#vive la france this man is beautiful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lacrimosathedark · 3 years

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Who'd like some good old fashioned name analysis?

Okay, so, I been doing so much research for Resident Evil stuff and learning shit about fairy tales and timelines and genome editing and searching for impossible Romanian poetry I got overwhelmed and went, fuck it. Why not just look at their names? Maybe I'll learn something there.

So, here I have done it. Name meanings for characters of the Mold Saga so far aka 7 and 8 aka Biohazard and Village.

(Sorry I'm on mobile I'll put a cut here when I can)

Ethan: Firm, enduring, strong, impetuous, long-lived. An incredibly consistently common and popular name. E name just like Eveline, so could be a successor of sorts to the mold.

Mia: Derivative of numerous other names of many possibilities. Mia as a word means “mine” in Italian and Spanish. Mamma Mia is a well known Italian phrase, particularly due to the ABBA song and musical of the same name, and it being the catchphrase of the Nintendo character Mario. The phrase means “my mom”.

Winters: First and last season of the year where everything becomes dormant and cold and either dies or sleeps.

Eveline: Contains “Eve”, as in both the biblical first woman. Also means a night before an event, and the game takes place in the span of one night. The name Eve means “ life”, “living one”, “mother of life”, or “giver of life”. Another possible name origin is as a variant of Aveline, which is a diminutive of Ava, which is the same pronunciation as the name Eva as pronounced in Village.

Baker: Occupational surname. In older times consider an upper-middle class job, much like the family. Also adds the emphasis of the “food” and also how they essentially make more molded.

Jack: God is gracious, supplanter. A nickname for John and other related names, but also a name in itself. It is also a word with a couple meanings, including a heavy lifting tool, to steal something, to take control of something, or an everyman.

Margueritte: Pearl. French name for ox-eyed daisy. Derived from Margaret. Sounds like maggot.

Lucas: Light. Derived from Lucius which means “the bright one” or “the one born at dawn”. Luke is also an Apostle of Jesus and was a physician.

Zoe: Life. Came from the name Eve. Fitting as Zoe was practically pushed out of the family after Eveline’s arrival, replaced as the daughter of the family.

Joe: He will add. Was added as DLC. Short for Joseph. Joseph is the name of multiple biblical figures. One is a child of Jacob and Rachel and Jacob’s favorite son in Genesis (note: Jack is a nickname for Jacob) who was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, but rose to become vizier, the most powerful position nest to the Pharoah, and forgave his family and brought them to Egypt. One is the husband of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who loved and raised a child he knew was not his against social norms. Another is a disciple known as Joseph of Arimathea who notably took Jesus down from the cross for his burial and testified when he revived and was gone.

Rosemary: Dew of the sea. Combination of Rose and Mary or the plant rosemary. Roses as a plant vary in meaning depending on color. Mary and its variations have many differing meanings, among them being, “beloved”, “love”, “bitter”, “rebellious”, “wished-for child”, and “drop of the sea”. There are also the allusions to Mary, mother of Jesus as she is sometimes worshipped with roses, and you say Hail Marys on your rosary which is only two letters from her name. In regards to the plant, it is relatively resistant to drought and cold, though some breeds are susceptible to frost and they don’t like too much water. They have fibrous roots, so they spread and fan out like we see with the mold. They thrive in more alkaline soils and seem to have been named by a taxonomist named Carl Linnaeus. In stories, folklore, and tradition, the plants or flowers are often used for remembrance, specifically for the dead. It’s also been used as a spice and in medicine.

Miranda: Worthy of admiration. Latin in origin. Character in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, and whether she is a strong female character or not is highly debated, as she frequently defies men like her father, but often when they expect and/or want her to. She is otherwise compassionate and naive. The titular character of a Polish novel in which everyone is a mage and Miranda is a medium connected to another character, Damayanti, who is portrayed as the ideal woman and has a romance with the male protagonist, yet sacrifices her body so her spirit can experience a higher state of consciousness. Miranda can contact her soul, and disappears when she dies. Miranda in the US refers to the required practice by police of reading suspects their rights before interrogation.

Eva: Latin form of “Eve” and meaning “life”, “mother of life”, or “giver of life”.

Duke: A ruler of a duchy. A title bestowed by royalty or passed through family, often given to royalty or nobility, but can be given to anyone. In France, the peerage system was abolished in 1789 (vive la révolution), brought back in 1814, and finally perma-abolished in 1848.

(Note: While the wife of a duke becomes a duchess, the husband of a duchess does not become a duke. At least, from what I gather. This shit is confusing.)

Alcina: Strong-willed. Greek origin. There are two operas using the same story about a sorceress named Alcina who lives on an island with her sister Morgana and seduces every knight who comes to the island, but turns them into plants, animals, or stones when she bores of them. When the source of her power is destroyed, she, her sister, and their palace crumble to dust. The Hungarian name for Alțâna, a commune in Sibiu County, Romania in the historical region of Transylvania.

Bela: Bela Lugosi was an actor who famously portrayed Dracula. His name is Hungarian and meant to be spelled Béla meaning “heart”, “insides”, or “intestines”, roughly translating to “having heart” or “having guts” in modern terminology, as in being brave. However it is considered a male name and as Bela is female there is also the possibility of the influence of the name Bella short an l, Bella an Italian name meaning “beautiful”.

Cassandra: The one who shines and excels over men. Name of a Trojan princess and priestess in Greek mythology. She was given her gift of prophecy by the god Apollo but, in most versions of the tale, he asks for sexual favors in return, and she initially agrees but then rejects him once she’s gotten her gift. In anger he cursed her to always tell true prophecies that no one would believe and was thus thought a madwoman. She served a temple of Athena, goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and warfare. When Cassandra was assaulted and possibly raped in Athena’s temple and dragged out while desperately clinging to Athena’s statue, Athena was so enraged by the damage done to her temple and/or her priestess that she enlisted the help of both Zeus and Poseiden to exact revenge on the Greeks for failing to punish the man who attacked Cassandra and caused the resulting damage. Zeus gave her one of his own bolts of lightning and she struck them down at sea. While Cassandra was never believed, she was always right.

Daniela: God is my judge. Feminine form of Daniel. Daniela is also a genus of moth with only one species in the genus, Daniela viridis. It is also another name for the Italian wine grape Prè blanc.

Dimitrescu: Child of Dimitri. -escu suffixes in Romanian are like -son suffixes in English, it derives from parentage (ex. Jackson is Jack’s son, Dimitrescu is Dimitri’s child). Dimitri means “devoted to Demeter”. Demeter is the Greek goddess of the harvest, agriculture, sacred law (i.e. cycle of life and death), fertility, and the earth. Like many Greek myths, she is repeatedly wronged, and rather severely, by multiple male figures. Demeter in particular is a mother who has her daughter Kore, later known as Persephone, stolen away from her and goes on a rampage searching for her and those responsible.

(Note: Considering the founders had these names it’s a bit dumb seeing as this trend of parentage -escu names supposedly came about mid 19th century (1800s for those who find that confusing cuz I do), long after the Village was founded)

Donna: Lady or lady of the home. Italian name and a title of respect. Derives from the Latin term Dominus. The Romanian form of the word (not the name) is Doamnã. The Atropa belladonna aka deadly nightshade have berries and foliage that contain tropane alkaloids including atropine, scopolamine, and hyoscyamine which are extremely toxic and can cause hallucinations and delirium, but are also used in pharmaceutical anticholinergics. Throughout history people cluelessly used the berry juice as eye drops to cosmetically dilate their pupils, giving them a seductive doll-eyed appearance. Symptoms of belladonna poisoning are dilated pupils, sensitivity to light, blurred vision, tachycardia, loss of balance, staggering, headache, rash, flushing, severely dry mouth and throat, slurred speech, urinary retention, constipation, confusion, hallucinations, delirium, and convulsions. The plant's deadly symptoms are in atropine’s ability to disrupt the parasympathetic nervous system’s involuntary regulation like sweating, breathing, and heartbeat.

Angie: Diminutive of many names containing “angel”. Angels are messengers and warriors of Heaven, a realm souls go after death. Angel statues are also common grave markers. Children are also often told they have guardian angels, a being watching over them to protect them.

Claudia: No sure meaning has been found, but some think it comes from claudus, meaning “lame”, “limping”, or “crippled”, or clausus, which means “shut” or “closed”.

Beneviento: Good wind. Neapolitan spelling of Benevento, the name of both a province and its capital city, located in the Campania region of Italy.

Salvatore: Savior. Italian name. In the movie version (I specify as I have not read the book and the movie synopsis has more on the characters) of The Name of the Rose, the character Salvatore is hunch-backed and twisted, and has a history of not-really-acceptable religious beliefs. He was also tortured and falsely accused of witchcraft. He dies when a library is set on fire.

Moreau: Moorish, dark-skinned. French surname. Titular doctor in The Island of Doctor Moreau, in which said doctor performs disturbing and torturous experiments on people and animals, especially through vivisection, to make beastial humanoid creatures.

Karl: Free man, strong man, manly. Werner Karl Heisenberg was a German theoretical physicist who made notably important contributions to hydrodynamics, ferromagnetism, cosmic rays, and subatomic particles. Karl Marx was a German philosopher, economist, historian, sociologist, political theorist, journalist, and socialist revolutionary who believed societies develop through class conflict, and in a capitalist society this is the “ruling” class (the bosses) having power over the working class. He believed people should have equal footing and should and would inevitably fight for it. Karl Jaspers was a German existentialist philosopher and psychiatrist. His humanist ideals had him dissatisfied with the medical community’s approach to mental health and worked to improve it, and philosophizing on it after.

(IMPORTANT NOTE: Since I’ve seen accusations of the RE character and his influences being so, I feel I must state it here. Karl Heisenberg is NOT a Nazi. Both Heisenberg and Jaspers lived through World War II and neither were Nazis. Jaspers was blackwalled because of his Jewish wife. Heisenberg was forcibly drafted into the Army Weapons Bureau, but pre-war he had been repeatedly slandered as a “white Jew” and his career held back, and post-war became more political, worked against traditional primacy in the education system, and actively protested the government considering equipping the army with American nuclear weapons. Capcom reps have also stated that Karl Heisenberg has nothing to do with Nazis.)

Heisenberg: Calling mountain (could not find a specific definition, “heisen” means “to call” and “berg” means “mountain or hill”). Reference to Werner Karl Heisenberg, (explained above). Likely unrelated, but another well-known (in the US at least) name thief of Heisenberg comes from the popular TV show Breaking Bad as the alias/street name for the main character Walter White who takes the name and starts selling drugs when he is unable to afford medical care for his in-need child, but grows more twisted throughout the series. Also place name.

Berengario: Italian form of Berengar, which is derived from Germanic root words meaning “bear” and “spear”.

Cesare: Italian form of the Latin word Caesar, which is an imperial title like an emperor or empress. The word Caesar itself may come from caesaries meaning “hairy”.

Guglielmo: Italian form of the Germanic William, meaning “vehement protector” or “desired helmet”

Nichola: Anglicized form of the Greek Nikolaos meaning “victory of the people”. Also a variant of Nicholas (Considered a female variant but fuck gender roles and the description says he.). This character is also referred to as Father like a priest I looked into saints and while I found no notable Saint Nichola (meaning on Wikipedia) there are multiple Saint Nicholases, most notably Saint Nicholas of Myra, also known as the Wonderworker and the model of Santa Claus. Stories of him include gifting gold coins through a window of a home for three nights to prevent three girls from being forced into prostitution, calming a storm at sea, saving three soldiers from execution, and chopping down a possessed tree. More connected to where his treasure is found, there is also a tale of him resurrecting three children who had been murdered by a butcher who had had intended to sell their meat as “pork” during the famine.

*BONUS TIME*

By that I mean these are less important so I did slightly less research and/or didn’t feel like typing all the research so there’s less info, but it’s still relevant, so here you go!

Chris: A rare name in its own right, often a shortened version of names like Christopher, meaning “Christ-bearer”, and Christian, as in the religion.

Redfield: Literally red field. Fitting for the trail of blood in his wake because have mercy on any of his enemies, but regrettably including many of his friends and allies (rip in peace Piers Nivans).

Elena: Shining light. Greek origin.

Leonardo: Strong as a lion. Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese version of Leonard.

Lupu: Wolf. Romanian surname. Fitting as the surname of the man we saw become a lycan before our eyes.

Luiza: Renowned warrior. Polish, Portuguese, and Romanian name.

Iulian: Romanian name from the Greek iulius meaning “youthful” or “juvenile”, or ioulos meaning “downy-bearded”.

Vasile: Romanian name from the Greek basileus meaning ”king”. Vasile Voiculescu wrote a poem called Schimnicul, The Recluse in English, about varcolacul.

