#anne and maggie are cracking up

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Look! A Thing!

New Instalment this week! It's a web serial about broken people by a broken author on a broken website! I'm just yelling about it as hard as I can while everything burns down around me!

And the site itself!

You like obscure and indie? Just lookit these numbers!

Current known readers: 3 (hi!), 1st Goalpost: 10?

Current supporters: 2 (hi Kith and 5th!), 1st Goalpost: 5?

If you click this and you like it, you have the power to bring two of your friends and double my admitted readership! Hurry! Before success spoils me!

And I'm super distracted, so let me just snip an excerpt from today's thrilling chapter for your feed-friendly perusal!

Ann put up a hand. She drew Hyacinth farther from the door and lowered her voice, “John kidnapped Erik because they needed help and they knew we wouldn’t let him do this. Erik has been helping the Rainbow Alliance save coloured people and get them the hell out of this fucked up country, because Prokovia wants them dead, or… or worse…”

“De-magicked,” Maggie said. She took a sheet of paper off the bed. “It’s an apograph. Most of ‘em are, but you can read ‘em in the mirror. This is the important part. This is what Prokovia wants to do.” She held up the paper so both of them could see. It was divided into four equal parts, all of them moving and displaying text and images at once. “This is what happens when you try to take the magic out of an immie.”

In each quadrant there was a brief, animated snapshot, five seconds at most, followed by backwards text and further still images. They cycled endlessly, somewhat out of sync, as if whoever set them in motion had activated them one after the other, going clockwise from the top left.

The figure at the top left was a milk-white young man with threads of blond in his matching white hair. His complexion had the look of a broken mirror, with cracks running in every direction, except they weren’t open or bleeding. They were what Hyacinth couldn’t help thinking of as a normal human skin tone, but pale tan certainly wasn’t normal for this guy. He was smiling vaguely, almost vacantly, and holding politely still while the person with the camera moved to photograph him from either side. There was a round scar on each temple, just below the hairline.

The scowling blue woman to the right of him had a similar pattern across her face and bare shoulders, just a bit more fair. Her mirror had shattered more violently — there were patches of fair skin between some of the cracks, as if some of the glass had fallen out. She had a set of yellow hands holding her, and she was turning her head from side to side, not quite struggling but clearly uncomfortable. The five-second image ended with her swatting the camera and a split-second shot of a tile floor.

The orange child at the bottom left had no cracks at all, only patches, and much larger ones. The close-cropped hair suggested a boy, but it could have been either. Tears were welling in their eyes as they clutched a stuffed toy, curling their whole body around it and wincing from the camera’s flash. In the last two seconds, a brown hand intruded and gently nudged their head up, allowing a brief three-quarter profile view of a face with an olive-toned patch that included one dark eyebrow.

The final figure, another young man, did not seem to be coloured at all. His hair was dark, his eyes were blue, and his skin was fair. His hands were bandaged and bound to the chair he was sitting in. He was smiling, not unlike the other man, but his brief image also ended with the camera falling or being knocked over, for reasons unseen.

Honestly, the first thing Hyacinth thought was someone had painted up a bunch of coloured people for a weird theme party — except for the guy in the lower right. But then, as the image reset once more, she caught a thread of purple drifting across his face like smoke. It was gone so fast she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all.

“What the fuck…?” She tried to pause the image and rack it back, dragging her finger from right to left, but it didn’t respond.

Maggie sighed. “It’s an apograph.”

“Smart paper has a backlight,” said the General. “It makes excellent apographs. Mr. Green-Tara seems to have figured that out at some point and copied a great deal of information he was certainly not supposed to keep, or share.”

“He did it for us,” Ann said. She touched the pile with the cardboard on top, but left it where Maggie had abandoned it on the bed. “It’s not much to read, it looks like he wrote it in a hurry, but he knew we’d come for Erik. He’s been trying to put things together for us, the whole time. The Rainbows haven’t told anybody because they don’t know who’s safe to tell…”

“I am the lone holdout,” said the General, “in insisting our government would not be complicit in an attempted genocide…”

“But they must know something is happening,” Maggie said. “They have intel. They’re not stupid. At the very least they’ve seen the ads, and they must know they’re not getting a bunch of coloured Prokovian tourists. It could be they don’t know because they don’t want to know. If they find out, there’s no guarantee they’ll help, and all this evidence is enough to blow the whole rescue operation out of the water if they take Prokovia’s side. The Rainbows aren’t wrong about that.”

“I am willing to admit,” said the General, “that it would be difficult to sell another war at this point, especially one with Prokovia, politically speaking.” She lowered her voice to a snarl, “Although it would be the only appropriate response.”

[Read More on my Disintegrating Website!]

[Or Read Soldier On from the Beginning, that's probably a more sensible place to start!]

#tin soldier and soldier on #long post #free fiction #writers on tumblr #indie fiction #writblr #steampunk #dieselpunk #magic #harry potter alternatives #dramedy #anarchist fiction #socialist fiction #new reader drive #ocs #original characters #character development #potential sexymen! #if i seem desperate it's only because i am!

[authorstalker]

My March & April Reads

Winter Stroll, Elin Hilderbrand - I needed an easy, interesting read for a weekend with family, and this was perfect! My mom is also reading this series and we have fun talking about it together. Thank you, Queen Elin.

Aging with Grace: What the Nun Study Teaches Us About Leading Longer, Healthier, and More Meaningful Lives, David Snowdon - One of the many things I have in common with my pal Kerry is our fascination with nuns, so when I heard this book mentioned on a podcast, I put it on hold immediately. The title makes it sound like a self-improvement guide, but it's actually about Snowdon's findings after studying nearly 700 elderly nuns and their experiences with dementia and Alzheimer's disease. Now I'm making it sound like a bummer, but it's actually a fascinating, often uplifting read! I highly recommend it.

Hello Beautiful, Ann Napolitano - Warning: unless sobbing in front of strangers is your kink, do not finish reading this book in public. Recommended for fans of Little Women, basketball, and family stories.

Games and Rituals, Katherine Heiny - Katherine Heiny's writing is simply the best. Every story made me feel more human, made me crack up and tear up, put me back in touch with all of my past selves. This collection is a treat—get a copy for yourself, your sister, your mom, your best pal, the coworker you're trying to impress. All hits, no skips!

One Two Three, Laurie Frankel - A gift from my sister, thank you Cara! The story is told from the perspective of three sisters living in a small town that was destroyed by the local chemical plant; nearly everyone has cancer(s), birth defects, or dead parents. The most unbelievable detail is that the town was redesigned to be accessible for all of its wheelchair users—I wish we lived in that kind of country! I read this book shortly after the train derailment in East Palestine, Ohio, and......the government should pay for all of the residents to relocate and they should also cover their medical bills.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful, Maggie Smith - Her ex is trash and this book rules. Good for her!

#books #monthly reads #booklr #memoir #maggie smith #you could make this place beautiful #poetry #laurie frankel #one two three #east palestine #flint #katherine heiny #games and rituals #short stories #ann napolitano #hello beautiful #basketball #little women #david snowdon #aging with grace #nuns #alzheimers #elin hilderbrand #winter stroll #march #april

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

Another AU outline thing - this one for the Eye For 7 Eyes AU! This one has a mention in my Amphibia AU masterpost, and a short drabble, to its name. Lately my fixation on it has resurged, so I figured, why not flesh it out more?

Here it is:

When Marcy is possessed by the Core, her spirit is separated from her body. For a while, she sticks around Malga, keeping an eye on them and making sure they don’t do anything with her body that could damage it. A large chunk of this consists of Marcy hen-pecking, in a way, and pointing out exactly how an action could affect her every time the opportunity strikes - meanwhile Malga either ignores her or snaps back with we have not had a body in millennia; we will crack your neck as many times as we see fit, thank you. That sorta thing.

Marcy eventually catches wind of Sasha’s rebellion through the newts that make reports to King Andrias. Curious, she goes over to check it out, and discovers that Sasha can see her. Sasha still has complicated feelings towards Marcy, but listens as the spirit of her friend fills her in on her current state, and what Malga has been doing. The two catch up as much as they can, Marcy apologizes, and they reconcile a little.

Sometime before Commander Anne, Marcy decides to go back to Newtopia and find out as much as she can. During her visit, she finds the Core’s old body and makes an important discovery - she can possess machinery. Later, during an attack by Andrias’s robots, she’s able to jump into one of the Cloakbots and decides to keep it around for missions and the like. The frogs are a little weirded out at the aspect of having one of Andrias’s robots just. hanging around their resistance base, but are also content to know that Marcy is alive (more or less) - especially Maggie. She helps the resistance by infiltrating the robot forces Andrias sends.

When Anne comes back to Amphibia, she can also see Marcy, and is very relieved she’s alive. Just like she did with Sasha, Marcy apologizes and fills Anne in on her situation and everything else she knows. The episodes involving missions play out a little differently, what with Marcy doing infiltrations and all. She’s also there for Olm Town Road/Mother of Olms.

In Beginning of the End, Anne and Sasha aren’t blindsided by Malga’s existence, but they are by the fact that the being knows practically everything Marcy knows - a fact they cleverly hid from Marcy herself, back when their host’s spirit was keeping an eye on them.

During the events of All In, Marcy uses her Cloakbot disguise to sneak into the palace with Sasha, then she slips out of it - and into the Core’s original body. The fight in the Core control room ends up being Sasha and Marcy against Malga. She wields the Core’s former vessel against it as a jab, as an act of defiance, like - you stole my body? all right, that’s fine, I’ll just steal yours. After the battle, Marcy’s spirit leaves the huge orb and returns to her own body.

#amphibia #amphibia au #amphibia marcy #Marcy wu #tidesoul sunbeam #amphibia the core #malga wu #i’ll be waiting in your favorite cheshire grin #an eye for seven eyes au #random snippets of my day #tw possession mention #tw injury mention

[samreviewsmovies]

Spencer

Year: November 5, 2021

Director:  Pablo Larraín

Screenwriter: Steven Knight

Actors: Kristen Stewart; Timothy Spall; Jack Farthing; Sean Harris; Sally Hawkins 

Production Company: Komplizen Film, Fabula, Shoebox Films, FilmNation Entertainment

Synopsis: The marriage between Princess Diana and Prince Charles has long since grown cold. Though rumors of affairs and a divorce abound, peace is ordained for the Christmas festivities at the queen's estate. There's eating and drinking, shooting and hunting. Diana knows the game, but this year, things will be profoundly different.

Rating:

IMDb: 6.7/10

Rotten Tomatoes: 83%

My Rating: 7.5/10 

Platform: DVD

My Thoughts: I liked this movie. My mother, a fan of Princess Di, very much did not. She said that this movie made her seem to “be crazy, a nut,”  and that “the palace must’ve given it’s support to this movie.” She got up to do the dishes rather than sit and watch the movie all the way through. 

