#to live and we can annul the marriage like a year or so after and- why are u suddenly acting like an actual husband when we agreed to just

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

[baeshijima]

your mind !!! it amazes me everytime!!! duke!blade ????????? mhmmm delectable

cold duke of the north blade.... arranged marriage.... ahhahaa..... only soft to u while cold to everyone else..... aaaa........

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [2]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 1 | Fic Masterlist | Part 3

"S-sir, are you truly certain this is acceptable? This is worse than all the previous quarters we've arranged for your past fiancées."

Seonghwa grinned in satisfaction, "What do you mean, Jongho? This is perfect. She will take what she gets. If she's so unhappy, she can go ahead and run back to her dear father for all I care."

Like all his prior marriage candidates, the general had instructed his servants to ready accommodations in the least appealing quarters available in his estate. It was all part of his strategy to intimidate and drive them away. Nothing brought him greater joy than hearing their whiny shrieks of displeasure as they fled his home, rushing back to plead with their fathers to annul the engagement.

Given he had no say in this particular wedding, his only option was to make it as unpleasant as possible, hoping to scare you away. Surely, the words of the minister's precious daughter would carry more weight with her father and, consequently, the King.

Seonghwa counted on you to bring about the downfall of this marriage, "This should be enough to get the job done. Worry not, Jongho. She'll be gone in less than a day, mark my words."

As he observed his master striding off to his study, the assistant shook his head in defeat, glancing unsurely at the preparations made for the daughter of the Minister of Military Affairs. This particular room had remained vacant since the general first assumed control of the estate from its previous owner.

The room had earned the nickname "The Cold Palace," drawing parallels to the infamous residences of China's Forbidden City, where concubines who had made mistakes or fallen out of favour with the emperor were confined until their last days.

According to tales from the previous residents, the room might have even been haunted, with rumours circulating about the previous mistress of the estate taking her own life within those walls.

Leave it to the general to be fixated on the darkest forms of torment, truly living up to his reputation. Oh, he just couldn't wait to see the look on his new wife's face when she would eventually be ushered into her very own cold palace.

"Are the preparations to the master's liking?" Eunsook, the head maid, inquired of Jongho as she emerged from the quarters after ensuring that all dusty areas had been thoroughly cleaned.

The assistant nodded, his lips pressed in a firm line, "He's more than satisfied, but..."

The elderly woman raised a brow with a knowing smile, "But?"

Jongho sighed, "Is this really right? After all, she is about to become the mistress of this estate, and having her reside here, of all places, seems a little too much."

The two could only shake their heads as they cast a final glance at the pitiful excuse for a room. Having been left untouched for decades, the furniture within was mostly rusty or broken in certain places. While it was cleaned on the surface, who knew what sort of parasites or little crawlies had already made their home there.

Despite the possibility of the new Lady Park being a spoiled brat, as the general claimed, the assistant and head maid weren't sure if she deserved this kind of treatment.

"There's nothing we can do for her, Jongho. Now, we best get back to work before anyone hears us or master will have our heads."

The younger man nodded in defeat before they went about their day, uncertain if they should even be looking forward to the arrival of their master's bride on the next day.

"Lord have mercy on her poor soul."

They couldn't fathom any more humiliation that she had to endure beyond what she already had. According to typical traditions, the bridegroom was expected to visit the bride's home with gifts and a dowry, paying respects to the bride's ancestors before escorting her back to his home.

In an attempt to appease the general and ensure the wedding proceeded, the King had agreed to forgo all customary procedures, allowing the bride to travel to his estate on her own. For some mind-boggling reason, the minister had also agreed to these conditions.

"Your Majesty, if you want me to proceed with the wedding peacefully, I will, on one condition." Seonghwa boldly asserted in the assembly where details of his wedding were being finalised.

"What is it, my boy? Anything for you." The King cooed.

The minister straightened in his seat, clenching his fists in fear of the general making any unreasonable requests.

"Please do not expect me to follow through with any of the silly traditions. I will do no such thing. On our wedding day, I will be waiting in my own estate. Minister Jang can prepare his daughter's transportation. If that is viable, I will finally be married as you so pleased, your Majesty."

The King grimaced, throwing the minister a worried glance, "Seonghwa, isn't that a little much? Think about the poor girl—"

To everyone's surprise, your father breathed a sigh of relief, "Is that all, General Park? If so, I do not see much of a problem with it. My daughter is also not a fan of flamboyant celebrations. She favours simplicity, much like yourself. I'm sure she'll be more than happy with the new arrangements."

Sure, you tell yourself that.

The general grinned into his fist, satisfied. That would make her the laughingstock of the century. The King blinked at the unexpected response but beamed regardless, "Does she now? Oh, Seonghwa, I knew she was perfect for you!"

Everyone was happy with the outcome that day, save for you, the unlucky one caught in the middle of all the crossfire, as always.

Jongho remembered how all members of the general's estate servants had been utterly flabbergasted upon learning about the final decision for the wedding plans. They had initially geared up to work tirelessly for their master's first actual wedding, prepared to pour in endless efforts for the grand celebration.

However, they were left appalled by the news. Who would have expected the minister to be alright with such conditions?

Perhaps the importance of solidifying his connection with the great General Park outweighed his concerns for his daughter's momentary embarrassment.

On the day of the wedding, Eunsook stood steadfastly behind her employer, awaiting any orders he might have for her, "Master, is there really nothing else for us to prepare?"

More than the general, nearly every servant felt uneasy due to the lack of decoration as they awaited your arrival. To an outsider, it would seem like just another regular day. Despite the wide-open doors, the estate didn't appear to have much going on at all.

Seonghwa waved her off, sipping on his tea nonchalantly, "Don't make me repeat myself again, Eunsook. This woman isn't worth any of your efforts. Remember, I pay your salary, not her."

"R-right, master." She lowered her head, knowing better than to get on his nerves.

He sighed upon noticing the unusual group of servants lining up by the main hall as if waiting to welcome some distinguished guest, "Don't you all have better things to do? You're all dismissed; get back to your daily tasks if you wish to keep your job."

Shaking like leaves, they all turned to see the head maid nodding at them, signalling for them to do as they were told. Before they angered him any further, all servants dispersed after bowing in unison at their master's direction, "Yes, master."

"Perfect. The minister did mention his daughter favoured simplicity; I'm sure she'll love this." He grinned in amusement, looking forward to the new Lady Park's reaction.

Bowing one final time to your family, you turned and never looked back. Escorted by the kind elderly servant from before, you were led to the palanquin waiting at the entrance of the Jang estate, "This is your ride to the general's estate, young miss."

Surrounded by a throng of people eager to catch a glimpse of the minister's mysterious eldest daughter, you stumbled backwards a bit, feeling overwhelmed. The onlookers were excitedly exchanging the latest gossip about the unusual wedding, where the bride was expected to travel to her new husband's home alone, without a chaperone.

Stepping out of the estate for the first time in more than a decade, you didn't know what to expect. However, this was certainly not it.

As you navigated through the crowd, you reminded yourself of the role you needed to play. Outside the familiar walls of your family estate, you were recognised as the noble eldest daughter of Minister Jang, about to marry the formidable General Park.

You were quite literally the talk of the town.

"Smile, young miss." And you did.

You put on the fakest smile you'd ever worn as you passed by the prying eyes of the onlookers on your way to the waiting vehicle.

As you settled into the palanquin, you looked up to find the servant sighing, ensuring you were comfortably seated for the journey ahead, "Goodbye, young miss. None of us have been allowed to accompany you. You're on your own from now on. Hopefully, the people there will treat you better, the way you truly deserve."

The way you deserved?

You honestly didn't know what that meant.

All your life, you have only ever been treated like a waste of space. So much so that you have begun to believe that was just how things were meant to be. The prospect of being treated with any sort of decency was, at this point, foreign to you.

Nodding, you acknowledged the harsh reality imposed by your father, "Of course, I expected just as much. Thank you, by the way, for the kindness you've shown me. You best hurry back. Don't let them catch you near me, or you'll be punished."

She gave your hand a warm squeeze, "All the best, young miss."

You returned the gesture before the bearers lifted the transport and began walking.

"Goodbye." You whispered, not only to the servant but also to this life you were about to leave behind for good.

With only a thin layer of cloth serving as a curtain on the tiny window of the palanquin, you could hear every word of gossip uttered as you made your way out of this town and to your bridegroom's.

"Oh dear, what a poor thing. Imagine being wedded to that heartless general. He isn't even courteous enough to come take her home. How long do you reckon she'd survive under his care?"

"Can you believe the minister actually agreed to this? Letting his eldest daughter marry in such an undignified way? He seems desperate to get rid of her. Do you think there could be anything wrong with her?"

"She's quite the beauty, isn't she? What a shame no amount of beauty could save her from this ill fate. You guys wanna bet how long before she gets beaten to death by that husband of hers?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your palms against your ears. You had heard more than enough back home; not only did your stepmother and stepsisters insult you for fun, but most servants were also audacious enough to speak ill of you right in front of your face. You were sick and tired of people talking about you like you weren't there.

The continuous mockery and cruelty had worn you down, and you longed for a reprieve from this life of constant torment.

Why me?

Why is it always me?

Is there really something wrong with me?

There must be a reason why the whole world was constantly out to get you. Why did your mother even give birth to you, only to leave you behind in such a cruel world? What was the point of it all?

Thousands of thoughts raced through your mind, and you wondered if the general truly was as cold-hearted as they say. You pondered what he could possibly look like. They say he was as good as the devil incarnate, but could he really be worse than your family?

You were already convinced that every member of your family was the devil's spawn; you simply couldn't imagine anyone being worse than those people.

