#mindless-pidgeon

[tapinomatherat]

Introductionmaxxing

Yelllooo!!! My name's Aether but I don't mind being called by Tapinoma

I am an AroAce Transmasc!!! He/Him

I'll mostly just reblog fandom content (whilst also going feral in tags). Think of my blog as a sorta perpetual stew filled with the most random stuff around.

Here for original content? Here's some tags to help you find em!

+Mindless Indulgence - General rambling +Aether's Library in Limbo | ALIL - Oc Content (Will include both OC art and maybe some more OC lore?) +Shared Ponderings - Asks!!

+Reblogmaxxing - Reblogs

Looking for a specific OC? Here's their tags!

+Ambrose Goldspinner +Oliver Goldspinner +Eli Pidgeon +Rosalie Honeyquartz +Aether | The Clockwork Spider - My persona(s)

Do i know how tumblr works? No, but fuck it we ball 🔥

[mortemhq]

MERLIN’S BEARD, AURORA GREYBACK (SARAH PIDGEON), IS THAT YOU? it’s been so long – i thought you might’ve been dead! i mean, you never know in times like these. well, it’s good to have you back in the fight. come on now, there’s no time to waste – we need you to re-enter the fray within the next 48 hours, or else i fear all might be lost. don’t let us down – the world is counting on you.

[she/her, cis woman ] greetings to all of our listeners! we start today’s potterwatch with a long-awaited update on aurora iris greyback who was finally spotted alive just last night, wandering the streets of london. for those of you who haven’t tuned in before, they are a 24 year old unknown (werewolf) witch who is oddly reminiscent of not being classed a sinner ; nor a saint but something in between which is more terrifying, known for flashing your big doe eyes as a distraction ; claws digging in once they realise it's too late, your father thought of you as a mindless sheep ; little did he know he raised his downfall in the form of sharp claws and teeth to match, swearing you're nothing like him but the rage that fills you is reminiscent of him ; the anger rattling your tone sounds exactly like his voice in your nightmares, you were kind and soft once in a faraway dream ; in the cracks of the mirror you see her sometimes ; a ghost of a girl you're not really sure is there, which makes sense considering their intelligent, charismatic, quirky, volatile, self preserved, and paranoid nature. you might know of them as the adopted child of fenrir greyback, and we’re sure that their family will be relieved to hear they’re safe and sound — or at least as much as you can be, in times like this. to all our listeners, if you catch a glimpse of someone who looks a bit like that muggle sarah pidgeon, that’s them. before approaching, please be aware that they’re rumored to be affiliated with the death eaters, so best proceed with caution. these are dangerous times we’re living in. well, thanks for tuning in, folks. we’ll play ourselves out with no complaints by noah kahan. [ it me courtney ]

[edwinjetpacktesting]

3 Mindless Pidgeons Clap Lazily

Untitled

[themangledsans0508]

@mindless-pidgeon lol I was supposed to be working but instead I finished this

Um quite a bit of blood so watch out for that

It was worth a shot, Mal thought to herself. She was lying on her back in the dirt, ferns clinging to her body as she felt the warm blood seep into the ground surrounding her from a bite in her legs. She had no idea what that thing was, both what it shapeshifted into once again and what it was naturally. Just a huge wolf, this time it was even bigger.

She didn’t feel anything. Emotion-wise, that is. Her back hurt like someone had broken her spine right in half, her arms burned from the scratches she received during her attempted escape and her legs…

God her legs.

They were coated in blood, both having been bitten and stabbed by sticks and rocks and anything with a damn point on the end. She had been dragged by her legs to her current position and it felt like her legs were nerves that got irritated at any touch.

So a lot of touch was really fucking painful.

She didn’t even know if she was even gonna live to make it to the monster’s destination. She didn’t know how she felt about that. 

 However, she was at peace with the fact she was going to die.

On the one hand, she really didn’t care. It was like running from the monster under your bed before you finally meet it face to face. It’s far scarier when it’s unknown. She was staring death in the face.

And she was laughing at her. She was laughing at death.

She didn’t think anyone would remember she fell off that cliff. Nobody would come looking for her. She had even driven her own murderer away before the job was finished. 

Did she hate herself? Meh. Not all of her, but probably a fair amount. However, she had always been scared of dying.

Of being forgotten.

Now she had come to terms with it. 

She looked up at the sun for the last time.

It was almost as bright as someone’s laugh had made her feel.

That girl could make her truly smile, to forget all her fears. 

She had dated others before, but she was different.

Molly was different.

The clock in her head stopped ticking.

She closed her eyes.

~

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Twenty.

The clock in her head starting ticking again.

Started beeping.

She refused to die here.

She didn’t believe in god besides when he was useful in her cussing, but maybe she did believe in fate. There was a reason this had happened, she had come to this camp, she had met those fellow girls, and she had fallen in love. She was ready to start throwing around the “L-word”.

She knew she couldn’t get up, but she could keep breathing and wait. She wasn’t even going to try to get up. She may be strong enough to live, but she wasn’t in one of Ripley’s animes.

She heard distant gunfire and cussing. Lots of cussing.

Who the hell owned a gun in these words? Everyone just had hatches and bows.

Wait. There is someone with a gun. She remembered. Trampling and more gunfire came from the surrounding forest, closing in upon her.

“I wasn’t looking for a maniac! I was just looking for directions!” She recognized the voice, but the fear was unusual for something that had tried to murder her. She glimpsed the large dark mass leap past her line of sight.

“You found me anyways, fox! You want directions? Ask the Grootslang!” The voice was feminine and powerful. And another she recognized. 

Abigail ran in fast pursuit of the fox, shotgun in hand and in the process of reloading.

“Hey,” Mal called as loud as she could. Abigail froze and scanned the area, eventually laying eyes upon Mal. She cussed and ran over, dropping to the ground right beside her.

“What happened kid? What’s your name?” Her voice was soft but infuriated. Mal assumed about either her condition or the fact that the fox had gotten away.

“Hey. Um. Name’s Mal. I’m one of the Roanokes. The ones who tried to stop you from waking the Grootslang?” Mal’s voice trailed off. She didn’t first think that maybe when your life depended on the kindness of a psycho, you shouldn’t bring up the fact that you were previously her adversary.

“Roanokes? You’re a Lumberjane then.” Abigail seemingly chose to ignore the rest of her statement, which Mal respected and appreciated. 

“Yeah. I kinda got into some trouble and-”

“I can see that. What were you doing out here by yourself?” Mal thought of how to answer that. She didn’t know this woman, besides the fact that she may have been dating Rosie at one point. 

“I fell off a cliff,” she said. It wasn’t the full truth, but not a lie either.

“This doesn’t come from falling off a cliff. What did those bite marks come from? A wolf? A bear? Tell me Mal.” Mal sighed.

“A weird shape-shifting fox thing,” she confessed. “The same thing you were hunting.”

“She doesn’t usually cause harm herself. Did she say anything?” Abigail inquired.

“She was doing someone a ‘favor.’ I don’t know who,” she said. Abigail nodded.

“Alright. You need help. That’s a fact. My cabin is too far away to carry you in this state. However, if I remember correctly, the Lumberjanes camp is that way.” She pointed north. “Correct?”

“Uh, I actually don’t know,” Mal mumbled. “I got kind of disoriented in the process of ending up here, so, maybe?” 

Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply.

“Okay, well then we’re going with my gut instinct.” Abigail bent down and gingerly picked Mal up, sending searing pain through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and held in a scream. 

“Alright, let’s go.”

~

Molly was hearing things.

Upon discovering the mess of red, Molly had briefly collapsed. Rosie remained as determined as ever, insisting that Mal was alive. She decided they split up, Rosie and Jen, and Molly and Nellie. She wasn’t blind to the fact that they hoped it would distract her, that she would be so preoccupied with asking questions that she would be able to get her off track while Rosie did the real heavy lifting.

Unfortunately for them, it didn’t work.

Molly ran through the woods, Nellie on her heels instead of the other way around. Molly hadn’t asked any questions, and Nellie had no sarcastic comments to make to the girl.

She could hear things, voices surrounding her. The trees themselves spoke to her. They told her directions, right, forward, left, back. She could sense animals that had meant harm avoiding her. She could even feel the portals to the other dimensions around her.

Then she saw a light.

And she ran straight towards it.

~

Nellie struggled to understand how people felt so attached to others.

Maybe it was because she was always a person who preferred to be alone. Maybe it was because she would rather deal with things herself, and let everyone else deal with their problems, or maybe it was because the only thing she truly cared about was these woods.

This camp.

This girl.

There was something different about her, she could tell. It was written on her. Rosie could see it, Abigail could see it, she could see it herself. The girl, Molly, could only feel it.

But there were other things that could see it too. Things that want to use it to remove the seal that kept these woods away from the rest of the world.

Despite all of this, she was different even for a guardian. Nellie herself would readily admit that she could use magic, but that doesn’t mean every guardian can. Molly, however, could use magic even better that she could. 

If she knew, that was.

Perhaps she felt obliged to care about her, perhaps she felt bad for her, perhaps she saw a bit of herself in her.

Whatever it was, she wanted to help this kid.

But, she couldn’t help this if she kept running into every dangerous situation she saw.

For instance, running into that area of woods.

His area.

“What do you think you’re doin’ girl?” She was lucky she was part bear, otherwise, she couldn’t keep up with that kid. She took off running after the stream of blonde, taking notice of the fact that wherever she stepped, the ground seemed to instantaneously die. 

~

Although she felt like she was burning to ashes, Mal was still awake and could see the sea of green pass above her as Abigail raced through the forest. Clinging as tightly as she could in her current state she held to Abigail’s back. She felt dizzy for several reasons, blood loss being a major one. Abigail was strong, but she couldn’t run as fast as either of them wanted.

She suddenly stopped, nearly slipping in her haste. She looked into the abyss of plants, her eyes fixed on something Mal could not see.

“There’s someone coming,” she said flatly. She carefully stepped towards the object of her interest, before freezing once again.

A burst of blonde dived out of the woods, eyes fixed solely on Abigail. Mal recognized her the moment she emerged from the dark.

Molly, with small scratches littering her body from dashing through the woods, stood directly in front of Abigail with anger and fear dominating her eyes.

“Molly!” Mal called. Her voice was weak, but she could hear her.

“Mal!” She rushed towards Abigail.

“You. Let. Her. Go. Now!” She demanded. Mal let go of Abigail’s back with one hand, loosely holding it in front of them.

“Molly! Wait! She saved me. It’s not her fault. But, um, Abigail? Could you let me down? I might be able to walk.” Abigail nodded, gently crouching down and releasing her. Mal tried to get a firm grip on the ground, but immediately almost fell back into the dirt. Abigail’s firm grip kept her upright. She turned to Molly.

“You might want to help her, I don’t want to leave her trying to stand by herself.” She nodded and rushed over, carefully wrapping her arms around Mal’s waist. Mal felt warmth flood to her face, being touched in any way by someone you really love can make you blush.