I thought that the movie, while fictitious, was a sympathetic look of what could happen to a woman in her position. Her husband is cheating on her, everyone knows, and nothing will be done. She’s stifled by the crown’s rigidity, a normal girl who wasn’t properly prepared for the life that awaited her. Diana already suffered from bulimia and anorexia. It would not be surprising if the pressure and unhappiness of the situation, would have given way to something more serious.

It’s more of a character driven piece of ‘what-if’ or ‘could have been’. Even if the these events did not happen in real life, l think the movie did a great job of creating a tense, desperate, cracking up mood. And we are guided by what we know of history and how the staff treated her, for our exasperation and sympathy to have an outlet. I’m sure that feeling isn’t unfamiliar for many with families with difficult members.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge the characters in this movie. We see very little of the royal family. Besides the Queen and Charles (and a speaking point for Princess Anne) and William and Harry, the royal family is seen, not heard, if they are even seen at all. The lens of the camera is focused on Diana and primarily three members of the staff, each portraying the various levels of concern and sympathy. 

We have Maggie, who is Diana’s confidante, her most loyal solider. She cares about Diana, not the crown. We have Major Gregory, who is the voice of the crown in this movie. He enforces the rules, his loyalty is not to a person but to an ideal. But even though he might be Diana’s antagonist of sorts, he is not entirely uncaring towards her. He tries to bridge the gap between them, but they never come to an understanding of each other, their relationship a metaphor for the much larger fight between Diana and the royal family. And then we have the head chef. Who is the most distant from Diana, but clearly cares for her in the way that he can, through food. He just wants Diana to eat and be healthy, and yet this angle, the ties that bind these two, are probably the most heartbreaking. Throughout the whole movie, Diana doesn’t beat her eating disorders. 

No matter their stance, I liked all of the members of the staff, (the head chef was my most favorite) and their different levels of care. Even at their most antagonistic, like with Major Gregory, none of them were unsympathetic and unlikeable, compared to the sub-zero temperatures of the Queen’s view of Diana. 

Kristin Stewart did a fine job acting in this piece, I can see why she won several best actress awards for this film. I really sympathized for her version of Diana, one that we’ve not got to see quite like this before. Pain, frustration, helplessness, and anger. Doe eyes but when it came down to it, she had a spine. I think the only thing that didn’t work for me was the voice and accent. I’m not a native of the UK so I can’t say how accurate it was or anything. There was something personally that I didn’t care for but that doesn’t detract from Stewart’s acting. 

I would call this almost an art film with it’s cinematography consisting of long, slow shots. The heavily reliance on music to set mood. The scene were Diana eats her pearls, only for the whole scene to be entirely in her head, and the use of metaphors between Ann Boleyn and the runover pheasant at the beginning of the movie. It’s not a movie for everyone, like my mother for instance, but I don’t mind these kinds of films, and to me, it was a good movie. 

#spencer #pablo larraín #steven knight #kristen stewart #timothy spall #jack farthing #sean harris #sally hawkins #komplizen film #fabula #shoebox film #filmnation entertainment

[starlightswitch]

A Night Out

(for Writer's Month day 21 prompt at a bar)

Maggie got the password from her sister, who had been to the speakeasy once at the end of her senior year. Everyone wanted to go right away, so they went the first weekend after they got back to school. And Lia and Shannon, who had boyfriends, didn’t want them to be left out, so Connor and Jay came along.

Maggie gave the password and they showed their IDs and got in, giggling that they still weren’t used to how chill it was getting in when you were really 21. Most of the tables were taken, so some of them sat at the bar and the rest clustered around.

“I don’t know what any of this is,” said Shannon, shoving the menu at Jay. Lia thought she saw the bartender give Shannon a look. Jay studied the menu and ordered for both him and Shannon. Connor kind of looked at Lia, but Lia felt like she could pick something from the descriptions even though she hadn’t heard of any of the drinks either. She picked a Pendennis, and it was pretty good. Connor got a Queen Anne and liked his too.

Lia wasn’t sure if they would get more drinks because the prices were pretty high, so she drank hers slowly. The others did not seem to have such worries. They all finished their drinks pretty fast and got a second round. They started drinking those fast, too, and that was when they started getting loud.

When Maggie almost fell off the stool, the other girls really cracked up. Maggie started loudly declaring that she was fine, and then she announced, “I swear to drunk I’m not God!” They had told Maggie that joke was not as funny as she thought it was. When she started making it anyway, she definitely was drunk.

“Kids don’t know how to drink,” said the woman sitting next to Connor on the other side from Lia. She was talking to the guy sitting on her other side.

“It’s not like there’s a trick to it,” Connor told her. Lia always got a little embarrassed when he talked to random people who weren’t talking to him, but then he’d point out that was how he’d met her. Which she couldn’t really argue with.

The woman kind of snorted. “Depends on what you mean by a trick. All you have to do is know your limits.”

The guy on her other side lifted his glass toward Connor and Lia almost like he was toasting them before taking his next sip.

Lia felt a little undeserving, since the only limits she’d been thinking about were money. She didn’t like being judged as better than the others. But at the same time… she’d always assumed in the back of her mind that they could only have this kind of fun night while they were in college. She’d never seen people clearly years out of college at a bar like this.

She could see her and Connor going to a cool bar like this five or ten years from now, when they had enough money to have as many drinks as they wanted, sitting side-by-side like they were now but with rings on their hands. That thought she liked.  

-

2020 day 21: The Ones You Love (family)

2021 day 21: A Slice of the Future (pizza)

2023 day 21: A Reason to Fight (pain + lost heir)

#writersmonth2023 #my writing

[thefoxsisters527]

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞The Impact of The Fox Sisters∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

The Fox Sisters were well known, prominent figures within the Spiritualist Movement. Despite being frauds and even admitting to it themselves, their impact was huge and despite what most historians claim, was practically the start of the Spiritualist Movement. The day of the start of their hoax, November 14th, 1849, would have more of an effect than they would have ever known.

It all began in Hydesville in Wayne County, New York. The Fox family moved into a farm, where in the following year, rumors began to spread through the neighborhood about peculiar sounds that troubled the family in the night. Thuds and cracks loud enough to awaken them from their sleep. And the sounds seemed to almost follow two of the sisters, Maggie and Kate Fox. It wasn’t long until their mother, Margaret Fox, became convinced something demonic was afoot, and sent her husband to retrieve help from the neighboring townsfolk.

This was the start of Maggie and Kate’s spiritual rappings, which was encouraged and fully believed by their eldest sister, Ann Leah Fox, who mainly went by Leah. Leah and her mother fully believed the other two’s spiritual rappings and their ghostly communications. However, despite their spiritual rappings being admitted as fake through the noises they made being from them cracking their toes, their influence over the Spiritualist Movement is one that is far from forgotten.

By 1850, despite the sister’s being admitted as frauds, Spiritual Rappings had become an overall frequently done practice. Mediums were popping up everywhere, doing their own version of what the sisters had started, and bursting into popularity. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of people in America claiming to have a similar gift as the Foxes, and even more than one hundred in New York City alone. Spiritualism was rising quickly in popularity, and wasn’t seen as some creepy or evil practice either by the majority. It was actually seen as a respectable, intriguing practice, helping people avoid the inevitability of the unknown fate of death. Everybody was popping up with their own experiences with spirits.

Now, what overall impact did Spiritualism and the Fox Sisters have one the world? Well, it was quite a big one. Spiritualism has heavily affected our ideas of religion and society as we know it. Spiritualism led to the beginning of many more supernatural aspects of religion, especially ghosts and mediums that can speak to them. It also popularized religion even further, introducing new concepts and purposes to religions, and even causing the creation of some religions. And we all know the impact religion had and still has on society itself! So, it is clear that The Fox Sisters left an overall large impact on Spiritualism and the world as we know it.

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Imagine tour!Joan jamming out to old school songs like So What and Dynamite while alone at the theater early one morning and the music is so loud she doesn’t hear the others come in and stare at her while she dances and sings along to the song

#aragon and howard are very endeared #anne and maggie are cracking up #cleves is def recording #jane is like ‘i dont know who this is’ #six the musical #uk tour six #six concept #tour joan on the keys #tour catherine of aragon #tour catherine parr #tour anna of cleves #tour anne boleyn #tour jane seymour #tour maria on the drums #tour maggie on the guitar #tour bessie on the bass

[wlwinry]

okay. fuck. y’all know im sad nate died but i can’t stop thinking about his funeral yknow. about the people who show up to say goodbye.

obviously, there’s the team. there’s always the team. it doesn’t feel real that he’s gone, that nathan ford could fall to something as seemingly mundane as a heart attack. he brought them together. he was their family. and now he’s just--gone. 

then there’s tara, and part of why she shows up is just to support sophie, but...nate was never really her friend, but he was her team, someone who she worked with for better or worse. for better, she thinks. she’s a grifter, not a bleeding heart, but...he showed her something new. which is rare. and like the crew, it’s hard to believe he’s really gone.

maggie--oh, god, maggie. maggie isn’t surprised, somehow, but it still cracks her heart open. she knows he’s with sam, that if there’s anywhere they go after the end then nate will find their son, but she also knows he didn’t want to leave sophie, or parker and hardison and eliot. she still loves him, even if it’s not in the same way. the gravestone is too bare, too empty for all that he meant to his people. to her.

linda and tonya, the nurse and her daughter from the cross my heart job, show up. joshua, who she’s kept in touch with, writes a letter to the man he remembers seeing in a window coming out of surgery, the man who fought for his heart. the letter is laid at the gravestone. linda thanks him for...everything, really.

cora mcrory, owner of mcrory’s bar, is crying when she comes. she’s older now, but she still remembers her “uncle nate” dropping everything to help her when she had no hope left, still remembers the odd hours he kept and the staff who asked only to receive a firm answer from her of, “he’s doing good.” and he was. even if nathan ford wasn’t a nice man, wasn’t even a good one sometimes, he did good in the world. 

robert perry arrives with flowers. he’s not sure why--funerals are supposed to come with flowers, he thinks, which is stupid, he’s seen too damn many of them, but nate ford took him seriously and helped him and took down castleman and he has a life back because of that. and now the man who helped him get his life back is gone. it’s just...it feels hollow.

anne and jenny sanders come to honor the man who got justice for anne’s husband, jenny’s father. nate believed them. nate did what the courts, what the law couldn’t. jenny leaves a teddy bear at the gravesite.

a well-dressed, beautiful woman shows up, a vicious bullet scar visible in her shoulder. she waits for a long moment, before kneeling before the gravestone and murmuring, “ciao.” she leaves--she should not mourn, but she does, somehow.

sterling shows up to the funeral, but doesn’t say a word, hovers in the back. he comes back in the middle of the night a month later, traces the letters of his friend’s name. his enemy’s name. “goodbye, nate,” he says finally. “if anyone’s earned their eternal rest, i do suppose it’s you.

“thanks for making it interesting.”

