#i love motherly bessie

[saturnxlust]

Age Gap

Van der linde gang x Fem!Reader

Dutch Van Der Linde

He def goes for younger girls

He looks like the type

You caught his eye with your outfits

Hes 44 but i feel like he wouldnt want a age gap over 10 years

If you got the courage to make the first move he would admire that about you

Definitely sweet talks you about being a smart girl

Lord the amount of praise this son of a bitch would give you could boost even arthur ego

Def a sugar daddy, before the events of black water

After he would try his best but he left most of his money behind in his old house

Arthur Morgan

He isnt that old but he def wouldnt go over 5 years

He finds it odd and repects his women too much

This is the man to go to if you want a sugar daddy

He will gladly spoil you with all the money he loots from dead O’driscols

He also gives out praise but thats just the man he is

If hes not complimenting you and how stunning you are 24/7 he feels like a awful person

He would so totally call you his “sweet baby” or “babydoll”

If you wear pink dresses he’d definitely be wrapped around your little finger

If not and your more of a streatwear person he’d loose his mind at low rise or cami tops

Again you’d have him wrapped around your finger immediately

John Marston

Hes definitely not old and would NOT go under 4 years😭

This guys only 26

Hes not a sugar daddy

Sorry babe

But he thinks your cute

He def likes girls with a attitude

Just look at abigal for christs sake

He was married to her😭

He would try to be good for you

Wanting to take you and run off into the sunset, but he couldnt leave dutch like that

Not after everything dutch had done for him

You would have to get along with jack to even be on johns radar (sorry🥲)

He wants you as soon as your motherly to jack

He talks to arthur about you

He calls you “sweet girl” and “doll” in that gravily voice

Hes incredible, really

Hosea Matthews

Okay well hes old😅

Def a sugar daddy

I mean have you seen him?

He goes for at least 10-12 years younger 😍

After bessie he really didnt think he’d fall in love again but when you came in twirling you hair and giggling he’d be a teenager all over again

You could ask him to shoot the man next to him for no reason and he’d do it

Hes quite literally wrapped around your finger

I say that because he would not leave you alone

Constantly holding you and treating you to gifts and fancy things

He once bought you a diamond necklace in saint denis

Whether you protested or not is up to you

He doesnt let you out of his sight and will not stop rambling to dutch about you

Dutch is too tired and crazy to deal with hosea and sends him your way to obsess over you😊

Sean MacGuire

The belief is hes mid 20’s so im gonna say 25

He definitely is like john and goes for 3 years younger

But i see him as the type to like older women cough cough mary cough

He likes the contrast of him being a stupid asshole and you being a sweet little thing

He trys his best with money but like john has very little so if he buys you something its usually something small

Though he never really feels accomplished after he gets you something small

So he saves for a long time and buys you something a little bigger like a silver necklace or a nice bracelet

His accent gets in the way of things sometimes but he will call you “sweet thing” though it sounds more like “sweet ting”😭

Love him though

Javier Escuella

Another baby of the gang🫶🫶

Hes 26 so he goes for the same range as john

He also doesnt have much money and buys you small things

But he makes it up by calling you endearing nick names

“Mi amor” “dulce nina” “Querida”

You get the point

“Ojalá pudiera comprarte más mi amor pero debes saber que esto es de mi corazón”

I love him sm

He would sugar daddy you if he could

Probably gets upset when he cant buy you things

If your family is rich he refuses your offers of giving him money

It doesnt feel right to have a sweet girl like you give him money when he should be the one providing

It gets him upset to see you want something he knows he cant afford

Has lowkey thought about robbing a very rich man cough cough braithwates cough to buy you things

When on the boat if you go with them he keeps an eye on you

Not liking the scene already, older predatory men being all around you made him extremely uncomfortable

He doesnt want to tell you what to do he always wants it to be your choice but it scares him that he cant really do anything to protect you

Though if it was dire enough he woukd throw the whole plan down the drain to cut open a older guy that got too power hungry and grabbed you

“No te lastimó, ¿verdad, querida?.”

Charles Smith

Hes not as young but doesnt go for under 5 years

Hes got some money to buy small things every now and again

He calls you “baby” and “little girl” alot no matter the age gap

It could only be a few months and he still would💔

He shows you how to hunt and stuff as bonding

He sees killing a deer together and bringing it back to pearson as romantic

But he still takes you on dates

When he can

Hes usually on watch duty as he is literally a unit of a man

This kid is huge

Around 6’6 and 240 pounds

Dwarfs even the biggest of guys, yes even arthur😭

Josiah Trelawny

Trelawny the man you are😍

Hes definitely rich

He has a house with his wife in saint denis

He is quite old so I imagine no more then 10 years difference

He calls you “darling” and “sweet girl” in that trans Atlantic accent

He definitely spoils you rotten

Only the best for his sweet girl

He takes a lot of time to take care of you as well

He doesnt spend time with the gang and only pops up when they need him for things like stealing from rich people

He never lets you pay

Are you kidding

He’d rather die then have you pay for something

Thats a little dramatic but i know he would never feel good about himself ever again if he got to a point where you had to pay

Like what do you mean he doesnt have enough money

No no darling put yours away papa trelawny will have a sweet little chat with the man trying to embarrass him infront of his woman

“YES I HAVE ENOUGH MONEY ARE YOU INSANE, no dear its okay you dont need to pay. BACK TO YOU DONT YOU EVER-“

Obviously there are ones i didnt put in here like micah, pearson, uncle, lenny ect. I dont know enough about them nor do i like most of them (except for lenny i love him sm)

[yourdeepestfathoms]

I‘ll Be Met by Moonlight

yall are really out here sleeping on Mom Friend Bessie huh

TW: Vomiting (there’s quite a bit, so don’t read if you can’t handle it)

———————

Bessie awoke to the sound of crying. Loud crying.

Instantly, she hurtled herself out of bed, put on her slippers, and loped out into the hallway, natural maternal worry practically giving her wings.

Maggie was peeking out of her bedroom, staring at the staircase leading downstairs. Maria probably would have been down there already if she weren’t staying with the queens.

That meant it was Joan. Joan was crying.

   “She’s been like this for half an hour,” Maggie whispered when she noticed Bessie. “I-I should have done something... I’m sorry.”

   “Don’t be sorry. I understand.” Bessie assured her. Maggie was never one to comfort people, nor did she really know how without making things worse, so Bessie thought her just standing there was perfectly reasonable. “Go back to sleep, love. I’m going to go check on her.”

Maggie nodded and then slipped back into her room while Bessie made her way down the stairs and to the bedroom.

Joan was sitting on the edge of her bed, rocking back and forth slowly. From the faint glow of the nightlight, Bessie could see her shoulders violently shaking with the intensity of her sobs.

  “Joan?” Bessie called out, not wanting to startle the keyboardist. Still, Joan’s head jerked up.

  “J-Jane?” She called out weakly.

Oh.

  “No, love, it’s Bessie.” Bessie corrected while walking over slowly. She sat down beside Joan and set a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Joan shook her head, sucking in another quivering breath. That quickly turned into a coughing fit and Bessie thumped her lightly on the back to help her along.

  “Easy, love, easy,” Bessie murmured, “You’re okay. I got you.”

  “B-Bessie?” Joan whispers.

  “That’s right. That’s me, hun. It’s Bessie.”

It was too dark to tell if it was really her. Too dark, too dark, too dark-

Joan never liked the dark, even before she got snared in the forest. It was a dark a lot in the 16th century. There weren’t any nightlights, just candles and maybe lanterns, but it wasn’t advised to keep either of those lit overnight (Joan would know. she still remembers the acrid odor and her mother and father yelling). So, usually, she cowered under her blankets with her eyes screwed shut. Unless her brother let her sleep with her, she usually stayed up until the first hint of the sun came out, then she finally deemed it safe to rest.

Insomnia for her was long-running, too.

The keyboardist whimpered sharply and then collapsed into Bessie’s arms.

The scent of the hair she buried her nose into wasn’t Jane’s. Jane smelled like lavender and sugar cookies, not a roasting fire. Not that the other smell was bad. It confirmed that it was, in fact, not her queen she was clinging to.

  “You’re alright,” Bessie murmured in her ear, her smooth, velvety accent tickling the baby hairs on the back of Joan’s neck. “You’re alright now, honey. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Bessie is caring, like Jane, but she has an aura her that makes Joan feel protected. Like being guarded by a defensive mother bear.

  “Do you think you can breathe with me? In and out. Just like me.”

One is rubbing up and down Joan’s spine in soothing strokes, while the other comes around to hold her head against the bassist’s chest. She feels the rise and fall of Bessie’s lungs contracting, hears the steady beating of her heart, and it calms her slightly. She takes in a breath of her own.

  “There you go.” Bessie’s smile is sweet, nurturing, supportive. “That’s so good, sweetie. Can you do it again?”

Joan obeys and, slowly but surely, her breathing isn’t as ragged or rapid. She pulled away slowly and Bessie thumbs away a stray tear falling down her cheek.

  “I...” Joan starts, but her voice is a brittle rasp, and it hurts to speak. Bessie shushes her.

  “Joan, honey, if you’re about to apologize, then I gotta ask you to stop right there,” Bessie said, “Everyone in this house has nightmares. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Joan nodded a little and she feels Bessie’s thumb stroke back and forth against her cheekbone.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” The bassist asked.

Joan shrugged shyly.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Bessie added.

  “Jane was dying,” Joan whispers, “A-and she kept screaming and crying in agony. She was in so much pain and I just stood there. I didn’t help her at all.” She sniffled and fresh tears fall down onto the hand caressing her cheek, “Then th-this thing ripped out of her stomach and-and-and-”

Nausea bubbles inside of Joan, curling up her throat and into her mouth. She couldn’t swallow it down.

Joan throws up all over herself.

Bessie is moving immediately. Not to get away, but to switch sides so she’s directly behind the heaving girl. It was too late to grab the trashcan in the room, so, instead, she pulls her hair out of the way. Some of the blonde locks were wet with bile, but Bessie didn’t let it phase her if she even noticed.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Bessie murmured when she heard the high-pitched noises of pain Joan was making in between coughs.

Joan was absolutely mortified. She was paralyzed when her stomach finally stopped ejecting itself, frozen in humiliation and terror. More tears spilled free and she sobbed.

  “I’m- I’m sorry- Oh god, Bessie, I’m so sorry-” She struggled to speak and nearly threw up again.

  “Shh, shh,” Bessie soothed, rubbing circles against the girl’s back, which was clammy with sweat, “You’re alright, darling. This isn’t your fault.”

  “But-”

  “Hush,” Bessie said, “You were scared, Joan. I don’t blame you for being sick if that’s what you had seen.”

Joan slowly turns her head to look at Bessie. Even when there were trails of vomit dribbling down either sides of her mouth, the bassist still smiles so gently at her. She would have crumpled into her arms if she weren’t covered in a substance she definitely didn’t want to get on the woman.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright? Can you stand?”

Bessie gets off the bed first, taking one of Joan’s hands in her own. She lets the girl try to get up by herself, but it’s obvious she’s struggling, so Bessie steps in and helps her to her feet. She feels Joan cringe when the pool of throw up that had been congealing in her lap spilled down her legs and to her floor.

  “Shh,” Bessie hushes when she heard a sharp whimper, “It’s not your fault, darling. Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s go get you in the shower.”

Although she didn’t like leaving the shaken up, ill girl by herself, Bessie understood why Joan didn’t want her in the bathroom while she was bathing. While she waited for the keyboardist, she busied herself by cleaning up the mess left behind.

Being a lady in waiting to half of the queens, especially one that was pregnant several times and had her fair share of morning sickness, Bessie was quite used to vomit. It didn’t bother her anymore. The smell, the sound, the sight- none of it phased her. She could eat a whole feast while someone was emptying their stomachs in front of her and be just fine.

And yet she was afraid of heights of all things.

Oh well. At least she wasn’t scared of moths like Maria was.

It’s been almost forty-five minutes since the shower turned off. Bessie wanted to give Joan space, but she was starting to worry.

  “Joan?” Bessie called out.

No answer.

  “Joan, sweetie, are you okay in there?”

Nothing.

  “Joan, I’m coming in.”

Inside, Joan was on her hands and knees, panting heavily, clutching fistfuls of the shaggy shower carpet. The shirt she was supposed to change into was discarded on the floor, but she does have the shorts on. Without a top, her milky-yellow, sweat-soaked flesh is revealed to Bessie.

And the angry red scar that encircled her torso.

The keyboardist didn’t look to be comfortable in the slightest, as her muscles were contracting violently and her bra strap appeared to be digging into taut her skin. Not that she had the energy to wrestle with the clasp right now, though. One hand lifts to hold her aching middle.

  “Oh, Joan...”

Bessie saw the girl’s entire body tense up. Joan is trying not to move but she’s trembling too badly. Bessie quickly retrieves a clean blanket before stepping fully into the bathroom. She wraps the soft blanket around Joan, who seemed grateful, but couldn’t show it.

  “This just isn’t your night, huh, sweetheart?” Bessie asked while situating herself beside the keyboardist. She takes to threading her fingers through Joan’s hair, since she knew she liked that.

Joan makes a tiny noise. She lifts her head and shudders. A painful cramp seized her stomach with talons of fire and her response to it was by slamming her forehead into the toilet seat. Bessie’s heart clenched a little when she realized she was probably trying to knock herself out.

...Did she really hurt that much? Was the nightmare that bad?

  “Darling, don’t do that,” Bessie chided softly, slipping her hand down to lift Joan’s head up. The answer she got was an incoherent mumble that morphed into a tight whimper.

  “B-Bess-”

  “It’s alright. Just get it out of your system. I’m going to go get-”

Joan grabbed Bessie’s by the wrist, holding on with a death grip. She didn’t look up at her, too humiliated to make eye contact, but still refused to be alone like this. Thank God the bassist understood so she didn’t have to pathetically mewl it out loud.

  “Okay. I’m staying. I won’t go anywhere.”

Joan wanted to thank her, she really did, but bile rose up in her throat and she gathered enough energy to push herself up to avoid vomiting all over herself again.

Bessie holds her hair out of the way, rubbing her hand gently across the top of her back. She sneaks a few glances at the scar when she does so, tugging down the blanket to get a better look.

It didn’t look like the result of a weapon, rather a rope. A permanent trench was carved along her flesh, a slight dip in the pale expanse that was her back. Definitely rope burn of some kind, but how did it happen? Maybe it was a childhood accident? Somehow Joan got caught in a rope? It seemed unlikely, but not improbable.

Joan shudders when Bessie rubs her thumb against her scar. Her back muscles lock up and then relax. The bassist’s touch was...soothing. The strings of fire lit around her chest diminish slightly.

If only that could also effect her roiling stomach.

The both of them stay in the bathroom for an hour, and Joan ends up throwing up two more times before her body finally relents. She sways and then collapses into Bessie’s chest, trembling in exhaustion and pain.

  “There we go, hun,” Bessie said, stroking back her sweat hair from her forehead, “All done?”

Joan nodded. Her stomach was still cramped up, and the sight from her nightmare still replays behind her eyes, but there was no more nausea. Her body just didn’t have the energy to make her sick anymore.

  “You poor thing,” Bessie sighed, “You don’t deserve this.”

Joan could only reply in a weak noise. Her cheeks were puffy and tender and her throat burned from all her excessive vomiting, so she couldn’t muster any words.

  “Let’s get you back to bed, alright? Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

Joan was nodding immediately.

Joan curled up into a tight ball the minute she was laid on Bessie’s bed. She’s completely exhausted and barely even awake at this point, but Bessie manages to get her to drink a glass of water before she completely passed out.