(Note: For those who don’t recall or didn’t notice his name in Ethan’s diary, this is Luiza’s husband.)

Rolando: Famous throughout the land. Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese variant of Roland.

Elba: Spanish form of Alba, which can mean “dawn”, “white”, or “elf”, depending on origin.

Dion: Shorter form of Greek Dionysios meaning “of Zeus”.

Wilson: Lineage surname, “Will’s son”. Very common surname in English.

Charlie: A name in itself but often a nickname for names like Charles meaning “man” or “warrior”

Graham: Gravelly homestead. Habitational surname, apparently derived from Grantham in Lincolnshire, England.

John: God is gracious. The most common name ever with the most variations.

Perlman: Ashkenazi Jewish surname. Also literal, “perl” possibly meaning “pearl” thus being an occupational name, or Perl being a woman’s name making it mean “husband of Perl”.

Emily: Rival. Latin name.

Berkoff: Could be Jewish, Dutch, or German surname. Definition not quite certain, but likely related to birch trees.

Josef: German, Czech, and Scandinavian version of Joseph.

Simon: He has heard. From Hebrew Shim’on.

Roxana: Bright, dawn. Latin form of Greek Rhoxane and Persian Roshanak.

Anton: Priceless, praiseworthy, flower.

Sebastian: From the Latin name Sebastianus which meant “from Sebaste”. Sebaste is a town in Asia Minor and comes from the Greek word sebastos meaning “venerable”.

Eugen: Well-born.Romanian form of Eugene. From the Greek name Eugenios.

(Note: This is the man who lived in the house with the red chimney.)

Ernest: Serious. Germanic name.

(Note: This man is noted to be missing in a letter to Luiza and his diary is found with the Cannibal’s Plunder in Otto’s Mill.)

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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Time is Irrelevant (2/?): Vive La France

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Female!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of death

Word Count: 4.5k (she’s long lol sorry about it)

Part Summary: Y/N wakes up dazed and confused. From then on, things only get more confused as she starts to realize she’s in 18th century France with a strange man.

Masterlist

I gradually open my eyes, my vision blurry at first. A bright light burns them and I feel as though I’m staring into the gates of Heaven. Then, the memory of what happened jolts me awake. Startled, I frantically scan my surroundings. I come to the horrifying conclusion that I’m no longer at the table in the student union. In fact, I have no clue where I am! I’m in a bedroom, on a bed with tall dark wood posts. The room looks too grand and vintage to be anywhere on campus. It’s baby blue walls and crown molding don’t exactly scream cinderblock dorm room. The furniture appears to be so detailed and too fragile to touch, which will be a problem because I woke up on the bed. Am I in a museum?

I stand up cautiously, afraid someone may barge in. I glance down and I see I’m in a white cotton nightgown. A grandma nightgown, seriously? How did I get here and why am I in grandma's pajamas? As I take in my appearance, I don’t see any injuries or bruising, that’s good. I feel alright, panicked, but alright. My brain is pounding against my skull. I can hear my mom now, ranting in my mind. She’d say, “don’t hurry to get up! You could have a concussion.” I rarely listen to her and I don’t plan on starting now.

I step closer to what appears to be a balcony and I peer out to get an idea of where I am. Leaning over the iron rail, I see a dirt road below. People crowd the streets, they maintain a loud banter. Their clothes, they’re odd. Wait, is that man wearing a white wig? Where the hell am I? A gold plated carriage goes by down the street and a man yells at the top of his lungs in what sounds to me as French. As I focus on the commotion, all I hear is French. I take note of the architecture of the surrounding buildings and it all is very French, specifically Parisian. I’m not an expert who has never been to France but I would say the architecture of Paris is pretty iconic. Wait no, this can’t be real! It couldn’t be possible in Paris! How could I possibly be in the United States one minute, then wake up in France? It’s not possible. My heart drops, I’ve been kidnapped and taken out of the country!

“Good! You’re awake!”

I jump at the sudden voice. When I whip around, I spot the strange man from before entering the room.

“Put this on,” he instructs, tossing me a gown nonchalantly. “You stand out like a lily in a field full of daisies.”

I take in his appearance. He’s decked out in colonial-era clothing like the cluster of people down below. My mind screams, reminding me that this is all ridiculous. There’s no way I’m in France and there must be a good reason as to why everyone is dressed as though we’re about to go eat some cake with Marie Antonette. I snickered lightly, baffled at the idea of any of this being real. I’m clearly still asleep.

“Y/N!” The strange professor snaps his fingers and I'm pulled from my thoughts. “Please, before we’re late!”

I snap out of the daze and remember that this man has kidnapped me. Chucking the dress onto the bed, I proceed to bark at him. “Where am I?! Where have you taken me?!” My voice progressively escaping me in screams.

He grins slyly, staring into my soul. “I believe you've already figured that out for yourself…”

I shake my head, laughing at what he’s suggesting. He must think I’m an idiot. He narrows his eyes at me, curious.

“Oh please,” I tease him. “You can’t possibly think I would believe any of this? I’m in college, not kindergarten! Now, let me go!” I start to approach the door but he steps in my way.

His fingers wrap around my forearm with a forceful grip. “Look Y/N, we don’t have time for this! You ARE indeed in France. You ARE in 1778! Now, get dressed! We can’t be late!”

I stare into his eyes as he shouts this nonsense to me. The miniature oceans that encompass them. They have this electricity about them that draws me in and I feel hypnotized. Yet, I must remain level headed if I plan on escaping and surviving this.

Aggressively, I yank my arm free. “Let go of me you psycho! Have you lost your mind? There’s no way-”

The professor wraps his arm around me and presses his free hand over my mouth. I scream for someone to help, but my words are muffled against his hand.

“But it is!” He argues, “I possess the ability to time travel! Okay! The Eye of Harmony, Rassilon's Star, it exists!”

Upon hearing his words, I stop fighting him, utterly stunned. His hands ease off of my face and release my arm. My chest rises and plummets at an inconsistent rate. There are very few people who speak of the star. It’s legend, ancient mythology, lost in history.

“But…” I struggle to find the words, “but that's not possible.” My volume has lost its touch. My words flowing out like little puffs of wind.

“But it is! Now, get dressed and I’ll explain everything!” He tells me, seemingly eager to clear the air.

I watch silently as he turns to leave abruptly. Does he drop the bombshell that he may have the most powerful stone in the world then goes to leave? Of course, he would.

As he walks away, he presses, “we have somewhere we need to be and soon!”

Processing the situation, I take matters into my own hands. “Will you just wait for a second?!”

Irritable, he crosses his arms, “what it is?”

“I believe I deserve some sort of explanation! Now! I’m not going anywhere with you until you give me some sort of explanation now!”

He huffs, rubbing his temple. “We’re in France! I need you in that dress! We have an appointment and running late! There’s your explanation! Now if you’ll please,” he gestures towards the gown on the bed.

Swallowing hard, I comprehend the fact that he won’t be so forthcoming with me. I’ve seen plenty of thrillers where a girl is kidnaped and she acts out or doesn’t do anything which leads to her demise. I always shout at the girls to play along until the right opportunity arises. For all I know, I’m somewhere close to school and he’s messing with my head. All I’m sure about is I have to make it home.

“1778 you claim?” I clarify as I pick up the dress on the bed. As I examine the attire, I’m reminded of how uncomfortable women dressed. “This should be interesting...” If I’m going to play along I’ll need the proper attire and this isn’t it. I huff, “I’ll need a corset, heels, shift, pannier-”

The professor waves his hands for me to quiet down. “Yes! Yes, I know! I’ll be sending Joséphine in to help you. Any further questions?”

I shake my head, still struggling to cope.

“Very well,” he bows his head. As soon as he appeared he disappears into the halls. As soon as the door shuts, I feel as though I’m on the verge of fainting. I stumble over to the balcony in search of an escape route. I may only have minutes before he returns.

“I must be dreaming,” I tell myself to remain sane.

He’s really taking this whole charade about time travel seriously. Apart of me wishes to believe what he’s saying is true, the part of me that loves history blindly. If I’m truly in 1778 Paris that would incredible. Yet, I know logically time travel is impossible. Except, according to legend, the Eye of Harmony is said to allow time travel. Of course, that’s just ancient mythology, folklore. There’s no one alive that’s seen the star.

I watch the people in the streets below in awe. It all seems so real, the wagons, women dressed in corsets, and men dressed like the Founding Fathers. He must’ve drugged me, that’s the only explanation. Suddenly, the door creaks behind me and I jump like a scared cat. A lady, whom I assume is Joséphine, enters the room.

“Bonsoir Madame,” she greets me with a curtsy.

“Bonsoir…” I mutter, terrified but trying to remain calm.

Joséphine offers me a reassuring smile. I’m guessing she’s about my age, perhaps a few years older but not much. She guides me over to the vanity gently. At first, I stay as still as a statue. I watch as she picks up a few containers on the table and skims the labels.

“Ah oui!” She blurts out, apparently, she’s found what she was looking for.

After she selects a brush from the jar, she prepares to start on my makeup but I stop her.

“I’m okay, really! I just-”

“Non, non, non,” she objects. “ce soir madame vous devez avoir l'air parfait!”

Great, so if this really is 1778 then I’m about to get a heavy dose of lead poisoning. This white powder she’s spreading on my face makes me look like Casper. I respect the bold fashion of this era but rosy cheeks, cherry lips, and silk white skin, not my best look.

Once I’m suffocating in my dress, she pushes me down into the chair in front of the vanity and roughly yanks my auburn hair up. I study in the mirror as she pins my hair down to my scalp and digs the pins into my head. How the hell am I supposed to balance this clump of hair on my head? It’s taller than my entire head.

“Ouch!” I bark.

“Pardon, Madame,” she apologizes softly.

After I appear the part, Joséphine leads me through the house. It’s beautiful. The detail in the crown modeling and art-like wallpaper are so unique. I gawk at the walls as we walk through each room. She leads the way through the double front doors to a carriage where I’m met by the strange professor.

“Merci,” I thank Joséphine, though the experience wasn’t the most enjoyable.

She bows her head and leaves to return inside. I approach the professor, who’s dressed in the traditional french male attire of the time, wig in all. For a moment, it takes my breath away. I read so many books and seen so many movies about the era but nothing as felt more real than this.

“Nice wig,” I tease a bit, stifling a giggle.

“Dido,” he jokes in return.

“My head feels ten pounds heavier,” I poke at the cotton ball on my head. “How do I balance it?”

“You’ll learn. Takes practice.” The professor chuckles then snap his fingers for the footman to open the door of the carriage. Gesturing toward the door, he allows me to enter first.

I swift my gaze toward our mode of transpiration. I’ve never seen an authentic 18th-century carriage of this magnitude. The gold frame and light baby blue fabric are luxurious. I can only imagine how much history is within this carriage, at least will be I suppose.

“Are you admiring it or afraid of it?” The professor chuckles beside me.

“It’s… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I’m not saying I entirely believe him with his fairytales but nonetheless, this experience so far has been like passages from my textbooks. I can feel him staring at me as I examine the carriage. It’s all too remarkable for me to look away.

“I see Joséphine did your hair and makeup as well, good,” He states with a grin. “If we’ll be at court, you’ll need to look the part.”

Before I have the chance to question his meaning, he offers me his hand to help me into the carriage. I’m hesitant. After all, this dude did kidnap me. As for his reasoning, I’m still in the dark. All I know is, possibly, that I’m in an entirely different country and almost three hundred years in the past, so he claims. I have no idea who he is or why he has me here. Yet, for some strange reason, I find myself trusting him slightly and against my better judgment. It’s his eyes. Every time I fall into them my gut tells me to trust him.

The professor sits across from me and settles in. The footman shuts the door and the driver calls to the horses to go along.

“Court?” I interrogate him, “as in the royal court?”

“Yes, precisely,” he replies as if it makes perfect sense.

He must be bonkers! There is no way we could be on our way to Versailles during the era of the monarchy and dressed like this!

“Right, right…” I raise a brow, “and who is king exactly?”

He rubs his hands up and down his thighs nervously. “That’s where you come in!”

“Me?!”

Quite frankly some rulers were just plain crazy and were temperamental! Plus, the French and English were constantly at war during the 18th century! This isn’t the time to visit for peace and quiet.

He scoffs, leaning forward to keep his voice down. “That’s the reason you’re here Miss Historian! You’re in charge of knowing everything about every century we visit!”

I narrow my eyes, “every century? Last I checked I never agreed to travel across time with you?!”

If that’s even what we’re doing. If he expects me to go to another destination with him he’s sorely mistaken.

He grins, not believing me for a second. “Oh, so you much rather go home? Sit behind a desk instead of meeting the very people you’re studying?”