#leverage #leverage: redemption #okay to rb #james sterling #nate ford #tara cole #the italian

[microficmay]

Image by Lindsay Ann Learning 2020

Microfiction: Tips & Tricks

Writing flash fiction may seem like a walk in the park, but it's definitely a lot harder than it looks. Fitting an impactful story into a couple hundred, 100, or even 50 words can be troublesome, frustrating, or just downright inconceivable. Therefore, in honor of Microfic May starting soon (AHHHH), we thought we'd share some useful advice for helping you write the best microfiction possible. Why use more words when few words do trick?

Examples

For sale: baby shoes, never worn. —Ernest Hemingway

He showered her with roses, but never asked her favorite flower.  —Dandelions, Actually by R. Gatwood

“Holes. You were supposed to make holes in them.” —My One Day at the Donut Factory by Bart Van Goethem

Exactly like her mother, who taught her the secrets of the profession, she patches together the cracked axles of their obsolete time machines, and listens to all of their tall tales, and raises her daughter alone in the house on the hill. Maybe a day will come and she’ll say to one of them—maybe the one who doesn’t remember that he already recited a Cummings poem to her, maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach to play one day; or maybe the one who always cuts himself more than once while shaving; or maybe to someone else, who still hasn’t arrived at her time—“If time travel were possible, nobody would stay in this time.” —The Woman Who Repaired Time Machines by Alex Epstein

Elements to Focus On

1. Emotion

Pick 1 primary emotion. Readers want to feel something, and with such a limited word count, that can be difficult. It's best for microfiction to just pick 1 emotion and extrapolate from there.

2. Conflict

Start in the middle of the conflict. In microfiction, there isn't time to go into a long back-story with side plots and descriptions galore. Cut right to the chase and start in the middle. Narrow down the conflict as much as possible. Information can always be implied instead of explicitly stated.

3. Character(s)

Limit the number of characters. No more than 2 characters is recommended. Remember, the more characters you have, the more words you need to add to describe them. Speaking of character description, give them a defining attribute (ex: a physical trait, peculiarity in the voice, enigmatic attitude). Make them memorable. If you name your character, keep it short to save on length.

4. Imagery

Use strong imagery. We've all heard the phrase Show Don't Tell, but it is particularly import for microfiction. For such a short story, it's also better to pick 1 or 2 scenes instead of multiple. Use emotion and conflict to set the scene(s). Paint a picture for the reader.

5. POV

Stick to one point of view. We suggest 1st person or 3rd person limited because they stick tightly to the protagonist, the better for conveying emotion or inner thoughts.

6. Title

Utilize your title. Relate it back to the story without giving away the ending. Try thinking up a couple of options on the spot. Usually the first option is not the best option.

7. Hook Ending

Make the last line count. At the end of the day, this is what the reader is left with to remember your story, and you want them to remember. Maybe it's a plot twist. Maybe it's a description of stunning imagery. Just make it resonate. Similarly, if your story is only one sentence long, you can still give the reader something to think about long after they finish reading.

Writing Shorter

1. Start Long

Don't worry about length on the first draft. Get it all out, however many words that may be, then go back and edit edit edit.

2. Adjectives and Adverbs

Be critical of adjectives and adverbs. Do you really need them? Can you replace them with a stronger noun or verb instead? For example, change "she screamed loudly" to "she screamed." Since screaming is already a loud action, we can delete the adverb. Another example, change "he walked angrily" to "he stomped." Find out more about writing with strong verbs HERE.

3. Articles

Cut articles (a, an, and the) from your story. Most of them are unnecessary and don't add anything to the overall plot. If you can find ways to cut them out, you free up a couple of extra words.

4. Filler Words

Similar to articles, consider cutting filler words from your story. Some examples are that, really, very, then, just, and any version of seemed, thought, realized, or felt.

5. Sentence by Sentence

Once you have the main ideas down, go sentence by sentence and see what you can edit. Paying attention to the bigger picture is great and all, but let's be honest. Your story isn't that big, so each sentence is vitally important. Try going line by line to polish it up.

And that's it...

We hope some of these tips and tricks are helpful. Many of them can even be useful when writing longer works of fiction. Because isn't a novel really just a collection of shorter scenes woven together?

If you're interested in trying out those microfiction writing skills, Microfic May is only 5 days away!!! You can view this year's Prompts or check out the Guidelines and FAQ for more info.

And if that's not enough, here are 62 more flash fiction story prompts for inspiration.

Happy writing!

Sources: Flash Fiction: How to Write Mini Short Stories How to Write Micro-Fiction Stories in your pocket: how to write flash fiction 13 Tips for Writing Flash Fiction How to Teach Micro Fiction Like a Pro

← Previous: Fest Announcement | Next: So It Begins! →

#microfiction #writing tips #microficmay #microficmay2022 #mod post

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Read Tin Soldier! One-a-Day on Tapas this week! Thursday's Instalment:

Let's try with the illustration AND an excerpt!

Illustration: A set of lungs wrapped in the chain of an oval locket. The locket displays pictures of Alba and Mordecai, being silly.

[PSI-3]

“Well, let’s see now, is there anything missing?”

There were several sheets of coloured paper bedecked with crayon drawings spread over the bedroom floor. Ann had obligingly rolled back the rug to provide more drawing surface. They were comparing a yellow one and a pink one side-by-side, the three of them kneeling and examining with their hands on the floor.

Maggie could already see what Erik got wrong, but it didn’t matter if she saw it. He was the one who wanted the help.

Erik looked back and forth between the papers with a grave expression. The bird was on both, and the duck, and the cat (last time he forgot the cat), and the grass, and the pond, and the tree. Maggie’s tree had leaves and his didn’t, but he didn’t think that was missing, they just thought of different trees. He couldn’t remember anything in the story about leaves.

“No,” he decided.

“Yes, I think that looks about right to me too,” Ann said. “Maggie?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Now, is there anything different?”

That was where Erik had lost the plot, and they both waited to see if he could find it. It took him a moment, but he finally pointed at his bird. His bird was on the ground and Maggie’s was in the tree, and he knew his was the wrong one because that was how this worked.

Ann had the music open on the floor beside her. “Erik, do you remember why, or do you want the story again?”

He held up one finger, still studying the pages. He had this. He was on top of this. “It’s the cat,” he said, touching it. “The cat scared the bird.”

“That’s exactly right!” said Ann. And it was also, she noted, a lot more words than he’d been using when they tried this without crayons. He wanted to understand the story and he had asked them to help him with it. It was just very hard to understand if he understood the story when the only way he could tell you about it was talking.

Hence, crayons. Crayons were wonderful things.

“Do you want to put the bird in the tree or do you just want to hear the next bit?” she asked him.

He was frowning. He wanted to do the whole thing over again and get all of it right, but he also wanted to hear the next bit. He put a large black X over his bird on the ground, and put another one in the tree.

“Oh, honey,” Ann said painfully. “You didn’t have to do it like that…”

There was a light tapping on the door and it was pushed open a crack. “Ann?” It was Hyacinth on the other side.

“Oh, just a minute. Please excuse me.” Ann picked up the door, opened it, set it back down, got on the other side of it and closed it most of the way. “We’re having Peter and the Wolf in crayon,” she told Hyacinth softly. “He wanted some help with it. He can’t read,” she added, frowning. “Not even a little bit. Did you know that, Cin?”

Hyacinth shook her head, “But I thought it might happen. Sometimes it does. He might get it back, at least some of it. That usually happens too.”

Ann nodded.

“Is he upset about it?”

“I’ve distracted him!” Ann said proudly. She dropped her voice again, “But what about poor Em? Do you have him?”

“Yes…”

“Good job!”

“…but the police were a little rough with him.”

“Why? What did they do to him?”

“You’ll see it. Well, some of it’s under the clothes, but that’s just bruises. He’s having ice in the kitchen. I need to get him a clean shirt.”

“I don’t understand it at all!” said Ann. “Why did they need to do that? They put the handcuffs on him right away! Which is another stupid thing, if I may say so. He wasn’t fighting. They just wanted to stick him with something anti-magic. What was he going to do, I ask you? Make casserole at them? Turn their sugar into salt?”

“Ann, clean shirt,” Hyacinth said.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I’ll get it. They’ll notice me less.”

They didn’t notice her at all. “It’s wrong,” Erik was saying.

“Well, yeah,” Maggie said, touching the page. “But it looks like you’re mad about it.”

“I am mad about it!”

Ann passed the shirt through the door without opening it further. “Here, Cin.”

Hyacinth folded it over her arm. “Where did you tell him his uncle was? Just so we don’t mess it up?”

“Oh, I just said he was with you. Then he didn’t mind about it. He asked if we could do the story before he got back.”

Hyacinth made a puzzled smile. “That child trusts one of us, I’m not sure which.”

“That child trusts all of us,” Ann replied. “What lie are we telling him about how Em got hurt?”

“He fell down some stairs.”

“Which stairs?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll let you know as soon as we’ve decided.”

They had Peter and the Wolf in crayon (and Mordecai had ice in the kitchen) until Erik was more tired and annoyed than interested (so, not very much longer). Ann separated the drawings by author. Maggie took hers. Erik was disgusted by his at the moment, so Ann put them on the table with the music.

“I think your uncle would like to see them, anyway,” she said.

“He’s back soon?”

“I’m sure he’ll be back by the time you’re awake.”

He sighed and dropped his head back on the pillow. “Put the good one first.”

He meant the one where he got everything right. It was the first one, also the one with the fewest things in it: Peter, the meadow and the open gate.

Ann obligingly shuffled it to the front. Erik had drawn Peter purple, Maggie had drawn him brown. That was a difference, but the story didn’t have anything to say about what colour Peter was, so Ann called them both right.

“Erik? Do you want me to stay until you’re asleep?” She doubted he would want any more story, he wanted to be wide awake for that.

But he was already gone.

Keep reading? Pick your platform!

Tapas might conceivably help me pick up more readers, if you "like," subscribe, and help me battle the algorithm:

And my site has better formatting, and more stuff!

Still trying to drum up a community for my loyal, patient fans, so this is an experiment in posting things consistently. We'll see if that gets any traction with people/algorithms.

This here is an urban fantasy with a diverse cast of freaks, weirdos and losers, many of whom happen to be living in an abandoned building in a slum. Most of 'em also know how to do magic, which works kinda like hacking reality itself. People don't like that, in general, 'cos you might crash the whole system that way.

It's free to read and licensed with Creative Commons, because I'd like to crash this broke-ass system that publishes and profits from "intellectual properties." I may be foolish, but you get a free story either way, so come take advantage of it!