She learned that fast after meeting Molly.

~

Molly held Mal tightly like she was the only rope holding her up from falling in hell. She was never letting her go again. Metaphorically, that is. She felt tears escape the prison she had locked them. She closed her eyes and rested her head atop Mal’s. If Mal hadn’t been in danger, she would have wished the moment could last forever.

~

Nellie emerged from the woods at last. She wanted to see how the girl would handle it. But god, did she hate tears. She approached Abigail silently, before turning back to a human and resting her hand on her arm.

“You did good, girl. But don’t think for a second this means you can do whatever you want in these here woods!” She scolded, removing her hand and crossing her arms.

“You old bat! She would have died if I hadn’t come along! I should hang you up and-” she took a deep breath. “Thank you. For the compliment.”

Nellie nodded, a silent understanding embracing the two.

“Your girl is on the other side of the woods if you want to see her. I know you watch her from the woods, kid.” Abigail clenched her fists.

“Thank you, grandma,” She sneered and rushed off before Nellie could give her a lashing with her words. She turned back to a grizzly and approached the girls.

~

Sutela watched from the treetops, careful not to be seen. True, she was a small fox at the moment, but that old hag could recognize her if she was a rock. She lost the girl, the only thing the boss wanted. On the flip side, she found someone with even more potent energy to her than the flannel girl. He’d want to hear about that. She carefully lept from the trees back to her home and her boss, where she hoped she could make up for her failure.

~

Mal woke up at last. Coated in bandages and under bunk-arrest, she couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. She had slept for a while, exhausted and scarred (literally) from the adventure.

She didn’t know how Rosie managed to convince her mom that nothing had actually happened, and it had simply been a nightmare. That took talent. Or drugs.

Lots of drugs.

She breathed deeply. The warmth of her bunk reflecting on her body and making her feel safe.

Until the door creaked open.

She felt panic fill her body. Everyone was supposed to be at activities, it couldn’t be one of her cabin-mates.

“Mal?”

Or maybe it could.

Molly stepped into the cabin, carefully closing the door behind her. She came and knelt next to Mal’s bunk. She reached her hand out and placed it on her cheek.

“Are you okay?” She nodded and moved over, patting the bunk to invite her on. 

Molly complied, carefully climbing onto the bunk and laying on her side adjacent to Mal. She reached out and pulled Mal towards her so their foreheads were touching and intertwined their legs.

“Mal, I-” She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing raggedly. “I thought you had died.” Mal laughed weakly and moved one hand to hold hers.

“I did too. Molly, when I was out there, I think I almost died. And not to be sappy but, I think it was you that helped me hang on. I was about the throw in the towel, and I did. For like a half-hour, it was just dark. Then I realized I had to try and live because I had to see you again. “ She felt tears slide down her face as she spoke. She tried to keep her voice from cracking as she continued.

“I thought about you and the fact that I-I love you. Like I’ve said that before to other girls when I dated them, but you’re different. I think about things with you routinely that would have never crossed my mind with them. I want to grow up with you Molly. Through everything. I want to stay with you. And if you don’t feel that way, fuck, we aren’t even dating, it’s okay. I can respect that.” Mal held her breath.

Molly couldn’t help but feel jealous, angry even, hearing about the fact Mal had previously dated other girls. She had to remember that it was in the past. Even though she feared that maybe Mal was lying, she could feel the truth in her words. She was telling the whole truth.

“Mal, I did nothing but search for you for hours. I’d do it again, and again, and again. I want to be with you, Mal. I think I-” she hesitated briefly. “I love you too. A lot. I would do anything for you. And hearing you feel the same way, I can’t believe it. I get to call you my girlfriend. I’ll be so happy once it sets in.” Mal laughed.

“What’ll help it set in?” she asked. 

“Sleep,” Molly smiled. Mal scooted closer to her, nuzzling into her neck and wrapping her arms around her back.

“Well, I’m under bed-arrest, so we can do that for a while.” Molly grinned like a kid with candy and looked down at Mal, softly kissing her forehead. She held her tightly.

“I love you, Mal.”

“I love you, Molly.”

lol ill tag the wattpad stuff later but if you wanna request you can

[bananaa-fever]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let’s get to know the person behind the blog!

owo

i cried so much when watching mamma mia here we go again i dont think its poddible to answer how much i've cried

i have two cacti in front of my window (the most boring fact ever)

my favourite school subjects are history, art and french

[isfjmel-phleg]

Comment to library staff from a student at one of our satellite campuses on his article request form: Please leave on porch if unavailable

Important to know for whenever I hand-deliver this PDF to your doorstep, thanks.

[violetlypurple]

⊙﹏☉ = What flusters the character (for Nethali)

A walk through Lima's decks always did Nethali some good. Maybe there was something to stretching one's legs that worked to clear the mind. Maybe she just enjoyed checking on the ports, ever changing by the hour with their stacks of cargo and ships of all callings. Maybe this was merely where no one would complain when she lit the end of a thin cigar with a snap of her fingers. The wonders a smoke and a mindless gaze out over the ocean could do for a fraying day.

"LADY VALENTIONE!" someone shouted, practically echoing across the water.

Nethali nearly dropped the cigar, fumbling as she wheeled around to find the source. Practically sprinting down the cobbles was a young elezen boy who, clearly Ishgardian by his attire, skidded to a halt two paces from her upon spotting the grimace that had frozen itself on her face. With a jerk, he extended an arm, hand clutching a letter.

"Lady Va—"

"Shhh!" The boy was cut short as Nethali closed the two paces in the space of a moment, hauling the boy up by the collar to pin him to the nearest wall. The poor lad froze in his shock, the end of his elder's cigar smoldering an ilm from his face.

"I am Nethali of Limsa Lominsa, second lieutenant in the Maelstrom's Crimson Fleet." She plucked the envelope from the boy's hand before lowering him back down to rest his feet on the cobbles once again, straightening his shirt with a glare. "That is my only title, understand?"

The boy nodded his head with such vigor that he threatened to shake the feathered cap right off his head.

"Good. If your house wishes to correspond with me, they shall do it by post. Which I will ignore at my discretion." She wagged a finger at him menacingly. The boy nodded some more, still frozen in his spot. "Go home."

With the boy sprinting back up the path, Nethali stuffed the letter in her coat pocket with a huff and returned to her walk.

She really doesn't like being associated with her house.

Thanks @pidgeon-sorrel!

[alteangf]

It’s never easy to tell when a war is over. That sort of simplicity is reserved for historians writing textbooks rather than the history itself. But the Galra are broken into pitiful fractions, yesterday Allura tried her first donut, and they’re on a Garrison shuttle back to the city rather than to a battle. So things are looking tentatively... good. Tentatively really good. 

The bus is rumbly, old. Lance is in a seat first and turns down a bright-eyed, optimistic looking girl who moves to sit next to him. He says he has strategies to discuss with Keith - he's sorry. She walks away deflated, but not questioning. Workaholics - that's what you get when you go for someone at the top of the Garrison food chain.

Keith gets there and Lance asks if he wants the window seat, moving over. They're sharing an air pod each and looking out the window, chatting idly. Keith reads for a little while. Lance takes off his powder blue hoodie and Keith shucks it on with a wordless grin. He's in Lance's colours, the colour of the sky, of summer and daydreams and dawn seas. And he looks so, so soft, and disarmed. Usually he's only like this in Lance's room, standing in his boxers and Lance's shirt ready for bed. But here he's in public, sort of - and it means something, to see Keith trust Lance with this side of him out in the world, where he's infinitely more exposed.

They've hiked up the arm rest between them so they can slouch together. Later, Keith naps, folding into lance's side, head resting on his shoulder. Their hands are held loosely together, mindless and natural even in sleep. Lance looks out the window at the passing landscape, unknown in its specifities but achingly familiar in the way that all Earthen terrain is. It's a familiarity he's come to appreciate and nurse after his distance from it.

He becomes aware again of the music he's listening to after being lost to his thoughts, as the strings and electronic staccato swell and flow: trip down the hill, strawberry fields, Are you even real? She said, "tell me how you feel" Are you even real? Are you even real? He feels the feathery brush of Keith's hair against his cheek, the weight of his head rolling over his shoulder, the softness of his expression lax in sleep, the blush on his cheeks from the warmth of Lance's hoody and Lance's side and Lance's grasp. Are you even real? It's all Lance can think.

Spurred by rising tide of love that suffuses him without hesitation, prompt or mercy, he turns his head and presses a firm kiss to the crown of Keith's head, and stays there. He lets his lips rest as he watches the dusk fall thicker by the minute and the blue wash of light against their clasped hands, and wonders how he ever got so lucky as to have Keith sleeping in his arms.

Later, his phone buzzes with a notification. Pidgeon te envió un mensaje. Setting his device to Spanish: another luxury he now finds absurdly indulgent. The message is a photo of him and Keith in the low light, Keith in his hoodie and Lance in his bright white t-shirt, hands clasped, Keith turned almost completely into Lance's side, and Lance's lips pressed to the crown of his head. “Thought you might want to save this one for the wedding slide show,” the message reads. Lance turns to look at Pidge, who is resolutely not looking at him, being averse to emotional displays and casually sappy sentiments generally. But Lance feels her recognition of what they have deep in his bones, and he goes up and gives Pidge a side hug wordlessly, with a warm smile, and drifts away before she can shrug him off. 

He wanted to thank for her suggestion, because it's a good one.

[sweetestrequiems]

Enough is Enough

Requested by: An anon as lovely as a sunrise. Thanks for sending a letter! 

Summary: Anne Boleyn and Catalina de Aragón tend to act all tough against each other on stage. But one night, something about Boleyn’s tone during the show had hit Aragón right in the heart. A knife felt as if it was stabbed and twisted into her chest. Boleyn comes to the realization her delivery might have been enough to hurt the Spanish queen.

Character(s): Aralyn (Catalina de Aragón / Anne Boleyn) (Yes, the other Queens are in this.)

TW: mentions of miscarriages, mention of Boleyn/Howard beheadings (“I had not one, not two, but three miscarriages!” / “Nice neck, by the way!”)

A/N: Y’all want angst? I’ll give it to you. But I have never written Aralyn in my life so this might end up more hurt/comfort than angst if anything, really. I really hope y’all don’t crucify me and throw me out to the wolves. I tried my best. 

Nuestra Señora de Providencia, la Virgen María... this IS hurt/comfort.  

Have mercy on me, Aralyn shippers. 

Tag List: @bchcadcd | @mindless-pidgeon

––––––––––

A normal show night for the six wives of the Tudor monarch tended to end in laughter with their ladies in waiting.

But on this peculiar night, that was not the case for one of the six wives.

The show had been progressing on as normal, until the end of All You Wanna Do, which did bring quite a heart wrenching reality into the show. And then came the fight Catherine Parr always had to break up. Normally, the ladies knew their tones and how to keep it lighter than the subject matter, but tonight felt off. And the feeling of being off came from the first and second wives of the Tudor monarch: the Spanish paragon, Catalina de Aragón, and the supposed mystery, Anne Boleyn. Was it just stress, or something else? They did not know. And quite frankly, they would probably never find out.

