#reuben vanderpoel

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Saltinna in a fairy tale AU for the AU ask game, please!!

OOOOOHHHHHHHH

Dunstan is quite literally a knight in shining armor. Everyone who loves him in the og book is constantly saying "this man needs to wear a suit of armor." Well, lads and lasses, we're giving him a suit of armor.

Bettina's a princess; her dad is the wealthy king of a small kingdom. They're not regarded as much as far as power, size, or reputation, but under his reign they've become quite wealthy.

Sir Nigel is now Evil King Nigel, and he is the evil king of a small country and all his peasants largely ignore him, because despite being an Evil King, he is also a Poor And Powerless King, which leads him to his tricky and manipulative political marriage to beautiful princess Rosalie.

So I'm just now seeing this in my drafts and I think it's supposed to be five things? But how about this dolldivine instead?

[allthingslinguistic]

There are several particularly good examples of this in books by Frances Hodgson Burnett, who lived in both the UK and the US and several times depicts characters from those two places encountering each other. For example, The Shuttle was published in 1907 and has this delightful passage of two British characters encountering an American:

“Upon my word,” Mr. Penzance commented, and his amiable fervour quite glowed, “I like that queer young fellow—I like him. He does not wish to 'butt in too much.' Now, there is rudimentary delicacy in that. And what a humorous, forceful figure of speech! Some butting animal—a goat, I seem to see, preferably—forcing its way into a group or closed circle of persons.” His gleeful analysis of the phrase had such evident charm for him that Mount Dunstan broke into a shout of laughter, even as G. Selden had done at the adroit mention of Weber & Fields. “Shall we ride over together to see him this morning? An hour with G. Selden, surrounded by the atmosphere of Reuben S. Vanderpoel, would be a cheering thing,” he said. “It would,” Mr. Penzance answered. “Let us go by all means. We should not, I suppose,” with keen delight, “be 'butting in' upon Lady Anstruthers too early?” He was quite enraptured with his own aptness. “Like G. Selden, I should not like to 'butt in,'” he added.

And the more I see historical examples of people encountering novel expressions that are utterly unremarkable to us now, the more I think, you know what, I might as well approach language change with gleeful delight rather than a fussbudgety sniff.

But there was a period of friction, when “hello” was spreading beyond its summoning origins to become a general-purpose greeting, and not everyone was a fan. I was reminded of this when watching a scene in the BBC television series Call the Midwife, set in the late 1950s and early 1960s, where a younger midwife greets an older one with a cheerful “Hello!” “When I was in training,” sniffs the older character, “we were always taught to say ‘good morning,’ ‘good afternoon,’ or ‘good evening.’ ‘Hello’ would not have been permitted.” To the younger character, “hello” has firmly crossed the line into a phatic greeting. But to the older character, or perhaps more accurately to her instructors as a young nurse, “hello” still retains an impertinent whiff of summoning. Etiquette books as late as the 1940s were still advising against “hello,” but in the mouth of a character from the 1960s, being anti-hello is intended to make her look like a fussbudget, especially playing for an audience of the future who’s forgotten that anyone ever objected to “hello.”

Because Internet, Gretchen McCulloch

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Ice Cream"

The Shuttle drabble for @monthly-challenge day 14!

Since the shuttle first began its weaving, families have always been families. Little boys have always been little boys, and grandfathers have always sought to spoil them.

Reuben Vanderpoel was no exception to this rule, and on his visits to England, he would dote on his grandson. An annual trip would be taken into town together— just Ughtred and his grandpa Reuben— to see a show, to the toy store and the pet store with all the weasels and dogs.

And at the end of the day, they would always stop and get ice cream.

Grandfathers have always been grandfathers.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"as the sun rose and seasons changed" ch 1/2

Summary: Lord Mount Dunstan is ready to propose to the love of his life, but first he must ask her father's blessing.

a/n: 116 years ago, Frances Hodgson Burnett wrote one of the most immaculate love stories in existence. I first read it over a decade ago, and fell in love with it, though even then I found myself thinking "why didn't we get to see the proposal?" I brushed it off, assuming even before I knew what fanfiction was that someone must've written it in the last century. I was wrong. No such fanfiction existed. Until now. (also! the fic title is a reference to a line from the book! if anyone can figure out where that line came from before I post the second part of this fic, they will earn my undying respect!)

taglist: @melliabee @accidental-spice @kanerallels [if you've read the shuttle, shoot me a dm or ask, and I'll add you to the taglist!]

