent but forgiving man that he was. You could clearly see how despite his indulgent character, he knew when it was time to be serious, it was a joy to read the scenes where he strikes people into subserviancy. Anne Beauchamp was also quite a treat for the little time we had with her.

There were also some portrayals of mixed quality: George Duke of Clarence for one, his warped sense of humour and charm were well presented, his unpredictability adequately captured. The issue I have though is that no man is unpredictable to themselves and while it may make sense for other characters to see his temperaments as those like a weather vane it would make no sense for it to be this way in the chapters where he is the POV. Penman’s basically wrote him off as crazy (I mean literally mad) for the majority of the story which is utter tripe given that the whole madness angle is a modern invention. I won’t write more on this now as it deserves its own post (btw if anyone wants me to elaborate on anything I said so far send me an ask). Last thing I will say though: the last scene we have with him is utterly tragic and still sticks with me today, honestly the best writing in this novel was during the ‘Anne’ Book and ‘Protector of the North’ in the years surrounding George’s death. Speaking of, where do I begin with Isabel Neville and Elizabeth Woodville? Their marriages with Richard’s brothers are portrayed negatively for no other reason than to set up Richard and Anne Neville as a perfect love story. This story-telling technique is cheap as hell and I did not expect to find it in a novel so highly acclaimed for its ‘quality’. Let me make this clear: The marriage which was hailed as a love match at that time was that of Elizabeth Woodville and Edward IV. Anne and Richard could have been just as much a marriage of politics as George and Isabel’s, or the latter’s just as much a love match. George fought for Isabel just as much, if not more than Richard did for Anne, George stayed loyal for a surety whereas Richard’s bastard John’s conception may have coincided with his marriage according to Hicks, Marrying Anne was highly advantageous for Richard as marrying Isabel for George... I could go on. Therefore, why is Isabel constantly described as wretched, miserable and at one point abused(!) by her husband whereas Richard was nothing but gentle to the happy Anne. The Mary of Burgundy proposal story is often cited as proof that George only cared about power... but what about Richard’s proposal to Joanna of Portugal one month after Anne died? This may sound minor but it’s a perfect example of the author trying hard to make Richard a modern romantic figure which he wasn’t. I think he may have loved Anne Neville, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was a medieval king and made marriage provisions after her death to secure the succession. For a 800+ page novel about Richard III some seminal pieces of information were left out such as his seizure of the aged Dowager Countess of Oxford’s Howard fortune, the mysterious circumstances in which George Neville Duke of Bedford died young and unmarried after becoming his ward. All in all, do not let the wonderful historical detail fool you into thinking this is a complete account of Richard III’s day to day life.

Don’t even get me started on the Woodvilles... They were all treacherous villains and social climbers who belonged in hell. EVEN ANTHONY WOODVILLE - what has he ever done to Penman or anyone? All scenes with Elizabeth Woodville at the beggining were bedding scenes pretty much, which shows that the author saw her as nothing more than a heartless seductress. There was even a point where Edward in his rage said: ‘you would lie with a leper if it meant you becoming Queen’ and I was just shocked at that. I was further shocked when her daughter Elizabeth of York was musing that if her mother had been a good wife her father wouldn’t have needed to stray and I was just like... ‘I thought we were trying to be sensible in this book 0_0’ - How is it appropriate to have a woman blamed for her husband’s infidelity? How can we have such blatant classism and sexism on the one hand and late 20th century wokeness on the other? It’s what I said earlier, the author can’t prop up Richard and Anne without putting down all other couples in this book. By the end of the book I was honestly finding myself cheering for Elizabeth Woodville as she was becoming the woman with sense and cunning as we all know her, the saving grace of this entire characterisation was that Elizabeth became the only person with a brain by the end (I doubt this was the author’s intention). Down here in this category of bad characterisation I will add Richard and Anne themselves. Anne Neville though often absolutely adorable to me lacked any personality trait apart from being in love with Richard and past sexual abuse by Edward (which didn’t historically happen). Anne’s father and only sister die and she barely thinks about them, which severely undermines her portrayal as a loving and empathetic person. Her death scene and wane was tragic and affected me as a reader but holy Christ before that the author was very heavy handed throughout the book with her martyrisation of Anne, even when she was a young girl and everything was going well she cried in nearly every goddamn scene. Yes, this is Warwick’s daughter we are talking about. Richard (unlike the real great man that once lived on this earth) was similarly flawless and any small flaw he had was something like: ‘too trusting’, ‘acts then thinks’ - essentially ‘too good for this world’ flaws. No one is like this, least of all the real Richard who would not recognise this weird contrived romanticisation of a man. The saving grace of all this is that he admitted around the end to himself and Anne that he did want to be king a little bit, which YES, at least we get that because no one goes through all the procedures he did and endangers the survival of their house, unless they wanted to become king, at least a little bit. All in all, if Penman’s Richard III is the real man, all I have to say is: thank god his reign was cut short because this character would have made a terrible and weak monarch.