“Oh, okay. Fine, fine! But then, when Henry decided he had had enough of me, he didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye!”

“Same!” Responded the young Katherine Howard. She looks over to her cousin Anne Boleyn, who looked rather aggravated.

“Oh, yeah, same!” The brunette’s voice was laced with anger. “Nice neck by the way!” 

Something seemed to have hit Catalina in the heart when Anne so aggressively delivered what normally was Katherine’s line. With a gulp, the Spaniard knew she had to keep going. “Okay, alright. Well, now live up to this: when my one and only child had a raging fever, Henry didn't let me– her mother!– see–” The usual cut off from Jane Seymour. “Oh, boo hoo! Baby Mary had the chicken pox and YOU WEREN’T THERE to hold her hand? Ha, y’know, it’s funny... because when I wanted to hold my newborn son... I DIED!”

The slightly comedic cut in from Anna of Cleves. “Guys, I have the plague!” Followed by, “Lol, just kidding! My life’s amazing. But in defense of myself, I was humiliated on an international scale.” Anne Boleyn was just seeming slightly more snide with her deliveries today. And it all seemed to be pointed towards the Spanish queen. “Oh yeah! I can’t imagine what that must've felt like. Who else could possibly relate?!”

“Oh, pipe down Anne!” This was the more difficult part of the whole argument. This is what hurt Catalina the most to say, but tonight, the pain just hit her like a train. The mistresses bit came out just fine, but oh heavens, Anne went to take a full swing with her attitude. There was an angry smile on her face. “Well, I had not one, not two but three miscarriages!” Was Catalina not catching the hint about something? Or was Anne genuinely angry at her? She, quite frankly, could not tell.

So much so, that her confusion upon delivering the response line of her five miscarriages was a little weaker than usual. The other four queens had noticed this shift in Aragón’s tone from confident to slightly meek, and the aggression in Boleyn’s. They all glanced at each other, the concern carrying into the next moment, but nothing was physically said until the show was over. A hand grabbed Anne Boleyn’s shoulder, and tightly squeezed her until she turned around. Catherine Parr, who normally had to act as a mediator for the show, now had to do it outside of the show.

“Anne, what was that?” The sixth wife blinks, the concern coming back to her face. The second wife took one of her in-ears out, raising an eyebrow. “What are y’on about, mate? What d’you mean ‘what was that’? I’m fine.” In typical Boleyn fashion is how the brunette answered. With a soft sigh, Parr furrowed her eyebrows. “Anne, your delivery tonight of your lines? Extremely aggressive. Especially towards Catalina. What got into you?” This only got a shrug. “I was just doin’ my usual thing, Cathy. Relax, would you?”

“The usual for you isn’t unwarranted aggression we all felt, especially Catalina, and I’m quite sure of that! You need to find a way to tone it down, Anne.”  The second wife gave a carefree shrug, humming to herself as she headed on past the sixth wife. With a bit of a miffed sigh, Parr just hoped Boleyn would maybe realize she was being a little too... calm about all of this. But to where as Boleyn was calm, Aragón was not. A rather concerned Seymour and Anna of Cleves were with the woman, trying to calm her down.

“Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said?”

“Nein! Du hast nichts falsch gemacht!” The fourth wife crossed her arms, a little aggravated her Spanish counterpart would blame herself for something so trivial. Most of her was willing to bet that Boleyn was experimenting with her delivery of lines and went too far, but a small part of her really thought there was true animosity between the two. She was aware the couple had been together, but she also knew they had trouble getting along at first because of the historical past. Maybe Boleyn had some suppressed anger from something? No one knew.

Cleves furrows her eyebrows, sitting down next to Seymour, opposite of Aragón. “You two haven’t fought recently, have you?” A shake of the head from the Spaniard. Her eyes looked a little defeated, and even Seymour could see the hurt. The confusion in the Spaniard’s eyes had the Englishwoman’s lip quivering into a pout almost. “Go talk to her, Lina,” the meek voice of the third wife somehow tended to bring comfort to even the most bothered of people. A tensed up first wife made eye contact with the fourth, and then the third, nodding. “I will, I promise.”

Of course, dinner that night at the household was rather... quiet. None of the queens were really talking much, but Aragón herself wasn’t at the dinner table. The first wife was eating dinner in her room, with a Netflix show playing as background noise. She wasn’t minding it much attention, because her mind was elsewhere. She kept trying to remember what she had done wrong, or even what her and Boleyn had recently argued about. Nothing could come to her mind. She was humble, loyal, and really tried to swallow her pride all along. A knock came to the bedroom door.

Probably Seymour, so Aragón allowed for whoever it was to come in.

She was not expecting for it to be her partner.

“Lina...” The second wife seemed to have guilt written all over her face. “I came to check on you... since you were talking to Anna and Jane earlier, I didn't want to interrupt.” A nervous smile. Boleyn must’ve began feeling the weight of her guilt in the realization Parr had hit her with much earlier that evening. “Lina, I’m sorry–”

“Did I do something wrong, Anne?”

There it was. The hurt and confusion reflecting in Aragón’s eyes, and it made Boleyn feel but the worst, too. Maybe, just maybe... she should have warned her partner she was going to try and change the delivery of her lines. Almost immediately, the second Tudor wife paced over to the first and pulled her into a tight hug. “No, Lina. No... no. You didn’t do anything wrong, I just impulsively do a lot of stupid stuff without telling other people.”

Silence. The embrace was warm. It was helping Catalina calm down.

“I changed my tone tonight because I wanted to try something. Seeing if maybe getting just a little more heated would add anything. I did it to Jane, and to Kat even. I didn’t realize though, it would actually feel like a stab in the heart to you. They weren’t very happy about it either, if it brings any comfort. But really, Lina, I’m so sorry...” The brunette gave her partner a kiss on the cheek. “I should’ve probably sat down and spoken about it. I would never actually intend to–”

“I know, Annie, I know. I’m just glad you managed to come and apologies about it.”

[parrlynrights]

“They threw a glass cup at my head!”

Requested by @mindless-pidgeon

Summary: Anne and Aragon get into a fight over who knows what and Aragon ends up throwing a cup at Anne, triggering memories of the time she lost her head.

It’s no surprise that Cathy is always in her and Anne’s shared room. She’s constantly working, writing new stories, improving her part in the show, and most importantly writing a more accurate version of her life and the rest of the queens’ lives.

So she stayed in the room. Anne would occasionally pop in to check on her and bring her snacks. It was the only time you could catch the green queen being quiet. She would walk in, set the snacks down on the desk, and kiss the top of Cathy’s head as she left. Cathy loves it when she did that. Cathy loves peace and quiet.

However, it’s hard to get peace and quiet when you live with five other women, each crazier than the last.

That’s what was currently bothering Cathy. She was working on a story that had popped into her head the night before when she heard the yelling. Aragon and Anne were screaming about something, most likely along the lines of ‘who took the last Oreo?’ Cathy was trying to block it out but they were being so loud.

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering and an ear piercing scream stopped the arguing. Cathy dropped everything and ran out into the kitchen, where she saw her girlfriend sitting in the fetal position, crying while Aragon tried to comfort her.

“Anne...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I got lost in the heat of the moment...I’m so sorry.” Aragon was apologizing profusely as Anne cried and shook.

Cathy ran over to Anne and immediately knelt down beside her. She took Anne’s hand in hers. “Anne...baby...what happened?”

“She...threw a glass...a glass cup at my...my head!” Anne forced out in between sobs. Cathy turned to Aragon.

“You threw a glass cup at her head?!” Cathy yelled at the older woman.

“Look, I wasn’t thinking...I’m so sorry.” Arogon apologized, looking like she was also on the verge of tears.

Cathy took Anne in her arms and brought her back into their room. Cathy sat the girl on the bed, and hugged her close.

Cathy didn’t understand why Anne was panicking so much. The cup had missed her head and hit the wall behind her. She had been fine.

“Baby...baby tell me what’s wrong.” Cathy said as she held Anne close. “What happened?”

Anne looked up at her with tear filled eyes. The sight of the fear in her eyes, broke Cathy’s heart. She didn’t say a word, she simply brought her hands up to the choker around her neck and took it off. The thin white scar was stil there, but there was a small red mark as well.

Cathy gasped at the sight. “It cut you...” she breathed out softly. Anne nodded, tears in her eyes.

“I just...I don’t want to lose my head again!” Anne cried. Cathy couldn’t do anything but pull Anne into her lap and hold onto her tightly.

“You won’t lose your head again. I swear.” Cathy whispered into Anne’s ear as she held her close. “I’m here. Henry’s not.”

Anne looked up at Cathy. “You’re here...”

Cathy smiled and kissed the top of Anne’s head. “I’m here....and I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Anne said softly as she drifted off to sleep in Cathy’s arms.

[sugarcoated-eloquence]

Foreboding (Targets: Part 2)

A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome to the shitshow, aka my blog. This is part two of a potential 4/5 part series that I am co-writing with the lovely @sweetestrequiems. Click here for Part 1. Each chapter is focused on a different queen or issue related to the queens. This specific chapter is Catherine Parr centric, but the other queens are all very present. 

Please note the following ships are canon in this fic’s universe: Parrlyn, Aramour

{Trigger warnings: anxiety, mention of blood, slight violence}

I should also note some passages are written in German and Spanish and should be google searched to better comprehend the story. 

Taglist: @sweetestrequiems, @theatergirl06, @silverpetals97, @six-fragile-dreams, @patdfobmcr-yt, @frogs-in-clogs, @mindless-pidgeon

Other than that..... enjoy! Below the cut.

It would not stop.

The constant feeling like something would go wrong.

Katherine Howard could not tell if it was the anxiety, or if it was something else. She physically felt okay, and everything seemed fine, but for the life of her, the girl could not put her finger on that bad feeling. Being so lost in her thoughts, Howard was found, brows furrowed, staring down at her food, rather than eating it. Of course, this raised concerns with her cousin, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Boleyn’s face began to reflect the concern when she raised an eyebrow. Seymour had more of a sad-looking face, but nonetheless, the worry was quite present.

“Katherine?”

“Hey, Kitty… you okay?”

The two voices snapped Howard out of her trance. She looked up, shaking her head seconds after her attention went to the two women. “Yeah, yeah! Just had something come across my mind is all. I’m fine, really. Guess I’m just getting the typical pre-show jitters everyone gets,” which wasn’t a lie, either. But, Katherine did feel a pang of guilt in having to be dishonest with Jane and Anne. Howard was one of the Queens who always got some pre-show anxiety, alongside Catherine of Aragon– (much to everyone’s surprise)– and Boleyn. It wasn’t a rare occasion, though, considering they had just about an hour before they had to head to the theatre. It wouldn’t seem like much now, but this feeling Katherine Howard was having was not a good one.

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During the matinee, Katherine could not shake off that constant thought.

