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kanencrow · 15 days

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A Short Conversation - Shauna Shipman | One Shot

Summary: It was a common occurrence for you to wait for Shauna to get done with practice. By the time she’s all showered and ready to go, she finds you at your usual spot in the library, reading a book that you find yourself struggling to comprehend.

Warnings: Swearing.

A/N: All characters are 18+ by default. Here's another little piece of writing that I made a while back. It's nothing too long or extreme, just a short conversation between you and Shauna about books.

Word Count: 1700+

"You know she was only forty-one when she died?"

The chair beside you pulled out from its original position with a quiet squeak, interrupting the quiet atmosphere that the library had always been naturally consumed in, and with a tinge of endearment sparking inside of your chest at the familiar voice that hit your ears, the corner of your lip curled up into a miniscule smirk. You knew she was referring to the author of the book you were reading: Jane Austen. You knew to leave it to a certain brown-eyed bookworm to know all the lore behind someone or something she was fixated on.

"I... didn't know that," you eventually muttered, answering the open-ended question with a tone of appreciative understanding, before you internally pinpointed your spot in the book that you had rented for the evening and casually shifted your gaze to meet a pair of brown irises. The same pair that you had grown to lose yourself within every time you stared into them, "Hey, Shaunie," you murmured, keeping your volume low, just so Mrs. Fletcher wouldn't hear you and scold you again for 'being too loud,' according to her bat-like hearing.

With the way Shauna's slightly damp hair was still in a messy ponytail and she was sporting a slight blush on her cheeks, it wasn't difficult to detect that she had just come back from practice, which was why you had been sitting inside of the library after hours in the first place. She always took a shower in the locker room after every skirmish Coach Ben pushed onto her and the rest of the team that chose to stick around, and that made the time it took for her to meet up longer, but you didn't necessarily mind it.

You remembered asking her once upon a time, inquiring why, and she stated how she didn't want to 'stink up her car,' as if her body odor was enough to act as some sort of encapsulating aroma that would linger, if it became trapped in the space of her fun-sized SUV. You and she both knew that her internalized fear couldn't realistically happen, but it was a valid argument nonetheless, and one you didn't feel the need to debate. Besides, you had been far more focused on the way her eyes shined happily in that moment, and how the dimples in her cheeks showed themselves to you like a personal gift, so it wasn't as though you were completely invested in the topic.

Kind of like now.

It felt like you had been staring at Shauna for an eternity, before you blinked back into reality and noticed that she had settled down from her quiet bout of amusement and nodded down towards the book that you had since rested against your thigh. "I see you're reading something different." Your thumb acted as the bookmark, with the way it nestled under the weight of all the pages you previously read. It was no longer an interest to you, however, because she was present, and so it wasn't difficult to hear her when she eventually spoke up again, as she leaned closer to you and scrutinized the paperback cover of the novel.

"Mansfield Park?" she hummed out, a questioning tone to her voice, as her eyebrows rose in wonder. She was reading the name of the title, you mentally knew, deep down... somewhere inside of your distracted brain. Though even then, you found yourself unable to comprehend what she was referring to, which must have been apparent on her pallid features, the moment she raised her brown eyes up to meet yours and sent you a knowing expression. "How are you liking it so far?"

You felt awfully pathetic for lacking a basic attention-span when it came to her, though you were thankful you managed to answer her question without much of a hitch, when your eyes slightly widened, and you shifted your head down to stare at the cover of the book. "It's... interesting, to say the least," you admitted, before you pursed your lips and lifted your gaze to meet her own once more, which showed a clear emotion of intention and genuine interest towards what you had to say.

It made you feel warm inside, even if you knew that the true reason as to why she was asking you about the story you were reading wasn't one without intention. "It's about this woman, named Fanny Price," you told her, explaining what you learned of the novel throughout the short span of time you had spent skimming through the pages, "she was sent to live with her asshole of an uncle, but I guess she's... making the most of it by delving into different romantic endeavors with the people around the town?"

You weren't entirely sure if you were understanding what you were reading. Then again, your ignorance made sense, considering you hadn't put in a valiant effort to figure out the plotline and writing style that was Jane Austen: one of Shauna Shipman's favorite authors. So, your tone was accurate when it came to conveying your confusion, and it caused the brunette to let out an amused huff, before she shook her head and promptly grabbed the paperback out of your hand with a gentleness that made you tolerant in letting it happen.

You watched her as she stared down at it for a few moments, delicate fingers tracing over the art on the paper cover. "Be honest," she started, her brown hues locking firmly with yours while she spoke and propped her brow up knowingly, "you're only reading this because I teased you the other day for consuming only horror books."

"It's not my fault I like suspenseful stuff," you hushed out, slumping your shoulders, as you attempted to defend your affinity towards horror novels. It only encouraged a teasing smile to grow on Shauna's lips, and with how close she sat next to you, it wasn't difficult to detect the subtle quiver in them. "Don't laugh at me again," you immediately uttered, upon noticing her poor attempt at hiding her amusement, and when the curve of her mouth heightened into a closed grin, you rolled your eyes and glanced away from her to mindlessly stare at Mrs. Fletcher, who sat at the library's front desk and typed away angrily at the blocky computer in front of her.

"Maybe I'd like it more if I could actually relate to it," you defended quietly, before you shifted your focus back towards the bookworm and tilted your head to the side. "I wouldn't say I'm the type of demographic that would organically read something like Mansfield Park," you paused and sent her an apologetic stare, "no offense."

She didn't seem offended by your words, though. She only hummed in silent understanding, before she leaned forward and set the book down onto the wooden surface of the table in front of the two of you. "That's why I've never read this one," she told you, as you watched her slide her hand away from the cover and slowly settle back into the uncomfortable backing of the wooden chair. Your eyebrow rose in ignorance, clearly not grasping what she was attempting to imply by her vague comment, but you lacked the brain power to directly inquire.

Especially when she moved her head to look at you and sent you a lopsided smile, "Pride and Prejudice is good," she admitted, which piqued your interest, "and if you like poetry, there is Emily Dickinson." She shrugged, giving you different ideas, but you found yourself mindlessly shaking your head, set in your ways, before you lifted your arm and rested your elbow over the top of your seat, as you grasped the wrist that limply hung down with the fingers of your other hand.

You stared at Shauna silently, and when her own gaze remained unwavering from your own, as she admired your features and the color of your eyes, you felt the corners of your lips lift up into a loving smile. There was something oddly domestic about sitting in the library with someone you had an unlabeled, but undeniably intimate relationship with. You understood her, and she understood you, and it was nice, and it was comfortable... and it didn't make you feel like you had to act like someone you weren't.

You had always been a recluse, someone who didn't often like to converse with people, and although she pulled you out of your shell – if only slightly – she didn't attempt to change you. You didn't try to change her, either. You liked her for who she was. Both bad and good. Maybe that wasn't something two supposed 'best friends' were supposed to feel towards one another, but you and her did anyway, and it felt natural and fine. You didn't see a problem with it, and neither did she.

It only encouraged you to speak up, and you allowed your words to float into the air without any sort of restraint, or care on how they may have come across to her own ears. "I'll just write a book," you mumbled softly after a moment, as your eyes flickered down to her mouth, using your pause to admire the person before you, "about us." You twisted your lips in contemplation, "That's something I'd read."

Shauna let out a quiet giggle at your words, but it wasn't done in a way to make fun of you. If anything, she agreed, and you smiled brighter when she inevitably nodded her head in affirmation and nudged her knee against your own affectionately. "We'll do it together," she told you, “once we get out of this town.”

You huffed softly, feeling endeared at her tone of determination, as well as her desire to hightail it out of Wiskayok, and you bowed your chin in agreement, all while you felt your heart flutter in your chest. "Deal," you hummed out. You sent her a soft smile in that same moment, and there was a certain air of affection that consumed the atmosphere between the two of you, as you thoughtfully stared into her brown eyes.

