#soft aragon

My half of the art trade with @pandora-dusk

The prompt was to draw some soft Aramour to make up for the angst fest that some people have been enabling lately

I am always down to write Aragon & Parr anything!!! Here you go!

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The thing about Thursdays, is that most of the queens love them.

Kitty always pulls Anna into her room with marshmallows and a movie on the third Thursday of every month. (No one is sure why it’s that particular day. And according to the two’s refusal to elaborate, no one will ever know.) Anne and Jane just objectively like the way the day sounds verbally. (Also, when asked they will say it is totally not because they hate the way Wednesday is spelled.) Cathy usually has her show day off on Thursday, so she usually spends it reading a book or throwing herself into whatever she’s been waiting to have time to research. Catalina has no particular inclination towards the day, but her family loves it, so she’d usually say it’s a fine day.

Yes, Thursday’s have been a particular joy for the queens as a whole. Until today that is, because Catalina has just decided that Thursday is the day that God himself must have forsaken. Thursday is now the devils day, and no, she will not take constructive criticism on this. Another sharp pain radiates through her uterus as if to solidify the demonization of this particular day of the week.

‘It couldn’t have been a Wednesday? Everyone hates Wednesday!’

Truthfully Catalina’s periods are usually pretty painful; it has nothing to do with the day of the week. But hatred is a way to be able to have any clear thought through the cloud of pain, so fuck Thursday.

Usually she’d call for someone to get her some pain meds and her heat pad. But everyone is off to the theater today. She had to call out of the show today due to the pain to come. As soon as she saw the blood she knew it was going to be a bad day, she’d already had a minor headache coming on.

She attempts to move, maybe she can get her medicine herself, but the slightest movement only made it worse for her.

“Here, Madrina.”

Catalina looks up through her fogged up vision and sees her goddaughter standing there with water and two pills. She tries to sit up, she really does, but the pain is draining all of her energy. Cathy has to put the items aside to help her move around the bed.

She holds the pills out to Catalina, and then helps her drink from the glass. Normally Catalina would be super mortified to rely on anyone this much. But she can hardly spare that a thought with the pain shooting through her body. Her back hurts! Why does her back hurt? Ridiculous.

Cathy looks at her, likely trying to gage what  is needed from her. Catalina meets her eyes and beckons her closer. The woman takes a seat at the edge of the bed, facing Catalina and ready for request.

It takes a hell of a lot of energy, but it’s totally worth it. She grabs Cathy’s hand tightly as another pulse of pain goes through her body and she whispers with purpose.

“Thursday’s suck, Cath.”

Cathy snorts, reciprocating Catalina’s hand holding.

“This particular Thursday, maybe. Don’t let Anne hear you say that.”

Catalina curls back up in bed the way she was before sitting up. To Cathy the contortion might look uncomfortable, but a woman’s gotta do what she’s gotta do when she’s in pain.

“I can already hear it. ‘Better than Wednesday, it is. Have you ever written Wednesday? It makes no sense. At least Thursday makes sense!’”

Cathy laughs once again, this time at the mockery coming from her godmother. She even went as far as to imitate the diction of Anne’s accent. The dedication to the bit is astounding, considering she’s contorted like an acrobat in an attempt for pain relief.

Catalina huffs a small laugh of her own. Although it’s soon taken over by a whimper.

“I’m gonna go and get your heating pad, alright?”

She hardly waits for a response before leaving. Catalina takes the time alone to try and think. She doesn’t want to hold Cathy back today. The woman usually spends the day alone in her room, relishing in her only time to be in solitude. But how to get her to go and do what she wants to do? Cathy would never willingly leave Catalina like this.

Her goddaughter comes back in with a familiar small fuzzy pad with an attached remote to adjust the heat emanating from it. She immediately starts to fuss over getting Catalina up so she can place it under her. Instead of letting Cathy assist her, she lifts her body herself despite the protests coming from her body. After that, she takes another sip from the glass of water for the pills.