Bessie stayed up for around half an hour, just keeping watch over the keyboardist and making sure she was really asleep. Finally, she kissed the top of her girl’s forehead and lays down to rest.

It isn’t five minute later that she feels Joan reach out and cling to one of her arms. An amused, but loving smile came across Bessie’s lips and a nickname rolled off her tongue without even thinking.

  “Sleep well, dea della luna.”

[richmond-rex]

AU - Margert Beaufort's plans succeeded when she learns her son Henry seduced and eloped with King's sister Lizze, but as she reviced letter from her son shocked her , that Henry admit that he and Lizzie really love each other

Hello! I'm not sure if anon simply wanted me to give my thoughts on this AU but here's a little snippet I ventured to write after thinking about it. We start here from the premise that Edward V survives and defeats his uncle in this scenario. Under the cut!

When the messenger found Margaret at last, the sun was only then starting to peak on the horizon, a shock of white light haloing in the dark blue expanse pooled on the back of St Paul's highest spiral. She opened the sealed missive carefully, with increasingly tremulous fingers, kneeling at the priedieu before the carved altar niche in her chamber. Her breath held deep in her chest, she sent a prayer to the Virgin to give her the necessary fortitude to bear what news they had sent her. She was confronted with her own dear son’s handwriting.

Madam, my most entirely well-beloved lady and mother, in as humble manner as I can think, I recommend me to you, beseeching you that I may explain to you my mind and sincere enterprise before any others, bitterly vexed that a report should have been made to you before this my own letter, calculated to diminish the great genuine and motherly love you have always borne me above all others, as I know for a certainty. And I thought I should not offend you, which I will never do willfully, to advertise unto you that it is my heart’s desire and intent to take the Lady Elizabeth the king's sister to wife, and that for this my said enterprise we make passage onto Calais, trusting Almighty God to give us safe and speedy shelter in those parts. Desiring therefore not to encumber you, but that I would make some recompensation for your displeasure with my writing, in my hearty wise I declare unto you that the lady has made her long and grievous suit to me, tears flowing on her face, humbly imploring me that I should deliver her of her fate and tragedy to be sent into the parts of Bourgogne to be wed to Maximilian the Archduke of Austria, according to the king’s disposition, as my lady well knoweth. And, finding my heart not less well-disposed towards hers than hers towards mine, I am decided to follow it as much as God will give me grace, as the only woman I have chosen to take as my lawfully wedded wife, under the leave of the Holy Father and the Church’s full blessed sacrament, if the Pope will be so kind as to grant us the dispensation in good time.

Margaret paused, drowning at a dark and despairing loss for words. She would never have predicted that sudden turn of events. Her son, enamoured with the king’s sister! Who could tell? Margaret had only seen the long glances the young lady, England’s beloved Bessy, had bestowed on Henry upon his return to the country, but she had deemed them but a young girl’s passing curiosity towards a stranger and former exile—a fascination with the unknown, and nothing more. Having aided the king in his just cause against his uncle, Margaret would never have thought her son could so soon turn against the young sovereign’s wishes by eloping with his sister. The picture was grim.

Verily, madam, the lady is good and virtuous, a peerless gentle and wise maiden of the highest degree, so chaste and beautiful to behold it fully caused my heart to ache without her sweetest presence by my side, so that I have not wished to see or hear any other human presence since I first laid my eyes upon her fair face, for I love her with soul and body, and trust our Lord to never make us part in this life or beyond. Therefore I truly wanted to tell you, madam, if I be too bold in this enterprise, or any my desires, I humbly beseech you of your pardon, knowing well how great and unremitting have been your benevolent and watchful efforts for my advancement, so much it were difficult to express. Wherefore I pray you will make suit into my lady’s mother the queen for the great and singular friendship it has pleased her at all times to bestow upon you, to plead for our cause next to her son the king, and that we may know her mind and pleasure on our behalf. And if I should never have the king’s nor the queen’s blessing, my mother, yet your kind dealing is to me a thousand times more than all the favour that can be dispensed on my cause. I thank you most heartily, wishing God to ever preserve you in good health and long life. Accept the writing I send, and have of me all the faith and devotion there is.  By your humble son and loyal friend, H Richmond

Margaret folded the letter and pressed it against her heart for a long moment. If King Edward were still alive, her son’s eloping with his eldest daughter would be nothing short of treason. Now that Elizabeth was but the king’s sister, however... there was perhaps a sliver of hope, though she dared not yet to grasp it. Catastrophe and fortune hung in the air, suspended as a some great bell about to ring. Margaret wanted to stay and pray for her son but there was no time. She needed to act, and act she would.

“Joan,” she spoke to the damsel in her room, “Send for the carriage at once.”

[adamantiumdragonfly]

No Ordinary Time: Part Two “wherever you are tonight”

"...A time when the United States is what we fight for..."

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and current sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military-grade pencils and scraps of paper.

Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she's left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover's voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.

wherever you are tonight

Taglist:  @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701  @wexhappyxfew @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @thoughpoppiesblow  @pxpeyewynn @50svibes​

Norfolk, VA. 4th of April, 1944. 

While some found the adjustment to loved ones being taken from their grasp rocky, Elizabeth Ferguson had the advantage that only a select few possessed. She had already lived through it, making the sting nothing but a fond memory. It didn’t stop stinging though, no matter how many times one felt it. A dull ache would be a more appropriate term, the bruised flesh tender, and the black discoloration fading but the strain of muscles didn’t let the memory fade entirely. It was enough to make a first-timer bedridden for a week but to a repeat offender like Elizabeth, it was a mild discomfort. She had said goodbye before and did her best not to, when given the chance.

She held onto forlorn books, ragged quilts, and threadbare shirts to keep the end at bay, trying to prevent the inevitable ache. Elizabeth tried her best to limp about when the goodbyes were unavoidable. That could be said of everything she attempted. Bessie was a trier, an all-around trier and failer. She didn’t have a wall of degrees like Estelle or a self-assured flick to her head like Vera. She was just Bessie Ferguson, who had clattered and crashed her way through twenty-one years of life.  Not that she hadn’t attempted school (she wasn’t the best student) and not that she hadn’t attempted to walk with the confidence that her theatrical friend possessed (it ended in a twisted ankle and a scraped-up knee) but by god, she tried.

She liked to think that her determination was her best attribute, right up there with the dimple on her left cheek that had gotten her more than her fair share of tips when she had been employed at Charlie’s. The real Charlie had said she was one of his best workers and his gruff voice in her head still brought a smile to her lips, bringing out the money-winning dimple.

Even when goodbyes were said, Bess found ways to hold onto the people or things. She still frequented her old place of work long after she was employed in the noble service of her country. Every Friday, like clockwork, she was in the second to last booth, the red vinyl striking against the blue of her uniform.

I look like the American flag, Bess thought, examining herself in the reflection on the glass of the window. Red booths, white mugs, and a blue uniform. How was that for patriotic?

She looked different, hair sleek and uniform pressed. Was this really Bessie Ferguson who knew every waitress and cook’s name in Charlie’s Diner? Or was Bessie older now, with the WAVES blue wool on her shoulder, finer and warmer than anything she had owned in her twenty-one years. 1941 seemed like a century ago, not three years.

“Hiya, Bess,” Angie was still there, her bouffant of pin curls still perched precariously on her brow. “You got a letter from your boy, I see,”

Bess came in every Friday, with a new letter or to write her own. The grease-stained walls had brought her luck and good memories. She thought that she could imbue them into the stationary, sending them across the ocean to him.

“Yup,” Bessie said, smiling.

“About damn time,”

She had been sat without a letter for some two weeks now. The patrons and the staff of Charlie’s had been concerned, fretting more than Bessie had herself.

“He was a dear thing, that Powers boy,” Angie said, tucking her pad back into the apron Bess was all too familiar with. There was no need to take her order, Bess ordered the same thing every time. “Two sugars, right?”

No matter how tenderly she tried, the bruise was liable to be bumped or brushed. She tried not to wince at the words.

“I saved you a seat,” He would say, even though she was working. He knew full well she shouldn’t sit during her shift but he would say it anyway and she could never say no, either. His smile had seared itself into her mind, a soft glow that warmed her better than any cup of coffee ever did. He would pour her a cup anyway, from the pot she had brought to refill his own mug. “Two sugars, right?”

That had been before rationing. That had been before the war had been set to boil when it was brewing like the dark roast that soaked every inch of this diner. It had been percolating, slowly dripping and staining their country. He had been a machinist at the shipyard’s graveyard shift and she had been a waitress at his favorite diner, that served coffee with “the prettiest smile I ever saw”. It had been a romance sweeter than any baked good in the case and more poetic than Jeannette’s Shakespeare.

She had been a different person then, just a little girl in her third house in three years. Bessie hadn’t known Mrs. Grisham’s motherly touch or the soft smile of her beau. Bessie had only known how to try and try she did.

the ‘30s hadn’t treated Bessie’s family well but she knew they weren’t special in that aspect. The world had been gripped by the choking thorns of financial strain and the vines had pulled the last strains of life out of her parents. When her father had died, Bessie had thought things would be okay. The farm she had grown up on and the family she had been surrounded with was invincible, or so she had thought. She would grow up under the bows of that oak tree that towered in the yard, swatting the swarms of yellow flies and raking up the leaves in the fall. It was her home.

But Bessie watched her family home disappear from view in the backseat of a second cousin’s car, eight years old and she had never seen her new home before. Her oldest brother, Arthur, was sent some twenty miles to the west, only twelve, to provide labor to yet another distant relative’s floundering farm. Eight years old and Bessie would never see home again.

Elizabeth Ferguson hadn’t been raised to admit defeat. As the Depression stretched on and her bags were packed and unpacked, Bessie kept trying. She made her peace with every attempt, trying hard to be useful, helpful, and liked. Her name provided a blank slate, quickly covered in her current caretaker’s preferred nickname. Elizabeth. Beth. Bess. Bessie. Lizzie. Liz. Eliza. She answered to them all and she didn’t mind, truly she didn’t. She would try her best to be what that family wanted, what that home demanded but she’d end up with the suitcase in her hand and a new route to a new home.

Elizabeth had parted ways with the last relative, the last attempt at home, at the age of eighteen. April had dawned cold that year, 1941. She had found employment with the sticky floors and chrome edgings of Charlie’s, turning up on the Grisham’s doorstep. It had been Carrie, Vera, and Estelle back then. Before the war.

Before the war. She worked hard, shoes wearing thin and bones aching when her head hit the pillows. Elizabeth had worked hard and tried to cling to what she had left, the friends she had gained, and the home she had made. Maybe if she clung to them, the one god thing wouldn’t slide away from her, finding a home in some other harbor.

She hadn’t been looking for him or anyone and yet, they had found each other. Drawn towards each other, blending and blurring in watercolor of perfection. Maybe the best pieces of art were the ones that weren’t intended.

“Has anyone seen to you two?” She had asked, whirling around on the slick tiled floor. They were a grease-stained pair, smelling of oil and sleepless nights like every machinist who crossed the line from Portsmouth for a cup of coffee after work.

“No, ma’am,” The tallest, a thin, rake of a boy who didn’t seem much older than Bessie said. His voice was soft, not loud and course like the usual Shipyard folk. “We are fine to sit for a spell-”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth shifted the bus bucket of dirty dishes to her hip, bracing it with her arm so she could retrieve the pad and pen from her pocket. “What can I get you two?”

“Ma’am, do you need a hand?” The soft-spoken one made to reach for the bucket but Bessie raised a hand to stop him.  

“It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.” She smiled. “Now what can I get you two?”

Faces came and went in that little diner on the corner of College and Duke, there were the regulars and there were the strangers. Elizabeth had treated them all the same, a bright smile and a warm plate. It was the least she could do and she knew what it was to need a smile from a stranger or two. These two machinists weren’t the only blue collars who sat in the vinyl booths but she fought to keep her eyes on the paper and not straying towards the one who offered her help. The orders were taken and the niceties exchanged, Bess turned on her heel, biting her lip to keep from grinning.

As she marched towards the kitchen, his companion jabbed and teased, the blush creeping up the soft-spoken boy’s face, settling into his hairline. She

These two machinists quickly became regulars, coming back every Friday. Small talk was made and a rough sketch of their characters was established. Elizabeth had never been one to chase but it seemed the work was being done for her. Mr. Wynn and Mr. Powers returned week after week. As the months dragged by and April came and went, Mr. Powers would linger.

“Where are you from, Mr. Powers?”

“Clincho, ma’am,”

“I’ve got family out that way,” Elizabeth had said. “How long you been in the area?”

“I’ve been in Portsmouth for about a year now, I reckon,”

“I’ve an aunt in Portsmouth. Over on Bains Creek,”

“Where don’t you have family, ma’am?’

“The moon,”

He had smiled, bright and warm. Elizabeth felt like she had taken a warm cup of coffee and held it tight to her chest, fingers warming on the ceramic. The dimple on her left cheek appeared in response.

“It’s Elizabeth,” She said. “Elizabeth Ferguson.”

“Darrell Powers,”

Elizabeth had never thought that sharing a smile could be something so special. She had smiled at hundreds of patrons, offering a grin here and there until the muscles in her face hurt, all for a few extra quarters thrown on the table. Elizabeth had never expected a tip from Mr. Powers, or Shifty, as he said the boys called him. Mr. Powers, he remained to her, even on their tentative agreement to a show at the cinema on some Friday night. Mr. Powers, he would be, until he walked her home from her shift, offering her his jacket in the rainstorm that sent them racing towards the nearest porch. There, standing on a stranger’s porch, in the April rainshower, Elizabeth wrapped his jacket tighter around her disheveled uniform, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and oil. There, the rain beating down around them and his hair slick against his blushing face, he asked her if he could call her Elizabeth.

“Liz, Bess, I don’t care,” She said.

“Which do you like better, ma’am?”

“My brother used to call me Lizzie,” She admitted.

His eyes studied her like she was some fine painting he had spent hours perfecting and the name on his lips was the signature at the bottom, declaring the work as his. The colors could run and the ink would fade but Elizabeth Ferguson would cling to that coat in its smokey comfort. She had worn it as the rain had lightened up enough to begin their route to the Grisham front door. She wore it on the front porch and burrowed her hot face into the leather as Vera pounced on her, pounding her with questions and squeals.

Elizabeth Ferguson knew what it was to lose thing but Lizzie was willing to try and hold onto this boy as tight as she could. Lizzie was going to try her damn near hardest. This boy with his soft words and bright smile would be taken from her kicking and screaming. She allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of security, taking the two sugars in her coffee and his offered hand too. Lizzie was all bright paints and newly sharpened pencils and Shifty Powers was all steady hands and fresh paper, the perfect medium for this new home Lizzie dared dream of. She was ready to start something new, something untouched by the inevitable goodbyes.

Then the bubbling brew of Europe had overflowed into the spitting flames. Steam rose and Pear Harbor shattered like a ceramic mug on hard tiled floors. Vera left, caught up in the theatrics of secrets and intelligence and Carrie joined up, bringing her soft words and soothing hands to the wounded. Estelle left her school and allowed her talented mind to be lent to the Navy, putting together pieces of puzzles and breaking codes like they were the Sunday crossword. Lizzie wasn’t brave or smart or soft like her friends. Elizabeth Ferguson was a stumbling, bumbling trier and she grasped for the remaining pieces of that home she had searched for. She had spent years searching for family in the faces of strangers, reaching for that oak tree and rope swing in houses that would never be her home and she wasn’t about to lose it. Not to war, not to an Army, and most definitely not now.