Prose: And here is where another of the stars was deducted. The prose is largely very pedestrian. It was full of modern phrases such as ‘hear me out’, ‘He thinks I am in the wrong’ ‘he can’t get away with this’ and other such likes. Also, I know it’s difficult to write a book where everyone’s names are Elizabeth, Edward, Richard and Anne, but apart from ‘Nan’ which was a nickname of that time, the modernity of ‘Bess’, ‘Bella’ or ‘Lisbet’ and the use of them in-text and not just dialogue, did much to draw me out of the medieval era. This is not just a criticism towards Penman but a grand majority of historical fiction novelists of this period. Having said that, her choice to cut conjunctions and use the word ‘be’ intead of ‘is’ or ‘are’ did not bother me at all and I found it effective in dating the language a bit. I appreciate that writing in poetic prose for 800+ pages is extremely difficult, but other’s have done it. And even in other novel where that’s not the case, the writing is still profound and impactful and conveys a deeper meaning, whereas here it’s more of a fictionalised history book. The author appears to have some imagination as the few scenes she made up e.g. Catherine Woodville’s visit to Richard or Edward summoning Edmund’s previous carer John to talk about Edmund as he was trying to deal with the grief of losing George, any scene with Cecily Neville in it, Anne Neville and Veronique (OC lady-in-waiting to her) when they were in hiding, Rosamund and Richard at the end, Margaret of Anjou when she was lodged at that abbey, When Stillington visited George before his death to give him a rosary and last rites and he refused to get them from him, Anne and Richard going to Middleham and Isabel’s lying in state were just some of them. However, even if you took all those well-written scenes and stuck them together they would not be more than maybe 150 pages which is not good in such a massive novel. I really don’t know how I would rank the prose, I feel weird saying it’s at the low bestseller level because at least it’s not overwritten and annoying, however, it lacked a lot of soul most of the time, which is dissapointing given what Penman had to work with. I can see that the author has some strengths, for example she’s good at writing about the weather and the natural landscape, she’s also good at describing facial expressions. But her massive flaw is dialogue and flow - especially the latter. The flow is hindered by her abject inability to weave historical events and their happenings into the prose, so she often settles for an exposition dump, especially when it comes to some male chatacter’s POV such as John Howard, Francis Lovell or Buckingham. A lot of the characters exposited at each other too, which wasted the opportunity for some serious character profiles. Basically too much telling and not enough showing. In conclusion, It didn’t always feel clunky, expository or laboured, but it way too often did for the good to be redeemed by the bad prose-wise.

In Conclusion, I cheated on this book a couple of times when it dragged, but got right back into it whenever the good sections came along. It is one of these books which people cannot stop raving about and I can’t stress how much I wanted to love it when I got it. It’s nice being a fan of something a lot of people are too for once, but it was just not to be. But at least now I can say I have read the cult classic of this histfic niche which apparently everyone has read and cried over. Even though it took me 7 months where others got through it in a week through sleepless nights. Despite all the negativity in this review, I would still reccomend it as it is a solid book and written by someone who clearly gets the conflict and time period. You will learn lots with this book (I intend to keep it as a sort of timeline) regarding things that you might otherwise find too dry to research in depth e.g. battle strategies and sieges. But what you will not learn about is the characters’ psychologies and personalities though Penman tries very hard and heavy-handedly to exposit their feelings to us.

