#why is her Cromwell so boring?

[carewyncromwell]

Back to School Challenge // hosted by @cursebreakerfarrier​

✨🌙𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑱𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑬𝒀 🌙✨

“Just this once, let me come through for you The way that you want me to... Let me make you proud! Let me show you the best in me! Let me give you a reason to believe that I can stand tall! And when I return, And I'm more than you dreamt I'd be, Maybe then you will realize That you never actually knew me at all!”

~“Let Me Make You Proud” from Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventures

x~x~x~x

Jacob Cromwell (formerly Bach) had never been a great student, prior to Hogwarts. Thanks to his unexplained and unusually powerful magic, he was quickly dismissed as nothing but a smart-mouthed delinquent who was determined to make trouble for everyone else. Even his own father, Evan Bach, had accepted this conclusion and frequently tried to discipline Jacob for “misbehaviors” that the boy hadn’t even done, most commonly by depriving him of constructive outlets like his favorite books, puzzle games, and chemistry sets. Sadly, as much as Jacob resented everyone’s vast misjudgment of him, he also was too proud to try to prove himself to people who were too stupid to see what was obvious or were determined to only see the worst in him. So rather than fight people’s preconceptions of him, he pretty much accepted it. He frequently slacked off in those classes he found boring, which in turn prompted many of his teachers to treat him as if he were unintelligent, rather than correctly assess that Jacob’s behavior was because he wasn’t being challenged by the material. The only person who truly knew how special and intelligent Jacob truly was had been his mother, Lane, a witch herself who -- because of the Statute of Secrecy -- was unable to tell Jacob of his talents until he received his Hogwarts letter. 

The day that letter arrived via Owl Post at the Bach home, however, changed all of the Bach family’s lives forever. 

For Jacob, it was the best day in his life. Finally, after so many years of being different and out-of-place and feeling like nobody but his mother and his baby sister Carewyn truly appreciated him the way he was, Jacob finally knew why all these weird, unexplained things happened to him. There was finally proof once and for all that he was not a bad kid -- he was a special kid, a real-life wizard! -- and that there were others, many others, who’d gone through the same struggles he had. Even his own mother had, and from the sound of things, Lane was pretty convinced Carewyn would too! 

Even Evan Bach’s cruel, abrupt exit from his family’s lives and the smoldering resentment Jacob would harbor for the rest of his life toward Evan for how much he hurt Lane wasn’t enough to dampen Jacob’s pure, undiluted exhilaration that came with going to school. Every moment exploring Diagon Alley was an absolute dream -- it didn’t matter if Jacob could only buy second-hand supplies with help from Hogwarts’ school fund: he just wanted to poke his nose in every single shop and look at everything. It was only really at Platform 9 3/4 when Jacob had to say goodbye to his mother and baby sister that the boy seemed to hesitate at all. Looking tiny, nearly-three-year-old Carewyn in the eye and seeing the scared, sad tears forming, and then seeing the slight strain in Lane’s smile as she carried Carewyn, Jacob faltered, his expression suddenly becoming incredibly guilty. Then, his blue eyes welling up with some tears himself, he ran over and threw both of his arms around his mother and baby sister.

Tiny Carewyn grabbed onto her brother’s neck with both arms and burst into tears.

“Dun go, Jacob!” she wailed. “Dun go ‘way, Jacob!” 

Both Lane and Jacob hugged the tiny girl as she cried.

“Aw, Pip, it’s okay,” Jacob tried to soothe her, smiling even through his tears. “I’ll be back before you know it!  And until then...I’ll write you and Mum so many letters, you’ll have ‘em bursting out of all the windows!”

Carewyn squeezed her brother’s neck more tightly still. “No! No, no -- dun want you -- dun want you to leave...”

Lane rocked her gently, even as Jacob moved back just enough to look his sobbing little sister in the eye.

“Hey, hey -- hey, Pip. Look at me,” he coaxed her. Once she’d blinked through her tears up at him, he gave her a much gentler, but still very serious expression. “I don’t want to leave you either, Pip. I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Then don’t,” mumbled Carewyn moodily.

Jacob brought a hand down to lightly pat her on the head. “But I gotta. You remember how I used to go away for school before, right?”

Carewyn sniffled. “...Uh-huh...”

“And I always came back, right? Even after what felt like a really, really, really long day -- the longest day ever?”

“Mm-hmm...” 

Carewyn’s lower lip was trembling, so Jacob lightly tapped her cheek with his finger, to try to startle her out of it. 

“Well, this is just like that,” he said reassuringly. “It’s gonna feel like a long time -- a really long time. But I’ll be back -- just like before. And even when you can’t see me, I’ll be working really hard, and thinking about you and Mum and missing you both every single moment!”

He rested his forehead beside Carewyn’s, keeping very firm eye contact with her. It was weird, but as much as Carewyn often avoided people’s eyes when she was upset, Jacob got this weird feeling that when she looked at him (or just about anyone else), she understood their feelings better than any words they could’ve spoken.

“So while I’m gone,” he said, swallowing back a painful lump that had cropped up in his throat, “I’m gonna need you to be a good girl and look after Mum and the flat for me. Okay?”

Carewyn stared at her brother for a long moment. Tears streamed from her eyes the whole time, but she had stopped making any further noise. Instead, after a long moment, she seemed to clench her jaw and she gave a shaky nod, before giving her brother another huge hug around the neck.

“Dun cry, Jacob,” she mumbled. “Dun cry. Smile lots and lots.”

It was like she knew how conflicted Jacob was, about leaving. As if the little toddler knew that however happy and excited he was to finally have this place waiting for him where he could really and truly belong, he wished beyond reason it didn’t require him leaving his mother and sister behind, after having just lost the stable life they’d had while Lane and Evan were still married. 

Jacob’s eyes softened. “Don’t cry. That’s right.”

He looked up at Lane, whose eyes were also now lined with tears, even as she smiled so fondly at her two children. Jacob couldn’t stop his own tears from flooding now as he clung to her too and Lane brought a hand through his short black-brown curls.

“Learn as much as you can, Jay,” she told him softly. “And have fun.”

Jacob closed his tear-soaked eyes and smiled. “I will, Mum.”

He gave a loud sniff, before he abruptly buried his face in the crook of her neck, right between her head and Carewyn’s.

“And I’ll work really hard, too,” he told her through a determined, bright white grin. “I promise.”

I won’t slack off this time, Mum. I won’t fail this time. 

This time...I’ll make you proud. I’ll make sure you know you were right to have faith in me -- I’ll show the whole world you were...

It took the train whistle blowing for Jacob to finally let go of his mother and sister, at which point he barreled up to the train door and jumped on board. As the Hogwarts Express began to pull out of the station, he kept his eyes on Lane and Carewyn until the last, waving broadly and grinning the whole time even as all three of them cried.

“Love you, Mum! Pippa!” he shouted over the train, as loud as he could. “I love you times infinity! Infinity times infinity to the sixieth power! I’ll write soon! Love you!”

From that point on, even with how much he missed Carewyn and Lane, Jacob kept that smile on as best he could, for the sake of his sister. And truly, the vast majority of his first year, that broad, blazing, boyish smile was 100% genuine. When Jacob first laid eyes on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from a first-year boat that contained a snooty-looking boy and a bright-eyed girl who would eventually become his first real friends in the world, his eyes and smile were brighter than a star, as he shoved his way to the front of the boat, drinking in every sky-high stone tower and candlelit window.

Jacob Cromwell’s first real love in all his life was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -- and he was determined to become truly great at this school...someone better than anyone had ever dreamed he could be. He’d be someone that his mother could be proud of -- that his sister could be proud of. In his mind, he could already see the pride in their eyes, when he did all those amazing things he’d dreamed up and more -- things no one else had ever done, let alone considered he could do. He’d prove all his naysayers wrong...and maybe, at the end of his time here at Hogwarts school, the whole world would open its arms to him.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #jacob cromwell #back to school challenge 2022 #my art #my writing #carewyn cromwell #lane cromwell #evan bach #duncan ashe #olivia green

[henryandkalcavillsdogpack41482]

Thoughts on Season 3 of The Tudors

I just finished watching Season 3 of The Tudors. To me, it seems like the most boring season out of the 4. Season 2 seemed to be the one that had the most excitement. I loved Jane Seymour, mainly because she did her best to help and meant well. The fact that she was thinking how she can get Mary and Elizabeth back their place and position in the succession of the throne and back into court, was one reason I had to like her. She also had a good relationship with Mary and Elizabeth as well. Henry seemed so extremely happy and content for a bit.

I think everyone hated Cromwell in this season, they made his execution so sloppy on purpose out of full and pure hatred. I can't imagine how much pain this man felt. I felt extremely bad for his son.

It kind of was a drag with Anne of Cleves. Then end the season by tossing in Catherine Howard. This is the Modern me thinking on this next part. It just made me sick that a 17-year-old girl is bedded by a man who by then was about into his 50's. It gave me a Hugh Heffner Playboy, Pedophile vibe. That is what happens when you let Charles and Francis Bryan decide that they will take care of a way that can distract Henry.

I'm only about 25 minutes into the first episode of Season 4, and not sure if it is only me, but Catherine just irks and annoys me. I get that she is still a minor, and thinks like a immature child. She's also extremely rude and a extreme brat. You just wanna strangle her you know. She doesn't take what being a Queen is and means serious. To her, this is all fun and dress up. Has no idea how come Mary declined her invite to sit down and eat pastries or why Lady Rochford doesn't seem to like her.

I'm going to watch the rest of episode one for Season 4, then go to bed. Hopefully after I get passed how annoying Kathrine is, the last season of the series might be as fast pace as Season 2 was.

#henry cavill #charles brandon #duke of suffolk #fan fiction writer #script writer

[monkeywriiter23]

The days turn into night. A book by me.(WIP)

      Chapter 1:

                                 Jack Thistle

I laugh . Me and my friends were walking home from our school in the very BORING city of Le Pufe.  It might sound like a fun city, but believe me, it's not. And if I had to guess, I would say It is the most boring city in Quebec, If not that, then in all Of Canada. Also,to put this out,I only mention this for reasons which you will find out about later in the book, and a LONG way onto the book, and we are also practical jokers. No, Like, a GANG of practical Jokers, cause it is our thing. Anyways (Insert hook here) Let's get Into this story:

´

“I LIKE YOUR CUT G” Kaden shouts at a random person across the street, As we walk away in storms of laughter.

´Well, see you tomorrow” says Ariz. “Bye”. At this point, there was just Me, Lucus, and Aurora left in are walking group. Me and Lucus live in the same apartment building, so we walked the same way. We turned the corner onto Cromwell street, and Aurora stepped out of the group. 

“Awkward,” I say.

 “What is?” said Luke. 

“T- '' I begin to say. 

“What the heck?” said Lucus. He was looking across the street, and a half man half wolf sort of thing was running into the bushes. He, or it, jumped into some white circle-like thing. Me and Lucus, being the stupid kids we are, chased after it. 

“Oh my gosh”. I heard screaming, and that was the last thing I remembered… at least the last thing I remember seeing, I could still hear fine. I was in great pain, and luke was nowhere to be found, but I could not see, so I thought he was just in shock. I guess someone found me at some point, because I felt myself moving, and I heard chanting. The way I felt myself moving was phenomenal, it felt like I was being carried away through the sky by a tornado, a tornado that made me feel like I was drowning. 

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAAAHHHHAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAAAHHHHAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.

   ***** “Beep beep beep”.  What's that noise? I said waking up from my dream. Oh. It's the alarm clock.I get up and turn it off. “Such a weird dream...” I mumble to myself. I check the time. 6:50  it said. I go to the bathroom and take a shower. It was a Sunday today, so I did not have to get up so early. My Dad would usually get angry at me for getting up so early, but he got a job that starts at 8 o'clock,  it’s all the way on the other side of town, so it takes two hour’s to get there.

since we don’t have a car and he has to take the bus. Me and my friends were planning to meet at the coffee shop downtown today, so I didn’t have a big breakfast. I probably could have not made a big breakfast anyway. At about seven o’clock, mom got up. “Good morning mom,” I said. 

“Good morning” she replied with her morning voice. “My friends texted me and asked if I could go to the coffee shop, can I go?”

 “Ok, but you are paying for the streetcar.” 

“Uggg, fine,” I say. So I finished breakfast, did my chores, plus my homework, which took until 9;30( ugh negatives to the power of 3,)  and stepped out the door and to the streetcar stop. It was nice to get fresh air for a change and to take a walk. 

 There was a nice breeze outside. It was a perfect mix between the sun and the city’s honking traffic. It was about 10 o'clock in the morning, so there was the wonderful noise of birds chirping.  There I was at the streetcar stop, rocking back and forth on my feet. The streetcar came with its classic screeching as it came to a stop. I was almost at my stop when I suddenly heard “next stop-’. Weird, I say to myself. Why didn't it say the stop name on the announcer?. The streetcar came, or screeched, shall I say, to a stop. I looked out the window, Two more stops,I said to myself in my head. I was dozing off… SCREECH… Bonk! Ow! I hit my head on the seat in front of me, because there was a red light. Oh good, I say to myself, My stop. If that didn't happen, or more simply, if I didn't hit my head on the seat, I would have missed my stop. This book seems boring so far, does it? Just wait, as time will tell. No, you shut up. I'm not arguing with you. Anyways, I took my phone out of my pocket, to text my mom. 

“'m at the cafe” I start to text, when all of the sudden…  “ I LIKE YOU CUT G !’ Kaden said as he hit me in the back. “

“Do you just do that with everybody? Oh, Hi Jack,” Aurora said. “So he’s finally here, is he?” said Lucus. “Yea, no crap Sherlock,” I said. “I'm gonna go get a coffee.” I walked into the cafe, which, for some reason, had a distinctive smell of gasoline. “One double double please.” Weird, I say to myself. Why is that guy looking at me?  He seems angry. Why Is-. That's the last thing I remember. Before I, for some unexpected reason, I lost consciousness, or so it seemed because it was only for a second. 

The next thing you know, I was back on the streetcar.

 *** 

Let me know if you want to hear more!

#books #writing

[greenforestflowers]

Ok so I recently read the Wolf hall books, and obviously the point was to present Cromwell as more sympathetic. SO can anyone explain to me why Hilary Mantel believed the best way to do that (when it came to Anne Boleyn’s adultery charges) was to have the reason he framed those specific men be because they made fun of Wolsey. That is the coldest, pettiest shit I’ve ever heard

You’d think (and to be clear, I’m not trying to excuse what he did) that the actual political reasons behind why he made those choices are at least more comprehensible than someone willingly murdering people for something so trivial? Like, it wasn’t unique to Cromwell, many people got rid of their enemies at court by taking advantage of situations or framing them. Again, I’m not saying this makes what he did right or acceptable in any way, but surely that is more explainable in context than:

‘yeah these guys dressed up and did a play which to me is worthy of a death sentence so now I’m going to have them killed, something I‘ve been plotting to do ever since it happened this is literally my only motive behind accusing them’

Like??? For gods sake Hilary that is so much worse

#why is her Cromwell so boring? #if you’re not really gonna touch on his political actions #either good or bad #you’d think she’d try and get his personality right #to make up for it #but no #he’s introverted quiet and reserved #the real Cromwell? definitely extroverted and talkative #had many friends #and #i wonder how much of the books were her genuine take on what Cromwell thought #and how much is just Hilary forcing her opinions upon him #like Catholics are presented terribly and Cromwell obviously did persecute them #but he had friends from both sides of the religious divide #neither of the above two things are mentioned #funny that #Cromwell #Thomas Cromwell #the Tudors #anti wolf hall #anti Hilary Mantel #tudors #cromwell

[marybeatriceofmodena]

Been reading a lot about Jane Seymour lately just to piece together her story from the VERY little we know about her, and there seems to be that line of thought that Henry didn’t really love her and/or that he may have married her in a rush because she believed she was pregnant and/or miscarried later... 

And honestly, I have my gripes with David Starkey’s book about Henry’s wives (and him as a person lmao), but one thing I do agree with him is that Henry tended to marry women he knew before marriage and that it came as close as it possibly could to marrying for love at the time (making that one of the reasons why the marriage with Anne of Cleves fell apart)? 

I guess I would go one step further by saying that Henry may have married these women because he was more in love with the archetype they represented in his eyes rather than the women themselves? To sum it up: 

Katherine of Aragon: She *was* a catch, after all, being the daughter of two of the most respected monarchs in Europe at the time (Ferdinand and Isabel), and she did bring a lot of prestige and legitimacy on an international level to the Tudor dynasty (I make her sound like such a broodmare, barf, but that’s medieval political alliances for you). Add to that the whole aspect of her being a bit of a damsel in distress due to being impoverished after Arthur’s death, and that all appeals to Henry’s sense of chivalry. Add that to how ambassadors would write that Henry and Katherine seemed very close and loving in the first few years of their marriage - except, of course, that luster starts to wear off with Katherine’s miscarriages. So, um, I guess the broodmare comparison isn’t so far off from Henry’s PoV. *barfs again* 

Anne Boleyn: She had the Renaissance Queen thing going on, similarly to Margaret of Austria or Marguerite de Navarre? Katherine was no dunce herself but my guess is that Anne was probably the kind of Renaissance Humanist Nerd who just goes on and on about stuff and is super passionate about it, added with a sprinkle of courtly love, so no wonder Henry is all heart-eyes about it? That gets shattered (or at the very least troubled) by Henry’s infidelity, but it does seem like his vision of her as the Perfect Renaissance Intellectual Queen was still going strong even close to her death, to the point it’s entirely possible Cromwell may have wanted Anne dead since Henry would have trouble completely detaching himself from her if she stayed alive (although I do think that thanks to some serious mental gymnastics and probably some brain damage after that 1536 jousting incident, he ended up really believing Anne was guilty).

Anne of Cleves: I mean, there’s the whole debate on whether she looked like her portrait or not, and what exactly pushed Henry to divorce her - but you know, while I agree that a big part of it might have been political motivations, I also think it may have been a lack of chemistry that just wasn’t compatible at all with the imagined idea Henry had of Anne before she came to England (whatever that was). 

Katheryn Howard: I mean, that one is pretty obvious. Pretty young girl who’s very graceful and joyous, makes Henry feel young again, and the minute he has enough evidence to believe she’s not as pure and wholesome as he thought, and worst of all, she reminds him of his own long lost youth... off with her head. 

Katharine Parr: Like, I think that a lot of the traditional point of view on Katharine being Henry’s ever-patient nurse might be due to how she was presented during her position as Queen Consort and after - nevermind her accomplishments but also the less savory parts of her life... And yeah, her Protestant sympathies might have not vibed with Henry’s traditionalism, but ya know, a caretaker also shouldn’t make you feel annoyed when you’re in pain with *GASP* heretical thoughts... 

So with Jane... the problem with people who’ll go on how she was boring/plain/nasty/cold or even a sociopath is that a) we have next to nothing of Jane’s own words so she can’t even present herself as guilty, much less defend herself; b) I feel like that kind of PoV is exactly the kind of treatment Anne Boleyn gets from her detractors, which leads to a rather ironic case of a double standard? 

We don’t even know the circumstances that led to her becoming Henry’s mistress, considering there are so many unanswered questions about her earlier life, such as the following: 

1) Why wasn’t she married yet, when at least one of her younger sisters was wed before her? And no, the “because she was boring and ugly lol” excuse doesn’t work, simply because it wouldn’t have mattered much for noble parents of the time, especially an ambitious family like the Seymours, since it was all about properties, riches, and getting heirs (and with Jane’s mother having lots of kids, it would be expected that Jane would be similar). 

2) How much of her marriage with Henry was her doing and her will? Like, I can buy the narrative of a young woman seeing herself becoming an old maid and being constantly belittled by her family as a failure of sorts, going for the golden goose but getting more than she bargained for, just like she could be a pawn used by various factions of the court who would have a reason to see Anne out (Catholics, for one, and Cromwell and his people, not to mention that Edward Seymour WORKED for Cromwell, so people who’ll try to claim that Cromwell had nothing to do with Anne’s trial and/or Jane becoming Queen make me lol). And for all the people accusing her of being a sociopath for getting engaged to Henry the day after Anne was beheaded, one begs to ask the question of how much of it was her will, and moreover, what kind of say she would have in it? For all we know, she *could* very well be the only one of Henry’s wives along with Katheryn Howard who had pretty much no say in marrying the King - not to mention that I don’t think her family would have been kind to her after failing to do that and effectively becoming an old maid. 

And, most importantly, it wasn’t a case where “it happened one night”, where Henry sought comfort to Jane, she fell pregnant by accident and welp, time for a shotgun wedding? Simply because Jane *was* Henry’s mistress for a certain period of time, three months at least (unlike Mary Boleyn probably lmao), which does kind of make me think: “Yeah... I don’t think she was that boring and nasty, tbh”

Now yes, Henry didn’t exactly treat Jane with the same amount of respect he treated his other wives - but I wouldn’t see that as evidence that he didn’t love her, simply because of the archetype he may have attributed to her? Namely the one of the Modest Daughter of a Country Gentleman Who’s Elevated to the Highest Position But Keeps Her Humility, unlike her predecessor? 

It’s entirely possible that Henry saw Jane as a sort of Cinderella figure, but that more importantly, he expected her to stay demure. So him treating her like garbage at times? It’s probably him realizing that Jane had a mind of her own (although I don’t really think she was some sort of mastermind, since some of her doings as Queen seem a little... gauche, added to the fact her husband was a wee bit of an arse and didn’t have much patience for her “mistakes”) and wasn’t the demure country girl he wanted her to be, so added to his probably still present turmoil about Anne, it made him snap, while she found redemption giving Henry a son... and conveniently die afterwards after fulfilling her duty. 

#history nerd tag #jane seymour #henry viii

[redladydeath]

jhgfdfghjkhgf i was going to just post this in the video’s comment section but for some reason that’s not working so here’re act one of the william and mary play:

Mary: Look, you’re my best friend, okay? And, um, best friends tell each other everything, right? Oh my god. Excuse me. Oh, Maria Regina, it was awful! He was awful, William, my Dutch cousin, or as father likes to call him “the Dutch Dog” *laughs*… I had the honor of being forced to dine with the extended family. My little Dutch cousin William– and was he rude! Oh my god. He spent the entire meal either staring at me or grimacing at the food. No manners. And he’s old too, like, at least thirty, not that you’d know by looking at him, he’s very short, but old enough to know better, and all that I could hear the entire time was his breathing– no, no, no– wheezing, with his tiny little child-sized mouth. *imitates wheezing* [indecipherable] –cause he had [indecipherable] big monster of a nose to use, but I guess that was out of commission. And King Charles II– God save him– and all twelve of his spaniels, seated at the table, eating off of the plates– how am I related to these people?

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shh! Shh! My sister! We’re fighting! Oh god. Uncle Charles– God save him– William... ew. I’ve never fit in with this entire family and now I find out that my sister’s been ta… my sister– No, no I will not stand here and idly gossip. My sister– no. Sh– no. Sh– no. Sh– nope! Betty!

Betty: Yes, your ladyship?

Mary: Um, take Maria Regina will you?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship. Anne has been screaming for you, your ladyship.

Mary: Yes, tell her I’m dead.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: No, don’t, that’ll get her hopes up. Tell her that I’m resting– exhausted from a fascinating dinner with our exotic Dutch cousin.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: And I can trust you all? Oh, um, and would you bring me an ink, pen, and paper?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: How’s this? Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear... girlfriend– no, no, no... lover– no, too saucy– um... husband? Yeah… it’s a woman, but we’re gonna call her a husband. Don’t get confused! Um, dearest husband, after my prayers to all-mighty God, I’ve come to make peace with you, for it is a strange thing for a man and a wife to quarrel. What more can I say to prove that I love with more zeal than any lover can? You are loved with a love never known by man–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: You are loved more than can be expressed–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: By your ever-obedient–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: SHUT UP!! –wife. But to my great sorrow, I find out that you’ve been corresponding with *whispered* my sister!

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your humble servant! To kiss the ground where you go–

Anne: What are you doing?!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your dog on a string, your fish in a net, your limber trout–

Anne: She writes me too, you know!

Mary: No, she doesn’t!

Anne: Yes, she does!

Mary: Shut up! [indecipherable] If my letter has made the effect, dear “husband”, on your hard ear, I may without scruple call you my dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband.

Anne: She is not your husband and your letter to her are weird. Also, she sends me letters and calls me her husband and loves me more than she loves you and you’re a lesbian!