But she was not alone. The feeling had begun to haunt her cousin Anne.

Anne Boleyn’s eyes began to glance around the audience, knowing that Katherine was in the middle of delivering the roast of the century to Jane, Catherine Parr, and Anna of Cleves. A certain man had caught her eye up in the upper level; the second row in the left Circle Slip of the Arts Theatre, to be more precise. Something about that blond hair. And cold, blue eyes. Something about the way he was leaning on the railing while he sat began to bother Anne. Her attention snapped right back to the show when she heard Katherine say, “I can’t even begin to think of how I could compete with you all. Oh wait, like this!” to signal the start of All You Wanna Do. But even with her focus on the show, Boleyn’s glances kept going back up to that strange man.

“I think we can all agree I’m the ten amongst these threes!”

What about him bothered Anne Boleyn so much? She did not know. 

Was it his face? No, he seemed to be fairly attractive. Was it the way he stared at all of them? Possibly, since he seemed to be rather uncomfortable when Aragon brought up Leviticus and Mary in No Way. He also looked disgusted during Boleyn’s spotlight in Don’t Lose Ur Head. He looked very, very abhorred with Haus of Holbein and Anna of Cleves. But his eyes when Katherine Howard was singing screamed danger, and Anne could see it. Her frequent glancing that first day saw him tense up upon a few lines:

“Tall, large, Henry the Eighth. 

Supreme Head of the Church of England. 

Globally revered, although you wouldn’t know it from the look of that beard.”

And the end of All You Wanna Do, as far as Anne could tell from where she was on the stage, had him gripping the railing tightly. Was anger the reason he furrowed his eyebrows, or something else? The distance was not helping her much. Overall, she was picking up a few assumptions just from the one matinee show. This guy was either a historian that pretty much agreed with Henry VIII’s horrible decisions in life, or someone the Queens knew personally. What Anne decided to think though, was the former. Maybe this guy was just a historian and unimpressed with the show, right?

That first show could have not ended sooner. But as the lights on the stage went somewhat dim to allow the six ladies to exit, Anne Boleyn paused and allowed the others to go in front of her. She kept her gaze on that very man, and watched him stand up, turn around, and head on out of the seating area. The fact that she was the last one to leave concerned Cleves a bit. Right before she could even reach the dressing room, the queen in red put a hand on the green queen’s shoulder. “Moment mal, Anne. Was stört dich? Du hast anscheinend nicht dein gewohntes Lächeln am Ende der Show gehabt,” the German gently gave the shoulder a squeeze. Boleyn found herself sighing. “What’s going on? You normally smile and you were barely holding one up today by the end of the show,” Cleves made herself translate what she had previously said. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I guess I thought I saw someone that Maggie knew in the audience. It was weird. I’m normally not out of it either. Anyways, if Aragon took the couch, she’s going to regret it. It’s my nap time,” the cheeky grin came back to the ruby lips. A nod from Cleves, and the two were well on their way to the dressing room. Was Aragon on the couch? Absolutely. And Anne 100% kicked her off of it just so she could lay down and sleep after she changed back into her comfortable clothes. No space buns, no makeup– just a giant hoodie and some sweatpants. 

––––––––––

The other dressing room was a little more lively for a good while.

Katherine Howard was up on her feet, bouncing around with energy. Catherine Parr had decided to join her this afternoon. What were the two doing while Jane Seymour took the time to answer some tweets and messages? Dancing. The two ladies were dancing, which was almost the catalyst for Jane setting her phone down and joining them. In fact, she just wanted in on the fun. The three danced around for maybe half an hour, before a yawning Katherine Howard took to the couch to take a nap herself. Parr and Seymour stayed awake, with Parr looking for her notebook and Seymour going back to the tweets and messages.

“Cathy, look at this,” tapping her counterpart on the shoulder, the blonde woman moved her phone to be between them both. “It’s us with our kids!” If there was one thing Jane Seymour loved about the fans they had, it was all of the fanart of them with their kids. A smile was brought to Catherine Parr’s face as she looked up to meet Jane’s eyes. “If there’s one thing I have always appreciated, it’s that they know we aren’t the only Tudors that kicked some serious ass.” The laugh both of them shared was quiet, as to not wake Katherine up from her post-show nap. 

The calligraphy pen twirled around Parr’s fingers for a solid minute or so before she finally began to write. Each queen had their thing to do post-matinee if it was a two-show day.

Catherine Parr wrote notes about her performances.

Jane Seymour responded to fans. And to as many of them as possible, too!

Both of the Beheaded Cousins slept their time away.

Anna of Cleves did various things, such as meditate and listen to music.

Catherine of Aragon normally left the dressing room to find a quiet spot in the theatre’s backstage to pray.

This normal routine was going to be shaken up a little too much. So much that Boleyn and Howard were too tense to take their usual between show naps.

––––––––––

The same seat every damn time.

Who the hell was this guy?

And why was he now looking so bitter towards Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard?

Three weeks since the mystery man had first caught Boleyn’s eyes in the middle of a performance. But now it was a pattern. Two night shows and a matinee, and always on the exact same nights. Exact same seat, exact same everything. This was starting to piss Boleyn off, and scare Howard. He looked at them with more than just malicious intent in his eyes, to the point that Katherine sometimes blanked on her lines. It was to the point when Anne was singing, she’d put more emphasis on “Hold up, let me tell you how it went down.” just to spite him. This historian guy, or whoever he truly was, did not settle well with the cousins.

But on the night of a Sunday performance, the Queens all got a rude awakening they were not ready for. And the two to be given the first wave were none other than the Beheaded Cousins themselves:

Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard.

––––––––––

This tension was so chilling that it even caused Anne to fumble a few of her lines. Even the infamous “Yeah, I read.” was not the usual confident, snarky remark it usually was. Having made eye contact with the mystery man while trying to deliver the line was definitely part of it, and for a moment there was a stiff awkwardness in the air. They’d recover quickly, of course, but the general consensus between the group was that something was wrong, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

The man quickly left, before the end of bows, and somehow located an usher and told him he was an old friend of the girls’. The girls weren’t too akin to refusing to meet people, so immediately after stagedooring and meeting fans, they all headed backstage to meet whoever had requested a personal meet and greet. Kit’s the first through the door and she stops dead in her tracks. Those eyes. They were the same bright blue eyes that she saw in her dreams at night, the same eyes she stared into right before… well… 

She swallows, backing up a little. Anne comes crashing through the door, chaos embodied, and happily dances around for a moment before noticing the anxiety seething from Howard’s small frame. “What’s wrong, love?” Kit simply points to the man, and Anne’s heart drops to her stomach as well. She too, can’t look away from those crystal eyes. The blond hair. The everything. 

Anne can barely talk above a whisper could even tell it was him would make the situation less real. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe he was just another person. One can hope, but no luck there, Anne. She can feel Kit shaking, and reaches to take her hand, letting out a shaky breath and considering shouting for Parr. 

The others trickle in quickly after, the ‘mystery man’ still just staring at the two cousins with ferocious intensity. The last to enter, though, is Jane Seymour. The metaphorical mother of the group, the caretaker, any other synonym you can think of. Jane is never one to cast judgement. She walks in, and despite the obvious tension, says a polite hello to the man. He simply nods in response. 

Parr joins Anne at the hip, whispering to her. “Is he what’s got you all rattled, love?” Anne lets out a small nod. “It’s him.” 

That statement reaches Jane’s ears and immediately her demeanor changes. She stands up a little straighter, setting her microphone down on the dressing room’s main table, and just looks at him. She moves a little closer, pushing the other girls behind her, and she can only say one thing. 

“...Henry?”

He steps forward, and while the other girls move back, Jane stays planted to her spot. He smiles, trying to turn on the charm, reaching for her hands. “The one I truly lov—” He’s cut off by a slap. Yes, Jane Seymour just slapped a man. He brings a hand up to his red cheek, eye showing that it indeed, hurt. Cleves stifles a laugh.

“Don’t ever associate that word with me. You don’t know what love is.” A few tears well up in the blonde’s eyes, but refuses to let them fall. Not for him. “Love isn’t keeping your wife from holding her newborn child!” Her voice breaks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, centering herself. 

“You all look so different.” The scruffy voice chimes, and immediately Kit visibly tenses up. She, unlike Jane, is unable to hold the tears in. Though they flow silently, they flow heavily. “There’s no need to cry, Katherine… or should I say ‘Kitty’, now?” 

“Don’t speak to her. You do not have permission to do that.” Jane moves to block his view, but he simply repositions himself. Anne elects to go in for a dig. The devilish smirk returns, though small, and she gives Kit’s hand a squeeze before moving a tiny step forward. 

“You know, mate, if you’re still having trouble… you know, with your little friend, we can get you a prescription for Viagra. Or Cialis, plenty of options.” She emphasizes ‘little’ by using her thumb and pointer finger to indicate his size. It makes Kit smile a little. The silence in the air was broken by a stifled laughter. That had to be the funniest thing Cleves ever heard Boleyn say outside of the wit written in the script. Aragon gave her a nudge, but even she agreed with the sentiment.

The blond man, finally revealed as the reincarnated Henry VIII, just narrowed his eyes. “How funny, laughter coming from someone who couldn’t perform.” Anne’s smirk went away, as she looked back towards Cleves with a hurt expression. Cleves’ grin was gone, with gritted teeth behind a closed mouth replacing it. Aragon let out a sigh. “That’s low for the man who so easily says he believes–”

“Catalina, don’t even get me started on you either.”

Not a single comment from Catherine Parr. She just stood there, feeling herself drift between a rational mind and pure impulse. Did this guy just come back to insult them, and get a second wind to take Katherine? Oh no, that was not happening. She saw it all, too. Jane’s reddening face from holding back the tears, Cleves’ rather tame anger, Aragon’s scowl… Kit’s pale face from the fear, and Anne being powerless. Jane Seymour honestly, had lost her mind way before Catherine Parr did in this scenario, but… there was always going to be a breaking point for the quiet one.

“So you and your whore cousin think you can just slander my name like that? I’d have you both back at the scaffold in front of the Tower if I had–”

“Scaffolds don’t exist anymore, you twat,” Boleyn hissed under her breath. 

“Enough, Henry.”

This was where Parr had enough. The other Queens gave a glance at their surviving counterpart, who wasn’t even looking up at him. She was staring at the floor, but for now. “Cathy, you should probably not… y’know, say anything,” Boleyn barely managed to get that sentence out, considering the crushing feeling she had inside of her chest. All that got as a response was a laugh.

“The survivor, Catherine Parr. Tell me then, my love, are you just as stubborn as you were back then?” He got every other one to crack, but little did he know that he would be the one about to shatter like glass. “Because you should’ve been the one to meet an untimely fate like your counterparts here. Of course, new body means a second chance at being able to–”

Henry stops when he sees Parr’s shoulders shake a little. She’s… laughing?