And just like earlier, you found yourself getting lost in them.

As always, if you guys have any ideas for another one shot or headcanon or whatever, let me know! I'm in need of some ideas!

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman x reader

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delphinidin4 · 4 months

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I just had a brainwave about Mansfield Park. This might be something that Jane Austen fans already know and think is obvious, but I've never heard it discussed, and I think it really clears up a lot of things about this book for me.

So scholars are always talking about how this book intersects with slavery. First of all, the Antigua property that isn't doing so well would have been worked by enslaved people (keeping slaves was still legal in Antigua, though selling them there was not). Also, at one point Fanny asks Sir Thomas a question about the slave trade, though it isn't really elaborated on. I saw this discussed again and again in the (admittedly little) scholarship I read on this book, and it always seemed weird to me that they zeroed in on that detail.

More recently, I read Margaret Doody's book on the names Austen used in her work, and she pointed out that the famous legal case that declared slavery to be illegal in England was called the Mansfield Decision. Any reader at the time, reading that novel, would have that information in the back of their head, and it would have informed how they read the book.

This much I knew. But I always felt like these arguments never really explained what slavery had to do with the love story of Fanny Price: even Doody never seemed to connect this factoid about the title very deeply with the novel's themes (a problem I had with a number of her discussions in that book).

More recently, I saw it pointed out that Fanny Price is treated like a slave by Mrs. Norris, and I thought, "Aha! Finally, an explanation!" But it still didn't feel complete to me.

But I just realized: you can take that metaphor a lot farther. (For this argument, please keep in mind that Austen, though on the side of the abolitionists, was a 19th-century woman who didn't have the same sensibilities about the discussion of race as we do now.)

--Like an enslaved person, Fanny is taken from her home and her family and moved far, far away (she isn't kidnapped, of course, but stick with me).

--The family that she joins considers her to be naturally stupider than they are because she has not had the advantage of their education. This is similar to African slaves, whom white people looked down on and thought intellectually inferior because they didn't have a western education.

--The term "family" at the time included the household servants and slaves, not just the actual family. Fanny, the poor relation, joins the household less like a cousin/niece, and more like a servant or an enslaved person. She is literally relegated to sleep in an attic, like a maid.

--Fanny suffers a great deal emotionally because she misses her family (especially Edward). Austen, as an abolitionist, would likely have read accounts like Olaudah Equiano's autobiography, which often described the intense emotional suffering of enslaved people separated from their homes and families.

--One of the justifications slaveholders gave for slavery was that they were "improving" the lives of the Africans they enslaved, by teaching them Christianity and occasionally, trades or other forms of education. Fanny is ostensibly being brought to Mansfield to give her a good education. And while she does get that education, she really functions much more in the household like a servant to Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris.

--Fanny IS taught a great deal of morality by Edmund, who is a bit of a prig. It seems hypocritical of him to be constantly "schooling" her in morality when it often seems like Fanny is more naturally ethical than he is. This mirrors the hypocrisy of white slaveholders who deigned to teach their slaves Christianity while acting extremely unchristian themselves.

--Fanny ends up with an inferiority complex because she is constantly torn down by Mrs. Norris and treated as inferior by Maria and Julia. In reality, she's very intelligent, well-read, and ethical in a way that none of them area. This mirrors the way black folks were unfairly treated as inferior by white society.

--The injustice of the Bertrams toward Fanny is so obvious to outsiders that even the morally deficient Crawfords are indignant about it. Mrs. Norris makes a snide remark to Fanny about "who and what she is" (a reference to racism?) and Mary Crawford is indignant on Fanny's behalf and rushes in to comfort her. Henry Crawford--at least, after he falls in love with Fanny--says that the way the family has treated her is disgraceful, and that he is going to show them how they should have been treating her all along. Austen may be pointing to the idea that slavery is SO wrong that it should be obvious to everybody.

I conclude that the book is titled Mansfield Park because Austen wants to point out that while slavery may be illegal in England, poor relations are still often treated like slaves by their families.

That being said, here are some questions this analogy throws up:

--Why is Sir Thomas so much nicer to Fanny after his stay in Antigua, where he would have been witnessing slavery on a daily basis? What does this say about him, both as an uncle and a slaveowner?

--Fanny goes home to Portsmouth, and finds that she doesn't like it and it isn't as neat and orderly as she would like. Is this Austen saying that if enslaved people went back to Africa, they would find that they still felt western society to be superior? How would we square that idea with the point above that westerners are not superior to Africans?

--Why does Fanny end up with Edmund? If he's analogous to the son of a slaveowner and she's analogous to a slave, why is she in love with him in the first place, and why does Austen seem to reify her choice by making them get together in the end? (Remember that even Austen's sister Cassandra felt strongly that Fanny should have ended up with Henry Crawford, not the priggish Edmund.) Is Fanny brainwashed by the Bertrams? How does that relate to the slaveholding analogy?

#jane austen #mansfield park #literature #literary analysis #these were Bedtime Thoughts #so sorry if some of them don't make sense lol

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nerianasims · 24 days

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I tried to read Mansfield Park again. Nope. Can't do it. I've already read it three or four times, I think that's enough. I don't like any of the characters until Mary Crawford shows up, and then I only like her (and not a ton) and the narrative keeps beating up on her. The writing style irritates me, while usually I am rolling around in Austen's words like I'm high on catnip. Mrs. Norris talks as much as Miss Bates but is evil and not funny like Mrs. Elton is. I'm supposed to feel bad for Sir Bertram about anything ever. And I'm supposed to feel bad for Fanny 100% of the time, poor Fanny, pity poor Fanny, poor poor Fanny ARGH.

Like yes. Fanny's situation sucks and then it sucks some more and then it continues sucking, everyone treats her like crap so you must pity her in her stoic quiet strength of character, look at her constantly being emotionally beaten up on and taking it humbly. This does not compel me.

I do mean everyone treats her like crap. (Mary's the least bad, but I don't think Henry ever sees her as a real person.) Edmund is no better and also their relationship gives me ye olde squicke. Not because they're cousins, but because he immediately takes a caregiving role -- one that no one else does, just to make it more icky. An age gap is not an issue at all for me, except in pretty much the exact circumstances between Fanny and goddamn Edmund. I am not calling "problematic!" or anything, and if other people like it that's fine, but I personally hate it. Doesn't help that I hate him anyway.

#jane austen #I am not looking to argue at all if you like Mansfield Park I'm thrilled for you and I wish I could #but I cannot stomach this at least not right now #gonna head back to Persuasion to clear my head

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grandhotelabyss · 10 months

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Any thoughts on Byatt, on the occasion of her passing?

I read Possession one summer when I was in college and thought it was extraordinary. (Intimidatingly so, which may be why I never read another of her novels, though Possession is generally said to be her best.) I need to read it again. I can't believe it never came back into fashion with the dark academia trend. Maybe it's too brainy, or maybe it's that the (mostly) heterosexual romance lacks yaoi potential à la Dorian Gray, Maurice, and Brideshead Revisited. For anyone unfamiliar, Possession is about two late-20th-century British academics investigating the lives of two fictional Victorian poets (one loosely based on Robert Browning, the other on Christina Rossetti), and both pairs' possible love affairs with one another. Byatt narrates in a sprightly comic style with no little lyric potential, derived, I now see, from her great models George Eliot and Iris Murdoch, but she also parodies every other kind of relevant style with Joycean or Nabokovian aplomb, giving us jargony feminist essays, image-jeweled Victorian fairy tales, fulsome 19th-century correspondence, jagged Browningesque dramatic monologues, dreamy Pre-Raphaelite ballads, and more. The climatic vindication of writing and reading as almost prophetic activities, this against the reductively ideological approach of the Theory era Byatt was writing within and against, should be carved above the lintel of whatever English departments remain:

There are readings—of the same text—that are dutiful, readings that map and dissect, readings that hear a rustling of unheard sounds, that count grey little pronouns for pleasure or instruction and for a time do not hear golden or apples. There are personal readings, which snatch for personal meanings, I am full of love, or disgust, or fear, I scan for love, or disgust, or fear. There are—believe it—impersonal readings—where the mind's eye sees the lines move onwards and the mind's ear hears them sing and sing.