[janeyseymour]

Chance Encounter

Prompt: okay hi! i don't know if you still need jane prompts (though it's not really mom!jane) but what if abby!jane and jessie!jenna bumped into each other in new york or something? like jane is in a busy coffee shop and jenna takes the only open seat across from jane while waiting for lulu and jim to meet her and she starts talking to jane. and when jim comes he makes a joke about them looking like sisters :D idk feel free to talk a LOT of creative liberty! hope you're well and had a good day <3 -ay

Here it is! I hope it’s alright! It truly was so fun to write this! Thank you for trusting me with your idea!

They say there are seven people in the whole world who look like you, but it is highly unlikely you’ll never meet them. Highly unlikely means there’s a chance though. You never know if, when, or where you’re going to find your lookalike. For Jane Seymour and Jenna Hunterson, it was about to happen in the smallest of coffee shops. 

“Janey, can you please come and sit in the shop? It’s my first day of work.” Jane stopped herself from rolling her eyes. 

“Why can’t-” 

“Kat’s starting her first day too. Please?” Anne pouted slightly. “I’m just really nervous, having your familiar face around will help.” 

“I suppose I can stick around the shop tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much!” Anne threw herself into Jane’s arms.

“Of course love.”

“And tomorrow after work, I can help you find a job too!” Since SiX closed, the queens were scrambling to find work to support themselves. Staying in New York was expensive, and the six of them were not ready to part with the place they loved to call home. Catherine and Cathy had both ended up working at a journalism office. Anna had found a place looking for athletic models. Katherine was more than happy to work retail while she waited for her first semester of college to begin. That left Jane who, if she was going to be completely honest with herself, wasn’t sure what to do now that the show was over.

-

The tall blonde had settled herself into the corner of the coffee shop at the very beginning of Anne’s shift and was quietly sipping her tea and reading. Every once in a while, Anne would come out from behind the counter with a new cup of warm tea for her friend. 

“Thank you love,” she would say happily before returning to her book. 

“Excuse me?” A voice interrupted her reading. “Is it alright if I sit here?”

Jane looked up, only now realizing that every other seat was taken but the three around her. 

“I suppose,” Jane said curtly before returning to her book. 

“Oh, that’s a really good book,” the woman who she didn’t know whispered. “I should read that again.”

“Carole King really is amazing, isn’t she?” Jane tucked the book away.

“Amazing. My husband and I saw the musical at the end of 2018. The woman who played Carole was stunning.”

“There was a musical about her life?” Jane didn’t know about this. Her and the queens were too busy with their own show at the time in Chicago to really take in all of the other shows around them.

“Yeah, but it closed. 6 years of running, especially now, is great.” Jane hummed in agreement. She knew this firsthand. 

“Yeah. I was actually in a broadway show for a while. It was nice. But it closed, and now we’re all looking for new jobs,” Jane sighed. She really did miss performing, but at least now she was able to take control of her life again. 

“Oh, what show? Maybe I’ve seen it?”

“Uhm,” Jane paused. “SiX?”

“Wait, I knew you looked familiar! You’re Jane Seymour!” the woman whispered.

“That is me.”

“You were amazing. Your song really got me.”

“Thank you,” Jane trailed off when she realized she hadn’t yet learned the woman’s name.

“Jenna. Jenna Hunterson.” Jenna stuck her hand out.

“Nice to meet you Jenna.”

“I mean it, your performance was amazing.”

“Thank you,” the blonde laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just not very good at accepting compliments.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. Neither am I.”

“Enough about me. What brings you to this quiet little coffee shop?”

“I just got off from work, and my husband brings my daughter here after school sometimes. You know, she gets a treat, we get some of the best coffee around. I just wish they would tell me how they make their coffee so I could bring it to my shop,” Jenna muttered the last part mostly to herself. 

“Oh? You work at a restaurant around here?” Jane was always looking for a new place to try.

“Uhm, have you heard of Lulu’s Pies?” The brunette seemed a bit hesitant to reveal the name of her place of work. 

“I’ve never had the chance to go there, but I’ve heard amazing things. People around here say it’s the best pie you’ll ever find and that little Lulu herself is often at the diner with her Mama on the weekends.”