Also on Ao3!

Part I: "AS ANY LUNATIC EVER WAS"

 When Red Godwyn had begun his wooing, he began it with great fanfare, with pomp and circumstance, with the stealing away of his intended bride from her father, and the display of everything he had to offer.

 Godwyn's blood still ran through the veins of the fifteenth Earl of Mount Dunstan, but time itself flowed differently. These days, women were not impressed by mere strength (of which the man had an abundance,) nor wealth (of which he had little)- nor could her affections be won by ripping her away from her family– especially a family that had just fought tooth and nail to pull itself back together.

 So when James Hubert John Fergus Saltyre, the fifteenth Earl of Mount Dunstan, finally began his wooing of Bettina Vanderpoel– though in truth, the hand of Fate had been "wooing" them to each other since the moment their threads began to entwine- he began quietly, with conversations through stolen glances– until the opportune moment to speak them– and with days on end spent at Dunstanwolde with her father– with the display of all of the nothing he had to offer.

 Since before even his childhood, Dunstan had been well acquainted with these halls and rooms, though many of them had not known him or any other soul for over a decade. It was better that way, that he wouldn't have to watch as they fell deeper and deeper into decay– though he and decay had as well been well acquainted– at least, until the advent of Miss Vanderpoel in his life. Now, as he looked at the empty rooms falling into disrepair, he couldn't stop himself from imagining what they'd look like when– not when, if, it was still if, if she should breathe her Life into them– just as she had at Stornham Court, and into the last social season, and especially into his own life. Were it not for her life breathed into him, he'd be six feet underground by now, leaving behind the forgotten estate and the bygone eras of the Earls of Mount Dunstan. And instead, because of her, these rooms could be full of Life once again.

 But this potential he made certain not to point out to her father. He saw the way Reuben S. Vanderpoel studied the rooms, sizing them up in his mind, inventorying the way things were to account for his calculations of how they ought be– it was a skill that his daughter had no doubt inherited from him– but Lord Mount Dunstan's goal was to impress neither of them with empty promises and false potential, but to show without deception what he had to offer– nothing, all that nothing laid bare, and without drawing attention even to his own potential, as though it were an asset unto itself.

 After just shy of a week's time spent going over the grounds, Lord Mount Dunstan and Reuben Vanderpoel III sat down for lunch, as had been their routine. On some days, the vicar would join them, and on some Miss Vanderpoel or Lady Anstruthers and their mother might attend– but today the two men dined alone together, Vanderpoel occasionally breaking the silence with a clever anecdote or question, which did little to put Dunstan at ease or carry on hearty conversation.

 After lunch, Lord Mount Dunstan invited Mr. Vanderpoel to join him out in the gardens, and they walked together in silence for some time, until Dunstan finally spoke.

 "You know why I've shown you the bareness of it all," he said, rather like statement of fact, "You're a clever man, and you'd gather it all without my telling you."

 "Indeed," said Reuben, who had himself seen on many occasion the working of the Primeval Thing.

 "I feel I'd be no sort of man if I didn't speak it all to you regardless," Dunstan said, hoping the words didn't flounder as they left his mouth, "I want you to know that I can offer your daughter nothing. All I own is a crumbling ruin, overgrown lawns, a title of a blackguard– unjustly endowed, but the fact still remains. Of graces, I have none, and of learning, nothing of note, and I've not a shilling to my name. I once believed I could even offer my pride, but with how I've allowed it to be stripped away, I'm afraid I've not even that left to offer."

 As he'd spoken, he'd been looking at Vanderpoel- though not with the courage to look in his eyes. Now, filled with a passion other than fear- unless the fear was that fear of losing the one thing he held dear- he looked the other man in the eyes, with the boldness and determination of a knight set out to war, determined to conquer and return to his beloved.