If any of this was true, he’d have a point. I’ll never grant him the satisfaction of admitting that.

I scoff, “fine! You said it was 1778, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” he answers quickly.

“Okay… ” I stare up at the ceiling to focus, reviewing my knowledge of the French monarchy. It appears in my mind like a timeline. I mumble, “1778… that’s in the middle of the American Revolution which means it’s before the French Revolution so the king would be… oh my god!”

My hand flies up to my mouth. I can’t believe it! If this man is telling the truth, then we’re in quite the most interesting year.

His eyes widen in horror and he grips my hands between us. “What?! What is it?!”

“Louis XVI! Louis XVI is the king! Oh, this is too good! Marie freaking Antoinette! Seriously? I can’t believe this!” I squeal, jumping up and down in my seat uncontrollably, causing the carriage to rock.

A part of me is starting to fall for the man’s word, perhaps I really am in 1778. At least then I could actually meet Louis XVI. For a second, I felt myself believing wholeheartedly.

“Is he cruel?! Kind Hearted?! Best king France has ever had?!”

I laugh, has he never picked up a history book?

“Sir, have you never heard of Louis XVI before? He’s infamous! What about the French Revolution? I mean… if we really are where you say we are, we’re living in it!”

He pouts, peering at me like an offended child. “No actually, I have heard of him! I guess you could just say he’s after my time. I’m better acquainted with his father,” he adds in a mutter.

I scrunch my eyebrows, “after your time? How could he be after-”

He cuts me off, “forget it. I’ll explain at a better time. As for now, your job is to inform me of everything I need to know about the French court. I know how to handle royalty and the protocol. All I need is for you to help me with the background information on these individuals. Though all royals are superficially the same I have to gain their trust on a personal level. In exchange, I’ll help you play the part of a lady of the court.”

I huff as I readjust my skirt, somewhat offended. Simply because I wasn’t born an aristocrat with a stick up my butt doesn’t mean I don’t know how to act civilized.

“I know how to be a lady! I can curtsy and whatnot!”

He stifles a laugh, raising a brow. “Y/N, have you ever even met a royal?”

He’s right once again. In my defense, America isn’t exactly crawling with monarchs. We got rid of that whole issue centuries ago.

“No…” I timidly admit.

He has a point, which annoys me. I may have been taught table manners and proper etiquette by my grandmother growing up but her rules are nothing compared to a royal court’s. I would be walking into a lion’s den without Danny’s guidance.

“So then, do we have a deal?” He holds out his hand. A mischievous grin coats his lips.

For all I know, I could be agreeing to anything. He could turn back on his word at any moment. I don’t trust him, not in the slightest. Yet, If I agree for the time being, it could buy me my freedom. I take a chance.

I shake his hand, “deal.”

His eyes widen, “almost forgot!”

He reaches into his frilly French jacket pocket and reveals a key. A standard old, metal key with a long string attached.

“You’ll be needing it.” He assures me as he shifts toward me and begins to put it around my neck.

“What is it?” I ask, still in awe.

“A key…” He sasses.

“Ugh,” I roll my eyes, “obviously! I’m asking why do I need it?”

“It’s to my Tardis,” he states as though everyone has one.

“What the hell-”

The carriage jolts to a stop abruptly. Soon, the driver opens the door for us and offers his hand for assistance. My mind is still focused on the blast the professor just sent in my direction. I’m still stuck on his statement, he’s after my time. What did he mean by that? Then, I learn that magic is basically real, along with time-travel.

My train of thought is soon interrupted by the professor calling my name. I hadn’t noticed him climb out of the carriage I was so deep within myself. I accept the hand of the driver and step down out of the carriage. Many of them that are similar to our own are lined up single file. Danny offers me his arm which I take instantly. I gawk at the copper-colored palace with gold embellishments. I’ve always wanted to visit Versailles. I never would have guessed it would be in this setting. I imagined hundreds of tourists with their phones out, too occupied to enjoy the magnificence in front of them. Instead, I’m surrounded by men in bright colored breeches and women wearing wigs that could reach the heavens.

“Are you alright?” he peers down at me, worried.

“Yes, it’s just… I’ve never seen anything like it,” I admit, breathlessly.

Men and women dressed in extravagant jewels and clothes. Only the highest social figures are gawking at the palace, arm in arm.

“It’s the king’s twenty-fourth birthday ball,” he informs me as we stroll into the palace doors behind various couples of the time.

My pulse must be through the roof I’m so anxious. My mind is racing. Danny is putting on a convincing show that we belong here. He has is his role well-rehearsed it appears.

“Stay close,” he instructs, searching the entrance hall.

I grip his arm, halting before we go in.

“What is it?” The man questions.

“What your name?” I comprehend I’ve never learned it. With everything going on, there was never a proper moment. Now, I realize there will never be.

“I’m the Doctor,” he answers with a sly grin.

“’ The Doctor?’ Well, I’m sorry to break it to you but there’s more than just one doctor in the world,” I laugh, this man can’t be serious.

“No,” he huffs, “my name is Doctor. I’m a... you know what, never mind. I’ll-”

“You’ll explain later,” I finish.

“Look at you catching on quickly,” he compliments and pinches my cheek. I swat his hand away with a frown. Geez, he’s annoying. He’s like the Energizer bunny in human form.

“Let’s head inside,” he instructs, guiding me along.

I adjust my skirt briefly, correcting any wrinkles from the ride here. He clears his throat and my eyes meet him as he gestures toward the ceiling with a smirk. It takes every cell of my being and a lot of self-control to not let my jaw drop. Absentmindedly, my arm falls from the Doctor as he continues to walk down the Hall of Mirrors and leaves me in awe of the architecture. I slowly come to a stop as I become engrossed in the details.

It suddenly hits me like a pile of bricks, this is all real. Everything the Doctor has said must be true. I went along with his word but now I truly believe it. The hand-painted ceiling, the solid gold statues that reflect in the mirrors, the marble walls surrounding them, and the crystal chandeliers that line the grand hall. The remaining light of the setting sun pours in through the windows and bounces off the floor. There is no possible way Versailles could be like this in modern times, it’s far too untouched and pristine. This means I’m honestly, without a doubt, in the year 1778. My heart feels as though it’s plummeted to my stomach. Oh my God, this is remarkable! This is every history lover’s dream! I’m living out my textbooks. I’m experiencing history first hand!

It must’ve taken the Doctor very little time to notice my absence. He calmly approaches me, visibly aware of my clear baffled state. I believe my reaction is valid considering the circumstances.

He whispers, “is it what you imagined based on your history books?”

I shake my head, nearly speechless. All I can do is gawk at everyone and everything around me. “It’s beyond anything I could imagine!” I finally break my attention away from the exquisite art to meet his gaze. “I believe you,” I confess to him.

Slight grin forms on the edge of his lips and his eyes fall to the floor with a slight chuckle. “I always knew you would…” He mutters under his breath.

Offering me his arm, he escorts me into a crowded ballroom. The Doctor must know the layout of the palace quite well unless he’s simply following the flow of the crowd. An orchestra plays in the background as drinks are passed around by servants with trays. I spin around slowly, staring up at the ceiling and chandeliers. All of the stories in these walls, the royals that have lived here, what will become of this palace, my head is spinning as I review the details. The music comes to a sudden halt along with the movement and banter in the room. All attention turns toward the double doors across the ballroom as they swing open. People shuffle closer, peering over each other’s heads to sneak a peek. Trumpets play a melody familiar to anyone, the signal of the King and Queen entering the room. Through the space between heads, I can see glimpses of the young notorious couple. Marie Antoinette’s tall and decorated wig, her pale and porcelain-like skin, her extraordinary gown, all perfect. The crowd disburses and form their miniature groups again. The Doctor snatches two champagne flutes from a passing tray and hands one to me.

“Doctor,” I whisper to him cautiously, in case of prying ears. “Why are we here? Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic but I don’t understand the purpose?”

He pulls me aside behind one of the pillars for some privacy. He scans the room to make sure no one is watching us. His actions have me wondering if our purpose here could put us in danger.

“How much do you know about the monarchs and the palace itself?”

My brows rise in astonishment, I start to question myself on how he doesn’t find the answer obvious by now. I spent a whole semester studying King Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, the French Revolution, and Versailles alone. Of course, that doesn’t make me an expert by any means but I would say I’m well-read.

He catches on to my sass and dismisses it. “Fine, fine fine, so you know a lot! Tell me more please!”

I nod, gathering the important bits from memory to summarize it all. To condense all of this history into such a brief yet crucial conversation is anything but fun.

“Okay well, I think the most important fact we have to consider is currently Her Majesty is pregnant with the couple’s first child. The baby will be a girl. Her name will be Marie-Thérèse-Charlotte de Bourbon. The couple will attempt to have more children, to have a male heir, but none will live past the age of eleven. The French Revolution won’t begin for another ten years. Both the King and the Queen will lose their lives, sadly, along with many members of the aristocracy. Then, Napoleon will become emperor. As for Versailles, it was completed in 1668 for King Louis XIV. During the revolution basically, everything will be taken from here. In modern times, the 21st century, most of it will be returned. That’s a summary of some basic information.”

The Doctor gawks at me, “you know all of this by heart? You wonderful little human. How do you memorize it all?”

I shrug, glancing in the direction of where I last saw the royal couple. “I suppose I’ve always cared so much about these people and their stories that it never really leaves me.”

The unfamiliar faces in this room are forming the world I must live in hundreds of years from now and none of them know it. The world will be completely altered by the end of the century. Every single person in this room is set to believe their roles here are unwavering. Little do they know that in less than a decade, all of it will be gone, nothing but a memory.

“I forgot to mention,” The Doctor mumbles and holds up the key that has slipped beneath the front of my dress. “Never lose it. Draw as little attention to it as possible. While we’re here, your job is to play Miss Know-it-all and mine is to find this journal.”

We’re interrupted by the grandfather clock when it dings in the corner. The Doctor’s head whips over in its direction, he checks the time.

“I have to go,” he informs me in a rush.

“But I-” I start, having a million questions.

“I’ll be back. Blend into the crowd! We’ll leave as soon as possible,” he instructs before disappearing into the cluster of people.

I stand awkwardly alone, afraid to move the slightest step. I’m surrounded by a bunch of dead people. Well, they’re not dead now, but when I’m alive they will be. I’m Versailles, holy shit! And I’m not even on a tourist trip to Versailles, no I’m at a ball in the Revolution Era! I would jump up and down squealing but I doubt that’s allowed. Instead, I’ll just smile to myself like an idiot and sip on this champagne.

__________________

Masterlist

#eleventh doctor x reader #doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x you #eleventh doctor #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfic #dw #fanfic #imagine

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intothestrawberryjar · 3 years

Text

Day 20: French

Again, I’m late, but what can you do.

This may perhaps be the dumbest thing I ever write, but I don’t care. I’ll let you find out for yourself, but you were warned.

As always, special thanks to my editor @moonberry-chieenne, who helped me cut down on words. Wouldn’t be able to do this without them, so thanks!

Title: French

Word Count: 1000

Summary: Lucas attempts to win Ava over by challenging her to a duel over cultural differences. What could go wrong?

Warnings: This is really dumb, so prepare yourself for the level of dumbassery Lucas is about to get into.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301724

A rare peace stretched out over the warehouse of Unit Bravo. Farah annoyed Morgan with poodle pictures that slowly withered away at the grumpy vampire’s insides, Nat pondered the thoughts of some random philosopher she met centuries ago, and Ava sparred with a training dummy, like usual.

A series of sharp knocks resounded throughout the building. Morgan made a beeline to the door, desperate to escape Farah’s poodle rampage. Yet, the sight that awaited her on the other side of the door may have been worse.

“Oh shit.”

There stood Lucas Langford, his short brown hair kept under a godawful burgundy beret. A single red rose lay between his smiling teeth, and an enormous baguette was held between his arms. All in all, the sight was perhaps the most disgusting thing Morgan had seen ever since Nat had dragged her along to see a play about two literal candles “waxing” poetic about each other and the joys of the waxy flesh. Ok, it wasn’t that bad, but still.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle. If I may be so bold, your beauty could light even the hardest of hearts.”

“What in the absolute fuck do you think you’re doing?” Morgan’s harsh words had no effect on Lucas and unfortunately cannot stop the holy power of his terrible French accent,

“Ah yes, back in France we do like our lovers to be a bit feisty. However, that is not why I am here. Where is Du Mortain?”

“You’re joking, right? This is all some big, elaborate joke? Tell me you’re joking or else I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“No, my saucy lover, this is no elaborate scheme. I must speak to your commander, for honor, for glory, and most importantly, FOR THE MOTHERLAND!”