With all these thoughts swirling around in your mind, you slowly drifted off to sleep amid your journey from one hell to another.

Your eyes snapped open as you were abruptly awakened by a knock on the palanquin, "Lady Park! We've arrived; it's time to get off. Your father did not compensate us for escorting you inside, so this is as far as our services extend."

Lady Park? Who?

Oh.

It's you.

That's your identity from now on.

Rubbing your eyes, you moved to exit the palanquin. You were perplexed to find yourself at a considerable distance from the entrance of the general's estate.

"Forgive us, ma'am. We hope you can manage the short distance to the estate on your own. We're trying to avoid meeting the general, you know how it is."

You blinked, sensing the immense terror in these men. Park Seonghwa really was something else, wasn't he? Feeling sympathy for them, you nodded, "I... I understand, thank you."

They sighed in relief, scurrying to leave as fast as they could. The reality of your situation began to sink in, and you hesitated before taking your first step towards the looming entrance of your new home. The world you once knew had changed, and you were about to step into the unknown.

As you halted by the front doors, an employee of the estate quickly recognised your outfit, presenting a wild sight – a bride wandering about like a lost sheep.

Approaching you cautiously, one of the men inquired, "Miss Jang?"

You nodded in acknowledgement, "Yes, that's me."

Bewilderment painted his face as he scanned the area, "Are you here alone? Where are your servants and palanquin bearers?"

A gulp betrayed your nervousness, and you lowered your head in shame, "I have no servants with me, and the bearers have left."

His eyes widened, "What?" Quickly regaining composure, he apologised, "M-my apologies, ma'am! My name is Jongho, and I'm General Park's trusted aide. We have been waiting for your arrival. Please, let me take you to the main hall."

At first glance, the assistant sensed you were different from all the other noblewomen he had encountered. It astonished him even more to see you standing there all alone. What in the world was happening? Was the minister aware of any of this? There was no way it could be part of his arrangement. After all, this was his daughter, wasn't it?

As you walked through the estate, you realised the deep bows from the servants were unfamiliar to you. In response, you bowed back, only to receive baffled stares. Your shoulders were hunched, and your lack of confidence was evident.

The unusual exchange did not escape Jongho's notice, and he struggled to understand your odd behaviour.

Nothing seemed to make sense to him.

What was the minister planning? Were you really the eldest daughter? Surely, they wouldn't send an imposter, and even if they did, they wouldn't be foolish enough to make it this obvious. Besides, what reason would they even have to do so? It would mean deceiving His Majesty, the King, too, as the minister had indeed promised his daughter to the general.

As you reached the main hall, the assistant had no time to dwell on such thoughts as he presented you to his master, "Sir, the minister's daughter, your bride, has arrived."

Facing the back of a rather youthful-looking man was not the sight you expected. You truly believed the rumours about him being rough and middle-aged, but now you questioned their accuracy.

"You've made it, wife. At last, you're here." He muttered emotionlessly, moving to set down the cup of tea he cradled in his hands before. The sound of his deep voice sent chills down your spine.

With that, he finally turned around, and you wondered if this was the terrifying general that all of the nation feared. You had envisioned him in various ways, but this was not what you expected.

He was... beautiful.

His features were a perfect blend of masculinity and femininity. His body, too, was ideal, slender yet muscular in all the right places. His ethereal appearance took you by surprise. He was perhaps the most enchanting person you had ever laid eyes on. Granted, you hadn't met many people, given your confined life. Still, you didn't need a broad social experience to recognise that he was a sight to behold.

"Cat got your tongue?" He questioned, a raised brow giving his stoic expression an intimidating edge. You immediately grasped why people found him so fearsome.

Feeling as though you'd committed a grave error, you lowered your head and bowed deeply, your heart beating loudly in your chest, "I-I'm sorry, my lord. I shouldn't have stared; th-that was very rude of me. I thank you for accepting me into your household. I will do my best to make myself... u-useful."

Throughout your life, your family has consistently taunted you for being useless. Now, you wished to change that narrative. If you could somehow prove your value here, perhaps you wouldn't face the same mistreatment that haunted you in your old home. After all, you had only just arrived, you didn't want to be beaten to death so soon.

What in the world?

Seonghwa was rendered momentarily speechless. Undoubtedly, you possessed a striking beauty, the kind that justified your father's decision to keep you hidden for so long. But what puzzled him was the unmistakable insecurity reflected in your posture and the uncertainty in your words.

You were nothing like any of his past fiancées, and he struggled to comprehend the reason behind it. You didn't exhibit the expected haughtiness of a noblewoman from a powerful house. Your apparent indifference to his lack of wedding preparations irked him; he wanted a reaction from you but didn't get one.

What the hell was the minister playing at? Were you intentionally trying to be different? What kind of tactic was this? If the plan was to catch him off guard, it was working very well. This won't do; he couldn't be deterred so easily.

Finally breaking his silence with a scoff, he demanded, "Really now? Useful? In what way?"

You gulped, completely unprepared to provide any sort of elaboration, "I-I..."

He smirked, "Let me guess, your script ended there?"

The accusation threw you into a panic, and you gasped, denying any insincerity, "N-no, that's not—"

Waving you off dismissively, he said, "Save it. I won't buy anything else coming from you. Eunsook, take Miss Jang to her quarters."

Oh no, he hates me already.

« Preview of Part 3 »

"Is all this for me? Are you sure?" You asked in disbelief, gazing in awe at the quarters assigned to you. It was spacious, a far cry from the cramped space that used to be your prison cell.

Eunsook bowed apologetically, "Yes, mistress. I know it might not be ideal, but the master insisted on preparing this specific room for you—"

Shaking your head, you stepped inside, "What do you mean, not ideal? No, this is more than enough. Thank you so much." The room had actual furniture and was even larger than any of your stepsisters' quarters back home. Sure, it wasn't necessarily prettier, but at least it was practical.

The head maid struggled for words as she observed you admiring the interior of The Cold Palace. Were you being sarcastic? It didn't seem like it; you appeared genuinely content. She couldn't fathom why the scene before her eyes almost felt... heartbreaking.

"R-right then, let me help you settle in. Do you have a lot of luggage waiting by the entrance?" She asked politely.

You shook your head, "I-I don't... I'm sorry, this is all I have with me." You showed her the nearly empty duffel bag in your hands, leaving her unsure how to react.

"Gosh, mistress! You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Please, uhh... make yourself at home. Just call out to any of the servants around the area if you need any assistance. I'll be here to alert you when dinner is ready."

"D-dinner..?" You croaked, realising you hadn't had a proper meal in who knows how long. You couldn't believe dinner was being prepared... for you. Blinking back your tears, you bowed, "Th-thank you."

"Please, mistress! You don't have to thank me; it's only my job." Panicking, Eunsook bowed even lower before hastily leaving your quarters. She needed to talk to Jongho about your peculiar behaviour. Surely, she wasn't the only one taken aback by it.

Oh my gosh, thank you for 600+ followers! I hope you enjoyed the second part! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[brainddeadd]

The Proposal

When a sudden immigration issue threatens to deport you back to Canada, you devise a plan: convince your charming but infuriating neighbor, Quinn Hughes, to marry you. What starts as a wild scheme leads to unexpected feelings, hilarious misadventures, and a deeper connection.

this was originally going to be a series but my brain went pooft

Your life is officially a disaster. All it took was a single letter from immigration. Due to some bureaucratic nightmare, your visa is expiring, and you’re suddenly at risk of being deported back to Canada—a place you haven’t lived in years. Your job, your friends, your entire life is here now. You pace your apartment, chewing on your lip, heart racing with panic. There has to be a solution, some way to stay.

That’s when the idea hits you—crazy, reckless, and entirely illegal.

You need someone to marry you.

But not just anyone. It has to be someone local, single, and trustworthy enough to go along with this scheme. Unfortunately, your options are limited. And then you think of your neighbor: Quinn Hughes.

The thought makes you groan aloud. Sure, he’s gorgeous—with his sharp jawline, quiet charm, and infuriating smirk—but the two of you are more like frenemies than anything else. Your relationship consists mostly of snarky comments in passing and the occasional argument over his terrible parking. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And besides, if anyone can convincingly pretend to hate you while still marrying you, it’s Quinn.

The Proposal:

Later that evening, you find yourself standing outside Quinn’s door, chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek. The moment he opens it, dressed in a hoodie and gym shorts, you blurt out, “I need you to marry me.”

Quinn blinks, stunned. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “It’s not what it sounds like. It’s just… immigration messed up my visa, and if I don’t fix this soon, I’m going to be deported. The fastest way to stay is if I marry a U.S. citizen.”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. “And you thought I was the best option?”

“Yes,” you say, trying to sound confident. “I mean, you’re already in my life. Sort of. And it’s not like you have a girlfriend or anything, so…”

Quinn’s lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. “You do realize this is illegal, right?”

“Only if we get caught,” you say quickly. “Look, it’s just a piece of paper. We don’t have to actually act married. We just have to fool immigration long enough for me to get my green card, and then we can… annul it or whatever.”

He studies you for a moment, as if weighing the insanity of your request. “What’s in it for me?”

You rack your brain for something to offer. “I’ll stop giving you shit about your parking.”

Quinn chuckles softly. “That’s it?”

“And… I’ll buy you coffee every morning,” you add, desperate.

He lets out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You owe me. Big time.”

Your heart leaps. “So that’s a yes?”

Quinn shrugs, looking both amused and resigned. “Guess I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Hilarious Misadventures Ensue:

From the moment Quinn agrees, things spiral into a series of chaotic events. You and Quinn suddenly have to act like the perfect couple, and it’s harder than you anticipated—mainly because the two of you are polar opposites.