 "But I am in love," he said, "I love Betty more than anything I've ever known. Without her, I may as well be dead," and as someone who'd come as close to death as life can, he meant every word he spoke, "and for all my flaws and weakness, my only regrets are that she wasn't in my life sooner, and that when she was, I wronged her, by delaying in telling the truth to myself and to her. I love your daughter, Reuben Vanderpoel," and true as it was, he felt a lunatic to say it, "and I would like your permission to marry her."

 As he'd spoken, Mount Dunstan had watched Vanderpoel's stern expression. He had every right to be stern, to be cross, to be overbearing. Certainly, Rueben Vanderpoel had had this conversation before– over a decade ago, across the Atlantic, when the most despicable sort of man imaginable had taken Rosalie away from them.

 What was to say this was any different? No man could see inside Dunstan's heart, see the genuine affection he had for Betty– not for her beauty or the Vanderpoel millions, but for her– and without that love, he himself was of the despicable lot that preys upon the fortunes of näive American millionairesses. What was to say Mount Dunstan wasn't plotting a similar trap? Rueben Vanderpoel had every right to suspect such to be the case. He had every right to assume the worst. He had every right to beat him for his insolence in even asking, then ride off the grounds, pack himself and his daughters back onboard the Maridana, and head back to America, for England never to hear from the Vanderpoels again.

 But instead, Rueben Vanderpoel smiled- almost smiled- fought hard to hold back a smile.

 "Of everything with the Vanderpoel name on it," Rueben said, "the thing of the most value to me is Bettina. She's a treasure and a friend like none in the world- and when we thought her sister lost to us for good, I said that, if ever a man should try to win her affections, unless he held her in that same esteem I have for her, that I would do whatever I could to prevent such a union from happening."

 Lord Mount Dunstan gulped as the other man stepped toward him, and reached out a hand– and placed it on the lord's shoulder.

 "But it seems to me that not even I treasure my daughter as you do," Rueben Vanderpoel said, "and with confidence in that, I have no objection. You have my blessing to marry my daughter."

 Dunstan smiled, almost laughed a little, hope and life like he'd never known filling the very air he breathed.

 "Thank you, sir," he smiled, "you truly have no idea how much it means to me– how much she means to me."

 "Be good to her, son."

 And Dunstan saw the seriousness in his eyes as he said that.

 "Upon my word," Dunstan nodded, "should I ever– God forbid it!– cause even the slightest harm to fall upon your daughter by any ill will or mistreatment," and the very thought of himself causing harm to Bettina caused the neolithic rage to boil in his blood, "then may I be cast out, beaten, forgotten!"

 "I do not believe you will ever be brought to hurt her," Rueben said, "and I owe you a debt of gratitude for your watchful eye over her and her sister in my absence."

 "She's a remarkable woman," Dunstan shook his head, "Bettina could carry the world on her shoulders alone."

 "And how fortunate I am," Rueben smiled, "that she'll never have to bear a burden alone again."

 "Believe me, sir," Dunstan said, as the two men turned back to the estate, "if anyone's fortunate, it's me."

 He smiled again, a year ago feeling fortune had all but abandoned him– and now about to have everything he'd ever dreamed of and more, when Bettina only said "yes," to him.

 He tried not to let himself hope for it too much, though, knowing Bettina Vanderpoel still had every right and reason to choose any man other than him– and that that "when" stamped on his happiness was still just an "if."

[kazoosandfannypacks]

reference images: dress • suit • masks

@melliabee surprise! I was your secret trick-or-treat gifter!

This is an idea I came up with the other day for a Shuttle au where Betty and Dunstan meet at a masquerade ball. Both of them are drawn to the mystery aspect of this sort of party— the idea that, instead of being the daughter of the great Reuben Vanderpoel III, or part of the lot of that no-good line of Mount Dunstans, they can start fresh, escape their fathers' legacies even if just for one night and see what others would think of them if not for the reputation that proceeds them.