#tin soldier and soldier on #indie fiction #tapas story #writers on tumblr #free fiction #urban fantasy #situation dramedy #harry potter alternatives #found family #lgbtq characters #illustrated fiction #desperately seeking fandom #it's a goddamn magical world

[despiteherself]

what ur favourite ahkj side character says about you:

pancho: you’re a furry

willie: your doctor is giving u free handout of adderall bc ur broke ass couldn’t afford it otherwise

ted: as a child you wanted to be a cowboy when you grew up before you realised you’re scared of horses

horst: you secretly like taylor swift

hector: httyd2 was your least favourite movie of all time and you want people to stop asking you about it

dorothy: you subscribe to men’s magazines and pretend they belong to your boyfriend/husband/male dog

xixi: you know all the lyrics to the pina colada song

dr. s: you are also a furry. are they called scalies if it’s a snake? is that’s what’s going on?

rob mctod: you have an embarrassing crush on your best friend & they WILL definitely think differently about you if you told them

timo: a jock literally gave you a swirly in high school

mary Ann: you have girlboss gaslight gatekeep in modern calligraphy on your living room wall

butterfish: you don’t even bother to crack the window when you’re smoking weed in your work’s bathroom and literally everyone knows what you’re doing in there for like half an hour Jesus Christ man, you’re lucky the manager thinks you’re cute

tammy: you bully children at the playground because you have no life outside of babysitting your nephew and you call it “character building” when the police are called for the fifth time this week

todd: your parents & your kindergarten teacher got you professional mental help because you always painted only in black but it was literally just because that was the only colour left at the end of the day when you remembered that you actually wanted to paint

karl: you get upset that your ninety five year old grandfather doesn’t know what anime is

chauncey: you make vague posts on twitter about how rude it is to reply “kill it with fire” to any non conventional pet because you’re too scared to call people out directly

bruce: you’re trying to get your friends into investing in bitcoin

Trent and whatever the other dolphin is called: ok but seriously no one’s fave is the dolphins

king shark: you need scocophobia tagged

tentacle: you think your posts of rupi kapur poetry and like screencaps from pride and prejudice are high art

hans: you haven’t heard of deodorant

crimson: you have deep worries about the state of the earth, and how everything feels like it’s going to shit but you’re so overwhelmed by the state of all you just sort of do nothing and then like order doordash for the fourth time this week because your vegan boyfriend has cooked tempeh and seaweed for dinner again.

pam: you think anyone agreeing with someone else online and they follow each other is like, a secret cult

king joey: your favourite movie is wallace and gromit

karen: you are married to your childhood sweetheart, have three kids and a nursing degree

masakura: you think phoebe from friends is underrated and won’t stop telling people that

sage moondancer: you think you’re special because butterflies are your favourite animal and give unsolicited commentary about how you think they scream whilst in their pupa and present it like a real scientific fact

koto: idk some trump voter joke. #mmga

the crocodile ambassador: once you found a monogrammed handkerchief whilst op-shopping and you’re convinced it’s got your initials on it but really there’s a clothes moth hole and a weird stitch that doesn’t fit in and you throw a tantrum whenever one of your friends point this out

princess amy: you want your pet japanese spitz to be instafamous and you bully all your friends into liking and sharing all the photos you post

andy fairfax: you tell everyone you meet a different back story because the Heath Ledger joker is your icon and you will get into a fistfight with anyone who liked Joaquin Phoenix’ portrayal better

fred the giant scorpion: no one will watch movies with you because they hate having to explain that not every movie is a documentary

zora: you have a subscription beauty box addition and you won’t admit you need help

uncle king julien: you’re a simp for henry winkler and u know what? i respect that

grandma rose: you see a buff woman and you stan

butterfly queen: you unironically post “just because I’m beautiful doesn’t mean I’m not fierce” posts whilst you’re getting a manipedi and think that’s peak femininsm

prince barty: you think James Bond is a real man

princess julienne: you get mad when people think you “had” a superwholock teaboo phase. you’re still in it, it’s just called a dark academica now >:(

julien the terrible: as a child your friends dared you to eat a millipede and you did it but then they all called you millipede-breath and laughed about it and told everyone, and so you planned a years long revenge plan that you’re still slowly finalising to this day

becca: you have like ten brothers and you have to beat them at literally everything. you punch harder, spit farther, yell louder.

abner: you’re trying out a new clothing style and are disappointed that no ones noticed you look different

magic steve: you get mad when people can’t pick out the 42 ingredients you out into a soup you overpowered with garlic

brodney: you’re that sibling that’s like at least 10 years younger than your siblings so you know you were definitely a mistake and No! Of course it doesn’t affect you in any way! How dare anyone suggests that!

stanislove: you’re obsessed with the space race and goddamn i am SO damn sick of hearing about it

any of the pirates: you’re like 13

maggie the unwashed: you are literally 13 and you think fart jokes is peak humour

pineapple: you are allergic to strawberries and if you hear “oh, like pepper potts?” one more time you will commit murder and that just can’t happen because if you’re arrested then they’ll finally catch you for tax fraud

shrimp cocktail: your meat is huge

watermelon hawking: in your spare time you ponder the inner workings of the universe because you think it makes you seem very smart but the truth is no one literally has any idea what you’re thinking about so it’s not actually doing anything to impress anyone? if you’re gonna be like that why not at least ask fake deep questions to make sure everyone knows you think you’re big brained and you’re sure your name will be in history books.

wickman wilderbeast: once you beat an old lady at arm wrestling and you won’t let anyone forget

#not counting the four core & every single version of mort #also they have to have a name & king Joey is my limit of the rats ok #if I forget anyone rip there’s too many characters #I definitely have forgotten characters but ok #I’m tired it’s late #ahkj #shitpost #pot post

[millie1536]

98, angst Anne ? Love your work Angel ! ❤

I’m so so so sorry this took so long. Life got in the way but I do plan on getting through all the prompts in my inbox.

Prompt: I’ve had enough.

“I’m leaving the show.” Anne suddenly announced at dinner one evening.

“What?”

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

Along with half a dozen other questions were hurled at her.

“I just can’t do it anymore.” She told them.

“Did something happen?” Anna asked.

“Did someone say something to you? Because I will beat the shit out of them if they did.” Bessie added.

“No. No one said anything. I just need a change, plus it’ll be nice to have more time with Izzy.” Anne did her best to sound convincing but Bessie didn’t buy it.

Truth be told someone had said something. In fact a lot of people had been saying a lot of things. Things like;

“I love the show but why is Anne so hyper all the time?” And, “ten quid says Boleyn has ADHD.”

Unsurprisingly it had only gotten worse since she had adopted Izzy. She didn’t talk about Izzy much on social media or in interviews but it was difficult to drop her daughter off at school without someone recognising her.

“Who thought is was a good idea to let Anne have a kid? She can barely keep herself alive.” And so on. She knew they were just strangers on the internet but it still hurt. The worst one was perhaps this, “Wait until the kid realises she just a replacement for Elizabeth.”

Anne felt sick reading that one. Is that really what people thought? Is that what Izzy would think?

“Anne?” Aragon asked one morning, sitting beside Anne in the backyard, “What made you want to leave the show?”

“I told you,” Anne huffed, “I’m ready for something new.”

“I know that’s what you said but-“

“You think I’m lying?” Anne finished.

“It’s just you always have so much fun out there.” Aragon reminded her.

“Yeah, because there’s nothing more fun than singing and dancing about my own death and there’s nothing better than watching my baby cousin relive a heap of trauma. So much fun.” Anne’s sarcasm was missing it’s usually light and humorous tone. Instead it was sharp and angry. Aragon sighed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how much it got to you.”

“No, you didn’t, because I’m not allowed to let people know how much it fucking hurts.” Anne snapped before storming into the house.

Maybe they were right. Maybe she was too immature to raise a kid. Maybe Izzy would grow up to resent her. What if she already did?

“Annie,” Katherine said gently, snapping her cousin out of her thoughts, “Catherine told me what you said. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t apologise,” Anne told her firmly, “You have every right to share your story and it’s not your fault that I find it hard to listen to.”

“Is that why you’re leaving?” Katherine asked, “because of me?”

“No. I’m leaving because it’s time for me to stop. I’ve told my story. I’ve dealt with it. I have nothing more to gain from the show.” Anne lied, though she hoped her cousin couldn’t tell.

Over the following days everyone attempted to convince Anne to stay but none succeeded. It wasn’t until two weeks later that Anne finally came clean.

“You want to know why I’m leaving?” She asked during yet another awkward dinner, “It’s because I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of being the ditzy gremlin, I’ve had enough of people thinking I can’t look after myself and I’ve had enough of people saying I’m not responsible or mature enough to look after Izzy. I thought people would realise it was just a persona but they haven’t. I’ve gone from being an evil temptress to being an unfocused, hyper child in an adults body. I can’t do this anymore.” When Anne finished she was breathing heavily and Katherine noticed the subtle signs that her cousin was close to crying.

“None of us see you like that.” Jane eventually broke the stunned silence that had fallen over the room.

“We’ve seen how smart and witty you are. We know you’re not immature.” Anna added.

“But they don’t,” Anne’s voice cracked slightly, “I know we always talk about how it doesn’t matter anymore what other people think and maybe it doesn’t but just because I know it doesn’t matter doesn’t mean I believe it. The last time someone thought I wasn’t good enough I was killed. It’s not as easy as just accepting it and moving on.” Once again the room was silent.

“Come on,” Katherine said gently after a few moments, “Let’s go upstairs.” Gently she lead Anne up the stairs and into the their bedroom. Only for Anne to fall apart the moment the door was shut.

Back in the kitchen the atmosphere was heavy.

“Good thing Izzy’s with Maggie and Joan.” Bessie broke the silence.

“What do we do now?” Cathy asked.

“I don’t know.” Aragon sighed.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Jane said, “Anne needs to do what feels right for her and we need to do what feels right for us.”

#six the musical #six #six fanfiction #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #anna of cleves #catherine parr #joan on the keys #maggie on the guitar #bessie on the bass #katherine howard

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 10

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some.  

Catch Up Here

Sunday, December 22 

As she walked out of her apartment in the early afternoon, she was met by a grinning Spot. Her eyes widened seeing him leaning against the steps of the apartment building. “Hi Spot! What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you twice in a week?” 

“Thought you could join me as I walk to work.” He pushed himself into a standing position, giving her a look, adjusting his bag, becking her to join him. “Jack sent me.” 

Her eyes brightened. “And Jack’s sending me to the hospital today?” 

“I guess.” Spot shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “He said that I was to deliver you to the hospital, give you the notebook, and you’d figure out the rest.” 

Hitching her bag higher up on her shoulder, she matched his stride. “Okay then. How have you been, Spottie? Ready for Christmas?” 

“Gotta work Christmas afternoon but that’ll be alright. Race and I will do our gift exchange on Christmas Eve and we’ll be at Medda’s Christmas morning with the crew.” He grinned. “Are you all ready? Will you and Jack be at Medda’s?” 

Shrugging, she avoided the patch of slushy snow by hopping over it, causing Spot to laugh. “We’re doing Christmas Eve with his family. I’m sure we’ll be at Medda’s at some point. Have to finish wrapping a few presents but I’m ready.” 