Now and then there are readings that make the hairs on the neck, the non-existent pelt, stand on end and tremble, when every word burns and shines hard and clear and infinite and exact, like stones of fire, like points of stars in the dark—readings when the knowledge that we shall know the writing differently or better or satisfactorily, runs ahead of any capacity to say what we know, or how. In these readings, a sense that the text has appeared to be wholly new, never before seen, is followed, almost immediately, by the sense that it was always there, that we the readers, knew it was always there, and have always known it was as it was, though we have now for the first time recognised, become fully cognisant of, our knowledge.

I was pleased to see a long story by Byatt, "The Thing in the Forest," in the Norton Introduction to Literature, which I used the one time I taught the class of that name, in the ill-fated spring semester of 2020. If you've never read Byatt, this story or novelette is a good place to start. It does a lot of what Possession does in miniature, synthesizing witty metafiction, aestheticized fantasy, and moving historical reality into a work of the latter-day Romantic imagination.

I also want to recommend Imagining Characters, an under-discussed book of conversations between Byatt and the Brazilian psychoanalyst Ignês Sodré about six novels: Mansfield Park, Villette, Daniel Deronda, The Professor's House, An Unofficial Rose, and Beloved. (I've still never read that Murdoch, I confess.) This book is probably why I think of Mansfield Park, Villette, and Daniel Deronda as forming a loose trilogy of 19th-century "problem novels" (like Shakespeare's "problem plays") that challenge any cheap 20th-century talk about the complacency, sentimentalism, meliorism, or all-around naiveté of "bourgeois realism." Plus Sodré and Byatt are superb readers, and it's a pleasure to "listen" to them in conversation.

The Paris Review unpaywalled their interview with Byatt today. I'd never read it before. She says much of interest; she even criticizes Kazuo Ishiguro in the same terms as I have, for writing international literature by subtracting specificity, though she later praises The Unconsoled for its insight into the psychology of the artist. She seems ambivalent about realism, constantly invoking fairy tales, even saying this about Murdoch—

I think Iris learned a great deal from the French surrealists, and then somehow went and sat in Oxford and became a slightly less interesting novelist than she would have been if she had stayed in contact with the world of Beckett and Queneau—she would never have gone into Sarraute-like writings. I think she developed a theory about the virtues of Jane Austen that wasn’t all that good for her.

—and this about herself:

If you asked me what I wish I’d written, I would say Borges’s “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote.” That is a completely pointless postmodernist structure of total beauty that nevertheless has a profound point.

The interviewer notes her nonconformist heritage, what links her to George Eliot as well as to Lawrence and to Leavis. She acknowledges it, but notes as well another way, even within the deep English Protestant imagination:

There’s a Spenserian aspect of Milton that I love. It’s the exotic. It’s the extraordinary metaphors. It’s the luscious sensuousness of him. It isn’t the stern puritan. I think I made something of Spenser that was the presence of stories about unreal things in a serious, real world.

"The Last Spenserian." There are worse epitaphs. Now I just need to read more of her novels.

#a. s. byatt #literary criticism #english literature

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bethanydelleman · 22 days

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I find Mansfield Park unbearably depressing because I hate Edmund so much. I ship Fanny with Mary Crawford, but really ANYONE to get her out of there and definitely away from Edmund! The first time I read the book decades ago, I was hoping she'd go off with that nice young surgeon, but alas. And really, I think Mary would be a perfect "reformed rake" type for Fanny. She's much more thoughtful than Henry, and she sees Fanny's worth first.

I think one of the reasons that I'm obsessed with Mansfield Park is because the ending is unsatisfying (but then again, I find Emma dissatisfying too and I'm not obsessed...) I sometimes wish Jane Austen had just written a few more chapters to show us, and not just tell us, that Edmund and Fanny would be a good match. I have a hard time seeing it.

I know that her ending is probably the most realistic one, given the era and her situation in life, but I just want her out of Mansfield. They were so horrible to her and I have a hard time really believing it has changed. It also makes me sad that the Crawfords didn't change. You really feel that they could have, it's sad that they failed.

#jane austen #question response #mary crawford #fanny price #henry crawford #mansfield park

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 1 year

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Suppose 'The King in Yellow' exists in the world of twilight. Which cullen reads the play?

The King in Yellow for those unfamiliar with it, is a fictional play within a set of short stories that's eldritch before there was even eldritch.

Boringly and sadly, anon, none of them. That in itself would be a story as whoever reads more than the first act is driven mad. The Cullens are a lot of things but they're functioning, they teeter on the brink of madness (at least Edward certainly does) but they never quite fall off the edge.

I can list off the Cullens who've never heard of it and have no interest and those who are... tempted...

Alice

Has no interest in it/has never heard of it. Edward's talked about it here and there but Alice isn't what you'd call an intellectual or someone with any interest in reading weird plays that sound cerebral and boring.

Bella

Bella's heard of it but never read it and only vaguely knows what it's about. She feels like it's one of those things she always ought to read but it's not her genre so she always mumbles away excuses on why she hasn't read it yet. "I'll get around to it someday," Bella says without really meaning it and knowing she'll read Mansfield Park again.

This is even worse when she's a vampire as she has 'infinite' time to get anything done so she never actually sits down to read new things.

Carlisle

Oh, he's heard of it and it terrifies him. He's actually read all of act 1 and found it, as everyone described, banal, not that interesting, and very benign. He's always been tempted to start the second act but fear has stayed his hand and so far he has never done it.

Edward

Edward didn't even start the play. He's so terrified of what it might do to him, what truths it could possibly reveal, that he hasn't even read the first act that Carlisle assures him was quite normal and certainly not madness inducing. Edward's so terrified that a part of him believes even to look on the cover would drive him past the point of no return.

However, he has explicitly kept it on his bookshelf as both a point of pride (he hasn't gone mad yet) and a temptation he can't even explain to himself.

All it would take is for him to reach over, flip open its cover, and...

Emmett

He frequently gets it confused with Waiting for Godot. Because of this, he'll insist that he watched it and can see why it drove people utterly mad out of sheer boredom. When someone points out that was Waiting for Godot he tries to figure out what The King in Yellow is but ultimately forgets and thinks it's Waiting for Godot again.

Esme

Esme's heard of it but has little interest in it and isn't sure why anyone would want to read a play that would drive them mad. Seems like a silly thing to do when you can always not read the play and not be mad.

Because of this, she doesn't understand how the play would tempt anybody and thinks it's on Edward's shelf as a kind of strange decoration.

Jasper

Jasper has heard of it but has no interest in it. That sort of intellectual nonsense isn't his thing. Like Esme, he doesn't know how a play would drive you mad or why you would read if it drives you mad.

He suspects one day Edward will give in and read it though. He's not looking forward to that fallout.

Renesmee

Somehow, the play ends up on Renesmee's bookshelf and because she has 0 supervision despite being watched by Jacob all the time she has no idea how dangerous of a play it is and that it may very well drive her mad.

She probably ends up reading it one day and the entire family doesn't notice she's been driven utterly mad.