Some way or another, this red-haired man begins talking to a woman who, though much of her face is obscured, and perhaps all the more obvious for it, bears eyes as blue as bluebells underwater, and they spend their time at the masquerade side by side in blissful anonymity.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Okay so I love ALL OF THIS! And what if- what if the stag was kind of like The Bullet in Hamilton (look it up if you're unfamiliar) that would be cool! OR there's a similar character instead called The Shuttle that represents fate weaving its way through their lives AND The Shuttle also plays the stag, among other roles! But that's just a thought

Here's a list of ideas I wrote down a few years ago, and some description I came up with now for them:

* That song I mentioned that sparked this entire discussion, in which Nigel is flirting with Rosy and young Betty is telling him off

* A song about Rosalie and Betty writing letters to each other, which would involve letters being written back and forth from one sister to the other, spotlight on whichever sister is writing, stagehands passing the letters back and forth, each letter intercepted by Nigel, and it would feature Betty growing up alá "I Know It's Today" from Shrek the Musical. It may end with Nigel singing his own twisted reprise of the chorus.

* A song in which Betty's mom helps her prepare for some fancy party or something and in which mother secretly laments the loss of Rosie, inspiring Betty to take action

* Dunstan's song, kinda like Santa Fe; uses machinery in background music, takes place at the harbor

* A comparison Betty makes between England & Rosalie

* A song about the nature in Betty and Dunstan's walk

* Rosalie's song about Ffolliot

* The Fifteenth Earl of Mount Dunstan/ Unusual Friendship, which would talk about Dunstan's family history and then his current life and his friendship with Penzance

*Betty & Rosalie talking about the people of London

*A song sung by Kedger about the gardens and Betty and by the carpenter and possibly other castle servants?

* Typewriter salesman song! This one would be a fun, kinda upbeat kind of song, markedly different from the rest of the musical.

* The Rest of the World - Selden and Betty, singing about their very different lives.

* You Are Life- Dunstan and Betty

* Sir Nigel's return

* Ballroom dance- I was also thinking instrumental on this one!

* Thomas & Jane- They don't show up in many other places, but they should have a sweet little song. Stereotypical love song. Ya know.

* Mary and Dunstan singing abut Betty. All the things Mary is pointing are out the things Dunstan had noticed from the first. It would end with Dunstan's own reflections, without Mary, but interrupted by Betty's presence

*Red Godwyn, in which Dunstan would tell the story of the red haired man and the girl with eyes like bluebells underwater, which would relate to their story and end with a moment between them

* Life Reprise- Dunstan and Penzance about Betty

* Dunstan meeting Nigel at Mount Dunstan

* Selden & Friends all talking at the bar

* G Selden & Reuben S. Vanderpoel's song.

* Betty on the Marsh, which would start with her talking and lead to her starting a song, but she would be interrupted by Nigel, who's part would have similar vibes to the Mother Knows Best Reprise from Tangled

*The Confrontation of Nigel. I have know idea what I meant by this but it may be combined into the previous song

* Typhoid fever- I also have no idea what I meant for this one to be

* A New order of Mount Dunstan- Everyone singing about how much Dunstan is different from his family and how much of an impact he's had on their lives.

* Comparing Ffolliot and Dunstan- I have no idea here but I think it's self explanatory

* When we hear the passing bell toll- Betty being nervous about Dunstan's bout with typhoid and regretful that she never told him how she truly feels, and wishes she has more time "before the passing bell tolls-" a phrase that will often be repeated in the song until it's interrupted by the toll of the bell.

* The Prayer- again, just a title but should be self explanatory

* You Who Died Today- Betty's internal monologue again, more intense, from her riding away from the court to her being found by Nigel and continuing as she tries to escape

* The Moment- In which Dunstan saves the day

And yeah, that's what I came up with. Thoughts?

The Shuttle musical thoughts

@kazoosandfannypacks @melliabee

It’s such an interesting exercise to consider staging a story instead of giving your imagination the unlimited budget of a Hollywood drama

Keep reading

[kazoosandfannypacks]

For the director's cut ask game - ⭐ for your favorite fic you've written!