Mary: That word doesn’t even exist yet, Anne!

Anne: Lesbian!

Mary: Keep your voice down!

Anne: She writes me more letters.

Mary: Our love is forbidden.

Anne: Get over yourself!

Mary: She knows unlike you I’ll be queen!

Anne: Whatever. I don’t care. I don’t even want to be queen.

Mary: Oh, good, cause you never will be.

Anne: Of course I will! When your head gets so damned big from all the bullshit praise, even your ugly, masculine, lesbian neck won’t be able to support its weight. Snap! And your head will fall off, like our poor headless grandpa Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Mary: To imagine the death of a monarch is treason, I could look you in the Tower.

Anne: You couldn’t!

Mary: When I’m queen.

Anne: You wouldn’t!

Mary: I could!

Anne: Nu-uh!

Mary: Uh-huh!

Anne: You wouldn’t be the first queen to do that to a little sister.

Mary: Well, you came in here and started it.

Anne: I know. I have something to tell you.

Mary: You could’ve waited!

Anne: I have a memory. About mummy.

Mary: Did you? Really? Would you tell me?

Anne: When we knew she wouldn’t make it much longer, she asked me to come to her bedside. She had just got her blood let, so she was speaking very openly.

Mary: It’s okay, Anne!

Anne: She asked me “Do you know why I named your older sister Mary but named you after me?”

Mary: Why?

Anne: Mummy said… “Because prefer you to that bitch older sister!”

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Mom liked me more!

Mary: I was named after a queen!

Anne: Yeah, Bloody Mary! “Oh, look at me! I’m named after a fat, bloated Tudor Catholic!”

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I just came in here to ask how dinner went.

Mary: It was lovely. Leave!

Anne: Was it? I bet it was boring.

Mary: Only for a child but when you’re fifteen years old you appreciate stimulating conversation!

Anne: [indecipherable]

Mary: Good!

Anne: Was he… stimulating?

Mary: Ew! I mean… yes.

Anne: What was he like?

Mary: Tall, dark, handsome.

Anne: Really? Tall, dark, and handsome?

Mary: Mmyeah.

Anne: I’m jealous.

Mary: You should be.

Anne: Did he stare at you?

Mary: What? No.

Anne: I guess he wouldn’t. Not after what I have heard.

Mary: Oh, I don’t even want to hear your idle gossip– what did you hear?

Anne: Oh, it’s just that father told me that Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –Tried to marry you off to him.

Mary: What?

Anne: For some Dutch alliance.

Mary: What?

Anne: Yeah. He turned you down though.

Mary: He turned me down?

Anne: Three times.

Mary: What?

Anne: And here I was going to come in and make fun of you! I thought William was a tiny little goblin man. That would’ve been so embarrassing!

Mary: Right…

Anne: If you were turned down by an ugly little goblin man.

Mary: Right…

Anne: Three times!

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Why?

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I thought he was stimulating!

Mary: I want to be alone!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re so weird! Maybe you’ll actually fit in if you didn’t lock yourself in your room all the time writing creepy letters. Some queen you’ll be! You’re friends with a fish!

Mary: Well, I will be queen whether I want to or not!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re engaged to Louis the fucking XIV, what right do you have to be mad at me?

Mary: ...Have you seen the latest portrait of Louis?

Anne: Yeah!

Mary and Anne: *squee*

Anne: He’s fucking gorgeous! Even for a Catholic!

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Anne: Milky skin, so fucking rich! Full deep eyes, tight little French ass…

Mary: Anne! God is listening!

Anne: [indecipherable] I’m just appreciating the work! Those portraits are rarely accurate though. You saw the portrait of Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –He looked like a Roman god dipped in oil.

Mary: What?

Anne: He glistened Mary! Like a buttered up Roman statue! In reality, he looks more like butter. Well… butter with syphilis.

Mary: Oh my god, you can be quite cruel Anne.

Anne: I’m destined to marry one of our fat, inbred cousins, so I’m allowed to be.

Mary: Sorry.

Anne: Yeah, it’s whatever. Well, I’m going! Unlike you I actually have friends to hang out with.

Mary: Oh, bad company ruins good morals.

Anne: Fuck you! See you at dinner.

Mary: That’s why that little Dutch dwarf was staring at me. Oh my God, could you imagine that tiny, wheezing little man crawling into your bed every night– oh my god, it’s an offensive thought! But the most offensive part? He said no! He said no to me! Oh my God, the man is a slug! William of Orange– blegh! And Uncle Charles– God save him– tried to make me marry that, not that I would’ve! No! I would’ve told him off, right to his face. I’m not afraid of him! I will not be made a sacrificial lamb. I would’ve told him off to his face! Right to his tiny, regal, little mustache: “No, Uncle! You may be king, but I will not marry that creature! Put me in chains; lock me in the Tower; feed me to the ghost of Cromwell; I absolutely refuse to marry that creature!” I would’ve told him off. I will not be made a sacrificial lamb!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Betty: Your uncle, King Charles II– God save him– is here your ladyship.

Mary: Okay, send him in.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

*dogs yapping*

Charles: Quiet, quiet, quiet! [indecipherable] Good doggy-woggys! Now, niece!

Mary: Oh, Uncle, God save you–

Charles: Rise dear! You’re one of the few girls at court I’d rather not see on her knees.

Mary: Oh– ew.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: I’ve just come from your mother and father’s apartments.

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Charles: Charming lady, your new mummy. She’s got those bovine hips, so I assume she’ll be plopping out heirs as soon as James’ dousing rod directs her away from foreign [indecipherable].

Mary: Oh my God.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: If God is good– and we know he is– she’ll give birth to a few boys before she’s spent. Women are quite fragile, as you know Mary. It’s especially hard with our good Stuart stock and– Oh, Dicky, no, no hump, no hump, daddy has a [indecipherable]. Might we can hope for a few younger brothers– you’d like that, wouldn’t you Mary?

Mary: Oh, yes, dear uncle. How I love being an older sister to our dear, simple Anne and how I’d revel in the opportunity to be an older sister again.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: [indecipherable] England [indecipherable] worry that another woman would take the throne.

Mary: Yes, poor England.

Charles: Yes.

Mary: Ah, ah, ah, ah!

Charles: Dicky! If that heifer can squeeze out just one little boy, England is saved! Oh, Mary, you see it’s not that women shouldn’t be involved in politics, it’s that they can’t. Their brains aren’t built for it! I don’t even know if you can comprehend what I’m saying to you right now!

Mary: I’m lost.

Charles: Yes, I assumed so. Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: *chocking, spits* [indecipherable] Go on, up! [indecipherable] Now, where were we? Yes– women are not fit to rule.

Mary: Sorry, once more.

Charles: I am king.

Mary: You are king.

Charles: I am a great king.

Mary: You are a great king.

Charles: Women… cannot be kings.

Mary: No, they’re queens.

Charles: …Very good Mary! I’m very proud. That’s a real thought you just had!

Mary: I’m lost again.

Charles: So, if I am king and women…?

Mary: Can’t be kings.

Charles: Then women…?

Mary: Can’t be great kings?

Charles: Exactly! I am very impressed with your understanding of Restoration politics. As king, I’ve found it requires tremendous subtlety. OW! Dicky, get off! Dicky, don’t let–! God, you bastard! Bite that hand that feeds you, ey? Groom of the Stool!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty?

Charles: Lock him in the Tower!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty.

Charles: You made a big mistake, Dicky! No [indecipherable] bites a sovereign.

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty!

Charles: Now, let us break our conversation into greater areas regarding your sex.

Mary: Ah, like needle crappy gossip.

Charles: And… boys.

Mary: Ah, yes, boys.

Charles: And… marriage.

Mary: Ah, yes, my purpose in life.

Charles: You a beautiful Stuart girl– Protestant– a large Protestant wedding to a regal, Protestant husband.

Mary: No, ha, Louis’ Catholic.

Charles: Louis? Yes, he’s Catholic.

Mary: Right, but you just said–

Charles: You, a beautiful Stuart girl– 

Mary: Oh no!

Charles: A large Protestant wedding–

Mary: Oh, god!

Charles: To a regal–

Mary: No!

Charles: Protestant...

Mary: Please!

Charles: Did you enjoy dinner last night? You [indecipherable] to impressed your cousin.

Mary: No.

Charles: William! Were you taken by him, Mary?

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: He was very taken by you.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: Your first cousin, so you’ll have a lot in common!

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: My dead sister’s boy! She was a real bitch.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: And you’ll have the line of succession, so you won’t have to worry about being queen, Mary. William can handle it. Sorry he’s such a cold, ugly bastard.

Mary: *spluttering*

Charles: Your Catholic father *spits* is pissed. Not surprising, but I ordered him to shut the fuck up about it. The wedding is next week. La~!

Mary: Wait! Anne!

Charles: Oh, you’re too thoughtful, dear girl! Anne will be fine on her own.

Mary: No, no, no, marry Anne off to William!

Charles: Certainly not! You’re next in line after your idiot father. We’ll marry Anne off to one of the fat, inbred cousins.

Mary: But I learned French!

Charles: And now you’ll get to learn Dutch! It’s not a beautiful language, but it matches the people. The king exits!

Mary: *sobbing*

*church music / exert of “Aria” by Marco Rosano*

Priest: Gathered! His Royal Highness Charles II!

Ensemble: GOD SAVE HIM!

Priest: The bride’s father James (the eventual second)– what? Your father refused to attend!

Mary: *sobbing*

Priest: We are gathered today in the eyes of our Protestant God to witness the eternal joining of two people, and more importantly, two nations. Our beloved England and our at-least-for-the-time-being-not-enemy Holland.

*fanfare*

Priest: The Dutch Stand Stadtholder! ...William? ...The Prince of Orange!

William: *violent coughing*

Priest: William? You good?

William: Ja.

Priest: Do you need a minute?

William: [indecipherable]

Priest: Okay! So… the, uh… the Dutch Stadtholder! The Prince of Orang– William?

William: *violent coughing* [indecipherable]

Priest: We are gathered– we are– we’re gathered– we are gathered– gathered– and we are gathered–

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Pardon?

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Sorry, I–

William: [Dutch word], stepping [Dutch word].

Priest: Oh, yes. *groaning* NOW! We are gathered for the joining of two people, two nations, and one [indecipherable] faith. Do you, Mary, take a solemn vow to obey and honor William until you’re parted by death? Okay, good. Do you, William, take a solemn vow to take Mary as your bride and treat her with whatever respect you happen to feel like showing her? Alright, whoo! You’re all good in here. You may kiss the bride.

William: *violent coughing*

*retro dance music* / exert of “Oh! Oh! I'm Goin' Home” by The Peppers

Mary: Wow. Midnight. Where did the time go?

William: Time for bed.

Mary: Right. Yup. Time for bed. It’s late and… it’s late and… it’s late and… it’s time for bed and there’s the bed, it’s time for bed and… we’re married now.

Charles: Now, nephew! To your purpose! God save Saint George and England! *giggling*

Mary: Right, historically, um, all of that actually happened. Well– oh, sorry, I was talking to someone else. Well, I guess it’s late, right? It’s late and it’s, um, time to go do– time to do– time to go do do do do do do do do doing of it. Ah! Wow. A ring… Is it for me? …Should I take it? …I’ll take it. Wow… a ruby… yes, ruby– rubies are very– rubies are red! Red. Rubies are… pink actually, now that I look at it. Funny, they’re really much more pink. Everyone always says “ruby red” but they’re much more pink when you look at it, oh look at that, it’s–

William: My mother’s.

Mary: Your mother’s? Wow. Beautiful. Ring. That was your mother’s. Ring, ruby, ring, ruby, ring–

William: She’s dead.

Mary: What? Oh, I’m sorry. About that– that she’s dead. What happened? Sorry! No, none of my business. Poor Mum! Um, my mom is dead. Died when I was a child so… I know what it’s like. To have a dead mum. *awkward laughter*

William: You don’t have to smile for me. You don’t have to pretend.

Mary: Dearest dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband– this is the woman again, um... You’ll find a pair of horns on your front door for… it appears I’ve taken another husband. Hm…

*whistle*

Anne: I brought you a going-away present. It’s another goldfish.

Mary: Thank you, sister.

Anne: I knew you already that one, so you’d like it. I hope they don’t eat each other. Do goldfish eat each other? Is it a long trip to Holland?

Mary: I don’t know!

Anne: You seem glum. Story time! When Aunt Catherine–

Mary and Anne: God save her!

Anne: Married Uncle Charlie–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: She had to leave Portugal in order to marry him. She hadn’t even met him yet, so I guess it could be worse.

Mary: Yes, but she came to England, I’m leaving it!

Anne: Yeah, fair. Just trying to help.

Mary: I don’t need your help, dear sister, this is my cross to bear.

Anne: Saint Mary the Martyr of English diplomacy! If only you were Catholic.

Mary and Anne: *spit*

*whistle*

Mary: I’ve never left London, that’s what scares me the most. God be with thee, sister. God be with thee, England.

William: …Two.

Mary: Oh. Yes, Anne got me one as a going-away pr– okay.

Anne: I hate him.

Mary: Well, he’s your brother now.

Anne: Please, I hated him when he was my cousin. I think you should be the first Protestant saint just for sleeping with him. I can’t even imagine!

Mary: …Neither can I.

Anne: WHAT?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!

Mary: Well, considering we haven’t, that’s everything to tell!

Anne: Oh my God! You’ve been married a week!

Mary: This stays between you and me, Anne!

Anne: Oh, but Mary, I have to tell my friends!

Mary: I don’t like your friends!

Anne: Fuck you! The court would die if they knew!

Mary: No!

Anne: But Mary, you can’t tell something this juicy and force me to hold it inside!

Mary: Shh!

Anne: But it’s not you Mary, it’s him. That puny prig.

Mary: No.

Anne: But you don’t even like him!

Mary: What wife likes her husband?

Anne: He’s so gross and I used to think you were gross, but he’s like, super gross. Oh thank God you’re not screwing! Your kids would be so gro– I didn’t realize Papa hadn’t told you the truth about him!

Mary: Oh, what did father say?

Anne: He buggers boys. Said he buggers boys. Said if he takes the throne, England gets two queens.

Mary: …I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths, Anne… And tell my other husband I’ll send her the new address.

Anne: Gross! [indecipherable] each other!

*Dutch folk music* / exert of “Klompe Dans” by Camerata Trajectina

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Oh, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Ah, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you.

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, good day William!

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Life in Holland. It’s beautiful. It’s very, very clean.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Your ladyship?

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you! Please keep talking, Betty.

Betty: Your ladyship–

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Anything in English�� thank you!

Betty: *whispers*

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

*fanfare*

Betty: Supper time!

Mary: I’m not hungry.

Betty: Not you, your ladyship.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland…

Mary: …Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

Mary: I must grin when my heart is fit to break, I must speak when my heart is so oppressed I can scarcely breathe.

Betty: Oh, that’s real pretty. The Bastard, your ladyship.

Mary: The Bastard?

Betty: Your half-cousin, King Charles II– God Save Him–’s bastard son, your ladyship.

Mary: Here?

Betty: Uh-huh.

Mary: Whoo!

Monmouth: Cousin!

William: Let me not interrupt your reunion. Continue this.

Mary: How’s home?

Monmouth: England is good! The family not so much. My father, Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –seems ill. Parliament hates your father, James (the eventual second) since he’s decided to be Catholic–

Mary and Monmouth: *spit*

Monmouth: –since we just had nine years of civil war, ugh! People would rather avoid any foreseeable royalist drama, so Parliament wrote the Exclusion Act to keep your father off the throne.

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –refused to sign it.

Mary: Oh, good.

Monmouth: No! That’s why [indecipherable] is shit! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –dissolved Parliament, hoping to form a more moderate one.

Mary: Oh, good!

Monmouth: No! Bad! A group of Protestants then tried to blow up my papa Charlie–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –on his way back from a race to [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: Oh yes!

Monmouth: –[indecipherable] watching the race, ALL OF NEWMARKET CAUGHT ON FIRE!!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No, that’s good! Charles’– God save him– house in Newmarket was destroyed, so they had to leave the race early, thus foiling the plot to kill him!

Mary: Oh, God is very generous to our family. And how’s Anne?

Monmouth: Married.

Mary: Oh, to one of the inbred cousins?

Monmouth: We’re royal! Inbred cousins are the only dignified option! How’s life in the Dutch court?

Mary: Um… clean, it’s very, very clean.

Monmouth: Ah, thank God you have William.

Mary: *hysterical laughter* ...Yes. No, I do see William from time to time. He likes to walk from stage left to stage right to stage right to stage left.

Monmouth: Incredibly generous man– looking forward to our dinner tonight! He invited me to hunt tomorrow and all the rest of next week! Very charming!

Mary: You’ve only been onstage for a minute and a half!

Betty: There are more officials for you to meet, your ladyship.

Monmouth: See you around, cuz. Ch-cha! …Ch-cha!

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

William: …Welkom in Nederland! *laughter, interrupted by violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Alright! Her ladyship has another engagement she must prepare for, so sorry!

Mary: Ugh, what’s next Betty?

Betty: Nothing, your ladyship. I just think you’ve been gawked at enough today.

Mary: Oh, thank you Betty!

Betty: What’s a lady-in-waiting for?

Mary: But I’m afraid William might be cross once he finds out I didn’t finish all the state greetings. I guess I’d actually have to spend time with him for him to be cross with me.

Betty: He’s not one to get cross about things; he’s quite charming actually if you get past the hermetic silence.

Mary: I suppose he prefers the company of *whispered* his men?

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: *laughing*

William: *starts coughing violently*

Monmouth: I love this guy!

*fanfare*

Betty: You’ve heard that already, have you?

Mary: Is it true?

Betty: Rumors, your ladyship. I also heard rumors of a girl who wrote letters to a woman she called her husband. And I now know a woman who still writes these letters!

Mary: Dismissed!

Betty: Your ladyship.

Mary: Wait. Put the children to bed, will you? Wait– wait, wait wait– just [indecipherable]. Don’t judge me! Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– stop!– husband… Let me start again: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband: You’ve not responded to any of my letter as of late!

Anne: Dearest sister!

Mary: Oh good God, Anne! Still able to interrupt me from across the English Chanel!

Anne: It is with good nice that I write. Since we last spoke… I’m pregnant!

Mary and Anne: *squeeing*

Anne: I know! I know! I fucking know! Ah, someone has to produce some heirs in this family!

Mary: Hey…

Anne: What have you been up to? Oh! My friends are here! Thank you, sis!

Mary: Anne is pregnant. My younger sister is pregnant …I’m jealous! Ugh!

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: To hunt!

Monmouth: ♪ I’ll sing you eight, O! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Green grow the rushes, O! ♪

William: ♪ What are your eight, O? ♪

Monmouth: ♪ Eight for the April Rainers! ♪

William: ♪ Seven for the seven stars in the sky! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Six for the six proud walkers! ♪ Five for the symbols at your door! ♪ Four for the Gospel makers! ♪ THREE, THREE THE RIVALS! ♪ Two, two the lily-white boys! ♪ Clothed all in green, O! ♪ One is one and all alone! ♪ And evermore shall be so! ♪

*fanfare*

Mary: Betty!

Betty: *imitating the song*

Mary: Stop!

Betty: Oh! Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: My cousin, the Bastard, and Prince William have been spending an awful lot of time together!

Betty: William loves the hunt.

Mary: How do you know?!

Betty: He told me!

Mary: You’ve spoken with him? Am I the only person in the entire world who’s not had a single conversation with my husband?!

Betty: You just need to catch him in the right mood.

*fanfare*

Mary: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– Oh my God, you’re pathetic! Two husbands and neither one replies!

Anne: Okay, so I wasn’t pregnant. Well, I was, but I’m not anymore.

Mary: Oh… Anne I’m so sorry!

Anne: I know. But I will be again. Maybe tonight! God be with me!

Mary: I don’t have to be Mary the Martyr. I can fix him. I can make it work. It’s a job, right? I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I’m just doing my job!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! Um, I was wondering–

William: Nothing!

Monmouth: The hunt did not go well!

William: Ugh!

Anne: Yup, pregnant!

Mary: Again? Wow!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’d love to talk with you!

William: …but–but–but we’re going to the hunt?

Mary: Yes, but I’d really like to talk with you.

William: …Okay?

Mary: In private.

William: Um… After the hunt?

Mary: Yeah, okay, sure.

*fanfare*

Anne: Okay, that pregnancy wasn’t meant to be, but tonight, THIS IS THE ONE!

Mary: Tonight, this is the one!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’m so looking forward to our evening!

William: Not in the mood!

Monmouth: The stag got away!

*fanfare*

Mary: The stag got away…

Anne: Pregnant!

Mary: Ugh!

*fanfare*

Mary: William, wait! Tonight?

William: Eh!

Mary: Wait! Here, for good luck!

Monmouth: *retching*

*fanfare*

Mary: Tonight! Tonight!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, husband! How was the hunt?

William: I got the stag!

Mary: Oh, you must be very merry!

William: I… uh… I’m exhausted. Ugh…

Monmouth: Come on. Shake it off.

William: *violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Mary: I will force myself to love this creature.

*fanfare*

Mary: *screams* ...Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! It must have been a chill!

William: [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh, oh no! Oh no! Oh, my slipper! Oh, I–I’m so sorry to, uh, keep you from you duties!

William: I’ve been meaning to schedule a time for our talk.

Mary: Oh, you remembered?

William: What was the subject?

Mary: Us. You and me. Us and our… duties.

William: Ah. Our political duties are not as rulers, but as first citizens. Stadtholder means “the first citizen.” It is very different from life in England. For example, no Dutch citizen kisses my hand. In the Netherlands, we are all equals. Calvinists, Protestants, Jews– even the Jews Mary. [indecipherable] Do you like Holland?

Mary: Oh, it’s very, very clean. I’m not, um… I’m not sure if I’m fitting in.

William: Well, I don’t fit in and I was born here.

Mary: I feel the same way about my family.

William: Our family.

Mary: You’re very close to the Bastard, you know. Hunting and… actually talking and I was thinking, now that we’re actually talking, Anne is pregnant… again.

William: Ja? ...Yes? …This life is not the life you wanted, is that a true thing I just said? Bastard! Where is [indecipherable]?!

Monmouth: *whispers*

William: Your uncle, Charles II–

Mary: God save him!

William: –he’s dead.

Charles: …Oh.

Anne: I had a miscarriage. Oh, and Daddy’s the king now. God save him.

William: To his newly crowned majesty– James II– I send you greetings–

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James II! Boy, you’re the husband of my eldest daughter, the heir apparent to the throne of England, my father’s grandchild, my son-in-law: it’s King James II!

William: Ah. From one very close ally to another very, very close ally– that is what we still are, right?

James: Say it! Say my name, William!

William: King James II?

James: YES! That’s me, the king! Say it again!

William: King James II, I first wish to send you condolences on the death of your brother, God save hi–

James: I was at his bed when he passed.

William: Surely, you provided much comfort to Charles–

James: Oh, “surely provided much comfort to Charles,” yes! He converted, on his deathbed, to Catholicism!

William: *spits*

James: I’ll never forget his final words to me: “Make sure my whores don’t starve!” Men of power keep mistresses, you know… Do you know that, William?

William: …Well, uh, the reason I write is because, well, I have an offer for you. You see, here in Europe we have a little club. I call it “a league”. Not everyone is allowed into it, actually, but England most definitely would be allowed in “the league”. It is what may be described as “exclusive”. A lot of really great countries have joined: uh, Austria, Spain, the Netherlands, even Savoy.

James: Which countries are not allowed?

William: France.

James: Oh, don’t like Louis, do we?

William: No, I don’t! Louis wants to be king of Europe and he– he is routinely invading us here in Holland. Your son-in-law: who is that? That is me! Which I know you aren’t thrilled about, but your daughter is the Princess of Orange. Louis XIV is invading not just my country, but also her country.

James: Please. Mary’s country is, and always will be, England!

William: And as the future Queen of England, you should protect her.

James: I wouldn’t be so sure about Mary. While she is the eldest, she’s still a woman, and unlike you, William, I plan to perform kingly duties with my queen.

William: I just wanted to invite you to our league.

James: I’m very important, I’ve got to go.

William: France is at our borders as we speak!