“In the Christmas spirit?” Spot looked over at her, watching her face for any signs she would be lying to him. 

Smiling softly, she quickly nodded. “I am. Jack’s helped with pulling all of this together.” 

“Good. Then his hairbrain plan actually worked.” 

Laughing, she shook her head. “Glad you approve.”

“It keeps him busy and from moping away the days in my apartment.” Spot grinned.  “It’s a good project for him . . .”

Stopping at the light, waiting to cross the street, Kat gave him a look. “So you know what he’s doing?” 

“I know more than Race knows because Race can’t keep his mouth shut.” Spot smirked. “But you’re not going to get anything out of me. Jack won’t hesitate to kill me if I tell you anything.” 

She grinned, looking at the ground. “He loves you too much to kill you.” 

“Oh, he may be my husband’s best friend and by extension, mine too but he won’t hesitate to kill me.” Spot’s eyes were wide with fear, though Katherine couldn’t tell if it was real or not.

As they neared the hospital, Spot pulled her to the side, reaching into his bag. “This is for you. You’ll need to go to the fifth floor after you read today’s entry.” 

“Am I looking for something in particular?” Kat accepted the notebook, looking up at Spot. 

He shook his head. “It’s all explained in there. I have to go or I’ll be late. I might see you later.” 

“Thank you Spot.” She grinned, giving him a hug. “Have a great day.”

He chuckled. “You as well, Kat.” 

She watched him jog into the hospital, leaving her in his haste. She followed him into the hospital, seeing the coffee shop to the right of her. She found a bench, opening the notebook to the correct entry. 

Hi Kat, 

Happy 10th day of Christmas, love.  I know the hospital is the last place you’d think you’d go for your holiday adventures but there’s two reasons I had you go there. For the first, you’ll need to go up to the fifth floor and find Maggie. She’ll be your guide for the first part. 

She’s waiting for you - so get going! 

Closing the book, she tucked away in her bag, she headed to the elevator, punching the up button. She tapped her toes, waiting for the doors to open, following several other people onto the elevator, pushing herself against the back of the box. She watched the number rise, before they stopped at floor 5. Excusing herself, she found herself outside of the elevator in a seemingly empty hallway. 

Hearing commotion, she headed in that direction. She saw two nurses standing in the middle of the hallway talking to one another. The one pointed at her, as the other looked over her shoulder, grinning. She quickly said goodbye to the other nurse before making her way to where she stood. “Hi Kat.” 

Margaret Anne Kelly, also known as Maggie, was Jack’s younger sister by 18 months. They were thick as thieves and on most days, best friends. Over the years Jack and Kat had been dating, she had grown really close to the younger girl. “Hi Maggie. So you’re in on this too, huh?” 

“Can’t say no to my older brother is more like it.” She grinned. “So how much do you know?” 

Kat shrugged. “All I know is that you’re supposed to be my guide for this first part. Jack didn’t give me anymore than that.” 

“Come on then.” She grinned, twirling on her toes, heading down the hallway. Kat walked quickly, trying to match her stride. “So Jack told me a little bit about what’s going on.” 

Kat grinned. “It’s amazing that none of this got back to me with all the people he’s told.” 

“Because he threatened to hurt us all if we spoke a lick of it to you.” Maggie grinned. “There’s a lot of elements that you probably don’t even realize in play right now. Jack is pretty lucky that all the pieces fell into place.” 

Kat tilted her head. “Just how many people are involved with this?” 

“Too many to name, besides, we have places to go and people to see.” She said, turning down another hallway. “Do you have all your Christmas shopping done?” 

Nodding, she looked at her. “I do, actually. Just have to finish wrapping it. You?” 

“Brendan and I are all done and it’s all wrapped and put under the tree.” She grinned, speaking of her husband. Brendan and Maggie had been married for six months. Jack at first didn’t like Brendan, as he was a male that was interested in his sister but soon relaxed and is really good friends with Maggie’s husband.  “Jack mentioned that you’ll be with us for Christmas Eve.” 

“Yea, your mom and Jack invited me over due to my family being scattered for the holidays.” Kat grinned as Maggie gently rolled her eyes. 

“It should be a good time. Brenden and I have to go to his parents house on Christmas morning but we’ll be at mom and dad’s Christmas Eve.” Maggie grinned while Kat laughed. 

Maggie came to a sudden stop, pulling Kat to her side. “So this is what Jack wants me to show you.” 

In front of her was a bright and color mural, a hot air balloon on it’s journey upward with lots of children standing below it. There were various shapes as balloons, in bright colors, pulling the basket upward. The sky was a bright blue and the grass was a bright green.  Her eyes were drawn to a red head amongst all the children. 

Kat tore her eyes from the stunning art to look at Maggie. “I don’t understand.” 

Maggie grinned. “Jack was commissioned to paint this. He worked with a lot of kids to get their input. It's to show the hope of children getting better, and as a reminder, on those tough days, that while we may lose some, we help a lot more.” 

Her eyes drifted to the painting once more. “When was this done?” 

“He’s been working on it for the last three months or so.” Maggie smiled softly. “We just had a ribbon cutting for it last week - I was surprised that you didn’t attend.” 

Kat shook her head, frowning. “I didn’t know. He never told me.” 

“I’m sorry Kat.” Maggie bit her lip, much like her older brother did when he didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure there’s a reason Jack didn’t tell you.” 

She pushed a smile to her face. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I’ve got something for you. Should we head back to the nurse’s desk?” Maggie suggested, giving the older girl a look. 

Kat followed behind Maggie as they made their way back to the elevators and the nurse’s desk. Kat’s mind was elsewhere, as many questions swirled around her brain that when Maggie came to a sudden stop, she had to stop herself from plowing into the nurse. 

She watched as Maggie leaned over the desk, grabbing something before looking at Kat. “Don’t be too hard on my brother. I’m sure he’s got his reasoning for what he did. But this is for you.” 

Handing Kat the box, Maggie smiled. “He mentioned that he wants you to read the notebook before opening that.” 

Giving Maggie a hug, Kat promised she wouldn’t be too hard on Jack. Waving goodbye to her, she made a quick escape to the elevator, heading back down to the main lobby.  She took a seat at the same bench as before. Grabbing the notebook, she cracked it back open, her eyes scanning the paper. 

So you know about the mural and me not telling you about the ribbon cutting. I’m sorry for not telling you but I actually had it planned for you to see it on this adventure and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.  I’m sorry if you think I didn’t want you there . . .and that’s further from the truth. It took everything in me not to tell you about the mural and what I was doing.  

So, there’s a backstory about the mural that no one but me and now you, knows. I used friends and family as the beginning sketches of the mural. But as I got painting, I wanted to represent all of the kids that step foot onto the fifth floor, the cancer wing. If you look close, you are in amongst the children as the redhead - had to put in the middle of it somehow.  So you, Katherine Plumber are enshrined in the Children’s Hospital forever and ever. 

She paused in her reading, wiping the tears away that had gathered at her eyes. She took a deep breath, calming her heart before continuing to read. 

So the second reason I brought you to the hospital is a story I think you know. I spent a Christmas up on the fifth floor, before it became the cancer wing. I had a really bad case of pneumonia when I was 7 and ended up spending 11 days in the hospital, all of which fell between Christmas and New Years. It sucked, to be honest. But I had a nurse that was really sweet and tried to spend a lot of time with me when I was in there - part of the reason Maggie became a nurse. Which is also why I spend a lot of time volunteering at the hospital, especially around the holidays. It sucks to be away from your family, no matter the time of the year, but especially at the holidays. I wanted to show you a little piece of me and why I’m there so often. Maybe next time you can join me?

Picking up her pen, she wrote a quick note in the book before flipping the page and continuing to read Jack’s scrawl. 

Maggie was supposed to give you a box . . . please tell me she remembered? 

If she didn’t, go get it from her . . . I’ll wait.  

Okay, so we’ve been down this path a few times now so you know that it’s your surprise. But the meaning behind it is special - go ahead and open it. 

Tearing off the paper, she tucked it away in her bag before opening up the box. Inside, nestled in the cotton was a silver star with a green emerald in the middle of it. 

So it’s a star - I could be really cheesy and say that you’re the star of my universe. But I won’t go down that path. 

Stars often mean divine guidance and protection.  You’ve been a great protector to me - you’ve protected my heart for the last 5 years. You’ve helped guide me and shape me into, hopefully, a man that’s worthy of standing by your side. So this star is symbolizing all of that and you’re the star of my universe. 

I love you, Katherine Plumber. 

Jack 

She giggled, shaking her head at her boyfriend. He was more than worthy to stand by her side, as he had proven time and time again over the last 5 years. She just hoped she was just as worthy to stand by his side. 

Closing the notebook, she looked up, scanning the lobby. Her eyes narrowed, watching a figure slowly sipping his coffee as he looked at her. Catching his eye, she watched him as he came closer to her. “Told ya I would see you later on.” 

“You said you might see me.” She stood, looking over at Spot with a smirk on her face. “Hanging out in the lobby waiting for me?”

“Well you need to give the notebook to someone.” He said, shrugging his shoulders, taking another sip of his drink. “Hand it over pretty girl.” 

Digging the notebook out of her bag, she gave it to him. “Jack’s definitely keeping me on my toes. Usually I have to hide it somewhere or he’s here to grab it.”

Spot shrugged. “He’s tied up at the moment or else he would be here.” 

“Is that a hint or something?” Her eyes went wide as Spot quickly shook his head. 

“No, nope, nopety no hint from me.” He continued to shake his head, looking at Kat with wide eyes. 

A grin stretched across her face. “Uh huh . . . like I’m supposed to believe that. So if he’s not here, where is he?” 

“He’s indisposed and unable to make it here.” Spot shrugged, nonchalantly taking another sip of his drink. 

Putting her finger in her nose, she looked at one of her best friends. “Something fishy is going on here and I intend to find out what it is.” 

“Nothing fishy at all.” Spot looked her dead in the eyes. “Turn off your reporter feelers and just go enjoy your afternoon.”

Kat nodded, giving him one last look. “Alright, since you’ve been so kind and great in this whole thing. I won’t push it . . . yet.” 

He quickly gave her a hug, kissing the side of her head. “Have a good afternoon Kat. I’ll see you when I see you.” 

She laughed, shaking her head before walking out of the hospital, into the cold. Spot watched her leave, before pulling out his cell phone, sending off a text. She’s starting to put on her reporter hat

All will be revealed in two days. What did you tell her?

Spot shook his head, sighing. Told her you were tied up today and couldn’t be here. 

Thanks Spot! And thanks for the heads up! 

Spot shook his head, hoping Jack could pull everything together in the upcoming days and she would soon figure it all out. 

#Newsies #Newsies Fan Fiction #Newsies Holiday Fic #writing #jack x katherine #Twelve Days of Holly Jolly Tidings

[dreamcatcherfication]

If I Say I’m Fine Enough Then I’ll Believe It

@nightingale6374 I’m back on my bullshit. (Okay but I named this fic a while ago, so does it really count???)

