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@queenviictoria
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Jenna Coleman in Emilia Wickstead for Great British Brands 2019
perhiistoria:
“YES.” HIS SMALL ANSWER IS CALM AND firm. And she might be correct in the assumption that it was a wrong choice. But one he must stick to with the advice of many he would deal with his guilt and worry later.
“I doubt they or the people will forgive me either. But at the time,” he sighed slowly, a pinch of his nose between index finger and thumb as the Prince struggled with his vexation. “It was the BEST choice that we could come to.” Albert’s tone had begun to rise, but after his pause of reflection it is back to normal the calm against Victoria’s storm.
❝ and you made it without me! ❞ how could he? how could he? hot tears of frustration gathered as she pulled at the fastenings, slightly beginning to loosen her bodice. she was the queen, not him, not her prime minister... and they simply stepped around her.
as if it would help her concentrate, Victoria’s eyes shot to the ceiling as she found herself stuck once more, bodice half over her shoulders. ❝ they are not yours, they are mine! mine to command, mine to... ❞ she broke with a sob, sinking in a pile of taffeta skirts, trapped. they had trapped her as surely as her bodice bound her arms. ❝ i trusted you... ❞
perhiistoria:
“MY APOLOGIES, YOUR MAJESTY.” HE JESTS, WITH a duck of his head while he stifled laughter. The movement doesn’t hide the broad grin that shaped his handsome features perfectly. “Please continue.” His hands folded in his lap and his gaze faced forward he must stay STILL, for the desire to touch her and hold quiet intimate moments is always a bright craving.
she too found it difficult to suppress her amusement, fingers flying over the keys even as her lips twitched. he remained impossible, her husband. and she adored him infinitely for it. ❝ you are the picture of a naughty schoolboy about to burst into mischief. ❞ gaze fastened on the keys, she smiled. ❝ how long will you be able to sit so? ❞

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rlyehbound:
WHEN HE REVEALED TO HER WHAT HE WAS; WHO HE WAS AND WHOM HE SERVED, he knew there was a POSSIBILITY of this. She would ORDER his death and ruin his plans, but she was in the RIGHT to do so. Aaron could NEVER be with her - not in a ROMANTIC sense, but he wanted to remain HERE. Everything he’d done was to make it so he could STAY - the cult would LIVE ON, but the Herald would be taking time for himself. He’d STEP DOWN from actively leading until the time was RIGHT.
UNFORTUNATELY, FATE DEEMED IT THAT AARON WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO. It deemed it so he’d never have that PEACE he so craved. The words he said to her before ECHED in his ears - the words he said before his death were even WORSE. She should have been NOTHING to him - just a CHESS PIECE to move when to REMOVE when the time was right, but she was LONG PAST that.
❝ YOU SIGNED MY DEATH WARRANT AND YOU EXPECT ME TO DO NOTHING IN RETURN? ❞ He wanted to SCREAM at the top of his lungs. sadly, he was still recovering, and talking was painful enough - he didn’t want to push himself yet ❝ You expect me to go on like nothing happened? ❞ His hands ran through his hair.
HIS HANDS RAN THROUGH HIS HAIR RIGHT BEFORE SLAMMING HIS HAND HARSHLY INTO A WALL. ❝ You expect me to believe this is all fine? That you didn’t willingly want me dead? ❞ He then pulled his hand back and slammed it again - this time harder than before. ❝ This close… this close and would have had everything, but you just had to stop it - you just couldn’t let the DERANGED CULTIST have a moment of peace. Tell me, did you ENJOY it when you issued the order? Did you enjoy seeing the one person who would have gave up EVERYTHING killed like a common criminal? ❞
BY THAT POINT, HE WAS ANGRY - FAR MORE THAN BEFORE. His mind was REELING with the idea of ending it now. SEIZING the throne for HIMSELF and taking complete control of the GOVERNMENT, but that was long gone. It was no longer part of the plan and while seeing her again WASN’T meant to happen, he only had one POSSIBLE option left; leaving her… forever. ❝ Or did you ever find out what I did? That’s the real question here, isn’t it? Did you find out? ❞
still, she kept her back to him, too afraid to turn about and face his anger, tears streaming down her cheeks. it seemed impossible to pull her fingers from the desk, her shoulders flinching at each slam of his hand against the wall. he would not believe a word she said, would he? how could he? she did not doubt that faced with the same from anyone else, she would not. was that not what had caused this disaster?
what would he decide to do now? her life was in his hands now... why would he preserve it when she failed to do the same for his? taking in a deep breath, she wiped the tears from her eyes and finally turned to face him. ❝ i would not dare to claim all is well, aaron. ❞ even now, her hands wrapped around the desk, backed up against it, she could not look him in the eye. ❝ do you truly think i watched you die? that i wanted you to die? ❞ if she had been able to defy the rest of her government without tearing apart her country, she would have. ❝ i would have commuted your sentence if i could have. ❞ closing her eyes, her shoulders slumped forward as much as possible in her corset. it was all so inane, sounded so weak. that was all she was, a weak puppet.