1. The Wedding: You decide on a quick courthouse wedding to make it official. There’s no fanfare—just you in a white sundress and Quinn looking mildly annoyed in a button-down shirt.

“I feel like we should say something meaningful,” you whisper as the judge prepares to officiate.

Quinn smirks. “Like what? ‘Til deportation do us part’?”

Despite yourself, you snort, and the judge gives you both a strange look. You manage to keep a straight face just long enough to exchange vows—if you can even call them that—and sign the marriage license.

“Well, Mrs. Hughes,” Quinn teases after, flashing a grin. “How does it feel to be married?”

“Like I made a huge mistake,” you reply with a playful glare.

2. The Fake Instagram Life: To sell the story, you both agree to post a few couple-y photos on social media. The problem? Neither of you are exactly Instagram-savvy.

Quinn’s first attempt is a blurry photo of the two of you holding coffee cups. “What’s wrong with it?” he asks, frowning as you groan.

“It looks like a hostage situation, Quinn.”

After several failed attempts, you finally manage a decent photo: you sitting on his lap, laughing as he pretends to kiss your cheek. It’s fake, of course. Completely fake. But the way his hand rests on your waist feels a little too real.

3. Immigration Interview Disaster: The immigration interview is the real test, and it’s an absolute disaster.

The officer asks simple questions: “How did you two meet?” “What’s Quinn’s favorite food?”

You both answer at the same time, giving completely different answers.

“Spaghetti,” you say.

“Chicken tenders,” Quinn mutters.

You shoot him a look. “Since when?”

“I told you that last week,” he whispers back, exasperated.

The officer narrows her eyes, and you and Quinn exchange panicked glances. Somehow, you scrape through the interview, but not without promising each other to actually learn more about each other next time.

Feelings Get Complicated:

What started as a transactional arrangement begins to shift. The longer you spend time together—watching TV on his couch, cooking dinner side by side, sharing space in ways that feel dangerously domestic—the more the lines blur between what’s fake and what isn’t.

One rainy night, you find yourself curled up against Quinn on the couch, his arm casually draped around your shoulders. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you wonder if he feels it too.

“This was supposed to be fake,” you whisper, almost afraid to say it aloud.

Quinn’s hand brushes your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But it doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

You look up at him, your breath hitching as his gaze drops to your lips. Before you can overthink it, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s not rushed or rehearsed—it’s real. And it’s everything you didn’t know you wanted.

The Inevitable Realization:

Over the next few weeks, everything changes. The fake touches—his hand on your back, your fingers laced through his—become second nature. Quinn starts leaving his toothbrush next to yours. You start falling asleep in his bed more often than not.

And then, one morning, it hits you. You’re not faking anymore.

You sit across from him at breakfast, watching as he scrolls through his phone, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. It’s terrifying, how easy this has become.

“What are you thinking?” Quinn asks, glancing up from his phone.

You smile softly. “That maybe this wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.”

Quinn’s eyes crinkle with amusement, but there’s warmth there too—something deeper, more genuine. “Guess we’ll have to stay married, then.”

You laugh, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Hughes.”

And for the first time, he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

[marzipanandminutiae]

I have a question, where would gnc/trans people get their clotges in the days before the selling of premade clothes? I assume some was stealing from relatives, and that soem of them did know how to make clothes, but that doesn't seem at all likely to be the most common method

That is an amazing question!

Unfortunately for a lot of people, we don't really know- many trans folks flew under the radar and as such details of their lives are unclear. Legendary stagecoach driver Charley Parkhurst, for example, left no sort of record as to where he got his clothes (especially since he lived in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for many years of his life). And figures like Mary Jones, a Black trans sex worker from the early 19th century, flit into and out of the pages of history so quickly that there's barely enough info to get their vital statistics, let alone shopping habits.

However, my guesses would be as follows:

Secondhand shops. These have existed for a very long time, and if you already have at least one outfit that makes you read as the correct gender, nobody would question you going through that section of the store/market/whatever.

Sympathetic conventional tailors or dressmakers. This is almost certainly where middle- and upper-class GNC or trans people got their clothing- one can hardly imagine legendary writer George Sand buying her suits secondhand, after all. And since humans have always been human, and Let People Dress How They Please; They Aren't Hurting Anyone is a sentiment I've seen at least as far back as the 19th century, I suspect there were far more of these than many people might think.

Clothing workshops catering to the demimonde- that is, to theatrical companies for costumes, or to sex workers. Certainly this is where drag performers got their stage gear, and one imagines people for whom gender variance crossed the line from performance to identity- like Fanny Park and Stella Boulton -might have turned to their costumers for everyday attire, too. And catering to sex workers probably got all sorts of requests that were seen as outre for the time (in a roleplay capacity- most sex workers dressed conventionally while not actively Doing Sex), but their money was as good as anyone else's.

Friends and relatives. Some families knowingly supported their crossdressing or trans loved ones. Even partners who married the person in question as the binary opposite gender could fall into this category- Lili Elbe (though she lived after premade dresses began to rise in popularity) first experimented with feminine attire in dresses and jewelry loaned by her enthusiastically supportive wife Gerta Gottlieb. In fact, Gottlieb was bisexual, and their marriage was only annulled because Lili was a woman now and same-gender marriage was illegal in Denmark at the time.

Also yes stealing from your relatives was also an option, of course. if they were less than sympathetic

The king of France???? this is the wildcard, and my absolute favorite: the Chevaliere d'Eon, when she transitioned in the 1770s, got the king to not only formally state that she had been assigned female at birth (there had been speculation about her physical sex for years at this point) but to pay for her new wardrobe of gowns. Absolute Queen.

"but didn't her mantua-makers notice Some Physical Things?" she's believed to have had some form of gynecomastia, based on her autopsy, and they'd never have cause to see her in less than her calf-length chemise. if they did see anything, they kept their mouths shut, and rightly so.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana

You guys are getting an absolute feast this week. Two chapters on regular posting days, the twenty snippets you got on WIP Wednesday, this, and of course more Across a Crowded Room tomorrow.

Enjoy!

Based off a post I saw on here (and didn't save for some reason) about the legal tangles gay people had to go through when gay marriage was federally legalized because a lot of them married different people in different states because their marriage in California wasn't legal in the other states and just never bother to get a divorce.

And my brain let's Steddify this shit Sweet Home Alabama style!

So here we go:

Eddie and Steve got married in Boston when Massachusetts made gay marriage legal. But they broke up when Eddie went to California with his band.

Cue Eddie going around and having a couple of really short marriages in different states. Tommy in New York for three months when the band was in New York recording an album. Billy in Hawaii for two weeks while Eddie was there on vacation.

Neither of them really mattered or were serious. Because they were only legal in the state they were performed in so Eddie didn't think anything about it.

Fast forward to a decade later, gay marriage is legalized across the country. Corroded Coffin has broken up and Eddie has a job as a tattoo artist.

Eddie goes to get a marriage license in Seattle where he's been living for the past five years. And is denied on the account he's a polygamist. He's still married to three different men in three different states.

Fuck.

His fiancee Chrissy is a legal assistant at a law firm so she has her bosses draw up annulments for Eddie's three marriages and has them sent out to all three of Eddie's exes.

Including Steve.

When Steve gets his papers, he's pissed. He hunts down Eddie's number and calls. Tells him that he can do the proper thing and tell him to his face he wants a divorce. None of this annulment bullshit like their relationship didn't matter. But until then he can fuck off.

Now Eddie's frantic. Because the reason why he and Chrissy were getting married in the first place is that her student visa ended in May and her work visa has been delayed three times. They have to get married otherwise she'll be deported. And no just a little across the border to Canada either, she's from Barbados.

He tells her the truth about Steve and how they were actually married for almost two years before Eddie left. They had been living in their home town of Hawkins where their marriage wasn't legal any way, but meant something to them.

Chrissy is upset he didn't tell her this sooner, because yeah, that's whole other kettle of fish. So she has her bosses draft a divorce decree and words it a whole lot nicer than the legalese of the annulment.

Eddie packs his bags heads to back to Hawkins and back to Steve. He has one week to convince Steve to sign the divorce papers.

He gets into to town and finds that Steve is the proud owner of the best bakery in town. And the best selling item is the chunky mint brownies Steve made just for Eddie when they first got together. Eddie gets a little sentimental about it, and Steve stubbornly refuses to sign the papers.

They go back and forth for a few days. They tumble into bed and Eddie wakes up, he finds Steve gone and the papers signed.

Only now that Steve has signed them, he doesn't want that anymore. So he breaks down crying and sobbing. He calls Chrissy and now Chrissy is as distraught as he is.

After they hang up Chrissy calls the bakery and Robin answers. Chrissy really needs to speak to Steve.

Robin tells her Steve can't come to the phone because he is covered in flour and can't because he'll get it messy. Chrissy asks if she calls his cell phone if Robin could hold it up to his ear, because she really needs to talk to him. But Robin refuses to budge. She banned Steve from having a cell phone around their giant stand mixer because he has lost three of them to the beast.

Robin offers to pass long the message, though. And Chrissy has to be content with that. She explains who she is and why Eddie needed the divorce. She tells Robin about Eddie's breakdown that morning and how he really didn't want to divorce Steve.

Robin and her get to talking about their best friends, missed connections and themselves.

While the girls are talking Eddie is having another freak out because he put the envelope containing the divorce papers in the mail box but realized he forgot to sign them himself. He needs to get them back so he can sign them, but he's afraid of getting arrested for tampering a federal post box trying to get the papers back.