Hello everyone, and welcome to another episode of Anne angst. You guys really love Anne angst, I’m starting to learn. This was a mix of two prompts that just went too well together for me to resist. You can check them both out here, but the basic summary was that Anne has a heart attack onstage and the queens and audience witness it. I did a little research on heart attacks, but I can’t promise this is completely accurate. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this one shot! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, there are a thousand pigeons attacking me right now. 

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Heart attacks, general anxiety, mentions of beheading

Anne was fine.

Perfectly, A-okay, stable, and healthy. Fine.

The tightness in her chest wasn’t enough to stop her from performing, Anne kept assuring herself. All day Anne had been off, her chest feeling like something was crushing down on it, making it almost impossible to breathe. But she was on for the show tonight, and Anne refused to be stopped by some chest ache that probably meant nothing.

Joining the other queens for places, Anne adjusted her in-ear and stood in her position. Soon enough the ladies would start playing Greensleeves and she would put on her show persona. Jane shot her a glance and smiled. “You ready?” she gently asked.

Shrugging, Anne showed her teeth in a semblance of a grin. “Yup, never better.” If Jane noticed Anne’s strange behavior, she didn’t comment. 

Anxiously tapping her foot, Anne watched the ladies in waiting, begging for them to start the intro. Sure enough, the opening notes played and Anne sighed with relief. The tightness seemed to be fading as her body numbed slightly. She could make it through the show like this. It was only just over an hour, Anne could make it.

Entering the stage, Anne put up her mask. Her back was to the audience, thankfully, or they might have seen the grey ashiness that was taking over her face. Listening to the music start up was almost surreal for Anne. It felt like a faded melody in the back of her mind, and her body was only going through the motions of performing. She couldn’t even believe her body was keeping up with all the other queens as they moved around at what looked like the speed of light.

Her lines must have been lackluster, because the other queens started shooting her strange looks as they introduced the ladies. The audience wouldn’t be able to see it, but there was concern in Kat and Aragon’s eyes as they noticed the way Anne’s words seemed forced out. Cathy and Anna shared a look across the stage, but they kept silent. Jane furrowed her eyebrows at Joan, but the pianist could only mouth I don’t know lest Anne hear her through the in-ears. 

No Way seemed to pass quickly, the dance moving by in a blur for Anne. She was starting to grow nauseous, the tightness of her chest spreading to her limbs and her jaw. It would be incredibly hard to sing, she noted, but still pressed on. Her whole little intro went off without a hitch, Anne throwing in an extra high giggle in order to convince the audience that she was better than ever. Standing up, Anne stumbled on her feet but quickly recovered.

Singing the opening lyrics to her song, Anne went over the top, probably appearing like an overexcited teenage girl to the audience. But Anne knew if she let even a little bit of her facade slip, she would go tumbling down.

Making her way over to the side of the stage, Anne turned to look at her fellow queens. She almost cut off her song in the middle of the second verse when she saw their concerned faces. Why were they looking at her like that? Was something wrong? Ignoring it, Anne moved to center stage, her body slow and barely keeping up with the tempo. Her voice was cracking between syllables, and clearly people were starting to notice. “Anne?” she heard Joan in her ear.

“Sorry not sorry -” Anne managed to get out before her body seized up and she collapsed, limp on the floor. 

Immediately, Kat shrieked, dropping her character and rushing to her cousin’s side. The audience had gone completely silent, unsure of what was happening. Microphone discarded, Kat started to shake Anne. “Anne? Annie? What happened? Why aren’t you saying anything?” The poor girl was terrified, watching her cousin’s blank, empty face. 

For a moment, there was stillness throughout the entire theatre as Kat leaned over her unconscious cousin, eyes filled with tears. Then everyone sprung into action, all reacting at once. The four other queens scrambled over to Anne’s body, trying to see if they could get a response. Anna put a hand on Kat’s shoulder and tried to pull her backwards softly, trying to offer support for the worried teen. Jane was instantly at Anne’s other side, examining her face. Aragon and Cathy were standing over Anne together, not wanting to get too close and invade the girl’s personal space.

The audience was reacting terribly, having not expected something so unbelievable to occur. Many of the guests towards the back were trying to get out of the theatre, not knowing what had happened other than a performer seemed dead. A handful of the audience has pulled their phones out and were recording, documenting the events as they unfolded. But the majority of the audience was talking frantically as they watched the queens for any sign of what to do.

The ladies in waiting were the real saviors. Maggie ripped off her guitar and scrambled towards one of the audience members, asking, “Can I use your phone?” Maria and Joan scrambled backstage to look for anything to help Anne while Bessie moved to join Maggie and crowd control. The person Maggie was talking to fumbled for their phone, getting it out and handing it over to the lady. Maggie quickly dialled 999 and waited for a responder to pick up.

Kat had fallen backwards into Anna, gripping her arm. The older queen was holding her friend tight against her chest, making sure she had someone to hold onto. Maria and Joan returned with a couch pillow that they slipped under Anne’s head to better support her. Kat mumbled something, but Anna couldn’t make it out over the cacophony of sound the audience was making. “Say that again,” she rubbed Kat’s shoulder, trying to make the girl feel safe.

“Is Anne going to be alright?” Kat mumbled, slightly louder this time.

Anna didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep, so she told Kat the truth. “Honestly, I don’t know. But Anne’s a fighter, and whatever it is, she won’t go down easy.”

Kat nodded and sunk further into Anna’s arms. Her eyes never left Anne’s prone form, but her breathing slowed down, if only by a little bit.

On the other hand, Jane was very much still freaking out. Cathy had migrated over to her side and Aragon was talking with Maria and Joan by Anne’s head. “Why did we let her go on?” Jane’s face was turning white like Anne’s ashen one. “We should have noticed something -”

“But we didn’t,” Cathy cut her off. “What Anne needs right now isn’t regrets, okay? She needs you to be strong and ready to help her when she needs it.”

“I can do that,” Jane glanced at Cathy. “We can do that.”

“Yes we can,” Cathy agreed, taking Jane’s shaky hand in hers. It was only a small source of comfort, but it worked in the moment. “Things will be fine.”

Aragon couldn’t help but overhear Cathy and Jane. She sighed, itching at her big costume. It wasn’t the ideal clothes for a moment like this, but that wasn’t something she would complain about. None of this was ideal, but it was reality and Aragon had to wake up and face it. “Maggie’s already called an ambulance, they’ll be here any moment,” Maria told her friend.

Watching Anne out of the corner of her eye, Aragon prayed the ambulance was about to enter the theatre doors. “What if it’s already too late?” Fear was starting to creep into Aragon’s body, swallowing her with it’s black, unforgiving jaws.

“It’s not,” Bessie promised, “It can’t be too late.”

“But what if -”

“What if’s mean nothing Catherine,” Bessie explained. “The ambulance is almost here and that’s what you can rely on.”

As the words came out of Bessie’s mouth, the theatre doors slammed open, EMTs rushing down the aisle and up onto the stage. They shooed the queens away from Anne, picking her up with ease and setting her on a stretcher. In the blink of an eye they were gone, rushing back out of the theatre with Anne in tow. 

Shooting out of Anna’s arms, Kat gasped, “We have to follow her, go to the hospital!”

“Kat, we’re in our costumes in a theatre full of confused people -” Aragon tried to say.

“We can handle the crowd,” Joan took Kat’s side. “You get changed and head to the hospital where Anne is.”

That was all Kat needed to bolt offstage and up to her dressing room. The queens thanked the ladies and stood up, following Kat to get out of their costumes. Once they were offstage, the ladies turned their attention to the clamoring audience. Maria picked up a discarded microphone and tapped it. “Everyone!” she called for attention. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I wish I could tell you that we know what happened, but the truth is we don’t. If you could please give us all some privacy while we deal with this, it would be greatly appreciated.” Before the audience could respond, the ladies turned off the microphones and prepared themselves for the onslaught of questions they were about to face.

Thankfully, Aragon had decided to drive the group to the theatre earlier instead of taking public transport. All the queens piled into the car and drove in silence on the way to see Anne. There was a clear tension among them, no one having the answers they all so desperately wanted. It felt like hours before they finally reached the hospital, but Aragon pulled into a parking spot and they were free to rush to the front doors.

Kat made it first, followed closely behind by Jane and then the other queens. They entered the hospital and beelined for the nurse’s desk. The woman sitting at the desk looked up and smiled kindly. “How can I help you?” she asked.

“Anne Boleyn,” Cathy informed her, “she has to be recently admitted.”

Scanning her papers, the woman nodded. “It looks like she’s in intensive care currently, but I can send over a doctor to talk to you.” At her words, Kat recoiled, her arms wrapping around her body. The girl’s breathing sped up and she stumbled into Anna, pulling her friend close.

Keeping her composure as best as possible, Cathy nodded. “If you could, please.” The nurse pulled out a phone, but Cathy had turned her attention back to the other queens. They were all in different states of shock. Kat was on the verge of tears in Anna’s arms as the German queen scrunched her face together in order to hide her emotions. Aragon was staring at the ground, her body unresponsive. Jane was holding a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and unseeing. And Cathy herself was doing everything possible to hold herself together in order to keep some form of control over the situation.

A moment later, a doctor emerged from the hallway next to the nurse’s desk. “Family of Anne Boleyn?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. The five queens nodded frantically, their distress clear as day. “Well I hate to tell you this,” the queens inhaled sharply, “But Miss Boleyn had a heart attack.”

“Wh-what?” Jane stuttered.

“How is that even possible? She’s young and fit,” Cathy furrowed her eyebrows, not convinced by the doctor’s answer.

The man put his hands up in defense. “We really don’t know what caused it, probably something genetic. There’s a lot we don’t know about you bunch, so we can’t say for sure. But one of her main arteries was severely blocked, so much so that she could have died.”

“Could… have?” Kat asked.

“Could have,” the doctor confirmed. “Miss Boleyn will be fine, and hopefully soon too. But right now, she needs her rest. We’re lucky we were even able to help her so quickly. I suggest coming back another time.”

There was a universal sigh of relief among the queens at the doctor’s confirmation. Even if they couldn’t see Anne, even if she wasn’t with them, she would be soon. “Can we come back tomorrow?” Anna questioned, pulling Kat closer to her.

Clicking his tongue, the doctor shook his head. “You can come check in, but you won’t be able to see her for a couple days. But I’ll make sure you’re all told when she wakes up.”

“Thank you,” Aragon’s smile was small, but genuine.

“Of course,” the doctor nodded and disappeared once again. 

It had taken a couple days, but finally the queens would get to see Anne. It had been chaotic, trying to deal with all the videos that had surfaced of the girl’s accident and all the rumors that had popped up. The media didn’t quite understand that the queens and ladies wanted privacy as they tried to deal with the fallout of Anne’s heart attack.