“Well, I can’t promise that it’s the best pie you’ll find, but it’s true that little Lulu is at the diner often. She loves seeing all the friendly faces in New York.”

“Maybe I’ll have to stop in soon. Do you work there often?”

“I’m there everyday baking the pies, waitressing, chatting with the regulars that come in. It’s-”

“Sounds like you’ve been there for quite some time.”

“Well, actually,” the brunette laughed awkwardly. “I’m kind of the owner.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll for sure have to stop in now.”

“I’ll make sure to have the best slice of pie ready for you,” Jenna offered with a warm smile. 

“So how’d you manage to open up your own business in New York?” 

“Well, before it was Lulu’s Pie, I worked at a small diner out in Kentucky: Old Joe’s. When Joe passed away, he left me the place. That crazy old man, gosh I miss him everyday. He had the faith in me to keep the business running, and with a bit of work, the restaurant started growing. Jim, my husband, convinced me to take the leap and open up a place in New York. Two years later, and here we are, although I do sometimes miss the small town life.” The brunette kept her story short. No point in boring the poor woman. 

“That’s wonderful. I guess sometimes you just have to take that leap.”

“I’m sure glad he told me to do it. New York is full of so many people, and everything is always changing. You never know who you just might meet.” 

“Hi Jenna,” a man’s voice came from behind Jane. 

“Mama!” a little girl squealed as her eyes set on her mother. 

“Hi sweet child of mine,” Jenna opened her arms up for the child to run into.

“Did Daddy let you pick out your treat for today?” Lulu nodded enthusiastically.

“She picked possibly the most sugar-filled thing in the restaurant. The barista behind the counter snuck in two when she heard Lulu’s manners.” Jim chuckled, still not moving from behind Jane.

“Oh Anne,” Jane laughed softly to herself. Anne always had a soft spot for children, especially when they were well behaved.

“Who are you?” Lulu looked at the woman across from her mother. Her tone wasn’t rude, but rather genuinely curious. “I’m Lulu, and I’m 6 and a half!”

“Very nice to meet you Lulu. I’m Jane.” A pang of guilt surged through the blonde. She had to admit, she was a bit jealous Jenna was able to spend all of the time in the world with her daughter. If only Jane had been able to spend time with Edward.

“Take a seat Jim,” Jenna gestured to the chair next to her. “Do you remember that musical we saw a little while ago? SiX?” 

“Oh yeah. It was pretty good. Why?” Jim hadn’t really looked at Jane yet. 

“This-” Jenna gestured to the queen across from her. “is Jane Seymour. The third queen?”

“Jim Pomatter.” The tall and lanky man stuck out his hand as he sat. Only then did he really get a good look at the blonde. “Wow,” was all he could say.

“Pardon?” Jane tilted her head.

“You look just like my wife.” Jim looked at the two women. “You could be sisters.”

“Jim,” Jenna laughed awkwardly. “We look nothing alike. She’s so much prettier.”

“I-” the blonde didn’t know how to respond. “You’re very pretty too.”

“No seriously, you two look so similar. If one of you dyed your hair, you would look exactly the same! This is crazy! I don’t know how I didn’t see it before!” Jim couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Jane? Do you like pie? My mama owns a diner around here, and it’s named after me!” Lulu interrupted.

“Daddy, Jane, and I were having a conversation Lu,” Jenna chided gently.

“Oh, it’s alright,” Jane waved it off as she brought her attention to the small girl in her mother’s lap. “I do like pie! Your mama and I were actually talking about the diner earlier, and I would love to come in one day and try a piece! Do you think you could pick out the best pie for me to try?” 

“If you come in on Satur- tomorrow! Saturday is tomorrow! If you come in tomorrow, I’ll be there! I can even make sure to save you a slice of Mama’s Mermaid Marshmallow Pie! It sells out really fast, but I’ll make sure Mama doesn’t give away the last slice.”

“Sweetie, Jane will come in when she can come in,” Jenna whispered.

“I can come tomorrow.”

“Really?” Lulu’s eyes lit up with excitement. 

