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sofasoap · 6 months

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Teddy bear - 2

Pairing: John Price x F! Reader

Summary: A quiet home date with the handsome mutton chop. Part 1 here

Warning: M Theme. Alcohol use. otherwise generalised fluff.

A/N: Part of the 141Challenge!! Thank you @glitterypirateduck the wonderful CoD fanfic and fanart curator for organising another festival :D you are awesome.

Prompt used:

Kitchen

Thunderstorm/Rain

Caught in the rain

Trust me

John Price Masterlist

Masterlist

“Hello teddy bear lady, we really should stop meeting like this.”

The handsome stranger, later introduced himself as John Price, ended up exchanging numbers after you bump into him ( again ) at the pub.

Your niblings, especially your niece, were happy to see the “furry man” again, They couldn’t stop retelling the stories for days until your sister told them to give her a bit of peace and quiet.

Your sister was quite surprised when he showed up on the doorstep, picking you up for the date.

“Oh.. so.. He exists.” your sister elbowed you, she couldn’t contain the surprise on her face.

“.. you think I made up the whole story with the kids just to pull a prank on you??” you rolled your eyes.

“OHHHHH… your furry face feels so nice..!” Lizzy, your niece was again amazed by John’s facial hair and arm hair.

John smiled at her as he held his arms out and let your niece poke and probe at his hair and mutton chop.

“How about your legs? You say your legs are hairy too? Can I have a look?”

“Lizzy!” you chided. “Where are your manners! You don’t just go around and ask people to expose their body parts!”

“Well… you went on and on about it for days after about it too… Remember?” Your sister mumbled under her breath.

“I did not!!!” you retorted, face started to burn up with embarrassment. Shooting a look at John, who is quite amused by the conversation between the three of you.

Oh heavens. He must be thinking how strange your whole family is. Great. He is probably thinking of ways to bail out on you right now. But he just laughed as he retracted his arm and stood back up.

Surprisingly, he didn’t bail out on you. At the end of the night, he gently took hold of your hands, gazing softly at you with his beautiful blue eyes, quietly asking you on another date.

“I had a lovely time tonight. Can I see you again? I’ll cook for you. I can’t guarantee it will be michelin star quality but I promise you it is a lot better than the MRE ”

A man offers to cook for you? Who can say no to that?

You flinched as you felt the droplet of rain start hitting your face. Damn it, you thought, should have listened to the weather report and brought my brolly. Now I probably have to call for a cab to get to the station afterwards. You huffed. Shrugging off the tote bag around your shoulder, and cradling it under the long coat like some valuable treasure to prevent it getting wet.

Or maybe he would ask you to stay for the night, and you might get lucky for once…..

Shaking your head to get that dirty thought out of your brain, This is only the second date! Maybe I need to bleach my brain. Ugh, better run faster, hair is getting wet. You quicken your pace to run towards the destination before the rain starts pelting down on you.

Double checking the address on your phone as you come up to an unassuming house at the end of a row of terrace houses. Adjusting your hold on the tote bag, you took a deep breath in before you knocked on the plain looking dark brown door, and took a step back, squaring your shoulder, waiting for him to answer the door. Few seconds later you heard the hurrying footsteps before the door opened.

There stands John Price, in a black dress pants and simple navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up, tea towel slung over his shoulder. How does a man always make the simplest clothing look so good?

Your eyes quickly flick down towards the half apron he had on. Tight around his waist.

That slutty waist.

Ok, you really need to get yourself into a nunnery after this to cleanse all these unholy thoughts.

Taking one look at your slightly damp coat and wet hair, John frowned. "I should have gone and picked you up, I am sorry." He apologises as he quickly ushers you inside. "I was too caught up in the cooking to notice the weather outside."

"No need to apologise, I should have heeded the warning from the weather bureau." you replied as he helped you to take off the coat and hang it up by the door. “I won’t melt like the wicked witch of the west with a little bit of rain.” you joked.

“I got the heater going, come inside and you should warm up, you must be cold.” John commented as he gently put his hand on the small of your back as he led you inside.

You glance around as you walk past the corridor and living room. It's a minimalistically decorated flat. There’s no television, a simple bookshelf, a three seater couch with a plain coffee table.

A bachelor’s pad that he hardly lives in.