Rosalie

She's heard of it but has no interest in it. She despairs of Emmett not knowing what it is but considers herself cultured enough in at least knowing generally what it's about. She's mildly curious why it would drive people mad but not enough to do anything about it.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #the king in yellow #the cullens #bella swan #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #jasper whitlock #renesmee cullen #meta #headcanon #opinion

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kiss-me-over-the-garden-gate · 9 months

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recently got a copy of mansfield park for christmas and plan to give it a reread. we had to read it in high school, and I remember our teacher Mr. Hammond (always wore suits and had neatly combed pure white hair with a goatee) talking about how insipid the main character Fanny Price was and how all she did was cry

which I found pretty embarrassing bc I could relate to her SOOO heavily. it felt like a shameful secret to feel that way. she was unrequitedly in love with someone who loved someone else, and at the time, I had a huge crush on this guy who was obsessed with and briefly dated one of my "closest" friends. and she was in a household that alternated between overlooking and berating her and she didn't really "belong" anywhere. which was certainly true of me at the time.

nowadays I relate more heavily to other Austen characters like Emma Woodhouse and Elizabeth Bennett, and I've felt the struggles of Anne Elliot too. but Fanny will always be the Austen character I related to first, and though I never expect to feel exactly like her again, I guess she's dear to me for that. it will be interesting to see what rereading mansfield park is like over a decade after my liberation from that situation.

#mansfield park #fanny price #jane austen

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cottagecore-raccoon · 2 years

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So I’ve been rereading some Jane Austen again, and it’s reminded me why Pride and Prejudice will always have a special place in my heart (in a way none of the others have yet to claim).

(Affectionately) Austen isn’t great at epilogues/end details that aren’t necessary to the story but are just generally satisfying. She builds up these beautiful webs of problems, creates some disaster which makes it possible for our heroine to be happy, and often ends the books shortly thereafter. But here’s the problem: I’m a sap! I want to read all the fluffy details about the main couples lives together!

Pride and Prejudice gives us at least some of those details!! Like I love knowing that Jane and Bingley ended up moving to be close to Lizzy and Darcy (partially cause they were much too close to everyone they knew in Merryton)! And it just really shows that the four of them all just love one another so much!

I genuinely love Mansfield Park, but I haven’t reread it much it felt like too much social anxiety for not enough fluff! And really adaptation of P&P (as much as I love them) also miss out on the good epilogue! I don’t need kissing, I need more sisterly love!

#anyway thank you for listening #I’m sure this have been said a million times before #but anyway there it is #pride and prejudice #jane austen #mansfield park #P&P #cottagecore-raccoon

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blackspoon99 · 1 year

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His Last Vow Pt. 2

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Strong Language, Mild Violence, Magnussen in general

This is a continuation of my BBC Sherlock Season 3 reader insert work. I previously wrote one for The Empty Hearse and one for The Sign of Three. You don’t have to read them to understand this fic, but it would definitely help with the details! Both are linked on my masterlist if you’re interested in reading them as well!

His Last Vow Pt. 1

8:15 am

John was a good friend. He could tell when it was best to push you no further. He also didn’t try to follow you when you needed some time alone. John knew you well enough to know that you didn’t appreciate persistence.

As you ducked around the corner of the block, you noticed John had gone back inside. You got on the tube with a floaty feeling in your head. The absence of tears and the dehydration left you feeling spent and empty. The tube station was not crowded. It was still too early for most people to be heading to work. You felt uneasy without the mindless chatter and white noise.

A train pulled into the station and slowed to a stop. You caught a glimpse of your own reflection in the tinted glass of the doors just before they opened. You were shocked by the gaunt contours of your face and the unfamiliar look in your eyes. This sobering moment brought you back to consciousness and you suddenly became aware of your breathing again.

When you got home, you felt numb. Exhaustion was spreading through your body and making your limbs feel heavy. Reluctantly, you moped to the bathroom and turned on the shower. In the mirror, you stared at your dark circles and contemplated calling in sick. After a minute of back and forth, you ultimately decided that having nothing to do would be worse.

Once you got to work, unfortunately, you were the only one working that day. You would have appreciated the company. Your usual co-worker was a chatty young woman who loved to tell you stories about her shockingly colorful private life. She didn’t care much for mysteries and cases and never asked you about Sherlock Holmes.

After a few hours of numbing your thoughts with seemingly pointless tasks, you decided that since the store wasn’t busy, you didn’t have to be either. You strolled the shelves, running your fingertips over the spines of the books until you found the Jane Austen section. You decided you didn’t even have the energy or will to read something new. With your index finger, you pulled out a copy of Mansfield Park and returned to the register.

5:48 pm

The rest of the workday was quiet. It had turned out to be a bit of a gloomy day. You figured the rain may have driven the usual bookstore dwellers back into the comfort of their homes. There were a few shoppers here and there, not many of them needing any special kind of assistance.

In a few short hours, you managed to read nearly the entire book. It was close to the end of your shift, and you wanted to finish the book before you went home. You’d decided long ago that reading books that you didn’t pay for was just an innocent perk of the job, just as long as you didn’t take them home with you later.

The only question was what you would do to occupy your mind once your shift ended. You had to think of something or otherwise, you’d have to think about-

Across the shop, the doorbell chimed with the opening of the door, interrupting the thought. You lifted your gaze just above the pages to see the last person you’d wanted to come by.

“Sherlock,” you said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

He approached the register. As he stepped into the light of the shop, you noticed he looked more or less back to normal. He’d showered, shaved, and swapped the soiled sweatshirt for his usual tailored suit. The only evidence of his escapades were the deep bags under his eyes. They seemingly matched yours. You wondered if he’d care more about himself if he saw what his carelessness did to everyone else.

“Have you forgotten already? Magnussen. John’s already been briefed and you’re falling behind. I’m just here to catch you up.”

“Haven’t spoken to me in weeks and suddenly you urgently need me involved in a case?” You avoided eye contact by looking down at your book and turning a page.

This was a rather inconvenient time for Sherlock to pick up his habit of dropping by your work whenever he felt like it.

“A case that somehow led to a night’s stay in a crack den?” you continued without looking up. As soon as you spoke, you realized that Sherlock likely assumed you were angry at him because of where he slept last night. In reality, your anger was more than partly concerned with where Janine had spent the night.

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair “A case involving such a sensitive matter has required meticulous planning and large amounts of time laying the groundwork—”

“I wasn’t asking to hear the justification. It may come as a surprise, but for once, I’m not interested.” You put the book down with much more force than you meant to. When you looked up, Sherlock was much closer to the desk than he had been a second ago.

“Oh really?” he asked smugly, leaning in slightly.

“What makes you think I’ll be interested in every case you come across? Maybe I could use a break from you after this morning. Not to mention, I really am quite busy at the moment.”

“Oh, are you?” Sherlock asked. He reached behind the register and dangled the book by his gloved hand. You took the book back, unamused.

“Come on, this isn’t like you. The Y/n I know would prefer to solve cases rather than read about them.” Your eyes flicked up to his. “Just hear what I have to say. I’m sure I can make you interested.”

“You’re full of confidence today, aren’t you?” Your tone was dripping with sarcasm.

“I do have a pretty stellar track record though, don’t I?”

You sighed. “Fine. But don’t take this as forgiveness for the bullshit you pulled this morning.” At least you could pretend you were angry at Sherlock for a non-selfish reason. You felt a sudden wave of shame at the thought that you were angry at Sherlock for doing something that should have made him happy.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Come on, isn’t your favorite cafe just across the street?” You didn’t answer. “I know you only have approximately...” He leaned down to check his watch “8 minutes until the end of your shift.”

“Fine. I’ll just meet you there, I have to close up first.” “No.” He stated plainly.

“No?”

“I’ll go with you, I insist.”