James: That’s not my problem. Mary was betrothed to him for years, you know, before she married you. My idiot brother made that happen against my protests but I’m the king now! I wasn’t supposed to be, but God wanted me. God needs me! Sixty years of second-fiddle to King Syphilis and now I’m calling the shots, William! I don’t need you, you need me, and frankly, I don’t really like you.

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!

William: Why you do that?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!! Thank you. Ooo, ooo, how they all loved my brother Charles the Pervert– forced me to marry my daughter to that Dutch abortion! Now, I’d like to speak to the court! You all like… gossip, don’t you? Let’s talk about William.

*retro music / exert of “O Samba Brasileiro” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: They’re laughing, Maria Regina. They’ve been whispering all morning and I don’t– I don’t want to sound paranoid but… I hear my name. I hear William’s name and I hear… Betty’s name.

Messengers: God save him!

Mary: Hello?

Messenger 1: Your father sends us–

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: James II–

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Oh, Father sends you?

Messengers: God save him, yes!

Messenger 2: In his infinite and divine wisdom, we were sent to you–

Messenger 1: His oldest daughter–

Messenger 2: Possibly the future queen–

Mary: Possibly?

Messenger 1: Your mother, the queen–

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Messenger 2: Is hoping to reward England with many sons–

Messenger 1: But one’s eyes are to the future–

Messenger 2: He hasn’t forgotten his eldest.

Mary: Oh, we haven’t spoken–

Messenger 1: He thinks of you often.

Mary: Well, he doesn’t write.

Messenger 1: It’s not that he thinks of you as you are–

Mary: Okay…?

Messenger 2: More for what you could be.

Mary: Well, I’m just happy that he’s thinking of me.

Messenger 2: He’s thinking of your soul.

Messenger 1: Your eternal soul.

Messenger 2: Your eternal, everlasting soul.

Mary: Yup, those both mean the same thing.

Messenger 1: Since Jesus was crucified–

Messenger 2: [indecipherable], mind you–

Mary: Yes, I’ve heard.

Messenger 1: A church was born–

Messenger 2: The Catholic Church!

Mary: *spits* Oh, sorry, habit.

Messenger 1: James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has sent us–

Messenger 2: In his infinite and sacred judgment–

Messengers: To convert you to Catholicism!

Mary: …Yeah, no, I’m good.

Messenger 1: It’s the true faith.

Mary: Yes, next time he could just write.

Messenger 2: [indecipherable] reading materials!

Mary: Right, or even visit–

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] all the celebrities are Catholic.

Messenger 2: Wow, really?

Messenger 1: Really!

Messengers: Like who?

Messenger 2: The pope, you ever heard of him?

Messenger 1: Of course! Wow, the pope is Catholic?

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: God!

Mary: Debatable.

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: Louis XIV.

Messenger 1: Whoah, he’s a heartthrob.

Mary: Yes, okay, I’ve heard enough!

Messenger 1: But Louis’ such a hunk!

Messenger 2: And Catholic!

Messenger 1: And… He’s Catholic?

Messenger 2: You better believe it!

Messengers: A Catholic hunk!

Mary: Okay, I’m married!

Messenger 1: For now.

Mary: …Excuse me?

Messenger 1: Hard to ignore the rumors–

Messenger 2: Naughty rumors–

Messenger 1: Everyone’s tittling–

Messenger 2: A-tittle here, a-tittle there–

Messengers: Tittle everywhere!

Messenger 1: That little Dutch devil–

Messenger 2: Evil Protestant pervert–

Mary: Oh, no, no, no, him buggering boys– that’s just a rumor!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messengers: Buggering boys?!

Messenger 1: More like buggering the help.

Messenger 2: Dutch devil!

Mary: With the help?

Messengers: Buggering the help.

Messenger 1: Yes, everyone knows–

Messenger 2: Knows her name even.

Mary: Do you know their name?

Messenger 1: Well, I’ve said everyone–

Messenger 2: We’re part of everyone–

Mary: So, yes?

Messengers: Yes!

Mary: What’s his name?

Messenger 1: His name?

Messenger 2: His name?

Messengers: Squinty Betty!

Messenger 1: Squinty Betty’s a man?

Messenger 2: I didn’t know she was a man!

Messeger 1: No, I bet Betty’s a man.

Messenger 2: No, man, she’s a wo-man.

Messenger 1: Wo-man?

Messengers: Wo-man, she’s a wo-man!

Mary: Wait, Squinty Betty?!

Messenger 1: And the Dutch devil!

Messenger 2: Evil Dutch devil!

Messenger 1: Evil!

Messenger 2: Evil: that’s not good!

Messenger 1: No, it’s not good!

Messenger 2: That’s the opposite of good!

Messengers: And what’s the opposite of good?

Mary: Evil!

Messangers: *scream*

Mary: *screams*

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has the fires burning.

Mary: Fires?

Messenger 2: To feel the heat.

Messenger 1: Ow!

Messenger 2: Careful.

Messenger 1: It’s the heat.

Messenger 2: I feel it.

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] King James [indecipherable] our beloved England [indecipherable] burning more evil people than Charles ever did.

Mary: Wait, he’s burning people?

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: He’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Father’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Jesus!

Messengers: Praise him!

Messenger 1: Praise Jesus!

Messenger 2: Praise God!

Messenger 1: Praise the pope!

Messenger 2: And above all, praise the king!

Messengers: God save King James II, long may he reign!

Mary: …William and Betty– no… No, I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths… Betty! Um, throw these away. And, um, put the children to bed, will you? Oh– oh– oh– oh– oh, um… question: how is it you always to find William in such a talkative mood?

Betty: I just run into him.

*laid back retro music / exert of “Rain” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: It’s late. No, you don’t have to leave. You were in Betty’s room. Do you know how I know that? Maybe because the entire court is talking about it! No, you don’t need to talk! I have tried to get you to talk for months, you do not need to talk now! Fuck off, Betty! The longest I’ve ever spent with you is [indecipherable]. You’re impossible! You’re thick! Uncaring! Cruel! My life here is suffering and now you make me the fool? To my father, to the court, and to myself! I’m the fool! You know, it was better when I thought you were gay; I thought “Well, at least it’s not my fault” but now I know, “No, it is my fault!” You turned down marrying me once before, why did you have to say yes this time? I was engaged to Louis XIV! I could’ve been in Versailles, in the most beautiful place on Earth and I would’ve been happy– no, I would be happy! And I would be liked and my family would love me and I would’ve done everything right, but then you came along! And ruined it! And everything! And me! And– this isn’t right! No! This is not how this was supposed to go! It was supposed to be me and Louis and it would’ve been right and normal and then I would be normal and happy and I don’t know– I don’t know why you had to say yes this time! Louis– Louis– Louis is– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis’ the king! Right? Right? And he’s beautiful! I assume. I’ve seen the portraits– which are rarely accurate– but I’ve always wanted to marry him! Well, I was always supposed to marry him– but at least he’s nice! Yes, I’ve not met him, but at least I’ve heard that he’s ni– well, I guess I’ve actually not heard anything, but I was alway supposed to ma– Well, I guess I always– Okay, well, I guess I’ve never really actually thought about it! Well, I guess I never actually like Louis, or men… Men in general. I mean, I write to a woman who I call my husband, and I’ve always had a crush on her, but she’s not very nice to me, and she writes to my sister more than she writes to me, AND I DON’T KNOW IF I’M A LESBIAN, OKAY?! I don’t like men! But I don’t know if I like women either– historically speaking, there’s some things we just can’t know about me, okay, historically speaking– but personally speaking, you know what? I’M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD!! How am I supposed to know?! You know what? No! I didn’t want to marry Louis, now that I think about it, because, well, I never actually thought about it because, well, I’M NEVER SUPPOSED TO THINK! But I am gonna think! Like you said, we’re just first citizens here, right? So I’m allowed to think! So I’m gonna think! So I’m gonna think! Right, let me think! …Okay. I have something to say. I’m fifteen years old, William. Do you have any idea how scary this is? Leaving my country, marrying you, a stranger, I… I don’t speak the language, I don’t have any friends, and you, my husband, are still a stranger. You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to like me. But please don’t be cruel to me. I… I do not know how much… more a fifteen year old girl can take.

William: …Betty’s a spy. Before I married you, I had asked her to inform me about you.

Mary: Yeah, a spy, that’s the best you could come up with–

William: It’s true.

Mary: Yes, my lady-in-waiting is a spy! …Well, what did Betty the spy say?

William: She said you weren’t like your family.

Mary: Well, I tried to be like them.

William: I never tried.

Mary: Well, I think that makes you honest.

William: But not liked.

Mary: Well, they don’t like either of us. We share that at least.

William: I need to say something.

Mary: Okay! Good! Yeah! Okay! I’m here! I can listen! …Is it a problem? Is it personal? Is it about what I think it’s about? I know what it is, William.

William: You do?

Mary: Yes. It’s about–

Mary and William: Your penis / Your father

William: Wait, what?!

Mary: What about my father?

William: He terrifies me.

Mary: Oh, yeah, me too.

William: The balance of peace in this world is a delicate thing and James isn’t.

Mary: You can talk to me about these things, William. I know who my father is, you’re not going to hurt my feelings.

William: Yes… My penis?

Mary: Oh, um, well, I mean… why haven’t we…?

William: I’m uncomfortable around–

Mary: Me.

William: …people.

Mary: Oh, yeah, well, same, haha... But, um… It’s just a job, right? We would just be… doing our… our job.

*classical music / exert of “Zadok The Priest, Hwv 258″ by the English Chamber Orchestra*

William: *panting*

William: *panting*

William: *panting*

Mary: I HAVE NEWS! …I’M PREGNANT!! I did it! William did it! We, um… well, obviously, we did it. Oh my God, I feel a strange thing!

William: Are you okay?!

Mary: No! Yes! No! …I feel… happy.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: Hello, Anne!

Anne: Hello, Mary.

Mary: You’re pregnant?

Anne: No, Mumsy is.

Mary: She’s not our mother.

Anne: They say if it’s a boy, God has chosen to make England Catholic again, but that’s only a 50-50 chance.

Mary: No, he wouldn’t baptize him Catholic, Anne.

Anne: I wouldn’t be so sure.

Mary: But we’ve just had nine years of civil war, why would he lead us into another?

Anne: To save us from the Dutch Devil.

William: Me?

Anne: I prefer “the Dutch Abortion” but “devil” isn’t bad. Gotta go!

Mary: God be with thee, Anne.

Anne: P.S. I may be pregnant, not sure.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Mary: Ohhh!

Messengers: Glorious day!

Messenger 1: Tra-la!

Messenger 2: We���ve been sent to you by your father, the king!

Messenger 1: God save him!

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Again, he could always just write.

Messenger 1: He has his own pregnancy to attend to.

Messenger 2: His future son!

Mary: Are you certain about that?

Messenger 1: God ordained it!

Messenger 2: A Catholic England!

Messengers: Tra-la!

Messenger 1: We’ve been sent to beseech you.

Messenger 2: Consider your child’s–

Messenger 1: Everlasting soul!

Messenger 2: Baptize your child in the Catholic faith!

Mary: *spits* …morning sickness.

Messenger 1: For your child!

Messenger 2: For your father!

Messenger 1: You must respect him!

Messenger 2: Honor him!

Messenger 1: It’s in the Bible!

Messenger 2: “Honor thy father”!

Messengers: The Fifth Commandment!

Messenger 1: Honor the king of England!

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: Long may he reign!

Messenger 2: For England!

Messengers: Make the baby Catholic!

William: Mary?

Mary: Yes?

William: Honor is not obeying.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: You’re pregnant.

Anne: Besides that, Mary, but yes.

Mary: Oh, congratulations!

Anne: Yes, same to you!

Mary: Thank you!

Anne: Thank you! I have news: people are talking about Mother’s pregnancy–

Mary: Ah, she’s not our mother.

Anne: –And they think it’s all a big fake! Everyone is saying how [video skips]

Mary: Who’s saying that?

Anne: The court, Parliament, everyone! Oh, they don’t like Papa; they say every nineteen out of twenty want him gone.

Mary: Yes, but not likely cause the king does not–

William: Mary–

Anne: Ew!

Mary: Anne!

Anne: Sorry… Hello, William… glad you got my sister pregnant. *retches*

Mary: No. No, it’s not right for me to dance… No! No, I can have this moment! I can be happy! Yeah, nothing’s gonna stop me– *claps* –from enjoying this moment! Go ahead!

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Monmouth: Ah! I thank you for the generosity both you and William have shown me over the last undetermined period of time, but I must leave.

William: Oh, where’re you going? I was going to plan another hunt.

Monmouth: There comes a time in every mans life where the cruel, [indecipherable] eye of destiny looks upon him! The hero of every story has his moment of action! [indecipherable] standing on the precipice of glory to see the apotheosis of my journey’s end on that glorious mountain green! Today I sail! This story shall no longer wander unguided like an orphan clinging from one vague historical anecdote to another! No! Search no longer, poor play, for you have found your hero! And that hero… it’s me. Someone has to save our England! I have a mighty army of almost one hundred men! Eighty two to be exact!

Mary: Wait, with eighty two men you’re planning to–

Monmouth: Invade England, seize the crown, depose your father, my uncle, and save England from Catholic *spits* tyranny?

Mary: You’re planning on doing this with…

Monmouth: Eighty two men! Historically, this is what I did, so yah. [indecipherable] sweet cousin, it will be a Protestant England! ALL HAIL KING BASTARD THE FIRST! CHA-CHAH! Ah! He-yaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Mary: Eighty two men can’t overthrow the king of England!

William: He’s hoping the people will rise.

Mary: What would they do to father?

William: Kill him.

Mary: Ah! Ah!

William: Okay, okay, okay! The Bastard doesn’t have any support, your father will be fine! You can have this moment; you deserve to be happy.

Mary: How? I may not like my family, but I love them. Yes, I-I deserve to be happy, but Father doesn’t deserve to die!

William: He won’t, he’ll be fine!

Mary: You can’t know that for sure.

William: I do! …I-I promise you– I-I… I promise on the life of our child that nothing will happen to your father. I’ll see to it.

Mary: You will?

William: Mmhm.

Mary: …Okay… Okay, yes, okay… I’m happy.

William: Rest. Nurse? Take my wife to her bedchamber. Make sure she doesn’t want for anything.

Mary: Ooo!

William: [indecipherable]. James?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James?! Use my full title!

William: I have grave news.

James: Oh, has France invaded you again?

William: Your nephew, the Duke of Monmouth–

James: Who?

William: …The Bastard.

James: Oh, why didn’t you say?! How is the lad?

William: He’s leading an army to depose you and take the crown for himself.

James: *laughs* You’re having a laugh! …Shit! How dare he! Doesn’t he know who I am?! I’m the king! I’m very well respected and loved– everybody loves me! *gasps* Why doesn’t he love me?! Oh, he’s just a little shit bastard, I’ll crush him! How dare he not see how awesome I am! How powerful and strong and– oh! I am so mad right now! It was a good day too, it was going really well, I had just finished telling the queen “I’m gonna make it a good one today, you know!” Ugh, I am so mad right now I’m literally shaking! *gasps* I need to eat something!

William: I hope you now see that our relationship is very…

*execution drums / exert from “March to the Scaffold” by Paul Edward*

Headsman: *giggling* For your crimes against the crown, you are sentenced to death!

James: Say hello to your father for me, boy. Any last words?

Monmouth: Fuck off!

James: How dare you! Kill the bastard!

Headsman: God save the king!

James: No one questions my authority!

Monmouth: Piss off!

James: Bastard?!

Monmouth: I have still a few [indecipherable]

James: How dare you! [indecipherable]

Headsman: Thank you. One more!

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh?

Monmouth: You are!

James: Bastard! [indecipherable] I am not a douchebag, I am the king of England!

Monmouth: Douche of England more like it!

James: Cut off his head!

Headsman: [indecipherable] does anyone want to take over, huh?

Monmouth: It takes– ugh! –and this is all true– ugh! –five blows! Ugh! King Douche II! Ugh– *splutters*

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh? Not me. I am not a douche! You hear me, Bastard?! I am not a douche! You hear me, England? I am not a douche! I am King James II! Not King Douche II! King James II! Charles didn’t respect me, and you, you didn’t respect me, but my people will. OR I’LL FUCKING MAKE THEM! They will fucking tremble in love and adoration– ohh! I want hundreds to pay for this bastard’s actions! I don’t care who they were, if they even so much as saw him walk by, they are to be executed. Churchyard trees are to be littered with corpses, the military men will be order to play in time with the twitching of their feet! And if you think that this is too much, too cruel, I’ll remind you: One, I am just being historically accurate, and two, I am the goddamn motherfucking King of England! William!

William: …your majesty.

James: Oh, I couldn’t’ve done it without you! …But I know what this is. Scared to lose a few more windmills to Louis, huh? What, you thought that you could bribe me with this little quid-pro-quo?

William: I didn’t do it for you, I did it for Mary.

James: Mary? Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this. What? You thought that I was so stupid that little nugget of information would have me on all-fours like a whipped bitch begging to do you any favor you asked? No! That little shit was nothing! I could have fought him off while wiping my ass! I owe you nothing! France may be at your borders, but England could join them just as easily! God knows Louis and I talk about it. *laughs* Tip-toe around me, William. Now, I’d like to speak to my daughter. Now!

William: Mary, could you come here, please? I have a letter for you from your father.

Mary: He’s safe! Thank you, William!

James: Mary, my eldest daughter! *laughs* You know, I fought your uncle Charles about you having to marry that–

Mary: [indecipherable] William’s wonderful, actually. Yes, I–I miss my home very much, but Holland, it’s very, very clean.

James: [indecipherable] they tell me you’re considering a Catholic baptism.

Mary: Oh, no I’m not, Father.

James: You have a responsibility to me, Mary. Biblically, I am your father and you must honor me.

Mary: Well– I do honor you.

James: Then you must obey me.

Mary: Well, honor is not obeying.

James: From King Douche II to you now?

Mary: King Douche?

James: How dare you! I am very [indecipherable] you talk back to me. I am your father and you must honor me!

Mary: Enough of this.

James: You will make the child Catholic!

Mary: Stop!

James: We all know you have no choice. You’re a prisoner.

Mary: Please…

James: [indecipherable], Mary, there’s hope in the distance!

Mary: What are you suggesting?

James: Just because you… lie with the Dutch Dog doesn’t mean you need to get its flees.

Mary: He’s my husband!

James: *laughs* William isn’t long for this world.

Mary: What are you planning?

James: Oh, come now!

Mary: What are you plann– ah! Ah!

James: *laughs* You look like him. Can’t even walk without wheezing, spits blood; your time in the tower is almost over, Mary.

Mary: He is the father of my child. William, could you come here, please?

James: *scoffs* Is he the father? Last I heard, he couldn’t perform.

Mary: You’re one to talk!

James: My performance isn’t to be questioned!

Mary: I know the rumors of the queen’s great belly!

James: [indecipherable] rumors: just a few!

Mary: Nineteen out of twenty! That’s what– ah! Ah!

James: Make the child Catholic!

Mary: *spits*

James: Your mother–

Mary: She’s not my mother!

James: No, your real mother! Remember the day she died?

Mary: Please, Father, I’m in pain! I don’t want–

James: The day she died the priest came to administer her last rites, to cleanse her soul. Without it, your mother would be damned for all eternity! Her skin would scorch, blisters would form– weeping blisters!

Mary: *voice breaking* …William?

James: A priest came… and she refused him.

Mary: William! …That’s a lie!

James: After my counseling she refused the Protestant priest. The Catholic bishop was called in and all was confessed. So, in your philosophy, Mary, is it your mother or your child who’s damned to unfathomable pain and suffering? Which is the one true faith? If you baptize that child Protestant, it means you believe it’s your mother suffering, right now as we speak. Have you ever considered hellfire, Mary? *laughs* It’s something to think about. Oh! Your new mummy’s in labour now. Got to run.

Anne: Mary– and William *scoffs*– the queen’s had a baby. It’s a boy. They’ve baptized him Catholic *spits* toldja so. But there’s something else. I have some gossip! All of London– they think it’s a changeling! They think it’s not a real child. They think she snuck a child into her bed to pass off as our brother! Oh! Papa’s going mad. Something’s going to happen. Something bad.

William: May I see it?

Betty: There’s nothing to see. ...You should go to her, William.

*dramatic music / exert from “2020” by SUUNS*

♪ And what you see is really what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ Do what you please, the thing what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ And what you see you feel ♪ ♪ Coming real, take your way ♪ ♪ All through the way… ♪

~ Intermission ~

*guitar strumming*

Chorus: ♪ Good fortune [indecipherable] William and Mary [indecipherable]-tend ♪ ♪ May glories increase and their lives never end ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] daily successes our nation may find ♪ ♪ For England [indecipherable] they both are designed ♪

Mary: William?

William: Huh?

Mary: Why is there a Greek chorus?

William: [indecipherable] chorus now.

Mary: Yes, why?

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commands and we will obey ♪ ♪ Over the hills and far away ♪

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! What story with a Greek chorus ends well?!

William: It’s just a device, Mary, it doesn’t mean–

Mary: The letter! They’re here because of the letter!

William: We received a letter?

Mary: From England. They call themselves–

Chorus: ♪ THE IMMORTAL SEVEN! ♪

Mary and William: The Immortal Seven.

Mary: Parliament has invited us to England.

William: They’ve invited us to invade England.

Mary: Why would they do that?

William: I don’t know.

Mary: We can’t invade!

Chorus: ♪ Invade you must, there’s no time to waste ♪ ♪ James is a monster! Our country defaced ♪ ♪ Blood in the streets and corpses in trees ♪ ♪ Come and put our minds at ease ♪

William: Your father is in talks to invade with Louis. Where? Here! He’s–he’s had his boy and he’s baptized him Catholic and all of England is on the brink of Civil War again!

Mary: What does that have to do with us?

William: Um, well… They want us to depose your father.

Mary: It has to be us?

William: I don’t see another alternative.

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! Is it right?

William: Right? We–we save England, we save the Netherlands, we keep Europe in balance– yes.

Mary: But is it right for a daughter to depose her father? It’s the Fifth Commandment, right? “Honor thy father!”

William: He doesn’t need to die.

Mary: Well, I know my history, William! You only depose a king by killing him. How many former kings do you see walking around?! But… He can’t invade Holland! It’s your country and you care so much for it and the people and it’s so very, very clean– Okay, yes! We should do this. But we have to do it a different way. No blood. No killing. If it’s an invasion, it has to be a bloodless invasion!

William: I don’t know…

Mary: Can you try?

William: Invade one of the most powerful countries in the world, other-throw its king, and not hurt anyone in the process?

Mary: Please?

William: …Ja.

Chorus: *gasps* ♪ What’s that you say? ♪ ♪ We prick up our ears ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] you come ♪ ♪ To end all our fears ♪ ♪ Think of what you both could be ♪ ♪ You’ll go down in history! ♪

Mary: We could, couldn’t we! Imagine all that “First Citizen” stuff here in the Netherlands– we could do that in England! You could bring all of your wonderful ideas to my country! Imagine: Freedom of religion!

William: Freedom of the press!

Mary: And no more torturing! Or bloody pomp and circumstance! And we do it bloodless! We ride into England and the people will rise with us and father will say “Oh wow, that’s what the people want!” And it’ll all work out [indecipherable] Why shouldn’t we be king and queen?! Neither one of us want the damn job so we’re the ones who should have it…

William: Would I be king?

Mary: Yes.

William: Who would you be?

Mary: The queen.

William: Right, but who’s the one in charge?

Mary: …Oh.

William: It would be you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Oh, me? No. 

Chorus: *murmuring in agreement*

Mary: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! I’d rather not.

William: It’s not up to you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Ah, but you! You–you are after me!

William: Right, but you still come first.

Mary: But I don’t want to be queen– okay, wait, wait! Let me think… Okay, solution. ….We’ll… both be king and queen!

William: It does not work that way.

Mary: [spluttering] Listen! We go to England; you raise an army and depose– aw– depose father and then we say “Alright! We’re both king and queen!” What’re they gonna do, say no?

William: Joint monarchs– it would be a first.

Mary: [indecipherable] I don’t know if it’s right. God says to honor thy father, but… that doesn’t feel right.

William: We can say no, Mary.

Mary: No… You okay?

Anne: Yes, quite, sister.

Mary: Okay, good.

Anne: Stop staring at me!

Mary: Let’s keep going. And my heart says to bother you.

William: Your heart says that? What do we want to do?