“I don’t stay in this place a lot,” he said, as if sensing the question floating in your mind. “I also have a room I stayed in on site at the base if I work too late. Which is most of the time.”He chuckled.

“Bit of a workaholic?” You teased, remembering what the three other men’s words about their Captain the night at the pub.

“You sure you want to date him bonnie?” the mohawk man who the others called Soap asked. “The Captain is an absolute workaholic, if he isn’t out on the field training with the crew, he is stuck in the office, nose deep in paperwork. Sorry Captain. Not trying to interfere with your chance at luring a bonnie into bed…”

The other two nodded their heads in agreement. John just groaned and shook his head, clearly not amused at Soap’s jabbing. You actually find it quite endearing, how close the four of them are just from their interaction, despite the differences in ranks.

“Red or white?”

“Um. uh, red please…” you hastily replied as you broke out from your reverie, realising you are now standing in front of the kitchen. Setting down the container of baked goods onto the kitchen bench, you fidget your hand nervously as he pours you a glass of wine.

“Can I.. Can I help with anything?” you offered meekly, wanting to do something to distract yourself.

Shaking his head, he recorked the bottle and guided you to sit down on the stool. “I got it all under control. Trust me. I wouldn’t burn the kitchen down.” he smirked. “Just relax. Dinner shouldn’t be too long.” he reassures you before turning around and walking towards the oven.

A pleasant savoury aroma wafting through the air as he opens the open door to check the food inside.

“That smells really good.” you lean forward, inhaling the scent. “What’s on the menu?”

“Shepherd's Pie. with sides of vegetables and salad.”

He chuckles as your eyes brighten with the mentioning of the dish. “I know it’s your favourite. It’s the first time I made it.I hope It won’t disappoint.”

How does he know it’s your favourite?

The dinner turns out to be absolutely delicious. He was, you have to admit, quite a decent cook. you couldn’t help to let out a moan as you took a bite of the steaming hot pie.

The pie was well seasoned, the broccolini was well pan fried, and the salad was well dressed.

Everything was simple, but well done to perfection.

He chuckled as you quickly inhaled the portion of your pie. “I am taking that is a good sign that I have done this right?”

You took a sip of the red wine, washing down the delicious food, as you shyly smiled at him, slightly embarrassed. You are still slightly tense and nervous in a private environment.Just you, and him. You never had anyone else invite you to a date at their house before.

But part of you is glad he invited you over tonight. You get to see the real, more relaxed John Price side of him, without other people’s prying eyes, without him having to put up a front of being the Captain.

“Oh dear, it’s really bucketing down outside now..” you mumbled as the sound of rain hitting the window caught your attention. The two of you shifted yourself from the dining table onto the couch after dinner, to get more comfortable as you sip on the hot herbal tea, nibbling on the chocolate biscuits you have baked as a simple dessert. You reach forward towards the coffee table for your phone, checking for the next train timetable.

Your heart dropped when the pop up notice on the website shows all trains have been suspended due to the severe weather and heavy rain.

“Damn..nothing is running…” you groaned. You quickly open the ride share app to see if there are any rides nearby, it’s going to cost you a bit, but that’s probably your only way home now. Nothing was showing up either. You guess with how bad the weather is and even the public transports are all suspended, no one is going to risk their life driving on the road.

“Stay for the night?” He offered in a quiet voice as he saw your worried face, struggling to decide what to do.

“You take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” he quickly added as your eyes grew wide at his previous suggestions, as if afraid he’s giving you the wrong idea.

Forever a gentleman.

You shook your head as you replied, “Um, I’ll take the couch, this is your home, I can’t kick a host onto the couch!”

“I insist.” you were ready to debate with him, but one look from him ( the same look he gave to Soap and Gaz at the pub when they started to get a bit too rowdy) had you swallow down the words back in again.

So now, you are sitting on top of his freshly made bed with crisp clean linen. Wearing some old t-shirts and sweatpants he managed to dig up in the death of his closet. . You subconsciously bring the overhanging sleep up towards your face, taking sniff. Smells exactly like him. Slight faint cigar and cologne smell. Making you feel really relaxed, and safe.

“This looks very military style. Did you even manage to iron the bed while I was in the shower??” you teased as you inspected the crease free bed sheet.