That’s why she was looking down. When she did look up, one saw her smile shining on like a light. Safe to say, Catherine Parr was about to tear someone apart. “You’ve still got quite a loud mouth for an old man. Tell me, did you ever finally learn to take care of yourself, you bobolyne? Thinking you have any right to talk to the mother of not only your damned son, but also the woman who was loyal to you for twenty four years?! And even better, the one you so graciously called your sister after your marriage? You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

Jane felt a little insulted that she had to take a jab at Edward, but had the feeling it was necessary considering the situation. Hopefully Parr would apologize for it later on.

“Okay, okay… fair. Not bad, Parr. But why do those two get to wear shiny chokers while the rest of you have crowns? Does it further emphasize my point that Anne Boleyn’s just a hell of a tempting woman and that Katherine Howard–”

The smile from Parr’s face faded. The anger was present and everyone was mortified to see someone so quiet speaking up like she was. With vitriol in her voice, Catherine Parr officially lost her temper. 

“You KNOW exactly what the fuck happened, Henry.”

Aragon felt herself go to cover Katherine’s ears as her goddaughter began to lose her composure. “You KNOW why they have to wear those. You know damn well the crimes you fucking committed against them both, especially Katherine! She was a child, Henry! A fucking child who got manipulated and used! I want to hear nothing from your mouth, you snoutband! You have nothing to defend yourself with!”

Wiping a tear or two away, Jane Seymour began to lean into Anna of Cleves for some form of comfort. Even the German was surprised to be hearing the resentment coming out of such a powerful and rather cool-tempered woman. Just as Henry went to open his mouth, he stopped.

“Oh no, no sir! You have no right to talk here! Anne Boleyn lost her head over what, your delusions that she was out and about with men when you were just going around like you weren’t married? And because of that, she has to struggle to change her name? Are you actually insane or some shit?” The northern accent Parr had was thick. She was angry, and her voice said it for her if her facial expression did not. “Jane Seymour never got to hold Edward because you took him straight away for his christening. And she had to sit there, alone, in bed! Suffering through illness until she died without saying goodbye to her baby boy!”

Boleyn goes pale. Where did this anger even come from? She had no idea, but Parr was scaring her.

“My damn godmother was near a saint with all of the bullshit she had to put up with! Twenty four fucking years, and it wasn’t Anne who ruined the marriage. It was YOU. Aragon did some insanely remarkable things despite how you treated her! And Cleves! You just decide to take Cleves and humiliate her because she wasn’t beautiful enough for you? You’re an absolute wandought, Henry! You brought a Spanish lady and a German lady out of their comfort zones all because you didn’t know how to use your damn brain!”

At this point, Aragon had managed to sneak off into the dressing room, with Cleves now being the one to hold Howard. Boleyn was now hugging Seymour, actually terrified of not just Henry, but Parr.

Henry began to go pale. He was not going to recover from this.

“Who am I missing… let’s see, Katherine Howard? No, I got her. Anne Boleyn? Also got her. Jane Seymour? Check. Anna of Cleves? Check. Catherine of Aragon? Oh, yeah, her too. Would you look at that… I’m the only one left. Surprise surprise, the fucking survivor surviving again and this time, she gets to give it to you the exact way she wants to.”

“Cathy–”

“Shut up you lot. My turn to finally talk.”

A flinch from the group. Aragon had to take glances in and out of the dressing room.

“Oh wow, Catherine Parr. The survivor. The one who draws lines in arbitrary places, blah blah! She had two other husbands, what good could have she done being a Tudor queen? I DIDN’T TAKE ANY OF YOUR BULLSHIT IS WHAT I DID. Those books that everyone rumoured a woman was writing? Surprise, you tallowcatch! It was me! I’m the famed author of Tudor history. And I published under my own name once your pitiful body finally died. That can’t be that bad, Cathy. What a sad excuse for a sob story, right?”

Katherine Howard began to tremble more than she already was in Anna of Cleves’ arms. Catherine Parr made herself stand face to face with Henry.

“Ah, right, because she survived she deserves the backing vocals. WELL GUESS WHAT, HENRY? I’M HERE TO STAY. I HAD TO GIVE UP MY LIFE, MY LOVE, AND WHATEVER ELSE I WAS DOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR SORRY ASS. You might have forced these women into submission but no, I am not going to submit to some sad old man. You took away their rights, you took away their children… and poor Katherine…” A laugh. “You took poor Katherine’s childhood. You turned her into a disgraced whore. She is not and will never be one. She is a victim of your bullshit.”

“Catherine, my love–”

“No excuses now, Henry. I’m through. Your love ran cold years ago. And call me love one more damn time. See what happens.”

“My love–”

The weight of the sleeves helped Parr send her fist flying into his face. He stumbled back, feeling a warm sensation drip from his nose. Blood. He… was bleeding? “You actually got the nerve to punch an English King? You’re a mad woman, Parr. I’ll have you thrown on that scaffold just how–” A second punch, and this time, there was an audible crack of sorts.

“You wear a crown, but you’re no king. You’re a disgrace to human life, Henry. And this is for all of the women you hurt, manipulated, abused… and killed,” a lunge forward. The third strike was to his jaw, and the fourth was a solid kick to the chest with her heel being the first thing to make impact. Henry, having been taken by surprise from every hit, stumbled right back into a pair of men. Shaking her fist off, some of the blood ended up getting on the floor, and part of it remained on her hands. 

“I’ll be back, Catherine! Mark my damn words! Let go of me, you imbeciles!”

“Like hell you’ll be back!”

And just as she took a step forward, Aragon went to hold on to one of her arms. “Someone help me hold her back!” Aragon needed the help. Parr was under such a fit of rage she was dragging her godmother across the hallway. Seymour had to let go of Boleyn to try and hold on to Parr’s other arm. She slowed down, but still had enough adrenaline surging through her to keep going. Cleves just gave Howard a gentle kiss on the cheek before running over to help the other two ladies. No arms? No problem. She just held on to one of Parr’s legs.

Boleyn pulled her cousin into a tight hug, feeling a shaky exhale leave her body. “Kitty? Kitty, are you okay?” Just a nod. Howard was terrified to open her mouth after seeing the ungodly wrath unfold before her eyes. “I-Is… she mad at us, Annie?” Quiet and almost inaudible. The poor girl was terrified to even talk out of fear that Parr was not just angry at Henry, but at them too.

“Catherine Parr, what in God’s name has gotten into you?” Aragon furrows her eyebrows. “This is not you. What is going on? Talk to me, please.”

Anne reaches to take Kit’s hand. “She’s… upset. Not at us, I promise.” Anne had to admit, all of the ferocity coming from Parr scared her a little bit. The yelling reminded her a little of when Henry first stormed in and accused her. Of course, she would set it aside, but it was scary in the moment. She looks in Kit’s eyes, which are now full of tears, sighing and pulling her into another tight hug and rubbing her back. “It’s okay, babes… He’s gonna go away and we will be okay, I promise. The girls aren’t gonna let him get to us.” Kit just buries her face into Anne’s shoulder and lets out the remainder of what she wouldn’t let out in front of Henry. Thank goodness the men had taken him into another room until the police arrived. 

Anne pulls out of the hug for a moment and then walks Kit outside. “You look absolutely knackered, love… maybe we should head home as soon as all of this is over. Do you wanna change into something else? C’mon.” They both decide to change, but do so in the staff bathroom rather than in the dressing room. On the off chance Henry was able to see into the dressing room, they didn’t want him to see anything. Anne also thought a door with a lock was the safest. 

Once they finish hanging up their costumes, the two settle into the couch, and just hold each other. Anne hums a little of La Vie en Rose, and quickly, Kit falls asleep. Anne doesn’t mind. They were all done with the day, it had already put them through the ringer. 

There’s an apparent veil of exhaustion amongst all of the women, except Parr.

Sure, Henry had been apprehended at this point and he was stuck with his hands cuffed behind his back, but that didn’t stop him from being inches away from Parr’s face with a very devious smile. “I’ll be back, Catherine. And you six will have to deal with me all over again. Especially Kat–”

“Like hell you are!”

Catherine Parr broke her left arm free from Catherine of Aragon’s grip, and her right arm from Jane Seymour’s. The right hand took a vice-like grip on his shirt collar before her left fist came swinging at full power, and thensome since the weight of the costume added force. That impact had a very, very nasty sound to it. Even Cleves flinched at it, soon seeing the blond man fall straight to the floor with a bloody face. “Get anywhere near us and I will have you laying your head on a prison bench just how you made poor Katherine and Anne lay down as you murdered them!”

The officers picked up the unconscious Henry, and kindly thanked Jane, Anna, and Aragon for their cooperation. Parr however, got a warning, but that was about it.

Giving it a moment, knowing they would be out of earshot at this point, Parr releases a rather annoyed grumble. “He’ll fucking pay for his crimes against all of you. I swear on my life he will rot in a prison cell for what he did. If he thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and come back here to take us for fools, he’s wrong,” she almost hissed at the end. The thickness of her accent was making Aragon concerned, since to see someone as rational as her goddaughter be in such a state was a rare experience. Cleves and Seymour both looked up with mortified faces. Ever seen revenge personified as human? No? Now you have.

And her name was Catherine Parr.

“What in heaven was that?” Maggie asks, getting up and peeking out into the hallway. A small laugh. The thud was actually loud enough to wake the cousins, and they both get up, confused a little, and sleepily walk to join her at the door frame. Anne rubs her eyes and yawns, looking at Henry, now being pulled up by two police men. 

She glances to Parr, and then to Henry, and upon sight of Parr’s hands, she lets out a small, startled gasp. His blood was actually on her knuckles. Probably mixed with her own, if her knuckles had bust. Kit has a similar reaction, coupled with hiding behind Anne at the sight of the wicked man. “Cathy… let me help you get cleaned up. Mags, can you grab the first aid kit out of my backpack?” 

“Let’s just go home, first.” Parr says, a little cold, while watching an officer take Henry away. She wanted to watch up until he was inside of the car, so she could ensure he was going away for good. The other officer asks her a few questions about the situation, and she tells him everything that happened, down to the fact that they would be filing a restraining order, and that Henry was not allowed to see their show again. 

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The six women had gone home after waiting… maybe an extra ten minutes after Parr finished talking to the police officer. The car was dead silent on the ride back to the house, too.

“I’m actually mad about the fact that he’s actually attractive now,” Boleyn rolls her eyes as she walks in after Seymour. “I’m kidding, obvs. But how is he alive? We’ve been free for… who knows how long now and he comes back? What did he want, anyways?” Seymour turned to face Boleyn, giving the brunette a gentle pat on the head. “It sounded like revenge, but I think Cathy has the actual answer to that. We can talk to her when she’s a lot calmer, though… she’s very…”

“Upset, angry… name it, I am probably feeling it.”

“We all are, love…” Anne goes to her, gently taking her hands, looking at them carefully. One’s very busted up, and the blood has now dried and solidified. “Let me clean you up, c’mon.” She motions to the kitchen, and the two head in there, Parr sitting on the counter while Anne gets the first aid kit out. “I’m not ashamed of what I did today.” Parr stares at the floor, expecting some sort of lecture or argument to happen, but it doesn’t.