He's near hysterics when Nancy finds him. She's in town visiting her family. And she helps him get the papers back by talking to the post office and they open the box and he gets them back.

She takes him to lunch to calm his clearly frazzled nerves. He tells her everything. And she tells him that while Eddie was in New York, Steve had gone to see him and when he saw how much bigger and better the big city was, Steve decided if he was going to win Eddie back, he had to make something of himself. And thus began the bakery. He almost had enough to fly to Seattle and woo Eddie. But then this happened.

Now Eddie is really stricken. He wants Steve so bad, but Chrissy is out of options.

Nancy gives his arm a squeeze and Eddie heads back to the hotel he'd been staying at.

He finally looks at his phone and sees a lot of messages and texts from Chrissy begging him not mail the divorce papers yet, she has a plan. Cue Eddie having a final breakdown in his hotel room, sobbing and wrung out.

There is a knock on his door and Eddie is confused the only person who knew his hotel and room number was Chrissy and she's in Seattle. But he gets up to answer and suddenly has an armful of Steve Harrington. Who is also a sobbing wreck.

After both of them calm down, Steve tells him he only signed the papers because he wanted Eddie to be happy. And if that meant being divorced from him, he'd do it.

But Eddie's isn't happy. He's sad and hurt and lonely. Steve is too.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, placing their trust in their best friends.

The next morning they are woken up by Robin and surprise surprise, Chrissy.

They explained that since gay marriage is legal everywhere now, Robin is going to marry Chrissy. And she'll swap places with Eddie. She'll go back to Seattle with Chrissy and Eddie can stay here with Steve.

It's perfect.

They get a marriage license and walked down the courthouse where Eddie and Steve are their witnesses. While the judge is talking, Steve pulls out Eddie's old ring. The one he returned to Steve when he moved out to be with his band.

He slips it back on Eddie's ring finger where it belongs. They kiss at the same time Chrissy and Robin do.

A couple years later Chrissy becomes a lawyer and her and Robin move back to Hawkins where Eddie has opened his own tattoo parlor, right next to Steve's bakery.

And they all live happily ever after.

ETA: Full Story here.

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[bullet-prooflove]

Put it in a bowl and mix it up prompt list:

9. Girl, I meat what I said When I said, "I do"

Lee Dutton

Tagging: @kmc1989 @yousigned-upforthiss @foxfabled @trublu2u @worlds-tallest-fairy

Companion piece to:

1993 - You read out a letter to Lee over the phone.

A Boy from Bozeman - Lee says goodbye to the woman he loves.

The Worry Doll - Lee still keeps the worry doll you gave him.

Wild Fire - Lee tells you the truth about the wildfire.

Experiance (NSFW) - Lee's gained some experiance since the last time the two of you were together.

Blind Date - John puts the word out around town that Lee needs a wife.

Fire Wood - Lee always chops firewood when he's pissed.

Wedding Bells - You and Lee tie the knot in secret.

Until Your Dying Day - You make a promise to Lee.

Duty - Dutton men don’t marry for love.

Never Again - You promise Lee that John won't come between the two of you.

The Sun Doesn't Shine - You are faced with a horrible decision regarding your marriage.

The day after you receive the annulment Lee turns up at Yellowstone with fire in his eyes and the paperwork bundled up in his fist. He tosses it across the breakfast table where his father sits, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.

“You have a fucking nerve.” He snarls as John sets it down alongside his plate.

“I thought Anna would see sense.” John tells him as he surveys the documentation in front of him. “I can see I was wrong.”

“You have no fucking right!” Lee snaps, jabbing his finger at his father.

“I have every fucking right.” John erupts as he raises to his feet. “This ranch, it’s legacy, it’s supposed to be in your hands and you’re just throwing it away for a marriage that shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Me? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lee retorts. “Is this about Lou? You didn’t get your happy ending, so I can’t get mine? Is that what it is?”

“Don’t…” John says, his jaw clenching as his temper starts to simmer. “Do not talk about that woman.”

“How about her son Joseph? Should we talk about him instead?” Lee continues, his voice raising once more. “You’re a fucking hypocrite. At least when I say I do, I fucking mean it!”

John’s eyes raise up to meet his and Lee knows, he just fucking knows that this has everything to his father’s history and nothing to do with his future.

“Are you done?” John asks him, his palms coming to rest flat on the surface of the table.

“Yea I am.” Lee tells him. “I’m done with you, with this ranch and with this bullshit legacy that has been a noose around my throat my entire fucking life.”

“Let’s see how that works out for you.” John responds, his tone turning glacial. “Let’s see how you do when your blackballed from every single ranch in Montana...”

“I’m not sticking around Montana.” Lee tells him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m taking Anna back to California and I’m going to do what I should have done twenty years ago. I’m going to live.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gabessquishytum]

This has been haunting my head forever, but as we all know Robert Smith was the leading inspiration for Dream in the comics with more than a bit of Neil sprinkled in there (and a few other goth rock bands like Bauhaus' Peter Murphy) and I just can't get over the image of a goth rockstar Dream.

It's the late 70s, and our boy Dream is riding a creative high of LSD and pedal effects to the top of the pops. They're calling the band he fronts, name and members are up to you or whoever takes this idea on, Goth bc they're too dark for New Wave but are just upbeat enough to steer clear of Televison's particular brand of Post-Punk. It's a newer label but a fitting one considering how dour and moody the genre has gotten since Ian Curtis's death. One he despises as he claims he's very happy with his current success and how his life is going.

But he's not happy. He hates playing to the newly forming stereotype of his fans, but he isn't. Celebrity Marriages hardly ever last and his relationship with his novelist wife is crumbling around him. He loves his son but the touring schedule is killing all of his free time. He's also pretty deep into substance abuse but he wouldn't admit it to his big sister let alone the random journo who has a camera in his face while he's trying to catch a 5:30 am flight to start his newest tour. He's just burnt out and creatively stuck as the label tries to pigeonhole him into this new subgenre, which he doesn't want anymore. Life, his life, can't be doom and gloom forever even though that's where it looks like it's heading. Forever being hailed as the Nightmare King.

Meanwhile, three radio stations over, Hob Gadling is desperately trying to hang onto life. He's a bit older now than when he first broke out onto the music scene as a rambunctious coat rider of the Sex Pistols, but he's still going strong. Punk has always been his outlet. Life sucks and you keep on living despite it. It tried to kill him not long after he debuted with substance use, but he powered through it and got clean. His wife died in childbirth, but he stuck around to raise his son. He even took a three-year hiatus and completely missed how much the sound had changed from his younger years. Even as post-punk has risen in popularity and the friends he knew have either died or changed their sound completely, he won't give up hope! Punk's not dead and neither is he. No matter how long his hair gets or if he grows out of his leather jacket.

The two meet rather coincidentally. Hob just happens to be opening for Dream on the Europe leg of his tour. Unsurprisingly the tension around Dream's band has become a powder keg and when he finally snaps and fires his guitarist, his bassist also leaves. With half the band gone, Dream considers calling it quits right then and there. Fuck the new album, fuck the last fifteen or so dates. He wants to go home. But Hob sees how close they are to finishing the tour and puts his foot down. They will finish the tour! So he offers up his services to Dream. He's not bad with a guitar and if Dream can cover the bass, then he'll play all night if he has to. Because out there on stage? That's life and he wants to keep making people happy and give them something that might transcend time and space. To never die bc his name is there among the annuls of rock history.

And in time, Dream will come around to his new friend. He will learn to appreciate the zest for performing and living his new friend has. He will also think he has the greatest body known to man and will forever laugh at the terribly done anarchy A Hob has tattooed on his ass, but that's neither for here or there. For now, Dream pulls himself together and gets his bass out from the dark pits of hell the roadies call gear storage. For the show must go on.

Oh god I want an entire novel length story around this. It’s fantastic! I have so many thoughts about these two!!

Hob is falling in love with all the new sounds that he’s hearing. He spent his time on his hiatus being a suburban dad, and now he’s back on the scene is just feels amazing. He can’t get enough of Roxy Music and David Bowie and Elvis Costello. And he’s determined to drag himself back up among those names! He’s got so many ideas of where punk can go! And he’s fascinated by Dream and his band. The lyrics are a little dark and wallowy, but Hob understands that actually people need to hear that. Life in the UK isn’t easy, particularly for young people. They need something loud and desperate and real. Little does he know, Dream feels like what he’s doing is so far away from being real. He feels likes such a fraud. He can’t get off the hamster wheel except by shooting up and passing out.

Hob recognises all of this in approximately 0.5 seconds after meeting Dream. It makes him pretty sad, but he’s determined that he’ll lift Dream out of his funk. If nothing else, he’ll make him love music again.

So when Hob said he was OK with a guitar, he was lying - he's actually a bit of a genius, and it's fair to say that Dream falls a little bit in love with him about half way through the sound check. Instead of hiding in the dressing room and licking his wounds over the band breaking up, he actually watches as Hob opens for him. Hob is very classic punk, it's all very "fuck the government, fuck me up the arse" kind of stuff, but Dream doesn't get bored for a single second. Hob is just that entertaining, and his riffs are insane. Dream itches to write a song for him. And when Hob ends the set with a jokey little song that his five year old son allegedy wrote the lyrics for (lil Robyn is very punk, just like his daddy) Dream’s eyes actually get a bit misty. It's probably all the smoke.

And there's really no time to get emotional! Dream’s drummer, Constantine, thankfully didn't walk out with the rest of them. So somehow, with Hob’s virtuosic guitar skills and sheer determination, plus Dream’s refusal to fail yet again, they actually make a really decent show. Dream feels a tingle of the old spark that he used to get when he first started out - it probably has something to do with the way Hob upends a bottle of water all over his head half way through the show and grins like a maniac.