“Old habit dies hard.” he blushed as he turned his face away, not looking at you. “If you need me. I’m just down the hallway.” he cleared his throat, trying to cover up his fluster as he bid goodnight to you. “Have a good sleep. I will see you in the morning.”

“John.”

“Hmm?” he turned towards you as he rested his hand on the door knob, eyebrow raised.

You shuffle yourself to the end of the bed, and walk towards him. Feeling brave, you reach your hands up, gently tugging him down to your height, and press a light kiss on his cheek, feeling his mutton chop tickle your face.

“Goodnight. And thank you for letting me stay.” you whispered, looking into his beautiful blue eyes after you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him.

His eyes flicker with emotion. Lips press tight, as if trying to control himself. Slowly letting out a breath, he pulls you into his embrace, kissing you gently on the head.

“Don’t mention it. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bug bites.”

The only thing that was biting you that night was a bug called love.

“Captain, you let her sleep alone on your bed??? Oh these biscuits are good”

“What a gentleman.”

“.. I’ll go make some tea. I hope you at least made her breakfast the next day.”

“Shut up you muppets. Get back to work.”

Sorry I was half brain dead writing this. Part 3 might come out... sometime... later.

Tag:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @mmyrrhh, @gamergirlbones

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar,

@whydoilikewhump @captainpriceslover, @tapioca-marzipan @glitterypirateduck @caramlizedtomatoes

#call of duty #captain john price #john price x you #john price x reader #john price imagine #john price #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #captain price #captain price x y/n #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #sofasoap writes #141challenge

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 8 months

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Working on a Tommy Shelby arranged marriage fic

Lil sneak-peak below the cut

Tommy had had the gall to lean in and peck your cheek when he’d come down to breakfast that morning.

It had taken everything in you not to shove him away.

Polly made no comment on how wane you looked the next morning, nor did Ada or Esme cast you knowing grins or teases. They all looked toward Tommy, and toward the little slip of a shadow that you’d met last night—a birch-pale, dark-haired woman named Lizzie.

You didn’t think that the news had made it back to your family, the fact that your husband had just spent his first night as a newly-married man with a prostitute-turned-secretary while you slept alone in an unfamiliar room wearing the lacy nightie that you’d bought for your honeymoon.

Esme and Ada excused themselves as quickly as they could, but Polly lingered, and offered,

“He’s a prickly sort, and these things take time. Men have their needs and urges.”

“...Right,” You pronounced crisply as you stirred some sugar into your tea, “And I’m a novice in a nunnery.”

#Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x You #Tommy Shelby/Reader #Tommy Shelby/You #Thomas Shelby x Reader #Thomas Shelby x You

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janeaustentextposts · 5 years

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Okay 2 things. I'm watching the 2005 P&P. The first is that I just noticed Mr. Bennet's comment when Lydia is telling Mrs. Bennet about the milita coming and he says "She's going to take the veil." I thought it was hilarious given what happens with Lydia, but also aren't they Protestant? Did the Protestant church even have nuns? Second, Lizzie asks Darcy if he dances; is that appropriate? I thought guys were supposed to ask girls to dance.

The Bennets would be Anglican/Church of England. Now, while we more typically associate veiled nuns with the Roman Catholic tradition, Anglican nuns have and do exist; and some orders do wear veils--this is shown with several characters in Call the Midwife, set during the 1950s and 1960s in London. (Also a woman entering a nunnery for penance or sanctuary was something of a staple in Gothic adventure novels set on the continent in particularly Roman Catholic places like Italy or France, so the notion wouldn’t be completely unknown.) Mr. Bennet was certainly making an ironic joke about the nature of his youngest daughter, who is neither penitent nor seeking to hide from people.

Elizabeth very carefully does not ask Mr. Darcy to dance with her--but her question as to if he dances is certainly a polite lead-in to where she was giving him the opportunity to do the gentlemanly thing and ask her. She’s giving him a chance, and he promptly shuts her down with what may be blunt honesty, but it is really not the moment for blunt honesty. Lizzy throws out the equivalent of “...so...come here often?” to try to get a friendly conversation flowing, and he comes back with “No.” and the pained and awkward silence is all that’s left.

#Ask Me Anything Austen-Adjacent #AMAAA #Jane Austen #Pride and Prejudice #thalassakimou

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cracked-egg-placeholder-blog · 5 years

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a currently untitled fic that may or may not officially be posted

It was a soft night. Warm, slightly humid, but not uncomfortably so. A faint breeze rustled the branches of a nearby tree, adding to the chorus of chirping crickets and the muffled sounds of the city.