❝ they found out nothing, ❞ she all but whispered. nothing would convince him, would it? this was all her fault... because she could not hold back her anger, could not be stronger. ❝ perhaps it is for the best. i am the worst ruler this country could have. ❞
@chokethelight
Jenna Coleman for TK Maxx’s Disney x Red Nose Day
arsephe:
Bare feet padded against the forest floor , twigs and branches breaking as she stumbled through the thick foliage . There had to have been a better path , but the area was so old and unpopulated that any path which had been made was long overgrown . The girl swayed as she drew to a halt , the animals skittering around her begging to be fed upon , but she refused . She would still be a monster even if animals were her choice of prey – innocent beings that had never done anything to her . In her travels , there had been talks of another just like her , one who was much , much older and was said to know of a way to bring humanity back to the damned creatures they were . So , she set out to look for him , but when she’d find him it’d probably be too late , for she would need to feed soon and she would rather die than take another life .
She dared to push on , continuing her search since she was so close . It was not long before she picked up a scent , perfume wafting through the air – she knew there was human not too far . By instinct she followed the scent , quick and agile though her vision blurred and her head pounded . She came upon a mansion , rundown but habitable , with a sprawling garden in which she saw a girl winding through with a small dog at her feet . Teeth bared , eyes black , she lurched forward , hunger controlling her every move . She had barely taken a step before a pang hit her in the gut and she had fallen to her knees with an audible screech of pain , darkness overcoming her in an instant . @queenviictoria // STARTER CALL
❝ come here, dash! fetch, dash! ❞ much like the action after which her pup was named, victoria dashed about the garden, plucking a stick off the ground and tossing it with all her strength. it delighted her deeply to see her spaniel leap about with such glee. here, no one would tell her to slow down, do not trip, do not lift up her skits. it was a joy beyond which she could not have imagined even. freedom.
a scream from the forest stopped her in her tracks, her eyes darting toward the dark forest near the edge of the garden. having frozen in place, her daze was only broken when dash bounded toward the forest, a deeper fear taking hold of her. ❝ lord m! lord m! ❞
Jenna Coleman for The Last Magazine — January 2019
You have to play it two ways all the time: a grieving mother whose child has been snatched out of a car and also the version of a mother sitting on top of all these secrets. The ambiguity and the dueling nature of keeping it a thriller while always telling the truth felt like playing the most vortex-like game of chess I’ve ever played before.
(note: not color versions of shoot, but colorings of the originals)

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hellfirebound:
❝ I HAVE A TALENT ABOUT getting into bad situations. Sometimes out of sight, but most of the time out of mind. ❞ With his family, that was the preferable sort of things. If he stayed out of their sight, they didn’t care, and out of mind was even better. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun. ❝ i’m from…. around. ❞ he could have been a bit more honest, but he figured this would do for now.
❝ no, no... that won’t do! ❞ now she crossed her arms over her stomach, beaming up at the stranger. his continual withholding of information only intrigued rather than put her off. this was a distraction she could actually enjoy. ❝ around could mean here, London, or it could simply mean you exist on this planet. you’re being ridiculous now! ❞
@chokethelight
ahopefulbunch:
@queenviictoria . lord and saviour s.c.
now he does not belong here, in fact tom would probably argue that both sides of the family ( sybil’s family and his own ) would hit the roof if they knew where they were, who they were staying with. a man who was by his own definition a socialist did not belong in a fancy house, he certainly did not belong in the damn palace meeting the royal family. the halls of oppression, ….. but he’d promised to be on his best behaviour, not to go into a rant about oppression or ireland …. unless he was directly asked of course. “ was very kind of you t’ invite us here. ” he would admit that at least, he knew that sybil had been threatened not to be received at court if they married, he knew that technically because of his lack of status neither of them should be. he didn’t care of course, but he suspected that she might, if not only because of the friends she might lose.
the awkwardness which oozed between them seemed as dense as a tapioca pudding, but she’s determined to shatter it, if only for sybil’s sake. hands clasped properly against her dress-covered corset, the queen bestowed him with a soft smile. there’s plenty she much rather avoid, especially as she knew their opinions lay so very differently. among many other things, ireland could be a rather explosive topic. ❝ of course... your wife is one of my dearest and oldest friends. i would be very amiss if i did not invite her and her new husband to court. ❞ striding toward him, she tipped her head toward the open floor length windows, inviting him silently to follow her. it was a beautiful day... and the garden was a far more private place for the ensuing conversation.