“You protected me. That’s all I could ever want.” Anne kisses her quickly on the cheek before pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a gauze cloth. Before she starts to press it to Cathy’s knuckles, she looks the girl straight in the eyes. “Don’t be mad for how much this is going to hurt, please.” 

While those two work on that, the other girls drop their bags next to the door and slump into the chairs around the kitchen table, an apparent awkwardness in the air. Jane is the first to speak, and it’s absolutely filled with regret and apology. “Ladies, I am so sorry I lost my cool today. I shouldn’t have gotten so ‘up in arms.’ He just… I never…” She’s tearing up a little, and Kit offers a hand for her to squeeze as she tries to work through her words. She takes a deep breath, brushing some of her blonde hair out of her face. 

“I never got to tell him all of that. All of the resentment.”

Cathy grumbles from the counter, agreeing with her statement. “He sure got a taste of all of my resentment.” Her cheeks were reddening, and Anne doesn’t know what else to do past wrapping the girl’s knuckles, so she lays a kiss on them, hoping that will calm her down. “Shhh… no need to get worked up over that toff, not again.” Her hand goes to hold Parr’s face. “Let’s be happy, okay?” 

“Jane, we all had every right to react the way we did. Even Cathy had a right to bash his ugly face in.” Kit nods reassuringly, and the other queens mumble words of agreement, Anne and Parr silently making their way over to the table. Something about Parr’s energy was off, but the queens wouldn’t question it for the time being. They were all rattled, it didn’t take much to see it. 

“I just feel that as the mother of the group, I reacted rather rashly. I think–” She has to hold back some tears. “I think I should’ve composed myself.” This ends with the ladies all essentially tackling Jane with a group hug, even Parr, though not really seeming to want to participate. It was getting late, anyways, and it was almost time for her to begin her nightly writing. It would help.  

Anne clears her throat. “I think you did perfectly, Jane. He’s an absolute tosser for thinking he could face all six of us at once.” Kit laughs in agreement, and the two head upstairs. Parr quickly dismisses herself, Aragon trailing quickly behind after giving Jane a tight hug. 

Cleves takes Jane’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Gute Nacht, Jane. Versuche nicht zu viel darüber nachzudenken.” Jane sighs. “Still don’t speak German, love.”

“Try not to think too much about it.”

“Catherine,” Aragon knocks on the open door, furrowing her eyebrows. “Mija, what got into you today? That isn’t you. Where… where did you even go?” A sharp look from the sixth wife to the first, before it softened up. It eventually became more of a look of shame as Parr’s eyes went to the bandaged hand. She really did do a number on herself, but that blond haired Tudor nightmare deserved it. She wasn’t wrong, was she? Or, had her morality become such an ambiguous grey area that maybe it was wrong for her to have sucker punched the man who beheaded Katherine Howard so unfairly.

The shameful eyes look up, seeing Aragon’s concern despite the slight scowl. “I’m sorry, Lina. I… no se. Yo lo vi y... Me congelé. Es como si todo el sentido racional dejara mi cuerpo y me quedara con impulso. Lo juro, no... siempre así. Tu lo sabes! Aunque asusté a todos, no?” The hurt in her voice was evident. Parr knew she became the morally ambiguous of the group, which was normally not the good thing. Aragon’s expression lightened up just a little as she approached her goddaughter, and pulled her into a side hug. “Sucede, amor. Pero no te enfades tanto con alguien tan horrible. Seguimos amándote, y siempre nos preocuparemos por ti. Ninguna de nosotras te tiene miedo, y eso te lo prometo.”

Those last words gave Catherine Parr just a little bit of hope. Catherine of Aragon gave one last hug to the woman before heading on out the door, but not without “Don’t stay up late.” being the last thing she said to the sixth wife. 

Kit and Anne stand in the hallway, chatting before going to their rooms, which were across from each other. “Lock your window, Annie, please.” It’s evident that Kit is still very worried about Henry figuring out where they live or figuring out how to get in. Anne nods, despite the fact that they lived on the second floor.. “Of course.” The girls hug and in a matter of seconds, they are both behind their respective closed doors. 

Kit leans against the door for a moment after closing it, but not locking it, and a few silent tears fall before she starts to change into her pajamas. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” She mumbles to herself, turning on her string lights and turning off the main light of the room. She debates what kind of music to listen to, mulling over it for a few minutes before turning on some classical. It was different, but it would work. 

Anne, on the other hand, immediately goes to lock her window and pull the shades closed, which was slightly saddening because she did enjoy looking at the night sky before she fell asleep. She sits on the edge of her bed for a moment, deep in thought about Cathy. She had to admit, the girl she saw today was one she had never seen before, and one she was pretty afraid of seeing again. That fire, while endearing… shook Anne a little. She has to force herself to shake off the thought that anger immediately translates to a person being anything remotely similar to Henry. 

“Right, then… bed it is.” Anne shuts off her lights and lays down, picturing that starry sky in her own mind. It would do. 

Jane settles in with the current book she was reading, a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A story of true love, one could say, and the text was actually helping to calm the blonde down about the events of the day. Aragon peeks in for a moment, and Jane gives her a soft smile, an unspoken agreement that they would be okay.

Though it seemed as if everyone was settling down, Catherine Parr had a storm bigger than a hurricane brewing inside. 

––––––––––

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Catherine Parr let that be the only sound to fill the silence. Normally, it would be music or something, but not tonight.

The calligraphy pen in her hands danced around her fingers, barely having touched the pages of the open notebook. Her vision was still blurred, much to her own surprise. Wrath was a powerful thing, and to have something take over the body for an amount of time would lead to consequences later in the night. In her case, it was a very horrid case of insomnia. While she dealt with insomnia most nights, she had the slightest feeling this was not the typical time to go to bed at 2 in the morning case. The pen began to slow down in her hand, and she held it still for the first time that whole night.

“It’s not the first time you write about how you feel, Cathy. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.”

It was not fine.

No matter how many times she told herself it would be fine, she could never believe it. Catherine Parr saw her hand shake, just the slightest, every time she wrote. Every memory from the last few hours was hazy, but simultaneously at the forefront of her mind. The usually clean lines of her penmanship were just the bit off from the feelings. Word after word, the anger began to flow onto the pages like water flowing down a river’s stream. So shaky, and so violent were the movements of Parr’s wrist. In comparison to the surprisingly smooth transition from thought to thought, her actions made her look a little crazed. One could even say she looked oddly desperate to finish writing.

Almost as if she was running out of time.

She was a writer in her past life. An author, really. The woman wrote books, psalms, meditations… name it, she probably has a manuscript of it somewhere. But this? This was not her. This frantic drive to write and write until the pages could take no more and the ink began to go through them was not Catherine Parr. In a way, it was almost symbolic. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

There it was again. The ticking of the clock.

Time was no longer a relevant thing for Parr. She just let the time go on.

Last she could remember, it was midnight. But nay, the clock spoke otherwise. A glance at it revealed it to be four in the morning. Her hand and wrist were cramped up, and the tears that she felt falling were drying on her face. The pages had become full of nonsensical phrases, mostly a result of the anger still in her system. But that anger began to fade from anger into a depression.

Why couldn’t she be stronger?

Why didn’t she do enough at the moment?

The pain finally struck her heart. Silence began to be her worst enemy, and something she thought she’d never do is what she did. Parr slams her hands on the desk, crying out, almost as if it were a scream or cry for help. The scream was enough to wake up Catherine of Aragon in an instant. A second and third one woke Jane Seymour and Anna of Cleves up. The fourth one got to Anne Boleyn. In a worried hurry, Aragon got out of bed and ran down the stairs to get to the door before almost ramming it down with her own body.

“Cathy? Mija, what’s the–… Cathy?”

What she saw was a torn woman in front of her. Her bandaged hand had a little blood seeping through the ends. Some of the curls were sticking to her face, and her eyes were all puffy and red. Aragon gently pulled Parr up and into a tight embrace. “Escúchame. Todo está bien, Cathy. Estamos en la casa.” Normally, Aragon had a commanding nature that gave off the feeling of someone being safeguarded behind a wall, but this was one of those moments she was willing to let her wall down. Parr’s grip tightened, with the tears coming back and rushing in like an ocean’s grey waves.

Catherine learned just a smidge of Spanish for her godmother. Enough to get by with a conversation or two, but she was not fluent in any way. “Duele, Lina,” a sniffle. “Todo esto duele y no hice lo suficiente para ayudar.” And there was something about her goddaughter using Spanish in such a defeated manner that made Aragon crack a little on the inside. Her own eyes were welling up with tears as she looked to the door.

Seymour, Cleves, and Boleyn.

All three of them with wide eyes and fairly concerned expressions. But it was Anne who saw the tears forming in Aragon’s eyes and threatening to spill. The two lock eyes and it takes everything in Anne to not crack too. She gives Aragon a look that says, ‘Let me try.’ Lina nods and gives Cathy’s hand a small squeeze, and Anne goes and kneels on the floor in front of her. 

The other three stand in the hallway, knowing it was probably best to give the two a moment. “Did that not wake Kitty?” Cleves pauses, and then points in the general direction of Howard’s room, loud classical music streaming through her closed door. 

Anne takes Parr’s hands. “Cathy, please talk to me… please, love.” It takes Parr a moment to look into Boleyn’s eyes, which are also filled with tears at this point. “It kills me to see you hurting.” A hand goes to wipe some tears from Parr’s cheeks. It lingers there, cupping her cheek, Anne’s thumb reflexively going back and forth to wipe more tears as they fall. 

“It kills me to see you hurting.” Her statement is coupled with a small voice crack, and not one that you would usually find endearing. This was out of pure sadness and anger. She sighs. “I should’ve done more.” She looks at the floor, past Boleyn, though her head is now resting on the girl’s hand. 

“He’s the one that deserves to be on a scaffold!” She starts to sob again, leaning forward, and Anne catches her, in a sense. Shaking with anger, she lets it out, nearly soaking Anne’s shirt in a matter of seconds. “He deserves to die! Why is he here?” Her breathing becomes slightly erratic, heaving breaths joining in with shallow sobs. 

The three in the hallway silently elect to let the two work through it. It really seemed as if Anne was the only one who was going to be able to get her to calm down, even if only a fraction. Aragon lingers for a moment, and then decides finally to go back to her room, leaving the door open in case anyone needed anything. Jane does the same, but reads for a few minutes before going back to sleep. 

Anne isn’t sure what to do, so she stands both of them up, having to support Parr a little, and just holds her, swaying back and forth slowly. “Shh… babe… he doesn’t deserve your tears…” Anne, you preach this, yet you’re a mess too. Albeit, a mess because Cathy is crying, but a mess nonetheless. “He… he’s getting his karma. He has to watch us thrive. And he can’t do a damned thing to us. We’re untouchable.” She was also telling herself this. 

Parr nods quietly, latching on to Anne even more, as if letting her go would mean she’d disappear into thin air. Though she hadn’t actually said it, she knew she loved Anne. More than anything, and if punching Henry in the face was what she had to do to protect her, she’d do it every day for the rest of her life. 