Catherine of Aragon watched as a few stray leaves were caught and swept up gracefully by the wind. She absentmindedly picked at the peeling paint adorning the bench she was sitting on. Soft rays of sunlight still clung to the horizon, creating streaks of orange and pink. It made her think back to her past life, of standing on a stone balcony and viewing the night skies. They had been clearer back then.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by a brief commotion inside, voices filled with exasperation and annoyance drifting through the closed door. She sighed and leaned her head back, relaxing her neck, just as the front door burst open and a flustered Anne Boleyn stepped out. She took a step and then, after noticing Catherine sitting there, paused, an air of curiosity about her.

“Hey...what are you doing out here?” Anne said, cocking her head to the side.

“Just enjoying the fresh air.” Catherine said lightly, tilting her head back up to look at the other woman, “You?” Anne lifted a black garbage bag.

“Trash duty.” She said dolefully, before staring daggers at the door. “It was supposed to be Anna’s turn, but she’s currently washing the dishes so Jane made me do it.” Catherine snorted but didn’t respond. Anne fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, but after realizing the conversation was over, she quickly hoisted the large garbage bag up again and marched dutifully towards the bins lined up by the alleyway just left of their property.

Catherine tilted her head back again, closing her eyes this time and enjoying the calmness that washed over her. When the sound of Anne’s footsteps grew closer again, Catherine opened her eyes and turned her head to follow the other woman’s path back up to the porch. Anne didn’t make eye contact. As she reached a hand forward towards the door handle, an unprovoked thought sprung to Catherine’s mind.

“Why don’t you talk about her?” She asked evenly. Anne paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She hesitantly looked over at Catherine.

“Sorry?”

“Why don’t you talk about her?” Catherine repeated, rolling her eyes. “About Elizabeth?” Anne stiffened slightly at the name, eyebrows knitting together.

“I...I’m confused.” Anne’s voice wavered slightly. Catherine huffed, rolling her eyes once more.

“For fuck’s sake, Anne, can you be anymore thick-headed?” Catherine griped, “I mean, why do you never talk about your daughter? I talk about Mary all the time, and even Cath and Jane talk about their kids, despite barely knowing them. Why do you never talk about Elizabeth? She’s like, one of the most influential women in history, that seems like the exact kind of thing you would brag about. So why not?” Anne opened her mouth, then closed it again, then opened it, then sighed.

“I…” She started, but quickly backtracked, closing her mouth again, and looking away from Catherine. Catherine’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

“What’s the matter?” She snipped, “Cat got your tongue?” Anne bristled at this, turning back to Catherine, her eyes flashing.

“Why do you care?” Anne snapped back, “It doesn’t affect you, does it?” Catherine sucked in a sharp breath, slightly taken aback by Anne’s sudden outburst. Then she shrugged nonchalantly.

“I dunno,” She sniffed. “I guess it’s just always bothered me. You talk about yourself all the time.” Catherine snorted, “Actually, you talk in general all the time. Why don’t you talk about her?” Anne’s jaw flexed. Catherine could hear her breathe in deeply through her nose from all the way across the porch. After a moment of hesitation, Catherine sighed and patted the open spot beside her on the bench. Anne’s jaw clenched tighter. Then she rolled her eyes (an exceedingly common occurrence between the two of them, it seemed) and reluctantly trudged over to the bench, plopping down dramatically next to Catherine.

She didn’t speak for a while. It wasn’t until Catherine opened her mouth to make some comment on her silence that Anne finally spoke.

“I feel bad.”

“What?” Catherine was so startled by Anne’s answer she almost laughed. Anne sighed, then leaned back, clasping her hands in her lap.

“I feel bad.” She repeated. “I feel bad because I got to spend at least a few years with her before…” She trailed off, making a slicing motion over her throat. “Jane and Cath didn’t get that chance. I…” She hesitated. “Every time I mentioned something Lizzie did when she was a child...I don’t know...Jane always gets this faraway look in her eyes and gets really quiet, and Cath leaves the room. I just feel bad that I got to experience something they didn’t.” Anne shrugged uncomfortably. Catherine’s eyebrows knitted together slightly. She thought about all the times she had gushed about Mary, without even noticing Jane’s or Cath’s reactions.