Chorus: ♪ To England, to England! We sail, we sail! To England, to England! At last, at last! A tempest, a tempest! Begins, begins! And [indecipherable], and [indecipherable]! [indecipherable], [indecipherable]! ♪

Soloist: ♪ To England, we sail / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ The men are afraid ♪ ♪ There’s no debate ♪ ♪ Revolution now must wait ♪

*storm sounds*

Mary: Ahh!

William: THEY’RE CALLING IT THE CATHOLIC WIND! WE CANNOT SAIL FOR ENGLAND UNTIL IT PASSES! WE’VE ALREADY LOST A THOUSAND HORSES! WE HAVE FORTY THOUSAND MEN WAITING TO INVADE– BUT THIS WIND!!

Mary: There have been so many omens! This wind; the miscarriage! Is it a sign from God?! Can a daughter who deposes her father be a Christian?! Can doing what’s right and God’s will be at odds?!

William: WHAT?!

Mary: CAN DOING WHAT’S RIGHT AND GOD’S WILL BE AT ODDS?!

William: Oh, it is over.

Chorus: ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ William and Mary, our God has ordained ♪ ♪ Rex and Regina, this we say ♪ ♪ Sail on the future king’s birthday ♪

Mary: Wait, really?

William: Ja. It’s my birthday. The fourth. Historically, that’s just how it happened to work out.

Mary: Oh! Well, that’s a good omen, right? Happy birthday to you!

William: Yes.

Mary: William, wait! Look… I respect you. And, under normal circumstances, I would never breach this, um, unspoken agreement, but, um, it’s his birthday– ah, could we– um, uh– you know– could we do just one round of “Happy Birthday”? Um, what’s a good starting note? *hums* Is that good? *hums* Ready?

Mary, chorus, and audience: ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday dear William! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to your! ♪

*cheering*

William: This is the greatest birthday present I’ve ever received. Thank you.

Chorus: ♪ William has come and we will defend ♪ ♪ To kick out the tyrant and and then will ascend ♪ ♪ His first steps on English soil ♪ ♪ Defender of faith and [indecipherable] ♪

William: Hello? Where the hell is everyone?

Peasant: *screams* Oh, it’s [indecipherable] Day. Everyone’s busy catching cats.

William: Ah. Well, um, I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith and– wait, why are you catching cats?

Peasant: To [indecipherable] the pope.

William: Ah. Well, I am William of Orange, Defende– the pope?

Peasant: *sighs* Not the real one sadly, but yeah. [indecipherable] cats and set them on fire.

William: Why you do this?

Peasant: For God! It’s tradition! …You’re not from around here are ya, foreigner!

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolu– ♪

Peasant: [indecipherable] you are making such a racket!

William: I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith!

*cat screeches*

Peasant: [indecipherable] you scared the cat!

William: Good woman, have you not heard of our coming?

Peasant: …[indecipherable] in England?

William: I–

Peasant: [indecipherable] and whip em til their backs be bloody!! Ngyeehhhhhhhhh!!

William: *screams* I AM WILLIAM OF ORANGE! I COME FROM THE HAGUE BY INVITATION OF PARLIAMENT! Good lady! We come to overthrow King James II.

Peasant: *spits*

William: Progress. I am the [indecipherable]’s husband and myself, third in line. We come to bring stability and religious… freedom to this… country.

Peasant: Oh, you and what army?

Chorus: ♪ We are [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ Join is so you [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ James will soon be overthrown ♪

Peasant: Oh, [indecipherable], sir! I don’t have anything of worth but… I’d be proud to give you my cats.

William: *coughs*

Peasant: Oh, must be the cat smoke.

William: Oh, this air is filthy. I need a little rest.

Messenger: ♪ One man tried to poison your food ♪

Anne: ♪ Some with bullets [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ Mostly [indecipherable] ready to fight ♪

Charles: ♪ [indecipherable] horse was white! ♪

William: Let us move forward!

James: William! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!

Chorus: ♪ James was appalled by the sight that he saw ♪

James: ♪ I’ll have your head, boy, remember [indecipherable]! ♪

Chorus: ♪ Soon his generals started to fall ♪

James: ♪ Troops, make an example of him! ♪

Chorus: ♪ James’ troops then began to abandon ♪ ♪ Our glorious William now [indecipherable] ♪

James: Did you not all swear your loyalty?! You are all my subjects! *gaps* Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You must swear your loyalty to your father! It is God’s will! The Fifth Commandment! Consider the hell– *splutters* What the hell? Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ Blood from his nose ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] to God ♪ ♪ James was denied ♪ ♪ His royal throne ♪

James: No! No! What the hell?! *spluttering* The Fifth Commandment– shit! This is terribly inconvenient

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To James [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ His nose really bled ♪

James: WAIT, WHAT?!!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To France, King James ♪ ♪ Finally fleeeeeeeeeeee– ♪

James: STOP SINGING!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ –eeeeeeeedddddd ♪

James: What, is this really historically accurate?! You’re just gonna let me go, William?! HA! Coward! I will return, William, I promise you that! Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You will suffer the fait of an unfaithful daughter. This is not how my story was… suppose to be told… To France.

Chorus: ♪ William has won now that James has fled ♪

William: *prolonged violent coughing*

Chorus: ♪ London is happy! ♪ ♪ With bonfires lit ♪ ♪ Willy’s lungs can’t take the smoke ♪ ♪ And all the fog just made him choke ♪ ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commanded and now we’ve won ♪ ♪ Our new day begins with the rising of the sun! ♪ ♪ Of the sun! ♪

William: *groaning, gasping for breath*

#redlady speaks #it takes. a really long time to transcribe something #history brainrot #william iii #mary ii #the glorious revolution #charles ii #james ii #queen anne #the stuarts

[unmaskedagain]

I Knew You Were Trouble

I got really inspired today. This is another crossover fic. It’s actually with one of my all-time favorite childhood movies. Can you guess the crossover before the end?

 Marinette knew he was trouble the second he walked in.

           Like there was nothing Marinette was surer about than the fact that she was in some serious trouble.

           Not school trouble. Not friend trouble. Not boy trouble. Not bully trouble.

           No. The trouble that resulted in Marinette’s parents attending her funeral.

“Care to introduce yourself,” Bustier smiled at her newest student.

           The boy gave the class a polite smile, “Kal.”

           Marinette swallowed hard as she fought the urge to run from the classroom; run, call her grandmother, never look back. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Her Aunt Aggie had always told her to be brave when faced when the forces of evil.

           She wouldn’t run from the likes of Kal.

           Marinette just had one question.

           How was he here? How was he alive? How did he look exactly the same now as he did in the pictures from twenty years ago?

           Her cousin had destroyed him, like she did his father. In the battle of light versus darkness; good versus evil, Good won. Light won. Kal had been sucked into an endless void, dead, never to be seen or heard from again.

           …Until today.

           The handsome dark haired boy looked around the class with clear distaste. He wore a shirt and black pants. He eyed the students, with a bored expression on his face. The girls swooned when he smirked there way. Marinette kept her face black as his eyes looked over her; doing her best not to draw attention to herself.

           Then the oddest thing happen; Kal didn’t blink twice at Marinette. He barely looked like he knew she was in the room. That didn’t mean much to Marinette. The bluenette practically radiated magic some days. He’d figure her out in no time. No, Marinette couldn’t play defense with the likes of Kal. Offense only.

           Bustier directed him to the back of the class, to the only empty seat available… Next to Marinette. And once again, the bluenette cursed her rotten luck. However, her heart was filled with hope with Lila got involved.

“Maybe Kal can seat next to me,” Lila said. “There’s enough room with me and Adrien. I know what it’s like to be new. I can help you.”

           Kal rolled his eyes, “I’m good. But thank you.” And swaggered to the seat in back. As he sat down, he winked at Marinette. Marinette smiled brightly at him like she would at nearly anyone. Though to do so, she had to stab herself in the leg with a pen to stop herself from stabbing him.

           The class started. Bustier began teaching her lesson unaware of the drama that was just about to happen in her class.

“Must be my lucky day,” He leaned in and whispered to her. “I get to sit next to the prettiest girl in school.”

           Marinette kept the smile on her face, as to not draw any attention their way, though not it felt more like baring her teeth, the same way some animals did when they attacked. “How’s your father?” Marinette whispered back. “Kalabar, wasn’t it?”

           Kal’s black eyes widened in shock before settled on a pleased expression. “A witch,” He stated. “Good. I’d thought I’d end up killing myself stuck around mortals.”

“They’re not that bad,” Marinette was quick to defend. Her mother was mortal after all. “Mortals that is. The kids in this class,” Most of which were now her ex-friends. “Kind of suck. Why are you here?”

“They suck,” Kal chuckled. “And yet you’re here. A long way from...” He seemed to remember where they were as he cast a quick look around and his voice lowered, “Our native land.”

Marinette pretended to flip through the pages of her textbook. “You’re a long way from the dark pit in hell you crawled out of,” She hissed. “Planning on taking over the world again? Because I have no problem kicking you right back there.”

Kal snorted. “Such righteous fury. You remind me of…” The amused looked turned into a glare. “Cromwell?”

Marinette giggled and nodded, “Marnie’s my cousin.”

Rage overtook Kal’s face. All the lights in the classroom suddenly exploded. Shadows grew stronger as Kal’s magic was unleashed, and seemed to overtake half of the class room. The only light came from the sunlight behind Marinette, and radiated from the bluenette as she let her magic rise in all its glory.

And once again, the darkness of a son of Kalabar and the light of a daughter of Cromwell battled against other.

           The kids panicked.

“Everyone remain calm,” Bustier said. “If there is an akuma we’ll be alerted. Ladybug will take care of it. Everything will be fine.”

“Akuma?” Kal asked, his eyes still trained on the Bluenette, with a raised eyebrow.

           Marinette shrugged, “Welcome to Paris.”

           Then he smiled at her; really, honestly smiled. It was the most mesmerizing sight. And she forgot. For one second, she forgot the evil that she was always warned lurked in the heart of a Kalabar.

           But now she understood why her cousin had fallen so hard for him when she was a teenager. Marnie hadn’t just been a foolish, naïve teenager head over heels for some guy she just met. No, there was more to it. There was something alluring about the way Kal held himself, the aura he projected; the way his magic sang to hers.

           Marinette just wondered one thing…

Why does the devil look so much like an angel when he smiles as you?

The class went by quickly. Witch and warlock feigned relaxation, while going over every spell they had ever learned in their heads.

When the bell rang, Marinette was gone. She flew out the door as fast as her feet could take her. She couldn’t go home, she knew; not yet. So instead, she headed to the library. In the far back where they put all the outdated computers.

She sat down on the top of an old table and tried to catch her breath. Then out of the shadows, literally, walked Kal. He shook his head at her, “Don’t you know?” He asked the Cromwell witch. “No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.”

Marinette crossed her arms, “And yet all the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

Kal raised in hands in surrender, “I don’t mean you any harm.”

“That sounds like a lie.”

“I’m serious,” The dark haired teen stated. “You can tell. I know you can. It’s a Cromwell gift. You can always tell when someone is lying. Listen to me carefully. I, Kal, son of Kalabar do not mean you any harm. I was not aware you went to this school. I was not aware any witch of the Cromwell bloodline was in France. Okay?”

           Marinette wanted to stomp her foot in protest. He was telling the truth. “Why are you even? Why do you look like that? Aren’t you like in your late thirties?”

“I should be,” Kal frowned, “I should be thirty-five. I should be a graduate of Witch University. I should be back home, in the family mansion, with a family of my own. Or about to start one.  I should be an adult, living a life of my own. Do you want to know why I’m not?”

“Why?”

Kal sat on top of the table across from Marinette, “Because after the fight with Marnie was sent somewhere; in a prison the forces of light and dark had created during our battle. I was stuck in a place outside of space and time. Outside of reality. That existed everywhere and nowhere. An endless void. Every world and realm I went to was frozen on the moment I was sent there. Just after midnight on Halloween night. And it never changed. The clocks never ticked, not once. The sun never rose or set. The moon was never full or new; just a crescent in the sky. The flowers never bloomed. There was nothing and no one but me; wandering from empty town to empty town. I never knew how much time had passed. Sometimes it felt like an eternity had gone by, sometimes just a few minutes. It didn’t matter one way or another; I never aged. The tricky party was not going completely insane. And I spent a lot of time wondering I had or not. If I deserved this what I did, for the people I hurt.”

Marinette remained silent as he talked; truth ringing in his words.

“I read every book in the Witch University library,” Kal continued. “I read every book in the Oxford University library. Half to keep myself from going crazy, half to try to figure out a way home. I never did. Some things just don’t make sense. Like a bunch of Cromwells being powerful enough to break the barrier between our world and mortal realm.” He laughed a bit there. “Then one day, the entire world shook, literally. And then I’m falling, and the next thing I know I’m landing in the middle of your Agatha Cromwell’s kitchen. She looked exactly the same too so I think I hadn’t been gone that long. Then she tells me with this pitying look on her face; twenty had gone by.”

           Kal closed his eyes as anger coursed through his veins. He clenched his fists. “Twenty years. I had been gone for twenty years. In twenty years, do you even know can happen? You were born. You grew up. You are the exact age I was when I left. And still you are younger than the amount of time I was there. When you said you were a Cromwell; for five seconds I thought you were Marnie’s daughter. Because that’s how long it’s been. Both realms have changed and left me behind. My friends are all grown up; they have kids and lives and stories. My mother passed away while I was gone. I don’t recognize my own home; the place I was born, raised, lived, laughed, and loved. And that same place doesn’t recognize me either. Saint Agatha Cromwell took mercy on me and sent me here. You were right, I did crawl out of hell.”

           It went quiet. Neither knowing entirely what to say. She couldn’t believe her aunt didn’t warn her she was sending a Kalabar her way. Oh, she was so telling her grandma.

           Marinette broke first. “You didn’t deserve that,” She said. “Sure, you turned everyone in your world into human. And everyone here into monsters but no one hurt. Most don’t even remember. You didn’t deserve an eternity of nothingness. Prison, yes. But not that. You were just a kid. You’re just a kid.” Like me, she didn’t answered.

           He nodded stiffly.

“If it means anything…” She said. “Marnie still swears you were the toughest villain she ever fought. And she took down a guy who tried to steal her family magic, hired a witch killing knight, and tried to destroy the doorway between the worlds forever.”

           Kal blinked, a bit stunned, “That’s a compliment if I ever heard one.”

           Marinette giggled. He smiled. And once more, Marinette fought not to look away. She was a Cromwell witch. She would not go weak in the knees over a Kalabar.  “Let’s just agree to stay away from each other.”

           He got off the desk, letting the darkness of his magic flair up, and he leaned toward her, “I don’t make deals with Cromwells,” He whispered. Marinette’s breath caught in her throat. “So why don’t you be a good little witch and stay off my bad side.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Marinette whispered. “This is my city.”

“Then prepare to see it burn.”

           Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle that came from her. “You’ve already had time to catch up on Batman movies?”

           Kal grinned, “That was the first thing I did.” He smirked. “I think you and I could have a lot of fun, Marinette. Teach the mortals a thing or two. I’ve been here less than a day and I already want to turn half the class into toads. Specifically that Lila girl.”

“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged. “That feeling never quite goes away.” It gotten worse, if anything. Her friends had all turned against her; fell one by one to Lila’s lies. “But I’m a big witch. I can handle them myself.”

           Kal stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Yet you haven’t. And I don’t think you want to. Even though every part of you screams you should.”

           Marinette shook her head, “We’ve evolved past that.”

           Kal shrugged, “If you ever change your mind…” He moved to leave but then turned back around, a rose was in his hand, “Or maybe I really did inherit my father's attraction to Cromwell witches.” He gave her the rose.

           Marinette took it, a small smile on her face. “You shouldn’t let your magic do you’re talking for you.”

           He didn’t answer; just disappeared back into the shadows.

           Yep, Kal was trouble.

           And Marinette was definitely in trouble.

#ml fic #ml salt #class salt #halloween town #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette deserves better

[magaprima]

Okay, maybe it’s my knowledge of history, maybe it’s the fact I did studies years ago into human trafficking where similar instances happened, maybe it’s knowing people in my family’s countries have had to do similar things throughout history, maybe it’s the fact I remember my lit tutor saying ‘how a person reacts to a fictional character’s plight is revealing of how they would behave in reality’, but I am getting so fed up of people condemning Lilith for what happened to Adam, or worse, mocking and belittling it like ‘omg she straight up murdered her kid lmao wtf’ which was actually a real comment I just fucking deleted off a GIF set I made. See, this is why I’m seeing these idiots, because they feel the need to comment on a GIF they’re NOT EVEN REBLOGGING. But whatever, I digress. My point of this post is:

 LILITH DID NOT MURDER ADAM. SHE DID NOT KILL HIM IN PETTY REVENGE. SHE DID A HEARTBREAKING THING THAT MADE HER WANT TO DIE WHEN IT WAS DONE IN ORDER TO SAVE HIM FROM THE HORRENDOUS CRUELTY AND ABUSE SHE HAD SUFFERED FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS. And this is without the added consideration that the trauma of such a painful, unnatural birth and post-natal exhaustion and other hormone/chemical issues would have effected decision making and problem processing. 

Okay, so listen; mothers killing their children to spare them from horrors is not an invented concept. It is horrendously true and has happened throughout history. Primarily, to stop their children being taken into slavery, being raped by invaders, saved from sex rings or taken for whatever miscellaneous yet horrendous situation they’re in, which has included abusive fathers. I am speaking as someone who is Irish, where Cromwell swept the land throwing children into slavery (my great-great-so-on Uncle was a child who was taken, but he survived, and we have relatives out in the Caribbean due to this, which is also how a great-great.great-grandparent met his wife. But again, I digress) and knows there were instances where those, unable to hide their children, killed them rather than submit them to the absolute horrors Cromwell’s men were inflicting (they raped a lot of women, murdered the men, raped and/or stole the children. Whole villages were decimated) and as someone with Mexican grandparents and knows how ancestors were treated so violently and cruelly by invaders that killing children to spare them was by no means an uncommon reaction (and an entirely understandable one).

The most famous incident of this happening, possibly because she was already a slave and therefore considered ‘property’ rather than an unnamed native person being dragged from their home, and it was recent enough for official news reports, was Margaret Garner. She was a runaway slave, and, when surrounded by slavers to take her back, she cut the throat of her 2 year old daughter, and planned to kill her other three children and then herself, but the slavers got to her first. They then told her she was property and not a mother at all, and they weren’t her children, but the slaver’s property and therefore she’d damaged property. The horror of that story is undeniable and Margaret’s actions undeniably understandable and cry for sympathy and empathy....and YET, there are still people who condemn her today. Really. So it shouldn’t surprise me there are people condemning a woman in a fictional story too. 

More recently, there have been cases/stories coming forward of human trafficking victims, getting pregnant through no fault of their own, and, knowing the child would be trafficked too, have smothered them in their sleep before they could be taken. 

Lilith is an abuse victim. Severely abused. She is treated as a slave, Lucifer even says ‘you belong to me and only me’ considering her to be his property, ‘Lilith knows her place; to serve’, ‘there is no escape to Tibet or anywhere else’. Lilith, really, in part 1 and half of part 2 has fucking Stockholm Syndrome; she has no reason to be loyal to Lucifer, we see how afraid she is of him, yet she sticks by him and is grateful for the scraps of approval he gives her. She has suffered so much abuse for thousands of years and lived through it that she had been entirely mentally conditioned by it. It took a huge amount of inner strength, and developing relationships with others (namely Sabrina and Adam 2.0, but also the likes of Theo Putnam, Mrs Meeks) for her to break free of that mindset.

But Lucifer is her abuser. There are countless instances of where we see her absolute terror; look how she begs for mercy after Sabrina’s failed Dark Baptism, how she flinches and covers her face when he comes near her, think of the terror in her eyes when he says ‘and you know what I’m like when I’m bored’, think of her sickening fear in part 3 when she realises the Dark Lord is free, how full of panic and fear she is trying to find out where he’s hiding, of how she desperately tries to hide at fucking Mary’s to get away from him, how she’s dragged out by her hair, think of the fear she has on her face when she chooses to face him and watch the horror on her face as she realises what he’ll do to Adam, and look at the fear and broken spirit of her when she realises she can’t stop him. 

Lucifer has abused Lilith for millennia and convinced her that it was love that he was ‘lifting her up’ and ‘making her worthy’, classic abuser language. He even used her own freaking familiar against her. She was treated as property, treated however he chose in that particular moment, and by her own claim she’s done ‘unspeakable things’ to help him, believing she loved him. THOUSANDS of years of abuse and she’s only recently broken free of that, before she’s forced back into his arms, metaphorically-speaking. She is now, however, aware it’s abuse, and she knows what she’s suffered, and how cruel he is, and how he made her into something else, how he used that abuse and cruelty to mould her into what he wanted (think how differently she behaves when she’s his ‘loyal servant’ to how she behaves when she’s free from him and independent. We see a very different Lilith). She knows what Adam will suffer, because she’s suffered it herself. When Lucifer says he’ll suckle on a hell hound and ‘toughen him up and all that’, the expression on Lilith’s face is heartbreaking; she knows exactly what he means by toughen him up. It’s the same as ‘make you worthy’. And the thought of her son going through everything she went through, and then constantly having to fight for his life, fighting against Caliban or Caliban’s children, suffering everything Lilith has, but never having known anything else, never having anyone who loves him truly, no one who could help him escape...it fills Lilith with fear. 

And, she’s seen the Dark Lord get his way over and over again. She’s seen how even Sabrina accepts him as her Father now. She knows the Aunts offered to protect her, but even Hilda is only suggesting they leave, like they can’t actually physically fight him, only do their best to keep Lilith safe. And Lilith knows he’ll find her eventually; her experiences and her severe abuse mean she sees it as inevitable, because she’s ‘learned’ it’s inevitable. Lilith cannot see a possible way to keep baby Adam safe. She knows the only way she can protect him from the Dark Lord is to kill him, and destroy the body (or devour the body, however you wish to interpret the bloody scene) so he can’t resurrect him after he’s killed her. Because, yes, Lilith intends to die. Like Margaret Garner, her plan was to die WITH her child, but she was stopped. Lucifer knew that was her intent, that that was what she wanted (she does openly beg him to kill her) and that is exactly why he makes her immortal, so she can never be with her son, but by cursing her with humanity-- to age and rot etc-- he’s making sure she will only get weaker and not have the power to get back her son by any means. 

Lilith continues to try to join her son throughout the next episode, to the point of getting a hold of the only blade that can kill an immortal, and it’s only when Marie gives her her son’s spirit, placing it in something solid, meaning-- with magic-- Lilith does have a chance to bring her son back, that instead of wanting to die, she decides to destroy Lucifer instead, as she has nothing to lose. Either, she destroys Lucifer and takes all her power back and gets her son back, or she fails and she dies. She essentially becomes a woman with nothing to lose, and they’re the most dangerous people, because there’s nothing to make them hesitate. As Lucifer learned in a very hard way. 

#this was essentially a frustrated rant #but it's also #random thoughts #observations #and #headcanons #it's all the things #i don't normally do tw but this is quite in depth so #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw rape

[samshogwarts]

🎃👻🎃 HALLOWEEN 2020 SUPRISE 2.0 🎃👻🎃

(pls ignore the tiktok logo on the left)

First of all - that's actually not the Video I was planning to cut. But since I have to stay the weekend at the hospital and not allowed to use my computer here, I have to chance my plans and have to use tiktok to cut at least a little video. Believe me, it broke my heart to use tiktok instead of my usual cutting program. And so the pictures are without the planned Effects, I am sorry :(. I planned to make a Hphm Halloween MC costume video. Every MC is another magical creatures, ghost or what ever. Hope you are OK that I use your MCs without asking 😅. And I will not finished the original Video because I want to finish the first chapter of my fan comic finally <~<.

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

MCs I used without asking 😅:

Elaiza Schuyler as the yellow rain kid from ES @annabelle-tanaka-official

It was your idea for the costume. I hope you are OK how I use it >~<

Arjun Singh as mumie @hogwarts9

I was searching for a macigal creature for Arjun and listened to old 90' series opening and "Mumies alive" appear. Does anyone knows the show? I loved them when I was a kid, so I decided to make Arjun a mumie. XD

Kyril Vasile @kyril-hphm / @kyril-simping as Red hood

Why does lolita clothes suits Kyril so good? It was so much fun to draw him in this dress. And the wolf's head too xD

Conor O'Donnell as Frankensteins monster @unfortunate-arrow I want to choose something special for Conor, but I didn't found anything what suits him well. But than I thought about classic "monster" and don't know why but I choose Frankenstein.