Immediately after this show of independence she feels incredibly nauseous.

Thankfully Cathy saw the rising bile coming. She lunges for the trash bin by her desk, and gets it to Catalina before she can make a mess of her blankets. If she’d thrown up on her bed she'd just throw away all of the blankets and sheets. And she doesn't have any replacements, so that’d suck. Because Catalina is in no shape to leave to buy more.

Cathy offers a look of sympathy when Catalina is finished puking and looks up at her miserably. Her nose scrunches at the stench, but she doesn’t dare move to get the bin away. No, no more moving for her.

When Cathy takes it away, (Placing it close enough to grab if again needed.) Catalina lays back down slowly. The heat underneath her is calling to her, and it soothes her cramps and back a bit upon direct contact.

“Y’can go if you want.” She murmurs, eyes closing. She’s not by any stretch better, but she’s more comfortable now.

“Lina, I’m not going to leave you.”

She sounds incredulous. As if the mere suggestion was the strangest thing to hear.

“M’fine.”

“You are not.”

“Go and,” she waves a hand in generality to signify that she could do whatever she wants. “Go read a book or something. Whatever you usually do on your day off. Don’t let me stop you.”

There’s silence for a bit. It’s long enough that Catalina actually starts to doze off. But then Cathy stands and she’s suddenly aware again.

“Gimme a sec.” She says, briskly walking into the hall.

Then she comes back. So fast that Catalina couldn’t even process the absence. Cathy sits on Catalina’s bed against the headboard and pulls her godmother into her, arms wrapped around her in a gentle manner. She holds up a book.

“This is what I was planning on reading today. I can do that here.”

Catalina would normally protest at being held, she's not a child after all. But she’s so comfortable, and warm, and the medicine is kicking in so now she’s kind of drowsy.

[Tour]

Word count: 2696

Kinda late birthday gift for @the10amongstthese3s

Gosh diddly darn where do I start-- you are one of the most wholesome people in this community okAy? You’re such a saint ya know?! I swear, you’re probably the first of many to genuinely cheer me on with my writing and listen to all my ideas. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. I remember when you first messaged me (or maybe I messaged you? i can’t even remember- we talk every day now!) and how happy I was to be noticed by someone so big and amazing in the fandom. I just felt so honored and lucky. And I sure am right about being lucky. Hell, Duckie you probably don’t notice this but your content and just you in general has helped me through quite a lot of shit. I absolutely love how you constantly try to help others out, put a smile on their faces and watch them grow. Your personality is GOLD. You have made me motivated and inspired me in so many ways, helping me with writers block, stupid anon hate, and my self-esteem in general. You’re such a respectful person and I just want to say over and over again until the end of time: Thank you… I thank you for reaching your hand out to me and my writing and helping me grow, even when I’m being stubborn and childish. Thank you for everything.  I wanted to give you something in return as well. I’m sorry it probably doesn’t seem like much but here you are, you wonderful, amazing, talented person!! Take this as a gift of my gratitude and how you changed my life through everything!

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  “Teach me how to swim.” Joan grits out from between her teeth. Her icy grey-blue eyes are sparkly with tears, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped tight around the straps of the backpack she insists on using for work for some reason. The nails on both hands have been chewed down to almost the stinging quick. Aragon pauses, swallowing the last swig of her cherry powerade as she considers the girl: She’s trembling, lower lip wobbling, and her knees are nearly knocking together. Aragon wants to fish out a bandage from her pocket that she knows she doesn’t have to wrap up around her nails.

Joan is scared. But why?

It’s a question that even Aragon asks herself. Why was she afraid of water? Why was she so hesitant to swim? Why didn’t she know how to yet?

What happened?

Did she watch a loved one drown? Was her home destroyed by a flood or hurricane? Was she ever dunked underwater again and again and again and again until she couldn’t breathe anymore?