As the Sun Rose and Seasons Changed: Director's Commentary

I already got to talk about my favorite fic, This is (Kinda) the Way, so I thought I'd share instead another fic I'm proud of. This one is an important missing moment from my favorite 1907 novel, The Shuttle, one that I keep saying "oh, surely someone already wrote a fanfic about this!" about, but once I realized no one had, I knew the torch must be passed to me.

This commentary contains spoilers for Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Shuttle. If you've not read The Shuttle, don't read this commentary! Instead, read this list of reasons you should read The Shuttle, or just cut out the middleman of my campaigning and go read it for free right now on libby, project gutenburg, or as a pdf!

Starting right off, why did I name it what I did? Well, the title of the fic is taken from this quote from Lord Mount Dunstan in ch. 35: The Tidal Wave, which, if you remember, is the scene in which Dunstan finally confesses his feelings about Betty to Penzance.

“The Book of Revelations has shown to me how—how MAGNIFICENT life might be!” Mount Dunstan clenched and unclenched his hands, his eyes flashing. “Magnificent—that is the word. To go to her on equal ground to take her hands and speak one's passion as one would—as her eyes answered. Oh, one would know! To bring her home to this place—having made it as it once was—to live with her here—to be WITH her as the sun rose and set and the seasons changed—with the joy of life filling each of them. SHE is the joy of Life—the very heart of it. You see where I am—you see!”

The first chapter title "As Any Lunatic Has Ever Been," is also taken from the same chapter of the book.

Mount Dunstan threw back his head with a big, harsh laugh. He came out of the shadow and stood still. “Well,” he said, “I am in love—as much in love as any lunatic ever was—with the daughter of Reuben S. Vanderpoel. There you are—and there I am!”

This line has always struck me as a beautiful one, especially held in contrast to this line from his narrative foil, the dearly despised Nigel Anstruthers.

“Are you QUITE mad?” she said. “Not quite,” he answered; “only three parts—but I am beyond my own control.

There's something to be said about Nigel only allowing his lust towards Betty to drive him "three parts" of the way mad, but Dunstan finally admitting that his love and devotion for Betty has finally driven him all the way to the point of what may as well be insanity.

Anyway, we're here to talk about my fic, not about parallels in The Shuttle.

(Though, if you'd LIKE to talk about parallels in The Shuttle, or even just about The Shuttle in general, my dms and inbox are always open ;))

I love writing fics based on this book because I tend to match the voice of the media I'm writing from (dwampyist humor in Milo Murphy's Law fics; first person in Percy Jackson fics, ect.) and The Shuttle fics give me a chance to write before an audience with great pomp and splendor, using many archaic and descriptive words, copying Burnett's style, filling in with seventy-five words what a modern author might write in only seven. It's almost a form of poetry tucked away inside a form of prose, that here I can write a story in a way that makes the magic of every slightest moment come alive.

One of the recurring themes throughout the novel is that of pride, which could be said to define both Bettina and Nigel, but especially Dunstan. This is highlighted by Penzance, again in chapter 35:

“You think your reasons for holding aloof from her are the reasons of a man.” Mr. Penzance's voice sounded to him remote. “They are the reasons of a man's pride—but that is not the strongest thing in the world. It only imagines it is. You think that you cannot go to her as a luckier man could. You think nothing shall force you to speak. Ask yourself why. It is because you believe that to show your heart would be to place yourself in the humiliating position of a man who might seem to her and to the world to be a base fellow.” “An impudent, pushing, base fellow,” thrust in Mount Dunstan fiercely. “One of a vulgar lot. A thing fancying even its beggary worth buying. What has a man—whose very name is hung with tattered ugliness—to offer?” Penzance's hand was still on his shoulder and his look at him was long. “His very pride,” he said at last, “his very obstinacy and haughty, stubborn determination. Those broken because the other feeling is the stronger and overcomes him utterly.” A flush leaped to Mount Dunstan's forehead. He set both elbows on the mantel and let his forehead fall on his clenched fists. And the savage Briton rose in him. “No!” he said passionately. “By God, no!” “You say that,” said the older man, “because you have not yet reached the end of your tether. Unhappy as you are, you are not unhappy enough. Of the two, you love yourself the more—your pride and your stubbornness.” “Yes,” between his teeth. “I suppose I retain yet a sort of respect—and affection—for my pride. May God leave it to me!”