“Yeah but, that doesn’t mean you can’t talk about her?” Catherine frowned.

“Well yeah, but that’s not the only thing.” Anne laughed humorlessly, rubbing her face with her hands. “Because then I feel bad about you.” Catherine stiffened, confused.

“Why?”

“Because…” Anne bit her lip, avoiding Catherine’s gaze. “Well, because...you know…” Anne fidgeted in her seat. “I’m proud of Lizzie. So fucking proud. Like, she did so much, and no matter how much history tried to dismiss her as a bastard child or witch’s daughter,” Anne paused slightly, her face souring at her own words. “She still managed to become one of the most influential queens in history. She did so much good. And at the end of the day, she got out of it with a good legacy. I feel bad because…” She hesitantly looked up at Catherine, then back down at the ground, “because history wasn’t as kind to Mary. She’s remembered for...well, you know...” Anne gestured vaguely, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Bloody Mary.” She finished lamely. Catherine sucked in another sharp breath, eyes flashing dangerously, a fire burning in her chest as she opened her mouth to respond.

“Jesus, what is your problem?” She spat back, cheeks flushed with anger. “Do you ever think before you say anything?” Anne shrunk back, before huffing angrily.

“What? You wanted to know? Now you know. Next time maybe you’ll keep your nose out of other people’s business!”

“Well sorry that I cared enough to ask! Remind me to let you wallow in self-pity next time!” Catherine yelled, and Anne sat back, lips drawn up in a strange sort of scowl.

“Don’t pretend like you care,” Anne said darkly. “Don’t fucking pretend like you care. You have hated me since the beginning, just for EXISTING. So don’t fucking pretend like you care.” Tears of anger and frustration were welling up in her eyes. Catherine stopped at that. Then blinked. Then opened her mouth to respond. Then blinked again.

“I…I do care, Anne.” Catherine felt her expression soften. Anne swiped angrily at the tears forming. “Maybe not...then. But I do now.”

“Yeah well,” Anne laughed bitterly, “It’s not like it matters.” Catherine felt the anger rise up inside her again, but she forced herself to respond evenly.

“In my defence, you were kind of shitty back then.” Anne snorted.

“Wow,” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks.” Catherine raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not going to give you a free pass just because it was five centuries ago. As much as I disliked Henry towards the end of our marriage, he was still my husband.” Catherine couldn’t help but let her voice slip towards a slightly accusatory tone, “You convinced him to get a divorce, married him, and sent me to a nunnery.” She snorted. “You wore yellow to my funeral.” Anne was quiet for a while. She had turned her head towards the street, her neck twisting just so, so that Catherine could catch a glimpse of the thick, red scar encircling Anne’s neck.

“I didn’t want to marry him,” Anne said finally, in a quiet voice.

“You...didn’t?” Catherine cocked her head to the side. Anne turned back to her.

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I mean, sure. What noblewoman doesn’t humour the idea of marrying true royalty? But c’mon, he was like a decade older than me.” She snorted. “I can recognize a creep when I see one.” Catherine stiffened at that.

“You know, he wasn’t so bad.” She murmured, almost to herself. It was Anne’s turn to stiffen up.

“Actually, yeah, he was.” Anne looked at her sharply. “He emotionally abused all of us. He was a shitty husband, a shitty king, and a shitty person.” Catherine rolled her eyes for the hundredth time.

“Goddammit Anne, do you ever shut up?” Anne flinched slightly.

“Sorry.” Her apology actually seemed genuine, so Catherine dropped it.

“I meant like before we married. And even a few years after. He was...classically charming.” Catherine smiled slightly at the memories. “I think that was before he realized his true power as king, and the...liberties it gave him.” Anne snorted.

“Cool backstory. Still a prick.” She paused, then looked Catherine directly in the eyes. “And anyway, I didn’t convince him to do any of that shit. Also...for the record?”

“Hm?”

“The whole...wearing yellow to your funeral? It wasn’t intentional.” Anne said sheepishly. Catherine tilted her head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Yellow is the colour of mourning in Spain, yeah?”

“Yes.” Catherine’s eyes widened slightly. “Did you…?”