Sara O'Donnell - as a Doll @unfortunate-arrow

To be honest, Sara is like a doll in my mind, so it was easy for me. Dolls are scary but have most a sad background story. So I think it suits Sara. ^^;

Carewyn Cromwell as Banshee @carewyncromwell

I love the storys of Banshee. Especially the version of her amber cry if a member of her family will die soon. And what is also very important for a banshee? Her voice! So I thought the Banshee would suits Carey well.

Luna Silver as Vampire @lunasilvermorny

LUNA!!! We were talking about her "costume", so as you said I made her a vampire. And it suits her very well! And it was so much fun to draw her hair!

Helene Adler as Sucubbus @heleneplays

I want to draw Helen for so long and finally I did it! >~< And I instantly thought a Sucubbus would suits her! I even try to make her sexy (but I have no talent for this 😅)

Finn McGarry as Davy Jones @theguythatdraws

I am still in the hphm potc AU phase and I like the idea of Finn as Davy Jones. So I try my best to draw him! And let's be honest, Potc AU Samantha would make so much jokes because of his hand and face.

Angelo Lancaster as Angel of the Death @angellazull

Pls tell no one that I totally forgot his wings! >~< and I use your picture as inspiration but chance a few things, like his hair color so his picture will be not just white Grey and black. But it so much fun to draw Angelo! 😍

Tu Ling as Kitsune @wangxianforever000

Haaaarrrr~ finally I was able to draw Tu! I want to draw her for so long. Hehehehehehehehe. And Kitsune are one of my favorite magical creations and if I know right, she is actually a fox demon or am I wrong? 🤔

Night Rheia as Dementor @nightrhea-hphm

Also someone who told me which costume her mc would wear. First I made her skin with normal skin color, but.... I don't know it looks a bit boring because the special effects in the video are missed. But I hope you still like it.

Wendy Gordon as Selkie @drinkyoursoupbitch

Wendy!! 😍 It was clear for me to draw Wendy as a Nordic creature. And I like selkies very much. I know they are actually not evil, but I thought Selkies would suit Wendy and I try to gave her a unusual pose for me (and Whiskers xD)

Ethren Whitecross as Pyramid hat @hogwartsmysterystory

First of all - I know we never interact with each other and you don't know who I am, but Ethren is one of my favorite MC and your blog is for me one of the big three (the three blogs, why I start my blog) Q-Q but enough fangirling.

Did anyone played Silent Hill 2? I remember when I was a teenager and played the game the first time I screamed so much when pyramid hat appears and he was my nemesis for years xD and this my Frist try to draw a little more muscles *cough cough* hope you don't mind I used your MC.

Keira Jones as evil mermaid @hphm-brooke

Keiras hair as so much fun to draw! While I was drawing her I was asking myself if a mermaid need glasses? And if they do, how do mermaids that's? Anyway, I try to draw not a typical mermaid since there are fairy tales about mermaid where they are more evil and dangerous. And I like that more. A typical Ariel mermaid would be to normal.

Vixen Mcmahen as crazy clown @rosievixen

Aaaa good old horrors clowns! It was from the very beginning clearly for me to draw Vixen as a horror clown. When I start drawing she reminds me first to much as Harley Quinn, but I am happy with the result in the end. And her face expression Oo I am surprised by myself. Hope you like it too.

Danique Winter as the women in white @morningstarinwinter

The women in white is one of my favorite ghost. They are many different storys about her, but in the end she is alsway a woman who was betrayed. Personally, I like the version where she helps ppl if they get lost. And yeah... I thought it would suit Danique and it was very funny to draw her. I lobe to draw long hair! Hope you like it! *-*

And last but not least - Samantha O'Connell as Grimm Reaper. Yes, it suits her and her story. And I added a little Easter egg. The mask she is holding is her mask as a Ghost agent. The time were she was the most dangerous and able to bring pain and death to her enemies.

Still sad I can't upload the original planned videos with all original planned mc's. But my body says no. So well. I will make the best of it 🤷‍♀️.

Hope you guys like it. Will post the pictures in two extra posts.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts game #hphm jacobs sibling #hogwarts mystery mc #harry potter oc #samantha o'connell #hogwarts #other people's mcs #helene adler #finn mcgarry #Tu Ling #conor o'donnell #sara o’donnell #elaiza schuyler #angelo lancaster #kyril vasiley #Luna silver #Keira jones #carewyn cromwell #night rhea #wendy gordon #ethren whitecross #arjun singh #Danique Winter #vixen mcmahen #hphm halloween 2020 #hphm halloween

[lady-plantagenet]

Ship bingo: Anne Boleyn & Henry VIII (I know, I'm not the most original person in this site); and Eleanor Cobham & Humphrey of Gloucester

Hey hey sorry for answering this shipbingo so late hh. Hope you’ll still be interested in my odd and headcanon-y analyses. Since you requested 2 I will write shorter comments if ur ok with that :) x

Anne Boleyn & Henry VIII

‘I broke England from the Church yeah I really am that secksy’ or something along the lines is said by Anne’s character in Six: The Musical. I sorta resent that. I’m not very passionate about this ship nor do I take any ‘sides’, but I must admit I’m more partial to Catherine of Aragon and consider her to be Henry’s true love. The odd thing is, this is also cause a part of my feels like Anne was in some ways to good/evolved for him?? We all know the whole seductress Anne trope or poor set-up pawn Anne, we don’t know which are true but one thing we know for sure is that there was ‘pious outspoken religious reformer Anne’ and that’s what I am more interested in. My admiration grew 1000x when I realised she was heavily critical with where the desolution of the monastery funds were going - how they enriched ministers and lackeys of Henry as opposed to going towards schools. I say all this because my mental Anne Boleyn might be a bit different from most people’s and that will influence how I also see this ship.

I guess the above paragraph explains the ‘I’m picky about it part’, I hate anything that is major baby drama. Delicious and intrigued are oddly left out because I don’t really feel that myself though I understand why others would. It is perhaps because it’s such an overportrayed relationship and because by the time it became a thing Henry was already kind of obese I believe. Sue me, I like both my ship parties to be attractive XD. I would read fic for it just like I would read anything provided it is well written enough. I’m currently reading ‘Chained in War and Love’ by Lady Perserverence on AO3 (you know that one really famous fic in the Tudor fandom) which I suppose counts but since it’s a Francois I of France/Anne Boleyn AU I guess it doesn’t count (and I much prefer this pairing). This ship is one of those historical pairings where it’s hard to deny it was not romantic and sexual, one must remember that there must have been something about Anne in particular that attracted Henry and her educational background was unusually worldly for a woman of minor English nobility, given the fact that she could very well have been 32 (and age which is considered old for motherhood even by our times) by the time she married Henry simply put there must have been a romantic/sexual attraction beyond just her being fertile. She, herself, may have also had reason to feel attracted to him (despite his fatness) because he appears to have exuded the character of a Renaissance Prince which I feel she could have been drawn towards.

To be honest the ‘it’s complicated and unhealthily’ kind of speak for themselves. I feel like a part of the breakdown went beyond her not being able to hear a son because he does not seem to have properly tried like he did with Catherine of Aragon - the marriage was only three years long. I also feel like he was a bit too set in the past for her and she may have felt disillusioned with how he carried out the reformation. I also feel like Henry thought he would find a woman with Catherine’s brand of strength but with an ability to bear children, but despite both women having education in common Anne’s Protestant beliefs made her someone entirely different. Their feelings were strong but they clearly were not made for each other. With that said, theology fasincates me so to an extent I am more interested in the consequences (the reformation and how it changed the fabric of England) then even the ship itself - that is not to say the ship doesn’t interest me. And yes. I could/want to be convinced that this ship is interesting but if anyone wants me to get on board you will have to first throw off ‘seductress Anne’ or ‘poor maligned pawn Anne’. Only mercurial Henry and reformer Anne will do for me. With that said, I really wouldn’t mind the unrequited love trope thrown in there but with Anne accepting him only because Cromwell and co convince her that this is the only way England’s religion can change. I also liked the ‘Anne of One Thousand Days’ spin where it’s unrequited on her side and then turns unrequited on Henry’s side. Now that’s super tragic and would grab my attention. Overall, I like Anne Boleyn but I don’t ship them because I don’t think they were compatible, I don’t like Henry and I hate how the reformation was carried out and how the knock-on effect was the death of the Tudor figures I care the most about: Cardinal Fisher, Thomas More and Margaret Pole.

Eleanor Cobham & Humphrey of Gloucester

I love ships where both figures were described as intelligent by their contemporaries because there’s also a meeting of minds there. It also gives this partners in crime vibes which I really like. This connects to my whole ’delicious’, ‘romantic’, ‘best friends’ and ‘I’m intrigued’. A lot of fun things could be done with this ship and so I would read fic for it but I remain unpicky (except for , you know, prose as per usual). As it happens I also already read fic for this pairing and unless you are her, I would recommend @nuingiliath who writes loads for this couple and is the resident shipper - I believe this is her OTP. On Ao3 she is ‘heartofstanding’ she has plenty of stuff both on her tumblr and on that site so just follow the tags. Also all I know about these guys is from her pretty much.

The thing is, Eleanor Cobham is like Jane Shore for me, she brings out very weird feelings because I am very traditionalist and boring and hate my infidelities and tend to have an aversion towards mistresses. However, like Jane Shore, Eleanor Cobham appears to have had some virtues and was more than a pretty face (apparently Jacobia herself was quite dull and that’s one of the things that turned Humphrey off her but I’m not sure if that’s hearsay). So just like that, I don’t get an ‘ugh’ feeling like I would with people interested in the Bourbon mistresses in the 18th century or such because I much feel like it wasn’t that physical. This is where ‘softly’ comes, the age difference makes me imagine Humphrey as having that dad-aura Idk (and btw no I’m not pleading daddy issues at all - I feel like it quite undermines this couple), his incredible level of learning further feading into this wise persona but obviously his skirmishes with the administration give me an impression of this grand daring man as well. He seemed the picture of true aristocracy and in all the way he falters from those expectations (eg lack of martial talent) I also like to see. As I said, Eleanor also being described as intelligent makes me feel that she was at his level and while I am satisfied that the necromancy charges were shams it does indicate that she was considered bright enough by her contemporaries in order for such charges to be levelled in the first place. While it is true that the whole affair was targeting Humphrey, I really feel like Eleanor herself possessed (or at least was perceived by others as possessing) a certain dangerousness and this course of action was pursued by their rivals in order to kill two birds with one stone. After all, we have seen how easy treason charges can be conjured against magnates who though not technically speaking guilty have acted against the wrong faction eg Clarence’s case. With that I also put ‘best friends’ because I feel like like all those traits derived from the facts I’ve been privy to point to the fact that the two were friends as well as in love and attracted to each other. They really give me a partners-in-crime vibe and I’m always all for that. Not to mention I’m also a sucker of one part of the ship dying (preferably the woman) with the other following not late after or at least never living a fulfilled life as a widow-widower. It’s cruel but I love my doomed couples. So yeah, I ship it, I really do. I also have a great admiration for Humphrey as I have a soft-heart for scholarly people, I also admire how he was not blindly loyal and quite brazen. It’s a personality that intrigues me.

#🍷❤️ #ship bingo #don’t be shy anon #humphrey duke of gloucester #eleanor cobham #humphrey of gloucester #henry viii #anne boleyn x henry viii #anne boleyn

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Desperate Gal Pals of White Crest || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Cece hit a roadblock with their research on an exorcism, so they take a field trip.

CONTAINS: drug manipulation tw (magic poisoning), gun (not fired), 

“I know I literally can’t get tired, but if I see one more book handwave harm exorcisms away with ‘wooo dark magic’ and ‘oooh dangerous! Sacrifice!’ I am going keel over with exhaustion. You’ll have to call Regan for my autopsy and explain to my girlfriend that boredom and no helpful answers is the new hip cause of death.” Morgan flopped down the side of the couch, her head dangling over the edge. “Tell me you’ve got something to banish Puritain Carrie,” she groaned. “I need a win. Literally...any kind of win. A can of seltzer of a win.”

Cece was lying on her back on the ground, book in hand and avoiding reading it by listening to Morgan’s melodramatic self-eulogy. She at least knew how to spice up a story and make it more interesting. She made dying of boredom sound marginally interesting. The irony was not lost on Cece. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on me for the record. How am I supposed to talk at your funeral and make your death sound badass that way?” Cece eventually gave in, shutting the book and tossing it away from her in her own dramatic show of exacerbation. “Nothing. These books have lots about magic and yet a surprisingly lacking amount of ghosts. My coven really should have expanded their horizons a bit.” Cece stated, mostly to herself. She rolled over onto her stomach, finding Morgan’s eyes again and pushing herself up, “We need some new source material. There’s got to be somewhere around town with some decent exorcism knowledge, right?”

“You’ll have to make something up much cooler,” Morgan sighed. “Just don’t promise any of my fae friends to tell the truth about me and you’ll be good.” She looked over at the pile of books around them, new purchases on the diamond card Deirdre had gotten for her, and pulls from the Scribrary. She felt guilty about those the most, sneaking in and using Rio’s resources for something he was bound to hate. “We have to be looking in the wrong place. The wrong key-words, or the wrong sections in the library. You would think ‘most brutal harm exorcism’ would be a short dig, but…” She puffed air through her lips. “Apparently the powers that be think discretion is super ‘in.’ Tell me what you found. Let’s go over it again.”

“No worries there. I don’t like making promises to humans.” Cece laughed, thinking of any ideas she could to spice up Morgan’s imagined death and make it a bit more grandeur. She wondered how she could fit fireworks into the story. Maybe one of the daredevil car jumps through a flaming circle. No, this was all way too distracting when she was supposed to be focusing. She shook the thought away and reached for the notepad that she had used to take any notes that she found vaguely helpful. Emphasis on vague. “Nothing too useful. I found some old history on this former Scribe that studied exorcisms. John something. Sounded like a real bore. I got an autobiography by this Amanda Wallace chick who wrote about her haunted house and how she got rid of it. Not exactly sure how factual that one actually is. Basically, I have nothing but crap. You sure we can’t just call the ghostbusters in for this one?”

Morgan’s brow furrowed at the name Wallace. “Is that name from a comic book movie? It sounds familiar…” She turned herself right side up and crawled to Cece to read over her shoulder. She moved so fast, her focus was groggy, but the illustration on the page she was looking at definitely seemed familiar. “No, wait, that’s...fuck, that was in something I read. Not here but…” Morgan fumbled for her laptop and started digging through her browsing history. She looked sheepishly over at Cece, glad that she couldn’t blush. “...Don’t judge me, okay?” She mumbled. Buried under searches for pirated theory articles, halloween themed lingerie, and Buzzfeed quizzes for Which Character from Grey’s Anatomy Are You, was several rows of local blogs, niche social media groups, old news reports, and PDF access links. Morgan scrolled past them all to get to an access link to an article from the library. There was the same picture, Amanda Wallace and a few others. The caption read, Cromwell was mentored in his early years by the local Ghost Watchers Society. Pictured, left to right… The article was about a man named Ernie Cromwell. He was arrested, several times, for vandalism, arson, and public disturbance. He claimed he needed to in order to make the ghosts go away. He also escalated to a much more deadly life of crime after this, around  the period Roy ought to have been town. That’s why she’d been looking in the first place. “Hey, Cece?” She asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know if any of these people are alive, do you?”

“I hope you know that prefacing with that only makes me want to judge you that much more.” Cece perked up immediately, if she wasn’t interested in studying Morgan’s open tabs before, she was definitely interested now. Fortunately, it was so much better than what Cece had predicted. “Oh my god. This might be more embarrassing than if you just had like straight up porn in your search history. Which for the record, I’m in full support of.” Cece added in, finger gunning and winking in Morgan’s direction. “Please tell me you’re an Izzie too.” Cece tried focusing again once Morgan asked her a question about recognizing anyone. She scanned the page but shrugged after a long moment, “I wish I could be more useful. But most of my magic knowledge was before I got to town. I’ve been about as low key as I can manage since I’ve been to town.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the sex positivity, and so does my girlfriend. And, you know, hopefully she appreciates the spider web themed set I ended up buying. And I’ve taken way too many and no matter what I do, I’m solid 50% Izzie or Meredith. My dark and twisty ways defy simple categories.” She wiggled her brow, mouth curling into a grin, and turned back to the picture. “I swear I’ve seen these faces somewhere. And the names. You don’t remember any from the paper or…” Morgan took out her phone, scrolling furiously. “Oh. Mother of Earth! Oh, this is so weird!” She showed Cece an event page on the UMWC social media page. Two people stood next to a handmade poster advertising GhostWatch Parties. Ostensibly, it was a horror film club. But the names of the two faculty shown were Amanda Wallace and Leigh Cromwell. There was no accounting for coincidence, but it seemed pretty likely that there was a connection to Ernie. “They’re meeting tonight. We have to go, right? Scope things out, set up a time to talk better and see what they can offer, or ask if they have any exorcist finding tips! We’re going, right?”

“Anything for you, as usual.” Cece might not be Deirdre’s biggest fan, but she still wished for a killer sex life for the two. “You know? I can see it, honestly. I support it. Among the characters you could get, I think those are two of the better ones.” Morgan seemed sure that the faces would be familiar, so Cece did her best to study them again, but just ended up shrugging. “You think I read the paper?” She asked the woman curiously. Not a moment later and Morgan was poking the screen and then changing pages to find a social media page. From the college. Cece gasped overdramatically, “Right under your nose this whole time? Also, do you think this horror movie club accepts members that don’t go to the college? Actually never mind that’s not important right now.” Cece jumped up and found her bag, moving towards the coat closet to slip her jacket on. “Well obviously we have to go. What other choice do we have? Plus I need to find out if this club is even worth my time. Which is obviously like a side objective. Priority is the ghost thing for sure. Let’s go!”

The GhostWatchers of White Crest met at Professor Wallace’s ivy covered town house near campus. The gathering was small; only three cars littered the street beyond the driveway. Morgan parked them at the end of the street, positioned to make a quick and easy getaway. The bue-white light of a television illuminated one of the back rooms, bright enough to illuminate parts of the yard as Morgan approached. She knocked on the door gently, but found it already open. Inside was exactly what you would expect from a liberal arts professor. Stacks of papers, catalogues for bamboo kitchenware, and books bursting with post-it’s in every room. Morgan wrinkled her nose at the normalcy of it all. At least she kept a few decorative skull paperweights in the great room and kept the foyer clean.

“How do you think we should play this?” She asked in a whisper, lingering in the front hall, one eye on the back den where the movie, The Innocents, was still going on. “Is it rude if we snoop around first? Should we split up?” Somewhere, she thought, there had to be a private library.

“Wow this place is boring.” Cece yawned as the two slid in through the open door and studied the office that they found themselves in. “You’d think that someone obsessed with exorcisms might have a bit more personality.” She pushed aside a self help book lying on the desk and took a glance at her desk calendar, “She has scheduled times for lunch.” As if that was the most boring thing on the planet.

Either this woman was the worst occultist she had ever seen, or all of her more interesting things were hidden away somewhere. “It’s totally rude, but technically speaking she’s the one that left the door open. She should be more careful about her belongings. So let’s snoop.” Cece wasted no time moving to dig through her other belongings. Given how nonchalant the rest of the room was, Cece wasn’t convinced they were going to find anything too bizarre or helpful just sitting out in the open.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? They hired me because the fun department was empty,” Morgan teased. She watched her feet carefully as she tiptoed onto the plush carpet with her muddy leather oxfords. She hadn’t planned on playing hide and seek in some dusty mini-mansion when she’d left the house, so she was left cringing at every squeak the leather made on the floor and hoping against hope that everyone in the den was too engrossed in the movie to notice.

As luck would have it, the library was one room off from the den. Morgan pointed at it, giving Cece a look of, I don’t know if I got this. One foot, then the other. Could Cece get in there first.

In the den, someone yawned and got up, murmuring about refills. Morgan dropped to the floor, panic in her eyes. Was this the worst idea ever?

The library had to have something useful. If it was just filled with normal literature and more self help books, Cece was going to lose her mind. At least Morgan seemed pretty into the whole espionage thing, tiptoeing around the place and slipping through the door into the library as silently as a mouse. That swiftness and suave attitude seemed to dissipate when movement could be heard from farther in, someone getting up to get a refill. Morgan dropped immediately and Cece remained in the doorway, unsure what the best thing to do in this scenario was. Would the person asking even come this way? Cece crept back a few steps, peaking around to get just a moment’s glance of someone walking towards them. They would definitely see Morgan if something wasn’t done. Would these people be more interested in calling the cops or offing anyone in their way? Cece couldn’t be sure enough, so she figured her only option was to be a distraction of some sort. Back in the office, Cece found a paper weight on the desk and pushed it aside, sliding it off the desk with a loud crack against the floor. That ought to do some distracting.

Morgan heard the paperweight fall before she realized what Cece was doing. Her head whipped around, question marks sprouting all over her face. But whoever was heading her way turned the other direction to see the commotion, and Morgan was able to take her chance. Hopefully Cece wouldn’t be so far behind.

The library was the same as the rest of the house, expected to the point of comical. There were shelves of matching leatherbound British novels, another set of American ones, a whole row of paperbacks and theory that were almost certainly just for posturing, and… who lived like this? Who actually worked here? This was a magazine-style library. Which meant-- “Fuck.” Morgan covered her mouth and flinched. Too loud. Right.

She started peeking behind books, looking for hidden volumes, then the large desk centered at the back of the room. No one really had secret compartment doors, at least not here, the house was too small but-- Morgan kicked back the rug that covered the floor. Cut into the pale hardwood was a heavy door, older and darker, with a black handle that looked to be iron. She peeked her head out, searching for Cece to get her over here, quickly, before anyone realized how reckless they were being in a stranger’s house.

The door was well-oiled and rose silently at Morgan’s tug, and inside-- “Yes!” Beams of light from the other room flashed on. The shadows in the library vanished. It was time to hurry.

Cece ducked behind the desk to avoid whoever was coming towards her. She had successfully distracted the man from discovering Morgan but hadn’t quite thought through the fact that the man would now be coming towards the source of the noise that Cece had caused. Cece began rifling through her purse quickly, pulling a bin of powder free and cupping some into the palm of her hand. Once the footsteps finally became close enough, Cece popped up from behind the counter. “Hi there.”

The man jumped before settling on a confused expression, “Who are you?” He asked, more curious than angry. Probably unsure if Cece was supposed to be there in the first place. “Uh-” Cece began, trying for a long moment to think of an excuse for too long before finally giving up, “I can’t think of a good excuse” She shrugged before pulling her hand up and opening her palm, blowing and sending the powder directly into his face. He stumbled backwards and Cece jumped forward, grabbing onto his shirt and helping direct his fall into the chair by the desk. She patted him softly. Better to get some rest right there.

She slipped across the floor until she found Morgan and then crawled over to her, “For the record I didn’t sign up for this” Cece whispered at her, eyeing the new door that she had discovered. Before hearing more voices. “Welp, after you!”

Morgan’s muscles were already clenched with confusion and unspoken questions. “Sign up for what?” She hissed. “You said we should snoop! Nothing bad has happened, right? And look at all the spooky books down there!” She shined the flashlight on her phone down the ladder, showing tables full of messy, half open books, arcane circles etched on leather, and iron chimes dangling from the ceiling. “Oh, yes, this is the jackpot.”

“Is it now?” A voice called behind them.

Morgan barely suppressed a squeal as Amanda Wallace filled in the doorway. Her straw-white hair seemed to puff up out of sheer rage. “I don’t remember receiving your RSVP, Professor Beck,” she said stiffly. “May I ask what you are doing in my library, opening my trap door?” A smaller, slightly younger head popped up over Amanda’s shoulder and murmured that she’d see the students out. Leigh Cromwell, probably. Guess they weren’t too late for the party after all.

“Hey, Amanda--!” Morgan drew out the words longer, as if a few more syllables in Amanda would help smooth things over, or give her a better idea about what to do next.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Amanda snapped, bristling with a bitter frown. Downstairs, now.” She pointed into the dimly lit trapdoor room, and her look did not suggest that she was entertaining counterarguments at the moment.