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” She speaks softly, voice scratchy as a result of the outburst. It was nearing five o’clock at this point, but it didn’t matter. With no hesitation, Anne replies with a simple “Of course,”  pulling away slightly to look Parr in the eyes. Those tired, red eyes, still wet with tears formed over a man who didn’t matter one bit. Not in this moment, he didn’t. 

The two make their way to Boleyn’s room, a twin bed being the only place for them, but it would be plenty of space. Anne lays down first, patting the small space next to her for Parr to join. It’s almost as if they’re out as soon as they cover up. 

Kit sleeps through all of this. Perhaps it’s the music blaring from her speakers, or the exhaustion from the events of the day, but it’s the first night the girl doesn’t wake up screaming. The other queens are really surprised to see her downstairs in the morning, looking well rested and pouring herself a cup of tea, seemingly fine. “G’morning.” She yawns, and the others just kind of look at each other as if reality has shifted. “Where are Cathy and Annie?” 

“In bed, still.” 

“Ja.” 

“I should check on them.” Kit says, setting her tea down. Cleves joins her, cringing a little when Kit knocks awfully loudly on the door and pushes it open. “Halt die Klappe, Kit…” Kit turns and looks at her, a puzzled look on her face. Cleves rolls her eyes jokingly, and then whispers again. “You’re too loud.” 

The sight upon opening the door is a combination of comedic and sweet. Parr is absolutely sprawled out on top of Anne, snoring loudly and taking up most of the bed. One of her hands is on Anne’s cheek, as if she had fallen asleep holding the girl’s face. Anne is awake, quietly scrolling through TikTok with headphones in. She looks at the two in the doorframe and smiles, looking down at Parr. ‘We’re okay.’ She mouths, and Jane and Aragon peek in, a small laugh coming from the Spanish queen. It warmed her heart to see the two all bundled up and Parr seemingly at peace, even if only for a moment. 

Parr makes a small noise and shifts, essentially pulling Anne closer and wrapping a leg around her. The ladies all smile, electing to leave the two alone. It was evident that everything would be okay, at least for now. Anne kisses Cathy on the forehead, letting out a happy sigh. Parr subconsciously replies with a small snore, and the two stay there, safe in each other's arms, for most of the day. 

A couple hours seem to pass and it’s about… noon, when Parr starts stirring. Anne notices this, and begins to smile. At least she was waking up. However, things were not going to go to plan, because in comparison to Anne, Catherine was a whole lot taller, and took up just a bit more space. Thinking for a moment she was still in her room, Parr went to try and roll to the other side of the bed, but immediately woke up at not having anything underneath her. A loud enough thudding noise got everyone’s attention.

The other four queens almost immediately ran to the doorframe, and Anne was sitting up.

In typical Boleyn fashion, she was laughing.

Parr on the other hand, was not very happy. “Ow…” Looking up, she just sees the green queen essentially laying back down because of the laughter, and a glance to the doorway reveals four others holding back laughter. “Oh haha, funny that Cathy Parr fell off a bed now is it?”

Through the laughter, Boleyn responds.

“It’s marvelous, love!”

[edwinjetpacktesting]

10 Mindless Pidgeons Sail Angrily

Untitled

[dreamcatcherfication]

Stuck Together

Hey guys, been a while. No, I’m not off my hiatus, but I’m still here, and hopefully I’ll be back to updating soon! I’ve been feeling pretty off lately, and writing just brings up a lot of negative emotions right now, so I’m trying to avoid it in certain places. But I wrote this short drabble for a writing class, and I thought I’d share it with you all. Nothing big, just a cute little reminder that I’m here and I’ve still got stuff to share! (This story is set during quarantine, as implied by the title).

Writing Masterpost

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

“You know, we’ve been living with each other for over a year now, and it’s only been during quarantine when you’ve suddenly become incapable of doing the dishes,” Jane complained. She stood in the kitchen of the small flat she shared with the other queens, staring at Anne. “Nothing has changed, except maybe that you have more time to get things done.”

Anne was sat on the couch, clad in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, her feet resting on the coffee table as she watched television. “Yeah, more time to be lazy. Can you toss me the bag of chocolates? Kat got them for me and I’ve been dying to eat them.”

Jane raised an eyebrow at Anne. “They’re halfway across the room, you can get up and get them yourself.”

Groaning, Anne snuggled further into the couch cushions. “But you’re closer to it.”

Sighing, Jane walked across the room and picked up the chocolates. Anne extended her arms in a childlike manner, making grabby hands. “Thank you!” Instead of giving Anne the chocolates, Jane opened the bag and popped one into her mouth, making an over-exaggerated sound at the taste.

“Oh, that’s good! Kat’s got great taste,” Jane played with Anne.

Shooting off the couch and over to Jane, Anne slapped her arm, “Hey?! Those were meant for me.”

“And there’s still plenty left,” Jane assured her, handing the bag over. “And now you’re off the couch, so why don’t you do the dishes?”

Popping a chocolate in her mouth, Anne shook her head. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you’re here right now and we have to contribute to our respective chores in order to keep the house functioning.”

Anne didn’t seem convinced, but she gave in anyway. Setting down the bag of chocolates, she put her hands in a pair of gloves and turned on the faucet. “You better get me another bag of chocolates for this.”

“Only if you promise to stop eating ice cream for breakfast,” Jane bargained.

“Ice cream is part of a balanced breakfast.”

“It’s really not.”

“Says who?”

“Me and literally every dentist and nutritionist on the planet.”

Rolling her eyes, Anne focused on the dishes. “But you will get me chocolates, right?”

Jane smiled, and tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter. “You’ll have to finish Kat’s first.”

Scoffing, Anne asked, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Why not both?” Jane pulled another chocolate out of the bag and scurried away from Anne and out of the room.

Shouting over the running water, Anne called, “Hey! Stop stealing my food!”

“You can’t stop me!”

Chuckling, Anne shook her head and went back to washing dishes. Oh, she missed spending time with cheeky Jane.

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

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thenicestnonbinary @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom @frogs-in-clogs @timetoriseabove @moonlit-inconsistent-art

[excaliefur]

Anne’s Deathday. Part 1

Heyyy, yeah so I’m going to start uploading fics again. no promises but I aim to get another chapter of Lets just talk up soon. I didn’t intend for this to be multi chaptered but it happened. Sorry for uploading this late, I struggle with deadlines. This has no ship as far as I know? This is going to be a mix of angst and other stuff I guess. Sorry if it’s inaccurate, I’m a teenager, not a historian. Anyways have a good day!

TW: Swearing, will add more as the story progresses, tell me if I need to add more. 

Words: 1205

_______________________________________________________________________

Anne sighed. Only a few more hours. Then it would officially be the day. 19.05.2020. Her death day. It was 21:23, and Anne was staring at her clock. 

Tick Tock. Anne was pissed. She wanted it to be midnight already, then she could try and sleep the whole day away. She had played every game on her switch, she watched every conspiracy theory video on youtube, she had done everything and now she was bored. 

She could hear Kats quiet snoring from the room next to hers, she could hear Cathy’s quiet typing from the other room next to hers, and she could hear Catherines quiet voice, speaking on her phone to someone. It made her smile. The normalcy of it, specifically, made her smile. It was just so normal. She could go to sleep and not worry about waking up somewhere else, or waking up with an arrest warrant, she could be safe, and she knew this life was secure. This life was amazing. 

Tick Tock. The ticking noise reminded her why she was awake. Anne groaned and flopped onto her bed. ‘Ughhh.’ she mumbled into her pillow. Maybe staying up wasn’t her best idea. Anne only wanted to get tired enough to sleep through the day without nightmares. The past few death days were so painful with flashbacks, she really didn’t want to go through that again. 

Tick Tock. that noise. It was taunting her. She yelled into her pillow and threw it across her room. It fell with a soft thud, and Anne felt annoyed. Now she had to walk all the way across the room to pick it up again. Before she got up, there was a quiet knock on her door. ‘Yeah?’ she asked, too tired to get up. Anne looked up to see who opened the door. It was Jane, holding 2 mugs of tea. ‘Can I sit?’ Jane asked, Anne loved that everyone there respected boundaries, but sometimes it was too much. It was her room, not like a time bomb. Anne shrugged and sat up, opposite Jane. Jane placed the mugs onto Anne’s desk as she sat on the chair. 

They sat in silence for a minute, before Jane passed Anne one of the mugs. Anne grabbed, it reveling in the warmth. Jane waited for Anne to drink before speaking.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ She asked, gently. Anne shrugged, taking another sip of her tea. ‘That's fine,’ Jane said, her voice was very calming. Anne took another sip, just to avoid talking. ‘Do you want to stay in my room tonight?’ Jane pressed. Anne looked into Jane’s eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary there, kindness, empathy, a little bit of sadness. Anne didn’t feel too bad yet. She shook her head. ‘Not now.’ Jane nodded, understandingly. 

‘If you want to, my door will always be open.’ She said. Standing up and kissing Anne on her forehead. She stood straighter and exited the room. Anne smiled. It was reassuring to know that people cared. She took a few more sips of her tea and set it down. She certainly felt better, but it made her more tired. Anne sighed. ‘Fuuuuuuuu-’ she was interrupted by another knock on her door and someone strode in. It was Anna. ‘Hey Anna.’ Anne sighed gesturing to the seat opposite her.

‘Hey bo. Just wanted to check on you before I sleep.’ Anna said, wasting no time. 

‘I’m fine.’ Anne replied, she didn’t mean to be so guarded but it happened. ‘Yeah i can tell.’ Anna replied, dropping into the seat. ‘No, I’m serious, I’m fine.’ Anne said, annoyed. Anna shook her head, her face becoming serious. ‘Alright, i'm here for you though, bo.’ Anna reminded her, talks like these were not her specialty. She generally let Jane help someone first, and when they need a break, they could go to Anna. Anna went to exit the room, but paused at the door. ‘I think Catherine’s asleep, so she won’t come down, and Jane and Kat are talking, so unless Cathy forgets, she’s the last you’ll see tonight.’ Anna informed, knowing that Anne wouldn’t be comfortable until she knew where everyone was. Anne nodded gratefully, and smiled as Anna exited. 

Tick Tock. That damn ticking. Anne was ready to throw the clock out of the window. She got up and grabbed her laptop, opening up netflix, getting ready to binge watch some series she’s seen a million times. It was 23:30. Wow time moves fast. She scrolled through stuff shes seen and sighed, nothing was interesting. She played a random episode of a random series and grabbed her phone to scroll through tumblr. 

Tick tock. It felt like a blur, she had gone through maybe 13 episodes and she was getting bored. 

Tick tock. That stupid clock. 

Tick tock. Another 2 episodes. 

Tick tock. It was 02:45. 

Tick Tock. it was the day. 

Tick Tock. The day Anne hated almost as much as she hated henry. 

Tick Tock. the day that henry finally got rid of her. 