“Yeah. Henry, of course, thought it was out of spite, and went along with it. But it wasn’t my intent to spite you.” Anne shrugged. “I wanted to pay respects as honestly as possible. I guess that was just the only way I knew how.” Catherine looked out to the street, leaning back on the bench.

“Huh.” She grinned after a while. “Well damn.” Anne grinned back. Then, after a moment of silence, she slowly got up.

“I’m going to go back inside. Care to join?” Anne offered her a hand. Catherine stared at it for a moment, the smiled slightly but shook her head.

“No, I think I’m going to wait out here a bit longer.” She said firmly, although not unkindly. Anne nodded, retracting her hand and moving towards the door. “Oh, and Anne?” Anne paused, looking back at her.

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell anyone the truth about wearing yellow to my funeral.” She winked, resting her chin in her hand. “It’s funnier that way.” Anne smiled widely.

“Okay.”

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meli-productions · 7 years

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The History of Romance...

...Like It’s Course, Never Ran Smoothly.

So I didn’t know this was a THING until yesterday, and so of course I need to join in since...y’know, I’m utterly insane for all things Hey Arnold! And since I didn’t know about it on the first day I’m playing a bit of catch up.

My Shortaki Week Day One Prompt:

History

It was said that in time there were only so many passionate romances: Helen and Paris, Alexander and Hephaestion, heck, even the tragic Romeo and Juliet are listed among that loved that seemed so remote and ancient, like there would be no other love to match it.

But they were wrong.

“Love is doomed from the start,” mumbled Helga as she pushed away the book before her. She crossed her arms and slid back in her seat with a pout on her lips.

Phoebe turned to her, a frown on her delicate features, “What do you mean?”

“Romeo and Juliet are just like every other love story in the world--and yes, Pheebs, I know it’s a tragedy so I don’t know why Simmons keeps making us do this play over and over again,” Helga said, interrupting the smaller girl when she opened her mouth. “What I mean is that all these love stories are just that, tragic.”

She couldn’t help herself as her eyes wandered over to where Arnold was sitting. His face was scrunched up, concentrated on the words of the book in his hands while his fingers tapped an irregular rhythm on his desk.

Phoebe followed her gaze and a small and sad smile curled on her lips, “Oh, Helga, not every love story has to be that way.”

“Oh yeah,” Helga said, turning her face back towards her friend, “Name one.”

“Historically?”

Helga rolled her eyes, “Historical, fictional, actual, any that would make me believe that love is actually a good idea.”

Tapping her finger to her lip, Phoebe stared at her friend for a few seconds, her eyes piercing into Helga’s blue until the girl was squirming in her seat, tugging at the hem of her dress.

“Guinevere and Lancelot.”

“Didn’t Guinevere end up going to a nunnery and Lancelot…y’know, dead? Or something of that sort.” asked Helga.

“Odysseus and Penelope,” continued Phoebe, still tapping her lip. “He travelled for twenty years just to make it back home to her and she waited for him because she knew he was alive.”

“He also romanced half the women he met on the way and only stayed for a night before he was itching to leave again,” Helga scoffed and crossed her arms again.

“Victoria and Albert.”

“She became so distraught after his death that she would barely ever make public appearances,” Helga said with a shake of her head, “Face it, Pheebs, they all end in tragedy of some sort.”

“What about Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy?” asked Phoebe, knowing that the girl had read the thick tome of prose. Her eyes slid back over to Arnold who had dropped the book and started talking with Gerald, “Sounds a bit like reality, even if they weren’t.”

Helga frowned and looked at her, following her gaze as she saw that it wasn’t focused on her then she frowned, “What are you implying, Phoebe?”

“Oh, nothing, Lizzie.”

Helga’s scowl returned to her face and her arms tightened around her chest, “I know you have some sort of page long argument so just hit me with it, alright?”

“Historically, love ends in tragedy, I get that,” Phoebe said, steeping her fingers together. “And Shakespeare monopolized that market. But sometimes tragedy happens before the love,” she stopped, face softening as Arnold looked over at Helga and gave a sheepish wave, “and love is what’s supposed to help them heal.”

Helga’s scowl melted away as she shot Arnold a quick smile before turning back to Phoebe, “So…tragedy before the love.”

Phoebe shrugged, “Makes the love a whole lot sweeter and rewarding. Besides, not everyone can be a couple of soulmates that find each other at the age of, oh, I don’t know, three.”