“I really don’t see—”

“Please.” You were stunned. Sherlock had used that word with such urgency and pleading very few times since you’d known him. “Forgive me if I am not confident in your ability to make our appointments.”

“Alright,” you replied quietly. You stared down at the register. Your cheeks burned slightly as you remembered he must be referring to how the last time you left the bookstore on your way to meet Sherlock, you’d nearly been kindling for a massive bonfire. “I’ll get my bag.”

Sherlock waited for you as you quickly closed up the shop. The rain poured outside. You cursed under your breath, realizing you didn’t have an umbrella. You and Sherlock walked outside. As you pulled your keys out to lock the door, Sherlock shielded you from the rain with the side of his coat. Despite everything, he could be quite the gentleman.

Thankfully, your destination wasn’t far. When Sherlock saw a break in the traffic, he grabbed your hand and jogged across the street, under the awning, and into the café. In the few moments you had been outside, the heavy rain had soaked your hair.

The café was quiet and dim in the low light of the rain and you shivered slightly in the air conditioning. You walked over to the closest table, right by the large window of the storefront.

You took off your damp coat and draped it over the back of the chair. You and Sherlock were the only people in the café. With no other customers, the only sounds were the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of dishes and cookware in the kitchen. After you sat down, Sherlock was quiet for a moment. It was almost as if both of you were waiting for the other to speak. You fidgeted in your seat and frowned at the realization that this was the first time you felt uncomfortable in a moment of silence between you and Sherlock.

A woman suddenly materialized at the edge of the table and asked what you would like to order. Sherlock ordered a coffee, black with 2 sugars and you elected to order a hot cup of tea. The waitress returned with your drinks and then flatly informed you that they were closing in 30 minutes.

Sherlock had paid for you both before you could even reach for your wallet. He was being suspiciously kind today. You decided trying to analyze the intentions of his actions was exhausting and futile.

Across the table, Sherlock stirred his coffee. “Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark – it’s the only way I can describe him.”

He then abruptly stopped stirring his coffee and put his forearms down on the table, leaning forward. “Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, Y/n – stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes ... That’s what he is.” Sherlock spoke with deep sincerity, his eyes staring directly into yours. “I’ve dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

You furrowed your brow and took a sip of tea. Despite the clear importance of the information Sherlock was giving you, your mind wandered. Your gaze shifted to the circle-shaped stain of coffee on his paper napkin. You wondered how long Sherlock had been seeing Janine. If that was why he had been ignoring you. You then wondered if she made him happy...

“You may know Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but he’s so much more than that. He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his wealth and power. I’m not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. He is the Napoleon of blackmail... Y/n, are you listening?”

Your eyes snapped up. “Yes, sorry. I’m just a bit distracted. Eyes like a shark, wealth and power.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. He looked directly at you. There was a second painful moment of silence as he made eye contact with you. “Did you go into my bedroom?”

Some of your tea leaped out of your cup as you abruptly put it down on the table with a sharp clank. Your face immediately heated up. “What?” you asked, stunned.

“Did you go into my bedroom?” He repeated.

“Well, no,” you said, avoiding eye contact. Sherlock’s jaw visibly relaxed. “But, uhm, what was in the bedroom came out and spoke to me and John.”

“Oh.” Now it was Sherlock’s turn to take a keen interest in his coffee.

“So, you’re seeing Janine now.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was meant to be a surprise.”

“It was.”

“Y/n-”

“And you’re ... happy?”

“Yes...I am that…” There was a long pause, “…happy.”

You nodded thoughtfully. This was a nightmare. You never expected Sherlock to bring up his relationship with Janine, even indirectly. You awkwardly looked out the window at the busy street outside. You idly played with the neckline of your sweater, running your finger over your collarbone. Through all of your fidgeting, he never took his eyes off you.

You turned to look back at him. “That’s all I need to know, that you’re happy.” You had said the word ‘happy’ so many times, it was starting to sound funny. Happy. Happ-y. Happy.

Change the subject now, your mind screamed. You cleared your throat and took another sip of tea. “So, the case?”

“Er, right,” Sherlock said, clasping his hands on the table. “Magnussen has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge.”

As he moved on, you felt relieved of the tension in your shoulders that you didn't realize you here holding.

“Its name ...” He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and held up the screen. “... is Appledore.”

On the screen was a photo of an extravagant mansion in the countryside. The exterior was made mostly of glass with sloping hills surrounding the property. “Wow,” you said under your breath.

“It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world, the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals – and none of it is on a computer. He’s smart – computers can be hacked. It’s all on hard copy in vaults underneath that house; and as long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone you’ve ever met is a fantasy.”

You frowned. You found it hard to believe such a man could exist. From the sound of it and Mycroft’s reaction to the very mention of his name, Magnussen had his hand in several of the world’s most influential governments. “What does he want?” you asked.

“Power. Control. He keeps people in his back pocket just in case they may one day be useful. And he certainly seems to get his use out of my dear brother.”

You could only imagine the shit he must have on Mycroft. “So, it seems. What do you want with him?” You had a feeling in the pit of your stomach that Sherlock shouldn’t be getting involved with a man like this. You remembered the years of his fascination with Jim Moriarty and how you’d lost him for 2 years in the end.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the case? What’s all this for?”

“I have been contacted by a person of high political standing who wishes for me to retrieve something from Magnussen’s collection.”

“And who might that be?”

“Lady Elizabeth Smallwood.”

You nodded. Lady Smallwood was a prominent member of parliament. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to know what Magnussen had on her. Across the table, Sherlock pushed up his sleeve to check his watch. “Would you look at the time? We’d better be going.”

“What? Where?” you asked, slightly startled. “I haven’t even finished my tea.”

Sherlock threw on his coat and pulled his leather gloves out of his pocket. “Quick stop at the flat, then we have an appointment.”

“I’m sorry, we? I haven’t agreed to help.”

Sherlock ignored you and headed out the door. He leaned his head back through the doorway. “Well, are you coming?”

You sighed and pulled on your coat. You followed Sherlock, leaving behind a half-full cup of tea, still steaming on the café table.

———————————

You and Sherlock took a cab to Baker Street. The reason you decided to go along with Sherlock no matter how you thought you were feeling was a selfish one.

With anyone else, you’d have already decided it wasn’t worth it. But to you, Sherlock was more than just someone you loved. He was your hobby, your passion, the foundation of life’s excitement, and he was the simple belief that you had the potential to be invaluable, to do something important with your life.

You wondered how you ever lived your life before you met him. In short, you were still here because of the simple fact that you weren’t willing to give up the feeling. Maybe one day, you'd learn to adjust your expectations.

Taking a deep breath, you followed Sherlock through the front door. As soon as you arrived, Mrs. Hudson scurried out from her flat on the main floor. She looked anxious, her brow furrowed.

“Sherlock, there’s someone waiting for you upstairs,” she said, her voice quivering slightly.

“Mrs. Hudson, are you alright?” you asked. She looked terrified.

Before she could answer, Sherlock began walking up the stairs, pulling you with him by the sleeve of your coat.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you saw two large armed men blocking the open doorway. Personal security? No wonder Mrs. Hudson had looked so frightened. You thought back to the last time there had been strange armed men in Baker Street.

Sherlock approached them and raised his arms. “Please,” he said cordially as one of the men began to pat him down.

The other security guard approached you, and you reluctantly allowed him to frisk you for weapons. Once you and Sherlock had been cleared and the armed bodyguards stepped to the side, you saw an unfamiliar man making himself comfortable in Sherlock’s chair. This must be Magnussen.

Sherlock approached him. “I understood we were meeting at your office.”

“This is my office,” Magnussen said gesturing to the room. “Well, it is now.” He stood up and walked over to Sherlock’s desk. With one hand, he fanned out the papers neatly stacked by the window.

