the girl who saw the universe

Masterlist just a girl from the netherlands with a big imagination, in love with old music likes being creatieve i don't care if people are different be you're self, a fangirl of queen and doctor who somethimes sherlock, lord of the rings and the hobbit

[anne-white-star]

Masterlist

Info before hand :

Please ignore any spelling mistakes in these reader inserts i have dyslexia and im trying my best to Wright it as corect as posseble also English is not my first language, please do not repost these storys anywere els. But rebloging is completly fine

i hope you all enjoy reading these have fun😊

Storys that involve my oc

Storys that involve my oc (But it isnt always doctor who)

Cinderella monogatari Anne (oc) x Alex

Cinderella monogatari Anne (oc) x Alex 2

Cinderella monogatari Anne (oc) and zaral confrontation

Cinderella monogatari Anne (oc) x Alex 3

Cinderella monogatari Anne (oc) x Alex and Charles 4

Third doctor x reader and name inserts

Third doctor x Anne white star (oc)

A birthday present for Anne

Meeting the romanovs: third doctor x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Third doctor x reader

A Cold and a missing girl (short)

Kidnapped

Nightmare (short)

Music (short)

Cloak (short)

an evening in the moonlight (short)

A walk in the woods (short)

Third doctor x depressed!reader

Third doctor x anxious!reader (short)

Pregnant (short)

Third doctor x princess!reader

Third doctor x sad!reader (short)

Scared of losing you (short)

Third doctor x autistic!reader (short)

Third doctor/Jon pertwee (+au's) lemons/sexual content

Third doctor x reader (lemon) 18+ (short)

Third doctor x reader (lemon) (shower scene spearhead from space) (short) 18

Au Cheetah!third doctor x reader 18+

Fancy shirt Third doctor x reader 18+

Modern au Teacher! jon pertwee x student! reader 18+

Vampire pertwee x reader

Link

An oktober to remember

Vampire!pertwee x reader the masquerade ball

Vampire pertwee x reader my love

Jon pertwee x reader

Link

Au (Young) prince jon pertwee x reader

Period and pancakes jon pertwee x reader (short)

Young Jon pertwee x waitress!reader

A little nap jon pertwee x reader (short)

Jon pertwee x blind!reader

Young!Jon pertwee x comatose!reader

Jon pertwee x reader after the war

Exchange student modern au jon pertwee x reader: Studying abroad

Caption/name insert

Link

Link

Third doctor/jon pertwee imagines (short storys)

Doing jon pertwee his hair while on doctor who

Giving the doctor CPR

The doctor picking you up from school

Giving the doctor a neck mesage

The Band queen x reader

Band queen x reader : a misunderstanding

Band queen x autistic/anxious!reader : no worries

Band queen x ghost!reader : a night at the opera

Band queen x reader depressed!reader: Don't do it

Band queen x princess!reader : her highness

Band queen x reader : the little things

Band queen x blind!reader : just as good as the rest

Band queen x reader : stay with us

Roger Taylor x reader

Roger Taylor x reader : switching

Roger Taylor x reader : i missed you

Brian may x reader

Brian may x reader : planets and constellations

Brian may x reader : finding real love

Brian may x reader : happy anniversary

John deacon x reader

John deacon x reader : i love you no matter what (short)

John deacon x reader : Having a little bit of fun(short)

Freddie Mercury x reader

Platonic!Freddie Mercury x reader : it means so mutch

Platonic!Freddie Mercury x reader : shopping(short)

Brian may x reader x roger taylor

Brian may x reader x roger taylor : holiday disaster

Platonic! Older Brian may x reader x platonic! older roger taylor x bohrhap cast : slow down

some of these are short Enjoy😊🌹💖

[alive2mila6]

It's been a long time since I posted something

SO BAM TAKE DND PORTHAMIS

Reference for the clothes, this beautiful man: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DY5fqDQMaxN/?igsh=ZXU5cTFsNWJtMTR0

[borgialucrezia]

"On the field, I saw a man, young like we were. He carried his brother in a sack over his shoulder. He told me he had promised their mother to take him home. Would you do that for me? I would, but you? I do not know."

[ma-demoiselle-moon]

Instagram @moghtaderleila

[ma-demoiselle-moon]

MonChevy ♥

IG dtmta.h

[mycovenmagazine]

The Monsieur and the Chevalier

[airplaner]

'the silliest woman who ever lived'

[mcfassyz]

MonChevy | Versailles S2

I will always love you.