After the show they crash in a local hotel. Hob calls his kid from the payphone and Dream wishes that he had the courage to do the same. Instead he takes some pills so he doesn't have to feel the high from the show gradually wearing off into nothingness. He doesn't know why Hob comes and sits next to him in the dark, pressing against him from thigh to shoulder. He stays for the whole of Dream’s trip, in fact, humming something quiet and classic. Dream feels quite ashamed of himself, and for the first time he thinks that maybe he'd feel better without the drugs. Maybe.

As the tour gets off to a slow start, Dream starts to notice that Hob is having some kind of positive effect on him. Just little thing. They get breakfast together, so Dream actually eats something, which is unusual. Their little arguments don't get out of hand, because Hob never lets them escalate. When Dream is angry and spitting at the world, Hob is sure to point of something positive. Not that Hob doesn't get sad, too - he just deals with it differently. He goes for long walks, and turns off the news when it gets bad. He gets himself a snack when he's irritable, and laughs about it afterwards.

Dream writes him a near impossible guitar solo and it feels like a "thank you".

They have a sweet, unexpected first kiss. It's 2am and they're standing at the edge of the road, waiting for a mechanic to come out to their broken down tour bus. There's no one around to see, so Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder. He's sore, and weary. Hob turns his head slightly and tucks an arm around him, and it just happens. They kiss. It is, of course, the first of many.

And you can bet that Dream kisses that anarchy tattoo a million time, too.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Unexpectedly Yours: Part 12

Fandom: Ted Lasso (Regency AU)

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: Lord Roy Kent still has yet to marry. He hates the notion that marriage is a way to ensure your status in society. You have delayed your debut to society for years because of the same idea. So what happens when two people who hate the idea of marriage are constantly drawn to each other?

Warning: sexual assault - noncon kissing

A/N: I have like 3 more chapters of this left and this series will be done!

Series Masterlist

"My lord, there's a-"

"Send her in," Roy grunts out, not looking up from the paperwork he has in front of him.

When the door to his study opens, he's hit with a strong familiar scent. He was expecting you, but that's not who stands before him. He looks up slowly and grits out, "Georgina."

"I'm sorry to appear unannounced," Roy's former fiancee looks at him sheepishly.

"And why are you here?"

She winces at his malice tone, "I needed to see you, speak with you. After seeing you at that ball, I-I've been thinking about you."

Roy narrows his eyes at her, "That right?"

"I regret breaking off our engagement. While I live a very fulfilling life, I-Rupert...he doesn't love me. Not as much as I thought he did."

Roy cocks a brow at her and she continues, "At the beginning of the marriage, he was very...attentive, loving. Now we rarely spend time together. I know he's having an affair with one of my handmaidens. It's-This is isn't the type of marriage I wanted from him."

He hums and stands, walking to the other side of his desk to stand before his former love, "I'm sorry to hear that, Georgina, but I don't know what you want me to do."

"Help me annul the marriage. Once my marriage with Rupert is annulled," she steps closer and runs her hands up her chest, "We can be together."

Roy's jaw clenches, "You already know that I am engaged to Y/N L/N."

The woman scoffs, "But she doesn't know you like I do, know how to...fill you with desire like I do," she pulls Roy by the collar of his shirt, pressing her lips to his.

"Alright, my love, we mustn't keep mother wait-" you step into Roy's study just in time to see Roy and Georgina break apart. You stand there frozen in confusion, looking back and forth between Georgina and Roy.

Roy immediately rushes to you, "Y/N, this isn't what it looks like."

You scoff, "Right," you turn on your heel and march out of Roy's study, trying to keep your composure.

"Y/N, please-"

"No," you abruptly turn around, catching Roy by surprise, "Here's what's going to happen, Lord Kent." he winces at the use of formalities, "I will go out to that carriage and tell my mother that you got caught up in business and you won't be able to make it. You will not follow me or try to contact me for the rest of the day."

Roy gulps and solemnly nods, "Alright."

"Enjoy the rest of your time with the Duchess, Lord Kent," you sneer and you're out of the Kent Estate, climbing into the carriage. Roy listens as the sound fades further and further away.

"Now, where were we?" Georgina's hand snakes up his chest again and he grabs it, tightly.

"You are to leave my property at once. Not only have you upset my finacee, but you might have ruined my chances to being with the woman that I truly love." he practically throws her hand away from him, "I will not help you nor will I indulge you in whatever fantasy you have of us being together again. I don't love you anymore, Georgina. Now leave."

The woman turns her nose up into the air, "Fine, but when she can't satisfy you like I can, don't bother reaching out to me."

Roy scoffs, "Don't worry, I won't." He watches as Georgina exits his home and as soon as the door closes behind her and hangs his head low. He runs a hand down his face and groans, "Fuuuuuck."

[headgehug]

beat generation dash simulator

📝 windblownworld

I need to run away and live on a mountain fr

#jack.txt #my buddy gary @ dharmabum has a good gig lined up for me next summer. #feels like forever away #fuck my life

( 1 note )

❕️This post has been flagged for the following community warnings: mature

📚 starvinghystericalnaked

okay, you know what, fuck you. fuck. you. there's nothing "obscene" about my poem. in fact the bible is more "obscene" than this. maybe if you had the guts to read it you'd understand that YOU are the problem. WE are the movement WE are the people WE are the answer.

🔁 🐒 oldbulllee14

Allen, I completely agree with you. Customs officials are a load of cock-sucking bastards. Next time you are in town, come over. I just got back from Mexico if you know what I mean.

🔁 📚 starvinghystericalnaked

say less 👀🍃

#like for real say less LMFAO if the feds are on tumblr we are so fucked

( 30 notes )

🚗 coloradocarjacker-deactivated04011948

"Well it's about time you wrote, I was fearing you farted out on top that mean mountain or slid under while pissing in Pismo, beach of flowers, food and foolishness, but I knew rhe fear was ill-founded for balancing it in my thoughts of you, much stronger and valid if you weren't dead, was a realization of the experiences you would be having sown there, rail, home, and the most important, climate, by a remembrance of...

read more

🔁📝 windblown world

needed this right now. missing you, brother.

#does anyone know if neal remade or is he just gone? #did he say anything to anyone? he told me he was just remaking

( 2,396 notes )

🎶 bopaholicedie Follow

happy 1 year anniversary of the official annulment of my marriage

#if you're reading this jack go to hell. I wish you'd rotted to death in jail with that m*rderer #after all these years and not even a fucking thank you

( 2 notes )

📝 windblownworld

logging off indefinitely. my editor needs a draft of my book by the new year and I already blew my advance so there's no way I can ask for an extension. if you see me online tell me to fuck off

#mutuals can still send letters

Pinned post

( 0 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

feeling blessed for all of my good friends today. real ones know — rip d.k. '44 — keep the hustlers and parasites at arms length, we'll get through this!

#this one goes out to you jack! 🙌 hit me up sometime

( 74 notes )

🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

what's up motherfuckers! remade from @coloradocarjacker

🔁 📝 windblownworld

neal? holy shit. is that you? are you busy tonight?

🔁 🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

kerouac my boy my lad my good man for you I am never busy I have to just drop carolyn off at the motel and procure a fine feast dinner for her and the kids and then maybe an hour two just setting around making sure she's and they're alright and then if you pick me up at 10 no I better say 10:45 not a minute later than ten forty five pm jack I will be fired up and ready to go out with you

( 4 notes )

📝 windblownworld

SAL AND DEAN ON THE PROWL TONIGHT JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS!!! if you want to party with the OGs first rounds on me.

#NYC beat scene #jack.txt

( 12 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

"Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, make 'em horny."

#quotes #beatnik #beat literature #deep #counterculture #new york city #on the road core #kerouaquette #writer #writing advice

( 500 notes )

[alicentive]

Author's Note: this is my very first fic for House of the Dragon! I hope you'll enjoy this little canon alteration that has lived in my head for a good little while now. 💕 Rating: Teen & Up Audiences for this first part, but potentially rating-upped in any other parts that may follow. Warnings: none for this part. Wordcount: 2.1k Summary: Rhea Royce lives. It makes all the difference.

Weddings are rather sorry affairs.

In truth, they have become rather complicated since the Andals came to Westeros. Since a new faith supplanted the old, growing like a fast weed that would prove impossible to eradicate from one’s land. There is proof of being usurped at every marriage ceremony, of having one’s own sensibilities replaced by that of another, of having one’s traditions changed so irrevocably that one can scarcely recognize them in the new rigid rules.

Rhea Royce does not set much stock in the order of things. As a child, she was merely willful – a matter that was greeted with exasperation and amusement alike – and as a woman grown she is double that and judgmental to boot. Grew up on Runestone, that one, she hears at times when she goes out riding in the Vale, as though it can explain her being how she is. Grew up in that old seat of kings.

The outlanders have never understood this. They came here first with boats, wresting lands away from the First Men and causing generations of clan strife where they went. The Royces had resisted more fiercely than most. We were kings, once, her father always said, and the land remembers us. Yet there is no resisting what came after the first outlanders.

There is no resisting dragons.

She supposes this may yet be why her own wedding was the sorriest of all weddings she has attended in her life. Why it had felt rather like a longknife pressed to her throat at all hours of that day, no matter how many vows she had spoken (too many) or how swiftly she had bitten her tongue to halt the worst of her remarks. Why there was a bedding ceremony that had gone as it did – her husband’s eyes fixated on the sky, her resolve crumbling in the face of such laughable weaknesses as his – and why she’d all but managed to chase her dear lord husband out of the Vale altogether since.

