circa regna tonat

bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end. also found here.

[vaintravails]

official-ish holiday hiatus ! it's december which means I'm depressed and also going home...and I also have 2 essays and a research proposal for my thesis to complete. my activity will probably fluctuate a little more than usual until about mid-jan when my deadlines should be out of the way. I'll still be posting replies, just sporadically ! happy holidays everyone <333 [ bc this is replacing my pinned for a bit: rules / muses / other blogs

[vaintravails]

miss you guys btw hi

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  some  wintery  sentence  starters  to  help  you  stay  warm  these  holidays!  )

❛ your lips look cold, want me to warm them up for you? ❜

❛ check it out, i’m a dragon! ❜

❛ you have snowflakes in your hair. ❜

❛ i know it’s winter, but you don’t have to act so cold! ❜

❛ want to go for a walk and check out all the lights? ❜

❛ how are you wearing shorts in this weather?! ❜

❛ it’s so cold, but you’re so warm. ❜

❛ i don’t need mistletoe to kiss you. ❜

❛ here, you can have my scarf. ❜

❛ want some hot chocolate? ❜

❛ you know, i’ve never seen snow before. ❜

❛ please open the door before i freeze to death. ❜

❛ but seriously, do you want to build a snowman? ❜

❛ there’s space for you by the fire, come sit. ❜

❛ wait, is that mistletoe? ❜

❛ winter is coming / winter is here. ❜

❛ a snowball fight? oh, it is so on! ❜

❛ looks like we’re snowed in for the night. ❜

❛ are you warm enough? ❜

❛ did you know that icicles make the perfect murder weapon? ❜

❛ i’m catching snowflakes with my tongue, what’s it look like i’m doing? ❜

❛ nightmare before christmas is a christmas movie. it’s literally in the title! ❜

❛ you look pretty covered in snow, guess that’s why they’re called snow angels. ❜

❛ you were outside for one minute, how can you be dying of hypothermia? ❜

❛ i think i burned my tongue on my hot chocolate. ❜

❛ i like it out here. it’s peaceful. ❜

❛ you’re like my own personal space heater. ❜

❛ if you don’t have gloves, you can just hold my hand. ❜

❛ if i slip on the ice, it’s totally your fault. ❜

❛ behold! the perfect snowball. ❜

❛ let’s just stay in and watch the snow. ❜

❛ i’m cold, can we cuddle? ❜

❛ i’ll be home for christmas, i promise. ❜

❛ holy shit, your hands are freezing! ❜

❛ there. now your snow angel has a friend. ❜

❛ what should we name our snowman? ❜

❛ i guess it’s just my overused hoodie and i against the world. ❜

❛ i’ll be your date for that christmas party if you don’t have one yet. ❜

❛ being stuck inside with you all day is my worst nightmare. ❜

❛ sorry! i didn’t mean to throw that snowball so hard. ❜

❛ i made a dick out of snow. it’s happy to see you. ❜

❛ there’s never a bad time for ice cream. ❜

❛ come here, let me warm you up. ❜

❛ you’ve never seen snow before? ❜

❛ the holidays aren’t so bad with you around. ❜

❛ either you cuddle me, or stop hogging all the blankets. ❜

❛ fine, i’ll be nice. but just until the holidays are over. ❜

❛ winter is for hibernating. i’m going back to sleep. ❜

[vaintravails]

semperidems​:

❛ You are a victim of the recent tragedies that have happened at court, Lady Rochford and neither the King nor I place any blame on you. ❜ She sets her hands on either side of the woman as a gesture to bid her rise for there is something agonizingly distressful at the sight her in such obeisance. Though Jane had been raised well at Wulf Hall, never had she been prepared to fill the station of Queen and so she still found the sight of obligatory submission from the ladies that she had once been on equal footing with to be rather unnerving. Nonetheless, she has no choice but to play the part of Queen.  

❛ If you truly wish to leave court, I will not bid you stay for it would distress me greatly to see you in such discomfort but if you wish to stay, I will gladly accept your company. You are far more seasoned in court than I could ever hope to be and I know that I could depend upon you to help me avoid offending the King’s majesty. ❜ She finds the task before her overwhelming but she will not complain for she knows that she is in a fortunate position. If she maintains her influence with Henry and retains a place in his heart, she may yet hope to curb his recent reforms and guide him back into a loving relationship with Mary, the unfortunate heir to Catherine of Aragon’s woes. 