“Don’t worry about me,” he had said, gripping her hands in his own calloused ones. He had volunteered, given himself up willingly. Lizzie could have screamed. The Airborne had terrified her, the planes and the silk chutes were terrifying. Their kiss on the Grisham Hall’s front porch had tasted like possibility and tears. He left for Georgia that morning, leaving her in Norfolk with only a pen and an empty hand.

She had told him she wouldn’t if he promised not to worry about her. She had tried not to be worried but maybe he had every reason to be worried about her.  

“Bess?” Angie said again, snapping her fingers. “You good, sugar?”

“Yes, sorry,” Elizabeth said, smiling sheepishly. This diner could pull her back when she didn’t have a thought for the present.

Angie shook her head. “Baby, I think they are working you too hard over there,”

“There” was the mailroom on base. “They” were the WAVES, summoning Bess to their cause. She had joined up in April of ‘43. He had been gone for a week and Bess couldn’t stare at the booth where he had once sat for hours. She didn’t mind the work, and she told Angie so. Being surrounded by all those letters and being the reason soldiers and families heard from their loved ones was the only thing that kept Elizabeth sane. She could try and offer some peace to the fellow fretting wives and friends who longed for a letter, a word, or even a telegram that told them that he was safe.

Angie wandered back to the counter, Elizabeth’s order safely scribbled in the confines of her mind, leaving her with her thoughts and her pen. Staring at the traffic that passed outside the window, her fingers gripped the pen, sketching out the twist of his head and the twinkle of his eyes as she remembered it. As his face burned into her mind.

She didn’t draw him as often as she wanted to. Elizabeth’s sketchpads were filled with the same sketches over and over, page after page, burned into her memory. She didn’t have to look at a reference anymore, the oak trees and the slopes of the house never changed. The smiling faces and the bright eyes as she remembered them didn’t shift. Every so often, a new face would grace the pages but that wasn’t a usual occurrence and was a great honor when a stranger or new face caught her attention. Flipping through the sketchpad, Elizabeth saw his face etched into the pages. She only put pen to paper and chronicled his features on the days she missed him the most. He haunted her more than she drew, hours spent with her finger on the desk tracing out his smile.

“They said you’d be here,” Jeannette Edwards stumbled through the door, arms full of books as she slid into the seat across from Bess. In the few weeks that Jeannette had lived in Grisham Hall, she had slowly acclimated herself to the Norfolk streets.

“Jeannie,” Bess smiled, closing her sketchpad. “Estelle still working?”

Jeannette nodded. “She said to meet you here and that we’d take the bus home.”

Bess folded her letter, sliding her belongings to the side so that Angie could place her order on the sticky tabletop. The mug of coffee, two sugars carefully rationed and dissolved, and the apple pie. Offering Jeannette the fork, she encouraged her to take a bite. Bess was passionate about oil pastels and pastries, making it her mission in life to share those passions with her friends. When a pie or a drawing was offered, Bess’s trust soon followed.

“Why do you rank pie, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jeannette asked, using the side of the fork to cut a piece off of the wedge of glistening golden pie.

“Every home is the same but the apple pie is different everywhere you go.” Bess explained.“Mrs. G’s is third best, this is the second-best apple pie.”

“Who is the first place?”

“Mine,” Bess smiled.  

“You are multi-talented then,” Jeannette said around the mouthful of second-best pie, dipping her head towards the sketchbook she had abandoned.

“I just doodled,” Bess shook her head but she offered the book to Jeannette all the same. Watching her thumb through the pages, Bess’s heart was wedged firmly in her throat, not daring to hope for any kind words or critique.

“These are beautiful,” Jeannette said, her fingers tracing the lines that intricate leaves that had first taken hours and now took a matter of minutes. “Where is it?”

“That’s my family’s farm.”

“You must visit often to sketch it so much,” Jeannette said.

Bess smiled, taking the sketchpad back and tucking it into her bag. Reaching for the cup of coffee, she stared into its dark depths. Maybe Jeannette knew the words to describe how she felt. Jeannette was better at words than Elizabeth.

“It’s hard to forget,” She admitted.

A knock on the window beside their booth made both women jump, the fork clattering on the shared pie plate. Estelle’s face pressed against the window as she beckoned them out, her lipstick faded after the long day hunched over the papers and codes. Estelle Tran was rarely seen with a hair out of place, much less with her signature red lipstick anything but striking against her pale skin. Bess insisted she looked like a real version of Snow White, something that Estelle had always shake her head at. Disney’s princess hadn’t been college-educated, she reminded them.

Bess dropped the money on the table and gathered up her purse and hat, waving goodbye with her fistful of gloves to the cooks and the regulars who still knew her name.

“See you next Friday, Bess,” Angie called as the door swung shut behind them.

“How was work, Stell?” Elizabeth asked, looping her arm through her friend’s as she tugged the gloves over her graphite-smudged hands.

“Heinous,”

The disheveled appearance of the usually put-together Estelle was indication enough. Bessie nodded.

“Let’s go home,” she said.

It was, in moments such as this, when rest is most needed that the world decides to test you.

The bus pulled up to its spot, just as it always did. It was a route that Bess was familiar with, a routine that she welcomed. Fridays were spent at the diner until Estelle got off of work. They would then walk home or, if particularly exhausted, take the bus. Bessie hopped inside without hesitation, ready to sit in a seat and watch the world pass by while she finished the letter she had drafted in her mind. The bus driver, a new face, said nothing as she entered. But, on the days when rest is most needed, inconvenience is the Devil’s worst weapon.

“We don’t let your people on,” The bus driver said, the passengers peering over the edge of the nest, not daring to disagree.

“I beg your pardon?” Bess looked back, seeing that he was not referring to her in her American blue uniform but Estelle. Dear Estelle with her features nothing like the usual faces of Norfolk, Virginia.

Jeannette’s mouth hung wide and Estelle froze, foot perched on the step. Her face fell and Bessie could almost hear it shatter on the pavement. The Grisham girls had been informed that Estelle’s family hailed from the Indochina islands in the Pacific and had been in America since Teddy Roosevelt’s days. She was most ardently NOT the enemy. Mrs. Grisham would sniff indignantly at such a mention and Vera, before she had left, had been known to glower at anyone who dared say such a “fucking disgusting thing”.

Bessie stepped forward, ready to give the man the facts but a hand encircled her arm, pulling her out of the bus and back on the pavement before the doors swung open. Swearing so loudly and vehemently that Mrs. Grisham would have been sent to an early grave, Bessie aimed a kick at the tire of the bus before it sped off, sans three passengers.

“It’s fine,” Estelle said.

“You aren’t Japanese!” Elizabeth growled, her shoes stomping on the pavement. Bess was a trier and she was a fighter. She was ready to try fighting for Estelle, even if that meant throwing a fist at this burly bus driver.

“It’s fine, Bess,” Estelle said.

“That was a despicable thing to do,” Jeannette fumed.

“Let’s just go home,” Estelle muttered, squashing her hat more firmly over her brow and leading the way down the street.

What good was it, Bessie grumbled to herself as she followed Estelle, to serve your country when you were still considered the enemy?

Estelle worked harder than any man and she had been working hard for many years. She had been a teacher and now fiddled with codes that boggled even the male mind. And yet, she was only seen as the enemy. Estelle Tran, by seniority or by necessity, had taken the unofficial role of den mother among the women of Grisham Hall. On the third floor, nothing went on without Estelle knowing. She guarded the girls like they were her own, a grim mother hen who warded off broken hearts and bruised feelings with wise words and her own experience. Bessie loved Estelle like she was a sister and she would have gladly punched that bus driver if she wasn’t wearing the uniform of the US WAVES. Women’s work in the war was precarious enough as it was.

Elizabeth didn’t say a word, as she slipped her hand into Estelle’s, gripping it tightly as they marched through the streets of Norfolk, their heads held as high as they could manage. She knew she couldn’t fight to change every mind or man in this country but Bessie Ferguson was a trier, through and through. Home may not have looked like that oak tree or the face she had sketched so often but she’d hold onto it as long as she could.

[rdr2dd]

February 20th Update

Ah, so, so much for weekly updates, I guess? Life is just overwhelming right now, and my spare time has been consumed by a new, different video game obsession (shoutout to everyone else sinking countless hours into roaming Night City). Still, I’m here, and this project isn’t dead, just sleeping.

Last time I updated, I shared with you the progress I’d made on assembling Annabelle, and this time I’m bringing you Bessie. Modeled by our lovely gray, generic model, we’ve got two outfits and a hairstyle. This is, of course, all fun speculative fanwork; no files exist that I’ve found for Bessie, though I have paid mind to the single in-game photo we have of her.

The first outfit is more of a daily, out-and-about sort of deal. Nothing fancy, just the sort of well-put-together but simple thing I imagine would suit her, as well as a version with a sweater. I picture her as frequently cold, for some reason? So it seemed a shame to leave her without something to keep cozy. The single photo we have of her, small as it is, seems to show her as modest and fairly stuffy, but I think that may be more a product of the photography situation at the time than her personality, so I’ve kept the general modesty and leaned into simply keeping her stylish and more traditionally feminine. I’ve also stolen the necklace from that photo, as it seemed a nice detail to keep.

The second outfit is for around camp, in the early mornings and late fireside evenings. We have no way of saying for sure whether she actually traveled with the gang, but I like to imagine she did for a time, long enough for both Arthur and John to get to know and love her as a sort of motherly figure, long enough for there to have been plenty of shared complaints and jokes between her, Annabelle, and Susan. Still, even if she was traveling with the gang, I wanted to keep that extra layer of modesty and style, a few nicer things here and there to signify that she does come from a different world and that Hosea was taking good care of her, so I’ve given her a rather pretty overcoat to keep the chill off and some extra lacy trim on her chemise. Little details, but they just seemed right to add.

I’ve kept her hair light, as per the photo we have of her, and given her the bangs she’s shown with, but otherwise I went with a simpler hairstyle. Again, I’m trying to walk that line between modest, feminine, well-kept and also, well, practical. I figure Bessie must have had practicality in spades, to deal with how Hosea lived his life, and so I wanted to reflect that in her look, too. 

Summary

Outfits and hairstyle mesh assembled and textured for Bessie.

As an aside, I super appreciate any messages, whether they’re comments or inquiries, that folks want to send. It’s really nice to hear what folks are thinking, and it keeps me motivated!

[the10amongstthese3s]

Can I get 24 of the prompts with some angsty liws pls You can make me cry I wont mind

Once again, I managed to turn angst into fluff. I apologise 😂 I hope this is okay, my love! Thank you for the suggestion 💚🦆

24. “I just came to say goodbye.”

(954 words)

Some words are hard to say. Otorhinolaryngologist. Worcestershire… Anemone. There’s plenty of words that certainly don’t roll off the tongue.

Of course, some people say “sorry” is the hardest word. Others argue that “I love you” is a million times harder. Though, I suppose that’s not really a word, is it? Whatever you may believe, for Maggie there was only one word she struggled with. One word she hated with a vengeance.

Goodbye. 

Maybe that’s why the girl waited til the very last moment to tell her friends about her new job offer. A part of her had considered not telling them at all. Sneaking out in the middle of the night and never returning seemed easier than seeing the betrayal on their faces. Still though, Maggie knew they deserved better. The other Ladies in Waiting were her family, after all.

Of course, the group had been shocked at first, but quickly changed their tune to one of encouragement. They were proud of their sister! God knows she deserved to do whatever was going to make her happy. They all did.

The new job offered extra money, better opportunities, even the possibility of a recording contract! It was everything Maggie had ever dreamed of.

Some dreams, however, are nightmares in disguise.

You see, the job wasn’t as perfect as it appeared. Not only was Maggie leaving her job, but the new offer was almost six hours away in another city. Not just another city, but another country entirely! If she was going to do this, Maggie was going to have to move out. To venture away from home for the first time since her reincarnation.

Once they heard that, the ladies' support died down slightly. They tried to be there for her - really all they wanted was for Maggie to be happy - but the thought of the girl so far away broke their hearts. If not for Anne’s support, the distraught look in the ladies' eyes every time they crossed paths may have prompted the girl to decline the offer altogether. She hated how their stares seemed to linger on her. How she could tell there was so much they wanted to say.

There was only one word left for her to say, though. One word and her life would be changed for good.

That stupid word. 

Backpack in hand, Maggie strolled into the living room, scratching her neck nervously. Joan couldn’t even look up at her. Was she crying? Maggie wasn’t quite sure and, honestly, she didn’t want to find out.

“I uh… Anne’s here to drop me at the airport,” Maggie announced, making Joan’s head shoot up. 

Yeah. Definitely crying.

“I just came to say good-“

Before she even got the word out, Maggie was tackled to the ground by Maria and Joan charging at her, holding her close. Her sisters. Her sweet, slightly overdramatic sisters.

It took all her strength for Maggie to not burst into tears at that moment, feeling Joan sob into her shoulder as Maria peppered her hair with kisses. She was going to miss that. The way Joan clung to people like a koala when she was sad. Maria’s motherly urges. The sweet scent of cherry blossom that always clung to the woman. 

All of it. She was going to miss it all.

She had to go, though. She had to leave. That money, the huge opportunities the job offered. There was no way she could possibly turn all that down. That would be absolutely absurd!

Right?

Looking up, Maggie noticed Bessie stood watching them, smiling with a sense of pride as her eyes welled up. She wouldn’t cry though. No, Bessie didn’t cry. She was far too badass for that. Instead, the woman gave a nod. A nod that conveyed so many unspoken words. Maggie knew what she meant though. She understood completely.

It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

Her family would survive without her. They had each other, after all. She would visit them soon but, until then, it was going to be okay. 

Giving a smile, Maggie wiped her eyes and pushed herself up, pressing kisses to all three women’s cheeks before freeing herself from Joan’s iron grip. 

“I’ll see you guys soon,” Maggie smiled as she reached the door, keeping her eyes on the emotional women. “I love you.”

Just like that, it was over.

“Ready to go?” Anne smiled as Maggie climbed into the car, for once knowing better than to tease her for the tear stains on her cheeks. That question though spun around in Maggie’s mind. How could she ever be ready? Was anybody ever really ready to desert their family in favour of fame and fortune? Was that even worth it?

“Magpie? Hey, breathe for me, Mags. You look like you’re about to hurl.”

Before Anne could begin to panic, though, Maggie looked up with tear-filled eyes and gave an answer. An answer neither of them expected to hear.

“No.”

“...No?”

“I’m not ready!”

Without another word, Maggie shot out of the car and raced back inside, launching herself onto the couch where Joan and Maria now resided. As much as she hated to admit it, Maggie needed her sisters. Maybe they were going to be okay without her, but she certainly wouldn’t be.

Money, fame, whatever she may have gained from that job; none of it was more important to her than her family. None of it was worth her happiness. 

Maggie never actually ended up saying goodbye that day. In fact, she made a vow to never say that awful word again. Not to her family. Goodbyes, after all, imply an ending. If she was going to have an ending, Maggie deserved a happy ending. 