But none of that mattered, because Anne was awake and they were going to see her. “Do you think she’ll be sick?” Kat asked, playing with the edge of her coat.

“Why would you think that?” Cathy replied as she opened the doors to the hospital.

“Well some symptoms of a heart attack are nausea and vomiting, so I thought maybe she might be feeling sick,” Kat explained.

Aragon patted Kat on the back. “I don’t think they’d let us see her if she was still sick. But there’s only one way to find out.”

The nurse at the front desk acknowledged the queens, remembering them from previous visits. She pointed down the hall, a small reminder of where Anne’s room was. This would be the first time they would actually get to see her and not pace around outside her door. “Moment of truth,” Anna psyched herself and the others up, putting a hand on the doorknob. Slowly, she pushed it open so they could see Anne on the other side.

There were plenty of machines and tubes surrounding Anne, but her face was no longer grey and her eyes had regained a familiar light. “Queens!” she gasped when she saw them. “You came.”

Kat rushed over to Anne’s side, but restrained herself from hugging her cousin. Instead, Kat slapped Anne’s hand lightly. Kat then gave a hmph and crossed her arms. “What was that for?” Anne frowned.

“You scared us,” Kat dropped her arms and leaned over Anne.

“We thought you were going to die,” Jane spoke up from across the room.

Turning her attention to Jane, Anne attempted to shift herself in the bed. “Jane,” she huffed as her hand almost slipped, “I wouldn’t have died. I’m Anne Boleyn. It takes a sword to the head to get rid of me, not a stupid heart problem.”

“But,” Aragon spoke up, “What if it gets bad again?” She internally cursed herself for going back to the what if’s. 

It was surprising how Anne was the most laid back of them all. “I won’t let it. We won’t let it. So what if I have heart problems, apparently. Not doing anything isn’t going to fix it either, so I’m still gonna dance and sing. Sound good to you?”

Anna chuckled and put a hand on Anne’s shoulder. “Sounds great to me.”

And together, all the queens shared a genuine smile, relief washing over them like a calm wave. Anne hadn’t sung her last performance, and she hadn’t taken her last breath. And that was the important thing, they realized. Maybe Anne wasn’t on stage, singing her heart out. But Anne was fine.

Anne was fine. 

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

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #anne boleyn #request #i don't know if this is accurate at all #yes i once again took the title from a song #specifically move on from we are the tigers #because that song slaps #but that's not the point #tried some circular structure this time #turned out meh #i hope i could do this justice #it's kind of a mish mosh of everything #a garbage fire on wheels

[the-busy-ghost]

Rant- TSP S02E08 - Peace (Part 2)

We’re back in England now. 

- I see they dropped the Boleyn name FINALLY. Had absolutely zero effect imo.

- I can sort of see why Margaret Pole wouldn’t mind selling out Katherine in this version because let’s face, Katherine has been portrayed as genuinely nasty. But Mary? Did nobody think of the implications of this #Reveal for Margaret Pole’s relationship with little Mary?

- Cracking dresses Maggie’s got this episode though. Love it, especially the grey costume. Indeed there have been some nice dresses this episode, especially worn by Katherine. If it weren’t for the awful and distracting headdresses, I really would be applauding the costume department for some aesthetically pleasing if not 100% accurate gowns.

- Just a quick jump back to Fake Scotland for a minute- if they were going to do this plotline why on earth didn’t they start several episodes ago? There’s no way they can fit all of the next seven years into the next twenty minutes?

- God Henry’s beard really is bad. You don’t notice until you see it in the full light of day but it is BAD.

- I like Katherine’s implication that Wolsey is also a paid assassin. Like Henry couldn’t get somebody else to dispose of his queen in a dark wood other than a CARDINAL.

- But yeah, dump her in a wood and leave her there. That’ll work.

- The ‘Oh shit’ faces pulled by Thomas More, Margaret Pole, and Thomas Boleyn, when Katherine appears in the doorway, somehow with a horse and covered in dirt like a vengeful bog fairy, was definitely worth it though.

- Oh for goodness sake. This was a very strange flirting scene between “Meg” and don’t make me say it “Hal” Stewart. I thought we’d established last week that it wasn’t the right time? I don’t know. Margaret Tudor’s a difficult person to understand even in history, but the writers really haven’t done a good job of rendering her complex behaviour comprehensible to an audience.

- Oh for goodness SAKE it seems like weird flirting scenes are all the rage with the Tudor siblings this episode. Why could they not have introduced Anne as Henry’s mistress literally any other way? Even if the writers do think she was just a ‘pretty girl’ it was a bit more complex than ‘tits out for Henry’?

- ALSO why is NOBODY wearing proper clothes? We have established that it is WINTER and COLD. Katherine in her nightie is bad enough but Anne’s just wandering around barefoot and getting her kit off in the garden? It’s freezing put your clothes back on!

- Is it bad I kind of wanted Katherine to pull the trigger in that scene? At Henry that is, not Anne. Not because I want him dead, but because I think they could have turned this in to the most HILARIOUS murder mystery tv show. Like who killed the king? Was it the lady found half-naked over his body? Was it the ex-wife seen leaving her chambers in the night? Was it the ambitious cardinal who’s been under a lot of strain lately? Was it the ex-mistress whose son has just been promoted to the rank of duke but who might be ousted by a new mistress? Was it a spy sent down from Scotland, because it’s apparently that easy to infiltrate the tower of London? Add in one crime-solving monk and a convenient drawing room for the murderer’s identity to be Revealed in, and you have yourself a hit ITV Sunday afternoon show. 

- Ok so we got the cannons Moment from Meg, not a total loss. But, um, I have a lot of Thoughts. Firstly, why is there a lady singing a Jacobite lament for no apparent reason? It has no impact if it isn’t the right context (or even culture)? Secondly, is that supposed to be 400 men? Thirdly, they know that Angus entered the town, not Holyrood or the Castle, and didn’t launch a siege of anything right? Fourthly, Angus trying to attack EDINBURGH CASTLE in broad daylight with like a dozen guys and the Earl of Lennox is ridiculously funny. This is not 1313 and you are not Thomas Randolph (or even the Black Douglas at Roxburgh). Go home Angus, you are drunk.

- Watching Margaret Tudor with cannons: Origin story for Henry Stewart, Master of Artillery. Good or bad I can’t tell right now.

- But seriously are they trying to imply that Margaret Tudor went mad? Because I don’t know about you, but presenting a complex historical woman’s confusing changes of allegiance as her being a bit nuts is not exactly the most feminist way to go.

- “I want more sugared apricots” oh don’t we all Henry Fitzroy

- Ah the Symbolic Bird. Another missed opportunity for the dead parrot sketch.

- Ok I LOVE the gable hood FINALLY. Thirty years too late but still.

- Why is Katherine at the door with her bags and the kid like they live in a 1950s house in the suburbs instead of a royal palace?

- Ok but a ‘small household’ does not mean just the birdcage and no coat for your only daughter in the midst of winter. Seriously would somebody give the poor kid some warm clothes.

- Oh I don’t even know where to begin with this final scene but there is INHERENT comedy in using the bird as a symbol for Mary and Katherine’s hopes, saying “You are England’s future Mary”, then throwing a tame budgerigar out into a cold English winter where it will almost certainly die. What an ending folks.

- Lastly, I don’t know about England where it’s meant to be 1531, but in Scotland, it is still 1524. We are apparently not supposed to mention this.

Well I think in the end I’ll miss this show. It HAS given me a lot of laughs. And like I know that any drama involves a lot of work, so credit to everyone who did their best, even if it was ultimately ruined by some questionable writing and plot choices, and some decidedly Un-feminist writing wrapped up as Girl Power. Oh the show that could have been...

#TSP #Margaret Tudor #Meg Tudor #rant

[yourdeepestfathoms]

I Did A Terrible Thing

just a very random AU idea. i like the concept of this curse so i whipped this up

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

Pale sunlight filtered in through cracks between the curtains, bathing the floor with washed out yellow rays. The sound of clattering from downstairs awakened Jane, then the empty space in the bed. She sighed, reaching longingly for her husband’s side, only to not find him there. Despite her disappointment, she smiled; that man was probably already up and working. She needed to fall into pace, too.

After getting dressed, Jane walked down the stairs, being mindful of her stomach. She was only four months into her pregnancy, but Henry still wanted her to be careful all the time. She found herself chuckling at the memory of him fretting over her from when she was simply walking.

  “Good morning, Joan,” She greeted the young teenager at the kettle.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” The girl replied.

Joan was a young, scrawny little thing. She was awkward in size and personality, always fidgeting nervously or picking at her arms. She didn’t have many friends, Jane had noticed, despite the town having quite a few kids her age. The girl was just too quiet and too shy and all too reserved to interact with anyone beyond her masters.

Henry and Jane were in need of a maid when their fortune and property grew the more Henry became more powerful in his work. Although a fifteen year old outcast wasn’t what they had in mind, they took the worker offered to them regardless. After all, they didn’t need to pay a child as much as their paid an adult.

  “Where has Henry ran off to?” Jane asked, pouring herself a cup of tea.

  “He went to town early this morning, ma’am.” Joan answered. Her voice was wavering slightly; she always did her best to sound mature and appropriate for her status under such a wealthy family. “Runnin’ off because of something with the Howard’s, ma’am. Didn’t tell me what ailed him.” Her eyes flashed a little, weakness reflecting in them for a moment as her voice dipped, “Look like he was gon’ whip me if I dare ask, ma’am.”

Jane hummed. If she noticed Joan’s fear of a whipping, she didn’t acknowledge it. Yes, she didn’t quite agree with Henry’s choice to sometimes take the whip off its hook, but there was nothing to be done.

  “The Howard’s?” Jane said, interested. Joan deflated slightly when she didn’t say anything about the threatened beating. “Whatever for?”

  “I told you I don’ know, ma’am.” Joan answered. “He didn’ tell me.”

  “Ah, right,” Jane nodded. “And what are you plans for the day?”

  “Mister Tudor want me to work in the field. With the animals.” Joan said.

  “Isn’t it a little cold for that?” Jane commented, watching her servant get her a plate of breakfast.

  “Not to him,” Joan shrugged. It was clear she didn’t want to be out in the cold, but she was not one to go against her master. “I shall get it done as quick as I can. Do you think I will have free time after? May I go to town, too?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Jane said.

Joan lit up. The girl didn’t smile very often, rather wearing a solemn expression on most days, so seeing her smile was strange. 

  “Oh, thank you, Miss Jane!” Joan chirped, bowing her head in thanks. She set the plate down and rubbed her hands against her apron, eyes still alight with glee. All the things she wanted to do, like going to the library and getting new books, made her excited. “Is there anything else you need, ma’am? I don’ want to leave you and get to work without knowin’ for sure.”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” Jane said, waving a hand, “Go on. Get going.”

  “I will! Thank you again, Miss Jane!”

With that, the girl bowed one more time and then scurried out.