There had been a moment then, too long and too sharp to be mistaken for anything else, when they had looked at one another and found naught but things to hate.

Rhea had not pressed for an annulment in the first years, though she knows her husband had and was denied at every turn. It had been comfortable to not need think of other betrothals, or of another wedding to one who would wish to ride her as though she’s little more than a common brood mare. To not need to suffer a man’s hands on her, least of all a dragonrider’s, had been the blessing that had halted her tongue.

It is different now, with her father gone and her taking the Runestone Seat. There are matters to consider now that were not pressing before – a question of succession, for she’ll be damned before she delivers her family seat to the Arryns, first and foremost – and she knows these are not the concerns of dragons.

My lord husband does not care one whit about any of these matters, she had said to the Council of Faith, and often he has spoken of me in ill terms that have put my seat and standing at greater risk than ever before.

King Viserys had taken a long look at her that had rather felt like an old dragon sizing her up to determine how much fire would burn her and leave nothing but ashes in its wake. He had always refused her husband the annulment. She’d feared he’d do the same with her, no matter the Council of Faith’s decision on the matter, but it had only taken a few choice words about her husband – his brother – to make him relent.

Only five days have passed since Rhea first understood that dragons can signify freedom, too.

She still thinks weddings are rather sorry affairs, though of course she will not state as such to present company. The Red Keep has ears where walls should be. Eyes where there should be windows and doors. Secrets where there should be laughter.

Even her lord husband, now at last lord husband no more, moves through this space as if someone has rammed the end of a spear up his arse.

Rhea knows better than to allow herself the liberties of the Vale here, though she does not quite manage to perfect the stiff motions and turns of court as well as the capital-born or Lannister-raised do. (Gods save her from Jason Lannister and his belief that Casterly Rock could be home to her, even though he has so far only managed to describe her as Daemon Targaryen’s spurned wife.)

Sometimes, the Red Keep’s eyes and ears are put on display right before her nose.

“I must admit to some surprise,” says the Strongs’s youngest, eyeing her up and down in much the same way Daemon used to, “when I heard of your marriage annulment, Lady Royce. The King always was so very adamant to keep his brother tied to the Vale.”

“There are only so many cords with which one can manage to tether a dragon,” she smiles back, only belatedly remembering that she shows too many teeth in doing so. “I think the sheep in the Vale would thank me for cutting it loose at last.”

His responding laughter is as brittle as that foot he drags around. Rhea cannot help but place it in her memory to observe again later. It was so immediate that he was for certain in a position to have heard Daemon pontificate about how he would rather fuck all the Vale’s sheep than bed her. Moreover, there was not a single attempt to hide it.

“–ay in the Red Keep long?”

“Mm? My apologies, Lord Strong,” she offers to the elder Strong, tearing her gaze away from the point just above his youngest son’s shoulders, “the greater noise on my side of the table is not conducive to lengthy conversation.”

The portly man’s answering chuckle is thankfully not unkind as she leans over the table as much as decorum allows her. “I merely had an old man’s curiosity about whether you will be staying in the Red Keep long, Lady Royce.”

“Oh, I daresay I shall be out of the city once the wedding celebrations have come to a close. I am not one to miss a tourney, truth be told, though it of course does not become me to partake.”

Her laughter’s too loud for this table. Her armor gleams in the soft candlelight as if to belie her every word, though it is true that she has not ridden any tourneys and would not think to start now. She is altogether too much for the Red Keep, which she sees reflected in the stares of women most of all, but she is still Viserys Targaryen’s honored guest by the end of it. Marriage or no marriage to a dragon, it seems as though the Vale’s bonds to the usurpers still need to hold.

“Ah, my days of partaking are done as well,” laughs Lord Strong, “though I did say to the King that I have half a mind to act as though I am but nine-and-ten again. It was my son, Harwin, who reminded me of my duties.”

“Reminded you of the costly duties of a maester if you should be jousted off your horse,” corrects the man seated directly across from her. His words are clearly offered in jest, for his eyes sparkle with ill-concealed mirth above the rim of his cup, “It is bad enough for me to run such chances.”

“Good fortune to you, ser Harwin,” she nods, knowing the man’s reputation only from hearsay. “I believe I heard it said you are one of the finest contenders for the tourney.”

His bark of laughter is even louder than hers. “So it is gossiped,” he allows, nodding at her, “and I pray to our gods it holds true. There are, of course, a number of fine contenders. I believe the Velaryons have brought some knights with them as well.”

“And they all look like they are attending a funeral.”

“You do not believe this to be a happy match?” interjects the youngest Strong, wheedling voice raising the hairs on the back of her neck with no great effort.

“I believe the match to be a fine one. Dragon and serpent understand one another, surely, better than dragon and sheep ever have,” she remarks idly, once again casting herself in the mummers’s role of harmless first wife. She leans back in her seat, allowing the cacophony of other conversations to wash over her a moment. “Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor suit one another”– she announces –“though their knights must be very bored by the lack of wedding brawls.”

Again the elder of the Strong brothers, Harwin, booms out a laugh in reply. Mirth crinkles the corners of his eyes and sets his teeth glittering in the light. Rhea finds herself liking him in the same manner with which she detests his brother; an immediate feeling loops in the pit of her belly, where all her misgivings and dreams reside in equal measure, at the piercing gaze he fixes her with.

“All weddings should feature at least one brawl,” he concedes, to the exasperated headshake of his lord father. “I have even heard it tell that the horselords of the plains believe that a marriage bond shall be most fortuitous the more people fight and die at the wedding in question.”

“The Queen may start.”

“Do you really think so, ser Larys?” asks Rhea, twisting her hands in her lap a moment as she almost wishes she could take her curiosity back again for the appraisal he gives her now. “I hardly think Alicent Hightower the type of woman to leap across a table and kick a man in the sack”– she remarks, ignoring the scandalized gasp from the woman seated beside her –“though I could of course be mistaken.”

“Tell me, Lady Royce,” asks Larys Strong conspiratorially, leaning across the table ever so slightly, “do you know which color the beacon on the Hightower glows when Oldtown calls all its banners to war?”

Rhea raises a single eyebrow as she slowly turns to look at the dais from whence Lord Strong already descended early this eve. The young royals are there, of course, dragon and serpent both, and it takes her a time to tear her gaze away from the strikingly white-haired Velaryons. There is the King, looking as though he is torn between enjoying himself and retiring to bed exhausted by the day’s events, and…

“Green, hm?” she asks aloud, eyeing the still-young Queen in the dress that had quite halted conversations a little earlier this eve. “What cause has Oldtown to wage war in these halls?”

“What cause indeed.”

“The cause of something desperate,” she finds herself saying once her gaze comes to rest on her erstwhile husband, who’s seated on the very edge of the dais and looking for all the world like he wishes to tear a man limb from limb. “Whatever it is looms like a cloud over them all.” She snorts as Daemon turns bodily away from her too-obvious scrutiny. “Though, it must be said, the dragon usurpers have always carried this with them since they first set foot on these lands.”

“I was not aware the Vale still refers to the Targaryens as usurpers,” remarks Lord Strong, meeting her gaze head-on as she turns back to the table. “Your father did, of course, but I had…”

“It is not the Vale as a whole,” she corrects, “but rather the view of Runestone. I seat in a place that is older than any living dragon by far, as you well know, and I was raised with the knowledge that my kin was here before and will be here long after.”

“Aye.”

She blinks in surprise as Harwin Strong seems to agree. His father briefly closes his eyes before casting them skyward, while his younger brother seems rather content to focus on his food and only lend his ears to the conversation for now.

“We have spoken of this,” hisses Lord Strong.

“And it holds true,” murmurs Harwin Strong, expression strangely light as he raises his cup to her once again. “We are descendants of the First Men, just as Lady Royce is. I find myself longing to drink to such a rediscovered kinship.”

She does not know if it is the play of light across his face or the rough edge of longing in his voice that makes her raise her cup to him in turn. Does not think it matters greatly, though perhaps it shall begin to matter a lot in the long stretch of time still to come.

“To rediscovered kinship,” she nods, and drains her cup dry.

[esther-dot]

hello! i’ve followed for a while but never talked to you. thank you for being such a great jonsa and asoiaf source. i’ve been thinking lately about how sansa’s vale arc might proceed and was curious if you know of any theories about when/how her marriage to tyrion might end.

sansa needs to be unwed for littlefinger’s schemes to work. he seems to want sansa to believe he’s just waiting around for tyrion to die, but that doesn’t seem in character for him. it seems more likely he is actively trying to end her marriage behind the scenes.

do you think she’s likely to stay married to tyrion for much longer? or might her married/unmarried state end up as convoluted as the northern succession, maybe with a decree of annulment floating around somewhere like robb’s will?

Aw! Thank you so much for saying so! I really enjoyed your tags contributing to the Rhaegar & David parallels, and your post about his name.

I haven't been reading much meta this year, so I may have missed it, but I don't know that we've ever developed a specific theory about when Sansa's marriage to Tyrion would be handled! We've sometimes talked about a nice ol' widowing which is fun (but not what we'll get imo), @kellyvela found an exchange in which Martin said that someone doesn't have to go to the High Septon for an annulment but obviously will have to request it in their own name and it would reveal their location (link), so that means, it can't be safely done while Sansa’s pretending to be LF's daughter. She could do it once in Winterfell, and we've talked about the possibility of Tyrion trying to bring the North to Dany's side in DoD 2.0 via his marriage to Sansa, and if that is the route Martin wants to go, it would be pretty juicey, and really fuel Tyrion's rage if Sansa has already had their marriage annulled. That's a fun way to play it.