[boleyn-falcon]

The Queens of The Castle Chapter 5

Its here! i changed it up a little with this one and almost doubled the word count! I’m gonna be putting more words into each chapter so there’s a bit more since i take so long updating (whoops sorry hehe). haha i proise they wil actually be in the parks next chapter i swear! I just wanna build the suspense lol

oh and i hope yall like the little LiW cameo, i will prolly have them pester the queens every once and a while because i love them too much to have them not lol

Word-count - 2811

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter4 

‘The queens finally figure out how to actually get into The Magic Kingdom’

Jane looked around in confusion and turned to her Spanish companion with a quizzical look. Catalina just gave an equally confused look as the rest of her fellow queens turned to her, looking for an answer to their confusion. The Spaniard quickly pulled out her phone to double-check if they got on the correct bus. “Well this don’t really look like a ‘Magic Kingdom’ to me ‘Lina”, the German said as she stepped forward, hoping for an explanation of why there were at this ‘transportation center’. The blonde queen walked over to her golden friend and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder, “ I bet it was just a slight misunderstanding of the bus schedule, right Cathrine?”, all Jane got in response was a worried glance.  Anne and Kat decided to just look around to maybe find someone that could lend them a hand, but all they saw where other guests in groups are lines.  The green-clad queen was starting to get a bit antsy as she had no idea what they were doing or what they were doing next, the plans that she made in her head were starting to derail. The idea of not knowing, of being in the dark, left her feeling like she was a sitting duck in an ocean, she hated feeling like a duck. Kathrine, noticing her cousin’s slight fidgeting and cracks in her usual confidant façade, gave her a reassuring smile and put her hands in a ‘rock, paper, scissors’ position. The young queen knew that playing it would help Anne take her mind off of everything, and she was right, her and her older cousin started playing and Anne’s nerves started to calm down slightly.         Cathrine, after a few minutes of reading, addresses the group of Tudor queen, “Okay girls, I know for a fact the bus we took here was the correct one, but after looking at a map I’ve found that the park in question is… across a body of water and we need to take another mode of transportation to get there.”. The rest of the group gave out a groan but Jane was fast to shut down the frustration party, “Well I bet there’s a fast easy way to get to the park! We could maybe find someone who works here to point us in the right direction!”, Anne was fast to shut her optimistic friend down, “Me and Kitty already tried, the only people here are guests like us”. Jane gives a confident look in return and starts to walk towards the crowds of people, “Well then I guess you didn’t look hard enough, trust me, I can find someone!”, the silver woman was gone before they could tell her to wait. They all just stood in shock as they waited for the eventual return of their motherly friend. “ Huh I can’t believe Jane of all people took charge like that, I guess she really is determined for us to have a good vacation here”, the curly-haired bookworm said with a slight smirk tugging at her lips. The cousins just returned to their games of ‘rock, paper, scissors,’ while Cathy continued her book and Anna and Cathrine started chatting.         “So you and Jane really think this trip is gonna go smoothly? And be as good as everyone makes it up to be?”, the short-haired woman says with a hint of skepticism, “I mean it’s going somewhat well so far I just really hope it’s all as good as it seems is all.”, the older queen gives a hopeful look at her fellow divorcee. “Well we are gonna do everything in our power, as you can see with Jane going on her little hunt, to make sure you girls get the vacation you all deserve. We all have been working hard on the show and we needed a well-deserved break and some ‘family fun’ and Jane would call it”, Anna, satisfied with her friend’s response, gave a nod and thankful smile.          Meanwhile, in the crowd of people, Jane was trying to find anyone who even remotely looked like they worked there. She noticed a lot of the people were lining up at certain booths and kiosks, a lightbulb went off in the pale queen’s brain as she walked over to one of the lines. After just a few minutes of looking around her surroundings, she spotted a shorter elderly woman earring a plain white shirt and a name tag. She got a bit closer to get a better look at her nametag that read, ‘Florence’ in bold, presumably her name and, ‘Ocala, FL’. Jane guessed that’s where the woman was from, that would make the most sense. She approached the older woman but before she could speak, the woman flashed her a bright smile, “Hey there honey! You need help findin’ somethin’ ‘round here?”. The queen was slightly surprised by the woman’s straightforwardness and readiness to help, but she was thankful she knew why Jane approached her.  “Well actually yes ma’am, see me and my friends need help trying to get to ‘The Magic Kingdom’, we thought the bus we took here would take us there but we ended up here. Where do we go to get to the park?”, the woman smiled brightly and gave a two-fingered point to her right and Jane’s left, “Well okay darlin’ your gonna wanna take you and your friends in that direction to the ‘Magic Kingdom’ express Monorail right ovr’ there. When Yall take that there Monorail it will drop you off right at the park! I hope all have a magical trip!”. Jane gave a small ‘thank you very much’ and started off back in the direction of her fellow queens so they can really get this show on the road. The hospitality and over-friendliness of the people here threw her off slightly, was everyone here like that? She really hoped so, it would make their trip a lot easier in the long run.        Cathy watched her blonde friend approach the group with a slight skip in her step and a wide smile. Hopefully this meant she found out a solution to their little dilemma. “Okay loves lets get moving! This lovely employee I met told me that we need to get on this ‘Monorail’ to get to the park! It’s right over there so we should be there in no time!”, they all grabbed their various bags and water bottles they set down next to them and started walking with Jane taking the lead. Cathy started to take a closer look at where the silver-clad woman was leading them. There was a large sign that said ‘Magic Kingdom Monorail’ and under that was a large ramp for people to walk up. The short queen looked further ahead of them to see the ramp lead to what looks like some kind of docking and boarding area above the ground. They all make it about halfway up the ramp and stop, there was a line to board but it wasn’t really that long. Cathy takes this as a chance to look up just in time to see a white futuristic train-like vehicle with a lime green stripe going along the side of it. It seemed to have several different areas for, what Cathy assumed, people would be riding. She took a guess that it was going about 40ish miles per hour. This must be the Monorail that takes people from and to the park, seeing this only made the blue queen more curious about what this place had in store.      Cathrine would be lying if she said she said she wasn’t worried about the trip as a whole. One thing that worried the Spaniard was having The Ladies in Waiting house watch for them. Yes she loved and trusted the girls but they can be… a lot sometimes, and that’s why when Catalina got a call from Bessie, she was pretty concerned. The gold queen let out an exhausted sigh and answered, putting her phone on speaker so the rest of the group could listen in. The first thing that comes out of the phone is a distant shrill scream, definitely Joan everyone collectively thinks. Thankfully next they hear an actual voice, a frantic sounding Bessie, “Hey um mu- I mean um Cathrine? We have a small issue at the house-”, the bassist was cut off by a very panicked sounding Maria screaming, “Maggie put the- NO! God no don’t use her legs!”. They all exchanged very concerned looks, well, and a small chuckle from Anna. “Bessie dear what’s going on? Is everyone okay? Was that scream Joan? Is she okay?”, the group waited silently for the musician to respond. “Well um not really? One of Anna’s dogs got out of backyard through a small hole under the fence, but good news Maria grabbed it before it got far! Bad news is Joan tried to squeeze through the hole after it and now shes a little… stuck?”, another crash can be heard and another wail from the stuck pianist and the panicked drummer, “Maggie be gentle with her! We can’t have you ripping her back skin off!”, an even louder scream can be heard in response. Cathrine clears her throat and continues the conversation, “Okay Bessie dear first you all need to calm down. Then just try and calm the poor girl down enough and try slowly pulling her arms from the other side of the fence. If that doesn’t work just try making the hole bigger so she can get out, okay?”. All the queens hear a quiet ‘Okay.. thank you’, Bessie hangs up and they all give out a sigh of relief.  The group all notice the line starting to move and walk forward till they are covered by the stone roof of the open boarding area. It looks like the next monorail that comes along should be the one they can get on since there’s only about 25ish people ahead of them now.         The Cousins continue their games as they wait but Anne soon gets distracted by a spaced-out Cathy near the back of the group. She turns to her younger cousin with a small smile, “Hey Kitty I’m gonna go see what Cathy is up to, you should go keep Anna company since she’s just on her phone, sound good?”, the younger girl gives a smile and a nod as she practically skips over to her German friend. The older beheaded queen makes her way to the back of the group and taps her shorter friend of the shoulder which makes Parr blink and step back slightly in confusion. The curious queen soon turns her surprised look into a happy one after she notices that it was just Anne who tapped her. “Whatcha starin’ at nerd? I’m surprised your nose isn’t buried in that book like earlier”, Cathy just raises her brow and gives a smirk at the dark-haired girl, but the look just becomes a small laugh and smile. “Well I was just thinking about all of the new technology, like yea its been a while since we first came to the modern world and learned about all of the new stuff, but there’s still so much more we haven’t even seen yet!”, Cathy’s eyes practically turned to stars while talking about her fascination with all of the new things she was seeing. The green queen smiled and put her arm around her friend’s shoulder to pull her along, “Well there’s plenty more to see so you have tons of time to see everything, but I bet being up here with the rest of us will let you see even more”, she pulls the curly-haired queen forward closer to the rest of the group.  Right as the pair make it up next to the rest of their friends, they see the monorail enter the docking area.       The group sees doors open on the opposite side of the monorail and just a small handful of people exit, then the doors on their side of the monorail open, and people in the line start entering. They are ushered inside one of the monorail cars along with a handful of people. A small group of teenage boys and from the looks of it their mother, a small family of four, and your average happy couple. They all stood, holding onto the metal rails, waiting for the doors to close. Out of nowhere, they here a voice over the speakers, “Please stand clear of the doors;¡Por favor manténgase alejado de las puertas!”, the Spanish words startled the Spaniard slightly. “Did..did I just hear that correctly? I’m not going crazy right?”, her question was answered as the voice repeated the message when the final doors on their left closed. The rest of the girls gave out a small laugh as Cathy took this as a moment to share what she learned, “Yep! You heard that all right! Since this country is so diverse they commonly have safety messages in multiple languages, most commonly Spanish! Actually a large population of Florida and the south, in general, is Latin American so a lot of people speak Spanish!”, the blue queen beamed, proud of herself for her research coming in handy. Aragon hummed in understanding and awe as the monorail finally started to move.       The queens stood in silence while the groups around them began to start chatting like no one was around, they didn’t seem to mind talking amongst themselves in such an enclosed and public space. That is until the assumed mother of the teenage boys stopped and looked between her boys in the seats and the six queens standing. “Goodness boys where are yalls’ manners? Get up now let these nice women sit down Dontcha?”, all five boys stand up with smiles still plastered on their faces and one of the older ones turns towards the queens, “I’m sorry ladies, here you sit yourselves down and get comfortable”, the queens obliged and sit down, slightly in shock but give small ‘thank yous’.  Anna notices none of the boys are actually hold the poles as they stand, they are all just standing with their feet firmly planted to the ground or with their backs leaning on the poles, one of them even is gripping the pole but with his hand in his pocket, so his hand isn’t actually touching the pole. The German gave a small cough to get the boy gripping the pole through his pocket’s attention and he looks up at her with a curious, but friendly look of acknowledgment. “Not to be rude but, why are none of you actually touching the poles, aren’t they there to be held onto?”, the boy flashes a smile and gives his response, “Well yall obviously ain’t from ‘round here, but here it’s kinda common to not actually hold onto em.”, the teenager counties, “Because you don know how many strangers have touched it an’ all, haha you don’t know what kinda germs they have yknow?”, Anna thinks about his answer, it makes a lot of sense so she just gives him a look of acknowledgment and he goes back to playing on his phone. The red-clad queen didn’t realize how germaphobic people here where, she became used to holding onto things barehanded on the tube and didn’t really think much of how many people must have touched them.       After just five or so minutes of riding, Anne noticed a few of the boys began to look out the window to her left on the sliding door. She moved her body forward slightly to get a better look at what they were gawking at and saw, in the distance, a white and blue castle. The rest of the queens followed suit and peered over to get a look outside the window. “It’s…”, is all Catalina could get out before they all started to slightly tear up at the sight, “...Gorgeous”. Anne took a wild guess that this was the castle that was plastered as a symbol all around the resort. She couldn’t believe it, it hadn’t fully hit her until now, she really was about to enter the famed ‘Happiest Place on earth’. Obviously the castle was meant to be slightly ‘magical’ and look like it was pulled right out of a fairytale, but it looked like something she would gladly take residence in her last life. They started to get closer but the castle came out of view and another docking area began to get closer, they were almost there. The brunette queen began to practically vibrate with excitement as she wiped a stray tear from her eye. Anne stood up as the monorail began to slow down and enter the stone enclosure, “alright girls”, she turned to her friends with a proud and confident smile, “Lets go storm the castle!”.

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

I hope yall get that reference in the last line because if not im gonna feel like a huuuuge nerd-

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

[eyreguide]

Female Relationships in Jane Eyre

Famed historical author Philippa Gregroy recently wrote an essay for a BBC radio series in which she re-imagined the ending of Jane Eyre.  Is this ending one in which Jane realizes she’s too good for Mr. Rochester and runs away with Bertha?  You bet.  It’s not exactly new in terms of seeing the novel in a different light, so I will pass over making more comments defending the romance of Jane and Rochester, but I thought there was an interesting idea brought up in the program - that Jane has far more nurturing and positive relationships with women than men in the story.  Of course, Jane does not have many male relatives, and can not be friendly with men in the general sense given the time period and her circumstances, but this idea made me think of the female vs. male relationships in Jane Eyre.  Philippa Gregory makes the case that the “women are the loving, spiritually aware heart of the book.”  She specifially highlights Bessie (”the maid”), Helen Burns (”the one true love”), Miss Temple (”the guiding star and mentor”) and Mrs. Fairfax (”the disregarded mother figure”).  The quotations are from Philippa and her description of each character.  

In this post, I wanted to examine these positive female relationships to see just how integral they are to the character of Jane Eyre.  Curiously, Philippa Gregory doesn’t mention Eliza and Georgiana Reed and Diana and Mary Rivers, but I will also include them in this post.  

Bessie

While Bessie is sympathetic towards young Jane’s plight in the Reed household, Jane’s descriptions of Bessie seem less effusive than I would think considering she is placed by Philippa as an example of the “loving” and “spiritually aware” type of woman.  Jane says in Chapter 4: “if Bessie has been kind and companionable, I should have deemed it a treat to spend the evenings quietly with her...”

Bessie is definitely the best part of Jane’s stay in Gateshead though, and she seems to have a genuine fondness for Jane.  She says: “I don’t dislike you, Miss; I believe I am fonder of you than of all the others.”  Bessie’s kindness in small ways (making her treats, singing her songs and telling her stories) somewhat tempers the abuse Jane gets from Mrs. Reed and her cousins.

Eliza and Georgiana Reed

Jane’s interactions with her cousins from her mother’s side do not fit into this idea of loving positive female companionship.  They bully her when she is a child and either treat her indifferently or find ways to make her useful to them when she comes to see Aunt Reed later.  It is tragic that Jane can’t get along with her cousins since without Mrs. Reed’s influence they might have been friends.  But with Eliza being so cold and Georgiana being so selfish, Jane is better off without them.

Helen Burns

There is no question that the relationship Jane and Helen have is nurturing, positive and beneficial to Jane.  Helen inspires Jane to become a better person and she shows Jane what a good, spiritual person looks like.  Jane does not get another example of a person like this and it forms the foundation for her morality and her spirituality.  Helen Burns was based on Charlotte’s older sister Maria, so I believe that Charlotte showcased a touching sisterly friendship in Helen and Jane.  

Miss Temple

While Philippa Gregory gives Mrs. Fairfax the distinction of being the motherly figure to Jane, I feel that Miss Temple fits this role more.  She is obviously concerned for their wellbeing, as she presents motherly concern when they have not eaten well, are too cold, or needs some comfort.  When Helen and Jane leave her apartment after a meal of seed cake and tea, she exclaims “God bless you, my children!”  Jane later says that “she has stood me in the stead of mother, governess, and latterly, companion.”  Miss Temple is a calming influence in Jane’s life - only when Miss Temple marries and moves away, does Jane feel stirred to leave Lowood.  Their relationship is certainly loving, and does show that loving female relationships impressed itself on Jane’s character at a young age, and this seems to form Jane into the strong, determined person she becomes.