“I’m going to die. I am literally going to die, and it is all your fault.” At this point, Farah and Nat had poked their heads around a corner and caught a glimpse of Lucas. Morgan spun around, her gaze full of ire directed right at Nat.

“You. You taught him this didn’t you?”

“Well… um, Lucas might have asked me for a few cultural lessons and I might have… given them to him.” Nat’s stuttering reply only serves to fuel Morgan’s rage.

“Ava is going to KILL us when she finds this!”

“When I find what?” The thunderous steps of Ava’s feet came echoing down the hall.

Morgan turned to Lucas, the fury in her gaze bright enough to scorch. “If I were you, I would get out of her sight before she squashes you into a mushy pulp.”

“What a ridiculous notion, mademoiselle, I shall face my enemy and show her once and for all the true supremacy of France over England. FOR THE MOTHERLAND!” Lucas dashed toward the towering mountain of vampire muscle, baguette in hand.

“Dear Ava Du Mortain, I hereby challenge you to a duel to prove once and for all that France is the best country of all time! Do you accept?”

For a moment, everything was quiet. Morgan and Nat covered their faces with their hands, while Farah looked on with amazement. Ava stared at Lucas, and Lucas stared back with the face of a man completely ready to die on the hill he had set his life upon. Then, Ava spoke.

“I accept your challenge, monsieur.”

Everybody’s jaws dropped. Lucas’s most of all. He had gone into this expecting to make Ava mad, yank her chain a little to endear her to him. Probably not his best idea, but it was all he had. But now, he actually had to duel the commander of his mother’s team of supernatural agents. And all he had to fight her with was a piece of stale French bread. What could possibly go wrong?

One hour later.

The duel was set for dusk. Ava, with Nat as her second approached the duelling circle they had drawn in the middle of the woods. Lucas, with Farah as his second, also approached the circle. Each combatant had a baguette in their hands, ready to fight to first strike. Morgan stood in the middle of the circle, to act as referee.

“Now, before we get started, let’s go over the rules. I want a good, clean fight, no rough housing, no dirty tricks. First strike wins. Now, fight for your countries!”

Ava and Lucas began circling each other, waiting for the other to strike. Then, as quickly as a cobra, Lucas struck. Ava quickly sidestepped him, bringing her baguette to her shoulder to make a quick, clean strike. Before she could however, Lucas spun around and held his baguette out in front of him. The impact sent him stumbling back a few steps, and Ava used the advantage to quickly thrust her baguette at his chest. Lucas jumps back, and the pair quickly begin a back and forth of thrusting and parrying, each struggling to get an advantage over the other.

Suddenly, Ava touched her baguette to the ground, and struck with a swing so powerful it could’ve split a man’s skull, yet only managed to split her opponent’s baguette. Lucas caught the other half before it hit the ground and hurled it at Ava’s face, temporarily blinding her. He took the advantage to make one last stand. It was now or never.

“VIVE LA FRANCE!” And with that war cry, Lucas charged forward, only to trip on the baguette half he had thrown. Falling to the ground, Lucas looked up to find a particularly pointed baguette aimed at his throat.

“Do you wield, monsieur?”

“Oui, mademoiselle. I yield.”

“And you admit that England is superior in every single way to France, and that her glory will live on through the eons?”

“Oui.” He whined sadly, like a dog out in the rain.

“Well then, I’m glad we could settle this honorably.” Ava lent her hand to the fallen patriot, showing him mercy. Lucas happily accepted, realizing that maybe, just maybe, his stupid plan may have worked after all.

#the wayhaven chronicles #pure crack #why is lucas so dumb? the world may never know

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mymelodyheart · 4 years

Text

Highland Destiny Chapter 7 ~Vive La France~

Claire carefully pulled out a box from her wardrobe. It was a box that contained Frank's important documents, among other things. Geillis had mentioned the name Jared Fraser in a conversation the previous night while they were discussing Jaime, and somewhere on the back of her head, the name rang a bell. She had seen it written somewhere before. But where?

She browsed through all the papers and finally pulled one out that caught her eye. On the letterhead, it said Château Cheval Blanc. Claire had seen this document in the past but never paid close attention to it, just like with the rest of the papers Frank left behind. After her husband died, her lawyer had gone through everything she bequeathed and her endowment fund policies, but nothing registered at that time because of the grief she was going through. Not wanting to deal with the bureaucracy that comes after the death of a family member, all the papers have been put away to be forgotten. Now, looking at the single piece of paper in her hand, Claire Beauchamp just realised she was a 15% shareholder of the company Château Cheval Blanc, formerly owned by the late Jared Fraser.

..........

James Fraser was watching Claire from the bedroom door as he leaned on the door frame. She was putting away a box labelled "FRANK" into the wardrobe. He wondered if she still missed her late husband. The thought of her thinking of another man, deceased or alive, didn't sit well in his wame. It felt like an overwhelming burn blossoming at the bottom of its pit only to rise up to his chest and make his heart constrict. "Sassenach, I have to go soon," he said softly.

Distracted, she looked at his direction. "Oh right, I forgot you have a plane to catch...give me a sec." She was frowning and seemed lost in her thoughts. Will she miss me? Studying her surreptitiously, he noticed how small she looked dressed in nothing but his shirt and that ridiculous white woollen socks she loved to wear when at home. With her hair loose and wild, she had her reading glasses perched on her head buried in the riot of curls. When Claire did finally come to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his chest beaming at him with her cheeks flushed and her lips still swollen from his kisses. She smelled of bergamot oil and wildflowers, and her breath of coffee. "Right soldier, have a safe trip. Enjoy Paris for me!" She stood on tiptoes and gave him a kiss, her lips soft and warm and very inviting.

He looked down at her bright amber eyes and once again he was drawn to its bottomless pools of whisky gold. "Christ Sassenach, I will be missing ye so much. I wish ye were coming with me." He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head to give her a thorough kiss. The sounds she made at the back of her throat was driving him insane with lust, making leaving difficult. It was only two hours ago they made love, and he felt like doing it all over again.

"I will miss you too, but you'll be back tomorrow night...so enjoy while you're there," she whispered. "Besides, you'll be too preoccupied to think of me. You must be one very important man to be sent to Paris on a business mission." She nuzzled her face at the base of his throat, careful not to disturb his tie while her small hands made their way under his suit, causing him to smile.

"I guess I have my use. How about ye? What will ye do without me?" he asked, his forefinger caressing the lines of her jaw while his other hand slipped under her shirt and settled underneath the waistband of her panties. He wanted her to say, I don't know what I'll do without you. Or something ridiculous like , I will feel lost without you.

"Well...I have friends coming over tonight. Geillis, Joe and Tom. We'll be watching rugby with a few pizzas and wine thrown in..." she replied, her fingers weaving through his hair at the nape of his neck, making goosebumps rise on his skin.

Jamie stiffened at the mention of Tom's name but maintained his cool. "Alright, no wild parties. I ken what ye're like when ye've had a bit too much to drink..." What was she thinking? This home was their bubble away from the prying eyes of the world.

"Like I lose all my inhibitions? Like I did with you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" she ribbed, as she ran her hands down his back to momentarily rest on his arse and then slowly glide up again from the base of his spine to his shoulder blades.

He smiled despite having mixed feelings about Tom Christie coming over to the cottage. "I'm having difficulty leaving ye Sassenach, and yet ye're teasing me." She stood so close, he wanted her to cling to him and wrap her legs around his waist. He could have easily lifted her up to him, but he wanted so badly for her to make that move.

"Oh, so am I a tease now? Look who's talking." She laughed as she released him. "Alright soldier, on you go...you don't want to miss your flight." But I don't want to go. Ask me to stay.

Instead of letting go, he held her tight and searched her face. Jamie wanted to say something...anything, but for once, he was at a loss for words. Not that he didn't want to say what he wished to convey, but because he didn't know how to say it. The only thing he knew was that his feelings for Claire were too powerful for words, so instead, he showed her with his kiss.

..........

Normally, the first thing James Fraser would do when he arrived in Paris was to call Annalise de Marillac, his on and off girlfriend/lover for the last 4 years and a well-known socialite among the Parisienne celebrious. Twice they were engaged and twice she broke off their engagement, not because of Jamie but because of what she perceived her life would be living in Scotland. She loved the celebrity lifestyle and the fame that came with it, and Jamie preferred a quiet life in the highlands. Although they have broken up amicably, they have maintained a no-strings-attached sexual relationship whenever Jamie came to Paris.

A celebrity in his own right, after a successful breakthrough with Frisealach in Europe, James Fraser never cared for the limelight. His publicist, François de St. Germain insisted he maintained a well-publicised profile to capture the interest of the international market. Following his advice proved to be profitable for his business, and soon he was rubbing shoulders with the elite, and world-renowned whisky connoisseurs. Jamie was often photographed with and linked to beautiful women in tabloid newspapers - all in the name of marketing and promotions for Frisealach Distillery. With his good looks, charm and business acumen at such a young age, it didn't take long before he became the darling of European media, and his whisky was most sought after.

His fame led his uncle Jared to approach him for help when his wine business, Château Cheval Blanc, the biggest in France started to fail due to some unfavourable judgments in the past. It was barely surviving and was only being propped up by investors who acquired shares on a condition to invest a substantial amount of money. The biggest shareholder was Annalise de Marillac's father, the ambitious Frédéric de Marillac. Before Jamie's uncle died, his only dying wish from his nephew was to make sure the company stayed under Fraser's name, and he promised his uncle he would do what he can.

In the last five years, Jamie had made it his mission to buy out all the shareholders but only managed to accumulate 40% of the shares of the company. When he offered to buy out Frédéric de Marillac's 45%, it was turned down even when the offer was double its value. After finding out Jamie was seeing his daughter, Frédéric Marillac agreed to the proposition under the condition he married Annalise. Frédéric knew Jamie was desperate to have the company under sole ownership. And Frédéric also knew that Jamie's marriage to his daughter would boost his own business, recognising the fact that his prominence was quickly rising and opening important doors in the corporate world. Although Jaime was willing to marry Annalise for the sake of keeping the company in Fraser's name, he wasn't prepared to give up living in Scotland, and Annalise wasn't ready to leave the celebrity lifestyle.

When Annalise broke off their engagement, it became a race for the two businessmen to find the elusive 15% shareholder for control over the business. In reality, James Fraser had no power over the company, but in the media, he was the image that represented Château Cheval Blanc.

..........

Jamie walked in into his luxury suite in The Four Seasons Hôtel George V and threw his travelling case onto the massive, luxurious bed. He had always stayed there whenever he came to Paris because he knew Annalise loved the extravagant, sumptuous settings. He had booked the room weeks in advance before he met Claire, and now, looking at his surrounding, he felt hollow and empty and the beauty of it meaningless.

He reached for his phone and instead of calling Annalise, he called Claire.

"Sassenach? Hi, it's me, Jamie."

"Jaime! Of course, it's you, silly! Who else would call me by that name? Are you in Paris already?" Her voice sounded like a balm to his soul.

"Aye, I just came into my room," he replied, smiling to himself as he loosened his tie and leaned back against the headboard. "Mmm, are ye alright, Sassenach?

"Yeah, I'm great. You?" He could hear running water.

"Aye, I'm just getting comfortable. What are ye doing? Are ye busy?" I hope not.

Claire laughed. "I knew you were about to ask that. I'm having a bath right now. I went for a walk earlier in the fields to pick some wildflowers but came home all drenched. I was so cold I had to run a bath. That's Scottish weather for you!"

"Sassenach?"

There was a long pause before Claire replied. "Yes, Jaime?"

"I really miss you."Jaime wanted to say more, but he was unsure what.

"Oh Jamie, I missed you too but seriously, did you call up just to tell me that? Don't you have work to do?" She sounded amused.

Ignoring the question, Jamie asked, "What do ye miss about me?"

"Well, if you must know, I missed the sound of the floorboard creaking under your weight whenever you're walking around," she said giggling.

"Is that all?" He asked in a more serious tone.

Jamie heard Claire sigh. "Are you homesick Jamie? Don't worry, in just over 24 hours you'll be home soon."

"Aye, ye're right Sassenach, I'll be home soon to ye." Jamie felt comforted by this thought.

..........

Jamie had made up his mind. In truth, he only wanted to save Château Cheval Blanc, because it was his uncle's request and he wanted to preserve his family heritage. It was time to cut off his ties with the de Marillacs. He will make one last offer, and if Frédéric turns it down, then it's time to move on. Jamie knew he had done his best, and if the meeting turned out to be unsuccessful, nothing more could be done.

As expected, Frédéric turned down the offer since he knew the business in Château Cheval Blanc was picking up again after Jamie's name was linked to the company. But Jamie wanted no more part of it and had arranged with his lawyer, Ned Gowan, to prepare the papers for the sale of his own shares. Not surprisingly, a couple of hours after the meeting concluded, Annalise sent him a text.