We've also talked about post a girl in grey trip to the North, considering loyalty to Ned and hatred for Lannisters, the North might just say fuck it, we don't recognize that forced marriage. Or, and I really do think this is possible for drama's sake, we have the two religions, and they might use that to defend not recognizing the marriage and, considering the byronic Jon quote, and how often bigamy pops up in gothic/victorian lit, I don't dismiss the idea that Sansa might marry someone before the old gods prior to an annulment being secured. That might mean, the annulment doesn't happen until close to the end of the story. I personally like the idea of a secret Jonsa wedding, but lot's of Jonsas expect it to be public after R+L=J to reconcile the Jon KitN turning out to be a Targ debacle. Either way, this would mean when Jon reunites with his friend Tyrion, they're both married to Sansa which is also a very sick twisted fun way to play it! (Stop throwing tomatoes, y'all know that would be funny!)

As for LF's current plans, I have no idea! He believed Cersei would end Tyrion, he'd then get rid of Cersei, and that at that point he could reveal who Sansa was:

"A marriage . . ." Her throat tightened. She did not want to wed again, not now, perhaps not ever. "I do not . . . I cannot marry. Father, I . . ." Alayne looked to the door, to make certain it was closed. "I am married," she whispered. "You know."

Petyr put a finger to her lips to silence her. "The dwarf wed Ned Stark's daughter, not mine. Be that as it may. This is only a betrothal. The marriage must needs wait until Cersei is done and Sansa's safely widowed. And you must meet the boy and win his approval. Lady Waynwood will not make him marry against his will, she was quite firm on that." (AFFC, Alayane II)

No man can wed me so long as my dwarf husband still lives somewhere in this world. Queen Cersei had collected the head of a dozen dwarfs, Petyr claimed, but none were Tyrion's. (TWOW, Alayne I)

The mention of the queen's name made her stiffen. "She's not kind. She scares me. If she should learn where I am—"

"—I might have to remove her from the game sooner than I'd planned. Provided she does not remove herself first." (AFFC, Alayne I)

Cersei had the motivation to go after Tyrion, so it made sense to me he thought she'd handle it, and then he'd handle her, but seeing as what he wants to do is reveal Sansa as herself, get the KotV to go North and reclaim Winterfell, I'm not sure what he is currently planning, now that he says his timetable is screwed? Unless he thinks the mayhem of KL, Cersei's current trouble there, Aegon and then Dany's arrival will allow him to get the annulment undiscovered? Cersei is at odds with the High Septon, so maybe he thinks he could get away with it? That doesn't make sense to me though, not with the way news flies. I guess the weather is something of a shield, but not enough. Maybe he planned to kill someone and try to pass them off as Tyrion? Marry Sansa to Harry quickly after and take her North where Cersei wouldn't be able to get her? The emphasis is on Tyrion being alive, not the annulment, but maybe that's a misdirect. I really can't say. If any of you have spec, let me know and I’ll reblog it!

[greatideas-badwriter]

Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Ch. 22

I’ve had some serious computer issues this past week! The chapters I’ve pre-written were somehow deleted, and I’m trying to rewrite them from memory! I apologize for the late and short update, but I wanted to get a chapter out for you guys. For the time being, I’ll return to just one update a week. Sorry for the wait, and I hope you enjoy it!

Beauty couldn’t begin to describe Sakura’s appearance. Sasuke couldn’t tear his gaze from his bride’s as they danced their very first dance as a married couple. No longer did her hands shake. While watching her walk down the aisle earlier, the prince was concerned she’d be too overwhelmed to spend much time amidst the guests after the ceremony. 

The corner of his lips tugged into something resembling a hint of a smile as he twirled the gorgeous woman, ‘Ever since we kissed, she’s been more relaxed.’ 

Sakura broke his train of thought by smiling, a vision of purity and grace, “His Majesty planned a beautiful wedding.” 

Sasuke nodded, noticing the many other couples joining them on the dance floor, but said nothing because he wasn’t sure what to say. 

‘We’re married now. Any time, we’ll be leaving this castle to spend a week alone for the honeymoon,’ his hands unconsciously held his wife’s more firmly, ‘I’m supposed to kill this woman soon.’ Disgust brewed in the pit of his stomach. 

She seemed to sense his mood change and allowed herself to be pulled closer so only he’d hear her whisper, “If you’re concerned, we can excuse ourselves soon.” 

The pinkette had misunderstood. In her eyes, he was worried about the time, given that the sun would set within the next hour. He didn’t correct her, instead nodding without another word. While enjoying the last few minutes of their wedding dancing, the prince tried to memorize the image before him and the way it felt to hold the fragile woman so shamelessly. Regardless of what happened in the future, he knew that he’d never want to forget this day. 

Just as the song ended, the king gently struck the edge of his wine glass with a silver spoon, effectively silencing the room. As though he could read his nephew’s mind, he lifted the glass with a seemingly proud grin and announced, “A toast to the happy couple as they embark on their honeymoon! Let us wish them safe travels!” 

Goosebumps rose to Sasuke’s skin as he felt the hundreds of pairs of eyes on them. He didn’t let it show and bowed with his composure fully intact before guiding Sakura out of the massive ballroom. She sighed once they were in the nearby hallway, walking more leisurely, “What a relief….” He made a soft sound of agreement. Given how their life together had gone thus far, it wouldn’t be surprising for something unwanted to interrupt the wedding. 

Just when that thought crossed his mind, the couple stopped in their tracks as a familiar voice called out, “A moment, please.” 

Turning, the prince’s already souring mood dropped yet another level. Baron Haruno approached with poorly masked irritation. Once close enough, he asked without taking his eyes off his daughter, “May I speak to Sakura alone for a moment?” 

Sasuke looked at the woman in question, not missing the sudden tension in her demeanor. She glanced at him with a curt nod, though, so he bowed politely before excusing himself further down the hall and around the corner, where he froze because the man’s hushed voice carried far enough for him to mistakenly eavesdrop. 

“If you think my allowing you to live under my roof all these years comes free of cost, you’re sadly mistaken.” 

Sasuke’s brow furrowed angrily. He turned, ready to head back around the corner to confront the man who dared speak to Sakura that way, only to stop himself when he continued. “Either you seduce the prince like I asked, or I’ll inform the king of your illegitimacy and have your marriage annulled. You’ll have nowhere to go.” 

His blood ran cold as the air became silent. ‘She’s been trying to seduce me all this time?’ He thought back to all she’d done and endured for his sake and shook his head, ‘No. She’s not that type of girl.’ 

As if confirming his thoughts, Sakura’s voice came, though shaky and quiet, “Do as you please. Even when I’m dead, your son’s reputation will never recover.” She paused before adding more strongly, “That is, if he isn’t caught and put to death before you can rescue him.” 

Then, an unmistakable sound met Sasuke’s ears, and this time, he didn’t hold himself back. He turned the corner to see Sakura holding her cheek, Baron Haruno’s hand still raised from having slapped her. One moment he was staring at his wife’s tear-filled eyes, and in the next, he had her father pressed against the wall with a fistful of his shirt and rage burning his blood, “Do you know what the punishment is for harming a princess?” Even to himself, his voice was chilling. 

Sakura gasped, “...Sasuke…?” 

The prince was too angry to notice her unease, instead pressing harder still so that Baron Haruno’s face paled, “So much as laying a finger on her would would cost you a hand, and you’ve gone as far as committing an act of violence. Should I feed your to the royal family’s hounds?” 

Bloodlust with which he was unfamiliar flamed his actions, and he nearly lost control of it when a soft hand touched his back. His eyes widened, blood cooling in realization when Sakura’s voice met his ears, “Can we go now?” He turned his head, meeting her emerald-colored gaze in disbelief. She said softly, almost pleading, “Please. I want to leave.”

‘What am I doing? What was I thinking, acting so violently in front of her? I must be losing my mind…’ Sasuke turned his glare back onto the Baron, holding his terrified gaze one moment more before releasing him and stepping back to speak more calmly, “Be grateful your daughter knows mercy, for I do not, and I will not should you dare stand before either of us in the future.” 

Sakura seemed to naturally understand that he was livid and held onto his arm with trembling hands, guiding the way toward the back exit. Their carriage was waiting. Neither spoke until they were safely inside it and on the road. 

After a while, the prince stole a glance at his wife. She was looking out the small window as she sat by his side with a small space between them so they weren’t touching. Still in her wedding gown, he admired her elegant and foreign beauty while trying to figure out what to say to ease the tension. To say he was ashamed of his behavior would be putting it lightly. Of all the things he was, a violent man was never one of them. That adjective was saved for The Curse. 

‘Will she hate me now? I’ve acted no better than a demon, even if it was a result of her mistreatment.’ Sasuke never wanted her to fear him. He wanted her to see him as someone to be trusted, someone of comfort. 

“It was never my intention to seduce you. I simply-” “I know,” he cut Sakura off. 

He averted his gaze when she looked his way. His glare met the carpeted floor of the carriage. “I…. Allow me to apologize for losing my composure. I never wanted you to see that side of me.” Being vulnerable with anyone, much less the person he cares about the most, wasn’t easy. Sasuke had never opened up to anyone in his life. It was a foreign idea to the banished prince, but in his heart of hearts, he knew it was the proper thing to do, even if it was uncomfortable. 

Sakura didn’t respond for a long time. He couldn’t bring himself to look her way, afraid of what expression she might make. 

Eventually, a soft weight met his shoulder, and he nearly jumped in surprise, turning his head to see his wife had fallen asleep. Her head rested against him. For a moment, Sasuke didn’t do anything, but then his anxiety faded, and he sighed warmly. 