@hesocialist
Apparently “spite” is not an ‘appropriate answer’ to “What motivates you?”
bertievi:
He could see her worry and while he did think that she had needed a warning for stepping into a role where she would have no real protection that she might have been used to, perhaps he had been too blunt? He smiled though for what she gave as a sure statement, a soft little noise escaping in a half breath. “You will –not –tarnish the -Crown.” Her promise that she would not back out received a grateful nod regardless, words he perhaps needed to hear. “You will -do –fine.” He hummed and even smiled at her.
Sure his anger at Conroy would be given full attention later, but for now, the nervous yet brave niece before him did not need his anger but his comfort, at least that’s what he thought he saw. “There was a –young -sailor once, named Mr -Johnson.” He explained and picked his cigarette from the edge of the ashtray again. There were still so few that actually knew Albert was ‘Johnson’ in the First War. “–He was the -bottom of -his -class at Dartsmouth, only –getting into the -officer –Naval -collage because of -who he was. Even there –he slugged on through the -whole -experience until he -was assigned -to a ship. There, –he managed –to -prove all of the -tutors wrong and -excelled at -his -work -for when it –really mattered Mr -Johnson was mentioned in -despatches -for his -contribution –to the -biggest -naval -battle there -has ever -been.”
He smiled again to her softly and took a short drag on his cigarette while he regarded her, he would worry about her much like his father had he supposed, but it was something she should do and he was sure she would look back on as a good decision. “So, -I -do -hope that Miss Victoria -Edwards will -bare the -story of Mr -Johnson in mind if -she runs into –doubts of her –perfectly -capable -capabilities.” Partly a tease, but also some offer that he did think she could handle it. He still did not think it would be anything like easy, his few years at the mercy of boys his age and older were not at all easy, but if he could pull through, then Victoria certainly could.
his assurance she would not harm the crown by her attempt at service brought the young woman great relief, even visible on her beforehand worried features. thanks to conroy’s constant picking, it was what terrified her the most, letting her uncle down, giving a bad example. she even managed a wobbly smile to meet his own.
her brow refurrowed as he began to tell a story about some midshipman in the last war. clearly confused, she still listened intently, attempting to gather his intent. perhaps it was to give her courage, being similarly downtrodden by those around her as the little midshipman was by his studies. but then, as the king arrived at the end of his story, he connected the name of mr. johnson to her own chosen moniker for her service with such a teasing voice. it took a moment, but then her eyes blew wide with realization. ❝ uncle, were you mr. johnson? ❞ she’s touched that he would compare his younger self to her, the man she looked up to more than any other in the world.
unable to completely retain the emotion which welled up with the thought, her chin set to quivering at the attempt. head cocked slightly much like a small puppy, she glanced away, trying to blink away the tears which rose unbidden. ❝ all i wish is to make you proud. ❞

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Make me choose:
@bcruz2390: Buckingham Palace or Stockholm Palace
theasteriae:
SEBASTIAN & V.
plotted starter for @queenviictoria
“Morning, ma’am.” Sebastian greeted her with a sharp nod, hands behind his back ( to attention! )—but, when he lifted his head, his lip was twitching slightly, as if with an ironic smile. Morning. It was barely light out, and their breath misted—mingled—in the air in front of them.
No stranger to the hour ( he’d been up since half past four, hanging out of the palace window, bare-chested, to sneak a smoke; watching the city as it gradually stirred itself into wakefulness ), he’d never been much of a fan of the cold. Even zipped into a lightweight jacket, hands stuffed into pockets and fingers brushing the handle of his firearm, he was stamping his feet, hoping they’d be off soon. “Are you ready to go?”
the early spring air hit victoria like a smack to the face as she stepped out from the relatively warm palace, the chill seeping up through the soles of her running shoes. for not the first time, she mourned her life choices with a deep sigh, blinking in the cloud it left, as she trudged toward her protection officer. ❝ morning... many thanks for leaving off the ‘good’. ❞
it had been another difficult night, the young woman waking up after a nightmare only to flip open her laptop and study the connections between prominent international political actors until she fell asleep once again. the decision left her especially bleary eyed and a little peeved, but she still pulled on her leggings and tied her shoes. she shot a glance at moran, noting how he too seemed to feel the cold. ( misery loves company ) ❝ no, never ready. i am simply dragged by my ears through the world and expected to deal with it. ❞ with those sardonic words, she took off running toward the mews. it wasn’t as if she would be leaving him behind with her stupid legs.