Darling, I heard you were in town. Why didn't you call? Anyway, we need to talk. Maybe I was hasty breaking off our engagement. I was young, and I loved the parties, but now I'm ready to settle down. We can live in Scotland if you wish. Or wherever in the world. I can't talk now, but I will be coming to Scotland in the next few days. We can talk about our wedding then.

Jamie tried to call Annalise to tell her it was over, but she didn't answer the phone.

.........

Claire had just come out of the shower, her hair still wet and wearing only Jamie's shirt, as she made way to the kitchen. The plan was to make quiche for Jamie's supper when he arrives. Earlier in the day she had quickly tidied up the lounge, getting rid of the evidence of previous night's rugby party with her friends. She was in the middle of chopping leeks when a car parked outside. Unable to see from the window, she wondered who it might be. Looking at the clock, it was only 4 pm, and Jamie wasn't expected until 9 that evening. She was just heading for the bedroom to put a robe on when the front door suddenly opened.

"Jamie! You're home early!"

Jamie dropped his bag and coat on the floor, and without saying a word, he walked towards Claire in 3 strides and lifted her in his arms. Before she could say a word, he had her pinned against the wall, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing her hungrily.

"Oh God, Sassenach I missed ye so much," he muttered when he finally released her mouth for some air. He proceeded to kiss her neck as his hands roamed her body and stopped when he realised she wasn't wearing anything underneath. "Christ Claire, what are ye doing walking around the house half-naked? What if ye had visitors?"

She laughed. "Visitors came and went last night. And...by the way, welcome home soldier. I wasn't expecting you this early."

Still holding her against him, Jamie carried Claire to the dining area and sat down on a chair with her straddling him. He nestled his face into her neck, his arms pulling her body closer. "Weel, work was done early, and I couldna wait to come home to ye...so I bought an earlier ticket."

"Jamie," she whispered, "you feel at home here, with me?"

He lifted his head and smiled. "Aye Sassenach, I do. Ye didna mind having me around, dae ye?"

"No, Jamie. I don't mind having you around," she replied, her arms wrapping around his neck.

They sat hugging each other for some time, not speaking, just holding each other close, listening to each other's heartbeat.

"Sassenach?"

"Mmmm?"

"Will ye accompany on Saturday as my date to a charity ball? Frisealach will be hosting the event to raise money for St. Agnes, and I would like it verra much if ye can come."

Claire smiled. "Of course, Jaime I would love to." And with that, she pulled his head closer and kissed the top of his head.

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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elcinelateleymickyandonie · 3 years

Text

Lynn Bari.

Filmografía

Conoce al barón (1933) como College Girl

Dancing Lady (1933) como Chorus Girl

Soy Suzanne (1933) como miembro de la audiencia

Search for Beauty (1934) como concursante de belleza

Caravana (1934) como Blonde Gypsy Girl at Inn

David Harum (1934) como joven ciudadana

Coming Out Party (1934) como invitado a la fiesta

Bottoms Up (1934) como Chorine

¡Levántate y anima! (1934) como secretario de la Casa Blanca / Chorine

Handy Andy (1934) como Chica en la estación de tren

365 noches en Hollywood (1934) como Showgirl

Música en el aire (1934) como bailarina

Charlie Chan en París (1935) como patrón del club

Bajo presión (1935) como Blonde Brooklyn Girl

El gran asesinato del hotel (1935) como recepcionista de Wilson

Los escándalos de George White de 1935 (1935) como Chorine

Aumento de diez dólares (1935) como secretario

Spring Tonic (1935) como dama de honor

Thomas dudoso (1935) como aspirante a actriz

El joven atrevido (1935) como dama de honor

El infierno de Dante (1935) como Beach Girl

Curly Top (1935) como patrón del parque de atracciones

Bienvenido a casa (1935) como dama de honor

Orquídeas para ti (1935) como Southern Belle Shop Patron

Redheads on Parade (1935) como camarera

Ladies Love Danger (1935) como Chorus Girl

El engaño gay (1935) como Royal Banquet Extra / Dance Extra

Charlie Chan en Shanghai (1935) como segundo operador de centralita de hotel

Way Down East (1935) como Dancing Girl at Party

Metropolitan (1935) como Chorus Girl

La música es mágica (1935) como cajero de teatro

Thanks a Million (1935) como operador telefónico

El hombre que rompió el banco en Montecarlo (1935) como Flower Girl

¡No les muestres piedad! (1935) como miembro de Crowd Scene

Soldado profesional (1935) como Gypsy Dancer

King of Burlesque (1936) como bailarín

Mi matrimonio (1936) como Pat

Tuvo que suceder (1936) como secretario

Hombre de la canción y la danza (1936) como corista

Everybody's Old Man (1936) como Secretaria, Miss Burke

El gran Ziegfeld (1936) como Ziegfeld Girl

Gentle Julia (1936) como Jovencita fuera de la iglesia / Chica celosa en el baile

Número privado (1936) como jugador

Pobre niña rica (1936) como recepcionista de estación de radio.

36 horas para matar (1936) como viajero

Dormitorio de niñas (1936) como estudiante

Canta, nena, canta (1936) como telefonista de hotel

Estrella por una noche (1936) como Chorus Girl

Damas enamoradas (1936) como empleada de la tienda de ropa

15 Maiden Lane (1936) como participante de la escena de la multitud

Desfile de piel de cerdo (1936) como espectador de un partido de fútbol

Under Your Spell (1936) como pasajero de avión

Crack-Up (1936) como oficinista

Woman-Wise (1937) como secretaria

On the Avenue (1937) como Chorus Girl / Mrs.Mary Jackson

Time Out for Romance (1937) como Dama de honor

Love Is News (1937) como 'Babe' - Operadora de centralita

Advertencia justa (1937) como Candy Counter Girl

Cafe Metropole (1937) como Cafe Patron

Este es mi asunto (1937) como invitado a la fiesta con Keller

Canta y sé feliz (1937) como secretaria

Wee Willie Winkie (1937) como participante de la escena de la multitud

Ella tuvo que comer (1937) como participante de la escena de la multitud

Despierta y vive (1937) como Chorus Girl

La dama escapa (1937) como dama de honor

No puedes tenerlo todo (1937) como Chorus Girl

Esposa, médico y enfermera (1937) como fiestera

La vida comienza en la universidad (1937) como Coed

Lancer Spy (1937) como Miss Fenwick

Ali Baba va a la ciudad (1937) como Harem Girl

45 padres (1937) como telefonista

Amor y silbidos (1937) como patrón del club nocturno

City Girl (1938) como camarera

La baronesa y el mayordomo (1938) como Klari - Maid

Caminando por Broadway (1938) como Sandra De Voe

Rebecca de Sunnybrook Farm (1938) como Myrtle

Moto's Gamble (1938) como Penny Kendall

Batalla de Broadway (1938) como Marjorie Clark

Josette (1938) como la Sra. Elaine Dupree

Speed to Burn (1938) como Marion Clark

Siempre adiós (1938) como Jessica Reid

Daré un millón (1938) como Cecelia

Conoce a las chicas (1938) como Terry Wilson

Francotiradores (1938) como Dianne Woodward

Pardon Our Nerve (1939) como Terry Wilson

El regreso de Cisco Kid (1939) como Ann Carver

Persiguiendo el peligro (1939) como Renée Claire

Las noticias se hacen de noche (1939) como Maxine Thomas

Hotel para mujeres (1939) como Barbara Hunter

Hollywood Cavalcade (1939).

Empaca tus problemas (1939) como Yvonne

Charlie Chan en City in Darkness (1939) como Marie Dubon

City of Chance (1940) como Julie Reynolds

Libre, rubia y 21 (1940) como Carol Northrup

Lillian Russell (1940) como Edna McCauley

Terrestre (1940) como Linda Reynolds

Pier 13 (1940) como Sally Kelly

Kit Carson (1940) como Dolores Murphy

Charter Pilot (1940) como Marge Duncan

Sleepers West (1941) como Kay Bentley

Sangre y arena (1941) como Encarnación

Sun Valley Serenade (1941) como Vivian Dawn

Vamos rápido (1941) como Rose Coughlin

Luna sobre su hombro (1941) como Susan Rossiter

El esnob perfecto (1941) como Chris Mason

La noche antes del divorcio (1942) como Lynn Nordyke

Agente secreto de Japón (1942) como Kay Murdock

The Falcon Takes Over (1942) como Ann Riordan

La droga magnífica (1942) como Claire Harris

Esposas de orquesta (1942) como Jaynie Stevens

China Girl (1942) como Capitán Fifi

Hola, Frisco, hola ([1943) como Bernice Croft

El Puente de San Luis Rey (1944) como Michaela Villegas

Tampico (1944) como Katherine 'Kathy' Hall

Dulce y humilde (1944) como Pat Stirling

Capitán Eddie (1945) como Adelaide Frost Rickenbacker

Shock (1946) como la enfermera Elaine Jordan

Hogar dulce homicidio (1946) como Marian Carstairs

Margie (1946) como Miss Isabel Palmer

Nocturne (1946) como Frances Ransom

Hombre de Texas (1948) como Zee Simms - alias Zee Heath

El asombroso Sr.X (1948) como Christine Faber

El chico de Cleveland (1949) como Katherine Jackson

Subiría la montaña más alta (1951) como Mrs. Billywith

On the Loose (1951) como Alice Bradley

Lado soleado de la calle (1951) como Mary

Sueño con Jeanie (1952) como la Sra. McDowell

¿Alguien ha visto a mi chica? (1952) como Harriet Blaisdell

Francis se une a la WACS (1954) como la mayor Louise Simpson

Abbott y Costello conocen a los Keystone Kops (1955) como Leota Van Cleef

Teatro de ciencia ficción (1955, Serie de TV) como Verda Wingate

Las mujeres de la isla Pitcairn (1956) como Maimiti

Maldito ciudadano (1958) como Pat Noble

Elfego Baca: Six Gun Law (1962) como Mrs.Simmons

Trauma (1962) como Helen Garrison

Los jóvenes fugitivos (1968) [20] como la Sra. Donford.

Apariciones en radio

1947 Teatro de verano Rexall

1947 Suspenso

1952 Screen Guild Theatre

Créditos: Tomado de Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynn_Bari

#HONDURASQUEDATEENCASA

#ELCINELATELEYMICKYANDONIE

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latristereina · 5 years

Photo

UNDERRATED RELATIONSHIP/PARTNERSHIP/FRIENDSHIP MEME 7/?: my pick: Juana Enríquez & Juan II of Aragon

The marriage of Juana Enríquez and don Juan of Aragon and Navarre was a political union, derived from a simple political expedience: the necessity to tight the bond between the adversaries of powerful don Álvaro de Luna (who, in fact, ruled in Castile), since he had gotten back in John II of Castile’s good graces. Don Diego Gómez de Sandoval, count of Castro, acted as a go-between between the admiral of Castile (Fadrique Enríquez) and the king of Navarre (Juan of Aragon). Having arranged the marriage and having obtained the consent of Alfonso V of Aragon (Juan’s older brother whom he would eventually succeed), the future spouses got betrothed – they took each other’s hands – at Torrelobatón, on 1 September 1444, in the presence of the king and queen of Castile and the prince of Asturias (future Henry IV). The bridegroom was 46, the bride 19 years old. The age difference emphasized the political nature of the union. The wedding did not take place until 1447. There were two reasons behind this delay: firstly, Rome had to be approached for the dispensation, for there existed the fourth degree of consanguinity between the betrothed, and then, the disaster of the Battle of Olmedo (1445) happened, forcing don Juan of Aragon and don Fadrique to run off to Navarre. The bride, who was already known as queen consort of Navarre, found herself in the custody of John II of Castile, who had taken over Medina de Rioseco. She recovered her liberty on 1 May 1446, thanks to the intercession of future Henry IV, but on an express condition that the wedding with her betrothed would not be celebrated without the consent of the king of Castile. The fire in the village of Atienza, which was supposed to be a part of doña Juana’s dowry, caused another delay of the admiral's matchmaking plans. Finally, John II of Castile gave the desired permission, and the young Castilian woman could receive the wedding ring from the hands of her mature, Aragonese suitor, on 13 July 1447, at Calatayud. Then, the passionate affection stirred in the heart of the Aragonese infante that he bestowed upon his second wife during their married life. According to her contemporaries, doña Juana was a beautiful, intrepid and intelligent woman. She was "charming", according to her adversary, don Pedro of Portugal, although in the pejorative sense of this word: not a charming woman but a deceitful one. It was enough to win the love of her husband. He also showed her paternal affection, for she well could be his daughter. For don Juan she always was his 'little girl’, in the moments of intimate tenderness and in those of political drama.