Mrs. Fairfax

Kindly Mrs. Fairfax does indeed treat Jane in a motherly fashion.  When Jane first arrives at Thornfield she makes sure she is warm and fed, and has set up a lovely bedroom for her - considering that she would prefer to be near other people instead of in colder, more distant quarters.  But when I read the novel, I can see that Jane is sometimes impatient with Mrs. Fairfax.  

“I cherished toward Mrs. Fairfax a thankfulness for her kindness, and a pleasure in her society proportionate to the tranquil regard she had for me, and the moderation of her mind and character.” (italics my own emphasis)

And later when Jane is on her way back from her walk to post a letter: “I did not like re-entering Thornfield.  To pass its threshold was to return to stagnation; to cross the silent hall, to ascend the darksome staircase, to seek my own lonely little room, and then to meet tranquil Mrs. Fairfax, and spend the long winter evening with her, and her only, was to quell wholly the faint excitement wakened by my walk”

Jane’s attitude towards Mrs. Fairfax is somewhat reserved which is a little sad considering how warm and kindly Mrs. Fairfax is, but it does seem that Jane has little in common with her and also finds her dull and that makes it difficult for them to be truly close.  Mr. Rochester provides more interest in conversation than poor Mrs. Fairfax.

Diana and Mary Rivers

There is no question that Diana and Mary provide positive female companionship for Jane.  In the face of their reserved and cold brother, St. John, the way they open their home and hearts to Jane is striking.  Yet Jane’s description of the sisters is curious:

“Diana had a voice toned, to my ear, like the cooing of a dove.  She possessed eyes whose gaze I delighted to encounter.  Her whole face seemed to me full of charm.  Mary’s countenance was equally intelligent—her features equally pretty; but her expression was more reserved, and her manners, though gentle, more distant.  Diana looked and spoke with a certain authority: she had a will, evidently.  It was my nature to feel pleasure in yielding to an authority supported like hers, and to bend, where my conscience and self-respect permitted, to an active will.”

Their familial bond brings them closer together, but Jane’s first impressions of Mary as being reserved and Diana’s as being authoratiative feels less friendly than I would have expected given how close Jane becomes to them.  But later Jane does describe her talks with them as a “pleasure arising from perfect congeniality of tastes, sentiments, and principles.”

I feel like Diana and Mary are the perfect culmination of female relationships for Jane - encompassing and reinforcing all her previous experiences.  They are kind and welcoming to her, they teach and inspire her, and Jane finds happiness in conversing with them.  

Conclusion

So after considering all of these female relationships in Jane Eyre, I feel like Phillipa Gregory is a little too effusive.  For the most part they do build up Jane’s character in positive ways, and show Jane how to be loving, understanding, and strong.  But despite the fact that Jane’s two prominent male relationships - Mr. Rochester and St. John -  both have quite a few issues, I don’t think Jane’s experiences with the female characters are the “loving, spiritually aware heart of the book.”  Her relationship with Mr. Rochester is just too strong and her experiences with female characters were not always positive and loving.  

[the-quiet-winds]

As another person who writes all the time about the LiW, I just wanna say you’re such a huge inspiration to me. But also, consider this: What if the reason Bessie is so motherly towards Maggie is because she had a daughter named Margaret? And, although it’s said she died of tuberculosis, her biographer said she died during childbirth while having Margaret. So what if Bessie sees her baby girl in Maggie? Like, she believes Maggie is the daughter she never got to meet, but now she is

anon.

how dare you present something to me so fucking magical and perfect.

i love it.

[elizabethsblount]

@vxdegruchy

 “God help us all.” She spewed religious chagrin to assuage the deepening hole of despair which grew in depth with each waking moment. Every soul she held close to her breast in the act of love was present at court; save for her littlest darlings, tucked away from the now savage festivities. Any plot to take the life of the royal Henry seemed bound to pass to her own boy, who was bound  to inherit each misfortune that struck the Tudor family. Bessie was resigned to not weep, no matter how fiercely tears prickled against her eyes. She turned her marred gaze to the earthly angel beside her; the halo of spun gold seemed dulled by the weight of their situation. It was only natural for Bessie to admire such a fair creature with her whole heart. Her affections were not due solely to the sum of gifts she had been endowed with; oval cheeks, fresh and smooth, ornamented with rich tresses and soft lips - indeed,  Violette would be easily loved only for the sum of her features. But Bessie was drawn to the endless love that poured from the pert lips in favor of her husband, which mirrored the affections within her own heart for a myriad of souls, past and present. They had enjoyed the quiet, gentle, company two women may offer one another. Prattling over the state of the courts and the inner-workings of their private lives, neither one had the least suspicion the day would collapse inwards on the trick of a hat. Bessie found herself breathless for several moments, trying to register the gravity of the situation with the capacity her heart possessed to deal with such an event. It took time for her to settle into a semblance of ease, to at least reach for her companion in motherly affection, inviting the darling to seek whatever comfort she desired, against her beating heart. “Ma puce, we shall weather this storm as one - I do not wish to offer false idols, but I believe with all my heart that everything shall be, for lack of a greater word, okay.” 

[indigowallbreaker]

my favorite trans headcanon is Stephanie as a trans girl and Bessie as a trans woman, it's really cute to imagine Bessie helping Stephanie, also is a good explanation of why Stephanie don't go back to her home, maybe they don't accept her or maybe they preffer that Stephanie stays around her uncle because he knows more about it

I love the “Bessie is Trans” hc so much. Partially bc as the only adult woman in town, I feel like she could be closer to Trixie and Stephanie than she is in the show (not like in a motherly way, just as like a “girls gotta stick together” way). This would be a great thing to connect over with Stephanie if Steph were also trans.

There is also this post floating around, which talks about Stephanie wearing pink out of spite because she was always told not to wear it cuz it’s a “girl color”. Imagine she learns Bessie is also trans and one day she blurts out “then why do you dye your hair BLUE? It’s a boy color!” And Bessie very firmly goes “I’m not going to let my gender stop me from wearing any color! Besides, blue looks amazing on me.” And Stephanie slowly starts wearing “boy colors” every once in a while when she feels like it because dammit, these blue sneakers are so comfy!

I also like your idea that Steph’s parents send her to Lazytown bc they don’t know much about being trans and want their daughter to have support but let’s take it a step further- the school/students/neighborhood back home is very transphobic and Steph’s been having problems even without actually coming out to anyone. The family can’t move bc of her parents’ jobs so until they CAN move, Stephanie goes to live with her Uncle so she can be happy and safe.

It’s easy to write off Stephanie’s parents as mean (since they have never mention in the show, it’s easy to say they’re dead or mean) but the idea that they sent their daughter away for the greater good is a bit more tragic to me. 

But Stephanie makes friends, meets Bessie, and the whole town loves her and she’s so happy ;;_;; 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Love For Love By Love Of Love

Kinda short- only 2106 words but!! Enjoy some soft Nana Boleyn!

(As in- Read Anne as Courtney!Anne, not Millie!Anne because Millie!Anne would never do any of this)

———————

Anne could hear the roars of laughter in the dressing room all the way from the bathroom she was walking out of, which made her pick up her pace so she wouldn’t miss what was going on. She couldn’t even imagine what the others were giggling about- right before she left they were trying to recover from Cathy’s beautiful comment, “Don’t fist my hoop” after Anne herself tried to fit her entire fist in the blue queen’s hoop earring, but they could have moved onto something entirely different by then. Anything could happen on a Live, especially when it was Anne, Kitty, and Cleves there. Cathy was supposed to be leveling them out, but she got roped into their antics almost instantly.

On her way back to the Live, however, something caught Anne’s attention. She stopped and peeked her head into one of the dressing rooms to see a blonde girl sitting at a desk against the far wall. Her head kept sagging downwards in the motion people did when they were nodding off but kept jerking awake, but it was clear she wasn’t all too there in reality at the moment. She was shaking, too, which made a deep maternal instinct spark inside of Anne.

Some people were surprised to find that she had such a thing, what with her gremlin-like stage persona and wild attitude that came with it, but they forgot that she had been a mother herself. Even if it was for a short time, a motherly instinct formed and the urge to care for the younger and inferior still lingered after reincarnation. Usually it only came out for Kitty, but this time felt different. When she cared for Kitty, she viewed her as a sister, but when she was looking at this girl...

It felt like she was looking at a lost child without their mother.

A child that she wanted to help.

Anne quietly stepped into the room and approached the girl- Joan, the show’s music director. Upon getting a closer look, she saw that she was, in fact, not really conscious, despite her eyelids still fluttering slightly. She was leaning over some paperwork, head bobbing in an effort to stay away that wasn’t really working for her. She didn’t come to when Anne gently nudges her side.

Anne pursed her lips, thinking. Then, without a second thought, she takes off her soft pink robe and wrapped it around Joan’s trembling shoulders.

With a small smile, Anne quietly walks out and returns to the dressing room where the Live is happening.

“What happened to your robe?” Kitty asked curiously as her cousin sat back down beside her.

“I got hot so I took it off,” Anne replied, despite it being rather chilly inside the theater. The others didn’t pay it much attention, though, and went back to their shenanigans, which apparently was now a question and answer session.

“Okay, Annie, what’s a weird fear you have?” Kitty suddenly asked, probing her cousin in the side with a bright pink nail.

“What brought this on?” Anne laughed.

“We’re doing a Q&A!” Cathy said, readjusting the phone.

“And when did that start?”

“Just now! Now answer the question!” Kitty prodded the green queen again, making her squirm away with a small laugh.

“Okay, okay! Hmm...” She thought for a moment. “I don’t think I have a fear that’s considered weird. Does not liking the texture of soggy bread count?”

“How often do you run into a situation where soggy bread is your main problem?” Cathy laughed.

“You’d be surprised!”

“Bessie is afraid of mannequins.”

All heads turned to Cleves. Question marks and laughing emojis flashed through the chat, among the huge barrage of comments from the many viewers. Kitty tilted her head while Cathy and Anne both snorted.

“Really?” Kitty giggled.

“Yeah!” Cleves nodded. “She said they made her uncomfortable. Gave her weird vibes. She doesn’t like when they’re behind her.” She tittered.

Laughter rebounded through the room at that.

“Yeah, you’re really exposing your girlfriend here, Anna,” Anne said, referencing a comment that pointed that out.

Cleves merely shrugged. “It’s my job! I’ll pay her back for it later.” She smirked and Kitty squealed, swatting at her knee, while Cathy and Anne groaned.

“Keep it PG, Anna!” Cathy barked playfully. “We have children watching!”

“Oh, shut up! We don’t do anything!”

“Oh my god,” Anne said to the side, amazed that they were actually yelling over the possibility of a couple doing a very normal thing like sex on a live with hundreds of people watching. She laughed.

And that’s when she noticed something.

Someone standing in the doorway.

It was Joan!

The girl had one hand on the doorframe, presumably to keep her balance because she was swaying slightly. Her hair was a completely mess, frizzled up like she had rubbed a balloon on her head just before walking into the room, and her eyes were half open and looked very tired. In her free hand she was holding Anne’s robe.

“Hey, Joan,” Anne greeted with a smile.

The other three turned to face the music director. The phone wasn’t angled to where the door could be seen, so confused comments were made in the chat, some even asking who “Joan” was.

“I— Hi.” Joan said after a moment. She blinked several times, probably trying to clear up her hazy vision of wake herself up a little more. “I just— I wanted to return this.” She held out the robe.

Kitty looked at her cousin confusedly. “I thought you put it away?”

Anne ignored her comment and got up to take the robe from Joan.

“I don’t know how I got it...” The girl said as she did so.

“You looked cold, so I put it around you.” Anne clarified.

Upon hearing that, Joan’s cheeks flashed pink and she looked away shyly.

“Oh. Th-thank you.” She mumbled.

“It’s no problem,” Anne glanced back at the other three. “Hey, why don’t you come sit with us?”

Joan looked surprised at the offer. Her head snapped up and her mouth opened and closed stupidly for a moment before she just nodded sheepishly. Anne grinned at her agreement and took her smaller, colder hand in her own, leading her over to where she had been sitting on the floor.

“Everyone! We have a new friend!” She announced, sitting back down at her spot. Joan kneels next to her, then fully sat down after she wasn’t told by anyone to leave.

A few comments were made about the new girl’s arrival- “Who is that?” “That’s Joan, right?” “she’s kinda cute no cap,,” “Whoaaaa she looks like Jane!!” “Why her hair so yellow tho” “is she even awake??”- but none were barking at her to leave and stop ruining the queen’s Live, which was good. Anne didn’t expect anyone to say such a thing, but you never know with the queendom.

The game of questions and answers quickly resumed. One viewer asked what everyone’s favorite animals were and after all the queens answered (“Snake!” “Owl!” “Dog!” “Also dog!”) Anne gently patted Joan’s knee, rousing her from her half asleep state.

“Huh?” Joan blinked, looking around.

“What’s your favorite animal?” Anne asked. She picked up on the girl’s obvious exhaustion and made a mental note to keep checking on her in case she got worse.

“My favorite-? Oh!” Joan finally understood. Her ears, which are adorably poking out from her unruly hair, flame red from how long it took her to process something so simple. “Umm... I like sheep.” She admitted shyly. Her hands fidget anxiously in her lap. “Hedgehogs, too.”

Anne nodded with a smile. Her heart was fluttering in a way that hadn’t happened since Elizabeth...

She thought back to when she first met Joan. The girl was so young, so thin, and so very tiny. It was a wonder she even got the job as a maid in waiting, and everyone assumed she would either end up quitting or getting removed for bad work, but she stuck around for the full three years of Anne’s reign. She was a clumsy little thing, yes. Not really good at most things- her sewing was a mess, she always managed to overcomplicate the laces on Anne’s dress when she helped her get changed, she dropped things and stumbled over her own two feet, stuttered, couldn’t really dance, and she had a hard time staying awake during court, but she was absolutely brilliant with music. Anne still remembered the first time she heard her play the harpsichord.

Ten minutes of giggles and silly questions pass. Joan is no longer answering, although her answers were sparse and whispered, so they usually went unheard. Anne turned to the girl after seeing a brief comment that said “is she asleep??” and saw that Joan had, in fact, nodded off.

In her current position, Joan was either going to slump forward and smack into the ground (which is something the poor thing would NEVER be able to live down, especially when the caught on a Live), lean back and fall over (which is something else her self esteem would drill itself into the ground for), or have really had neck and back pain when she woke up, so, without really thinking it through, Anne coiled her arms around the girl’s waist and slowly and subtly began pulling her into her grasp.

“Yikes, you’re light,” She muttered, finding it much easier to secure the music director in her lap than she was expecting. She made a second mental note to invite Joan over for dinner later so she can get something in her stomach.

Her action of moving Joan didn’t go unnoticed- the comments were blowing up with curious observations: “What is she doing??” “Anne, why are you doing that?” “whats going on?” “i just got here. what’s the tea?” “Awww!” “Mama Anne Boleyn????”

They were stupid and silly little things that people couldn’t keep to themselves. Anne just ignored them and hauled Joan completely into her lap, then began adjusting her position.

Joan was at an angle where her legs slung over one of Anne’s thighs, since she was sitting crisscross. Anne cups the back of her skull and brings her head down to rest on her chest, which is immediately nuzzled into like a kitten seeking warmth. After a momentary glance at the phone, Anne grabs her robe and wraps it around Joan, making sure her face was covered so she couldn’t be gawked at while dozing.

“So,” Anne said after her work was done. “What’s the next question?”

The other three had definitely been staring at her through the whole process, but she didn’t really care. They didn’t say anything about it, so it was fine.