❛ If you do leave, trust that you will always have a place here at court should you wish to return. ❜ Upon contemplation, she finds it reasonable that Lady Rochford would wish to retire from court for a time for surely she can hear the ghosts of her late husband and her sister-in-law. Jane herself can hear their laughter echo off the walls and hear their quiet whispers. Not even the block can banish the presence of the interminable Boleyns. 

The recent tragedies? The words felt like venom, piercing and cold, but Jane knew the Queen didn’t intend them that way; it was just the way the sounded, passive, as if it were a weather event, an earthquake with no one at fault but God. These recent tragedies; that was what people said when the fenlands flooded and a cottager was drowned with his family, not when her husband had been murdered. Jane’s mouth twisted a little, but she swallowed the venom down, accepted it into her bloodstream. She thought of her father, the rigorous training she had been put through since birth; perhaps this was the ultimate test of a courtier, pretending that your King was not a murderer, that you were not one also.

She accepted the Queen’s gesture and rose, grateful for it; her knees ached, she hadn’t been sleeping and knew that it showed on her face, dark circles under her eyes. With her hands clasped in front of her, she swayed a little on her heels, then regained her balance, blinked the spots away. It was easier, standing: she could almost convince herself that she was a girl again, and if she did not look down at the Queen’s burnished golden hair, instead saw faded auburn, she could imagine that this was Queen Catherine, and that she would be going to dance after dinner, flirt with George, pretend that she hated the thought that they were betrothed, laugh with Mary and Anne behind their hands, making fun of the new Seymour girl. But it was not to be: her gaze sharpened. “I think you are quite capable of pleasing the King, madam,” she said, and she meant it to be a harsh indictment, but instead it came out startlingly gentle. She hadn’t intended it that way, but somewhere within her she had found reassurance. “You are his choice. How could you offend him?”

The words tasted bitterly familiar; wasn’t Anne his choice, above all other women? She had certainly offended the King. But Jane Seymour didn’t have Anne’s sharp tongue, any more than she had her grace, her wit. There was little personality to her, at least to Jane’s eyes. Her hand went to her waist for a moment, touching the small plain cross that hung there instead of the rosary beads that had once been obligatory at Queen Catherine’s court, and found comfort in the solid cold of iron.

She glanced around the room; they were alone, of course, but in her mind Jane was taking stock of the Queen’s remaining ladies. Several had returned home to their husbands and fathers, summoned in the wake of the arrests, but there would still be familiar faces around the new Queen, Nan Gainsford as was, Lady Zouche as she was now, Madge, even Bess Holland. Surely it could not fall to her to mentor this woman; surely that was not her lot in life, to constantly prepare women for the slaughter. She swallowed hard against the rising nausea and shook her head. Her hood was too tight at her temples and she put a hand to the side of her head, felt the cold sweat. “You are generous, your Majesty” she said, “but -” and words failed her. She had lost them all; they had dried up, maybe Cromwell had stolen them from her, she could no longer feign politeness. For a brief moment her grief was scrawled on her face, she said, “oh, Jane, the truth is, I do not think I could stay here without George. To sleep in our bed -”

[katiemcgrath]

Period drama costumes + Medieval Crowns  To be a king and wear a crown is a thing more glorious to them that see it than it is pleasant to them that bear it.

[vaintravails]

in order to make life easier, I’ve made a little page with all my blogs linked! because I hate sideblogs but also hate disorganisation.

[onlyperioddramas]

VICTORIA s01e07 • ‘The Engine of Change’

[vaintravails]

because I don’t have enough muses, I’m going to probably be writing Eames of Inception fame (my beloved!) at @eamesfm if anyone wants to throw spy/crime people at me for general dreaming shenanigans!

[candyflossmemes]

spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle.

[bunny-rp-memes]

Is there a character you would like to see me write as? Suggest one to me!

[stupidinboxstuff]

Send Me A Symbol For An Established Relationship Between Our Muses

Send me “♡” for a romantic relationship

Send me “❀” for a platonic relationship

Send me “🔥” for an enemy relationship

Send me “🌟” for a family relationship

Send me “?” + a topic for a specified relationship 

[starsspin-a]

                              COURAGE, DEAR HEART

[reverie-quotes]

I was raised by a kind of love that was so inextricable from pain that I fear that once I air that love, it will oxidize to betrayal, as if I'm turning English against my family.