[mtkay13]

Since it's pride month (and that june 6 is bottom day jkjkjkjk) i'm posting some of my more softcore pinup stuff (typically anatomy/pose studies) before i finally start posting all the really nasty stuff on ao3 LOL also i fucking love body hair augh

[mtkay13]

A little comic out inspired by Philippe's adoration for his first daughter, Marie-Louise. Of course, it's very silly, but unfortunately rooted in a lot of very complicated things linked to the implication of having a girl back then. I guess I wanted to show some excitment at the idea of having a girl, even if it's for silly reasons, because of how many gender reveal disappointments and disaster videos we see online these days...

A bit more below, ainsi que la version française !

Henriette explicitly didn't want a girl, and she was said to have deplored that Marie-Louise wasn't a boy to the point of not even wanting to see her. In a letter sent to his aunt, Philippe says that he didn't think it was necessary to send a man to deliver the news, since it's "only" a girl, though he finds her really adorable.

As it stood, Henriette could only really secure her position as the duchess of Orleans if she had a boy, as it was her primary "duty". Like many others in her time, she grew up in fear and insecurity; she'd been rejected by the king as a child, and she now had to assert her position in court, as well as her "relevancy". The news of her baby being a girl was simply a source of deep worry and stress, considering that her bad constitution made pregnancies particularly taxing.

Speaking of which, it's often said that Monsieur deliberately made her pregnant over and over out of spite, to keep her out of parties and compromise her health further; it's a bit of a skewed interpretation of the events, naturally. Sure, Monsieur has been odious to her--they both have, as they simply made the worst come out of each other; a shame, given how well they used to get along. Once again, looking not only at the facts but also at the political reality of the times: Henriette was pregnant about once a year; a similar rhythm as Liselotte, the main difference is that it happened nine times for Henriette, and only three for Liselotte. Why that difference? Well, we can't read their minds retrospectively, but once fact is observable: they didn't have a boy yet, and it mattered to Henriette at least as much as it did to Philippe.

I guess I wanted to elaborate on that a little as, while I'm sure most people around here know, I don't want for Henriette to simply seem so dismissive of Marie-Louise out of pure misogyny; it's a lot of sad, complicated factors.

FR:

[mtkay13]

I wanted to draw Philippe in his INCREDIBLE Royal Carrousel fit because it's so goddamn fab and perfect 🤌🤌🤌 and I added Marie-Louise because I CAN

And a high definition picture of the OG engraving below that I took from the version of the Carrousel I bought 2 weeks ago 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[mtkay13]

A true story that I never tire to read, by Liselotte, who reports that Philippe sometimes needed her to decypher what he wrote. Here is the exact quote from one of Liselotte's letters:

His writing was so terrible that he often brought for me to read the letters that he himself wrote, and he'd say, laughing: "You are, Madame, used to my writing; take a look at this, I don't know what I wrote. We often laughed about this.

And we can confirm that it's terrible, indeed, with the examples below the cut:

(FR en dessous)

A few stunning examples from Elisabetta Lurgo's work on his letters)

FR:

Et la citation de Liselotte sur laquelle est basée la BD:

Il écrivait si mal qu'il m'apportait souvent, pour les lires, les lettres qu'il avait faites, et il disait en riant: Vous êtes, Madame, accoutumée à mon écriture; lisez-moi un peu cela, je ne sais ce que j'ai écrit. Nous en avons souvent ri de bon coeur.

Je ne m'en lasse jamais 😭😭😭

[bladeofaramis]

Asked for something to draw and was told "d'Artagnan coming in from the rain"

[backtothefanfiction]

Loving you is torture… but I’d do it all over again | Aramis x Reader

Summary: you knew it was a bad idea, but you fell in love with him anyway. problem is he’s in love with the queen.

Warnings: angst. like really hard excruciating angst. unrequited love.

Word Count: 1kish (wrote in app)

A/N: I’m hormonal and desperate for angst. I’ve had some angst prompts saved in my Pinterest for a while and when I read two of them just now, I knew I needed to write them right now. all props to whoever came up with these line originally, I hope I’ve only added to them.

You can’t remember the first time your heart ached when you looked at him, it just happened one day. Back then the ache was different. It was more like a flutter… Much easier to bear. This pain now, sitting back, observing him as he looked at her. Looked at her in a way he’d never looked at you. It felt like death.

What was worse, was it wasn’t the first time you’d seen this scene either. The pained look in his eyes he tried to hide behind a fond smile as he looked across the room at the fair and beautiful queen. She was the Queen, you knew you could never compete with her, no matter how many evenings you spent with him in the glow of candle light as he whispered sweet nothings into your ears.