“Uhh— Oh! Here’s one!” Cathy said, getting back into the swing of things. “Funniest things to happen while onstage?”

“Oh!” Cleves perked up. “That one time Bessie couldn’t stop sneezing during Heart of Stone and Jane actually stopped singing to wait for her to finish!”

“Is every answer you say going to be about her?” Kitty teased.

“Hsst!” Cleves hissed with a playful glare. “I love my girlfriend, alright! And it was funny!”

“It was,” Anne agreed. She felt something and looked down as Cathy went on to tell the story of when Maria accidentally launched one of her drumsticks across the stage. Joan was nuzzling closer to her, making adorable sleepy noises that melted her heart.

She’s just a little cuddlebug, She thought. Cuddle...sheep? Cuddlesheep? Cuddlelamb!

She slowly reached a hand under the robe to brush Joan’s cheek and the girl presses into it.

She’s so touch starved...

Anne wrapped her arms around Joan, slowly and comfortingly rubbing her back with one hand, and continued the Q&A like that.

“Secretariat was a good movie!” Cleves was arguing.

“How am I supposed to enjoy a movie that I can’t even spell the name of?!” Kitty snapped back.

“You’re just dumb!”

Kitty gasped.

“You take that back!!”

“Mmmm-!!”

The muffled noise comes from below Anne and she looks down, peeking slightly beneath the robe to see Joan’s eyes were shut tighter and she was trying to completely burrow her face into her chest. She appeared to be disturbed by all the noise.

“Hey, guys,” She said. “Can you lower your voices, please?”

The other three once again blink at her, but nod and continued the playful argument quietly. She smiled in thanks and went back to observing the sleeping girl in her arms, now rocking slowly, noting the way she was gripping the robe with one of her small, bony hands.

Anne had a feeling she wasn’t going to get the robe back, but, honestly, she didn’t really care.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

when you’re gone i’ll still be Bloody Mary

oof everything but the fight isn’t my best and you can tell i got bored and started rushing at the end BUT!! here is today’s fic! i hope it makes you mad!

Title from Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga

Word count: 5024

TW: Violence, blood, asphyxiation

———————

For better or for worse, the kids were alive and well again, and ever since then, the queens have changed. Everyone has noticed it- the sudden shift in behavior and attitude caught a lot of attention. Suddenly, they lost all their personality and just became a slave to the maternal mentality that awakens in their brains at the sight of their children.

First, there was Anne and Elizabeth. They didn’t look alike at all- Anne with her chocolate brown hair done in spacebuns and Elizabeth looking as if she was Merida from Brave- but they shared a similar gremlin-like gene. Anne was probably the least overbearing with her motherly attitude- she was still very much caring and loving, but she gave her daughter space and let her do whatever she wanted...which wasn’t exactly a good thing. Elizabeth had way too much freedom, especially towards Maggie, who would always get very quiet when the girl came around her. But Maggie tried, tried to be happy to see the girl again, and tried to be happy for her best friend, but her smile was very tight and forced, and pain would always flicker in her eyes whenever she saw the two together. She was dreading the worst- waiting for the sword hanging over Anne’s head to finally fall again.

Then there was Jane and Edward. Unlike her predecessor, Jane was extremely overbearing with the whole mum thing. She was always checking on her son, making sure he was happy and that everything was okay, and she pampered him constantly. Somehow, Edward didn’t seem to mind at all. He was basically living in the lap of luxury. Not even Kitty was bothered by this! She was just happy to finally get to be the big sibling in the family.

Thirdly, and most surprising, there was Cathy and Mae. The toddler actually appearing was a huge shocker to everyone, especially Cathy, but she took up responsibility for her daughter very quickly. She was very patient with the little girl, unlike Bessie, who had to leave the room whenever Mae would cry or even simply just giggle. Every time this happened, Cathy’s rage built up a little higher. It wouldn’t be long until she finally blew her top.

Finally, there was Aragon and Mary. It was easy to know that they were related; Mary seemed to get everything from her mouth when it came to looks- skin tone, eyes, hair, height, jawline, nose. However, there was one thing Mary inherited from her father: his bloodlust. Aragon, of course, didn’t acknowledge what her daughter had done at all. She was sheltering her mind from the crime, pretending it doesn’t exist because, to her, it didn’t if nobody brought it up. So nobody did.

Seeing all the kids was weird again, but Mary was by far the strangest, or at least to Joan. Mary appeared to be sixteen, maybe fifteen, so it was odd seeing her younger than Joan, but Joan pushed that aside and just tried to befriend the girl. After all, they had a common interest- having Aragon as a mother. Or, well, mother figure in Joan’s case. It wasn’t official yet.

“Hey, Mary!”

After everything was settled with the kid’s arrival was when Joan decided to make her move. She didn’t want to hold out much longer or it may seem impolite of her.

Mary turned to Joan, and Joan got a sudden bad feeling as she approached her further, like she was a sheep walking right into the den of a hungry hyena.

And now that it was mentioned, Mary kinda did look like a hyena. If Joan concentrated enough, she could almost smell the pungent, rank scent of death that clung to the girl as it did to the scavengers.

“Uhh. Hey.” Mary said. She was looking at Joan as if she were a dirty peasant clambering into her throne room. “And you are...?”

“Joan.” Joan said. “I’m the music director and pianist. Aragon and I are friends!”

Mary squinted at Joan. “Are you sure? Mother doesn’t mention you.”

“Well- maybe not as a friend, per se.” Joan scuffed her foot against the ground, trying her best not to do a giddy little happy dance as she said, “She- well, she sees me as a daughter!”

Mary blinked.

And then she started laughing.

The image of a hyena floated back to the surface as she did so- her laugh is barking and shrill. It grates Joan’s ears like barbed claws or scorpion stingers.

“You?” Mary asked for confirmation.

Now slightly flustered, Joan nodded.

Mary laughed again.

“Oh, that is adorable!” She wiped her eyes with a slim finger that seemed more like a talon. “Seriously, that is just too cute! My mother! Being yours!” Another chortle.

“It’s true!” Joan squeaked. Her voice is pitching and wavering slightly, which doesn’t help her case at all.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Mary said. “In your dreams, maybe. Why would Mother ever want you as her daughter? What makes you so special?” She tilted her head at Joan, and Joan just managed by the skin of her teeth to not squirm under her gaze. It felt like the ex-princess was sizing her up....estimating how big the wooden stakes would need to be when she set her ablaze.

“I-”

“Actually,” Mary cut her off. “don’t answer that! No offense, but I don’t care.”

She swung around to leave, not giving Joan a chance to defend herself.

“Thanks for the laugh, June!”

She walked off, disappearing further into the theater and leaving Joan alone.

“...My name is Joan.”

———

It’s been five months since that first interaction, and Joan swore Mary had something against her. She always saw the girl glaring at her from a distance, like she was imagining how good her head would look on the end of a flaming torch.

It gave Joan the creeps, to say the least.

But it didn’t end there. Mary began to torment and taunt Joan constantly- whether it being teasing or purposely making her fuck up somehow, Mary tried to make Joan’s life a living hell. And when she tried to tell Aragon, the queen got mad. Like, really pissed off. Joan doesn’t tell her about the harassment anymore. Especially when she got terribly ill the next day.

The thought that Mary somehow poisoned her for snitching scares her even more.

What’s worse: Aragon was starting to spend a lot less time with Joan. That was natural, of course, but Joan’s jealousy just couldn’t handle it. Especially when it was Mary getting all the queen’s attention.

But what could she do? Aragon would never choose Mary over her.

———

The sound of her dressing room door shutting and the lock clicking snapped Joan out of her workaholic reverie. She snapped around and was startled to find Mary standing there, her hands pressed together and folded neatly against her stomach.

(Joan remembers something about the princess having several pregnancy issues. She wonders if those still exist within her after reincarnation, and if they’re the reason she’s so bitchy.)

“Can I help you?” Joan said impatiently. She didn’t have time or the coffee to deal with this right now- she had work to do.

“Yes, actually,” Mary said. She crossed the room in just a few quick strides; her movements were poised and confident- she knew what she was doing. “I just wanted to talk to you about Mother.”

“What about her?” Joan asked cautiously. Red flags are already going off in her head, if the fact that the ex-princess locked the door wasn’t enough to tell her that this situation seemed sketchy.

“Back off.”

“What?”

“Back off of Mother.” Mary said. Her voice is still languid and smooth, but there’s now an underlying firmness to it- a drop of poison in the honeyed words.

Joan didn’t know why she thought for even a split second that this was going to be a truce or an opportunity to finally make friends with the princess. She should have known she was walking right into Mary’s flaming claws.

“You know she never actually loved you, right?” Mary went on. “You didn’t believe it, did you? Be honest.”

Joan bit her tongue until she could taste blood. Her fingers clenched into fists, which Mary glanced at. The princess smirked.

“Of course you did.” She said. “I can’t blame you. You have nothing. Someone as meaningless and worthless as you has to cling to whatever they can get their hands on. It’s quite entertaining. Like dangling a carrot on a stick in front of you!”

“You’re lying,” Joan growled. She drove her fingernails into her palms even deeper until she felt the skin break open. “Aragon— She didn’t say that. She wouldn’t.”

“I’m not.” Mary said smoothly. “Why would I lie to you, Joan? You know I don’t care enough about you to do that. God, just standing here and talking to you makes me worry that I’m gonna get some of your desperation and neediness rubbed off on me!” She laughed like a hyena. It hurts Joan’s ears.

Joan can’t reply. She can’t do anything but sit there and take the insults hurled at her. She does, however, flinch back in her chair when Mary walks right up to her and gently cupped her cheek.

Her touch feels like fire.

“I have to thank you, though,” Mary crooned in a way a mother would when talking to their child, her voice like sickly sweet venom. “For taking care of my mother. But there’s no need anymore.” She pats Joan’s cheek. “There’s no use for you any longer. So why don’t you do us all a favor and just go crawl into the hole you came out of and die.”

Joan’s breath hitched slightly. She lowered her head so Mary couldn’t see the glisten in her eyes, but she knew she did from the sneer above her.

And that’s what made the rage bubble up.

Joan’s anger was not a hot, volcanic thing, but rather a cold, resentful feeling that ran in her blood for a long time. Her chest would turn icy and she suddenly couldn’t care about anyone else. Only justice for her broken self esteem.

She grabbed Mary by the wrist and yanked her hand off of her cheek. This startles the princess, who staggers back for a moment, then narrows her eyes. Her other hand comes around fast and slaps Joan hard across the face.

Like that, something in Joan’s brain sparked to life. An instinct she didn’t even know she had in her. It told her to fight.

( “We may be thieves, but we aren’t killers,” Her brother had once said. Ironically, he was sharpening an iron pick at the time. “But if you feel your life's on the line, Joan, you fight back. Whether you like it or not, to you, your life is the most important thing in this world. Not mine, not any of your friend’s, your own. You should protect it.”

“Where should I hit someone?” Joan had asked. She remembered shifting anxiously after asking it.

Her brother thought for a moment, tapping the pointy pick against his chin. Then, he smiled.

“The knees or stomach. Then get them in the jaw to incapacitate them. Your nails and teeth are also your greatest allies.” His eyes went dark for a moment. “But...if you fear they’re trying to kill you, then go for the throat and don’t let go.”)

Mary didn’t see Joan coming, even when glowering right at her. She hadn’t been expecting her prey to spring out of the chair and barrel into her at full speed, but here she was, being driven back against the nearby makeup table, watching tabletop items scatter and clatter in various directions in slow motion, before senses returned to her in a flash and she felt the sparks that shot up her and alerted her brain of the threat.

Joan had her hands on Mary’s shoulders and one knee wedged between her legs, the plated bone pressing uncomfortably against the sensitive bundle of nerves her thighs would usually shield from harm. She pushed backwards, causing Mary’s back to bend against the table edge in a way that made it feel like her spine would snap if she didn’t get away quickly.

The princess squirmed, then finally got her arms free. She shoved against Joan’s chest, which caused her to stumble back slightly. It was enough of a chance for Mary, as she took her turn to do the ramming.

Both girls collapsed to the floor in a wondrous heap, where they tousled like angry cats. It was an awkward, but deadly dance they did on the floor until they ripped away and scuttled away for air. Scratches gleamed red and pink on their sweaty faces, like they just got into a fight with a sentient knife and lost. Bits of blood and flecks of skin cling beneath their nails.

“So you do have some fight in you,” Mary panted. If she was trying to make Joan angrier, it was definitely working. “I’m impressed.”

“I don’t quite appreciate compliments from murderers.” Joan grit.

Something flashed in Mary’s eyes- guilt? Terror? Trauma? For a split second, she almost looked like she felt bad for what she had done and what she was doing now. Joan could almost see a girl in there who felt guilty about everything, and who maybe understood why it had been wrong.

But that girl was never going to be the one anyone saw.

“I am not!” Mary shrilled. “I was saving my people from those—those leeches!”

“Saving them?” Joan scoffed. She struggles to her feet, feeling the scratches scattered across her body lighting up with fresh pain. “Is that what you call burning their friends to death?”

Mary bared her teeth. Joan flashes her own right back.

“Shut up!” Mary snapped. “You weren’t there, so you have no idea what I had to do or why I had to do it!”

“Why are you acting like this?” Joan said. “You have another chance! You can redeem yourself! Why are you wasting it by acting like such a bitch?!”

Mary lunged at Joan. Joan sidestepped just in time to avoid being rammed, but Mary moved again, too. She whipped around and drove her fist into Joan’s stomach.

All the breath in Joan’s lungs left her in a whoosh and a spray of saliva droplets that splattered onto Mary’s yellow-and-violet striped shirt. She staggered backwards, snaking her arms around her aching stomach tightly, and her knees buckled underneath her.

She’s had the wind knocked out of her more than once and she knew that in a few moments, she’d be fine again—or as fine as someone who’d just been socked in the gut could possibly be—but this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation where she had moments to spare for breath-catching.

And on top of that, the human body had a tendency to freak out when it couldn’t breathe. Like, a lot.

She choked and spluttered, mouthing like a fish out of water as she tried to pull air into lungs that just weren’t ready to get back on their feet yet. Through the oxygen-deprived haze that was covering her vision, she saw Mary’s bloodthirsty expression return to confidence, like Joan’s struggle for air sated her hunger for suffering for now. But it would be back.

It was only really then that Joan realized what she had gotten herself into.

Joan knew that she wasn’t going to get away from this bitch if she relied completely on pure strength. Mary was taller and stronger than she was, plus she was fueled by insanity, which seemed to supply her with an endless stream of energy. She wasn’t knowledgeable in combat by any means, but if Lara Croft has taught her anything, it’s that you need to use tactics.

That thought of a possible plan was cut short, however, when Mary knocked her to the ground.

Pain rattled up Joan’s spine when she hit the floor. Fingers close around her throat; Mary was on her. Her hips are straddled and she’s pinned to the floor. She was being choked. She could feel the princess’ thumbs press down on her airways.

“Stop struggling!” Mary growled. “Just let it take you.”

Joan gags helplessly, clawing at the fingers around her throat. Even when she scratches Mary’s hands to bloodied shreds, she still doesn’t let go. She tries to gouge the princess’ eyes out, but her eyelids prove to be a strong barrier above the sockets, which she so desperately wanted to sink her nails into. Mary wrings her neck when she doesn’t stop and Joan choked, feeling pops and crackles shooting down her spinal cord.

“There we go...” Mary cooed when she saw Joan’s head flop to the side. She was still gasping like a fish out of water, but it wouldn’t be long, now. “Good girl.” She spoke to the music director as if she were a dog or one of her dead babies. “Such a good girl...”