Anxiety surges like the ocean surf and riptides that pull Joan down beneath the surface, closing over like a lattice net of hands in children’s games, forcing her under. Anxiety, fear, terror--and for what? Over what? A liquid? A liquid she should have no reason to be afraid of? She was never traumatized by water, not that she can remember, so why?

  “Okay,” Aragon says with a shrug, and it’s as easy as that.

Joan swallows her shock at the agreement and the tears thick at the back of her throat, and nodded. She smiles thinly, wryly, shakily, and whispers, “Thank you.”

hello!

basically, i had three tests today, got sad, and wanted to write what would happen if the queens got a trampoline.

so this is that.

enjoy!

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“What on earth were you thinking?”

Catherine of Aragon is standing in the backyard to the flat she shares with her five other roommates, and she’s honestly a little pissed.

Anne, being Anne, bought a trampoline today on impulse, and it’s taking up a solid third of the tiny backyard space that they get in London.

“What could you possibly mean by that?” Anne asks, fluttering her eyelashes innocently.

“The fuck-all giant trampoline is what she means,” Anna replies, standing next to Aragon, her voice high with disbelief. “Why the hell’d you buy it?”

Anne shrugs. “Felt like it.”

“Please don’t tell me that’s what I bloody think it is,” Parr groans, walking out into the yard with Jane, who swats her admonishingly.

“Language.”

“Oh, Christ, Cathy, you got Jane’s mum voice out and Kitty’s not even out here,” Anna laughs, but it falls flat as the queens look at each other.

Katherine hadn’t gotten out of bed today.

Not for the past three days, actually.

She’d been having a really terrible depressive episode, and while they usually only lasted five or six days, those days were absolute torture for the queens, seeing Kat in pain and being unable to do anything to help.

Jane always sat with her during the days, holding her daughter’s hand in her own and trying not to cry.

One of the others would fetch Jane in the mornings to make sure she left Kat’s room every once in a while.

Even when they get her out, though, like now, it’s easy to tell that her thoughts are someplace else, with the way her eyes keep wandering to the second floor window overlooking the backyard.

“Who wants to go first?” Anne asks, breaking the silence.

“Me,” Anna volunteers immediately, clambering on the spring-lined mesh and testing it.

“This feels weird,” she remarks. “Fun. But weird.”

“Anna, you’re supposed to jump,” Jane tells her, grinning.

“What the hell? Why would you jump? This is totally unstable!” Anna shrieks, bouncing slightly to prove her point and almost toppling over.

“Oh my god, move over,” Anne says, leaping onto the trampoline. She rockets into the air a few times, her hair flying up in a cloud around her head. “See?” she shouts. “It’s fun!”

If Anne whoops a little louder than she normally would, or if she glances a few too many times at Kat’s window, no one says anything.

Jane goes next, then Parr, and even Aragon takes a turn for about five seconds before climbing off abruptly and shaking her head.

The grey sky overhead stretches and swirls with the passage of time, and the queens are so wrapped up in the flip tournament that Anna is trying to start that they don’t notice a sixth person join them outside.

“Is that a trampoline?” Katherine asks softly, a spark in her eyes, clinging a blanket around her like a cloak.

“Yeah,” Anne responds breathlessly, sweating hard after attempting to do a split jump for ten minutes.

“Can I have a turn?” she asks, discarding the blanket, and Anne nods.

“Sure, Kitty, go for it,” she says casually.

She looks like a baby goat at first, wobbling on the unfamiliar terrain, but she gets the hang of it fast and soon she’s jumping around with Jane, giggling under the now-pale blue sky.

“Why did you buy this again?” Aragon asks Anne, crossing her arms and watching Anne’s face as she sees her younger cousin try to do a cartwheel.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Anne says, kicking the dirt, a pout taking over her face. “I like trampolines, all right?”

“So does Katherine,” Aragon observes gently.