- Jaime Vicens Vives, Historia crítica de la vida y reinado de Fernando II de Aragón

Although he relied on his lieutenants—Carles, his wife Juana Enríquez, and later their son Fernando—he was discerning and cautious. A complex and contradictory man who was loathe to share power, Juan was infamous both for his reluctance to work with the Catalan ruling elites and his shabby treatment of his son. Carles and Juan had a deeply problematic relationship owing to the father’s unwillingness to relinquish his claim to Navarre in favor of his son, and then disinheriting him in favor of his daughter Leonor, wife of Gaston de Foix. Tensions between father and son worsened when Juan married Juana in 1444, and many of the later political problems in the Crown of Aragon can be traced to personal problems in the royal family. Juan’s miserly attitude toward the Catalans and his son did not, however, extend to his second wife. He endowed Juana with similar powers to those possessed by Maria of Castile, and in many ways she was truly co-ruler with Juan. Throughout her marriage to Juan she was one of his closest advisers and most valuable allies, traveling with him throughout Navarre and the Aragonese realms. Juan relied on her intelligence and discretion, her prodigious familial, financial, and political connections in Castile, and her tenacious and formidable negotiating skills. In 1451 he appointed her Governor of Navarre with Carles, and the next year she gave birth to Fernando, both of which further deteriorated an already troublesome relationship. In 1458 Juan appointed Carles, then thirty-three years old, as Lieutenant General in Catalunya, where he proved to be enormously popular. Juan imprisoned him on trumped up charges of treason, and when he died of tuberculosis in September 1461, accusations of foul play surfaced, accusing not only Juan but also Juana of plotting against Carles in favor of her son, Fernando (1452-1514, later Fernando II of Aragón). But Juana was nothing if not intrepid and, no newcomer to politics, she shrugged off the personal attacks and succeeded Carles as Lieutenant General. She maintained an extensive court with separate chancery and treasurer, but without the judicial and legislative offices that Maria of Castile possessed in parallel with Alfonso’s Neapolitan court. Amid the turbulence and widespread civil unrest that erupted in the wake of Carles’s death, she suppressed opposition in the towns and countryside and secured support for her husband and Fernando. In June 1461, she negotiated on behalf of the Crown to moderate the anti-royalist Capitulations of Vilafranca del Penedés. Like her sister-in-law before her, Juana sided with the remenees, a position that made her highly unpopular with the city magistrates of Barcelona and the landlords. Unlike the six Aragonese queen-lieutenants who preceded her, Juana is noted for her active involvement in military actions, notably the early campaigns of the ten-year civil war. In June 1462, she and Fernando fled from forces led by the rebellious Count of Pallars and took refuge in a royal castle in Girona only to find themselves besieged for a month. She organized the defense of the castle and held the rebels at bay until Juan and Louis XI of France arrived with military support. Although not personally at the head of an army, she was a tough negotiator who rallied and helped organize and provision an array of forces in defense of the Crown in the Ampurdán, accompanied forces to Barcelona and into Aragón. She was a key negotiator in the treaties of Sauveterre and Bayonne in May 1462 that settled the succession of Navarre and allowed the French to occupy the territories of Rousillon and Cerdanya to France in return for military support. She was virtually prisoner, with her daughter Juana, in the castle of Lárraga in 1463. Hostilities worsened, the French, Castilians, and Portuguese intervened, and periodically the Catalans ‘deposed’ (most notably in 1462) Juan, Fernando (occasionally), and Juana. Her inclusion in this list, although a dubious honor, is a clear indication of her power and importance in the political sphere. After her release from Lárraga and as the civil war intensified, she turned her attentions to governing Crown realms as Lieutenant General from 1464 until her death in 1468. With Fernando at her side, and seeking to pacify the warring factions, she presided over the Cortes of Aragón that met in Zaragoza from 1466 to 1468. During this period, she traveled extensively throughout the realms in the midst of civil war, gathering troops and supplies, negotiating with military leaders while personally attending to the business of governing—collecting taxes, holding courts of justice, dealing with the church, managing Crown lands and her own patrimony. The war outlived her by four years, but it is fitting that her indefatigable work as co-ruler with her husband and as tutor to her son mark her as the last queen-lieutenant of the Crown of Aragon.

- Theresa Earenfight, Queenship and Political Power in Medieval and Early Modern Spain

#UNDERRATED RELATIONSHIP/PARTNERSHIP/FRIENDSHIP MEME #perioddramaedit #historyedit #women in history #men in history #juana enríquez #john ii of aragon #charlize theron #robert pugh

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toujoursmiraculous · 6 years

Text

Mayura Over-Analysis! (Heroes Day - Part 2)

We start off with Ladybug worrying that Hawk Moth’s clearly had time to come up with such an elaborate plan, yet they’re completely unprepared. And Chat Noir does what he does best and reassures her that they can do it. Both Marinette and Ladybug have doubts and fears that they express, and Adrien and Chat Noir are always there to remind her of how amazing she is and she can do whatever it is that’s troubling or worrying her. Hawk Moth seriously had Guitar Villain and Frightningale perform some pretty bad-ass music for the fight. What a mood. Carapace saving Chat Noir makes me so happy. Neither knew that the other’s their best friend. Please let these two become closer in S3! Rena Rouge calling Queen Bee “Chloe” and her remark of wanting to be called Queen Bee amuses me. Using Chloe’s identity as a weak spot to start dismantling Team Miraculous was smart. And it’s really nice to see the consequences of an identity being revealed. To those that think the reveal should happen just for the sake of a reveal, this is why it hasn’t come yet. Chat Noir launching Queen Bee, idk why, but I love it. Using Dark Cupid as fuel for akumas was so brilliant! To utilize him in such a way was something that I’m sure most, if not all of us, ever thought to do. Imagine all the possibilities with fics now. Team Miraculous working together is honestly the coolest thing ever. They work so well despite it being their first time as a group. RENA ROUGE TAKING AN ARROW FOR CARAPACE AND HIS REACTION ;-; Queen Bee jumping in to protect them is just beautiful. No hesitation. no words other than to say she wasn’t going to break... Carapace’s scream when Rena Rouge got akumatized. MY HEART CAN’T HANDLE THIS. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. Just the fact that Nino gets akumatized because he’s upset over things that happen to people he cares about says all you really need to know about Nino Lahiffe. The fact Prime Queen thinks Ladybug and Chat Noir ultimately killed themselves to escape the akumas is hilarious. YES THEY TOTALLY DESTROYED THEMSELVES AND GAVE UP. /sarcasm Plagg sharing his cheese <3 Plagg loves that Camembert more than anything we’ve seen, but he actually loves Adrien more. x3 Now we see Adrien comforting Marinette (though no identity reveal!) again and reminding her of her words of hope. As they’re on opposite sides of a wall. The parallels in this show are truly one of my favorite things. “Well it’s the return of the working formula, a duo. You and I against the whole world!” TOTALLY NOT CRYING AT THIS Also remembered Tikki and Plagg know the identity of LB and CN. I wonder what they thought during this scene. ADRIEN AND MARINETTE JUMP OFF A SEVERAL DOZEN FEET/METER DROP. TOGETHER. WITH THEIR EYES SHUT. AND TRANSFORM MID-AIR. TOGETHER. WITHOUT A DOUBT THE MOST EPIC SCENE IN THE SHOW SO FAR. They said “detransformation” and I gasped. For that split second, even though I knew deep down they wouldn’t actually reveal themselves, I got scared. Even akumatized, Rena Rouge and Carapace stuck together. Awwwwww x3 VIVE LA FRANCE ! Citizens taking charge and being heroes for a day and helping Ladybug and Chat Noir! How beautiful is that? Leading the front line: Marc, Luka x3, Nora, Alya’s mother, Luka and Juleka’s mother, Marinette’s parents and grandmother. YES. WHAT A BEAUTIFUL LINEUP. OMG Manon is there too. She’s fighting to save her mother! Gina helping Ladybug up is so aww. And Alya’s mom telling her they’re so glad to see them again, and will fight to slow them down to give Ladybug and Chat Noir time save the day. These citizens are proving you don’t have to have superpowers to be a hero is such a wonderful message. The pilots circling Gorizilla like that are seriously sacrificing themselves. How easy it must be to make a mistake and crash. “Are you sure you’re not making a huge mistake? That the wish I want to make won’t be a huge benefit?” Wait, hold up. I remember seeing a picture taken in a studio of Gabriel and Ladybug in the room that holds Emilie, before we ever saw the room in Gorizilla so it was certainly not edited. What if somehow there’s some kind of truth to what he’s saying here? What if things aren’t quite as black and white as they appear? Hmmm..... “Whatever may be your wish, it must be evil seeing the chaos you’re creating.” Chat Noir being the one to say it. Wow, if only you knew you precious boy. When you think that it’s Marinette and Adrien fighting Gabriel. These two look up to Gabriel so much, and Gabriel genuinely cares about both of them. Ahhh the drama that’ll arise from this someday. Lila being stuck on the Eiffel Tower again XD Hawk Moth saying he’s a man that has nothing left to lose doesn’t sit well with me. Especially as he BEATS UP HIS SON. “Unable to stay in your form after using your powers.” So Hawk Moth clearly can, but they can’t. Yet.

CARAPACE TO THE RESCUE! Their poses together. So cool. I wonder if after all of this, Alya and Nino will start to see Chloe even slightly differently. Whoa, Hawk Moth’s actually worried about Nathalie’s well-being to beg her not to do what she’s about to do? Still unsure about her powers. Clearly they were used to protect and distract but who knows what they’re capable of. Nathalie risking her life to save him, and being appreciative of it? We’ve now learned the Miraculous is damaged, and causes harm to the holder if they wield it. I’m now thinking that happened to Emilie, and that’s why she’s in the state she’s in. He seemed to know very well how dangerous it is. But this bodes the question: What were Gabriel and Emilie doing in Tibet to try to find the grimoire and Miraculous? Did they simply crave power, or did they have another motive? Did this motive have to do with Adrien, and is that really the reason why he’s always been so sheltered? I’m not sure I understand Lila’s anger here. She sees her class together, eating and enjoying each other’s company. She could’ve had that if she didn’t mess everything up for herself. I also feel bad for Sabrina that Chloe hurt her feelings, but you’d think by now she’d know Chloe won’t eat anything homemade and is especially picky. Chloe could’ve handled it a lot better, but also Chloe handled it better than she normally would have so I’m not sure what to think. Alya’s “Nope, can’t sit here, Adrien. Nope, not here either. But why don’t you sit over there next to Marinette?” scene was awesome, and Mylene warning Marinette that he was coming was such a small thing, but very appreciated! The fact Adrien remembers EVERYTHING MARINETTE’S DONE FOR PEOPLE, and then calls her their everyday Ladybug was the best compliment Adrien could have ever given her. The love and respect he has for Ladybug, to compare Marinette to her means so much. I know Adrien said “You get to be my Ladybug” to her in Evillustrator, and that was significant as well, calling someone else “his Ladybug” but this really shows where he stands when it comes to her. Then calling her “Super Marinette”. YES MARINETTE, YOU GO GET HIM, GIRL! And of course, gotta be your clumsy self but the fact that the entire class was like in shock that Marinette was actually going to do something AND THEN SHE DID. Finally kissed Adrien! On the cheek. But it was amazing! The boy’s in shock, but he’s happy about it so this is a lovely start! The entire class is still just sitting there in shock like “Did she really just do that?” *cheers erupt* Max is still like “What?” and Kim’s the most ecstatic, it would seem, about Marinette kissing Adrien. Maybe he’s secretly a hopeless romantic. Or he really cares about Marinette’s happiness. Or both. Either way, that was sweet. And Chloe doesn’t even seem upset or anything, so that’s a bonus. Then she realizes she stepped in the pie, and pretends like she hadn’t as she watches Adrien leave and the class continues to cheer, while fireworks begin going off and the season comes to an end. This episode was way more than I ever expected it to be. I loved being shocked and surprised, seeing the different kinds of relationships and bonds, and watching the team finally work together. This episode made me genuinely happy, looking forward to more, but not leaving off on a cliffhanger that has me frustrated to know what happens next like S1 did. Instead of a direct continuation from the same day from the end of S1 to the beginning of S2, there could be a small amount of time in between S2 and S3, making them distinct, and I like that. Also, I know we live in a time where people are encouraged to be independent, not to need to rely on anyone, and not to need anyone for any reason. Ladybug and Chat Noir show that separately they can do great things, but together, they’re a force. They are at their most powerful when together, and they provide each other with what the other lacks. Mayura really showcased that, and it’s certainly going to lead into S3.

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years

Text

Prison (D’Eon and Marie)

“Alas, trapped, relegated away.”