— Cathy Park Hong, Minor Feelings

[vaintravails]

semperidems​:

She says nothing for several moments as her gaze sweeps downwards to her own hands which she’s clasped in front of her. She should probably insist that he allow her or a servant to pour the wine for surely a King of England should not stoop to serving wine but she chooses to remain silent for her words are a weapon and she must choose when to wield them in the limited time that she has. Her blue eyes watch a waterfall of crimson liquid fall from the flagon into her cup in what is a useful diversion as she tries not to find herself too distracted by her close proximity. She’ll not allow herself to be taken in by a handsome face and a charming manner, even when this man is, or calls himself, the King of England. ❛ Perhaps but I fear I would not recall for I grew up surrounded by a small army of irritating snot-nosed little boys. ❜

She suspected, judging from his glance towards the door, that he was waiting for her father to stride through the door and shoo her away so that the men could talk their politics but what he didn’t know, and likely would never realize, was that it was Jacquetta Woodville who ran the household and dictated the parts that each Woodville played. It was her mother who had insisted that Elizabeth entertain the king and it would be her mother who shooed her husband back into the room though Elizabeth was grateful for the time that she had alone with the king for it gave her a chance to put forward her own petition. As dear as her father was to her, she suspected that the inheritance of her sons was not foremost on his mind and so it was imperative that she speak up for them.

❛ Yes, I hardly remember it. I’ve spent most of my life away from court but my mother used to speak often of her time as a lady-in-waiting at court. She always speaks of her time at court with great fondness. ❜ What she couldn’t say was that her mother had often spoken of the former Queen of England with warmth and greatly enjoyed the friendship that she’d had with her mistress as her lady. ❛ But I truly have no cause for complaint. As enjoyable as I am sure life at court is, I enjoy being close to my family here at Grafton. ❜ Almost as much as she had enjoyed being mistress of her own small household but that point of grief was better left  aside. Instead, she had an opportunity now dangling right in front of her that she had to grasp before her father and his terrible timing interrupted them.

❛ Forgive me, Your Grace, but I fear I must speak now before my father returns. I had a petition of my own that I would ask of you, not for myself but for my two boys. When my late husband died, his inheritance was meant to go to our two sons but his family wrongfully took back what was rightfully theirs. I lost our estate but more importantly, my boys have lost their inheritance and will have little to their name if I cannot secure what is rightfully theirs for them. I know it may seem a…small matter to Your Grace but surely there must be some means by which you could help me. ❜ Up until only moments ago, she’s kept her gaze averted but now, her blue eyes peek out from beneath her long lashes in his direction in what she hopes is a portrait of humble supplication.

The Woodville family was large, it was true; he barked a laugh and shook his head into the wine glass; it was another similarity between them, constantly with younger siblings at their heels. Then again, Elizabeth must have left home a while ago; she had two sons, he recalled. She would understand then the odd double vision of a return home and a reunion, seeing your siblings twice over: the youngsters you had left and the adults you returned to. He was experiencing that with Meg at the moment, surprised every time he saw her that she was taller, had filled out, had the grace of womanhood with a remaining, startling childlike innocence.

Ned watched her from the window, half desiring her and half fascinated by her performance, as if he were at the front seat of a play; not fooled by the trickery but pleased with it nonetheless. Suspension of disbelief when faced with fiction always made it more enjoyable. He wondered what she was building up to; he could sense her gathering something around her - not courage, she clearly had plenty of that already, but something else, perhaps a rehearsed script, and he settled into his lean against the window-ledge, ready to hear it, an obedient audience member.

In listening to her he found that he lost all cynicism; if it was a performance, it was a sparkling one, clearly honest, with a touch of seduction; it made him want to laugh, but he didn’t want to offend her when she clearly had been longing to ask it of him since he first walked in the door. Ned almost laughed at himself. He had been a fool to think she was lusting over him, when in fact she was all along plotting her strategic advance. Well, it wasn’t the first time he had mistaken a petitioner for a potential lover, and it wouldn’t be the last. He wasn’t the type of man to sulk. “Please,” he said, straightening and raising his free hand, “it is no small matter and you do not need to dismiss it. I am sorry for your troubles, and I will of course do everything I can to help. The law courts have been mishandled for so long I fear people have forgotten what true King’s justice looks like, but I intend to remedy that now the fighting is over.” He hesitated delicately, wracking his brain for the name that escaped him for a moment, then alighting on it like a dancer falling into step; he had always had a good memory for names, and this one conjured up an instant association: St Albans. He had not been on the field, thank God. Even he drew the line at seducing the wife of a man he may have personally put to the sword. That he planned to seduce her, that final glance of hers had confirmed. He now had no choice in the matter. “I cannot imagine Sir John would have wanted his sons to struggle for their inheritance. I will put my friend Hastings in contact with you as soon as I can.”