“Ummm” Cece considered what may or may not be considered to be bad in Morgan’s mind. And depending on that, whether or not she wanted to share that with Morgan. Putting a man to sleep was hardly that bad, right? She didn’t hurt the man. He would wake up and at worst his memory would be a bit foggy and maybe have some nausea. Nothing that would last more than a week. “Define bad.”

Morgan was right, this was a jackpot. The space was different from the rest of the house. It didn’t look like the end result of an HGTV makeover, for starters. It wasn’t basic or expected. This room was hidden away and it was used. This woman that the two were spying on definitely used this room.

Speaking of the woman they were spying on. Apparently they had been discovered. Cece awkwardly watched  the exchange. Apparently the two were super close work colleagues. “If there was no RSVP, does that mean she wasn’t supposed to bring a plus one?” Cece grinned slightly, completely ignored by the woman and instead following behind Morgan as the two were led away from the space they had just found.

Morgan backed down into the room, feeling, all of a sudden, that she should have told more people where she was going. Of course, she’d told Deirdre they had a lead, but if she were to drop a pin right now, would Deirdre know what to do with it? Remmy might, but the part where she had to explain what she was doing here might not lead to the best of conversations. But, fortunately, there weren’t any high tech keypads standing in their way of getting out. Just one seriously perturbed old woman.

Morgan made her way over to where the stacks of books were the largest and the shelves were packed to bursting. She looked for sigils, icons, anything recognizable. No one ever labeled ‘find harm here,’ but there were unavoidable markers if you knew how to look for them.

“I should report you to the police, for trespassing,” Amanda snapped. “And I could do much worse. But I would like to know first, Professor Beck, what you are doing in my trapdoor of all things. Do you have no respect for others?”

“On the contrary--” Morgan said carefully, flashing Cece big ‘what do we do?’ eyes, “I have the utmost respect for you and your interests.” She backed away until she could back no further. “The interests you keep a secret, especially. I think I might have something that’s of interest to your attention. A ghost something that is, let’s say, too good for mercy.” She reached out for one of the tomes, a leatherbound journal, by the look of it. Not as old as it was pretending to be, and bursting with pasted-in clips and notes.

“Not so fast.” She took out a little pearl handled pistol, gold and shiny, like something out of Agatha Christie. She cocked the safety with a slow, deliberate click. “That’s sensitive material, Professor. Access has to be earned. Tell me the truth, do what I say, and maybe we’ll see about it.”

The two hadn’t found themselves in an ideal situation, Cece was willing to admit that much. The woman that had discovered them hardly seemed especially dangerous. She was a college professor, taller than Cece was but that was hardly an impressive feat. The only thing she looked capable of seriously harming was a student’s grade point average. Still, the woman had enough to hide that she kept it hidden beneath the library, and she really didn’t like the intrusion by her colleague.

Morgan attempted to sweet talk her way out of it. Honestly, Morgan came across as such a pleasant person that Cece probably would have laughed it off if she had found the woman trespassing in her own home. Then again, maybe that didn’t count when Morgan had already previously lived with her. When Morgan reached for a book, hopefully one that Morgan deemed important, Amanda acted with an elevated decree of hostility. Looked like a bingo to Cece. The woman pulled out a small handgun, pointing it at Morgan but still eyeing Cece every now and again. She didn’t show much interest in Cece at all, which may have been more a mistake than anything else. “Your terms and conditions don’t sound all that appealing.” Cece called to her, straightening her back to give herself the appearance of being taller. She wasn’t sure that it worked. “Don’t get me wrong. You have the upper hand here. We’re totally up to no good. But don’t you have a door number three option?”

The woman finally looked Cece over. It had probably been the first time that she had offered her anymore than a passing glance, “I don’t even know who you are. This doesn’t concern you in the slightest.” She turned away from Cece again, but irritation seemed evident. Cece slowly dug into her purse again. She knew she had something else useful in there it was just a matter of rifling around until she found out. Once she did, she popped the lid off and dipped her fingers into it. “I just wanted to give you the option of rethinking your offer. Morgan and I have places to be. Let us go now and we can all enjoy the rest of our nights in peace.”

This time the woman finally turned the gun away from Morgan and towards Cece, at the same time that Cece rose up her hand and grabbed onto the woman’s wrist. “Have you ever heard of curare?” Cece asked the woman, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Though nothing apparent was happening, the woman hadn’t yet pulled the trigger and instead looked silently at Cece. “Some hunting tribes use it to paralyze prey. Normally, it doesn’t have a lot of effect on humans if ingested orally or through the skin.” By the woman’s expression, it was clear the effects had started to take effect now, “But with a bit of alchemy, it can be altered. All of a sudden, it just takes a tiny bit rubbed against the skin to get into the blood system. As Amanda began to fall back, Cece grabbed onto the gun, letting it slip from the woman’s hands as she crashed against the ground. “You should be able to talk still, it might just be a little mumbled. So try to speak up.”

Cece set the gun against the shelf and crossed her arms, “You got any questions for her?” she asked Morgan. Cece wasn’t sure this counted as life or death exactly, but the gun hadn’t been entirely promising. At this rate, Cece knew that she’d have to do something at the end to make sure that Amanda didn’t hold an unfriendly grudge against the two of them. Cece had gone this long, but now in the span of just a few weeks she would be whipping out the memory spell twice. Yikes. “Spare no details, something tells me that Amanda’s memory of the night might end up a bit fuzzy anyways.”

Morgan was scurrying for Cece and wishing zombies had super speed when it happened. She couldn’t let Cece get hurt and didn’t Cece know she was basically bullet-proof? Not one more friend, not one more life she cared about was going down because of-- and then Amanda’s face was going slack and she was sinking to the floor, and Cece was giving a pretty impressive speech of her own. “Holy shit,” Morgan whispered, suddenly feeling a little woozy with shock. Then, as it settled, “You...are so amazing, Cece!” She ran over and gave her a hug, ecstatic with relief. “Okay, so, one of your proteges was arrested for what sounded like some serious supernatural damage, and he said he had to get the ghosts. So I’m thinking you know a lot about exorcisms, maybe harm exorcisms, specifically?”

Amanda made some unintelligible noises that sounded aggravated enough to mean ‘yes’ to Morgan.

“Great! So, where would I find those? Is it here? Or--here? Or--” At the sound more throaty, aggravated groaning, Morgan knew she was right on the money. She hauled out everything from the self she could carry and started looking. “Woah, Nelly, some of these pages are torn from other volumes.” Morgan peered over the desk at Amanda on the floor. “Have you been defacing historical archives? That’s not very polite, you know. I wonder what would happen if I reported some of these original books as damaged and gave your name? That might be a bummer for research funding and future archive access, right?” Satisfied with her fun, she started flipping through, grateful that even though Amanda was a thief, she was at least an organized one. There was a handy table of contents and index between each hodge podge volume, and by some topics there was a reference number that seemed to correspond to a file, probably in the cabinet at the other end of the room.

Amanda made another slurry attempt at speech.

Morgan’s face crinkled. “French Revolution? Did you hear French Revolution?” She gave Cece a look to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood and started checking dates throughout her haul. Sure enough, there was a hefty volume with some emphasis on the 18th century and quite a few notes in French and English as she started flipping through. “Cece, come look at this,” she said. “I think this… I think I found something! What do these ingredients look like to you?”

If Cece had any worries that Morgan might think she had taken things too far, those fears were immediately quelled when Morgan launched into a hug. Cece hugged back, keeping her finger away from any of Morgan’s skin, “I don’t think this would work on zombies, but better not take the chance.” Considering the rest of the abilities that Morgan had now that she was undead, Cece wasn’t convinced it would have paralyzed her the way it had Amanda. If it did, the fast healing probably would have fixed her pretty quickly. But better to avoid the situation regardless. “But that was nothing. Didn’t want her messing up one of our pretty faces.”

Morgan was far better at searching and researching than Cece was. The extent of Cece’s reading had gone into her plans to get away from the coven. Since then, the books she had stolen and brought with her mostly stayed hidden in the floorboards of her closet. Something for a rainy day, if it ever came. For the most part, Cece scanned the shelves as Morgan actually talked to the woman and searched for something that was useful to her.

Cece hadn’t heard French Revolution at first, but hearing Morgan question it made Cece laugh and clap for Morgan’s better hearing skills, “You know I thought I heard bitch contusion but that makes way more sense.” Morgan flipped through a volume and called Cece over to look at something, but the symbols on the page weren’t like anything Cece had worked with before. “Yikes.” Cece started, trying to look for smaller details and anything that did look familiar, “I can pick out a few things. I see some containment symbols. Probably used to keep something trapped. But nothing that I’ve worked with before.”

“Me either,” Morgan admitted, “But that--” she pointed to the word, “Is definitely French for spirit, and some of these ingredients look like they’re obeying sympathetic principles for inflicting pain. I’m gonna need a dictionary or three to figure some of this out, and you know, an expert, but you saw the containment sigil too, right!” She snapped the book shut and held it close to her chest, her eyes shining with relief. “I think this is it, Cece. I think this is--” Morgan was lost for words and only smiled, glowing with gratitude for her friend. “This is the key to everything I’ve been looking for.”

“Well I know a guy if you need a French interpreter.” Cece stated nonchalantly, “Can’t promise he won’t be grumpy about it though.” Cece couldn’t keep an easy grasp on who in town knew who, but it seemed like a safe bet that Morgan and Kaden were acquainted. “Fuck yeah! Former roomies strike again!” Cece called out triumphantly, raising her hand for a high five. Once the two were done celebrating, Cece remembered that they had company. Cece spun around to their host for the night and clapped her hands together, “Amanda. You’ve just been so welcoming tonight, truly. We had a great time. We’re going to wrap up and then I promise it’ll be like we were never even here.” Cece scooted towards her and knelt down towards the woman. “Are we done here Morgan?”

Morgan joined Cece beside her colleague, still light on her feet with victory and beaming with pride in her friend. “We do make pretty good partners in crime if I say so myself,” she said. “And, you know, aside from, hmm---” She reached back over to the desk and took a couple more books. “These. Just for good measure. And fun. Trespassing is rude, Professor Wallace, but pulling guns on your colleagues is far worse.” She nodded at Cece to work her magic. They’d gotten what they came for and then some.

“This probably won’t hurt,” Cece began, pressing her fingers against Amanda’s temple, “Or if it does you won’t remember it. Which is basically the same thing.” Amanda’s eyes were frantic at first, darting back and forth almost definitely trying to will her body to move. But soon they settled, floating shut as Cece dove into her memories to pluck them free. She figured the last half hour or so would do the trick. The woman would be left with a lot of blurry portions on the night, undoubtedly waking up in this room to wonder how she had gotten here. But those were hardly Cece’s concerns. She made sure to go back far enough to when Amanda started suspecting someone was here. Once Cece was done, she left Amanda on the floor and stood up, “She should be waking up soon. She should be able to move shortly after. If you have what we need, we should get out of here.” Cece suggested, heading towards the exit of the room before snapping and swinging back towards her, “Actually, now is probably the best time to mention that there may be another person that conveniently fell asleep in the office. We may want to stop by on our way out and wipe him too. Just to be safe.”

Morgan stopped halfway on the stairs they came down in just to gape at Cece in awe. “Remind me to never underestimate you for the rest of your days. And maybe bring you up on my list of people to call next time I need help with the forces of darkness. You’re a dangerous lady, Cece Bishop…” She gave Cece a chivalrous hand out of the cellar, grinning in the evening light. “But, then again, so am I sometimes.”

#wr cece #wr chatzy #wr cece chatzy #desperate gal pals of white crest #drug manipulation tw #wickedswriting

[carewyncromwell]

[Ficlet] Gonna Hit Rewind

Hi guys! So this is a little drabble inspired by a prompt by my friend @drinkyoursoupbitch​, where I show what my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, was up to during a certain scene in the Harry Potter series! 

Before we begin, just a couple of notes --

Post-Hogwarts, Carewyn becomes a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- you can read more about her life as an adult here, if you’d like! When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, Carey-Bear doesn’t formally join, instead providing covert assistance while staying autonomous from Dumbledore (who she doesn’t really like as a person) and looking “subservient” to Fudge’s wishes. Later on, this becomes very useful after the Death Eaters take over the Ministry in 1997: when the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Carewyn actually helps take back the Ministry by placing Umbridge under citizen’s arrest and temporarily taking charge until Kingsley Shacklebolt is officially appointed Minister. Carewyn’s outfit in the sketch enclosed below is inspired by this design. Musical accompaniment for this ficlet were “Leave Me Alone” by Michael Jackson (for Carewyn’s conversation with that...certain family member in the aforementioned sketch) and “Turn Back Time” by Derivakat (which inspired the title of this drabble!). And in regards to Carewyn’s negative attitude toward Time Turners...that is 110% my mother talking. When we read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child together, she absolutely hated that it involved time travel, as she found the whole idea ridiculously confusing and illogical. (The whole climax of Prisoner of Azkaban was even her least favorite aspect of the original Potter books. 😂)

Hope you enjoy -- and much love, Soup dear! xoxo

x~x~x~x

“Down here, down here,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

“Courtroom…Ten…I think…we’re nearly … yes.”

As Arthur Weasley rushed down the hall toward Courtroom Ten, he was unaware that in Courtroom Seven, the door of which was left slightly ajar, Carewyn Cromwell was speaking to her estranged uncle, the new head of the Cromwell Clan, at that very moment, nor that their conversation would ultimately determine Harry’s fate in that courtroom happening just three doors down. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Blaise, and you know that full well.”

“I merely wished to speak with the Minister, little Winnie -- you are aware of how much our family still supports the Ministry and, by extension, your career, are you not?”

Carewyn fixed Blaise with a very cold blue eye. “And I suppose Lucius Malfoy speaking with the Minister down here mere moments ago had nothing to do with you making an unscheduled visit?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrows, his identically colored and shaped eyes narrowing under them.

“I can sense you trying to enter my mind, Winnie,” he said very softly, his eyes rippling like light blue flames despite the hardness of his face. “It won’t work. You couldn’t reach my thoughts when you were a girl, and you can’t reach them now.”

His voice became cooler, to the point of sounding condescending. 

“Whatever questions you have, you know your uncle would be more than willing to answer them, if you merely ask nicely.”

‘Answer’ -- ha! Carewyn thought to herself scornfully. Lie your face off, more like. But even so...if I’m going to get what I need, I need to keep him talking...

Carewyn went very quiet, considering Blaise carefully and her next words even more so. 

“...Are you or are you not associating with Lucius Malfoy?” she asked softly.

“You might recall that he and Father were business associates back in the day.”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m asking. Or have you forgotten where Grandfather’s activities sentenced him -- where they sentenced you, until you were able to bribe the Minister to reduce the rest of your family’s sentences?”

“Our family, little Winnie,” Blaise corrected her, a notable, fiery edge to his voice.

You all may be related to me by blood, but you are not my family, Carewyn thought fiercely, but she once again bit her tongue. If she provoked his temper the way she was tempted to, he’d be less likely to talk to her. 

When she didn’t respond, Blaise continued. 

“Lucius Malfoy has always had a working relationship with the Cromwell Clan. It’s only natural that we speak from time to time, as two patriarchs of prominent magical families.”

“Magical families with certain reputations, you mean,” Carewyn said very coolly. 

“Cornelius Fudge thinks very highly of Lucius Malfoy.”

“And of you, thanks to your impressive acting. But that doesn’t extend to everyone else, and you know it.”

“Of course,” said Blaise with a very cool smirk. “That’s something we have in common, isn’t it, Winnie? Putting on a charming face to get what we want, and not caring who hates us for it?”

Carewyn didn’t care enough to argue this point -- she’d already had this sort of discussion with Rakepick several times back in the day, and she knew that it meant Blaise was not only trying to divert the conversation, but also was absolutely full of it. 

You’re acting like this fact makes us just as bad as each other, Blaise, but it doesn’t. Even if we have some similarities in our methods, that does not make us the same. I’ve never terrorized people to try to advance myself. I’ve never manipulated or forced anyone to join a criminal organization. I’ve never masqueraded as my nephew in order to try to manipulate my niece into selling her soul and her freedom just to save him. However much I’m not perfect, I’m head-and-shoulders above you, when it comes to the moral high ground.

But honestly, there was no point in arguing with people like Blaise. It wasn’t like she’d ever convince him that everything he thought was wrong -- that Muggles weren’t inferior, Charles Cromwell was an abusive monster, and everything he and the Cromwell Clan did to try to get Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane back under their control was reprehensible rather than justified -- and she didn’t feel enough passion to try. Especially not when there were more important things happening at that very moment...

Harry would be in the courtroom by now. She had to hurry.

Although Carewyn tried to keep her face stoic, her brain was working very fast. Her eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall of the courtroom where the Wizengamot benches were lined up.

“...Look,” she said slowly, her voice becoming a little softer, “my Legilimency has become very sensitive, in this line of work. It allows me to read people’s intentions and feelings very quickly, even when I’m not actively trying to. And Lucius Malfoy...he doesn’t see you as an equal, but as a pawn.”

Blaise’s eyebrows came down over his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

“You and the rest of the Cromwell Clan only got out of Azkaban because you were able to appeal to Fudge,” said Carewyn, “but if you’re associating with the wrong people, that could very quickly sour. Your position will become uncertain again, and you won’t be able to protect them -- especially if Fudge gets the kind of control over the Wizengamot that he wants...where charges and judgments are laid down based on favoritism more than legality. We’re already seeing it with how Fudge is now treating Dumbledore and Potter, after how much he always sucked up to them. End up outside of Fudge’s good graces, as they did, and the same might befall you. I realize that you and Malfoy...”

Are Muggle-hating bigots.

“...have similar politics,” she said at last very stiffly, “...but Lucius Malfoy’s politics are far more extreme than yours, and although the courts decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prove his methods were also...we both know that’s also true. If he falls, he will drag you down with him -- and if you take the fall for his actions, he won’t lift a finger to help you.”

Carewyn forced herself to look Blaise in the eye. 

“Grandfather’s dealings with R got you all in enough trouble. You bought yourself and the rest of...our family a second chance -- something many others did not get. Are you sure you want to endanger that?”

Blaise considered Carewyn very carefully as she spoke, his blue eyes boring into hers critically. By the end, they’d actually widened.

“...Are you actually expressing concern for us, Winnie?” he asked very lowly. 

Carewyn scoffed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise -- I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled.”

Her blue eyes became a bit more solemn. 

“But truthfully...I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors...they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people.”

Her expression darkened.  

“...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Something confused and almost disgusted rippled over Blaise’s face, making his nose wrinkle.

“Ugh -- and here I’d thought you’d actually weeded out that weakness in your heart...”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly, but she didn’t reply. The two stared each other down for a moment, before Blaise finally exhaled.

“Very well, Winnie -- you want to know why I’m down here?”

He reached into his scarlet robes and pulled out a gold chain, on the end of which dangled a tiny gold hourglass. 

A Time Turner. 

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon it. 

“Lucius Malfoy has expressed quite a bit of interest in my old department, when we’ve spoken,” murmured Blaise. “One sub-section in particular -- one where records of magical predictions are kept.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Prophecies?”

“They are truly a fascinating thing,” said Blaise, his voice sounding rather airy. “So much value is placed on them -- too much, one could argue...just as one puts too much value on all attempts at ‘future sight.’ Alas, the section of my old department that Malfoy was interested in was not my area of expertise -- my area was in the study of Time, specifically backwards-facing. We did occasionally dip into the study of forward-facing time magic, but more in the sphere of inevitabilities -- things that evolve naturally in nature, every season -- not human affairs. Unfortunately when I was there, there was an employee monitoring the perimeter of the section I meant to enter -- I couldn’t have explored further even if I’d wanted to.”

“So Malfoy wanted you to stop by your old desk and pick up something that might help him or someone else enter the Department of Mysteries?” Carewyn asked. “Why?”

Blaise shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And yet you have a suspicion as to why?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed upon Carewyn’s face, not angrily, but almost darkly. 

“I may no longer work for the Department of Mysteries, Winnie, but I cannot discuss the more classified branches of their work too deeply. That is part of the Vow I made when I first joined the Department -- it forces me to speak in hypotheticals and vague descriptions more than specific details. But I fear no random stooge using this tool to try to enter my old department, whether Malfoy or otherwise. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “I would frankly love to see them try.”

He ignored Carewyn’s critical, confused expression and pressed on more seriously. 

“You’re not a stupid girl, Winnie. I know you know what’s really going on, under the surface. Me offering assistance to Lucius Malfoy early on is merely how I intend to earn enough favor to keep my family safe, should the worst happen.”

“And what is that?” asked Carewyn.

Blaise cocked his eyebrows again. “Ask your mother. She remembers the First Wizarding War just as well as I do -- how it all started before.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Blaise.”

Carewyn speaking his name and sharply grabbing his arm holding the Time Turner made him stop. 

“If you wish to provide Lucius Malfoy useful information,” she said lowly, “you can tell him that that employee was not there by accident.”

Blaise looked back over his shoulder, startled. Carewyn closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the intense nausea rippling over her. 

“He’s there to make sure Malfoy’s superior can’t reach what he wants,” she murmured. “There are many more, just like him, all with the same goal. It doesn’t matter when you go there -- there will always be someone there who will keep him away from what he wants.”

Blaise stared at Carewyn, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. 

“...Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. 

Carewyn swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I haven’t worked with time magic like you have...but people aren’t supposed to be in two places at once. That I do know. A lot of problems have been caused by people trying to mess with time. Mum told me that once in the 19th century, a whole bunch of people’s lives were erased out of existence, all because someone messed around with a Time Turner...”

“Ah, yes, Eloise Mintumble,” said Blaise, sounding as darkly amused as a bully might upon seeing one of their usual targets wearing a particularly obnoxious dress. “Tried to go back more than a few hours and ended up changing things so dramatically that she both erased 25 people out of existence and aged her body five centuries and died upon return trip. A rather fascinating case study.”

“You’re disgusting,” Carewyn said coldly. But she got back to the task at hand, her voice hardening. “Even if Malfoy couldn’t get what his master wants from the Department of Mysteries with that Time Turner, he could still do irreparable damage with it. If all Malfoy needs is assistance, to believe that you’re helping him and for you to earn enough esteem that the Cromwell Clan stays safe...then give him the intelligence I’ve given you. Don’t give him that Time Turner.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a rather condescending smirk. “Why? Because it’s wrong, little Winnie? Because it’s illegal and immoral, and ‘not the right thing to do?’”

“I’m not foolish enough to appeal to you with morality, Blaise -- I know you don’t have any,” spat Carewyn. “I’m asking you not to do it for your own self-preservation. For the Clan’s. ...For your family’s.”

Blaise’s smirk actually slid off his face. Carewyn held his gaze as best as she could, even with how ill she felt. 

“I may not be one of those who takes turns standing watch in your old department,” Carewyn said very softly, “but Jacob is.”

Blaise’s face went rather white, and Carewyn knew she’d struck a cord. For as cruel, selfish, and immoral of a person as Blaise was, he still saw his family -- all of it -- like his personal belongings. And he “took care” of his belongings. He wanted complete control over them and, like Charles before him, he never respected them as people, nurtured them, or gave them any freedom...but Blaise didn’t want anyone touching “his things.”

The older man’s jaw clenched as a rather dark glint flashed through his eyes.

“...I see.”

His teeth still bared, he extended the hand holding the Time Turner’s gold chain and, very slowly, lowered it into Carewyn’s hand. 

Carewyn’s eyes softened in relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaise exhaled heatedly through his nose.

“Jacob always was a fool,” he growled, his voice full of resentment. “Risking his life for people like that Muggle filth who abandoned you and your mother -- ”

“Better than selling his soul and freedom to serve the person who locked my mother and all of you up like prisoners,” Carewyn shot back rather coolly.

Blaise’s eyes flashed angrily. “You will not speak ill of your grandfather, Winnie! Everything he ever did in his life was for us, including you, your brother, and your mother, and I will not have you forgetting that!”

“Crow that lie as much as you want -- it won’t ever make it true.”

Blaise seethed as Carewyn pocketed the Time Turner in her robes. Slowly, his temper cooled enough that his lips spread back out into a rather vindictive smirk.