At first, you couldn’t believe this was the man Sherlock had described. He had a softer speaking voice, a clear presence, but nothing that came off as initially threatening. He wasn't big or tall and was older than you’d expected. Everything about this man seemed confident but unassuming.

That was until he shifted his gaze to you. “Ah, how rude of me. This must be the lovely Miss Y/n. I’ve just read so much about you.” He took a few steps toward you. Read? Where would he have read anything about you? Due to your own preference, you weren’t often included much in John’s blog posts. He moved closer until he was right in front of you. He extended his hand out to you. You looked up into his eyes and immediately felt your stomach lurch. Now you saw that Sherlock’s description had been spot on. His pupils were large and vacant with nothing behind them, exactly like a shark.

When you didn't give him your hand, he reached out and forcefully grabbed your wrist. His strong grip caused you to cry out in shock. Sherlock took a step forward. Magnussen suddenly relaxed his hold and tenderly lifted your hand to his face. He brought your hand to his mouth and gently kissed your knuckles. You fought the urge to gag as you felt his damp lips brush your hand. Your nose crinkled slightly in disgust.

He chuckled at your reaction and dropped your hand. It was like he could smell your discomfort. Sherlock crossed the room and physically put himself between you and Magnussen.

“Mr. Magnussen,” Sherlock started, “I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband’s letters. Some time ago you ... put pressure on her concerning those letters.” Magnussen didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. He wandered to the bookshelf, running his hands across the spines. “She would like those letters back.”

Finally, he turned around to look in the direction of you and Sherlock. “Obviously, the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind-”

Magnussen abruptly let out a snort of amusement and looked from you to Sherlock. “Something, I said?” asked Sherlock, clearly agitated.

“Sorry, I was reading,” said Magnussen. He adjusted his glasses. “There’s rather a lot.”

Again what was he reading?

Magnussen turned to look at Sherlock. “Redbeard,” he said plainly. Sherlock blinked a few times, shock written on his face. "Sorry. You were probably talking?”

"I was trying to explain that I’ve been asked to act on behalf of ..."

Ignoring him, Magnussen turned to one of his guards. "Bathroom?"

"Along from the kitchen, sir" he replied.

"Okay," Magnussen acknowledged.

"I’ve been asked to negotiate the return of those letters," Sherlock continued, firmer this time. "I'm aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents..."

"Is it like the rest of the flat?" Magnussen addressed his security again.

"Sir?"

"The bathroom?"

"Er, yes, sir."

"Maybe not, then."

You were stunned. You had never been in a situation where Sherlock could not maintain control of a room. He could out-wit and out-speak anyone you had met. You had seen him squeeze information and even involuntary confessions from some of the world's most intelligent criminals for years. And yet, this man was walking all over him.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?”

"Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her." Magnussen sat down in Sherlock's chair and smiled, patting the arms.

"Mr. Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock repeated.

"She’s English, with a spine." He moved to put his feet on the coffee table, kicking off books and papers. You could see Sherlock frown out of the corner of your eye. "the best thing about the English: you’re so domesticated. All standing around, apologizing..." He stood up again and wandered over to the fireplace. "... keeping your little heads down."

You thought you heard him unzipping his pants. "You can do what you like here. No one’s ever going to stop you. A nation of herbivores." He glanced over his shoulder. Much to your disgust, you could hear him urinating into the fireplace. "I’ve interests all over the world but, er, everything starts in England. If it works here, I’ll try it in a real country."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he zipped up his pants and turned to the security guard. The guard handed him a wet wipe. "The United Kingdom, huh? Petri dish to the Western world." he wiped his hands and discarded the wipe onto the floor.

He walked over to Sherlock. "Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those letters, so I’m keeping them."

He walked past Sherlock and over to you. "Goodbye," he said with a wink as he passed. He paused in the doorway "Anyway ..." He opened his jacket and pulled out some folded papers to show Sherlock. "... they’re funny."

Magnussen and his guards walked down the stairs and out the door.

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

A/N:

Yikes guys its been a minute. Sorry about that. I'm still here though and I am determined to finish this story whether anyone is still reading or not :) ! It's the first thing I have written in years so hopefully it's not too bad!

#Sherlock #bbcsherlock #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagine #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes x you #his last vow

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queerofthedagger · 8 months

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I finished Mansfield Park tonight which concludes my read of all of Austen's books, so I can finally give my - entirely subjective don't come for me - ranking of her books. They are all objectively good, and this is for little reason but my own entertainment, but yk.

Persuasion

Emma

Pride & Prejudice

Sense & Sensibility

Northanger Abbey

Mansfield Park

The first three are incredibly close to each other, I loved all of them greatly. I'll frankly need to re-read Sense and Sensibility at some point because it's been years. Both Northaner Abbey and Mansfield Park were.... really not my jam. I just have such an intense dislike for the shy, insecure heroine trope which, again, I know is entirely subjective, but it hands-down almost made me DNF Mansfield Park. The social commentary is still on point, and i get what she's trying to do and say there! It's just. wow. I would not have finished it if not for the fact that I love her writing, and more or less the same applied to Northanger Abbey for me.

#*mine #jane austen #this isn't very thought-out or attempting analysis honestly but yk #mona rambles #i think it's really lucky coincidence that northanger abbey and mansfield park were those i read last because idk if i'd have gone on with-#much of her stuff if either of them had been the first one actually

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stahlop · 7 months

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Once Upon a Time 4x06 "Family Business" Review

We learn a little more about the Snow Queen’s plans and about her past with Emma. And apparently Belle and Anna knew each other but Belle has kept it a secret from Elsa because she’s ashamed that she wanted her memories more than saving a girl she’d just met. So apparently shame is a big deterrent in not helping save Anna this time too.

Summary: The Snow Queen leads our heroes on a chase so they can see that she actually cared for Emma at one point. In the past, Belle can’t remember how her mother died in an Ogre attack, so she goes to Arendelle to visit the Rock Trolls and meets Princess Anna who is looking for information on her Aunt Ingrid.

Opening: Ice Cream Truck

New Characters:

Belle’s Mother (Colette): First off, I really thought Belle’s mother would get more air time in this episode, considering she’s played by Frances O’Connor (known for Mansfield Park, AI, The Importance of Being Earnest), but alas, she’s killed off pretty quickly. We do see where Belle gets her love of reading from, as they both try to get priceless books out of the library before the Ogre attacks them. They end up hiding under a table, and I’m confused about how he finds them. Does he hear them, because it was established that Ogres were blind back in Lady of the Lake. However he figured out where they were, Colette does not end up making it through the attack.

Character Observations:

Belle: In the past, Belle and her mother are attacked in their library by an Ogre. I get that there are priceless books in there (or in Belle’s case, the book that she remembers her mother first reading to her), but Ogres are attacking. You can come back for the books once they leave! Belle and her mother get trapped under a table and the last thing Belle remembers is the Ogre lifting the table off them and yelling in their faces. Belle awakens to find her mother is dead and she can’t remember how she died (I’m guessing an Ogre killed her). Belle is insistent in trying to recover her memories, but her father doesn’t think that’s a good idea. She tells him about magical beings who can restore memories, but he brings up the whole ‘All magic comes with a price’ line and tells her she is not to leave. Belle makes up her mind to go to Arendelle anyway, where she meets Anna at Oaken’s. Anna also happens to be going to see the Rock Trolls, so they decide to go together. They discuss the fact that they both lost their mothers, and when Anna slips trying to get up the mountain, Belle discovers the hat box (that she stole from Rumple in The Apprentice). Anna won’t give much away to Belle about the evil wizard she stole it from, just tells her she hopes she never meets him. Well, Anna, maybe if you’d given Belle a hint, she wouldn’t be married to him now! Somehow, despite the fact that they could barely make it up the first rock, they get to the top to the Rock Trolls. Grand Pabbie pulls the memory from Belle’s consciousness and puts it in a stone which he tells her to brew in tea at the place where she lost her memory (nice plot point so she can’t brew it right away), and when she drinks the tea she’ll remember what happened to her mother. On the way back down the mountain they get caught up in a storm. Anna is convinced it’s her Aunt Ingrid. When Belle asks what she’s going to do about it, Anna pulls out the hat box again and says she’s going to take her aunt’s magic. And that’s when a big gust of wind comes, knocking the memory stone out of Belle’s hand, and knocking Anna off the trail so she’s hanging off the edge of the mountain. Belle tries to go for the stone first, but it’s knocked off the edge and shatters. Then she tries to get Anna, but Anna falls. Belle witnesses the Snow Queen poof Anna away. Belle returns home and tells her father she didn’t find what she was looking for and her trip was a huge mistake. Maurice finally tells Belle what happened. That her mother stood in the path of the Ogre while the guards pulled Belle to safety, and her mother was killed before the guards could get back. Maurice tells her the war isn’t going well, and Belle suggests calling upon a powerful wizard she read about (not putting together that this might be the same wizard Anna was warning her about). Maurice knows who she is talking about and doesn’t want to call him, but Belle thinks it’s their only choice so they can win the war and so she can be a hero like her mother.

Meanwhile, in Storybrooke, Belle is keeping a secret that she knew Anna back in their realm. Elsa wants to research Arendelle in the library with Belle, which is making her very uncomfortable. Elsa starts having a crisis of faith about finding Anna, but Belle tells her she will find Anna, but she looks very guilty about the whole thing. Belle decides the best thing to do is go to the Snow Queen’s hideout, and ‘commands’ Rumple to take her to her lair using the dagger. When they get there, Rumple tells Belle that the Snow Queen isn’t there, but she’s okay with that. She’s looking for the hat to strip someone of their powers! Too bad she doesn’t know Rumple hid it away at the shop, would’ve saved her a trip. Rumple wonders why Belle is helping a stranger. She gives him the excuse that a hero always helps people. She makes Rumple keep watch while she goes inside to look for the hat box. Instead, she hears someone calling for her from behind a covered mirror. When she takes the sheet off, it’s her reflection, but it tells her things she doesn’t want to hear. Basically, all her insecurities, like that Rumple doesn’t really trust her and he didn’t give her the real dagger (listen to the mirror, Belle). Rumple comes in, warning Bell they have to leave since the Snow Queen is coming. She lashes out and cuts him with the dagger before he poofs them back to the shop. Belle starts to believe what mirror Belle said about the dagger, since she had commanded Rumple to stay outside. He gets around that by saying she said to keep watch, and since the Snow Queen was coming back, he was allowed to go in and get her. Belle breaks down when she sees she has cut him and tells him all the awful things the mirror told her. Rumple assures her none of it is true. Belle confesses that Anna is missing because of her and feels guilty for using the dagger on Rumple. She doesn’t think she’s worthy of his love. Oh, lord, if only Belle knew how it’s Rumple who isn’t worthy of her love with all of his lies, manipulation, and deceit. She then spreads on the guilt even thicker by apologizing for keeping this secret, since she knows Rumple would never keep a secret from her. UGH! Belle finally confesses to Elsa about knowing Anna and how the Snow Queen captured her. Belle tells Emma, Elsa, and Killian about the mirror. Rumple has told her that it will be used for the Spell of Shattered Sight, turning the whole town on one another.

Emma: She shows everyone the video of the Snow Queen as her foster mother. Henry suggests looking for her ice cream truck to either find her or find clues. They end up finding it out by the Merry Men’s camp. Robin wants to talk to Regina, but she rebuffs him. Emma tells her she could have been nicer, but Regina tells her to stay out of it and is upset she has to deal with her and Killian making eyes at each other. Emma protests this, but then Killian definitely makes eyes at her. Once inside the truck, neither Regina nor Killian notice the lock on the freezer (how did these two last so long as villains when they don’t even notice details?). Killian uses his hook to break the lock and they find a file on Emma inside, starting from the article on how she was found on the side of the road. Emma looks through the file and discovers she stayed with the Snow Queen for six months, the longest she’d ever stayed anywhere. Killian asks if she’s okay, but she just tells him it was a long time ago, prompting a conversation about the fact that Killian was once a child about 200 years ago. Emma realizes that the Snow Queen has kept old art projects and essays and a card Emma wrote to her, and that someone doesn’t do that unless they care about you. They also discover a scroll with Arendelle writing on it. Back at the sheriff’s station, Elsa has discovered that the Snow Queen is her aunt. She and Emma look at the family tree and discover another sister that Killian thinks looks just like Emma (I really don’t see that except for the fact that she is blonde). Elsa sees the scroll and translates it. It basically says that Emma is the Savior and will become Ingrid’s (the Snow Queen) sister. Belle comes in letting them know about the mirror and the Shattered Sight spell, and Emma and Elsa figure out that they’ll be the only two left that aren’t affected so the Snow Queen can have her family.

Ingrid/The Snow Queen: Anna is introduced to Ingrid who let’s Anna know that the reason she doesn’t know her is because she was put in an urn by people who didn’t understand her. She shows Anna that she also has the same powers as Elsa and that it runs in the family. We don’t see Ingrid again until Anna is on her way back from the Rock Trolls. Ingrid creates a storm that results in Anna falling off a mountain. Ingrid steals the hat box from Anna before poofing them back to the castle. Ingrid has Anna locked in a cell in the dungeons of the castle. She accuses Anna of wanting to strip Elsa of her powers with the hat. Anna claims she wasn’t going to use it on Elsa, but that their parents were. Anna then reveals that the Rock Trolls told her she had another sister and Ingrid gets very angry. Anna asks what Ingrid wants. Ingrid says she wanted a family that would embrace her for who she was, but she doesn’t think Anna can be part of that family since she has nothing in common with her and Elsa. She will have to find someone else to take Anna’s place.

Rumple seeks out the Snow Queen and lets her know Emma is on to her. The Snow Queen tells him that Emma didn’t discover anything she didn’t want her to discover. She goes head to head with Rumple which is pretty fantastic. He doesn’t scare her like he does most others. She tells him to stay out of her way, Later, after Belle has glimpsed the mirror, Rumple comes back to confront the Snow Queen about it. They posture and threaten each other again: Rumple telling her she better now hurt anyone he loves with her plans and the Snow Queen claiming she can’t make any guarantees. Rumple shows her that he has the hat and the Snow Queen shows fear for the first time.

Anna: She comes back from Misthaven and lies to Elsa about what she’s found out. She notices there are no flurries or any of Elsa’s normal icy behaviors happening. Elsa excitedly introduces Anna to their Aunt Ingrid and Anna immediately goes into disbelieving mode. She immediately goes to Kristoff and tells him that she doesn’t trust Ingrid. She claims to be a good judge of character, but Kristoff calls her out on that as she almost married Hans after 10 minutes. Anna doesn’t understand why there isn’t any record of Ingrid anywhere, so she wants to visit the Rock Trolls to find out about her. She also tells Kristoff that she didn’t tell Elsa what she found out on her trip. Unfortunately, Ingrid has been listening to their conversation. Anna runs into Belle at Oaken’s and since they are going to the same place, invites her to come with her to visit the Rock Trolls. Anna asks Grand Pabbie about Ingrid and he tells her that her mother actually had two sisters, and they were quite close. But then one day Ingrid and their other sister, Helga, vanished, so the royal family asked the Rock Trolls to make everyone forget them. This makes Anna think Ingrid is a liar because she didn’t tell them about this (um, wasn’t she trapped in an urn until recently), and needs to get back to the castle fast. Ingrid causes a storm and imprisons Anna, telling her she can’t be part of their family because she is the outsider.