“I promise,” Jane giggled. It’s as if her presence was just making this girl’s day, and she didn’t even know she was famous. The little girl liked Jane just for being Jane.

“Yes! I’ll save you a booth, and maybe we can color and it’s going to be so much fun!” Lulu put her hand in the air, to which Jane high fived her.

“That sounds like a lot of fun Lulu. Should I bring my colored pencils?”

“You really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jenna tried to ease the pressure off of Jane. She knew her little girl could come on strong- something she no doubt learned from Becky.

“Oh it’s not a problem.” Jane smiled.

“Well Miss Lulu, I think it’s about time we head home. Mama’s gotta make some dinner, and then if you want to be up bright and early to be at the diner tomorrow, we’ve gotta go to bed,” Jim said as he finished off the last of his coffee.

“Can Jane come for dinner?” The little girl looked at her mother for permission. 

“You’ll see Jane tomorrow at the diner.” 

“But mama,” the child began to whine.

“Actually Lulu, I should probably get going too. I’ve got dinner to make for my family too.” Perhaps if Jane told the six year old she also had to go home and make dinner, it would be easier for Jim and Jenna to get her out of the shop. “But I promise you I’ll come in tomorrow with loads of paper and colored pencils for us to color. Does that sound like a plan?”

“You promise?” Lulu gave her a pointed look.

“I promise.” Jane smiled warmly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lulu.” Jane waved goodbye at the family who had begun to pack up their things. What the blonde wasn’t expecting was for the sweet girl to embrace her. 

“Thank you for being so nice to me.”

“Thank you for being so nice to me Lulu. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Lulu gave her a thumbs up.

“You know, Lulu isn’t usually that open with adults she’s just met,” Jenna offered casually as she helped Lulu back into her jacket.

“It’s because she looks just like you Jenna!” Jim still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that a broadway star (and a former queen) looked just like his wife.

“Well, she’s a very sweet girl,” Jane complimented. The brunette nodded in acknowledgement.

“Have you found a job since SiX closed?”

“I- I’m afraid not yet.”

“Do you want a job?”

“I don’t think I could. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you in the kitchen, and I’ve never been a waitress, and-”

“Lulu needs a Nanny. The last woman we had watching her moved away.” 

“I-”

“Oh please Jane!” Lulu looked at her with pleading eyes. 

“Lu, why don’t we go outside and wait for Mama while she talks to Jane?” Jim suggested. 

“Oh okay Daddy,” the small girl over-exaggerated her sigh. Bye Jane! See you tomorrow!”

“Looking forward to it sweetheart,” Jane’s voice was honest. The blonde really was looking forward to it.

“It was so nice to meet you Jane.”

“You too Jim.” Jane watched as the father led his daughter out the door.

“She really is a good kid,” Jane thought out loud. 

“Would you be interested in Nannying for us? There’s no pressure. But since you mentioned needing work, and I have work to offer, I figured I would ask. If you don’t want to, then that’s more than fine. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen my little girl speak to another adult other than my husband and me with such excitement.”

“You’re willing to trust me, a stranger you met maybe an hour ago, to watch over your precious angel?”

“I’m pretty sure if you were to do anything immoral, we would’ve heard about it by now. You are kind of in the public eye.”

Jane thought this over. “I suppose you’re right.” 

“So? What do you say?”

“I- I think I’d like that.”

“We can talk about the logistics of it all tomorrow? Over a slice of Mermaid Marshmallow?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Well, I better get going. I wasn’t lying when I said I had to cook dinner. But it really was a pleasure meeting you Jane. I think this may just be the start to a beautiful friendship.” Jenna winked playfully and made her way out of the coffee shop. 

-

“How was your first day of work?” Jane grinned at the girl in green.

“It was alright. I saw you talking to that one family for quite some time.”

“Yeah. A sweet family.” Jane smiled as she remembered the chance encounter.

“See? Coming to my first shift wasn’t so bad afterall, was it?”

“I guess you’re right.” 

“Are you ready to head home and start job hunting?”

“Actually Annie, I think I found a job. Nannying for that sweet family.”

Who would’ve known that something Jane didn’t want to do in the first place would lead her to a chance encounter with her lookalike, land her a job, and the beginning of a beautiful friendship?