And this idea of both Betty and Dunstan sacrificing the pride that's held them both apart for too long reaches its climax at the end of chapter 44:

“Listen,” he broke out suddenly. “Penzance told me—warned me—that some time a moment would come which would be stronger than all else in a man—than all else in the world. It has come now. Let me take you home.” “Than what else?” she said slowly, and became even paler than before. He strove to release himself from the possession of the moment, and in his struggle answered with a sort of savagery. “Than scruple—than power—even than a man's determination and decent pride.” “Are you proud?” she half whispered quite brokenly. “I am not—since I waited for the ringing of the church bell—since I heard it toll. After that the world was empty—and it was as empty of decent pride as of everything else. There was nothing left. I was the humblest broken thing on earth.” “You!” he gasped. “Do you know I think I shall go mad directly perhaps it is happening now. YOU were humble and broken—your world was empty! Because——?” “Look at me, Lord Mount Dunstan,” and the sweetest voice in the world was a tender, wild little cry to him. “Oh LOOK at me!”

This all sets up as a backdrop to Dunstan's line to Reuben in my fic:

"All I own is a crumbling ruin, overgrown lawns, a title of a blackguard– unjustly endowed, but the fact still remains. Of graces, I have none, and of learning, nothing of note, and I've not a shilling to my name. I once believed I could even offer my pride, but with how I've allowed it to be stripped away, I'm afraid I've not even that left to offer."

{and for extra credit, with humillity and the sacrifice of pride being prevalent in this book, I feel it a good time to bring up that another recurring theme in this story is bluebells, and that of bluebells underwater. It should be noted that this book was written in and around the Victorian era, and in the Victorian flower language, bluebells represent, you guessed it, humility.}

I also included shortly thereafter the line "with the boldness and determination of a knight set out to war, determined to conquer and return to his beloved." This is in reference to the passages in ch. 15 and ch. 18, in which Betty notes that Dunstan "would have looked well in a coat of mail," and Penzance notes the way Dunstan carries himself: "his right hand was clenched on his hip, as a man's might be as he clenched the hilt of his sword."

Now onto chapter two of the fic!

This title, "Two strong forces drawing together," also comes from one of Penzance's lines in, no surprise, chapter 35 of The Shuttle.

“I have spent my quiet life in thinking of the forces for which we find no explanation—of the causes of which we only see the effects. Long ago in looking at you in one of my pondering moments I said to myself that YOU were of the Primeval Force which cannot lose its way—which sweeps a clear pathway for itself as it moves—and which cannot be held back. I said to you just now that because you are a strong man you cannot be sure that a woman you are—even in spite of yourself—making mad love to, is unconscious that you are doing it. You do not know what your strength lies in. I do not, the woman does not, but we must all feel it, whether we comprehend it or no. You said of this fine creature, some time since, that she was Life, and you have just said again something of the same kind. It is quite true. She is Life, and the joy of it. You are two strong forces, and you are drawing together.”

To this day, one of the most romantic lines I've ever written probably comes in this proposal right here:

"You've no reason to be afraid, James."  "You've no idea what I fear to lose, Miss Vanderpoel. I know of your love for Dunstanwolde, and your disdain for its condition– and of my love for it as well. If all I were offering was my land and my title, to watch from the sides as you touch all around me with your life, I'd give even that. But what I ask is something deeper. I do not ask you to love a sullied name or a crumbled ruin. I ask you to love the man who holds nothing besides them. I'm asking you to love me."

This one also ranks pretty high on the list, though:

 He wasn't the first man who'd proposed to her– but somehow she'd hoped all along that he would be the last.

(This, of course, has cannonical basis as well, as it's mentioned that both Lord Westholt and Sir Thomas proposed to her, and she turned them both down.)

And, anyways, there's my director's commentary! Thanks for reading!