It really was as easy as that. Will might roll his eyes, but he would do Ned’s bidding without question. He crossed the room in only a few strides, long legged, ducking his head a little at a low beam, until he was close enough that he could count her eyelashes, and raised his cup to her. “Drink with me?” The wine was a deep rich red and smelled pleasant enough, but truthfully he simply wanted to see how it would stain the centre of her lips. He smiled a little. “I ask for nothing in return but your good will.”

[vaintravails]

[ fever ]: having noticed the receiver beginning to spike a fever, sender presses a cool cloth to their forehead to try and bring it down. ( to mary tudor )

She came round quickly, with the experience of years in the public eye, but it was too late; someone had already led her into the dimness of the alcove and there was a cool cloth on her forehead, soothing her throbbing headache and the heat that was prickling at her wrists, her temple, her throat. With a stuttering breath not aided by the tightness of her gown, she sat upright too quickly, making spots dance in front of her eyes - then relaxed minutely when she realised the dancing was continuing beyond the figure in front of her, that they had not been much noticed. She had not been able to shake this damned illness, whatever it was, haunting her in short-lived spells, and she barely noticed her assistant as she attempted to calm herself, until she looked up and recognised his face. It was not, as she had expected, an old friend - perhaps Pennington or Brereton, but it was not. It was the King’s new Privy Counsellor. Wolsey’s man. She frowned a little.

“You have my thanks, sir,” she said, and her mouth felt dry; she closed her eyes against the flickering light of the candelabra and reached up to take the cloth from him, feeling surprisingly emotional at the moment of kindness he had shown her. Not many would have had the presence of mind to help in this way, rather than cause a scene. She squinted at him a little. “Master Cromwell, is it?” She had heard of his loyal defense of Wolsey from Charles; this had clearly raised him in Harry’s eyes, and it spoke to his character, but she was still uncertain.

[vaintravails]

semperidems​:

CONTINUED FROM HERE // @vaintravails​​

The chapel is meant to be a respite, an inner sanctum of refuge where one can lay their worries bare before the Almighty but while those around her may be at peace, Anne seethes. ❛ Wolsey knows not what he does. Does he think that I will allow myself to be triumphed over by such a man as him? ❜ It would cost Wolsey nothing to acquiesce and approve of a union between herself and Harry Percy but the old goat has chosen to slight her with the assumption that she is nothing more than a foolish girl who will fall to her knees in submission. 

❛ I swear this before you and God, Mary, I will not forgive Wolsey for this and one day, he will look back on what he has done to me and realize that it was the beginning of his undoing. ❜ As Countess of Northumberland, Wolsey might have had an ally in her but now he has an enemy staunch in her bitterness. One day, even if it requires her last breath, she will see the man brought down in disgrace. ❛ I will yet win the day. ❜ If she cannot have her chosen beau then she will look elsewhere and secure some greater prize for herself though such seeking will be with great grief for, whatever others may think, she loves Harry Percy. 

Mary can feel Anne’s temper like a live thing beside her, and for a second she is concerned that others will see it too, those less friendly to its cause; the Seymours, or worse, Mary Tudor; then, with a glance, she reminds herself who she is dealing with. Anne’s bitterness might be evident to those who know and love her, but on the outside her face is that of a courtier; perhaps a little troubled, perhaps a little bored by the interminable process of removing a hundred odd people from a chapel while respecting precedent and good order, but nothing more. Mary lets out a little breath of relief.

The priest performs the final blessings and under the cover of the sudden bustle of movement Mary is able to speak freely to her sister, though her eyes keep straying, magnetised, up to the King’s private box, where she knows he is working on his state papers. Anne’s loathed Wolsey might be up there this second, spreading poison about the Percy affair in Henry’s ear. She makes a gentling hum of agreement and censure mixed, taking Anne’s hand and tucking it firmly in the crook of her own to prevent her sister from gesturing too wildly in her hissed rant. “I know,” she says vaguely, patting it, thinking hard. Catherine makes a subtle gesture and the ladies organise themselves behind her in pairs like good little ducklings, and as they begin to process, Mary tilts her head towards her sister.

“Perhaps I could say something to the King - you know how I don’t like to do it, but if I could just mention how you feel for him and how this hurts you...” She hesitates. The Boleyns are playing their cards very carefully this summer. The Queen is ailing, and they may soon have everything to play for. But to make Anne happy, the risk may be worth it. “Let us just hope that it doesn’t get back to our uncle, for all our sake’s, before we have a chance to smooth things over.”

[onscreenkisses]

VICTORIA, 1x04 - “The Clockwork Prince”

requested by anon