Poor Marie, D’Eon thought.

“Stored away and awaiting the blade of a thousand deaths.”

Chevalier D’Eon could not think of a single thing that would comfort their sweet queen. The poor woman was settled on her cot in the cell, awaiting the executioner’s blade. They had done nothing wrong. Simply, they were once more relegated to the blame that was meant for another.

Cast aside by their peers, unable to defend themselves.

“My queen,” Chevalier told the poor woman. “Please, sing to me.”

Song would be their saving grace.

They would sing until the rafters themselves vibrated with the strength of their wills. She could sing like the celestial bells of the churches and the birds that flew free in the skies. She could let her voice ring out until the whole world knew of her innocence.

She was a beauty beyond par, a sweet woman who had never done anything wrong ever.

An angel, to which the sun and the stars themselves would weep at the sad affair happening around them.

Where was their master?

Where was their trial?

Could judgement be passed so easily, without the acknowledgement of the master? Was there no god in this land?

But soft, Marie’s voice began that sweet symphony. Her voice was a balm to the tormented soul. Her song was one of hope and of sorrow. It rang with the clarity of glass. It swelled like the mightiest tempest.

Their queen.

What a beautiful woman.

What a graceful woman.

To sing, even when her heart was broken and her soul was trapped within these four walls.

“Alright!”

The door to their prison was opened. Nightingale motioned them out.

“Don’t go stealing cake at three in the morning again. It’s breakfast time so everyone is now eating.”

“We’re free!” Marie bounced to her feet, cheering excitedly. “D’Eon! We’re free!”

“My queen! You shall live another day!”

“It is thanks to your brilliant idea!” Marie grabbed their hands, bouncing on her feet. “Vive la France!”

“Vive la France!”

Nightingale shook her head, glancing over her shoulder to Edmond.

“You’re going in next for trying to dig your way out of the pantry.”

The man cackled. “You think you can contain me, Mercedes.”

#drabble #drabbles #oh geez

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Wednesday 27 June 1838

6 ¾

12 55

fine morning F67 ¾° at 7 am A- up before 6 – went to sketch the church till after 9 – breakfast about 9 ¼ downstairs in the nice salle à manger – quite alone – our 2 rooms open into each other here au 1er – very comfortable – but would rath[er] be farther out of A-‘s hearing but she is in her best way this morning – A- off again to sketch the church at 10 ½ and from 10 35 to 1 I wrote out the latter ½ of Monday the whole of yesterday and so far of today – and just inked over a little of accounts when A- returned – had made a very nice little sketch of the church – best she has done so far – off from Ruffec at 1 ½ - our postilion à la basque with his blue berret and crimson sash and shirt sleeves – (1st time) – rather hilly – charming drive to Nègres single house –horses standing ready at the door – off in 2 minutes – 1st time of being so quick since our landing this time on the continent – charming, wooded country – hedges here and there – A- thinks it like England all the way from Tours – at 2 40 descent upon Mansle – extensive and belle vue – corn and vines – at 2 ¾ la poste and drive into the cour at one port cochère, and out at another (2nd postilion à la basque but crimson instead of blue berret) – immediately cross 2 little stone bridges over little brooks or something and then high raised old narrow stone bridge over grassy-bottomed, shallow, winding, islandy picturesque Charente into the pretty little old town of Mansle – pass thro’ one long narrow ill paved ill or old-built street – charming extensive plane, and excellent road and mount the hill – the air bland and delightful – walnut and Spanish chesnut trees and vines – bled, and bled du Turquie and potatoes – we had felt at Ruffec that we were journeying southwards – the building stone of Mansle seems vraiment a calcaire compacte – charming air and day and country – the light sandy soil not more than 4 or 6 in. thick – rows of wheat between rows of vines on the high ground till forest of oak-copse – hilly or undulating road – charming drive – Sabot and descend upon the small good hameau of Churet – every where, Ruffec and everywhere housing hay (as much lucerne as hay grass) – George thinks (at Churet) the wheels very hot – wanted water – (no! not required) thought the wheels hot on the sun-side – from Churet, particularly left, haies vives (quick hedges) of thorn, maple, hornbeam, etc country beautifully boisé – vines, and corn, and, supposing the vines young hops, really like Kent – undulating beautiful country – at 4 ¾ from top of hill (A- had had a peep before) fine view of Angoulême – built on the on the slope and ridge, and to the end of the ridge of the amphitheatric line of hill – apparently [9] churches – 1 pointed-topped, tall, small square tower of cathedral far above all the rest – at 4 50 stone bridge over pretty winding wooded river Touvre and good hamlet of Pont-Touvre – ascent Angoulême very imposingly situated and fine looking town from the top of the ascent out of Pont-Touvre – yellow rye, ripest I have seen – (much fine looking the other way – to one coming from Bordeaux) –

SH:7/ML/E/21/0132

[?] began to be common here – hay very sweet and green and well got – at 5 good faubourg de l’Houmeau – at 5 5 turn left to wind up into la ville – very picturesque old walls and castle – pass tomb (right) under weeping willows – then gateway, but still steepish ascent into the town, and alight at La table Royale or Hotel Perigord (at the top of the hill and town) at 5 12 – had passed thro’ narrow ill paved steep streets to the very porte cochère of the hotel - upstairs for a few minutes – good, large, double bedded room – seems a good house – off at 5 20 with garçon to shew us the way to the cathedral – when in sight of it (on the boulevard) gave him ./75 and sent him back – turned towards the prefecture – colonnade on the top of wall something like Grays’ at Cliff hill – but divided into 3 by a wire trellis – arch in the middle left open the rest filled up with roses and creepers leaving the white columns bare – very pretty – It struck me as a good hint for Cliff hill, but A- did not think so – very fine view – but no river seen from this side – here too workmen – making new road down from the boulevard to the faubourg below – and in another place nearer the cathedral repairing the old walls and pushing out a little to get a little square bit of room at the top – workmen everywhere – Louis Philippe (like Napoleon) keeps the people employed – Cathedral very interesting – west front in the style of Civray and Ruffec but larger than the former – very handsome and interesting and Roman like – A- stood sketching the (old west front) exterior while I examined the interior – the most interesting I have ever seen? one nave – no aisles – short transepts, and not much nave (perhaps ¼ of the whole) beyond them, finished in an apse – nave roofed in domes, one over each large arcade – beautiful lantern (domed) tower – the great high, tall, small old square a clocher quite apart from the nave – evidently an old Roman façade, and I should say in great part an old Roman interior – went into booksellers’ shop near – the woman said the cathedral was built by the English – no views of the cathedral published yet – but her son would have some published in a week or 10 days –bought 2 plans = 1/50 of a ville as it was 40 years ago – the woman said she herself could well remember it 40 years ago – (she did not look 60) and a little Angoulême guide 1/60 – back at the Inn thro’ better streets and grand Place, and past new handsome Palace de Justice (in the place) at 6 40 – the postilion would not take 1 3/4p. = 14/. that I had left with George – merely shewed the man the regulation in the livre de poste – he apologized – took the money said he was ancièn postilion et qu’il s’était trompé – did not wait a moment – the maitress d’hotel asked 1/. for our 3 or 4 minutes use of her room and I paid with a [complaint] on her house – Off from Angoulême at 6 ¾ - passed all road by the cathedral (where we had walked) and wound down the hill – beautiful descent leaving the beautiful shaded terrace walk round the town on our right, and got down into the faubourg (very fine look back upon A- much finer this way than the other) and by a fine excellent road to le Roullet at 7 40 – old ill (rough) paved little town, but picturesquely situated with façade of church as if it has been originally a little in the style of Angoulême but very plain, merely affecting the form – fine country – culture as before and well wooded and nice undulating road to Pétignac single house – red sandy thin soil – on reaching Barbezieux too dark to see to read my card of the hotel – uncertain if hotel de France (yes!) or boule d’or – alighted and went into the kitchen of the 1st house and read the card – the house was an Inn – the woman wanted me to look at her rooms, but I thanked her and drove off to the hotel de France – Auberge-like but the Inn recommended at Ruffec and printed on my carte routière de Meurice – arrived at 10 5 – and sat down to write at 10 20 and till dinner at 11 5 (A- tired and sick of waiting so long) wrote out nearly 1/3 of today – to amuse began at supper about Orleans cathedral and she got into [ape]! and went to bed what a temper but really I don’t mind it so much as I did at first – sat at dinner (rather supper) 20 minutes after A- left me and came upstairs at 11 40 – very fine day – F69 ½° now at 12 10 tonight and at 12 ½ heavy rain and thunder and lightning –

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kaizenryu · 3 years

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The Last Lesson by Alphonse Daudet

"See how it is everyday

we said 'I've got time'

And now see where we've come out."

The morning that he said that

was warm and pleasurable

with birds on every branch chirping

and soldiers drilling memorable.

The townhall; the landmark of bad news

battles, drafts and orders; all unasked misery

calling out to me he said I'd reach there pretty soon

'He's making fun of me' I thought, while paying him no heed.

At school was the whole world quite

the great bustle was misplaces, and so were the lessons and desks

The window told me then

'Almost a Sunday morning, with a rod in his hand, I feared that I'd be next'

He was silent and patient, unlike his past self

dressed in embroidered green, he gave us a solemn stare.

The backs were now filled with the students who were never taught

'It's the Last Lesson I shall give', said he on his chair.

Only then it dawned onto me, a dawn I never wanted

I'd never learn anymore, My books were a nuisance sorted

The grammar and past of saints, were bothering me no longer

And M. Hamel too, made me forget about his ruler.

Only in honor of the lesson, Sunday clothes were justified

Because they were sorry they never learnt, they filled up the backside wide.

Alsace's trouble: She puts off learning to tomorrow.

The Germans would mock her by saying, 'What man calls himself French, when not a single word he knows.'

French language was the most beautiful,

It was the clearest, most logical, and the escape to the prison unmerciful.

How far could they steal the identity of a man,

'Would the pigeons be forced to sing in German?'

Hauser cried, of all his 40 years Hamel first time looked pale,

His devotion was the singular solution to all Alsace's pains.

Without turning back to face me, one last time he wrote,

'Vive La France!', never to see us again, he motioned us to go.

On the way back home,

The chirping birds weren't liberating.

Neither were the drilling soldiers,

enough to erase the words of his reverberating.

"See how it is everyday

we said 'I've got time'

And now see where we've come out."

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scottiestakeparis · 5 years

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Post 1- Marie Antoinette and Versailles

I’d like to preface this by saying that our day at Versailles was genuinely the best day of my life. Every part of it filled my little history major heart with glee. But more than that, Versailles was fascinating because of the way it showed the indelible link between French art and fashion and the identity of the country itself, particularly at the crossroads of French history before, during, and after the revolution.

The palace itself was the very picture of opulence. Every room seemed grander than the last. The walls were gilded, the ceilings covered from corner to corner with intricate murals, and every piece of furniture was almost ridiculously ornate. It was beautiful. But it also represented an important part of the foundation of French society at that time: a deeply ingrained class divide. While the monarchy became richer, the poor became poorer, and it was strange knowing that the art we so enjoyed came at the expense of the working class and their lowering quality of life. The Hall of Mirrors, for example, was made solely because mirrors were so expensive and hard to come by. It was a symbol of wealth, a symbol of status, and a symbol of the power the monarchy had. In that time in the 18th century, France’s sense of national identity hinged on the existence of the monarchy. The crown was considered the divine right of kings, ordained by God himself. France was a Catholic country, and the king was seen to be chosen by a Catholic god. The two were fundamentally intertwined, which is why the monarchy fell, France was in many ways sent scrambling for a new symbol of identity.

Marie Antoinette, who we discussed in class, was (and is) herself very much the symbol of the French monarchy at Versailles. The last queen of France, we tend to think of her fashion when we think of her, but even her fashion meant so much more in the broader context. It was a symbol of the monarchy’s excess, politically charged in its seeming disregard for the plight of the common man. Looking back, it’s hard not to pity her in a way; her eccentricities were a product of the context in which she was raised. I made the trek to the Petit Trianon, the mock village in which the queen would play at being a farm girl, and it was a charming area, though one born of an ignorance about how the common people really lived.

Ultimately, Versailles was a symbol of the monarchy, and the monarchy was for centuries a symbol of France. It’s identity, for better or for worse, is contained in the art it created, which is why it was such a treat to visit. Vive la révolution.

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teaandgames · 7 years

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Revisited - Punch-Out!! (2009)

Punch-Out!! has a steep learning curve. It’s not as bad as the original games, which hailed from an era where a screw-up cost you respect and money, but the challenge is still there. This is best personified by the final character: Mr. Sandman. He puts you to sleep, though instead of a lullaby it’s a solid jab to the face that severs your brain stem. He’s a man mountain; towering so far over Little Mac that his standard punch just goes straight down, colliding with the top of Mac’s head. That’s pretty horrifying.