“Yeah, well, Jane was looking mopey, and when she’s mopey she doesn’t make waffles in the morning.”

“So you bought the trampoline so you could get... waffles?” Aragon asks skeptically.

“Yeah. That’s the reason. You happy?”

Aragon looks at the defensive young queen, who’s always so anxious when her cousin is unhappy, who sits and watches TV with Jane when Kat’s having an episode, who makes it a point to learn new words to try and beat Parr at Scrabble even though it’s hopeless.

Maybe someday she’ll tell Anne that it’s all right to let Katherine know she cares about her.

But not tonight. She knows Anne’s not up for it tonight.

“Yeah, I’m happy,” Aragon says. “I’m glad you can get your waffles now.”

“Me too,” Anne replies, grinning, and Katherine runs over and drags Anne back onto the trampoline, and Aragon watches them, smiling.

They’ll be okay.

I had this for a while so I thought I would post it.

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“Janey, I have to talk to you for a second.” the green queen said distraughtfully to the very queen that came after her. Jane Seymour could see that Boleyn wasn’t herself, for that was obvious. Instead of her plucky, sarcastic and overall dumbassness, the beheaded Tudor queen had her long brown hair out of her iconic space buns, had tears running down her face, and was oddly quiet. Seymour knew something was up. “I’m all ears” the motherly queen said comfortingly.

“The nightmares, they’ve gone worse” Lately, Boleyn has been having nightmares, of her marriage with Him and most of all, her beheading.

 They were super graphic, like she was reliving it all over again, more than 400 years before.

“Go ahead Anne, explain” Jane said. Anne had something to say and Jane was ready to listen. “Some nights, I feel like I’m there again. They get so real, that I can feel the sword cutting my head of and the blood coming down my neck. In the crowd, I see people weeping. And when I wake up, I see scratches and blood on my neck scar and I’m sweaty as all hell. Deep in my mind, I have this gut feeling that I’m going to die again”

Jane nodded in understanding.

She had heard something similar to this from Anne before, but never this bad.

“Continue” Jane encouraged.

“It’s just that, because of that fucking human turkey leg, I’m afraid of swords, those heads you get from the Halloween store, Styrofoam heads, and going back to the tower. Now, I think that if I even try to stand up for myself or say something smart, I’ll get killed a second time and I don’t want to relive that shit” Tears were flowing down Anne’s face as she talked. So much so her hands and the ends of her hair were drenched with sweat and tears.

The next room away, Aragon heard the whole conversation. She wanted to be there for her through the times of anxiety and depression.

The Spanish queen walked in. “I heard.” “Aragon, what are you doing here? Don’t you hate me” Anne said surprisingly, holding back tears.

“That’s not true” she said assuringly. “We may not agree on much, but, your still one of us and we care for you, A lot.”

“Really” Boleyn said questioningly. “Of course. Anyway, it isn’t the only reason why I came in here. I wanted to make sure you’re ok. Listen Hermana, all of us understand what it’s like to be haunted by him and not every time has been happy, but the most important thing is we’re here for each other. Yeah, it’s hard, but no one’s alone here. Besides, he can’t hurt us anymore. Toby and Lucy didn’t resurrect him thank God’

“Yeah, I guess” Anne said. “But, he still hurts us emotionally.”

“Trust us. We know” Jane chimed in.

“All of us has our king troubles, including me, but what matters most is the fact that we’re here, in this century, getting to share our sides of the story to millions and millions of people.” Catherine said.

“Yeah Yeah I know I know” Anne said. Catherine wiped the river of tears off Anne’s face. “Believe it or not, you’re like a daughter to me.” The brunette queen was surprised by Aragon’s comment. To her, it seemed like the sassy Spanish queen absolutely despised Anne.  After all, she was romantically involved with Henry during Catherine’s marriage.

“Thanks girls” Boleyn said thankfully. “I feel a lot better now.  Not to mention, I know that, even if they are realistic as shit, they are just nightmares.”