Tick tock. The day she got her scar. 

Tick Tock. The day Anne lost the chance of seeing Elizabeth grow up. 

Tick Tock. The day Elizabeth lost her mother. 

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tic- and then there was silence. 

Anne groaned and rubbed her head. It was pitch black. Where was she? Her head hurt like hell. She glanced around. It didn’t seem familiar. ‘-nne! Anne! Anne!’ came a voice, ringing in her head. It was like an alarm. Something was happening. Anne stood up, looking around for any indication of escape. Was she kidnapped? What was happening. 

Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she realised she was in a room. It had no windows, a chair, and a small door to her right. Anne reached for the handle, and tried to open the door. It shook, but didn’t budge. With a frustrated groan, she sat onto the chair. She rubbed her temple. What happened? That's when she heard it, a soft whimper. ‘Hello?’ She asked, blindly moving towards where it came from. Anne squinted, and saw the outline of a child, huddling in a corner. It seemed oddly familiar. ‘Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Can you move closer to me?’ Anne whispered, hoping to calm the child. 

The child moved away from the corner, slightly stepping closer. Anne gasped. She knew that child.

_______________________________________________________________________

Yeah, hi!. Does that count as a cliffhanger? I don’t know. 

Taglist Let me know if you want to be added or removed from it.

@mindless-pidgeon

@everything-insanity

@i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six

Stay safe folks.

[boleyn-falcon]

The Queens of The Castle  Chapter 4

THE TIME HAS COME - IT HAS BEEN UPDATED!!!

im soooooo sorry this took like a month(i actually had half of this chapter written already) ill try and keep on it now since this up coming week is my last week of school! 

And if you got tagged, theres a chance you prolly even forgot about this fic by now... hehe whoops and if you've just been added to my general fic taglist, welcome to the shit show! imma link the last few chapters so you can catch up!

[im also sorry for the last chapters, they where my first fics and i didnt grammer or spell check them so be careful of that, i have grammerly now so its a lot better]

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 

‘The queens make it to the resort and get ready for the park!’

Word-count - 1256

TW - None! (other than an unholy amount of fluff)

The group made their way up to the fifth floor to find their two rooms, three queens per room. “Here they are!” Jane exclaimed unlocking the door with a grey band on her wrist and opened the door to the first room. The room had one queen-sized bed and a bunk bed. “ Me, Kitty, and Anne will take this room since I bet they want the bunk beds” The beheaded cousins ran into the room already claiming bunks. “I call the top bunk!”, “C’mon Annie!”, Jane and Cathy let out a small chuckle watching the previous queens of England fight over who gets the top bunk.      The blonde walks over to the next room over and opens the door to find two queen-sized beds, “I don’t care what you lot say I’m getting a bed to myself”, Anna stated as she set her stuff by the bed closest to the door. “Well I guess that just leaves you and me mi hija, I hope you don't kick”, the older Spanish queen says with a laugh. After a few minutes of adjusting and setting up all of their belongings, they start to settle in. In the first room Anne and Kat are already buzzing with excitement and a bit of impatience. To waste some time while the others get ready, Kat skips over to the balcony next to Jane’s bed and walks outside. The young queen is in awe as she looks over to see a beautiful grass field with amazing savannah trees. She stares for a few minutes longer, she starts to turn to go back into the room but something catches the corner of her eye. She turns back to see two majestic giraffes walking too one of the trees right in front of their room. Right as Kat is about to call in her cousin, she sees a small baby giraffe run with its long lanky legs to catch up with the other giraffes, it’s family.         “Annie! Jane! Come out here and see this!”, they open the door to reveal Kat with one of the biggest smiles they have ever seen on her face.  They both walk forward to see what their friend was yelling about and see the small family of giraffes eating from the tree.  “Oh Kitty, that's amazing! They are so beautiful!”, the motherly queen says giving the pink-haired girl a soft smile and a hug. Anne, with a large smile on her face, takes out her phone to take a picture of this moment so they can always have it. The picture had Anne holding the phone while smiling, Jane hugging Kat, and the giraffe family in the background clearly in view.        After a few more minutes of gawking at the animals, all six walk into the lobby, ready to take on the first park. There is when an issue arrived, they didn't know what park to go to for the first day. On one hand Magic kingdom was the main park, but it was also very overwhelming since there was so much.  They finally just gave up and decided to pick Magic Kingdom since they couldn't decide and only do some of the park today and the rest another day.     “Okay girls first we need to figure out how to get there since we have no car, I’ve heard that there are buses that can take us there”, Cathrine then pulled out her phone to find bus times and what stops the buses make. Cathy was way too distracted by the little wristbands Jane had all given them. Each queen’s band had a little Mickey head on them and they had all of their corresponding colors. Cathrine had yellow, Anne had green, Jane had grey, Anna had red, Kitty had pink and finally Cathy had blue. Jane had used hers to unlock their room doors and she vaguely remembers her explaining that they always need them on. The blue-clad queen was always marveled at the new technology of the 21st century, from street lights to iPhones, it was all so fascinating. When hearing about the resort that they would be spending their week at, it only ignited a flame in her mind of what all she could see. Cathy shooed these ‘nerdy’ thoughts, trying to just focus on waiting for any new information her godmother may provide about their means of travel.          “Okay loves! Our bus will be here in around five minutes so let's hurry up and get down there”, Cathrine leads the queens out the door of the lobby and to the line of people waiting to get on the next bus. The bus arrives and they all pile in, ready to see what lies ahead of them.        After a just few minutes of a slightly loud bus ride, Kat was already starting to get antsy in her seat. There’s so much she wants to see, all of the rides, new foods, a new culture even, it was making her mind race. The youngest queen was surely excited, but also scared, this was all so new and foreign. Just the bus ride alone overloaded her senses, the people were very talkative and honestly, kinda loud. She takes out her earbuds from the small maroon drawstring she had brought with her and began to listen to some calming orchestral music. The girl leans her head on the window of her seat and watches the myriad of large trees that scattered the land with a mix of purple road signs. Kathrine’s attention was grabbed as she felt an arm around her shoulder, she was immediately startled and panicked, she turns her head to only see Anna’s warm smile. She calms down almost instantly and removes her earbuds, “Oh hey Anna! What’s up?”. The German woman shifted slightly and gave a kind look to her younger friend, “Well I know when its loud like this is works you up a tad so I thought i might come over and just kinda be here for you”. Kat gave a huge smile and hugged the red queen in appreciation and they began to make small talk to calm the pink girl’s nerves.        Meanwhile, Cathrine and Jane chatted away at what to do first at the park, they knew Anne and Cathy liked having a schedule so they wanted to make sure they knew what they were doing.  The golden queen pulled up a map of the park and began to start making plans, “Okay so it looks like after we get to the front of this castle here it makes somewhat of a circle, I say we start at a place called ‘Adventure Land’ and make out way around to ‘Tomorrow Land’”. The blonde looked over her friend’s shoulder at her phone and smiled, “That seems like a rather nice plan Cathrine, it looks like they designed it so you’re going from the past to the future, kinda like we did in a way”. The Spaniard laughed and thought about the last comment her friend made, she was right after all and made her plan even better.         The bus came to a stop and they exited to find they weren’t at a park, but looked to be some kind of transport center. Their suspicions were confirmed when Jane read allowed the nearest sign “Ticket and transportation center, hm well this doesn’t seem like the Magic Kingdom”, she looked the sign over to see pictures of train-like vehicles with arrows. Anna approaches the purple sign then turns to her fellow queens, “Well Shit”.

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Taglist - @mindless-pidgeon   @prisky0731  @patdfobmcr-yt  @whenallthestarscollide  @ashkibagi-ziibiing @homosixual-dumbass    just tell me if you wanna be taken off or added!

[it-takes-acquired-minds]

We couldn’t save Brandon. We can save Dustin.

Brandon Bernard is dead. He was one of 13 scheduled to be killed before January 21st. All of you went above and beyond to save his life, and I am so sorry, but we were too late. He didn’t deserve to die. We could not save Brandon, hard as we tried. But that does not mean we can’t save Dustin. 

Dustin John Higgs was accused of killing 3 women and found not guilty. All witnesses, including the murderer, have declared his innocence. And still, they are going to have him killed. His execution date is January 15th. We have a month. I pray that we can stop this before it’s too late. 

I’m tagging everyone I tagged when I asked for your help with Brandon Bernard. All of you listened, all of you helped, and I’m begging you to do this again. We can’t have another martyr at the hands of Donald Trump. Not when we’re so close. Tag all your followers. Reblog. Sign the petition. Do whatever you can do share this and save Dustin’s life. Please. 

https://www.change.org/p/donald-j-trump-to-get-dustin-john-higgs-off-death-row/psf/promote_or_share

@theatergirl06 @mindless-pidgeon @silverpetals97 @arrowfromorion @acetheism @fortunatelyhelpmates @sweetestrequiems @anime-nerd05 @sixqueendom @thinkaboutitmaybe @ultimatebottom69 @frnkieroismydaddy @ice-angels @bibibeebo @mus1caltrash @im-unshakebale @imhereletscheer @ryos-bloody-coat @homosixual-dumbass @jessi-khoward-a3 @withrainbowsprinkles @mayprilayunely @mintchocchip-icecream @sleepy-water-babie @frogs-in-clogs @pinkberry-bmc @sixqueensinakingsizedbed @thefreakinghamiltonpotatoaddict @pinkys-plan @totalfreakhere @doctor-who-gay @elle-is-going-to-hell @thenamesreader @excaliefur @thathoughtfulwriterturtle19 @mt-nside @woafofbread @dearevanhamilton6 @all-you-wanna-do-your-best @icewasab @cassi-o-pei-a @rennikothecatdog @pokeyanimates2 @angrysaladcopeagle @burrito-puppy @poorlilanxiousbaby @oscar-schnee @verybittermuchsweeter @bumblebeesenpai @touchmyhorror @grippiaaa @sixfragiledreams @letalloursingingfollowhim @myusernameisstolen @minxverse @madhatterteaparty @cicadiabroth @panicatthelafayette @killjoyjay @gone-tomorrow-herefornow @red-rum-mondays @jay-aq44 @friggebod @much-brighter-ink @p1xelplan3ts @qksbsod @tragicallyhillarious @im-a-dragon-cawcaw @dead-kitcat @anythingbutwallflower @spurion @riley-is-a-wallflower @hopelessloserkid @wattismylife @sapphic-theatre-fan @iinkdumpling @captain-hero-and-tiger @one-time-i-jumped-off-a-cliff @letsgoravendors @bi-and-bye @multifandom-wreck @astrobookwormsinger @i-like-musicals-and-draw-abit @remielincoln @yestheironicirony @that0n3teen @definitely-a-living-human

And if you aren’t tagged, I’m imploring you to share this anyway. I won’t guilt you into signing, or reblogging, or shame if you if you don’t. You aren’t obliged to do anything. But if you can, please, please, please do this. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to keep an innocent man from dying. I really hope that you are too.