But that’s the beauty of it. Very few fights, bar a few in the minor circuit, are won without a few blows to the face. You need to get through the initial shock of each fighter. Some have special moves, like Piston Hondo’s rush that is terrifying the first time he unleashes it, and some are just awkward (looking at you Aran Ryan) but if you can persevere, and keep your reactions up to speed, you can get into the boxing zone. It’s a good zone to be in and Punch-Out!! offers a lot to keep you interested. Its charm, easy to learn controls and replayability cement it as one of the best titles on the Wii.

For one thing, it’s just the right kind of silly. “Eh? Eh? Vive la France!" intones Glass Joe, standing back and saluting to the crowd. His repeated, and thoroughly undeserved, hubris comes to a close with a single gut punch that sends him straight to the mat. Now that we’re not working with sprite animation, and trying to juggle personality and cartridge space at the same time, the characters have a chance to come into their own. There’s thirteen main characters in all and they each manage to stand out, both in fighting style and genuine personality. And by that, I mean they royally take the piss out of every country. Hey, Canada? Here’s a guy that cuts down trees, drinks maple syrup by the jug-full and fights bears. That’s you. All of you.

Is it done maliciously? Well, like the original it’s so silly that I’d lean towards no. It’s not reinforcing the stereotypes, it’s playing them for comic effect. No one’s going to come out thinking that all Spanish people are bullfighters (with toupees) or that Irish people are all a bunch of cheaters. Okay that last one seems a touch more malicious but bear with it. I’d adore it if there were an English stereotype in there. Preferably non-cockney, with top hat, monocle and a ridiculous accent. But these stereotypes make the characters a lot more memorable, even if I can’t understand a blind word they’re saying. It does rather date the game, though. Some stereotypes (like that Irish one) feel kind of outdated these days. Von Kaiser, the German, especially feels a little overdone.

Along with taking the stereotypes, they’ve also taken a good chunk of the gameplay from the original Punch-Out!!. Your standard punching is the same. You can hook ‘em and you can jab ‘em, meaning you can still give ‘em the ‘old one-two’. Along with that comes your star punches, which work a little differently from the NES title. Rather than using one star at a time, and stockpiling them, the more stars you have means a stronger special punch. I prefer this system as it’s more a reward of skill. If you’re rattled, you might stick to using one star but if you’re in that Punch-Out!! Zone you can go for the big money. Successfully landing your first three star punch makes you feel Godlike, not least because there’s a good chance it’ll send your opponent to the mat.

You’ll have a lot of opportunity to use them too as Punch-Out!! Serves up quite a lot. There are three initial circuits, the first two with four fighters and the last with five, but after you beat Mr. Sandman and gain the title, they all come back to challenge you for it. And they’re twice as hard. I got knocked out by Glass Joe, simply because he was wearing a helmet and had learned to feint. Talk about being put in your place. After that there are a number of challenges to complete and another mode where you fight until you’ve lost three times. Donkey Kong appears in this mode and never fails to kick my arse.

This is combined with the sheer amount of ways to fight in Punch-Out!!. As I said in my review of the original, Punch-Out!! rewards risky gameplay. If you play it safe, you can still win and there are usually obvious star opportunities but if you push the boat out you can find new ways to win. Nearly everyone has a one-hit knockdown, or an instant knock-out, for you to find and they’re hidden everywhere. Aran Ryan’s knockout comes when he’s about to hit the mat, for example. There are surprises everywhere and it encourages you to break that guard and sink some unexpected punches. As such, I’m still finding fights just as fresh as before.

That could be because even if you have people’s attack patterns memorised, you can’t let up. That’s why I’m always going to enjoy Punch-Out!!, I think. It’s a test of raw skill. Kind of like real boxing, if one opponent was lying on a sofa eating Jaffa cakes. Admittedly, the return does diminish after the first time you beat an opponent but the challenges, Title defence and the Champion mode (one hit and you get knocked down) make for a surprisingly long playtime. Especially if you’re like me and want to knock everyone out in under an hour. Screw you Bald Bull, I’m going to make you pay for that knockdown. I’ll eat you like a cream covered scone at afternoon tea! Damn. Now I’m doing it.

Pros -Simple, clean gameplay -The fighters all ooze personality, through dialogue and brief cutscenes -Rewards risk very well -A lot to do which means a decent playtime Cons -Some of the stereotypes do date the game somewhat Punch-Out!! Developer: Next Level Games Publisher: Nintendo Release Date: May 2009 Play it on: Wii

#punch-out!!#Wii #Little Mac #Gaming #Boxing #Video Games #Nintendo #New Punch-out!!#punch out #revisited #retro #NES

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latristereina · 7 years

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get to know me meme: favorite partnerships/relationships in history 3/? (1), (2)

John II of Aragon and Navarre & Juana Enríquez

Juan was the second son of Ferdinand I of Aragon and his wife Eleanor of Alburquerque, and hence grandson of John I of Castile, and great-grandson of Henry II, the first Trastámara king on the Castilian throne.

He is usually seen as a man who wanted to rule, having unsatisfied desire to wield power, insensitive to almost all the emotions, breaker of any pledge, if only it turned out to be obstacle on the way to achieve his goals. This made him known as Juan Sin Fe (John The Faithless), nickname he got from his ancient foes and recent adversaries. In reality, under this coarse mask, there is a different man. We don’t deny Juan was devious, which he showed many times, when it comes to both politics and diplomacy; but this trait was a fruit of the circumstances of his time, it was the only possibility to find one’s way through the national and international passions. We could find examples of such policy in Italy, France, England and Castile, as well, where the immoral pirouette was a way to float through the uneasy waters of those hazardous times. If Juan of Aragon had given up on the opportunities that were offered to him by this system of action, in which participated such men as Louis XI of France, Charles the Bold, Galeazzo Sforza, Ferrante I of Naples, Alfonso Carrillo, etc, he would have had the same small role on the political stage, as tenderhearted and sentimental Henry IV of Castile. There are other personal traits of Juan II that have not been taken into consideration until now. In the first place; his true religiousness, confirmed by thousand details throughout his active existence; religiousness that was compatible with immense sexual appetite. Then, there was a sense of honour of the royal word, that he broke only once, during the tragic event of December 2nd 1460, when he had his son, prince of Viana, arrested at Lérida. Our assertion is proved by his maintenance of the consistent policy throughout ten years of the Catalan civil war, and his attitude towards Louis XI, during the persistent struggle for Rosellón. In the third place, his personal value, close to heroism, during the culminating moments of the drama in his life, although never impulsive, nor ready to sacrifice it in the sterile outbreak of pure virility. These characteristics can make him likeable and explain the true devotion of his close friends and supporters. But, at the same time, other aspects of his nature did not let him be truly popular and did not allow him to overcome the difficult circumstances of his life and rule, with smile on his face. We refer to the usual coldness of his temperament, restrained in eating, meticulous when it comes to clothing, cautious during the discourse, calculating in action, tough in political struggle, unchangeable in his decisions. The documents prove his passion for hunting and games, when this cerebral and reserved spirit tried to relieve his tensions. Juan of Aragon never gave himself entirely, neither to his second wife, nor to his son Fernando. Only on a few occasions we can see the exclamation of humanity in his letters; but in general, he appears to be distant, unavailable to the popular masses.

Juana was the daughter of Fadrique Enríquez, the admiral of Castile, and she was most likely born in 1425. She descended from the same branch of the bastards, sired by Alfonso XI of Castile, although she belonged to the new branch, created by don Fadrique Alfonso, master of Santiago and twin brother of Henry II of Castile. Fadrique Alfonso fathered only bastard children, which explains the vitality of the two admirals of Castile; don Alfonso and don Fadrique, grandfather and father of doña Juana. The interests of this family were not less powerful than these of the cadet branch of the Trastámaras, represented by the infantes of Aragon (Juan II of Aragon and his brothers). The Enríquez also wanted to mean something in Castile. Hence their marriages. The first admiral of Castile married Juana de Mendoza, ferocious and rich woman from the notable Mendoza clan. The second, don Fadrique, count of Melgar, Rueda, lord of Medina de Rioseco and Mansilla, wedded doña Marina Fernández de Córdoba y Ayala de Toledo. Don Diego, his father-in-law, was blacksmith of Castile and had occupied important posts at the court of Henry III; his mother-in-law, doña Inés, had vast possessions in the region of Toledo, where her family (the Ayalas) exercised power alongside the Silvas.

The marriage of Juana and Juan of Aragon and Navarre was a political union, derived from the necessity to deepen the bond between the adversaries of powerful don Álvaro de Luna (who in fact ruled in Castile), who had come back in John II of Castile’s good graces. Having arranged the marriage and having obtained the consent of Alfonso V of Aragon (Juan’s older brother whom he would eventually succeed), the future spouses were betrothed – they took each other’s hands – at Torrelobatón, on September 1st 1444, in the presence of the kings of Castile and the prince of Asturias, future Henry IV.

The bridegroom was 46; the bride 19 years old. The difference of age indicated the political nature of the union. The wedding did not take place until 1447. There were two reasons behind this delay: the dispensation was required, becasue Juana and Juan were distant cousins, and then the disaster of the Battle of Olmedo (1445), which forced Juan and don Fadrique to run off to Navarre. The bride, who was already known as queen consort of Navarre, found herself under the custody of John II of Castile, who had taken over Medina de Rioseco. She recovered her liberty on May 1st 1446, thanks to the intercession of future Henry IV, but on condition that the wedding would not be celebrated without the consent of John II of Castile.

The fire in the village of Atienza, whch was supposed to be a part of Juana’s dowry, caused another delay of the plans of her father. Finally, Juan of Aragon obtained the permission and the young Castilian woman could receive the engagement ring from the hands of her mature, Aragonese suitor, on July 13th 1447, at Calatayud. Since then don Juan felt passionate affection for his second wife. According to her contemporaries, she was a beautiful, dauntless and intelligent woman. „Enchanter”, according to her adversary, Peter of Portugal, although in the pejorative sense of this word: not a charming but deceitful woman. It was enough to win the love of her husband, who also showed her paternal affection, given she could be his daughter. Don Juan always called her ‘my little girl’.

Juana aroused fervor and hatred. Her contemporaries called her either 'the satanic female’ or 'the royal lioness’. It seems she was intelligent, energetic, astute, brave, obstinate, decisive and ambitious. According to her biographer, Nuria Coll:

’Such commended diplomat and warrior would not obtain any resonant triumph in those fields; she was impulsive, attacked openly; was intelligent in her disputes with the Parliament, but never brilliant; obstinate, tough and brave, when being brave meant to face dangers, despite fearing them, and even failing in the process.’

These vigorous outlines bring closer a woman, who by her Castillian factions and the love for her son, could even lead her husband to make a terrible political mistake. Impulsive, wild, sentimental and vain – very feminine.

“Historia crítica de la vida y reinado de Fernando II de Aragón”, Jaime Vicens Vives

Fernando [Ferdinand II of Aragon] had grown up close to this strong, indeed headstrong mother, whom her much older husband—in 1452 she was twenty-eight, he was fifty-four—loved and indulged. She brought up her son to succeed to Aragón’s crown, beginning by putting off his baptism for nearly a year, until Juan was regent in Aragón and it could be held in the cathedral in Zaragoza. There, with royal magnificence, the child was named for his paternal grandfather, Fernando de Antequera, a king of Aragón who was as well the foremost Castilian hero of the wars against the Moors in recent memory.

„Isabel the Queen”, Peggy K. Liss

Throughout her marriage to Juan, Juana was one of his closest advisers and most valuable allies, traveling with him throughout Navarre and the Aragonese realms. Juan relied on her intelligence and discretion; her prodigious familial, financial and political connections in Castile; and her tenacious and formidable negotiating skills. Juana was nothing if not intrepid and, no newcomer to politics, she shrugged off personal attacks after the death of Carlos, Juan’s son with Blanca, and succeeded him as lieutenant-general. She took full advantage of the office of queen-lieutenant that was in no way diminished by Maria’s resignation. Like Maria, Juana maintained an extensive court with a separate chancery and treasurer. Amid widespread civil unrest, she suppressed opposition, negotiated treaties, presided over parliamentary assemblies and took the side of the peasants. Unlike the six Aragonese queen-lieutenants who preceded her, Juana is noted for her active military involvement; notably, the early campaigns of the ten-year civil war (1462—72).

“Queenship in Medieval Europe”, Theresa Earenfight

#perioddramaedit #historyedit #get to know me meme #juana enríquez #john ii of aragon #juan ii de aragón #merlin

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