“For the record, Winnie...Time moves in a loop. If Lucius Malfoy were to use the Time Turner after I give it to him a half-hour from now, the effects would’ve already been felt by us by now. We would have heard about someone having broken into the Department of Mysteries before our conversation even started. The fact that we are not hearing that means that he never receives the Time Turner from me. So, in fact, it was already clear that I would give you the Time Turner before I actually did -- ”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Carewyn said tiredly. Just listening to Blaise wax on was giving her a headache. “I don’t even want to try unpacking all that time travel rubbish. All I care about is that Malfoy and his ilk can’t try to mess with time, now or ever.”

She turned on her heel and strode for the slightly ajar door. Pushing it further open, she then looked back over her shoulder at Blaise. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Stay out of trouble, or I will not hesitate to prosecute you.”

Blaise’s eyes were very cold even around his smirk. “If there’s anyone who should be warned to stay out of trouble, it’s you, Winnie. I’m not the only one who’s aligned themselves with people who could drag them down, if they fall.”

“Perhaps,” said Carewyn mildly. “But my friends will catch me if I fall, just as they have before. Just like I always catch them. That makes all the difference.”

She walked away, her heels clapping against the black tiled floor as she strode to the end of the hall, listening at the door of Courtroom Ten. She could hear several voices talking inside -- after a moment, she recognized two as Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge. 

“...certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t -- ”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard! The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet -- ”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said a very misty, serene voice from inside the Courtroom.

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed, even as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.

Dumbledore. He’d made it in time. 

Exhaling heavily, Carewyn quickly turned back around and walked briskly back down the hallway, back upstairs toward her office. On the way, she walked by Blaise, who was now deep in quiet conversation with Lucius Malfoy, and Carewyn and Malfoy coldly stared each other down as she passed.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn hated keeping the Time Turner in her desk. She wanted to be rid of the thing immediately, but she knew she had to be patient. 

Around 11:00, just before lunchtime, Carewyn asked to borrow a Dungbomb from Tonks and covertly dropped off it just outside the Auror Department on her way back to her tiny office. The resulting smell resulted in the entire floor clearing out, until someone could deal with the smell. Carewyn herself, however, stayed in her office and powered through, spraying some Muggle air freshener to try to mask the smell. 

I forgot how much I hate Dungbombs, Carewyn thought dully. Oh well...desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Keeping the files on a case she was working on open on either side of her, Carewyn read through them every-so-often as she pecked away at a letter she had to write. This letter had to be concise and to the point, if its recipient was going to know it was safe and exactly what she had to do, to help keep Harry Potter from getting unjustly expelled. 

Right on time, three hours after Harry’s hearing, Carewyn’s Legilimency picked up the feeling that someone was approaching her office. A moment later, there was a knock on her door. 

The ginger-haired lawyer exhaled heavily, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“Come in,” she said. 

Although she kept her voice level, she already felt a headache coming on. She knew who was on the other side of that door -- and sure enough, when it opened, in came tall, silver-bearded Albus Dumbledore, dressed in long midnight-blue robes. 

Carewyn’s eyes hardened as the Hogwarts Headmaster closed the door behind him.

“Hello, Carewyn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. 

“You got my message from Tonks, then?” Carewyn asked. 

“To come straight to your office as soon as I arrived, but to not let anyone see me entering? Yes. Though I daresay the evacuation of this floor thanks to the smell of Dungbombs helped with that considerably,” said Dumbledore, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “I presume it has something to do with why some members of the Wizengamot were asking what I was doing back here so soon, and why Cornelius looked even more sour at my presence than usual.”

Carewyn’s face was twisted in a deep frown as she finally took the Time Turner out of the drawer and put it on top of her desk. 

“The time and place of Harry’s hearing was changed three hours ago, with no notice,” she said stridently. “The hearing originally scheduled for 11 o’clock instead was moved to 8 o’clock at 7:58 this morning. The letter was sent by owl to Privet Drive at 7:59, right before a second letter informing Harry that because he didn’t show up for his hearing, he was presumed guilty and therefore expelled from Hogwarts. Both letters arrived at 8:52. The Order wasn’t informed of the change until a little after 9, but was also informed by Arthur Weasley that you’d had the matter well in hand and had arrived miraculously early.”

“And so they felt no need to send me any post regarding the matter,” presumed Dumbledore with a dewy smile. “But in order for all of that to have happened, I will have to go back and ensure it does happen -- isn’t that so?”

Carewyn nodded curtly as she handed the Time Turner and a sealed envelope to Dumbledore. 

“Three turns back should be enough -- you don’t want to risk changing too much, by arriving too early, and I have a closed-door meeting with Chester Davies prior to that. Give this letter to me as soon as you arrive in the past. As soon as she...escorts you out, head straight for Courtroom Ten. You should arrive just after Harry does -- it shouldn’t raise as much suspicion if you make it to the courtroom after Harry, since he was already in Arthur’s office when he first received word of the change...”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with some mischief. “Clever as always, Carewyn, my dear. You do the Order very proud.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not doing this for you or your ‘Order,’ Dumbledore, as you know full well. Jacob was completely at R’s mercy after he was expelled from Hogwarts, and I don’t want to even think about where Potter might end up, if the same thing happened to him. And if Jacob’s guarding something in the Department of Mysteries, I don’t want to make it any easier for You-Know-Who and his goons to get the drop on him.”

Dumbledore’s calm didn’t shift, though his eyes did turn a bit more solemn. “And as always, Carewyn, your cleverness is only rivaled by your caring for others.” 

Rising to his feet, the Headmaster tucked the envelope inside his robes and then picked up the Time Turner. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerily, “or, should I say, ‘I will have seen you?’”

And with three turns, he’d disappeared.

Carewyn gave an exhausted, groan-like sigh.

“I hate Time Turners,” she muttered to herself.

x~x~x~x

When Dumbledore appeared in Carewyn’s office out of the blue at 8 o’clock that morning, the ginger-haired lawyer reacted with a lot of irritation and suspicion. Those feelings weren’t helped when Dumbledore handed her the letter addressed to her, and yet written in a hand identical to hers.

Carewyn,

First of all, yes, I know you recognize this handwriting. This isn’t a trick -- it’s just the work of a Time Turner: specifically the one Dumbledore’s holding. On that note, ask him to hand it over and then smash it. We have more than enough problems in the here and now: no sense in adding more time travel rubbish to the pile. 

Now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get to business --

The time and place of Harry’s hearing was moved just a minute ago. It now starts at 8 o’clock in the morning in Courtroom Ten. Don’t worry, Arthur’s already been notified and is ferrying Harry as we speak, but Dumbledore needs to get down there right now. Kick him out of your office, nice and loudly -- there are people outside who could overhear, and you don’t want anyone to think you and Dumbledore are on good terms. Which, fortunately, you’re not. 

Now that Dumbledore’s out of your hair, let’s go over what you need to do -- 

Blaise has sneaked into the Ministry, specifically the bottommost floor near the Department of Mysteries, on Lucius Malfoy’s direction. No, Blaise isn’t a Death Eater -- just short-sighted and self-serving as ever. The point is that he has a Time Turner on his person, which he cannot be allowed to walk away with, under any circumstances. You’ll be able to catch him leaving the Department of Mysteries if you go downstairs in the next fifteen minutes. He’ll be meeting Lucius Malfoy around 8:30, in the middle of Harry’s hearing, so don’t let him walk away without getting that Time Turner away from him. Don’t come at the issue straight-on, though -- you can appeal to Blaise to give it to you willingly. Just keep him talking. Once you have the Time Turner, you can hold onto it until Dumbledore arrives in your office at the time that was originally scheduled for Harry’s hearing, so he can use it to go back far enough to arrive at Harry’s hearing on time. 

I know, this Time Travel stuff is absolutely bloody ridiculous. But at least this way Malfoy won’t be able to use the Time Turner Blaise stole to cause even more havoc. 

Burn this letter as soon as you’re done reading it. We don’t want anyone coming across it. 

Good luck. 

As for Dumbledore himself, he arrived at Harry’s hearing right on time, all according to plan. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. “Dumbledore. Yes. You --er -- got our -- er -- message that the time and -- er -- place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #harry potter #fanfiction #carewyn cromwell #albus dumbledore #cornelius fudge #amelia bones #blaise cromwell #lucius malfoy #time turners #AHHHHHH #YES IT ALL COMES TOGETHER #this took a while to write but it was worth it #but yeah my mum loathes time travel stories #she's a scientist at heart so the illogicality of them just drives her crazy #jacob honestly doesn't like working with dumbledore any more than carewyn does but he does see 'the greater good' of it #so he ends up being a guard not just for the prophecy but also later on for people escaping the death eaters #he likewise just barely evades ministry scrutiny enough to be able to hide people during the War #yes carewyn's choice ultimately does lead to negative fall-out like bode getting imperiused and arthur getting attacked by nagini #which of course carey-bear deeply regrets #but at the same time how much more damage might she have prevented? we'll never know #sometimes in war you have to make bad choices to try to mitigate even worse consequences :(

[destressjournal]

DCOM Rankings #66: Return to Halloweentown

Okay, so I’m gonna confess to you all. Ready?

This movie is the first Halloweentown movie I’ve ever seen. DONT KILL ME! I saw it when it premiered in 2006 and I think I really liked it because of Sara Paxton and the fact that she was also in Aquamarine (love that movieee). But also I just really enjoyed it back then.

Over the years I’ve only managed to watch the first one because everyone said it was so good. I finally watched the second and third ones for this current ranking. So now that I know the context behind everything....yikes....the movie actually makes me angry.

I know that this movie isn’t well liked because they replaced the main actress (apparently they replaced her without even telling the original actress, which is really shitty) but honestly I think she did decently as Marnie. Was there a personality change? Slight...the Kimberly j brown Marnie would have been much more aggressive than the Sara Paxton version. But other than that I don’t see too much of an issue. My issues with the movie go BEYOND this.

I’m actually going to say the good things first just cuz I feel like it.

- like I said, I really like Sara Paxton as an actress, and ugh she’s so beautiful...and I think she played Marnie pretty well, in my opinion, not 100% obviously but good enough

-the overall plot and pacing of the movie is soooooooo much better than the 3rd movie. Oh my god it’s like night and day! I was definitely more entertained from the 4th movie than the 3rd if anything. there was a lot going on a one single villain (or group I guess) to focus on.

-most importantly, we’re BACK in Halloweentown!! I missed it so much. AND we got to see Halloween town back in the colonial days as well, which was cool too. I really do like the asthetic of the university and it fits really well with the Halloweentown vibe. I mean it’s basically hogwarts but less cool.

Okay now the things that make me annoyed, angry, or any negative emotion. I’m about to go off on some things.

- Even though Sara Paxton did a pretty good job in my opinion, just the fact that they replaced the main actress is a ballsy move and a shitty one when you consider what actually happened. And I can see why fans would consider this film to be non-canon or alternate universe or just a tack on movie. Because this is the first HT movie that I’ve ever seen, it’s still nostalgic for me though and I think by itself it would be a better movie, because that’s how I originally viewed it.

- the pacing was decent, but the overall plot was kinda predictable. I mean, another group of people suddenly want to take over Halloweentown, there’s a Cromwell prophecy, and it just happens to be the 1000th celebration cuz why not? I will say I’m glad it wasn’t as confusing as the previous two, but at least have a reason why you want to control it that has nothing to do with Kalabar’s reasons.

-going off this, the villains were a little lame and boring. The sinister sisters were okay I guess, they were more annoying than anything else.

-Dillan was straight up useless because he was put under a spell the whole time. He just kind of tags along and agrees to study at witch university just to keep Marnie out of trouble. I feel like that would be out of character. Dillan prefers real world stuff over magic. Unless he secretly liked it all this time. I don’t know. Also they finally just written Sophie out of the movie entirely. Can’t say im surprised. But it still upsets me. Like you had the chance to create a close-knit magical family, but only parts of the family were able to make it at a time.

-the grandma was only there for one scene and that was it! I thought she was in the movie much more than that!! I’m so disappointed! Maybe Debbie had other obligations, I’m not sure. They kind of replaced her with another old woman actress, her “best friend” to be the grandmother figure. It was eh.

-the twist was dumb, I guess because I saw it a mile away. So now aggie was queen of Halloweentown and no one decided to mention the prophecy until now? Like no one mentioned there was a thing as Cromwell royalty? Idk, this 4th movie is starting to stretch things.

-lastly, the love interest. I’m gonna say first that they probably just brought Lucas Gabriel back on because “look, watch our movie, we have an HSM actor in it!” Now that that’s out of the way, WOW is this love connection forced!!! My god I hated them together! Now that I understand the context behind his character, he acted completely platonic to her in the previous movie, because his dad was the straight up villain!! But ugh all their scenes together were straight up awkward! No chemistry whatsoever and didn’t make any sense. I’m glad they didn’t kiss or anything, but they could have just been friends and I would have been more than fine, because their argument that starts the third act was actually pretty interesting. Either Luke or the second guy would have been fine! Even the third guy was somewhat okay. This just angers me that they just forced them together cuz why not. Nooooo!

Okay that’s everything I think. So overall I really liked this movie as a kid, but now that I’ve seen it again, I guess my memories of it weren’t as clear as I thought. And that makes me sad, because as a stand alone I feel like it would be a decent movie, but as part of a series, it just feels wrong. And now I’m sad. For a letter grade I think I’ll still give it a B but a low B. I don’t know if I want to rank this higher than the 3rd movie...maybe JUST below it.

The next movie is another classic that I don’t want to see be ruined by my modern eyes. But the show must go on. See you then!

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Balance Requires Motion (Six Cowgirl AU)

TW: Animal abuse

————

Horse barn names/racing names:

Latte/Overly Caffeinated

Dusty/Avoiding Dust

Vinnie/Vincent Van GoGo

Whisper/TellMeYourSecrets

Blazer/Out-Burn Kamikaze

Listener/Lost Song

Peril/Hell Comes Handily

Croft/Tomb Raider

Queenie/SheBeast

———————

Jockeys/Race nicknames:

Anna Cleves/Red

Anne Boleyn/The Trickster

Joan Meutas/Hurricane

Thomas Cromwell/Bulldog

Thomas Culpeper/Salt

———————

“What did I say about bringing him into the house?!”

“He gets cold!”

“Fuck, he stepped in the food!”

Maggie blinks from where she’s packing up her things, watching as a medium-sized goose honks and hops back up on the table, his foot going into the mashed potatoes. Maria screeches, reaching out to grab her beloved bird, but he flaps his wings and dashes off the table and under the couch.

Bessie just sighed and rubbed her thumb and index finger against her forehead. This is a normal occurrence, seeing as how her roommate favors the bird for some reason.

“You have to stop bringing him in,” Bessie scolds, grabbing the ruined potatoes. She’ll save them for the pigs, maybe.

“But his dad is the devil! He doesn’t deserve to be stuck outside in the cold with that demon!”

Maggie suddenly gasps, placing a hand to her chest.

“Aries is a sweetheart! Sure, he may look a little rundown, but he’s sweet and loving!”

She receives two looks of disbelief.

“You’re the only one he likes,” Bessie says, shaking her head.

“Yeah, he’s a pest for everyone but you!” Maria calls from where she is now, crouching down on the living room floor. She peeks under the couch and then a cushioned seat, squeaking as the goose tries to nip at her. She coos, placing her hand under the chair until the bird hesitantly waddles out.

“Who’s my good Leonardo?” Maria coos, rocking the goose back and forth in her hands.

“I still don’t understand why you named a goose ‘Leonardo’. Too pristine for him,” Bessie says, noticing Maggie scurrying over to the house phone that was starting to ring. “Take him outside.”

Maria let out a long groan, but obeyed and walked out of the house to return Leonardo to his pen. When she returns Maggie has finished the phone call.

“It’s Miss Seymour,” The farmhand informs, “She’s got a mare that’s struggling.”

With that, Bessie is already swiping her car keys and pulling on her coat. She nods to Maria, who heads out the door to the truck.

“Would you like to be dropped off, dear?” Bessie asks her young farmhand, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“I can stay,” Maggie said, “I want to help.”

Bessie smiled and nodded, heading out to the car to get to the job.

—————

“Maria will you stop cringing and help me?”

Bessie’s roommate peeked into the barn, her face pale and expression disgusted, then immediately yanked herself back out.

“Oh, that is so gross! I didn’t sign up for this!”

“You didn’t sign up for ANYTHING! I am letting you LIVE in MY HOUSE for FREE! So get your ass OVER HERE and HELP ME!”

Standing against the far wall in of the barn, Jane Seymour, the farm owner, and her horse trainer, Catherine Aragon, watched this exchange go on. Maggie stood alongside them, holding any tools that might have been needed.

“Are they...?” Aragon’s words trailed off as she scratched the top of her head. “Does this...?”

“Oh yeah.” Maggie said without her finishing. “This is their process!”

“You have your ARM in a horse’s VAGINA!! You never said anything about THAT when I came to live with you!”

“I’ll stick my arm up YOUR VAGINA if you don’t get over here!” Bessie then quieted her voice and stroked the fur of Latte, the foaling horse she was assisting, “Shh, Shh, Shh. It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay... MARIA!!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming!”

Maria dragged herself over to the fallen horse and did her best to not look at the hooves sticking out of the mare’s vagina.

After some time goes by, Bessie was pulling on the foal’s front legs, sticky and wet with birthing fluid and covered in the placenta. She was doing her best to be gentle, yet firm enough to pull out the baby, but the mare continued to let out louder whinnies. Jane grips tightly to her shirt as she watches.

“Come on, girl. I can’t do it alone. Push.” Bessie said encouragingly, pulling out more of the baby.

“Come on, Latte, push. You can do it.” Maria said to the mother. The horse’s wild, tired eyes looked up at her.

And, as if she was actually listening, she began to push harder. The foal’s head slipped out a second later, followed by the rest of the upper body.

“That’s it, you’re doing it!” Maria cheered happily, trying to keep her voice down so she would remain calm.

“Almost there,” Bessie murmured as she got a hold of the foal’s middle.

After a few minutes, the foal was finally out. A spew of birthing fluids and placenta followed and Maria was darting out of the barn, causing Bessie to laugh as she peeled off the soaked glove she had on her arm.

“Good work, Mars!” She called.

“Urrg...” Maria groaned from outside.

“You okay, love?”

“Fine...like you care...” Maria grumbled.

Bessie laughed again and then looked back down at the baby. The new foal looked just like it’s mother. Under all that goo was a beautiful, chestnut colored mustang, with a sweet little patch of white on it’s nose. She just about swooned when she saw those large, gleaming brown eyes look up at her.

“It’s a filly,” Bessie called to Jane, who was taking deep breaths of relief.

“Oh, she’s perfect.” Jane said, walking over slowly. “Bessie, I cannot thank you enough. I was so worried...”

The filly began to gather her surroundings, looking around to see where she was while her mother licked and nuzzled her from above. After a moment, she slowly began to stand on her long legs, wobbling and tumbling down a few times, making Maggie laugh a bit before she finally started to get the hang of it. She clumsily tottered her way over to her mother and instantly began to nurse.

Speaking of the young farmhand, she was alerted by voices outside, so she walked out and approached a nearby track.

“Jog him a bit, Catherine doesn’t want anything crazy," A dark-skinned girl, maybe around nineteen, called to another colored woman on a horse.

The woman on the horse nodded in understanding. She walked her mount, a large, muscled chestnut mare, down to one of the far poles, circled her around, and shifted her weight forward allowing the horse to start moving.

At the same time, a second woman riding a bulky red stallion, shot by, throwing up dust as they went by. The chestnut mare grunted and staggered backwards, nearly rearing, but she calms when her rider pats her broad neck and whispers something loving in her ear.

“Anne!” The nineteen-year-old barked, “Didn’t you hear me?!”

“She never does,” Giggled the second girl at her side. She was younger, maybe seventeen, and her hair was dyed pink at the tips.

“A jog is so boring! Vinnie and I need something more exciting!”

“Then give me a few figure eights!” The nineteen year old said.

Seemingly content with that, the red stallion and his rider pushed forward and began running in circles. As they did this, Maggie found it to be the best time to approach the two girls.

“Hello?” She called, and the pair leaning against the track fence turned around. The one with dyed hair smiled brightly and lunges for her, hugging her tightly.

“Maggie!” She chirped. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Emergency call,” Maggie grinned, hugging back, “I was still at Bessie’s house, so I decided to come over! Hey, Cathy.”

“Hey, Maggie.” Cathy smiled at her.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Helping Anna and Anne train,” Cathy said, “Since Catherine is with Jane and the mare, we were gonna watch and help out here. We got a race coming up.” Pride leaked into her voice. “How’s your jockey coming along? Bessie said she’s getting into horse racing.”

Maggie inwardly winced, but, luckily, doesn’t actually do it to where anyone can see.

“Joan’s doing good! She struggled a little at first, but she’s come a long way.” She then smirked, “You guys better be ready for some competition.”

Cathy actually laughed loudly at that. Katherine grinned brightly.

“Oh, we are!” Cathy said.

“Speak of the Devil!” Katherine yipped.

Maggie turned around to see a blonde girl, barely eighteen, with tired eyes walking a red horse with black speckles up to the track. She perks up a little.

“Joan!” She called, “What are you doing here?”

“Bessie texted me to bring Blazer over.” Joan said. Her voice was as tired as her eyes were, oozing with hidden pain she tried to shove away. It’s like she’s been shattered and pieced back together several times. She went to say something else, but stopped when she noticed the other two jockeys on the track, moving with such professionalism and perfection that it nearly made her turn around and march back home.

By the gleam in Katherine’s eye, she's caught the young jockey’s expression.

“Up you get, Joan,” She said cheerfully. “Show us those skills you've been honing!”

Joan turned to her to glare slightly, her irritation for Jane’s farmhand already bubbling. She ignores it for now, though, and grabbed the saddle horn and clambered onto Blazer’s muscular back. Surprised, the horse stumbles a little, pawing at the dirt with a front hoof. Then he settles. Somewhat. He doesn't seem happy...

Blazer hesitates. He shuffles back and forth. Under Joan’s thighs, his muscles tense, and, for a moment Joan thinks he might throw her off. Then, he cranes his head around, looking for something. Joan laughs softly and gives it to him- a sugar cube.

Cathy wrinkled her nose a little at this. Katherine attempts a little lopsided smile, while Maggie shrinks back, secondhand embarrassment stinging her insides.

“He shouldn’t be so fidgety when you get onto him,” Cathy said as gently as possible. “And you shouldn’t have to tempt him into listening to you with treats... Is he not trained?”

“He is trained!” Joan snapped, causing Blazer to stir in agitation at the tone of her voice. She quiets herself, hunching her shoulders in a little, and mutters an apology to her mount. “Blazer’s just...he has a temper. That’s all.”

Cathy and Katherine say no more on the topic. Katherine opens the gate to the track and Blazer trots through the fence.

“Hey, Joan!”

The woman on the red stallion, Anne, came charging up to Joan and, for a moment, the girl thought she was going to get trampled. But then the horse skids to a perfect halt in front of her.

“Hi, Anne.” Joan gave her a small smile. “And this is...?”

“Vincent Van GoGo.” Anne smirked proudly. “Vinnie is his normal name. Anna’s lady is Dusty. Or Avoiding Dust.”

That name was understandable. That mare looked so fast. When she was in a race, she could probably easily avoid dust.

“And who’s this?”

“Blazer.”

“Race name?”

“Race-? Oh! Out-Burn Kamikaze.”

Anne quirked an eyebrow.

“It was Maria’s idea.”

Anne laughed. “Ah! Alright. Well, why don’t you try practicing? I don’t think I’ve seen you ride before.”

Joan nods and heads off to begin.

Figure eights and loops around the yard to start, then she has Blazer hop over a few fence posts one by one. He's responding beautifully.

Now the tricky bit.

Joan urges Blazer around the curve of the track and leans forward, allowing him to speed up. He does and his canter quickly turns to a full gallop.

Wind tears through Joan’s hair as her mount ran around the track. The air feels crisp while atop the speeding beast- it was unreal.

It was amazing.

But then, all of a sudden, Blazer is spasming.

Spooked by something, the horse jerked to the side and began rearing in circles in the middle of the track. He jabbed at the air with his front hooves, shrilling frightful, or maybe furious whinnies so loud they bring Aragon, Jane, and Bessie out of the stables.

Joan helplessly cries for her steed to calm down, but her yelling only seems to spur his frenzy further. He whipped his head back and forth, turned in every direction, and reared until, finally, Joan came loose from his back and was flung to the dirt. With one final buck of his hind legs, he scampered away to try and calm himself down.