Joan made a pathetic squeaking wheeze, which made Mary croon down at her alarmingly blue face pitifully.

“I would stroke your hair to help you along if I could,” Mary said. “But I can’t. I have to say, though, you are very obedient. Well trained. You make it too easy!”

Joan’s eyes were starting to roll back into her skull. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth, suddenly feeling like a block of heavy lead. The ice in her veins is smothered by Mary’s fire. It lights in her chest and incinerates her lungs to smoldering ashes. Her throat is being burned open from the princess’ burning touch.

This was it. She was about to die. In just a few moments, Joan’s strength would deplete, her neck would snap, and she would be just another body on Mary’s growing pile.

Then, it would all be over.

Cinders are stoked through all of Joan’s nerves, numbing them in a terrible, blistering way and rendering them useless. Her arms now lie outstretched, sprawled aimlessly across the floor. There, her fingers twitch against something.

Mary began to twist Joan’s neck back in a sickening, horrible way. She keeps her victim’s throat wrenched and was just about to snap it like she would a little bird when something sharp and pointy is stabbed into her lower stomach.

Mary shouts as zigzags of pain shot through her abdomen. She ripped her hands back to instinctively shield her stomach, as if she thought there may be a baby in her womb that she needed to protect. Instead, she just found a large thumbtack sticking out of her belly.

“You bitch!!” Mary shrieked at Joan, who was struggling to catch her breath.

She pulled the thumbtack out with a small squeak and her eyes widened at the sight of the glistening red blood that coated the tip.

Like before, a very guilty person appears in her eyes, and even on her face this time. She watched her blood slide down the length of the needle and drip off in thick droplets.

Drip, drip, drip...

Joan reared up like a furious ram, horns gleaming in the fluorescent lights, and slammed her entire body into Mary.

They both go down, but there’s a lot less scratching this time. Mary is jarred out of her trance and is momentarily stunned because of it. Joan lands sprawled on top of her, out of breath from that small effort alone. Her lungs and trachea just weren’t ready for that much action yet.

Still. She didn’t have any time to wait around, even as black spots fluttered across her vision each time she simply took a breath.

So, the one little part of her brain that was smarter than the rest of it was, the part that only seemed to awaken when she was in immediate danger or dying, spontaneously came back to life and drifted in over the panicked alarm bells in her head like the calm voice of the pilot’s intercom over the clamor of a falling plane full of hysterical passengers.

It was her brother’s voice.

“Joan. Do you know how much bacteria is in a human bite?”

She blinked her eyes.

Well. He wasn’t wrong.

“OWWW!!!” Mary howled as Joan clamped her teeth down on her ear. She could feel the incisors grinding against the earlobe and her golden hoop earring shifting uncomfortably. “What the FUCK?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Even in her pained and oxygen deprived daze, even when she couldn’t take in any air as she bites down, even as someone else’s blood seeped into her mouth, Joan still managed a small smirk.

Bet you've never got your ear bitten before, She thought. Bitch.

Mary keened in pain, smothering her face against the tile floor. She couldn’t do anything but writhe with Joan on top of her. But it’s clear Joan was getting a little cocky and that she seemed to forget how clever psychopaths really were.

Not that a tabletop mirror lying nearby made Mary clever.

The entire right side of Joan’s head exploded into bright, colorful bursts of pain as the mirror smashed against it. The glass shattered and shards are driven into her scalp. Joan swayed and then slumped over, and Mary gave her the shove she needed to fully topple to the ground.

Mary scampered backwards and then gingerly felt her ear. It was bloody and already starting to swell up. Her earring was missing, too, leaving her earlobe split in two.

Silence filled the ransacked room- aside from Joan’s moans and raspy breathing, of course.

Then, Mary laughed.

“So what if I killed a few people?” She said as she shakily rose up to her feet. “Some people have to die for others to thrive! I was just…trimming out the fat! Culling the weak! It’s what you have to do to survive in this world.”

Joan just barely managed to look up at her. There’s twin streams of blood running down one side of her face. One crosses over her eye.

“Let me put it like this,” Mary said, sensing her disbelief. “Say you and the other ladies in waiting and queens were in...the apocalypse. Alright? And there’s a group of people who want to take this food supply you found. They’re innocent, but they’re not backing down and you and your group are starving. So...” She twirled her wrist. “You do what you need to do to survive and keep those of greater value alive.”

Joan shook her head as she braced herself on her arms. Her elbows shake treacherously, barely holding her up.

“You don’t...” She wheezed out. Consciousness wavered away from her for a moment. She thought she heard the doorknob wiggle, but it was just nothing. “You can’t...think...like that.” She finally said, each word punctuated with a wince, moan, or heavy gasp. “It’s not...right...”

“If you haven’t noticed, dear, nothing is right in this world. Not anymore.” Mary said.

“No thanks...to you,” Joan grit, and then was delivered a teeth-shattering blow to her jaw.

Mary stood over the girl. She lifts the leg she used to kick Joan with and stepped on her stomach. Bending the knee, the princess applied all her pressure onto Joan’s midriff, weighing her to the ground.

“Joey, this hurts me as much as it hurts you.” She said in that crooning, hyena voice of hers. “But you have to make sacrifices sometimes. You’re just dragging everyone here down. Nobody even looks at you anymore. I’m doing you a favor by putting you down.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Joan spat.

She lifted her head and Mary struck as fast as a bullwhip, pressing it back down to the ground.

“Don’t talk over me!” Mary snapped, her pitch raising slightly. She cleared her throat. “Everything will be fine. You’re just a little blind right now. I’m helping you!”

“That’s what they all say,” Joan gurgled. “But you’ll probably get all wrapped up in killing all over again and burn the whole theater to the ground, you fucking pyro. You’d love to watch this place go up in flames and then you’ll dance on the ashes while listening to the screams of-”

“I said to not talk over me!” Mary yelled, reaching down and digging her fingernails into the red hot crevices on the back of Joan’s head. She watches in amusement as blood comes frothing out of Joan’s mouth, which is hanging open in a silent scream.

Some of that blood sprays out slightly when her lips move to form words.

“I know...your reign...smelled like...burned flesh.” She hissed out.

Mary’s mouth pulled back in a snarl.

“You don’t know anything!”

She drops Joan’s head and steps back, letting her writhe on the floor like a stabbed snake. Then, she pulls a lighter out of her pocket and runs her thumb over the smooth sides as if she thought doing such an action would calm her.

“You barely even know me.” She growled. “Nobody does! People look at me like I’m some sort of demon! Do you know what that is like?”

“It’s what you deserve,” Joan croaked. “Because you are one.”

Mary’s eyes flash. Something in her head has cracked open and every bad thing in her twisted brain is now spilling out like thousands of spiders.

“You know, I was just messing with you before. I wasn’t actually going to let you choke to death.” She said. “But now? Now I’m going to fucking kill you.” She flicked the lighter open and watched the small flame burst to life. “And when I’m done, nobody is ever going to find you.”

Mary leaned down, holding the flame dangerously close to one of Joan’s cloudy eyes.

“Any last words?”

Joan’s last words aren’t really words, per se, rather a mouthful of blood she spits in Mary’s eyes.

The princess reared back in surprise and claws her face as if she thought she had been sprayed with acid. That’s enough for Joan to gather all her strength, draw her legs back, and then drive her foot right into Mary’s knees.

Watching the princess crumple and fall like a broken doll was the highlight of Joan’s entire day. She couldn’t celebrate, though, because she knew Mary would be getting up soon, so she scrambled over to the broken tabletop mirror, raised it over her head, and—

The door flew open.

A scream.

Several screams.

There’s a whizz of gold- Aragon is rushing in. But not towards Joan, who is substantially the more injured one of the two. No, instead, she’s shoved roughly to the side and that’s finally what her conscious needed to cut out.

———

Joan awoke to blinding pain. She was moaning before she could even get her eyes open, which were much heavier than they normally were. She tried to pry them open, but that effort alone nearly made her pass out again. A muddled voice speaks to her...she thinks it’s telling her to calm down.

Something stings against Joan’s head. She whimpers sharply and tries to squirm away, but she can’t move.

“Hey. Sit still.”

Joan moaned again. She can taste copper on her tongue. It makes her stomach churn.

“Joan. Please sit still.”

Her eyes open. Light stabs into them, but she manages to make out the figure of Anne sitting beside her. She blinks dazedly at the woman.

“A...Anne...?” She croaked. Her throat hurt so much. Every word seemed to make it cave in on itself until she felt like she was choking on the syllables and enunciation.

“Hush.” Anne said. There wasn’t even a flicker of goofiness in her at that moment- her face was completely stoney and serious. “Don’t speak.”

“Wh...what...” Joan spoke anyway.

“I said, don’t talk, Joan. You’re hurt.” Anne said. “I shouldn’t even be doing this after what you did, but—”

Her voice cut off. Joan blinked up at her and saw that she’s staring at her neck.

Anne gagged. Joan’s eyes widen in alarm as the woman sprints out of the room with one hand over her mouth. She waits, but Anne does not come back.

Joan rolled off of the couch she’s lying on, recognizing the room she’s in as the shared dressing room between Cathy, Jane, and Kitty. She staggered over to the mirror, feeling like her head was about to explode with every step she took, and looked at what exactly made Anne feel so sick:

The dark, near-black bruise that encircled the entirety of her neck in the horrifying shape of hands.

—

Joan didn’t know how long she laid on that couch, feeling like her brain was oozing out through every orifice. In reality, it was probably only thirty minutes, but it was like an eternity to her before Aragon walked in.

Joan tensed, flinched, and waited to be hit or arrested by a swarm of cops that had been called, but Aragon just sits beside her head. She’s only glanced at for a moment.

“Elizabeth told me everything.” Aragon said grimly. “What Mary said...and did.”

So Joan had heard someone outside the door.

“I...I’m sorry, Joan.” Aragon whispered. “I’m so sorry... I thought she would be good this time. If I just raised her right, then she wouldn’t be the same and everyone could forget about what she did, but...”

She looked down at Joan- at the horrible bruise around her throat. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh my god...” She whispered. It’s obvious she didn’t think the wounds were that bad. “Oh, Joan... Oh, my sweet baby girl...”

She covered her face with her hands and began to cry, but didn’t dare touch Joan. It’s like she was scared of hurting her, too.

Joan watched her mother figure weep before gathering her strength and crawling forward so she could rest her head in Aragon’s lap. The queen gasps softly in surprise and then wraps Joan in her arms, sort of forgetting to be gentle.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Aragon sobbed. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t know— I didn’t—”

Joan can’t speak, so she just nuzzles Aragon as best as she could.

“We’ll get you help, baby.” Aragon told her. “I’m going to call the police. Mary will never lay a finger on you again, I promise.”

“Mama...” Joan choked out, head spinning.

“I’m right here, sweet girl.” Aragon said as she dialed the emergency line.

“999, what’s your emergency?” The operator answered.

“Please, I need an ambulance.” Aragon begged. “My daughter was attacked.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

hate me, hate me, still tryna replace me

I’ve gotten several asks to go back to writing Jane and Kitty mother-daughter content so I’m finally obliging! Hope you guys enjoy :)

———————

“No, I’m sure Seymour’s just glad she found a fucking replacement for her son. I mean for what other reason would she show so much affection to her a servant?”

“She’s a servant. Probably to make her do her work. I would do that I mean, Joanne -or whatever her fucking name is- is always licking all over Seymour’s boots. She’s sure as hell replacing her son.”

“Yeah, what I said.”

Joan swallowed and turned on her heels, heading back to her dressing room. She had wanted to go to the break room to get some coffee for her and Jane, but when she had heard the the two tech workers talking, she stopped. Once she had heard them talking about her she had listened in. Now all she could hear was the laughter and faint chatter of the man and the woman in the break room.

Was she really a replacement for Edward? Surely, Jane would never even think of trying to replace her son. But what if she was? After all, queens are kinda unpredictable.

If Joan was truly just a replacement that must have meant that Jane had never actually loved her for who she was. That meant that Jane didn’t love Joan, she just loved the idea of having a child again. Tears gathered in the music director’s eyes as she sat back down at her desk. She began scribbling on her current paperwork when Jane walked in.

“Where’s the coffee? Did you forget? Where are your thoughts today, love?” She joked and then stopped when he saw Joan’s expression. “Sweetie?” Her tone softens, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. The coffee machine was being used and I decided to come back later so I could spend more time finishing work. Then I might be able to leave on time today.”

Lying was always a thing that came easy to her. Unfortunately, it was hard to lie to herself, because, deep down, she knew. She couldn’t shield her mind from the truth.

She wished was a machine, incapable of feeling the heartbreak she was feeling at the prospect of her mother figure never actually loving her.

“Are you sure? You look pretty upset. Did someone say something?” Jane inquired, and knelt down next to the desk. “You know that Bessie and I told you to come to one of us if anyone gives you a hard time. If someone was rude to you, tell me and I’ll have a word with them.”

“No, Jane. I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me so much.”

“...Alright.”

Joan knew that Jane didn’t fully believe her, but that didn’t matter.

Joan went back to work, yet her mind kept racing around the conversation she had overheard. If she wasn’t Jane’s daughter, Katherine surely wasn’t either. Or maybe Katherine was Jane’s daughter. Maybe Katherine didn’t remind Jane of Edward as much as Joan did (even though she and Edward were two different genders). Maybe seeing Joan brought back memories of Jane’s past life, while Katherine didn’t, since they hadn’t know each other.

And if Jane didn’t love Joan for who she was and only loved the idea of having a kid again, then maybe she loved Katherine for who she was because she didn’t remind her of Edward that much.

Joan knew that she should have been happy that the young queen was loved and had a mother, but she couldn’t. It just wasn’t fair- Katherine didn’t even know Jane in her past life! Jane should love Joan more, not Katherine! Plus, Katherine was kinda annoying at times...

A terrible, gnawing jealously settled deep within Joan’s chest and she felt ashamed.

---

That night after a quiet walk home (she didn’t get to leave when everyone else did, but she only had to stay at the theater for an hour) and a dinner filled with concerned glances from the other ladies in waiting, Joan was settling into bed when Maria stepped in.

“Joey, are you sure you’re alright?” Joan’s dull mood hadn’t gone unnoticed by her roommates. “If you don’t want to talk to Bessie about it, I’m here. Maggie’s here.”

Joan just shook her head mutely, her eyes fixed on the floor. Maria moves from the doorway to sit beside her on the bed.

“Joan, you’re my little sister. I worry about you.” Maria said. “Will you please, please tell me what’s wrong? I even called off date night with Catalina because I’m worried sick.”

Joan hunched her shoulders in, guilt racing through her.

“Why don’t you go to Aragon then?” Joan said, and anger created by the anguish bubbles up. “I don’t need your help!”

Maria inches away from Joan on instinct.

“That’s not what I meant. I was just trying to-”

“To help.” Joan finished with a grumble. “Why? Because you’re just so nice? Because you think you’re better than me?”

“Joan, don’t be ridiculous.” Maria said, shocked and worried.

“Just leave me alone. I want to be alone.” Joan mumbled.

Maria is quiet for a moment then sighs. Joan hears it as a noise of annoyance.

“Alright.”

With that, she got up and started to head for the door.

“Good night, Joey. I love you.”

Joan doesn’t say it back.

Once Maria was gone, Joan buried her face into the pillow and started to cry. Not only did Jane not love her, but she was also sure that Maria would hate her, too, if she kept this up. Bessie and Maggie would probably follow along.

Truly, no one loved her.