“You’re a big ol’ romantic softie, y’know, Pheebs?” Helga said after a few minutes, reaching over to grab her book.

With an eye-roll and a snort, Phoebe followed her actions, “Yeah, sure. I’m the romantic softie.”

The two girls sat in the silence of their classroom for a few minutes, the sound of stiff pages turning and tapping as the only sounds that echoed between the rows of desks. Then Helga sighed and turned to Phoebe again.

“Thanks Pheebs.”

“Anytime.”

#shortakiweek #day one #hey arnold #shortaki #writing #my writing #i'm late because i didn't even know this was a thing #and i regret nothing except the rush i was in to write this and catch up #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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wildknight · 5 years

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#album4work Songs of Drink & Revolution - Lizzie Nunnery and Vidar Norheim 🎶🎧 https://www.instagram.com/p/B2vnvCvnEq4/?igshid=99s68o4wia27

#album4work

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richardcfyork-blog · 7 years

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I’ll start with his brother Edward, the other Prince in the Tower. Edward was three years older than his brother and, in a way or another, he spent the most time with him. The two Princes were the favourite children of their father. Dickon and Ned went together through the good and the bad. Under Edward IV’s reign and in the Tower of London, where he joined him one month after.

His half brother Thomas Grey was waaay less close to Richard than other siblings because he was the oldest. In the first years of Richard’s life, Thomas Grey was busy with marriages. In the year 1474, Anne Holland died , then he had to marry another woman, Cecily Bonville. He visited the Princes from time to time During the Reign of Richard III, Thomas joined the rebellion of Buckingham after the rumors of the death of the Princes in the Tower, fled to France where he joined Richmond, Henry Tudor. Soon after Richard reconciled with Thomas, he was summoned to return to Engand After Henry VII became King, Thomas changed his allegiances a few times First, he joined the Yorkists in their will to restore the throne , then changed his mind and stayed loyal to Henry VII. He probably was influenced by Elizabeth of York, or was too involved with his titles and estates to risk. Richard Grey was the other half brother of Richard. Dickon was the first one who offered little Richard a wooden sword He was very close to Richard and Edward. Sadly, Richard of Gloucester arrested Richard Grey and his uncle Anthony Woodville, in the year 1483. Once the Duke of Gloucester became Richard III, Richard Grey was executed with his uncle Anthony Woodville. Prince Richard was very affected by the loss of his uncle and his half brother and didn’t eat for 3 days. Elizabeth of York . This relationship was very complicated. Elizabeth took care of her younger siblings when their governess was not around for she was the eldest child of Edward IV. Elizabeth used to sing songs to them when they were very little. She changed their clothes and read poems and texts to them. Also, she helped her mother take care of the girls when they took sanctuary under Richard III’s reign, at Westminster Abbey. Elizabeth has been very affected by the arrest then disappearance of the boys. Many people who knew Elizabeth Woodville’s family said that Elizabeth was the most affected. Being the mother of two Tudor boys under Henry VII’s regn and the Queen of England made Lizzie take allegiances to her husband and family. Cecily of York was quite jealous of Lizzie because she was the first born and was meant to become Queen. She was closer to Edward than Richard because Edward was almost 1 year younger than her. Cecily had a very active life at court, though she embraced the idea of Richard defeating Henry and taking the crown, even if she did not make her beliefs official, for her own comfort. Anne of York was two years younger than Richard and Richard liked to give a hand of help to his older sisters and take care of his sister Anne. Anne had sympathy for her brother Richard (even if she didn’t have an active link to the supporters of the Yorkist faction), hence the reason why her husband Thomas Howard did not succeed the Earldom of Surrey or the dukedom of Norfolk until late. Catherine of York was born in the year 1479, one year older than Bridget. Richard was in the Eltham Palace when his mother Elizabeth Woodville gave birth to Catherine and entered the room happily when his sister was born. Catherine was four years old when the Princes disappeared and cried a lot. She was a supporter of the Yorkists and offered a hand of help to Yorkists. Bridget of York was born in the year 1480, when Richard was only seven. Sadly, there was no much connection between them because Richard disappeared in 1483. Bridget was young when she was sent to nunnery. She has heard about Richard from the people in Kent and read about him from her sister’s letters, but they didn’t meet.

#headcanon

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