---

  “Look at you. A sheep with the sheep.”

Anne smirked at the way Joan’s head snapped up from where she was feeding the lambs. Maggie and Maria tittered at her side.

  “Anne.” Joan said, slightly sheepish. “What-what are you doin’ here?”

  “Came to get you,” Anne replied as if Joan should have known that. “Your master be at my uncle’s house. You know that, yeah? Somethin’s wrong with my cousin.”

  “Cousin?”

  “Katherine, you idiot.” Anne rolled her eyes and Maggie giggled again. “Your head full of moths?”

  “Probably sheep wool,” Maria put in. “She already looks like one. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts growin’ wool from her ears!” She and Maggie roared in laughter, while Anne just chuckled darkly. Joan shrunk back, her cheeks heating up.

  “Anyway,” Anne said, rolling her wrist, “We gon’ go to the Howard’s house and see her. She’s ill, you know?”

  “No,” Joan shook her head, “Mister Tudor didn’ tell me anything. She’s sick?”

  “Yeah. Real sick. Ain’t wakin’ up. Edmund has been throwin’ a huge fit over her.” Anne explained, “I’m surprised you never heard him howlin’!”

Doing a horrible imitation of Mister Howard, Maggie wailed, “Oh Katherine, Katherine! Wake, my sweet daughter! Wake! Why won’t you wake?!”

Clinging to her arm dramatically, Maria joined in, “God! God! Why have you forsaken me?! What have you struck my little girl with?!”

Once again, they erupted into laughter. Joan’s nose scrunched up at their insensitivity.

  “Tell her my pardons and prayers,” She said, grabbing a rake to rid of the muck in the barn, “My master said I gotta tend to the animals. Then I can go to town. But I’m not spendin’ my free time meddlin’ in someone else’s affairs.”

She missed the looks that the three other girls exchanged. However, she did hear Maria mutter, “I told you we shouldn’t have come here” and Maggie’s, “This was a waste of time.” Anne groaned loudly and snatched the rake away from Joan, making her yelp.

  “Live a little, will ya? Let’s go see poor Kitty!” Anne urged, “To hell with your master right now. You can’t let him lead you around by a leash all the time. Deal with the consequences later. Let’s go!”

Joan stared into the older girl’s eyes and then sighed, giving in.

  “Lead on, Anne.”

Anne, her two goons, and Joan began trekking through the Tudor’s property, making sure they weren’t caught.

  “So, what’s wrong with Kitty?” Joan asked. The other three smirk widely.

  “There be witches about, Joan.” Anne said. “And we’re gonna find them.”

---

  “Anne! We are gonna to get in trouble!” Joan hissed in a whisper as she and the other girls trodded through the darkened forest. This part of the woods was supposed to be banned from entry, but Anne and her goons had apparently found a way into the thicket.

  “No we won’t,” Anne said dismissively.

  “Yeah!” Maggie agreed, as she always did. She was never not licking on Anne’s boots.

  “Stop being such a baby.” Maria said.

Joan blustered. “I am NOT a baby!”

  “Then stop complainin’.” Anne said.

  “I thought you said we were goin’ to Mister Howard’s house,” Joan said, nearly being hit in the face by a thorny branch.

  “I lied.”

The four of them broke through the brambles and into a clearing. There, a small stone cottage, swathed in moss and vines, sat nestled between two towering oak trees. 

Smoke that didn’t smell like normal smoke was streaming from the chimney.

  “Oh, Anne, no--” Joan said worriedly as Anne strode over to the front door with Maggie and Maria in tow. “This isn’ our home, Anne! We can’t go in!”

  “Too late,” Anne said while opening the door with a smirk. “BESIDES, this is a witch’s house! They don’t deserve a home!”

  “Even more of a reason to not go in…” Joan muttered.

The inside of the house was filled with strange items. Vibrant flowers and sparkling stones, vials filled with strange liquids and wooden sculptures with eyes that seemed to follow Joan, weird plants and stacked ingredients--and a beautiful bird in a silver cage that was hanging from the ceiling.

  “Woah,” Maggie murmured as they approached the cage.

The bird had pure white feathers that seemed to sparkle in the light from the fireplace and a long, flowing tail. Its eyes were a bright, striking blue as it turned to them, clucking softly.

  “It’s so pretty,” Maria said.

  “It is.” Joan couldn’t help but agree.

  “Let’s take it.”

Joan whipped her head around to Anne. “What?”

  “Yes!” Maggie yipped gleefully.

  “Yeah!” Maria nodded vigorously. “The witch is probably torturing it!”

  “No! W-we can’t!” Joan stammered nervously, but Anne was already unlatching the door to the cage and pulling out the bird. “Anne!”

  “Finders keepers,” Anne said.

The bird squirmed in Anne’s hands, clearly uncomfortable. It then began to screech loudly, trying to flap its wings in her grip and shaking its tail feathers in irritation. Anne yelped and squeezed it tighter.

  “Anne!” Joan yelped.

  “Make it be quiet!” Maggie cried.

  “Someone is gonna hear!” Maria added, only now sounding anxious.

  “I’m trying!” Anne moved the bird into one hand, trying to hold its beak shut with the other. She yelped in pain when it pecked her and grabbed its head roughly, struggling with the thing.

Then, there was the sound of bones cracking.

The squawking stopped.

The bird went limp.

The girls stared in shock.

  “Oh god,” Anne whispered.

  “You-you killed it!” Joan cried. “Anne, you killed it! You killed a witch’s pet!”

  “Shut UP, Joan!” Anne snapped.

  “What are we going to do?” Maria worried.

  “We’re going to leave,” Anne said. She dropped the bird’s body. “We were never here, alright? Do not speak a word about this to anyone.”

Maggie and Maria nodded, but Joan did not. She went to refuse when a twig snapped outside.

And a beautiful woman stepped into the cottage.

She had dark skin like molten honey and curly brown hair with golden tips. The gold and green robes she was swathed in looked like they were charged with magical energy. Vines and ivy coiled around her arms and neck, forming a bramble crown on her forehead. Her sharp brown eyes widened when she saw the kids in her room, then became anguished when her gaze shifted to the dead bird.

  “RUN!!” Anne screeched, and she, Maggie, and Maria dashed out of the cottage, shoving past the witch. Joan was left behind, too shocked to move. She began to quake in fear as the witch approached slowly.

The witch knelt down and picked the bird up, cradling its corpse in her arms like it was a baby. She looked absolutely distraught over its death.

  “W-we didn’t mean to,” Joan stuttered. “I-I tried to get them to stop, but they--”

  “You killed her.” The witch spat.

Joan flinched and swallowed thickly. “I-I’m really sorry…”

  “You’re going to pay for this, little girl,” The witch growled lowly, then began to mutter something beneath her breath. Her eyes lit up bright white, and Joan felt something slithering up through the inside of her body. Her guts and brain grew warm, as if they were being filled with hot water, and she staggered backwards in shock. 

Then, it all went away.

And a sound began to fill Joan’s head.

Cawing.

Crow cawing.

It was rebounding through her skull like an echo in a cave, growing lower and louder and louder. With it, a pressure grew behind her left eye, like something was trying to crawl its way out of her head. She clutched at her face, gritting her teeth through a new, sharp pain blooming like a flower in spring. 

  “You took my familiar,” The witch hissed. “Now I will take something from you.”

Joan’s eyeball felt like it was being torn out of her skull. Perhaps it was because there was a sharp sensation behind her eye, poking, pricking, stabbing, until she thought it was going to pop out.

Instead, it was destroyed.

The cawing got louder and a trio of crows burst from her right eye socket.

Joan screamed in pain, falling down to her knees as her entire body shuddered. The crows writhed in her face, flapping their wings in a desperate attempt to get away but their lower halves were stuck inside of her skull. They struggled and squirmed, somehow not tearing skin, and sent waves of agony roaring through every part of Joan’s being.

The witch stared down at the girl as she cried tears and blood. Her face, so lacking any avians or remorse, twitched. She shook her head.

  “Go, child. You’re lucky I let you live.”

But Joan couldn’t move. Not for awhile, so the witch picked her up and carried her back into the forest, where she was left under a tree. 

The crows continued to caw.

---

Joan was kicked out of her mistress’ house after returning home, weak and in pain. Henry yelled at her, calling her a witch and a devil, and shot at her with his shotgun.

The bullet blasted a hole through her belly. The pain was unbearable. The crows screeched. But she did not die.

Henry and Jane beat her off of their property, both looking terrified as they did so. Joan tried to plead with them, tried to convince them to let her stay, but they refused.

Everyone in the village did the same.

They all looked at her with disgust and hatred and horror. They all tried to kill her but she would not die. So they chased her into the forest instead, banned her from her home. 

Joan was alone with a crow’s nest in her head.

The crows were smaller than normal crows, but still felt massive inside of her. She felt every move they made, every twitch and jolt, which felt as though her head was splitting open like a watermelon. Some days, they were subdued, pressed into each other, tucked in her eye like it was their nest. Other days, they were manic, wings flapping in never-ending distress, feather ruffling and itching places inside of her face that she could not reach.

She tried to pull them out. They pecked her and bit her and they screeched so loud she thought she would go deaf, but she tried. 

They did not come out.

She tried cutting them off, next. It worked for a moment, but then they grew back within just a few seconds, even more loud and hysteric. They didn’t shut up for awhile after that.

The constant squawking stopped Joan from sleeping. Without sleep, she grew exhausted and miserable. When she grew miserable, she became depressed.

She tried to die so many times, but nothing ever worked. The curse of immortality was as bad as the birds, but she supposed that was the point. She wondered which part was supposed to be the real punishment.

One day, after a long and agonizing four months of torture, Joan couldn’t get herself to move. The birds were agitated, squirming and squawking more than usual. They never seemed to get tired, unlike Joan, who felt like a corpse. She wanted to be one so badly.

Footsteps approached, but Joan didn’t realize because of all the noise until the witch was right in front of her. She looked up at her, whimpering, crying tears of blood, and the crows quieted down to stare, too. 

  “You pitiful creature,” Said the witch. “Are you not going to beg for forgiveness?”

Joan shook her head sluggishly, thunking it back down to the thick root of a tree. The birds were jostled and cawed in annoyance, and she let out a tiny sob as the sound echoed in her aching eardrums. 

  “I deserve it,” Joan managed to croak out. 

  “Hm.” Said the witch. “What a peculiar child you are. Usually people are kissing my boots, pleading for a reversal to their curse. But not you.”

Joan didn’t think she had the energy to.

  “Can you stand?” The witch asked. “My name is Catalina de Aragon, child, and I need an apprentice. You will become that for me and you will listen to what I tell you, and only once you prove yourself will I remove your curse. Now, get up. We have a lot of work to do.”

#six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #anne boleyn #jane seymour #katherine howard #joan on the keys #maria on the drums #maggie on the guitar #catherine of aragon #i did a terrible thing