Joan lays dazed on the ground for several long seconds. Her shoulder aches in tremendous pain when she sits up, winding her further. She struggles to breathe as several other cries of horses sound around her. Avoiding Dust and Vincent Van GoGo must have gotten spooked by Blazer’s tantrum.

“Joan!!”

Someone was coming, so she angrily scrubs away her tears and forces herself to her feet. Her shoulder throbs in disagreement, but she ignores the scream of her muscles and bones.

“Joan, are you okay?” Maria asked. Worry was glinting in her eyes. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Joan growled, her voice cracking slightly. She sniffled and clawed away tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks again.

“Oh, sweetheart...”

“I’m going back to the farm.” Joan said. She then turned around and promptly walked over to Blazer, who bumped her reddened face as if nothing had happened.

The entirety of Royalling Stones Farm felt silent as she walked out with her horse in tow.

“Is she okay?” Bessie asked Maria the moment Joan was out on the street.

“I don’t know,” Maria answered. “She was crying, though...”

“Poor thing...” Bessie sighed.

“Is everything alright?” Jane asked.

“Besides the kid being bucked off and all.” Aragon added.

“Yeah,” Bessie said slowly. “Joan’s just...got some things going on. That’s all. Anyway...I need to be getting Maggie home. Let’s go, girls! It was good seeing you Jane. You too, Catherine.”

With goodbyes said, Bessie, Maria, and Maggie all piled into Bessie’s truck to leave.

The ride home was awkwardly silent. Maria was going to start up a conversation when Maggie suddenly yelled and pointed out the window.

“What’s going on?”

Bessie and Maria both whipped their heads around to see their jockey and her horse causing some kind of scene in a neighboring farm. When Bessie saw what farm it was, she nearly floored it and continued driving, but she couldn’t do that to Joan, so she pulled over.

“Leave her alone!” Joan was yelling. At her side, Blazer was working himself up to a proper temper, stomping his hooves and snorting.

“What’s it to you, kid?” The man she was speaking to scoffed.

“What’s it to me? The poor thing’s crying out! It’s probably whining because she’s tired. I saw you running sprints with her when I passed by. She’s panting, can’t you see? If you bring her into her stable and give her some water she should calm down, no reason to whip her.” Joan replied, matching the man’s gaze. She has herself bristled up like an angry squirrel.

The horse she was referring to was a giant void of black. The mare was huge, much bigger than Vinnie back at Jane’s farm. However, the large creature was very clearly frightened and kept crying out and pain from when her owner had whipped her.

“It’s my horse. I paid for her. I can do whatever I’d like to her.” The man said, stalking closer to Joan. “Her race name is SheBeast for a reason. Now, why don't you go off and braid your little colt’s mane whilst I try and break my mare in like a real trainer, aye?”

Joan clenched her fists tightly. Blazer was getting more and more agitated by the second, the cries of the other horse setting him off.

“Alright, that’s enough!”

The sound of Bessie’s booming voice drove Blazer into a bucking fit. The whip-wielding man leapt away as Joan held tightly to her horse’s reigns, which gets her jerked around in the process.

“Jesus fuck!” The man yelled, “Control your horse, brat! Before he kills someone!”

“I am!” Joan snapped.

“Joan.” Bessie growler. “Get Blazer under control and let’s go.”

“Bessie!” Joan said in surprise, still being yanked around by her horse. “Wait- what? We can’t leave! This man’s-“

“Ah, Elizabeth.” The man smirked widely.

“Cromwell.” Bessie spit. She grabbed Joan rougher than she intended to and pushed the girl behind her.

“Please. Use Thomas.” Thomas crooned, “You’re looking well. Better than well. Henry has been saying how good you look at the races and now I see what he means.” His eyes are hungry.

“We’re leaving.” Bessie hissed. She ignored Joan’s blubbering and pulled her to the truck as Thomas laughed and called to her mockingly.

“Bessie, we cant leave. The horse-“

“I know, Joan,” Bessie said. “It’s terrible, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“Yes there is! What’s your deal with this place? Why do you want to leave so badly? He’s hurting that horse!”

“It’s his horse.”

“That makes it worse!”

“Joan, please, you’re making a scene.”

“And you’re refusing to help that poor horse! She needs us!”

“Joan, we are not-“ Bessie cut herself off with a help of pain when Blazer suddenly bites her hand.

—————

Joan furiously threw chicken feed into the coop, tears burning down her cheeks. The birds fluttered around to eat, unaware of what she was muttering about. Not that they would care.

Geez. Was she really at such a low in her life that she thought some chickens would care about her?

(Nobody cares nobody cares nobody cares that’s why Bessie got mad Bessie is just using her)

The girl put the bucket she was using back in the main barn, then went to go get on the horses. There, she found Blazer, munching away on some alfalfa. His twin sister, a gorgeous dapple grey mare named Listener, was in the pen right beside his.

“Are you scared, too?” Joan whispered to her horse. “Is that why you won’t run?”

Blazer didn’t even look up at her.

“Were you scared when you bit Bessie? Were you...protecting me?”

Nothing.

“I’m scared, too.”

No reaction.

However, when Joan opens the corral gate, his head whips up.

Joan steps inside, bolting the door behind her, and Blazer whinnies and lifts his forelegs, mimicking a rear-up, his ears turning back- but not flattening. He doesn't show his teeth.

Joan lets Blazer circle around, but when Blazer turns to show Joan his hindquarters, she steps back, her spine pressing uncomfortably against the wooden gate.

A good jockey or trainer would have whipped the ill-tempered horse with a coil. Not enough to hurt, but enough to let the horse know it was a warning to not kick out. Hell, even a normal jockey or trainer would know that.

But Joan wasn’t normal or good.

She shrunk back further against the gate, eyeing Blazer’s powerful back legs wryly. One kick from those in the head and she’d be dead.

(Please kick please kick please kick bust open her skull smash in her brain make her no more make her no more PLEASE)

Blazer watches the girl, then huffs, nostrils flared out. His hooves settle back on the ground. Joan smiles a little, dipping her head. She steps forward.

“There we go,” She whispered. She has some sugar cubes in her pocket and puts one in her closed fist, knowing Blazer can smell it. “C'mon, you giant. What else you gonna try?”

Blazer lowers his head like she was. Then, he darts to the side, kicking up a spray of dirt, and Joan laughs, wiping her hand over her face where some hit her. Blazer tries to show his hindquarters again and Joan sidesteps, not wanting to flick her horse, even if it wouldn’t hurt. Blazer huffs trots around the corral.

“I got all the time in the world,” Joan warns the animal, as Blazer snorts and blusters again, pulls up short as if he can trick Joan into turning too far. Seems put out, huffing in annoyance when Joan proves too smart for that. Joan laughs and Blazer finally seems to calm, his ears rolling forward. He shakes his mane out and swishes his tail like a wagging dog.

Joan hums, and then she goes to the edge of the corral, keeping her eyes on Blazer. She sits back, and bends down so she can keep her thighs on one of the metal bars, but her chest is behind it, and she can put her arms over the bar above and stay upright. Blazer snorts at her, walking slowly back and forth, side to side but getting a little closer each time, like he's testing the waters. He looks almost sheepish, like someone realizing they had been blowing things way out of proportion.

Joan grins at him, and offers the sugar cube with a flat palm.

Blazer perks up with a soft whinny, ears forward, and lips delicately at the mint. He snorts at the girl, long lashes dipping over his dark, warm eyes. Joan knows horses aren't capable of having thoughts like people do, don't understand things like taxes and God, but there seems to be some focused shine in Blazer’s eyes, and Joan thinks, with a smile, that they have just come to some unspoken agreement.

“There we go,” She murmurs, petting over Blazer’s big, warm cheek. The stallion breathes out heavily, warm on Joan’s arm and chest, and swishes his tail again, taking another slow step forward. “I know, you just had to get it all outta your system.”

She laughs when Blazer nudges at her pocket, seeking another sugar cube. She pushes Blazer’s forelock to one side, scratches over his forehead, and cups his cheeks.

“Who’s my big brave boy?” She whispered to him.

It could have been pure coincidence, or, perhaps, Blazer really did understand her, but the horse paws the dirt with one hoof and bobbed his head up before returning to Joan’s hands. The girl stared in shock for a moment before a wide, giddy smile stretched on her features.

“Yes you are!” She cooed and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft nose. “You’re my big brave boy.”

Joan closed her eyes, relaxing herself as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Blazer’s.

“We’re gonna be champions, you and me.” She told him. “We’re partners. And we can do this. I know we can. Even if we’re scared, at least we can be scared together.”

#cowgirl au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical au #six fic #six ff #six fanfiction #six the musical #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #bessie on the bass #maggie on the guitar #maria on the drums #joan on the keys #thomas cromwell #tw: animal harm

[the-wxtchy-half]

Flashback Solo Para: Terror

Trigger warnings: Animal death (mouse), bullying, Margo

“That’s not a child! She’s a terror!”

Margo looks up from where she was quietly playing with the mouse she’d killed like it was a doll when mommy darling yells.The six-year-old has no idea what she’s yelling about but if she had to guess it was her, based on the gestures that she’s making and the phrasing of her exclamation.

Daddy dearest looks bored. “You’re going to have to stop doing that.”

“Would you look at her, Kal?! She’s-- well, you see!”

“What I see,” he answers slowly, barely glancing at Margo, “Is a child, who should be in Halloweentown where she belongs, but can’t be. Just because she doesn’t behave like a mortal child--”

“Oh, don’t you use that against me, you’re the one who chose me--”

Margo abruptly tunes them out and continues playing with the mouse carcass. Daddy dearest and mommy darling fight a lot. It’s nothing to concern herself with, no matter how bad it gets.

This time is still different, though. Mommy darling doesn’t storm off like normal. She goes and gets her things and leaves, grimacing at Margo as she walks out the door with everything she had before she married daddy dearest.

Whatever. Margo doesn’t need her anyways.

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

The witch school is boring. She hates it. The only reason she’s here is that daddy dearest thinks that with her childhood behaviors, there’s a lot of likelihood that she’s more witchy than not.

But Margo doesn’t want to be here, she thinks boredly, staring out the window, ignoring the lecture on proper spellcrafting. She hated being cooped up for all of this and she hated a lot of her classmates.

There was one who stood out, though. Sabrine Eastwind. Margo wanted to beat her into the ground even at only ten years old. She other girl was so haughty and annoying and was a terrible bully. But Margo is scrappy, so she doesn’t fight Sabrine. She just makes extra sure to find ways to mess with the other girl’s assignments and ruin her concentration and work in class.

It’s the only fun thing about this school.

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

Margo glares and shoves Sabrine out of her face, glaring at her. “Buzz off.”

Bad choice. Very bad choice. Margo immediately regrets that choice, but she just sneers at the other witch anyways. Sabrine gasps and glares stepping back up and grabbing Margo by her hair and yanking her forward to make her stumble. Margo yelps and glares, trying to get at her but some of the others hold her back. Now she’s in for it.

That is, until, unexpectedly, she hears a particular giggle. Sabrine whips around to see Maddy and glares crossly. “This isn’t any of your business.”

“I don’t think so,” Maddy answers. “Let her go,” she then barks at the others, but none of them move.

Margo becomes aware of someone coming up on her peripheral. A blonde boy she doesn’t recognize clears his throat, glaring at Cyrus. “She said, let her go. Now, don’t make ME ask you.”

Margo smirks, finally kicking out and knocking Ellie to the ground, wrenching her arms away and standing up. Apparently not braced for that, Sabrine scowls and spits at her but waves her crew out of there. Margo sighs and brushes off the dirt on her knees. “What was that for?”

“We’re not exactly fans of the bullies who get off on having a hold over any of us because we’re not to their standards,” Maddy answers. “C’mon. Let’s introduce you to Faith.”

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

As it turns out, though, Faith wasn’t the interesting one to her. Dexter was snarky, he was aloof, he was always up for a good prank... and he was actually pretty cute.

But Margo doesn’t have mortal feelings like that, at least, so daddy dearest would tell her, but he did. He liked the Cromwell girl, and at some point she thinks he liked mommy darling. So she believes.

And if he did, then why wouldn’t she?

Dexter doesn’t, though. So Margo decides to keep that pesky mortal half of her hidden, and instead gets into chaos and hellraising with him instead. It’s not easy, but it is so much better in her opinion.

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

Margo made some friends who mostly came from Dragon Hall, once upon a time. It was definitely different, not having to be alone. Daddy dearest didn’t care. He never did. So long as she was home at some point. And did she really care about him?

Nah. He was a pretty hands-off kind of dad. He and grampsie usually just griped to each other about not being in Halloweentown. Something Margo herself had never cared to listen to.

She’s walking through one of the shops on the Isle, silently stuffing her pockets as she goes through, her fingers catching on a particular gold necklace with some little charm on it. Not really paying attention to what it is... but it does get her caught by the shopkeeper and their family serving as anti-theft guards.

Ooops. The blonde half-witch wears a trademark grin as she bolts out the back, fleeing down the streets of the Isle. Passing a boy she doesn’t know, but she does see how small he is and he’s clearly not paying attention to what’s behind him, so she grabs his arm and pulls him along. To her surprise, he hides them both and gets them out of danger entirely.

And all he wants in return for pulling her out of that is the necklace that got her caught in the first place? Margo decides to bring him to the Mafia as well. They could use someone like him, in her opinion.

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

For better or for worse, she was now in Auradon. Visiting daddy dearest got boring too quickly and she hadn’t spoken to mommy darling since she walked out when Margo was six.

So Margo decides to go to school, for once daddy dearest can’t force her to attend the ones she doesn’t like... not that it matters, since she had auto-acceptance into Auradon Prep with the situation with the Isle being what it was. She’s immediately happy to see the familiar faces and now they’re all willing to get into trouble again... this time, though, trouble packs more of a punch.

She’s first aware of it the night she and Dexter break into the museum and grab the Cromwell spell book. She feels a jolt the second she touches it, a chaotic energy that sticks with her even after she lets it go.

They bury the book deep in the woods, she really doesn’t even remember where... but she can still feel the itch of it. Whatever it was that she felt when she’d grabbed the thing... and she was curious.

After all, it had only been speculation that made daddy darling call her a witch. She was half-mortal. It was possible she wasn’t magical. So, curiously, the witch had gotten out of bed and broken into the library, going onto a computer to research any spells from the Cromwell book.

She found a pretty simple one. Conjuring a small flame, enough to light a candle. It doesn’t even take a whole lot, it’s a spoken spell... which she quietly murmurs, using her finger tip as the focus.

Momentarily it lights, and she quickly puts it out, blinking, but smirking to herself.

Oh.

Auradon just got interesting.

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

Of course she’s down for chaos at the musical when the idea is presented to her. Especially knowing now that she has magic. Only a few in the Mafia know that, of course. She plans on using it in subtle ways, nothing too major, just a little... fun.

She’s more of a distraction, especially when Solan shows up backstage to stop them and she uses the creature spell daddy dearest had taught her so well as a child even though magic didn’t work. She’s rather proud of her handiwork till his stupid girlfriend shows up and summons animals that attack her and cause her to abandon the show.

At least Faith doesn’t hold it against her when they see her roughed up and scratched. She’d been a bit overwhelmed and this magic thing was still all new to her.

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

That spark, that chaos, had been growing in her since they entered October and it just kept growing as time came closer and closer to Halloween. Which made total sense, of course.

But then one night she’d stumbled upon the spell. A story switching kind of thing. Nobody had attempted it in such a large quantity but... Margo wanted to. But she wasn’t going to be alone to enjoy it.

There was only one friend that she really enjoyed the idea of creating a little chaos with at all times, and she had a feeling he was going to love this... which of course, Dexter had.

Now, all she had to do was iron out the finer points. And Margo Kountz was so, so close to having it all figured out.

She was ready. This was going to be amazing.

#i invented the sound of madness: margo #i can be a handful: solo para

[sweetbitradio]

Robin Zander’s Countryside Blvd.

Robin Zander’s Countryside Blvd. isn’t exactly the country album that everyone claims it to be. Sure there are elements of country scattered throughout the album, sometimes almost painfully forced on tracks, however; in another life some of these songs could have been placed on a Cheap Trick album. To understand this album first, we need to dive into the history of the album.

Countryside Blvd. was mentioned on Cheap Trick’s website in early 2010.

“COUNTRYSIDE album, available in May on Big3 Records What do a handful of Nashville’s premiere session players, the singer from Cheap Trick, the drummer from Neil Young & The Bluenotes, the Warren Brothers, Producer Chris Lindsey, Tim McGraw’s recording team, Nashville’s newest star, Sarah Buxton, Executive Producer Bill Edwards and Big 3 records have in common? COUNTRYSIDE BLVD. That’s the title of the record. COUNTRYSIDE That’s the name of the band. This unique group of musicians, songwriters, and singers gathered in Nashville last year and recorded 12 songs. In that place and time they have captured a fresh country sound with a combination of musical styles. The songs were written and sung by Robin Zander along with a few classics. The album features Sarah Buxton, Tom Bukovac, Pat Buchanan, Chad Cromwell, J.T. Corenflos, Dan Dugmore, Tim Lauer, Glen Worf, Larry Franklin, Perry Coleman, Robin T. Zander and the Countryside Singers. “I’m hopeful that when people discover this album that it’s as fun to listen to as it was to record” states Sara Buxton. “I’ve always wanted to do a record in Nashville and this is it.” says Robin Zander, “To have these musicians of this caliber record my songs for COUNTRYSIDE BLVD was one experience I won’t soon forget. Thanks to all for doing one hell of a record.” Available in May 2010 on Big3 Records & Tapes.”

This seems to be the only kind of press that this album got. Fans know that once the album was released, it was quickly taken off the marketplace for no apparent reason. It is rumored that promotional physical copies of the album were given out to radio, but I’ve yet to see an image of these yet. The track listing also released with this announcement and fans instantly recognized two tracks from Robin’s past being advertised which were “Loves Comes” and “Walkin’ Shoes.”

If you didn’t buy this album on the day of release, chances are you don’t have this album on your computer or phone but a quick trip to a third-part website will get you this album so you can listen along.

1.       Every Dog: Every Dog seems like it could’ve been put on a 90s Tom Petty record and no one would’ve noticed it. I enjoy the track both instrumentally and somewhat lyrically until the phrase “my dog almost got run over by my car, oh, what’s a boy to do?” takes a lot of the swagger this song has away instantly. The opening track seems to want fans to make sure that they are aware that these songs were recorded in Nashville. Not much can be said about the song, other than it’s just so “okay” that it bothers me at points.  2/5 Dogs ran over for this track.

2.       Walkin’ Shoes: When I first started listening to this album, this song stuck out to me for some reason. Maybe it was because I was already familiar with it do to it being on Robin’s previous solo album.  Is it better than the version that’s on Robin’s original solo album? I would almost argue “yes” just due to the simple fact that the years added onto Robin’s voice gives him a more heartbreaking tone some years later on the same track. This version also seems a lot more upbeat than the original.  Does it mean this song is an instant classic? No, far from it; however, it is starting to take the album in a better direction lyrically and this track kind of deserves the “Nashville production.” 2/5 Girls in shoes walking for this track.

3.       The Ballad of Jean & Me: What a hidden gem on an album that hardly anyone knows exists. This song brings back those Tom Petty vibes from “Every Dog” and painfully throws some fiddle at the start to remind you that the album was recorded in Nashville and this is a “country” album. I personally feel if a single was going to come from this album, this would’ve been the track. It’s very upbeat and melodic and personally reminds me of “American Girl” by Tom Petty. Robin’s voice fits this track and the tone on the guitars is very clean and crunchy as they need to be. The fiddles just seem to be forced more than anything and it really shows after the first chorus when a guitar solo plays a similar line to the fiddle at the start of the song and makes you wish that a fiddle didn’t open the song. Also there’s an organ line in the second verse that just adds a little more depth which I enjoyed thoroughly.  Take the time to listen to this song. 3/5 Misplaced fiddles for this track.

4.       Heart of Glass: Folks; we are back to reminding ourselves that this album was recorded in Nashville with an opening fiddle line. This track honestly hasn’t stuck to me in the month I’ve spent with this record. There’s a pre-chorus that sounds very “Cheap Trick lite” and that’s about the only satisfaction that I get from this song. It’s just so “okay.” I know I’ve used that line already, but that seems to be what plagues this album also. There is a female singer on the chorus of this, I’m assuming it’s Sarah Buxton, but then again I’ve almost forgot about this song. 1/5 Glass hearts broken for this track.

5.       What’s Her Name? Things seem to pick back up with this track. For people who have downloaded this album, there seems to be an unofficial bonus track with an alternate mix for this song, which reminds me of 80s Cheap Trick. This song is great and I personally believe with a “beefed up” production, it could’ve been on “the Latest” or even “Bang Zoom Crazy Hello.” Anyone who wants to have the line “what’s her name, what’s her name” stuck in their head for an afternoon, please listen to this track fully. I just wish Robin would scream “what’s her name, what’s her name” instead of holding back.  I just heat his trademark scream belting this line out. On the plus side there is a very enjoyable slide guitar solo featured on this track. 3/5 Record machines with her number on them for this track.

6.       I Wonder What You’re Doing Tonight: Very forgettable, very bland and I honestly forgot about this song until I sat down to write this. Not trying to be too harsh on a track featuring Robin Zander, but the production is just lacking and it’s so “hey, remember we recorded this in Nashville.” 1/5 I won’t be listening to this track tonight.

7.       Pamela Jean: This song just screams Cheap Trick to me. It was reported that Robin wrote this track for his wife around this time. This song is a defiant breath of fresh air on this album and the first time I listened to it, I thought that I was listening to something off of “the Latest.” This song has a very similar production style to that album. It even has a Rick Nielsen style guitar solo on this track. I wish so badly Cheap Trick would go back and re-do this song. I feel like they could bring an energy to this song with the current lineup that would make it a classic because that seems to be the only thing that keeps the song from being “great”; is a lack of energy in the performances. If you are wanting to give this album a spin, this should be the first song you tackle. It gets 4/5 Pamela Jeans from me.

8.       Say You Will: This song starts with a wah guitar that seems to be promising and then the production kicks in and totally “wusses out” the mix. This song isn’t bad at all and I could see this being an amazing song from either a different group, or with a different production standpoint. The chorus is catchy and Robin’s voice is killer throughout the entire track, especially in the verses. There’s just something about the entire production of this album that seems to take seemingly great songs, and make them less than enjoyable to sit through.  2/5 (nothing clever to rate it as.)

9.       Was I Wrong: When I first heard this, I thought I was listening to a demo version of “Miracle” from “the Latest.” Then I realized I wasn’t and quickly lost interest in this song. It appears that Sara is back to sing alongside Robin in this track. I just didn’t find anything enjoyable about this song. It just seems to be all filler for an album that couldn’t afford to have any filler on it. 1/5 Was I wrong for getting all the way through this track?

10.    Love Comes: Here’s the second cover on this album and I’ve heard some say they enjoy this version more than the original. I’m not one of those people, but I do enjoy listening to this version. Robin’s voice seems to be like fine wine and get better with time because in the years between this and the original, he hasn’t lost a note in my opinion. There is a little kid choir backing Robin on various sections on this version. The little kid choir even finish out the song as it fades out. I mean, this cover is nice and that’s about it. Production wise, I think it still suffers from the “we have to remind people this is country”; however, that doesn’t take away from at the core this is a truly beautiful song. 3/5 just because I like the original that much.  

11.    Save the Last Dance for Me: The best part about this song is the hidden bonus track within it with Robin singing “You Are My Sunshine.” Again, it’s a very forgettable ballad and sounds like two other songs on the album. 1/5 and that’s for Robin singing me a sweet lullaby at the end of the track.

This album isn’t as awful as people make it out to be. I’m not sure why the record label would just pull it within a short period of time. Nothing on this record is so full of cringe that it needs to be erased from the history of music. It’s just an album that’s so “okay” that it probably just bored people to death. If you are a fan of Robin Zander’s voice, you need to check this out. In parts of this album he shines and it makes sitting through the production.  If you’re a fan of Cheap Trick, then you might get something out of this. If you a pure country fan, I don’t think you’ll get anything from this album, due to the album feeling very “misguided.” It’s not a total waste of time though. Overall I’d give it 2/5 failed Robin Zander country projects.