Questions:

Why are they wondering how the Snow Queen got to our world? My first thought would be a magic bean since we’ve seen them several times at this point. I know they were supposed to be gone, but that obviously wasn’t true.

What is up with Belle’s traveling outfit? It’s a short skirt that has that caveman-like cut and knee-high stockings! And it’s white! Plus she’s in full make up.

Can someone please explain why Emma was moved around in foster care so much that six months was the longest she was anywhere? Isn’t the point of foster care to find a family to take them in so their life isn’t disrupted so much? No wonder Emma is the way she is if she was moved from family to family so much she couldn’t ever form any bonds.

Once again, what is up with Belle’s Storybrooke outfit? She’s going to infiltrate the Snow Queen’s lair in a short skirt and knee high boots (I mean, they are fur lined, but still)?

Ingrid told Anna she’d been trapped in an urn, so why would Anna think she knew anything about her family erasing everyone’s memories?

Who’s voice is coming from the mirror before Belle takes the cover off. It’s not speaking in Belle’s normal accent.

So, did Colette and Belle somehow get up when the Ogre pulled the table off of them? Maurice says her mother stood up to the Ogre, but they’d been lying under a table.

Why was Belle so worried about the Ogres reaching the road? They’d already been to the castle.

Where did this prophecy come from? Most prophecies aren’t so literal.

Observations:

The first book Belle’s mother ever read to her was called Her Handsome Hero.

Belle is wearing her blue movie dress. We saw her wear this in Rumple’s castle in Skin Deep. I had assumed that it had been something Rumple had given her since she didn’t bring anything with her, but maybe Rumple magicked her belongings to the castle at some point.

If this were real life, Anna would be so dead, or at least have multiple broken bones after falling off the mountain.

Rumple looks into the Snow Queen’s mirror and nothing happens.

The Snow Queen’s plan to use a mirror for the Spell of Shattered Sight comes directly from the Hans Christian Anderson story The Snow Queen. Although it is not her mirror that shatters, but the devil’s mirror. Read the tale here.

The false eyelashes on Belle are over the top this episode.

Timeline Issues:

Emma says she’s 13, maybe 14 in the video, but it’s supposed to be 1998, and in the fall. Emma was born in 1983, so that would make her 15, maybe 14 if it’s still the beginning of October.

If Anna met Belle before Belle met Rumple, then how old must she be now? Belle lived with Rumple, probably for at least a year (despite the short time we saw in Skin Deep and Lacey), and then she went on the adventure with Mulan to find the Yaoguai in The Outsider, and then she was captured by the Evil Queen and imprisoned for about 2 ½ years according to the hash marks in her cell in that we saw in Queen of Hearts. We know Elsa was trapped in the urn (although we don’t know how), but it had to have happened before Snow and Charming met, as it came through the time portal with Emma and Killian during There’s No Place Like Home, and as we saw, Belle was still Rumplestiltskin’s maid at this time. Assuming Arendelle wasn’t part of the curse (which, it shouldn’t be since it wasn’t part of the Enchanted Forest), at least 35 years must have passed from what we just saw.

So the Snow Queen apparently cared about Emma, but what happened for Emma to leave and the Snow Queen make her forget? How did she get to our land if not by my theory of a magic bean? The Snow Queen is planning to tear the town apart just so she can get Emma and Elsa to become her sisters, and Rumple is being a conniving ass as usual.

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#once upon a time #once upon a time rewatch #once upon a time review #once upon a time 4x06 #once upon a time family business

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jackoshadows · 2 years

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There is a strain of thought in the Asoiaf fandom that because Jon and Arya love each other as brother and sister, that it’s impossible for these cousins to fall in romantic love when they are older.

There is plenty of classic romance out there between close friends, cousins and step siblings who grow up together as children and where a platonic attachment turns romantic later on. As anyone who has read Austen could tell you, it’s a rather bizarre supposition that it’s impossible for the platonic love and strong emotional bonds between two characters ever turning romantic.

Mansfield Park has first cousins falling in love despite Edmund and Fanny growing up together and being good friends. In Emma, the protagonists have a 16 year age difference and Emma grows up treating Mr. Knightley as family (She calls him ‘brother’) and we see that slowly change over the course of the novel.

There’s Austen’s satirical short story Frederic and Elfrida, where these characters who end up marrying each other are thus described:

The Uncle of Elfrida was the Father of Frederic; in other words, they were first cousins by the Father's side. Being both born in one day & both brought up at one school, it was not wonderful that they should look on each other with something more than bare politeness. They loved with mutual sincerity, but were both determined not to transgress the rules of Propriety by owning their attachment, either to the object beloved, or to any one else.

Others have mentioned the parallels between Jon/Arya and Heathcliff and Catherine from Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. Earnshaw being fond of Heathcliff and bringing him up with his children. Heathcliff and Catherine being fond of each other, their passionate love and ultimately their tragic end.

Friends to lovers is a popular trope for a reason, where platonic love gradually turns to romance and sexual attraction.

Arya will be more forgiving ... until she realizes, with terror, that she has fallen in love with Jon, who is not only her half-brother but a man of the Night's Watch, sworn to celibacy. Their passion will continue to torment Jon and Arya throughout the trilogy, until the secret of Jon's true parentage is finally revealed in the last book. - Original Outline, GRRM, 1993

More importantly, ASoIaF is set in a world where some of what GRRM considers to be ‘great love stories’ happens between two close siblings. This is a fantasy, made up world by the author and applying real world norms and science to this fictional world makes no sense.

Some examples of note. There’s Alysanne and Jaehaerys who grew up very close siblings, were in love with each other, married each other and described as such by GRRM:

There’s the tragic love story of Prince Aemon the Dragon Knight and Naerys Targaryen, again, close siblings growing up.

Aemon was inseparable from his sister Naerys when they were young. Stories speak of Aemon's doomed love for his sister. Aemon and Naerys supposedly loved each other.According to the singers, both Aemon and Naerys cried the day Naerys married Aegon

There’s Alyssa and Baelon Targaryen.

“Alyssa is for Baelon,” she declared. “She has been following him around since she could walk. They are as close as you and I were at their age.” (The Long Reign - Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy, Progeny, and Pain, Fire and Blood)

In ASoIaF itself, we have the Lannister twins Jaime and Cersei who grew up together and who are sexually attracted towards each other. It’s telling that GRRM textually writes Jon and Arya as clear foils to Jaime and Cersei.

Qyburn’s words were terse and to the point, Cersei’s fevered and fervent. Come at once, she said. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

Vyman was hovering by the door, waiting, and Jaime sensed that Peck was watching too. “Does my lord wish to answer?” the maester asked, after a long silence.

A snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.” - Jaime, AFfC

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night’s Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon’s breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird’s nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

“I think we had best change the plan,” Jon Snow said. - Jon, ADwD

Essentially, the incestual attraction and love that happens in the world of asoiaf is between close siblings who grow up together. That’s the trend in this world. Arguing this or that incest makes more sense because the characters are not close or have never met might sound logical when we apply real world scientific norms to this fictional setting or might even help make the relationship more palatable for some readers put off by incest. However, in GRRM’s fictional world it’s the close siblings who fall in romantic love and end up marrying each other.

If we apply the trends and patterns of incestual romance (happy or sad, good or bad) in the world of ASoIaF, then there’s simply more chance of Jon and Arya happening than any other incestual pairing for Jon Snow. And the original outline is enough proof of this. Jon and Arya falling in love was where GRRM was headed and where he still could be headed considering the current books are still hitting some of the same story beats and plot points mentioned in the original outline.

#Jon Snow #Arya Stark #Needleheartwinter #Lovers and relationships

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