---

When the next morning rolled around, Joan was not at work already for once, rather in the kitchen, preparing breakfast (as in “breakfast” she meant her medicine and cup of coffee). She didn’t even notice that Maria had come in until the drummer hugged her tightly from behind, trapping her in a strong embrace. She can’t help but lean into her warmth.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone yesterday.” Maria whispered. “You told me to leave but I should have stayed.”

Joan sighed miserably. “No, no I was in the wrong. You tried to be nice and be there for me and I was an asshole. I’m sorry, really. You did nothing wrong in leaving me.”

“I still feel bad.” Maria said and let go of Joan, taking a step back so that the younger girl could turn. When she did, she brushes some strands of hair out of the music director’s pale face. “What’s wrong?”

Joan looked up at Maria, her big lamb eyes glistening slightly. Maria looked so terribly worried that Joan felt horrible about not being honest with her. But she couldn’t really tell Maria what was bothering her so she had to come up with an excuse for her behavior.

“I had a fight with another person on tech and I was still shaken up by it.” Joan explained. It was a bad lie, despite her skill, and Maria seemed suspicious, but luckily she said nothing.

Joan’s relief over that fact was short lived when the ladies in waiting arrived at the theater for work. Jane immediately picked up on the way Joan avoided her, which was very strange because usually the girl is trying to get to her before Kitty can. Her motherly side flaring, she makes her way over to Joan’s office-like room and basically traps her inside by standing in the doorway, forcing her to have to talk with her.

“Joan, will you tell me what’s wrong?” Jane said, trying to mask the worry and irritation in her voice with gentleness. “I want to help you but for that to work you gotta communicate with me here.”

“I’m fine, Jane.” Joan whispered, ducking her head low, “I swear that I’m fine.”

“Joan, stop lying to me. Please tell me what’s bothering you. I want to help, sweetheart.”

“I’m not a replacement for your son!”

Jane stepped back, wincing. Her eyes widen when she full processes Joan’s words.

“D-don’t think I don’t know. You don’t love me, you just love the idea of having a child again.”

Jane didn’t react how Joan had expected her to react. She didn’t react with worry but with anger.

“You think I’m replacing Edward?” She seethed, “Fuck, are you- I mean how could you think I’m replacing my little boy? What kind of heartless fucking monster do you have to be to say something like that? I could never replace Edward! All I wanted to do was be a mother to you and Kitty and you say things like that to me?!”

“J-Jane, I-”

“I don’t want to fucking hear another word from you!” Jane roared, silencing Joan with her outburst and pure rage. “You can’t say things like that and then tell me you didn’t mean them or something!”

“I’m sorry.” Joan whispered. “I’m just-”

“Don’t talk to me.” Jane hissed, turning. “Just don’t fucking talk to me. Get ready for work.”

—————

When Kitty saw Jane pass with tears streaming down her face she was immediately worried.

She jumped up from her chair, where she had been mindlessly scrolling through her phone to pass the time before the show, and ran after Jane. She followed the woman into the bathroom and watched as she began splashing her reddened face with cold water. When Kitty called her name, she whirled around like a furious grey thundering and showed her teeth, seething in her spot.

“What?” She snarled.

Kitty flinched backwards at her tone. She never thought she would be on the receiving end of Jane’s fury- what had she done to make the woman so mad? She wracked her brain, but couldn’t think of anything. What did she do?!

“I-I-” Kitty stammered, frightened.

“Here to say I’m replacing you with Edward, too?” Jane growled, stalking towards Kitty as though she were going to hit her.

Kitty’s eyes widen at the statement and quickly began shaking her head.

“No!” She said, “I would never! That’s so horrible! Who would do such a thing?”

That seems to calm Jane slightly- as in she no longer is advancing on Kitty. She breathed out a shaky breath and spat, “Joan.”

Why wasn’t Kitty surprised? Joan has been jealous and agitated by her and Jane’s relationship ever since day one. Kitty wanted to laugh at the odds if it weren’t such an inappropriate thing to do at that current moment.

“Oh,” She whispered, sadness leaking into her voice. It must have been horrible- getting your child compared to someone you just see as a daughter figure. No wonder why Jane was so angry. “I’m so sorry, Jane... That’s so terrible... You don’t deserve that.”

Jane just sighed and brought a hand up to one of her eyes. Kitty saw a fresh tear roll down her cheek and her heart clenches for her mother. She takes a step towards her.

“Can I hug you or should I just go?”

“No-” Jane said breathily, her voice catching in her throat, “Come here, my love. Please.”

Kitty immediately obliged and soon she’s wrapped up in Jane’s warm arms. She hugs the silver queen tightly, as if she were trying to squeeze all the anguish and pain out of her.

“I’m so sorry, Jane,” Kitty mumbled against her chest. “You don’t deserve that... Just know that I would never do such a thing.”

“I know,” Jane sniffled, “I know, sweetheart. I know you wouldn’t. You aren’t like that.”

Kitty nodded and nuzzles closer to her mother, hoping it would bring her some comfort. It seems to work and she smiled slightly.

“I knew I’ve always been your favorite.” She giggled, trying to lighten the mood.

Jane hums and chuckled, but Kitty still takes it as agreement.

“My perfect girl,” Jane murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Kitty’s head. “My wonderful, perfect girl...”

———

Neither of them notice the figure standing in the doorway, peeking in through the half-open door. They watch with teary eyes before turning and running away.

What has she done?

[yourdeepestfathoms]

SIX hanahaki disease AU

So this AU is set in the tour!verse. Our girl Joan has the hanahaki disease because of LITERALLY EVERYONE IN THE SHOW. The feelings she has for them is NOT romantic ones, but, rather, one-sided friendships. And the desire for affection and love from them, but she doesn’t get it. So platonic love, I guess.

Each character has a different flower and they cause Joan pain at different moments, usually when she’s desiring their attention or affection. She knows who she’s wanting to be with her by what color petal she coughs up.

Aragon- Dahlia (symbolizes dignity and pomp)

This flower is the second most common flower that causes Joan discomfort, which is something that confuses her at first, but then she realizes that she desires Aragon’s motherly presence. She stands near Aragon quite often because the pain ebbs slightly when she’s around. The dahlia is located around Joan’s left lung and tightens its roots when the need for Aragon’s attention arises, causing her breathing issues.

Anne Boleyn- Hydrangea (symbolizes thankfulness for being understood)

These flowers being expelled is pretty rare, as Joan usually doesn’t desire to be around Anne. However, if she sees Anne doing something fun and wants to join in, the green petals may come up into her mouth. The hydrangea is located on her first rib on the left side.

Jane Seymour- Edelweiss (symbolizes courage and devotion)

This is most common flower that comes up. Joan desperately desires Jane’s affection and love, but Jane in this universe is not motherly. It gets so bad that Joan is in extreme agony whenever she’s near Jane, but still stands by her and interacts with her anyway because she believes if she talks with her enough, then Jane will love her again. The edelweiss is located on her right lung, causing severe breathing problems.

Anna of Cleves- Red poppy (symbolizes remembrance)

Another very rare one. The poppy is located on the lower ribs on the right side.

Katherine Howard- Camellia blossom (symbolizes affection and love)

When Joan starts to see Howard treat Bessie like a daughter, she’s desperate to have that attention, too. Her attempts to sway the woman into treating her the same way eventually fail, worsening the pain she feels towards Howard. Whenever she sees Bessie and Howard being all mother-daughter, the pain is at its worst. The camellia blossom is located around her bronchus.

Catherine Parr- Chrysanthemum (symbolizes honesty)

The third most common flower to show up, but also the one with the easiest pain to soothe. Cathy is a lot more caring towards Joan, even if it be just out of common decency sometimes, which ebbs the sting and ache by a lot. However, if Joan, say, texts Cathy and is left on read, then something as small as that will make the agony flare up all over again, usually overwhelming her so badly she chokes. The chrysanthemum is located on her diaphragm. When the roots tighten, Joan gets the hiccups. (She gets the hiccups a lot)

Maria- Violet (symbolizes loyalty and faithfulness)

When she still lived with the other ladies in waiting, these petals coming up were relatively common. She got jealous very easily over Maria mothering Maggie and Bessie but not her and desires for Maria’s affection. Now, they show up less. The violets are located along her rib cage.

Maggie- Peony (symbolizes anger)

Very rare. The peonies are located along her rib cage.

Bessie- Snapdragons (symbolizes deception)

The rarest out of all the flowers, but the pain that comes with the petal coming up is biting and horrible (like little teeth are ripping her chest cavity to shreds). The snapdragons are located near her trachea.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Cara Mia

“Have you seen my hoodie?

“Nooo...”

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

Anna had a lot of sweaters, sweatshirts, but especially hoodies, and she had a habit of leaving them in other people’s houses. She’d been missing one specific one for awhile, actually, that she couldn’t quite remember the whereabouts of. It was a really comfortable one, too; scarlet with soft material, a little big on her but cozy nonetheless. She’d considered how her girlfriend would look in her clothes multiple times, but coincidentally this hoodie in particular, and her expectations of how cute it'd be (if it was oversized on her, she could only imagine how adorable it’d look on the love of her life) were most definitely exceeded.

Bessie was wearing that same hoodie, of course– why wouldn’t she be? She was sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, facing away from the door and waiting diligently for her girlfriend to finish her shower so they could start their movie date.

Anna felt her heart melt and an easy smile came to her face.

“Stealing from me again, Bessie?” She teased, stepping fully out of her bedroom hallway. Bessie’s drowsy hum of agreement from within the large scarlet garment only made her smile more. “First my heart, now my hoodies, what's next?”

Bessie craned her neck around, a sweater paw resting under her chin as she calmly replied, “Your last name.”

Anna paused and her smile gradually fell, settling into a more neutral expression that worried Bessie increasingly as the seconds passed. Just as the bassist shot up to her feet, her eyes scared that she had pushed the limits of their relationship too far, and was about to ask if she’d said something wrong, the queen began to raise her right arm to cover her face. Nervous laughter bubbled up in Anna’s throat and Bessie saw the tips of her ears were an alarming shade of red.

Holy shit.

She’s totally won.

Usually it was Anna who made Bessie into a flustered mess, never the other way around! She has never made Anna get like this before!

Bessie perked up ecstatically, her eyes brightening. This side of her was usually well hidden by her tough or motherly demeanors; only a select few people got to see this more youthful, wondered, dorky part of her, and Anna was blessed to be one of them.

“This means I won, right? I told you I would get you flustered one day! Ha!!” She throws both arms up into the air, the long sleeves of the hoodie dangling down over her hands.

After a few seconds passed, Bessie moved over to Anna, still glowing in her victory. She peered up at her girlfriend and could see her eyes in their contrasting, but warm shades, fighting an unidentifiable emotion. A muffled, weak chuckle was punctuated by the flush staining the queen’s cheeks an (in Bessie’s opinion) illegally adorable pink.

“Damn you, Elizabeth Blount,” Anna muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, the nervous smile on her face making her look all the cuter. All because of her.

Bessie’s heart buzzed, sang, melted within her chest, and she came to the realization that she didn't think she’d ever fall this far in love again.

“I win.” Bessie smirked, and whatever else she was going to say was cut off when she was suddenly lifted by Anna. She yelped and flung her arms around the queen’s neck, grappling onto the collar of her shirt. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“You may have won once,” Anna said, grinning mischievously, her flustered weakness fading away, “But I’m still the queen of the castle when it comes to making partner’s flustered.” The grin turns into a smirk, “You would know that.”

Bessie half yelped, half laughed when Anna swung around and carried her to the bedroom, where she was promptly dropped onto the bed. Before she could regain her bearings, soft, warm lips are on hers and she melts into the kiss with a muffled hum. Anna’s hand cups the back of her head, stroking her fingers through her thick black hair and sending sparks down her spinal chord.

“You need to wash your hair.” Was the first thing Anna said after pulling away.

Bessie pouted below her and playfully shoved the queen, only to be bombarded by another heated kiss. This time, she wraps her arms around Anna’s back, pulling her closer as her need for love and affection makes her desperate for her girlfriend’s lips and touch.

“Okay, okay,” Bessie panted, finally having to pull back, “You win, you win!”

Anna laughed and opted to peppering Bessie’s cheek and neck with soft kisses. She could feel the vibrations of Bessie’s coos against her lips when she pressed them to her girlfriend’s throat, which made her grin.

“What?” Bessie raised her head to look at her.

“I didn’t know musician’s purred.” Anna teased.

Bessie’s cheeks blazed bright red and she lightly swatted Anna’s shoulder, sputtering on her words.

“You- shut up!” She snapped, flustered. This makes Anna laugh loudly.

“You are too cute,” Anna mused.

“Maybe that's because I'm staring at someone I'm in love with?” Bessie said, grinning up at the queen. “I just...I love you so, so much....holy shit..” She breathed.

Anna laughed softly and lays down next to Bessie, pressing her lips back against her soft neck and kissing and nipping gently. Her girlfriend reaches over and gripped onto her shirt (after worming her hands out of her long sleeves, of course).

“Don’t get sappy on me.” Anna teased.

“I’m not on you,” Bessie said, then clambered onto Anna’s (very muscular) body, straddling her hips. “Now I am.” She reclined forward like puppy desperate for affection and rests her chin on Anna’s chest (but not without Anna loudly saying, “Libbie, that’s MY BOOB!” when her jaw accidentally pressed onto the queen’s left breast, which caused Anna to laugh loudly and Bessie to snap her neck back so fast she probably could have given herself whiplash).

“I think I’d die for you...” Bessie whispered, closing her eyes and feeling Anna’s hand snake up to the back of her head, stroking her hair gently. “I don’t know how to tell you how much I love you...but I do. I do so much.”

She tried, she truly tried to express it through words, but still it fell short. It wasn’t surprising, but it was frustrating.

It was only then that she realized she was shaking and her vision was blurry. She blinked and more tears rolled down her cheeks to replace the ones Anna had just brushed away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Anna murmured, reaching up to cup the musician’s cheeks. “Talk to me, princess. What’s wrong?”

“Happy tears.” Bessie sobbed, “They’re happy tears because you’re warm and alive and I can hear your heart and I just love you more than I have ever or will ever love anything.”

She dropped her head down onto Anna’s chest, relishing the steady beat of her heart. She felt one of the queen’s hands slide down to her back and rub up and down her spine, carefully massaging some of the more tense areas.

“You’re everything.” She muttered, closing her eyes. “Queen or not, I would give you the moon. For you, I would tear down the sun and use it to smite God itself like it was my...sword or something.” Her nose wrinkled at her weird choice of smitten words.

A strangled laugh left Anna’s throat.

“Please don’t.”

Bessie looked up to see Anna’s eyes glistening. She perked up, her own glossy eyes widening. Her hands are immediately rushing to wipe away a stray tear, and Anna leans into her touch, laughing softly again.

“Don’t cry!” Bessie said, worried, “I’m sorry. You can’t cry, too!”

Anna laughed once more and cupped Bessie’s cheeks, pulling her into a kiss. Her thumbs rub against her girlfriend’s cheekbones before one hand returns to her back to massage through the hoodie that caused all of this to happen in the first place.

“You’re perfect,” Anna whispered after they both pulled away. “I love you so much, princess.”

“Princess,” Bessie hummed. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that. It’s new.”

“Well, you’re certainly pretty enough to be one,” Anna said, then smirked, “But I’m still the queen.”

“Wouldn’t that imply I’m your daughter?”

“I did not think of that.”

They both erupted into laughter.

Bessie leaned down again, snuggling against Anna’s broad chest. She closed her eyes, letting out a loving sigh.

“Thank you,” She murmured. “For giving me a chance to love again.”