It didn’t matter that he went home with you at the end of the night. That he shared your bed not hers, because that kind of decision wasn’t even a choice. It was the obvious alternative, but you both tried to ignore that fact. He’d drop everything and go to her if he could. Often has under the guise of work. But he always came back, because he knew he couldn’t stay with her.

And you thought that would be enough. To know you got him in the end. That he always came back to you. But how you wished it was only you.

It was late when he finally got back. You sat at the table, a single candle lit to stave off the dark.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” he said lightly, taking off his leathers and hanging them on the back of the wooden chair at the kitchen table.

When he stepped forward and really looked at your face in the dim light he froze. The flickering flame of the candle illuminated the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“How long?” he said.

“How long what?” your voice croaked from misuse.

“How long have you been crying?”

You licked your lips. They tasted like salt. You breathed deeply and tried your hardest to not start crying again.

“Since I got back this afternoon,” you finally confessed.

You didn’t have to say why for him to know. It was the unspoken giant in the room. Silently acknowledged, yet still ignored... Most days.

“All I want is for you to look at me they way you look at her… just once,” you whispered pitifully.

“I do look at you-“

“No you don’t.” You cut him off, the words honest but hollow.

His gaze fell from you to the table where his fingers picked at the textures of the wood.

“Have you ever loved me?” your broken voice asked, but shame quickly made you back track. “Actually no don’t answer that. I don’t think I could bare actually hearing you answer that,” you said, rushing to stand and turn your back to him.

You closed your eyes and counted your breathes along with his steps as he made his way across the room, his hand moving to slide gently down the side of your arm in an attempt to comfort you.

“You know I do,” he said, encouraging you to lean back into him and because it’s him, you do.

“Just not the way you love her,” you said, turning in his arms to look at him.

Your hands move up to smooth his unruly hair back and away from his face as you search his expression for the answers to his pain. Because it was true. He did love you. But it was a steady love. A reliable love. The love you share with family. But the love he felt for Anne was different. It was the kind of love that made his heart race. That made him feel truly alive. The kind of love that made him want to be reckless. It was the kind of love he knew you felt for him. Which is why he always stayed, but you both knew his sacrifice wasn’t enough.

“I think it’s time,” you said to him as your eyes continued to roam his face, attempting to commit every mark and feature to memory one last time.

“It doesn’t have to be-“ he tried to reason, but you cut off his words with a shake of your head, tears welling up in your eyes and tracing down your cheeks through the same channels they had before.

You liked your lips again, the taste of the salty tears comforting now. “No,” you said softly. “No. I can’t do this anymore.”

Aramis knew you meant it this time from your tone. Gone was the theatrics, the desperation to hold on. You were calm and detached. You’d already let go. Your tears weren’t from a place of anger or resentment, they were the tears of peace. Of coming to terms with grief. Of acceptance.

“Loving you was a torture. One I fear I enjoyed all too much,” you said to him with a bittersweet smile, your tender fingers still brushing at his face.

Unable to find words, he pulled your face into his. His lips collided with yours softly, kissing you so tenderly he hoped it spoke a thousand words. A kiss that would stay with you for a lifetime. A kiss that apologised. A kiss that wished he could do or be more.

Although your lips parted, your bodies didn’t. He continued to hold you close, his forehead pressed gently against your own. It was a moment that felt like sand between your fingers, gentle, yet heavy and oh so slowly slipping between your fingers.

“Thank you,” you finally said to him, your fingers brushing downing his chest and open shirt. “For letting me in. For letting me love you. Even if you could never love me back in the same way.”

You parted your head from his so you could hold onto the look of his deep brown eyes better. To feel his soft gaze on you one last time. To pretend his loving gaze had the same meaning as yours one last time. But it had already faded. All that was left in his eyes was sorrow.

“You know I’ll always be here if you need me,” he said, brushing his hand down your face one last time and cupping your chin between his fingers, forcing you to hold his gaze.

“Goodbye Aramis,” was all you said.

Then he was gone.

[royalty-nobility]

Anne of Austria, Regent of France, in White Mourning, and her Son Louis XIV, in a Red Dress

Artist: Charles Beaubrun (French, 1604-1692)

Date: 17th century

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Palace of Versailles and Trianon, Paris, France

Depicted People:

Anne of Austria (1601-1666)

Louis XIV (1638-1715)

[eliasmustdieart]

[paintandroses]

Behold, our glorious Sun King! George Blagden as Louis, in that golden costume which proved just too spectacular to resist drawing.