He gently pulled her closest hand into his and closed his eyes to attempt to get some rest, as well, ‘I know her well enough by now that I shouldn’t doubt her loyalty.’ For the first time in over a decade, the prince felt he was where he was meant to be. 

[history-hive]

Misunderstood People In History: Anne Boleyn

Portrait of Anne Boleyn, courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery

Anne Boleyn, the second wife of King Henry VIII of England, is often portrayed as a power-hungry seductress, an adulterer, and sometimes even a witch. Born sometime around 1501 (we are not entirely sure of her actual birthday), Anne was the younger sister of Mary Boleyn, a previous mistress of Henry VIII. She was educated in the Netherlands and at French Court.

When Henry began to show interest in Anne, she made a decision not to consummate their union until they were able to be married. This was a smart decision on her part as Henry had gone through several mistresses by this point in history, including her own sister. To that end, Henry tried to secure an annulment from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, from Pope Clement VII on the grounds that their marriage was illegitimate in the first place as Catherine had previously been married to his late older brother, Arthur. However, the Pope declined to allow the annulment.

The new Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, went ahead with the annulment in May of 1533. Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn had been secretly married in January of that year, as well. These actions led to the excommunication of Henry VIII from the Catholic Church. Henry then made himself the supreme head of the Church of England through the Act of Supremacy in November of 1534.

Painting of the meeting of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn by Daniel Maclise, a 19th century painter. Courtesy of World History Encyclopedia

Contrary to popular belief about Anne Boleyn, she was a significant voice for religious and social reform in the English Court. Having lived on the continent during the beginning of the religious movement that would be eventually known as the Protestant Reformation, Anne would have been exposed to the radical views held by Martin Luther on the Roman Catholic Church. Frequently after becoming Queen Consort of England, she became a patron for reformist religious figures such as Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Shaxton (who was only briefly a reformist and recanted his position, returning to the Catholic faith sometime late in the reign of Henry VIII). She was also known to be an advocate for the poor.

The only living child Anne Boleyn was able to produce was Elizabeth Tudor. This was frustrating to Henry VIII as he desperately wanted a male heir. At this point in English history, there had never been an official female regnant of England (Empress Matilda had never been coronated, although she had been the legal heir of Henry I). Therefore, Henry was reasonably anxious about the idea of producing a male child to inherit the throne. However, his methods were less than ideal. As he became upset with Anne's inability to carry a male child, Henry's eyes began to wander to Jane Seymour, a lady-in-waiting at Court. Henry had Anne arrested, tangentially on charges of adultery, incest with her own brother, witchcraft, and attempted murder. These charges were very likely fabricated for the express purpose of having Anne executed so Henry could go on to marry Jane Seymour.

Anne Boleyn was executed via decapitation on May 19, 1536. All traces of her were removed from the royal palaces soon after. Within two weeks, Henry was remarried to Jane Seymour.

As we can see, Anne was a complicated figure. While she was certainly not a temptress who endeavored to steal the English throne from Catherine of Aragon, she was also not a helpless girl with no concept of power. She very much took advantage of her position in order to make a grab for personal power and to make significant changes to the religious and social order of England.

[une-sanz-pluis]

Reading this post about Anne Boleyn, made me think about Eleanor Cobham and her childlessness.

We don't know anything about Eleanor's childlessness beyond the fact of it. We don't know if she had pregnancies that ended in miscarriage or stillbirth or whether she was unable to conceive. But the possible impact on her mental health tends not to be even considered, let alone mentioned. In fact, her attempted defence at her trial for witchcraft - that she had only used "magic" in attempt to conceive her husband's child - has been over-interpreted by some historians (e.g. Lauren Johnson, Robert Bartlett) as a type of threat or an admission of treason. She wanted to have a baby because her son would replace Henry VI and she'd be the ~mother of kings!

Which is just bizarre. There are many reasons she could have wanted a child - and note that she did not specifically state she wanted a son but a child - but both Johnson and Bartlett reduce her to the cold-hearted scheming vixen only wants a son so she can rule through him. Also, like, Eleanor was literally the only woman alive in 1441 who could provide the Lancastrian dynasty with a clear-cut heir.

We know the succession became a point of anxiety not too long after Eleanor's downfall and while we can't explicitly trace it back to Eleanor's time as Duchess of Gloucester, it does stand to reason that she would have been aware of how fragile the Lancastrian dynasty was. Henry VI was four years away from marrying himself and twelve years away from having his only son (which, of course, Eleanor couldn't have known about). He was the only child of his father and had no brothers who could inherit the throne, while all of his paternal uncles except Humphrey had died without legitimate issue by 1435. Humphrey himself had no legitimate children. The succession after Humphrey was confused, with at least three possible claimants. Eleanor, as Humphrey's wife, was likely very well aware of how fragile the succession was and was the only woman at that time who could give birth to an heir. Yes, any child might be Henry's "replacement" and she would become the mother of the next monarch but that's how a heredity monarchy works. Maybe people should read less of the Philippa Gregory-style of historical fiction.

And that's not going into the culture of primogeniture or the idea that a woman's worth as a wife was often closely tied to the production of an heir. There are studies that talk about the stigma of involuntarily childless on modern women today, who have the benefit of feminist movements and not living in a culture based explicitly and totally in primogeniture.

Nor does it go into the fact that that having a child could have had an legitimising affect on Eleanor's controversial marriage and status, providing her with security. Nor does it discuss the emotional affect of suffering miscarriages and stillbirths - admittedly, we don't know that Eleanor suffered from these but there doesn't seem to much evidence around miscarriages and stillbirths in late medieval England and so we can't rule out the possibility this was part of her experience.

It's all too easy, when we put aside the scheming vixen image, to imagine Eleanor's fear, distress, desperation and anxiety over her childlessness. Even if she was a scheming vixen, as Johnson and Bartlett would have it, it still would have had a large impact on her. It would have influenced the way she behaved - perhaps the motif of her disastrous pride and ambition came from an desire to emphasis her status as a way of taking refuge from her inability to have a child. Although I'm yet to find contemporary allegations that supports the not-uncommon idea Eleanor was greedy and grasping, perhaps she was in order to build up a stockpile of wealth that she could use to support herself if her marriage to Humphrey was annulled or her dower seized after his death. We might also consider that she turned to magic/witchcraft in desperation to have a child or at least in attempt to know what awaited her.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hi S! I recently found you guys' podcast and I'm enjoying it so much on my commute! I was rewatching the show recently and is it just me or did they not tie up the 10 din track at all? Like when khushi went home to bua-ji's and was basically just waiting for the dissolution of the contract marriage. It seems like they just came back to shantivan and then the dadi track started. Are we just meant to understand that khushi was being stubborn and when arnav said I love you damnit she decided to stay with him after all?

Hi!

Those days were very inconsistently written. The whole issue is that this is a non-consensual marriage which actually has no validity in law (as coercive marriages are technically illegal - although it happens a lot) and even religiously invalid (which is funny considering how many forced marriages do exist).

The whole issues is that it being coercive makes it invalid and the show chose to do anything except address that the marriage didn't have Khushi's consent cause that's a very very grey area (and also state that ek chutki sindoor honestly doesn't have the power of religious validity).

The 10 days track was literally scrapped out. It was the only thing addressing the very problematic circumstance around the marriage and Khushi's very rightful anger and Arnav's very in character cockiness. It would've been a perfect loop. Arnav forced the end day of the marriage. Khushi would end the farce. Just give some agency back to the female lead.

Khushi wasn't being stubborn - she was written as an idiot in the janmasthami episodes but look at this - she knows her marriage is over, she is now living with him under religious validity because Arnav lied to her that their marriage is worthless after six months (she and the audience has no idea that contract marriages don't technically exist rather they can be annulled at 6 months if the marriage hasn't been consummated or other factors, divorces can be filed only after one year of the marriage barring exceptional circumstances).

So she's now living with him, knowing the sindoor and mangalsutra makes then a couple and then she learns that even the religious wedding is invalid so she's into panic mode thinking she's not at all married to Arnav.

And knowing his volatile temper and lack of belief in marriage itself - he could easily throw her out of the house and she has no marriage immunity to give her a house because her family would want her to return to her "husband" and she doesn't have one.

Yeah, this is all terribly patriarchal.

And when he wants to consummate Khushi is extremely confused and panicking cause she isn't sure what she is to Arnav (he goes from I can't live without you, kissing her forehead to literally you're the biggest mistake of my life and I wish I never met you in a span of a day) and of course she's still very very hurt. So when he confesses that he does love her, it puts a lot of her worries to rest. She has no more questions and is actually pretty stunned. She's happy.

If Arnav wants her, loves her, loves her enough to accept it - then that's the biggest validity. Nothing else can threaten her relationship with him because when he wants something, he ensures it's his forever.

And in this case he wants and loves Khushi. That's the best guarantee that she'll be with him forever.

There's such terrible writing and overnight scrapping of plot points here though that it's tough to understand what's quite happening. Although the beginning of this track served so well. The angsty dialogues, her snapping that this is just a contract marriage (tbh I'd much rather take him yelling he loves her when she just calls this a contract that's over than the whatever saat-phere thing).

It's kind like they went the least desirable way to execute a really good track. It had everything - comedy, romance and angst. I think they really wanted to unite ArShi at that point cause fans were frustrated but I believe we would've been open to argument escalating to him declaring he loves her - she coming back home after that with the brief peace of perhaps things getting better, some more romance now that they both know things are better and both are in love - and then Dadi coming in with Shyam's info that Khushi isn't as much of a wife as she thinks she is.

Best,

S